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

CHAPTER TWO

CAT

T he familiar scent of Death’s domain made a weight sag off my shoulders, even if the smell of old books and honey was stronger, filling my lungs when I dragged in a sharp breath. For some reason, that scent made the clamp of panic around my chest fade away, right at the moment a masculine voice squealed with excitement.

“You’re here, you’re here, you’re finally here!” Hands plucked me away from Death, making my shoulders stiffen, but I was rendered dumb by the kisses that covered my face, the scent of honey so intense that I tasted it on my tongue.

When the kisses finally halted, the man who clutched my shoulders drew back, and I got my first real look at him. Strawberry blonde hair swept back from a tanned face cluttered with freckles, the coif currently flattened by an ivory veil, and electric blue eyes regarded me with vivid excitement. He was a strange mix of handsome and pretty, the dark eyeliner around his eyes drawing attention to the way he stared at me, a dimple forming in a freckled cheek when his smile grew, creasing those eyes. Everything, every last detail, screamed an intensity that made me a little uneasy. He spoke to me like he knew me, and that had alarm bells ringing.

I extricated myself from the stranger who rescued us and stepped back, knowing Death would be there to hold me. All at once, the strange man’s expression fell, his shoulders slumping as electric eyes grew big with sadness. He tore his stare from me, trailing it over Miz, Tor, Virgil, and Honey. The veil was a strange look, especially with the black leather waistcoat he wore with matching trousers, his arms bare to show hundreds of tattoos decorating his skin—hearts in every shape, size, and style, both figurative and literal, with sketches of flowers linking them. He looked like he’d gotten lost on the way to a Rocky Horror showing; he was just missing the fishnets.

“Alright then,” he said brightly, his smile reappearing. “Who has questions?”

“I have a few,” Tor slurred, snapping me back to reality.

“Shit,” I hissed, turning and rushing to grab his shoulders, hating the slur in his voice, the way he wavered on his feet. Especially hating the blood that stained his clothes, the dark red in far larger stains than the last time I saw them. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, beautiful. I just want to know what the fuck this asshole’s playing at,” he said through gritted teeth, his hand coming to rest on my waist, more of his weight leaning on me.

“Rescuing you?” the man suggested, tearing the veil off his head. “You’re welcome, you ungrateful bastards.”

“Who are you?” I asked, wrapping my arms around Tor when his weight shifted, his breathing laboured.

“I’m Love,” he said proudly, holding out his arms and striking a pose, those eyes shining as they glanced over everyone else and landed on me. My heart jolted in my chest, the way it had when I first glimpsed him confronting Nightmare. I’d been so weak, so tired, but just the sight of him had shot energy through my veins, infused me with strength, and I’d felt… okay. My darkness had been alive with the need for violence, urging me to rip Nightmare’s throat out, but I hadn’t felt like I did before I passed out.

I didn’t want to think about it. Any of it. The blood, the glowing yellow serum, the way it felt to look out through animal eyes and know I wanted to rip into my own friends and family with claws I shouldn’t possess.

“He’s Madness,” Misery cut into my thoughts, edging closer to me. “The physical embodiment of insanity.”

“No.” Madness jerked forward so fast I couldn’t track him, his eyes flashing with turbulent emotions and, like Miz said, insanity. “I’m Love now.”

“Okay, well, Madness, Love, whoever you are,” I cut in before tensions could rise any further. “Can you get a doctor? My husband is hurt.”

“Husband,” Honey echoed beside me, a little smile on her face she hid swiftly when I looked at her. Amusement uncurled in my chest, a tiny bit of light to fight the horrified darkness cresting in my soul. I was a monster, an animal, a thing of violence and horror, but in that moment, I remembered Honey teasing me about my three husbands and I was just Cat.

Madness didn’t reply for a long moment, watching me with an expression I couldn’t begin to interpret. It sent a chill down my spine. “Maybe you’re right, Misery. Maybe I’m just Madness.”

“A doctor,” I emphasised, Death coming around to support Tor as he sagged into me. It only took one look to know Death was injured too, his brown skin ashen. “Please,” I added, trying to calm down from the rage and panic of facing Nightmare. Death wasn’t attacking Madness, which meant we were safe, at least for the moment.

