Page 47 of All Hallows Fate

I could feel his corruption and greed, as if had left a physical stain, a stench that made my nose wrinkle and my stomach churn.

Ropes binding my arms, four walls closing in, tighter with every second as he leaned over me. The shine of excitement in dark eyes. Pain blasting through my body, making white erupt across my vision before darkness swept in.

“Cat,” Death murmured, his chest brushing my back.

My heart screwed up tight and turned itself inside out. I just wanted him to hold me, like he did in the memories that had broken through—two more on the way to Hunger’s estate, both equally full of love and tenderness and unfaltering passion. I knew he wanted to hold me, too.

“We’ll find him. I swear to you.”

But he couldn’t swear that, could he? We had no guarantee there’d be anything left of him when we finally destroyed Violence.

I turned and wound my arms around his middle, holding on tight, hugging with enough ferocity for both of us. And as the pen in my pocket warmed against my chest, another memory struck, so clear and so devastatingly perfect.

In the memory, I trembled, my fear like a tornado shaking my bones. But when Death pulled me into his lap and wrapped me up in him, I knew I was safe.

“I would start and end wars to keep you safe,” he said with such beautiful tenderness that I thought I was crying, even on the hill overlooking the circle. “I would do anything to ease your mind.”

His hand moulded to my cheek, breaking down the walls I’d thrown up when I was… threatened? Attacked? That memory remained out of reach, but this scene was technicolour as Death kissed me and chased all my fear away.

“Cat,” Death breathed now, his mouth skimming my temple, bringing me back to the mist and the summoning stones. “Where did you go, little bride?”

“Into the past,” I whispered, and allowed myself to lay my head on his chest for a moment. It was hard to let go, hard to prise myself away, but we needed an intact summoning stone to summon spirits home, and if there wasn’t one here, I would scour the entire domain for one. Death’s life depended on it.

“There are more summoning circles,” I said, not a question, as I turned to face Hunger and my husbands. “Where?”

“The closest one is on the other side of that mount.” Hunger pointed to the low mountain whose sharp black point thrust into the sky, the sun beginning to set on another day. We’d freed the creatures from their animal forms and Pain had given them a home, but after learning of Death’s fading, the broken stone circle felt like a failure. It felt like no progress at all.

“Call your shadow shires,” I told my husbands, turning away from the broken stones.

“Cat, it’s too late to set off now,” Pain said with a softness that made me want to cry or scream. “We’ll go first thing in the morning.”

“And where do you all plan on resting in the meantime?” Hunger enquired, an eyebrow raised.

Tor clapped his shoulder. “You’ve got plenty of rooms in that manor, and don’t lie to yourself. You’ll love playing host.”

31

Cat

There was a box in my hands. Just big enough to hold a book. As old as the unfamiliar house around me. The old mahogany dug into my hands, sturdier than it had any right to be, no chips or worn patches, only the blood that seeped from one corner, dripping down the ghostly white of my nightgown.

I couldn’t let it go. I had to hold onto this box forever.

Don’t drop it, don’t you dare fucking drop it, this is the heart of the man you love.

A droplet of blood hung from the edge of the box and my heart stuttered as I watched it, knowing I was running out of time. I had to return it so he couldn’t control him.

“Control him,” I echoed my thoughts, confusion digging into my brow, pulling my lips down.

“That’s how the siblings forced him to join their charade,” an unfamiliar female voice said, and I turned on the spot, startling when Hunger’s showroom-tidy house shifted into the dark opulence of Darkmore Manor. But it wasn’t Cruelty who stood in a shaft of moonlight beneath the glass roof of the conservatory, scowling at a red-veined black vine as it brushed her arm. Every plant in here spelled death; would I watch the slow suffering and inevitable passing of this woman?

I clutched the mahogany box closer to my chest, a protective growl shuddering up my throat.

“The heart,” she said, nodding at the box in my hand. “It’s how they controlled him. You need to get it from Violence and return it to its rightful owner, or everything you’ve done these few days will be for naught.”

“Who are you?” It was hard to get my eyes to focus, but I thought I glimpsed long dark hair brushed to a tangle-free perfection, skin the colour of a snow, and big eyes that narrowed in anger as she stared at the box in my hand. I’d held it before, hadn’t I? It felt familiar enough to horrify me, but I couldn’t remember why I was so afraid of it. Except…

This is the heart of the man you love.