Insatiable (Inferno Games #3)

31. In Avarice

31

IN AVARICE

JULIETTE

I ’m trapped in Hell. I’ve just fought a literal Hellbeast… well, kinda. My ex-husband has died—again, for the second time—and all I can think about is Tate’s lips. Not exactly what I imagined would be occupying my thoughts right now, but here we are. It’s almost enough to distract me from the hunger gnawing at my insides. Almost. Rowena’s right, though—the hunger here hits differently. I thought Gluttony was bad, but this circle? If they don’t feed us soon, I might actually die.

Watching Dade and Tate walk is like watching a movie preview with the two main characters walking away from a massive explosion. The juxtaposition between Dade with his long black hair and giant black wings, now folded up behind him standing next to Tate with her platinum blonde hair over the white dress is something else. The contrast between them is striking, almost surreal.

And here I am, stuck in Hell, hungry as ever, obsessing over a kiss I can’t stop thinking about.

I must be going insane. Hunger has been known to do that to me. I try to look at Tate objectively. She’s... pretty. No, actually, she’s not just pretty. Quinn, Ro, and Twila are all pretty in their own ways. Tate is striking—tall and almost fae-like in that white dress. There’s something about her that demands attention. She’s attractive, sure, but am I attracted to her? I can’t be. I’ve never been into women.

I guess I fell for Tomas in school and spent the rest of my life—and death—revenge screwing my way through anyone who crossed my path because of all the hurt he caused me. Urgh, that sounds pathetic. Exactly the kind of thing Ro would raise an eyebrow at and have some wisecrack ready for. I make a mental note never to say this out loud in her presence. She’s already offered me her ridiculous advice on the matter, and I don’t need more of that nonsense.

I avert my eyes from Tate and focus on where we are, trying to make sense of the seemingly endless corridors. Maybe they’re just like the other circles, but it’s hard to tell. Everything smells of sulfur, way worse than it does upstairs, and the surroundings are dull—dull grey walls, dull grey ceiling, stretching out forever.

“Quinn better be down here,” I mutter to Ro. “And she’d better have a bacon sandwich ready to hand over to her bestie.” As if on cue, my stomach growls loudly, an obnoxious reminder of just how desperate I’m getting.

“Are we nearly there yet?” I shout out ahead of me.

Dade stops and moves his wings to show his entire back. “I think we’re about a third of the way. You’ll have to check on the map.

I stride forward, feeling self-conscious for the first time in my life. I can practically feel Tate’s eyes on me, and it sends a shiver down my spine. I don’t know where to look, so I focus on the one thing that feels safe—the map tattoo etched onto Dade’s back.

“I think we’re here,” Tate says, her finger tracing a point on Dade’s skin. “See, we passed a couple of T-junctions, which are here.” Her touch is light, but it causes his muscles to ripple under her fingertips.

“Great,” I manage to say. I glance at Tate and immediately regret it. That sly smile playing on her lips—like she’s reading my thoughts, my embarrassing, ridiculous thoughts—makes my heart race in all the wrong ways.

Turning away quickly, I head back to Ro, who’s standing a few feet away, observing the whole thing with a knowing grin. She even throws in a raised eyebrow for good measure. Seriously? Can everyone read me like an open book? Do my thoughts stand out as clearly as the map tattooed on Dade’s back?

Urgh! “Come on, let’s get going then,” I say, trying to shake off the awkwardness. “Hopefully, we’ll be there in time for breakfast.”

It takes us hours to traipse the same path we’ve already done, but in reverse. It’s only when we get near to the place where, in the upper circles, there is an elevator to the tower, that I begin to feel nervous. Thoughts of Tate and bacon drop away when Dade stills and holds a finger to his lips.

“We’re really close to the elevator, which is good, but we’re also close to the demon’s lounge, which, obviously, is really bad. We need to get up to the tower without attracting any attention.”

Tate shakes her head. “I say we go right to the Demon’s lounge.”

“What?” I stop dead, staring at Tate like she’s lost her mind. “You want to walk right into a demon’s lounge? Are you crazy?”

Tate crosses her arms, that infuriating sly smile creeping back onto her face. “Yes. It’s the fastest way, and if we keep sneaking around, we’ll be spotted, eventually. We might as well go in boldly.”

Dade shakes his head. “No. These demons will tear us apart if they catch us.”

“They are going to catch us wherever we go. You think we’ll be able to fit in with whatever the fuck’s going on in the tower. You saw what the inhabitants of Gluttony looked like. We couldn’t pass as human skeletons there and we won’t be able to pass as whatever the hell they have going on in Avarice either.”

Ro sighs dramatically, rubbing her temples like she’s already exhausted by the idea of it. “At least there they might wait five seconds to listen to our side of the story before they rip the heads off our shoulders and eat them.”

