Chapter 20

CHAPTER TWENTY

CAT

T here was no dignity in the way I woke up the next morning, my head pounding thanks to the bottle of tequila Honey and I split last night, my face covered in dried drool, and the shirt Miz left behind in the mausoleum stuck to my body. Night sweats were fucking awful.

I groaned, shuffling out of bed and gathering clean clothes, a shower on my mind, and for a second, I forgot my best friend was dead and my brother was Nightmare's captive. For a second all I thought about was the way Death had covered my body with his, looking at me like I was the only person in the whole world, and the way Misery's voice had rasped when he called me his everything, his universe.

"Ugh," I groaned when I saw the sticky notes Honey had stuck on my TV last night, hastily pulling them down and glad none of the gods had decided to show up unannounced. Fuchsia notes with bold permanent marker winked at me.

HOT GOD GUYS (first note)

CAT WANTS YOUR (second note)

MASSIVE DINGDONGS (third note.)

She'd had to write the first note three times because she kept writing HOTDOG GUYS, and I kept snorting tequila.

"Oh," I muttered, "that's why my nose burns."

A smile tugged at my cheeks until I saw the half-eaten packet of popcorn on my floor, and everything rushed back with the force of a storm. Popcorn was Byron's favourite.

My eyes welled with tears, any amusement I'd had withering as I stared at that bag of popcorn. It would never have been half-eaten if By was here. He'd have devoured it before Honey or I could get a single piece.

I sank to my knees and clutched the bag to my chest as the tears finally burst free.

"You should be here," I choked out. "You should be here, By."

No matter what he'd done, he was my best friend. I wasn't sure I forgave him, and I knew that made me a hypocrite, but I missed him. I missed him more with every day, until it was a tangle of thorns in my chest, gouging my heart deeper every time the sun rose on another day without him.

Mostly, I was angry at him for leaving me.

I wanted to see him, to hug him, to punch his stupid, lovable face and yell at him for shutting us out when he needed us the most.

It occurred to me that I could do that. If Darya was walking around as a ghost, then maybe… maybe I could find Byron. Maybe he was in Death's domain.

I showered and got dressed quickly, folding Miz's shirt and placing it lovingly in my wardrobe. I wasn't too proud to admit I'd probably sleep in it tonight, too.

By the time I reached the ground floor, it was nine a.m. and the dining hall was in full swing. A loud hum of voices came from the room, so I kept walking. I wasn't in the right mood to be around people, and they'd only ask why I was crying or if I was okay anyway.

My best friend is dead, and no I'm not okay.

I regretted not seeing Honey, though. I wanted to check on her after last night. Was her head pounding as furiously as mine? She drank two thirds of the bottle and followed it down with shots of a red alcohol I couldn't even identify. I'd taken one sniff, seared my nose hairs off, and passed.

I hesitated with my finger over the call button on my phone. I hated the poison that slid through my mind but I couldn't help it.

Anyone can take one look at you two and see you're bringing her down. Honey's beautiful and smart and free, and you're like a black hole sucking all her happiness away.

I didn't want to admit that he was right. Honey was sunshine and I was the moon—light and dark at turns but always cold. I took my finger away from the call button, and decided I'd let her sleep longer. If she was hungover, she'd need her sleep anyway. I debated calling Phil and Wilfred, who'd been nothing but kind to me and bombarded our group chat with messages checking on me at least once a day, but they'd be in classes soon.

It was surreal to me that school continued, that my whole world had ground to a halt but everyone else's kept revolving, lectures continued even though Dean Fairchild and Professor Lancashire had been murdered and everyone knew it had to be by one of us. The world went back to normal even though half the student body had been cursed. Even though we'd been forced to commit murder by an unhinged, power-hungry goddess.

I thought of Duncan sitting in the snow, barely holding himself together, his guilt over killing the dean eating him alive. I thought of his failed escape attempt and wondered how he and everyone else pretended things were normal.

