Terminal (Terminal trilogy #1)

11: Blood on the walls

[A/N: it's percy! Percy is super fun to draw despite his generic design]

We stepped out of the elevator, Percy immediately stopping to straighten his clothes and fluff up his hair. We were at the pit, and I showed him the way to the secret meeting room- down a nearby staircase, until we were level with the rift. It didn't look like anything other than blackness. On the far side, reachable by creeping along the perimeter, were a set of dark metal doors.

Hell was, simply put, badly made, if that needs to be repeated: While we could have come up to the pit room from Wrath, from there we would have no way to reach the meeting space, which was level with the bottom. Hence the whole long ride up, long ride down thing.

"Where does this crevice lead?" Rhamiel asked me, still using a harsh whisper.

"Tartarus," I said, "Real nasty place." Last thing I needed was him knowing it was the way out to Heaven.

He narrowed his eyes like he didn't quite believe me.

The doors were unlocked, and beyond them was a long and curving tunnel, rougher than most, with wooden supports along the side. There was another way into this meeting room, I was sure of it. Just... didn't know where it was.

Percy scoffed at something. Maybe the status of this terrible hallway. When the end was finally in sight, he started to outpace me, and hurried straight through the doors to the meeting room without a word, ignoring the figure who was standing outside it.

The figure in question, actually, was someone I immediately recognized.

"Sydney!" I said.

She jumped a little. "Oh shit. You. What are you doing here? You were supposed to be gone by now!" She looked absolutely horrified at Rhamiel.

"Uh, yeah, got caught up in escorting that guy."

"He's the angel's representative, right? I guess this peace thing might actually have a chance." Sydney sighed. "They're all in there, of course, but they officially just threw me out. I just can't believe this is happening, you know?"

"Isn't it your fault for not doing your job well enough or whatever? Your anti-peace side friends had a lot to say on the subject."

"They were being unfair. I gave them the angelswords, for christ's sake. I don't see how some jerk friend of Charlie's deserves this more than me."

"I don't really care."

"That is pretty typical for you, isn't it? Being an apathetic mess." She was still sounding like her favorite cat had died, but a little of her irritating spark was back. After a second, she added, "I apologize if that sounded rude."

"You are rude."

She frowned. "Hey, look: so, when I was growing up, I was given everything I ever wanted-"

I groaned.

"Are you honestly groaning at another human being's attempt to explain herself and her actions, and further help you understand?"

"Sorry, everyone's just always telling me these life stories, and rarely they're that interesting, y'know? Maybe at first, but then they drag on and on."

"This is short."

"Okay."

"So I hated feeling spoiled and I've since developed this habit of trying to one-up everyone I meet. It's not like I'm blind to myself you know. I realize how I am and how I act. I always think I'm funnier than I really am in the same way I think I'm smarter or more valuable than I really am. I always try too hard with these things."