Chapter 23

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CAT

W ind whipped my hair out of my face as I ran, adrenaline surging through my veins and the darkness assuring me this wasn't a terrible idea that was about to get me slaughtered. I didn't stop to think about being cut to ribbons; the wrath of madness had a hold of me, so I barely noticed anything except the huge dark shape in the distance.

I clambered over a low wall, grunting when my feet slammed into the hard-packed grass on the other side and my ankle faltered.

Don't let it escape, the darkness urged, brushing against me like an affectionate cat. That beast killed Caroline and will kill anyone else it comes across. Honey. Wil. Miz. Anyone.

I gritted my teeth and forged onward, running through the ache in my ankle, keeping the monster in my sights as it vaulted walls and landed on the bottom of the road. It was so close to the village that the florist refreshing her stock of red roses and purple tulips would see it if she turned around. My stomach knotted at the thought of her being attacked and I opened my mouth to shout a warning but a sudden slash of pain scythed through my chest. My legs fell from under me.

I landed on my knees in the grass, tears pricking my eyes as the sharp pain sliced through my heart and further, deeper. Nightmare—this had to be her sabotaging me so I didn't stop her monster. What else could it be?

"Run!" I croaked to the florist, but my voice wasn't loud enough to carry over the rush of the wind and sea.

I ground my teeth, curling my hands into fists that I used to get my feet back under me. It felt like my insides were being cut apart, like cruel hands left bruises on my very soul, but I refused to let Nightmare win.

The darkness was conspicuously quiet as I got unsteadily to my feet, stumbling to a wall for something to prop me upright. My eyesight blurred, the pain coming in fierce waves that threatened to black out the island around me, but I squinted until I saw the dark, bearlike shape of the monster. It was so close to Ford's Flowers that I felt sick.

"Run!" I yelled, my voice raw.

The woman turned, the sky's grey light making her circle-frame glasses flash silver, only curiosity on her warm brown face for a moment before she saw the creature barrelling towards her. The bunch of tulips in her hands hit the floor and she spun, her cute floral apron twirling in a circle as she ran for her life.

I ignored the pain splintering through my chest as I clambered over the last wall between me and Ford's End village, my teeth gritted against the throbbing ache in my ankle, too. I couldn't breathe as the woman ran down the picturesque village street, yelling warnings at the top of her lungs.

A woman sitting at one of the little tables outside the coffee shop caught sight of the creature, threw her book down without marking the page, and rushed inside the shop, slamming the door shut. Other customers pressed close to the glass but wisely kept inside. Down the road, a newsagent froze in the act of putting up a metal sign, the sixty-something man removing his flat cap as he stared at the black, horned animal bounding into the village.

"Run!" I screamed, my voice hoarse, not carrying far enough. My ankle buckled as I stumbled down the cobbles, no longer driven by bloodlust and revenge but a desperation to not see any more people ripped apart by this beast. Where did it even come from? I thought Nightmare was to blame because of the crows and the voicemail, but there was no denying that the monster was a wild animal. Not one I recognised, but it was real—flesh and blood, not smoke and magic. Not an omen. Not a curse.

My next step sent a flash of pain up my leg and I hit the ground hard, the shattering pain in my chest flaring until I moaned, clutching my chest. Oh, god. It felt like a heart attack, or what I'd always panicked a heart attack would feel like, but I swore the shards of pain spread throughout the rest of my chest too, reaching further with every moment I knelt here. It speared into my soul like the curse had, and I could barely function at the thought that this was a side-effect of Nightmare cursing me to be the bride of Death.

A snap went through my soul like a whip crack, like glass shattering or rock cleaving down the middle, and for a moment a cry filled my ears. Misery's cry.

Instinct and protective rage got me off the ground, my ankle hot and throbbing but holding—for now. I shook my head to get the harrowing sound of Miz's scream from my skull, and froze, my breath crystallising in my lungs, when I realised someone was screaming. Not the florist—the butcher whose shop sat beside the post office was screaming, her face pale and horrified as her stocky husband pulled her out of the street, desperately seeking the safety of their shop.

She was screaming because—because the florist lay on the cobbled street, her arms flung out on either side of her like she was searching for a weapon, for anything to save her life. And crouched over her like a thing of nightmares, the animal blotted out the sight of her body like a shadow repelling light. There was no mistaking the jerking movement of its head as it tore ligaments and muscle, no mistaking the wet crunch as it… as it ate her.

I retreated until my back slammed into a wooden telephone pole, my breathing racing out of control. What the hell was I doing racing after a deadly animal that could and would rip me apart and scoop out my insides like the gooey centre of a cinnamon roll?

Shadows and movement made me flinch, my head knocking into the pole, and a shiver doused me in ice as crows fluttered onto the roofs of Ford End's high street, watching the carnage. I needed to call the police, needed to call for help, needed an ambulance, but this was Ford and everything took too long and the florist was already ripped open and—

"Death," I whispered, shaking hard as I stared at the creature hunched over the pretty florist. The dead florist. The crows ruffled their feathers as they settled down to oversee her murder, like reapers come to collect her soul.

