by May Dawson
“And here I thought my parents were fucked up,” Lincoln says.
Ever throws aside the notebook. “Ah, fuck them. They don’t deserve a letter anyway. What’s the story there, Linc?”
“First,” Lincoln says, “I want to know why you plan to go into the Sent when your parents are such pricks.”
Ever scoffs. “You think I’m a prick too. Why shouldn’t I?”
Lincoln rolls his eyes. “You’re insufferable and self-righteous and a bit too nice for a Nephilim. You annoy the hell out of me, but you’re nothing like your parents and you know it. You’d never use anyone you considered family.”
It’s one of the longest—and the nicest—things I’ve ever heard Lincoln say, and silence hangs in the room for a few long seconds.
Then Ever says, “I know some assholes seek the power of being Sent. But humanity really does need to be protected. From the demons. From the Lords…you know they’ll rise again.”
“We could do that,” Julian says lazily beside me. His eyes are closed; he looks like he’s more interested in a nap than saving the world. “We could do it together.”
“Holy shit, Everett’s sweetness is contagious,” Lincoln mutters.
“Well?” Ever asks Lincoln.
“My father popped in and dragged me bodily to the gates to ‘turn myself in’,” Lincoln says. He knits his arms over his chest. “It’s not that I wanted to be a Lord anymore—not after what they did to Eden and Elliot—but I didn’t want to be here either.”
“Who does?” I ask lightly.
Julian opens his eyes just so he can turn his head and give him a skeptical look. “You do, apparently.”
“If we went into the Sent,” I ask Lincoln carefully, “would you come with me?”
“Sure,” Linc says. We’ve all been making these revelations of who we are, of who we could be. But Linc just glances around the room and then says, “Who the hell else would put up with you fools?”
Ever is the first one to start laughing, but then I start giggling at Lincoln’s grouchy face.
And finally, even Lincoln gives in and smiles.
Of course, I don’t even know if the Sent would have us, if we survived and then decided to join them. I bob up on my elbow and plant a kiss on Julian’s high forehead, then roll out of bed.
“I’m going to talk to Gabriel if he’s still around,” I say.
“I can go with you,” Lincoln offers.
“I don’t think we actually need to use the buddy system, because Michael already has his chance to kill us all tomorrow,” I confess. “I just haven’t said anything, because I like being with you all.”
Then I sweep out of the room.
I find Gabriel in the yard with Esther. She looks worried as she speaks to him, and he shakes his head, rejecting whatever she says. I pause on the threshold. She glances at me over his shoulder, and then says something else I can’t hear.
Then she pats his shoulder and walks past him, heading down the path that leads to the staff side of campus.
“Hey,” I say. “I wasn’t sure if you’d abandoned us.”
The sun is sinking low below the trees. There’s a beautiful pink sunset washing across the sky, but all I can think of is that once the sun sets, it will come up on the day we pass or die.
He walks over to me slowly, then leans against the brick wall of the building beside me. He doesn’t touch me, but his gaze follows mine, watching the sunset.
“I wouldn’t abandon you,” he says. Those words should carry weight, but he’s moving on, after that matter-of-fact promise. “I was working with the Sent. It doesn’t look good for Michael.”
I scoff at that. “Yeah, well, it doesn’t look good for us.”
He can’t argue with me. The survival rate for the Culling is definitely less than one-hundred percent.
“Who’s the girl in the photo in your office?” I ask. “Don’t make me face death without an answer to my idle curiosity.”
He smirks. “You really are still thinking about that?”
“Indulge me.”
He nods slowly, and the smirk fades before he says, “That’s my former partner, Abiah. My best friend. She was killed by a demon.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know you think the Sent is ridiculous,” he says, “and maybe sometimes they are, but they do good too, Eden. Someone has to stop the demons. Someone has to try to save the world, even though it keeps coming up with new ways to wreck itself.”
For a few long minutes, the two of us watch the last rays of sunlight fade behind the trees.