Madness’s eyes widened into sapphire orbs and he rushed closer to me, his hands coming up to frame my face. I froze at the warmth of them, the gentle touch. “You never have to use that word with me. I already sent for a doctor the moment you asked.”

“Oh. Okay. Thanks.”

He gave me a beatific smile, his teeth straight and pearly, his body vibrating with something I hesitated to label happiness. I decided Madness was an appropriate name for him. His energy was frenetic, completely unpredictable. And what the hell was that — you never have use that word with me. Which word? Please?

“Come along, little duckies,” he sang, spinning to face the atrium where the darkness had deposited us. Hairs rose on the back of my neck when I saw the gothic architecture, the four mezzanines stretching above us, flowing all the way to the glass roof. Moonlight draped gauzy light over that roof, picking out hints of colour in the dark atrium. I knew where the colours were, knew the carpets were deep pink, the drapes were crimson, the artwork on the walls painted in the colours of blood and stormy skies. I knew because I’d been here before.

I didn’t voice that, though, just gave Death a frantic look.

“We’ll be okay, little bride,” he promised, the eye contact settling me, those smoke-grey eyes calming my heart from a frantic sprint to a steady beat. “We’ll be safe here.”

Miz had stalked after Madness through a doorway under the dark staircase that led up to the mezzanine, disappearing into a room on the ground floor instead of scaling the stairs. He wouldn’t have gone with Madness if he didn’t believe we’d be okay here, too. Even if they weren’t friends with Madness, they all trusted him.

“Who is he?” I asked, aware of Tor leaning against me, his eyes fluttering, and aware of my brother and Honey hovering, listening.

“A god, like us. He’s one of the most psychotic, but the least cruel, so we consider him an ally. Plus, he’s never challenged me despite possessing an equal amount of power. Maybe even more power. That counts for a lot with me. He doesn’t hunger for status and control like most of the gods, so I trust him. To a point.”

“To a point,” I echoed, the phrase not exactly inspiring confidence. But I picked up my feet and he and I carried Tor towards the door Madness and Misery had flowed through.

“This whole thing is insane,” Honey breathed, scrubbing her hands over her face. I didn’t know what she’d done with the gun. “I shot Nightmare. I shot Nightmare.”

“It was a good shot, too,” Death replied with a faint smile. “You likely saved all of us with that shot.”

“Oh, well, I’m not as impressive as a death god, but my dad taught me how to shoot.”

I laughed at that, selfishly glad she was here. “If your mum finds out about that, she’ll have a hernia.” Her very conservative vicar mother. I imagined how her face would turn purple, and the smile felt more natural on my face.

A clattering din shattered the quiet and I flinched into Tor, knocking a groan from him. Death shored us both up, bracing his feet on the polished floor. “It’s just the rain on the roof, little one. We’re safe now. You’re okay.”

You’re okay. I was okay. Death was here, my men were here, they had me, I was okay. I exhaled a ragged breath and nodded. I had a feeling whatever strength I had right now, whatever strange strength the sight of Madness had given me, it would flee the moment I knew my husbands would be okay.

“Oof, look at that nasty thing,” Madness was saying as we entered, leaning down with his nose wrinkled as he peered at Miz’s arm. “It’s oozing.”

“What?” I demanded, leaning Tor into Death’s arms and rushing across the deep pink rug to Miz, barely noticing the warm living room around us, fire crackling from a mammoth fireplace to my left, a whole bank of glass windows on the wall behind the two death gods. All I saw was the gash on Miz’s arm that leaked a vicious black ichor as well as blood. “When did this happen?”

“I’m fine,” Misery said gently, lifting his good arm to curve his hand around the back of my head. “I’ve healed from worse. And I shouldn’t have said that,” he added at whatever he saw on my face.

“You should dismember anyone who ever hurt him,” Madness suggested seriously, “and rip out the hearts of every last one of them.”

“Yes,” I agreed, my chest swelling with a dark, violent need, the urge to slaughter everyone who’d ever hurt my man so strong my breath caught. “Wait.”

I jerked my face around to stare at Madness. He was watching me with a smile rounding his cheeks and something eerily close to adoration now in his eyes.

“That’s… but…” Those were the words my darkness spoke to me, that dangerous drive to kill that lived inside me, spoke to me. In Madness’s voice. It was the same voice.

