Chapter 25

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CAT

I slammed my hands into the dark wood door and burst into Misery's bedroom, my heart skipping at the sight of him sprawled on top of the pale silk covers, his skin almost as white as the sheets. The scent of him—fresh linen and lilacs and snow—assaulted me with emotions as I ground to a halt, staring across the messy room at him. It wasn't like Miz to leave a mess anywhere, and it was even less like him to look so unkempt.

He was conscious but barely, his eyes slitted, the gold barely visible. Deep shadows sunk beneath each eye and his face was thinner. I'd thought he looked sick the last time I saw him, but now he was practically unconscious and there was no ignoring that he was deeply unwell. My chest pulled tight, and I took another step, willing courage into my heart as I pulled myself up onto his bed, sitting beside him.

"Miz?"

When he didn't respond, I turned my gaze to the stiff-backed shadow by the window. Death stood with his arms around himself, his jaw clenched, and his eyes were so zoned out I wasn't sure he'd seen me come in. Tor paused in the doorway, a carefully neutral expression on his face, like he was hiding the maelstrom of emotions I knew he was feeling.

I brushed a lock of long white hair from Miz's face, my stomach plummeting at how cold and clammy he was. I didn't know if it was because I'd spent so much time with death gods but… I could sense death near Miz, gathering around him like a shroud, ready to suffocate him. I dragged a deep breath into my lungs and straightened my shoulders. Nightmare had done this. She might not have ordered it, but it was a direct consequence of her fucking with Miz's head, and the need for revenge burned so suddenly and fiercely it was like my lungs caught fire.

"I'm right here," I promised Miz, my voice gentle but unwavering. "I'm not going anywhere."

"He hasn't been conscious for an hour," Death said in a voice so hollow it made my heart clench, agony and sympathy joining my rage-fuelled need for revenge. If Nightmare didn't have Virgil, his life in the balance, I'd have found her and killed her, no matter the cost. But I couldn't risk my brother's life. The photo of him pale and gaunt burned the backs of my eyes and kept my temper in check.

"He's strong," I said gently, stroking the back of my finger down Miz's too-pale cheek. "And stubborn. This won't break him."

It didn't matter what was between us, didn't matter that I'd lied, that they believed I never loved them. It didn't matter that Miz was the reason my best friend was dead. Right now, all that mattered was Misery lay here, close to death, and they all needed me.

Byron, forgive me, I silently pled. I know I should hate them for your death, but I can't. I love them too much.

I couldn't get justice for him if it meant hurting Miz, Death, and Tor. Nightmare was the one that would pay, but not yet, not until Virgil was safe.

Soon, I swore to my best friend. Soon, I promise.

I caught Miz's hand, shutting down my horror at how cold he was, and brought his knuckles to my lips.

"Here," I murmured. "You need this more than I do right now." I slid off my crown ring and slipped it onto his finger. I didn't dwell on the fact the only finger it fit was his wedding ring finger and I was no longer his bride. 1

I squeezed Miz's hand, watching his face for any reaction, and when there was nothing, I slid off the bed to join Death by the window. I didn't know what to say, couldn't think of anything reassuring that wasn't a glaring lie, so I just put my arm around him and leaned my head against his shoulder.

"Don't act like he's already dead," Tor snapped, his body coiled with energy and rage as he marched across the room.

If I could sense the nearness of death, I knew they could, too. But I swallowed those words and said, "I know he's not going to die. I told you—he's stubborn."

Tor's shoulders sank, but his jaw clenched as he looked at Miz on the bed, a muscle fluttering in his jaw. I knew it was more than anger he was fighting back. I also got the sense if I hugged him too, he'd break, so I held back.

"What can we do?" I looked between Tor and Death, my chest tight. "There must be something—a potion or spell or, fuck, a ritual. Whatever it is, let's do it."

I didn't ask if death gods could die. Really, truly die. Their body language was answer enough.

"I already gave him every potion and tonic I could think of," Death rasped, leaning into me. It hurt to see this tall, powerful, dangerous man reduced to shuddering fear. "There's not much we can do for death gods because we so rarely get hurt."

"There must be something," I disagreed gently, squeezing his waist and holding Tor's gaze. "We just need to find it. He can't be the first god to bind his magic. How did he do it anyway?"

Tor's face twisted into hatred. "I found an ampoule of an unmarked liquid. I recognise the craftsmanship."

Death jolted against my side. "Who?" he demanded, his voice dropping an octave, darkness rippling around us like tendrils of black fog. I stroked up and down his back, glancing hopefully at the bed like Miz would hear how closely Death walked the edge of his composure and wake up. But his eyes were still slitted, barely open, his face unchanged, body unmoving.

"Pain," Tor said with a wince, rubbing a spot on his bare chest—his heart, I realised. "It has his signature all over it."

Death caught my hand in a gentle grip, brought it to his lips to kiss the tips of my fingers, and stepped back. Darkness wrapped around him so quickly that I jumped, and by the time I managed to convince my fight or flight instincts that this was Death and I was safe, he was gone.

