Read Online Hunger by Jackie Morse Kessler - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jackie Morse Kessler
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glowing eyes promising murder. But it didn't move to bite her again.
War threw back her head and roared with laughter. Instead of being muffled by her helmet, her voice seemed to be amplified by the headpiece, and Lisa felt that laugh trip along her spine.
"You don't offer to shake hands in front of a warhorse, girl, let alone War's steed," War declared. "Not unless you want to be called Stumpy."
Blushing furiously, Lisa patted Midnight's neck. She took some comfort from her steed's warmth, and more, oddly enough, from the tension that all but vibrated from Midnight, whose ears were flat against its skull. She didn't answer the knight; in truth, she didn't know what to say.
"So," War said, snapping the reins. Her horse began to walk in a slow circle around Lisa and Midnight, its hooves clanging on the pavement like death knells. Lisa shrank against Midnight, wishing she could be as brave as her own steed, trying not to imagine the red horse's teeth sinking into her arm. War said, "You're the one he picked. Can't imagine why. You've got no backbone to you."
Lisa wanted to run and hide.
"Look at you. You're just a child—practically a mouse." War let out a sound that was half laugh and half snort, and she shook her helmeted head as if in disbelief. "Well, Mouse, either you'll last or you won't. Makes no matter to me. But if I were a betting sort of person, I know where I'd put my money down."
Lisa swallowed, remembering what Death had said about War killing her. Looking at this woman, this knight with her biting horse and her brandished sword, Lisa could easily believe it. War wouldn't just kill her—she'd turn her death into an art form.
"So," War said. "Rules."
Lisa blinked in surprise. "What?"
"Rules," War repeated, her horse continuing its slow, threatening circle around Lisa and Midnight. "First rule: bring chaos. I see you're off to a decent start," she said, motioning with her sword to the restaurant behind Lisa, with its crowd of angry and wounded people and the gathering of police and news crews and ambulances. "But you'll have to do better than that, Mouse."
Lisa stammered, "Better?"
"We're the harbingers of the Apocalypse. We don't waste our time with restaurants. Think big—arenas, airports, cities," War said, her eyes glittering within her helmet's eye slots.
Dumbstruck, Lisa nodded.
"Second rule: Famine is a precursor to War.
That
means," she said, pointing the huge sword at Lisa, "you don't get in my way. You take people's food away, get them upset enough to fight. That's where
I
come in. And once I'm there, you let me do my job."
The red horse, Lisa noticed, was foaming at the mouth. "Your job," Lisa repeated, staring at the rabid creature and feeling rather faint.
"You don't want to step on my toes, girl, or I'll cut off your feet."
Eyes wide, Lisa stared at War.
"You keep the rules in mind, Mouse, especially the second, and we'll get along fine." The armor-clad woman yanked the reins, and the red steed ground to a halt, throwing its head back as if in pain or anger. "Otherwise, you'll end up just like your predecessor."
Despite herself, Lisa asked, "What happened to the last Famine?"
War chuckled, a dark and deadly sound, like the scrape of swords clearing their sheaths. "I ate the last Famine for lunch."
If she hadn't been leaning against Midnight, Lisa's legs would have given out. And she was certain that if she fainted, the red horse would trample her.
Don't pass out, don't pass out, don't pass out...
War jerked the reins back, and the red horse reared onto its hind legs with a defiant scream. "You mind your betters and remember the rules," War shouted, brandishing her sword, "or I'll cut you down where you stand!"
The red steed leapt forward, and Lisa threw herself down with a shriek as the horse sailed over her, bearing its rider forward into the crowd outside the restaurant.
Panting on the ground, Lisa turned to see what happened. The people didn't react to War's presence
War threw back her head and roared with laughter. Instead of being muffled by her helmet, her voice seemed to be amplified by the headpiece, and Lisa felt that laugh trip along her spine.
"You don't offer to shake hands in front of a warhorse, girl, let alone War's steed," War declared. "Not unless you want to be called Stumpy."
Blushing furiously, Lisa patted Midnight's neck. She took some comfort from her steed's warmth, and more, oddly enough, from the tension that all but vibrated from Midnight, whose ears were flat against its skull. She didn't answer the knight; in truth, she didn't know what to say.
"So," War said, snapping the reins. Her horse began to walk in a slow circle around Lisa and Midnight, its hooves clanging on the pavement like death knells. Lisa shrank against Midnight, wishing she could be as brave as her own steed, trying not to imagine the red horse's teeth sinking into her arm. War said, "You're the one he picked. Can't imagine why. You've got no backbone to you."
Lisa wanted to run and hide.
"Look at you. You're just a child—practically a mouse." War let out a sound that was half laugh and half snort, and she shook her helmeted head as if in disbelief. "Well, Mouse, either you'll last or you won't. Makes no matter to me. But if I were a betting sort of person, I know where I'd put my money down."
Lisa swallowed, remembering what Death had said about War killing her. Looking at this woman, this knight with her biting horse and her brandished sword, Lisa could easily believe it. War wouldn't just kill her—she'd turn her death into an art form.
"So," War said. "Rules."
Lisa blinked in surprise. "What?"
"Rules," War repeated, her horse continuing its slow, threatening circle around Lisa and Midnight. "First rule: bring chaos. I see you're off to a decent start," she said, motioning with her sword to the restaurant behind Lisa, with its crowd of angry and wounded people and the gathering of police and news crews and ambulances. "But you'll have to do better than that, Mouse."
Lisa stammered, "Better?"
"We're the harbingers of the Apocalypse. We don't waste our time with restaurants. Think big—arenas, airports, cities," War said, her eyes glittering within her helmet's eye slots.
Dumbstruck, Lisa nodded.
"Second rule: Famine is a precursor to War.
That
means," she said, pointing the huge sword at Lisa, "you don't get in my way. You take people's food away, get them upset enough to fight. That's where
I
come in. And once I'm there, you let me do my job."
The red horse, Lisa noticed, was foaming at the mouth. "Your job," Lisa repeated, staring at the rabid creature and feeling rather faint.
"You don't want to step on my toes, girl, or I'll cut off your feet."
Eyes wide, Lisa stared at War.
"You keep the rules in mind, Mouse, especially the second, and we'll get along fine." The armor-clad woman yanked the reins, and the red steed ground to a halt, throwing its head back as if in pain or anger. "Otherwise, you'll end up just like your predecessor."
Despite herself, Lisa asked, "What happened to the last Famine?"
War chuckled, a dark and deadly sound, like the scrape of swords clearing their sheaths. "I ate the last Famine for lunch."
If she hadn't been leaning against Midnight, Lisa's legs would have given out. And she was certain that if she fainted, the red horse would trample her.
Don't pass out, don't pass out, don't pass out...
War jerked the reins back, and the red horse reared onto its hind legs with a defiant scream. "You mind your betters and remember the rules," War shouted, brandishing her sword, "or I'll cut you down where you stand!"
The red steed leapt forward, and Lisa threw herself down with a shriek as the horse sailed over her, bearing its rider forward into the crowd outside the restaurant.
Panting on the ground, Lisa turned to see what happened. The people didn't react to War's presence
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