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A sharp pull by the chain around his neck caught Alastor by surprise after his radio show that morning. He knew it was not a coincidence that Lilith had waited until he was alone to summon him, probably at that point preferring to not let another soul know about their association. And, considering Lucifer’s wards protected the hotel and the king could easily detect whoever tried to break them, that meant she had to call the Radio Demon to another place.
In that case, it appeared to be a fancy hotel out of Pentagram City, probably a smaller city around Pride. The room was perfectly clean, with the furniture shining in gold and purple colors, the former Queen of Hell resting over a long chair while holding a glass of wine in her hands. It was evident that, despite having officially lost her title —Lucifer’s silent statement at the Gala didn’t need more explanation—, she was still doing rather fine. Which did not come as a surprise, really, as Alastor knew Lilith was powerful and intelligent by herself, making her more dangerous.
“Tell me, pet” she said, eyes not bothering to fall on him, “how does it feel to have all Hell judging you? I have heard the most interesting theories about what you might have done to convince my husband to be with you. Some of them are rather original!”
In the past, his survival instinct would have kept the sinner from answering. At the moment? He was pissed, and she might still own his soul, but the threat she had used to get it in the first place was not within her reach anymore. So, he chuckled.
“Well, let them talk, my dear! We have the support of the Sins, as well as the Ars Goetia, so why should we care about other voices? Besides! It is not as if it’s an scandal, is it? You’re divorced after all…”
In retrospect, Alastor could have held back the last comment, but the slap he received was worth the angry expression on Lilith’s face.
“Don’t you forget who has the power in here, Radio Demon” she warned, calling the chain of his soul in her hands. “You’re at that hotel, close to my family, because I allow it. Continue vexing me, and you’ll be out.”
Rolling his eyes, the sinner spat out saliva mixed with blood from his broken lip.
“Now, tell me about what has been going on at that hotel” she demanded. “And I also heard about a meeting with Heaven, right? I want all the details, Alastor. Hold anything back, and you’ll suffer the consequences.”
He tried resisting, closing his mouth and clawing at his cane, but the words exited his lips against his will, informing Lilith about everything that had transpired during the last five months. Only his sharp mind allowed him to manipulate the phrasing from time to time, being able to hide details or pieces of information that, depending on her plans, could be more or less important.
After an hour or so of talking and answering questions, Alastor could feel his mouth dry and vocal cords tired of the effort of having words forced out of him. And all that after a few hours of broadcasting in his tower! Surely his throat deserved a rest after all the effort.
The most maddening part was that, despite his best efforts to obtain some knowledge about Lilith’s intentions, she did not let anything slip out. It looked as if she was simply interested in knowing how Charlie was doing, and how involved Lucifer was with the agreement with Heaven. The only thing he found odd was her questions about the political situation in terms of alliances between figures of Hell and the king, of which she probably knew as much as him, anyways. Did she want to know how many were loyal to Lucifer because she intended to start a rebellion of her own? Or was it maybe because alliance with the devil also meant safety for Charlie? Perhaps she just wanted to stay updated on a social circle in which she didn’t belong anymore? There was no way for him to tell.
Rationally, Alastor knew that Lilith had a plan. Something big, probably involving all Hell and Heaven. An event in which he would be a pawn at her mercy to use. And that he could accept! The sinner had, in fact, come to terms about that a long time ago. Now, however, there were other pieces on the board he could not deny he cared about. Someones whose sacrifice would not be tolerated. So, if he could just learn something. If he could just somehow warn them…
“Go back to the hotel” Lilith ordered once she was done hearing his updates. “Protect Charlie.”
The Radio Demon huffed.
“That would be easier if I knew what the real threat is.”
“You don’t need to know more than what I tell you” the former Queen said. “Protecting my daughter implies that you will be there for her. You will make sure she is safe. And if another threat comes for her, you will be her shield. Do you understand?”
“Yes” the word was compelled out of him.
“Yes, what?”
Oh, this bitch.
“Yes, Your Majesty” he spat out, almost biting his tongue in resistance.
Lilith just laughed.
