Chapter 1: Don't Leave! We're Only Getting Started!
Chapter Text
Charlie felt like she was on cloud nine!
She knew she had a lot of work ahead of her. She had to figure out how Pentious was redeemed in the first place, as neither Heaven nor Hell knew how it happened. Emily said they would help with their end in Heaven while Charlie focused her efforts on getting the new hotel up and running.
Barely two months had passed, and the hotel had many new residents and staff, new schedules and ideas, and meetings. So many meetings. Not just with staff, either. She was speaking with the press. THE PRESS. Killjoy was still the worst—the absolute worst. That second interview did not go any better than the first, but Alastor and Rosie were fans of her song, so she'll count it as a win.
The new hotel was AMAZING! She seriously couldn't thank her dad enough for helping build it. Throughout the entire process, he arrived every morning with blueprints for her and her friends to review. He never took a choice away from them. He even got down and dirty with them if they wanted to build something by hand instead. Most importantly- she knew her friends appreciated this because they had a hard time telling her no when she got too enthusiastic- he kept her ideas for the rebuild cohesive. He never told her no. He just pointed out the limited space they were working with. And yeah, okay, she kept forgetting that people needed rooms to sleep in. BUT, her dad could literally build anything for her, and she just kept getting swept away by the ease he poofed entire floors into existence! What would have taken the best construction team in Pride a year and a soul contract to build. Her dad did it in a week! Running water, electricity, and wifi were done at the snap of a finger!
The hotel had everything she dreamed about! Therapy rooms, recreational areas, a small theater for movie nights, a gym, a pool, an outdoor yoga area, and a greenhouse to start garden therapy. They would want for nothing! Plus, between Alastor and her dad, they had some of THE STRONGEST protection magic second only to the palace.
Yep, cloud nine. The only place higher would be Heaven. She's been there, and while some of the angels are nice, the High Council—she's just gonna say it—are mean. Like she thought Adam was rude. Oh, she now understands why he was so into himself. His bosses were not nice. They put the meaning in 'holier-than-thou'.
Charlie remembered the first meeting right after the new hotel had been completed. It had been an emergency summon to attend Heaven's Embassy in Hell, and thank all of creation it had been on her home turf. She still feels so stupid for not realizing that Heaven’s Council would lay all the blame on her. In their words, it was her fault “for antagonizing Adam into war and costing needless bloodshed on both sides for something that could not be proven.” They demanded compensation of some sort, but she didn't hear the rest of their complaints. Her ears had begun ringing at that point.
Charlie just stood in the middle of that too-big room, jaw on the ground, lost. At the time, no one had known Pentious had been redeemed. It was Sera's dirty secret. Emily wasn't there. Her dad wasn't there. Charlie remembered thinking how weird it was that her dad wasn't a part of the meeting. The thought rolled into, “of course, he wasn't because he hated dealing with Heaven.” Which left her feeling more lost, alone, and scared as all those angry eyes stared down at her.
And then....and then....he appeared, and she had never seen her father like that before.
Between one blink and the next. Her dad was there. No poof of sparkling magic. No swirling portal. He just appeared. Standing between her and the Council. When he spoke, he didn't yell, but it filled every nook and cranny of the room and vibrated in her head. His voice chased out all thoughts until there was only his wintery, cold tone, "was there a reason I wasn't invited to this meeting?"
The High Council, even though they weren't in Hell. Even though her dad couldn't touch their holographic images, they were stuttering. Fumbling over themselves in fear, and it was at that moment Charlie realized why they didn't bring her to Heaven. They knew her father, Lucifer Morningstar, King of Hell, would have come for her. If the Council had tried to bring her to Heaven for punishment, it would have been their fault for bringing doom upon their doorstep.
That's why the Council had hoped to get Charlie to agree to something before her father could interfere. Anger bubbled up inside of her. Why did everyone always see her as an easy target?
Eventually, Sera spoke. She fed the King the same lines the Council had given Charlie. Lucifer hummed before snapping his fingers and creating two high-back chairs for him and Charlie to sit in. Then he said lightly, "There's a few things wrong with your assessment."
He leaned forward and placed his gloved hands on the apple of his cane, "first, Heaven broke their contract with me regarding the exterminations on two fronts," he held two fingers up, "the first, no hellborns should be harmed in any way during the exterminations." He put one finger down, "Charlie is the Princess of Hell. She is my daughter of flesh and blood. Making her hellborn. She was attacked directly by Adam. But even if that hadn't happened, there was another clause in the contract insisted upon by Sera that was broken prior to the incident at the Hazbin Hotel."
Sera stood and slammed her hands down. Her eyes wide. Face pale. "Lucifer! That...that was not something we agreed upon!"
The King smiled. It was a cold and twisted thing. He flicked his wrist, an action that would soon throw the room into chaos. Long golden papers flashed through the room, stopping in front of everyone present. "I urge you to read again. As I asked you and Adam to do when you signed the first time. And I believe I even clarified it with you when you were leaving that first meeting."
There shimmering before Charlie was the contract that had condemned her people to thousands of years of senseless slaughter. As she read, it was clear Heaven had come out on the other end with a far better deal than Hell had.
Here are a few of the highlights that made her blood boil:
Every year, Heaven would declare the number of sinners they wanted to purge based on Hell's population. Hell would provide Heaven with a yearly report on Hell’s population so the Exorcists could perform their duties.
Lucifer Morningstar could not house any sinners within his Palace besides the Royal Family. Nor could he provide any protection to sinners.
*No Hellborns could be harmed in any way by any Holy means, including. It was a very long list of things Heaven could not do.
Lucifer Morningstar must stay confined to his dwelling during the exterminations unless there is an emergency in another ring.
As Charlie read on, she noticed there were many things her father wasn't allowed to do. When she was younger, Charlie had always wondered why the royal family could never help sinners. Now she knows it’s because her father was under house arrest and not allowed to use any power WHAT. SO. EVER.
"Sera!" Another Council member shouted, "what is the meaning of this?"
While Charlie had been wrapped up in what her father couldn't do and Heaven could, the rest had found the fine print. Noticing her confused expression, Lucifer smiled warmly and leaned over to point down near the bottom, maybe six more lines before the signatures of her dad, Adam, and Sera. It lit up for her to see better:
*No personnel in Heaven, outside of those involved with Exterminations, should know about its operation.
Her dad then pointed to a statement at the bottom:
If more than three agreements or any agreement with a star(*) are broken, this contract is void, and the parties must reenter negotiations.
Charlie looked back at her father with wide eyes as more and more of the Council demanded answers from Sera. How could Sera miss this? Did she forget about the terms she had agreed to? Charlie didn't think so.
Sera's voice boomed, "be that as it may! Lucifer Morningstar, you knew the contract was void, and yet you allowed Adam-"
"Annnnnnnt!" Lucifer blurted like a game show buzzer over Sera's desperate bid to regain control. The cold smile slipped onto him again. "You should have received a warning. I did. Something like a punch to the gut. And I remember trying to reach out to you, Sera. But you never answered my call. Why?"
Sera didn't answer. Her eyes held the King’s defiantly. Her hands clenched into tight fists.
Lucifer sighed sadly. His face turned solemn as he nodded and leaned back into his chair. His voice sounded tired as his head tipped down. His hat obscured his face from view. "I followed my end of the contract for years. Sat back and watched as you killed all those sinners outside my window. Little sister." Sera flinched at the address, but she did not look away. Her gaze stayed firm. Her head held high. "All I asked in return is the same fairness I showed you. Stick to your end of the agreement. Instead, you ignored it. Came into my home and attacked my blood. And then lied. Lied to me. And lied to your own people."
"Lucifer, I..." Sera stammered. She looked around at the judging eyes now turned onto her. "I have done what I needed to protect Heaven."
Lucifer scoffed. "I have no love for a title I received some millennia ago. You are welcome to it. I think it suits you much better. Princes of Lies."
Sera spat with pure venom, "you!"
"No! You!" It echoed. Hundreds of voices screaming from every corner of Hell. His eyes turned red, and his horns shot toward the ceiling with the angry fires from the depths of Hell between them. His tail lashed about his feet as he stood slowly. "I know how you use me as your cautionary tale to warn the young ones. To keep them in line lest they fall like me. I know the power of fear." Lucifer's face twisted with disgust and hate as he glared at Council. "And in your paranoia to fight an enemy that has never existed, you have poisoned Heaven with your fear, and my home has paid the consequence. You have used up the last of my generosity."
Another official raised to his feet quickly. "Sh-surely there is some kind of compromise we can reach here. We can forgive you for the death of Adam and reach a new deal."
Lucifer laughed incredulously. "Why would I need your forgiveness?” He shook his head. “You need mine.” His Hellish features fell away as he returned to his seat. “If you want to make amends then return a soul to me that was lost during the battle that started this farce."
Charlie noticed Sera tense, while the others looked confused. "We cannot revive a soul, no more than Hell could. Such things would break the governing laws."
Lucifer nodded. "Normally, I would agree. But this soul I request was once one of my realm..."
It couldn't be. Charlie's heart was pounding as she stared at her father. She leaned forward.
Her father explained, "during the battle he sacrificed himself to protect my daughter and her friends from Adam. He was killed by Adam."
Charlie's hands clenched together. Somewhere, distantly, someone was yelling for her father to stop talking. His eyes never left the official.
"I felt his soul pass from Hell to Heaven. His name is," Lucifer frowned, "ah, forgive me sinners like to change their names when they come to Hell." The King turned to Charlie. His smile was mischievous, and his eyes were sparkling with joy. "What's that snake friend of yours name again?"
Charlie's heart soared. She leaped out of her chair and crashed into her father, squeezing him with everything she had. "Sir Pentious!" she cried.
She'll admit, the rest of that meeting was a blur as she spent it ugly crying. And then ugly crying with her friends again, who had been waiting nervously back at the hotel. Sera couldn't hide the truth anymore, and Charlie had left that meeting seeing her father in a different light.
And every negotiation meeting after that, too. Her love and respect for him grew. She didn't exactly understand why Heaven feared him. She knew he was powerful, but like her, he seldom used his powers to hurt or intimidate others. However, she also knew there was a past between her dad and Heaven she knew nothing about. And that was where their fear was rooted.
In the end, after long hours of arguing and stonewalling and the few times her father literally had them walk out when the angels were being particularly difficult, they reached an agreement. They would back the hotel. Heaven would back the HER hotel!
The downside, an unfortunate sticking point, was that no one knew why or how Sir Pentious was redeemed. But everyone was willing to figure it out and try again! So there was work to be done, and...
"Charlie," one of her new hellborn staff called from the doorway of her office, pulling the princess away from her reminiscing. Her father had been absolutely adamant about this: All new stuff had to be hellborn. Alastor hadn't been a fan of that idea. Nonetheless, he helped vet every single new employee, conducting thorough background checks across the board.
"Yes, Gabby," Charlie smiled at the winged imp.
"The King is checking out," Gabby said, nervously fiddling with her fingers, "he asked me to come tell you he'll be leaving around 1pm and wanted to see if your schedule is clear."
The smile dropped right off Charlie's face. Her eyes shot up to her digital clock above one of her many whiteboards. It read 12.30 pm. Her chair slammed against the wall in her haste to get up. "Where is he?"
"Doing a last round," Gabby squeaked.
Charlie rushed past the imp and pulled out her phone. Her heart steadily climbed into her throat as she dialed his number. It went straight to voicemail. "No. No. No." She muttered, racing down the hall. Her dad always answered. He'd been good about always answering recently, ever since he learned that Lilith never did for the last seven years.
She waved absently at a startled Vaggie and Alastor as she tore down another hall in her mad search. Why did she think it was a good idea to make this place so big? Who needed a gym? Everyone gets plenty of exercise running for their lives in Hell. They did a survey. Like four people gave the gym 3 out of 5 stars. Did they really need this many floors, too? Was she still on the first floor?
Charlie crashed into the bar’s counter, startling Husk and a resident. Her chest heaved from running or panicking. She couldn't tell right now. Her phone read 12:45 pm. Why wasn't he answering?
"Breath, Charlie," Husk placed a paw on her hand.
She turned wild eyes on him, "have you seen my dad?"
"My dear, what's all this rushing about?" Alastor popped up on her left side just as Vaggie jogged up to her right.
She didn't have time for this. He could be gone already. "I have to find him!" She gasped, pushing Alastor out of her way and running for the second floor.
Vaggie joined her step for step. "Your dad?"
Charlie nodded. Her vision going a little dizzy. "They said he's leaving. And he's not answering his phone. He said he'd always answer because mom doesn't and he's not--"
Vaggie grabbed her hand and pulled her to a stop. "Babe. Let's take a moment and breathe. I'm sure there's a good reason for all this. Okay."
"But he's not answering," Charlie nearly yelled, holding her hellphone up to emphasize her point. It rang and rang until it went to voicemail again. Vaggie pulled it out of Charlie’s hand and turned it off.
"Woah! What's with all the waterworks, Dollface?" Angel called as he strolled down one of the many, many halls with Cherri Bomb in tow.
Why do they have so many halls? Charlie realized she was becoming unreasonably hysterical with each passing second she couldn't locate Lucifer.
"We're looking for the King," Husk panted from trying to keep up with Charlie’s mad dash.
Cherri pointed over her shoulder with a thumb. "Just saw him head to the theater for a phone call."
Charlie took off full speed until she reached the theater room at the end. It's small, with four rows going down, and big enough to seat 20 people. At the bottom, near the large screen, was Lucifer, pacing back and forth.
Since staying at the hotel, he started dressing down. Most days, he wore a light-colored button-down shirt with rolled sleeves. Sometimes, he switched between slacks or jeans. Today, he chose black slacks. Instead of heels, he opted for sneakers with apple patterns on them. His hair was down, hanging messily around his face and pointed ears. He was chattering away on his phone in his left hand while lazily drawing shapes with glittering sparkles from his right. Small shooting stars fell as the shapes faded from the air, burning out just before they hit the carpet.
"No. Yeah. I get it," he laughed awkwardly, "but I'm gonna be real here and try to keep with me now. Just because they're in love doesn't mean lust is weak. In some cases, it makes lust even stronger if you got the right partner."
Her dad turned dramatically on one foot as he hit the end of the room, his eyes rolling in annoyance. "That sounds like a YOU problem, buddy. You have more important things to worry about. The reports I'm getting, Manny. Let me be clear. I'm not liking them. You have a job to do, and it doesn't seem like you're doing it."
Her dad stopped in the middle of the room, where the stairs divided the seating arrangements into two parts. He frowned and ran his hand through his blond hair. His voice suddenly went cold, just like that day in the meeting. It's anger. A final warning, Charlie realized, and unlike the angels, she knows the being on the other side of this call. "You know," her dad began, words drawn out with deceptive calm. "I've given you a lot of chances. Not because I wanted to," his words were picked carefully. Charlie found she couldn't breathe for a different reason. "Not because I like you. Or you've been doing a good job. But because your siblings asked I give you a chance. Lately, they haven't had one good thing to say about you. How am I supposed to take that?" Her dad paused. Then lightly, "Have you finally worn them out? Have they no love left for you?" His voice turned hard, "Clean it up, Manny, or I will. And we know what happened the last time I had to fix someone else's ring."
Lucifer hung up, closed his eyes, and sighed. The tension in the air was thick. It clotted inside Charlie's throat, making it difficult to form words past it. In a small voice, Charlie finally called out, "Dad?"
Startled, he whipped his head to look up at her. "Charlie?" His eyes drifted behind her. He added awkwardly, "and friends."
Charlie forced her body to move, which caused her to stumble down the steps. Thankfully, her dad rushed to catch her before she painfully face-planted at the bottom. Vaggie was right behind her. Both fallen angels worried over her as she got her bearings. Alastor helpfully explained Charlie's distress while everyone else was still shaking off, witnessing what could only be described as the King of Hell at work. "Our dear Charlotte worked herself into quite the tizzy when she learned you were checking out, Your Majesty."
"You weren't answering your phone," Husk added grumpily. He crossed his arms over his chest. His grumpy expression turned even more sour.
Lucifer and Vaggie finally righted Charlie and helped her into one of the giant bean bags at the bottom of the theater's steps. Charlie sank into it. Her chest was tight. Her hand refused to let Lucifer go. Alright, this might be her abandonment issues flaring up big time. If her dad leaves, she'd have Vaggie schedule an appointment with one of their therapists because she'll be too busy finding solace at the bottom of an ice cream bucket to do it herself.
Lucifer's face twisted regretfully as he looked Charlie over. He ran a gloved hand over her cheek, wiping away tears she didn't even realize were falling. "Oh, I'm sorry. I should have answered," he said softly.
"Did I do something?" Charlie choked out.
"What? No," Lucifer shook his head. He turned his hand so she could hold him better. She remembered when his hands used to be so much bigger than hers. He used to be so much bigger than her. They lost so much time already. Were they going to lose more if he left?
"Then why? I thought," she sniffed, "you built a room."
Lucifer took a deep breath and then smiled. It was like the ones she practiced in the mirror, only this one was so much brighter. Her mom used to call her the sun and her dad the star. Charlie got it now. It was warm. It made the ache in her chest unclench. His head tilted, and his eyes sparkled like the glitter of his magic. "Is that what the room is for?" he asked, playfully confused.
And just like she had as a child who knew she was being tricked and couldn't help but join. "Well, duh, Silly," she giggled wetly, "what else would we use it for?"
Lucifer crossed his legs and sat. He rested his head on a raised fist and pretended to think. His thumb rubbed against the back of her hand, still desperately holding onto his. "Husk's new bar! It's got a great view. I'm sure the residents would love it."
Charlie shook her head. A smile grew on her face.
"No!" Lucifer gasped dramatically.
Somewhere behind her, Angel whispered, "what the fuck is happening?"
"Shh," Cherri hissed, "they're having a moment."
And yeah, they were, weren't they?
Even though she was surrounded by all her important people, her dad wasn't looking at any of them. He wasn't fighting with Alastor. Or awkwardly trying to converse with Husk and Angel. All his attention was focused on Charlie like it hadn't been in ages.
"What do you want it to be, Love?" He asked softly.
"I want it to be your home," she said without a second thought. She wanted that so badly.
Lucifer closed his eyes, and when they opened again, it was like clouds covered a starry sky. "I don't think that's a good idea," his smile turned sad. “And it's not just because of the depression stuff. I'm," he sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat, "I’m difficult to live with."
"So da rest of us, buddy," Angel snorted, "yous seen some da people liven here now. Shit, we live with Smiles!"
Lucifer still didn't take his eyes off Charlie. He held her gaze, and for a moment, one horrible moment, it felt like she was falling again. Not just down the steps. But down into a cold abyss. Into an expensive void of nothingness. Her lungs filled with so much air she felt lightheaded. Stars burst before her eyes as the void exploded. Tossing her through a whirling vortex of light until she crushed back into her body. She jolted violently. She inhaled like she was returning from underwater. Vaggie was by her side in an instant. Her hold grounded Charlie as she looked around wildly.
"What?" Charlie swallowed around the dryness in her mouth. Her eyes finally landed on Lucifer, who had covered his eyes and tilted his head down. "Dad?"
"I'm sorry," he replied, strained. "I shouldn't have done that."
"What did you do to her?" Vaggie growled.
Lucifer shrugged and gave a helpless, hollow laugh. "I don't know how else to make you understand. Your mother took you away for a," his voice cut off. Restarted his thought. "She wanted to protect you. I slip up sometimes. Things like that happen. The abilities I have make it hard for others to be around me. I'm not always 100% here."
He took a shuddering breath and slowly looked up. Noticeably, his gaze was slightly off-center to everyone. "There's a lot about me we purposefully kept from others. Being here," he shook his head and smiled that sad smile Charlie now hated with 100% of her being. "I don't want it to harm what you're trying to do here, Love."
Charlie thought about a lot of things: how he effortlessly rebuilt the hotel, the fear Heaven has for him, and the indescribable experience she just had.
But also about the subtle ways he has been trying to make people less afraid of him. How he doesn't wear his royal attire around the hotel. How he helps out with mundane chores when asked.
She also thought back to that contract and how he was forced to sit in the palace and do nothing while Heaven killed sinners every year. The fact that Lilith abandoned him to his solitude and kept Charlie away from her father. In truth, she had always been curious about her dad, about why her mom wanted to keep them apart. Now she was getting answers and...well, she didn't want to lose this chance.
Lucifer was just sitting in front of her. Face blank. She knows he won't be angry if she agrees to let him leave. They can figure out how to rebuild their broken bond another way...
Yeah...
Since when has anyone in their family done shit the easy way.
"You're staying," Charlie said with grim determination. She reached out and forced him to meet her gaze. "I'm not letting you go when I finally got you back."
Lucifer sighed. "Counter offer," he pulled her hands down from his rosy cheeks. "Six months. If, between now and then, you, your friends, staff, or residents find living with me to be difficult, you may ask me to leave. No judgment from me. In return, I will try and," he thought for a second, "provide explanations on what things you should be on the lookout for while living with me." His smile turned to weary amusement. "I'm certain I have pamphlets or safety videos around from when I had staff."
Charlie wanted to push it. Tell him that they didn’t need a deal for him to stay at the hotel. The hotel was about second chances, after all. But when she looked around at her friends, all save Alastor seemed nervous. Six months. Make redemption work and prove that her dad wasn't a dangerous monster to live with...she could do this. "Deal."
She held out a hand, and Lucifer huffed. "Your mom would be so mad with me right now." He shook her hand. In hindsight, she should have asked her dad what happens when you make a deal with the Devil because Hell's Bell! A flash of light later, Charlie stared at the ceiling slightly on fire. Vaggie was yelling at her dad. Alastor and Cherri were losing oxygen from laughing way too hard. It was really only Husk and Angel who were trying to put her out.
"Your handshake exploded," Husk explained, "Your dad said you're fine, though, but Vaggie won't let him near you."
Alright, that at least gave her a starting place. Get Vaggie to like Dad. She'd get right on that. Tomorrow.
Chapter 2: The Importances Of Labels
Summary:
His brain kept skipping like a record. It may have to do with Lucifer's look. It was somewhere in the realm of an uncanny valley. Human adjacent, or not enough human that the brain's alarms weren't entirely sending danger signals. Maybe his brain had subconsciously known the King was the most powerful being in all of Hell, but Husk hadn’t wanted to admit that the duck-obsessed, awkward guy was one and the same. The moment in the theater finally dragged the knowledge to the forefront so he wouldn't forget again. Husk couldn’t help but feel like he had been lured into a false sense of security by the little angel acting like everyone else. Acting normal by taking the fucking stairs when he could teleport wherever he wanted.
Notes:
Writing Husk's POV was fun!
Trying to show don't tell what something is, is damn tough.
How do you show what Lucifer's powers are without doing a whole lore dump?For this chapter, I did my absolute best to show what some of the abilities are.
Side note: Does anyone else remember the show Lie To Me? Damn, I loved it!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Husk liked to think he knew a thing or two about reading people. It wasn't just about chatting someone up or guessing who had the worst hand. The real story was in a person’s body language. You could tell a lot about someone by how they fidgeted between their words. Where their eyes looked when trying to remember something, or how they avoided contact when lying. Whether the person's smile was genuine or for show by the wrinkles around the eyes. Husk could write books about reading nonverbal cues.
Since bartending at the hotel slash wannabe-rehabilitation-center-for-fuckups-seeking-second-chance-into-heaven, Husk thought he got a pretty good handle on who the other occupants were. A flirty spider demon trying to rediscover his worth outside sex. A bleeding heart Princess with daddy issues who wanted to solve everyone's problems but her own. An ex-exorcist angel tough on herself and others while being codependent on her significant other.
Niffty.
Alastor was a bundle of contradictions with a cryptic moral compass. Cruel, egotistical, vain. Yet, he could be kind. Husk has seen it in how Alastor treated Niffty and the Cannibal Overlord Rosie. Hell, Alastor has even shown Husk some measure of respect over the years the two have known each other. There were a few lines Alastor won't cross with those he owned, and Husk has always been begrudgingly grateful for avoiding a Valentino-style agreement.
Cherri Bomb was a new addition to their merry band of idiots with the newly built hotel. All wild party energy but a softy for those she loved. She loved furiously, too, as strong as any explosive she wielded.
The one continuously throwing Husk for a loop was the other new addition to their flock, the King of Hell, Prince of Pride, and Charlie's dad, Lucifer Morningstar.
When they first meet Lucifer all those months ago - and he had that awkward sing-off for Charlie's affection with Alastor- Husk labeled him with a few things:
Arrogant - he saw himself and Charlie above Sinners and thought the hotel was a complete joke.
Awkward - His interactions with Charlie were just painful to watch. The sing-off with Alastor made Husk cringe.
Desperate - he so badly wanted Charlie to ask for his help.
Coward - he was afraid to help Charlie get in touch with Heaven. Kind of understandable. They threw him out, which probably wasn't a pleasant parting.
Then Extermination Day happened, and Husk had to reevaluate all his labels for the King while the First Man was easily tossed around. Lucifer didn't break a sweat while Husk and the rest of them were all beaten bloody and clinging to life by the skin of their teeth. The only reason Lucifer hadn't killed Adam was because of Charlie, but Husk was sure the short king would have done it.
Then, while rebuilding the hotel, Husk got the sense Lucifer was holding back. While the King did use magic to build large sections of the hotel, he also assisted in the more minimal tasks of moving debris and laying cement for the foundation BY HAND. What surprised everyone most was how Lucifer asked questions and drew up designs before putting plans into action. It gave the gang agency over the rebuild— a smart move on Lucifer's part, if Husk was being honest.
There were also times when Lucifer appeared and disappeared throughout the reconstruction. They would later find out he was splitting his time between building the hotel during the day and healing the Cannibals during the evenings who had been injured during the battle with Heaven. It was Rosie's 'thank you basket' that ratted him out. Apparently, Lucifer had no issues cooking up some angels for stew and shared the best way to get the most out of the meat. Vaggie stared at Lucifer for several horrifying seconds until he assured her he had no plans of becoming a cannibal. He also didn't elaborate on how he knew how to cook angel meat, and Alastor hadn't been present yet to ask.
Now Husk wasn't there for the meetings with the angels or any of the negotiations thereafter, but if it was anything like the phone call they walked in on in the theater room, Husk gets why Heaven was quakin’ in their boots because FUCK THAT! Husk doesn't usually get cold. Built-in fur coat helps with that kind of thing, but the way Lucifer's voice had made him feel at that moment. It hadn't just scared him. The fallen angel’s voice chilled his bones. Froze his breath in his chest until it felt like he'd never breathe again. There was no survival instinct triggered to run and hide. Death was there. Lay down and take it. He was dead. Remember you're dead, and this is Hell, and he is your King. Holy fuck!
All that mess disappeared at the same time the phone call ended. No wonder Charlie fell down the stairs. Husk sat in the first chair he could. Fighting down the tremble in his paws and wobble in his knees. One look around showed no one else, except fucking Alastor, who probably delighted in the whole thing, was fairing any better.
After Angel and him had put the fires out from the deal Charlie had struck with her OWN father- the literal Devil- Husk returned to his bar on the first floor. He once again found himself relabeling Lucifer. Trying to pick apart the King's mystery while knowing it was probably a fruitless endeavor but unable to stop regardless.
Prideful yet humble. Desperate for approval yet self-assured. A coward but protective. Awkward yet easy-going. Thoughtful and selfish.
Above all else, Lucifer was Powerful. Although he didn't flaunt it openly.
Over the two months he's been in the hotel, Lucifer tended to do everything by hand. Cooked, made coffee, took the stairs or elevator. Hell, he even washed the dishes by hand and ignored Alastor's heavy teasing in the process. He only seemed to use magic to clean stains off his clothes or fix whatever broke if Alastor wasn't around to do it first.
Lucifer seemed to prefer to live like any regular hotel resident. He attended some group activities and assisted around the hotel as staff. If he wasn't needed, he would disappear to do his own thing or make an awkward effort to hang with residents, especially those close to Charlie. The attempts were amusing, if not a little sad, to watch. Angel was clearly on a mission to see how far he could take his flirting. Cherri looked more manageable for Lucifer. Alastor, now that he was back, was searching for every possible way to piss Lucifer off. Husk wasn't sure if his boss had a death wish or just like picking fights with the biggest threat in the room. Given Alastor's history, Husk was banking on the latter.
Either way, Lucifer adopted a unique way of handling Alastor, which went one of two ways. Lucifer would stare at the Deer Demon blankly, providing no reactions to whatever Alastor said. Or politely request, with the fakest confusion Husk has ever seen, Alastor to explain his joke on the bases, 'If one has to explain their joke, it's not really funny.' A brilliant play, if Husk was honest. He took all the fight out of Alastor and sent the red bastard to huff in one of his dark, shadowy corners.
Oddly enough, Niffty got along with the guy best of all. No one knew how Lucifer pulled that off, and it seemed to miff Alastor quite a bit.
Husk shook his head as he set about cleaning his station. The last of the night crowd cleared out with the evening curfew setting in. A few imps swept through with reminders for residents to finish up and last-minute check-ins. He quickly moved around his little parlor, picking up used glasses from tables. Half his mind stuck hours back in the theater room. His brain trying to reconcile the image of the last two months of a friendly, awkward Lucifer with the chilling King Husk saw making that threatening phone call.
His brain kept skipping like a record. It may have to do with Lucifer's look. It was somewhere in the realm of an uncanny valley. Human adjacent, or not enough human that the brain's alarms weren't entirely sending danger signals. Maybe his brain had subconsciously known the King was the most powerful being in all of Hell, but Husk hadn’t wanted to admit that the duck-obsessed, awkward guy was one and the same. The moment in the theater finally dragged the knowledge to the forefront so he wouldn't forget again. Husk couldn’t help but feel like he had been lured into a false sense of security by the little angel acting like everyone else. Acting normal by taking the fucking stairs when he could teleport wherever he wanted.
Now that Husk was picking things apart, another detail that stood out was how Lucifer requested everyone refer to him by name rather than by title. The King didn't like formalities because they separated him from everyone. It put him in the OTHER category. He wanted to blend in because that's what a PREDATOR does. Blends into their environment. And formalities were a warning bell. A way to alert the others that danger IS here.
Husk yanked a bottle of cheap booze from his privately allocated stock. He dropped heavily onto a stool, flicked the cap off the bottle with a claw, and took a mighty swig. He was spiraling. Thoughts and worries collided with each other. He hadn't felt so overwhelmingly helpless even when he had gambled his soul away to Alastor. The Radio Demon had at least allowed Husk to believe he could win it all back.
That one label kept flashing like a neon sign, the brightest star in the sky: Powerful.
His brain skipped again. For some reason, the label didn't feel right. Even with the King sitting right beside him, he didn't feel a lick of that overwhelming energy he felt on Extermination Day. Even the weakest deal-maker put out some type of energy or noise in Alastor's case. The radio fucker was always broadcasting something. But the King emitted nothing!
Husk froze mid-drink. He turned his head, almost mechanically, to the seat next to him. Lucifer had traded his outfit for a t-shirt and jeans combo. The t-shirt had a duck dressed as Elvis Presley on it, saying 'Quack You Very Much' into a microphone. The cord looped around for the duck to sit on like a makeshift puddle. The little King kicked one foot back and forth. He leaned against the bartop. His head rested lazily on one hand while his other traced the rim of his rock glass. The liquor inside had a strange, swirling honey color. Lucifer stared blankly ahead.
Electric swing music drifted around the empty parlor. Everyone had been so happy when Alastor agreed to include the genre in his lineup. It was new, fresh, and modern for someone stuck in time like the Radio Demon. But the new genre was also familiar with a respectful twist that held up the roots and didn't try to bury its past as a shameful secret. Alastor was sometimes simple. Respect can get you a long way with him. Respecting his history, which is tightly coiled around radio and jazz, was always a golden ticket into his good graces.
The song's beat was rapid, and Husk's heart looked to be joining it for a dance. Outwardly, he slowly lowered his drink back to the bar top. His mouth tugged into a sharp frown. Eyebrows pulled tightly downward. "Didn't think you could look any grumpier," Lucifer paused. His teeth clicked together like he was physically biting a word back before it could get out. He took a breath, red pupils in a sea of yellow flicked to Husk before returning forward. "Husk," he finished after an awkward pause.
One of Lucifer's more frustrating habits for those who care- most people do because they're in the pride ring and having your name known was like half the package with ego- was forgetting or messing up their name. No matter how many times the little guy has met them, he'll scramble it. The staff gets around the problem by wearing name tags, but the residents aren't so fortunate. Lucifer's work around forgetting names has been to refer to a guest's most prominent trait as a nickname. It led to some awkward talks with Charlie about what he can call guests, much to the amusement of Angel and Alastor.
"Something I can do for you, ya'majesty?" Husk grunted, trying to keep the weariness out of his voice and off his face.
Lucifer turned his head to look at the cat demon, and Husk looked away enough to keep him in his periphery. Some instinct told him not to make eye contact after the theater room incident. Lucifer sighed. "I came to check up on you," he explained, "just have you and Alastor left. But I know the little deer will kill over before he admits to any feelings." He air-quoted the last word with a smirk.
Husk chuckled. "Tends to bottle it up until he can't." And that was a mental breakdown Husk doesn't want to remember. On the bright side, it was also how he met Rosie and learned at least one friend in Hell cared about his boss.
"And you?" Lucifer asked calmly. His eyes rolled over the demon, top to bottom. Even without looking into the King’s eyes, Husk felt like the guy could still see into him. See past the fur and bones to the very core of his being.
In a bid to keep his nerves steady, Husk picked up his bottle and drank. "I'm fine, ya'majesty," he said after a mighty swallow. “Thanks for checking in."
"I showed her the birth of the universe, Ivan," Lucifer said with no preamble.
Husk turned wide, disbelieving eyes on the King. The alarm in his head blared louder to keep his eyes away, but it was too late. Their gazes locked. He fell into the hunter's trap all because of a name he hadn't heard since the curtains raised on a stage in a small-time casino in Vegas. He was never a big act. House hardly full, but it kept a roof over his family's head and food in their bellies.
His wife was a beautiful, forgiving person. She loved sitting at the closest table to the stage with their kids. She was always so forgiving of his mistakes. She stuck with him until she couldn't. They couldn't afford her treatments and the kids' colleges. She wanted them to have a good life. Better than hers. It was her call. He didn't fight it. Couldn't fight it. He was so helpless. So fucking helpless because that's what death does. When it comes. There is nothing you can do to stop it. If it wants your loved one, it will take it. If it wants you, it will take you. There is no running. No hiding. No bargaining.
He was so happy when he didn't find her in Hell. Then, so terrified that she died in the exterminations, and he hadn't been there to protect her.
"She didn't," a voice assured.
“Good,” he thought, easing several decade's worth of weight in his chest.
Husk blinked. The room of tables with laughing and smiling faces dropped away one by one. His wife and his children, before they got too big to forget the love of magic, were the last to go. His wife's eyes sparkled, her smile full of that warmth he fell for at first sight. His little twin boys pointed with big excited expressions, and his too-cool-for-this-scene daughter giggled as Husk 'fumbled' his cards everywhere before the big reveal.
Husk blinked again. Lucifer sat next to him with a sad, understanding smile. The Devil from the Bible just existed beside him in an Elvis Presley duck shirt and pair of jeans, sipping on what looked like the contents of a lava lamp. The demon—that’s what he was now, he reminded himself—swallowed a lump down. " Don't suppose you know about my kids?"
Lucifer shrugged. "Not here is all I know. Could just mean they haven't died yet. Humans are figuring out ways to both live longer and kill themselves quicker." His smile turned humorous. His big eyes lit up with mirth that the cat demon didn’t mirror.
Husk nodded. He blinked back the burn building behind his eyes. He stared down at his cheap booze. The taste of it turned sour on his tongue. "Would have preferred the stars," he grumbled, turning the bottle around in his paws.
Lucifer hummed. "Doesn't work like that for sinners." He finished the lava lamp and waved a hand over the glass. A shimmering, ruby liquid that sparked filled the glass. At Husk's startled look and the soft popping noises coming from the drink, Lucifer clarified, "Something from Wrath ring. Discontinued, now that I think about it. Tended to make imps explode when drunk in large quantities." Husk shifted away a bit. Lucifer chuckled lightly. "Doesn't work on me. Most vices don't, which is a shame when I want to get trashed."
Husk rolled the bottle around his paws again. The music drifted between them. The song was soft and sober now. Husk wrestled down his human memories. Beating them back into the dusty corner he had stored them in once he started making a life for himself in Hell. They only reminded him why he deserved to be in this cesspit. If the King had wanted to make him feel better, he was worse at it than even Alastor or Niffty.
There was a thought. The two psychos were better at comforting people. What the fuck was Husk's afterlife coming to if he wished Niffty was here to make him feel better. He should finish cleaning up instead. A distraction would help clear his head, and maybe Lucifer would leave.
"You think I'm dangerous," Lucifer stated. There was no anger in his voice or in his body. There was only calm acceptance, which was more frightening.
Husk tensed. He felt like he was walking into a trap, with no right answer to save his skin. "You're the King of Hell," he said matter-of-factly, facing Lucifer fully, "it would be dumb not to, ya'majesty."
"Do you want me to leave?" Lucifer asked quietly. His large serpentine eyes stared up at Husk with naked vulnerability. It was jarring.
There was the million-dollar question. What Husk had really been stewing over this entire time. Charlie had only asked them once during the rebuild- When Lucifer had been doing whatever it was he did, while the crew rested for the night- She had asked if they would be okay with Lucifer living with them because she wanted to rebuild her relationship with her father. They all said yes. Alastor wasn't there to ask questions. He would have asked the right questions. Seen the danger before all of them had.
Dangerous. That was the label Husk had missed. Lucifer had done such a good job of looking like a miserable, awkward, and sad sack of shit. Husk had missed all the signs until it was too late. His brain had fallen for the ruse, ignored the warnings, and settled for easy descriptors because he thought he had seen it all before. Both in life and in his afterlife.
Lucifer was OTHER.
He could do what they couldn't. See and know what they couldn't.
And they had invited the Devil into their home.
Husk thought about Charlie. Sometimes, she reminded him of his daughter, who was focused and determined to conquer whatever lay ahead of her to achieve her dreams.
And so full of love for her family. Even when his sons stopped visiting him after he gambled away the last of his money, his daughter remained. Moved in with him, so he was never alone.
How often did he believe she'd never come to the bar he had drunk himself into a stupor at, and she always did?
How often did he think he'd worn out his daughter's love, and she was still there, making sure he ate?
When his drinking eventually killed him, she was there. Holding his hands. Promising he'll see his wife again.
Husk sighed and rubbed at his eyes. He hadn't thought of his daughter in so long. He could recall her smile for the first time in years. Big and bright as she held up her college diploma. Hear her laughter ringing in his ears as he did another card trick just for her. Feel the warmth of her hug as they said their last goodbyes with a promise he would never be able to keep because she would never join him here.
Did he want the Devil to leave? Yes.
Did he want Lucifer to leave? Take away the chance Charlie had to be with her dad.
"No," Husk whispered. At some point, over the time he lived with the man, he split the guy in two. The Devil, a dangerous, powerful creature feared by Heaven, who could beat Overlords into minced meat without breaking a sweat. And Lucifer, a goofy, awkward, duck-obsessed guy who desperately wanted to reconnect with his daughter.
Lucifer smiled softly. His gaze was understanding. Like he knew what Husk was struggling with. "If that changes, let me know. I want to live with you all," he said so painfully earnest, "but I know how difficult it can be. Your instincts tell you I'm dangerous. The fox is in the hen house, so to speak. But I'd rather be the guard dog, Iv..." he paused, eyes dropping to Husk’s name tag then back to Husk's face. "As a former Overlord and a powerful sinner in your own right, Husk. Your senses pick me up stronger. I will ping as a serious threat. But I'm trying to mitigate that as best I can through suppressing my power. But there are just some things I can't hold back." He smiled apologetically.
"Okay," Husk nodded, "guess I'll be looking forward to those pamphlets then."
Lucifer chuckled weakly. "I hope they're helpful. Honestly, I couldn't employ Sinners even after we switched to videos, but Lilith wanted them, so we had them watch the tapes in case they had run-ins with me."
Husk took a thoughtful drink of his beer. "That why you were so insistent with us hiring hellborns?"
Lucifer shook his head. The tension in his shoulders relaxed. "It wouldn't do to have a rotating staff if the therapist got redeemed once we crack the code. Hellborn cannot ascend. They will be constant and consistent, which we'll need so we won't have to train someone new every time."
Husk huffed, "so that's the logic you used to win over Alastor."
Lucifer grinned mischievously. He downed the last of his sparking drink and hopped off his stool. "Are you feeling better?"
Husk raised an eyebrow. Thought a moment and realized the swirling vortex of helpless fear and anxiety had mostly disappeared. He felt more warm. Not happy, but stable. He nodded.
"I'm glad. I cleaned for you while we talked. Good night, Husk," Lucifer disappeared into sparkling red glitter.
Husk did one sweep of the parlor and bar. Everything was polished to a shine and in its proper place. The cat demon chuckled. Fuck. What had they gotten themselves into?
Notes:
Did I hit the heartstrings?
Did you guess a few of our Duck Daddy's powers?
I took real liberties with Husk's Human backstory since we don't know any of it. The fun part of Fan Fiction is writing in the empty spots.
I hope you all liked it as much as I loved writing it!Side note: This is my fave visual from this chapter: Husk blinked again. Lucifer sat next to him with a sad, understanding smile. The Devil from the Bible just existed beside him in an Elvis Presley duck shirt and pair of jeans, sipping on what looked like the contents of a lava lamp.
I felt like it really captured Husk's unreal moment. The poor guy is going through it, and this all-powerful being is just in a funny little outfit chilling.
Sneak Peek:
Lucifer’s head popped up. He froze with his arms halfway buried in the trunk. Everyone stared at him. He buffered a second more, then snapped straight. "Right!" He squeaked. Coughed into his fist. Adjusted his pale, pinstripe pink button-down. He rolled one sleeve up as he talked, “The staff… When we had staff. I mean, when Lilith had sinners as her staff." He chuckled nervously and finished rolling his other sleeve to his elbow. “They used to train them using pamphlets and videos.” He snapped the fingers of his right hand. A series of thin pamphlets fluttered through the air like swirling leaves in a spring breeze and hovered before everyone until they took their respective stacks."So you work for the devil. Beware the Memory Prison?" Alastor read out loud. He raised an eyebrow at Lucifer, who chuckled weakly and shrugged.
Chapter 3: Safety First
Summary:
Lucifer’s head popped up. He froze with his arms halfway buried in the trunk. Everyone stared at him. He buffered a second more, then snapped straight. "Right!" He squeaked. Coughed into his fist. Adjusted his pale, pinstripe pink button-down. He rolled one sleeve up as he talked, “The staff… When we had staff. I mean, when Lilith had sinners as her staff." He chuckled nervously and finished rolling his other sleeve to his elbow. “They used to train them using pamphlets and videos.” He snapped the fingers of his right hand. A series of thin pamphlets fluttered through the air like swirling leaves in a spring breeze and hovered before everyone until they took their respective stacks.
Notes:
This chapter fought me every step of the way!
But these safety video ideas were what originally spawned the idea for this fanfic.
At some point, I had to say stop and accept that this would be as good as I could get this chapter.There is a lot of lore dumping this time around.
A lot of blink and you'll miss it moments.I'm not sure I got across everything I wanted this time.
But I can't be a perfectionist. Otherwise, I'll get caught in a writer's trap, and this story will stall.
And I can't let that happen, ya'll!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
It took Lucifer two days to find the informational martial the palace staff used to train newcomers. Charlie and her friends decided to review the information first, which is how they all found themselves in the King’s room for breakfast.
As the apple-shaped exterior of Lucifer’s quarters would suggest, the interior was distinctly round and split into two floors. The first floor was clearly designed to receive guests. A majority of the space was dedicated to seating. Arranged around a single large coffee table were several comfortable chairs and two couches. A small, unmade bed was tucked under the spiraling staircase leading to the second floor. Besides its carnival theme decor, the room's most prominent feature was the built-in shelves. Nearly every curved wall had floor-to-ceiling custom-made shelves filled with all sorts of knick-knacks the King had a hand in designing. Turned out rubber ducks weren’t the only thing Lucifer built, although there was a concerning amount of the yellow rubber squeakers crammed into the nook and cranny. To balance out his inventions and arts, the fallen angel also had a sizable library with books from every era in human history. All of them charmed against the wear and tear of time.
Two trolleys filled with breakfast items and drinks sat nearby while the core Hazbin crew ate and drank coffee to chase away their morning glaze. Alastor and Charlie were really the only two who could function before 7 a.m. It was almost 9 a.m., and she was eager to get the show on the road. Lucifer had set up a projector and VCR for the occasion and pulled dark red curtains over the large windows to prevent outside light from hindering the viewing experience. He fussed around an old dusty truck, mumbling too quietly for Charlie to hear.
"So," Charlie clapped her hands once she was sure Angel had his third cup of coffee, and Husk had his second mimosa. "We are gathered today to review the safety videos about dad."
"Dis is really happenin'," Angel grumbled, "what's my life comin' to?" Cherri elbowed him.
Charlie soldiered on. "To see what information we need to pass along to the staff and residents! Dad?" She gestured to him.
Lucifer’s head popped up. He froze with his arms halfway buried in the trunk. Everyone stared at him. He buffered a second more, then snapped straight. "Right!" He squeaked. Coughed into his fist. Adjusted his pale, pinstripe pink button-down. He rolled one sleeve up as he talked, “The staff… When we had staff. I mean, when Lilith had sinners as her staff." He chuckled nervously and finished rolling his other sleeve to his elbow so the black skin of both his arms was visible. “They used to train them using pamphlets and videos.” He snapped the fingers of his right hand. A series of thin pamphlets fluttered through the air like swirling leaves caught in a spring breeze and hovered before everyone until they took their respective stacks. "We saw a decline in workplace incidents when we started training with videos," he explained while idly tracing one of the gold scars on his left forearm, "something about viewer retention."
