Page 22 of All Hallows Trick (Sick and Twisted #3)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CAT
I t was too easy to convince Tor to come with me to the castle. Far too easy. Guilt twisted my stomach but I reminded myself of that look in Miz’s eyes when he let his fear show, and I quashed any guilt.
I didn’t know how I was going to lose Tor inside the castle, but I’d think of something. Getting there was the most important thing, and Miz’s episode, as terrifying as it had been, gave me an excuse.
He needed Peach, and it was about time we rescued her from Death’s castle, even if Miz argued that she’d be sulky to leave her favourite enclosure. That was why she’d stayed when we all left. And because she was no ordinary prairie dog. I didn’t understand how, but Miz promised she was capable of defending herself. 1
The image of Peach waving a magic wand and cursing her enemies almost made me smile until I remembered I wasn’t really here for Peach. I was here because someone warned that Miz was dying and said they could save him, and it had to be Pain. Who else could it be? No one else knew he’d bound his magic.
“We don’t linger,” Tor warned, his hand wrapped around mine, the weight of it a reassurance I felt deep in my soul as his magic set us down on the steep road that led from the settlement below to Death’s castle. “We’ve cleared the place, and there are no subjects left, but it’s better to be careful.”
“You’ve said that three times,” I replied, unable to resist smiling to tease him even if my mood was dour. “We’ll be fine. We won’t be here long.”
He squeezed my hand. “You can’t blame me for being a little OTT given the last time we were here, we were ambushed by subjects and Poppy.”
“Poppy’s dead,” I said quietly, ignoring the burn in my thighs at the steep path. “And I—after what I did to her spirit, I don’t think she’s coming back.”
“No,” Tor agreed, his eyes warm on the side of my face. “Have I mentioned how proud I am of you for that?”
“For killing a woman?”
“For standing up for yourself when you were afraid, and yeah, for ripping her to shreds until there wasn’t a speck of life left. You don’t need to be ashamed, Cat. She was a threat, and you wouldn’t be one of us if you allowed that threat to live. It’s what we do; we’re ruthless with our enemies.”
His words warmed my chest and put a slight smile on my face.
“You’d never kill someone who didn’t deserve it,” he went on. “I don’t want to see any of that guilt in your beautiful eyes from now on. Understood?”
I leaned into him as we walked. “Understood. And Tor?”
“Yeah, beautiful?”
“I’m proud of you, too. The way you commanded the spirits was impressive. And hot.” His eyes shot to mine; I’d surprised him. “It was really, really hot.”
“Oh, yeah? Even with my gorgeous rotted appearance?”
I nudged his shoulder, the heat of him seeping into me in sharp contrast to the icy bite of the air. It felt like it would snow. “I’m not saying I’m attracted to walking, talking corpses, but knowing it was you … changes things. So yeah, even with your gorgeous, rotted appearance. You’re hot as fuck, and you’re mine, no matter what you look like.”
He tugged on my hand until I stopped in the middle of the steep road, a soft sigh leaving me when his other hand curved along my jaw and tilted my face up for a slow, thorough kiss that left my heart pounding. Silvery light intruded on the moment, the moon deciding to hit my eyes right at the moment they fluttered open. I squinted through it, momentarily blinded.
“Behind me,” Tor ordered, the sudden growl of his voice startling me. Cold air hit my hot cheeks, slapping me out of my daze, and I realised the light wasn’t coming from the moon but from fifteen ghosts floating across the road. Their movements were something from a kid’s cartoon, not the way I was used to seeing spirits—walking and talking and acting generally alive despite having no pulse. Or no physical body. But these were ghosts as I’d expected them, mouths hanging open, eyes opaque and unseeing, movements gliding and eerie. Each of them bore a mortal wound.
“Tor,” I whispered, my hand on his back, my heart kicking into a sprint.
“They’re drawn to me, I think. Because I’m a god, and because of my magic. They won’t hurt us.”
“You don’t know that! Turn all gooey and command them.”
“There’s nothing left of them to command,” he admitted. “Even with the spirits who live in the realm, there’s a spark of something, a remnant of a soul. That’s what’s been ripped from them. Look, that man’s throat has been cut, that woman’s been gutted, and it looks like the old man was run through by a sword.”
“That’s… a lot of different ways to die,” I said, my brow knotting. “None of them have claw marks or bites,” I noticed, looking closer. The spirits in the courtyard had their throats ripped out by the subjects, or limbs ripped off, heads bitten clean off their necks. These were… precise wounds. Intentional. “The subjects didn’t do this, and I don’t think they killed the first ghost that was left as a message for us, either.”
“Neither do I,” Tor agreed grimly. “Let’s move. They might follow but they won’t engage.”
“What happened to the first man? The sailor? Where did he go?” I asked, taking careful steps up the road, casting a quick glance to make sure we weren’t surrounded.
“Nothing happened for a few hours, then he just… faded away.”
“Like the realm’s fading,” I murmured, my chest tight. “Maybe whatever’s doing this to the spirits is the same reason streets keep decaying and disappearing. Maybe it’s all connected.”
“I don’t doubt it is. Move faster.”
The spirits were getting nearer, almost like they were herding us… Cold shot like ice down my back, making me shudder. Was it a coincidence these ghosts were guiding us towards the castle at the same time I had a meeting with a mysterious letter writer?
“Could a death god do this?” I asked, a little breathless. “Could they do this to a ghost?”
“Fuck knows. I’ve never seen anything like this before this week, so I have no damn clue. I wouldn’t know where to start trying to kill a ghost.”
“During your fights, you’ve never… killed anyone?”
“I’ve knocked the head off a cocky bastard before, but he just set it back on straight and kept punching me. I don’t think this is us, Cat. I think it’s Poppy and Nightmare.”
“And the Stalker,” I said, a sharp twist in my stomach. We hadn’t seen him for days, and we’d never seen him up close. He could have been anyone. He could have been the one who wrote the note. But if that was the case, he’d offered to help. I bit my lip, torn with indecision. But it kept coming back to four words. Your husband is dying. I knew it was true; I’d watched Miz weaken, and I didn’t want to admit that I sensed the death gathering around him but… I did. I felt it growing every day.
I’m jumping to conclusions. Even if I’m meeting the Stalker, there’s nothing to say he’s the one who’s going around killing ghosts. Or maybe he has a good reason for killing ghosts or—
I cut off that spiral with a vicious mental slash, not wanting my panic to reach Madde. I needed to stay calm, in control, and to get help from the person who left the note. From Pain or the Stalker or whoever it was—it didn’t matter. If they could save Misery, I’d accept whatever help they offered.
“They’re not attacking, see,” Tor said. The relief in his voice told me he’d been less confident in that than he’d seemed. “They just want to be seen before they fade away.”
Or whoever killed them wanted them to be seen. I kept that thought to myself, my shoulders tightening when I glanced up and saw Death’s castle blotting out the moonlight. We were here.