When the two women had arrived back at the hotel, arms draped lovingly around each other and leading the other up to their shared room, Alastor was still sitting on the floor, his eyes staring unblinkingly at the door that Charlie had left through hours ago.
His mind was calculating, sifting through all the information he had gathered thus far on Hell's heiress.
He thought back to those puzzling looks she had given him twice now. Maybe even more than that.
The first time, it had been when he had cooked jambalaya for everyone as a way to welcome him, Niffty, and Husker to his latest gambit. He'd invaded her personal space, standing erectly so close to her seat and leaning in even closer to further tower over her. His face had been a mere few inches above hers, all to convey his authority over the situation.
She'd been staring deeply into his eyes. Why? Trying to find a nonexistent remaining shred of humanity? A portal to his soul and deepest, purest thoughts?
No… he'd seen that look before. He shut his eyes forcefully and tried to remember the bygone memory. It had been back before he had become a resident of Hell.
He hardly ever visited those irksome memories from when he was living, and it was greatly straining to try and do so now. But he needed to know. It was a puzzling piece of information that possibly held the key to some exquisite insights and new ploys.
He racked his brain for the right memory. No longer was he the crimson overlord of Hell he'd grown comfortable being, but instead a simple man with choppy auburn hair, dressed in a simple, sleeveless hickory vest over a white dress shirt and matching hickory trousers. A pair of wide, narrow glass spectacles were perched on his pointed nose.
Hmm… now where have I seen that look before.
He thought back to his days when he strolled the cobbled streets of New Orleans, looking for new, unsuspecting victims to slice and dice the quiet, dull nights away.
That look… he'd seen it shared between newly weds and young lovebirds. He'd seen it on a multitude of womens' faces when they'd foolishly flirted with him. He'd seen it when someone had gazed, their eyes full of awe and yearning, at the object of their affections.
Ah yes. Desire.
Why hadn't he realized sooner?
Carefully locking the human memories away deep within the recesses of his mind, Alastor blinked awake from his thoughts. He stared at the ebony door, then turned his gaze to the hand which had last touched her.
He licked where his gloved fingers had made contact with Charlie, his long tongue trailing against the smooth fabric. He tasted her fingers. Her bare, rosy cheek. His eyes closed in wicked abandonment.
Oh, Charlie, you alluring, absolutely depraved soul. A murderous, treacherous deal maker waltzes into your life, and you feel, of all things, a sexual attraction to him?
A deep, rumbling laughter filled his gut. It was just so astounding. Purely unfathomable.
You're incurable. A hopeless creature, yet so full of naive hope and dreams. Oh, what am I going to do with you, my sweet? You make this so amusing for me.
He basked in the pure pleasure brought on by such wicked thoughts.
Oh, he needed more of this. When would he have another chance like this? Never. Since his arrival in Hell and soon-after murderous frenzy, not a single demon had had the audacity to want him in such a manner! No, they were smarter than that. They knew who he was - what he was. And with no laws nor punishment, he no longer needed to hide his cruel, sadist side. He horrified most of them, shaping them into spineless cowards that were oft keen enough to stay out of his way. The only looks of desire aimed at him had been false contortions in a foolhardy ploy for power and his downfall.
But hers was genuine. He realized with sudden clarity how unique she was.
And with that realization came another, equally powerful understanding.
He couldn't break her yet.
He needed to see how far he could push her. Like an unpliable, thick branch that he slowly bowed further and further. At first, only small splinterings surfaced, maybe a few cracks. He would be meticulous and slow, creaking the branch further and further into an unobtainable shape. Each moment he would savour thoroughly until that resonant, final snap.
So the ever-perplexing princess fancied him… what a delectable notion. He'd prolong their game. After all, there was no fun in an immediate victory. No, he'd even handicap himself.
He'd make her yield to him willingly.
Warm, red sunbeams bathed the hotel in morning light through its many narrow windows, stained glass pieces, and glass balcony doors.
