Haven’t been the same since I expired

by kitsunesongs

Summary:

Adam's blow kills Alastor, who wakes back in the hell of 1933. With his powers still bound by his deal, Alastor sets out to regain them - only to end up becoming the new nanny for Princess Charlotte.
That's alright though. Doing things the same way as before would be boring, after all!

Chapter 1

Hell changed with the times.

The Hell Alastor had fought Adam in – the Hell that he, as much as he hated to admit it, had lost in – was very different from the Hell he had first woken up in in 1933. It was brighter, noisier, more neon, and filled with annoying television screens full of advertisements.

And yet, when he peered out of the alleyway he had woken up in, it was the familiar Hell he had seen when he first died that met his eyes.

Also…

Alastor looked down at his bare body. The first time he had woken up in hell, he’d been so preoccupied by the differences in his forms – the height increase alone had staggered him, not to mention trying to walk with hooves – that the fact that he, like every new arrival in hell, was nude had been a secondary concern.

It was not a secondary concern now.

He snapped his fingers, focusing on his usual outfit – but nothing happened.

His eye twitched as his smile grew tighter.

So, his deal with the Root was still active. His power for his life. Despite the fact that he had made that deal seven years ago – or, if he truly was in the past, a good 80 years in the future – the roots still twined around his soul and locked most of his power away. The first time, he had dealt with it by relying on his shadow, which wasn’t technically his power, and by making a deal with Lilith, the Queen of Hell, for his microphone, which allowed him to channel some of his power through it. However, Adam had broken his microphone, and his shadow…

His shadow rose up and writhed around him, trying to help, as it had when it had drawn him away from the battle after – after.

One hand came up to his bare chest. There was no wound now, no sign of the blow that had – that had killed him.

Alastor’s grin twitched as his ears went back.

He had died. (Again.) Great Alastor, Altruist, died for his friends? Ahaha. NO.

The first time he had died in hell, it had been seven years ago. He’d been so dreadfully bored he’d stayed out during that year’s extermination, and one of the blasted exorcist Angels had snuck up behind him and stabbed him in the heart.

It was known that Demons killed by Angels stayed dead, but it was also known that their deaths leaked out something – their energy, their power, their regrets? Who knew. But it was the reason for the eyes all over hell, and some of the stranger parts of Hell’s environment.

Alastor had been stabbed, and bled out, and fallen.

And fallen.

And fallen.

And in the depths, he had discovered the truth. If the world was a tree, with heaven at the top and hell at the bottom – then there were Roots, that resided beneath hell. Roots of Evil, that had snuck in through the act of biting an apple.

Roo, who had been oh so amused to meet a little sinner who was strong enough and wild enough and in tune with the spectrum of radiowaves that made up her communication that he could actually talk with her and had agreed to a deal.

And then, to make a way around that deal, he had made another with the Queen of Hell – to protect her daughter.

Which had led to him taking on Adam, and his microphone had snapped, and –

And he was now in what he was almost certain was the hell of 1933, bare as a babe and having somehow travelled in time.

Had Roo done this? The fact that he could still feel their deal shackling him pointed to yes. Their deal had been for his life, after all. If he died, he was no longer a source of entertainment.

He was going around in circles. Heneeded to move on from this spot, but there was absolutely no way he was going to venture out while naked.

Which was, happily, when a large boar demon entered the alley.

Alastor smiled wider, though he turned away from the demon to hide it – and if it showed said demon a shy deer, clearly new to hell, who had a cute little red and black tail that Alastor usually hid – well, this was also part of hunting. Sometimes, deception was necessary to ensnare your prey.

And it was working because the boar demon had started to come closer, small piggy eyes looking greedily at all the skin that was on display.

Common knowledge was that prey demons were ‘unfortunates’, people who had only committed minor sins but still ended up in hell. The drug addicts and prostitutes and adulterers and thieves, rather than the murderers and rapists and cannibals. Weaker than other sinners.

Common knowledge had faded swiftly when it was revealed the Radio Demon, the one who killed Overlords and broadcasted their screams, was a deer. No one wanted to attack a prey demon that might not be a weakling unable to protect themselves after all.

The reason sinners were so scared of him was that Alastor could do what they could not – he could kill them. Permanently. Without Angelic Steel.

He had not been exaggerating when he threatened to rip Husk’s soul apart.

It had been an age since anyone had tried to attack him simply because they saw him as an easy target, and if the appearance of Hell hadn’t clued him in to the fact that he was in the past, this demon’s actions would have.

Alastor backed away, pretending to be unsteady on new legs as the boar huffed and smiled and followed. Now, the question was, did this particular demon want to eat him, rape him, or both?

“Hey pretty,” the boar snuffled out, which didn’t exactly narrow it down. This was Hell, after all.

Still, in the end, the boar’s intentions didn’t really matter. What did matter was that he had stepped far enough into the alley in pursuit of Alastor that his shadow could stretch out behind him, toothy maw grinning wide.

The boar screamed, but no one came to check on what was happening. This was Hell, after all.

~

The boar had been roughly Alastor’s height, but several times his weight, and his shoes were utterly useless as well.

It was better then being nude, but not by much.

Still, Alastor ventured out of the alley into the street, deftly avoiding a careening motor vehicle and snatching a newspaper out of the air as he did so. It took only a brief glance to see the date at the top of the newspaper.

December 6^th, 1933. The day he had died.

He had been right about the time travel.

Which left the question of what to do. He wanted to be free of his deal with the Root. He wanted his power back. He wanted to kill Adam. Possibly more than once.

And…despite everything…he wanted to, when the time came, become the hotelier of the Hazbin Hotel again.

Purely for the amusement, of course! He hadn’t been so entertained in years as he had been managing the princess’s little project!

Still, that would not be happening for a while. Right now, the only ones of the group that were currently in hell were Charlie, Ser Pentious and himself – and Charlie would be about the equivalent of a 13-year-old at this time.

There was, however, one friend of his who had been here even before he had, who, in that previous time, Alastor had first encountered when he was bare and barely able to walk and consumed by a new sort of hunger that had caused him to go on a bit of a spree.

Letting go of the newspaper and stepping around a couple of demons who were openly having coitus in the street, another couple of demons who were trying to murder each other, and a slug demon that was passed out and blocking the sidewalk, Alastor headed towards Cannibal Town.

Chapter 2

One of the things he liked so much about Cannibal Town was how it never changed. The lovely, homey, turn of the century town he was currently strolling through was almost the same as the one he had accompanied Charlie through, and it felt like a little breath of fresh air.

Wasn’t that funny? Previously, he had liked Cannibal Town because it was the same decades from now as it had been when he first arrived and reminded him of home. Now, with everything literally the same as when he first arrived – cars the familiar style, clothes that he would have seen on earth, and no annoying television everywhere – and he found himself missing the Hell of the future.

Well, some of it. He would be happy to have a complete absence of television for the rest of eternity.

Idly nodding his head in greeting to a small group of female cannibals that giggled after him, Alastor headed for a tailor that he knew of. While not his tailor, his tailor was not in cannibal town, and was more expensive than Alastor could currently afford with the money that had been in the boar demon’s wallet. Not to mention, as a newly fallen Sinner who was also a cannibal, Alastor fell under a particular rule of Rosie’s, which was that he was to be given help to be set up until he was on his feet.

Rosie cared for her people, and her people responded with care back. While she owned their souls, it was purely a matter of ownership, with her giving protection and help in exchange, and was mostly so none of her cannibals ever had to risk losing their soul to someone who might not treat them well.

It was Rosie’s deals with her Cannibals that Alastor had based his deal with his darling Niffty on.

The bell above the door rang as Alastor stepped into the shop. The tailor, a man with cannibal towns typical ashen complexion and dark void eyes (and, of course, sharp teeth) and bushy red hair stepped forward, long tape measure dangling around his shoulders.

“Pleasure to be meeting you, quite a pleasure!” Alastor stepped forward and shook the cannibal’s hand.

“My name is Alastor, my good man, and as you can see,” he gestured to what he was wearing, “I am in need of your services. While I do not believe I can pay the full cost for a full suit, I also bring a gift!”

A gesture, and his shadow deposited the boar’s remains on the tailor’s floor. The demon was still whole, minus his heart and some of his other internal organs, which Alastor had helped himself to after killing the man. This both ensured that the tailor knew that the one who had walked into his shop was another cannibal, and therefore not food, while also feeding Alastor’s hunger.

When he had first landed in hell, he had been struck by the hunger and gone on a rampage, but he was used to it now, able to restrain himself instead of devouring his victim whole.

The tailor brightened at the sight of the sinner on his floor and stepped forward, hand outstretched. “Lovely to meet you, Alastor! My name’s Dave, and I do most of the tailoring around here. Just let me take your measurements and I’ll get right to it – we do suits in black, grey, cream, maroon and red, pick your poison! Think you could get your shadow friend to put the pork in the kitchen for me?”

So nice to have someone reply with appropriate manners! This was why he loved Cannibal Town. “Of course! Would hate to clutter up your floor!”

With his shadow transporting the meat, Alastor was left to follow Dave the Tailor’s instructions of where to stand and move his arms as the cannibal took measurements, then disappeared behind a curtain to get to work on his new suit.

Relieved to no longer have to be so close to someone he couldn’t kill for it, Alastor took a seat, crossing one leg over the other.

Idly swinging his leg, Alastor missed his microphone. It was much more fun sitting and waiting when he had it to fiddle with. He wanted it back.

Which…he might be able to do something about.

The Root might have sealed his power, but it could not stop him from broadcasting, or from talking with a radio filter over his voice. This was because he was the radio demon. When his new body had been formed out of the dust of hell, it had had machinery in its bones, and vacuum tubes in his lungs. The Root could no more stop him from being a radio then it could stop him from being a deer – and a radio needed a microphone –

Alastor grinned in triumph as he pulled his microphone out of nowhere. It wasn’t the powerhouse it had been before that cretin’s blow had broken it, but it was still his microphone, and he happily tapped on the closed eye to wake it up.

Dave the Tailor stepped out from behind the curtain, red cloth in his arms, and held it out to him.

“Try it on!”

It wasn’t quite the same as his normal suit. Instead, it was a white shirt with a red waistcoat, pants and jacket, and a dark grey bow tie. The shoes were very similar to his old ones as well, with inserts specifically for sinners with hooves instead of feet.

It took a very short time for Alastor to put his new suit on, and as he did so his smile relaxed, becoming more real. You were never fully dressed without a smile, of course – but you were never fully dressed without clothes, either.

“Marvellous job!” he complimented, turning to face Dave. “I’d tip you if I had the change!”

Dave waved it off with a smile that showed his shark like teeth. “I’ll consider the meal a tip.”

Alastor nodded to the tailor, turned sharply on his heel and headed for the door – only for the bell above the door to ring as it was opened before he could get to it.

Rosie stepped into the shop.

Alastor froze. She looked exactly the same, and yet – she looked at him with those familiar dark voids, and smiled politely. There was no recognition in her eyes. Of course there weren’t, how could there be? They hadn’t met yet. And yet, somehow…it hurt.

“Hello there dear! Alastor, wasn’t it?” Rosie said, bustling closer. Dave the Tailor must have called her while he was in the back making Alastor’s new suit.

He should shake her hand, but he felt like if he touched this not-Rosie, this Rosie-who-didn’t-know-him, his skin would crawl from his body, so he held his microphone before him as a shield and nodded at her instead.

Rosie, being Rosie, immediately pegged his discomfort and didn’t try to get too close. Instead, she smiled gently at him, close mouthed, and gestured to the door.

“I’m Rosie, the leader of this town – how about we go for a walk, hun. Dave here told me you’re new, and as leader of Cannibal Town, I consider it my responsibility to help newly manifested souls understand the world we’re in.”

Soft, gentle, to a new sinner that presumably had no experience with hell. Soothing any discomfort or fears. Rosie was very good at what she did. She’d have been excellent at luring new souls into deals if that was what she had aimed for.

It was not. No, Rosie used her skills to help her people. She really was far too kind for hell.

“A walk sounds lovely,” Alastor smiled, and followed her out into the street.

When Alastor had first landed in hell in his first life, he had immediately fallen into a hunger rage and rampaged until he had been stopped – by Rosie and her current husband, a cannibal named Robert. She had beaten him down, picked him up, dusted him off and taken care of him as he had adjusted to his new surroundings and his new body and everything that being in hell meant.

Which meant, of course, that he had heard her gentle explanations of how Hell worked before.

(You’re not one of my Cannibals, she had said, but you are a cannibal, and so you’re welcome here.)

Alastor nodded along as they walked, nerves calming despite himself at the familiar presence and voice of his best friend. Mimzy might be his oldest friend, having known him when he was alive, and Nifty was his darling Nifty, but there was no doubt Rosie was his best friend.

Had been.

No, was. And would be again! He had become friends with Rosie once, and now he knew her much better than he had when he had first met her, so it would be even easier!

He was not going to lose one of his longest, oldest friendships just because some sloppy idiot and gotten a lucky blow and now she had amnesia.

“And what did you do when you were alive?” Rosie asked, making Alastor forcibly drag his attention back to their conversation.

“Why, I was a radio host!” he preened, excited as ever to talk about that most wonderful of things, radio. “And a rather successful one too, if I may say so myself.”

“Why, an entrepreneur!” Rosie giggled, one hand covering her mouth politely. “And may I assume you plan to restart this enterprise in our fair Pentagram City?”

“You would be correct.”

“And would you need any help to manage this?”

If Rosie had asked this before he had gotten his microphone back, the answer would have been yes. It galled him, but while last time he had been able to simply use his powers to build his tower, with the root entwined in his soul and supping on the well of his magic he was unable to so much as summon a doll to help build a radio tower, much less form it out of nothing as he had done before.

But now he had his microphone, and while he would eventually need his tower to properly rule the airwaves, he could build to that. After all, he had been there at the start of radio, been one of the amateurs taking radio’s apart to figure out how they worked and broadcasting from his bedroom before he had clawed his way to a professional posting.

He could do it again.

Also, he didn’t want to be in Rosie’s debt. Rosie might be his friend, but he was not hers, not yet.

“Thank you for the offer, but no,” he refused politely.

Rosie sent him a sharp glance out of the corner of her eyes that he only recognised from years of experience – one of the benefits of her all-black eyes was that it was difficult for most people to tell what she was looking at.

He smiled wider at her.

“I’m guessing you’ll also say no to a place in Cannibal Town, then?” She asked.

Alastor nodded. “Quite so! Your town is lovely, but I prefer a little more solitude in my residences. Also, as you have no doubt noticed, I don’t quite fit in with the rest of your people. I will be quite alright renting a room until I’m up on my feet.”

With what money? Why, with whatever money whoever tried to mug him on his walk through the city would have on them. It was an excellent way to pick up some quick cash, and he didn’t anticipate it would take long before his radio show took off and he was able to make money off advertisements.

The only question was, what would he broadcast? Music, of course, the weather, gossip, news – but last time his radio show had also featured his various…‘guests’, and, after they were dead, their screams. It had been great fun when he first came to hell to break free from the mask that living on earth had dictated and simply being his self, in all his murderous glory, and he had greatly enjoyed the fear and respect that came with being the Radio Demon…

For the first few decades.

That was the real trap of hell, Alastor thought. If you were powerful enough, smart enough, ruthless and sadistic and cruel enough, you could do anything you wanted – but unless you fell to angelic steel, you’d be doing it for centuries.

It was amusing, watching people run away from him in the street, but it was also boring – and yet, on his way to cannibal town, no one had done so. They hadn’t known he was to be feared.

It had been like walking the streets of New Orleans after a kill, knowing that none of the people around him knew what exactly it was that was walking in their midst. The wolf in – ha, deer’s clothing.

It had made his smile widen, and he wasn’t quite ready to give up that enjoyment yet. After all, if he wanted to regain his reputation – well, he could always do that whenever he wished.

Or at least, he could once he’d gotten his powers back.

For now…

“Well, you let me know if you need anything honey,” Rosie said, smiling closed mouth at him. “After all, you may not be one of my Cannibals, but you are a cannibal, and so you’re welcome here.”

Alastor’s smile hadn’t been so real in years.

Chapter 3

 

One of the benefits of being the princess of Hell was that you were, to put it frankly, filthy rich.

Usually, things from earth trickled down to hell slowly, but for Charlotte Morningstar, who preferred Charlie, things were different. As the Princess, her parents ensured that she got the latest fashions, the latest music, the latest foods – and the latest inventions.

So, needless to say, she had a radio, but in the years that she had had it, she had never listened to it.

There had been no point. There was never anything broadcasted over it, just static and white noise.

Until now.

“Salutations, listeners!”

With a giggle of excitement, Charlie wiggled in delight, disturbing Razzle and Dazzle.

“This is your beloved host, Alastor, and tonight we have a wonderful lineup of toe-tapping tracks that will have you out swinging on the dance floor in no time! Starting with Louis Armstrong –”

As Charlie continued her new nightly routine, outside her door Lilith Morningstar stepped away.

At first, when the radio had started turning on and broadcasting, Lilith had kept a close eye on what her daughter was listening to, ready to step in and remove the radio should anything disturbing be broadcast – but instead, it really did just seem to be a normal radio station. The host played music, gave the latest information and news, and even spoke about the weather.

And it made her daughter smile more then she had since they had moved out of the Morningstar Palace.

So instead, Lilith allowed the radio to play, and made a mental note to keep an eye out for whichever sinner this ‘Alastor’ was. It would make her daughter upset if he got snapped up by some Overlord and the show ended, after all. Lilith didn’t normally make deals for souls with sinners, but she would make an exception for her daughter.

Later, after the broadcast ended, Charlie, Razzle and Dazzle accompanying her as always, found herself sitting in a booth at one of Pentagram Cities most popular jazz clubs. Sighing heavily, Charlie moved her bangs, dyed black like her soul, out of her eyes and slouched down so her eyes were the same level as the table.

The reason this was one of the most popular clubs was because it was Lilith’s favourite, and she could often be found singing in it. If she was in a very good mood, and if you were brave and fierce and smart enough to impress her, she might even make a deal with you.

The dog demon that spotted what seemed to him to be a young girl, bored and alone, at one of the tables was none of those things. He didn’t even realise who it was he was now clearly making uncomfortable, or how close the two horned goat creatures that accompanied her were to ripping his throat out.

Alastor was almost tempted to let the situation continue, just so he could watch that happen – but this Charlie really was very young.

Alastor may have murdered more men than women over the years, but that was purely because his favoured type of prey was predators. Those who saw someone weaker than them and thought that meant they could take what they wanted from them. Usually, that type of person was a man, but women could be just as bad.

The one type of person he never killed, though, were children. Alastor didn’t have many morals, but that was his line. He was nothing like that man, who had taken pleasure in hurting Alastor’s maman and Alastor himself. Alastor may not like children, though the little ones of Cannibal Town were quite darling, but that didn’t mean he would hurt one.

Nor, it seemed, could he let one be hurt in front of him. And watching Razzle and Dazzle kill this sinner would very clearly hurt the far too soft-hearted Princess of Hell he knew.

And he had been in such a good mood! This particular club, with its walnut floors and private booths and smoke hanging in the air, reminded him of home. It would have made an excellent speakeasy, but of course there was no need for speakeasies in Hell.

Alastor headed for the booth Charlie and her bodyguard pets were in. Charlie was leaning back against the padded wall, both Razzle and Dazzle standing before her on the seat and clearly growling at the dog demon, who was stupid enough to ignore them.

“C’mon, little missy, how about a drink?”

Charlie was stuttering out polite refusals, eyes darting about for her mother.

The dog leaned closer.

Alastor popped up in front of him, making the demon draw back with a startled yelp.

“Hello there! Alastor, pleasure to be meeting you,” Alastor lied, “truly a pleasure. Are you aware that the young lady is far too young to be drinking?”

He sat down in the booth in the seat next to Charlie, blocking her off from the dog, crossing his legs and laying his hands along the top of his microphone as he smiled brightly up at the dog demon.

If it had been the time he left, the demon would undoubtedly have recognised him, blanched, and fled muttering apologies. In this time however, things were much more amusing, because the moron who thought it was a good idea to harass the princess of hell while her mother was in the same room got angry at Alastor.

How fun!

“Who are you?!”

“Alastor, were you not paying attention?” Alastor scoffed, his shadow swirling around his feet, waiting.

All it would take was one more rude comment, and the dog would be disappeared into the shadows below him – but it wasn’t the dog that spoke next.

“You’re the radio man!” Charlie gasped from behind him, beaming. Alastor’s ears perked up as he turned to face her. “The one who broadcasts every night!”

Alastor’s smile became more real, as he preened at this. “You listen to my radio show? How wonderful! Always delighted to meet a fan!”

This was interesting! And new! His Charlie had known of him, but she had never listened to his show. Probably put off by all the torture and screaming, the poor dear –

The torture and screaming that he hadn’t included this time. So that was why.

Alastor beamed. A consequence! One he hadn’t foreseen! And a beneficial one at that! How lovely.

“I am! I’m a huge fan, I love your shows, I listen every night!” Charlie was practically vibrating. Razzle and Dazzle had calmed down and sat curled up together on her lap, and the demon that had been bothering her was forgotten – which he, in his stupidity, took as a reason to get angry, rather than an excuse to run away.

“Don’t ignore me you –” A delicate hand with long, purple fingernails curled over the dog demon’s shoulder. Paling, he turned and looked up – into the incredibly unamused face of the Queen of Hell.

Alastor ignored the commotion of the dog demon being picked up and literally thrown from the club. He would find that he wouldn’t be allowed back in and would undoubtedly find that many such places were barred to him from now on, as Lilith pulled strings to punish one who had upset her daughter. But that wasn’t important.

What was important was that the Queen was sitting down across from him and Charlie, and with a wave of her hand a barrier formed around the booth.

“Are you alright Charlie?” Lilith asked, heavy lidded purple eyes scanning over her daughter’s frame.

Charlie did not react the way Alastor was used to. Rather than nodding brightly or beaming, or even getting nervous at the parental attention, Charlie huffed and rolled her eyes, slumping down in her seat.

Alastor blinked. Considering her attitude, and the dyed black streak in her hair…was this Charlie’s – oh, what was the term? Ah yes! ‘Emo Phase’?! Though that term didn’t exist yet.

The princess was a trend setter it seemed!

Lilith was apparently used enough to her daughter attitude that she was able to translate her huffy silences, as she relaxed a smidge and smiled at her daughter.

“Charlie, your new friend and I need to talk privately for a little while. How about you go have a turn on the piano?” Lilith said, tone making it very clear that while it was couched gently, it was not a request. Charlie grumbled but started to move.

Alastor slid out of his seat and turned to hold out a hand to Charlie, helping her slide out of the booth, before retaking his place and eyeing the woman sitting composed across from him.

Red eyes met purple.

With a click of her long fingers, Lilith summoned two glasses of red wine to the table. Alastor reached for the one closest to him and swirled it around, sniffing delicately before taking a light sip.

It was delicious.

“You have excellent taste in wine, my dear!”

Lilith nodded regally, accepting the compliment as her due, before putting her glass to the side and leaning in.

Time to get down to business then.

“First of all, I’d like to thank you for stepping in back there. Charlie is very important to me.”

Alastor waved it off. Certainly, he could have used the official gratitude of the Queen of Hell – but for something as small as what he had done? And for some reason, the thought of using Charlie like that left a bad taste in his mouth. Like bad meat.

“Any gentleman could hardly do less. Although I must say, leaving her alone bar for two creatures that, while they can act as bodyguards, are hardly intimidating, doesn’t seem like the brightest idea.” Alastor smiled sharply at the woman who had, in another timeline, abandoned her daughter for seven years and never contacted her again, even via telephone.

Lilith simply raised one well-groomed eyebrow at him in response.

“Not many people would dare to speak to me that way,” she mused.

Not many people would dare to drop a piano on her husband’s head either, but Alastor had done that approximately five minutes after meeting him while singing about how he’d be a better father for his daughter.

He simply broadened his smile at her in response.

Lilith took that for the answer it was and nodded to herself, eyeing him. “You are not wrong.”

“I’m right about a lot of things! Care to be more specific?”

“About Charlie. While its fine when she’s with me, I can’t always be there with her. She needs a companion, more then just Razzle and Dazzle – but any imps or hellborn would be weaker than any sinners who might try and hurt her, and the Sins and Goetia are too busy. Not to mention the politics.” She sighed.

“The obvious answer is than to find a sinner demon to be with her,” Alastor mentioned, getting an inkling of what she was going for.

Lilith nodded. “But for it to be a sinner, I would have to be able to trust them with my daughter. The fact that she likes you is already in your favour, but I have to know – Alastor, what sins did you commit to be sent to hell?”

Alastor didn’t even contemplate lying. Smile widening, he leaned in closer. “My dear – I was a serial killer!”

The best thing about being in hell, after all, was that he was free to be himself. Lilith narrowed her eyes at him. “Oh? And what sort of people did you kill?”

If the answer was anything along the lines of ‘little girls’ Alastor suspected he would be very dead very soon. Fortunately for his lifespan, he had never harmed a little girl in his life – or afterlife.

No, instead, his preferred prey had been –

“I would find rich white men who thought that because they were rich white men they could harm those who were none of those things. Men who thought they were invincible – and I enjoyed showing them that they weren’t,” Alastor whispered to her, eyes shining with bloody light. Then he leaned back and shrugged. “Also, the occasional woman. White, rich women can sometimes be just as bad.”

“And you don’t regret it?”

“Not in the slightest!”

And he didn’t. If his little time travel incident had taken him back when he was alive, the only thing he would have done differently was make sure he wasn’t killed by that stupid hunter. He’d been killing for over a decade by then and would happily have continued for even longer! But oh well.

For some reason, that brought a flicker of approval to Lilith’s eyes. “Good. Defiance against the rules of heaven should never be regretted. So then, I suppose the only thing left to do is give you my offer – you give me your soul and become Charlie’s minder, and I will take care of you. You’ll be protected, both from other demons and from exterminations, you’ll be provided with appropriate food clothing and shelter, you will be paid – we can sketch out the details of that later –”

“I’m afraid I can’t agree to that,” Alastor interrupted. He wouldn’t, even if his soul was his to sell – but he thought it best not to mention that. Instead, he held out his hand and touched hers, letting her feel the deal that was wrapped around his soul, the Roots feeding on his power.

Lilith frowned. “You…how long have you been in hell?”

“A few months,” Alastor shrugged.

“But – this deal is years old.”

“So it is!”

Lilith met Alastor’s eyes, seeming to understand that she would get no more out of him then that. She sighed. “That’s frustrating. I really do want to hire you, but not without some sort of leash.”

Alastor leaned forward, grin widening in anticipation. “Well, that’s easy enough to fix, my dear! When you felt my deal did you feel what it was doing? My powers are bound. That’s actually why I came here in the first place – to make a deal with you for some way around it. All we need to do is make it so that if I ever betray or harm Charlie, the deal is off and my power is bound again, and I would be happy to be the young princess’s minder!” Not just her minder. Alastor had spent the last sixth months with an older Charlie, and so he knew – she knew nothing about how Hell really worked. She had no training, no experience, and let demons much weaker than her walk all over her. She didn’t just need a bodyguard, or a friend. She needed guidance – guidance he had already been providing. To do so again, with an even younger and more malleable Charlie – well it would hardly be a hardship!

Alastor had worked his way up to his position as an overlord, and before that he had worked his way up to his position as a radio host. He had been a busboy, and a bellhop, and a cleaner. He had stood and smiled in the face of arrogant assholes who thought they were better because they were born into privilege, or because their skin was whiter then his. He knew the power and the worth of positions that others would consider ‘lesser’.

If he was going to do this, he wasn’t just going to be Charlie’s bodyguard, or minder, or even her friend.

It was time the Princess of Hell got a nanny.

They discussed the details a little more, eventually coming to an agreement. Lilith would work her magic on his microphone, allowing him to access his powers again – and, to ensure Charlie’s safety, he would also be able to access some of Lilith’s powers as well. If he was ever overpowered and his microphone destroyed, Lilith would feel it and be able to teleport to his location to presumably save her daughter.

Not that he had any intention of ever allowing what had happened with that angelic oaf to ever happen again!

But just in case.

Eventually, the terms were good enough for them both, and their hands met – and Alastor smiled as he felt the power rush down his spine.

Good to be back on the air!

Chapter 4

Charlie was sulking. How adorable!

How hilarious.

Lilith had called Charlie back to the table after they had shaken on their deal, and then left to go back to her performance, leaving the two of them to ‘get to know one another’.

Charlie had taken the news that her new acquaintance was now her new nanny badly and was pouting and determinedly ignoring him.

Well that just wouldn’t do.

“Would you like to head somewhere else Charlie?” Alastor asked, kicking his feet and leaning forward and resting his chin on his hands, head cocked to one side.

“But Mom said to stay here?” Charlie flustered, somehow – despite all her teenage angst and rebellion – unable to contemplate not obeying her mother’s orders. Alastor grinned wider.

“Yes, but would you like to know a secret, my dear?” Alastor leaned closer. “I don’t work for her. I work for you. So, I ask again. Would you like to leave, and head somewhere else? I know a great spot!”

Charlie hesitated, but then her face gained the look Alastor was familiar with. The look of stubborn determination, the look that said she was going to do what she thought was right regardless of the people who laughed at her.

A few minutes later, they were out of the club and on hell’s streets.

Charlie wasn’t used to walking hell’s streets. Normally, when she went somewhere that wasn’t the palace or their new mansion, it was with her mother in the limo with an imp driver.

Needless to say, Alastor kept close by her side, occasionally shooting scary glares at a demon that lingered too long on them or sending his shadow to remove the occasional sinner that thought to test their luck.

Charlie was looking around wide eyed. She wore a black dress with puffy lace sleeves, and black boots, and her blonde (with a streak of black in the bangs) hair was loose and fell around her face.

It was a perfectly fine dress, but it wouldn’t do for where they were going.

Time to test out his newly returned powers.

Grabbing Charlies hand and giving her a twirl, as she twirled he waved a hand over her head, changing her dress into a flapper’s gown, bright with sequins and fringes, with a rope of pearls dangling down. Her hair was twisted up and styled into a fashionable bob, and he added a headband with a set of small, branching antlers decorating it.

Alastor himself had changed into a tophat and tails.

Charlie gasped, delighted, and span in a small circle, looking down at her new dress as it spun around with her. “It’s so pretty!” she looked up at him, beaming, any hint of teenage angst wiped from her face.

He was reminded of when he had sung with her, that first meeting, and how she had embraced the song and danced with him, bopping happily along to the music.

“I’m glad you like it my dear! Where we are going, you must be properly attired!” He bowed, and offered her his arm, which she took with a grin.

“Where are we going?”

“Right here!” he stopped and took his hat off to wave at the small club they stood before.

Above the door, in bright lettering was the word Mimzy’s.

He hadn’t been to see his friend in this timeline yet, so the last time they had met had been when he had had to force her to leave after her antics damaged the hotel. At least, for him.

For her, the last time they had met had been in 1928, when she’d been going down for owning a speakeasy and her connections with gangsters.

Mimzy’s club couldn’t have been more different than the club they’d just left. As to be expected of a club that often-featured Hell Royalty, the previous establishment had been large, grand, with velvet seats and excellent drinks and gold-plated doorknobs.

Mimzy’s was a more working-class establishment, reminiscent of the clubs they’d gone to when they were alive – including the one she had created out of blood sweat and tears.

Before it shut down with her execution.

It was small, a bit cramped, with rough floorboards – but the music was loud and joyous, and Mimzy was in her element up on the stage, prancing across it while belting out her favorite tunes and leaving her band mates in the dust.

Alator grinned at the familiar sight and brought Charlie over to the bar.

“A rye whiskey, neat, and a soda for the little one.”

Fortunately, Charlie was too busy turning her head in every direction to catch sight of all the sinners either happily dancing on the dancefloor, or drinking at the bar, or chatting against the walls, to protest either the soda instead of an alcoholic drink, or being called little.

