Chapter Text
“Big talk for someone who's also on a leash.”
Alastor stopped in his tracks, irritation instantly souring his mood and making the lights around them flicker. Of all things Husk could gamble with, did he have to pick the truth? If his objective was to exhaust Alastor’s good will—well, he’d certainly hit the jackpot! And oh, was he about to get his prize!
He barely turned to look over his shoulder, radio dials fixed on his thrall.
“Aha… what did you just say?”
The chain was in his hands before Husk had enough time to respond, the annoyance boiling into anger with each step he took towards the gambler.
“If you ever say that again…” Alastor began, turning the chain in his hand while he echoed the words that had sealed his own fate, the lights in the hallway going off one after the other. They barely required changing, besides adding some flare into his deliverance. “—I will tear your soul apart and broadcast your screams for every other disrespectful wretch who dares to question me!”
“Understood!” Husk’s trembling voice snapped him back into composure.
Alastor felt the stitches tightening his smile against his will, forcing himself back into the role of practiced entertainer he was. “Lovely.”
With a blithe little laugh, he composed himself and hurried down the hall to catch up with the impromptu tour Charlie was hosting for her dear father, almost missing the short figure leaning casually against the wall.
It took a few more steps for Alastor to stop and do a double take. Unfortunately the King continued to stand there, smiling like the cat who had not only gotten the canary, but was also about to enact the kind of casual sadism felines were best known for on it.
“Y-your Majesty!” He said, and no, his voice did not crack, thank you. “May I ask how long you’ve been standing there?”
The King gave the hallway he’d just vacated a telling look, before dragging his eyes back to Alastor’s.
“Long enough.”
If the smirk had been smug before, it was now positively oozing with satisfaction. Lucifer had heard everything, a major hindrance in Alastor’s plans.
“My, I was aware you had a track record of failing expectations, but I did not expect to witness it this quickly! Not even five minutes and you’ve already ditched dear Charlie? And she was so excited to have you see her dream in motion, for once,” Alastor said, the acidic words coated with fake sweetness.
He was counting on Lucifer’s reaction, already picturing the undignified look on his face at the reminder of his noticeable absence in Charlie’s affairs, yet the King merely raised an eyebrow. He looked amused of all things, like Alastor was doing something droll. The way his red-and-gold eyes seemed to look right through him stirred not just irritation, but an undesirable wariness.
Throwing another attempt at diversion, he continued.
“Then again, I suppose you don’t actually care for her ideals, why—you haven’t even noticed all the improvements made by yours truly! Unlike others, I’m always up to the challenge of Charlie’s bizarre little requests.”
“Oh, I noticed,” Lucifer mockingly agreed, his smile so wide Alastor could count the multitude of sharp teeth gleaming in the low light of the hallway. “How positively altruistic of you.”
Sharp feedback blared around Alastor, his irritation escalating to vexation in record time. He knew exactly what Lucifer was doing—he had been wielding a smile as a weapon long enough to see the gesture in others for what it was.
“At least—” Alastor hissed, his voice projecting with the same radio flare behind clenched, unmoving teeth. “—I was here.”
Lucifer clicked his tongue. “Uh-huh, and of course you’re staying out of the goodness of your heart?”
“Of course,” Alastor lied, his right eye twitching. “I’ve been here from the start, after all. She knows she can count on me.”
“Indeed! And now that you’re here, she can count on me as well.”
He disliked the tone the King used, it felt like a threat. Was he mocking him? Lucifer had heard his talk with Husk, and it was evident he knew more than Alastor was prepared to deal with. His only potential card was Charlie, and if he lost her he was fucked.
His owner would not tolerate failure.
“She won’t listen to a word you say about me,” Alastor threatened. “Not when she holds me in far higher regard than you.”
“That’s cute,” Lucifer pushed himself off the wall, sauntering closer and regarding Alastor from under the rim of that atrocity he called a hat. “You actually think you know my daughter.”
“I know her well enough. If you think—” Alastor hissed, his eyes turning into dials and the lights flickering as his antlers grew bigger while he towered over the short monarch. “—that I’ll let you waltz in and ruin everything that I’ve worked for—”
Lucifer’s blackened hand closed around Alastor’s mouth, choking his words. He was yanked down in one swift motion, unable to help the undignified sound that escaped him as his backside collided against the stupid hardwood floor, with Lucifer now leaning over him. The King’s silhouette was glowing gold and his eyes a deep, searing red; and while Alastor had seen his six wings unfurled before, the horns were new.
