Page 93 of Interior Design for Demons
But the other rooms are excellent. Under Aghilas’s hand, the War room is brutal yet poignant, and Hisae makes Pestilence a work of art. Amanda’s Famine room is severe, ascetic beauty.
I’m pretty sure mine’s not as good as theirs. And when the episode narrator says that I “declined to speak” about my room, a stony dread settles in my stomach. That makes it sound like I gave up, like I hated my own work so much I didn’t want to talk about it.
Kind of true, I guess. I did run away instead of doing my post-round interview.
When the episode ends, our chairs swivel to face the judges.
“Contestants.” Ishtar rises. “We are nearing the end of this complex and challenging competition. This is the last elimination in which one of you will perish.”
A guttural, hungry murmur rolls up from the assembled crowd of demons.
“Our audience members have entered their votes while watching the episode,” she says. “And the judges and I have already discussed the rooms. So I don’t think there’s any point in more talk, do you?”
Wait—she’s not going to let us defend our designs? She’s just going to choose? Right now?
“After all,” continues Ishtar, “I think it’s fairly obvious who fell short in this round.”
My stomach tumbles, sick with fear.
Ishtar looks into my eyes and smiles, triumphant, and I know who she’s going to choose. This time, there’s nothing to stop her from getting rid of me.
I expected it, yet the reality is a shock to my nerves, a lightning-strike of disbelief and terror.
Apollyon is lounging in the front row, slung sideways in his seat. His bare feet squirm in the crotch of the demon on his left, and he’s practically lying across the demon on his right, exchanging languid kisses with her.
I’m about to be eliminated, and he can’t be bothered to look at me, not even to show the slightest concern.
I really thought I’d make it. I came so close—I thought I’d be one of the top three, one of the contestants who got to live.
I don’t want to die. But I don’t want Hisae, Amanda, or Aghilas to die either.
Ishtar’s claw-tipped finger points to me. “Grace Labelle, you have been eliminated.”
My stomach drops, quivering, into my bowels, and I bite back a surge of nausea. Rath promised he had something, a secret that could get one of the other contestants disqualified. Now is the time for him to use it. Not that I want someone to die in my place, but—
Rath clears his throat. “A moment, Lady Ishtar. I have information which could change this outcome—”
“Silence,” she snaps.
“But I have footage that could disqualify—”
“Enough, I say!” Ishtar extends her height again, as she did when I defied her. “The other sponsors have the self-control to let their contestants go when it is their time. Do not make a fool of yourself, Razenath. If you speak again, you will be demoted from Enforcer back down to Facilitator.”
I scoff lightly. Rath cares about me enough to lose one rank to save my life. He’ll speak out again. He would rather be demoted than watch me be flayed or burned or whatever they’ve got planned for me.
When he says nothing, I glance up at him. “Rath?” I whisper.
He won’t look at me. His handsome profile is stony, resigned.
He isn’t going to save me.
A final squeeze of my shoulder, and he’s backing away. Amanda is being dragged offstage by her sponsor—her sobs fade as the demonic crowd roars for my blood.
“For this round, the subject will be slowly dissolved in a vat of acid,” announces Ishtar gleefully. “This particular acidic solution is designed to wear away the body over a number of hours. You may all leave and return as you like—concessions are open in the lobby, and there will be close-ups of the dissolving process on the screen.”
A big glass tank is being rolled onto the stage by a pair of demons. There are shackles attached to it, and a headrest with a forehead bar—probably to keep my face above the surface so I can breathe and stay alive as long as possible while my skin, flesh and organs are dissolved.
Two demons approach me, grinning. “Stand still, precious,” one says. “We’re here to strip you naked.”