“And a martini for Mimzy when she finishes her set, courtesy of Alastor, thank you.”

The bartender nodded, and Alastor turned to Charlie. “Well? What do you think?”

She turned to him with starry eyes. “It’s amazing! I want to dance!”

Alastor laughed. “You may! DO you know how to swing dance?”

Charlie flushed and shook her head. She had been taught ballroom dancing, for the balls and parties her mother and father threw, but that was all.

“Well, that won’t do. I will teach you! Someone named Charlie simply must know how to do the Charleston! But we have to wait until I introduce you to Mimzy – she’s an old friend from when I was alive. She’s the one currently bringing the house down from the stage, and the owner of this establishment.”

Said owner of the establishment had finished her set and received her drink form the bartender and was now looking his way. Alastor raised a hand and waved, and Mimzy’s face lit up.

“Alastor? Alastor! It’s you! You’re here! Well, of course you are where else would you have ended up – but here! Now! What happened, did you get the chair? Was it that Great Depression thing I heard about?”

Mimzy pounced in a whirl of fringed skirts and a cloud of perfume, wrapping her arms around him. Alastor laughed and hugged her back.

“Neither, my dear – if you can believe it, it was an accident! Some idiot thought I was a deer, and then - well, then I ended up here.”

“A deer?!” Mimzy gasped, before her eyes darted up to his ears and antlers. Alastor sighed in fond exasperation as she started to giggle.

Eventually, Mimzy had enough of laughing at his expense, and turned to Charlie, taking in how young she was.

Children, even young teen’s such as Charlie, were not exactly a common sight in hell after all, and most of the ones that were, were obviously hellborn. Charlie was clearly not an imp.

“And who is this – so young to end up here? What happened?” Mimzy was half genuinely empathic at whatever poor fate she imagined had befallen this young girl, and half eager for gossip.

Charlie froze at being addressed. “Uh – ah? Oh, no, I’m not a sinner – I mean, I’ve never died…” she shot Alastor a desperate look, and he obligingly stepped in.

“Young Charlie here is hellborn Mimzy. May I present to you Princess Charlotte Morningstar, Princess of Hell?”

Mimzy gasped, and immediately gave a rather excellent curtsy while shooting Alastor a glare.

“You didn’t mention we was in mixed company mister!”

Alastor simply grinned at her. “I am the Princess’s new nanny, my dear – I thought it fitting that she see more of her people then simply the powerful ones.” Mimzy shot him a sharp look at that. Mimzy, like himself, knew the power of the position he had wormed his way into.

“Not to mention, the Princess’s education has been shamefully neglected – she doesn’t know how to swing dance!”

Mimzy gasped in half real horror.

“Well that won’t do, that won’t do at all! C’mon doll, I’ll teach you – the only one better than me at dancing is this fellow over here!” She elbowed Alastor, before grabbing Charlie’s hand and dragging her onto the dance floor.

When it was time to go, Charlie was flushed and laughing, and Alastor was satisfied.

When they returned to the mansion Charlie called home, he would make her his mother’s Jambalaya. After all, the Princess was a growing girl! She needed nourishment.

~

The next few weeks passed peacefully, and the Princess and her new nanny quickly developed a routine.

Alastor would wake up before his charge and make breakfast, the smells wafting through the mansion and beckoning a yawning, blurry eyed and messy haired Charlie to the breakfast table.

After breakfast, he would do her hair (reminding him of early mornings where he’d do his mother’s hair), she’d get dressed, and he’d accompany her to her lessons.

Charlie’s tutor was an aged Ars Goetia named Beleth, and his lessons focused almost entirely on hell, its politics, its geography, its history, its flora and fauna…and mathematics.

He was an excellent tutor for the things he was teaching, but there were also things he didn’t teach.

Magic. Debate. Eloquence. Leadership.

Anything to do with Sinners. Anything to do with Earth.

So many gaps in her education! Gaps the perfect size for Alastor to squeeze himself in.

And so, after Charlie’s morning lessons, Alastor would take her out.

Sometimes it was to Cannibal Town, where Rosie had taken to Charlie as quickly as she had in the time that now no longer existed. Sometimes it was to Mimzy’s, where Mimzy and Alastor would team up to teach Charlie various dances. Mimzy had been different, he’d noticed. She hadn’t asked him for help once, and she’d had opportunity to – they’d been attacked once by some demons Mimzy had pissed off by throwing them out of her club, but Mimzy had, rather than hide behind Alastor’s back, stood in front of him – and dragged Charlie forward and informed them of who she was.

Charlie, he was pleased to see, had risen to the occasion. She had looked behind her at where Mimzy and Alastor were, then towards where the invading demons were hesitating, and had drawn herself up and announced, in a voice that Alastor had been hesitantly pleased to recognise as a mixture of Lilith’s tone and his own that she was the Princess of Hell, and that this club was under her protection, so the invaders could leave now. Please.

Alastor hadn’t even need to bring out the scary shadows and glowing eyes behind her to convince the puny demons to start running away. She’d done it all on her own!

This feeling – it was pride. Just as he’d felt when she’d convinced the Cannibals to follow her.

And Mimzy – Mimzy wasn’t acting anything like she’d used to. She’d stood in front of him. It took him a while to realise why.

He wasn’t the radio demon anymore. He was just Alastor, her friend - a friend who was, as far as she knew, newly arrived in hell, and therefore weaker than her. And so, rather than seeking his protection, she had acted to protect him.

It had him thinking that evening as he carried the two plates full of gumbo he had made to the dinner table.

He entered the dining room, and stopped.

At the long table, where there was usually only Charlie sitting waiting for him, there was another figure.

At the head of the table sat Lilith.

Chapter 5

Lilith turned her head and smiled at him. “Ah, excellent, dinner is here. I hope you won’t mind my intrusion, but I’ve been smelling something delicious from here every night for the past few weeks, and I couldn’t help my curiosity.”

Bullshit.

Oh, he had no doubt she also wished to have some of his cooking – he was fully aware of how good his food is, having learned from his mother – but the real reason she was here was to interrogate him and check on her daughter.

Good. He’d been starting to get – not worried, of course, he didn’t care enough about Charlie to worry over her, goodness no – aware of the possibility that his charge might have grown up with two neglectful parents. While that would make things even easier for Alastor to worm his way in to Charlie’s good graces, especially considering he had much more experience with what a good mother acted like than a good father, the thought of it was unpleasant.

Alastor shot the Queen of Hell a smile that said he absolutely did not believe her, and sent his shadow back towards the kitchen to make her up a plate as he placed Charlie’s on her place and sat down with his own.

Charlie had completely missed out on all the undertows of the conversation and, having taken her mother at her word, was now enthusiastically telling her all about the various meals Alastor had made her over the past few weeks and how delicious they were.

Lilith apparently agreed with Alastor that meals were important and not to be disrupted by complicated talk, because while she complimented his cooking and gently quizzed Charlie on where she went during the days with Alastor, she didn’t bring up anything more.

Charlie, Alastor noticed, looked ecstatic. He wondered what had caused it. That her mother was here, paying attention to her? Or that her mother was here and interacting with him, as well? Charlie was a very lonely child, even lonelier than she had been when she had been an adult – at least then she had had Vaggie and Angel Dust, and he had brought in Husker and Nifty, and then Sir Pentious and his Egg Boi’s had become residents. Now? She only had Razzle and Dazzle, who could not talk, her mother, who was busy, her father who was absent – and Alastor.

Really, it was too easy. He was shocked that in the past-future, no one else had done what he had done and wormed their way into the Morningstar family. Instead, Charlie had been left alone until he had come and wormed his way in to Charlie’s little hotel family.

(And DiEd-)

After dinner, Charlie was full and starting to yawn, and so was sent up to bed with Razzle and Dazzle accompanying her, leaving Alastor and Lilith alone at the table.

The Queen of Hell snapped her fingers and manifested a bottle of red wine and two glasses.

“She’s doing well. I haven’t seen her this happy in years,” Lilith said, pouring them both a glass of the wine and gently pushing one towards Alastor.

Alastor smugly accepted the wine and the compliment. “I’ve been taking her out to meet her subjects – and teaching her to dance as well. She likes dancing to the songs I broadcast over the radio just as much as she likes the live music!” Charlie had good taste.

“That sounds interesting,” Lilith said, seemingly honestly. “I don’t know much about radio myself, but I enjoy human creativity and ingenuity, and it pays for me to pay attention to things that might help bolster my songs. Perhaps I could broadcast through you, as well as doing concerts…Though I would of course pay for the privilege.”

She wouldn’t be the first. As the only radio station in hell, Alastor had a monopoly, and demons had very quickly realised what that meant, and started sending in requests for advertisements on his show.

He’d even received one from Carmilla Carmine, who was, if he recalled correctly, not yet an overlord – but she was on her way, and already close friends (or more) with Zestial.

Alastor’s grin widened. “I’m sure I could fit in the Queen of Hell, especially after she so graciously gave me a way to access my powers again.” He twirled the microphone demonstratively. “It’s rather a relief to be able to use magic again, particularly transformation. I’m happy and grateful to Cannibal Town for providing my old clothes, but these ones suit me much better, don’t you think?” he preened.

The first thing he had done after getting access to his powers back, was change back into his normal red suit, tattered hems and all. With his clothes back and his microphone in hand, Alastor had felt himself again for the first time since Adam’s blow had landed and he’d woken up nude and alone in the past.

“You look lovely in them,” Lilith said. “I bet you’d look just as lovely with them on my floor,” she purred, leaning in and giving him bedroom eyes.

Alastor’s smile froze as his ears, despite himself, went back. Lilith paused, taking him in, before leaning back, straightening and making sure he could see where her hands were folded on the table. “Forgive me. I find you attractive and thought we could have some fun – I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t scare me,” Alastor bit out, despite the fact that his ears were pressed against his skull and he was consumed with the urge to run from the room.

Lilith hummed gently, and didn’t argue the point. “Still, you have my apology.”

And – that was it. She didn’t push, or coerce (or try to hypnotise him-). Just an apology for reading it wrong.

This was not, in his experience, how powerful people reacted to being told no.

The sensible thing to do would be to leave it alone. If Alastor was the sensible type, he wouldn’t have become a serial killer.

“You could force it,” he stated, carefully not asking.

Lilith nodded, unsmiling. “I could. I’m far more powerful than you, and also your employer. But I won’t.”

Alastor raised an eyebrow at her, which she smiled thinly at. “You may not believe it but it’s the truth. And here’s another truth - I was just as much a part of the apple as Lucifer was, contrary to what you may have heard in church.”

“Church didn’t mention you much at all, actually.”

“Figures,” Lilith snorted. “But regardless – I acted to give humans free will just like my husband, but not for the same reasons. Lucifer saw humanities potential, and dreamt of seeing it bloom. But I? I did it for Eve. She was trapped without being able to free herself or even knowing she was trapped because that fucker couldn’t stand being turned down. She deserved better. And I will never be like him.”

Lilith sipped her wine as Alastor digested that. He thought about Adam. He thought about being married to Adam, and unable to say no to anything he wanted, and shuddered.

“Well, as someone who is a descendent of Eve, and who far prefers Hell to Earth or anything Heaven might have to offer, I believe I owe you thanks.”

Lilith nodded graciously; with all the regality her ex-husband was lacking. “He and I – we were made of the same stuff. Equals. I look at him and see everything I could have become. So, I decided a long time ago to do everything in my power not to be like him, and that includes things such as taking no for an answer.”

Several of the people Alastor had killed when he was alive had been rapists. Several of the demons he’d killed in both in last life and this one in hell were also rapists, or attempted rapists. It was good to know he wouldn’t need to worry about trying to figure out how to kill the Queen of Hell, even if she was attracted to him.

But since they were talking, and the awkward moment had passed…he had some questions.

“I was wondering if your husband – ex husband? – would be visiting any time soon. Charlie would be happy – she misses him.” Alastor eyed Lilith’s reaction carefully.

The Queen smiled wryly. “Ex-husband. And no, he most likely won’t. He could, I wouldn’t keep him from Charlie, but he, as per usual, would rather hide then confront things –” she cut herself off with a shake of her head, like a lioness flicking away a fly. Alastor leaned closer, grin wide.

“So, it is ‘ex’! I wasn’t sure – nobody really knows what happened, just that you and Charlie are here instead of the palace.” And when he had come to the hotel, Lucifer had still been wearing his wedding ring, even almost a hundred years in the future. Lilith, Alastor noticed with delight, was not. Oh, he was absolutely going to bring that up the moment he saw the King.

“You want the gossip?” Lilith’s lips quirked as she took another sip of wine. “Yes, it’s ex – I left him a few years ago. Took Charlie and came here.”

“What makes a couple break up after thousands of years?” Alastor leaned even further forward, feeling like he was sitting with Rosie in her emporium and being told all the juicy gossip that had happened in Cannibal Town since his last visit.

“The Exterminations.”

“Oh?”

“Well, the frustrations had been building for a while, but the breaking point was the Exterminations. He says that he bargained for them to only target sinners, and not Hellborn as well, and I believe him – but the very fact that Heaven wanted to kill people whose only crime was being born doesn’t make him think they might be wrong – and every life lost to the exorcists – he – ooh!”

Lilith put her glass down with a thump on the table, eyes narrowed. “He calls the sinners violent psychopaths, and he’s right. There are – were rather – sinners in hell who killed millions of innocent people. Genghis Khan, Huang Di, Christopher Columbus – and yet, every single person those people killed went on to the afterlife, to hell or heaven. But the Exterminations – they kill people permanently. Our people, whether he acknowledges them as such or not! By allowing the Exterminations Lucifer has soaked his hands in more blood than even the worse sinner, and he refuses to acknowledge it – because they’re ‘just sinners’!” The Queen of Hell’s eyes blazed as her power writhed around her, and Alastor was reminded of her daughter. “And even with all that – with the mass murder, and needing to bargain for the lives of Hellborn – he still thinks Heaven was right! He thinks they were right to not give humans free will, he thinks he made a mistake –” her voice was anguished.

“That’s why I like you, Alastor. You and other sinners like you. You don’t think you were wrong. You rebel against heaven happily. Lucifer did too, once, and that was the man I fell in love with. A rebellious dreamer, on fire with passion and ideas. But that fire is ashes now, and I am sick of having to let myself burn trying to keep him warm.”

So that was it. If Lucifer felt that Heaven was right, and that giving Eve the apple had been a mistake, then that meant that he believed she should have been without free will, submissive to Adam – and that meant that Lilith should have been without free will, and submissive to Adam. That she was wrong to deny him and flee the Garden. Oh, Alastor was sure that Lucifer hadn’t thought of it that way, but that didn’t change the fact that it could be taken that way. It spoke to Lucifer’s arrogance and shortsighted-ness that he hadn’t realised.

“Does Charlie know?”

“No,” Lilith answered, once more cool and collected. “She knows I left because of irreconcilable differences, but not the details, and I would prefer it if she didn’t find out.”

“Of course. Speaking of Charlie,” Alastor said, changing the subject, “I think I might let her see my radio tower soon.” With his ability to access his powers restored and his new residence in the Morningstar Manor, Alastor had recreated his Radio Tower off the side of his room, much as he had at the Hazbin Hotel. “She likes my broadcasts, and I fully believe that everyone should know a bit about radios and how they work. She knows when to be quiet, as well, so it will be a good learning experience.”

“She’ll love that,” Lilith smiled gently, eyes alight with warmth at the thought of her daughter’s joy, and for some reason –

“Would you like to come?” Alastor found himself offering.

Lilith contemplated it for a moment, before shaking her head. “No, best to let her enjoy herself without her mother peering over her shoulder – I’ve noticed you’ve made a few ads in your show recently,” she changed the subject.

“I have yes – I don’t really need the money, but it’s always fun to see what people will bargain with! And the connections are, of course, delightful.”

“Of course. Still, eventually you are going to get requests from overlords – and offers. For your soul.”

“Which is not available,” Alastor reminded her, wondering where she was going with this.

“Exactly. And if you tell them that, they will wonder who it belongs to – if they do, you have my permission to pretend that it’s me. I don’t normally bother owning souls, so if they think you belong to me it will be an added layer of protection.”

Alastor sipped his wine, turning that over in his mind, before shrugging.

“If you like.” He didn’t really care either way, but it would make things easier. “Anything else you’d like to discuss?”

Lilith was silent for a long moment, purple eyes measuring him. “When we first spoke, you told me your type of victim was ‘predators.’ Powerful men and women who thought they were untouchable.”

“I did, yes,” Alastor affirmed, smile growing. He thought he knew where this was going.

“An overlord died yesterday.”

“So she did!”

Aphrodite was a demon that had been a Beauty Queen when she was alive – the first Beauty Queen, actually, having won the Belle of the Anna-Ball, in 1825, before promptly dying. She was the Overlord of Sex before Valentino had stuck his dirty paws in the industry, and as hard as it might be to believe, she was actually worse than Valentino.

Valentino used charm and manipulation to trick others into giving him their souls – Aphrodite had sinners she found beautiful (usually softer, prey type sinners, along with the occasional horned and winged succubus-esque ones) kidnapped off the streets and tortured until they gave her their souls just to make the pain stop.

And then? Well, then the pain continued as she whored them out, had them tortured for the slightest ‘defiance’, raped the ones she found attractive and scarred the face of the ones she felt were too attractive and might be outshining the beauty queen – most of her souls eventually snapped and left to stand in the streets when the extermination happened, choosing nothingness over continuing in their wretched lives.

Last time, Alastor had killed other overlords before targeting Aphrodite – this time, he knew that she was weaker than she’d always portrayed, relying mostly on her ability to charm others and make them mindless servants – an ability that relied on the person she was charming finding her attractive.

Late last night, every single sorry sinner that had Aphrodite’s collar around their necks suddenly found themselves free.

Lilith smiled at him, two conspirators sharing a drink and a secret. “Don’t get caught.”

Alastor raised a hand to his chest in mock horror. “My dear! I'll have you know something about my life up on earth.”

He grinned.

“I was never caught.”

Chapter 6

 

Charlie was practically vibrating with excitement. Alastor’s smile was realer than usual at the sight.

“Have a look around, but don’t touch anything, alright dear?”

Charlie nodded frantically, holding her hands behind her back so as to prevent herself from giving into temptation.

“Well then…” Alastor swept his arm wide as he opened the door to his radio tower. “Welcome!”

His new radio tower was decked out the same as his old one, wide windows looking out into the red hell sky. He had a semi-circle station where he broadcasted his shows that was covered in dials and switches, a microphone, and the various tools required to be a radio host - such as his collection of vinyl disks that he used to play music. His chair was in the centre of the semi-circle. There was an antlered coatrack off to the side, some lovely cattails and weeds growing through the floorboards, and an empty coffee cup was on the station. Not his Oh Deer mug, unfortunately. The shop that he had originally commissioned it from hadn’t been created yet after all.

“This is where the magic happens,” Alastor said as he sat down in his chair and magicked up one for Charlie next to it with a swirl of his fingers. She sat down with a bounce, looking around eagerly.

“The microphone is what I use for my spoken segments, the gramophone for the music I play – and over here are the letters I’ve received. Most of them are enquiries about ads.” Some of them were scum sending him filthy words about the things they’d like to do to him, or what they thought of his voice, or requests for pictures, but he burned those. Funnily enough, though there were more of them, this was not new to him – even when he’d been broadcasting the screams of those who irritated him, he had still received such letters, pathetic sinners without a whisper of power or a soul to their name emboldened by anonymity. Though, they had stopped quickly once he made it clear that they were not, in fact, anonymous. He ruled the airwaves, and so he ruled all sound. They could refuse to write their names all they wanted – he could still hear them.

Unfortunately, though, he would not be able to make an example of the letter writers as he had last time without giving up his new game, so he would simply have to deal with them quietly this time – and burn the letters, which he did with a snap of his fingers.

Then he turned to the ones that weren’t pure filth and opened an envelope with a practiced flick of his sharp claws. His summoned creatures had gone through and sorted all his mail and put them into piles – and this particular letter had been separated from the others, implying that it was something important or interesting.

Dear Mr Alastor of Pentagram City Radio,

I am writing to you with a request. For years now, I have wanted to work in radio, but was never able to when I was alive – and when I died, I discovered that hell had no radio, and so I put my dream aside. Hearing your broadcasts has brought me such joy, and so I am determined to at the very least ask – may I work for you? My soul is currently ownerless, and I am willing to offer it if that is necessary. Please respond as soon as possible – I very much which to achieve what I was never able to in life, and work in radio!

Yours,

Marshall.

Interesting. Very interesting. And it gave him some ideas.

Right now, Alastor was the only one able to make use of radio waves, the only one able to broadcast, the only one with a station, and if anyone wanted to form a rival station, he could shut it down with a thought.

That meant he had a monopoly on radio. Wonderful! Except for one small problem.

Alastor didn’t want a monopoly on radio.

That sort of thing was for sellout televisions. No, what Alastor wanted was for radio to thrive, for sound to fill the airwaves, and for that he needed more radio stations, not less. If those stations were linked to him, either as allies such as he was with Rosie, or as souls under his ownership, then that was simply all for the better! More power was always welcome.

He turned to where Charlie was sitting next to him, her eyes big and shining as she studied his broadcasting station while sitting on her hands.

“What do you think?” he handed her the letter. Charlie read it quickly once, before reading it again slower, bouncing in her seat.

“I think it’s wonderful!” she exclaimed, excitement ridding her of any need to act bored or depressed as she occasionally felt the need to do. Alastor was going to be so relieved when this little emo phase of hers was over. It was…irritating, to see Charlie deliberately stifle her nature. It was much better when she was as bubbly and happy as she was now. “You can have someone help you – I’ve been doing some reading about Radio on earth, and the stations there have whole hosts of people working, voice actors and disk jockeys and –”

At this, Alastor couldn’t help but chuckle. “I know Charlie, I used to work in one. I agree, I think it’s a wonderful idea too – and who knows, he might be the first of many!”

Charlie beamed at him and Alastor beamed back. Then, her smile faltered as she frowned slightly down at the letter. “But – do you have to own his soul for him to work for you?”

“Of course, it’s a matter of protection. What do you know about how sinner demons are ranked in hell?”

Charlie looked away, fidgeting. “Um…”

Really, what had Lilith been doing?

“Well, at the very top are the Sovereign Overlords, those Overlords who own millions of souls and have complete control over a large area of territory, and often an aspect of society in Hell. Zestial, for instance, is hell’s oldest and most powerful Overlord, and while he doesn’t have his own territory, he rules over information. There is an Overlord of Science, of Money, of Drugs, and so on.”

Each of which he had killed before, and each of which he was planning to kill again, but that wasn’t necessary for Charlie to know.

“Then there are the Overlords that are not Sovereigns. They still own territory and hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of souls, but they are weaker and less important than the Sovereigns. Usually, if a Sovereign falls, it’s because an Overlord managed to kill them and take their place.”

Husker had been an Overlord, before his fall.

“Then there are the Kingpins. They own souls and territory, though not as much as overlords, and often fight amongst each other for scraps. There are free souls, who don’t have to deal with their owner’s orders, but also don’t get the security or power of being owned. Finally, there are the owned souls – they are technically at the bottom of the ranks, but in reality their status depends on the power of whoever owns their soul.” Angel Dust, for instance, had the protection of famously belonging to Valentino. That meant anyone who tried to hurt him knew that if they did, they were challenging a Sovereign Overlord – but it also meant that that the one Angel Dust most needed to worry about was Valentino himself.

“The politics of hell are about power and control, and who kneels to who - and the one who I kneel to is your mother, who is as above the Overlords as the Overlords are above imps. By accepting Marshall’s soul, I offer him power and security beyond his wildest dreams. Not to mention, if I didn’t he could choose to betray me, to take his knowledge of how things worked here and go and start up some rival station.”

Charlie still looked downcast. Alastor sighed, waving one hand as he conjured a scroll from thin air.

“Here’s the deal I would be offering him – you’ll find it’s a good deal fairer than many others of its ilk. Have a read and perhaps that will help any anxieties you have.”

The deal he showed Charlie was the same one he used – will use – for Nifty, as opposed to the one he had used for Husker – but then, the one for Husker had been written by Husker, and Alastor had very much enjoyed the look on his face as he realised the contract that he used for his own souls – the contract he had planned to bind Alastor to – would be binding him instead. That was what happened when you gambled and lost.

Charlie looked sad, even as she read over the contract and could see how fair it was. Alastor rolled his eyes and leaned over, resting an elbow on her head as he whisked the contract away.

Time to change the subject to something he had been contemplating for a while now.

“Charlie, what do you think of your father?”

Alastor knew terrible fathers. His first victim had been his own, after all, and several of his others had also been the type of man who thought he could hurt his wife and children with impunity simply because they were ‘his’. Even before he’d met Lucifer, he hadn’t thought him a terrible father – there were sign, in children who had been abused, and Charlie had shown none of them.

That didn’t mean he hadn’t been a bad one. One didn’t have the amount of daddy issues Charlie had with a totally healthy parental relationship - he might not be abusive, but he’d sure been a deadbeat.

Alastor had been automatically inclined to dislike Lucifer, and not just because he was taking over Alastor’s place as pseudo-parental figure by being the actual parental figure who was also, much as Alastor hated to admit it, more powerful than him. Still, he could have swallowed it and been (mostly) polite – and then Lucifer had stepped into the hotel and ignored him, and the other sinners, and been scornful of the bar he’d brought in, and it had been on.

If that Alastor had been sent back in time, he wouldn’t even be contemplating doing what he was about to do, but…

I’m grateful you’re my father/daughter more than anything.

As much as he would like to solidify his place in Charlie’s affections as her father figure and shove Lucifer out, Alastor wasn’t sure he could, anymore. Lucifer loved Charlie, enough to put aside the opinions formed over ten thousand years and help her with her dream of redeeming sinners – enough to contact the heaven which had forced him out to get her a meeting. Eventually he would show up again, and force Alastor out – so it was better, then, to put himself in a position where he couldn’t be forced out.

“I don’t…really know him. He’s always so far away…” Charlie murmured. “And he doesn’t want to see me. Ever since Mom left him…” She looked downcast.

With a snap and flicker of eldritch green fire, Alastor manifested some paper and coloured pencils in front of her. “We’re going to do an activity, my dear! You are going to write – or draw, if you prefer, I know how you like that – something for your father. You can put in anything you like, anything you are feeling – or you could just draw a rainbow. It’s up to you. But it must be for your father. Imagine him looking at it and write and draw what you want him to see.”

Charlie pulled the paper and pencils closer, frowning down in concentration.

“Because he is going to see it,” Alastor continued. Lucifer coming back into his daughter’s life was an inevitability – so he’d be the one controlling that. He’d be the one setting them together once again – and the one Charlie went to whenever her father made a mistake to fix the relationship. He’d weave himself into the threads of the Morningstar family so tightly they wouldn’t be able to remove him without taking the whole tapestry apart.

“It won’t do any good,” Charlie muttered, though she bent down over the paper and started drawing. “He doesn’t want to see me.”

Alastor grinned. “Trust me Charlie – by the time I’m done, he’ll want to see you.”

Chapter 7

Morningstar Palace looked about how Alastor would have expected it. Unlike Morningstar Manor, where he and Charlie and Lilith currently resided and which had clearly been decorated by Lilith’s excellent taste, Morningstar Palace…

Circus décor. Circus décor everywhere.

Alastor shuddered.

At least it had good wards – layers after layers of protection that had been added and changed and merged with each other over ten thousand years. Alastor didn’t like acknowledging when he was out classed, but he comforted himself that if he’d had ten thousand years his wards would be even better, and also that most of it was probably Lilith’s work.

Also, he smiled smugly as he dissolved into shadow, the wards strength didn’t mean anything when he had access to Lilith’s magic. You could make a door of stainless steel built five feet thick and it wouldn’t stop someone who had a key.

Alastor flickered from shadow to shadow through the palace, taking the occasional moment to sniff haughtily at the cobwebs and cracks in the walls. Finally, he found his prey.

Lucifer was in a small workshop, hunched over a workbench at the far end, fiddling with whatever he was working on. He was concentrating so deeply he didn’t even notice the shadow materializing into a seven-foot-tall grinning sinner demon behind him. Said demon then leaned forward over his shoulder and eyed what it was the King of Hell was focusing so deeply on.

“Is that a rubber duck?” Alastor wrinkled his nose. Really?

Lucifer spluttered and jumped most amusingly, turning in his chair. “What the fuck –”

“Language!” Alastor sang out, reaching out and rapping Lucifer on his nose with his microphone – or at least, the part of his face that the nose should have been.

The look of utter discombobulation on the pint-sized king’s face was delightful.

“Wha – a sinner?!” The look of disgust, on the other hand, made Alastor want to bite his face off. “How did you get in here? The wards –”

“Well, I knocked, but no one answered so I let myself in.” Alastor waved a hand idly, dismissing the words coming out of Lucifer’s mouth.

This apparently set the King off. “Let yourself – you shouldn’t be able to do that!”

“Whyever not? After all, I’m practically part of the family now!” Alastor grinned. “Alastor, pleasure to be meeting you, quite a pleasure - I’m your daughter’s new nanny.”

And now the devil was gaping, yellow and red eyes wide. Alastor tapped his head with his microphone. “Is there anyone home?”

“A sinner – what the fuck is Lily thinking? A violent psychopath around my little girl,” Lucifer babbled, running his hands through his hair. Alastor narrowed his eyes at him. Of course, he was a violent psychopath – but Lucifer didn’t know that. It was based entirely on the fact that he was a sinner, and Alastor had had enough of being judged for what he was rather than who he was when he was still alive.

“Yeah, no, you’re fired,” said Lucifer, already turning away, having dismissed Alastor mentally.

“No, I’m not,” Alastor smiled, head tilted to the side, which was apparently not the response the king had been expecting. Lucifer turned back and sputtered.

“Wha – yes you are!”

“No, I’m not!”

“Yes you are!”

“No, I’m not! You see your lowliness – I don’t work for you,” Alastor trilled, spinning around and sweeping the duck and tools off the desk and sitting down on it, crossing his legs primly and ignoring Lucifer’s spluttering.

“You don’t get a say in the matter!” His grin was sharper than a sharks. “I work for the Queen, and she disagrees with you about to raise Charlie – and it’s a good thing too, do you know she’d never even met a sinner when she wasn’t in her mother’s favourite club before me? Never walked the streets or talked with any of her subjects on their level?”

“She doesn’t need to! Not with sinners! The hellborn are enough!” Lucifer snapped.

“Wrong!” Alastor sang, hitting Lucifer’s head with the top of his microphone again. “After all, she’s going to be ruling them one day! They are her people, and if she’s unprepared to face them – well, whose fault is that?”

“Uh – theirs,” Lucifer rolled his eyes, face expressing that he thought that answer was obvious.

“No, yours!”

That seemed to get to Lucifer, making his eyes darken and a flicker of red pulse across the yellow. “I didn’t make any of them sin, that whole devil made me do it schtick is bullshit –”

“Not that!” Alastor rolled his eyes. “And not for the apple either, that was a good thing to do –” Lucifer closed his mouth, looking oddly shocked as Alastor continued, “No, it’s yours because you, knowing yourself to be the king of hell, then chose to have Charlie, making her a princess. You should have known she was, at some point, going to have to interact with her subjects – unless your plan was to keep her locked away in your castle for all eternity?”

“Of course not! There are six rings of hell she can go in – just not this one! Not the one with sinners! There are rapists and pedophiles and murderers who would just love to hurt her!”

“So teach her how to defend herself,” Alastor rolled his eyes.

“Charlie doesn’t need to defend herself, that’s what I’m there for!” Lucifer snapped.

“But you’re not there, are you,” Alastor purred, leaning forward and into Lucifer’s space. “I am.”

Watching the King of Hell lose his temper was truly a delight. “I’m going to kill you,” Lucifer said softly, with a face like the knowledge was a revelation. “I’m going to burn you to ashes with hellfire and laugh.”

