Page 31 of Not Today, Satan
We’ve been moving for what feels like hours but could be days when he speaks again.
“Does this seem too easy to you?”
I stop and cock my head. “What do you mean?”
He gestures to the mirrors, his doubles mimicking his movements. “Our reflections are normal. Beyond the maze, we’re not being threatened. And there’s no one here. Where are all the people being punished?”
“Each shadeling wanders alone in here so that no one can provide the compliments they sought in life.” I hike the bag higher on my shoulder and peek at him over my nose. “Are you saying you want this to be more difficult?”
He holds his palms up, the burn now a pink scar above his wrist. “That’s not what I mean. This place is designed to torture, right? How are we able to walk through it without being punished?”
Uneasiness crawls back into my gut. I’ve had the same questions, but he doesn’t need to know that. He also doesn’t need to know about that shadow I’m now sure is following us. I’ll tell him when we get out of here.
Ifwe get out of here.
“Maybe it doesn’t work on us,” I offer. “Your punishment was in Lot Thirteen. I’m the daughter of the guy who created the place. Maybe it only affects the sinners for this particular sin.”
“I guess.” He grimaces. “But it doesn’t sit right. We’re like those people in horror movies who are all, ‘There’s nothing wrong with this house,’ only to learn there’s an ancient, murderous ghost hiding in the toilet.”
I lower my hood and give him a perplexed look. “I think I’ll pass on Earth movies.”
He pouts but says nothing as we continue through the maze, surrounded by our own frustrated reflections and the black smoke that seems to trail only me. I bite my lip to keep from admitting that we’re definitely lost.
The shadows form into a shape around my feet, and I freeze, my hand over my sword. “Nathan Reynolds, do you see that?”
“Please stop using my whole name, it’s weird. Call me Nate.” He squints. “I don’t see anything.”
He turns and maneuvers down the hall, but I step closer to the mirror, the object moving with me. It comes into focus, and my hand flies over my mouth.
“Nathan Reynolds,” I say. He doesn’t stop. I twirl, willing the thing in the mirror to disappear, but it turns with me, twitching when I slow. Black spots mar my vision, and I blink them away. “Nathan.Nate.”
He spins on his heel. “What is it?”
“I have a…” The word scratches at my throat, struggling to push past my tongue.
“A what?”
“I have atail.”
XIV.
“I’m sorry, what?” His face pinches, like he’s struggling not to laugh.
“Look.” I spin so he can see the offending appendage. It flicks up and licks his calf.
He brushes my cape to the side and bends to examine my lower back. “Devica, there’s nothing there.”
I blink rapidly, willing it to disappear. But it’s still in the mirror. Black, with red spikes, slithering like a snake over the ground.
“You can’t see it?” I ask. “It’s right there.”
“There’s nothing, Devica. Just you.” He spins me from the glass and cups my chin, tilting my face to his. “This is one of those tricks you mentioned. Look at me. Focus on my eyes.”
I haven’t looked into those eyes since the night he broke into my room. The indigo hues that once unnerved me now slow my racing heart. As far as human eyes go, his are by far the most inviting. Although most humans I’ve seen aren’t dying to meet my gaze. They’re just dead.
“Okay.” He releases my chin. Disappointment floods me when his eyes break from mine. “Now look behind you. Not at the mirror, but at yourself.”
I follow his instructions and unclench my jaw when nothing inches from beneath my skirt. “Thanks,Nate.”
