Mabel eyed a sleeping Zephyrine warily. "And you're sure she's fine?" she asked the other two, fingers tapping an absent rhythm against her thighs.

Nephele shook her head with a frustrated grunt. "Besides being a bit foolish? Yes, she's fine. However, her staying asleep is not good in regard to this medicine. Her aura . . ." she shivered, sharing a secretive glance with Thora, "It has grown dark. Beings from Hell," she motioned to herself and Thora. "Those of us under Death's direct jurisdiction, anyway—we have been protected by ancient magic to keep pure wickedness out of our souls. In order to purge evil, if necessary, our bodies will hibernate until we are of our own free will once more."

"'Free will'?" Mabel echoed, her eyes growing wide. "Like . . . possession? I was right?"

"If you thought that wicked beings are possessing important earthly officials and then using their position to weave pure evil into your medicine, thus infecting the majority of the population with wicked intentions, then yes, you were right." Thora piped up, her worried gaze never straying from Zephyrine.

"What can we do about it?" Mabel asked, hugging herself tightly, a chill seeping into her bones even in the heated room.

A part of her mind told her that the solution wouldn't come without consequences.

Nephele's sigh was answer enough. "Unfortunately, until we can close the Door to Hell, this continued stream of wickedness will continue, even if we were to harvest the evil that has already contaminated Earth."

Ignoring the blasé attitude about harvesting evil, Mabel rolled her neck, feeling a hundred years old suddenly. "Alright. Okay." She scrubbed a hand over her face, leaning against the bedroom doorway for support. "Next question: Will Zephyrine get better quicker if she's in Hell? I know I can't last long down there, and surely you guys aren't supposed to be up here forever, right? That's why you take turns, isn't it?"

Another glance went between the two ala next to Mabel. Thora nodded slowly. "She would, but one of us would have to go with her, and you—"

"Will be fine with just you or Nephele." At their disbelieving gazes, Mabel groaned. "Oh, come on! I'll be fine! If I still have one of you, it'll be great. Nothing's been happening, anyway."

Thora seemed to be seriously considering it, but Nephele remained skeptical. "Mabel," she warned, "you are in more danger than ever at this point. No doubt that if you continue digging—which I know you will—the evil responsible will be after you. If this darkness has enough power to do this, then it could defeat me easily. With two of us, there is a better chance."

"And it would be even better with three," Mabel argued, "But Zephyrine won't be up for anything if she's here. Let Thora take her back to Hell, and once she's better they can come back. Nephele, it will be fine."

Nephele's tail skittered against the wall with anxious energy. "Fine," she conceded. "But we will stay in this apartment, Mabel. No leaving, no antics, and no reckless behavior."

"Yes, yes, of course," Mabel agreed immediately, holding up one hand in what she hoped was the Girl Scout's symbol, "Scout's honor."

Nephele rolled her eyes, while Thora smiled. "Thank you, Mabel. I will take Zephyrine back to Hell immediately." The smaller ala turned and hugged her sister. "We will be reunited soon, Nephele."

"Yes. Be safe, Thora."

"You as well."

Mabel wasn't sure why, but it sounded like they were saying their final goodbyes.

***

Mabel gazed on with concern as Nephele paced (floated? How did one describe the movements of serpent-women?) around the apartment for the twelfth time. "Nephele," she broached carefully, "are you okay?"

Nephele's lips lifted in what was probably supposed to be a comforting smile, but was more like a pained grimace. "Much is not right, Mabel. The world outside grows darker, and I fear the consequences."

Mabel bit her lips, hands fisting her sweater. "Am I in danger, Nephele? You said it earlier like it was a possibility, but the way you're acting . . . it seems more like fact."

Nephele stopped pacing in front of the kitchen sink, pulling away the blinds and peering out the window. When she turned to face Mabel, her eyes were dark. "Mabel," she croaked, "you need to leave."

Taking a shaky step backwards, her eyes flicking to the drawer where she knew Lucy kept her spare gun, Mabel swallowed down the bile she felt rising in her throat. "What are you talking about? Nephele? What's going on?"

Nephele released a choked yell, bending forward and gripping the counter with both hands. "Leave." She grunted. "Now, Mabel!" the counter cracked under her sharp nails, and Mabel didn't need to be told again.

Seizing Lucy's gun, Mabel flung open the door and darted into the building's main hallway.

"Holy shit," she breathed, her knuckles white against the weapon.

The lights flickered above, outlining the many bodies in the hall—some standing, others lying on the floor in puddles of blood.

They were people, or they had been once.

Their eyes were blood red pools, their mouths lifted in chilling smiles, and Mabel wondered when exactly her life had turned into a horror movie.

A woman leaning against the wall turned to face her, cocking her head to the side, her red eyes considering Mabel carefully. When the woman smiled hungrily, Mabel spun around and took off in the other direction.

