cupid clearly hates me.

[ 22 ]

Your mind was still toiling over everything that had happened at the hotel.

The way Alastor had changed... it wasn't like him. The Alastor that you knew was sweet, charming—even occasionally overbearing—but he was never the overprotective, seething nonsense he had become when Vaggie accused him of using you.

And that was a whole other thing to think about: Vaggie had been in hell for a whole lot longer than you had, so did that mean she knew Alastor better than you? Could it be totally reasonable that she thinks he's planning something, and you're nothing but a pawn in his personal game of chess?

But then again, if that last part was correct, then what would Alastor's ideal end game be? Why would you, of all demons, be a part of it?

You squeezed your eyes shut and combed your fingers through your wet hair. The warm water flowed over your skin like a blanket, keeping you safe. Doing exactly what Alastor said he would do when you found out that Lucifer was going to come for you and all of the other Purebloods in hell.

The thought of Satan himself coming for you felt like a drill through your skull.

You were literally being hunted down. By Lucifer.

And it wasn't even your fault.

☆

You hadn't said a single word to Alastor at all since the two of you got back to his hidden cabin (more like hidden mansion).

After changing into the casual set of clothes that Alastor had given you a few days ago—the olive hoodie and leggings—you walked downstairs with quiet steps. The wooden steps felt sticky under your bare feet, and it was a small sensation that you found yourself savoring.

The beautiful, yet faint ring of piano keys could be heard as you ambled into the living room. You knew then exactly where you would see him: sitting at his piano, lean fingers gracefully dancing along the ivories, making the gorgeous song play.

And there he was, sure as the sun was bright. His back was arched to better allow his arms to reach multiple keys at once, but his expression was unreadable. The series of keys he was playing sounded like the beginning of a song, simple and repetitive, but allowing the listener to anticipate.

"There you are, my love," he greeted you without looking up from his still dancing fingers. Despite everything, all you wanted to do was sit down on that bench beside him, watch his fingers move, and let the music float through your body. "How are you feeling? Did the shower help?"

"A little bit. I'm fine now." Yeah, hit him with the good ol' fine.

"I'd like to play a song," Alastor continued. "It's my second favorite, aside from Bohemian Rhapsody. Feel free to listen, if you would like."

"I would like to," you said quietly. It seemed like you were talking to yourself—Alastor was so focused on the piano and the music he was making.

(Start the song at the beginning, if you want to listen while reading. The video is up above.)

Just then, Alastor looked up at you, and his face suddenly became readable. As odd and cliché as it was, you could see the love in his eyes and in his smile. His features were relaxed, and he closed his eyes, continuing the song's introduction.

Then, not to your surprise, he began to sing.

"Here's the church, and here's the steeple..." His fingers moved with passion. "You open it up and see all the bad people, doing bad, bad things... to each other."