I shook my head with a sigh. Now I was paranoid. “I know,” I murmured, leaning against Miz and half paying attention to the demonstration at the table at the front of the room, mostly so Violence could find no fault with me.
I waited for him to leave, waited for that sicky mint scent to dissipate, but it dogged our footsteps from the lab all the way back to my room, where those guards still hovered outside—to report to Cruelty, I knew. Her dogs, or goons as Madde called them.1
“I can’t see that motherfucker anywhere,” Miz snarled the moment we were within the dozen wards we’d placed around the room, “but I know he’s there.”
I tried to reply, but my stomach heaved, and now we were back in relative safety, there was no fighting the nausea. I threw myself through the door to the en-suite and reached the toilet just in time for my stomach to empty itself with painful retches.
“Little one?” Death called from the bedroom as Misery followed me to the floor, gathering my hair in his hand as my stomach roiled again and again.
“Violence,” Miz said softly, an explanation that needed no more than that single name.
“Did he touch you?” Death demanded, low and resonant enough that I twisted my head to see him between my miserable retching. He was little more than a bleached skull and a black cloak floating above the ground, spilling shadows and promises of death into the room. His eyes glowed white from within the pale skull, and seemed to flare, to brighten to match the murderous rage that hit our bond, turning the calm forest into a furious storm.
“He just watched,” Miz told him when I was forced back to the toilet. “But he was there the whole time. The fucking stink of him was inescapable.”
I heard Death’s sigh, and knew he understood. I’d confessed that scent haunted me, chasing me into my dreams no matter how hard I tried to forget it.
“I have a solution,” Madde piped up, squashing into the small bathroom and laying things out on the counter: a bottle of water, mouthwash, a cup of steaming tea, a jelly pot, and an entire hunk of ginger. “If I cut him into a hundred, million pieces, he won’t smell of anything except blood.”
A laugh rasped free of my throat, and I sat back on my heels when it seemed my stomach was done revolting. “Where did you get all this stuff?” I asked, getting to my feet. Misery’s hands never left my body, trailing over my shoulders and stroking my hair back as I splashed water on my face and swilled my mouth with the mouthwash.2
Madde shrugged when I glanced at him, his hands in the pockets of glittery, navy blue jeans and pure, puppy dog innocence in his eyes. “Found it.”
Yep, this stuff wasdefinitelystolen. That didn’t stop me sipping the tea or taking the jelly pot into the bedroom with me.
“Where’s Pain?” I asked immediately. I thought he’d be here, but a quick sweep of the room showed it empty.
“He’s uh…” Madde scratched his head, making hair stick up in all directions.
“Occupied,” a familiar voice squeaked—behindme.
“Pain?” I turned and tried not to laugh when I saw his face—eyes comically wide, cheeks bright red, hair slicked to his face as he stood in the shower stall, the water turned off. Buck-ass naked.
“I was just getting out when you came in,” he explained, itching the back of his neck, with his eyes squinted half shut. “Um. You can’t see anything, right?”
“She’s already seen everything,” Madde pointed out, leaning over my shoulder. “And yep, she can definitely see your knob. It’s just swinging around down there, and the glass isnowherenear frosted enough.”
“God.” Pain thumped his head on the shower door. “Kill me now.”
“You’re already dead, pretty boy,” Madde quipped.
“Aw, you think I’m pretty?” Pain batted his lashes and blew air kisses.
Death took advantage of their distraction to wrap his arms around me from behind, rubbing the knotted muscles in my stomach. “We got lake water, blood, and fog,” he told me, kissing the tip of my ear. “We just need grave dirt—”
“Oh, I got that,” Pain cut in, pink still splashed over his cheeks. “I dug it up while you were in the lake.”
“Inthe lake?” I demanded, turning to look up at Death, the sight of his face still a balm and blessing. It was hard to be irate when I was so glad to still have him. “Couldn’t you just dip a vial into it?”
“It fought back.” He kissed the furrow in my brow. “And we’re fine. No harm done.”
That was suspiciously vague, but I would know if they were injured or weak through the bond, so I let it go. “So all that’s left is a burial item.”
“You can have mine.” The words were quiet, hesitant. Miz gave us a sad smile and said, “We’ll do the ritual in my mausoleum, and we can use something from there.”
CHAPTER 21
MISERY
