"Did you know about this?" I ask Aeneas, ignoring Aurora's boasting about being correct regarding Kara's species.

My friend shakes his head. "When you disappeared they told me to stay where I was and—"

"There you are!" Aksel's voice almost makes me jump. "Where have—? Virgil?"

"Aksel!" I smile at him, perhaps a tad too widely. "What are you doing here?"

"Me?" He blinks. "What are you doing here? You two ran off after this cat and vanished."

"Mister Mistoffelees is mine, actually," Virgil says, quick on his feet. "I've been looking for him and the ladies returned him to me. Isn't that right, kitty?"

He pets Kara. She, for her part, looks like she's plotting the slowest and most painful way to murder him. Again.

"Meow," she says, not even bothering to sound like the species or sex she's pretending to be.

"Oh, so mad that you got caught," Virgil scratches her behind the ear. "Aren't you, kitty?"

I don't think she means to close her eyes in bliss and purr, but she does.

"I didn't know you had a cat," Aksel says.

"I just got him the other day."

"And he's running away already?"

"What can I say? Not all poets are good cat owners."

Kara uses that moment to chomp on him.

"Ouch!" he yanks his finger away, glaring at her and nursing his wound. "Case in point."

Aksel looks perplexed from Virgil to the cat then to me. I shrug. He looks at Virgil again.

"You get weirder every day," he says to the poet. "Honestly man you need to— holy shit, Aeneas?!"

All eyes turn to the man, the myth, the legend in question. His eyes go wide in apprehension and a smile forms slowly on his mouth. The wave he gives is no faster. "Um... Hi?"

"What the hell are you doing here?" Aksel folds his arms. "Pun intended."

"Oh, I'm just..." he looks at me. "Just here for moral support, heh."

Aksel raises an eyebrow. "And they just let you in here?"

"Um..." he smiles a smile that would have him sweating if he still could. "I asked nicely?"

Aksel blinks and stares blankly at my friend for a while. A long, long while. I should ask Kara what happens when Hades's plan fails. I have a feeling our days are numbered.

"Virgil, what the fuck?" Aksel finally snaps.

"What did I do?" The poet's voice goes up an octave. Like I said. Numbered.

"You honestly expect me to believe someone as bad at lying as he is good at getting his holes stuffed?"

"Hey!" Aeneas snaps. "I'm better at getting my holes stuffed, thank you very much."

"Aeneas," I groan. "Please stop talking."

"You brought him in," Aksel barrels on to Virgil. "Didn't you? I thought you had a code! I couldn't get any help until I got to the second circle! What gives?"

"Relax, mate," Aurora says. "We found a loophole; you didn't. Too bad, so sad. Can we move on?"

"A loophole?"

"Technically, Aeneas isn't alive," Virgil says. "Besides, I was his parents' muse. How, please pray tell, dare I refuse?"

"Wait, really?" Aeneas raises an eyebrow.

"You didn't know?"

"I mean, 'Aeneas' was a common name."

"And why was it so?"

"Because of you, I guess, but—"

"Exactly. Next."

Aeneas opens his mouth to speak but I pinch him. When he glares at me, I glare back. At least it shuts him up.

"You're unbelievable," Aksel shakes his head at Virgil then looks to Maria. "And you? Who are you?"

"She's with me," Aurora says.

"'Withme' is a funny name."

"Maria," Maria says. "Not that I owe you my identity or anything."

Aksel glares at her for a long moment.

"Who cut your hair?" He says. "Stevie Wonder?"

Now she glares at me and I try with every fibre of my being not to burst out laughing. Even Aurora suppresses a smile. Aeneas and Virgil, meanwhile, have no humility and absolutely lose it.

"I'm glad you haven't changed in that regard," Aeneas tells Aksel. "Welcome to the boys' club, Aksel."

"Oh, Lucretia told you all about me, has she? Don't hold your breath, I still like girls."

