The Horde Without End (The World Without End) (19 page)

I stare at him blankly. “Not finding Collin isn’t an option.”

“But you must understand that he could be dead. That there are no guarantees.”

I pick at the chain around my neck, lifting the tiny vial so that it hangs between us.

“You know what this is?”

He looks uncomfortable, but he nods. Of course he nods. He knows, just as well as anyone—we are children of this world, after all.

“This was my first boyfriend. Dustin. Collin was with him. So yes. I know—I’m aware of the lack of promises and that even when people make them, they can’t be kept. I know that Collin could be dead. But I won’t quit looking. Finn won’t quit looking. Do you understand that as long as there is hope—as long as there is no dead body—we’ll keep looking?”

“So you’ll leave with him. That’s what you’re saying,” Kendall says quietly. He’s staring at me, a little too hard for my comfort. I sigh and toy with my wine glass.

“Yes. Because I trust O’Malley to find Collin.”

Kendall’s eyebrows go up at that, and I shrug. “You don’t have to understand or agree with me, Kendall. I don’t really expect you to. But I know why I’m staying near him.”

“He’s ruthless.”

“He’s also effective,” I say, my voice even. I shake my head. “We could argue all night about this. But Finn is a non-negotiable. I might have my own issues with the man, but he’s who I’ve trusted to find my brother. You can accept that or you can not, but it won’t change. So,”—I lift my glass, and arch an eyebrow—“why don’t we enjoy what’s left of the evening?”

Kendall smiles, and if it seems a bit thin, I can understand that. I’m don’t expect him to like my stance. I just expect him to back off his attack.

A server approaches with our dinner, and I stare at the red meat. Juice is swirling around the plate, too fast. My head spins, and I feel my stomach lurch dangerously.

“You gave her too much,” a voice says.

“Shut up,” Kendall answers. I look up and see him, still staring. His gaze is clinical, and that is more disturbing than anything else.

I forgot. For just a few seconds, I forgot, and how fucking stupid is that?

“She won’t do the Priestess any good if she’s dead.”

“I said shut
up,
” Kendall says, snarling now. I try to stand, and the room sways drunkenly. My lips are too thick, and my voice comes out garbled when I try to speak. It doesn’t make sense—nothing makes sense.

Finn.

Oh god, I forgot his warning. How stupid can I possibly be, that I would forget it, even knowing?

“Sacrifice,” I gasp. Surprise flares on Kendall’s face, and he laughs as the world tilts away. A tunnel of black wraps around me as I fall.

“She’s a smart little bitch. Go ahead. Get it done.”

Something slams into my head. Pain explodes through me. I fall into the dark.

My mouth is dry when I wake up. My mouth is dry, and my head feels like it’s about to fall off. It doesn’t ache—it literately feels like it will separate from my body and roll across the fucking floor, and I almost wish it would.

I can’t see anything.

An unfamiliar voice murmurs, “She’s awake, sir.”

I hear a soft shuffle, and then, “How did you know?”

I almost scream, but I manage to keep the noise from escaping. The pain is too fierce, roaring through me, and I whimper, curling onto my bare legs. The silk of my dress is almost obscene now. “How,” Kendall’s voice, disembodied and too loud, repeats.

“I watched her die, you sick fuck,” I gasp, and he laughs. The bastard actually fucking laughs at me.

“He actually took you to the Stronghold.”

“Finn will murder you for this—slowly,” I hiss.

“Finn has wanted me dead for years, Nurrin. And yet I’m alive. I’m alive and powerful while he wanders from Haven to Haven, and no one fucking cares. No one remembers that he was a hero—they only remember his mother started the apocalypse.”

“Fuck you, Buchman. Your hands are just as fucking bloody.”

The lights flare, and I do scream, pain lancing through me, exploding in my head. I clamp my eyes shut, willing the pain away, tears squeezing down my cheeks, until spots form behind my closed eyelids and everything fades away.

The lights are on when I come to. Kendall is sitting in the corner of the room, on the only piece of furniture—a hard-backed chair. There’s a small file in his hands. I lick my lips. I’m thirsty. So thirsty. I wonder how long I’ve been out this time.

“What did you give me?”

“Cocktail we give all sacrifices,” he says, not bothering to look up. “I’ve known about you for a while, Nurrin. When Priest Matthew came here with Collin, I knew it was only a matter of time before you would come here with Finn. We were prepared. I’ll admit, though—I didn’t expect you to be so reminiscent of Kelsey. That startled me.”

“It’s kind of sick, you know,” I say, conversational. Kendall finally looks up, an eyebrow raised. “That your sister’s look-alike is such a turn on.”

Amusement flickers in his eyes, but he doesn’t argue with my assessment.

“What happens now?” I demand.

“Now? We wait for the Reds. They won’t be long,” he says, a smile playing on his lips.

“Why do you do this?” Nothing is making sense, he’s spinning, and I frown, trying to make the world settle. Why is everything spinning? “Why are you working with the Order? What’s in it for you?”

Kendall smiles. “I’m president, Nurrin. Who do you suppose made that happen? You don’t really believe a bunch of war heroes decided a boy who has never Walked would make a good president.”

I throw up, suddenly, and he sighs. “I hate this part.” He stands, and I listen to his footsteps recede as the world twists around me.

Not long is a relative term. Kendall doses me with the cocktail of drugs four times, and each time, I do the same cycle—blinding pain, burning thirst, and a disorientation. Long stretches of time are lost. I wake screaming, my throat raw and sore.

In my rare moments of lucidity, I focus on Finn. He knows—by now, he must know. He’ll find me.