"He's going to get himself hurt," I worried, dread building in my chest.

"He's going to torture Pain, but don't worry, they'll both probably enjoy it," Tor muttered. "Not in that way," he added, seeing my expression. "Pain is the living embodiment of agony; he's a sick bastard. But Death will get the truth out of him."

"You're not worried," I realised, taking a step closer, wanting to hug him but aware his composure was fragile.

"About Death? No. About Miz?" He blew out a hard breath, perching on the bed as the anger seemed to drain from him all at once. "You gave him your ring," he said, noticing the gleam of metal on Miz's finger.

I shrugged, distracted by Death's absence. Shouldn't one of us go with him? I didn't like the thought of him being alone when he was so upset. And he had no backup despite leaving to confront another god. A god like Nightmare.

"He's Death, beautiful," Tor said, tiredness entering his voice. His shoulders were rounded where he slouched on the bed, something helpless about the hands that lay limp in his lap. "He's the most powerful of us all, and Pain's a bastard but he's not an idiot."

I swallowed, approaching the bed. A rough sigh expelled from my lungs when Tor wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me into his side. "If he gets hurt, I'll punch you in the dick."

"I'd expect nothing less," he replied tenderly, leaning closer to kiss my cheek. "Come here, I need a hug from my best girl."

"I'm your only girl," I huffed, but allowed Tor to pull me down beside him, leaning into his warmth. I wrapped my arms tight around him, and my heart stuttered when he dropped his head onto my shoulder, hiding his face.

"You have to wake up, Miz," I murmured, running my hand up and down Tor's back, stroking the base of his neck. "You have to wake up."

I hated that death hung like an invisible cloud around us, hated its sweet, cloying taste on my tongue, its scent stuffed up my nostrils. It coated my stomach until I felt sick. Misery was dying. What if Death interrogated Pain and found nothing? What if the last time I saw Miz, he believed I'd never cared for him? What if I never got to tell him I'd lied, and my emotions didn't change a single fraction even when the curse dropped.

I opened my mouth to tell him, the words on the tip of my tongue even if he was unconscious and wouldn't truly hear me, but I choked on a sudden cough. Copper coated my tongue, flecking the pale sheets. Fear doused me like an ice bath.

"Cat?" Tor demanded, his grip tightening on me, frantic hands turning my face to him. He inspected me with an urgency that spoke of panic. "What happened?"

"Nothing," I rasped, swallowing blood. I remembered the haunted look in Virgil's eyes and wondered if I wore the same expression. "I'm fine, my throat's just sore."

But I was shaken by the reminder that Nightmare had her hooks in me. Curse or not, I was under her control. Miz hadn't needed a curse to be her puppet, and neither did I.

I tried to push away the fear, reaching across the blood-spattered bed for Miz's pale hand and holding on tight. "You have to wake up, Miz. You have to."

I imagined giving the middle finger to the miasma of death that hung around us, imagined punching it in its diaphanous face until it released my Misery and gave him back to me. He's not yours, he's mine, and you can't take him. Not now, not ever.

Tor and I were so close together, wound so tightly, that our shoulders knocked together when we jumped. Miz's eyes flew all the way open, the golden of his irises burning so vividly, almost glowing, his mouth hanging open as his hands clawed at the sheets. I caught one; Tor lunged for the other, holding on so tightly that Miz couldn't escape from us again.

"Cat…?" he croaked, darkness bleeding from his hands, twining around my knuckles like he was scared I'd let go. He pushed up until he was propped against the elaborate headboard, looking vulnerable and frail in a way that made my heart pull tight.

"Oh, charming," Tor muttered, but there was no missing the relief weakening his shoulders.

"Tor," Miz sobbed, his attention swinging to him. Tears gathered like liquid gold in his eyes before spilling down his face, and Tor and I moved at the same time, throwing ourselves across the bed to hug Miz tightly.

"Did I—" Misery gasped, his breathing spinning out of control. "Did I kill him?"

I brushed a lock of hair from his eye. "Kill who, sweetheart?"

"Death," he managed to reply, though his frantic breaths made it difficult to speak.

"Of course you didn't," Tor said firmly. "He's fine, just hunting down Pain for giving you whatever you used to bind your power."

Misery's face crumpled. He covered it with both hands, his shoulders shaking, and Tor and I exchanged a swift glance.

"Why would you think you killed him, Miz?" I asked so gently, a voice I used so rarely I hardly recognised it. I ran my hands through his hair in slow strokes.

"I dreamed that I—I killed you. All of you. And he's not here."

"He'll be back soon," Tor promised in a voice equally gentle. He scooted up the bed, his back to the headboard, and pulled Miz between his legs, wrapping himself around the trembling man. "You didn't hurt any of us. We're all okay. You're okay."

