Page 74 of All Hallows Game

“We’ll find Virgil,” Tor vowed with unwavering confidence, misinterpreting my sadness.

“I tried,” I said, my throat lined with glass, their closeness enough to comfort but never to dispel my abject terror over what Nightmare could be doing to my brother right this second. “I’ve tried tracking the footage, and searching the island for underground chambers, and there’s nothing.” I sniffled, pushing through despite my swollen throat. “I know he’s somewhere on Ford, I know she’s keeping him close just to make it hurt worse when I can’t save him.”

Tor brushed the tears from my cheeks, leaning closer to kiss my cheek, lingering until I could breathe again.

“We’ll find him. You have three gods at your back now, beautiful. We’ll—”

We all jumped when ABBA’s “Honey Honey” blasted at full volume from the middle of the table, so incongruous with the dark gothic dining room, the heavy cloud of suffering and grief around us, that for a moment all I could do was stare at it.

“Is it her?” Misery hissed, teeth bared, pressing closer to me. He had a death grip on my hand, and I didn’t know if it was to keep me or himself safe.

“It’s just Honey,” I soothed, squeezing his fingers, taking a deep breath to compose myself. “Tor, can you pass it to me?”

“Of course, pussy cat,” Tor agreed calmly, releasing my hand. I knew Miz would sooner lose his hand than let go of mine; Tor was the only option.

“Hey, you,” I said, answering the call, already eager for the sound of her voice but terrified to hear Nightmare’s taunts instead. What if she’d taken Honey, too? What if she’d—

“What do you wear for your best friend’s memorial? They don’t cover this in Harper’s Bazaar,” Honey blurted, clearly in full panic mode. “Is a black dress too sombre? What about a black dress with frills? And then, I have a pair of ragged jeans and that dinosaur T-shirt Byron was always trying to steal, but maybe jeans are too casual? And then there’s the bright pink fuck-you dress Byron would have loved at such a serious occasion.”

Fuck. The memorial was today? I leaned my head back against Death’s shoulder, losing whatever energy I had left. The funeral had been bad enough, but it was small and intimate, the majority of Ford students kept away. But everyone would be at the memorial. I didn’t have the social battery today. I just wanted to curl up in the arms of my men and hide from the world. But I wouldn’t abandon Honey to that vortex of faux-grief and well-meaning comments.

“If you wear a bright pink fuck-you dress, I will too,” I offered, swallowing the knot in my throat. She was right; black was too cliché for our Byron. “I’ve got some studded jewellery, too, and my jacket that says FUCK YOU, I WON’T DO WHAT YOU TELL ME on the back.”

“Byron loved that jacket,” Honey sobbed, her manic edge turning to tears instantly. “Didn’t he threaten to tell your parents about that blunt we smoked in sixth form if you didn’t give him the jacket?”

“Yes, and I stole it back the following weekend,” I agreed, pain pulling across my chest even as I smiled.

Honey was quiet for a long minute. “I don’t know what to do without him.”

“I don’t, either,” I admitted, closing my eyes when they stung. “I don’t think I ever will. He should still be here.” If Nightmare hadn’t blackmailed him, he wouldn’t be gone.

I tightened my fingers around Miz’s when he tried to pull away from me. I wouldn’t let him shoulder all the responsibility for Byron’s death. It was her command, her knife, her plan all along.

“I just don’t understand why it happened,” Honey said, her pain twisting into anger. “Why did Nightmare target Byron?”

I startled. She’d never connected Nightmare to Byron’s death before. “She wants us broken,” I said in a quiet, dead voice. “Every last one of us.”

“The monster attacks are her too, aren’t they?”

I pressed the side of my face against Death’s chest, my eyes burning. “I think so.”

A manic laugh left her. “She never left. Even though we’re back to normal, even though I’m not a cat anymore, she never left. We’ll never escape her.”

“We’re going to be fine,” I lied. “She won’t win. Not after Byron, no fucking way. We’re going to survive and that bitch is going to die.”

Honey just laughed again, a joyless sound. “Sure, we’ll out-survive a goddess. Like she won’t slaughter every last one of us on this forsaken island.”

Now she sounded like Byron, and that made me cry harder. “Don’t give up,” I pleaded. “Don’t give up, Honey.”

She sighed. “What’s the point in having a memorial for Byron when the reason he’s dead is still out there? What we need to do is get a hunting party together and kill her.”

Hearing that cold, calculated plan come from Honey, my eternally bright and optimistic vicar’s-daughter best friend was jarring.

“Don’t do anything without me,” I said, clearing my throat. “Okay?”

If she moved against Nightmare, the goddess would kill her in a heartbeat. I didn’t breathe until Honey sighed, “Okay.”

“Wear the pink dress,” I rasped. “I’ll be there soon.”

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