“You’re my darkness,” I realised. My stomach plummeted. I didn’t know what this meant, how the hell it was even possible, but it explained why I kept waiting for true fear to hit me and it never did. Not just because Death trusted Madness, to a point, but because I… knew him.

Madness gasped loudly, his hands flying to his face, hearts decorating his knuckles, the backs of his hands inked with two halves of a broken heart. His eyes sparkled. I swore there were hearts in them, too. “You called me yours.”

I… hadn’t meant it that way. I didn’t understand his reaction. I didn’t understand any of this. I was tired and stressed and I didn’t want to think about anything that had happened tonight. And as Madness clapped his hands with frantic excitement, twirling in a circle on the rug like his joy couldn’t be contained, this was officially too much for my head to compute.

“Oh! Doctor’s here!” he said, some of his bright, manic joy softening at the ragged relief I did a bad job of hiding. “Kinda weird that none of you have asked how Virgil and Honey are still alive, by the way. I thought you’d be shouting at me by now.”

“What?” I whipped my stare between him, my brother, and my best friend. “Why wouldn’t they be…?”

“Entering my domain is a death sentence to all living beings,” Death said with a roughness to his voice, a burr of emotion.

Shame, I realised with a pinch in my stomach. “Shit, I didn’t even think. I’m so sorry. Madness, how did you do it?”

“I put up a lovely bubble of enchantments after I caught the scent of my lioness here last week. As long as neither one of you cuties step foot outside the front door—or the back door, I suppose—you won’t wither and fade away. Easy peasy, no decease-y.”

“That’s not alarming at all,” Honey muttered, tiredness weighing on her as she sat on the arm of a deep red tufted chair.

Virgil just stared at the god, measuring him in a way that was both familiar and completely new. There was a dangerous edge to my brother now.

My lioness.

He deserves so much more. End him, lioness.

He’s nothing, a shrew to your mighty lioness. Snap his fragile bones and snuff out the poisoned light he calls a soul.

Run. Get up and run and don’t stop running until this cursed building is far behind you. Move, lioness!

For a moment I stared into space as memories collided in my bruised mind, then a sudden flurry of activity startled me out of my frozen state. A silver man with a shock of fuzzy white hair had arrived, with a heavy-looking black bag in his hand, a stern-cut blue coat draped over him, and a scowling face I looked straight through. He was utterly transparent, not quite walking but floating, and for some reason that made me colder with fear than anything Madness had done.

“Careful,” Madness warned, his voice glacial and deep. “You’re scaring my lioness. Smile.”

It said a lot about what kind of man Madness was, and how much fear he inspired, that the ghost doctor’s lined face immediately stretched into a smile as he looked around the room. I shook myself out of my fear and rushed to Tor, Death and I laying him on a velvet sofa so deep red it was almost black.

“What happened to him?” the doctor asked in a crisp voice, keeping a respectful distance, still smiling. I shot Madness a look. He widened his eyes innocently.

“He was hurt by…” My voice dried up. By a monster, I was going to say. My face burned, ears prickling, the sensation moving down my neck. A monster like me.

“I can tell you more,” Virgil offered, stepping forward, his hand falling on my shoulder before I could burst into tears. I ignored the lump in my throat and remained there, staring at Tor, trailing my eyes over his beautiful face, both soft and stern even in sleep, his brow knotted, his mouth pursed. Was he in pain? He had to be; there was so much blood soaking through his suit pants and starched shirt.

I choked back tears, struggling to believe that Byron’s memorial had been only hours ago. It was surreal that we were all in our finery, mine ripped and dirty, my legs covered in muck. It was a sign of how bad the night was when I didn’t know if the dirt came from Phil dragging me through the forest or because I—because of when I changed into.

“He was harmed by a hybrid animal that was engineered especially to hurt death gods,” Virgil explained, making my head snap up, watery eyes locking on him. I’d been engineered to hurt my death gods? My lungs compressed, forcing out the last scrap of air. “There’s a serum, don’t ask me to explain what it is because I don’t know. But it can change an ordinary person into a wild animal. A predator. Each one is different, I don’t know what influences our forms, but we come with claws and teeth and venom, and that venom is dangerous to the gods.” He glanced across me to Death. “I don’t know how long it’ll make you weak. I don’t know if it can be cured.”

“It can,” I said in a voice of raw darkness.