I supposed without classes and structure and routine, we'd all be sitting in the snow ripping our hair out. Maybe… I should at least try to pretend everything was normal, even if the idea made me want to scream. Professor Poppy would understand if I had to run out ten minutes into her class; she was one of the few professors who I trusted. I could try attending her lecture.

"Maybe," I murmured as I crested the grassy hill and saw the garage, not fully committed to the idea yet. Besides, today would push me enough without adding classes to the mix.

I hadn't been in my car since it died on the moor road and Nightmare came for me, pushing me into the arms of Death, Miz, and Tor. She herded us like cattle and, oblivious, we fell into line.

I blew out a rough breath when I reached the garage, my shoulders stiffening when I spotted two people talking beside a purple chrome Audi. I quietened my footsteps and prayed they didn't notice me until I was safely inside my car. People had a habit of wanting to talk when I wanted to blend into the scenery, and I didn't have the energy to paste a smile on my face when I was going to Death's domain to find the ghost of my best friend.

It wasn't just my anxiety, which cinched my chest until my breathing thinned. Nightmare's curse had ended, and werewolves might have stopped shifting, vampires might have stopped biting people, and the guy who dressed up as Where's Wally? might have finally reappeared after months missing, but that didn't erase the fact someone had summoned her.

Most of the robes were ghosts, she said that night on the moor, but one was alive—the ritual needed a living person. Someone at Ford, someone living in Lawrence House, attending lessons every day, acting friendly and normal and trustworthy, had brought her here and unleashed hell on Earth. Someone did this on purpose, knowing Nightmare would inflict literal nightmares on us, and it could have been anyone.

The only faces I remembered seeing uncloaked were Honey's, Duncan's, Alastor's, and two people whose names I still didn't know—the priest, and the clown. And Darya, but Darya was dead. Everyone else— anyone else—could have summoned Nightmare. I couldn't trust anyone.

I ducked my head and slipped into the garage, winding through the bays until I reached my lime-green Lamborghini Urus. I paused before unlocking it when the voices rose and I recognised the female one—Honey.

My shoulders rounded, my back straightened, and I went from escape all social situations mode to attack mode. Which stupid little scrotum thought it was okay to fuck with my bestie?

I crept around the cars, keeping my ears pricked for the other voice. Whoever it was had just earned my wrath for making Honey raise her voice. She never shouted. Never.

I kept my eyes on them as I wove through the garage. I couldn't pick up words but their body language spoke volumes. When the guy she was arguing with turned, I recognised Justin Merchant and frowned. Why was Justin hassling Honey?

Oh god, what if he told her about the photo I wanted him to track? What if Nightmare found out? She had eyes and ears everywhere, and I'd risked everything just asking Justin for help, but if he was telling people now… I didn't want to think about what Nightmare would do if she found out.

My stomach twisted, but I kept moving, my eyes narrowed on Justin. What would Honey do if she found out I'd been tracking a photo? Tracking Nightmare? No, I knew what she'd do. She'd say I was being so damn stupid, risking myself this way after Nightmare killed Byron. She'd be angry, afraid, and I didn't want to do that to her.

Justin shrugged, his hands slung in his pockets as he said something I didn't quite catch. Punish? Publish?

That's enough of whatever the hell this is. Honey's shoulders slumped, her fingers knotted in front of her, and I'd had about enough of this jerk intimidating my friend.

"Hey," I called, quickening my step. "You okay, Honey?"

Her head snapped up, strands of sunshine-blonde hair tumbling into her face, and she pasted on a smile neither of us believed. "Yeah, fine. Just—talking about an assignment for Breathing and Circulation."

But Justin was in my lectures for that class, not Honey's. I didn't point that out, but I did close the distance between us and sling my arm around Honey to present a united front. My stomach twisted into a vicious knot as I met Justin's eyes.

"I could use help on that assignment, too," I said, pretty damn proud of how normal my tone came out. "I've missed too many lectures since—you know."

He would; he was there at Duncan Ford's Halloween party.

"Yeah," he agreed, a shadow chasing through his eyes. "Well, you know me, happy to help."