"So you work for the devil. Beware the Memory Prison?" Alastor read out loud. He raised an eyebrow at Lucifer, who chuckled weakly and shrugged.
"He knows it. Sins and all?" Angel read another title incredulously. Lucifer looked away with a grimace.
"What's that taste? Your emotions and him." Cherri turned one strawberry-red pamphlet out to the group for show with a wide, amused grin.
Lucifer groaned and hid his face. "I didn't write them. I only provided the information."
Charlie shuffled through the six thin, color-coded pamphlets—not as many as she thought there would be. Each had the same first heading, 'So You Work For The Devil,' followed by a second header. The one that caught her eye, she read out loud, "Soul Surge, run for the hills."
She looked up in time to see her dad turn a brilliant gold color. His cheeks practically shone with embarrassment. "I haven't done that in ages," he protested.
"Calm down, Your Majesty," Alastor chuckled with an accompanying laugh track, "We don't even know what IT is yet." The demon was already pulling it out to read since it got the biggest reaction.
Lucifer deflated. He traced another thin gold vein up the inside of his right arm. "It's the worst, and I try not to let it happen. Ever. Of all of them."
"Maybe we should start with that one then," Charlie offered. Subscribing to the school of thought of getting the bad news over with first.
"Could we not?" Lucifer kept his eyes averted, "I'd rather start with a different video. Ease you all into things first."
"Let's start with the empathic touch," Alastor suggested before Charlie could ask why her dad suddenly looked frightened.
Lucifer didn't ask for anyone else's opinion. He snapped his fingers again. A tape zipped out of the trunk into the VCR and flashed onto a screen that dropped into existence. The lights dimmed as the video started. The film was grainy. Clearly shot sometime in the early 40s or 50s. Words popped on the screen, 'Devil Safety- He Feels It!'
"That's much better than the pamphlet," Alastor drawled.
A small red imp dressed in an old royal servant outfit hopped onto the screen. She smiled friendly and chirped brightly, “ Hello, new hire, and congratulations! Before you begin your employment with the royal family of Hell, there are a few things we need to cover to ensure your success!”
The video suddenly cuts to the host sneaking down a hallway to an open door. She peeked carefully around the frame, holding one hand up. Then, excitedly, she gestured for the cameraman to come closer while holding a finger to her lip. The cameraman leaned around the host until they could see into the office where Lilith and Lucifer stood over a circular table with a sprawling detailed map of the Pride Ring.
A voiceover picked up, “Now you might spend your time working with our brilliant Queen Lilith.” An arrow and blocky text pointed at her mom, who looked just as Charlie had last seen her. Long blond hair. The Queen's eyes burned with an inner passion as she pointed at various points on the map. “But the one you need to worry about is our great King, Lucifer Morningstar!” Another arrow with blocky text pointed at her dad just as he turned to look at the cameraman and the host imp. He looked much as he did in the present. His mouth opened, but whatever he was going to say was lost as the two imps ran away.
“Awe, you scared 'em!” Cherri cackled and threw some popcorn at Lucifer.
Lucifer sighed. “As soon as I agreed to be filmed, they started popping up everywhere! Even after I set up a filming schedule. They claimed it would help with getting organic moments.” He airquoted with a fond huff.
The video kept going. "Our wonderful King has so many incredible abilities which sustain our quality of life here in Hell," the imp praised dreamily over a panning backdrop of a Wrath's farm. "But not all of them are meant to help us. Some may punish naughty sinners who step out of line."
Angel whistled. Vaggie threw a bagel at him. "You can punish me any time, Big Daddy," Angel winked as he slid one long finger suggestively into the bagel's hole.
Lucifer leaned over and whispered with a playful grin, "You couldn't handle me, little sinner."
Charlie didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry. On the one hand, this was her dad. On the other hand, she was glad her friends were getting along with him after what happened in the theater room. She settled on scolding them both. "You two!" Lucifer and Angel looked entirely unapologetic.
“How does it work?” an off-screen interviewer pulled Charlie’s attention back to the video.
Her dad sat in his old office surrounded by piles of overflowing paperwork. On the edges of his desk were rubber ducks and what looked like half-finished science projects. He adjusted the brim of his hat so it wouldn’t cover his face and considered the camera. Even through the lens and time, his gaze felt heavy and suffocating. Then he looked away, and Charlie felt like she could breathe. “What was this one about again?” Lucifer shuffled some papers on his desk.
The interviewer audibly swallowed. “Your empathic touch, sir.” His voice wobbled with his nerves.
“Ah,” Lucifer removed his hat and set it aside. He held up a gloved hand with two fingers. “It’s actually two things. One is more passive than the other.” His forked tongue flicked out. “Lots of scientific mumbo jumbo and snake traits I have.” He put a finger down. “The other is easier to show.” He pulled off his glove and held out his black hand. The camera zoomed in to show the gold scaring that spiderwebbed over knuckles and disappeared under the cuff of his shirt.
Then, the cameraman panned out to show the imp with bat-like wings sitting on the other side of the desk. “I thought it could only be used on Sinners.” He looked from the Devil's offered hand to the camera and back. His face was unsure, but he valiantly tried to mask his nerves behind a calm facade for the sake of the interview.
“This ability can be used on anyone. It allows me to feel your emotions and change them if I wish to. But there are side effects, and it’s the side effects I want to show,” the King explained. He waited patiently for the imp to take his hand.
The imp raised his hand but paused. His hand hovered near the edge of the desk. “What are the side effects, sire?”
“Wise guy,” Angel whispered loudly. “I sure as hell wouldn’t take ya hand either.” Vaggie shushed Angel, who blew a raspberry back.
On-screen, her dad explained, “The change of emotion isn’t natural, so your body tries to correct it. Sometimes it overcompensates. I never know what will happen once I let go. Sometimes, it might be the opposite of the emotion I made you feel. Sometimes, it’ll take the emotion and dive deeper.” Lucifer still hadn't retracted his hand.
The imp looked at the camera. His calm mask dropped. Fear was clear as day in his eyes. “I don’t think I want to do this, sir.”
Lucifer blinked. Confused. “Aren’t we supposed to show what my abilities are?”
“Yes. But.”
“I won't hurt you,” Lucifer’s voice turned soft and coxing. His gaze became warm and inviting. The sudden change startled the imp. "I can make you feel good. Wouldn't you like that?"
“Feel good?” The imp asked breathlessly.
Lucifer’s eyes glowed as he smiled coyly. “Do you think I only bring pain?” he teased and tilted his head to the right. His eyes fluttered as he leaned a little closer. “Can I not offer an award to a good servant?” His voice was syrupy and sweet.
The imp sat immobile. Staring witless into the sparkling red ruby irises of the Devil. Then Lucifer began to retract his hand slowly, dragging the back of his hand across the papers on his desk. His smile fell. His expression became sad, almost wounded. He turned his head away. “I see,” he sighed. “Let us end it here then.”
The imp sprung forward and snatched the hand. “No. No. I’m sorry!”
At first, nothing seemed to happen. The imp held Lucifer’s hand in between both of his. Then, the imp curled forward over the desk with a gasp and started laughing. “What?” he blinked up at the Devil. Lucifer turned back to face the camera and the imp. His face was hard to read. “This.” the imp struggled to form words around his giggling. “I feel so light. So good.”
Lucifer nodded and let the imp hold his hand for a moment longer before slipping it free. The imp fell backward into his chair, breathless. In the next moment, the imp started crying. Big heaving sobs. “Oh. No. This. No.”
“It’ll go away soon,” the King consoled as he slipped his glove back on. “We didn’t hold hands for long. So the effects shouldn’t last long.” The tenderness from earlier was gone. Replaced with a calm, clinical attitude.
“My Devil Dearest,” Alastor laughed. His disembodied audience oh'ed and awe'ed. “Tempting poor little imps into holding your hand.”
Lucifer groaned. “I’m not proud of it. Okay. But that was the only way to get that stupid shoot over with. When I explained it, no one quite understood what I was saying, so I decided to show them. It worked better than I thought it would.”
The video cut back to the host imp staring nervously off to the side. Someone coughed off-camera. The host jumped. "You saw it for yourself, folks!" she chirped. Each point was listed next to her in big white blocky words. "He can taste your emotions. He can change your emotions through touch. The duration and strength of the side effects depend on how long you have been in direct contact with the King. Always notify medical for any adverse reaction! As long as you remember to behave," the camera pans out to a group of imps and sinners who all yell at once, "Welcome to the team!"
The credits rolled as the lights in the room brightened a smidgen.
"That wasn't so bad," Charlie said, trying to find the bright side. A little unnerving, sure, but not the worst anyone in this room has seen. They lived with Alastor, after all. A cannibal. They recently had to build a second lock fridge after one of the new cooks accidentally used his meats for ravioli. It was damn good, but they weren't doing it again!
"Needs more blood," Niffty pipped up, her attention split between her latest sewing project and the screen. Charlie caught a glimpse of red and X's for eyes and decided her curiosity was best directed to their current endover.
"We'll get there," Lucifer grumbled. His smile was half-hearted. His shoulders were starting to sag. His fingers were twisting and picking at his pants.
"You serious, old man?" Cherri whipped her head around.
Her dad nodded. "Short break, or just go on to the next?"
"What's the next one?" Vaggie asked carefully.
Lucifer thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers. The tapes changed out, and the next rolled. The title card read, 'Devil Safety—What is the Memory Prison?'
The same cheery imp from the last video popped up. This time, she stood in a large ballroom Charlie recognized from her 50th birthday party. As the imp started the introductions for the safety video, the imps and sinners were moving medical equipment in the background. "For this video, we will discuss what a memory prison is, what to do if you get caught in one, and the fallout." Each step was listed out in big chunky block text next to the host.
Her dad walked into the frame, missing his coat and hat. All the imps looked at the King with adoration, while the sinners generally ignored him. "And you're sure he understands what he's getting into?" he asked someone off-camera. He smoothed his hands down his front nervously. The chains on his vest tinkled against his fingers as he absently fidgeted.
"Yes, Luci," her mom's exasperated voice replied. "You were there." Charlie smiled and rolled her eyes. Her mom had little patience, always preferring tasks to be handled quickly. Charlie looked at her dad to see what he thought and found him staring blankly ahead.
"For the first meeting. Did anyone double-check?" Onscreen Lucifer frowned. "Some people change their mind after they've slept."
"I asked, sire," the host said, "he's good."
Lucifer nodded distractedly and worried his bottom lip.
"What's going to happen today, Your Majesty?" The host asked as she waved for the cameraman to get closer.
Lucifer turned to her and smiled softly. "We're doing a demonstration for the sinners the Queen employs, and you all are here to film it for the safety video."
"We're all set!" Someone yelled.
The host and Lucifer turned to the setup in the middle of the ballroom, where a large burly sinner was hooked to the machines. It was always interesting to see what forms sinners took once they arrived in Hell. This guy looked like a cross between a bear and a park bench. His large bear head sat on the iron bars of curled bench legs. His massive forearms had thick wooden planks with black fur poking between the gaps. His paws were the size of Lucifer’s face.
The King raised an eyebrow over his shoulder at someone off-camera before moving toward the volunteer. The demon sat on the edge of a gurney lowered enough to be at eye level with the King. The bear looked Lucifer up and down with disinterest. "Lucifer," he greeted in a bored tone. “Is all this really necessary for a trip down memory lane?"
The host imp gasped, "It's your majesty! You filthy--"
"It's fine," Lucifer assured the imp. "I'm afraid so," her dad paused in that way Charlie had come to learn he didn't know the guy's name. "Bear Cub," Lucifer settled on.
The sinner's face twisted into a snarl. His teeth were yellow and large. "It's Bearron," he snapped. His eyes narrowed and glowed with his anger.
The cameraman had moved enough to show her dad's face, which was unamused. Almost bored. "And I get called uncreative," Lucifer said blandly. "Here's why these are important," he continued loudly enough for the room of people to hear, cutting off whatever snide remark Bearron might have said.
"We don't know what will happen when Bear Tree gets locked in a Memory Prison," Lucifer waved at the collection of equipment, "he might just sit there. But I have seen people die. They want so badly to escape, they're body shutdowns. And here's the thing," Lucifer's voice was light, almost playful. "You don't come back, little sinner, because I'M punishing you. Do you still want to proceed?" The question was more of a challenge. Lucifer's smile was wicked.
Bearron glared at Lucifer with pure malice. "I'm not afraid of you, little angel," he spat.
The King didn't show any outward reaction to the demon's words. He carried on with the demonstration. "First," Lucifer held up a finger, speaking more to Bearron but loud enough for anyone to hear. "A memory prison is triggered by looking into my eyes." The red irises of Lucifer's eyes suddenly blew wide until they took over everything. The crimson color glowed brightly and reflected back onto the sinner's face.
Bearron held Lucifer's gaze stubbornly. The longer the two stared at each other, the fierce expression on the bear's face slowly melted away. It slid off until he was staring wide-eyed in horror. The demon gasped. The heart rate monitor spiked. "The memory you're locked in could be tied to your worst sin, your death, or the worst moment in your life," as Lucifer spoke, his voice sounded more and more distant, "and you will stay there until I decide to let you out."
Bearron gasped again. His body jerked. Lucifer leaned forward. His expression could only be called Devilish Delight. It was only because the camera was so close they could hear him whisper to the sinner, "I'll leave you in this one for a while. It might humble you."
Lucifer stepped away and faced the crowd. "Now let's talk about what you should do if this happens accidentally. And it can be triggered by accident."
Behind him, Bearron jerked. The monitor beeped. Slowly speeding up, but Lucifer paid no mind to it. Even as it got worse and the noise got louder. Even when the medics rushed in as the sinner started to seize. Even when Lilith started to yell at him to 'stop it. He made his point. Let the man go.'
Onscreen Lucifer's expression was glassy, like he was miles away instead of the ballroom, as he calmly explained step by step what was going on:
There are a few ways to trigger a memory prison by accident:
If he catches you in a major lie
If you somehow challenge the Devil
You will only receive one warning before he activates the punishment.
If you are the target, it is best to vacate the area as quickly as possible. He usually won't seek you out if you leave.
If you see him activate Memory Prison, you can try to talk him down to release the sinner.
Always alert medical staff so the affected can receive immediate medical attention.
When the King reached the end of his explanation, he turned back to the chaos behind him and reached past the panicking doctors trying to keep Bearron breathing. "You're released, little club," he tapped the wood on the man's forearm. Bearron jerked up and toppled off the gurney.
The sinner scrambled away from everyone with a heart-wrenching scream. His eyes were wide and filled with gut-dropping fear. "Stay away," the sinner screamed, "don't touch me. Don't fucking touch me!" The cameraman followed behind the sinner until he curled up in a corner. The camera turned to show the Devil reaching down toward the terrified demon. The scene cut to black just as the demon screamed high and shrill.
The black faded to the host imp in a different location. She chuckled nervously, "That is the fallout," she continued on gamely. "A part of the memory still clings to the sinner and why medical needs to be summoned. Some sinners might need to be sedated to calm them. But, if you can survive that!" the camera pans out to a group of imps and sinners who yell simultaneously, "Welcome to the team!"
The credits rolled. Everyone slowly turned to stare at Lucifer, who was studying the patterns on the carpet. Husk, in particular, glared at the King. Charlie had never seen the cat demon quite that mad before.
"Dad?" Charlie doesn't really know what question she's trying to ask. All of them are trying to come out at once.
Lucifer sighed as he ran a trembling hand through his hair.
"And that's not the worst one, you said," Alastor held up the Soul Surge pamphlet.
Lucifer stared at it before sliding his eyes to Alastor. Charlie held her breath as they locked gazes. Lucifer looked away first. Eyes dropping down to the carpet again. "We should take a break first."
"I'm good to go!" Alastor sing-sang.
"Let's get it over with," Husk grumbled.
With everyone's general agreement, Lucifer dimmed the lights and snapped his fingers to switch the tapes. He didn't stay, though, taking the stairs to his workshop and office on the second floor.
----
The credits were rolling. No one spoke. Even Alastor's ambient noises were silent.
What did they just hear? What did they just see?
Charlie couldn't process it.
"What da fuck?" Angel said breathlessly.
"This stays between us," Charlie said, trying and failing to pull herself back together. "It doesn't leave this room."
"Charlie!" Angel shoved to his feet. " Are ya insane? Did we watch da same thing?"
"He said that hasn't happened in years," Charlie defended. Desperation clawed at her insides.
"And what happens if it does?" The spider demon asked hysterically, "We can't protect against that! Alastor can't stop that!"
"We'll find a way!" She yelled. Her voice was high with panic. There had to be. The deal with her dad couldn't end like this. Two days in. Over some videos and glossy pieces of paper.
All six of Angel's hands were in fists, shaking. All eight of his eyes were wide open with fear and anger. For her dad. About something they couldn't fight. "Your mother took you away to protect you from that, Charlie!" Angel yelled.
Charlie reeled back as Angel's words had actually hit her. Angel's face immediately crumbled as soon as he finished shouting. Husk and Vaggie were out of their seats, pulling them apart. When had they gotten so close?
Everything was going wrong. It was all going wrong so fast. She just wanted her dad back in her life. Why couldn't she have that?
"Six months," Alastor popped up between them, effectively separating everyone. He turned his glowing red eyes on Angel and pushed the spider demon further away with the tip of his microphone. “Charlie has a deal with her father for a trial period of six months to live here at the hotel. If, within that time, he becomes a serious detriment to the well-being of the hotel, we will ask him to leave per the agreement." Alastor. Always the deal-maker. Always seeing the fine print and the loop holes. He turned back to Charlie, his head tilting in thought. "I personally don't believe everything we learned today is all we have to worry about either. And while I love a good mystery, we should not lose sight of our main goal with the hotel, Charlie Dear."
Charlie looked away. She took a few calming breaths. "You're right, Alastor. We still haven't figured out redemption, and that's more important."
"What about the videos?" Husk asked. Never one to be sidetracked from a problem. “How can we be sure no one's gonna run after they watch ‘em?”
Charlie thought for a moment. “Most of Dad’s abilities affect sinners, so we’ll show the videos only to the staff. They’ll be able to help run defense when needed. But we’re not showing soul surge to anyone else.” Angel threw his hands in the air. Cherri and Vaggie didn’t seem to agree with her decision either. “I don’t want to worry them about something only Dad can prevent.”
"Personally," Lucifer's voice startled everyone. “I think you should leave the pamphlets out so the sinners can at least have the information as a plan B. I can modify them some if that’ll help."
"Not worried your secrets will get out," Alastor asked playfully.
Lucifer huffed. "Leaks have happened before. It's up to people to believe them or not."
Charlie dropped back into her seat. Things were getting messy, and while she knew that redemption should be her priority, she also wanted to ensure she had time to reconnect with her father. Maybe, in the process, she could show everyone that her dad wasn’t someone to fear. They saw only one side of the coin in the videos. Charlie knew he could be kind, so she just had to show it to others!
"One last thing," her dad called from where he stood on the steps, "if you haven't already, you probably want to start thinking about what you want to do with the Overlords sooner rather than later. They might become a hindrance to your redemption efforts."
Alastor's canned laugh track did not lift her plummeting spirits.
Notes:
This time around, we're blatantly shown a few of our Duckie Dad's powers:
Empathic Touch/Taste
Memory Prison
TemptationAnd for those wondering: No, he did not use Memory Prison on Husk in the last chapter. Don't worry! Husk also thinks he used it on him, which is why he's mad after the safety video. It's a different ability but appears the same. It'll appear again in a later chapter.
I wanna thank all the wonderful people who have left comments, reviews, and Kudos! You've helped me pushed through the struggles I had with getting the edits and rewites and edits and more rewites I did on this chapter alone.
Overall, while I'm not 100% happy with this one.
I'm glad I got it done and out.
See ya all next time!Sneak Peek:
The elevator dinged, and the door opened to a small body blocking the way. Big yellow eyes blinked up at him as he stumbled forward. Thin, strong arms caught him before he completed his journey to the floor. "Hey, Papa Diablo," Angel chuckled mirthlessly. His long body slumped into the warm hold. His long arms tossed over the smaller guy's shoulder, and what do you know, the Devil's got a sleeper build. Muscles flex under Angel as he was dragged backward so they don't set the elevator's alarm off for the door being opened too long.
Chapter 4: Written In The Stars
Summary:
The elevator dinged, and the door opened to a small body blocking the way. Big yellow eyes blinked up at Angel as he stumbled forward. Thin but strong arms caught the sinner before he completed his journey to the floor. "Hey, Papa Diablo," Angel chuckled mirthlessly. His long body slumped into the warm hold. His top pair of long arms tossed over the smaller guy's shoulder, and what do you know, the Devil's got a sleeper build. Muscles flexed under Angel as he was dragged backward so they don't set the elevator's alarm off for the door being opened too long.
Notes:
Angel's POV was so fun to write. And unlike the last chapter, he wanted to be heard!
I didn't go too hard with his accent.
Mostly, I chose readability and kept his accent solely to actual speaking lines.Can't take credit for Papa Diablo. It comes from one of my favorite AppleRadio Series written by keelywolfe
If you haven't checked out this amazing author, please do! I reread their works a lot, especially this series!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Val was the worst. The day started as absolute shit with those safety videos, and it didn't get any better from there.
Angel dragged himself through the doors of the hotel. The lobby was empty except for the single imp manning the main desk for the night watch. Husk wasn't at the bar. He had a closing time now that more people were staying here, so Angel couldn't drown away the pain anymore. That's fine. He had shit in his room.
He limped to the elevator and hit the button for the second-to-last floor, which had the staff plus him and Cherri because Charlie wanted her two special friends close. He slumped against the cool metal walls and did not look at his warped, battered reflection.
Seriously, fuck Val and his new ‘kink market.’ It wasn't even new. Just a cycle. A fad like everything else over the 80-some years of Angel’s afterlife. Something goes out. A few generations later, someone likes it and brings it back. A never-ending circle of bullshit that the Vees loved chasing and Angel was stuck being dragged along with them.
The elevator dinged, and the door opened to a small body blocking the way. Big yellow eyes blinked up at Angel as he stumbled forward. Thin but strong arms caught the sinner before he completed his journey to the floor. "Hey, Papa Diablo," Angel chuckled mirthlessly. His long body slumped into the warm hold. His top pair of long arms tossed over the smaller guy's shoulder, and what do you know, the Devil's got a sleeper build. Muscles flexed under Angel as he was dragged backward so they don't set the elevator's alarm off for the door being opened too long.
"Spidy," Lucifer mumbled softly. Knowing what Angel knows about the guy now- all that information knocking about the little man's skull. The porn star wasn't AS offended that the King can't get his name right. "Just get back from work?" Lucifer’s fork tongue flicked out for a second. His pale face scrunched up before smoothing out into concern.
Angel bet he tasted like a used condom, sex with a side order of pain and exhaustion. "Yeah. Sorry about the taste," he giggled, a bit delirious. His body didn't want to move. It was sending all the signals it was done for the night. "Ya can just put me down. I can get to my room on my own."
Lucifer raised an eyebrow in confusion. He looked both ways as if they were blocking traffic. "Can I get someone for you?"
"Don't wanna wake anyone. I can take care of myself." He could. This was nothing new either. He's had worse. Before Husk and his bar, Angel used to crawl back to his room on the regular. The old hotel didn’t even have an elevator. Getting up the steps had been Hell on his knees, but he’d rather climb the stairs on all fours than spend another 16 hours filming with Val.
Lucifer adjusted his hold but made no move to put the demon down. "I know you can, but you don't have to."
Wow, he get that friend tip from Charlie. Okay, that thought was mean. The friendship circles were nice. Sharing troubles with others who understood what you were going through WAS nice. WHEN Angel got the chance to participate. Lately, Val didn’t like him spending a lot of time at the hotel. The moth jerk had started to increase Angel’s filming time in the studio. It was starting to be every other day for what felt like longer and longer sessions.
Angel was tried. So fucking tired. His body was struggling to keep up with the demands from Val and himself. Angel was starting to lose track of how often he was returning home and collapsing into a pile of broken bones and bruises, before dragging himself back together to attend whatever happy-happy funtime the hotel had planned. And here was Lucifer, catching him at his worst. The little guy was just standing in the middle of the hall, holding all of the spider demon's weight up like it was nothing. Because Angel was nothing. Just like Val always told him. Fucker was right about something.
Lucifer jarred Angel from his thoughts by pulling him into a fireman’s carry. Angel’s long body draped across the small King’s shoulders like a demented scarf. The demon’s longer limbs dangled inches from the floor. The little guy walked steadily down the hall to the door with Angel's neon sign. It swung open on its own because magic can do anything, apparently, and the King of Hell walked into the mess Angel called a room.
He should clean. Angel told himself that every day and walked out of his room every time the thought popped into his head. Oh, look, his dildo was on his damn dresser! At least he cleaned his toys. Crusty vibrators on top of a dirty room would have been the worst.
"Sorry about da mess," he mumbled as the door closed behind them with a soft click. Lucifer didn't comment as he carefully placed Angel on the bed and stepped away.
The little guy chuckled, "You should see my depression piles. Has way more rubber ducks. Do you want to take a shower or a bath?"
Angel blinked at him, uncomprehending. Lucifer patiently waited. "You don't have to do this," Angel said, "I-" the last word died in his throat at the flicker of that snake tongue. The safety video popped into his head. "Can you really taste what I’m feeling?" He asked cautiously.
Lucifer's eyes widened. His gloved hand shot up to cover his mouth. "A little," the words were muffled. He pulled the hand away and ran it through his messy blond hair. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just wanted to help."
"After what I said this morning?" Angel still couldn't get Charlie's hurt look out of his head. He might as well have smacked her.
Lucifer smiled warmly. His slitted red irises seem to glitter with inner joy. Angel knew pretty. He worked with all types of lookers and Lucifer… Damn! There was something otherworldly, and that was saying something since they lived in literal Hell. Val would sell his soul to get the Devil on tape. Still, the friendly, happy smile caught Angel off-guard. "I'm glad. Actually."
Angel's jaw dropped. He pretty much told Charlie to throw the guy out. And he's happy about it! Lucifer gestured at the spot next to Angel and only sat when the spider demon nodded. He kept a respectful distance while he looked up at the ceiling in thought.
Angel and Cherri decorated it with those tacky glow-in-the-dark stars while binge drinking. She wasn't in good shape that night, and he wasn't going to let her spend it alone. By the time all their bottles were empty, his entire ceiling was covered, and they were wasted.
"I used to make those," Lucifer said, "actual stars." He clarified like Angel would mistakenly believe he created the glowing plastic.
Lucifer slowly waved his hands while he talked. The stars on the ceiling rearranged themselves into constellations. "I'm glad Charlie has people around that question her decisions. Being surrounded by yes-men won't do her any good," he explained, "not being challenged breeds arrogance. And what you all are trying to do here, it needs," he paused, the stars settled into their new formations. Angel recognized a few of the constellations from when he was a kid. The big and little dipper, for sure. The bowman guy. A horse. "out of the box thinking," he finished.
"All I ask of you, Spidy," Lucifer turned to Angel. Their gazes locked, and Angel tensed. Readying for his punishment. For the memory to take over and leave him twitching and gasping on the floor like the sinner from the video. "If you don't agree with her about something, keep it civil. Tempers can get hot, but you are not each other’s enemy. Don't use her weaknesses against her. You know she'll never do that to you."
Nothing happened. They sat for a moment, staring at each other. Angel swallowed against the lump in his throat. He used both sets of arms to hug himself as shame burned hot in his gut. "I didn't mean ta hurt her," he choked out.
"Then why did you say it?" Lucifer asked. There wasn't any anger in his voice or face. He remained calm, and that was more frightening. Angel squeezed his eyes shut. He hugged himself tighter. There was nothing he could say to excuse how he hurt Charlie.
"It's okay to be afraid of me, Anthony."
Angel's eyes shot open as he gasped. It had been so long since he heard his human name. It squeezed painfully at his heart. The last memory of his mother and sister sprung to the front of his mind, so vivid it felt like he was there again. Sitting in the tiny little restaurant that was a front for his family's mob business. Laughing over drinks and teasing each other about boys. His mom had known. His sister had known. They loved him anyway, but it was hard. It was so hard. Because they all knew the rest of the family wouldn’t. And it hurt. It had hurt so fucking much. And he just wanted that pain and the fear to go away. He never meant for it to go so far. In the end, he went exactly where his Nonna said he would when the secret eventually got out.
Angel blinked. His smiling mom and sister fell away, leaving him alone in his messy godforsaken bedroom with the Devil. His fur felt wet with the tears he had held back all day. Anger and frustration raged inside his gut, mixing with his shame and self-loathing. He had done a lot of shit as a human. Of course, he wouldn’t have a good life in Hell. He thought it got somewhat better when he came to the hotel and made friends, but he was fucking it up again. That was his M.O., after all. Self-sabotaging. Chasing away people who got too close to see behind his mask. It was only a matter of time before the others stopped putting up with his bullshit and kicked him out.
Lucifer was staring at the ceiling wistfully. His soft voice pulled Angel out of his self-deprecating spiral. "There was a time in the early days when every sinner I met looked at me with either hate or fear. One blamed me for damning humanity to Hell, while the other feared the punishments I would sentence them to for the sins they committed." His head dropped as he looked at Angel sideways. "Fear of me is nothing new, and you will not be the last. What's important to me is your care for Charlie. Do you care for her?"
Angel didn't even need to think about it. Sometimes, Charlie reminded him of his sister. She loved so openly and shared her kindness so freely. "Yes,” he said desperately. In his mind’s eye the image of his sister and Charlie overlapped. His next words were for both of them. Words Angel wished he could have said to his little sister before it was too late. “She’s done so much for me. And I. Fuck! I keep hurtin’ her! I don’t mean ta. Ya gotta believe me. I don’t.”
Lucifer’s eyes roamed over Angel's beaten face, from the bruise on his cheek to the cut on his lip. His hard expression softened into something more understanding. “You’re trying, and that’s what matters most.” He stood then and clapped his hands. "Executive decision." Lucifer began walking to the bathroom, "a shower."
As soon as the fallen angel was in the other room, Angel’s pink pig popped out from under the bed and demanded pets. “Fat Nuggets,” Angel snuggled his little porker. He had nearly forgotten about his pig. Fat Nuggets squealed in delight and pushed its snout into his face.
The hiss of the shower sounded throughout the room. Steam curled through the doorway. Lucifer returned soon enough but didn't come any closer. Nuggets froze in Angel’s arms and stared wide-eyed at Lucifer. The King paid the pig no attention. "Do you need help getting to the bathroom?"
"If ya don't mind?" Angel asked sheepishly. Lucifer smiled another warm one. The pig fled Angel’s bed and disappeared somewhere into the mess of his room in a flash when Lucifer started to come closer. “Weird,” Angel huffed. “Nugs likes everyone.”
The Devil chuckled weakly. “Most prey animals don’t like me. Their sense of danger goes off.” Without further comment, the little guy helped Angel into the steaming bathroom. He even went a step further and gathered a towel and clothes for Angel to change into.
"I'm going to get you some water, food, and painkillers, too. It'll help you sleep better," Lucifer said. "Take your time."
Angel nodded and did just that. 40 minutes later, at almost 2 in the morning, Angel dragged himself out from under the spray of the water. Nowhere else in Hell was there this kind of water pressure. Angel always tried to take full advantage when he could. He wandered out of the bathroom and froze.
Charlie was in his bed. Sat against his headboard, knocked out with Fat Nuggets sleeping in her lap. On the nightstand was a plate with a sandwich, a glass of water, and two red pills. Angel just stared, brain-stuttering to understand what he was seeing. It rebooted and anger ballooned in his chest.
What da fuck, Lucifer!
He must have made some kind of noise because both Charlie and Fat Nuggets jerked awake. Charlie looked around and then gasped, "Angel! Are you okay?"
"Will be after I kill your dad," he grumbled.
Charlie laughed nervously. "Please don't be mad. He had to ask me for clearance on the pills. It's protocol. He just told me you had some pain from work. And I know how your boss is."
Of course, Charlie can't leave the people she loves alone. Angel's laugh cut off Charlie's ramble. "Okay, Dollface. I hear ya. Your dad can live another day." Charlie smiled and yeah, she definitely got it from her old man. All warm but with extra goo.
"Are you okay?" She asked again as he sat down and dug into his sandwich.
"Just a rough day at work."
"I'm sorry about yesterday," she whispered, and he nearly had his double death over a sandwich.
Her hands fluttered around Angel while his lungs remembered that air went in and out. This girl! Fuck. This girl! "Charlie!" Her eyes were big with worry. He shook his head, "I shouldn't've said what I did about ya mom. Learnin’ da shit about ya dad scared me."
"Yeah," Charlie ran a hand over his pig, who squealed with delight. "I didn't know. All this time. I just don't get it. I don't understand. He's my dad and...I don't...I'm still wrapping my head around it."
Shit. If Angel was struggling, he couldn't imagine what Charlie felt about everything they'd learned. And that's the kicker wasn't, they were just scratching the surface, a tiny nick.
“I, um,” Charlie grimaced, regaining Angel’s attention. “I asked my dad why he didn’t heal you.”
If he was being honest, the thought hadn’t even crossed Angel’s mind. He was more worried about being caught in a memory prison with no one to stop the King. Sure, being alone in a room with the Devil himself was a little scary, but Lucifer seemed interested in only having a heart-to-heart chat.
A frown looked horribly out of place on the usually upbeat girl’s face. “He said it was your punishment. To leave you as is. That you’d been through enough at work, no sense adding on.”
Well, yeah. That made sense and explained why the guy was outside the elevator in the first place since the King didn't even live on the same floor. Although, knowing it was an ambush for Angel did put their interaction in a new light. Today’s filming was especially brutal. Angel was pretty sure he had a few bruised ribs. He didn’t want to think about the rest of his body. The shower helped, but he was still sore in a LOT of places.
“But,” Charlie groaned, “you shouldn’t be punished at all! I asked for the tapes and…and...” she trailed off in a huff.
Angel finished his sandwich and sat back. He looked up at his ceiling of tacky green glowing stars newly arranged and noticed they were moved again. "Your dad told me he used to make stars," he said. Charlie looked up and laughed in disbelief.
These constellations represented their important people. A bomb, an ace of spade, a heart, a spear, a deer, a pig, all surrounding a spider. A reminder for him, Angel guessed, that he wasn't alone in Hell.
“If dis my punishment,” Angel waved a hand at his body. “I’m gettin’ off lite, Sweet cakes.” He smiled lopsidedly. “He loves ya. In a weird, twisted way.”
Charlie sighed and studied the constellations. “I wanna love him too. But you’re important to me, Angel. You were there for me when I needed you most. I don’t want to lose you.” Charlie’s big eyes shimmered wetly as she looked at him.
The spider demon held open his arms, an invention that she immediately took. He could bare this pain for her as she crushed him in a hug. He could bare any pain for her, Angel thought. “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered into Charlie’s hair as he held her tight.
Notes:
Can't take credit for Papa Diablo. It comes from one of my favorite AppleRadio Series written by keelywolfe
If you haven't checked out this amazing author, please do! I reread their works a lot, especially this series!Ah! I liked this chapter because our Duckie Dad shows off his powers but punishes through the absence of power with Angel.
Instead, he sits down and has this nice little chat with our favorite Spider Demon.
I love the constellation scene. It was fun to think of something for each character.
I am super excited about the next two chapters!Sneak Peek:
It had been drilled into Vaggie and her fellow exorcists to never trust the Devil who brought ruin to man. Adam's hatred, in particular, was understandable, considering his history with the fallen angel ran deep, and he instilled that same spite into his soldiers with gusto. Their want to right the Devil's mistake was part of the fire that burned behind every exorcist’s passion for doing away with sinners and cleansing all the realms of the darkness eating the apple had freed.So when Vaggie started living in Hell and dating the Devil's daughter, the carefully distilled venom for Hell's hermit king bled out of her. Replaced more with scorn for being an absentee father to Charlie and, like many of Hell's residents, indifference for a ruler who showed no care for a kingdom in daily chaos.
Chapter 5: An Existential Crisis In 2 Parts
Summary:
It had been drilled into Vaggie and her fellow exorcists to never trust the Devil who brought ruin to man. Adam's hatred, in particular, was understandable, considering his history with the fallen angel ran deep, and he instilled that same spite into his soldiers with gusto. Their want to right the Devil's mistake was part of the fire that burned behind every exorcist’s passion for doing away with sinners and cleansing all the realms of the darkness eating the apple had freed.
So when Vaggie started living in Hell and dating the Devil's daughter, the carefully distilled venom for Hell's hermit king bled out of her. Replaced more with scorn for being an absentee father to Charlie and, like many of Hell's residents, indifference for a ruler who showed no care for a kingdom in daily chaos.
Notes:
It's a special treat this week!
I'm posting two chapters!Just in case I wasn't clear about my tags, this FanFic is an AU.
I played around with Charlie's origin story for this fic.
I also put a slight spin on some of Lilith's lore.
Do know I did my research, and picked this direction for a reason.Without further ado!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
It had been drilled into Vaggie and her fellow exorcists to never trust the Devil who brought ruin to man. Adam's hatred, in particular, was understandable, considering his history with the fallen angel ran deep, and he instilled that same spite into his soldiers with gusto. Their want to right the Devil's mistake was part of the fire that burned behind every exorcist’s passion for doing away with sinners and cleansing all the realms of the darkness eating the apple had freed.
So when Vaggie started living in Hell and dating the Devil's daughter, the carefully distilled venom for Hell's hermit king bled out of her. Replaced more with scorn for being an absentee father to Charlie and, like many of Hell's residents, indifference for a ruler who showed no care for a kingdom in daily chaos.
That didn't change how nervous she felt meeting him the first time as Charlie's girlfriend. He was still her love's father, and for reasons Vaggie still doesn't understand, Charlie sought his approval in many aspects of her life. Charlie had told Vaggie early in their relationship that her parents had an open marriage. Her mother often sought out various partners before their eventual split, but none of the partners lasted long. From what Charlie could remember, Lucifer seemed to have no problem with it, so it wasn't a surprise he accepted their relationship so readily, if a little awkwardly.
It would be that awkwardness Vaggie blamed for dropping her guard around a being she had repeatedly been told was dangerous. He was good at misdirection. Like a magician whose trick was already known could still get you to fall for the same card trick. He IS powerful and dangerous, but they would forget because he bumbled around the hotel and nervously interacted with the guests through goofy conversations about rubber ducks and favorite breakfast items.
Vaggie hated it. She wanted so badly to just worry about the threats that faced her girlfriend's dream and whatever the hell Alastor had planned for Charlie's favor. But now, thanks to the pamphlets, she was worried about mitigating any of the Devil’s slip-ups. Thankfully, the staff had been brought into the know, and while she could do with less hero worship for their all-powerful King, having extra eyes on Lucifer helped put her somewhat at ease. Hopefully, there won't be another theater room incident.
"Good morning," Lucifer sang as he entered the staff dining area for breakfast. He was dressed in his usual kingly getup, missing only his coat and hat. He sat across from Charlie and began stacking his plate with a few fruits and pastries. "I've business outside, so I'll have to miss today's event."
Charlie looked up from her plate and frowned, "but you were looking forward to it!"
Today's event was a hotel-wide scavenger hunt where teams of two would work together to solve riddles and play games to get stamps from the staff. Those who could fill their card would win extra points they could put into any of the hotel's special amenities, like the bar or the video game room. With all the new residents, Charlie wanted to do something to get the sinners to interact with one another in hopes of creating new friendships and building support groups among the guests.
Lucifer sighed. His face pinched with displeasure. "I know. If I could handle it with a phone call or pass it off to someone else, I would. But I need to go in person."
He ate a few bites of his pancakes before perking up. "Oh, I've been thinking about the Overlord thing," he started, "and I think a good place to start is by seeing who's collared. I can teach you."
Charlie choked on her drink. Vaggie felt her eyebrows meet her hairline. She knew her girlfriend had many abilities, but she never used them. Angel, who had been half asleep and nearly in his cereal bowl, squeaked out, "she can do that?"
"I created her to." Lucifer's response went off like an EMP blast. He didn't seem to notice the stunned silence his revaluation left in its wake or the slack jaw shock on Charlie's face as he continued to speak. "But she can't break contracts. And I'm glad I didn't give her that ability," he waved a careless hand at the room, "the hotel already puts a big enough target on your back."
As the silence stretched on into minutes, Lucifer finally noticed the stares he was receiving. He tilted his head, all confused puppy, and looked between the few people in the room for what had them acting like a school of gaping guppies. The few imps sat mesmerized by their King. Angel opened and closed his mouth, seeming unable to decide which question he wanted to ask. Vaggie looked between the father and daughter, unsure if she should confront Lucifer about when to drop knowledge bombs or comfort her girlfriend, who was clearly having an existential crisis.
As usual, it was Alastor who recovered first. His radio noises rapidly switched through stations, voices popping in and out of the static before settling into white noise as he cleared his throat. "That's peculiar, sire," he blinked, tilting his head to one side in his own curiosity. “I was under the impression the Queen gave birth to our dear Charlie."
Understanding dawned across Lucifer's face. "You're mother," his voice became strained, "she didn't tell you." He looked down at his hands and clenched his fists against the table. He laughed. The sound bitter and hollow. "Of course she wouldn't. She loved her secrets."
Charlie came back to herself at the sound of her father’s disheartened laugh. She blinked rapidly. Her eyes shimmering in a way Vaggie knew meant tears weren't far away. "Dad," her voice was soft. "Mom." She stopped and swallowed. Charlie never spoke much of her childhood. The few times she did, it was always with a melancholy smile and pride in her voice for her mother. The woman had, for a long time, been the only parent in her life. Vaggie was starting to see why, and some part of her agreed with Lilith’s decision to take Charlie away from such an unstable power as the Devil.
Lucifer shook his head and plastered on a smile so fake it could rival Alastor's. "Sorry, you found out this way. Um..." he knocked his knuckles in a rhythm against the wood. "We should talk about it another time." He finished, looking around the table at who was present.
"No," Charlie snapped, "now. I want to hear it now." Vaggie slid her hand over one of her girlfriend’s clenched fists. Her love quickly grabbed it and squeezed back.
Lucifer's eyes searched his daughter's face, then nodded once. "One of your mom's punishments is that she can’t have children. And you know your mom. She wants it even more when you tell her she can't have something."
Charlie giggled wetly and nodded. A fond expression smoothing out her anger.
Lucifer continued. His serpent eyes searched the ceiling as he remembered. "She tried. A... Lot. Of things over the years. A few times, she thought she got close, and then," he sighed. "Each failure hurt her more. Until I offered a solution of sorts." He paused. Considering how to phrase the next bit for them. "I took some of her essence and combined it with my own. It was a difficult and complicated process," he explained, "and I wasn't sure it would work."
Lucifer paused again. Another visible debate on how to continue. His eyes flicked to his audience, to the table, to his fingers taping soundlessly on the table, and back to Charlie. "The whole process took three months of almost continuous work," he said eventually, "your mom kept telling me what she wanted you to look like and what kind of abilities she wanted you to have. I told her there would be some things I couldn't control since I was using some of the techniques the angels used to create the humans for Eden."
There was a collective gasp around the room. Powerful, Vaggie's mind chimed. A memory of one of Adam's rants bubbled to the surface. Lucifer had been an angel of creation, capable of making vast galaxies. What was it to him to make a person?
"As for the abilities, she wasn't happy with a few of my choices. But I gave you what you needed to stand at the top. It is your choice whether or not to use them and how to use them. If your mother hasn't taught you how, then I can." His smile was open but unsure. His eyes darted from his hands to Charlie and back.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Charlie asked after Lucifer finished. There was disappointment and hurt in her voice.
"Your mother said she would. I don't know why she didn't," Lucifer explained carefully.
"And one of these abilities allows our Charlotte to see someone under a soul contract, but she cannot break it?" Alastor brought the conversation back to what revealed Charlie's origin story.
Lucifer briefly eyed Alastor. "Any contract made with any deal-maker," he clarified, "not just soul deals. Favors. Alliances. They all have different looks and different strengths based on the deal-maker, the wording, or the magic used." He looked back at Charlie. "As I said, you can only see them, but even that might be of benefit."
Charlie shook her head. " That's an invasion of privacy. Those kinds of things are personal, and I want our guests to feel like they can come to us for help with them."
Lucifer's face lost all expression. Charlie only doubled down as she stood. "If I do that, I risk losing everyone's trust, and I need that to help them reach redemption. I know they'll come to me, to us," she gestured to the room, "for help with their contracts, and we'll help them find a way out." Her eyes set into a look of fierce determination. Vaggie nodded in agreement and stared Lucifer down with an equally stern gaze.
Lucifer stood. Whatever his thoughts on the matter were, he didn't let them show. His lips tipped upward into another empty smile. "Okay, Love. We'll do it your way. But the offer is always open." He waved his hand. His mostly uneaten breakfast evaporated into thin air. "Best of luck with today." He flipped his wrist like a magician would for a card trick, his hat and his coat appeared between his fingers. With the other hand, he spun his apple cane into existence. Once he was put together, he gave a cheeky little way and disappeared in a shower of red glitter.
Charlie dropped into her seat and groaned. "That was," she rubbed a hand down her face, "a lot."
Vaggie rubbed her girlfriend's back and smiled in sympathy. A heavy feeling settled in the back of her head at the same time. She looked at Alastor. He seemed a little troubled as well. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly where the King had stood. His eyes meet Vaggie. Both of them knew something was off but couldn't entirely put their finger on it.
---
There was no time for Charlie to linger on everything she learned. There was an event to host, and Vaggie forced the morning news bomb out of her head so she could focus on support. It turned out to be another mistake. She should have asked more questions. Hadn’t they learned already that Lucifer didn’t share things unless there was a reason? The news about Charlie’s ability was too convenient. That alone should have been a red flag!
