Chapter 49

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

MISERY

W hen I caught up to Death, it was chaos. I made Honey swear she'd lock the door to her room and stay right there until we came back, but I couldn't sit there with her and wait for news of Cat, Death, and Tor. I needed to be helping them, fighting alongside them.

I was braced for Phil to put up a fight, but when I finally tracked down Death, he and Tor were fighting huge, bristling creatures, not a deceitful teenager. I froze on the edge of the treeline, watching dark magic stream through the air, pure death spearing creature after creature. For every one they killed, another seemed to emerge from the shadows.

The creatures were all the same size, all around six feet tall and built of powerful muscle, all covered in fur, but their colouring varied between black, grey, maroon, and brown; some had horns, others had spikes down their back and others still had dark, leathery wings. A macabre zoo of arcane animals, not a single one of them natural.

I expected Nightmare's signature to be all over them, but I couldn't sense her. It wasn't much of a relief. There was no coincidence Ford was suddenly overrun with monsters mere weeks after she bragged about launching phase two of her plan.

Magic hung thick in the air as I assessed the chaos and melee, searching for an opening to join the fray, scanning Death and Tor and jolting when I saw a smear of blood on Death's back. His suit jacket was long gone, his shirt sliced down the back and soaked red. How? Anger burned bright in my chest, incinerating my fear of Nightmare until I could drag in a full breath. She wasn't here.

But when I looked at that blood on Death's back, her words echoed through my mind, smug and gloating just minutes after she commanded me to walk into the lake with Rosalind, to drag my sister under the icy water and hold her there until her breathing stopped.

"Call Death," she'd ordered then, sinking her claws deeper into my mind until my skull howled with pain. But I was still in the water, still clutching Rosalind's lifeless body to me, still praying she'd wake up and this would all be a trick or illusion—the agony of holding her dead body numbed me to Nightmare's commands.

"Call him," she hissed, any beauty she'd had replaced by an ugly sort of hunger. She wanted me to suffer, wanted me to break. They were dead, all of them. Even little Joanna. My eyes burned. I dipped my head, pressing it to the cold skin of Rosalind's forehead. "Call him or I'll make you walk under the water until you stop breathing."

Through the numb, I'd understood this had never been about me, and had always been about Death. She used me to get to him, dripped her slow poison into me until I was hers to command, all for this moment—where I'd deliver Death to her, for whatever end.

"No," I said in a hollow voice, my tears falling onto Rosalind's cold face. My sister was dead. My brothers. Konrad and Guinevere. Joanna. All of them, gone. Murdered by this heinous monster standing on the banks of the lake in an embellished red gown like an imperious queen. I wasn't hers to command. Not anymore. Rosalind's death broke her hold on me, and whatever remnants were left tore with every broken, jagged sob that left me.

"You can't hurt him," I croaked. "He's Death."

Nightmare laughed, her voice carrying through the trees, a pealing bell I'd thought was beautiful two days ago. Before I realised it was her killing my family. Before I confronted her and she revealed that I didn't take a breath or wipe my ass without her permission.

"Even Death himself can be harmed," Nightmare took great pleasure in telling me. "You just have to find the right balance between life and death, apply the right pressure to the right weakness. If you think he can't be wiped off the face of every realm, Caishen, I regret to tell you you're sorely mistaken."

She didn't regret to tell me anything. The smile on her face was a mile wide, her eyes sparkling with glee as I stood there, cradling the corpse of Rosalind.

"You're not going anywhere near Death," I managed to rasp, taking a step towards the banks of the lake. I didn't know what I'd do with Rosalind's body, didn't know how I was supposed to bury another person I loved.

"Call him," she growled, her voice deepening, and I found I was wrong, that not even the numbness protected me, because her command snapped through my mind like a whip. My mouth opened without my consent. His name poured out, a summons he couldn't and would never ignore when it meant I was in jeopardy.

"Don't," I tried to choke out, tried to warn him, but then shadows swarmed in the air and there he was, stepping onto the banks far too close to Nightmare. I wouldn't think of her by the name I'd used these past weeks, wouldn't acknowledge her as anything but what she was. She wasn't my friend, wasn't a kindred spirit, wasn't a kind, funny, intelligent woman who only craved connection and kinship. She was a scorpion slinking through the sand, pretending to be harmless until it was too late and I'd been stung with her venom. Like a scorpion's, Nightmare's sting had shut down my body, crawling slowly through every part of me until I could barely breathe, barely exist.

