The Riddle Of Magic

Chapter 59: Season of Solutions

It took every scrap of Alastor's will to not rush for the parlor when Lucifer Morningstar departed on his own, but his shadow was wary at moving too much around the fallen seraphim. The Radio Demon held his ground as the king walked back toward the lobby, keeping his tailored grin carefully in place, though his thoughts were practically blaring with alarm as he remembered his dream, and the sinister words that marked its ending.

Why was he alone?

"She's not seeing you out?" the deer demon asked, watching every fraction of movement as their unwelcome visitor approached. He didn't smell blood, and he didn't sense any swellings of magic either, and that was the only reason he hadn't already flown to combat the shorter figure.

From the distance, he spied a dismissive scowl on the angel's flat face, though the expression shifted to his more bored expression as Lucifer neared. The blonde passed him without comment, heading toward the door, evidently meaning to ignore him.

The spectre sharing his thoughts would have preferred that. but the Radio Demon's pride would not allow it, not after what the bastard had put them both through. "I know it was a dream, so there's no telling which of those words were truly yours," he called after the King as he reached the door. "But you will hear this vow, seraph - I will not let you trouble her dreams again! Mark my words, I will have her free of you," he growled, static leaking into his voice.

From his peripheral vision the others were gaping at him in various levels of surprise and horror, but the deer demon didn't take his eyes off of Lucifer Morningstar. He could feel the terror of his shadow threatening to swallow his senses, and braced himself against the weight of its fear. This was as much of a gamble as he'd made since the grave, but he would not abide that treatment of his partner, real or imagined.

The King of Hell's porcelain features were unfazed as he glanced back at him. "Then you have work to do. For both your sakes." He pulled the door open and closed it behind him in a single, fluid motion, the bastard not giving him a single moment's more regard.

If Alastor had been holding anything, it would have crumbled into dust. His claws sank into his palm and he felt a wetness in his grip, and smelled iron.

"Damn," Husk muttered, looking between him and the door. "Did you just challenge the King of Hell?"

The Radio Demon let his antlers branch, letting the relieved pressure cool him down. "I didn't make a challenge, I answered it."

"Great," the cat demon rolled his eyes, downing a shot of scotch. "More trouble."

"I'll say. He looked pissed," Vaggie noted. "What happened?"

He didn't reply to the moth demoness, Phasing straight down the hall to the parlor and pushing the door gently open. "Darling?" he called softly.

There was no verbal response, but his keen cervid hearing picked up soft weeping, and he pushed his way slowly into the room. Charlie was curled up on the furthest couch, and he went to her at once, a flash of panic striking him at the thought of her in pain.

"Are you alright? What's wrong?"

His partner was crying too hard to respond to him, and he sat next to her, putting his arm around her shoulders and letting her cry. She curled against him, shuddering through her tears, and he rubbed her back to try to soothe her. Eventually whatever grief had come over her passed enough for her to regain coherence. "I'm sorry, Al," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

"Whatever for, dearest?" He leaned back in the seat, pulling her to rest against him.

"This is all such a waste of time!" she hiccoughed.