Page 4 of All Hallows Masque

Madde let go of me to scrape a hand through his hair, tugging on the short strands, shaking his head over and over.

“How the fuck do we get her back?” Tor demanded, a growl finally entering his voice, giving me strength. Fuck dread and hopelessness; I needed to stay angry. Passion was strength, and anger was passion. I could use it.

“We’ll find a way out,” I said with absolute certainty. There was no other option, no other way to live.

Likefuckwas I staying trapped here while my wife was in another realm. “I don’t know what the hell she’s playing at, or what Cruelty’s done to lure her away from us, but we need to fix the domain first.” I glanced at Death. “We can’t get out of here with the whole place falling down around us and—”

Mist poured in around my legs, an icy brush at my ankles, then my calves, then my thighs. It happened so fast I couldn’t run. Even if I could, there was nowhere to go. White mist consumed the realm as far as I could see.

I locked eyes with Death, then Tor, then Madde, the four of us sharing a single moment of panic. And then the fog rushed in and I lost them all.

2

Cat

Cold trickled through me like icy water from a faulty tap. The part of myself I gave up to save Miz, that single drop of life that moved from my lips to his. It was like a cold spot inside me. An absence.

I didn’t have the nerve to ask what lacking that drop would do to me when my only companion was a smiling psychopath in a lace wedding gown. Cruelty linked our elbows, and now she towed me through an aisle of low, manicured hedges towards a sprawling Georgian manor. The sky was a depressing grey, crowded with clouds that threatened to douse the manor and the hill it perched upon in drizzle. Not that you’d guess the dreariness by the pure glee on Cruelty’s face. No, not even glee.Happiness.

She essentially blackmailed me into being here, withholding information about how to save Misery until I agreed to followher. And she thought we were besties? She practically skipped through the landscaped garden up to the front doors.

This place was beautiful, I had to admit, even if I was here against my will. The stone was a soft champagne colour, with gabled roofs, and silvery windows stretching over three floors. Columns of aged stone framed the front door, but it was the glass structure at the far end of the manor that drew my eye. It looked like something that should have housed an exhibition of inventions in the 1800s—an arched glass and iron conservatory topped by a domed roof.

“What is this place?” I asked, craning my neck to see all the way to the roof as we approached, the hedges giving way to a manicured lawn. Who kept the grounds on this place? I couldn’t imagine Cruelty going out with a lawnmower on a Sunday morning. Did she have staff? I peered around the grounds but didn’t see anyone but us. Actually, there wasn’t a single living soul as far as I could see: at the base of the hill, moorland gave way to a small village that sat eerily still. Beyond it, another hill rose, a similar manor at its peak. No movement at all beyond trees rustling in the wind.

“My home,” Cruelty replied brightly, her voice musical and sweet. It grated my nerves until I had to fight the urge to rip the lace hood off her dress and tear out fistfuls of her hair.

I forced a deep breath, managing my anger and my jaguar. My subject form wanted to leap out of my skin, wanted to shred her to pieces. But something told me this death god would be harder to kill than Nightmare. I knew, deep down, I’d only been able to kill Nightmare because Crueltywantedme to.

“Welcome to Darkmore Manor. My palace!”

You’ll never survive in the palace.The Stalker’s words, crisp with derision, replayed in my head.

“Darkmore isn’t an ominous nameat all,”I muttered under my breath. Not quietly enough judging by Cruelty’s high, tinkling laughter.

“If you think that’s bad, wait until you hear the name ofthatplace.” She pointed a long, elegant finger at the other manor. “It’s called Deadwood Academy.” Cruelty faked a shudder, or maybe it was genuine horror. Where I stood, Darkmore wasn’t any better than Deadwood, but I suppose it didn’t have the worddeadin it. “The village, Darkwood, was established by Fear,” Cruelty added, as if that explained everything.

I thought of the gods who’d come to help us at Death’s plea and wondered if any of them were Fear: the pink-haired, drawling goddess; the curly-haired man with the kind eyes and gentle voice; the small woman who reminded me of Edna from theIncredibles; the giant whose monotone voice and bearing made me nervous; and the solemn, long-haired Native man whose voice was deeper than thunder. Which of them was Fear? Or was Fear another—one of the gods who ignored Death’s call for help?

I was so distracted that I barely even noticed Cruelty had led me through the door and into a richly appointed entryway. Old tiles chequered the floor in squares of black and white, interrupted only by a large Persian rug in a similar vermillion colour to the walls and the carpet that crawled up the dark stairs to the second floor. It would have been dark if not for the stained glass doors we’d entered, the huge golden chandelier dangling threateningly above us, and the lamps that hunched over portraits of people in historical dress.

“How long have you lived here?” I asked, curious despite myself. What I really wanted to know was,How old are you?Was she as old as Death? Older?

Cruelty squeezed my wrist and finally released me, spinning on the spot to give me a beaming grin. “Do you like it? It’smy favourite acquisition in the mortal realm. I got Darkmore around twenty years ago, mostly to irk Fear. She’s my brother’s mortal enemy, you know.”

“You have a brother,” I said, vaguely remembering her mentioning him before. “Did you torture him like you tortured mine?”

I knew it wasn’t smart to provoke her. I was acutely aware that I was human and easily killed, and she was an indestructible god, but while I could mask my anger, my grief for Honey was so vast it could fill an ocean. There was no building a dam to contain it, no hiding it. I wanted to scream and howl and drive her head into the dark lion head at the end of the staircase banister.

Cruelty sighed and crossed the gleaming floor to grasp my hands, holding them firmly like we were old friends. Like she hadn’t murdered both of my best friends. Everything Nightmare did was at Cruelty’s command.Shewas the reason Nightmare controlled Miz. She was the reason he killed Byron. And Honey…

My whole body vibrated as Cruelty held onto me. She killed my best friend with her own hands. All so she could pretend to be her, to fuck with us.Why?To get a kick out of us all being oblivious?

“A sprinkle of suffering was necessary to make Poppy’s cavalry of creatures. And they turned out so perfectly.” I froze in place when she released my left hand to touch my face.1 “Look atyou.You’re powerful now. Strong. You can rip your enemies to pieces. All because of Poppy and a little suffering. Your brother will be fine; he’s strong like you.”

“That’s not the point,” I managed to grind out through clenched teeth. I twisted my face away, but she didn’t drop her hand and fear spread through me like a disease, slowing my reaction times, slowing my mind. Killing my rage. That fear grew, until cold wrapped around my spine like a cold-bloodedserpent. Sweat pricked my brow, every bit as icy. I wanted to burst out of the door and run across the moors, screaming for help. “You hurt him. He’s scarred and a—”

“Monster?” she guessed how I was going to finish, her irritation melting to sympathy. “It must be scary to watch your brother turn into a huge, blood-hungry beast and hunt down your friends, your teachers. I’d be horrified if that happened tomybrother.” Bright, glittering laughter shattered the next moment, her face splitting in a grin. “Lord, my brother would be anawfulmonster. Truly horrific. I think he’d devour the whole world. Luckily for you, I have no intentions of making any more of Poppy’s perfect creatures.”

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