"Go," I forced past numb lips, my arms shaking around Rosalind's cold body, her dress heavy and soaked through. I couldn't tear my eyes off the tiny scrap of distance between Death and Nightmare. "Trap," I managed to choke out before Nightmare pounced.

She'd never physically attacked me, had only cast her wickedness into my mind and made me a puppet, but now she threw herself at Death, wanting to do damage with her bare hands. There was hatred on her face, personal and deep.

"Use your misery on him," she commanded, her voice a whip striking me, making me flinch back.

Rosalind fell from my hands as I raised them, powerless, helpless. Magic streamed from me, colliding with Death, knocking him back a step. His breath hitched, eyes widening as he suffered. Vomit hit the back of my throat.

I trudged through the water, fear closing around my chest as Nightmare locked her hands around Death's throat while he was weak, his magic having no effect on her. Anyone else would have dropped dead instantly; even the strongest mortal would have collapsed, screaming, in true and total agony. But she didn't even flinch. No, it was Death who flinched back, a scream of agony torn from him when she plunged her fingernails into his throat.

I jolted forward a step—and staggered back to reality when a snarl tore through the woods too close to me. I blinked the past away and gasped when a giant flew past me, dark grey fur bristling and leathery wings snapping out so far, the tips brushed my arm.

Death's magic had hit the creature square in the chest; I watched the power spread tendrils across grey fur, watched it sink into skin and find the beast's heart. The brush of death magic over my skin was reassuring. I leaned into it, finding Death's eyes across the clearing. He was fine. But he was bleeding, and Nightmare wasn't even here, but I could still hear her gloating voice.

Even Death himself can be harmed. You just have to find the right balance between life and death, apply the right pressure to the right weakness.

When he was forced to tear his gaze away from me to face another horned, growling creature, I reached for the ring on my pinkie finger, brushing my thumb over the dips and sharp edges. I didn't remember Cat giving me her ring, but I woke up the day after I took the binding potion and found it there, a permanent fixture I'd rather die than remove.

I straightened my spine, threw my shoulders back, and reached for the scraps of magic I had left. Cobwebs—that was all I had. Not enough to fight two dozen snarling, blood-hungry creatures. Where was Nightmare? She must have been somewhere close, the puppeteer to these toys of hers. I had no doubts this was her work; why else would so many beasts suddenly appear in Cat's school. In the home I'd lived so long ago, where my family had lived and died.

Grief pierced my chest but anger followed swiftly. She took them from me. She wouldn't take anyone else. Not Cat, not Death, and not Tor. They were all I had left. They were everything.

I scanned the clash of fur and magic, searching for my girl. Where was she? I searched again and again, taking a blind step forward, my heart pounding faster. Where was Cat? She'd been with Tor. Maybe she hid in the trees, too. Maybe she was safe.

Was that what I was doing? Hiding? Since when did Misery hide?

I swallowed my fear, pushed down the vulnerable feeling of having mere scraps of my magic, and drew a sword from a pocket of shadow. I might not have magic, but I could still fight. I could still—

I leapt aside on instinct, sensing the disturbance in the air, and breath strangled in my lungs as I watched the horned, winged creature Death hit just moments ago shake out its fur and clamber back to its feet.

"Impossible…"

Its grey head whipped towards me, green eyes bright and glittering in a wolf-like face. My heart skipped. Death's power killed anything. It literally extinguished life, like a candle with a snuff. Nothing could survive that, no human or creature or even the rare mortal who made a deal with us and became something more than human. Even gods could be killed by Death. But I'd watched this animal crash to the ground, a direct hit to its chest, and then climb to its feet with no visible wounds.

"Shit," I whispered, a catch in my breath. I held my sword angled in front of me, ready to move the second I saw the creature shift its weight. No wonder Death and Tor were fighting an endless number of these things; every time they killed one, it returned for round two.

"Where's Cat?" I yelled, putting my back to a tree so nothing could creep up on me.

"We got separated," Tor shouted, wrapping his hand in dark power and punching it through the skull of a creature. He ripped out brain matter and gore, blood spilling down his arm. "I'll come closer. Take my phone; you can use it to find her."

I flexed my fingers around the sword hilt, my eyes on the grey creature watching me, waiting, assessing. "How?"