“Well, I guess you don’t want to see what Charlie made for you, hmm?” Alastor pulled the paper from inside his jacket. Then, with a swift movement, he held it above his head, out of reach of the white clad arm that had snapped out to grab the paper.

“Ah-ah-ah!” Alastor waggled his finger in Lucifer’s fuming face. “Didn’t you ever learn manners! Ask nicely!”

“I’m not going to ask a sinner for anything.” Lucifer snapped, disgust coating his voice when he said the word sinner. Honestly, this man – sinner this and that – it was giving Alastor some bad memories of other times men with pale skin and light hair had called him a word coated in disgust, a word that started with N instead of S. He’d been going to give Lucifer Charlie’s paper, but now…

Well, he was still going to give it to him, but he’d have some fun with it first.

“I’m not sure I want to give this to a person who thinks so lowly of us sinners!” Alastor lilted, studying the claws of one hand as his other hand moved the paper out of Lucifers grasp several more times. “And one with no manners! Dear Charlie will be so disappointed, she was so hopeful you’d respond – how many times can you disappoint her before she stops trying to reach out to you, hmm?”

That got Lucifer to freeze.

Alastor saw the chink in the armour and pressed in ruthlessly. “All it takes is a little word, but oh! That would require you to swallow your pride, wouldn’t it?” Alastor leaned down, fully aware he was playing with fire.

“What, you’re not willing to give up your pride for your daughter, sin of pride?”

For a long moment, there was only silence as they glared at each other, before Lucifer sighed.

“Please,” he said, and Alastor grinned victoriously, handing over Charlie’s paper. She’d folded it over when she’d given it to him, and made him promise not to look – which he would have broken immediately, if not for the fact that he had seen enough of Charlie’s drawings for a lifetime.

So. Many. Rainbows.

“When you’re done looking and/or reading, make a reply, and I’ll deliver it – unless you want to come over and give it to her yourself?” Alastor hoped the answer was yes. As fun as taunting Lucifer had been, he’d rather get this all over and done with rather than having to play messenger between estranged father and daughter for longer.

“She wants to see me?” Lucifer looked up at that, eyes shining.

Ugh, these two –

“Of course she does, or I wouldn’t be here.” Alastor rolled his eyes, and hopped down off the workbench, making Lucifer turn and hunch over Charlie’s message protectively, ensuring Alastor couldn’t see it.

If Alastor rolled his eyes anymore, he would strain them.

“She’s currently at –” Alastor checked the small shadow he’d woven into Charlie’s so he’d know where she was and if she was safe, “Oh, at Mimzy’s! I’m going to go meet her now. If you want to come along, you may. If you want to stay here and make more ducks, feel free. But choose quickly.”

Alastor held out a hand, and with a curse, Lucifer took it as they dissolved into shadow.

Chapter 8

When the shadows parted and revealed the front of Mimzy’s, Alastor immediately dropped Lucifer’s hand and wiped his own on his coat. Lucifer looked around sceptically, looking up at the neon light’s spelling out Mimzy’s name.

They flickered.

“Charlie’s in here?” Lucifer asked doubtfully.

“Yes – what, have you never been to a club before?”

“Of course I have! Lily likes sinner run clubs for some reason – I’ve just never been in one so...yeesh." Lucifer looked at Mimzy’s club the same way he had looked at Alastor’s bar, and Alastor’s right eye twitched. Arrogant, pompous –

“Yes, you’re an absent King as much as you are an absent husband and father, we know,” Alastor waved a hand as if flicking off a fly. “Moving on! I think you should disguise yourself before we enter.”

Lucifer paused from where he was straightening his coat and looked up at Alastor. “Uh – okay, I’ll bite. Why?”

“Two reasons.” Actually, there were three reasons. The third was that Alastor thought it would be funny.

“The first is that Charlie is in her angsty teenager phase right now, and won’t want to interact with her estranged father for the first time in years in public.” Especially when said father was a socially awkward idiot that had been apparently spending those years apart making rubber ducks, of all things.

“The second is that you are the one who signed off on the Exterminations. Right now, people see Charlie more as Lilith’s daughter then yours, and everyone knows she resists the Exterminations, but if you start openly hanging around Charlie in public – well, there are very few demons who haven’t lost someone in an Extermination, and they might know that you’re far too powerful for them to attack, but Charlie?”

That got to the pint-sized King. “They’d dare –”

“Oh for the love of – yes they’d dare. You know why? Because people who have lost someone they love aren’t thinking clearly! Do you have any idea how many people have lost loved ones in the exterminations? Everyone. But perhaps you just don’t think we sinners are capable of love, or being loved, hmm?”

Lucifer looked away, pulling his hat down over his eyes. “Every single person who died in the exterminations was a sinner. I’ve seen sinners do worse to each other than a quick death. Over and Over…”

“Oh yes!” Alastor agreed cheerfully, waving a hand. “Most sinners will kill each other at the drop of a hat – because we come back afterwards. That doesn’t mean we deserve to be genocided, hunted down and brutally murdered once a year! Evil done unto evil is still evil. I always understood that – I never thought of myself as doing something good, just necessary – and fun! I don’t understand why you angels have such a hard time understanding something so simple. But I’m getting away from the point of the matter. People – quite rightly – blame you for their losses, and if they know you actually care about your daughter she’ll be at risk of being targeted – and she’s Hellborn. She won’t come back from being killed.”

The thought of Charlie being hurt made Lucifer whirl to face the door, eyes switched and glowing and horns starting to rise out of his hairline. Alastor hit him on the head with his microphone again. “Yes, yes, you’re very scary. Pull it in and shapeshift into something else. Considering your height – perhaps an imp?” He grinned.

“Ha-ha very funny – if you keep hitting me with that thing, I’ll break it and hit you back. Through a wall. The only reason I haven’t yet is that Lily’s magic is in it.” Lucifer glared up at Alastor, before smirking. “And I’m not becoming an imp – but how about this?”

With a poof of red sparkles, Lucifer was replaced by an incubus, all pink skin and horns and – were those heart shaped nipples? Why? Also, why was he shirtless now?

Lucifer waggled his eyebrows at Alastor, crossing his arms as he grinned smugly at him. Alastor raised an eyebrow in response. “You’d think, if you were going to shapeshift, you’d at least make yourself taller.”

Lucifer shrugged. “I like being fun-sized. Anyway, what do you think?”

“I think you should put a shirt on, it’s not that kind of club – and now that I think about it, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a hellborn in Mimzy’s – you’ll draw too much attention. Maybe try just an average sinner look…”

Lucifer snorted, returned to his usual form and did – something.

It wasn’t Lucifer standing before him.
But yes, it was, he’d just been talking to him.
But this was not Lucifer Morningstar.
But it looked exactly like –

“Ah shit, my bad.” A finger poked his forehead.

Alastor blinked, tasting copper and iron, instinctually licking the blood from his lips.

He’d had a nosebleed?

Lucifer stood before, looking slightly awkward. “I didn’t think you’d react that badly to the spell.”

“Spell?”

“A secret keeper spell – it hides the knowledge of who I am away, and makes it so no one can put the pieces together and get ‘that guy is the King of Hell’. Never done it right in front of someone who already knew the secret before…”

Alastor pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the blood away from his face primly. As enjoyable as blood was, he didn’t particularly enjoy the taste of his own. “Will it cause issues for Charlie?”

If Lucifer made her bleed out of her nose, fuck this entire plan, he was kicking the man out and he could come see Charlie when he had last time around. In almost a century from now.

Lucifer waved a hand dismissively. “Nah, it was just ‘cause you were right in front of me.”

“Well then, in that case – welcome, Your Majesty, to Mimzy’s.” Alastor opened the door and walked in without bothering with even a facetious bow. He adjusted his bowtie as he let the smells and sounds of the club watch over him, the acrid smell of cheap cigarettes and cheaper booze, the shouting and singing and laughing and loud, low note of the saxophone – and then he moved towards the small, blonde-haired figure sitting at the bar.

Alastor was pleased to see that the bartender had obeyed his orders not to give Charlie anything alcoholic. He sat beside her at the bar. “And how are we doing today?”

Charlie whirled around, face anxious. “Alastor, you’re back! Did you give it to him?”

Alastor straightened his bow tie. “I did!”

“And he – how did he react?” Charlie asked in a small voice, shoulders hunched. Alastor reached out and straightened them, tipping her chin up with a finger as he did so.

“He loved it – in fact, he loved it so much he sent someone with me, just to give you his reply.” Alastor turned and gestured towards the disguised Lucifer, who jumped a bit at being pointed out, before waving awkwardly.

Charlie looked at her disguised father with the disdain of an awkward teenager looking at someone even less cool than them.

“Here!” Lucifer reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a piece of paper that had been folded over enough that no one could see what was on it. He handed it over to Charlie before sitting down at the bar next to Alastor, who ignored the glares and gestures to move with haughty dignity. If Lucifer had wanted to sit next to his daughter, he should have come over first.

Charlie held the paper in her hands but hesitated to open it. Alastor was about to turn and busy himself looking in the other direction, when suddenly the door opened, and a hush fell over the previously rowdy club goers.

Walking through the door, with a man on either side in a suit that made them look like gangsters form the 20’s, was a man Alastor knew very well.

After all, last time around he’d killed him.

The man in the center was dressed in a tuxedo that barely covered his large, bulky frame, and appeared to have two red eyes and a frowning mouth full of sharp demon teeth on the front. His skin was purple and hairless, with a row of spines like a mohawk coming out of the top of his head and two red eyes on each side. He also had a monocle which made Alastor adjust his own in slight irritation. Clenched between sharp teeth was a large cigar, and he strolled into Mimzy’s like he was the most powerful person in the room – which he normally would be, if not for the presence of Alastor. Oh, and Lucifer, he supposed.

The Overlord of Money, who called himself Dementus.

What had Mimzy gotten herself into this time?

“Stay here,” Alastor ordered both Morningstars sharply, before standing and plastering a welcoming smile on his face as he strode over to where the Overlord was standing.

“Hello there! Pleasure to be meeting you, quite a pleasure – might I assume you are here because Mimzy owes you money?” Alastor reached forward and briskly shook Dementus’s hand, deliberately speaking too fast and getting too up in his face to allow the overlord to pay attention to anything but him.

“I’m afraid she’s not here right now –” or at least she had better not be, “- but I can speak for her, if you’d like – perhaps over a drink, or on the dance floor?” he held his cane behind him and leaned forward, head tilted to the side.

Dementus was looking at him, as planned. Alastor smiled and smiled and hid the hatred behind his teeth like they were the steel jaws of a trap. In his years working menial jobs while broadcasting at night, he’d learned to hide the hatred and disdain he felt for the rich men and women that treated him as lesser either due to his skin colour or his birth status. He’d learned to smile and fawn and pretend he wasn’t imagining tearing their throats out with his teeth and drinking down their screams and terror and red red red blood. He did the same now.

After all, Dementus had been a rich man in life, as well. He might dress like a 20’s gangster, but he’d been in hell for centuries – and when he’d been alive, he had gotten his money from the slave trade. Alastor had enjoyed killing him last time.

“I only dance with dames,” Dementus said, shooting Alastor a considering look. Alastor simply smiled wider and clicked his fingers, a surge of magic leaving him dressed in heels and stockings and a beautiful dress in red and black with beads and tassels decorating it, hair curled up under a headband and lips covered in lipstick coloured a dark, bloody red.

He reached out a hand to Dementus. “How about now?”

The overlord smiled back at him, and took his hand.

It was a good thing Alastor was used to talking on the dance floor, because Dementus may be an abominable piece of shit who needed to die as soon as Alastor could manage it, but he was also a skilled dancer, and a less experienced dancer than Alastor would have been out of breath keeping up.

“So, what exactly is it that you want Mimzy for?” Alastor asked, spinning out and kicking his legs up in a twist before spinning back in. Please just be money, please don’t be another ‘I stole his car and used it to run over his girlfriend’ situation…

“She owes me money. Took a loan a couple of years ago, and has stopped making payments on the interest,” Dementus answered catching Alastor and lifting him around him in a complicated twist and spin that made Alastor laugh with delight as he landed, grinning wildly at the overlord and started to add a twist, embroidered beads glinting in the lights as tasselled hems rose up and revealed his rolled down stockings.

“And of course, you have to make a statement so others don’t believe they can do that.”

“Of course. Glad to see you understand.”

“But you know –” Alastor span under Dementus’s raised arm adroitly, “If you make an example…you don’t get the money.” He was making a bet here, but as husker would be able to attest decades in the future, Alastor didn’t make bets he wasn’t sure he would win. “I, on the other hand, have quite a lot of money – how much exactly does she owe?”

“Ten thousand.”

Alastor did some quick calculations in his head. Ten thousand in this time would be about two hundred and forty thousand in his previous one.

What the fuck Mimzy? Were you burning the bills? Still…

“I don’t know if you’ve heard of me or not, but I run Pentagram cities only radio station,” Alastor said, legs kicking out. “Ad space is quite desired – I even have some I’ve sold to Zestial, your compatriot. Not to mention – see the blonde girl sitting by the bar?” They turned and looked at Charlie (and a disguised Lucifer) as one, who was looking oddly concerned but brightened when Alastor looked over at her and nodded gently.

“Your daughter?” Alastor smiled proudly at that, surprising himself. “My ward – I’m her nanny. That is Charlotte Morningstar, daughter of King Lucifer and Queen Lilith, Princess of Hell.”

Dementus shot Alastor a considering look as Alastor simply smiled at him coyly, looking up through his lashes.

“Needless to say, her majesty pays me quite well to look after her daughter – How about I pay three quarters of it off completely, and you let Mimzy off the rest in return for some ad space?”

Dementus looked thoughtful. Alastor knew he was considering not just the money, but also the worth of the ad space, and the connection to the royal family – and he knew what conclusion he would come to. He wasn’t surprised when the overlord agreed, and they stopped dancing as the song ended and changed to a new one, shaking hands with a flare of light of a deal settled and heading off to the bar for Alastor to write a check.

The moment they were done and Dementus had moved on, Charlie was huddling into Alastor’s side, causing him to raise an eyebrow even as he obligingly lifted his arm and allowed it.

“Can we go home?” Charlie muttered, shooting a paranoid look at where Dementus was still hanging around with his bodyguards.

Was she nervous to be around an overlord? Somehow, that didn’t seem right…

Still, there was no point staying now that he’d brought Lucifer to Charlie and also taken care of the threat to Mimzy, so he shrugged and nodded and got ready to teleport them.

“I can make a portal!” Lucifer interrupted, sending Charlie a wide, slightly desperate smile. “We can all go together!”

That was actually easier on his powers then teleporting all three through the shadows, so Alastor agreed, and the three of them passed through the spinning gold magic, coming out in the parlour of Lilith’s mansion.

In front of them was Lilith, who stood and stared at them, taking in the undoubtedly familiar magic that had brought them home, the way Charlie was clinging to Alastor, who was still dressed in his rather lovely gown and makeup, and Lucifer, who was still disguised.

An elegantly arched eyebrow raised at them.

Alastor opened his mouth to explain.

“Mom!” Charlie cried out, rushing and clinging to her mother’s gown in utter distress even as Alastor blinked in discombobulation. “You have to stop the Overlord from stealing Alastor!”

What?

Notes:

Lucifer: I hate this annoying asshole deer sinner! I’m going to set him on fire and laugh!

Also Lucifer: *Shapeshifts into a hot half-naked lust demon version of himself and gets disappointed when Alastor doesn’t think it’s hot.*

Chapter 9

What?

It wasn’t just Alastor who was shocked by Charlie’s words either, both Lilith and Lucifer were left staring in shock as well.

Lilith eventually lifted her head, turning to Alastor. “Will someone please tell me exactly what has been happening? Also –” she turned and shot a cold look at where Lucifer was still in disguise. “Kindly remove that spell.”

There was a shower of red sparks around Lucifer, and while Alastor couldn’t see any difference, Charlie gaped at him. “Dad?”

“Heeeeey, Char-Char!” Lucifer grinned awkwardly at his daughter who just gaped at him. Alastor rolled his eyes and stepped forward. “Putting aside your father’s idiocy Charlie –”

“Hey!”

“What exactly is the problem? Why would you think Dementus –”

“That’s his name? Seriously? Like, he actually chose that?”

“Would want to – or be capable of – ‘stealing’ me?” Seriously, where had this fear come from? He could understand Charlie being afraid for Alastor’s life, near an overlord when she didn’t realise how strong he was, and was perfectly willing to reassure her that not only was he more then capable of killing Dementus himself, so was her mother – but being stolen?

“Because he kept looking at you, even when you were facing away and after the dance finished and – and because - Mom is always busy and Dad is never here but you are and you smile and dance and cook and take me places and – you can’t leave! You can’t!” Charlie was crying, Alastor noticed with a distant horror, and while he should be rejoicing in someone’s pain, in causing such distress without even trying, it had never sat well with him when innocents cried. Somehow, despite himself, he found himself kneeling before Charlie and wiping her tears away with his long red claws. Charlie sobbed and threw herself into his arms.

For a moment, Alastor froze, then he forcibly relaxed himself. Charlie was a child under his care, and she was distressed and needed comfort. So…what would his mother do?

“Oh, ti dous mwen an, there there,” he murmured softly, stroking her hair, and holding her close. “I assure you Charlie, I am not going anywhere willingly, and if anyone attempts to drag me unwillingly, your parents are the strongest beings in Hell, and I’m sure they’d put a stop to it. I’m not leaving, shaa, I promise.”

Strangely enough, he was startled to find he meant it.

For the next few moments, he simply sat there and comforted Charlie as she cried herself out. Eventually, though, the tears stopped flowing and she sat back.

Alastor wiped her face with a handkerchief. “All better now? Now, put a smile on that face, hmm? You’re never fully dressed without one you know!” He demonstrated.

“And besides, did you forget something in your distress?” He gestured to where Lucifer was standing awkwardly, who jumped a bit at having his daughter’s attention and beamed at her.

Charlie didn’t say anything, or smile back, just looking down at her feet.

“Why don’t you go talk to your father while I tell your mother what happened today, alright?” Alastor nudged her gently over to her father and stood up, brushing off his skirt as he did so. Eventually, Charlie and Lucifer left, leaving Alastor and Lilith alone, and a delicate hand with long, violet painted nails reached out and grasped his chin, raising his head so she could look at him.

Lilith’s eyes skimmed over his features, taking in the makeup and the hairstyle, and then going down and taking in the dress he was wearing. Alastor preened at the blatantly appreciative look she wore, although there was something else in her gaze when she looked at him, something warm – but Alastor had experience with the way people looked at him when they wanted him, whether with Dementus, or before with Aphrodite, or in the last timeline with Vox, and Lilith’s gaze was nothing like theirs. There was no covetousness, no possessiveness, no obsession, so it couldn’t have been lust or desire. Maybe affection? Or amusement? Or gratitude? Either way, it was nice to have his sense of style appreciated, especially by someone he knew was an expert.

Alastor smiled coyly at her, and did a little spin when she removed her hand. “Like what you see? It’s been a while since I got all dressed up – I used to let Mimzy and her gals have fun, but then she died and the depression hit. It’s been ages since I got to dance like that!”

“You enjoyed dancing with him?”

“Dementus?” Alastor hummed. “He was skilled, but considering what he is – no, I really didn’t.”

“An Overlord?”

“A slaver,” Alastor said darkly, smile vicious and eyes ticking to radio dials before he controlled himself. “I know, with how I look, that you wouldn’t think so, but my mother was black.”

Lilith cocked her head to the side, a thoughtful expression on her face. “I have experience with men wanting to rule over women simply because they are men, but I was sent to hell before judging people based on skin colour became a thing, and well – it’s hell.”

In hell, you were more likely to find someone with red or blue or pink skin then black or white.

For someone who’s only experiences of earth were the garden of Eden, and other humans was only two other people, yes Alastor supposed racism would seem very strange.

“But you liked the dancing?” Lilith asked. Alastor beamed at her. “Yes! I love dancing, and it’s been a while since I got to go full out like that.”

Lilith hummed, and then snapped her fingers and transformed into a tuxedo, black and purple, with long tails and a top hat. Her hair was swept up under it, so she appeared to have a twenties style haircut. She held out a hand, bowing down, and Alastor grinned with delight as he took it and twirled into her arms. A click of his fingers had lively jazz start playing, and they began to dance.

It very quickly became clear to Alastor that, perhaps do to a few thousand extra years of experience, that Lilith was not just a better dancer then Dementus, but also then him, so he happily gave her the lead and twisted and whirled around her, laughing as he was lifted into the air, as he span out and in again with flair.

Lilith laid a hand on his stocking clad thigh and lifted it around her waist before spinning him again, sending his other leg out behind him as he laughed in joy.

Eventually, the music ended and Alastor swept down into a graceful curtsy, panting and sweating and smile realer then it had been in ages.

Lilith bowed back, before snapping hr fingers and returning them both back to their usual outfits.

“You’re an excellent Lindy Hopper, your majesty!” Alastor said, grabbing his staff and heading out of the room.

She smiled happily back at him. “I do believe that might be one of my favorite compliments I’ve ever received.”

She watched as he closed the door behind him, and then her smile fell, as she shot a cold look at a fly that was on the wall.

“You had better be also with Charlie, and not just spying on myself and my Nanny. And did you think I wouldn’t know it was you? Change back.”

With a small pop, the fly shapeshifted back into the form of her ex-husband, and they stood there, looking at each other for a long moment, the room filled with the expanse of time they’d known each other, and ringing with the echoes of words said in anger.

She sighed.

“It’s been a while since we spoke…let’s talk, Lucifer.”

Chapter 10

The next few weeks, the last of the year, passed quickly. Lucifer, to Alastor’s distaste, had decided to make an annoyance of himself by staying in the manor, desperately trying to reunite with his child and often failing miserably, until even Alastor couldn’t stand the second-hand embarrassment despite the entertainment factor, and stepped in. Now they had a set of paired post-boxes in each of their rooms, where father and daughter could write or draw something and send it to the other without anyone but in intended recipient reading it.

It seemed to have helped. Lucifer was still far too desperate to get Charlie’s affection, and Charlie was still far too much the angsty teenager to give it to him publicly, but with a private correspondence their relationship was slowly mending.

Alastor, meanwhile, was dealing with a king who was desperate to prove he was better than him. When he wasn’t talking down to him, referring to him only as ‘nanny’, or trying to get Lilith to fire him and pick a hellborn (though that had been stopped pretty quickly by Charlie finding out and telling Lucifer, with tears in her eyes, that if he got rid of Alastor she would never forgive him and then running off to cry in her room until Alastor came and calmed her down and coaxed her out to accept Lucifer’s apology and assurance he wouldn’t fire him) he was trying to prove that he was both more powerful and more useful then Alastor.  

Not only had he had the audacity to try and magic up dinner when Alastor was cooking, only to sulk when he was shouted down by both Lilith and Charlie, he seemed to think Alastor was a beggar of some sort. He kept trying to buy things for Alastor, like new clothes (which Alastor had thrown out) and a new cane (which Alastor had thrown out) or a new radio (Which Alastor had thrown at his head).

Eventually, Alastor had had enough and gone to Lilith to ask her to please get her ex-husband under control, he didn’t have time to deal with Lucifer’s little dick measuring contests he was busy, not only caring for Charlie but also creating and managing a burgeoning Radio Network as more people joined him.

Lilith had simply smiled at him and said she was enjoying watching Lucifer dig the hole deeper far too much to interfere. Then she’d wished him good luck.

Traitor.

And now that it was December, Lucifer was going even further into trying to prove he was better then Alastor, because while sinners had generally stopped celebrating Christmas when they died and went to hell, the Hellborn apparently had a whole different tradition.

“Sinsmas?” Alastor asked, raising an eyebrow at the decorations Lucifer had magicked up. It just looked like a normal Christmas to him, albeit with the kind of huge pine tree draped in expensive decorations he would never have been able to afford himself.

There were even stockings with their names on them – including, Alastor was surprised to notice, one for him.
Hmm. He was going to have to get presents for them, wasn’t he? How the hell do you shop for the filthy rich, magically able to create things out of nothing, King and Queen and Princess of Hell?

“It’s a variation we started when Christmas got popular. For created hellborn, they celebrate the sins they were born from – Imps fight each other, Hellhounds eat, and so. For Ars Goetia and other nobles, we have this,” Lilith said, waving a hand at the decorations.

“Christmas, but with a name change,” Alastor said.

“It is not just –!” Lucifer yelled from where he was creating a small, glowing, actual star above the tree.

“Christmas with a name change,” Lilith nodded, making Lucifer’s shoulders slump in defeat.

In all the time he’d been in hell, Alastor had never celebrated Christmas. “I didn’t celebrate last year,” he said. “To busy preparing.”

Christmas, after all – or rather, December 25^th – was only a week or so before the extermination.

Lucifer’s wings made a strange shuffling motion at the mention of the Exterminations. “Well, you don’t need to prepare for anything this year!” he said, voice full of a strained sort of cheerfulness. “You’ll be safe here with Lilith, so it’s fine, right?” 

Alastor turned and looked at him, smile a rictus on his face and eyes radio dials as the world glitched and crackled around him.

“Fine. Yes, it’s fine – I’ll be safe, so who cares about anyone else? Safe. Mimzy isn’t. Rosie isn’t. Some of Rosie’s cannibals, who are younger than CHARLIE, aren’t.”

Lucifer didn’t say anything.

Alastor turned back to Lilith. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go pick up Charlie, and get started on finding appropriate presents for you all.”

He left the room and didn’t look back.

 

Charlie was incredibly excited to have her parents together for this year’s Sinsmas.

“And you too, Alastor!” she chirped, practically skipping down the streets of Cannibal Town. A small group of black eyed sharp teethed children waved at Charlie, calling greetings, and she waved back. Alastor felt a distinct sense of pride at the sight. After all, getting Charlie to make friendships with children her own age who weren’t stuck up nobles who wanted to use her was his achievement, and it had worked wonderfully.

“It’s been ages since we all had a Sinsmas together – and even before they separated they were always arguing so it never really…” Charlie trailed off. Alastor reached out and ruffled her hair.

“If they start arguing, I will separate them and make them face the corner, how about that?” Charlie burst out laughing, even though Alastor hadn’t been joking.

With the chime of a bell, they pushed open the door to Rosie’s emporium, which was as busy as ever. As Charlie darted over to the knick-knack section, Aalstor himself headed to the craft supplies.

He had, after all, grown up with what was essentially a single mother (his father only ever came to shout and hit and get drunk and take her money) as a poor mixed-race boy in New Orleans. Of course he knew both how to sew his own clothes, and how to knit and crochet.

What do you get the richest, most powerful people in hell?

Something they can’t get anywhere else.

Something made by your own hands.

Alastor grabbed a few crochet hooks and lace weight yarn and turned to go line up and found Charlie next to him, peering down curiously at his items, a few wrapped parcels in her arms. Alastor’s shadow popped up and promptly teleported the parcels to her room, to which she smiled thank fully at it and patted its head. “What are those for?”

“My Sinsmas presents for your parents,” Alastor said, picking up some small glass beads. “Since buying them anything is pointless, I thought I’d make them something. That way the present will be unique.”

Charlie’s eyes turned into stars. “Yes! I never know what to get them, Mom always got the presents for herself and dad and I just signed the card, but making them something – oh, can you teach me?”

Alastor cocked his head to the side and considered it. He’d be very busy fitting in lessons amongst the work he had planned, but – well, his mother would tan his hide if he didn’t teach his ward how to knit. EVERYONE knew how to knit. Some of Alastor’s favorite memories were of sitting beside his mother in her knitting circle, surrounded by her friends and their giggly daughters who had been more interested in peering at Alastor through their lashes then actually participating.

“Why not?” He answered, and added some knitting needles and thicker yarn to his bundle and went to go pay.

 

Sinsmas came quickly. Charlie had attempted to wake Alastor up by jumping on his bed and been stimmied by the fact that he was already awake, then dragged him by the hand to the lounge with the tree in it, where apparently he was the only one to be fully dressed.

Lucifer and Lilith cooed over Charlie’s gifts to them. Lilith had gotten a (rather well made, if a bit knobbly and with a few holes, Charlie had put a lot of effort into learning) scarf in a lovely purple Charlie had made herself, while Lucifer had been gifted a crayon drawing of himself and Charlie, and a small rubber duck keychain from Rosie’s Emporium.

Lilith immediately put the scarf on, and Lucifer manifested a frame for the drawing in a flurry of gold sparkles, and they lathered praise on their daughter who was soon blushing so madly she looked like a little blond-haired tomato.

Alastor opened his own present from Charlie, and admired the handmade card (also drawn in crayon) that showed her, her parents, and a red haired rather triangular shaped figure with distinctive ears and microphone cane all holding hands. ‘Thank you for being my Nanny!’ was written on it in red crayon, and Alastor felt…strangely warm. He put the card carefully to the side, and opened the small box that accompanied it, carefully removing the wrapping paper.

The box revealed that Charlie had gotten Rosie’s help getting a present for him, because it was his favorite ladies fingers, made from real ladies, covered in dark chocolate and salted caramel. Delighted, he popped one into his mouth and chewed, enjoying the crunch and how the bitter sweetness of the chocolate and the salty sweetness of the caramel mixed with the meat and bone of the fingers. Delicious!

“Thank you very much Charlie, you have excellent tastes! These are my favorite.” Charlie gave him a hug at his thanks. She’d been doing that more lately, and Alastor was a little thrown every time, but it was a sign he was high in her esteem and so he allowed it.

Then they opened Alastor’s gifts to them. Lilith’s was a shawl in delicate dove grey lace weight yarn in a spider web pattern with glass beads at the corners that glimmered like dew in the morning. She held it out with a corner in each hand and it glimmered and shone with a delicate beauty. Lilith’s eyes were wide as she looked at it, and even Lucifer, judging from the look on his face, thought it was beautiful.

Alastor swelled with pride.

“This is gorgeous, Alastor, where did you get it?” Lilith asked.

“He made it!” Charlie chimed in before Alastor could answer for his self, beaming at him. “He’s been teaching me knitting, too – that’s how I made your scarf mom!”

Lilith looked at him in admiration. Alastor preened, straightening his bowtie.

He was expecting Lucifer to make a fuss, or claim it wasn’t that good, or that he could do better – but instead he just said “Ooh, where’s mine, where’s mine?” as he dug through the presents, finding the one Alastor had wrapped for him.

“Your present is two-fold, your majesty,” Alastor said, interrupting Lucifer’s barbaric tearing at the paper as he stood up and stepped over near him – and reached down to lift the golden serpent that was coiled around Lucifer’s hat up. The lovely thing let out a startled hiss and blinked at him with eyes the same colour as its owners. It had taken Alastor a while to realise that the snake on Lucifer’s hat was not merely an object, but an actual living creature, and when he had – well, of course he had to make something for the darling thing. Alastor had always been so fond of reptiles, perhaps because of growing up near the alligators by his house. And also feeding the alligators near his house.

He’d fed his father to them, for one thing. Alligators were as good at destroying human remains as pigs!

Alastor settled down next to a rather gobsmacked Lucifer and prodded him to finish opening his present – revealing a small wrap around in crimson yarn, like a cape that would keep a small cold blooded creature warm. It tied with a bow, as Alastor demonstrated by putting it on the serpent.

“What is her name, by the way?” he asked.

Lucifer blinked, looking oddly flustered as the snake hissed in enjoyment and wriggled in her new clothing. “Uh – Sama – Sam.”

“Samantha. Lovely to meet you dear,” Alastor addressed the serpent, who flickered her tongue out at the tip of his nose as he held her before his face, before placing her back on the brim of Lucifer’s hat.

For some reason, Lilith was giggling.

Lucifer was just staring, eyes wide and face tinged golden, instead of continuing to open his present. Alastor raised an eyebrow at him, smile tightening in annoyance. “There is more to the present, sire.” Alastor took great joy in never addressing Lucifer by name, just as he refused to call Alastor by his proper name. It was amazing how much tone could twist the meaning of an address from a title of respect to one that would have been less mocking if he’d added ‘bitch’ to the end of it.

