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Pestilence
ISBN #978-0-85715-701-0
©Copyright T.A. Chase 2011
Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright September 2011
Edited by Claire Siemaszkiewicz
Total-E-Bound Publishing

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination
and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or
places is purely coincidental.

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of the artwork.

Published in 2011 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL,
United Kingdom.

Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature
readers. This story has a heat rating of Total-e-sizzling and a sexometer of 2.

The Four Horsemen

PESTILENCE

T.A. Chase

Dedication

Thank you to all my readers and fans. Knowing you’re out there,

patiently waiting for my next book keeps me writing.

Trademarks Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following
wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Band-Aid: Johnson & Johnson Company
Popsicle: Unilever

PESTILENCE

T.A. Chase

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Prologue

Lights flashed in the darkness behind Aldo’s eyes as he slowly regained consciousness.

Pain rocketed through his body and he gasped.

“Open your eyes.”

Aldo couldn’t fight the command in the voice. He pried his eyes open and stared up

into a visage as cold as marble. Dark eyes studied him like a scientist would study a bug.

Aldo’s throat burned every time he swallowed. Confused, he lifted his hand to touch his

neck.

“You should not touch that. It is raw.”

“What happened?” he croaked out, not recognising where he was or who the person

was staring at him. How had he ended up on the ground?

“It seems you had grown tired of your world and decided to end your life.” The pale

haired man shrugged. “Maybe it was for the best since your wife and son are gone. Yet the

Black Death has killed so many others, I would not be surprised if more people take their

lives as well.”

As the words were spoken, all of Aldo’s grief came flooding back. Tears welled in his

eyes and he rolled over onto his side, sobbing harshly as the memory of what had happened

returned. It had only been two days since he’d buried his family in a pit with other victims of

the plague. His village had been decimated by the mysterious illness.

“Why am I not dead?” He pressed his face in the ground under him. “Did the rope

break?”

“Oh, you were dead, but we have something more important for you to do than to die.”

The chill in the man’s words sent shudders down Aldo’s spine. What was going on?

None of his words made any sense. How could Aldo have been dead when he was talking to

this man?

“I am not dead. If I was, I would not be talking to you,” he pointed out as he rolled onto

his back and glared up at the stranger.

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His companion nudged him with his foot and held out his hand. “You need to stand.

We have things to do and you have much to learn.”

“What are you talking about? Learn? I did not know there were classes on how to be

dead,” Aldo quipped, but he let the man pull him off the ground. “Who are you?”

“You may call me Death.”

Aldo rolled his eyes at the odd announcement. “I’m not going to call you anything. Are

you going to keep telling me what’s going to happen?”

Death pinched the bridge of his nose and ground his teeth together. Aldo could tell he

frustrated the other man, but there wasn’t any way he would just calmly wander off with

him. He glanced around them and the blank landscape puzzled him. It didn’t look like the

outskirts of the village he lived in. It didn’t look like anything actually. No trees or buildings.

Nothing except a white stallion and a pale one standing a few feet away.

“Where are we? What are they doing here?”

The other man shot him a glare. “We are in the middle place where those who are

chosen for a different life come. It is here you meet your true destiny. As to the creatures,

they are our mounts. You are a Horseman now.”

“A Horseman? What is that?”

“Come with me and I will explain.” Death stalked off towards the horses.

“So I do not have a choice?” Aldo followed slowly behind him.

Death swung aboard the pale stallion and stared down at him. “You took your choice

away when you tied the noose around your neck. You are now Pestilence, and you will help

keep the balance between Heaven and Hell.”

“Me? Seems a big responsibility for one man.” He approached the white stallion with

caution. The horse turned blood-red eyes on him and Aldo shuddered. “This is not an

ordinary horse. I do not know how to ride.”

“No. They are creatures unknown by mortal man. You do not have to know how to

ride. He will take care of you while you ride him. Get on. I do not have any more time to

waste on you.”

“You are Death? Are there more of you?” He managed to scramble astride the horse.

After settling into the saddle, he snatched the reins and froze.

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“You will not be doing this alone. There are four of us and it is our job to keep the

human world from getting out of control. Balance must be kept at all times, and if it means

mortals must die or get sick, then so be it. I would rather some die than the entire world be

destroyed.”

Aldo had a hard time reconciling that statement with how he’d lived his entire life,

taking care of the sick and trying to keep them from dying. Of course, he hadn’t done a great

job of it since his wife and son had died from the Black Death, along with many others from

his village.

“I will tell you this. You were picked to be Pestilence because of your training in

medicine, and because of your untimely death. Maybe it is our punishment for dying before

our time. We must go and get you ready to take your place among our comrades.”

Death kicked his heels into the side of the pale horse. The stallion reared and when its

hooves hit the ground, it took off. All Aldo could do was hold on as his horse raced after the

pale one.

* * * *

The centuries had passed by quickly since the fateful moment in 1349 when Aldo had

opened his eyes and met the gaze of Death. He no longer went by the name Aldo, but was

called Pestilence, the bringer of disease and plagues. Life before his death was a blur of faded

memories, and though he wished his family hadn’t died from such a tragic and painful

disease, he’d grudgingly come to accept his place in maintaining the balance of things.

He’d learned to laugh at the irony of a doctor becoming the Horseman to spread disease

and epidemics across the world. At times, it still broke his heart not to be able to help them,

but railing against fate didn’t help him when he began his new journey through the world.

Pestilence had gained three colleagues. He wouldn’t call them friends at all. They

stayed away from each other because none of them liked what they did. War, Famine, and

Death accepted his qualms because they had their own. Well, War and Famine had them.

Death was a different creature all together and one Pestilence didn’t quite understand. How

could Death accept the horrible burden of existing as the one Horseman mortals feared the

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most? Nothing ever seemed to bother the pale Horseman, not even having to escort souls to

their judgments.

“You may go. Your job is done for now.” Death spoke from behind him.

Pestilence stood on the hill overlooking the refugee camp in the Sudan. The familiar

stench of illness drifted up to him on the arid breeze. He’d grown accustomed to the scent

while attending to the dying during the plague. Mournful wails assaulted his ears.

“Didn’t you hear me? You may leave now.”

Turning, he met the dark, fathomless gaze of his fellow Horseman. Death stared back at

him, seemingly unaffected by the sounds of the dying. Pestilence snorted softly. After

centuries, maybe the death of a mortal meant nothing to his comrade. There certainly was

never any hesitation when Death had to do his job. The Death standing at his side wasn’t the

one who had grabbed him from the ground and dragged him into the shadowy world of the

Horsemen. For some reason, the Death Pestilence met on that faithful day had disappeared,

and this one appeared to take his place shortly after the French Revolution.

“Are you sure?”

Death broke their contact and glanced down into the valley.

“Yes. You’re the first. The others will come when it’s time.” He rested his fists on his

hips. “I’ll stay through it all.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s my job.”

Pestilence shook his head and gestured towards the crowded camp. “No. Why this

camp? Why these people?”

Death shrugged, his pale gold hair sliding over his shoulder. “I don’t ask the whys and

wherefores. When I receive my orders from the messenger angels, I simply go. Maybe the

mortals whose actions brought us here will realise their mistakes and mend their ways.”

He sounded sceptical, spitting in the dirt near their feet, his gaze dispassionate. Such

bitterness from the youngest Horseman might have seemed strange, but Death had the most

difficult job. Escorting the dead to the judgment gates after helping orchestrate massacres or

pandemics could make even the most optimistic person sour. Death had started out cynical,

and had grown more so over the centuries.

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They watched medical personnel scramble to fight the diseases Pestilence brought to

their temporary homes. So many worrying about the poor and the helpless caught between

power hungry men. It helped restore Pestilence’s hope in mortals when he saw the doctors

and nurses fighting to keep the sick alive.

“I wonder how many will die tonight?”

Death’s coldness unnerved Pestilence, driving home all the reasons why he avoided the

pale Horseman. Death shot him another glance, but there was something different in his gaze

this time.

“I told you to leave, Pestilence. Retreat to your jungle and try to erase this place from

your memories. For good or ill, this camp and its people will be gone within two months.”

Whirling away, Pestilence strolled to where his mount stood. The pure white stallion

with blazing red eyes waited for him. He wrapped his fingers in its mane and leapt astride.

With a fierce snort, the horse tossed his head and pawed the dirt under his front hoof.

Before he left, he looked over his shoulder to see Death studying him. He thought about

waving, but doubted his comrade would appreciate the gesture. Pestilence shifted his weight

forward and the stallion broke into a gallop. As he leapt into the air, Pestilence heard Death’s

voice on the wind.

“Someday you will let your guilt go and the forgiveness you seek will be offered, my

comrade. I hope you have the courage to accept it.”

What was Death saying? Pestilence didn’t have time to fully process the words as white

light engulfed him and the sound of a door closing rang through the air.

Thunder boomed over the Amazon as Pestilence appeared in a flash of light in the

middle of a clearing. After he dismounted, his stallion faded away. Pestilence strolled over to

the pool, stripping his clothes off as he went. He looked around once as he took off his last

piece of clothing. The coast was clear, so he dived into the water, letting it wash him clean of

all the dirt and grime coating his skin after strolling through the refugee camp.

After resurfacing, he floated on his back, staring up through the canopy of leaves above

him at the blue sky beyond. The birds and monkeys started to sing again, and the familiar

noises relaxed him. Pestilence loved living in the Amazon for many reasons, but mostly

because of the isolation he could achieve. If he needed solitude, he didn’t need to see any

mortal for months or even years.

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Aside from the ability to never see a human if he wished, the greenness of the rainforest

eased him, and it was so different from the village he’d lived in when he was mortal. The

jungle helped erase memories of his last heartbreaking days as Aldo, the medico who

couldn’t save his own family.

* * * *

Bart Winston pushed through the last curtain of vines and stumbled over a root into the

camp. As he straightened and glanced around him, the scene greeting his gaze explained

why the jungle remained so unnaturally silent. No one moved around the camp and only his

tent remained. All the equipment, boxes, and people were gone.

He stalked to his tent, hoping Jasper had seen fit to leave him directions to where they’d

moved. Bart had got lost on his way back to base a few times, but he’d been caught up in the

new information he’d gathered about the flowering plant and missed the correct fork in the

trail he was supposed to take.

If Jasper had told him they were moving, he wouldn’t have gone out to take another

look at the plant. Bart grimaced as he swiped an arm across his forehead, wiping the sweat

from his skin. One would think, after spending several months in the jungle, he’d be used to

the humidity, but lately, it seemed like it was hotter than usual. He dropped to his knees and

shoved aside the netting covering the opening of his tent.

“What the fuck?”

His personal pack and journals were gone. There were two boxes sitting on his blanket,

and he crawled in to open them. Packaged food and bottled water greeted his gaze when he

tugged the top apart. All he had to carry his provisions in was the bag he used to carry his

specimens. As a biologist out in the field, he rarely went anywhere without a bag to carry his

tools and vials in.

Bart backed out of the tent and stood, hands on hips, glaring in every direction before

cupping his hands around his mouth and shouting, “Very funny, Jasper. Where the fuck are

you?”

The porters had told them not to make any more sound than necessary because drug

runners moved about the jungle with ease. They’d look on Bart as a gift, whether for ransom,

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selling into slavery, or using as a drug mule. Or they just might kill him if they found him

out here.

The fear welling up in Bart wasn’t just from the threat of the drug soldiers. Where the

hell had Jasper and the others gone? And why did they leave him behind? If a tribe of natives

or the bad guys took them, would they have left him food and water? Wouldn’t they have

laid in wait for him to come back and take him as well?

Every instinct in Bart’s city slicker body told him he’d been abandoned. But could the

man he’d been sleeping with for the past year be callous enough to dump him in the middle

of the Amazon without a guide to lead him back to civilisation? As much as he wanted to say

no, the evidence said the opposite. Jasper had left him behind to figure his own way home.

Plus, it looked like he’d taken all of Bart’s money and papers he needed to get through

customs.

Exhaustion hit him and he dropped to the dirt where he stood. Wrapping his arms

around his legs, Bart rested his head on his knees and rocked slowly. The other thing he

didn’t want to admit was the fact that he was sick. He’d been running a low grade

temperature for several days, but hoped it had more to do with jet lag and the hostile

environment than getting ill. None of the over-the-counter pills he’d taken had cured it and

now he feared he might have contracted some unknown disease and he’d die out here in the

Basin.

He glanced at his watch and grunted. It was too late in the day for him to pack up and

try to find his way to the river. He’d eat something, give himself a quick sponge bath, and try

to get some sleep before heading out tomorrow. After making the plan, he felt a little better.

It shouldn’t take him that long to get to the river and he could flag down a boat to take him

to a city. From there, he’d contact the American embassy and figure out what he had to do to

get back to the states.

When he got back to Harvard, he would hunt Jasper down and kill the bastard for

running off on him.

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Chapter One

Crashing sounded through the forest and Pest raised his head, tracking the noise as it

came closer to him. A jaguar chasing a capybara wouldn’t make hardly any noise, and it

would be faster. He’d spent centuries learning every sound and scent of the Amazon.

The animals were silent, so the creature blundering amidst the foliage wasn’t native.

Should he move further back and let whatever or whoever was out there wander past him? It

was rare for Pest to be bothered by indecision, yet he admitted he was getting bored. When

the boredom struck, he’d visit one of the indigenous villages where they treated him like a

god. They told legends about him throughout their history and he found their worship far

easier to accept than any friendship they might have offered him.

Frowning, Pest listened to another loud crash echoing through the trees. It wasn’t an

animal or a native. He hadn’t been alerted to any expeditions going on in the Amazon basin.

His friends in the Brazilian government tended to contact him if there were any tours or

scientific trips underway, so he could avoid them. He owned a satellite phone and used it

occasionally to keep the cover story he’d created alive. While he rarely mingled with mortal

society, he did have to deal with them once in a while. Pestilence would tell them he was

researching undiscovered infectious diseases in the Amazon.

“Help me,” drifted through the humid air and Pest closed his eyes, trying to zero in on

where the plea came from. It was weak and definitely human. Pest stood and froze. What did

he think he was going to do? There wasn’t any way he could help whoever it was.

He stared down at his pale hands, scarred and rough from the life he’d been forced to

live. Once, his hands were soft and gentle as he went about his practice, helping to heal his

patients. No more. He’d turned his back on those days after his family died. While he could

have been like Death, and lived among humans, Pestilence chose to leave society and the

presence of mortals.

His option of whether to ignore the human or help was taken from him as a figure

stumbled into the clearing that Pest had picked to have his mid-day meal in. He watched as

the man took two steps in his direction before collapsing. Sighing, Pest fought the need to

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rush to his side and examine him. He couldn’t touch the man unless he wanted the stranger

to die for sure. Yet all of his training as a doctor screamed at him to make sure the man

wasn’t dead.

“You can touch humans, Pestilence. Just ensure your own hands are covered.” Death’s advice

rang in his ears, spoken centuries ago when Pestilence was new to the job of a Horseman.

He’d never figured out how Death knew he’d wrestled with the terrible irony of a doctor

becoming the Horseman known as Pestilence. All his mortal life, he’d fought disease until

he’d met one he couldn’t defeat.

The Black Death or the Bubonic Plague had hit his town and so many had died while he

had fought with all of his knowledge and strength to save them. Guilt ate away at his soul as

he watched his family die, one by one.

Being unable to touch a mortal with his hands without making them sick was one of the

many changes Pestilence had had to get used to over the centuries. The strangest thing was

he could kiss a person, or make love to him or her, but he couldn’t touch his bare hands to

their skin. He remembered how shocked he’d been the first time he had realised his dark hair

had gone completely white, and the whites of his eyes had been taken over by black, so there

was no colour whatsoever.

“Please help me.”

The breathy words jerked him back to the present and the man lying face down on the

ground a few feet away from him. Pest dropped to his knees, ripped open his backpack, and

tugged out the black leather gloves he’d stuffed in there when he had left his hut earlier that

morning. After slipping them on, he went to the prone body.

“Easy now. Are you hurt anywhere?”

Pest caught the rattle of the man’s breath in his chest and decided he couldn’t wait for

an answer. A sour scent hit his nose and Pest grimaced as he realised it came from the man

he knelt by.

“My name is Pest and I’m going to turn you over now. Let me know if anything hurts.

I’ll try to be as gentle as I can.”

A barely perceived nod got Pest moving. He wedged one hand under the man’s chest

and placed the other on his back, rolling him as best as he could without hopefully causing

any more harm.

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As he raised his gaze, Pest grimaced at the stench of illness coming from the man. He

hated having the ability to smell sickness. The man had been sick for some time and it was

probably slowly eating him up inside. Pest gripped the man’s chin and shook it slightly.

“I need you to open your eyes and look at me.”

Pest watched as the man wrinkled his nose and curled his lip before opening his eyes to

meet Pest’s gaze. It was like getting socked in the gut when those bright green eyes met his.

Even feverish, they were brilliant like the most perfect emerald Pest had ever seen.

“Are you an angel?” Lifting a shaking hand, the stranger rubbed a lock of Pest’s white

hair between his fingers.

“Oh man, you’re going to be very disappointed if you believe in angels,” Pest muttered.

A frown marred the man’s forehead. “Who are you? Where am I?”

“What’s your name? Tell me that and I’ll tell you mine again.”

Pest didn’t pull away from the man’s touch as he studied him. A lightly tanned face

spoke of a different heritage than the usual Latino descendants Pest ran across in the jungle.

Strawberry blond hair stuck up in spikes from sweat, and Pest realised it was from the fever

ravaging the younger man’s body rather than the humidity in the air.

“Bartholomew Winston, the third.”

Biting his lip to keep from smiling, Pest said, “Really?”

Nodding, Bartholomew whimpered and wrapped his arms around his stomach. “Will

you help me? I think I’m dying.”

“There’s no think about it, Bartholomew.”

Pest didn’t believe in pulling his punches anymore. There wasn’t any sense in lying to

the man. He pushed to his feet and Bartholomew reached out to grab his leg.

“Don’t leave me here. I don’t want to die in this forsaken jungle.”

The bitterness in Bartholomew’s voice caught Pest’s attention. Someone who didn’t

want to be out here, which was odd since most people only came to the Amazon because

they wanted to visit.

“I’m not leaving. I’m just going to pick up my backpack, and then I’ll come get you. We

should get out of this clearing and back to my place before night fall.”

“You have a place here? I didn’t know anyone except for head hunters and cannibals

lived in this part of the jungle.”

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Pest snorted. “Well, you better hope I’m not either one of those, or you’re completely

screwed.”

“I think I’m screwed either way. I’m probably dying of some strange unknown disease

and I have to rely on a man who definitely doesn’t look like a native, but must be crazy

because he lives out here all alone.” Bartholomew winced as Pest eyed him.

Pest snatched up his pack and slung it over his shoulder before returning to

Bartholomew. “Kid, you must have a death wish. You do realise I’m your only hope and

calling me crazy isn’t going to help your cause any.”

Bartholomew gasped as Pest picked him up. Pest wasn’t sure if the gasp came because

of Pest’s touch or because Bartholomew finally got a close view of Pest’s eyes. He knew how

shocking they were. Pitch black without any white or pupils. They marked him as one of the

Horsemen, creatures of legends and nightmares. He’d asked Death once about their eyes,

and the Pale Horseman said it was something that happened to all the beings tasked with

keeping good and evil in balance.

“Are you a vampire?”

His snort of derision caused Bartholomew to duck his head in embarrassment.

“Vampires are wimps compared to what I am.”

He broke all the rules by saying that, but Pest figured Bartholomew wouldn’t remember

any of the conversation. The fever slowly consuming his body would wipe out any memory

of the past couple of days.

Strolling down one of the many paths he used to travel through the undergrowth, he

kept his eyes and ears open for predators or snakes. He might be immortal, but he could get

hurt like normal humans. Snake bites sucked big time as well. The poison didn’t kill him, just

made him violently ill for days.

He’d wondered if Bartholomew would take up the conversation or just let it die a slow

death.

“If you aren’t a vampire, what are you? I’ve never seen a man with eyes like yours.”

“Maybe they’re a special kind of contacts, kind of like sunglasses only without all the

frames and stuff.” He paused for a moment, tilting his head to listen as loud crashing caught

his attention.

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“There’s no such thing as sunglass contacts,” Bartholomew argued. “Plus I can’t see the

outline of the contact on your eye.”

“Ah well, you figured it out, didn’t you?” Pest continued walking, the noise that had

caught his attention nothing more than a monkey above them in the trees. “I can’t tell you

what I am. It’s a big secret and could put you in danger if you were to know the truth.”

Bartholomew laughed, bringing on such a bad coughing spell Pest had to stop and

stand the man up to help him breathe again. He patted Bartholomew’s back, but didn’t want

to linger. While most of the natives considered Pest a god, the drug runners who used the

paths found him to be more of a nuisance. If any were out, Pest had no choice but to let them

pass. Bartholomew was in no condition to take care of himself.

“What are you, a secret agent or something? Maybe you’re in the witness protection

programme. I saw a show about that. You drew a great new life because no one’s going to

find you here.” Bartholomew gestured vaguely all around them.

“You did,” Pest pointed out.

Bartholomew sagged and Pest took him in his arms again. “Pure dumb luck, I’ll admit.

If I hadn’t been blindly wandering down that path, I wouldn’t have fallen into the clearing

and found you. What were you doing there?”

“Having lunch.” Pest shook his head when Bartholomew started to speak again. “No

more talking. We’re reaching the difficult part of the climb and I’m going to need all my

concentration to make sure you don’t end up at the bottom of the ravine.”

The younger man squeaked as he glanced over his shoulder and saw the sharp drop-off

falling to the river below. Bartholomew nodded and bit his lip, obviously trying to stay as

still as possible. Pest appreciated it because while he’d taken the trail several times on his

own, he’d never had to traverse it while carrying another person. It made his balance rather

precarious.

“You should have left him in the clearing to die, Pestilence. You can’t help him.”

He closed his eyes for a second and gritted his teeth. When did he start hallucinating

about hearing Death’s voice? Maybe he had been spending too much time alone. He’d never

imagined Death talking to him before though, no matter how long he’d been sequestered in

the wilderness.

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He heaved a huge sigh as he left the narrow trail for the wider path. The shivers racking

Bartholomew’s body weren’t from fear. The man was burning up. Pest picked up his pace,

practically jogging the last couple of feet to where his house stood.

Using his shoulder, he shoved the door open and went directly to his bed where he laid

Bartholomew down. He knelt down next to the mattress, staring at the Brit. What the hell

was he thinking? Death’s imaginary voice was right. Pestilence couldn’t help Bartholomew.

Not anymore.

Maybe before he became Pestilence, he would have had a chance at healing

Bartholomew. Now his hands brought the plague to anyone he touched skin-to-skin. Pest

kept his gloves on while he stripped Bartholomew of his dirty, ripped clothes. He didn’t take

advantage of the man being semi-conscious to check him out. Bartholomew looked like he’d

missed several meals, and Pest wondered how long he had been in the jungle. Why had he

been wandering alone? Bartholomew didn’t strike Pest as the type of guy who ventured into

unknown territory, even with friends.

Pushing to his feet, he headed to his workroom. He might bring illness and plague to

mortals now, but it didn’t mean he’d stop practising medicine. Oh, he never treated any of

the natives because they had their own shamans and healers. In addition, they might

worship him and fear him, but they didn’t trust him.

He’d chosen to retreat into the dense rainforest for two reasons. The first reason was

because it was rare to run into another human. He’d gone a year without seeing anyone else

and it suited him. The second reason was all of the unknown flora growing in the basin.

Could something exist in the Amazon that would have cured the plague that had killed all of

Pest’s family?

He shook his head with a mental snort. No time to worry about that. He had a real man

dying in his bed and he needed to get his mind on what he could do to ease Bartholomew’s

pain. Maybe this time he could save someone.

“Your job isn’t to interfere with someone’s death.”

“Get out of my head, Death. I don’t know why you’re talking to me now or why I’m

imagining you talking to me,” he muttered as he sorted through leaves and dried plants.

“I’ve been living for centuries. Why would my mind be going on me now?”

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A thud brought Pest out of his workroom to find Bartholomew on the floor. He’d rolled

out of bed during his feverish tossing and turning. Pest returned him to the mattress before

turning to head back to the other room.

Death materialised in the doorway, his hands resting on his hips.

“Jesus Christ, Death. What the hell are you doing here?” Pest frowned. “You don’t need

me to go somewhere, do you? As you can see, I’m busy here.”

He gestured towards Bartholomew, who mumbled in his sleep. Death didn’t even

glance in Bartholomew’s direction. His eyes burned into Pest’s, seeing every emotion and

thought Pest had ever had. None of the Horsemen could ever hide anything from Death.

“I’m here to tell you not to waste your time.” Death grimaced as he finally looked at

Bartholomew. “He’s to die, Pestilence, because of some illness no human has ever heard of.”

“How do you know that? Were you told his destiny by one of the messenger angels?”

Pest tried to catch Death’s gaze.

“I’m not going to say.” Death kept his eyes pinned on Bartholomew.

“You’re so annoying when you do the mouth shut thing,” Pest muttered as he headed

over to his stove. He stoked the fire and filled the kettle with water. “You just want to be all

mysterious and crap.”

Death snorted and Pest glanced over his shoulder to see Death glaring at him.

“What?”

“Do you think I enjoy this?”

Death waved a hand towards Bartholomew and Pest jumped between them. He wasn’t

going to let Death touch the man.

“No. You’re not going to take him, not when I haven’t gotten a chance to even see if I

could cure him.” Pest folded his arms over his chest and lifted his chin in determination.

Narrowing his eyes, Death curled his upper lip in a snarl. “I’m not here to take him.

You know it’s not my job to escort souls from their bodies. It is rare for me to be involved in a

single person’s death. As a Horseman, I’m more into big grandiose massacres or extinctions.”

Pest shrugged. His comrade told the truth. He’d never seen the Pale rider concern

himself with a single death. Being in charge of the four of them, Death tended to orchestrate

large-scale deaths, like the French Revolution and the Holocaust.

“If you’re not interested in him, then why are you here?”

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“Because I need you to come with me.” Death turned his back on the sick man lying on

Pest’s bed. “There’s a problem and it’s time for you to ride.”

“I can’t leave him alone. He’ll die without me.”

Pest knew how long the mission could take him. While his very touch spread plague

and disease, it took time for it to spread and take hold in the community to be infected. Bart

wouldn’t survive if Pest left for any length of time.

“Pestilence, you have no choice. You are the first wave. The others will be joining us

soon.”

“That bad?” He crouched next to the bed and stroked his leather-covered fingers over

Bartholomew’s forehead.

“Yes.”

He accepted the single word. Rarely did Death tell him anything about why he was

needed. Not knowing was fine with Pest. He thanked God every night he didn’t end up

being the rider of the pale horse. There wasn’t any way he could do what Death did every

day.

“Shit.” Pest shoved his hand through his hair. Even though he accepted what Death

said, it didn’t mean he was happy to hear it.

“Take him back out and let the jungle deal with him, and we can go.”

“God, you’re a cold fish.” Pest shook his head with a grimace. “I’m not just going to

dump him in a clearing and leave him to die.”

“It’s not my job to concern myself with humans. I do what I was charged with, and if it

makes me cold, then I’m freezing. As much as what you do bothers you, do you think I’d

stay sane if I allowed being a Horseman to affect me? Tell me this, what makes him different

from all the others you’ve made sick over the years?”

Pest didn’t know, but he wasn’t about to tell Death that. “Maybe it’s because I’ve

actually looked into his eyes and he talked to me. He’s seen me as a person, not just a spirit

or ghost.”

Death seemed confused, and Pest wasn’t sure he could explain in a way his comrade

would understand. As a Horseman, Pest had been around far longer than this particular

Death, yet Death seemed to have a stronger grip on what they were supposed to accomplish.

Pest asked once where the former Death had gone, but he’d received no real answer. The

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current Death simply said his predecessor had fulfilled his duty, so he was allowed to leave.

Pest had wanted to know where he had gone, but Death stayed silent on that as well.

Nothing Pest had done could convince Death to explain how they could fulfil whatever duty

they’d been given.

Death’s vague explanation about not wanting to unduly influence Pestilence or give

him false hope never made sense to Pest, but he’d never been able to force Death to tell him.

“When I go to places like a refugee camp or a village where disease must spread, they

don’t see me. I walk amongst them, touch them, and eventually they die. None of them have

ever seen me or heard me speak. I don’t connect with them.”

“There’s a reason.” Death pointed at Bartholomew. “If they connect with you, or you

with them, you’re less likely to do your job. You will argue and start to say no. We exist for a

reason, Pestilence, and you must complete the job you were chosen for. If you don’t, all Hell

will break lose.”

Pest rolled his eyes, but damn, if Death wasn’t right. He pushed to his feet and paced,

trying to decide what he should do. He really did have to go with Death, yet his training

called for him to try and save Bartholomew. Stopping beside the bed, he stared down at the

sick human.

“Oh for God’s sake,” Death muttered as he stalked to the door and stepped out of Pest’s

hut.

“I’m not going to leave you to die,” he whispered to Bartholomew.

He soaked a cloth in the bucket of cool water he’d drawn earlier. After wringing it out,

he wiped Bartholomew’s face, hoping it would ease his fever. Bartholomew started to

mumble and Pest leant down, trying to hear what the man said.

“God forsaken bastard. Should have known he’d dump me.” Bartholomew sounded

annoyed. “Said it would be good for my career. Good for Jasper’s career is more like it.”

Well, that gave Pest a slight idea of what Bartholomew was doing in the Amazon. He

was probably part of a scientific expedition and somehow got separated from his group. Pest

would have to get in touch with his contacts in the Brazilian government and find out which

British groups were in the country. Maybe he’d be able to find out who Bartholomew

belonged with and get them reunited.

“Here.”

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Looking up, he saw Death walk into the hut, followed by a short silver-haired man. Pest

didn’t argue as the man grabbed the cloth from him and began to wipe Bartholomew down.

“What’s Lam doing here?”

It wasn’t often Pestilence saw a lamb of God in person. Usually only Death dealt with

the messenger angels. Lam spent his time making sure mortals didn’t destroy their world,

and he used the Horsemen to do it.

“He’s going to watch over your charity case. You know he won’t let him die.” Death

waved a hand towards the door. “Come along. We’re on a schedule and we don’t have much

time. If we don’t get this started, things will get worse.”

“Worse? I’m going to start an epidemic and people will die, but if I don’t, things will

get worse.” Pest shook his head and looked at Lam.

“Go.” Lam didn’t even turn his attention away from Bartholomew. “I’ll take care of him

the best I can until you get back.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m not doing it for you, or for him.” Lam tossed a nod in Death’s direction. “I’m doing

it for this guy. All I have to say is you should be pleased I’m willing to overlook being

dragged here against my will.”

