Chapter 35
CAT
Ididn’t realise how much time had passed while we threw together a frantic plan until we stepped outside and saw the crimson light splashed across the bottom of the sky, staining the academy buildings, the trees, and that hedge.
The sunset’s ruddy haze blurred the edges of Ford as we approached the huge grassy structure, and the stand that had been built—tall enough to see what hell awaited us inside.
A labyrinth, I guessed, straight out of myth.
Complete with a dozen Minotaurs Poppy created for Cruelty.
I glanced over at Death who subtly nodded.
Our message to Orwell had got through safely.
Whether the magic in the pendant within the envelope would allow him through the shields around the grounds remained to be seen, but he was our only backup.
The other gods hadn’t replied to a single message today; either they were occupied rebuilding the domain or we were cut off.
We barely had a strategy. There was no knowing what to expect of this new game, only guesswork based on the masquerades and what my men knew of Cruelty and Violence from the past. I was braced for statues, for masks and couture gowns, for people moving on autopilot as they danced to music so eerie it set my teeth on edge.
There was no scent in the air except for the woodsy smell I associated with Ford, no coppery blood, no rusted metallic of old weapons, no plaster of statues.
No clue at all about what waited beyond the hedge.
“She’s on the other side,” Miz said quietly. “I can sense her. Violence, too.”
I stiffened, my gut cramping, but I breathed in through my nose, out through my mouth, and told myself I could do this. I wasn’t alone. I was a jaguar. I was powerful. But my pep talk relied too heavily on me ignoring that their power was greater than mine.
I tried not to jump when leaves rustled and an archway opened in the solid wall, a ray of light falling across our path, pure blinding red. I told myself it wasn’t an omen of blood, merely good weather tomorrow.
I pulled my shoulders back, lifted my chin, and walked with my bonded ones through the arch in the hedge. I stopped dead when I saw what awaited us on the other side, so suddenly that Pain walked into my back, his hands finding my hips to steady himself.
“You were right, Madde,” I breathed, staring at the mammoth chessboard that sprawled out in front of us.
Across from us, black figures stood robed from head to toe.
The same figures from the ritual at the Halloween party that raised Nightmare.
The side in front of us was empty, and the implication was clear: we were meant to play. “The hedge was definitely suspicious.”
Not a labyrinth or dance floor full of masked figures.
A human-sized chessboard, with a stand full of robotic student spectators to our right and to our left…
Cruelty rose from one of two gothic thrones, spires of dark metal thrusting up on either side of her head, the seat and back upholstered with fabric the colour of fresh blood and stained sunsets.
Beside her seat, Violence sat with the posture of a mannequin and the emotionless expression of a mass murderer.
Two monarchs ruling over a gameboard. The final game, Cruelty called it in the first invitation.
The final game. I nodded, stamping out any twinge of doubt, suffocating my fear at the sight of Violence. We would win this. Whatever it took.
“Kill the opposing pieces,” I whispered while she was still out of earshot.
“I’d like to kill them instead,” Miz hissed, angling himself closer as Cruelty crossed the chessboard, her slippers pure ivory and lace dress the colour of bleached paper. Violence, I couldn’t help but notice, was dressed in head to toe black. One for each set of pieces.
“The second we have Peach back,” I breathed, hardening my heart and proud when it didn’t falter as Cruelty beamed from ear to ear at the sight of us. “Do it.”
What bird song rippled from the woods around Ford died, leaving pure silence as Cruelty came closer, clasping my hand as if we really were friends.
“I’m so happy you came!” she gushed. “This is going to be so fun, you’re going to love it.
And you’d better win, Kitty. I have a little bet with my brother, and I refuse to lose. ”
That explained their choice of clothes. Not that hers was a choice, rather a curse, a constant reminder of the wedding that led to her death. I’d dressed in a flowy black skirt and a vest that had a skeletal hand giving the middle finger. I hoped Cruelty took it as a message for her.
“What do we get if we win?” I asked, already knowing the answer. The prize would have been Tor, but we’d defied them by saving him, so they had to scramble for a new reward.
“If you win, I’ll give the rat back to you.”
“She’s a prairie dog, you ignorant Cabbage Patch Doll,” Pain snapped, magic like black fire licking at his shoulders.
Cruelty blinked. Before she could retaliate, I held out my hand to her and said, “Deal. Let’s shake on it.”
She clasped my palm and squeezed, and I wondered if she felt the film on my skin and thought it was nervous sweat.
Judging by the glimmer of satisfaction she swiftly hid, she did.
What a shame she didn’t realise it was venom extracted, extremely carefully, from my own claws and teeth—the claws and teeth capable of weakening a death god.
“I took the liberty of hand-selecting your pieces,” Cruelty told me, clearly delighted with how easily I went along with her scheme.
“I assumed you’d want your bonded ones to play.
” I nodded tightly. We hadn’t discussed a chess match, but we knew it would be a game, and we were all prepared to play.
“I picked out two knights for you, and of course eight pawns.”
Anticipation sharpened her smile as people rose from the stand to our right. My stomach plummeted. I only vaguely recognised most of them, but two were immediately clear: Wil and Duncan.
I gnashed my teeth. I didn’t want Duncan anywhere near me after I saw him and Violence so pally. But if I contested this, Cruelty would find some way to punish me, and she’d target my bonded ones. So, I pasted a smile onto my face and said, “Good choices.”
She fluffed her hair. “I do my best.” When Wil and Duncan, along with the eight pawns—an equal mix of guys and girls—stood among us, Cruelty said, “The rules are the same as any chess match, and will only end at checkmate.”
She didn’t say what would happen at check or checkmate, but I knew her well enough to guess blood and broken bones and traumatic injuries.
“Because I’m generous,” she said, stepping back with a flourish, “I’ll allow you to make the first move.”
I exchanged a silent, weighted look with each of my men. We didn’t want to do this, but Peach’s life hung in the balance, and we refused to leave a single one of us behind. I refused to let the panic in Misery’s eyes change to the numb pain of grief. All we had to do was play.
I stepped onto the queen’s square.