As Below So Above

by Unpopulart

Summary:

What could possibly go wrong when you mix a bottle of tequila with a séance? Samantha, a perfectly normal human girl, is about to find out the hard way, awakening forces that seemed to have been dormant for centuries.

FROM THE TEXT:

The words of the song made her shiver even more, and she found herself with the mug in mid-air, trembling, her body racked by a thousand chills. (...) The apartment's only window suddenly seemed to have gone dark, as if something was standing in front of it, but she still didn't have the courage to turn. (...) The figure of what at first glance appeared to be a man loomed behind her, its height covering almost the entire window and surpassing her by at least fifteen centimeters. The first thing she saw was a dazzling smile on a pale face with a row of sharp, almost yellowed teeth (...)

"Good morning. I am Alastor, the Radio Demon, and I am here to answer your call," the voice was strange, as if it came from a distorted microphone. "What pact do you wish to propose to me, ma belle?"

Chapter 1: Take what you want

Samantha woke with a start, her head throbbing and a wave of nausea rolling in her stomach. She barely made it to the bathroom of her apartment before throwing up all the alcohol she'd so recklessly and unapologetically downed the night before.
As usual, she'd overdone it, although this time she felt her current relationship status excused her. Her no-longer-boyfriend—or as normal people call him, her ex—had cheated on her so much she could barely walk through her front door, and she'd gone on a bender unlike anything she'd done in years, with her ever-present best friend Alice by her side.
She flushed the toilet and looked at the combination bedroom/kitchen, realizing it was in a terrible state—but no worse than her. Shoes from the night before were scattered across the floor, along with the paper cups they had filled with tequila and... what the hell was that?
She picked up the piece of cardboard and flipped it over, and when she realized what it was, she wanted to bash her head against a wall. In a fit of drunken mischief, they had decided to cast a curse on her ex, and to do so, they had decided to summon a demon. Alice's words still echoed in her head: "It'll be fun! Just imagine a demon with a pitchfork poking his jewels until they fall off."
She flopped back onto the bed, staring at the makeshift ouija board they had fashioned from an old pizza box and coloured with a red crayon. Nothing had happened, no response from the world of the dead or demons, whatever you wanted to call them. It was a stupid thing they'd done because they had time to kill and too many drinks to get rid of.
She tossed the cardboard aside and sat up, turning on the radio—an antique she just couldn't bring herself to throw away—and tuning it to one of her favourite stations. After a few seconds, Ozzy Osbourne's voice boomed through the room, filling it with the notes of a song that had been obsessing her lately.
 
I feel you crumble in my arms down to your heart of stone
You bled me dry just like the tears you never show
Why don't you take what you want from me?
 
She decided to wash her face and brush her teeth and reply to her friend's message. Realizing the terrible state her long, dark hair was in, she pulled it into a messy bun before aimlessly wandering around the room, bored. The old radio began to emit strange vibrations, as if it were losing the signal. She approached the nightstand it was on and began to hit it with her hand—the age-old, perfect method for making things work or breaking them for good—but it didn't respond. In fact, the song seemed to start over and repeat one of the verses several times, like a skipping record.
 
Take what you need from me
Take what you want and go
Take what you need from me
Take what you want and go
 
She gave up trying to fix it and grabbed a clean pyjama from her small wooden closet, then turned on the coffee maker as the radio continued its relentless interference.
A shiver down her spine sparked a fierce doubt.
What if she really had managed to summon something from the other side and now that something was trying to communicate with her?
 
For Heaven's sakes, my bones will break
But you never own my soul, no
 
The words of the song made her shiver even more, and she found herself with the mug in mid-air, trembling, her body racked by a thousand chills. The two singers seemed to have involuntarily answered her question, and she was so terrified she couldn't even turn around to look. Her eyes were fixed on the hideous green tiles of her rented apartment, which covered almost the entire room, and she felt her heart pounding in her ears like crazy. The apartment's only window suddenly seemed to have gone dark, as if something was standing in front of it, but she still didn't have the courage to turn.
 
You showed your tongue and it was forked in two
Your venom was lethal, I almost believed you
Yeah, you preyed on my every mistake
 
The song's verses repeated, disjointed and out of order, and those guitar solos she loved so much were becoming more and more terrifying. She looked toward the front door, which had never seemed so far away. Should she run? But from what? She still hadn't turned around.
A strange shadow suddenly seemed to be cast from behind her. A tall figure with strange tufts on the top of its head, and she tried with all her might to convince herself it was a hallucination.
It couldn't be real.
 
You bled me dry just like the tears you never show
Why don't you take what you want from me?
 
Why had she been so stupid as to hold a séance? With no experience! Now she would become one of those girls from urban legends who die in agony. But what was happening wasn't a hallucination; it was real as hell! She felt the breath of something on her shoulders, an unfamiliar presence in a house she thought she knew like the back of her hand, but which was now terrifyingly dark.
She summoned all the courage she had and, with an unreal calmness, turned around.
 
Take what you need from me
Take what you want and go
 
The figure of what at first glance appeared to be a man loomed behind her, its height covering almost the entire window and surpassing her by at least fifteen centimetres. The first thing she saw was a dazzling smile on a pale face with a row of sharp, almost yellowed teeth. The second thing was two blood-red eyes staring at her with black irises fixed on hers. The presence's breath filled the air with a bestial stench that immediately seized her throat.
Whoever he was, was dressed in a very strange way, and she chided herself for noticing something so idiotic in such a dangerous moment. What was she going to do? Knock him out by insulting his fashion sense? Unlikely and stupid. So why was she standing there like a poor idiot, not moving a single step? Why weren't her legs responding to that spectral vision and heading for the door to scream in the apartment hallways? Her throat was also too dry to utter a sound, and she found herself trembling to the point that many drops of the coffee she was holding in the mug began to spill onto the floor and her clean pyjamas.
The figure tilted its head to the side, as if surprised by her fear. What the hell was this individual surprised about? Had he ever looked in a mirror?
Samantha tried to back up slightly but bumped into the metal of the kitchen cabinet, and her step backward caused the figure to take one closer to her, the ticking of its shoes on the floor echoing in the deafening silence, interrupted only by the song repeating some of its verses.
 
Why don't you take what you want from me?
Take what you need from me
Take what you want and go
 
The figure continued to smile as if it were impossible to stop, but his eyes somehow furrowed into an almost perplexed expression, and finally, after endless seconds, he spoke.
"Good morning, ma chérie. I am Alastor, the Radio Demon, and I am here to answer your call," the voice was strange, as if it came from a distorted microphone. "What pact do you wish to propose to me, ma belle?"
At that point, Samantha's heart seemed to stop beating, and the mug fell to the floor, followed by the last verses of the song.
 
Why don't you take what you want, take what you need
Take what you need from me, yeah

Chapter 2: Bad Feelings

Samantha heard the teacup shatter on the light-colored floor, and in that exact moment, the song ended, giving way to the voice of the radio host. As if finally reanimated from a spell that had kept her from moving and speaking, she began to scream, scrambling up the cabinet like a spider.
The radio demon, as he had called himself, continued to watch her with that unsettling smile and his head cocked to the side, as if he genuinely didn't understand her reaction.
In a state of utter delirium, she crossed her fingers in front of her to form a cross and started rattling off every prayer she had been forced to learn in catechism.
"Vade retro, Satan!" she whimpered, while risking a fall from the cabinet to put as much distance as possible between herself and the red demon in front of her.
He shook his head, clicking his tongue against his palate in disapproval.
"But ma belle, this is no way to treat a guest. After all, it was you who summoned me into this home," he began, gracefully taking a seat on the apartment's only chair and crossing his legs, a cane resting in his hand. "Etiquette would dictate a much more fitting reception for the occasion."
With those words, he snapped his fingers and the cup that had shattered on the floor reassembled itself and flew into the sink, under Samantha's shocked and terrified eyes. She felt a wave of panic, as if she couldn't form a single coherent thought.
In a frenzy, she threw herself off the metal shelf and ran towards the bathroom, slamming the door shut and turning the key, then sliding down the door to sit on the floor with her knees pressed to her chest.
She had actually summoned a demon.
He was in her room sipping coffee.
He said his name was Alastor.
Okay, nothing was fucking okay!
 
Everything's perfect here, and the sun is shining
Everything's perfect here, there's nobody crying
 
The radio had started up again, playing that pop song that seemed completely out of place in that situation, even if the title Bad Feelings seemed perfect for the demon sitting so comfortably in her goddamn plastic chair.
She clutched her head in her hands, trying to steady her breathing while her heart hammered against her temples like a madman. It had to be a dream. A real demon would have already killed her or at least scared her to death.
Because you're having a blast so far, aren't you? an annoying little voice squeaked in her head, forcing her to stand on trembling legs and look in the mirror. Her black eyes were wide open and the dark circles under them seemed even more pronounced. She was terribly pale; even her usually pink lips were a greyish colour.
She splashed cold water on her face and tried to muster up the courage to go out. There couldn't really be a demon in her room; it was completely absurd. It had to be the remnants of her hangover playing a nasty trick on her, or she was truly on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and her brain was sending her clear signals that she needed psychiatric therapy.
Her hand trembled as she rested it on the bathroom doorknob. She unlocked it, taking a deep breath before poking her nose out.
When she saw the figure still comfortably seated at the table reading one of her university textbooks, she thought she truly needed a psychiatric hold.
A demon.
A demon reading in my living room.
A demon reading marketing books in my living room.
A demon reading marketing books in my living room who will soon kill me.
"AAAAAAAH!"
Another scream tore from her throat and probably from the demon's eardrums as well, since the strange appendages on his head began to vibrate as if annoyed, bringing his blood-red eyes back to her, that cursed smile always plastered on his lips.
She lunged towards the exit door, but it seemed to be blocked. She pulled with all her might, but only then did she realize that a strange shadow, very similar to the demon in front of her, was holding it still with a hand.
"Shit!" she yelled, letting go of the handle and falling hard on her butt.
The demon stood up, his walking stick tapping on the wooden floor as he approached her with a cheerful air.
"Well, are we done with the screaming?" he asked, still with that strange voice. "We wouldn't want to wake up the neighbours in such a vulgar manner."
Only then did Samantha realize he was extending a hand to help her up. A gloved hand with formidable claws capable of tearing her body to shreds with a single slash.
 
Oompa Loompa, doompa-de-doo
I got a bad feeling 'bout you
 
Resigned to the fact that she was trapped, she took his hand. Feeling it in her own, she realized that everything was sickeningly real. That demon was really in her house, he was really speaking to her cheerfully, and his breath truly stank of carrion.
Still trembling, she allowed herself to be led to her seat, while he made a second chair appear with a snap of his fingers. He elegantly sat on it, pushing the jacket behind his back so as not to sit on it.
By now, she had reached such a level of acceptance of the absurd that she didn't even dare to move. She had made the omelette, and she had to eat it, shells and all. Whatever entity was in front of her wouldn't leave so easily, and she at least had to understand his intentions.
"So..." she stammered, her throat dry and her voice hoarse. "You're... a demon?"
"An Overlord to be precise, ma belle," he began, proudly pointing to his chest. "I don't expect a human to know demonic hierarchies, but I love to make my high-ranking position clear."
Samantha swallowed the lump in her throat. "Okay... so... like Lucifer? I mean, a major demon?"
The eyes of the demon in front of her seemed to flare with anger for a second before becoming calm again. "I would ask you not to compare us. I won't stay here to explain why, but I do not like it."
She held up her hands, gesturing innocently. "Oh, no, I didn't mean to offend, it's just... what the hell is going on?"
 
Carnivores and cannibals,
I want it on demand-able
Mandible, jaw split, hit me with the gossip, gossip
(Are you fucking serious?)
 
Alastor shook his head and pressed his clawed fingers to his forehead. "Ma chérie, we are really missing the basics here! And yet, it was you who summoned me last night and then passed out like a rock. Speaking of which, may I call you by your first name? At this point, it seems only proper."
She nodded, perplexed. She didn't remember anything spectacular happening the night before, otherwise Alice would have already texted her something or she would have run away much earlier that morning.
"Parfait, my dear Samantha," he continued, leaning more comfortably against the back of the chair. "The fact is that you summoned a demon, and I answered the call. Normally, some other damned soul would have responded, but I had, shall we say, a greater interest in leaving my usual abode for a few days, so I skipped the line."
Samantha couldn't make sense of the sentences he was calmly letting flow from his lips as if he were explaining a simple cooking recipe. The trembling in her body had stopped, but her brain seemed to be emitting a buzz comparable to a flatline. In short, the lights were on, but nobody was home.
She tried to shake herself out of it and began to wring her hands. "I understand, I understand," she began. "But it's not clear to me why I'm still alive."
Stupid, imbecile, idiot, is this really the time to beg him to kill you? that annoying little voice in her head screamed again.
The demon's smile widened so much that she thought he would tear his mouth from the strain, while his eyes began to glow intensely.
"What would be the point?" he replied calmly. "It's still not clear to me why you called me, and the pact hasn't been made. Once I have fulfilled my duty, I will take your soul as a pledge, and you will be forced to serve me for eternity."
At that point, her heart seemed to stop beating, especially when she distinctly saw the demon's shadow grow larger and almost shake with silent laughter. Sweat beaded on her forehead as her brain worked through all possible escape routes from this situation, just like Doctor Strange in Infinity War.
"So... if I don't ask you for anything... will you leave?" she asked hesitantly.
The shadow seemed to freeze from laughter, and Alastor's smile suddenly became less wide, as if he had been caught off guard. This demon had probably never considered the possibility of leaving empty-handed, especially since, luckily, she hadn't asked him for anything yet.
Holy tequila that knocked me out before I could do anything stupid, she thought, mentally patting herself on the back. For once, her alcoholism had saved her.
 
Oompa Loompa, I don't know, dude
I got a bad feeling 'bout you
Bad feeling, bad feeling
 
The demon closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if trying to calm himself. The shadow behind him returned to a reasonable size, while he nervously played with the cane he held between his thin, pointed fingers.
"Ma belle, it's not polite to inconvenience an Overlord and then ask for nothing," he began, standing up and ending up just a few inches from her face. "You don't want to piss off the Radio Demon."
She didn't know why her brain reacted that way, but when she heard Radio Demon, her head went completely haywire and she started laughing like a maniac, perhaps thanks to the imminent nervous breakdown she was surely having.
The little voice in her head begged her to stop before she got herself killed, but she just couldn't. The thought of a radio demon made her imagine an angry talking radio that would attack iPods, its mortal enemies, and destroy them one by one. Her mind must have truly cracked to imagine a scene as crazy as that.
For some reason, the demon began to laugh hysterically with her, and they found themselves staring at each other with wild eyes, tears of hilarity streaming down their now-watery faces.
"No, but seriously, you fucking idiot, you'd better make a decision."
That phrase was punctuated by a sudden change in his appearance. The horns on his head, which she had only just noticed, began to grow, and his teeth became sharper, while his neck elongated wildly, getting closer to her as if to strangle her. Behind him, strange dark tentacles began to emerge from his back and move menacingly towards her.
She immediately stopped laughing, swallowing the huge lump of saliva that was stuck in her throat and refused to go down.
"It's just... I wouldn't know what to ask for," she whispered.
The demon then looked bewildered and tilted his long neck to the side, so much so that she thought it would snap off under the weight of his head and horns.
"Merde," he said, before suddenly returning to his normal appearance.
The air, charged with static electricity, seemed to have suddenly calmed, and Samantha was finally able to breathe again. This demon with his split personality was scaring her, but in some crazy way, he was also amusing her. A trip to the nearest hospital's psychiatric ward probably wouldn't hurt her at all.
"I suppose I'll stay here and wait to understand what you want, I'm not in a hurry," he said, picking up the book he had abandoned on the table and resuming reading. "So, this is what's fashionable to study these days? I should get one for Charlie for her hotel."
Samantha wanted to ask what kind of hotel could be found in Hell, but her attention was all on the words "I'll stay here" and "I'm not in a hurry." Did that mean she would have to carry him around like Ryuk with Light Yagami? No, that was out of the question! Besides, were others really able to see him? Or was she the only crazy person who could see a demon dressed in red with deer antlers? She noted with perplexity that the demon's ears seemed to be one with his hair, to the point that she couldn't tell where one began and the other ended. A morbid desire to touch them stirred in her chest, but she immediately pushed it back. She was already risking a lot just by sitting there motionless like a statue of salt.
"Um... excuse me... Radio Demon," she tried to say the title without bursting into laughter again, but he interrupted her.
"Call me Alastor, chérie," he replied, without taking his eyes off the book and adjusting his monocle on his nose.
"Okay, Alastor," she resumed with anxiety and a hint of nervousness. "I have a lot of things to do, and I don't think it would be possible for me to carry a demon around in my daily life, and you're surely used to luxury; this house isn't for you," she tried to say without him looking at her. "So maybe you should go back to your usual abode, and we can catch up next time? Maybe after the next tequila?"
Mental note, never again tequila, she thought, breathlessly awaiting an answer.
The demon shook his head, clicking his tongue against his palate again. "Ma belle, I'm not in a hurry, and besides, there's a rather unpleasant situation going on at my place right now, which I am very happy to get away from. Therefore, enjoy my precious company before we seal our pact and see each other again the day of your death."
At that point, she let her head fall onto the table, utterly defeated and bitter, eliciting a guttural chuckle from the demon who was finally looking at her again.
"And you think you'll just follow me around all day? You don't exactly go unnoticed," she spat out, exasperated. Her brain had now accepted all this absurdity to the point that she was asking questions as if everything were normal. Adaptation was a mechanism she had developed throughout her existence, which was full of terrible experiences. Therefore, she wasn't even all that surprised by her own composed reactions.
The demon smiled again in that creepy way, before suddenly disappearing in front of her eyes, making her wonder if he had ever really been there at all.
Only when she felt something pinch her ankle, she forced herself to look down and saw her own shadow, which had something strange. It was moving without following her body's movements, and it had pinched her.
"Ma belle, I can hide very well."
She had only one word to describe her current state: FUCKED.
 
Bad feeling, bad feeling (ay, ay, ay)
I got a bad feeling 'bout you It's true

Chapter 3: Bones

Samantha walked towards the university with her backpack on her shoulders, casting furtive glances at her shadow, which looked completely normal, to the point of making her think she had imagined everything.
A strange buzzing in the Bluetooth headphones she was wearing brought her back to her senses, making her realize that a familiar little voice was amusing itself by interrupting her playlist to put on what he most enjoyed.
"Can't I at least listen to what I want?" she muttered under her breath, hoping people would think she was on the phone.
A falsetto giggle almost drilled into her ears. "It's not my fault you have questionable taste."
 
Hello, it’s nice to meet you,
Can you tell me where I am?
 
She had never heard that song before, and she didn't even recognize the singer. A doubt crossed her mind as the music continued, leading her to wonder if that voice wasn't the same as the demon who enjoyed interrupting her favourite songs.
"It's rather conceited of you to play a song sung by yourself and call my taste questionable."
She was so psychologically tired that she no longer had any qualms about teasing him. Of course, her life was still on the line, but if she didn't behave that way, she would risk psychiatric hospitalization, which would be like a death sentence. The game was somehow worth the candle, and the demon seemed to enjoy their banter.
"Ma belle, I simply want to introduce you to real music," he replied.
 
Hey! Sorry, but you just got in my way
I promise, honey, I can feel your pain
And maybe I enjoy it just a little bit
Does that make me insane?
 
"Yes, it's not nice to rejoice in the misfortunes of others," she muttered, hearing that verse of the song, as she hugged her arms to her chest, thinking about the absurd situation. She found herself with a demon cheerfully strolling in her shadow and, not content with that, singing terrifying yet extremely catchy phrases into her ears. While waiting for the bus, she found herself tapping her foot to the rhythm of the song, and the demon's laugh roused her again.
" Parfait, I see you're starting to appreciate it."
"Stop it!" she snapped, making a poor elderly woman on the bench jump, who gave her a dirty look.
She put on a mortified expression and pointed to the headphones in her ears, hoping the woman would understand she was on the phone. The woman turned away, muttering incoherent words, and Samantha leaned her back against the wall, trying to compose herself.
"You should smile more, my dear, you would give a better impression."
She moved her lips to mimic him silently, but she felt a pinch on her back, and when she turned around, her shadow was laughing with amusement. She wanted to send him back to Hell where he came from again, but a little scream from the lady sitting on the bench startled her. The poor woman had clearly seen the shadow move and was now shaking like a leaf. Not content with already having risked giving her a heart attack, Alastor stretched Samantha's shadow towards the woman menacingly, who at that point ran away as fast as her legs could carry her despite her age.
She didn't know whether to laugh or cry at that scene. If that stranger also saw what she saw, it meant she wasn't crazy; it was all true.
 
Haven't been the same since I expired
Doesn't mean that I plan to retire
And now I have the power to bathe all of you in entertaining fire
 
The song kept playing in her ears on repeat, even as she got on the bus. Her shadow seemed to look around curiously, as if everything it saw was new.
"Have you not been on Earth for a long time?" she asked quietly, helped by the fact that the bus was half-empty.
"Since the day of my demise, to be precise, but those are details irrelevant to our partnership."
She felt her heart skip a beat. "So... you were human too?"
"As I said, irrelevant details. My past is none of your concern, just as my future is not. Only trust in the present we spend together."
She wished she could see his expression at that moment, but he obviously remained hidden, and for that, she was partially grateful. They would risk a lynching if he materialized in his demonic form in front of everyone; the reaction of the poor lady who was probably still running at that moment was enough.
She got off at her stop, but just when she thought her day couldn't get any worse, fate intervened. In her haste to get there, she had bumped into someone, and when she looked up, she realized it was the very person who had prompted her to summon that annoying demon who kept singing in her ears.
"Sam? I thought you weren't supposed to come to class today," he asked, as astonished as she was.
A mix of negative emotions hit her full force upon seeing Chris's face. He was impeccable as always, his leather jacket outlining his broad shoulders and his blonde hair slightly slicked back. His green eyes stared at her, bewildered, and she felt the terrible urge to punch him on that perfect, upturned nose.
"I study here," she spat out angrily. "And I don't have to account for where I go to you, you stupid asshole!"
She didn't know if that outburst came from two weeks of repressed hatred or from the demon who had been residing in her shadow for an hour now, but she needed to shout, vent, and let go of the frustration that was permeating her limbs.
The blonde boy straightened up, looking at her with annoyance. "Look, things weren't working out between us, and you know it."
She felt anger pressing on her chest, along with tears of rage stinging her eyes, trying to get out. "Oh, and the solution was to sleep with half the university? Besides, you're such a poor prick; you slept with half my class, the one I go to every day! How did you think you were going to hide it, evil genius? You're just a pathetic little asshole!"
"Oh, are you quoting me? I feel flattered," the demon sneered.
She wanted to give him a piece of her mind too at that moment, but she first had to finish the conversation she had started with the idiot she had been unlucky enough to meet. At this point, she couldn't understand how she had been so blind during those months when he disappeared every evening for whatever reason with the most disparate excuses. Now that she had removed the thick slices of prosciutto she had put over her eyes, she felt even stupider; any other girl would have noticed his coldness, his tardiness, and, above all, his absent libido. Or rather, absent with her but not with any woman who passed under his nose.
Chris leaned toward her almost menacingly. "You're ridiculous, you could have spared me this scene. Now you understand why I preferred the others?"
The tears of anger turned into tears of pain upon hearing those cutting words. Chris had never been a romantic or sweet guy, but she had never realized how much of a bastard he could be. The radio interference in her headphones grew louder, and she was forced to take them off to eliminate the whistling in her ears, although this didn't help her broken heart. In that moment of pain, a pact with Alastor no longer seemed so absurd.
Her shadow was stretching out under Chris's feet and rising menacingly behind the boy, and she remained paralyzed, watching behind him while he continued to rail against her and insult her. She mechanically put the headphones back on, hoping for an explanation from the deranged demon.
"Someone should teach him some manners," he hissed, his voice terribly serious.
Before she could even think of a reply, the shadow's arm had stretched out toward the boy's neck and begun to squeeze. Chris, in response, had his eyes wide with terror and began to look around to understand what was happening, even though from his position, he couldn't see the shadow behind him trying to strangle him. Samantha watched the scene, terrified, while the concrete fear materialized in her head that, sooner or later, Alastor could do the exact same thing to her.
The shadow tightened its grip and lifted the poor guy a few centimetres off the ground. He had started to cry uncontrollably in the meantime, even arousing a kind of pity in Samantha's heart. He was desperately trying to speak, while his face began to turn ashen, but the grip must have been so strong that it blocked his vocal cords.
"If it's because of him that you called me, I'll be happy to send him to Hell early even without requiring your soul; I've always hated parasites like him, even when I was alive."
Hearing those words, she managed to shake off the immobility, and her brain finally started working correctly again.
"Let him go," she mumbled softly. "I... I didn't want this."
Hearing those words, the demon released his grip, and the boy fell to the ground on the asphalt, clutching his throat and coughing from lack of oxygen. He looked around anxiously, then turned his eyes to her. He stared at her with fear and contempt, as if he were looking at a monster; he probably thought she had something to do with what had just happened, and in part, he wasn't entirely wrong. She had summoned that demon to make him pay, even if her concept of revenge was limited to the idea of giving him a hard-to-cure herpes on the tip of his dick.
She tried to approach him to help him up, but he pushed her away, then got up and backed away, his light eyes narrowed to two pinpricks.
"Stay away from me, you sick freak."
Having said those words, he practically fled down the tree-lined avenue surrounding the university, disappearing almost immediately into one of the side streets bordering it. Samantha thanked the heavens that no one had been there to witness the scene; at that hour, almost everyone was at lunch in the cafeteria or the bar, so the exterior of the building remained practically isolated, and cars rarely travelled that stretch of road except to park a little further back.
She ran her hands over her face in despair, trying to steady her breathing, while her playlist had strangely resumed playing normally. Alastor had finally stopped interfering with that too, and she looked for him in her shadow. She was shocked to notice that it had returned to its normal appearance and followed her movements. She moved her arms to see if he had actually disappeared and realized with astonishment that there was no trace of him.
"Alastor?" she asked softly, then looked around cautiously.
Only the faint sound of the wind that hit the poplars on the avenue answered her question, causing some pollen and leaves to fall as it passed. If it hadn't been for the fact that she had seen him interact with other people, she would have truly thought she had gone mad.
She took a few steps in the direction where she had seen Chris disappear, hoping the demon hadn't chosen to follow her ex this time, but there was no trace of him. Both had vanished into thin air.
A hand suddenly rested on her shoulder, making her jump and startle. Her backpack fell to the ground due to her quick movements, and she found herself facing a boy with a strangely familiar look.
He was tall, definitely taller than her. He wore a pair of rounds, Harry Potter-style glasses and had dark hair combed into a neat tuft. His perfect white teeth shone under the sunlight, in contrast with his tanned skin. That smile, however, had something vaguely familiar about it, as did the dark, confident eyes peeking out from behind the thin frame.
"You look like you've seen a ghost," he uttered in a suave voice. "Or rather... a demon."
At that point, Samantha definitively stopped breathing. The person in front of her was not a simple boy, but the disturbing demon she had inadvertently summoned and... damn, he was fascinating! More than the revelation he had just made, she was shocked by his beauty and attractiveness, totally in contrast with the demon she had seen that same morning. None of the characteristic red remained, nor the sharp teeth. How could he be so damn sexy and frightening?
She tried to articulate a few syllables, but her vocal cords decided not to cooperate, and only a few completely inappropriate rasping sounds came out at that moment. By now, she shouldn't have been surprised by anything after what had happened, but he always managed to put her in difficulty.
He's a demon, not a boy, wake up! the little voice screamed in her head, and she found herself blinking several times to return to reality. Alastor, meanwhile, had bent down to pick up her backpack and hand it to her. He was dressed decidedly elegantly for that era; a white shirt buttoned all the way up with a black bow tie and a waistcoat of the same colour. More than a university student, he looked like a waiter in an elegant restaurant, the kind she couldn't afford even in a million lifetimes.
"But... how did you do that?" she asked, taking the backpack from his hand, being careful not to touch him, as if she were afraid that doing so would break the spell.
He raised his hand in the air confidently. "Ma belle, in the human world, I can resume my mortal form at my leisure, something that is not possible in the demonic world."
She felt a strange twitch in her left eye and a drop of sweat run down her forehead. "Then why were you hiding in my shadow until five seconds ago?" she hissed nervously.
Alastor confidently put his arm around her shoulders, starting to lead her along the tree-lined avenue as if he knew exactly where they should be heading.
"And what would be the fun in that?"
Samantha wanted to slap him, but she remembered when she had dared to laugh at him that morning, and she didn't even want to imagine what he might turn into if she made such a reckless gesture. He would probably bite off her hand even before she could hit his cheek.
“Hello, it’s nice to meet you, can you tell me where I am?” he began to hum in a warm voice, while attempting a few confident dance steps while still walking.
Congratulations, Samantha, of all the demons you could summon, you got the bipolar one who is... terribly sexy.
 
 
 
Between dance steps and quietly sung songs, they finally arrived at the university. Technically, she didn't have any classes to attend, just as Chris had said, but she needed to go to the library to pick up some textbooks for exams she had to take soon. Alastor, behind her, walked confidently with his back straight and his usual smile plastered on his face; even without those sharp teeth, he appeared decidedly more reassuring than creepy. She couldn't believe she had the same entity in front of her that had scared her to death just a few hours earlier. She scrutinized him secretly while his thin, long fingers - "like a pianist's," her mother would have called them - traced the bindings of some books. Without the jacket covering him, he revealed a decidedly lean, but no less strong, physique. His slender waist, broad shoulders, sleek, nimble legs; everything about him seemed to leave trails of charm mixed with a charisma she had never seen in boys on Earth. She looked at herself in the window that surrounded part of the library and offered a partial view of the university gardens, and she felt mortified by her sloppy appearance. It certainly hadn't been a simple morning, but she had gotten dressed like a tramp before going out: her hair still in that messy bun with stray locks escaping, a shapeless black tracksuit, and zero makeup on her face. It wouldn't kill her to try to be a bit more presentable from time to time.
She sighed, dejected; she had far more pressing problems at the moment, and her physical appearance could wait until the end of the crazy adventure she had gotten herself into.
"Peek-a-boo!" trilled a voice behind her, making her jump.
Her nerves were shot, and she had the feeling she would soon burst into tears like a child, and keeping all her emotions under control didn't help her precarious mental state. She turned around and found the cheerful face of her best friend. She had short blonde hair tied in a half-ponytail that reached halfway down her swan neck, and bright blue, lively eyes that scrutinized her from head to toe.
"Sam, it wouldn't hurt you to at least try to pretend you care about how you go out," she gently chided, pulling a corner of the enormous dark sweatshirt that covered Samantha almost down to her knees.
She rolled her eyes, exasperated; she kept repeating it to her. "Yes, fine, my wardrobe sucks, I know!"
As she put back the book she had taken, since it wasn't the one she needed, she saw Alastor's dark eyes peer out from the space between the books on the shelf; he looked like he wanted to devour her, and she felt a chill. She had to send Alice away quickly; she couldn't introduce them, as the situation was already difficult to manage.
She didn't even have time to turn around to tell her friend to wait for her at the coffee shop when he materialized beside her as if he had sprung from the shadows, and she flinched to see him so close again.
Her friend's large, bright eyes widened, and she had almost the same reaction as Samantha had the first time she saw Alastor's human version: astonishment and the risk of drooling.
"Um... who might you be?" the blonde asked, looking perplexed and captivated at the same time.
Alastor performed a small bow, leaning his torso forward and bending one arm at his waist, then fixed his dark eyes on her friend. "Bonjour, ma belle. My name is Alastor, a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
He calls everyone "ma belle," then, Samantha thought, piqued, instinctively crossing her arms over her chest and waiting for him to finish his flirtatious gestures.
Alice stifled a giggle, then looked at Samantha with a knowing expression before turning her attention back to who appeared, to all intents and purposes, to be a normal boy.
"Nice to meet you, Alastor, I'm Alice; a very dear friend of Sam's," she replied, as if to let him know that she was off-limits and that she would never dare to try anything with her friend's companion.
Samantha mentally face-palmed in despair. And now, who would get rid of the idea in her head that she was flirting with Alastor? Alice would hound her until she gave her all the "juicy" details, as she called them. Too bad that boy, as charming as he was, was not that kind of company, and could never be!
Are you sure? You were just looking at his ass thirty seconds ago, the annoying little voice hissed in her head, making the image of Alastor bending over for the bow, and her quickly glancing at his backside, pass before her again. She blinked several times, trying to erase the image from her mind; it wasn't the time to get lost in naughty thoughts, even though she hadn't had sex for over two months - and man had she tried to make Chris capitulate!
"Peculiar name, I take it you're not from around here," Alice pressed, leaning lazily against the wooden table behind her and casting glances at Samantha for an explanation.
Alastor broadened his smile without showing his teeth. "No, I come from New Orleans," he replied calmly, making her wonder if he was lying or if he had actually lived there when he was alive.
Alice nodded, looking perplexed, continuing to move her blue eyes from him to her in a continuous ping-pong of glances. This was the prelude to a long phone call where Samantha would have to pull out her best lying skills because her friend would never let an event like that slide.
"So," she tried to intervene at that point. "I think it's time to go, right?"
She shot a fleeting glance at Alastor, but he kept his head high and didn't even grant her a look. Until a few seconds ago, he did nothing but stare at her, and now she seemed to have become the invisible one under his shadow.
Unbearable, she thought, narrowing her eyes.
Alice nodded knowingly, taking her arm and practically forcing her towards the coffee shop. "Of course! You and I absolutely have to grab a coffee alone."
A couple of coughs behind them made them immediately stop and turn around. Alastor, one hand clenched in a fist over his mouth to cover it, had deliberately drawn their attention. Samantha felt scrutinized to the soul by those dark eyes, in which she was sure she saw a sort of reddish glow, something Alice probably hadn't noticed. He was smiling, this time showing his upper row of teeth, and approaching them with the same slowness as a lion facing two gazelles. Did he want her friend's soul too? After all, they had summoned him together. The idea of sharing that burden was as tempting as it was terrifying, but she would never allow her friend to also fall into the clutches of that demon. Instinctively and without thinking, she put a hand in front of Alice as if to protect her, eliciting a perplexed look from her friend at the excessive reaction.
"I apologize for disturbing your plans," he began in a husky tone of voice. "But Samantha promised me that we would spend some tête-à-tête time; it wouldn't be nice to postpone after having invited me."
She felt her brain resume that high-pitched whistling from when not even a thought could pass through. Seeing him in human form had almost made her forget too quickly that he was there to claim her soul once her wish was granted. The point remained that she didn't wish for much; even the idea of Chris getting herpes on his penis had lost its interest since she saw him crying like a baby while being strangled by Alastor in the form of a shadow. Was it worth asking him not to take her soul as a pact? She had to remember to try once they were alone.
Alice made a nervous hand gesture. "Well, handsome fellow, I'll only steal a little bit of your time, I promise. I just wanted to talk to her about some things that happened last night, but you can certainly attend, as long as you're not afraid of ghosts," she seasoned those sentences with a light pat on the demon's shoulder, and Samantha felt faint.
Red alert, red alert, abort mission! There was literally Hell in her head. She begged the demon with her eyes not to hurt her friend, but he seemed interested in the subject in question, and his smile widened again, showing his lower row of teeth as well.
"Try me, ma chérie."
 
 
 
Gimme, gimme, gimme some time to think
I'm in the bathroom, looking at me
 
They had arrived at the coffee shop less than ten minutes ago, and those two seemed to have become best friends along the way. She couldn't grasp how or when it had happened, but by now, asking questions was an activity as futile as it was exhausting. Alastor had arrived in her life suddenly, and in a few hours, he had managed to turn it into a rollercoaster ride that made her feel nauseous with every drop. She had always been a simple person, with few demands and even less frivolity in her mind, but now she was forced to come to terms with the fact that - in order of importance - there existed: demons, radio demons, Hell, Heaven perhaps?, Alastor, and finally, a damn sexy version of many of the things mentioned above.
He was sitting properly on the chair, sipping his coffee like a normal human being and didn't seem at all affected by the situation he was putting her through; on the contrary, he probably genuinely enjoyed making her despair like that.
"A séance," he commented. "With a Ouija board." he pronounced the word oui with a perfect French accent, and she made a mental note to look for more information about the city of New Orleans; she was so bad at history that she had no idea French was spoken there.
 
Wait until the reaper takes my life
Never gonna get me out alive
I will live a thousand million lives
 
The Imagine Dragons song continued to play on the coffee shop radio, and she had the impression that, somehow, Alastor had turned up the volume of the song to hear it better.
"Oh yes! Crazy, right? Who knows what we thought we were summoning," Alice laughed out, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.
Samantha forced a laugh at Alastor's knowing look at that comment and turned towards the rest of the bar while swirling her cappuccino cup between her hands. The area was quite crowded with students huddled at plywood tables filled with books or drinks containing exorbitant amounts of caffeine, or with their noses pressed against the transparent glass that separated them from the freshly baked, tempting brioches; straining the precarious patience of the waitresses who would have to clean the glass. A classic coffee shop of considerable size, yet chaotic and always crowded because of the university students. She only appreciated it around five o'clock, when no one was drinking coffee anymore, and the only sound she heard was the clicking of her computer keys. She glanced at the garden surrounding the campus and for a crazy moment wished to lie down under one of the poplars and surrender to a restful sleep under the April sun.
 
My patience is waning
Is this entertaining?
Our patience is waning
Is this entertaining?
 
"And why, if I may ask, did you decide to make this attempt?" Alastor asked, resting his chin on his crossed fingers below and placing his elbows on the table.
Alice continued to laugh. "Oh well, you know, our Sam has a particularly asshole ex, and she wanted..."
"Noooo!" she shouted, almost leaping across the table to cover her friend's mouth, who drew back, frightened by her excessive reaction. All she needed was for him to discover her wishes and use them to make a pact without her consent.
They both turned towards the boy, who was smiling with his mouth closed and raising an eyebrow inquisitively.
 
I-I-I got this feeling, yeah, you know
Where I'm losing all control
'Cause there's magic in my bones
I-I-I got this feeling in my soul
Go ahead and throw your stones
'Cause there's magic in my bones
 
She only realized at that moment that by jumping up, she had spilled her cappuccino and stained Alastor's immaculate shirt. He swiftly grabbed a cloth napkin pulled out from who knows where and began to dab the stain gracefully, without taking his eyes off her.
Killed by a demon for spilling coffee on him, an ending worthy of a life lived by a rash, if not stupid, person, she thought to herself.
Alastor never lost his smile, but his eyes had an expressive range worthy of an actor more than a radio speaker, and at that moment, they seemed to burn with a repressed anger capable of incinerating her if he let it loose.
"I... I'm sorry," she stammered, sliding her chest across the table and sinking back into her chair, in the posture of a child who had just been scolded by their mother and who had quietly said the dreaded phrase, "We'll talk about this at home," which usually portended a reprimand complete with punishments.
Alice somehow managed to break the tension with a laugh. "Always the same! You never change," she exclaimed, starting to get up and gather her things. "Anyway, I have to go now. Are you coming to the party tonight?"
The party organized by a group of students from the university, to which they had been kindly invited a few evenings earlier, and which she had promised to attend - under penalty of eternal hatred from Alice for abandoning her - only came back to her mind at that moment.
She sighed, exhausted, passing a hand over her eyes and trying to calm down. "It's just that I'm not feeling very well, you know, after last night..."
"She will be delighted to attend," Alastor replied on her behalf. "And it will be my pleasure to accompany her."
 
Look in the mirror of my mind
Turning the pages of my life
Walking the path so many paced a million times
 
Alice looked at both questioningly, but in the end, she accepted the situation with a shrug and then left with a cheerful smile, completely contrasting with the flat expression Sam was wearing at that moment. That demon had decided to drive her crazy for not yet revealing what she wanted; she was certain of it now.
When she turned to look at him, she noticed that the huge cappuccino stain had disappeared from his clothes, but she decided not to question it further. She had seen him make a new chair appear in her house and change his appearance like that; the time for astonishment at these events was long over.
"Excuse me, first you want a tête-à-tête, or whatever the heck you call it, and now you've changed your mind?" she asked between one sigh of resignation and the next.
Alastor shrugged, adjusting his glasses with his index finger. "Ma belle, you don't refuse social occasions at the last minute, much less if you've promised to attend. I should teach you a lot about manners."
"Said by someone who takes people's souls for a living, doesn't that sound a bit, how should I put it, hypocritical?"
She saw that reddish glow reappear in Alastor's eyes, while his smile tightened, hiding his perfect teeth and remaining only a curved line on his thin lips. "Ça va sans dire, that's work, and in that, you have to be a shark, otherwise you risk quickly becoming the prey."
"Touché," she replied with one of the few French words she knew and slumped back against the chair, almost sliding under the table, the demon's disapproving gaze on her, as if he wanted to tell her to be more composed.
"I think it's time to return to a place where I can be myself; this human form is annoying and emotional," Alastor spat out that last word with disgust.
Before Sam could protest, she was dragged into the deepest darkness until her bottom met something soft beneath her. Once the shadow dissipated, she found herself back in her room, practically thrown onto her mattress, with Alastor in front of her, having resumed his classic demonic appearance.
She found herself staring at him for endless seconds, while he straightened his bow tie and wiped the sleeves of his jacket with the back of his hand. Now that she had seen his human form, his demonic one also somehow carried that charm that had struck her, despite the terrifying sharp teeth and sharp claws.
No, Samantha, you're already messed up enough without feeling physically attracted to a demon, she thought, trying with all her might to stop staring at him.
"So, ma belle, do you already have an idea of what to wear for this party?" the demon asked, his voice distorted again, leaning his back against the kitchen sink and tapping his staff on the floor a couple of times.
She looked at him perplexed. "Seriously, given our current situation, a party seems like the least appropriate place to go."
Alastor's smile widened again as he kept his eyelids half-closed. "Oh, ma chérie, as the song says, A little party never killed nobody."
She didn't know if it was the whisper-like way of speaking coming from the underworld or the crazy, greenish glint that flashed around him, but at that moment, he lost all appeal in her eyes.
Couldn't he have remained human a little longer?

Notes:

Sorry, but I had a PHYSICAL need to include Alastor's human version, and I found the "excuse" that he can only do it when he's in our little human dimension. I finally managed to write a chapter longer than 6 short pages, victory! *pats self on the back*.

The song "Insane" was mandatory as far as I'm concerned—it is a Hazbin Hotel fanfic after all!

Poor Sam is getting closer and closer to a nervous breakdown and even finds Alastor attractive (and who wouldn't, I might add?). He, on the other hand, is enjoying the breath of fresh air—and of blood—that this new adventure brings him.

As always, thank you to everyone who is reading <3

See you soon!

Chapter 4: A little party never killed nobody

Notes:

Hey there! Sorry for the interruption, but I wanted to give you some references for the songs mentioned in the chapter, in case you want to listen to them while reading certain parts:

Bloody Mary - Lady Gaga
A little party never killed nobody - Fergie

After all, it's an FF (Fanfiction) about Hazbin Hotel—music is a must!
Happy reading, and I'll see you at the end

She had remained in the shower for a long time, searching the warm water for a calm that no longer seemed to belong to her. She felt drained and tired, too many emotions to keep under control in a single day, and at that moment, all she wanted was to throw herself under the covers and forget about parties and dancing.
She turned off the water and pulled back the flowered curtain, slipping on her flip-flops and staring at the mirror fogged up by the condensation that had formed in the small space. Before she could wipe it with the palm of her hand, the room light began to flicker, and she looked up, wondering if she really needed to change it or if that coming and going was caused by the demon playing with the radio in the other room.
She lowered her gaze back to the mirror and jumped; the words 'What time is the rendezvous for the party? It's rude to be late' were emblazoned across the surface.
She looked around and clearly saw a shadow creep from under the door and vanish from sight.
"ALASTOR!" she screamed with all the breath in her throat, rushing out of the bathroom like a fury with the towel tied under her armpits and her hair dripping everywhere. She found the demon comfortably lying on her bed, staring boredly at the ceiling, his strange shadow cast behind him.
"Yes?" he asked, completely unfazed by her impending outburst.
"Were you spying on me while I was showering?!" she shrieked, raising her hands wildly in the air and putting them down only when she felt the piece of cloth threaten to slip off her body and leave her naked.
The demon lowered his eyelids with an ironic air. "Ma chérie, neither I nor my shadow are interested in feminine or masculine charms; we are not accustomed to that kind of desire."
Sam puffed out her cheeks and then let out a choked cry into her hands as she felt hysteria wash over her. This absurd cohabitation was proving to be not only dangerous for her life but, above all, for her sanity.
"You still came into the bathroom while I was naked without permission, you who talk so much about etiquette!" she snapped again, her face crimson from the shower's heat and her fury.
Alastor, with a fluid motion, stood up, grabbing his cane and widening his smile, his funny, furry ears seeming to vibrate.
"I can swear on my honour that I saw nothing, nor did my shadow," he replied serenely, placing a hand over his heart as if to give greater emphasis to his words; the shadow behind him mimicking the gesture.
She exasperatedly dragged the palm of her hand across her face, pulling at her skin and blowing warm air through her nose. This demon would drive her to damnation long before taking her to Hell. The question she had posed to herself that afternoon at the bar came back to her.
"Listen... would being left alone without taking my soul count as a wish?" she asked, widening her dark eyes with the air of a frightened puppy.
The demon remained impassive for a few seconds before bursting into a hearty, open-mouthed laugh. "You can forget about that, ma belle."
The idea of headbutting the wall until she passed out crossed her mind, but she probably wouldn't even be able to get rid of the red-suited comedian that way. She shuffled her feet to the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind her, venting all her anger on it before remembering that if she broke it, she would have to pay the landlord.
"You still haven't answered the question, by the way," the demon trilled, popping up behind her and nearly giving her a heart attack; so much so that she slipped and ended up on her butt on the floor.
"Christ!" she exclaimed, exasperated, barely holding the towel up to cover herself.
The demon furrowed his eyebrows in a look of denial. "No, I'm sorry, still Alastor the Radio Demon."
"Ha ha ha," she articulated ironically. "Very funny."
"And besides, not answering a question is also a sign of rudeness."
You know where I can stick your etiquette along with your goddamn cane? she thought, trying not to let those words escape her mouth to avoid being instantly killed, the vivid memory of how Alastor could become when angered.
She pulled herself up, holding onto the sink and trying to regain the minimal composure she had left, although it seemed to have vanished along with her sanity. "There's no set time for these parties; they start around nine, and you arrive whenever you want. Now, if it's not too much trouble, would you be so kind as to give me my space?"
The demon looked at the watch on his wrist, which he must have materialized just to mock her, and then tapped it with his crimson claw.
"Nine o'clock struck a good five minutes ago; it's time to get a move on."
Now on the verge of a hysterical crisis, she opened the door, but as soon as she made a move to touch the demon to push him out, he grabbed her wrist, making her tremble with fear, and a faint pang of pain ran up her entire arm. The demon's eyes in front of her were darkening almost to complete blackness, and his body seemed to stretch up toward the ceiling again, to the point that she thought he would break through it.
"I do not appreciate being touched, ever," he hissed.
She was trembling so violently with fear that the towel, already perilously balanced on her chest, finally slipped to the floor, leaving her naked, but at that moment, it was the least of her problems, and her sense of modesty had packed its bags along with her courage, never to return; how much she wished she could have followed them.
Alastor seemed genuinely uninterested in her body; he continued to hold those dark pits fixed on her eyes and did not let his gaze wander over her exposed charms for even a second. He did, however, have the good grace to return to his classic height and release her wrist, which she clutched tightly to her chest where her heart had begun to gallop at a speed never before reached. He kept his eyes, which were once again a bright red, fixed on hers, maintaining a smile that, despite everything, appeared strangely serious.
The demon bent down to her feet and picked up the bath towel, handing it to her casually. Sam wished she had the strength to grab it, but she was terrified that the mere risk of brushing his hand would send him into a rage again.
"Ma chérie, cover yourself," he ordered peremptorily, his eyelids slightly lowered and his gaze turned towards the window to grant her a minimum of privacy.
She finally managed to snap out of it only because his tone was terrifyingly serious and authoritative, and still trembling, she grabbed the towel, lowering her eyes to her hand to avoid the risk of accidentally brushing his. When she brought her gaze back to the demon's face, she almost got the impression that he had been scrutinizing her closely in those brief seconds when she wasn't looking him in the eyes, but she immediately pushed that thought away; it was crazy even to imagine such nonsense. Alastor was many things, but she certainly couldn't classify him with the usual parameters of horny guys she had met in life; he was probably looking at something else.
He passed her without another glance, but left the door open behind him and went back to sitting on the plastic chair in the kitchen, resuming sipping something from a glass Sam had never seen.
No questions about what he's drinking; you're only miraculously alive because you touched him! the little voice inside her muttered, and for the first time, she found herself having to agree with it.
She was so shaken by what had happened that the only defence mechanism she found to return to normal was humour, as the demon seemed to particularly appreciate it.
"If you care about this party so much, I have to imagine there aren't many in Hell," she whispered, trying not to let any tremor show in her voice.
"Oh, we have parties; in fact, I said I would accompany you, but I never said I would go inside."
Sam stood with the brush stuck in her hair upon hearing that sentence. Not only was he forcing her out after the day he had put her through, but he wouldn't even attend. She blinked several times in front of the mirror and couldn't hold back a victorious little smile; she would have a few hours of distance from that demonic stalker.
"Wipe that smug smile off your face, ma belle. I meant that your friend won't see me, but I will continue to follow you like a shadow."
With that sentence, she definitively said goodbye to the possibility of having a few hours to herself and let her head drop against the mirror, the brush still tangled in the knots tapping against the shiny, still slightly fogged surface.
It's going to be a long night.
 
 
 
 
The party was at a nightclub that mainly played hip-hop and commercial music, which was something Sam particularly appreciated in venues like this. Years of breakdancing had shaped her for that style, and she especially valued the opportunity to wear whatever she liked, without the obligation of heels or absurdly elegant dresses that would disappear into the back of her closet as soon as they were taken off.
His shadow, or rather Alastor, walked beside her, projected onto the wall by the streetlights, and every now and then, it almost seemed to scrutinize her. She had made sure to put in her earphones in case the demon decided to communicate with her, and so she'd have the excuse of being on a call if someone saw her talking to herself.
"In modern times, is this how one dresses for parties?" he asked.
Sam sighed. "Yes, the days when we women were constrained in corsets and heels are over. Feminists burned their bras, and here we are!" she muttered ironically.
Truthfully, she hadn't put much effort into her outfit this time either. She had slipped on a pair of wide, pocket-filled jeans and a cropped top that left her midriff bare. Over that, she wore her usual heavy, military-green jacket that Alice had repeatedly called ‘hideous’
"Sacre bleu! I must have missed some entertaining years."
"I thought you weren't interested in feminine charms," she said, looking at her own shadow with a sarcastic air.
The figure responded with a shrug. "It wouldn't have been the bras that interested me, but rather the protests, the blood, and..."
"I get it! Pestilence, death, and damnation, right?"
She finally arrived at the club and started wondering how she was going to converse with the demon in her shadow from now on. She removed one of the earphones and positioned her wavy hair to hide the second one. At least she would be able to hear his comments; or rather, his ramblings, which had become like a pleasant lullaby.
Wake up, Sam! Demon who wants your soul, not a pet! she thought, shaking herself out of it and heading with her head down into the usual chaos. The air was thick with cigarette smoke and alcohol, and she had to do her best to reach the coat check to leave her jacket and make her way to the counter where she was supposed to meet Alice.
She found her with a drink in her hand and a tight black bodysuit that left little to the imagination; her friend was sexy and knew how to use that trait effectively.
"SAM!" she yelled, waving, revealing by her tone of voice that this was certainly not her first cocktail.
She wasn't too surprised to see her already tipsy; they usually drank well before arriving at parties to avoid spending too much money, but this time she had had to decline to prevent Alastor from playing any more nasty tricks on her.
"Hey!" she replied, trying to mask the embarrassment she felt at that moment. Not only was she not actually alone, but Alice would demand detailed explanations about the demon gloating in her shadow.
In less than two seconds, Alice had ordered a drink for her too, and Sam knew she should have declined it, but alcohol was the only thing that could lift the feeling of anxiety that had gripped her since that morning. Or, perhaps, it would make her forget that she had a demon attached to her butt, speaking into her ears through the earphone. Putting those thoughts together made her feel crazy again, and she awkwardly leaned her elbows on the counter.
"Composed, ma chérie," he reprimanded her, forcing her to stand straight with the sheer power of his shadow. This demon was truly a pain in the ass.
"So, my dearest Sam, who was that handsome guy you were bringing with you today?" Alice asked suggestively.
She nearly choked on her drink, distinctly hearing Alastor's sneer in her ears. Damn him and his terrifying little laugh, and especially the relentless questioning of her best friend, who was trying to keep her from choking by giving her energetic slaps on the back.
"He's just an old friend; we met in high school and ran into each other today by chance," she coughed out, trying to catch her breath and sound believable at the same time.
"Friend is a big word; let's say future master, instead."
Why did thinking of him as her master somehow ignite a fire in her chest? No, she couldn't believe she had such a crazy thought after what had happened just an hour before. Probably somewhere, a few cogs in her brain had stopped working when she first saw him, and ever since then, she had been making absurd and nonsensical judgments.
"Too bad, he was a handsome devil," Alice mumbled, her voice slurred, managing to shake Sam out of her suicidal thoughts.
"He doesn't look like it to me; I'd call him a guy," she replied, trying to regain control of herself, even though looking for it at the bottom of that glass was definitely not a good idea.
"Ma belle, you wound the poor heart, or what's left of it."
Alright, now he was getting heavy, and she had definitely had enough. She pulled the earphone out of her ear, trying not to be noticed by her friend, and threw herself onto the dance floor, dragging Alice with her, aware that this move could be either her salvation or her ruin. Alastor might be offended again by her attitude, but she was counting on the fact that he wouldn't resume his demonic form in front of all these people. Right?
She danced with all the fervour she had, following the rhythm of the music, supported by a second drink that was beginning to have its mischievous effects, as if it could solve the problem it had already created. Alcohol wasn't the solution to problems, but neither was water, so why worry? She certainly couldn't worsen her situation further; she just had to try to drink enough to relax, but not too much to become a goddamn truth-spitting machine about her existence, or Alastor would even know how many times she had touched herself while looking at her favourite singer's poster.
"Bloody Mary" by Lady Gaga began to blast across the dance floor, and she and her friend started imitating Jenna Ortega's moves from the TV series Wednesday, laughing like fools at the scene they were putting on.
The music was heading toward the finale, but when it came to the ‘Love’ scream, Sam distinctly felt the voice was more distorted than it should normally be, and a shiver ran down her spine as she felt the back of her neck burn as if two eyes were fixed upon it.
 
Gaga, gaga, gaga, gaga
 
Each time the word was chanted, the lights flickered on and off to the music's rhythm, and just behind her, she could see the figure of Alastor's human form staring at her with a mixture of amusement and nervousness. Every time the light went out, she could see his eyes turn red and his smile become sharper.
 
Dum dum, da di da Dum dum, da di da, dadda da di da
 
Alastor was moving towards her like a predator about to attack, and she found herself frozen in place, exactly like the first time she saw him. He was so majestic and spectral that she wondered how the other people failed to notice him, despite maintaining a sort of safe distance from his body. She had learned the hard way how much he hated being even brushed against.
 
I won't cry for you I won't crucify the things you do, do, do
 
Oh, he certainly could crucify her with the sheer force of those dark, lethal eyes; she was certain of it. When he was just a few centimetres away, her breathing accelerated, as if she would soon be forced to hold it.
Alice broke that lethal spell, hopping between the two of them and greeting Alastor, but before she could touch him again, Sam grabbed her hands, forcing them back down to her sides. Now she even had to babysit her friend to keep her from being devoured in a single bite; something she would definitely risk if she didn't keep a safe distance.
"Well heeeellooo!" she shouted, piercing both their eardrums. "I thought you weren't coming."
Alastor finally took his eyes off her, almost giving her permission to breathe normally again, and she felt the force of gravity become heavier, as if it wanted to drag her underground. She had to admit to herself that the idea of being swallowed up wasn't so bad; at least it would put an end to this absurdity.
"Bonsoir, Alice, it is a pleasure to see you again," for a second, the demon's voice had maintained that strange distorted tone, but it quickly returned to a somewhat normal one.
She felt cold sweat trickle down her back and turn into pieces of ice on her skin, especially when Alice stepped away, winking at her.
No, please don't leave me, this guy is really going to kill me, she thought, remaining motionless.
Alastor stood still like a block of wood in the middle of the dance floor, his arms crossed over his chest, dressed in the same way she had seen him just a few hours earlier.
Her mind evaluated all the possible consequences of that look, but her survival instinct, which had probably left along with her rationality and sense of modesty, was completely gone. She found herself looking at him with a stupid expression and mumbling the first words that came to mind.
"Sooo... do you dance?" she asked, nervously scratching the back of her neck.
Alastor curled one corner of his mouth in what might have been a grimace of disgust. "If this is what you call 'dancing,' then no."
Sam found herself swallowing another lump in her throat with difficulty and tried to force a smile. "So what do you dance?"
The demon's smile became strangely friendly again, and with a snap of his fingers, the music suddenly stopped, and the room was plunged almost into total darkness as murmurs of disappointment rose from the crowd. A second snap, and a cone of light poured over him, leaving her completely in the shadows.
Music that she identified as a kind of jazz, as far as she knew, began to resonate through the room, while he tapped the rhythm with his foot.
 
Just one night all we got
Just one night all we got
 
Alastor moved one hand first to the left, extending his arm, and then the other to the right, before suddenly embracing his shoulders. He crossed one foot and spun around, then pointed his finger toward her as if inviting her to move, while a second cone of light turned on above her. The crowd around them had dispersed to enjoy the scene, but she was completely motionless and utterly unprepared for the steps.
Shit, maybe my mother was right when she told me I should learn some couple dances, she thought miserably, feeling a bead of sweat trickle down her temple.
 
I ain't got time for you, baby
Either you're mine or you're not
Make up your mind, sweet baby
Right here, right now's all we got
 
She found herself moved by a force greater than herself, one leg carried forward and the other slightly bent, while one arm raised above her head. Alastor suddenly grabbed the hand she had stretched forward, and she prayed he wasn't about to rip it clean off, but looking into his eyes, she saw only a smug and completely untroubled smile. He made her twirl so that she ended up dangerously close with her back to his chest, while he also grabbed her free hand.
 
A little party never killed nobody
So we gon' dance until we drop, mm
A little party never killed nobody
Right here, right now's all we got
 
The more the music intensified, the more she was tossed everywhere by Alastor, who threw her and caught her again to the beat, until he grabbed her arms to make her pass under his wide-open legs, almost tossing her into the crowd behind him, only to grab her again and throw her into the air. She performed absurd steps, things she had never even remotely seen and would never have been able to replicate alone. His warm hands seemed to mold her, along with that strange shadow, making her feel like a puppet without a will. She could barely look him in the face to shoot him dagger eyes, but every time their gazes met, he seemed genuinely amused by the situation, to the point that she finally let herself go too.
 
All we got
All we got
All we got
 
She couldn't say what the hell was happening to her, but she was in the dance now, wasn't she? Might as well keep dancing.
 
Hope you can keep up boys, 'cause believe me, I'm a the bee's knees
It don't mean a thing if I give you my heart If you tear it apart,
No, ah-ah-ah, ow
 
She found herself in an improvised casqué, and Alastor's warm hand lingered strangely on that patch of exposed skin on her back, and she was sure she felt him stroke it with his thumb.
 
