Page 2 of Not Today, Satan
I hurl the folder onto my desk and stand so I’m at his level. This has gone on long enough. I’m not here to argue with the dead. I’m here to make sure they’re punished for what they did when they were alive.
My voice comes out as a low growl. “She had a heart attack and died two minutes later.”
His dark eyes widen as he backs up, and I take a grateful sip of the air he’d been hoarding with his closeness. “I can’t be blamed for that. It was obviously her time.”
“Seems it was your time, too. Look, you already have your stamp.”
I gesture to his right inner wrist. A mark ripples like a snake beneath his skin before settling into a series of scarlet letters and numbers.
He frowns and shakes his arm, as though the ink might disintegrate if he applies enough force. “What the—?”
I squint at the digits. “You’re assigned to Lot Ten with the other liars.” I arch my eyebrows as I delve deeper into his file. “Looks like you did more than drink and drive in your lifetime. You naughty boy.”
“B-but… None of this is right,” he stutters.
The color drains from his face, and I smirk at his unease.
I don’t usually enjoy my work, but once in a while I can see why Father does what he does.
“I can’t be dead. And I certainly can’t behere.”
Scrawling a checkmark on my clipboard, I reach behind me and snatch a crimson jumpsuit from the large pile on the floor. There’s no need to scrounge for a size; it’ll mold to the wearer’s body type when they put it on.
“For the last time”—I right myself in my chair—“it’s correct. You’re dead. You’ve been judged and this is where you wound up. Deal with it.” I drop the clothing on the table in front of him and point to my left. “Follow Nefas over there. He’ll take you to Lot Ten. You’re going to spend eternity in those clothes, so I recommend taking good care of them.”
Gaping at me, the man remains in place.
I flick my gaze to the tall, midnight-colored demon stationed by the dock. He nods and heads in my direction.
The flames on the wall flicker off the onyx scales that cover his massive body. Emerald horns break through his forehead and peak in aUover his head.
With hooves that stamp the ground hard enough to make the floor rumble as he walks, Nefas cuts an imposing figure. He’s carted souls to their lots since Father was banished to this place. Good as he is at the job, I can’t imagine doing anything that long. I can barely get through eight hours a week here.
“Let’s go.” Nefas clamps down on the man’s shoulder with sharp nails.
The man’s eyes widen as he’s dragged screaming from my desk, the heels of his black dress shoes imprinting a path after him in the gravel.
“Welcome to Hell, sir!” I call after him in a melodic tone. “I’d say enjoy your stay, but you probably won’t. That’s kind of the point.”
Nefas shoves him onto a small boat tied to a dock along with hundreds of other shadelings as I scrawl “Devica” along the “Checked in by” line at the bottom of his report.
Snapping his folder shut, I shove it on top of my “Done” pile and survey the never-ending line in front of me. I groan.
How can humans suck this much, even after they’re dead?
Plucking another folder from the stack beside me, I flip it open and call to the line without looking up, “Next!”
“Uh, I think that’s me. But there’s been a mistake.”
“Seriously?” I rub my temples as the pressure in my head builds. “Did you not hear the dude in front of you? We don’t make mistakes here.”
I scan the information provided in the report with bleary vision.
Why do I keep getting the complainers? I should pawn them off to my coworker, Ferus. He may be the worst demon who ever demoned and he hates humans more than I do, but he has a way with them. By the end, they think he’s doing them a favor by sending them off to their lot.
“You don’t understand,” the voice persists. “Ireallydon’t belong here. I did nothing wrong.”
I study the report. An elderly lady with white hair and glasses smiles at me from the attached photo Father used for judgment. Funny, the voice doesn’t sound like it belongs to a senior citizen.
