God's Gone AWOL

[3] BACK AGAIN!

"We need to make a decision," said the angel, "Do we want to go 'Here', 'There', or 'Back Again'?"

"I just wanna get out of here, man. My break is supposed to start in five minutes."

Leslie was ignored.

"'Back Again'?" Bentley suggested.

"Do you think that'll take us back to the hotel lobby?" Atticus asked.

"I'm kinda curious about what's behind the other doors, though," she said.

"I'm not!" Leslie continued his wailing.

"Okay, okay. We'll go 'Back Again'!" She walked up to the third glowing door and wrenched it open.

It did not take them to the hotel lobby. It took them to an art gallery.

Except this art gallery was... weird. There was not a single person in sight, and was very dark, despite having windows and lights over all the displays. With elegant curved archways stretching out across several wide, open rooms bathing in low lights, the place looked like it could very well be a popular tourist destination. Stepping inside, Atticus looked around carefully. Some of the things on display were orthodox pieces of art: statues, traditional paintings, jewelry, all the typical mortal treasures. But some if it was more unusual: Bones, strange bottles of unknown contents, obscure musical instruments. At first glance, the place looked alright, but something about it felt wrong... Atticus couldn't quite figure it out.

"Ohoho... what is this place?" Bentley looked around with a delighted devilish grin.

"It's an art gallery," Atticus replied.

"An art gallery?? Since when is there an art gallery in the hotel?" Leslie once again felt the need to benefit the conversation with ignorance.

"We're not in the hotel anymore, haven't you been listening?" said Bentley, not even looking at him.

"I'm so lost," said Leslie, "I'm so lost. Could someone please just explain what's going on?"

What's going on? Who had any idea? They couldn't just tell the poor man that the three of them had mistakenly entered a pocket-realm made out of magic. And they certainly couldn't tell him they were looking for Lucifer, who was the most likely suspect behind the illusion in the first place. —Well actually, Atticus had promised Bentley he would wipe Leslie's memory during their brief Spanish conversation, so theoretically, they could go that route. However, Leslie might not have the best reaction to the truth whether or not his memory would be wiped later. So instead, Atticus just halted for a moment, and tried to come up with a decent alternative-truth to cover for them.

But Bentley beat him to it. Again.

"You're dreaming." she waved her fingers in the air.

"I'm... what?"

"You're dreaming. None of this is actually real and you're gonna wake up tomorrow in your own bed and forget about it, okay?"

"This is a dream?" Leslie asked, looking around at the gallery surrounding them, "Then why does it feel so real?"

"Haven't you ever heard of lucid dreams? Just accept it, Leslie. Play along, nothing's gonna hurt you,"

Leslie responded with a small "Okay" and then said nothing further. Once he had seemingly accepted the world around him as being a creation of his subconscious, the three split up. Bentley took the left wing of the gallery, Atticus took the right, and the human remained in the main hall, staring around at all the artefacts with a dazed expression.

They were each looking for something that could represent a door, or otherwise some way out of the gallery. Whether it would take them out of the enchantment, or just straight to Lucifer, Atticus didn't care. This place, despite having open air and wide rooms, still felt like an enclosure. It reminded Atticus of a box that a child had fashioned for holding some unknown and abused little critter, with holes poked in the top just so it could breathe. In this case, he was the critter. And he wanted out.