A little party never killed nobody
So we gon' dance until we drop, mm
A little party never killed nobody
Right here, right now's all we got
 
The music slowly faded, and she found herself pressed against his chest, his hand gripping her back and the other holding her free one. She had ended up resting a hand on his shoulder and looked in horror at the proximity.
A roar of cheers rose from the crowd, and the lights began to return to normal as the song they had just danced to was replaced by other melodies more suited to the environment.
The demon pulled her away abruptly, then bowed toward the audience, performing a pompous bow repeatedly in different directions. It was her turn to stand still like a dummy, staring at the crowd applauding her, timidly raising her hand to wave.
The demon returned to her with a toothless smile, his arms clasped behind his back. He had a decidedly satisfied look and, unlike her, did not seem tired at all by the performance he had dragged her into.
"That is dancing," he announced proudly, lifting his chin with a smug air.
Sam pursed her lips; that arrogant jerk behaviour always managed to extinguish any enthusiasm she felt toward him. Without touching her, he gestured with an arm for her to head toward the bar counter, where the bartender offered to comp their drinks to honour that beautiful performance.
"Whiskey, neat," Alastor said coldly, without losing his smile.
Sam found herself glancing at him, trying to figure out what had just gone through his head. After all, it was impossible to probe that brain filled with sulphur and unhealthy ideas, so she gave up almost immediately.
"I thought you didn't want to be touched," she blurted out that confession and immediately regretted it. Why did she always have to find creative ways to get herself killed?
Alastor laughed heartily. "Au contraire, I don't want to be touched; I never said I can't touch."
That sentence made no sense to her ears, but she settled for that mild explanation; asking further would only risk worsening that precarious situation of calm. A strange silence fell over them as both stared at an indefinite point, as if to avoid looking each other in the eye.
Sam, however, felt the third drink making its way into her brain and slowly convincing her to open that damned mouth that kept getting her into trouble.
"So, how long are you going to be attached to me? I mean, I don't think you can stay on Earth forever," after uttering that sentence, she didn't have the courage to look at him and fixed her eyes on the half-empty glass in her hands, looking in it for the answer to the question, ‘Why the hell do I never shut my mouth?’
"As I believe I already told you, I am not in a hurry, but I am sure something you want at all costs will soon come to your mind, and at that point, you will capitulate, handing over your soul to me as a pledge," she couldn't see his expression, but she was sure his smile wasn't as dazzling as usual, given his irritated tone of voice.
She sighed, taking another sip. "But, isn't there anything else you want? Besides my soul, I mean... like a plant? Don't you want to take my cactus? It's definitely worth more than a destroyed soul like mine,"; there it was; she had crossed the safe limit where she avoided bringing up all the pain repressed deep within her spirit.
At that point, she forced herself to turn and look at him, noting that he hadn't stopped keeping his face in her direction for a second, and his smile wasn't as strained as she thought. He was serene, calm, and genuinely amused at that moment, as if he truly enjoyed seeing her suffer.
She let out a sigh, taking her head in her hands and returning to stare at the table. "I can feel your pain and I enjoy it a little bit, right?" she taunted him, quoting the lyrics of the song he had hummed in her ears that afternoon.
"Maybe I enjoy it; not all sorrows are the same," he replied, while she could see his hand reaching out onto the counter to signal the bartender to serve him a second drink.
Should she have asked for more? No, absolutely not; she would have risked confessing much more about her existence, and she wasn't in the mood to open up to a demon who sooner or later would possess her like a mere piece of furniture.
She turned to try to make an idiotic joke, but he was looking at her again, and those dark eyes had something strange about them this time and... he wasn't smiling!
Oh God, he's about to kill me. No, wait, he wants to eat me... hold on, that means the same thing! Did he have a heart attack and I'm saved? I wish, too lucky.
She could see those thin lips in a straight, natural line for the first time, but somehow, it was more frightening than when he smiled like a maniac. The eyes, black as night, fixed intensely on her, and he seemed to be shortening the distance between them.
"Keep me here," he suddenly whispered to her.
Sam blinked a couple of times, unable to fully process those words. She found herself slowly waving a hand in front of his face, as he seemed to have literally frozen.
"Alastor? What the hell are you saying?"
Before she could even dare to touch him with her index finger, she was suddenly catapulted into darkness and once again thrown back into her room, lying on the floor. The room seemed charged with static electricity, and the notes on the floor spun around her as if caught in a whirlwind. The lights kept flickering on and off, and Alastor was once again in his demonic form in front of her. A luminous pentagram had formed at their feet, and he began to grow again, his antlers, limbs, and neck elongated, a luminous 'X' at the centre of his head. Greenish sparks made the environment even more spectral than before, and she started to think this would be the moment she died.
"Alastor! Alastor, where the hell are you?!" a female voice cried out from the pentagram.
Sam's eyes widened. "And who is that?" she screamed in terror, scrambling backward with her butt planted on the floor.
The demon's smiling lips were taut, while his eyes seemed to convey an enormous physical effort, as if he were trying not to be sucked away by the wind that animated every object in that room. Sam managed to duck just before the plastic chair flew at her, crashing into the sink and knocking down all the dishes left to dry.
"Holy shit!" she yelled, clinging to the kitchen cupboard. "Alastor, stop everything!"
"If I could, don't you think I would have done it already?"
His voice was charged with hostility and anger, but she was too distraught even to think before speaking. "Are you saying you're not the one making this mess?!"
"Could someone tell me what Smiles is up to?"
Another voice joined the first one she had heard coming from the pentagram; this time, it sounded male.
"Who are they?!"
"Samantha, keep me here or I swear I will devour your bloody soul even without you making a deal!"
"And how the heck am I supposed to do that? If you haven't noticed, we're both in trouble!"
She felt herself being dragged more and more toward the pentagram, and the cupboard wouldn't hold for long. Alastor had clung to the walls, digging his strange dark tentacles into them, while his smile seemed to tear his face open, and patches appeared at the corners of his mouth.
At that point, her brain finally started putting two and two together - and it had taken its time, given the state of her poor house - and she realized that if she didn't do anything, he would be dragged back to Hell, and she would be forever free of his presence.
The demon's completely black eyes fixed on hers. "Oh, ma belle, if I go down, you're coming with me; don't hope to get rid of our bond so easily."
One of the tentacles suddenly reached for her and dragged her toward the demon, even though she had tried with all her might to remain clinging. She tried to tear it from her waist, but she abandoned all resistance when she found herself a few inches from Alastor's face, realizing it was almost half the size of her body. His antlers grazed the ceiling, and he looked like a giant trapped in a shoebox.
"Merde," she quoted him before being swallowed up with him into the darkness.

Notes:

Oh yes, our Sam's problems are only just beginning, I can assure you *emits an evil laugh*
I admit that during the first chapters, I didn't think so many ideas would come out, but the further I go, the more complex and intricate the plot becomes in my head. However, I'll take my time, leaving plenty of space for the 'daily life' of our beloved protagonists!
How poor Samantha will take it and, above all, what the nice radio demon has in mind?

Stay tuned to find out the scorchingly hot news.
Scorchingly hot, get it?
Because they're going to Hell...

Okay, I'm retiring, after that I might as well disappear.

See you soooooon!

Chapter 5: Highway to hell

Notes:

Below are the songs used (though I hope you all know the first one):
Highway to Hell – ACDC
Little girl gone – Chinchilla
I'll leave you to the chapter, see you at the end!

"Vaggie, I don't get it, how did we bring her here?" "I don't know, honey, but you only took her soul, not her body."
"He could've brought a hot hunk instead of a woman! Never a moment of joy in this fuckin' Hell."
"Do you really think this is the time? We've got a tough cookie on our hands, and I know a thing or two about that!"
"Plus, where the hell did the strawberry pimp go?"
She felt tired, struggling to open her eyelids, and all those voices were giving her a headache. She still wasn't clear on what had happened before she passed out; she only had vague memories of a pentagram, the wind, and the stench of Alastor's breath on her face.
If I go down, you're coming with me.
The demon's words came back to her, and the exact moment she recalled them, she opened her eyes, immediately hit by the light of a chandelier that seemed blinding at that moment. A few blurry figures above her head were leaning over her, while an intense smell of sulphur was fouling all the air reaching her nose.
She deliberately closed her eyes this time, praying she hadn't actually seen what she thought she'd glimpsed for a second, and especially that she wasn't truly in the place she'd imagined.
Okay, Sam, no more booze! Every time you drink, things go south, she told herself mentally, praying with all her might that it was all a dream.
"Don't be afraid, open your eyes," a sweet, feminine voice whispered.
She really wanted to listen, but the little she had seen had left her catatonic. She kept repeating to herself, If I don't open my eyes, it's not real, if I don't open my eyes, I'm just dreaming, like a relaxing lullaby.
"She's gone, we're not getting her back," a husky voice burst out.
Every time she thought she'd hit rock bottom, she managed to grab a shovel and dig even deeper, and this time she'd gone straight to Hell thanks to her screw-ups. She could win a medal for the best screw-up; if they gave out the Golden Idiot award, she'd win it hands down.
It was pointless to keep postponing the inevitable; she had to at least try to see what was around her, if only to check if she had a chance to escape.
She lifted her eyelids, and the light above her hit her retinas again, along with several people with quite singular, not to say terrifying, appearances.
In order, she had: two girls who looked more or less normal, although one had waxy skin and red eyes, and the second was missing an eye, covered by a red X-shaped patch. She shifted her gaze to what looked exactly like a winged cat, and then...
"SPIDEEEER!”
To call herself arachnophobic would be seriously underselling it, given that she could barely stand the sight of one in a photo, and seeing one larger than her, however humanoid, had sent her into complete panic.
Sure, focus on the spider as if you're not in Hell, her usual little voice laughed, while she suddenly scrambled to her feet and leaped onto what looked like a bar counter. All around her were red furnishings, neon lights, carpet, and... dead cockroaches?
The semi-arachnid looked at her with a perplexed expression. "And I'm the weirdest thing you've seen today? Get a grip, sweetheart," he said before turning and flopping onto a nearby couch.
The cat with the top hat turned toward her, arms crossed, eyes half-closed, and an exasperated expression. "Another guest to serve a drink to, classic routine," and he too walked off, ignoring her.
The two girls, strange as they were, remained motionless. The blonde-haired one was trying to force a reassuring smile, while the other tapped her foot and sighed, hand pressed to her forehead.
"Hiii," the first one greeted her, while she remained clinging to the bar counter. "I'm Charlie, nice to meet you."
"Where the fuck am I?! Where's my room? And where's that demon? Where the hell is Alastor? I didn't make a pact, goddammit!"
She fired off all those questions while her brain struggled to process everything she'd just seen. That's it, she was going to rush to a psychiatrist and get prescribed any psychotropic drug to stop her from making any more mistakes, she had definitely crossed the line. Hearing the word pact, the cat perked up his ears and turned to look at her before shaking his head gravely and muttering, he never changes.
The one named Charlie let out a choked giggle, scratching her head. "Well... Vaggie, help me out?"
The latter widened her one remaining eye. "Oh, yes, sure," she mumbled, advancing toward her.
She grabbed the first thing she could find to use as a shield, but whatever it was started moving and even seemed to chuckle. She slowly turned and found herself clutching a very small, cycloptic creature around the waist.
"Welcome to the hotel! Do you want me to de-infest a room for you?" she asked in a squeaky voice, showing her a thin awl, she held in her hand and waving it in front of her eyes.
"Oh my Goood!" she shrieked, letting it drop and tumbling off the counter herself, legs in the air.
Her head immediately started throbbing from the bump, and her back, held in an unnatural position, did the same. A familiar face with that annoyingly smug smile plastered on its lips appeared in her field of vision.
"Wrong again. That's Niffty, our adorable housekeeper. If you're looking for the big boss, he's upstairs, but I doubt it'll be easy to get to him," he said, squinting and pointing his index finger at the sky outside the window. A sky that was, moreover, dark and reddish.
At that point, she had nothing left to lose; he had managed to drag her to Hell, and she was surely even dead; so, she might as well risk everything.
She jumped to her feet with reflexes she didn't know she possessed and lunged toward the demon, who, however, elegantly sidestepped with a slight move to the left, leaving her to crash onto the carpet again. It was her destiny to always fall further down.
Frustrated, tired, and sore, she let herself fall to the floor, planting her face on the carpet and huffing out all the air in her lungs along with what was left of her already precarious sanity. She had reached her limit, the end of the line, game over, or whatever one wanted to call it, and she had no escape route. Her only consolation was that she'd spend eternity making the red-clad one pay, since they were now playing on common ground.
Someone started patting her shoulder in a friendly way, and she turned over, collapsing onto her back, arms and legs spread in the classic starfish pose, and stared at an indefinite spot on the wooden ceiling, wondering what she would do now that she had reached this point.
Charlie stroked her forehead in a vain attempt to calm her, but she was far away, unreachable, outside that otherworldly realm and catapulted inside her own mind. There was certainly a medical term or a long German word to define her current psychological state, but she had only one way to put it: SHE WAS FUCKED, and not in a pleasant way.
"I'm sorry," she whispered to her. "I thought I was only bringing Alastor back, and instead I unintentionally brought you with him."
She shook her head, disconsolate, almost as if to calm herself. "Yes... it was his fault if... WAIT, WHAT DID YOU DO?!"
The words had reached her brain a few seconds late, and she shot up with such speed that she bumped heads with the other girl, and they both found themselves rubbing their aching foreheads.
"Ah, ah, ah, hilarious," Alastor commented, leaning gracefully on the edge of the couch behind him. "I think I'm no longer the object of your hatred."
Sam, now out of control, stood up, ready to attack him again. "I'll smash you!"
"Ooh, extreme, perverse sex," the spider commented with a smile, showing a shining golden tooth. "Finally, someone who melts Smiles."
"Ah, disgusting," he commented, turning his back on him.
She was being held back by the two girls, who were begging her to calm down in every way possible.
"I'll disintegrate you! I'll shove that damn cane right up your..."
"Yeah, go get her, babe! I like this girl," the arachnid shouted again, interrupting her verbal diarrhea.
The cat put a hand to his temples, massaging them. "I'm getting a drink, anyone want one?"
 
 
 
It took at least half an hour to calm her down, and even longer to explain everything that had happened, but eventually, she regained a sort of composure, perhaps more dictated by the trauma she'd suffered than by any real acceptance of the situation.
Alastor had retreated, suddenly uninterested in her presence, and she was left with the other four, while Niffty had vanished the moment she identified a nest of bedbugs to hunt.
"You really can't imagine how sorry I am!" Charlie kept repeating.
She nodded gloomily, too tired even to try to answer her, despite the fact that Charlie seemed genuinely mortified by the huge mistake she’d made.
"I told you we should have just left him there," Husk muttered, taking another drink from his bottle and leaning an elbow on the bar counter.
Vaggie rolled her good eye up to the ceiling. "The Extermination is in four months; we can't afford to lose an ally like Alastor, however unusual he is."
She knew she should investigate the "Extermination" question, but she chose not to add any more weight to her already shattered psyche; better not to ask for once.
"Guys, I think the girl's checked out," Angel chimed in, popping up in front of her face and nearly tickling her nose with his white hair tuft.
She, in fact, had remained silent the whole time, trying to sort out the thoughts and information she'd received. Charlie had explained to her, in the most understandable terms possible, that Alastor had been missing for two months, and Sam had therefore deduced that time passed differently between the human world and Hell. The blonde demoness had then tried to contact him with little success until she found an Otherworldly Summoning Pentagram hidden under the red demon's desk, describing it as a sort of "elevator" to the human world, only usable if someone on Earth summoned you. Sam wanted to retort that she never imagined a Ouija board drawn on a pizza box would actually work, but she finally nodded, letting her continue. Charlie then went on to say that she had used her power to summon the demon back and that, in the process, she had inadvertently dragged Sam into this place too.
"I swear, I didn't expect to be able to drag an unconverted soul along too!"
Sam was so defeated she couldn't stop smiling, to the point of looking like a knock-off version of the Radio Demon.
"I understand, really," she mumbled in a monotone voice. "Can I use the elevator to go home now?"
Please tell me it still works, please tell me it still works, please tell me that damn passage still works.
Charlie paled so much that even the bright red dots on her cheeks seemed to fade. "Well, you see... passages like that can only be used once... and it closed itself back up..."
Fine, that was too much. She had finally reached the peak of her tolerance for absurd situations and stood up with unreal calmness, beginning to walk like a ghost around the room under the astonished gaze of the others.
"So, let me recap for a second," she breathed, running her hands through her hair. "In less than twenty-four hours, I met a demon, that demon wanted my soul but I had nothing to ask for, so he latched onto me like a tick" as she spoke, she counted on her fingers and her voice became increasingly high-pitched "then the nice guy almost choked my ex by popping out of my own shadow, gave me unsolicited lessons on etiquette, and, not content with that, dragged me here once you called him back. Did I forget anything?!" By this point, her voice sounded more like a choked, hysterical hiss.
Angel raised a hand, barely concealing an amused smile. "You forgot that the portal is closed."
"Angel, for fuck's sake!" Vaggie snapped.
"Bingo! You're right! I forgot the cherry on top of the shit-sundae these last few hours have been!" she exploded, collapsing face-first onto the couch. "Cat, the next round's on me, he won a prize."
Husk sighed, annoyed. "Look, I know the situation is tough, but look on the bright side, at least you didn't sell your soul to him."
She popped up over the back of the couch, feeling her eyes bug out of her sockets; she must have looked completely crazy because the cat demon started bristling. "Oh, yes, you're right, a true note in the off-key melody of my life. You won a prize too, thank you!"
Vaggie, who had been silent until then, came closer and sat at the end of the couch near her legs. "The situation definitely isn't the best, but you're still alive in your world, so maybe we can find a way to send you home. We just need a little time."
That was a poor consolation, even though she was wondering how long she'd survive without food or water if no one found her. The only person who might look for her was Alice, since her mother had passed away a few years ago and her father had been missing for more than fifteen. She wouldn't even be able to see her mother in this place, as she was certain she couldn't be in Hell.
She pushed the thought of her mother away with all her strength; it wasn't the time to give in to the grief she still felt over her loss.
She shot upright as an idea flashed through her brain. "What if a friend of mine tried to summon my spirit? I mean, I could use a passage again then."
"Negative, babe, only Overlords like Alastor can pull that trick. Us poor souls are stuck here," Angel replied, taking another sip of his drink.
She let her face drop back onto the cushions and blew out all the air in her lungs. Alice might even try to contact her that way, but even if she did, Sam wouldn't be able to answer.
"Charlie, do you think your dad could help her?" Husk asked.
She looked up from the cushion to see the demon's reaction; Charlie had slumped into the armchair opposite them, fiddling with her red pants. "I don't think that's a great idea. I don't think he knows anything about it, and besides, he wouldn't take kindly to an intrusion like this in his kingdom."
Sam gave her a puzzled look. "Kingdom?"
Her field of vision was suddenly invaded by Alastor's figure, and she had yet another heart-stopping moment; if that's what she could call the beat she felt in her chest, given that she was now nothing more than a soul, however tangible and seemingly made of flesh and bones.
"Ma chérie, she is Charlotte Morningstar," Alastor replied, as if she should understand simply from the name who she was.
She looked at him ironically. "Should that mean something to me?"
The Radio Demon dramatically slapped a hand to his forehead. "You humans have definitely lost a lot of ground when it comes to knowledge of your own religion. You are in the presence of Lucifer's daughter" he boomed, moving to her right and indicating the demon who had timidly raised a hand and was giving a strained smile.
At this point, she shouldn't even be surprised anymore, but she found herself with her mouth wide open, unable to utter a single syllable, trying not to let her jaw drop.
Alastor returned to looking at his hand with a bored air. "However, let's not forget that you still owe me a pact, and I have no intention of giving it up, especially now that we're back in my home."
That same blind fury invaded her chest again, and she stood up to confront him as best she could, even though her head barely reached his chin. "Listen, you time-yellowed grin, at this point, I don't have much to lose, so I might as well tell you. Get the hell out of my face, or I swear I'll knock your teeth out with a beating, and then we'll see if you're still smiling!" she hissed furiously, pointing her index finger threateningly at him, earning only an indifferent puff from the demon in response. "And for heaven's sake, buy a toothbrush and use it!"
Probably no one had ever dared so much with the Overlord, because everyone stood motionless, as if ready to bolt at any moment, but she now felt she had to at least try to confront him, even if it meant seriously pissing him off.
Alastor's eyes narrowed into two scarlet slits, and his smile tightened, hiding his teeth. "Careful, ma belle. Few have dared to speak to me that way, and none have ever survived to tell the tale."
"And what are you going to do? Kill me? I don't think you can kill a soul!"
A hand tapping her shoulder startled her, and she found Angel behind her, his hand near his mouth in a futile attempt to be heard only by her. "Actually, souls can totally die, just so you know."
Shit, she thought, feeling her heart sink, as she tucked her head into her shoulders and deflated like a punctured balloon.
"Alastor, that's enough!" Charlie's voice suddenly deepened, and when Sam turned to look at her, she saw horns begin to grow on her forehead and her eyes turn dark and furious. "As Princess of Hell, I forbid you to kill her!"
Saved by Lucifer's daughter. That's a story to tell if anyone would believe me, she thought, shooting Charlie a look filled with gratitude mixed with astonishment at the form she had just taken. In theory, she should have been scared, but by now she was used to seeing things that normal human beings couldn't even imagine.
The Radio Demon turned to her with a composed air, giving a slight head bow that seemed more like a way to mock her than a real sign of submission. "Aux commandes, Princess."
He vanished into the shadows in less than a second, and Sam was still left with her finger pointed at nothing, unable to move a single muscle.
Husk wiped his mouth with his arm after taking yet another sip of his drink. "Do you think he actually speaks French, or does he just throw out random words to sound impressive?"
 
 
 
Charlie had asked Niffty to prepare a room for her so she could rest and she breathed a sigh of relief seeing that at least this one wasn't painted in dark, reddish colors; she'd had enough of red. It was bigger than her apartment, with smoke-grey walls and golden windows. The four-poster bed was covered in black sheets that, strangely, weren't saturated with the smell of sulfur, and she collapsed onto it, staring at the ceiling above her.
She still hadn't completely rationalized what had happened to her in the span of a day, and she didn't really think she was capable of it either. The only silver lining was that, as scary as they were, the other guests seemed nice, unlike Alastor.
She tiredly rubbed her eyes with her fingers, letting out yet another sigh for the day. Sam felt exhausted, but sleep didn't want to take her in, also thanks to the strange light coming from outside. She got up and closed the thick, dark velvet curtains, letting the shadows deepen even more in the room, and threw herself back on the bed, noticing a small radio on the bedside table.
At least there's music here too, a small comfort, she thought to herself, turning the knobs to see if she could find a radio station.
 
Don't need reason, don't need rhyme
Ain't nothin' I'd rather do Goin' down, party time
My friends are gonna be there too, yeah
 
A bead of sweat form on her left temple as she began to realize what song it was.
 
I'm on the highway to hell
On the highway to hell
Highway to hell
I'm on the highway to hell
 
She suppressed the urge to grab the object and throw it across the room and got up to go look at the bathroom; she needed to do something to avoid smashing her head against a wall. Even the radio seemed to be mocking her at that moment, just to add insult to injury.
 
Hey Satan, payin' my dues
Playin' in a rocking band
Hey momma, look at me
I'm on my way to the promised land, wow
 
A sound like a growl escaped her throat as the song continued to play relentlessly throughout the room, and she found herself wondering if Alastor himself had influenced the broadcast just to get on her nerves. She turned on the light in the small bathroom and found it quite comfortable, especially since she hadn't lived in luxury for the past few years.
 
Highway to hell (I'm on the highway to hell)
Highway to hell (highway to hell)
Highway to hell (I'm on the highway to hell)
 
Finally, the song came to its conclusion, and she could return to the room and hope that the next one would be better. Touching her pant pocket, she realized she still had her cell phone and looked at it hopefully.
Sure, your carrier is definitely sophisticated enough to get reception even in Hell... try again, you'll be luckier, she mentally scoffed at herself, seeing that the device, though functional, had no signal. At least she still had her beloved playlist even in Hell; she could consider that a positive note.
"Welcome back dear listeners, did you miss me?"
Alastor's voice came from the switched-on device and she flinched for the millionth time in twenty-four hours. She couldn't tell if it was a real radio broadcast or just another way the demon had of pissing her off.
"I took a little vacation, but now I'm back with you to cheer you up on these hot days..." he continued serenely, as if addressing a large audience. She thus deduced that it must not be a joke.
"...I dedicate the previous song to today's new arrivals, I hope you enjoyed the journey to get here because you'll be staying for a long time."
She clenched her jaw to keep from screaming and heard her teeth grind together, and finally decided to turn off that damned contraption, lying down again and trying to be taken by sleep in every possible way.
She just needed to act as she always had, bury the problem and pretend it didn't exist; it would be enough to close herself off as she was used to doing and hide behind a mask of irony and anger.
In that darkness, far from home, her inner demons seemed to have awakened stronger than before; perhaps helped by the place she was in right now. Her mother's face appeared in her mind and a solitary tear rolled down her left eye, streaking her cheek and wetting the pillow. It was perhaps the second tear she had shed for her; she hadn't even been able to cry at the funeral. Everyone expected it, but she hadn't managed to, not even when they put the coffin in the ground. She had even consoled a friend of her mother's who kept despairing, as if the one being buried wasn't even her relative. For that attitude she had received looks of disapproval from some distant relatives, but she had decided to ignore them, just as she ignored the problem of death.
After all, her mother was no longer suffering and was probably better off than in life; therefore, it made no sense for her to cry over something like that.
Be honest, you were relieved by her death a malicious little voice hissed in her head, forcing her to sit up abruptly and take her head in her hands. Two more tears fell from her eyes, this time charged with anger rather than pain.
Maybe, after all, she deserved to be in Hell.
 
 
 
So ya-, so ya wanna fight me, are you big enough?
Kick the back of my knee, are you serious?
 
Was she still dreaming or was she awake? She had fallen asleep after hours and was quite sure she could hear familiar music reaching her ears. Had it all been a dream? Was she finally home?
 
Run little girl, run little girl, bang, ha
 
She had to open her eyes, yet once she did she found herself still in the dark as if she had practically gone blind.
 
SAY THAT AGAIN,
I DIDN'T QUITE HEAR YA
MESSED WITH THE WRONG BITCH IN THE WRONG ERA
 
The music had suddenly turned up, making her jump and fall out of bed, and she realized that in her sleep she must have burrowed under the thick black covers; that's why she couldn't see anything even after opening her eyes. In front of her face, she found a familiar pair of legs, clad in black trousers.
No, please, not first thing in the morning too, she thought dejectedly, letting her gaze travel from the crumpled edge of the crimson jacket up to the red bow tie. She was greeted by Alastor's dazzling smile, who had her cell phone in his hand and had started the song just to irritate and wake her up in that barbaric way.
 
Come at me, don't tell me I didn't warn ya
 
Lying supine, she bent one arm, resting her elbow on the floor and placing her chin on the palm of her hand, while with the fingers of the other she nervously drummed on the carpet, keeping her eyes fixed on Alastor.
"If you need to update your musical tastes, all you have to do is ask, there's no need to steal my cell phone."
He let out an amused grin. "Ma chérie, my listeners are accustomed to quality broadcasts and not... screaming... or at least not this kind," he replied, alluding to something Sam couldn't grasp.
She stood up and pushed her hair back with one hand, running it through, letting out the first exhausted sigh of the day. "Anyway, etiquette doesn't allow intrusions into others' rooms without an invitation, are you aware of that?"
"I came to make sure you slept well and to inform you that if you're hungry, you'll find everything downstairs."
She doubted that was the real reason for his solitary visit and crossed her arms over her chest, looking at him sideways. "Spit it out, what do you really want?"
The room suddenly seemed to grow darker as the demon leaned closer to her face with a malicious look. "I'm primarily here to remind you that even though the little princess has forbidden me from killing you, I can still make you suffer in ways you can't even imagine. Address me again as you did yesterday and I will make you go through things you can't even imagine, tu m'entends?"
She should have been thinking of a myriad of things at that moment, but one in particular had jumped into her mind when the demon had approached her like that, which was indicative of her precarious mental state.
"But... did you brush your teeth?"

Notes:

And I'm back! Alastor playing with a cell phone despite his hatred of technology? Yes, but only to annoy poor Samantha.
Now he's really in trouble and will have to do his best to try and get out of this unpleasant situation. How will he fare in this new reality?
Find out in the next episode!
As always, I want to thank my readers <3
See you soon!

Chapter 6: I (don’t) wanna be your slave

Notes:

Circus – Britney Spears
I wanna be your slave - Maneskin

After telling him that sentence, Alastor had literally vanished into the shadows, and she had remained motionless for seconds that felt like hours, continuing to wonder why she could never keep her damn mouth shut. She must have touched a sore spot for the demon, and she had to make a note of that for when she wanted to properly retort.
Oh sure, keep provoking the demon, that’ll make sure he kills you, the little voice of her conscience mumbled, bringing her back to reason.
She quickly washed her face and went downstairs, where she found only Husk waiting behind the bar.
“Good morning,” she greeted him timidly, holding back the urge to scratch him under the chin as she did with stray cats; it wasn’t the time to make an enemy of him too.
He responded with a grunt, continuing to rub some glasses with a cloth.
“Where is everyone?” she asked, looking around bewildered, realizing they were alone.
“Vaggie and Charlie are still asleep, Niffty is hunting, and Angel is at work.”
Sam found herself blinking repeatedly as she registered what must have been only the first absurd piece of information of the day. “People work in Hell?”
“What do you think? That I serve drinks for fun?”
She retreated into her shoulders after that brusque reply. After all, it made sense that people worked in Hell; who liked doing it? It must be a sort of punishment, probably.
The bartender seemed sorry for having made her uncomfortable and lowered his ears in resignation. “Anyway, if you’re looking for something to eat, you’d better go to the kitchen. We don’t have a waitress here yet, unless you count Niffty, and trust me, you don’t want to eat anything served by her.”
She was strangely grateful for that sudden kindness; beneath that uncaring facade, a good person must be hiding.
“I just need a coffee, if you don’t mind, I’m not very hungry,” she replied, trying to give him a sweet smile.
The coffee machine was the only sound audible for quite some time, until the bartender passed her the cup, placing it on the counter in front of her.
Before she could drink, he motioned for her to lean closer. “Listen, whatever you plan to do, don’t make a deal with Alastor, even in the most desperate of scenarios. Do you understand me?”
Sam gave him a puzzled look. “I know... although I don’t think things can get any worse than this now.”
“Oh, trust me, they can! I know something about it,” he replied in a hoarse voice, before turning and disappearing.
She stayed there, twirling the coffee cup between her fingers before taking a sip and getting off the stool, starting to look around the room. She approached the main door and chose to open it slightly to peek outside the threshold.
Even before she could carefully observe her surroundings, screams, gunshots, and the distinct sound of a bomb exploding in the distance reached her ears.
“Well, no,” she commented under her breath, closing the door again. “If I don’t see it, it’s not there.”
At that point, she truly had no idea what to do, even though it seemed absurd to contemplate entertainment activities in Hell.
Television? No, too obvious, and more importantly, she certainly wouldn't find the series she had been meaning to finish for months.
Going out? Scrapped immediately after what she had heard.
Reading? That could be an option, if only she knew where the hell to get a book.
Listening to the radio? Not even if she was dead. If she heard Alastor’s voice again, she would definitely have a nervous breakdown - something that, strangely, hadn’t happened yet.
A small stage caught her attention, and she found herself looking at it with interest. It had been years since she had performed, and yet she had a wild urge to dance at that moment. After all, she had told her friend she would perform again when 'donkeys started to fly', and she had distinctly seen two little creatures with horns flying around the hotel when she came down. You couldn’t call them donkeys, but it was something, right?
Below the stage, there was a stereo and a cable to connect the phone, and she noted with pleasure that it was compatible with hers.
Whoever said iPhones are tools of the devil wasn't completely wrong, she joked mentally, climbing onto the small stage and waiting for the music to begin.
 
There's only two types of people in the world
The ones that entertain and the ones that observe
 
She let the notes carry her away as when she used to compete, launching into hip-hop and breakdancing steps she hadn’t tried in ages. There certainly wasn't enough freedom of movement in a club, and now she could only do it when she was sure she wasn't being watched.
 
I feel the adrenaline moving through my veins
Spotlight on me and I'm ready to break
I'm like a performer, the dancefloor is my stage
 
Was doing something like this absurd given her situation? Absolutely, but physically exerting herself had always helped her think more clearly. Her mother always told her that a still body led to mental stasis; you always had to move to be able to think.
 
All eyes on me in the center of the ring, just like a circus
When I crack that whip everybody gon' trip, just like a circus
 
Her mother again. Since she had arrived down there, she couldn't stop thinking about her, and her memory kept popping up at the most absurd moments. She had been at risk of not getting any sleep while her mind constantly replayed memories of her, especially during her worst times.
No, she couldn't let them come back now.
Straining her body through dance until she felt exhausted would surely help her shake off that hangover of memories that refused to stop.
 
Don't stand there watching me, follow me, show me what you can do
Everybody let go, we can make a dancefloor, just like a circus
 
Music and dance.
Her refuge and her damnation.
What she had loved and then led her to hate herself to the point where she started to think that ending up in Hell this way was a kind of divine punishment, and that staying there was the right way to atone for it.
 
So, baby, I'ma hope that you came prepared
I run that tight shift, so, beware!
 
The memory of the last competition.
That phone call.
The sound of medical machines being switched off.
 
Let's go! Let me see what you can do!
I'm running this
Li-li-li-like a circus
 
The flow of thoughts was unstoppable, and there was no movement or concentration on the steps that could halt them. She felt sucked into a vortex of memories that threatened to drown her. Everything she had repressed, all her pain and worry, had rushed back to the point where even being in the underworld took a back seat.
Someone above was truly punishing her, and this was her fitting punishment.
She had wanted everything and gotten nothing, and now she was on the lowest step, so she could clearly see where her selfish choices had led her.
 
All eyes on me in the center of the ring, just like a circus
When I crack that whip everybody gon' trip, just like a circus
 
She was in Hell, and she deserved it. Maybe spending time in this place would be almost therapeutic and would let her atone for the penalty she hadn't been able to self-inflict. A soul like hers didn't deserve anything more than this.
 
Everybody let go, we can make a dancefloor, just like a circus
 
The song ended, and she found herself on her knees with her back arched backward, her face staring at the ceiling above her as she felt her breathing accelerate and her body sweat. She was surprised to realize that souls also felt physical exertion.
Everything went haywire the moment she made that choice, and she knew it perfectly well. There was no point in continuing to hide from herself. She could fool others with her ironic spirit and jokes, but it no longer worked with her own spirit. What had happened had broken the precarious balance she had imposed on herself, and now it was collapsing like a house of cards.
Applause finally roused her from those intrusive and absurd thoughts, given her situation, and she found her cheeks flushed, not from the effort but from embarrassment.
Charlie was standing a short distance away, clapping excitedly, her eyes wide and smiling as much as her mouth.
“You’re amazing!” she trilled, practically skipping in her direction, followed by Vaggie, who gave her an approving smile.
Sam got back on her feet, dusting off her jeans and trying to fix the hair that had fallen into her face. “Um, thanks. I thought I was alone, I didn't mean to disturb.”
“What disturbance! That was incredible!” she exclaimed again.
She saw a shadow quickly disappear up the stairs. Alastor must have witnessed the scene too, hidden in the darkness.
Vaggie gave her a pat on the shoulder, almost making her cough up a lung. “We could use you as a teacher, you know, recreational activities are scarce here, not counting Charlie's redemption activities.”
Sam snapped out of it and raised her hands in a submissive gesture. “Oh no, girls, I only dance when unseen. And besides, the fact remains that sooner or later I’ll go home.”
She also registered the words 'redemption activities' in her head but avoided asking again.
Hearing those words, the princess looked down and sighed with a dejected air. “I’ll do my best, Sam, I promise you. I just need some time. It's just that with the Extermination coming, a lot of my energy is focused on the redemption activities to prevent it, but I swear I’ll do everything possible for you too.”
Okay, that was the second time she had heard those two terms. The universe was clearly telling her she needed to find out about the situation.
“What do you mean by Extermination? I mean, we’re in Hell, what else can happen?” she asked ironically, but seeing the two's expressions turn to pure anxiety, she understood that Husk was right: things could always get worse.
Charlie sat on the edge of the stage, dangling her legs, while Vaggie crouched beside her, affectionately stroking her shoulder.
“You see, Sam, every year… well, now it’s every six months, the Angels come down from Heaven to exterminate part of my people, to prevent hypothetical revolts. So, I thought that, just as my father fell from Heaven, souls could also ascend back if they proved themselves worthy. That's why I created this hotel and started a redemption path for the souls staying here.”
That annoying tic in her eyelid started again as a grotesque laugh rose from her chest, making the two turn in her direction. It had to be a joke. She didn't want to believe such an absurdity was possible; it couldn't be yet another mockery of her unfortunate destiny.
“Sam… are you okay?” Vaggie asked, raising an eyebrow.
She nodded hysterically. “Oh, yes, of course, I’m great,” she hissed. “Everything’s great, absolutely great, perfect, wonderful… how the hell can things be great, for Christ's sake?! I’m in Hell, and there are Angels - who, by the way, aren't supposed to be good, for heaven's sake?! Anyway, there are Angels coming down here to slaughter souls - souls that apparently can die. Ah, here's another question: how the hell does a soul die?! Where does it go?! To Super-Hell?! This is madness!”
Niffty arrived behind her. "This is Pentagram City!" she shrieked, jumping and giving her a light tap on the chest with one hand.
She found herself falling backward in a perfect imitation of the Persian ambassador in the movie 300, only unlike him, she didn’t end up in a well but on her butt; for the umpteenth time. Could it be that movies even reached down there? Or had some collaborator of Zack Snyder ended up there and brought the film? And why were such stupid things coming to her mind?
She got to her feet, trying to regain her composure, helped by Charlie, who assisted her in dusting herself off.
“I know it’s a lot of information to process, but I promise I’ll find a solution,” the princess continued, trying to comfort her.
However, she didn’t feel at all comforted by that answer, even though she was trying with all her might not to seem ungrateful; she was sure Charlie was doing her best and genuinely felt guilty about what had happened.
“I need ten minutes alone,” she muttered in response, picking up her phone and striding toward her room.
In the corridor, she ran into the last person she wanted to see.
Oh, stop it, you were drooling over him until yesterday, her inner voice resumed, making her even angrier, and she shot the demon a fiery glare, as if to contradict her internal monologue.
“Trouble, ma belle?” he asked ironically, turning in her direction with an elegant pirouette.
“You are my trouble,” she said in response, trying to get past him.
He blocked her way, his eyes relaxed and his smile strained. “Whether you like it or not, you’re here now, so you’d better start thinking about what you want... I’d say there’s definitely something you desire now,” he said, alluding to her wish to go home.
She wanted to reply that Hell would freeze over before she made a deal with him, but it was likely that in all this madness, there was an entire ski resort area.
“Not even if it’s the only chance I have to go home, forget it,” she hissed, rising onto her toes to face him as best she could. She said the phrase impulsively, but it was like opening a part of herself she never knew. Why, all of a sudden, had the word 'home' lost its meaning? And more importantly, why did it make her think of this place?
Alastor’s fiery eyes narrowed to a slit as he leaned toward her to tower over her. “You wouldn't want to utter words you might be forced to swallow. Sooner or later, you'll want to leave at any cost, whether from boredom or fear, and return to mommy and daddy’s arms.”
She raised a hand and struck him squarely across the face, right on the cheek, even feeling his teeth near her wrist in the heat of the moment.
Nice one, now you’re truly screwed, she thought, only realizing a second later what she had done, but the anger had been so strong that it made her act before she could think.
Alastor had turned his face and wasn't even looking at her, motionless as a statue. She hid her hands behind her back in a desperate attempt to pretend it wasn't really her who had committed that reckless act, starting to look around as if searching for the real culprit.
The lights began to flicker visibly again, while the demon seemed to vibrate in front of her eyes. Even before she could attempt to utter a simple ‘sorry’, she found herself slammed against the wall by Alastor’s tentacles with such force that it almost knocked the breath out of her. He held her face so close that only at that moment did she notice that, when he changed appearance, his pupils took the shape of radio dials.
“Do that again, and it will be the last thing you do.”
A deep and terrifying note had been added to his classic distorted tone, making her gasp more than the blow to her back.
“Please, leave me alone,” she whispered, breathless and desperate. “Why do you want my soul? There must be a thousand much more interesting ones.”
Alastor’s eyes returned to red, but he didn't stop pinning her against the wall. “My dear Sam, we are bound now. The call you made united us in a profound bond, whether you like it or not.”
She stared into his eyes and read something discordant. “There’s something else, isn’t there? There’s something you’re not telling me.”
The demon leaned in so close that for a crazy moment, she thought he was going to kiss her - and who knows what else - but when he moved his face to whisper into her ear, she was almost disappointed. She absolutely needed to see a good psychiatrist once she returned to Earth.
“You could have everything you want if you just handed over your soul to me. Think about it, ma belle.”
He vanished into thin air, and she found herself sliding down the wall until she was sitting on the floor, her heart tight in a vice and the warm chills left by the demon's breath on her neck.
 
 
 
The next day, she refused to leave her room, where she had kept the curtains closed to stay alone in the dark. Charlie and Vaggie had stopped by to leave her some clothes they no longer used, along with some underwear that apparently Angel had bought for her, and he had even guessed the right size. She should have gone down to thank him, but she didn’t feel up to it.
Her brain struggled to function and rationalize the recent events, and then there was that absurd feeling that kept clutching at her stomach.
Feeling of home, she thought, as she turned onto her side and clutched the pillow with trembling fingers.
She hadn't felt a sensation like that since her mother's death, or perhaps she had never felt it so deeply as in that moment, and she hated herself with all her being. She belonged to the world of the living; she had ended up there by a simple mistake. So why wasn't she feeling the profound fear that would grip any other being? Why, somehow, was an inner voice constantly repeating that everything would be fine? Maybe because her situation truly couldn't get worse.
No, it wasn't just that; there was something else, much more visceral, that she couldn't understand. She felt like a nomad returning home after years, only to find it more beautiful than she remembered, a feeling of familiarity that absolutely refused to leave her body. She did her best to tell herself that she had to go home, move, and seek a solution to this problem, to force the princess to get a move on; yet, she remained motionless in that bed, staring into space, the silence interrupted only by her breathing and her heartbeats.
Alastor, fortunately, had not shown up at her door, and that was the only positive note. Despite everything, there was something off about the demon's behaviour. He could have killed her, especially after she had hit him, but he hadn't. He seemed pleading, begging her to free him from a bond that she, however, didn't feel. The only thing she felt was a kind of unhealthy desire to see his face, a suicidal urge that was truly difficult to resist. Could that be the bond? No, that was out of the question for her. She had always been drawn toward stupid decisions, so this was just another idiotic choice.
You truly are self-destructive, she told herself, distraught, continuing to toss and turn in bed without finding peace, rubbing her hands over her face in search of relief from those thoughts.
Staying still wouldn’t help her; she had to find something to do. During Charlie's brief visit, she had told her about a library located on the floor above.
She quickly dressed in one of the tracksuits they had brought her - the two of them were overflowing with them and never used them - and decided to go out; not before having shot a few furtive glances to make sure she wouldn't run into the Radio Demon.
She found the elevator at the end of the corridor, and it moved with some terrifying hisses, but fortunately, it didn't get stuck. The corridor was quite dark and silent, and many of the doors seemed locked.
She tried about a dozen before finally finding one open at the end of the hallway, but she quickly realized it couldn't be the library.
A garden in a room, why am I still surprised? she thought, as she advanced cautiously. The environment was dark, and various skeletal animals hung on the walls, seeming to follow her with their gaze. There was also a desk, a double bed, and then that strange garden that emitted a greenish light, dividing the room as if with a pencil line. Driven by her stupid curiosity, she advanced a few steps, placing just the tip of her foot beyond that imaginary line, realizing that even the air seemed to change on that side. It was colder and smelled of fresh plants and freshly cut grass. It seemed like a familiar garden; maybe she had seen it in photos somewhere, or perhaps it resembled a particular movie.
She mustered the courage and placed her entire foot down, feeling the sensation of earth beneath her. Not far away, there was a weeping willow and a metal table with a single chair. It would have been the ideal environment for relaxing if she weren't terrified that something scary might emerge from the darkness beyond the plants.
“One should knock before entering other people's rooms.”
She couldn't suppress a yelp of terror upon hearing that voice and spun around, finding Alastor in the doorway, his eyes half-closed and an irritated expression.
“I was looking for the library,” she whispered, praying he wouldn't tear her apart for the intrusion. It had to be his room, and she felt terribly embarrassed.
He pointed his index finger downwards. “You went up one floor too many, ma belle.”
She found herself motionless, too afraid to walk past him to leave and, at the same time, with a great desire to run away.
“I’m sorry, I’m leaving right away,” she said, trying to move forward, but Alastor stopped her by raising a hand, and she froze in place, terrified of contradicting him again.
“First, I think it’s necessary to talk about what happened yesterday.”
Oh no, he's going to hang me on the wall like that deer, she thought, as she retreated toward the garden again, and he advanced confidently in her direction.
“There’s nothing to talk about, all resolved, I’ll never do it again, I'm sorry, I regret it, and now I’m going,” she spoke so quickly that she almost ran out of breath, but the demon was blocking her way and didn't seem inclined to let her pass.
His ears twitched nervously. “I think it is appropriate for me to apologize,” he hissed that last word with contempt. “It was undecorous of me to react so violently.”
She felt her eyes bulge out of their sockets upon hearing those words. Was he really apologizing? Was the Overlord making amends with her? No, it had to be a dream; she was probably still under the covers right now and imagining everything.
She blinked a couple of times, trying to regain the ability to speak. “I shouldn’t have hit you, we’re even,” she tried to say, although she wasn't entirely convinced. His reaction had been far too excessive, considering he probably barely felt the blow, except to his pride.
Alastor gave her a slight bow of his head. “I promise it won’t happen again, ma chérie. However, the perennial question of your soul remains…”
“Stop!” she blocked him with her hand. “You’re not getting my soul, end of discussion.”
The demon smiled. “Oh yes, you are. The sooner you decide, the sooner we’ll get out of the mess of this annoying bond.”
“Will you stop speaking in riddles? There is no bond between us; I called you by mistake! I don’t even remember doing it, and now you’ve brought me to Hell, isn’t that enough?”
In response, he shook his head. “Don’t pretend. I know you also per…” he suddenly stopped as if an interference had cut off his voice, and he sealed his mouth shut. “…perceive me as an annoying presence.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, exasperated. “On that, we agree.”
Keep telling yourself that, you’re doing great, the little voice said.
“Let’s do this: as long as you remain here, I will ask you for your soul once a day. This way, we won't find ourselves in unpleasant situations like yesterday, and we’ll both make an effort to respond politely,” he offered, holding out his hand as if inviting her to shake it.
She looked first at his hand and then at him with a sarcastic look. “Where’s the catch?”
The demon clenched his fist, narrowing his eyes. “I am offering you a peace treaty; you should be grateful.”
“Oh, you're right! Thank you for bringing me to Hell and being so terrifyingly …”, she managed to stop before her big mouth uttered the word sensual. Ever since he had been close to her and speaking so kindly, that loose screw in her brain had resumed its annoying effects, making her notice again how attractive that demon could be when he wanted.
“Yes?” he asked with a smirk.
“Heartless,” she spat out impulsively, realizing that she had probably praised him more than insulted him, given the satisfied look that appeared on his face.
“I think we’re in agreement, so without further ado. My dearest Sam, would you grant me your soul, please?” as he asked the question, he took her hand, as if to pull her closer, and she found herself moving toward him with a probable idiotic expression plastered on her face.
She managed to collect herself just enough to answer him. “No, thank you.”
The demon released her hand, putting on a dejected face. “You’re crushing me, ma belle. It would be so fulfilling for us both.”
Why did he have to behave this way? He was putting her through a real emotional rollercoaster that went from fear, then to hatred, and finally to making her feel a kind of sympathy mixed with an attraction she couldn't resist. Above all, it was obvious that he enjoyed using ambiguous terms like ‘fulfilling’ just to watch her blush.
She shrugged, pretending not to be affected by the comment. “Try again, you’ll be luckier.”
He moved closer to her face, almost brushing her with his crimson forelock. “I will do it again, rest assured.”
She swallowed the saliva that seemed stuck in her throat before regaining her senses and heading toward the exit, feeling the demon's gaze follow her every step. Even when she reached the elevator, the feeling of being watched didn't vanish, and she found herself slumping against the walls.
The feeling of home grew strong again, and she decided to let it comfort her in that moment of total confusion. She still had time; she could still catch her breath. She would give herself two months, which was twenty-four hours in the human world. Once that time was up, she would put a definitive order to her thoughts, and in the meantime, she would at least try to find a solution to return home.
The problem is, why doesn't going back seem so crucial anymore?
 
 
 
 
The following week, she spent her time giving negative answers every time the demon asked for her soul, while he, in turn, teased her with strange word games and fake arguments that amused them both. For the rest of the time, they tried to ignore each other and avoid any more physical attacks.
She had moderately accepted the idea of having to stay in Hell for a while; perhaps because, deep down, she kept thinking she truly deserved it, and, as absurd as it sounded, she was getting used to the place. Angel had proven to be pleasant company, as had Charlie - who wouldn't stop apologizing every morning - while she had established a sort of 'peace' with Husk, made up of grunts and short sentences. The only one she had little familiarity with was Vaggie, while Niffty continued to terrify her more than the Radio Demon.
As was her habit, she had shoved all her main problems to the bottom of her soul, focusing only on what was superficial and solvable in the short term.
For example, she had learned where the library was and spent most of her days there - since she had refused to go out after what she heard that first morning - and searched for information on the bond between demons and the humans who summon them, but she got no results.
Was she worried? Absolutely not. At this point, it was futile to dwell too long on the quantity of absurdities that had descended upon her. She trusted that Charlie would do her best and would surely send her home sooner or later. It had been confirmed that her mortal body would survive even without her soul, ending up in a sort of comatose state. And anyway, she had at least two months in this place before anyone broke down the door looking for her - perhaps even more. If she had been with Alastor for less than twenty-four hours and two months had passed there, all she could do was wait.
Charlie's most probable theory was that her body would eventually call her back, and she had accepted that explanation with a shrug.
It had always been that way for her; whenever a dire event came into her life, she let herself be carried by the current, waiting for it to take her to greener shores and hoping not to be tossed around too much during the journey.
Just like when mom died, she thought, trying to push those insistent images away again.
She had also formed a good relationship with almost everyone there and had to admit that this new reality was almost amusing; she would compare it to a demented sitcom with a lot of alcohol, sex, and drugs.
A knock at the door startled her from the book she was flipping through without actually reading, and she looked up to find Angel in front of her.
“Hey, babe, are you joining Charlie's redemption activities? I know you don't need them yet, but if you join now, maybe you'll get this pain in the ass over with in the future, who knows.”
She smiled sadly. “Do I have to?”
She was terrified of running into Alastor; he had been particularly vehement in asking for her soul that morning, and they had been close to killing each other.
“The Strawberry Pimp won't bother us if that's what you're worried about,” he said with the sly smile of someone who had guessed the situation. Not that it took much to understand the strange electricity between them, and Angel never missed an opportunity to point it out.
He escorted her to the hall, where Charlie had set up a whiteboard on which she was writing notes, with Vaggie always by her side.
She knew it would be polite to listen, but talking about redemption activities to escape the Extermination was one of those things that reminded her how deeply screwed she was, so she put the Bluetooth earbuds, kindly procured by Angel, in her ears, hiding them with her long hair. She kept the music low enough to catch brief snippets of conversation.
“...the main problem is that no one gives a shit about it...” Husk commented tonelessly.
Charlie looked despondent. “...the last time we did an ad, it didn't go very well...”
“...you could have used me, but instead you preferred to be a bunch of fucking prudes... how many times do I have to tell you that sex sells?”
“Angel, I'm telling you for the thousandth time, we are not making a porn video!”
She found herself laughing softly at Angel's comment, realizing that things didn't work all that differently in this place than on Earth. Meanwhile, her playlist on shuffle started playing melancholy songs, which she made sure to skip as quickly as possible before falling into the abyss of memories.
She only realized a few seconds later that everyone was staring at her, or rather, staring at a point behind the sofa where she was sitting with Angel.
She threw her head back to see what was happening and found Alastor's grin above her face. Jumping in fear would have been the behaviour of Sam seven days ago, but now she was so used to seeing him this way that she barely noticed.
She smiled back, as if to say, ‘You were hoping to scare me, weren't you, you bastard?’ but he brought a clawed hand to her face, gently pushing a lock of hair aside; so gently that she wondered if it was his strange way of asking for forgiveness for what happened that morning.
That faint hope vanished the moment he snatched the earbud and waved it in front of her nose.
“If someone is speaking, it would be polite to listen” he chided her ironically.
In response, she simply stuck her tongue out, snatched the earbud back, and sat up straight so she wouldn't have to look at him.
“However, perhaps our new and impolite friend could be of help this time, given that advertising seems to be her field”
You smug son of a bitch, she thought, enraged; he had cornered her to force her to participate and for the pure pleasure of seeing her struggle.
Charlie approached her, hopeful. “Really? Could you help us?”
Her eyes were so pleading that telling her she wanted nothing to do with it seemed terribly cruel. Lucifer's daughter was the sweetest and most tender creature she had ever met in her life and refusing her anything seemed impossible; perhaps that was precisely why someone like Alastor found himself working in a place like this.
“Well… I don't know what the tastes are like here... I mean, you'd need market research, data projections, and above all, an idea that sells”
Angel tried to open his mouth but was instantly incinerated by Vaggie's icy glare.
Meanwhile, the song she was listening to in one ear continued to play.
 
…I'm the devil who's searching for redemption…
…motherfucking monster who's searching for redemption…
 
What sold to the world more than music, a captivating dance, and a pretty face? Social media had completely overturned the way advertising was done in the world, and this could be the ideal solution.
“Angel, how famous are you?” she asked him with a confident smile.
The demon combed his hair with two pairs of arms, while pointing to himself with the remaining two. “Babe, I'm the most desired thing in the whole damn Hell after coke.”
In one go, she had: foiled Alastor's plan to make her look like an idiot, found something to occupy herself with for a few hours to eliminate intrusive thoughts, and created her first ad. Not bad for someone who had been delayed in her university studies for a year.
The plan was very simple: they would create a music video, using only a few parts of the song to advertise the hotel. The video could also go viral on social media; dance challenges were quite popular even in Hell, and this was a way to spread the word even more.
Vaggie and Charlie insisted that she direct the choreography, followed by some weak complaints from Angel, who said he was already a sex bomb without needing to learn new steps. Husk set up the small stage with some orange-toned backgrounds - in Sam's mind, they were supposed to represent the transition from the red of Hell to the light of Heaven - with the help of Niffty, who cleaned everything around her.
Alastor was sitting comfortably in an armchair, observing the scene with curiosity, his head resting lazily on his hand. She shot him a few nasty looks, but he either ignored her or responded by widening his smile and narrowing his eyes even further.
I'll show you, you bigmouth, I'm going to make you look like a complete idiot, she thought, satisfied, as she meticulously organized everything.
“Hey, buddy! Could you at least try to do something? Like getting us a microphone and other useful crap?” Angel yelled at Alastor.
The demon, in response, snapped his fingers, and everything necessary appeared before them, including some technicians who had come from some corner of that dimension.
“It’s all yours, although I think this is a waste of time and energy” he said, looking at his fingernails nonchalantly.
Sam gritted her teeth and pretended not to hear him, stepping onto the stage with Angel, who had offered to sing as well as be the face of this bizarre campaign.
Charlie nervously wrung her hands. “Maybe we should have him wear something more modest? And isn’t plagiarism illegal?”
She smiled encouragingly. “The clothes are fine, don't worry, and as for plagiarism, you can pay the rights to Måneskin in a few years. Judging by how their lives are going, I think you'll see them around here soon”
Angel settled onto the stage next to her, and she began to give him some directions.
“...then, you bend backward like this” she explained calmly, showing him how to bend to do the step.
He waved all four hands. “Yeah, babe, it's fine. Are we going to try it, or not? The whole thing, so we can cut what we need later.”
She looked at him puzzled. “But we practically only need the chorus.”
“Just let me have a little fun in this damn Hell” he mumbled.
She found herself forced to nod, exasperated; Angel was definitely a diva.
The lights went out, and the spotlights turned on in the porn star's direction, while she remained in front so as not to be in the frame.
 
I wanna be your slave,
I wanna be your master
I wanna make your heartbeat run like rollercoasters
 
The music started, and Angel performed the most sensual steps she had ever seen, completely ignoring her directions. He was clearly using the lyrics of the song to give suggestive looks to the bartender, who visibly blushed and started twitching his ears nervously.
Sam tried to grab his attention to prevent the video from turning into a porn film, but he ignored her completely.
 
I love you since this morning, not just for aesthetic
I wanna touch your body, so fucking electric
I know you're scared of me, you say that I'm too eccentric (…)
I wanna be your sinner, I wanna be a preacher
I wanna make you love me, then I wanna leave ya
 
From her position, she found herself looking at Alastor, whose eyes seemed to have stopped being bored, and he was leaning on his staff with both hands, tilting his torso forward, as if to enjoy the show more.
I'll show you how to dance, she thought, as a satisfied smile spread across her face.
 
Because I'm the devil who's searching for redemption
And I'm a killer who's searching for redemption
A motherfucking monster who's searching for redemption
And I'm a bad guy who's searching for redemption
And I'm a blonde girl who's searching for redemption
And I'm a freak that is searching for redemption
 
The music was taking hold of her more than expected, and she found herself letting go again, just as she had a few days earlier, under the admiring gaze of Angel, who began to follow her movements as he belted out the song. They both dropped to their knees, pretending to violently punch the floor beneath them with a closed fist, opening and closing their legs to the rhythm of the music, and then immediately stretching their backs backward and almost touching the floor with their heads. Sam felt the Radio Demon's gaze intensifying on her, and this pushed her to give even more.
She caressed herself, ran her hands through her hair, and, wanting to challenge him, kept her eyes fixed on Alastor's vermillion ones. He had provoked her, and now he would get her best revenge.
Meanwhile, he had spread his arms, resting them on the back of the armchair, and kept his legs wide apart, almost as if trying to relax.
Defeat stings, huh? she thought, increasingly satisfied with her work.
 
And if you want to use me,
I could be your puppet
 
She noticed that Angel had given an even more suggestive look to Husk, whose face seemed to be affected by visible electric shocks.
But that wasn't what caught her attention the most. She was almost completely sure that Alastor had mumbled that line of the song right while looking at her and narrowed his eyes suggestively.
You're seeing things, stop making up scenarios and focus on the work, she told herself, dismissing the idea that he could have done something like that.
However, she found herself moving, swaying her hips even more without taking her eyes off him, while she suggestively ran a hand down her neck and threw her head back, then began to form waves with her body and arms. She tightened her legs and started waving her hips in circles, following the movements with her fingers, as she saw those red eyes blaze.
 