I don't miss the smirk he gives me. That's very good to know.

"Worth a shot," Aeneas shrugs.

"Anyways," Aksel looks at Virgil. "Bygones are bygones. It was centuries ago and I can just ask Socrates in Circle Two if I really want to see anyone, which I don't. Now, are we partying or what?"

"Partying?" Aeneas perks up and turns to me, and then his face falls.

I heard everything. I really did. But I can't move. There's a breeze in my open mouth. I'm honestly surprised I haven't pissed myself.

"Oh, no," Aeneas breathes. "Aksel, what have you done?"

"Who? Me?"

"What's wrong with you?" Aurora flashes before me and shakes me by the shoulders. "Oi, Earth to Cunt!"

Aeneas spins me around and grabs me by the arms, looking me in the eyes.

"Lucretia," he says steadily. "Breathe. In and out. Come on."

I breathe in.

"Oh no," Aeneas says, pressing his palms to either side of his head. "Cover your ears, y'all!"

I fill my lungs with air, my mouth shaking like a baby's when it sobs.

Then I let out a squeal that could probably kill a small squirrel.

"Jesus!" Aksel swears. Somewhere a cat growls.

"Holy shit!" I flap my hands like a bird's wings and hop up and down. "Holy shit holy shit holy shit!"

I woosh to Aksel who cringes, hands still covering his ears. I put mine on his shoulders.

"Did you say Socrates?" I shake him. "As in, Sōkrátēs? The founder of Western philosophy? Drank poison? That Sōkrátēs?"

"Yes, yes, damn woman calm down!" Aksel slaps my hands away. "What's wrong with you?"

"Oh my gods," I breathe and fan myself, then bend over my knees and press a hand to one. "Oh my gods I'm gonna actually die. Oh my gods oh my gods oh my gods—"

"You're pathetic," Aurora says. "You know that, right?"

"Shut the fuck up," I straighten and snap at her. "Do you have any idea what kind of an opportunity this is? He never wrote anything down; everything we know about him comes from Plato. He's one of the most important and influential people to ever exist and we get the chance to talk to him and see what he really thinks! It's a once-in-an-eternity opportunity, Rory!"

"Rory?" Maria and Aeneas say in unison. I ignore them.

Aurora snorts. "You're just fangirling over some human who happens to be smarter than most."

"Yes! And?"

"And," Aksel butts in. "I think we can channel all that energy into something healthier than rupturing all of our eardrums. Like dancing."

"Meow!" Kara wails incessantly.

"Alright, alright," Virgil picks her up despite her hissing and spitting. "I'll take you home, Mister Mistoffelees. You go on ahead, everyone, I'll catch up. Limbo, right?"

Aksel nods.

Kara writhes in Virgil's arms. He holds her far from his face. She bunny-kicks his hands and bites his fingers. He hisses in pain.

"Are you sure you're gonna be okay?" Aksel raises an eyebrow.

"I'll be fine," the poet says through gritted teeth. "She'll calm down. Go on, everyone! I don't wanna keep you!"

The meaning behind his tone and glare is clear. Leave before he starts asking questions and before I run out of skin on my hands.

"Right," I nod. "Let's get going. Lead on, Aksel."

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

The place we end up before is plain and unassuming; a building no different than the two-storied things surrounding it.

"Why's it called Limbo?" Maria asks as Aksel leads us down the back alley.

"Ask whoever named it when they built this thing," he shrugs.

"You don't know?"

"I'm not that old."

"Wait," I stop and look the building over. Everyone turns to me. "You mean this is... Limbo? Like, actual Limbo? Not just a name?"

"Of course," Aksel nods. "Why would you think it isn't?"

"Because a nightclub is not what comes to mind when we think about dead babies?" Aurora says.

Aksel shakes his head. "Damn Catholics. This is why we can't have nice things."

"Hey, that's a Taylor Swift reference," Maria says.

None of us deign her with a response.

