Page 16 of Not Today, Satan
I’m definitely going to redecorate when I take over.
IfI take over.
The walls are black, giving off the feeling of standing in a gaping hole. It’s hard to tell where they end and the floors begin.
As a kid, I’d walked into those walls plenty of times. I made Father hang up drawings I’d done so I would stop bruising my nose. Those pictures are nowhere to be found now.
It hurts how quickly my own dad discards me, but it’s not surprising. Thousands of years punishing sinners hasn’t exactly taught him to be warm and fuzzy.
The only colors in the room are the gold embellishments on the bed frame, Father’s severed crimson wings splayed on the wall above the bed, and the wooden desk in the corner. I prefer the sea-blue hues of my own walls.
I’m not sure how long I’ll have till Father returns. If he’s not up on Earth or in judgment, he’s in this room.
It’s like he’s already left Hell in his mind. He has just under one year left, but he’s pretty much given up on this place. I asked him where he planned to go when he gave me the ring, and he wouldn’t say. He got a strange look on his face and told me it wasn’t a child’s business.
Apparently I’m grown-up enough to run the entire Underworld, but knowing where my father plans to spend his retirement is too much.
I perch on the edge of the mattress and fiddle with the gold tassel on his pillowcase. My knee bounces on the mattress, and I stand up and start for the door—only to sit back down again.
If I leave now, I won’t learn the truth about Nathan Reynolds. And I need to know. Because if Father’s wrong about him, who else could he be wrong about?
I sprawl like a starfish on Father’s bed and sigh. I’ve taken many naps here when he’s away on business. He has the most comfortable mattress in the Underworld. I’m definitely keeping this bed when I take the throne.
The fact that I haven’t slept at all creeps into my bones, and I squish deeper into the mattress. Sliding my hand under the silk pillowcase, I frown when something slices my skin.
“Ow.” I jump up and shove my bleeding finger into my mouth.
With my free hand, I pull out a black leather book. It’s either a journal or a photo album of some kind.
What the—?
I flip it over, and my entire body goes cold.
A single word is embossed in gold across the cover. Not a word, but a name. A name I know well:
DINA
Goose bumps race across my flesh, even though the room is a cozy—for my father—one hundred and thirty degrees. I haven’t heard or seen my mother’s name in years.
Father refuses to talk about her. I only know what I’ve been told by other demons. He hurled her into the Ignis River—the river of fire used to kill any demons who offend him—for being a traitor, right after I was born.
No one could tell me what she did, only that she betrayed him in the worst way possible and deserved to die. That story is part of why I’ve feared him my whole life. He had no trouble disposing of the woman he loved; what would he do if a daughter he barely tolerates pissed him off?
So why does he have a book with the name of the person who hurt him most underneath his pillow?
I trace the lettering on the cover, pressing hard enough to indent my flesh with her name. My hands tremble. Looking inside would mean betraying him myself.
But if there are any answers about what happened to Dina in here, I deserve to know. She was my mother, after all.
Sucking in a shaking breath, I open the book.
VIII.
It’s a photo album, as I suspected.
The first picture knocks the wind out of me. For a moment, I’m sure I’m staring in a mirror. My mother couldn’t have been much older than I am now when this photo was taken, and she looks exactly like me, down to our matching curves, long hair, and naturally dark red lips.
The only difference is her eyes. My heart flutters in my chest as I meet her gaze for the first time in my life. As opposed to my own violet eyes, my mother’s are golden, almost shimmering in the light. She’s laughing in the photo, her mouth wide with abandon, her cheeks flushed.