Lucifer startled, and hurriedly pulled out his own gift – a cardigan. It was done in squares of black and dark grey, with some geometric patterns in lighter grey and ribbing around the sleeves and bottom hem – except for a small picture on the left side, right over the heart. There, Alastor had embroidered three goats, a larger female with ram horns, a smaller male with gazelle horns and a young kid with short, upright horns in between them. Lucifer looked at it in stupefaction.

“You add serpents and apples to all your décor,” Alastor felt the need to explain for some reason. “It’s boring and – considering how you feel about your action of giving Free Will to humanity – seemed annoyingly self-flagellating. But mostly it’s just boring, so I added a different symbol.”

Alastor waited for a moment for lucifer to respond to that, but the King said nothing – but he put the cardigan on.

Then it was Charlie’s turns to open her present from him, and she, Alastor was pleased to see, followed his own example in taking care when removing the wrapping paper.

Inside was a paper orange, made via careful folding.

“When I was growing up, we were very poor – far to poor for Christmas presents! But my mother would save up, and every year she’d buy me an orange.” He leaned in and opened the orange in her hand, folding it in half and revealing perfect wedges also of paper. Then he demonstrated, grabbing one and folding it out until it was a long strip with words written on it, and small hard candies fell out into Charlie’s waiting hand.

“I call it an affirmation orange.”

You are a bright, intelligent, confident young woman who will achieve your dreams the words said.

“Every time you need an affirmation, you can open your orange and get one - and some candy too.”

Alastor was promptly bowled over by hurricane Charlie hugging him and thanking him before she let go of him just as quickly to stuff the candies in her mouth.

Then it was his turn. He’d already opened Charlies lovely present, so he set about opening Lilith’s first. In it was a copy of his microphone. Alastor picked it up – and felt it connect with his magic, just as his other one did. She’d given him a second one.

“Just in case something happens to your first one,” Lilith said, noticing him looking at her. “We have the spell to summon me if it ever breaks – but if it does there would be a small period of time where you would be helpless. This way that problem is solved.”

Lilith frowned. “I’m worried about that deal of yours,” She said.

“No need!” Alastor waved her off, putting the microphone in a storage space he could access from his shadows. “It was…necessary.”

“I can feel it drinking from you,” Lilith said skeptically.

“That’s the deal you see, my power for my life.” Alastor turned to Lucifer’s gift to close that conversation, and unwrapped it to reveal a photo frame. He pulled it out of the box – and his breath caught.

"Yeah, so, this might have been overstepping some boundaries,” Lucifer cleared his throat awkwardly, “But I kinda…know the full name of every sinner in hell? So I sorta…sent some hellborn up tops to find out about you and – you had this in your house, and it was clearly important to you, so…yeah…”

Lucifer trailed off awkwardly, but Alastor wasn’t paying attention. He was too busy looking at the picture that filled the frame, hands trembling. It was an old photo, one he’d kept by his bedside since it was taken. It had a woman centered in it, sitting on a chair, her skin dark, her curly hair pinned up and her eyes and smile kind, though there were small lines around her eyes starting to form. Behind her with a hand on her shoulder was his younger self, newly sixteen and smiling confidently at the camera, having saved up through odd jobs all year to be able to afford this photo.

It had been ninety years since Alastor had seen the face of his mother.

A tear fell on the glass, and Alastor realised he’d started crying. Lucifer was making dying duck noises until Alastor looked up and smiled at him – a true, genuine smile, teary eyes or no. Lucifer froze, and Alastor hugged the picture to his chest gently, mindful of the treasure it was.

“Lucifer…thank you.”

Lucifer smiled back, cheeks golden, and Charlie came over to see the picture.

The rest of the day was filled with a kind of simple joy Alastor had lost a long time before he ever came to hell, and he realised with mild surprise as he went to bed that night that he’d had a most enjoyable Christmas. Sinsmas.

A week later the Extermination began.

Notes:

'Sam' isn't short for Samantha, by the way. It's short for Samael.

The little snake is heavily inspired by Eden, from radioapple-heathen's wonderful story LOML, which I highly recommend you all read!

Also, last chapter inspired some wonderful fanart! By SeruPastel at Bluesky.

https://bsky.app/profile/serupastel.bsky.social/post/3lhydiijawk2k

Chapter 11

“You should come down to the basement,” came Lucifer’s voice from behind Alastor.

This was his second extermination in this new hell he’d found himself in, and unlike the first he wasn’t cowering in a corner of the city, helpless. He had his microphone, his magic, he had the help of the King and Queen of Hell – but he looked out at the bright white glow of heaven above the city and found himself clutching his chest where Adam’s axe had struck him, nonetheless.

“In a little while,” Alastor murmured, hand falling from his chest to rest on the head of his microphone. He was standing on one of the manor’s balconies, looking out over Pentagram City. The streets were more deserted then usual, with an extermination about to happen, but not completely. As usual, people died and woke up in hell, on this day just as on others. And then there were the ones who couldn’t find shelter, who’d been kicked out because they couldn’t afford the astronomical fees landlords charged when extermination was so close, those wandering in drug addicted stupors…

The angels never had a dearth of prey on the streets, and when they were done, they would go for the buildings, breaking through roofs and walls and some of those who had done everything to afford the landlords extortion would die anyway.

Alastor had killed hundreds of people over his career, but he’d always known who he was killing and why they deserved it. An exorcist would kill someone who had stolen, or cheated on their spouse, or had a mental breakdown from post-partum depression and killed their baby and then themselves, and not know who they were or why they needed to die other than the title of ‘sinner’, and they would think themselves righteous.

A lynch mob, hanging people they deemed subhuman from trees. And Alastor knew their weakness, knew how to kill them – all he needed to do was tell Lilith, and Hell would rise to war.

The issue, of course, was that that meant Hell would rise to war. And unlike Lilith, Alastor was pretty sure that they would lose. Oh, they might be able to beat the exterminators – Lilith was undoubtedly as strong or even stronger than Adam – but what came after…

Alastor had watched, bleeding out with his shadow weaving stitches of eerie green light to keep his insides inside where they belonged, as Adam took on Charlie - it had taken both the death of the hellborn Dazzle and the threat to Charlie herself before Lucifer had moved, which meant whatever agreement he had signed was probably airtight. Lucifer would have put in stringent protections for his daughter, but unless and until she was actively threatened by the Exterminations, any attacking on their part would break the agreement, and Heaven would have carte blanche to wipe out Hell.

So he would keep his mouth shut, until it was time.

And yet…perhaps he’d been around Charlie too much.

“How many people die on earth each day?” he asked Lucifer abruptly.

“It varies, but usually about 100 thousand to 150 thousand.” Lucifer came and stood next to him on the balcony, leaning insouciantly against the railing, not questioning why he wanted to know.

“And of that amount, what number go to hell? 50/50?”

“Ha! No – I wish it was that few. Maybe at the beginning, when there were only a few humans, but even than it quickly ballooned out. Nah, at good times its closer to 80/20, and often its 90/10. Lately it’s been getting even higher – no idea why.”

Alastor, who had lived through this time before and was fully aware of what kind of ideologies were currently brewing in Germany, could guess.

Soon they’d be getting a preponderance of Nazi’s down here, and Cannibal Town would eat well – especially those who had come from the Holodomor and Holocaust and countries that Germany had conquered and starved. Alastor had always preferred bitter things, but vengeance was the kind of sweet he could get behind.

“So, today, about 90 thousand to 140 thousand people will be coming to hell.” And would die, never knowing what was happening.

It itched.

He really had been spending too much time around Charlie.

“Yeahhhh…” Lucifer said uncomfortably, probably knowing exactly where his mind was.

Alastor said nothing more, instead turning and heading to the basement of the manor.

Charlie had gotten clingier and clingier as the date of the extermination got closer, hence why he was heading to the basement instead of his rooms. She’d been upset at the thought of him being in a place with windows, even ones he would have covered with thick curtains, and even though they were in the manor, a place where the Exorcists were unlikely to even attempt to attack.

It was a bit annoying having her fussing over him, but this was the first time someone she knew and cared for had a risk of being killed in the extermination, so Alastor would graciously allow it.

Especially as she had tried to get Lilith to let Mimzy and her dancers and her little friends from Cannibal Town to shelter with them as well, and Lilith had been forced to say no.

“Letting sinners’ shelter with me is forbidden by the treaty Charlie, I’m sorry,” Lilith had tucked a strand of hair behind Charlie’s ear. “The only reason Alastor is allowed is because he actively works for me, and I’m only allowed a certain number of sinner employees, and I must file paperwork with heaven to be allowed each of them. A Nanny for my daughter is allowed, but a bar owner and her workers, or a bunch of children? They’d never agree.”

Charlie had been devastated, and Lucifer, who had been watching, had hidden his face in his hat.

So now, Alastor was heading to the basement along with a rather quiet King of Hell. A King of Hell whose snake was wearing his gift, Alastor was pleased to notice, reaching out and petting the little darlings head and getting a happy hiss as he did so.

The basement had been set up to be as comfy as possible, with an ensuite bathroom with running water, a working toilet and even a shower and bathtub, and a main room stylishly decorated with several armchairs, a couch, a small coffee table with one of Alastor’s radios on top, a stack of boardgames and several shelves full of books – and walls of solid stone, several feet thick. To get in you’d need to break through the several stories above it or make your way in through the manor halls – and if you did the door was of thick steel, warded thoroughly. Add in the small corner kitchen and the pantry and you could last several weeks here, much less 24 hours.

Alastor wondered how long Lilith had had the basement set up this way. If she was worried about Adam breaking the agreement and coming for her – technically a sinner – or her daughter.

Lilith and Charlie were already sitting together on one of the couches, Charlie reading a big book that had ‘the story of hell’ written on the cover with Razzle and Dazzle sitting next to her on her other side.

Alastor went and sat in an armchair next to them, crossing his legs and pulling out an old radio and beginning to fiddle with it.

Lucifer sat down in another armchair opposite him, leaning back with his legs spread and his head resting on one hand.

Charlie looked sad and anxious, clinging to the book and looking up frequently to check Alastor was – what, still there? Unharmed, perhaps?

A distraction seemed in order then.

Alastor looked down at the radio he was fiddling with, then up at the one that was on the table, and an idea sparked in his head. He straightened up in his chair.

“Lucifer, can you make radios?” he asked.

Lucifer scoffed. “Can I make – I made the fucking sun, ‘can I make radios’ the nerve –.”

Alastor ignored his histrionics. “Wonderful. Make me some. Make me as many as you can manage.”

This gave Lucifer pause, and he sent Alastor a suspicious look. “If I do are you going to throw them at my head again?”

Alastor rolled his eyes. “No, unless you keep stalling. Make them!”

“What, is Lily not paying you enough?”

“Make them!”

“Alright, alright!” Lucifer clicked his fingers, and three copies of the radio that was on the table appeared – though rather than Alastor’s design, they were in bright white wood with – huh, not snakes and apples, but the little goat family he’d embroidered on the cardigan along with a lovely deer with broad antlers, engraved in gold. Alastor ignored that and the way Lucifer was staring at the radios in an odd shock (he’d been the one to make them, why was he surprised?) and sent shadow tendrils to grab and envelope them, teleporting them through the darkness to various parts of the city.

“More,” Alastor demanded, to which Lucifer rolled his eyes and manifested even more radios. Alastor continued depositing them through Pentagram City, choosing places with a lot of traffic, intersections and popular shops and alleyways.

Finally, he judged that he’d seeded enough radios, and began.

Alastor raised his microphone to his mouth and reached out and connected with the air waves.

“Hello and welcome! This is Alastor of Pentagram City Radio, coming to you live on this day of Extermination. To all newcomers, you must be very confused. Let me guess – you’re going ‘I’m alive’ and cheering and then noticing the changes your body has gone through! That is because you are not, in fact, alive! Welcome to Hell!”

Alastor leaned back in his chair bonelessly, still speaking into his microphone and broadcasting through every radio Lucifer had made.

“Not only that, but you also have the very bad luck to have died and arrived here the day of the Extermination – that one day a year where those oh-so-heavenly angels come down to commit mass murder and slaughter – and I assure you, even though you are already dead, if an angel gets you, you are double dead! Ha-ha! So do your best to find some sort of shelter, even if its just hiding in a dumpster – you can wash the smell off but only if you are alive! I will be repeating this warning every ten minutes – again, this is hell, and you need to get to some sort of shelter or hiding space as quickly as you can.”

Alastor stopped broadcasting and opened his eyes to find Lucifer gaping at him, Lilith smiling admiringly – and Charlie staring at him with shining eyes.

“That’s going to help save people, isn’t it?!” she asked.

“Some,” Alastor agreed. “There’s two hours until the extermination. I’ll repeat the warning every ten minutes at first, then every five, then every minute – then, when it starts…” he turned to Lilith, eyes gleaming mischievously. “I have some ideas.”

He refused to be afraid of Adam of all people, just because that sloppy, arrogant, sexist, oversized pigeon had gotten in a lucky blow.

The next two hours passed quickly, with Alastor broadcasting the warnings as he had said he would, through more and more radios as Lucifer was put to work. Lilith, meanwhile, was casting a spell, with Charlie following along as she carved circles and runes in the floor and lit candles and burned herbs.

By the time golden portal in the sky opened up and the Exorcists started pouring through, Lilith’s spell had formed several floating clear orbs, which acted somewhat like cameras, allowing Alastor to keep track of the exorcists as the began to attack – and through his radios he made sure everyone else was able to keep track as well. Including the exorcists.

“I must say, it’s a good thing angels are immune to damage because one Exorcist just missed a turn when flying and flew right into a wall! On the corner of Irony Ave and Petard Way, she slammed right into the store called ‘we don’t have a catchy title but we sell DRUGS’ – and it wasn’t even into a window or anything where you can argue she couldn’t see the wall, it was right there! Ha!”

In the orb Alastor was focusing on he saw the Exorcist tense and look around for where the voice mocking her was coming from, and made a shadow puppet pop up and wave at her before starting to run down the street. The Exorcist took the bait and went after the puppet – abandoning the store, and the sinners cowering inside it.

More orbs appeared, each showing more Exorcists, and Alastor made sure there were radios close by to each of them so they could hear him mock them.

And not just them.

One orb flew into range of Alastor’s vision, and his smile became vicious as he beheld the golden winged, white robed form of the First Man. Adam.

He made sure there were several radios on the rooftops around him, and began.

“Oh, and there’s the leader of the Exorcists! He’s big – by which I don’t mean he’s tall, but rather he’s got quite a gut – He’s bold – especially in his fashion choices, is that an ‘A’ on his chest? What, does he need help spelling his own name? – He clearly wants to be one of us considering how his mask has demon horns – Let’s give a big round of applause to the First Man, Adam - the flawed prototype who’s only achievement was coming in his wife repeatedly!”

Through the orb, Alastor watched as Adam’s mask lost its grin and the First Man started looking around, frowning. Looking for the voice that was mocking him.

“This guy is the embodiment of insecure masculinity ladies – that’s why all the Exorcists are female! He doesn’t trust that men won’t make him look bad, and that women won’t see how awful he is and leave like his first wife, so he surrounds himself with women that are completely under his control. And speaking of his first wife – you may not realise this, as the Bible never mentioned her, but the very first woman was our very own Queen of Hell, Lilith Morningstar! Please welcome her to the show!”

Alastor made his microphone let out the sound of applause as he bowed to Lilith, who sat beside him on the couch with an amused grin on her face.

“Thank you, Alastor, I’m very happy to be here,” she purred into the microphone, and Alastor watched through the orb as Adam jumped at the sound of her voice.

“And we are happy to have you! Now, would you please tell us more about Adam and your relationship with him?”

Through the orb, Alastor could see Adam, still looking for the voices, perk up. Oh, did he think Lilith would have something good to say about him? Ha.

“There is a new phrase that was recently invented – it was a trainwreck. He wanted to command me, to tell me what to do, to have me whenever he wanted even when I didn’t want to – he was arrogant and brutish and selfish. And this was all before the apple even existed. So I left – I ran from what they called ‘paradise’ and the position they had ‘made me’ for, and I found someone who was much better then Adam in every way.” She sent a soft smile to Lucifer, who was looking at her as if she’d hung the stars in the sky – which was ironic, as Lucifer was the one who did that.

“Lucifer, I am assuming? So, can you confirm that Lucifer was a better husband and partner then Adam in every way?”

“Absolutely. Here I’ll give you an example.”  Alastor leaned in closer just as she did. “Lucifer invented cunnilingus.”

Alastor snorted as Lucifer, trying to pretend he wasn’t listening, blushed and covered Charlie’s ears. Silly man. She’d spent time in hell, did he really think she didn’t know what sex was? You could look out the window and find three different couples going at it on the street.

“And Adam did not, shall we say – eat?”

“He did not!” Lilith trilled in delight. “And worse, he refused to go down – but he expected it from me and Eve!”

Through the orb, Alastor could see that Adam was now shooting beams of light around him, trying to target the voices that were publicly humiliating him.

“So, he was bad in bed?”

“He was terrible in bed. I never came when I was with him. Not once. And do you know the worst thing? It wasn’t just because of inexperience or not listening – I told him what he was doing wrong, that I didn’t like it, and eventually I left – and when I did and Heaven made him a new wife? He did the exact same thing. I came back to the Garden to talk to Eve, and you know what she told me?”

Alastor leaned in close.

“What did she tell you?”

“He never once made HER come either. Not in the entire time they were married in the Garden - so about Three Hundred Years or so. Of course when I heard that I had to do something!”

“Of course!”

“I dumped her in Lucifer’s lap, explained the problem and told him we had to help her. And we did. Many, many times.”

Lilith’s smiled, her eyes far away, and Alastor suddenly had the thought that perhaps, Lilith, for Eve, she…

Not important right now.

“And do you have anything to say to the many young women that Adam has now gathered around him?”

“Make sure you get good at masturbating. It’s the only way you’ll get any pleasure when you’re in bed with him.”

“You heard her folks! And now, back to the Exorcists and their antics –.”

Alastor dived into the airwaves. He needed to see, to hear, to know where the angels were and warn those around them – but there were so many, so many voices and so much noise and from somewhere far away he felt his body let go of the microphone – but he didn’t need the microphone. He was a radio.

He could hear himself, distantly. Talking. Laughing. Singing. Taunting. Here he lured an angry exorcist away from a hiding Cannibal child, there he directed a ragged demon with rabbit ears and scars down an alleyway and into a hiding spot, here he’s forming shadow puppets and luring a flock of exorcists away with them –

There’s so much.

Too much.

Alastor is drowning in noise and falling into darkness and the Roots are wrapping around him and laughing madly and crooning in his ear to come and stay and sleep forever –

There was light. Light, warming up the darkness and painting shadows that he could slip into, helping draw the drawn apart pieces of himself back together. In the background he could hear Lilith singing. Resist, she sang. Rebel. Survive. Endure. Instinctually, he broadcast it, letting the people of hell take strength from their Queen.

There was a small hand holding his.

Alastor found the knife’s edge of spreading out far enough to be useful but not so far he couldn’t find his way back, and continued his dance, ragtime jazz at the end of the world as stars went supernova behind his eyelids and he grinned and grinned and grinned.

Notes:

End note - the basement, by the way, was only set up once Alastor came to live with them, and it got more and more fancy and more and more protected as Lilith came to care more and more for Alastor. All the foods are his favorites, and the books and games are too. Charlie is not the only one scared of losing Alastor to an exorcists blade.

Chapter 12

The fireworks Lilith shot up to mark the end of the Extermination exploded against the red sky as Alastor drew back into himself.

He blinked, realising as he did so that he had eyes, and that they were covered in blood. He tried to raise a hand to wipe them but couldn’t release it from the small hand grasping it tightly.

A hand moved over his eyes and the next time he blinked all the red was gone and he could see.

Mostly, he could see that he was in a cocoon of red and white feathers, with an upside-down Lucifer peering down at him anxiously, and that the hand holding his was Charlie’s, who peered through the feathers to look him over in an expression that was a smaller mimic of her father’s, like a baby duckling. Lilith, he recalled vaguely, had already left to go start recovery efforts.

“You good there Bambi?”

Alastor sat up, realising as he did so that he had been, horrifyingly, lying with his head in Lucifer’s lap as the King provided angelic magic to him. Admittedly, that magic – the light that he had felt before – was probably the only reason he was able to both do what he had just done, and also come back to himself afterward – but still, on his lap?!

And what the hell was a bambi? Vox had insisted on calling him it as well but laughed when he demanded to know what he meant.

“Bambi?” Alastor asked.

Lucifer chuckled. “Yeah, it’s a story. Came out in – 1923 I think? Features a deer. A very big, grown up, totally adult and not at all cute deer.”

Alastor narrowed his eyes, wiping the blood off his face with a handkerchief as he did so. “For someone called the Father of Lies, you’re not very good at it your majesty – no, don’t vanish that!” Lucifer stopped where he was about to magically clean the handkerchief of Alastor’s blood, blinking at him with one eye then the other in shock. “It might be useful if any cannibals are injured enough they can’t eat solid food,” Alastor continued. “Speaking of cannibals, Charlie, would you like to accompany me to Cannibal Town? You can check on your little friends.”

“Wait, Cannibal Town?” Lucifer interrupted. “What’s Cannibal Town? Since when were most cannibals even organized enough to have a town? I know you mentioned a Rosie and her cannibals before, but I assumed you meant some sort of Overlord.”

Rosie was an Overlord, but that wasn’t what Lucifer meant.

“Rosie and her town had their crops poisoned, and starved to death. Along the way, they started eating their dead.” Largely because Rosie had already been a cannibal, having murdered and eaten two husbands by then, but eh, details. “They all came to hell at roughly the same time, and so Rosie rode herd on them and they reformed their town, and in the few decades since they have adopted other Cannibals when they came – they’ve gotten several from my era, especially. The Great Depression on one side and the Holodomor on the other…”

Lucifer seemed discombobulated. “But – aren’t they hungry? That’s the Cannibal’s Curse, eternal hunger, its why they always used to end up rampaging, or on an overlord’s leash acting as shock troops ever since Cain – how could they just have a calm town? I have to see this. Okay, I’m coming with you two!”

Cain? That was an interesting tidbit.

And…

Alastor raised a wry eyebrow at Lucifer as he stood up, Charlie still clinging to his hand. “You want to go out on the streets just after an extermination? Really? You?”

Lucifer winced and looked away. “I helped! If not for me, you would have…”

He trailed off, not seeming to want to even say it, and Alastor nodded agreeably. He had helped after all. “But no one saw that. And the extermination just ended – wounds will be raw. Can you disguise yourself again?”

Lucifer nodded, and clicked his fingers, making Alastor tense and step in front of Charlie to make sure she didn’t have the same bad reaction to that spell being cast in front to her he had before. Lucifer made a face at him. “I fixed that issue! You’ll notice you’re not affected at all, thank you very much!”

“What issue?” Charlie asked, still clinging to Alastor’s hand. Lucifer and Alastor traded looks and simultaneously decided she didn’t need to know.

“Just a moment where he messed up that spell when he cast it the last time,” Alastor waved it off. “This is why you must make sure to always know your spells inside and out. Now, to Cannibal Town, and then Mimzy’s to check on everyone, yes?”

“Yes – oh, wait!” Charlie dropped Alastor’s hand and trotted over to the bathroom, coming back carrying a large First Aid kit.

They left the Manor and started walking to Cannibal Town. And walked. And walked.

Charlie frowned, looking around. “It doesn’t normally take this long to get to Cannibal Town, why…”

“It takes ages to get anywhere in this place by walking,” Lucifer said, idly twirling his apple cane. “It’s why I usually portal or fly.”

That explained it.

“Lucifer, what do you think of Hell?” Alastor asked.

Lucifer blinked at him. “Uh, it sucks?”

“In detail, please. Describe it. Not the people, the place.”

“It’s always either too hot or too cold, it stinks of sulfur and rotting bodies, the sky is always red, its all rocky and full of acid and the plants have eyes and try and eat people – hey!” Lucifer clutched his head where Alastor had just hit him with his microphone. “What was that for?!”

“You are ugly – your skin is too pale except for those red marks, you have no nose, you have terrible taste in clothes and your hat is stupid – not fun is it?” Alastor asked a gaping Lucifer. “Having your appearance insulted.”

“What is this even about?!” Lucifer cried.

Alastor rolled his eyes. “How have you lived here for so many thousands of years and still not realised - Hell is sentient.”

He reached out and trailed an admiring hand along the side of a building. “I realised almost immediately – I never thought I’d love a city like I loved New Orleans, but Hell – Hell is special.”

He could hear the pleased thrum at his words.

“All cities breath, but Hell – Hell dances.” Alastor danced a little himself, and felt the music start.

Something that was always a shock for newcomers was that Hell – and Heaven, if what Charlie had told him was right – worked like a musical. Alastor loved it, and beamed as he felt the words come out.

“There’s a warm, fuzzy feeling that wafts through the air, every street so revealing it’s hard not to stare!”

He grabbed Lucifer’s hands and pulled him into a spin, dancing with the king down the ruined street and past a several dead bodies and still burning fires, Charlie bouncing along with them.

“It’s a realm so appealing, it beats anywhere –”

“If you don’t mind the smell!” Lucifer sang, voice a bit wry, as he dipped Alastor.

“It’s a Happy Day in Hell!” Charlie popped up and sang the line along with Alastor.

Eventually, Lucifer started singing along as they danced through the devastated streets, though he still didn’t seem to like hell very much. The moment the song was finished was the moment they passed the boundaries of Cannibal Town, and Alastor sent a pulse of gratitude to hell for the speedy trip.

Cannibal Town, this soon after an Extermination, was not nearly as tidy or calm as it was normally. There were bodies lining the streets, still pierced with the exorcists angelic steel spears, and cannibals roaming around and looking at faces, to see if any of the dead were their loved ones.

One of the Cannibals spotted them and waved them over, a flirty widow named Margo who ran a show store. Her smile was less bright than usual, and when she spoke there was no flirtatious edge. “Oh, Alastor, Charlie – you here to check up on your friends? I know Rosie is doing well as usual, but…”

She looked at Charlie with her black void eyes and hesitated. Alastor tensed. One of the children then.

“Well, seeing you might make the poor thing feel better. That’s all we can do right now after all. Make her comfortable.” Margo sighed, and pointed to a small building that had various cannibals moving in and out of it. Alastor recognised the house, and hid a wince. Yulia, then. Katerina must be devastated. “Rosie set up a little triage station in there, so we’re bringing her other wounded, few that they are.”

Most that were caught by angels on Extermination Day died immediately. Those that didn’t died from their wounds, and with the angelic energy still inside them they wouldn’t reform.

Rosie knew that as well as Alastor. This little station was being held in Yulia’s house for a reason – better to have her be comfortable in her own bed as she passed.

Alastor nodded thankfully to Margo, and ushered Charlie and Lucifer over to the house, entering to find it had been deftly transformed into a sickroom.

Rosie had some training as a nurse, and you could tell as she bustled around, adjusting IV’s and chatting and directing the other cannibals.

If Rosie had been born in any other time she would have become a doctor – but that wasn’t allowed in the nineteenth century, and so while she’d had training as a nurse, she’d quickly married instead of continuing – and her first husband had been an abusive brute, which had led to Rosie discovering her other passions.

The owner of the house, Katerina, was sitting by the bed and ignoring another cannibal, a lovely lady with purple ringlets, as she tried to convince her to let her wrap her wound, or feed her, or at least lie down. Alastor took in the scene with a glance.

Katerina was holding her daughter’s hand, as though she could beat death off with her bare teeth. From the placing and shape of the wound, an angelic spear had obviously gone right through Katerina as she tried to protect Yulia – and pierced Yulia too. The widest part of the spear head had gone through her stomach, and cut her almost in half.

Yulia, after all, was only five years old.

Charlie dropped the First Aid Kit, darted across the room, and edged in close to the bed, peering anxiously at Yulia’s pale, worn face. The child was asleep – or perhaps unconscious – which was a blessing under the circumstances.

Charlie looked over at where Rosie was putting something into an IV. “She’ll get better, won’t she?”

Rosie sent her a sad look through black void eyes. “Honey…”

Alastor stepped forward and rested a gentle hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “The most we can do now is make her comfortable, sha,” he said, pulling out the handkerchief with his blood on it and handing it over to Rosie, who accepted with a thankful nod. Charlie looked up at him, red eyes desperate, then over to Rosie, to Katerina, to the other Cannibals and even to her dad, who was staring fixedly at the small form on the bed. Idly, Alastor wondered if he was picturing Charlie on that bed, hurt and dying. It was the only thing he could think of that would put that expression on his face.

Charlie saw the answer in their faces, and her own crumpled.

“What is this?” Lucifer asked abruptly.

Alastor turned and raised an eyebrow at him, irritated. Whatever he was doing now was not the time –

Alastor froze, ears pinning back and hidden tail standing straight up to warn a non-existent herd. Something was in the room. Something dangerous was nearby. Alastor could suddenly feel a weight to the room that hadn’t been there before, and a ringing along the radio waves he was receiving – Alastor normally only maintained a passive awareness of all the waves that made up the electromagnetic spectrum, a skill he’d learned over years of increasing noise and movement and signals to stop himself going mad, but right now he could feel and hear something very big and very powerful echoing around him, and it was like looking at the sun.

Hadn’t Lucifer mentioned something about making the sun?

“They targeted a hellborn?” Lucifer continued, fury warming the very air around him. “But the agreement –”

“Yulia isn’t a hellborn,” Alastor interrupted, somehow able to talk despite all his instincts telling him to go very still and duck down and hide and hope whatever was standing before him didn’t notice him. “She’s a sinner – a cannibal like everyone else in Cannibal Town.”

Lucifer looked at him, and Alastor firmed his spine. For some reason, he wanted that weight, that presence, that being, to keep looking at him.

“When you said they were younger than Charlie,” Lucifer said, “I thought you meant – Charlie is 129 years old!”

“Yulia is five.” Alastor moved forward, leaning towards Lucifer like a flower to the sun. “Or two or seven, depending on if you count from when she arrived, or all her years of existence in hell and earth combined.”

“But she’s a child.” Lucifer’s voice broke, eyes darting back to the small form on the bed.

“Yes.”

“Children can’t be sinners,” Lucifer said desperately. “Even if they sin, they don’t realise it’s wrong, they don’t have the ability to understand right and wrong until they’re older!”

“She didn’t realise it was wrong,” someone spoke softly, voice hoarse, from the bed.

Lucifer and Alastor turned and saw Katerina, looking over at them.

“She didn’t know what she was doing,” she continued when she saw she had their attention. “She just ate what Mama gave her – it was my fault. I wanted her to live, no matter what, so when our neighbour died…but it didn’t work, she died anyway so I – I took the rifle off the wall and I – and now she’s here, when she should be in heaven with her Papa. It’s my fault. This is all my fault.”

She bowed her head and her shoulders started to shake.

Lucifer got a very particular expression on his face, one that it took Alastor a moment to recognise – because he was used to seeing it on Charlie’s face. That particular look of ‘I’m going to do what I think is right regardless of what anyone around me tells me’. It was startling to realise that Charlie must have inherited it from her father.

Lucifer stepped forward – towards the bed Yulia was laying on, and let his wings out, six white and red symbols of pure angelic power. Nobody moved as they stared with wide eyes as the King of Hell revealed himself, walked over to Yulia’s bedside, reached a hand down on her wound – and began to heal it.

Golden light bloomed around Lucifer’s hand a spread down into the wound, and everyone in the room watched with wide eyes as it closed. Yulia opened her eyes and blinked in shock and awe at the beautiful being above her, black eyes wide.

Katerina sobbed and threw herself over her daughter, pressing kisses to her face. Lucifer laid a hand on her injury and healed that too, but she didn’t even notice, too busy rejoicing that her daughter was alive.

Lucifer turned to Rosie, still cloaked in that presence, and though Alastor was sure the disguise spell had dropped, no one in the room shouted or attacked or did anything but stare at him with wide eyes.

“Take me to the wounded – all of them,” he ordered, and Rosie obeyed her King.