"Nobody knows what Limbo was made for," Aksel explains as he leads us into the building and down the stairs. "It's been so damn long and nobody could agree on its purpose. A place for good-doing nonbelievers in the gods, a place for those not good enough for heaven but not bad enough for hell, yadda yadda. Then the Catholics came with the whole unbaptized baby thing, and then they decided they didn't believe that, actually, and it confused everyone even more. So Euripides just said fuck it and turned it into a nightclub."

"Euripides?" I blink. "Like, the playwright? He's here?"

"Yup," Aksel pops the P. "He's kinda the owner of Limbo as we know it."

"Leave it to the queers and their allies," Aeneas says.

We stop before a black iron door which Aksel hammers with his fist.

"Follow my lead," he tells us before a slit opens and two glowing red eyes appear.

"What stinks more than a gallon of thioacetone?" a deep voice booms.

"Aristophanes's balls."

The slit slams shut and chains rattle behind the door before it swings open to reveal a giant oaf of a smoke-skinned demon.

"Welcome in," he says.

Yeah, this checks out.

Aksel leads us down a dimly lit hallway, the iron door swinging shut behind us and a clatter of chains accompanying the reverberating bass ahead. It gets louder as we enter a space bathed in red. Booths line the walls, demons and humans occupying each one. Some have stripper poles in the centre of their table, succubi and incubi gyrating on them. In the centre is a half-empty dance floor, on the right is the DJ's booth, ahead is a curtained archway, and on the left is a bar. At the bar is Wolfgang who waves at us.

"Hey! You finally made it!" He looks at mine and Aurora's chests. "And you're dressed for the occasion, wonderful!"

Right. That fucking demon cat. At least we're not out of place here.

"Aeneas!" Wolfgang embraces him. "Holy shit, it's been ages! Where were you?"

We sit at the bar and Aksel explains everything while I look around as the place fills up. It's not bad, as far as clubs go. My eyes land on the far corner where a woman is pretending to be a shish kebab, the skewer being an imaginary one connected to one man's cock in her mouth and another in her... I think that's her vagina? Anyways. Eiffel tower. You get the picture.

"Is this a sex club?" I ask as I spot a man blowing another man against a wall.

"Not necessarily," Wolfgang says. "But it's Hell. Who cares?"

"Touché," I say as the bartender—a platinum-haired vampire with dark-coloured lips, sharp fangs, and a chest you can bury yourself in—serves us our shots. I tell myself not to stare, but it's Hell; who cares? She, for her part, winks at me.

"Alright," Aksel yells over the music, "to reunions and new acquaintances!"

My eyes meet Aurora's as we clink our shot glasses. This is how you know I'm in Hell; I won't be caught dead drinking with her back home. I make sure she knows that with the glare I give her, and she glares back. Glad we're on the same page.

I throw the shot back and the sheer agony of that burn travels down my esophagus like lava. I slam the emptied thing on the table, cough, and shudder in my seat.

"What the fuck is this?!" Aeneas and I yell out in unison.

"Some kind of hellish torture method?" Aurora croaks as Maria coughs.

"We call it Devilshine," Aksel claps Maria on the shoulder. "Puts some hair on your chest, eh?"

It sure fucking does. My whole body feels like it's on fire, and I've had twenty-two hundred years to develop a strong head for alcohol.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Maria burps, "I hate it here."

Aurora shudders, then Maria adds, "That's a Taylor Swift reference."

Wolfgang and Aksel laugh.

"You'll be fine," Wolfgang says. "You'll get a taste for it pretty quickly."

Well, one thing's for sure, it doesn't take long to start getting to your head. I feel giddy already.

"Yo, Axe!" A lanky sniffling demon approaches Aksel. "You-uh... you wanna hook your boy up?"

"How much are we talking?" Aksel leans on one elbow.

"I got fifty," he sniffs.

"That barely gets you half a molar, kid. I'm not cutting it here."