The chaos that usually haunted the streets of Hell had finally found its way into the hotel and turned the innocent scavenger hunt into a spinoff of the War Zone District. Vaggie didn't know who started the first fight, but it cascaded through the 50-plus residents as an out-of-control wildfire. The imps were beside themselves, quickly overpowered by the sinners and forced to flee for their own safety. Charlie had her hands full, trying to talk Alastor down from eating everyone in his sight while Angel, Husk, and Cherri worked double time to stop the worst fights from bringing down the first floor. Niffty just delighted at the whole mess and only got angry when the windows and walls started to take a beating.
In the heat of the battle, Vaggie's instincts went off, shouting danger. At the same time, a chill ripped through her as she spun around, searching wildly for whatever was making that sensation. Distantly, she registered other sinners doing the same, breaking away from their fights to find the source of this feeling overtaking the main lobby.
Another spin, her eyes passed over Alastor, who had pulled Charlie behind him. Black snapping tentacles raised out of the ground in a defensive circle. His eyes roamed around the room, his ears turning like radar dishes in search of something. Charlie pressed against his back with her shield out.
BEHIND, her senses screamed.
She spun. Spear striking out. If she didn't strike first. She would die. She would die. She would die. And she WOULDN'T leave Charlie alone again.
There was a scream. Horrified. Forcing her back into her body. Her eyes tracked up her outstretched arm.
A quiet "oh."
Her eyes drifted up the black shaft of her spear. Over the purple glove hand that gripped it. To the blade, she polished and sharpened every day before bed. To the twisted pin-stripped fabric where the point dug in.
"Nice hit," followed by a bright ringing laugh.
Vaggie's breath stuttered. Her gaze jumped up, meeting glittering red jewels in a sea of yellow.
"The twist is a nice touch. Ensures maximum damage," Lucifer smiled. He leaned into her blade, settling against the shaft of her spear like he would Husk's bar. His posture relaxed. Expression serene. "Seems like you're all having a bit of trouble," he continued conversationally, eyes firmly planted on Vaggie. His head tipped to one side thoughtfully and hummed. Then he stepped away. Vaggie stepped backward. She forced herself to remain standing, no matter how much her knees wanted to give out under the weight of his stare. She placed the butt of the spear on the ground and turned toward Charlie's direction, keeping Lucifer in her peripherals. Charlie looked terrified, held back by Alastor.
Lucifer walked past Vaggie, his expression considering as he took in the scene. The stunned and terrified sinners backed out of his path as he stopped in front of Charlie and Alastor. "Do you mind announcing that all sinners in the hotel will be transported to their rooms, and we're going on lockdown for a bit?" Lucifer asked politely, "just until we sort out this mess."
Alastor released Charlie, who rushed to Vaggie's side. Charlie worried about the ex-Exorcist. Vaggie couldn't take her eyes off the fallen angel. Her mind replayed the moment and picked out one detail again and again. He hadn't been hurt. There wasn't a scratch. A nick. A speck of blood. Her angelic spear did nothing. Her arms felt numb from the strike. It felt like she had punched a steel wall with all her might and left no dent.
Alastor's voice sounded throughout the hotel. She didn't hear a single word he said over the ringing in her ear. She watched distantly as Lucifer waved a hand, causing every guest in the room to vanish in a burst of gold. The chill sipped deeper, reaching into her bones and settling around the merrow. Adam had always believed they could defeat the Devil. He would share his ideas with his strongest fighters about how they would do it. She had sat through so many meetings with strategies and diagrams. They talked about what weapons they would use and formations they could fly. He never got approval from the higher-ups. She was starting to understand why.
Lucifer stopped in front of her with Alastor behind him. Her spear would reach if she tried again. Adam couldn't hurt the devil. She had watched the fight all those months ago. If the strongest angel in their army couldn't, why did she think she could?
Had she been fooled that much by the Devil’s mask?
Didn't the safety tapes tell her the truth?
Angel's words echoed, 'we can't protect against that!'
And yet, she still thought she stood a chance. Vaggie believed with her training and skills and a well-thought-out plan. She could bring him down if necessary. And Lucifer knew it. He had seen right through her hubris.
Reality crashed back into her. The morning conversation washed over her like a cold shower. The Devil had seen through Vaggie, and he had known about today, too.
"You knew this would happen?" Vaggie accused. Interrupting whatever conversation was taking place. Her white-hot anger pushed past the numbing cold of the Devil’s arrival. "That's why you brought up Charlie's ability to see collared demons."
"Vaggie!" Charlie gasped. Distraught. She looked between her father and her girlfriend with growing worry as Vaggie took a challenging step forward.
"No, Charlie!" Vaggie hated yelling at her, but she had to. Her dad couldn't be trusted. Vaggie was sure of it now. He wasn't just a dangerous, powerful being. He was dangerous to Charlie's dream, and Vaggie wouldn't let him destroy it when they finally had Heaven's backing! "He knew that something was gonna happen today and didn't tell us. He didn't even try to stop it and look!" She gestured wildly at the destroyed lobby. The broken bar. The still burning furniture. "We almost lost everything!"
Charlie's face twisted. Too many thoughts and emotions flashed across it. Vaggie grabbed Charlie's hands, her own desperation propelling her forward. "I know you want him back in your life, but at what cost? Charlie, what we're doing here is so much more important!"
Vaggie reached a shaking hand up toward her love's cheek. A gloved hand intercepted and pulled it away. "I think you're catastrophizing a little too much, Vaggie," Lucifer spoke calmly.
Vaggie ripped herself away from Lucifer and glared. "Am I?" she challenged hotly. " Why else did you bring it up?"
Lucifer tapped a foot against the floor. The fires went out, and the damages began to knit themselves back together. The broken wood and stone tumbled across the ground, snapping back like puzzle pieces. Glass sparkled and shimmered in rainbow colors as they flitted through the air and to their rightful places. All the while, Lucifer calmly explained what he had noticed over the last few weeks. What only he could see as the Ruler of Hell. "I noticed an increase in collared sinners," he stated simply. "I know you don't turn them away, but there was a concerning amount of them applying recently. At first, I thought they might be trying to get away from their contractor. But I noticed a few of them are contracted to the same deal-maker. Maybe an Overlord or two."
He faced Vaggie's glare head-on. "I did not know they would pull something like this today. Even for me,” he placed a hand on his chest, “I would actively need to see what their deal contains. But that wouldn't even cover what commands their Overlord might've given," he explained plainly. "I may be the closest thing we have to a God down here, but I am not all-knowing, Vaggie."
Charlie pushed Vaggie behind her. Using her tall body to block Lucifer’s sharp gaze. "Please don't be angry with her," her girlfriend pleaded. Vaggie's heart clenched. This wasn’t what she wanted. Vaggie didn’t want Charlie fighting her dad.
Lucifer’s expression softened. "I'm not," he said firmly. "She was once an exorcist. She might be a few years removed, but she was still conditioned by Heaven to hate me. I can't be upset with something she can't help."
Vaggie inhaled sharply. "I'm not," she started to protest. She left that life behind. She had always believed it had been cut out of her with her eye, yanked off with her wings. But how often did she fall back on her training to solve a problem? She couldn't even bring herself to let go of her spear, the one thing that tied back to her past. She always believed she kept it to protect herself, Charlie, and the life they were building together.
The truth was, the real horrible truth, she hadn't let go.
Her breath hitched, and her mind spiraled downward. She blinked rapidly as the world around her wavered. The edges turned black, and dots began to blot out the rest.
She hadn’t wanted to leave Heaven. Memories flashed before her eyes. Training the younger recruits. The friends she promised to go shopping with at the farmer’s market. The silly pranks the older officers played on Adam. All things she would never get to take part in again. People she would never get to say goodbye to because of a choice she made.
Vaggie didn't regret the life she had carved out for herself in Hell. She loved it too, but...but...
"I get it," Lucifer said softly, his voice echoing in her head. “It wasn’t your choice.”
Charlie's arms swept Vaggie up into a bridle carry, reversing their usual roles as her girlfriend carried the weeping fallen angel away from the repaired lobby. Lucifer watched them go. His expression was one of understanding. Of commiseration.
Of course, he understood, Vaggie realized. He knew what it was like to give up a life you loved with no goodbyes and rebuild it on a foundation of painful sorrows with only the hope of a better tomorrow around the corner.
Vaggie cried for the first time for the life she lost, mourning all the goodbyes she never got to say. The chilling fear in her bones and old bitter wounds split open to spill out into the present. Leaving her clinging to the only source of warmth she had in hopes it would ground her back in reality and heal her broken heart. Charlie held her tight as Vaggie mentally shook apart in their room. "I'm sorry, Charlie," Vaggie sniffled. Her face pressed against her partner's chest as her love ran calming fingers through her long silver hair.
"There's nothing to apologize for," Charlie whispered.
"Your dad," Vaggie murmured, "he wasn't wrong. It wasn't just Adam, though. Every angel talks about how terrible the Devil is."
Charlie was quiet for a moment. "I kind of got that from the negotiations," Charlie huffed, "they treated him like a wild animal. Like he would attack at any second."
"I'm sorry," shame burned deep. To think, Vaggie had acted just like all the other angels when she had believed she left it all behind. Conditioned indeed. "I said those awful things."
"He's not angry at you," Charlie reaffirmed, "Dad understands."
Yeah, he did. He knew, and that comforted and scared Vaggie at the same time. To be seen and understood by the Devil was dangerous—so very, very dangerous. And there was nothing she could do about it but be there for the love of her life. She would do anything for Charlie.
Notes:
I do like Vaggie. I don't mean to make her such a hardass or paint her in a bad light, but I feel like she would have been conditioned to distrust the Devil since she came from Heaven.
When watching the show, I noticed she often fell back on her training and thought it was a missed opportunity. The show's runtime only allowed so much story and time for each character. Their loss is FanFic writers' gain!
Next week's chapter is going to be one of the longest! Stay tune!
Sneak Peek:
Warmth flew up her arm and mixed into her own magic, guiding it upward to her eyes. Slowly, she could see something faint start to come off Husk. She narrowed her eyes and leaned forward. The magic grew more intense, reaching outward in search of something to connect with. Her sight focused, zoomed in like a camera lens until a thick green chain appeared and trailed off from Husk. "I can see it!" Charlie crowed excitedly. Then, "Oh." The chain wasn't just thick. It was sturdy. Her eyes followed the floating chain to its origin.See AlsoVaroi the level 50 Halfling Necromancer by SernoLife of a Pioneer: Being the Autobiography of James S. BrownBoudica, the warrior queen: power, memory and feminismAuction, Collectibles Auction, Original Historical Documents"Congrats," Alastor and his canned audience cheered.
Chapter 6: The Ties That Bind
Summary:
Warmth flew up her arm and mixed into her own magic, guiding it upward to her eyes. Slowly, she could see something faint start to come off Husk. She narrowed her eyes and leaned forward. The magic grew more intense, reaching outward in search of something to connect with. Her sight focused, zoomed in like a camera lens until a thick green chain appeared and trailed off from Husk. "I can see it!" Charlie crowed excitedly. Then, "Oh." The chain wasn't just thick. It was sturdy. Her eyes followed the floating chain to its origin.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Once Charlie was sure Vaggie had calmed down, she left their room to meet with her dad. Her heart felt heavy after watching her beautiful, strong-willed partner fall to pieces. It pierced her to the core. Made her feel like a bad partner by not realizing all the stress, pain, and fear Vaggie had been holding back. Vaggie was always putting Charlie’s needs first, and Charlie hadn’t noticed until now how reliant she became.
Today could have been prevented if Charlie had just stepped up and done what was needed. Put her foot down instead of allowing herself to be shoved around. Others had no problem taking advantage of this flaw. The angels. Low-level sinners. Now, some Overlord. All she wanted was a middle ground to meet with others, but it was becoming increasingly clear no one else wanted that. As a consequence, her partner had been hurt, and her dream had nearly been wrecked. She was lost at what to do and hoped that learning this new ability might give her some new perspective. Maybe open another door to help her people.
She found her dad at Husk's bar with the rest of their friends. Husk noticed her first and Angel second. "How is she?" Angel asked.
Charlie's heart ached. Angel and Vaggie's friendship had come such a long way. "Resting," she said, "I told her to."
"Good," Husk grunted, "she's been running herself ragged lately."
"Stubborn ass. Needs a chill pill or six!" Cherri pipped with a playful smile that Charlie did her best to return.
"So what's the plan?" Husk asked, "now that we got everyone locked up."
Charlie cringed and fiddled with her fingers nervously. She didn't want to do this, but today's events had forced her hand. It's what's best for the hotel, she tried to reason, so they could move forward and help those who wanted redemption. Charlie squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. "We'll go through our guests and find all those who are under the same Overlord. Then we'll ask them if they want redemption and help them if we can," she said determinedly.
Her friends looked at one another, unsure.
"Okay," Angel started carefully, "how yous gonna help 'em?"
Charlie's thoughts stalled. That was always the question, and she never had an answer. How long has Angel been here, and she hasn't been able to free him? Charlie visibly deflated. She couldn't break contracts. That's what her dad told them this morning. A bitter taste bloomed on the back of her tongue.
"We're getting ahead of ourselves," Alastor called from his spot against the bar. His red-tipped claws tapped on the shell of his microphone thoughtfully. "There are too many factors to consider when freeing someone from their deal. Why don't we first start by finding the troublemakers and figuring out which Overlord sent them?"
Charlie nodded. She didn't like it, but it was better than not doing anything at all. "Okay. One thing at a time." She turned to her dad, who had been sitting quietly, listening to them debate. "How do I do it?" She waved a hand at her face. " See the thing," she added.
Lucifer chuckled. "Today, we'll focus on just seeing the binds." He looked at Alastor and gestured to Husk. "Do you mind if I use Husk as an example?"
"Use Niffty too, if it'll help," Alastor drawled with a lazy flick of his wrist.
"Sure, whatever," Husk grumbled, tossing his cleaning towel over his left shoulder.
"Feel free to check me out, too," Angel volunteered with a flirtatious wink.
"Great!" Lucifer clapped his hands and waved for Charlie to join him a little ways from the group so they could face the bar instead. "It's a sub-reality," he explained. "I think of it like changing a camera lens or putting on a different pair of glasses. Whatever can help your mind focus. We'll start with Husk since his contract is very strong and should be easy to see."
Alastor puffed up. His ever-present smile turned slightly more cocky. "Naturally," he bragged, "I never make a shoddy deal."
Lucifer rolled his eyes. He took one of Charlie's hands. The cat demon shifted on his feet, the only show of his nerves. "I'll guide you. Try to feel how your magic moves," her dad directed.
Warmth flew up her arm and mixed into her own magic, guiding it upward to her eyes. Slowly, she could see something faint start to come off Husk. She narrowed her eyes and leaned forward. The magic grew more intense, reaching outward in search of something to connect with. Her sight focused, zoomed in like a camera lens until a thick green chain appeared and trailed off from Husk. "I can see it!" Charlie crowed excitedly. Then, "Oh." The chain wasn't just thick. It was sturdy. Her eyes followed the floating chain to its origin.
"Congrats," Alastor and his canned audience cheered.
"So many," Charlie gasped breathlessly. She couldn't see the deer demon. He was wrapped in all sorts of bindings. They spread out in all directions from him through the hotel's walls. One green rope twisted through the air, tying off at her wrist.
Horror overtook Charlie. She wrenched her hand away from her dad. The magic immediately dropped, and her vision cleared. She stumbled backward, pressing the hand she had seen the rope tied to against her chest. Alastor tilted his head, all innocence. One of his thin eyebrows raised in question. Horror turned to betrayal, but that wasn't fair, and she knew it. She knew who Alastor was when she let him into the hotel and when they started their partnership. She had just forgotten because he'd been so helpful and supported her dream and fought for it. She had put his darker side out of her mind. Disconnected it from him in favor of seeing him as one of her own.
"Everything alright, my dear?" The Overlord asked carefully. His voice still held some cheer but slightly dimmed with caution.
Charlie pulled her eyes away, unsure what her face might be showing. Aware that the others were watching their inaction and waiting to see how it’d played out. Charlie breathed deeply and let it out slowly. Hell had a funny way of reminding its inhabitants how cruel a place it can be.
Charlie cleared her throat. Trying to rid it of the lump that had made a home there. "Yeah," she smiled weakly at Alastor, "just remembered where we were." She turned back to her dad with a somber gaze. Putting Alastor's perplexed expression to her back. "Let's do Angel next," she said with more determination than she felt.
Angel stepped away from the group and leaned into a sexy pose. "I'm all yours, sweetheart." He winked. His flirty smile helped break the tension that had built up.
Charlie laughed at the display. Lucifer didn't magically guide her this time. He gave careful verbal instructions, which she tried her best to follow. Drew up her magic to settle around her eyes and focused it to gaze into the sub-reality where the bindings existed. It took several minutes. Her eyes strained with the magic and the squinting until Angel's pink misty chain finally became visible. It was nowhere near as solid as Husk. Fragile, she thought, like a good yank would be enough to break the misty links binding Angel to his Overlord. "It doesn't look that strong," she said out loud, "kind of smoky."
Angel huffed, "maybe ta yous, but he's dragged me around by it oft enouf."
Charlie cringed, "Sorry, I didn't..." Her magic dropped. The chain fell out of sight.
Angel waved her apology off. "It is what it is, Dolly." Charlie wanted to say more but knew Angel didn't like talking about that part of his job or anything to do with the moth demon.
"Okay, I'm ready!" Her eyes hurt. She didn't know how she'd make it through all the guests, but she would. She had to.
"No."
The single word brought all her enthusiasm crashing to a halt.
"What the fuck you mean, no, old man?" Cherri shouted, "didn't we just agree on finding the bastards who were fucking up this joint."
"That's still happening," Lucifer explained with a patient smile that was starting to become a common look whenever he dealt with Charlie and her friends. "But Charlie just tapped into this ability. She won't be able to do it for an extended period of time, so I will. Charlie can follow along until her magic runs out."
He turned to Charlie, his entire demeanor shifting from fatherly and helpful to serious business, leaving little room for arguments. "Just this once, Love, I ask you to let me handle this situation. Afterward, we'll do it your way."
Charlie frowned. "I don't want anyone to die."
"I promise no guests will be killed." His eyes glowed, and his smile turned slightly wicked before smoothing out into something kind and friendly again.
Charlie nodded. That was all she could ask for, given the circumstances.
The imps finished roll call with the residents, while Alastor ensured no form of communication left the hotel. How he did it, he never explained. If Charlie had to guess a combination of his radio powers and black magic. Her dad locked down the hotel further with a few spells that prevented people from leaving by any means. Especially teleportation, should the Overlord try to call their minions back to them when they realize they've been cut off.
Charlie and Lucifer began the long process of searching for any sinner under a contract. Charlie lasted only through the first floor, following behind her father like a little duckling as he walked by each door, only stopping when they came across a bind drifting through the wood. He then knocked on the door, sending the sinner inside to the ballroom, where Alastor and the others would guard them for the second step.
There were all sorts of bindings, Charlie learned. Favors appeared like ropes or strings. Soul contracts were represented more often with chains. If the deal was strong, the binds would appear more solid. If the bind looked frayed, rusty, or misty, something about the agreement was weak. Everything, her dad explained as they walked the floors, usually came down to wording or the magic used in the contracts. If Charlie ever had a hope of helping any of these sinners, she would have to understand the basics of deal-making and find the weakness in the deal. “It’s there,” Lucifer said, tapping on yet another door. “A loophole. An overlooked clause. Weak magic. Poor wording.” He stopped and looked up at her, “Even the strength of the soul can give you an edge to break it.” He smirked. “Lots of deal-makers underestimate the power of free will, Love.”
To her great dismay, 35 of the 50 residents in attendance at the Hazbin Hotel were contracted. Charlie stood on the small stage in the ballroom, gazing over the guests and preparing for the second part of the process: interrogation. She vowed that if any of them wanted help, she would find a way, regardless of what anyone else said. This was her hotel, and she refused to be pushed around in her own home.
Before she could open her mouth, Lucifer spoke, "Let's make this quick. Shall we." He tapped the floor with the butt of his cane. All types of bonds were made visible. Everyone stared at the chains floating in the air, their endings reaching beyond the walls. "If you have a contract with the same deal-maker or Overlord group up."
It was easier to count who wasn't owned by the same, as it turned out, three Overlords. Just four sinners sat off to the side, staring in wide-eyed shock at the groups. "Right then," Lucifer said, "we'll start with those ones and move to the others. The rest of you can watch this while you wait." He snapped his fingers. A screen dropped down, and a movie started playing. Food and drink carts burst into existence, along with cushions for those waiting their turn in the hot seat.
They started with the four sinners. Talking to them one at a time. Each one took a little more wind out of Charlie's sail.
The first guest wanted to escape the huge gambling debt they owed.
The second guest was hiding from their abusive husband of four years. Their soul deal served more as a marriage contract. Not unheard of, but it's a rare use for sinners nowadays.
The third guest had gotten caught sampling the drugs he was supposed to sell and was on the run from a mob group.
The fourth guest was the only one actively seeking redemption, although they had made the mistake of trading their soul for some early VoxTek experience when the business was still young and hadn't become the mega company it is today.
For the most part, all of them had come to the hotel for protection. Whether it was from the Radio Demon or the Devil, it didn't matter to them. Rumor on the streets said the safest place in Hell was the hotel because the Overlords wouldn't touch it. Not with Heaven's backing and the Devil quite literally living there. And the princess, the sweet, naive Princess, never turned anyone away. She didn't ask anyone's intentions for staying at the hotel. So long as you look like you are trying, you get free food and drinks and a roof over your head with no strings attached. And if your trouble did catch up with you. The hotel always took the side of the residents.
That fact stung Charlie more than the three sinners who were not trying for redemption.
Loan sharks had come knocking more than once. Angry spouses and the like. And what had they done? What had she done? Sent Alastor or Vaggie out like attack dogs, no questions asked. She was convinced the outside world was the problem. Hell was the problem. She never thought about the trouble coming from inside the house.
Charlie sat with her head in her hands as Husk guided the fourth sinner away. They still had the ones owned by the Overlords to go through. She still hadn't decided what to do with the ones who weren't here for redemption. Everything was suddenly too much. "What do I do?" She groaned.
If Vaggie were here, she'd say kick them out. But in the beginning, Angel hadn't been serious either, and now look at him. He even agreed to start leading some of the sessions!
"You're getting ahead of yourself again," her dad pointed out.
"But," Charlie protested, "What if I can change their minds!"
Lucifer hummed thoughtfully. His fingers tapped against the apple at the head of his cane. He had done away with his coat but kept his hat, which doubled as his crown. "I don't mean this unkindly or to sound too critical. You're still learning. I need you to understand that," he spoke slowly and carefully. He waited for Charlie to meet his gaze before continuing. “You need to focus on what your current issue is."
"I am!" Charlie shouted, slamming her hands on the table. It groaned under her strength. Her power flared. Her horns burst through her skin, and her eyes turned a deep red. Her fangs grew long, and her nails sharpened. She scratched grooves into the table as fire flicked between her teeth. "How do I get everyone to take redemption seriously? That's what this is all about!"
Lucifer didn't flinch or show any outward reaction to her demonic traits making an appearance. He sat calmly as Charlie's rage washed through the small room. Her magic pressed against the walls and floors in swirling red and gold sparkles. Cracks spiderwebbed outward from her feet. Her voice rumbled, echoing around them. "The issue is that no one is taking me or this hotel seriously and thinks they can do whatever they want with it! And I've had it. I won't let them keep getting away with it!"
"What are you going to do about it?" Lucifer voiced the question everyone kept asking her, the question that had plagued her since she first opened the doors of the hotel.
"I DON'T KNOW!" she cried helplessly. "I don't know how to get them to listen." She sank back into her chair. Her demonic features faded away. "I feel like I've tried everything. But no one is listening. And I don't know why."
She dropped her head onto the table in defeat. The tears she had been holding back finally broke free. Lucifer let her cry for a few minutes before speaking, "you're kind, Charlie. In Hell, sinners see that as something to exploit."
Charlie turned her head so she could see her dad, who was smiling warmly. He reached forward and wiped away the tears he could reach. "Kindness is not a weakness. If you learn how to utilize it correctly, no one will be able to stand in your way. The doors you could open would be endless and unimaginable."
Charlie sniffed and sat up. She wanted to believe it. "You've always been clever, Baby Girl. You have a lot going for you. You've achieved many things. Don't let this knock you off course," Lucifer continued.
"But what do I do?" She asked.
"What do you want to do?" Her dad countered.
Charlie thought for a moment. "I want to speak to the Overlords and see if I can convince them to let go of the sinners who want to pursue redemption."
Lucifer chuckled. His eyes sparkled with amusement. "You've never taken the easy road. Even when you were little. Always gave me trouble."
"You don't think it will work?" She asked, brushing away the last of her tears.
"You know Overlords. Know where their powers come from. You're asking them to give away that power with nothing in return," he explained.
Charlie chewed on her bottom lip. She had to give them something, but nothing was equal to a soul. She could offer favors, but so many things could go wrong. She drew a blank.
Seeing her struggle, Lucifer patted her knee. "You don't need to figure it out now," he told her, "when you're ready to negotiate with an Overlord, Alastor or I can set up a meeting."
"But, the ones that sent the–"
"Didn't I ask you to let me handle this one?" Lucifer interrupted softly. "I have no intention of letting them get away with attempting to hurt you, your friends, the staff, or the hotel. They crossed a line, Charlie, and a clear message needs to be sent."
"What are you going to do?" She asked worriedly.
"Whatever needs to be done," Lucifer replied lightly, "I'll keep my promise that the guests will not be harmed. It most likely wasn't their choice. They were only following orders."
He stood and opened a portal back to the ballroom. The movie's credits were rolling. "You and your friends should retire for the evening. I'll handle everything from here," Lucifer suggested.
Charlie shook her head. "It's my hotel, my responsibility. I need to see this through to the end."
Lucifer didn't argue, only made the suggestion to the rest of their friends and received similar responses. Most of them just wanted to see some Overlords get put in their place. "It will get uncomfortable for you," he warned.
"Don't threaten us with a good time, Devil dearest," Alastor cooed. Canned laughter filled the area around him as he smiled gleefully.
Lucifer stood in front of the stage rather than on top. He was shorter than nearly everyone in the room. His top hat did nothing to add to his height. If anything, it only highlighted what he lacked. His white and red clothing showed off his thin frame. Unassuming would be the word to describe him. His big red on yellow eyes scanned the room, taking in each sinner present. The guests stared back with various degrees of weariness. Lucifer smiled broadly as he twirled his apple cane like a baton.
"Now," he chirped, "Let's see who's behind this mess." He slammed the cane onto the ground with one hand while reaching out with the other. A binding of each Overlord drifted toward him. With a lazy flick of the wrist, three demons poofed before him in a shower of golden sparkles.
"You let that little rat know I'll drown his whole..." A burly demon with fiery hair, road signs, and car parts for a body trailed off. He spun around once to get a lay of the room before facing Lucifer.
The second Overlord appeared in a flurry of papers. She looked across between a tree, sand, and a hornet's nest. She held her pen daintily in the air. Her face froze in confused shock before smoothing out into indifference at the sight before her.
The last Overlord looked like he stepped out of a novel featuring vampires if they were made out of gothic iron gates. He certainly had the cap for it and red glowing eyes that narrowed at Charlie, who stood on the left of her dad. His twisted-up teeth grinned as he swept into a low bow. "Alastor," he greeted the deer demon on Lucifer's right, "to see you well after the defeat you suffered at the hands of the first man. It brings joy to one's heart."
Alastor grinned back with equal teeth. "Cadmium!" Alastor greeted all jovial, "glad to see you haven't rusted away."
Charlie smiled nervously as the two demons glared at each other. Lucifer coughed as he tossed his cane into the air and caught it in a spin. "If you two are done, I'd like to get this show on the road." His smile was friendly. Pleasant even despite the obvious disrespect of a sinner being greeted before the King.
Cadmium pulled his eyes away from Alastor. "Apologies," he paused, looking Lucifer up and down thoughtfully. His smile turned humorous around the edges. "Your majesty," he finished, "to what do I owe the honor of being summoned?"
Lucifer gestured to the guests behind the Overlords with his cane. "Your minions were caught disrupting and causing damage to my daughter's hotel."
"And what does that have to do with us?" The hornet Overlord asked, her tone full of confusion.
Charlie couldn't tell if the female Overlord was genuine with her emotions. Charlie understood sinners lied, so she often gave them the benefit of the doubt. She couldn’t afford to do that with Overlords, especially not with those who were so openly disrespectful to her father.
"Well, Miss?" Lucifer paused.
"Vespa," the female Overlord curtsy.
"Right," Lucifer nodded, "I found it a bit odd that so many of your collared souls are attending our establishment. And would choose today of all days to act out. They very nearly destroyed the lobby and killed our staff."
"You think we told them to do that?" the car parts Overlord laughed. " Maybe they got too competitive."
"I agree with Aries," Cadmium chuckled, "perhaps the game got a little too heated."
Lucifer hummed. His grin turned sly. "So you don't have any problem with your collared demons pursuing redemption?"
The change in the three Overlords was immediate. All the humor evaporated instantly, replaced with a simmering tension. Cadmium's face, made up of twisting iron, settled into a chilly glare. Aries's fiery hair changed into a deeper red as he sneered. Vespa returned to a careful mask of indifference, her only sign of irritation being the increased buzzing sound from the hornets somewhere inside her body.
Lucifer sighed as he leaned on his staff. "Let's try this again. And no lying this time," he wagged a finger at the Overlords like they were misbehaving children, "and maybe we can reach a compromise!" He threw a hand outward in a show of open invention.
Aries snorted. "Are you fucking kidding me? You want us to negotiate?"
"It would be in your best interest to try, Fender Bender," Lucifer said, tone turning dark. "Why don't we start with a confession?" The lights in the ballroom began to dim. A slight chill curled around Charlie’s ankles.
"I did nothing wrong," Vespa said. Her voice was firm. "I am only protecting my investments. The Princess and her endeavors threaten my continued existence as an Overlord and what I have achieved." The female Overlord turned to Charlie and bowed deeply. "I will not offer empty apologies for something I feel I am in the right to protect."
Charlie was flabbergasted. She looked over to Alastor, who seemed greatly amused by Vespa's fierce and brave declaration. Then she looked down at her father but couldn't see his face because of the top hat. "Um," Charlie fumbled. “I want to work with the Overlords to find a way that benefits us both." Charlie's voice was weak, lacking confidence.
Vespa watched the Princess through the fringes of her hair, which were made of tiny, drooping leaves. She straightened back up with a thoughtful look.
"Fuck that," snapped Aries.
Alastor laughed. "Only sorry for getting caught? Should have planned better, old chap!"
"It was a gamble, I'll admit," Cadmium sighed, "but who'd have thought it'd turn out like this? So what will our punishment be, my King? Death?" The demon asked with equal amounts of spite and amusement.
The temperature in the room plummeted, and the lights flickered. All around them, hundreds of eyes opened. When Lucifer spoke, a thousand voices joined—women, children, young and old. "No. Death is freedom, and that is not a mercy you deserve." Laughter and screams echoed.
It felt like all the gravity in the room tripled. A pressure slammed down on Charlie's shoulders, nearly sending her crashing to her knees. She watched in stunned terror as the guests collapsed to the ground, flattened to their bellies by an invisible weight. In contrast, the Overlords were brought to their knees. They struggled to keep their heads up and watched as their King lazily strolled forward like he was out for a midday walk.
He touched Aries first. The fire of the demon's hair went out, leaving trailing smoke behind. On his knees, he was leveled with Lucifer's crimson gaze. "Did you foster any loyalty?" the Devil asked, "Will anyone want to protect you?"
"Please," Aries begged. "I'm sorry. It was stupid."
Lucifer laughed with the haunted voices. "It was," he agreed, “and the best way to learn from mistakes is to be taught a lesson.” He leaned forward, his snake tongue flicking between his lips. "You will start again. A fresh coat of paint, a return to the beginning. All you had is returned to which it came."
All the bindings. All the contracts Aries ever formed sprung into existence. The demon shook as the King shoved the head of his cane into the center of Aries’ chest. Aries screamed as the chains and ropes broke and tore as Lucifer twisted the apple. Once the sinner could breathe again, Lucifer patted the demon on the shoulder. "Maybe you'll learn how to treasure what you have a bit more." The King flicked his wrist, sending the demon back to where he came.
The pressure stopped, but no one dared move as Lucifer sauntered onto Vaspa. The female Overlord kept her head down. She clasped her hands tightly in front of her. "For your honesty," Lucifer lifted her face with the apple of his cane. “I will only ask for you to release the souls you sent to the hotel and guarantee you will not pull another stunt like this again."
"You have my word," Vaspa gasped.
"Off you go then," Lucifer waved dismissively. The she-demon stumbled to her feet and to her collared demons to begin work.
Lucifer finally came to a stop before Cadmium. The wrought iron that made up the demon's body creaked. A squeal came from the marble floor as he ran his claws angrily against the stonework. He glared up at the little King. "You," he snarled, "think you can just come waltzing back in here and start telling us what to do after you've been hiding away in your little tower."
"Oh. Is that what you think I've been doing?" The King laughed.
"Everyone knows you don't give a SHIT about sinners. About what we do. You washed your hands of us long before I arrived in Hell. Even though it's your fault, we're here in the first place!" Cadmium spat. His red eyes glowed with malice.
The eyes on the walls blinked asynchronously. The voices whispered at one another and laughed.
"Did you hear that?" the voices asked.
"He said it was his fault?" they giggled, and the eyes on the walls rolled in glee.
"The Devil's fault!” they sang.
"But didn't he make the choice?" The voice whispered to one another.
"Wasn't it his choice?" They asked the Devil, whose smile twisted in cruel delight.
"Wasn't it your choice to die like that?" The voices laughed at the Overlord.
"Shut up!" Cadmium roared at the voices. He lept to his feet and glared down at the small King. His gaze turned manic. His eyes burned with a wildfire. "This kingdom is in ruin because of you! It could be so much more if only it had the right guidance."
Lucifer's voice was his own again. Clear and calm, "and you could be it?"
Cadmium's sneer turned maniacal. "That's right!"
Charlie watched the world suddenly move in slow motion as Cadmium's left arm shot forward. Out of his sleeve, a small gun popped into his hand and fired. The bang was loud. Smoke trailed into the air from its tip. The laughing voices went quiet. The sinners gasped and screamed. The eyes on the walls froze open as if they were surprised by the turn of events. Lucifer's hat toppled backward and bounced two times before stopping into a wobbly roll.
Her dad's hand came up and caught the flat silver angelic bullet as it slid from between his eyes. He held it up high. Making a show of inspecting it. Opened his mouth. Wrapped his forked tongue around the faintly glowing artifact and swallowed it whole like the snake so many claimed him to be.
The voices of the damned, because they couldn't be anything but that, burst into uproarious laughter. The eyes around them rolled in the shared humor with the Devil.
"He thought that'd work," the voices laughed.
"He thought he could kill the Devil," they giggled.
"Thank you, thank you," Lucifer said, sweeping into a bow for his invisible audience as he picked up his hat.
"What?" Cadmium asked, baffled.
Lucifer grinned wickedly. He reached out and patted Cadmium on the chest with faux sympathy. "There, there. Sometimes, I forget who I am, too."
Cadmium jerked away from the Devil. Fear filled his features. It rattled out of him. Shook the iron bars of his body. His breathing picked up into quick pants as he looked around for an escape.
Lucifer tilted his head assessingly. He followed Cadmium as the demon stumbled backward. The butt of his cane somehow sounded loud over the laughing of the voices as it tapped against the ground.
"Your majesty," Cadmium began, "Mistakes were made. Tempers were lost. You know how it can cloud one's judgment." He tripped over a cushion on the ground and fell on his back. He raised a hand defensively.
Lucifer hummed good naturally. His hand wrapped around the forearm of the raised arm as he loomed over the demon. "By all accounts, you just tried to start a one-demon coup, my little Picket Fence."
"Now, wait," the Overlord tried to protest.
Lucifer spoke over him. The voices jeered in the background, calling for blood and death. "Ordinarily, that would be a death sentence, but then that would be getting off too easily. No. No. I have something better for you."
He squeezed Cadmium's forearm. The iron bars beneath his fingers creaked and bent. "First, let's get rid of all these pisky deals you made." The bindings appeared, and just like with Aries, the King slammed the apple of his cane into Cadmium’s chest, tearing his contracts to pieces and leaving the demon gasping for breath. "Now, don't look away," Lucifer leaned down to tip the demon's head up with his cane. "That's it. Yes. This one," he said soothingly. Cadmium's face smoothed out into a serene and dreamy expression. His body sagged until the only thing keeping him up was Lucifer's hold on his arm.
"You're going to be so good for a friend of mine, aren't you?" Lucifer whispered. He ran gentle fingers down the intricate carvings of Cadmium's face. The demon sighed. The voices sighed back. Cadmium’s eyes were at half-mast as he stared up at the King in a lustful daze. As Lucifer let the arm go, Cadmium fell out of sight.
The lights flickered. The eyes disappeared. The air warmed. Everyone was pressed against the edges of the ballroom, leaving Lucifer alone in the center, staring down at where Cadmium used to be.
The silence stretched into minutes.
Finally, Charlie forced herself out of her stupor. "Dad," she called timidly.
"If you're worried about it, my friend won't make him do anything unsavory while in that state," Lucifer said, sounding tired.
That was good to hear, but not what worried Charlie. "Are you okay?"
"What?" Her dad turned, looking generally confused by the question. He pointedly looked at the frightened guests and the remaining Overlord. All of them stared at him with absolute, overwhelming fear. "I don't think I'm the one you need to worry about, Love."
Charlie shook her head. All the progress he had made in contacting others had been wiped out. He had to step in and do what she couldn't. Charlie rushed over and pulled him into a tight hug. "You had to do all this because I failed," she whispered so only he could hear. "I'm so sorry. I'll do better. I'll figure it out. I promise."
Lucifer patted her back with a soft chuckle. "I'll always help, my little girl."
Notes:
While I enjoyed writing this chapter, I also worried about going too big this time around.
Then I remembered that this is still not him going 100%.
At most, he just slapped the Overlords. This is nothing to him.
But to everyone else, he just gave them a really scary look behind the scenes.FanFic recommendation: Another good Lucifer Fic - The King of Hell by BlurryZiele
Sneak Peek:
"Fellow Overlords," she began, her tone crisp and severe. “We are gathered today to discuss the issues the Hazbin Hotel presents to our continued existence as the governing bodies in Hell." Carmilla's eyes swept over the crowded room. "It goes without saying, if the hotel continues its operations and is successful in its redemption of sinners, it poses a significant threat to our power base.”A nervous murmur ran through the room.
"Does it really?" asked a soft voice somewhere among the bodies.
Chapter 7: Shaken and Stirred
Summary:
"Fellow Sovereign Overlords. Deal-Makers. Those of us whose businesses and livelihoods rely on soul contracts," she began, her tone crisp and severe. “We are gathered today to discuss the issues the Hazbin Hotel presents to our continued existence as the governing bodies in Hell." Carmilla's eyes swept over the room. "It goes without saying, if the hotel continues its operations and is successful in its redemption of sinners, it poses a significant threat to our power base.”
A nervous murmur ran through the room.
"Does it really?" asked a soft voice somewhere among the bodies.
Notes:
So funny that my first Alastor chapter is being posted during Bottom Alastor week.
Didn't plan it that way. Just how it all came together!
There is no spice in this chapter.
Just canon typical violence.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
There were more Overlords at this meeting than there had been at any of the previous ones in the last three decades. Carmilla had to open one of her bigger conference rooms just to accommodate the sheer number of attendees, and even then, she had to bring in extra chairs. There were Overlords from the other cities and some who hadn't been seen in years. There were even deal-makers on the cusp of making Overlord status in attendance. All of them had one concern: The Hazbin Hotel.
Negotiations with Heaven had finally concluded in favor of the Princess's bold project. Sinners were starting to show interest despite the Vees' and other media demons' best attempts to campaign against the hotel through social media, television adverts, and other news outlets. It seemed no amount of bad press or misinformation could dissuade the curious soul. Addon, the King of Hell, had come out of seclusion and was now living with his daughter. Hell's royalty might as well be endorsing it, even if there was no official press release.
The icing on the cake, a few days ago, two Overlords had been...how to even describe it? The witnesses sounded half-crazed. The accounts were unbelievable, even with the horribly distorted video some brave souls had managed to record and post. The warning was clear: Try to sabotage the Princess's hotel and suffer dire consequences, which brought everyone to this emergency meeting-
What to do about the hotel?
The conference room buzzed with conversation—speculation about the future, plans on how to prevent their contracted souls from attending the hotel—and worry permeated the air, mixing with the stifling tension. Alastor sat as the eye of the storm, taking in the chaos of it all. How delightful! He knew Charlie's little pet project would provide entertainment, but who knew it would get this far? His fellow Overlords were practically tripping over themselves in delectable fear to solve a problem that really didn't have a feasible solution.
No one couldn't touch the hotel, or they would incur the wrath of the little King.
Similarly, though they really wanted to, a deal couldn't prevent someone from attending the hotel, even if a demon were under a soul-binding contract. Free will is both a terrible and wonderful thing, it surprisingly messes around with a contract. That is to say, if someone wants it enough, a contracted sinner can attend the hotel so long as they are fulfilling their end of the deal. Aren't loopholes wonderful!
Thirdly, if Charlie ever caught wind that someone wanted to attend her establishment but was being prevented. She would no doubt find a way to make it happen. Her determination has no limits, as evident by her successful win over the Heavenly army.
Of course, Alastor didn’t share any of his thoughts with his colleagues. Where would the fun be in that? He’d much rather watch them flounder about instead of providing any meaningful or helpful solutions to their perceived problem. It’s what most of them deserved for the disrespect they continue to heap onto Charlie and, by extension, him.
Carmilla entered the room, flanked on either side by her daughters, and followed, as always, by Zestial. They took their respective places at the front of the room. The noise died off, leaving behind only the hum of the fluorescent tube lights above and Alastor's soft ambient white noise. Even the Vees, for once, were quiet. Carmilla stood straight back, an air of no-nonsense about her as she surveyed the gathered.
"Fellow Sovereign Overlords. Deal-Makers. Those of us whose businesses and livelihoods rely on soul contracts," she began, her tone crisp and severe. “We are gathered today to discuss the issues the Hazbin Hotel presents to our continued existence as the governing bodies in Hell." Carmilla's eyes swept over the room. "It goes without saying, if the hotel continues its operations and is successful in its redemption of sinners, it poses a significant threat to our power base.”
A nervous murmur ran through the room.
"Does it really?" asked a soft voice somewhere among the bodies.
Carmilla's eyes narrowed as she searched for the speaker.
"Who is't speak?" Zestial inquired.
A small demon stepped out from a shadowy corner. He wasn't anyone Alastor recognized, and by the look of it, no one seemed to either. He was a honey badger-type demon in a modern businessman outfit. He wore a blue blazer, a graphic T-shirt that said 'try me' over a boxing bulldog, faded blue jeans, and high-top sneakers. His shaggy hair was black and white and fell messily around his face, obscuring his eyes. His snout twitched as he smiled lopsidedly. Despite his small size and numerous judging eyes, the demon stood confidently.
"And you are?" Carmilla prompted with a raised eyebrow.
"Kaspar." Humor tucked itself into the corner of the demon's crooked smile. "I'm a little new," he explained as he held open his arms as if to invite everyone to inspect him closer.
"This meeting is for deal-makers and Overlords only," Carmilla stressed at the last word.
"Would I be here if I didn't get the memo?" Kaspar asked innocently, "I did RSVP. I know that's sort of unheard of, but I have manners."
Carmilla looked at one of her daughters. Alastor could never tell them apart, nor did he care enough to. She confirmed the little demon's name on the list. "So you are," the weapon dealer eyed the stranger.
"Great, so the fuckers one of us. Good to know," Vox snapped impatiently. "Yeah, it matters, buddy. For every sinner we lose, those fucks up there gain another soldier, and we lose more of OUR power." The annoying picture box gestured at his two companions. Neither the moth nor the doll bothered to look up from their phones.
"Are we at war with them?" Kaspar asked, head tilting in confusion. "I was under the assumption the peace talks went well. Exterminations were canceled and all that."
"They are," Alastor confirmed, "for now at least. But if the hotel doesn't produce results and Hell's population increases again, we might need to renegotiate." Alastor’s smile stretched in delight. Hell knew how to fight back now, and with the King no longer tied down. It would be an absolute blood bath should Heaven wish to resume exterminations. They might as well declare war, in Alastor’s opinion.
Another murmur ran through the crowd. Many of his fellow Overlords came to the same conclusion. Kaspar thoughtfully tapped a black claw against his snout.
"As Vox pointed out, each sinner we lose decreases our power. As our power decreases, so does our ability to protect our investments, which in turn means we cannot protect our people or Hell should the need arise," Carmilla picked up. “We need a solution—one that does not put us in conflict with the Princess or her project."
"Easy, keep our contracts away from her," someone said. Many voiced their agreement. Rosie and Alastor shared a look, knowing full well that wouldn't work.
"There's only so much of someone's free will you can subvert," Kaspar said, speaking Alastor's thoughts out loud.
"What would you know, newbie?" Zeezi growled. The massive Overlord crossed her large arms over her broad chest.
Kaspar smiled pleasantly, "Has one of your collars never worked around your agreement? A loophole, maybe?"
Zeezi glared and looked away. Many of the Deal-Makers shifted uncomfortably.
"It happens. Can't cover everything. No matter how great a deal-maker we think we are," Kaspar's laughter rang like chimes.
"Speak for yourself, fucker," Velvette snarled. Kaspar raised his paws in placating surrender.
"We could add clauses to our contracts that no one can seek redemption," someone proposed.
Rosie shot Alastor another look. They had talked about this during their tea time. Charlie would be beside herself when she found out about those little clauses.
"What happens if the princess hears about it?" Another inquired.
"What's that bitch gonna do about it? The royal family can't interfere with deal-makers and their business."
Alastor felt his eye twitch at the blatant disrespect for his business partner. Rosie grabbed his hand and brushed her thumb over his fingers in an attempt to soothe his anger.
