Page 41 of All Hallows Masque

Or maybe she was still trying to trick me into thinking she had Death captive. But I knew the truth now, and if she thought I’d fall for her tricks again, she was a fool.

I clenched my jaw and ignored the cloying floral scent, pushing back the flashes of memory, faint strains of music reaching my ears when I headed towards the hallway. A little chill crawled down my arms. What were the chances thosewere the same musicians from the masquerades at Ford? High, I thought. Were the courtiers here too? I couldn’t see anyone living, only those sculpted from plaster and stone.

I eyed one of them as I passed, whirling around as if I’d catch it mid-motion. But it wasn’t alive, just a sculpture. I shook my head at myself, the bones of my circlet digging into my forehead. “I’m going fucking mad.”2

I tried to figure out the theme of this masquerade to prepare myself for what Cruelty would throw at me. Golden leaves were artfully draped over surfaces, and hung around doorways. A forest theme? No, I realised when I spied a bronze helmet with rich red plumage sitting pointedly on a tall dresser. Not a forest theme—a Roman theme. Or was it gods and heroes?

If she threw me into a coliseum to battle to the death, I was going to rip her apart. I thought of the stone square in the back garden, and how easily that could be turned into an arena if she wished.

I checked the kitchen first, but found it empty of everything except a statue couple caught in a moment of close, romantic dancing. And of course, more flowers—a huge bouquet of violets and tulips hulked on the marble island, taunting me. I gave them the middle finger and ducked back into the hall, searching the sitting room, then a storage closet, and a laundry room.

I jumped when movement came from the bend in the corridor ahead, immediately raising my fists and poising right on the edge of where my jaguar lived. I wouldn’t hesitate to shift if—oh.

“It’s you,” I muttered, eyeing the Stalker a.k.a. Orwell Ford as he appropriately stalked closer. His shoulders were tight, anger darkening his face to something dangerous.

“Yes, it’s me, everyone’s favourite ray of fucking sunshine,” he spat. “If you want my advice? Get the hell out of this place? The whole manor is fucked up.”

“I’ve noticed,” I drawled, watching him carefully as he neared, his steps harsh and loud, his body like a threat as he came closer. It was then that I noticed he wore a skin-tight black shirt with overlapping scales of bronze leather armour at his shoulders and climbing over his forearms. And—Jesus, was that a shield strapped to his back? “Nice outfit.”

“Fuck off.”

His eyes pinned me with seething hatred. But I’d stood up to gods and goddesses, and finding out he was Duncan’s cousin had removed some of the terror from the Stalker for me. I held my ground as he came within two feet, unstrapping something long, thin, and metallic from his back.

“Take this,” he muttered. “You’re gonna fucking need it.”

“Uh. Thanks.” I fumbled to catch the spear he thrust at me, giving it a strange look. “Why are you helping me?”

“I can count my friends on one finger.” He held up the middle one, pausing to give me a glare. “And she’s got him locked up because he had the misfortune of being bound to you.”

“Alfie?” I blurted, rushing across the hall to Orwell. “Have you seen him?”

“Not since yesterday,” he admitted.

“Fuck,” I breathed, running my hand over my hair and wincing as the sharp edge of the circlet cut my skin.

“Yep.” With nothing more to say, Orwell began to storm away. “Good luck, Cactus.”

“Hey!” I jerked after him, latching my hand around his arm and wincing at howcoldhis skin was. “You were going to take me to him before, weren’t you? If you’d help me then, why not now?”

“I’m not going back in that fucking library,” he snarled, and tore his arm free. “You go in there, and you’re on your own. If you have any sense, go back to your room and lock the door.”

“Andthenwhat?” I hissed quietly, leaning closer. “Do this forever? Keep hiding while she comes up with new ways to torment us?”

“If that’s what it takes to stay alive? Yes.” He whipped around and marched away. I threw up my hands, exasperated and angry. I needed backup. There were two of us, and those were much better odds than confronting Cruelty alone, but fine.

“Fine,” I muttered. “Be a coward.”

“It’s called surviving, and you should try it sometime,” he fired back, walking away with his shield rattling on his back.

I tightened my hand around the spear he’d given me, eyeing the whorls of gold along the handle, and I sighed. I abandoned my brief fantasy of fighting Cruelty with someone at my back. I’d do it alone, then.

The library, he said.

I set my jaw, pulled my shoulders back, and lifted my head. I’d had enough of Cruelty’s mind fuckery. I was ending this today.

Pale columns flanked the library door now, gold leaves spiralling around them, but I strode right past them and threw open the door.

One step inside and the door slammed shut behind me. But the library was nothing like it had been on my initial tour. There were no towering bookshelves, no green leather sofas, no tall, arching windows flooding the room with natural light. Instead, I stood on the steps of a temple with real, stone columns around me, and before me, standing in the heart of the temple, was Tor.

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