I looked from Virgil to the doctor, my heart beating so hard I felt each crash against my ribs. Heat and fury roared through my head, quieting everything else. My hands shook; I curled them into fists.

“It can be cured,” I said, looking at the doctor until he glanced away, “because I refuse to lose him. And if you don’t heal him, you’ll wish you were truly dead. You’ll wish there wasn’t a single speck of you left in this domain, because I don’t know how to torture a spirit, but if you don’t heal my men, I will find out.”

“Cat,” Misery breathed, brushing my back with a firm hand, his scent surrounding my senses with calming violets and snow.

I should have regretted the threat, but there was too much howling noise inside me to regret anything. And the threat got the doctor rushing to Tor, opening his bag to search through his instruments, so I didn’t apologise.

“It’s because it’s so soon after your change, Cat,” Virgil said sombrely. “Your emotions will be in flux for a while.”

“How long is a while?” Death asked, his voice even in a way I knew was forced.

Virgil didn’t answer. I couldn’t worry about that right now. For the moment, my panic at what I’d become got swept firmly behind a wall of protective rage, and I was happy to leave it there.

“Lioness,” Madness said, appearing on my left so suddenly that I jumped. “There’s no emotional wound a cup of tea can’t miraculously heal. Here, it’ll help.”

“I don’t want tea,” I muttered, returning my attention to Tor as the doctor reached for Tor’s trousers. A noise came from me that I had no way of making, low and guttural and inhuman. It cut off instantly when I choked on a gasp, my fear rushing back to the surface, icy and cold.

“Tough titties,” Madness argued, gentle as he grabbed my numb hands and wrapped them around a garish mug that said MADDE’S NUMBER ONE GIRL in green against the hot pink background. “Drink.”

“What’s in it?” Death demanded, his hand catching mine, halting me from drinking.

“Chamomile, passion flower, peppermint, lemon, and a special ingredient.”

Death never looked away from Madness. I kept my eyes on Tor as the doctor very timidly stripped off his trousers to get a good look at the wound. My eyes watered, stabbing with tears when I saw the vicious gouge in the back of his thigh. Worse, so much worse than Miz’s. Darkness oozed from it like tar.

“What’s the special ingredient?” I barely even knew what Death was talking about. I couldn’t take my eyes away from Tor’s wound.

Firm hands prised Death’s fingers off of mine. “Love. Now let her drink.”

I didn’t protest as the mug was lifted to my lips. He could drug me; I didn’t care right now. I was a monster, exactly like the creature that had ripped Tor’s thigh open, carved a slash through Miz’s arm and—

I swallowed and looked at Death. “Where are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, little one,” he replied, and I could have sunk into the warmth of his voice, could have let it soothe me, but he was sallow and sweat dotted his face and I knew him. He was hurt but pretending everything was okay so he could take care of us.

“Where?” I insisted, pushing through my panic and numb horror to meet his eyes. “Tell me.”

“My back,” he sighed, letting me see all the way to his soul. He was as tired as I was, and hurt, not just by pain but because we were hurt. I rested my head on his shoulder, letting my gaze trail up to Miz, too.

“It wasn’t your fault,” I said, making sure to look each of them in the eye. “It wasn’t your fault anyone got hurt.”

It was Nightmare’s.

I watched the doctor like a hawk as he assessed Tor, muttering to himself, and applied some sort of green goop to the open wound, covering it in a bandage. He searched his chest and found puncture wounds on his shoulder that made me sick. I drank the rest of my tea and didn’t ask if the poultice would help. He’d either say something I didn’t like or lie to me.

“The antidote,” I rasped to Virgil, hesitant to meet my brother's eyes as I thought of everything he’d been through. “Could it heal them?”

He sighed, his eyes tight, face covered in grime that was a stark reminder of where he’d been held captive. There were cuts and needle marks beneath the grime, evident now we stood under bright lighting, but I forced myself not to stare at them even if my throat filled with raw edges. “I wish I knew, Cat. But we can’t spare any vials.”

“To heal my men, we can,” I argued in that voice of darkness, dropping an octave until it was so deep, I barely heard it.

“What antidote?” the doctor asked, rising to his feet and already looking to Miz.

Virgil explained while I watched Tor sleep, my hands tightening around the mug in my hands.