A motherfucking monster who's searching for redemption
 
The guitar and drum solos became more intense, signaling the arrival of the end of the song, and before it finished, she performed a final split.
You stupid idiot, you didn't warm up enough, the voice in her head screamed, as she felt a terrible pain run along her inner thigh up to her groin. She clearly saw Alastor’s breathing quicken, and this confirmed that she had defeated him. She had managed to piss him off without needing to challenge him openly, and this made a corner of her mouth stretch into a malicious smile, her eyes still fixed on his.
She wanted to stand up and gloat a little, but her legs weren't responding, and she found herself stuck in that absurd position, having to pretend everything was fine so as not to look like an idiot.
Charlie and Vaggie ran to check the video results on the camera, thrilled, while Husk silently slipped away, although it was evident that he had somehow appreciated Angel's attention.
The spider demon approached her, crossing two arms over his chest and putting the others on his hips. “You’re stuck, aren’t you?” he whispered, probably to avoid embarrassing her further.
She sighed resignedly. “Please, don’t comment, and pull me up without making a fuss.”
Angel barely managed to stifle his laughter at the scene but tried to help her as best he could, and those two extra arms proved essential for the success of the plan.
When she managed to get to her feet, amidst one agonizing pain and another, Charlie invited her to watch the video.
“Isn't it too… too much? I mean, don't get me wrong, it's fantastic, but I wouldn't want the meaning to be misinterpreted…” she asked, concerned.
Angel snorted impatiently. “Charlie, if you don't use it, I swear I'll take it to Val, and trust me, at that point, it could be misinterpreted.”
“It's fine, just cut out some parts, and you'll see that just the chorus will be perfect” Vaggie encouraged her, then gave a thumbs-up to Sam and Angel.
She watched the video, realizing that she appeared in several parts, but she hoped that good editing would cut her out with excellent results. “Just add a few slogans like ‘Your redemption at the Hazbin Hotel’ or something similar; you’ll see, people will come.”
Husk peeked over the screen. “Assuming they don't think Angel will be the one enacting this redemption.”
Angel gave him a suggestive look. “Oh, Whiskers, I do a lot of things, but you definitely won't find redemption in bed with me; at most, I can…”
The bartender covered his ears. “Please, stop with the filthy bullshit!”
Sam wanted to tell him that he seemed to have appreciated it earlier, but the sight of Alastor walking away caught her attention. He had sat down at the bar stool and was sipping his usual whiskey with his back to the group.
She left them to their animated discussion, as Angel continued to repeat how many cocks they would soon have at the hotel, eliciting Charlie's embarrassment and a frustrated sigh from Vaggie.
She sat down on the stool next to the Overlord, resting her elbow on the counter and leaning toward him to try to get his attention.
“That's dancing,” she quoted him to tease him.
He didn't spare her a glance, keeping his eyes half-closed and fixed on the glass. “Ha, ha, ha, I would call that more of an obsessive and uncoordinated wriggling devoid of any sense.”
“Defeat stings, huh?” she pressed, reaching across the counter to get some water.
When she looked back at him, his eyes were turned toward her and again seemed to shine. “You think that’s what stings?”
For the first time, not counting when he appeared in his human form, she heard him speak without that distorted tone, and she found herself clenching her jaw so it wouldn't drop in astonishment. She couldn't tell if it was a good sign or if she had somehow wounded his ego to the point of making him go mad again. And she struggled to grasp the meaning of that sentence; he certainly enjoyed teasing her, but he had never given her clear and definitive signals that might make her think that he also found her attractive in some way - just vague phrases and thrown-out glances, perhaps only to make her nervous. Right?
She tried to maintain her composure, since for once, she was the one with the advantage. “Of course, what else?”
She chose to pretend she hadn't heard him speak that way and took a sip of water, momentarily losing focus on his smiling face, but when she looked back, she was certain that he was scrutinizing her intently. She was wearing dark athletic pants and a matching tank she wondered if he was truly looking at her or just happened to be staring at a random spot.
“Ma chérie, you haven't defeated me. I still have many cards to play; you just have to stay tuned to discover them all” he replied confidently, quickly recovering his superior tone, and immediately vanished into the shadows.
Husk came up behind her. “Um, they need your help over there.”
She nodded, getting up from the chair, still confused by what had happened in those ten minutes, but before she walked away, the bartender stopped her.
“If you think Alastor is interested in anything other than your soul, get that thought out of your head immediately. That’s a friend's advice. He has a lot of obscenities in mind, but not the kind you might like.”
She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat upon hearing those words, while Husk's eyes seemed to be scrutinizing her with concern.
A note to self: talk to him to figure out how much he knows about Alastor, she thought, as she gave him a grateful smile and nodded.
“Oh come on, Charlie! ‘Redemption comes from this hole’ isn’t a bad slogan!” Angel shouted.
Vaggie, now exasperated, let out a guttural growl full of frustration. “Sam! Damn it, get over here and help us talk some sense into him, rapido!”

Notes:

Hello everyone!
As far as I'm concerned, the verses of the Maneskin song fit perfectly as a description of our beloved protagonists, but I'll leave it up to you to decide who could be who and if they are accurate.
All joking aside, I swear to you that the ball/dance in general makes sense for the plot, but I can't tell you much yet so as not to spoil anything.
The attraction between Sam and Alastor is getting stronger, and who knows why she feels strangely at home in that place. The hotel residents are doing their best to make her feel like a welcome guest, and she even managed to give a great idea for the publicity!
See you soon! :D
P.S. Maneskin fans, don't kill me, Sam's was just a joke!

Chapter 7: Take it off

Another week passed, and the commercial they had shot was due out in six days, and for some strange reason, Sam was buzzing with excitement. The rational part of her brain kept sending signals telling her she was overdoing it with this Hell vacation, but she was doing her best to ignore it.
A sort of pleasant routine had dragged her far away from the main problem. In the morning, she'd be at the bar with Husk, who, however, refused to give her any more information about Alastor. Afterward, she'd head to the library, pretending to read when she was actually indulging in her main passion for dancing away from prying eyes. She'd have lunch with Charlie and Vaggie and explain marketing techniques to them, with the princess frantically taking notes. In the evenings, she'd chat with Angel by the lit fireplace and sip a few drinks, as he was forced to work during the day.
That afternoon, she and Charlie had locked themselves in the library, lazily leafing through books to find a way to send her home, but the more time passed, the harder it became for her to even imagine her life without these bizarre people. She kept telling herself that the right thing to do was to return to Earth, but there was something much more instinctual that made her feel safe in a place like this. It was a feeling she had never experienced anywhere else on the planet; therefore, she had stopped talking too much with Charlie about her return and advised her to focus on her hotel redemption activities. That day, however, the Princess of Hell wouldn't take no for an answer and had closed herself in there with her to help.
As she looked through pentagrams and self-help books, she saw Charlie let out a strangled growl, then slump face-down onto a book.
"Nothing, not a single piece of information! There's not even a mention of transporting a living soul to Hell! They almost all talk about the Grimoire, but that's only for bringing souls to Earth, not putting them back into the body."
"What if I just walk up to my body and lie down on it?"
"It doesn't work that way, Sam. The body isn't like a pair of pants you can just slip on whenever you want. If the soul left the body, some bond was broken, and that needs to be fixed first. For now, the most plausible hypothesis is that the body will call you back to it eventually."
She pretended to be disappointed, but she could feel her lips stretching into a satisfied little smile. "Maybe we should look at things from another perspective," she was about to suggest thinking about the bond that might exist between her and Alastor, given that he was the one who first mentioned it, but the princess stretched out on the table on her back, then let her head hang backward over the edge. "Um... that wasn't exactly what I meant, but it's an approach."
After all, she was fine with pretending to search and allowing herself a little more time to stay there with them.
Sure, Sam, great idea! Why don't you even buy a house? The rational part of her brain grumbled, but she ignored it. She lay down next to the princess, and they stared together at the wall full of books from that strange position.
"Any ideas?" the demoness asked.
She shook her head. "No, but it's strangely relaxing."
Charlie laughed in amusement. "Be honest with me, are you enjoying yourself here? It's strange for a living person to settle in the way you are."
"Strange is my middle name, so I'm not that surprised," she replied, trying to make a joke of it.
The princess turned to her with a worried look, her long blonde hair dragging on the floor with every movement. "Seriously, why?"
"And why haven't you tried asking your father? Are you worried about having me here?" a pathetic attempt to shift the conversation, which seemed to work.
Charlie wrinkled her nose, then closed her eyes in dejection. "Since my parents divorced, we haven't had much of a relationship, and I don't know how he'd take it finding out a living soul from Earth is in Hell; I wouldn't want to get you into a worse situation than this. You know, having a soul that's still alive is like 'cheating'; you see your future in advance and could change your path just to avoid ending up here. Your only luck is that since you're just a soul, no one can notice you're still alive unless they know it directly from us."
"You think he'd put me on trial?" She was joking again, but the princess's serious look was a clear affirmative signal. "Alright, I won't ask anything else."
"And I also don't want him to think I can't manage on my own. If things don't improve, I'll be forced to call him for a meeting in Heaven, and I don't want him to think I'm not up to the task"
"Daddy issues?"
She flinched, pulling herself back up into a sitting position, while Sam chose to stay upside down a little longer with her hands clasped on her stomach.
"Maybe just a little something," she laughed nervously. "What about you? Your father?"
"It's hard to have problems with someone who isn't there. Let's just say I've been fatherless for sixteen years and motherless for two," she blurted out.
She felt the princess's hand stroke hers and squeeze it. "I'm sorry, I didn't know."
She decided to sit up, also because her head was starting to feel quite heavy, and gave her a reassuring smile. "Water under the bridge, it's all fine."
From Charlie's red eyes, Sam could see the desire to probe further, but thankfully she didn't; talking about her parents was not her favourite topic.
Dinner time arrived more quickly than expected, and she was surprised to see Alastor emerge from the kitchen in a nice apron and settle down in a corner to eat. During that week, their conversations had been short and all revolved around the same thing: he would start with ‘Give me your soul,’ she would reply ‘No’ and they would go their separate ways. Other than that, she could only sense his shadow behind her occasionally, almost like a stalker, but nothing too dramatic. It was evident, at least to Angel, that something constantly seemed to draw them toward each other despite them usually ending up arguing. The celebrity never stopped repeating ‘Those who despise, buy’ with an allusive air, but she quickly dismissed him. It was true that, whenever she and Alastor were too close, they seemed to spark, even if not always in a positive sense. A strange relationship had developed between them, made up of little squabbles that amused them both, and the tension of the first day seemed to have vanish.
After dinner, almost everyone retired; only she and Angel remained for their nightcap, sitting on the red sofas next to each other, while he complained about his terrible workday.
"Is there really no way to get free?" she asked him point-blank, trying not to look at him as she asked. She knew how delicate that topic was for him.
The celebrity sighed, running a hand through the tuft of fur on his head. "Sweetheart, a deal is eternal, and I sold my soul too long ago to get out of it easily. My only hope is that this redemption plan works, so that bastard can't reach me anymore."
They both sank into the armchair, and she stared at the crackling flames in front of her, thanking the tequila again for making her pass out and preventing her from making any deal with Alastor.
Charlie and Vaggie arrived, already in their pyjamas, looking at them curiously.
"Having a slumber party without us?" Charlie joked, sitting on the floor in front of them.
Angel smiled mischievously. "We would never interrupt your nighttime sessions."
Vaggie rolled her good eye to the ceiling. "We're not all constantly horny like you."
"And where's the fun in that then?" he challenged her. "You don't want to be like the pimp dressed in red. He's so full of himself that he probably masturbates looking at his own reflection."
Charlie turned crimson. "Angel... I don't think Alastor is generally interested in... intimate relations."
Sam suddenly found herself attentive to the conversation, although she tried her best not to show it. Finally, she could gather some information about that conceited demon without being the first to mention him.
You’re interested in talking about him because you've found him attractive since day one, the usual little voice whispered, but she did her best to ignore it, even as she felt her cheeks flush.
"What do you mean? That he's asexual?" she tried to say, then tried to show false disinterest in the answer by getting up to get another drink.
Angel, however, had started to know her too well to miss that reaction. "Uh oh, so you really like the handsome, smiling bad boy."
She froze on the spot with the bottle mid-air, not daring to turn around to see his usual smug grin of: ‘I'm messing with you and enjoying it’.
"Don't talk crap," she muttered, realizing that since she'd been in that place, her curse word kill count had skyrocketed. "I was just curious; he never opens up."
When she sat back down, Angel gave her a friendly nudge in the ribs. "And you'd like to unbutton him, huh? Maybe we'll find out if his dick lights up too..."
"Angel!" all three of them yelled in unison, receiving a huff from the celebrity in response.
"Prudes."
Sam stretched out on the sofa, putting her legs on him. "And what about Husk? I've seen the way you two look at each other," she teased him.
It was the damned soul's turn to blush, but he quickly recovered his composure, hiding behind his usual allusive behaviour. "What can I say, I have a certain preference for furries."
"In your dreams," Husk replied, walking through the room with a pillow in hand.
Angel dismissed him with a gesture. "Oh, dear Husk, I know you're the one dreaming of me, who wouldn't for a body like this?"
The bartender responded with a low growl and disappeared again after grabbing his inseparable flask, but not before flipping him the middle finger.
Sam, fueled by the third drink, leaned toward the three of them to whisper.
"Listen, can I confide a secret?" she asked.
It was Vaggie's turn to tease her. "If you tell me you and Alastor did something, I don't want to know."
She gave her an ironic smile. "No, nothing like that. It's just that he said something strange a while ago; he said that we're linked because of my 'call'. Is that possible?"
Charlie massaged her chin thoughtfully. "There aren't many books or information on these things; after all, very few Overlords go up to Earth, and they certainly don't go around talking about it. From what I know, they return with a sealed deal and a soul to claim at the moment of death. Maybe he meant that?"
She shook her head in response. "No, I'm sure he was talking about something else."
"Sam and Alastor sitting under a pine tree, she pulls down his pants and gives him a nice blo—" Angel began to hum, before she clapped a hand over his mouth.
"I swear if you finish that sentence, I'll tell everyone where you hide your drugs," she hissed in his ear so Charlie and Vaggie wouldn't hear. "Yeah, buddy, I saw you."
Angel swallowed loudly, going back to drinking and staring straight ahead.
"Anyway, don't worry, Sam, Alastor is someone who enjoys putting people in difficult situations. He probably only said it to get on your nerves," Vaggie tried to console her.
She was probably right, but she couldn't shake the idea that there was much more behind what he had told her; as if he were the first one worried about it.
The conversation quickly shifted to more light-hearted topics, where Angel complained about the film he was shooting, and Charlie tried her best to cheer him up.
She smiled watching the scene, realizing that Hell contained people decidedly better than the human world and, for some strange reason, the desire to leave was becoming less and less strong.
 
 
 
The following day, Charlie was out with Vaggie, Angel had gone to work, and Husk was nowhere to be found, so she found herself wandering around the hotel. When lunchtime arrived, she started feeling a little peckish, but she didn't feel up to asking Niffty for help, not after seeing her create a wreath with the carcasses of some dead cockroaches. Moreover, she had once disobeyed Husk's advice on the first day and let the little cyclops prepare her lunch, but she had nearly choked on it due to the excessive amount of spices; the only bright spot had been her cookies. Usually, Charlie was happy to help her prepare something, but today she had to make do with her poor cooking skills.
She passed through the hall and headed towards the kitchen corridor until she entered it and turned on the light. The space was large and housed a wooden table in the center. There were multiple burners and a big fridge along the front wall.
Now the problem is "what" to eat, she thought, heading towards the refrigerator and opening it. She didn't find anything interesting or appetizing, except for some eggs and a white package wrapped with a brown twine cord.
Her curiosity got the better of her, and she grabbed the plate it was resting on and carried it to the kitchen counter to start unwrapping it, but she stopped as soon as the smell of raw meat reached her nostrils, and blood started to become visible.
She suppressed a gag and, being careful not to touch the meat, she wrapped everything back up. She wasn't a vegetarian, but seeing raw meat had always bothered her, and for this reason, since she lived alone, her diet had been based only on pasta, vegetables, and some plant-based hamburger substitutes. Not even buying disposable gloves to transfer it from the wrapping to the pan had helped; the mere sensation of raw meat between her hands was enough to kill her appetite.
"One shouldn't touch other people's things, ma chérie ".
Alastor's voice made her jump, and she inadvertently touched a part of the meat that had escaped her hasty rewrapping, making her emit yet another sound of disgust.
"Yuck, yuck, yuck " she found herself whispering, ignoring the demon behind her. She quickly put everything back in the fridge and started washing her hand.
"What an excessive reaction" he laughed, amused.
She turned to look at him and found him sitting on the table, legs elegantly crossed and back straight. His face bore the usual smile, but this time he looked strangely serene and relaxed, as if his facial muscles were less tense.
"I guess it’s yours " she stated, as she went back to the fridge to take out some eggs. These days, she had only seen him eat semi-raw meat and a strange dish called jambalaya, but she hadn't wanted to investigate what it contained despite the delicious scent it gave off.
"You guessed it; I just came to prepare my lunch, but I think I'll come back later ".
Sam looked at him aghast. "The kitchen is big enough to accommodate both of us and your ego, don't you think?".
Alastor shrugged, getting down from the table and leaning his cane on one of the chairs along with his jacket. He pulled an apron out of one of the drawers and put it on, then rolled up his shirt cuffs just above his wrists.
She chose to ignore him as much as possible, grabbing a bowl to crack the eggs into.
Okay, calm down, you can do this, she told herself, trying to think about what to do with that ingredient.
Crêpes? No, she wouldn't be able to make them thin enough.
Pancakes? Same problem as above.
An omelette? Good idea, but she had no idea what put into it.
She felt Alastor's eyes watching her as he heated a pan on the stove and, with incredible elegance, poured a drizzle of oil into it, swirling it around.
Start by cracking the eggs; you can think about the rest later, she told herself, but immediately a new and enormous problem arose. Even touching egg white absolutely disgusted her, and she would never manage it without gloves. Her frustrated sigh didn't escape the demon's ears, who let out a faint chuckle. She looked around and found the dishwashing gloves, putting them on under the demon's perplexed gaze.
"Pray tell, what are you doing?" he asked her, looking first at the egg she was holding in her hands and then at her.
A new tired sigh escaped her mouth. "I'm cracking eggs".
"And why are you using gloves?".
"They gross me out, okay?".
The demon rubbed his temples, trying to suppress an open and uproarious laugh. "Laisse-moi faire" he told her, taking the egg from her fingers and cracking it over the bowl. "Two or three?" he asked her.
She shrugged. "I don't know".
"You're the one cooking".
"How many are needed for an omelette?".
The demon's left eyelid twitched slightly. "Forgive my frankness, but how have you survived until now?".
She tilted her head and tried to put on an innocent look. "Takeout and ready meals, but I took the healthy ones with lots of vegetables".
In response, he mumbled something under his breath in French that Sam couldn't catch, and she watched him place himself between her and the bowl, cracking three eggs, then retrieving some milk from the fridge and adding it inside. He then grabbed a whisk and began to stir the mixture with quick movements of his wrist until it was fluffy and foamy, before handing everything back to her.
"Go ahead, you continue".
She remained motionless, unsure of what she should add. What was in the omelettes she had for breakfast when she went to the hotel? Mushrooms or ham, but she didn't have either, and asking him for help again was out of the question. Meanwhile, Alastor had turned off the heat and was leaning his back against the kitchen counter, watching her like a professor with a student, making her even more nervous.
She decided to grab some fresh spinach and rinsed it under the water, trying not to look at him, then placed it on the cutting board, finally taking off the yellow gloves.
"You forgot a step".
The demon's voice reached her ears, and she gripped the knife she had in her hand tightly. How easy it would be to stab him in the forehead, right where the ‘x’ appeared during his transformations. She took a deep breath and turned to look at him, awaiting an explanation.
He took some paper towels and started patting the vegetable dry. "If you leave the water, the inside will remain too raw and will ruin the flavour".
In response, she gave him a forced smile and resumed cutting, but new snorts and curses from the demon made her stop.
"Now what is it?" she asked through gritted teeth, trying to modulate her voice so it wouldn't become a hysterical high-pitch.
Alastor didn't answer her but positioned himself behind her with a serious expression and took her hands to guide her movements. Sam felt herself flush; every time he got close to her like that, her brain started emitting that empty hiss, and she completely lost the thread of her thoughts. The demon's cheek brushed her temple, and he was focused on the cutting, probably not even noticing the shivers that contact had caused her.
She involuntarily found herself smiling while he maneuverer her to help.
"It must be chopped finely, although the actual recipe would require other steps. Since you're a beginner, however, we'll skip them" he proclaimed, without a denigrating tone in his voice, like a teacher trying to help an awkward student.
When he released her hands, she felt a strange sensation of emptiness gripping her stomach and found herself staring at the minced vegetables in front of her, unable to make any more movements and almost waiting for him to give her the next directions. She turned and found him watching her with his arms crossed, waiting for her to move.
Pepper, there was always pepper in omelettes, she told herself, as she opened the cupboard doors searching for the spice. Her hand was trembling, and she was doing her best not to break into a cold sweat next to that arrogant yet strangely gentle demon.
She began to put a little in the bowl with the eggs, but the demon clicked his tongue on his palate, drawing her attention.
"We're improving but isn't something still missing?" he asked her.
She looked at him from beneath her half-closed eyelids. "And what, exactly?".
"Think, you can figure it out".
I'm going to kill him now; no one would know. I could say he fell onto the hot pan while I held his face crushed onto it. The image of him with his face on the fire somehow managed to calm her down and made her let out a satisfied smirk as she reached for the cupboard and looked at all the spices.
She tried to grab the curry, but a new sound stopped her.
"No" he said seriously, his arms still crossed over his chest and his eyes half-closed.
She tried with turmeric, but a new sound of dissent forced her to change her mind. She ran through three other spices until she reached the garlic, and he finally nodded, satisfied.
"Not too much!" he shouted when he saw her continue to pour it in.
"Wouldn't it just be faster for you to do it at this point?!".
The demon rubbed his eyes. "I'm trying to teach you something; if I do it, you won't learn".
"Oh, a cook too, I didn't know. Speaker, culinary expert, and soul-stealing demon. Do you have any other hidden sides?" she commented, listlessly stirring the mixture and then adding a pinch of salt.
"Lover..." he pronounced that word with a strange inflection, and Sam found herself freezing, her heart skipping a beat and her face turning crimson. "...of music in general; I can play a few instruments, particularly the piano very well" he replied with a satisfied look.
"It would be nice to hear you play".
Shit, I said that out loud, she thought, as the urge to commit hara-kiri for that comment made its way into her brain. However, he smiled at her sincerely, as if he were genuinely happy about what she had said.
"One day, ma belle" he replied calmly, as he turned the flame back on under the pan. "I haven't asked you about your soul yet today".
"It's still a no. Hearing you play the piano isn't worth a contract like that" she hastened to reply.
He shrugged, resuming swirling the oil in the pan. "Pity, it would have been an aphrodisiac experience".
Okay, now he's doing it on purpose, she thought, given the way he had pronounced the words ‘lover’ and ‘aphrodisiac’. She threw the spinach into the mixture, but the sound of a shrill radio interference reached her ears, making her jump. She turned to look at him and found him with his hands in his hair and his eyes wide.
"But why?! You were supposed to sauté them in the pan first!".
"And how was I supposed to know?!".
"That's enough, you're a lost cause!".
He pushed her away from the mixture and looked at it dejectedly, then resumed stirring it while whispering other incomprehensible insults, as she leaned over his shoulder to see what he was up to. He took the bowl, and once he ascertained that the oil was hot enough, he poured everything inside and then pointed to the preparation.
"I leave the task of flipping it to you, since it's now more of a frittata than an omelette".
She wanted to cry, also because there wasn't a lid large enough to flip the mixture, and she would have to try to flip it like the TV chefs.
Alastor seemed to notice the despair in her eyes and invited her to grab the handle with both hands. He repositioned himself behind her back again, placing his hands on hers as he had done when they were cutting the vegetable.
"It takes a decisive flick" he whispered close to her ear. "A well-executed wrist movement".
She tried to hold back the sigh that was pressing on her mouth to escape; at that moment, he was terribly sexy, and her mind was flying to other movements. His grip on her hands was delicate and firm at the same time, and for a crazy moment, it seemed to her that he was stroking the back of her hand with his thumb.
He prompted her to lift the pan off the flame, as he began to move her arms back and forth to prepare the frittata to be flipped.
"Don't shake" he whispered again, his breath reaching her neck. "I'll help you".
That simple phrase was capable of making a shiver run through her so strong that she moved the pan too forcefully, and the frittata ended up half on the kitchen counter, with only a part saved from the disaster. She slowly turned to look at him over her shoulder, biting her lower lip and trying to put on the best kicked puppy look she was capable of.
"Oops" she stammered.
They stared at each other in silence for several seconds, and she didn't even know why, but she found herself laughing loudly, something she hadn't done in a long time. The demon started laughing along with her, a sincere laugh, and for the entire time they laughed, they didn't take their hands off the pan handle. She involuntarily leaned the back of her head against his chest, and he let her do it, resting his chin on her head, while their laughter made their bodies tremble.
"Ma belle, I'll have to teach you many things".
I can't wait, she found herself thinking, as she listened to his heartbeats, calm and soothing.
They finished preparing what little was left and divided what had come out, sitting down at the table and eating in a reverent silence, interrupted only by some giggles that escaped their lips every time they looked at each other. More than two souls in Hell, they looked like two teenagers who had caused a disaster and were laughing at their mischief.
The demon stopped to observe a spot on her face near her lips, and as he approached her, the faint hope grew in her that he was about to kiss her. When they were very close, he reached out a hand and wiped a corner of her mouth with a handkerchief pulled out from who knows where.
"You were messy" he said softly, yet not taking his gaze off her lips and keeping his hand on her cheek.
She nodded, mesmerized, staring at the demon's thin lips as he continued to smile at her with his mouth closed. "Ah, thank you" she murmured, as her body moved towards him, driven by some absurd inner will.
She half-closed her eyes, realizing that the demon wasn't pulling away; in fact, he seemed to be indulging her movement by closing his eyelids in turn. They were so close that she felt his nose brush hers.
"Sam, it's not a good idea" his voice sounded terribly pleading to her.
"When do I ever have one?" she said, still very close to him while a smile tugged at her lips.
"Saaam! Where the hell are you?!".
Angel's voice suddenly reached her ears, making her startle. Alastor's hand, still resting on her cheek, pushed her away with such fervour that she risked falling off the chair, and she found herself staring at him, still perplexed by that sudden withdrawal. She found him much further away than he had been before, wearing his coat again, as if nothing had happened.
Did I dream it? Am I crazy? She asked herself, aghast, unable to stop breathing heavily.
Angel popped up in the doorway, observing her first and then Alastor. "What were you two up to?".
She felt her cheeks flush and prayed to disappear by self-combustion in a cloud of smoke, while the star cast knowing glances at her that seemed to be saying, ‘I told you so’.
Alastor quickly composed himself, standing up and retrieving his cane. "Our dear friend is a terrible cook; I offered to give her some lessons".
The other leaned against the doorframe, crossing all four of his arms over his chest. "Mm-hmm, I imagine. Hope I didn't interrupt anything".
Angel, please shut up, Sam thought, looking at him with a supplicating look.
"My effeminate friend, I am only interested in the soul I take not being too skinny; as for the rest, it means nothing to me".
She looked at him angrily; she wanted to shout in his face that just a moment ago he seemed to be of a completely different opinion, but she bit her tongue. It wasn't the time to start that conversation in front of Angel; in fact, she should thank him for having prevented her from making yet another stupid mistake that she would probably regret.
"Why don't you leave? I've eaten; your presence is no longer needed" she replied, crossing her arms over her chest. "In fact, I don't need your presence at all".
The Radio Demon laughed when he heard her. "Oh, ma chérie, you'd miss me".
"You know what I wouldn't miss if you left?! Patience!".
Damn arrogant bastard, I should have stabbed you when I had the chance, she told herself, gritting her teeth to avoid screaming again. He was able to destabilize her every time he opened his mouth. He seemed on the verge of taking a step towards her and then took ten steps back, as if he were afraid of what might happen if they got too close.
Damn it, they weren't going to get married; at most, there would be a little passion, and maybe he would even lose that prim and cold air.
No, Sam, no. Demon who wants to steal your soul, not a lover, her usual rational little voice told her, bringing her back down to earth.
Alastor ignored her, stepping past Angel and walking out of the kitchen calmly.
The spider demon looked at her with a sardonic look. "Admit it, you wanna fuck him".
"Not even if he were the last demon in Hell!".
Sure, Sam, tell yourself that; maybe you'll believe it sooner or later, she told herself, as she got up to clear the table.
"Anyway, I came because I have an interesting proposal for you for tomorrow night".
Sam turned to look at him, worried. "What kind of proposal?”.
 
 
 
"Oh no, you can forget about it!" she shrieked for the thousandth time, trying to break free from Angel's grip as he did his best to drag her along the hall.
"Come on! You’ve been cooped up here for two weeks, live a little, damn it!".
"I told you I’m not coming! I’ve heard what happens out there; I refuse to be shot, beaten, stabbed, or God knows what else!".
Charlie popped out of her office looking perplexed. "Angel, what are you doing?".
The porn star finally decided to let her go, but due to the backlash, she found herself flat on her butt on the floor, staring at the ceiling.
"I was trying to convince our dear Sam to get some air and visit the city with me; she can't always be shut up in here doing nothing" he teased her.
In response, she gave him an exasperated glare. "I told you I'm not setting foot out there! It's full of crazy people!".
Charlie crouched down next to her. "Sam, Pentagram City isn't as terrible as you think, really! You just need an expert to accompany you and help you avoid bad encounters".
As if to completely contradict the sentence the princess had just uttered, a sudden explosion destroyed one of the hall walls, enveloping them in a cloud of dust.
Sam practically jumped into the poor girl's arms, who fell to the ground with her.
"What were you saying?" she asked her with a trembling yet ironic voice.
From the dust emerged the figure of a girl with long blonde hair and a single eye in the centre of her face, whose pupil, instead of being round, was shaped like an 'x'.
Great, let's add crazy bomb-throwers to the list of people you can meet in Hell, she thought disconsolately, coughing from all the smoke.
"Angel! Where the hell did you go, you little brat?".
The girl lunged at him, still holding what was... a bomb?!
"Hey, can you hold this for a sec?" she asked her, dropping it into her hands as if it were a tennis ball.
Sam found herself staring at the small device, only realizing at that moment that it was lit. “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!" she screamed, tossing it from one hand to the other, not knowing what the hell to do with it because of the panic.
Vaggie thankfully came to her rescue. "Give it to me!" she snatched the device from her hands, throwing it far away and saving her from becoming a shapeless pulp.
Sam turned to Charlie, crossing her arms over her chest. "I think what just happened sums up why I don't want to go out".
The bomber turned to her as if she had only just noticed her. "And who is this? A dead-for-the-day? She looks weird" she asked, scrutinizing her from head to toe.
She felt another drop of sweat run down her temple; in this place there were humanoid spiders, talking cats, and cyclopean creatures, and she was the strange one. The urge to tell the newcomer to go to hell for the look of disgust she gave her surfaced in her heart, but she tried to control herself. It was definitely not the time to make a new enemy, especially one armed with dynamite.
Charlie nipped the potential argument in the bud by dragging Sam away to talk privately. "It's not a good idea to talk about your current situation; I wouldn't want it to reach dad's ears" she began, twisting her long, flowing blonde hair. "After all, you are to all intents and purposes a soul; they won't notice the fact that you're still alive".
She let out a sigh, running her hand through her hair, trying to maintain what little composure the previous explosion seemed to have definitively taken away.
"Alright, Charlie, I get it" she replied. "Anyway, there's no danger, because I'm not going out in any case. Heaven could fall, I…".
Another explosion suddenly hit, smashing another wall and almost sending those present flying across the room. Sam thought she would crash face-first into the ground again, permanently breaking her nose, but a dark tentacle grabbed her waist, preventing her from splattering.
Alastor had appeared from who knows where, positioning himself in front of the collapsed wall. Holding her firmly, he set her back on her feet near him, then tapped her on the head with one hand, still not looking at her.
"Ma belle, perhaps you should retire to your rooms. I wouldn't want your soul to go missing before I can savour it".
Millions of scenarios involving a different kind of savouring appeared in her brain, but she immediately dismissed the thought; too much time with Angel had definitely been contagious. They hadn't spoken since the day before, after that almost-kiss. She had even thought she had imagined everything, since he had returned to being cold and detached, as if he didn't care about what had happened; or almost happened.
She noticed the tentacle hadn't retracted yet and gave him an annoyed look. "I would, if you'd let me go".
"Pardon" he replied indifferently, withdrawing it.
A hissing voice from outside began to rail, and Sam looked up, realizing that there was an airship ready to fire above them.
Snake... driving an airship, and those are... eggs?
She should have been used to absurdities, but this was really too much. She took a step to the left, nonchalantly hiding behind the Overlord's back, hoping that whatever was launched would hit him first and spare her.
"Come out, Alastor, and face my wrath!".
She gave him a few light taps on the shoulder as if to attract his attention. "Um... I think he's looking for you”.
He adjusted his jacket on his shoulders, confidently stepping towards the exit, a look of amused tension on his lips. Not far from her, Niffty was already at work cleaning up the mess. If Alastor were killed, she would at least have solved one of her many current problems, and he would stop demanding her soul.
Stop kidding yourself, you're genuinely worried about him, the voice of her conscience said maliciously. As if to prove it wrong, she turned to leave, but not without glancing through the large tear in the wall. He was obviously handling it just fine, under the stunned gaze of Vaggie and Charlie.
Angel came up behind her, taking her arm and leading her upstairs. "Now we're going out; they'll be busy here for a while".
"I said no! Please" she begged him.
Another blast shook the walls, and a chandelier almost fell on her.
The porn star gave her a suggestive look. "Do you still think it’s safer here than out there? Besides, you'll be with me and Cherri, babe; you'll have nothing to fear".
All resistance was completely useless; Angel had decided for both of them, and she found herself in her room, while he thrown every outfit Vaggie and Charlie had kindly given her to change into during her stay at the hotel.
"Fuck, everything in here is so drab" he muttered, scrutinizing every single outfit with all four hands. "...high neck... sloppy... oh, not even my grandma would wear this!".
She was sitting comfortably on the bed with a satisfied look. "Oh well, I guess I'll be forced to stay here".
Cherri suddenly appeared in the doorway, observing the mess with the single eye that dominated her forehead. Sam had to admit that, despite her unconventional appearance, she was sexy with that provocative look. By this point, she had gotten used to the oddities, and her eyes seemed to overlook the peculiarities of the damned souls more and more, becoming new normalities.
The cyclops began to look at a black dress thrown on the floor and turned it over in her hands before starting to grin smugly, showing her sharp teeth.
"I have an idea" she said, giving a knowing look to Angel, who immediately returned it.
Sam looked from one to the other, realizing that whatever they had in mind, she would come out destroyed.
 
 
 
“Stop pulling it down, the length is perfect,”  Angel snapped back, as they headed towards the exit, descending the lobby stairs.
Sam fixed him with a furious look. “When you said, I have excellent tailoring skills, I didn’t imagine you meant turning it into a crotch-grazer dress!”
The garment in question was a black bell-shaped dress that, theoretically, should have reached her knees, but thanks to Angel’s alterations, it barely hit mid-thigh. Not content with shortening it, he had cut a deep neckline across the bust and forced her to wear a pair of black, knee-high, flat boots; the only compromise she’d managed to secure after ten minutes of arguing with both of them.
Cherri grabbed her by the shoulders with a cheerful smile. “You look great, honey, now let’s go! The Consent is waiting for us.”
Sam gave her a puzzled look. “And what would that be?”
Angel adjusted his gloves on his arms. “It’s a kind of nightclub. We’re going dancing.”
Sam wanted to retort that the last time she’d partied she’d ended up in Hell, but Charlie’s earlier warnings stopped her from saying it in front of the newcomer, and she resignedly sighed. If she didn’t follow him willingly, he was capable of dragging her out by force.
The star eyed her cleavage as they reached the bottom of the stairs. “You could have at least worn a push-up to show off the goods.”
“Knock it off!”
“Look at me! The right bra does wonders for tits.”
Husk, who had overheard the conversation, shot him an exasperated glance. “I’m telling you for the millionth time, those aren’t tits.”
Outside, meanwhile, Alastor was laughing boisterously while striking the blimp that had attacked them with his tentacles, as Charlie practically begged him to stop. Vaggie stood apart and only then noticed their arrival.
“Was that mine?” she asked, aghast.
Sam looked at her with embarrassment, hiding her chest with her arms. “I swear I tried to stop them.”
The relationship between them was strangely tense; despite trying to be polite to each other and avoiding being alone for more than two seconds. The only time they had found themselves at the breakfast table without the other guests, they had limited themselves to stealing glances and forcing smiles whenever their eyes met. She had a terrible fear that this assault on the dress Vaggie had lent her would spark a definitive fight.
The girl with the long white hair, however, raised her hands regretfully. “Don’t worry! In fact, you should go. With the renovations and Alastor, we’ll be busy for a while here.”
A green flash suddenly illuminated the entire room, as the snake demon’s scream echoed through the hall.
“I think he’s done,” Cherri commented, watching Alastor strut back into the lobby, cleaning his jacket sleeves with a satisfied smile.
Sam saw the Overlord's eyes on her, scrutinizing her intently, as if he utterly disapproved of what she was wearing. That look activated her inner contrarian, and she straightened her back to show herself off more.
“I don’t think I’m the only one who needs a tailor, but chérie,” he commented, approaching and tugging at the hem. “The other half of the fabric must have been left at the shop.”
She chose to ignore him and walk past him indifferently, feeling those crimson eyes follow her every step. When she turned to see his reaction, she realized he had vanished, while Vaggie was railing against him, telling him to come back and clean up the mess.
 
 
 
The walk to the club was quite short, and Sam found herself looking around, disoriented, several times. She was convinced she would find flames everywhere, but in reality, what she saw was just a city; if you excluded the scattered corpses on the street and the general decay. Perhaps the desire to spite the Overlord made her feel almost more relaxed, as she walked confidently, hidden among the group accompanying her. The clock counting down the days until the Extermination was the only thing that seemed clean and bright amidst the grey of the other buildings, and she thought that, after all, Hell wasn’t so different from the world's large human metropolises. The feeling of familiarity did not subside, and she knew she should have been scared of it, but even trying, she couldn't.
They entered the club, and she thought it was like any nightclub she had been to in her life, just with rooms for sex. On Earth, she’d seen people practically screwing on the dance floor, so she found it almost a stroke of genius. Some eyes fixed on them, but she quickly realized they were all for Angel, and this relaxed her. She wasn't in the mood to have to decline unwanted advances and hugged her arms to her chest in an attempt to conceal her body.
“Consent is a good name for a sex club,” Husk commented, escorting them to the bar to get drinks. “And for once, I won't have to serve you cocktail-sucking assholes.”
“Sex club? You said nightclub!” Sam asked, aghast, once the bartender's words reached her ears.
Cherri elbowed her in the arm. “Enjoy life, bitch, you’ll worry about the consequences when you’re dead again.”
But I'm alive, theoretically, she thought glumly, grabbing what would certainly be the first of a long series of mind-and-common-sense-numbing drinks. In fact, her common sense was probably left on Earth along with her body, or she would have stopped getting into absurd situations like this and focused on going home. The venue was packed with people writhing and yelling; at the console, some blue-skinned bull-like demons were spinning records and egging on the crowd beneath their platform.
Some familiar songs started reaching her ears, and she moved closer to Husk to ask for more information, as Angel and Cherri were talking animatedly about something she couldn't hear.
“I thought the music in Hell would be more vintage,” she commented. “But I know this one; it only came out three months ago.”
Husk shrugged. “Do you think you’re the first recent dead person?”
It made sense; people continued to remember their past lives even in death, and therefore probably reused them, even if sung by different voices. She started to wonder if the song she had used for the commercial was also famous, but copyright was probably the least of anyone's worries in Hell.
At the end of her second drink, she was dragged onto the dance floor and finally managed to relax despite the environment, as no one seemed to be paying her particular attention. She was gyrating near Angel and Cherri, while Husk stood apart, watching them, leaning against the bar.
“Why don’t you invite him to dance?” Sam shouted to be heard.
Angel was taken aback for a few seconds. “I don’t know, Sam, I wouldn’t want to leave you alone.”
Cherri suddenly hugged her, cupping her cheeks in one hand and squishing them. “Go ahead, I'll take care of the doll.”
“You’re ripping my face off,” she mumbled, as the grip prevented her from articulating properly.
After a few seconds, they managed to convince him, and they were left alone to dance, casting a few furtive glances at the two, who first spoke for a few minutes at the counter, then disappeared onto the dance floor. Cherri passed her another drink, and Sam downed it in one go, only realizing a moment later that it had a decidedly peculiar taste compared to the ones she had drunk earlier. It had dried her mouth, her gums were tingling, and her tongue was half-numb.
“You’ll see, this will loosen you up, honey,” the cyclops whispered in her ear.
Sam wanted to ask for more information, but her head suddenly became light, and the figures blurred. The lights flashing on and off confused her; a strange frenzy began to invade her limbs. She was filled with energy to burn, completely devoid of inhibitions. The rational part of her brain had gone into standby, and she felt made of pure instinct.
 
There's a place downtown, where the freaks all come around.
It's a hole in the wall.
It's a dirty free for all
 
The song's words repeated in her brain, and she found herself moving wildly, as if in the grip of a positive madness that was making her completely forget where she was.
 
Got a water bottle full of whiskey in my handbag
Got my drunk text on, I'll regret it in the mornin'
But tonight, I don't give a, I don't give a, I don't give a-
 
She and Cherri were jumping around the room like tennis balls, followed by the gazes of the demons present, but she was happier than she had ever been in her life. She felt the urge to keep dancing, to move and go wild. The outlines of things were blurred, but she didn’t care. It was all terribly and frighteningly beautiful.
The only problem was that she was starting to feel terribly hot, and her heart was practically exploding.
She took the Cherri's glass from her hands and took another gulp, at her encouragement.
 
And they turn me on when they take it off
When they take it off, everybody take it off
 
Hot, getting hotter, and everything getting stranger. People were crowding around them, and she felt the terrible need to reach the console to keep dancing but away from the crush. She kicked her legs, still jumping, grabbing Cherri's arm and taking her with her to dance in front of the DJs, who greeted them almost with an ovation.
 
There's a place I know if you're lookin' for a show
Where they go hardcore and there's glitter on the floor
 
Now she could finally breathe; she felt the air in her lungs again, even though her body was getting warmer every second, but a little voice in her head kept telling her everything would be fine. She ran her hands over her cleavage, seeking relief from the shivers running through her, then down her thighs, almost lifting her dress enough to show her backside to the delighted spectators.
“That’s it, Sam, let loose!” Cherri shouted, who was simultaneously imitating her, slightly lifting her very short red top.
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh (Everybody take it off)
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, oh (Everybody take it off)
 
“Yes, come on down there… take it off!” she slurred the lyrics of the song, addressing the spectators that she and Cherri were wantonly inciting. She should have been afraid of those lustful looks that seemed to want to devour her, but she was too happy, too high to stop. Many of the demons below her pulled off their shirts, waving them over their heads and encouraging her and her new dancing companion to do the same.
She began to stagger more than dance, but pretended it was all part of the moves. She was twerking as she never had in her life, leaning on the console with her hands to help herself descend, swaying her hips down to floor level.
 
Right now (take it off)
Right now (take it off)
Everybody take it off
 
She sang in time, jumping, while almost everyone present began to take off their clothes, and Cherri threw her top into an adoring crowd, who practically fought over it, leaving her in her bra. Someone had probably been beaten up to the point of drawing blood, but she continued to be convinced that everything was fine.
The moment the singer shouted Everybody take it off she completely lost the last shred of control she had left.
“Yes! Everybrody trake it froff”
She grabbed the hem of her dress and, in a second, found herself in her underwear and bra, fortunately quite covering, and threw it down below her, where a canine-looking demon had grabbed it, knocking down another one who was trying to do the same. She saw him bring it to his nose and sniff it with satisfaction, while she winked at him more as a joke than out of a desire to provoke.
 
There's a place I know if you're lookin' for a show
Where they go hardcore and there's glitter on the floor
And they turn me on when they take it off
When they take it off, everybody take it off
 
The song ended, but she kept dancing to the next one under the gaze of everyone present, while Cherri made her skirt fly off too.
“SAM! WHAT THE FUCKING HELL ARE YOU DOING!”
She felt someone grab her and try to drag her down, and she saw Angel’s face in front of hers, a mask of worry on his features. Husk, behind him, was rubbing his temples with an exhausted look.
“Angel… up on the staage,” she slurred, dragging him up.
Her friend was met with a huge ovation, while she tried to pull him into the frantic dance she absolutely couldn’t stop.
“Cherri, what did you do?” he yelled at one point.
The girl threw her arms in the air. “I gave her some piilllsss!” she shrieked, launching herself into the crowd, which caught her.
“YOU DID WHAT?!”
Sam looked at Angel, although at that moment he seemed to have three heads and ten arms. “Pilllss?”
He tried to grab her, but she kept slipping away from his many appendages, playing a ridiculous game of tag. “Sam, stop! You're drugged!”
But she couldn't listen to him. Cherri had drugged her? What was the problem? She was having so much fun right now.
“Jump, jump, jump!” the crowd encouraged her to do the same thing her new friend had done, and she didn’t think twice.
She turned her back, and before Angel could grab her to stop her, she launched herself into the arms of her adoring audience, fulfilling her dream of being carried like a rock star. The only annoyance was that many of them grabbed her butt, but just as many bounced her in the air like a spring. Angel quickly vanished from her sight, and she suddenly found herself pinned against a wall by someone.
It took her several seconds to focus on the figure in front of her, but two flaming red eyes brought her back down to earth for a moment. Alastor had dragged her into one of the private rooms and was staring at her with blind rage painted on his face. His smile was so tense it was practically tearing, thin as a blade.
“What. Are. You. Doing?” he enunciated.
He was using his normal voice again, warm and smooth, like the one she'd heard some time ago. She slightly pushed him away only to resume moving, unable to stand still. She rubbed against him, tracing the line of his smile with a finger.
“C’mon, let’s dance... I’m having so much fun…”
She was starting to realize her situation was out of control, not least because she was touching him without the fear of being torn to shreds. She ran her hands over his neck and ruffled his hair near his ears, which began to vibrate nervously as she got closer, then trailed down to his jacket and grabbed him, trying to make him move.
She turned her back and began moving against him, using him almost as support so she wouldn't fall backward, but he shoved her against the wall, holding her wrists and planting her palms against the surface. She felt his body press against her back, and a strange heat invaded her lower abdomen.
A part of her brain tried to call her to order and signal imminent danger, but she was unable to listen. The warmth of his body was concentrating in decidedly pleasant areas, and she had no intention of cooling it down. All the thoughts she had repressed about the Radio Demon rushed into her mind, and an intense desire gripped her throat. She wanted him, she wanted him right then.
His warm breath on her neck was pleasant, especially since he seemed to have adopted the good habit of using a toothbrush. She felt his nose in her hair as he inhaled deeply, and she sighed, feeling him there.
“Don’t move from here, am I clear?” Alastor hissed, tightening his grip on her wrists as if to reinforce the concept.
She wouldn’t have moved anyway, too lost in perverse ideas that had very little to do with rationality.
He vanished for seconds that felt like an eternity, and when he returned, he abruptly turned her around to put the dress she thought she had lost in the crowd back on her. She looked perplexed at the item in his hand.
“Maybe you don’t understand how it workths,” she slurred. “I’m shupposed to take it off, not put it back on.”
His crimson eyes began to blaze, and she saw him mutter a few insults under his breath in a tone too low for her to fully grasp. He raised her arms high, forcing her into the dress, and she could barely see anything as the garment got stuck on her head while she struggled to avoid being redressed.
She only stopped when she felt the demon's clawed hand linger for a second on her breast, just squeezing it. At that point, the deep desire to see his face to understand if he wanted her too took over, and she let the dress slide back onto her body.
She found him in front of her, dangerously close to her face.
“Don't provoke me,” he hissed. “It won't end well for you.”
Sam closed the distance even more, feeling his breath getting closer. “Or what are you going to do to me?”
“Boss, did you call for me?”
Husk’s voice erupted into the room, and Alastor pulled away from her in the blink of an eye, to the point that she wondered if she had imagined everything because of the drugs circulating in her body.
She saw them talking animatedly, but she was too woozy to understand anything. The scenes in front of her began to look like disconnected frames of a film she couldn't follow. She saw Husk grab her and take her out, while Alastor seemed to vanish. Right after, the bartender was arguing heatedly with Angel, and then she was outside the club with Husk, who was trying to transport her back to the hotel.
With every blink, the scenery seemed to change until Husk's image was replaced by Alastor's. He was practically dragging her by the waist through the hallways.
Another blink, and they were in her room, he was leaving, and she was lunging at him.
At that point, the images were regaining form, and however woozy, she finally managed to regain the logical thread of events.
“I repeat, it won’t end well for you to provoke me,” he said, staring angrily at her hand clutched around his wrist.
Sam still felt invaded by that heat, while her heart pounded in her temples. Although diminishing, the effect of whatever she had taken was still strong and completely clouded her rationality.
Do it, do it, do it, a crazy little voice repeated in her head, and she couldn't help but indulge it. She pushed him against the room's wall and kissed him fiercely.
The demon's lips were warm, soft, and she could feel his teeth beneath them. She tried to linger with her tongue on his lips, and in a second, she found herself pressed against the wall in turn, while he held her arms up to prevent her from touching him.
She felt a slight bite, not strong enough to hurt, but which simultaneously caused a small trickle of blood from inside her lip. She opened her eyes, panting, seeing Alastor staring intently at that little drop of blood that had started to well up, then licking it away.
She was completely out of control, lost in that lust that took her breath and reason away. She wanted more, she wanted to feel him more.
He seemed to snap out of it, trying to move away. “Damned bond,” he hissed under his breath.
“What are you talking about?” she asked him, trying to steady her breathing.
The demon’s eyes became wild, and again she found herself being tossed around like a doll until her back met the softness of the mattress. He straddled her, still holding her wrists above her head and pinning her legs with his knees.
His eyes began to take on a blackish hue, and his antlers lengthened on his head. “All this, it cannot be real! I have never wanted things like this,” his voice was a frantic, distorted hiss. “Ask for something and release me from this madness.”
Sam was drugged, but the little rationality she had left prevented her from uttering the words ‘I want you now’ risking selling her soul to get him.
“It’s not a bond,” she murmured, trying to sound as confident as possible. “It’s called lust.”
Alastor’s smile became almost ironic. “It’s one of the few sins that doesn’t belong to me, I’m sorry to disappoint your expectations.”
Madness made her act again, and she freed a hand from the demon's grip, bringing it to his crotch. She distinctly felt his erection pulsating beneath his dark trousers, but that gesture didn't seem appreciated, and she found herself trapped by his tentacles, which replaced the demon’s hands with an even firmer grip that seemed impossible to wriggle out of.
“Your body says something different,” she scoffed, smiling victoriously.
Good job, Sam, now you’ve really screwed up, the little voice of her conscience had started speaking again, but this time it was terribly distant, drowned out by that absurd desire she had to be possessed by the Overlord who continued to loom over her. He rested his hands on either side of her face and was dangerously close again, to the point that the urge to kiss him again overwhelmed her.
“It’s only the bond,” he hissed at her. “If you had never called me, this wouldn’t have happened.”
That word again, that concept that was absurd to her. She felt her body responding to his proximity, especially in that compromising position.
“You’re lying to yourself,” she replied, continuing to challenge him with her gaze. “You want me…”
“Don't you dare go on!” he exclaimed, enraged. “One day I'll have your soul, and it will be a pleasure then to free myself from your persistent presence in my thoughts.”
She wasn't getting anywhere like this, and she absolutely wanted to make him hers; she felt the physical need.
“What is it? Are you afraid of not satisfying a simple human? Is the Overlord scared?”
If he kills you, it would only be for the best, the usual voice said, now disheartened.
Alastor’s eyes, at that point, became two red slits filled with an emotion Sam couldn't recognize. His smile tightened, becoming strangely warm and inviting, and his antlers retreated to their place, although he didn't stop holding her with his shadowy arms.
“How I wish I could make you eat those words.”
“I dare you to,” she replied confidently, while the part of her brain that was still reasoning started packing its bags for good.
The demon ran his tongue over his lips as he moved closer and closer to her, finally kissing her first. Sam savoured every moment of that contact, which at first seemed delicate, sweet, and comforting. He finally decided to part his lips, and she was hit by the taste of whiskey and metal in his mouth, along with a note of mint from his newfound oral hygiene. He moved from her lips to her neck, leaving a trail of kisses from her jugular down to her collarbone, climbing back up each time in a slow, relentless torture.
Sam was beyond that dimension, her spirit lost in the gasps that the demon's breath on her neck was causing, just before he began to lap at it with his lips and tongue in a warm torture that sent shivers throughout her body. She tried to free herself from the grip of his coils to touch him in turn, but he held her back.
“That’s not fair, I want to touch you,” she panted.
Alastor slowly descended with his tongue, reaching to graze the neckline of her dress. “Ma belle, I believe I already explained that I don’t enjoy being touched.”
She wanted to reply, but his lips on hers forced her into silence. She felt the warmth of his mouth alternating with his sharp teeth passing over them, taking care not to hurt her, while one of his hands caressed her thigh, moving up almost to her buttock and then returning toward her knee. The tremors intensified, but that torture was becoming unbearable; she wanted more, she wanted to feel him.
She tried to push her torso towards his hand in a desperate plea for something more, but he just smiled in return.
“Oh no, don't count on it,” he whispered. “You won’t have me that way.”
Sam sighed desperately at that answer, realizing that whatever that demon had in mind would not involve the completion of the act. The impossibility of touching him and those tortures were driving her crazy, and the more she struggled to free herself, the tighter the grip became.
“Please,” she begged, utterly lacking control. “Come closer, please.”
The distance he maintained between their bodies seemed kilometres long, even though there were barely five centimetres between their torsos.
“Closer, like this?”
He settled himself better between her thighs, and she felt his pulsating erection terribly close. She tried again to wriggle free to wrap her arms around him and prevent him from escaping, but it was impossible to succeed.
“No,” she sighed. “I want you.”
“Shall we make a deal?” he asked her, gently trailing his lips across her neck.
Sam sank her cheek into the pillow; she wanted him, but she certainly wasn't going to sell her soul for him. He would give up sooner or later, she was sure; she just had to be patient. For now, she could enjoy these decidedly exciting ‘cuddles’.
“No,” she replied, starting to feel shamefully wet just from the little he was giving her.
She lowered her gaze, seeing him run his tongue into the hollow between her breasts, looking at her with fire in his eyes. “It could be more fun than this, all you have to do is give me your soul.”
He began to move his pelvis, making their sexes meet, separated by fabric, and Sam bit her lip to avoid letting out another sigh.
“I heard you want me, you'll give in.”
Alastor smiled before taking possession of her lips again. “Lust seems to be your sin, not mine.”
She wanted to reply that he seemed to be enjoying himself quite a bit right now and that the statement was at least hypocritical, but she felt her eyelids getting heavier and heavier. Whatever Cherri had given her was about to conclude its exciting effect, and she was terribly tired. To collapse asleep at a moment like this was absurd, and she tried with all her might to focus on the fire raging in her chest and between her legs to stay awake.
“Why you, of all people, I don't understand.”
She wanted to reply that some things aren't chosen, that attraction is often random and absurd, but she was truly tired, and even that fire wasn't enough to keep her awake anymore.
Shit, why now of all times, she thought, disheartened, as the demon seemed to notice her exhaustion. He let go of her wrists and began to move away. She only managed a clumsy attempt to hold him back by wrapping her arms around his neck, but in response, she received a gentle smile and a kiss on her forearm. He lay down next to her for another second, kissing her lips softly.
“I just can’t understand,” he murmured near her neck. “You and your damned soul are going to drive me insane.”
Sam tried to grab him again, but he slipped away into the shadows to reappear by the door.
“Wait,” she stammered, confused, as the outlines of things began to blur again. “I don’t understand you… I… I just want…” she wanted to finish the sentence, but a strange weariness gripped her limbs, letting her collapse into darkness.
“Ma belle, resisting you really gets harder every day.”
That was the last sentence she managed to hear, along with a caress and a kiss on her forehead, before finally falling into oblivion.