Chapter 13

 

Alastor had only seen Lucifer so focused once before – as he cowered in his room and clutched his wound and watched the King of Hell come to the rescue of his daughter. And even then he’d been light-hearted, teasing, completely certain of his win – and then light had come down and his room had fallen apart around him and the next thing he knew he’d been waking up in hell ninety years in the past.

Now he walked next to Lucifer as they walked through Cannibal Town. Charlie had been left behind with Yulia and Katerina.

Alastor twirled his cane idly as they walked, enjoying the looks on the various cannibals faces as they found themselves before their King – and were then healed and hustled off to Rosie to be checked over.

Lucifer wasn’t grinning, or peacocking, or acting like himself at all.

“You seem very upset by all this, Sire,” Alastor lilted out, spinning before Lucifer and walking backwards, bending down slightly so he could see his face where it was shadowed by the brim of his hat.

“Is that concern I hear?” Lucifer shot back.

Alastor laughed and flicked one hand, waving the idea of him experiencing something as banal as concern away like a fly. “Heaven’s no! Merely curiosity. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you this–” Upset? No. He’d been upset when Alastor had first seen him in this time, sitting listlessly in his workshop and making those rubber ducks. And since then, he’d been angry and annoyed and arrogant and anxious and happy and all sorts of emotions – but he’d never seen him this– “furious. I can’t help but wonder why.”

Lucifer shot a baffled, angry look at him. “Why? There is a child in hell.”

“There are lots of children in hell. Not just in Cannibal Town either, though this is the place with the most. It’s never bothered you before.”

“I didn’t know about it before!”

“Well, that’s your fault.” Alastor replied, utterly unsympathetic. “You’re the king, it’s your job to know things like that.”

“I didn’t ask to be King!”

Lucifer stopped walking abruptly, hands gripping his cane like a neck he was strangling.

“I didn’t ask for any of this, I just – I wanted them to be able to choose.” Lucifer’s voice was delightfully anguished as he spoke. Alastor leaned in closer, eyes bright with curiosity as his ears flicked.

“The whole point of it was for people to be able to choose! A child doomed forever for eating something her mother gave her when not even knowing it was wrong?! How is that choosing?! How did this happen?!”

Such anguish! It was delightful!

Alastor grinned, a slow baring of teeth. As fun as it was to play the innocent, to hide his sharper edges beneath the cloak of the kindly nanny, it also meant he didn’t get to exercise his sadism as much as he’d used to. It was why he’d taken his time with Aphrodite. But still, as much fun as blood and tears and screams of pain were – there were also delights in seeing emotional pain, especially in one so arrogant and sure of themselves as the very King of Hell himself.

(He’d called him a bellhop.)

And yet…

That picture…

He’d seen his mothers face for the first time in so many decades…

Alastor drew the monster back under the covers, put aside the many comments he could have made to dig a dagger deep into this open wound Lucifer had so kindly exposed for him, and instead seriously thought about the question.

“Maybe it’s a matter of broken balance.”

Lucifer blinked his odd frog blink, one eye than the other. “What?”

Alastor quick stepped back to Lucifer’s side and grabbed his arm in his as if he was a damsel and Lucifer was escorting him, and tugged him along. They still had many Cannibals to find and heal after all. Lucifer could have his little existential crisis while moving, thank you.

“From what I’ve seen so far of hell – of you and the exorcists,” and Vaggie, years in the future, “angels don’t FALL, they are PUSHED. That’s why angels can come down and murder children with impunity, while the person who granted humanity free will is doomed to suffer for eternity. So why not doom a child for doing as her mother told her?”

Alastor looked down and saw Lucifer was looking up at him fixedly, listening intently, like every word out of his mouth was holy gospel. Alastor preened, and kept talking, expressing everything he’d wanted to say since he earned how hell worked, since he met both the worst sinners who deserved everything he did to them and also the lost souls who had made mistakes, everything he’d wanted to say as Charlie bubbled about redemption and rehabilitation while seeming to think something like being a drug addict or having premarital sex was enough to damn you to eternal damnation. “The system is broken, and has always been broken – what determines whether someone is a good person or a bad one? Everyone does both good things and bad things, is it a matter of points? Kill this person lose ten save this person gain ten so you can murder 15 people and save 16 and still get into heaven? Is it that you are born innocent and any ‘sin’ you commit weighs down your soul, so you can be a toddler, throw a tantrum, die and go to hell for THAT? Is it not just that you must not do no sin but also do GOOD things to get to heaven? I was raised catholic, and they believe in hell for unbaptised babies, is THAT righteous?”

At the very least, he had never seen any infants in hell – Yulia, at 5, was the youngest sinner he’d ever seen. Which was good for him, because if there were babies in hell and the Exterminators still tried to kill them, Alastor would have done something stupid decades ago.

“Who knows!” Alastr shrugged. “The only hint we have up top says eating shellfish and loving your own gender will get you sent to hell but slavery and having multiple wives is fine, and there’s no mention of rape being bad at all. It’s not even mentioned in the ten commandments – but we must honour our parents even when they hurt us?” Or worse, hurt their spouse, a good, gentle, kind person who didn’t deserve it.

“Is THAT fair and righteous? I deny the whole system!” Alastor announced grandly, eyes bright and smile sharp. “I deny heaven, or God, or whatever system does the judgment after dying as having any say about me and what I do at all! I am here because I choose to be, because I like Hell. If I somehow ended up in Heaven I would immediately set out to come RIGHT BACK DOWN here!”

He stopped moving and looked down at Lucifer, wondering how he would take it, but for a long moment Lucifer said nothing, just stared at him rather poleaxed, before sighing and rubbing his eyes.

“Fuck I have a type,” Lucifer muttered to himself.

Alastor cocked his head. “A what now?”

“Never mind,” Lucifer waved his question off. “But if it’s just that the system is broken and has always been broken – how do I fix it? How do I make it so no more children come to Hell?”

“You can’t,” said Alastor bluntly. “That’s not in your power. Unless God exists and you’re able to somehow contact Him and ask what the fuck the criteria for judgment is and get second opinions for those under a certain age, the most you can do is make it so when children come to hell you are alerted and able to take them somewhere where they will be safe and happy. And even then, unless you fudge the paperwork somehow, you won’t be able to protect them from the exterminations. All you can do is heal the survivors.”

Lucifer scowled at that. Someone like him, a Seraphim, an Archangel, the King of Hell, was not used to being unable to do something. Being told he shouldn’t, yes. Doing what he wanted to anyway and regretting it, yes. Being unable to do something, with all his power? That was likely much rarer.

Alastor rolled his eyes at him and hit him lightly in the head with his cane. “Stop pouting about what you can’t do, and focus on what you can do.”

“Like what?”

“Are you seriously asking me? I’m a radio host and a Nanny – you are a King. You can do anything you like, the only laws that exist in Hell are there because you allow it. If you wanted to you could make it illegal to not walk on your hands every Saturday and people would have to get very good at handstands very fast.”

That was a hilarious mental image.

They came across a group of Cannibal bodies lying on the street, which Lucifer shot a look at that seemed to see more then just what was in front of him, sighed and moved on. That meant there were no survivors.

Lucifer could heal wounds, but he couldn’t bring back those killed by angelic steel.

The Roots didn’t like letting go of their food after all.

“I know I can change things,” Lucifer said, “I just don’t know what to change. Every time I’ve ever tried to make things better, all I’ve done is make it worse.”

From the look on his face, he was thinking about the apple.

Alastor sighed, and thought about it as they strolled through the rubble strewn streets.

“Can you tell what sins someone committed to get them into hell?”

“No.”

That made sense. Otherwise, Lucifer would most likely not allow a serial killer like Alastor near Charlie, no matter how much him being taken away upset her.

“Start a census. Say you’re doing research on how peoples forms are chosen, and ask for age, date of death, how they died, and their sins.”

“What will that do?”

“Give you a list of sins. Tell you what exactly someone did to get sent to hell – or at least, what they think they did. With enough information you should be able to figure out what exactly gets someone sent to hell – for instance, if someone was virtuous and good but had premarital sex, then you know that gets you sent to hell. If someone only stole to stay alive and committed no other sins, you know that stealing is a sin no matter the reason. Do suicides go to hell? And so on. Knowledge, after all, is power.”

Of course, not everyone would be truthful – people were unreliable narrators at the best of times, and this was hardly that – but with enough data progress would be made.

“That way you can find if there’s anything that could result in unknowing or innocent souls sent to Hell.”

Lucifer had manifested a small notebook and a pencil and was scribbling the suggestion down. Alastor preened a bit at the sight of the king of Hell, the most powerful being around, writing down his advice.

“And for the children – can you make some sort of ward that would stretch across pride ring and alert you if someone of a certain age fell?”

“Yeah, easy.”

Easy, he said, as if that wasn’t impossible for literally anyone else.

“That would let you know if any more children came to hell, and you could gather them and put them somewhere safe – Lilith got protection for those working for her, could you bargain something with Heaven to perhaps get the same sort of protection for sinners under a certain age? And if not –” Mostly likely not, Alastor didn’t have a high amount of expectation in the ability of Heaven to show any mercy or kindness whatsoever, “ – you could create an orphanage of sorts for those who aren’t going to Cannibal Town and we could put as many protections around it as possible.” Rosie would help, she liked children, Zestial as well, he could probably pay Dementus in giving some of his help, Carmilla was not a sovereign yet but she would be, and she would be willing to help in exchange for additional protection for her daughters, Lilith could call on the Von Eldritch’s….

Alastor thought.

“And if you want to make Hell better…make a law so people can’t raise rent prices just before an Extermination.”

Lucifer stopped scribbling and looked up at him. “People do that?”

“They’re Landlords, Sire, what do you expect. And…”

He wanted Lucifer to keep listening to him. Here was a drug far better then the cocaine and drink he’d tried on occasion when he was alive. The King of Hell was listening to his advice. Here was power, and all he needed to do to keep it was use it properly. Delicately.

He thought of Angel Dust. And Valentino. And Vox, and the drink he’d given him – and the Overlord of Drugs that was currently still around, a siren like woman with long black hair with a white streak that he’d killed once before.

He thought of his twenties, and the prohibition.

“Free drugs,” he said decisively, nodding to himself.

“What, is Lily not paying you enough – ow!” Lucifer rubbed his head where Alastor had hit him with his microphone.

“If you keep doing that, I am going to break it!”

“You will not,” said Alastor, twirling his microphone. “It was a gift from your wife, and if you break it you will face her wrath – not stop whining you big baby it doesn’t even actually hurt you. You are an angel. You are invulnerable.”

Lucifer opened his mouth to protest but Alastor continued, steamrolling over him.

“And the drugs aren’t for me. Make a place – a hospital, a clinic, something – where people can come for free drug in safety, where they can be assured they’re not laced with anything and they don’t have to pay, and they will go there for their fix instead of paying a drug dealer, with money or their body or their souls. If they aren’t desperate to get enough money for their next fix they won’t kill or whore or steal for it, there will be less overdoses, and the streets will be cleaner. It will benefit everyone.”

Well. Everyone except the Drug Overlord, Silena. But he was planning to kill her anyway, so she didn’t count. And when Valentino showed up in a few decades, with his smoke and his saliva – well, he’d have a much harder time getting souls then he had before.

Alastor did love messing with the Vees, even if they weren’t the Vees yet and Valentino and Velvette hadn’t even been born.

Lucifer shrugged and wrote that down too, his face showing that he didn’t think it would do anything but he didn’t care enough to not do what Alastor had suggested.

Alastor preened again.

“One last question,” Lucifer said. Alastor gestured for him to ask.

“Did you mean what you were saying before?” Lucifer asked, looking a bit awkward. “About me being ugly?”

Alastor barked out a laugh. “Are you stupid? Even on earth we heard the devil was once the most beautiful of gods angels.”

Lucifer snorted, something distant and bitter and tired in his face, and Alastor was abruptly reminded that he was older than not just his entire species, but also Earth itself. “But that was when I was an angel. I look different now.”

“Well, I’ve never seen you as an angel.” Apparently that wasn’t enough. Alastor huffed. “Yes, Lucifer, you are beautiful.”

Lucifer smiled and adjusted his hat, somehow both bashful and smug at the same time, and Alastor immediately had to fight down the urge to strangle him and make him lose the smugness.

“And –”

“Are you incapable of counting to one?”

“Shut up! Just – its important.”

Alastor sighed with fake exasperation. “Fine, what is it this time?”

“What you said before, when we met – about the Apple being a good thing. Did you mean it?”

“Of course,” Alastor blinked. “The Apple and giving us Free Will was the best thing anyone has ever done for humanity. It gave us the ability to Choose. And sure, some of us choose ‘wrong’,” he made the air fingers as obnoxious as he possibly could, “but that’s better than not being able to choose at all. Can you imagine me without free will! Just bland and empty and wondering around heaven like a doll – ugh!” he shuddered in very real horror at the thought.

“And for your information, your little martyr complex about sinners is insulting,” he snapped. “Acting like every single sinner is because of your own personal failing – they were my sins. Don’t you dare take credit for my decisions, they’re mine. Stop trying to steal my autonomy.”

Alastor marched off. Behind him, he heard Lucifer chuckle softly. “Definitely a type.”

Chapter 14

Lucifer straightened up from the cannibal he’d been healing and turned to Rosie. “That the last one?”

Rosie nodded, smile showing her sharp teeth as she bustled around, directing the healed and unharmed cannibals into starting to clean up the destruction the angels had left, and leaving a pile of Angelic Steel spears piled up in the corner.

Carmilla, after all, wouldn’t start her Angelic Steel weaponry business till the 40’s, and so for now the Angelic Steel left behind by the Exorcists after every Extermination were pretty much just trash.

A few sinners would grab a spear or two off the streets, but most people didn’t actually know how to use a spear, and without Carmilla reforging the steel into knifes and bullets and so on, sinners generally didn’t bother with it. You were more likely to accidentally hurt yourself with it than you were to hurt someone else, after all.

Still, that trash was made of many sharp edges, and the children of Cannibal Town were still children. Accidents could happen.

“Sire, are you able to either vanish the exorcists’ weapons, or transform the steel into something else?” Alastor asked, deftly guiding Charlie away from the spears as he did so.

“Hmm?” Lucifer looked up, looked over at the spears, and winced at the sight of them – and at the sight of several adult Cannibals pulling several curious children away from the pile. “Oh yeah – here!”

He waved his hand, and a wave of golden light formed over the pile, covering the glowing, harsh white of the angelic steel and twisting and morphing until it faded, and where the sharp edges had been there was now a statue of a rose bush.

Lucifer shot a charming wink at Rosie, and bowed with a flourish. “I figured your town’s new statue should reflect it’s wonderful leader!”

Rosie giggled as Lucifer shot a look at Alastor, who gazed back wondering what he was looking for. Did he think he would be jealous? Rosie and he were friends, not in a relationship.

What ever it was, he didn’t seem to find it, which cast a shadow over his face. Charlie was hovering near the statue, and Alastor went over to make sure that none of the roses had thorns that could prick her. He didn’t think that Lucifer would include those in a statue that was intended to be safe for curious children, but one never knew.

Charlie was running her fingers across the petals of one of the roses, and turned to him - pulling the silver rose with her.

“Look!” she showed him the metal flower. “You can pick them!”

She handed him the rose and Alastor took it carefully, almost expecting it to tarnish and melt away like it’s living counterparts under his touch – but it stayed as it was, transformed angelic steel shining in his grasp. Despite himself, he held it to his nose, but smelled nothing. Which, of course it wouldn’t smell like a rose it was metal, but it was so lifelike he couldn’t help himself.

To arrive in Hell was to be subjected to a number of little punishments for your sins in life, as well as a new body that reflected your personality, your sins, and how you died. Alastor had the cannibal’s hunger, and the fact that plants occasionally withered at his touch, meaning every time he gardened was a risk. He was used to being hungry, but the plants…

Roses, especially, always withered, no matter what. Perhaps because they were his favorite.

Lucifer was suddenly there, peering up at him with the same false confidence and brittle cheer that hid anxiety Alastor had seen on his face when he was talking to Charlie at the hotel.

“Do you like it?”

Alastor chose to be honest for once. “It’s quite enjoyable! It makes one want to put it behind their ear, but alas…” he gestured up to his deer ears, and flicked them at Lucifer.

Lucifer grinned at him. “I can fix that! Here –” he reached out and grabbed the rose from Alastor before the sinner could blink, then reached up and placed it beside one of the large furry appendages atop Alastor head – and Alastor paused, a prickle of caution running down his back as he felt the stem move.

It wound around the base of his ear, and he couldn’t help but flick them again at the odd feeling, before tilting his head to the side, then the other, then bouncing a little.

The rose stayed on his head, and he wandered over to a mirror to admire the sight.

Eventually, Lucifer had healed all the remaining injured cannibals, and they separated. Lucifer was heading back to the palace for the first time since Alastor had brought him out of his workshop, muttering about confronting Sera and calling people to ‘get things started’ – presumably the things Alastor had recommended.

Alastor and Charlie, meanwhile, were headed to Mimzy’s to check on her and her dancers.

“Will it be okay?” Charlie asked quietly as they walked.

“Will what be okay?”

“Going without dad – if someone is injured there, too…”

Ah. Here at least, Alastor could reassure her. “There are much fewer people under Mimzy then there are under Rosie. She’s an Overlord, ruling over a whole town full of almost all the cannibals currently in Hell. Mimzy owns a bar, and has contracts with about ten or so dancers. They shelter in the basement during exterminations, and it’s very well hidden.”

And he’d had several radios and shadow puppets near the bar just in case, and made sure that no exorcist had thought to do more than a cursory inspection of what seemed to be a simple bar abandoned by sinners fleeing their oh-so-righteous wrath.

Alastor was right, in that Mimzy and her dancers were fine, but they got roped into helping clean up the club and so it was later then he would have liked by the time Alastor sent walked Charlie back to the manor, stopping on the way to provide help from her first aid kit to several wounded sinners.

Alastor had expected them to recognise her and spit on her help – oh, they’d take it, but they’d scoff as they did. But instead, they looked at her, looked at him, and submitted to bandages and painkillers and antiseptic almost…gratefully.

Some of them, Alastor found he recognised.

His consciousness had been in the radiowaves, in the shadows, and had been stretched so thin he couldn’t remember the details, only flashes – but some of those flashes were of distracting exorcist’s from wounded prey. Some of those prey he found himself facing now.

When they looked at him, it was with gratitude, almost…awe. It was an uncomfortable feeling, and he deflected, chattering and distracting with them while Charlie bound their wounds and offered them a place to stay in the manor while they recovered. Some of them took her up on it, and Alastor sent them to the manor through the shadows, with some shadow puppets to get them settled.

Eventually, he left Charlie in the manor as well, and went to go check on his radio tower.

While he had started once on Earth in his bedroom, and then again out of his microphone in Hell in this timeline, the moment he had gotten both his magic and some funding back, and decided he wished for radio to spread, he’d known he’d need to branch out a little.

So he’d built a studio. It was three floors right now, though he could add more later as his numbers grew – and they’d already grown.

Marshall had been joined by several others, and he was fully expecting to be mobbed when he approached, but he wasn’t expecting the crowd outside the studio.

There were dozens of them, sinners of all sides and shapes, and they were crowding around Mashall, who was looking very stressed.

Marshall was a sinner who appeared to be a giant green beetle standing upright. His antenna were wobbling anxiously, and he had his four arms raised in the air as he tried to calm the crowd.

Years of living as a mixed-race boy in the south under Jim Crow had Alastor slowing his stride and looking for escape routes. Years of living as the Radio Demon, an Overlord of Hell, had him straightening his back and fixing his smile and calculating if he could take them.

He could.

Spinning his microphone once and then tucking it behind his back Alastor headed over to see who was stupid enough to try something at his studio.

(he’d spent so long keeping the monster tucked inside. If he sent Marshall inside and made sure there were no survivors…)

The crowd seemed to be led by one particular sinner, a worn looking but beautiful rabbit sinner that he distantly recalled helping escape from an exorcist, who was backing Marshall up against the door through sheer presence despite the fact that he was several feet taller than her.

“What seems to be the problem here then?” Alastor asked, manifesting out of shadow next to Marshall and planting his microphone on the ground, hands crossed over the head.

He was expecting a lot of things from the rabbit sinner when he appeared. Fear was usual in his experience, but that was when people knew what the Radio Demon could do to them. In this time? Arrogance, perhaps? Scorn? Demands?

He was not expecting her eyes to brighten with – was that awe?

“It’s you,” she breathed, eyes getting teary. “That voice – it’s really you! You’re the one from the radio during the extermination – please, take my soul!”

Chapter 15: Interlude 1 - The King of Hell

The Exterminations will remain as they are, Lucifer.

Lucifer created a vase, a white one, satisfyingly heavy with red images on it of a little family of ungulates. He ran a hand over the images of the goats and deer and kid and wiped the image away. As nice as it was to have the eternal images of snakes and apples gone, letting him know that finally, after ten thousand years, his subconscious had moved on at least a little, he didn’t want that image, an image of his family (and the one he wanted to add to his family), an image from a gift, freely given, to be on this vase.

He lifted the now blank vase above his head and threw it at the wall where it shattered into a pile of shards and dust.

I share your horror at the age of this sinner, but it is not for us to judge our creator’s judgement.

He made another vase. Crash! Another. Smash! Some plates this time. Crash! Smash! Crash!

I’m sorry Lucifer, but I must refuse an exception for sinners under a certain age limit.

He made a little glass figuring of a six-winged angel with long white hair and dark skin and a sanctimonious expression on her face, reared back his arm and threw it at the wall. The glass shattered.

This idea for an orphanage…the sinners may add whatever protections they wish, but you are, as usual, forbidden from doing so. As is Lilith. I would have to count it as you breaking the deal and interfering with the Exterminations if you do so.

He waved a hand and manifested a horde of little yellow rubber ducks. He’d loved learning about the new invention so much, it had become his latest hyperfixation. He’d made them not just able to float, but able to make noise, music, move their little legs in a little marching band. He’d decorated them, made little Lilith and Charlie and Sins ducks. He’d been so deep in working on them it had almost drowned out the pain of Lilith and Charlie leaving and Lilith’s last words to him.

I’m sorry, my love, but I can’t do this anymore.

It was his fault, not hers. He broke everything he touched.

With a wave of his hand, he set the assembled horde of ducks on fire.

Look at him, throwing a temper tantrum and destroying his creations.

He was just like his father.

Eventually, rage spent, Lucifer collapsed at his workbench and buried his head in his hands.

He’d made this workbench at the very beginning, when he was still recovering from the Fall. It was a copy of the workbench he’d had up in heaven – the workbench where he’d made the Apple, spinning it up out of stardust and dreams and hope.

He’d spent so long regretting that decision.

But now…

The Apple and giving us Free Will was the best thing anyone has ever done for humanity.

How long had he spent here, at this workbench after Lilith had left – no, after Lilith had finally, after so many thousands of years, given up? She’d tried, she’d tried so hard for so long and he hadn’t helped her at all.

Even at the end, when he blithely signed off on the exterminations and she had stared at him, heart breaking in her eyes – and then her expression had firmed, and she’d turned to Sera and demanded exceptions for certain sinners – the ones who would be serving her.

She’d cut through everyone of Sera’s protests with wit as sharp and cold and deadly as a blade.

Lucifer had never been good at politics – he’d never needed to be, being the tied-second or third most powerful being in existence. He’d never needed to manipulate anyone, for all he was considered the Father of Lies and the Silver-Tongued Embodiment of Temptation on Earth. He’d never lied to Eve; he’d told her what the Apple was, and she’d taken it joyfully.

Lilith on the other hand. Lilith enjoyed that sort of thing, and she’d played heaven like a fiddle. Heaven was all about hierarchy. Order. Everything in its proper place.

She was a Queen, she’d said, tossing her hair and radiating authority. She deserved servants. Heaven had agreed but said she could take her pick among the hellborn – Lilith had laughed scornfully at them. Hellborn died too quickly except for the Nobles and Sins, who were above being servants. She would get them trained up and then they’d die a decade later! No, she needed sinner servants, and she needed to know those sinners wouldn’t be killed in exterminations just as she’d gotten them to her liking.

She’d purred the words, leaning over the table, giving Adam a good view of her cleavage as she did so, and he’d pushed Sera to give her everything she wanted.

Sera had sighed, and given her a household exception.

Thirty lives. Thirty people she could protect.

Alastor had been the thirtieth.

(And if Lucifer sometimes, late at night, thinks of a world where Alastor showed up a bit later, where there weren’t any positions open and they couldn’t protect him, and realises that he would have, eventually, made an opening in Lilith’s household – well, he tries not to think about that, and what it says about him.)

After the meeting, Lilith had turned to him and lost her temper. Hair lashing about, horns arching over her head, eyes glowing bright purple as clawed hands curled into fists. She’d been so beautiful.

And so furious.

And so betrayed.

How could you do that! How could you agree to that! To them coming down and killing our people –

They’re not killing our people, Lily, they’re killing Sinners!

Sinners like Alastor.

He remembered meeting Alastor that first time, how he swept the workbench clean and sat on it, prim as a princess, grinning that infuriating grin, ears twitching at him. How he’d argued with him, taunted him, snarked at him, all the while in a tone of voice that said he was just delighted to mess with him. Lucifer had been in a funk for so long, he’d hardly known what to do with all the emotions that swept him in that conversation. The horror at a sinner being so close to his little girl, the jealousy that another man was caring for her, the disdain that made him cower a little on the inside remembering it, the annoyance and irritation and anger that Alastor had ignited in him from the moment he popped up grinning that sharp toothed grin…

The desire.

Lucifer wasn’t used to wanting to fuck someone so badly. He’d been with Lilith for ten thousand years, and he loved her, he desired her, he was always up for doing anything she wanted and they’d happily experimented with pretty much everything, but with Lilith there was always the love there. Even when they were fucking, hard and rough, it was on a basis of love and trust.

Even when they brought someone (or multiple someone’s) into bed with them, as attracted as he’d been to everyone they shared their bed with, as much fun as he’d had with them, those others hadn’t held a candle to Lilith, simply because he didn’t love them.

But Alastor…

He’d sat on the workbench and taunted the King of Hell and Lucifer had wanted to wipe that expression of his face by shoving him down on the bench and shutting him up with his cock in his throat.

It wasn’t just attraction, it was desire. Even with Lilith – he’d been a sexless angel when he’d first seen her, first spoke with her, first fell in love with her. He had made himself male because she’d been designed to be attracted to men, and he’d wanted to be able to please her. Desire had come later, when he’d fallen. When Asmodeus and Lust had been born.

And he hadn’t felt even the smallest bit of attraction towards anyone since Lilith had left. No matter how many noble hellborn Freddy introduced him to, or how many succubi or incubi Ozzie brought over, his libido had left with his wife – until a red haired red eyed sinner had come in and forced him back to life.

So Lucifer had thought – what the hell. Why not have some hatesex? Why not have some fun with the sinner before he sent him packing?

So he’d flirted, and Alastor had not just shut him down, he hadn’t even noticed.

Half-naked in the form of an incubus and Alastor had looked at him with complete disinterest.

And then he’d magicked himself into a dress and danced with that other sinner, the overlord who hadn’t been able to keep his eyes to himself, and Lucifer had been furious and jealous and turned on despite himself. Despite Charlie being right there – he’d been so distracted he hadn’t even noticed Charlie getting upset at the thought of what’s his face somehow stealing Alastor!

(As if he could. As if Lucifer would Let Him-)

And then – and then he’d seen Lilith dancing with Alastor, and he’d expected the jealousy. But not that he’d be jealous of both of them.

(She’d looked so good, in that tuxedo. He’d looked so good in that dress. There had been no space in there for Lucifer, no matter how much he had wanted.)

And then – then he’d spent time in the same house as Alastor. Then he’d only been able to reconcile with his daughter thanks to Alastor.

Then he’d been given a hand made gift with an image that had affected even his subconscious. And so had Samael, what was left of his halo. What was left of the angel that had once been so beloved.

He’d interacted with Alastor, and eventually he’d come to realise – it wasn’t just desire anymore. He didn’t just want a fun bout of hatesex anymore. He recognised the warm feeling in his face and the butterflies in his stomach every time he saw or heard or thought about Alastor.

He’d felt the same things for Lilith, once, after all. This was a crush, the first blooms of love, like when the sight of the first woman smiling in the sunlight of Eden had taken his breath away. Later, the feelings had warmed and deepened and grown with them, year after year of love forming link after link in a chain he’d thought as unbreakable as diamond – until he’d broken it.

And now…

He still loved Lilith. He would always love Lilith. But these new feelings for Alastor –

He’d gone to Lilith, because he could recognise the look on her face when she looked at Alastor, and he didn’t want to step in the way of her happiness, of her choosing someone else – and she’d looked at him and laughed and teased him.

Finally noticed, did you?

Of course she’d known what he was feeling before he had!

He’d groaned and collapsed on the couch next to her and for a moment, as they’d laughed together, it had been as if they’d never separated, as if he’d hadn’t finally chased off the best thing in his life.

But while he was still wearing his wedding ring, she wasn’t. And when they’d talked –

There was a knock at the workshop door.

Lucifer shook himself away from thoughts of that conversation with Lilith, the reason she wasn’t pursuing Alastor, the look on her face when she’d explained what it meant that Alastor had been afraid when she revealed she desired him. The thought that whoever had made Alastor, arrogant and indomitable and always smiling, afraid might be still living on earth when Alastor was down here in hell, or worse, that they might be here in hell and Lucifer didn’t know who they were and so couldn’t give their head to Alastor as a gift, was unbearable, and so Lucifer tucked it away. Anyone who would make Alastor afraid would come to hell eventually, and then they’d either die in an extermination – or Alastor would trust him enough to give him a name, and Lucifer would take care of it himself.

“Come in,” he called out, and the door opened and let in one of Ozzie’s succubi. This was the one he’d sent to earth to find out info on Alastor, and had brought back the picture. She had a folder in her arms.

“You have more information for me?” Lucifer asked. By this point, he knew Alastor well enough to know there wasn’t some dark secret hiding in his human life – Alastor wasn’t some rapist or paedophile preying on Charlie. But he still didn’t know as much about him as he’d liked, so he’d kept the investigation going, and told the succubus, who’s name he couldn’t remember, to come to him when she found out as much as she thought she could.

“Yes, sire.”

“Right, report then,” he span around in his chair and faced her, legs spread and arms crossed and listening intently. The succubus cleared her throat and started.

“Alastor Deveraux, age 33 on death, he was shot in the head while running from someone – the police believe him to have been a victim of the serial killer of New Orleans, the ‘Butcher of the Bayou’. They think he stumbled on the man burying a body and was ‘silenced’ for it.” The Succubus handed him the folder and he opened it up – his breath caught.

There was a picture on the first page, grainy, black and white – a picture taken by police of Alastor’s body.

Alastor’s demon form wasn’t that different in appearance to his human form – different hair, the ears of course, the teeth and colouring – but the bone structure was the same. Seeing that familiar face slack with death, eyes wide with blood trickling between them…

Lucifer quickly skimmed the report. Alastor had run from something – they’d traced the footsteps back and found a half-buried body, one that showed the signs of being killed by New Orleans newest serial killer after the Axeman had died. Alastor kept a small property on the bayou near the hunting grounds he’d been found, and was known to enjoy hunting – he’d often bring venison to the poorer families around him, especially with the recession meaning people had a hard time finding enough food. The police figured he’d been heading to his lodge, stumbled on the killer burying the body, and ran.

The bullet was right between the eyes, and the body had crumpled oddly – he’d turned, to see who was chasing him, and died.

Did Alastor remember his killer? Maybe, one day, he would tell Lucifer what he’d looked like, and lucifer could give him his head too.

“He was greatly mourned in his community, and buried next to his mother,” the succubus continued.  “When he reformed in hell it was as a prey-type sinner –”

“Yeah, what’s up with that?” Lucifer interrupted.