“Don’t forget your place, pet” she said as the shadows forced him to go away, his powers under her control at that moment. “And don’t get too comfortable with Luci, hm? Or do you really think he will keep you once he learns who owns you?”
Self-preservation be damned, Alastor bared his teeth towards the woman as darkness engulfed him before being throwed back into his studio. Only one thought remained in his mind, repeated over and over again.
She is right.
Deciding to spend that night by himself was almost a need, not feeling ready to share his space with Lucifer while he was uncapable of telling him the truth. Instead, he used the dark hours to do something he was an expert at; finding loop holes. Of course, he had been trying to break or modify the deal over his soul for years now, never managing a success and often leading to a series of angry outbreaks coming from frustration.
A part of the Radio Demon could not avoid blaming himself for his present situation. Not because of the deal, mind you —he would agree to it again, with the same terms, if necessary—, but because of the absence of improvement in its limitations. Once in the Hazbin Hotel, and especially since having Lucifer by his side, he had grown… complacent. Yes, Alastor had felt the compulsion to tell him about his association with Lilith several times —unsuccessfully attempted, too—, but the lack of results had made him stop trying. On top of that, not even the comeback of the former Queen herself had changed anything so, why worry about it? Back in the most egoistical part of his mind, he had thought that maybe he could just enjoy what he had for as long as it lasted. That he had tried enough already, and it was useless to forbid himself from enjoyment just because of a lack of honesty he had no control over.
Until now.
Seeing Lilith again had started a new fire in him. The indirect threat, the implication of what Lucifer would do once she told him about their deal… Alastor could simply not allow that. His cynical mind had already assumed the consequences wouldn’t be good for him; at best, the king would exile him away from the hotel, at worst, his soul would be destroyed. It was just a fact that Lucifer would feel betrayed —how could he not? And Alastor had made peace with that. His punishment, whatever it would be, was something he would face without fear. What he could not tolerate was to be taken from the chance of explaining, of ensuring the devil that he had not played him. Because he knew, now, that Lucifer may not survive that, as immortal as he was. So, if the deal was to be known, it would be under his own terms.
As his fingers passed through another page of the eldritch book of spells the king had gifted him in their fifth-month anniversary, his eyes locked on the scriptures at the top. The enchantment by itself was not useful —at least not for what he needed it— but, perhaps if he tried to fusion it with those other two, and then added that… It was not a solution, not really, and the chances of it going wrong were high, but little did he care about that now! Success was never reached without failing on the way!
Taking the book, the Radio Demon moved from the fireplace where he had been sitting to his desk, leaving afterwards to grab a ceremonial knife, several bowls and a few ingredients he would be needing. His coat was discarded in a chair, bowtie sent away and the sleeves of his shirt pulled up to avoid stains, while the front was protected by an apron. With a maniac smile, he threw himself to work.
Hours passed without him looking at the clock, discarded potions flooding the sides of the desk or even the floor at that point. His fingers moved more clumsily now, tired of the effort of preparing and mixing ingredients, and his clothes were dirty despite the protection he had thrown over. Nothing of that was strange, would anybody come and ask what he was doing; eldritch magic was messy and the other inhabitants of the hotel knew that well. The blood dripping from his mouth was different, though. At one point he had even stopped tasting the metal flavor of it as some drops fell down his throat, the feeling just another thing he had gotten used to. It didn’t matter.
He was close.
He could feel it.
The black, thick liquid inside the bowl in front of him flashed radioactive green when he added a few drops of his own blood, eyes opening wide at the reaction. With a mad smile, Alastor submerged the ceremonial knife in the mix, waiting until it was completely covered before removing it and set a flame underneath. The accelerant flared up immediately, the fire covering the blade and only stopping at the handle, protected by black leather but still burning the sinner’s skin.
“Let’s even the odds, hm?” he clacked, smiling at his shadow.
