Page 37 of Interior Design for Demons
“Trey’s a good person,” says Amanda into her glass of gin. She glowers at me. “He doesn’t deserve to be eliminated.”
“I agree.” Maksim gives her a side hug, also glaring in my direction. “There are some one-note designers without much range who should be leaving instead.”
I won’t sit here and pretend I don’t notice their animosity. “Leaving? You meandying. You think I deserve to die?” I laugh, short and sharp. “I’d say none of us deserve that. Let’s not forget who our real enemies are—the demons who forced us into this.”
A few of the other designers gasp, and some of them cringe down into their seats as if they expect to be struck down on the spot. In retrospect, I probably shouldn’t have blurted that out in a room where our sponsor demons are lurking in the corners, watching our every move. But the seconds pass, and none of the demons seem to care about my outburst. The tension among the humans eases, only to ratchet up again as Dagon lets the Zade person go and points to Trey as the loser of the round.
Trey is a mild-looking mixed-race man in his thirties. He doesn’t beg or wet his pants like Charlie did—instead he pulls a crucifix from beneath his shirt and clutches it in one fist while two demons roll out a horrible-looking bed with screwy machinery at the top and bottom.
“Another throwback,” exults Ishtar. “This time it’s a nod to the good old days of the Inquisition! Demons and honored guests, I give you—the rack!”
I remember reading about the rack. In the 16thand 17thcenturies, in Catholic Spain and other countries, the Inquisitors would chain people’s ankles and wrists to the rollers and turn the screws until the joints popped out of sockets and the bodies were stretched beyond repair. Relief was only possible after confession. Some people were left permanently disabled after the rack, while others died on it. One British woman, Anne Askew, was so messed up after torture on the rack that she had to be carried in a chair to her burning at the stake—all because women were not supposed to proclaim the Scriptures. It doesn’t surprise me that Hell and its demons were behind all that pain, inciting Catholics to persecute Jews and Protestants. Religion always seems to be a tool of division and death in the hands of power-hungry men.
And now we have to watch this ancient torture device tear apart some harmless guy, an artist who wasn’t quite up to the standards of a bunch of devils.
Amanda leaps up from the couch, her drink sloshing and spattering on the floor. “This is your fault,” she spits at me. “It was supposed to be you this time.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, fear and anger rising in my throat.
She sidesteps the question. “You’re only safe because you’re screwng two demons—your sponsor and that red-haired freak. Demon whore.”
I spring to my feet, teeth gritted. “I haven’t slept with either of them.”
“Stop lying,” she snarls. “We all saw you in Episode 1.”
“That was one time, and it didn’t go any further than what you saw.”
Maksim rises too, narrowing his eyes. “Are we supposed to believe that?”
“Believe it or not,” I snap. “It’s the truth.”
Trey’s screams of agony are beginning, and I head for the exit, covering my ears—but my way is blocked by a demon with black-and-white hair and blade-like horns. “Human contestants must remain in place until the elimination process is complete,” he growls.
“Fuck you,” I spit, before realizing that might not be the right thing to say, given my present reputation.
The demon smiles at me with pointed teeth. “Anytime you like.”
Seething with frustration, I plunk back down on the couch between Hisae and Aghilas. They both maintain a delicate distance from me. From her seat across the room, Linnea gives me a sympathetic wince, and then looks away.
None of them spoke up to defend me. I suppose I shouldn’t expect it—they don’t know me that well, and they have no real reason to trust me, except for the fact that I’ve tried to be kind to everyone since I got here. Maybe they’re keeping quiet because they don’t want to attract attention or reprisal from Amanda and Maksim. I don’t blame them for looking out for themselves. But it hurts.
What hurts even more is listening to Trey scream, watching his body be stretched to the limits and beyond. Apollyon doesn’t come in and turn off the screen this time—we are all forced to endure the sights and sounds of the elimination. At last, with a final popping and cracking of bone, it’s over. Last time I wasn’t looking at the TV at the moment of Charlie’s death, but this time I see Trey’s soul float free of his body. Two demons collect the soul in a shimmery net and roll the distorted corpse away.
Even when it’s over, I don’t move. I pull my legs up to my chest and set my chin on my knees, and I wait until every human and demon has emptied from the room.
When they’ve all gone, Rath comes to stand in front of me. His crotch is nearly at my eye level, and it’s an unpleasant reminder of what he wanted me to do a few days ago. When he crouches to look at me, I’m relieved. Cautiously I meet his eyes.
“I can feel your distress,” he says. “Your disgust, your anger.”
“Good for you.” I scoff and avert my eyes from his face.
He curves a broad hand around my ankle, and the touch feels so warm and nice that I don’t shove him away.
“I have spent my life studying humans,” he says. “I understand their ascetic goals, their studious aspirations, their political ambitions, and their business acumen. What I do not understand is amorous relationships.” He says those two words with a twist of his mouth that almost makes me laugh. “The other day, I read your lust and desire, but I read it wrong. I thought only of my cravings, my station, my glory, my rights. I supposed you would be eager for the privilege of servicing me. And when you rebuffed me so thoroughly, it wounded my pride. I punished you to salve my own hurt.”
He pauses, and I nod. “Go on.”
“From now on, if I am not sure what you want, I will ask. I will not assume. Tonight is another feast, followed by what will probably be a frenzy of bodies coupling—” he arches his lip in disgust. “I prefer quiet and privacy and order when I take my pleasure. And I would like to take it with you, before the next round begins. So if you are amenable, you must let me know clearly, when and how we may join.”