"Only the King has. Most recently. Or are you forgetting?"
"Yeah. Because some idiots decided to fuck around and find out. He normally don't do shit!"
"Thy knowledge of our King is greatly flawed," Zestial interrupted, "it is true our King hath not been seen for nearly three centuries. The same cannot be said when I first arrived in Hell."
"Aye," a fish-looking pirate demon nodded, "Dose of us old enouf da remember when he walked the streets. Let me tell ye," he leaned forward, "tis was somethin’ da behold."
Zestial poured himself a cup of tea as he spoke, “That gent killed one of the first Overlord Councils. If mine recollection is correct, those gents had thought themselves powerful enough to rule Hell. And so he reminded them why he was King.”
The room dropped into a heavy silence.
"I caution thee in misinterpreting his absence," Zestial continued after a sip of tea, "the King is present in ways thee won't knoweth until it is too late."
"Okay, great. So he's big brother. Good to know," Vox grumbled. Someone sniggered.
"Bringing it back to the problem at hand," Carmilla called, ever the businesswoman.
"Yes. As I asked, are you really losing souls?" Kaspar reiterated. He held up his paw before anyone could answer and started the circle again. "Let me elaborate. I feel like everyone is stuck on one point and isn't seeing the bigger picture."
A number of displeased voices snarled at the little demon.
He paid no mind as he went on, "the exterminations, at least for the foreseeable future, are over. There are hundreds of thousands of deaths a day. Many of those end up in Hell. Each one of those souls is a potential contract. For every soul redeemed, we can replace with two contracts. We're not losing anyone. If anything, the hotel is the one that'll be struggling to keep up."
Alastor tilted his head thoughtfully. The little badger made sense. Too much sense if you ask him.
"And if they crack the code and open more hotels?" Someone asked.
"You're worrying about people who want to be redeemed. What about those who are happy with their life in Hell?" Kasper countered. "What about those who can't be redeemed because their sins are simply too great?"
"That doesn't change the fact that our souls will seek out the hotel for protection from us in hopes their contract will be broken!" Someone in the back row shouted, "The Devil has already set a precedent."
"Isn't that a YOU problem?" Alastor drawled, not bothering to look at where the voice came from. Rosie giggled, widening Alastor's grin. "If your collared souls are seeking our protection, you must not be a very good person to be around."
"You bitch!"
"That being said," Alastor pushed on, "breaking a contract is not one of the services we offer, nor will it ever be. Our dear Princess, although I have no idea why, wants to retain a good relationship with the Overlords of Hell. She would like to find a middle ground where you all would feel comfortable, her words not mine, releasing the souls you have in your custody so they may pursue redemption if they so wish."
"And if they fail or quit?" Carmilla asked, covering all bases of discussion.
"If they fail, they can. What's that old adage?" Alastor tapped the corner of his smile with a red-tipped claw, taking great joy in the building annoyance and twitching around him. "Ah, yes. Try, try, and try again. But if they quit, they must leave the hotel and are not allowed to rejoin our program for up to a year."
He left out should the hotel find that someone has no intention of redemption, they would also be kicked out. It was a hard decision for Charlie. She had cried the entire time, even while signing the papers and evicting all those souls after the incident with the Overlords. It was quite an eye-opener for the little darling. His colleagues didn't need to know that bit. Where would the fun be in that!
"The Princess will negotiate for a soul's release?" Rosie asked in wonder, "What does she have to offer?"
"That's between you and her, I'm afraid," Alastor sang with a little trilling trumpet for pizzazz.
"And what about the King?" Vaspa spoke for the first time. The only one in the room who had borne witness to what the Ruler of Hell was capable of. "How will he be involved in all of this?"
Alastor shrugged. "As any good parent does, he helps when asked. Or, as you’ve seen, protect. He lives at the hotel. He does not run any part of the business."
"In summary," Carmilla drew attention back to herself, "you believe we should work with the hotel. Find common ground."
"Our dear Princess would prefer it," Alastor smiled as cordially as he could. “It's certainly something for you all to chew on. If you choose not to, all we ask is that you leave the hotel, its staff, and its residents alone. And no harm will come to you in turn," Alastor grinned, allowing his power to slip out. Green symbols danced around him for less than a second before fading away.
The meeting ended soon after. Many weren't happy with the conclusion, but what were they going to do? Attack where the Devil lived? Toss a fit? That silly picture box might. He probably crashed half the pentagram while he was at it. Wouldn't it that be fun to see!
Alastor decided to join Rosie for a late lunch at their favorite burger joint and rehash the meeting. The honey badger demon was the highlight for his dear friend.
"I haven't heard of a demon like him," she said, dipping a fry into her milkshake like a heathen. Alastor scrunched his nose at the act.
"Clever little fellow, indeed," Alastor agreed. There was something familiar about the little guy he couldn't quite put his finger on.
"He seemed in favor of the Princess's hotel," Rosie pointed out, sipping on the milkshake.
"He would be among the first," Alastor huffed. He ate his fries the proper way, with a bit of mayo and ketchup mixed together.
"Do you think anyone will want to help our sweet girl?" Rosie asked. Digging into her Hamburg, some of the condiments and grease dripped onto her plate.
No. Overlords were the prime example of everything wrong with Hell: greedy, jealous, and power-hungry. And that was just the tip of the iceberg. Rosie was a rare find in Hell. She cared for her people in a way few Overlords did.
Alastor suspected it was because cannibals had a special kind of curse. When left unchecked they became ravenous bottomless pits who could only be stopped through permanent death. Before Rosie, cannibals had been seen as little more than hunting foxes. Things to be killed for sport. She changed it, built up Cannibal Town, and gave her people a chance at an afterlife. In return, the cannibals gave her absolute loyalty.
"I would be surprised," Alastor said. He passed her a napkin as a subtle hit to the mess on her cheek.
Rosie smiled. Her eyes sparkled as she leaned forward. "I'll be the first, then. Wouldn't it be something if one of mine got into Heaven?" she laughed. “A few have asked, ya know!"
Alastor was rarely surprised. Nearly a century in Hell, he had seen and done many things. A cannibal being redeemed would be the first. "That would be quite the spectacle, my dear."
"Plus, Charlie can practice with someone friendly. I won't ask her for anything big," Rosie teased, "set it up for me, would ya."
"I would delight in nothing less, my dear!" Alastor's canned audiences cheered. Rosie roared with laughter.
Alastor, ever the gentleman, escorted Rosie to the outskirts of Cannibal Town before deciding to make his way back to the hotel. He took a meandering path for a bit before ducking into an alley. This would be as good a place as any. It was a dead end. The buildings on either side had colorful graffiti. Big blocky letters with white outlines painted from the top of the building to the bottom. A pity it was all about to be ruined. There was the usual trash one would find in this type of residential alleyway. Fire escapes lined the walls. Most importantly, no cameras so Vox couldn't feed his voyeuristic tendency.
Alastor stood at the furthest part of the alley, near the dead end. Soon enough, the goons, who had done a poor job of following him since he parted ways with Rosie, arrived. They were all shapes and sizes, twenty in number. Who they belonged to didn't matter. They were there for him, regardless. "To what do I owe this little visit, boys?"
"Here to give a message," one sharky-looking fella snarled.
Alastor's grin turned feral. He responded pleasantly, "That's how these things usually go. But in my experience, the answer is never what they want."
"Keep pretending, radio freak," a rabbit with a bad case of crater face squeaked, "we know you ain't 100% since you fought the angel."
"So you fell for that little picture box lies, too," Alastor laughed as he lazily twirled his cane from one hand to the other. “That stuff really does dull the mind."
"Get'em," the snarled command came somewhere in the middle of the goon pack.
The pentagram sun was beginning to set. The alley was full of shadows, the perfect place for Alastor's blacker magic. His eyes changed to radio dials, and his power surged upward. Tentacles shot out of the pools of darkness and followed his direction like a band following a conductor. The inky black appendages trashed and stabbed at any demons they could reach while Alastor laughed merrily to an upbeat jazzy tune.
A bright light flashed suddenly. Blinding him. Alastor's mind blanked. His body froze.
Someone cheered.
It didn't come from his audio.
He rapidly blinked away the spots in his eyes. His shadow had rushed up, bringing with it a metal trash can to block an attack. A fat rodent demon’s fist dented the trash can. Alastor cursed internally as he forced his body into motion and jumped backward.
"It fucking worked," someone hollered from the rooftop.
"Don't stop! Dumbass!" Another goon yelled.
Alastor called forth shadow minions. He felt his magic groan. His shadow panicked. The tentacles rallied, whipping around to strike whatever they could reach. He commanded his shadow to find the light so he wouldn't be stun-locked again.
The rabbit demon broke free. Bouncing from the wall to the floor, off a green bin, then rocketing at Alastor, who sidestepped. Two more goons broke past the sea of his snapping tentacles and biting minions. Three opponents just for him as Alastor fell back further into the alley until he was practically at the dead end. Alastor put his back to the wall. The light flashed again, but it was in his right peripheral. Not as bad. Didn't trigger his deer instincts. He felt his shadow racing up to the roof.
A rabbit demon, a large bush demon, and some kind of metal demon cornered Alastor. "We're gonna get that bonus," the bush laughed.
Alastor's magic groaned again. His shadow pulled on him as it fought whoever was on the roof. The wound in his chest, the one he'd been nursing for the last three months, picked that moment to come alive with burning holy light. Knocking the air from his lungs. Alastor gritted his teeth against the searing heat suddenly licking at his insides. His magic screamed. It shook.
Laughter filled his ears.
It wasn't his.
The dails in his eyes spun.
The advancing demons froze.
A noise pierced the air. Starting low, then rising quickly.
The demons covered their ears. Their mouths were moving, but Alastor couldn't hear them.
His magic screamed. It cracked. It fell to pieces.
His shadow was with him. It was always with him, even before his first death. It pulled at him. At his arms. At his shoulder. 'Stop!' it begged. 'Turn. Off!' it cried.
The frequency kept climbing, past sound, into heat so hot that the bush demon burst into fire. The metal demon glowed as his edges began to melt. Blood dripped from the rabbit's mouth as he collapsed.
Higher still.
Burn it out, he thought, BURN IT OUT!
The honey badger appeared in front of him so suddenly it snapped Alastor out of his daze. His internal radio clicked off in shock. The sounds of Hell returned. The groaning of the barely alive goons floated down the alleyway.
Alastor blinked sluggishly.
Kaspar whistled, impressed as he scanned the fallen demons. "I get why they call you the Radio demon now, Al."
Everything clicked into place. "Lucifer?" Alastor’s voice was rough. Strained. His radio filter popped and hissed. His chest burned.
Kaspar's lopsided smile broadened. The snout flattened. The fur turned white skin with cherry cheeks. The hair turned white, then blond. Lucifer brushed his hair out of his face. "Nearly went nuclear there, pal." Big snake-like eyes swept over Alastor.
"What are you doing here?" The words struggled past Alastor's gritted smile. His teeth flashed as he spoke, like the light of an old radio.
"Checking on you," the Devil replied simply as if his appearance wasn’t strange enough, let alone his worry for the deer demon. He tapped his chest where Alastor's wound was. "How's that doing?"
"Fine," Alastor snarled. He ignored how his claws dug into the wall behind him.
'Hurts,' his shadow said.
Lucifer looked over Alastor's shoulder. "Ozul is more honest than you."
Alastor stared at the little King, his mouth popping open slightly. To say he felt shocked would be an understatement.
'Hurts,' Ozul repeated, pressing closer to Alastor. 'Heal?'
"He still hasn’t asked," Lucifer smiled apologetically at the shadow.
'Stubborn,' Ozul whined. Lucifer's laughter rang sweetly through the air. This exchange sounded like a familiar argument between old friends. Alastor couldn’t understand it. He couldn’t even begin to parse how these two would have met each other. It was already surprising enough that the Devil could HEAR his shadow. Perhaps it shouldn’t be, seeing how the King ruled over many dark entities. Hell, one of his monikers was the Prince of Darkness.
"Do you mind if I check it?" Lucifer gestured at Alastor, drawing the Overlord’s attention back to the present. "I just want to see how it's healing. If it's doing well, I'll leave you alone. If it's not, we'll talk."
"There's nothing to check. I have it handled, Your Majesty," Alastor snapped. He was steadfastly ignoring the fact that the wall was the only thing keeping him up, and the fire in his chest felt like a boiler.
Lucifer hummed in thought. He looked sideways at the burning bush demon and the slightly melted metal demon.
'No. Magic,' Ozul reminded Alastor.
"For now," Alastor argued. “It'll come back after some rest.”
"How about a wager then," Lucifer suggested.
Alastor's ears twitched. The betrayers. He forced them and his shaking knees still. Locked them into an upright position.
Lucifer's smile turned sly. "If you can make it home, I'll leave you alone. If you don't, you'll let me check your wound."
Alastor debated. "Just check my wound?"
Lucifer nodded with a smug smile, like he had already won the bet, and Alastor couldn’t let that stand. The hotel wasn’t too far—a few blocks at least. Plus, Alastor had been walking around with this wound for three months already, and no one had been the wiser about it.
"Deal," Alastor said confidently. Lucifer stepped back and held out a hand for him to go first.
Alastor pushed off the wall. Took one step. The world spun. Ozul cried. The ground rushed up. Lucifer caught him.
Oh! There were the muscles Angel had raved about while drunk.
Lucifer swept Alastor into his arms and carried him through a portal. Alastor's consciousness slipped away before they even passed through.
Notes:
How many of you figured out who Kasper was and caught onto our Duckie Dad's inside joke?
Give yourself a gold star! For those who didn't, no worries.
It took about 30 minutes of research to come up with the joke I knew would not really pay off. Kasper, meaning bringer of treasure, and is the name of one of the three wise men.I'm really excited to introduce Ozul to you all!
Alastor's sassy shadow is probably one of my favorites to write.FanFic Rec: Holy Suffering by AlligatorEyes is not only a beautifully written AppleRadio Holy Wound fic. It probably has some of the best explorations of Alastor's powers I've seen in a story. I definitely drew some inspiration from this series.
It's my turn with the Holy Wound!
Promise, the fallout is gonna be a trainwreck for everyone!Sneak Peek:
Alastor shoved his hands into his hair, his claws dug into his scalp, and his eyes turned into radio dials. It was so loud. Life was so loud.Did you know that maman? He thought. A hysterical laugh tore out of him. His smile was manic. Did you know how horrible and beautiful life could sound?
On earth, he took that sound away. So it stands to reason that his punishment in Hell was to hear it all the time: every whisper, laugh, cry, the hum of the lights when they turned on, and the silence of the dark.
Chapter 8: Funhouse Mirror
Summary:
Alastor shoved his hands into his hair, his claws dug into his scalp, and his eyes turned into radio dials. It was so loud. Life was so loud.
Did you know that maman? He thought. A hysterical laugh tore out of him. His smile was manic. Did you know how horrible and beautiful life could sound?
On earth, he took that sound away. So it stands to reason that his punishment in Hell was to hear it all the time: every whisper, laugh, cry, the hum of the lights when they turned on, and the silence of the dark.
Notes:
I was too excited about this chapter to wait another week to post SO I decided to share it early!
Plus! All the wonderful comments I have been getting! I wanted to treat you all as a thank you!
Knowing you're taking the time to read and leave a comment is seriously the highlight of my day!For those of you who like schedules, I am trying to post a chapter every Tuesday.
If I post two chapters a week, it's because I'm a little too excited to share the next one.As a funny side note: I went and read my fic through A03, and when I got caught up, I got so sad the next chapter wasn't out. Then I remembered I'm the author! Silly me!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Alastor woke to find Ozul staring at him from over the back of a plush green couch. Its jagged shadow mouth pulled down into a deep frown. Their bond transmitted worry and fear—great fear. And shame. Regret—for not being able to protect or help its host better. It reached down, brushing dark talons across his bangs. 'Safe,' Ozul whispered.
Alastor's eyelids felt heavy. His body ached. His mind was hazy. Last he recalled, he'd been attacked, and that badger demon had shown up.
No. That wasn't right. The badger had been Lucifer in disguise.
As if the thought had summoned him, Lucifer's head popped into view. His lips turned upward in an amused smile. "You lost the bet," he teased.
"Seems that way," Alastor sneered, "if you're quite done, I'll be on my way." He tried to force as much pleasantness into his voice as possible.
Lucifer's brows pinched in confusion. "Ally, sweetie," the Devil huffed, "I wasn't gonna touch you while you were knocked out. Didn't think you'd like that."
Alastor's ears pinned back. His eyes darted down to his rumbled clothes. True enough, nothing seemed out of place, just wrinkles from what he'd usually get from an ambush.
'Safe,' Ozul repeated. Trust pushed through their link. Alastor didn't agree.
Lucifer grinned at the shadow briefly before turning back to Alastor with an expectant look.
Alastor didn't like that either. Until now, the only ones who regularly communicated with Ozul were Rosie and Niffty, and even then, it was through sign language. His shadow was rather fickle about who it talked to, so for Lucifer to not only hear the shade but was on friendly terms with it too. Alastor very much wanted to know how and when that happened! He suspected the little King knew more about spirits and black magic than his angelic appearance suggested.
"Well?" Lucifer prompted when Alastor continued to just lay there.
"A deal’s, a deal, Devil dearest," Alastor drawled through gritted teeth. His ears refused to unpin themselves from his skull. If anything, they flattened further, nearly disappearing into his hair entirely.
Alastor sat up to begin the process of undressing which proved to be the wrong decision as the room spun then tilted. No. He was falling sideways. Listing dangerously off the couch. Ozul's panic surged through their bond as it rushed to catch him. Its warm fingers snagged his coat to prevent him from toppling off the furniture completely. All the while, Lucifer sat on an ottoman he placed next to the couch and watched the two of them bumble around with barely concealed laughter. One gloved fist curled over his mouth to hold back his chuckles.
"Are you enjoying yourself?" Alastor snapped through panted breaths once he righted himself. His chest burned like he shoved his entire hand into an open fire.
'Mean!' Ozul cried.
"Greatly," Lucifer said shamelessly. "Don't look at me like that. You don't even want my help."
"Then why bother?" Alastor snarled. His claws twisted into the cushions beneath him, and his red eyes glowed with anger. His antler started to grow slightly. Their weight caused his head to tilt as he flashed his sharp teeth.
"Because it's the right thing to do," Lucifer said simply, "helping someone hurt, that is."
"And you're all about doing the right thing," Alastor said sarcastically. "I must have missed that chapter in Sunday school."
"It comes right before the apple," Lucifer quipped.
Alastor snorted. He leaned against the couch's back and swallowed the bile rising in his throat. He wasn't keen on his lunch making a show, he rather enjoyed it the first time.
Ozul frittered about. Its talons touched his arm, then shoulders, sliding to his back before repeating the pattern. All the touching, plus the pain, created an unpleasant, oversensitive sensation in the pit of his stomach. Ozul knew it was bothering him, knew it needed to stop, but its worry was greater than Alastor's comfort.
"Calm down," Alastor snapped at the shade, "I'm fine."
"You're not," Lucifer disagreed, "and that's why it's so worried."
Alastor narrowed his eyes at Lucifer, who sat calmly watching Ozul brush an inky claw through Alastor's red hair and over his pinned ears.
"When it was commissioned, I had wondered who it was for," Lucifer's smile turned fond. “The spirit was very specific about what it wanted." Lucifer looked up at the ceiling, his eyes searching. "A gift for its favorite human to protect something it held dear. It must be able to stand against all things dark and light. A friend that will always be on their side, no matter which way their scale tips," he quoted the order.
He looked at Alastor, who stared back in utter disbelief. The shock had the Radio Demon flipping rapidly through stations. Clips of music, talk shows, and commercials chattered through the air alongside random strings of Morse code, and what sounded like weather sirens.
"The payment was high for a protector like that, but the spirit loved this person greatly and said it would pay any price," Lucifer continued as if he couldn't hear the chaotic mess of sound pouring out of the stunned demon before him. "I was quite surprised it even came to me since those kinds of sprites don't like to be associated with me. But it believed only I, the Devil," he air quoted, "could make what it needed."
Lucifer turned his gaze back to Ozul, who had now draped itself over Alastor's shoulders. Its arms looped around his neck and settled its head between his ears, which now stood up at attention. The shadow weighed almost nothing, yet it pressed down against Alastor as if it could weigh a thousand pounds. It was a comforting gesture, an effort to keep him grounded in reality when his mind wanted to run, but his body couldn't.
Lucifer leaned forward, resting his elbows on his crossed knees. He threaded his fingers together and rested his chin on top. His face turned serious as he locked their gazes. "You should be dead," he told Alastor. “No demon, not even the strongest Overlord in all of Pride, would have survived a hit like you took from Adam."
He paused to curl two fingers in the air. A dark chain manifested, leading to a thick collar around Alastor's throat and trailing off into nothing in the other direction. All of the stitches on his body flickered like neon signs. "Not even your contract holder could have saved you. And make no mistake, that I know them well, and what they are capable of." He let the binding fade away. "Ozul is all that is keeping you tethered to this plane, just as it did seven years ago."
Alastor couldn't breathe. He felt the chilly claws of fear dig into him. Ozul hugged him tighter. It tried to push warmth and safety through their link, but Alastor couldn't feel it. "You know?"
'Order,' Ozul explained frantically, 'No. Choice.'
"Not all of it," Lucifer admitted, "just the gist."
Alastor's smile felt like it was about to split his face in two. "Are you going to kill me?"
Ozul cried. The lights in the room flickered with its distress. Alastor doubled over with a groan as the shadow drew on power he didn't have. The fire in his chest raised higher, turning to molten lava. Soon, it would flow out of him, pour across his lap, and leave him hollowed out—an empty husk, a passing thought, something to be forgotten.
"Radio is fucking dead," that stupid, self-righteous gnat's voice cut through the blaring static.
Alastor growled, and an elk bellowed. "Don't look now, folks! Things are about to get dicey," an old broadcast host cheered.
It don't mean a thing, if it ain't got that swing
Doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah
Alastor's blood-red claws tore into the fabric of his jacket, through the shirt, to the bandages beneath. The music continued in the background, between the flipping stations, screaming sirens, and barking dogs.
It makes no difference
If it's sweet or hot
Just give that rhythm
Everything you've got
The last word hung in the air. Suspended. Drifting. Echoing.
"Silly," a woman's soft laugh. A laugh he tucked close to his heart. "You care too much for what others think. Be you, Mon Amour. And live," she whispered. Her hugs had always been warm and healing. "Where is that smile I love?"
Doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah
Everything you got
She ran her calloused fingers through his curly hair. "There it is! Never let them take it."
Boys were yelling. Calling him names. They hated his differences.
It don't mean a thing
Doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah
Her arms were strong, and they kept him safe when he wondered if he could keep facing the cruel world beyond her embrace. "Live, Mon Amour."
Doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah, doo-ah
Everything you got
Alastor crashed back into his body with a great gasp of air. His chest heaved with the effort. He was on his back. On the floor. Ozul had pinned his arms above his head and his legs to the floor to prevent him from thrashing. Lucifer straddled his waist and placed one black hand each at the furthest points on the long gash of his chest wound. The Devil was bent forward, almost as if in prayer, resting his forehead against the center of the wound. Alastor could hear Lucifer singing, the words in a language long forgotten, and yet, somehow, he knew was written into every soul.
The wound burned. Pulsed. Beat. Lucifer's song echoed through the room in time with it.
Alastor withered, chest arching off the ground.
The light in the wound flashed, one, twice, then winked out. A star falling. Dying.
Ozul slowly released Alastor. Worry and relief rippled through their link. An inky claw ran over the forming bruises on his wrist.
Lucifer pulled back. His hands traced over the scar left behind. His eyes bounced to the others that littered Alastor's chest. Small and big alike, but none as big as the most recent.
Alastor struggled to calm his breathing. To clear his mind. His internal radio tuning, searching through the chaos. Too much. Too much noise. He could hear it all again.
The hotel was alive. It breathed. It sang. It laughed and cried.
Passed the hotel's walls, into Pride, through the radios, he heard. The living and the dying. The joy and the sorrow.
Alastor shoved his hands into his hair, his claws dug into his scalp, and his eyes turned into radio dials. It was so loud. Life was so loud.
Did you know that maman? He thought. A hysterical laugh tore out of him. His smile was manic. Did you know how horrible and beautiful life could sound?
On earth, he took that sound away. So it stands to reason that his punishment in Hell was to hear it all the time: every whisper, laugh, cry, the hum of the lights when they turned on, and the silence of the dark.
He often searches the airwaves for a place to rest, for a break from all he can hear. But...
I should've listened, Maman! There's no rest for the wicked!
His searching frequency caught. The music was soft and welcoming. It brought with it fond memories of late nights in a speakeasy, squirreled away in a corner booth with good company and bitter booze. He fell into it. The life from the Pride Ring dropped away. The hotel dimmed to background noise, still there but little more than a whisper.
Alastor blinked. He panted. Ozul held his hands, keeping them from tearing at his head.
Lucifer's ceiling had a half-finished mural. It depicted the birth of Hell, starting with Lucifer's arrival, transitioning into the creation of the seven rings, and pausing when sinners began arriving. A section was dedicated to each ring, the colors bleeding into one another. There was no particular order of importance besides the overall timeline of events.
Alastor's breathing calmed into a normal rhythm as he studied the bright colors of the mural. The soft, warm music continued. He couldn't place it. Rare for him. He knew, due to the sick design of his rebirth in Hell, nearly all music ever created. This one had some origin in jazz, closer to blues.
He listened for a moment. Thought a little longer. Heard a bell. A chime.
Ah. It wasn't of jazz's origin. It was the other way around. It was a funny saying, a curse often spoken in his time: the Devil's music.
'Better?' Ozul asked. Alastor was shaken from head to hooves, the shock of it all rattling through him. Ozul disappeared, to his great dismay, leaving him bereft and shivering against the floor.
He rolled over onto his hands and knees with great effort. Using the couch, he struggled to his feet only to collapse onto the plush green furniture. He broke into a fit of coughs. He curled into a fetal position on his side as the room swam. His ears swivel at the sound of a door opening and closing. Soon enough, Lucifer appeared in his line of sight with Ozul draped over his shoulders.
Lucifer looked at the coffee table where a duck with a radio antenna for a hat sat. "Oh good! You found my frequency," he smiled warmly and delighted. "Thought it might help. Shut it down years ago when sinners started their whole," he swirled a finger in the air. "Ozul said you struggle sometimes with tuning everything out, so feel free to use this," he pointed at the duck, "when things get to be too much. I set it so only you have access."
"Why?" Alastor grunted, "What do you want?"
Lucifer sat down on the coffee table's edge. He sighed and shook his head. He looked at Ozul and pointed at Alastor, "You believe this guy?"
Ozul laughed as it started to pet the base of Alastor’s ears soothingly.
"It's always deals and debts with you sinners," Lucifer sighed.
"No one does anything for free in Hell," Alastor argued through chattering teeth. Lucifer snapped his fingers. A red, fuzzy, weighted blank fell over the deer demon.
"Charlie does," Lucifer countered.
"She's-" Alastor paused. There were too many ways to end the sentence. Lucifer didn’t need Alastor to wax poetic about his offspring’s kindness. The hotel alone spoke more to Charlie’s character than Alastor could ever truly put into words.
"Special?" Lucifer raised an eyebrow. His face and voice suddenly went dark. He shot forward. A strong hand wrapped around one of Alastor's antlers. He pressed the deer's head into the sofa as he snarled, "But not special enough for you to not take advantage when she was vulnerable."
The King waved his hand, dispersing Ozul with ease, leaving Alastor completely weak and alone. "For someone who thinks he's above other Overlords, you pull the same shit they do."
"I never claimed to be better, Devil Dearest," Alastor laughed breathlessly as he stared into the other’s angry gaze. "I wear what I am with pride. Something I thought you would appreciate."
Lucifer huffed and pulled away, returning to the coffee table. "You have nothing to give me, Alastor," Lucifer said plainly. “You don't own your soul. I care nothing about your schemes. Your deal is with Charlie, whether I like it or not. She's a big girl and has to learn one way or another."
"How pragmatic," Alastor snorted. He swallowed around a growing lump in his throat, and a swell of emotions built inside him. "What if I left the hotel? Clearly, you don't like me."
Lucifer shrugged dismissively. "I've lived a long life, Alastor. Demons rise and fall every day. You're nothing special."
Alastor looked away. His jaw clenched until his teeth ached. Having an unpaid debt never sat well with him. It would eat at him until he found a way to pay it back. This debt was high. Nothing short of a soul would equal it. He chewed on the inside of his cheek. His claws twisted into the weighted blanket. He could feel Lucifer watching him.
"What about Ozul?" Alastor asked, his heart clenching. Regret was already hitting him. He was foolish to bargain with something he held more precious than his own life, but it would balance the debt.
"That's fucked up," Lucifer replied. "Did that hurt you to offer? To fall that low?"
Alastor sunk in on himself. He was out of sorts. He didn't need to rush this. He could take his time and think of something better to offer, but it felt like he had none—like this was his one chance to make a deal with the Devil. He shook his head, trying to clear it of the fog that had settled in.
He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed deeply. He counted backward from ten. The little King said there was no deal to be made here, but Alastor needed to balance out the scales and follow the iron rule of Hell, nothing is free. All debts must be paid.
He looked at the ceiling like it would hold the answers. And it fucking did.
Alastor laughed in disbelief.
The Original Deal-Maker sat next to him. Watching him. Assessing him.
Alastor was a mimic. He's used all these tactics before: Wait until your target is desperate. Wait until they need something. Become what they need.
Alastor needed saving, and Ozul was desperate to protect its charge. Lucifer could save Alastor. Saving a life is a great debt, and Alastor hates being in debt. He'll want to balance the scales in any way as quickly as possible.
How simple. How fucking simple!
Everything else was just icing on the cake. A show of power. A reminder of who he was playing cards with.
Lucifer was everything Alastor wanted the Devil to be and everything he didn't.
He'd been fooled. You were right, Husker. He is a sly one. A snake in the grass. An outstretched helping hand with a knife behind his back.
"You're a mirror, Devil Dearest," Alastor said after some time had passed.
Lucifer hummed curiously from the wing-back chair he had moved to, allowing Alastor room to think without his looming presence. Between them, the Devil's music continued—a brassy beat, trilling trumpets, sliding trombones, riffing saxes, and a piano singing under it all. Nothing that should work together, yet it still made a jazzy tune regardless.
"Not quite an apt description, but close enough," Alastor continued thoughtfully. "Maybe more a fun house mirror, reflecting back what we hate. What we don't want to face. Within ourselves. About the world around us."
"Am I?" Lucifer asked. He traded out his modern businessman attire for a simple baggy T-shirt with one of his inane duck prints and sweatpants. His goat hooves were tucked under him. Tonight, his pointy tail was out, curling and unfurling over an armrest, the triangle tip tapped against the side. His blond hair was damp from a recent shower. The little water droplets slid from his wavy blond tips down the pale curve of his neck.
Just looking at him, little body swamped in his oversized clothing and surrounded by his stupid rubber ducks, you wouldn't believe this was the Devil. The little bastard had brought Alastor down to his knees and he hadn't needed to lift a finger. He'd only waited, like a good predator, for his prey to weaken and strike.
Worst of all, Alastor hadn't even realized he was being hunted—another one of Alastor's own tactics used against him.
The revelations just kept coming.
Night settled over the hotel, although there was no real night in Hell. The red of Pride only got deeper. It turned into a garnet instead of a brighter rose during the day. The Heaven planet shined as bright as ever. Teasingly, it hung above the glowing pentagram.
"Are you giving up on making a deal?" Lucifer asked, resting his head on a closed fist. For the first time since he started living at the hotel, he wasn't wearing his gloves. His fingers were chubbier than Alastor expected, with veins of gold running along them and up his arm, disappearing into his billowing sleeves at the elbow.
"Hardly," Alastor smiled smugly, "I know what it is you want," he replied confidently now that he had his wits about him. Alastor thought—and he might come off sounding certifiably insane, that is, if he had any sanity left to speak of, which is also up for debate depending on the person asked—that everything everyone has experienced thus far has been a test.
Lucifer waited through Alastor's dramatic pause with only a raised eyebrow. What a good audience! Alastor wished he had more energy to milk the moment and add some more flare. Alas, he barely had enough to keep his filter in place—his last defiant defense.
"Protect Charlie," Alastor said assuredly. It's why the beast has come out of hiding. "That's why you attended the meeting in disguise. To see who her biggest threat might be. Why you tested all her little friends. Who's next, by the way? Cherri Bomb? Niffty?" He pushed himself up on shaky arms and hung his head at an odd angle. It made him horribly dizzy, but the show must go on. "Do be gentle with the little one. She's had enough terrible men in life, no need to add another."
Lucifer broke into a warm smile, blinding in its brilliance. It truly matched his former heavenly title and left no doubt where Charlie got her sunny smile. His laughter rang full of delight as he doubled over in his merriment. The music changed to match his mood, picking up in rhythm. Lucifer wiped tears from his eyes and waved a hand, allowing Ozul to return.
Alastor dropped back against the seating, the tension in his body relaxing as Ozul draped over him. Their bond restored, he could feel the shadow's anger and fear—at Lucifer and at Alastor. It also felt betrayed. A lump formed in Alastor's throat. He tried to swallow against it.
"Testing you," Lucifer repeated, his words coated in humor. “I guess it would seem that way. I did warn you all. I am not easy to live with."
Alastor scoffed, "None of it was planned? It just happened? By accident? My dear, we are not children, nor are we fools."
Lucifer's smile turned somber. His gaze grew distant as he turned to look out the floor-to-ceiling windows. The city's lights sparkled and winked. Black smoke curled into the sky. As high up as they were, they couldn't hear the violence—only its light show of fire and big bangs dotting the horizon.
"Some of it was, and some of it wasn't," Lucifer admitted softly. “I'm rather good at improv, Al." He turned back to look at the Overlord.
Alastor's breath caught. Beautiful, the word popped into his head unprompted.
It wasn't a warm smile. Or his icey anger.
It was helplessness, desperation, fear—all the expressions Alastor loved to see on the faces of his victims.
Alastor stared in wide-eyed wonder, all too aware he was falling into a trap.
"I'm so proud of my baby girl," Lucifer continued in a whisper, but Alastor's keen hearing still picked up every word. "And I should've been there for her."
This is the Tempter, Alastor thought, this is the snake from the garden.
When they locked gazes again. Alastor knew for sure. He had tried to play the Devil's game.
"I don't know what she would've done without you."
And never stood a chance as pride paradoxically swelled in his chest.
Notes:
I've been wanting to see It Don't Mean a Thing (If It Ain't Got That Swing) in a Fic for ages.
Little history facts: the song was originally written by Duke Ellington and released in 1932. For the fic, I thought of Ella Fitzgerald and Duke Ellington's performance.Another odd bit of American history - in the 1920s Jazz and Blues used to be called the Devil's music for a number of reasons. Some I'm sure you all can guess.
I hope I was able to accomplish everything I wanted in this chapter. I really like how it turned out overall!
FanFic Recommends - Lucid Dreams of New Orleans by CyberWords is another RadioApple Fic that is not only beautifully written but also explores Lucifer's powers. I gobbled this up!
Sneak Peek:
"Emily," Charlie called from where she stood in front of a set of double white doors trimmed in gold. The closer Emily drew, the more details they could see. On either side were apple trees with golden vines. In the center were six wings, three on each door and an eye in the middle. A crown made of stars sat on top of the wings. Above, in the arch of the door, threaded between the tree branches, was a serpent with ruby-red eyes. It left no doubt who this room belonged to.Emily's heart raced. They grew up on stories warning against the Devil, and they had seen how frightening and cunning he could be during the peace talks. Now, they would be meeting him in person, with no real buffer but his daughter to stand between them. They hoped his animosity for Heaven didn't color this meeting.
Chapter 9: Field trips and Secrets
Summary:
"Emily," Charlie called from where she stood in front of a set of double white doors trimmed in gold. The closer Emily drew, the more details they could see. On either side were apple trees with golden vines. In the center were six wings, three on each door and an eye in the middle. A crown of stars sat on top of the wings and eye. Above, in the arch of the door, threaded between the tree branches and the apples made of fire opal, was a serpent with star-ruby eyes. It left no doubt who this room belonged to.
Emily's heart raced. They grew up on stories warning against the Devil, and they had seen how frightening and cunning he could be during the peace talks. Now, they would be meeting him in person, with no real buffer but his daughter to stand between them. They hoped his animosity for Heaven didn't color this meeting.
Notes:
This was chapter was a beast to write because I chose to make Emily's pronouns They/Them.
I did it as a challenge for myself, and let me tell you, writing a GenderFuild/Nonbinary character forces you to really think about your sentence structure and new ways to refer to groups of people.
I think I did an okay job this time around.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Charlie was struggling. There wasn't a better way to describe the current state of affairs at the hotel.
After the Overlords incident and flushing out those who weren't there for redemption, they were down to 10 residents. New policies were in place, a stricter, more thorough review for applicants was created, and the staff were working on improving the overall program.
Adding to her stress, Heaven was breathing down her neck. They were demanding progress, sending unhelpful criticism, and already asking for a change to the agreements signed during the peace talks. Every week, she received a message from someone, and every week, she gave the same answers. It was driving her up the wall if she was honest. Vaggie was worried and even offered to run interference, but this was Charlie's responsibility. She would handle it.
"I'm sorry," Emily sighed through the phone. Charlie could hear the seraphim's frustration. “I've gone through half our libraries and holy texts. Nothing explains the process for evaluating a soul. I'm trying to contact the archangels, but no one is answering."
"It's okay," Charlie tried to assure her friend.
"But it's not!" Emily shouted, "How are we supposed to make progress on something no one understands?"
Charlie didn't know, and that was the crux of their problem. If they could just get a clue, no matter how small, they would know what direction to move in.
"Have you tried asking your dad?" Emily asked nervously.
"Um...well," Charlie drew the last word out, "no," she said honestly. Silence met her confession. Charlie chuckled nervously. "I know," Charlie sighed, "I should but." She was afraid. She had learned so much about her dad in the last few months, but there were still depths left uncovered. She worried about his next secret and that it might be the one to finally push everyone away, once and for all. How could she explain it to Emily? "There's a lot of things about my dad I didn't know," she started with, "I didn't grow up with him, so I," she trailed off.
"Could…" Emily's voice came soft. Hesitantly, "Do you think I could ask him?"
Charlie sucked in a breath between her teeth. She looked over to a group of picture frames lining the left side of her desk. She had made it a mission after the Exterminations to get a photo with each of her friends. Her family. Next to Vaggie’s picture was the most recent one she took with her dad during the celebration of the new hotel. The two Morningstars were tangled together in a silly dance. Her dad’s smile glowed, even on film, as he twirled Charlie to the music. In the background, their friends laughed and pointed because her dad had to jump to spin Charlie around due to their height difference. They all looked so happy, blissfully ignorant of how powerful and terrifying the Devil’s wrath truly is. Now it seemed like everyone was walking on eggshells around the King of Hell, and Charlie wasn’t sure she wanted to add Emily to the group should they learn another Hell rattling secret about Lucifer.
Emily continued quickly, "he used to be an archangel. He was around when Eden was created. Maybe he knows something. And he's like, there with you, and we don't have to fill out so many forms."
Charlie giggled.
"It's a lot of paperwork," Emily finished lamely.
"I can ask if he's willing to talk to you," Charlie offered. It was easy to forget her dad had a life before Hell and that he was there for the beginning of it all—not just before Eden but even the birth of the universe itself. He was one of the first angels who hung stars in the sky. And while he never talked about it, Charlie sometimes wondered how much of Heaven did her dad help build as an angel of creation. Were there footprints of his magic left like she had come to find all over Hell during her recruitment and errand runs?
"Really! That would be great!" Charlie could feel Emily's smile through the phone.
They said their goodbyes soon after. Charlie face-planted on her desk, covered in paperwork. There were patient evaluations that needed reviews and session plans that needed to be approved—the nitty-gritty, as Alastor would put it.
There was another problem. Something was going on with her business partner. Truth be told, she had been avoiding him after learning how many souls he had under his control. She's only talked to him if it's business-related. But lately, he's seemed off. Husk says it's something to do with his shadow. It's been running a muck, playing tricks on the staff, or scaring the guests. They're not sure if Alastor has lost control of it or if Alastor is telling it to wreak havoc because he is bored now that business has slowed with the reduced guests. Whatever the case maybe, Charlie has to talk with him about it.
Just one problem after another. Charlie groaned into the unforgiving surface of the wood.
A knock on the door pulled her out of the pit her thoughts had dropped her into. She forced back her negative energy and smiled cheerfully. "Come in!"
Lucifer entered. He scanned the state of her office with a quick glance. She cringed internally. It looked as messy as she felt on the inside. Papers and folders were everywhere. She has whiteboards on every wall filled with ideas and drawings with future plans on where she wants to take her dream. "Dad," she greeted with forced cheer.
His eyes soften. Look, knowing. "Rough day," it's a statement. She must have looked more distressed than she thought.
Charlie sagged into her chair. "Just the usual," she huffed. She bit her lip. Then nervously asked, "Emily wanted to know if they could ask you some questions?"
Lucifer paused before carefully sitting in one of the chairs in front of her desk. He was dressed down again, wearing a black button-up shirt that made his pale skin and blond hair stand out more. His rosy cheeks puffed up as he blew out a breath. "About the soul stuff?"
Charlie nodded. She fiddled with the edge of a page. "They tried to reach out to some of the archangels but haven't received a response. And none of the holy texts have a clue for us to go on. They were hoping you might know something."
Lucifer looked away. Something in his eyes told her he did, but what he said out loud made her frown, "I'm not sure I'd be much help. I wasn't directly involved with creating human souls.”
"You created me," Charlie said.
"Using theories I heard of, yes," Lucifer countered, "but just like any Hell or Heaven born, you don't really have a," he paused thoughtfully, "well it's not a soul. More like a mimic of one. Human souls are different."
"Should I call Emily so you can explain it to us both?" Charlie asked, "It's what we're trying to understand, Dad. If we can figure this out, then we can help everyone."
Lucifer sighed. "I think it would be easier to show you."
"You," Charlie blinked, "you can show us?"
Lucifer nodded. "If they can come here that is? I can show you something that might help."
"When?" Charlie leaned forward, already dialing Emily.
"As soon as you want," he replied.
---
Emily couldn't get approval. Sera's overprotective nature would not allow the young seraphim to journey to Hell, too afraid of what the Devil could do to them without protection from his deviousness. Not even with the reassurance of Charlie's presence. So Emily left in secret, at night, two days after Charlie's phone call. They would owe Saint Peters a favor or two for opening a portal without the High Angel's approval. This was too important to let fear get in the way, and the first solid lead Emily had had in months since they started their investigation.
Charlie greeted Emily in the large lobby of the Hazbin Hotel. She wanted so badly to give the little angel a tour, but time was not on their side. They needed to get the meeting over with quickly before anyone, namely Sera, realized Emily was missing. Charlie led the seraphim to her dad on the last floor, where only two rooms were located. An apple-shaped studio and a broadcast station of some sort.
"That's where Alastor, our facilities manager, stays," Charlie pointed at the red door with a green outline glow, "I hope you can meet him next time."
The Skywalk offered a clear view of Pentagram City. Emily took a moment to admire the sight from so high up. The red sky turned a deeper color. The glowing sigil hung over twinkling lights and bursting rainbow fires. Smoke weaved between the twisting buildings. This far up, Emily couldn't hear the screams and booms they had heard at street level. Above it all, floated Heaven's Moon. A reminder of where Sinners were not. The chaos below was so different from Heaven’s streets, that were always blanketed in calming warmth.
"Emily," Charlie called from where she stood in front of a set of double white doors trimmed in gold. The closer Emily drew, the more details they could see. On either side were apple trees with golden vines. In the center were six wings, three on each door and an eye in the middle. A crown of stars sat on top of the wings and eye. Above, in the arch of the door, threaded between the tree branches and the apples made of fire opal, was a serpent with star-ruby eyes. It left no doubt who this room belonged to.
Emily's heart raced. They grew up on stories warning against the Devil, and they had seen how frightening and cunning he could be during the peace talks. Now, they would be meeting him in person, with no real buffer but his daughter to stand between them. They hoped his animosity for Heaven didn't color this meeting.
Charlie pushed the door open after knocking. Emily wasn't sure what they expected the Devil's living quarters to be on the other side, but they certainly didn't expect to have this many rubber ducks. The yellow squeakers were everywhere: on shelves, floors, tables, on top of book piles, tucked into every nook and cranny. The more the little Seraphim looked at them, the more Emily realized each duck had a theme or an outfit.
There were other things in the room, of course: an unmade bed pushed into a corner under a spiraling staircase, a setting area with a low table surrounded by plush-looking furniture, and a small but very stuffed library. But Emily couldn't look away from the sheer number of rubber ducks. Charlie led them to the second floor, with Emily drifting behind her in a shocked daze. The next floor had an office and workshop combination and even more rubber ducks! Piles of them! In boxes! On shelves, above the workstation.
Sitting with his back to the stairs, working with glitter, filling the room with the hum of creation magic, was the Devil. Charlie pulled Emily closer so they could see what he was making. Lo and behold ANOTHER DUCK!
Emily couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled out of their mouth. Or the next, or the several that bent them over into a fit of delighted, breathless giggles. This was who Sera feared so much! All this power, and there was a lot of it in the room, used to make colorful rubber-themed ducks.
Startled serpent eyes turned to Charlie and her laughing guest. Emily doubled over in disbelief. It took a few minutes to calm down. "I'm sorry," they gasped between breaths, "the ducks."
A look of understanding passed over Lucifer as he put the finishing touches on his recent creation, this one fashioned with six wings and a halo. "I made a few animals for Eden, but the ducks were my favorite," he said as if that explained his obsession.
"Which ones?" Emily breathed deeply. Trying their best to regain some composure, "Did you make?"