"It's cool, just add it to my tab or whatever."

A pause.

"You already owe me close to a thousand on that tab, Slim," Aksel's voice resonates with something sinister.

"Oh, come on, Axe! You got, like, an infintinimle supply! Who cares, anyhow?"

"I'm not mutilating myself for a junkie unless they pay. You especially."

"But you can grow 'em back!"

"Pay me what you owe me. Until then, scram."

"But—"

"I said scram."

Aksel's eyes go dark and veins bulge on his face. The boy, Slim or whatever his name is, cowers and backs away. I can almost see a literal tail between his legs as he books it.

"Sorry, guys," Aksel says as his veins retreat. "I should've known he'd be here."

"I don't think that guy is ever paying you back, mate," Aurora says.

"I know," Aksel sighs. "But I'm the only one who still sells to him. If he doesn't get it from me, maybe he can—no! For fuck's sake!"

He stretches his arms as if trying to grab something in the distance. My eyes follow and I see the vampire bartender exchanging fifty obsidian shards for her tooth with the boy.

"Sorry, Axe," she says in a voice sweet like apple pie as she approaches us. "He said he'd get that synthetic shit if I didn't give him any."

"He wouldn't, Slim's afraid of his own shadow," he sighs again. "Your soft streak is gonna get him into even deeper shit, Francesca."

"Well, there's my answer," A voice in my ear makes me jump. It's Aurora. Maria-less.

"What?" I snap at her.

"Our teeth, that's why they need them. Drugs."

"Okay..." I exchange a glance with Aeneas beside me as the rest continue their argument. "Congratulations. Why should I care?"

Her face falls before coming back up in that agonizing fake smile that I want nothing but to shatter.

"Never mind that," she says. "I need the ladies' room. Come with me?"

"I'd rather down a bottle of Devilshine thank you very much."

She yanks my arm and glares at me pointedly.

"Please," she says through gritted teeth as she shifts her eyes between me and the rest of our company. "I need you to come along with me. We can talk, perhaps."

"I'd still rather down a bottle of Devilshine," I yank my arm back. "But fine."

"I'm gonna pray to Hades and hope there are no priceless stained-glass windows in there," Aeneas says.

"Hilarious," I tell him and follow Aurora to a corner behind the bar, past two blood-soaked women sixty-nining on the floor. Thankfully, the bathrooms are individual rooms.

Or maybe not so thankfully because those rooms are so tiny that I'm almost pressed against her inside one. The moans and unmistakable rhythmic slaps of flesh on flesh around us aren't helping. I feel heat rise between my legs as I am, once again, forced to look at her see-through bra.

"What do you want?" I say, tearing my eyes off of it and trying my best to cross my arms in this tight space.

"Look," she says, leaning against the wall in a clear attempt to create space between us. All that does is force her damn chest out. "You and I don't like each other."

"Someone give her a medal of honour," I say to the sound of a woman's orgasm, "she figured it out."

Aurora glares at me and takes a shuddering inhale, eyes flicking to my chest and back.

"But," she says when the man quiets down. "We have to work together."

"I haven't decided if I want to work together. I still have a way out and might use it."

"This from the one who almost cost me my ears at the sound of Socrates's name? Please, you won't leave until we get to him at least."

A man ejaculates somewhere.

"That doesn't mean I'll work with you."

"Come on, Lucy, we can help people. Even you aren't that heartless."

I blink. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She looks away from me as if she said too much. I can't help but feel the stab of a knife in my heart. A small, dull one, but a stab nonetheless. We've called each other many things, but heartless has never been one of them.

"What do you mean, Aurora?" I repeat.

Maybe I'm imagining it, but I swear her eyes go soft for a fraction of a second before she smirks. "If I only knew eons ago that it was this easy to push your buttons..."

I'm so glad that I don't have a beating heart because this bitch would probably drive my blood pressure up so high that the red stuff would leak out of my ears.

