Page 45 of A Match Made in Hell

It’s the Sorter. I’ve never seen her smile before, or at least not like this, all gleaming white teeth and dimpled cheeks. She looks positively giddy.

Sath takes a step between us, shielding me, but she doesn’t cower in fear the way she should. His flames don’t appear. I can’t feel his heat the way I usually can; there’s nothing emanating from him, apart from, perhaps, mild panic.

‘What are you doing?’ he asks.

‘What does it look like I’m doing?’ She struts into the room and instinct has me clutching the heart tighter.

Something that feels suspiciously like a tendril pummels my stomach, trying to latch on to me.

The impact is sharp as a knife and heavy as a gut punch.

I let out an audible gasp; Sath wheels towards me, while the Sorter’s eyes widen.

‘Careful,’ she sings. ‘You don’t want that heart, Willow White.’ She looks at Sath and smirks. ‘And you can’t take it back once removed. Which leaves me.’

Think think think , I urge my mind to catch up, to focus on what’s happening.

‘Why don’t I want it?’ I ask slowly.

All Sath does is nod his head towards the heart, and then my chest. Take it .

‘Do you want to tell her what it does, or shall I?’ The Sorter’s playing with him now.

His jaw tenses. ‘How long have you been planning this?’

‘Since the day she walked into my morgue,’ she says in a sing-song voice.

‘We’ve been waiting for a ruler to fail for eons but they always cling on.

Even you, for all your moping, were too strong.

Every time I thought you’d given up, you managed to persevere.

It was infuriating. Something needed to be done.

I needed someone weaker. Then she appeared, and I knew, I just knew she would break long before she had time to find herself a replacement. ’

‘Stop talking in riddles,’ I snap.

I’m tempted to start throwing things; maybe dodging projectiles will get them to speak plainly. My cheeks heat. I’m burning more than Sath ever did. The Sorter takes it all in, smile growing.

‘Oh, she really is angry, isn’t she, Sathanas?’ the Sorter says. ‘I sensed it as soon as I met her. Even if she refuses to give me the heart today, it won’t matter. Wrath will consume her much faster than sloth has been consuming you.’

‘I thought I told you to get out,’ Sath growls.

‘No,’ I say. ‘I think she’s the only one being honest here. What does the heart do?’

Sath rubs a hand over his face. ‘Willow, I . . .’ His voice splinters. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Sorry for what ?’ Frustration has me crushing the organ like a stress ball. We’ll see how much the Sorter wants it when it’s bleeding all over the floor. As my grip tightens, that rumbling returns. Louder.

Sath’s eyes widen, lunging for my hands, trying to unclasp my fingers before I can do any damage. The Sorter grins.

It’s her face that makes me stop. Anything that makes her happy is probably something I don’t want to do.

‘Why don’t you hand it over to me?’ she says. ‘It all ends the same. This way’s simply faster.’

‘No.’ Sath looks at me pleadingly. ‘Put it in your chest. It’s the only way.’

I don’t trust either of them right now. My breathing turns rapid as I hold the heart to my chest, leaving it hovering centimetres from my T-shirt.

‘It’s futile, Sath,’ the Sorter says. ‘The final task already proved she won’t cope. You may as well save us some time.’

‘What do the tasks have to do with anything?’ I ask.

‘The tasks . . .’ Sath’s gone pale, like all the energy’s been drained from him.

And his eyes . . . I hadn’t noticed, but they’ve lost their glow.

Not in the I’m-not-using-my-powers-right-now sense.

They’re dimmer, dark brown, with no hint of gold at all.

‘They weren’t to determine if you were worthy of leaving.

They were to see if you’d be strong enough for the heart.

Because . . .’ His throat bobs. ‘Whoever holds the heart controls the gates. You can’t let her have it. She’ll unleash Tartarus.’

My mind is stuck on the first part of his sentence. I stare at him blankly. My brain has no thoughts. Not one. I stare, and stare, and stare. The Sorter huffs at my existential crisis, but she can, quite frankly, fuck off. Slowly, I say, ‘The tasks weren’t about me leaving.’

