Free The Devil's Intern by Donna Hosie Page B

grabbing the forged letter from my backpack. It’s crumpled and wet. My water bottle must have leaked. “This is permission from General Septimus. He needs some urgent things from the Grim Reapers.”
    She takes my letter and narrows her crimson eyes. She’s obviously squinting as she reads it. I’m guessing her fake eyelashes, which look like hairy black caterpillars, are preventing her from reading it clearly. I start praying that this will work to our advantage.
    “Why does it need all four of you?” she asks.
    “Because there are many items that require bringing back down to Lord Septimus,” replies Alfarin quickly, “and I think you will agree that my friend here is not in great shape.”
    Alfarin slaps a hand on my shoulder and my knees buckle. Mrs. Flabby Turkey-Neck smiles indulgently at my friends, as if she pities them for having such a pathetic loser as me among them.
    “Go on then, quickly, before the guards bring the next lot down,” she says with a wobble. She presses a button under her counter and two silver doors open automatically behind her. They’re at least ten inches thick. The kind you’d find in a bank vault.
    It’s that easy. Moments later the four of us enter a claustrophobic corridor that has been hewn through the rock. The silver doors slam shut behind us and particles of rock fall from the narrow roof.
    Now Medusa turns on me.
    “How could you?” she screams. “How could you leave us like that? Leave
me
like that?” She’s punching every single part of me with her balled-up fists. Alfarin and Elinor walk on and leave her to beat me to a pulp.
    “Keep your voice down, Medusa!” I cry, trying to grab her hands. “Someone will hear you.”
    “You don’t get to decide our futures, Mitchell,” continues Medusa, totally oblivious to the fact that she has probably woken The Devil himself with her screeching. “You don’t get to decide what I do with my life or death. You don’t tell me this is men’s talk,and you don’t get to buy me off with a leather jacket, you swine, you pig, you devil.”
    “Medusa, will you quit hitting me?” I yell back. “Alfarin, will you help me out here?”
    “I have already taken my punishment like a man, Mitchell,” replies Alfarin seriously. “Now so must you. We owe them that.”
    “But Elinor isn’t the one beating me up.”
    Elinor walks back and punches me on the jaw. I see black and then stars. I haven’t seen stars for four years, but at least Medusa has stopped hitting me.
    “Ye will never ditch us again,” says Elinor, cradling the hand that just punched me. “We are yer friends and ye will damn well treat us like friends.”
    “See what you’ve done?” hisses Medusa. “You’ve made El swear and get violent, and El never swears or gets violent.”
    I’m still sprawled out on the ground. I think my jaw is broken in at least seven places.
    “Are you all coming with me?”
    “Of course we are,” reply Medusa and Elinor together.
    “But it’s going to be really dangerous. Once Septimus knows what we’ve done . . .”
    “I don’t need protecting, Mitchell, and did you really think you could give me your leather jacket and that would make it all right?” asks Medusa quietly as Elinor bends down and helps pull me to my feet.
    “No,” I mumble, ashamed and relieved beyond measure in equal parts.
    “If we are to do this, then we must depart now,” says Alfarin.
    I’m inches from Medusa. Her mad curls have escaped from her hair clip. I tuck several corkscrew strands behind her little ears. She has really tiny ears.
    “Promise me you’ll never leave me again,” she whispers. I think she’s trembling. She’s probably cold. It’s definitely chillier out here.
    “I promise.”
    My throat tightens. I only make promises when I know I’m goingto keep them. I would never lie to Medusa. I wouldn’t lie to any of my friends. I’m never going to leave her now—not ever. And now my palms are getting sweaty.