“That’s two for holding out until we are upstairs. Juliette. You get the final vote.”

“Tie goes to me,” Tate says before I have time to answer.

“Fine!” Dade grits out.

Three pairs of eyes turn to me. I know Dade is right. Getting our asses upstairs sounds a lot more fun than heading into a pit of infernal murdering assholes, and let’s be honest, there’s probably bacon upstairs too, but when I open my mouth, I can barely believe the words that fall out. “I say we do what Tate says.”

Tate licks her lips and slides her eyes over to Dade in a smug expression, before turning them to me and giving me a discrete wink that sends my tummy into a loop that has nothing to do with bacon.

Dade’s features darken, but he turns and leads us down the corridor, more than likely to our agonizing deaths.

“You literally just called her crazy for wanting to go to the lounge,” Ro whispers in my ear so that Tate and Dade can’t hear.

“Sorry,” I mumble back.

“Just remember, I’m pregnant and probably a very tasty snack right now.”

“You’re not the only tasty snack.” My eyes flicker to Tate’s retreating figure, and I immediately clamp a hand over my mouth, mortified.

Ro just shakes her head, chuckling. "Not interested, huh?"

I groan, utterly embarrassed. I need to get a grip.

“Last chance,” Dade mutters as we approach the elevator to the tower.

No one says a word as we stride silently past our final means of escape. The tension hangs thick in the air.

“That’s the door to the lounge,” Dade says, stopping about twenty feet from it. He glances back at us. “Sure you don’t want to change your minds?”

Tate stands firm. My stomach twists, but I’m not backing down now. I made my choice, and I’m going to stick to it, no matter how much my instincts are screaming to turn back.

Dade unfurls his wings, spreading them wide to shield us from the door. The dark feathers cast shadows over all of us, and I can’t help but feel grateful for the protection. But Tate, calm and unflinching, steps forward and gently presses down on one of his wings. “Dade, I know you like to think of yourself as some kind of dark protector,” she says softly, “but we’re a team. We either go in together, or we don’t go in at all.”

Dade looks like he’s about to argue—to insist that maybe we shouldn’t go in at all—when the door to the demon’s lounge swings open.

My heart plummets, and I brace myself for the inevitable, imagining that any second now, I’m going to be a demon’s next meal. But then, to my shock, a figure steps out into the dim corridor.

A shocked voice echoes down the corridor. “Dade?”

I blink in disbelief at the sight of Twila.

“Twila!” Ro gasps, darting forward and nearly knocking her over as she throws her arms around her.

Twila stands there, looking utterly bewildered as she takes in the sight of us. I can’t blame her—we must look like we’ve been through hell… which we literally have. Dade and Tate are both smeared with dried blood, and the rest of us are so worn down from walking for hours that I’m not sure I even have feeling in my feet anymore.

“What...what are you all doing here?” Twila asks, wide-eyed and visibly shaken. “Oh shit! You found a way past the Hellbeast?”

Ro nods, her weariness showing. “We made it, Twila.”

“Fuck shit,” Twila mutters under her breath, grabbing Ro’s arm and pulling her back toward the group. “You can’t be here.”

I’m beyond exhausted and in no mood for this. “Well, we are.”

Twila shakes her head, panic creeping across her face. It hits me that for all the time I spent obsessing over getting down to Avarice, I never stopped to think about what would happen once we arrived.

“They will cremate you,” she hisses. “No one gets past Satan’s guards and walks away. Do you think this is a game?”

I let out a humorless laugh. “Yes, actually, I do. This whole shitshow has been a game since we stepped foot into Hell. It’s literally called the Inferno Games, so yeah. I think it’s a game.”

“And we’re crushing it,” Tate adds, smirking. “So what if we broke a few rules? That last trial had a murderer chasing us down and decapitating people. Nobody in here follows the rules.”

Twila’s face hardens, her terror replaced with frustration. “This isn’t just a broken rule,” she snaps. “You’ve done the one thing no one should ever do. You’ve got one over on Satan.”

“Fucking great!” I say, throwing my arms in the air. “Maybe we’ll get a medal.”

Twila narrows her eyes, clearly about to fire off a retort when the door to the demon’s lounge opens again. In a split second, despite her petite frame, she manages to shove us all toward the elevator. She slams the call button with such force that I half expect it to break.

When the doors slide open, Twila ushers us inside. A tense silence hangs in the air, only broken when the elevator doors open again. “Where are we?” Ro asks, peering out.

“It’s the Earthery floor,” Twila says, her voice low and tense. “Stay close, act inconspicuously, and don’t say a word until I tell you to.”

Dade doesn’t move, his eyes locked on her with a simmering intensity. “Take me to Quinn. Now!”

