Despite the fact that they were sisters, Cornelia and Lydia were reacting very differently to their current situation.

“Lydia, do stop with the weeping and the carrying on,” Cornelia said with a sigh, barely audible over the sound of her sister’s wailing.

This stern rebuke, of course, only made Lydia sob louder and more dramatically. Cornelia rolled her eyes, and began to pace. There had to be a way out of here. There was always a way out, if only one could find it. Even if that way out takes a lot of time and pain, a voice in the back of her head reminded her, and Cornelia shrugged it off. If the time came for that option, she’d deal with it then. For now, there had to be a simpler option.

“Yes, Astaroth?” the Devil himself asked, arching one impressively villainous eyebrow.

“Well, you see, Luci…” Astaroth mumbled, wringing his hands and avoiding eye contact with the Dark Prince.

The Devil sighed, slumping back onto his throne of skulls. “Asti, we talked about this. It’s ‘Your Infernal Highness,’ or ‘My Dark Prince,’ or maybe ‘Lucifer,’ if we’re being informal. Quit calling me Luci, it’s wrecking my image.”

Dylan and Hugh tumbled through the cabin door, laughing and swearing as the storm raged outside.

“I told you,” Dylan panted, shutting the door and shaking her head, spraying water everywhere, “that it was going to rain.”

Hugh grinned, peeling off his sweatshirt. “Yeah, okay, so you were right. But I did say a walk would be invigorating, didn’t I?”

Dylan rolled her eyes, slipping off her sodden sneakers and tiptoeing around the puddles. “Whatever makes you feel better.”