One of the rooks from the black chess set wrapped its gloved hand around my throat and I croaked as it lifted me off my feet. Violence was behind this; I slid a glare to where the prick sat on his throne, all regal and stuck up.
“I hope the stick rammed up your ass gives you splinters,” I gasped as lights began to dance in the corners of my vision. “Whoa, pretty. Not you,” I told Violence. “The lights.” I fluttered my fingers, tracing the glitter crowding across my vision.
“Madde!” Tor yelled, trying to elbow his way through ten Stalkers, a swell of torment in the air. But our magic had no effect on these super-soldiers, only brute strength.
“I’m fff…”
I meant to sayI’m fine,but the rook controlled by Violence grabbed a fistful of my hair, arm still around my throat, and snapped my neck.
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 godcouldbe 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 ofmagic 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 fuckinghellwas 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.”