"I've got a tracker on her phone. Open the app called CAT and follow the GPS marker."

That sounded easy enough, even for someone so new to technology like me. I turned my head to see where Tor was, and like it was intelligent enough to wait for an opening, the wolven monster leapt at me.

I sucked in a grounding breath, pushing all my panic aside as I watched the open mouth of the creature come closer, closer, parted on a snarl that might have made me nervous if I wasn't a death god and the semi-living embodiment of misery.

"Bad move," I informed the beast, driving my sword into its mouth, spearing the back of its throat. Shit. I'd been aiming for its brain. The world seemed to slow as I tore the blade free and drove it up, burying it in my target on the second shot.

Close behind me, Tor grunted loudly. I jumped, my calm shattering at his sound of pain, and I sliced my arm on the razor edge of the wolf creature's fangs.

"Fuck," I hissed, bracing my boot on its chest to yank my sword from its brain. It refused to dislodge for long, sticky seconds; I stumbled back when it finally tore free, my chest closing up until I found my balance and lunged through the woods towards Tor.

He spotted me over the shoulder of the brown shaggy-haired creature he circled, dark smoke in one hand and the other fisted around his phone. "Run, and don't look back until you find our girl. Don't worry about Death and me; we've got this."

"They won't die, Tor," I panted, sweat beading on my temple. How long could they fight? How long until the monsters overwhelmed them?

"We've got this," he bit out, punching dark, coiling magic at the creature that wasn't quite right to be a bear. The same size and colour, but the shape was awkward, its tread unbalanced, and when it turned its head, massive walrus-like tusks thrust from its mouth, long whiskers on either side of its nose. "Catch."

I threw my sword into my left hand and caught the phone from the air, hesitating five paces from Tor. He had full power, and I knew what he was capable of, but still I hovered, my eyes going from him to Death.

"Go," Tor snapped, pulling his palms apart in a powerful motion. The bear collapsed into five different pieces, sliced by blades of dark, humming power. "Cat needs you."

Fuck, he was right. "I hate this," I snarled. "Don't fucking die."

He had the gall to roll his eyes.

Sickness roiled in my gut, but I forced myself to retreat into the shadows of the treeline, and unlocked his phone with the code I watched him punch in every day. It took little effort to find the little pink square called CAT. It had a cat's profile in black against the pink; I slammed my finger into it, exhaling in relief when the app opened instantly.

I had to shut out the sounds of growls and snarls, the grunts of my men as they fought, as they were wounded.

Even Death himself can be harmed. You just have to find the right balance between life and death.

She'd been planning this all those years ago, and would have put this plan in motion then if Tor hadn't arrived and tilted the balance towards us. He'd wrapped me in magic, my hands trapped at my sides so I couldn't hurt Death again, and in the same motion he'd speared Nightmare with enough torment to take down a god. When she hit her knees, Death fashioned a blade of decay and drove it into her face, burying it in her eye. I'd barely had enough strength to crawl out of the lake.

They'd handled themselves six hundred years ago, and I had to accept they could now, too. But Cat was vulnerable, powerless.

I swallowed my panic at leaving them behind and moved quickly away. Blending into the darkness of the woods named after my sister, I followed the app's bright yellow arrow through winding paths and up ragged inclines covered in bracken. Sweat beaded on my face, an annoying result of still being somewhat living despite dying hundreds of years ago. It darkened my shirt as I crossed the woods, getting ever-closer to the pin marking Cat's location.

It didn't surprise me that Tor had a tracker on her; he was every bit as obsessed with Cat as I was. I was glad for his diligence as I grew close enough to my girl to sense her. I put the phone away, following the tug in my chest, my magic recognising her flow of life. Adrenaline hit and I ran faster, pushing myself to painful exhaustion.

The cottage rose out of the darkness like it had been cut from a cloth of night, amber light spilling from a single window to light my way as I raced closer. I knew this building—it had been a barn all those years ago, a shelter for the cows that had roamed the farmland. The woods had escaped their boundaries over centuries, the memory of Rosalind refusing to be contained to a few hectares.

A sad smile tugged at my lips. I didn't know if she hated me or forgave me at the end. I hope she knew it was never my choice. It wasn't your choice, and it wasn't your fault. I wondered if Rosalind would feel the same about her own death. Her murder.