Misery squeezed his eyes shut. I wanted to find Death and bring him back but I didn't know where Pain lived. I didn't have the first idea where to start looking, and every instinct I had told me to stay beside Miz. I also, selfishly, didn't want to be anywhere near someone called Pain. Miz had only inflicted misery on me once, and that was by mistake, but I knew not every god would be as careful as my husb—as these men.

I couldn't find Death for Miz. Instead, I slipped off the bed and crossed the elaborately decorated room to the huge golden cage I'd noticed against the far wall, although cage was too small a word. It was huge, and took up the entire wall, and had so many different rooms and sections it was like a mini palace.

"Hey, you," I whispered when I spotted Peach in one of the higher sections, her beady eyes dark as she watched me fumble with the catch on the door before I got it open. "Remember me? I held out my fist for her to sniff, not really knowing the social etiquette of prairie dogs. I did know holding out my fingers was a sure way to get bitten by any creature, hence the fist.

She shuffled closer, watching me suspiciously, but there was no way she was an ordinary animal, living in Death's domain, so she was a smart girl.

"Miz needs you," I whispered, meeting her curious gaze. "I don't mind you taking a little nibble, but can you avoid ripping my hand open long enough for me to carry you to him?"

Behind me, Tor murmured to Misery in low, soothing tones that worked on my own panic even if I couldn't hear the exact words. I took a moment to fill my lungs, to shake off the remnants of terror that I'd lost Miz forever, that I'd never be able to tell him what really happened that day on the moors.

I took a leap of faith and held out my hand for Peach to crawl onto, which she didn't, and then I bit my lip as I closed my hand lightly around her middle, surprised by how light she was, how soft her fur was.

I left the door hanging open—who knew how quickly I'd have to return her if this turned into a bloodbath. But she just peered around the room as I carried her and made a soft sound when she spotted Misery.

"Peach?" Miz sobbed, lifting his head from where he rested it against Tor's chest.

"I thought you might need her," I explained, the back of my neck burning until I saw his face collapse as he nodded. I'd done something right; I hadn't fucked up. "Here," I murmured, placing her in his hands and startling when she let out a piercing wahoo! Miz laughed abruptly, either at Peach or my expression, and held the wriggling creature close to his chest.

"Thank you. For getting Peach, and for staying."

"I'm not going anywhere," I informed him, climbing back onto the bed and snuggling close, my thigh pressed to Tor's, my head resting on Miz's shoulder.

Movement caught my eye and I startled at the sight of Death stalking across the room, blood dripping from his hands, his face, his clothes. My heart nearly tore out of my chest; I lurched forward.

"Not mine," he assured us quickly, closing the distance between us. "It's not mine. And I'll replace your sheets, Miz, but right now I just need to—"

He crawled onto the bed with us instead of finishing, his whole body trembling, slicked with blood. The metallic scent of it filled my nose and burned out the lingering reek of death. Although … that miasma had begun to fade when Miz woke up. I prayed that meant he was healing.

Death's head rested over Miz's heart, one of his hands fastening around mine, one gripping Tor's wrist. "I just need this," he rasped.

Because I wasn't looking at any of them, I was brave enough to whisper, "I love you. All of you."

Tor startled. "But I thought—"

I shook my head, my eyes burning. "Don't ask me to explain any of what I said before. Just—know I mean it now. I love you."

It was such a relief to say it, to tell all of them how I really felt instead of following a script set in front of me by a psychopath holding my brother captive. Tears flowed hot down my face. I held tight to Death's hand, wrapping my other around Misery's arm, my breath hitching in a dangerous way that heralded sobs when Tor pressed a kiss to the top of my head.

"I love you, too," he said quietly, a roughness to his voice. "Even if you bastards scare the shit out of me with so much death-defying shit."

"Shit twice in one sentence," Miz drawled. "You're losing your creative touch."

Death made my heart jump with a kiss to my cheek, then to my lips, capturing me in a slow, deep kiss that made the tears flow harder, hotter. I buried my face in Miz's shoulder when Death released me, drawing Miz into a kiss every bit as loving, and then taking Tor's mouth with just as much passion.

"My loves," he murmured, looking at all of us. "It's the greatest honour of my existence to love and be loved by you. Even if, like Tor said, you scare the shit out of me with death-defying shit."

"Death-defying horseshit," Tor amended airily. "I can be creative."

"It still has shit in it," I pointed out, earning myself a nip of teeth on my ear that only made me smile.

Miz reached up to pat Tor's shoulder. "You can do better."

Tor laughed loudly, a startled bark of noise that made Peach protest equally noisily. Miz was right; she really didn't like Torment. I tucked a smile into the curve of Miz's shoulder, feeling a weight leave my soul. I couldn't tell them about Nightmare's threat or her holding Virgil captive, but this felt like a step out of the dark, back into the glow of their affection.

"Sleep, loves," Death said gently, kissing each of us. "Miz needs the sleep to recover."

"I can go," I said in a small, reluctant voice.

"You'll stay right the fuck there," Tor grumbled, his hand finding my hip and pressing me against him and Miz. "No fucking leaving."

No fucking leaving sounded perfect.