Chapter 33
Cat
“That was nothing,” Madde protested, throwing his hands up as our shadow shires carried us into the fog-shrouded town where I first arrived. “So I sent a few nuns mad, and they went on a killing spree, whoop-de-do. Your intrusive thoughts are wayyy worse.”
Pain scoffed. “I can’t wait to hear this. What’s worse than killer nuns?”
“First of all, they only killed people who deserved it. Those priests were corrupt, and deserved to be strung up on the cross all Jesus-like.”
“Fucking hell, Madde,” Tor grunted. “Could you be any more blasphemous?”
“Oh, definitely,” Madde agreed brightly. “But that’s not the point.” He stabbed a finger at Pain. “How is a nun murder spree, that took place over six hours by the way, worse than that twisted village you established that’s still thriving today?”
“We agreed not to bring this up,” Pain groaned.
“Why do I think thriving means something very different in this case?” I cut in, distracted from my mounting dead despite myself.
“I might have made a quaint little village,” Pain admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, rumpling his mousy curls. “It was supposed to be a normal, picturesque village with a duck pond and pubs and a cute little stone bridge. But uh. My hand slipped.”
“Your hand slipped,” Tor drawled, giving me a look around Pain’s shoulder. “His magic took on a life of its own and the inhabitants of that village turned into power-hungry maniacs who sacrifice their own kids for power.”
“I did try to tell them to stop their little game, but they wouldn’t listen,” Pain muttered sullenly. “They still won’t, generations later.”
“You created a monster,” I guessed. “What’s the village called? And what happened to the ducks?”
“It’s called Sorrow, and the ducks are completely fine, thank you.”
“Except, they’re still alive,” Miz said. “Hundreds of years later.”
“Hey, you have no room to talk,” Pain protested, a flush on his cheeks making him look so damn cute. “You helped me. You’re an accomplice.”
Miz shrugged, his head high, a little smirk on his face. “You have no evidence of that.”
“I—” Pain cut off with a huff, and I guessed Miz was right.
I offered, “After the domain is stable, maybe we could visit Sorrow. Try to, uh, settle things sans sacrifice?”
“Good luck with that,” Madde quipped, seeming pleased that we all agreed Sorrow was worse than his killer nuns.
I would have replied, but my eyes snagged on something at the end of the cobbled street.
Not the statue that was half crumbled, not the open square with its abandoned market stalls, their canopies eaten through in places, fog swirling around the edges.
It was the small terrace house halfway down the row that caught my attention.
Where all the others were brown, grey, or ordinary brick, this was painted a striking blue. And it was still intact.
“Slight detour,” I said when we drew nearer, slowing Fuzzball enough that I could swing my leg over her back and jump down. “I’ll explain later, but I just need to knock on this door.”