“Apologies again for incapacitating you, young Cambion. It was imperative that we didn’t expose ourselves to the humans.”
To thehumans? He’s a madman!
“Would you like to walk?” he asks, a little like he’s asking for my preference. Coffee with milk or sugar?
“I would like to walk out of here,” I answer when I find my voice.
The man—I think he said his name is Corson—shakes his head.
“I’m afraid that isn’t possible. Purgatory is your home now.”
I start struggling in his arms, and he finally sets me down, my legs shaky at first.
“Look,” I begin. “Whatever my parents are paying you, I’ll… I’ll find a way to get you more. They’re not good people. Please, just let me go. I don’t want to go back to France.”
Corson gives me an odd smile. “You’re not going back to France, Simone. You’re in the Underworld.”
A small giggle erupts from my throat. “You’re insane, right? Or is this a joke?”
“No joke.” He indicates the hallway ahead of us, and I realize I hear voices. There’s shouting, even crying. What the hell is going on here?
If there are more people here against their will… then was this not my parents’ doing?
My feet feel rooted to the ground. I’ve been scared many times in my life, but it was all from knowing what to expect—the worst. Here, what’s ahead is unknown.
“I’m…” I trail off, my breath coming faster as my mind conjures up different scenarios. “I don’t want to. Please don’t make me,” I finally say.
I realize I sound like a frightened child, but that’s because I feel like one.
Corson shakes his head. “Where is Daniel?” he mutters to himself. “He’s better equipped to handle fragile little mortals.”
I hate that even after all these years, I’m still fragile, still not a survivor. The comment makes my back straighten, makes some smidge of pride inside me come to life.
“Fine,” I say on a shaky exhale. “If I go there, you’ll tell me what the hell is going on?”
A corner of Corson’s mouth twitches into a smile before he visibly schools his expression and nods gravely.
“Then let’s go,” I murmur, acting braver than I feel.
Corson leads me to an atrium filled with people. But they’re not what has me nearly tripping over my feet. No, that would be the sky.
“What… How?” I stammer, looking at the swirling red aurora on a bed of deep indigo.
“I told you,” Corson says. “You’re in Purgatory.”
With that, he walks past me to where more imposing men in robes like his are standing, most with hoods still covering their faces.
A few more people in various states of distress are brought in as I still numbly gawk at the sky. Maybe we’re in a virtual reality simulation?
This isn’t Star Trek, Simone. Quelle idiote.
“I want to go home,” a pale woman with auburn hair says quietly behind me, drawing my attention. Another robed figure is by her side, tall, with gleaming dark skin and eyes that make my heart stop in my chest—they’re yellow and slitted! Those have to be contact lenses. Right?
The man leaves her side, but instead of joining Corson and the rest of the robed figures, he strides to the center of the atrium. A circle quickly forms around him, no one wanting to be too close to him.
“Let me repeat what you’ve been told as you were brought here today,” the man begins, his voice deep and captivating. “You’re in the fortress of Abaddon. This realm is also known as Purgatory.”
I gasp when a boy with pink hair tries to run back the way we came. The large man’s hand shoots out so fast that my eyes have a hard time tracking it, stopping the young man in his tracks.
