Page 30 of Not Today, Satan
“Whoa.” His voice echoes back at us.
Suspended mirrors surround us. Circular metal lamps swing over our heads, the bulbs flickering like sparks of a fire that won’t catch.
Lot Thirteen was crowded with sinners and their ear-shattering screams, but in here, we are alone. The only sounds are the buzz of the lights and the beat of my own heart in my ears. The hairs on the back of my neck rise.
I preferred the screams. At least I knew what to expect from them.
“This looks like the fun houses I used to go in as a kid,” Nathan Reynolds says, tapping on one of the pieces of glass. “The room of mirrors. You know, one makes you tall and thin, another makes you short and wide.”
I glance around, uneasiness building inside me. “Except there’s nothing fun in here.”
“Of course there isn’t.” He sighs and steps away from the mirror. “What happens? Scary clown attack? Are demons going to jump out from the mirrors? Wait, I got it. Demon clowns. That’s definitely my Hell.”
I trace my image with my index finger, the glass cool beneath my skin. On the surface, it’s no different than the mirror in my bedroom. “The mirrorsarethe punishment. This is where the prideful go, the people who took great care over how they were perceived in life. Now, they’ll wander a maze of mirrors that shows them only the things they hate about themselves. We don’t need demons here because their own truths are enough to torture them forever.”
He lets out a low whistle that ricochets around us. “I have to admit, much as I never want to meet the guy, your dad is impressive at what he does.” He threads his hands through his hair and pushes it off his forehead. “Good thing I don’t have any of that stuff.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes at his reflection. There’s the ego I remember. “You’d be surprised. These are our actual reflections. It’ll get worse the deeper we go. Stay close to me.”
We pass through the entrance into a hall lined with more mirrors. Some slide of their own accord, others move when we touch them. They merge, then split from one another, without a discernable pattern. They cover every surface—above our heads, beside us, and beneath our feet.
I can’t escape my own image.
I’m paler than usual, dirt staining the bottom of my skirt from the fight with Diripo. My hood’s fallen back, and I smooth my hair.
Behind me, Nathan Reynolds cuts a surprisingly impressive figure in his uniform, the helmet cradled at his side. His cheeks are flushed pink with exertion, his eyes bluer in this light.
He winks at me, and I look away, my neck heating at being caught. “Like what you see?”
“You’re impossible.” I gesture to the mirrors. “You want to make jokes like that here, a place that punishes people for being vain?”
He opens his mouth to protest, then closes it before continuing to follow me.
We walk in silence for a while, and this time it’s me who catches him staring. I glare at him. “What?”
He slips his hands into his pockets and hugs his shoulders to his ears. “I’ve noticed the other demons look human like you sometimes, but they also have demon forms. I’ve never seen yours. I guess I wondered what it looked like.”
I swallow and stare at the floor, my reflection eyeing me warily.
Something flickers at my feet, then disappears with a blink.
Stupid lights, already playing tricks on me.
“I don’t have one. At least not yet. I don’t know if it’s something I’ll grow into or whatever, but for now… This is me.” Trailing my gaze up, I meet his eyes in the mirror. He smiles.
My cheeks redden under his gaze, and I turn away, stopping when we reach a fork in the mirrors that reveals three different—but similarly endless—hallways.
“So,” Nathan Reynolds says. “Are we going left or right? Or straight? We’ve got three choices in the world’s worst game show.”
I frown. The mirrors are constantly changing their patterns of endless routes and turns, trapping shadelings for eternity. No map exists, because it’s impossible to capture their course.
“We turned left when we came in,” I say more confidently than I feel. “Let’s go right.”
Our reflections scrutinize us as we continue through the maze. I lead us based on instinct and focus on my feet as much as possible. The hum of the electricity grates against my ears, and I pull my hood up to block it out.
I don’t know how long we walk. Time speeds up in this lot to disorient the shadelings, and the changing mirrors add to the confusion. Despite keeping my gaze away from the mirrors, I spot the occasional shadow out the corner of my eye, but every time I turn to catch it, only Nathan Reynolds is behind me, his brow creased in thought.
I chalk the shadows up to exhaustion and shrug.
