Page 36 of Interior Design for Demons
The bathroom stalls themselves are painted royal blue, with tropical foliage swirling across them. On each stall door is a replica of a poisonous salamander, its back arched to form the door handle. They’re so realistic they look as if they might scuttle away any second. The tissue boxes and soap bottles on the white marble counter are made of green aventurine, a semi-precious gemstone. Tiny colorful poison frogs form the faucet handles, and the large mirror behind the sinks is enclosed in a frame of spiky black thorns, tinged with dark red at their tips. I’ve hung framed sketches of poisonous plants strategically on the walls, and I chose fixtures of antique brass for the lights, the toilet paper rolls, and the paper towel dispensers.
In this episode, the camera follows the judges’ walkthrough of each room. We didn’t get to see that last time. The comments for my room are mostly positive, though Ishtar says she would have liked to see more obscure poisonous creatures, like the inland taipan of Australia or the scorpionfish. I’d like to seehertry to work the mottled mess of a scorpionfish into a design. But of course, if I end up in the bottom five, I won’t say any such thing. I’ll be oh-so-respectful.
Several more rooms flit across the screen—Amanda’s Victorian gothic bathroom, Maksim’s dark carnival bathroom, Hisae’s ghostly bathroom with slick black walls and textured white stalls that remind me of bones. Aghilas used mortality as his theme, and while his use of skulls and spines and finger bones is clever, I’m terrified that the judges will tell him what they told Charlie Wentworth last time, before they eliminated and killed him.
There are a few more embarrassing moments in this episode, the worst being Linnea tweezing stray hairs from her boobs, which makes the demons howl with laughter. I cringe and blush in my seat, a little weirded out that she has to do that at all and mortified that she didn’t learn from my humiliation last time. I’ve taken to showering and using the bathroom in the dark, because I can’t figure out where the cameras are in my suite. By now every one of the contestants should realize two things—that our most private moments are fair game, and that the demons are fascinated with human bodies.
Finally all the contestants’ chairs swivel around again, facing the stony demon Dagon, and the queenly Ishtar, and Sekhmet, the genderless demon with the short blue hair and violet eyes. I try to keep my eyes on them, I really do. But my gaze slips aside, skewing to the spot where Apollyon sat during the last elimination round.
My stomach dives and leaps. He’s there again. Not looking at me this time, but whispering something to the demon beside him, a smirk slanting his mouth. I wonder who he’s mocking.
Ishtar begins to call names, and again, mine isn’t one of the first group. I remain seated, clutching my chair. Last time the ones left sitting down were safe.
Behind me, Rath exhales, as if in relief. At least he still wants me to succeed, even if he hasn’t said two words to me since my bathroom project began.
“Those of you whose names I called, the ones who are standing—you’re safe,” says Ishtar. “The rest of you, please prepare to defend your design choices.”
My lungs constrict, refusing to draw in air. I can hear my own heartbeat thundering in my ears.
I’m not safe.
Those whose names were called hurry offstage, eager to leave the rest of us to our fate. I’m in the bottom group with Aghilas, Amanda, and two other designers. My nerves are screaming and I desperately want Rath to give me one of those take-your-fear-away kisses. But there’s no time for that, because Ishtar says, “Grace Labelle. Step forward.”
Somehow I lurch to my feet and move toward her. She’s looking especially glorious today, in a lemon-hued evening gown that sets off her dark skin perfectly. Her hair is in two massive braids interwoven with bits of bone.
“You were the only contestant who had a lounge to decorate in addition to the bathroom,” she says.
“Yes—my lady.” The honorific seems appropriate, given her power and sheer fearsomeness.
“I’m not sure you treated that room with adequate care,” she says. “It seems to have been a bit of an afterthought for you.”
She doesn’t apologize for assigning me more work than the others. Her fierce gaze tells me there will be no allowances, no mercy.
“I did focus primarily on the bathroom, since that was the brief I shared with the other contestants.” My voice trembles, but not too badly. “However, I did try to weave the same theme through the lounge space.”
“Tell us more about your design choices, Grace.” Her eyes are immense, like lakes of eternal fire. I feel as if I might be incinerated on the spot, just from looking into them.
Methodically I repeat what I said in the episode interview, and then I add, “I understand you wanted a more unexpected and subtle choice of poisonous creatures, and I will definitely take that note on board for next time.”
“Next time?” She laughs, a throaty rasping sound. “By Lucifer’s bones, you are confident. You do realize you are at the bottom of the heap today, Grace? One word away from being disassembled?”
The worddisassembledsticks in my head, ringing through my ears. I can barely think around it.
I risk a glance at Apollyon. I’m not sure what I was hoping to see—concern, anxiety, panic? But he’s leaning back, arms crossed, an insolent smile on his lips, his blue eyes locked with mine.
Impossible idiot.
I lift my chin and look into Ishtar’s burning eyes. “You’ll do what you see fit, my lady,” I say. “I respect your power. But I also know that I can do more for you, and better. I hope you will give me the chance to prove it.”
Ishtar nods, waving me away with beringed fingers. “Dismissed.”
She speaks to each of the other four contestants in turn, and to each one she poses a similar question, almost a threat. She’s testing us to see how we respond. And thanks to Apollyon’s smirk, I was able to pull myself together and answer with some measure of confidence, dignity, and fearlessness.
I did the best I could. I can only hope it’s enough.
“Aghilas, Amanda, and Grace,” says Dagon in his gravelly tones. “You are safe. You may go.”
My shaking legs carry me to the backstage room with the sofas, where my fellow contestants are deep in drinks already, eyes trained on the screen. The two contestants left on the stage aren’t as familiar to me—one of them is Trey, who was in the bottom five last time, and I think the other person’s name is Zade, or Jade, or something.
