With an intensity bordering on panic, Beliel shoves Josiah out of the way and tries to leap out of the cage. Raffe’s hellion freaks and tries to rush the cage door, flapping madly.

I instinctively swing my blade to stop Beliel’s escape and end up skewering Beliel’s side.

As he roars, Raffe’s hellion leaps onto my sword.

It slides down the blade with Raffe gripping its leg. It disappears into Beliel.

And Raffe, still hanging on to its leg, disappears right after it.

Before I can blink, the hellion I’m holding dives down the sword as well, dragging me with it.

At first, I try to let go – Raffe’s the only one who’s supposed to go into the Pit – but the hellion still has a grip on my arm. In the split second before the hellion lets go of me, my hand slips into Beliel, and I’m falling.

I clench so tightly that I almost pull the hellion’s arm off.

We slam through Beliel’s body, and the breath gets knocked out of me. For a painful split second, the shock of going through the barrier almost tears me off my ride. But I hang on, tortured by the idea that if I’m jarred loose, I could end up in an even worse place than I might be going.

We fall through a darkness that seems endless.

I turn to see Josiah’s stunned face staring down at me through a fast-closing tunnel.

I shut my eyes, convinced that there are some things we humans aren’t meant to see. Josiah’s shocked face burns out of my mind as only one thought begins to dominate.

We are going into hell.

Chapter 35

35

This isn’t the same as the last time I went into Beliel’s memory. This time, it hurts.

Every cell in my body cries from the pain of it. Hopefully, it’s because my physical body is actually going on the trip along with my mind.

Just when I think my eyes are going to pop from squeezing them shut so tightly, we slam onto the ground.

My stomach clenches, and my chin and chest sting where they hit the ground.

No wonder the hellions were so disoriented when they landed on Angel Island. I feel like I just got rolled as flat as pizza dough and slapped onto the ground.

I also feel like I’m baking in an oven. A very stinky oven cooking rotten eggs.

I force myself to roll over and open my eyes. There’s really no time for recovery when you’ve just landed in hell.

The sky – if it is a sky – is a cracked purple black with darker blotches. The weak light throws a purple cast over the hulking shadows above me.

Edging my vision, there are faces looking down at me.