An hour before the scheduled communal breakfast, Charlie chipperly made her way down from the top floor to the second floor's shared kitchen. She was humming a light tune and tapping her hand against her side to its beat. As was typical, the ever-upbeat demoness wore a bright, compelling smile that reached her eyes. It'd take a real callous, heartless demon to see her smile and not involuntarily share in her joy.
Unfortunately for her, Hell was full of callous, heartless demons.
She reached the kitchen and nearly did a double-take.
Standing in the middle of the kitchen was a tall figure that resembled the hotel's resident overlord and yet didn't. His red-and-black hair was neatly tied up in a short knot behind him. His trademark pinstripe tailcoat was nowhere to be seen. Instead, he wore a simple red dress shirt that matched the sheen of his hair. The sleeves were crisply rolled up to the crease right above his elbows. Draped over his shirt and pants was a long, deep-merlot apron. In fine print, it read in black lettering "Don't kiss the cook."
He was stationed over the stove, his left hand rhythmically jouncing a wide pan over an open, low flame. Curdling yellow-white chunks of eggs simmered within. He expertly tossed them against the heat, careful not to overcook them.
"Ah, Charlie! Bonjour ma fleur. Glad you could make it. I could use an extra hand. Please, come here darling," he beckoned. He finished the current set of eggs, sprinkling light fresh garnishes over them and shutting off the stove heat, before heaping them into a covered hotplate to keep warm.
"Alastor?" she asked quizzically, taking in his altered appearance and unexpected presence in the kitchen. "Why are you… You don't need to cook anything! I promised I would take care of all of it."
"Nonsense my dear, I insist! Cooking is one of my favorite pastimes, after all." His voice was warm but heavily filtered by his radio. A swingtime tune she hadn't noticed before was playing softly, emanating somewhere from within him.
"Oh," she smiled warmly at him. "Well, if you say so! I'm always happy for more helpers. Cooking for thirty demons is quite the handful I've gotten myself into." She giggled at her predicament and felt truly touched by his unprompted help.
"I can see by the ingredients in the fridge that you were planning quite the feast for this morning! Three dozen eggs, two sizable packets of bacon, several links of sausage, fresh bread of three different varieties, yogurt, a handful of cereals. Why, you even thought to include fruit! There's strawberries, cantaloupe, grapes, and more in there. Truly a balanced, hearty meal to start the day with!"
She blushed. Her hand went to a lock of her blonde hair as she twirled it absentmindedly. "Yeah, I might have gotten a little carried away at the store… I just wanted to make sure there was something for everybody. I don't know everyone's preferences yet."
"Well, just you let me handle anything that needs to be cooked, dear. I pride myself on my cooking abilities. The meats, the eggs, I'll handle it all! How about you start on cutting the fruit into delicate little pieces."
Charlie grabbed the fruit from the fridge. "Can do!" she beamed back.
Alastor gazed hungrily at her as she balanced the sharp knife between her fingers. In a smooth motion, she sliced the cantaloupe in half, its juices dripping over the wooden cutting board.
He forced his attention back to his current pan full of crisp bacon.
With ten minutes till ten, Charlie was dismayed that no residents had joined them in the kitchen or adjoining dining room.
I hope we didn't prepare all this food for nothing. Please, come out. I won't bite, I promise! I just want to get to know each of you better.
Her eyes drooped. Alastor deftly noticed her somber look.
"Why the long face, darling? I'm sure they'll show up. No one can resist such enticing flavors! Why, the aroma must be nearly reaching their doors by now. I'm sure it will have them coming down in just a moment."
He glanced around the kitchen, his eyes narrow.
"Charlie, I'm not seeing any ice for our guests. Could you be a dear and grab a couple cupfuls from the walk-in freezer?"
When she had taken his bait and left, he summoned his inner demon to reside within his shadow. The black silhouette morphed, growing sinister and glowing a slight maroon hue.
"My friend," Alastor greeted in a low, commanding tone, "I think our guests need a firm reminder. Do give them a swift kick out of bed for me, won't you?"
