Page 34 of Not Today, Satan
Come on, Devica. You’re better than this.
“Do it,” my father urges, “and all of this will be over. You’ll never have to struggle again.”
The weapon is heavy as I raise it over my head. I try to drop it, but it’s like someone else is controlling me. I’m powerless against their strength.
“I’m sorry, Nate,” I whisper, tears blurring him into a collage of red and blue. “This is who I have to be.”
I bring the pitchfork down.
“Devica!”
The throne room splits apart, jagged pieces of glass sailing through the air. My hand is empty, the pitchfork disintegrated.
I’m back in Lot Eleven, glass raining down on my head.
I try to cover myself, but shards slice through my arms and face, stinging as they fall. I drop to my knees and hug myself, my body shivering violently.
Nate races to me, baton in hand. I jump as he brushes glass off my shoulders and touches my cheek. “Devica? Are you okay?”
“I…” I blink and survey the shattered mirrors around me, trying to piece together what happened. My arms ache from struggling against whoever was controlling them. I hug myself and rub my muscles. “I was about to hurt you. I was going to stab you with a pitchfork.”
“It was all in your head,” he says. “See? No pitchfork.” He takes my hands and brushes his thumbs over my palms. The shivers I’d had from fear are replaced by something I don’t recognize, and I pull my arms back.
“Horns?” I ask.
“Are you asking if you’re horny? Cause only you can answer that. If you’re asking if I’m horny, well, that’s a dangerous question to ask a teenage boy.”
I close my eyes and tilt my head back, resting on the cool glass. I’m covered in sweat and my legs still tremble, but they move at my command. “I was just about to skewer you with a pitchfork. Is this really the time?”
“Sorry. Jokes are my coping mechanism when I’m freaking out. Speaking of out, we need to leave.” He offers me a hand, but I swat it away and push myself off the ground.
I grab my cloak from the floor and shake off the glass before wrapping it around my shoulders. “Do you know where we’re going?”
“Yeah. I found the way out. But we have to stay together. Take my hand.”
I hesitate before sighing and taking his outstretched palm. His hands are soft, and I’m painfully aware of how sweaty my own palms are. But if he notices, he doesn’t complain.
He leads me with a confidence I’ve not yet seen in him. Swerving through the mirrors, he only stops once to question the direction, then takes off through the maze without hesitation. My chest heaves as I pant to keep up.
Seriously, who is he?
“Are you saying the mirrors didn’t get to you at all?” I ask between breaths. “They never showed you the worst of yourself?”
“I guess this is as bad as it gets.” Nate shrugs. “I should probably be offended.”
A laugh bubbles up my throat. How is he so self-assured and so self-deprecating at the same time? Perhaps one is covering for the other. I know how that feels.
Lowering my head, I focus on my feet as Nate leads us to the exit and grins triumphantly. I try to smile back, but it dies on my lips as I catch my reflection before we exit the lot. The horns and tail are only shadows now, black smoke surrounding my form, but they’re still there. I follow him out the door, my gaze on the back of his head.
This place revealed me for the monster I am but had no effect on the boy sent here because of the monster he once was.
Suddenly I’m not sure which one of us I should be more afraid of.
XV.
My legs tremble as we cross the bridge from the lot. Nate watches me, concern etched in his features. I pull the hood over my head and stare ahead. He doesn’t need to see how those mirrors unnerved me.
We steal across a second bridge, and I relax as we approach another wall of caverns.