And large.
And burning.
The temperature plummeted before he could even consider retaliation, so much it hurt to breathe. The wooden floor cracked and splintered, as frozen under his palms as everything around them, but it wasn’t the gelid air that had him trembling.
The King wasn’t suddenly taller, but he certainly felt like it, his shadow looming so large, it seemed to be one second from swallowing him whole.
Sharp claws dug into his cheeks, and Alastor braced for a pain that was never delivered. Instead, Lucifer pulled back, a glowing green thread curling between his fingers. With an effortless flourish, every stitch across Alastor's mouth unraveled, leaving him gaping at the twisted thread hanging from the King’s fingers.
“That one’s a freebie,” Lucifer said, stepping back and burning the thread, unnecessarily dusting his pristine coat after. “If you’re interested, we can talk terms.”
With that, he adjusted his hat and spun his cane, turning around and humming his way down the hall, leaving Alastor staring after his retreating back in stunned silence.
Only when the King was gone did he let himself notice that for the first time in seven years, he wasn’t smiling.
***
Catching back up with Charlie’s impromptu tour of the Hotel wasn’t difficult. Alastor could have navigated the shadows but decided to walk, if only to give himself some time to process what in the Seven Rings of Hell had just happened.
The smile on his face was a conscious choice this time, the ache that used to pulse in his cheeks gone. He actually had to remember to hold it in place because the stitches that had made it a permanent fixture were gone. It hadn’t even hurt, and perhaps that little detail was the most difficult for Alastor to process.
Lucifer had made the breaking of such imposition look easy, and thinking back on it, it shouldn’t have surprised him. He was The Devil, it was safe to presume he had power— Alastor just hadn’t paused to imagine what a demonstration of said power would look like. Especially after such an underwhelming display with the accordion.
He hadn’t been able to even touch the bindings on his mouth, yet the King dealt with those as he would a minor inconvenience.
It was impressive—and a little infuriating.
The irritation, however, was quickly doused and set aside by more pressing matters, like the fact that this moment could be the opportunity Alastor had been waiting for to free himself from his shackles. All he needed to do was play his cards with the right strategy. What such a strategy would look like was still in the works—but he was very good at improvising.
The key lay in earning Lucifer’s attention, and redirecting it from dear Charlie to himself was not an option, at least not entirely. Lucifer was here to visit his daughter after all… but he could always inch his way to standing out a little, right? Only, you know—a smidge more amicably this time around.
“These are our people, Dad! I... I have to try.”
Lucifer looked incredibly unimpressed with his daughter’s declaration, and Alastor could not blame him. He would be the first to openly declare that Charlie’s view on Sinners was a tad too optimistic.
“Our ‘people’, Charlie, are awful! They got gifted free will and look what they did with it! Everything’s terrible!” Lucifer said, wheezing. “I just don't want you to put yourself on the line for people like—”
The building suddenly shook as the opportunity Alastor had been literally looking for presented itself.
“—like that!” Lucifer finished, scoffing.
Alastor moved to stand next to the King, leaning over the balcony railing and quickly spotting the source of the ruckus. A group of Loan Sharks were trying to force their way inside the Hotel, using a battering ram in an effort to break down the doors—which honestly was so rude. He’d just had those repainted two days ago!
“Mimzy! We know you're in there, you lousy bitch!”
Lucifer opened a portal to quickly step into the lobby, but Alastor didn’t even bother to look at Mimzy when all eyes turned to her for answers. In fact, he all but filtered her voice out while the sorry excuse of an explanation was delivered.
He resisted the urge to sigh, even if the twitch in his left eye betrayed him. Typical Mimzy.
Of course she was in trouble, and of course that trouble had grown exponentially as she was incapable of dealing with it in a civil manner. Husk being right in his prediction that her presence was guaranteed to bring trouble to their doorstep was not entirely new, far from it… but that didn’t mean Alastor had to like it.
While the newly painted door held off, the windows were another story. A shame, considering the impeccable job Niffty had done to bring them from the greasy, opaque mess they initially were to an acceptable radiance, now laying shattered on the floor. To make matters worse, several fireballs were burning the carpet—because apparently the Loan Sharks had a whole siege’s worth of arsenal to their disposal. Either Mimzy’s offense was greater than she’d made it seem, or these people were prompt to exaggeration.
