Page 46 of A Match Made in Hell
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I do not feel good about Scrabble. I am terrible at Scrabble. And yet somehow, we end up playing it all night. Sath wasn’t joking about spending a year learning the dictionary, because he trounces me every time with ridiculous words likecallipygian. I don’t know what it means, but he laughs every time I ask, so I can only assume he’s cheating. By the time I’ve persuaded him to magic over some other options from the games room, I’m too tired to play, my eyes closing and my elbow slipping from the arm of the sofa.
‘You should get some rest.’ Sath scoops up his tiles and deposits them in the drawstring pouch.
I stretch. Ishouldsleep, he’s right, but I can’t bring myself to leave. My room is cold and far away, whereas this sofa is right here, along with Sath, who’s – as always – emitting as much heat as a small furnace. Besides, this is the first night since I arrived where I’ve been able to forget where, exactly, I am. It’s easy to pretend there are no demons lurking outside when I’m not caught up in my own thoughts, staring at the ceiling of my room, terrified to fall asleep in case I have another nightmare. Time is finally moving at a sensible pace, and I want to keep that momentum until the next task.
‘Okay,’ I say eventually, hoping my disappointment isn’t evident. I eye the pile of games we haven’t played. ‘Maybetomorrow . . .’
‘Tomorrow I’ll need to make an appearance in Dionysus,’ Sath cuts me off like a sucker punch to the gut. I must not hide the pathetic way my face falls in time because he plants a hand on my shoulder before I can exit in a huff, and adds softly, ‘Perhaps the night after?’
His words stoke the embers of a fire in my belly, warmth blooming within me in a rush. Maybe my Find Willow a Friend mission hasn’t been a total failure after all. Outwardly I shrug, gifting him with the smallest of smiles. ‘Sure.’
I half walk, half skip to my room, and not even the stares of two demons loitering in the entrance chamber can bring me down. It’s only when I’m inside that I worry those stares may have been something other than curiosity at seeing me leave Sath’s chambers.
What if Aric’s been talking?
Despite how shattered I am, I don’t sleep well. Semi-conscious, I toss and turn, feeling sweat pool in my armpits, down the back of my neck, unable to open my eyes and do anything about it. I dream of the tunnel again, of blood crashing over me in one great wave, only now there’s a shape within that fluid, a shape with a spiked tail and sharp claws.
I wake with my heart pounding and my hair in a matted knot.
Knowing sleep is lost to me now, I drag myself out of bed and head to the showers on level three hundred. The cliff opens into a cavern hosting a communal swimming pool, a waterfall tumbling down one side of the rock face, the splash of water so thunderous it nearly drowns out the shrieks of humans playing with a colourful beach ball or jumping off the sides into the shallow end.
My feet slap against damp stone as I make my way past the pool. One section is unoccupied, and it’s only when I draw closer I spy something green deep beneath the surface – a demon lyingin wait for anyone who draws too close.
I shiver, hurrying towards an archway that leads to the showers housed in hundreds upon hundreds of alcoves carved into the grey stone. Our privacy is maintained by a black veil that shutters over every entrance as soon as you step inside. I walk down the corridor – I’ve never reached the end – searching for a free cubicle. Humans clutching towels pass me with chattering lips and gooseflesh skin. The showers here are fairly pathetic, the spray of water barely more than a trickle and tepid in temperature. Maybe that’s part of our punishment: we’re staying in a budget hotel that didn’t pay for decent boiler pressure.
The corridor splits in two halfway down, and a familiar voice makes me pause. The other tunnel leads to various hot springs, and I peer through the mist and steam in the first of many small caves to find Harper and her friends sitting in the pool. A pang of longing pulsates in my chest, like the reverb from a string that’s just been plucked.
Even if Sath holds to his promise of a rematch tomorrow, I still have tonight to deal with, plus all the others he declares himself unavailable.
I’m tired of being alone.
Watching them interact, I deliberate whether or not they’ll accept me after what they witnessed yesterday.
I step soundlessly through the mist, so they don’t notice me spying on them. Glowing crystals are inset in the walls of the cave, bathing them in an ethereal green light, and the smell of salt stings the air.
The boy is in the water, dark curls plastered to his face. Harper and the girl sit with their legs dangling into its depths, Harper’s arm around her shoulders, her fingers playing absent-mindedly with strands of black hair. They speak in low murmurs, and then the boy grins and jumps up, splashing the pair of them. They shriek, leaping into the water after him,ducking his head under before allowing him to resurface with a gasp. Their laughter bounces around the walls of the cave as the three of them swim to the edge of the springs.
The way Harper looks at them makes my chest ache harder. Noah used to look at me like that, at least in the early days. I can barely remember it now. His whole face is a fading dream, his features turning vague, pictures of a puzzle I can’t piece together. Guilt is a stone in my stomach. I spent last night playing Scrabble with the Devil, and I didn’t think of my boyfriend once.
As though sensing my presence, Harper turns her head. Her eyes go wide when she spots me. ‘Willow!’
‘Hello again.’ I wave, a gesture I hope saysI am not a violent person and you would not be at risk if you let me join you.‘I can’t stop bumping into you.’
‘Asphodel has a way of leading you to where you need to be,’ the boy says.
Please. If that were true, it would have led me to the exit by now.
Harper lifts herself out of the springs, a puddle forming at her feet, before wrapping a towel around her waist. Her hair is streaked pumpkin orange today, contrasting with the blue in her eyes.
‘This is Amelia and Henry.’ She gestures at her companions. ‘We weren’t sure . . . We thought King Sathanas might have . . .’
‘Set me on fire?’ It’s weird hearing his name on someone else’s lips. To me, he’s Sath, and to her, he’s a stranger. Someone to be revered, feared. All I want to do is beat him at Scrabble. ‘He did something else instead.’
I let her infer what she wants from that. Besides, it’s not like the tasks aren’t punishment, in a way.
‘Why don’t you sit with us?’ Harper says. ‘And tonight, we’re going to Dionysus, if you want to join. You’re always there alone.’
