Chapter 38
Pain
The three most blood-chilling, terror-inducing words known to man—both mortal and immortal—came from my wife’s lips, and I went still. My stomach compacted into a hard stone. I was going to be sick.
“Pain,” she said in a voice so rough, so raw, I couldn’t tell if she was angry, upset, or afraid. “Can we talk?”
“Sure,” I replied in a squeak. “Of course we can talk, darling woe. What do you want to talk about? The weather, I hope. Or the lovely new gates, perchance?”
“Pain,” she said in a soft breath that made my stomach flip.
“What beautiful fog we’re having,” I said with a strangled laugh. “It really… brings out your eyes.”
“Pain.” She caught my hands as they flailed. Her fingers threaded with mine and she pulled me aside, sitting on the wide steps up to Death’s castle. Swallowing, my mouth as dry as a birdcage, I sat beside her as she unfolded the list she consulted several times a day.
I littered the ground with tendrils of shadow, enough to know everyone was pretending not to watch us—all except Joanna, who stared with her head cocked in consideration.
“What’s up?” I asked, trying for a casual tone.1 “Need help weighing something?”
“Weighing…” A furrow tugged her brows together.
“Scales, Judgement, weighing, etcetera,” I explained.
And then because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut, I went on, “Not that I’m telling you how to do your job or anything.
You’re doing a crazy good job of it so far.
Nailing it in fact, way better than I ever did at first. I guess handing out pain comes with a lot more guilt than judgement.
I bet judging the guilty must feel pretty—”
Her fingers pressed to my lips, stemming the flow of my panic. “Pain,” she repeated in that soft voice so full of love. Her pain was like a physical flow of energy into my chest, a deep and emotional wound. I swallowed hard, rubbing my hands on my knees, restless. “Alfie.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, claws of hurt and panic raking across my empty chest. I still operated just fine without a heart, anyway.
“You know,” I guessed.
“The next item on the list,” she murmured. “A pained heart returned. And there was—months ago, Nightmare left me a box with a heart inside. I thought it was Misery’s, but—”
“But,” I agreed with a bitter laugh. “I didn’t think anyone knew. I made sure no one knew. I couldn’t live with the shame.” I buried my head in my hands, and didn’t deserve the arms that wrapped around me, the head that rested on my shoulder. The lump in my throat grew two sizes.
“I never knew what happened to the box, or the heart,” she admitted. “It didn’t matter, because Miz was safe. I’m so sorry.”
I shook my head, curls tickling my face. “Not your fault, darling. I can’t believe they gave it to you. And then stole it back, obviously.”
“Cruelty probably took it while we were focused on Nightmare.” Her breath was warm against my temple. “Pain, how did they take your heart?”
“Ambush,” I said bitterly. “Not long after I sensed you for the first time. All part of their grand, dastardly plan.” She hugged me tighter, probably because of the strangled tone of my voice.
“I had my back to the door, working on a sleeping solution. They fucking tag-teamed me. I fought them, but it was useless. I tried everything, and they still overpowered me. That psycho ripped it out of me while her brother watched.” I shrugged, because how did you finish a story about someone ripping out your heart?
I fully expected to die, then and there, but apparently a death god can exist without one.
“I need to ask something,” she said, the hesitation in her voice kicking me in the gut. I folded my hand over hers and held on tight. “Please don’t lie. I can handle the truth. And I won’t be mad.”
She echoed that with another kiss, this time to my cheek.
“I’d rather lie,” I rasped, my voice low, full of gravel.
“Alfie.”
“Tor’s gonna hate me. Miz will probably try to kill me.
Don’t even get me started on what Madde will do when he knows what I’ve done,” I laughed, forced.
“I’ve thought about it in detail. It’d involve the skinning of at least one body part, then spoon-related violence, stabbings in a thousand places, and probably my spine ripped out of my body. ”
She caught my face and turned it towards her, kissing a path over my cheeks, my nose, before gracing my lips with a benefaction in the form of a slow kiss.
“Can he use it to control you?” she asked.
I fanned my shadows further away, not wanting to see the look on her face, dreading her hatred, her rage, or worse—her disappointment. That was me through and through, Alfie the disappointment, the waste of a life, the fuck-up.
I choked down the lump in my throat and said, “Yes.”
“He made you tell him things—our plans, our location, the things on my list.”
My eyes burned, the sudden spill of tears down my cheeks surprising. “Yes.”
Cat inhaled a deep breath, slowly and bit by bit. Her hands shook. No, her whole body shook. But when she kissed my tear-stained cheeks, her lips were gentle.
“Thank you for telling me,” she said, with remarkable softness.
“Are you going to judge me?” I asked with a strangled laugh.
“I already did, my love.” She squeezed my hand and stood, magic whooshing from her like the ermine cloak of a queen.
“And?” I dared to ask. If I had my heart, I’d be having palpitations. It felt like I was having palpitations.
“And you deserve justice.”
I pulled my magic back in time to get an impression of the wrath on her face, the cold, burning rage. Her attention was on the gates. No, the failsafe stone as the tiny cross glowed, and spirits appeared on the other side of the newly forged iron.
“One task left,” she said in a voice of quiet, creeping death. “One task, and I can kill him.”