“Do you know him?” For some reason the thought of Lam knowing Bartholomew

didn’t make Pest happy.

“No, but he doesn’t deserve to die if we can help him. It’s my job to watch over mortals,

which is why I do what I do with you.” Lam went to the stove where the water boiled. “What

were you going to put in here?”

Pest grabbed the tin he’d set on the counter next to the stove. “Drop three leaves into

the water and let them steep for twenty minutes. You can add a little bit of agave syrup to cut

the bitterness, but not too much. There’s a green and gold tin in my workroom. After his

fever breaks, grind up three of the leaves in the tin with some of the liniment in the clear

bottle right next to it.”

“And I assume I’m to rub that on his chest?” Lam took three leaves out and dropped

them into the boiling water.

“Not his chest. Put it on the insides of his wrists. It’ll absorb fastest there.”

“Pestilence, it’s time.”

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The order was clear in Death’s voice. Pest heaved a mental sigh and nodded.

“All right. I guess there’s not much else I can do for Bartholomew right now. Just follow

my instructions and I’ll get back as soon as I can.”

The small man shrugged. “I’m here for the duration, Horseman. I’ll do my best, for

what it’s worth.”

“Just keep him alive until I get back. After that, if he dies, it’ll be on my soul, not

yours.”

Lam snorted, but didn’t seem all that worried about either of their souls.

Pest resisted the urge to place a kiss on Bartholomew’s forehead. Needing to take care

of the mortal and ensure Bartholomew was being taken care of while he was gone was

strange to Pest, since he’d cut himself off from any kind of tenderness after he’d died. At one

time before he became a Horseman, Pestilence had had a family and loved them above

everything else. Disease had killed them and he had took his own life, wanting to die instead

of living without them. Maybe a scrap of humanity burned in Pestilence still, and that’s why

he wanted to heal Bart.

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Chapter Two

A muttered curse caught Bart’s attention and he swam up from the fog covering his

mind. Opening his eyes, he stared up at a green ceiling. Where was he? It didn’t look

anything like the tent he remembered dozing off in. In fact, if he didn’t know better, he’d say

he was lying on the floor of the jungle looking up into the canopy of trees. He started to reach

up and feel what sat on his chest because he could barely breathe. Something had to be

sitting on him.

“Damn Horseman. One grabs me and appeals to my better nature. The other dumps a

sick mortal on me and expects me to keep the man alive until he gets back. Then he leaves

without telling me when that might be. I might have to forget my peaceful nature and kick

his ass.”

Bart coughed, and almost passed out from the pain. Black spots swirled in his vision,

making his head pound even harder. “Shit.”

“Oh, are you awake?”

A small silver-haired man leaned over Bart. The colour of his hair withstanding, Bart

couldn’t guess at the man’s age. He gasped and waved a hand at his throat, trying to get air

into his lungs, but nothing happened. The man grasped Bart’s hands and met his gaze.

“Look into my eyes and try to match my breathing. You’re trying too hard. Don’t

breathe so deep.”

Bart did his best to listen to the stranger. He stared up into those oddly light eyes and

willed himself to relax. Taking air into his lungs shouldn’t be this difficult.

“I’ve…been…ill,” he gasped while trying to make sense of everything in his mind. It

was the only explanation, but it didn’t explain why he was in bed in a hut totally unfamiliar

to him.

“Yes, but don’t worry about that now. Just calm down. You’re still alive, so that’s a

good sign. Not out of the woods yet. I can’t seem to figure out what’s wrong with you, but

the Horseman only gave me stuff to bring your fever down.” The man spoke slowly and in a

low voice, forcing Bart to really focus on his words and not his constricting chest.

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“That’s it. Good boy.”

His breathing slowed and his grip on the man’s hands eased as he managed to fill his

lungs a little bit more each time. Soon he settled back against the mattress and closed his

eyes.

“Here’s some water.”

He allowed the other man to slip an arm around his shoulders and help him sit up.

After propping him up with pillows, the stranger held a wooden bowl to his lips and Bart

sipped some cool water.

Once he’d had enough, he turned his head away and the man set the bowl down. He

wandered off towards what looked like a stove and Bart gathered his strength.

“Who are you? Where am I? If this isn’t your place, whose is it?”

“You can call me Lam and you’re in the middle of the Amazon jungle. You seem to

have caught something, but I certainly don’t know what kind of virus or bacteria you picked

up. Only God knows what exists in this forsaken place.” Lam poured out some liquid into

another bowl. “I made some broth for you. I’m not sure about giving you solids yet.”

“Okay. Did you find me? Was I wandering around outside?”

Lam sat on the edge of the mattress and faced Bart. He held out a spoonful of broth,

pressing it to Bart’s mouth. Bart sucked it in and wrinkled his nose at the slightly bitter taste.

“No, I didn’t find you. One of the crazy people who live in this area found you and

brought you here. I assume you were wandering because he’s not a man who goes looking

for contact with the outside world. Do you know how long you wandered before you

stumbled into the clearing?” Lam fed him another spoonful. “I don’t really know what this

stuff is, but it was marked edible, so I assume it’s okay. You need to build up your strength.”

“I don’t remember. I thought our camp was close to the river since the head of our

expedition didn’t want to go too far into the jungle, but it seems like our guides took us

farther in than they told us.” He sipped some more broth.

“Hmm…not sure which direction you came in from. I guess it’s no big deal.” Lam’s

eyes met his.

Bart’s heart skipped a beat as his mind swirled, the blue of Lam’s eyes surrounding

him. Visions of men with wings like angels brandishing swords or golden horns. Lam

blinked and the angels disappeared.

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“Why are your eyes so light?”

“It’s just a genetic defect.” Lam brushed his questions away.

He had a few more spoonfuls before his energy ran out and he fell asleep.

Bart stared up at a tall man with white hair and pitch black eyes. “Who are you?”
“No one you need to worry about. How are you feeling?” The man reached out and pressed his

glove-covered hand to Bart’s forehead. “Your fever is building again.”

“I’m dreaming,” he muttered as he studied the otherworldly beauty of the man sitting next to

him on the bed.

“Yes, you are.”

“What’s your name? I saw you in the clearing, didn’t I?”
He frowned at the attraction he felt towards his rescuer. He’d sworn off men after Jasper left him

in the jungle, but obviously his illness had lowered his defences. Bart shifted his hips away from the

man’s, and licked his suddenly dry lips.

“Yes, you did. You may call me Pest.”

Pest’s head jerked up like he’d heard something Bart hadn’t. Heaving a sigh, Pest stood and

smiled down at Bart. For some strange reason, Bart wanted to beg Pest not to leave him, but he knew
it was a dream and the man would disappear the minute Bart woke up anyway.

“I do believe your fever is growing worse again. I’ll have to let Lam know where he can gather

more leaves for the tea. I have to go. I’m not even supposed to be in touch with you. Death will have a
fit if he found out I’d come to check on you.”

“Don’t.”

Pest hesitated before leaning down and brushing a kiss over Bart’s forehead. “I’ll be back as soon

as I’m allowed.”

Coolness spread through him, originating from where Pest’s lips had touched his skin. He closed

his eyes and slipped under the darkness swirling through his mind.

“Shit.”

Bart’s eyes popped open and he saw the same ceiling like the first time he had woken

up. Banging noises came from somewhere to his left, but he didn’t have the energy to look.

His dry throat kept him from swallowing and he coughed.

“Oh, sorry about waking you up.”

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Lam’s face appeared in front of Bart’s and the rather annoyed expression on the man’s

face eased a little. Bart waved a very weak hand towards the glass Lam held.

“Right. You probably would like some water. I’m only going to give you a little to start

with. Don’t want to flood your stomach or anything.”

Bart didn’t even know if that was possible, but he did know his stomach didn’t seem

happy about anything going in. He turned away when a wave of nausea swept over him.

After removing the glass, Lam sat on the edge of the mattress and leant forward to touch his

forehead.

“Pest said you would continue to be feverish for a while yet. Not that he knows what

you might have.” Lam shook his head. “He sent me out to gather more plants for the fever.”

“Have you talked to him? How long have I been sick?”

Lam screwed up his mouth and thought. “I’m not sure how long you were ill before

Pest found you, but you’ve been in and out of consciousness for two weeks. The bad thing is

I don’t think you’re out of the woods, figuratively speaking. Your fever seems to come and

go, and each time it returns, it’s worse.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Bart muttered.

“It isn’t, and that damn Horseman isn’t around to help me, or let me go back to what I

was doing before I got dragged into keeping an eye on you. Of course, I will admit if he was

here, you might be cured by now. Pest has a way with healing people.”

Bart didn’t know if he should apologise or just ignore the complaining. “Then you

haven’t talked to Pest?”

“I’m not sure you’d call what we do talking, but I’ve been in touch with him. We’re

both hoping the situation he’s involved in will be over with soon, and he’ll be back.” Lam

frowned and his expression seemed worried. “I’m not a doctor or medicine man, Bart. What

I’m doing is just slowing the process down. You’re still really sick and, while the Pale

Horseman thinks we need to just let you die, I don’t think Pest is willing to do that.”

Confusion swirled around in Bart’s mind. “I didn’t know there were horses in the

Amazon.”

“What? Horses in the Amazon?” Lam brushed his fingertips over Bart’s forehead. “You

don’t look particularly feverish, but I could be wrong.”

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Bart shook his head slightly, dislodging Lam’s fingers. “You said something about a

Pale Horseman and you mentioned it again while you were talking about Pest. I didn’t

realise there were horses here. Seems an odd place for them to be.”

Lam pursed his plump lips and studied Bart. “These Horsemen are very rare and

unique creatures. Only four of them in the world, but they can be the most annoying

individuals you’ll ever meet. They really don’t have anything to do with horses. It’s more of

a title.”

Heat rose from Bart’s feet, almost like he’d stepped into a fire by accident. Moaning, he

tried to kick the blankets off. God, he wanted it to be over. He should have known allowing

his cock to think for him would get him in trouble. He was dying, all because he enjoyed

getting fucked by Jasper to the point where all his common sense flew out the window. One

day, they were trudging along, doing the research Jasper had come to the Amazon for. The

next day, Bart’s illness showed up and Jasper abandoned him to die in the jungle.

“I should have known it was all too good to be true,” he muttered, pushing the sheets

down with his hands. “I hope Jasper gets boils on his face and arse. I hope everyone who left

me here gets some sort of intestinal parasite.”

“You have to stay covered, Bart. You might be hot at the moment, but in a few seconds,

the fever will spike and you’ll get chilled.”

Lam tried to tuck the edges of the blanket around him, but Bart fought against it.

“No. I’m too hot. I can’t take it anymore. I’m tired.”

And just like that, all of Bart’s strength disappeared. He closed his eyes and rolled onto

his side, facing the wall. It wasn’t like there was anyone in the outside world who would

miss him. His parents had died when he was a teenager, and the relatives he had gone to live

with were nice, but they had other kids and no real time for him. He’d gone to university and

never really visited them after that. Birthday and Christmas cards were the most contact he

had with any of his family.

He had a lot of associates, but no true friends. Liquid ran down his cheeks and he didn’t

have the energy to wipe the tears away. It was hell finding out how alone in the world one

was as one was dying. He’d thought Jasper was the one, but it had turned out his ex-lover

used him to further his own career.

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Maybe it was better to stop fighting. He didn’t have the energy to keep following the

cycle of feeling better one minute and his body giving up on him the next. No one would

care if he didn’t return from his research journey.

“Oh no.” Lam jerked the covers off him and grabbed his arm. “You aren’t giving up on

me now. I promised Pestilence I’d keep you alive until he got back. I keep my promises, even

to annoyingly arrogant Horsemen. You’re not going to die on my watch.”

Bart started to protest, but he gasped instead when Lam hefted him over his shoulder.

Even if he’d lost weight while being ill, there was no way Lam should have been able to carry

him, yet the small man didn’t even stagger as he took Bart’s entire weight. How had Lam

known what he was thinking?

Before he could protest, Lam carted him out of the hut and across the small clearing to a

natural pool where he deposited Bart. The soft trickling of water soothed Bart’s nerves, but

his ability to care or move had been left behind.

“Thank God you’re naked. Now slide your ass into that water. There’s nothing

dangerous in it—I checked. Plus Pest said he keeps snakes and other creatures away from it.”

“How can he do that? Can you read minds?”

Lam’s other statement hit him and he glanced down, shocked to see he really didn’t

have any clothes on. He’d been too caught up in everything else, he hadn’t paid any attention

to how his body was covered.

“Shit!”

He flailed, trying to cover his groin up, but it put him off balance and he fell into the

water. The depth of the pool surprised him, so his head slipped under the surface. Suddenly

dying didn’t seem like a good idea. His arms waved as he tried to swim his way back up.

Lam’s hand encircled his wrist and he found himself practically flying through the air to

land, gasping, on the side of the pool.

“Yes, I can read minds. It’s one of my many powers, which we won’t be going into at

the moment. Maybe next time, you should ease yourself into the pool and not throw yourself

in without finding out how deep it is. I’ve been taking care of you for two weeks now and

you’ve been naked the entire time. It doesn’t matter to me.” Lam scowled at him, arms

crossed. “Do you know how awkward the conversation with Pestilence would have been if

he came home to find out you’d drowned instead of died from the fever?”

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“Sorry. God knows I don’t want to upset you or Pest.” Bart did a mental eye roll since

he had to focus on his breathing.

“Upsetting me is one thing. Upsetting Pest could have unexpected consequences. You

know, have you been talking to Pest? You didn’t seem surprised when I mentioned his

name.” Lam eyed him as if the smaller man had just remembered something Bart had said

earlier.

“I’ve been having dreams about him. He comes and checks on me.”

Now out of the water, Bart felt slightly cleaner, but he shivered as the humid air chilled

him.

“Why don’t you slip in there and wash?” Lam tossed him a bar of soap. “I’ll stay out

here to keep an eye on you.”

He caught the bar and managed a more graceful entrance into the pool. Lam turned his

back and, for the first time, Bart noticed Lam didn’t have a shirt on. At the small of Lam’s

back was a stylised lamb with the words Agna Deus tattooed around it.

“What’s your tattoo mean?”

The silver-haired man looked over his shoulder at Bart. “You don’t want to know.”

“Why? Does it say you’re a serial killer?” Bart grinned.

“If I were a serial killer, I would have gotten rid of you already,” Lam pointed out.

“True, but maybe you love the thrill of my fear and want me aware of what you’re

doing.” Bart scrubbed his hair with the soap before ducking under to rinse it off. “What does

it mean?”

“It means none of your business. I’m not here to entertain you. You do realise I have

better things to do with my time than hang around here and take care of you, right?” Lam

shook his head. “This is why I don’t hang around humans very often.”

“Humans?”

“Never mind. Are you done?”

Lam must have been paying close attention to Bart because, as he asked his question,

Bart’s energy ran out.

“I better be, or else I’ll be drowning and you’ll have to dive in and save me.”

Lam grunted and offered his hand, tugging Bart out of the water.

“I can walk,” he protested as Lam bent to throw him over his shoulder again.

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Lam studied him again, but didn’t say anything. He simply wrapped his arm around

Bart’s waist and supported him as they made their way back in the direction they’d come.

Bart kept his eyes on the path and tried to figure out what the shelter was. He breathed deep

and grunted in surprise.

“Why do you smell like cinnamon and vanilla?”

Lam should smell like dirt and the jungle, or at least like the soap they washed with.

Lam sighed. “Never mind that. All angels smell like Christmas cookies. ”

Angels? Bart started to comment on Lam’s statement, but found he didn’t have enough

energy to worry about the smell. All he had was enough strength to get back to the hut.

“Where’s the hut? I thought it was in this direction.” He gestured with a limp hand

towards the trail.

“There are people who travel the jungle you wouldn’t want wandering into your

camping site. Pest has lived here many years and has learned how to hide in plain sight.”

Lam didn’t hesitate as he led Bart to what looked like a wall of hanging vegetation.

He brushed it aside and gave Bart a little push. Bart stepped into the hut, amazed at the

sight of wooden walls and floor hidden by a screen of plants. Lam escorted him to a chair

and let him sit.

“You sit there for a moment or two.” Lam grabbed a blanket from the bed and wrapped

it around Bart. “I’m going to change out the sheets and get you some broth.”

Closing his eyes, Bart rested his head on the back of the chair, not fighting the fever

smouldering under his skin.

“Will I ever be well again?”

“Possibly, or you could be compromised for the rest of your life. Sort of like malaria, not

that I know anything about the disease. Pest would be able to tell you more, but he’s not

here.” Lam stripped the bed of the blankets and sheets, tossing them in a basket before going

to a small dresser and pulling out another set. “And why doesn’t that surprise me? Damn

Horsemen drag me here and leave me to do all the dirty work. I imagine he’ll come riding

back home when whatever illness you’ve got disappears. I’ll have done all the hard work

while he comes in to save the day.”

Bart didn’t even try to pay attention to the man’s muttering, considering all Lam had

been doing since Bart had woken up was complain. He had a hard enough time sitting up

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straight in the chair. He tugged the edges of the blanket tighter around him and studied the

area surrounding him as chills racked his body.

It was one large room, sectioned into areas by the placement of furniture, though there

wasn’t a lot of it. A small, scarred table sat next to a glassless window, making Bart think it

was more of a workspace than a dining area. He saw the wood stove with two pans on top of

it.

The entire space was sparse and rather empty looking. It didn’t give a hint to the

personality of the man who called the place home. In fact, if Bart hadn’t met Pest, he would

have believed its former owner had abandoned it. Yet it was clean for a hut in the jungle. He

spied a cable leading from a cabinet.

“Does he have a satellite or something?” Bart gestured towards the cable.

The other man shrugged. “I don’t know. Never had any need to use electronics or

modern technology.”

Again, Bart chose to ignore all the questions that statement created. “Why does he live

here?”

Lam looked up from where he’d bent over, tucking in the blankets. “He doesn’t like

people. This is one of the best places to live if you don’t want to see anyone. It’s rare to have

visitors. Not that anyone would want to visit him. Plus it’s probably best for everyone he

stays hidden away.”

“Is he a fugitive or something?” Bart really couldn’t think of a reason why anyone

would come out and live in the jungle unless he was wanted by the law.

“Hardly.” Lam paused, hands on hips and head tilted so his silver hair shimmered in

the faint light of the hut. “You know, if anyone really understood who he was, he probably

would be considered a fugitive.”

“Either you talk in riddles or my brain has been fried from my fever,” Bart complained.

“I don’t understand anything you say.”

“You’re not supposed to.” Lam grinned and winked. “It wouldn’t be nearly as

interesting if you knew all about me. Imagine the intriguing story you’ll tell all your friends

when you get back to civilisation. Maybe they’ll even do a movie about your ordeal.”

Bart opened his mouth, whether to deny having friends or anyone wanting to know his

story, Bart never found out. The sound of a large group moving through the undergrowth

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caught their attention. Lam pressed his fingers to his lips, signalling for Bart to stay quiet.

While Bart sat, Lam rushed around, quietly pulling vines and leaves down to cover the

windows and hiding the entrance to the shelter. When he finished with that, he came over

and scooped Bart up in his arms, carrying him to a door Bart hadn’t noticed on his first look

over of the room. They slipped in and Lam set Bart down on another wooden chair.

Lam leant forward, his mouth inches from Bart’s ear. “I’m going out to do some recon.

You stay here and keep quiet. If you hear someone in the hut, don’t say a word. I’ll come and

get you when the coast is clear.”

As much as Bart wanted to beg Lam to stay with him, he nodded. Whatever had moved

in the jungle wasn’t an animal. It had made too much noise and sounded too big to be

anything wild. He understood drug kingpins used the trails in the Amazon to move their

product at times. Since he didn’t have a death wish, not anymore at least, he’d keep as quiet

as he could.

His chair sat in the back corner of the room, far away from the door leading in. He

glanced around and frowned. It looked like an herb garden exploded. Bunches of plants

hung from wooden racks. There were pots full of other green plants placed on all the shelves,

along with wooden bowls full of other things Bart didn’t really want to look too closely at. It

looked like a witch’s workshop of potions. Tables were covered with bottles, boxes, bowls

and other things.

Strangely his curiosity about the flora around him was non-existent. Maybe it had to do

with the fact he had no strength to get up and look through all the shit on the tables. Maybe

all of his excitement about doing research in the Amazon evaporated the minute he realised

Jasper had abandoned him in the middle of nowhere.

He closed his eyes and tried to rest, though he wasn’t sure if he wanted to fall asleep

while whatever or whoever wandered around outside. He didn’t know how much danger he

was in, but he was pretty sure Lam would be back to save him if something went wrong.

Wouldn’t he? Didn’t Lam mention something about keeping mortals safe from harm or

something odd like that?

Bart stiffened as he realised he’d been dumped once again. It didn’t matter that Lam

had promised to come back for him. What did he know about the man besides he stuck

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around to take care of him after another man left him? Christ, what was it about Bart that

made it easy for people to leave him?

Of course, Lam didn’t really know him, and neither did Pest, so their deserting him was

a little more understandable, but Jasper and he had been fucking for over six months before

Jasper decided he wasn’t worth it.

Deep inside, Bart realised some of his anger was irrational. Jasper probably hadn’t even

realised Bart was ill. Or if he had, he couldn’t have known how bad it had been. Bart couldn’t

bring himself to believe Jasper could have been so cold-hearted as to leave him when he had

been vulnerable. If Bart had been healthy, then he could have possibly found his way to the

river and been picked up by a passing boat.

That reasoning doesn’t tell me why he took all my papers and passport. He hated the fact his

inner voice always pointed out the obvious.

He pressed his warm forehead to the cool dry wood of the chair. Trying to take a deep

breath, he noticed the tightness around his chest seemed to have eased slightly. Could it be a

sign that the sickness was over with and he was on his way to getting better? He inhaled

again, drawing oxygen deeper into his lungs. Pain shot through his upper chest. Smothering

the racking coughs with his blanket, he tensed to keep from falling out of his chair. It was too

much and he slid to the dirt, curling into the foetal position. The blanket fell on top of Bart,

covering every part of him from view.

After he got his coughing under control, he laid on the ground, absorbing the rather

damp coolness of the dirt. He drifted into the darkness, waiting around the edges of his

mind, not caring at this moment whether he died from the fever or from the chill seeping into

his flesh.

“God damn it, Lam. What the hell were you thinking leaving him alone like that?”

Bart jerked upright, every muscle in his body protesting as he moved. “Fuck!”

How long had he been on the floor? He pitched forward as pain swamped him, freezing

his limbs and making it impossible for him to move. He couldn’t even get his hands out in

front of him and he cringed, waiting for the face-smashing encounter with the ground. Arms

encircled his waist, jerking him into the air and into a tight embrace.

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Blinking, he met the dark pupil-less eyes of the white-haired man who had found him

in the clearing all those weeks ago. Bart did his best impression of a landed fish, opening and

closing his mouth without saying a word.

Pest frowned down at him for a second before turning his burning glare beyond Bart’s.

“What the fuck were you doing, Lam?”

“Don’t yell at me, Horseman. I’ve been stuck here taking care of him, washing his

sweaty body and trying to ensure he stays alive until you got your ass back here.” Lam’s

frustration and annoyance rang in his voice. “Though I will admit, he’s not bad on the eyes.”

An honest-to-goodness growl came from Pest and Bart blinked again.

“Why is he in my workroom, hiding under a blanket? He’s not strong enough to be

moved.”

“I took him out to the pool for a bath, then brought him back in here. I was taking the

soiled sheets off the bed when we heard something. I put him in here, in case it was the local

drug lord’s men. I figured you wouldn’t want them to find him, if they suddenly got a clue

and discovered this place.”

Bart rolled his head to the side and met Lam’s concerned blue eyes. He tried to reassure

the small man with a smile, but his lips didn’t seem to want to move. Lam’s eyes widened as

Bart threw his head back and went into convulsions. He wanted to scream as searing pain

rocketed through him, like someone was flaying his skin from his bones with a hot dull knife.

He lost track of whom or where he was, fighting not to lose consciousness. He feared he

wouldn’t wake up this time.

“Listen to me, Bartholomew. I’m here and I won’t let anything happen to you. Don’t

fight it.” Pest swept him into his arms.

Focusing as his vision cleared momentarily, Bart stared up into Pest’s endless black

gaze and did what the man told him. He let go and quit fighting. He slid back into the now

familiar darkness, praying to God he lived just one more day.

“Open your eyes,” a voice commanded.

Bart wasn’t sure he wanted to, but he did anyway. His gaze met another’s dark pupil-less eyes.

These were cold and merciless. The man was definitely not Pest.

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“You were the one who made Pest go with you,” he said before looking around him. “Where am

I? Who are you?”

“It’s not important where you are. I’m Death and our mission isn’t to help humans. If we don’t

do our job or deviate from it, bad things will happen.”

“Are you threatening me?”

Death pinched the bridge of his nose and heaved an annoyed sigh. “No, I’m not threatening you.

I’m simply warning you and hoping you won’tdisrupt Pestilence’s acceptance of how his life is now.”

“I don’t know the guy. How could I disrupt anything in his life? I don’t know who you are or

what you do, but all I really want is to get well and go teach my bastard of an ex a lesson.” Bart

snarled at the thought of Jasper.

The pale man studied him with narrowed eyes. “You have inner strength. I do believe you’ll be

able to survive this virus and get back to your world, but don’t fall in love with Pestilence, and don’t

let him fall in love with you.”

Bart frowned. “What are you talking about? I’m not going to fall in love with anyone.”

“Remind yourself of that every morning when you wake up,” Death suggested before reaching

out to touch Bart’s forehead. “Now go back to him. Let him heal you, but nothing more.”

Snorting, Bart didn’t move away and the world went black around him again.

Death stood in the doorway of Pestilence’s hut, watching the gentle way the White

Horseman cared for the mortal. Shaking his head, Death hoped his warning to Bartholomew

worked. He worried about the consequences if Pestilence were to fall in love with the mortal.

Death had never met one yet who was strong enough to deal with the realities of the

Horsemen. He didn’t want Pestilence hurt.

He wished all of his comrades could accept their place in the world, and come out of

their self-imposed exiles. None of them had to live away from mortals, yet they all chose to

wallow in their self-pity and guilt. He didn’t understand why.

Pestilence’s soft murmuring to Bartholomew brought Death’s attention back to them.

Breathing a mental sigh, Death feared his warning might be too late. Emotions grew between

Bartholomew and Pestilence, and Death didn’t think his warning would change that.

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Chapter Three

Pest pushed past Lam back into the main area of his hut. Bartholomew continued to

convulse in his arms and foam frothed at the corners of his mouth. Thank God he’d

remembered to put his gloves on before he’d touched the younger man. It would have been

much worse if Pest had accidentally made skin-to-skin contact. The disease Bartholomew

fought was deadly enough. With his compromised immune system, Bartholomew wouldn’t

survive any virus Pest passed on to him.

He shot a look over his shoulder to see Lam standing there, indecision on his face. After

lying Bartholomew on the bed, he gestured at Lam. “Don’t just stand there. Come over here

and hold him down.”

Lam was by his side in a second. He reached into his pack and yanked out a thick piece

of leather. Prying open Bartholomew’s jaw, he shoved the leather between the man’s teeth,

not wanting Bartholomew to hurt himself.

“How long is this going to last?” Lam leaned across Bartholomew’s body, his hands

clasping Bartholomew’s arms and pinning them to the bed.

“I don’t know. Has this happened before?”

It looked like Lam had Bartholomew’s body under control, so Pest moved back in the

direction of his workroom.

“No. Hey, where the hell are you going? You’re not going to leave me to take care of

him again, are you?”

Pest shook his head. “I’m going to see if I have any flowers of this particular plant I

found. It might help with the convulsions, or at least knock him out, so his body can rest. I’m

not sure if this is a natural progression of whatever virus he has, or if it’s because he’s been

lying on the damp dirt.”

“That wasn’t my fault. I was doing my best to make sure the drug lord’s men didn’t

find us. I didn’t know he’d fall out of his chair.”

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Pest held up his hand. “I don’t care at the moment, Lam. We can discuss all that later.

Right now, I have to focus on keeping him from swallowing his tongue or doing more

damage to himself.”

“Fine. Just do what you’re good at.” Lam huffed a sigh.

Resisting the urge to flip Lam off, Pest stalked into his workroom. He whispered a word

under his breath and several lamps began to glow. He waited until they were at full power

before he searched his shelves for the one bundle of flora he’d stashed away when he’d first

discovered it several months ago. He had no real idea what the plant was, but something in

its smell and taste told him it had possibilities for medicinal use.

“Where is it,” he muttered, being careful as he moved things, not wanting to crush

anything that might be important later.

He didn’t always keep track of where he found certain plants. Having wandered the

Amazon Basin for centuries, he’d discovered plants and creatures the outside world would

never know about. Yet he never documented them because he didn’t want mortals to destroy

them with their inherent arrogance. The belief that everything in the world was created for

humans had brought so many species to extinction, and he didn’t want to be the cause of

more of the same.

“Ah, here it is.”

Snatching up the dried flowers, he thought about what other plants he could mix into

the tea that might help Bartholomew.

“Pest, you might want to hurry up. His convulsions aren’t going away, but he’s losing

strength and I’m not sure how much longer his body can take this.”

“Shit!”

He didn’t have time to steep the herbs. He’d have to use the medicine he’d got from an

acquaintance on his way back from his last mission. Pest didn’t like using modern medicine

for illnesses, believing most of them caused more harm than good. Of course, it could be the

fact he’d grown up using herbs and natural treatments for diseases. When he had practised

medicine, they hadn’t had all the manufactured pills.

After tossing the bundle on the table next to the stove, he dropped to his knees next to

his pack, digging through for the syringes and the small vial of liquid. Pest found them and

quickly got the shot ready. He crawled across to the bed and grabbed one of Bartholomew’s

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flailing arms. Not having time to sterilise Bartholomew’s skin, Pest hoped any bacteria

present in the air wouldn’t be strong enough to compete with the strain running rampant in

Bartholomew’s body.

He inserted the needle and injected the liquid into Bartholomew. After withdrawing it,

he kept his thumb on the spot to keep it from bleeding. He watched as the morphine kicked

in, and slowly, inch by inch, Bartholomew’s body relaxed to the point where Lam could

climb off him.

Lam dropped to the floor next to Pest, and swiped his arm over his forehead. “What did

you give him?”

“Morphine. It’ll knock him out and give his body a chance to rest while I work out what

I need to give him to break this fever and infection he has.”