‘You’re dead,’ the Sorter says, extremely unhelpfully. ‘You were never leaving. But for a human, escaping Asphodel is a much better offer than ruling. How do you think Sath got roped into it?’

Sath won’t meet my gaze. He tricked me. All to give me his job . I stare at the heart in my hand. I’d be Queen of Asphodel. I’d control the gates.

I could hurt the Sorter. The demons. But –

‘I didn’t pass though.’ I’m almost slurring, struggling to form words, thoughts.

‘The tasks are supposed to prove your ability to resist sin. It would be far too risky to hand this much power over to someone with no restraint. To someone unworthy. But they’re not a requirement. The current ruler can pass the heart to anyone he or she chooses,’ Sath says.

‘And you chose me. I’m honoured.’ My words are monotone. I wait for an emotion to come – anger seems like a good bet – but there’s nothing. I’m too shell-shocked. One word rattles round my skull: liar, liar, liar .

There’d been a moment, right after failing wrath, where I’d been happier than I’d ever been. Daydreaming of a future I never thought possible: travelling Asphodel with my friends, Harper, him .

A future that could never have existed, because he’d been planning this all along.

Not a single word he’s ever told me has been the truth. Not a single one.

Liar, liar, liar.

‘Listen.’ Sath steps in front of me, blocking my view of the Sorter, although there’s another loud sigh from behind him. ‘We can talk later. Please, Willow. The only way to keep the gates closed is for someone capable of resisting sin to take the heart. It can’t be her.’

He should have taken one look at me and realised it couldn’t be me either. I’m way too much of a mess to be left responsible for an entire Hell dimension. I’ve proven I can’t resist sin.

‘Then you take it.’ I try to shove it at him. ‘I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this.’

An image of me sat on the snake throne flashes across my mind, but I toss it aside. I might have chosen Asphodel over Earth but that doesn’t mean I want to rule. I don’t want this. I don’t.

‘He can’t,’ the Sorter chimes in. ‘And I’m bored. Hand it over now, and we’ll be spared the tediousness of watching you fall apart. The gates are opening, one way or another. Give me the heart and it’ll be over quickly.’

I’m getting a little tired of people telling me what to do.

More than that, I’m getting very tired of people’s low expectations of me. The Sorter has no idea who I am or what I can do. She saw what was on my clipboard and believed the same thing as Mum: that I’m a failure who can’t do anything, who gives up at the first hurdle.

But I’ve proven I’m not now. I jumped six hurdles and knocked over the seventh because I chose to. I fail when I’m trying to be something I’m not, but when I’m me, I can succeed.

Right now, what I am is angry.

I nudge Sath to one side – I’ll deal with him later – in order to give her the full force of my best glare.

She manipulated me as much as Sath did. Pretended to let slip there was a way out, when she was hoping all along Sath would suggest I do the tasks.

Made me doubt anyone here would want me when she was worried I was about to change my mind.

‘I’m going to kill you,’ I tell her.

She tuts. ‘You can try. But without the heart, Sath has no power. He can’t protect you.’

I don’t need Sath’s protection. I have something better.

The heart pulses like it’s sensed what I’m about to do. I hold on to my anger, my fury at being put in this position, letting it override the terror simmering underneath.

I have no idea what’s going to happen when I do this. All I know is I can’t let her win. I have to keep the gates closed.

I killed Aric to protect Harper and the others. I’ll do this for them too. For me, even, because this is my home now, and I won’t let the demons overrun it.

‘Tick-tock, Willow.’ The Sorter moves closer. ‘You know you can’t do this.’

‘What I know,’ I tell her, ‘is that I failed wrath on purpose. I’m not as weak as you think I am. And I’m sick of people telling me otherwise.’

Her eyes flare when she comprehends what I’m saying, and then she’s lunging for me, lightning-fast –

I slam the heart straight into my chest.