Happy to hack Ford's system for past assignments, no doubt. Did I hear an insinuation about him helping me track the photo of Virgil, or was I overthinking it?

Smash his skull into the wall until he can't breathe, let alone speak.

I swallowed, ignoring the dark compulsion even if my hands tingled and I could feel the pressure of Justin's head against my palm.

"I'll let you know when I've got some free time," Justin offered, backing up a step. "I've gotta go get my car serviced."

That sounded like an excuse, but I was so happy to get him away from Honey that I didn't care. If she found out about Virgil, would Nightmare kill my brother? Or would she bring Honey into it, manipulate her like she was manipulating me?

"What was that about?" I whispered when Justin loped over to a crimson Porsche that was the abject opposite to his slouchy appearance. "And don't tell me it was about an assignment."

I met her eyes so she knew I meant business, and she sighed.

"It's nothing," she murmured, rolling her eyes. "Just him being a tosser about me parking in his spot."

I raised an eyebrow, squeezing her into my side. "You can tell me what's really wrong. I don't mind breaking his nose to scare him away from you."

"Cat!" Honey laughed, her eyes crinkling and a real smile crossing her face. "You can't go around breaking people's noses."

"Alright." I shrugged, taking a good look at her, noting the same dark circles she had last night, her bottom lip bitten and broken, her hair pulled into a messy bun I'd never seen her wear before we came to this island. "I'll knee him in the dick, then. Or put salt in his espresso. Just tell me what he did, and consider it done."

The look she gave me could only be described as fond exasperation. "I'm serious, he's pitching a hissy fit over a parking space."

I believed her this time, and honestly, I shouldn't have been surprised. People were so possessive over the slightest thing. A fight broke out once over a Saint Laurent coffee cup. Blood spilled. Hair was ripped out. Someone lost a tooth. As if there weren't a dozen other coffee cups.

I rested my hands on Honey's shoulders, meeting her eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Fine." She laughed softly, rolling her eyes. "I shouldn't let confrontation bother me so much, I just hate it."

"That's why you've got me to beat up your bad guys."

She bumped her shoulder into mine, the tension easing from her. "Who are you and what have you done with my introvert friend?"

I shrugged. "I'm trying out this thing called taking no one's shit."

Except Nightmare, who had me by the lady balls. And I was only taking no shit because I didn't have the energy or inclination to care anymore, but I didn't tell Honey that part. She didn't need to worry about me.

"I like it," she said, resting her head on my shoulder. "I might try it some time."

"I'll help you. Taking no shit is a team effort."

She snorted, pulling away to give me a look that told me I was mad. I watched the smile fall off her face as she waited for Byron to make a quippish comment and felt my own fall when he didn't.

"I'm—going down to the village if you want to come," I offered awkwardly. I could put off going to Death's domain if Honey needed me. Sure, we'd drank long into the night—and so heavily that my head felt like a bhangra drum—but I wasn't leaving her now if she needed me. I couldn't lose anyone else.

"I was gonna go for a drive," she said, her tanned throat bobbing, "but I think I'll—I want to go see By."

I pulled her into a tight embrace and squeezed her to me, like I could take away both our grief if only I hugged hard enough. "Call me if you need me."

"I will," she promised, resting her head on my shoulder for another moment before she drew away. "You call me, too. Or call one of your hot husbands."

"They're not my husbands anymore," I said with a sad smile.

"That's not what Three Tequila Shots Cat told me last night," she retorted, dredging enough amusement through the mire of her grief to waggle her eyebrows.

I groaned, turning away. "I told you nothing."

"You told me far too much," she disagreed as I wove through the garage towards my car. "In too much detail."

I vaguely remembered telling her about Death's to-die-for stroke game and winced. Tequila didn't agree with me. At all.

I shook my head at myself as I got settled in the driver's seat, but the gravity of my situation crashed back into me. I wasn't going into Ford's End for book and coffee therapy. I was going to Death's domain to see Byron's ghost.