Page 54 of A Match Made in Hell

We locate demons lurking on every floor.

With every one we find, flames ripple from me, burning bigger and brighter.

But not out of control – never that. I’ve resisted the sins before, and I’ll resist them now.

Even wrath. I forge ropes for the humans to use, and they tie the demons up like puppets, marching them into lifts.

Harper is among their captors – I found her hiding in her favourite paintball lookout – and now she’s at my side, poking a demon in the side with his own tail.

The demons flail and snap their teeth, clawing at their bindings. With four humans for every monster they don’t get far, especially when those bindings are made from the flames of Tartarus themselves, singeing their talons when they try to cut through.

Our congregation swells in number until finally we cram into the entrance chamber, ready to drag the demons to the gates. For those we’ve missed – including her – I’ll have to hope the vortex sweeps them up before I lose control. Nerves tug at me harder than the demons pull at their restraints.

Given the size of this place – we barely covered a hundred floors before the chamber was stuffed full – the vortex is going to be open for a while .

But Sath’s fingers are brushing my arm, and Harper is on my other side, her whole being vibrating with energy and hope. If they believe this is possible, I choose to believe the same. I nod at Sath to open the doors.

The tunnel swings into view just as a familiar voice calls out behind us, ‘You’re making a mistake.’

Look who decided to show up. The Sorter shoves her way to the front of the group, nearby demons bowing their heads at the sight of her.

I don’t see anything worth revering. She may have avoided capture, but she’s sweaty and dishevelled, gaze darting around the room in what I would delightedly describe as blind panic .

‘There’s no one here who can help you now,’ I tell her. ‘You’ve lost.’

Her red eyes lock on mine, and her mouth twists into an attempt at a smirk. ‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that. I told you, you’re making a mistake. Opening those gates is the last thing you want to do if you’re trying to save Asphodel.’

‘If you think this is such a bad idea, shouldn’t you be encouraging it?’

She doesn’t have an answer. Her silence feels almost as good as Sath’s faith, because with it comes a sense of glorious smugness that, unlike Sath, she didn’t believe in me up until this moment.

She tricked me into taking the tasks because she thought I’d fall apart faster than Sath, or be stupid enough to manipulate into handing over the heart at the final hour.

She thought I was weak, worthless, and now I get to show her how wrong she was.

A sword materialises in my hand.

Her throat bobs. ‘You’re forgetting you need me.’

‘Do I?’ I raise a brow. ‘Or did you become the Sorter to make yourself feel important, Amara ?’

She flinches at the use of her old name.

‘You thought you were too special to be an ordinary demon so you had to invent a role for yourself. It’s pathetic, really.

You’re only happy when you have power over others, but what does that say about you , that your self-worth is so tied up in making other people feel awful?

’ I bring the blade to her neck and she tries to take a step back, only there’s nowhere to go, a crowd of humans forming a barricade behind her. ‘But do you know what . . . ?’

The sword disappears in a waft of shadow, and her eyes widen.

‘. . . You’re not special.’ I lean forward until we’re nose to nose. ‘You’re not different. You don’t deserve a dramatic ending for the history books. You are no better or worse than any other demon in this room, and you’re going back to Tartarus the same way as the rest of them.’

I conjure another flaming whip and hand it to Sath, who immediately takes charge of binding the Sorter.

She shouts and curses, but I tune her out, leading the procession into the bowels of Asphodel where the gates reside.

The skull-socket candles lining the corridors watch me as I pass, like they too are curious as to whether this will work, or whether I’m about to engage in the worst form of self-sabotage ever seen.

The gates are the most silent I’ve seen them. This is encouraging, I guess, and means I’m holding together better than Sath was, at the end. The metal is cool to the touch, but in the back of my mind, something rumbles, for the first time since I reconnected with Sath.

They’re waiting on the other side. With clubs and swords and spears. Beneath their feet a wind is stirring, red dust spraying over the vast, deserted ground surrounding them.

I compel it to stir faster.

‘How do I get these open?’ I ask Sath. There’s no door handle, although some of the carved demon faces have exceptionally long horns. I’m tempted to give one a pull.

‘The sins. You’ll need to give in, just for a moment.’ Sath takes my hand, his fingers trailing over mine like he wants to memorise the shape of them. ‘Willow –’

‘No goodbyes. We’re going to be fine.’ Reluctantly, I add, ‘But if we’re not, don’t forget what I said to you. Get yourself out.’

‘I’ve told you, I’m not leaving you.’ His hand grips tighter. ‘Remember, once the gates are open, you need to regain control immediately. There has to be a divide. Nothing bad will happen if you keep the divide.’

I nod, letting go of his hand. Happiness is the last thing I need if I want to get these gates open. Closing my eyes, I focus on the demons on the other side. On the rumbles of discontent. On how badly they want to rip, and tear, and kill.

On how they want to destroy everything good and pure, to turn dreams into nightmares, to force the humans into subservience the same way the Sorter did, the same way my mother did.

And, just like how the Sorter enjoyed analysing our clipboards, Mum enjoyed reminding me of my mistakes, over and over, because if she wasn’t the most powerful person in a room she might have been forced to look at herself for a change and realise she wasn’t special either.

Flames erupt down my arms.

She belittled me to the point I felt worthless. She screamed at me until Dad walked out. She forced me into a relationship that had me questioning every little thing I did. I wasted so much time destroying myself and for what ?

The doors rattle. Hinges pop.

I wouldn’t have quit that course if she hadn’t made me take it in the first place. I wouldn’t have been on that cliff if I hadn’t surrounded myself with people who didn’t care. She is the reason I’m dead.

I blamed myself and berated myself, but the only person who should feel guilty here is her.

A loud whistling, shrieking sounds, like a kettle that won’t stop boiling and now it’s going to explode. Sweat slides down my face. I spent years trying to make myself small, but now I’m a suppressed jack-in-the-box finally sprung free, unleashing myself on the world.

Unleashing my wrath on the world.

The ground beneath my feet shakes. Heat blasts my face.

The gates swing open.

Yes, yes, yes , the demons in my head shout with jubilation. I gasp, opening my eyes and reaching for Sath or Harper or anyone . Wrath rages in my veins, demanding I let those celebrating demons through to cause the kind of carnage they’re begging me for.

Nobody takes my hand.

Nobody notices me at all. Their focus is what’s on the other side of the gates. I catch a glimpse of barren tundra, a flash of an extremely large snake with yellow eyes, and then the whole image is swallowed up by a great tidal wave of blood.

Keep the divide.

This was a mistake. I stare, frozen, as that red sea rushes towards us, and I can’t do anything, I can’t stop it, there’s so much of it, there’s no divide to keep because I don’t know where I start and the gates end –

The blood surges forward, crashing straight through the opening, and I’m swept away in a great, gushing river of crimson.