Then I ask, “Do you think we could?”
He seems to be jolted out of his reveries. I know that feeling. “Do I think you could what?”
I lick my lips, to stall because what I want to say is reckless and stupid. This time, his gaze flickers toward my mouth.
“Do you think that my guys and I could save the world?” I ask.
A smile tugs at one corner of his mouth, although his eyes are still sad. “Eden Greyson, I think you can do anything, and I don’t know whether that makes me feel heartened or terrified.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
The next morning, Finals Day dawns bright and sunny.
There are a dozen other Nephilim students prepared for the Culling. We all stand outside under the bright sunshine, in a line. I fiddle absently with the straps of my light backpack, which holds bottled water, a flashlight, and an emergency medical kit. It seems such insufficient luggage for a jaunt through hell.
Esther hands us each a sword in a sheath with a belt. Apparently, everyone else has practiced with these in our combat training, but I haven’t been here long enough. Luckily, I carried a sword as a Lord of Havoc. I strap it around my hips, and the weight pulls heavy on my right side as I take my place.
My stomach is a pit of dread. My men will be in danger today, and if one of them doesn’t make it back, I feel like I’ll be shattered all over again. We all need each other.
The other Nephilim, who aren’t going today, walk past us under Esther’s watchful eye. They shake our hands and wish us luck. Some of them hug us goodbye and I see some tearful faces as students hurry down the line, knowing they might be saying goodbye to friends forever.
Esther walks down the line last. She murmurs a few words to some students, but I expect nothing but a cursory good luck from her.
Instead, she looks at me silently for a second. Then she winks at me, a warm look spreading across her face, as if she knows I’ve got this ‘hell’ situation under control. I don’t need luck.
It’s disarming, but she’s already moving on.
When she reaches Gabriel, who stands beside me, she throws her arms around him. “Bring them all back if you can, Gabe.”
He hugs her back, and for a second, I see a flash of emotion across his stoic face. “I’ll try.”
For the first time, I believe she really does care about all the Nephilim students.
But that doesn’t matter. She can’t help us now. She stands with the other Nephilim and they watch us as we file out of the clearing.
As we head into the trees, my fingers brush against Lincoln’s. I expect him to pull away, but he glances at me, then wraps his hand around mine. Even though Lincoln is stoic and tough, I’m not sure who is comforting who.
Then we walk the path that grows ever darker. The trees interweave above us, and it feels like we’re descending into Hell. It seems ridiculous that I ran down here just days ago, intent on saving the school. Now the school is ready to damn me to hell.
Gratitude’s a lost art.
When we reach the gate, the demon instructor is there, smirking at us.
Then suddenly, light blazes into the darkness. Half a dozen angels are suddenly among us, their skin and hair shining, and it’s bright as it is the sunshine.
“Today we find out if you are worthy,” one of them says, his voice booming and lyrical at the same time. My spirits lift at his words as if I’m hearing my fav
orite song, even as the logical part of my mind knows my reaction is a bit of angelic trickery. “Today, your swords will blaze with righteousness…”
“Or today, your journey comes to an end,” a second angel says. “Some of you may be claimed as Hell’s own, trapped by your true nature.”
“Heaven itself prays over you,” a third says, pressing his hands together in an angelic gesture, but we’re all children of these assholes and we know them too well to be taken in. “Heaven cheers you forward.”
“Be blessed,” chirps another angel, as if we aren’t walking into hell, and an immediate counterpoint to his words is the first angel, who orders, “Open the gates.”
When the gates open, a blast of hot air and an odor of sulphur wash over us all.
“There is no return through this gate,” the angel intones. “You must pass along the path and emerge through the second gate. Remember to be worthy, no matter what darkness tempts you.”
It’s a final warning. We can reach the end of the path and then still be slaughtered, judged unworthy.
I take Ever’s hand in mine, Julian’s in the other.
