Page 19 of A Match Made in Hell

Sat beneath a coconut tree in a tropical-themed dining hall for – according to my not-entirely-accurate wardrobe calendar – the fifty-seventh day in a row, I stare glumly at some humans on the next bench over and poke fried pineapple around my plate.

Eating is a habit more than a necessity.

Sometimes I come here to smell the sand dusted along the floor and pretend I’m staying in a hotel by the sea, but my imagination is failing me today.

The scrape of cutlery and buzz of chatter is like white noise I want to drown out but can’t.

Every day, I’m the new kid in school with no one to sit with.

I haven’t seen Sath since our trip to the cinema.

Not properly, anyway. When he’s in Dionysus he stays on his throne, refusing to engage with anyone apart from the demons whispering whatever monstrosities demons like to whisper into his ears.

Sometimes, his gaze catches mine, and he offers me a small smile, like we’re sharing a secret.

The feeling of warmth it suffuses in me is brief, a match sparking before being snuffed out, leaving me colder than before.

Clearly my attempts to get him to feel more human have backfired, because I’m the one left with a hollow ache in my chest, a gnawing in my stomach, a weight in my legs that makes it hard to rise in the morning.

Every day, home feels a little further away. I can’t visualise what it looks like any more. Noah may as well be on Pluto at this point. I don’t want to do another task; I want to lie under my covers and never come out again.

You’re throwing your life away, Willow.

I shove my turtle-shell tray across the table. I’m one self-pitying thought away from turning into Sath, sticking my head in the sand, with no motivation to solve my problems because I’ve become so distant from the world I’ve forgotten what I’m fighting for.

A splash of bright colour draws my attention across the room – it’s Harper, the girl I met on my first night, the one who was nice to me for no reason.

Her hair is blue today, and her skirt resembles an artist’s palette, covered in splotches of red, green and yellow.

She’s laughing with two others, a boy and a girl who are like faded watercolour in comparison to her.

I jump to my feet, staring at her retreating form, a plan manifesting.

Days felt like weeks when I lay in bed moping after Mum died.

I’d listen to Noah come and go, not knowing how much time had passed because he never checked on me, thinking I’d emerge when I was ready.

I was never ready. It was only when Sasha returned and forced me outside that time sped up again, those nights of distraction moving my life forward like a bullet train I couldn’t stop.

I need time to move faster here too.

Sasha may not be an option, but Harper is.

Her giggles, bright and infectious, echo in my ear.

This wouldn’t be like last time. I’d make sure of it.

I know the cost of getting too distracted now, of spiralling out of control.

This would simply be a conversation or two to help me make it through the day.

Thus, my fruit salad is abandoned in favour of Mission Find Willow a Friend, and I leave the cave with a spring in my step. This’ll work. I’ll have something to perk me up between each task and I’ll be home before I know it.

I increase my pace as Harper and her friends board a lift.

Shit. It’s moving upwards before I can jump in, so I settle for hopping on the next one, wedging myself between a boy who smells inexplicably like petrol and a girl who I suspect may be new if the tear tracks on her cheeks are anything to go by.

I think follow Harper , and hope this contraption will understand where I need to go.

Something tugs on my stomach when we reach the entertainment floor, so I rush off, poking my head into rooms filled with pool tables built out of bones and balls that look like enlarged eyes.

Personally I do not think a ball staring at me would help me take my best shot, but the dead in here are not to be deterred, cheering when a particularly bloodshot-looking ball drops into the corner pocket.

No Harper though. I keep moving, past a bowling alley (the skittles are, once again, made of bone, but the balls are sensible at least) along with the arcade room and projection caves.

Each room blazes with colour, like every open doorway is a television screen blaring brightly in a place where all the other lights have been switched off.

They’re the antithesis of the corridors themselves, where the cliff is crumbling in places, rock peeling like old paint to reveal darker stone beneath.

Further down the corridor, there’s a yell. A bang. Someone screams, ‘ Stop! ’

Something growls in response. Something distinctly inhuman. The floor beneath my feet shakes.

My heart stalls for a second, and then I’m running towards the noise.

I skid to a stop outside one of the smaller rooms, used for private games and tournaments. Harper’s inside with her two friends and, of all people, Aric. The sharp spike of his tail repeatedly bashes the sides of the pool table so hard I think the legs may splinter.

Shit. When I said I’d be what I needed to be to make a friend, heroic saviour wasn’t on my list of options.

I’m neither heroic nor a saviour. Getting involved with Aric will get me killed; I saw that much my first night here.

If I manage to stop him doing whatever he clearly wants to, he’ll go complaining to Sath and I don’t know if Sath would be able to protect me from punishment.

Not if it’ll risk inciting the riot he fears.

Harper’s face pales when she catches sight of me. Shakes her head and mouths something that looks suspiciously like go . My feet are rooted to the spot.

I’m on another cliff edge: run and save myself, or stay and deal with the consequences later.

There’s only one smart choice.

And yet I don’t move.

Aric’s tail collides with the pool table once more, and the leg snaps.

The table buckles, crashing to the floor on one side; Harper and her friends dart out of the way as balls pelt towards their feet.

Aric grabs the top end of his tail, caressing it before twisting it round his palm like he’s preparing to use it as a whip. Nausea churns my stomach.

Nausea, tinged with rage. Once again, I’m reminded of how the demons are ruining this place.

If this is supposed to be a middle ground, maybe the demons should start acting like it, instead of milling around instilling fear into everyone.

Forget setting them on fire with Tartarus’s flames, if the gates weren’t broken, I’d go to Sath right now and demand he shove every last one through.

Let them torture each other for eternity instead.

