War (The Four Horsemen Book 2) Read online

  The horseman’s gaze shifts to my eyes, and that one look cuts through all my bullshit. “I have feasted on you. I am going to be inside you. I want to know who else has.”

  Strange, strange man. He didn’t seem to understand my motives for bringing this subject up when it was me grilling him, but now that he wants to know my sexual history … suddenly, he’s acting very human. Human and possessive.

  I shake my head. “I’ve fooled around with three men. I’ve only …” I take a deep breath and force the words out. “I’ve only had sex with one of them.” And even that was only a two-time thing. Getting off is tricky business in an age of limited contraceptives. It’s not usually worth it.

  “Who was he?” War’s expression has gotten decidedly more bloodthirsty.

  “Who were they?” I throw back at him.

  If War expects me to tell him about my sexual exploits, then I expect the same from him.

  He gives me a chilling smile. “So many humans are drawn to power, regardless of the cost. It’s tempting, like eating dessert before dinner. My previous partners all came to me and offered themselves, and there is nothing so satisfying as a fight followed by a fuck.”

  I don’t know if War is deliberately trying to put me off, or if he’s just lost in his own twisted head.

  “But in the end,” he continues, “that’s all they were—a good lay and nothing more. I haven’t tried to dabble in any sort of emotional entanglements until now.”

  With me, he means.

  “Why start now?”

  “Because you are here. Had you been here the day I awoke, I would’ve started then. It was never the when, but the who that prevented my heart from getting involved.”

  I was ready to be put off by War, but I find I’m not ready for this. His unapologetic words get under my skin, and I feel a little off kilter.

  “How do you feel about your heart getting involved?” I ask carefully, staring up at him.

  “Exhilarated.” Another unapologetic answer I’m not ready for.

  He leans in close. “It is as thrilling as war.”

  Late that night, long after the camp has gone to bed, I slip out of War’s arms and exit his tent. The horseman mentioned earlier that he wanted to wake for battle with me at his side, but … that’s just not happening. Sexual favors are one thing; spending the night is another.

  War must’ve known I was going to sneak out, however, because when I enter my tent, there’s already a bow and a quiver waiting for me, along with a note: For your soft heart.

  Chapter 29

  Long before the sun has risen I meet Zara in her tent. Though most of the camp is still asleep, she’s already up.

  “I was worried you’d forgotten,” my friend says when she sees me. She’s already dressed and jumpy with nerves.

  “I couldn’t possibly,” I say. Not when she has her family to save. What I would give for that opportunity.

  I adjust the bow thrown over my shoulder. “This is what’s going to happen,” I tell her without much preamble. “I’m going to be given a horse, and you’re going to take it.”

  There’s no way that she would receive a horse otherwise.

  “You’ll ride with the other mounted soldiers, that way you’ll get a head start.”

  She would still enter the city behind the phobos riders, but at least she wouldn’t be at the end of the army, where the foot soldiers are. Where I’ll be.

  “Once you find your sister and her family, give them no more than ten minutes to pack up the essentials—think food and water and blankets. Then get them to the docks.” I take a deep breath. “They’ll need to take your brother-in-law’s boat and sail as far away from here as they can—and they’ll need to stay away.” Even once the battle is over, there will be zombies prowling about for who knows how long—maybe indefinitely. If Zara’s family returns, they will die.

  “Oh,” I add, “and don’t give anyone reason to attack you.”

  In Ashdod, I saw soldiers turn on each other for no reason at all. There’s no true loyalty out there, and the horseman doesn’t much care if his ranks are culled; there are always more people willing to be recruited.

  Zara nods, pulling me in for another hug. “Thank you, Miriam. Thank you so much.”

  “Don’t die,” I warn her, hugging her back.

  “I don’t plan on it.”

  I pick up my horse, and just as planned, I covertly hand the reins over to Zara. If this were a normal army, I would never be able to get away with this half-baked plan. But in War’s ever changing army, we’re used to not recognizing the soldiers that fight alongside us.

  “Is there a place I should meet you?” I ask Zara. “You know, if you need help or things don’t go according to plan?”

  She hesitates, I’m sure because she doesn’t want to think about things not going according to plan. But then she nods. “My family lives on the west end of the city, near the docks. There’s a cluster of palm trees near the beach …” Her voice trails away and I can tell that she herself is having trouble remembering what the place looked like.

  “I’ll try to find you, though we’ll probably miss each other.”

  A nearby soldier whistles in our direction, motioning with his hand for Zara to join the other mounted soldiers.

  With a parting smile, she pulls herself onto the horse and steers the creature near the others.

  Adrenaline spikes in my system. I hope this works.

  “There you are,” a voice says behind me.

  I turn around and meet the gaze of Hussain, one of War’s phobos riders. He’s laden with weaponry.

  “War is looking for you; you weren’t in your tent this morning.” It stops just short of an accusation, so I don’t bother explaining myself. Hussain nods back towards camp. “This way. The warlord will want to see you before he rides.”

  He leads me back towards the horseman’s tent. Just outside of it, the torchlight illuminates War as he checks his steed’s bridle.

