Page 56 of All Hallows Masque

A lump formed in my throat the size of a golf ball, and I got the sudden and irrepressible urge to punch myself in the face. But I’d have to let go of the shell and the shadow to do that, and there was the barest damn chance finding Pain would lead me to my wife; I wasn’t about to sacrifice that. Even if I felt like utter shit for snapping at Death.

I expelled a rough breath, straightening my shoulders as I focused inward, holding the shadow with all my attention. I recalled the moments I’d met Pain throughout the years, remembering a handful of awkward, cheesy jokes, references to TV I’d never seen, music I’d never heard, and whatever the fuck a Sega Megadrive was.1 He was a good guy. An oversharer, and a total fucking dork, but he had a good heart. A big heart. He was loyal, and always willing to help when we needed it. Even if his help had got Miz’s power blocked and started a process of deterioration that led to Cat making a deal with Cruelty to save him. I couldn’t blame Pain though. That was all Cat, protective and sweet and fiercely defensive of us.

Fuck, it hurt to breathe when I thought of her. I tried to guide my mind back to Pain, but it was difficult. Almost fucking impossible. She was the world we revolved around. Our true north, and without her we had no direction.

I missed her so much it was like a corkscrew gouging a spiral through the delicate muscle of my heart. Hundreds of years later, and I was still a soft fucker, my heart still willing to lovewith every last pump of blood, every last beat, no matter how weak it grew.

I swallowed hard, the lump even bigger in my throat. A feather-light brush on the side of my neck jerked me out of the agony, though it never really left.

“I felt your misery all the way in the armoury, Tor.”

I pretended not to see the way my hand shook around the thin strand of shadow pressing further and further through the mortal realm. Fuck, how far had Cruelty taken Cat? My shadow was still in the UK but fucking barely. It was right off the coast of Wales, and veering further inland.

“I’m not good company right now,” I told Miz. God, my voice was a mess. Strangled and low and full of gravel. “I’ve already hurt Death. I don’t want to snap at you, too.”

“He already forgives you,” Miz murmured. “You know how he is, he won’t hold a grudge.”

But the hurt would linger, and I fucking hated that I’d caused it. “I just—” I sucked in a sudden breath when my magic stopped abruptly, somewhere in the dense shadows of Sherwood Forest. It throbbed in my head, like the ringing of radar, and I gasped. “I know where Pain is.”

And now that I was this close, if Cat was in the area, I should be able to find her, too. There was no force in this domain or the mortal realm that could keep me from her. I bared my teeth, thinking of all the ways I’d torment Cruelty when I got my hands on her.

“I’ll get the others,” Miz said, his arms squeezing my middle before he let go. “We could have her back by nightfall. She can come ho—”

Agony drove through my chest like a hot poker, and my knees fell out from under me. My hands clenched automatically, gripping the shadow and the shell, but I couldn’t feel themanymore. Couldn’t feel anything except screaming, scalding fire carving across my middle.

“What—” Miz croaked.

Above us, from the armoury, a strangled scream was followed by a roar. Madde and Death. They both felt it. We all felt it. And with my magic, with torment being my power, I knew exactly what was happening right now.

“Cat is being tortured. Someone istorturing our wife.We need to leave. Now.”

35

Cat

Consciousness was sticky and resistant. Sleep clung to me, refusing to let go. Although maybe sleep was the wrong word. Oblivion, dark and deep, was more accurate. I hadn’t fallen into rest, or a dream, or even a nightmare. Unconsciousness was black, empty, and silent.

Waking up was silent too, although it was strangely bright. I squinted my eyes open a crack, relieved to find myself alone. My arms and ankles were still tied to the chair, the mirror across from me, and buzzing silence filled my head.

My body was the opposite—screaming and howling and roaring with pain. I didn’t know how many bones Violence broke before he gave up. Before he knocked me unconscious. He was gone now, but how long until he returned?

I tried to fill my lungs, to take a deep, bracing breath, and immediately regretted it. I locked my lips together, clenching my teeth to keep the cry trapped, lest Violence hear it and return tomake me sob and plead again. To make me scream. I clung to that fact, that single victory. I hadn’t screamed. Nor had I told him where to find my dad.

But what the fuck was that about? Why were the psycho siblings obsessed with my dad? My eyes burned, a lump swelling in my throat. I wished Dad was here. He’d have a joke ready to make me smile, or a sassy remark at the go. He’d tell me to be strong, that Wallisons could never be broken unless we chose to be.

“I refuse to be broken,” I whispered, a tear rolling off my chin, landing cool on my too-hot chest. I didn’t dare look down, didn’t want to know if I bore only bruises or if Violence had drawn blood. My insides felt mangled. “I refuse to be broken.”

“So did the last girl,” a raspy voice broke the silence, making me jump so hard my whole body erupted in agony. I barely—barely—choked back the scream of pain. My jaw throbbed as I locked it, but even my muffled cry was too loud. Fear made me tremble, driving the pain from my ribs into every part of me, and tears came so hot and fast that I couldn’t see.

“There’s no time for any of that,” the raspy voice said. Female, older, and no-nonsense.

I blinked fast, nostrils flaring as the pain flared and grew, flared and grew. It was never-ending. “Where?” I gasped, my voice as hoarse as hers.

“I’m in the mirror. Now, listen closely. We don’t have much time until he comes back.”

I had to fight a flinch at that reminder. I managed to keep my body still by locking all my bones, but the pain never faded, carving itself through all my hollow spaces, burrowing into my bone marrow, making a home in my blood, my muscle, the vulnerable cracks in my ribs. I breathed in tiny, desperate gasps as I looked at the mirror, a haze of tears washing out the imageof the ornate silver frame, the misty spots on its surface and the face that pressed against the glass.

I jumped. I couldn’t help it. The sight of a woman within the mirror was so shocking that my whole body reacted, and then my world flashed white and hot, and by the time sound rushed back into my ears and I could feel anything other than suffering, she’d been talking for seconds or minutes or hours.

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