Page 20 of The Road to Hell

I glanced at Lily, blazing like a star. She stood at the center of it all, her flames shining brighter and hotter, the sheer force of her power keeping the fallen at bay. Gremory and the others circled warily, their previous fury now tempered with hesitation and something that looked dangerously close to fear.

“Lily!” I shouted, but if she heard me, she didn’t react. Her focus was unshakable, her entire being locked on the gate as she poured everything into holding it open.

I reached the edge of the gate and hesitated, just for a heartbeat, my gaze snapping back to Lily. Her flames roared higher, defying the darkness, and her expression was fierce. She glanced at me, just for an instant.

“Go!” she screamed again, the power in her voice as commanding as any order I’d ever given.

I dove through the vortex. The last time I’d traversed this portal, the gate had nearly torn me apart before spitting me out on the other side. This time, it was silent. No pain. No screaming. No violent power ripping at me. Just the strange disorientation of being transported to another realm—then a jolt of impact as my knees hit scorched, cracked ground.

I dropped our many bags beside me, and Vol scrambled out of his satchel, his tiny form immediately puffing up with indignation. Eliza stood with her back to us, her daggers still drawn and stance defensive as she scanned the terrain for any danger.

I stood just as a blinding flash erupted behind us. I pivoted and watched as Lily came barrelling through the gate like a comet, her fire flaring in a final, defiant burst as she landed in a heap beside us. The portal snapped shut with a deafening roar, the energy dissipating into a heavy, suffocating silence.

A slow breath slipped past my lips as I reached down and helped her to her feet. Relief shone in her eyes. We’d survived—for now.

After a moment’s pause, Lily straightened, her chest rising and falling with each labored breath. She faced the gate, her brows furrowed in concentration.

“It’s locked,” she said at last. “They can’t follow us. At least, not right now.”

The weight on my shoulders eased, and I allowed myself a moment to catch my breath.I brushed the ash and dirt off my coat, then turned and took in the familiar—and all too unpleasantly suffocating—landscape. Nothing but a desolate expanse of rugged rock, swirling smoke, and rivers of molten fire cutting through the doom.

Before anyone could speak about all that had just happened, Vol strutted forward, his tiny frame cutting a defiant silhouette against the smoldering landscape. He stopped a few paces ahead, planted his hands on his hips, and surveyed the ash-choked horizon.

“Welcome to Hell,” he declared, his voice dripping with mock grandeur.

ChapterSix

LILY

“What. Is.That?” Eliza demanded, studying my impish friend with her daggers in hand. “Is that a hellspawn?”

Vol stood atop a charred rock, his stubby arms crossed and a deeply unimpressed expression plastered across his tiny, toothy face. “Excuse you,” he said, his tone dripping with disappointment. “I’ll have you know I’m a distinguished imp of impeccable character. Not a ‘that.’”

Eliza’s daggers didn’t waver. “It talks? Why does it talk? And why does it look like it crawled out of Satan’s dirty laundry basket?”

Vol gasped, clutching his chest theatrically. “Satan’s dirty laundry basket? Rude. I bathe weekly. Bi-weekly at worst.”

“Eliza, put the knives down,” I said, already unzipping my jacket. “He’s with us.”

Her gaze snapped to me. “He is?”

“Yes,” I replied, digging through my pack. Hell’s suffocating heat had already seeped under my skin, each breath like sucking air through a furnace. Fleece-lined, downy jackets and thermal boots were essential in Alberta. But here? Here they were liabilities. Theoretically, Hell’s climate wouldn’t kill me—a perk of being a celestial—but that didn’t mean I had to be miserable. And sweating through every inch of clothing was high on my list of miseries.

Sweating was more of a discomfort for me, as was dehydration, so I preferred to avoid both if possible. And seeing as how this realm didn’t come with corner stores stocked with water bottles, it was time for a wardrobe change.

I’d just shrugged off my jacket and tossed it aside when Rathiel strode over and asked under his breath, “What happened back there? At the gate?”

I froze for a heartbeat. I’d been asking the same thing since I shoved my hand through the portal and lit up the night like Canada Day.

“I’m not sure,” I admitted as I peeled off my heavy, sweat-dampened shirt, revealing the black tank top I’d worn as my base layer. The lightweight fabric clung to my skin, offering just enough relief without feeling restrictive. But as the heated air hit my bare shoulders, unease and discomfort crept up my spine. I hadn’t worn anything this revealing in years. Not since I’d discovered the scars. They were a map of my greatest failure, etched in raw, uneven lines that even time hadn’t been able to smooth over.

But Hell didn’t care about my discomfort. Tank tops were a necessity, not a choice. The heat would eat me alive otherwise.

“Have you ever done anything like that before?” Rathiel asked, stepping closer.

I shook my head.

“Did it hurt you?” he pressed. “Whenever I’ve opened the gate, it’s drained me, but you seem perfectly fine.”

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