Page 6 of A Match Made in Hell
He quirks a brow. It’s the first real expression I’ve seen cross his face, and it makes him look normal, like he’s a bog-standard human and not the King of Hell.
I wonder if he did it on purpose, to get me to lower my guard.
‘Please,’ he says, half goading, half mocking. ‘Enlighten me. What is it you want to say?’
Like that woman enlightened him, he means? Although I’m pretty sure I’m not about to chuck up on his shoes, I don’t think word vomit is going to endear me to him any more than her physical puke did. Apparently, my mouth isn’t listening to my brain though, because I can’t stop myself from saying, ‘You told us not to complain, so . . .’
‘Ah.’ He slides his hands into his pockets. ‘So you have a complaint?’
Fuck’s sake. What is wrong with me? Going through thosedoors is becoming a lot more appealing; at least a conversation with my mother wouldn’t result in me meeting yet another sticky end.
‘I’d love to hear it,’ he goes on, offering me a wicked smile. ‘I’ll make you a deal. Whatever you say in the next minute, you won’t be punished for.’
‘And I’m supposed to believe that?’
He shrugs. ‘Clock’s ticking.’
Bastard isn’t even wearing a watch. ‘I don’t make deals with the Devil.’
‘Is that what I am?’ His eyes gleam. Maybe it’s the light, but they look more golden than before, like living flames are dancing across his pupils.
‘You tell me,’ I say, willing him to slip up, divulge something. He can call this place Asphodel all he likes; the demons running round are a clear giveaway we’re not anywhere pleasant.
He reveals nothing. Instead, he takes a step towards me, one small pace that makes me want to make a big retreat. I force myself to stand my ground. I refuse to let him intimidate me, no matter what powers he possesses, or how many Glacantrums he could send me to.
‘I’ll tell you what I think about you,’ he says. ‘You think this is all one giant mistake. That you don’t belong here. That you’re a good person and you don’t deserve what awaits you beyond those doors.’
I ball my fists, wanting to scream that he’s got me all wrong. A good person wouldn’t have been the reason their father walked out the front door and never came home. A good person wouldn’t have driven their boyfriend into ignoring their calls for days. A good person wouldn’t have forced their mother to get into –
I inhale sharply. Focus, Willow.
This might be where I belong, but he doesn’t need to knowthat.
‘Do you want to know what happened to the last person who asked for my help?’
‘Not really.’ The cool smile I bestow on him is as much a lie as my words.
‘Hm.’ He matches my icy expression before looking me up and down again, a hunter assessing the best way to cage his prey. ‘Well, don’t let me keep you.’
Fuck. My chin trembles as the trap closes. If I pretend he’s right about me, maybe I’ll get the answers I seek and be sprung free – or maybe he’ll twist the key and lock me in for good.
He doesn’t give me a chance to figure out which option he’s offering. He’s walking away now, heading towards the door he first emerged from, taking all of his knowledge and stupid guesses with him, abandoning me to whatever fate lies at the end of that golden corridor.
A fate I can’t accept. Not until I’ve tried everything.
‘Wait.’
He turns at the sound of my voice.
We stare at one another from across the chamber. It’s just the two of us left in here now, and I’m sure he must be able to hear the way my breaths are too loud, too fast, giving away the nerves my bravado tries to hide. Heat thunders through me. No complaints. No bothering him. Those were the rules. My minute’s up, if that deal was even real.
I daren’t risk asking anything outright, but maybe I can play into his assumptions about me. I got here somehow; perhaps I can get out the same way.
‘How does it get decided?’ I ask. ‘Who goes where? If somebody did . . . have a complaint. Who would be to blame?’
The corners of his mouth lift. ‘Well, that would be down to the Sorter.’
I nod, like his words make any kind of sense. Sathanas jerkshis head towards the corridor behind me.
