Chapter 43
TORMENT
“Madde!” I roared, my heart goddamn stopping as he dropped to the chessboard.
The panic was illogical and instinctual, and it took me a few seconds to shake it off as I battled through the Stalkers, borrowing Madde’s technique and ripping their spines out, punching a fatal dose of torment into their hearts while I was at it.
Madness was a death god, and he couldn’t be killed by a simple neck snapping.
There were benefits to being a god, and immortality was one of them, but the psycho twins were too close for comfort and a god could be killed while he was vulnerable like this.
So, I battled my way to him, catching Miz’s eye as he kicked his boot through the ribcage of a Stalker.
“Get Pain,” I mouthed, and grabbed the rook that snapped Madde’s neck, wrapping my hand in death magic as I grabbed its neck. Dead—the pieces were all dead. Spirits, but something more, something twisted.
But I was a god of death, and all dead things were my domain.
The more magic I funnelled through my palm, the more the rook began to shake. Stalkers were immune to this magic, but clearly the chess pieces were vulnerable, and I looked across the board, locking eyes with Violence just as I located the magic keeping this thing animated, and crushed it.
It was the work of a minute to do the same to the others, until the pawns of their sick game were all banished. It didn’t change the fact we were surrounded by Stalkers, though.
“Where the fuck is Orwell?” I demanded, standing over Madde as he did an accurate Sleeping Beauty impression.
“He said he’d come,” Death replied, throwing his arm up and unleashing a wave of magic on the Stalkers before him.
Gaunt faces of the dead pressed against the sheet of magic, unsettling as fuck even after years with Death.
He was in his god form, decay and magic wafting from his cloak, bleeding from within his dark cowl.
I pretended not to notice that it was a far weaker embodiment of death than before the domain fell.
Maybe that meant Cruelty and Violence were weaker, too. Doubt it, but fools can hope.
I grabbed the head of a beefy Stalker with a thick silver chain around his neck and a floppy haircut and ripped it off.1
“Hey!” Cruelty complained from her throne. “I liked that one.”
I gave her my middle finger, facing the next threat. This would be a lot fucking easier if they could be killed by magic. I could inflict torment on them, but I had to get close enough to—
One of the motherfuckers grabbed me and I sucked in a hissing breath as magic pelted me.
Not death magic, but not quite the rare bit of power we could gift to the living, either.
Wrath made a right cock-up gifting three mortals a kernel of magic a hundred years ago, and they were still being a damn nuisance.
Still alive, too, the immortal pains in our asses.
This particular magic packed enough of a punch to knock the wind from me and make me stumble away from Madde and Cat. A coil of pain wormed its way into the flesh of my heart.
Orwell was rational and present.2 By contrast, the tall, brunette guy who grabbed me was blank-eyed and silent, not a threat or grunt of pain passing his lips when I slammed my fist into his ribs hard enough to collapse two.
Had Cruelty found a way to change Poppy’s Stalker blueprint, to improve upon the original?
Another three snapped ribs, and the brunette Stalker was forced to stagger back with a snarl. But I didn’t miss the way he and two others herded me toward the edge of the board, where the thrones overlooked the attack.
“Come on, Kitty,” I heard Cruelty murmur.
Electric panic shot through my veins. I spun to stare at my wife, my heart damn near dropping from my body when I saw she and Madde were both prone and surrounded, Death walled off by eight Stalkers and Miz… where was Miz?
“Come on, come on,” Cruelty breathed as I searched the board, finally finding my beautiful Miz splayed on a white square near three fallen chess pieces, like he’d taken them down with him. “Fight it,” Cruelty urged.
“Not working out the way you planned, is it?” I sniped, shoving off the brunette Stalker’s grip and driving my foot into his ankle hard enough that it snapped, dropping him to the ground. “End this, Cruelty. If you don’t, you’ll lose your best friend.”
Like absolute fucking hell was my girl her friend after everything Cruelty had done, but I wasn’t above a bit of lying and manipulation.
“Violence, maybe we should—” she began.
“No. The game has changed, but it’s still in play.”
“But they’re going to trample my bestie!” she whined. “This isn’t the game we agreed.”
His head turned slowly toward her; I watched them from the corner of my eye as two Stalkers rushed me.
Female, tall, with glossy black hair and remarkably similar features.
Did they die during Nightmare’s curse, posthumously reappropriated as Stalkers like Orwell?
Or had these been culled on purpose for the cause?
The twins came at me with enough speed and skill that I could tell they trained regularly in martial arts.
Great. I had strength and magic on my side, but my fighting skills were all real world, brawling shit, not sleek, defined movements.