Pest took care of the needle and syringe, putting them in a metal lock box. Even though

it wasn’t likely anyone would be visiting him, he didn’t want to take the chance of anyone

being stuck with the needle and infected.

“Do you think it’s contagious?” Lam didn’t seem too worried about it.

Shrugging, Pest said, “I don’t know. If we could find the people who were out here

with him, we might be able to find that out. There’s so much in the basin the outside world

doesn’t know about, it takes a while to figure out if we should worry about it.”

“We don’t have to worry because we can’t catch anything, Pestilence.” Lam slapped

him on the shoulder as Lam stood. “I have to be going. I’ve neglected my duties long enough

watching over your pet project. He’s made it this far, so I have high hopes he’ll survive.

Maybe not the same as he was before, but being alive isn’t anything to sneeze at.”

“Thank you, Lam. I appreciate what you did for him.” Pest climbed to his feet and held

out his hand. “I’m not sure how Death found you, but thanks again.”

“The Pale Horseman always knows where to find a messenger angel, but I don’t

appreciate being pulled into these situations. Let him know I might not be so willing to help

next time.”

“I’ll make sure he gets the message.”

Pest didn’t watch Lam leave. His mind had already turned to working out what would

break the fever and heal Bartholomew. The solution wasn’t going to be easy to find, but Pest

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had all the time in the world to research and make sure Bartholomew made it back to

wherever he was from.

He put the mixture of herbs he used for his own tea into the boiling water to steep

while he puttered around his workroom, trying to organise his thoughts. He might have to

break down and bring one of the shamans from the closest village to see Bartholomew. They

might have seen something like his condition before, and know how to treat it. Unless their

solution to the problem was to dump Bartholomew in the jungle and let nature take its

course, which wouldn’t surprise him.

A noise from the bed drew him across the room to kneel beside the mattress. An almost

overwhelming need to touch Bartholomew swept through him. Of course, he couldn’t

because his particular power rested in his hands. Pest stared down at the black leather gloves

covering his fingers. God, how many pairs of these had he worn over the centuries?

He rarely took them off, especially when he was out in the world. Death explained that

Pestilence passed the bacteria from skin-to-skin contact, but only his hands did, which

Pestilence found odd. When he asked how it worked, Death couldn’t tell him. He’d told

Pestilence that some knowledge wasn’t even given to Death.

Bartholomew muttered something and Pest leant forward to try and hear. Bartholomew

shouldn’t be moving or whispering. The amount of morphine Pest had given him should

have knocked him out for several hours. It seemed like his body was burning through the

painkiller faster than Pest had thought he would.

The tea finished boiling while Pest took the time to clean Bartholomew off. His hands

shook as he ran the cloth over Bartholomew’s flushed skin. He tried to keep his gaze and

touch impersonal, but the smooth expanse of the man’s body tempted him. Bartholomew

was unmarred by scars or hair except at his groin. Those curls were slightly darker red-blond

than the strawberry blond ones on his head.

Bartholomew was slender, built like a runner or swimmer. His hips and waist were

narrow while his shoulders were a little wider. Blond-tipped eyelashes rested against high

cheekbones, giving Bartholomew a rather angelic appearance, but the cock in Pest’s hand

gave him purely devilish thoughts about Bartholomew.

It was shorter than Pest’s and thicker, even limp as it was at the moment. Pest bit his

bottom lip and gave himself a mental slap. No fondling the patient. Christ, if he were back in

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his former life, he could’ve been killed for that. He completed the quick bath and tucked the

blankets around Bartholomew.

He strained the tea and poured it into a small bowl, letting it sit and cool for a second

while he hunted down some more sugar. He squeezed out the last small amount.

“Have to add that to my grocery list,” he mumbled as he stirred the sweetener in to his

drink. He took off his gloves and washed his hands, drying them off on a ragged towel. Pest

tossed it into a basket next to the stove. He’d burn it the next time he needed to start the fire.

Tugging on the gloves, he decided to go outside and drink his tea.

After picking up the bowl, he checked on a sleeping Bartholomew before strolling

outside and sitting down next to the pool. He set his bowl on a flat rock and stripped off his

boots, tucking his socks into them before slipping his feet into the cool water. He was glad he

kept the stream and pools clear of dangerous creatures. Not that he had to worry about that.

Most of the animals and fish in the Amazon avoided him, just like he stayed away from

mortals.

The creatures seemed to understand his nature, unlike the humans he came across. Of

course, most of the humans he came in contact with out here were drug runners or their

enforcers. Neither group was inclined to be afraid of a single crazy man living in the depths

of the jungle. They assumed he was on the run from the law like they were.

He sipped the tea, savouring the flavours on his tongue. The birds and monkeys called

to each other in the canopy and Pest closed his eyes to absorb the serene peace hanging in the

forest. The one thing he loved about the place he chose to live was the solitude.

No sound of voices or traffic intruded. He could go years without seeing another

person if he chose. Getting back from one of his missions meant he needed to relax and forget

about all the deaths he’d caused.

Even though the village he’d lived in before he became Pestilence had a few more

conveniences than the Amazon Basin, there was still a feel of familiarity as well. Without

opening his eyes, he tugged out a locket from under his shirt. He held it in his hand, fingers

wrapped tightly around it. He didn’t have to open it to see what was in there.

Two locks of hair; one of auburn and one of black. In the dark of night, he remembered

the owners of the hair and lamented the fact he didn’t have pictures, drawings, or anything

to remind him of them. He couldn’t even go to an artist for a rendering because he no longer

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saw their faces in his mind. Too many centuries had passed and their images had faded over

time, yet he could remember the sound of their voices and laughter as he teased them.

His wife and son, the only people he’d ever loved and the ones he couldn’t help when

the Plague had swept through his village. Guilt danced along his soul and he shook his head.

No matter how many times Death tried to tell him he wasn’t to blame for his family’s death,

Pest didn’t believe it. He was a trained doctor, and should have been able to save them when

the illness appeared.

Pest understood that at the time, there was nothing anyone could do for those who

caught the disease—just hope they survived, even though very few did. He was lucky he

didn’t die from the plague himself, considering how run down he’d become while treating

the people in his village. Yet so many had died, and with each death, a small piece of his soul

withered with them, plus the guilt piled up until he couldn’t take it anymore.

“You’re dwelling on it again.”

“Fuck! I hate when you do that.” He jumped when Death’s voice entered his mind.

“I’ll stop doing it when you stop your pity party. It’s over with, Pestilence. Nothing’s going to

change the past.”

Pest scrubbed his hand over his face and heaved a sigh. “I know, but sometimes it

actually makes me feel better to think about them.”

“Understandable.”

“Don’t you miss anyone ever?” Pest stood and grabbed his boots, carrying them along

with the empty bowl towards the house.

“I’ve come to grips with my life and purpose in this world, comrade. I have no time to look back.

I suggest you listen to me. In addition, my circumstances were different from yours. I never felt guilty

for what I did to secure this position in our world.”

Pest slipped back into his hut and secured the screens in the doorway. He set his boots

by the bed and stood there, staring down at Bartholomew.

“Fuck.”

He turned to the dresser and opened the bottom drawer, pulling out two blankets. He

arranged them on the floor next to the bed.

“You do know you can share the bed with him. It’s not like you’ll catch whatever he has.”

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“Yeah, but it’s not the best thing for him to wake up next to a stranger. I’ve slept in

worse places.”

Pest checked Bartholomew’s temperature and pulse. When they seemed normal, he

stripped and settled down on one blanket while covering up with the other. He closed his

eyes and started to drift. During his mortal life, he’d learned how to sleep lightly while

treating his patients. He knew he’d wake up if Bartholomew made any noise.

“Get some sleep, Death. You’re not invincible, no matter what you think.”

“And you are no longer human. Stop trying to relive your mortal life. You don’t need to sleep.

You just chose to do so because it makes you feel like you’re normal.”

Pest snorted. “I doubt anyone would think we’re normal.”

Death didn’t reply and Pest felt his fellow Horseman break their connection. He rolled

over on his side, facing Bartholomew. Oh, he could sleep on the bed with the other man, but

he didn’t think it was right or proper when Bartholomew couldn’t tell him whether it was

okay or not.

Plus Pest didn’t trust himself lying next to the gorgeous man. Over the years, Pest had

come to terms with the fact he was attracted to both sexes. Back when he was mortal, he

couldn’t admit his attraction to men. It would have more than likely got him killed, yet his

interest in men never distracted from his love for his wife.

Maybe he’d never met a man worth risking everything for when he was alive. Over the

centuries, he’d fallen in love with men and women. Oh, he’d never truly forget the first

person he ever loved, but his heart found it easy to be open to others.

Something about Bartholomew called to him. Not just because Pest hadn’t spent time

with anyone in several months. He’d gone longer without human contact. Also, it wasn’t like

he’d spent a ton of time talking to the man either. It was probably just lust driving his

interest at the moment. Once Bartholomew was able to stay awake without convulsing from

the fever, maybe Pest would discover Bartholomew was an ass.

Slowly Pest’s mind stopped racing, and he slid into a light doze, building his energy for

the next round of dealing with Bartholomew.

“Hey, you’re back.”

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Pest blinked and looked up to see Bartholomew staring at him over the side of the bed.

Sitting up, he shoved his hair out of his face and stretched. He checked his watch and

nodded. Bartholomew had slept for three hours, and from the hazy gleam in his gaze, Pest

could tell the morphine hadn’t quite worn off.

“Yeah. I got back about four hours ago. Don’t you remember me finding you on the

floor? How do you feel?”

Bartholomew pursed his lips and seemed to be taking stock of his body. “No. The last

thing I remember is Lam leaving me in your backroom while he went looking for something.

I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck.”

“I’m not surprised you feel that way. Yes, Lam heard men out on the trail, so he hid you

while he went to make sure they didn’t find this place. You passed out at some point and

when I found you, you went into convulsions.”

Pest stood and Bartholomew’s sharply inhaled breath reminded him he was naked. He

grabbed his jeans off the floor and tugged them on.

“Sorry. Forgot about that.”

Bartholomew dropped his gaze, and shrugged. “No problem. Pretty nice scenery.”

Turning towards the stove, Pest felt his cheeks warm. He rolled his eyes at his reaction.

Hell, people told him he was good-looking all the time. Why would an off-hand comment

from Bartholomew make him blush like a schoolgirl?

He buttoned and zipped up before getting the water boiling again. He wanted to get

some liquid into Bartholomew, along with some food if his stomach could handle it.

“You hungry?”

More silence told Pest the man was thinking about it.

“I’m not sure I’m hungry, but I do know I should probably eat something.”

“Good. I’ll fix up some soup for you. Nothing heavy because your stomach won’t take

it, and I’d prefer you didn’t throw up. You shouldn’t exert yourself too much.”

He got another pot out and poured some beef broth into it, along with some vegetables

to simmer while he fixed up the tea. He brought the tea over to Bartholomew who sat up,

leaning back against the pillows. The blankets were pooled around his waist. Pest kept his

gaze on Bartholomew’s face, not letting his eyes wander down the smooth chest and small

pink nipples.

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“Thanks.” Bartholomew’s hands shook slightly when he took the bowl from Pest.

“Can you handle it yourself?”

Bartholomew nodded and took a sip. He winced at the bitter taste, but kept drinking it.

“I know it doesn’t taste that great, but it works. At least, it works to keep your fever

down and it might ease the pain from the convulsions as well. I don’t want to keep giving

you morphine. Too easy to get addicted to that. You’re going to have enough problems

building your strength back up, once we figure out what’s wrong with you, you don’t need

to be kicking a habit either.”

He snatched up his shirt and put that on as well, wandering back to check on the soup.

After stirring it, he glanced over his shoulder at Bartholomew.

“Would you like to wash up a little? I can bring in a bucket of water from the pool, heat

it up and you can have a quick bath. It’s not the same, but I don’t want you to do too much at

the moment, Bartholomew.”

Bartholomew set the tea bowl down on the floor next to the bed and wrinkled his nose

in disgust. “Please call me Bart. I would love to clean off. I fell into the pool instead of easing

into it. Lam did give me some soap and I washed up, but I must have sweated a lot because I

feel grimy again.”

Pest grunted. “As much as the cool water probably helped you with the fever, I’m not

sure hanging out in there for any length of time would be good for you. It can get cold after

being out in the humidity around here. I’ll be right back.”

He grabbed another pail and went out to get the water. Scooping some up, he kept his

ears attuned to the noises of the jungle. Lam’s comment about hearing people using the trails

didn’t make him happy. The drug mules didn’t know about his clearing and he didn’t want

them to discover it. They’d start using it for water breaks and even though Pestilence had

cleaned the pool out, he couldn’t guarantee it was completely free of bacteria, which was the

reason he continued to boil the water first before he used it.

Nothing sounded out of the ordinary, so he went back inside to put the water on the

stove. Bart still sat on the bed, though he’d swung his legs over the edge, but kept a sheet

over his groin.

“You probably have to go to the bathroom as well. I can help you out to the latrine.”

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Bart flushed and plucked at the sheet. Pest rested his hand on the man’s shoulder and

squeezed.

“I used to be a doctor. Nothing embarrasses me anymore.”

“Used to be? Why aren’t you now?”

Bart’s questions made Pest uncomfortable. He couldn’t really tell Bart anything more

about who or what he was. The Horsemen were legends and myths. No one knew they

existed, and that was how they wanted it to remain.

“I couldn’t deal with all the problems anymore. It was easier to stop practising and

come live down here.”

Pest held out his hand for Bart to take. Bart hesitated, and Pest noticed him looking at

his gloved hands.

“Sorry. I’m a germaphobe, so I tend to wear gloves, which is another reason why I quit

practising medicine.”

“Well, yeah, and since you don’t know what the hell I have, being careful makes sense.”

Bart took Pest’s hand and let him pull himself to his feet.

When he swayed, Pest moved closer and encircled Bart’s waist with his arm. He took a

breath and under the sweaty musk of Bart’s body, Pest could smell an intriguing sweet scent.

It wasn’t one he normally associated with men. He resisted the urge to bury his nose in Bart’s

curls. Bart paused at the door and Pest looked at him.

“Shouldn’t I get dressed or something?”

Pest shook his head. “No one’s out there. Trust me, the jungle would be completely

silent if someone wandered around. You’ll notice the difference when we go out there.”

Bart shivered, signalling to Pest his strength was draining away. He took a step forward

and Bart didn’t protest anymore. Pest led Bart across the clearing to where he’d dug the

latrine. He’d built a seat so Bart wouldn’t have to try and balance while he did his business.

Pest left him there and moved away a few feet, giving Bart the semblance of privacy

without risking him doing damage to himself. He stared down at his feet. What was he going

to tell Bart when the man really started pushing for the real reason why Pest hid out in the

jungle? He couldn’t really tell Bart the whole truth.

“I’m done.”

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He turned to see Bart braced against a tree and he nodded, offering his arm for support.

Bart took it and they went back inside. Instead of putting him back in bed, Pest led Bart to a

chair next to the stove. He removed the pail of water from the stove and poured a little bit of

cold water into it, evening out the temperature. Digging around the dresser, he found a clean

cloth and a towel. He set them on the table beside Bart, along with a bar of soap.

“Here you go.” Pest gestured towards his workroom. “I’ll be in there. Just holler if you

need help or when you’re done.”

“Thanks.”

Pest nodded, and left Bart to his own devices for a while. Making an inventory of his

supplies would take up his time and keep his mind off Bart rubbing a cloth over his naked

body. Pest’s cock stiffened and showed its interest in the image. He shook his head as he

pulled out a notebook and pen. Thinking about sex might be normal, but there wasn’t any

way he’d try something like that with Bart. First of all, the man wasn’t strong enough for any

sort of physical exertion, and second of all, Bart had seen too much of Pest’s true life. He

couldn’t risk the man finding out about Pest’s real purpose for existing.

“Fuck,” he whispered in frustration.

It was going to be a long couple of months until Bart got healthy enough for Pest to take

him to the nearest big city and send him home. Until then, Pest was going to have to exercise

restraint and keep his hands off Bart.

In the middle of the night, Pest strolled out into his clearing to stare up at the stars. He

clasped his locket in his hand and tried to bring up images of his wife and son, but nothing

came. All he remembered now was how Antoinette smelt and the sound of Pietro’s laughter.

Oh the sorrow when he realised he’d forgotten what they’d looked like. If he could have, he

might have killed himself again, but Horsemen couldn’t die.

The thought grabbed his attention. If they couldn’t die, what had happened to his

predecessor and the men who came before his comrades? When he was drafted or chosen to

become Pestilence, the Horseman who had taught him about his powers wasn’t the Death he

dealt with now. At some point, the old Death disappeared and the new one arrived. Where

had the current one come from? Why didn’t he seem to have any guilt about his choices

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before he became Death? He was the only one of the four who didn’t, because Pest knew War

and Famine, the other two Horsemen, were tormented by their mortal lives.

Pest never had the courage to ask Death what he’d done to become the Pale Horseman.

Death came across as determined and unconcerned with emotions, and something told Pest

his comrade had been that way as a mortal. He treated Pest’s guilt and questions with

annoyance and dismissed them as foolishness.

Returning to the thoughts driving him out into the night, Pest flicked the locket open

and stared down at the hair held inside. Antoinette’s hair had been as black as a starless

night sky while Pietro’s hair had been auburn like his father’s. Pest wound one lock of his

own hair around his finger and drew it before his eyes. Now it was as white as snow to

reflect his status as Pestilence, the first of the Four Horsemen. He remembered nights sitting

in front of the fire, studying any books he could find while Antoinette brushed her hair and

Pietro played before going to bed.

He’d been happy with his little family and his small practice in the village of his birth.

Then the Black Death had arrived and his entire world had been shattered. Nothing he had

done had saved the ones he loved. Of course, he knew now that at the time there really

wasn’t anything anyone could have done.

A cough coming from the hut behind him caught his attention and he closed the locket

before letting it drop back to rest on his chest. Time to get back to the patient who needed

him now, instead of dwelling on the world he couldn’t get back. Maybe he could save Bart

and, in some way, atone for the other deaths.

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Chapter Four

Pest strolled into the village, ignoring how the people dropped to their knees as he

passed. This particular village had started believing he was a god when he’d confronted a

large anaconda terrorising the natives without getting attacked. Snakes avoided him, so it

wasn’t any big deal, but to the natives it was like he’d cast a spell over it or something. It had

been a century ago, and the legend had passed down to this current generation.

“I need to speak to your shaman,” he told the chief of the tribe.

The small man nodded and raced off towards a hut separate from the others. Pest stood

in the middle of the village, not wanting to upset anyone by wandering around. No one liked

having a god nosing around their stuff.

He wouldn’t have come if Bart had been getting better, but the fever persisted and Bart

had burned off so much weight he was merely skin and bones. Pest had done all he could to

combat the virus. Nothing worked for long, and Pest worried that soon Bart wouldn’t wake

up. The man’s strength waned, causing Pest to take drastic measures to save him.

A commotion drew Pest’s attention and the shaman stalked towards him. He knew he

scared the old man, but the shaman couldn’t show it in front of his people.

“White Devil, why you come bother me?”

Pest coughed, covering his laugh. With one touch, he could bring the shaman to his

knees, but Pest didn’t want to be worshipped or feared. He simply needed help.

“I have some questions, wise one.” Bowing, he offered the elderly man respect.

The man frowned. “You are god. Why you need to ask me?”

“I’m a god in the white world, not yours. I don’t have knowledge of your jungle. Your

wisdom can help me.”

He kept his tone humble, and could see the shaman’s interest spark in the man’s eyes.

“Fine. Come. We talk in hut.”

“Thank you, elder.”

Following the shaman, the stares of the other villagers burned into his back. He rarely

made an appearance in any of the villages around his clearing. It suited him to be solitary.

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Actually all the Horsemen, except for Death, lived in remote places away from mortals.

Maybe after doing what they had done for centuries, they couldn’t take the vibrancy of

humans.

The native swept back the curtain of vines covering the entrance to his hut and gestured

for Pest to go in. Pest ducked down and entered, dropping to sit cross-legged. The shaman

joined him after letting the vines swing back into place.

“Ask your questions, White Devil.”

Pest proceeded to explain all of Bart’s symptoms and what he’d been doing to help stop

them. The elderly man nodded and grunted at times, but stayed silent until Pest finished.

“I wanted to know if you or your ancestors had encountered such illness. If they did,

how did they fight it?”

Pursing his lips, the man thought for several minutes. Pest fought the urge to demand

or fidget until he got the answers.

“Yes. Ancestors told stories of such an evil infecting the villagers. I give you

instructions on how to cure.”

Excitement raced through Pest until he heard what he had to do. Giving Bart a bath in

water steeped with certain leaves twice a day might drive him over the edge. Even while sick

and delirious, Bart somehow managed to turn Pest on more than any other person he’d ever

come in contact with for centuries. Fuck! He didn’t need the temptation, but he would do

what he had to and get Bart well.

“Thank you, wise one. I will do as you say, and hopefully my friend will get better.”

The shaman nodded and Pest left the hut. He made his way through the village in the

direction of the trees where he’d find the leaves he needed. He already had some dried in his

workroom, but gathering more would help. Plus he could take the time to wrap his mind

around the idea of bathing Bart twice a day. The other man was skinny, yet his illness had

burned all the non-essential bits of his body and just looking at him made Pest’s hands itch

with the need to touch him.

There were so many reasons why it would be wrong to do so. Of course, the most

important one being Bart was his patient and it broke all ethical codes to get involved with

him. Another reason being Bart wasn’t lucid enough to know what was going on. None of it

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mattered right then. He needed to get Bart well before Bart discovered Pest’s almost

overwhelming attraction to him.

* * * *

A muttered curse caught Bart’s attention and he glanced over to where Pest sat,

hunched over a magazine. The tall man glared at the page he’d been reading like it had

insulted his mother’s heritage. Pest muttered and slammed the magazine shut, gripping it

hard enough for his knuckles to turn white.

“Don’t like what you read?”

Pest jerked, almost as if he’d forgotten Bart was in the room with him. Strange how

often that happened. In the two months since Pest had arrived back home, the former doctor

had managed to treat Bart like an inanimate object he shifted around when needed. The

twice daily baths Bart endured made it very obvious Pest didn’t see Bart as anything other

than a patient. No reaction to the erections Bart had sported since his fever started easing up.

Those bottomless black eyes met his enquiring gaze and Pest shrugged rather

awkwardly.

“Not really. Just wish I didn’t have to give up medicine at times.” Pest held up the

periodical.

Bart read the title and saw it was a medical journal. “Missing out on some important

discoveries?”

“That and all the modern advancements in medicine. So many things I wished I had

access to back when I practised. So many people I could have saved with them.” Pest

touched the locket hanging around his neck.

Bart had seen the man do that many times over the weeks. He was sure it was a totally

unconscious gesture by now. But like all the times before, he bit his tongue to keep from

asking about it. It wasn’t any of his business, and if Pest wanted him to know his history,

he’d have told him about it.

“Are you hungry?”

Pest stood and tossed the journal on the table before moving towards the stove. Bart’s

stomach took the opportunity to growl and they both laughed.

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“I’d say that was a yes.”

He watched as Pest gathered all the ingredients needed for whatever marvellous

creation he would concoct. Bart never understood how the man could do that with the

limited amount of things he had to work with.

“How long have you been living out here?”

Pest paused, and tilted his head as he thought. “God, it’s been a long time. Several years

actually.”

How was that possible? Pest didn’t look much older than Bart’s own thirty-three years.

There were no lines on his face to give a clue to how old he was. If Bart hadn’t looked into

Pest’s eyes, he would have guessed the man was only in his twenties at the oldest. Yet those

dark eyes spoke of having seen things Bart wouldn’t have dreamt in his nightmares.

“Why the Amazon? There has to be better places to hide out. Places where there aren’t

unknown diseases just waiting to kill you, along with poisonous snakes and spiders. Or

frogs. Or cannibals and headhunters. Or drug runners.” Bart ticked off all the reasons why he

hadn’t wanted to come to the jungle.

Pest chuckled. “True. There are all those things here, but I was looking for a place

where people wouldn’t bother me. I wanted solitude and isolation. I’m not worried about

any of those things, especially not disease. I’ve negotiated a truce with the local cannibals

and headhunters. Snakes and spiders stay away from me. I’ve figured out which frogs are

dangerous as well.”

“Really?” Bart shuddered. “If Jasper hadn’t lied to me, I wouldn’t have come here in a

million years. Roughing it isn’t my idea of a good time. Hell, a hotel without room service is

as rough as I want to get.”

“Jasper?” Pest brought over a plate of steaming food.

Bart picked up the fork and poked at the food. “What’s in this?”

“A little frog and snake casserole.” Pest burst out laughing, bending over and holding

his stomach at Bart’s disgusted grimace. “I was kidding, man. It’s fish and edible plants I

gathered from the jungle around here.”

“Bloody bastard.” Bart flipped Pest off before taking the first bite.

“Of course, spiders, frogs, and snakes are completely edible if you know how to cook

them,” Pest joked.

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At least Bart hoped he was joking. He managed to swallow the food without gagging or

spitting it out. He admitted silently it didn’t taste too bad. Pest seemed to know how to cook

simple food with very primitive items.

They finished their meal without any more conversation, but Bart had a feeling Pest

wasn’t done asking about Jasper. Did he really want to tell Pest about being used by the

bastard?

Pest gathered their plates and went outside. Bart followed him more slowly. He rarely

ran a fever anymore, but if he overexerted himself it would flare up and he’d be in bed for

days, trying to fight it off. It annoyed him, having to take it easy, yet he knew Pest’s orders

were the best for him. He still drank a tea Pest brewed twice a day as well. It seemed to help

with the fevers and while it didn’t really taste great, he’d become used to it. Bart would do

anything he had to do to return to his life soon. Bart might not have had many friends who

would miss him, but the university would eventually, unless Jasper told them some kind of

lie about him dying in the jungle. He wouldn’t put it past the man.

He carefully sat next to Pest and watched the other man wash their plates and

silverware.

“Who is Jasper?”

“He was my lover and fellow scientist. Now he’s the fucking arsehole who dumped me

in this jungle and left me here.” Bart picked up a few small stones and tossed them into the

water, staring at the ripples on the surface.

“Totally rotten thing to do to you. Did he know you were sick?” Pest stacked the items

up and stuck his feet in the water.

Bart noticed Pest went around barefoot as much as possible. He’d commented on the

chance of getting some kind of parasite infestation or something, but Pest just laughed. The

strange man didn’t seem worried about any of the deadly things lurking in the Amazon.

“I’m not a hundred per cent sure, but my instinct says yes, and that’s why he

abandoned me. He didn’t want to be slowed down after my discovery. He’s probably taken

all the accolades for himself and forgotten about me.” Bart tossed another handful of pebbles

into the pool.

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“Why were you out here in the first place? I have to admit, I was surprised to see you.

Usually my connections in Rio give me a heads-up on any expeditions coming out and they

hadn’t said a word about you.” Pest rested back on his elbows. “Where are you from?”

“Knowing Jasper, we probably didn’t even have permission to be doing research in the

Basin. I’m a professor at Harvard University, or I was because I’m sure Jasper probably told

them I died out here and he had to leave the body behind or some such bullshit.”

Pest frowned. “You know, he doesn’t sound like the greatest person.”

“I can’t believe I fell for his spiel. I should have known he didn’t love me, that he was

just using me for my research.”

“What’s your research?”

Bart studied Pest, trying to decide if he would understand Bart’s work. He winced at

the arrogance in those thoughts. Just because Pest chose to live out in the middle of nowhere

and abandon his practice didn’t mean the man was stupid. He might be crazy, but it

wouldn’t stop him from grasping what Bart did.

“I won’t go into the long elaborate description of what I do. I’m researching the effects

of certain pesticides on certain plants. Whether the pesticides change the plant’s genetic

make-up and cause them to evolve differently or whether they slowly kill the plants. Farmers

use pesticides to take care of the insects and parasites eating their crops, but they don’t

necessarily take into consideration the overall and long term effects of those chemicals on

their crops.”

Pest seemed puzzled. “Seems like an odd research project to do out here in the

Amazon. We don’t have many crops.” Pest chuckled. “Unless you count the coca plants and

the marijuana being grown around here. I wouldn’t be surprised if there are poppy plants as

well, though they aren’t a native species to South America.”

“True, and that’s what I told Jasper when he asked me to come with him on this

expedition. Unfortunately, he knew how to talk me into going and the next thing I knew, we

were on a plane flying into Brazil. Everything was very secretive. Should have been my first

clue this whole thing was screwed.” Bart grunted and leant back like Pest, his eyes closed

and face turned towards the sky. “We wandered around the jungle, looking for something.

He never really did tell me what he was searching for.”

“Did you find anything except the virus you caught?”

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“I found a white flowering plant I’d never seen before. It gave off the most intriguing

scent. Not quite floral. Not quite sweet.” Bart shrugged. “It doesn’t mean it was an unknown

species. I’m not a botanist, so I don’t know every plant species out there. Jasper is a botanist,

and he was pretty excited when I pointed it out to him. Maybe that’s why he left me behind.”

Pest tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “I think I know what plant you’re talking

about. To be honest, you’re right. It hadn’t been discovered, but there are hundreds of species

that haven’t been catalogued yet. I could show you several if you want. Tell you what—when

you’re ready to leave, we’ll go out, take some pictures, and some samples of one of those

plants. You can have a plant named after you and everything. Get as much acclaim as your

bastard ex-lover, Jasper.”

Bart settled back on the ground, letting his feet dangle in the water while he absorbed

the dampness of the dirt. “See that’s the thing—I didn’t come out here for the notoriety of

discovering some unknown species. I came out here to help Jasper. If he’d been honest with

me from the start, I probably would have come anyway, but he wasn’t. Now I’m sick, and

will probably suffer from this for the rest of my life, and he’s fine somewhere back home,

living without a care in the world.”

He stared up into the blue sky, peeking through the leaves of the trees above him. Pest

lay next to him, their shoulders touching, and Bart tried not to think of how extremely hot

the man was. Far better looking than Jasper ever could hope to be.

Pest’s deeply tanned skin showed off his shoulder-length white hair. Bart had never

seen anyone with hair that colour. Not even old people. Yet it was natural since Bart

glimpsed the same colour curls at Pest’s groin one time when the other man was washing up,

and didn’t realise Bart was watching. A bright smile took attention from the sadness peering

out through Pest’s dark eyes. He stood a few inches taller than Bart’s five-ten, and

outweighed him as well. But where Bart was slender, Pest was built like a linebacker, all

chest and shoulders.

Bart had never thought he’d be attracted to muscular men, yet something about Pest

spoke to him on a visceral level. Now that he was getting more strength and energy back, he

found himself thinking about Pest more and more and becoming more curious every time

they sat and talked.

