Chapter 39

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

CAT

T or was a domestic god who'd put on a whole spread for breakfast. It wasn't, as he said, only pussy on offer. But he feasted on me like I was ambrosia and he was—well, a god.

When I was stuffed full, 1 I sat back in the chair, my back to Death's chest. Both Tor and Miz watched me, telling me Death had somehow filled them in about the bleeding and pain and the video I mentioned.

"I can't tell you anything about it," I said, looking at the smears of strawberry on my plate. "I'm not even sure I can ask you to watch it without bleeding. Just—my password is 1402. It's in my camera roll."

I slid my phone onto the table, my shoulders hunching as Tor delicately picked it up, putting in my password. It wasn't hard to find. I'd hardly been taking hundreds of photos this past week; there were four screenshots of pipe lines and then the screen recording. I flinched when the familiar audio played, my own voice hollow and tinny as I spoke to Virgil, promising everything would be okay, that I'd get him out of there.

Death wrapped his hand around the back of my head, pressing my face into his shoulder, a hundred kisses draped over the crown of my head. "I'm so sorry, little one."

I squeezed my eyes shut, flinching with every minute of the video, with the empty rasp of Virgil's sparse responses. The call had cut off after precisely three minutes, right in the middle of a promise I made to my brother.

Don't worry, poet, I'm gonna do whatever it takes to get you out of—

"Fuck," Tor said when it finished, his voice guttural.

Misery was beside me in a second, kneeling at the side of Death's chair, pulling my hand into both of his, kisses fanning over my knuckles. "Do you want me to take the pain away?"

I swallowed, the temptation already tipping my head into a nod. But I sighed, "No. I need the pain. I don't want to forget what she's done. I need to hold onto it."

"We're gonna find him," Tor said, his voice rough with anger. "You know that, right Cat? We'll find him. I fucking swear it."

His vow made my heart hurt. I could only nod, more tears burning my eyes before they bled free, dripping off the end of my chin.

"I can't lose him, too," I said in a choked voice. "Not after Byron and you three."

"You never lost us," Death was quick to reply, his strong arms tightening around me. "We lost our way a little, but we're back where we were always supposed to be."

"I never—" I began, but Death silenced me with a kiss, his fingers tilting my face up with a firm grip on my chin.

"Don't finish that sentence," he said against my lips, his intensity making my heart pound. "We know you didn't mean it. We know the words weren't yours."

"I should have figured it out sooner," Misery muttered, another kiss skimming my knuckles. "I knew something was wrong when we saw you after the creature's first attack. I knew she had done something. I should have put the pieces together weeks ago; the curse might have stopped you loving us but it didn't erase the time we spent together, the secrets we shared, the orgasms I gave you."

"So many," I said with a laugh, unable to stop crying. "So, so many."

I tried to glare at Miz but couldn't quite manage it with him kneeling before me, looking concerned and rumpled and so perfectly sweet that I never wanted to let him go. That man was dangerous though—one moment you were perfectly safe from a kink, the next it's all you can think about.

"It didn't, you know," I breathed when a sombre atmosphere settled over us again. "Stop me loving you. It never did."

Wood screeched as Tor threw his chair back, stalking around the table. "Can't fucking stand being so far away from you." He caught my right hand in his, squeezing tight as he captured my lips in a featherlight kiss. "And you better get used to all those orgasms, beautiful, because I'm never letting you go again, and I know these bastards feel the same."

"You're ours for life, death, and everything in between," Death agreed. "Our forever bride."

"I'll be watching you, always," Miz murmured, resting his forehead against my hand, gazing up at me lovingly. Promising to … stalk me?

"Uh, thanks," I replied, sure he didn't mean always. Miz was a god—he had better things to do than follow me around for the rest of my life.

My life—fuck, if we really did this, they'd have to watch me grow old and then die.

"We'll find Virgil," Tor vowed with unwavering confidence, misinterpreting my sadness.

"I tried," I said, my throat lined with glass, their closeness enough to comfort but never to dispel my abject terror over what Nightmare could be doing to my brother right this second. "I've tried tracking the footage, and searching the island for underground chambers, and there's nothing." I sniffled, pushing through despite my swollen throat. "I know he's somewhere on Ford, I know she's keeping him close just to make it hurt worse when I can't save him."

Tor brushed the tears from my cheeks, leaning closer to kiss my cheek, lingering until I could breathe again.

"We'll find him. You have three gods at your back now, beautiful. We'll—"

We all jumped when ABBA's "Honey Honey" blasted at full volume from the middle of the table, so incongruous with the dark gothic dining room, the heavy cloud of suffering and grief around us, that for a moment all I could do was stare at it.