‘Little humans,’ Aric says.‘You have been naughty, haven’t you?’

Please. They weren’t that far ahead of me; they can barely have been in this room more than a minute. As someone who’s been called naughty more times than she can count, I can say with confidence you need at least two minutes.

‘I’m going to cut you into pieces.’ Aric drags the spiked end of his tail across the boy’s cheek, slicing into his skin. Blood wells in the thin cut. Aric smacks his lips, and sighs. ‘Oh, I will enjoy eating you.’

Ew.

This is definitely the part where I should leave.

Absolutely. Definitely.

And yet for some reason, my hand finds itself grabbing a pool cue.

Harper’s eyes go wide. She shakes her head a little more vehemently.

But the three of them clearly aren’t going to do anything, and someone has to.

Why should Aric get to do what he likes because he’s bigger than them, because the rules allow him to – because Sath allows him to?

He’s a demon with a bad haircut, why should he get to decide who does or doesn’t get chopped to pieces today?

Fuck it.

‘Hey!’ I call out.

Aric spins round.

‘Leave them alone.’

At the sight of me, Aric’s lips curl, revealing a set of long fangs protruding from his gums. Gross. He sniffs the air – sniffs me , my scent, most likely, to see if he deems me tasty – the gesture reminiscent of an animal waking from a nap because their owner waved a treat in front of their nose.

But the way he looks isn’t the worst part of him. No, it’s the way I can sense his malice leaking from his pores, like the evil is a stench he can’t wash off; he’s a rotten apple, rancid and reeking, only growing worse with age.

His yellow eyes glow red, as though, like Sath, he holds a part of Tartarus within himself.

Unlike Sath, though, he has no desire to keep it under control.

His tail whips back and forth. Harper and her friends hold hands, cowering away from its movements. If they wanted to return the favour and come to my rescue, now would be the time, because I regret both my life and death choices right now.

I should have kept my nose out.

Aric springs into the air. I dodge him, barely, and the spectators, such as they are, gasp and scream.

His claws tear through my shirt; scattered pieces of yellow fabric drift to the floor around me.

I bare my teeth. Aric swipes at me, catching my chin this time, the pain a sharp sting along my jaw.

I brandish the pool cue, trying to act threatening.

I’m not sure what my plan is here. Aric is all muscle and I’m, well .

. . I’m five foot five and have never set foot in a gym.

He lunges again. This time, I’m ready for him, sidestepping the attack and ramming the cue towards his stomach.

He moves so fast I think he impales himself ; the cue punctures flesh with such force I can’t take any of the credit.

He doesn’t stop coming though, allowing the cue to go deeper while leaning towards me.

Blood leaks out the side of his wound, coating my hands.

I gag, trying to pull away, but instead he drags me closer, arms locking around mine, and I can’t escape, can’t get away from his hot, putrid breath as his face draws near. My arms tremble.

He burrows his nose in my hair and all but moans, ‘You smell . . . divine .’

Ugh. Fuck this creep. I twist the cue with all my might, and eventually I must hit something that hurts because he whimpers, spasms, and drops to the floor.

He rolls from side to side – acting like a bit of a baby, honestly, I’d have thought a demon would have a higher pain threshold given how much they enjoy dealing it out – while his hands grapple to pull out the cue.

Standing over his writhing form, staring into eyes which burn with hate, hate for me , hate for what I’ve done, I can’t deny the small thrill I get from having this much power over him. I’ve never had power over anything before.

And with that power, I can stop him hurting anyone in this room.

I march over to the wall and retrieve another pool cue hanging from a rack. I stare at Aric again, cue poised to strike. The humans whimper, but they don’t speak. Don’t try and stop me. They want this too.

Maybe we really are all bad people.

I ram the cue into Aric’s eye. His legs jerk out, like I’ve jolted his nervous system with electricity. His arms flail around. He’s desperate to get up. I can sense how badly he wants to hurt me; every snarl is a promise of retribution.

He can’t do a thing. Not now, not when he’s at my mercy.

Finally, he goes still, and I exhale a shaky breath. A smile threatens to bloom on my face as a jolt of victory shoots through me. I saved Harper and her friends. I did something good, for once.

The next thing I know, I’m engulfed in bubblegum and fluff as Harper throws her arms around me. ‘You saved us.’

A tentative smile spreads on my lips. I pat her on the back, awkward at first because she’s unfamiliar in my arms, softer than Sasha and smaller than Noah, but soon my body relaxes, relishing in the first human contact I’ve had in weeks. It feels a little like peace.

And then she pulls away, lashes stained with tears, and anything resembling gratitude on her face fades into worry as she looks at Aric’s prone form.

Oh shit.

Only the flames of Tartarus can truly destroy a demon.

What have I done?

All the adrenaline in my veins drains away, leaving me shivering in its absence. Panic gnaws at me, chipping at my victory until it seems like more of a loss.

Tantrums will get you nowhere, Willow.

This is exactly the kind of situation a calm, responsible person would not be getting themselves into. I toss the cue on the floor as though it’s a red-hot poker. Sath might not pardon me for this.

Maybe Aric won’t remember what happened. There’s a pool cue in his eye, that’s got to leave some lasting damage. His brain will be so scrambled he won’t ever be able to accuse me. No one will find out I screwed up yet again.

A girl can dream.

‘We have to leave,’ I tell the others. ‘Don’t tell anyone you saw me here. Don’t tell anyone you were here.’

They nod. Like they’d dare do anything else. Harper’s friends are staring at me like I’m a demon myself. Maybe I am.

But then a voice sounds from the doorway, and any hope of covering this up drains away.

‘Well, well, well,’ the familiar tone says, ‘haven’t you all been busy?’