Chapter 42

Nothing felt right here. I knew it in my bones, felt the clang of alarm through my body, but I couldn't explain it with any kind of logic. This magic was old and had a will of its own, but it was failsafe in my hands. As Death, it would bend to my command even if it hated it.

"I have a really bad feeling about this," Tor said gruffly, standing outside the triangle cut into the grass behind my greenhouse. The castle loomed over us, its dark shadow hiding the symbol we'd carved into the ground and the darkness we'd all sent to fill it. Mud speckled his black leather jacket and stained his hands.

"It won't work," Misery said quietly, his eyes on the triangle of power, arms crossed over his slim chest. "It's not enough."

"We'll never know until we try," I countered, matching his soft tone. "We agreed it's worth a try."

"I know," Miz muttered, his expression difficult to read. He looked moody and angry but I knew Misery, and I could tell he was concealing something bigger, some deeper emotion. I squeezed his shoulder, and when that didn't relax even an inch of tension from him, I pulled him into my arms, brushing a kiss over his lips. "If this works, we kill them all. I don't care if they're compelled."

"Fine by me," Tor agreed with a shrug. He was frowning at the symbol cut into the grass.

I released Miz with another reassuring kiss, each of us standing at a different point of the triangle. From Tor's casual surveillance on Cat's phone we knew she and Honey had been searching the library at Ford for any hints of a curse and how to break it. We also knew there was nothing there to find; any books that had been at Ford were moved here six hundred years ago to my library. And in one of them, we'd found one of the original sigils used to summon Nightmare—or in theory any death god. We'd adjusted it with a single scrawled symbol to summon her followers.

In theory.

Whatever happened, at least Cat was safe with her friend. Nightmare only attacked when she was alone.

"All this bullshit over a husband who didn't even like her," Tor muttered, shaking his head. "You'd think she'd want to die to go be with him, but no."

"Love ruins people," Misery said with a frown. "It leads only to madness."

Tor's face cracked in a grin, and he would have nudged Miz if he were close enough. "I happen to like that brand of madness."

"It'll kill you eventually."

"I can't be killed."

"Enough," I interrupted softly, not wanting to think about why Nightmare had crusaded for revenge all these years—because her husband died and she blamed me, Death. Everyone that had suffered at her hands could be traced back to me and the force I embodied. "On three, speak the incantation. And you're right, Miz, we kill anyone who comes through."

Tor nodded brusquely. Miz uncrossed his arms and reached for a swath of shadow, pulling out a knife. He nodded too, and we stepped forward, onto each corner of the sigil, shadows flowing around our feet to power the symbol in lieu of fire and blood. As much as I wanted to strike Nightmare a blow, I wouldn't kill for it.

Followers of Nightmare, you are summoned. Appear here, or suffer for eternity.

Our voices blended, overlapping in a droning chant of power, and at first nothing happened.

But then movement flickered from the rivers of shadow cut into the ground—pale silvery light. I caught my breath. It was working.

Figures were torn through the triangle of power, so many trapped in its magic that I lost count. Relief nearly weakened my knees. Her followers were here. We could deal her a dangerous blow, weaken her, and get the upper hand we needed to keep Miz and Cat safe.

But I realised too late, the figures were too transparent to be living.

The fifty people who appeared were dead. Ghosts. And the symbol had only been drawn to contain the living.

They swarmed before I could throw up a veil to shield us, their hands as cold as bone.