Lucifer huffed. "I believe everyone called them," he air quoted, "the weird ones. Personally I think the Platypus and Aye-aye were cute. Although I'll give them the shoebill one. Not sure what I was on when I made it sound like that." He chuckled, "might have been ticked at Michael now that I think of it, and just wanted to get on his nerves. It worked fantastically."
Emily giggled. "I've seen that one. We have a zoo in Heaven and have a few. They're kind of scary."
Lucifer gasped in mock offense, "They're sweet!"
"They eat stuff whole!"
Lucifer waved a dismissive hand, "Lots of animals do that."
Emily shook their head and smiled. The tension lining their body left their shoulders. The air felt relaxed, and friendly in a way they didn't know could exist around the Devil, considering Emily’s experiences during the peace talks. The angel had come prepared to face the cold ruler of Hell.
"Dad," Charlie smiled nervously, "Emily doesn't have a lot of time. They sort of came without telling anyone–"
Lucifer blinked his big eyes at the duo. "I just told Sera, they arrived safely here."
"What?" The duo shouted.
"Dad," Charlie groaned, "Sera doesn't want them here. She doesn't trust you."
"I'm in so much trouble!" Emily’s halo dimmed slightly at the thought of facing Sera’s anger when they returned.
Lucifer frowned at the duo as the two fritted about. "I need to keep good relations with Heaven. And Sera called me in a complete panic a moment ago. I told her I'd take care of Emily."
Emily covered their mouth, surprised. "She didn't ask you to send me back?"
"She did. But I told her that I wouldn't. It's obvious this is important enough for you to sneak out and see me. She needs to let you do your thing, or you two will only have more problems in your relationship," Lucifer explained. Then he laughed merrily, "She didn't like taking advice from me, but also, she doesn't want you to hate her so..." He shrugged.
Emily looked away. It's true that their relationship with Sera has been rocky since the reveal of the exterminations. It's only been getting worse, with Sera trying to discourage their involvement with Charlie and helping Sir Pentious acclimation to Heaven. Emily just didn't understand what Sera was so afraid of or why she didn't want this to work.
Emily's inner turmoil must have shown through as Charlie grabbed both of Emily's hands and squeezed them tight. Her eyes burned with determined fire and reassurance that the angel wasn’t alone in their fight for redemption. Emily gave her a weak smile.
"You said you could show us something about souls," Charlie brought the reason for Emily's visit to the forefront.
Lucifer cringed. He rubbed a nervous hand on the back of his neck. "Yeah," he drew the word out, "it's something I want you two to see first, and then we can decide where to go from there."
That caused the duo to frown, but before either of them could ask more questions, Lucifer was moving. He stopped at a long red curtain with gold trim. Using a tassel, he pulled the curtain aside to reveal a plain white door with a silver lever handle. He tied the tassel to a hook to prevent the curtain from sliding back and then opened the door. A bright red pentagram lit up as the door swung away from them into another workshop.
If Emily thought his last room had a lot of ducks, this one had way more. Just stepping into the room made Emily feel sad, and the sadness only increased the more they looked around. There was a couch shoved into a shadowy corner with a single sheet—not a thick blanket, a thin one with a pillow. In another corner was a table, and in each chair but one sat a duck with a party hat. On the walls, covering every available surface, were family portraits and photos.
"Dad," Charlie's voice was tinged in sorrow. "We need to talk about the ducks."
"Hey now," Lucifer said. Defensive. "I sell them."
"Where?" Charlie waved at the mountain spilling out of boxes. Piles reaching to the ceiling.
"I have shops in every ring. A few on Earth, and one or two in Heaven," Lucifer said like it was nothing.
Charlie said, "I thought you couldn't go to Earth without being summoned?"
At the same time, Emily said, "You have shops in Heaven?"
Lucifer replied breezily, "Yes, I need to be summoned. But my imps have ways of going without all the annoying red tape. There are cherubs who place bulk orders at my shops on earth. And before you ask, yes. The archangel Uriel knows about it. It's kind of his job to know things."
The two stood in the middle of the workshop baffled. Lucifer continued on through and out into the hall without further explanation about his surprising business venture. Charlie and Emily scrambled to keep up. There were so many questions to ask, and Emily was starting to understand why Charlie was having such a hard time with her dad. Just when she uncovered one mystery, five more popped up. Poor Charlie. Emily's heart went out to their dear friend.
The palace was dark and empty. Lucifer had dismissed his staff years ago. He kept it clean with a few simple spells. Lights flickered on as they passed and off as they left. Charlie told Emily stories from her childhood when something familiar popped out of the gloom. It felt like they walked for hours through the lifeless winding corridors. The decor had a mixture of circus themes and gothic architecture. Everything was outlined by white and black marble. Hundreds of rooms sat unused. There were doors that hadn't been opened in years, and some stood a jar, like someone meant to come back and never did. Furniture dotted the landscape, in pristine condition. What stood out most to Emily was the air, stuffy and stale with neglect. Bare of all life for a building that should be the thriving heart of Hell's infrastructure.
Finally, they came to a set of brown doors with runes all around them. Emily was well-versed in many forms of magic, but they had never seen these. All they could tell was that the spells kept something safe and alerted the caster if broken. Lucifer pushed one of the doors open. A crisp and clear bell rang.
The sound of a TV greeted them first. Lucifer led the two around a small entry hall into a large living space where, well, Emily guessed, surprises were just the theme of today. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could have prepared the duo for the secret the King was hiding deep in his palace. They froze with matching expressions of wide-eye, slack jaw shock.
There, on a pullout couch, surrounded by dirty dishes and trash. In a tangled mess of black wings, curled ram horns protruding from shaggy black hair, lying on his stomach in his boxers, snoring away was the First Man.
Lucifer grumbled, "I told him we were coming. I reminded him." The fallen angel stomped across the room, kicking trash into the void as he went. He spun his apple cane into existence and then slammed it down on the armrest closest to Adam's head. As the apple connected, a pulse of gold light fell over the room like a warm blanket, cleaning away the mess and the disgusting smell. Leaving behind a startled Adam, who shot up with a shout. His hooves, Emily noticed the man now had, hit the floor with a loud crack. His black wings puffed out wide, and his hands turned to black claws as he looked around wildly.
His eyes were no longer human. Where the whites once were, they were black. The iris was now orange ovals. "Fuck, Lu!" Adam cried with a weird sound under his words. Almost like a goat’s bleat or something a ram would make in distress.
"I told you we were coming," Lucifer said, voice bland and unapologetic. "I warned you yesterday and this morning."
"And I said no!" Adam snapped back. Then a look of horror fell over him as he slowly turned his head to look at Charlie and Emily who hadn't moved from the entrance. Still frozen in shock. Adam's large hairy arms scramble to cover himself. His wings snapped around shortly after. "I'm not even dressed, Lu!" He shouted.
"You used to run around naked," Lucifer's eyes danced with humor. "You used to make fun of me for wearing clothes, if I recall correctly."
Adam wiggled around the couch, keeping his front facing forward until he could rush down another hall and slam a door. A shower turned on, the sound of it finally snapping Emily out of their stun stupor to round on Lucifer. "Your Majesty," the seraphim stressed the title, "that was uncalled for."
The Devil pouted. Actually pouted at being scolded. He wandered off into the kitchen without offering an apology for his actions. Charlie followed. "Emily's right, dad." She sat down at the island separating the kitchen from the rest of the living space.
Lucifer huffed petulantly. "He's rude, and no one cares. I play a little joke, and the whole world ends."
Emily took a moment to look the room over. It had an open floor plan: the living room, dining room, and kitchen were all in one place. An island with a bartop separated the kitchen from the rest of the space. A sliding door led out to a garden, and another hall led to, Emily assumed, Adam's bedroom.
Emily joined Charlie at the island and watched Lucifer make coffee and begin work on snacks.
"That wasn't a joke," Charlie argued, "is it true he didn't want to meet us?"
Lucifer's shoulders were nearly touching his pointy ears. His lack of an answer was more than confirmation.
"Then why?" Charlie pressed.
Emily had a different line of thought. "How long has he been here?"
"I noticed his body go missing during cleanup after the battle, but none of the cannibals had touched it," he answered. "Just like with Pentious, I felt his soul change. I didn't understand it at first until I could see it." He stressed the last two words.
Charlie gasped. "His death walk?"
Emily's brows creased.
Charlie explained, "When a sinner comes into hell, Dad has to see the choices that led them here."
Emily's jaw dropped, "all of them?"
"It's one of my many punishments," he explained with a shrug.
"But," Emily said in dismay, "so many die. Every day."
"I know."
"How can you stand it?" More than that, how has he stayed sane, bearing witness to all the choices that have led countless lives to Hell?
"You're sweet, Emily," Lucifer smiled softly, "for worrying about the Devil. The guy, ya know, who introduced sin to mankind."
Emily looked down and curled their hands into their dress.
"Once I realized Adam was now a sinner," Lucifer picked the story back up, "I scooped him up from processing and brought him here. He said he wanted to get back to Heaven on his own. But honestly, he hasn't made much headway."
There was so much to take in. Emily swallowed. Afraid to give voice to their thoughts. "So Adam, fell?" If Adam could, the pinnacle of all Winners, then did that mean they all could end up like Adam?
Lucifer turned around and locked his gaze on Emily. For a few moments, only the sounds of the percolating coffee, steaming tea kettle, and the distant shower filled the air. When Lucifer spoke, each word was chosen carefully so his meaning was clear. "No. Heavenborn fall. You, me, Sera, Vaggie. We fall. We can be and are cast out through the judgment of Heaven’s Council," he paused to let his words sink in before continuing, "Adam is human. His soul is judged by different means. And this time the Powers Above All have decided his scales, that weigh his actions in life, have tipped towards me."
---
Emily sat in stunned silence, trying and failing to process Lucifer's words. The part Emily kept getting stuck on, 'the powers above all,' rolled around in their head. Did he mean God?
Had God recast judgment on Adam?
Why? For what reason? Weren't the exterminations done with Heaven's approval?
Emily couldn't understand. "Does Sera know he's here?"
Lucifer shook his head. "There was enough going on, I thought it best to keep it quiet for a little while. And Adam needed time to process."
"Who are the powers above all?" Charlie asked.
Lucifer blew out a breath. "Great question, Love." He pulled mugs from the cabinets and set them on the island. Picked the kettle from the stove as it whistled and poured it into a teapot with a fiery red design. All the while, he explained what he knew, and the duo hung onto every word they could. "It's an unbiased judgment system that weighs the choices humans make in their lives. God and I have no real say in its decision. How it judges. What weight it places on good or bad choices? It's criteria for who goes where. All a mystery."
"That's why we can't find anything," Emily whispered.
Lucifer pulled a few baked sheets of muffins and cookies from the oven. When he put them in there, neither of the duo knew. "Pretty much," Lucifer confirmed, "it's not as black and white as Heaven wishes it to be. Someone could kill and still end up at the Pearly Gates. Why?"
Emily thought for a moment. They had met someone like that before. "Killed in self-defense. For the protection of others."
Lucifer rewarded Emily with a finger gun. "Intention plays an important part, and it muddies the waters. But there are clear things that will tip your scale towards me: Committing a great sin, indulging in it with no remorse, seeking to hurt others for the sake of pain alone—a surefire ticket to Hell."
Clicking hooves alerted them to Adam's return. A towel hung around his bare neck. He had no shirt, either because he couldn't find one to fit his wings or he simply didn't want to wear one. His broad hairy chest and round gut were on full display. He thankfully had sweatpants rolled to where his legs turned to the gray and black fur of his hooves. His black wings were tucked up under his arms, just like Emily used to see him do with his golden ones in Heaven. Adam slid into a stool at the furthest end of the island from the duo, keeping two stools between him and his unwanted guests. He looked so tired and sad.
Exhaustion curled around every word he spoke, "So you brought the girls anyway." His wide shoulders slumped forward. Emily couldn't find any glimmer of pride they had seen Adam carry in Heaven. He looked and sounded defeated, hopeless even.
"I thought you could use some company, besides me," Lucifer said conversationally.
Adam glared. It was performative. Lacking heat. Going through the motions. A well-played interaction for a long-time relationship. "Always gotta be your way. Lucifer knows what's best for everyone. Here," he picked up a chocolate chip cookie and held it out to Lucifer. "Take a bite. Nothing bad will happen. Except, ya know, letting goddamn evil into the world. Getting kicked out of fucking Eden. Kids killing each other for-fucking-ever." Adam took a scornful bit out of the cookie. He chewed spitefully, mouth wide, showing off the mush in his mouth.
Lucifer watched the act play out. Amusement tucked itself into the corner of his smirk. Charlie and Emily looked between the former angels nervously. The tension in the room pulled taut, waiting for one wrong word or move to snap it. Lucifer seemed all too happy to be the one to cut the tension, "Color me the bad guy all you want, but I thought you like feisty ladies. That Lieutenant of yours sure is a spitfire. I think she would have been good friends with Eve had the two ever had a chance to meet."
The rings on Adam's ram horns started to glow with a faint white light. The black nails on his hands lengthen and split the reminder of the cookie to pieces, sending the crumbs to the counter. Adam's wings started to move but were trapped against the stool's back and the bar. The feathers could only shake with Adam's anger. His fangs flashed as he snarled, "Keep my wife's fucking name out of your filthy mouth."
The Devil's eyes glowed as he leaned all nonchalant against the counter. He rested his head on an upraised palm. A smirk grew in the face of the other man's glowing anger. "Or what? You'll strike me down," He sing-sang, "we saw how well that went last time. But if you want to have another go. I'm willing to give you a handicap." He raised his other hand and put it behind his back, "One hand behind the back. Maybe no flying." He snapped his fingers and acted like he just had the best idea ever, "I got it, no powers. Plain old fist-ta-cuffs."
Suddenly all the fight left Adam. He slumped into the stool's back. His wings drooped until the tips touched the floor. Adam's arms dropped to the bartop lifeless. "Fuck you," he said, monotone. "I fucking hate you."
Lucifer nodded. His smirk switched to something more understanding and patient. "Yes, yes. I'm the problem." He waved a careless hand. The coffee pot began to pour into a mug, followed by an ounce of cream and a single tablespoon of sugar. The mug slid across the counter to Adam, who picked it up and took a sip.
"The worst," Adam grumbled into the mug.
Lucifer huffed a quiet laugh that Emily barely heard. It sounded fond, which startled the seraphim. From all the gossip and stories Emily knew of the two men, they hated each other with a burning passion. Adam especially.
"Look," Lucifer said after a few beats of quiet, "I know you didn't want them here, but they could really use your help," the Devil pointed to the duo. Charlie gave a nervous wave, and Emily tried to project a friendly aura. "The High Council is being less than helpful to Charlie and Emily with their redemption project. Any advice you can give would be appreciated."
Adam turned so he could better face his unwanted visitors. He looked them up and down slowly, from top to bottom. He lingered on Emily the longest, his brows pulling inward. "Aren't you Sera's little angel," he pointed, "Emily?"
Emily nodded, trying their best to look as welcoming as possible.
"She actually let you out of her sight? Thought she had you on a tight leash."
Emily grimaced. "Um. I sort of snuck out. Without telling her."
Adam raised an eyebrow. He looked back at Lucifer, who was busily making the rest of their drinks. "You are a bad influence," he told the Devil. Lucifer grinned wickedly.
"No!" Emily gasped, appalled at Lucifer taking the blame for her actions. "It was my decision! He didn't know. And Sera wouldn't let me come. So I had to. This is too important to let fear get in the way," they finished firmly.
Charlie nodded. Her face set with determination. She sat up straight and looked Adam right in the eyes. "We want to understand what got Sir Pentious redeemed, so we can help more sinners get their chance at Heaven."
Adam's eyes widened. "A sinner," he started slowly, "was redeemed?"
Charlie nodded eagerly as she accepted a mug of coffee and a muffin. "You killed him during the battle. He was in the blimp you shot down."
Emily received a mug of spicy-smelling tea and a small plate of cookies. They poured some milk and sugar to sweeten it a bit. The taste was amazing. "He arrived in Heaven shortly after the battle, but we don't know why he was redeemed. And he doesn't know either. He said one moment, he saw you and your beam of light. Next, he was in front of me and Sera."
"We reviewed everything!" Charlie continued, "My program. What you said during the," she grimaced, "meeting. Emily looked through every holy text. But we didn't find anything helpful."
Emily sighed, "I've even tried to contact the archangels, but not one of them has responded."
"So we asked my dad," Charlie pointed to Lucifer, who was now leaning against a kitchen counter, sipping his own drink, comfortably removed from the conversation. "And he said he could show us something about souls and brought us to you," she pointed at Adam.
"And told us about the Powers Above All," Emily made sure to add.
"And now we know Winners can also become Sinners," Charlie included carefully, "because human souls are apparently judged differently by this system. But we still don't know how and if we can get it to reevaluate a soul without death!"
Silence followed in the wake of the duo's word vomit. Adam was still, unblinking. His mug was clenched in one hand, a piece of cookie in the other. He turned his head, almost mechanically, towards Lucifer, who was watching the group over the top of his light blue duck-print mug. Both of Adam's eyebrows had made the climb up his forehead, whether from shock or surprise, the duo couldn't tell.
Adam placed the items in his hands carefully on the island's bartop and stood. He walked a short way away. Turned around, opened his mouth, then closed it. Turned paced a few steps in a different direction, turned back to the duo, opened his mouth, closed it again. He repeated this process for several minutes. There was a lot going on behind his eyes. Hurt. Anger. Hope. Fear. Confusion. The emotions whirled around and flitted back and forth. His wings curled tight around his torso. His ram ears ticked up and down with his emotional distress.
Charlie and Emily looked at each other, unsure if they should reach out. Emily thought it was better to let Adam process first and let him come to them. Although Emily didn't have much experience with the first man, they knew through rumors that Adam had a rough personality and tended to lash out when angry. The little angel could feel a lot of anger and hurt pouring off Adam right now.
Charlie, on the other hand, was someone who acted, damn the consequences. "I know that was a lot to take in," she started softly, "I'm sorry for dropping it on you if you didn't know."
Adam whipped around. His gaze was hot, but it wasn't on them. It was on Lucifer. "I knew it," Adam laughed. It was bitter and sour. "I knew she was lying to me all this time. How would Heaven not know? It's fucking God!"
Adam rounded on the duo. His eyes were wild with anger. "Let me tell you why the archangels won't answer your calls, little seraphim. They HATE," he spat, "Sera and her stupid self-righteous Council."
Emily's breath caught.
"Ever since God fucked off to who the fuck knows where," Adam waved both arms wildly, "Heaven's ruling bodies have been a mess. The archangels do their assigned jobs, and that's fucking it. They don't care about the politics that Sera and her bitches enforce on the rest of Heaven."
Charlie stood up and waved her hands in front of her as if to clear away the anger and confusion in the room. "Wait. Wait. What do you mean no one knows where God is?"
Adam laughed. The note was high and shrill. "Just what it sounds like, Princess. One day, God just stopped talking to the highest angels. Sera, the archangels, and a couple of others. No one knows why. Happened before I arrived. And Sera has tried her damnedest to make sure no one finds out." Adam's smile turned cold and mean, "but secrets like that have a way of coming out. No one wants to admit it, because if it's spoken out loud, then it becomes true. And no one wants it to be true."
Emily wanted to cover their ears. They were frozen. Dread formed deep in the pit of their being. Adam's gaze fell on Emily. Cold. Cruel. Hateful.
"They're all afraid God's abandoned Heaven. So those in the know, have jumped on the bandwagon with Sera. Go along with whatever she says, because they still think she's got Heaven's best interest at heart. Which is what exactly?"
He paused to let anyone in the room answer. Emily couldn't get words out. Sera had given Emily so many reasons about the state of Heaven, but now many of them sounded flimsy, paranoid, unhinged at worst.
"When she was convinced Hell was uprising," Adam snarled, "she told me, that God would be pleased we were putting to rest the poor souls still tortured by the influence of darkness. Wiping their sins by the only way left available to them, a quick and permanent death. She told me," Adam stumbled back against the couch. The fire of his anger simmered down, still there but turned inward on himself. His expression twisted up with guilt and pain. "That fucking bitch told me, there was no other way to earn forgiveness."
Adam grabbed his horns. His knuckles turned white. In disgust, Adam spat out, "I fucking believed her and didn’t try to find another way. Why? How could I have forgotten God's love so easily?" He asked more to himself.
Lucifer's soft reply startled the group. "She needed a boogeyman. Lots of people like to use fear to keep order. Hell was perfect for it. Ran by the first Fallen Angel, who defied the creator. A place filled with the most dangerous souls. Plenty of things to scare with."
"Fuck," Adam snarled, "now look at me."
"We can fix it," Charlie said slowly. At Adam's blank stare, she pressed on with more confidence. Where she drew it from Emily didn't know, but would like access to it too. "We know souls can be redeemed. Adam got into Heaven once, he can do it again."
"No," Adam said, low and dispassionately, "I know why I'm here. And it's not just because I blindly followed Sera."
Emily swallowed, finally finding their voice. "Why?"
Adam did another unfriendly smile. It showed his new fangs. Emily could also tell it was performative, meant to show off but not really hurt his company. "Somewhere along the way, I started to enjoy it. They deserved it. They were in Hell, after all, and I was in Heaven. I am Adam. THE first man," he said proudly but still sounded hollowed out. Each word was part of a practiced speech, but it lacked real feeling. Just another performance. "I started it all. So it's only right I kill the little cunts fucking it. And if I have some fun along the way, who's gonna blame me? They fucked up first, I'm only righting their wrong as a good dad does."
It hurt. Emily didn't know how else to describe what they were witnessing: a broken soul, all twisted up and bleeding out with anguish. Could the redemption project help someone like this? Emily wanted to believe it was possible. They wanted to with every fiber of their being. But looking at Adam, where would they even start?
Charlie took a deep breath. Calmly, she said, "It sounds like you've done a lot of self-reflection in the three months you've been here, Adam. That's a wonderful start." She clasped her hands in front of her chest and smiled warmly. Pride shone in her eyes—not for herself, but for Adam.
Emily looked at Charlie, amazed. They had never seen her work before, only heard Sir Pentious’ stories.
Adam looked confused. Caught off guard by Charlie's reaction.
"You've hurt a lot of people AND, a lot of people have hurt you," she nodded firmly. "That's a lot to unpack by yourself, but you did, and you're still trying to."
Adam huffed a disbelieving laugh.
"So, I have only one very important question," Charlie said as she stepped in front of Adam. She grabbed his curled horns so he had to look at her. "Do you want to go back to Heaven?"
Emily held their breath. Out of the corner of their eye, they saw Lucifer move into the living room. His big eyes focused, expression blank.
Adam swallowed. Once. Twice. His eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "I don’t know," he breathed softly.
Charlie pulled away and dropped her hands to her hips. "That’s okay! Why don’t you come to my hotel? We can help you figure it out! And maybe you can help us figure out what it takes to be redeemed too."
"No one will be happy I'm there," Adam pointed out, "why do you think I struck a deal with your dad to set this place up?" He waved a hand at the room.
Charlie blinked. She looked at Lucifer, who shrugged. "Standard protection deal. I'll break the contract IF he's close to being redeemed, whatever that looks like. And Adam is allowed to protect himself. He might not be as powerful as he once was as an angel, but he still packs a punch. He might even do well as security after Alastor."
"We could always do more with that," Charlie agreed easily, "although I would rather talk it out first."
Lucifer and Adam said at the same time, "Of course you would."
Emily giggled.
The solemn air smoothed out to something calmer—not quite friendly, but easier to breathe in. Emily still felt shaken by their newfound knowledge about Heaven and Sera. How were they supposed to return home, look their sister in the face, and not feel angry? Emily frowned. They weren't used to feeling like this. Negativity wasn't their thing. Emily's purpose was to bring joy to others.
A light purple, six-wing rubber duck appeared in their line of sight, startling Emily out of their thoughts. They blinked at the duck's halo, then followed the hand holding it over to Lucifer, who was watching Emily with worry. Behind him, Charlie and Adam were talking about hotel rules the first man would have to follow during his stay. Emily returned their gaze to the duck and picked it up. They turned it over and realized it was designed to look like Emily in a rudimentary fashion.
"Duckie for your thoughts?" Lucifer said with a crooked smile.
Emily giggled, then sighed. They looked back at Adam. "I'm just thinking about Sera," Emily admitted. “How am I supposed to go home and face her? How do I face any of them after everything they've done?"
Lucifer hopped onto the stool next to Emily and hummed thoughtfully. "Do you think the judgment system I talked about weighs everything by looking at one side? Or does it look at many to cast a fair rule?"
Emily scrunched their face. "You said, intention is important. So I think they would look at as many sides as possible."
Lucifer’s eyes glowed with pride and satisfaction, but Emily wasn’t sure why. It was difficult for them to read the Devil. Feeling for his emotions felt like reaching through the mud, a slick, sticky barrier that kept directing her attention to simple things. "Adam is only one side."
"Sera won't tell me anything."
"You didn't ask her to come here."
Emily blinked at Lucifer. Their mind spun until it caught onto what he was implying. "Adam's right, you are a bad influence."
Lucifer laughed. It rang through the room, bright and warm. "Here's my last piece of advice. If you want to talk with the archangels. Don't go through official channels. Adam was telling the truth about the divide between the two. It doesn't mean they aren't present. They just don't care for the High Council's rules. So. Follow the birds."
"Which ones?" There were so many birds in Heaven that Emily wouldn't know where to start.
Lucifer only smiled. "I'm afraid your time is up. I promise Sera you'll be home before sun up. Go say your goodbyes." He stood and walked away, leaving Emily no time to question further.
Charlie came over shortly after while Emily was still reeling from the brief chat. She grabbed Emily's hands and smiled happily. "We finally have a clue. I mean, okay, we're still a little lost, but at least we know more than we did before. And that's something!"
Emily did their best to return the smile. "You're amazing, Charlie."
Charlie's smile dimmed a few watts. "Are you okay?"
"Just a lot to process," Emily replied, looking at the rubber duck.
"My dad must like you a lot if he made one just for you," Charlie said.
"Really?"
Charlie nodded, "He makes them for all his important people. Always has. I've got so many! Anytime I had a new life phase." She leaned in close, "Between you and me, my emo duck is my favorite. He plays my favorite band's song."
Emily giggled and tucked their duck into a safe spot. "I'm going to talk to Winners when I get back. Try to understand them more. See if it helps us understand the," they spun a hand in the air, "judgment system. Find a commonality or something."
"Great!" Charlie hugged Emily tight, "I'll let Sera know about Adam once he's settled in. If she asks why you didn't tell her, um..."
"Adam asked me not to," Emily supplied.
Charlie smiled. "Call me if you need anything, and you're always welcome at the hotel."
A portal opened. Heaven's large golden gates sat on the other side. Lucifer and Adam stood well out of view of the portal's opening. Emily stepped through and looked back to see Charlie give one last wave as it closed.
Emily faced the gates as they opened. The buildings sparkled as they always did. The Winners fluttered about the perfectly paved streets. Emily wondered who else knew what was under all the glitter. What darkest hide in Heaven's light? Emily took a deep breath, stretched their wings wide, and dove in.
Notes:
I merged two chapters together because I didn't want to leave a cliffhanger for the chapters about Emily because she won't be appearing as often as the others.
The rewrites and edits for this were tough, as I had to ensure that I didn't accidentally switch Emily's pronouns throughout the text.
Then I had to make sure I was using they and them at the right times so it was clear when I was using the singular vs the plural.
Honestly, I could go on a rant about writing this chapter and the mechanics of it.And look! Adam's here! I guess I'm taking his character in a different direction than I've seen lots of other stories do.
FanFic Recommendation: The Sins of Man by Azikiro is an Adam-centric series where the first man, now a sinner, finds himself twisted up in a mystery between his wife Eve, Alastor, and the Root of All Evil. The author does some interesting things with the text that frankly boggle my mind every time.
Sneak Peek:
No. No. This would not do. So Alastor decided, if Ozul could not behave, the shadow was not allowed out. Alastor would keep the mischievous, misbehaving, unreasonable thing locked up until it either changed its tune or Alastor couldn't keep it up.Alastor would die a double death before he let it out again.
"Yous ain't looking so good, Smiles," Angel declared nearly one week later.
Unfortunately, Alastor had forgotten the side effects that came with keeping Ozul locked up. "Why, I've never been fitter, my effeminate fellow," Alastor did a little jig to prove just how fit he was. A jazzy beat, a bit of tap dance, and some nice cheering. It came from his cane, but cheers were cheers.
Sleeping, that was for the weak and Alastor was anything but.
Chapter 10: The Consequence
Summary:
No. No. This would not do. So Alastor decided, if Ozul could not behave, the shadow was not allowed out. Alastor would keep the mischievous, misbehaving, unreasonable thing locked up until it either changed its tune or Alastor couldn't keep it up.
Alastor would die a double death before he let it out again.
Sleep was for the weak, and Alastor was anything but.
Notes:
Sad Face! I wanted to do some cool things with the text this time around, but that requires me to learn HTML.
Alas, I do not have the patience for such things.
I'd much rather spend my time writing!Enjoy an early post this week!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Alastor was doing a thorough inspection of the hotel from top to bottom.
That's what he would tell anyone if they asked. No one did, but that's his reason.
And for that matter, if anyone did scrounge up the courage to ask why he was walking everywhere instead of using his shadows, it was exercise!
That's right! Nothing gets the blood pumping like a good old jaunt through the lively streets of Pentagram City. Dodging the everyday shootouts. Hopping over the random knife fights. Dancing around the cracked-out, inebriated, fist-swinging denizens of Hell. Alastor enjoyed it. Truly!
What he could do without was--
"Hey Boss," Husker called, "did you need something?"
Alastor spun on his heels. Grouchy Husker stood with his arms crossed, halfway down the stairs, with a put-on expression. "Why Husker!" Alastor tilted his head, "whatever gave you that impression?"
Husker raised one unamused feathery eyebrow and pointed to the shadowy arms looped around his neck like a midnight cloak.
Alastor felt his right eye twitch. His smile tightened and he forced his ears to stay right where they were.
This is what he could do without. Ozul making a fool of itself and, by extension, him. Lately, it has been acting out. Playing tricks on the staff. Scaring the guest. Hanging off of people for affection! It's never done this before, and Alastor doesn't know what to do about it. He has tried talking sense to Ozul, but it believes Alastor owes it an apology for trying to trade it to the Devil. Even though the wretched thing was responsible for putting Alastor in debt to Lucifer for a life save. At the time, it made sense to trade the blasted shadow, but the tiny King DIDN’T take the deal! And now Alastor was still indebted with a misbehaving shadow!
"Are you two playing?" Alastor asked with a sharp smile, "it has gotten so bored being cooped up inside the hotel all the time. We don't have as many play dates as we used to." Alastor put a hand on his cheek and sighed wistfully.
Husker's face screwed up in disgust. "So it's still dicking around?"
Alastor's radio skipped a few channels before a disembodied crowd booed. "Don't be crass, Husker. We've upgraded," Alastor said, striking a pose to show off the clean and glamorous hotel lobby. “You're manners should, too." He pointed his microphone at the cat demon's chest, only to have it batted away by a thin black shadowy tentacle.
Husker's other eyebrow joined its twin on its journey through Surpriseville. The cat demon stared at the thin, waving black strand, then over to Alastor, who stood ramrod straight with narrowed red glowing eyes. Husker cleared his throat, "and there's no problem? Happening here?" He gestured between the inky tentacle and Alastor.
The buzzing static whirled into a jarring cheer track. Alastor spun his cane from one hand to the other. "Well done, my fine fellow. All that practice is paying off!"
Husker looked entirely unconvinced. "Practice?"
"Why yes!" Alastor said grandly. "After all the attacks we've had, I thought to myself, wouldn't it be swell if my shadow could protect others when in need." His head cracked at an angle, and his red eyes flashed dangerously.
Husker's jaw fell open. He stepped back from Alastor and put his paws up. His eyes were wide. Fear began to creep in. Delightful! The feline was far too perspective at times and Alastor rathered the bartender didn’t catch on to Ozul’s disobedience. So Alastor pressed on, nodding his head and placing a hand on his chest. He tried to sound humble and knew he fell flat but didn't care. That's not what this performance was about. "I am quite powerful, as you well know, my friend. But even I have my limits. So where I cannot be, my shadow can!"
Ozul, the wretched thing, was amused. If it could laugh, it would. As it were, its shadowy head peered between the cat demon's pinned-back ears and grinned. 'Liar,' it said, though only Alastor could hear it.
"So we're practicing," Alastor continued, "and I'm quite proud to say we're making great progress! Although its attacks are still weak." He shook his head disappointedly. A crowd 'awwed,' sadly. Ozul glared. Alastor spun on his heels and walked away, "But that's why we practice, dear Husker. To be stronger."
---
Every Wednesday, Charlie had decided to have a hotel-wide staff meeting to encourage friendly relations between every department. Since Alastor was the facilities manager, he was considered staff and had to attend. It was dreadful. He didn’t see why housekeeping needed to know who was a part of the therapy team or why the cooks should get to know the nurses. But Charlie strongly believed these meetings would create a united front of some kind.
While the staff spent most of the afternoon playing games and discussing the state of the redemption efforts, Alastor sat in the back of the ballroom and put his mind elsewhere. Body present, mind...oh! Splendid! There's drama in that lovely gin joint in Hades Town. He can catch up on that not-relationship the owner swears she's not in with the dancer she keeps giving the better shifts to. Sounds like one of the other girls has finally had enough and wants better pay, or she's–
"Alastor," Charlie's voice boomed from the stage, dragging his conscience back into the ballroom.
He blinked and looked up. If he could frown, this would be the moment it happened.
Ozul was onstage with Charlie. It was braiding her hair—neat, small French braids. Vaggie was trying to pull it away, but her hands kept passing through its body no matter where she grabbed. As soon as Ozul finished a row, it tied the braid off and moved on to the next. It was happy and content, pleased with its work.
Alastor sat speechless, stunned. Even his internal radio had gone quiet while he tried to process what he was seeing and feeling through his link.
"Um," Charlie laughed nervously, "could you…maybe get your shadow?"
Alastor clicked back on. "I thought you might," he struggled for words. All eyes were on him. "Enjoy a new style. You look quite good, dear."
"Thank you," Charlie said carefully, "but we're in the middle of a meeting right now."
Alastor's smile widened. He pulled on Ozul. It pushed back.
It PUSHED back.
"Yes. We are," he agreed breezily. “Timing is everything, and the thing clearly has such a poor understanding of it. I do apologize for its poor behavior."
"Isn't it your shadow?" Vaggie asked, "Don't you control it?"
If Alastor were a lesser man, he might give in to the overwhelming anger that was currently running through him. He might even sprout some profanity, but Alastor is not. He was a gentleman first. He stood up smoothly, tampered down his anger, and turned his smile pleasant. He ignored the staff as they scrambled out of his way as he approached the stage.
Ozul ignored him.
It IGNORED him.
Alastor looked at Vaggie, then Charlie. "Ladies," Alastor said in a cheerful voice, "if you'll excuse us." This close, Ozul couldn't push back on their bond as Alastor gave it a mighty yank and stuffed it back into his normal shadow. He left the ballroom and the meeting without looking back.
'Mean,' Ozul cried from its cage. It wouldn't stay there, Alastor knew that. He could only keep Ozul locked up for so long before the effort became too much. 'Out,' it demanded.
"Not until you can speak more than one word at a time," Alastor said snidely.
'Fool,' Ozul replied. It felt pleased and smug at Alastor's burning anger.
---
No. No. This would not do. So Alastor decided, if Ozul could not behave, the shadow was not allowed out. Alastor would keep the mischievous, misbehaving, unreasonable thing locked up until it either changed its tune or Alastor couldn't keep it up.
Alastor would die a double death before he let it out again.
"Ya ain't lookin’ so good, Smiles," Angel declared nearly one week later.
Unfortunately, Alastor had forgotten the side effects that came with keeping Ozul caged within his shadow. "Why, I've never been fitter, my effeminate fellow!" Alastor did a little jig to prove just how fit he was. A jazzy beat, a bit of tap dance, and some nice cheering. It came from his cane, but cheers were cheers.
Sleep was for the weak, and Alastor was anything but.
Angel looked worriedly at Husker who smartly busied himself with cleaning the bartop. Alastor also agreed the counter wasn't clean enough, even if he could see his reflection. "Ya eye bags look like deys ready ta hop a flight to Snoozeville. When's da last time ya slept?" Angel asked.
Alastor chuckled and waved a dismissive hand. "I've slept. Our dear Charlotte tells me you'll be running an acting class. Nothing too risque, I hope." He narrowed his eyes meaningfully.
Angel laughed. He lounged against the bar and crossed one long leg over the other. "Nah. Trying a new ding. Ya know, leaving my work at work."
Husker smiled. Or smiled as much as a grouchy cat can. It's small but there for those who know how to look. "Good on you, Legs," Husker said, leaning into the bartop. "What's your first lesson gonna be?"
Angel replied. Words left his mouth. Alastor saw it happen, but he didn't hear them. He was too busy pushing down on his shadow, his focus fraying. It felt like a body thumping against a door. Ozul had patience. It was the first lesson the shadow taught Alastor when he received it as a boy.
If you wait, the person you're hunting slips up. Their weakness comes out.
"Al?" Angel's voice sounded like it was coming from far away.
Alastor wasn't weak. He forced the door shut again.
"Smiles?" Alastor looked up and had to turn because Angel was on the other side of the bar behind Husker. The avian cat demon had his wings spread wide in defense. That's cute. The last time Husker tried that, Alastor broke his wings. Of course, nowadays, Charlie was a factor he had to consider, and she wouldn't be too pleased if Alastor hurt either demon.
"Something the matter?" Alastor asked, his voice light. He blinked. Around the bar, broken glass and spilled liquid were everywhere. The radio above the bar flipped through channels, and the lights flickered. His claws scraped against the bartop, wood shaving curling under his nails.
"Ya, uh, ya nearly gave us a perm," Angel laughed as he fluffed his hair. He swallowed when Alastor only stared.
Static crackled and popped through the air. Alastor could see his reflection in the cracked mirror above the bar. His smile was wild and manic. His eyes had turned to ticking radio dials. He was losing control—unacceptable.
Ozul beat against him again. The noise reflected in his surrounding static.
His dials ticking
BACK
AND
FORTH
BACK
AND
FORTH
"Weak," a voice snarled on the radio, "I ain't raise no weak boy!" The man's voice was low. Mean. Nasty. Full of hate.
Alastor's eyes flicked toward the device above the bar and growled.
Angel and Husker shrunk back into a corner.
"You gonna be weak, like your mama." The radio clicked, but no matter what station it went to, the man's malicious tone still came through. Strong and clear. "Or am I gonna need ta beat that out of ya too," the man hissed.
Ozul slammed against him.
The radio exploded.
The lights went out.
Angel screamed.
Alastor's eyes glowed in the darkness as he loomed over them.
Body wrong.
Too many joints.
Long limbs reaching over the bar.
Husker pushed Angel and him as far away from the wide maw as they could go.
"Holy shit! Holy shit!" Angel whispered. All four arms clutching onto Husk. All eight eyes stared down into the depths of Alastor's open mouth.
A whispered voice carried through the air,
HUNGRY
"Fuck!" Husk hissed.
The lights flashed.
Strobe.
When they stopped, Alastor sat in his fawn form on the counter in a daze. His shadow wrapped around him, its shadowy face pinched in worry. Alastor looked at Husker and Angel with glossy, confused eyes. "I believe I'll retire for the night." Then his shadow swallowed him, leaving behind a wrecked bar and two very frightened demons.
---
Rosie received a very frantic call from Charlie. Something was wrong with her dear friend Alastor. Husk and Angel had nearly become a midnight snack. Thankfully, his shadow had intervened, but Husk believed Alastor was on the verge of slipping into the curse no cannibal could return from once they gave into their all-consuming hunger.
Normally, Alastor had a strong handle on his hunger. He hated losing control for any reason. In fact, he had a meticulous schedule and excellent food stores to manage his urges. He was the best-maintained cannibal, second only to Rosie. Whatever had thrown off his feeding was no small thing. She worried the addition of Adam to the hotel's roster of guests might be the reason, despite what her friend said about not caring for the new sinner. She also knows just how paranoid and vindictive the deer demon can be, and Adam had gravely hurt him.
She would not put this off if it was as dire as everyone was making it out to be. Rosie arrived at the lavish establishment around noon. As soon as she crossed the threshold, a black shape burst from the floor. If it weren't for the bright red eyes and the jagged playful smile, she might have thought the hotel had new security.
"My goodness, ya sure know how ta greet a lady!" she smiled fondly and held out her hand. Ozul swept her dainty hand into smokey talons and kissed it. "Would you be a dear and let Alastor know I'm here?"
Ozul shook its head and sneered at the request.
Startled, Rosie placed a hand on her cheek. "No? Why ever not?"
Ozul signed to her, "mad at him."
Rosie blinked. Her brows creased in confusion. She's seen Alastor and Ozul argue. Usually, it's playful. Sometimes it's like two siblings fighting. But she's never known Ozul to be truly mad at Alastor. "What did he do?"
"Nothing," Alastor said. His grin was tight on his face. "It's being ridiculous and a nuisance to everyone." Alastor glared at Ozul before turning to Rosie and brightening. "My darling, to what do I owe this surprise?"
"Can't I just visit a friend?" she asked, "It's been so long since we had a good gossip sessh."
Alastor was not fooled. His eyes narrowed. His ears pulled back slightly before he caught them and forced them back forward. He didn't question her real motives. Instead, he offered his arm and guided her through the lobby. "Would you like a tour of the new hotel?"
"Oh, that would be a delight!" She agreed easily.
They had told her a bar had been destroyed. Either Alastor was avoiding the area, or they had fixed it already. The hotel was massive. It rivaled some of the better casinos in Pentagram City. There were plenty of things for the residents to do, and the programs offered sounded splendid.
"Did you ever set that meeting up with Charlie I asked for?" Rosie inquired as they viewed an empty guest room. It was spacious and had its own bathroom.
"Embarrassingly, I'm afraid it slipped my mind. We had a few things happen," Alastor's smile turned flat and wooden. His ears air-plained for a moment too long before he pulled himself back into order.
"Adam?" She asked as conversationally as she could. "How's that been since he started milling about?"
Alastor led her back down the hall to the elevator. The music switched to something more upbeat. "Charlie's been getting him settled in." He said nothing more about the new sinner.
Rosie looked at him, trying to hide her surprise and failing. "That's it? You haven't stopped in to say hello at all?"
"I've been rather busy," Alastor said. No elaboration. A deflection. "Were you expecting me to do something to mark my territory? Really, Rosie, has that ever been my style?"
"I expected you to scare him," Rosie said, "play some tricks on him. A welcome gift at the very least."
Alastor led her past Husk's bar to a small parlor room, where he left her to retrieve tea and snacks. Husk made a quick appearance while his boss was gone. At the same time, Ozul popped up and draped itself over Rosie's lap. "Well?" The old grouch huffed, "What's your take?"
"Somethings off," Rosie ran a hand over the shadow. It always felt like she was petting warm sticky air. Only the tips of her fingers sank into the black mass. "Ozul and him are fighting."
"Who?" Husk grunted.
"His shadow. Has it never told you its name?" She laughed. Not surprising, Husk didn’t know. The shadow didn’t gift her its name for the better part of two decades. Ozul can be rather fickle that way. Earning its trust was difficult, especially when it came to Alastor. The shade took its duty of protecting the deer demon extremely seriously.
"Didn't even know it could talk," Husk stared at the black thing like he was seeing it for the first time, "but it explains a whole lot of the weirdness that's been going on around here."
Rosie waved for him to add more.
"It's been acting out. We thought Al lost control of it," he explained. "The boss, of course, tried to play it all off until, I guess, the guy went too far. We didn't see his shadow for a while. Until last night when Al lost control." Husk looked down and swallowed.
"What happened?" Rosie asked gently.
Husk didn't have time to answer. The rattle of a trolly alerted them to Alastor's return. Husk beat a hasty retreat. Rosie didn't need an answer. She knew. The look on Husk's face when she asked was all she needed.
"I'm afraid we don't keep your favorite in stock. Something I'll remedy if you're to be a regular visitor, my dear friend," Alastor said brightly. She could see a small sparkle of hope in his eyes. He'll never ask. She's learned that over their many years of friendship. He'll imply it somehow, but asking outright, it's beyond his ability.
"Better stock up then," she replied. Smile big and wide to convey her eagerness to return.
Alastor, ever the good host, poured their tea and served it. He paused before drawing back. Red eyes trained on her lap. At the shadow laid lazily across it. "You spoil it too much," his smile was on, but his tone was flat.
"It's called being friendly. It takes good care of ya, so I try ta return the favor." Rosie ran her hand over the shadow again.
Alastor slipped into the seat across from her. Discontent radiated off him. He doesn't look at the pair. He kept his gaze turned out toward the open balcony. It overlooked the garden group's valiant effort to grow something. No one in the group has a green thumb but the King of Hell. His little plots are thriving with all sorts of weird and wacky plant life. Vaggie apparently wasn't happy with all his choices, mostly the ones she kept having to fight. Charlie won't let the little angel remove any of them, even the fire-breathing ones. Lucifer smartly planted the more dangerous flora further away from walking paths after a very memorable biting incident that Alastor was all too happy to regal Rosie with.
They're halfway through the pot of tea, and Rosie has finally calmed down from her laughing fit at Alastor's stories about the various garden accidents. The music playing was soft and classical, keeping the atmosphere light and friendly.
Ozul was her only warning that she had been led into a trap. The shadow's hands urgently signed, "He's angry."
Rosie kept calm. She had faced Alastor's anger many times, and this would not be the last. She looked up and right into her friend's glowing red eyes. "Why are you here, Rosie?" His voice was the calm before the storm.
"When was the last time you ate, Alastor?" She got to the point.
"Who called?" he pressed as black began to bleed into the red of his eyes and static pricked at her skin. The flyways that escaped her hairdo floated up.
Rosie could not let Alastor lead her astray. "If you haven't eaten recently, then let's turn our tea time into lunch."