“So you don’t have a girlfriend or wife back in the world?”

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From the corner of his eye, he saw Pest glance at him. Bart kept his gaze on the scene

above him. No point on staring Pest down. The man would answer him if he wanted.

“Not anymore,” came the soft comment.

Something in Pest’s tone told Bart whoever Pest loved was dead. “I’m sorry.”

“So am I.”

“How long ago?”

Could her death be the reason why Pest had stopped practising medicine and hid out

down in the Basin?

“Many years ago. I’ve forgotten what she looked like.” Pest flung an arm over his face.

Bart rolled onto his side and rested his hand on Pest’s chest. He waited until Pest

looked at him. Sadness welled in Pest’s eyes and Bart almost felt bad for asking.

“But you couldn’t have been that old when you got married.”

“I’m older than you think I am, Bart.”

Pest hesitated and Bart wondered what he was thinking while they stared at each other.

He didn’t back away when Pest reached out, slid his gloved hand around the back of Bart’s

head, and urged him to bend down.

It was almost like time slowed as Bart did as Pest encouraged. He thought about not

kissing the man, yet nothing inside him yelled to stop. Maybe he should be concerned

because he really didn’t know anything about Pest. His last lover had dumped him and all

that shit, but he didn’t care about that.

Yet if Pest wanted to hurt him, he could have done it at any point during the past two

months while Bart had been ill. The man had been nothing but professional and caring as he

had healed Bart. The caring had helped convince Bart Pest didn’t mean him any harm. Jasper

had been careless with Bart’s feelings from the beginning and that should have been a sign of

the man’s true nature.

Suddenly he paused and whispered against Pest’s lips, “What about my illness? Aren’t

you worried you’ll catch it?”

Pest’s smile was soft and gentle. “If I haven’t gotten it by now, I won’t. Trust me, Bart.”

“Okay.”

Their lips pressed together, rubbing and teasing. He opened to Pest’s tongue, allowing

him to learn the nooks and crannies of his mouth. He wiggled and squirmed until he covered

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Pest’s body with his own. Pest placed one gloved hand on Bart’s ass while threading his

fingers through Bart’s hair.

He gasped as their erections brushed together and he arched, trying to get more

pressure. Bart braced his hands on either side of Pest’s head without breaking their

connection. Pest trailed kisses down Bart’s chin to his neck where he sucked up a mark while

Bart pressed as close as he could get to Pest.

“Oh my God,” he whispered as he let his head drop back to give Pest more access to his

skin.

Pest’s leather-covered hands slid around to fondle Bart’s ass and support him as he

moved. He moaned as Pest slipped under Bart’s short, and trailed his fingers down Bart’s

crease, stopping to rub over Bart’s puckered opening.

“Please,” he whispered against Pest’s lips.

Nodding, Pest pressed his finger against Bart’s hole, invading him inch by inch. Pest

took his time because they didn’t have any lube. Bart wanted him to go faster. The burn of

his muscles stretching to accommodate Pest’s finger didn’t bother him at all. He tilted his

hips, trying to get Pest in further.

“Easy, honey. I don’t want to hurt you,” Pest murmured.

“Don’t worry. I’m fine.” Bart pushed back and gasped as Pest shoved knuckle deep into

his arse.

Bart rocked back and forth, letting Pest fuck him with one finger. Before too long, Pest

had three fingers filling Bart’s channel, and Bart could feel the tingling in his spine, warning

him how close he was to coming. The friction of his clothes trapped between his erection and

Pest’s made him insane with desire and want.

One thrust in and Pest nailed Bart’s gland with his knuckles. Bart jerked like he’d been

electrocuted. Pest grinned at him and did it again. Bart grasped Pest’s shoulders and whined,

wanting more, but his brain was overloading on lust and need.

“Why don’t you come?” Pest leant over and bit Bart on the shoulder.

The combination of hands, teeth, and body drove him closer and closer to the edge. His

climax built until he couldn’t do anything except come, creaming the shorts Pest had given

him.

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“Holy fuck,” he whispered as he collapsed down on top of Pest. His chest hurt and he

winced as he panted.

Pest must have noticed because he rolled them so Bart was on the bottom, and he

studied him with such an intense gaze, Bart almost couldn’t meet his eyes.

“This probably wasn’t a good idea,” Pest said, sitting up and stripping Bart.

“Hey.” Bart’s protest sounded a bit weak, possibly because he found it hard to catch his

breath.

“Shut up and try to slow your breathing.”

Pest pushed to his knees and dunked the fabric in the pool. After wringing it out, Pest

wiped Bart off, easing the fever welling up in him. Bart took a hold of Pest’s wrist and

stopped him.

“What about you?” He waved his hand vaguely in the direction of Pest’s groin.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. I came when you did.”

Bart was surprised. He’d never had a lover who came like that. All of them usually

needed him to do something, whether it was suck them off or let them fuck him.

“Even if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t let you help me.” Pest frowned. “I shouldn’t have let it

happen now. You’re still recovering and this could mark a setback for you.”

“No. I don’t care if I get another fever. I needed this.” Bart cradled Pest’s face in his

hands. “I needed you.”

Pest didn’t say anything, just scooped Bart up in his arms and carried him back into the

hut. After covering him up with the blankets, Pest kissed his forehead and stepped away.

“Why don’t you try to get some sleep? I’ve got some stuff to do.”

Before Bart could speak, Pest was out the door and confusion swirled in Bart’s head.

Was Pest upset they’d rubbed off on each other? Maybe he was worried Bart would think it

meant more than just two guys coming. Pest had been married, so it could be the man wasn’t

gay or bi, and it freaked him out that he’d done it with another man.

As the thoughts rippled and crashed into each other, Bart drifted to sleep. His climax

had worn him out. He vowed to think about it later when he woke up.

* * * *

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“Pestilence, we have a problem.”

Bart opened his eyes when the strangely familiar voice intruded on his dreams. He was

on his side, facing out into the room. Death stood, arms crossed, in the middle of the room

while Pest leaned against the doorframe of his workroom.

“What kind of problem?” Pest didn’t look happy to see him.

“Have you left the jungle since you returned from your last mission?”

Pest narrowed his gaze and shook his head. “I never leave unless I need supplies or I

have to go with you.”

“You haven’t been to Cambridge, Massachusetts recently?” Death paced, his agitation

obvious in the clenching of his hands.

“I haven’t been to North America in a century or two, comrade, and even if I were to go

there, Cambridge isn’t the first on my list to visit.”

Centuries? Pest must be exaggerating to get his point across. Bart didn’t move. He

didn’t want to alert either of them he was awake. Maybe he could learn something about the

mysterious man who took care of him.

“I’m going to need you to go to Cambridge then.” Death gritted his teeth, and didn’t

seem happy about giving the order.

Pest straightened and glared at Death. “Death, you have never let me go anywhere

without watching every move I make. Unless there’s a war or something being planned in

Cambridge, I don’t see why I need to go up there. What’s going on?”

Something niggled in the back of Bart’s mind, but he was too caught up in the

conversation going on around him, so he pushed it away.

Death shoved his hand through his long white-gold hair and exhaled loudly. “I don’t

know what’s going on. All I know is there is an epidemic spreading through the town of

Cambridge and if it’s not brought under control, it could infect other major cities, and then

the entire state. We know how fast these things work. Of course, only four men have been

presented with symptoms much like Bartholomew’s here and they’ve been quarantined.

Hopefully the mortals have caught it in time.”

“Wait a minute. I thought there couldn’t be epidemics unless I caused them.” Pest

strolled over to where Death stood. “I’ve been here since our last mission, taking care of

Bart.”

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Both men turned to look at Bart and he jerked in surprise when matching all-black eyes

met his. Shit. Their eyes were just one of the unusual things about those two. Of course, being

Horsemen, and not human, might have something to do with it.

Another thought hit Bart and he sat up in the bed. “Cambridge?”

Death nodded, looking even more disgruntled at the discovery of Bart being awake.

Bart ignored him for a moment, focusing on Pest.

“I work as a professor at Harvard University in Cambridge. That’s where the

expedition I was on was funded through. Jasper and three of the other scientists were from

there as well.”

“Fuck!” Pest shouted, making both Bart and Death jump. “I’ve been trying to figure out

how to cure Bart, but all I’ve been able to do is keep the fever down. I should have realised

he’d be contagious. The shaman helped me, but he said the virus had to work itself out, yet

Bart will always have the symptoms. It’s much like malaria.”

“If I’m contagious, why didn’t you or Lam catch it? Both of you came in contact with

me shortly after I started exhibiting the symptoms.” Bart shoved the blankets off and climbed

to his feet. He went to one of the dressers and pulled out a pair of shorts and a T-shirt.

“What are you doing?” Pest stopped his own pacing to stare at Bart.

“I’m getting dressed. We need to head to Cambridge right away. Whatever you did to

help me might slow the disease down long enough for someone to come up with a cure.”

Bart tugged on his clothes along with a pair of socks. He looked around for his boots. “Where

are my boots?”

“They’re in the corner.” Pest rubbed his chin and shot Death a thoughtful glance.

“Bart’s right, you know. The herbs I gave him to slow down the progress of the fever might

also help stop the epidemic. He’s been getting better over the course of the last couple of

weeks. The fever still hits him when he’s tired or has overexerted himself, but it never comes

back as bad as it was. I’ve come to believe it’s the fever most likely to cause death in this case.

I might be able to help the doctors formulate a course of medicines to keep the fever down.”

Death stayed silent for a moment, and Bart couldn’t tell what the man was thinking.

There was something formidable about Death. Looking into his eyes was like gazing into the

unlimited expanse of space, only without any stars to light the pure blackness. Death had

seen everything the world had to offer and been sorely disappointed by it all.

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“Remember you can’t touch them, Pestilence. This was an unplanned epidemic. We

don’t need anything else to upset the balance right now.”

Pest nodded. “I understand, and I don’t plan on taking off my gloves for anything. This

is partly my fault anyway. When I realised just how bad Bart’s illness was, I should have had

someone look into his fellow scientists. There was no way they could have escaped the

virus.”

“How long will it take us to get to the closest city?” Bart remembered he had no real

idea where he was in the jungle.

“You don’t have to worry about that.” Pest grabbed his arm and dragged him towards

the workroom. “There are three canvas bags hanging on the wall just inside the door. I want

you to fill them with all the bundles on the left side table. Those are the herbs I’ve been

giving you since you got here. I have to talk something over with Death, then we can head

out.”

“Okay.” He picked up the first bag and watched as Pest pulled the door almost shut.

His curiosity getting the best of him, Bart inched over to the door, putting his ear to the

crack and holding his breath. There were more secrets to Pest than the man would ever let

on, and Bart found out he wanted to know them all.

“How am I supposed to do this, Death? How do I hide my eyes and my hair? It’s not

like there are many people who look like us. Humans don’t see me when I walk among

them.”

“They’ll see you this time. It’s been arranged. This situation needs to be brought under

control before it becomes an epidemic. Don’t worry about the hair. Most will assume you’ve

bleached it. Wear sunglasses, even at night. You’re an eccentric doctor who has been

studying undiscovered viruses in the Amazon Basin for several years. Use the cover you

established long ago. You’re a germaphobe, which will explain the gloves.” Death’s voice

was slow as he seemed to think out what Pest would say and do.

“How am I to explain any of this to Bart? He’s been asking a few questions and I’ve

managed to distract him from the answers, but that won’t work much longer. He knows

there’s something different about us.”

“We can wipe his mind.”

Bart wanted to scream no, but he bit his lip to keep from saying anything.

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“No. That’s not an option for me.”

“You just don’t want him to forget about you.” Death’s words were tainted with

annoyance.

“You might be right. For the first time in centuries, I’ve met someone I might actually

fall in love with and it’s getting serious with every minute I spend with him. Yet I can’t ever

touch him without a layer of leather between us. I can’t tell him anything about my

background because he’ll never believe me.”

Bart closed his eyes and rested his forehead on the wooden frame of the door. His heart

skipped a beat at hearing those words. Yet how could he be excited about that when he

didn’t really know the man? It didn’t have anything really to do with the secrets Bart knew

Pest kept from him, it was simply they hadn’t spent that much time together when Bart

wasn’t ill. If they had met at a club or bar in Cambridge, how did Bart know he would have

been as interested in him as he was?

Yet a man who looked like Pest, even with the odd eyes and the need to wear leather

gloves all the time, wouldn’t look twice at Bart. If Pest didn’t hide out in the jungle, he would

have tons of men and women flocking around him for his attention.

“You can’t tell him anything, Pestilence. Our presence in the world must be kept secret.

The Horsemen must remain myths and legends. No one can know we exist, which is why

I’ve never argued with you and the others about where you live. The less people you

encounter, the less likely you are to let something slip.” Death sighed. “When you get to

Cambridge and stop the epidemic from spreading, leave Bart and come back here. Fuck him

as much as you want while you’re there, but don’t tie yourself to him.”

Not wanting to hear Pest’s response, he went back to the table with the bags and

finished filling them with the herbs. After fastening the pouches, he headed towards the door

just as Pest pushed them open.

“Have you got all of it?”

He nodded. “How are we getting to the river? I assume we’ll grab a boat or something

to take us to the nearest big city, but I don’t have a passport to get back into the U.S.”

“Don’t worry about that. We’ll take care of it.”

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Bart started to ask how, when a warm hand touched the nape of his neck and darkness

swirled around him. As his knees buckled, he saw Pest hold out his arms and Bart dropped

into them as his eyes rolled back in his head.

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Chapter Five

A soft groan caused Pest to turn and look in the direction of the bedroom. He’d been

sitting next to the window, staring out at the cars driving down the street. It had been a long

time since Pest had spent any time in a city. It was loud and harsh on his ears and lungs.

God, he wanted to return to the relative quiet of the jungle.

“Oh my head,” Bart complained as he staggered out of the bedroom, and pressed his

hand to his forehead. “What the hell did you give me?”

“I didn’t give you anything.” That was true as far as it went.

“Actually, I remember you standing in front of me and someone touching me on the

neck. How could Death get around me without me seeing him?” Bart glowered at Pest.

“It’s a gift of his.” He couldn’t tell Bart the truth. “Are you sure something happened?

Maybe you just passed out.”

Bart folded his arms and leaned his ass on the table. His green eyes were hazy, but Pest

could tell the sleep spell was slowly wearing off.

“Don’t bullshit me, Pestilence.”

Pest winced at Bart’s use of his full name. “Fine. I don’t know what Death did to you.

He didn’t tell me what he planned. I was going to drug you, but I guess he thought his way

would be easier.”

“Why do that at all?” Bart rubbed his jaw, a frown marring his forehead. “I don’t get

motion sickness or anything like that. The only problem we would have had was with my

passport. Jasper and the others took all my stuff when they dumped me.”

“Right. We didn’t travel the usual way, so your passport wouldn’t have mattered.”

Bart glanced around and finally seemed to realise they were in his condo.

“What the fuck? How did we get here? How did you know where I lived?”

Pest sighed, and shoved his hand through his hair. “All right. I’ll give you a few

answers, but you have to realise I’m not really supposed to tell you anything. What little you

know already is bad enough.”

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“Just tell me, Pest. I know you’re a Horseman, though I don’t know what that is

exactly.”

“We have the power to travel between places without actually having to take a plane or

car. It has something to do with our horses. Well, I’m not completely sure they are horses. I

think they are magical creatures whose existence is to help us, the Horsemen, do our jobs. We

sort of disintegrate and re-materialise wherever we needed to be.” Pest frowned. “I’m not

very clear on how that worked, and Death wouldn’t go into any more detail when I asked. I

don’t think he totally understood the physics behind it either.”

“How did you know where I lived?” Bart figured he’d need a chart or graphs to

understand how they travelled to the US, so he was willing to let it go for now.

“Umm…I knew your name. It wasn’t that hard to get the information I needed to get

you back here. That didn’t take any special power, just time with a computer.” Pest grinned.

Someone knocked on the door before Bart could ask any more questions. Pest opened

the door to find a plump young man standing in the doorway, hand up to knock again.

“Oh dear.” The kid’s eyes widened at the sight of Pest. “I didn’t realise Bart had sublet

his place. I guess he didn’t plan on coming back any time soon. Can you tell me where he

found you because I’d like one just like you.”

“Kerry, what are you doing here?” Bart pushed Pest out of the way and gestured for the

young man to come inside.

“Oh my God, I thought for sure you were dead.” Kerry threw his arms around Bart and

hugged him.

Bart grunted, and embraced Kerry back.

Pest chuckled and headed towards the kitchen. He’d familiarised himself while waiting

for Bart to sleep off Death’s spell. He’d started the coffee pot, figuring the caffeine would

help Bart get rid of the last vestiges.

He turned back to ask, “Do you guys want some coffee?”

“Yes, please.” Kerry barely managed to lift his eyes from staring at Pest’s ass.

Bart rolled his eyes before nodding. Pest winked at Kerry and headed to get the mugs.

While he poured the coffee and pulled out the plate of sandwiches he’d made earlier, he kept

an ear on the conversation going on in the living room.

“When did you get back?” Kerry sounded surprised.

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“Earlier today,” Bart said.

“Ah. I came over to check on things. Of course, the word on the street is you died in the

jungle, man. The other professors came back. They’re real sick though. No one’s talked to

them for a month or so.”

Pest’s ears perked up. Kerry might be a good source of information. Death had got

them the name of the facility where Jasper and the other men were being quarantined, plus

all the paperwork and identification informing the people in charge of Pest’s persona as a

leading infectious disease doctor.

He snorted silently. Hell yes, he was the leading infectious disease authority in the

world. No one knew more about them and how to counteract them. Of course, he was

usually giving them to people, and it usually didn’t bode well for those he touched. Gave a

man a complex, knowing he could kill a person just by touching their skin.

“Jasper and the others are sick? I’ve been lost in the jungle for several months. Finally

found my way home.” Bart played innocent, acting like he didn’t know Jasper and the others

were ill.

“Did you find that guy in the jungle? Are there any more like him?”

Kerry’s undisguised interest brought a smile to Pest’s face, even though at twenty-one,

which was Pest’s educated guess on Kerry’s age, the kid was too young for Pest to make a

move on him. Technically, Bart was as well, considering how old Pest really was, but there

was a maturity in Bart.

“Kerry, focus, and not on Pest. He’s definitely out of your league, my friend.”

“And he’s totally in yours, right?”

Bart’s exasperation showed in his heavy sigh. “I didn’t say that. Actually, I think he’s

out of both of our leagues. Tell me what you’ve heard about Jasper and the others.”

Pest chose that moment to stroll in from the kitchen with the coffee and sandwiches. “I

thought everyone might be hungry as well. I know we didn’t have a chance to eat before we

left Brazil this morning.”

Kerry eyed the sandwiches, but shook his head. “No, I better pass. I’ve been trying to

lose some weight.”

“Why? I think you look good the way you are.” Pest handed Kerry his mug and smiled.

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The kid blushed and ducked his head. “Yeah, well, you’re the only one who thinks so. I

haven’t been able to get a date since I got here. I think they all see me as the lovable sidekick,

not the hot hero.”

“Being the hot hero isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. People expect you to be perfect all the

time and you can’t ever have a bad day where you just want to rip someone’s head off for

looking at you wrong. You have to be on a hundred per cent of the time.” Pest shook his

head. “I’d much rather be the sidekick. I could make people laugh and be funny without

worrying about how anyone looked at me. I would rather make someone laugh or smile than

make them pant with lust.”

Bart eyed him. “Seriously?”

Pest shrugged. “Lust has its place in a relationship, but so does laughter and just plain

having fun with each other.”

“Hmmm…” Bart didn’t sound convinced.

“Whatever. Kerry, could you tell us what else you know about Jasper and the other

professors? I have to admit I’m curious to examine them and see what they might have

brought back from the rainforest.”

“Why would you?” Kerry wrinkled his nose in disgust. “They say whatever it was is

pretty terrible. Like boils and open sores. Disgusting.”

“I was doing my own research in the Amazon when I ran across Bart here. I took him in

and helped get him home. When we reached Rio, we heard news about the illness overtaking

the rest of the expedition party.” Pest settled back in his chair and crossed one leg over the

other. “I’m an infectious disease doctor, specialising in undiscovered viruses. I do believe this

is one of them. So I’m curious about seeing them.”

Bart pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows at Pest’s explanation. With him out cold,

Pest couldn’t let him know what their back-story was going to be. Pest could only hope Bart

went along with it because Pest needed to see those other men.

“Everyone’s going to be so excited you’re back, Bart. We were sure you’d died in the

jungle. Dr Jones didn’t really have time to explain what happened. They got back and within

a day or two, the CDC had them quarantined. No one’s been able to see them.”

Pest sipped his coffee and ate his sandwich while Bart and Kerry caught up on

everything that happened in the time Bart was gone. As much as he wanted to hurry and see

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the patients, he also needed to go and get some clothes. What he wore in the jungle wasn’t

appropriate for the rest of the world.

They finished and Pest took all the plates and cups into the kitchen. He rinsed them

while Bart and Kerry continued talking. When he came back out, they were silent, just sitting

there. He glanced between them and smiled.

“How would you like to take me clothes shopping, Kerry? I’m afraid I don’t own

anything nice enough to meet with the doctors and authorities.”

Kerry’s brown eyes lit up as he nodded eagerly. “I’d love to go with you. Are you going

with us?”

Bart nodded. “Yeah, I am. I’m not sure about letting you two loose on an unsuspecting

public.”

“Hey.” They protested, but Bart just waved his hand at them as he wandered towards

the bedroom.

“I’ll change and we can head out.”

Pest turned back to look at Kerry. “How do you know Bart?”

“He was my professor for one of my graduate classes. After I passed, we became

friends. He’s really helped me become more self-confident and everything. I was really upset

when I heard he’d died in the jungle.”

“If you heard that, then why did you come over here?”

Kerry ducked his head. “Like I said, I came over to check on things, maybe start

packing his stuff up. I don’t know. Bart is pretty much my only friend and I didn’t like the

idea of him not being around anymore. Besides, I never did like Dr Jones. I wouldn’t be

surprised to find out the man left Bart behind. He just used him for his intelligence. Bart’s

really smart, you know.”

“I know. If Dr Jones left Bart behind, karma paid him back for his actions, don’t you

think?” Pest put his hand on Kerry’s shoulder and squeezed.

“I’m not sure I believe in karma or fate.” Kerry shrugged.

“I do and I can tell you, assholes—like Dr Jones seems to be—are always paid back in

kind.” Pest spoke from his centuries of experience, seeing how the bad people did to others

would come back and bite them on the ass.

“Let’s go.”

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Bart walked past them and went to the door, opening it and gesturing for them to

follow him. They left the condo and hailed a cab to take them to the nearest clothing store.

Three hours and a lot of Pest’s money later, they returned to Bart’s condo, exhausted

but happy. Pest had got the clothes he needed and spent time with Bart in the man’s natural

territory. It gave Pest a hint to Bart’s true personality.

Bart never dismissed any suggestion Kerry made about clothes. He didn’t make fun of

Kerry’s opinions after making sure Kerry voiced them. He encouraged his friend at every

opportunity and Pest could see Kerry’s confidence grow by the minute. The man Pest might

be falling in love with seemed to be a good guy, caring and friendly.

Kerry took his leave when they got all the bags inside. Pest thought about hanging the

clothes up, but he spotted the flush colouring Bart’s cheeks and decided his friend needed to

get some sleep.

“Why do you go and lie down? I’m sure the fever’s spiking again. I’ll brew up some of

the herbs for you.” He cradled Bart’s face in his hand.

Bart nuzzled closer in his hand. “Thanks. I guess I’m not as well as I thought.”

“Something tells me this fever will be the one thing you keep from your expedition in

the Amazon.” He could tell Bart wanted to say something, but he didn’t let him. “Just go get

in bed. I’ll be right in with your tea.”

He watched Bart stumble a little as he made his way to his bedroom. He should have

kept an eye on Bart and cut their shopping trip short the minute he saw the fever coming

back. Thank God, he’d done some tests before hand and determined Bart was cured, except

for the fever.

After gathering the pouches, he went into the kitchen and brewed up the herbal tea. He

added honey instead of agave syrup. He poured a cup and took it into the bedroom. Bart was

already curled up under the blankets, his eyes closed and his breathing a little constricted.

“Here.” He sat on the edge of the bed and helped Bart sit up enough to drink the hot

liquid. “Take it easy. It’s still pretty hot.”

Bart blew on the tea and his pursed lips made Pest’s cock perk up in interest. He shifted

slightly at the constriction of his pants, but it wasn’t the right time to do anything about his

lust. Bart needed to rest and Pest needed to do some research.

“Are you and Death like the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse?”

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Pest froze at Bart’s question. Uneasiness ran through him and he wondered what Bart

had heard while Death was around.

“Why ask this now? Why didn’t you ask while we were in the jungle? Anyway, how

could we be when there’s only two of us?” His laughter sounded forced.

“I was too caught up in trying to live. I didn’t really think about your name, or his for

that matter. He called you Pestilence, and his name is Death. Those are some pretty

gruesome nicknames if you aren’t.” Bart lay back down, but kept his gaze on Pest. “How did

you become friends?”

“I wouldn’t call us friends, per se. We work together, so we’re colleagues.” Pest tucked

the blankets around Bart’s shoulders before standing.

“What do you do? You used to be a doctor, but what do you do now? Why can’t you

touch anyone without a layer of leather between your skin and theirs? And I doubt it has

anything to do with being afraid of germs.”

Pest held up his black leather-covered hands. “I fear germs very much, Bart, though it’s

more for others whom I touch that I worry. I’m immune to disease and illness. Have been

since I became what I am.”

“What are you? What is Death? And is Lam one of you?”

Bart’s eyes drooped and Pest knew it was only a matter of seconds before Bart would

fall asleep. The herbs brought the fever down, but they also acted like a sedative. Pest leant

down and brushed a kiss over Bart’s forehead.

“Sleep, honey. You can interrogate me later when you wake up.”

“I’ll keep asking until you tell me the truth, Pest. I want to know all your secrets.”

Pest watched Bart drift into slumber. “Something tells me you might come to regret my

saving your life,” Pest mumbled as he left Bart to sleep.

* * * *

“What time is it?”

Pest looked up from the computer screen he’d been staring at for the past twenty

minutes. He glanced at his watch. “It’s around midnight. You slept for about four hours. Are

you hungry? There’s spaghetti in the refrigerator if you are.”

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Bart paused like he was trying to decide whether he was hungry or not. As Pest

watched him, his stomach growled.

“I guess that says it all.” Bart grinned at him and shuffled off to get food.

Pest had eaten earlier, even though he didn’t need to, he ate to feel more normal. The

same reason why he’d actually sleep when it got dark. He waited until Bart came back with a

plateful of pasta and sat down on the couch before talking again.

“Tomorrow morning, we’ll go to see the Dean of your discipline. See if he can get us in

to see Jasper and the others. I think they’ll be so shocked at seeing you again, they’ll agree to

anything you ask. Plus the doctors handling the others’ cases will want to examine you.” Pest

leant back in his chair and laid his head against the headrest. “Do you think the virus

mutated when it left the humidity of the rainforest?”

Bart grunted and Pest continued on.

“I’m trying to figure out why you didn’t end up with boils and open sores. Your fever

was very high for several weeks. Lam worried your brain set on fire because of how hot you

were.”

“Lam’s a friend of yours?”

Pest tilted his head to the side and spied Bart staring at him. “I wouldn’t necessarily call

him a friend. He’s worked with us on a few missions, but it’s always been at Death’s

request.”

“But you trusted him enough to leave him to watch me while you were gone?” Bart put

his empty plate on the coffee table and curled up in the corner of the couch, feet tucked

under him and arms wrapped around his knees.

“I didn’t have much of a choice. Death needed me to go with him. Plus when Lam gives

his word, you can trust him to keep it. He promised he would keep you alive until I got back,

and that’s exactly what he did.” Pest looked back up at the ceiling. “Aside from my

comrades, Lam is the one creature I’d trust with someone else’s life.”

“Your comrades? What are you, Russian?” Bart frowned.

Pest shook his head. “The three men I work with aren’t my friends, but they are more

than mere associates. I’d hesitate to call them family or anything intimate. We avoid being

around each other as much as we possibly can. The only one who sees each of us

individually is Death.”

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“Are you a cult who believe you’re the Four Horsemen or something? Are the other two

called War and Famine?” Bart snorted in disbelief.

Silence filled the room as Pest decided what he could tell Bart without getting in trouble

with Death and have Bart believe him. There wasn’t much he could reveal, and he knew it.

Either way he was screwed, yet he couldn’t stop himself.

He stood and joined Bart on the couch. He unbuttoned his shirt and tugged the bottom

out of his jeans.

“What are you doing? I don’t think stripping is quite the way to answer my questions,

though it’s a good way to distract me.” Bart seemed a little nervous.

“Don’t worry. I just want you to see something.” Pest took off his shirt and removed his

gloves.

He reached around to the small of his back and rubbed his fingers there. After a minute,

heat blossomed and he put his gloves back on. Turning to present his back to Bart, he said,

“Tell me what you see there, but don’t touch it.”

“It looks like a Roman seal. I dated an archaeologist for a while and his area of expertise

was Rome. What does it say and why do you have it on your back? Why didn’t I see it

before? It’s not a tattoo. It’s more like a brand.”

“Coniecturalem artem esse medicinam. Medicine is the art of guessing. I thought it was a

fitting motto for me, especially after watching my own family die because I didn’t know how

to cure them.” Pest turned to face Bart again. “I can’t tell you anything about what I do. You

wouldn’t believe me. You ask me these questions, all the while you’re thinking I’m crazy or

just pulling your leg.”

Bart opened his mouth and Pest pressed his fingers against his lips.

“Don’t deny that’s what you’re thinking. I know better, Bart. I’ve never told anyone the

truth because no one would ever believe me. To be honest, though, I’ve never met anyone I

ever wanted to share the real truth with.” He narrowed his gaze at Bart. “What makes you

different from the others?”

“I know there’s something strange about you and Death and Lam. Your eyes are weird.

You have the strangest coloured hair I’ve ever seen, and I know yours is natural. You came

and visited me in my dreams.” Bart jerked to his feet and paced. “Why can’t you tell me the

truth?”

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“What kind of truth do you want, Bart? The truth is my family died during the Bubonic

Plague outbreak in the 1300s. I was a doctor, but nothing I did could save them or anyone

else in my village. I took my own life because I felt so guilty. What else did I have to live for?

They were gone. My wife and son had died.” Pest touched the locket hanging around his

neck.

“You’re saying you’re dead. You killed yourself in the 1300s. That’s not possible.” Bart

continued to pace.

