Page 21 of A Match Made in Hell
‘So, Tartarus and Elysium are basically Heaven and Hell,’ I say. ‘Why not call them that?’ Elysium is quite the mouthful if you ask me.
He shrugs. ‘They were named long before those terms were coined on Earth. Why ruin a tradition?’
‘Named by who?’
He blinks as though he’s been shaken awake, and then his face turns to stone. He stands, towering over me. ‘That’s enough questions for today.’
‘But –’
He waves a hand and the door sweeps open, handle banging into the wall. ‘Go. I’ll find you when it’s time.’
I stare at him, grinding my teeth and wondering if I dare argue, but black smoke whirls around him, reminding me that he has all the power here. I’m a bug he can squash whenever he likes. He could wake tomorrow and decide he doesn’t need me to do these tasks at all, and punish me for even asking.
‘Fine.’ I drop into a mock bow. ‘I await your command, Your Majesty.’
Flames threaten to shoot from his eyes, so I hurry from the room before one hits me. With some trepidation, I head back into the entrance chamber and down the golden corridor,further into the depths of Asphodel than I’ve gone before.
Rather than light at the end of the tunnel, there’s darkness. The corridor opens on to a balcony overlooking a vast underground chasm that reeks of sulphur. I grip the railing, feeling like I’m one misstep from falling into the abyss. The balcony stretches to the side in both directions, encompassing a curved cliff face embedded with lights – no,windows. Silhouettes move from one to the other. Laughter and shouts echo through the still air as though there are people out here somewhere, but I can’t see anyone close by.
Above me is another balcony. And another. And another. The cliff extends upwards with no end in sight; a skyscraper with no sky to scrape. It disappears into a swirling black mist instead. Dark objects glide up and down the walls like worker ants. Opposite, lava streams down slick black rock.
The low thump of bass music reverberates from somewhere below, and I lean over the railing to peer into the sheer drop. My stomach swoops. The cliff spreads downwards, again too far for me to see the bottom. Perhaps there is no bottom. Just an endless, eternal city of the dead stretching on forever.
Between my palms, the railing rattles. I jerk back, just in time for one of the black objects to swoosh past, not clinging to the building at all, but flying close by in a rush of putrid hot air that blasts my face and blows back my hair, like it’s powered by nothing but magic and smoke. I’m shaking when I look over the railing again. It’s stopped a few levels below, and several figures jump out on to the balcony, their chatter indecipherable, and then the lift takes flight again, dropping lower. The figures vanish somewhere within before I’ve worked up the nerve to shout for assistance.
I look around. Maybe I need to call one of these things to take me to one of the rooms Sathanas mentioned. It would be nice if someone left a set of instructions or, better yet, a map.They could at least put a sign on the wall:Dismemberment Level Four,Demon-Viewing Platform Level Ninety-Nine,A Good Night’s Sleep on Three.
Maybe I’ll suggest it to Sathanas. I’m sure there’s nothing he’d love more than decoration advice.
For lack of better ideas, I start walking. If I can’t go up or down, maybe I need to try and goin. A tall iron door sits not too far along the cliff, but before I have a chance to touch the handle it’s yanked open from the other side and a girl flies out, nearly barrelling into me. Her bleached-blonde hair is tied into space buns, the ends of which are dyed the same bubblegum pink as her lipstick and fluffy jumper. She studies me, then beams.
‘Oh.’ She bounces on her feet. ‘You must be new.’
I glance at my ruined dress. ‘What gave me away?’
‘Don’t worry, you’ll find new clothes in your room. Try down there.’ She jerks her head towards the dark tunnel she’s just come from. ‘One will open for you, when it’s ready.’
‘Right.’ I blink. It makes as much sense as everything else in this place.
‘I’m Harper, by the way,’ she adds. ‘I’ve been here for a while.’ She says it like it’s something to be proud of.
‘Willow.’
She radiates so much energy I feel like a planet being dragged into a sun’s orbit, so I immediately take a step back to lessen her gravitational pull. Making friends is pointless when I plan to get out as soon as possible.
And besides, she’s wearing too much pink. It clashes with my hair.
‘Once you’re settled, you should join us in Dionysus,’ she goes on. ‘It’s like a . . . volcano turned nightclub. Parties every night. Everybody goes.’
Her enthusiasm yanks on my stomach. I want to. I want to so badly. To escape, to pretend none of this is happening. Butagreeing to party with a bunch of dead people would definitely be on Mum’s list of Things Willow Shouldn’t Do, and my desperate desire to escape was what got me in this mess to start with. ‘Maybe another time.’
‘Of course.’ Her smile wavers, turning sad, a little sympathetic. She wouldn’t feel that way if she knew what happened to Sasha. I’m doing her a favour. A few days with me and I’d probably send her to the Void by accident. ‘But being dead doesn’t mean you have to stop living.’
Being here must have addled her mind. That is the definition of being dead.
‘Right. Well.’ I step towards the threshold of a nearby tunnel. ‘I should go. Thanks for pointing me the right way.’
‘If you change your mind, come back to this ledge and think about visiting floor minus-two-nine-nine. A lift will appear.’