What is the only thing that matters?

When I drift on pain and scream through the delusions of disorientation, I can’t remember why I think he’ll come. The guards change, and I see Kendall less frequently. Sometimes I wake sore, finding bruises I can’t account for.

Why hasn’t he found me? Where the fuck is he?

We fought. We fought, and he left—maybe he’s decided that he’s had enough. Maybe he’s left me and 1 behind, washed his hands of Collin.

I’ll keep you alive. I’ll keep Collin safe.

Where is he?

Finn once said hope is the great lie. It’s what we used to rally. What kept humanity going when we should have laid down and accepted our fate. I wonder if that is true.

I don’t have hope. I don’t need it. I have knowledge. It may take time, and I might hate every moment of the wait, but Finn will come. He will find me—and when he does, he’ll wash these rooms in blood.

Hope doesn’t keep me alive. Faith in him does—and the burning desire to see every last one of my tormentors dead.

Something is different when I wake the sixth time. The pain is gone—but I’m not thirsty, and the only thing that moves is the ground, a steady sway.

I’m being moved.

I shiver and shift in the room. Or whatever the hell it is that I’m in. Tentatively, I reach out and touch the walls. Cool metal, vibrating slightly.

“What the hell,” I murmur.

“It’s a train.”

The voice is weak and tired, thin with exhaustion, hoarse. But it jerks me around, so fast I hear my neck pop. The room is dark, but light flickers from overhead occasionally—a thin gap in the roof. I catch the occasional glimpse of him, and my breath catches in my throat. A sob works its way up, and Collin gives me a wry smile. “Come here, idiot.”

I make a noise, and his face spasms, and then I’m across the small space, buried in his arms. And I’m crying—all the tears I haven’t shed, all the ones I didn’t cry over him when I first realized he was missing, or when I found Dustin dead.

“Hush, shhh.” Collin shifts me so I’m resting against one arm, petting my hair awkwardly as he lets me cry myself out. And I do. For so long that I lose track of time. My eyes feel puffy, and my nose hurts, but I finally look back at him and give him a watery smile. “Where are we going? Where’s Finn?”

Hope flares across his face. “You were with Finn? What happened?”

I blink. “Wait—Collin, where are we?”

“Where is O’Malley?” he demands.

“1,” I say, my lips numb. I feel empty, hallowed out from crying and the sudden crash of knowledge.

I knew Finn would come for me. I knew he would find Collin. So to have one, without the other—it’s unfathomable. But it’s my reality. “Where are we?”

“The Order has us, Ren. I don’t know where they’re taking us.”

Which means…I shift, away from Collin.

“He lied,” I whisper.

“About what?”

I can’t answer. Everything from the past few days is crashing over me, every moment I lay, drugged and hurt, believing that he would find me.

“Why did you ever trust him?” I demand, furious suddenly.

“Because there is very little in the world that he wouldn’t do to keep you—and me—safe,” Collin says softly. There is something off about his voice, something in those words that I can’t quite fathom.

I turn to look at him, put my hand down. He flinches, and everything freezes inside me.

“Collin?” I whisper, a little girl begging for reassurance. He shifts, and I can feel tears burning in my eyes. I don’t want to see this—I shake my head, and he laughs, that hoarse noise that is so off.

“How many weapons do you have?” he asks.

Not enough. Not for this. Not a gun.

“Where? How?”

He grunts, and I look behind me. It’s lying on the other side of the train car, rank and rotten.

I can’t bear to look at it, so I turn away. Light flashes above us again, illuminating the truth.

His leg is mangled, a mess of bloody bite marks.

I’ve found him, and it’s not fair, because I’m not ready for this, I’m not ready to do this. Not again.

Not ever.

“Don’t hide from it, Ren,” he says, and I hear Finn in his voice, disgusted with my dissembling.

I take a deep breath and stare.

Collin’s been bitten. My brother is going to turn.

The End.

This is always—always—the hardest part of writing my books. So here we go:

The Indie Ignites, who always make me laugh and whom I adore, and the New Adult Author Ignite, which has been such a huge help to me. I love the discussions we have and learning from y’all.

The bloggers who have loved my zombies—especially Holly, who is still terrified of them, but got behind this little book anyway. To all of the amazing bloggers who participated in my tour and blitz—I adore you. Each and every one of you.

Hailey, who keeps me sane IRL, and babysits when I’m behind on a deadline.

My amazing team, who makes me look good: Rae, who cussed over the ending, and Mel who gave Finn such a pretty back of the head, and Chantee who makes the formatting look freaking awesome. Jessica, for being such a rockstar when it comes getting the books out there.

My husband, who tolerates my fascination with zombies and words with the patience of a saint, and my gorgeous daughters, who really want me to write about a superhero. Soon, ladies.

This book would not have been possible without the encouragement I got from readers. Every week— several times a week—readers have tweeted and emailed and facebooked me, demanding to know when the next book would be out, and to tell me what they thought of Finn and Nurrin. That has been so amazing—each and every time, I’ve grinned and bounced a bit. I’m so happy y’all love my little zombie book as much as I do.

New adult is a developing category, and for the most part is college romance. But there is so much room for growth in our little category, and each time I see one of y’all reading this world, it gives me hope that it is growing. And that is wonderful. Thank you for reading, lovelies.

N~

Nazarea Andrews is an avid reader and tends to write the stories she wants to read. She loves chocolate and coffee almost as much as she loves books, but not quite as much as she loves her kids. She lives in south Georgia with her husband, daughters, and overgrown dog

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