Page 24 of All Hallows Fate

I whipped an alarmed look over my shoulder and a smile flickered at the edges of his mouth.

“I’ll let you guess whose that is,” he said, his attention moving from me to the scales. “They look heavy.”

“Yeah,” I muttered, using both hands to lift the scales higher. The second my other hand connected with the cool metal, light blazed into every corner of the room. It burned through my eyes into my brain, and touched my soul.

I gasped as death magic roared into me, then exploded out of me, the scales not reacting, not even wobbling in my grip. But the pen I’d slipped into my pocket warmed, as if all the magic in the air had awakened it.

I had enough time for that thought to pitch my stomach into a plummet before the sight of the Wake’s glass room was whisked away and replaced by the sight of a face only newly familiar.

Death’s brows tugged together, his storm-grey eyes heavy with empathy and sadness as he pulled me into an embrace so overwhelming and secure that my bottom lip wobbled. A violent lump cut off all air moving through my throat. His skin slid against mine, bare and tantalising but comforting in a primitive way that made sobs choke me, growing in force until broken, gasping sounds fought their way free.

I’m here. It’s okay, little one, it’s okay.

Another sob crashed free, but the feeling of warm arms and safety tore away, blurring, twisting, tilting me until I fell into another vision.

I landed on a soft cloud, a mattress under me and Tor rapturous, awed as he stared up at me from between my legs. My heart threw itself into my ribs, the emotional whiplash making me dizzy. This felt real. Not a dream, not a fantasy, not my imagination at work. It was too detailed, too grounded.

“You are… beyond beautiful,” Tor breathed, hands skimming up my thighs. “My Cat. My wife.”

Words poured from my mouth, shy and possessive and beyond my control, like I was acting out a play where the lines had been written for centuries. “Does that make you mine, then?”

“Oh fuck yeah,” Tor groaned instantly. “I am entirely and completely yours.”

I reached for him, wanting to feel the warmth of his face against my palm, to test if this really was real, but the bed tipped beneath me and I slid, disoriented, through the swirling dark into another vision. Another memory.

A stranger pushed me against the wall of an alcove as people lingered in a classroom above us, so close they could find us. So close they could save me. My heart thrummed, anxiety a noose around my chest as the stranger’s eyes flashed. Blue—so blue they were like sparks of electricity.

“I’m warning you,” I said, my lips moving on their own. Something dangerous rose in me—violence. An animal craving for blood to spill. But before I could draw red, gushing fluid from a vital fluid, the glaring stranger laughed and kissed me hard.

And as his mouth asserted its dominance over mine, as he plundered and conquered, I knew this was no stranger. This was Misery, hiding in plain sight, already obsessed with me. Infatuation disguised as hatred. I melted into his rough kiss, gripping his shoulders to keep him close. But the memory tore from my grasp, carrying him far away from me.

I fell through the dark, too breathless from Miz’s rough kisses to scream. When I landed, it was on a stool at a glossy dark bar. A decadent party whirled around me, its revellers masked and draped in opulent gowns, but my attention went right to the bartender and stayed there. Pain, I knew, as my heart kicked even faster. Even masked I knew him.

He was dressed smartly, champagne gold silk hugging his trim body in a way that made me jealous, made me want to reach across the bar, grab the lapel of his jacket, and haul his mouth to mine. But my ass stayed on the stool, and my body refused to do anything but reach for a glass, tipping back the liquid within. The sweetness of cherries burst across my tongue, and my pleased sound brought a smile to Pain’s face.

“Why are you so interested in me?” I asked, my mouth shaping the words even if I wanted to ask if this was real, if this had happened. It felt real.

“Ah.” Pain rubbed his neck, ruffling his curls. “You have a nice voice. Low and sweet, with a little smokiness.

Warmth bloomed in my belly, an answering heat in my chest. It was a compliment that hit me like no other before. Or no other since, I suspected, even if I couldn’t remember them.

“It’s customary to return a compliment.” Pain fluttered his long lashes at me. “Aren’t you going to tell me I’m pretty?”

But the scene collapsed before I could say anything, before I could get an answer to the question that burned in my chest. Was this real? Had I been in all these places, with these men?

It should have felt like a victory, to remember anything at all, but all it did was make me ache for all the other moments I’d lost. All those days I’d lived, all those days I’d loved them, all the pieces of my personality now lost to me. I wanted them back.

The swirling, disorienting dark dropped me on a road this time. Moorland spread around me, the road winding, curving, and a smile touched my lips as I saw what had brought me here.

A madman in a wedding veil raced towards me, waving with delirious happiness. Madde. My darkness, the voice that lived in my head for years, that made me brave and kept my demons at bay.

Lioness, his voice brushed like cashmere across the innermost part of my mind, and all the stress melted from my bones. This time when I fell, I landed on my knees and it hurt. The floor was cold, glossy wood and it sent reverberations through my knees, hard enough to bruise.

But I was dead. Could I bruise?

You have to let us in, lioness, Madde’s voice stroked my mind, and the sensation of a bright, burning sun swelled inside me, heat bathing my soul until I could almost remember what it felt like to be alive.

“Let you in…” I mumbled, blinking until the glass room atop the Wake came into view.