Page 44 of All Hallows Trick

His happiness burst like a popped balloon, and the impact of it on my chest hurt so much that I reached for his arm, resting my hand there in silent support and apology. He dragged his long fingers through his hair, slicking strawberry strands back from his face, his eyes both sharp and distant.

“It’s not a pretty story, lioness.”

“I didn’t think it would be.”

His throat flexed against the black choker he wore, a hard swallow moving under his skin. “It starts three weeks before I died, actually,” he said far too flippantly, his eyes unfocused on the dark pink carpet running the length of the hall. “My father was an interesting man. And by interesting, I mean an evil maniac who was the head of an old mob family. He liked to kill people at the dinner table instead of torturing them in the basement like a civilised human being.”

I was sure my eyes were wide. I tried to wipe the expression off my face.

“He was very fond of shooting people, my father. Liked to hit ‘em right between the eyeballs.” He prodded himself in that spot manically, his finger shaking. I caught his hand and pulled it away, something inside me going both soft and sharp at the red mark he’d left there. I didn’t let go of his hand. “He shot the wrong person. Fool bastard started a fight with the Russians. They didn’t like the fact he’d murdered one of their higher-ups, so they took me to teach him a lesson.”

“They took you,” I echoed, the softness inside me turning to steel. I tightened my hold on his hand. “They kidnapped you?”

“Yup.” He popped the P, a manic smile on his face, and I wondered if that mania was armour, if it was the only thing keeping these memories at bay. “They went totownon me,” he said with a laugh. “Ripped out my fingernails, cut off my fingers, snipped off my toes, electrocuted me, blowtorched my chest; they spared no expense. It’s touching, really.”

“Madde,”I gasped, my gut clenching. God, he spoke of torture so casually, as if it was completely ordinary, but every word hit me with the force of a sledgehammer. Someone had done that to him, every one of those things. Ripped his fingernails off. Electrocuted him. Made him scream and bleed and sob. Horror settled over me like a layer of frost.

“That’s probably the most attention anyone ever gave me. I was always the disappointment, the overlooked son. My older brother was the prodigy, a real psychopath like my father. He was the one who found me when the Russians dumped me on the doorstep of the fancy-ass house we had in Manhattan. I remember the smirk on his face, the victory in his eyes. Smug bastard.”

I covered his hand with my other, holding it in both hands, my stomach a tangled knot. I was so shocked that rage or injustice couldn’t even form, just stunned horror.

“My father took one look at me there on the doorstep, beaten and wrecked, missing bits and pieces here and there, and sent me back.”

I must have heard him wrong. “What?” I breathed.

“He sent me back.”

Four words that hit like gunshots. The shock broke, frozen rage joining the horror in my chest. I dragged Madde into a hug and held on tight, though I should have been careful of any scrapes and bruises he got fighting the subjects.

“He sent you back,” I repeated.

“I’d shown weakness by allowing myself to be tortured.”

“You showedstrengthby surviving,” I snarled, my voice deep, my chest full of a growl. For once I wasn’t unsettled by the jaguar inside me. I was glad of it. “There’s nothing weak in survival.”

Madde’s breathing hitched, his gaze fixed down the landing. “You can probably guess what happened next. The pain and betrayal of it broke my mind. I became a real, raving lunatic. The Russians finally put me out of my misery, and that’s when I became Madness. It’s not all bad. I’m a big fan of the castle, and the power, and I can build statues whenever I want.”

I squeezed him tighter, his body like a furnace against me. Every heartbeat sent burning ice through me. “Is it your father you’re afraid will find you? Madde, he must be dead by now.”

“Oh, no,” Madde laughed. “Not him. My torturer and executioner. Dmitry. We got very well acquainted during my three week stint under his care. It wasn’t just the physical pain; he liked to play with my mind. I know it was all mind games and brainwashing now, but the trouble is he did aspectacularjob of it. He promised there’d never be any escape from him, not inNew York, not in any other country, not even in death. I know he meant it; I saw the gleam in his eye right before he burned a mark into my forearm. He’ll find me.”

I took a moment to breathe before I replied, the rage like a living thing inside me, coiling and coiling, tighter with every pass until my shoulders trembled. “It was a long time ago, Madde. That bastard will be dead. He can’t hurt you.”

Madde laughed, light and high and just a little frantic. “No, don’t you see? Where do the dead go, Cat?”

I sucked in a hard breath, my arms tightening around him. “Motherfucker,” I spat.

“I prefer motherclucker. Adds comedy value.”

His light-hearted comment made me crush his body to me, my arms shaking now, my hands too.

“I won’t let him get to you. I’ll rip the fucker into pieces before he can evenlookat you.” I couldn’t get the image of Madde tied to a chair, being burned and electrocuted and cut to shreds, out of my head. My heart was a deep, frantic thing, fury flowing through me with every beat.

I feel how much you want to kill him, my lioness,Madde said in my head, his voice more timid than it had ever been.How will you do it?

I swallowed, my thoughts full of blood and screams and exploding eyeballs. My jaguar could kill a ghost; it had killed Poppy. Eviscerated her. The memory filled me with new satisfaction when I thought about doing that to Madde’s torturer.

He shuddered against me, arms winding tight around me, hands splayed across my back.

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