None of her business.

I hate him. I deserve better.

Cheated. They cheated me.

I blink furiously and try to clear my head, concentrate on Jeffrey, but then—

What is she doing here?

Oh, crap. I stare over Jeffrey’s shoulder, and there’s Lucy, framed in the doorway, her expression totally shocked to see me.

“You … What are you doing here?” she marches up and demands, her eyes full of fury, but her voice controlled. She slips her arm into Jeffrey’s. Just seeing her again brings the memory of that night at the Pink Garter rushing back, the fireball she hurled at us, her shriek as Christian cut Olivia down, what she vowed afterward. I swear I will kill you, Clara Gardner. And I’ll make sure you suffer first.

“Let go of him,” I say in a low voice.

Christian is suddenly by my side, staring at Lucy with fierce eyes that dare her to attack us here, like he’s reminding her that he killed her sister and he might have a glory sword with her name on it. Which makes me wonder if glory swords work in hell.

I really, really hope they do.

Lucy stares at me wordlessly, her hold on my brother’s arm tightening. I feel her hatred of me but also her fear. She wants to hurt me, to sever me in two with her blade, to avenge her sister, to earn the respect of her father, but she’s scared of me. She’s scared of Christian. Deep down, she’s a coward.

“We’re going,” Christian says. “Now.”

“I’m not going with you,” Jeffrey says.

“Shut up,” I snap. “I’m taking you out of here.”

“No,” Lucy says, her voice much calmer than what I can feel churning inside of her. “You aren’t.” She smiles at Jeffrey sweetly. “I can explain all of this, baby, I promise, but first, I have to handle something. You stay right here, okay? I have to go for a minute, but I’ll be right back. Okay?”

“Okay …,” Jeffrey agrees, frowning. He’s confused, but he trusts her.

She leans up to kiss him softly on the mouth, and he relaxes. Then she lets go of him, which kind of shocks me, that she’s releasing him without a fight. I brace myself for a sudden sorrow blade to the chest, but she brushes past me without a second look in my direction.

Then I feel what she intends to do. She’s going to the club, three blocks away. To find her father. To bring a whole world of hurt down on our heads.

She hopes that Asael will turn us all, me and Christian and Angela, to tiny piles of ash.

When she’s out of sight I turn to Jeffrey, who goes back to wiping down the table. “Jeffrey. Jeffrey! Look at me. Listen. We’re in hell. We have to go, like now, so we can catch a train out of here.”

He shakes his head. “I told you, I have to work. I can’t leave.” He moves to another empty table and starts stacking dishes.

“This isn’t the place where you work,” I say, careful to keep my voice even. “This is hell. Hades. The underworld. It looks like the pizza joint, but it’s not. It’s only a reflection of earth. This isn’t real pizza, see?” I cross to a table and grab a slice of fake pizza from the plate, hold it up next to Jeffrey’s face. It’s like a hunk of soggy cardboard, gray and textureless, dissolving in my hand. “It isn’t real. Nothing’s real here. Nothing’s solid. This is hell.”

“There’s no such thing as hell,” he murmurs, his gaze on the pizza, vaguely concerned. “It’s something church people made up to scare us.”

“Did Lucy tell you that?”

He doesn’t answer, but I see it in his eyes, the beginnings of doubt. “I can’t remember.”

“Come with me, and we’ll take a train, and everything will get clear again. I promise.”

He resists as I pull at his arm. “Lucy said that she’d be right back. She said she’d explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain,” I say to Jeffrey. “It’s simple. We’re in hell. We need to get out. Lucy’s a Black Wing, Jeffrey. She brought you here.”

He shakes his head, jaw tightening. “No. Not possible.”

Christian is pacing at the door, unwilling to wait any longer. You have to come now.

I turn to Jeffrey. “Come on, Jeffrey. Trust me. I’m your sister. I’m the only family you’ve got. We have to stick together. That’s what Mom told us, remember? Do this for me now.”

His silver eyes get mournful, and I feel behind my ever-crumbling wall how hurt he is by all that’s happened: the inexplicable vision and his failure to enact it, the way everything was always about me and never him, Dad abandoning us, Mom dying and leaving him with so many unanswered questions, everything turning to ashes right before his eyes. Everyone’s gone, and there’s nobody left for him but Lucy, and there’s something that he knows is missing in her, something important, and he doesn’t know if it’s all his fault, if it’s because he’s not the person he’s supposed to be, but he doesn’t want to lose her, too. Who am I? he thinks. Why am I here? Why do I have to hurt so much all the time? Why does it never, never get any easier?

And he wishes it would just stop.

He wishes he were dead.

“Oh, Jeffrey,” I gasp. “Don’t think that.” I throw my arms around him, my heart in my throat. “I love you, I love you,” I’m saying over and over. “And Mom loves you, and Dad loves you, he does; we all love you, silly. Don’t think that.”

“Mom’s dead. Dad’s gone. You’re busy,” he says without inflection.

“No.” I pull back and look into his eyes, tears streaming down my face. I put a hand on his cheek the way I did with Samjeeza earlier and flood him with the memory of Mom on Buzzards Roost this afternoon, hoping he can receive it, focusing on the moment when I first told her about Jeffrey, how happy she was at the very idea of him. Then I show him heaven. Mom walking into the distant light. The warmth of it. The peace. The lingering traces of love all over her.

“Don’t you see? It’s real,” I whisper.

He stares at me, a sheen of tears in his eyes.

“Let’s go home,” I say.

“Okay.” He nods. “Okay.”

All my breath leaves me in a relieved rush. We move to the door. Christian’s practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, looking all around like the very shadows are going to jump us. Over there, he says, looking to the west, to the waning light. Something’s coming.

I grab Christian’s hand, still gripping Jeffrey’s. “Come on.”

There’s the clear sound of a train whistle, high and sweet. I’ve never heard a more welcome sound in my life.

The people on the street turn toward the noise.

It’s coming. It’s almost here.

But now we’ve caught the attention of the damned. I was concentrating on Jeffrey before, not looking at the other lost souls in the pizza parlor, but they are all looking at me. Even the gray people out on the street are turning slowly toward us, their faces raised instead of bent to the ground. They look directly at us, and where their eyes should be are black, empty holes. They open their mouths, and the insides are black—their teeth are black, their tongues—and I become aware of another noise, like the buzzing of flies. Death.

Christian swears under his breath. Angela grabs Jeffrey’s hand.

One of the gray people lifts a bony finger to point at us. Then another, and another. Then they start to move in our direction.

“Run!” Angela yells, and we take off toward the train station down the middle of the street, our arms bumping and jarring as we struggle to keep holding on to one another. We can do it. We’ve only got like half a block to go, if that. We’re so close. Minutes away from safety. We can do this. We can get there.

But we don’t make it ten feet before the gray people start to pour onto the asphalt to block our way. They are lighter than real people, easier to shove back, to push past, but soon there are so many of them, too many of them now, an army of the damned between us and the station. Their fingers are cold and damp, zombielike, their hands tearing at my hoodie and then at my hair, Angela kicking and screaming and crying, Jeffrey being jerked out of my grasp. They’re all around us, on every side, moaning, yelling things in a language I don’t understand, a litany of low, guttural noises, shrieks. We’re going to be torn to pieces, I think. We’re going to die right here.