Page 117 of Monstrous Travels as Wicked as Sin

Joe’s eyes grew larger than the full moon just now setting close to the horizon. “No. No, I don’t think I can.”

“Well, one of us has to.”

“I will,” called Althea.

“You stay the fuck away from Moxie!” yelled Percy. Then to Joe, “She’s vicious. Did you see?”

Joe nodded his stern agreement.

“Look, you can—just—like this…” Percy pushed the kitten into Joe’s hand, and Joe, reluctantly, sympathetically, took hold of her. Percy passed the knife across and said, “There.” He called out, “Now Joe is going to kill Moxie,” his voice breaking sharply on her name.

Joe whispered across, “I don’t think anyone believes I can actually do this. Least of all you.”

Guilty, Percy searched for a response that was anything but the admission of his complete failure, but then Molly spoke up. “Okay.”

Percy looked up hopefully. “Okay?”

She shrugged. “Okay.” Molly jumped down from her grave and walked, nimble between the bones, to the centre of the clearing. “You’re right. I don’t want you to kill the kitten. I may have murdered dozens of children, and quite a few adults, but…” She sighed. “You win.” With a motion to the bundle under Joe’s arm, “You have the sheath.” Then to Leo, “You have the spear.” And with her eyes on Moxie, “And I have my companion. And immortal life. And magical powers. I’ll tell you what…”

Joe lowered the kitten, pulling her back against his chest, where she clawed into him and scrambled straight back to Percy’s shoulder.

Molly said, “You give her to me, let me go, and we’re done.”

Percy had been expecting it. Joe had too. It was exactly why he’d convinced Percy to keep the kitten. But it was so sudden. So easy. Too easy.

Joe said, “How about you leave and we’ll bring her to you later?”

She countered with, “How about I just reanimate my skeletons and zombies?”

Percy knew it was a stupid risk to take. But he could see his friends were exhausted, cut and bleeding, close to breakingpoint. If she did that, it was over. So he did the only thing he knew to do, and, cradling Moxie, he moved towards Molly.

The kitten clambered up to his chin, burying her head there, purring, and breaking his heart. But he didn’t let it show in any way beyond the unconscious stroking of her fur and the protective hands that held her tight by his heart.

He stopped in front of Molly, who, in her expression, looked so much like Cleo. Whose face had softened, who had an expectant sparkle in her eyes, who showed a clear fondness for him and the cat.

“You won’t hurt her, will you?” said Percy, trying halfheartedly to get the tiny claws out of his shirt.

“I promise you. She’ll be safe with me.” She watched on, that same knowing smile playing around her bloody lips. She tried to sweeten the deal a little, revealing, “You know, I had a cat once. I loved it dearly. More than you can imagine.”

Moxie nuzzled her head against Percy’s chin, and for all the rest of the world, he never would have done it. But for Joe, Leo, Althea, and Giordano, he picked her off his chest, kissed her forehead, gave her one final stroke, and with wet eyes and shaking hands, placed her in Molly’s upturned palms.

It was the most vulnerable Joe had ever seen Percy, as he watched Molly, frightened, desperate, horribly subjugated. The guilt Joe felt at seeing Percy like that. He wanted to be in the middle of it, protecting him, never again watching Percy step out onto that ledge. But that’s what he did every time, for all of them.

Molly picked the kitten up, examined her, then brought her face in close and kissed her cheek. “She’s gorgeous,” she said. “Thank you.”

Joe could see the way Percy’s shoulders lightened, that smile that was so, so beautiful. The very essence of the man he loved so deeply. And Percy looked for him. Always for Joe first to see that Joe was happy. That Joe thought he’d done well, and thatJoe loved him. That look of complete and pure love that had turned the whole world upside down for Joe in the best and most glorious way.

Then his head snapped sharply to the left with a gut-pulverising crack, and Percy dropped down dead on the wet grass of Montmartre Cemetery.

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

YES, YOU READ THAT CORRECTLY. THAT REALLY JUST HAPPENED. SORRY.

Joe heard nothing. Saw nothing but the limp body of the man he loved—the man he was going to marry—lying there on the ground, sharp bones sticking into him, that he did not pull away from. No breath moved his body, and it was over in the blink of an eye. Too fast. Percy was gone, and it wasn’t something Joe had the ability to process.

That thing, that heap on the ground—that wasn’t him. It simply wasn’t. Percy was absent from it, the soul of him, the essence of him, and Joe could not fathom that change, because Percy had promised. He said he would always come for Joe. He said he would do it again and always, and it was eternity, and Percy had promised. And Joe never doubted him.

Althea was screaming, crying, Giordano was pacing somewhere, his head in his hands, and Leo, still clutching that spear, stared at the corpse in much the same way Joe did, but with more anger, more loss even, because Percy had never made him that same promise. Leo didn’t know in his heart the way Joe did that Percy could not possibly be dead.

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