We can’t use our swords until we’re into Hell anyway. Gabriel walks ahead of us, and Lincoln just behind, ready to spread his wings and shield us.
We lead the file of Nephilim that walk into the demon-haunted darkness.
Chapter Fifty
In Hell, at first I think we’re going to be trapped with these other Nephilim, but we quickly find ourselves strung out as the paths branch over and over. Some Nephilim walk off alone, others in groups, everyone sure they’ve found the best way out.
“Does it matter?” I ask Gabriel.
He shakes his head. “All roads lead to your destiny.”
“Who brought the fortune cookie to the party?” I demand.
He flashes me a look, and I remind him, “You’re not my teacher anymore.”
“And why don’t you two wait to explore those possibilities until we’re safely out of hell,” Julian says, leaping over a flaming puddle of lava. The lava suddenly explodes upward, as if it’s sentient and trying to burn him. He beats the flames out on his pants, nonplussed.
Gabriel gives him a look, and Julian says, “What? It’s not as if we haven’t noticed.”
“Can you stop being provoking,” Lincoln says. “Let’s all focus.”
“Thanks,” I mutter.
“We don’t need you to encourage them to think about fucking,” Lincoln adds.
Lincoln gives me an innocent look in response to my glare, and I tell him, “Sometimes I really do think I took killing you all off the table too hastily.”
“Maybe you did,” Gabriel mutters, despite being the man who tried to keep me on the straight-and-narrow from the day I arrived.
There are just a few other Nephilim ahead of us now. The tunnels twist and turn, narrow and widen.
The caves have an eerie glow, and we reach a bright cave where flames lick above our heads. Embers and ashes drip from the ceiling. Something drops into my hair, and Ever smothers the flames with his hands.
“Thanks,” I murmur. My quiet voice still echoes in the cavern.
We walk for what must be a mile, and it feels like we’re descending into the earth.
“This is it?” Lincoln grumbles, pulling at the front of his t-shirt. “It’s unpleasant, but this is a little more low-key than I expected.”
Suddenly, something skitters across the floor toward Lincoln. Then I realize the ground itself has begun to move. Hundreds of spiders have suddenly come to life underfoot.
The Nephilim in front of us turn and see the moving ground, and they turn and run.
“Thanks, guys!” I call after them.
The direction of the moving ground alters. I freeze as a wave of hundreds of spiders undulates across the ground towards me.
I look at Ever in horror as the spiders head toward me. “They’re drawn to sound,” I whisper, even though really, I’m too late to whisper.
His gaze meets mine. His jaw is tense—Ever hates spiders—and then he says, “I guess that makes this easy.”
He backs away as the spiders surge toward him, scooping to pick up a rock. He turns and hurls the rock at a stone wall, and the sound echoes through the cave, but it only makes the spiders pause. Then they resume moving in his direction.
“Now at least you can be eaten by spiders feeling smug that you died the white knight,” Lincoln shoots at him. The spiders move in his direction as he takes several quick steps toward the mouth of the cave.
I get it. I outpace Lincoln, veering to his left, and, just as the spiders almost reach him, I call, “Stop being jealous of Ever, Lincoln. I think you’re very sweet too.”
My heart pounds as the spiders run my way. Their tiny little eyes seem to glow, growing bigger as they move toward me, but when one is almost to my feet, Gabriel calls out. We leapfrog that way until we pass through an entrance to another cave, and the spiders surge back into the middle of the cave behind us. When I look back, they’ve stopped; one could walk right into the midst of them without realizing there are spiders.
“Of course Hell would have a murder-spider carpet.” Everett shudders, and I grin at him, then bump his shoulder with mine.
“My hero,” I mouth at him.
“You’re mine,” he mouths, bumping me back.
“Holy shit, I hope I just get to die in here,” Lincoln mutters. “I don’t know if I can handle a lifetime of you two shmoopy-facing at each other.”
