Chapter 34

Miz was lucky I didn't break his nose; my hand curled into a fist, itchy with encouragement, and the dark voice in my mind whispered he deserved to bleed. I cast a sideways glance at him as we walked across the park in the heart of Ford's campus, and wanted to rearrange his entire bone structure. The least I could do was shatter his glasses and make his vivid blue eyes bleed. He'd adopted the form of the psycho he wore when he shoved me into the alcove, and I seethed with anger.

Last night hadn't warmed me to him at all, no matter how sweet he was with Peach or that he'd claimed to make to come to stop my grief over killing Darya. I didn't buy it. Miz was all about control and dominance; I bet he never did anything for others without something to gain first.

"Problem?" he asked, glancing at me with nerves instead of the hostility he'd shown before. Sweat shone at his brow and neck, too, but that could have been because he was wearing a heavy wool coat straight off Paris Fashion Week and it was a rare scorching day in Ford's End.

"Other than wanting to break your nose, no problem," I replied sweetly, surprising myself with the cold bite of acid in my words. There was just something about Miz that riled me.

He laughed softly, but didn't snap back at me, and didn't taunt. I cast him a weird look, but I didn't want to bring up the awkwardness between us. Clearly he had regrets about sleeping with me. And fine, let him regret it. He was the one who initiated it anyway.

"You can leave me here," I told him for the second time as we neared Lawrence Hall.

To which he shot me the same scowl as before and said, "I'll walk you to your door. Unless you want to give Nightmare a perfect opportunity to lure you away again?"

I glanced away, memories hitting me like daggers. Darya rushing after me, concern widening her innocent eyes. Nightmare ordering me to kill her. My hand burying a knife in my friend's gut. The emptiness in her eyes.

I jumped when a cold, clammy hand wrapped around mine, and Miz squeezed hard. "The clarity of the memories fades over time," he murmured. "It will always haunt you, but it won't always hurt this much."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and didn't know why he was trying to comfort me. "Thanks," I said anyway, because his words gave me hope. I could barely breathe or speak around the knives inside my chest, and maybe I didn't deserve it but I wanted to believe it wouldn't always be this way.

"There, isn't that your annoyingly upbeat friend?"

I glanced up, looking across the park where a few students mingled near the benches, more sitting on picnic blankets on the grass to take advantage of the good weather.

"Honey!" I called, and immediately wished I hadn't when she turned, smiling wide enough to light up her whole face, and a tall, broad-shouldered man turned with her.

Alastor.

My body locked up, but Miz's hand was still wrapped around mine, and even if I wanted to break his face, I'd choose him over Alastor a thousand times. I might not feel safe with Misery, but I didn't feel unsafe, and that was a powerful distinction.

"I'd call you a dirty stop-out," Honey teased, jogging across the park to us, eyeing up Miz's blue-eyed asshole disguise, "but I'm guilty of the same crime. Alastor, you remember Cat from the party, right? Or were you too trollied to remember anything?"

Trollied? I almost laughed.

"The latter," he replied, his golden face friendly and harmless. My heart stuttered in my chest. "But I've seen Cat around campus. I don't know you, though," he added, glancing at Misery with that same bright, open expression on his face. It was a fucking lie.

"I don't do parties," Miz said coldly, tugging me closer, and I didn't know if it was male possessiveness or if he was reading my body language, but I was glad for the back up.

Cat shot me a wide-eyed look at the don't fuck with me attitude Miz gave off, but I didn't mirror it. Even if I didn't have the nerve to show my real feelings about Alastor, I was glad someone did. He was evil at his core. I needed to get Honey away from him, but I knew what she got like when she had a crush—she was all in, and completely blind to red flags. If I tried to get her to see the real him, she'd cling to him harder.

"I don't blame you," Alastor replied to Miz, completely ignoring his tone of warning. "That night was a shitshow. You didn't miss much."

"Where are you going now?" Honey asked, a smile tugging at her lips again like she couldn't resist it. I hated seeing her so happy when I knew I'd have to pop the bubble eventually. I hated knowing her crush was a monster and not knowing how to convince her of that.

