Page 102 of A Match Made in Hell
A sword materialises in my hand.
Her throat bobs. ‘You’re forgetting you need me.’
‘Do I?’ I raise a brow. ‘Or did you become the Sorter to make yourself feel important,Amara?’
She flinches at the use of her old name.
‘You thought you were too special to be an ordinary demon so you had to invent a role for yourself. It’s pathetic, really. You’reonly happy when you have power over others, but what does that say aboutyou, that your self-worth is so tied up in making other people feel awful?’ I bring the blade to her neck and she tries to take a step back, only there’s nowhere to go, a crowd of humans forming a barricade behind her. ‘But do you know what . . . ?’
The sword disappears in a waft of shadow, and her eyes widen.
‘. . . You’renotspecial.’ I lean forward until we’re nose to nose. ‘You’re not different. You don’t deserve a dramatic ending for the history books. You are no better or worse than any other demon in this room, and you’re going back to Tartarus the same way as the rest of them.’
I conjure another flaming whip and hand it to Sath, who immediately takes charge of binding the Sorter. She shouts and curses, but I tune her out, leading the procession into the bowels of Asphodel where the gates reside. The skull-socket candles lining the corridors watch me as I pass, like they too are curious as to whether this will work, or whether I’m about to engage in the worst form of self-sabotage ever seen.
The gates are the most silent I’ve seen them. This is encouraging, I guess, and means I’m holding together better than Sath was, at the end. The metal is cool to the touch, but in the back of my mind, something rumbles, for the first time since I reconnected with Sath.
They’re waiting on the other side. With clubs and swords and spears. Beneath their feet a wind is stirring, red dust spraying over the vast, deserted ground surrounding them.
I compel it to stir faster.
‘How do I get these open?’ I ask Sath. There’s no door handle, although some of the carved demon faces have exceptionally long horns. I’m tempted to give one a pull.
‘The sins. You’ll need to give in, just for a moment.’ Sath takes my hand, his fingers trailing over mine like he wants tomemorise the shape of them. ‘Willow –’
‘No goodbyes. We’re going to be fine.’ Reluctantly, I add, ‘But if we’re not, don’t forget what I said to you. Get yourself out.’
‘I’ve told you, I’m not leaving you.’ His hand grips tighter. ‘Remember, once the gates are open, you need to regain control immediately. There has to be a divide. Nothing bad will happen if you keep the divide.’
I nod, letting go of his hand. Happiness is the last thing I need if I want to get these gates open. Closing my eyes, I focus on the demons on the other side. On the rumbles of discontent. On how badly they want to rip, and tear, and kill.
On how they want to destroy everything good and pure, to turn dreams into nightmares, to force the humans into subservience the same way the Sorter did, the same way mymotherdid. And, just like how the Sorter enjoyed analysing our clipboards, Mum enjoyed reminding me of my mistakes, over and over, because if she wasn’t the most powerful person in a room she might have been forced to look at herself for a change and realise she wasn’t special either.
Flames erupt down my arms.
She belittled me to the point I felt worthless. She screamed at me until Dad walked out. She forced me into a relationship that had me questioning every little thing I did. I wasted so much time destroying myself and forwhat?
The doors rattle. Hinges pop.
I wouldn’t have quit that course if she hadn’t made me take it in the first place. I wouldn’t have been on that cliff if I hadn’t surrounded myself with people who didn’t care.Sheis the reason I’m dead.
I blamed myself and berated myself, but the only person who should feel guilty here is her.
A loud whistling, shrieking sounds, like a kettle that won’t stop boiling and now it’s going to explode. Sweat slides downmy face. I spent years trying to make myself small, but now I’m a suppressed jack-in-the-box finally sprung free, unleashing myself on the world.
Unleashing mywrathon the world.
The ground beneath my feet shakes. Heat blasts my face.
The gates swing open.
Yes, yes, yes, the demons in my head shout with jubilation. I gasp, opening my eyes and reaching for Sath or Harper oranyone. Wrath rages in my veins, demanding I let those celebrating demons through to cause the kind of carnage they’re begging me for.
Nobody takes my hand.
Nobody notices me at all. Their focus is what’s on the other side of the gates. I catch a glimpse of barren tundra, a flash of an extremely large snake with yellow eyes, and then the whole image is swallowed up by a great tidal wave of blood.
Keep the divide.