Everything about Alastor was cold right now. They both knew what she was asking him to admit. "I ate last night," Alastor took too long to answer.
Ozul rose out of her lap and signed, "Lier!"
"Shut it," he growled, "I've had enough out of you."
The shadow flickered.
Alastor's eyes widened, then narrowed.
Ozul smiled wide.
The speakers in the room popped.
Static in the air crackled.
Rosie tried to reason, "Alastor. Ya need ta eat, Love."
"I'm fine," he snarled. The filter over his voice glitched and pop. Feedback squealed through the speakers.
"Liar," Ozul signed, "eat"
The shadow flickered again.
Alastor sprung to his feet.
His body growing.
Long with too many joints.
His claws sent the table and everything on top careening across the room as he sneered at the shadow.
Ozul swirled up, a black mass covering half the room.
Rosie scrambled from her chair. "Alastor, it's only trying to help."
"Help?" his voice echoed through the radio, through the speakers, and vibrated in her bones. "Is that what it called it when it put me in debt?" His laughter was popping static. "Saved! You think you saved me?"
The sound of barking dogs filled the room.
A gunshot.
"Does that sound like you saved me?" Alastor's voice hissed. His words were full of venom.
Ozul shrunk, its face twisted in pain.
It reached its claws out to Alastor, who stared down with fury.
Its talons hovered inches from Alastor's face.
Then, the shadow disappeared.
Alastor returned to his fawn form. His chest rose quickly. His eyes were wild. Rosie didn't dare approach yet. Movement in the doorway caught her eye. Husk, Angel Dust, Charlie, and Vaggie stood there, watching Alastor worriedly. Rosie turned her attention back to her friend, who had suddenly gone eerily calm.
"Alastor?" Rosie stepped carefully over the broken China.
Alastor started moving forward. The others wisely scrambled out of his way.
"Alastor, where are you going?" Rosie picked up the hems of dress to keep up.
Alastor stopped next to a guest texting on their hellphone in the lounge area. He plucked the device from the startled woman's hand and spun to face Rosie.
His smile was all wrong.
"Have I shown you this trick, Rosie dear?" He asked. Voice light and playful.
His eyes were empty.
Cold.
Unfeeling.
"Alastor, please? Whatever is going on, we can sit down and talk about it like we always do, dear." Rosie could not contain her desperation.
Alastor tilted his head, like he didn't understand. His smile widened.
"I think you'll like it. I saved it for an," he paused, "old friend."
The outline of his body began to glitch.
The reality around him warped and distorted.
A jazz tune suddenly blarred out of the cell's speakers.
If you're blue, and you don't know where to go to
Why don't you go where fashion sits?
Puttin' on the Ritz
Rosie reached out to grab Alastor, but it was too late.
Alastor flickered out of reality.
The hellphone crashed to the floor, continuing the song as everyone stared in disbelief.
The Radio Demon had just used a hellphone to escape into the airwaves.
More importantly, he was on the hunt.
Notes:
Did you know cellphone signals worked on radio waves?
They do! Somewhat. I might have simplified it for the shock value.A little history: Irving Berlin wrote Puttin' on the Ritz, but the most well-known versions were sung by Harry Richman or Fred Astaire in the 1930s. The song was also featured in Young Frankenstein with Gene Wilder. For the fanfic, I thought of Taco's music video, which is the one I'm most familiar with.
FanFic Rec - Bedtime Rituals to Try out Before the Next Angelic War by Budinca is one of my fav COMPLETED RadioApple slow burn. Luci suffers from insomnia. Alastor struggles with his emotions and growing attraction. All set in a hotel that has its own quirky personality. If you haven't read this one yet, highly recommend you do.
I cannot wait for the next chapter! OH! It is probably one of my favorites!
Sneak Peek:
The problem with owning a multimillion souls company was you had to run the fucking thing. Which, of course, led to unpleasant things like meetings. Lots of them. This was Hell, after all, and meetings were the pinnacle.
Chapter 11: Old Friend
Summary:
The problem with owning a multimillion souls company was you had to run the fucking thing. Which, of course, led to unpleasant things like meetings. Lots of them. This was Hell, after all, and meetings were the pinnacle.
Notes:
This was one of my favorite chapters to write!
I love writing action and was super excited to flex during this one.Important Note:
My Laptop is broken, and I need to send it off for repairs.
I won't be able to post until I get it back.
I hope to get it returned soon.For now, enjoy! And I'll see you all soon!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The problem with owning a multimillion souls company was you had to run the fucking thing. Which, of course, led to unpleasant things like meetings. Lots of them. This was Hell, after all, and meetings were the pinnacle.
Vox did his best to limit them. If it could be an email. A text. An infographic. A fucking water cooler conversation- he had installed several throughout the building just for the purpose of gossip and hanging out. The point was, Vox did everything in his power to eliminate needless meetings.
Unless it was about the company's wellbeing. Quarterly reviews were a necessary evil, and he refused to suffer alone. So he dragged his two business partners and those he had designated as head of staff into a conference room for a few hours to go over their shit and make sure everything was Gucci, as Velvette put it.
Vox scanned the room. Velvette sat on his right, scrolling through her various feeds. Valentino lounged with his legs on the conference table two chairs down, squinting at whatever video he was watching- this time quietly, after the long chat they had about proper boardroom etiquette. The rest of their head staff were scattered about with their computers and reports. As a rule, everyone's phones, sans the CEOs, were placed face down on the table to ensure full attention and a speedy meeting.
Vox forced back a groan and plastered on his best smile. "Who wants to kick this off?" No one ever did, but he asked every time anyway. Vainly hoping someone would put the capital P in the Pride Ring and own the good work they did here in VoxTek.
Val groaned, "Voxxy, why bother with this?" He waved at the room. "Business is booming, Baby. Sinners are eating out of our palms. We got nothing to worry about."
Someone snorted from the other end of the table. "Leave it to the moth to be short-sighted." That guy, Vox decided, was getting a beating and then a raise. Being ballsy got rewards at VoxTek in equal measure.
"Who said that?" Val snarled, "I bring in the bucks, hunz."
Vel for once, agreed with the staff. "Only you ain't. Your viewership is down. And it's been declinin’ for months now." Vox wasn't even aware she was keeping taps on Val's part of the business. She hated Val's work but understood that sex sales. It was a big part of how they grew their company so quickly. "People are bored with the shit you been puttin’ out."
"Bored!" Val hissed in disbelief. "With sex?"
Vel rolled her eyes. "With the content, you git!"
Val waved a dismissive hand, "who watches porn for the content?"
Vox ignored the few people who raised their hands. This was not a debate. "She's right, Val. There have been some surveys done--"
"By who?" Val hollered, indignant. He surged to his feet and pressed his top two hands to his chest. "About my work?"
Vox kept his voice calm as he continued. "Community surveys--"
"You're gonna listen to them," Val pointed his lower hands at the large windows overlooking the city. "You promised you wouldn't interfere with my business!"
"As long as it didn't fuck with OUR bottom line," Vel snapped back, jumping to her feet and slamming her hands on the table. "And it fucking is. The people have spoken. Your. Shit. Is. BORING! They're tired of your torture porn. We're in Hell! We can get it for free just looking out our goddamn fucking windows!" The doll demon thrust a hand outward. "Find a new act or step the fuck aside!"
Vox's eyes widened as he put his hands up. "Woah now, Vel. There's a reasonable solution here."
A laugh. An all too familiar dark laugh rolled around the conference room. "Trouble in paradise, old pal!"
No fucking way. That was impossible! Vox had too many measures in place to make sure HE could never get in. He had even gone so far as to find magic users to ward V tower against black magic. Vox stood slowly, eyes searching the shadows for any movement.
All of the hellphones in the room went off with an alert.
Vel checked her phone and turned it towards Vox. There wasn't any notification.
The alarms grew louder—the screens on the phone glitched.
The pitch grew sharper. Building on top of one another into a single ear bleeding tone.
Vel's eyes widened. She pointed behind Vox. He turned to see cracks forming on the glass of the aquarium wall that went from floor to ceiling. The electrical sharks he imported from Envy swam in hungry circles. Their electrical, neon blue glow lit up the tank as they chased their mid-day snack. He had just enough time to turn back and jump across the table to sweep Velvette into a protective hold as the glass shattered.
Water slammed into him. He curled and clung as tightly as he could to Velvette. They whirled top over bottom. Objects struck his body until the water drained out and left everyone pressed against the other end of the room. The doors had been blown open from the force of the wave. The windows overlooking their territory were cracked. The sharks and fishes flopped about, caught halfway between their broken enclosure and the conference room.
"Are you okay?" Vox's voice sputtered. Water trickled out of his ports. He was happy he had waterproofed himself years ago. Fight one water-wielding demon, and you learn a thing or two.
Velvette stared over his shoulder in wide-eyed disbelief.
Vox turned. Standing in the middle of the room. Under the busted, flickering, fluorescent lights. Lazily tossing a phone in his red-tipped claws stood Alastor. His smile was crooked, full of cruel delight. His ears perked forward. His feet were together, and his posture was what he always called proper. The deer demon’s eyes caught Vox's attention the most. The lights were on, but no one was home. They held no warmth. No joy. No excitement. The empty red glow dragged lazily across Vox’s sodden form until their gazes locked. "Hello, old friend," Alastor sounded pleasantly cheerful. He always did. Vox learned a long time ago it was a facade. Something used to lure his prey in. "I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd," the hellphone flipped up and came down, "drop in!"
Static charge the air. Some jazz tune played from the deer demon, but too quiet for Vox to discern. The loud bang of a gun jolted Vox. Velvette jerked in his arms. Alastor bent at an odd, inhuman angle. A panel in the ceiling exploded into bits. The gray pieces rained onto the floor. "You pendjo!" Val shouted. Val shoved chairs off him. His golden gun was drawn and aimed. He was soaked through, wings weighted down with water. His eyes narrowed with pure, unfiltered hate. He fired three more rapid shots.
Alastor’s form glitched. If Vox had to describe it, the edges of the deer demon's body warped and faded. Reality broke around him as he moved from where he stood to where the Moth was. Popping in and out of existence. The jazz song seemed to trail out in front of him. Not shadow traveling, as Vox was used to seeing the deer do. This was different. Alastor’s cane twirled in a blur as he appeared before Val. "Could you hold this for me?" Alastor asked politely. He spun on his heels. Drove the end of his cane into Val's abdomen with such force it lifted the moth demon off his feet and shot him across the room. Val was pinned against the wall like a bug on display. With one hand behind his back, Alastor placed his other hand on his chin and tilted his head. He hummed as if he were admiring a piece of art. "A bit drab for my taste." He looked over at Vox, "don't you think?"
Val coughed. Blood and pink saliva dripped down his chin. He pulled out his other gun with his upper right hand. Silver flashing in the rosy sun. His lower hands wrapped around the thin shaft of the cane protruding from his midsection. "Think this is enough?" Val taunted.
"Yes," Alastor laughed. The eye on the microphone opened. A low, base note sounded through the air. Vox felt the soft vibrations from where he knelt across the room. He imagined the feeling was even harsher attached to the noise’s source. The moth let out pained choking sounds. "Come now! A little birdy told me," Alastor's voice turned malicious, "you were into this kind of thing."
"Leave him alone, you old-timey cunt," Vel's angry snarl knocked Vox out of his shocked dazed. She pulled away and stood. Vox followed, trying to keep himself in front of the doll demon as much as possible while still allowing her to see the enemy.
"My, young lady!" Alastor gasped in mock surprise. "Your manners are quite atrocious." He turned to face them.
What was left of the staff fled the room, scrambling through the broken double doors on shaky legs. This left the two remaining CEOs to face the intruder. No, Vox mentally shook the thought from his head, this was a fight between Overlords. In terms of power, Vox and Velvette should be stronger. Individually and combined. The Vees had grown much during the Radio Demon’s seven years of absence. Alastor might have gotten the jump on them, but they could still turn this around.
Yet Vox couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. He had seen Alastor fight hundreds of times. Bared witness to his power as he toppled one Overlord after another. He had been cruel and calculative, but there had been a playfulness to it—a joy in the hunt—a show to broadcast.
None of that was here.
A cold, sinking feeling pulled at Vox’s gut.
Alastor strolled around the broken bits of the table. Weaved between the knocked-over chairs and dying aquatic life. His smile could be called wolfish. His eyes were hungry.
Velvette must've sensed something was different, too, instead of being her usual mouthy self. She was focused. Head turning to keep Alastor in her sight. Her shoulders tensed, and her fingers twitched, ready at any moment to call forth her powers.
The deer demon froze directly in front of them at the room's far end. Back straight. Arms neatly tucked behind him. His ears tilted forward. Alert. Static built in the air alongside the choking tension. It was prickling up the back of Vox's neck and creating sparks between his antennas, catching in the flyaways of Velvette's drying auburn hair.
The standoff exploded into sound and motion. A sound wave hit Vox first before the jamming signal. He pushed back against it. Tried to lock Alastor out. He strained with effort to find a pattern in the switching channels shutting him out of his body. If he could just catch one, he thought desperately. Distantly, he could hear Velvette cursing and shouting. Alastor's crazed laughter and music filtered through the gaps of his struggling consciousness.
Finally, after what felt like hours but were only seconds, Vox broke through and shut Alastor out of his signal. His vision cleared in time to see Alastor twist under Velvette's attack, thin, sharp threads able to slice through bone and steel. The deer demon spun on his hands, his legs kicked backward and caught Velvette in her chest. She crashed, head over feet across the floor.
Another base sound wave ripped through the room. Slamming into everything and knocking Vox back with its forces. A weather siren rang high. Alastor was on Velvette, dragging her up by the neck.
Vox pooled electricity into his hands as he got to one knee.
"Now, now, friend," Alastor clicked his tongue without looking at the Television Overlord. "I taught you better than that." He tapped the toe of his right foot, making the water still spread across the floor ripple. "We wouldn't want to hurt your dear partners by accident."
"Alastor, this is between me and you," Vox snarled. His screen flickered with his anger and rising panic. His thoughts sped rapidly as he searched for a way to turn the fight around.
Alastor chuckled. The sound was low and cold. "Still overestimating your value."
"Then why are you here?" Vox shouted. The playing field was against him. If he tried to hit Alastor with an electric attack, he’d hurt Velvette, too. He could use his wires to grab the deer, but Alastor would counter with his creepy tentacles. He could drag them both into the airwaves, but not only did Alastor have more experience controlling them, the Radio Demon’s body wouldn’t be defenseless. His shadow buddy would protect him and could use half of Alastor’s black magic. And these fucking sound waves were making it difficult for Vox to keep his feet under him and splintering his focus to keep out the jamming signals buried inside them.
The sound waves grew louder and quicker. The pluses hit harder. The debris in the room rattled and skittered with the growing force. The water rippled and jumped as the floor itself began to vibrate. Static crawled along the walls. Tiny sparks flickered from the broken lights and died like fallen stars against the ground. Vox has never known Alastor to fight like this. He didn’t even know the deer demon could wield sound as a weapon despite his moniker. The Radio Demon has always preferred to use his magic.
"Why! I wanted to show you something!" Alastor declared joyously. His voice still somehow reached Vox between the cacophony of siren horns and fast, jazzy music. "I know you'll appreciate it most," he turned, pulling Velvette around. Her feet dragged through the water as she dug her claws into his arms. The deer didn’t even flinch. "You've ALWAYS been my biggest fan!"
The lights and sound went out all at once, leaving a void of deafening silence.
The static built too quickly for Vox to stop it. Its force struck before the sound wave. He felt his feet leave the ground. His back hit something solid. His screen cracked. When he could see, his left was fractured images. Anything glass was shattered. The windows were blown out, letting the humid winds of Hell twist through the devastated room.
"Velvette," Valentino screamed. His arms reached uselessly. Body still pinned to the wall.
Vox dizzily turned his head. His breath caught in his bruised lungs.
Velvette lay inches from the window's ledge. She groaned and managed to roll away from the windows before sitting up with shaky arms. A noise drew her attention back into the depths of the darkened room. A scream died in her throat as she froze in terror.
Hell didn't do horror movies. There wasn't any point when the populace was primarily desensitized to violence, and the majority of sinners looked like things that went bump in the night. Eventually, something would come along to remind everyone that genuine fear still existed.
Vox had forgotten the Radio Demon was one of those beings. Alastor was good at that. He lowered your guard by being a silly guy with canned laughter. A charismatic showman with a love for old tunes. An old-timey prude. He'd draw you in with it all until it was too late, and you couldn't escape once his trap snapped closed. Add on Alastor’s recent defeat at the hands of the leader of the Exorcist Army, and Vox, like so many others, had been convinced the Radio Demon was washed up.
The Radio Demon's horns twisted wickedly from between his large twitching ears, their points sharp and knocking against the broken light fixtures. His limbs were long with too many joints, yet they still managed to move him forward. Clicking and clacking. His stomach caved in. His chest was broad and heaving with each stinking and puffing breath. His long claws cut gashes into the floor. His hooves clunk and thumped. The true horror, what would haunt your nightmare should you manage to get away, was his face. Balanced on a neck with too many angles to make sense, needlepoint teeth set in a gaping maw, and eyes as black as the darkest pits in Hell.
Vox willed his body to move, to forget his fear, to push past it and the pain in his frame.
"Hungry," a pained voice seemed to come from every corner of the room. It didn’t sound like Alastor. It was too low. Too growling. Too animalistic.
Alastor reached long, slender claws towards the frozen doll demon. Dark, red, viscous drool dripped from his open mouth, and steam swirled into the air where it met water.
"Run!" Vox and Valentino screamed, but Velvette continued to sit, petrified before the starving creature.
Vox pooled electricity into his hands. Even if it hurt Vel, it was better than being eaten. You don't come back if the Radio Demon eats you.
Blue light arched from his fingertips and struck the walking horror show on its hulking side. Alastor screeched and turned faster than a creature of his size should. He charged toward Vox. Mouth wide. The TV demon raised his arms to cover his head. His body was too wrecked to escape.
A sudden bright golden light lit up the room. When Vox peered over his arms, Alastor had been blasted away from him. The deer’s bloated form crumpled in a dark corner among broken wood and twisted metal.
"Woah! What the fuck?" A voice Vox recognized only because he had watched the video of Alastor getting his ass handed to him thousands of times drew his attention back to the window. Adam landed in the room. Well, the sinner looked like Adam if the guy had a complete color palette change. He set Rosie down with his other arm. The princess of Hell arrived next in the arms of her angel girlfriend.
"Is that?" The Princess asked. Her eyes were large with worry as she took in Alastor.
Rosie's face was grim. She spared Vox a glance but kept her focus on the Radio Demon.
"Hungry!" the cry was filled with anguish this time. Vox finally realized it came through the hellphones littered around the room. Their screens flickered with the voice.
"I know, dear," Rosie said, "but you can't be doing this. I need you ta come back, Alastor."
"Are you fucking kidding?" Val snarled, "just kill him."
"He's too far gone," Vox agreed. All the pieces finally slid into place: Alastor’s odd behavior since he arrived. The fact he hadn’t started a broadcast the moment they began fighting. It wasn’t the Radio Demon or the Overlord Slayer the Vees were fighting. It was a cannibal in the midst of being overtaken by their curse.
"No, it's not," Rosie argued, "he ain't eaten yet. We just need to calm him down."
"That's not how it works!" Vox snapped. "Don't hold onto false hope. You'd be doing a kindness to kill him now before this gets worse."
"Alastor's different!" Rosie’s voice wobbled with the force of her emotions. "He's strong."
The demon in question groaned. Everyone tensed. Alastor turned those empty pits on the group. The bloated body pushed up on long arms. The horns knocked against the ceiling, sending more tiles to the floor. "Rosie?" Alastor’s soft voice drifted through the hellphones. He sounded confused. In pain.
Rosie smiled and moved forward. "That's right."
Alastor tilted his head. "Rosie." The pitch changed. Happy. Relieved. A hand reached out.
"Let's get you home and cleaned up," Rosie smiled brightly.
"I don't like this," Vox stood. Dread filled his stomach. "Rosie. Stop. Something’s not right. He's not changing back."
Rosie kept walking. Her steps quickened. "It's okay," she reassured. She was barely a foot away. Her hand raised to take Alastor’s reaching claw.
Time can slow down. Vox knew this. It happened many times during the fight, but this moment. It stood out in stark contrast to everything else. He didn't know why. Maybe he wanted to believe, like Rosie, that Alastor wouldn’t give in to the cannibal curse. Maybe it was the shock of Alastor attacking a friend he used to swear to Vox up and down he would never hurt, even if Hell imploded. Whatever the reason, every detail burned itself into Vox's hard drive.
Alastor, in all his gruesome glory, lunged, quick as a viper. His jaws were wide. Rosie, still babbling about everything they'd do once they were back home, continued walking toward her friend. Anybody that could move rushed forward, already knowing they were too late but still desperate to try. And the shadows moved.
They burst out of every corner, wrapping thick, inky cords around every inch of Alastor’s lanky and stretched-out body. They snapped around his jaw, keeping it open and preventing him from closing around Rosie, who stood frozen between Alastor’s needlepoint teeth. An enraged scream and an elk’s cry ripped through the air as the flashing hellphones littering the room were seized by inky tentacles and crushed, one right after the other.
The Princess reached Rosie first and yanked her away violently so they both fell backward. They all watched as the shadows oozed over the trapped demon. Swallowed Alastor and then pulled him down into the darkness until there was nothing but silence and bits of plastic left behind.
"Rosie?" The Princess turned the Cannibal Overlord to look at her. The woman's face was ashen by her shock. "Rosie, he didn't mean to hurt you."
"I know, dear," Rosie replied faintly as she reached with shaky hands to pick up her large hat that had fallen off during their fall. She adjusted the brim until it sat right and then stood up smoothly. Any evidence of what happened was gone from her face. Her pleasant smile was back in place as she turned to the group.
"Now we got a new problem," Adam huffed. He pointed at the empty corner with a frustrated tilt to his lips. "We don't know where he went."
"That was his shadow," Vox said, "it'll take him somewhere safe."
The former angel glared at him suspiciously.
"Vox is right. The two used to be good friends," Rosie confirmed. She turned her pleasant smile on the TV Overlord. "Guess you still know a thing or two about him." There was a heavy connotation to her words. One that Vox didn’t much care for.
He schooled his face into indifference and turned away from the Cannibal Overlord. He went to Velvette, who had recovered some and was trying to free Valentino. He could see she was still shaking. A tremble in her arms and hands as she struggled to pull the cane from their partner. Vox pushed her aside and, with some effort, yanked the cane out. The staff disappeared in a flash of red smoke as soon as it came loose. Vel caught the moth demon before he hit the floor.
Their unwelcome saviors stepped up to the windows' ledges. The groups looked at each other. Vox pulled Val into his arms, being careful of his wings. “I am in your debt for a life saved, Rosie,” the TV Overlord sighed. “I’ll be in contact about it.”
“Your debt is to the Princess,” Rosie replied quickly. “Adam is one of her employees. Security for her hotel. Without him, we wouldn’t have gotten here in time.”
Vox struggled to keep his expression neutral. That wasn’t good news. Life debts wore a high cost, but the Princess was also naive. Vox shelved the thought for now and turned on his heels. His top priority was to get Val medical attention. Then, see to the tower’s damages. “I’ll be in contact, Princess.”
He didn’t stay to see if they left or confirm if the Princess heard him. His partners came first. Vel was practically glued to his side. Val had passed out in his arms. Through his connection with his security system, he could feel the damage done to V Tower. Alastor had thoroughly wrecked them. It would only be a matter of time before news got out that the Radio Demon had beaten the Vees in their own territory.
Part of Vox wanted the bastard to fall to the cannibal curse, if only as a way to save face. The other half wanted Alastor to survive, not because Vox still cared for the man. No, that part of him had just died. Burnt away when the cannibal deer tried to EAT the Vees. Vox wanted revenge. Plain and simple. And he would have it. One way or another.
His old friend will suffer.
Notes:
Poor Rosie! She just wants to help her dear friend!
I pulled some inspiration from Siren Head for this chapter. I always thought it was an interesting creature, and I loved all the games and stories that popped up after it was introduced to the internet.
Alastor, being the Radio Demon, I thought he would take that concept and multiply it by 100.Just a reminder - I won't have my laptop for a while since it is being repaired. Hopefully, it won't take too long, and I can post again.
Sneak Peek:
The King's blase attitude to the situation had finally snapped the last of Rosie's patience. He was part of the reason for this problem. However, directly or indirectly, one wanted to count his involvement. He should be taking responsibility, but as always, he sought to remain uninvolved just as he has done with his rule over his kingdom. Rosie refused to let it happen.Her eyes settled on the King, only to find him staring back. Red serpentine eyes trained unblinkingly at her. With a deep, unsettling feeling, she realized that he was waiting for her to either do or say something. She recognized a challenge when she saw one, and well, Rosie had never been one to turn those down.
Chapter 12: The Golden Rule
Summary:
The King's blase attitude to the situation had finally snapped the last of Rosie's patience. He was part of the reason for this problem. However, directly or indirectly, one wanted to count his involvement. He should be taking responsibility, but as always, he sought to remain uninvolved just as he had done with his rule over his kingdom. Rosie refused to let it happen.
Her gaze settled on the King, only to find him staring back. Red serpentine eyes trained unblinkingly at her. With a deep, unsettling feeling, she realized he was waiting for her to either do or say something. She recognized a challenge when she saw one, and well as an Overlord, Rosie had never been one to turn those down.
Notes:
I meant to post this last week since I still hadn't sent my computer off for repairs.
But the damn thing fought me every step of the way.Better late than never.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
To be an Overlord as long as Rosie. You need not only power, carefully picked alliances, and ownership over an obscene number of souls. You also needed some wit and a few tricks, and Rosie had many up her sleeve. She had never come across a problem she couldn't talk or brute force her way through. So, sitting outside of her dear friend Alastor's room, listening to him in the throes of the cannibal curse, and being unable to help was unacceptable.
She couldn't get in there. Not because she didn't want to. There was some kind of magic barrier around the room. Rosie knew her way around some magic. Alastor had taught her some voodoo basics throughout the years, and her black magic knowledge was nothing to snuff at either. Yet, she couldn’t break through. Not even the deer’s own souls could. Both Husk and Niffty had tried. No matter how much anyone pushed or pulled, the door would unlock but not open. So they sat, forced to listen to the painful cries of the creature Alastor had to turn into.
A few hours had passed since returning to the hotel. The Pride sun was nearing its completion across the sky, edging its way down behind the jagged mountains surrounding Pentagram City. Without intervention of some kind, Alastor would continue to suffer. There were so few options available. Vox had been right. Most cannibals did not return once they had given in to the curse, but Rosie refused to give up hope. Alastor was strong. More than that, he was full of surprises and pulled off what others claimed impossible.
"Rosie," Charlie's voice was hesitant. “What you said to Vox. Do you think Al can come back?" The Princess grew up in Hell. No doubt she’s seen the destruction an out-of-control cannibal could cause before they were inevitably brought down.
Rosie pulled her gaze from the dark wood that made up Alastor's door. She hadn't looked away from it since their last attempt to get through. The group decided to wait for the King's return as he was out on business in the Greed Ring when Charlie tried to call him and received a text back instead. If anyone could help Rosie’s dear friend, surely it would be the most powerful being in Hell.
Rosie took in the stunning image of the sweet, worried Princess on the cushions lining the skywalk windows. The setting pentagram sun gave Charlie a fiery orange halo. Rosie could see the potential that captivated her friend. The power brimming in the darling girl, if she could only learn to master it. Supposedly, her father was finally stepping up and teaching the Princess to use her magic and other abilities she hadn’t known she had. It had been a rather exciting tea conversation with the two Overlords discussing how to use those abilities to improve Hell.
Rosie tugged herself back into the present and ran a hand through Niffty's red hair. Once it became clear Alastor was beyond their reach, the little demon had tucked herself into Rosie's side. She hadn’t said a single word in hours. Her single eye was glued to the door. "Ya know, every cannibal has a brush with the curse one way or another," The Cannibal Overlord explained, "sometimes we can pull ourselves out before we give in completely."
Rosie's smile turned fond, "Alastor. Now, he never likes losing control. So, he set himself on a schedule and is usually pretty good at sticking to it. But he ain't perfect. No matter how much he don't like to admit it. Slip-up happens, Sweetie." Charlie smiled wetly and giggled. Husk grunted in agreement. The old grump had called Rosie on more than one occasion when his Boss got too close to that dark edge. Rosie went on, "When the dear gets stressed, sometimes he forgets ta eat and sleep. The silly deer," she flipped a hand and laughed. "Terrible company ta be around. Believe me! I don't know where he stores all that anger in his skinny body, but woooh! Darling!" Rosie shook her head, a fond smile still in place and a hand on her cheek. "He's a big old grouch!"
Rosie sighed, her smile dimming. "Normally, I'd just calm him down, get some food in him, and the whole thing would blow over. Crisis averted." Rosie frowned thoughtfully. “But this time, I'm not sure what stressed him out. I thought it was Adam joining your little hotel, but I'm not so sure anymore."
The group fell into a thoughtful silence as the overhead lights in the long hall flickered on. Husk broke it first, "You said he's been fighting with his shadow."
Rosie nodded. The scene the two caused in the parlor returned to her. She had never seen Alastor and Ozul fight like that before. Argue. Sure. Sometimes like playful siblings. Poking at each other's buttons just for fun.
"Is that why it's been acting out?" Vaggie, Charlie's lovely girlfriend, asked. She stood guard over the Princess, her angelic spear out and rested against her shoulder. Rosie didn’t approve but understood the concept of being ready for danger.
"Apparently," Husk grunted. He stood closest to the door, leaning against the wall with his arms and ankles crossed over each other. His wings were pulled tight against his back. His feathered tail twitched—the only sign of his worry over the situation.
"He tried to sell Ozul," Niffty's small, monotone voice informed the group.
"Who?" The spider demon asked. He must be Angle Dust, the flirtatious porn star and contractor to that disgusting Valentino Alastor told Rosie about it. He leaned against Husk. His top pair of arms crossed while his bottom two scrolled through his hellphone. He was keeping up with the fallout of Alastor’s attack on the Vees. It was Pride Ring’s latest hot gossip, with pictures of the destroyed V Tower circling on social media uninterrupted with Velveet still licking her wounds with her co-CEOs. Every single window was blown out, as well as nearby buildings, and accompanied by stories from survivors and those who were nearby enough to hear the attack.
"That's Alastor's shadow," Husk explained.
"It has a name!" Angel Dust frowned, "does it talk too?"
"Only ta those it likes, and in sign language. I haven't da foggiest where it learned how," Rosie informed them. "Took nearly thirty-odd years before the dearling even said a word ta me, and another two before it actually decided ta tell me its name. Ozul is quite finicky."
"Takes after its owner," Husk huffed, a hint of humor under his gruff tone.
"Why would he try to sell Ozul, though?" Charlie asked, bringing the topic back to the meat of the problem.
Rosie adjusted her hat. She shifted the skirt of her dress. Pulled at her sleeves to get a few wrinkles out. The question circled her head the entire time with no answer. The Alastor she knew wouldn't. Ozul was precious to him. More so than his life. There had been many who tried to bargain for Alastor's shadow, understanding its great power, and each demon had lost their soul or been added to his catalog of screams instead. Rosie inhaled. A small gasp, but it still grabbed Husk and Charlie's attention. "What did Alastor say in the parlor?" Rosie placed a hand against her lips, trying to recall the angry, distorted words.
Husk's feathery brows scrunched with thought. "Something about debt and being saved. Hard to make out with all the noise."
Charlie turned her head to look at the First Man. He stuck around at the edge of the group in case they managed to get through the door and had to make the hard decision of putting Alastor down. Rosie still wanted that as the absolute last option. The Princess stood. Adam raised his hands. "Woah, now! I ain't done nothing to him since I got here. Been sticking to your rules and everything."
Charlie shook her head. "You wounded him." It wasn't an accusation. Just a statement of fact. "How long would that take to heal?"
Adam’s jaw hung open. "It shouldn't have healed at all! That's why I didn't wanna fight the mother fucker again. If he could survive that, then he's a fucking freak!"
Rosie frowned. After she saw the videos of the deer’s defeat broadcasted all over Hell a few months ago, Alastor had promised he was fine. He said it was a simple flesh wound, nothing more, and it had healed. She told Adam as much.
The former angel laughed incredulously. "No surprise, demons lie."
"Alastor, don't lie. Not ta me," Rosie said firmly, squashing down her anger and forcing herself to remain calm. A problem needed to be solved, and a hothead would only get in the way.
Vaggie added, "he's not wrong. Angelic energy was designed to kill demons. We've seen some survive wounds from angelic steel," she gestured between her and Charlie, "but pure, holy energy. That shouldn't be possible."
"Somehow, Smiles did. For months," Angel Dust pointed out.
Adam pointed at the spider demon. "I don't know how he did it. What I can tell you is that there's none now. So someone hea–" Adam paused mid-word. Then he gritted his teeth and spat, "Lucifer."
A wave of understanding broke across Rosie. She could see it hit most of the group but somehow skipped Charlie. The poor girl asked, confusion and wariness evident, "What does my dad have to do with this?"
Adam turned to her. His expression stated how dumb he thought the question to be. Still, to Rosie's great surprise, the First Man broke the situation down for the Princess. "The only being in Hell that could have healed the Radio Freak is Lucifer. It would've taken a higher angel, at least, to pull the amount of holy energy I pumped into the guy. I mean, I really wanted to kill the fucker. And Lu, he might be fallen, but he was an Archangel first. He still got his grace. Even if it’s not what it used to be."
The group grimaced. They had been at war. Adam commanded the army Rosie's cannibals fought against. She had lost a great number of her people to them. They had also had a divine feast. All things were equal in her book. She harbored no ill feelings toward the former leader.
"Knowing Alastor, he wouldn't have asked for help," Husk stated. "He survived this long. Somehow. So why would the King suddenly help him?"
"Ozul asked him too," Rosie said, finally understanding Alastor's words. "Somethin' must have changed recently for Ozul ta seek our dear King for help."
"Which would have put Boss in debt for a life saved," Husk hopped onto her thought train. "But he rejected whatever deal was offered. Leaving the Boss in debt. And there's nothing worse than an unpaid debt."
"What are you saying?" Charlie asked, her voice shaking. The girl seemed unwilling or unable to accept the facts so plainly laid out. Vaggie placed a comforting hand against her girlfriend’s shoulder. The little angel's face pinched in sympathy. There was a stormy look in her eyes as she watched Charlie refuse to accept the reality of the situation.
Husk held Charlie's gaze, making sure his words were clear and left no room to be misinterpreted. "Alastor is indebt to Lucifer."
The Princess shook her head as she stood up.
Rosie felt for the poor girl—truly, she did—but Alastor held more room in her heart. The anger she had been trying to keep down rose. "Why didn't he make a deal?" She knew no one had the answer, but her anger needed to be voiced.
Charlie rounded on the Overlord. "Why does he need to? Why couldn't he just help him? Alastor was hurt!"
"That's not how it works," Rosie replied. Heat underlining her words. "Not for us. Not in Hell." Alastor had been right. Despite growing up in Hell, the Princess seemed naive to the inner workings of the society Sinners had built.
"Why not?" Charlie cried. Her hands were bundled into fists.
"Charlie," Vaggie tried to grab her hand, but the Princess pulled away.
Charlie moved further from the group. Her eyes glittered wetly as she looked from person to person. "This isn't my dad's fault."
"It kinda is," Angel said, "He coulda just made a stupid deal. Like, make him a sandwich or somethin."
Charlie's face twisted with an expression that spoke of betrayal. Her voice turned hard. "I'm not blaming Adam for attacking us, even though he's the one that hurt Alastor and killed Pentious."
"Adam wouldn't have attacked us if your dad had gone to the meeting like he should've," Vaggie retorted hotly.
Charlie gasped breathlessly while Adam asked in surprise, "What?"
Apparently, the little angel had been keeping her thoughts in for too long. The rest of her anger came spilling out. It poured across the group as she expelled what she had kept bottled up. "It always comes back to your dad, Charlie! He approved the exterminations. You're trying to save people HE abandoned and condemned to Hell. And now this!" She pointed at the door. "When does it become too much?"
Adam chuckled as he smiled proudly at his former exorcist. "The guy has always been a fuck up. Everything he touches gets ruined one way or another." His words were bitter and spiteful, backed by a long history none of them could fully comprehend.
Charlie continued to refuse. She glared at her girlfriend. "I won't let you blame him for things he has no control over."
"Charlie," Rosie started softly, sensing things had gone too far.
"No!" Charlie shouted, "This is how it started with my parents. My mom," she swallowed, losing the battle with her tears. A few broke away, falling over the red circles on her cheek. "She blamed my dad for EVERY. Little. Thing. Things that he didn't do."
"To be fair," Adam huffed, "Lilith wouldn't even be here if it weren't for him."
“Oh wow!” A nervous laugh. “Talk about bad timing.”
Rosie hadn’t seen the King since he came around to heal and cook for her cannibals. He looked much the same as he did now. Broad smile. Shifting eyes. Gloved fingers fidgeting with the apple perched on top of his cane. His white hat was tilted sideways on his head. His kingly attire had smatterings of black blood and ash.
Charlie sniffed and wiped the tears from her cheeks before facing him. "Welcome home, Dad," she tried to be cheerful but fell flat. "When did you get back?"
Lucifer's big serpent eyes swept over the stunned group. They were assessing the situation. His eyes swept back to Alastor's door before turning to his daughter. "Just now.” He frowned. “Why are you crying?"
Charlie laughed nervously. She looked at her friends, who looked equally nervous. It was only now that Roise realized the sounds from Alastor's room had halted.
Rosie stood and curtsy. The solution to their problem was finally here. She would allow no further delays. As much as she loved drama, it could wait. "I beg your pardon ya'majesty. There is a matter that requires your immediate attention," she stated politely.
Lucifer's attention remained on Charlie. "Is this about your mother? Because she had a choice, you know. No one forced her down here.” His expression shifted into worry. “She decided to follow me. And I’ve always been grateful for that.” The King didn’t glance at the surprise look on Adam’s face.
Charlie looked from Rosie to her father. "No. No. It's about Al," she tried to explain. "His curse. The cannibal one I tried to call you about."
The tiny King looked immediately relieved. "Oh! That. It’ll be fine. His shadow seems to have everything under control.”
Rosie felt her anger spike at the dismissive tone. "It does not," she snapped. Finally, the King turned his big eyes on her, then slid them over to the door as if he could see past it. Maybe he could. All of Hell was learning anew, their King was not as docile as he appeared, and his power was far more vast than he led on.
"Al lost control. He nearly ate Husk and Angel last night. And today, he attacked the Vees," Charlie added. “He almost ate Rosie, too, but Ozul stopped him."
"We've tried to get in there and calm him down, but something is keeping us out," Husk finished.
"Yes," Lucifer smiled. It didn't reach his eyes. "That would be me. I felt something dangerous enter the hotel and locked it in the room until I could return and deal with it."
"Well, ya'majesty. If you don't plan ta actually deal with it. Kindly remove your barrier so I can help my dear friend," Rosie requested. She knew her smile was all teeth. Her manners were barely in place.
"No, I don't think I will," Lucifer responded lightly. “I think it’s better to let Ozul handle it."
"As Overlord over cannibals, which Alastor is a part of. It is my sworn duty ta see my people through their curse and ta ensure its end. Whatever that might look like. Until I know it has passed, ya'majesty, I cannot just leave," Rosie stated as cordially as she could.
"Then have Charlie put you in a room for the night and check back tomorrow," Lucifer replied lazily. "I'll remove the spell in the morning."
The King's blase attitude to the situation had finally snapped the last of Rosie's patience. He was part of the reason for this problem. However, directly or indirectly, one wanted to count his involvement. He should be taking responsibility, but as always, he sought to remain uninvolved just as he had done with his rule over his kingdom. Rosie refused to let it happen.
Her gaze settled on the King, only to find him staring back. Red serpentine eyes trained unblinkingly at her. With a deep, unsettling feeling, she realized he was waiting for her to either do or say something. She recognized a challenge when she saw one, and well as an Overlord, Rosie had never been one to turn those down.
Rosie needed a better field of play. The hallway would not do. She put on her sweetest smile. Turned on her northern charm. "Why, ya'majesty," she flipped her hand, "if I'm gonna be waitin' around. Would ya do me the honors of tea and conversations ta help pass some time? Your room is the closest, and I would hate ta be far from my dear sweet Alastor."
The tension in the air could be cut with a knife. Its thickness coiled around the group. Lucifer's smile turned genial as he turned an offering hand. "I would be delighted to keep you company."
The sudden switch in their demeanor was not lost on the rest. Something was happening, but they couldn't tell what. Husk eyed Rosie suspiciously. Angel Dust swallowed nervously. Adam and Vaggie kept their frowns directed at the fallen angel. Charlie looked between the two, unsure. No matter what they felt, the group followed to Lucifer's room, unwilling to leave the two alone.
Rosie wasn't sure what she expected of the King's quarters. Fancy and regal were the top two descriptors if she had to give any. Those were not here. Cluttered, supplied her brain as she took the room in, artful came the second word. Every wall had an inlaid shelf or a picture of his daughter as she aged. Every shelf was full of strange trinkets. In the corners, carved into the molding, was tastefully done carnival decor mixed with shooting stars, snakes, and apples. She spied an unmade canopy bed shoved under a winding staircase to a second floor. The floor-to-ceiling windows weren't plain glass, but they were not entirely stained glass either. There were patterns with some color laid into the windows—perhaps a mixture between the two. A set of sliding doors led to a balcony that spanned the room's width. Rosie turned away from the windows to the large sitting area, taking up most of the room. To the left of a plain white door was a small library filled with too many books, some of which had to be piled on the floor. What took center stage were the rubber ducks. An alarming amount of them were stuffed into every nook and cranny. Each with an outfit or theme. Alastor once told Rosie the King made the yellow squeakers by hand, and some had surprising functions added. A resident had found a fire-breathing one once and lost their eyebrows.
The King waved a hand to create carts of refreshments and snacks. Husk and Angel made their way to a cabinet and pulled it open to reveal a well-stocked bar. Clearly, the King's room was a hangout spot for the group if they knew where things were. Rosie tucked herself into one of two couches arranged around a coffee table. Under its glass surface, there appeared to be a landscape cut right out of Earth. A small pond sat against a large apple tree with various animals around the tree and throughout the green landscape. Niffty once again pressed up against her side and whispered, “It’s Eden.” Adam snorted at the comment.
The King disappeared behind the plain white door. A few minutes later, he returned dressed in an oversized shirt with a duck print of some kind and black sweatpants rolled to where the fur of his goat legs began. His hooves thumped against the plush green carpet. His hair had been taken down, damp from a quick shower, and left to hang messily around his eyes and pointy ears. He allowed his tail to come out, letting it curl over the arm of the tall wingback chair he flopped into across from the female Overlord.
So this is what Alastor meant by unassuming. She could see how others who had not seen him in his formal attire would be fooled. His slight frame certainly did nothing for him, but she could see the muscles underneath his pale skin, the hidden strength. She had taken too many bodies apart not to notice. Rosie carefully took in the Devil from over the top of her teacup. Every strand of hair, down to the tip of his pointy black spade tail with its heart print in the center. Lucifer gazed back calmly. A smirk lifted the corner of his lips. Humor danced in his eyes. His fork tongue flicked from between his lips every few seconds.
The field was set. They both knew it. The game was on, and Rosie meant to win.
Rosie returned her teacup to its saucer. She placed her hands in her lap and allowed her anger to simmer. "Ozul came ta ya for help," Rosie stated. Her tone was serious despite the sweetness her words were coated in.
If Lucifer was surprised by either her awareness of the matter or change in attitude, he didn't show it. He only tucked his hooves under him and leaned against one arm of his chair. "It did," he replied simply. Providing nothing more.
This was a test, then, to see how much she knew. Rosie kept her smile friendly. "Ta heal the wound Alastor sustained during his battle with Adam," she paused. Waited a moment. When the King added nothing, she continued, "After you healed my darling deer, he tried ta clear his debt ta ya by trading Ozul, which ya didn't take."
Lucifer's smirk widened, "I have no need for such a thing."
"Ya didn't make any deal," Rosie clarified, "leaving Alastor indebted ta ya for saving his life."
"Is that what all this is about?" The King laughed airily. "I refused to take his deal, and he’s throwing a fit. Last time I save someone out of the goodness of my heart."
Rosie's smile sharpened. "I realize ya been removed from society for quite some time," she said coolly. "There is a rule. Mostly unspoken, but a golden one that is followed amongst sinners. A favor given is a favor owed. That is ta say, no matter how small, all debts must be repaid." Even though Alastor had warned her of the danger during their last friendly tea time, Rosie looked the Devil in the eye. "Nothing in Hell comes for free, My King. Least of all a life." The title was stated with false reverence.
Lucifer regarded her for a moment. The humor in his eyes sparkled, and his smirk spread into a terrible smile. His head tilted as if in thought, but it seemed more predatory. "Removed from society?" he asked playfully, "How so?"
All signs told her to turn back. She ignored them and pressed on. "While you've been on ya many centuries-long sabbatical, my dear King," Rosie picked each word carefully. “Hell has had to find its own governance. It's not perfect. But we make do. The order we've managed to find has kept us from total ruin, although I suppose ya wouldn't be able to see that from ya tower."
She paused to take a sip from her tea, allowing her words to sit for a moment. She debated on her next set and waited for Lucifer to comment. When he only continued to watch her, she deemed the tense silence had gone on long enough. Rosie ran a delicate finger around the cup's rim as she spoke, "Deals, although I admit can be distasteful, help us, Overlords, keep order. Not just over the souls we keep but also the territory we've claimed. Some of us are better at it than others. Regardless, it's part of the governance that keeps Hell from spiraling into total anarchy."
She returned the teacup to its plate and looked into the blank face of the fallen angel. She forced away the terror from looking into such an empty gaze. "You might look down on Alastor's attempt to balance what ya deem are irrelevant scales. But for us. Those who live in the heat of this unforgiving place. It is the only order we have left."