"Lawrence Hall," I replied, and tried to keep all my true emotion out of my voice.

Something came flying at us and I flinched hard, seeing only a fast-moving shape. Nightmare, my instincts screamed, and I twisted away, my breathing wrecked. Miz squeezed my hand so tightly it hurt and put his lips to my ears.

"I would take every threat to you apart piece by piece, bone by bone, but you're safe, Cat. It's a frisbee."

I exhaled a hard breath, unable to say why the violent comfort worked so well, and I noticed both Honey and Alastor watching me with matching worried expressions. Like he'd studied hers and mirrored it. I wondered if he stole pieces from everyone, flawlessly mimicking human emotion.

"I'm fine," I told Honey, a chill rushing down my spine at the way her crush—boyfriend?—watched me. It was so believable, I'd never guess he was so dangerous. "Just shaken because of… you know…"

The Halloween party. Nightmare cursing us.

"Come on," she said kindly, her expression so soft it killed me. "We're heading that way so we'll walk with you." She gave Miz a stern look. "You better protect my girl."

"With my life," he swore, and sounded so believable I thought he must be mimicking the emotion like Alastor did.

"And if I find out you hurt her," Honey said, going into scary sunshine mode as we crossed the park, "I will end you, and I'll make sure the pain lasts a long time."

"Good," Misery said softly, quietly. "I'd deserve nothing less."

I squeezed his hand, not quite believing this was fake anymore. That was real, and I didn't like the sound of it—small and loathing and fragile.

Honey nodded though, satisfied. "Alastor, tell Cat about the gala." She shot me an excited stare that softened to pleasure when Alastor held open the door to Lawrence Hall for all of us. A perfect gentleman.

"You have to come," Alastor said, smiling at both me and Miz, his mask impeccable. "I need all the numbers I can get. I'm organising a charity gala for the week before Christmas."

"It's for this group of injured kittens someone dumped in the village," Honey said, her lip pushing out in a sad pout. "It's awful, Cat. The poor things, left out in a cardboard box in the cold."

"I'm taking it as a chance to raise awareness about animal cruelty," Alastor went on as we headed upstairs, a riot of noise coming from the dining hall. Right, it must be lunch time by now. I was glad it was Saturday; I couldn't bear classes right now. "There are so many animals abused, so many pets discarded, but we have the money and privilege to do something about it."

One look at Honey and I knew she was a goner. The sun might as well have shone out of Alastor Carmichael's ass, and I really did not know how to tell her this was all a clever alibi while underneath he was poison and malice. I held onto Miz's hand for dear life.

"We might be busy that day," Misery said when I forgot to reply. "Cat will have to check her calendar." He said it with a tight smile that told him my calendar would be fully booked. But Honey shot me a pleading look and I knew I'd cave, that I'd end up going to the gala organised by a man who threatened me.

"I can't remember the date," Alastor said when we reached the second floor, glancing at Honey. "You wrote it down, didn't you, dear? Can you go check in your diary?"

Honey leaned up to kiss his cheek and darted to her room. When she was gone, Alastor kept up his good natured routine, but he said, "The gala's for injured cats actually," and looked right at me.

My stomach squirmed. That was a threat. I knew it was. He was threatening to hurt me, right here in the corridor in front of Miz. I cringed away, and expected Miz to jump in and threaten him back, maybe even eviscerate him, break his bones apart like he'd promised, but he was frowning down the hallway, distracted.

"Your door's open," he pointed out, his voice strange. He shook his head hard, like he was trying to dislodge something.

He was right. Shit. My door was open. And when I rushed down the hallway, releasing my death grip on Miz's hand, I saw the gouge the lock had left in the frame. It had been forced open.

A chill went down my spine and made my hands shake.

"If you did this—" I turned to hiss at Alastor, who was smirking, his real face exposed.

"Why would I give a shit what was in your room?"

I didn't believe him, didn't believe a single word out of his sneering mouth.

"Keep looking at her like that," Misery hissed, stepping between us. "I fucking dare you."

