Crimson Hues (Alastor x Angel of Death!Reader)

Chapter Ten: Cold as Ice

Your POV:

The angels, all tense with apprehension, watched you pace from one end of the craft to the other. No one dared utter any apology or words of consolation. It was a rare and unwelcome sight to see the Angel of Death so livid. The last time they'd seen you this furious was... well, never. And it settled a dark tense atmosphere over the room, urging everyone else to keep their heads bowed in low respect.

Your eyes sharply glanced up at the gold rimmed Roman numeral clock on the wall. "It's been thirty minutes."

The captain, leader of the charge, seemed to jolt to life at this. "Miss Y/n, please, five more minutes! They were simply following orders."

You shot him a pointed look, and he withered back into submission under the intensity of your stare. "I said I would claim the souls of anyone who didn't return in thirty minutes. Am I known for going back on my word, Captain?"

He shook his head wearily and you continued. "Every last one of you are perfectly aware that if I were to appeal an order, I would personally inform you. Have I not made that clear in the past? And yet you proceeded to take orders, not from any person of higher authority, but from the conductor..."

Ethan was revered and in a high position of power all his own, being the sole leader of the heavenly choirs and orchestra. A powerful archangel, true, but his command did not proceed your own.

Turning to address the extermination team, you saw that no one had anything to say on this. Rather, they seemed to curl with shame. You examined them harshly another moment, eyes scouring the room for any hint of defiance or reluctance.

There was none...

Straightening up, you met the Captain's gaze. "Depart. I will approach the conductor on this matter myself."

"But-"

Once again being shot with a cold and hard iron stare, the Captain cleared his throat and nodded, shuffling across deck to the pilot and preparing for departure. You exit the aircraft, and outstretched your hand in front of you. A scythe of strong metal alloy with a fitted handle materialized, the ebony blade long and curved downwards with a jagged edge nearing the pole. It was a beautiful work of art, slick and swift as justice should be...

Wind rushed against the ground and whipped tassels of your hair wildly as the angels' ship rose into the skies and made haste for the gates of Hell. You watched it disappear, before setting your sights for the few that didn't make it. They'd be hiding at this point, no doubt, but you'd find them. Death came for everyone eventually... even angels.

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Alastor's POV:

Alastor awoke to the sound of screaming in the middle of the night; nothing out of the ordinary, given the desolate pit of crime and murder he resided in. But he felt the urge to investigate anyway. Perhaps, he reasoned, a little investigation would distract him from the revelations he'd had the night before.

He still wasn't sure how to feel about it all. Memories of that sweet girl climbing on monkey bars and trying to understand how the world was unjust kept surfacing, and he was trying so hard to match that to the steadfast woman he saw now. Although, harsh as it sounded, he was grateful for this. Seeing her threaten someone with the authority and terror of a predator stalking its prey made him feel slightly less embarrassed that she was seeing him for who he truly was.

He swung his overcoat on and when downstairs; the hotel was dark and eerily silent. Not in the way that people were all sleeping, he felt, but in a way as though they were apprehensively waiting something out. Alastor noted the disturbed atmosphere a little longer before he continued out the door. No doubt there would be some people still out this late, recovering from the shock of another extermination with excessive drinking, drugs, and unsavory actions.

At least, he thought so...

The Radio Demon glanced around, finding that all the shops, pubs, stands, and other such places had been closed down. They were unoccupied, or otherwise quiet. This, in the pits of Hell, was a very unusual and somewhat disconcerting thing. His ears twitched, trying to pick up where the scream had come from; but it was short and abrupt. Ended as soon as it began.

Then, there was another. Shattering the glass-like silence with terror and followed by pleas of 'I'm not ready'. Alastor quickly followed it down Emmertson Street and turned the corner into an alleyway.

...just in time to see Y/n slice an angel in two with a scythe.

There was no blood. No gore. No mess. The moment the blade came in contact with living matter, the angel evaporated into smoke, which curled and twisted against the wind of the slash. This smoke was golden, a lovely shade. It all seemed to slowly collect together, into one shimmering ball of condensed smoke. Y/n took it delicately in her hands, murmuring what appeared to be words of comfort, and then slid the soul into her satchel.

She turned around. Alastor stiffened blankly as he registered this fact, and their eyes met. There was a tense and awkward silence, before he finally cleared his throat.

"Good evening, my dear! I was simply out for a late night stroll." He fibbed, and subconsciously took a step back away from the alley.

Y/n offered a somewhat mysterious smile in return, and he noted her eyes seemed to subtly glow. "Lovely night for a walk."

She left the alley, as if she hadn't just claimed someone's soul a minute prior. He nodded in agreement, wrapping his head around what he'd just seen. Hearing her make the threat was one thing, but watching her actually carry it out just... didn't feel right. He hid his perplexed discomfort, however, and offered an arm.

"Then perhaps while we're both out, it would be a good idea to inform me of everything that's happened since I last saw you?" He prodded, albeit somewhat hesitantly. He'd never felt the need to exercise caution around anyone before, and never in his wildest dreams thought it would be her.

He could suddenly see the shadow of something dark hidden in her gaze, something unwilling, and he hastily added. "Only if you'd like, darling. I won't force you."

Her expression lightened a bit, and he watched the contemplation stir in her eyes before she accepted the offered arm. "Alright..."
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Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who's supported me through this story but I do have a question. Should I make a new cover for this book? I feel like the art I have up doesn't quite fit. I may just ask another artist if I can use theirs/commission them for my cover and credit them in the description. Thoughts?