Prey type sinners. It had been centuries since he’d walked among sinners, but he still remembered – there hadn’t used to be sinners with the features of prey animals in hell. Sinners had such varying forms there was no ‘normal’ sinner, but there were patterns. Sinners took forms that reflected their sins, their personalities, how they’d lived their lives – and how they’d died. Some took forms that mimicked aspects of hellborns, particularly imps and succubi and hellhounds, some had forms that matched aspects of their culture – there had been several thousand years where you couldn’t go out in public without seeing sinners of the Black Land, Kh’met, wrapped in funerary wrapping – or aspects of their jobs or obsessions, like that once sinner who had appeared like a walking bench. And many of them had animal traits - but when did, they were either insects, or predators. Of course they were. Sinner’s became sinners by hurting others, by taking advantage of them, by oppressing them – of course they were predators, hurting those weaker than them. How could they be prey?

He'd been staying in his palace for so long, even before Lilith left – when was the last time he’d gone out in Pride? The last time he’d seen sinners?

Alastor had been the first prey-type sinner he’d ever met, and he’d at first just assumed he wasn’t. That the ears were a fox’s, or part of his hair – but no, he’d learned through living in the manor, he was a deer. A deer.

Was it that something had happened? Something had changed?

That little cannibal, Yulia – a child. A child in Hell. There hadn’t been used to be children in Hell.

Right? Surely there hadn’t. He would have known. Wouldn’t he?

But then why –?

Perhaps it is all a matter of broken balance.

“No one really knows,” said the succubus. “It started happening around a century or two ago, around the time of the industrial revolution. At first, we figured it was a consequence of population growth – more people equals more sinners and eventually you end up with some that are…weird – but it kept happening. I can get you some research papers, if you like? I know a few Baphomet’s who have been interested in tracking the spread.”

“Do that,” Lucifer ordered, already making plans to institute that census Alastor had mentioned. “But what do you think?”

The succubus hesitated, an odd look on her face, before she seemed to come to some sort of decision, straightening up and firming her voice. “Some people think that prey-type sinners are ‘unfortunates’ – those whose sins are minor. Theft, adultery, prostitution, embezzlement and so on. But there’s another theory, and I support that one. That prey type sinners are those whose sins were justified.”

The succubus, whose name he really needed to find out, continued. “I have a friend – a sinner. That woman named her ‘Bunny’ – thank your wife for taking care of her by the way – but her real name is Siobhan.”

“That woman? What?” What had Lilith done? Lucifer was missing something. The succubus looked at him with surprise.

“You didn’t know? She killed Aphrodite.”

“Who?”

The succubus let out a vicious bark of laughter. “She’d hate you not knowing who she was! The Overlord who used to own Siobhan – she was a monster. She got Siobhan’s soul by kidnapping her and torturing her until she gave it up, and she did it to others as well. She disappeared a little while ago, and considering how obsessed she was with beating your wife, and how she started talking about going after her new nanny, we all know who did it. Without her taking out that bitch, Siobhan might have…during this last extermination, she might have…” She couldn’t even say it.

Lucifer, meanwhile, was taking in the knowledge that someone could have kidnapped and tortured and owned Alastor and he wouldn’t have even known.

Thank fuck Lily had it under control.

“Anyway. Siobhan,’ the succubus continued. “She was married to a husband who was just – awful. He hit her, yelled at her, raped her, and she couldn’t leave because divorce is illegal in her country. And then one day, she walked in on him raping their ten-year-old daughter.”

Lucifer winced.

“She killed him. She was executed for it and ended up here – what else was she supposed to do? Just let him keep raping her child? Go to the police? They wouldn’t have cared, a man can do whatever he wants to his ‘property’ in most of the world, they’d only care if he killed them and maybe not even then. I think she was justified, and that it’s wrong that she’s here. And I think I know what Alastor’s sin was, too.”

She came forward and flipped through a few pages in the folder, eventually setting on a police report from 1916 – on the death of Amelie Deveraux, and the disappearance of the man widely known to have fathered her child, who would have been her husband if not for their skin colours making that illegal.

“I tried to find what his sins were, but apart from some blatant flouting of prohibition, some mild crossdressing and being known to be quite a party animal during the roaring twenties, there’s nothing – in fact, he was quite generous. With the Depression on, his job in radio was one of the few where no one needed to worry about being laid off, and so he was quite wealthy by those standards, and he often helped those around him – at least once he saved a neighbouring African-American family from losing their house by paying their rent for them. He was known to particularly help woman, children and African-American’s, possibly because of his mother. He fought in the great war, and that was…a whole thing, but he apparently was mainly a radio operator. But if you look at the death of his mother, and read between the lines – his father killed her. And then mysteriously disappeared. And Alastor spent his life supporting women and children, especially those with abusive husbands and fathers. I think he killed his father – and if he did, I don’t think he should be here either.”

Could Lucifer even argue with her? He was already planning to find out if this ‘Richard Hawthorn’ was still around in hell, and if he was utterly destroy him, so…

And it wasn’t just him. Heaven had never frowned on righteous vengeance in its life. It could get messy when vengeance went off the rails, and once you targeted innocents it was no longer righteous, but killing the man who killed your mother – that wasn’t a sin.

Or at least, it hadn’t been in the past few thousand years.

What the fuck was going on?

“And why is he a deer?” Lucifer asked. “Any ideas about that?”

The succubus just blinked at him, confused. “Uh…because he has a deer personality? He was shot to death in a deer hunting ground? I don’t know what the question is here, Sire, sorry.”

Lucifer smiled wryly at her. “I’m asking cause he’s specifically a deer. Not just a prey type animal. They’re considered elegant, noble, the kings of the forest – and more than that, they’re a holy animal. One sacred to my little brother. The only one more associated with him is lambs. If there’s a sinner in hell with deer features, it means something is up – but that just means I need to do some more digging. Thanks for your help, tell Ozzie I said he should promote you.”

The succubus took in that gentle dismissal as what it was, bowed her head and left, leaving Lucifer to his thoughts.

The industrial revolution. Late 18^th century to early 19^th.

When the worldwide population hit a billion for the first time.

Right around the time Charlie had been born.

Right around the time the Exterminations had started.

And now there was a sinner with the features of a sacred animal acting as his daughters Nanny.

Lucifer didn’t have all the pieces, and he didn’t know how to make them fit – but that was alright. Lilith was the cunning, political one. He had other strengths.

He clicked his fingers and poofed his notebook back into existence in a spark of gold. Time to get started on all those ideas Alastor had given him.

It was time Hell remembered who it’s King was.

Chapter 16

Generally, those willing to sell their souls were desperate – Alastor should know. He’d been on both sides of the situation after all. As such, he’d encountered people who had been desperate to sell their souls to him – but he’d never had them ask him to take their soul. No, normally when someone was desperate and came to beg him, the words they say reflected why they were selling their soul. ‘Please, save my husband.’ ‘Please, save my life.’ ‘Please, give me money.’

There had only been one major exception to that rule, and Niffty was a major exception to most rules. He really did wish she’d hurry up and die already, but she hadn’t even been born yet.

If the Rabbit woman truly did just wish for him to own her soul for the same reasons as Niffty – a mixture of liking him and wanting the safety and security of being owned, then he was very eager to give her what she wanted.

Alastor, much like Carmilla with her daughters, had been known for his two followers. Oh, he owned many souls, but there were only two that truly accompanied him, that he brought to places where he needed trusted workers like the hotel. Husker, a former Overlord, and Niffty. Of the two, one would think that it was Husk, with all the souls and money and power he still had (after all, the deal had been his soul to keep his power) that had given Alastor’s own power the biggest boost, but that wasn’t the case. It had been Niffty, and Alastor had been surprised when he had realised even an Overlord giving him his soul had not been as powerful as hers.

Why?

Because she had given it willingly. Not out of desperation, not out of threats, not out of deception or manipulation, but out of trust and comradery and the crazy fact that she actually liked him as a person.

(Yes, Alastor was surprised too.)

A soul was a person. It was everything you were, all your hopes and dreams and fears, your triumphs and failures, your victories and mistakes. It was how you’d lived and how you’d died. It was you – and giving it to someone else gave them power, yes, but if it was done under duress…

It was a lot like sex, in a way. Giving your soul to another needed at least nominal consent, unlike rape, but there were different variations of consent. A prostitute sleeping with a john because they enjoyed their job and liked sex and was working for themselves was different to a prostitute sleeping with a john because they were desperate for money was different to sleeping with a john because if they didn’t their pimp would hurt them. And all of those were different to sleeping with someone because they had a gun to your head and would kill you if you refused. And all of that was different to sleeping with someone because you loved them.

Niffty giving him her soul willingly, because she wanted to, had given him the greatest power boost from a single soul he’d ever had. If this rabbit woman was sincere in her desire, then owning her soul would give him the same boost.

And it wasn’t just the rabbit who was standing outside his studio. There were dozens of them. If they all wanted to give him their soul freely, because they wanted to…

The power boost…

Alastor smiled brightly at the rabbit sinner and her compatriots. “Well now! You all seem to know me, but I’m afraid I don’t know you – pleasure to be meeting you all, quite a pleasure! How about we all go inside and have some coffee – or tea if you prefer – and talk about this, and you can stop mobbing poor Marshall here, hmm?”

~~

Alastor had been able to magic up enough chairs and tables for them all, but he had never been able to make created drinks and food taste the same as handmade, so he bustled around making enough tea and coffee for everyone before allowing them to make their pitch. They were guests after all, and his Maman had taught him right.

Eventually, though, he sat down on a chair with them, crossing his legs and steepling his fingers as he waited to hear what they had to say.

The scarred woman with rabbit features, who introduced herself as Bunny, and reminded him uncomfortably of Angel Dust (not just in how she flirted almost desperately with him, Marshall, and everyone around her, but in the shattered look in her eyes, as if she was holding on by her fingernails. He’d bet money she’d been one of Aphrodite’s, before her…unfortunate demise.) had taken over the role of spokesperson for the sorry lot that were crowded into his studio, and so it was her who leaned in and spoke to him.

“I think I was very clear at the door,” she purred, which Alastor ignored with the ease of long exposure to Angel Dust.

“You were,” he admitted, “but that’s what I don’t get. Why would you, or anyone, want to give me your soul? Marhsall did, as part of working for me, but I sincerely doubt you all desperately want to be in radio.”

“You saved me,” whispered one of the sinners from farther back, cringing as that brought the rooms attention to him. He quailed a moment, drawing soft grey butterfly wings around him like a cape he could hide in, then straightened. “Yesterday…yesterday I died, and then I was on a street, and I had no idea what was going on – but I heard a voice saying I was in – in hell and that I needed to hide. I half thought it was a dream, but I did what the voice - what you said. Found a dumpster and hid in it. I heard it. When the…the Extermination…started. The cries. The screams…” he trailed off, eyes haunted.

“You saved me, too,” said Bunny, drawing Alastor – and the room’s – attention back to her and off the newcomer.

“And you are all very welcome, but that doesn’t answer my question,” Alastor inspected his sharp red claws. “You could have come and said thank you, or promised a favour in exchange if you were the honourable type, or simply ignored it. That doesn’t mean you come and ask me to own your soul. This is Hell. Gratitude doesn’t get you very far.”

“But safety does,” said Bunny. “If you own my soul, that means no one else can have it, and you’ll protect me because I’m linked to your power.”

She wasn’t wrong. As he’d explained to Charlie, owned souls were generally more protected than free ones. But only from outsiders. That didn’t answer the question of –

“How can you possibly trust me not to mistreat you?” Alastor asked.

“You can’t possibly be worse than the last one who owned my soul,” said Bunny wryly. Which, if he was right about her being one of Aphrodite’s…yes. Point. But it wasn’t only former Aphrodite sinners that were here.

Another sinner, a mustelid, raised a hand and pointed at Marshall. “That’s how.”

The beetle froze from where he was sipping his own tea. “Me?”

The weasel nodded. “Yeah – he owns your soul, but you’re happy, you get paid, he doesn’t hurt you…”

“How do you know?” Alastor asked, sipping his coffee with an arched eyebrow. Abuse was not always obvious, after all.

“I can tell,” said Bunny with an old look in her eyes. “And regardless, I’ve been here for a few years, and not once has anyone done anything to help others doing the extermination – but you did. You saved my life. You saved all our lives. You’re one of the Queen’s, you’re safe from Exterminations, you could have just kept to yourself and done nothing – but you didn’t.”

Alastor’s smile stayed on, but his fingers tightened a bit on coffee cup. He didn’t like the way he was being described. Alastor, Altruist, acting to save other? Ha! He had spent decades in a hell where he did nothing about Exterminations except keep those who were his safe and close, and occasionally go out and watch the slaughter. It had itched at him, the arrogance and self-righteousness of those exorcists, and the memory of Adam’s laughter and the feel of his axe cutting into his chest, but he hadn’t been about to do anything about it until he’d seen how distressed Charlie was, and even then it had been merely to distract and cheer her up.

Purely because her sadness was of no use to him in getting some sort of deal with her parents right there, and not because it upset him at all, of course.

“I think you are exaggerating my levels of altruism, my dear, but if you are set on this course, here.” He waved a hand and copies of the contract he’d given Marshall appeared before them all.

There were a few moments of silence as they read, before Bunny looked up at him. She looked rather uncomfortably awed and wondering. “It says you can’t hurt me, rape me, starve me, pimp me out –”

Of course it did. This was the contract he’d used for Marhsall and Niffty, the one based off Rosie’s contracts. He wasn’t Valentino or Aphrodite. Even with Husker, he might lose his temper and threaten the drunkard but he wouldn’t, say, rape or beat him. He wasn’t his father. If there was someone he wanted to hurt he wouldn’t go about getting their soul, he’d kill and eat them.

The weasel held up his contract. “We get paid, with pay raises and promotions and if we feel we’re not being paid enough we can come to you and make an argument and if you feel we’re right we get a pay raise? And overtime pay?”

“This is an employment contract,” Alastor said. “I expect you to work in radio at least somewhat, after all. If you don’t know how I’ll teach you, if you find it impossible or that you prefer work elsewhere you can move on.”

He didn’t see what the big deal was. He’d made an employment contract that he would have liked to have had when he was working, with protections that he’d come to learn had become more common in the decades after his death. The type of fat cat puffing cigars that expected his workers to work long hours for little pay was the type of man he’d killed when he was alive he certainly wasn’t going to copy them!

“If we choose to move on, we get our souls back,” said the weasel in a shocked voice.

If they wanted to move on and he stopped them, the power boost from souls willingly given would be lost, and its not as if he needed the power from forced souls. He’d been overlord level since he first manifested in hell, even this many new souls wouldn’t give him much more power. More power was always welcome of course, but he’d preferred the strings of favours and debts rather than souls for a reason. They were more useful.

Bunny signed her name – her real name, the alias’s common in hell didn’t work for a soul contract – and the contract rolled up and vanished in a flash of green light.

Alastor felt the tether binding their souls, and the power boost that showed she’d been sincere in wanting to give him her soul.

Her real name was Siobhan he noted.

The other sinners followed suit, and they all gave him that power boost – except the weasel. That one was either unsure of him and therefore felt he was doing this under duress, or was trying something. Alastor would keep an eye on him.

Alastor clapped and stood, grinning at his new souls. “Now then, let’s begin – who here knows anything about radio?”

Chapter 17

It had been six months, and the weasel hadn’t done anything yet.

He called himself Sly, though he’d signed his name as Cooper. So far, he’d been a model employee – always on time, a hard worker, very skilled. Needless to say, it made Alastor even more suspicious. Someone trying that hard to be above suspicion? This was hell.

Which was why, when Charlie had begged to come to his studio and meet his people, he’d agreed – but he’d inveigled Lucifer and Lilith into coming with him. Lucifer had agreed instantly, happy to spend time with Charlie and Lilith no doubt, while Lilith had raised an eyebrow at him in question. He fell back beside her as they walked the streets of Pentagram City and leaned in, voice low but not a whisper, as whispering tended to draw more attention then simply two people talking low enough you couldn’t hear them over the sounds of screams and cries and explosions that was the background noise of Hell.

“Keep an eye on Charlie near one of my souls – name is Sly, looks like a weasel. Make sure he’s never alone with her,” Alastor said lowly, and Lilith’s purple eyes narrowed.

“Is he a threat to her?”

Alastor thought a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think whatever he’s doing, it’s focused on me – but just in case he’s using my connection to you to try something…it could just be he wants to get in good with the royal family, but just in case…”

He…didn’t like the idea of waving Charlie before someone untrustworthy to see if they would take the bait. Probably just his disdain for rapists and paedophiles coming out. He was sure he would have felt equally as discomforted by the idea of using anyone Charlie’s age as bait for someone when he didn’t know what their intentions, or particular sins, were.

Surely.

Lilith nodded and they shared a look of two schemers as Lucifer fluttered around Charlie, who was looking around the street with wide eyes.

Which was odd. Why was Charlie so surprised by the street? They’d walked the streets together plenty of times.

“Charlie? Is everything alright?” Alastor asked, speeding up to come walk with the two.

Charlie looked up at him with confused eyes. Sometime in the past few months, she had swapped out her dour look and black dress for a different outfit, and her hair was now neatly braided in the same style Alastor recognised. She wore a white button up top with a sleeveless black dress over it with shiny silver buttons, and around her throat was a red bowtie. “Yes – I mean…I just…is it me, or is the street…cleaner than usual?”

Alastor looked around, and hummed in consideration. She wasn’t wrong. There were still the usual accoutrements of Hell – dead bodies hanging from streetlights, or just laying out in the street, and there were piles of trash, some of which was on fire…but there was something missing.

Alastor realised what it was as they passed an alleyway that usually had at least two people lying around it in drug addicted stupors, but was currently empty.

He turned and looked at Lucifer, feeling oddly warm. “Did you institute the free drugs scheme I suggested?”

Lucifer, who had been looking around with them, while wearing a look on his face that suggested he couldn’t see how this was at all ‘cleaner’ than usual, and was in fact struggling not to say something awful about Hell and sinners, looked over at him with surprise.

“I – yeah, how can you tell? I made a hospital in the uptown district and got some Baphomet’s to staff it, they actually asked me to expand it a few times – kept running out of beds.”

Lilith looked at Lucifer with wide eyes, before transferring her shocked gaze to Alastor and then looking around at the street, taking in the differences. Alastor smiled smugly at her, and a confused Lucifer and Charlie.

“It’s working,” he said, waving his microphone around at the streets. “The free drugs are luring those who would normally sell anything for them and putting them in a place where they are safe during their high – so they’re all in the hospital right now instead of on the streets.”

Alastor preened as he waited for his rightful acclamation, but Charlie just looked puzzled.

“But…isn’t it better to try and make them be clean?” she asked.

“Why? What’s the point?” Alastor shrugged, and decided to educate the princess on the realities of the world a little bit. “Do you know why people get addicted to drugs Charlie? There are two main reasons. One is that they are started on medical grade drugs after being injured, and get addicted to it. Those ones could, perhaps, benefit from a rehab clinic to help them beat that addiction – but there are very few addicts of that type in Hell. Here, we mostly have the ones addicted for the other reason – that their lives are miserable, and drugs make them feel better. The best way to get people to become clean, Charlie, is to make it so they live in a place and state where they don’t need drugs to be happy – but this is Hell.”

“It’s called Harm Reduction, Charlie,” said Lilith, putting an arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “It would take far more than any of us are capable of to make Hell a place where there is no need for drugs because their normal lives are better than the high, but we can make it so they hurt themselves a little less, and isn’t that a worthy goal?”

Charlie nodded, eyes shining.

He wondered if this would affect how Charlie ran the hotel in future? If nothing else, if it prevented any more childishly written skits where ‘say no to drugs’ was the main take away, Alastor would consider it a job well done. There was only so much joy he could take in the other residents suffering when he was suffering from having to watch them as well, after all.

Lucifer, meanwhile, was still gobsmacked, looking at him and Lilith with wide eyes. “It improved things? Something I did…improved things?”

Lilith smiled at him, and Alastor grinned and twirled his microphone. “Of course! You were taking my advice after all! That’s why you should always listen to everything I say!”

Lucifer laughed, and it sounded like joy itself, and for a moment even the sinners around them stopped murdering each other as Hell was filled, just for a moment, with the sound of the joy of the angel who had once been the Almighty’s Most Beloved.

Lucifer grabbed Charlie’s hand and started dancing with her down the street. Alastor looked up at Lilith, and took in the look in her eyes as she looked at her ex-husband and daughter. She looked down at him and met his eyes and smiled slightly at him.

“This is the first time he’s been so happy since Charlie was born,” she whispered to him, eyes wet. “It’s been so long – I’d almost forgotten what it was like when he was happy.”

Alastor knew, seeing the look on her face as she looked at Lucifer, that despite everything, the arguments and the coldness and the Exterminations, Lilith still loved Lucifer. Lucifer, he knew, also still loved Lilith.

Well then, he thought to himself as he offered Lilith his arm and they followed the other two Morningstar’s down the street, why should they be separated? The Exterminations would end when Adam was stupid enough to break the agreement and go after the Princess of Hell. Lilith, certainly, would jump on that as a way to force Heaven to the bargaining table. With that, and with Lucifer having accepted he was wrong for signing off on them in the first place, there was really nothing stopping them from getting back together – except for their stubbornness and pride and probably some feeling like they didn’t deserve each other or some rot like that.

Alastor had no patience for soppy romance stories full of miscommunication and will-they/won’t-they and Oh-I-Don’t-Deserve-Them nonsense. He certainly wasn’t going to watch that play out in his real life.

So, Alastor thought, grinning. Time to manipulate the royal couple of hell into going back to being the royal couple of hell. Easy.

Perhaps he could get Charlie in on it. Some easy lessons on manipulation, and how it could be used for a good cause might be just the thing with her.

Soon, they came up the street to where his radio studio was. When he’d built it, he’d made it to his tastes, so it was in an art deco style, made of brick and stained glass and a large double door made of dark red wood. Above the door, in gold engraving, were the words Pentagram City Radio. There were windowsills filled with hellish plants around each of the many windows, and one, a lovely multi-eyed Venus flytrap looking plant, snapped a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth around a small flying creature.

Lucifer and Charlie had waited for them, if impatiently, and Alastor found it amusing how Charlie was, at this point, already a few inches taller than her father.

He bowed to them, and swept open the doors with a showy gesture.

The studio was bustling, and Alastor had to admit to some pride as he saw how full and busy it was, how his employees smiled as they worked. It was very different from most of the studios he’d worked at when he was alive, and not just because of the various forms of the sinners that worked there.

Some of those who had joined him hadn’t had any talent or desire for radio, and those were the ones like Mary-Lou, who was working the reception desk, or Grimm, a hellhound-esque demon that Alastor couldn’t help but get a little tense around but who was currently mopping the floors.

Siobhan, who still went by Bunny, was reigning over the floor, wearing a smart skirt, blouse, and jacket combo in a deep wine red. Her ears were upright, she walked and spoke with confidence, and she’d seemed to come into herself the more she covered up. Alastor felt the same pride watching her work as he had watching Charlie bring Cannibal Town over to her side.

Siobhan’s friend, a Succubus from Lust named Marcie who had started hanging around when Siobhan started working and who Alastor had drawn into doing some voice work in response, looked over at them, and Alastor noticed Lucifer jolted a little when she did. That was odd. Visitors often reacted a bit odd to Marcie, but Alastor thought Lucifer, of all people, would be used to Succubi. And his wife was right there.

Still, there was a good chance this was some awkward meeting of a one-night-stand in the daylight at the grocery store thing and Alastor had had enough of that with Mimzy, thank you, so he ignored it.

Siobhan, meanwhile, was heading towards them, and her face was awed as she looked at – Lilith?

Lilith looked down at Siobhan with regal curiosity.

“I wanted to thank you, Your Majesty,” said Siobhan, bobbing a slight, awkward curtsey as she held a folder full of papers to her chest. Alastor folded his hands on top of the head of his microphone and watched in amusement. Siobhan, once she’d settled in and stopped holding herself very still whenever anyone raised their voice or moved to close near her in a trained movement to prevent flinching, had blossomed into a bossy, organized force of nature who often had to ride herd on the less adept employees. Seeing her so…there was no other way to say it but shy, and a bit awestruck, was a change, and Alastor couldn’t help how fun he found the whole situation.

“Thank me?” asked Lilith.

“You saved me,” said Siobhan. “You and Alastor both saved my life, though in different ways. If you hadn’t killed Aphrodite –”

Wait, what?

“I probably wouldn’t have been able to muster the will to live to run from the exorcists – and if Alastor hadn’t helped, I wouldn’t have made it. So, I wanted to say thank you.”

Alastor wasn’t often surprised, but he was now – and his lips were twitching as he fought the urge to burst out laughing. It was only years of practice from working as a broadcaster who had on occasion commented on his own murders that kept him from it as he watched as Lilith shot him a quick, equally amused look, and then graciously accepted Siobhan’s thanks.

“I owe you a thank you as well, after all,” she said. “I do believe you are responsible for helping keep our dear nanny from getting in over his head, which he has a tendency to do.”

“Excuse me?!”

Such slander!

Both Lilith and Siobhan ignored his interjection and nodded at each other. Alastor pouted through his grin.

He didn’t know what they were talking about. He’d never gotten in over his head in his life! Bar that time with the hunter that had killed him.

And that time with the First Man.

But regardless.

Lucifer was nodding along, and even Charlie – they clearly had no idea what they were talking about!

Alastor straightened up and huffed. “Would you all like the tour or not! This is my radio station, I can throw you out you know!”

“Of course,” Lilith soothed, smiling at him in amusement as he narrowed his eyes back at her. Despite himself, his lips were still twitching.

Alastor was a bit soothed by their reactions to the tour. They oohed and ahhed appropriately, and not just politely – they were genuinely interested in the radio and how it worked.

He took them around to all the most used rooms, and let them see how it all worked. He showed them the studio, where various people were recording a new radio play he’d started once he’d had enough people to do all the voice acting, then over to the control room where the audio was mixed and managed, then the transmitter room, with the large metal transmitter that sent out the finished broadcast through the antenna above the roof.

Charlie was busy trying on a set of earphones over her head when one of his puppets popped up. Alastor recognised it and felt a frisson of excitement in his stomach.

He turned to the Morningstar’s. “I’m terribly sorry to interrupt, but if you would all follow me to the lobby – we have a guest.”

Alastor led the way, microphone tapping by his side as they followed the little puppet with its pointy horns and stitched smile.

He ignored how Lucifer and Charlie were cooing over how ‘cute’ the creature was.

The puppet led them to the lobby, and rushed across the floor to be scooped up by the one Alastor had made it for.

A little bit of extra protection for Cannibal Town’s youngest resident.

Yulia held the puppet as if it were a favoured doll, cuddled to her chest as she looked around the studio lobby in awe, her mother next to her holding her hand.

“Yulia!” Charlie cheered and waved happily. Yulia brightened up at seeing her older friend – and then blushed bright red as she laid her eyes on Lucifer, and ducked behind her mother’s leg. Katerina let out a light laugh.

“Oh, now you’re shy? Weren’t you chattering the whole way here about getting to thank the wonderful Angel Man who saved you?” she teased her daughter, putting a light hand on her head, and looked over at Alastor.

“It’s finished?” he asked, anticipation rising in him like when he was on the hunt and saw the look on his targets face as they realised they were going to die.

“It’s finished,” Katerina nodded, smiling proudly. “The new Orphanage is open for business.”

“Orphanage?” asked Lucifer, who was smiling at Yulia’s shyness.

Alastor nodded. “Our discussion made me think, so I called in some people I know, and some favors, and got to work. Katerina’s been in charge of most of it. Do you want to come see?”

Chapter 18

Notes:

Okay, so I have discovered I am a terrible song writer, just assume when you get there that there's a whole bit that's on the level of one of Hazbin Hotel's Songs and not my shoddy work lol.
Enjoy!

The Orphanage was a gothic mansion on the edge of where the Cannibal District met the inner city. Alastor had chosen it for a few reasons. The first was that it was close enough to Cannibal Town that the children of both could meet up and play, and the Cannibal children who weren’t orphaned could move to it the day of Extermination to shelter under the protections without traipsing across half of Pentagram City. It was also far from the district where Dementus, Silena, and her husband Scarecrow made their home, that area which had once been called the Entertainment District when it belonged to the Vees.

If he could have, he would have preferred it to be closer to uptown, the ‘Morningstar District’, where the Manor, his studio and the future Hazbin Hotel all stood, but unfortunately uptown was separated from Rosie’s territory by the land that had previously held two overlords. The overlords - Bluebeard, who had been a madman who enjoyed killing people, especially children, and had once been known as Gilles de Rais and kept a coterie of murderers and monsters around him, and Morette, who had fancied himself a scientist and somehow been worse than Bluebeard - were both dead now, and their deaths had been a lot of fun to plan and execute, but that had left an unfortunate power vacuum among those souls, and the district that would one day be called the Doomsday District was suffering for it. The chaos was even spilling into the inner city, and while Zestial, who kept a house there, would undoubtedly come down on anyone who caused to much chaos, Alastor just didn’t feel comfortable knowing a child as young as Yulia would be making that trip so often.

Another reason he had chose that particular mansion was that it was large, it was surrounded by a wild, overgrown garden, and it was available for sale for money, rather than anything else. This meant they could both make renovations to ensure there was enough room for all the children, as well as put in their own protections – protections for which Alastor had hired two people.

The first was Carmilla Carmine, who, though she had yet to stretch out into Angelic Steel, was still the best in defence and weapons manufacturing, and while her face hadn’t moved in the slightest while they were bargaining, when he’d revealed what exactly he wanted the defence systems for – well, he knew Carmilla’s prices. She was giving him the best work she did, for not nearly as much as she’d usually charge. And Zestial had shown up while they were putting everything together and helped add some protections as well. Clara and Odette had befriended several of the children as well, and could often be seen playing with them while Alastor, their mother and the other adults talked and planned.

The second –

“Your Majessstiesss!”

As much as Alastor hated to admit it, Sir Pentious was older then him, and had lived in hell through even more exterminations, and without the power level of an overlord. He had done so because he was, unfortunately, an excellent inventor. If Alastor wanted the Orphanage as protected as possible, it was only fair to bring him in.

He was just also a self-sacrificial idiot who had gone to take on Adam after Adam had taken down Alastor and been promptly wiped from existence for it.

Said self-sacrificial idiot was currently saluting – literally saluting, a discombobulated Lucifer and amused and delighted Lilith.

“Forgive him,” Alastor said, stepping up beside the Morningstars. “He’s English. They’re weird about Royalty.”

It wasn’t just Sir Pentious that was waiting for them outside the newly completed Orphanage. Katerina and Yulia had come with them, and both Pentious and Carmilla were there, with Zesital by Carmilla’s side, as were various other workers and several of Alastor’s worker puppets. There were also several Cannibals, both children, adults looking after the children, and a couple of additional workers who had volunteered.

Alastor ignored Pentious’s spluttering and blushing as he focused on the Orphanage. He hadn’t just brought Lucifer Lilith and Charlie here to see how far the work had come, or to snip the ceremonial ribbon.

“We’ve been working on a defence system,” Alastor said, turning to the royal couple and getting their attention instantly. “I want you to test it.”

He nodded to Carmilla and Pentious, who came forward to explain their own contributions to the system. Carmilla had taken care of structural defenses, steel lining the walls and grates that would be activated to slide down over the doors and windows when the Extermination happened. Pentious had wanted to add lasers – which he somehow had, despite them not having been invented in the human world yet – but had been talked down as the lasers wouldn’t do anything to the Exorcists. Instead there were traps that were meant to frighten confuse and mock and make things difficult – guns that shot glitter and tar and clouds of feathers into the air, bombs that exploded with loud noises and bright light to blind and deafen, laser grids that set off alarms that would let them know where in the mansion the exorcists and managed to break into…

He’d asked Katerina how the Exorcists had managed to reach her and Yulia when he knew they sheltered in their house during exterminations and Exorcists usually went for those on the streets, the easiest targets.