The shadow smirked. Its wispy tongue danced on its face. It detached from its master and headed off to obey his bidding.
Within fifteen minutes, all but one resident of the hotel had been accounted for and were now pigging over the food. Demons piled plates high with a ranging assortment from the piping hot, mouthwatering breakfast buffet. Charlie sat between two new faces, cheerily chatting away with them.
At half past ten, the last resident arrived. Unlike the others, she had received no threatening invitation from Alastor. Rather, she'd been ignored entirely.
She'd come down for a solitary breakfast, unaware of the communal breakfast event being put on by Charlie and Alastor. She was shocked to see the crowded scene before her lone eye.
"So glad you could eventually join us, Miss Vagatha. Better late than never as they say, am I right?" Alastor prodded with an underhanded sneer, purposely inciting the moth-demoness.
Vaggie stared daggers at him, a low growl emerging from deep within her throat. Her magenta ribbon turned sharp, its threatening points contrasting against her long silver hair.
With great effort, she forced the feelings aside and strode over to Charlie, disregarding the crimson menace that still blighted the hotel.
"Hey hun, what's all this?" she gestured to Charlie.
"Oh Vaggie! Good morning! Ah - I forgot to tell you. I'm so sorry!" Charlie bit her lip, guilty from her mistake. It had been so emotional between them the past day that it had totally slipped her mind to inform Vaggie of the weekly events she'd planned. "I'm hosting events for the hotel now that we have more guests than just Angel. Today's Communal Breakfast Day, and tomorrow is Group Therapy Tuesday. Wednesday through Friday, I'm gonna meet with each resident one-on-one to make a game plan for redemption tailored to them personally!" Her voice was lit with excitement. Everything was going so well!
Watching Vaggie continue to eye the scene around them, Charlie tacked on, "Please, help yourself to the food! Alastor helped me make it this morning, wasn't that sweet of him?"
Vaggie glanced over the new faces around the dining table suspiciously before heeding her girlfriend's suggestion. She chose to ignore her last statement, knowing it would only leave her feeling bitter and cause her to carelessly say something foolish.
The silver-haired woman sat down next to Charlie in the recently-emptied seat and began eating. Her ears paid acute attention to the conversations around her, but nothing seemed off.
Vaggie felt her suspicions slipping. Maybe these demons were here to be redeemed. Bad manners and cursing aside, she hadn't noticed any unbefitting behavior from any of them.
The silver-haired demoness began to doubt herself and her so-called realism. It seemed these demons really were trying to turn over a new leaf. Maybe Hell was actually changing like Charlie had hoped.
But a quick look of fear from one of the new demons told her otherwise. Her suspicions hardened. After breakfast, she'd pursue this demon and get some answers. She wouldn't have anyone hurt Charlie or make ill of her good-intentions.
When the pesky chihuahua had finally left, Alastor slipped into the seat beside his prey.
"Is the food to your liking?" he asked rhetorically, smug that she was wholeheartedly digging in.
"Mhm!" she murmured through stuffed, closed lips, still chewing away.
"Heavens, Al, this food is amazing! You should really open your own restaurant. I bet it'd be really popular!"
"What a delightful idea, Charlie. Perhaps I'll try that in another decade or two. Why, anything's on the table with an eternity in Hell!" he chortled.
"But I have more pressing matters to attend to. Such as collecting payments from my dealings," the radio accompaniment slipped from his voice, leaving it bare to her ears.
She gulped. "Oh, right."
A brief pause. "What is it that you wanted in exchange for finding Vaggie yesterday, Al?" she asked, hesitant to hear his answer.
"Why, I thought you'd never ask!" His tone was over-the-top and lively, ever-exaggerated as usual. His hand beckoned her, palm facing upwards and clawed fingers outstretched.
"Take my hand, my darling, and find out for yourself."
She stared at the outstretched hand, dreading what it stood for.
This can't be good. No way, not with that manic look in his eyes.
Still, a deal's a deal. He had helped her. Now, it was her turn.