After her speech, silence fell. Tension swelled into a fever pitch. She refused to look away from the blank expression. Slowly, Lucifer's head righted itself. His eyes lit up with cruel glee, and his smile turned downright wicked. He clapped. "Bravo! Truly. Marvelously!"
Rosie kept her back straight. Her hands were neatly tucked in her lap. Her smile was as pleasant as possible, and her gaze firm. She did not flinch. Refused to, even as Lucifer stood up and slid across the coffee table so he could sit on the edge in front of her. The teacup and anything else in his way moved on its own to make room for him. Their knees were hand-width apart.
He leaned back on his arms to keep him up. His tail came around to lay across his lap. "You're wrong about one thing." She couldn’t quite place his tone. "I know very well how it all works. I built it after all."
Rosie raised an eyebrow. "I'm aware of the rumors. You made Hell."
Lucifer laughed delightedly. "That too. I meant the deal-maker system," he waved a finger up and down the length of her body, "and the Overlord system. The thing that gives you and Alastor power," he pointed back to himself, "I designed the whole thing."
Rosie stared at him. Her mind trying and refusing to wrap itself around his declaration.
He leaned forward until he was in her space. His head cocked to one side. The blood red of his wide iris regarded her through the fringes of his pale blond bangs. His fork tongue flickered briefly. Tasting the air between them. "Based on everything you just said, I'd say the systems are working as in tended. Exactly the way I designed them too." His voice dripped with venom. "Why so surprised, Rosie? Did you really think I'd leave my people directionless? Helpless?"
He pulled away and ran the back of his fingers down one of her cheeks. "I know what you want. I always know, so I used that as the base for the deal-maker system." He tipped her chin down with a deceptively gentle yet firm grip so their gazes would lock. "There were so many sinners, so I incentivized Overlords to govern souls by awarding them power and territory. I made them the pinnacle for a deal-maker."
He chuckled. It chilled her to the bone. Froze the breath in her lungs.
"You made a mistake, sweet Rosie."
The red in his eyes expanded.
"I haven't been hiding in my tower," his voice echoed in her head.
"I've been with you this entire time."
Notes:
There is a lot of lore in this chapter I'm excited to share with you all.
We'll revisit some of it and delve deeper in later chapters, but I would love to hear your thoughts.Sneak Peek:
When the police finally came knocking four days later, Rosie knew she would not be caught. Even when they found Mary-Ann's body. Nothing pointed back to her, and no one would believe a sweet person like her could do such a terrible thing in the first place.Rosie herself hardly believed it. She was convinced it was a one-time thing. That dark thing inside her had been fed. But she couldn't forget the taste. She wanted more. No meat could match it. And she had tried to find something. Oh, she tried. Still, she refused to give in to the urge. It was not good, and Rosie WAS a good person.
Chapter 13: Price Of Love
Summary:
When the police finally came knocking four days later, Rosie knew she would not be caught. Her guiding light told her so. Even when the woman’s family returned to find Mary-Anna in her bedroom looking as if she was only asleep, nothing pointed back to Rosie. No one would believe a sweet person like her could do such a terrible thing in the first place.
Rosie herself hardly believed it. She was convinced it was a one-time thing. That dark feeling inside her had been fed. But she couldn't forget the taste. She wanted more. No meat could match it. And she had tried to find something. Oh, she tried. Still, she refused to give in to the urge. It was not good, and Rosie WAS a good person.
Notes:
Please! Get this chapter away from me!
I'm stressing over it! Legit panicking!
I feel like it's the worst thing I've ever written!
Self-critique is working against me BIG TIME!The only way I got through the ABSURD amount of rewrites I did for this
and gained the confidence to post what I feel is the weakest chapter of the story thus far,
Was all the comments, kudos, and the fanart that Taschamix did.Seriously, thank you, everyone, for reading and commenting!
It helps so much! Especially when I'm struggling on a chapter like this!MIND THE TAGS
cannibalism, graphic murdersThat is throughout this chapter. Rosie is not a very nice person.
This is how she got her express ticket to hell.
If you would like to skip all that, look for ***************
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
It wasn't like Rosie to be nervous. Calm wasn't the exact word she would use to describe herself. Collected, maybe. Yes, that had a nice ring to it. She knew how to keep house. Ensured her husband never worried or needed for anything. She was a great wife and a good neighbor. Everyone knew her, from the shops to the widow on the corner. Friendly, they called her. An excellent person to know if you were ever in need of help. There was a guiding light inside her that gave her the confidence to make decisions. So nervousness was not something she knew.
Yet here she was, feeling like a flock of pigeons chasing bread. Her cookies were perfect. She made four batches and picked the third one because it came out best. She tightened her corset just right. She chose her blue dress, which matched her baby blue eyes. Did her hair in the style she knew made her face look small and cute. She put a little makeup on to add color to her cheeks. Then selected her most stylish hat and set out to meet the most lovely girl ever. Truly a doll. They have been meeting for months and she has just, well... Rosie doesn't know quite how to word it.
Mary-Anna was a dream. Smart as a whip and read the same books Rosie did. That's how they met, at Mrs. Margos' book gathering every second Thursday. The two hit it right off and found themselves spending more time with each other, like meeting at the park or going to the cafes. The two talked about all sorts of things, from the books they were reading to hypothetical situations of women running important political offices. Those kinds of talks were Rosie’s favorites, and she took them very seriously, even if Mary-Anna spent most of the time giggling sweetly.
This time, Mary-Anna invited Rosie over for tea. It'll be the first time she had gone to her dear friend's house, and she was so excited and nervous! Mary-Anna welcomed Rosie with a soft kiss on the cheek that made Rosie’s stomach flip. Mary-Anna’s family was away on holiday. She had decided to stay behind to catch up on some seamstress work. The young woman was beautiful. Hair black as a raven's wing. Eyes as brown as the chocolates in Rosie's perfect cookies. Her skin was a perfect peach. Oh, her smile. Rosie loved Mary-Anna's smile the most. The gentle curves of her lips always made two cute dimples appear on her cheeks, and her eyes sparkled with bright joy.
"How long you and Tomas been married?" Mary-Anna asked, leaning close to Rosie. They sat beside each other in the parlor, with barely any space between them. The arms of the wicker chairs were practically overlapping. She looked at Rosie through her long eyelashes. Her dress was simple. Nothing meant to be worn outside. Hardly fit to entertain company in either. The neckline plunged low on her chest but still left enough for the imagination.
Rosie leaned back, trying to keep her eyes on Mary-Anna's face politely, but they kept slipping, following the curve of the young woman's neck. "Only two years now," Rosie heard herself answer, but her mind was starting to drift to a territory that was becoming more frequent with her friend. Valiantly, Rosie wrangled her thoughts back and took a sip of her tea, "are ya'looking?"
Mary-Anna groaned. "My father is." She tipped her head more. Her hair trailed away from her neck. "Says I'm getting old. Do you think I am?" Her smile turned coy.
Rosie pulled her eyes away. Her own smile turned playful. Her cheeks flushed, feeling caught by those knowing eyes. This was a familiar dance they would do. Mary-Anna always led, pulling Rosie along in dizzying twirls of heat she didn't quite understand but excitedly enjoyed nonetheless. Today felt different, though. Hotter. More dangerous. "I think ya lovely," Rosie replied.
Mary-Anna pushed closer. Her chest leaned over the arm of her chair and into Rosie’s space. Her warm hand slid over Rosie's on the table. Her eyes shining and yet dark at the same time. Her gaze pulled with its own gravity. "How so?" She pressed.
Rosie felt herself leaning. Helplessly sucked in. The heat inside her grew alongside another feeling. Something far darker and more insatiable. It wants. Rosie wasn't sure what IT wanted, but the desire has been growing steadily around Mary-Anna. Some days, she can't stop thinking about the girl and… "Ya smile," Rosie whispered, "it's beautiful."
Mary-Anna laughed. It sounded like a songbird in the morning. High and rich. "Just my smile?" She asked in a conspiratorial whisper. She reached up and removed Rosie's hat, setting it off to the side with one hand. The other hand slowly, feather-light, traced the curves of Rosie's face. "I think you're beautiful," she stated boldly.
Rosie inhaled. A quick breath. Startled by her friend's frankness. More than that, she was taken aback by the sudden spike of heat in her gut. It had been building between them for months—a string winding tight with each meeting, waiting for one of them to cut it. Rosie wasn’t surprised her friend made the first move. She has always been bold. Never afraid to speak her mind or go for what she wanted. That’s what Rosie loved about Mary-Anna.
Rosie pushed away from the table.
"I'm sorry," Mary-Anna said, pain in her voice, taking Rosie's reaction as rejection.
Rosie shook her head. "No," she smiled. Knew it looked flimsy. "I. Mary. Ya make me..." Rosie turned away and walked into the kitchen. The want inside her was all-consuming now. It needed Mary. The feeling buzzed under her skin. Begged to be quenched. Rosie squeezed her eyes against the feeling as she leaned into the kitchen sink.
Mary-Anna. The sweet, wonderful woman comforted Rosie. Slid her hands over Rosie's back and shoulders. "It's okay," she whispered, "let's just have tea."
"I want you," Rosie confessed. She looked at the dirty dish in the sink. The silly girl hadn't done her chores yet. She was lazy like that, too.
Mary-Anna gasped softly. When Rosie looked, Mary-Anna smiled so beautifully. Her gorgeous eyes shone with desire. She leaned forward. Her soft pink lips pressed against Rosie's in a short, sweet kiss. "I want you too," she replied breathlessly.
"I know, dear," Rosie said, "that's the problem."
Mary-Anna had only a moment to be confused before Rosie put the knife in her chest. Maybe if she had done her chores, Rosie wouldn't have followed through with her dark desire. They might have fallen into the heat they had been building between them instead.
Mary-Anna stumbled backward, one hand raising toward the wooden handle. Her lovely face frozen in confused shock. Rosie reached forward and pulled the knife out, only to push it back in. Her friend made a beautiful sound before she fell. The light in her pretty eyes dimmed until it was gone completely. Blood seeped from her wound, staining her dress a delicious red, and pooled on the floor.
Rosie felt her body move. Her hands pulled the knife from her friend's chest. Raised the skirt of Mary-Anna’s dress high enough to reveal her right leg. The young woman was wonderfully plump. The cooling skin beneath Rosie’s fingers was soft and firm but gave way easily under the knife. She cut a small section from Mary-Anna’s right thigh and then ate it.
The taste. Oh! The taste was delightful—sweet and tender. Just like the young woman it came from. Rosie had to have more. So she ate. Ate until she couldn't. Ate until the feeling of want finally went away.
Then, well. Rosie was a great wife. She knew how to keep a house. By the time she left her dear friend, there was no evidence she had been there at all.
When the police finally came knocking four days later, Rosie knew she would not be caught. Her guiding light told her so. Even when the woman’s family returned to find Mary-Anna in her bedroom looking as if she was only asleep, nothing pointed back to Rosie. No one would believe a sweet person like her could do such a terrible thing in the first place.
Rosie herself hardly believed it. She was convinced it was a one-time thing. That dark feeling inside her had been fed. But she couldn't forget the taste. She wanted more. No meat could match it. And she had tried to find something. Oh, she tried. Still, she refused to give in to the urge. It was not good, and Rosie WAS a good person.
Then she met Rufus. Charming as he was handsome. New to her husband's work and the city. Rosie and him hit it right off. Their friendship developed so fast that it was on the cusp of being something it shouldn't. She was a happily married woman, after all.
It all came to a head when her husband went out of town for work, and Rufus decided to try his luck. Rosie was no fool. She knew why he invited her out. The dinner was far too fancy for just friends. Still, the evening was wonderful, and Rosie couldn't help but be swept away. Rufus’ charm truly worked its magic.
He took her back to his place. A smart thing to do so her nosy neighbors wouldn't catch them. His little apartment was above a small shop, which is what you would expect of a bachelor in New York. Not much. A kitchen, living room, and a bedroom were all furnished modestly.
"Rufus," Rosie admonished good-naturedly. "I'm a married woman now! I can't be seen galavanting all around town with someone who’s not my husband."
Rufus laughed. It was deep and whispy. "Which is why I brought you here, my darling Rosie." He pulled out two wine glasses from a cabinet and a bottle of cheap sherry from a small wine rack. "I would never harm your reputation."
Rosie made her smile playful, flirting with the edge of sultry. She could feel it again. The swirling dark desire mixed with the heat of passion. It buzzed under her skin. Made her mouth water in a way the fancy dinner failed to do. Her eyes traced the lines of Rufus' sturdy body as he removed his jacket and hung it on the coat rack by the door. "Tell me again where ya came from?"
Rufus huffed as he filled their glasses halfway each. "Middle of nowhere, Nebraska. Boring as can be. Nothing but farmland as far as the eye can see," he gestured with his glass. "Thought I'd never leave."
"But ya did," Rosie grinned. She placed one of her hands on the table. Her index finger pressed up against the stem of her wine glass. She rested her head in her other hand and watched Rufus through half-lidded eyes.
"And thank God for that," Rufus nodded, drinking half his glass. "What about you? Always been a city girl?" He leaned in, a large callus hand moving over hers.
"Is that what ya really wanna know?" Rosie asked with a coy smile. She looked pointedly at their hands.
Rufus chuckled. "You caught me. I was hoping for something else tonight." He leaned in, pausing only a moment to see if she would pull away. When she didn't, he closed the remaining distance. This kiss was not as innocent as the kiss she had shared with Mary-Anna. It was demanding and passionate.
The kiss woke the thing inside her. Warped the heat of sexual passion into something darker and hungrier. Rufus could only let out a wet, choking gasp as she plunged the sharp, thin knife into his jugular. She had hidden it among the decorations of her hat. Rosie pushed Rufus backward as she pulled the knife out and quickly plunged it into his heart. He grabbed her arm with his remaining strength. He tried talking through the blood filling his throat but only choked more. She leaned over him and watched the light leave his eyes with a pleasant smile on her lips.
Rosie picked the meat on Rufus's thick, muscular arms. Ate until the beast inside her was full. That's what it was, she realized. A beast. Hungry for a special delicacy she couldn't find in the butcher shops.
Cleanup this time was difficult. Rufus was too heavy for her to move alone, so Rosie took a risk and left the mess. She only erased her presence from his living space. Her guiding light told her this would be enough. No one would know she was the culprit, even if she was the last person to be seen alive with him. The two had been careful. After all, this was meant to be a love affair. They had made a show when they parted ways at the restaurant. No one had seen her enter his apartment from the backdoor, and she took the same exit when leaving. The only people who might have seen her were passersby on the streets, as all the shops were closed for the evening.
True enough, the police had come nearly a week later. They confirmed exactly what Rosie hoped. She was the last to see him, but not the main suspect. Rufus was a great teaching experience for her. She knew what she was dealing with now. The beast inside her could not be ignored. Her next two feedings went better, and no police arrived at her doorstep afterward.
Eventually, Rosie even made a friend!
The widow on the corner. Susan. The grouchy, old woman nobody liked but put up with.
Turned out, she ate her husband.
Rosie found this out by accident through a rather interesting tea time the local ladies in her neighborhood have once a month. It was Rosie's turn to host, and she was really the only one who invited Susan, believing it was a polite thing to do since the old mad lady lived in the neighborhood. One of the women complained about their husband not giving them any love, and Susan thought she had the best advice to solve the poor woman’s problems.
"If he ain't listin’, just eat him," the moody old woman shouted with a wave of her hand.
"You say that about any inconvenience," Avery huffed over her tea and a hearty roll of her eyes.
Susan gestured to herself with her cane, "And do you see me with problems?"
Loraine leaned over to Rosie, her whisper far too loud, "why do you keep inviting her?"
"Because," Rosie said and left it at that.
Susan was always the last to leave. Rosie never had a problem with it. She had a feeling that the old woman wanted company, but no one ever wanted to give it, and the proud old cat would never ask for it. "Did you really eat ya husband?" Rosie asked when it was just them.
"Think I'm lyin'?" Susan challenged, pouring herself another cup. A clear indication she meant to overstay her welcome.
"Most people think so," Rosie pointed out. She sat across from Susan and poured a cup from the same pot. It would be a few hours before Tomas got home. She could entertain the lonely woman until then.
Susan huffed a laugh. It was not a pleasant sound. Scratchy and gruff, almost as if it was trying to fight its way out of her throat. Her eyes changed then. There was a familiar hunger there. One that couldn't be fed with cookies and sandwiches. "His heart tasted the best. Didn't have much meat on his bones, but I liked his legs too."
Rosie swallowed, "why'd ya do it?"
"Cause I wanted it," Susan said candidly, "wanted to know what he tasted like. Loved him to bits I did, but I wanted to taste him more. Best thing I ever tasted. Haven't had anything that good since." Her eyes spoke of a great longing—a desire to have more and not knowing where to get it.
"What if ya could?" Rosie asked. Part of her foundation in life was helping people. It gave her purpose. She felt Susan needed more than help. She needed to feed the beast inside her, too. Rosie could see it clawing at Susan’s insides, slowly whittling away at her sanity. Rosie could do something about that. She knew she could.
Susan and her fed together. Hunted together. Thanks to Susan's grouchy nature, no one came around her house. It proved to be the best place to store their food. They found a way to dump the bodies without drawing suspicion onto themselves. It was nice to have someone who understood the hungry beast inside Rosie. For a time, everything in her life was absolutely perfect.
Until it wasn't.
Susan got caught. How? Rosie didn't know.
Four years of bliss came to a crashing end as Susan's house was raided and then burnt down. The woman fled during the night before the police arrived, but the evidence of their crimes had still been found. Rosie fell under suspicion since they were close, so she stopped hunting. But it was hard. The beast inside her roared for food constantly. She grew hungry. For months, nothing she ate was filling. Her guiding light, for the first time, had no answers.
Rosie thought she might go mad.
Maybe she did in the end.
"What are you doing?" Tomas's voice was full of fear. She didn't understand why until she looked down and saw the raw meat for their dinner in her hands. Pork she had picked up early in the day. A chunk missing.
That piece was currently in her mouth.
She quickly spit it into the sink and turned to her husband. "Just testing for flavor, Love," she laughed. Even to her ears, it sounded wrong, like broken glass and grinding gravel.
Tomas shook his head. His face was full of pain. "No," he choked on the word. "You. You didn't."
"Love," Rosie moved toward him, hands reaching out to comfort. They were covered in blood. Rosie froze. She couldn't tell if that was real or a figment of her imagination.
She hadn't hunted recently.
She could taste blood on her tongue.
Tomas flinched away. "God, Rosie, what did you do?"
Rosie wiped her hands on her dress. "Nothin', Love," she tried to sound sweet and playful. Her voice came out darker. "I was just a little hungry." The buzzing was under her skin again. It wanted to taste Tomas. No. She couldn't. Not him. Her breath stuttered in her chest.
Tomas stared at her in dismay. "You ate them. You and Susan."
Rosie shook her head. "Don’t be silly." She tried to reach out to him again, but the blood was still there.
Tomas stepped further back. "Don't lie to me."
"I'm not," Rosie laughed. It sounded even worse. More manic.
Tomas turned and fled.
Rosie gave chase.
The shot echoed through their bedroom.
She remembered Tomas bought the small revolver after reading the news headlines about the string of dead bodies cropping up all over New York. Most of the victims were found in their own homes. He wanted to feel safe. He had no way of knowing it was Rosie making those headlines.
Rosie stumbled backward. She caught her reflection in the hallway mirror. Her smile was twisted, full of evil intent. The beast had come out. It turned her baby blue eyes into a dark storm of hunger. She couldn't recognize her face at all. Her gaze traveled down to the blossoming red stain on her blouse.
She turned back to Tomas, who stood terrified by the vanity next to their bed, gun raised. She laughed wetly. What else was she to do but laugh? "I love you," she gasped as the world went black.
*******************
When Rosie opened her eyes, the black space around her extended in every direction further than she could or would ever comprehend. There was no horizon. No beginning and no end. It felt like her feet touched solid ground, but she stood on nothing. All twenty of Rosie’s victims surrounded her. Still as statues, faces as lifeless as the last time she saw them. She looked at her hands. There was no blood. More importantly, she dressed as she did in Hell.
A memory prison.
Alastor had warned her. Still, she decided to play with fire and challenge the King. If she was allowed to be honest, the result was a little underwhelming. She was led to believe this was going to be a horrible ordeal. Instead, she was treated to a highlight reel of her best kills.
The only part she was ashamed of was her death. Tomas hadn't deserved that. He had been a loving husband and a caring man. He gave her everything she needed as a wife, and what had she done? Tried to eat him. Force him to kill her in self-defense. She was so sure she loved Tomas with every part of her being that she could keep him safe from the dark, hungry beast. He was never supposed to be on the menu, but she hadn’t accounted for losing control of herself like that. She wondered what her love amounted to if she couldn’t keep him safe in the end.
"Isn’t that the million dollar question," the King's voice drifted around her. Despite herself, Rosie can't help but look for him. "How many of them did you love before you killed them?"
Rosie looked away from her victims. She loved all of them in one way or another. That was the trigger to awaken the beast. The heat of passion and her dark desire were closely intertwined with it. Maybe it had been foolish to think Tomas could be different, and she had been putting off the inevitability.
"I made peace with it, ya'majesty," Rosie replied simply. She held her head high and shoved away the small stirring of shame she felt in her core. It’s what the Devil wanted, no doubt, and she refused to give it to him.
"Have you?" He asked skeptically. "Because..."
Rosie blinked. Her hands were buried in Alastor's chest cavity. His entrails were spilling over and out of him. His blood coated her arms and turned her dress a deeper purple, almost black. He stared up at Rosie with lifeless eyes. His smile forever frozen as a slash across his face.
Rosie jerked away in horror. "I would never do this ta him," she shouted in disgust. The taste of copper coated her tongue. She fought to keep the bile down.
"Because you love him?" The Devil laughed cruelly. "Didn’t we just agree that usually precedes lunch?"
"I make no excuses for what I’ve done." Rosie turned away from her friend, putting her back to the gory sight. She curled her hands into fists and glared straight ahead."I know the curse is my punishment for those deeds. I have worked hard ta ensure I would not lose myself ta that hunger again. And I have helped others, like me, find relief from their suffering. Ya've seen it yaself." The black space around her changed to show a peaceful street in Cannibal Town. Her victims transformed and animated into cheerful citizens.
She watched the scene for a moment. Allowed the joyous population to calm her as it always did whenever she walked around the home she built in Hell. She took several calming breaths and turned around. Lucifer was standing in the middle of the street, dressed in his kingly attire. His expression was playful. Rosie didn't share the feeling.
Her smile was sharp. All teeth. "Is that it, ya'majesty?" She asked, each word baked with the heat of her anger. "Show me my misdeeds. Make me relive my death a couple of times in hopes I might regret my actions. Which we both know I won’t. Then call it a day. I’m struggling ta see the point of all this."
"I'm just trying to understand," Lucifer replied with a confused tilt of his head. "Why you would go this far for him? It’s no small thing to start a fight with me. I’ve killed Overlords for less."
"It might be hard for ya ta believe, but old Alastor and I take care of one another. Always have and always will." Rosie countered. “Maybe that’s where ya should have spent ya time digging around.”
"Cares for you? He tried to eat you." The scene around them changed. She was standing again, between the jaws of Alastor's monstrous form. Frozen in time. Rosie could feel the points of his needle-like teeth pressing against her skin. “Maybe that’s a friendly cannibal thing I don’t understand.” The Devil’s laugh was mocking.
Rosie wouldn't rise to the bait. She closed her eyes to the scene. "We already explained it ta ya."
"No, you blamed me," Lucifer spat. The scene returned to the black space. Thankfully missing her victims. Just the two of them standing in a vast space of forever nothingness. "I helped because he was dying. Should I have let him?"
"Why didn't ya make a deal?" Rosie asked instead. The crux of the problem. "Would it have been that difficult?"
"So I should have taken his shadow? Taken half his power?" Lucifer returned.
Rosie gritted her teeth and turned away. She wasn't getting anywhere like this. They were just circling each other like fighting dogs, nipping at each other's heels.
She closed her eyes. Her frustration was bubbling over. What mattered to her, what mattered right this moment, was getting Alastor help. The only one who could probably bring Alastor back from the curse was the King, but he didn’t seem inclined to do it because he felt wronged by Rosie’s very justified accusation.
Rosie knew how to bring this game to an end and get what she wanted. She had to bow her head to the King. Acknowledge she was in the wrong and no deal could have ever been struck.
But…
Stubbornness was stitched into the fabric of her being. Impossible to pick out.
She would have never become an Overlord without her own pride, and she refused to give it up so readily.
Alastor wouldn’t want her to beg.
So, she doubled down. Rosie opened her eyes, faced the Devil and his terrible power head-on. For all she cared, he could leave her in this prison to be killed by Tomas again and again. Rosie would not give up her pride. "I won't apologize," she said clearly. "I don't know what happened. What all he tried ta offer? But You are King, and YOU, as ya eloquently put it, know how IT works," she emphasized with a jab of her pointer. "Ya designed the whole damn thing! That’s what ya said!” She waved at the space around them. “Ya SHOULD have found a compromise. The fact ya didn't, isn't just a derelict of duty. I can only assume it was a conscious choice ta keep a powerful Overlord indebted ta ya."
Rosie paused, picked her next words, and resigned herself to whatever fate the King chose. "The failure ta follow through with a deal put others in danger. And left me and ya lovely daughter ta clean up a mess ya made, however unintentionally ya meant ta." Rosie dipped into a mocking curtsy. Alastor would be proud. "Congratulations ya'majesty. With all your incredible powers, ya have still proven yaself to be a useless pest. Unworthy of even a spec of respect from the lowliness of low sinners."
The King's gaze was heavy. He said nothing in return. His face was blank, giving none of his thoughts away.
Rosie was not sure how long they stood staring at each other. She had nothing left to say. All she could do was wait for his judgment.
The black space began to fall away. In its place, the room returned. The lights first. Then, King’s clothes morphed into the oversized t-shirt with the duck eating a pizza and screaming how good it tasted. Rosie's eyes dropped to the multiple hands pulling on the little King’s arms and shoulders, which did nothing to dislodge the small body where he sat on the coffee table’s edges, inches from Rosie, who sat on the couch. Charlie's distraught face appeared beside Adam's angry one over Lucifer's shoulders. Both of them were on top of the table. Their words filtered in next.
"Dad, please! She didn't mean to upset you," Charlie cried. Tears streamed down her face as she tugged on the Devil’s immovable arm.
"Let her go, Lu!" Adam demanded. He tugged on Lucifer’s shoulder, but the Devil still didn’t move. The little King didn’t even seem to notice the twos' efforts at all.
Rosie became aware of Niffty's small hands bundled in her dress. "Rosie, wake up!" The little darling called.
Lucifer's fingers, firmly pressed into the Overlord’s cheeks, fell away. The crimson eyes shrunk until they were slitted pupils. He moved out of Rosie's space, allowing the sinner to collapse back into the couch. Her lungs filled with air—one greedy breath after another. Charlie immediately moved to Rosie, her hands fluttering over the Overlord worriedly. Rosie couldn't distinguish the Princess's speedy words beyond their worried tone. Her attention still tuned to the Devil, who also hadn't looked away.
Lucifer broke into delighted laughter. He curled in on himself with it. "You," he struggled between the bell chimes of his giggles. "You're something." He smiled. A real one. Its warmth reached his eyes like a sunflare. He patted a stunned Rosie's knee as he stood. "You're right. I might have made a mistake," He conceded. Not a full admittance of guilt, but more than one would expect from the Sin of Pride.
Rosie blinked. She looked around the room. Everyone looked just as confused and surprised as she felt. "I…" words didn't often fail her. "You're going to help?" She asked, her mind still trying to process all she had been through in the last…however long they had been in the prison.
"That's what you wanted," Lucifer said breezily, like losing the game they had been playing didn’t bother him. Rosie won, but for some reason, it didn’t feel that way. She couldn’t explain why. Her mind was in one piece, and the Devil agreed to help Alastor, but she felt like she had lost something in the process. She could feel it but didn’t have enough information to discern what it was.
"And ya will make a deal," Rosie pressed because she had to know. It was the crux of the problem. What started all of this trouble. "With Alastor?"
Lucifer shrugged dismissively. "If that's what he wants. I'm sure we'll figure something out."
All of a sudden, it felt too easy. Rosie made to stand, intending to follow, but Lucifer's tail pressed against her chest. "Just me," he waved toward Alastor's room. "Doesn't feel like things are good over there. So I should go alone. I'll drop the barrier in the morning. Feel free to stay here or have Charlie set a room up for you." Before any more questions could be asked, the King disappeared in a swirl of red glitter.
Silence fell over the group in the wake of the Devil’s departure. Rosie felt uneasy but she couldn’t place where the feeling was coming from. Something in the little King’s demeanor, his easy acceptance over his loss to her, didn’t feel right. Her mind still struggled to process all she experienced in the Memory Prison. Rosie wondered how to explain it to Alastor at their next tea and gossip session.
"Holy shit!" Adam laughed, breaking the quiet. All eyes turned to him. He looked at Rosie with deep, unguarded respect. "You beat the fucking Devil!"
Rosie smiled weakly. She didn’t want to worry them anymore. It’s been an eventful enough day.
No, Rosie thought privately. She lost. She just didn’t know what the Devil took.
Notes:
We made it to the end together! The chapter is probably not as bad as I think it is.
I just have certain expectations for my writing and get frustrated when I don't reach it.
That said, I have to publish this, or I risk hitting writer's block and losing this story.
Absolutely can't let that happen! I'd rather have a few weak chapters than nothing at all.Again, thank you for all the wonderful comments! They really helped me push through editing and rewriting this chapter.
A special thanks to Tashamix for the amazing Fanart. I damn near ugly cried when I saw it.Sneak Peek:
"That's three times you've saved me, Devil Dearest," Alastor said bitterly. Breaking the silence of the room. Distantly, he heard the Devil's unique jazz music. Felt himself automatically tune to the blasted duck balanced on what was left of the coffee table.Lucifer peeled one eye open and slid it over to Alastor. His smile sat crooked. "Yeah, well. Your friend Rosie gave me a good talking to." Humor curled around his words.
Chapter 14: What Is Owed
Summary:
"That's three times you've saved me, Devil Dearest," Alastor said bitterly. Breaking the silence between them. Distantly, he heard the Devil's unique jazz music. Felt himself automatically tune to the blasted duck balanced on what was left of the coffee table.
Lucifer peeled one eye open and slid it over to Alastor. His smile sat crooked on his beaten-up face, a slight yellowish bruise formed on his chin and right cheek. Alastor felt a bit of smug satisfaction for getting a hit in, even if he hadn’t been in his right mind. "Yeah, well. Your friend Rosie gave me a good talking to." Humor curled around his words.
Notes:
I live!
A heads up:
There are a lot of differing sources about Alastor’s age and time of death.
For this story, I’ve decided to have his mid-teen years(16-18) during the beginning of the Great Depression.A bit of history: The Transatlantic voice he speaks with didn’t become well-known in movies and radio until around 1920, right around the time the Depression started. That doesn’t mean people weren’t using it before then, but the Transatlantic voice was something that had to be learned by actors and radio hosts.
I see Alastor as being kinda self-made, so I think he would have picked up the accent by listening to the radio and mimicking the voice of the radio or actors.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Hunger was a constant companion of Alastor's. Not just in death but in life as well.
Growing up, his family never had enough, but his mother always found a way to put clothes on their backs and food in their bellies. She would fix dresses in exchange for fabrics to make clothes, make medicine for the sick for ingredients to make bread, and rarely ask for money, as her clients were in the same predicament as them. Many also sought his dear mother out for her gifts and sometimes her guidance with the help of the spirits she often spoke to.
Whatever his mother managed to scrounge together, his wretched father got the first helping, and they got the scraps. So Alastor knew hunger well before the rest of his world did. Before food became short. Before people couldn't trade his mother for even that, and he resorted to hunting in the bayou against his mother's wishes.
Once Alastor landed in Hell, he didn't give a single thought to the gnawing in his gut until he was forced to by way of the curse. To lose control over something he had mastered over his 30-odd years of human life was unacceptable. Just as he did with all obstacles to his carefully crafted image, he grabbed the beastly thing by the horns and owned it. Placed himself on a feeding schedule and stuck to it, no matter how much he didn't want to some days.
Unfortunately, much to his chagrin, something would break his routine. He would forget to eat. Fall back into old habits. Assure himself that he would eat soon even as the pit grew ever wider in his gut. Rosie would tell him in her comforting sweet way these things happened. Even to the best-maintained cannibal. The important thing was not to fall too far that you couldn't find your way back. That was when a cannibal truly became lost. Someone, usually Rosie, Niffty, or Ozul got to him before that point.
It seemed this time he was not so lucky.
His awareness steadily fell away from him as he flew through the airwaves. His only thought was to arrive at the gaudy monstrosity known as V Tower and...
Do what?
Vox had been little more than an irritant since Alastor’s return from his seven-year sabbatical. After the battle with Adam’s army, the deer demon resolved to ignore the annoying Picture Box’s smear campaigns, knowing it would bother the attention-seeking cretin to receive no reaction at all. Alastor had been right. His sources told him the Idiot Box was close to blowing a fuse the longer the Radio Demon ignored Vox’s blatant attempts to get a raise from his supposed rival.
Alastor shouldn’t be here, and yet he was.
The stunned look on the Vees' faces was delectable as the Radio Demon emerged in the conference room through the devices the tech demons prided themselves on.
As Alastor fought, his consciousness slid further into an odd haze. The feeling didn’t match the fires of adrenaline or bring with it the breathless excitement of bloodlust. His mind and body disconnected like a circuit between them broke. His opponents were none the wiser to the deer demon’s internal changes. Alastor became a single audience, watching from behind his eyes as his body moved in well-practiced steps. It pinned the putrid Valentino to the wall with his staff, locked the poser Vox in a signal loop, and knocked the brash Velvette around the wrecked conference room. Alastor vaguely knew this was not how he wanted to take the three Overlords down. Their fight should be heard. The pretentious Vees’ suffering should be broadcasted for all of Hell to know they were being brought low by the Radio Demon just as Alastor used to in his early days as the Overlord Slayer. But Alastor, in this strange haze puppeting his body, didn’t turn on a single radio.
One thought started to take over the haze. It rang around his head, as loud as the sirens coming from his body…
Hungry
A deep, unfathomable hunger. The gnawing in Alastor’s stomach, which he had ignored for days, opened into a pit. It stretched until it felt like the gaping hole reached deep into his core, and the hunger tainted his soul with its need to feast. His teeth ached to tear and rip into flesh. He drooled at the smell of blood, fear, and sin in the air.
Alastor had always been a big game hunter. What bigger game was there than his former colleague and his atrocious partners? Alastor pursued his prey, hoping that eating the Vees would help ease this insatiable craving, as consuming other Overlords had done in the past.
It wasn't until Rosie arrived with the Princess that Alastor realized he had given in to his hunger. All the times Alastor had lost some control to the curse, he had never been so aware of the situation, and his powers had never acted this independently. He couldn’t stop the airwaves from reaching through the hellphones with a mimic of his voice. Alastor had no control over his body as it reached out for Rosie. He watched in horror as she came closer to him with the sweet, comforting smile she always wore just for him.
Alastor tried desperately to regain control, but it felt like he was beating against a thick, one-way glass pane. Able to see and hear the world, but it could not perceive him. As Rosie came within reach, Alastor felt his body move to take her. The last thing he recalled was a surge of his magic, a pull on his core, and then his world went black.
When he opened his eyes again, he felt full for the first time in weeks. Terror ripped through him. He jerked upward. The room spun horribly. His belly threatened to toss his meal and he was ready to let it happen. His last memory being of Rosie, but the taste lingering on his tongue did not match the coppery aftertaste of demon meat.
'Safe,' Ozul said softly. Alaster registered, a bit belatedly, as his vision still spun, the shade was petting his ears in the way it knew would help calm the deer demon. 'Home.'
Alastor shivered. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest and tried to steady his breathing. Once his vision settled, he realized they were in his new tower. His bottom floor to be exact. Split into a sitting area and the bayou he would never be without if he had a say.
The place was wrecked.
Much of the furniture had been broken. Books torn apart. Trees in the swamp were uprooted, or branches snapped. There were claw marks everywhere. Whole chunks were taken out of the grass in the bayou. It looked like a beast had rampaged through here. One had. He had.
He and Ozul had.
Memories slowly trickled back.
Ozul had stopped him from hurting Rosie and brought him back. The two of them fought. Fought for hours. Until Alastor ran out of magic, but the curse still wouldn't give. It would never give. Alastor had lost himself to it and there was nothing Ozul could do.
Alastor recalled Ozul's despair pulsing thick and heavy through their link. It didn't know what to do, and Alastor couldn't command it since his mind was gone. Buried deep within the starving monster he had become. With the last of their combined magic, Ozul had bound its charge’s limbs together and strung Alastor up in some trees before the shadow could no longer keep its form.
Alastor hung there, roaring and twisting to get free. The hunger had spread to fester under his skin. It infected every part of him until it was all he felt. He needed... He wanted...to taste blood and bone and meat and fear and sin. Sin always tasted the best. Each one had a unique flavor on its own, but he liked it when they mixed. Alastor wanted to drown himself in the flavor of sins. Gorge on it until he was sick, then eat some more.
He didn’t know when, but at some point, someone appeared. A person bathed in hellfire cut Alastor’s monstrous form free from the trees. Lost in his madness, Alastor blindly attacked the sinner he sensed nearby. Salivating at the idea of the mixture of flavors his mouth would be flooded with when he consumed this foolish, wayward soul. The sinner put up no fight and tasted so sweet when Alastor tore a limb off. The meat was like nothing the cannibal had ever tasted, and he immediately knew he would never find anything to compare it to again. Alastor passed out right after he finished his meal. The curse suddenly sated, and the deer trembled with exhaustion from the day’s string of events.
Alastor swallowed around the memory of that taste. He knew, without a doubt, who he had eaten. He turned his head to look at the only other presence in the room. Lucifer was lounging in the only undamaged chair, legs and pointy tail thrown over one arm and back rested against the other. Noticeably, the fallen angel was missing his right arm from the shoulder down. His oversized t-shirt hung off him in shreds. His sweatpants were smattered with grass stains and mud. His pale blond hair tousled about his closed eyes and pointy ears. The flickering firelight in the broken hearth cast an orange glow over his white, scratched-up skin.
How could he lay there, looking so unbothered after being Alastor's midnight snack? A well of unwelcome feelings surged from the pit of Alastor's core. Ozul curled around him further. Worry and unease about Alastor's reaction to seeing Lucifer fluttered through their link. The deer demon was starting to sense his shadow trusted the Devil. How much? Remains to be seen. Even a smidge was more than what Alastor wanted.
"That's three times you've saved me, Devil Dearest," Alastor said bitterly. Breaking the silence between them. Distantly, he heard the Devil's unique jazz music. Felt himself automatically tune to the blasted duck balanced on what was left of the coffee table.
Lucifer peeled one eye open and slid it over to Alastor. His smile sat crooked on his beaten-up face, a slight yellowish bruise formed on his chin and right cheek. Alastor felt a bit of smug satisfaction for getting a hit in, even if he hadn’t been in his right mind. "Yeah, well. Your friend Rosie gave me a good talking to." Humor curled around his words.
Shame burned in Alastor's stomach. He looked down at his red-colored hooves. Mud stuck between his toes. His pant legs were torn, showing the scars on his legs. Some were from his human life, a few from death, but the majority were from battles he survived in Hell. "Is she okay?" He didn't know how he would make it up to her. He didn't think he could. Until now, he didn't believe he would ever hurt Rosie.
Lucifer hummed. "She's fine. Quite the momma bear. Suppose she'd have to be to challenge me."
"She did what?" Alastor's head whipped around. His neck popped at the action.
Lucifer's eyes sparkled with mirth. "You heard me. I haven't lost like that in quite a while. Pretty sure there's a family who's got a golden fiddle from me as an heirloom."
"You better not have hurt her," Alastor growled, shifting on the chaise he knew was not previously a part of his sitting room set. The color gave it away, green with dark wooden finishings.
Lucifer laughed, bright and loud. "I never would've.” He waved his only hand dismissively. “I think I rather like her. Love what she's done with the cannibals.” He turned more on the chair to face Alastor. “We only talked, and she made some very good points, which is why I'm here. Rescuing you again, as you put it. Although, I don't remember saving you three times."
Alastor looked pointedly at the rubber duck with the antenna tower on its head. The wings were up as if about to take flight. A lovely slow song filled the room, mixing with the sounds of the bayou- Frogs, crickets, June bugs, and flowing water. "A place to rest," he reminded the other, "when my frequency becomes too much."
"Ah. That," Lucifer huffed, "you haven't used it since that night."
"I haven't paid for its right," Alastor replied whipishly. "And now I am in more debt." His eyes trailed along the Devil, taking in the details he missed the first time. A mixture of golden and black blood was on the fallen angel's clothes, nearly blended with the mud.
"I don't understand," Lucifer huffed. His small face twisted in confused annoyance. "You're someone who takes. Damn what anyone else thinks or wants. So what matters, this debt, Alastor? It's not even yours if we want to get technical. It's Ozul!"
The shadow perked up. Curiosity shimmered brightly through its jade-green eyes.
"That's right!" Lucifer spun around and stood. He brought his left hand around and ran it down where his right would be. As it passed, his right arm regrew. Part by part. Bones, then veins, then muscles, before finally skin. His clothes righted itself. In short order, he was standing in front of Alastor in one piece.
The room around them also returned to pristine condition—no evidence of Alastor's loss of control. The trees in the bayou replanted themselves. The branches snapped back. The missing patches of grass filled in. The books flew back to the shelves as their homes were stitched back together. Everything was as it was, leaving Alastor to wonder why Lucifer had left the damages alone for so long.
"Are you listening?" Lucifer snapped. He sat on the edge of the newly restored coffee table. His tail snapped about in agitation.
"No," Alastor told him in a rare bout of honesty. At Lucifer's indignant expression, he quickly added, "Why didn't you clean up before I woke up? Did you just want to show off again? Want to make sure I know my place?"
Lucifer's eyes widened. Several emotions flashed across his face before settling on weary amusement. "I was tired. I had to hunt through half your swamp to find you.” Lucifer gestured at the bayou, and Alastor decided he would generously educate this dolt on the nuances between swamps and bayous another time. The tiny King pointed at Alastor. “Then I had to let you take a bite of me. Since it’s the only way to settle the cannibal cure.” Lucifer crossed his arms with a slight pout. “So forgive me if I didn’t clean up right away after letting you EAT my arm and then drag your sorry ass, one-handed, out of the mud. Next time, I’ll leave you there until Ozul has enough energy to pick you up. Which, by the way," Lucifer leaned forward with a nasty sneer. “Wouldn’t have been for another two days since Ozul completely drained all your magic trying to keep your cursed ass contained. Do you know what that means, oh mighty Radio Demon?”
Alastor’s belly swooped uneasily as Lucifer waited for the sinner to answer. The Radio Demon was no stranger to pushing his limits. This was not his first, nor would it be his last dance with the cannibal curse. But, he can acknowledge things had gotten out of control, and he had been extraordinarily lucky Ozul was able to prevent Alastor from doing something he would regret for the rest of his afterlife. “You,” Alastor started slowly, brushing a gentle hand over the inky arms wrapped around his shoulders. “Feed it some energy.”
“As a reward for putting up with your bullshit,” Lucifer confirmed. “The poor thing really works overtime when it comes to you.” The little Devil leaned back on his arms with a thoughtful expression as he gave Alastor and then Ozul a once-over.
Alastor didn’t like the look. Tension built up in his shoulders. The shadow curled just a bit tighter in response to his feelings. He needed to change the subject. A thought popped up—something the King said that Alastor had almost glossed over. “Devil Dearest,” Alastor narrowed his eyes. His ears perked forward. “Did I hear you right? There is a cure for the cannibal curse, and it is you?”
For several long seconds, the King simply stared at Alastor. Then he stood and walked over to Alastor’s liquid cabinet. He poured half a rock glass of rye and then grabbed an empty rock glass. He returned, handed Alastor the rye, and sat on the end of the chaise. He waved his hand over his glass, filling it with the contents of a honey-colored lava lamp. Lucifer drank deeply from the glass before facing Alastor again.
The King’s eyes glowed as his heavy gaze fell on the sinner. Alastor refused to be cowed. He held his head high and reasoned if the King didn’t want to be asked about it, he shouldn’t have let it slip. This is his fault. Lucifer should know Alastor was curious by nature. It was a great source of entertainment, after all.
Lucifer licked his lips. Alastor leaned forward. “Yes, it’s one way to stop the curse,” he answered anticlimactically. Seconds passed. Alastor waited for more. A slow grin slid across Lucifer’s face. Alastor wanted to punch him. At least this time, he would be present for it.
“That’s all?” Alastor pressed.
“You asked. I answered.” The King shrugged. “The price for more, frankly, you can’t afford. Which is a wonderful little segway to what started all this.” He waved his hand with the glass around. “Let’s recap, you,” he pointed at Alastor. “Are not indebted to me.” He pointed at Ozul. “Ozul asked me to heal you. I did. This debt belongs to your shadow.”
Alastor bristled. “You won’t make a deal with me, but you’ll make a deal with-with something that can’t even exist without good lighting!” Said Shadow sagged behind Alastor, deeply offended. A thought accrued to Alastor. He asked with heated suspicion. “Or are you more willing to make a deal with something you created?”
"Not gonna lie. I didn’t create it to be this way," the little King gestured at the pair. "The spirit must have changed a few things after I handed it over. Ozul shouldn't be this powerful or even have followed you here. But here it is and a part of your being. Just as fundamental as your radio powers."
That was news to Alastor. "My mother gave it to me. She said it would protect me forever and always," Alastor informed him, "I had just turned fourteen. Around the time, I started hunting in the bayou near our home. She was worried I would be hurt by something there."