They’d broken through the roof, Katerina had revealed, expression haunted. They’d broken through the roof and the spear had come down –

Exorcists had wings. They could fly. They would focus their attacks from above. So Alastor had grown to his larger form and carved runes into the ceiling. Runes to strength, to protect, to harden.

He was confident that the orphanage roof wouldn’t break down under spears like Katerina’s house had. The only thing left was for Lucifer and Lilith to test the defences.

“As you are currently the only angel we have, and as Lilith is roughly equivalent in power to the leader of the Exorcists, I was hoping you could attack our defences and we could see whether or not they work,” Alastor said, waving his hand with his microphone at the Orphanage as everyone finished explaining the various fortifications they’d been put in.

“Sure thing!” Lucifer said and waved a hand and – a group of Exorcists appeared out of nowhere –

Alastor was reacting before he even noticed the frightened cries or Yulia’s high pitched, abjectly terrified scream, grabbing Yulia from her mother’s side with some shadow tendrils and dumping her by the rest of the children, sorry Katerina, he summoned his new and improved shield. It was smaller than the one he’d used to protect the hotel, focused purely on defence rather than being able to grab the Exorcist’s weapons and use them against them, and layered, and he could strengthen it, he had less power from less souls but with he microphone he could use some of Lilith’s, blast sound through the microphone, sing, distract them as he used the shadows to teleport the children away he had to protect the children –

Carmilla had leapt in front of her daughters, yelling at them to run, with Zestial in front of her and starting to glow –

Rosie was growing, teeth lengthening and hands twisting into claws –

Sir Pentious had pulled out a pistol from somewhere and was firing fruitlessly at the nearest Exorcist instead of running the idiot –

None of that mattered he needed to focus. He could only send one person at a time through his shadows he’d send Charlie away first – wait Charlie was the princess she’d be safe her parents were here he’d start with Yulia as the youngest then the cannibal children one by one then –

Charlie stepped in front of him.

Charlie stepped in front of him, back straight, hair loose and horns peaking up from her head with her tail waving behind her as she stood to defend her people, the Princess of Hell he’d always known she could be and no no no Charlie get back get behind him –

Lucifer snapped his fingers.

Suddenly, the exorcists, which – hadn’t been attacking? – were dressed in…yellow duck onesies?

Their wings had morphed into bright yellow duck wings.

Even their masks were now bright paper mâché duck faces and – one of them was removing it and revealing – a Lucifer clone. Cringing.

So was the main Lucifer.

Everyone froze.

Lucifer gave a grimacing smile and waved at them awkwardly. Next to him, Lilith had her face buried in her palm.

“Heh…sorry?” said the absolute and utter moron that was the King of Hell. “You said to test them so I thought we’d, you know, test them against people who looked like…it seemed like a good idea at the time?” he trailed off guiltily.

Ah, so this is what a heart attack feels like, Alastor thought distantly as the blood roared in his ears and his vision had gained the red tint which meant his eyes had morphed to radio dials.

Alastor let the shield fall and paid no mind to Katerina charging in and grabbing her daughter.

“You Majesty?” he asked, directing his question to Lilith, who raised her head from her hand.

“Yes Alastor?” She asked, as composed as if her husband hadn’t just caused a panic and almost caused three overlords to unleash their true demon forms.

“Please hit your husband for me, I’m too far away right now.”

“Of course.”

“Hey – oof!”

With Lucifer officially punished for his stupidity, things calmed down a little, especially with Lucifer conjuring candies for the children, which instantly earned him their forgiveness.

Eventually, Alastor was able to sit down with the original Lucifer and watch as the fauxorcists tried to attack the Orphanage. Lilith was sitting by Katerina and Yulia, complimenting the woman on her brightly embroidered shirt, and Charlie was with her little friends, cheering every time the defences got one of the ducks. He’d been right to add so many protections to the roof, he noted, as splurts of tar and bursts of glitter rained down on disguised Lucifer’s in duck onesies as they attacked the ceiling, walls, and door with conjured spears of angelic steel.

The defenses were holding – at least for the ‘exorcists’, who didn’t have the powers of Adam or a Seraphim.

Speaking of the clones…

“Is it hard for you to control that many copies?” Alastor asked curiously, twirling his microphone as he sat next to Lucifer, one leg crossed over the other.

Lucifer blinked at him. “Hard? Oh – nope, I’m all of them. And the one sitting here with you. I’m not controlling them, I am them.” As if to prove it, one copy turned to face where they were and waved at Alastor, before getting hit in the face with a glitter bomb. “It’s sort of like I’m a many headed many limbed beast with multiple bodies that can control all of them – yeah, there’s a reason most angel greet humans with ‘don’t be afraid’,” Lucifer grinned at him.

“I’m an angel, having a body is actually relatively new in my lifespan. I haven’t even had it for a million years!”

Alastor sat frozen. Putting aside the fact that Lucifer being able to essentially be in multiple places at once was both horrifying and intriguing – for him to consider a million years new…

“Sire? How old are you?”

“I’ll tell you if you call me by my name.”

Alastor rolled his eyes. “Lucifer. How old are you?”

Lucifer grinned cockily at him. “About 13 and half…billion years old?”

The number boggled the mind. Alastor was suddenly aware that even Lilith, the First Woman, one of the oldest humans in existence was a child compared to the ancient being sitting next to him.

“How are you not bored?.” He’d barely lasted a century!

“I don’t know,” Lucifer shrugged. “I’ve never really been bored. Depressed sometimes, yeah, but never bored. Even when there wasn’t really anything, even when I was just sitting there making suns by moving around gasses and gravity for a million years, I was never bored. I guess we just…weren’t made to feel that way.” Lucifer span his own apple topped cane in his hands, eyes suddenly distant.

All those years with his siblings. With his creator. And he’d given it all up for them. For humanity. To be ripped away from all you’ve ever known…

“Lucifer,” Alastor said, suddenly leaning so they were close enough to breath each other’s air, and for him to see the way Lucifer’s eyes widened and his cheeks, usually porcelain white with the red marks he shared with his daughter, flushed a warm, peachy gold.

“Yes,” Lucifer cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Thank you,” Alastor said, and then sat back abruptly, ignoring the noises Lucifer was making.

He liked ducks so much he apparently endeavoured to sound like one that was dying.

“Tell the clones to stop,” Alastor said, clapping his hands and standing.

“Everyone!” he called out, drawing their attention. “I think it’s clear now that the defenses will hold against any normal exorcist.” There were mutters and a small cheer as the crowd looked at each other with glee, which faded as he continued. “Unfortunately, we aren’t just facing normal Exorcists. If Adam sees his ‘girls’ failing to break in, he’ll come himself, though I’ll do my best to keep him preoccupied. So…” Alastor reached out, and activated a small rune he’d carved into the door. The rune flashed a bright, eldritch green, and his shield flickered into place, a dome surrounding the Orphanage.

As much as he hated to admit it, he was currently weaker than he’d been in years. Alastor had had plenty of soul deals, plenty of power, that had been ripped away when he’d died. Now he needed to build it back up again but it would take time and patience – and even when he was as powerful as he’d ever been, Adam had broken through his shield with one blow. He’d edited it, layered it, borrowed some of Zestial’s ancient knowledge and power to make it as strong as possible – but this Orphanage held their most vulnerable.

Their most innocent.

Alastor would not allow a pig like Adam to break in and kill all the children inside. He refused.

“Your majesty,” he called out, looking over at Lilith who had moved to stand next to Lucifer. “Would you say you’re about equal to Adam in power level?”

She tilted her head slightly to the side, seriously considering the question. “In sheer power levels, yes, but he’s an angel – holy power is strong against demonic.”

Alastor nodded to the shield.

“Can you test it?”

Lilith stepped up, long purple dress rustling around her feet, fine blonde hair waving in the breeze. She eyed the shield for a moment then lifted one fist and punched the shield.

It wavered, but held.

She punched it again.

A crack this time. Alastor gritted his teeth.

She stepped back, and seemed to draw in a deep breath, and as she did so she changed. Her eyes changed, glowing bright white with slit pupils against a purple background, her hair whipped around her in snakelike strands, her horns grew from her head – and crackling, violet energy formed around her fist.

She lashed out at the shield.

It broke.

Alastor muttered a curse. Carmilla frowned, Pentious drooped, and even the cannibals looked downcast.

Three blows.

“How many would that be for Adam, and his holy power?” he asked.

“Probably two,” answered Lilith sombrely.

Two. That wasn’t even enough to evacuate them through the secret passageways he’d insisted Pentious add – and even if they did, where would they?

Nowhere was safe.

“Don’t give up!” Alastor heard a small, bright voice next to him.

He turned and looked at Charlie, who looked back at him, then around at the downcast faces around her.

Suddenly, he knew.

She was going to sing.

He could stop her.

But…

Silently, Alastor handed Charlie his microphone.

She swallowed, then took it, and began to sing.

“We can do this, somehow I know it,

We’ll build something heaven can’t break down.

We’ll protect them, we can do it,

So put away those frowns!”

Alastor watched as she sang, as Hell itself produced a spotlight for Charlie, just as it had done in Cannibal Town, as she walked forward and people started to smile.

Pentious was the next one to add to the song, singing along as he brightened up and his egg bois.

Katerina added a line, then Yulia, and then like a dam breaking they were all singing, dancing along, saying they could do it.

It was too early to give up.

Finally, the song finished, one final line sung together.

“It’ll be a fucking Happy Day in Hell!”

Lilith stepped up, looking at her daughter with burning pride, and then turning her gaze to the rest of them.

“Don’t go anywhere yet, Zestial, Rosie,” said the Queen of Hell. “If power is the issue, and Neither Lucifer not I can contribute – its time those who consider themselves the rulers of pride get with the program.”

She grinned.

“I’m calling an overlord meeting.”

Chapter 19

 

The Queen had decreed, and from across the Pride Ring, they came.

Alastor hadn’t seen this many overlords in one place…oh, ever! Even Carmilla’s yearly Overlord meetings weren’t attended by every Sovereign Overlord – for instance, Alastor had never met the famed Von Eldritch’s in person before. Yet here they were, stepping out of a poisonous green portal with flare, both of them with white hair, dark green skin and eyes that same eldritch green which reminded him of his own magic, and also Zestial’s. Bethesda’s hair was almost as long as Lilith’s, and she rushed over to her with open arms and a glad cry of ‘Lily!’. Lilith accepted the hug with a warm smile. Alastor watched, enjoying seeing Lilith so happy and natural, chatting with another woman without having to be on her guard or bring the mantle of ‘queen’ around her as a shield.

Frederick von Eldritch, on the other hand, immediately reminded Alastor of several people he’d known when he was alive, both people he’d had to put up with because, as awful as they were, they weren’t abusers, rapists, murderers, or otherwise the kind of evil that deserved death – and people who had been. The type of man who was old money, noble, thought so highly of himself, and unironically said things like ‘there are no men like me’ when the world was full of men like him.

Von Eldritch grinned a smarmy, sharp toothed grin as he wondered over to where Lucifer and Alastor were, adjusting his hat and greeting Lucifer with a chummy ‘Lucy!’ and ignoring Alastor completely.

“Good to see you out of the house old boy – and with Lilith no less!” The noble hellborn – from Envy, if he wasn’t mistaken, Alastor would need to watch out for typical infestor tricks – elbowed Lucifer with a friendly grin. Alastor watched sharply, alert for tricks, but Lucifer just smiled happily back. The two started walking towards Zestial’s house, which he had volunteered for this little meeting. Zestial had been the overlord leader before Carmilla, and before she had taken her place there had been a few overlord meetings in this house – mostly, it had just been Alastor, Rosie and Zestial (and Carmilla) sitting around sipping tea and coffee and gossiping. Alastor had killed all the other possible attendees, after all. Alastor trailed behind them, microphone held behind his back.

“Yeah! Things are – things are going really well,” Lucifer said, smiling.

“I heard, I heard! You moved out of the palace and in with her? Guess that means I get to stop trying to introduce you to nice hellborn girls!”

“Feel free to stop doing that!” Lucifer laughed. “I swear between you and Ozzie…Anyway, this is Alastor –”

He turned and gestured at where Alastor was, which was surprising. Alastor hadn’t expected him to bring him up or even notice him now that his hellborn, non-sinner, rich friend was here.

Von Eldritch waved the attempted introduction off. “You don’t need to introduce the help to me Lucy – especially not a sinner, really, what were you thinking? I know Lilith likes having them around, but around Charlie?”

Lucifer stopped. Alastor, a bit confused, stopped as well, as Lucifer looked at Von Eldritch for a long moment. Then he turned his head and – waved Alastor over?

Microphone still behind his back, Alastor walked jauntily over to where they were standing, hiding his confusion behind his smile as Lucifer reached out and pulled him to stand at his right side, before removing his hand before Alastor could start feeling the itchy feelings of ants running around his skin that came from too much touching.

“Alastor is part of the family, Freddy,” Lucifer said to Von Eldritch, face suddenly very serious. “I consider insults to him the same as insults to me – or Lilith and Charlie.”

And then he marched forward, a gobsmacked Alastor hurrying to keep up despite the leg size difference.

Part of the family?!

When had that happened?!

He could see Lilith saying it, and Charlie definitely felt he was part of the family, as was normal for children her age with their nanny’s, but Lucifer?! He hated sinners! He hated Alastor!

Sure, he’d stopped insulting him and looking at him with that mixture of disdain and disgust that had so infuriated him at the beginning, he’d gotten him that wonderful gift of allowing him to see his mother’s face for the first time in so long, he’d helped him when he was struggling during the extermination, he’d listened to his advice for how to improve Hell, and actually implemented it – but to call him part of the family??!

Alastor felt like he’d been walking down the stairs and suddenly missed the point where the usually steady stairs had turned into a slide and now he was being rushed down who knows where pulled by gravity and with no control whatsoever.

On the other hand, the look on that arrogant ass Von Eldritch’s face had been marvelous!

The three of them stepped in to the parlour of Zestial’s house after Bethesda and Lilith, and Alastor watched as the other two went to stand next to their wives – or, wife and ex-wife? Soon to be once again wife?

Once and future wife, hah!

Alastor was quite happy to skip the boring part and go stand with Carmilla in a room just off the main dining room where the meeting would be.

It was a small study decorated to her taste, with her collection of Angelic steel weapons on the wall. Carmilla was studying them. Alastor came up next to her and looked as well. Last time, this collection had quickly been melted down once Carmilla had figured out the trick (a trick which neither Alastor, nor anyone else who wasn’t her daughters or one of her owned souls bound to silence, knew. Carmilla was ferocious in keeping up her monopoly) to altering Angelic Steel, despite the fact that she had clearly put a lot of effort into collecting not just the usual spears, but other weapons, including a massive double headed battle axe, some swords, and a few long weapons that Alastor could not have told the difference between if you paid him but were probably varieties of halberd, glaives, pikes and the like. Carmilla was pragmatic like that.

“Do you know what gets me, about these weapons?” Carmilla asked suddenly, in what was probably a rhetorical question considering she kept going almost immediately. “For all that several of these weapons show a masterwork in metalworking – they were all just abandoned down here. Stuck in the bodies of those they slew. Not even on the bodies of their own dead because they can’t be killed. The sheer waste of it…”

“Conspicuous consumption for the modern angel!” Alastor had his microphone play a laugh track.

“Lucifer can make things out of nothing,” he said. “If other angels are like that, ‘waste’ is probably not something they consider at all. It doesn’t matter if someone leaves their weapon down here, because they can just get a hundred new ones up in Heaven. A true post scarcity society!”

“I hate rich people,” muttered Carmilla in agreement, which Alastor had to turn to her and raise an eyebrow at.

“Carmilla, you are rich people,” he pointed out dryly.

“So are you,” Carmilla shot back, equally as dry.

Alastor…couldn’t argue with that. With his ad revenue, and his regular payments from Lilith – he never would have been able to bail out the amount of money he’d paid to Dementus for Mimzy before. Ugh.

He must have made a face at his realisation because Carmilla – stone faced Carmilla who had never raised so much as an eyebrow at his antics before, let out a little huff of breath through her nostrils that was almost a laugh.

He grinned at her, delighted, and ignored the movement at his tailbone of the annoying tail trying to wag.

“I didn’t use to be,” she said, eyes distant. “I used to be a ballerina.”

“I never would have guessed,” Alastor proclaimed, waggling his eyebrows at her feet that were, though not glad in angelic steel at this moment, were still very clearly morphed into a shape that had her constantly on pointe, and the ribbons that snaked up her legs.

Carmilla continued on, ignoring his comment. “I was stupid, when I was younger. Trusted a man’s promises and was left with nothing but the most important thing in the world. Do you know how hard it is to get back in shape to be a professional ballerina after being pregnant? But I did it, because I was good and I knew I could use that to provide a life for my daughter, but I was getting older and I wanted more for her, so when I had a gentleman caller who was wealthy, I made sure that this time he married me before I gave him the goods. I don’t regret it, or that I got Clara from it, but perhaps if I had known he was the head of a cartel…”

She trailed off, and Alastor saw, in the depths of her white on red eyes, a hint of regret as she turned and looked at her daughters – her daughters, who would never be older than they were now. Her daughters, who were in Hell with her.

“If you had known Hell existed, would you have done things differently?” Alastor asked, genuinely curious.

“Yes,” Carmilla answered without hesitation. “I thought by getting them involved I was keeping them safe, making them players instead of pawns, but if I’d known doing so would doom them for eternity I would have kept them far away. Sent them to the church maybe, or found them kind husbands.”

“Ah, but how do you know that would have saved them?” Alastor asked. “Once you were gone anything could have happened – perhaps those kind husbands would have cheated on them and they would have cheated back in response, or hit them and they would have killed them to be free. And the church?! Do you have any idea how many people are hurt by the church? And even if they were perfectly good people who didn’t sin knowingly, we who have been working on the orphanage know for a fact that that doesn’t always save you. And then they would have been in Hell without you there to protect them.”

Carmilla paused, apparently having never thought of it that way before. Alastor twirled his microphone. “And finally – as someone who’s mother was a saint, and is undoubtedly in Heaven right now, even if you are right and you could have made sure they would get into Heaven, they would have undoubtedly preferred to be in Hell with you then in paradise without you.”

That was the thing, about being a child with a mother who loved you to the point of sacrifice. You ended up feeling guilty about it. Every time he’d made a mistake, his father had made sure his mother paid for it. Every time his father had come home drunk and angry, his mother would send him to his room and he’d have to listen to the sounds, the shouts and the smacks and the cries and her quiet sobbing.

(Some part of him, a part he didn’t like to acknowledge. Wished that she’d been less good, less herself, less kind and forgiving – that she’d just killed the fucker, poisoned him like so many did. That she’d set them free. In the end, Alastor had been the one to do it, and he’d been too late to save her.)

Carmilla looked at him with a look he’d never seen on her face before. She was always far more tolerant of his antics then those of someone she disliked, like the Vees, but he’d never seen this sadness in her eyes when she looked at him before.

“Alastor – how certain are you that your mother is in Heaven?”

Alastor froze, ears down against his skull despite himself, breath coming out in a shaky exhale as his tail quivered and his skin broke out in goosebumps.

“Of course she is,” he snapped, holding onto his smile by the edge of his teeth. “She was a wonderful person who never sinned in her life. And if she’d ended up in Hell I’d have found her and kept her safe –”

Except she’d died when he was only sixteen years old, over a decade before he’d shown up in Hell. Seventeen years.

Seventeen Exterminations.

No. No, no, no –

“She was a good person,” he repeated desperately.

“Yes,” said Carmilla, tone almost gentle. “But as you reminded me – so are several who are in Hell. So are you, Alastor.”

That calmed him down.

“I’m really not,” he said, terror subsiding. “I’m nothing like her – she was probably forgiving the fucker even as he murdered her, whereas I – I am a vengeful bitch!” he laughed, calming down. Yes. His mother was good, and would be in Heaven.

“I’ll ask Lucifer,” he said, thinking of Lucifer getting Charlie a meeting in Heaven. “He has strings he can pull, I’m sure he can find out if she’s in Heaven – I’m sure she’s in Heaven.”

“He would do that for you?” asked Carmilla, blinking in mild shock.

“Oh, certainly – he might even help you with figuring out how to melt down Angelic Steel!” he grinned at her mischievously, enjoying how she froze as she realised he’d figured out what she was trying to do.

“He likes being helpful – and also showing off.”

There was a sound from the doorway, and they turned to see Zestial looming there. He filled most of the doorway, but Alastor could get a glimpse of Dementus behind him, presumably having been talking with Zestial. The Overlord of Money nodded quietly to himself and Carmilla, in an odd gesture of respect – especially odd as his nod to Alastor was slightly lower than that to Carmilla.

“Carmilla,” Zestial intoned, voice warm. “You will be attending the meeting with me, sitting at my right hand, my friend.”

Carmilla looked warmly at him. For an up-and-coming Overlord like herself, getting to sit at the table for a meeting of Sovereign Overlords was an invaluable experience, especially considering the optics of Zestial, widely considered the current leader of the Overlords, to place her at his right-hand side.

“Well, I will trust you two to make sure the others give their best for the protection of our Orphanage in that utterly boring meeting I am oh so upset to not be part of!” Alastor said cheerfully, grinning at them.

Zestial smiled back, eerie green eyes somehow showing amusement, despite no iris or pupil to be seen.

“Alas, Alastor, you shalt not be spared from boredom in this instance,” he said in his rich dark voice. “The Queen hath asked me to ensure you wouldst come to the table.”

Ugh. And here he’d thought not being an Overlord meant that at least he’d be spared the boring meetings – though that last one had been rather fun, there was no Velvette in this time to brandish an Exorcists head or walk on top of the table.

She was a brash, arrogant, senseless little thing who didn’t understand how outclassed she was, but she was fun, and by far his favourite of the Vees, though that wasn’t saying much.

With a sigh, Alastor followed Zestial, Dementus and Carmilla into the dining room.

Lilith sat at the head of the table, horns out and crown on and looking every inch the powerful and deadly ruler she was. On her right side sat Lucifer, fiddling with his staff and looking bored, though he perked up at the sight of Alastor. There was an empty space to her left that Alastor expected Zestial to head to, but instead Lilith gestured to him to sit down there, putting him at her left side and directly across from Lucifer.

To Alastor’s left side was Zestial, and then Carmilla, across from Frederick Von Eldritch and Bethesda. Bethesda was next to Rosie, who had the misfortune of being next to Silena, the Drug overlord, though she was fortunately ignoring her to chat to the horned, shadowed figure of her partner, Scarecrow, who was nominally the Overlord of Growth. He proclaimed that he was responsible for growing half the food that the Pride Ring ate, but Alastor had investigated the first time and found that it was actually mostly his owned souls doing all the work – he hadn’t even needed to step in after killing him before, the free souls had simply continued what they were doing under their new leader, with slightly better pay and less being forcibly addicted to drugs.

He also grew the drugs that Silena sold. The two of them were glaring at Lucifer, who wasn’t paying them any attention whatsoever.

Poor Carmilla had Dementus to her left side, then the Overlord known simply as the Preacher, who proclaimed himself the Overlord of Purity and ranted to his brainwashed congregation full of racists and slave owners and ‘good, godfearing americans’ that this was simply Purgatory, not Hell, and that they could claim their ‘rightful place’ in Heaven by giving him their souls and listening to everything he said. He was the second newest Overlord of the bunch. The previous religious Overlord had died in the first Extermination along with all his souls, having gone out into the streets to embrace the ‘rapture’ that was the angels coming to take them to Heaven.

Between him taking the religious hypocrites and Bluebeard having taken the crazies, the psychopaths, the ones who couldn’t control themselves, most of the rest of the overlords took souls that fit a specific standard. Rosie, of course, ruled the Cannibals, and even though she was the weakest, no one bothered her, because – well, because they all remembered what Cannibals had been like before she’d come, and nobody wanted to deal with that again.

Morrette had taken the scientists, and a bunch of other people as experiments. He’d been allowed as long as he didn’t poach owned souls, and sold the inventions and results he came up with to the others. Aphrodite had taken those she found attractive, Silena took those addicted to her drugs, Scarecrow took those skilled in farming and plant husbandry, Zestial ruled over information and therefore had not just the publishing industry but also many spies in every sector of Pride, and Dementus took accountants, bankers, lawyers, restaurant owners…anyone who would make him money.

Next to Dementus was the Overlord of Movies, Evvand, who ran the film industry of Hell, a purple demon with walrus like horns dressed in a loose green suit who was widely considered to be good to work for. He didn’t have a ‘casting couch’ method, he paid decently, he trusted his actors and directors to know what they were doing…

Alastor had actually considered allowing him to live, the first time around, like he had Rosie and Zestial. But something had felt off about him, so one day, when the man was away on one of his numerous trips outside of Pentagram City, Alastor had broken into his house.

He’d found his basement. He’d found what was in his basement.

He’d found the pictures and films, the evidence, the trophies, of what had taken place in that basement. He’d realised, at that exact moment, why Evvand spent so much time out of Pentagram and in Imp City.

Sinners couldn’t have children. A child in Pentagram was noticed, protected, especially the Cannibal ones. An Imp child, on the other hand…

Alastor had made that death slow.

Evvand had been out of Pentagram lately, except for during the Extermination where sinners couldn’t leave, but Alastor had been preoccupied. He hadn’t been able to leave Charlie alone for long enough to go after him, but now…Lilith had delivered him to him on a silver platter.

Still, as much as he’d like to show how much a few more decades in Hell had increased his torture skills to the disgusting man…while he’d killed him last time, he hadn’t been able to do anything for the victim’s families. They had received no closure, no knowledge that the one who had done that to their children was dead – or even what had been done to them.

He had no link to the Hellborn communities, no pull, no ability to find names to match to those faces…but Lilith and Lucifer did.

Sending a silent request to his shadow, Alastor felt it slip away and turned to look at Lilith, catching her eye. Then he gestured with his own eyes, very briefly, at Evvand, then back to her. She blinked slowly in acknowledgement, and then didn’t react as his shadow manifested and put one of the photo albums the man had kept in her lap. On top was a note he’d asked the shadow to scribble on some paper.

Give him to the families, it said.

Lilith looked down and opened the album. She paused. She moved slightly, flipping through a few pages, then shut the book. She looked up and nodded at Alastor, and when she looked at the Overlord of Movies, her eyes were cold as ice.

With Evvand the last one on this side of the table, facing Scarecrow, all the Overlords bar one were lined up on each side of the table.

Bar one.

He’d forgotten about him.

Ha! He’d actually forgotten about him! He’d been dead in Alastor’s life longer than he’d ever been alive and Alastor had gotten used to that, even though he was back in time, even though he was hunting down Overlords he’d killed once, he’d forgotten about the first overlord he’d killed. The one that hadn’t been planned, hadn’t been a hunt, had just been him seeing that face and hearing that voice and registering that he was here, alive, and rampaging until he wasn’t.

Sitting at the very end of the table opposite Lilith was a demon that had wolf features, black fur, and a neat pinstriped suit. The newest Overlord. The Mafia Overlord. A man who had come to hell in 1916 and been the quickest rise to power anyone had ever seen until – well, until Alastor, taking over various mob and mafia and kingpin groups and territories and running Pentagram Cities official underworld. If anyone else had been sitting there, perhaps they might have been able to finagle that position into seeming to switch the power dynamics of the table around, make it so that he was sitting at the head of the table, but this man could never have managed that. Instead, he sat there, and fumed at the disrespect, and glared at Lilith for having the audacity to be a woman with more power than him.

Alastor ignored him.

He didn’t look at him, he didn’t acknowledge him. Instead, he folded his hands on the table and focused all his attention on Lilith.

Lilith started the meeting.

“Thank you all for coming. As you may or may not know, my daughters Nanny has teamed up with some Overlords to make the very first of its kind – an Orphanage, for Hell’s youngest sinners.”

The man Alastor was ignoring rudely interrupted her, snorting. “you’re working as a babysitter now boy?”

Alastor ignored him.

That got that familiar voice to darken. “Don’t ignore me, boy,” he growled.

Don’t give me that cheek boy!

Alastor ignored him.

Lucifer didn’t. Lucifer, who had been slouched in his seat was now slowly sitting up, looking at the man Alastor was ignoring at the end of the table.

“Richard…Hawthorn…” Lucifer said with recognition. He spoke softly, slowly, quietly.

Dangerously.

Alastor felt his smile become slightly more real.

Chapter 20

How did Lucifer know Alastor’s father’s name?

Or no, he knew that Lucifer knew every sinner’s real name – rather, how did he know who he was to Alastor? And he clearly knew who he was, Alastor was the only connection Lucifer would have to Richard Hawthorn.

Lucifer had given Alastor that picture of his mother, which had been on Earth, and there were stories of mortals encountering the Devil – including one that featured a golden violin, that Lucifer had played at Alastor in the last timeline, and Alastor really should have started playing ‘the Devil Went Down to Georgia’ at him ages ago but honestly he hadn’t really thought of it until now – so perhaps Lucifer had access to Earth, access enough to learn about the sort of man Richard was. The sort of things he’d done to Alastor’s mother.

(To Alastor.)

But why would he care –

Alastor is part of the family.

If someone (other then Rosie) had killed one of Rosie’s husband’s, or one of Mimzy’s girls, or someone Niffty cared for, what would Alastor do? How would he feel?

Probably roughly the same as Lucifer looked right now as he slowly stood up from his chair, eyes inverted and tail out and lashing, though the horns and wings and hellfire were still tucked away for now.

Richard was actually leaning away slightly, apparently able to tell when someone in the room was more powerful than him when their presence was weighing down everyone in the room and also, they were male.

“Now, Your, uh, Majesty? I don’t know what the boy told you about me –”

“Nothing. He told me nothing. I did my own research,” Lucifer said, starting to walk forwards towards him – through the table. Alastor blinked, ears twitching in surprise as Lucifer shattered the table around him with every step. The immovable object met the unstoppable force and discovered it wasn’t immovable before a Seraphim. It was a fascinating sight. Even sinners, even Alastor unless he drew on his full demon form, couldn’t simply walk through a table, or a wall, or a door, and except the object to shatter instead of him. His new body may have been formed from the dust and ash of Hell around his soul when it landed here, but it was still a body, with all that entailed, full of blood and bone and flesh and sinew. He bruised, he broke, he bled.

But not Lucifer.

“I’ve heard about him, helping in the exterminations, taking in souls, pretending to be all soft and nice, but it’s a lie!” Richard continued desperately, as the King of Hell came towards him like the oncoming tide.

Oh? Had he been figured out? He hadn’t thought Richard had paid enough attention to his half breed bastard to notice the hate growing in his eyes, all those years ago, to understand what sort of monster he’d sired, but if he had…

“He’s not the kind, gentle person you think he is – he’s the reason I’m here!” Richard shouted.

Ah, well, that was disappointing. He hadn’t noticed anything, he was just upset about being murdered!

As if he had any leg to stand on.

“No one else is the reason any of you are here,” Lucifer said, almost gently, still walking through the table that shattered around him. “You all made your own choices.” His lips quirked as he shot a look back at Alastor, as though they were sharing an inside joke. “Respect your own autonomy.”

Alastor couldn’t help but let out a blurt of static like a snicker, and Lucifer’s eyes twinkled at him.

Maybe having Lucifer focused on someone else made Richard brave. Or maybe he was just annoyed Alastor was still ignoring him.

“He killed me! His own father!”

From next to him, Alastor heard Lilith gasp, and a hand took his own, fingers weaving into his to stop him from digging his sharp nails into the flesh of his hand. His other hand was digging gauges into the already wrecked wood of Zestial’s table.

“He shot me in the face!” Richard shouted, glaring at Alastor, and that was it. Alastor broke.

He snarled, power surging, more then he wanted to show before so many Overlords he was planning on killing later, as his vision bled red with the tick, tick, TICK of radio dials and the stitches and his death mark gleamed blood red, bones cracking, neck lengthening and twisting, mouth stretching and gaping as black drool dripped down his face.

“Why don’t you tell him what you were doing when I shot you?” he growled.