At least Husk had the good sense to not look smug, despite earning it.
“You see, this is exaaactly what I'm talking about, Charlie. You built something nice, and what did these people bring you in return? Violence and chaos,” Lucifer began, dodging a fireball like it was a fly and leaning on his cane. “It doesn't matter how well intentioned you are, they’re always going to disappoint you.”
Lucifer’s unimpressed gaze landed for him in that second, and Alastor saw the problem that Mimzy had brought with new eyes and a drooping stomach. He needed to fix this now, before his chance slipped away. Perhaps he could show the King some of his impeccable skills by getting rid of this pesky situation?
“All of you, get to a safe distance. I'll take care of this,” Vaggie declared, and that was unacceptable. He was not about to let this little girl steal his spotlight.
“No, my dear, leave it to me.” Alastor said, pointedly pushing down that spear she liked to wield around. “It’s time I remind everyone why I am here.”
He made sure Lucifer was looking before calling upon his magic to manifest it around himself and the Hotel. The King merely raised an eyebrow, but he looked interested, and that was all Alastor needed, a little demonstration for his Majesty was sure to make a proper impression. He was defending his dear daughter’s Hotel, after all!
Delivering oblivion to the Loan Sharks was easy, he could not only have done it sooner, but faster as well. Alastor still chose to have some fun instead, because despite declaring his intention of devouring each of these pests, it wasn’t like that would do anything to satiate his appetite—so he might as well get something out of it, even if it was just entertainment.
The group was over ten people, and even consuming them all, the satisfaction would only last a pitiful timeframe, a few minutes at most, an hour if fortune was on his side, which it seldom was when it came to these matters.
He ate them anyway.
“—no point in trying.”
What was that?
“Dad, stop! He’s defending this Hotel,” Charlie said, her voice making his way over the screams of the Loan Sharks. “It may be a bit more sadistic than I'd hoped, but he's doing it for me!”
Not really, but the darling princess didn’t need to know that.
“How come he can have faith in me but my own father can't?”
Alastor almost choked on the poor bastard he was eating. Of all the times Charlie could have chosen to compare him to Lucifer, she had to choose this one? Goddammit, he wanted to impress Lucifer, not piss him off!
Okay, fine. He had been trying to piss him off before, but he needed him now…!
It had been so easy to rile the King up with the whole Father-Daughter charade, comically funny. Even more so, considering Alastor was the furthest thing from a father figure anyone could think of, but the idea of digging his claws on the King’s very obvious weak spot had been irresistible to someone in his position.
And now it might cost him the best opportunity he might ever have to get his freedom.
Catching Lucifer’s crestfallen expression upon hearing his daughter’s words told Alastor that the quicker he enacted some form of damage control, the better. He could not afford the King’s indifference.
Shrinking back to his regular size, Alastor reached for the set of double doors—those were going to need to be fixed on top of the new coat of paint, how bothersome—when Mimzy walked up to him with a satisfied smile on her face and a completely unwelcome compliment on her lips.
He moved his hand so fast, he ended up slapping it over her mouth and not feeling remotely bad about it, not this time.
“Mimzy, I swear to fucking Satan: if you ruin this for me I. will. end you!”
The yelp was expected, and so was the scoff that followed as she pushed his hand away, glaring. Alastor found himself lamenting how annoyingly correct Husk had been in his assessment of Mimzy and his own tendency to indulge her for the umpteenth time. Well, not this time.
Alastor grabbed her by the shoulders, his eyes shifting into dials and antlers doubling in size while the shadows simmered at his feet in response to his foul mood.
“Đꝋ. Ꞥꝋⱦ. Ⱦēꞩⱦ. ᛗē.”
He was looming over her with his jaw unhinged and three steps from ending a friendship that he actually cared for, when the little blond did the sensible thing and quickly nodded, the feather on her hair piece falling to the floor in a puddle of blood.
Alastor was back to his regular self not half a second later. “Good! Thanks for stopping by. Please never come again.”
With a twirl of his cane, he finally made his way back inside. It seemed he’d arrived halfway through the King and Princess having a musical heart to heart—because of course they were singing, the apple really didn’t fall down from the tree, huh? Alastor felt his eye twitch, Lucifer’s singing voice was—dare he say it?—angelic. Of course it was, of course...