Notes:

And I'm back!
Alastor and Sam are now at a stalemate; she wants him and he runs away. Moreover, it seems that this time in Hell is doing her more good than harm. Is the Radio Demon really hiding something?
Anyway, I announce that the story is still really verrrry long and intricate. I will take all the time necessary to write it as best as possible, rather increasing the chapters and always giving space to everyone's "daily life."
So, thanks as always to everyone for reading <3
See you soon :*
Silvia

Chapter 8: Shivers

Notes:

Song:

Shivers - Ed Sheeran

‘Ma belle, resisting you really gets harder every day’.
She woke up convinced she'd heard Alastor's voice, but when she pulled herself up in bed, she was immediately forced to lie back down due to dizziness. Fragments of the previous night appeared in a jumbled order, leaving her unable to figure out what had happened.
The image of her practically naked, twisting on the console, hit her brain like a slap across the face, and she hid under the covers, utterly ashamed. She'd done stupid things in her life, but Striptease in Hell while on acid definitely took first place. She massaged her face as if trying to wash those scenes from her memory. They came back to her randomly, but every image seemed to be missing a piece, as if it were incomplete. She knew there should be something else to remember, something decidedly important, but she was in a total blackout.
A soft knock on her door forced her to peek out from under her covers like a snail from its shell, mumbling a husky ‘come in’.
Angel and Charlie popped their heads through the door, looking worried, holding a tray with some food and drink. Just smelling the food made her nauseous, and she bolted to the bathroom to throw up.
"Well, at least she's already getting the worst of it out," Angel muttered under his breath, setting the metal tray on the wooden nightstand and sitting on the mattress.
Charlie went to her aid, holding her hair and stroking her shoulder. "I'm so sorry, we shouldn't have convinced you to go out."
Sam slid down the edge of the toilet, flushing it, then leaned her back against the shower door. She held her head in her hands, feeling it pound like never before in her life. Even as a soul, the effects of a hangover were the same, made worse by whatever Cherri had given her.
"It's not your fault," she mumbled, getting up to rinse her mouth. "Rather, where is that bitch? I have some explaining to demand from her."
"We won't be seeing her for a while; thanks to her bullshit she ruined the night for everyone," Angel spat out angrily. "Anyway, sorry, babe, I have to go to work now, I only came by to see if you were okay."
Sam greeted him with a slight wave of her hand, while Charlie helped her back into bed to try at least to eat and recover.
"But how did I get back?" she asked, perplexed, noticing she was still wearing the same clothes as the night before.
Charlie shrugged her shoulders and palms up. "I don't know exactly. Angel told me Husk brought you back here and then practically locked you in your room to stop you from leaving. He said you kept saying... well... some odd things."
The obvious embarrassment that flashed across the face of the Princess of Hell made her realize that whatever had come out of her mouth certainly wasn't for everyone's ears.
The memory of her launching herself at Alastor in the hotel corridors and trying to kiss him flashed back like a bucket of ice water.
No, it couldn't be. Had she really shamelessly tried to make a move on the Radio Demon? And she was alive to tell the tale? It was absurd, beyond all logic. The image of her approaching him in the hallway, trying to cling to him, making her want to throw herself out the window. The last thing she remembered was him leaving her in Husk's hands and then disappearing after giving her an annoyed look, then only darkness.
She dropped her head into her hands, desolate. "Tell me I didn't talk to Alastor, please," she begged.
Charlie turned even redder. "Well... let's just say luckily he's not the type to take advantage of certain situations, but from what Husk said..."
Sam stopped her. "No, I don't want to know," she whined. "What an embarrassing mess."
The princess stayed for a long time trying to comfort her, telling her that everyone made mistakes when they were high and that, most importantly, it hadn't been her choice to take drugs. She repeatedly said that luckily Angel and Husk were with her, or she could have risked far worse than a few embarrassing moments that everyone would forget in no time.
Charlie's phone started ringing, and she withdrew from the room, leaving Sam alone with her thoughts.
In just two weeks, she had managed to mess up her life in Hell, yet she felt strangely happy, if she overlooked the terrible embarrassment she felt about the stupid things she'd done the previous night.
She headed towards the wardrobe, still messy after Angel's visit, and pulled out a pair of tracksuit bottoms and a t-shirt along with clean underwear, then jumped into the shower in search of relief.
She found herself thinking about her body left on Earth while touching her corporeal soul under the water. Probably not even an hour had passed in her dimension since Alastor had dragged her into that insane adventure, yet she had never felt so at home as she had in those days. The initial panic had soon given way to a kind of sense of familiarity with the place, like an ancient call that had never found an outlet in her earthly life. She had always felt out of place, out of time, alive but not living. She followed the steps of her life at a pace that didn't belong to her, while in this chaos, she managed to feel free. Free to simply be what she could be, without being judged for it. There was no one to evaluate her choices; in fact, for the first time, people seemed to genuinely need her.
She knew it was absurd, that this wasn't her place, at least not for a long time yet. She was only twenty-four; to many, she was still a child. Everyone had always told her that sooner or later she would find her place; she just had to grow up.
Look at me, having to end up in Hell to find it, she thought, as a bitter smile spread across her face. The truth was that she had made her own life a hell to punish herself for mistakes she couldn't forgive. Wrong relationships, abandoning dance, pursuing a career she didn't feel was hers; all to make every step of her journey a walk on broken glass barefoot.
She turned off the water and quickly dried her hair. Her eyes fell on her wrists, which seemed slightly reddened, as if they had been gripped for a long time.
Like a flash, the image of Husk holding her back to prevent her from going back into the nightclub reappeared; it must have been him who inadvertently caused them. She quickly put on a sweatshirt to hide them so he wouldn't feel guilty and stepped out of her room, ready to face this day as well.
Or rather, she felt ready until she met a familiar gaze at the end of the corridor and found herself wishing to be swallowed by the floorboards and disappear.
But why? Why? she asked herself, desolate, walking forward with her head down, hands in her pockets.
Alastor was leaning against the wall at the end of the corridor, his cane held in front of him.
"Bonjour, sleep well?" he asked, amused.
Sam sighed, doing her best not to look at him. "Please don't talk about it."
He materialized in front of her, leaning towards her. "I don't understand what we shouldn't talk about, ma belle."
She looked down to avoid his gaze, rocking on her heels in anxiety. "You know... I tried to kiss you... and Husk had to lock me in the room... that's all," she puffed out.
Alastor let out a chuckle filled with amusement, adjusting his monocle to keep it from falling. "Oh yes, about that little trifle" he dismissed. "All forgotten, everything."
She nodded, walking past him without sparing him a second glance, even though she clearly felt his vermilion eyes on her, looking at her with mockery.
He'll hold this over me for life, she told herself as she descended the lobby stairs.
She found Husk busy cleaning the counter and immediately walked up to him. "Thanks for the other night," she said, sitting on the stool in front of him. "And I'm sorry for... everything."
In response, he raised a hand, waving it as if to tell her to forget about it. "Water under the bridge, and besides, Cherri is the one who owes everyone an apology."
She was grateful for the comment, but she felt awful, especially because she was sure she'd ruined a nice moment between him and Angel. Those two liked each other, and it had been clear to her since the second day she arrived, but they seemed to refuse to get serious.
Some Spanish curses startled them, and they turned towards the stairs as a frantic Vaggie descended to the ground floor.
"Niffty? Where have you gone? Oh, por dios!" she shrieked. "We need to move! Husk, clean everything! Alastor?! Pendejo, where have you gone?!"
Sam blinked in confusion, her lips pressed into a straight line. "Morning Vaggie, is everything okay?"
Vaggie aimed her one healthy eye at her. "No, everything is not okay; Charlie's father will be here any minute!"
Sam nearly choked on the coffee Husk had made her, staining the freshly cleaned counter.
"Oh, for fuck's sake, Sam! I just finished!" he yelled at her.
Niffty appeared almost instantly upon hearing those words. "Oh, the big bad guy, I like it," she chirped happily.
Vaggie put a hand to her forehead, shaking her head. "That was really a fucked-up idea."
Sam was still coughing up coffee, and Niffty gently patted her back to prevent her from choking entirely. Lucifer himself was arriving, and she was still fully hungover, and on top of that, she needed to be lucid enough not to reveal that his daughter had dragged her to Hell. Charlie had warned her countless times; her father would never approve of an intrusion like hers, and more importantly, his daughter didn't want to get scolded. Sam would never admit it aloud, but she was afraid he would immediately send her home. The rational part of her brain hammered at her to go home, but that ancient call seemed to beg her to stay just a little longer. It was absurd, but what wasn't in her life right now? She might as well enjoy the ride while she could.
Alastor arrived, summoned by Vaggie's continuous shouting and Charlie's hysteria, who was trying desperately to arrange the furniture and check that the newly rebuilt wall was in order. The Overlord observed the scene with a closed-lip smile before snapping his fingers and arranging every single piece of furniture, and making sparkling balloons appear hanging from the stairs leading to the upper floors, along with a banner that read ‘Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel’.
"Couldn't you have done that sooner?" Vaggie yelled again, hands in her hair in exasperation while simultaneously trying to curb the company's agitation.
The demon then turned in Sam's direction, scrutinizing her from head to toe, then shaking his head in disapproval. "Ma chérie, those clothes are certainly better than yesterday's, but they are not suitable for welcoming a guest," he chided her.
Sam raised her middle finger at him. "Fuck you, Alastor, it's not the day."
"Please don't fight, at least today. I want to show my father that we are doing a good job and that there's hope for this place" Charlie begged them.
A hiss behind her forced her to turn around, and Sam found herself face-to-face with the snake from the day before. A slight squeak escaped her mouth, but she considered it a step up from the reactions she would have had on her first day in Hell.
"Good morning, Miss, we haven't had a chance to introduce ourselves; my name is Sir Pentious, a new soul seeking redemption," he introduced himself with a sibilant voice and a slight bow.
Now accustomed to it, she responded with a nod of her hand. "Nice to meet you," then turned back to Charlie. "Anyway, he started it! He never leaves me alone!"
"Ma belle, it seems to me that it was you asking for my attention yesterday, not the other way around," he replied, examining his nails with an air of indifference.
A choked scream escaped her mouth, along with a growing desire to headbutt the smirking bastard in front of her. But when she pointed her index finger in his direction accusatorily, the glimpse of bruised skin on her wrist flashed back, and with it, another flash, more like a dream than a memory.
His tentacles gripping her, him leaning down to her neck, his close breath. Instinctively, she pulled her hand back and touched the patch of skin she thought he had brushed, while Alastor looked at her with an inquiring look.
"Any problem? You look pale, ma chérie."
Vaggie suddenly entered her field of vision, waving her hands in front of her. "Hey! Stop the bullshit and get to your places! Come on, vamonos!"
She mechanically stood up from the chair, staring at the carpet beneath her feet as if looking for a connection to the memories that kept coming back to her mind. Could it have been a dream? She truly couldn't figure it out because those brief flashes seemed intangible, completely nebulous and different from those about her club antics.
The Radio Demon snapped his fingers in front of her as if to get her attention, but before she realized it, she found herself wearing a long bell-shaped skirt and a high-necked shirt buttoned all the way up, her hair pulled back into a chignon that tugged at her face.
"You really are a..."
"I said enough!" Vaggie snapped, pointing a threatening finger at both of them.
Sam crossed her arms over her chest, annoyed, leaning towards him to whisper her threat without Vaggie noticing. "Don't you dare do that again, that's a warning."
Alastor broadened his smile. "Or what are you going to do to me?”
Other glimpses of what seemed like dreams washed over her like a bucket of ice water, and she saw Alastor holding her pinned against the wall, his eyes full of desire.
She turned her head to look at him, but his gaze was fixed straight ahead, his cane held between his two hands in front of his torso and his back straight; completely unaware of what was going through her mind. What the hell had Cherri given her to make her have such absurd trips?
A knock on the door brought her back to the present moment, and she forced herself to stop thinking about those images that kept appearing in her mind; especially since many of them depicted her panting under the gaze of that same demon who was enjoying her every sigh. She felt her cheeks burn and tried to focus on the specks of dust that had been raised by Niffty's frantic dusting, praying that no one could read what she had just thought on her face.
"Dad!"
Lucifer's small figure stood in the doorway, and she was almost disappointed, but she tried to keep smiling with a welcoming expression. She had expected a decidedly tall man; instead, he was even shorter than her and she tried to suppress the urge to squeeze his red cheeks, which were the same as his daughter's. She had always imagined a demon like him to be scarier, especially after seeing Alastor's first appearance.
But hush, you had erotic trips about him, that rational voice, which was becoming increasingly insistent, scoffed at her, and she found herself fiddling with a lock of hair that had escaped the demon's magic, biting her lips nervously. By doing so, however, she reopened a wound that she didn't know how she had caused, and when a drop of blood escaped the edge of her lip, Alastor's gaze was strangely caught by it, and she felt herself blush. The way he looked at her lips was decidedly odd.
Oh God, does he want to eat me? she thought, trying to swallow the lump in her throat and passing a hand over her mouth to wipe it. It was impossible for what she was having about the Radio Demon to be real memories; no one had mentioned Alastor's arrival at the club, and Angel wouldn't have missed the chance to point it out, nor would Husk. It meant they were all her fantasies.
"...And this is Sam, a new addition to the hotel. We'll call her our marketing director."
Charlie's voice introducing her to Lucifer forced her to come back to herself and extend a hand to introduce herself.
The King of Hell grabbed it cheerfully, shaking it vigorously and with so much fervour that her entire body trembled. "Pleased to meet you! Charlie told me about a commercial you shot; I'd be very curious to see it."
How did you introduce yourself to someone like him? Was a handshake enough, or did she need to bow? Should she call him Your Majesty? Your Shortness? Oh no, not shortness. She risked being incinerated.
"It's an honour," she chose the diplomatic route and felt terribly relieved when Charlie began listing the other employees, diverting attention from her.
Niffty suddenly launched herself at the seraph. "Big bad boy"
Sam hadn't followed the entire conversation, caught up as she was in her musings, but that word uttered by the crazy maid nearly made her choke from not laughing, especially given the bewildered face of the poor demon.
"Oh, delightful," he mumbled, adjusting the white top hat on his head.
Alastor stood apart with her and Husk, observing the whole scene with a closed-lip smile. Charlie was excitedly describing what she intended to do and apologizing for Angel's absence, while her father looked around with a flat expression completely antithetical to his daughter's cheerful and excited one.
Lucifer then turned his gaze to the bar, shocked. "But what is this?"
Alastor stepped forward. "It's a small renovation we did, a little colour brightens things up," he hastened to say smugly.
The seraph looked at him annoyed. "And who is this? The bellhop?"
Sam barely suppressed a laugh, but she couldn't help letting out a snort that didn't go unnoticed by any of those present, who were too busy observing the blatant rivalry between the two demons.
"Excellent choice for the hotel name, Charlie" the fallen angel continued, trying to ignore the Radio Demon.
However, Alastor seemed particularly inclined to irritate him and didn't let it go. "Ah, ah, ah, actually, it was my idea."
"Ah, ah, ah, it's a stupid idea!"
"Ah, ah, ah, fuck you!"
Charlie tried to make them stop arguing, but with poor results, and Sam approached Husk for an explanation.
"Should I know something?" she asked.
The bartender sighed. "Two testosterone-fuelled assholes fighting, nothing particularly dramatic," he whispered.
Vaggie had been pulled into Charlie's whirlwind, who continued to rattle off all the ideas she had for the hotel and tried to convince her father of the real goodness of her venture, while Alastor watched the scene closely with an irritated look.
"Anyway, I can understand why you relied on someone like Samantha for the commercial; as they say, the radio is dead, right?" Lucifer commented smugly.
Sam froze on the spot, seeing all eyes on her again, trying to force a smile, while Alastor glared at both her and the little king.
"Oh, but Charlie has already used my radio program, but obviously, we'll see what works best. A classy program or an uncoordinated dance?" the demon replied, looking at his nails with an air of indifference.
She glared back at him, the urge to wipe that smug grin off his face growing in her head. "Does it burn not to be the only media anymore, huh? Remind me of one thing, how many souls have entered this hotel after your radio spot?"
Lucifer gave her a satisfied smile. "What an adorable girl."
Alastor, completely unfazed by the comment, continued relentlessly. "Exactly how many will arrive after the little show you put together with your porn actor friend."
She couldn't tell if he wanted to make her explode so he'd have an excuse to tear her apart or if he genuinely enjoyed getting on her nerves, but regardless, she wouldn't give him any more satisfaction; the embarrassment from the previous night was enough.
"Alright, we'll let the audience speak," she replied, while from behind Lucifer's back, Vaggie and Charlie signalled her to end the discussion.
The three resumed the hotel tour, followed by Alastor, while Sam remained with Sir Pentious and Husk at the bar counter, trying to keep a straight face.
"You're going to get yourself killed eventually," the bartender commented flatly.
Sam shrugged carelessly. "He can't kill me thanks to Charlie; as for the rest, I have enough thick skin."
The snake approached her curiously. "Excuse the question, but how did you get here? I don't think I've seen you around much."
"Oh well, you know, the city is big, and besides, I haven't been dead long, but I heard about the place and came here," she replied vaguely, earning an understanding smile from Husk.
The door suddenly swung open, revealing the arrival of a small woman, dressed in 1920s style, who skipped straight towards the counter. Her short blonde hair fluttered in front of her face, and she looked flustered.
"Husk! Where's Alastor? I need to talk to him," she burst out, completely ignoring the other two.
In response, she got a muffled growl. "What do you want, Mimzy? The air isn't good today."
Sam watched the little woman lean over the counter and tug at the poor bartender's suspenders, continuing to ask for information about the Radio Demon. Probably feeling observed, she turned towards Sam, and she turn the other way, pretending to look at an indefinite spot. She'd only been there for two seconds, but the little woman seemed like someone who brought trouble, and Sam had had enough of her own.
"Hey, do I know you?" she asked, tapping her on the shoulder.
"Um, I don't think so," she replied, trying not to look into her small, inquiring eyes. "I haven't been here long."
Mimzy didn't seem satisfied and grabbed her cheeks to look at her carefully, eliciting an irritated sigh from Sam. "Yet you look familiar."
"Oh, our Samantha had the opportunity to perform an indecent little scene the other night at The Consent, from what I've been told; it's likely you saw her there."
Alastor had arrived behind the quartet and materialized in all his terrifying splendour.
"Are you tired of being mocked by Lucifer?" Sam asked him, crossing her arms over her chest, irritated.
Mimzy seemed satisfied with the explanation and practically launched herself at the Radio Demon, a strange kind of jealousy gripping Sam's stomach, especially when she saw Alastor return the embrace.
"Long time no see, handsome hunk," the flapper flattered him, giving him a light pat on the shoulder. "It's been a while since you showed up at the club."
Sam was so irritated by the scene that she risked breaking the glass she was holding, but she tried to ignore the feeling of jealousy making its way into her chest. Whatever she remembered from the previous night was just a drug-fuelled trip; that demon was absolutely not interested in her, and more importantly, she shouldn't be interested in him. So why did her blood boil every time the little woman touched him?
Sam, stop it! He wants your soul, not you, she tried to repeat in her head, as she spun on the stool and fixed her eyes on the bottles behind the counter.
"It is always a pleasure to see you again, my dear."
She mimicked the demon's simpering, repeating the phrase silently, seasoning it with funny faces and eliciting a slight hiss from Pentious sitting next to her, while Husk begged her with his eyes to stop. Mimzy, however, seemed keen on irritating her, or perhaps she simply couldn't stand not being the centre of attention, and so she sat down next to Sam, dropping sensually onto the counter.
"This big boy could down a bottle of whiskey and still keep up with me on the dance floor. He was always a divine dancer," the woman continued, throwing knowing glances at Sam. "Though maybe he's a bit too old for you."
She forced a smile, continuing to look straight ahead. "Yes, let's just say decrepit," she muttered under her breath.
From the mirror in front of her, she managed to notice a red flash pass over Alastor's face, but she ignored it and continued to drink her water, wishing with all her might that it would turn into wine despite still suffering from the previous day's after-effects. She couldn't understand why she felt so uneasy in that situation, but perhaps it was all the result of those images that kept returning to her mind.
"Mimzy! You filthy whore, come out, we know you're in there!"
A scream from outside roused her from her thoughts, accompanied by yet another blow to the poor hotel walls, which this time seemed to withstand it. Sam ran a hand over her face; in this Hell, there would never be a day of peace and serenity.
The flapper launched herself behind the counter, under Husk's annoyed gaze.
"Someone who knows you well, I imagine," the bartender commented, resuming cleaning the glasses with indifference.
The woman shot him a glare before completely changing her expression and begging the Radio Demon to give her asylum to save herself.
"One cannot refuse you anything, can one, sweetheart?" he burst out, heading towards the exit to settle the situation in his own personal diplomatic way; that is, exterminating whoever was in front of him.
When the word ‘sweetheart’ reached her brain, she straightened her back, biting the inside of her cheek to avoid shouting the term out loud in a shocked tone herself.
She turned towards Alastor as if seeking an explanation, but she saw him take on gigantic proportions, grabbing the demons and tearing them to pieces as if nothing had happened, while laughing loudly. Soon, a large mass of blood and guts materialized in front of the hotel, and Sam miraculously suppressed a gag. Husk passed her some water and lemon to prevent her from throwing up in the hotel lobby, but even drinking seemed impossible.
"He's such a sweetheart" Mimzy commented dreamily, watching him exterminate her tormentors.
Sam watched the scene in horror as Alastor tore apart the bodies of the poor unfortunates who had dared to piss off the Radio Demon. "Yes, truly an adorable psychopath," she commented, choosing not to look beyond the gruesome scene.
"Too bad he's never been interested in women, or any kind of sex," she muttered, desolate, resting her chin on the counter with a dreamy look.
See? You imagined everything, she commented to herself, deciding to step away to avoid hearing those agonizing screams further, but she was intercepted by Charlie returning with Vaggie and Lucifer.
"Now what's happening?" Vaggie sighed in exasperation, grabbing her spear and heading out.
Lucifer looked at the scene alarmed, before Mimzy approached him sensually to introduce herself.
The little one is cock-hungry, she thought, while trying to calm Charlie.
"Let's show him the commercial; at least we'll get out of this mess," Sam commented, trying to help the poor girl on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
After several attempts, they managed to pry the flapper away from the seraph and lead him towards Charlie's study, but not before he cast disapproving glances at the spectacle outside as a piece of what looked like an arm flying in their direction nearly stained his immaculate white outfit.
"Beasts" Lucifer muttered as he was dragged away.
 
 
 
Once the viewing of the ad was over, Lucifer remained seated on Charlie's study armchair, arms crossed, not speaking. The slogan had finally been chosen by the princess, who had opted for a simple, ‘Whoever you are, redemption is here for you at the Hazbin Hotel’, letting the rest of the message be conveyed by Angel's sung lyrics. Thankfully, they had managed to cut her out of the shots and only keep the less obscene parts of Angel's movements. The release was scheduled in five more days, as they had had to contact some minor broadcaster; VoxTek had refused to air it.
The demoness was anxiously awaiting her father's approval, while Sam was behind them, leaning against the wall, waiting for some sign from the King of Hell, who, however, was strangely silent and pensive to the point that even she began to doubt the idea.
“Sweetie,” the seraph began, turning toward her. “It’s really fantastic, I mean it.”
Charlie's eyes filled with tears of emotion as she threw herself into her father's arms. Sam felt a lump in her throat seeing that scene. She had never known a father's embrace, nor the sense of protection that such contact could give. She found herself looking away to avoid hurting herself even more and to prevent other memories from resurfacing.
She was brought back to reality by an energetic slap on the shoulder from Lucifer that nearly made her spit out a lung. “You made a really excellent acquisition with this soul! Why in Hell? Wait, no, don't tell me, stock market scams? No, blasphemy?”
I accidentally summoned a demon and ended up here because your daughter unintentionally dragged me along, she answered mentally, trying to force a smile.
“A girl never reveals her dirty secrets,” she tried to say.
The seraph widened his sharp smile. “Adorable,” he commented, pinching her cheek.
“Do you think you can get me another meeting with Heaven?” Charlie asked hopefully.
Her father’s eyes suddenly grew dark and sad as he sighed despondently. “Sweetie, I would do anything for you, but wait a little longer and let’s see how things go after the commercial.”
“But the Extermination will be in just over three months! Time is running out!” she yelled.
Sam suddenly felt like a disturbance in that little scene and tried every way to sneak away with poor results. She didn't want to think about what would happen soon, especially because that event would risk ending her soul too. She didn't want to think about the risks she was taking, not when she felt so terribly at home in this madness. She knew that sooner or later she would have to face reality, but she wanted to wallow in that daydream a little longer.
“Charlie, listen to me; if you have more people willing to seek redemption, maybe they will be more inclined to listen. Trust me, please.”
“Dad, if we wait any longer, it might be too late!”
The seraph turned to her. “What do you think?”
She froze and stopped breathing. She really did not want to get involved in this matter, she would not comment on what had just been said. However, Charlie's pleading eyes seemed to beg her to say something positive, and she found herself caught between a rock and a hard place. That cursed shirt was almost preventing her from breathing, and she hated the Radio Demon even more for having put her in those uncomfortable clothes.
She lowered her gaze to the floor, biting the inside of her cheek. “Honestly, all I know is that without your daughter, I probably wouldn't be here.”
That sentence could be interpreted in several ways, and she really meant to thank her for bringing her to Hell, although from the princess’s discouraged huff, that message must not have been conveyed.
She tried to muster up some courage and looked the demon in the eyes. “She really works so hard every day for all of us, and I know that many are far from redemption, but I’m sure there’s hope. Regarding waiting, to be honest, I don't know, I just do the commercials.”
Charlie looked at her with gratitude before placing a hand on her father's shoulder. “Please, Dad, think about it a little more. If you really want to, I'll wait until the commercial airs but trust us.”
Her father took her by the shoulders, looking at her seriously. “I don't want you to suffer because of beastly creatures like the ones we rule. They were granted free will and they've only made a mess of it!”
She found herself ducking her head into her shoulders, thinking that she was the perfect example of the mess of that gift. When given a choice, she had always opted for the most idiotic option, and even recently she certainly hadn't improved her situation. Yet, she didn't agree at all with him.
“That’s exactly what free will is for,” she murmured, not having the courage to look him in the eyes. “To make wrong choices to understand that they are wrong and to learn from your mistakes. Only those who do nothing make no mistakes, and humans are certainly not perfect, but they do their best. Wrong choices teach us to improve, to find the right path. Furthermore, you don’t always choose evil willingly, but because you actually think it's the best option for everyone as well as for yourself,” she felt the seraph's eyes on her, but she still didn't have the courage to meet his gaze. She had spoken impulsively and without being able to think.
When she finally had the courage to look at him, Lucifer had let go of his daughter's shoulders and was fiddling with the ring on his finger. He seemed worried, engrossed in inscrutable thoughts. Had her speech really had its benevolent effects?
The Radio Demon's shadow appeared in the room and materialized next to the princess, looking at her in a fatherly manner.
Lucifer glared at him. “Speaking of beasts,” he muttered.
“For once I have to agree with Sam, humans make questionable choices most of the time,” and he turned his gaze toward her as if to tease her. “But they are capable of bringing out the best in them. And besides, Charlie is truly a sweetheart and treats everyone as if they were family. It doesn't surprise me that I find myself feeling a fatherly affection for her,” he said, pinching the demoness's cheek and eliciting a smile from her.
Lucifer’s gaze darkened, and Sam tried to look at Alastor to communicate with her eyes to stop it, it was not the time to strain things even more.
The seraph pulled his daughter by the arm to bring her closer to him. “Yes, my daughter is truly a splendid girl, and I don't understand why she chooses to mix with such scum.”
Perfect, now they're going to fight, thought Sam, who clung to the wall, praying it would swallow her up.
“Oh, Charlie knows perfectly well that she can trust me, I’ve always believed in her” he replied, pulling her by the free arm.
If they continued that way, they would split her in half, and she forced herself to intervene. She grabbed her by the shoulders, bringing her close and trying to defuse the atmosphere.
“Okay! Charlie, how about you show him how you renovated the upstairs? You know, they've already set everything up so there's no risk of running out of rooms,” she tried to say, putting on a forced smile and praying that Alastor would quit it.
Lucifer gave the Overlord one last venomous look before turning to her and smiling. “Excellent idea! The air in here is starting to get pestilent.”
Having said those words, he took his daughter by the arm and vanished with her, while Sam could finally breathe a sigh of relief.
“I didn’t know you had diplomatic skills” the Radio Demon commented, making to follow the other two.
Sam stood in front of him. “Oh no! Now you need to go clean up the mess you made out there and throw that little one out!”
He leaned toward her. “Are you perhaps jealous of Mimzy?”
Struck and sunk, she thought, trying to give him the best murderous glare she was capable of. “No! It's just that if we keep her here, forget about a hotel for souls seeking redemption, it will turn into a brothel!”
Alastor let out a chuckle before proceeding toward the lobby. “Aux commandes, ma petite.”
 
 
 
The meeting with Lucifer finally came to an end, and she, Vaggie, and Charlie collapsed onto the sofas, exhausted, while Niffty popped balloons with her favourite stiletto.
“So? Is your father going to get you the meeting?” Vaggie asked, massaging her temples.
Charlie scoffed. “Not yet, he says he wants to see how things go first,” she replied, annoyed. “He says it's better to have more concrete proof.”
Sam couldn't completely disagree with him, after all, they currently only had two guests, excluding her, so it wasn't much to demonstrate the desire for redemption from the people of Hell.
“Anyway, I should start with today's redemption activities, even though it’s only Pentious,” Charlie said, pulling herself up and stretching.
She, still lying on the sofa trying to unbutton the shirt that was strangling her, turned to look at her. “Speaking of which, since when did he go from danger to the hotel to welcome guest?” she asked, perplexed.
“Since Charlie thought it was a good idea to bring him into the house,” Vaggie replied, crossing her arms in annoyance.
The princess puffed out her cheeks, irritated. “Everyone deserves a second chance!” she snapped.
Both Sam and Vaggie gave her a look of disapproval, but they both knew well that Charlie was too good to see bad intentions in others.
A knock at the door surprised them, and the serpent demon quickly slithered to open it.
“Did you order the new skinner?”
Sam flinched at hearing that word and flattened her back against the sofa, wondering when the madness would end, but at the same time holding back a laugh. The comedic timing had been perfect; Charlie had spoken highly of Pentious, and he had immediately shown how wrong she was to trust him.
“Pentious, how many times do I have to tell you?! No weapons! If you don't stop, I swear on Heaven that I will rip your head off!”
Charlie then slumped back onto the armchair, letting out a frustrated sigh, while Vaggie tried to explain to the serpent that there was no need for weapons inside the hotel since no one would kill him.
I wouldn't bet on Alastor and Niffty though, she thought, trying to hold back yet another little laugh.
The despondent look on the princess’s face hit her hard; she seemed destroyed and saddened by the result of the meeting with her father. She sat up, trying to get her attention, but she was decidedly distant.
“Hey?” she tried calling her with poor results.
Determined to restore some of her usual vitality and cheerfulness, she stood up, taking her phone and connecting it to the stereo that always remained near the stage to play a random song.
Charlie looked at her, perplexed. “What are you doing?”
Sam offered her hand, inviting her to stand up. “A still body doesn't think well, so move!”
 
Go dancin' underneath the stars
Ooh yeah, I want it all
Mm, you got me feelin' like
 
The princess grabbed her hesitantly, and she yanked her to her feet, starting to move her in random steps, and then grabbing Vaggie too and dragging her into the madness.
“Did you do drugs again?” she asked, her single eye wide.
She shook her head. “Come on, have fun!”
 
Like my soul's on fire, I wanna stay up all day and all night
Yeah, you got me singin' like
 
She also grabbed Pentious, who was watching the scene in shock, only to release him very quickly when she felt how slimy his hand was, but trying to hold back her disgust.
Husk arrived, attracted by the noise, and looked at the scene in shock. “Sure, if you have good stuff, it would be nice to share… what the fuck are you doing?!”
His sentence was interrupted the exact moment she grabbed him, dragging him along with them.
 
Ooh, I love it when you do it like that
And when you're close up, give me the shivers
Oh baby, you wanna dance 'til the sunlight cracks
And when they say the party's over, then we'll bring it right back
 
“I’m mostly cat, but as a dancer, I'm a complete dog,” the bartender muttered, looking at the floor to avoid stepping on her feet as she dragged him with her in an uncoordinated but decidedly fun dance for two.
She noticed with pleasure that Charlie was laughing serenely and clinging to Vaggie as they improvised some steps, their foreheads close and sweetly smiling at each other. Looking at them, she found herself thinking that if she ever had to photograph love, she would choose that moment of sweetness between them. She smiled happily seeing them serene again while forcing the other two poor unfortunates to imitate her in classic group dance steps.
 
I wanna drink that smile, I wanna feel like I'm Like my soul's on fire,
I wanna stay up all day and all night
Yeah, you got me singin' like
 
She twirled, and a red flash caught her attention. Alastor was staring at the scene from the back of the room, a mixture of denial and genuine amusement in his gaze. What harm would there be in inviting him into this madness? After all, loosening up a bit would be good for him too.
She quickly moved toward him, and before he even had time to refuse, she grabbed his hand without thinking carefully about the gesture she had just made.
Feeling that grip reciprocated, the fear quickly vanished, and she dragged him toward the rest of the group.
 
And when you're close up, give me the shivers
Oh baby, you wanna dance 'til the sunlight cracks
And when they say the party's over, then we'll bring it right back
 
Her fingers was intertwined with his as if it were the most natural thing in the world, but being careful not to stand too close to him. They looked at each other for a moment as they moved along with the rest of the group, and for a second, it seemed to her that there was only them in the room. Alastor's smile seemed to soften, and she felt filled with a deep warmth.
 
You make me shiver with the fire you got
This thing we started, I don't want it to stop
You know you make me shiver
 
When the Radio Demon's eyes met their still-clasped hands, he let her go with a feline jerk, almost as if he had been burned by the contact. Deep down, she wished he would stay a little longer and try to enjoy that moment together, but he vanished into thin air, leaving her alone and immersed in the laughter of her companions.
 
 
 
Sam managed to sneak away while the other guests were laughing and joking happily and went toward the corridor to return to her room, but a choked sob caught her attention. The door to Angel's room was left ajar, and she looked through the crack to understand what was happening.
He was sitting on the floor with his back against the edge of the bed while holding ice to his bruised face. Blood was oozing from his split lip, and all his arms had conspicuous bruises no longer hidden by the long gloves he usually wore.
She couldn't resist and entered without permission, leaving him aghast.
“Sam, please go,” he whispered. “Now is not the time.”
However, she refused and went to the bathroom to wet a towel with cold water and place it on his injured lip to clean it, while he flinched in pain.
“What happened?” she asked him, genuinely worried.
His bi-colored eyes were full of tears that were pressing to come out, but he was trying every way to push them back. “It’s a mess, Sam, a real mess.”
“Maybe we can solve it together, talk to me,” she murmured, trying to reassure him. “I’m a living girl trapped in Hell, messes are my bread and butter.”
Angel took his face in his hands, barely holding back sobs. “Val saw the commercial, all of it,” he stammered. “And… and he’s threatening me.”
Sam grew perplexed. “What do you mean? He doesn't want it to air because you're in it? We can redo it and put a mask on you, so he can't break your balls.”
He shook his head. “No, Sam, it’s about you.”
A shiver of terror ran down her spine. “What do you mean?”
Angel remained silent with his palms hiding his face, and she wanted to scream, but he was already terrified enough without her adding her usual nervous breakdowns. It was time to bring out her emotionless side so as not to panic, also because the suffering of her new friend hurt her too much.
“He… he wants me to organize a show…” he stammered. “He said that if I don’t convince you, what happened today will be nothing… he also saw you at the club the other night and says you’re an interesting novelty, especially because you’ve maintained a different appearance from the other demons. I refused to involve you, and this was the result. But don't worry, I would never ask you to do something like this, you don't deserve it.”
Her heart stopped beating, while a thousand thoughts crowded her brain. She had grown fond of Angel, but she certainly would never start shooting adult films; she didn't have the strength. At the same time, she was afraid of what might happen to him if she didn’t try to resolve the situation somehow. Asking others for help would have been an idea, but she was afraid of putting them in even more trouble. Charlie was worried enough without that burden being added to her shoulders, and asking Alastor for help was out of the question. She had to manage on her own, as she had voluntarily made the choice to prolong her stay in Hell. It was time to start paying the price for her free will and choose, for once, to use that freedom to help a person she had become deeply fond of.
She hugged him, letting him give in to a desperate cry on her chest. “We’ll go together tomorrow, we’ll see what we can do.”

Notes:

Oops, it seems like Sam doesn't remember a thing, and Alastor doesn't seem willing to let her recall what happened. Who knows what the Radio Demon is plotting/planning.
Furthermore, Angel is definitely in trouble, and in the next chapter, we'll see the three Vs in full force!

Lots of love :*

Chapter 9: E.T. (Extra Temptation)

Notes:

Song:
E.T. - Katy Perry

That morning, she had made up some excuse to go out with Angel, saying he wanted to show her a couple of places in the city. He wasn't convinced by her plan, and in truth, she wasn't truly convinced either. She had only heard stories about Valentino and the other members of the V’s, but she was profoundly terrified of them. The only thing pushing her to do it was the idea that she would leave sooner or later; thus, she could endure a couple of months to help Angel, at least in that small way. She didn't have a real plan in mind; in fact, she struggled to string two logical thoughts together. She felt as she was jumping from a plane without a parachute, in total freefall.
The arrival at the VoxTek Tower was faster than expected, and as they both took the elevator, they remained in silence. Only the look on Angel's still swollen face gave her new strength to face this new absurdity she had gotten herself into. Despite the heavy makeup he had used to hide them, some swelling was noticeable around his cheek and lip area.
The elevator stopped with a dull hiss that made her skip a beat, as she felt shivers of terror reach her brain.
It's your fault for never thinking before acting. Has all this mess really taught you nothing? her conscience spat out, and this time, she was forced to agree. She had acted on impulse again, throwing herself into the enemy's arms and taking a big risk. If only she had talked to Charlie and Vaggie, maybe they could have done something, but she had thought she could manage on her own.
Hey, you're facing Hell and you took the idea of the Extermination well, you can handle this, she tried to tell herself, stepping out into the hallway with Angel. The place looked like a normal television studio, exactly like the ones she saw in movies.
Angel stopped in front of a door and sighed as he grabbed the handle. "Sam, you still have time to leave, I'll be fine," he mumbled, trying to sound confident.
There, this is your chance, run away, her brain spoke, but by now she was used to ignoring it and placed a hand over Angel's, urging him to open it.
"Let's go in, for now, we just need to talk. For the rest, we'll see what happens" she replied confidently.
The room was surrounded by screens, and a dense, nauseating red smoke permeated the air. It took a while for her to spot two figures sitting on the sofa with their backs to the entrance. A moth-like demon was sprawled out, watching some decidedly explicit films, while repeatedly saying they needed more holes, shouting at what truly looked like just a television.
It took Sam a long time to realize it wasn't a simple monitor, but another demon with an appearance that, for a moment, seemed decidedly funny to her, until she saw the red eyes that focused on her in a winking manner, a row of sharp teeth peering out from a triumphant smile.
"Well, look who came to visit us," he said, smiling. "Angel Dust's little friend."
The moth turned in their direction, revealing an equally terrifying smile, while continuing to puff smoke from the cigarette he held between his claws. "You've come to your senses, good."
She saw Angel tremble when the demon fixed his eyes on him, and she tried to stroke his hand to give him strength. "Val, please, she came here, but we just want to talk." he murmured.
The one resembling a television stood up, approaching her and looking at her carefully, while Sam was unable to move a step. Since arriving, she had convinced herself that she could handle all the absurdities and fears, but that grinning screen was making her lose all self-confidence. Why couldn't she think for more than two consecutive seconds about the decisions she needed to make? She only kept making her already difficult situation worse every time.
"She's definitely something new," he commented, moving strands of her hair as if to study her, while she couldn't even find her voice. "It's hard to find one that still looks human, interesting. Val, do you think she works?"
The moth stood up, revealing his full height and towering over Sam by at least twenty centimetres. His wings, used as a cape, dragged on the floor, and his heels beat rhythmically on the dark marble. He lowered himself towards her face, letting that strange red smoke reach her nostrils, and she began to cough due to the strong scent.
"We can try her for a while," he commented, running his long tongue over his lips. "Maybe I'll test her first."
Upon hearing those words, Sam found the strength to step back, while increasingly calling herself an idiot for getting into this absurd mess; talking to Alastor about the problem no longer seemed like such a crazy idea.
"You'd break her, have you seen this little body?" the other snapped. "We need her to work, at least for a while."
Angel intervened, trying to sound confident. "Val, she's not suitable for porn cinema, you know," he tried to say with a trembling voice. "Maybe she can do something else."
The slap that landed on her friend's face was so fast that she couldn't follow the movements of the bastard who had hit him, and Angel was thrown to the ground. She rushed to his side, trying to help him, but he pushed her away.
"I'm fine, I'm used to it," he murmured, standing up while she remained on the ground behind his long legs. "Vox, I'm sure there's something else she can do. You saw her dance, and from what I heard from Velvette, you've been looking for a choreographer for the new programs for a while."
Vox smiled wickedly, pointing a remote control at a screen. "Yet it seemed like she enjoyed being naked."
On one of the many screens appeared an image of her half-naked, dancing in front of the screaming crowd of the Consent, as she twirled and threw herself into steps she had voluntarily erased from her memory. She felt her heart pound in her temples as she tried not to look at her image being displayed on more and more screens. She felt embarrassed, and seeing the eyes of the two demons watching her image while running their tongues over their mouths made her gag.
"How did you do that?" she found herself murmuring, shocked, while staring at the lights projected throughout the room.
She felt Vox's claw under her chin, lifting it to force her to look at him. "Cameras are everywhere, little girl, there isn't a frame of Pentagram City that doesn't pass under my vision, and you were a decidedly interesting attraction." The video continued, and she clearly saw the moment she had jumped into the crowd, before the images became blurred, as if interference had burned part of the recording. "Also, let's just say I take personal pleasure in taking a soul from an old bastard I have a score to settle with."
The images continued until they revealed a quick frame in which a red shadow grabbed her by the waist to drag her away from the crowd until she disappeared. She didn't remember anything about that moment, but a small flash in her mind brought her back to the feeling of Alastor's hands on her wrists, and at that point, she had confirmation that he had truly touched her. Probably, that was enough to plant who knows what absurd thoughts in her mind, and she found herself blushing at the memory.
Valentino puffed out more smoke, continuing to size her up. "So, what do we do? Do we sign?"
Sam snapped out of it, realizing that these two wanted her soul to exploit her exactly as they did with Angel. Fear took hold of her again, and for a moment, even the fate of her friend, who was still shielding her, took a backseat. At this point, it would have been better to make a deal with Alastor than with these lunatics.
"I'm not signing anything," she blurted out, pushing away Vox's hand still on her face; the deep fear had managed to rouse her. "But we can still find an agreement."
Vox laughed boisterously. "And what would you like to offer?"
Nothing, she really had nothing to offer those two. It was obvious that what interested them was either her soul or her body, and she was not willing to give up either. She tried to imagine the worst scenarios, the ones where she suffered the same fate as Angel, and a wave of nausea rose in her throat; under those conditions, she wouldn't last even three days. If she had simply replied that she wouldn't do anything, her friend would be massacred. She looked up at the bruises still visible on his face, and her stomach clenched in a vise. She couldn't abandon him, he had allowed himself to be reduced to that state to protect her, and she wouldn't run away like a coward, not again.
"Just let me work here," she murmured, while Angel looked at her, silently begging her not to. "I'm certainly not a porn actress, but I'm good at dancing. We could create some choreographed commercials as an interlude to the programs to advertise the porn channel, a kind of sexy presentation… an Extra Temptation to entice viewers to watch the rest."
Good job, couldn't you have been this brilliant in college? she told herself, remembering that when she participated in group projects, she let everyone else do the work and never came up with an idea, not for all the gold in the world. Perhaps marketing wasn't such an absurd path to follow; she seemed to have a talent for getting into trouble and turning it into interesting commercials. She could create a campaign about her life titled: ‘Think First, Then Speak.’
Valentino grinned, looking at Vox with complicity. "And you would be willing to do that? For this worn-out little slut?"
Hearing him speak that way about someone like Angel gave her new vigor, and she pulled herself up, trying to face him despite her short stature. "You want something from me, and I want something from you, no point beating around the bush," she hissed, staring into the sunglasses he wore even in that dark place. "We all win; you get the newness, and I keep my soul."
Vox rubbed what must have been his chin with a thoughtful air. "It's not bullshit," he commented. "Also, you'd trash this one in ten minutes on your set, Val."
Valentino seemed irritated. "You're taking all the fun out of it."
The other demon dismissed him with a nervous wave of his hand. "I'll have a contract drawn up for tomorrow morning."
"That doesn't involve my soul," she exclaimed with renewed courage. "And my face must not appear. Put makeup on me, give me a mask, I don't care. I don't want to be recognized; for the rest, do as you please."
Vox smiled maliciously. "Fine, we don't need your face much anyway, there are other things that matter," he approached her again, taking her chin, while she tried her best not to tremble. "As for your soul, we'll talk about that in the future, little one. Sooner or later, you'll give in, everyone does," he looked at Angel as he spoke those words.
Maybe you should have said you wanted to stay dressed, you idiot, she told herself, exhaling all the air from her lungs, along with a good dose of fear and anxiety.
"Now get the fuck out, we have work to do here," the demon shouted, pointing them toward the door. "We want you here tomorrow, and you better have some ideas ready, we're professionals here."
They were unceremoniously thrown out, and when the door closed, they stared at each other in silence. Tears of emotion mixed with fear were etched on Angel's face, while Sam couldn't comprehend what she had just done.
"Sam, you're stupid," Angel hissed at her. "You should have convinced them to leave you alone; instead, you threw yourself into the wolf's den like an imbecile!"
"Nice gratitude, you asshole!" she found herself shouting. The fear and anxiety she had felt suddenly burst out, making her respond that way even to the person she considered a friend. She made to take the door, but Angel blocked her, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her violently.
"Val and Vox are two slimy perverts, do you think you'll get away with it easily?! You're a poor fool, you should go home right now!"
Sam couldn't explain why, but she found herself burying her face in Angel's soft chest, starting to cry as she hadn't in years, and hugging him, while he held all four hands up, shocked by the sudden gesture.
"I can't," Sam whispered. "I can't abandon someone in need again, I wouldn't bear it again."
The dam was broken, and she no longer had the strength to rebuild it. The repressed past came rushing back to her mind, and she finally understood that her suicidal willingness was an absurd way to repay a debt contracted with her mother many years earlier. When her mother needed her, she had run away like a coward, and now she couldn't do the same thing; there was no more room for another mistake like that in her soul.
Angel hugged her even tighter, trying to comfort her. "It's okay, Sam, I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to drag you here with me."
"Instead, I deserve it, I assure you it is," she continued, the tears impossible to stop. "My mother was sick, and instead of staying by her side in the last period of her life, I ran away for dance competitions, and she died without knowing I loved her. I was selfish, I should have stayed with her, and instead, I left her alone when she needed me most. Do you really think I could go home thinking that you would suffer the worst pain every day while I live my life peacefully? No, I can't do that again. I deserve to be in Hell, I just deserve it, and now I will atone for my sins. Please don't send me back, let me serve my sentence. Please."
This was everything she had kept inside until that moment, everything she truly thought deep in her soul and had tried to chase away with all her strength. There was nothing for her on earth, no way to redeem herself, but perhaps in that place, she could finally do something good and earn a different life.
How many times had she thought of taking her life on dark and lonely nights, when melancholy gripped her chest and that ironic and playful part of her went to sleep, leaving her alone. The reality was that even if she died on earth, she would have managed to do what she lacked the courage for: taking her own life. She thought back to herself leaning out the only window of her apartment, swinging her legs into the void, thinking that just a small push would be enough and everything would end; instead, she couldn't detach her hands from the window frames and found herself crying desperately for being such a coward.
Now she had a place where she could change everything, where she could be someone different from the pale imitation of a person she had been before; finally, she would manage to forgive herself.
However, there was something else that kept her in that place, that ancient call that made her feel at home in the most inhospitable place imaginable, as if she had finally returned after a very long journey in foreign lands. She didn't care to discover the reason, she just wanted to feel good after years of dying a piece at a time every day more. She wanted to stay with them, to have the chance to be someone worthy of forgiveness.
Angel hugged her even tighter, stroking her hair. "It's okay, Sam, I'm not sending you home. How would I manage without my new drinking buddy?"
Sam lifted her face from his chest, wiping her tears with the back of her hand and trying to force a smile. "A drink would actually help," she tried to joke.
Why did she feel safer than ever in her life despite everything falling apart? Why didn't she want to run away? A normal person would do anything to go home, and in the first few days, she was convinced she wanted to, but now her new fear was having to leave.
You'll have to go back one day, but if everything ends well, you'll see them again at the end of your life, she consoled herself with that thought, as they silently returned to the hotel.
She was truly in a bad state if her concept of a good ending was to find herself in Hell for eternity.
 
 
 
It didn't take long for Charlie to figure out that both she and Angel were hiding something, as they had skipped every single activity since their return, trying to come up with something suitable for the next day's performance. The princess and Vaggie questioned them at length, and they found themselves forced to confess everything, not least because her absence from the hotel the following day would certainly not go unnoticed, especially since she didn't have many places to go.
"You are two assholes!" Vaggie yelled once she heard everything. "You should have warned us about the problem! They could use you to discredit the hotel just when we have a chance; you'll screw up Charlie's efforts!"
Sam looked down guiltily while the girl screamed and cursed in Spanish, and Charlie sat on her bed, staring into the void. Indeed, she hadn't considered that those two had more in mind than just exploiting her. Things were much more complicated than she had imagined, and instead of solving one problem, she had created a thousand others.
"Oh, cut it out! If it hadn't been for her, Val would have massacred me by now," Angel spat out, all four arms in the air. "If you have a way to get us out of this mess, be my guest."
Vaggie suddenly fell silent, her eye wide, looking first at Angel and then at Sam, sighing dejectedly. "Angel, you know they'll do anything to discredit us. They are not exactly fans of Charlie, let alone Alastor."
The Princess of Hell seemed to snap out of it, clutching the crimson sheets with both hands. "Vaggie, I probably would have done the same thing for Angel," she began, keeping her eyes fixed on her own legs. "Selflessness is one of the principles we try to uphold, along with the idea of family. Sam was just trying to do her best."
She looked up at her and smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Charlie," she whispered. "I thought I was doing the right thing, I assure you I didn't want to create more problems."
The demoness stood up, wrapping her hands. "You don't have to apologize; you are in this Hell because of me, and I still haven't found a way to send you home. You are doing more than enough right now."
Vaggie blinked, perplexed. "Excuse me, when did we go from kicking their asses to complimenting their screw-ups?"
Charlie looked at her partner and then stroked her cheek. "It will be fine, you'll see. Sam only has to dance, and besides, no one knows she's connected to the hotel, and maybe she could recruit some souls to bring here, taking them away from the V's. Maybe she could even convince them to air the commercial. They keep threatening smaller broadcasters to delay its transmission."
Oh yes, I am absolutely the right person, she thought, but chose to keep that comment to herself. She had just escaped Vaggie's wrath, and it didn't seem like the time to reignite that ticking bomb. She found it terribly difficult to interact with her, as if they were somehow too different to get along; theirs was simply a peaceful coexistence that never escalated into real arguments. Moreover, they both cared about Charlie, and that was enough to earn mutual respect.
"Alright, fine!" Vaggie grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. "Let's avoid telling Alastor for now. Let's not stir up too much trouble."
Sam looked at her with an inquiring expression. "And why? Why should he care?"
"No puedo creer" she hissed, holding her forehead. "To make a long story short, there's bad blood between him and Vox, and now they are literally fighting over the same soul."
"But I'm not giving it to either of them," she replied sharply.
Angel chuckled under his breath. "You'd give it to Alastor, and I'm not talking about your soul."
"Oh, what the hell, Angel!" she scoffed, exasperated by this absurd situation she had gotten herself into again with her own hands.
Charlie smiled encouragingly. "If things go badly this time, though, call us."
She nodded. "I promise, Charlie, seriously."
The lecture finally concluded, and she retreated to the library, as was her custom, remembering that she still had to prepare something for Vox or she would be seriously risking it.
She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, trying to put her thoughts back together and compose herself. That confession to Angel had exhausted her, but somehow also freed her from a burden she could no longer bear. For years, she had kept that millstone inside her that often took her breath away, and she could finally say that she had begun her personal path to redemption, even though she was far from Heaven at the moment.
She tried to push the thoughts away, playing the playlist on random until she found the correct song to present the next day and smiled with satisfaction.
"Putting on another show, ma chérie?" Alastor asked, popping into the room.
Sam dropped her phone in fright, which luckily didn't break. "That's none of your business," she answered curtly.
The Radio Demon came closer, tapping his cane on the floor. "Why don't you decide to ask for something and hand over your soul to me? Don't you want to go home?" he asked her, the usual smile adorning his face.
"One day... perhaps," she murmured, realizing that it no longer made sense to pretend that was her first thought. "Right now, I'm fine even like this; unfortunately for you, I'm a person who doesn't desire much, and I'm also very adaptable."
The demon's grin became strained, while he furrowed his brows. "I would have reservations about that point, but I certainly won't be the one to shatter your hopes."
Sam recalled what she had seen on Vox's screens and approached him confidently. "You were there that night at the Consent, weren't you? I remember you."
Alastor looked at her dumbfounded. "I think your memory is still confused; I would never mingle in places like that."
"You're lying, Alastor, and you know it," she hissed, shortening the distance even more and staring into those vermilion eyes. "And don't hope that I'll ask you to go home. I have things to sort out before I leave."
The demon's eyes seemed to sadden for a second before returning to their usual air of superiority. "I can't understand what really binds you to this place" he whispered.
"And why are you so bound to me?" she asked him, almost touching his nose with her own. She couldn't be sure that the memories portraying them in decidedly unchaste attitudes were real, but she was certain of what she had seen on the screen.
The demon narrowed his gaze but did not pull away from that near-touch. "You already know the answer, and you, better than anyone, should understand it. Do you think you only stay because you like it here? The bond is not unilateral; it involves you personally."
Sam found herself gasping upon hearing that answer. That ancient call, the one she felt every day since she arrived; could that be the bond? No, it couldn't be. What she felt was real, profound, stemming from a visceral need that she was unable to control; she didn't want to believe it was all due to the fact that she had summoned him.
"Lying to yourself won't save you, Alastor, I know that well. Free yourself from your burdens and you'll live better."
She felt his breath on her face becoming increasingly ragged. "If only I could get rid of you, I would live much better."
Having said those words, he disappeared as he had arrived, leaving her still with her neck strained toward the void and her heart pounding in her temples.
Self-note: find a way to prevent him from running away when we finally talk without tearing each other apart.
 
 
 
The next day, the studios were buzzing with activity. Sam found herself separated from Angel in the blink of an eye and practically thrown into Vox's office. He was frantically scribbling notes, and his body was traversed by electric discharges.
"Ah, it's you," he muttered, without looking up, handing her a sheet of paper. "Sign here."
Sam took the paper and began reading it carefully; it was not the time to sign a document that could seriously get her into trouble. She scrutinized it from top to bottom, seeing that the clauses she had requested were respected, and, most importantly, none of the fine print included the sale of her soul to either of the two sleazebags. It was a standard work contract, like ones she had before. She would have to show up at the studios once a week to record the choreography, in which she would participate, trying to direct multiple dancers along with her. Obviously, this provided no remuneration since the contract literally stated, ‘We will pay you when you give us your soul, literally’.
"Are you going to move it? We've got things to do here," he roared. "Or don't you trust me?"
Sam looked at him ironically. "Oh no, of course, I trust a pervert who spies on people from screens."
Vox finally lifted his face from the desk, his image seeming to flicker in and out of the screen that was his head. He was definitely the strangest demon she had ever seen, perhaps because up until now the others had humanoid or at least animalistic appearances. She took a pen and quickly signed, then left the paper and headed out.
"And you better make it worth it! Or I swear I’ll make you regret wasting my time!"
Sam turned to reply, but the door almost slammed in her face with the force with which the demon had closed it.
"You're the one who called me here, asshole," she hissed through clenched teeth. She could definitely see why Alastor hated him so much.
She was practically bowled over by a girl with long pink, blue, and white hair tied in two pigtails, who was transporting several outfits on a rack while animatedly talking on the phone, insulting someone.
"I told you that asshole dismembered the model! I need another one in five minutes or I swear the next one to be torn to pieces will be you!"
The image of Emily from The Devil Wears Prada flashed through Sam's mind; those two definitely had a similar demeanor.
The girl hung up and fixed her white irises on Sam, letting her gaze travel from her feet to her head. "Are you the new one?" she asked with hostility.
She nodded, trying to hold back her annoyance. "The choreographer and dancer," she muttered.
The demon grabbed her arm and dragged her roughly through the corridors, until they reached a television recording studio. The lights were dazzling, and various cameras were positioned everywhere. Grouchy stagehands and electricians made way for them with grunts of disapproval due to the shoves given by the dark-skinned girl. In the centre of the enormous room was a white stage with a purple backdrop. Above them, some dancers were doing warm-up exercises and watched her approach with curiosity.
"Get the fuck out of the way, we have things to do. Val?! Val, for fuck's sake where are you?!" the girl shouted, then pushed one of the stagehands with such force that he fell.
Sam found herself thrown into the midst of some decidedly scantily-clad dancers, both men and women, who observed her sporty outfit with disappointment. She found herself hugging her arms around her waist as if wanting to hide from their eyes. These demons looked like very well-built foxes and seemed to regard her with disgust for her human form. Indeed, in the midst of that demonic spectacle, she was the truly peculiar one.
"Velvette, doesn't this one need to change?" asked a female dancer, with blonde fur and her breasts openly displayed, covered only by what looked like a swimsuit.
The demon who had dragged her through the corridors looked back at her. "Oh, damn it, I always have to do everything," she muttered.
She began snapping her fingers, and Sam saw millions of outfits, one shorter than the other, flash over her until she stopped. Her comfortable denim pants had been replaced by very tight black leather leggings and a vivid fuchsia bandeau top; luckily, she was at least left with her sneakers. She felt a sort of mask appear on her face, covering almost everything except her lips, and she turned toward the only mirror placed nearby. It was black and elongated, very similar to Venetian masks in movies.
I knew I should have asked about the clothes too, she thought disconsolately, trying to cover herself with her hands.
"Hurry up! Show them the choreography, move!" Velvette snapped, then walked away as she resumed her frantic calls.
Everything had happened so fast that Sam felt completely disoriented, and she wished with all her might to have Angel by her side at that moment, who was probably busy in another room recording one of his adult films. He had tried to encourage her as much as he could before they were separated, but at that moment, she felt like a complete amateur. As long as she had to dance alone, she could manage, but directing a large number of people was another story.
She cleared her throat, trying to attract the attention of the only two dancers remaining on the stage. "So... how many of us will there be today?" she asked, seeing the others sitting down.
The male, another fox with dark fur and abs that looked sculpted from marble, replied with an exasperated air. "Honey, I thought you had the piece prepared already, not that I had to explain how to do your job."
That comment elicited a giggle from the blonde demon who had called out to Velvette earlier to change her. "Is she even a professional? We want pros here, not amateurs."
Sam felt anger rising in her, while most of the ideas she had vanished into thin air. It was obvious that given the type of program she had proposed, she couldn't perform classic hip-hop choreography, but she would have to add a bit of spice, even though that was definitely Angel's territory more than hers. She was grateful for having gotten some tips the night before, so as not to arrive completely unprepared.
Another demon with red fur and bright green eyes surprisingly came to her aid. "Listen, are we starting or continuing with the jokes? Honestly, I don't feel like getting my ass kicked by Val, do you?"
The murmurs of disapproval towards her finally seemed to stop, and she shot a look full of gratitude at the demoness. She began explaining some steps to both her and Hunter, a fox with silver fur. Both, despite their animalistic forms, were breathtakingly beautiful. The two tried to do their best, but they pointed out that they should at least touch her since she would remain centre stage. The interlude, after all, was supposed to push viewers to want more by switching to the channel that broadcast adult films, and they had to at least try to make that choreography tempting and overwhelming. If they didn't even touch, they would certainly look like good dancers, but nothing more.
She sighed dejectedly, trying to get suggestions from the two, but trembling every time she was caressed. She wasn't used to that kind of thing, even though recent events at the nightclub proved otherwise. She tried to breathe and catch her breath, but nothing seemed to relax her. After almost an hour of practice, they seemed to reach a point, although she constantly tried to escape the touch of the two, much to the poor dancers' disappointment as they tried to do their jobs.
Val suddenly appeared in the room, his pink eyes enraged and drooling. "Assholes, are you still not ready?! Move those butts in front of the camera or I swear I'll make you move them!" Sam straightened up suddenly, feeling the sleazebag's eyes scrutinize her with satisfaction. "We told you, we don't need your little face much, but for the rest, you're ours now, so you better make it worth it."
She tried to face his gaze even as he approached, trying to remain professional, even though that outfit wasn't helping. "Listen, do you want a choreography or soft porn? Because I think we haven't understood each other here with your dancers, and especially with the terms of my contract. No sex, no face, no soul," she listed on her fingers, trying to sound confident.
Valentino didn't flinch, continuing to peer down at her. "Show me what you've prepared with them, and don't piss me off. I'm not a patient guy," he replied serenely, then gave her a vigorous pat on the butt and walked away.
Sleazy, disgusting, slobbery son-of-a-bitch with wings, Sam thought, looking at him with hatred.
"Action!"
Sam started dancing, but every time she collided with the dancers who tried to sensually approach her to graze her, and she found herself surrounded by unwanted arms, legs, and tails in her field of vision, jumping every time she felt a touch. She felt completely out of place, and it was the first time that had happened to her on a stage. She certainly wasn't an expert in sexy dancing, but she had seen choreographies of songs, and not all of them were modest.
Val threw the megaphone in their direction, risking hitting her squarely. "You are dogs! You'd make even Asmodeus himself go soft, dammit!"
Shawna, the red fox who had defended her earlier, suddenly took her aside. She was extremely afraid that she wanted to tear her to pieces for stepping on her tail, but those clear, feline eyes suddenly seemed sweet and understanding. "Listen, the first time is hard for everyone, I know," she murmured, grabbing a bottle of water. "But try not to mess up. Val doesn't skimp on the hitting when he gets seriously angry. Think of someone you like and move, we'll follow you, don't worry," she saw her shoot a suggestive glance at Hunter while saying those words.
"Are you two together?" she asked, immediately regretting the intrusive question.
Shawna, however, didn't seem to mind. "Yes, for about a year," she said with satisfaction, running a hand through the red tuft of hair on her head. "We both decided to try something else; we'd like to manage to only have sex with each other."
Sam sighed in dismay. "I'm really sorry, excuse me," she murmured. "I just wanted to help a friend... I'm not very good at these things."
She frowned, puzzled. "We're all friends here, we protect each other from Val's beatings, and I'd be sorry if he killed yet another choreographer and I had to go back to being thrown into porn films. This is also our chance to get out of that loop, so don't ruin it for us and focus," she replied in a tone that was both sweet and firm, even giving her a light tap on the head.
She felt like a real idiot at that moment; she certainly wasn't the only one suffering from the situation she was in; she had to find the strength within herself to survive that grueling day. She took a sip of water in turn and returned to the stage, trying to breathe ten times with her eyes closed as before a competition.
Val, from his armchair, gave the signal again, and the music started.
 
Your touch magnetizing
Feels like I am floating
Leaves my body glowing
 
E.T. by Katy Perry; she had chosen it because the program would be called Extra Temptation, and it seemed particularly suitable, even though in the song the acronym stood for Extra Terrestrial. She tried to follow the lyrics, to do as Shawna had advised her a few seconds earlier, and the steps finally began to come out decently.
 
You're from a whole 'nother world
A different dimension
You open my eyes
And I'm ready to go
Lead me into the light
 
The two dancers circled her, while she reached out her hands to grasp theirs, which caressed her arms, and in her mind, a single figure emerged.
 
