Of course she does.
“What d’ya wanna know?”
“My sister. I need you to help me contact her.”
Tony tilts his head. “Does she look like you?”
Confused, her lips move without sound coming out, before she shakes it off and replies, “I guess?”
“Can’t help you. Unless she’s down under, I can’t reach her. And I’d remember seeing such a pretty face?—”
I shove him before he can finish his sentence.
Sable’s gaze flickers to me, a silent questioning look that says,What the fuck is your problem?
My hyperactive friend isn’t getting to flirt with her. It isn’t happening. He’ll charm her, like he does with everyone, and the thought of the two of them fucking…
Not.Happening.
She asks more questions. Not much about where we came from but what landed us in Hell—Tony obviously found a boundary though, because instead of giving her answers, he tells her she has nice eyes.
She does. But he has no right to fucking tell her that.
And great. She’s blushing again.
I shake my head and walk to the window, staring out at the world as their voices mingle into one annoying sound. I tug at my collar, suddenly feeling hot when I hear a laugh slip out of her. For someone who just died and wants to speak to herdead sister, she sure seems comfortable with this social fucking butterfly.
It’s why he’s been positioned to welcome our new arrivals. His job is to lead newcomers to their stations, make them weep out their sins, mark their skin with flames, then lead them to their forever home. We got lucky with our dorm. Most people end up curled up on top of a mattress with five others, covered in burns, tears soaking their cheeks.
We’ve all been there.
They earn their way to comfort.
I watch the far-off sunset, the orange and pink hues taking over the sky. It’s been a while since I watched one. I used to take Dylan to the lake when Mom was having a really bad day. We’d eat what we could find, and I’d tell him a story. Most of the time, he’d fall asleep, and I’d carry him home. Other times, we’d stay there for as long as possible, avoiding the reality of watching our mother withering away.
When darkness takes over the scene in front of me, I turn around and lean against the window frame. They’re still talking, Tony continuing to pretend he has a clue what Sable is saying about her dead sister.
“So basically, she died and you tried to talk to her with your witchy-woo book, you somehow died, and you’re stuck here?”
“Notsomehow.” She jabs her finger at me. “He snapped my fucking neck.”
Tony gasps theatrically, pressing a hand to his chest. “How could you kill such a pretty face?”
Good question.
It was impulsive, reckless, and a real shame, but if I hadn’t done it, someone else much worse than me might’ve come out and tortured her to death. And I couldn’t risk her sending me back to Hell because I need to find Dylan.
I don’t reply to him; my gaze slips to her.
She’s glaring at me. So she’s still pissed I killed her.
Noted.
Her brown eyes slide to Tony, but the words die on her lips as his neck abruptly cracks to the side, the sound of bone crushing echoing around us. His arm snaps into an alarming angle, and Sable’s eyes widen as she steps back.
I sigh.
This night can’t possibly get any worse.
