Stars. Pinpricks of light, trillions of kilometres away, boiling, burning balls of gas. Wyr missed the stars glinting in an ocean of blue, gazed upon by humans every night. In stark contrast, the skies of Hell at night were like the dried bloodstains one could never wash out. The closest thing to a moon was the sight of Heaven, a gently whiling ball of white feathers and eyes… No, Heaven was nothing like the gentle light of the moon, but like a cat watching a mouse unaware it was about to be feasted upon. Wyr turned from the pentagrammed sky and turned to the darkened room. No lights were lit, the fires burning in the city were bountiful enough to throw light through Wyr's window, bathing the small apartment in flickering, dancing shadows. She'd long since gotten over the habit of cradling her blackened hands at the sight of raging fires. There were fires every day in Pentagram city, and Wyr had learned quickly that showing weakness out there, out in the streets, was like walking with a large 'kill me' sign.
Extermination Day was finally over, which meant Wyr could leave her apartment again. The last of the angels had flown back through their portal only a few moments ago…Like they were having too much fun slaughtering to leave too soon. They'd waited until the stroke of midnight to yank the last of their spears from the dead and return to the pearly gates.
A small charm hung above the door at the threshold of the apartment. She yanked it down and took it back to the large worktable that took up the largest space in the room. The old table had been put together from dumpsters and rubble piles and carried almost the sum weight of all Wyr's work. Wyr had been in Hell for hundreds of years now and had made a few friends in higher, or lower places, allowing her access to archives and libraries that as a human, she would never have dreamed of. Now her knowledge helped her eke out a life beyond her duties.
There was a quiet chime from the bedroom, drawing Wyr's attention away from the table. Her bedroom was darker than the main room, with her bed taking up the majority of the space. When she'd spent her whole human life on pallets of hay, the large bed and comfortable mattress had been absolute luxuries. She was in Hell anyway, what was the point of suffering any more than she had to? When she picked up her phone, messages started to slowly roll across the screen, 666News already suggesting a death toll in the hundreds, replays of the most depraved and gruesome deaths carried out by the Exorcists, and messages from customers, reaching out with thanks for her continued work.
It worked just like you said. They had no idea when I walked past them.
It was like our building didn't exist. You've proved yourself once again.
The money is in your account. Ta, dear.
Wyr's smile was a quiet, and personal thing as she scrolled through the thankful messages. Magic had cost her her life back on earth, but here in Hell, she had to admit it was treated with respect…And the fear it would be used against them. Because she was in Hell. Wyr was supposed to fight to the top of the heap with all the tools she possessed. But what was the point when she had a job, had duties to fulfil, and no patron to rely on? From the nightstand next to her bed, the sound of static crackled and popped, drawing Wyr to the old, worn radio that had lit up. She watched, waiting as the dial spun, small amber light flickering, until it stopped, and hummed quietly.
"As clever as ever, my dear." Wyr smiled at the radio, imagining the face-splitting grin on the other end. Friends in high places indeed.
"I don't believe you needed my help Alastor. I was so surprised when I got your message yesterday."
"Ahaha, and yet you delivered all the same." Wyr, sat down, slipping down against the thin sheets of her bed. Finally, the adrenalin of the day began to slip away as she listened to the hum of the radio.
"I owe you Alastor, you've always helped me out when I needed it. I'm not blind to that fact. I couldn't offer you my soul but you've always had my back."
"Careful darling…You're making me out to be an altruist, and we can't have that. You're starting to sound like someone I'd call an old friend." Wyr snorted at the radio, thinking the demon on the other end leaning back in his chair, his cane twisting and spinning in his hand. She hadn't seen his new radio tower yet. Had dropped off his requested bundle to a cat-faced demon that looked pretty familiar in the Magne District and hurried back to her apartment building to finish the rest of her last-minute requests.
"Your aversion to friendship is noted, Alastor, and I know you won't forget, but I am here when you have need of me." Wyr hesitated for a moment, then continued, quieter, feeling more vulnerable than she would have ever admitted out loud. "You were gone for so long…I…I knew not to worry, I knew you'd come back…But I missed having you around. I missed our little chats. That's all I wanted to say."
Wyr waited, her breath held, in the quiet of the apartment until the radio cracked and sparked. The overlord's voice was quiet and contemplative when he eventually responded.
"Your concern is noted, dear." There was a crackle of radio waves. "Our conversations were of great import to me as well."
Wyr grinned, holding the demon's admission close to her chest.
"Call on me at any time Alastor. My radio will always be on."
"You know you're up awfully late for a woman burying the dead tomorrow." Wyr groaned, shaking her head.
"Don't even go there. There's such a backlog of papers that I'm spending more time behind a desk than digging, but there were so many requests for aid…I just wish the man could do his fucking job."
"I could pull a few strings…For a favour." Wyr juggled the idea in her head. Each burial required a signature.
She'd been making do with Lillith's system, but Lillith had been gone for seven years now… And all her efforts in getting an audience with the recluse King of Hell were denied. Wyr had to bury the dead. She couldn't put it off like he put off taking care of his Kingdom. She couldn't be held up by paperwork.
So she'd been going to other royalty. A few papers here and there…It barely scraped the surface of what had to be done. If she could just get the papers in front of Lucifer, get him to mass sign off on everything…Maybe he could sign away the rights to the land, and let her take control fully, instead of this disgusting half-life.
"Let me think about it?"
When the radio crackled again and the dial spun, Alastor was gone, and instead, a soft jazzy number was soothing the sharp edges of Wyr's day. Wyr wrestled with her sheets until she was tucked beneath them and in the firelit bedroom, it only took one song before she'd fallen asleep.