His mother claimed the bayou had more evil than good in it. But Alastor wouldn't stop hunting. It was the only way to ensure they could eat when food became hard to buy and continue trade with some locals. She taught him rituals then. To thank the animals for giving their lives to his family and the spirits of the bayou for allowing Alastor safe passage. He didn't always follow through with it. Still a teen, not seeing the importance until it was too late. Until the evil followed him home and took what he loved most.
Alastor pulled himself away from his darkening thoughts with great effort. More effort than it usually took. He found himself staring into Lucifer's knowing eyes. "Are you using one of your accursed abilities on me?" He accused hotly. Static thick in his voice.
"No," Lucifer looked down into the swirling colors of his drink. "Just being around me can cause a negative experience. Some people can't help but spiral. I'm sure you've seen it."
Alastor thought back to a few weeks ago. The Overlords incident and the moment with Vaggie. The usually steadfast girl seemed to plunge headlong into a dark pool of anger and self-doubt. Alastor has seen the little angel display those symptoms several times, but not to that degree or that quickly.
He's also heard Angel Dust talk about sudden feelings of worthlessness. Nothing new, but they've been cropping up more often. Other residents reported negative thought patterns that had the staff on their toes, looking to offer aid and redirect the worst to better, non-destructive alternatives. Charlie's daily affirmations were now a central part of everyone's mornings. Even if you didn't attend the group meeting, you would receive a 'you’re awesome and don't forget it!' text.
"Something you probably should have mentioned to Charlie," Alastor pointed out, his smile thinning until it pressed closed as near to a frown as he would ever get. His ears flicked backward for a moment before he caught them and forced them back into an upright position.
Lucifer looked at Alastor blandly. "She already knows. The therapy team takes it into account. Something you'd know if you truly cared about this whole redemption thing."
Lucifer waved a hand as if the gesture alone would dispel the topic. "We've gotten off track again. Your debt. Which is actually Ozul's–”
"And as you just pointed out, it is a part of me," Alastor interrupted, "so my debt. Now thrice over."
Lucifer looked about ready to throw his drink in Alastor’s face. It wasn’t often the fallen angel lost his seemingly infinite patience, and Alastor felt a bit of pride to be the one who hit the right button. The deer felt they were now on even footing, frustrated with one another. A petty victory, but Alastor would take any win he could get.
The Radio Demon would never admit it out loud. The Devil was a tough opponent.
Lucifer placed his drink on the coffee table instead so he could drag both hands down his face. "Why!" he shouted, throwing his hands into the air. “I don't understand. I offered you free healing and a place to rest as a thank you for helping Charlie and the hotel! I'm even willing to give this rescue as a reward to Rosie. Why won't you take it?"
Alastor looked at the inky arms wrapped around him. He should take it. He was being stupid not to take it. But when he closed his eyes, he kept seeing Rosie moments before he...Alastor shoved the memory away. It wouldn’t serve him any good right now.
Alastor took a moment to think everything over. A bit of quick self-reflection to understand where his reluctance was coming from. He knew it wasn’t from his pride alone.
He already had a deal with Charlie for his involvement to ensure the hotel’s victory over Adam’s army. Rosie was... well, he was always indebted to her one way or another, and she to him. Their relationship had always been an odd one. Hopefully, it will continue to be.
No. When Alastor added everything up, Lucifer remained. His debt to the Devil was too high to be waved away with grace gifted from others.
Alastor clenched his fist. Frustration weighed heavy in his chest. No answer he gave would satisfy the Devil, just as he knew no deal he offered would balance out their debt. He had been thinking about it for so long. He prided himself on being an exceptional deal-maker, but in the face of the original, he fell frustratingly short.
He realized he was starting to spiral. His thoughts curved into territory he rarely allowed his mind to journey. Self-doubt reared its ugly head. Disdain bobbed to the surface for his inability to find an advantage, something he was notoriously good at.
Alastor stood abruptly and moved away from Lucifer, vainly hoping distance would lessen the effects of whatever this ability was. It didn't. His thoughts turned worse. Speeding pass quicker and quicker. Until he was a bubbling cauldron of negativity. His hands twisted into the roots of his scarlet hair, pulling painfully until it felt like nothing but his bleeding skull would be left. His steps pounded against the wood flooring in his frantic pacing. His smile stretched until it stung, a grotesque slash splitting his face in two. His eyes darted about unseeing, too caught up in his whirling mind.
Ozul cried out in panic. Its own emotions overloaded Alastor's already full pot and spilled over. The shade’s words were lost in the barrage of noise from the demon's frequency, disengaging from the duck to scan through everything. Adding more and more sound to the overwhelmed, spiraling Radio Demon. Music, radio broadcasts, commercials, and static grew louder until it screamed through the room.
Alastor was going mad. He was falling into insanity. This was no better than the curse.
Suddenly, Ozul was gone. Their link snapped, leaving the deer alone to drift in the chaos. Alastor cried out from the loss. He spun wildly. In search of his shadow. His promised protector.
Forever and always, she said and promised. She wouldn’t lie. She never lied. Not to him. Never to him.
His frequency was being forcefully attacked. His first thought was Vox had come for revenge, but it lacked the Picture Box’s signature. This one was too warm. Too kind. Too sweet. It called for him to rest.
He pushed against it.
The toll, he had no way to pay it yet.
The frequency yanked him in anyway. His chest swelled with a deep inhale.
Lucifer kneeled in front of Alastor. The Devil’s bare hands holding the deer demon’s trembling ones. Calming warmth pumped into the sinner’s body, chasing away the chilling panic. A last hysterical thought of 'this was gonna bite me in the ass later' before the sinner’s mind forcefully settled. The skin of Lucifer’s black hands felt strange beneath Alastor’s fingers. Like smooth stone warmed by the sun. Cracked and broken were the gold scars cut across the knuckles and palms. Stretching down the fallen angel’s wrists and arms to disappear under his sleeves.
"Sorry," Lucifer smiled sheepishly, "just," he sighed, "let's just take a minute. I'm gonna let go." Slowly, he pulled his hands away.
The forced calm gradually faded from Alastor. In its place, anger returned, simmering below the surface of his skin. "That was terrible," Alastor grunted. I can see why you didn't want to stay." At some point during his episode, Alastor had collapsed on the floor. His knees stung.
Lucifer grimaced as he sat down cross-legged. "Alright. Let's try this again. I promised Rosie I would find a compromise with you. So, let's just," he swirled a hand in the air.
Alastor just stared at the little King incensed. He knew his eyes were dails. He could feel them ticking around and around. The white noise built, distorting the music from the radio duck so it skipped like a record. "What do you have in mind, Devil Dearest? Since none of MY offers seemed to please you," Alastor gritted out through sharp teeth. The yellow flashed like a radio grill as he spoke.
Lucifer watched Alastor’s ticking dails spin for a few seconds. "Yeah. Okay. I deserve that." He looked down at the floor. Thought for a moment. Nodded, clearly coming to a decision with himself.
"Stick with me on this. I can't give you all the pieces at this moment, but I'd like your help with something. Something... I've been working on for a long time," Lucifer explained. "To do this, I would like to offer you a companion style contract. Nothing nasty. Nothing you haven't done before."
"So, you want to turn me into your hired assassin?" Alastor grinned cruelly.
Lucifer ignored the question and continued, "you'll of course retain your free will. You can say yes or no to any request I make."
It wasn't really a loophole, since it was so plainly stated, but Alastor felt compelled to bring it up. "Then I could say no to all requests."
"It's no skin off my back if you do or don't," Lucifer retorted, "All that matters is the deal. And well. Do some of the requests and an opportunity you've been wanting may come along sooner rather than later."
Alastor raised one slender eyebrow. "And the reason you can't tell me all the pieces?"
"Is because of that opportunity, yes," Lucifer confirmed. "But I will warn you. Things for you might get worse before they get better and you might be left in the dark more oft than not. If you think you can handle it, then let's make a deal."
Alastor stared for a long moment. Should he be surprised that Lucifer knew what he wanted? Did the Devil actually know the circumstances of his deal? Alastor was a man of many wants and plans, but there was one thing he wanted most of all. He wanted his freedom. His soul returned, but his deal was not an easy one to break. There were too many factors. Too much could go wrong, and something dear to him could be lost if it all went belly-up. The question wasn’t if the Devil could do it, but how? There was always fine print, and Alastor’s deal was engraved with blood, bone, and a special ingredient he’ll never regret using.
Alastor chuckled. There was only one way to find out. "Not so fast, my dear King. First, I want to hear the details of this companion contract to the fullest." For the first time since Alastor woke up, Lucifer's true smile lit up the room like a shower of falling stars. The King’s eyes sparkled with delight.
"Sure, sure. I expect nothing else from you." He looked Alastor up and down. "Why don't you clean up first? I'll set up over there," he pointed back at the sitting area, "and have all the paperwork ready for you to review."
Alastor begrudgingly agreed. While negotiating in torn, battle-worn clothing was nothing new. A shower would help clear his mind, and fresh clothes would be lovely.
Ozul returned to him, supremely upset at being forced into its cage again by Lucifer. It understood why, but didn't like being manhandled.
'Apologize?' It pressed while Alastor worked the shampoo out of his hair.
Alastor froze mid-grab for the conditioner and stared at the shade. In all the kerfuffle, he had forgotten who had gotten him into this mess in the first place. He narrowed his eyes at the audacity of his willful shadow. "You have some gall after everything you put me through.”
'Helped. Save. Rosie,' it narrowed its eyes right back and frowned. An expression Alastor would never be able to show.
Alastor wanted to say so much too that. Point out how it would have never happened if it didn't… but he cut the thought off. He thought back to what his mother said when she first gifted Ozul to him, 'it will protect you where I can't. It will be with you, forever and always.'
"Yes," Alastor sighed, "alright, old friend. I can acknowledge you were doing your job to see to my well-being." The shade puffed up in joy, knowing that was the best apology Alastor would ever give. "However, you are to consult me next time you request the Devil's aid. Or anyone's, for that matter. I want no more debt."
Ozul laughed, 'No!' It disappeared before Alastor could argue further.
Damn the thing!
---
The clock read 3am. The King said Rosie could stay so she did. The others had left besides Charlie and her girlfriend who squeezed themselves onto the couch. Such a cute couple, Rosie was glad the two darlings had worked out most of their differences, although it looked like Charlie’s father was becoming a pain point between them. She could only hope the problem would resolve itself soon.
Niffty, the sweet girl, changed the sheets on the King's full size mattress. For royalty, he didn't sleep like one. Soft, sure. Plenty of pillows and blankets. It seemed the King lived by the motto, 'size didn't matter.' In a borrowed nightgown, Rosie was tucked into the small bed under the stairs and slept fitfully. She left the curtains of the canopy and the doors to the room open as they had a direct line of sight to Alastor's. The long hallway bathed in the glow of the Pentagram’s sigil and Heaven's planet far above.
"Rosie?" Alastor's voice, the rich one he hid under his radio static, called softly.
Rosie's eyes snapped open. Her dear friend stood next to the bed in all his red and black glory. He smiled uneasily. Ears turned slightly back. He had half a second to be surprised before she dragged him under the thick covers into a crushing hug. His ears twitched against her face as she buried it in his hair. Relief rushed through her. Her next breath was filled with his blend of spices and marshes.
"This is quite inappropriate," he whispered reproachfully. As always his words were at odds with his actions. His thin arms wormed around her middle.
She didn't ask how he was. He would never admit to a weakness or a moment of vulnerability. She pushed a hand through his hair. Scratched around his antlers and felt the tension melt out of him. "The King?" She asked instead of the hundred she wanted to.
"Upstairs. Probably making another one of his blasted ducks," the deer demon huffed.
"He made them? All of them?" There were so many too. Then again, the King was very old and needed a hobby or two. There were worse things to do with one's time.
Instead of answering her question, Alastor tilted his head up. His red eyes glowed in the darkness of the room. Weary amusement twisted the edges of his smile. "Did you really challenge the Devil to defend my honor? Rosie, I thought we agreed I'm the crazy one."
Rosie giggled softly. "We're two peas in a pod, Dearest. Did he follow through with his end or do I need to have another talk with our dear King?"
Alastor hummed as he settled against her again. His eyes drifted close. A soft piano tune fluttered into the air. "All debts are paid. Things will be interesting, Rosie. There'll be no lack of entertainment for a long while."
"You best count me in," she demanded.
The only response she received was Alastor's soft breathing and the gentle music he played whenever he slept. That was fine for now. In the morning, she would grill him for specifics. They would continue to swap favors back and forth as they always have.
Notes:
It took a while, but for those wondering, here is the setup for our RadioApple/AppleRadio foundation.
I might break out a few RadioApple/AppleRadio one-shots so their story has some room to breathe and doesn't completely get lost in the shuffle of the overall narrative.As always, thank you so much for all the comments and kudos! Even if I don't reply, I do read every single one. They are the highlight of my day!
Sneak Peek:
Emily groaned in frustration. They weren't any closer to solving the redemption problem since visiting Hell. And that bizarre clue Lucifer gave hadn't helped Emily find a single archangel either. They had tried being practical about it by following flocks of birds. The birds sometimes fled or, being so used to friendly angels, wanted snacks. When that failed, Emily searched for the shop Lucifer claimed sold his rubber ducks. Emily hadn't found it. Plenty of knick-knack stores. Some even sold themed rubber ducks. But nothing screamed, 'Hey! we sell the Devil's yellow squeakers.' Emily was at a dead end everywhere.
Chapter 15: A Light In The Dark
Summary:
Emily groaned in frustration. They weren't any closer to solving the redemption problem since visiting Hell. And that bizarre clue Lucifer gave hadn't helped Emily find a single archangel either. They had tried being practical about it by following flocks of birds. The birds sometimes fled or, being so used to friendly angels, surrounded Emily, thinking the seraphim had snacks. When following birds failed, Emily searched for the shop Lucifer claimed sold his rubber ducks. Emily hadn't found it. Plenty of knick-knack stores. Some even sold themed rubber ducks. But nothing screamed, 'Hey! we sell the Devil's yellow squeakers.' The young seraphim was at a dead end everywhere.
Notes:
I thought, why stop at one non-binary character when I can have two...in the same scene...talking to each other!
This chapter took so long to write and edit—probably the hardest regarding technique and execution.
I challenged myself on this for no other reason than because I wanted to see if I could.
In the end, I hope this all makes sense.
Either way, I'm happy I pushed myself and like how it came out.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The oldest and largest park in Heaven was a testament to the history of creation. Some angels went so far as to call it the First Eden, a testing ground where the angels in charge of the Eden project created prototypes of the fauna and flora that would eventually populate Earth. Nowadays, First Eden had been renamed Sima Park and served as one of the largest recreational areas.
The park was a mixture of weird, wacky, and beautiful. For Winners, there would be plants they recognized, like evergreens and sunflowers. Then there was something they didn’t know, like a tree that grew a small fluffy cloud that tasted like a banana or a bush that grew sparkling crystal grapes. If you wanted to see the strange animals, you’d have to hike deep into the dark forest of strange towering trees, where you might glimpse a unicorn, a lizard with wings, or a fish with a human face and a lovely voice.
Most heavenborn tended to stay out of the dark center. Instead, they took advantage of the many facilities added over the years. A lovely farmer's market was set at the park's north entrance. On the south side, there was a large community pool with many fun water slides and a kiddies' shallow area for children to spend the day. On the east and west, there were playgrounds and ball fields of all kinds.
Still, no matter which side you entered, every paved path would eventually lead to a dirt hiking trail as if encouraging park visitors to journey deeper.
Emily loved visiting Sima Park’s farmer’s market. Anyone could rent a stall, so there was always something new to see whenever Emily went. Winners made such amazing things. Where heavenborn angels could craft anything using the light of creation. Human souls had to use raw materials, but that didn't mean what humans made was any less impressive. If anything, Emily would argue that human art was more beautiful because of the time and effort put into the work. The seraphim’s room was full of all the wonderful stuff they had bought from the handcrafters, painters, and seamsters.
Today, the market wasn't holding Emily's attention quite as much as they wished. As Emily walked through the stalls, their mind remained on the recent meeting with the High Council. News of Adam's rebirth as a sinner had not gone over well. To make matters worse, Adam refused to meet with the Council, preferring Hell's representative to handle all communications. In this case, Charlie. Predictably, the Council had thrown a fit at not being allowed to talk with the First Man. Lucifer had once again stepped in and ended the meeting when things got...heated. Emily was unhappy with the accusations some council members threw at Charlie and the King of Hell. Bring up old grievances that had been handled during the peace talks. Some members went so far as to demand new terms be added to the agreements. When the Council turned on Emily, demanding answers to questions the young seraphim still could not answer about redemption or why Adam was reborn as a sinner. When the council accused Emily of...of..., Sera sat there watching and just listening with a blank look. Emily finally decided to take a page from the King of Hell’s handbook on dealing with unruly council members and walked out before anyone truly said something regretful.
Emily groaned in frustration. They weren't any closer to solving the redemption problem since visiting Hell. And that bizarre clue Lucifer gave hadn't helped Emily find a single archangel either. They had tried being practical about it by following flocks of birds. The birds sometimes fled or, being so used to friendly angels, surrounded Emily, thinking the seraphim had snacks. When following birds failed, Emily searched for the shop Lucifer claimed sold his rubber ducks. Emily hadn't found it. Plenty of knick-knack stores. Some even sold themed rubber ducks. But nothing screamed, 'Hey! we sell the Devil's yellow squeakers.' The young seraphim was at a dead end everywhere.
Emily looked up when they realized the stalls had disappeared and the paved brick road had started to narrow. The further they walked, the smaller the path became until it gave way to dirt. On either side of the path, corkscrew trees curled up, up, up. The branches created a natural arch over the trail as it disappeared into darkness. Just inside the arches of the trees was a worn metal bench with a faded wooden seat. Emily floated to it and sat. Dappling sunlight danced between the shadows of leaves shaken by the warm breeze.
Sera never let Emily explore this deeply in the park, and the elder would never tell the young seraphim why. It's just another secret Sera kept. Hot frustration swelled within Emily and caused tears to prickle at the corner of their eyes. Emily was tired of all these mysteries and runarounds from the council. At this point, it felt like the only ones willing to help Emily were in Hell. It was crazy. The ones most sympathetic, the ones most eager to aid Emily, were the same ones the young seraphim had been told all their life were selfish, destructive monsters.
When had the roles flipped? At the trial? Before? When Sera condemned a yearly slaughter? Were angels no better than sinners?
Emily sniffed and pulled out the rubber duck Lucifer had gifted. They held it to their chest with a delicate grip. It felt like their entire world was starting to break apart. Emily didn’t know what to do anymore. "I don’t understand," they whispered. “When did everything go wrong?”
The duck squeaked. Emily huffed a wet laugh, then startled when the purple rubber duck wiggled in their fingers. Emily pulled it away from their chest and watched with wide eyes as it changed. The rubber turned to feathers. The blank black eyes blinked. The halo flickered until it actually glowed. A six-wing duck took to the air and circled Emily. It quacked at the stunned seraphim. The rubber duck had never transformed once since Emily had it.
The six-wing purple duck landed in front of Emily on jet-black feet. The two stared at each other for a solid minute before the duck took off down the dirt path and into the darkness of the forest. Emily followed without a second thought.
The path was not as dark as Emily was led to believe at first glance. In measured intervals, golden light globes bobbed above the hiking path the duck flew down. Below Emily, tree roots grew over the winding path they followed. Large boulders lay beside the trail, worn and smoothed by age and visitors stopping for a break. Emily flew over hiking Winners who waved cheerily as the seraphim passed. The deeper Emily traveled, the more wild and stranger the vegetation grew. Unlike the well-manicured bushes in some of the other parks Emily's seen, the ones here exploded out of the ground. Vines tangled around branches. Mushrooms and moss grew along the barks of the twisting multi-colored trees.
Emily could tell someone had taken care of the woods. There was nothing that obstructed any trails they came across. No dead wood or dry leaves was covering the ground. The bridge they crossed looked well maintained, and the ropes and wood were perfectly kept with no fraying or broken boards. Colored signs with big blocky lettering clearly marked the trail’s difficulties and miles left to the center of Sima Park. Emily didn't know there were different trail types, but it would explain why the trail they were following turned rocky and steep.
Suddenly, as Emily reached the top of the incline they were following, the duck took a sharp left into a thicket of thin, drooping trees. Emily paused, unsure if they should leave the trail. A quack spurred them forward and into overwhelming darkness. The only light came from the duck or Emily's halo. The little seraphim conjured balls of light to help keep from running into things that pop out of the shadows. Flying became more difficult without clearly marked trails. Some of the trees grew closer together or vines hung in their way, forcing Emily to swerve this way and that.
The duck started to get further and further away. "Wait," Emily cried, flying lower to the ground, "where are we going?" The duck only quacked back, flitting between the trees and the shadows.
Emily heard it before they saw it. The sound of birds singing. The two burst into a large clearing. The sudden sun blinded Emily. As their vision cleared, their breath stuttered. A small cottage sat next to a small pond, but it wasn't the house that caught their attention. It was the birds. Hundreds of them. Scattered around the clearing. Floating on the water. Birdhouses and nests were in the trees and on pikes leading up to the cottage. Birds left through the top of the clearing and returned. Dipping and diving around one another in an intricate dance, Emily has seen angels mimic.
The duck quacked next to Emily. Its six wings fluttered for a moment before taking off again towards the cottage. Emily followed at a slower pace, taking in everything. The colors. The houses. The nests. The different birds that seemed to call this place home. The pond, a small lake, sparkled in the mid-afternoon sun.
"Hello there, little one," a voice said, "you're a strange one. I don’t remember seeing one of your colors around." The duck quacked frantically in answer.
Emily spun around to face...an angel? But they had no halo. That was the first thing Emily noticed.
The second was their features. Neither male nor female. More androgynous than Emily's ever seen an angel. The angel's midnight black hair was bundled in a low, messy bun that sat on their left shoulder. Their clothes were simple. A plain gray shirt with bell sleeves that stopped at their elbow. A pair of blue jeans rolled to their knees and a pair of thick boots made for hiking. Their skin was a lovely dark tan, and their eyes the color of honey.
The angel smiled warmly at the purple duck as it settled in their arms. "Ah, you brought a friend, did you?" The angel stood calmly, unbothered by all the activity around them. Though a soft tenor, their voice carried over the cacophony of the twitters and squawks. Their attention finally fell on Emily who stood rooted to the spot. "Hello, little Seraphim. To what do I owe this honor?"
Emily found their voice locked up. They opened and closed their mouth several times but no sound formed. The angel tilted their head thoughtfully. Their honey-colored gaze was soft as they did a once over Emily. "A problem, it would seem. Why don't we have some tea? And you can tell me all about it."
In a daze, Emily followed the angel down a stone path to the cottage steps. At least, it looked like a cottage, but as Emily drew closer, they weren't sure if it could be called a building at all. There were no windows or walls, but there was a floor and a roof. Emily could see the inside clearly, but there were no rooms. Furniture was placed in certain areas as if marking where the rooms should be—the living room here, the office there.
The angel led Emily through the space to where the kitchen would be. The duck hopped to the island in the middle of the not-kitchen. The angel filled a tea kettle, forming clear water from thin air. "What type do you like?" The angel reached up to floating wood planks, acting as shelves, to pull down a few options. Emily was too busy staring at the floating rack of pots and pans above what appeared to be a gas stove. Only the stove didn’t have a wall with gas connections or a ceiling to hang the rack. The angel chuckled at the young seraphim's baffled expression. "Do you like my home?"
Emily blinked. Pulling their eyes away from where there should be a wall or a backdoor to the cabin. Instead, it was an unobstructed view of the forest and more birds. "I've never seen anything like it." Emily sat at the bar in the center of the not-kitchen. A sink and a pale wooden countertop were on the other side of the bar top.
"And you never will again," the angel laughed warmly. "Far too abstract for those stuffy fools. They like rigidity and nothing screams that more than walls." The angel gestured at what would be the nearest wall.
Emily found themselves agreeing. The seraphim’s head unconsciously nodded before they caught it. Emily cleared their throat and looked away hastily from the amused eyes of the other. "I'm Emily," their voice shook. Emily paused. Shifted on their stool, hoping it might help settle their nerves. "I've been trying to find the archangels. Lucifer said if I follow the birds, I would find one."
"Lucifer?" the angel asked. Their eyebrows shot up their forehead. "Why would a sweet thing like you get involved with the Devil?" The angel didn't sound mad. They looked more curious.
The young seraphim had learned to be more cautious when speaking about their friends in Hell. Emily clenched their hands in their dress. "Who are you?"
The angel smiled ruefully. "A name! Right. Introductions. That is a thing people do. Oh. Hmm," the angel spun away to pull the squealing kettle from the stove. "Ori," they said, "I take care of everything here." They waved a hand at the scenery. "Do you like it?"
"I haven't been this deep in the park before," Emily admitted, "the farmer's market is my favorite, though."
Ori whirled around with a bright, excited smile. "The bazaar! Isn't it wonderful?" Ori clapped their hands together. "Humans have made such beautiful art. I try to stop by every week just to see what's new."
Excitement bubbled up in Emily at finding a kindred spirit. "Me too! My room is so full of everything I've bought, I'm gonna need another one soon."
"Just use a pocket dimension to increase your space," Ori poured the steaming water into two mugs that appeared on the counter.
Emily's mouth hung open. "I hadn't thought of that."
Ori snorted. "Of course not," they said. There wasn't any malice in their voice. The angel's smile turned playful. "You think too rigid." Ori slid a mug to Emily—the tea inside already steeped.
Emily stared into the mug. "Are you," they paused and grimaced. Rethought their question. They pointed to their halo instead. "I don't see."
Ori chuckled. "I keep them hidden. Otherwise, the birds think I'm another perch. Ever tried getting bird shit out of your hair?"
Emily's face scrunched in disgust.
Ori pointed at the seraphim. "Exactly."
"I'm sorry. I don't mean to be so suspicious. It's just. I've never met an archangel before. Everything I know about them," Emily fiddled with the handle of their mug. "They're usually doing important jobs."
Ori didn't look offended. If anything, the corner of their eyes crinkled with amusement. "Hmm, yes. The all-important jobs. No offense taken. I know my worth. Now let's help you with yours, little seraphim."
Emily swallowed. "I don't know where to begin."
The oven dinged. Ori pulled out several tins of baked goods. The archangel waved a hand over each one as they set them on the counter in front of Emily. Cupcakes instantly frosted with rainbow colors. Chocolate drizzled over croissants. Whip cream coated a pie. "Start where your head’s at. What comes to mind first?" Ori gestured for Emily to help themself.
Emily picked a cupcake and was pleasantly surprised by the light spice suffused throughout. They thought about where to start. "Sera," Emily said after a few minutes, "she's always keeping secrets from me. She didn't even tell me about the exterminations!" Old frustrations boiled to the surface.
Ori leaned against the counter and rested their head in an upraised hand. "Ah. That nasty business."
Emily huffed. "Nasty is an understatement. She and Adam kept it hidden from Heaven. And it would have stayed that way if not for my friend!" Emily jumped to their feet. "And now Sera won't even help figure out how redemption is possible for sinners. A soul from Hell was redeemed!" Emily threw their hands outward.
Ori gasped, looking as excited as Emily knew the High Council should have been when the news first broke. "Really! A sinner was rejudged?”
"Yes!" Emily cheered. "My friend Charlie opened a hotel to redeem sinners, and it worked! It actually worked!" Emily twirled into the air. The seraphim's halo glowed with their joy. "She's incredible," Emily gushed. "For the Princess of Hell, she is so sweet and so kind."
"What!" Ori shot straight, "Lucifer has a kid." Ori dropped backward into a seat that metalized with a disbelieving laugh. "That little scamp. Always doing the most."
Emily giggled. "I think that's where she gets it."
Ori's smile was tinted with sorrow. Even the air in the kitchen turned heavy. "I hope to meet her one day."
"I'll try and bring her here. The next time she visits," Emily paused. Rethought their offer. "If Lucifer lets her visit. He's still angry at us for allowing Adam to attack the hotel."
The heavy air grew hot. Ori's eyes glowed with something dangerous. "He did what?"
Emily quickly explained everything they could all the way up until Adam was reborn a sinner. Ori listened carefully throughout their whole story. The air cooled until it felt more like a cool spring breeze. The pastries slowly depleted, and the teas refilled a few times. Once Emily finished, Ori sat staring out at the birds. "That's why I'm looking for the archangels," Emily said after a few minutes passed, and Ori still hadn't spoken. "Lucifer said they could help me understand the Powers Above All. The, um, judgment system."
Ori chuckled and turned to the young seraph, but Emily couldn't understand the expression on the archangel’s face. Happy, yet angry. Eager but anxious, too. "I see why Lucifer sent you my way. He’s still being a little rascal.”
Emily frowned. “Should I not have trusted him after all?”
Ori waved a dismissive hand. “You’ve been working hard on your own with no help from those who should be aiding you. In a last-ditch effort, you reached out to the only archangel available. Even if he is fallen, I can hardly begrudge you for it.” Ori sat back on their stool and crossed their arms over their chest. “What Lucifer has sent you for…” Ori paused. Their gaze drifted to Emily’s. The gaze was heavy. It seemed to press down on the young seraph's.
"You see, Emily, God had a problem," Ori started again, their voice solemn. "He loved his creations too much and knew he would never be able to judge them fairly. So he came up with a plan." Emily leaned forward as if that would ensure they wouldn't miss a single word.
"As you know, he created a system. One that could weigh all of a mortal's choices in life. A system to ensure the souls went to the right place based on those choices. It wasn't easy. How do you judge all of one's choices? How do you ensure the judgment is fair?"
Emily nodded.
"Before Lucifer fell," Ori paused and closed their eyes, but Emily saw the saddest in them. Ori took a calming breath before continuing. "He and I devised plan after plan to try and create something unbiased. God was never happy with all the plans we drew up, but eventually, we came to an agreement." Ori waved their hand, and parchments of all shapes and sizes appeared all around the not-cabin—thousands of them. Emily couldn't understand any of the writing or symbols on the papers, and they could read every language that existed. Ori continued, "One important part of the system, no one. Not you. Not Sera. Not Lucifer or me. Could influence the system's decision."
"But," Emily followed a series of complicated formulas from one blueprint to another. "Lucifer said the system rejudged both Adam and Sir Pentious. It was retriggered to do it. Somehow. He felt it happened."
Ori nodded slowly. "That's where things get interesting." Ori twirled a finger. One palm-sized scrap of paper separated and floated in front of Ori. "Nothing says a soul can't be judged twice. So if a soul can tip their scale enough to trigger a...rejudgement. then-"
"Redemption is possible!" Emily leaped to their feet.
Ori chuckled. "But the problem is how to trigger it without death. That's what you're trying to solve."
Emily didn't deflate. The little seraphim was closer than ever to their goal. They finally talked to an archangel. And! There had to be something in these blueprints to help everyone solve the rejudgement mystery. "Maybe. Maybe if we give these to Lucifer, he can help us figure something out."
Emily looked at Ori, who was closely examining the palm-sized piece of paper. "I think he already has, Kid. Or he wouldn't have sent you my way. One thing you need to know about the Devil. He is always thinking ahead." The paper rolled up and floated to Emily. "That's one of the reasons God loved him so much. And the reason Lucifer was punished."
Emily felt their joy instantly sober up as they took the blueprint. "Do you," Emily squeezed the paper between their hands. They could feel the fibers from the parchment brush against their grip. "Do you still hear God? Adam said. He said God abandoned Heaven."
Ori burst into laughter. They curled in on themself in their own private joke. "God's still here. But I think most of the newer angels have forgotten how to hear him."
"How can I?" Emily asked. They had never realized they were missing that connection until now, but Emily knew it was there. A small hollow spot in their center where something should be.
Ori shrugged. "You open yourself, and you listen," was their cryptic answer. "I can't explain it any better than that. It was supposed to be natural for angels."
Emily sighed at yet another mystery. They would place it on the back burner for now. First came redemption. They put the blueprint in a safe place and turned to their duck, which had returned to its rubber form. "Can I come back?" Emily asked, placing the duck in their pocket.
"I'd like that," Ori smiled softly. "Feel free to come through there," they pointed at the clear blue sky visible through the clearing’s opening. "Bring Charlie too. I would love to meet her and learn more about this hotel of hers."
Emily easily agreed. Ori led them out the back of the cottage to an area free of birds. With one last promise to visit again soon, Emily left Ori and the birds. As they rose into the sky, a flock followed them. Emily tried their best to mark where the clearing was, but up from the sky, everything looked the same. Eventually, the woods gave way to the farmer's market.
By the time they returned home, the sky was darkening for the night. Emily's mind buzzed with everything they learned from Ori. They didn't know how they would begin explaining it to Charlie. Their friend would be so excited by what Emily learned and the blueprint! Surely, Lucifer could do something with it.
Emily swept into their home, glowing with joy. Now that they looked at their own house, Emily missed the fantastical nature of Ori's. They would have to return soon and make sure to bring Charlie along. She would love the strangeness of the cottage.
"Emily," Sera called from the living room, "is that you?"
Emily huffed. There were only two angels who lived here. Emily walked into the living room, preparing to say something. Maybe something about the meeting and how it went, but all that died on the tip of their tongue.
Sera sat in the modest living room. Her face schooled to neutral, but Emily could pick out her nervous ticks. The way she kept adjusting the skirt of her dress. The slight shift of her wings. "Emily," Sera's voice would sound calm to those who couldn't hear the slight wobble at the end. "This is the archangel, Saint Gabriel. He's been waiting for you."
God's Messenger sat primly across from Sera. "Hello," he greeted Emily, "I believe we have much to discuss."
---
Saint Gabriel puttered around the modest kitchen in Emily and Sera's home. Whatever he was making smelled so good it made Emily's mouth water. Upon learning Emily hadn't eaten dinner yet, the archangel had insisted they all eat while discussing business. Then he promptly took over the kitchen like it was his and refused help.
Emily looked at their sister. The higher seraphim looked as if she was having an internal crisis, though she was putting up a brave front. Emily could see her struggle. It manifested externally in the way Sera's hands kept rearranging the skirt of her dress. The slight twitch of her wings as if she wished to fly away. The building panicked behind her eyes that she kept forcing her calm mask over. The tick in her jaw as she clenched and unclenched it.
The silence seemed to be too much for the high seraphim finally. She pulled in a deep breath before speaking. "Did God send you, Saint Gabriel?" Her words only slightly wobbled with her nerves.
Saint Gabriel laughed brightly. "Michael did. Said Emily's been trying to reach out to us for a while about redemption and an ongoing project in Hell."
Sera frowned and gave Emily a mighty disapproving side-eye. Emily didn't know why. It wasn't as if they were keeping their activities a secret. "The council has been working with Hell to provide any assistance they might need with their project."
Saint Gabriel huffed as he tasted the concoction in one of the many pots on the stove. "Lying doesn't suit you, little sister. Otherwise, Emily wouldn't be seeking us out."
Sera's hands tightened on her skirt—the only sign of her displeasure. "Emily is enthusiastic with her approach. Sometimes they go a little too far."
Saint Gabriel burst into bright laughter. He turned around, his eyes glowing with eager joy. "So I've heard! A trip to Hell to meet the Devil. How did that go?"
Emily clapped their hands excitedly. "He was so nice! Not at all like the stories I was told."
"Don't let him fool you, Emily," Sera warned—a knee-jerk reaction judging by the grimace on her face. Saint Gabriel's smile dimmed slightly at the statement. Sera continued. Doubling down. "The Devil has always been cunning. You won't know you're in his trap until it's too late."
Emily felt their anger spike. "Are you referring to the extermination clauses?"
Silence fell over the kitchen, broken only by the sizzles and bubbles of the pots and pans. Saint Gabriel whistled lowly as he turned back to his work. He clicked off the stove and began plating the pasta dish he made. It was simple—a white sauce laid over vegetables, noodles, and shrimp. One bite had Emily gasping at the buttery goodness.
Saint Gabriel slipped into a chair across from the little angel. "Did he give you one?" He asked suddenly. Saint Gabriel twirled a hand at Emily's confused look and summoned a wooden duck carved to his likeness. The colors were somewhat faded over time, but the duck was clearly well cared for.
Emily smiled and summoned their own. They gently placed it in the middle of the table. Emily half expected it to move again, but the rubber duck sat lifeless. Its beady eyes stared at nothing. Its wings were frozen at its side, and its halo was a ring of black suspended above its head by a thin wire.
Saint Gabriel smiled softly at it, placing his duck next to Emily's with a gentle thunk. "Can I?" He asked. His fingers hovered over the rubber duck's halo. Emily nodded and picked up the wooden duck. It was heavy, like a paper weight. Saint Gabriel turned the rubber duck this way and that. "You knew he liked you if he gave you one of these."
"It helped me find Ori," Emily said, returning the wooden duck to the table.
Gabriel paused in his inspection. Carefully, he placed the rubber duck on the table. He breathed deeply before asking, "Did it now?"
Emily nodded, noting the change in both Gabriel and Sera's demeanor. The archangel seemed thoughtful, while Sera looked terrified. "Ori hasn't spoken to anyone in a long time. He likes to keep to himself and take care of Sima Park," the archangel explained.
"They're a he?" Emily asked. They hadn't wanted to assume. Ori's gender had been hard to pin, and the conversation didn't open itself to the others' preferred pronounces.
Saint Gabriel shrugged dismissively. "He. She. Ori's never cared. Gender only became important when humans came along."
Emily had to agree with that. They didn't tend to care either. Humans, on the other hand, seemed to care a lot. Heavenborn angels tended to choose their preferred gender or no gender if procreation wasn't involved.
"So you saw Ori. That explains why Michael contacted me," Saint Gabriel tapped a rhythm against the table. "Did he give you something?"
Emily grinned. Their entire body glowed in excitement as they summoned the blueprint of the judgment system and laid it out on the table. Sera choked on her drink in palpable horror. "Emily," she cried and stood up. Her hands hovered over the schematics. Large eyes racked over the calculations and symbols on the palm-sized page. "What are you thinking?"
"We finally have led!" Emily argued, keeping one hand on the paper so Sera couldn't take it. "Souls can be judged twice. If we let Lucifer look this over. Maybe he can--"
"Lucifer!" Sera shouted in dismay. "How can you not see this is what he wanted you to do!"
"He helped build it," Emily explained. Their eyes roamed over the page in vain, searching for the formula as proof of something, but Emily didn't understand the information. It was all too complex. "He might be able to find a way to help redeem a soul without death."
Sera shook her head. "He wants to change the system!"
"Ori said neither God nor the Devil can do that," Emily shouted in frustration.
"You don't know what he can do if you give him this," Sera snapped. Her power exploded. Her form grew large as all of her eyes opened up. Her voice echoed throughout the room. "The Devil is a lair! He has always sought to throw Heaven off balance."
Just like that, Emily understood. It wasn't that the council couldn't help. It's that they wouldn't. It didn't matter to them that sinners could be redeemed. All they saw was another way for Hell's evil to reach past their front doors, and Sera would do anything to prevent it.
If Heaven couldn't kill them, then Heaven would trap sinners in the pit they had dug themselves into. Throw the dirt on top and walk away. Ignore the bell ringing that said they were still alive and worthy of a second chance at Heaven's peace. The higher-ups feared change because they didn't know what would happen now that they knew sinners could rise and winners could fall.
While Emily was processing all of this, Saint Gabriel took the blueprint, rolled it up, and put it away in his little pocket. "Sit," he instructed firmly, gesturing with a fork at his plate. "Let's eat and talk."
"Saint Gabriel," Sera protested. "You can't seriously be considering--"
"I don't know anything enough to consider, Sera," Saint Gabriel interrupted as he spun some noodles around his fork. "That's why I am here. To understand."
Emily sunk into their seat, shaken by their revelation. Their appetite was lost, but they were too kind to let the food go to waste after the effort put into it. Emily picked up their fork and began to eat slowly.
Sera did not return to her seat. She stood her ground, although she did pull her power back. She arranged her hands and posture to the prim and proper Head of Heaven. "The archangels have chosen to stay out of Heaven and Hell's politics for some time," she pointed out, "I don't understand why any of you are deciding to engage now?"
If Saint Gabriel was displeased with her tone, he didn't show it. Deep chocolate brown eyes regarded the high seraphim underlined by a calm, friendly smile. He brushed long strands of brown hair behind his feathery ears. "You're right. And that was probably a mistake." Sera frowned. "It allowed you to get away with too much, little sister."
Sera squared her shoulders and held her head high. "I did what was right for us."
"You interfered with Hell. Imposed your will on them and killed millions for what?" His voice turned cold and hard. "To keep Luci as your boogeyman. To maintain your power? And now, when you are shown change can be made. You raise the bar that you have no right to raise."
"We don't know what will happen if we allow them--"
Saint Gabriel cut through her words again. "You're right. We don't. And you don't get to make that call. None of us do. That's the point. That's why they made the judgment system in the first place, Sera."
Frustration bled out, Sera. Her entire body shook. "Lucifer is up to something. If we go through with this, we could be playing right into his hands."
Saint Gabriel regarded her quietly. His expression softened. "We unfairly put too much on your shoulders. For that, I am sorry. From here on out, my siblings and I will handle the redemption process. You and your council can return your focus to maintaining Heaven."
Sera's mouth dropped open. Emily's head snapped up. "What?"
"Emily will continue acting as a liaison so you are informed of our progress. But from this moment on, you and your people are not to interfere. Is that clear?"
Sera stepped forward. Her mouth moved, but her words were lost in her shock.
Emily's eyes burned. Their heart felt moments from escaping their chest. Their cheeks hurt from the sheer force of their smile. "We're doing it!" Emily cried with overwhelming joy.
Saint Gabriel stood. His wooden duck disappeared from the table. His form started to fade, starting at the feet and moving up. "There's much work to be done. Come to this location tomorrow, and we'll get started." A small business card fluttered to the table. Emily snatched it quickly. Gabriel was gone before Emily could say thank you.
Emily stared at the gold lettering. It was happening. It was finally happening!
"You can't do this," Sera begged, dragging Emily's attention back to the dining room.
Emily turned to face Sera. There was a time Emily believed in Sera without question. Followed her orders without thought because Sera always seemed to know what was best. Emily knew better now. Knew the lengths Sera would go to keep secrets. Knew that Sera wasn't above bloodshed if it meant doing what she thought was right.
And that was the problem. It was always what Sera wanted. Sera had molded Heaven in her image without anyone realizing it. She had placed herself in the spot God had vacated, and everyone had stood by and let it happen because they were too scared of the alternative.
Emily held the address close to their heart. It hadn't been all Sera's fault. Someone had to step up. "You did your best," Emily said softly. "You worked hard and did what you thought was right."
Sera softened. Her voice was desperate. "Emily--"
Emily pushed on. "With respect for all you've done. I'm asking you to let me do this. Let me show you that this change is what's right, what we need! Not just for us but for Hell, too. Please Sera. I'm just asking for a chance."
Sera looked to the side and closed her eyes. "You don't understand. Why don't any of you understand? He made a deal with the Root of Evil. This is his chance to help her get into Heaven."
Emily sucked in a breath. They had heard the stories about God's opposition. Where there is light, there is always darkness. Born together. Locked forever in an endless war. Even now, angels still battle the Root's monsters on Earth. To hear that Lucifer, one of the first angels to have ever battled Root, would willingly enter into a deal with the darkness. Emily couldn't wrap their head around it.
"How do you know that?" Emily asked. Their words shook with disbelief.
"The apple," Sera said, "it allowed the Root into Earth. Lucifer gave the apple to man to sever their connection with Heaven. To cut them away from the light. The only way that could happen was by allowing darkness into the heart of man."
Emily shook their head and moved away from Sera, hoping distance would lessen the confusion. It didn't. Only more questions popped up.
"Please, Emily. This is why we can't let it happen. What if a sinner realizes they don't want to be here? Imagine the damage they could do just to return to the pit?"
"No. You're worried winners will realize they have a choice, too," Emily fought back, clinging to their goal.
"Then ask him!" Sera moved too quickly for Emily to get away. The Higher Seraphim grabbed her younger sister in a bruising grip. Words poured out of her, sounding half-broken and crazed. "Ask any of them! They know about the deal, too, Emily! Ask them how they'll keep the Root out. Ask Lucifer why he made the deal. Ask him what he gave up or earned in return for betraying us!"
Emily shoved Sera away with all their might. Sera toppled over a chair and hit the ground hard. They stared down frightened, truly frightened by Sera.
Sera crawled toward Emily, "Please. Please! We can't let him win!"
Emily turned and fled. They covered their ears, desperately trying to keep Sera's broken cries away.
Emily wouldn't go back. They couldn't go back. Something was wrong with Sera. Something was wrong with their sister, and they didn't know how to help her.
Emily flew to the first place they thought of. Tears streaming down their face. Heartbreaking. The door opened to big, kind eyes and a goofy, kind smile. "Missss Emily!" The snake angel said worriedly. "Pleasssse come in." Emily fell apart as she crossed the new winner's doorway.
Notes:
I am sorry I haven't been able to keep to the schedule I set.
Part of it is a lot of rewriting. The other half is balancing out mental health.
Gotta keep it fun for me, too, and the last few chapters have been really taxing mentally.As a bit of behind-the-scenes:
I usually try to stay two or three chapters ahead. Those chapters still go through a lot of rewriting and edit.
I keep a living outline document and adjust as I go along.
I know the story I want to tell, the challenging part is getting there.
Every character wants a chance to shine, but not all of them will get the spotlight.As always, writing is fucking hard. But OH SO FUN and very rewarding when you get the story out.
I'm looking very forward to the next chapter. Some Alastor and Rosie team up!
Sneak Peek
There were plenty of ways to go about it. His favorite was to steer a conversation. Pick the right strings of topics and have the others question another's motivation. It shouldn't be too difficult. In the wee hours of their morning revenge planning, Rosie had informed him that the motley crew was already somewhat upset with Lucifer after learning about the little King's involvement in Alastor's spiral. Tossing the spotlight back onto Lucifer should only take a few well-placed...