Page 18 of All Hallows Trick (Sick and Twisted #3)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CAT

I later found out Tor and Virgil ran the creatures out of Death’s domain, sending them back to Ford’s End where they’d come from. It wasn’t an ideal solution, but it was better than unleashing them upon another place. At least the people of Ford’s End were used to hearing howls and seeing wild animals in the trees. But anyone they killed would be on our conscience.

The thought of more people being slaughtered like the florist and Caroline made something twist behind my ribs, but it would be worse if the subjects stayed. Every spirit murdered weakened Death. He kept insisting he’d be fine when the realm healed, that he’d recover his strength, but I wasn’t sure I believed that. Something was eating away at the cities here; I’d seen it myself now. A whole street had fallen into empty nothingness on the other side of the realm. How long before it caught up to us in Madde’s castle?

I stood at a tall, arched window on the second floor landing, my arms wrapped around myself, and … I wanted to go home. I didn’t care about my room at Ford; that had never really felt safe. I wasn’t even thinking about my bedroom at home with Mum and Dad. I wanted Death’s castle, wanted to wake up in bed with him, Tor, and Miz, warm and safe. Tor and Miz would bicker, making me laugh, and Death would take advantage of their distraction to steal me from under the covers, carrying me into the shower where we’d connect over and over, in the most delicious ways.

We were safe here, but it wasn’t the same.

I jumped when something soft and plush yanked over my head, a weight settling over my shoulders, reaching my hips. “What…?” I frowned at the warm, orange fleece that draped across me. “Is this a duck onesie?”

“No.” Madde scoffed, leaning against the window a foot away from me, his eyes dark and watchful, hiding an emotion I couldn’t place. “It’s a hooded blanket.”

I gave him a questioning look but didn’t stop him when he tugged the orange hood into place on my head, cutting off the cold air around my face.

“Look, now you have a bill.”

I reached up and felt the duck’s bill poking out from my hood. A rusty laugh shook my chest. “How did you know I like ducks?”

“I know literally everything about you,” he replied conversationally, like that wasn’t alarming.

“I doubt that,” I replied, gazing out the window because I didn’t want to figure out why it hurt to look at him. It was no easier to look at Death or Miz these days, both of them hiding injuries and illnesses. Tor was stronger, healing, but I remembered the bite on his shoulder, and guilt pinched my heart.

“Cactus Bengal-Tiger Wallison, eighteen years old, nineteen in a month. Born in Senegal on a business trip, raised in London until the incident where I fell in love with you, upon which your family relocated to Harrogate along with two other families experiencing scandal in the South.”

I wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or horrified. “Don’t tell anyone my middle name.”

“Why not? It’s fierce and cute. I should start calling you tigress.”

“Oh god,” I groaned, laughter breaking free. “Don’t.”

Madde’s eyes curved in a smile, whatever emotion I’d glimpsed the shadow of earlier replaced with amusement. “Your favourite colour is a radioactive shade of green, your favourite hobby is reading but it was jogging until the bully scared you away from it—I’ll kill him for that, by the way—your favourite coffee is caramel macchiato, your favourite food—”

“Okay, I believe you,” I cut in, shaking my head, my stomach in a strange freefall. “How did you find out all that shit anyway?”

He shrugged a shoulder, the tight motorcycle shirt he wore stretching across his chest. “Ten percent research, ninety percent listening.”

“You eavesdropped on my life.”

“Pretty much. It was fun.” At my incredulous look, he added, “I’d been bored for fifty years by then. Nothing exciting ever happens here, and going above doesn’t hold a single bit of appeal for me.”

“You went to Ford’s End with me, Miz, and Tor,” I pointed out, and immediately felt my face heat at the memory of him watching them take me against the side of the library. It cooled when I remembered Alastor had watched us. It made me feel dirty, inside and out.

“That was different,” Madde said, and didn’t elaborate.

I turned sideways so I could look at him head-on. “Different how?”

“You were there. You’d protect me.”

His words sent a lance through my heart, so fine and delicate I couldn’t tell if it was hurt or pleasure or surprise. “I can’t protect anyone, Madde. I don’t have magic like you all do, and I’ve never been physically strong. Maybe I should start training to fight.”

“Definitely. You’d be hot in all that training Lycra.” He groaned. “And training leather.”

My laugh this time was less rusty, my chest a fraction lighter. “Leather fetish. Nice.”

