‘She’s telling the truth,’ says Raffe. ‘We come from a different time, and we came through . . . one of you.’

They all look at each other.

Raffe nods at me, and I tell them my story. I tell them a version of it that I hope is a diplomatic one – one where I don’t mention which of them was the gateway and what condition he was in when we came through. When I’m done telling them about how we got here, everyone is silent.

‘If one of us is the gateway,’ says Beliel. ‘Then that must mean that the gateway Watcher can’t leave, right?’

I drop my gaze. If we manage to get out of here, he’ll be left behind for however long it takes him to claw and connive his way out of the Pit and onto earth. I have no idea how long that will be. But it’ll obviously be long enough to kill off all decency in him.

Chapter 41

41

You’d think since we’re in the natural habitat of hellions, the place would be crawling with them. But most of them must be hiding, because we can’t find any. I’ve seen more hellions in Palo Alto than here.

Black smoke rises on hell’s horizon above one of the city ruins. I take a step onto the desert rocks near the sand, wondering how far it is to the nearest city. I have a strange urge to see the ruins. It might be an indication of what my world could be like one day.

‘Stop!’ one of the Watchers calls out just as I’m about to step onto the sand.

A hand whips out of the sand and grabs my ankle.

I scream, trying to yank my foot back. I kick the hand, but it pulls me off balance.

More hands burst out of the sand, reaching for me.

I try to scramble back, but the hand pulls me down.

I get my sword out and frantically slice.

Strong arms wrap around my waist, and a boot kicks the severed hand off my ankle, leaving maggots on my leg.

I shut my eyes and try not to squeal. ‘Get the maggots off me!’

Raffe brushes them off, but it feels like they’re still crawling on my skin.

‘So you do scream like a little girl,’ says Raffe with some satisfaction in his voice. I open my eyes a second too soon, because I catch him tossing the severed hand into the sand.

A forest of hands sprout up from the sand to grab it and tear it to pieces, fighting for the scraps.

I scoot away from squirming maggots. Raffe sees my distress and flicks them off the rock.