She grabbed the hand.
Instantly, she felt herself transported away. It was slightly nauseating, especially after her big breakfast.
The scene before her faded. She hadn't even had time to say goodbye to her newly met guests. Still clutching a fork in her hand, she suddenly dropped it to the floor of the new room before her, startled and taking in the new scene before her.
The metal rebounded from the polished, lacquered flooring with a loud clang.
Yellow. It was all she could see. Bright, merry shades of yellow decorated the wide walls and endless floor beneath her.
She was in a large, open room. Gold columns decorated the walls in elaborate designs. Light peach curtains draped elegantly over the many illuminated windows that were lined between the columns.
It appeared to be a vacant ballroom. But...why would he have brought her here?
She heard a faint, static-inflicted humming and felt the clothing that covered her begin to morph. Her black slacks gave way to a shimmering, vivid peach skirt that flowed down to her ankles. Her shirt attached itself to it and flaunted the same bright hue. Her once long white sleeves shrivelled into poofy, translucent pearls around each shoulder.
She felt her hair curl into tight ringlets that barely grazed her shoulders, much like how it had been the last time he'd transformed her appearance.
She looked around the room, then at her form. Finally, her gaze settled on his still-outstretched hand. He was bowing slightly, exhibiting a formal dip from his waist.
She drank in his new dapper appearance with voracious eyes. He wore a long, wide-flared tailcoat, its silhouette strikingly similar to that of his traditional pinstripe crimson coat except that there were no tears along the ends. It was of a solid color, a soothing, off-white shade of cream with the lightest strawberry tint. His traditionally black bowtie faded to white, as did his slacks. While his appearance had always been handsome before just as it was now, he now also looked uncharacteristically soft and approachable.
"The last time we danced, I could not help but notice your smooth, flawless footsteps. It has been so long since I have last had a dance partner whose moves could rival my own fluid motions."
He dipped lower before her. His shining ruby eyes rose to meet hers.
"Miss Charlotte, would you be so kind as to indulge me in a dance or two?"
'Well damn. How can I refuse with a display like that?' she thought to herself, a sense of euphoria spreading within her. She licked her black lips before extending her hand to meet his, suddenly noticing the long white opera gloves that covered her forearms.
The quick, upbeat notes of a waltz reverberated suddenly against the tall walls, coming softly at first before slowly ramping up to a loud crescendo. Hints of violins sung highly against the tying notes of their larger, deeper cousins, the cellos.
Alastor spun her around gracefully the moment her hand settled over his. He dipped her down to the beat of the music.
She looked up at him, mesmerized.
"Alastor, what is this place?" she asked in a dreamy voice.
He tilted her back up then widely stepped out. They faced each other, their arms lifted and outstretched, fingers meeting in the middle.
He chuckled softly. All hints of radio and static were gone from his voice. His voice sounded crisp and pleasant against the melody. "This? Palais Sanglant, one of the many properties that I've… acquired."
He pulled her towards her again, his arm suddenly looping tightly against her waist like a noose. His steps accurately and dutily performed the Viennese waltz in time to the music. He kept his eyes focused on her, never once leaving those shining black orbs.
"It's so beautiful," she sighed.
"Then it suits you," he countered, a mischievous smirk on his lips.
"Al! You can't go saying things like that!" Her mouth was agape, not believing the words she had just heard.
But his smile only grew. "Oh? And why not, my charming dame?"
She scrunched her face, growing more and more flustered as she kept up with his movements. Dancing with him felt as easy as walking. He led so devoutly, his steps sure and guiding.
"Be - because! It's not nice to joke at others expense." She huffed the air from her nose, a soft "hmph" emerging. She turned away yet continued the motions flawlessly. This dance had been one of several she'd learned while still living at the palace with her Mom and Dad.
Alastor dipped her low. His fingers cupped her chin and he pivoted her to face him.
"And if I say I'm not joking? That I'm telling the honest truth?" he dared.
He held her like that and waited for her answer, not caring that the music had continued without them.
