Page 46 of A Match Made in Hell

Pain.

The tendrils I’d felt against my stomach latch on, harder than before, and there’s so many of them now, every one like an arrow piercing skin, then deeper, burrowing into me until they latch around my real heart and take hold.

My eyes stream, salt filling my mouth, my nose.

I want it to stop. My heart races with panic and fear and not understanding what this thing invading it is.

I think I’d prefer an alien abduction to this.

Heat sears through me as the two hearts fuse, vines entwining my arteries, and I need it to stop, but it won’t, it won’t, it won’t.

A high-pitched whining noise escapes my throat, because the pain is never-ending, and now the heart is fully inside I can feel darkness spreading, power flaring; black flames erupt from my arms, blowing back my hair.

The Sorter is crawling, crawling towards the exit; with a flick of my hand the door slams shut and the key twists.

I pant.

The pain is subsiding now; Sath survived this, and I’m going to survive it too, but I don’t feel right, I don’t feel like me .

Everything tingles and thrums and I – I can sense the gates.

They’re there, in my mind, a steady hum, black shadows of darkness tainted by sin.

Behind them, demons roam. Pacing. Waiting for escape.

They’ve caused pain for aeons, those demons. They wade in a sea of blood. It’s up to their knees, but they don’t care, they still want more. It’ll never be enough. They lick their lips, hungry for what Asphodel has to offer. I salivate, wanting it too. I want to take, and have, and destroy.

‘Willow.’ Sath’s voice jerks me into focus.

I blink. Everything goes quiet. It’s just me, with two liars who tried to screw me over.

And I’m the one with the power now.

‘I’d bow to your queen if I were you.’ My voice isn’t right either. It’s deeper, more even. I glance into the mirror behind the bar. My hair is the same flaming red as always, but that red is now reflected in my eyes, glowing through the green.

Oh, God. It looks like someone threw up Christmas inside my irises.

This only serves to enrage me further, especially when neither of them moves. True, the Sorter is already on the floor, although flailing around on all fours isn’t what I’d call a bow.

‘Bow,’ I say again.

Sath does. He drops to his knees, gazing up at me, black hair falling into those oh-so-normal eyes.

Laughter lines crinkle around the corners, and the glow has faded from his skin.

Something twists in my chest at the sight of him but I’ve no way to determine if the ache is genuine.

Whether it’s my heart remembering how it used to feel – maybe still feels – or whether it’s his , recognising its old master.

The Sorter hasn’t moved. I stride towards her, feeling for the power inside me, wondering the best way to make it hurt. ‘ Bow .’

I stare her down. Despite my door-slamming trick, I’m not sure how to use this magic I’ve been gifted. Finally, the threat of it sinks deep enough, and she shifts into a kneeling position. I stare at them both. Traitors. I want them gone. The Sorter first; I can deal with her later.

Sath, on the other hand, has a lot of questions to answer.

‘I want a demon in here,’ I say. ‘Now.’

I’m asking Sath the best way to go about summoning one – they come running easily enough for him – but saying the words is, apparently, enough. A demon with sapphire scales covering its arms arrives and then stares at me. At Sath. Back at me.

‘Hello,’ I say. ‘I’m in charge now.’ It sounds ridiculous to my ears, but the demon, to my great astonishment, lowers its horned head like it can sense the foul thing inside me and is bound to follow its orders. ‘Take the Sorter to the . . . ice place.’

‘Glacantrum,’ Sath mutters. Fuck’s sake. I refuse to need his help with this.

‘Glacantrum,’ I repeat, like I’d known all along. ‘And then, I don’t know, maybe torture her a bit.’

Sath says something under his breath, something that sounds like Willow , followed by a huff. I’m not sure what he expects from me. I’m play-acting in a role he cast me for without seeing an audition.

‘You can’t send me there,’ the Sorter says. ‘I’m the Sorter. I have a job to do.’

‘Do I look like I give a fuck who goes where?’

‘You will when there’s a bottleneck of people at the boats. Everything will come crashing down.’

Sath opens his mouth to speak – probably some fresh platitude I don’t want to hear – but I silence him with a wave of my hand.

‘Fine,’ I say, through gritted teeth. ‘Take her to the mortuary, and keep her there. I want her locked up, under armed guard, all day every day. She sorts and does nothing else. If you, or anyone, speaks to her, I’ll rip off your heads. Understood?’

The demon nods. The Sorter stands without resistance, glowering at me with a seething hatred that I return tenfold. I’ll get her out of that morgue soon enough. Someone might need to sort, but it doesn’t need to be her.

They exit, and the room goes silent, leaving me and Sath alone. He’s still on his knees. My chest heaves. The gates tremble.

‘Get up,’ I snap.

He does, slowly, looking me up and down. I wonder what he sees. Wonder if he ever liked what he saw, or if it was all an act to get me to complete the tasks. ‘You lied to me.’

‘I didn’t have a choice,’ he says. ‘I once told you that in order to keep the divide between Asphodel and Tartarus, the ruler has to be . . . good. That wasn’t the whole truth.’

‘I’m stunned.’

Sath ignores me. ‘The divide is kept so long as the ruler can resist sin. And I can’t. Do you remember what I said, when we talked about sloth?’

