Alastor sat by his fireplace nursing a glass of whiskey when Charlie knocked softly on his door.
"Alastor?" she called cautiously, "It's me."
"I don't wish to be disturbed, dear," he said, finishing one glass and pouring another.
Charlie opened the door anyway, peeking in carefully, "I saw what happened."
"Nothing happened," he countered, eyes locked on the dancing flames. He was still smiling. Always smiling.
Charlie didn't know what to think. But it was her job to help people fix their mistakes, not to judge them for it. "Do you know where Elida is? I'm sure if you just told her you were sorry-"
"Sorry for what?" The static in his voice rose with irritation. The air crackled.
Charlie closed the door behind her. "Look, Alastor, it's okay to mess up sometimes. But if you just-"
"Leave," Alastor interrupted her. There was darkness in his voice, a lingering threat that made the hair on the back of Charlie's neck stand on end. She stood her ground.
"No," she said stubbornly. "We need to talk about this. Elida is important to the hotel, and she's important to me. I know she's important to you too, even if you messed up. We can't lose her. You need to make this right."
"The picture was a fake," he said, finally turning to look at her. She was shocked to see what looked like a tear trying to escape the corner of one of his eyes. One blink and it was gone. "I've been framed. Now if you'll kindly leave me be," he took another sip, "I'd like to be alone." He needed to get drunk.
Charlie stared. "A fake? But why? Why would someone do that?"
"I have many enemies, darling," he explained, "and publicly courting Elida was a delightful opportunity for them to f* with me. We knew from the start it would be a mess, but despite how brilliant she usually is, Elida still seemed to fall for the ruse." He finished the glass, refilling it again. "Passions do have a way of messing with one's head. They're best avoided when possible."
"Don't say that," Charlie said, moving to sit in the armchair across from him. "Love is such a beautiful thing, and what you two have is really special. I'm sure she'll understand."
"She's run off. She left her wand behind."
"But she loves her wand…"
"So it seemed."
"I'll call her," Charlie offered, pulling out her phone and dialing Elida's number. It went straight to voicemail. "Fuck."
"I doubt any of us will hear from her until she's ready."
"Well, we have to do something," Charlie protested, "We can't just sit here."
"She left this," Alastor waved his hand, and the note Elida wrote appeared on Charlie's lap. "We wait until morning."
Charlie read the note, more confused than ever. "What does this mean? Where is she going?"
"I have my suspicions," he said vaguely, turning his eyes back to the fireplace.
They sat in the quiet for a while, listening to the crackle of the fireplace. It was so odd sitting next to him without some ambient ragtime tune playing in the air, but today there was nothing. Charlie didn't know what to say to help Alastor, so she just stayed there with him. He didn't kick her out. He poured her a glass of whisky. They watched the fire burn. Charlie pretended not to see the way he clutched the arm of the chair, tearing it open with his claws.
After a long time, something tapped at the balcony door, making Charlie jump.
"What was that?" she whispered. It felt wrong to break the silence too abruptly, and she felt a bit funny from the whiskey.
The door opened, and a white glow shined into Alastor's suite. A soft, sweet-sounding voice called out to him, "Allie? Are you in here?"
Alastor stood up slowly, straightening his jacket. "Yes, dearest," he called out, "Do come in."
She didn't enter right away. Instead, she said gently, "I know the picture was a fake. I'm sorry I worried you."
Charlie watched for a reaction from Alastor. Outwardly, he was as stoic as ever, but relief flooded thorough him like a tidal wave. His first question was, "Are you safe?" Wherever she'd gone, she'd expected it to be dangerous.
"Safer than I've been in a while," she said cryptically.
"Oh? Do elaborate."
"I brought you a present."
"Then you should know I'm not alone. Charlie is here with me."
"That's okay, Charlie can stay if she wants."
"Well, don't keep us in suspense," Alastor said cheekily.
He briefly wondered if she'd seen the letter he'd left on her bed. Probably not. She wouldn't be coming from the balcony if she'd stopped by her room first. Should he send a voodoo doll to go get it? Should he avoid her until she got the chance to read it? Should he tuck it away until he needed it again later? If she knew the picture was a fake, he didn't need to convince her.
Sincerity didn't come naturally to Alastor, and the letter had been difficult to write. Every word was honest, and it felt very raw. If it was too much too soon, it might scare her off. Or, if something else happened later on down the road, he might need it again. In the end, he decided to leave it there. Let her read it. She'd react how she'd react.
She walked in, movements as graceful as a ballerina. Her hands were empty. "Before I show you," She said, "I owe you an apology. I didn't mean to scare you, and I'm sorry I couldn't tell you what I was doing. You'll understand in a minute."
Alastor couldn't hold himself back. He ran up to her and pulled her into a desperate hug, holding onto her like he'd never see her again. "You owe me nothing," he said, squeezing tighter.
She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his neck, "I do. I left you there to worry. It was cruel."
"You are many things, love, but cruel is not one of them. You can leave that to me."
