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Lucifer looked pathetic. That was his first thought.
His sweat trickled a damp stream down his temples, and a golden blush grew fainter by the minute. Thick gold splashed his shoulders and his ribs. His back was in a permanent arch, held into place by sparking wires that Alastor knew uncomforably well. Vox’s electricity had a staticky buzz, just strong enough to be dizzying. Distracting.
“Oh my, what do we have here, hm?” Alastor sing-songed, ending with a pleased hum. He strode forward and tapped the angelic glass twice, ignoring the sharp burn that licked up his hand.
“Shouldn’t you be tied to a chair?” The king of hell spat, with only half the amount of vitriol Alastor expected.
He raised an eyebrow. Their brief silence meant faint echoes of screams echoed against the walls of the weapon, ricocheting. If he strained one ear, Alastor could hear Lucifer’s exhausted panting coming from his parted mouth, or maybe his nonexistent nose. He wasn’t sure.
“Doing okay, sire?” he asked, glancing down at his sharpened nails. “You sound a little… exhausted, shall we say?”
Lucifer’s annoyed huff turned into a wheeze. It took him a beat to recover. “Your eyes do work. Congrats, bellhop.”
Their eyes locked. Alastor wondered if Lucifer could sense his own exhaustion.
He had spent the last couple of days on a few hours of precious sleep, awaking with a sinking feeling of dread that something could have been done to him in his sleep. He woke the first time to the taste of copper, belatedly realizing his cheek had been sliced while he snoozed away, perfectly unaware. Somehow, he awoke the second time in a different shirt. The third and final time, he jerked awake when a sweet-tasting pink smoke filled his lungs. Alastor wasn’t grateful, but the fact that Vox tried to drug him with an aphrodisiac just to annoy him and nothing more was overwhelmingly relieving.
Vox always did like to push the envelope, but not with Alastor. He respected him too much to stoop to that petty level. Reflecting Alastor’s mindgames back at him, though? A different story.
“Such a pickle you got yourself into! Meanwhile, I got myself out of quite a few tricky situations today myself,” he said and placed a hand over his chest.
Rosie had not perfectly healed him, but it was close enough. He was as free as he wanted to be, even with their new deal that leaned far more into Alastor’s corner than Rosie’s. Protecting Charlie and aiding the hotel? Child’s play. Nothing compared to the string of humiliating and dreadfully boring tasks Rosie had him do. He swore Rosie sent him on half-assed quests just to find his snapping point. But now? Oh, now? He had all the power he needed, but he was nothing but greedy.
“What do you want?” Lucifer said, seething.
Alastor could almost take pity on the king’s sorry state. “Does anyone know you’re here?”
“Vaggie stopped by.”
“When?”
Luficer looked away. “A while ago. Maybe an hour ago.”
A laugh torn out of his throat. “And you haven’t been rescued yet? Oh, sire. I don’t think anyone is coming to save you.”
Something flashed across his face, but as quick as a snap, it vanished. “I said, What do you want?”
He grinned, his smile ripping as high as his face physically allowed him. “To save you, of course!”
Lucifer jerked back as if he’d been slapped. “What?”
“Everyone else is so busy, so I figured I’d come to your rescue instead. Why, they’re planning to explode this weapon with you in it! I’d say we only have a couple of minutes before Vox decides to implode the entirety of hell. We wouldn’t want that, right?”
“I can’t stop him. You know that,” Lucifer said, defeated.
Alastor waved a dismissive hand. “Yes, yes. I know all about your eternal punishment. Heaven is just as wicked as we are with their divine intervention. But no, you wouldn’t need to lay a hand on a sinner.”
“Huh? Ugh, just spit it out already!” Lucifer shouted. His eyes glazed over, thick with exhaustion, mouth twisted into a borderline snarl.
“Let’s make a deal, Lucifer.”
That snapped him out of his stupor. “Oh, I’m not falling for that—”
“You have about two minutes to escape your angelic cage, and then what? Stop Vox without touching him? Beg the other overlords to stop him? Even beg your daughter to throw away her own redemption to stop a suicidal maniac?” His grin widened.
The time ticked away, spiraling them closer to an end.
“I’m listening,” the words were uttered so lowly, they might as well have been mouthed.
“You cannot touch sinners, sire, but I can. Grant me a portion of your power, and I can break you out of here and defeat Vox.”
“You think you can kill Vox?”
He frowned. “I didn’t say that. I’d defeat him, not kill him.”
Lucifer stared at him. “Wait, do you actually care—”
“Charlie would be oh so mad if her beloved facilities manager ended someone's life, wouldn’t she? No matter how dire the situation was?”
Lucifer did not need to know that, despite everything, something deep within him faltered at the idea of killing Vox. Maybe it was knowing he was practically harmless once his ego was wrangled in— nothing more than a common pest of hell. Or maybe it was the string of memories that faded like old photographs, but still unforgotten. It all boiled down to Alastor having a more boring existence if Vox was wiped clean, renewed after regenerating with no memories of his previous afterlife. There was too much potential left to disintegrate him into burning ashes, no matter how tempting it was to squash the egotistical little bug.
“Okay, so you want power to defeat Vox. That’s it?”
Alastor tapped the glass, impatient. “Why stop there, Your Majesty? I’m sure there will come a day soon when another sinner will need to be reprimanded. Wouldn’t you like the solution to your problems to always be at your fingertips?”
