Chapter 32
CAT
Cruelty was in the park overseeing a P.E.
lesson, even though this was a med school, and Violence was occupied dissecting frogs in Milton Hall, so we took full advantage of it to search for Peach.
Pain and Death were wading through the lake, and Miz and Madde scoured Everard Tower, which left Tor and I winding our way through the trees, using their cover as we approached the gate.
Death and I had passed through this way yesterday to meet Orwell, but we’d been so cautious about getting caught on the way out, we hadn’t paused to search the woods or the pathway.
The chances of Peach being held out here were slim, but we had no idea where Cruelty and Violence lived within Ford.
The old Dean’s offices were unused and no help at all.
And the longer we took to find her, the higher the chance they’d do serious damage to Peach.
She was so tiny; how much torture could she endure?
“Cat,” Tor began, clearing his throat as we veered off the path into rugged woodland, sticks cracking underfoot.
It was quiet except for the leaves and branches we trampled, and the odd chatter of a bird, but my hackles were raised, my beast clawing at the underside of my skin, itching to get out.
I hadn’t transformed since we got here, and my jaguar was restless.
“When I was in the mirror,” Tor said, making me frown at his tone—careful, tentative, soft, “I saw something. No, it showed me something.”
I panned my stare around the woods, searching for any hint of fur, or a cage. The thought of Peach being locked up made me furious, and the haunted look in Misery’s eyes, the emptiness and ice I felt in his soul—that made me murderous. How dare those bastards harm our family again? How dare they?
“I saw something, too,” I replied, chewing the inside of my lip and remembering the vision. “I didn’t say anything because I wasn’t sure if it was real. I’m still not, to be honest. It could be my mind finally cracking, inventing something to help us.”
Tor brought my hand to his mouth and kissed each knuckle. “What did you see?”
“I was running through a forest, or maybe these woods, chasing dark moths. They led me to a mirror, like the one you were kept in, but it was me in the mirror. She told me it was Ford’s End who’d brought me there, and said Cruelty can be killed by whoever used to have her job before, and Violence can be killed by me, but not yet.
I don’t know what any of it means, but we need to find the last Cruelty and—”
“Cat,” Tor gently interrupted. Then sighed heavily. “I’m pretty sure I know who it is, beautiful. Do you have your phone?”
I took it out of my pocket. It had been in the desk in our room that first day, waiting for me. I hadn’t used it to make a text or call in case it was bugged.
“Show me a picture of your father.”
My flinch started in my chest, then my shoulders, and moved to my whole body, until my feet skidded to a halt in the leaf-strewn dirt. “No.” I shook my head. “It’s not him, Tor, he’s a fucking surgeon. He’s normal, not magical, not a god—”
“Not anymore,” he said gently, taking my phone from me and scrolling back through photos of us, selfies with By and Honey, photos of my brothers, our home, holidays we’d taken over the years, and settling on a picture of my mum and dad.
They were slouched on the white cushioned seat of a yacht, the water so clear and blue it looked like fresh blown glass. “This is him?”
I nodded, a jagged lump in my throat.
Tor pulled me into his arms and kissed my temple hard, as if he could imprint the feeling of his love into my skin. “Pain said Cruelty was raving at you to tell her where your dad was.”
I wet my dry lips. “Violence, too—when he—” I hated how hard it was to speak about this.
Hated that Violence had cracked my body open, rib by rib, and made a permanent home for fear in my heart.
Then put me back together so no one could see the enduring mark, the damage written on the inside where no one would ever know.
“That’s what he kept asking, over and over,” I managed to croak.
“I didn’t know why he cared, but I knew if I told him, he’d hunt my dad and kill him so I couldn’t—”
A fractured sob forced up my throat and refused to be choked down. Tears spilled hot down my cheeks. This was why I had to keep pushing the memories down, keep moving forward, as fast as I could to escape them. Because they had the power and force to break me into a thousand shattered fragments.
“I saw this man for years. He was Cruelty, beautiful. That's why they want him,” Tor said with aching tenderness. “Cruelty wants to be free of the role, to be given a normal life, and she thinks if he kills her, she’ll get it. She’s desperate and ignoring logic.
What Violence wants with him, I can’t fucking guess.