Charlie watched with misty eyes. Other than her own, Charlie hadn't had the opportunity to witness very many healthy relationships. In Hell, most couples fought, screamed, and abused each other. Misunderstandings were ignored or made worse, and resenting your partner was a common problem. But clearly not Alastor and Elida.
Maybe it was an angel thing? Vaggie was an angel, and Charlie was half-angel. Would Alastor be so forgiving if he were dating a demon? She was glad they had each other, even if it would only be for a little while. Charlie was beginning to see the subtle changes in Alastor's actions and demeanor. He was on the path to redemption whether he liked it or not.
When Elida pulled away, she hovered into the air just high enough to kiss Alastor's forehead. "You're not going to believe this," she said, "so I won't bother trying to tell you what your present is. I'm just going to show you."
She stepped back, holding out her hand. She snapped her fingers. Within her grasp, a golden chain appeared, glowing bright and strong. Alastor knew what that was, and was about to be very upset, until he saw that she wasn't the one in the collar.
At the other end of the chain, hugging his chest in shock and terror, stood none other than Vox. Alastor had so many questions running through his mind while his grin grew wider and wider. He didn't know how she'd done this, but Alastor liked where this was going. Charlie didn't. Her smile dropped very very quickly. If Alastor could change, maybe Elida could too…
"He has something to say to you," Elida said pointedly. "First in private, so you can respond freely, then he'll be making a public statement to plaster all over the morning news."
Vox looked like he was about to puke. "Ah… I um…"
"Now, Vox," Elida commanded.
The words were forced out of his mouth, "I'm sorry for photoshopping a picture of you and blasting it onto every device in Hell."
"Good boy," Elida condescended. "Now, on your knees."
Vox knelt on the ground, humiliated. Alastor's smile got bigger. Elida had never been sexier; maybe he'd join her in her bed one day after all.
"Kiss his shoes."
"You can't be serious!"
"Do it," she ordered.
Vox's stupid flat head lowered to the ground, and he kissed Alastor's shiny tap shoes. Alastor kicked him in the face.
"Ow! Fuck!" Vox reeled back and clutched his eye in pain.
"Woah, hey!" Charlie exclaimed, "Was that really necessary?"
"I would like some time alone with my girlfriend, Charlie dear, if it's all the same to you." Alastor opened the door with a wave of his hand, "Do enjoy the rest of your evening, will you?" He guided her by the shoulders to the exit and patted her head, then closed the door in her face. It happened so fast that she didn't even have time to protest. When the door was thoroughly locked, Alastor turned back to the dramatic scene unfolding in front of him.
"You get to decide," Elida told him, "You can accept his apology and forgive him, or you can come up with a reasonable consequence for what he did. The choice is yours."
"Consequence, easily," Alastor said without hesitation. Vox was frightened, but not surprised.
"Okay," Elida nodded, "And what would you like to happen to him? I don't want him permanently killed, I have too many things I need him for."
Alastor tapped his chin, thoroughly enjoying himself now, "Hmmm, what to do, what to do…" He leaned his elbows on his cane, looming over Vox's prone form. "The way I see it," he said to Vox, "You've slighted three people here. We'll let all our previous misadventures slide for now. As for tonight," Alastor kicked Vox again, this time in the stomach, "We'll have one different type of penance for each person."
"Wait," Vox said, coughing, "What do you mean, three?"
"Did you forget that my sister is a person, too?" Elida reminded him.
"Ah yes," Alastor agreed, "Poor Aida. That little darlin' didn't deserve to be pulled into this, now did she? For her, I think a nice new apron to replace that ratty old thing she's been wearing would suffice."
"An apron?" That was it? That couldn't be it. Vox stared, bewildered.
"Indeed, and I think you're just the one to make it! Of course, we'll need materials. A little leather ought to be sufficient." Alastor's signature smile was sharp and sadistic. "I think some fresh Vox leather would be the perfect touch, don't you? Naturally, it will have to be freshly tanned. So, I'll skin you myself. When you inevitably bleed out, or die of shock, and subsequently regenerate, you can make Aida her little gift, and we'll call the first apology square."
Vox wanted desperately to run, but the chain kept him in place. He looked to Elida for help, but she simply watched Alastor, waiting for him to finish. How could she agree to this? She was supposed to be the nice one. If anything, she looked a bit turned on. What the actual fuck was wrong with her?
"As for the second," the Radio Demon continued, "My lovely Elida has been wronged. She doesn't like getting her dainty little hands dirty, so you can be the one to carry out your own punishment here. We all know her love of flames, so you will douse yourself in gasoline and light yourself on fire." He waved his arms in a silly jazz-hands motion, "Elida and I can roast marshmallows!"
Vox vomited on Alastor's carpet. Alastor sent a few voodoo dolls to clean it up before it could stink up the place.
