Fate's Demand (Twisted Fate, Book 3)

Chapter Forty-Three

Except for the shadows and the library, Hell's Fire was an exact replica of Glory Academy. It was like a strange rendition of opposite day. The garden of light and color turned dark and gray. The shine turned to smudge, smooth to rough and rough to smooth, and the Glory from Heaven turned into the fire from Hell. I would never be able to touch the walls of lava without burning my skin, the air already ripe with smoke and heat.

It was a Gothic beauty, a black spot marring the reddened earth burning around its perimeter. Why did it feel so alluring? The lack of rules or the fact that they obviously weren't restricted from seeing what they left behind drew me in. Or maybe it was the fact that it had been a choice and not an order to find out about the Dark Souls.

Plus, the dorms were a step up.

A bed, a vanity, a desk, and a dresser with a mirror. Everything was black. I hadn't looked at the books on the corner shelf yet, but only because I was immediately distracted. Unless I had been stuck in the ghetto of Glory Academy, Heaven didn't keep up with technology—my new dorm had satellite television. They must have tapped into networks like neighbours stealing each other's connections. From what I'd seen, Hell's Fire must be on the same time as Earth, or the programming would have been way off and confusing to track.

I climbed onto the queen-sized bed at the center of the room, which thankfully wasn't made of fire like the Brothers' were made of cloud. Perched on the brown comforter across from the 32" tv, I gazed around. It was strange to think I could find comfort here, yet even the steam rising from lava pools in the ground outside my window didn't unnerve me.

It was also the first room, aside from the washrooms, where lava didn't invade walls in a cacophony of streaming fire. Stepping through the halls had been like sitting around a campfire, warm and soothing with the sounds of cackling kinder. So long as I didn't breathe too deep, it didn't burn. I had a niggling worry that too much time spent in Hell's Fire would kill me—inhalation of too much smoke or soot or whatever.

It was good I was here in soul and not body, or whatever.

Justine had dragged me around for two hours. Every time I mentioned being tired—coming to Hell was as bad as coming back to life—she had just one more thing I had to see, and she was too adorable to deny. Making her happy seemed like the key to making the rest compliant, or at least less hostile. When she dropped me off, my eyelids were droopy, and I'd caught my head from dropping my chin to my chest at least three times.

After ten minutes of the Vampire Diaries, I was fast asleep on top of the covers with the lights on and the television blaring. Maybe comfort was gained by being too tired to notice discomfort. I didn't know. It was one more thing to figure out once I caught up on my sleep.

*****

In my dreams, Mike's voice soothed while Gabe's brought warmth. Suzie was comfort and David was... David—love, light, and safety. He filled everything good and excused the bad with the mystery of his existence. While my soul found rest, it was as though my body was talking to me, sharing the secrets of all that I couldn't see or understand.

When the dream ran its course, they all faded, and I woke up.

I'm in Hell's Fire.

Dark Souls aren't a myth.

Deryk brought me here.

Oh, man. Suzie was going to be pissed about that.

Sitting up, I stretched the kinks from my body. It was still warm and the air in the building was too heavy for covers. The channel was still airing Vampire Diaries, episode four in some kind of special marathon, which meant I'd slept just over three hours. How was I rested as though sleeping for twelve? And how did the sky outside look the same? Not day but not night, it was stuck instead with the light of a rising or setting sun.