Page 19 of Interior Design for Demons
The video ends, and Rath hands me the tablet. “You can review that video as often as necessary. You’ll also find additional profile information for each client. But remember, demons will move in and out of this office as they are promoted or demoted. You can personalize the room to this set of four, but don’t go too far with that, or the space won’t be versatile enough for the next group of users. Rusala and Slate know where the supply rooms are. I suggest you begin planning and sketching immediately. There’s software on the tablet for that purpose, or one of your helpers can fetch paper if that’s what you prefer.”
He meets my eyes briefly, and his fingers brush mine under the tablet. “I cannot help you anymore, or see you again until after your room is complete.”
It’s for the best. He’s a distraction I can’t afford. With him gone, I’ll be free to think, to imagine, to get into the right headspace for this project. So why does my heart sink at the thought of his absence? Am I—disappointed? Ugh. What is wrong with me?
I shrug, pulling away the tablet and my hand. “So you’re leaving? That’s a relief.”
His brows contract. “For me as well.”
“I’d rather not see you any more often than I have to.”
“Same,” he snarls, and stalks out of the room.
My face heats, inflaming further when I notice Rusala and Slate smirking and giving me significant looks.
“What?” I snap. “He’s an annoying bastard. Let’s get to work. The first thing you can do for me is to sit out in the hall and wait.”
“Wait?” Slate cocks an eyebrow.
“Yes. Justwait.”
With my helpers out of the way, I prowl the perimeter of the room. I watch the video again, and read the profiles of my clients. The tablet loads everything quickly, despite being packed with heavy software like SketchUp Pro—my personal favorite. But I’m not ready to craft the design just yet. First, I lie on the floor with my limbs splayed out, and I stare at the ceiling for a long time.
After nearly an hour, the notes that began to sing in my head the moment I walked into this room have clarified into a melody, with layers and harmonies and orchestration. Poking my head out into the hallway, I summon the two demons.
“I know what this room wants,” I tell them. “But first things first. I’m going to need some music.”
It’s done.
The room is done, and I can’t add one more dab of paint, or shift the angle of a single accessory.
I am sweat-stained, smelly, shaky from hunger—altogether spent. When the deadline alarm sounds, I throw myself out into the corridor and collapse against the wall. And I don’t move a muscle.
It’s done.
And it’s beautiful. I’m so proud of it I would scream, if I had the energy. Tomorrow, at the presentation, everyone will see the space my team and I created, and I will have the chance to defend my design choices before the judges.
Slate crouches beside me, offering her hand. Her fingers are strung with heavy rings, embedded into her flesh so they’re more metal than skin. I grip her hand and she pulls me up. “I’ll take you back to your room,” she says. “You’ve got to get cleaned up for tonight.”
“Wear something nice.” Rusala tucks back stray bits of my hair. “Do you need me to select your dress? Never mind, I’m coming with you. You need someone to take care of this hair and style you properly. What about a few piercings?” He traces my eyebrows with a sharp nail. “I could give you some.”
“Ooh, can I come?” Slate begs. “I’d love to hear her scream. Let’s do nipple piercings, too. Her tongue, and her lips—and one in her navel!”
“No!” I exclaim. “No, I don’t want any piercings. I’ve already got two in each earlobe, and that’s plenty.”
But my demon helpers aren’t listening. Maybe they’re weary from three days of obeying my incessant orders. Maybe they haven’t tortured anyone in too long, and they’re itching for some agony. Maybe they really think they’re being kind to me, in their way—initiating me into the group.
“You’ll love it.” Slate hooks her arm through mine, while Rusala grips my other arm. They haul me along so fast I can hardly breathe. My feet aren’t even touching the floor. “I’ve got my back pierced, too—double rows of rings. I like to lace them up corset-style. So sexy.”
“Now I have to list all ofmine.” Rusala rattles off a long litany of body piercings and alterations, including some very uncomfortable-sounding adjustments to his nether regions.
The three of us have reached my rooms before I have the chance to get a word in edgewise. Slate picks me up and tosses me onto the bed. She’s demon-strong, and I don’t have the energy to fight her.
“Lie still, lovely,” she says. “We’ve been dying to have a little fun with you, and now that the work is done, we can! I’ve got plenty of needles, up here.” She touches the wild mass of her knotted hair.
“And I’ve got these!” Rusala indicates the golden staples and pins that hold his tunic together. “We can put piercings absolutely everywhere!”
“Wait—” I begin, but Rusala leans down and rips my T-shirt open with his teeth and talons.
