Page 71 of All Hallows Fate

And I had. With the scales in my left hand, glowing brighter than ever, casting the lake and the shore and the old trees of Ford into rosy relief, I judged him as guilty, and I sentenced him to death. Eternal, irreversible death.

But then Tor yelped. And Miz snarled. And I understood what Violence meant by preparations when I angled myself to keep both him in view and… and the spirits gleaming between the trees. Fifty of them. A hundred. More.

They ought to fear Death, ought to obey his command. They shouldn’t be attacking us. Yet when those gossamer hands touched Madde, he bucked and hissed, and pain scythed through our bond.

From Madde, from Tor, from Miz. From Death as five spirits swarmed him. From Pain as a ghostly man grabbed his bound hands.

Joanna—where was Joanna?

Violence grasped hold of the spears keeping him down and pulled them out like splinters, uncomfortable but far from fatal.

My breathing went thin. I thrust the scales forward, unleashing another wash of rose magic. It didn’t stop the spirits, didn’t stop my husbands’ pain, didn’t slow Violence as he climbed to his feet and brushed dirt off the sleeve of his black suit jacket.

“Now,” he said flatly. “Hand over the scales, Cat.”

48

Cat

Satisfaction loomed in Violence’s eyes, dark and sickening. He thought he’d won. And with my bonded ones trapped… maybe he had. But we were death gods. I had to believe we had the edge in a fight against spirits; they were bound to the laws of the domain, but the domain was ours.

“Give me Pain’s heart,” I countered, reaching for each of my bonds and sending them strength. I kept an eye on the spirits that converged on the lake, and it occurred to me that they should have grabbed me, too. Which meant Violence had a different plan for me.

My stomach twisted, but I clenched my jaw and tried to keep fear out of my expression. The gleam in Violence’s eyes told me I failed; he saw that I was terrified, even if my rage held an equal weight. The sick fucker loved seeing me afraid.

Phantom pain crashed through my stomach, memories of magic and fists making my bones cave so clear that I wanted to turn on the muddy bank of the lake and flee. But Death needed me; if we let Violence amass any more power, Death would fade forever.

So I widened my stance, lifted my head high, and held his stare. “Give me Pain’s heart, and I’ll give you the scales.”

“Give me the scales,” he countered, “and I’ll give you his heart.”

“You don’t deny possessing it,” I observed, cold crawling down the back of my neck when the spirits pressed close enough for me to see them. Something was wrong with them. Their eyes bulged, hands trembled, and even though they were dead, their breathing came fast. Frenetic.

“Why should I deny what we both know?” He came closer, his shiny shoes not leaving an impression in the mud, the same way I remembered Nightmare’s avoiding the dirt. Everything she did to me, everyone she took from me, was because of Cruelty and this monster.

Injustice burned in my chest, the scales glowing brighter, casting a flash into the sky and momentarily brightening the clouds over Ford’s End. Violence’s eyes flashed, too—covetous hunger. Pure greed. He craved power. He’d consumed the magic of the domain with his bottomless hunger, and now he wanted my power. I bared my sharp canines and hated the way his flat mouth curved on the edges.

“Hand me the scales, Judgement.” His attention went behind me, and I itched to see what he was looking at, but I wouldn’t fall for a trick. “Or you’ll discover just what my new spirits are capable of.”

I sucked in a breath when Tor roared, and I sank frantically through our bond to find pain. Sharp, cutting pain.

“Alright,” I blurted. “Okay.” My knuckles were white where I gripped the scales, the plates almost level. So close—we were so close to ending this, to restoring balance to the realm, to giving Death his power back. I was so close to saving my husband, my home. The pressure of it, the responsibility, sat on my shoulders like a gargoyle, stone fingers dug into my skin, bruising my flesh. “Give me Pain’s heart at the same time—an equal exchange.”

Violence scoffed, but a flourish of shadow fell from his hands to reveal the box from my dream. The box left in the back of my car to taunt me. MISERY, the lid still said, but I knew now that was a lie. It was Pain’s heart inside. Pain’s heart I’d once held, and left so carelessly in the castle when I should have guarded it with my life.

“This is tedious,” Violence said, but he passed the box slowly at the same time I stretched my hand out to give him the scales.

I retreated three steps with the wooden box clutched to my chest, my breath catching when my feet slid in the mud. Violence didn’t even notice; all his greedy attention was fixed on the scales in his hands. His smug smile spread wider, filling his face with vile glee.

“Cat,” Pain said, agonised, struggling against the spirit that pinned him in place.

That should have been my first warning. No one else had spoken in minutes, not since Tor screamed. But my heart was in my throat, my hands threatening to shake as I flipped the lid on the wooden box and—

“It’s empty,” I cried, my head snapping up. “You piece of shit,” I snarled at Violence.

His smile grew further, filling every bit of his loathsome face. “It’s hardly my fault you were naive enough to fall for that obvious ploy. But thank you for the scales.”

My pulse was so quick I felt it in my throat. I squeezed the box so hard in my hands that magic erupted and turned it to splinters. “Where is my husband’s heart?”