I look up into Lincoln’s face. “Aw, shmoopy-face, you’re daydreaming about a lifetime with us, huh?”
Then we hear one of the other Nephilim shout in front of us. His desperate cry echoes eerily through the caverns. We race to help them, but we can’t seem to reach them; a stone door slams shut on the tunnel in front of us with a thud that makes the ground tremble beneath my feet.
We search frantically for a way to reach them, but the stone door seems impassible. What appears to be another path, branching away to the right, ends in a dead end. Then Julian shouts, “Over here!”
The five of us crowd to look through a narrow gap in the rocks that overlooks the river of fire below. The three Nephilim students stand in front of a bridge across the fire, on a narrow ledge. The stone door that slammed to keep us from reaching them also prevents them from going back.
One of them steps out on the flimsy bridge. Another looks up, then screams, “Move! The ceiling is moving!”
Sure enough, the stone ceiling is grinding slowly down.
“How do we help them?” I demand, searching for anything we can use to stop the relentless movement of the ceiling. Gabriel joins me in searching, and I demand, “Don’t you know anything from last year?”
He shakes his head. “Each year, the trials are different. The demons spend all year designing them.”
Of course. They want us to fail—they want fewer Nephilim in the world. What a cruel setup.
There’s a scream. Another student has frantically stepped onto the flimsy bridge, and it breaks apart, plunging both of them into the hellfire. Their flesh melts off their bones, their skeletal hands reaching skyward, and then their bones crumble into oblivion too.
“There’s got to be another way across,” I say. We search frantically, but there’s no longer any way out the way we first came.
There’s no way to leave this place than to cross the bridge.
And behind us, there’s a baying, a deep, terrifying sound that strikes fear into my heart.
“Hell hounds,” I say, my voice coming out calm.
Gabriel glances at me, and I say, “It’s not my first trip to the pound.”
We’ve got to get away from them.
“Only one person can cross the bridge at a time, and once we step on the ledge, the clock is ticking,” Ever says. “We need to break up. Go two at a time. Then we’ll have time to get across—as long as we stay calm.”
We agree.
Lincoln and I try to step out
first, since we can both fly and despite the low ceiling that will force us down, we might have a better chance of weathering any surprises. But somehow, we find ourselves all crowded onto the ledge even though we left the others behind. The door slams shut behind us, and there’s a lurch as the floor beneath us begins to retract.
The bridge across the hellfire, already fragile, begins to stretch as the floor grinds away beneath our feet.
“Go, Lincoln!” I shout, and he runs across the bridge. There’s no time to waste—I’m satisfied he trusted me. The bridge swings wildly back and forth, but he reaches the other side.
“Julian!” Gabriel shouts as soon as he reaches the other side, pushing him forward. Julian runs, and Gabriel and I trade quick glances. He understands what I chose; I can see it in his eyes.
I can fly. I’m our best bet to go last.
“Eden next,” Ever says, and I say, “There’s no time to argue. Please trust me.”
Ever hates it. I can see that in his face. But Julian’s almost to the end of the bridge, which sways, the rope growing every more stringy.
“I do,” he promises, and then he runs across.
Just as he reaches the end of the bridge, it breaks free of the walls completely. The bridge plunges into the hellfire below, disintegrating as soon as it touches the flames. Ever leaps desperately, and the guys grab him, yanking him to the side safely.
“Jump!” Lincoln shouts, his wings spreading. He’s going to fly to try to reach us, but the ceiling grinds ever lower. If he tries to fly across, he’ll be forced into the hellfire.
“No!” I shout. “I see a way out. But you guys have to move! Keep going!”
“She’s right,” Gabriel says, his hand on my shoulder. “We’ll be fine. We’ll meet up with you later.”
Our lies make them hesitate just long enough that the ceiling grinds down further. It’s too late for Lincoln to kill himself trying to save us. His face is furious with guilt and grief when he realizes.
Then the floor beneath us disappears completely, and Gabriel and I plunge downward.
