His steed waits for us, its reins not tied to anything, just standing there like the creature has nothing better to do then wait on its master.

Pestilence grabs the rope that’s been shoved into one of the saddlebags. Unwinding it, he wraps one end around my wrists, which are still covered in bandages.

All my aches and pains come roaring back at the sight of my bound hands.

Running again. I should’ve known.

But instead of tying the other end to the back of his saddle, he threads it through one of his belt loops.

I raise my eyebrows. That’s unexpected.

Pestilence makes careful work of avoiding my eyes as he turns to me and grabs either side of my torso. Even though he’s carted me to and from the bathroom for the last two days, I still jolt at the press of his palms beneath my armpits. Before I can do more, he hoists me onto his horse. A second later he swings himself on behind me.

The leather creaks as Pestilence settles himself in the saddle. I hiss out a breath at the pain that flares up as I’m pressed against his armor. His left hand loops around me, his hand splayed across my lower stomach. His other hand takes the reins.

He leans in close. “You jump,” he warns, his breath hot against my ear, “I’ll make you run behind me again.”

I don’t doubt him, but right now, all I can think about is how repulsive and intimate it is having him this close.

Pestilence clicks his tongue, and his horse is off.

I’m riding with one of the horsemen of the apocalypse.

Holy shit.

I’ve now got front row seats to the end of the world.

Even with all the aches and pains that pull at me, riding is a far better means of travel than running, wrists bound, behind a horse.

“I was really close to death, wasn’t I?” I ask, referring to when Pestilence dragged my already injured body down the highway.

“Must you talk?”

So pleasant, this one.

“Must you spread plague?”

He doesn’t respond, though I can feel him brooding at my back.

“Why did you save me?” I prod.

“I didn’t save you, human. I kept you alive. There’s a difference. And I kept you alive to make you suffer. I thought I had made myself clear about this.”

I touch my chest. Beneath my layers of borrowed clothes are the bandages that bind my wounds.

“You went to an awful lot of trouble to keep me alive.”

“True,” he says, after a moment’s pause. “But then punishing you over and over again brings me great joy.” His words are bitter, and yet—

I don’t believe them. God, how I want to because oh, how I despise him, but I don’t believe him. Not wholly. And I don’t know why.

We ride in silence a few more minutes, our bodies swaying with the rhythm of the horse’s gait, before I start in again.

“Where did you learn to clean and dress wounds?” I ask.

“What does it matter?” he says.

I glance back at him, meeting his icy blue stare as the wind blows a few strands of hair across his face.

What a waste of beauty.

Pestilence’s jaw locks when I catch his eye, and he tears his gaze back to the road.

“It doesn’t, I guess. I’m just grateful.” I really am. I find that I’m not ready to die, even though it might be the easier option at this point.

“I don’t care,” he says stonily.

Caught him in a good mood, I did.

Not.

“So …” I can practically feel his temper blackening, but I continue on, “I haven’t gotten sick.”

“Astute observation, mortal.”

“Is that just luck, or do you control who gets the plague?” I ask.

“Were you born with all your organs intact?” he responds.

I can’t see his face, so I have no way of knowing where he’s going with this question.

“Yes …” I say cautiously.

“Good,” he responds, “then I expect you to use the one beneath your skull.”

Damn. That insult burned a little.

“So you do control the disease.”

He says nothing to that.

“And you spared me from it,” I add.

“Again you insist that my motives were altruistic. Do not for a moment assume I value your life. You are only alive to assuage my vengeance.”

Yeah, whatever.

I stare down at the horseman’s tan hand, which is still splayed over my abdomen. “Where are we going?”

Pestilence’s exhalation manages to convey his world-weariness.

“I mean,” I continue undaunted, “where’s your ultimate destination?”

That one question has haunted people the world over. Where Pestilence was riding to.

“I don’t have one, human,” he says. “I ride simply until my task is complete.”

Until we’re all dead. That’s what he means.

He’s going to ride his horse across the world until he’s infected us all.

The truth sits like rocks at the pit of my stomach.

Pestilence’s arm tightens around my waist. “Enough idle chatter. Your questions tire me.”

I don’t have it in me to give him lip over that. After that last response, I find I really don’t want to talk to him either.

And so the two of us ride on in awful, unsettling silence, and all the while, the horseman spreads his plague.

Day is giving way to night by the time Pestilence stops us at a house. I eye the single-story home with wariness as the horseman hops off his steed.

Really, really hope whoever lives here evacuated.

Pestilence reaches for me. After sitting in front of him for an entire day, I manage to not flinch at his touch.

I stare at him as he helps me off his horse. It’s a strange feeling, being vulnerable around someone who’s both hurt you and tended to you. Bound as my hands are, I have to rely on this devilish man for even something as easy as dismounting a horse, and I find I’m looking for his kindness, his compassion, in every small detail. It’s completely ludicrous of me to do so, considering that he’s the very evil that landed me in this situation, but it doesn’t stop me from searching for those things nonetheless.

Briefly Pestilence’s eyes meet mine, and for once they’re free of the ire and bitterness that’s usually in them. Of course, the moment I think that, they become guarded once more.

My legs nearly fold when he sets me down.

“Jesus, Joseph, and Mary,” I swear under my breath. The inside of my thighs feel rubbed raw, and my thigh muscles ache.

I glance to the heavens. I get it Big Guy, I’m not your favorite person right now.

The horseman doesn’t spare me another glance as he begins walking. A couple seconds later, I feel a tug on my wrists as the rope binding me pulls taut.

“Keep up, human,” he calls over his shoulder.

How very much I despise this man.

I hobble after him, watching with disapproval as he kicks in the front door. He hauls me inside.

It takes several seconds for my eyes to adjust to our dark surroundings. The room smells musty, like it’s been sitting in its own juices for a while. Between that and the way my breath mists in front of me, it’s obvious that whoever normally lives here is currently gone.

Pestilence steps up to me and takes my hands gruffly.