With the musical number ending in a duet and an embrace, it was clear the King and his daughter had reached some sort of understanding. About what, Alastor had no idea—but he was going to make his way into it.
Or at least that’s what he intended, if not for every fucking body in the room managing to step in his way, and by the time he managed to get closer, Lucifer was making an exit in a swirl of read and gold.
Their eyes met. Then the bastard winked, before stepping through the portal without so much as a backwards glance, leaving Alastor standing in the middle of the foyer, staring at empty space.
His newfound ticket to freedom had just left, and Alastor had no way of contacting him.
He took a deep breath, and marched towards the half burnt couch, grabbing the only decorative cushion that had survived the ordeal with not a single thread out of place, and smashed it against his face to scream into it.
“Oh Alastor!” he could vaguely hear Charlie gush nearby. “See, this is a wonderful stress relief method, much better than dismemberment. I’m so proud of you!”
He screamed louder.
***
Three days.
He couldn’t believe it had only been three days. The stupid, decorative calendar cheerfully reminding him that time had been dragging at a moribund snail’s felt like a personal insult.
It wasn’t like his nerves were getting the better of him, of course not. He was calm, and collected, and he was not shaking with trepidation, that’d be ridiculous. Lucifer was going to contact him—he’d been the one to make the first move, so it was safe to say the King was interested in Alastor’s capabilities, otherwise he would have not offered to talk terms at all.
Right?
So what if Charlie chose the worst possible time to make a very unhelpful comment about him to her father? Lucifer seemed fine after their family reconciliation, that cheeky wink was telling. So, Alastor had absolutely nothing to worry about.
Well, mostly.
Now that the stitches in his mouth were gone, he did have to make a conscious effort to keep that smile in public, and he wasn’t entirely sure his contract holder was none the wiser of the situation, which might be a just cause for concern. Despite his years of servitude, Alastor still wasn’t entirely sure where such limits of awareness lay in regards to his person.
Hence: the smile. Besides, a smile was a powerful weapon, it had always been, and his own was no exception— especially now that he had regained full control over it. Thus armed, Alastor made his way around the Hotel, simply to pass the time, and nothing else. He might have asked for an update or two in regards to dear Charlie’s upcoming trip to Heaven, but that was simple curiosity.
Yes. Just that.
“Has anybody seen my phone?”
Charlie’s voice bounced around the halls, her steps echoing as she shuffled from one room to another in search of the little communication device. The very same tool Alastor was currently holding in both hands and had been staring at for the past hour.
This hadn’t been his first choice. Alastor had tried several alternate methods before even considering the… cellphone. He’d gone over every single edition of the yellow pages of the last fifty years, and even tried to request a call connection from the operator. Neither gave him results, and the operator had had the gall to laugh at him, which had had her swiftly moved to participating in his Broadcast—as soon as he figured out her identity.
For now, he was busy with Charlie’s phone.
Honestly, she had forced his hand. Alastor had simply wanted to know if Lucifer had called with the finer details of the visit he had arranged for her, and perhaps any potential messages that could be directed towards Alastor himself, because Lucifer was yet to contact him—but of course he could have asked Charlie to pass a message, and perhaps in the excitement of the upcoming trip, she’d forgotten to deliver! It could happen to anyone. He was simply making sure that was not the case.
At least that was his intention, because the phone refused to cooperate. It remained firmly locked despite Alastor’s best efforts to bypass such stupid things. He had expected a password, not this… biometric, over the top security—it’s not like anyone would care to snoop on her phone!
And before anyone could erroneously presume otherwise: no, he was not snooping. He was simply attempting to retrieve the message she’d surely forgotten to deliver—maybe acquire Lucifer’s contact number along the way, but nothing more. There was a difference.
Alastor aggressively tapped on the phone once more, but the little animation continued to mock him with its polite message stating the digital print was not recognized. With a frustrated groan, he all but slammed his forehead on the offending device. Not like he expected such a primitive solution to work.
Well, maybe he did… it used to work from time to time with other devices, despite Vox’s insistence on the delicacy of advanced machinery. Like Alastor hadn’t personally witnessed the hypocrite using the same method countless times.
“No,” he said out loud before his shadow even made a sound. “I’d rather die.”
His shadow gasped, placing a hand over their chest while looking offended, but they both knew the thought of requesting –or, more realistically, bartering—for the assistance of their old pal had crossed their mind for at least a split second. A ridiculous thought, obviously.
