The Riddle Of Magic

Chapter 15: Transfer

Of all the sins the Radio Demon possessed, his pride was probably the greatest.

Sloth wasn't really an issue - he was a rather hard worker, all things considered. He had a job, and oversaw his territory, and made his deals - which certainly was a far greater effort than just stalking and killing his prey.

Alastor didn't feel particularly greedy or envious of others. He had his reputation and assets, and though there were things he might wish were different in his afterlife, his existence was a rather comfortable one, for being in Hell.

Wrath wasn't that much of a vice. He would absolutely annihilate those who pushed him past the limits of his tolerance, but he had learned patience over the decades and favored self-control to avoid pushing himself into unwinnable scenarios.

Gluttony was the heart of his magic. Nox Magia relied on the thrumming essence of the soul as a catalyst, and he had consumed far more glasses of dark than he truly needed for the sake of pure survival. But this was a harsh world, and he was one to be prepared with every measure of his strength.

Lust... well, he didn't deal in physical pleasures. He had little interest in being vulnerable, though he felt the pull of carnal want on the odd occasion, which he chalked up toward an inherited animal instinct.

And, of course, to his increasing frustration, it twinged most often toward the demoness at his left.

She was reviewing his grimoire, pale fingers cradling the book with utmost care. Her rose-red eyes flicked across the text, taking in the knowledge he'd inscribed.

And it was that kind of image that he found the most striking, which set a rolling warmth through his veins.

Alastor the Radio Demon was not a humble individual, and he prided himself on his knowledge most of all. And the fact that the control over this situation was his, that their lessons were to the march of his tune... well, that went further in the measure of his interest than sex ever could.

Which was why it was annoying that his shadow was pressing him on the subject again.

They'd been through a rather trying experience, to be certain. Both he and the princess had very nearly been killed. Husker and Niffty had been killed, but fortunately for the pair they were able to respawn.

But for whatever reason the spectre was utterly convinced that his dealings with the princess were a disguise for another want. That he would eventually surrender to her, as his blue-hued doppelganger had.

This game was a joke. It was only making things worse, not better.

But he couldn't exactly stop it now. Because what would stopping mean, other than that he truly was controlled by the princess? That what he did, or didn't do, was for her sake above his own?

It would technically prove his shadow right, and Alastor wasn't certain that he would be able to hold it in check if it did perceive her to be a threat and acted on its fears.

The spectres were largely fearful of the princess. Her flames were a contradiction to themselves, but they followed his lead along with his shadow, drawn by the power of Nox Magia.

His deal with the demoness kept the peace, for now. His tentative control over the hotel, along with her learning their magic, seemed to make the spirits not really certain how to deal with the gentle blonde, who spoke to them so casually, even though she should have been fearful, should have cringed away and driven them from her presence.

He could understand the shadows' sentiment.

***

"Did this one give you trouble, Al?"