The creature stood tall behind him, urging him to walk to the mirror as the green sutures covering his mouth materialized for him to see. The tip of the knife caught behind the first string, tensing it as Alastor stretched it outwards. Parallel to his other attempts, the stitch tensed and pulled back, trying to keep his mouth shut. That was alright; pain was not new to him. He ignored the blood pouring from his lips, smile becoming wider as he saw the knife finally cutting through that first suture.
At his back, the shadow laughed maniacally at the success, even as red fell down his mouth as well. His gestures urged him to keep going, continue rebelling, and they didn’t stop until three more stitches came out, the knife finally giving up and breaking afterwards.
The result? A bizarre one, no doubt; blood covering his face and shirt, sliding all the way down to the floor were stains threatened with staying there permanently. And yet, Alastor ignored the pain, laughing in success while his minions cleaned up the mess there.
He knew the change wouldn’t be much, something he would have to test without holding back to see how far he had gotten. There was no second daga the Radio Demon could use, at least not one that held the same resistance to enchantments as the one he had used, and the ingredients for the spell had depleted as well. Yes, perhaps he would be able to collect the necessary items again, with time, to destroy more of those stitches, but first he had to ensure his efforts had not been in vain.
And he had the perfect subject to try it!
Stretching his hands, Alastor snapped his fingers to quickly change his clothes into a clean outfit and then used the other hand to command a soul under his contract, a familiar chain coming into view. A blink of an eye later, Husker materialized behind him, a frustrated expression on his face.
“The fuck is your problem, boss?” he complained. “We live in the same fucking building! You can just come down and ask me whatever the fuck is that you want!”
“Feisty, aren’t we, old pal?” the Radio Demon chuckled. “Did I interrupt a date with a certain someone?”
“Let me out of your gossip, would’ya? I was just finishing closing the bar” the cat demon groaned.
“Splendid! Then you have more than enough time to assist me, don’t you?”
“You already have me going from one place to another in this hotel, can’t you just bother another soul this time?”
Alastor’s smile tensed, but not in threat, just amusement. There were several reasons to keep Husker around, and entertainment was one of them! The cat never knew when to shut his mouth, which had led him to many problems and punishments. He simply never learnt! And that unpredictability was something the Radio Demon enjoyed more than the dull obedience of his other souls. Was there also a slice of friendship in their association? Hm… Perhaps! Although Husker himself may not agree to it.
“Oh, but this is something only you can do, my good man” the sinner clacked. “You should be excited! This may very well be the only time I let you make me bleed!”
Well, look at that! His last words surely caught the cat’s attention, didn’t they?
“The fuck are you talking about, boss?”
For the first time, Husker seemed to take in his surroundings, sending a wary look towards the demons cleaning the blood on the floor. Mm… Well, Alastor did admit the scenery was a little gruesome, simply shrugging.
“Nothing too hard to understand for your sharp mind, Husker, I’m sure” he said, taking a seat in the chair behind his desk, still facing the other sinner. “I want you to ask me.”
The confusion on the demon’s face was expected, Alastor assumed, but he didn’t have time to lose.
“Come on, old pal, you have been curious since you made the discovery, haven’t you? So, now I’m ordering you. Ask.”
Things, of course, would be way easier if his deal with Lilith didn’t overrule all of those he had done with other souls, something he had discovered rather recently. Meaning, he could not even lift the prohibition imposed on Husker, forbidding him from discussing his knowledge about the ownership of the Radio Demon’s soul. So, he could not order the cat-demon to ask him for anything specific, just as he couldn’t allow him to talk with anybody else about the topic. Wasn’t that fun?
Also incredibly annoying, if you asked Alastor, but one had to play with the cards he had been dealt! And, thankfully, Husker was a rather good gambler, so he caught up quickly.
“Who owns your soul?”
The words came out half-forced, and for a moment the other sinner flinched, as if expecting his owner to punish him. In his defense, Alastor had been… over-dramatic the last time a conversation on those lines had taken place.
Ignoring that, the Radio Demon intended to open his mouth and answer, but his body remained still, mouth close and teeth clenched. How wonderful!
“My, my… so direct!” he managed instead.
At that, Husker frowned, deep in thought for a moment before smiling knowingly. See? And that was why he kept him around!
