Devil in the Details

TWENTY-ONE: Of Monsters and Men - Pt. 2

We walked in a fairly random fashion for the next twenty minutes. I was grateful we didn't run into anyone else, although I couldn't help but worry that I would be deemed a "threat" by the system and wander endlessly for years on end. I didn't voice my concerns aloud; I was too shaken by everything that had happened, too tired to open my mouth. I just wanted this journey to be done.

Yet as that thought crossed my mind, James tapped my arm suddenly. "Look!" he said, pointing.

We had somehow found ourselves in front of a skinny skyscraper. The awning over the front had a large "666" on it—something I'm sure Lana found amusing. It just made my stomach bubble.

We had arrived.

James looked up at me and asked, "How are you feeling?"

"Nervous. And scared. I can't believe we're actually here."

"You can do this," he said. "You've made it through the Underworld in one piece. And you were able to talk to her on Earth. It isn't any different here."

I wanted to contradict him, but instead I just squeezed him tightly. "Let's get this over with," I said, walking up the red-carpeted stairs and pushing my way into the lobby.

The entrance hall was extremely gaudy. The ceiling was covered in an intricate mural that reminded me of Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel. Only, once I paused to examine it, I realized that the angels in the sky looked miserable, eyes glazed, bodies limp with exhaustion. It was a rather miserable looking painting.

"I sense some projection," James murmured in my ear, and despite the nerves gurgling in my stomach, I couldn't help but let out a short laugh.

Further into the lobby, there was a single elevator off to the right and a desk to the left. I couldn't draw my eyes away from the man sitting behind the counter. He wore a black suit that clung to thick layers of muscle, and there was a large scar carved into his face. I wondered if that was how he had looked when he was alive—or perhaps that scar had caused his death—but erred on the side of caution and didn't ask him to explain.

"Name?" he asked in a deep voice that rivaled Morgan Freeman's.

"Jessa Brown," I said. "I'm here to see—"

"The Devil. Yes, she's expecting you." His eyes then swept downwards, locking on James, and he held out his hand. "I'll need to take the bear from you before you head up."

"Wait—what?"

"That item is from between realms. It's not allowed."

I looked down at James, who only managed a limp shrug.

My heart started to pound wildly. "Will... will I get him back afterwards?"

The man nodded.

I swallowed, looking down at James. "I have to give you up," I whispered, terrified.

"You can do it," he whispered back, squeezing my arm.

"I don't know if I can... Not on my own."

"You can, Jessa. You have to. And I'll be here when you get back."

I hoped he was right, but there was a very large part of me that was convinced that once I entered this elevator, I would never see the lobby again.

I held him to my chest and gave him a tight squeeze. "Thanks for everything, James," I said into his fur. Then I reluctantly handed him over to the concierge.

"Thank you," the man said, placing James gently on a shelf behind him. Then he nodded at the elevator. The doors, as if on cue, dinged open. "You can go up now."