Twila spins around to face him, her patience thinning. “Not now. I’m taking you to get something to eat while we figure this mess out. I need some time to think.”

His jaw clenches, unmoving. “I swore to protect her, and I couldn’t. I’m not stepping out of this elevator until I know I can see Quinn.”

Twila’s expression softens just a fraction. “Quinn is fine. She’s safely in bed. It’s not Quinn you need to worry about right now. But if you try to fly up there, I can’t stop whatever consequences might come your way. The safest thing for you to do is come with me.”

Dade presses his hand against the elevator door, holding it open, his anger and despair almost palpable. I feel it too—the desperate need to see Quinn, to see Felix. But if we push too hard, we might lose everything. I lean in closer, my voice barely above a whisper. “Quinn will never forgive you if you get yourself killed. We’ve waited for days. We can wait another hour.”

He growls low in his throat, but after a long, agonizing pause, he steps out of the elevator. The tension in the air shifts slightly, allowing me to follow him out. As I step onto the marble floor inlaid with gold, I hold my breath. Beside me, Ro whispers, “Wow,” under her breath. It’s clear this is the Earthery floor—the layout is the same as on the other levels—but here, it feels like stepping into the lobby of an exclusive hotel. A demon in a red uniform with gold braiding stands behind a sleek desk, looking oddly attentive for a change. Usually, the Earthery attendants seem bored.

We follow Twila as she walks quickly, and I can’t help but be swept away by the grandeur around us. Towering columns rise on either side, and the arched ceilings are adorned with intricate gold detailing. We’re moving past rows of shops and bars, but they’re unlike anything I’ve seen in Hell before. Inferno’s bar is in its usual spot, but a quick glance inside reveals rich mahogany paneling, gleaming gold accents, and the warm, inviting glow of a massive chandelier overhead. The scent of polished wood and expensive cologne fills the air—but then my nose catches something else. Food!

Many of the shops we pass feature the most delectable fashions, but we breeze past a patisserie, a boulangerie, and something that looks like an exclusive market. The sight of them makes my stomach churn with longing.

"I hope for Twila’s sake there’s food wherever she’s taking us,” I whisper as Ro drags me past a shop with a chocolate fountain in the window. “Otherwise, I might have to resort to eating her.”

Tate turns her head and raises an eyebrow, clearly having heard me.

Luckily, Twila saves me from dealing with my runaway mouth by stopping at the Brimstone Bistro. It’s like coming back to an old friend. It didn’t even exist in Gluttony, because there was no need for restaurants in a place that doesn’t have food.

We follow Twila inside. She holds her finger to her lips, signaling us to keep quiet. It’s not my mouth making noise. My stomach is starting to sound like bongo drums to Ro’s stomach percussion. The smell is enough to break a woman. It smells like nothing on Earth and yet I know whatever it is, I want it. I want lots of it.

“I need the VIP suite,” Twila says to the concierge with a level of confidence that takes me by surprise. “Make sure no one bothers us. And have a waiter bring us four plates of the special of the day and a couple of bottles of wine.”

I blink, trying to reconcile this commanding presence with the timid Twila I used to know. Where did she go? I guess fucking a literal Hell God has done wonders for her self-esteem.

The room at the back is so dark, I’m barely able to find a seat on the deep red velvet couch that runs along the length of a huge mahogany table. I don’t know how they did it, but there’s already place settings for four on the table. Even more amazingly, four plates of food, piping hot, at each place setting. "You may as well eat before they kill you all," Twila says, sliding into the head of the table—a chair that can only be described as a throne. I look around at the opulence, feeling like I’ve stumbled into the realm of royalty. So this is how the other half lives. Tate throws some of the meat from her plate to each of Cerby’s heads. I grimace as they lap it up, drool dripping from each of them. I glance at Twila, who isn’t bothering with a plate. I guess she’s already eaten—or maybe she’s just too preoccupied with our impending doom. Not that I care. My stomach’s about to crawl out of my throat if I don’t eat soon.

The moment the food touches my tongue, I let out a contented sigh. It's a thin slice of meat, though I wouldn’t be able to tell you what animal it came from, even for a million dollars. Whatever it is, it's like an edible orgasm. As if on cue, Tate lets out a low grown which is nothing short of sexual, sending my stomach flipping again, but this time not because of the food.

I can’t look at her. I don’t want to. I have enough going on without adding my sexuality into the mix.

“I need to see Quinn,” Dade says, his voice steady, though he doesn’t touch the food in front of him. I’m impressed. After weeks of starving, I don’t know how he can just sit there without devouring everything.

“I already told you. That’s not possible right now,” Twila replies, her distress clear. She keeps shaking her head as if she can’t believe what’s happening. “I can’t believe you’re here. Hades is going to be pissed.”

