Page 24 of A Match Made in Hell
There’s a scuffle of movement, a yelp, and the music inside Dionysus stops, replaced by claps and jeers. A moment later, the drums resume, but it’s not the start of a song. It’s a countdown.
I creep out from the alcove and into Dionysus as surreptitiously as I can, keeping to the edge of the cave and ducking behind two humans who reek of body odour, peering through the crack between them. The heat in here is overwhelming. Sweat drips down my neck; I’m standing too close to the lava drizzling down the walls.
At least it’s a distraction from the way my gut twists arounditself, tying into knots I’ll never undo. Sath has dragged a man on to the dance floor and forced him to his knees. The man trembles as Sath towers over him, his face devoid of all emotion. Like the man isnothingto him; no more than a broken toy ready to be discarded. Sheets of shadows wrap around Sath’s arms. Demons stand around them, forked tongues flicking out like they can taste the man’s fear. Maybe they can. Aric is to Sath’s right, grinning so wide he displays a pearly-white set of fangs.
Then he rushes forward, pouncing on the man, biting into his neck, and the chanting of the demons gets louder and louder, the beat of the drums gets faster; blood sprays over the floor as another demon joins in, and the man’s screaming, andIwant to scream because they’re going to rip him apart and no one’s doing anything to stop it, and if they keep going his body will be destroyed, his soul lost to the Void for thousands of years, to hear those voices and his worst memories over and over again. And he’s not done anythingwrong.
‘Enough.’ Sath’s voice is louder than the drums, the demons’ jeering. For a split second I think Aric might disobey, but then he rises to his feet, red staining his jaw as he resumes his place at Sath’s side. The man’s curled himself into a ball, trembling arms wrapped around his knees. He rocks back and forth, whimpering, reminding me that no matter howinterestinga day I’ve had, this place is nothing more than a nightmare waiting to invade your dreams.
A hush falls throughout the room. ‘What is his crime?’ Sath asks in a soft voice. This isn’t the gentle softness from yesterday, when he spoke of Elysium, but the quiet lull that comes before a storm, where the clouds are gathering and the air feels charged.
‘I told you.’ Aric folds his arms, resembling a petulant child. ‘He looked at me. Like he was thinking of hurting me.’
Please. I’ve never heard such a blatant lie.
‘Is that true?’ Sath asks the man.
The man shakes his head.
‘He was found by the river, trying to escape,’ the Sorter chimes in. Her eyes glitter with malice.
There’s a sharp intake of breath from the humans. They’re like an audience who’ve been to every show and have memorised every twist, and they’re not excited about what’s coming.
‘Ah,’ Sath says. ‘Did I not make the rules on escape attempts clear?’
The demons press closer, forming a tighter semicircle around them.
‘I wasn’t . . . I didn’t . . .’
‘Was my hospitality not good enough for you?’ Sath readjusts his collar, before glancing over at the humans, all clustered together like our numbers will be enough to save us. ‘And what about the rest of you? Are you enjoying what Asphodel has to offer?’
Nobody speaks.
‘Would anybody else like to go in the river?’ he asks. Carefully, deliberately, he undoes the buttons of his shirt cuffs, rolling the sleeves up to his elbows and tucking them in just as slowly. The room stays silent. ‘As I thought.’
The man whimpers. ‘I want to go home.’
Quick as a flash, Sath pulls him into the air, holding him by the throat while his feet dangle somewhere around Sath’s knees. ‘This is your home,’ Sath says, voice like ice. ‘A pity you didn’t accept that. Now, what am I to do with you?’
Immediately, the demons chant, ‘Tartarus! Tartarus!’
Sath’s jaw is locked, his shoulders tight. More black shadows ripple down his arms, and then they set alight, because they’re not shadows at all, but dark flames that burn down his newly exposed forearms, his hands, leaping on to the man who immediately goes quiet as the flames form a cloak around him, shielding him from view. Some of the demons clap.
The Sorter, I notice, doesn’t. She’s scowling. So is Aric.
The flames subside once the man’s fully disintegrated into ash, smouldering flakes floating into the air like errant dust particles. I stare at those fragments of a person, of a life, as they drift from the room. Gone. Lost to the Void. Sath brushes his hands on his trousers. He’s unscathed, like he hasn’t just set himself on fire and burned someone. Not a single strand of hair is out of place.
I should have asked more questions before agreeing to work with him.
A split-second decision is a bad decision. I’ve done it again, haven’t I? Fuck.Fuck. Even when my intentions are good I get everything wrong.
I promised myself I wouldn’t be fooled by the way he looks, the way he appears more human than the others. But he’s not, and I fell for it. I made a deal with the Devil – a cold, unfeeling murderer – and I have no idea what the consequences are going to be.
I need to find out. The music resumes, and the demons immediately return to gyrating, tails swaying in time to the beat, not caring that they’re trampling over someone’s remains.
Sath leaves them to it, stepping from the dance floor and leaving Dionysus without giving them a backwards glance. Without givingmea backwards glance. I’m storming after him before I can stop myself – swerving a demon with antlers that’s approaching like it intends to drag me on to the dance floor – determined to discover who, exactly, I’ve aligned with.
By the time I’ve weaved my way out, he’s halfway down the corridor, shrouded in smoke.