"And lastly," he said cheerfully, "for myself. You ruined a rather lovely party. I was having a grand time, you know. Rosie's events are a total gas! But you had to go and mess it up. So, to apologize to me, we'll be throwing you to the cannibals, with special instructions that they not make it quick. I will watch as they tear you apart the way they tried to tear me apart today."
"The cannibals attacked you?" Elida asked, a little surprised.
"Yes, dear. It seems they were quite upset that I'd allegedly betrayed you. They're all rather taken with you, you know."
"Oh?" She added with a knowing look, "It couldn't possibly have had to do with the possibility of the exterminations happening again if I were to leave, could it?"
"Oh ho, hush," he laughed, "We all know they adore you by now. And who can blame them? Charming thing like you?"
"Consider me honored," she joked.
"As you ought!" he winked at her. She blushed.
"Once the cannibals are done with him," Alastor finished, "we can consider his debt for tonight paid. Whaddya think?"
"I think that sounds fair," Elida agreed.
"Hey," Vox said desperately, "I get it, I fucked up. I'm sorry, okay? I'll- OOF!"
Elida rested a hoof on her new soul's back, forcing him back to the floor and gesturing playfully for Alastor to come closer. He gladly obeyed. He nuzzled his nose on hers, making her giggle.
"It's not just Vox," Elida said, her voice turning low and sultry. She ran her hands over his shoulders and down his chest, "I got all three. I just took control over the Vees entire corner of the pentagram. You're looking at a brand-new Overlord."
"Mmm, talk mighty to me," he purred, taking her chin in his hand. "Just how did you manage that, may I ask?" He leaned in, hovering just a few inches from her lips, teasing her.
She smiled seductively, "It's easy to trick people when they think they have the upper hand. That's why I had to look so upset and leave you all alone. They were watching. When I had them totally convinced that I hated you, they tried to convince me to sell my soul in exchange for having you killed. I switched the contracts while their backs were turned, and they ended up signing theirs away to me instead."
"Clever girl," Alastor grabbed her waist and pulled her body closer, "So that's what you took from my cabinet."
"It is," she confirmed. "I needed an airtight contract, and quick."
"And, just to be sure, who is it that has the upper hand right now? You or I?"
"Why, you of course," she flirted, batting her eyes.
"Uh-huh. Sure." And then he kissed her. He kissed her passionately, right above Vox as they kept him pinned and sprawling on the floor.
She pushed him, grabbing his jacket and shoving him into the wall. She'd not be physically strong enough to do it by force, but Alastor was only too happy to do whatever she wanted. Contract or not, she owned him. Elida sent Vox away to prepare his public apology, and Alastor spent the next several hours with his lips locked firmly onto hers, scarcely coming up for air.
He almost thought about taking things further. Almost. But not yet. He wasn't ready. So, when Elida started to feel sleepy, he escorted her to her room. One last good night kiss, and he retired to his suite, where he stood in the corner of his room, watching fireflies twinkle about in his mini swamp. Elida twinkled too. She was good at twinkling.
Back in her own room, Elida yawned, smiling contentedly. The ball hadn't gone as she'd pictured, but it had ended up being an incredibly productive day. The number of people whose lives she could improve had just skyrocketed, and she was going to take full advantage of that.
She stripped off her ball gown and tossed it onto a chair, replacing it with a set of clean silk pajamas. She was ready to crash. Yawning, Elida plopped down onto her bed, only to be surprised at the sensation of paper against her cheek. She sat up, grabbing the offending object and examining it.
It was a red envelope with a wax seal shaped like a radio. She wondered how long it had been there. Had Alastor set it there before they left for the party? Did he put it there after she'd run off? Curious, she opened it. She pulled out a cream-colored letter written in blood red ink. Or, at least, she assumed it was ink. There was no knowing with that man. The handwriting was a clean and precise cursive.
Using the light of her own glow, she read.
" To the love of my afterlife: My Elida,
You are a queen among women. In all my years, I never once thought that I would fall victim to the spell of affection, and yet you have cast this curse so thoroughly upon me that I am merely putty in your hands. I think of you through every waking moment. Were I able to dream, it would be your face that would haunt my nights.
My soul may be damned, but the sensation of your lips against mine is a blessing far greater than any gift the saints and angels could possibly hope to offer. I don't need to earn my own halo, because you are all the Heaven I could ever need.
I spent my life and death listening to songs, watching plays, and reading stories filled with messages of love. Until now, I didn't understand what they meant. How could something so intangible topple kings? Why wage wars over the heart of a single person? Why not simply choose not to love, and free oneself of the burden? But having met you, I see now what the poets were attempting so poorly to convey. In a medium as limited as words, they tried to express something that brings even the mightiest of us to our knees.
And now, I kneel before you in awe.
The day may come when we part ways. We may share a final kiss. I may hear your voice for the last time. But until the day my soul is destroyed, I will keep you safe in my heart. Should you choose to leave, or to stay, or to end me with your own hand, it makes no difference. I have been conquered by you, and I am all the better for it.
With Eternal Devotion,
Alastor Hartfelt"