Page 56 of Interior Design for Demons
“Nice try,” I tell her. “But it didn’t work.”
She stares at me blankly. At first I think she’s faking, but then I realize she honestly doesn’t know what I’m talking about.
“You didn’t do it,” I murmur.
“I have no idea what you’re babbling about, demon-fucker,” she snarls. “If you’re done talking nonsense, I’ve got an interview to do.”
Confused, I continue down the hall, heading toward the area where the other contestants and I are staying. Linnea is coming toward me; her interview is probably after Amanda’s. She darts a glance at me and looks quickly away, ignoring my “hello.”
Wait a motherfricking second.
“Linnea!” I call sharply.
“Hey, Grace.” She turns to face me, lifting her chin and squaring her shoulders.
“Why?” I say quietly.
“Why what?” But her eyes dart away from mine again.
“You ruined my room. You—you wanted me to be eliminated. To die.” The words tremble leaving my throat.
Linnea’s face twists into ugly desperation. “You’re young and beautiful, the pet of two demons. What I did might put you at the bottom, but they’ll spare you anyway, don’t worry. They can’t get enough of you.”
“Even if that’s true, it’s not really my fault,” I say. “With Apollyon, it’s—it’s—” but I can’t explain what it is. He seems anxious that no one discover the bond growing between us. “And Rath—I’m just trying to keep him happy. I’m doing what I need to do, to survive.”
“Of course you are,” she says. “And so am I.”
She turns and strides away.
I don’t see her again until a few hours later, when we’re sitting a few chairs away from each other for the judging. Episode 3 shows plenty of torture footage, and I spend most of the time cringing at the horrific pain my fellow contestants went through. Thankfully mine looks equally painful on-screen—there are closeups of my splotched, swollen skin, of my naked, contorted body being pummeled with icy water, of vomit spewing from my mouth. There’s even a shot of Rath carrying my limp, bedraggled form out of the torture chamber. Of course they follow that up with a shot of me grinding against him while he was flying me through the atrium, and a sly commentary on my demon conquests. Then there’s a clip of my interview, where I’m boasting and teasing about having two hot demons on a leash. And there’s a brief mention of the sabotage my room endured—but although they must have footage of the attack, they don’t show it—probably to increase suspense. Whoever edited the episode includes my entire speech praising Rusala and Slate, too, drawing approving murmurs from the demon audience.
The rooms are shown next, and to my shock they are revealed with actual torture subjects in place. Humans are strapped to the chairs, bound to the tables, and put through a torture session in each contestant’s room. The sessions are shown in such gruesome detail that I have to close my eyes. I also have to pee—pretty sure this episode is like three times the length of the other two.
There’s a “torment gauge” to judge the effectiveness of every contestant’s torture chamber. The demons can sense a person’s level of fear and anguish, so it’s not surprising they’d have a metric for this. It’s also not surprising that my room scores low on the torment gauge, while Amanda’s achieves a top rating. My stomach sickens.
I might not make it through this time.
When I’m not one of the six safe contestants, it doesn’t surprise me. And when Ishtar smiles, crocodile-sharp, and asks me to defend my design choices, my heart feels like a stone plummeting through my body, crashing to the very depths of Hell.
“My theory was that torture is most effective long-term when there are moments of rest and wonder between the episodes of pain,” I tell her. “So yes, my room may have scored low with a short-term bout of torture, but I believe it would be effective during longer sessions.”
“It’s ingenious, no doubt,” says Sekhmet, “with the lighting, the mirrors, the shadows. All designed to confused and unsettle the subject.” Dagon nods in enthusiastic agreement.
Ishtar gives them each a withering look. “Creative, yes. But creativity wasn’t the goal here. Pain was the goal, and you fell short.” She waves me back to my seat.
I interlace my fingers and stare at them while Linnea defends her room, which scored only a couple points higher than mine. Maybe she should have spent more time working and less time smashing other people’s stuff.
“One more question, Ms. Norberg,” says Ishtar smoothly. “Did you or did you not cause major damage to Miss Labelle’s project during this course of this round?”
“I—” Linnea clears her throat. “I did not.”
“Didn’t you, though?” Ishtar smiles. “I applaud your attempt at prevarication, but you aren’t much of a liar. Did you forget that everything is recorded, my dear? Turn around and have a look.” The screen at the back of the stage illuminates again, showing a slim masked figure heaving a hammer with difficulty, then smashing it on my surgical table. “Impressive strength for a human of your age. And kudos for trying to fool us. However—” Ishtar nods, and the video switches to a clip of Linnea back in her suite, removing the disguise. “You’re a bit of an idiot, aren’t you, dear?”
That’s harsh. Anyone could do something stupid when they’re scared out of their mind.
I rise from my chair, unbidden. “Lady Ishtar, I don’t hold it against her,” I say. “I was still able to complete my room on time. It wasn’t much of a setback, thanks to my team.”
“Your affection for your team and your grace toward your rival is noted,” Ishtar says dryly.