“Only on you. I haven’t wanted anyone else since I died. But you’re missing the point. You don’t need muscles to protect me. You wouldn’t let anyone hurt me, I know you wouldn’t.”

“No,” I murmured. He was my darkness, my faithful companion. My friend, I realised. “I wouldn’t.”

A smile parted his mouth, perfect teeth on show, blue eyes sparkling. He was so handsome I had to look away. Looking at him hurt.

“And you do have magic, now at least. You can change into a magnificent creature and rip people to shreds. That’s better than any light show or play of shadow. You’re glorious. Tigress, lioness, jaguar…ess.”

I snorted. “Is that a word?”

He was still smiling when I looked back at him, his eyes gentle on my face. “A hundred percent.”

I tore my gaze away, my stomach swooping with sudden nerves. I watched the town at the base of his castle, unable to help scanning for a tall man in a top hat and black coat watching us. There was no one, as there’d been no one each time I’d searched since that night. But he was out there; why else would he watch us? I thought it was someone sent by Nightmare, had thought it was Alastor finding a new way to torture me, but what if he had been watching Madness, not me?

“Who would you need protecting from, Madde?”

When he spun abruptly away from the window, my hand shot out and I snagged his wrist, tugging him back. His skin was warm under my fingers, his pulse quick.

“Who do you need protecting from?” I repeated, a little growl entering my voice. “I thought you couldn’t ever tell me no when I wanted something. I want to know who’s threatening you.”

Conflicting emotions flitted across his face, each one faster than the last: reluctance, dark glee, fear, arousal, panic, affection. Eventually, he settled on reluctance, but there was a gleam to his eyes that I couldn’t interpret.

“Why do you want to know?” he asked eventually.

Oh, that was sneaky. I was forcing him to voice his fears, and in payment he’d make me face the truth I kept running from.

I could let the subject drop right now, go back to looking out the window. Ignore the protective urge swelling against my ribcage.

That was different.

Different how?

You were there. You’d protect me.

I blew out a rough breath. “I want to know because you’re not just some random guy that came to help when Nightmare threatened us. You’re my darkness. There’s a connection between us and it. It matters to me. That you were there, never leaving me even at my worst. That matters. You said you’ll kill all my enemies; can’t I protect you from yours?”

I’d cross the bridge of not being strong enough to fight later. Like he said, I had my jaguar. If nothing else I could—I could do to them what I’d done to Poppy.

“And does that connection have a name?” Madde asked, a guarded hope in his blue eyes.

“No,” I replied, and watched the death of that hope in his eyes. It hit me like a dagger to the chest. “You’re just mine. No name, no title. Just… mine.”

I had no right making that claim when I had three husbands, but I couldn’t ignore the bond between Madde and I. And they knew; it wasn’t like I was confessing feelings for someone else behind their back. Not that I was confessing feelings. I was just saying there was something there. Between us.

Shit.

Madde’s whole face broke into a smile, and I squeaked when he grabbed me around the middle and lifted me into a spin, the duck blanket thing twirling around me like a circle skirt. I laughed, my head spinning a little when he set me back down.

“I respect your boundaries but I would like to note that I want to kiss you so badly my lips are going to die.”

“Noted,” I said, waiting for the landing to stop whirling around me. “You still owe me an answer, Madness.”

His happiness burst like a popped balloon, and the impact of it on my chest hurt so much that I reached for his arm, resting my hand there in silent support and apology. He dragged his long fingers through his hair, slicking strawberry strands back from his face, his eyes both sharp and distant.

“It’s not a pretty story, lioness.”

“I didn’t think it would be.”

His throat flexed against the black choker he wore, a hard swallow moving under his skin. “It starts three weeks before I died, actually,” he said far too flippantly, his eyes unfocused on the dark pink carpet running the length of the hall. “My father was an interesting man. And by interesting, I mean an evil maniac who was the head of an old mob family. He liked to kill people at the dinner table instead of torturing them in the basement like a civilised human being.”

I was sure my eyes were wide. I tried to wipe the expression off my face.

“He was very fond of shooting people, my father. Liked to hit ‘em right between the eyeballs.” He prodded himself in that spot manically, his finger shaking. I caught his hand and pulled it away, something inside me going both soft and sharp at the red mark he’d left there. I didn’t let go of his hand. “He shot the wrong person. Fool bastard started a fight with the Russians. They didn’t like the fact he’d murdered one of their higher-ups, so they took me to teach him a lesson.”

