Page 32 of A Match Made in Hell
‘Ow!’ I’m about to push him off when he stops me with a look.
‘Sorry,’ he says, still probing the bite mark. ‘They have toxins in their saliva. Their poison can’t kill you, but –’
His nail presses harder into the wound, and I nearly bite my tongue to stop from screaming, clutching a handful of his jumper. My vision blurs, and I go hot and cold all at once. The next thing I know, Sath’s hand is off my arm and on my hip instead, palm splayed over the waistband of my jeans to stop me falling.
‘Ouch,’ I say.
When he’s sure I’m not about to keel over, Sath holds up a finger. At first, I think he’s trying to show me my own blood, and I’m about to tell him I have no interest in beholding such a thing, when I spot a speck of acid green glistening amid the crimson. Sath offers me a satisfied smile. ‘All gone.’
I take my hand off his stomach. He can bleed out for all I care. ‘You couldn’t have tried being gentle?’
His smile is positively feline. ‘Thatwasme being gentle.’
When I leave this place, I’m buying him a dictionary. Huffing, I stare at the corpses littering the floor. ‘You said no demons come down here. And why do they look so . . . different?’
‘All demons used to look like humans, once. The more time spent in Tartarus giving in to their basest urges, the more beastly they became.’ He bends to inspect one. ‘I’ve not seen these before. They’ve arrived recently.’
‘From Tartarus? But . . . how . . . ?’
‘It’s a good question.’ Sath straightens, brushing dust from his trousers – as though that’s the problem with how he looks, and not the bloodstains. He glances at me. ‘There’s something I want to show you. First, though, I need to burn the bodies. Helpme pile them up, would you?’
It’s unclear why we can’t leave them here to rot, but I retrieve the one I killed in the corridor with only a small amount of whinging, while Sath manages the other four.
‘Demons can’t die in Asphodel,’ he tells me as he sets the bodies alight. ‘Their wounds will stitch together and return them to life. Only the flames of Tartarus can truly destroy a demon and send it back whence it came.’
I watch as those flames get bigger and bigger, engulfing the bats. Grey smoke fills the room, its stench acrid and decaying, and I retch, retreating to the doorway. ‘Gross.’
It does make me wonder though. Sath claimed he had to punish the man in Dionysus to keep the demons happy, despite the fact he’s clearly capable of punishing the demons instead. ‘Why don’t you –’
‘I can’t.’ The flames have died now, but Sath remains motionless, staring at the mound of ash left behind.
I fold my arms. ‘You don’t know what I was going to say.’
‘You were going to ask why I haven’t killed them all, weren’t you?’ he murmurs, sounding almost like he’s in a trance. ‘There’s too many. Using that much power would destroy me, and then there’d be no one to stop them from –’ He sighs. ‘This is the part where it’s easier if I show you.’
He leads me out of the cave and to the spot we originally portalled in to.
‘I’ll give you fair warning this time,’ Sath says, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. ‘Try not to get travel-sick.’
I’m so pleased he finds my legitimate problem amusing. I glare at him, which only makes the dimple in his cheek grow, but there’s something about that dimple that has me reaching for his hand, almost on instinct. This time, we’re not just palm to palm. Our fingers interlace, locking together as he tugs me closer than before. I wrap my other hand around his waist and squeeze.
I do feel sick when we land, but not because of the motion.
My feet are planted directly in front of a large set of gates. They’re bronze, and tall, three times Sath’s height, and the iron is wrought into figures of demons, snakes, dragons . . . and screaming human faces. Heat blazes from the metal. I half expect Sath to open the doors and reveal the sun itself.
I take a step back, shielding my face, sweat dripping down my forehead. The sweat is nothing in comparison to what my heart is doing. My whole chest feels tight, constricted, and it can’t beat fast enough, hard enough, reminding me that I’m here, I’m here, and I may not be alive, but I’m still something, because I have every confidence if those doors are opened I won’t be anything any more.
I don’t need Sath to tell me what they are. Where they lead. I already know.
These are the real gates of Hell. The way into Tartarus.
12
The doors thud, like something’s headbutted them. Hard. Despite how thick the metal appears, it rattles vigorously, and smoke bursts from the cracks around the hinges.
These doors do not, in any way, look stable.
‘Why have you brought me here?’
