Page 24 of Interior Design for Demons
When Linnea reaches Apollyon, he pulls her right onto the platform with him. The skulls are still glowing with heat, and the hem of her gown sizzles.
My hands clench at my sides as Apollyon wraps a long arm around her shoulders and catalogs her achievements for the audience. He lets her go after that, and she’s whirled away into the mass of demons, far from me and Aghilas. One by one the other contestants are called. Before Aghilas leaves my side he gives my hand a compassionate squeeze.
I have a tentative friendship with him and with Linnea, but I’ve watched enough reality shows to realize that could change at a moment’s notice. Friendships forged early in a competition like this are valuable, but once the first competitor dies, things are probably going to change. I mean, Iknowit’s going to happen. Someone is going to be eliminated tomorrow, and that means actualdeath. But I still haven’t quite grasped the reality of it. And although I know it could be me, I have enough confidence in my design to believe I’ll survive the first round.
But my confidence ebbs when I realize that Apollyon left me for last. Did he do that on purpose because he thinks I’m the lowest ranking competitor? Maybe he’s eager to sleep with me because he doesn’t think I’ll make it through elimination. He’s been reciting the litany of professional achievements for each contestant—but I haven’t even finished my degree. What is he going to say about me?
“Grace Labelle.” Apollyon’s voice rings through the party space. How does he manage to make my name sound like a mockery and a naughty word at the same time?
I’m terrified. I don’t want to go up there and stand next to him. But everyone else was brave enough—even Charlie Wentworth. I can do this. One step after another on leaden legs, my gown dragging heavy as if it senses my reluctance, my fake wings fluttering softly behind me.
I’m there, at the fire pit, and Apollyon reaches down to help me up. It’s the same hand he slid between my legs in the shower. I can’t think about that, not right now, and I can’t look at him. His scent envelops me, and I can almost taste the cool tangy sweetness of his breath, lemon and sugar.
His fingers close around mine and a thrill pulses along my arm, racing straight to my heart. Idolook up then, and he’s looking at me, startled, as if he felt it too. The expression disappears the next second, replaced by sly mocking indifference as he pulls me up. Somehow I manage to balance on the skulls in my heels.
“This is Grace Labelle, everyone,” Apollyon announces. “United States citizen, junior student of interior design—an honor roll student.” He makes it sound so basic, like I’m in high school. After the impressive portfolios of the other contestants, my little bio seems pitiful. The demons jeer and snicker, unconstrained by any politeness or sympathy.
“First cut!” someone yells, and everyone laughs.
I should be used to this. I’ve been side-eyed and underestimated all my life. The foster kid, the one whose real parents couldn’t or wouldn’t take care of her. The one wearing thrifted clothes. The one who couldn’t afford the school trips. The one who didn’t have a ride to events. The one dependent on financial aid, the one in the cheapest dorm.
Yet despite my disadvantages, I was halfway through college when Rath grabbed me. I was making my dream happen on my own, before he snatched away everything I was building and threw me in here. What more can be done to me? I’m in literal Hell. And I’ll be damned if I let this motley mass of demons bring me down. I’m going to claw and scream and sweat my way through every round, and Iwillbe one of the top three.
I throw my shoulders back and lift my chin, and I take one step forward, my heel grinding on one of the black skulls. “You think I’m scared of you?” I shout, with a little mocking laugh of my own. “You all think you’re so powerful, but you’re just like the human bullies I’ve been proving wrong my whole life. I’ve got more creativity in my little finger than you have in your whole bodies. I’m damn good at what I do, and this will be the last time you fools underestimate me.” And I give them all the finger, with a brash smile, before hopping down from the fire pit.
The crowd parts as I stalk toward one of the refreshment tables. Whispers curl through the demons nearest me, and a few claws graze my skin as I pass. One pointed tail brushes my skirts, nudging beneath and curling around my ankle, trying to trip me up—but I kick it viciously away and move on. I prop my hip against the table and snatch a bunch of dark purple grapes, just to have something to occupy my hands which are now beginning to shake uncontrollably.
Apollyon is speaking to the crowd, but everything in my head is a buzzing blur. My moment of terrifying courage has passed, and my stomach is churning.
When a group of dancers with horrifying body mutilations takes the center stage, Apollyon yields the spotlight to them and leaps down. He’s taller than many of the other demons, and I can still see his scarlet hair and blue horns above the crowd. He whirs toward me with the blinding speed he used when he first took me to my rooms. I’m not sure if the guests move aside for him or if he passesthroughthem, but suddenly he’s towering over me, grinning, looking more hellishly glorious than ever, and I’m having trouble remembering my new rule aboutnot getting physically involved with demons.
Apollyon reaches past me to pluck a wedge of glistening pomegranate from a tiered stand on the table. “I find your defiance most provocative, Grace.”
“Too bad,” I mutter, popping another grape into my mouth.
He cuts a glance at me. I try not to watch as he tucks a globule of the pomegranate between his lips. “Regretting our interlude earlier? How human of you.”
“I’ve decided to focus on staying alive. Sorry if that inconveniences you.”
“Not at all. I’ll find another human to seduce.”
I shrug off his comment. “Speaking of which—the first time I met you, you breathed into my mouth, and you sort of put me under a spell. I wanted to—to worship you. But when Rath kissed me it cleared my head. What was all that about?”
“I’m a lust demon,” he says simply. “My voice, my scent, and my breath can render humans helpless to my charms.”
“Like a supernatural roofie.”
“If you like.”
“Idon’tlike. That’s basically rape.”
Lifting his eyebrows, he touches his chest. “Hello?Demon.”
“That’s no excuse.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I’m rarely allowed to sleep with my targets. And I’m irresistible even without my powers—I just use them to speed things along. I haven’t plied them on you since that first time.”
“Why not? Because Rath claimed the right of first seduction?”
