Page 85 of A Match Made in Hell
‘You were supposed to . . . You can’t . . . They’ll kill you. You’ll go to the Void, and you’ll be nothing, and I – you’ll benothing.’ His voice cracks. ‘You’ll be gone.Gone.’ With each repetition of the phrase something rumbles in the distance, building into a crescendo; flames spark down his arms, stronger than ever.
‘Sath.’ There’s nothing to be done when he’s in this state. I settle for propelling myself across the room and gripping his arm. ‘Sath. Stop.’
His expression is feral when he turns to me, eyes fully aflame. Black strands of wild, untamed hair droop over his forehead. His shoulders heave as he pants.
The room shakes again, harder this time, like everything’s been tilted on an axis, and we stumble and slide into the bar as though we’re on a slippery slope. I wince as my arm cracks against the marble. The room pitches again. Sath does a better job of bracing himself this time, planting himself wide before gripping my waist and pulling me into him before I go tumbling.
‘What’s happening?’ I raise my voice to be heard over the sound of rock crunching deep below my feet. ‘Is it the gates?’
Cold, prickling fear creeps down my spine.
‘Sath.’ I place a hand on his chest. His heart is thundering. He shudders beneath my touch, but the frantic beating slows a smidge. ‘You can’t lose control.’
The look he gives me is one of utter, utter hopelessness.
‘It’s inevitable,’ he whispers.
Every part of me aches for him. There’s nothing I can say or do to help though, so when he turns away from me, I don’t protest. The gates have quietened now, at least, and the room has taken a temporary reprieve from trying to throw me around.
‘There’s only one thing I can do,’ he says. ‘I haven’t got a choice.’
I place a hesitant hand on his arm and immediately flinch away, because he’shot, burning up, like his flames and power have erupted. My hand is red and scalded, as though I’ve accidentally doused it in water from a freshly boiled kettle.
He moves, making a sound that’s half scream, half roar. I crash into a stool in an attempt to get away. Hairs lift on the back of my neck, my breaths coming in rapid bursts.
And then Sath spins round, and I stop breathing at all.
There’s a heart in his hand. Why is there a heart in his hand? I scan his chest for evidence he’s just clawed inside himself, but his jumper is unmarred.
‘Take it,’ he says. ‘I’m giving it to you.’
I hear the words. I don’t understand them.
There’s a heart in his hand.
It’s black and shrivelled; rivers of blue veins glisten as they snake and coil around the organ. It pulses in his palm, slow and steady and alive.
‘What . . . ?’
‘Take it.’ He drops the heart into my palms. It’s heavy, and curiously dry. Despite my mild disgust, my thumb runs over it, feeling the bumps and ridges along the surface. If I close my eyes, I can pretend I’m holding a large raspberry. A beating raspberry.
‘Is it yours?’ I ask.
Wait.
If thisishis, it clearly holds some of his powers. I don’t see how else it would still be working if not for magic. What if . . .‘Would I be able to leave with this?’
He doesn’t answer. He stares at me, then at the heart, as though if he looks hard enough he can will me into action.
‘I don’t understand.’ My tongue feels heavy in my mouth. If this is my salvation, I don’twantit. I chose not to go back.
‘You did enough. You have to have done enough.’ Sath’s eyes glisten. ‘Take the heart.’
‘But . . . I . . .’ This doesn’t make sense. Something’s not right. His hands capture mine, closing my fingers around the heart, desperate almost. The heart pulses, fluttering with panic, like a bird that can’t beat its wings as fast as it’d like.
‘Please,’ Sath says. ‘Put it next to your chest and the heart will do the rest. It knows what to do.’
It? What does he meanit? It’s him, it’s his, it’s been held in place by his ribcage for all the centuries he’s been here, and he’s giving it away like an old pair of shoes.
