Page 104 of A Match Made in Hell
‘Shutup,’ I scream. She’s the problem; I know that now. I don’t need to listen to her any more.
‘Willow.’ Sath’s voice sounds far away, and I don’t know what to do. I’ve failed, I’ve failed, I’ve failed.
Someone screams. Multiple someones. I sit ankle-deep in the blood of those who died in Tartarus, all too aware that soon it will be mixed with the blood of Asphodel too, and there’s not a thing I can do about it. I’ve damned us all. It’s too much. My body floods with anger, with despair, and flames engulf me.
‘Willow!’
A head is deposited at my feet. I stare at its glassy eyes, its open mouth, as my flames burn hotter.
What a pathetic human, letting itself get killed.Weren’t theysupposed to be following my orders?
My gaze snaps up. No one is following my instructions. They should be hurting the demons, not the other way round. I lash out whips of flame, ensnaring the nearest demons, dragging them off the humans they were about to devour. I bind their ropes tighter before sending out another blast of fire.
I can’t hear over the roaring in my head. The gates are open. I have to get the demons through the gates.Tear. Hurt. Kill.
Yes. Yes, I want to do that. Tear. Hurt. Kill. If they’re not being called back, I’ll have to shove them back, by any means necessary. But the snake’s blocking the path; I need to kill the snake.
Are you sure? You said it yourself, these humans are pathetic.
I didn’t say that. Did I say that? It’s hard to differentiate the voices in my head from myownvoice, to know what’s me and what’s them. All our thoughts bleed into one. Everything is muddled; my temple pounds. I snap the neck of a demon. Mum’s voice sounds again, louder than the rest.
It’ll stop when you give in. You can have everything you want, so long as you don’t kill the snake.I’d be so proud of you, Willow.
She has a point. The snake isn’t causing any harm. It just wants to feed. The humans, the stupid, screaming humans, they’re the ones at fault.
Tear. Hurt. Kill. My hand closes on another neck, this one soft, hairless, almost like – I blink. It’s a human. I don’t want to hurt the humans. Do I?
‘Willow!’
Why is that man calling my name?
I let the human go, rubbing my temples, confused.Tear. Hurt. Kill.
‘Willow.’ Someone touches my arm. They’re familiar, I think.Blindly, I reach towards them, wanting to be closer. They tug me into them. I breathe in their fresh scent and allow it to dim my power. ‘Remember, your sins don’t control you.’
Sath. It’s Sath. IknowSath. I know the anger more. I know this unspeakable rage at the injustice of what’s happening in this room; nobody here deserves to be torn apart, and yet they are, and I led them here, it’s my fault, mine, and the demons are using that against me, making me think things I don’t want to think.
You failed, Willow. Give in.
I look at Sath, desperately trying to focus on his face, but it’s blurry and distorted as the demons tell me how worthless I am, how the only way to make it better is to make everyone else hurt as much as I am. I want to. I want to blow this whole place up, if only so it’ll be over.
‘I can’t stop them,’ I whisper.
‘Yes, you can.’ He brings my hand to his chest, allowing me to feel the thunder of his heart beneath my palm. ‘You have one of these too. It might be fused with that wicked thing from Tartarus, but it’s there, and it feels more than sin. You can do this, Willow.’
The voices scream louder.Hurt him. He’s lying to you. He’s always lied to you.
That voice, I know, isn’t mine. I forgave Sath. I did. And if anyone’s going to make me feel something more than this, it’s him. Ignoring everything going on around us, I pull him to me, kissing him, letting him remind me there are things in this world that are good and pure and worth saving. That he believed in me before anyone else did. That I believe inmyselfnow.
There must be blood on his face, because his lips taste like metal, but I don’t care. He holds me against him, kissing me like he’d give me his own heart if he could. And with that kiss, I remember. Feelings of warmth, joy, happiness, banishing thosevoices telling me those things don’t exist any more. It smothers their negativity. I see the gates in my mind’s eye; see booted feet failing to cross the threshold that was so close to snapping apart.
I see a wind pick up, gathering dust in its wake and spilling out into the tunnel.
I smile against Sath’s mouth and pull back. ‘Thank you.’
Don’t thank him. Let the snake through. You’d make me proud. Wouldn’t you like that?
I’ve spent far too long trying to make a disembodied voice proud.