“Of course it’s not possible. Why do you think I’ve never told you or anyone about this?

No one, unless they’re completely crazy, will believe me.” Pest pulled his shirt back on and

stood. He went to the window, looking out over the street.

“Pestilence, you must stay silent.” Death’s admonishment echoed through Pest’s mind.

“Or what? I’ll die or you’ll kill me, but I can’t die, so any sort of threat you make is pointless.”

Pest leaned his head on the cool glass.

“You’re the one who chose to become a Horseman. No one forced you.”
“Wait a minute. I didn’t choose to become Pestilence. I killed myself and somehow that elected

me to this job. I never had one chance to get out of it.”

Death’s silence told Pest his fellow Horseman had said all he was going to on the

subject.

“Why can’t I say something? He’ll just think I’m crazy, but for once in my eternal life, I’ll have

told someone the truth.”

Pest wasn’t expecting Bart’s touch, so when the other man’s hand landed on his

shoulder, he jumped.

“Sorry.” Bart slipped his arms around Pest’s waist, and tugged him into a tight

embrace. He rested his hands low on Pest’s stomach. “I’m sorry about your family. Do you

have pictures of them in the locket?”

Laughing softly, Pest shook his head. He reached up and opened the locket to show it

to Bart. “It’s locks of their hair. Cameras didn’t exist when they were alive, and by the time I

found an artist to do a rendering of them, I’d forgotten what they looked like. At times, I can

remember what my son’s laughter or my wife’s voice sounded like, but for the most part,

they’re a feeling in my heart and nothing more.”

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“I wasn’t very close to my parents. When they died, I was upset for a little while, but it

was more like a slight blip on my radar. You know, I realised today that Kerry is truly my

only close friend, and we aren’t that close.” Bart paused and sighed. “I should say I wasn’t

that close to Kerry. I never invested myself in any sort of relationship. Too much work.”

“After my village was wiped out by the plague, I became a hermit, staying in my house

and not allowing anyone to come visit me. I didn’t want the responsibility of being a doctor

anymore. Too difficult to believe in my meagre training. So many people died and I couldn’t

do anything about it.”

Bart hesitated, and Pest waited for him to comment on Pest’s memories being delusions

or something like that, but Bart didn’t say anything like that. He simply stroked his fingers

over Pest’s skin. Pest thanked God it was only his hands no one could touch. He’d hate it if

he couldn’t feel Bart’s hands on his body.

“What could you have done? From what I read about the plague, no one knew how to

treat it. How did you manage not to catch it?”

Pest shrugged and ran his fingertip over the locks of hair in the necklace. “I don’t know.

Fate must have had a different plan, though I’m not sure why suicide would be on the course

charted for me.”

For the first time since becoming a Horseman, Pest was tired. He closed his eyes and

laid his head on Bart’s shoulder, silently asking the man to hold him. Bart ran his hands up

and down Pest’s back to soothe him, avoiding the mark on his lower back.

“Why aren’t you running away from me, screaming about the crazy man? We’re in

civilisation now. It’ll be easy to find someone to help you.”

Bart shrugged. “Maybe because I’m still tired and none of this has sunk in yet. Maybe

because I can tell you believe it. I’ve always had feeling there was something different about

you, Pest. I might be a scientist and tend to believe what I can see instead of accepting

someone’s word on a possibility, but I’m willing to suspend my doubt for a little while.”

“Death is going to be furious with me for saying even what little I told you,” Pest

admitted.

“Screw him. He’s not here and he doesn’t matter. What’s happened is between us and

we’ll deal with it. Why don’t we go to bed,” Bart switched the topic. “It’s been a long day,

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and something tells me the way you brought us to Cambridge wasn’t as effortless as you’ve

been acting.”

“Good idea,” Pest agreed, even though he didn’t want to lose the warmth of Bart’s arms

around him. “Do you want to use the bathroom first? I can change and make sure the guest

bed has sheets.”

“Guest bed?” Bart eased back and looked at Pest. “Why would you be sleeping in the

guest bed?”

“Why would I assume I’d be sharing your bed? Now that you know the real truth about

me. I mean, sure, we rubbed off on each other, but does that mean you want to see if we

could be more than fuck buddies?”

Christ, he hated sounding so unsure. One wouldn’t think he hadn’t lived centuries and

had more than one relationship. He mentally slapped himself upside the head. He’d had

other lovers, but none seemed to become as serious as what was happening between him and

Bart.

“Have you ever had an affair with a man?” Bart took Pest’s hand and led him towards

the master bedroom.

“Sure. I’ve lived too long not to realise love has nothing to do with the sex of the

person, and everything to do with the person themselves. If I were to make an educated

guess, I would say I was probably bisexual when I was married, but back then, you didn’t

admit to liking men. Not if you wanted to live.”

Pest didn’t fight, not that he wanted to. They got ready for bed and climbed under the

blankets to snuggle close together. He knew Bart wanted to know more, but Pest wasn’t sure

he should continue. It might lead to other confessions, and Pest figured Death was poised to

come and kidnap him if he kept talking.

“You’re not uncomfortable about this, are you?” Bart brushed Pest’s hair off his

forehead.

“No, I’m not. I miss sharing a bed with someone, but I wouldn’t allow myself to admit

that aloud. It’s difficult to find a person willing in the middle of the Amazon.” He chuckled.

“I bet.” Bart winked. “I didn’t see anyone during the time I wandered the jungle and

even when you found me, I’d only saw you, Lam, and Death.”

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“The natives stay away from me. They think I’m a god, or at least a demi-god. There are

legends about me passed down through generations,” Pest bragged with a grin.

“Impressed with yourself, huh?”

“Not really. I think it’s funny. I never thought I’d be a legend in the history of a people I

didn’t even know existed when I practised medicine.”

He closed his eyes and breathed in Bart’s fresh male scent, letting it ease him even

more. Bart caressed his cheek.

“Sleep, Pest. All of this will still be here when you wake up.”

Giving over his trust to Bart for the night, he slid into slumber, knowing he wouldn’t be

dreaming that night.

He and Death stood in a familiar barren landscape, their horses pawing the ground behind them.

Pestilence squared his shoulders, ready to get chewed out by Death. The Pale Horseman didn’t say

anything, just stared out over the wasteland of nothingness.

“Why did you bring me here?”

Death stretched, his bones popping and joints creaking. “No reason.”

“You always have a reason for everything you do, Death. Don’t lie to me.” Pestilence folded his

arms over his chest and glared at the man.

“You’re not thinking clearly. Your emotions are caught up in this mortal and it could lead to all

of us being discovered.” Death didn’t look at him.

“Don’t give me that shit, Death. Do you really think Bart would run out and tell the whole

world the Four Horsemen are real and he knows one of them? He’d either be locked up or laughed out

of society. He’d become one of those tabloid sensations.” Pestilence stuffed his hands in his pockets and
scuffed his feet in the dirt. “I don’t even know if he believes me or not.”

“I think he believes.” Death ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh. “I knew a time like this

would come, but I wasn’t really ready for it.”

“A time like what? When our presence will be revealed to the world?” Pestilence snorted.

“Don’t worry. No one will believe except for the crazies and people never take them seriously

anyway.”

“You’re right of course. I’m silly to worry about it. Go back to your sleep, comrade. You have

much to do tomorrow.”

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Death conceded too quickly on the argument. Pestilence narrowed his eyes and studied the pale

Horseman. Something else was going on here, but he knew it was near impossible to get Death talking

if he didn’t want to do so.

“All right. I’m going back to my bed, but don’t think I didn’t notice you not answering my

questions. There’s something going on here, but you’re not going to tell me.”

Swinging around, he whistled for the white stallion. The horse trotted over to him and he

mounted. As he turned to leave, he glanced down at Death. The sorrow dancing across the other
Horseman’s face stopped him for a second. It disappeared and Death’s normal dispassionate expression

returned.

“I’ll contact you in a few days after you’ve had a chance to look at the others. We’ll decide then

how to handle this outbreak.”

He nodded and kicked the stallion with his heels. The horse reared and broke into a run before

leaping.

The boom of thunder shook the condo where Pest and Bart slept, but neither man

reacted to it. They settled closer to each other, finding comfort in the other’s presence.

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Chapter Six

The smell of bacon enticed Bart from his bed the next morning. He wandered down the

hall to the kitchen, freezing in surprise at the sight of Pest standing in front of the stove. His

white hair hung in a braid down his back to his ass. He wore black dress pants and a green

button-down shirt. Bart must have made some sort of sound because Pest turned and smiled

at him.

“Good morning. I hope you slept well.”

“Ah, yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Yes, I did. Thanks. You didn’t have to cook

breakfast. Hey, did it rain last night?”

“I don’t mind cooking when I can do it with modern appliances. As to rain, I don’t

think so. Why?”

“I thought I heard thunder last night. Must have been dreaming or something.”

Pest slid the bacon on a plate and then carried it over to the table. “Possibly. Sit and eat.

I set up an appointment with your Dean for ten this morning. That should give you enough

time to eat and get dressed.”

Bart sat and filled his plate while Pest cleaned up the counters. He sipped the coffee and

grimaced.

“Doesn’t taste quite as good as the java we had down in the Amazon, does it?” Pest

joined him at the table, sitting back in his chair and crossing his legs.

“No, it doesn’t. Must be because it was a lot fresher.”

Pest nodded. “That and the water’s cleaner down there as well.”

He ate a few bites of his eggs before clueing in on what Pest had said. “You made an

appointment with Dr Kakkar? Did you get to talk to him? How did he react when he found

out I was alive and well?”

“I talked very briefly with the doctor. He was shocked and amazed you survived. Also,

he’s not very keen on letting me see the other men. I think he assumes I’m just a gawker, not

an expert or anything.” Pest frowned down at his cup. “I’m hoping he doesn’t automatically

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quarantine you when he finds out how sick you were. As far as I know, you’re no longer

contagious.”

“But how does he know that?” Bart shrugged and finished his breakfast. “Did you tell

him who you were?”

“Of course I did. I gave him all my credentials and references, so we’ll see if he’s done

his research by the time we get there.” Pest drained his coffee and stood, gesturing to Bart’s

plate. “Are you finished or would you like more?”

Bart shook his head and handed the plate to Pest. “I’m done. Thanks for cooking. I’m

going to get dressed now and we’ll head to the campus. I want to check my office, if I even

have one anymore, before we go see the Dean.”

“I’m sure he’ll let you know everything when we meet with him.” Pest shooed him

towards the bedroom. “Go on. I want to see where you teach. I’ve never been to Harvard

before.”

“Okay.”

Bart didn’t waste time. He showered quickly and got dressed. Instead of a suit like he

knew Pest would be wearing, he put on a pair of khakis and white dress shirt. He found a

pair of loafers and slipped them on. He rarely wore a tie while he taught and did his

research. There wasn’t any point in starting now.

Walking down the hall, he fastened his watch and tried not to get nervous about the

upcoming meeting. Why was he getting worried? It wasn’t like he was the one who had

abandoned his fellow scientists in the jungle. He’d been left behind and that would be

Jasper’s problem, not his. He stepped into the living room and spotted Pest standing by the

door.

His mouth dropped open. Holy hell did the man clean up well. The pants fit Pest

perfectly, as did the shirt. Pest had tugged on a suit coat and put on a deep blue silk tie. As

Bart watched, Pest slipped on a pair of sunglasses and checked his image in the mirror

hanging in the front entry.

“You look amazing,” Bart blurted out.

Pest turned and smiled at him while scanning Bart’s body. “So do you, though I have to

admit, I’m rather partial to the shorts and no shirt look you rocked down in the rainforest.”

Bart ducked his head and felt his cheeks heat. “We’d better go.”

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Opening the door, Pest bowed and flung his arm out. “After you, good sir.”

Shaking his head, Bart walked through and made sure the door was locked before they

headed down to the street. They flagged down a cab. After climbing in, he gave the driver

the address and they settled back against the seat. Pest reached over and took Bart’s hand in

his.

Bart started to protest, not wanting the cabbie to see them holding hands, but when he

met Pest’s sun-glass buffered gaze, he realised he needed the man’s touch. He’d been

plucking nervously at his pant leg.

“Don’t worry. I won’t let anything bad happen to you,” Pest promised.

He wasn’t sure Pest would be able to stop anything from happening, but he appreciated

the words. He spotted a briefcase on the floor by Pest’s feet.

“When did you get a briefcase?”

“I picked one up yesterday while you and Kerry were debating the blue striped or red

striped shirt.” Pest nudged it with the toe of his shoe. “I thought it would make me look

more official. What do you think?”

“It looks expensive, but do you have anything in there?”

Pest looked offended. “Of course I do. All my references are in there along with a few of

the medical journals I’ve had papers published in. As much as I keep away from people, I am

quite well known in the infectious disease community as a researcher. I’m the reclusive and

strange doctor who makes his home in the Amazon Basin where many bacteria and viruses

lurk without anyone ever discovering them. I’m trying to find homeopathic methods of

curing them.”

“Truly?” Bart tilted his head as he studied Pest.

“Yes. I have to do something between missions. Why not try to find cures for diseases

no one has seen before? Maybe something I find will stop an epidemic like the Black Death or

something as deadly as that.”

“I guess that’s a possibility. So Dr Kakkar shouldn’t have a problem with you asking to

see Jasper and the others.” Bart pursed his lips. “What about me?”

“I think once Dr Kakkar and the others find out you’ve survived whatever the others

have, they’ll want to bring you in for tests.”

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Bart tensed. He didn’t want anyone poking and prodding him, but he understood why

they’d do it. “You won’t abandon me in the hospital, will you?”

Pest shook his head. “No. Why would I do that? You’re healthy now, except for that

pesky fever coming and going like it is. You’re not infectious like they are and on the road to

a full recovery.”

The cab pulled up to the kerb in front of a large stone building.

“Here we are.” Bart paid the driver before climbing out.

Pest stepped out of the vehicle and studied the large structure. “I love old architecture.

They really built them better back then.”

“Are you ready?” Bart asked.

“Yes. We need to get going on this.” Pest gestured for Bart to lead the way. “You know

where you’re headed.”

“Right.” Bart straightened his shoulders.

They went up the steps and into the building. He winced as their footsteps echoed

through the entrance rotunda. He’d rarely been in the Dean’s office, having flown under the

radar for much of his teaching career. Bart stopped in front of the Dean’s door and turned to

look at Pest.

“Got all your ducks in a row, Pest? And what name are you going to use? I can’t see Dr

Kakkar calling you Dr Pest or anything like that.”

“My name is Dr Aldo Bianchi, and I’m a third-generation Italian-American with strong

ties to my ancestral land.”

“Okay then. Here we go.”

Bart opened the door and entered the outer office. Dean Kakkar’s secretary glanced up

from where she sat. She broke into a bright smile as she saw Bart walk in.

“Dr Winston, it’s wonderful to see you again. We were afraid you were lost forever.”

The friendly greeting shocked Bart slightly. He didn’t expect anyone, besides Kerry, to

be happy about him coming back. Not that they would have thrown him out or anything, but

he certainly didn’t think his absence would have been noticed for more than a month, once

they got someone to take over his classes.

“Thank you, Ms Nielson. I believe Dr Kakkar is expecting Dr Bianchi and me.”

“Of course, let me check and make sure he’s ready for you.”

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He nodded and sat in one of the chairs, while Pest stood next to him. He threaded his

fingers together to keep from drumming them against the arm of the chair. His anxiety

ricocheted through his body, nerves sparking when he wondered what Dr Kakkar was going

to say.

“Dr Winston, Dr Kakkar will see you and Dr Bianchi now.” Ms Nielson smiled and

nodded.

“Thank you.”

He held open the door, letting Pest walk in first. Bart shut the door behind him and

stood to the side, watching the meeting between the two men.

“Dr Kakkar, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve read several of your papers on

evolutionary biology in Patagonia. Brilliant.”

Pest held out his hand and Bart saw Dr Kakkar blink at Pest’s direct approach. He hid

his smile when Kakkar shook Pest’s hand.

“Nice to meet you as well, Dr Bianchi. I have to admit I was a little surprised when you

contacted me. From what I was led to believe, you rarely leave your home in Brazil.” Kakkar

waved a hand for them to take a seat. “Dr Winston, it’s marvellous to see you again. When

Dr Jones returned and said you’d been lost, we were very upset. A search was launched, but

I’m afraid nothing turned up. Of course, you know that.”

“Dr Kakkar.” Bart shook the dean’s hand before sitting in the chair next to Pest. “We’ll

have to talk about that, but later. I do believe Dr Bianchi is very intrigued with the virus Dr

Jones and the others seem to have brought back with them.”

“Oh yes. Terrible thing. We’ve sent out notifications to all the cities they passed

through, letting them know the possibility of exposure. So far we’ve been lucky and it

sounds like no one else has been infected. You’ll have to get more details from the CDC

doctors. I’ve taken the liberty and contacted them for you.”

“That was very kind of you.” Pest nodded. “I hope they’ll be willing to let me come and

examine the patients. In addition, I’d like for them to give Dr Winston a check-up.”

Bart bit his lip to keep from protesting. He didn’t need strangers looking him over like

he was some kind of science experiment. Kakkar looked confused.

“Why would they want to do that?”

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“I have the feeling he survived the same virus his fellow expedition members are

dealing with now. I have some herbs I used to help keep his fevers down and stop the

convulsions when his body temperature got too high. After taking care of Dr Winston, I’m

led to believe it’s the fever that’s the deadliest part of this disease. As I’m sure you’re aware,

a sustained fever of one hundred and three degrees can pose a threat for brain damage and

worse.” Pest set his briefcase on his knees and opened it. Shuffling through papers, he pulled

several out. “Here are my notes. I’ve made several copies for all the pertinent people

involved.”

Dr Kakkar’s eyes lit up and he eagerly took the papers from Pest. “The CDC

quarantined all four men at Walter Reed in Washington. It was the best place for them until

they could figure out what might work. If you want to go down there today, I’ll call Dr

Darvi, the head of the case, and let him know you’re on your way. I’m sure he’ll be interested

in your opinion.”

Pest stood and Bart joined him. They shook hands with Kakkar.

“Thank you for contacting Darvi for me, Dr Kakkar. I’ve actually have done some

consultation work with the man. He’s very talented and dedicated.”

“Thank you for stopping by, Dr Bianchi. If you come back to Harvard, I would love to

have dinner and talk about some of your findings.” Kakkar looked over at Bart. “Dr Winston,

when you get back from Washington, I’d like to hear about your expedition. Dr Jones didn’t

have time to give me much information about whether you actually achieved your goal.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll call as soon as I get back.”

After saying goodbye to Ms Nielson, they went outside and Bart sank to sit on a bench.

He braced his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. Pest rested a hand on his

shoulder and squeezed before pulling out a cell phone and dialling.

“Yes, I need to purchase two plane tickets to Washington D.C., preferably for today.”

Bart closed his eyes and listened to Pest making plans for them to get to the airport by

five that day. Pest hung up and sat next to him.

“You took notes on me while I was sick,” Bart commented.

“Uh-huh. I did because that’s who I am, Bart. While I might be something more than a

doctor now, I was a doctor to begin with. I can’t take that part of my personality out.” Pest

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bumped their shoulders together. “Besides, my notes might be able to help them with the

case. Who knows? A cure or a vaccination might be figured out.”

“You didn’t find a cure for me,” Bart pointed out.

“True, but something tells me the best thing the men of your expedition did for you was

abandon you. I still haven’t figured out why you didn’t get as sick as they seem to be. Maybe

it was the heat and humidity of the rainforest. It’s possible the herbs I had Lam start giving

you helped stop the virus in its tracks. You were sick enough for the fever, but you didn’t get

the boils or other things.”

“Why didn’t I?”

Pest sighed. “I don’t know why. All I know is that you weren’t going to die on me. No

matter what Death said, I wasn’t going to let you die, and Lam made a promise to me. He

can’t break his promises, not even to me.”

“Sounds like that sucks. Why can’t he break a promise?”

“He can’t lie either.”

Bart eyed Pest and asked, “Why not?”

Pest bit his lip and stared off towards the quad where students gathered. Bart could

almost feel him fighting with himself on what to tell Bart.

“I can’t tell you,” Pest finally said.

“Jesus! I swear you’re trying to annoy the shit out of me.” Bart shot to his feet and

stalked a few feet away.

“Wait, Bart,” Pest called out, but Bart didn’t look back.

“Why won’t you just tell me? Don’t you trust me?”

Pest grabbed his shoulder and turned him around to face him. “It has nothing to do

with trusting you or not. These aren’t just my secrets to tell. They affect others as well, and I

can’t talk. In addition, you don’t believe me. I know you think I’m completely crazy when I

talk about the village I lived in, or all the things I’ve done throughout my life.”

Checking his watch, Pest shook his head. “I can’t say anything right now. We need to

get some clothes and head to Boston to catch a flight down to Washington.”

“Fine.”

He didn’t really want to agree to Pest’s suggestion, but he understood they didn’t have

time to waste if they were to get to Washington as soon as possible. He went to the kerb and

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flagged down a cab. After climbing in, he gave the driver his address and kept his gaze

focused out the window. Bart didn’t feel like talking to Pest.

As they rode in a thick air of silence, Bart wondered why learning the truth about Pest

mattered so much to him. It wasn’t like they’d known each other forever, or even made a

commitment to stay together after all this shit got straightened out. Yet, ever since he had

fallen into Pest’s arms in the clearing, his heart seemed determined to make a play for the

man.

Bart admitted he wanted to fuck Pest in the worst way. He wanted his cock buried so

deep inside Pest, he wouldn’t know where Pest began and he ended. He was sure Pest would

be hot and tight around his prick. He shifted in his seat when his erection pressed against his

zipper. Pest inhaled, and Bart waited for him to say something, but the other man stayed

quiet like he knew Bart would jump all over anything he said.

The cab pulled up in front of Bart’s condo and Pest paid the man while Bart climbed

out. While Pest packed his clothes, Bart called Kerry.

“Hey man, what’s up?”

“We need a ride to the airport. We have to get down to D.C. a.s.a.p.” Bart turned to see

Pest leaning against the wall, staring out the window.

“No problem. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” Kerry hung up.

Bart tucked his phone in his pocket and went to pack his own bag. He carried it out into

the living room and sat on the couch. Pest had his pouches sitting on the floor next to his

own suitcase.

“What’s in the pouches anyway?”

“Some herbs I used on you while you were ill. I’m hoping they’ll help the others.” Pest

looked at him with a smile.

“How are you going to get your pouches to Washington without security taking them

at the airport? I’m pretty sure they’ll think they’re some kind of drug.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of that.” Pest didn’t turn to look at him, just kept

staring out the window.

“Fine. I assume it’s going to be the same way we got from Brazil to here,” Bart

muttered.

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“Yes, it’s the same way. I’ve already told you all this, yet you keep asking me questions

like my answers are going to change. I’m doing my best to be honest with you.” Pest’s back

tensed. “Why should I risk everything for you? Why can’t you let well enough alone and

ignore what you don’t understand?”

“I wouldn’t be a very good teacher or scientist if I did that. How can I learn anything if I

don’t ask about it?” Bart clenched his hands. “Besides it’s not like you’ve been a font of

information about things anyway.”

“I told you it isn’t just my story to tell. Others have been a part of it since I became what

I am.”

“And what is that? All you’ve said is you were a doctor during the Bubonic Plague

outbreak in the 1300s. I’m assuming by your name you were Italian, or is that not your real

name?”

He gasped as Pest grabbed his shirt and yanked him to his feet.

“Aldo Bianchi is my real name. It’s the only thing beside this locket I’ve been allowed to

keep since I killed myself all those centuries ago. You don’t get to question that.”

“Okay. I’m sorry.” Bart held up his hands in surrender.

Letting go of him, Pest took a deep breath before strolling past him towards the door.

“Kerry’s here. We need to go.”

Bart grabbed his carry-on and stalked out the door. He raced down the stairs and burst

out onto the sidewalk. Anger simmered under his skin like he was on fire. He couldn’t tell if

his fever had returned or if he really was that angry.

“I’ll ride in the back. You can sit up front and talk to Kerry,” Pest said. “Here.”

He handed Bart a travel mug of tea before he slipped into the backseat. Bart took it

without arguing because he knew it would help with the fever. As frustrated as he was with

Pest, he knew the man wouldn’t do anything to set back his recovery. He settled into the

passenger seat and nodded at Kerry.

His friend chatted non-stop the entire way to the airport. Bart appreciated Kerry’s

apparent disinterest in anyone else talking because Bart didn’t know what he would say, and

he was afraid he’d start yelling at Pest. The issues going on between them were personal and

Kerry didn’t deserve to get stuck in the middle. Bart could wait until they got to the hotel

before he forced Pest to talk to him.

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After getting to the airport and getting in line, Pest crouched down and opened his

briefcase. Bart frowned when he realised Pest didn’t have the pouches of herbs.

“I forgot to give these to you back at the apartment. You’re going to need them.”

Taking the packet from Pest, he asked, “Where are the pouches?”

“I told you not to worry about those. They’ll probably be waiting for us when we get to

D.C.” Pest stood and stepped up to the counter, handing the lady his passport.

Bart looked through the packet, his jaw dropping when he saw his passport, money,

and driver’s licence in there. “What the hell?”

How did Pest get his identification, considering Bart didn’t even know where they had

gone after Jasper left with them? He handed his licence to the airline lady, but glared at Pest,

whose calm blank gaze irritated Bart even more. Mark one more thing they would be

discussing later on.

He sat close to the boarding door and dug through his packet. All his other papers

taken when the others left him behind. How had Pest done that?

“Oh these are yours as well.”

Looking over, he saw Pest holding out his research notebooks. He took them and let

them drop in his lap.

“How the hell did you do this? I would have thought Jasper had them and would have

used them as his own.” Bart ran his hand over the covers.

“He did have them, but we were able to relieve him of them. Or at least Death was able

to get a hold of them. Don’t ask me how he did it. At times, it’s better not to question Death

when he does things. Dr Jones might not have gotten the chance to do so, and now that you

have them, he won’t be. Dr Jones probably won’t need them anyway. If we save him, you can

consult with him on the paper you’re going to be writing.” Pest glanced up when their flight

was announced. “We should go.”

“We’re going first class?” Bart gathered his stuff and got his boarding pass ready.

“When I have to travel like a mortal, I chose to do so in comfort. Coach isn’t very

comfortable.”

Something in Pest’s tone alerted Bart to the fact the man wasn’t being arrogant or

snobby about flying first class. The airline person swiped his boarding pass and he followed

the flow of well-dressed businessmen. They got to their seats and settled in. The flight

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attendant came by to ask if they wanted something to drink. He requested water and Pest

didn’t want anything.

Bart bumped Pest’s shoulder with his. “Something tells me you’re only travelling this

way because of me.”

Pest’s smile was enigmatic. “You could be right.”

“If I wasn’t with you, would you use your horse to travel from here to Washington?”

He kept his voice low, not wanting to give any of the other passengers a chance to eavesdrop.

“Yes.”

Pest rested his head back on the seat. Bart had got used to Pest’s sunglasses covering his

unusual eyes.

“Is it annoying to wear those glasses all the time?” Bart nodded his thanks to the

attendant for the bottle of water.

“At times, but it’s better than having to deal with people’s reaction to my eyes. When I

must remove them, I tell people it’s a genetic mutation and most leave me alone after that.”

Pest yawned. “I’m going to try and get some sleep. Why do you refresh your memory on

what you found in the Basin? Dr Kakkar will want to hear all about it when you get back

from D.C.”

“Are you sure?”

Pest twisted slightly to look at Bart. “Am I sure about what?”

“That Kakkar will want to know what I found in the Amazon? That you’ll be able to

cure Jasper and the others?” It was Bart’s turn to shrug. “Are you sure about anything?”

The smile he received from Pest was tender and full of understanding. “I’m sure

Kakkar will want to know your news. It’s very intriguing and could possibly be a totally new

discovery. As for curing Dr Jones and the others, I can’t be sure of that at all. Only God

knows for sure whether it’s their turn to die or not. To be honest, once I stopped practising

medicine, I stopped trying to heal people. The urge has always been there, but you are the

first one I actively tried to help. Obviously there’s something about you that touches me.”

Bart inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement of Pest’s statements.

“As for being sure about anything, yes, I am sure tonight you will discover there are

more things in the world than you ever believed possible. I’m not sure you’re ready to find

those things out though.” Pest inhaled and tapped Bart’s hand with his fingers. “Try to rest. I

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called Dr Darvi. He might have someone waiting for us at the airport, and we might not get

to the hotel until late tonight.”

“I guess you’re right.” He blinked and realised his fever had disappeared. “The tea

worked.”

“It always does. I’ve studied those particular plants for decades and they’re very

powerful, plus the natives use them on themselves or so they told me. Now you should close

your eyes and try to sleep. The attendants will wake us up when we land.”

Bart took Pest’s advice. The tea helped soften the raging questions running through his

head and allowed him to fall asleep quickly. The last thing he remembered was Pest covering

him with a blanket so he didn’t get cold during the flight.

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Chapter Seven

Pest stretched and glanced over to where Bart still napped. They were about ten

minutes out of Ronald Reagan airport and he should wake the man up, but he loved

watching him while he slept. All of Bart’s walls and defences were down, plus he didn’t stare

at Pest with a barely hidden look of distrust. Pest shook his head. It wasn’t distrust really,

more like disbelief.

With a mental sigh, Pest reached over and touched Bart’s shoulder, giving him a little

shake. “Bart, you need to wake up.”

Bart stirred, mumbling something under his breath.

“What?” Pest leant forward, close enough to feel Bart’s breath brush his ear.

“Is Aldo Bianchi really your name?”

Sitting back in surprise, Pest met Bart’s sleep-filled eyes. There wasn’t any accusation or

doubt in Bart’s gaze. The man seemed to simply be wondering out loud. Pest slowly nodded

his head.

“We went over this already. It was once, but I rarely use it anymore. I am Pestilence

now, and will remain so until the world comes to an end. I doubt I’ll ever be lucky enough to

have someone take my place.”

Bart blinked and seemed a little surprised at the soft confession, considering how Pest

had reacted the first time he asked, but Bart didn’t say anything else. He handed his blanket

to Pest who folded it and they finished preparing to land. Pest set his briefcase on his lap and

drummed his fingers on the leather. The sound was muffed because of two layers of leather.

When they landed, and the door opened, Pest exited the plane with Bart right behind

him.

One step from the gate and a man approached them.

“Dr Aldo Bianchi? Dr Bartholomew Winston?”

Pest inclined his head, but didn’t offer to shake the man’s hand. “Yes. I’m Dr Bianchi.

This is Dr Winston.”