I think you should call him, little bride.
Don’t tell him outright, just ask if everything’s okay. ”
I shook my head against his chest, gulping down his amber and sandalwood scent. “I can’t. I don’t want him to know any of this.”
“Then don’t tell him. He doesn’t need to know details.”
I swallowed, my throat speared with sharp aches. “If he finds out what happened to Virgil, he’ll hate me. Mum and Dad will disown me. It’s been weeks, Tor, and we haven’t got a cure. Virgil, he’s—he’s gone.”
I hadn’t wanted to say it, had refused to even think it.
But it lived there, in the back of my mind, a pain that refused to settle or calm.
I hadn’t seen Virgil in weeks, and while Cruelty’s treatment had stabilised the serum in me until my jaguar and I were balanced, Virgil needed the antidote.
He was in the domain, in the fog, all alone.
“I left him,” I rasped. “I went with Cruelty, and I just left him. And I know Mum and Dad will hate me for it because I hate myself for it.”
“Stop.” Tor clasped my chin to tip my face up.
“Enough, Cat. None of what happened is your fault. And in case you’ve forgotten, you didn’t choose to leave; Cruelty leveraged you into leaving because Miz was dying.
You are traumatised, and afraid, and this beautiful heart of yours is scarred, so I will not allow you to add more scars yourself.
Your parents love you. Virgil loves you, and there’s no way in hell he blames you for anything.
Especially when you were harmed by Poppy, too.
” He kissed me, so soft it made my chest hurt. “Call your dad.”
I sniffled and did as he said. I still prepared for Dad’s anger, for Mum’s disappointment, or maybe they’d both think I was crazy when they found out even one thing that had happened and have me committed for my own health. Still, I dialled Dad’s number and put the phone to my ear.
The line screeched a single beep and went to voicemail. I frowned and tried again. And again. Then I tried Mum, and Tannie. Not a single call connected.
I lowered my hand with a lump in my throat, swelling bigger with every second. “Tor, what if—”
“Don’t go there.” He held me tighter. “Ford is locked down. Cruelty and Violence must have fucked with the phone signals, too.”
“Right.” The word wedged in my throat and scraped its way out.
Leaves rustled behind us.
Tor whipped me behind him, the thin slivers of magic that had been searching for Peach expanding into furious tentacles. One arm dove past a thick-trunked tree and dragged someone kicking and snarling into the open.
“Alastair,” I breathed, my whole body going cold.
I hadn’t forgotten his taunts or threats.
I hadn’t forgotten that he was close to my best friend in the weeks leading up to her death.
I wished Miz were here; he’d kill him instantly.
But Tor merely smiled, the sharp edge of a knife in that smile, and purred, “Back for more bloodletting so soon, prick?”
I shot a surprised stare at the back of Tor’s head. So it was Alastair’s blood we’d used in the potion to push through Cruelty’s shield. I couldn’t say I was sad at the thought of this bastard suffering.
“What are you doing skulking around?” I demanded, fighting through my fear for Virgil, my dread at my parents not answering my calls.
I wanted to hear their voices, but at least chances were high they were somewhere else, safe, while I was stuck here at Ford, playing a cruel game that could end in Peach dead. “Were you spying on us?”
Alastair scoffed. He hadn’t changed in the weeks since I last saw him. He looked as smug and arrogant as always, that chip still on the shoulder of his crisp white shirt. He was also present, not zoned out or robotic like everyone else.
“Why would I spy on you?” Alastair sneered, speaking to me like I was dog shit on his shoe like always.
And it occurred to me that I didn’t need a psychotic husband to kill this piece of shit for me.
My jaguar paced within me, pressing against my skin, and I didn’t simply let her free of her leash; I tore her out of my skin, encouraged the violence boiling in her blood, and grinned in the seconds before I transformed.
Strong paws slammed into Alastair’s chest as Tor’s shadow held my prey in place. I drove him to the ground, bellowing a threat of detailed, gruesome murder in his face.
“If I find you watching us again,” Tor said with obvious pride, “I’ll let her rip your head off.” His fingers dove into my fur, resting on the back of my neck. “Tell your masters we’re having a personal moment, in private, and they can mind their own fucking business.”
Alastair scrambled to his feet and bolted.