Lucifer snorted. “What, you wanna be my executioner?” he asked with a disbelieving laugh.
“See, you get it!”
“Oh my— okay, no. That’s just— no, no, no, no. No way in hell am I giving you all that power to do what you want with!” He shook his head, and then immediately regretted the action as blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth. Alastor couldn’t tell what would happen first: Lucifer passing out or the weapon exploding.
“I’ll hurt anyone you wish. Kill anyone you wish, within reason.”
“Within reason?”
“Can’t have you killing all my souls and closest allies, of course! Also, may I remind you of our time limit?”
Lucifer groaned. “You’re the worst.”
“We are in hell, my dear. Do you need the reminder?”
“You’ll come to my aid no matter what? Even if it’s at a moment’s notice?” Lucifer asked. “And anyone can be a target?”
“Within reason,” Alastor stressed, a growl rising. “I will not wait at your side like a dog, and everything will be negotiable. I, of course, have many enemies and do not mind attacking most sinners myself, but even I have my limits. The exceptions will be limited, I promise you. Most, such as harming the souls I own, also include the main hotel staff and guests. I can’t have Charlie mad at me, now can I?” He smiled harder.
“Worst case scenario,” Alastor continued, “is that we are at a permanent standstill and can’t negotiate. The deal can be called off any time you’d like. But, the best case scenario, sire?” He leaned in, nearly pressing his nose against the glass. “You will no longer be powerless. You’ll have me at your beck and call to do your bidding, with only a few minor stipulations. Anyone who wrongs you will face their punishment. Wouldn’t that be swell?”
Lucifer’s eyes drifted shut. Alastor snapped his fingers, jerking the king awake. “Woah, okay, time’s running out, huh?” He laughed, strained. “You know, you could have easily forced my hand into an unreasonable deal. Not like I’m in much of a position to say no, right?” Lucifer said, because he had no sense of self-preservation to keep these thoughts to himself.
“So, is that a deal?”
“As long as you can get me out of here first.”
Oh, that was easy. His shadows flung onto the angelic cage, encasing it until Lucifer was engulfed in inky darkness. And then the glass shattered. It dropped into hundreds of tiny, dangerous shards until it disintegrated into nothing but dust. Lucifer groaned as he twisted his shoulders, his aching bones letting out an unholy cracking sound.
“Okay, that hurt. Jeez, no respect for royalty,” Lucifer muttered, floating in his own world until the ground began to tremble.
“Now or never, Your Majesty,” Alastor said, holding out his hand and twitching his fingers.
“I hope I won’t regret this.”
“Funny, I was just hoping the same thing.”
When their hands met, they both immediately stumbled. The pressure of their deal could have flattened a street if they let it. Instead, neon green streaks of light shimmered with golden stars, encircling them. Alastor didn’t have to break them out— the power of their agreement did it for him, puncturing a rather large hole in the side of Vox’s weapon.
Everyone stopped what they were doing— freezing as the shimmering stars scattered across the battlefield, landing on Vox’s obnoxious dinner table and on the top of sinner’s heads. They clung to Alastor’s shoulders, down his arms, and trickled down his fingertips. Completely harmless, other than the quiet, almost ticklish buzz against his skin.
The duo was in the process of making their own weapon, but boy, was it beautiful. Even Alastor could admire such beauty, heavenly or not.
He should have seen Lucifer’s collapse coming, but it still caught him off guard. Before Alastor could rip his hand back, Lucifer sluggishly fell to his knees, eyes drooping shut. Before he could surrender to sleep, Alastor leaned down and patted the side of his cheek, extra aware of his claws.
“You need to give me an order, sire. Then you can rest.”
Lucifer glanced up at him, craning his neck so far up it almost looked painful. From this angle, his dark circles and pale cheeks contrasted against his paint-like blush. It looked extra comical, especially considering his blood ran golden, not sinner-red. Even the snake wrapped his hat looked limp and depressed, barely hanging on for dear life. Really, the king needed to clean up his image.
Lucifer smiled, slanted and half-hearted. “Oh yeah. Executioner now. Cool.” He blinked hard, momentarily freeing his vision. “Then I command you to defeat Vox and anyone who gets your way. Only resort to killing when absolutely necessary. That is my order.”
The golden chain around his neck simmered, alive with the new order. Unlike Rosie’s deal, it didn’t suffocate him. Like the golden stars around them, which were slowly fading out of existence, the golden metal just hummed against his skin. A gentle reminder.
Alastor gathered up Lucifer’s half-conscious body in his arms and spotted just the couple he was looking for down below. Charlie and Vaggie both gasped as he landed gracefully in front of them, their tiny ruler in his arms. Charlie rushed forward first, already babbling apologies and nudging her father’s bloody cheek. Vaggie glanced at Lucifer for merely a moment before focusing on Alastor’s giddy expression.
“What are you doing? Did you make a deal with Lucifer?”
Alastor nodded and tugged his staff into existence. He could already feel Lucifer’s power running through it, almost overwhelmingly so. When his hand wrapped around the familiar weight, the power shot up his arms.
“Well, of course! Your father here simply needed some help, and I offered my assistance for the tiniest fee. I’m sure we can all talk about this like one big happy family later. But for now…” he trailed, and peered down at Lucifer. Already asleep. A shame. He was going to miss the show.
“Your wish is my command, Your Majesty.”