Grave Mistakes (Hellgate Guardians, #1)

by Ivy Asher

For the broke bitches. May you find hot demons at the end of your struggle.

“Before I accept, I just want to be sure that there won’t be any kind of bait and switch type of scenarios here. I’m not going to show up and discover some webcam girl situation or find out that I have to partake in any other questionable activity like telemarketing or becoming an overly friendly Chick-fil-A order taker? Pretty sure they’re possessed by something, and I’m just not game to find out,” I add on a friendly yet suspicious chuckle. Ms. Atwood laughs again, but it goes from a tinkling to a full belly laugh, and I have to stop myself from joining in, because it’s a tad contagious. “They really are too polite to pass as human, aren’t they?” she agrees, and I give in and giggle with her.

So I’m stuck in a mansion where everyone is dressed up for Halloween a couple months early, surrounded by demonic Renaissance porn. This event has obviously spared no expense.

I suddenly feel itchy just being in here. Maybe I’m allergic to rich. Wouldn’t that just fucking suck.

You made me go full Bella Swan when I’m a fucking Katniss Everdeen at heart,” I told them accusingly. “Not cool. I’m allowed to pause myself. You are not allowed to pause me, ever!”

Not today, demons. Not today.

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 am not getting cavity searched in Hell.

I clearly can’t be trusted, and Hell is not on my travel bucket list.

I could chuck my ramen at them, but aside from the potential scurvy they could get from eating too much of it, that’s a shit plan, and I’m fucked.

The wheels give a scream of protest as I take off like a drunk snail

Some girls get taken to the movies by the hot dudes. Or dinner. Or at least the back seat of a car. Why is it that I get taken to a Hellgate? It’s like sophomore year all over again.

Welcome to life in the Mortal Realm, the place where things hardly ever work out the way that you want them to, and yet you still have to pay taxes on that shit anyway.

It’s like my kitchen last night—it’s easy to get overwhelmed and only see the disaster that it was, but with a little help and effort, you can uncover the possibility beneath the rubble.

“But the end game isn’t Hell or Heaven, but to become better. To level up, so to speak, and move on to the next challenge. It’s all about growing and progressing until you earn your own world and your own Mortal Realm to watch over and help.

And Hell is like my Nana’s house: smells weird, but it’s not so bad once you get used to it. Maybe there’s even cookies down here. I’m sure I’ve heard something about cookies being offered on the dark side.