“They took you,” I echoed, the softness inside me turning to steel. I tightened my hold on his hand. “They kidnapped you?”

“Yup.” He popped the P, a manic smile on his face, and I wondered if that mania was armour, if it was the only thing keeping these memories at bay. “They went to town on me,” he said with a laugh. “Ripped out my fingernails, cut off my fingers, snipped off my toes, electrocuted me, blowtorched my chest; they spared no expense. It’s touching, really.”

“Madde,” I gasped, my gut clenching. God, he spoke of torture so casually, as if it was completely ordinary, but every word hit me with the force of a sledgehammer. Someone had done that to him, every one of those things. Ripped his fingernails off. Electrocuted him. Made him scream and bleed and sob. Horror settled over me like a layer of frost.

“That’s probably the most attention anyone ever gave me. I was always the disappointment, the overlooked son. My older brother was the prodigy, a real psychopath like my father. He was the one who found me when the Russians dumped me on the doorstep of the fancy-ass house we had in Manhattan. I remember the smirk on his face, the victory in his eyes. Smug bastard.”

I covered his hand with my other, holding it in both hands, my stomach a tangled knot. I was so shocked that rage or injustice couldn’t even form, just stunned horror.

“My father took one look at me there on the doorstep, beaten and wrecked, missing bits and pieces here and there, and sent me back.”

I must have heard him wrong. “What?” I breathed.

“He sent me back.”

Four words that hit like gunshots. The shock broke, frozen rage joining the horror in my chest. I dragged Madde into a hug and held on tight, though I should have been careful of any scrapes and bruises he got fighting the subjects.

“He sent you back,” I repeated.

“I’d shown weakness by allowing myself to be tortured.”

“You showed strength by surviving,” I snarled, my voice deep, my chest full of a growl. For once I wasn’t unsettled by the jaguar inside me. I was glad of it. “There’s nothing weak in survival.”

Madde’s breathing hitched, his gaze fixed down the landing. “You can probably guess what happened next. The pain and betrayal of it broke my mind. I became a real, raving lunatic. The Russians finally put me out of my misery, and that’s when I became Madness. It’s not all bad. I’m a big fan of the castle, and the power, and I can build statues whenever I want.”

I squeezed him tighter, his body like a furnace against me. Every heartbeat sent burning ice through me. “Is it your father you’re afraid will find you? Madde, he must be dead by now.”

“Oh, no,” Madde laughed. “Not him. My torturer and executioner. Dmitry. We got very well acquainted during my three week stint under his care. It wasn’t just the physical pain; he liked to play with my mind. I know it was all mind games and brainwashing now, but the trouble is he did a spectacular job of it. He promised there’d never be any escape from him, not in New York, not in any other country, not even in death. I know he meant it; I saw the gleam in his eye right before he burned a mark into my forearm. He’ll find me.”

I took a moment to breathe before I replied, the rage like a living thing inside me, coiling and coiling, tighter with every pass until my shoulders trembled. “It was a long time ago, Madde. That bastard will be dead. He can’t hurt you.”

Madde laughed, light and high and just a little frantic. “No, don’t you see? Where do the dead go, Cat?”

I sucked in a hard breath, my arms tightening around him. “Motherfucker,” I spat.

“I prefer motherclucker. Adds comedy value.”

His light-hearted comment made me crush his body to me, my arms shaking now, my hands too.

“I won’t let him get to you. I’ll rip the fucker into pieces before he can even look at you.” I couldn’t get the image of Madde tied to a chair, being burned and electrocuted and cut to shreds, out of my head. My heart was a deep, frantic thing, fury flowing through me with every beat.

I feel how much you want to kill him, my lioness, Madde said in my head, his voice more timid than it had ever been. How will you do it?

I swallowed, my thoughts full of blood and screams and exploding eyeballs. My jaguar could kill a ghost; it had killed Poppy. Eviscerated her. The memory filled me with new satisfaction when I thought about doing that to Madde’s torturer.

He shuddered against me, arms winding tight around me, hands splayed across my back.

Is that— I began, and drew back, needing to ask out loud. “Is that why you fixated on me, when you saw me… saw me kill Leo Windlow?”

“I was drawn to the madness in you, the violence. A dark ripple of it reached through the mortal world to the realm of the dead. It matched mine perfectly, so sweet I could almost taste it. But also… I watched you bludgeon him to death and thought, that’s a woman who could protect me.”

