Page 89 of Interior Design for Demons
He shrugs. “It was purchased for you weeks ago. Remember, we know all your—”
“Yes, yes, you know everything about me.” I roll my eyes. “Which includes all my playlists and favorite bands, I guess.”
“Of course.” Rath isn’t looking at me; he’s eye-locked with Apollyon. “You’re not supposed to interact with her.”
“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Razenath. I’m greeting all the contestants personally tonight,” says Apollyon. “I may bend rules occasionally, but I know when to follow them, too. Besides sex, self-preservation is my greatest guiding principle. Sorry, dove. Nothing personal, but I’d rather stay alive and keep my rank.” He smirks at me, not a hint of apology or remorse in his gaze. “Welcome to the party,” he intones in a flawless British accent. “Oh, and mind the gaps.” He points to the steaming, glowing cracks that lace through the lava floor.
“Great,” I mutter. “Ishtar might not get the chance to kill me in the next round. I’m sure she’ll be disappointed. Maybe I should just jump right into one of these as a finalscrew youto her.”
“That would be very painful,” says Apollyon quickly. “You would burn, but you wouldn’t die, not until your role in the contest is complete. Remember the fall you took in the atrium, the first day? And how Rath so gallantly and gently saved you? Well, except for the bloody mess he made of your lovely shoulders—” He shuts his jaws sharply as if he’s said more than he meant to. Spinning on his heel, he strides away into the crowd.
The familiar tug in my heart begs me to follow him, but I can’t. He doesn’t want me to. We’re done.
I wonder who he’ll find to be his cure. It will be tricky for him to locate someone with whom he can be secretly monogamous, especially with the rule that lust demons can’t have long-term partners.
Maybe he won’t find anyone. Maybe I’m witnessing the last phase of his lifespan.
The thought of his impending deterioration haunts me, even after I’ve found my fellow contestants, even while I’m half-heartedly dancing a little, and drinking a little, even when the impending headache crashes into my skull like a cartoon anvil. I stumble through the crowd, one hand pressed to my pounding right eye, blinking against the white splotches blurring my vision.
This is going to be a bad one. It feels like the time last year when I got the ultimate killer migraine and missed two whole days of classes. If I don’t get medicine in me soon, it’ll be too late, and I’ll be so sick from the pain I won’t be able to keep the pills down.
I can’t find Rath. I can’t find my friends—they’ve been swirled away into the dark roiling mass of black bodies and grinning fangs, of red lava-glow and blade-sharp claws.
My foot skids and I teeter on the edge of a crack. If my panic and pain doesn’t bring Rath soon, I might throw myself into one of the fiery gaps, just to get his attention. What could he bedoing?
I stumble across the crack and lurch between a pair of black stony columns. And there, in the shadow of the ravine wall, is Rath, pumping himself into the rear of the pixie-haired demon Naamah. His ex. The one with creative tendencies and rule-breaking habits. The one who eats human flesh to keep herself from devolving. She’s bent over, shuddering, claws out and eyes leaking coils of dark purple smoke. Ribbons of glowing purple light snake beneath her dark skin, brightening with every thrust Rath makes.
Blinking, I stagger back the way I came.
Good for him. I’m kinda mad that he’s too busy to sense my agony and take me back to my rooms—but I’m glad he’s hooking up with someone, even if it is his weird cannibal ex.
A violent surge of pain behind my eye drives a twist of unbearable nausea through my stomach. I lean quickly over one of the lava-cracks and vomit into it.
A little distance away, a male demon has his dick out and is peeing into the same crack. He winks at me.
Grimly I wipe my mouth and focus on the name I shouldn’t say, the person I shouldn’t want to see. I’m not sure who else to call.
“Apollyon,” I murmur.
He’s probably bending someone over too. Maybe I can find my way back to that horrible roller-coaster of a trolley—oh god, just the thought of riding it is nearly enough to make me sick again.
Desperate, I grab the arm of the first demon I see. “Want some pain and misery?” I ask. “I’ve got plenty right here. Siphon some of it away, please.”
The demon is a skinny, smarmy-looking fellow with a green tint to his skin. Attractive to some, I guess, but to me he just looks creepy—and greedy. His skeletal fingers wrap around my hands, talons scraping my skin. “I’ll take some of your pain, Grace Labelle,” he says. “Honored, indeed. But what will you do for me in return?”
“What do you want?” I mutter, though I’m pretty sure I already know.
“I’d like to get in there.” He releases one of my hands and wiggles a finger against my crotch. “See what all the fuss is about. Get my pleasure in the same place as the great Apollyon.”
No one who’s endured a colossal optic migraine can fault me for considering it. I mean, I was contemplating self-immolation a few minutes ago.
But before I can agree, a set of five cerulean claws protrude through the green demon’s skinny throat. He chokes, gargling on his own blood, his eyes blasting wide. Apollyon tosses him carelessly aside. “You called, dove?”
“I need someone to take my pain.” The words are nearly a whimper, and I don’t even care that I’m begging. My knees shake, and I sink onto them, gripping the hem of Apollyon’s jacket. “Please.”
He recoils, shaking me off.
“We’re done, darling,” he says. “You and I, we can’t do this anymore. I can’t be seen helping you—I’m risking torture just standing here with you.”