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“Dr Darvi sent me. He hoped you wouldn’t be too fatigued from your flight and would

be willing to come directly to Walter Reed. He’s very interested in meeting both of you.”

A sour smell drifted on the air from the man towards Pest. He wrinkled his nose and a

memory hit his brain. Bart had the same smell when he fell into Pest’s arms the first time

they met. Fuck! It meant this man was infected with the virus and could possibly be

spreading it to the other people around him.

Pest reached into his pocket and pulled out another pair of gloves. He handed them to

Bart. “Put these on and make sure this man doesn’t touch anything else.”

“Why?”

It made Pest happy to see Bart tugging on the gloves without any real argument, even

while he enquired about Pest’s reasoning. Pest stepped a few inches closer to Bart and leant

down.

“I think he might be infected with whatever you and the others got. He smells the

same.”

“How are we going to get him out of here without endangering everyone even more?”

Bart shot a quick glance around them, but didn’t show any signs of panicking.

“I have an idea, but you have to accept it without asking any questions until we get

out.”

“Fine. I’ll just add it to the list of questions I have for you.”

Pest jerked his head once and reached out to grab the driver’s arm before taking Bart’s

hand in his. What he planned on doing would take energy and would probably shock Bart

almost to the point of rage, but Pest didn’t have any other idea how to keep the driver from

spreading the virus further. Death was going to have his head for this.

“Pestilence, don’t do it.”

“Sorry, comrade. I have no choice.”

Closing his eyes, he swept the driver’s mind for where he’d left the car. It was one of

the few times Pest was happy about the ability to read minds. Most of the time, he didn’t use

it, seeing the power as an invasion of privacy. Pest fixed those directions in his mind and

focused his power. A sudden jerk and complete blackness engulfed them for a minute, than

they stumbled as their feet hit concrete. He opened his eyes to find them stood beside the car.

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Bart stared around them with wide-eyed surprise before shooting Pest a suspicious

look. Pest shrugged and turned to the driver who hadn’t opened his eyes. A tiny tap to the

man’s forehead and he collapsed.

“Shit. What the hell did you do to him?” Bart rushed to catch him.

“Just put him to sleep.” Pest opened the back door and gestured for Bart to slide the

man in. “I’ll give you a mask. Put it on him and get him inside. He’ll be out until we get to

the hospital.”

“Why did you do this?”

“I couldn’t take a chance he would panic and run away, spreading the virus throughout

the entire airport. It’s bad enough no one caught the fact he was sick before they sent him.”

Pest dug out a mask to put over the man’s mouth.

Bart studied him. “Should I be worried about catching it?”

Pest shook his head. “I don’t think you’ll get it again. You aren’t completely cured. Your

fever still spikes and my gut tells me you’ll always be dealing with it.”

“Okay. You ride in back with him. I don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve driven

anywhere.” Bart waved a hand towards the backseat.

“I don’t know how to drive. I never had to learn.” Pest grinned as he climbed into the

back of the car. He tossed the keys to Bart. “I hope you know how to get to Walter Reed.”

“There’s a GPS in here. I can figure it out.”

Bart shut the door and went around to the driver’s side. Pest made the other man as

comfortable as possible while Bart fiddled with the GPS to get directions to the hospital.

Once they were on their way, Pest pulled out his phone and dialled Dr Darvi’s number.

“Dr Darvi speaking.”

“Dr Darvi, this is Dr Bianchi. I have some bad news for you.”

“Please tell me your flight landed all right and you’ll still be coming to the hospital.”

Darvi sounded worried Pest wouldn’t be showing up.

“Yes. All that’s fine, but the driver you sent to pick Dr Winston and me up is sick. I’m

afraid he might have caught the same thing as the other gentlemen.” Pest leant over the man

again and inhaled deeply.

The same putrid scent wafted from the man and Pest grimaced. He’d smelt worse from

dead bodies during the plague, along with other epidemics he’d caused through the

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centuries. Yet he never really got over how terrible the smell was. It spoke of rotting and

death, but Bart had survived and Pest hoped he could keep the others alive as well.

“Are you sure?” Darvi sounded horrified.

“As sure as I can be without any tests. Trust me, I know the subtle signs of the disease. I

don’t think he’s got to the second stage of it yet. He doesn’t seem to be running a fever.” Pest

swore silently. He should’ve had Bart check before he started driving.

“How far away from the hospital are you?”

“Bart, how far away does the GPS say we are,” Pest asked, holding his phone out in

Bart’s direction.

“Twenty minutes if we don’t hit heavy traffic.”

Pest brought the phone back to his ear. “Did you get that, Doctor?”

“Yes. I’ll make arrangements in the quarantine ward. Also, when you get to the security

checkpoint, they’ll give you directions to the back entrance of the ward. We’ll minimise the

exposure of anyone else.” Darvi muttered something else, but Pest didn’t pay any attention

to that.

He watched as foam formed on the corners of the man’s mouth and he went into

convulsions.

“Shit!” Pest flung himself over the man’s body, trying to keep him from hurting

himself.

“What’s wrong, Dr Bianchi?”

“He’s convulsing. The illness must be progressing faster than I thought. I have to go,

Darvi. We’ll be arriving shortly.” He punched the off button and hung up on the doctor. He

let it drop to the floor while he struggled to keep the patient from flailing around.

Bart shot a quick glance over his shoulder, giving Pest a look at his scared eyes. “Do

you need me to stop and help you?”

“No. Just drive. You can’t do anything for him. We need to get him to Walter Reed

before he gets worse.”

“When I went into convulsions, didn’t you give me morphine and some kind of herb?”

Pest resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Yes, I did, but as you can see, I don’t have any of

that stuff with me at the moment. I don’t usually carry morphine around in my briefcase. My

pouches have probably arrived at the hospital by now.”

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“So when we get there, you can brew him some tea and help him, right?”

“I doubt it, Bart. Dr Darvi isn’t going to let me give this man or any of the other patients

unknown herbs. It doesn’t matter if I am a world-renowned authority on infectious diseases.

These men are his responsibility and he won’t risk their lives on something he doesn’t know

and hasn’t been tested.”

Bart grunted and Pest didn’t know if it was because he agreed with Pest or because he

thought Darvi was an idiot. Pest didn’t really care either way at the moment. Trusting Bart to

get them to the hospital in one piece, he brought all his strength to bear and held the driver

through his convulsions.

“Why can’t you just knock him out like Death did me?”

“That ability isn’t one of my powers, plus the virus isn’t allowing his body to accept the

spell.” Pest dug around his pocket and pulled out his wallet, shoving it between the man’s

teeth. “All I can do is keep him from hurting himself and hope his body gives out and forces

him to lose consciousness.”

By the time they pulled up to the security gate, the man had passed out because of the

strain and Pest leant back in the seat to take a deep breath and try to ease his own shaking

limbs.

“Just another five minutes or so,” Bart said as he rolled up the window and drove

through the entrance gate. “Dr Darvi will have everything ready for us.”

“Good. I’m worried this virus has mutated now that it’s out of the rainforest. His

convulsions came on a lot faster than yours.”

Bart shrugged, keeping his eyes on the driveway in front of him. “It’s possible, but also,

the herbs and things you had Lam give me could have slowed the progression down

slightly.”

Pest stared out the window as he thought about Bart’s suggestion. It was possible the

herbs worked on slowing the disease. The other possibility was simply Lam’s presence kept

Bart from getting as sick as fast as the rest. Damn. There was no way of knowing what kind

of interference Lam had caused while he took care of Bart. Not that Pest would’ve wanted it

any other way. It just made it difficult to know for sure whether the herbs worked or not.

“I might have screwed up,” he admitted, loud enough for Bart to hear.

“Screwed up? How?” Bart pulled to a stop in the back of some building.

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Before Pest could answer, the back door jerked open and several people reached in,

grabbing the unconscious man. They pulled him out and placed him on a gurney, rushing

him into the building while Bart and Pest climbed out of the car.

Only one person was left to greet them. A petite woman smiled at them, her face grim.

She didn’t hold out her hand, obviously not wanting to risk getting contaminated herself.

“I’m Dr Taylor MacLachlan, Dr Darvi’s assistant. I will show you to the

decontamination room where you can remove those clothes. I’m afraid we’ll have to burn

them along with your sunglasses and briefcase.”

Pest didn’t say anything as she led the way in the other direction to where the mob of

people had raced. Bart bumped him with his elbow and when he looked, Bart raised his

eyebrows in question.

Shrugging, Pest didn’t want to say anything until he knew they were alone. It didn’t

matter to him if they had to burn his clothes. The thought made him remember.

“Our bags are in the trunk of the car. We’ll need someone to bring them to us.”

“Of course. I’ll make sure that happens, but you’ll be putting on scrubs to go into the

quarantine ward.”

Bart stumbled into him, “At what point did our bags get in the trunk?”

“Not now, Bart. We’ll discuss all of that when we’re alone.”

Pest noticed Bart’s jaw tighten. It was obvious Bart wasn’t happy with no answers, but

Pest wasn’t going to risk MacLachlan overhearing anything he had to say. It was bad enough

he broke every rule by telling Bart about his past. He didn’t want anyone else listening in

while he talked about what he’d done.

“Here we go.” She opened the office and gestured to another door just inside. “The

showers are in there. Take all your clothes off and leave everything here. One of the

employees will collect them to be burnt. When you’re finished, there will be someone waiting

outside in the hallway to bring you to Dr Darvi.”

“Thank you, Dr MacLachlan. We’ll be thorough, but quick.”

She nodded and practically sprinted away. Pest chuckled as he looked at Bart.

“Guess she drew the short straw and had to be the one to greet us.”

“Looks like it.” Bart paused and looked like he wanted to ask something.

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Pest lifted Bart’s chin. “I promised you when we were alone in the hotel room, I would

tell you everything. I meant it, but I can’t say anything right now. Too many ears around to

hear, and while I might be willing to risk everything for you, I’m not willing to do so for the

others.”

He hoped Bart could hear the sincerity in his voice. Bart nodded slowly.

“Good. Now we have to hurry and get cleaned up.”

The urgency of the moment made it easier for him to ignore the gloriousness of Bart’s

body, but his cock still stiffened at the sight of all that naked skin. Snorting silently, Pest

climbed into the decontamination shower and turned it on, letting the water beat down on

him. He scrubbed and got as clean as he could possibly get.

While Bart and he couldn’t get sick again, it stood to reason others who came in contact

with them or their clothes could catch the virus, which was why they had to burn the clothes.

As he dried off, he used some of his power to conjure up a new briefcase and

transferred his papers into it. Their scrubs waited for them in the changing room and he

slipped into a set. He adjusted his new set of sunglasses as Bart emerged from his shower.

Bart nudged his briefcase as he went by.

“Didn’t they need to burn that?”

“It’s a new one. I couldn’t take the risk of my papers getting lost or burnt.” He should

have known Bart wouldn’t ignore the rather suspicious appearance of another case.

“How the hell did you manage to get a new briefcase?” Bart shook his head. “Forget I

asked. Just another mystery where you’re concerned.”

After putting on his gloves, Pest rested a shoulder against the doorframe. He watched

Bart get dressed, admiring the curve of the man’s ass and the thickness of his cock.

“Quit staring at me,” Bart grumbled as he dressed.

“Can’t help it really. When there’s all that gorgeous skin on display, I just have to look.”

He shrugged his shoulders helplessly and winked.

“Whatever. Let’s go.”

They left the office and a young man straightened from where he rested against the

wall. He was dressed in scrubs and a lab coat.

“Dr MacLachlan told me to escort you to the ward. I thought you were supposed to

leave that behind.” The young man gestured towards Pest’s briefcase.

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“It’s a new one. I had an extra one with my stuff.”

“I don’t remember bringing that with your bags.”

Shrugging, Pest chose to move on to a different subject. He didn’t want their escort

dwelling on where the briefcase came from. “I’d like to get to Dr Darvi as soon as possible.”

“Yes, sir.”

The young man whirled around and strolled back in the direction they’d come from.

Pest and Bart followed him without talking. Pest’s mind raced as he realised he might not be

able to save the men. He should have taken into consideration the fact Lam’s presence would

have slowed Bart’s symptoms enough for him not to exhibit the same degree of illness the

others in his expedition were. It wasn’t often a mortal spent any sort of time in the company

of an angel, and even a messenger angel had a unique ability to heal humans.

They went through several locked doors and finally ended in a room where haz-mat

suits lined the walls.

“You’ll need to put one of those on, plus masks and gloves. Also, you’ll need to put

these booties over your shoes.”

Pest didn’t need any help getting dressed. He’d done this routine several times during

his long life, or he had once the suits and protocols were developed for trying to stop

infectious diseases from spreading on the occasionally cases when he was asked to consult to

find an alternate means of curing the diseased. Once dressed, he stood and watched Bart

settle the mask over his mouth.

“We’re ready.” Pest left his briefcase in the room. He didn’t need it to examine the

patients.

“Wouldn’t you see better without the sunglasses?” the man asked before he opened the

door to the patient’s ward.

“Whether I would see better or not is for me to say, young man, not you.” Pest spoke in

his haughtiest tone. It didn’t pay to allow them to think they could ask him any question and

he would answer.

“Of course, sir.”

Bart rolled his eyes, but again kept his mouth shut, which made Pest happy. He didn’t

need Bart undermining his authority either.

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“It’s about time you got a taste of your own medicine.” Death’s slightly amused voice

danced through his mind.

He chose to ignore it, wanting to keep his mind in the game instead of letting anyone

annoy him. He didn’t want to miss even the smallest clue, especially if it meant life or death.

The other man swiped his card through the secure lock and the door opened with a

hiss. Pest spotted a group of four people surrounding one of the beds. In between elbows and

hips, Pest noticed the person in the bed was their driver. He was pale, yet there seemed to be

an angry rash appearing on the man’s skin right before their eyes.

Bart gasped. “Jasper.”

Pest turned to see Bart race to the side of the closest bed. He strolled over, not sure if he

wanted to meet the man who so coldly abandoned his lover. Looking around Bart’s shoulder,

Pest cringed as he took in the wasted form lying still under the sheets.

Boils and lesions covered almost all of his skin. Jasper sweated, but his body trembled

from chills. Even though Pest didn’t know what Jasper had looked like before, he could tell

the virus had taken a huge toll on Bart’s former lover.

“At times it seems karma really is a bitch.”

He agreed with Death’s comment. Bart reached out to touch Jasper’s shoulder, but

paused a few inches away. Bart turned to look at Pest.

“I don’t know where to touch him without causing him pain,” Bart admitted.

Pest shrugged. “I don’t think you should be touching him at all.”

“But look at him, Pest. I know I should be pissed because he left me behind, yet he looks

terrible and I can’t help thinking I’d be just like him if he had taken me with him. Maybe it

was fate that he abandoned me. I might not be alive today.”

“Yes, I think you’re right. As much as I annoy you with my secrets, falling into my arms

was the best thing to happen to you in a long time.” Pest stepped up next to Bart and met the

foggy blue eyes of the man in the bed. “He’s awake, Bart.”

Bart turned his gaze back to Jasper’s. “You look like shit.”

Jasper blinked. “Bart?”

Pest winced at the gargling-with-glass sound of Jasper’s voice. “Why don’t you talk to

him while I go find Dr Darvi?”

Bart nodded, but didn’t look at Pest when he touched him on his shoulder.

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“How did you get here?”

It was the last question Pest heard before he moved out of earshot. As he headed

towards the group still surrounding the driver, he wondered what would happen now Bart

had seen Jasper again. Would Bart choose to go back to Jasper and stand beside him while he

fought this deadly virus? Pest wouldn’t be surprised if that happened, no matter what Bart

thought he felt for Pest.

A slender form broke from the group and approached Pest. He studied the darker

skinned man walking up to him.

“Dr Darvi?”

“Yes, and you would be Dr Aldo Bianchi. I’m glad you’re willing to give us the gift of

your knowledge. We’re starting to feel like we’re in over our heads.”

“I’m sure all doctors who fight epidemics feel the same way you do. I’m not sure how

much help I can be, but I’ll do what I can.” Pest gestured back towards Bart. “I would

suggest you take some blood samples from Dr Winston. He was on the same expedition as

the four men who presented the first symptoms and are probably patient zeroes for your

outbreak.”

“Really?” Darvi’s gaze shot to where Bart stood, excitement and disbelief battling in his

eyes. “He looks fine.”

“I know. When I found him, he was burning up with the fever. During the months I

had him in my care, he never had the boils or lesions these gentlemen have. He had

convulsions when the fever got dangerously high. I have all my notes from his care with

me.”

Darvi started to rush over to Bart, but Pest grabbed his arm and stopped him short.

“Don’t run roughshod over him. He’s still gets a fever, though at times, it seems

dormant, almost like malaria. Yet when he gets overly excited or exhausted, it spikes. I’ve

worked too hard on getting him well, I don’t want you to ruin it by upsetting him.” Pest

strolled back towards Bart. “I’ll talk to him first.”

Bart acknowledged Pest’s presence with a slight nod, but he didn’t look away from

Jasper.

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“Dr Winston, Dr Darvi would like to run some tests and draw some blood. We have to

figure out why you managed to survive with very little harm being done to you. Plus there

might be something Darvi can use to help the others.”

“Of course, I understand.”

Bart straightened and turned to finally look at Pest. The gratitude in Bart’s eyes

surprised him.

“Thank you,” Bart whispered.

Pest nodded, knowing the thanks came from the fact his care kept Bart from suffering

as much as the others had. Pest sent up his own small prayer that Bart fell into his arms on

that day.

“Dr Darvi, this is Dr Bartholomew Winston.”

They shook hands and Darvi hesitated for a moment.

“Where do you want me to go to give some blood? I’m exhausted at the moment, so

maybe we could start the other tests tomorrow.”

Darvi nodded, quite happy not to have to force Bart into the tests. “Certainly, Dr

Winston. I understand it’s been a rather long day for you. You just arrived in country from

Brazil as well. We have a suite arranged for you at the closest hotel, though I’m wondering if

we all shouldn’t stay at the hospital. Your driver is the first new case we’ve had since these

four presented with the symptoms. The CDC has been keeping an eye on all the cities the

men passed through on their travels. So far there haven’t been any cases reported.”

The doctor waved a hand at Dr MacLachlan. “Can you draw several vials of blood from

Dr Winston?”

Her eyes widened as she joined them. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to our lab.”

Bart looked at Pest and he smiled at the man, trying to encourage him.

“I’ll stay here and talk to the doctor while you get the blood taken. Then we’ll head to

the hotel and get some rest.”

He watched Bart leave the room and only after the door closed behind him did Pest

turn back to Darvi. “I’d like to examine the patients while I wait for Dr Winston.”

“Yes, sir.”

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Darvi gestured to Jasper. “Dr Jasper Jones was the first to exhibit symptoms. He’s in

what we think is the advanced stages of the illness, though aside from boils, lesions and the

fever, no other symptoms have manifested.”

“Hello, Dr Jones, my name is Dr Aldo Bianchi. I’m going to examine you. I might be

able to help you.”

“Bart said you healed him,” Jasper croaked out.

“I did, and you need to stay quiet. It isn’t good for you to stress your body out any

more than need be.”

While the statement might be true, mostly Pest simply didn’t want to chat with Bart’s

ex-lover. He didn’t think he’d have anything good to say to the man who abandoned a sick

person in the jungle. Though he had to be fair, Jasper might not have known Bart was ill. Of

course, then it just made Jasper look like a complete asshole for dumping his lover in a jungle

where he couldn’t fend for himself.

Pest pushed all those thoughts from his mind and focused on going over every inch of

Jasper’s body and his charts. He wouldn’t formulate any opinions until he’d looked at the

other three men.

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Chapter Eight

Bart held out his arm for MacLachlan to wrap the tubing around. She didn’t seem

interested in talking, just doing her job. He wanted to ask questions about Jasper and the

others, but something told him she wouldn’t say anything to him.

“I think having Dr Bianchi here will be helpful in trying to figure out what virus the

others brought back with them.”

“Possibly.” She shrugged and tapped the vein before pressing the needle into his arm.

“He is an expert in his field,” Bart couldn’t help but point out.

“And so is Dr Darvi. So is everyone on this team.”

She didn’t sound like she was happy to have them barge in, though Bart wasn’t trying

to muscle in on her glory. He just wanted to keep other people from falling ill. He should

have known better than to go into the rainforest and look for undiscovered animals or plants.

Trying to become famous in the scientific world could lead to his fellow expedition members

dying.

“Sorry.”

“I guess we should welcome all the help we can get, so this doesn’t spread beyond the

core group.” She filled one vial and handed it to him while attaching a second vial to the

syringe.

He nodded and gave the tube back to MacLachlan when she reached for it. She put a

Band-aid over the needle mark. Bart leant back in his chair and closed his eyes with a sigh.

“How sick were you really?” The disbelief in her voice irritated him.

“You don’t believe I was sick at all, do you?” He opened his eyes and met her sceptical

gaze. “Why? Because I don’t have boils or lesions? Because you haven’t managed to cure

these men yet, so a man living in the Amazon rainforest shouldn’t have been able to do it

with his primitive medicine and herbs?”

MacLachlan pursed her lips and eyed him. “Let’s just say I need to be convinced you

were sick.”

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“I guess I can’t fault you for that. You wouldn’t be doing your job if you believed

everything everyone told you.” Bart stood slowly, his head buzzing slightly, and he inhaled

sharply as it felt like his body was on fire again. “Shit. My fever’s spiking again. I need to get

to the hotel and rest.”

Without saying anything else, he stood and walked back into the ward. Pest turned to

look at him and immediately knew what was wrong. The white-haired man touched Darvi’s

arm, nodding towards Bart before meeting him in the middle of the room.

“We’re taking the car to the hotel. It’s just down the block from here. Darvi had it

cleaned and sterilised for us.” Pest touched Bart’s arm. “Our bags are back in the trunk and

my pouches should be there as well.”

“Pouches? What are you talking about?” Darvi looked between the two of them.

“I brought several different herbs and plants I’ve been using to help keep Dr Winston’s

fever down, plus I believe it helped keep his illness from getting as bad as the others. Also, I

talked to one of the local shaman and he told me his tribe have been using these plants for

centuries to combat what sounds like this particular virus.” Pest led the way out of the ward

to where they changed into new scrubs.

“I’ll welcome any kind of help I can get. I’m not convinced natural medicines can help,

but I’d like to get samples of those to see if we can distil some sort of compound or chemical

that might help us develop a medicine for it.”

“Of course, I’ll bring some over tomorrow when we come back in the morning.” Pest

stripped, not seeming to care that Darvi watched them. “Right now, Dr Winston needs to go

and lie down.”

Darvi didn’t protest as they left, and Bart appreciated the fact Pest didn’t linger. They

climbed into the car and Pest drove while Bart leaned his head against the passenger side

window.

“I’m getting sick of this,” Bart groused.

“I know, but I think you’re getting better. The fever doesn’t come as often or stay as

long as it did in the beginning. The last batch of tea I made for you wasn’t nearly as strong as

it had been. I’ve slowly been weaning you off it.” Pest lifted a shoulder when Bart looked at

him. “I can’t be sure they aren’t addictive in some way. I don’t want you to crave them.”

“Thanks for looking out for me.”

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“Least I can do.” Pest shrugged.

“I’m hungry as well.”

Pest drove into the parking lot of the hotel and stopped the car. “I’ll order room service

while you take a shower and change into sweats. Take a cool shower and it might help you

feel better.”

After grabbing their bags and Pest’s pouches, they checked in and went to their room.

Pest ordered room service while Bart showered. He could tell the fever had gone down. After

dressing, he wandered out into the living area of the suite.

“I ordered some food, plus some hot water and we’ll make you some tea as well.”

Bart shook his head. “No.”

“What do you mean no?” Pest frowned at him.

“I’d like to see how long I can go without needing the tea.” He sat on the couch and

rested his head on the back, closing his eyes.

Pest hummed softly for a minute, but Bart didn’t look at him. He rocked to the side as

Pest sat next to him. A warm hand landed on his thigh and he turned to look at Pest.

The white-haired man stared at the window and the silence filled the room. It wasn’t

uncomfortable or anything, just quiet. Bart closed his eyes again and drifted, leaning into

Pest’s body. He absorbed Pest’s warmth and breathed in the man’s spicy scent. While it

soothed him deep inside, it also excited him. His cock kept swelling, tenting the sweats he

wore.

Pest’s hand slid up his thigh to press gently against his erection. Hot breath washed

over his ear and he shivered.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of that later, but I think we should eat first. I want you to

keep your strength up, just in case the virus hasn’t totally left your body.”

Bart opened his eyes and met the endless black of Pest’s gaze. He slid his hand into the

hair at the nape of Pest’s neck to tug the man forward. Their lips met and Bart sighed, his

breath mingling with Pest’s. Thank God he didn’t have to worry about getting Pest sick.

He licked the seam of Pest’s lips, asking for entrance. Pest opened and Bart swiped his

tongue inside, tasting the mint Pest had had earlier. They teased and played, not taking the

kiss deep or passionate yet.

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Pest cradled the side of Bart’s face and tilted his head for a better angle. Soft and slow,

their lips rubbed together. How long had it been since Bart had been treated with such care?

None of his former lovers had ever seemed to worry about treating him like he was special.

Oh, not that Bart wanted tenderness all the time, but sometimes it was nice to know he

mattered to the man he was going to sleep with.

A knock on the door broke them apart. Pest smiled at him before standing and going to

get the food. Bart stayed on the couch, not interested in standing or moving at the moment.

Pest set the plate in front of him, handing him silverware before opening him a beer. He

grinned at the man when Pest set the bottle down.

“I thought you might like one since it’s been months since you last had a drink.”

“True. It’s been longer than that. We didn’t have anything like that on the expedition

either.” Bart rolled his eyes. “Probably a good thing considering being drunk isn’t safe while

stumbling around the jungle.”

Pest opened a bottle of water for himself and chuckled. “Good idea. I don’t usually

drink anything except water or tea.”

“A real nature’s child, huh?” Bart winked as he lifted the cover off his plate and

breathed the tantalising aroma of steak and potatoes. “How did you know what I wanted?”

Pest laughed again. “After not having a ton of red meat, I figured you’d be dying for a

steak. I’ve been living on fish and vegetables for so long, I don’t miss steaks or anything like

that anymore.”

They settled down to eat and Bart savoured every bite of the well-prepared steak and

potatoes. No conversation interrupted the meal. When the last bite was swallowed, Bart leant

back against the couch and groaned. He patted his stomach.

“I think I ate too much.”

Pest grunted and cleared their plates off the coffee table, setting the tray of dirty dishes

in the hallway. After coming back in, Pest sat on the edge of the table in front of Bart.

“Why don’t you get ready for bed? I’m going to take a shower after you’re done. Then

we can pick up where we left off when the food arrived.”

“Sounds like a good idea to me.”

He brushed a kiss over Pest’s lips as he stood. “I’m going to brush my teeth, then head

to bed. Which room did you give me?”

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“I put both our bags in the master bedroom. No sense in trying to act like we don’t

know where this is going.” Pest stood as well, his hands resting lightly on Bart’s hips. “But I

have to ask. Are you sure?”

“Sure about sleeping with you?”

Pest nodded and Bart laughed.

“You have more secrets than a government agent, but I find I don’t really care about

that at the moment. I like you, Pest, even without knowing anything about you. I find I don’t

even care whether you’re crazy or not.”

“Do you really think I’m crazy? Aside from my background, have I done anything to

make you think I’m crazy enough to hurt you? Ultimately that’s what you have to think

about. Would I hurt you?” Pest brought their foreheads together.

Bart stared into those unique dark eyes and while he knew he probably shouldn’t see

anything in them, he did see caring and desire. Pest had had all the chances in the world to

hurt or kill him while he had been ill. Hell, Pest could have just let him die from whatever

disease he’d caught. Yet the man had done all he could to keep Bart alive and ensure he

didn’t have any long-term effects.

“No, you wouldn’t hurt me. I know that and if anyone were to ask me, I’d say the same

thing, even though I don’t know anything else about you. You had so many opportunities to

do something to me while I was sick and you never did.” Bart shook his head with a smile. “I

don’t have a problem sharing my body with you, Pest, and to be honest, I’m afraid I’m

starting to want more from you than just sex.”

Pest closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. Bart bit his lip and worried he’d said too

much.

“I feel the same way, which is why I’ve promised to tell you the truth about my life. Just

not yet. I want to feel you inside me once, in case you decide you can’t deal with what I tell

you.”

Inside him? Bart’s eyebrows shot up. Was Pest really going to let Bart top? It was an

experience Bart rarely got to have. For some reason, most of his lovers assumed he would be

a bottom, and while Bart did like to be fucked occasionally, he tended to like being the one

fucking for the most part.

“You’d let me take you?”

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Pest nodded. “Sure. Nothing turns me on more than a nice fat cock reaming my ass, and

from what I’ve seen, you’ve got the right equipment to make me very happy.”

Bart swallowed hard and nodded. “I haven’t done that in a while, but I’m more than

ready for it.”

“Good.” Pest pulled away and gave him a gentle shove towards the bathroom. “I get

the bed ready and make sure we have the supplies. Then I’ll take a shower.”

He brushed his teeth and washed up before heading to the bedroom. Pest passed him in

the living room and patted his ass. Blushing, he stripped and slipped under the covers. Lying

back, he stared up at the ceiling while listening to the shower run. Bart’s pulse raced and he

tried to calm down. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen Pest nude before, or like they hadn’t done

anything sexual.

Yet, as many lovers as he’d had over the years, what was going down between Pest and

him seemed way more serious than anything he’d ever done before. He’d thought what he’d

had with Jasper was serious, at least serious enough for him to consider subletting his condo

and moving in with the other man. All that was over the second Jasper turned his back and

abandoned Bart without a single thought or worry.

The shower turned off and he listened closely to Pest’s movements through the rest of

the suite. He rolled onto his side and propped his head up on his hand as Pest came into the

bedroom. He let his gaze roll down the length of Pest’s naked body, enjoying the view of all

the skin except for the gloves on Pest’s hands.

“Why are you still wearing gloves?”

Pest shot him a surprised look. “You know I can’t touch you with my hands. The best

way to ensure you don’t get sick is to wear the gloves. I know it looks silly, but I’d rather

look foolish than you fall ill again.”

Pest undid his braid and shook out his long white hair.

“God, I love your hair,” he whispered as Pest climbed into bed, and yanked the

blankets down before straddling him.

Bart ran his fingers through Pest’s hair, letting the silken strands catch on his calluses.

Pest’s locks shimmered like moonlight in the shadows of the room, gleaming and sparkling

like they were alive.