I’d definitely need to rip some spines out to get out of this. How the mighty had fallen.
I used to think I was invincible. Since I’d become a death god, I was untouchable, unkillable.
But since Nightmare, Halloween, and the curse, things had shifted, the ground spinning faster under my feet until I wasn’t sure I could keep up.
I didn’t think these Stalkers could kill me, but they could certainly take me down long enough for Violence to finish the job.
I wouldn’t give the wanker’s superiority complex the satisfaction.
“We agreed,” he said to his sister, slow and unbothered, “to do whatever it took.”
“Yeah, but not at Kitty’s expense,” she argued in a hiss. “This isn’t going to summon my prey, it’ll only make him angrier and—”
“And ensure he arrives,” Violence cut in, the edge of his voice whetted with anger. Clearly, dear darling brother wasn’t used to Cruelty talking back. “This is all going according to plan. You don’t need that girl as a friend when you’ll have plenty of friends in your new life.”
I ducked to avoid the swinging leg of one of the dark-haired twins, and said, “He’s lying, Cruelty.
You know he is. You two are thick as thieves; you must be able to tell when he’s being honest. He doesn’t care about you getting a new life.
” I thought of what Ford had shown Cat, what the mirror showed me.
“He wants control of Death’s domain, and he’ll remove any obstacle in his way.
Cat is in his way. But so are you if you keep arguing. ”
Cruelty scoffed. “My brother would never hurt me.”
I drove my fist into one of the twins’ ribs, guilt twinging through my chest. It never felt right to hit a woman, even if she was trying to murder me. My mum would have had my head for it.
The thought of my mum brought the chessboard’s vision roaring to the surface, and I stumbled enough to be punished with a kick to my knee and punch to my jaw. I didn’t allow a third blow. A fist sailed at my face; I caught it and snapped her wrist.
“Sorry about this,” I said, genuinely remorseful about all the Stalkers slaughtered across this chessboard tonight. But I hardened my will and snapped open her ribs with brute force and a razor-brimmed slash of magic, piercing her heart with enough torment that she immediately began to sob.
She twisted to her sister, possibly for comfort, possibly to fight her.
The other twin’s hand came down too quickly for her to deflect the blow, or the magic that shone around it like a dark corona.
Violence’s magic, I presumed, the same as that void-sword.
The second it cut her sister, the other woman began to wail.
“What a waste,” Violence sighed as she took that dark magic to herself and used its edge to slit her throat, the two sisters tumbling to the lacquered board, blood spilling over the white squares.
“We can plan an even better game,” Cruelty said, her eyes on Cat, and for a split second I thought she genuinely cared. Then in an entitled whine she added, “I don’t want new friends, Violence, I want her.”
“Your new friends will be better,” he disagreed, but even I could tell he was placating you.
Time to use that to my advantage. “Can’t you hear it?” I asked Cruelty. “He doesn’t want you to have a new life. He wants to keep you here. Why would he want a different Cruelty, when he already has one who does what she’s told?”
“No, that’s…” She looked at her brother—truly looked at him—and a frown formed between her brows. “You wouldn’t keep me here where I’m so unhappy.” She reached across the space between their thrones, clasping his hand. “I know you wouldn’t.”
“Of course not.”
Her frown deepened. “You helped me make this game perfect, so we’d lure the old Cruelty in, and he could kill me. You did all this for me, so I can get my happily ever after…”
But she was unsure, and it filled me with satisfaction. So did the way her words began to slur, and she slumped a little heavier in her throne. Took the venom long enough to start working. It would have been immediate with a higher dose, but we couldn’t risk Cruelty noticing.
“What… what did you do to me?” she mumbled, her attention on her brother instead of me.
Great, it had worked. Let the two of them fight it out; I had a family to protect.
Madde stirred as I reached him, and I pulled him to his feet before kneeling beside my wife, brushing a pale strand of hair from her face. Her eyes moved behind her closed lids, but she showed no sign of waking.
“Why would you do this?” Cruelty wailed across the board. “This was supposed to be my chance. I bet you didn’t even send the invitation to the old Cruelty.”
“Oh my god, hi!” Madde shouted, waving his whole arm at something across the board and nearly falling over, the lovable oaf. “Hey, scary lady! Hi!”
Hope rose into my throat and choked off my air. I twisted towards the solid hedge wall Madde waved at, and a groan of relief punched through my chest when I saw the hole blown into the bush and the two people framed by it:
Cat’s dad—which could not be a good omen—and Neglect—who I wanted to scoop up and kiss on her small, scowling face.
“Sorry, we’re late,” Neglect drawled, and attacked.