“You made a dangerous deal short after landing in Hell, didn’t you?”
Good boy.
“More like a couple, I would say!”
“Not another Overlord, or it would’ve come out already” Husker continued with a low hum. “Demon royalty, then? He had to be someone powerful, but no other Sin would make a deal with a sinner in Lucifer’s territory.”
This time, when he tried to speak, Alastor felt the cords of his throat closing, but the blockage was something he could overpass by pushing through. He just had to ignore the pain and blood gurgling in his mouth.
“Please, old pal, I thought you knew better than taking assumptions on g—” a cough, red spit falling to the ground. “… Gender.”
Husker’s eyes opened wide, if in surprise at the scene or the small revelation, Alastor could not tell.
“A woman, then” he said just as he took a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to the sinner. “Or one of those souls without a gender, I guess. Fucking Hell, boss, how are you doing that?”
“Perseverance!” the Radio Demon responded with a manic laugh. “That is the key to all success, my boy!”
Ah, perhaps the limits of his deal were starting to affect him in more than one way, a heavy headache adding to the reaping feeling on his throat.
“Yeah, well, that perseverance seems like is gonna end up killing you” the cat-demon huffed. “Why don’t you just give me permission to talk about this shit so I can get some help playing ‘a hundred questions’?”
This time, Alastor didn’t bother with an answer, just lifting an eyebrow to the other man in annoyance.
“Fine, I guess that if you could do that, you’d already done it.”
“Such a clever boy, aren’t you, Husker?”
“And you’re a pain in my ass.”
“Always glad to be appreciated for my efforts!” Alastor chuckled as another gulp of blood mixed with a sharp pain to the side of his head. Surely an indication that his method worked! “Now, shall we continue?”
Husker didn’t answer straight away, looking him up and down as he crossed his arms over his chest and leant against the desk.
“You sure, boss? As I see it, we won’t get very far today, and even if I would guess the name, you won’t be able to confirm it and I can’t share it.”
“I’m well aware, yes! But worry not, my good friend, we don’t need to advance in this game today, just test its rules” he nodded, cleaning the last river of blood coming down his mouth before sitting straight on his chair once again. “Now, chin up! I’m sure a part of you is enjoying this, am I right?”
The other sinner rolled his eyes, but their relationship knew better than showing direct pity or sympathy. So, Husker just smirked instead.
“Seeing you in pain and bleeding? Yeah, sure. Let’s see how long until you tap out, old man.”
Alastor smiled back, teeth covered in blood.
“You always knew how to propose good challenges, my friend.”
Almost a week later, the advance Husker and him managed seemed infinitesimal to a frustrating point. At least if one was referring to get a decent answer. When applied to the limitations of the new arrangement of his deal… Well. Alastor had been able to draw a fragile line on the type of questions he could not answer at all, and the same for those he could still reply to if he was willing to push through some pain. Of course, eventually dear Husker and him had to give up, his throat too full with blood or his vocal cords barely capable of producing a sound anymore. Thankfully, sinners tended to recover fast from their injuries —unless they were angelical, of course!— and by the time they were among the other inhabitants of the hotel, Alastor was in perfect condition.
Overall, his experimentation had to be considered a success, even if the steps forwards had been rather short. Knowing his new limitations allowed him to prepare a scene —a moment— with Lucifer, something to lure him into asking the correct questions in the hopes of starting a very much needed conversation Alastor could not initiate.
Unfortunately, with their busy schedules finding time together during the last few days had been a difficult task, and it was not until that night that the Radio Demon was able to corner the king in the sitting area of their shared bedroom.
“Evening, my dear, how has your day been?”
“Mm… Tiring” the devil groaned, making grabby hands at him. “I need to cuddle a bit.”
Huffing, Alastor rolled his eyes as he removed his coat and boots before getting closer to the other man.
“Grab one of your ducks then, darling, you’ll surely not see me doing something as debasing as cuddling.”
“HA! Then, how do you call what you do every morning before getting up, eh? I’m sorry to tell you, oh scary Overlord, but you, sir, are a cuddler.”