Dade leans forward, his eyes focused on her. “What do you suggest we do?”

Twila grabs a bottle of wine and pours herself a generous glass. Without thinking, I grab the bottle next, pouring myself a drink before offering it to Ro. She glances at me and pats her stomach, reminding me she’s pregnant.

“The baby’s survived weeks without food. Surely it deserves a drink?” I joke lamely.

“I could use a drink,” Tate says, reaching for the bottle. A jolt of electricity runs through me as she takes it from my grasp, her smile indulgent. I don’t know how to feel about that, so I redirect my attention back to Twila. I’m sure Dade just asked her something important, but I’ve already forgotten what it was.

Twila shrugs. “I don’t know. As far as I’m aware, no one has ever descended a circle via the main elevator without prior consent from his highness.”

“His highness?” I echo, confusion creeping in.

“Satan,” she whispers hurriedly, glancing around the dimly lit room as if we’re being watched.

“Does it really matter? We made it here. I’m sure Satan will unleash even worse beasts or traps to prevent us from doing it again. It’s not like we actually escaped Hell; we just moved down a circle.”

“Yes, but by doing that, you’ve undermined the Inferno Games, making them almost pointless, and exposed cracks in Satan’s supposedly infallible domain.”

“It’s not that infallible if we could get through with nothing more than a few scraps of fabric,” Tate chimes in, popping a cherry tomato into her mouth. I swallow hard at the sight of her.

“Don’t you see how that makes it worse?” Twila sighs. “If you had somehow passed it by fighting to the death?—”

“Which you said was impossible,” I remind her. “And you’ll be pleased to know that I gave up on the idea of seducing it to get past.”

Tate snickers from across the table.

“Anyway,” I press on, trying to ignore Tate’s laughter, “you were the one who told us only an angel could pass it. We just dressed Dade up in white and the beast capitulated. If you think about it, this is kind of your fault.”

Twila buries her head in her hands, and I suddenly realize I might have pushed her too far when I see her shoulders shaking.

Ro looks at me as though I’m somehow to blame. I was only speaking the truth.

She reaches out and takes Twila’s hand in hers.

“No one has to know you helped us. We won’t tell anyone, right?” She looks around the table, and everyone nods in agreement. But it doesn’t really matter. If what Twila said is true, we’re all going to be toast in a few hours, anyway.

Dade clears his throat. “I have no desire to get you in trouble, Twila, but you have access to Hades. He helped us before. Is there any chance he could help us again?”

“Hades isn’t a monster. He helped you last time because you saved me. Plus, one of his very own demons was plotting against the games, and he was furious. This time, he has no reason to save you. You’ve disobeyed his rules. He may be lenient, but I can’t make any promises.” She sighs. “Facing him is your only chance here. You’re going to have to win him over.”

“Can’t you just hide us?” I ask.

“I’m pretty sure the Inferno Games leadership already knows you’re here. I’ve come to know demons, and most of them are gossips. The concierge would have rushed down to the demon level the moment we arrived at the Brimstone Bar.”

I scan the dark room for another exit, but it’s so shadowy I can barely see the far walls. “We should go and hide now, then,” I insist, rising to my feet. I pick up my half-eaten plate of food. I might be running for my life, but I’m not leaving food behind.

“Then what?” Twila asks.

“Then we get to survive, that’s what.”

Dade looks up at me, and I can tell he’s about to drop some dark, profound wisdom that I probably don’t want to hear. “If we hide here and Quinn and the others make it to the next circle, we’re no better off than we were in Gluttony.”

“Have you tasted this food?” I retort, holding up my plate.

“You won’t get back to the main elevator again. Satan might have been beaten by you once, but he won’t allow it to happen again.”

I slump back down, placing my plate on the table and folding my arms defiantly. “So we just give up and die, then?” I pout.

“I’ll take you to Hades,” Twila says, “but he’s not the only one you’ll need to win over. There’s also Ballam and…”

“Anthura,” Ro finishes for her.

There’s a moment of silence around the room. No one knows more than Ro how unlikely it is for Anthura to be on her side… on any of our sides. Anthura hates like it’s an Olympic sport, but she holds a special place in her cold dead heart for Rowena who dared to sleep with her plaything.

It’s a somber mood when a demon waiter tries to wrestle my food away from me, only succeeding when I realize he’s trying to give me dessert.

“At least when I die, I’ll die happy,” I muse, taking a bite out of the dessert which tastes somewhere between chocolate fudge cake and heaven.

We all eat quietly. Partly because there is nothing else to say and partly because the food is too delicious to waste by talking. Eventually, we all finish and there’s nothing left for us to do. We have to go face the Leadership Team of the Inferno Games and let them decide our fates.