I rack my brains. ‘That it was a vice of yours. Something about . . . dereliction of duty.’

He nods. ‘My duty here was to protect the humans. Every time I pandered to the demons, I failed in that duty. I punished humans who didn’t deserve it.

And the weight of that failure, that sin, it was overwhelming me.

Eventually, the gates would crack open. I had to find a replacement. I didn’t have a choice.’

‘It didn’t have to be me .’

Sath eyes the fire rippling down my arms, and swallows. ‘You need to control your anger.’

‘I can’t .’ Glass bottles smash behind the bar. I’m too hot, smoke pouring from me, thick and grey and smelling like charred embers. I want to set the whole room on fire. I want to set him on fire. ‘You lied to me. This whole time. You said I was going home.’

‘Even if that was true, you forfeited that option when you killed Aric,’ he reminds me.

It’s about the worst possible thing he can say.

I’d chosen to stay when I thought I’d be able to dictate my own future.

Instead he’s made the choice for me just like everyone else in my life, telling me who I can and can’t be.

I don’t want to rule Asphodel. I don’t want this responsibility. I’m not cut out for this.

More flames spark from my arms. My eyeballs are burning; I doubt there’s any green left in them now. And the gates, they’re shaking, shaking like I am. The demons wait behind the doors, snarling and growling, knowing it won’t be long now.

‘Willow.’ Sath grabs my arm, tugging me towards him. With his other hand, he cups my chin. ‘You have to think of something else. Anything to distract yourself from wrath.’

There’s nothing. All I know is rage.

‘Please.’ He dips his head so we’re eye level. I blink, taking him in. His breath ghosts my mouth, colder than I’ve ever felt it. His fingers, too, are like ice. Every touch is like sinking into a cold bath on a summer’s day.

I inhale. Exhale. Again. My fire dies, and I swallow, feeling more like myself. ‘How could you do this to me?’

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers. ‘By the time I realised I was –’ He breaks off, gaze flicking to the floor, then back to me.

‘When we grew closer, I wanted to tell you the truth, but I knew I’d lose you.

You’d hate me for lying, and I’d be no closer to solving the situation with the gates.

Tartarus would be unleashed. The humans would be tortured for eternity, or they’d end up in the Void, and the thought of you, of all people, going to that place, of you not existing . . . I couldn’t bear it.’

‘Don’t pretend you did it for me.’ My chin wobbles. ‘You are not the good guy here.’

‘I never said I was the good guy. I told you when we first met, I am not nice.’ His eyes glisten. ‘I used to be. I want to be.’

‘The only thing you are is selfish,’ I snap. ‘You used me to solve your own problems without once thinking how I’d feel about it. You lied to me for as long as possible so you could, what, enjoy my company while it lasted?’

‘If I’d wanted to enjoy you, Willow, we both know I could have.’

I hiss at the implication. Good to know the one emotion stronger than anger is sheer, undiluted mortification.

‘Nothing about this has been enjoyable, trust me. Nothing about the last two damn centuries has been enjoyable .’

It’s the first time I’ve heard him raise his voice. There’s no quiet threat of seduction and death, just years of raw frustration and pent-up rage finally unleashed.

‘I wanted to keep away. I should have. You’re right, I am selfish.

I couldn’t resist being around you despite knowing it would only end one way.

’ Sath releases me and steps away. Tears stream down my face as he continues, ‘Be angry with me. I deserve it. But don’t pretend there isn’t a part of you that doesn’t want this.

The power, the attention, the ability to smite anyone who pisses you off.

I saw into your soul and discerned all those things.

You have the power now to see into mine.

’ He gives me a sad smile. ‘Finally, no secrets between us.’

It would be great if he had the decency to give me a lesson in these new-found powers of mine. All I seem capable of doing is catching alight, not seeing into people’s souls.

But then I look at him. Properly. A shimmering white light surrounds him, and then it goes deeper, into his heart – one heart now, his own, pure and untainted by whatever the thing is inside me.

I see his desperation to be good, and the fear that he’s not.

I see glimpses of his past: a woman, smiling at him from across the pillow, a dog running through a field, a boat bobbing along a calm sea.

I see he was a vegetarian, which makes me snort, because now he’s made to butcher people for a living. I don’t blame him for wanting out.

I do blame him for not telling me.

The different parts of me war over what to do.

But then I remember every smile we shared, every touch, and how it was all built on a lie.

He made me feel things I’m not sure I’ve ever felt for anyone, not even Noah, and now I’ve no idea how much of it was real.

I hate how badly I want it to be real, even after what he’s done.

His betrayal is an open wound, fresh and raw and gaping; I pick at all the things he’s ever said to me like I’m pulling at flayed skin. Every word he says is laced with lies. I can’t look at him. I can’t forgive him. I can’t be around him.

What I can do, though, is make sure he hurts as much as I do.

‘So, when you talked about getting your concession, you meant getting an easy life?’ I inject as much venom as I can into the words.

‘Where the gates are someone else’s problem; my problem?

Well, I say you don’t. You don’t get your happy ending.

Not when I don’t have mine.’ I summon another demon, turn my face to stone, and say, ‘Take him to Glacantrum. Let him freeze.’