A few months ago, the sinner would have flushed, grabbed the little king and threw him across the room in offense. Not that the motivation had disappeared, mind you, but he had better, ah, self-control now. Besides, they were in their room, double warded and completely soundproof. Whatever they did or said in there, no one else would know.
“The offense!” he sighed dramatically, wrapping his arms around Lucifer and pulling him up so he could be the one sitting on the chair, the devil on his lap. “That is clearly me making sure you stay in bed the necessary eight hours you need of rest, my dear, nothing else.”
Chuckling, the king passed his arms under the sinner’s, face burying in his chest as he let out a satisfied sigh. Contact had become just another part of their shared language, and it had taken Alastor some time to adjust to the idea of being comfortable with it. Not because it was forced onto him, but because he wanted it, brought him… calm. He didn’t like being touched but, when it came from Lucifer, he felt as if he was starving for it.
“Better, darling?”
His only answer was a content hum, and they stayed like that for several minutes before the silence was broken again.
“What about your day?” the king wondered. “Anything interesting?”
The two shirts full of blood he had sent to Niffty for cleaning under an order of secrecy would agree with that description, probably.
“Not really” he said instead, resting his chin over the angel’s head, one of his hands on the arm of the chair, the other softly resting on the lower back of the other man. “Had a bit of a conversation with Husker just shortly ago.”
“What about?” Lucifer questioned, voice half muted by his mouth resting almost over the sinner’s chest.
“Oh, nothing too important, just the matter of his soul.”
The king didn’t respond straight away, but he felt the change in his breathing.
“So, um, did he… did he want you to give it back?”
“My, no! He knows better than to ask for something that will never happen.”
At that, Lucifer stilled in his arms.
“You won’t let him go? Even if he wants to try redemption?”
“Well, that would mean releasing one of my most useful souls, wouldn’t it? Besides, old Husker is not interested in redemption! He doesn’t have any use for his own soul unless it is to gamble it, and we already know how that ends!”
Although they had had similar conversations before, they had never talked about any particular soul under Alastor’s hold, especially not one that also lived at the hotel. This time, of course, had been planned, hoping that the personal touch would push the king to ask the right questions.
“I don’t understand it” Lucifer said instead, “and I don’t want to argue today. Can we just stay like this? In silence?”
The petition was made in a soft voice, face still pressed against his chest. It may have looked childish, but the sinner acknowledged it for what it was; a peace offering. This had been a total miscalculation on Alastor’s part.
A couple of months ago, they had argued. Not a misunderstanding. Not some bickering. A real argument, with real insults, angry words and a threat of breaking what they had built during the last year. And, even if it was evident they could not agree on everything —discussions happened from time to time—, that was the first time they contemplated the possibility of being too different, of not be able to understand the other’s point of view enough to live with it.
Soul-dealing, apparently, was another sour topic. Which made things more complicated for Alastor in several aspects. First, because it might mean Lucifer’s reaction to the discovery of his deal with Lilith may be even worse than expected, and he had already assumed the worst! And then, there was the debate of how far was he willing to go in order to let the king know the truth. Was he able to sacrifice their own relationship for it? Could he start another argument that would break them just to have him asking the right questions? Would they be able to go back from it?
The truth was, they might very well have a similar opinion when referring to soul-dealing, so maybe an argument was not necessary. Perhaps he could lead the devil on, pushing him just enough until Alastor was able to give the answers that would make him think something was going on. Yes, that was a possibility.
But Lucifer was tired, had asked him to stop, and he wouldn’t be forcing the other man into anything.
It is alright, he told himself, there is time.
Yes. Lilith had not given any sign of movement, so they had no reason to worry straight away. He could wait another day. Maybe even a few more, while he kept trying with Husker to push the new limitations of his silence; make it easier for when the moment of truth came with Lucifer. Alastor would tell him about his soul and who owned it, he was sure of that.
Just…
Another day.
That night, the Radio Demon simply hummed softly at the king’s petition, wrapping both his arms around the smaller body and letting Lucifer fall asleep against him.