My head was too muddied to realise I could call his name and he'd come for me. All I knew was everything inside me hurt, a woman had been murdered and eaten, and I needed him. I needed to run, to get to his domain where I'd be safe.

I stumbled around the telephone pole towards the wall, my heart beating faster, the pain beginning to wane. Whatever Nightmare had done to me, that slicing pain through my chest— was it over? If the pain was fading, that was good, right? Maybe it wasn't a side effect of the curse. Maybe I was fine.

I retreated another step—and froze when the creature's dark head snapped up. I couldn't see its eyes but I knew without a doubt its sights had set on me.

Don't move, don't move, I chanted to myself even if the compulsion to run choked off my air. Warning trickled down my spine as the creature rose from the mutilated mess it had made of the florist whose name I'd never learned, and the bottom dropped out of my stomach when it lurched a step closer.

Nope. Fuck that.

I spun on my one good ankle and sprinted for the wall behind me, clambering over it so awkwardly that stones slammed into my stomach and knocked the air from my lungs. I wheezed as I dug my fingernails into the mortar between chunks of stone and hauled myself over.

I caught myself on hands and knees in the grass, and jumped back to my feet, biting back a whimper when my tender ankle flared. At least the crippling pain had left my chest; at least it didn't threaten to send me back to the ground as I ran as fast as my body could.

A loud flutter of wings followed me, but I didn't look over my shoulder to see why the crows were chasing me. To intervene, because Nightmare couldn't bear to lose her favourite leverage and weapon? Or to watch my murder the way they'd watched Caroline's and the florist's? The cold trickle down my spine spread to my whole body, until I felt encased in ice. The rough, loud panting of an animal met my ears, closer than I'd expected.

Oh god, I was going to be mauled to death.

I could see Byron was my first thought.

But Virgil needs me was my second.

And I don't want to leave Mum, Dad, Tannie, Honey and my—my gods. Were they mine? The lines between curse and reality had blurred and I didn't know what we were, but I had hope for our relationship for the first time in weeks, and I didn't want to give that up either.

So I ran as fast as I physically could, whipping my arms on either side of myself, reaching for the mental image of the gothic castle with its many spires, towers, and bridges.

Please, I begged, thinking of all the times I'd spent there. But the creature's rough panting was so loud it was distracting me, and the crunch of rapid paws trampling the grass made it impossible to focus.

My shoes slipped, but I flung out my arms, dug in my other shoe, and refused to fall. A scream burned up my throat and exploded from my mouth, the pain in my ankle bringing tears to my eyes. But if I fell, I was dead.

The creature never growled or roared, but the heavy breathing was almost worse. It raised all the hairs on the back of my neck and made my knees like jelly. I couldn't look back, but the urge grew so strong I wanted to scream again.

"Take me to Death's domain," I gasped, fighting to hold on to the image of the dark corridors, the warmth of the fireplace, the safety of being wrapped in the arms of the men I loved.

What if I never got to tell them I loved them?

Jaws snapped behind me and I shrieked, sheer terror giving me a burst of speed. Don't fall, don't you dare fall.

I dove into my memories, fighting to block out the stench of the beast's breath, the heat of it on my back. I remembered the bedroom Death put me and Miz in, where Miz melted my brain with his cock and magic wand. I latched onto the details of the room—the plush bed, the expensive sheets, the four poster bed frame and the rich colours on the walls.

The beast's jaws snapped again, so close that teeth snagged the back of my coat, shredding the fabric. Oh god, oh god—

The fetid smell of the creature's breath fell away, replaced by dust and paper and honey, and a sob burst from me when I stumbled from grass to tarmac, the moors spreading out on either side of me. And inches away, tall iron gates towered above me, inviting and foreboding in equal measure.

They'd kept out Nightmare; they had to keep out this monster, too.

I grabbed the cold iron, swung myself around the gate—another sob left me when I passed through the shield of power—and slammed it shut on the creature's face.

Gasping a cry, I snatched my fingers back from the gate just as massive teeth snapped around an iron curlicue. Panic drummed in my chest as I waited for the metal to bend, to crumple, but it was the creature that whimpered and tore away. It was close enough that I saw its amber eyes, that I could make out every groove on the black ram's horns that curved back from its furry skull.

It looked at me, and I couldn't tear my gaze away. It never growled, never snarled, but that didn't mean it was harmless—I'd watched it rip into a woman's chest and eat her organs.

I backed up slowly, scared it would burst through the gates if I looked away, but when I reached the steps of the castle, the creature turned and walked away, loping up the moor road.

I sank onto the bottom step with a ragged breath and dragged my hands down my tearstained face. I was so fucking close to being ground meat stuck between a monster's huge canines. So fucking close to being dead.

I allowed myself another minute to catch my breath, to dry up the tears, to find my courage, and went inside in search of the death gods.