"Is it her?" Misery hissed, teeth bared, pressing closer to me. He had a death grip on my hand, and I didn't know if it was to keep me or himself safe.

"It's just Honey," I soothed, squeezing his fingers, taking a deep breath to compose myself. "Tor, can you pass it to me?"

"Of course, pussy cat," Tor agreed calmly, releasing my hand. I knew Miz would sooner lose his hand than let go of mine; Tor was the only option.

"Hey, you," I said, answering the call, already eager for the sound of her voice but terrified to hear Nightmare's taunts instead. What if she'd taken Honey, too? What if she'd—

"What do you wear for your best friend's memorial? They don't cover this in Harper's Bazaar," Honey blurted, clearly in full panic mode. "Is a black dress too sombre? What about a black dress with frills? And then, I have a pair of ragged jeans and that dinosaur T-shirt Byron was always trying to steal, but maybe jeans are too casual? And then there's the bright pink fuck-you dress Byron would have loved at such a serious occasion."

Fuck. The memorial was today? I leaned my head back against Death's shoulder, losing whatever energy I had left. The funeral had been bad enough, but it was small and intimate, the majority of Ford students kept away. But everyone would be at the memorial. I didn't have the social battery today. I just wanted to curl up in the arms of my men and hide from the world. But I wouldn't abandon Honey to that vortex of faux-grief and well-meaning comments.

"If you wear a bright pink fuck-you dress, I will too," I offered, swallowing the knot in my throat. She was right; black was too cliché for our Byron. "I've got some studded jewellery, too, and my jacket that says FUCK YOU, I WON'T DO WHAT YOU TELL ME on the back."

"Byron loved that jacket," Honey sobbed, her manic edge turning to tears instantly. "Didn't he threaten to tell your parents about that blunt we smoked in sixth form if you didn't give him the jacket?"

"Yes, and I stole it back the following weekend," I agreed, pain pulling across my chest even as I smiled.

Honey was quiet for a long minute. "I don't know what to do without him."

"I don't, either," I admitted, closing my eyes when they stung. "I don't think I ever will. He should still be here." If Nightmare hadn't blackmailed him, he wouldn't be gone.

I tightened my fingers around Miz's when he tried to pull away from me. I wouldn't let him shoulder all the responsibility for Byron's death. It was her command, her knife, her plan all along.

"I just don't understand why it happened," Honey said, her pain twisting into anger. "Why did Nightmare target Byron?"

I startled. She'd never connected Nightmare to Byron's death before. "She wants us broken," I said in a quiet, dead voice. "Every last one of us."

"The monster attacks are her too, aren't they?"

I pressed the side of my face against Death's chest, my eyes burning. "I think so."

A manic laugh left her. "She never left. Even though we're back to normal, even though I'm not a cat anymore, she never left. We'll never escape her."

"We're going to be fine," I lied. "She won't win. Not after Byron, no fucking way. We're going to survive and that bitch is going to die."

Honey just laughed again, a joyless sound. "Sure, we'll out-survive a goddess. Like she won't slaughter every last one of us on this forsaken island."

Now she sounded like Byron, and that made me cry harder. "Don't give up," I pleaded. "Don't give up, Honey."

She sighed. "What's the point in having a memorial for Byron when the reason he's dead is still out there? What we need to do is get a hunting party together and kill her."

Hearing that cold, calculated plan come from Honey, my eternally bright and optimistic vicar's-daughter best friend was jarring.

"Don't do anything without me," I said, clearing my throat. "Okay?"

If she moved against Nightmare, the goddess would kill her in a heartbeat. I didn't breathe until Honey sighed, "Okay."

"Wear the pink dress," I rasped. "I'll be there soon."

I didn't know how I'd get through today, but I'd do it even if I had to drag myself through by my fingernails.

I just stared at my phone when I lowered it, the call ended. My head was horribly silent, my chest full of pain. It made everything worse to talk about it, to hear Honey putting clues together, to think of her being ensnared by Nightmare like Byron was. That only led to one destination—here, in Death's domain. I still hadn't found Byron's spirit. I didn't have the nerve to ask if he was here, but deep down I knew the answer to that. Nightmare had stolen his soul like she'd stolen so many others; he never arrived here. I'd never see him again, not even as a ghost.

My stomach twisted, my breakfast suddenly unsteady in my gut. I didn't want to go to the memorial. I didn't want to do anything except scream and cry and stare into space.

"We'll go with you," Death offered gently.

I shook my head, exhausted down to my bones. "I'll be fine."

"We'll go with you," he repeated firmly, kissing the top of my head.

I didn't have the energy to argue.