Page 42 of Devil's Delirium

He barked out a laugh. Then, noticing my retreat, he cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“Huh?” I squeaked, high-pitched and not at all nonchalant like I’d been going for. “Nothing.” I turned around to face the mirrors. “Weshould search around for the matches since that's what we need.” My voice echoed slightly in the vast room, and the end of my sentence raised as if declaring our request to whatever entity might be listening.

He huffed but seemed to agree, his silhouette a dark figure against the sputtering glow. The mirrors seemed to watch us, reflecting our every move in strange, discordant ways as we took opposite sides, inspecting the room. Each step disturbed the thick layer of dust on the floor, sending up small clouds that suffused the stale air, tearing at my throat and making my eyes water.

There was nothing in here but dusty mirrors and random items dotting the floor. A tattered hat lay discarded near the wall, its brim coated in grime. An empty, dusty bottle of water sat forlornly beside a broken chair leg, its plastic surface dulled by time. A bloody denim jacket was draped carelessly over a cracked footstool, the dark stains contrasting sharply with the faded blue fabric. It occurred to me we hadn’t seen any dead bodies except for the ones we’d watched die.

One section of the mirror had been shattered, the jagged pieces scattered across the floor like the remnants of a broken dream. The shards glinted ominously in the light, birthing grotesque, disjointed reflections that made the room feel even more surreal.

As I moved closer to the broken mirror, I felt my blood run cold. The reflections in the shards were fragmented and twisted, creating a macabre illusion. The air pulsed, and I could feel the presence of something unseen, watching us from beyond the reflections.

I knelt down carefully, avoiding the sharp edges of the glass, and examined the area around the shattered mirror. The light glimmered through the shards in an almost hypnotic dance. My fingers brushed against something small and metallic amidst the debris—but it disappeared at the same moment.

“What the fuck,” I mumbled. But in the stillness of the room, it echoed, bouncing against the walls like a pinball. Reaper scrutinized me, his expression unreadable, and started making his way toward me.

As he approached, the air grew heavier, my heartbeat picked up, and the sense of unease intensified. The mirrors, now more like silent sentinels, reflected our every move, creating an endless loop of our actions. I stood up, and we exchanged a look that spoke volumes. The stifling atmosphere of the room, the eerie reflections, and the strange, random items disappearing on contact all pointed to the presence of something much more sinister at play.

Reaper clutched my arm and turned to do a quick sweep of the room, peering up at the ceiling.

“We know you’re here. Just come tell us what the fuck you want,” he announced.

The sense of being watched, of not being alone in this decaying ballroom, was overwhelming. The next step was uncertain, but I knew what the result would be. Still, I had to keep searching for a way out of my haunted nightmare of a life. It couldn’t get any worse, even if that vision played out exactly as it did.

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Echoes of Desire

Tess

“Clever chaps, aren’t you?”a Mid-Atlantic voice echoed everywhere. We spun around to see another spirit.

This one was dressed like a guy from the nineteen-twenties with a big, creepy smile plastered across his face. He wore brown slacks held up by suspenders, a crisp white shirt, and a newsboy hat perched jauntily on his head. The dim light glimmered through him. That unnaturally wide grin and the sinister glint in his eyes had my hairs standing on end.

“We were told everything we need is in here. Where is it?”Reaper demanded.

The spirit laughed, a chilling sound that echoed through the room. “Seems our friend there believes the world’s a buffet, free for the taking. But here’s the hardest lesson of all: nothing comes without a price.”

Reaper groaned, his frustration evident. “What do you want?”

The spirit’s smile spread more, revealing rows of sharp, pointed teeth that glinted ominously in the faint light. His eyes darkened to an abyssal black, the transformation raising goosebumps down my arms. I recoiled instinctively, but Reaper pulled me closer, his arm a protective barrier around me. I relaxed against him at first but then tensed, the vision I’d had flashing in my mind. A warmth from my core buzzed inside me, and I held my breath, perplexed by the sensation coursing through me.

My emotional response to that vision both terrified and excited me in equal measure. Reaper had been violent and dominating; a part of me knew I should be running away, certainly not getting wet, when he wrapped his arm around my waist. But here I was, a daydream of that violent vision humming in the back of my mind.

Reaper, pressing me to the floor, fisting my hair, and wrenching my head back as he slammed into me.

“You still with us, petit monstre?” he rumbled into my ear, his voice a deep, resonant purr.

I shuddered, the intimate term sending a jolt through me. “Uh huh. Yeah.” I swallowed hard, struggling to focus, unable to direct my attention away from every inch of skin he was touching.

He chuckled softly, a dark, knowing sound, and squeezed me tighter twice, which seemed reassuring and possessive. Then, he directed his attention back to the spirit. “Well?”

Suddenly, loud circus-like organ music blared through the room, jarring and surreal, accompanied by flashing red lights that cycledaround us without any discernible source. The sound was disorienting, the cacophony of notes and the rapid strobe of lights making the room spin. The mirrors reflected the chaos, multiplying the flashing lights and the eerie images of our distorted reflections. The atmosphere grew even more suffocating, a combination of the noise and light adding to an unbearable sense of dread within me.

I clung to Reaper, the sensory overload making it impossible to think. Yet the spirit’s grin never faltered, his eyes gleaming with malevolent amusement. As he watched our discomfort, the air seemed to thicken, pressing down on us, and I felt a cold sweat break out on my forehead. We had to find a way out of this nightmare—and fast.

He straightened his posture, a sly grin tugging at his lips as he adopted the air of a master showman as the music’s volume dropped just enough. “The mirrors before you possess a power beyond your wildest imaginings,” he began, his voice dripping with dramatic flair. “Each one will reveal a fragment of your very soul.”

“Get on with it. What do you want?”

He ignored Reaper, his eyes glinting with devilry. “When you touch them, they will unveil your dream, your despair, your desire, your death, your destruction, your delirium, or your destiny.”

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