I fought a shudder as I pushed my door open, a soft sound catching the back of my throat when I found one of my curtains hanging off its pole, my mattress and duvet dragged off the bed frame, a crack going through the desk where Death had fucked me. Everything that could be broken was broken. I turned to look at Miz, my heart breaking, and swallowed hard at the look on his face. He looked sick.

"You can't stay here," he whispered, running a graceful hand down his face. "You'll have to move into a new room, Cat."

I stared at the wreckage, the back of my neck prickling with warning. Nightmare had done this, or one of her followers had on her command. What would they have done if I'd spent the night here? Killed me?

I padded carefully into the room, my hands shaking as I salvaged some of my things from the mess. My eyes welled with tears when I saw the ceramic duck Virgil got me for my last birthday shattered on the ground.

My knees gave out without warning and I knelt there, clutching the shards.

"Cat," Miz breathed, tentatively coming towards me. "You can't stay."

Because whoever did this would come back.

"Oh god," Honey's soft voice came from the door, horror bleaching her face when I glanced back at her. "They got into your room, too."

"Too?" I wiped the tears off my cheeks, dropped the broken duck, and stood. "Your room was broken into?"

She nodded, something new in her eyes—horror and grief. It was like looking in a mirror. "They didn't trash my room, but they left this," she whispered, holding out a red rose.

"A rose," I murmured, grabbing clothes from the wardrobe that now slumped into the wall, a massive gash down its side. "Why would someone leave that?"

She shook her head, silent, and a tear dripped down her face. "Oh, Cat, I'm so sorry this happened."

When she rushed across the room and hugged me, not caring that I had my hands full, I rested my head on her shoulder. "This is Nightmare's followers targeting us," I said. "She wants us to be scared, but fuck her. Fuck her scare tactics."

Mind games—that was what she did, what she loved. She made me kill Darya because she knew it would haunt me. She trashed my room, but only left Honey a rose, so it would fracture us. I was supposed to wonder why Honey's room was spared, why she was left a gift, to all intents and purposes. But I refused to play Nightmare's games.

"I'll get you a new room," Miz said as Honey and I separated, both of us teary, traumatised. Exactly as Nightmare wanted. "And I'll make sure it's protected," he added, catching my eye so I understood he'd use magic to make sure no one could get in. I nodded.

"You're right," Honey breathed, wiping tears on her sleeve, her face red. "She wants us to be scared, but why should she get what she wants? Alastor—" she began, raising her voice, but he was gone.

Probably off to report to Nightmare. I didn't care that he couldn't be one of her robed followers because I saw him in that room on Halloween, unrobed. He did this. I knew he did.

"The person who did this will pay," I promised. "And—maybe until then, stay away from Alastor? We hardly know him, Honey."

Honey's eyes narrowed, as I knew they would. Fuck! "And you know your husbands so much better? You never approve of my choice in men, Cat."

"Sorry," I rushed out. "Sorry, I'm just upset and stressed." I gestured at my trashed room and hoped sympathy would win her back to my side, my bones melting in relief when her face softened. I cried harder.

I didn't know if I hugged her first or if she hugged me, but we both clung hard and only pulled apart when a sharp male cry came from the hallway outside. Distressed. Pained. Familiar.

"Byron," I gasped, and sprinted for the door. If Alastor had hurt him, I swear to all my death gods…

But it wasn't Alastor. When Honey and I burst into the hallway, it was a five-foot-nine guy whose name I didn't know throwing Byron up against the wall, his face parted on a guttural animalistic hiss and his skin greyish and peeling.

"Oh god, a zombie," Honey whispered.

"Miz?" I turned to him but he was already moving, grabbing the zombie in a grip so tight that he screamed, staggering back, clutching his chest as dark tendrils of smoke inflicted misery. "Don't kill him," I rushed out, Honey and I darting forward to catch Byron. "It's not his fault he's cursed."

Misery made a throaty sound and released the zombie, letting him collapse to the floor. "I'll shield all your rooms," he said, turning to meet my eyes. "I believe there's a conversation you need to have."

Ah. Byron was staring at the zombie, then at me, then at Honey, his eyes widening when we didn't run away screaming at the sight of a zombie.

"Yeah, By, there's something you should know."