Kiss me, ki-ki-kiss me
Infect me with your love and
Fill me with your poison
 
Alastor in those flashes of memory that she still didn't know if they were dreams or reality, the demon towering over her, caressing her with his fingers and tongue, giving her shivers of pleasure throughout her body. Those gentle claws on her skin, the bitter taste of his lips on hers.
 
Take me, ta-ta-take me
Wanna be a victim
Ready for abduction
 
She really wished those memories were true, that they weren't just the probable result of a drug trip. She would have given herself to him completely if only he had allowed it, if only he hadn't been so distant and remote.
The dancers' hands traced her stomach and shoulders, moving away and coming back every time the music sped up, as if pushed away from her and pulled back like magnets.
 
Your touch so foreign
It's supernatural
 
She ran a hand over her throat, rising up to her lips, where she still imagined his taste and how it would feel to have his tongue trace the patch of skin she was stroking with her fingers, how exciting it would be to have him beneath her at that moment.
The steps came naturally, and there were no more mistakes; everything moved in a sinuous sway of bodies to the point that the choreography no longer seemed improvised but practiced for months before being staged.
 
I wanna walk on your wave length
And be there when you vibrate
For you I'll risk it all
All
 
She felt made of clay again, as if her body didn't belong to her and moved outside the control of her will, driven by the notes and those lustful thoughts that permeated her limbs. Everything was distant, lost in that desire that was igniting her again. He would probably never see it, but she danced for him, a desperate way to call him, enchant him, manage to have him.
‘You and your damn soul are going to drive me crazy’
 
Boy, you're an alien
Your touch so foreign
It's supernatural
Extraterrestrial
 
The song ended, and she felt those words hammer in her brain. Alastor shaping her, touching her, licking and kissing her like no one ever had. Her challenging him to continue, begging him to give her more. The images overlapped like a film that was too fast and whose logical thread was difficult to follow.
Now she was certain; she couldn't have dreamed it.
It was all true.
 
 
 
Alastor had just stepped out of his radio tower and headed to the bar. The foolish human girl had been gone all day, which had given him a chance to free himself from her annoying presence, at least for a while. He had studied every possible book, but there was no trace of a way to free himself from that bond between them, and he was beginning to deeply fear that she was right, that that damned summons had nothing to do with what he felt for her. His only hope of freeing himself from his obsession was for her to sell him her soul to leave.
A few nights earlier, she had managed to make him capitulate, to make him surrender to impulses that he had always considered disgusting and useless, devoid of any pleasure. Yet the mere thought of her helpless beneath him was enough to ignite him and cause that annoying swelling in his trousers, which she had shamelessly touched, to reappear. It had taken all his self-control not to succumb to her panting pleas, begging him to take her.
It must be the bond that forms when a demon is summoned, it must be that way, he kept repeating to himself, even though the truth was that he knew little about it too. It was the first time he had ended up on Earth, the first time he had been summoned by a still-living human soul. It had been a mistake to resume his human form with her; his stupid little game had awakened something he hadn't felt in years, long before he was dragged to Hell. Even in life, relationships had never been particularly important to him, perhaps only once with a woman whose face he couldn't even recall. Since his death, the memory of her had practically vanished, and he had simply forgotten her, not finding her interesting enough to retrieve the memory.
Now, however, that human girl ignited him with desire every time she got too close, and he couldn't take a step without seeking her out after a few hours. He followed her in the shadows, watched her dance, move sensually when unseen.
On the day of the commercial, he had tried in every way not to respond to the call of her body illuminated by the lights, but that line of the song had escaped his lips, and she had noticed. He hadn't managed to maintain enough control, and he was deeply ashamed of it. Then there was that near-kiss, and he found himself thanking a higher power for the providential intrusion of the porn star. Too many times, she had bewitched him to the point of making him lose all reason, and it was becoming decidedly unnerving to manage to be both far and near her. It all culminated in that accursed night.
Samantha was his curse; he was unable to stay away from her. Those eyes, dark as the deepest night, enchanted him, and when she was too close, he completely lost his mind. He distinctly remembered the sensation of those soft lips on his own, their sweet and inviting taste, which seemed to call him back like a siren's song since he'd tasted them. He desired her ardently, every moment of the day and night. He imagined her in decidedly unchaste scenarios, only to be immediately ashamed afterward. Her absurd way of dressing certainly didn't help, always wearing shirts that were too tight or left those enticing patches of skin exposed, pale as the moon. On the day of Lucifer's arrival, the only way he had managed to avoid dragging her into a room somewhere was to dress her as unprovocative as possible, and it hadn't been enough; even dressed that way, she awakened the lowest instincts of the human race in him. He refused to accept the fact that he simply found her damnably attractive; he, the Overlord, who had never, neither in life nor in Hell, desired someone this way. It was easier to think it was just a bond created by that cursed summons than to accept finding her damnably beautiful.
He arrived in the hotel lobby, noticing that both Charlie and Husk were in front of the infernal box they called a television. Probably the commercial she had devised was airing earlier than expected.
The song coming from the device, however, was completely different from the one he remembered, and against his will, he leaned over their heads to look.
 
Take me, ta-ta-take me
Wanna be a victim
Ready for abduction
 
A blind fury animated his limbs when he saw her half-naked again, just like that evening when he had to pull her from the clutches of those filthy horn-dogs who would have torn her to pieces just to get a taste. That night, he had followed her, spied on her, driven by the urge to see her every moment, unable to make her disappear from his thoughts unless she was right in front of him.
Even behind that mask, he could recognize her; he was certain. She was moving in that slimy broadcast, being fondled by those two dancers where he himself had run his lips just a few nights earlier.
She was stroking herself where he had passed his tongue with pleasure, sampling that soft skin, the mere thought of which was enough to keep him awake. It had been a relief to discover that she remembered nothing, or he wouldn't have been able to resist her for much longer; her oblivion was the perfect excuse to pretend it had never happened. He had ordered Husk to take her home and tell no one that he had gone to a place like that. Once they returned, he had checked that Husk left her in her room. The bartender had been careful to lock her in, as Sam seemed intent on leaving, and he had found himself forced to enter to check that she was alright and didn't hurt herself. That small worry had cost him his self-control.
He found himself wondering who those two beings were who dared even approach what was rightfully his, that soul that belonged to him because she had summoned him.
He gripped his cane tightly, while one hand dug into the sofa, ripping the fabric, drawing the attention of the two who had not noticed his arrival before that gesture.
"Everything alright, boss?" Husk asked.
He gritted his teeth, trying to compose himself. "Of course, I'm just wondering what the soul that belongs to me is doing in that infernal box."
Charlie turned to him, looking at him reproachfully. "Sam doesn't belong to you. She doesn't have a deal with you, or with Vox. She's just helping a friend."
So it was for that porn star that she had sold herself in such an undignified way, or was she telling an excuse, and the truth was that she wanted to satisfy her lust? He clearly remembered how she trembled and desired under his touch, but like a fool, he had believed that those sighs were only for him, that her desire was directed solely at him.
He truly couldn't be attracted to her in such a deep and visceral way; he couldn't have become like all the others. He had to find a way to break the bond before it drove him mad, or sooner or later he would do something crazy, driven by the desire to have her all to himself.

Notes:

Helloooo and good morning!
So, in this chapter, I wanted to include Alastor's point of view, also because I thought it would be nice to explore his twisted mind. It will be included occasionally in the next chapters, but Sam's POV will always remain the main one. Anyway, do you like it overall?
In the end, Sam managed to get away with Vox for the moment, but we know the V's well, and I don't think they'll let it slide.
See you sooooooon <3

Chapter 10: 7 minutes in hell

Notes:

Songs:
Magnetic – Wage War
7 minutes in hell – Chrissy Costanza ft VOILA’

Valentino was satisfied with the work and chose to air the video immediately. He had yelled at the post-production operators for half an hour to hurry up and cut what was needed, or face immediate dismemberment, and the poor souls managed to prepare everything in record time. Sam, however, was too far away to truly hear him or to hear the compliments of the dancers around her, who were patting her on the back and smiling kindly at her. Shawna must have even said something like, ‘Thank you, finally a show I really want to do’, but Sam could only reply with a slight smile before collapsing back onto the stage, as people around her began to dismantle everything.
It wasn't her imagination; Alastor had really stayed with her and then pretended nothing had happened, driven by the idea that what occurred was only due to the bond she had involuntarily stipulated with him. The memories returned slow and confused to her mind, but they were finally beginning to make logical sense. Alastor had her change in one of the private rooms, then told Husk to take her away from that place without telling anyone that he had come looking for her. The poor fellow had to do his best to prevent her from slipping out of his hands, and then he brought her back to the hotel. As he dragged her to the room, she had literally thrown herself against Alastor, slurring incomprehensible phrases, forcing Husk to lock her in, thinking that would prevent her from doing any more crazy things. Once the demon was gone, Alastor had slipped in from under the door, and from there, the memories merged with what she had thought were just hallucinogenic trips.
The lights began to dim around her as everyone started to retire, but Sam was still sitting on the stage with her knees to her chest, utterly unable to move, her clothes having returned to their original state once the performance ended. It took her a long time to shake off the state of numbness that had gripped her and taken her far from reality. Bond or no bond, they had seriously desired each other that night, and Alastor was trying every way to deny it. Now that she was sure of her feelings, she wouldn't let it go; she wanted to know what was going through his mind, why he kept drawing her close only to push her away like that.
She didn't believe the story of the bond; it was impossible. Although she wasn't particularly interested in her return to Earth, she had researched the subject extensively in those days, and there was no mention of it. Alastor, the untouchable Overlord, simply didn't want to accept that he was experiencing sexual urges.
But was it just that? Was there only passion between them?
Sam hadn't even considered the issue of affection, especially after what happened with Chris, nor did she intend to do so at that particular moment. Only time would tell her what was truly between her and the psychopath she had become infatuated with in such an undignified way.
I never change, always terrible taste in men, she thought disconsolately, finally deciding to get up and head back to the hotel. Angel was waiting for her downstairs, complaining about his workday.
"Hell calling Sam, are you alright?" he suddenly asked when they were near the entrance gates of the Hazbin Hotel, waving a hand in front of her face.
She found herself blinking to return to reality, trying to put on a serious face. "Oh yes, yes, I was listening to you."
Angel pursed his lips, annoyed. "Then what was I saying?"
Sam leaned her head against the railings in despair, realizing that she hadn't listened to a single word he had said.
"I need to tell you something," she whispered, looking around to make sure no one was listening.
Angel leaned closer, curious, a sly smile on his lips. "Ooh, ooh, workplace affair?"
"What did you understand?!" she jumped. "It's about the other night, when Cherri drugged me. Are you sure Husk was the one who brought me home?"
The spider demon put on a thoughtful expression. "Well, I stayed there arguing with Cherri, but he left with you, so I'd say yes. That bitch ruined a decidedly promising evening for me," he grumbled.
"So you arrived much later, right?" she asked again.
"Sam, you're worrying me, just spill it."
She sighed, letting her back slump against the gate. "I beg you to keep this to yourself and not breathe a word, but I think... I think Alastor was with me that night."
Angel remained still for a few seconds, but in an instant, he exploded like a firecracker. "I knew there was something going on between you and Smiles! You tease each other too often to be enemies! And tell me, what's he like? How long is it? No, wait, first tell me if he lasts or if he's a fifteen-second-and-done kind of guy."
She found herself bombarded with a thousand questions as she pleaded with gestures for him to lower his voice so they wouldn't be overheard. "Please be quiet, I don't want him to risk hearing us," she whispered. "I only just remembered it now."
Angel's gaze suddenly darkened. "Did that son of a bitch lay a hand on you without consent? Oh, if that's the case, he'll have to pull his staff out of his regal ass along with his teeth."
"Angel, let me talk!" she hissed in a high-pitched voice, covering his mouth with both hands. "It was completely consensual, in fact, maybe I wanted it more than him. It's just that since I didn't remember anything, he pretended nothing happened. In any case, there was just a bit of soft petting."
She took her hands off his mouth, allowing him to speak again. "You must have hurt his pride; if you didn't remember it, maybe it wasn't that memorable."
For her, the mere fact that he had touched her like that had been memorable enough; she didn't even want to imagine how much she would enjoy having him completely, and she blushed at the thought.
"Anyway, you need to do me a favour now," she whispered to her friend. "Can you find out anything about the bond between living souls and demons? That night he kept repeating that it's only because of that that we desire each other... carnally."
He burst into a hearty laugh as he opened the gate to walk up the driveway to the lobby. "Men are all the same; rather than admitting they like you, they'd get their dicks chopped off."
She genuinely wanted to believe that was the only problem, but she, too, was starting to fear it was something more, even though in her heart she knew it was nonsense. She had read too many books on the subject, as it interested her more than returning home, and there was no mention of anything that would make her think Alastor was right.
"Anyway, I'll ask around for information, babe."
They opened the lobby door and found the chaos. Something must have particularly enraged Alastor because he was once again taking it out on poor Sir Pentious, who was being tossed around the room by the Overlord's shadow tentacles, which towered up to the ceiling.
"Do it again if you dare."
Sam and Angel sighed resignedly, looking at Charlie and Husk for an explanation.
Husk threw his arms up. "Don't look at me, I don't know anything."
Charlie was pleading with the demon to stop, even risking getting hurt trying to catch the poor fellow who was being launched from one wall to the next, while Niffty, as usual, was trying to clean up the mess.
"Alastor, stop! You can't even say he really stepped on your foot if he doesn't have feet!"
Ah, just for that? Well, this is going great, Sam thought, now accustomed to the madness, as she leaned against the doorpost, watching the radio demon return to a reasonable size. His gaze suddenly fixed on her, and the object of his fury seemed to shift abruptly.
"Look who's back," he hissed. "If your desire was to become a brothel woman, you could have asked me; we would have been free of an agreement a long time ago without you having to stoop between the legs of that flat-faced individual."
Sam flinched, struck by those venomous words, and felt a blind rage rise in her chest, but before she could run at him, Angel blocked her with all four arms.
"Calm down, think," he whispered in her ear. "Try to put two and two together."
"I'll slap him two by two until they become odd!" she spat out, furious, trying to break free, but the radio demon had already vanished from sight.
Angel finally decided to release her. "To me, he seemed more jealous than angry."
Sam really wanted to listen to him, but being able to reason clearly was definitely beyond her means at the moment. It had been a decidedly unnerving day, and Alastor had, as always, managed to disrupt the delicate balance she had just found. Moreover, thanks to his comment, she certainly didn't feel like going to ask him for an explanation about what had really happened between them.
Charlie put a hand to her forehead, wiping away the sweat caused by trying to separate the radio demon from poor Sir Pentious, who remained plastered to the ground and feigning death, perhaps in a desperate attempt to avoid further retribution.
"He's gone, no need to be a rug anymore," Husk commented tonelessly, stepping over him as if nothing had happened.
The demon lifted his head, straightening his hat. "I just brushed a piece of tail on his shoes; I didn't think he'd take it so hard."
"Well, the last time he made you fly to the other side of the city for a piece of jacket, let's say these are small steps forward," Charlie tried to say, putting on a forced smile, before turning to Sam. "Speaking of steps forward, Sam, is there something you should tell me?"
She froze, starting to wring her hands while Angel looked at her with a knowing expression. "Nothing... nothing particularly striking."
"So, no news on souls to bring to our side at the V's headquarters?"
Ah, that's what she meant, she thought, relieved, letting out a sigh, while behind her, the friend hid his laughter behind his hand.
"No, nothing. But maybe there's a fox demon who might be considering it," she said confidently, recalling the conversation she had with Shawna. Once she returned to the office, she absolutely had to talk to her.
Angel and Charlie carried Pentious to his room, and she found herself alone with Husk. It was the right time to try and question him about what had happened that night and get some confirmation.
The bartender, however, seemed to notice her investigative look and tried to retreat unnoticed, but Sam intercepted him before he could disappear. "Oh no, you come here now; you and I have some things to talk about! Tell me again, who brought me home the other night?"
The cat demon began to flutter his wings and ears in the grip of the anxiety her fiery gaze had caused him, trying to sneak away. "Sam, I have nothing to tell you, or rather, nothing I can actually tell you."
"Oh, I think you have a lot to tell me, and above all, I am owed an explanation."
Husk ran a hand over his face. "Look, I'd really like to tell you what you want, but seriously, I can't tell you anything."
"And why?!" she demanded, increasingly irritated. "What do you have to hide?! Damn it, you've been telling me not to make deals with Alastor since I got here, and now you're best buddies, apparently!"
"We're not friends! If I tell you not to make a deal with him, it's because I've experienced what that means firsthand! That's why I can't tell you anything; it was his order!"
She finally managed to curb her anger and resumed breathing regularly, meeting the tense, pain-filled eyes of her interlocutor. Husk had always been the one most worried about her making a deal with Alastor, and she had been so stupid and self-centred never to ask him why he was so concerned. She relaxed her tense body and let her arms fall to her sides, shooting an apologetic look at the bartender, who was meanwhile holding his hat in his hands with a worried air.
"I'm sorry," she whispered to him. "I should have understood."
Husk shrugged his hands as he pulled himself together. "Occupational hazard of an Overlord and a gambler."
She wanted to ask him more, but it was clear that he, too, didn't want to talk about it. She, better than anyone, could understand those silences; she was the first to hide behind a wall when something hurt her.
"Seriously though, Sam, don't get attached to him for any reason, and don't let him ensnare you."
She bit her upper lip as she looked up at the ceiling, trying to look indifferent. That train had already passed, and she had willingly missed it, finding herself in the middle of a much more absurd situation than it was at the beginning.
The bartender looked at her carefully, resuming cleaning the glasses with the usual piece of cloth. "Tell me something, why was it so important to know who brought you home?"
Her cheeks flushed, and she nearly choked on her own saliva. She began to back away toward the stairs, raising her hands in surrender as Husk approached her, pointing his index finger threateningly.
"Oh no, don't tell me you did some other stupid thing! I locked you in the room precisely to avoid it!" he said with the same tone a father would use toward his daughter.
She stumbled backward toward the steps, still holding her hands up. "Um... you know... it's not what it looks like."
"Oh, it looks to me like you've done something impulsive that could definitely put you at risk," he hissed, continuing to point at her menacingly.
"Hey, I wasn't alone in that room! At most, we both did the impulsive thing," she scoffed, putting her hands on her hips, then slapped her forehead. She had confessed like a poor idiot.
Husk stopped abruptly, eyes wide and mouth agape. "That's enough! Take your bloody stuff to Angel's room and stay there until further notice!"
Sam looked at him slyly. "I would never, I wouldn't want to risk interrupting any hypothetical rendezvous between you two. Tell me again, where were you hiding that night?"
She barely managed to dodge the rag thrown in her direction, then ran up the stairs.
"And anyway, nothing happened; we just talked!" he shouted as she disappeared from his sight.
While fleeing, she collided right into poor Charlie, sending both tumbling to the ground.
"Sorry! I was running from Husk," she laughed out loud, helping her up.
The princess rubbed her aching forehead. "From Husk? What did you do to him?"
Before she could answer, the bartender arrived behind them. "Charlie, lock her in some room before she gets herself killed!"
She tried to signal him to be quiet. "Do you want everyone to know?" she whispered.
"Oh, so you finally told him about the spicy encounter between you and Smiles?"
Angel burst into the conversation, and she felt like throwing herself down the stairs. What was supposed to be a secret quickly became public gossip; all that was missing was for Vaggie and Sir Pentious to know, and she would have completed the picture. Oh, and Niffty too.
Husk frowned. "Spicy encounter?! I thought you had a bad fight again!"
"And do you think I would be so embarrassed about a fight?!"
"Hey whiskers, why are you so worried? Should I be jealous of Sam?" Angel asked, irritated.
"For Satan's sake, she's a child! What's going through your mind?!" Husk shouted back.
She turned to Charlie desperately. "Save me, please."
Charlie was on the verge of laughter, tears beginning to form at the corners of her crimson eyes. "Young lady... we need to have... a little chat...," she couldn't hold back anymore and burst into a booming laugh.
She felt a drop of sweat run down her forehead. "And you think I'm the crazy one?"
 
 
 
 
After being teased and then comforted by Angel and Charlie for half an hour, while Husk muttered about how idiotic she was, she calmly made her way back to her room. The flickering of lights announced the radio demon’s probable presence in her room before she even saw him. She was still decidedly furious about what he had said earlier, and the idea of going back where she came from crossed her mind, but avoiding the discussion wouldn't improve things. Furthermore, she needed to know why he had chosen to tell her nothing about what had happened between them.
She slowly pushed the door open and found him staring out the window, his back unnaturally straight and his hands clasped behind it, one tightly holding the cane he usually carried. She tried to take a breath before entering, well aware that this would be a decidedly difficult conversation to face.
She closed the door and stared at the back of his neck, waiting for him to speak, but they both remained silent. She began to tap her foot on the floor, but he still didn't utter a syllable, which was quite strange coming from someone like him.
"Did you want to tell me something?" she tried to ask, trying not to let the strong irritation she felt show in her voice.
The demon's ears began to vibrate, and his shoulders rose as if he had taken a long breath. "Does he have your soul?" he asked tonelessly.
"So that's all you're worried about," she replied, leaning her back against the door. "I thought you were jealous."
Alastor turned his gaze slightly towards her, showing his profile. "And what, pray tell, should I be jealous of?"
Sam tried to hold back the hysteria that his attitude provoked, convulsively tightening her crossed arms over her chest. "I don't know, you tell me."
"Ma belle, I truly cannot understand what you are trying to tell me."
"I remember everything, Alastor, there's no point in continuing to pretend," she replied seriously. "What I really want to know is why you decided not to tell me anything and act like nothing happened. After all, we are two consenting adults."
She saw the demon's smile lose intensity for a second, and his body shudder as if struck by an invisible blow. "Too much luck to hope you wouldn't remember anything."
"What is it? Do you regret it?" she asked, trying not to reveal how much a positive answer might hurt her.
The demon remained still, his smile seeming to tremble in the effort to remain fixed. "Is that what worries you?"
Sam clenched her teeth, averting her gaze from him and focusing on her own shoes. "I don't know," she lied, trying to sound relaxed. "I just want you to be honest."
She heard him advance towards her and found him standing in front of her, his smile almost completely gone from his face. "Ma belle, I have not yet asked for your soul today."
"Oh, for Christ's sake!" she yelled, exasperated. "Screw you, Alastor, get out of here!"
She opened the door for him to leave, but he remained motionless without taking a step. She more vehemently pointed toward the door, but he remained as stiff as a board.
"Am I to deduce a 'no'? Or have you already given it away?"
She ran her hands through her hair, trying not to tear it out in the force of the gesture. "You sound like a broken bloody record! No, I haven't given him my soul, and I won't give it to anyone!" she burst out, inches from his face, trying to instil at least a little fear in him. "And since you don't understand that it's time to get lost, I'm leaving!"
She moved to grab the door but tripped over something round that even let out a yelp, and she found herself flying against the wall opposite her door, barely managing to put her hands out. She looked down, finding a small egg-shaped creature trying to get back on its feet.
"Pentious!" she shrieked. "Get these bloody eggs back, or I swear I'll make an omelette out of them!"
 
 
 
Dinner time arrived, and Sam would have gladly avoided going downstairs if her stomach hadn't loudly demanded food. At the table, she only found Charlie and Angel, busy chatting.
"We didn't think you'd come down," the princess said regretfully. "But if you want, there are still some of Niffty's cookies."
She shook her head, slumping into the chair near them. "No, maybe in a bit, I'll go prepare something," she murmured.
She saw the two exchange a knowing look and smile conspiratorially after she uttered that sentence, but when she tried to ask for clarification, she was interrupted by Angel.
"So, did you talk to Smiles?"
She rolled her eyes. "It's impossible to talk to someone like him, he's slippery as an eel and... I swear, Angel, if you make any jokes, I'll throw a plate at you," she glared at him, as soon as she saw he was ready to open his mouth after she had said the words ‘slippery’ and ‘eel’.
Charlie gave her an encouraging smile. "Alastor is a difficult person, but I think he's just scared."
"Of what?! Damn it, I didn't ask him to marry me, at most to fu…," she covered her mouth with a hand. "Damn it, Angel, you're contaminating me."
"I have nothing to do with it this time, you did it all yourself," he replied, laughing.
The princess wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "You should just try to talk, that's all. Maybe you'd resolve the issue of your soul once and for all too."
She got up from the table to head toward the kitchen. "Yeah, sure, if only it were that easy," she grumbled. "Are you staying here? Or are you going up?"
"No, no, we'll wait for you; just leave everything here," Angel replied quickly, referring to her cell phone resting on the table.
I wonder what the hell they're up to, she thought, heading back toward the kitchen. She entered without checking if anyone was inside and froze when she saw Alastor with his back to her.
That's what they were planning, she thought, exasperated. Fleeing would be cowardly, so she resumed walking toward the fridge, pretending not to see him, and he did the same, completely ignoring her.
She returned to the door to check the pantry near it for bread but heard some whispers just outside.
"Angel, damn it, choose one fast."
"Look, you can't tell which ones are for setting the mood."
"This one! It has a nice title!"
A sound of a guitar coming from the stereo that must have been strategically placed in the corridor to send the melody even into the kitchen reached her ears. Her eyelid started to twitch, both from nerves and the embarrassment those two were causing her.
"What the hell is that?! Since when she listens to stuff like that?!"
"It doesn't matter, let's go, hurry!"
 
Gonna be magnetic
You and me are always gonna be magnetic
 
Going out to turn everything off would have been a great idea, but she didn't want him to think she had anything to do with that bizarre plan, so she chose to pretend she couldn't hear it.
She took the bread from the pantry and a couple of slices of cheese for toast from the fridge, starting to assemble the sandwich on the table with her back to the demon, who was completely indifferent to what was happening around him.
 
No matter how hard I try, you pull me back every time
You try to push away, but I'm right back in
You and me are always gonna be magnetic
 
Of all the ones they could choose, they picked this one, she thought disconsolately, as she approached the burners to heat the toast on a pan. She found herself side by side with Alastor, who was stirring rice in the pot in front of him with a spoon. An inviting scent spread through the kitchen, and what he was preparing looked decidedly better than the small toast she had planned for herself.
 
No matter how far I run, one taste and I come undone
You try to push away, but I'm right back in
You and me are always gonna be magnetic
 
"A bit sparse, don't you think?" the demon whispered to her, quickly glancing at the toast she had put in the small pan on the fire.
She tried to breathe regularly and continue not looking him straight in the eyes. "I don't really feel like cooking," she replied hastily.
"You don't feel like it, or you don't know how?" he scoffed.
At that point, she turned to give him a fierce look. "Do you want to talk about my cooking skills or why you keep running away?"
 
I pull the strings that set me free, but the hand above ain't mine
To hell with all you say and mean, 'cause heaven knows they're lies
 
"I am not running away," he replied in a hiss. "I am trying to be the rational one of the two, and I find it absurd, considering I am the demon here."
She violently slammed the pan she was holding, risking sending the poor piece of bread flying out. "Bullshit! There's nothing rational about attraction! If two people are physically attracted, that's it, there's not much to be rational about."
 
And I know where I shouldn't go
When I feel this low, oh, no
This time I can't let go
 
Alastor also slammed his pan onto the fire, then turned completely toward her, eyes wide. "It's not like that for me! I have never wanted anyone this way!"
"And you think blaming a bond is easier than admitting it? Is it easier to run away like a coward?!"
 
It's a force we can't escape
We're tied to fate
 
Their breathing grew faster as they faced each other head-to-head, their foreheads almost touching.
"That's enough! The topics between us will concern your soul and nothing more; this game has lasted long enough."
"Fine!"
 
No matter how hard I try
You pull me back every time
You and me are always gonna be magnetic
 
Neither of them moved a single step, their noses brushing and their breaths moving the hair away from their faces. They were so close that Sam could see the red of those eyes blazing into hers and the demon's jugular struggling to swallow his saliva, as if his mouth were terribly dry. She saw him half-close his eyelids and lean his forehead against hers as if exhausted, and she couldn't stop herself and wrapped her arms around his waist, managing to hug him for the first time since they had met. Alastor remained motionless and didn't respond immediately, but eventually, he stroked her shoulders with one hand.
 
No matter how far I run, one taste and I come undone
You try to push away, but I'm right back in
You and me are always gonna be magnetic
 
"Don't look for me for a while," he whispered to her.
She pulled back only to look him in the eyes to try to understand what that sentence meant, but in doing so, she let him go, and he vanished from sight in a cloud of black smoke.
She stood with her arms wide where the radio demon had been, and she found herself having to support herself with one hand on the kitchen counter, tears of frustration stinging her eyes.
She composed herself, trying to suppress the annoyance his disappearance had caused her, and turned off the burners under both pans, then turned off the music and returned to the kitchen to sit on one of the chairs, her hunger completely gone. Something was stirring her soul at that moment, but she categorically refused to name it; she didn't feel up to it. For a while, she wanted to think that whatever was between her and Alastor was simple physical attraction, an explosive chemistry that was driving them both crazy.
Maybe you're a bit of a coward too, she told herself, trying to relax.
The heads of Charlie and Angel peeking out from the doorway brought a smile of exasperation to her face. "And what were you two planning to do?"
The princess of Hell blushed but immediately tried to change the subject. "Hey! But that's jambalaya! Who's hungry?"
 
 
 
Two days passed without Alastor showing up at mealtimes or coming to claim her soul, and Sam found herself missing him more than she would have expected. Every time she saw a shadow, a faint hope arose in her heart that it was him, but most of the time it was just her imagination or caused by Pentious's rolling eggs.
That day she had practically taken Angel hostage, and since both Charlie and Vaggie were out for their weekly private appointments; they were using the lobby as a rehearsal studio for the new piece she was supposed to present the following week.
No song, however, managed to give her the right rhythm or inspire ideas, and she risked stepping on Angel's feet more often than they actually managed to take two steps together.
At the umpteenth stomp, her friend screamed. "What the hell, Sam! Just admit you enjoy hurting me."
She threw herself down onto the floor, tired and sweaty from the hours of rehearsal. "No, it's just that honestly, I have no vision for the piece. Even the music doesn't convince me."
"I think it would be perfect for a BDSM video; with all the beatings you've given him, those who appreciate the genre will be delighted," exclaimed Husk, sitting at the counter and observing the scene with a pleasant, amused smile on his face.
Angel crossed all four arms over his chest. "Listen, kitty, for certain things, I get paid double."
Husk tried to open his mouth to say something but seemed to restrain himself. She looked at both of them suspiciously, but the two pretended nothing was amiss and looked around.
These two have already hooked up, for sure, she found herself thinking, as she tried to do some stretching to relax her muscles.
Pentious sat with his eggs on the sofa, watching the staged spectacle with interest, even trying to move like them sometimes with poor results.
"Anyway, I'm done for today; you've destroyed me," Angel grumbled as he climbed down from the stage.
She panicked; she didn't want to be alone and still, or she would end up going to look for Alastor to talk to him. "Hey! You promised me we'd practice all afternoon!"
He gave her a shocked look. "Sam, you've been punching and kicking me for three hours! I get fewer hits on set. If you really need to vent your repressed anger about Smiles, I'll gift you a punching bag."
In response, she raised her middle finger in his direction. "Fuck off," she snapped, mimicking her friend's manner of speaking. "And you're the ones who are obsessed with the fact that there's something between us."
Angel stared at her with a displeased look. "Sam... you almost shagged him, and he's not exactly a particularly affectionate guy in that sense. Doesn't that mean something?"
She crossed her legs and stuck out her tongue at her friend, who, in response, threw his arms up, muttering ‘You're a lost cause’ and went to get a drink.
"If I may," Pentious intervened. "You should talk to him heart-to-heart; it's the best thing."
Sam managed a small smile. "Thanks, but that's not my style, and not his either," she replied, spreading her legs and stretching first toward one, then toward the other.
"Oh no, your style is opening up in a different way, right, babe?"
"Angel, for fuck's sake, I'm going to kill you!" she shrieked, trying to stand up but stumbling due to a cramp. "Damn it, what a shitty life."
She saw the faces of the three barely containing their laughter, and she let her back collapse onto the floor, staring at the ceiling above her and trying her best not to make the scene even more comical.
"Anyway," Husk began. "My advice remains the same as always: stay away from him from day one, but you assholes in here never listen to me."
She responded with a simple thumbs-up in his direction and heard him curse in response.
Angel entered her field of vision, appearing above her face and staring at her ironically. "I know you want to practice so you don't think about him."
She tried to give him a fiery look, but it probably never had any real effect on him. "Fine, you're done for today; I'll continue."
"And how will you do that? Didn't you want to do a duet for the next performance?"
She slapped a hand over her face, exasperated, then turned toward Husk. He, however, immediately shut down the idea by looking at her and shaking his head vigorously. She then turned toward Pentious, but he was completely uncoordinated, and besides, to be honest with herself, she didn't feel comfortable touching him. His skin was terribly slimy, and as sweet as he was in his own way, she wouldn't be able to achieve much if she ran away every time he got close.
Angel sighed, exhausted. "Fine, I'll lend you Bobby."
She raised her head slightly to look at him, confused. "And who would Bobby be?"
 
 
 
Sam dragged Bobby from Angel's room to the library. A mannequin as tall as Angel that he used as a coat rack, equipped with wheels under its feet for easy moving and articulated arms. She preferred not to ask too many specifics about why Angel had such a mannequin, or especially if he used it for anything other than hanging clothes.
She closed the library door and gave Bobby's face a light pat.
"Well, buddy, at least you won't complain," she said to herself, starting to scroll through her playlist.
She recalled Shawna's advice to think about someone she liked, to dance for him or imagine being together. She went through every single song until she found one that actually made her think of Alastor and was catchy, too. It certainly wasn't pop, but dancing, after all, should primarily be a way to convey emotions, and that song conveyed them strongly. It was up to her to bring them to the stage through movement, expression, and commitment. She had always excelled in competitions thanks to her ability to interpret choreography as if it were a screenplay, and this was definitely the best opportunity to try. She wasn't sure Valentino would appreciate it, but it was worth a shot. If necessary, she would prepare a second one as a backup.
For the second video, she was thinking of a pas de deux between her and Hunter, the dancer she had performed with previously, to make it easier to get him closer. It had to be something that conveyed passion but didn't descend into total porn.
She started the music and positioned herself near the mannequin, waiting for ideas to flow with the notes.
 
Do angels ever fall this hard?
The devil's dancing in the dark
I kinda like it in his arms
 
She mouthed the words silently, as if she were lip-syncing and trying to interpret the singer. She moved around the mannequin, thinking that perhaps Hunter could remain still for the first part of the song. She ran her hands over his shoulders, then leaned her back against the mannequin's and grasped its hands.
 
I think I know a little game
I think I know you wanna play
How 'bout a little twist of fate?
 
She mimicked a heart-wrenching expression, continuing to circle him as if being dragged away by a dark force, and that firm grip on one hand was the only thing preventing her from being torn from the room.
 
When you kiss me, I can feel fire within me
Heaven's got me burning
Yeah, you got me playing seven minutes in hell
Touch me
Bringing me down to my knees
Love the taste of sinning
 
She tried to move the mannequin with her, making it seem like he was ideally touching her shoulders to push her toward him and then pulling away. She threw herself to the ground as if the push had been too strong, then crawled backward to the rhythm of the music while her back followed the movements of her steps, flexing and arching.
At that point, the male singer would enter the scene, and Hunter could do the same with her.
 
Close your eyes I'm gonna be your favorite vice
Forbidden from your paradise
You wanna take a little bite?
 
She closed her eyes and imagined that voice was Alastor's, that those words were spoken by his lips. She pictured him in front of her, running his fingers across her neck and tightening his grip, then pushing her against his chest, forcing her to bend. She followed the movements she was imagining with her eyes closed, feeling her heart pound in her head. Whether she liked it or not, Alastor was constantly in her thoughts.
 
Oh, drop your halo on the floor
No you don't need it anymore
I'll never leave you needing more
 
She wished she could talk to him, make it clear that there was no need to run, that they couldn't ignore each other forever, and that there was nothing wrong with carnal desire. That desire was igniting her right now and making her move while thinking only and exclusively of him.
 
Why do I feel heaven on your skin?
When I wanna be your eighth deadly sin?
 
She dragged the mannequin towards her and sat on the table behind her, keeping her legs open and moving, then pushing him away with one foot as if to distance him. She lay back, the words flowing into her ears and compelling her to move. She only wished Alastor were in place of that lifeless piece of plastic.
She pulled herself up and nearly screamed when she found the radio demon right in front of her, his eyes flaming and fixed on her, filled with a feeling Sam couldn't identify.
Well, why not try? she found herself thinking, as she stood up to grab him by the lapel of his jacket and guide him towards her. Unexpectedly, he didn't push her away and let himself be pulled to the table where she sat down again.
 
When you kiss me, I can feel fire within me
Heaven's got me burning
 
She took his hand, inviting him to hold her back, and he unexpectedly obeyed, following her into this madness. They hadn't spoken for two days, and now it seemed utterly absurd that he would indulge her like this, but perhaps it was useless to ask too many questions; with Alastor, everything became unpredictable.
 
Touch me
Bringing me down to my knees
Love the taste of sinning
Yeah, you've got me playing seven minutes in hell
 
She ran her hands over his chest and felt him breathe more raggedly as she did so, then drew him toward her, almost making him lie down with her. She gently touched the hairline at the nape of his neck and managed to bring him close enough that their noses brushed. The demon continued to keep his hand on her back and stroked her slowly, almost following the exact script she had in mind. She pushed him back and stood up, turning her back to him and taking his hands to place them on her hips and caress them, while she leaned her head against his chest, beginning to let herself sink downwards. He, however, held her back and pulled her back up, then turned her to face him intensely. Sam felt her heart about to explode; she was convinced he would kiss her again, and this time he wouldn't stop.
"And what is this supposed to be?" he asked her abruptly, as they were close enough to brush foreheads.
Sam finally snapped out of that trance as the song was ending.
"The next video," she replied calmly, not thinking for a second about what that sentence might unleash.
The demon's eyes began to change, regaining their blackish shades. "That is not a funny joke, ma chérie."
She looked him up and down. "I wasn't joking."
She saw the demon's teeth clench tighter, while his smile struggled to remain fixed on his face. "Forget it; this is unacceptable."
She crossed her arms over her chest, staring at him seriously. "I don't see what's wrong; all I'm doing is dancing."
"This is not dancing; it is inciting the weak and debauched spirits of drooling sinners" he hissed in response, advancing toward her menacingly.
She held his gaze as best she could. "You said the only topic of conversation would be my soul, but it seems the conversation is not about that issue."
The demon's eyes turned icy, while the smile seemed to disappear from his face. "Touché."
She sat back down on the table, watching him carefully and trying to understand his body's reactions. He was panting, his ears were moving back and forth, and she was sure he was aroused again. She wanted to test her theory, but at that moment, he would stop her before she could get closer.
She smiled maliciously, lying down on the wooden table and caressing her abdomen, which was slightly exposed by her shirt, while staring at the ceiling. "Perhaps you're right; it should be more sensual; the music isn't suitable."
She was suddenly pinned to the wooden table as he held her wrists and leaned his head toward her, his vermilion eyes blazing above her, while the lights flashed on and off madly.
"Don't you dare" he hissed. "You wretched witch."
Sam smiled with satisfaction beneath him; she had managed to draw him out like this and wasted no time, wrapping her legs around his hips to prevent him from escaping.
"If I had known it took so little, I would have done it sooner," she laughed out.
Alastor tried to pull away, but she clung to him tighter, preventing him from slipping away into the shadows without taking her with him, and he was forced to stop, a guttural growl escaping his throat.
"If you don't let go, I swear I will tear you apart."
Sam, however, felt something stirring near his groin and challenged him with her gaze. "Will you tell me again that it's the bond making me act this way? Or that it's causing you all these problems?"
"Because there is nothing else, you must get that into your head!" he shouted. "I would never have desired you if it weren't for your summoning, cursed be the day I chose to come to Earth for your soul!"
He still held her wrists down on the wooden table, and the darkness created by the lights, which had suddenly gone out, began to glow with a greenish light created by Alastor's powers, but she was no longer afraid of it. Something kept telling her he wouldn't kill her, and it wasn't just Charlie's order; he'd had many chances to do it but had refused. Whether it was to claim her soul or not, it didn't matter to her at this point; she wanted that contact too much. She found herself wondering if perhaps souls were led to feel impulses more strongly, free as they were from corporeal constraints and Earth's social conventions; back home, she would never have behaved so absurdly.
"You could take any other soul, but you seem fixated," she replied confidently. "Have you never thought that it's your attention that attracts me?"
She felt Alastor's teeth grind when she spoke those words. "You keep playing with fire; sooner or later, you will get burned."
His grip on her wrists seemed to loosen, and she took the opportunity to slip away and wrap her arms around his neck too, stroking the radio demon's soft ears and feeling them tremble under her touch. He held his arms wide and didn't reciprocate the contact, but his breathing had become more erratic, and a couple of lightbulbs burst when she squeezed tighter.
"You know the bond has nothing to do with it," she whispered to him. "And unlike you, I'm not afraid to admit it. You, on the other hand, first push me away, then come to the club to protect me, push me away again, and get angry if I continue my life."
Alastor's eyes began to take the shape of radio dials. "This is not your life; you are here by mistake! And by continuing it, do you mean climbing into a hole of filthy swine governed by the biggest asshole in Hell?! You are crazy, Sam, let me tell you."
She deliberately ignored the first part of his sentence and focused on the second. "You mean you weren't jealous?" she asked abruptly, hearing him gasp faster. "That you weren't so angry because it bothers you that someone else is looking at me?"
The growl from the demon's throat intensified to the point that his entire body seemed to vibrate. "Stop it," he hissed. "Stop it, or I swear you will regret it."
"Stop what? Being so close to you?" she asked ironically, beginning to loosen her grip on his body. "Or participating in the show?"
The moment her arms began to fall away from his neck, the demon tightened his hold on her back, pulling her close to him again, while half-closing his eyes as if defeated. She was aware that her behaviour made no sense, but she couldn't help it; being this close to him was too satisfying.
She leaned in close to his face to whisper softly. "And anyway, I won't stop going to the show, not as long as Angel is under Val's thumb."
She was serious when she said it; she had risked a lot to save her friend and wouldn't give up now that she had come this far, but the demon responded by tightening his hands on her back even more, and she felt his claws on her skin, almost scratching her.
"You..." he hissed with his eyes closed. "What do you think you are doing? You will get yourself killed."
"So you worry about me?" she asked him, rubbing her nose against his neck and savouring his scent of leather and whiskey. "Tell me you don't want me, and I swear I will leave you in peace as you asked; tell me you don't desire me, and I will go," she was serious when she said it. She would no longer seek him out if he definitively confirmed that he did not desire her in any way.
Alastor remained silent, while the grip of his claws became less firm on her skin, turning into a kind of caress. Sam didn't lose heart and began to pass her lips over that strip of warm skin, only brushing it and moving up to his jugular, just below his chin.
"Tell me, and I'll go back to my current job and won't bother you anymore."
"NO!"
The response came loud, a guttural, growling sound followed by the most intense grip on her body and him almost biting her shoulder.
She jumped at the demon's impulsive gesture, but she didn't move away from him, savouring that contact she had sought and imagined since she first saw him in his human form, which now seemed even less attractive than the demon form she had come to know.
"Please, Sam, ask for something," his tone was almost desperate to the point that the remaining intact lights came back on and the static electricity stopped. "Free us both from this curse, go home, and give me your soul in due time."
He was pleading so vehemently that she felt guilty for what she had just done, almost as if she had forced him into that contact. She found herself letting go, even though he didn't stop holding her back and tucked his head into the hollow between her shoulder and neck, inhaling deeply.
"You want me to desire something? Then free Angel from Valentino," she replied, tears beginning to sting her eyes.
Alastor pulled away and looked her seriously in the eyes. "I would love to grant you that, ma chérie, but I have no power over pacts made by others."
She let her hands fall to her sides, while another crazy and completely nonsensical idea worked its way into her brain. The rational part of her kept screaming at her not to do it, but the truth was that the deepest part of her soul had desired it for too long not to ask him. Where had the Samantha who arrived just over two weeks ago gone? The one who wanted to go home but had then found her peace in that hell, the peace she had never managed to find in life.
Don't do it, don't do it, her brain repeated, while her heart only asked for that.
"I want to stay here," she whispered. "I'll give you my soul if you let me stay here."
She felt the demon's body flinch against hers and suddenly pull away, retreating slightly. His smile was still there, but his lips were closed.
"Have you gone completely mad? Do you realize you will die?" he hissed, shocked.
Yes, she knew it very well. She knew she would die, but it would happen to her eventually anyway, and she was quite sure she would return to this place, so she might as well shorten the timeline. She would have liked to say goodbye to Alice, but they would probably meet again someday. Her soul was condemned even if she went home, and in asking him, she had truly felt at peace.
"Do you want to make this deal or not?" she asked, holding her breath. "This is my offer, take it or leave it."
The demon's antlers began to lengthen as he tentatively extended a hand toward her, almost begging her with his gaze not to do it.
Sam closed her eyes and grasped his hand abruptly. A green flash enveloped her before everything went terribly dark.

Notes:

I know, I know. Sam screwed up >.<
But trust me when I say that it's not all as simple as it seems. We still have several mysteries to unravel, so please be patient, I swear it will all make sense; there's a bigger plan.
Anywayyyy... I hope you enjoyed it and were also surprised!
See you Monday for the next update :D
As always, thank you to everyone who reads or reviews the story <3
See you soon!

Chapter 11: Chains

Notes:

Song:
Chains - Fame on Fire

She found herself on her bed, her head confused and her limbs terribly tired. There was someone beside her and for a mad moment she thought it was Alastor, but when she leaned over she found Angel's white tuft of hair near her.
It must have been late because there was only silence around. She tried to retrieve the fragments of what had happened and suddenly remembered the pact she had just stipulated, sitting up and looking at her hands, thinking she had changed appearance.
She was surprised to feel that her body had not changed and she had strangely remained in her human form. She touched her teeth with her tongue, not finding them pointed, and breathed a sigh of relief. In the dark it was impossible to see her own reflection in the mirror in the room and she chose not to turn on the light so as not to wake up her deeply sleeping friend.
She let herself fall back onto the pillow, her heart pounding in her temples.
She was dead. She had killed herself.
She still struggled to understand what the pact with Alastor would entail, but she had done the ultimate screw-up and could only blame herself.
I don't even talk anymore, you're a lost cause murmured the little voice in her head, while she ran a hand through her hair nervously.
And now what would happen to her? She was a soul like the others, yet that future scared her less than the one she had on earth. A tear escaped her eye, but it was one of emotion. That deepest, most instinctual part of her told her it was the right choice, that she was where she was destined to be all along. She felt as if she had rediscovered a long-lost piece of herself, something she couldn't rationally explain. Never as in that moment did she feel complete and satisfied, totally free from something that had strangled her like a chain. She could breathe again, in that Hell she finally felt free. Why did such a wrong choice seem so right?
She also thought of Alastor, his pleading eyes and the worried look he had given her once their pact was stipulated. If he had been right, she shouldn't have felt that way anymore and, above all, she shouldn't have wanted to have him near her, yet that unhealthy desire had shown no sign of disappearing.
I knew that bullshit had nothing to do with it she thought, satisfied, as she wiped the tear that had escaped her control from her face.
Feeling her move, Angel woke up and turned on the bedside light, illuminating the room, then leaned toward her with a worried expression. "Sam, what have you done? You let yourself get killed " he asked with a tremor in his voice.
She turned in his direction, while her friend rested an arm on the pillow to support himself and look at her. "It's all right, I'm happy like this," she replied in a whisper, finally feeling fulfilled in being able to pronounce those words aloud.
The other's eyes widened. "You must have been seriously messed up in life."
You have no idea how much she thought, letting a smile escape. "I tried to ask him to free you, but it wasn't possible," she murmured.
"I know, Alastor told us everything," he replied, annoyed. "That bow-tied jerk ran away after Charlie found out of the deal, she was furious."
Worry gripped her heart at the thought of not seeing him again, but Angel seemed to understand and told her he wouldn't leave the hotel, and she prayed with all her heart that this was the case.
"Besides, now he has both your soul and Husk's, I don't think he would leave you here if he decided to leave," he replied calmly, also lying on his back.
I hope so, after all the trouble he went to get it, it would be the final blow
 
 
 
 
Alastor had remained in his radio tower since he made the deal, he had no intention of hearing the scenes from the princess and her friends. He had simply done what was asked of him, and for a mad moment he thought he would finally feel free from the bond with that now dead girl. But when she collapsed into his arms, he found himself holding her tightly, stroking her cheek, and worrying about her safety.
He was forced to leave when Charlie and Angel burst into the room, smashing the door and railing against him. They were all shocked by the fact that she had kept her human form, and he was too, actually. Perhaps given the strange cause of her death, she hadn't been forced to change her appearance as happened to many damned souls. Not that it mattered that much anyway; her life was over, and the form she would take afterward had no more value.
He started the umpteenth song on his radio station, one of the few he had appreciated in the mixed-up playlist of the girl who had quickly become his obsession.
 
Cancel my thoughts, subscribe to my demons
I've made up my mind, no more deceiving
I'm filling the void, time to get even
 
He had always ignored modern music, but that girl had brought new notes to the melody of his existence, and he found himself appreciating them the exact moment they danced together that evening.
Samantha had been an unpredictable dance, a succession of steps that seemed meaningless at first glance but, upon a second look, appeared to be part of a plan that neither of them could foresee, and which would one day form a much broader picture. Now that he had her soul, however, that damned fictitious bond he had decided to blame for his emotions had not been broken, and he was still trapped in those eyes as black as night, with no possibility of escape.
 
I just can't move on
I've waited for so long
The pain, it goes beyond
I can't lie
 
It should have been so simple, so easy. He had calculated his steps, making sure the pieces moved as he wished, and then that cursed call came, the one he hadn't been able to resist.
He had lied to her the first day they met, because there was no queue to skip.
She had summoned his name, although he couldn't explain how that was possible.
For a mad moment, he had thought she had randomly composed the letters on that makeshift Ouija board, but he had to quickly change his mind. When he looked at her that night on earth, when they danced together, something in his spirit had stirred, called upon by her soul.
He had therefore thought it was a connection created between the human and the summoned demon, but by now that faint hope had vanished.
She remained the thought he couldn't get rid of, the fire that warmed and burned him, the annoying tune that is impossible not to sing.
How had she known his name? She was too frightened to have done it consciously, and he wouldn't reveal it to her, terrified that letting her discover it could give her even greater power over him; she had enough even just like that.
 
If I break out of these chains
Would I save us from this curse?
 
He who had always and only put chains on others, found himself on the leash of a young girl driven by hormonal desires, who had also dragged him into reawakening the lowest instincts of the human race. He hadn't been a saint in life, but that animalistic frenzy that involved his friends at the time had never affected him. He found women pleasant, intangible and almost pure creatures, but he had never allowed himself to be caught by their advances.
Sam, however, was the damned woman who had opened his eyes to a completely different desire. She was terribly irritating, impulsive, and irascible; yet, in her character there was a greater beauty than in all the other women he had known.
She was real; both in her merits and her flaws. And when she danced, she could enchant anyone who watched her, transforming into an almost unearthly creature, untouchable and terribly sensual, and she probably didn't even realize it.
 
Will we turn to ash and burn?
Do you think I'll make it worse?
 
It wasn't supposed to go that way. He had gone up to earth thinking it would be easy to add a living soul to his collection.
Claiming souls that hadn't yet passed away could give enormous power to a demon, significantly increasing their strength, and at that moment he really felt stronger, ready to destroy Lucifer himself if he had the chance.
 
I know I'll be torn apart
If I buried all my pain
 
He couldn't let himself be distracted by her, not now that he was so close to obtaining the power he desired.
All he needed was one more pact with the Princess of Hell; it would be enough to claim a small favour from her without her necessarily selling him her soul. It would be enough not to tell her what he really wanted, and then ask her to surrender the crown and her inheritance to the throne.
With that new strength, no one could oppose him. Thanks to Samantha's soul, he was one step away from realizing his dream.
Now that he had all that power, he just had to reach out to grasp what he had dreamed of.
 
It is my purpose, 'cause I've become a prisoner of my insanity, mixed with the memories
Stuck in my head, I don't know who I'm meant to be
 
In his dreams, however, there was also beginning to be space for her, for the only woman capable of reawakening even a dead soul like his.
He smirked, thinking that now that woman belonged to him and he could do whatever he wanted with her, even if every scenario involved possessing her until she lost her breath.
 
Did I take it way too far
With these scars around my heart?
 
He held his head in his hands, trying to get her out of his mind. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction of being right, she wouldn't manage to put him on a leash.
He remained an Overlord, that damned girl would never command him.
 
