Page 79 of Hell’s Half Acre

“For an obvious reason. But you could have told me why you were so hellbent against Luke.”

He gave her a dry stare. “You really need to stop hanging out with him so much. He’s rubbing off on you more than you realize.”

Not true.

She knew exactly how much Luke was rubbing off on her. And if she were honest about it, she liked it. Luke brought out the best in her, and she liked to think she made him better too.

At least as good as a prince of Hell could be.

Which made her wonder something. “Did you come here to spy on Luke?”

He turned instantly sheepish, which confirmed it. “You don’t understand how bad he is.”

“But he fights those impulses. Doesn’t that count for something?”

Rory hesitated before he answered. “It does. But remember that even Lucifer was an angel. Creatures change. Just like that poor woman. She was decent…until this morning.”

Sorcha wanted to deny it. If only she could.

The truth was when she’d been a cop, she’d put people away every day because of one bad act. Many of them were career criminals who didn’t even bother to try to be decent.

As Luke had noted, they committed atrocious acts that defied logic.

Others were like Karen. Normal up until they’d been pushed too far. Or until they let their fear get ahold of them.

Yet she’d also seen people turn themselves around.

“People can change.”

“He’s not people, Sorcha. You don’t know what Hell is like.”

“And you do?”

Rory pulled her to a stop. Facing her, he held his hand out. “You want to see for yourself?”

Did she? The very thought made her heart race. “Can you do that?”

He nodded.

All she had was the concept of Hell that her grandfather had instilled in her during his sermons. Fire, brimstone, treacle. A horrific horned devil who was ready to devour everyone.

Helly and Luke assured her that it was worse than anything she could imagine.

Trinket, too. He’d painted a horrific scene that still haunted her.

You’re not a coward.

True. She’d faced the unimaginable. Had seen her identical twin mutilated. There was no worse moment than seeing yourself in a crime photo.

Siobhan was the one person she loved most. Her confidant. Her best friend. They’d been born holding hands.

Every day without Siobhan was Hell. So why not see what it was actually like?

Taking a breath, Sorcha placed her hand into Rory’s.

Her head spun as she was shown a realm the likes of which she’d never imagined. It was so hot that she felt as if she’d explode. How could her skin remain on her body?

For some reason, she’d thought there would be flames everywhere. Instead, it was a desolate, charred landscape. Like something in a Night Gallery painting.