I couldn’t do it, couldn’t raise my head. Couldn’t look this predator in the eye.
The pale beast’s nostrils flared, drawing in my scent as it stopped in front of me. Shadows shifted as this demon lowered his hand, fingers extended, green stone shimmering from a ring on his finger. “Come.”
The command filled me…became me. Desire flared like the strike of a match as I lifted my head. His skin was pale, perfect, dark, brooding eyes held mine. “Come,” the horseman commanded.
My nipples tightened. Heat flared, burning like the sun. He turned his head, the show slipped from his chin and then climbed higher, revealing perfect red lips.
“Come,” he whispered. “We’ve been waiting.”
The image surfaced. Blood, cuts, gashes so wide I glimpsed the pale edge of bone. Screams rebounded.
Screams of pain and pleasure. I licked arid lips and tasted blood in my mouth. His dark gaze lowered, finding the swell of my breasts. I grasped the edges of my jacket, hands shaking, desperate to shed these clothes…
The pain so bright it was blinding. Stealing my breath, stealing my sight.
My spine bowed as I writhed. My fingers found the buttons of my jacket, and then slipped to the buttons. Fight. Fight him.
I knew who he was now. I glanced behind him to the other three waiting.
I knew who they all were.
They were destruction, devastation. They were disease, but more than that…they were the end. The end to everything. They were the destruction around me.
God didn’t create this. God didn’t turn his back on me.
I’ve been here all along, that light whispered, searching for you.
The pale horse turned its head. I followed the ridge of its nose until the pale hair turned brown. Tiny fissures tore along the beast’s skin on the other side of its face, until the rotten skin fell away from its cheek.
Flayed tendons tightened as the horse opened its mouth. The thick, blackened tongue moved. My stomach clenched, acid spilled into the back of my throat.
It knows you now.
And he’ll come.
I turned my head to that beautiful face. “What does he want?”
He stepped closer, and the shadows of His face brightened. My chest tightened, heart raced. I floated in God's beauty.
You, He whispered. Wake now, Harlow. The Pale Rider is here.
Blood, gashes, and the black sickness consumed me. A woman’s scream filled my head. The piercing sound rebounded off the walls. It was the sound of terror, of heartache.
Of a woman hunted.
And a woman reborn.
2
A heavy thud tore through the air. I flinched. Head smashed against the cold tiles and then searched for the warmth my body left behind.
The sound came again, dragging me to the surface. Not yet…not ready. I need more sleep. I sank, finding nothing…finding peace.
Flashes of blood filled my mind. Flesh slashed open…a book, leather bound…Revelations printed in bold letters along the top. And a man…his words resounded… Wake now, Harlow. The Pale Rider is here.
I opened my eyes and stared into the red light above the door. My tongue snaked out, skimming cracked lips. Plastic clattered against the floor as I pushed forward, my gaze drifting to the needle on the floor.
Nirvana. That’s right. Come on now, Harlow. Get it together.
Remnants lingered. I tried to think, tried to remember.
Christmas…I wrenched open my eyes with the memory. Today was the twenty-sixth. No birthday. No dreams, nothing but searching for food. Gotta get back home first…gotta get back home.
I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the tiles, waiting for the rush of relief. But there was no weight in my chest, no heavy burden dragging me under.
A memory hovered at the edges, something I was supposed to do. The thought wore at me like a stone in my shoe.
I searched deeper into the drug-filled haze. There was something important, something… A spark flared in the middle of my chest—a star, shining against the blackest night.
Come…
The command consumed me. And in the mist-filled corners of my mind, he came to me.
A man, riding a pale horse.
Wake now, Harlow. The Pale Rider is here, and there’s much for you to do.
That voice.
That voice pulled me all the way into the present. That voice that gave me hope…gave me purpose—gave me love.
God.
I winced and touched my arm, finding the dull ache over the vein. The needle was dirty…lies, the word was a whisper. Is that why the dealer knows you a little too well? Is that why this is the last time? I don’t think so, Harlow. I don’t think so at all.
Cold seeped into the tips of my fingers as I pushed against the floor. The syringe clattered and spun. I stared at the plastic, waiting for the flare of need. But there was nothing. No panic. No hunger. No flare of desperation. Only a flicker of disappointment.
I lifted my head to the open kit and the fallen rubber tie, and then the tiny vial, half filled with liquid. A drug I once needed.
But not anymore.
My steps were quiet, but my mind was filled with a roar. It was a thunder, a roar for something else now, something deeper than Nirvana.
A Calling…
There was no tremble in my fingers as I stepped to the door and yanked the bolt, and no stutter in my steps. Soft whimpers drifted into the filthy restroom as I opened the door and stepped outside.
I glanced at the train tracks, and the silver tomb in the distance, quiet and still. But it was the woman I heard. Her pain was my pain, her merry-go-round of torture, my own.
I headed for the end of the platform, where the soft sobs echoed. The dark shape was huddled on a bench seat, shoulders curled, head lowered.
“I could help you.”
She lifted her head at the sound of my voice. Fresh tears glistened on her face. “My baby…”
“—has passed. He’s gone now.” I touched the crusted edge of the blanket. “If you want, I can help you bury him?”
Her muffled cries eased as she swallowed. “Gone…”
“Yeah, he’s gone. Gone somewhere better, better than here.”
Darkness moved as she nodded her head. “He was crying, always crying, and then one night he just stopped. Just like that.”
“Is there someplace special you can put him, someplace you can visit when you need to?”
She was quiet for a long time, until her murmur slipped free. “He always liked the harbor.”
I winced.
The harbor.
I traced the streets in my head and mapped the danger points.
Too many. Best to stay inside…the soft growl of my father rang loud and clear. Remember what I taught you. A dead man is still a dead man, and you could still be infected. You can find another way, Harlow. A safer way.
“He loved the water. Used to stare at the waves for hours,” the woman murmured and rocked the still bundle. “That’s where I want to take him. That’s where he needs to be.”
I wanted to listen to that voice inside my head. The one that kept me safe—the one that kept me protected. But I couldn’t shake the dream…couldn’t shake that need inside me, that Calling, to lead this woman to peace.