Breath Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue: Now

  Part One THE MÖBIUS STRIP

  Xander

  Death

  Xander

  Death

  Xander

  Death

  Xander

  Death

  Part Two THE BEGINNING OF THE END

  Death

  Xander

  Famine

  Xander

  Pestilence

  Xander

  War

  Death

  Xander

  Part Three BITTERNESS

  Death

  Xander

  Death

  Xander

  Death

  Xander

  Part Four INTERVENTION

  War

  Pestilence

  Famine

  Part Five THE BOY WITH THE CHOCOLATE

  Xander

  Death

  Xander

  Death

  Xander

  The Atwoods

  Death

  Xander

  Xander

  Death

  Xander

  Part Six INTERLUDE

  Bill

  Missy

  Bill

  Missy

  Bill

  Missy

  Tammy

  Death

  Part Seven CREATION

  Xander

  The Atwoods

  Author’s Note

  Read More from the Riders of the Apocalypse Series

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2013 by Jackie Morse Kessler

  All rights reserved. For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to Permissions, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company, 215 Park Avenue South, New York, New York 10003.

  Graphia and the Graphia logo are registered trademarks of Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company.

  www.hmhbooks.com

  The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:

  Kessler, Jackie Morse.

  Breath / Jackie Morse Kessler.

  p.cm—(Riders of the Apocalypse; 4)

  Summary: “In the fourth and final volume of the Riders of Apocalypse series, high school senior Xander Atwood has a secret. Death, the Pale Rider, has lost his way. What happens when the two meet will change the fate of the world”—Provided by publisher.

  ISBN 978-0-547-97043-1

  [1. Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse—Fiction.] I. Title.

  PZ7.K4835Br 2013

  [Fic]—dc23

  2012023509

  eISBN 978-0-544-03563-8

  v1.0413

  If you’ve ever had your trust broken so badly

  You asked yourself, “What’s the point?”

  Then this book is for you.

  Acknowledgments

  So many people made this book possible, in so many different ways, and I’m grateful to all of them.

  To Julie Tibbott and the entire Houghton Mifflin Harcourt team: Thank you for your vision and your support.

  To Sammy Yuen: Your work never ceases to amaze me—thank you for the wonderful covers.

  To Miriam Kriss: Best literary agent ever! Thank you for your ongoing enthusiasm, advice, and encouragement. (And, you know, for selling my stuff!)

  To Shalaena, the grand-prize winner of the Loss contest: I hope you like how I used the name you chose.

  To Kevin Hearne: Thanks for being so awesome and letting me write Perry’s final scene. Nothing like a little bit of meta to kick things off!

  To Matt Krain: Years ago, you gave me permission to use one of the best lines I’d ever heard. I finally found the right place for that line. Thank you so much!

  To the awesome people at my dojang: You’re all fantastic! Here’s to Team Not Dead Yet (and Team Not Yet Not Dead Yet). And a special hat-tip to Kimber and Chuck Coler, who gave me permission to use a terrific line. Thank you!

  To Ty Drago: For more reasons than I could ever name, thank you, thank you, thank you.

  To Renee Barr: For Girls’ Day Out and so much more, you’re the best. Thank you—twenty-five years of thank you! (My God!)

  To Ryan and Mason: You’re the most phenomenal Tax Deductions in the world!

  To Brett: Always, forever. It’s all good, love—and that’s because of you. (Cue sappy music!)

  And to all of the readers who have written and shared so much: Thank you for everything. You’re amazing, each and every one of you. Now go thee out unto the world—rock on!

  Prologue: Now

  Xander Atwood hated heights. Always had. Ever since he was a kid and chickened out of jumping off the high diving board at the community pool ​— ​much to the irritation of the kids behind him, who had to make way as he climbed down the ladder, shamefaced ​— ​Xander staunchly preferred for the ground to be within easy reach. Going to the top floor of buildings was fine, as long as it wasn’t in one of those funky glass-walled elevators. Driving over bridges gave him fits. Airplanes were right out. Let others soar with the eagles; Xander was perfectly content with an ant’s-eye view.

  So the fact that he was leaning over the balcony railing of his parents’ apartment building, thirty floors above the street, was a very big deal.

  “So,” he said. “Want to talk about it?”

  “Not really,” replied Death.

  Part One

  THE MÖBIUS STRIP

  Möbius strip: a one-sided surface that is constructed from a rectangle by holding one end fixed, rotating the opposite end through 180 degrees, and joining it to the first end.

  —Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary

  A sound, like the screech of tires—or maybe the boom of a door slamming shut. Impact, then echoes of contact, then nothing.

  And then, a beep.

  And another.

  And again, until the beeping became an insistent shrill.

  And then . . .

  Xander

  Xander Atwood woke with a start. He inhaled quickly, as if he’d forgotten that he’d been holding his breath, and he swatted his alarm clock until he hit the Off button. The shrilling beep stopped midshriek. An echo lingered, weighing the air with frantic urgency, but it quickly faded until all Xander heard was the soft, electric hum of the clock. He exhaled slowly, then grinned. Today was the big day.

  He was finally going to ask Riley out.