"Did you have a point in calling me here, or do you just like to insult me to the background noise of an orgy?" I glare at her.

"My point," she snaps, "Is that you can do something here. Help a lot of people."

"And then what? You heard Hades, even they don't know what to do with all the souls after we're done."

"We'll think of something. Anything is better than eternal damnation."

I squint at her to the sound of a bang against the wall and a woman moaning the affirmative in various loud languages. One of them, oddly enough, is Coptic.

"And since when have you gotten so altruistic?" I put my hands on my hips. "Or is it the promise of godhood that's got you all hot and bothered?"

She steps away from the wall, toward me. She's close enough in this tight space that I can feel her breath on me, close enough for our breasts to almost touch. Her glare burns hotter than what this place is known for.

"Has your thick skull considered that it's both?" She asks me. Her quiet voice is almost a whisper in this mess of moans, slaps, and yells of ecstasy, but I can hear it loud and clear in our small space.

"I fucking hate you, Lucretia Aemelia," she snarls, dragging her words like an executioner drags an axe across the stone. "I despise every inch of your miserable existence, but I care enough to be civil with you and help them. Can you say the same for yourself? Don't presume to think you know what has and hasn't gotten me hot and bothered, you miserable whore."

I look right into those eyes full of fire and malice. And I smile.

"Oh, no," I put my hands up. "Someone help me, I'm shivering in my shoes."

I slam her against the wall hard enough to crack it and hold her by the shoulders.

"Listen here, Mother Fucking Teresa," I growl at her. "Everything you just said? Right back at you. I hate your face. I hate your voice. I hate the way you talk and the very ground you walk on. But, mostly, I hate you. And I don't believe for a single second that you want to work with someone who detests you as much as I do, much less someone you detest as well, unless there was something in it for you; no matter how many billions of souls are on the line. So don't throw your altruistic bullshit my way, and don't presume to tell me what choice to make, you filthy trash-heaving slut."

I yank my hands off of her and she's up in my grill an instant later, glaring again. I glare right back. Her hot breath licks at my face; her nose is a hair's breadth from mine. She's so fucking close to me that I can smell the remnants of her sweet jasmine perfume and trace the dark blue lines in her irises that give them dimension. Somewhere in the background, two women declare they're cumming and drone out loud moans of bliss.

"For fuck's sake!" a loud bang on our door. "What's a man gotta do to piss around here?! I can tell you're not fucking or shitting, open up or you'll get a nice wet surprise when you do!"

With a last glare my way, Aurora opens the door.

"Uh..." I blink at a man barely reaching my chest with close-cropped fiery ginger hair and a hooked nose before us. "Since when do you—?"

"Out of my way!" He shoves us out of the small room with strength incongruous to his size and slams the door. Almost immediately, there's the sound of a stream hitting the toilet. Then a zipper, a flush, the running of water in the sink, and the door opens again.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" he says. "What are you two staring at?"

"You..." Aurora says, "I thought gods don't piss..."

"All looks no brain on you, eh?" the man laughs. "I'm half-giant, I can piss if I want to."

I mean, the joke really is on us. How did we not expect Loki to fuck with us at a nightclub in hell?

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Mister Mistoffelees is a reference to the musical "Cats". I've never actually seen it, but I know that character is a black cat magician and it fits.

'Aeneas' is the main and titular character of Virgil's real-life epic, 'The Aeneid'. That is what he is referring to when he calls himself Aeneas's parents' muse.

Thioacetone is one of the stinkiest substances known to us and a few drops in an open area can be smelled up to a kilometre away. It's been known to induce vomiting and unconsciousness in scientists working on distilling it.

Euripides and Aristophanes were ancient Greek Playwrights. They often took jabs at each other, but it's unclear if it was all in good fun or if they were actually bitter rivals. Here, I made them the latter, hence the joke about Aristophanes's stinky balls.