Charlie’s steps sounded more harried as she returned from yet another guestroom to the hallway, now going down the staircase. “Damn it, where is it?”
His shadow nudged at him, both in the penumbra and out of view of those present around the foyer. They saw Charlie pass in front of the couch they were under a couple times, but Alastor didn’t move an inch, and typed—near punching—the phone again simply because he could.
The uncooperative piece of shit denied him once again. He was about to just let the penumbra just eat the damn thing, when the phone went off, the icon of a duck wearing a hat and the label DAD flashing across the screen.
Alastor slithered from under the couch and reformed out of the shadows, phone in hand.
“Oh, Charlie dear! I found your phone!” he said. Which was technically true. He’d found it. On the kitchen table where he’d taken it from. Details.
Charlie reached the foyer a couple seconds too late to pick up the call, and Alastor did an excellent job of not taking a bite out of the wall. Smile. Powerful tool, see?
“Thank you so much Alastor!” Charlie said, taking the phone from his hand.
“Where did you find it?” Vaggie asked, as usual trailing behind her sweetheart like a faithful little lapdog, her one eye narrowing on him.
“The floor, obviously.”
“...Obviously.”
Charlie didn’t pay attention to the little exchange. “Oh, I got a voicemail from dad!”
Alastor was beside her before she could even blink. “Did you, now?”
Charlie tapped the phone with the kind of gentleness the damned device didn’t deserve, and unlocked it in less than a second, and Alastor was not bitter about it, why would he be? It’s not like he lost a fight against an inanimate object, that’d be stupid.
He kicked his shadow before the unruly thing dared to laugh.
Oblivious to his strength of character, Charlie made a shrill sound, jumping around the foyer while listening to whatever message Lucifer had left for her. Very cute, but he had other things to worry about.
“Ehem,” Alastor cleared his throat pointedly. “Anything for me? No messages from your dear father?”
Charlie stopped jumping. “Huh?”
“...Why would her dad talk to you?” asked Vaggie, nosy thing that she was.
“Instructions!” Alastor said.
“Instructions?” Charlie echoed. “Like what…?”
“Something for me to take care of? As the Hotel Manager. Because this is about the Hotel, obviously, as I'll be the one holding the fort in your absence.” he grinned, making sure his smile didn’t so much as twitch. “Any such minor requirements, my dear! Now tell me, what did your father say?”
Charlie looked between him and the phone, shaking her head. “Uhm, he didn’t mention you…?”
“Oh well, that’s—”
Not disappointing. Why would he be disappointed? Alastor had no reason to be disappointed. Sure, Lucifer was yet to contact him, even if he had the chance right there, while leaving a message for his daughter. Inconsiderate as that was, Alastor was not upset by it, not one bit.
“Are you okay, Al?” Charlie asked.
“Yes, my dear. Why wouldn’t I be?”
She looked up, where his antlers had branched out and gouged an unfortunately placed light fixture, then down at the penumbra lashing at his feet. Wincing, she batted away one of the green floating veve around them. “No reason...”
He turned around because he had better things to do than stand there being judged by the princess of Hell and her nosy pest of a girlfriend, and he did so in a very dignified manner. Alastor was multifaceted, and thus stomped his feet on every step of the stairs with the proper amount of poise and grace.
As he’d said, he was the hotel manager and there were many things the decaying wreck needed, like a new wallpaper for the third floor’s main hallway—nevermind it was tearing down because he’d dragged his claws across it while marching towards his room, the thing had been peeling off well before he helped finish the job, anyway.
His shadow opened the door to their room before Alastor tore it off its hinges, not like he cared. Still, he gave himself the satisfaction of slamming it shut with one shadowy tentacle before making his way to the couch, where he proceeded to let himself fall face first. He might also have used a cushion to muffle his voice while he kicked and screamed, and that was entirely his shadow’s fault for not letting him tear the whole thing down.
He’d dug his claws on the fabric beneath him and started chewing on it out of sheer spite, when a noise filtered over the static that the cushion hadn’t muffled.
Alastor slowly lifted his head, only to find Lucifer sitting on the plush chair next to the couch, biting his lip in a poorly concealed effort to disguise his mirth.
“Is this a bad time…? I can come back later.”
Alastor slammed the cushion against his face again, his renewed, muffled scream two entirely earned octaves higher.