  Deimos, I’ve learned, doesn’t stay with the other horses. He’s far too temperamental for that. He’s either stabled separately, or he roams freely.

  The horseman glances up, and the moment his eyes lock on mine, he seems to relax. He leaves his horse, closing the distance between us and taking my mouth in his.

  I raise my eyebrows, even as I return the kiss. This is what we agreed to—intimacy—I just hadn’t expected it to move to public displays, but of course it does. The horseman is fine with people knowing what I mean to him. It’s me that takes issue.

  After he breaks away, he touches my bow. “I see you found my gift.”

  Gifts and kisses. What the fuck am I doing with this man?

  “And your horse?” he asks, glancing over my shoulder.

  “I’m going to enter the city on foot.”

  War narrows his eyes, and for one nerve-wracking moment, I’m sure he knows I claimed a horse earlier.

  Instead, he clasps the back of my neck. “Stay safe, wife—and try not to be too meddlesome.”

  He gives me another quick kiss, and then he’s striding back to his blood-red horse.

  I watch him mount, the horseman looking like some savage conqueror from a bygone era, his giant sword strapped to his back, his leather armor groaning with his movements.

  Giving me a final, long look, he kicks Deimos’s sides and rides away, towards the waiting procession of soldiers. I follow slower, and by the time I get to the group, they’re already starting to move.

  And so begins my second invasion.

  I head into Arish with the foot soldiers, so I’m one of the last to arrive. As I enter, I can already see the great plumes of smoke billowing into the sky. The fighting has moved inward, the streets I pass through already littered with bodies.

  Farther in, I see the first aviary. The buildings surrounding it are on fire, but this one remains untouched. War made good on his word.

  Out of curiosity, I peer inside. There’s a man lying dead on the ground, but t
he cages themselves are empty. No dead birds. No living ones either.

  Maybe they were set free—and maybe they flew away with warnings attached to their bodies.

  I stare at those empty cages, and for a second I feel a breath of pride. But then I step away from the building, back onto the street, and the whole city seems to be burning and people are screaming or lying dead in the road. In an instant, my trade with the horseman feels like foolishness. Like too little too late.

  I move inward, passing a burning mosque and a café whose outdoor tables have all been overturned. I run past shops and apartment buildings, past the dead who will be cruelly re-animated before the day is done.

  Three blocks up the battle is raging. Many of the soldiers around me rush forward, heading directly into the fray. I move a little slower, trying to remember the directions Zara gave me. I need to eventually find my way to the west end of the city, in case she needs some help.

  I’m not even halfway there when I hit the thick of the fighting. Soldiers on horses are cutting down everyone. People are screaming, fleeing—it’s all becoming horribly repetitive.

  I notice a soldier grab a woman in a burka, a knife at her throat. He fumbles at her clothing, trying to lift it up. All that modest clothing, all her piety—it hasn’t saved her from this. War made it forbidden to rape in his camp, but he hasn’t forbidden this.

  In the next instant, my bow is in my hand. I reach behind me, pulling an arrow from my quiver, nocking it in place.

  I remember those demanding hands on me. I remember what it felt like to get pawed at. To feel my clothing ripped open. The fear and humiliation that this was happening to me and that I was helpless to stop it.

  I don’t even realize I’ve aimed and fired until the arrow cleaves through the soldier’s back, the tip of it bursting through his chest. The woman, who’d been sobbing and begging, now screams at the sight. The soldier stumbles to the ground, and the woman manages to get away.

  I lower my bow, my breathing hoarse. Sweat is beginning to bead on my face. For a moment, I can’t seem to remember myself.

  Find Zara.

  I blink several times. Right. I sling my bow over my shoulder and run.

  Chapter 30

  It takes far longer to cross the city than I anticipated. The streets are utterly congested with fighting—if you can call it that. It’s more like seek and destroy; Arish’s civilians run, and War’s army chases them down.

  I make it to the ocean, and my heart stops at the sight of it. All that crystalline blue water looks like something from a dream.

  Or a memory.

  My lungs pound. The sunlight above me grows dim even as I struggle.

  I open my mouth to cry for help.

  The water rushes in—

  I shake the memory off and continue on, following a street that runs alongside the beach. As I move, I see people swimming in the sea … and I see that some soldiers have headed out after them. There are a few boats that speckle the water, a disappointing number of them capsized, likely by the very people who are currently bobbing out there with the waves. Everyone wants to be saved.

  “Miriam! Miriam!”

  I turn at the panicked sound of my name, and there’s Zara.

  We’re nowhere near the westernmost end of the city. That in and of itself is enough for my unease to grow. But it’s the sight of her slumped against a beachside building, her headscarf in tatters around her shoulders, that truly has me concerned.

  I sprint over to her.

  It’s only as I get close that I see the limp little boy cradled in her arms, an arrow jutting from his chest.

  Oh no.

  I slide on my knees to her side.

  “I couldn’t save them,” she weeps, bowing her head over the toddler’s body. “I couldn’t save any of them.”

  My stomach turns at the sight of the wounded toddler in her arms; he must be her nephew. Someone did this to a little boy. They shot him in the chest like his life meant nothing.

