Page 51 of Not Today, Satan
We’d discussed at length how the objects shadelings see here are illusions, meant to draw them in and then punish them for their desires. But there was something else we’d talked about. The lengths sinners would go through to try to keep the items. They’d bury them, or sit on them, and sometimes, they’d ingest them.
When I’d asked Mr. B. how they were punished for that, he went a shade of green similar to the one Nate’s exhibiting now.
“They’re poisoned,” he’d said. “Their insides eaten by acid till they pass out from the pain. It’s very unpleasant.”
“Dammit, Nate.” I rub my temples with grime-caked fingers. “What have you done?”
A cry echoes from the forest, followed by longer wails, like the trees themselves are resonating with despair.
I curse under my breath as the sounds grow closer, rolling Nate onto his back before shaking his shoulders. “Come on. We have to get out of here.”
He opens his eyes, and I sit back on my feet, unclenching my jaw. “Devica?”
Placing my hand behind his shoulder, I help him into a sitting position. “Do you think you can stand?”
“Sure.” He boosts himself up, then drops like a boulder. “Nope.”
A shadeling emerges from the woods, trailed by at least twenty more. They surge forward when they spot us, their moans chorusing through the trees.
I sigh in exasperation and glance between them and the half-conscious boy on the ground.
Seriously, it’d be great if one thing in this place could be easy.
Grunting, I sling an arm over Nate’s shoulder. “Time to get up, Cake Boy.”
I push us off the ground until we’re standing. Nate leans against me like a boulder, pressing me into the mud.
I stagger to the exit, muttering at him to walk while dragging him behind me.
My muscles burn by the time I reach the door, and I prop him against the wall before I reach for the handle. The door moans in protest. It opens a crack before wedging itself in the mud. I curse under my breath and tug harder.
My back is soaked. Whether it’s mud or lake water or sweat, I have no clue. It could be all three. I clench my jaw and keep pulling.
Whoever thought mud by the exit was a good idea needs a stern talking-to.
Of course, no one’s opened this particular door in years. Unlike the entrance, it’s solid steel, its only function to trap the weak shadelings within.
Except I’m not a shadeling. And I’m not weak.
“Work with me here.” I plant my feet in the mud to brace myself, then yank as hard as I can. The door grinds against its hinges, but it opens wide enough for me to shimmy through.
Nate’s barely conscious when I heave him off the wall. He slouches over my shoulder, his chin digging into my neck. “Stay with me, Nate. We’re almost there.”
I yank him through the door as a shadeling makes an unsuccessful grab for my hair. The bridge leading off this cursed island and over the water is above us, the wooden planks sagging and swaying. It appears to be unguarded.
About time I catch a break.
A tall ladder leads up from where I’m standing to the bridge, and I chew the inside of my lip. Okay, maybe not as much of a break as I thought.
“Nate,” I say, “I’m going to carry you up to the bridge, but you need to help at least a little.”
I shift him with my hips so that he’s propped against my back. Then I lace his hands around my neck like the cloak I lost.
My bangs are plastered to my forehead. and I push them out of my way before gripping the steel ladder with a sweaty palm. “All you need to do is hold on. Think you can manage that?” Nate groans against my back. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
I start up, gripping each rail as he drags me down and grunting through my teeth. Sweat beads on my forehead and drips into my eye, but I don’t chance wiping it away.
“You smell like cookies,” Nate slurs from behind me. “Delicious.”
