Page 42 of All Hallows Trick

I threw my arms around him, squeezing him tight, my eyes burning. “I thought something bad had happened to you.”

His arms engulfed me in heat and comfort, the scent of melted sugar on my tongue when I sucked in breath after breath, filling my lungs with him. “It just knocked me for six when each spirit was killed. Nothing permanent. When the realm heals, so will I.”

“What if it doesn’t heal?”

“It will,” he argued with a tone of finality.

I wanted to push for true answers, to force him into making a plan for when the worst happened, because it always happened, but I was too exhausted in my bones to fight right now. I just hugged him tightly and refused to let go.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CAT

Ilater found out Tor and Virgil ran the creatures out of Death’s domain, sending them back to Ford’s End where they’d come from. It wasn’t an ideal solution, but it was better than unleashing them upon another place. At least the people of Ford’s End were used to hearing howls and seeing wild animals in the trees. But anyone they killed would be on our conscience.

The thought of more people being slaughtered like the florist and Caroline made something twist behind my ribs, but it would be worse if the subjects stayed. Every spirit murdered weakened Death. He kept insisting he’d be fine when the realm healed, that he’d recover his strength, but I wasn’t sure I believed that. Something was eating away at the cities here; I’d seen it myself now. A whole street had fallen into empty nothingness on the other side of the realm. How long before it caught up to us in Madde’s castle?

I stood at a tall, arched window on the second floor landing, my arms wrapped around myself, and … I wanted to go home. I didn’t care about my room at Ford; that had never really felt safe. I wasn’t even thinking about my bedroom at home with Mum and Dad. I wanted Death’s castle, wanted to wake up in bed with him, Tor, and Miz, warm and safe. Tor and Miz would bicker, making me laugh, and Death would take advantage of their distraction to steal me from under the covers, carrying me into the shower where we’d connect over and over, in the most delicious ways.

We were safe here, but it wasn’t the same.

I jumped when something soft and plush yanked over my head, a weight settling over my shoulders, reaching my hips. “What…?” I frowned at the warm, orange fleece that draped across me. “Is this a duck onesie?”

“No.” Madde scoffed, leaning against the window a foot away from me, his eyes dark and watchful, hiding an emotion I couldn’t place. “It’s a hooded blanket.”

I gave him a questioning look but didn’t stop him when he tugged the orange hood into place on my head, cutting off the cold air around my face.

“Look, now you have a bill.”

I reached up and felt the duck’s bill poking out from my hood. A rusty laugh shook my chest. “How did you know I like ducks?”

“I know literally everything about you,” he replied conversationally, like that wasn’t alarming.

“I doubt that,” I replied, gazing out the window because I didn’t want to figure out why it hurt to look at him. It was no easier to look at Death or Miz these days, both of them hiding injuries and illnesses. Tor was stronger, healing, but I remembered the bite on his shoulder, and guilt pinched my heart.

“Cactus Bengal-Tiger Wallison, eighteen years old, nineteen in a month. Born in Senegal on a business trip, raised in London until the incident where I fell in love with you, upon which your family relocated to Harrogate along with two other families experiencing scandal in the South.”

I wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or horrified. “Don’t tell anyone my middle name.”

“Why not? It’s fierce and cute. I should start calling you tigress.”

“Oh god,” I groaned, laughter breaking free. “Don’t.”

Madde’s eyes curved in a smile, whatever emotion I’d glimpsed the shadow of earlier replaced with amusement. “Your favourite colour is a radioactive shade of green, your favourite hobby is reading but itwasjogging until the bully scared you away from it—I’ll kill him for that, by the way—your favourite coffee is caramel macchiato, your favourite food—”

“Okay, I believe you,” I cut in, shaking my head, my stomach in a strange freefall. “How did you find out all that shit anyway?”

He shrugged a shoulder, the tight motorcycle shirt he wore stretching across his chest. “Ten percent research, ninety percent listening.”

“You eavesdropped on my life.”

“Pretty much. It was fun.” At my incredulous look, he added, “I’d been bored for fifty years by then. Nothing exciting ever happens here, and going above doesn’t hold a single bit of appeal for me.”

“You went to Ford’s End with me, Miz, and Tor,” I pointed out, and immediately felt my face heat at the memory of him watching them take me against the side of the library. It cooled when I remembered Alastor had watched us. It made me feel dirty, inside and out.

“That was different,” Madde said, and didn’t elaborate.

I turned sideways so I could look at him head-on. “Different how?”

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