Her cheeks burned the longer he held her. Not wanting to fall into the trap he'd laid out for her, she changed topics. "Is this really the music you want to dance to? I would've taken you for a guy that likes more snappy music."
Finally, he raised her back to standing. His hands pulled away from her and held them in the air in mocked surrender.
"You caught me, princess." His tone was dripping in sarcasm.
The music stopped, and Charlie witnessed her form change once more. She giggled as she saw a loose, shapeless dress now grace her.
Oh, Al. Ever dramatic I see.
He snapped his fingers, and a new melody emerged. Charlie listened excitedly, bouncing up and down, to the brass instruments weaving in and out in a playful jazz ensemble.
"Now personally, if you're looking for good music to dance to, there's nothing like The Charleston. Just you stand there and watch, Charlie."
His motions were a blur and indeed snappy. He snapped his left leg forward, it bent at the knee and his shoe behind it in the air. Then he repeated the motion behind him. She watched alertly as he stepped it down and did the same with his right foot.
Her eyes were fixated on him, eagerly taking in each new movement of this endearing new dance.
She involuntarily curled her lips in a wide smile when he suddenly repeated the same snappy leg movement, only pivoting each time until he had spun in a circle.
"Oh, Al! That looks like so much fun! Let me give it a try!"
A natural dancer, she picked up his moves quickly. Soon they were in sync. They held no regard for the time as it ticked by. Instead, they were solely focused on each other, the music, and their snappy movements.
"You know, back in the time when I was alive, people would dance to this until they couldn't move anymore!" He laughed between pants. "It was a big contest, to see who was still dancing amongst the multitude of gents and ladies lying on the floor out of breath. The last remaining couple would be crowned the victors. Oh, it lasted hours! All night even!"
Charlie noted the happy look on his face as he reminisced and stored it deep within her mind as a treasured memory. It was so rare to see him like this. His face had relaxed into a natural position, his muscles no longer strained.
"Oh ya? Let's go, right now! You and me. I betcha I can outdance you any day of the week!" she goaded.
His brows rose at the challenge.
"Oh?" His words were quiet, but there was a great excitement laced within them. "You think you can best me?"
His eyes narrowed at her. "My dear, you know nothing of what I am capable of."
She stuck her tongue out at him. "Nor do you know of my own prowess!"
Oh! The gall! The audacity of this woman! His undead heart was pumping with adrenaline, never expecting this sudden turn of events.
"Very well. I accept your challenge, Miss Charlotte." His smile grew wider.
He snapped and his own band of shadow puppets replaced the recorded music. Live jazz filled the open room.
"Let's see who can best whom, shall we?" he wagged.
As they danced the hours away, she felt the walls she had put up against his sly person crumbling. A question that had been on her mind since their first day together surfaced. Not holding her tongue, she blankly asked, "Why do you insist on calling me Charlotte? I go by just Charlie."
He hummed at her question and answered between pants. "A multitude of reasons, my dear. Firstly, I like seeing the red rise from your rosy cheeks when you blush at the mere mention of your given name. It's adorable," he crooned.
Her brows furrowed at his answer, not liking it.
"Secondly, I like the way your voice hitches and rises an octave higher. You're so enamoring when you're flustered, darling."
She was about to interrupt, but then he continued.
"Thirdly, I like the way your name feels on my tongue, like a gentle caress. Charlotte. Hmm, I don't think I could ever grow tired of that word. Did you know that it's French in origin? Much like my own dear mother's, bless her heart."
He froze suddenly at the slip of his tongue. Just what had compelled him to mention his mother?
"Ha! I win! Take that!" she declared loudly.
He continued to stare at her blankly, his mind racing. He was supposed to charm her, to lull her into a false affection.
So why did he feel like the entranced one instead.
He bowed at her curtly, expertly masking his newfound trepidation. "Indeed, it seems you have won this round." '-Charlotte,' he added with a menacing hiss underneath his breath, inaudible for anyone but him due to his keen, animalistic ears.