“Oh.” I’d been haunted by that night forever, its spectre always in the back of my mind no matter what I did, but this was the first time I saw it as a somewhat good thing. “I’m really not that dangerous, Madde. I just hit breaking point and… snapped.”

His eyes flared a little. “You look ravishing when you snap.”

I wanted to argue that I couldn’t do anything against a member of the Russian mob who was so vicious he’d tortured Madde for weeks, but if he was a ghost, that wasn’t true.

“Maybe he’s really, really dead, Madde. Not all spirits end up here, right?”

“Not all,” he allowed. “But if he isn’t here then…”

“Then?” I prompted, my hand flexing against his back.

“Then I’ve wasted a hundred years being afraid of nothing.” He exhaled a loud breath. “Oh, that’s depressing. Well, moving on!”

He tried to pull away from me but I tightened my grip, refusing to budge.

“He won’t get to you again, Madde,” I said. “Not just because I’ll protect you like you protected me all these years, but you’re dangerous, and powerful now. You’re not the same man who was tortured. You’re Madness, a death god with a castle and a fancy statue and really great hair.”

His eyes brightened, a grin creasing his freckled face. “I really do have great hair, don’t I?”

I wanted to kiss him so suddenly that it hurt to let go of him, but I forced myself to step back, pasting a smile on my face.

I began to change the subject, to ask what we’re going to do about the Stalker, but I closed my mouth when Death walked around the corner, his eyes gentle as they settled on me. Guilt soured my stomach, like I’d been caught doing something wrong.

“Come here a moment, little one. Madde, stay there.”

“Yessir.” Madde saluted.

My heart a mess, I crossed the hallway to Death, trying to gauge his expression but unable to find anything beneath the soft affection crinkling warm brown skin.

“Hey,” I said quietly, my shoulders slumping when he pulled me into an instant hug, surrounding me in warmth and safety and love. I rested my head on his shoulder and breathed his scent, the sweetness chasing away the worst of my nerves. “Were you listening?”

“Not intentionally,” he replied in a murmur, his lips against my temple. “I came to see if you’re hungry. Tor’s making his ayote picadillo.”

I nodded. I hadn’t eaten since this morning.

Death sighed, ruffling the fine hairs on my forehead. “Cat, kiss the mad bastard and end his suffering.” When I startled back, his lips brushed the tip of my nose. “End yours, too. I can see that it’s eating you up.”

“I feel like I’m cheating on you every time I look at him,” I whispered. “I hate it.”

Death’s lips found my forehead next, lingering for a long moment until my heart hurt. “I don’t want to share you, but I don’t like seeing you hurting, either. And like it or loathe it, he’s important to you. We had a conversation about it, just the three of us.”

I startled. “You did?”

“We did. It’s obvious that there are feelings between you and Madness—”

“I wouldn’t say feelings,” I cut in, my heart beating faster.

Death just levelled me with a patient look.

“Not exactly,” I modified, making him smile.

“I’m already sharing you with two men; another won’t kill me. Although if he hurts you in any way, all three of us will kill him.”

“Understood,” Madde called from the end of the hall.

I groaned, dropping my head onto Death’s shoulder, my face burning.

“You don’t need our permission,” Death said as if Madde hadn’t spoken, “but you have our approval.”

“You’re sure? Really sure?”

“Really sure.”

A strange flutter of nerves replaced the coil of guilt in my belly, intensifying when Death stepped back and winked. My face must have been a picture because he laughed, caressing a knuckle down my cheek before he stepped back around the bent in the hallway, leaving me standing there.

“Psssst,” Madde whispered behind me, bringing an instant smile to my face. “I’m still over here.”

“Really?” I turned, raising an eyebrow. “I thought you’d mysteriously vanished into thin air.”

“I can do that.” Dark smoke burst up from the floor, stealing him from view, and I might have been outraged or offended that he was running away now if he hadn’t materialised two feet in front of me. “See.”

My stomach exploded into a riot of nerves, my heart quickening. “Remember what you said a few minutes ago, over there?” I pointed to the spot in front of the window.

He contemplated. “About having my fingernails ripped off?”

Fury devoured my nerves until a growl shook my chest, bringing a bright smile to Madde’s face. “Not that.”

“About the blowtor—”

I respect your boundaries but I would like to note that I want to kiss you so badly my lips are going to die.

“Madness.” I tried to hook my fingers in his shirt, failed because it was so tight, then just grabbed his shoulder and dragged him closer. “Kiss me.”