Chapter 44
Madness
Wilfrith Riggs was a stupid fucking name. His face annoyed me, too. What right did he have to look so bleak and depressed inside his narrow cell when he pushed my lioness onto a chess square he knew would torture her?
A rumble of murderous rage shook my chest, and I pulled Cat back against me, my arms around her shoulders as we glared at the piece of shit. Well, I glared. Cat tried to, but the wound of his betrayal was still too fresh.
“Cat?” Wil murmured, blinking as if he was hallucinating. But then he caught sight of the cold-blooded murder on each of our faces and realised this was very real. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
“If it was up to me, you never would,” Misery replied coldly. “But we need something from you. If you decide to be smart, and tell us what we want to know, we’ll leave you alone forever.”
Wil pulled himself from the door, nearing the bars that separated us, each one as thick as my arm. “And if I don’t tell you?”
Miz let a slow smile spread across his face, lethal and as sharp as the edge of the pretty knives I gave my lioness.
“I can promise you’ll regret it. Because when I’m done with you, there’s a very long line of people who want to make you pay.
” He gestured at the rest of us and I wiggled my fingers in a wave.
“And when they’re done with you,” Misery went on, stepping up to the bars, shooting his hand through the bars to grab Wil’s throat.
Ooh, Miz’s hand went all skeletal and rotted, powerful enough that Wil’s throat dented.
“Then it’s Cat’s turn for revenge. And let me tell you, Wil, you do not want to piss off a goddess named Judgement. ”
Wil’s eyes were wide; I watched him swallow and satisfaction bloomed through me. “What do you want to know?”
“Wise choice,” Miz remarked and released him, though his hand remained bony and fleshless.
He stepped back, glancing at Cat, putting her back in charge.
A little thrill went through my belly. I loved seeing Cat run this show.
Loved seeing her reach her full, badass potential, the way I’d always known she could.
Not that I knew she’d be Judgement but I was still claiming I told you so rights for the next two decades. It was for that reason that I dropped my arms, unleashing my wife upon our enemy, even if I really wanted to keep holding her.
“Your orders didn’t just come from Nightmare,” Cat said, her head high and shoulders back as she approached Wil’s cell, a pink knife gripped in each fist. “You did whatever Cruelty told you to. And Violence.”
Wil’s posture changed, and I narrowed my eyes as he became very… mortal. Human and uncomfortable. Ashamed, if I believed his heavy eyes and frown, which I didn’t because he was a lying liar, and I knew better than to trust lying liars.
“I never wanted anyone to get hurt,” he said with a pretty convincing show of regret. I narrowed my eyes, looking for cracks in his act. “I swear, Cat, I never wanted anyone to get hurt.”
“But they did,” Cat replied, as cold as an ice cream sundae.
1 I shuddered with excitement. “My best friends are dead.” I was so proud of her for how strong her voice was, for how it didn’t crack.
“Dozens of students and faculty are dead, Wil, and you helped make it happen. You were one of those robed people, weren’t you?
You called her. You brought Nightmare back to life. ”
Wil hung his head, and I glared right through his transparent skull at the grey wall behind him. “I’m sorry.”
“Why?” Cat snarled, and I could have pointed out that we needed to know about Violence, not Wil’s dastardly deeds, but she deserved this truth so I pressed my mouth shut.
When he said nothing, Cat snapped, surging forward with rage in her eyes, claws at her fingertips, and power in her voice when she roared, “Why?”
“She said she could fix me,” Wil rasped. Small and ashamed. Still wasn’t buying it. “Cruelty. She said if I did as she told me to, she’d cure me.”
“You’re sick?” Tor demanded, arms crossed over his chest.
“In a way,” Wil laughed bitterly. “I’m an addict. A gambler. Cruelty said she’d fix me, make it so I wouldn’t get any more urges. And I wouldn’t fuck up anymore,” he added under his breath.
“What a lovely little sob story,” Miz drawled. “None of which justifies what you did.”
“I know,” Wil muttered, wringing his hands. He was definitely reading from the Apologetic Victim playbook, even following the stage directions. I wanted to stab him. “I’m sorry.”
“You want to make amends?” Cat asked, still growling, still shaking with rage. “Tell us where to find Violence.”
“He could be anywhere,” Wil hedged.
“No.” Cat’s claws scraped the solid metal of the bars on his cell. “You know where he’ll be.”
“I can guess.” Wil sighed. “There’s a secret hideout where he used to call me to receive orders.”
“Where?” I pressed, and nearly patted myself on the back for not borrowing Wrath’s spork to rip his eyes out.2
“Ford,” Wil said, slumping. “Under the lake in Ford’s grounds.”