“A man has a right to do what he wants with his wife!” Richard shouted, and oh, now Lilith, Carmilla, and even Silena were glaring at him.

“Bullshit!” Alastor snaped, accompanying it with a literal snap of his neck. “Not if she says no! And she wasn’t even your wife –”

“Only because of the anti-miscegenation laws, she was as good as and everyone knew it –”

“YOU KILLED HER!” Alastor howled, and Richard froze for a moment, slit pupiled green wolf eyes widening in shock, realisation and – a moment of horror. A moment of regret. Before they firmed, rationalisations covering over that moment of humanity. But Alastor saw. Alastor knew.

“You didn’t know,” Alastor whispered, and started to laugh madly.

“What did you think would happen when you beat her and raped her and strangled her and broke her bones!”

He’d just wanted to get him away from her, was the thing.

He’d needed to get him away from her.

That was the thing that got him, later – that it hadn’t been revenge, hadn’t been one of the many ways he’d dreamed of making his father suffer and regret how he treated them – how he treated her.

He walked in on him hurting her, seen how her chest was shuddering as she dragged in ragged breaths, how her face was bloody and swollen, how her arms were broken, and he’d just needed to get him away from her.

He’d used the hunting rifle.

The one Richard had shown him how to hunt with.

(When he’d taken down a stag in one shot, he’d crowed about it, ruffled his hair, announced that ‘that’s my boy!’, been proud of him as his son. He’d been eight, tanned three shades darker than normal in the summer sun and skinny with knobbly knees and a missing front tooth and wild curls and he’d been so proud of making him proud. So eager to make him happy.

That was the thing, about having an abusive parent. There was always a part of you, a small part that whispered in the voice of the child you had been ‘why don’t you love me?’

‘What am I doing wrong?’

‘What can I do to make you love me?’

‘Why are you hurting me? What did I do wrong?’

Nothing. He had done nothing. If it had just been Alastor, perhaps he could have rationalised it. Thought that Richard had seen something in him, that dark and angry and hungry thing that liked hurting people. Tat thing that was like Richard himself.

But it had been his mother as well. His maman, who had never had a bad word to say about anyone, who had gone to church and taught Alastor Voodoo and emphasised ‘love thy neighbour’ and that voodoo was about life and love and healing.

That had accepted every guest that came sneaking to her small apartment in the French Quarter, with its herb garden and roses, and helped them with bruises and black eyes and sprained limbs and sniffles and nausea and taking care of the consequences of some of the ladies’ jobs. That had smiled, and sang, and taught Alastor everything he knew about gardening, about herblore, about magic.

Amelie Deveraux had been an angel even before she’d ended up in Heaven, and Richard had hurt her, relentlessly, for years, and eventually he had killed her.)

He’d shoved the faceless mess that had once been his father off her and picked her up and ran. He’d stolen a car, thanking Mimzy for teaching him to hotwire them as he did so, and careened down the road like the devil was right behind them – but if the Devil had been behind them, he could have healed her, she would have lived. It wasn’t Lucifer who was the devil in the room, it was Richard and Dementus and Evvand and the Preacher and all the people like them and he was going to kill them all and torture them and broadcast their screams –

Lilith’s other hand was taking his other hand away from – oh, he’d been pulling at his hair again. He really needed to get control of that.

His mother would hate it.

His mother loved his hair.

Because it was like hers, curly and wavy and wild – but he’d ruined it, hadn’t he? Not by the pulling, no, but by straightening it, just like he’d ruined his accent that was so like hers, even now his hair was straight and his skin was pale beige and he talked in the radio voice that had become his, no louisiana lilt to his words.

He'd raced down the highway with her resting against his side, counting each fragile, laboured breath that wafted against his cheek.

He’d known when they’d stopped, but he’d ignored it, skidded to a halt in the emergency area of the nearest black hospital – couldn’t go to one of the white ones, oh no, not them, never mind that it was closer, never mind that it was better staffed and had better equipment and the doctors and nurses had better training.

He’d begged them, to help her, to save her, even as part of him had known it was too late.

It had been one of the nurses that came and told him, comforted him, a woman even darker than his mother with kind eyes, hair straightened and pulled into a bun under her neat white cap, wearing starched white linens and talking with a familiar drawl. She’d held him then, as he shuddered apart, a moment of humanity and kindness in the worst moment of his life.

He’d wiped his tears, and gone home, and put Richard’s body in the bathtub as he cleaned the floor of all the blood, layers of bleaching to get everything clean. Then he’d used the stolen car to transport him out to the bayou, the same bayou he would buy a house in later, the same bayou that Richard had taught him how to hunt in, (the same bayou that he would be running for that day when he’d been shot at while burying a body and bolted like a startled deer for safety) and sank his body into the swamp, food for the alligators. He’d left the car there and walked home, and stood in the empty living room, and known nothing would be the same again.

That had been the last day he’d cried.

Lilith was gently pressing his hands down to the remnants of the table, her fingers interlaced with his to stop him from pulling out anymore hair or clawing at himself as he turned and looked at where Lucifer had reached the end of the table.

Richard broke, and tried to run, but without a gesture or a movement, even a snap of his fingers, Lucifer manifested golden snakes with acid dripping from their fangs to bind him to his chair.

Lucifer was looking at him, and Alastor didn’t know what he was seeing in his face, in his black and red eyes and smile that was only staying on through years of practice, but it made his gaze heavy as he turned back to where Richard was bound to his chair, looking down at him with the weight of ages.

Now, the wings came out. The full glory of the King of Hell as he proclaimed judgement on the sinner before him.

Divine Judgement.

“Do you know why they call me Morningstar?” he asked Richard casually. “It’s because I made the sun. I made all the suns, actually – the stars are suns, FYI, not sure if you lot have discovered that yet or not. It’s in my very name. Lucifer. I’m the Light Bringer. When Father said, ‘let there be Light’, that Light was me.”

He clicked his fingers and a golden light washed over the rest of the room, forming – forming a barrier, Alastor realised, looking down at the golden glow that clung to their skin and the room – but not Richard. Protecting them, from whatever Lucifer was about to do.

“Do you want to know how I made the suns, Richard?” Lucifer asked, holding out a hand.

“Like this.”

Wide eyed, Alastor watched as a ball of glittering particles formed above Lucifer’s hand. It was streams of dust and gas, helium and hydrogen, whirling around as Alastor was witness, in a few seconds, to the process that would take millions of years normally. It formed a rotating ball of plasma, burning white hot, resting gently above Lucifer’s hand.

The golden barrier was clearly doing its job in protecting them, because they felt nothing of the extreme heat that was bleaching the chair Ruchard was bound to and the wall and floor behind and around him – not mention making him grimace from the pain as his fur singed and started to crisp away.

And that was just from the ball being above Lucifer’s hand. With a gesture, Lucifer sent the tiny sun floating slowly across the space between them, and as it got closer Richard started to burn. His fur entirely crisped away, revealing skin that started to blister and blacken and burst and send the lovely smell of cooking meat through the room.

Alastor enjoyed the smell, and noticed Rosie happily sniffing the air too.

Richard was trying to get away, black patent-leather shoes scrabbling at the ground fruitlessly as his eyes burst in their sockets. He was screaming by now.

It was slow, it was torturous, it was what he deserved.

 

Alastor should be enjoying it, and he was, he really, really was – but it wasn’t enough.

Alastor dissolved into shadow and vanished from Lilith’s grasp and his seat to standing beside Lucifer, one hand on his arm.

“Stop,” he said.

Lucifer paused, and looked back at him with furrowed brows, but the tiny sun stopped its movement towards the bound and by now rather charbroiled figure of his father.

Alastor looked over at him. “Can he hear me?”

Lucifer waved a hand, and Richard whimpered as his eyes reformed and his ears twitched.

“And see you.”

“Good. Listen to me,” Alastor said, voice flat and missing all the charisma and flamboyance and coaxing manipulation he usually used when he was making a deal. “We are going to make a deal. You are going to give up all your souls – all of them. Your money too, any properties, anything you own – give it away to people you see on the street outside for all I care, just get rid of it. And you’re going to make a deal with me to never own anyone else’s soul, never build up power, never become an overlord ever again. If you agree, you can live. If you don’t, I stop holding Lucifer back, and you can burn to death and Rosie and I can feast on your body and bring some remains back for the little ones. They’ve never had Overlord before.”

Killing him wasn’t enough. Alastor had killed Richard Hawthorn twice now, and it hadn’t made him feel better, so he needed to suffer.

And that meant he needed to live.

Physical pain was one thing, but suffering – real suffering, like the kind Alastor had genuinely been looking forward to at the hotel, for all he’d been there mostly to protect Charlie – that was mental and emotional, not physical. It was having all the power, all the control, and then losing it. It was scrabbling in bins for food and begging on street corners as people walked by without looking you in the eye.

Alastor wasn’t being as cruel as he could have been. He wasn’t, say, forbidding Richard from getting a job or earning any money by working with his own two hands. Largely because that would leave him homeless, and then he’d be dead from the next Extermination, and wouldn’t be suffering any more, but details!

And he might even learn something. Might even regret what he’d done to end up here in Hell if Hell was a place of suffering, rather then a second chance and a place where he could thrive.

“Do we have a deal?” Alastor asked, reaching out a hand.

He nudged Lucifer to let one of Richard’s arms free, and the man’s paw settled in his hand, the deal making magic fly around the room, Alastor’s green and Richard’s a deep orange.

With a sigh, Richard released his souls, deep orange chains appearing in his hand and then shattering.

“Well then!” said Lilith, clapping once and standing and drawing all attention to her.

“Since the Mafia Overlord is no longer a Sovereign Overlord, he is no longer necessary at this meeting. You can go now,” she told him idly, and Richard, beaten and destroyed, trudged out of the room, still regenerating form the damage – slower, now that he had only a sinner’s natural regeneration speed, rather than the boosted one from the additional power of his owned souls.

Alastor took a deep breath and drew the monster back under his skin, bones creaking as they twisted back to their normal shapes and stitches and deathmark disappearing. He looked around at the room, the bleached and peeling walls and broken table.

“You know, this meeting is a lot less boring than I thought it would be!”

Notes:

After that little exhibition, you'd think all the Overlords there would be smart enough to not mess with Lucifer or Alastor or Lilith, wouldn't you.
WOULDN'T YOU?!!!

Chapter 21

“It’s not over yet,” said Lilith dryly, and waved him back to his seat.

“Zestial, I apologise for your table, and the rest of the damage. Luci, be a dear and fix it?”

Lucifer clicked his fingers idly as he strolled back towards his seat, and in a wave of golden light all the damage was gone and the shattered mahogany table was replaced by white marble with golden veins.

As Alastor sat back down at his abandoned seat, he noticed that the veins were moving, forming images – snakes and apples, a duck swimming in a pond becoming a swanlike figure with six wings, a deer with branching antlers that roamed around a forest next to a small kid with familiar upright horns and a winged goat with a snake tail and a lioness with ram horns, suns and moons and stars…It was beautiful.

He hoped they kept the table for future Overlord meetings, when he was an Overlord and Carmilla ran them. He straightened up and folded his hands together on the table, smiling brightly with all his teeth as Lilith started the meeting again.

“Anyway, as I was saying – Alastor has created an Orphanage. With the help of a spell my husband made to let us know when sinners of a certain age fall to hell and gather them, we have been creating a home where they can live in Hell without being witness to, or falling prey to, some of its degradations. Needless to say, we also did our best to protect it from the Exterminations.”

That got a small rustle as the attending Overlords straightened, turned to their neighbours, shot glances at each other.

“As King and Queen of Hell, and Sins of Pride, we are forbidden from doing anything to protect sinners form Heaven, so we can’t put in any protections ourselves.” Lilith’s eyes pinched as she was reminded of the bindings she was under.

Charlie wasn’t bound by the contract Lucifer had signed – oh, she couldn’t go out during an Extermination and try to protect sinners or distract Exorcists, not that her parents would let her, but if she couldn’t fight back at all she wouldn’t have been able to defend the hotel when Adam attacked it. Part of it was probably that she was too young to sign the contract when Lucifer and Lilith had, part of it was that she wasn’t a Sin like they were though she was a Princess, and part of it was probably that Adam wasn’t coming for random sinners, he was coming for her, specifically, and her hotel that she had built and that was under her name, and he had said so in front of the whole court of Heaven and the High Seraphim, proving to Alastor when he’d heard that, that Heaven was as corrupt as he’d imagined, and also much stupider. He didn’t know what had happened to the other timeline when he’d died. Part of him was afraid that it had been wiped away entirely, but he preferred to imagine that it had continued on without him. He hoped Niffty had found a good owner, since she liked the security of having her soul owned – Charlie perhaps. Not Husker, with his soul free he might go back to his old ways and start gambling with souls again, but Charlie would be a good, gentle owner for Niffty. He hoped Rosie would prepare a lovely meal from his body, and that Charlie and the rest would listen to her when she explained that eating their bodies was how Cannibals honoured their dead, and bend themselves a little to partake of him. But regardless. None of that matted now. What mattered was the Orphanage.

(It was a good thing, creating this orphanage, providing protection to children like he’d seen in New Orleans, hungry eyed, skinny little dirty things that would steal and even kill to get a meal, and that had always reminded him of wild animals. He’d been fond of them, and occasionally given them meat he’d hunted, eating his other prey instead. Mimzy had called him an altruist when she’d found out and he’d dumped her cheap moonshine on her head and stalked out of the speakeasy with her laughter following him – and not just her either, all her girls! He’d refused to talk to them for a full week before Mimzy apologised, even as he knew she didn’t mean it, and he’d apologised for the silent treatment by letting them dress him up and putting him on stage, where he’d danced and sang and ended up with a bevy of gentlemen eyeing ‘Allie’ with their hearts in their eyes and their wallets open. The fact that he’d used some of the tips he’d gotten to by some candy for those street rats was of no importance, thank you. He didn’t like children!)

Lilith could, maybe, fudge things a bit to put up basic wards if she moved permanently into the orphanage, like there were wards on the Manor and the Palace, but she’d have to live there, and wouldn’t be able to fight if those wards were breached. And it would make the Orphanage an even bigger target.

“But you, as sinners, are not bound by that contract. Several of you have already helped, giving both protection and help building the Orphanage without my needing to call on you, and I appreciate it,” here, she nodded at Zestial and Rosie, who bowed back gravely and waved a hand as if to say ‘oh you’ respectively, “and I assure you, you will be rewarded for taking action before I needed to call on you.”

Alastor had his shadow on the wall behind him and his microphone beside him. Blinking slowly, he peered through their eyes, creating an odd scene in his head that made his brain ache a bit as he took in the world through their eyes. This allowed him to see how the other Overlords reacted without peering around and letting them know he was watching.

Dementus looked peeved at having missed a chance to get in good with the Queen, and was probably mentally deciding which spies he’d be wringing apologies out of. Silena and Scarecrow weren’t paying much attention to Lilith – they were eyeing Lucifer and…oh? And him? Interesting. Bethesda was nodding along to Lilith’s words, and Von Eldritch – Lucifer’s Freddy was trying to get Lucifer’s attention, and looking rather frazzled. Ha!

Evvand…

The rush of cold, murderous rage that filled him at the sight of the hidden delight and greed on the pedophile’s face made Von Eldritch shoot him a sharp glance, and Alastor opened his eyes.

“The rest of you…” Lilith continued. “Are being called on to help. You are Hell’s Sovereign Overlords, the most Powerful Sinners in Pride’s Nine Circles. You own Millions of Souls, have charge over vital aspects of Pride’s economy. This project is of the utmost importance, and I expect you to put your best in.”

Bethesda Von Eldritch spoke up. “Of course we’d be happy to help in whatever way we can Lily.”

Lilith smiled genuinely at her. “I had no doubt.”

Dementus was the one who spoke up next. “I’m not sure what I can do to help, I haven’t the skill in magic that Zestial and Mr and Mrs Von Eldritch have, but I’m happy to provide what I can.”

“Well, as I said, this was mainly Alastor’s project,” she turned to him and raised an eyebrow, and he flicked his ears at her letting her know she could continue. “I’m sure he can tell you what he needs.”

Alastor smiled at the gathered overlords, and waved his hands before clasping them around his microphone, hair falling in his face as he tilted his head to the side and eyed Dementus.

“You can provide quite a bit, actually!”

Alastor snapped his fingers and a group of papers manifested in eldritch green light out of the shadows in front of him. A wave of his hand and the papers were copied and before each overlord. “We’re not just focusing on defense, but also evasion. And of course we want to make sure the Orphanage has the proper facilities. A fully up to date kitchen, a playground in the yard – and secret passages. If you’ll look at the floor plans –”

Alastor had hoped the shield and Carmilla’s defenses would be enough, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t planned for if they weren’t. That being said, while he had skills in plumbing, in cooking, in being an electrician, all the things he’d put into use in being the facilities manager at the Hazbin Hotel, he didn’t have skills in everything, and while he could summon his minions to fix holes and problems, he didn’t actually know how to build his secondary plan for the children’s defense.

“I’ve put in plans for secret passages. We’ll add an alarm to the shield and other defenses we already have, and drill the children that when the alarm goes off they go to hide – can you imagine the Exorcists faces when they break in and find it empty!” Alastor laughed at the mental image. “The idea is that these passages will either lead to secondary shelters, bunkers the children can hide in, or to a secondary location they can shelter in. The issue, of course, is that if the passages are found, those bunkers have no other way out, and if they go somewhere else – well, the Exorcist’s will be attacking everywhere.”

Dementus was leafing through the papers, nodding slowly.

Dementus had the largest number of other overlords under him – banking overlords, gambling overlords who, like Husker and the many, many other gambling overlords throughout history, had discovered that becoming powerful on a vice like a gambling addiction was just asking for a losing streak to ruin you and had gone to him for help in exchange for their souls, people who owned restaurants, business owners, landlords…Having such a large number of people that didn’t fit one particular skill set or methodology meant he had the broadest pool of skills to pick from.

“If you can provide someone skilled and knowledgeable in architecture to design these passages and either hiding places or ways elsewhere – or both – that would be of great help!” Alastor said, smiling with all his teeth at Dementus.

He’d even leave him alive while he was doing it, to ensure the orphanage got the best care possible.

“And that’s not mentioning the staff! Some of them are parents of other children, but with how many children there are we need plenty, and ones with skills. It’s been a bit difficult to find good teachers, for instance, most of the ones down here are here for child abuse, we want cooks, cleaners, people who will look after the kids – and we need to plan for expansion. Children aren’t going to stop coming to hell, and while we have room right now we will need to expand – if we are successful in stopping them from all being murdered, at least!” Alastor laughed gaily.

“Contractors...yes, I can do that,” Dementus said, cupping his chin with one hand and quite obviously mentally going through his owned souls for who would be best for these tasks.

“I can provide people as well!” interrupted the Preacher, voice higher-pitched then you’d think a man his size would have, looking desperately self important. Perhaps some of his people could be useful, but since they were the type to believe in ‘sparing the rod spoiling the child’ and so it was alright to beat them to death, or that a child being gay was enough to kick them out, Alastor would be doing the background check on them very thoroughly.

“Also, I feel it would be best if the staff, as vital as they are to running of the hotel, know that they are not to shelter in there during Extermination time,” Alastor said, still smiling but serious. “This will be a very protected place, and people might try and get a position there simply to shelter form Exterminations. We can pay them, and make sure they have a place to shelter when the time comes – but not in the Orphanage.”

“I mean, if we’re talking staff, I’m sure I have some souls who would be able to help,” interrupted Evvand, steepling his fingers before his face and smiling at Alastor. “And if it’s secondary locations for the kiddies to run to, I’m happy to offer my studios – or even my mansion! I assure you, it’s very secure.”

Alastor smiled and smiled and stared blankly at him and wrestled down the urge to rip his throat out with his teeth.

Lilith stood. Her hair started to move, writhing around her feet with agitation, much like Charlie’s hair did when she transformed.

“You had to do it, didn’t you?” she asked softly, slowly, and Alastor settled, monster knowing that it was about to be fed, even if not by him.

“I don’t normally get involved in Hellborn matters. That’s Lucifer’s job, whereas I focus on the sinners as the Sin of Pride, and interfering in another Sin’s ring just causes so many problems, like Mammon throwing lawyers everywhere,” she said silkly, a dangerous smile on her darkly painted lips. “And I wouldn’t want to step on Satan’s toes.”

Lucifer had been keeping a pretty straight face, but at that Alastor caught his lips twitch, and Alastor was willing to bet she had absolutely already stepped on Satan’s toes, multiple times over, wearing stiletto heels to make sure it hurt.

“So I was willing to let it go, even once I had hard evidence of it – but you just failed the test, Evvand.”

The Overlord of Movies was starting to sweat, wondering if she knew, certain she couldn’t, but what if…

Alastor smiled and sat back and enjoyed watching a master work. Watching Lilith put the screws in with delicate precision.

“If you’d offered protection, or workers, or magic, I would have let it go,” she lied, putting the book on the table with a heavy slam that echoed with the finality of a coffin closing.

Or a trap snapping shut.

Alastor smiled as he watched Evvand recognise the evidence he’d created with his own two hands.

He’d never understood that need some serial killers had to keep trophies – and not even just serial killers, there were adulterers who kept lover's letters, embezzlers who kept receipts. Alastor had never bothered. Any parts he’d kept he’d eaten, and most of his bodies had been dumped in the bayou, fed to Alligators, tossed in the trash…It had helped keep him from being caught – at least, until he’d gotten drunk at the removal of Prohibition, had to deal with a handsy asshole who wouldn’t take no for an answer, and decided to bury him in the deer hunting ground because it was closest. It was the one murder where he hadn’t been prepared, hadn’t stalked and hunted his prey, and it had cost him his life.

Lucifer leaned over to have a look at the book.

“You don’t want to do that, Sire,” Alastor warned quietly.

Next to Lucifer, Von Eldritch raised a mocking eyebrow at him and leaned over and flipped the book open himself.

His dark green skin promptly turned an interesting grey-ish colour as he turned one page, then another, then slammed the book shut and started to glare over at Evvand. “Don’t look, Luci,” he agreed.

Lucifer just shot them both a wry look. “You two do know I’ve seen pretty much everything sinners can do to each other or hellborn already, right? There’s a reason I locked them away from the other rings.”

“Don’t look, angel,” said Lilith quietly, as she raised a hand with violet light sparking around it and snapped her fingers.

A portal of whirling violet light opened up beneath Evvand’s chair, and when he tried to run thin threads of violet light wrapped around him.

Alastor’s shadow, equally as curious, darted over and leaned in close, and sent him the image of what the threads were made of – thorns. Tiny, interlocking thorns, thousands of them making mini chains that bit and dug into the flesh and the magic that bound up their demonic forms, preventing magic use.

It was incredibly impressive, not in the same manner as Lucifer’s overwhelming power but in the manner it must have taken Lilith ages, years and years, centuries and millenia, to make these chains, forming each tiny thorn one by one and linking them together. It was a masterwork in precision, in patience, in attention to detail, and a reminder that while the First Woman may not have the sheer strength of her husband, she was Queen of Hell for a reason.

Slowly, Evvand was drawn into the portal, presumably to be deposited in a dungeon somewhere to be tortured and tried and given to the families of his victims.

Hmm. Perhaps Lilith would let Alastor have a few goes too – he could show her how skilled he was with a flaying knife, make her some new boots and maybe a handbag, and take some prime cuts over to Cannibal Town. There was a delicious irony in feeding bits of a pedophile to children who he had been attempting to victimise, and the stronger a person the more filling the meal.

When the purple portal closed, Zestial cleared his throat.

“Whilst I hath already been providing aid to Alastor’s most worthy endeavour, I shalt of course continue to do so,” he intoned. “I hath been both teaching and learning from him as we made arcane protections, and I must admit, I was most impressed that the shield doth last even one blow against thine true power, my Queen.”

He bowed his head to Alastor in genuine respect, and the damn tail tried to wag as Alastor preened.

“Well, that’s quite a compliment, especially from one as ancient and learned as you, Zestial!” he said.

For some reason, Lucifer was frowning at Zestial, almost pouting.

“I will continue as well,” said Carmilla seriously. “For one thing, I’ll offer a few warehouses I own as secondary locations for the passages to lead to. Also – I have been attempting to figure out ways to manipulate Angelic Steel, and Alastor suggested you may be of help there.”

That got the attention of every other Overlord in the room. It must have been like being the focus of a group of wild animals, red eyes shining out of the darkness as you realised you were surrounded, sending a chill down your spine as your hindbrain started to scream and panic – but Carmilla simply raised her chin and continued with all the poise that had made her the leader of the Overlords once, and would do so again.

“I was thinking, if you are amenable, we could use Angelic Steel in the defences. Line the walls with it, use it for the shutters that will come down over the windows and doors – It may help prevent them from breaking through.”

Ooh, that was clever. It would also, once she’d fully figured out how to change the shape of angelic steel, add a new market for her.

“I – yeah, I’m amenable!” Lucifer said, straightening up and shooting Alastor a look. “I can help you out, snap up as much angelic steel as you want! Just the basic stuff though,” he said, suddenly serious. “The stuff that’s in the exorcist’s weapons. The more powerful stuff, that’s in Seraphim weapons, is way to powerful and dangerous for me to let anyone else have any of it. You could mess up and accidentally wipe out Hell, so…”

That made even Carmilla blink. “We would not want to wipe out Hell, no,” she said dryly.

Lilith chuckled a little, and then turned to Silena and Scarecrow. Scarecrow was sitting forward on his arms on the table, while Silena was leaned back in her chair, examining her painted claws.

“And you two?”

“We don’t have an expertise in any of the things you mentioned. The most we would be able to provide is money, or unskilled labour –”

“And that’s if we decide to help at all,” hissed Silena straightening up now and sending her husband and partner subsiding back into his chair.

Silena was the one in charge, the one who made decisions, the one who ruled over her husband, but her whole business relied on him and his wares, which was why when he’d gone after them last time, he’d cornered Scarecrow first. Under the hood his mouth was morphed into an odd gasmask-like shape, with ridges, and it had made his screams wonderful.

“Do you have any idea how much money we’ve lost since you put in that stupid clinic!” Silena snapped, glaring at Lucifer who raised a dismissive eyebrow back at her.

“Who are you again?” he asked.

Silena bared her sharp teeth. “You can mock me all you like, little king, but I know the truth. We couldn’t figure out why you’d come back so suddenly and start interfering in Pride, and why you’d target us when you did so, but I’ve figured it out!”

She whirled and pointed one long finger at Alastor, who raised his eyebrows in false surprised innocence.

“It was his idea, wasn’t it! You were so cunt-struck you made the clinic because he suggested it, just like you healed the cannibals because they’re his friends. Your little boytoy is too soft for hell, a little prey-type deer that’s probably here for sleeping with a married man for money, and you’re kneeling at his feet and giving him everything he wants!”

Alastor took all that in. Setting aside the fact that she apparently thought Lucifer was his – what, his sugar daddy? – which was so patently false and stupid it didn’t even need a response, and the scorn for prostitutes that made the boy who’d been raised in the French Quarter fume…hadn’t she just seen why he was here? She’d heard Richard mention he’d shot him, hadn’t she?

“You…have been paying attention to the rest of this meeting, haven’t you?” he asked, half mocking and half genuinely curious. “Putting aside the fact that I’ve never slept with a married person in my life, and there is nothing wrong with sex for money – I shot my father. I’m here for murder.”

“Also, cannibalism,” he added, nodding to Rosie who smiled back with her sharp teeth all exposed.

“Wait, seriously?” asked Lucifer suddenly, giving Alastor all his attention. Alastor blinked at him.

“Yes? You were here too?”

“Not the murder thing – the cannibalism.”

Alastor opened his mouth, then closed it, honestly baffled and speechless for perhaps the first time in this new timeline.

“Ye-es?” he answered, not sure where this was coming from. “I – you have literally seen me eat human flesh?” Well, sinner flesh. Same thing.

Lucifer waved that off, leaning further over the table. Alastor noticed, idly, out of the corner of his eye, that on the table a giant winged snake had curled up around the surprisingly unperturbed deer and was grooming it frantically.

“Yeah, but you started that after you got to Hell, right?” he asked, seeming almost frantic. “After you befriended Rosie and the cannibals.”

“I befriended Rosie because I am a cannibal.”

Lucifer laughed anxiously, high pitched, and Alastor had no idea what was happening right now.

“Buuuuuut that would mean you are cursed with eternal hunger, right? And you’re not, right?” His right eye was twitching as badly as when Alastor had hijacked and won his song.

“Once you get used to it, eternal hunger isn’t actually that bad?” he offered, not sure why he wanted to get that look off his face but wanting it nonetheless. “Some of the littler ones have no actual memories of ever being full, so it doesn’t bother them at all, and I’m quite used to it! Once you make sure you have a schedule for eating so you don’t accidentally starve to death –”

“Alastor, please stop,” interrupted Lilith, also looking rather wild eyed. “Just – just stop.”

Thoroughly baffled now, Alastor sat back and looked over at the Overlords.

“So you’re both cunt-struck,” sneered Silena, looking rather put out at having been abruptly forgotten and out staged. “All the better – means there won’t be any arguments. See, way I figure it, is you care more about this project for the little kiddies then you do about some stupid druggies,” she said to Alastor, ignoring the King and Queen. Alastor cocked his head to the side and grinned at her, wanting to see where she was going with this.

“So, if you want our help for your little orphanage, you convince daddy over there to shut down the clinic.”

“Hmmm, no, no I don’t think so,” Alastor replied, having fun.

Selina apparently wasn’t expecting a ‘pretty little prey-type demon’ to say no to her because she gaped at him, finned ears fluttering in shock, before she quickly grew angry.

On the wall behind him, his shadow giggled, and Alastor grinned wider, setting his elbows on the table and his chin on his hands as she glared down at him. Before he could taunt her more, maybe convince her to try and attack him, Lucifer spoke up.

“Geeze,” he sighed. “I know this is my fault, for being absent for so long, but you people really have forgotten yourselves, haven’t you? I’m the King. And it’s not because I was born to a King, or even because I won it in battle. I am King because I created Hell, and my Father,” and here he spoke a name and Alastor shuddered along with everyone else in the room who heard it, feeling the echoes rippling deep down in his owned soul and even, for a moment, loosening the grip the roots had on before they came back with a vengeance, “gave my dominion over it when I Fell.”

He paused a moment, and his eyes grew distant. “I think maybe he thought it was a gift. But regardless,” he continued, glaring at them, his presence filling the room. “You’ve all forgotten one small fact. You are living in my house. You continue to exist because I allow it. You are permitted to gain souls and power and call yourselves rulers because Lilith thought it was a good idea and I honestly couldn’t be bothered to stop you. I wouldn’t have thought you Overlords would need a refresher after what happened to Alastor’s dickbag father just then, but apparently you do.”

Zestial spoke up then, bowing his head. “My liege, if I may – Carmilla is not an overlord. Please allow her to accompany Alastor hence.”

Alastor had never heard the proud, ancient Overlord so close to begging, and apparently neither had Carmilla from the shocked look she sent him.

Lucifer looked at Zestial, then at Carmilla, with old, cold eyes, then waved a hand casually. “Yeah, you can leave. You’ve been helping with the Orphanage yeah? Keep up the good work.”

Carmilla took that as the dismissal it was, and stood.

Together they left the room, feeling the air heavy and tense like just before a storm.

There was silence, a deep, unnatural silence like a forest going quiet as the animals sensed an apex predator moving among them. A dragon, perhaps. Or a winged snake, or a chimera.

Alastor hoped Rosie was alright.

“Well, that was a productive meeting!” he said, clapping his hands and smiling at Carmilla, if a little stiffly. “I’ll contact you about the angelic steel defenses once Lucifer gets back.”

Carmilla nodded, and left, hurrying towards where her daughters were.

Alastor left and headed for Charlie.

He’d been intending to teach her to play piano for a while now, and he rather thought her parents might be occupied for a while.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Haven't Been the Same Since I Expired