 
 
The following morning, Sam felt as if she had been hit by a bus. Every single fibre of her body sent pain signals, and the desire to get out of bed vanished every time she even tried to turn over. Angel was already up, and thankfully, she didn't have to record that day.
She gathered all the courage she was capable of and sat up, still struggling to put her thoughts in order. She observed her body, which remained identical, and was partly grateful for not having taken the form of some animal; perhaps her human appearance would be the only thing she would truly miss. It had taken her years to accept her body as it was; having to change it just when she had started to like it would have been a tough blow to her self-esteem.
She got to her feet, shuffling her slippers across the carpet, and opted not to even put on a tracksuit, heading downstairs in her pyjamas. Should she have felt different? What was she supposed to feel at a time like this? She wasn't sorry about being dead; she had spent so many nights wishing for it and not having the courage to do it that she was numb on that point. She touched the wooden walls with her fingers, letting her fingertips trace along them as she made her way toward the lobby. The sensations of the things around her, the smells, the blood in her veins; everything seemed to have remained as it was in life. She had thought she only felt that way because she hadn't died on earth yet; instead, probably every soul felt like her.
Why wasn't she feeling fear or remorse? What was wrong with her that made her act in such an absurd way and feel so good about it? She didn't have concrete answers, and maybe she didn't really want to look for them either. She just wanted to feel good, to feel that warmth she had missed for years, to have a place to come back to and feel safe.
When she arrived in the lobby, she found almost everyone sitting on the armchairs near the cold fireplace in a sort of meeting. More than a cheerful group of friends, it looked like a full-blown How I Met Your Mother-style intervention, and she thought that jumping into the fire rather than enduring it wouldn't be such a stupid idea after all.
"Hi Sam," Charlie murmured, offering a strained, tense smile. "How about you sit here with us?"
She backed away slowly, raising her hands in a gesture of surrender. "Oh, thank you for the warm invitation, but I think I have a small engagement."
Husk popped out of the armchair, pointing his index finger at her. "Put your ass in that seat, fast!"
She sighed in defeat, dragging herself toward the chair positioned with its back to the fireplace, under Charlie's worried eyes and Vaggie and Husk's angry stares. She began to twist her hands, trying to rock back and forth and praying to fall, faint, and escape that madness. The Princess of Hell looked equally tense, turning her gaze from right to left, her tight lips beginning to tremble from the effort of maintaining a smile.
"Sam, I know this might not be the best time to talk about it; maybe you're still a bit shaken," she began. "But you know, what happened isn't very normal. Don't get me wrong, a part of me is happy that you're here, but maybe..."
"Charlie, I'm really okay," she blurted out, trying to curb the Princess's distress. "I know it's absurd, I realize that. But... I've never been better."
"Oh, great!" Husk yelled, while Pentious tried to disappear behind him. "I've been telling you not to sell your soul since you got here, and you did it anyway! Damn it, Sam, you're reckless."
She sighed, trying to avoid his furious gaze. "Husk, it's not that I didn't want to listen to you... it's that it seemed like the fastest solution to stay with you."
Charlie's eyes became tearful, but she tried to maintain her point. "Sam, I don't think you understand the implications of what you've done. You sold your soul to a demon, and not just any demon, but to Alastor."
She buried her face in her hands, trying to hide. "I'm not saying it was a smart choice, but something kept telling me it was the best thing and trust me when I tell you I've never been better."
It was useless to keep making excuses to the others when she couldn't even invent anything for herself anymore. The truth was that her spirit had somehow calmed down, and deep down, she felt she was walking the right path for the first time in her life.
Vaggie, who had been silent until then, burst out. "Have you completely lost your mind?!"
The sharp scream of the girl's voice, growing more strident with every syllable, pierced her eardrums, forcing her to sink her head into her shoulders as she looked at her with terror; her only good eye was so wide it seemed to occupy the blind side too, and her lips trembled as if she were about to scream again.
She looked at Vaggie, trying to stay calm. "I know it sounds crazy, but..."
"But my ass!" she yelled again. "What in hell makes you think of killing yourself? I thought you were smarter than that, but you're just the same stupid head who thinks her life sucks and prefers to hide her head in the sand instead of facing problems head-on!"
Charlie stood up, trying to place a hand on her partner's shoulder and calm her down, but she rudely shrugged her off and continued to rant, while Sam felt tears starting to sting her eyes. Vaggie's reaction was understandable, especially given the speed at which everything had happened, but she couldn't give more explanations than she already had. She just felt that this was the right thing, and that was it; she didn't have much else to say.
The more Vaggie screamed, insulting her, the more a visceral anger was born within her, unlocking something she had never felt before; a sort of door that slowly reopened to give her a glimpse of what looked exactly like an image from a movie whose title she couldn't remember, and in that film, the protagonist was Vaggie herself. Shining wings, a spear in her hand, shorter hair, and both eyes open on her face.
The words came out of her without control, as if they weren't even hers to utter. "And you're an expert on tackling problems head-on, aren't you?" she hissed venomously.
Vaggie glared at her with her good eye. "And what do you mean by that?"
At that point, Sam stood up to confront her, driven as if by another personality that was gaining ground inside her. "Shall we delve into your past?" she whispered.
Vaggie then grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her violently. "Don't you dare!"
It took all her self-control to prevent that part of her from slamming her to the ground, and she merely freed herself from Vaggie's grasp with a shake of her body. "Why don't you tell everyone the truth?"
"Vaggie, what is she talking about?" Charlie asked worriedly.
Sam found herself smiling as the words tumbled out of her mouth without her really controlling them. "I'm talking about the fact that she's a former angel."
A deathly silence fell over the room, and Vaggie's fury died out as quickly as it had arrived. Sam felt short of breath from the rage with which she had uttered those words, whose meaning she didn't even truly know; as if another, non-belonging personality had spoken, pressing to come out and have its say. Yet, the two images of Vaggie, first with wings and then without, of that extra eye that must have been torn out, still superimposed in front of her eyes. She stood motionless in front of the wooden chair, clenching her fists without lowering her gaze from the other girl, but then felt her face relax and realized what she had just done. She turned her gaze to Charlie, who held her hand mid-air towards her partner and her mouth half-open, as if she wanted to say something but didn't really have the strength. Husk was motionless in his chair, his fur bristling and his ears twitching, while Pentious had almost crawled against the wall. Everyone seemed shocked by the revelation, and she didn't understand why. Was it really a secret? Did no one know anything? It wasn't possible; if she remembered something like that, she must have heard it from them.
"How... how..." Vaggie stammered, distraught. "How... how do you know..."
Charlie finally seemed to come to her senses. "Vaggie, she's lying, right?"
The former angel turned to her with tears in her eyes, while Sam began to feel a deep sense of guilt for what she had just done.
"Sweetheart, it was a long time ago," she whispered. "I didn't tell you because I wanted to protect you."
The Princess of Hell drew back before the other could touch her and ran away, while her partner let her arms fall to her sides as if destroyed.
"Vaggie, I'm sorry, I didn't think that..."
"Shut up," she interrupted with a hiss. "Don't say another word."
Vaggie walked out the lobby door, disappearing from their sight, while Sam and Husk remained motionless in their places and Pentious took his eggs away before they could say anything else and disturb the delicate silence that had settled. It was her first day dead, and she had already ruined the balance of that place; she definitely deserved an award for that.
She slumped back into the chair, turning toward the bartender, who stood with his arms crossed, looking at her with disapproval. "My compliments," he commented.
Sam felt tears prick her eyes, but she pushed them back, trying to regain her composure. "I don't know why I said it, I thought you knew."
Husk sighed, rubbing his temples with his index fingers, trying to massage them. "No, Sam, none of us knew, and honestly, it's not clear to me how you could know."
Yeah, why did I know? she wondered, staring at her familiar body that, for a second, seemed to have been possessed by someone else. Again, that desire to bury problems and pretend they didn't exist surfaced, but this time, there was nowhere to run; she had already reached the end of the line. Maybe she should have taken a ‘Course on Managing Shitty Decisions: How to Avoid Making Them’, though she doubted one existed.
"Husk... I'm sorry," she murmured, hiding her face in her hands. "I don't know why I said it... I swear."
She heard the bartender sigh and shift nervously in his chair. "Look, relax. Panicking won't help you much right now. In this world, we're all weird in our own way; it could be a skill you gained with your death."
She looked up, observing him with perplexity. "What do you mean?"
"Well, your appearance stayed normal, but maybe you're just some kind of seer or something like that," he replied flatly. "I've seen strangeness in this Hell; you're not the first or the most absurd. Maybe next time, though, think before you speak."
She chose to believe his version, even though, deep down, she felt it couldn't just be that. Something had stirred inside her; that same part that told her this was her place and that she was finally home. She chose to bury everything within herself; she wanted to believe Husk's version, she didn't want to be different, she just wanted to be a normal soul in Hell. Was that too much to ask?
"Anyway, don't think you're off the hook," he continued. "I warned you not to sell your soul to Alastor, but you wouldn't listen, and now we're in the same shit."
Sam tried to smile at him. "Better together than alone, right?"
"Sam, for fuck's sake! Can you try to be serious for ten goddamn seconds?"
She raised her palms to the sky, trying to smile again. "How many have passed?"
Husk slumped back into the armchair, huffing with annoyance. "It's useless, you truly have some serious issues; I thought Niffty was the unbalanced one, but you beat her hands down!"
She got back on her feet, trying to compose herself, and looked at the stairs leading to the rooms. "Do you think I should go see Charlie?" she asked him.
"Aren't you done causing trouble yet? Stay here and try not to screw up again," he said menacingly, pointing his index finger at her.
She immediately sat back down, crossing her arms over her chest. "Okay, Dad."
"Fuck, I'm surrounded by assholes," he snapped in exasperation, standing up. "And I really want to meet your dad to ask him how he managed to raise such a lunatic!"
A dull ache hit her chest, but she tried to remain calm. "If you can find him, try; he disappeared about sixteen years ago."
Husk froze in place with his back to her, his fur starting to bristle again. Another sigh escaped his mouth, and his ears drooped. "Sorry, I didn't know," he mumbled.
In response, she shrugged, pretending not to care about the matter. "It's okay, I managed even without him."
The bartender turned to her, his gaze saddened and a bitter smile on his face. "He's the one who lost out, anyway."
She wanted to go and hug him, but she knew Husk wasn't the type for physical displays of affection, so she gave him a simple look of gratitude. Sam had called him Dad as a joke, but Husk, despite his abrupt and unconventional ways, had tried to take care of her like the father she never had, and for a crazy moment, she wished to think of him that way.
"How sweet you two are".
Alastor's voice burst into the room before his body, which appeared seated on the bar stool, lazily spinning it with one foot to the right and left, his back resting against the counter behind him.
The bartender turned to her worriedly, mouthing the words, ‘Don't screw up’, but she had become a master in the art of rash decisions and had already fixed the Overlord with a look of fire.
"It's really not the day this time; find another day to come gloat about your victory," she replied, trying to ignore his eyes. It was the first time they had seen each other since he took her soul, and she still didn't fully understand the implications of that deal, only that he would somehow possess her.
‘Extreme, exciting sex’, she heard Angel's voice say that phrase in her ears as if he were there with her, and she let out an amused little smile.
The smile on her face didn't last long because, in the blink of an eye, she felt her throat gripped in a vise and she was violently slammed to the floor, barely managing to put her hands down to avoid hitting her face. Her breath caught in her chest, and a chain surrounded by a greenish light appeared before her eyes, reaching down to her neck like a long leash.
She looked up, and Alastor was in front of her, holding one end, his eyes half-closed in a victorious expression and a wide smile on his face, the deer antlers having regrown on top of his head.
Before she could pull herself up, he tugged the chain again, and she found herself kneeling before him, her head lifted in his direction. The demon's neck had unnaturally lengthened again, and he towered over her, lowering his head towards her, almost touching her head.
"Ma chérie, the days when you could answer me with impunity are over. You are mine now " he hissed.
A shiver ran down her spine upon hearing that sentence, and her body was moved by a tremor of fear. She had definitely thought too little about the implications of that deal and found herself in a situation bigger than her, one she couldn't get out of.
She had to congratulate herself; she had completely messed up her life for that call of home and to make a point with that demon, to show him that the desire they felt for each other was dictated by nothing but themselves. Was she an idiot? Of course, she was. Did she regret it? Unfortunately, no.
The chain tightened around her neck, and she tried to pull it off with little success; the more she struggled, the tighter the grip became, and the demon licked his lips, almost enjoying seeing her subdued that way.
"You are only mine” he said that phrase, leaning closer to her ear so Husk, who remained motionless behind them with a defeated look, wouldn't hear it. "Now, I imagine you don't feel anything anymore".
Sam remained motionless, waiting for him to move to look at her, trying to maintain a confident gaze and whispering in turn. "You were wrong about that."
He pulled the chain again, forcing her to lift slightly off her knees to avoid being choked by it, and she found him just millimetres from her face. "No, I wasn’t."
In his eyes, she read a kind of fear, as if he, too, was scared that things hadn't changed for either of them, even though their current situation put him in an extremely advantageous position.
Sam forced herself not to show fear but began to cough because the chain was too tight. "Am I wrong, or is the Radio Demon scared?"
Alastor's grin widened again, and the stitching on his mouth began to reappear, a sign that she was seriously pissing him off. He manifested a part of his terrible power, as shadow tentacles began to emerge from his back again, and a gloomy growl made its way up his throat. She found herself lifted again as he tightened his grip, bringing his hand close to her throat and lifting her a few millimetres off the ground. Her breath hitched, and she began to try to detach his hand, which held the metal she was chained to.
"Why are you not afraid?" he was almost shouting, even as his tone remained deep and sinister.
Sam wanted to answer, but the lack of breath wouldn't allow her, and she found herself desperately coughing for oxygen, while her lungs began to burn.
When the demon realized her condition, he seemed to recover from the fury that had ignited him and let her go, bringing her back down to the ground and holding her back to prevent her from falling backward. He held her close, and his eyes seemed to fill with concern. The chain dissolved, and she leaned her forehead against his chest.
"Will you ever admit it?" she asked, still panting and coughing.
Alastor's smile faded, and he looked at her with a hint of irony in his gaze. "The fact that you are not hanging from the ceiling should give you an answer" he said that phrase so softly that it was difficult even for her to hear it, but immediately after, he vanished into thin air, leaving her lying on the ground.
Husk was beside her in a second, trying to support her, and she rested against his soft chest while he held her by the shoulders.
"You have to stop pissing him off; you're not free anymore, and he could tear your soul to pieces just for the pleasure of hearing you scream, never forget that."
She wanted to reply with something ironic, but her brain was emitting that flat-line hiss again, and she chose to remain motionless in his arms, seeking comfort. Alastor had just taken a huge step forward with that sentence, even if she had had to resort to selling her soul to get it out of him. Anyway, it was one-to-one, and the ball was back in the centre.
Okay, maybe he was ahead by three points, to be honest.
"Ahem, ahem," someone coughed. "Should I know something?"
Angel had popped out of the lobby door and was looking at them, holding one pair of arms on his hips and the others crossed.
Sam gave him a genuine smile. "Don't worry, he's all yours."
Husk let go of her abruptly, almost making her fall. "I am absolutely no one's!"
 
 
 
She had explained to Angel what had happened, but he had reacted with almost indifference, saying that in the end, it was better to have an ally who knew the angels, and at that point, Sam headed upstairs.
She decided to try going to Charlie's room, from which the princess had not emerged for a full two hours. In front of it, the two small winged rams were standing guard, half-asleep, but they did not seem to mind her presence, letting her pass. Perhaps secretly slipping them food from under the table during dinners had softened them toward her.
She tried knocking but got no answer and decided to go in. The curtains were drawn, and the room was completely dark. From the bed, a rolled-up, trembling ball of sheets indicated the Princess of Hell's location, along with a stack of dirty tissues.
She felt nervous about talking to her, but why should she be? Oh, right, she had just revealed that the love of her life was an angel who had probably been exterminating the people Charlie was trying to protect until recently; that's why.
She took a deep breath to calm down and sat down on the red sheets next to the weeping cocoon.
"Charlie," she murmured, trying to stroke her shoulder. "I'm so sorry."
The demoness's sobs increased as she sniffled. "Why didn't she tell me? I would have understood, I wouldn't have judged her. We've been together for three years, and she never even tried to talk to me about it."
Sam sighed. She was not suited for comforting people, especially since, given the amount of trouble she managed to get into, she was certainly not an example to follow.
"Maybe she was afraid. I don't think it was easy for her to keep that secret, especially from you. She really loves you," she whispered.
Charlie turned, letting her eyes, swollen from crying, peek out from under the sheet. "I feel so stupid... I don't understand why she would lie to me so blatantly."
"People always do crazy things when they're in love."
Well done, stealing lines from Disney movies now, she told herself, deeply ashamed of that lapse in style; she could have at least tried to come up with something decent instead of clichés.
Charlie pulled herself up to a sitting position, hugging her legs to her chest and resting her chin on her knees while trying to hold back her tears. "Like you?"
Sam jumped so much she almost fell off the bed, while all kinds of alarm signals went off in her head. Her? Love? And for whom? For Alastor? Oh no, no, and no. Lust, desire, excitement might be the correct words, but she was far from love, she was sure of it. Right?
She felt her face turn hot and probably cycle through all shades of red and purple as she raised her hands in the air and fanned them in front of her. "Hold on, no," she replied curtly. "I did it for me, not for Alastor."
Charlie gave her a look that said, ‘Please don't talk shit’.
"And you're staying in Hell because you like it?"
She shrugged in response. "Hey, everyone has their tastes, however poor."
"Don't think you can get away with it, Sam; we need to talk about this sooner or later," the princess said seriously, fixing her red eyes on her.
Sam sighed, resigned. "Okay, but shouldn't we focus on you right now?"
The princess returned to resting her chin on her knees. "There's not much to do for me; I forgave Vaggie the exact moment I found out," she said, her eyes welling up again. "We spoke on the phone a little while ago, and we thought it might be better to stay apart for a few days to reflect on it."
She gave her a sincere smile, feeling a deep tenderness. The Princess of Hell's heart was so big that probably her entire kingdom wouldn't be able to contain it, and this confirmed what she already thought; she was the best person she had ever met in her life.
"Tell me the truth, how did you know about Vaggie?"
Bingo, there's the right question, she thought mournfully, starting to twist her hands. She didn't even know herself; in fact, she felt as if she had seen that image through someone else's eyes, as if they didn't belong to her.
"I don't know, Charlie, I'm serious," she whispered. "But Husk might be right; maybe I'm a seer or something."
The demoness's eyes grew worried. "That's a hypothesis, but do you want to settle for just that?"
Abnormal in my world, abnormal here, what's new? she thought, rolling her eyes. "Maybe it's normal for me, what do we know?"
Charlie nodded, unconvinced. "If it helps you sleep better, tell yourself that, but you'll have to face it eventually."
"Can we do later?"
"Sam!"
She lay down on the bed next to her, and they both stared at the ceiling. "I know it's all absurd; I don't expect you to understand it. But seriously, I'm happy... I feel at home," she murmured.
The princess squeezed her hand affectionately, giving her a sweet smile. "It will be your home for as long as you want it to be, Sam; we are here," she replied. "Even if you have terrible taste in men."
She cocked an eyebrow, grabbed a pillow, and threw it at her face. They ended up laughing, both finally more serene, as they enjoyed each other's friendship and comfort.
Sam found herself genuinely happy at that moment, thinking that despite all the trouble, this choice was the right one.
She was dead, but she was at peace.
 
 
 
She thought the day couldn't get any worse, but instead, things quickly headed down the negative path that had haunted her even in life.
Angel had told her that Vox wanted to see her the next day; the show had gone very well, and he intended to exploit the interest to line his pockets. Obviously, she couldn't back out, or Angel would pay the consequences, and she couldn't allow that.
She had retreated to her room again, as the library was now off-limits due to the fear of Alastor coming to spy on her and discovering what she intended to do.
She started scrolling through the playlist, trying to focus on new ideas, but her head was too busy to even try to think about it seriously.
She tried moving to a few songs, but none seemed suitable for the situation those two creeps would want to set up.
A movement behind her caused her to turn around, and she found Alastor seated in her room's desk chair, his legs elegantly crossed and his staff resting beside him.
"So, a seer?" he said, smiling. "Do you see anything about my future or my past, ma chérie?"
She looked at him, annoyed. "I see a kick in your ass if you don't leave right now."
Alastor wagged his index finger right and left in front of himself, clicking his tongue against his palate. "No, no, I remind you that I am the one in command here".
She crossed her arms over her chest, looking at him scornfully. "Fine, knock-off Mr. Grey, could you kindly leave? I have things to do."
"Mr. Who?" he asked, perplexed.
She ran a hand over her face. "Seriously, Alastor, I have to prepare another choreography for tomorrow."
The demon's eyes narrowed to a slit. "I thought your retirement from the stage was implied, now that your soul is mine".
Sam sighed, exhausted. "Alastor, please" she murmured.
Going against him like a ram would no longer work, also because he literally held her in the palm of his hand; the only chance she had was to reason with him, as much as one could reason with someone like him.
"Smile, Sam, aren't you happy to get out of that filth? Or must I deduce that you liked it?"
Count, Sam, count to a thousand, she repeated to herself, feeling her cheeks swell from the air she was holding in.
"I'll do anything you want, but please don't stop me from helping Angel."
Alastor stood up, tapping his nails on the staff he held in his left hand and confidently advancing toward her. She backed up until she hit the wardrobe behind her.
"I want you to stop flailing around like you're having an epileptic fit for that flat-faced fellow. I only allow you to keep answering me in certain ways because I find your impudence vaguely amusing and stimulating" he replied curtly, his sharp teeth clearly visible from his perpetual smile.
Count to two thousand, she repeated to herself, clenching her fists to avoid exploding. "Do you realize they will beat him up every single day? Don't you really care?"
He shook his head, his red and black hair swaying in front of his face. "Not particularly, although I admit that pissing off the Vees gives me a certain joy. I don't understand your and Husk's affection for our effeminate friend".
Sam ran her hands through her hair, on the verge of exploding. "Maybe because, unlike you, he's not an asshole with a stick up his ass and is worthy of affection?" she burst out.
You should have counted to four thousand, she thought disconsolately, seeing the demon's eyes narrow in an annoyed look.
"I'm sorry to disappoint your expectations, but I think Angel Dust has other kinds of tastes; you shouldn't fall in love".
Counting even to a million wouldn't have helped, and she found herself inches from the demon's face, railing against him. "Oh, damn it, are you all obsessed with love! For fuck’s sake, other feelings exist, like respect, friendship, affection..."
"Lust".
"Exactly! Wait, what?"
Before she realized it, she was caught in a violent, closed-mouth kiss. He had run one hand through her hair and with the other, he held her back, making her lean slightly backward. She had desired that contact, but she would never have expected him to give in that way at a moment when they were even arguing.
Discussing probably excites him, she thought to herself, as she found herself wrapping her arms around his neck, trying to deepen the kiss by opening her mouth.
Alastor then sharply pulled away from her, stepping back. "Damn it. It's not possible" he hissed.
Sam brought a hand to her chest, trying to calm her heart that felt like it wanted to explode. She felt short of breath and the urge to immediately return to his arms.
"I told you" she replied confidently. "The fact that I called you had nothing to do with any of this."
Alastor held his head in his hands, his eyes wide and his smile strained. "You are like an impossible infection to eradicate".
"Oh, how sweet," she replied ironically. "Any other nice comments? Because otherwise, I have things to do," and she gestured towards the door.
The Radio Demon gave her a wild look, then strode back toward her. "I thought I was clear, you are not setting foot back there, EVER!"
It was Sam's turn to back away as the demon practically imprisoned her with his gaze. "If you don't care, then let me go; what do you care what I do? You don't seem to get so angry about Husk."
The demon's teeth began to grate, as if he was struggling not to yell. "You are truly obtuse! You are mine, mine!"
"Then if you want me so badly, why don't you take me?!"
An unreal silence fell between them as they faced each other like two rams, head-to-head, eyes locked. They were both breathing heavily, unable to stop staring, as if it were a challenge where the first to lower their gaze would lose the game. Sam wanted to eliminate the distance between them, but it wasn't her turn this time; he had to finally take a stand.
She waited for seconds that felt like an eternity, until Alastor's expression seemed to frown, and in the blink of an eye, he was the one to end that useless battle from which both would have emerged defeated. Again, she found his lips on hers, and this time, he allowed her to deepen the contact. He tasted of whiskey and metal, a strong flavour she couldn't get enough of in that moment, and she prayed with all her being that he wouldn't run away again, to the point that she remained motionless with her eyes closed, afraid of breaking the spell that had just been created.
He began to squeeze her almost compulsively, taking her breath away and pushing her against the wardrobe, which creaked under their weight. She tried to wrap her arms around his neck, but he blocked her hands along her sides to prevent her.
"You are a real..."
"Shhh," he whispered against her lips. "Don't talk."
Again, his voice, the real one, and she melted like ice in the sun, abandoning all resistance.
She let him undress her, caress her, bite her neck, and quickly found herself in her underwear with the deep desire to cling to him, as had happened the day before, but she anxiously waited for him to choose what to do. She could hear him breathing as raggedly as she was, tracing the outline of her breast with his clawed fingers, then descending to her buttocks and squeezing them to pull her closer to his body.
All her problems were far away again, vanished among the caresses of the Overlord, who was clearly enjoying the power he held over her.
"I've found a way to shut you up," he whispered close to her ear, biting her lobe.
Sam clenched her teeth at the slight pain and wanted to answer him, but his lips immediately silenced her. She took courage and moved her hand toward the crotch of his pants, but he immediately blocked her wrist, holding it still.
"Don't you dare" he growled.
Sam put on a look of feigned indignation. "It's not fair like this."
"Who said it has to be?"
She suddenly found herself on her back on the bed, the Radio Demon towering over her, tracing her neck with his tongue, then descending between her breasts, stopping at her abdomen, and rising again in a slow torture. She hated him for making her feel so submissive and happy to be so, like a rag doll without will, guided only by the desire to be satisfied. Furthermore, she felt shamefully wet even from those mere caresses and felt terribly embarrassed. She thought back to Charlie's lessons on sex and redemption, but if going dry produced those shameful effects, she would definitely pass.
"Your soul is only mine," he suddenly whispered, slipping his hand into her underwear and beginning to touch her. "Remember that."
She sighed when he began to tease her clitoris with circular movements of his thumb, and she bit her lip to try to hold back her moans. Yes, she was truly his. He had occupied her thoughts since she met him, and she couldn't imagine any hands other than his, no other mouth kissing her, no one else she would want to be possessed by.
Without stopping his touch, he ran his lips over her bra, then pushed it aside with his free hand and began to suck and lick avidly. She dug her fingers into the sheets beneath her, trying to maintain at least a minimum of composure.
She heard him fumbling with his pants, but without undressing completely, and she was deeply disappointed. She was genuinely curious to see that body in its entirety.
She tried to reach out to take off his jacket, but he blocked her again, gripping both wrists in one hand. "No."
Sam sighed bitterly. "Then let's stop."
Alastor broadened his smile with a mischievous air. "Oh, so you want me to stop?" he asked her.
She felt the fabric of her panties tear, likely ripped away by the demon above her, who kept his vermillion eyes fixed on hers, a victorious smile on his face. He brought the tip of his cock to her, and she literally began to see red. That damn guy knew what he was doing and was well aware of it. She bit her lips to hold back a moan, while trying to make a bland and totally unconvinced resistance by slightly clenching her thighs.
"I despise you," she hissed at him, biting his lip.
Alastor smiled, running his tongue where she had struck him. "A mutual feeling."
He entered her suddenly, stealing her breath, and she found herself letting her head fall back as her back arched. Within a couple of thrusts, she got used to his presence, and that encounter soon turned into a kind of struggle for supremacy, where Alastor tried to restrain her to avoid being stripped, and she, in turn, violently bit his lips and neck when they kissed, which only elicited sighs of pleasure from him. With every thrust, their breaths grew more erratic, and she felt almost dragged into oblivion and ever closer to absolute pleasure. She never would have imagined it could be so perfect despite the continuous fight they were setting up, yet she wouldn't have changed a thing. Their relationship, after all, had been like that since they arrived in Hell, when she began to realize she didn't want to leave and thus no longer let herself be subdued by the fear she should have felt toward him.
Fear? Perhaps she hadn't felt enough if she continued in this way, if she had chosen to give him her soul first and then her body. She had granted him everything in the blink of an eye; yet, she would retrace every single step to find herself beneath him in that moment of pure ecstasy.
He wouldn't let go of her wrists while resting his forehead against hers. Sam tried to respond to his thrusts as best she could, digging her feet into the mattress and arching her back to allow him to sink even deeper into her.
The demon must have been as clouded as she was, because the grip on her arms became significantly less firm, and she took advantage of it to free herself and grab his face with her hands to kiss him passionately. At that point, Alastor slid his free hand under her back to squeeze her even closer to him as he steadily increased the rhythm. With his other hand, he held onto the headboard of the bed, which was clawed to the point of leaving deep gouges caused by his nails. She wrapped her hands around his neck, pulling him closer so he wouldn't pull away from that kiss, charged with passion and desire, until they were forced to break apart to catch their breath. Their moans of pleasure grew more intense, and she sought his gaze, but he kept his eyes fixed on her lips without looking her in the eyes.
Perhaps the next day she would regret what they were doing, perhaps she would look back on that moment hating herself, but this was not the right time for her to reflect. With Alastor, everything became instinctual, passionate, and reason lost importance.
"Look at me," she whispered, searching for his eyes.
Finally, he lifted them, and their gazes merged into one, like the accelerated beats of their hearts. The desire that had risked suffocating them was now making them burn with a passion that seemed impossible to extinguish, and she could see it in how intensely he stared at her, with a look she wished she could photograph to keep with her forever.
They soon come on each other's lips, their tongues never parting, continuing to move as they held back strangled cries.
The demon's gaze quickly shifted, and it was immediately clear to Sam that he wouldn't stop there with her; in fact, he would surely escape.
She inhaled his scent deeply as he placed a kiss on her forehead, almost like a goodbye, before disappearing into thin air.
She remained motionless for several seconds, looking at the canopy over the bed, her breath still irregular from the orgasm she had just had, and her heart beating slower and slower.
She had gotten what she wanted, so why did she feel so incomplete now that he was gone? Of all the absurdities she had committed, this feeling was the one she forgave herself for the least. She couldn't get attached to him; she wouldn't allow herself that.
At least she had to spare herself that feeling.
 
 
 
Alastor found himself in the kitchen; an insatiable hunger had struck him the moment he stepped away from the girl whose soul he possessed, and there was nothing better than a jambalaya to satiate himself and clear his mind of a few thoughts.
He finely sliced the ingredients for the soffritto, just as his mother had taught him as a child, while he perched on the kitchen counter, watching her with admiration. Despite all the changes he had faced in his existence, the deep love that bound him to his mother remained the only constant, and he couldn't hide a sense of relief when he discovered she was not in Hell with him. She had suffered enough in life; she deserved a peaceful place to rest and not see the monster her son, her adored boy, had become.
He tossed everything into a pan, flipping it absently, while carefully selecting the spices from the wooden shelves to add along with the ground meat.
‘Remember, Al, the secret is the right measurements’ she always told him as she measured the flavours with the aid of a spoon and lowered the heat to let everything brown with the proper patience.
Familiar scents began to spread as he continued the preparation, and a new pang went through him along with the memories of her. The calm he had just found was short-lived, and he found himself dragging his claws across the kitchen counter, scratching it.
The last time they had prepared that dish together, he was nearly thirty and only a few months away from the definitive start of his criminal career. The lack of a guide like her had made him completely lose his way, and he had let go of the part he had tried to repress in every way possible so as not to disappoint her. What would she have thought of the assassin? The serial killer who enjoyed dismembering his victims?
That last day, they had talked for a long time while he watched summer approach outside the window, bringing the humid heat rising from the Louisiana swamps, and enjoyed the familiar scent, smiling at the woman who, despite her advancing age, remained delicate and sweet. Her wide smile and white teeth against dark skin, her eyes the same intense black as his, and a white apron that smelled clean, like her.
He hated himself for remembering so little of those final words they exchanged, for having forgotten the warmth of the kisses she gave him on his forehead before setting the plate on the table. She had scolded him for the thousandth time for being a confirmed bachelor, but he had repeatedly told her he had no particular interest in that kind of commitment. He had lied to her that day, and she had noticed, placing her hands on her hips and looking at him sternly.
‘You are not a good liar, mon cher’ and he had laughed, amused by her teasing tone. The truth was that there was a woman whose face he couldn't even remember since he passed, yet at the time, she seemed like the most important thing of all. He planned to introduce her to his mother at the end of the summer as a surprise and then move in with her to the house next door; an old ruin that needed renovations, but he would do his best to make it a worthy home.
‘The important thing is that you want her enough to desire only her, mon enfant. There is nothing worse than a man who leads a woman on. Promise me that if someone ever comes along, she will be the only one’.
And he had promised her, he had assured her that the day a woman arrived who was equal to his beloved mother, she would be the only one he would allow to touch him, and she had laughed so hard, telling him that she wouldn't stop kissing him on the forehead, even in front of that hypothetical girl.
He had genuinely kept that damn promise until just a few days ago. The promise made to his mother, who had died prematurely, killed by a bastard who tried to rape her. He had kept it even when that girl vanished from his mind, replaced by the urge to kill those vile beings, even when he damned his soul to pursue his goals. Even when he arrived in Hell and couldn't even recall the sound of her voice or what the face of the girl he wanted to introduce to his mother looked like. To be honest with himself, he didn't even know if he had been the one to leave or her. Worse still, he didn't even remember one time they had met, not even one location where she might have struck him. He only knew there had been a woman, but nothing of her remained in his memories. Sometimes that idea was so hazy that he wondered if she had really existed or if he had only imagined her after his death.
He was so absorbed in these thoughts that he didn't notice he had left the flame too high, burning everything he had prepared. Furious, he struck the pan, which spilled its contents onto the floor, staining the floor and the kitchen counters.
Sam.
It was all her fault he hadn't been able to keep that damned promise, the only thing he had clung to remain empty and devoid of feelings. She had managed to make him yield. The memory of what had happened just minutes earlier inflamed him again, as the images of that naked body beneath his reignited his desire. He would have wanted to stay with her all night, hold her close, and fall asleep beside her, unite with her again until they were utterly exhausted and drained. It had been far too fulfilling and pleasant to pretend otherwise. The moment he entered her and felt her body welcome him in a tight embrace, he had thought he wouldn't last more than a minute, and to avoid making a poor impression, he had prevented her from touching him any further.
Her body was soft, proportionate, more inviting than any delicacy he had ever tasted in his earthly and spiritual existence. He burned at the thought of those narrow hips converging in that wet flower that had enchanted him and compelled him to pluck it with incomparable pleasure. He tried to stop thinking about it, but each time he felt the sensation of her skin in his hands, her taste on his lips, and the warmth of her body intimately enveloping him in a tight, sensual caress.
It was useless to lie to himself; he found her damn beautiful, and in the end, she had managed to make him yield. It was enough to know that she was his for eternity, as if that realization had unlocked something in his mind. He hadn't been able to reflect; he had only been guided by that fire that seemed to incinerate his heart, and the only way to extinguish it was to have her. He had hoped that once that absurd whim was satisfied, he would stop thinking about her; instead, it hadn't happened, and now he was there, eating away at his soul at the thought of her alone in that room, consumed by the urge to return to her.
It had been too much. Feeling her around him, embracing him in that intimate way he didn't know if he had experienced in life or not. It had probably happened, but who knows with whom; he couldn't remember. He found himself wondering if it had happened with that woman who seemed so important during those days of his life, but she no longer held any value.
Sam was the only one who made him feel that way, and he felt the terrible fear that one day she would manage to steal even that heart he had always held so tightly.
A light knock on the door roused him, and he composed himself, trying to look at least serene.
"Alastor, is everything alright?"
The voice of the Princess of Hell, the one who, in his plans, was his primary target to obtain the crown of Hell. The initial plan was to kill her as soon as she let her guard down, but he had found himself developing a genuine feeling of almost paternal affection toward her, and so he had opted for a less bloody path: forcing her to surrender the crown by striking a deal at the right moment. He found himself wondering where the cold calculator he had been before setting foot in that cursed hotel had gone.
He turned toward her, smiling cheerfully. "Of course, just a minor culinary incident, nothing our beloved Niffty can't fix".
Charlie remained with her hand resting on the door frame, biting her lip. "It's about Sam, isn't it?"
Alastor felt an electric jolt run through his body upon hearing that name. "If you are here to lecture me about the deal I made with her, you are wasting your precious time, Princess. You cannot redeem everyone, especially an Overlord".
He saw the girl's eyes grow darker and fill with anger. "Maybe I can't, but you know you wanted her to keep her close; I know you too well."
"You don't know me at all" he replied coldly, clenching his teeth.
Charlie scoffed. "Do as you wish; they are your choices, and honestly, you two are sometimes unnerving together. It would be so easy to just be honest with each other."
He approached her, looking her straight in the eyes. "I am honest; I was interested in her soul, and I took it. End of discussion".
The Princess of Hell looked down below his chin, then smiled ironically. "Is that a hickey on your neck?"
He froze, feeling his breath stop. "Merde".
"Goodnight, Overlord," she said, laughing, leaving him alone in the kitchen.
He remained motionless, internally cursing himself for having let such a detail slip, but finding himself gently touching the spot where she had looked with a sort of positive nostalgia.
He shouldn't worry; Sam was his and would remain so for eternity, and sooner or later, this madness would subside, freeing him forever from his new obsession.
 
 
 
Sam had gotten up very early, thinking she would avoid Alastor. She had stayed awake almost all night agonizing over how to behave with him from that moment on, but those sleepless hours had yielded no results. The only thing they left her with were noticeable purple circles under her eyes that made her look like a panda. The only sensible thing seemed to be to pretend nothing had happened and hope he did the same.
She had to admit to herself, however, that deep down, she hoped he would say something to her or at least be interested in repeating the recent experience.
It had been too satisfying to feel him inside her, and she found herself thinking, not without blushing, that his lean physique concealed enviable proportions, even though she hadn't gotten to see it, given how things had gone between them. She hated that she hadn't been able to observe him better; she was genuinely curious to discover how that body looked like under his clothes, but she would try again one day.
She splashed ice-cold water on her face, hoping it would also clear her head, and decided to go downstairs.
The Radio Demon must have been awake for quite a while because she found him sitting at the breakfast table, a deer carpaccio in front of him and a newspaper in his hands.
Should she say something to him? What do one say after a night of sex?
The arrival of Angel and Charlie managed to save her from embarrassment; she settled down with them at the far end of the table, away from the Overlord, as a heavy silence fell over everyone, interrupted only by the sound of cutlery on plates. She watched him covertly, but every time the night of passion just spent came back to her mind, and she felt her cheeks growing warm - and not just those - to the point that she forced herself to clench her legs for some relief.
Niffty arrived almost immediately to clear the used plates, nearly whisking away her unfinished breakfast.
She noticed Charlie looking first at Alastor and then at her, giving her suggestive glances, while Angel mimed obscene gestures under the table so the demon wouldn't notice.
Was it that obvious? Or had she screamed? Oh God, had they heard her?
She sank into the chair, trying to cover her face with her hair to avoid the winks from her two friends, and was thankful that Alastor's face was hidden by the newspaper, on which the headline ‘Sinistagram: The New Challenge Claims More Victims Than the Extermination’ was enthroned.
"Babe, you look tired, fiery night?" Angel asked her, and she nearly choked on the orange juice she was drinking.
Charlie patted her on the back, trying to suppress her laughter.
"Oh, you look so pale; you need to relax a bit, to unwind a little more," he continued relentlessly, making her cheeks incandescent.
She mouthed ‘Stop it’ with her lips, while Sir Pentious also emerged from the lounge, looking at the scene perplexed, hissing tongue out of his mouth.
"Seriously, Sam, you should sleep a little more and not stay up so late," Charlie continued, embarrassed but at the same time amused by the situation.
The snake demon approached her, scrutinizing her carefully, and she wanted to disappear into the floor. "You actually have strange marks on your neck; it looks like a bedbug or some other particularly fanged animal bit you. Maybe Niffty should disinfect your room better."
This is a nightmare, someone get me out, she thought exasperatedly, almost crawling under the table, while the Radio Demon continued to read his newspaper as if those comments were not also directed at him.
Husk also entered the room, and she wanted to run away, but luckily, the jokes finally seemed to have stopped, or so she hoped.
"Seriously, babe, you really look spent."
The bartender perked up his ears, looking at those present and remaining with the chair in his hand, about to move it to sit down. "I'm too sober for this bullshit," he hissed, walking away.
At that point, she let her forehead drop onto the table, realizing that no matter how they had found out, they wouldn't let the new mess she had gotten herself into go unnoticed. Husk was right; she couldn't go ten seconds without doing something stupid.
The spider demon’s cell phone vibrated on the table, and his expression shifted from hilarity to panic. "I think we should get moving; Val seems pissed today."
Sam noticed Alastor lowering the newspaper and looking at her intimidatingly, seeming to communicate with his eyes that she shouldn't dare get up from that table. However, she hadn't changed her mind on that point, and preventing further suffering for her friend remained fundamentally important; therefore, she tried to ignore him while quickly swallowing what was on her plate to get up.
She took a few steps toward the corridor to return to her room, but a strong grip on her neck stopped her. The chain she had just gotten to know had reformed, and turning around, she saw the demon standing in the doorway of the room, under the astonished gaze of Charlie and Sir Pentious.
"Little lost soul, where do you think you're going?"
The Princess of Hell slapped a hand on her forehead, exasperated, as she stood up to try to defuse the situation. "Alastor, she's doing it for Angel. Let her go."
"Yes, let me go," she hissed back, gripping the chain tightly and trying to remove it with little success.
However, the demon did not seem inclined to listen to either of them and held her firmly. "What I do with my souls is none of your business, Princess. You have no jurisdiction over deals signed by others".
Charlie's defeated look made her realize that she was trapped; this time, she couldn't do anything to help her.
Angel came up behind her, gently placing a hand on her back. "You did your best, Sam; I'll be fine," he whispered, trying to reassure her with his smile.
The helplessness she felt in that situation was terrible, and tears began to sting her eyes as she deeply hated herself for even affectionately thinking about the demon holding her chained like a dog on a leash. When she saw her friend walk away, she collapsed onto her knees, while the other guests retreated to leave her alone to catch her breath.
She saw Alastor's shadow looming behind her and turned around, her gaze filled with anger. "You are such a piece of..."
"Ah, ah, ah, I wouldn't say that if I were you, ma chérie" he laughed out, wagging his index finger right and left in front of her face. "And besides, you should thank me; I saved you from a very bad situation".
The chain dissolved, and she pulled herself up to face him as best she could. "You only think about your personal gain; you're selfish."
Alastor narrowed his eyes. "You shouldn't continue; you haven't seen anything yet. Things can go downhill very quickly".
She had been under his yoke for less than twenty-four hours and was already fed up, and she found herself wondering how Husk had managed to endure that torture for years. She turned her back to him to leave, but he tried to tighten the chain again, and this time she did her best to resist him. She felt the metal cutting into her neck, but she no longer cared. In front of her eyes, she only saw her friend's bruised face because of the beating he would take if she didn't show up. She realized that Alastor was somehow losing his grip on the leash and continued despite the pain. She felt a strange strength rising within her, something she had never experienced before that moment.
"Sam, stop," he seemed to plead her.
But she wasn't listening; she pulled, struggled, and cried. She tightened her fingers around the metallic collar, scratching herself and almost tearing off her nails. She wasn't made to be in chains; she couldn't tolerate it. She wanted to continue making her own decisions - however questionable and stupid - and do what she thought was best for herself and others.
"Sam!"
She pulled again, and the chain snapped in a green flash, making her fall to the floor. Alastor was thrown back, and for the first time, she saw real terror in his eyes. She anxiously touched her neck, realizing that there was no collar restraining her anymore; she was free. The strength that had pervaded her limbs seemed to vanish as it had arrived, leaving her drained and trembling on the ground. Only they must have noticed what had happened because no one came to check.
She turned to Alastor as she finally caught her breath, he still motionless on the floor. "You... you freed me" she whispered, convinced that was really the reason why that grip on her soul had dissolved.
Alastor seemed to have stopped breathing. Something had made him almost catatonic, and she got up to approach him cautiously. The demon was looking in her direction but didn't seem to truly see her, the remains of the broken chain in one hand.
"Thank you" she whispered, crouching beside him, taking his hand and giving him a grateful look.
The demon abruptly pulled away, his eyes turning black again. "How did you do that?" he exclaimed, filled with rage.
Sam remained with her hand stretched toward him, trembling and still scared by what had just happened. "What do you mean?"
He seemed to finally regain consciousness and pulled himself to his feet, dusting off his pants and looking down at her with empty eyes.
"I didn't free you; you did it yourself".

Notes:

AND THEY FINALLY F****!
Hahaha, yes, it took exactly 11 chapters to reach this milestone, but better late than never. Sooner or later, I had to decide to use the story's "erotic" tag more seriously.
But... with the good things, "bad" things also come, and Sam manages to free herself from the deal with Alastor >.< not to mention the strange vision of Vaggie.
I hope you like the chapter, and thank you so, so much for everything <3
See you again on Monday with the next chapter.
Big kiss! :*

Chapter 12: Bang!

Notes:

Songs:
In the middle of the night – Loveless
Bang Bang – Will.I.Am

She remained on the floor, staring up at him, who was still looming over her. Even though he was the one defeated, he looked utterly composed. She was the one absolutely petrified by what had just gone down.
Angel had chatted her ear off about the binding pacts struck by damned souls; there wasn't a will strong enough in all of Hell to break one. Yet, she’d somehow managed to shatter a bond that was supposed to be indissoluble.
And that was terrifying.
Too many damn things were getting wonky in her new life in Hell, and she started wondering if she shouldn’t have just stayed back on Earth.
She tasted real fear for the first time; the deep, gut-wrenching kind that locks your limbs and scrambles your brain.
The visuals in front of her grew hazy and intangible. She could see Alastor mouthing words above her, but she couldn’t make out a thing he was saying. She was teetering on the brink of a full-blown panic attack, as images flashed before her eyes.
A life that wasn't hers, yet she was certain it could have been her reality. An unfamiliar house, a swampy lagoon choked with reeds, and the overwhelming scent of spices and incense clinging to the air. The images shifted again to a different locale, this one cold, sterile, and as empty as her head felt right then. Another jarring jump brought her under a crimson sky bathed in a blinding light, and then... darkness.
She sprawled out on the floor, desperately searching for anything familiar while surrounded only by the black.
She could feel the carpet between her fingers, the sting of Niffty’s disinfectant, Alastor’s hand on her face, but no sounds reached her ears, and no further images registered in her sight.
She hugged her knees to her chest, seeking solace in her own body, trembling like a leaf as she gasped for air that simply wouldn't fill her lungs.
‘As below, so above. What falls, inevitably rises.’
A voice, familiar yet utterly unknown, reached her ears, and she jerked her head, searching for the source, but nothing appeared except a blast of bright, shimmering stars that nearly blinded her. She threw a hand to her face, unable to shield her eyes. Immediately following the stars, a white tree appeared before her, its roots inexplicably growing up toward a dark sky, its branches spreading out beneath the ground.
‘As below, so above. And let Will guide the chaos.’
She wanted to scream, but no sound came out. She convulsively squeezed her legs tighter to her body, everything she thought was real mixing with the visions that kept piling up in her head. Just when she was convinced she was about to lose her mind, two hands gripped her shoulders. She felt the warmth of someone's chest against her face and a familiar scent.
Leather and whiskey, she registered, finally drawing a deep, shuddering breath.
“I’m here.”
She squeezed the hand that was stroking her cheek, though she still couldn't see it, her heart slamming against her ribs so fiercely it was thudding in her ears.
A kiss on her forehead, the damp feel of lips on her skin, and hair brushing the tip of her nose.
“It’s alright, ma belle.”
Slowly, as if emerging from an agonizingly long, unlit tunnel, the light returned to her vision, and she found herself staring into the demon’s crimson eyes. His smile had vanished, replaced by a scowl, and his thumb continued to gently stroke her cheek.
“Tell me it was you,” she pleaded, grabbing his jacket lapel. “Tell me you did this, tell me you freed me.”
She was begging him, praying this was just a horrible nightmare. She didn't want to be different in this life, too. She didn't want there to be more to her. She just wanted to be a simple soul, one among the countless others in this abyssal dimension.
Alastor spread his lips into a new, less showy, closed-mouth smile. “If it makes you feel better, ma petite.”
She collapsed, burying her face into his chest, finally letting herself sob from the sheer terror that had gripped her through what felt like hours of visions, even if only a few seconds had likely passed for the demon. Unexpectedly, Alastor began to rock her gently, sinking onto the floor beside her and holding her tight to his chest, his face still pressed against the back of her head.
“What in the fucking Hell just happened now? You two can’t go two goddamn seconds without a crisis!”
Angel’s voice reached her, and she turned toward her friend, her eyes still brimming with tears. The spider demon seemed to sober up upon seeing her state and crouched down, snatching her away from the warm, calming embrace of the Radio Demon.
“What did you do to her this time?” he snarled at Alastor, shielding her with all four of his arms. “Wasn't her soul enough for you, you prick?”
Sam couldn't muster the strength to move; she let herself be jostled, utterly spent. For a fleeting moment, she saw Alastor’s face look almost stung to see her being comforted by someone else, but he quickly regained his composure, pulling himself to his feet. All she could see now were his long, slender legs.
“My dear effeminate friend, you shouldn’t jump to conclusions so quickly. In any case, I leave her in your capable hands. I have some pressing matters to attend to.”
“Yeah, beat it, then! Asshole!” Angel spat.
Sam couldn't stop shaking. She clung tightly to her friend’s chest, burying her face in his white fur, searching for the comfort she had, in truth, already found in the Radio Demon’s arms. She terribly missed that familiar scent.
She reached up to her neck again, finding it scored with blood from her strenuous attempt to break those chains. Angel held her up, moving to take her to her room to clean the wound, remaining silent and merely stroking her hair.
She still didn't want to know what had happened. She didn't want to be the weird one again. Now that she had finally found her place, she couldn't stand to lose it.
 
 
 
Alastor stalked through the city's shadows without any real destination, looking for a refuge far from what had just occurred.
A soul had slipped his grip; the first since he became an Overlord. He didn't even think it was possible, and yet, it happened. He could still feel the phantom sensation of the chain sliding from his grasp, the loss of control over that bond, and its final, sharp snap.
He should have been the one utterly freaked out. Instead, Sam had collapsed, shaking and weeping like a newborn. By all appearances, she’d had a full-blown panic attack. For a moment, he’d wanted to tear her limb from limb, shred her into pieces, just as she’d shredded his goddamn convictions. But he’d backed down under the gaze of those terrified, tear-filled eyes. She'd stuttered, shivered, babbled about stars, and only seemed to stabilize when he’d caved and hugged her, kissing her forehead just as his mother used to when he was sick with fever.
She had begged him to tell her a lie, to claim he’d chosen to release her. That request struck him as singular, to say the least. But if she didn’t want to dig further, why the bloody Hell should he? The power gained from the pact with her remained intact, and that was enough to settle his nerves. Sure, his wounded pride burned, but he would never dare inquire about this among the other Overlords. It would be seen as a glaring weakness, and his climb up the power ladder didn’t allow for such stupid, self-destructive errors.
He couldn't even say why, but he found himself near the V Tower; that disgusting, awful place reeking of cheap sex and shoddily produced programs. He'd always wondered how souls in Hell could entertain themselves staring at those boxes with pictures or hunched over electronic devices he utterly loathed.
Perhaps a little visit to his dear friend Vox would calm him down. Frying his circuits was always one of his favourite pastimes. Besides, he had an outstanding issue with him. If that flat-faced buffoon dared even try to attack him, he could finally test out this new strength boiling through his veins like molten lava.
His shadow slithered along the walls, reaching the top of the tower where he clearly saw the enemy's figure through the window, turned toward his beloved screens, ranting at them.
Alastor materialized behind him, settling onto one of the studio’s plush blue couches, patiently waiting for Vox to notice his presence.
“Velvette, I don’t give a rat’s ass if Valentino tore apart another employee! Find a new one!”
He couldn't understand how a nobody like Vox had managed to become an Overlord and keep two demons like Velvette and Valentino under his thumb. He was easily enraged, utterly devoid of savoir-faire, and not particularly bright.
The monitor that served as Vox's face slowly swivelled in his direction. Alastor met his terrified gaze with a wide smile and a hand raised in a breezy salute. "Bonjour mon ami, having a rough day?”
“Shit!” Vox screamed, tumbling off his swivel chair and scrambling back toward the screen controls; he loved terrifying him like that. “How did you get in?!”
Alastor casually inspected his claws. “Oh, don’t fuss about that. Mine is a simple courtesy call, just a little chat between old enemies.”
“Don’t you fuck with me, you ancient prick! You’re not the type for idle chitchat!”” Vox roared, scrambling to his feet and straightening his jacket.
In response, Alastor got more comfortable on the couch, stretching out a bit, toying distractedly with his microphone staff in front of his face. “You know me so well” he cackled into the air.
Vox seemed to relax, leaning his back against the console and breathing deeply. “Let me guess. You’re here about the new arrival?” he sneered.
“Oho! I didn’t take you for such a perceptive fellow” Alastor scoffed, turning toward him and catching the first nervous twitch from his interlocutor, whose fingers were irritably drumming on the metal console.
Vox’s screen-face changed, settling into a smug grin. “She’s under a regular contract. You don’t have much to complain about.”
Alastor laughed brazenly, hoisting himself up onto the armrests to sit properly again. “Flat face, flat brain. It seems you're out of the loop on the latest news. Her soul is mine now”; he was lying, of course, but at least this way he’d handle the Sam problem.
“What?! That little slut…”
Alastor felt his antlers strain, pressing to grow outward at the slur, but he did his best to restrain himself. He couldn’t show real interest in her in front of a worm like Vox. He inhaled sharply and leaned his hands on the staff held before him.
“What can I say? Women come and go” he began without looking him in the eye. “You’ll just have to find another starlet for your two-bit program”
The scraping of his enemy’s nails grew sharper as his face on the screen began to flicker with tremors of rage, threatening to glitch out.
“Why the Hell do you care if she comes here? You’ve got the soul; you’ve already gotten what you wanted!”
Alastor ground his teeth, trying to sound utterly disinterested. “Let’s just say I enjoy taking her from you purely to annoy you.”
Electrical discharges began to fill the room, and Alastor revelled in his enemy’s fury.
“You rotten old bastard, I’ll…”
“Ah, I wouldn’t recommend continuing, my susceptible friend,” he began, rising to his feet and offering him a smile. “You’ll blow the delicate circuits that power that flat little head of yours”.
Vox literally began to foam at the mouth, reddish drool dripping from his sharp teeth in a fit of pure rage. Alastor stood up, satisfied with the conversation, but not before turning back one last time.
“Just for the sake of transparency, mon ami,” he hissed over his shoulder, feeling the shadow tentacles itching to deploy. “I will know if my request is not respected in any way, and especially if she is subjected to any kind of pressure to keep it from me. Perhaps you should inform your Valentino of the matter”.
The suppressed power in his body was straining to break free, making the room lights flicker and the screens glitch intermittently. His teeth were pressing into his gums, ready to tear his enemy apart.
He barely managed to sidestep a glass hurled in his direction, taking a small step to the left and twisting his head one hundred and eighty degrees to look Vox in the eye. Vox stumbled backward under his furious gaze, and Alastor gave him his finest smile.
“Such a temper. You really need a holiday”.
“I hate you!”
Alastor vanished before the electricity could surge and blow the room's lights, reappearing on the ground floor. He smugly straightened his jacket before resuming his walk, whistling a cheerful tune down the street. The chat with Vox had gone better than expected. Perhaps even he could sense the new power Alastor had acquired thanks to Sam’s soul and had wisely chosen to avoid a direct confrontation. Part of him was disappointed; he would have dearly loved to test those new energies on his hide.
At least one problem was solved. Now, he just had to figure out how to regain full control over the girl that was tormenting him even in his dreams.
 
 
 
Sam stood catatonic in her room. Angel had left half an hour ago, realizing she wasn’t going to utter a word. He'd drawn the curtains, turned off the lights, and closed the door behind him, reassuring her that he’d try to talk to Val about the situation.
She wanted to tell him not to go, that they’d figure out another solution together, but she was too damn wound up to articulate a coherent thought. Besides, lately, she hadn’t exactly been a font of genius ideas.
In a little over two weeks she had: summoned a demon, been dragged to Hell, started liking her new life, gotten drugged, gone to work for two slimy bastards, been killed, sold her soul to a demon, and, not content with that, banged said demon. Oh, and let’s not forget she’d snapped the chains binding her to Alastor like they were a cheap USB cable.
“As below, so above” she found herself repeating the phrase spoken by that voice during her absolute terror, the words ringing like a haunting chant from the darkest pits of nightmares. She ran her hands over her face, deciding to head to the library and use it, for once, for its true purpose: reading.
She moved silently, trying to avoid the other guests. She didn't want to explain what had happened, and if Alastor would play along, she'd keep the broken pact a secret from everyone. She much preferred they continue thinking she was under his thumb, or she’d probably send them all into a panic.
She entered the room, illuminated by the faint glow of the few bulbs that survived the brawl with Alastor just a couple of days prior, and started searching for the books on Infernal Symbology she’d glanced at once.
She grabbed three, flipping through them in search of that inverted tree that was burned into her mind and refused to budge.
After a solid two hours of digging, she was at a dead end. She sank her head into her hands; those words and that image just wouldn’t leave her brain.
“As below, so above,” she muttered. “What the Hell does it even mean?”
A slight flicker in the lights told her Alastor was likely incoming, and she mentally braced herself for a fight. She still hadn't processed how the Radio Demon might take this, and honestly, she wasn't eager to find out. The idea of bolting seemed appealing, but before she could stand, he materialized right in front of her from his usual puff of dark smoke.
“Actually, it would be ‘As above, so below’,” he corrected her flatly, scrutinizing her as if trying to dissect her.
Sam stifled a groan. “And do you know what it means?”
He shrugged, tapping his fingers rhythmically on his staff. “It depends on which interpretation you choose to follow. Generally, it means that what happens in a higher realm also influences everything beneath it.”
“What falls, inevitably rises,” she found herself whispering, drawing a new, questioning look from the demon. “Do those words sound familiar to you?”
Alastor tightened his lips. It was clear he was unnerved by her presence right now. “Some vision of my future I should know?”
Sam snapped the book shut, trying not to appear flustered. “Nah, just some panic-induced trip, probably,” she replied, attempting to sound certain of the statement.
Alastor leaned toward her, taking her chin between his fingers and forcing her to look at him. “Don’t you dare lie to me.”
“Am I wrong, or are we avoiding a rather large elephant in the room?”.
She’d rather talk about the broken pact a thousand times over than that bizarre vision. She didn’t know why, but those images had rattled her and discussing them openly made everything far too real.
The demon narrowed his eyelids. “I thought you preferred to believe it was my will that set you free.”
“And what do you prefer?”
He let go of her chin, giving her a dark look. “Don’t bother trying to change the subject; it won’t work on me.”
She dropped her head back, staring at the ceiling. “Alastor, I don’t know what it was, okay? As far as I’m concerned, I could have imagined the whole damn thing out of fear.”
“You prefer to think that?”
“I don’t know, alright?!”, she shot up so fast she nearly knocked the chair over, then started pacing back and forth across the room. “I’ve been dead for two days, and things are already getting complicated! I certainly didn’t sign up for this! You want the honest truth?!”
The Overlord cocked his head to the side, observing her with an amused smile. “Enlighten me.”
“I was hoping for a peaceful existence in Hell,” she laughed, sinking back into the chair and hiding her face in her hands to escape his eyes. “I would have even been fine staying under your control, maybe convincing you to give me more wiggle room, but that would have been better than this. I don't want to be different again, Alastor. I don't want to feel out of place again. I can’t handle it.”
She heard the demon's footsteps approach, and through the gaps in her fingers, she saw his legs bend as he crouched down in front of her.
“Look at me.”
His tone was commanding, but she couldn’t obey. She couldn't look him in the eye. She had no explanations to give him, nor did she want to seek them out. If she had come to the library, it was only to find confirmation that she could relax, that what she’d seen meant absolutely nothing. She could accept being a seer, but nothing more. She just wanted to be Samantha, nothing else. Tears stung her eyes, and her chest felt tight, but she fought with every fibre of her being to stay calm.
The demon’s hands rested on hers, forcing her to lower them. He was right up close, his red forelock almost grazing her forehead.
“You want to pretend that I still own your soul? That suits me just fine,” he answered seriously. “Frankly, I have no desire to lose my credibility.”
She let out a bitter smile. “Good, we’re agreed.”
“However,” he continued, putting his index finger in front of her eyes. “Whatever else surfaces, I have to be the first to know. Be it visions or anything else. Am I perfectly clear?”
“Why?” she asked, resting her forehead against his.
“Because… I’m interested,” he replied in a near-whisper, as if the words were difficult to utter. “You’re the most entertaining thing to happen in this miserable pit of Hell in quite some time.”
Sam lowered her gaze. “So, to you, I’m just that? Entertainment?”
Alastor pulled away from her, rising to his feet and turning his back. “Excuse me, I have to go”.
 
 
 
He’d managed to escape just in time from Sam’s insidious question. He couldn't believe he’d been reduced to hanging on a girl's every word like some pathetic sucker. He should have just killed her to prevent her from blabbing about their broken pact, yet he simply couldn't muster the strength. He’d settled for the fact that she didn’t want to investigate the extraordinary event, allowing her to continue living.
She was rapidly becoming the very emblem of his failures.
A failure to subdue a soul to his will; a failure of the icy armor he’d built around himself to prevent getting too close to anyone; a failure to keep the promise he’d made in life. She had split a crack in that facade he couldn’t repair, crawling inside like a parasite he couldn’t expel. That heat that washed over him like a fever whenever they got too close, that intense need to always know where she was and what she was doing, was driving him utterly mad. He had never been like this; he was never supposed to be.
His only goal was one: to rule Hell.
And it had to stay that way.
No, she had stopped being entertainment far too long ago. She was his damn condemnation.
He swiped the song list lying on his console right off the desk, feeling that new power surging beneath his skin, ready to explode. The only saving grace in this whole damn mess was the sheer power he’d gained from that pact, broken or not.
His gaze fell onto the papers scattered on the floor, and a title with a question mark caught his eye. A song he’d often heard her listening to, while she’d shoot him furtive glances during the times they shared a room for meals or out of sheer boredom.
He hated to admit it, but he would absolutely adore seeing her reaction if he played it on his program.
He grinned, amused.
What was the harm in just playing the game a little longer?
She had to remain just that: a dangerous game.
One he would eventually win, permanently unbinding himself from her. Until that glorious moment, he could permit himself to continue observing her and savouring her irritating, intoxicating presence.
 
 
 
Sam returned to her room with such a crushing sense of embarrassment that the tips of her hair felt like they were spontaneously combusting.
What in the actual Hell had possessed her to ask him a question like that? Furthermore, in her current chaotic situation, was that really the first thing on her mind? Utterly absurd.
She threw herself face-down onto the bed, burrowing under the covers and trying to concentrate on anything else, but all that returned were those damned words she’d heard while semiconscious and riddled with fear.
She wanted nothing to do with that whole mess. Even if she found out she was the reincarnation of the universe's fucking saviour, she wouldn't care. She wanted to believe that nothing had happened; she would re-shackle the chain around her neck if it meant erasing what had occurred. If she talked about it with anyone other than Alastor, they’d pressure her to investigate how she did it, and that wasn't what she wanted. Whatever happened, she didn't care; it was completely futile for her to discover, as it wouldn't change her plans to live a simple life, even if it was in Hell.
She rolled onto her side, sniffing the sheets for Alastor’s familiar scent, and as soon as she found it, she buried her nose deep, inhaling.
She missed him right then. He was the only one she felt comfortable talking to; though she would definitely skirt the topics of the broken pact and what do you really think of me.
Oh sure, talk; no one's buying that, she commented internally, an embarrassed smile creeping onto her lips at the memory of what had happened just the night before.
Whatever, better focus on that.
She preferred a thousand times over to think about her ‘non-relationship’ with a psycho rather than the rest. Brilliant, right? Sweep the problems under the rug and obsess over the Radio Demon.
The demon who was increasingly occupying her thoughts, whom she wanted by her side right now, and from whom she no longer wanted just sex; the one who had stroked her so gently...
“Oh, fuck no!” she burst out, sitting up abruptly as if scalded. “No, Sam, no.”
Great. Now even the thought of Alastor was becoming a problem, and damn it, she didn't want any more problems!
“Breathe, calm down,” she muttered, running her hands through her hair. “It’s just sex, just sex.”
She had to distract herself, or she'd lose it.
She grabbed her cell phone, but unfortunately, she’d forgotten to charge it and it was stone-cold dead. No music to quell the thoughts.
Go downstairs? Absolutely not. Charlie would ask why she was so upset, and she couldn't face an interrogation.
The radio? That wouldn't be bad, if only she didn't risk hearing Alastor's voice. It seemed like the only damn thing broadcast was his program.
She gathered her courage and reached for the antique radio on her nightstand. The last time she’d turned it on was during her first night in Hell; since then, she hadn't dared to use it. She slowly twisted the old knobs, searching for a station. After several attempts, she landed on his, but it was strangely silent.
She leaned toward the set, thinking it was broken, but the station was correct. She waited a few seconds until an opening jingle began to trill.
“Apologies for the delay, dear listeners. Some matters required my immediate attention…” The demon's voice reached her ears, and she almost relaxed at the sound, placing the radio back on the nightstand and lying down again, her hands clasped over her stomach in the darkness of her room.
“...not long ago, it was pointed out to me that I ought to broaden my musical tastes…”
There. He was already starting to mock her, surely. She clenched her fingers and took a deep breath, trying to keep her eyes closed and calm down.
“...do let me know what you think…”
Wait. He wasn't teasing her; he seemed genuinely interested in the suggestion.
“Enjoy the notes, and I shall return at the close.”
The song started, and a familiar melody reached her ears.
 
I summoned you, please come to me
Don't bury thoughts that you really want
I fill you up, drink from my cup
Within me lies what you really want
 
She knew that song very well. In the preceding weeks, she listened to it whenever she was alone, and for a few moments, her thoughts flew to the demon who was now broadcasting it. Many times, her phone's random playback had played it when they were near each other, and she couldn't help but stare at him.
 
In the middle of the night,
Just call my name, I'm yours to tame
In the middle of the night
 
Her hands moved from her stomach to the areas he had touched, barely grazing them, then rising to her lips, where she still felt his taste.
She slowly traced them with her fingertips, feeling them dry from thirst or maybe anxiety. She stared into the darkness around her, the silence broken only by the song, and she didn't know if he was dedicating it to her or if he simply enjoyed it.
Maybe she was the one mentally dedicating it to him every time it played on her headphones, thinking of those terrifying yet warm crimson eyes that both unnerved and cradled her in a mix of emotions she refused to name.
 