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Pest rocked their groins together, drawing a moan from both of them. Bart absorbed the

warmth of Pest’s skin, but he jerked slightly as Pest ran his hands over Bart’s chest. The cool

and smooth leather of Pest’s gloves brought goose flesh across his body.

“Are you going to wear those all night?”

Sadness tinged Pest’s smile. “Yes. I can’t touch you with my bare hands, Bart. Don’t ask

why yet. Let’s forget about everything else and just concentrate on right now.”

Bart filed the question away to add to the list of what they were going to talk about

later. He wasn’t going to let not knowing the entire truth about Pest keep them from having

sex. He’d been lusting after the man for months, and if this was the only time they would

share a bed, he was going to take advantage of it.

He nodded and twisted his hand into Pest’s hair, dragging the man down to kiss him.

Their lips met, crashing and rubbing. He bit Pest’s bottom lip, then sucked the pain away.

Pest groaned and undulated over Bart, pressing every inch of his body against Bart’s.

Their erections fitted together, pre-cum leaking from the slits and easing the friction

slightly as they moved in unison. Bart let his head drop back and Pest trailed kisses down

Bart’s chin to suck on the soft spot behind Bart’s ear.

“Oh,” Bart gasped, his hips arching up.

Pest kept moving down, teasing Bart’s nipples with his tongue and lips. Bart couldn’t

stay still. He slid around, trying to get more skin to rub against. He needed pressure.

Bart’s eyes rolled in his head as Pest settled between his legs before sucking his cock

down, burying his nose in the curls at the base of Bart’s dick. Tight and moist, Pest bobbed

up and down, working Bart like a pro. Bart gripped the sides of Pest’s head, holding the man

there while he fucked his mouth. Pest didn’t struggle, just let Bart do as he pleased.

Bart’s balls drew tight to his body and the pressure built along his spine. His climax

was getting ready to explode, but he didn’t want to come yet. He wanted to be buried in

Pest’s ass when he did. He tapped Pest’s cheek.

Those fathomless eyes met his and he managed to smile. “I’m going to come any second

now. I want to be inside you when that happens.”

Pest licked him once more from base to tip before pulling off him. “Okay. Here’s a

condom. I got myself ready in the shower. I didn’t want to take any more time than

necessary. I really want you to fuck me.”

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“Good. I’m not sure I could have taken the time to get you ready. Not right now. Maybe

the next time we can take it slow.”

His hands shook as he tore open the foil packet and rolled the latex over his cock. He

looked up to see Pest holding a bottle of lube. Pest popped the top and squirted some slick

onto his gloved palm. Bart gritted his teeth and tried not to fill the condom as Pest coated his

cock with lube.

“Pest, quit teasing,” he ordered, a low growl sounding in his throat.

Pest winked and straddled his hips again. Bart grabbed those slender hips and helped

support Pest as he reached around to grasp Bart’s shaft. They sighed as Pest pressed down

and Bart thrust up.

Without hesitation, Pest sank down on Bart’s cock until his entire length was buried

deep inside. Pest leant forward a little and braced his hands on Bart’s chest, staring down at

him. Bart didn’t move until he knew for sure Pest was all right. At the brief nod Pest gave

him, Bart’s control broke.

He surged up, flipping over and pinning Pest to the bed with his body. As Pest hooked

his legs around Bart’s waist, Bart moved, reaming Pest’s ass with hard deep strokes. Grunts

filled the air while sweat coated their bodies. Pest accepted everything Bart gave him,

offering his body up to the savagery of Bart’s need.

Pest’s channel was tight and hot, engulfing Bart’s cock and holding it like a vice. Pest

clenched each time Bart pulled out, seeming to not want to give up the feeling of fullness.

Bart stroked in, doing all he could to nail Pest’s gland each time.

The rather cool leather of Pest’s gloves set off tiny explosions along Bart’s nerve endings

with each touch, and Bart found himself slowly beginning to lose his rhythm. His balls drew

tight to his body, and pressure built at the base of his spine. He closed his eyes and bit his lip,

stroking in and out of Pest like a piston, driving small cries and moans from his lover.

Pest’s words broke through the sound of skin slapping skin and stoked the fire burning

in Bart higher. “Come on. Give it to me. I want to feel you when I walk tomorrow. I want to

know I’ve been fucked every time I sit.”

Bart’s climax shot through him like electricity and his cum spilled out into the condom,

filling it with each burst.

“Come, Pest. I want you to milk me dry,” he demanded.

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Pest closed his eyes and a grimace of pleasure crossed his face as strings of pearly white

cum shot from his prick, coating their stomachs and hitting Pest’s chest as well. Bart

trembled as Pest’s inner muscles massaged his shaft, coaxing a few more feeble squirts of

cum from him.

As the force of their climaxes died, Bart collapsed on top of Pest, his face buried in the

pillow next to Pest’s head. They panted and his nose filled with the scent of sweat and sex.

Pest trailed his fingers up and down Bart’s back, comforting him as best he could until

he calmed down. Bart rolled over to his side and Pest winced as Bart’s softened cock slid

from his tender hole.

“I’ll take care of this and clean up. You want some water or something?”

“Please.”

Bart climbed from the bed and wandered to the bathroom. He took care of the rubber

before washing up. He dampened another washcloth and stopped by the mini bar for a bottle

of water. He headed back to the bedroom where he found Pest hadn’t moved an inch.

“Wore you out, did I?” He tossed the cloth and it hit Pest’s sculpted chest.

His lover wrinkled his nose at the wet squelch the cloth made as it hit his skin. “Yes, I

think you did. You have to remember it’s been a while since I’ve had a lover. Not too many

opportunities present themselves out in the middle of the jungle. My right hand doesn’t give

me a lot of exercise.”

Pest cleaned up and dropped the cloth on the floor next to the bed. He accepted the

water Bart handed him, taking a sip. Bart leant back against the pillows, staring out of the

bedroom door into the living room.

“What was it like, seeing Jasper for the first time since he dumped your ass in the

rainforest?”

Bart pursed his lips and shrugged. “I thought I’d be angry at him. I mean, I was really

sick and it was just dumb luck I stumbled into the clearing you happened to be in. I could

have died down there and no one would have thought he’d left me there. I’m sure he had

some brilliant lie about me wandering away from camp and them not being able to find me.”

“But?”

Smiling, Bart realised Pest knew him well.

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“But seeing him now, I can’t feel anything but pity. He’s really sick and so are the

others.”

“Karma’s a bitch at times.” Pest wiggled around, getting comfortable.

“You really believe in karma?” Bart shot the man next to him a questioning glance.

Pest chuckled. “I really do believe the things you do in this life will come back to you. It

doesn’t matter whether it’s good or bad, it’ll come around to bite you on the ass, or give you

a present for doing something good.”

“Well, besides leaving me behind, Jasper must have done some terrible stuff in his life,

if this is karma paying him back.” Bart shook his head. “I don’t know what I should do.”

Reaching over, Pest placed his hand on Bart’s chest. “You let Darvi examine you

tomorrow. You talk to Jasper for a while, and once Darvi decides you’re not in any danger of

spreading the disease, you’ll go back to Harvard and give all of your notes to Kakkar. He’ll

know what to do with all your stuff.”

“I just hope he doesn’t suggest another expedition to Brazil. I’m not sure I want to go

back there.” He covered Pest’s hand with his own. “Meeting you is the only good thing to

come from tramping around there.”

Pest’s cheeks flushed a little and Bart lifted their hands to his mouth, brushing a kiss

over Pest’s leather-covered knuckles. A small wish caught itself in his heart. What would it

feel like to have Pest’s hands on his body without the leather in the way? Yet he understood

why Pest couldn’t touch him, and while he ached to feel Pest’s touch, at least he got to feel

the rest of his naked body against his own.

He slipped his arm around Pest’s shoulder, bringing the man closer to him. Soon they

were lying under the covers, snuggled together with Pest’s head on his shoulder. He nuzzled

his nose into Pest’s curls.

“Was your hair always white?” He picked up a few strands and let them drop back

down.

“No. Before I killed myself, my hair was auburn. When I came back, my hair was pure

white. It was a shock the first time I saw my reflection. Of course, everything was upsetting

when I realised I wasn’t dead. I was furious I hadn’t actually managed to kill myself. Death

explained to me that I really had killed myself, but I was brought back for a reason.” Pest

stopped, and took a deep breath.

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Bart could tell Pest needed a moment, so he said, “My parents died several years ago.

My mom went first, then my dad didn’t want to live without her. I think he died of a broken

heart, though the doctors said it was heart failure.”

“A broken heart could be considered a form of heart failure.”

He snorted and pinched Pest who grunted.

“You’re right, but I was an only child and they were orphans who met at a foster home.

So there’s no one who really cares one way or the other what I do. Kerry’s a friend, and I

guess I never really realised just how good a friend he is. I tend to get caught up in my

experiments and research. He’s always around to drag me out for a movie or a night on the

town.”

“I think he likes you,” Pest mumbled.

“He did until he got a look at you. I could dance around naked in front of him and all

he’d see is you.”

“Jealous?” Pest grinned at him.

“Nah. Kerry’s too young for you.”

“Really? And why do you think that?” Pest raised an eyebrow in question.

“Those weird eyes of yours have seen too much in your life time, no matter how long

you’ve been alive. Kerry’s pretty innocent, and you don’t know how to deal with someone

like that.”

Pest grew silent, and the only way Bart knew he was still awake was by the way Pest’s

hand trembled in his. The time had come for the truth to be told, and Bart wasn’t going to let

Pest avoid his questions this time.

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Chapter Nine

“Will you tell me the truth now?” Bart asked as they lay, wrapped in each other’s arms.

Pest’s heartbeat sped up. He rolled over on his back and stared up at the ceiling. He’d

promised Bart he’d tell him the whole truth, but did he have the courage to watch Bart walk

away after the night they’d just spent together?

How had this one human got behind all of Pest’s walls? Only his wife had ever made

him feel as happy and as intense as Bart did. None of the few men and women he’d slept

with since becoming a Horseman ever caused him to consider revealing the truth.

“Pest?”

At Bart’s softly whispered question, Pest surrendered. His lover wouldn’t believe him,

but Pest couldn’t fight Bart, plus he had promised. With a sigh, he climbed out of bed and

got dressed.

“I should’ve known you wouldn’t let it go. You should get dressed. This isn’t

something I can discuss while naked. I’ll pour us a drink while you do so.”

Bart didn’t say anything. He simply did as Pest suggested. Pest had a bottle of whisky

delivered earlier with their dinner and he opened it, pouring their drinks when Bart got out

of the bathroom.

“Do you want to turn on a light?” Bart asked as he sat on the couch.

Pest stood by the window, watching the headlights speed past and shaking his head.

“What I tell you is better said in the dark.”

“Okay.”

Silence filled the room for a few minutes while Pest organised his thoughts. Where to

start? He’d dropped hints, but Bart chose not to believe them.

“You can only tell the truth, Pestilence. Belief must come from him.”

Death’s advice startled him. Pest rested his forehead against the cool glass.

“Why aren’t you here trying to stop me? We aren’t supposed to reveal anything about the

Horsemen. Yet here I am, ready to spill my guts.”

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“Maybe I wish to see his reaction. Maybe the argument you presented me earlier convinced me.”

Death’s shrug was obvious in his tone. “Only you can make the final decision. Remember though,

you can tell him very little about Lam. There are harsher penalties for revealing knowledge about his

kind.”

Pest nodded and took a large swallow of whisky for liquid courage.

“You asked me once who Lam was and I mentioned he was a friend doing Death a

favour.”

“Yes.” Bart sat, almost frozen, on the couch.

“It was true as far as it goes. Lam is really an agnus dei, or a lamb of God.”

“You mean like the Bible?”

Pest nodded, then said, “Like the Bible.”

“But I thought there was only one Lamb of God. I certainly never got the feeling Lam

was Him.”

Laughing, Pest shook his head. “Oh no. There is the Lamb of God, capital L and all that.

And then there are lambs of Gods, or agnus dei. They break the seals during the end days.

They are the ones who release the Horsemen, and serve as messengers between Death and

God.”

“Is that what Lam’s tattoo means?”

“Yes, I believe so, though I’ve never asked him about it.”

The clink of ice against glass informed Pest Bart had taken a drink. A thud and a splash

let him know Bart had poured himself another drink.

“Of Apocalypse fame? Those Horsemen?”

“The same ones. Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death. We are real, not figments or

allegories.” Pest wound a lock of his hair around a finger and tugged. “We exist to keep the

balance between Heaven and Hell.”

“I’m not an expert on the Bible, but I thought the Horsemen were signs of the end

times.” Bart’s confusion sounded in his voice.

Pest turned away from the window and sat in the chair across from the couch. He

braced his elbows on his knees and let his glass dangle from his hand. He stared at the floor.

“For many, that’s what we are, but we are used to keep the end of times from

happening. When evil has too much hold over the world, the agnus dei open the seals and we

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ride forth.” He closed his eyes, blocking out the shadows and letting the images in his mind

dance on his eyelids.

“Pestilence is first and if what I do doesn’t change their minds, then War reigns down

on the innocent. Famine is the last resort because if whoever is creating the unbalance doesn’t

stop, there is nothing but terror coming after us. Death accompanies each of us. He is our de

facto leader.”

Pausing, Pest waited for Bart to laugh or get up and walk away. The other man simply

sat there, not moving, but also not looking at Pest.

“How does one become a Horseman?”

Sighing, Pest ran his hand through his hair. “I used to be Doctor Aldo Bianchi, a healer

in a small village just outside Rome in Italy. I was thirty when the plague hit and within

months, my entire life had changed. My wife and I had been married for ten years and I

loved her with all my heart. Only my son meant more to me.”

“That’s understandable, but how do you go from being married to sleeping with me?”

Bart gestured vaguely.

“It might seem strange, but you realise I’ve been around for seven hundred years. I’ve

learned over the span of those centuries, chemistry doesn’t care whether the person in your

bed has a dick or a pussy. All it cares about is how attracted you are to the person.” Pest leant

back and let his arms flop to his sides. “I will admit I was slightly freaked out the first time I

found myself head over heels in lust with a man. I had stirrings of attraction when I was

alive, but I loved my wife so much, it didn’t matter that sex with another man was illegal, I

wouldn’t have done anything anyway.”

“How did you become a Horseman? We seem to have wandered away from that

question.”

Pest cringed and hoped Bart couldn’t see his expression in the dark. He’d purposely ran

away from that question, not really wanting to discuss in detail his demise and subsequent

rebirth as Pestilence.

“There have always been Horsemen, and there must always be four. I don’t know how

one stops being a Horseman. Maybe one day we just simply cease to exist and a new one is

born to take our place. Death never explained it to me. He knows far more than the rest of us.

Maybe that’s why he’s the leader.”

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“Did he come and make you an offer or something? You said you killed yourself

because of your guilt for not saving your family and the other villagers. Is this your

punishment for taking your own life?”

Pest frowned. Was being a Horseman punishment for what he’d done? Yet an instinct

inside his soul told him no. If he were to be punished, he would have been forced to continue

living his life alone without the two people he loved most in the world.

“I don’t think it works that way. The first Death I dealt with told me it wasn’t

necessarily a punishment for killing myself. I had more lessons to learn. God, or the universe,

had plans for me. ” He shot to his feet and moved to the open space where he paced, tugging

on the ends of his hair while he talked. “One moment I dangled from the end of a rope,

feeling my life strangle out of me. The next, I was gasping for air, staring up into the eyes of a

stranger.”

Bart shifted on the couch before pouring himself another glass of whisky. “Was it

Death?”

Pest shook his head. “Yes and no. The being you know as Death is the second Pale

Horseman I’ve known. The first was the one who dragged me out of my death and told me

who I’d become.”

“Really? How did you react to that?” Bart sounded surprised at Pest’s lack of curiosity.

“I freaked out and he waited patiently until I could breathe again before he sat me

down. He calmly explained how this was going to work. I was now Pestilence, the first

Horseman. I mean, who would be a better person for the job than a doctor? I knew all the

damage disease and bacteria can cause, but instead of healing them, I cause epidemics with a

touch of my hand.”

He held up his hands, covered with black leather, to the moonlight shining through the

windows. Once his hands had been instruments of healing and care. Now they were the

source of so much pain and anguish. At times, he wished he could die and he would have

probably killed himself again.

“You’re afraid of accidently making someone ill. Is that why you live in the rainforest?

You don’t have a lot of interaction with people, so there’s no risk you can give something to

anyone.” Bart scrubbed his hand over his face. “But how does it work?”

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“What do you mean? How does it work? Death comes to collect me. I go with him to

wherever he wants the epidemic to start. I do my job, touching people and giving them

whatever illness happens to come from me. I never know what they might get since I don’t

have control over it.” Pest stopped and braided his hair, finding a band in his pocket to tie off

the end. It was a nervous habit he’d developed over the centuries.

“When he thinks it’s enough, he tells me I can go. Death always sticks around because

he has to deal with the truly difficult part of their death. He touches them and they die, then

he gathers their souls up and escorts them to the gates.”

“The Pearly Gates?” A soft snort from Bart after the question told Pest Bart’s scepticism

was still there.

“Hell, I don’t know what kind of gates they are. I never saw them. From what Death

told me, there are two sets of gates. One leads to Heaven and the other to Hell.”

“Does he shove them through the gates or what?”

“He leaves them there. It isn’t his job to escort them to where they need to be. Just to the

gates. I guess someone else takes over from there.”

“Why you? Did the man ever explain why you’re the one chosen to take over from the

last Horseman?” Bart paused for a second before continuing. “Can you say no when Death

tells you to go with him?”

Pest rolled his eyes and snorted. “Oh sure. I tried to say no when you showed up, but

Death wouldn’t let me stay with you. That’s how Lam came to be your nurse. I’ve never said

no to Death before and I can’t say I’ve ever wanted to either. Why should I fight what I am?”

Bart stood up and walked towards him. As difficult as it was, Pest didn’t drop his gaze.

He did close his eyes when Bart cupped his face in his hands.

“Do you feel you deserve this? Do you see this as punishment for not being able to keep

your family alive? For them dying during the plague?”

Filling his lungs, Pest started to shake his head and not answer Bart’s question. Bart

wouldn’t let him move.

“Look at me. Tell me you don’t think you’re responsible for their deaths. Tell me you

understand there wasn’t anything you could have done.”

“Do you believe me?”

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His question hung in the air like a balloon, and Bart hesitated. Pest jerked from his

touch and turned away. He tugged on the end of his braid while he paced, not wanting to

stand close to Bart and breath in his familiar scent. Christ! He thought he could handle Bart

not believing him, yet it seemed his heart didn’t like knowing the man he was falling in love

with thought he was crazy.

“You really should believe him, Bartholomew.”

Pest didn’t turn when Death spoke up. He’d been aware of Death’s presence the minute

the other Horseman arrived, but he was surprised Death had even made an appearance. Bart

jumped and whirled around to face the pale man standing in the corner of the room.

“How did you get in here? You haven’t been here the whole time or I would have seen

you.” Bart glanced over his shoulder at Pest. “Did you ask him to come to try and convince

me you’re telling the truth?”

Death pointed a finger towards the lamp and it turned on. His black eyes stared at Bart,

yet Pest could tell his comrade’s attention wasn’t totally on Bart.

“You’re sure it will be worth telling him everything?” Death stalked up to Bart and

reached out.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Don’t touch him.”

Bart and Pest spoke at the same time. Death’s upper lip curled slightly as he let his hand

drop.

“Why are you afraid of me touching you if you don’t believe we are who Pestilence

says we are?” Death rested his hands on his hips. “And I can tell from your rather panicked

expression, you know who I am.”

“Well, if any of this is real, then you must be Death, the Pale Horseman. I do remember

seeing you at Pest’s place in the jungle.” Bart seemed rather belligerent, especially talking to

Death. “Why are you here?”

“It’s certainly not to take you to the gates. It appears you aren’t going to die any time

soon.” Death looked at Pest. “I’m here to support him should you be stupid enough to think

he’s crazy.”

Pest blinked. Death was there to support him? To comfort him if Bart turned away?

Death never gave any sign he might care about his fellow Horsemen. Hell, none of them

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wanted to spend time with each other. It was hard for Pest to look at War, Famine, or even

Death for that matter. Knowing what they represented and how it hurt the mortals they

looked after, yet it was necessary.

“He might not really believe you, but he does have a point.” Death inclined his head in

Bart’s direction.

“What point is that?” Pest couldn’t help but ask, even though he didn’t want to engage

Death in a long drawn out conversation.

Death eyed him like a bug under a microscope “Do you feel this is punishment for your

family dying in the plague? Or for killing yourself after they died?”

Pest turned his back on both of the men. He moved back to his spot at the window.

Staring out into the darkness, he couldn’t really see the reflections of Death and Bart, which

was what he wanted. The isolation he felt in the black velvet of the sky eased him in a way,

but he found he didn’t like looking at himself.

“It wasn’t an accusation,” Bart pointed out.

Pest sensed him moving closer before his hand landed on Pest’s shoulder. He didn’t

move away, simply absorbing the warmth from his fingers.

“Pestilence?”

He closed his eyes and sighed. “I’m a doctor. I should have been able to save them.”

“But no one knew what they were fighting. The bubonic virus was undetectable during

your time. Those who survived were lucky. It didn’t mean you were a terrible doctor. You

weren’t equipped to deal with an epidemic like that.”

Bart’s defence of him loosened something deep inside Pest.

“They trusted me to save them. When my son looked me in the eye and asked me if I’d

make mama better, I told him yes. I lied to him. By the time my wife died, he was so sick, he

didn’t even know she’d gone. He kept asking for her, and I had to tell him his mother

wouldn’t be coming to hold him. I couldn’t explain I let him down.” Pest banged his head

against the glass. “Why didn’t I get sick? Why couldn’t I have been the one who died?”

“Maybe it simply wasn’t your time to go, though to be honest I don’t believe in that sort

of thing.” Death shrugged when both Bart and Pest looked at him.

“Really? You’re Death, and you don’t believe in a destined time for us to go?” Pest was

surprised.

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“Why? Should I?”

Pest hesitated and Bart coughed.

“You are Death. The one who comes for us all.”

Death’s eyebrows lowered slightly before he nodded. “Technically, you’re right, but I

deal with massive deaths from epidemics, famine, or war. I rarely deal with solitary deaths,

though I occasionally do them. Large-scale death isn’t a matter of fate or destiny. It’s simply a

matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Bart turned to look at Pest. “Why are we discussing him? This is about you. You

shouldn’t feel guilty for something you had no control over.”

“For some, guilt is a stronger prison than love or happiness.” Death pointed out. The

Pale Horseman strolled away from them. “You must forgive yourself before you’ll ever be

free of this prison of your own making.”

In a flash, Death was gone and Pest was left alone with Bart. His lover stared at the spot

where Death had stood for several minutes before walking calmly over to the whisky and

taking a drink straight from the bottle. He flopped onto the couch and let his head drop back

so he could look up at the ceiling.

Pest stayed where he stood. “Is all this too much for you? Are you thinking you must be

dreaming or in one of your fever-induced hallucinations?”

Bart rolled his shoulders in a vague shrug. “While my head is telling me there’s no way

any of this is possible, my gut and instincts are screaming that it all makes sense now.”

“I wish there was some way I could prove to you I am who I say I am, but the only way

I could do it is by touching someone and I don’t want to make someone ill. It could start

another epidemic and I don’t want that.” Pest joined Bart on the couch and propped his feet

up on the coffee table. “What do we do now?”

“We go to bed and sleep on it. We have a bunch of stuff to do tomorrow, but I’ll be

thinking about what you told me the entire time.” Bart chuckled softly. “You know how

much Darvi and the others would freak out if they knew you were Pestilence and one of the

Horsemen.”

“They can’t know. You have to promise never to tell anyone else, Bart. I wasn’t even

supposed to tell you. I’m surprised Death let me say anything.”

“He seems like a nice guy despite the most feared of all of you.”

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Pest nodded. “He also is the one who accepted his role the easiest. War, Famine, and I

kind of separated ourselves from society while he lives among mortals. There is no guilt in

him for what he does, yet he isn’t a sociopath or anything like that either.”

Bart stood. “Let’s go to bed and we’ll discuss this tomorrow, after my mind’s had time

to process it.”

There wasn’t anything Pest could do but agree. They cleaned up the glasses and put the

whisky away before heading back to the bedroom. After crawling under the coverings, Pest

lay; wondering if Bart would want to sleep in his embrace or if the knowledge of what he

really was would make Bart fear him.

Bart slipped in next to him and settled, resting his head on Pest’s shoulder and

throwing his arm over Pest’s stomach. Pest sighed silently and let his eyes drift close. He

admitted to himself that for the first time since he became a Horseman, he was happy. Maybe

it had to do with having finally told someone the truth. Or maybe it was simply because Bart

put him at ease with himself.

He nuzzled into Bart’s curls and breathed deep of his scent. In his heart, he was starting

to believe what Bart said. Even though he was a doctor, it wasn’t his fault his family died.

He’d done all he could do to keep them alive, but he didn’t have the medicine or the

knowledge to help them or any of the others he’d tried to save. Killing himself hadn’t been

the way to honour their memories.

Touching the locket around his neck, he whispered, “I’ll always love you, Antoinette.

You’re in my heart forever, Pietro, but it’s time for me to let go. I must live without looking

backwards into the past. I might not like this job I have, but I will do it as best I can to honour

you. Maybe someone will find a cure for the epidemic I bring them and help save lives

instead of destroy them.”

An odd little breeze brushed his cheek and he could faintly smell the perfume

Antoinette always wore. Maybe it was simply his imagination, but it was almost like she

understood and gave him her blessing. He smiled and pulled Bart closer.

They would go back to the hospital and see if they could help Darvi with whatever

virus Jones and the others had caught. They had to make sure it didn’t spread beyond the

people who already had it. Those worries were for tomorrow.

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Pest closed his eyes and allowed Bart’s warmth to lull him to sleep.

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Chapter Ten

Bart wanted to snarl at the nurse as she prepared another vial for more blood.

“You do realise you can only take so much blood from me before I pass out?”

“Are you feeling dizzy?” Her perfectly arched eyebrows rose as she asked.

“No,” he grumbled. “I’m just getting tired of feeling like a pin cushion.”

“Understandable, and this is the last test.”

He glanced up to see Pest and Darvi walk in. The minute they’d arrived at the hospital

that morning, the nurse’d whisked Bart off to be poked and prodded while Pest received the

royal treatment from Darvi and the rest of his team.

“You’ve gotten all the information you’re going to get from Dr Winston that way. We’d

like to talk with you now.” Darvi seemed more respectful today, like he realised Bart was

something more than an experiment to Pest.

The nurse quickly finished what she was doing, bandaged Bart’s arm, and sent them on

their way. Bart followed the two doctors to Darvi’s office where he was waved to a chair.

Pest sat in the chair next to him with an almost silent sigh. For the first time since meeting

Pest, Bart saw exhaustion in the Horseman’s eyes.

“Have you made any sort of breakthrough on what the virus might be that’s causing

Jasper and the others to be sick?”

It was a lot to ask, considering they hadn’t even been there a full day yet, but he

couldn’t help hoping they’d figured out how to save the men.

Pest shook his head. “No, but I do believe Dr Darvi is closer than he was before.”

“In discovering what the virus or infection is that is making those men sick, we aren’t

very close at all.” Darvi shook his head in disappointment. “But in finding medicine that will

fight it, we are closer with Dr Bianchi’s herbs, and we might be able to manufacture a drug in

our labs to help combat it.”

“I brought you some cuttings and instructions on how to grow it. That way you don’t

have to harvest it from the rainforest. I won’t allow anyone to come and deforest the land for

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a drug.” Pest settled back in his chair and crossed his legs, his white hair gleaming under the

fluorescent lights.

“Yes, and we appreciate that.” Darvi looked at Bart. “Thank you for being generous

enough to share your field notes with us. It helped us pinpoint the area your expedition

travelled, which in turn, should help us determine the origin of the virus.”

“Then why did you want to talk to me?” Bart wasn’t sure what else he could add to the

information.

“We need to know if Dr Jones and the others were acting weird before they left you.

Also, when did your symptoms start manifesting? We’re not sure about the incubation

period on the disease.”

Bart thought back to the weeks leading up to his getting ditched by his fellow team

members. Had there been any sign Jasper was thinking about leaving him behind? He didn’t

remember any, though he did remember the instances he would find Jasper talking privately

with Jameson, Koester, or Schmidt at various times. Were those the moments Jasper plotted

to dump Bart behind? If so, why had the others gone along with Jasper? It wasn’t like they

didn’t get along. In fact, Bart thought they were all pretty friendly, but maybe professional

jealousy got in the way of their good sense.

“I’m not sure about odd behaviour, but shortly after we discovered the plant Dr Jones

was searching for, and I helped establish the fact it was an entirely new species, he became

increasingly determined to leave. It was almost like he’d found what he wanted, and had no

interest in exploring anything else. Maybe he decided the one plant would make his career.”

Bart shrugged. “He’d made the decision to cut the expedition short by five months and

return to Harvard. I reminded him he would have to return some of the money he’d gotten,

but he didn’t seem upset about that.”

“At first, when Dr Jones returned, he said you had stayed behind in the jungle to

continue researching the plant and possibly finding other new species. I got the impression

Dr Jones thought it would be enough to keep the money. When no one could find you or

contact you in any way, he began saying you had seemed sick when you insisted they return

without you. Or at least, you didn’t seem like yourself.” Darvi narrowed his dark eyes and

pinned Bart with his intense gaze. “He was lying, wasn’t he?”

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“I started running a low-grade fever one night. I didn’t really think anything of it, just

attributed it to the humidity in that damn forest. The next morning when I woke up,

everyone was gone, even the porters and guides. All they left me was my tent and one

week’s supply of food and water. They’d taken everything else, even my passport and field

notes. I packed what I could and started hiking in the direction I thought they’d gone. By

nightfall, I was so feverish, I was hallucinating and becoming dehydrated.”

Bart paused as he thought about those days wandering the jungle, never knowing

where he was going or what he might find around the next bend. One night, he’d thought a

jaguar had stalked him, though thank God, it hadn’t attack him. Luck stayed with him

because he knew how easy it would have been to be bitten by a snake or spider and die a

painful death, or a million other ways he could’ve been killed. The Amazon was no place for

a sick man who had no survival skills at all.

“I’m not sure how long I wandered around before I stumbled into a clearing and found

Dr Bianchi standing there. I have to admit I wasn’t sure if he was real or not. Seemed an odd

place for a man to be standing, but I wasn’t going to complain. If he was real, he might be

able to help me out.” Bart grinned at Pest. “He did help me out and healed me. Somehow he

even managed to get me back home.”

