Page 8 of All Hallows Masque

Cat

Dread wrapped itself like an octopus around my chest the moment I woke, and for long minutes I kept my eyes closed and wished away the entirety of yesterday. No ominous message luring me to Death’s garden, no Cruelty lying in wait with an offer that was equal parts gift and curse, no Nightmare with her creatures, no attack, no Stalker, no blood spilled and bones broken and screams rending the air.

Nightmare had been trying to draw me away from my mates for weeks. She managed to achieve it once, but she hadn’t given up even when I went back to them. Cruelty actually achieved that goal, and drew me away from them by using Miz’s life as leverage, but why? Nightmare’s goals werehergoals. Why did she want me away from my men so badly? Just so we could be besties, or so the domain would fall?

Today, I needed to find out why, but I couldn’t ask her outright. I had to be clever.

I rubbed the crust of sleep from my eyes and braced myself for the day. It would drain all my energy, but I had to make her think I was on side, even if I played the reluctant friend role. Cruelty had to believe I was beaten, that she’d won.You catch more flies with honey.Mum said those words often, and I knew her advice was sound. Pain clutched my heart at the thought of her, of my dad, and I was suddenly homesick for two places, for two groups of people. But I wouldn’t be going back to either of them today.

Today was for Cruelty.

So, I sighed, opened my eyes, and—froze.

There was a flower laid on the navy velvet pillowcase beside me. Long, sturdy stem, bright green petals. A lime-green tulip.

I was sitting in a second, my heart crashing into my ribs. Death had reached me here, even with the gates turned to mist. How? It didn’t matter; all that mattered was I wasn’t alone. Tears burned the backs of my eyes as I picked up the tulip, a smile tugging the edge of my mouth when I saw there was a small cream label tied to the step with string.

Meet me in the kitchen.

I couldn’t breathe, hope expanding so vast it choked me. It wasn’t safe to be here. Cruelty would be furious if she saw him. But I was so desperate to feel his arms around me, to wrap myself around him, to lose myself in his warmth and safety and the deep, murmuring heat of his voice, that I didn’t care.

I threw off the lace nightgown and dressed in the clothes I wore yesterday—even bloody, dirty clothes were better than the extremely dated dresses and blouses in the wardrobe across from the bed—and hurried downstairs, the tulip clutched in my hand.

It took me a few tries to find the corridor that led to the kitchen, but then I was bursting through the door, searching the dark green cupboards and overflowing pots of herbs for Death.He wasn’t here. Instead Cruelty stood at the marble island arranging—

A vase of lime-green tulips.

My shoulders sank. My heart crashed.

“Ah, there you are!” she said, her whole face lighting up. Sunlight through the big window caught her blue eyes and made them sparkle. “Did you like your gift?”

Speaking felt like crunching glass and forcing it down my throat. “They’re my favourite.”

“I know!” She beamed. “A good friend should always know her best girl’s favourite flower. Do you know mine?”

“Uh—” I was still grieving the perfect morning I’d been about to have. Death wasn’t here. He’d never been here. “Dark roses?” I guessed. “They’re beautiful but the thorns could easily cut and draw blood. That would be cruel.”

Cruelty’s grin grew even bigger, and she clapped her hands. “I love it! You’re completely wrong, but I love it. You know me so well.”

I knew fuck all about her, but sure, if she wanted to delude herself.More flies with honey than vinegar,I reminded myself, fighting back the crushed glass feeling in my throat, the pressure in my chest.

“What about the flowers in the conservatory?” I asked, approaching carefully, the way I would a wild wolf.

“Smart girl,” Cruelty said, finishing the arrangement of tulips in the clear vase with a flourish. “What do you think?”

“Beautiful,” I croaked, wanting my husbands, wanting to be anywhere but here.

Alright, enough self-pity. Time to encourage Cruelty’s best friend delusion.

“Please tell me there’s breakfast. I’m starving,” I said, forcing myself to sound friendly. If it would avenge Byron and Honey, I could play nice.

“Of course! How do you like blueberry pancakes?”

“Love them.”

“Perfect!” Cruelty skipped to the fridge, the hood of the lace dress she always wore fluttering around her face. “I’m sorry about the mess around the house. Our cleaner’s gone on an extended absence.”

“It’s fine,” I said, barely paying attention. I needed to word things very carefully, so I maintained this bestie façade. “I have a question about Nightmare.”

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