“See how he fares overnight,” the ghost man said after he’d considered all options. “We may have to try it tomorrow morning.”

That statement formed a lead lump in my stomach. I just nodded, watching him squint at the slash on Miz’s arm, repeating the poultice and green sludge, doing the same to Death’s back. Numbness crept in further, heavy and cold. I stood there, helpless, frozen down to my bones.

“She’ll come back for us,” I said before I’d processed the intention to speak. “She’ll want to finish the job she started.”

“She can try.” The icy words came from Madness. “She won’t get through me.”

I dragged my eyes slowly to him, my stare reluctant to leave Tor. “Why?”

His smile was slow and genuine. “Like you said, I’m your darkness.”

“You’ve been with me this whole time,” I said, a hollowness spreading to my voice, too. “Since that night in June. Haven’t you?”

“Every day since,” he confirmed.

I didn’t know what to make of that. I just shook my head, tired, hurting deep in my chest. I realised my stare had dropped from his freckled face to a spot on his chest where a tattoo peeked above the leather V of his waistcoat, his eyes too intense to hold eye contact. Because of that I didn’t realise his arms were moving, coming towards me, until my legs were knocked from under me and I was swept up in strong arms. The scent of honey burned away the blood in my memory.

“Madness,” Miz warned, an edge entering his tired voice. “Put my girl down.”

I liked being called his girl.

“She’s burned almost all the way out, like a cute little candle left burning too long,” Madness explained patiently. “She needs to sleep. I have a room all ready and prettified. You can all stay with her,” he added quickly, “I made sure the bed was big enough for five.”

That was… sweet.

“I’ll be back in the morning. Rest now,” the doctor input, his voice still rife with fear. I’d done that. Shame hit me even if I didn’t quite regret the words. This wasn’t who I was; I didn’t scare people and enjoy it. But the spirit grabbed his bag and ran through the solid wall instead of taking the front door, rushing to escape me.

“I can carry her,” Death offered as Madness began to walk.

The god tsked. “You need to carry Torment. I’ve got her. I'll never, ever drop her. I’d pinky promise you, but I don’t have a hand spare.”

It was awkward, being carried by a man I didn’t know, but as strange as it felt, there was something familiar about it, something that reminded me of the way darkness wrapped around me in my lowest moments, encouraging me of my strength at my weakest.

I watched as the living room’s grey ceiling changed to the glass roof of the atrium, rain drumming the glass as Madness carried me towards the tall, sweeping staircase. It was a lovely castle, not quite as cold or dark as Death’s, but I longed for black halls and familiar rooms that had begun to feel like home.

Miz followed us up the stairs, saying nothing but hovering close enough that his presence was a comfort to me and a warning to Madness. I watched him over Madness’s shoulder, the sight of those golden eyes soothing me, promising he’d never let anyone hurt me. Not hating me for what I’d become, not judging or fearing me. He looked at me the same way he had this evening, before we walked to Byron’s memorial together—with affection and heat and low, simmering obsession.

“This is your room, lioness,” Madness declared when he’d carried me up to the first mezzanine, strolling down a corridor that branched off from the left, lined with three doors each painted a different jewel tone. He stopped in front of the deep cerise door and carefully set me on my feet.

“Thank you, Madness,” I said, trying to outrun my memories of a cottage in the woods, a room lit in green, a shelf full of vials of blood, and a cage with my brother in it. Thoughts of Phil began to spill out, but I cut them off like hacking off the head off a slug. That was what these memories were—slimy and unpleasant.

“Madde,” Madness corrected, startling me from the memories with a warm brush of knuckles to my jaw. “I’m Madde to you.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Miz said tightly, wrapping a possessive arm around my waist.

I blinked, looking down at the empty mug I still held. MADDE’S NUMBER ONE GIRL. I blinked again, rapidly, my eyes stinging.

“You’ve been with me for three years,” I said quietly, my voice a rasp that made the arm gentle around me. “Through everything?” I couldn’t think of a single day when the darkness hadn’t been there, keeping me company while my thoughts spiralled, trauma screaming at me like Leo’s mother had screamed when she learned what became of her son. I was a killer. I’d arrived at Ford already broken; Nightmare had only destroyed what shards remained. “Through all of it?”

Madde watched me closely. “I have.”

That was it. The final straw. I burst into sharp, broken sobs.