Page 11 of All Hallows Game

Miz’s pale throat bobbed. He didn’t believe that. Neither did I. This felt different, the unravelling of the realm so much bigger than the thunderstorms we experienced when malevolent spirits escaped. What the hell had the power to do this to the realm of the dead? Only another god possessed this level of power, which meant one of us had turned traitor.

Or they were making a power play for the big position. My position.

“It can’t be snowing,” Miz repeated, frozen as snowflakes gathered on his shoulders. It had been snowing the day Nightmare made him kill his sister. His misery was so pronounced now that I sensed it even though that wasn’t my gift, my curse.

“Write a report,” I told Pifang, trying to keep the bite of panic from my voice. “Everything you can think of. I’ll be back in three hours.”

His scowl expressed his disapproval at us bailing on him again, but this was more important. Miz was more important. If someone wanted to steal my mantle, they were welcome to it. I’d never asked to be Death. But now they’d scared Miz, I’d make sure they knew pain inside and out.

Tor glanced at his phone as we turned from the wreckage at the edge of our realm, his face tightening with pain or anger before he swept the expression away. Even knowing Tor as long as I had, it was hard to read him sometimes. He was so open with his emotions that him concealing anything was a surprise.

“What is it?” I asked, wrapping my hand around his arm.

“Cold caller,” he drawled, the life and amusement returning to his face. I wasn’t sure I bought it. “Probably trying to sell me a fire extinguisher because my men are so damn hot.” He threw his arms around my shoulders and Miz’s, as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

That I definitely did not believe.

None of us mentioned Cat, but I got the sense our minds were synced in thinking about her.

The same way it felt wrong to be with Cat without the guys, it felt wrong to be here without her. But none of it had been real. It was all Nightmare manipulating us. A fling—that was how we had to think of it. Just a fling.

But even that felt wrong.

CHAPTER NINE

CAT

The last thing I expected to see when I crested the hill back to Ford and let myself in the gates was Duncan Ford sitting on the snowy ground in a blue T-shirt and soaked jeans, rocking back and forth. A horrible, wailing keen came from him and stabbed right into my chest. I froze. Was this what Byron looked like every time Nightmare blackmailed him into completing a little task?

I resumed walking, a vicious ache behind my ribs.

“Is this a private party, or can anyone join?” I asked, sitting in the snow beside Duncan, cold immediately soaking into my clothes. The ground dipped below us, the road to the campus swerving around the swell of snow-capped hills, so we could see all of Ford from up here. I watched the school warily and wondered where Nightmare was hiding.

“Go away,” Duncan rasped, his wailing cut off. The abrupt silence was somehow worse.

I stretched out my legs in the snow as if it was a balmy day in June and not blisteringly freezing. My toes felt like icicles in the running shoes I’d thrown on, in such a rush to find Tor that I hadn’t considered the damn snow.

“I’m serious,” I said with a sideways glance at Duncan. “I could really use a screaming session myself.”

He looked so far removed from the perfect rich boy he’d been at the start of term. His dark hair was rumpled and limp, his skin foregoing its tan hue for an unhealthy pallor, clothes mismatched instead of perfectly put together.

“I remember you the night she cursed us,” I said when Duncan was silent, just staring out at Ford with dead blue eyes. “You were the only other person as sober and terrified as me. You’re pretty much the only person I know isn’t working for her. Everyone else… I look at them and wonder if they’re the one who summoned her here, who started this whole fucking thing.”

My words hung between us, the silence deafening. My ears buzzed with static. Why did I confess that, to a veritable damned stranger?

“It’s supposed to be over,” he said eventually, his voice rough from screaming. He glanced at me from the corner of his eye, snowflakes caught on his eyelashes. “But it doesn’t feel over.”

“She’s still here,” I agreed.

Duncan laughed humourlessly, his arms around his knees. “I don’t think she’ll ever leave. And do you know what happened when I tried to get off this godforsaken rock today?”

I swallowed, dread blooming in my chest. “You tried to leave Ford’s End?”

“Yep.” He popped the P, a manic energy entering him now. “I got all the way to the docks, walked down the pier, even got on a pathetic little boat. I rowed two, maybe three strokes, and the boat turned to fucking splinters and dropped me in the water. But when I crawled out, I wasn’t in the ocean.” He laughed again, louder, sharper. “I was in that lake.” He stabbed a finger in its direction; I avoided the silver glare off its surface, not wanting to think about the last time I was there.

“We’re stuck here,” I confirmed. “She covered the whole island in a spell. Or a curse. Fuck, I don’t know.” I rubbed my stinging eyes. “I don’t know anything about magic.”

“What were you?” Duncan asked. He didn’t need to elaborate on the question.

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