She flew down the stairwell, grateful that it was empty, and skidded to a halt outside. If the apartment building had been bad, the outside world was even worse.

The sky was a mix of dark grey and black clouds, as though the world itself was on fire and smoke had colored the air. The atmosphere hung heavy with death, and the cries and moans of the dying filling Mabel's ears with a song she never wanted to hear again.

"Okay, calm down," she ordered herself quietly, spinning around in a circle to get an idea of her surroundings, her fingers numb against the gun.

She couldn't trust any of these people; if they weren't possessed yet, then it would surely happen soon enough. Without Nephele, she had no other protection, or any idea of where Hell's Door was and—with it—Aleron.

Maybe the whole reason this is all happening is because Aleron's already dead, the stupidly cynical part of her mind spoke up.

Mabel crushed the thought immediately.

Aleron wasn't dead. He couldn't be. She would know if he was.

Right?

Pushing aside the terrifying thought, she refocused on the goal at hand. If the world around her was slowly turning into Hell, then surely it wouldn't be too hard to find the entrance. After all, the Door had to be open at this point, if the amount of screaming was any indication.

"Right. Find the Door, find Hell, find Aleron." Settling into her resolve, Mabel started forward, eyes doing a continuous sweep of the city streets, senses on overdrive.

Ducking between two guys that appeared to be getting ready to fight, she started to jog, looking over her shoulder every few seconds to ensure no one was following.

She'd only gone five blocks when a quick glance behind her made her stomach clench with fear.

Nephele, wings spread, teeth bared and snake tongue hissing, was racing after her.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me!" Mabel moaned, pushing her legs to go faster.

It was no use though: A serpent-women with wings would beat out a mortal who never went to the gym without much trouble. Finally stopping when her ribs felt like they would snap, Mabel cursed when she realized that she was by the drawbridge that led away from the city, and—with her luck—the stupid drawbridge was up, meaning she was trapped. Nephele realized this too, if the sick grin on her face and the slowing of her approach was any indication.

Eyes flickering between Nephele and Lucy's gun, Mabel finally understood what the saying "caught between a rock and a hard place" really meant. There was no getting out of this situation; either she would die, or Nephele would.

But no, Mabel's heart protested. This is Nephele, we know Nephele.

Not this version of her, the realistic portion of her brain responded.

Raising the gun with arms that quivered with every harsh breath she took, Mabel took aim for Nephele's left wing.

"Stop!" She called, inwardly surprised with how steady her voice was. "Leave me alone, Nephele! I'll shoot you!"

A dark cackle filled the air, sending shudders down Mabel's spine. "As if you could, tiny human. I dare you to try. You are too—what did Aleron say—oh yes, pure," she spat the word, "to do something so volatile."

"Nephele," Mabel pleaded, lips trembling with the urge to cry. "Please, stop! Don't make me do this!"

Nephele's smile only widened, and she licked her lips as she darted forward.

Mabel pulled the trigger twice, a small sense of relief overtaking her senses when Nephele's wings gave out, leaving the serpent-woman balanced on her tail and hissing angrily.

The relief quickly dried up when Mabel realized that the clouds were growing darker, thunder crackling and lightning sparking directly above her. "Try again," Nephele goaded, "Let's see what happens."

A bolt of lightning slammed into the ground mere feet from Mabel and she jumped, her entire body spasming with the burst of electricity. "Oh, crap," she breathed as the gun slipped from her fingers, stumbling forward as her legs quaked.

Nephele slammed into her in the next moment, and the pair fell to the ground, Mabel groaning when her head hit the pavement. She moved her hands in front of her face, releasing a pained yell when Nephele's claws tore over her right arm.

They struggled for what felt like hours, Nephele attempting to bite Mabel's neck and release her venom, while Mabel dodged as best she could.

Growing more tired by the second, Mabel almost sobbed with relief when she felt a metallic object pushing into her hip.

The gun.

She rolled onto her front, fingers closing around the gun just as Nephele sank her teeth into Mabel's neck. With a choked gasp, Mabel reached around and fired, shooting Nephele once, twice, three times, again and again until she was sure the ala was dead.

The only thing Mabel heard was the ringing in her ears for several beats, before reality caught up with her once more.

"Oh, God," she moaned, pushing Nephele's limp body off her own and sitting up with a grimace. Twisting her head to the side, she clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a scream.

She had just killed Nephele. "Nephele," she croaked, reaching over and placing a hand on the ala's slack face, "Oh, Nephele, I am s-so sorry." But there was no time to mourn. The world was still engulfed in its own personal Hell, and she had to try and stop it before the senseless killings continued.

"Come on, Mabel," she urged, pushing herself off the road with difficulty, tripping twice as she shuffled forward, "Just a little longer. Then you can nap."

With one last, sorrowful look at Nephele's body, Mabel continued onward.

***