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“So I’ve come to catch your flu,” she informed me, trying for humour and falling short. “Feel free to breathe all over me.”
I could barely breathe at all, but I didn’t tell her that. I was sure she already knew, sure she knew it wasn’t flu that kept me in bed. She didn’t know what I’d done, but she must have guessed Nightmare had done something, like I guessed Nightmare did something to have Honey clinging to me so tightly.
She only left when darkness fell and Death arrived. Beyond startling hard, she didn’t ask how he’d melted through the walls in a cloud of darkness, and he didn’t offer an explanation.
“Take care of her,” she’d warned, sounding tired and empty like me.
“I will,” Death had promised, laying a hand over his heart before he unveiled food and drinks and a new blanket made of the same feathers as the cloak he gave me before.
I had it wrapped around me now, on the eighth day since everyone had learned Darya was missing. I was surviving on coffee and what little scraps of food my stomach would allow. Every morning when I woke up, the bucket was empty and ready for a new day of vomit. I never asked who changed it, but it must have been one of my husbands.
Miz was here now, sitting on the floor with his back to the repaired wardrobe, his eyes far away as he turned Yena over in his hands. It was comical, seeing this beautiful, tortured man playing with a bright yellow duck plush.
“Say the word and I’ll take you away from this place. I don’t need a ferry, Prick.”
He didn’t sneer the name anymore; it was almost soft and tender on his tongue. It reminded me of Virgil calling me Prickly, and it was more comforting than I wanted to admit.
“She’ll follow me,” I said numbly, turning my head on the pillow to look at him.
“Come to the castle with me,” he countered, his golden eyes pleading. “Fuck school.”
“I can’t fuck school. My mum and dad think my future’s set by coming here, that I’ll have this illustrious career. If I drop out, I’ll let them down.”
“You could never let anyone down,” Miz replied in a whisper that made my bruised heart hurt. “And this isn’t a normal circumstance. Tell them people are getting murdered, and they’ll understand.”
“I can’t. They’ll stress about it.” The words were hollow, like my chest. I rolled onto my back automatically when Miz pushed off the floor and came to the bed, setting Yena in my lap as he fit himself awkwardly onto my mattress.
“Be selfish for once, or this is going to kill you. I’ve seen it happen before, Cat, and I won’t watch you die, too.”
I couldn’t look him in the eye. “Who?”
“A man I called my brother,” he admitted. “Nightmare got to him, too. Being alive is more important than classes, Cat. You’re missing them now, anyway.”
“Thanks for reminding me,” I muttered, rubbing the spot on my chest where it hurt fiercely.
“Here, unlock this thing and watch your ducks,” he urged, pressing my phone into my hands. I did as instructed and opened Youtube, but we’d only watched a single short before an authoritative rapping came at my door.
I jumped, ice drenching my body.
“Stay here,” Miz murmured and kissed my cheek, stunning me in place as he erupted into a seething plume of darkness. He vanished for a moment before returning. “It’s the dean.”
“I’m being kicked out,” I gasped, my panic escalating.
Miz knelt beside the bed and took my face in his hands, drawing the worst of my thorny anguish from me. “Answer it. I’ll be close by.”
My body shook as I crawled out of bed and opened the door, aware that I looked like shit with my hair greasy, face wan and sickly, and my pyjamas unchanged all week.1
“Dean Fairchild,” I said, my voice croaky. Great, I sounded like shit as well as looked like it. “I’d invite you in, but I’m sick and I don’t want you to catch it, too…”
“You do look peaky,” the head of Ford School of Medicine agreed, his brown eyes shadowed with concern. I’d only met him once during orientation, but enough to know he was in his early forties, scholarly in a rugged way, and he gave off a stern but fair vibe. “I just came to see how you’re doing. You were flagged on the system as missing a week of classes and, well, no prizes for guessing why.”
I smiled weakly. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. I hate missing lectures.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said with an understanding smile that surprised me. I’d always expected Ford's dean to be a hardass. “There’s always a few who end up getting sick the first week. The popular theory is a change in food, but I’m more inclined to believe it’s the shocking amount of alcohol imbibed in a single night that’s doing more damage.”
“I wish I was hungover,” I murmured thoughtlessly, and horror shocked me like a lightning bolt to the heart but he just chuckled.
“I don’t doubt it.” Dean Fairchild gave me a sad smile. “If this is Halloween-related, don’t worry. I’ll make sure it never happens again.” There was something in his tone that made my heart thud harder, sweat prickling my upper lip. I got the sense he wasn’t just talking about cracking down on wild parties, but how would he know what happened that night? “Lawrence House is safe, and I’ll make sure it stays that way, so take as long as you need to convalesce.”
