Page 42 of All Hallows Masque

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Cat

Iknew it wasn’t real, but that didn’t stop me racing up the temple steps and across the stone floor to Torment, my heart racing at the sight of him, at those familiar tattoos sprawling around his neck and down his arms.

“Tor,” I gasped, my eyes stinging when he lifted his head and those latte brown eyes locked on me, a fierce grin breaking across his rugged, beautiful face. Even if it was a lie, even if the illusion would end, I would take what I could get. If it was a few moments, so be it.

I threw my arms around his shoulders, clinging to him, filling my lungs with amber and sandalwood. “What are you wearing?” I laughed, pulling back an inch to look at the leather straps criss-crossing his chest, fastening a sword to his back, and the skirt—and I used that word lightly—formed of daggers of bronze leather. His strong thighs were bared, tanned a deep gold tone,and he was wearingsandals.“Did you get lost on the way to the World’s Sexiest Hercules Convention?”

He snorted, his arms binding me to his body, strong and wonderful and so much like home that a lump rose to my throat. “Hercules was a weakling compared to me.”

“And I bet his modesty could never compare to yours either,” I quipped with a smile, settling closer against him. A tightness left my chest and unwound from my shoulders. Being in Tor’s arms feltright.And maybe this didn’t have to be fake. Maybe this was like the vision of him the first night, when we kissed under moonlight in the conservatory. That had feltreal.

His lips skimmed my cheekbone, coaxing a sigh from me. For long minutes we stood there in the temple, the world hushed and murmuring around us, not another soul in the temple or any of the surrounding city. It was like we stood in the middle of Ancient Rome. I half expected an emperor to come barrelling down one of the pristine roads in a chariot.

“That’s all your fault, you know?” he asked in a gravel-choked voice, lifting his arm to point at something behind me.

“I can’t take credit for the entire Roman empire,” I quipped, still focused on our surroundings.

“No,” he disagreed, a foreign hardness entering his voice. That was how he spoke to his enemies, to threats. It was how he’d spoken to Nightmare—with rage and disgust. With hatred.“That.”

His words alone made my throat close up, but when I prised myself from his strong arms, already mourning the comfort of them, I turned to the front of the temple and inhaled sharply. A single black, shining headstone thrust from the sandy stone at the foot of the temple. Whose?

“Tor, whose grave is that?” I breathed.

He didn’t answer. The dead silence brought the prickle of goosebumps to my arm.

“Tor?” I repeated, looking over my shoulder, and swallowing hard when I saw the temple was empty. No surly, tattooed husband who always had a quippish remark and a smile for me, who’d gone to extreme lengths to protect me, who could bring a smile to my face even when the world was in ruins.

I swallowed against the lump in my throat and faced the headstone again, forcing my limbs to work even though I’d started to go numb. I had to know whose grave that was. I was terrified to know, but Ihadto.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew Cruelty was somewhere pulling the strings of this scene, but my emotions werereal.The temple under my feet, the baking heat of sun on my skin, the scent of patchouli, spices, and … was that sewerage? It was allreal.And it was hard to remember this was a dream when every detail was as genuine and true as Darkmore Manor, as Ford, as Death’s domain.

I choked back a breath and descended the temple steps, scanning the city for signs of life, for anyone. Forher.Cruelty. I dreaded to see her almost as much as I wished I wasn’t alone. I wanted Tor back, but his words had burrowed into my brain and refused to leave, and I couldn’t stand the thought of hearing more.

That’s all your fault, you know?

The grave, the death.

Whose?

My bones locked up as I pushed myself on, close enough to make out the shape of words even if my vision was too blurry to read them. I blinked it clear and frowned.

I HOPE YOU DON’T MISS HIM TOO TERRIBLY, BECAUSE I’M KEEPING HIM.

I could almost hear Cruelty saying that in her bubbly, giggling voice. Strength poured into my bones in the form of rage, and I stalked around the grave, knowing somehow thatthere’d be a name on the other side of it. She was messing with me, screwing with my head, and I had to tell myself that over and over as my breathing raced, as I began to hyperventilate.

That’s all your fault.

I swallowed, hesitating at the last step, my eyes on the city at the base of the temple. I didn’t want to look. But I had to know.

I’d never wanted Madde’s voice in my head so badly. What would he say right now?

She’ll never take any of us from you, my lioness. You’ll rip her fingernails out if she even tries to lay a hand on us, and then cut her fingers off one by one, andthendismember what’s left of her hand. Ooh, maybe you should scoop her eyeballs out with a rusty ice cream scoop for good measure? Or—

The Madness in my imagination had an overflowing list of violent suggestions. I wiped a tear from my cheek and sucked up all my courage so I could look at the name on the grave.

I’d been expecting Death.

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