“How long were you in the rainforest before you started feeling feverish?” Darvi

glanced up from his notes.

“Well, I don’t think the fever was the first symptom. Looking back for specific clues, I’d

say the first symptom was exhaustion. We’d been in the jungle for two months when I

started being completely exhausted after only a few hours hiking and searching for plants. I

attributed it to simply not being in shape and the temperature difference between Cambridge

and the Amazon.” Bart scratched his head as he thought. “There was also a small rash on my

left leg, right above my sock. I thought I’d just rubbed against something, like poison ivy or a

plant like that.”

“Maybe that’s what this is. Poisoning from a plant,” Darvi murmured.

Pest shook his head. “No. Then all the men would have exhibited symptoms at the

same time since they were in the same area. It wouldn’t have incubated like this virus has.

And it would have gone away once the men washed several times.”

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“You’re right. I suppose it was too simple an answer.” Darvi scribbled some lines down

on his notes. “So it’s possible you came in contact with the virus at least two months before

you started showing symptoms. It makes sense. Drs Jones, Jameson, Koester, and Schmidt

had been back around two months before they started getting sick. Also, the man I sent to

pick you up had been working for me and around these men for two months as well.”

“You’ll need to keep an eye on all your staff, Dr Darvi. I’m not sure how the illness is

transmitted, but it’s possible others will get sick before you can isolate the bacteria.” Pest

gestured towards the pile of folders on Darvi’s desk. “You have all of my notes I kept during

Dr Winston’s illness. My observations and the things I tried. What worked and what didn’t.

Hopefully those will be useful to you. I think I’ve done all I can to help you with this

outbreak. You have everything well in hand, and to be honest, I dislike being around so

many people.”

“Your reputation for solitude is well-known, Dr Bianchi. I hope I can consult you if I

have any questions.” Darvi stood.

Pest stood as well. “Yes, you may. I’ll give you a number and they will always be able

to reach me.”

They shook hands and Bart wondered what he should be doing. Should he leave with

Pest or stay around? Darvi took the decision out of his hands.

“We’d like you to stay, Dr Winston. While we’ve completed our preliminary tests on

you, I’m sure we’ll think of some others needing to be done as well. Also, I’d like you to talk

to Jones and the others. I think seeing you and knowing you survived what they’re going

through will help keep their spirits up.”

Bart wasn’t sure how well that would work, yet he was willing to give it a try. He didn’t

care about Jasper as a lover anymore, but he didn’t want the man to die either. He stood and

shook Darvi’s hand.

“The suite you’re staying in will remain available to you for as long as you’re here.”

“Thank you, Dr Darvi. I appreciate it.”

“Not as much as we appreciate your willingness to help us.” Darvi smiled with a

distracted air.

The man wanted them to leave so he could start working on figuring out how to cure

his patients. Bart caught Pest’s gaze and nodded towards the door. Pest strolled ahead of

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him, making it hard for Bart to keep his eyes above Pest’s waist. He watched the white braid

swing with each step Pest made. He remembered how it had felt flowing around him as they

had made love the night before.

With the memory came all the others of their talk afterwards. As much as Bart wanted

to say he didn’t believe a word Pest said, and he thought Pest was a lunatic who’d gone

insane after spending too much time by himself in that God-forsaken jungle, he couldn’t.

Every word Pest spoke rang true in the deepest part of Bart’s soul. In addition, Bart did some

research on the internet and there’d been a Dr Aldo Bianchi practising medicine in the

seventeen hundreds, or at least, that’s the earliest known record of the man.

Of course, Pest could’ve just borrowed the name and made it his own. Yet descriptions

and a few blurry recent photographs he’d seen of Aldo Bianchi showed a stunningly

handsome man with pure white hair. That wasn’t a coincidence.

They stood outside in the hallway, and Bart studied Pest.

“What happens now?”

Pest frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

“Are you going to leave without another word and disappear from my life? A rather

odd angel of mercy in my hour of need. Or are we going to stay in touch and see where our

mutual attraction takes us?” Bart stepped closer to Pest, reaching up to place a hand on the

man’s chest. “I know which option I’d prefer.”

“But can you deal with who I really am, Bartholomew? All the times I’ll have to leave,

but can’t tell you where I’m going.” Pest looked away, his doubt showing in his eyes. “Yet

you’ll know where I’ve been by the news coverage of another epidemic.”

Bart looked around, taking in the sterile white walls and the slightly antiseptic smells of

the hospital. This wasn’t the place where he wanted to declare his heart to the man who

somehow had stolen it. He’d prefer somewhere private and romantic, yet it didn’t look like

he was going to get it.

“I can deal with it. I thought about all you told me last night.” He cradled Pest’s face,

tilting it so he could look into Pest’s black eyes. “None of it matters. I forgive you for

everything you’ve ever done. Of course, I don’t think you’re guilty of anything except caring

too much. Yet you seem to think you’re guilty of some crime. I forgive you, Aldo Bianchi, of

everything you’ve done and everything you’re going to do in the future.”

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Tears pooled in Pest’s eyes and Bart wanted to kiss him so badly, but he didn’t want to

risk someone seeing them. He stepped back and grabbed Pest’s hand.

“Where are we going?”

“Back to the hotel and I’m not going to let you leave.”

Pest didn’t protest as they headed out of the hospital to the car. Bart gave Pest a gentle

push towards the passenger side before climbing behind the wheel. They drove to the hotel

in silence, Bart unsure of how to continue the conversation, though he knew exactly what he

wanted to say. It was best to wait until they had total privacy before he spilled his secrets.

They took the elevator up to their suite and Bart pushed Pest down on the couch. Pest

settled back to stare at him while he paced.

“Aren’t you going to say anything,” he challenged Pest when he couldn’t think of how

to start.

“This is your show, friend. I’m just along for the ride.” Pest crossed his legs and folded

his hands in his lap, his expression blank.

“You totally suck, you know that?”

Pest shrugged. “I’ve heard people say that about me.”

“Okay.” Bart shoved his hands through his hair once before he turned to face Pest. “I

love you.”

Pest blinked, a hint of shock showing on his face.

“I know. It came as a complete surprise to me as well, but here we are. I love you, Dr

Aldo Bianchi, aka Pestilence, the Rider of the White Horse. I don’t care what you’ve done, or

where you’ve been. I don’t care how old you are or that you can’t die. And as much as I

might not like it, I accept why you can’t ever touch me with your hands.” Bart dropped to his

knees in front of Pest. “Do you love me? Or are you always going to be in love with your

wife?”

Reaching out, Pest ran his hand over Bart’s hair and cupped his cheek. “I’ll always love

my wife and son, but they’re gone, Bart. I know and accept that. They live forever in a part of

my heart, yet I’ve discovered I have more room in there for another special person. Someone

who knows all my secrets and accepts me for who I am. Little did I know that person

appeared the day you stumbled into my arms, sick and needing my help.”

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Bart nuzzled Pest’s hand, no longer bothered by the smell and touch of leather instead

of skin.

“I love you, Bart, and we’ll make this work somehow. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to

live in a city though. I’ll always worry about accidentally touching someone and making

them ill.”

He smiled up at his lover. “Don’t worry. I’m sure we can work out a compromise and

you won’t have to leave the house ever, except when Death comes for you.”

Bart jumped to his feet and tugged Pest to his. Their lips met in a crash of passion and

promise. While he devoured Pest’s mouth, he fumbled with the buttons on Pest’s shirt, trying

to get the man naked as soon as possible.

They stumbled over to their bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes behind them. The back

of his knees hit the mattress and he toppled over, bringing Pest down on top of him. He

trailed kisses over Pest’s chin and neck, sucking a little on the patch of skin at the base of

Pest’s throat.

“I want you in me,” Pest said, moaning softly as Bart squeezed his butt cheeks.

Easing back, Bart shook his head. “No. It’s my turn to get fucked by you. I’ve been

dreaming of your cock in my ass since we met.”

Pest’s eyes widened and his cock stiffened.

“You like that idea, huh?” Bart winked and arched, rubbing their groins together.

“Oh yes.” Pest rolled off Bart and looked wildly around. “Where did we leave the

stuff?”

Bart chuckled. “I put the lube and some condoms in the nightstand next to the bed.”

He wrapped his hand around his cock and started stroking, playing with himself until

Pest rejoined him with the supplies. Bart hooked his hands behind his knees and lifted his

legs up and apart, giving Pest better access to his ass. He gasped as the cool slick hit his

heated flesh.

They both moaned as Pest pressed one finger against Bart’s tight hole and slowly eased

in, one inch at a time. There wasn’t any rush. They didn’t know how they were going to

make it work, but together they would find a way to have a relationship. Deep in his soul,

Bart believed it would be fine.

Pest paused when his finger was in as far as it could go. “Are you okay?”

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Bart nodded and clenched his muscles around Pest’s digit, letting his lover know he

was ready for more. Pest smiled and removed his finger. When he pushed two in, he bent

down and took Bart’s cock in his mouth. The feeling of Pest inside and around him tore a

shout from Bart.

“Fuck me,” he cried.

Pest chuckled around his cock and the slight vibration sent shivers down Bart’s spine.

More lube and fingers to stretch him further while Pest sucked on him like he was a Popsicle

in Pest’s favourite flavour. Bart entwined his hand in Pest’s flowing white hair and tugged,

asking for something, but his mind was short-circuiting and he couldn’t decide what he

wanted. He wanted Pest to fuck him, but he wanted the man to keep sucking him as well.

He whimpered and trembled. Pest let him slip from his mouth and crawled up over

Bart’s body to look him in the eye.

“Do you want me to fuck you, love? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

Bart nodded, having lost the ability to talk at some point. Possibly when Pest’s knuckles

hit his gland the last time they thrust into him. Electricity still sparked through his nerves.

“Just a moment.” Pest rocked back on his heels and opened the foil packet he’d

dropped next to Bart’s hip earlier.

Eagerly, Bart watched as Pest rolled the rubber down over his erection. Bart’s hole

fluttered at the thought of being filled with Pest’s hard flesh. Pest positioned himself at Bart’s

opening and started pushing in. Pest took it slow, but Bart didn’t want gentle. He wanted

Pest inside him as fast and as deep as possible.

“Don’t take your time, Pest. I’m fine. I want you in me now.”

Pest eyed him, trying to determine if Bart really meant what he said. Bart grabbed Pest’s

ass and jerked it towards him. His eyes rolled in his head as Pest’s cock filled him to the

point of being uncomfortable. As soon as Pest was all the way in, they froze, catching their

breath and calming down a little.

He met Pest’s fathomless black eyes and smiled. “I love you, Aldo Bianchi. I’m not

calling you Pest anymore. You’re not a Horseman in my eyes. You’re the man I love.”

Pest closed his eyes and dropped his forehead down to touch Bart’s, inhaling a shaky

breath. They stayed that way for a few minutes, the air from their lungs mingling and

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connected in the most intimate way there could be. Finally, Bart needed to move and he

wanted Pest fucking him.

“Move, baby. Make me feel you tomorrow.”

He bit his lip to keep from protesting when Pest slipped out until just the head of his

cock rested in Bart’s ass.

“Yes,” he shouted when Pest slammed back into him.

All worries and hesitation disappeared as the strokes came faster and harder, drilling

him with each thrust. He braced his hands against the headboard to keep from knocking into

it as Pest rode him like a demon. He tightened his inner muscles with each of Pest’s retreats,

enticing his lover to return quickly.

Pest gripped his hips and angled him a little more, causing Pest to nail Bart’s gland with

each push in. Pleasure sparked all along Bart’s spine, pooling at the small of his back and

drawing his balls tight to his body. He peeled one of his hands away to fist his cock, making

a tunnel for his shaft to rub through with each of Pest’s thrusts.

He made sure his grip was strong. Bart swiped his thumb over his head, pressing into

the slit, and gathering some of his pre-cum. He brought it up to his mouth, and sucked on it,

causing Pest to groan. He looked up into Pest’s dark eyes and smiled. Pest leant down and

kissed him. His lover’s tongue did an exact imitation of what they were in the middle of. Bart

broke the kiss when he couldn’t breathe any more.

As they stared into each other’s eyes, Bart found himself wanting to say something, to

tell Pest how much he loved him or something like that. One deep thrust in and Pest hit the

best spot inside Bart’s body, and Bart forgot what he wanted to say. He almost forgot how to

breathe. They moved together, perfectly in rhythm like they’d become one body.

Bart’s eyes rolled in his head while shocks raced along his spine with each solid hard

stroke of Pest’s cock inside him. He grunted and tugged on his own shaft, driving himself

closer and closer to the climax he longed for.

“I’m going to come soon,” he warned Pest.

“Good. I want you to come. I want to feel your body milking my climax from me.” Pest

pounded him, and Bart knew he’d be feeling it in the morning.

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Arching up, Bart came, shooting cum over his hand, stomach, and chest in pearly

strings. His strangled cry and massaging channel pushed Pest over the edge as well. Pest

slammed in deep once more and threw his head back, shouting as he flooded the condom.

They shook and panted, coming down from the brilliant high. Pest slumped over Bart,

bracing his body on trembling arms. Bart wrapped his arms around Pest and tugged.

“Come on. You won’t crush me.”

Pest covered him with his body and Bart lay there, listening to Pest’s breathing slow

along with his heartbeat. When they could both move again, Pest climbed off Bart, and

wandered to the bathroom. Bart curled up on his side and listened to the water run before

dozing. The dip of the mattress alerted him to Pest’s return. He murmured a protest as Pest

cleaned him up, but Pest shook his head.

“I don’t mind taking care of you,” Pest confessed before returning the cloth to the

bathroom.

Bart closed his eyes again. God, he loved the man and he would do whatever he had to

keep him, even if it meant moving back down to the Amazon and living in a hut for the rest

of his life. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that though. Maybe now that Pest had someone to

love, he wouldn’t isolate himself away from the rest of the world.

Pest climbed in under the covers and spooned with him, resting his arm over Bart’s

waist to place his hand on Bart’s chest over his heart. Bart sighed silently. They would work

out the details later. At the moment, nothing mattered except the man holding him like he

was the most important thing in the world.

Maybe it was all too fast. Maybe they didn’t know all the bad habits the other had or

quirks that would drive each other nuts, but Bart didn’t think anything like that would

matter. He knew Pest had a deep emotional need to help people, and being Pestilence hurt

him in the most profound way. If Bart could lessen Pest’s pain, then he would without

question or doubt.

“Rest, Bart. All the problems and issues will be there when you wake up.”

Pest’s muttered suggestion made Bart smile. His lover was right, and Bart was sure

they’d be getting a visit from Death soon. He wiggled closer to Pest and shut his eyes,

allowing sleep to overtake him.

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“I’m happy to see you’ve found someone to love you, Pestilence. Or maybe I should call

you Aldo.”

The deep voice woke Bart up and he flipped over to see, through the open bedroom

door, Pest and Death standing in the living room. Something was different about Pest, and

Bart blinked to clear his vision.

He got up and pulled on a pair of sweats before joining the pair in the other room.

When Pest turned to look at him, he gasped. Pest’s hair was a dark auburn, and his eyes

weren’t black anymore. They were brown with a ring of gold around the irises.

“What happened?” He went to stand next to his lover.

Pest grinned. “I woke up and went to the bathroom. When I looked at my reflection in

the mirror, this is what greeted me. This is what I looked like before I became a Horseman.”

Bart glanced at Death. “What does this mean?”

“It means Aldo is no longer the White Horseman. Love and forgiveness have freed him

of his burden.” Death’s smile held a touch of wistfulness. “You can live a normal life now

without worrying about accidentally touching anyone and giving them the plague.”

“Really?” Pest stared down at his glove-covered hands. “How do I test it out? It’s not

like I’d risk Bart’s health to see if you’re telling me the truth.”

Death frowned before snapping his fingers. “I know who you would trust, not that I

have ever lied to you.”

A blinding gold light filled the room, and when Bart’s vision cleared, Lam stood there,

arms crossed and an irritated expression on his face.

“What is it now, Death? I told you I’m not at your beck and call.”

“I need you to tell Pestilence it’s okay for him to touch Bart without gloves. He’s no

longer a Horseman. He’s human again.”

Lam turned to study Pestilence, or maybe Bart should start calling him Aldo. Surprise

sparkled in the blond’s eyes before he nodded.

“The Pale Rider is right. You are human once more, Aldo Bianchi, and can touch

anyone you want skin-to-skin, though something tells me there’s only one man you’ll be

touching a lot.” Lam winked before disappearing.

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Bart watched as Aldo removed the gloves, one finger at a time. He stepped closer to his

lover, reaching out to place his hands on Aldo’s hips. They held their breath as Aldo cupped

his face with soft, elegant fingers. He nuzzled into Aldo’s palms and exhaled softly.

The one thing he thought he would never get. It was perfect and thrilling to know Aldo

would be able to touch him like a normal person, and his lover would never have to worry

about brushing against people in crowds. Maybe with this development, they would be able

to live in the city, or at least in the civilised world.

Tears filled Aldo’s eyes and Bart kissed him, pouring all his love and happiness into the

kiss. Aldo embraced him, crushing him against his chest.

“Enjoy your new life, Aldo. Maybe I’ll see you around some time.”

A soft touch to Aldo’s shoulders and Death disappeared. Bart barely acknowledged his

leaving. He continued to kiss Aldo, slowly easing him back towards the bedroom. It was

time to make love with nothing between them.

Aldo’s pale hands stroked over his skin, savouring every dip and curve. Bart gripped

Aldo’s shoulders as they fell to the bed. Spreading his legs, he moaned into Aldo’s mouth as

their bodies pressed together. His lover slipped a hand down over his chest below his waist.

Aldo tugged on the curls at Bart’s groin before fisting his cock and pumping.

“Please, Aldo. Please let me make love to you without a rubber,” he begged.

“Of course, love. Anything you want.”

Aldo flipped onto his back, and hooked his hands behind his knees to bring them up to

his chest. Bart swallowed hard as Aldo exposed his hole for Bart.

Scrambling to find the tube of slick, he muttered, “I can’t believe this is happening. I

guess once you admitted you weren’t guilty for your family’s death, the spell holding you as

Pestilence broke and you could go back to your life.”

“Not completely back,” Aldo pointed out before grunting as Bart breached his ass with

two fingers.

“True. You can’t go back to your original life, but you can live a normal mortal life now.

You’re getting a second chance, and with your knowledge, you can save people who

wouldn’t normally be saved.”

Aldo nodded, but didn’t answer him. His lover seemed more intent on getting his

opening stretched as quickly as possible, so Bart could fuck him. After getting four fingers in

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and Aldo pleading with him to make love to him, Bart squirted some more lube into the

palm of his hand and coated his cock with it.

He settled between Aldo’s thighs and positioned his cock at Aldo’s hole. They both

breathed out as Bart pressed in, sinking balls deep without hesitation. Only when his balls hit

Aldo’s ass did he freeze. They stared at each other, seeing love shining in each other’s eyes.

Then they began to move, falling into the perfect rhythm of give and take. The added

feeling of Aldo’s soft, scarred hands exploring his body drove his desire even higher,

dragging groans of pleasure from him. His climax built until he couldn’t think straight. His

balls drew tight and his cock throbbed as he pounded into Aldo.

“I’m going to come,” he warned.

Aldo reached out and grabbed Bart’s ass, gripping it tight and helping him slam harder

into him. “Do it. I want to feel your hot cum fill my ass. I want you to claim me in the most

intimate way possible.”

At those words, Bart’s climax broke over him and he flooded Aldo’s passage with his

cum. As he rocked them together, Aldo came as well, covering their stomachs. They

shuddered and trembled until their pleasure ran its course and Bart collapsed on top of him.

When he caught his breath, Bart flopped to the side, keeping his hand on Aldo’s chest

because he didn’t want to lose contact with Aldo. A few minutes later, Aldo climbed out of

bed and wandered to the bathroom where he washed up before coming back to take care of

Bart.

Once clean, they snuggled together. Bart played with the ends of Aldo’s hair. The

colour might have changed, but the length stayed the same, making Bart happy.

“Do you have a grave for your wife and son?”

Aldo stiffened for a second before nodding. “Yes, in a small cemetery just outside of

Rome. I didn’t bury their bodies, but I bought two headstones for them.”

“I’d like to see them. Maybe lay some flowers on the stones.”

Pushing up on his elbow, Aldo looked down at him. “Why?”

Shrugging, Bart reached up and brushed some of Aldo’s hair over the man’s shoulder.

“I think it’s the right thing to do. Kind of letting Antoinette know I love you and will take

care of you for as long as we’re alive. I don’t want her to hate me when we meet up in

Heaven for stealing her husband away.”

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Aldo chuckled softly. “Antoinette wasn’t like that. She might be shocked I fell in love

with a man, but she wouldn’t hate you because you made me happy. She wouldn’t have

wanted me to live my life alone, even if it was centuries of isolation.”

“I thought so, because any woman you loved would be a kind and gentle soul. I just

want to pay tribute to the years you had with her.”

“All right. I’ll make arrangements for us to fly over there. It’s time for me to make a

visit.” Aldo paused for a second while he thought. “Maybe we could get a house over there,

in Tuscany or some place. I miss my country.”

“I’m more than willing to do that. I might take a sabbatical from the university and

write some papers on my discovery. Maybe I’ll even let you take me back to the Amazon and

we’ll discover some more plants to help with medicines.”

Aldo appeared to think about it. A bright smile broke over the man’s face and Bart

wrapped his arms around Aldo’s waist, bringing him down to kiss him.

“I’m willing to do anything as long as you’re beside me,” he confessed.

“And it’s the same with me, love.” Aldo brushed a kiss over his forehead. “Let’s get

some sleep. We have to go back to the hospital tomorrow.”

Bart frowned. “I thought we were done there.”

“We were, but I have a few more notes to drop off for Darvi. I’d forgotten them here

this morning.” Aldo yawned, dropping down to cuddle close.

“All right,” he agreed.

They drifted off to sleep, embracing each other tightly.

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Chapter Eleven

“Bartholomew, you really are here. I thought I’d dreamt you.” Jasper’s smile was

bright, but his expression was slightly dismayed.

“I bet you wished I was a dream,” Bart commented as he took the chair next to Jasper’s

bed.

It had been several weeks since Bart and Aldo had brought the herbs to Dr Darvi and

his team. The doctors were able to distil a working medicine from it and had started giving it

to Jasper and the others. Within a day, they started to feel better and the fevers went down,

along with the lesions disappearing. Today was the first day Jasper felt good enough to talk

to Bart. Bart and Aldo returned to Washington to visit the patients.

“Why’d you leave me in the jungle? I thought we were lovers and, even if we were just

fuck buddies, I thought you’d treat me better than that.” He folded his arms over his chest

and leant back in his chair, glaring at Jasper.

Jasper dropped his gaze and plucked at the blanket covering him to his waist. “I’m

sorry, Bart. I guess possible fame and prestige got the better of me and I wasn’t thinking. If I

had known you were sick, I wouldn’t have left you at all. I swear.”

“So you thought you’d take the credit all for yourself. What were you going to do with

the other three? Or had they agreed to give you the credit for some kind of monetary

compensation?”

The red flush on Jasper’s cheeks weren’t from a fever. Bart had hit a nerve.

“You would have gotten posthumous credit.” Jasper shot Bart a quick glance before he

looked away. “And just so you know, the others didn’t really want to leave you, but they

figured it would work out. You’d come back after we’d revealed what we found.”

“You mean what I found. I can’t believe this. You fucked me to convince me to go on

this stupid trip, but when it came down to it, you couldn’t even include me in any glory. I

was just a dupe for you.”

“No. I planned on naming the flower after you to honour you.”

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“Yeah, but I wouldn’t have gotten the money and prestige you would have gotten if I

wasn’t there.” Bart reached out and tapped Jasper’s knee. “It was all my work that found the

plant for you. You were going to publish my notes and research and put your name on

them.”

Jasper started to sputter, trying to come up with some excuse, but Bart wasn’t buying

any of it.

“Thank God I had the good luck to stumble across Dr Bianchi. He nursed me back to

health. In addition to that, he managed to figure out what medicine would work to heal your

sorry ass.” Bart grinned. “I also wanted to let you know I gave all my notes to Dr Kakkar and

he’s going over them now. I should have a paper to present to the scientific community

within a month or so. I’ll be sure to mention your name when I do.”

His former lover heaved a heavy sigh. “I guess I shouldn’t pitch a fit, huh? At least I’m

still alive.”

“That’s the spirit, Jasper. You can always go back to the jungle and see if you can find

something else no one else has. Or maybe they’ll name this disease after you. At least you’ll

be remembered forever for something.” He grinned. “Should I tell you I plan on returning to

the Amazon to see if I can’t find more undiscovered plants that might have some kind of

medicinal value?”

“Bart, are you ready to go?”

He turned to see Aldo standing a few feet away. Bart hid his smile with a cough. Aldo

had made it very obvious he didn’t like Jasper and wanted nothing to do with Bart’s former

lover. Aldo frowned at Jasper.

“Yes, I am. Just tying up a few loose ends.” Bart stood and started to turn towards Aldo.

“Oh by the way, Jasper, I’d like you to meet Dr Aldo Bianchi. You might recognise his name.

He was the man who found me in the rainforest and the one you have to thank for getting

better. He’s also the man who’s going to help me continue the research I started down in the

jungle.”

Jasper held out his hand. “Dr Bianchi, it’s an honour to meet you.”

Aldo tucked his hands in his pockets. “Sorry. Too many germs out there and working

as an infectious disease doctor tends to make me even more paranoid.”

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Bart shook his head, yet didn’t say anything. Aldo had been doing better about not

freaking out without gloves on, but after centuries of worrying and watching, he couldn’t

quite change the long ingrained habits. It was an excuse not to have to touch Jasper though.

The only person he never hesitated to touch was Bart, and it warmed Bart inside to know

Aldo loved him that much.

Jasper let his hand drop to the bed. “Of course, I understand.”

“We’re heading back to Harvard. Maybe we’ll see you around.” Bart inclined his head

to Jasper and left, not looking back.

“Did you get some closure from talking to him?” Aldo placed his hand at the small of

Bart’s back.

Bart nodded. “Yes, I did. I guess I just needed to confront him face-to-face about why he

left me. I knew he did it for the recognition, but it still hurts slightly to hear him try and deny

it.”

“It doesn’t matter now. You’ll get all the acclaim you deserve and you get me. What

more could you ask for?” Aldo winked at him.

He chuckled. “How long do we have before we have to be at the airport?”

“Just enough time to drive there. Checking in should be quick since I chartered a

private flight for us to Italy.”

“You did, huh? It’s nice being the boy toy for a rich man.” Bart winked at Aldo.

“It’s amazing how much money you can make when you’ve lived several hundred

years. I also had a realtor line up several houses in Tuscany for us to look at while we’re over

there.”

They climbed into the limo waiting outside the hospital and settled on the backseat.

Aldo fell silent for a few minutes. His lover had something on his mind. He’d tell Bart when

he was ready.

“You’re a resident of Massachusetts, right?”

The direction of the enquiry became clear to Bart when he glanced up to see Aldo

holding a box in his hand.

“Yes,” he forced through a suddenly closed throat.

“Would you do me the honour of accepting my proposal of marriage?”

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Aldo’s rather formal speech screamed how nervous he was. If Bart wanted to make

Aldo twist for a little bit, he’d hem and haw, but his excitement wouldn’t let him torture the

poor man.

“Yes. God, yes!”

He threw his arms around Aldo, pitching them back against the door as they kissed.

Aldo laughed against his lips, but didn’t break their embrace until Bart’s lungs begged for

air.

Leaning back, he smiled up at Aldo. “I can’t say this was the most conventional

courtship in the history of the world.”

“At times you have to let fate take a hand in things.” Aldo kissed him again, hard and

fast.

“You’re right, love. Who knew a virulent unknown disease could be the beginning of a

love affair?” Bart held up his hand to let Aldo slip the ring on his finger.

Aldo leaned closer. “Well, when you fall in love with Pestilence, it makes sense.”

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Epilogue

“Are you telling us there is a way for us to become human again?” War glared at Death.

“And you knew about this all along?”

Death didn’t look at the Red Horseman. He kept his gaze off into the distance, ignoring

the swirling desert sands and blinding sunlight of the war-stricken country they stood in. He

watched for the flicker of life, for the moment the new Horseman joined them.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.” War dropped a heavy hand on Death’s shoulder.

Looking down at the hand, he stared until War removed it. He met War’s accusatory

gaze and nodded.

“There must always be four Horsemen. The balance between good and evil must be

maintained and that’s what we are here for. Yet you can still return to what you once were, if

you find the right person to love you.” He shrugged and returned to studying the horizon.

“I’ve known about it, but I never thought it was true until Aldo fell in love with

Bartholomew and changed back to what he was before he became a Horseman. I thought it

was just a legend, or carrot given to us to keep us from giving up completely.”

“Now he’s human again and living with some man in Boston with a second house in

Tuscany? How quaint,” War sneered.

“Don’t think bad of them. Wait until it happens to you, because it will, War. You won’t

know what hit you when you meet the person you love.” Death thought back to the man he

loved and all the things he did for him. Things that ended with him killing a nobleman and

becoming Death, the fourth Horseman.

“I’ve never been in love. Have no interest in doing so either.” War grunted with

disgust. “Caring for someone only means they have the strength to hurt and betray you.”

Death glanced over at the other Horseman, hearing the sourness of bitter memories in

his voice.

“Maybe, but be happy for Aldo. He’s found forgiveness and allowed himself to accept

it. Something you might not be able to do.”

“I might not be able? What about you?”

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“Since I feel no guilt for what I did, I can’t ask forgiveness for my actions.”

A beacon of light flashed in the distance and he exhaled sharply. The white stallion

standing next to him neighed loudly and took off, racing towards the person standing where

the light had been.

“It starts anew,” War murmured.

“Yes, but remember, there is hope if you chose to look for it.”

Death simply nodded at War and motioned for his own pale stallion to approach. He

mounted and headed towards the new White Horseman, resigned to answering all the

questions and helping the confused human understand who he’d become.

At times, being Death was far more difficult than people would believe.

About the Author

There is beauty in every kind of love, so why not live a life without boundaries?
Experiencing everything the world offers fascinates TA and writing about the things
that make each of us unique is how she shares those insights. TA lives in the Midwest
with a wonderful partner of fourteen years. When not writing, she’s watching movies,
reading and living life to the fullest.

Email:

[e-mail]

T.A. Chase loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website
and author biography at

http://www.total-e-bound.com

.

Also by T.A. Chase

Out of Light, Into Darkness

(with Carol Lynne)

Dracul’s Revenge: Dracul’s Blood

Dracul’s Revenge: Anarchy in Blood

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