  Xander hopped out of bed and ducked into the shower. As he shampooed, he went over the plan: During fifth period, when they were both in the library for study hall, he’d casually mention that he was going to grab some pizza after school, and maybe Riley would like to join him. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t exactly a date, but it was a start.

  All Xander had to do was not vomit all over his sneakers, then he’d be set.

  No problem. He’d be fine. Calm. Cool. Not at all freaked out from the thought of talking to Riley Jones.

  His belly flipped.

  Maybe he shouldn’t eat breakfast, just in case.

  Five minutes later, he was grabbing his clothing. Definitely the royal blue T-shirt, the one that made the blue in his eyes pop. He’d heard Riley mention in passing that there’s nothing better than gorgeous eyes, so Xander wanted to play that up. His friend Ted would bust a gut if he knew that Xander was obsessing over what to wear, but hey, Ted wasn’t the one who was going to be asking Riley out for pizza.

  Which Xander would absolutely not be too nervous to eat.

  He got dressed, then looked in the mirror and frowned at the fresh crop of pimples on his brow. Thank God for long hair. Xander busted out the gel and spent ten minutes workin
g on his hair until he got it to that perfect style, the one that looked like he spent no time on his hair and also managed to hide the zits.

  He could practically hear Ted’s guffaws as he told Xander that he was being such a girl. Of course Ted would say that; he never worried about anything. Ted was strictly a play-it-by-ear sort of guy, whereas Xander liked to plan his spontaneity. Could he help it if he had a thing for details?

  Xander glanced at the clock. He had about five minutes before he had to leave, twenty if he didn’t want to stop at Dawson’s for coffee before school. More than enough time for him to practice his smile.

  Yikes—way too much tooth.

  He tried again. Now he looked like he was constipated.

  Third time was the charm. Smiling his winning smile, he launched into his Asking-Riley-Out-But-Not-Really question. After a few tries, he thought he nailed the inflection, making it sound like he was interested but not too interested. He figured Riley would answer in one of four ways.

  Scenario 1: All Goes Well

  XANDER: Hey, Riley, I’m gonna grab some pizza after school. Want to come?

  RILEY: Sure! Hey—are you wearing contacts, or are your eyes really that blue?

  Scenario 2: Delayed Gratification

  XANDER: Hey, Riley, I’m gonna grab some pizza after school. Want to come?

  RILEY: Thanks, wish I could, but I can’t today. I’ve got track.

  XANDER: Maybe another time.

  RILEY: That would be great. Hey—are you wearing contacts, or are your eyes really that blue?

  Scenario 3: Could Be Worse Somehow

  XANDER: Hey, Riley, I’m gonna grab some pizza after school. Want to come?

  RILEY: No.

  Scenario 4: Kill Me Now

  XANDER: Hey, Riley, I’m gonna grab some pizza after school. Want to come?

  RILEY: . . . Sorry, do I know you?

  He thought those possibilities covered the bases. Even though part of him was terrified that Riley would opt for either scenario 3 or 4—thus the potential for puking—the rest of him focused on having a 50 percent chance of either scenario 1 or 2 coming to pass. Fifty-fifty: That was a flip of a coin.

  He spotted his pile of change on his nightstand, and he plucked a bright penny from the top of the heap.

  “Heads,” he said, then tossed the coin high. He caught it, slapped it onto the back of his hand, and took a look.

  Heads.

  He flipped it again. Heads.

  Once more for good luck—and again, it was heads.

  Grinning like a fool, Xander pocketed the coin. Yeah, today was the day. His lucky day. He felt it.

  He stuffed his backpack for the day’s classload: his evil math textbook, massive enough to be a doorstopper; his equally massive but less evil philosophy textbook; his sketchbook, along with his set of pencils and two erasers; his overstuffed, overworked looseleaf binder. Finally, he plucked a novel off his nightstand—Gaiman and Pratchett’s Good Omens, which he was rereading for the gazillionth time—and jammed it into his backpack. He grabbed his wallet and his phone, made sure he had his keys, and then he quietly headed down the hall. Xander took pains to walk softly, because he didn’t want to wake his mom; she hadn’t been sleeping well since her very pregnant belly had started entering a room before the rest of her. He didn’t worry about waking his dad; that man slept like the dead. Then Xander was out the door and on his way.

  The entire time he walked to Dawson’s Pizza, he played and replayed the possible scenarios of him (kinda sorta not really) asking Riley out. By the time he got to the pizzeria—open for breakfast starting at the crack of dawn—he was feeling thoroughly nauseated. What if Riley laughed at him? Or worse: What if Riley pitied him?

  What if the answer wasn’t just No, but Hell No?

  He squeezed the penny in his pocket and told himself to stop worrying. Today was his lucky day.

  He walked into Dawson’s and waved to a handful of guys clumped around tables, but the group he was looking for was off in the corner by the window, basking in the morning spotlight. There was Ted, darkly casual, all lean good looks and radiating mischief, smiling wickedly as he tried to steal a homefry. Across from him, petite Suzie slapped his hand away and stuck out her tongue. Next to her, Izzy laughed and shook her head, her sloppy ponytail swinging across her shoulders.

