Grave Mistakes (Hellgate Guardians #1)(26)

My waffle is already dangerously close to overflowing with syrup, and now they want to add fix-the-gate whipped cream? “Wait, wait, wait, wait,” I say, swinging my scythe back and forth in my hand. “Gate as in the cemetery gate or gate as in…”

“The Hellgate,” Jerif supplies matter-of-factly. Like me helping to fix whatever is wrong with the damn gate to literal Hell is mundane.

I start laughing. Probably slightly hysterically, but there it is. I answered a Help Wanted ad, for fuck’s sake. How did this shit happen to me? “Oh, sure. I’ll just sort out the Gate to Hell for you guys. No biggie. Should I do that before or after I resurrect some corpses from the graveyard and turn into a werewolf under the full moon?”

Crux tilts his head. “Shit, you can do that?”

I give him an exasperated look, but Echo smirks. “I believe she was being sarcastic.”

Crux looks a bit disappointed. “Oh.”

I shake my head, because this is just way too fucking much. “Alright. I should go. I think I’ll go. I’m just gonna go,” I ramble, beginning to head toward the door.

I’m blocked by Iceman before I can make it even two steps. “Let us explain.”

I know I’m just going to hear a bunch of shit that I don’t want to deal with, but it’s obvious that they’re going full Gandalf and aren’t going to let me pass. I cross my arms in front of me and plant my feet. “Okay, then. Explain.”

He hesitates for a moment, those icy-blue eyes of his locked on my face. “The fact that you were able to answer the job ad means that you’re Hell-touched,” he tells me.

“Uhh, I’m pretty sure that if Hell felt me up, I would’ve known,” I counter, making two of the others snicker.

“You’re not just Hell-touched,” Iceman goes on. “You’re not a Diluted, which means you’re not a mostly human, watered-down demon. You’re not an Outer Ring demon either, because if you were, you wouldn’t be able to see us. So you’re powerful. That makes you an Inner Ring demon like us.”

“Explain the Rings,” I demand.

“There are five Rings of Hell,” he says patiently. “The two Outer Rings, four and five, are made up of less powerful demons. The Rings are called Quattour and Quīnque. Those Ringers are the demons we usually get to fill this position. That, or Diluted, but those don’t usually last even a week. They’re too watered down with human blood to help sustain the Gate, so we’ve been trying not to bring in Diluted anymore unless we absolutely have to.”

“Okay,” I say slowly, trying to chew on the information. “And you think I’m a demon from a more powerful Ring?”

Iceman nods. “Inner Ring demons—the more powerful of our kind—can ward themselves to be invisible to humans and to the Outers. It’s a defense mechanism mostly. Because while we’re powerful, the Outer Ringers far surpass us in numbers. There’s a lot of jealousy and bullshit, so it’s normal for us to ward ourselves so we don’t have to deal with them. Usually, we don’t ever show ourselves to the fifth we hire for the Gate except during initiation. We just use their power to help sustain the Hellgate.”

I blink, trying to keep up with all of this information being slung my way like shit from a shovel. “So what do you think I am?” I ask.

“At the very least, we think you’re from the Third Ring—a Trēs. But you could be a Duo or an ūnus as well.”

“Or a Nihil,” Crux cuts in.

Jerif groans, shooting the surfer dude a look. “She can’t be a fucking Nihil,” he snaps.

“Why not?” I ask curiously.

“Because. A Nihil is the most powerful of our kind. Nihil is the very beginning and core to the Rings. Only Lucifer and the other Abdicated are Nihils.”

“Regardless of what you are, this is a good thing,” Echo cuts in. “It means we can finally sustain the Gate properly.” He watches me from where he’s propped up against the wall, his body slunk against the only shadows still in the room.

“What does that mean?”

“It used to only take the four of us to sustain the Gate, but about a year ago, it started requiring more power to manage it. We’ve been bringing in demons to help, but we haven’t been able to find a fifth who could…” Iceman trails off.

“Who could what?” I press.

“Not die,” Crux answers way too nonchalantly for my taste.

“Wait a fucking minute,” I say, holding up my hand. “Are you telling me that you hired me because all of the others in my position died?”

His eyes skate uneasily to the side before settling back on my face. “Yes.”

“Oh fucking hell,” I curse, running a hand down my face.

“See?” Jerif says. “She can’t fucking handle it.”

“I’m handling it!” I snap over my shoulder at him.

He rolls his eyes.

“What if she’s a Gatekeeper?” Crux declares randomly.

“A what?” I ask at the same time Jerif and Echo groan.

Crux shakes his head at them. “Come on! Look at her! She has a fucking scythe! Who do we know that used to carry scythes…? Gatekeepers!”

Echo, Jerif and Iceman look at Crux like they’re not seeing the connections he’s so passionately making. Crux looks at them incredulously and gestures to me.