I'm wide awake,
I crave your taste all night long 'til morning comes
I'm getting what is mine, you gon' get yours
 
When had she started feeling so attracted to him? When had the fear turned into desire? Had she ever truly been afraid of that demon, except for the very first moment she saw him appear in her room? Years seemed to have passed since that day.
She found herself silently singing along to the lyrics: “I'm wide awake, I crave your taste all night long… I'm getting what is mine, you gon' get yours…”
Perhaps Alastor was right: that desire was a curse, and they should simply ignore it, especially considering what had happened just hours ago.
 
And just call on me, just call my name
Like you mean it
 
“Alastor,” she whispered, as if he could hear her.
As she did, she had the distinct feeling of something stroking her cheek, making her sit up abruptly and search the darkness for an answer. She tried to reach for the lamp on the nightstand, but again felt a light caress on her hand, causing her to pull it back.
“I’m wide awake, I crave your taste,” a familiar voice murmured. “Ma belle, would that count as an answer to your question from earlier?”
She had heard it. She was certain.
That was Alastor’s voice right by her ear before he placed a chaste kiss on her shoulder, left bare by her tank top.
She grabbed the switch and flicked it. The darkness flooded with light, but she was completely alone.
Wonderful. Hallucinations now, too, she thought glumly, rubbing her eyes with her fingers.
“Well, dear listeners, what did you think?”
“You’re a treacherous little tempter,” she huffed, roughly tossing the blankets off her legs to stand up, but getting tangled and nearly crashing to the floor, threatening to drag the radio and lamp down with her.
“'Al, you gorgeous hunk! I hope this update to your musical tastes won't keep you from coming to my show tomorrow.'”
The station's call-ins had begun, and she instantly recognized the flirtatious voice. “Mimzy,” she growled, incensed, clenching her fists while freeing herself from the tangle of sheets.
“Oh, my dear, I would never miss it.”
“"Cut the shit, already!” she screamed at the appliance as if he could hear her, and she switched it off to avoid hearing the rest of the conversation.
Now she could concentrate on a different, less emotionally taxing problem: showing up at the cabaret herself, purely to annoy him and ruin his spotlight.
She took a second to look at herself in the wall mirror, realizing the restoration work required on her person would be long and gruelling.
Well, you wanted something else to focus on, didn't you?
 
 
 
Invigorated by the idea of making him pay, she went downstairs, willingly deleting everything that had happened just a few hours prior. She twirled down the steps like a cricket, smiling at Husk, who was always in his usual spot.
“What’re you grinning about? Doesn’t look like there’s anything to celebrate,” he grumbled, taking a swig of something alcoholic from his usual flask. “And if you want a favour, forget it. I’m out of money, ambition, and soul.”
“Sam!” Charlie trilled. “Are you okay? Angel said you weren’t feeling well.”
If ‘not feeling well’ means in the middle of a full-blown anxiety attack, he nailed it, she thought, struggling to keep the smile plastered on her face.
“Nothing serious, just a little dizzy spell and the usual spat with Alastor.”
Husk let out a low growl. “That typical prick.”
She ignored the comment and headed toward the door, intending to spend some time in the garden - if you could call the barren patch outside the hotel that - and enjoy the fresh air.
She turned back to her friends before opening it, seeing their stunned expressions.
“Think she finally found Angel’s stash?” Husk asked the princess, who responded with a shrug.
She opened the creaky wooden door, and all the positive vibes she thought she’d accumulated vaporized the exact moment Vaggie's face appeared. Vaggie’s hand was still raised, ready to knock, and they locked eyes, holding their breath.
Why are you people doing this to me? Was I the one who nailed Christ’s hands in another life? she thought, crushed, her smile flattening into a straight line, her mouth suddenly dry.
She was practically bowled over by Charlie, who raced into her lover’s arms, planting a sweet kiss on her lips. Vaggie returned the kiss and squeezed her tight, and Sam slowly backed away, heading for the bar.
“Now that’s the Sam I recognize,” Husk scoffed.
Sam felt a strong twitch in her eye, but massaged it, trying to stop it. “I’m going to the library.”
“Get back here right now!”
Vaggie’s thunderous voice instantly froze her, one foot still mid-air toward the lounge exit. All her plans to ignore her problems seemed to be going straight to Hell with the return of the ex-Exterminator, and she rolled her eyes as if to scorch whatever stubborn deity had decided to ruin her day even further.
She did a quick pivot, turning around and crossing her arms behind her back. “Vaggieee,” she mumbled, her voice too high and almost choked. “Welcome back! I imagine you want some time with Charlie…totally understandable! So maybe I'll just slip away and do, uh, that thing... yeah, that thing with Husk and...”
Shit. Since when was she this bad at lying? She used to be perfectly capable of spouting them at a decent speed.
The bartender glared at her, incensed. “Don’t drag me into your self-destructive schemes. I’ve got enough of my own bullshit to deal with.”
She let out a frustrated, rattling sigh, deflating like a punctured balloon and letting her shoulders slump in exhaustion. “Please, guys, I’m begging you,” she whispered. “I’ve already talked to both Charlie and Husk. It’s probably just some ‘gift’ that came with my death. Can we just move past what happened? It seems like everything worked out for the best, anyway.”
Vaggie nervously tapped her foot on the threshold, arms crossed. “No, Sam. Something stinks here, and I’m not talking about the deer carcass Alastor brought to the kitchen.”
Sam’s eyes widened in confusion. “Carcass... of a deer?”
Charlie watched her girlfriend with sparkling eyes, simply ecstatic to have her back, to the point that she seemed utterly uninterested in the conversation, just sighing languidly while stroking the hand she held tight.
Vaggie ran her free hand across her forehead, exasperated. “Ok, I don’t want to be a bitch or play mother hen, but something weird is going on, and if you don’t put your head into this and figure it out, you could end up in some nasty situations. To be honest, I’m not even mad at you, I’m just worried.”
“Oh, so this isn’t the worst situation I could get myself into?” she asked, laughing, but her joke did absolutely nothing to ease the tense atmosphere. In fact, it drew tired, horrified looks from her friends.
Charlie finally seemed to snap out of it and turned to look at her. “We’re saying this for your own good. You never face difficult situations; you always run away. That can’t be healthy, and you keep getting into worse messes to fix the previous one. That’s not healthy!”
Ah, so that’s not how it works? she thought sarcastically, trying to keep up the forced smile to appear calm.
“Guys, I’m seriously fine. I mean, I already told you. Each of you has some kind of ‘gift.’ This could simply be mine,” she tried to lie. “Can we just pretend nothing happened? I promise that the next time something absurd happens, we’ll sit down and talk about it calmly.”
“Which will be in about half an hour if things go as usual,” Husk commented with a smirk.
She tried to incinerate him with a look, but that glare had no effect on him anymore, not since they’d both been under Alastor’s control. Or rather, until she had been, as far as he knew. She absolutely had to avoid touching that topic at all costs, or she would have to talk, just as she’d promised.
“Oho! Is there a meeting I was unaware of?”
Alastor materialized behind the two girls, holding the edges of his coat and standing perfectly straight.
No, no, no, fuck she thought, throwing her head back, practically growling.
“Our little winged friend has returned! I thought I wouldn't see you for quite some time.”
Good. He was focusing on tormenting Vaggie, giving Sam a chance to try and slip away, but she was intercepted by Husk, who grabbed her by the hoodie and dragged her to sit on a barstool.
“You’re under strict supervision for a while.”
She crossed her arms and put on a fake pout. “You are unbearable.”
“And try not to argue with Alastor again.”
“But actually, we...”
Shut up. He hasn’t figured out you two banged, she told herself before finishing the sentence, instantly snapping her mouth shut. She had to admit she was finally learning to control her constant verbal diarrhea, at least in part.
The Radio Demon walked past both, giving her a quick glance before leaving and lightly tapping her head a couple of times.
The bartender looked at the scene, astonished. “Wow. He’s usually much more of an asshole.”
Charlie walked past him, heading toward her room with Vaggie, and gave Sam a knowing look before speaking. “Maybe he’s just more serene because someone granted him her favours.”
“What? What favours?”
Sam turned to him, pulling her lips down and biting the bottom one. “Nothing. She just likes to joke.”
She saw his eyes flick from her neck to her face a couple of times before he buried his face in his hands, slumping over the counter. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. One can’t live like this! You need a straitjacket.”
She fled before Husk could continue ranting and managed to catch Vaggie before she disappeared with Charlie.
“Vaggie, wait!” she shouted.
The two exchanged a knowing look, and the Princess of Hell left them alone in the corridor. Sam felt tense; she was afraid to talk to her, but she knew it was the right thing to do. She couldn't avoid it. She nervously hugged herself, trying to meet the gaze of the ex-angel’s one good eye.
“I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I don’t know what came over me... I should have just kept my mouth shut.”
Vaggie gave her a half-smile. “It’s fine, Sam. I would have had to tell her sooner or later. Maybe I would have preferred to do it differently, but it was right that she knew... that everyone knew.”
Sam nodded but still felt terribly guilty. “I don’t know what to say, Vaggie... I hope you can forgive me.”
The former angel gave her a small pat on the arm. “I already have, Sam. Maybe the hard part is forgiving yourself.”
Vaggie left her in the hallway to follow her beloved, and Sam stood motionless, staring into space.
Self-forgiveness was something she would never achieve, but not because of Vaggie. Something much deeper was buried in her soul.
Mom, she thought, as a single tear escaped her control, tracing a path down her face and falling to the floor in the silence.
 
 
 
The next day, Charlie wouldn't take no for an answer. Since Sam had officially become an inhabitant of Hell, if she wanted to stay at the hotel, she had to participate in the redemption activities proposed by Charlie.
She couldn't back out anymore.
She lazily dragged herself toward the lobby where Charlie had set up a small stage with a microphone and a whiteboard covered in a hundred incomprehensible scribbles. All the other guests were already seated, waiting for the new exercise to begin. Only Alastor was missing, as usual.
Angel was strangely serene, his face relaxed. They had talked the night before, and he told her Val had taken the news of her early retirement quite well, so he was safe. Vox had probably already replaced her, and she had to admit to herself that it was a huge relief. She had firsthand seen the video that was filmed and wanted to bury herself in embarrassment, but luckily her face remained covered.
Sir Pentious hissed, sitting a little way from her, making an annoying, repetitive noise that grated on her nerves. After spiders, snakes were another creature she strongly disliked, although Angel no longer looked like a real spider to her, but more like any other guy. So, she figured she'd eventually overcome her anxiety about the snake demon, too. She looked at her friend and smiled, remembering her reaction the first time she saw him.
“Alright, guys, today we’re going to get to know each other better,” Charlie began cheerfully. “Trust also comes from sharing why we’re here.”
“Does ‘because crack prices have soared’ count as an answer?” Angel asked, scrolling distractedly through social media.
Vaggie glared at him. “She meant why we ended up in Hell.”
Sam retreated into the sofa, praying she wouldn't have to be first, but thankfully, the snake demon seemed genuinely interested in the activities and volunteered to start.
She truly wanted to listen to him and try to take the princess’s activities seriously, but the truth was, she hadn't really believed in them since the day she arrived. This was the definitive end of the line, the sum of all the evil acts committed in life, and crying over spilled milk wouldn't do much good. It was also true that many of them, in her opinion, were decent people, and she couldn't figure out how they had ended up in this place. Angel had always been very guarded about that, as were the others.
“I wasn’t the best human,” Pentious murmured with his usual hiss, his top hat clutched in his clawed fingers. “I run a company in life…I had a loving family... I took all their money to create what I thought was the invention of the century, and when everything was lost, we ended up on the streets and... I committed suicide.”
Sam froze, hearing that confession, hissed out with tears in his eyes. She had always dismissed him as an oddball capable of little more than causing trouble and hearing him talk about what happened made her feel guilty for judging him so poorly. Sure, he wasn't a saint -he wouldn't be in Hell otherwise - but those seemed like venial sins, minor compared to others. Heaven clearly had impossibly high standards; that’s probably why Hell was so damn crowded.
Charlie gently patted his shoulder, inviting him to step down from the stage, while scanning the others for the next volunteer. Sam turned toward Pentious, smiling reassuringly, but having nothing comforting to say.
That confession had made the air heavy, but Angel did his best to lighten it. He refused to go on stage and remained seated, tapping his chin thoughtfully.
“To be honest, I did little and nothing, excluding, you know, drugs, premarital sex, dealing... is sodomy still considered a sin, or have those bigots finally opened their eyes? Anyway, then there was theft, alcoholism, prostitution,” he kept count on his fingers as he spoke, and Sam found herself watching him in shock. “In any case, I died of an overdose; best high of my life.”
All things human law could prosecute, but were they truly mortal sins? She certainly wasn't an expert on the Bible or Christianity, but they seemed somewhat forgivable. Who knows where he grew up or, more importantly, how. She didn't feel entitled to judge him.
Husk looked at the others, realizing it was his turn. “Gambling and alcoholism. I crashed when I was drunk driving home from the casino,” he cut short.
She couldn't keep quiet any longer. “But... do you think it’s just for this? I mean, you're not saints, but you don't seem like full-blown demons either,” she asked, looking at her friends gathered in the room.
She had expected to hear confessions about heinous murders or ex-mafia bosses, not just street crimes that would have been punished with ten years in prison, at most, on Earth.
Vaggie rolled her good eye. “Heaven sets the bar high, Sam. Only perfect people get in.”
She smiled faintly. “Then I guess I officially anticipated the inevitable. I would have ended up here anyway.”
Everyone continued to stare at her, waiting for her to finally speak, but she really struggled to spill it all out. She had confessed part of her life to Angel in a moment of weakness, but exposing herself in public like this made her terribly uneasy. She hugged her arms tightly to her chest in anxiety, trying to keep her eyes fixed on the carpet.
The ex-angel approached her and placed a hand on her shoulder to encourage her. For the first time since they met, she gave her a gentle smile. “Go on. Confessing will do you good. I know something about that,” she whispered with a complicit look, likely referring to the secret she had kept until a few days ago.
Sam lowered her head, running her hands through her hair to pull it back, and took a deep breath. She could do it. For once, she had to face a problem head-on. She couldn't run away from this one anymore.
“My father left when I was 8, and even when he was around, he certainly wasn't the best dad, to the point that I barely remember his face, honestly. My mother made sure to be both parents and worked two jobs to support me, until my grandfather died and left us a nice fortune. We could have lived in luxury, but she didn’t want me to get spoiled, so she said she’d save it all for rainy days. About four years ago, she got sick…lung cancer, without ever smoking a single cigarette,” she laughed melancholically, remembering the moment they got the diagnosis, her mother’s face tired but somehow always serene. “At that point, I did my best to take care of her, but I was young, stupid, selfish,” she spat out in anger. “Most of the time, I forgot her appointments and went to dance practice because I thought I could make a career out of it, while she kept telling me I needed to study for more security in life... we fought a lot about that,” her voice died in her throat, and she found herself leaning her forehead against her hands, nervously moving her feet as if ready to run away at any moment. All those images of those difficult years flooded back, and she grabbed her hair, almost tearing it out.
Fuck, she still hated herself deeply for what she had done and telling it all out loud made her nauseous.
Angel’s hand on her back encouraged her to continue, but it was getting harder and harder to go on. She lifted her face and stared into the void, trying not to look at the faces full of apprehension around her.
She didn't deserve their pity.
“Two years ago, a big opportunity came up; the kind you only get once in a lifetime. My mother had been in the hospital for a few days because chemo had worn her out, and she needed more care. I hadn't told her anything; I planned to surprise her by coming back with a promising gig and proving her wrong, that I could make it in that world...”
The really tough part was coming, and she felt tears streaming from the corners of her eyes, impossible to stop. “She called me right before my performance, and I told her I was busy... the tumour seemed to be in remission. I was convinced we'd have another moment to talk,” her voice cracked, and her throat tightened. “I didn't even tell her I loved her, just that I'd prove to her soon that I could make it big... I actually won, but when I picked up my phone, I saw a call from the hospital and raced there, but it was too late. When I walked into the room, they were pulling the sheet over her face... she died without knowing I loved her...”
Angel tried to hug her, but she pushed him away. She didn't deserve comfort.
“The worst part was, she had left me a voice message, telling me she was proud of me no matter what I chose... and I was an ungrateful, despicable daughter, and at that point, I couldn't go on as if nothing happened,” she felt the self-hatred bubbling up, clenching her fists until her nails dug into her palms. “I dropped everything. I sold the house. I started studying seriously... I did what she wanted to see me do, and in the meantime, I punished myself every single day. I made a ton of choices I knew were wrong just because I thought I deserved them; whether it was men, friends, parties... maybe drugs wouldn't have been far off, and I would have ended up here much sooner... or maybe I would have killed myself, who knows... honestly, I never wanted to think about it too much. It was easier to pretend that I made those choices myself, that I genuinely wanted to do those things, and bottle everything up, even if it meant dying one day at a time... but I deserved it. I deserve it, and now don't you dare hug me or comfort me, because I’m awful, and honestly, I don't want to be consoled.”
Hearing her hysterical voice, her friends recoiled, while the memories of those painful days and her inability to let the pain out - to show anything more than the mask of irony and coldness she had stitched onto herself as a shield from the rest of the world - flooded her mind.
She started laughing almost hysterically, trying to wipe away the continuous flow of tears with the palm of her hand. “And you want to know the most absurd thing? I’m honestly better off here than on Earth, and I wouldn’t go back. I was in Hell from that day on, and I swear to you, compared to what I put myself through, this is a fucking paradise. I feel guilty every day since I got here for being okay, and the pact with Alastor was me trying to find an escape so I wouldn’t hurt myself again, so I wouldn't start suffering again. If he had been the one to kill me, and not me killing myself, I would have had an excuse. I wouldn’t have been the one running away, but I could have blamed someone else for this absurd, toxic happiness that I don't deserve anyway. When I saw Angel suffering, I didn't abandon him because I already did that to the person who loved me most in the world, and I... I couldn't do it again... I couldn't repeat the same mistake... not again, even if this will never bring me forgiveness, and I don't deserve it. I'm happy you all want to redeem your souls, but mine is staying right here. You won't change my mind on that.”
She felt terribly tired and emptied by that confession, as if she had been running for hours. Her breath was short, her stomach felt twisted into knots, and her head seemed about to explode along with her heart. The thousand images of that awakened past crowded her mind like a double-speed film, with only the incessant sound of the machine that no longer registered vital signs playing in the background.
How many times had she dreamed of going back, of changing what she had done to be the daughter her mother truly deserved? Instead, she had probably been the biggest disappointment she could give her. She had abandoned her just as her father had. She couldn't bear that weight, and letting it all out had only reopened a wound she thought had healed. Whoever said talking helps was a poor imbecile; for her, talking only brought pain and anguish.
She stood up when both Charlie and Angel tried to hug her, convulsively clutching her arm until she scratched herself and grinding her teeth until she tasted her own blood.
“No! No pity,” she burst out angrily. “No consolation. Now you know, so let's end the 'Poor Sam who didn't return to Earth' talk, because Sam is exactly where she deserves to be, and that's it.”
Tears continued to flow uncontrollably, and the more she tried to wipe them away, the more new ones appeared. She felt shattered, destroyed, utterly massacred from the inside. And this was supposed to help her, according to everyone? How many times had she been told, ‘Let it all out, it'll do you good’, and thankfully, she had remained silent, because now that she had opened her mouth, she felt like a cracked dam that wouldn't stop spurting water. She turned to the crimson wooden wall and leaned her forehead against it to hide from the faces of the others who were watching her with regret.
“Sam” Vaggie’s voice reached her, but she didn’t even turn to look.
Warm arms wrapped around her, and someone's chest pressed against her back, making her stiffen. Husk, who had remained impassive until that moment, had gotten up and, ignoring her anger, hugged her.
She didn't even have the strength to try to move at this point and allowed that warmth to calm her, at least minimally. She slammed her fist against the wall, trying to vent all the rage against herself onto it, then a second, a third, a fourth time, until her hand hurt too much to continue.
“You’re right. You were young and stupid,” the bartender said seriously. “Too young to face that loss, too young to take on that responsibility. It’s true, some people are strong enough to bear it, but you probably weren't, and that’s okay.”
“No, it’s not okay,” she hissed, her voice hoarse. “I should have been there.”
“Well, you weren’t” his voice was a muffled growl. “And you’re choosing to stay in Hell because of that? Do you think she would have wanted this for you? To destroy yourself?”
Sam felt a weary smile appear on her lips. “She doesn’t want anything anymore. She’s dead, and thankfully, she’s not here.”
A hand rested on hers, and she saw Charlie’s face tighten her fist, which was still clenched against the wall. “Forgive yourself, Sam. Don’t run away again.”
No, she couldn't stand that pity. She tried to pull away from their grasp, but Husk held her tighter, even risking an elbow to the ribs, and eventually, they collapsed onto the floor together, with Charlie still holding her hand.
“You have the chance to redeem yourself, to go back to her and apologize, tell her you love her. Don’t throw it away,” the princess murmured to her.
She felt the presence of the others gathered around her and covered her face with her hands so she wouldn't have to look at them.
“What if she hates me?”
She whispered the question to herself and to the others, feeling her heart break at the mere thought. She didn't even want to imagine that possibility. She’d rather stay in this place forever under the perennial threat of the Exorcists.
“She’s your mother, Sam,” Angel’s voice whispered from behind her. “And you said her last words were only to tell you how much she loved you and was proud of you. You couldn’t have known she was going to die that day, and even if you had, she wouldn’t have let you stay with her, giving up something you loved just to watch her suffer.”
She wiped away the tears that seemed to have stopped, leaning into Husk’s chest and catching her breath, searching within herself for the strength to retrieve her irony and cheerfulness, but it seemed lost, and she hated herself for it.
She hated being so pathetic, fragile, sensitive. Better the mask; better the façade.
Everyone was now crouched around her, seemingly embracing her with their gaze, and she struggled to meet their eyes full of compassion, but she had opened up, and they wouldn't forget it.
She swallowed the heavy, painful lump that had formed in her throat before forcing a smile. “The first person who changes their attitude toward me, I swear I’ll kick their ass. Got it?”
Husk let her go with a curse, and she fell backward onto the floor due to the sudden lack of support, above her the faces of everyone else, who had started smiling again at the little scene.
“See? Husk got the memo. Who’s the next one to beg for sympathy?” she tried to joke.
After her confession, the sharing stopped, and they moved on to lighter topics, partly because everyone needed it.
They found themselves laughing, telling much more relaxing anecdotes about their earthly and non-earthly lives, and she managed to push the ghosts of her past back, as evening slowly began to fall.
She wiped away a tear caused by laughter at the thought of Charlie in her emo phase in high school, while Angel relentlessly mocked her.
“The depressed princess, it could be a movie” he commented, lighting a cigarette.
Footsteps behind them made them turn. Alastor had arrived in the room, and for the first time, she saw him in an outfit different from his classic crimson. He wore a dark, elegant jacket and a white shirt with his ever-present bow tie and black-creased trousers. His red and black hair stood out even more with that particular outfit, as did his eyes.
Shit. Mimzy’s party, she thought, mentally smacking her forehead. She had been so caught up in the events of that afternoon that she had completely forgotten about her malicious, deep-thought-erasing plan.
“Going somewhere?” Charlie asked him, leaning forward to get a better look.
Alastor smiled, doing a pirouette as if for admiration. “An engagement that requires my presence. Nothing important.”
Angel puckered his lips. “You look like a waiter.”
The Radio Demon ignored him, heading for the door without even looking at her. Since their talk in the library, they hadn't exchanged a word, not counting the moment she was convinced he had entered her room to torment her with that song.
She made sure he closed the door behind him before leaping up and running toward Husk, who had gone to the pool table for a solo game. She reached him so fast she nearly landed on the table, scattering the balls completely.
He sighed, leaning on the cue stick with a resigned look. “You just can’t resist causing trouble, can you?”
“Tell me where Mimzy works! Or where she performs, now!”
The bartender raised an eyebrow. “And why should I do that?”
She fell silent, looking left and right for a decent excuse. “Well, you know, I was curious... I know she sings well, and I wanted to hear her.”
The bartender’s eyebrow rose further. “Cut the bullshit. Spill it.”
She slumped onto the pool table, exhausted. It was pointless to lie to him; he knew her too well now. “Yesterday, I was listening to Alastor’s broadcast, and I heard her invite him, and he was all ‘Oh yes, I would never miss it,’ and other fucking drivel” she replied, mimicking the Overlord.
Husk ignored her, returning to aim at the balls. “No, I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. You told me yesterday” Angel burst out.
The bartender nearly snapped the cue stick. “Did not.”
Charlie popped her head up from behind the sofa, watching the scene curiously. “You mean the 20s night at the Shot ‘n Kill?”
Perfect. Now she knew the name of the place. She just had to find a cab to get there. Were there cabs in Hell?
“Oh, for Satan’s sake!” Husk snapped. “Going there is another stupid fucking idea, especially alone!”
Angel gave everyone a sly look. “And who said she’s going alone?”
 
 
 
They quickly changed clothes and crammed themselves into a single taxi. She was literally squashed between Sir Pentious and Vaggie, to the point where she could barely breathe, and the others weren't doing much better. The only one comfortable was Angel, who had claimed the front seat with the excuse that he got terribly carsick.
“How did I let myself get talked into going back there?” Husk muttered, his snout practically pressed against the window.
Angel turned to him, looking sultry. “Because you can’t stay away from me, whiskers.”
Husk flipped him the bird. “Go fuck yourself.”
“You could watch.”
“Dammit, Angel, shut your pie-hole!”
Sam exchanged a look of understanding with Pentious and both let out a tired sigh, while Vaggie and Charlie tried to break up the fight. She couldn't understand how those two always ended up arguing, despite it being obvious they liked each other. Well, then again, she and Alastor argued often too, although their fights usually risked escalating into a brawl.
The grumpy cab driver, made even grumpier by the shouting, dropped them off in front of the club, and Sam's heart sank.
The line was endless, and the bouncers, particularly unsettling boar demons, seemed to have stopped letting anyone in. She adjusted the classic fringed black twenties dress salvaged from Angel's wardrobe - who often stole the costume clothes Velvette threw away - and approached the back of the line, looking discouraged.
Charlie tapped her on the shoulder with a radiant smile. “Being the daughter of Lucifer comes with a few perks, come on,” she said, adjusting the white feather in her hair.
Sam followed her, trying her best on her heels, however low, and Angel gave her a look of disapproval. “You look like a drunk Tyrannosaurus.”
“Oh, thanks, that really helps,” she mumbled, grabbing one of his arms when she nearly tripped on a manhole cover.
Charlie presented herself to the bouncers, and in no time, they opened the red velvet rope separating the entrance to let them through.
Sam found herself thrown into the classic imagery of the era: wooden furnishings, heavy drapes on the windows, cigarettes held in long holders, and rounded crystal glasses.
On a stage, a singer and dancer was performing. She looked like she stepped right out of the stereotypical devil image, with red skin, horns jutting from her forehead, and deep black eyes.
Sam hugged close to her friends as the crowd squeezed and jostled her, and she tried her best not to lose them.
Waiters of every type circulated with silver trays offering glasses filled with what looked like champagne and canapés, and the dance floor was surrounded by round wooden tables where demons and souls laughed and drank.
It was a chaotic environment, but it was nothing like the sex club she’d previously seen. It seemed almost refined, where people were rowdy but not overtly vulgar; though this was Hell, after all. Some dancers were already on the floor, letting loose with the same moves she’d seen Alastor do the night they went out on Earth.
A poker table caught Husk's attention, but she and Angel grabbed him, pulling him away before he could dive in.
She scanned the room for the demon, but there was no sign of him, or the small, bouncy flapper.
Vaggie read her thoughts and reassured her. “He’s around here somewhere. He definitely He hasn't gone off to hook up, if that’s what you’re worried about. The fact that he came to bed with you is a major event; he’s hardly going to repeat it.”
She wanted to smile at the joke, but somehow it sounded almost like an insult, and she found herself walking with her head down as they searched for a table. When they finally found one, waiters immediately placed full glasses in front of them, and she started drinking eagerly.
“Not my scene, but it's cute,” Angel said, looking around.
Charlie dragged Vaggie to see the acrobats on the other side of the room, and Sam found herself being the third wheel, as Pentious had vanished; probably dragged off by some party-loving dancer.
The lights began to dim, focusing all attention on the stage where the demoness had been singing moments before with a seductive, melancholic voice. A short, stout demon appeared, with the same red skin as the previous one.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, and creatures of both sexes,” he began, excited. “Here for you is the real show you came for, the true star of our program, the woman with the golden pipes…”
“If all these compliments are for Mimzy, I swear I’m going to kill myself,” she muttered, glaring angrily at the stage.
“The stunning Miss Mimzy!”
At this, she turned to Angel and Husk, holding out her hand. “Go on, give me a knife.”
“And her special guest, welcome for the first time on our stage, the great Radio Demon: Alastor!”
Sam spat out the drink she was consuming, spraying it even out her nose, and watched the two walk onto the stage arm-in-arm, the little brat lovingly stroking his chest.
“Oh, fuck off! Those two are definitely sleeping together” she hissed.
Angel laughed raucously. “Sweetie, honestly, I still can’t believe he came with you, so I highly doubt he’s going for her”.
“Why does everyone keep saying that? It's insulting!”
The tiny woman snapped her fingers to cue the band, and many couples started taking their places on the floor to dance to the song they were about to perform. Alastor grabbed the microphone he used as a cane and cleared his throat, a victorious, serene smile on his face, his eyelids slightly lowered as if he were flirting with the blonde. He hadn't noticed her presence, but she would certainly make sure he did.
She stood up, ignoring her friends' pleas, and scanned the room for a solo dancer. She just needed to be led, and the rest would come to her; after all, she had already done it with Alastor, it hadn't been that complex. Sure, he had guided her using his shadow, but that wouldn't stop her from trying again.
She spotted a shark-like demon holding a cigar between his jaws, watching her with interest. He wasn't her type, but the music was about to start, and she had to hurry.
“Hey, doll, wanna dance?” he asked, sizing her up.
Seeing those gigantic teeth up close, she wanted to backtrack, but the moment she noticed Alastor leaning down to take Mimzy’s hand, she was blinded by rage.
“If you can handle it” she replied confidently.
The shark grabbed her, leading her toward the centre of the floor. “Sure thing, little one, just follow my lead.”
Let’s hope so, she thought anxiously. Her dance partner looked like a giant compared to her, and if he squeezed her hand too hard, he would risk breaking it.
The music started, and a softer light came up on the dance floor. She grabbed her partner’s hands and glanced toward the stage.
 
I love her, can't leave her
Forever I'll always need her
She lied, but I believe her
 
Oh how sweet, she thought ironically, as the dancer began moving her from side to side, requiring all her concentration to keep from tripping on her heels. She watched the feet of the other dancers and realized many of the steps were similar to moves she already knew, and she suddenly felt more confident.
 
My baby shot me down again
Shot me down with a love and it go bang bang
 
As she danced on the floor, the two sang and moved on the stage themselves, and every time she saw Alastor's hand in the flapper’s, bile rose in her stomach.
He still hadn't seen her, but she motioned with her head for the demon to move toward the centre of the floor, and the shark didn't need to be told twice. Thanks to his size, they gained a good amount of space to move more freely and even drew some attention; perhaps more for their size difference than actual skill.
 
And maybe that's the truth, and pluckin' chickens ain't no use
I wanna wear my tux and see you when your gowned
 
The music intensified, and she was suddenly grabbed by the hips and tossed into the air. It took all her willpower to keep from screaming, but that move instantly drew Alastor's attention to her, and for a brief second, it seemed like he was glaring daggers.
 
Shot 'em with a bang
Love him down down I shot my baby with a bang
Bang!
 
His voice became slightly distorted as the lights began to flicker in time with the song. She couldn't see him clearly through the crowd, but she was sure he was watching her intently, and when she finally caught sight of his face on the stage, he gave her a wicked smile, as if to communicate that he understood her game.
A terrifying thought crossed her mind as she performed yet another acrobatic move, passing over the demon’s shoulder and landing with as much grace as possible.
Why was she there? Why was she jealous? There was nothing between them, nothing at all.
 
Stupid is what stupid do
 
This time, she was sure he had raised his voice to deliver that lyric, almost as if to warn her, but she was so tossed about by her thoughts and the dancer that she couldn't focus. She was acting like a jealous girlfriend when they weren’t even together and had only slept together once.
What the hell was she doing?
 
Shot 'em with a bang
Love him down, down I shot my baby with a bang
Shot em' with a bang
Bang, bang, bang, bang
 
The music ended, and she found herself in a casqué in the shark’s arms, his fangs dangerously close to her nose.
The demon was probably smiling, but she widened her eyes and quickly pulled her head back, raising her hands in surrender.
“Got plans later, sweetheart?” he asked, almost growling.
“I regret to disappoint you, my finned friend, but the young lady already has an engagement”.
Alastor’s voice reached her before she could see his face pop up from behind the demon’s shoulders; who still hadn’t pulled her up. The shark let out a growl, but then seeing the Radio Demon’s face, he immediately let her go and vanished in a split second, leaving almost a trail of smoke behind him.
Before she could realize how it happened, she was in Alastor’s arms. He placed one hand on her back and the other laced with hers, leading her into a much slower and calmer dance than the previous one.
“So, you’re spying on me now” he grinned, amused. “It seems I still hold your soul captive, even without chains”.
Sam looked at him, trying to put on the most intimidating expression possible. “I was just curious to see the club. I didn't even know you'd be here.”
A decidedly pathetic lie given the scene she had voluntarily created, but he seemed unbothered and continued to smile at her, this time more sweetly.
“As you wish, ma belle” he whispered. “I thought after what you said today, you wouldn't feel like going out and would need some time alone with your thoughts”.
Her heart skipped a beat. He had heard everything, and she felt terribly embarrassed; she had opened up like that, protected by the very fact that he wasn't supposed to be listening. She should have guessed that he was hiding somewhere, enjoying the misfortunes of others.
She lowered her gaze, but he bent down toward her to meet her eyes. “A touching story, brings a tear to the eye”.
She lifted her face to confront him, feeling anger surge in her chest. “You shouldn’t have heard that.”
She found herself performing another dip before returning in front of the demon, close enough to feel his warm breath on her skin. “Don’t you trust me? You wound me”.
“Of course, I don’t trust you, I’m not that stupid,” she spat out. “Until yesterday, you had me in chains, and you still would if it weren't for the fact that...”, she deliberately stopped herself; she didn't want to touch that subject.
Alastor narrowed his eyes. “Yet I haven't spoken to anyone about what happened. I respected your desire to believe it was by my will”.
He twirled her around, then pulled her back, holding her even closer to his chest.
“Are you trying to tell me you kept the secret for me and not out of wounded pride? Don’t mess with me” she said sarcastically.
Alastor squeezed her hand tighter, stroking the back of it with his thumb. “Believe whatever helps you sleep better in the middle of the night, ma petite”.
She immediately caught the reference to the song but chose not to show it and kept her eyes locked on his vermillion ones. “I seriously don't understand you, Alastor. What do you want?”
His smile cracked for an instant, and she saw the effort it took to maintain it. “And what do you truly want?”
He had her cornered with that question, and she found herself silent as they were carried by the sweet notes, dancing as if they were alone and the rest of the crowd couldn't even see them.
“I asked first” she replied softly, trying again to look away.
The demon leaned toward her again, brushing the tip of her nose with his own. “I want everything”.
She smiled as her heart accelerated at the closeness between their lips. “I don't think that's possible, even here.”
“It is, if you desire it enough”.
They remained silent, watching each other, their lips almost touching, but both maintained that distance as if to see who would give in first, and Sam felt the irrepressible urge to close the gap immediately. At the same time, she didn't want to yield, especially when she didn't even know what she truly wanted from him. She was sure she felt an attraction that was impossible to resist, but she didn't want to believe it could turn into anything more.
She closed her eyes, giving up all resistance and leaning in slowly. “I want you to stay with me tonight” she whispered, feeling him tremble the moment she uttered those words. “And I wish you wouldn’t...”
“Alastor!”
...leave, she finished mentally, as the demon increased the distance between their bodies, letting go of her hand but keeping the other firmly on her back.
Mimzy had elbowed her way through the crowd, her small eyes bright and vibrating.
“I thought you’d grant me an encore! It’s not easy to get you out of the house,” she commented, without even glancing at Sam.
Unbearable woman, she thought, staring at Mimzy to make her presence known.
“I regret it, ma chérie, but I told you I would only come for that favor I owed you, and with the one from last time, we are now even” he replied calmly, his ears twitching slightly back.
So he came for a favour she told herself, as embarrassment grew along with the urge to vanish. If it weren't for the demon’s hand firmly encircling her hip, she would have fled.
The flapper finally decided to turn to her, her eyes widening in astonishment. “For all of Hell, you look just like Maggie! That’s why I thought I’d seen you before.”
Sam looked at her, puzzled. “Who?”
Mimzy didn't answer but pulled Alastor closer to point at Sam, as if he could notice something different from his position than what he had already seen. “Remember Maggie? She was always at the club working as a waitress and dancer! Tell me she doesn't look exactly like her.”
Alastor's eyes passed over Sam several times, but he finally shrugged indifferently. “She reminds me of no one” he replied with conviction.
“What do you mean?! We were all convinced you’d declare your feelings eventually. You were at the club every time she performed” Mimzy continued relentlessly, practically shaking his jacket.
The demon seemed to hold his breath for a second before gently pushing the woman away. “I regret to disappoint you, but now, as in life, I am not particularly interested in such things”
Oh, really? she thought, shocked, watching him with narrowed eyes, but he gave her a wink from behind Mimzy’s back, managing to calm her.
The woman grabbed Sam’s cheeks, lowering her to her height, forcing her to bend forward so as not to hang from her grasp. “Two peas in a pod, for heaven’s sake.”
“I’m sorry, but my name is Samantha” she slurred due to the tight grip.
She noticed Alastor nervously twirling his cane, his eyes seemingly lost in inscrutable thoughts.
“If you’ll excuse me, I shall withdraw for a moment” he said, giving a slight bow. “Until later, ladies”.
Sam tried to follow him, but the woman blocked her way, drowning her in chatter about the times she performed in life and how Maggie had nearly stolen her spot as a dancer, but couldn't sing, so Mimzy won out.
Sam nodded to avoid being rude, but because of the interruption, she completely lost the demon in the crowd and let out a resigned sigh.
When Mimzy finally stopped talking, Sam quickly said goodbye and resumed her search, but there was no trace of him. She desperately wanted to know more about that famous woman, although from Alastor’s expression, it seemed like more of the flapper's conjecture. Besides, she just couldn't imagine him in life chasing after a woman... maybe with an axe, but certainly not out of romantic interest.
She checked outside, but apart from the line of people still waiting to get in, there was no sign of him.
She sighed, discouraged, rubbing her arms with her hands, trying to look around. A shadow disappearing down an alley caught her attention, and convinced it was him, she rushed after it, only to find herself alone and far from everyone else.
She advanced a few steps, then turned back to leave, but was suddenly struck and fell to the ground, landing in a puddle.
The same figure who had struck her grabbed her by the hair, making her scream, but before she could call for help, a strong-smelling rag was clamped over her mouth, and within seconds, the outlines of things began to blur until they went completely dark.
“That was easier than expected.”

Notes:

And here we are again!
Yes, I'm leaving you hanging again, but from here on out, things are really going to "take off," so this break was necessary.

That stubborn girl, Sam, categorically refuses to try and reflect on what's happening to her, and on top of that, she has definitely gotten herself into trouble.
Alastor, of course, continues to pretend that she's just a source of amusement, but he even gives up on tearing her soul apart after she dared to escape his control.
The name of the mysterious woman comes out: Maggie! Who knows... maybe Alastor wants to hide her for a specific reason? Or is there something more behind it?

See you Monday for the update! :D <3

Chapter 13: Tag, you're it

Notes:

WARNING: This chapter contains scenes of strong violence, including sexual violence, and some brief descriptions of mutilations!

A little note: the song during the chapter is not included, but I thought it fit the context very well, and it's also a beautiful song. The choice is yours whether or not to listen to it while reading.

Tag, you’re it – Melanie Martinez

Sam felt groggy and disoriented, the outlines of things still struggling terribly to become vivid again. She tried to move her arms, but it wasn't possible, nor was it possible to move her legs. She tried to raise her head, which was dangling forward with great effort, and found herself inside a large basement with metal walls, almost like a bunker; a lamp with a dim light hung above her head.
She lowered her gaze to look at herself and found she was tied to a creaky wooden chair, and a strong smell of dampness immediately caught in her throat. Her head kept spinning, and her eyelids were as heavy as millstones.
The sound of shoes on the floor made her turn, but not enough to see who was behind her. She felt anxiety growing, as the darkness began to clear and the light of the bulb intensified. Okay, Sam, think about the YouTube videos, what did you learn about escapes?
She took a few seconds, then let her head slump forward again. She watched them for a laugh but had never truly paid attention, also because she never thought she could be kidnapped. Wait, was this really a kidnapping? Whoever was behind her didn't seem intent on approaching, and not attracting their attention seemed like a good idea. Better not to see the kidnapper, or the risk was getting killed.
She kept her eyes down, observing the rope tightly bound around her waist, while her feet were tied to the chair's legs. Any movement was revealed by the cursed creaking, and she found herself sighing despairingly, as fear increasingly took hold, clouding her mind.
"Help!" she started screaming with all the breath she had, even though she knew that by doing so she would attract the attention of whoever was in the room with her.
The person behind her began to laugh, as the steps produced a ticking sound, like the cowboy boots she saw in the movies. She fell silent as she heard the kidnapper coming closer and immediately closed her eyes; she didn't want to see who was. She felt her face being grabbed violently, but she squeezed her eyelids shut even tighter, praying that someone would find her soon.
"You think if you don't look at me I won't kill you?" a male voice mocked her. "Don't hope for it, you were dead the exact moment you walked in here. I can even tell you to call me Striker, you won't be able to tell anyone anyway."
Shit, she thought, trying with all her might not to burst into tears in front of her assailant. The curiosity was strong, but she did her best to resist it. Furthermore, she was afraid of finding herself in front of a frightening creature, and that would only increase her fear, and she needed to remain as lucid as possible now more than ever.
"Come on, you bitch, open those eyes," the voice in front of her hissed angrily; she felt his breath on her face, and it smelled of cigar and cheap alcohol, a nauseating mix.
The blow came unexpectedly, and she felt her cheek burning and the metallic taste of blood filling her mouth.
With a backhand, he had split her lip, and she gasped while stifling a strangled cry and staring at the floor beneath her, which began to stain with blood and saliva coming out of her mouth. The kidnapper grabbed her face again, and she saw him, becoming almost paralyzed.
He had a strange appearance, like an anthropomorphic snake; completely different from Sir Pentious. His skin was pinkish, his eyes had faded yellow scleras and green, concentric irises. The black pupil was the same shape as a reptile's. He let out a hiss when he saw the blood running onto his hands too, as an insane smile began to reveal his sharp teeth.
He was dressed like a cowboy, and in another situation, she would have found it amusing to tease him, but the demon in front of her was not joking; she read such a frenzy in his eyes that it gave her chills. Alastor, decidedly scarier in his demonic form, had never made her feel such a profound and visceral terror. While looking at him, she couldn't shake off the feeling of sliminess that his gaze left on her.
"Good little whore," he laughed, giving her wounded cheek a tap and moving a few steps away to sit on a chair opposite her. He pulled a gun from his holster and began slowly inserting the bullets inside, whistling serenely.
She was so scared that she couldn't even let out a scream. Every time a bullet entered the cylinder, she thought about which one would splatter her brain and, above all, what it was like to live in nothingness. She was already in Hell; there was no other world to end up in or an afterlife to rest in.
The void would be her home.
"Please, don't kill me," she found herself murmuring almost against her will, as tears without sobs ran down the sides of her eyes.
Striker raised his face from the gun, smiling at her again. "Not immediately, if that makes you feel better."
It didn't make her feel better at all. In those reptilian eyes, she only read perversion and sadism, and the idea of dying seemed much more appealing than staying with that guy any longer.
The demon stood up, his pointed tail moving nervously and his body stretched upward. He put the gun back in the holster and drew a knife, starting to pass it from one hand to the other without stopping staring at her.
Happy now? What a great purchase you made wanting to stay in Hell she told herself, pressing her back against the chair as if trying to escape. She moved her wrists to the point of cutting them, trying to break free, but the ropes were too tight, and whatever she did, she wouldn't be able to cut them with her strength alone.
The kidnapper squatted in front of her, running the tip of the knife along her thigh until it reached the edge of her dress and continued its path, slowly lifting it, while she couldn't suppress a sob that escaped her control. This, instead of stopping him, seemed to excite him, and the blade reached her underwear and began to run slowly over it, while Sam couldn't stop trembling.
"Oh, don't move, you might cut yourself," he said with fake concern, before deliberately wounding the inside of her thigh.
This time, she didn't scream.
She felt as if she had flown away from that place, as if she was no longer able to feel anything except the anguish that was gripping her. She desperately tried not to think about what she was risking and raised her eyes towards the ceiling to avoid looking at the serpentine eyes of her aggressor, in which she could read all his perverse thoughts.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked in a faint voice, hoping both to distract him and to survive long enough to tell someone about it.
The blade on her skin stopped, moving away, and she let out a slight sigh of relief. "You pissed someone off quite a bit," he replied curtly.
Go figure, it's hard not to piss someone off here, she thought, realizing how much she had become accustomed to being ironic even in the most desperate moments as a defence mechanism.
"But don't worry, we'll have a little fun first."
Her heart stopped beating the exact moment she felt his hand tearing off her panties, and at that point, she screamed with all the breath in her throat, trying to clench her thighs as best she could, due to the position she was tied in.
When she saw him lowering towards her, she leaned back to charge a headbutt, hitting him directly on the nose. She didn't even know where she had pulled all that force from, but she preferred to die than be touched by that slimy being.
He stepped back a few paces, holding his bleeding nose, and then gave her a hateful look. "You whore!" he shouted, before delivering a punch to her nose.
She heard the septum crunch, a dull pain that made her stop breathing and also gripped her heart, as she felt the warmth of her own blood running down from her lips to her neck. She prayed to faint with all her might, but the darkness seemed unwilling to take her.
Not satisfied, the assailant grabbed her by the hair, and she felt some locks tear from her head. He held her still while repeatedly striking her with the back of his hand. Her face must have been a bruised mask of blood, saliva, and tears by now. The last slap was so hard that it made the chair stagger, and she found herself falling towards the floor, hitting her head, and finally, unconsciousness began to take her away.
The relief at the thought of being able to escape at least in that way was short-lived, because before collapsing, she heard terrifying words.
"If you think you'll get away with it like this, you're wrong. I'll wait until you wake up, and you'll beg to die again."
 
 
 
Maggie.
That name awakened something in his mind, but the harder he tried to remember, the more the images became blurred and elusive. Whoever that woman was, she had vanished from his memory. The woman he thought he would introduce to his mother, whose name he couldn't even remember until Mimzy mentioned her. Had she really been that important if he couldn't even recall her?
He ran a hand over his face before stepping out of the shadows and re-entering the club in search of his dancing partner. Mimzy had interrupted an interesting conversation that he didn't want to let drop. Besides, the closer he stayed to her, the easier it would be to figure out how she had managed to break the deal they had made. That should have been his first thought, but every time that girl's dark eyes met his, he seemed to completely lose the thread of his reasoning.
When he appeared again in the centre of the room, he was almost run over by Husk, who looked decidedly worried.
"Boss, is Sam with you?" he asked, agitated.
He tightened his grip on his cane, trying not to show his concern. "No, but she's definitely here somewhere, I don't see why worry," he was telling that lie more to himself than to his interlocutor. He didn't want to believe that stupid girl had managed to get herself into new trouble.
The arrival of the princess along with her partner, both looking breathless, completely shattered his vain hope, and he cursed the day he had decided to answer that call on earth, all to pursue a plan that had never seemed so foolish as in that moment.
"Alastor, she was with you, have you seen where she might have gotten to?" the former angel asked, removing her feathered headband with annoyance.
He shrugged, feeling his shadow moving behind him as if insane. He was losing his calm in that instant and had a bad feeling about her sudden disappearance. Samantha certainly didn't shine for thoughtfulness and calmness, but she surely wouldn't have been so stupid as to wander off alone with someone.
He slipped through the people until he found Mimzy, sitting at the poker table with other demons, entertaining them with amusing stories and a lot of alcohol.
"Ma chérie, have you seen Samantha by any chance?" he asked her, trying not to let the growing worry show.
The woman looked at him perplexed. "Who?"
He clenched his teeth, hearing them grate, while narrowing his gaze. "You know perfectly well who," he replied curtly, feeling anger pressing on his chest.
Mimzy put on a falsely thoughtful expression. "You mean the little girl from earlier? I think she went out, she seemed to be looking for someone."
Merde, he thought, enraged, realizing that she had probably come looking for him and had foolishly stepped out into the street alone. He crawled through the people again, reaching the outside, but still not finding her. He turned in every direction until he spotted a dark alley, thinking that it was just like her to slip into a place like that.
Once there, he immediately noticed something shiny on the ground that he instantly recognized as the headband she had in her hair, along with a white handkerchief left on the ground.
He squeezed the piece of cloth tightly when he realized it was soaked with a substance he himself used to use in life to make his victims lose consciousness. Not much time had passed since they lost sight of each other; whoever it was didn't want to take her far, given that the effect didn't last more than half an hour, or so he hoped. He had no other clues about her location, nothing useful to follow.
Horns began to grow on his forehead, feeling his power expand due to the fury he felt at the idea that something of his had been stolen from right under his nose like that.
No, it wasn't just anger that made him feel that way, it was a decidedly more intense and profound feeling, one he thought he had never truly experienced.
He was afraid, afraid for her.
 
 
 
When she reopened her eyes, the first sensation she felt was a great disappointment and bitterness in finding out she was still alive.
The moment she had lost consciousness, she had hoped not to wake up, to leave the other world forever, but non-life clearly had different plans. She was still lying on the floor and for the moment her attacker seemed to have vanished. One of her eyes was so swollen that she could barely see through it, while she felt dried blood on her face and more still flowing from her lips and nose. Her face hurt terribly, as did her head in the area where she had hit the floor. She breathed slowly, hoping the kidnapper wouldn't notice she was awake.
She slowly moved her wrists, realizing that the ropes seemed to have slightly loosened around her waist, perhaps due to the continuous shaking and her attempts to wriggle free. She continued to try to move with studied slowness and after minutes that felt eternal, the rope seemed to give way, and she freed her arms from her waist.
She crouched down silently to untie her legs and when she was free she turned to look around better. The basement was almost completely dark, except for a red light that was flashing intermittently. There seemed to be no trace of the bastard and she began to crawl until she pulled herself to her feet, while looking for a way to escape. When she found the doorknob, she tried to pull with all her strength, but it was locked from the outside and she collapsed on the ground, crying against it.
"Shit," she stammered as she cried. "Alastor, come get me please."
Of all the names she could have uttered, his was the first to come to her lips, because in that terrible moment he was the only one she wanted to see enter through that door. She dreamed of being in his arms, safe as much as he could be considered safe, and in a place far from all that physical and mental pain.
Her fantasies were interrupted by approaching footsteps near the door and her heart began to beat fiercely in her chest again.
She couldn't stay still, she had to try everything.
She grabbed the chair and stood sideways to the door, hoping to catch the enemy by surprise. Sam gripped the wood tightly, while trembling like a leaf and holding back her sobs. When the door opened, she launched herself with the chair against him with a scream, breaking it over him forcefully.
When he collapsed, she tried to lunge outwards, but was grabbed by the ankle by his tail and found herself on the ground again, being dragged back inside. She dug her nails into the floor, feeling them break from the force with which she tried to hold herself to the ground.
"Where do you think you're going? We haven't even started playing seriously," he hissed, as he closed the door and straddled her, restraining her wrists. "This little trick is going to cost you a lot, you filthy whore."
She tried to kick and struggle, but he was stronger and she couldn't shake him off in any way.
He leaned down towards her and shoved his long, slimy tongue into her mouth, but she responded by biting it until she tasted blood and heard his scream.
When he painfully withdrew, she spat his disgusting blood in his face, looking at him with contempt.
"You're a bastard pig."
At that point, there was no point in staying silent to avoid worse, he would do it to her anyway, and letting out all the anger and pain seemed like a good way to go. If she died, at least she would die fighting.
Striker grabbed her head, slamming it against the ground repeatedly, until she felt her strength fail again.
"Do you think you can talk back to me? Bitch! I'll be the last thing you see and feel before you say goodbye to hell!"
He was shouting, railing against her, and there was no way for her to protect herself. He turned her over, pushing her belly down on the ground, lying on top of her to prevent her from escaping. The demon was heavy and it was impossible for her even to kick. Her face was planted down in the dust of the filthy basement, and every movement was true agony for her body.
The sound of a belt being unbuckled and the feeling of her dress being pulled up jolted her.
No, she wouldn't let him do this to her, she didn't want this to be her last memory before dying. She tried to crawl away, but he rested an elbow on her back, preventing any movement and blocking her breath.
"Crawl, slut, try if you want," he hissed.
When she felt his member approaching her, she screamed with all the breath in her throat and only through the strength of desperation did she manage to place her palms on the ground and push him back, making him fall.
She jumped on top of him and grabbed his knife with a speed she couldn't even explain, perhaps dictated by the insane fear she felt at the idea of feeling that vile thing inside her.
He raised his hands. "What are you going to do? You wouldn't kill me."
She held the knife high. Who knows how many times he had done this to others, who knows how many more he would have raped and killed if she hadn't stopped him.
Before she could lower the blade, he grabbed her wrist trying to rip it away, but she bit his arm with all the strength she could muster, even tearing off a piece of skin in the heat of the moment. A new scream of pain echoed in the room and this time she didn't waste time and stabbed him forcefully in the shoulder.
She would have liked to aim for the neck, but just lowering the knife had been a considerable effort, and when she pulled it out, she struck him again in one arm, then in the other, while he thrashed and screamed.
She got up, staggering, hitting him in the chest with all the strength she could manage, not knowing if she had actually managed to kill him or not, and then headed towards the exit.
She stumbled toward the door, adrenaline coursing through her veins more than blood, and began to run barefoot up the stairs, feeling that he had already gotten up despite the blows and was chasing her. She reached the top of the ramp and pushed open a heavy metal door, finally managing to get outside.
She was in an isolated area, probably still in the city even if she couldn't say where. She had left the hotel so rarely that didn't even know which direction to take, but the urgency chose for her. She ran in what seemed like the most illuminated direction, while beginning to shout for help, but not a single light turned on in the buildings; it seemed completely deserted. "Alastor!" she screamed then, as tears streamed down and she heard her attacker's footsteps getting closer and closer.
She sped up her run until she found an alley to hide in among some garbage bins, holding the blood-stained knife tight to her chest and putting her other hand over her mouth to prevent herself from being heard sobbing.
A sound behind terrified her and she turned around, pointing the weapon in that direction ready to strike, but her wrist was blocked by a familiar hand and when she looked up she met the eyes of the Radio Demon.
Sam remained motionless for very long seconds staring at him, unable to believe he had actually arrived.
She had never seen him with that look, his eyes were wide open and his mouth was no longer curved in his usual smile. He was serious, staring at her while his breathing was accelerated as if on the verge of exploding.
Alastor reached out a hand towards her face and she recoiled for a second, still too frightened to be touched.
"Shh," he murmured, releasing her wrist and stroking the back of her neck. "It's alright."
Sam felt more tears stream down her cheeks, but this time tears of emotion for truly having him in front of her after praying repeatedly to find him.
She threw herself onto his chest, ignoring the pain in her face and wrapped her arms around his waist as she gave in to desperate sobs, and he held her back and kissed the back of her neck.
"Don't leave me alone again," she whispered through tears. "Do you understand, you asshole? Never again."
"Never again, Sam, I promise," he replied softly.
She didn't want him to ever leave her again, she was convinced of it. She had blurted out those words without thinking, still shocked by fear and anxiety, but it was what she wanted. In the most terrible moments, she had called out for him despite everything that had happened, and as absurd as it was, at that moment she wouldn't have wanted anyone else's arms holding her.
A sort of mournful growl coming from Alastor's throat made her tremble and she raised her face to look at him. His eyes were changing, his antlers growing, and the smile on his mouth had reappeared. His face was a mask of pure rage, as he slowly let her go and moved her behind his back.
"There's the bitch, you're hanging out with the Overlords, I see," Striker hissed Alastor's title with deep contempt, as he emerged from the alley.
She looked at him with anger, convinced that he had very little time left to live. She squeezed Alastor's hand that was pushing her back, much larger than hers.
"You should have stayed in that sewer of the Wrath Ring, dear Imp, you will regret crawling out of your hole," Alastor hissed, moving toward him and letting go of her hand.
Striker smiled almost smugly, holding a rope pulled from his belt with one hand. "You goddamn Overlords are all the same, you think you're the masters but you're just scum."
Sam leaned against the wall, as the two began to confront each other and she finally felt safe since the Radio Demon had appeared. He was monstrous, but nothing compared to the bastard who had tortured her in the brief time he had kept her imprisoned. She didn't even want to imagine what he would be capable of doing to her if he caught her again, and in her heart, she regretted not having had the strength to kill him with her own hands.
"Social envy? Is that why you take damned souls and kill them? Trite, predictable," the demon laughed, as his limbs elongated and shadow tentacles emerged from his back.
Striker clenched his teeth furiously, starting to move the rope in his hands to make a noose, and Sam wondered what he thought he could do against the radio demon with that simple weapon.
And what if it wasn't a simple rope? she found herself wondering in terror, but before she could warn the Overlord, her tormentor had already thrown it, grabbing him by the wrist.
At first, the demon didn't stop laughing at the feeble attempt, but he stopped as soon as he found himself returning to his normal size.
Sam watched the scene with terror, while the other launched himself at Alastor with fury despite the wounds she had inflicted on him, hitting him in the face with a punch.
She put a hand over her mouth, frightened when she saw him collapse to the ground, his monocle broken on the asphalt.
As always, she didn't think long about her moves before acting and rushed into the middle to try to protect him, but the cowboy grabbed the arm that was holding the knife, twisting it and making it fall. She bent over her knees in pain and he didn't waste time, hitting her with a kick to the abdomen so hard she thought she would vomit.
She lay on the ground, seeing Alastor's eyes wide open, as he propped himself up on his elbows after the blow he had just taken, the rope still tied to his wrist.
The enemy was fast and before the Radio Demon could react, he had bound him tightly with that same rope, which began to emit a golden light. Once done, he repeatedly kicked him hard in the abdomen and Sam saw him spit blood onto the ground.
The fear and anger were growing stronger and she tried to crawl toward him, but just trying to get up caused her a sharp pain in her ribs, making her collapse to the ground again on her side.
"Blessed rope," Striker said, satisfied, as he stood over them proudly. "It nullifies demon powers, unfortunately for you."
Alastor didn't stop smiling, looking at him with half-closed eyelids and a trickle of blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. "Too weak to fight on equal terms, right?"
Sam wondered how he could think of being witty at such a critical moment. She tried to approach him, stretching out a hand, but Striker violently stomped on it with his boot, making her scream.
Only then did she see Alastor's face change expression, becoming terribly worried.
She was grabbed again by the hair and dragged back towards the kidnapper, who grabbed her face, forcing her into another kiss, and she, for the second time, bit him violently, under Alastor's furious gaze.
"Touch her again and I swear I'll rip your guts out of your belly and force you to eat them."
The demon's voice seemed to come from the darkest depths of Hell and his eyes were reduced to two red pinpricks; if he had been able to, he probably would have torn him to pieces with the sheer force of his gaze.
Striker wiped the blood from his mouth, looking at him scornfully. "I don't think you're in a position to threaten."
He pulled the pistol from its holster and pointed it at Alastor, and she tried to wriggle free, but he restrained her arms with his tail, preventing her from escaping. "I would let you watch what I have in mind for her, but I don't like threesomes, these will put you to sleep for a while." Alastor turned to her, almost wanting to reassure her that everything would be alright, but she couldn't accept defeat and wouldn't watch him die.
She stomped on the demon's foot with all the strength she had and when he bent over, she kneed him in the testicles, freeing herself and running towards the Radio Demon to untie him.
She felt her skin almost burning, as she was pervaded by a sensation she had never felt until that moment. She felt strong, powerful, as if she were about to explode.
"Sam!"
The gunshot reached her ears along with Alastor's voice and for her, time seemed to slow down.
It wasn't so much the will to protect herself as the will not to see him die that moved something within her, and she felt that force expand outside of her, almost like a new limb she had never used before that moment.
The bullet shattered against a sort of vibrating, dark barrier, and it took her a few seconds to realize she hadn't been hit.
"The bitch knows how to show her claws then, but there's enough rope for both of you," Striker replied, grinning, as with a quick movement he managed to wrap what remained of the rope around her wrist and fired another shot.
Their attacker's eyes widened in horror as he realized he had failed again. "It's not possible."
The barrier showed no sign of fading and Alastor stared at her with a tight smile and wide eyes. She looked at him puzzled, not understanding what was happening.
"Was that you?" she asked him, as she managed to free him from the rope, the angry screams of the enemy almost distant, as if they couldn't reach her.
Alastor shook his head, as the rope fell to the ground as if stripped of its power.
"I'm sorry, my dear, it seems we'll have to seriously investigate your nature, but first, if you don't mind, I have a job to finish."
Sam blinked several times as she looked at her hands. The adrenaline was so strong that she couldn't clearly perceive the events that had just happened in rapid succession. She picked up the rope that was previously intensely shining in her hands and that seemed to have lost all its power once she touched it.
She turned, seeing Alastor regain his cane and go almost skipping happily towards the enemy, who had meanwhile collapsed to the ground and was trying to crawl backward.
She felt immense satisfaction seeing him so frightened and the idea of seeing him die was no longer so averse to her.
Sam approached Alastor to better observe that being who was whimpering curses and had gone from frightening her to pitiful in the blink of an eye. Now that she saw him crawling like a worm in terror, she found him small and insignificant.
Alastor left the path clear for her, almost giving a slight bow of his head. "Would you like to go first, ma chérie?" he asked her, grinning.
Oh, how much I would like to, she thought, as she felt that never-before-felt power shake her tired limbs and give her new vigour.
She crouched down toward the crawling Imp who desperately begged them to spare him. He had practically emptied the entire clip at them without result.
She looked at him with hatred, before whispering in his ear. "Crawl, slut."
She saw him tremble even more, before starting to curse louder. "You're just a cock-sucking whore," he pulled out a knife to try to strike her full in the face, but the barrier protected her and the blow missed, stopping the blade a few inches from her eyes.
One of Alastor tentacle entered her field of vision, grabbing the Imp's arm and twisting it so violently that Sam distinctly heard the bones shattering, as the wrist bent until it snapped in half and revealed the bone. The resulting scream pierced her eardrums and made her step back.
The barrier seemed to fall and she felt that strength vanish, as she walked backward in Alastor's direction.
"I warned you, now I'm going to make you watch as I break your body piece by piece," he grinned, turning to Striker.
She looked at Alastor who was observing her with a sort of satisfaction on his face and she held back the tears given by the anguish slowly leaving her body.
The Radio Demon then turned back to his victim, his smile widening. "Do you know what I truly regret? That I can only tear you to pieces only once."
The tentacles grabbed the screaming Imp, as he thrashed to free himself and she closed her eyes at the exact moment Alastor cleanly ripped off his arm, showing her tendons, ligaments and bones.
At that point, only agonizing screams and the sound of tearing flesh reached her ears.
The power flowing over her seemed to dissolve, leaving her exhausted and tired, and she collapsed onto her knees while putting her hands over her ears not to hear.
She wasn’t sorry he was suffering, but she still couldn't watch or listen to that carnage.
She clutched her head and curled up into a ball, before finally collapsing to the ground, captured by dreams.
 