  Xander grinned. The table changed daily, but the group was always the same: the four of them, kicking off the school day at the pizzeria. Life was good. He bought a large coffee and a breakfast special, then headed over to join them.

  “Hey,” he said as he slid onto the bench next to Ted.

  “Hey,” said Ted and Izzy.

  “Morning, Zan,” Suzie said around a yawn.

  “Boring you already?”

  “Sorry. Up all night studying. Got a constitutional law test, and then debate team after school.”

  Xander grinned. “I’m sure you’re gonna do great when you fall asleep in the middle of proving your point. Ow.” That last was after Suzie kicked him.

  “That’s why I don’t study,” said Izzy. “I need my rest.”

  “You girls and your beauty sleep,” Ted said, grinning big enough to blind.

  Izzy smiled sweetly. “Don’t make me kick your ass before breakfast.”

  “You soccer girls are all so scary.”

  “I wanna be scary,” Suzie said with a pout.

  “Your GPA terrifies me,” said Xander, sipping coffee. “Hey!”

  Ted flashed him that blinding grin, then took a bite from half of Xander’s breakfast-special sandwich.

  “He’s practicing to be a starving actor,” Suzie said, glaring at Ted.

  “Not so starving.” Xander took a bite of his remaining sandwich. “I licked the bagel on that side, by the way.”

  “Knew it tasted off this morning,” Ted said around a mouthful of special. “Here I thought it was because they don’t use real eggs in the egg sandwiches.”

  Izzy snorted. “That’s what you get for ordering eggs in a pizzeria.”

  “Someone should tell management they need to do pizza for breakfast.”

  “Egg pizza?”

  Suzie made a face. “Ew. Hey, nice shirt, Zan. Makes your eyes real blue.”

  “Thanks,” Xander said happily.

  “Okay,” Ted said. “You look like you’re about to burst into song. What’s up?”

  Xander grinned hugely. “Today’s the day,” he said, feeling like he could fly. “I’m gonna ask Riley out.”

  Ted, Izzy, and Suzie exchanged a look, then the three of them cracked up.

  “What?” Xander said, perturbed. “I am. Really.”

  “Even if I believed you, which, for the record, I don’t,” said Suzie, “your timing is terrible.”

  “Why?”

  Izzy laughed. “You really don’t know? Riley’s got mono.”

  Xander’s heart sank to his toes. “Aw, man.”

  “You’re such a bad stalker,” Izzy said, wagging a finger at him. “It was all over Facebook this morning.”

  “That explains why he didn’t know,” said Suzie. “Love you, Zan, but you’re social-networkly inept.”

  Ted was still chuckling. “Kissing disease. Good thing you haven’t asked Riley out yet, or you’d be down for the count too. Oh, wait, no you wouldn’t—you’d never kiss the Amazingly Perfect Riley Jones.”

  “He’d be too busy worshiping the very ground the Amazingly Perfect Riley Jones walks on,” Suzie agreed.

  “Too amazingly perfect for him to ever ask out,” said Ted.

  “Ah, it’s just the universe’s way of telling me to wait,” said Xander, sighing.

  Ted snorted. “Spoken like the deluded lovestruck fool that you are!”

  “The universe doesn’t need to tell you anything,” said Suzie, nibbling a homefry. “You’ve waited for . . . how many years now? Two? Three? You’ve got the waiting thing down pat.”

  “Seriously,” said Izzy. “Just ask Riley out already. You kno
w, once the whole mono thing is history.”

  Ted nodded. “What they said.”

  “I will.” Xander took the penny out of his pocket and flipped it. It came up heads. “I swear it on my lucky penny.”

  Ted declared, “All hail the lucky penny!”

  They all said, “All hail!”

  Xander grinned and took another bite of breakfast. “So today’s not the day,” he said, tucking the penny into his pocket. “That’s okay. I’ve got time.”

  Death

  “But I need more time! There’s so much I still have to do!”

  Like he’d never heard that one before. “Sorry, Perry,” he said. “This is what you get. But hey, you’ve done a lot with your life in the time that you’ve had.”

  Perry—or, more accurately, the essence that most recently had been Perry Thomas—stared at him for a moment, then shook his head and sighed. “I guess. If you say so.”

  “I do,” he said cheerfully.

  “Aw, man.” Perry looked down at his body, which was sprawled on the ground just outside the bookshop where he worked. “At least it happened before the store opened. The customers would’ve totally freaked, what with me having a heart attack right there in front of them. That’s what it was, right? My heart?”

  “In the end,” he said, “it always comes down to heart failure, one way or another.”

  “Yeah, I can see that. Man, Kevin is gonna lose it.” Perry sighed again. “He’ll find me dead on the ground, and he’ll absolutely lose it.”

  “Kevin is a strong guy. He’ll be fine.”

  Perry darted a look at him. “You know him?”

  “I know everyone.”

  “Oh.” Perry looked back at his corpse. “Wish I could’ve done more with my life.”

  “There’s much for you to be proud of. Your life impacted many others. The stories you’ve told to your customers, and sold to your customers, left impressions that became inspirations. And the homemade herbal teas you sold to them have comforted many.”