Light fell on me as I approached the solid block of stone that formed a front step. The cottage had no markers, no number or name, only a smear of red paint on the dark door, like a burning sun or crimson flower. It was half open, left to swing on its hinges like someone had forgotten to close it. Had Cat been running when she fled here? Had it risen from the darkness to offer shelter? Had it—

There was blood on the lintel.

No. Not my Cat.

I slammed the door open, bursting into a small antechamber. Four smears of blood marred the pale walls in the distinct shape of fingers dragging along stone. I forgot how to breathe. My girl was injured. She'd run here for safety because she was bleeding and she needed us.

The room beyond it offered a glimpse of a heavy wooden table littered with scientific paraphernalia, bookshelves holding ominous jars, and the metallic scent of more blood. It coagulated on the floor by the entryway but led no further into the building. Shit, if Cat had already fled, how would I find her?

No, the GPS led here. She was here.

"Cat?" I shouted, crossing the room in a rush—and freezing when a furious snarl answered me, throaty and deep and clearly the cry of another monster.

Fuck, there were even more of them.

I settled into that frozen calm again, raising my sword in front of myself as I left the first room and burst into a nightmare lit in shades of poisonous green. A haggard man was backed into a corner, a metal gurney shoved painfully into his stomach and his hands up in front of himself to ward off the massive teeth of a six-foot-tall beast.

It was like a panther on steroids, with fur of midnight black, huge paws that spread wide on the floor, claws flashing free. But when it whipped around to face me, it was a sleek rabbit's face that stared at me, not a jaguar's. Eyes like boba pearls, luminous with fear, tracked me as I took quick, efficient steps across the room, sidestepping a table that had fallen onto its side, spilling books and chunks of marble that might resemble people.

"Don't!" the haggard man pleaded, his voice strong but withered. He was covered in layers of grime, his clothes equally dirty, shredded in places. "Don't attack her, she doesn't know what she's doing."

I raised my sword higher nonetheless. These monsters were everywhere, a scourge on Ford's End. They were Nightmare's puppets. The world wouldn't miss them, if they could even be killed.

"Please," the man blurted, trying to push the table aside, to free himself as I stalked closer. There was something familiar about him, scratching at the back of my mind, but I was too focused on fighting, surviving, and finding my girl, that the thought couldn't form. "I'll give you anything, I'll do whatever Nightmare wants next, just don't hurt her. Please."

I froze at that name, spiders of ice crawling down my spine. "You think I work for her."

Bright eyes flickered with confusion. "Why else would you be here?"

A muscle feathered in my jaw. I didn't take my eyes off the animal sizing me up, searching for weaknesses to attack. "I'm looking for my wife."

"Your wife," the man breathed, something like horror beneath the grime on his face. "God." He managed to shove the table aside with a burst of strength, but it clearly cost him; he doubled over, hands on his knees. I saw blood on his clothes, on his skin. Maybe it wasn't Cat's blood in the entrance. Maybe she was safe, unhurt. "Your Elaina's husband?"

I tilted my head, assessing the man and the monster. I'd missed the black, velvety rabbit's ears before; they'd been flattened to the creature's head, but slowly they rose as it watched me, flexing its claws on the stone floor.

"I don't know Elaina. I'm here for Cat."

The man blinked—and blinked. "You're… what?" He sidestepped the creature, keeping his spine pressed to the stone wall, breathing heavily. "She got married? When? No, fuck, that's not important. Stay where you are, don't move a muscle or she'll attack."

I shifted my grip on the sword, pausing at his words. She got married? When? He knew my girl. Was he a past lover, a friend, or a—

"Shit," I hissed, expelling a hard breath. "You're the brother she was searching for. You're Virgil."

His eyes shuttered, hiding emotion he didn't want me to see. "Yeah, I'm Virgil." His voice was scratchy and raw. He stiffened when I shifted forward a step. "Don't fucking touch her."

"She'll kill us both if I let her," I pointed out.

His eyes sharpened, jaw clenching. "She's my sister. She's your wife, apparently. This subject is Cat."

I froze, all the strength going from my arms as I stared at the jaguar, as I met those black boba eyes, and my heart crumpled in my chest. My beautiful girl, my universe. What did she do to you?

I let the sword clatter to the floor, a weight descending on my chest.

Cat chose that moment to pounce, bunny teeth bared and her claws out. I didn't move out of the way of her attack.