My stomach twists. 'Please tell me you're joking.'

The devil smiles languidly, waving a lazy hand over his - my brother's face.

He's wearing my brother's face.

The devil sighs. 'I cannot. This is, I suppose, a camouflage. My true form would boil your eyeballs. Thus, I am bound to appear as someone you detest.'

'But I don't detest my brother,' I reply, 'I love him more than anything. I died trying to save him. In fact, he's the reason I'm here.'

Here being Hell's Administrative Department. The second I died and regained consciousness in the underworld, I was shouting for Thomas. But my voice just echoed off craggy rocks and steaming streams of lava.

'And yet,' Thomas the devil smirks, 'he's not here.'

'Well, he... he probably... got lost.'

The devil makes Thomas' face - usually so shy and sweet - twist into a sneer. 'Are you saying I don't know how to run things down here?'

I cross my arms over my chest. 'I just want to see my brother.'

The devil composes Thomas' face into a smile. 'Oh Charlie, you already are.'

'No,' I snap, 'this isn't how it was supposed to be.'

'Don't worry,' the devil says, 'if you have a complaint, you can fill out one of our forms.' He steeples Thomas' fingers. 'But I should warn you, there's a hell of a lot to get through.'