  “They’d already come through by the time I arrived,” she sobs.

  We’re coming from the east, leaving civilians only true escape to the west, one of War’s soldiers said when they were strategizing their attack It might be best to split the army and come at it from both ends.

  War’s soldiers must’ve done exactly that.

  “I’m so sorry, Zara.” I hadn’t even thought to warn her of this—not that it would’ve done much good. I’m sure she rode as fast as she could to get to her family. If she was too late, there was never a chance for them to begin with.

  I feel tears well in my eyes as I glance down at the toddler. I slept with the horseman, and for what gain? It didn’t save Zara’s sister, or her brother-in-law, or her nephew.

  I place a hand on the boy. I almost jolt at the warmth of his skin. I stare down at him, and I see his chest rise and fall just the slightest.

  “He’s still alive,” I say, shocked.

  She’s openly weeping as she shakes her head. “He’s not going to make it—how can he possibly make it?”

  I glance down at where the arrow is embedded in his chest. Already, the clothing around it is coated in slick blood. It surely is a mortal wound, and yet …

  Maybe there still is something to gain from this.

  “There’s a chance—a small chance …”

  What am I even thinking, saying these words and giving Zara hope? It’s such a doomed idea.

  Zara blinks up at me, and I can tell she doesn’t believe me—that she has been disappointed too many times to believe me.

  I glance around. Where would the horseman be right about now?

  “War!” I shout uselessly. “War!”

  “What are you doing?” my friend says, looking aghast that I’d call for the horseman.

  “He can help.”

  Zara stares at me like I’ve gone mad. “He’s the one responsible for this,” she snaps.

  “Do you want his help or not?” I snap back.

  She presses her lips together.

  I stand. “I need to find him. It’s a longshot …” I say, backing away.

  It’s more than a long shot, Miriam.

  I don’t let the insidious thought creep any deeper than that.

  “I’ll be back.” I run the way I came, feeling the futility of the situation. I’m not possibly going to find him in time. And even if I do, convincing him to help another human is even less likely. That doesn’t stop me from tearing down street after street, shouting War’s name, asking anyone I can if they’ve seen him.

  I run up two blocks then hook a right, then a left, and there he is, charging down the road, his sword brandished, his body strewn with blood.

  He’s not going to help.

  It’s so laughably obvious. I mean, why would he?

  And just when I managed the first impossible task too—finding him.

  “War!” I shout.

  His head whips to me. This far away, I can’t tell what expression the horseman wears, only that after a moment, he sheathes his sword behind his back and gallops towards me.

  War closes the distance in less than a minute, pulling up to my side.

  “Wife,” he says, grinning, his eyes a little mad. “Enjoying that gift?” He nods at my bow.

  “I need your help,” I rush out.

  This isn’t going to work.

  His expression changes in an instant from crazed to serious. “And you shall have it.”

  We’ll see about that …

  He reaches out for my hand. I grasp his palm and let him pull me onto his saddle.

  “What is it?” he asks, once I’m settled in front of him.

  I wet my lips, turning my head half towards him. Now the tricky part.

  “I’ll tell you, but first, we need to get there,” I say.

  It’s a testament to War’s own belief in me that he goes along with this, letting me direct him back to the beachside building without protest.

  Zara is where I left her, he
r nephew still cradled in her arms. Even from here I can see that she’s murmuring soft things to him.

  I know the instant War sees Zara. Behind me, his body stiffens.

  The horseman pulls back on Deimos. “What is this?” he demands. All gentleness has drained from his voice.

  I turn to him in the saddle and place a hand on his cheek. “Please,” I say.

  Beneath my touch I feel a muscle in his jaw jump.

  For a moment, the two of us simply stare at one another. I’m hoping against hope that he feels enough for me to help. But I’m not positive he does.

  Before he responds one way or another, I hop off his steed and head back to Zara’s side.

  War is slower to join us, though to give him credit, he does dismount his horse and follow me. I wasn’t sure he would.

  “You pull me from battle to save one of them?” he says behind me. “Is that what this is?” His voice is rising with his anger.

  I crouch next to Zara. She’s shaking, either from fear or grief or both. Her nephew has gone even paler, though his eyes flutter a little.

  “If you don’t do anything, he will die.”

  “Have you gone mad, wife?” he all but bellows. “That is the exact point! And you tear me from battle for this?” His eyes are inflamed with his fury.

  This is the first time I’ve ever truly seen War in a rage. Even when he kills, he isn’t like this.

  I think he might actually be experiencing regret for the first time, right here, right now. All at the hands of his human wife.

  I take a deep breath, trying to ignore how my own body has begun to quake with fear. He’s terrifying enough when his emotions are under control. But seeing him angry makes me feel like my insides have liquefied.

  War takes a step closer. “Have I not sacrificed enough for you already?”

  I rise to my full height, despite my terror. I’ve seen another side of this man. I just have to coax it out. So, going against my instincts, I walk back towards him.

  God is he angry, the violence isn’t just in his eyes anymore. It’s spilling all over his face, from his tight jaw to his flared nostrils. But he stares at me as I come closer as though he’s never encountered someone like me—and he might be willing to hear me out.