 
 
Scent of fresh flowers and tangerines. A smell so familiar, that smelled like home.
She opened her eyes and found herself lying in a comfortable, large bed with soft sheets that caressed her skin. She was in her palace, the one she used with her family for the summer and she was so serene at that moment.
A ball would soon be held to celebrate her official debut in society, and she got out of bed barefoot to comb her hair in front of the large dressing table mirror. She observed her fair face and untied the hair that she had kept in soft braids all night, then grabbed the soft-bristled brush and began to comb it.
It was outside conventions that she did it alone, but she didn't care. Her parents always scolded her for those infringements of noble protocol, but she hated having her hair pulled by the maids.
A knock on the door and her mother's warm voice woke her from her morning ritual and she invited her in, without taking her eyes off the mirror.
"Christine, still in your dressing gown?" her mother admonished her, entering in a splendid dress in shades of light blue.
She gave her a sly smile. "It's still early mother; I have time before music lessons."
"If you look at yourself in the mirror too much, the devil will appear sooner or later," she scolded her again, while calling in the maids who began to move frantically around the room, opening the windows and curtains and airing the sheets.
One tried to approach to take care of her hair, but she invited her in the kindest possible way to let it go.
"Milady, it is not proper for you to do it," she murmured with her head bowed. "Let me take care of it."
Her mother gave her a grim look, before rolling her eyes and bringing a hand to her temple theatrically. "Years of teaching etiquette and you still get told off by the maids, you'll never find a husband, Christine."
She turned to look at her own reflected face, while wondering if a man was really what she wanted. The image of her face became increasingly evanescent until it reappeared in another mirror.
Little remained of her fair skin, her face disfigured by a large bruise on her eye that she tried to cover with makeup, while holding back tears.
"Your dowry wasn't worth having you constantly underfoot, you can't even bear a child!"
The voice of her husband, the man she thought would be her saviour from a tedious life, had turned out to be a heartless monster who abused her every night in the hope of having a male child. She could never carry a pregnancy for more than four months and eventually he stopped trying, beating her savagely whenever he came home drunk and after visiting some brothel.
She lowered her face and when she raised it again, she was old. Only the memory of her youth remained, and nothing more.
Alone, in a dilapidated house, her noble title only a vague memory.
She slowly grabbed a vial of belladonna and took a sip, waiting for the eternal night to carry her away.
 
 
 
Alastor was watching over her since they returned to the hotel, while she continued to be captured by a sleep that seemed unwilling to let her go.
He had brought her to her room and laid her on the bed, while the other guests gathered at her bedside.
"What happened to her?" Charlie asked him, her hands covering her mouth to hold back sobs.
He sat silently on a chair, placing a wet towel on the dried blood to clean it. One of her eyes was swollen and a purplish mark was already making its way onto her fair skin. Her lower lip was split open and bleeding at the slightest touch; fortunately, her nose didn't seem broken although it was visibly enlarged.
"Whoever that son of a bitch is, I'll kill him with my own hands," Husk hissed, his fur bristling on his back.
He didn't even turn to look at him, too busy taking care of her. "It's not necessary, he's already dead," he replied dryly, thinking back to the ultimate satisfaction that had permeated him when he had dug into his flesh with the angelic blade the Imp carried, until he reached his rotten heart.
He would have liked to check the rest of the wounds on Sam's body, but he couldn't bear to look. The thought of discovering that the bastard, of whom only shreds remained, might have abused her, tore him up inside and made a blind fury grow in his chest. Not even his death amidst atrocious suffering had been able to quell it; he felt restless and ready to explode.
He got up from the chair, passing the towel to a trembling Charlie. "Change her and check that she doesn't have any other wounds."
Vaggie cautiously approached him. "What kind of wounds?"
He shot her a stern look but tried to restrain the trembling in his voice. "The kind that don't heal easily," he replied tonelessly, and she must have understood, because a tremor shook her shoulders and face.
Angel clenched all four fists, as he turned to leave with him and Husk. He closed the door behind him and tried to take a deep breath, directing himself towards the bar and leaving the two to await news.
He couldn't stand still, he needed to drink. His mind was blank, blinded by hatred for having risked so much for her.
No, he was lying to himself. He was angry because he hadn't protected her, he hadn't protected something that should only be his.
He grabbed the whiskey bottle directly from the bar cabinet, uncorked it, letting the cap fall to the ground, and drank it straight from the spout.
The intense burning in his throat somehow managed to calm him, but that newfound serenity was short-lived.
The image of her being hit before his eyes while he was helpless, that slimy son of a bitch pressing his filthy lips onto her sweet ones, her choked cries of pain, her disfigured face.
It was too much.
He threw the bottle against the wall and it shattered into a thousand pieces, while the shadow behind him only grew in size, obscuring the entire room. He held his head in his hands and felt his heart explode in his chest. He had heard her call him; the same call that had brought him to earth and it was only thanks to that desperate cry that he had managed to reach the abandoned area of Pentagram City. If she hadn't done it, she would have met the same end as his mother.
"Alastor."
The princess's voice reached him and he found himself still pressing his temples with his hands, while staring into the void in front of him. He almost begged her with his eyes not to give him that news, he wouldn't have been able to bear it.
"Alastor, we couldn't check, so I can't give you any confirmation," she only whispered, avoiding dwelling too much on what and for that he was extremely grateful to her. "If you want, you can go now, she's still sleeping."
He straightened his back, finding some calm and composure in that news, and tried to pull his usual smile tighter, but never as in that moment did it seem impossible. "She will need rest, I don't think my presence would change anything."
Damn it, he would have loved to go to her and watch over her all night, but he couldn't afford it. He had gotten too close to her and now he found himself burning with that worry that gripped his heart; it wasn't something that would benefit his true objectives.
The princess hugged her arm, looking at him seriously. "She will want someone near when she wakes up."
He smiled again, lowering his gaze to his cane. "She has many friends who can stay perfectly well beside her, you first and foremost."
The fury of the princess exploded in a second; her horns lengthened on her forehead while her hair waved loose, propelled by her demonic aura.
"You're just a coward! You prefer to run away than admit the truth!"
He leaned his back against the counter and spread his arms across it. "Oh, and what would the truth be, princess?"
Charlie's body seemed to burn and she approached him menacingly. "That you fucking care about her! You tried to hide it in every possible way, even making a deal with her to make her your slave, but you still weren't able to stop yourself from running when she needed you!"
"Only a monster wouldn't have done it," he replied, immediately regretting having spoken that sentence and looking away from the demoness's blazing eyes.
"You'll be a monster if you don't stay by her side now!"
"Enough!"
The lights began to flicker due to their conflicting auras, as they stood head-to-head almost ready to fight. He felt his teeth pressing on his lower lip ready to grow, while his heart started to speed up in his chest and the shadows on his back increased.
"If you don't go now, you'll never forgive yourself," she hissed, looking at him with anger, before leaving and regaining her classic appearance.
He remained still for a few moments, waiting for her to leave the room, then retreated into the shadows and crept unseen to her room, where everyone was gathered around her bed watching over her.
There was no place for him in that romantic scene, nor did he want to take part in it. Those feelings he had always repudiated were not for him, he didn't truly want to feel them. Yet, looking at that face finally cleaned of blood and swollen, he felt his chest tighten again in a vice, while the desire to lie down next to her to cradle her became increasingly intense.
She had asked him not to abandon her and for one insane moment he had thought he could promise her, but it wasn't right.
"We should leave her alone for a while," Angel whispered, stroking her head. "I'll stay here with her."
Husk shook his head. "No, I'm staying."
None of you should stay with her, I should be here, he found himself thinking, as he did his best to fight the urge to move them from that bed and push them away from that small, sleeping body, shaken by probable nightmares due to what she had just gone through.
Charlie re-entered the room, her face still marked by anger from their previous discussion. "I think she should be left alone, just leave the light on for her."
Vaggie turned to her doubtfully. "I don't know, Charlie, after what she went through, maybe it would be better for someone to watch over her."
For a brief instant, the princess turned in his direction as if she could see him, even though he was well hidden in the shadows projected on the walls. "One of us can stay in the next room, so if she wakes up, we'll be right here."
She was doing it intentionally to force him to stay. A bitter smile appeared on his face; she was smarter and shrewder than he thought.
After a brief discussion, Charlie convinced them to leave the room and was the last to retreat. Before closing the door behind her, she turned toward him again, giving him an almost pleading look and closing the door.
Silence fell, interrupted only by Sam's erratic breaths as she lay supine and moved her lips as if to speak, but only senseless sounds came out. He still couldn't believe that such a small and seemingly fragile creature had unleashed such power as to defeat a blessed rope; even he had been forced to submit despite his immense power.
As soon as she recovered decently, he wanted to investigate the situation, but first, she needed to get back on her feet.
She could be an ally, he thought, even though he knew Sam would never betray her friends for power. She seemed completely free from the desire to command, in fact, she was the least interested person he had ever met.
He closed his eyes, ready to leave and let her sleep.
"Never again."
Her voice was like a hiss carried by the wind and he stopped when he was about to grab the doorknob to leave.
"Don't leave me."
He clenched his fist in anger, realizing he was unable to move a single step.
Defeated, he convinced himself to go back, searching in his soul for an excuse to invent for himself for choosing to stay and watch over her.
Oh well, maybe she really could be someone to keep close for her power, he told himself again, as he took off his jacket and placed it on the chair, then sit in front of the bed.
He found himself caressing her face and her eyes fluttered as if she was about to wake up, but remained closed. He took her hand in his and placed a sweet kiss on it and she returned the squeeze, while turning on her side towards him in her sleep.
"Alastor," she murmured still asleep.
He sighed, unable to remain silent. "I'm here, I'm here with you."
Sam imperceptibly tightened her lips in what looked like a faint smile, while her tense face seemed to relax.
At that point, her hand was so tightly clenched in his that if he moved, he would surely wake her up.
Sleeping in the chair was out of the question, too uncomfortable.
What a pitiful excuse, he commented internally, as he lay down on the covers on his side, turned toward her.
He brushed a lock of hair from her face and sighed.
For tonight, I can pretend this is all fine

Notes:

And here I am again after making you wait!
In the end, the person responsible for Sam's kidnapping was Striker. Now the only question remaining is who wanted to do such a horrible thing to her.
Alastor, of course—and I would rightly add—tears him to pieces. Will anyone miss him? Honestly, I won't, lol.
We also discover that Sam is indeed a very particular soul... but who knows. I know I'm making you suffer to find out more about who she is, but I swear there's a reason!

We'll talk again on Monday <3
See you sooooooon

Chapter 14: Just pretend

Notes:

Song:
Just Pretend - Bad Omens

When she woke up, she could still smell flowers and tangerines in her nostrils. That dream had been absurd and had seemed so vivid that it felt more like a memory than the fruit of her imagination. She could still feel the tenderness of the sheets on her skin, the brush in her hair, the taste of belladonna. The more she woke up, however, the more she forgot the pieces, to the point of no longer having it clear in her mind.
She lifted her eyelids; her face must still have been swollen, and she tried to bring a hand to her lip but found it blocked. Only then did she see that it was clasped in someone else's, and she had a slight start to find Alastor lying next to her, his fingers intertwined with hers. He was still asleep, and she lost herself for a few seconds watching those relaxed features for the first time. The thin lips were not stretched into a smile and were slightly parted; his soft ears vibrated slightly, as did his eyelids. She had never seen him so serene as in that moment and found him even more beautiful. She felt the urge to caress him but remained still, enjoying that composed face. A deep warmth spread through her chest upon discovering that he had stayed with her, watching over her, that he hadn't left.
Her serenity lasted very briefly, as her mind quickly replayed the images of what had happened the previous night, and she found herself trembling like a leaf, waking the demon next to her. His red eyes scrutinized her carefully between sleep and wakefulness.
He seemed shocked to still be there but didn't let go her hand anyway.
"How do you feel?" he asked her.
Sam lowered her gaze, while a sad smile tugged at her lips. "Lucky," she murmured.
He let out a slight laugh. "If that's what you define as luck, I don't want to imagine the rest."
She tried to smile more, but her lip pulled, and she felt the wound almost reopen. She brought her free hand to her mouth to check, but just touching it caused intense pain.
The demon gently stroked her face, and when she looked in his direction, she found his eyes terribly beautiful when he looked at her with that worried and gentle expression.
His ears began to vibrate as she saw his jugular swallow with difficulty. "Did he... hurt you?"
She tried again to hide behind her mask of irony. "I think my face speaks for itself."
"I'm serious."
"I don't want to talk about it," she replied in a whisper, suddenly feeling the unpleasant sensation of that member trying to approach between her thighs. Fortunately, she had reacted, seized by sheer terror, and had saved herself from a fate much worse than the beating. Yes, lucky was the right word for her, because she genuinely felt that way despite what had happened.
Alastor, however, didn't seem willing to give up and loosened his grip on her hand to support himself on his forearm and look down at her. "Sam, tell me the truth."
"No!" she snapped, also sitting up. "He didn't succeed, alright?! What is it? Would you be disgusted to touch me otherwise? For fuck's sake, leave me alone!"
She folded her knees to her chest and began to sob uncontrollably. She felt pathetic for that outburst and that crying, but she just didn't want to talk about it. Why did everyone always want her to talk? It was so easy to bury everything and pretend nothing happened, much better than confronting things and forcing her to open her mouth when she only wanted to swallow everything until the end.
She felt Alastor move behind her and found his arms encircling her knees and pulling her towards his chest, while he stretched his legs on either side of her body. She rested her cheek against his forearm, noticing only then that his shirt was pulled up to his elbows, and she buried her nose in that warm patch of skin.
"It wouldn't have disgusted me, anyway," he whispered on the back of her neck. "I would just regret not having done worse."
A shiver ran down her spine at the memory of how he had torn her aggressor to pieces, but she certainly felt no pity for that being. Alastor had done Hell a favour by killing him, and no one would miss him.
"Thank you... for everything," she murmured, as she snuggled closer against him, who was meanwhile gently stroking her knees with his claws.
"De rien, ma petite. You don't really think I'm cruel enough to leave you in a situation like that," he tried to joke, softly blowing on her hair.
Sam pursed her lips, but this caused her a painful groan. "Who knows, maybe you would have."
Alastor moved toward her, glaring fiercely. "Don't joke about that. I would never do something like that." he replied sharply.
She merely offered him a sincere smile. "I know," she replied softly.
The demon stroked her cheek again, guiding her to rest her face against his chest, while he absentmindedly played with a lock of her hair, twisting it between his claws. She didn't want to tell him yet that he had been told he was sent by someone; she first needed to recover. If she even hinted at it, knowing Alastor, he would turn Hell upside down to find them, and she needed him to stay by her side right now.
"We also need to talk about what you did yesterday, ma belle."
She stiffened suddenly and tried to slip away, but he held her back. She didn't want to talk about that either; she was still too shaken by everything else. And besides, what was so strange? All demons were unique in their own way, and maybe that was hers. Why did she have to start investigating? She would never understand that passion for investigation that seemed to creep through this hotel.
"Avoiding the issue won't make it disappear."
She sighed resignedly, beginning to draw imaginary circles on the demon's arm with the tip of her index finger. "Can we talk about something else for a little while longer? Please," she gave him the best sad puppy look she was capable of, but he responded with a look of disapproval before closing his eyelids and shaking his head.
"And what would you like to talk about? I'm not known for being able to stay silent for long, and my profession is proof of that," he then replied, leaning his head against the headboard and looking up at the canopy above them.
"You weren't here yesterday, and you haven't told anyone why you are here," she ventured. "You could tell me; I'm curious."
He widened his smile, showing his upper arch. "I don't think so; those things aren't suitable for you."
"What's wrong? Don't you trust me?" she deliberately quoted the words he had directed at her the night before at the club, and he must have remembered, because he began to move his ears nervously, while his grin risked receding.
"You're unnerving."
"Please," she pleaded, holding his arm to prevent him from leaving. "I promise you that if you tell me, we'll investigate what happened yesterday, alone."
Alastor looked down at her, smiling cunningly. "Is it a deal?"
"You know deals with me are not in your interest," she replied ironically, returning to look at his forearm.
She heard him sigh with resignation, as he returned to look upwards. "Murder, or rather, several murders."
She tried to suppress the tremor that invaded her limbs upon hearing those words, but he probably noticed because she felt him tense his body more.
"And... did you have a particular type?"
Why was she asking such stupid questions? It was obvious that the topic irritated him, and knowing the answer wouldn't benefit her in any way.
"Let's just say they were all more or less scum like the one yesterday," he replied flatly.
Sam relaxed upon hearing those words, perhaps because she had also wanted to kill him even though she hadn't had the courage afterward. She had always thought that certain people deserved to die, but when she had the chance to do it, she hadn't had the strength. However, knowing that in life he was a kind of sick vigilante, like Dexter, relaxed her a little.
"And how did you die?" she asked him.
"They mistook me for a deer, and bang! Right in the forehead," he replied with a laugh, mimicking the gesture of a gun with his hand and pointing it at the centre of his face.
She didn't even want to know why they had mistaken him for an animal; who knows what he was up to at that moment. However, she found it somewhat amusing that in death, the horns and ears of that very animal had sprouted on his head, but she held back so as not to irritate him.
The moving door handle roused them, and before anyone could enter, Alastor disappeared into the shadows, causing her head to crash against the headboard.
"Fuck!" she hissed, massaging her aching neck. "A little gentleness!"
The creeping shadow seemed to wink at her before finally disappearing from sight.
All the hotel guests entered the room and looked at her with concern.
Angel was the first to approach her, sitting on the chair opposite her.
"How do you feel?" he asked. "Actually, no, idiotic question. What can we do?"
Sam sighed. "Don't talk about it," she replied sharply.
Husk grinned, raising his eyebrows. "I expected that somehow," he muttered.
"Was it someone you knew? Or someone you've seen around?" Vaggie asked her, in an apprehensive manner.
She shook her head. "No, at least not that I recall," she deliberately chose to gloss over the fact that the kidnapping had been organized, besides not wanting to disclose it, she had a deal with Alastor about it; they would investigate the matter alone when she felt ready.
Charlie approached her, starting to check her wounds, and with a maternal air, she helped her apply some soothing cream, while Sam complained like a child.
"Stop it! You're hurting me!" she burst out when she tried to apply the ointment to her eye.
The princess squeezed the tube so hard that a good part of the contents spilled out. "If you didn't squirm like that, maybe it wouldn't hurt so much."
When she reached out her hand to her again, she pulled back. "I swear I'll scream now!"
"For heaven’s sake, what have you been doing until now then?!"
When everyone finally retreated to let her change, she jumped into the shower, ruining all the work done by the poor demoness, but she needed to relax. As much as she pretended that the event hadn't affected her much, she was actually quite shaken. Images of what had happened to her often appeared before her eyes, and she touched the bruises that remained on her arms, and then reached the one on her abdomen where he had kicked her. She tried to push everything back deep into her soul; sooner or later it would pass, and she tried to think about how lucky she had been not to suffer worse. Everyone expected her to be distraught, and deep down she was, but was also determined not to let that event control her. Whoever he was, he was dead and could no longer harm her.
She looked at herself in the mirror, struggling to recognize herself, while gripping the edge of the sink with her fingers and holding back tears.
Yes, he's dead, but whoever sent him is still alive, she thought, as a shiver ran down her spine.
Without realizing it, she found herself kneeling on the floor, holding the towel tightly to her chest and feeling the air escape her lungs. The idea that it could happen again invaded her mind. The next time she might not have all that luck; she might disappear forever from the face of Hell and suffer the worst barbarities.
‘We haven't started playing seriously yet’.
The voice of that demon filled her ears, and she found herself covering them in an attempt to chase the sounds away, shaking with tremors.
‘Don't worry, we'll have some fun first’.
"Stop it," she whispered, clutching her head and curling up. "Shut up."
‘Crawl, you whore’.
"Leave me!" she was screaming and couldn't stop. "Go away!"
Yellow and green snake eyes staring at her, the sensation of the slimy tongue inside her mouth.
She didn't want to remember. She just wanted to forget what had happened, she wanted to shut everything far away from her mind to survive. Just thinking for a second that it could happen again was enough for her to sink into that deep terror that wouldn't let go.
She clenched her legs as it seemed to her that she felt him slithering between them again.
"Leave me alone!" she shouted again.
A hand grabbed the one she held firmly over her ears, and instinctively she jumped to her feet, while that power she had felt the previous night took possession of her again. The figure was thrown to the ground by the release of energy that had sprung from her body, and she found herself retreating, pressing her back against the wall and screaming.
"Go away! Get out, you cursed monster!"
She managed to regain clarity and saw Alastor sitting on the floor, his staff fallen nearby and his eyes wide open. His smile was gone, and he was looking at her with eyes filled with astonishment mixed with pain.
Before she could say anything, he vanished into the shadows, and she found herself alone, crying. She hugged her knees to her chest, unable to stop sobbing anymore. She hadn't meant to hurt him; she hadn't realized he was nearby until she managed to regain a minimum of clarity. She wanted to follow him, to tell him she was sorry for reacting that way, but she felt rooted to the ground.
"Sam?"
Charlie's voice reached her ears, and she found her standing in the doorway. She moved to approach, but she too was thrown back just as the Radio Demon had been moments earlier.
She found herself looking at her hands, trying to control that power that seemed to fill her to the point of exploding uncontrollably. She breathed heavily, trying to calm down, but the more scared she became, the more that power ignited. The barrier around her moved, vibrated, and expanded and contracted to the rhythm of her heartbeat, like an organ inseparable from her.
"Help me," she murmured, looking at her with wide eyes. "Charlie, help me, I don't know what's happening."
The Princess of Hell looked at the barrier with fear and slowly brought her fingers closer as if to touch it, but as soon as she did, she seemed to get burned. She stared into her eyes, seeking explanations that Sam, however, couldn't give her.
She crouched as close as possible, trying to breathe regularly. "Calm down, Sam, follow my breath," she tried to tell her. "Look at me, breathe slowly."
"What's happening to me? What is all this?" she cried out, while she continued to tremble. Whatever it was that gave her that power, it was starting to drain her strength. She felt tired again, exhausted, and the terror only made things worse.
"Just breathe," she repeated, a serene calm on her face. "Breathe and don't think about it."
She wanted to tell her that she found it absurd not to think about it given what had just happened, but she finally managed to follow her friend's advice, beginning to breathe regularly, and after minutes that seemed to last a lifetime, the barrier vanished, and Charlie could approach her. She crawled toward her and held her in her arms, while Sam continued to tremble. Her legs were no longer responding due to exhaustion, and the princess was almost forced to carry her on her shoulder to bring her back to bed, then covering her with the sheets.
"Charlie, what was that? What is happening?" she asked her. At this point, it was useless to try to keep the secret; she had seen her, and Sam was too scared of herself to continue pretending that nothing had happened.
Charlie looked at her hand, which seemed to have been burned after contact with the barrier, sighing exhaustedly. "I don't know, Sam, really," she murmured. "It looks more like the power of an Overlord than a simple soul."
Her heart began to beat faster and faster, as she couldn't grasp what that term actually meant. She knew that Alastor belonged to that category, but to reach it, he had to subjugate a large number of souls to his will, and his rank was also given by the actions committed in life.
‘As above, so below. And let the will guide the chaos’.
Those words suddenly came back to her, making her tremble, along with the dream of that night. The image reflected in the mirror, that of Catherine, was hers. She had seen herself in that mirror; she had felt what she felt. Why was this happening to her? What did those visions really mean?
Her breathing became laboured again, as she convulsively clutched the sheets. She managed to regain calm only because of the fear of unleashing that strange power again, and it was enough to make her regain rationality.
She turned to Charlie. "What do you know about premonitory dreams? Are they possible?"
The vision of her face in a completely different world had made her fear that this could somehow be her future, like a warning whose meaning she only had to find.
The princess looked thoughtful. "It's not as strange as you think, especially considering your probable clairvoyance, but you have to be honest with me. Do you think they are just visions?"
Sam lowered her gaze, unable to meet Charlie's eyes. She wasn't even sure herself; perhaps she just wanted to convince herself. Too many strange things were happening at that moment, and she just wanted there to be more calm around her; instead, everything was in total chaos, exactly like her mind.
"Charlie, I need to find some explanations, but I want to do it alone at this point. Do you know who I could go to? I want to understand what's happening to me."
She looked at her with a displeased expression. "I hope you're kidding."
She grabbed her hands, trying to communicate with her gaze how much she needed it. "Please," she begged her. "I need time to put the pieces together. Don't talk about it with anyone for a while longer; I promise I'll keep you updated."
Charlie sighed, closing her eyes and then looking elsewhere. "I don't want anything bad to happen to you again."
Sam pulled herself up to hug her. She realized how deep the affection was that had tied her to those weird people who had entered her life like a hurricane and whom she could now never do without. She didn't know if they would really manage to earn Heaven, but she would be fine with this Hell as long as they were together. They were her new, bizarre family, the one she had chosen, and she wouldn't change it for anything in the world.
"I'll be careful, Charlie, I promise," she whispered. "And thank you, for everything."
The princess moved back to look at her. "Are you thanking me for bringing you to Hell?"
She tried to hold back the tears that were stinging her eyes and smiled at her in the sweetest way possible. "Thank you for giving me a home; I missed it."
At that point, Charlie burst into a moved cry, throwing herself onto her shoulder and hugging her so tightly that it took her breath away. "We all love you, Sam, no matter what happens. Never forget that."
No, I could never forget it, she told herself, as she hugged her back.
 
 
 
Alastor had just finished gently extracting some information from Vox's closest collaborator, as Vox himself was out of town along with his two lackeys. He knew that imps almost never acted on their own free will and that the one he had torn to pieces had surely been hired by someone. He should have waited to kill him to get more information, but he hadn't been able to restrain himself.
The poor demon he had tortured had even told him, between screams, that his boss liked to get his hands dirty himself or rather have Valentino do it; so, he had to exclude them from his hypotheses. Furthermore, there were no payments to the imp on Vox's payroll, as the demon kept track of every single movement of money, whether large sums or just small change in any field, even the most sordid trades.
The demon he had interrogated would take a while to put himself back together, and Alastor watched his own shadow gloat over the violence it had witnessed, as he wiped the blood from his hands. Vox had nothing to do with the matter, and he struggled to understand who could hate Sam enough to try to take her out like that.
He started walking back towards the hotel, trying to think of a culprit, but he really struggled to believe that the girl could make such a formidable enemy. She had mostly stayed at the hotel and had only gone out with Angel Dust and only seen Valentino's dancers once. Furthermore, none of his enemies knew about their connection, and even if they had seen them the night she was kidnapped, there wouldn't have been time to organize themselves in that way. Who knows how long that disgusting creature had been stalking her, waiting for the right moment.
Nothing had made sense since Sam arrived in Hell, especially that absurd power she had unleashed that morning and the previous night. She had just died and, as far as he knew, she hadn't committed enough wicked deeds to make her such a powerful soul. He had committed horrible acts in life, although he felt no remorse for any of his victims, and once he arrived in Hell, he had worked hard to subjugate both simple damned souls and Overlords.
He entered the lobby, placing himself at the counter; apart from Husk, there was no one, probably everyone was busy at the girl's bedside.
He sat on the stool, while the bartender looked at him perplexed.
"The usual?" he asked him in a grumpy tone.
Alastor widened his smile. "It seems obvious to me, mon ami."
Husk responded with a grunt, passing him the alcoholic drink. "You look stranger than usual; may I know what's on your mind?"
He rotated the glass between his claws before taking a long sip and giving him a serene look. "I really don't understand what you mean."
Husk twitched his ears as he lowered his eyelids. "Is it about what happened to Sam?"
He was taken aback by that question, as the words full of hatred she had directed at him just a few hours earlier came back to mind. He hadn't wanted to investigate what she meant, but whether he liked it or not, it had been painful to be called a monster by her, the only one who had never seemed to regard him as such. Not that she was entirely wrong, after all, and he readily admitted that he had committed genuine atrocities that hadn't bothered him in the slightest, but coming from her, that term was difficult to swallow.
To make matters worse, he was terribly worried that he might not be present if someone tried to harm her again, and his hands were tied. He didn't want to be too close to her, and at the same time, he wasn't able to pull away. This situation would eventually drive him completely insane.
He regained his composure, lowering his eyelids and adjusting his monocle. "A truly unpleasant situation," he commented, trying not to sound concerned. "But I believe to have already remedied it."
"And do you think the situation is resolved?" Husk asked again, leaning towards him as if wanting to study him carefully.
Alastor looked at him, lifting an eyebrow. "He's dead, Husker, definitively," he didn't want to tell him about his doubts regarding a hypothetical mastermind. He didn't know if Sam was aware of it or if she simply didn't want to talk about it, but he was determined to solve the situation alone. She was too stubborn to be convinced of the need to investigate, so it was better if no one knew.
The bartender smiled with only one corner of his mouth, resuming cleaning the counter. "It confuses me to see you worried about someone other than yourself, you're even more unsettling."
"Careful, mon ami. Never forget your place," Alastor replied with a cutting tone, finding himself gripping the glass harder.
Husk raised his hands as he sighed. "It's none of my business, I was just commenting."
Alastor sighed, adjusting his jacket over his shoulders. "In any case, I would be grateful if you kept an eye on her. That girl is difficult to manage."
"And why don't you do it? After all, her soul is yours, you can command her whatever you want," Husk replied.
If it still were, I would prevent her from setting a single foot outside, Alastor thought, irritated, as that broken deal came back to mind. He merely gave Husk a threatening look to avoid touching the subject further.
"In any case, I would have done it even without you asking me," Husk continued, turning his back to put away the glasses. "Don't make the mistake of thinking you're the only one who wants her safe."
Alastor smiled sadly, thinking about how Sam had been able to win the hearts of everyone in that place. He knew that everyone would do their best for her; he was completely certain of it. Husk, especially, had developed a kind of paternal instinct towards the girl, and he found this strange and admirable at the same time.
He got up to head towards his room, but while he was walking down the corridors, he saw her. She had her hood pulled over her face, perhaps to hide the marks, and was walking slowly, head bowed. She seemed terribly fragile at that moment, and his deepest instinct was to go to her and hold her close, but he couldn't forget what she had said to him.
She probably noticed him and, as she did every time they crossed paths, her eyes widened, and an indecipherable expression formed on her lips. She seemed to be smiling in a terribly sad way.
"Can we talk?" she asked him, as he walked past her, trying to ignore her.
He froze for a second, placing his staff in front of him. "I don't see why, ma chérie."
He heard her snort and kick the floor. "You know I wasn't referring to you."
No, he didn't know, and he didn't care to be comforted either. It would be better for him to think that she considered him a monster, so that he could find a way out to definitively stay away from her. She approached him, trying to touch his shoulder, but he dodged her and turned in her direction. It was astonishing how her expressions could change from one moment to the next and how her feelings could be mirrored in his eyes. He couldn't understand why she always wanted him close and why she didn't just run away permanently.
"I didn't tell you before, but... that creature... said someone sent him," she murmured, as she fiddled with her fingers that barely emerged from the dark, much too big sweatshirt. She looked like a child wearing her father's clothes.
He smiled ironically. "Ma chérie, I had already guessed that without you telling me, and I've already done some research."
Her eyes widened, and she stared at him worriedly. "Did you find anything?"
He shook his head, trying not to look at her. "We can exclude Vox from the list for now."
She seemed to want to tell him more but remained terribly silent, and he left without looking at her further and without giving her a chance to speak.
He needed to be alone for a while without meeting her, and he hoped that time away from her would definitively put an end to this unpleasant situation.
He heard her call him, and it took all his willpower to definitively ignore her. He had to at least try to put a final stop to that absurd situation.
 
 
 
After two days of cuddles from her friends, Sam felt strangely regenerated, as were the bruises on her face. The cut on her lip was completely healed, and the bruises had practically disappeared. She had confronted Charlie again about her search, and Charlie had told her it was necessary to speak with a certain Rosie, as she likely had experience with matters of clairvoyance and visions. During that time, Sam had mentally reviewed the possible masterminds behind Striker, but if Vox was to be excluded, she had no clues. Perhaps, if she could discover the origin of those visions, she could find out more about that whole affair.
Alastor had been elusive, and she had decided to give him his space; she had learned to know him by now. Going head-to-head with him, as she used to do, wouldn't solve anything, and sooner or later, he would decide to come and talk to her, even if only to stick his nose into her business. She found it sweet that he had inquired about a possible perpetrator, although it wasn't entirely clear to her how he had guessed that Striker had been sent by someone. To keep them from worrying further, she had chosen not to mention that detail to the other guests, even though she felt guilty about being so evasive on the subject. However, it was too difficult to touch that nerve; she first needed to process it, just like all the strange things that had happened within those few days as a damned soul. After that panic attack, things had improved, also because knowing that Alastor was somehow on the trail of the culprit made her confident that they would eventually reach a solution, even though he refused to talk to her.
First he meddles, then he disappears; absurd, she thought as she put on her shoes and prepared to go down to the lobby to look for Rosie. That day she had decided to leave the hotel, even though Husk didn't seem at all happy about her going out alone. She, however, didn't want to live in fear; she wouldn't give that satisfaction to whoever had organized that brutality.
"You reckless idiot!" he shouted at her when he saw her arrive ready and dressed. "I'd like to know what you need to do that's so secret that you have to go alone!"
She rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Husk, I understand your point of view, but I can't stay locked up here forever."
Charlie looked at her worriedly, but they had talked about that too. Sam wanted to put her thoughts in order by herself first and then talk to Charlie once she had achieved greater serenity. The demoness had been forced to accept her request, but she made Sam promise that as soon as she knew anything, she would immediately share every detail.
"Maybe you could ask Alastor to come with you," the princess suggested, who probably hadn't missed the fact that relations between the two of them had suddenly cooled.
She put her hands in her pockets, looking at the stairs with a despondent air. "Maybe..." she murmured, realizing that she genuinely wanted to talk to him.
The bartender growled in response. "Just take someone with you at least."
She felt guilty for calling him a monster, but she absolutely wasn't referring to him, and perhaps the time had also come to clarify that point, so she decided to head towards his room. She knocked on his bedroom door but received no answer. She then tried to enter but found it empty, just as had happened on her first day in Hell.
She decided to look for him in the radio tower and climbed all the steep metal stairs, anxious about falling, until she reached a heavy trapdoor that was very difficult to open. She found him sitting in a chair, his feet resting on the console, his gaze fixed on an indefinite point. He was listlessly pressing various buttons, perhaps searching for the next track to broadcast. He had certainly noticed her presence but was ignoring her. She slipped inside, approaching him slowly, as if she were dealing with an animal she didn't want to startle to avoid excessive reactions.
"Hi," she tried to murmur.
In response, the demon twitched his ears, pulling them back, while continuing to keep his gaze fixed ahead. "I'm busy right now, I'm looking for something to put on," he replied curtly.
Sam lowered her gaze, then tried again with music. "I have a track; maybe you might like it."
She hesitantly handed him her cell phone to let him read the title, but he didn't take it and simply snapped his fingers, starting the song. The silence was broken only by the start of those notes and the singer's voice.
 
I'm not afraid
Of the war you've come to wage against my sins
I'm not okay
But I can try my best to just pretend
 
She remained standing behind him, twisting her hands and praying that maybe that song could help her elicit something from the Radio Demon, who had never seemed more distant than at that moment. It was absurd how he could be sweet one moment and a real block of ice the next, and this only confused her.
 
So will you wait me out
Or will you drown me out?
 
Alastor seemed to be listening carefully to what was being sung, and she continued to wait, wanting to go near him and hold him close, as she had done just a few mornings before. That day, it had seemed to her that things between them could actually change, also because he had sought her out and protected her. She had seen the way he had shielded her the moment Striker approached, the fury in his eyes when he saw him hit her. She couldn't believe he felt nothing; she just couldn't.
 
I can wait for you at the bottom
I can stay away if you want me to
 
No, she would never really be able to stay away from him. She had tried, she had done her best to try to bury those emotions that awakened near him, blaming her libido for what she felt. The reality, however, was that this feeling had changed form a long time ago, but she still couldn't accept it.
 
I know the pain
That you hide behind the smile on your face
And not a day
Goes by where I don't think I feel the same
 
The demon decided to turn towards her, his smile strained, his eyes inscrutable. They looked at each other in silence, as if they wanted to dedicate those words without necessarily saying them, and for a brief moment, she was sure she saw a look of pain again on the demon's smiling face.
 
I can wait for years if I gotta
Heaven knows I ain't getting over you
We'll try again
 
"You are not a monster," she whispered faintly, no longer able to sustain those crimson eyes and focusing her gaze on the console. She barely swallowed her saliva; she struggled to maintain a regular heartbeat again. She was certain he was still staring at her, but she couldn't look at him.
Alastor decided to stand up, and she found him right in front of her. He placed his fingers under her chin, forcing her to look him in the eyes. His face was serious again; no strained smile appeared on those thin lips.
"Yes, I am, you know I am."
 
Weigh down on me, stay 'til morning
Way down, would you say I'm worthy?
 
Sam grabbed the hand with which he held her chin, trying to hold him back. "I wasn't referring to you."
"Do you know why I wanted your soul? To have more power, because that's what I've always aimed for."
His scornful look hurt her; it seemed like he was trying with all his might to hurt her. In part, he succeeded, but she had now learned his techniques for pushing her away; every time they got too close, he preferred to be cruel, perhaps because, like her, he was afraid of what was happening between them. Furthermore, she had exploited him to obtain his death without being the first to bring it about. Both of them wanted something from the other, and she found herself wondering if they were really that different.
"And did you get it?" she asked him, trying to face him.
He nodded, releasing his grip on her hand and turning his back, as if he couldn't bear the simple act of looking at her.
"Then why didn't you just leave? What else do you want?" she asked point-blank.
The demon seemed to hunch over as she saw his antlers lengthen. "I already told you, I want everything," he replied.
Sam felt tears sting her eyes but tried to hold back. "And does that include me?" she asked, trying to stifle the sobs that pressed in her throat, wanting to escape. She didn't really want to hear the answer; she was too afraid he would say no. Maybe he would dismiss her as simple entertainment, a pastime to overcome long days of boredom. However, she had tormented herself with that question for days, and she needed to be told something, even if it meant suffering.
The demon rested his palms on the console as his body began to grow. "Leave, immediately."
She closed her eyes and bit the inside of her cheek, doing her best to maintain her composure. "Not until you answer."
He turned in her direction, his limbs unnaturally long again, his neck seeming to struggle to support the weight of his head. His antlers now grazed the ceiling, his smile seemed to completely cut his face in half, and his eyes were dark. She should have been terrified, run far away, yet she couldn't move a step. She needed his answer; she needed to finally put her mind at ease. She herself didn't really know if she wanted passion or love from him, but she would find out over time; it was enough for her that he never pushed her away again.
Alastor tilted his head to the side, making his appearance even more terrifying. "Aren't you running from the monster?" he asked her, bringing his face close to hers, his voice increasingly distorted and deep.
Sam felt her heart pounding in her temples, but against all logic, she reached out a hand towards him, stroking his cheek. His face was definitely bigger than her hand and felt warmer than usual.
"I was just scared, but not of you," she murmured, seeing him close his eyes halfway and lean gently into her palm.
"You should be, I'm not who you think I am," he replied with a note of distress in his voice. "Perhaps it would be enough for me to leave to free us both from this madness."
Upon hearing those words, Sam couldn't resist and lunged at him before he vanished in a cloud of black smoke, being dragged away with him. She kept her eyes closed, burying her face in the demon's chest, whose heart seemed to beat wildly. She convulsively wrapped her arms around his waist, terrified that if she let go, he would disappear.
"Don't go," she whispered, feeling that the body she was holding began to get smaller again, but without the courage to open her eyes. She had begged him not to go, and at that point, she herself couldn't understand how quickly things had spiralled. It had all started with a silly game, and now she found herself in Hell, enveloped by mysteries she hadn't yet been able to unravel, and he had been one of the few constants of those last times. He, who with his crazy way of getting on her nerves managed to pull a smile out of her, he who wouldn't leave her thoughts and who, as absurd as it was, had become essential.
She felt his embrace reciprocated and the usual sweet kiss on her forehead, and at that point, she forced herself to open her eyes. He was looking at her with a mixture of admiration and astonishment, while his closed-lipped smile became terribly sweet. They were back in the demon's room, and Sam was surprised by the speed with which everything had happened.
He moved his hand from her back to her face and brushed a lock of her raven hair aside. "I don't know what you expect from me, but I don't think I can give you what you want."
She leaned her cheek on the demon's hand. "I don't care, just stay," she replied with all the sincerity she was capable of, suffering as she realized she couldn't utter truer words. "Not everyone can afford the luxury of feeling normal, but you, with your strange way of being, make me feel like I am."
The demon stretched the left corner of his mouth. "So, is just this fine with you?"
She nodded convinced. "Yes," she replied confidently. "Just stay."
Alastor gave her a cunning look, leaning towards her. "I can grant you that, ma petite," having said those words, he placed a chaste kiss on her lips, leaving her completely stunned.
She passionately returned the kiss and wrapped an arm around his neck to pull him closer, feeling Alastor's touch grow stronger on her back, and she felt herself melt again. He truly was her glimpse of normality, the only one who could make her feel like she belonged despite the strange things happening to her, perhaps because he was simply stranger than she was. She didn't care to investigate the nature of the feeling that bound them, not as long as he stayed by her side, even in this way. She didn't demand anything from him except his presence. After all, she was the first one who didn't want to question what their strange relationship meant, so she certainly didn't demand that he dispel her doubts first.
She wrapped her other arm around the demon's neck as well and bit his lip, seeking a deeper contact. She wanted to erase what had happened to her; she wanted to replace the horrible memory with something different; she felt the need for it.
Alastor gently pulled her back slightly. "I don't think this is the right moment," he whispered, without moving too far away, however.
"Why don't you just shut up for once?" she asked him ironically, practically pushing the Overlord onto the bed behind him.
She wanted to lie on top of him, but he was quicker and swiftly reversed their positions, kissing the tip of her nose, while she looked at him with an annoyed expression at his response to her advances.
"I realize that would be the perfect conclusion to this conversation of ours, but I wouldn't want to take advantage," he whispered, gently stroking her face.
Sam gave him her best poker face. "Why don't you just indulge me for once?"
Alastor slightly raised an eyebrow. "And where would the fun be in that?"
She decided not to answer him and drew him back towards her, kissing him, then sliding her hands down the overcoat he insisted on wearing on every occasion, deeply hating his perpetually pompous style of dress. She slipped her hands underneath, feeling his back tense to resist the downward push she was trying to give him, and she looked at him with great disappointment, realizing that he had no intention of moving a muscle.
Her battle was interrupted by the sound of the door opening, and without thinking for a second, she pushed the demon's stomach with her knees, practically launching him to the opposite side of the bed from the door and making him fall off. She sat up, adjusting her hair, while she heard Alastor cursing at her and all her ancestors for that abrupt removal. He must have taken quite a blow, given the loud thud his body made on the floor.
Sam looked down, finding one of Pentious's eggs covering its eyes as if to hide, while its shell turned red with embarrassment.
"Oh, excuse me! The boss told me to look for the Radio Demon and his girlfriend," it murmured, trying to back away.
Upon hearing the egg's words, Sam nearly fainted.
Girlfriend? What the hell was that snake thinking? She and Alastor weren't together, were they?
The demon popped up from the other side of the bed, his hair still dishevelled from the fall and one clawed hand clinging to the sheets. "I beg your pardon?" he roared.
The egg twisted its thin hands, looking left and right to avoid meeting their gazes. "Oh no, I mean, the guy with lots of arms said you're not dating, just... what's the word... friends with benefits?"
She felt all the blood rush to her cheeks, clenching her lips to avoid yelling at the poor unfortunate who had dared to utter those words. Alastor, behind her, must have been unusually still, as she didn't hear him move a muscle.
"Get out of here!" she yelled at one point, too overcome with embarrassment and throwing one of the bed pillows in the direction of the egg, which scurried out the door.
She turned to face the Radio Demon, who had a questioning look on his face and stared at her in shock. "What the hell are 'friends with benefits'? And why did you react like that?"
She felt her face burning as she looked away and got up, trying to escape that embarrassing conversation; Alastor certainly wasn't the type to explain such things to.
"Get back here immediately! What in the name of hell are 'friends with benefits'?!"
She ran off to avoid answering and thought she had succeeded, until the Radio Demon appeared inside the elevator with her.
"Answer me," he commanded, his eyes blazing and dangerously close to her face.
She swallowed the lump in her throat, trying to catch her breath. "Um... how should I put it..."
"Quickly, if you please," he teased, his face getting closer to hers.
Sam pulled her lips into a forced smile, trying to look anywhere but in his direction. "When…two persons…sleep together…not actually dating."
Alastor looked at her, his eyebrows furrowed in a bewildered expression. "What do you mean by ‘sleep together'?"
She slumped against the elevator wall, gently banging her head against it, hoping to faint. The Radio Demon, however, grabbed her, shaking her by the shoulders as if to rouse her.
"Oh, for heaven's sake, Alastor! People who fuck without commitment, is the concept clear to you?!" she shrieked, moving her hands wildly.
Just as she shouted that sentence, the elevator reached the ground floor and the doors opened. Sir Pentious, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment, scratched the back of his neck in a desperate attempt to disguise the obvious anxiety that the absurd situation was causing him. Both she and Alastor simultaneously turned their faces towards him, probably both of their eyes bloodshot, as the demon began to retreat with his arms raised.
"Excuse the interruption, I didn't mean to bother," he hissed, trying to slither away.
Sam took the opportunity to bolt out, while Alastor tried to block her.
"But what 'benefits'?! For once that..." she saw him clamp his mouth shut as a strange radio hiss spread throughout the corridor.
She looked at him, sketching a smile and shrugging in indifference. "It counts even like that."
"How I detest you," he hissed, exiting the elevator, though she couldn't tell if he was referring to Sir Pentious or her.
When she managed to reach the lobby, she found everyone staring at the turned-off television screen, with the look of people who had just seen a ghost materialize before their eyes. Charlie nervously gripped the remote control and kept her gaze fixed on the blank monitor, while Angel drank a cocktail, completely indifferent to the situation. Husk, for his part, was sprawled in the armchair, holding his hands over his face and repeating ‘what a fucking mess’ under his breath.
Sam leaned toward Angel, searching in his eyes for an answer to those absurd reactions. Her friend, in response, snatched the remote from the hands of the Princess of Hell, inviting her to sit next to him. She tried to say something, but his look brooked no argument, and she decided to sit near him, almost trembling with anguish.
"Hold tight," he muttered, as he pushed the play button on the remote.
She found herself staring at him, feeling cold sweat run down her spine, then turning her face towards the television screen with an unnatural calmness.
It lit up, and images of her at the nightclub the evening Cherri had drugged her appeared, showing her dancing half-naked on the console after throwing her dress into the crowd.
‘Is this really the 'redemption' the Princess of Hell speaks of?’
The crackling voice recorded on the tape began to spread through the room, and Sam wanted to sink through the floor and disappear for eternity.
As if that weren't enough, after those scenes, others appeared. The video she and Angel had filmed for the hotel had been expertly edited, keeping only the parts where they moved in a terribly sensual manner, and sighs similar to those of orgasms had been inserted in the background, edited to make it sound like they were making them. She felt her body stiffen, clenching her jaw to the point of feeling it almost break along with her teeth. Charlie, meanwhile, had buried her head between her knees while Vaggie tried to calm her down with strokes on the back of her neck.
The message ‘REDEMPTION OR A WAY TO LEAD YOU INTO TEMPTATION?’ began to appear on the screen, while both she and Angel seemed to be screaming in the throes of a wild orgasm.
"Tsk, you can tell those are prerecorded voices," Angel commented, moving his hand nervously; that had to be at least his fourth drink, given his tone of voice. "I certainly don't make those noises; I'm a professional."
Husk lifted his head from his hands, looking at him astonished. "And you think that's the problem?!"
The images changed again, showing the behind-the-scenes of the studio where she had recorded the video for Vox. She was without her mask and directing the dancers, and from the shots taken, it looked as though she was flirting with both of them, when in reality she was simply explaining the steps. Whoever made that montage was a true master of mystification, as everything had been cut so well that it made it look like she was touching Shawna's breasts.
‘The Princess of Hell hires professional porn actors to work at the hotel—a way to expand her business because she knows it will fail?’
"Professionals?! That's an insult to my category; Sam wouldn't be capable!" Angel burst out, earning a look of denial from everyone present.
Oh God, what a ridiculous thing, she thought, twisting a lock of hair to the point where she risked pulling it from her head.
The subsequent montage was the one that definitively made her lose the little calm she had left. The moment Valentino had slapped her butt and a shot of her face that seemed to be winking at him, probably modified by artificial intelligence. Everything looked so real that even she might have believed it if she hadn't been there in person.
"OH NO, DAMMIT!" she shrieked, standing up. "IT DIDN'T HAPPEN LIKE THAT!"
Charlie, meanwhile, was only repeating one phrase like a broken record. "It's a disaster."
The last image showed her in Vox's studio the day she and Angel went to talk to him. She was still sitting on the floor after Valentino had hit her friend, and the demon with the television face was standing in front of her with his legs spread; from that perspective, however, it looked like she was doing something else entirely, and the urge to kick the television invaded her.
‘Her employees are so desperate from the situation that they'll grant anything to escape, ANYTHING’.
Before the broadcast could continue, a black tentacle struck the centre of the screen, destroying it and terrifying everyone present, who jumped up in their seats.
"Alastor!" Vaggie yelled. "You pendejo, did you think it was appropriate to smash the television?!"
Sam turned towards the Radio Demon, whose eyes seemed to be bloodshot and whose smile was on the verge of splitting his face in half. Green sparks emanated from his body, while the shadow behind him grew so large that it occupied the entire wall behind him.
"Don't worry, I'll take care of another screen shortly," he hissed, as his body seemed to tremble.
Charlie jumped to her feet instantly. "Oh no! If you kill him, you'll only make the situation worse," her cheeks seemed to have regained colour, and her body began to emit intense heat.
Alastor turned to her, tilting his head in an unsettling way. "It's unlikely that a dead demon can spout more absurdities, don't you think?"
Sam saw him head toward the door and catapulted herself over the back of the sofa to try to stop him. Charlie was right; if he killed him, he would only risk giving more credence to that madness.
"Alastor, listen to her!" she tried to call out to him, standing in front of him. "Don't you think it's better to try to resolve the situation in a way that doesn't involve murder?"
The Radio Demon seemed to want to incinerate her with his gaze. "Why all this concern for that pale imitation of a demon?"
She let out a guttural growl, passing her hands over her face and pulling the skin taut. "Oh, for the love of heaven! Don't you think I'd also like to beat him up?!"
"Fine, then you can come with me. Assuming you can pry him out of my hands to get your share."
She waved her hands in front of his face, trying to attract his attention. "Please, can we talk about this calmly?"
"He questioned your honour and the hotel's credibility; there's not much else to say," he hissed in response, his eyes turning black.
"What honour?! Are we in the 1800s?! At most, he insulted me."
"Someone else here is risking Sam's honour," Angel laughed out, too drunk to take the situation seriously.
Both she and the Radio Demon glared at him, then returned to look at each other.
"Move or I'll move you."
Sam, in response, sat down in front of the exit door, spreading her arms. It was a decidedly stupid decision; if he wanted to, he could throw her across the room with a snap of his fingers, but her reaction seemed to stop him nonetheless.
"What are you doing?" he asked venomously.
"Passive resistance, I think," she stammered, tucking her head into her shoulders.
Vaggie materialized in front of them, preventing the Radio Demon from lifting her up and probably slinging her over his shoulder to drag her along with him.
"Can you reason for two fucking seconds?! This is not the time for your bullshit!"
Charlie arrived next to her partner, holding her hands up in a gesture of supplication. "I can handle this; I can try to contact some friends to get another interview with Katie Killjoy and try to set things right. I could even bring Sam with me."
"Oh sure, the last one went so well," Husk commented flatly, as he tried to snatch yet another drink from Angel's hands.
Sam looked at him with a perplexed expression, while she remained glued to the door. "What interview? I'm not setting foot in there! After that ridiculous fiasco on world television, I just want to hide."
"Then you agree with me that we should make him pay, right?"
Sam repeatedly hit the back of her head against the door in a gesture of total exasperation. "Why this, too?"
"You're making too big a deal out of it; maybe instead, a lot of people will come to see Sam and me," Angel commented, sprawled on the couch.
He received an angry look from everyone present, except for Pentious, who probably hadn't grasped the meaning of that statement.
"So, you're saying it's good publicity?" the latter asked, scratching his head perplexed.
Husk ran a hand over his face, looking exhausted. "Oh, yes, of course, a crowd of horny people will come knocking on the door to fuck these two; that will certainly be a great thing," he muttered sarcastically.
That comment only increased the fury of the Overlord, whose shadow tentacles seemed to move wildly on his back. Sam gave the bartender a pleading look, whispering, ‘Please help me’, while the urge to disappear at that very moment took hold of her soul. After everything that had happened in the last few days, she thought things couldn't get any worse, but a persistent knock at the door made her reconsider.
"Is anyone there? I'd like to propose a job to Angel. If he's not available, the girl is fine too," a voice from outside drew the attention of those present, and from the tone he used, everyone could understand what kind of "job" he meant.
Shit, he's going to cause a massacre, Sam thought, feeling sweat trickle down her temples.
"See? We already have one," Angel slurred.
Alastor roughly pushed both Vaggie and Charlie aside, then grabbed her by the arm and pulled her forcefully to her feet, placing her behind his back with an authoritative air. Before Sam could even think of stopping him, Alastor's tentacles had blocked her mid-air.
He flung the door open, and a demon with the appearance of a ram materialized before them, a long overcoat covering his body. It didn't take her long to realize he was probably naked underneath, given the way he clung to it. The smile vanished from the face of the unfortunate individual as soon as he met the blazing eyes of the Radio Demon, whose mouth was wide open as if to swallow him in a single bite.
"Oh, I'm sorry," he murmured, trying to back away. "I didn't know you were already busy."
Only then did Sam realize the scene the unfortunate person had found himself facing. Angel was on Husk's shoulders, thrashing around, completely drunk, while Husk tried to hold him to take him back to his room. She was tied upside down like a salami by Alastor's tentacles and dangled slightly behind him. If her hands were free, she would have covered her face in shame, but two tentacles held her arms still, preventing her from at least hiding.
Just one more mortifying moment, she thought desperately, her lips pulled downwards. There wouldn't be a hole deep enough in all of Hell to bury the tremendous embarrassment she was feeling right now.
Alastor, meanwhile, was growing taller and taller to the point that his antlers ended up hitting the top doorframe, eliciting a guttural growl from him.
Charlie tried to intervene, and the Overlord seemed strangely serene for a second, as if an amusing thought had popped into his mind. That calmness made Sam's blood run even colder in her veins, as she continued to be held in the air by the tentacles.
Her anxiety increased when, with a snap of his fingers, Alastor summoned small, dark creatures that angrily rushed at the ram demon in front of the door, forcing him to flee and chasing him down the hotel road.
"What the hell are those?!" she yelled, as she was put back down on the ground.
Alastor turned to her with an amused smile on his face. "Oh, just some small friends; they'll know how to take care of him."
She glanced over his shoulder, seeing the unfortunate soul run away at full speed while the small beings tore at his clothes with their claws and tried to bite him.
What a hell of a life, she thought ironically, as she closed the door behind him and slumped against it.

Notes:

Hello everyoneeeee :D
So this chapter was very much an interlude, because next week two chapters will arrive that will reveal many backstories; yes, I'll finally decide to give some answers to the mysteries LOL
Vox finally made his move for revenge; I know I put a flea in many people's ears with the kidnapping story, but in reality, his plan didn't involve Sam's death—unless you can die of embarrassment.
It remains to be revealed what is actually happening to Sam and who could have it in for her in such a deep and brutal way. We also reach a tiny step forward for Sam and Alastor, who finally at least try a little bit to DTR (Define The Relationship), even though they're not exactly good at these things, let's face it.
See you sooooon!