The reaction of sheer horror on the kids' faces when Elida stepped so easily out of their circle was nothing short of hilarious. The fact that her wings and halo weren't enough to tip these children off told Alastor all he needed to know about their level of observational intelligence. They were not the sharpest tools in the torture chamber.
"The thing with demon circles," Elida said calmly while one of the kids instinctively threw their radio at her, "is that they only work on demons."
The radio smashed against her chest, breaking open in a chunk of wires and plastic. She didn't flinch. It hadn't hurt. It was as if they'd thrown it against a brick wall. Angels were durable like that.
Sally, either the bravest or the stupidest of the group, actually moved closer to Elida, looking her up and down. "If you're not a demon, and you're not a fairy, then what are you?"
"Oh, just tagging along," Elida laughed again, stuffing her hands in her pockets. "You seem to have kidnapped my favorite creature of darkness. That's not very polite of you."
"Ah, I don't mind! I get a fair number of my souls from deals like this," Alastor tapped his staff against the invisible barrier holding him. It wouldn't be difficult to break, at least not for him. A less powerful entity may have been trapped, but the Radio Demon was no run-of-the-mill monster. The kids had used cheap materials. Real blood would have been better than red paint. And their dollar-store candles didn't even have any herbs in them. Amateurs.
The two boys behind Sally tried to sneakily inch toward the door. Alastor cast a spell to lock it. These kids needed to learn a lesson before they summoned someone less… friendly. A little fear ought to do the trick. They wanted a demon; they'd get a demon.
"What do you mean, you get souls?" One of the boys asked, eyes wide.
Elida bent down, picking up the shattered remains of the radio. She fiddled with the wires. "No one gets anything for free," she explained. "If you want a demon to give you something, you have to give them something back. Alastor, here, likes to trade immortal souls."
"Does he own your soul?" the boy asked.
"He has something of mine," Elida answered, batting her eyes, "but it's not my soul."
"Oh, my type of influence over her is far more precious than that of a measly little contract," Alastor inspected his sharp nails with a smirk.
"Hush, you flirt," Elida smiled.
"Ha! No."
Once again, one of the boys pretended to be brave. "We'll give him his freedom. If he doesn't give us what we want, then he stays here forever!"
"Does your mother know you're painting on her floor?" Alastor asked. "Mine would have sent me to bed without supper if I'd made a mess like this." He held his hand out to Elida, "Hand me that, would you, darling?"
Elida gave him the radio. He fixed it with a simple spell. A strange, unsettling static sounded from the speaker while the children gawked in awe at the casual display of magic. That excitement was short lived however, because the radio suddenly sprouted several green tentacles and began skittering across the floor straight for them like some kind of messed-up radio spider.
"Ahhhh! Ew ew ew ew ew!" Sally jumped up onto a chair, "Get it away!"
The two boys squealed like piglets, running for the door, only to yank on the knob and find their exit locked. Elida leaned against the wall, watching the whole thing with a twinkle in her eye. Alastor winked at her. The radio-creature caught the boy with the glasses, crawling up his legs and onto his head. Its tentacles made the ickiest squishy sound as they moved.
The boy with the glasses screamed and flailed, trying to escape the radio-creature. "Get it off! Oh god, get it off!"
" G o d ca n' t f i nd y o u h er e," the radio said in the most disturbing, distorted voice any of the children had ever heard. Elida had heard worse. Honestly, Allie was taking it easy on them.
The boy's glasses fell off as he yanked and cried. They smashed beneath his feet while the radio's tentacles wrapped themselves around his head. Now blinded and terrified, the boy tried smashing the radio against the wall. Alastor let him think the weak blow worked, sending the radio-creature crashing to the ground. These terror games required some give and take, after all.
The radio-creature sloshed to the floor, its tentacles squishing and twitching. The boy who'd lost his glasses pounded at the door, begging for someone to come and let them out. The boy who'd done the summoning in the first place stomped at the radio-creature, trying to smash it. It dodged, grabbing onto his foot instead.
It was the second boy's turn to panic. He hopped up and down, shaking his foot frantically until he lost his balance and fell to the ground. While he was on his back, the radio-creature skittered up to loom over his face. That's when Alastor turned on his scream station.
A horrific symphony of agonized shrieks released from the radio-creature. It was, in Elida's opinion, a rather succinct depiction of what demons went through. It gave the kids a solid idea of what they were messing with, without having to show them an actual window into Hell. They would have been far too young for that.
The screams of the three children joined the sound of the station, their terror evident and shrill. The boy on the ground smacked the radio-creature. Alastor let it go flying across the room, landing conveniently at the feet of the chair Sally stood on. Her turn.
When the radio-creature tried to climb up Sally's chair, the girl took a fresh approach. She grabbed one of the lit candles and tried to set the creature on fire; An Elida-approved tactic if there ever was one! For the sake of the chaos, Elida aided Sally's attempt. Subtly wiggling her fingers, she helped the flames catch on Alastor's little plastic toy. It ignited with a fwoOOSH!
In response, Alastor gave Elida an amused, ' so that's how you want to play,' look. Fine; he'll play. He sent the radio-creature skuttling madly around the room, making sure to knock the other candles over and catch every flammable object aflame. He kept the blaze controlled, ensuring it never got near the kids, but he let it seem like it was spreading uncontested.
Manipulating the fire so that it sent menacing shadows dancing across his face, Alastor laughed wildly. The three children's eyes were pulled back to him. They saw a smiling monster with sharp teeth, red eyes, and long claws cackling within the flames. Strange symbols floated in the air around him. His shadow grew and grew, leaving long claw marks carved into the walls.
They deeply regretted their decision to summon a demon.
When he was sure he had their undivided attention, Alastor said in the same distorted voice that the radio had used, " T h is i s w h at ha p pe n s w h en yo u m es s w i t h th e fo rc es o f H el l , H A HAH AH A HA H A AA A A A !"
Elida knew a climactic moment when she saw one, so she quietly broke the salt circle with her hoof, breaking the weak barrier binding Alastor to the living world. Shrinking back to fit on his shoulder, she sent a flash of vibrant light into the room. When the light was gone, so were they.
The fire went out, the radio-creature's tentacles disappeared, and the children were left alone in a dark room. They stared into the blackness, stunned and silent. The only sound left was the twitchy static of a broken radio.
Exactly as the Radio Demon intended, none of them touched so much as a Ouija board for the rest of their lives.
Luckily, Alastor and Elida made it back to Hell in time to locate Shakespie. They wrapped him in a bathrobe and escorted his shaking self safely home. His first question was about Aerwyna. He wanted to make sure she knew he hadn't stood her up on purpose. Elida reassured him that the mermaid knew what had happened.
He sighed in relief, "Good. I don't want her to be upset."
"Oh, she was quite upset," Alastor corrected, "Just not at you."
"Murder doesn't happen in Heaven," Elida added, "so seeing you shot was rather shocking for her."
When they got to Shakespie's estate, they sat at a table while the butler made tea. The scent of roasting meat wafted in from the kitchen. It seemed the cook had already received Shakespie's body and was hard at work. Elida would stick with salad, even if the smell was tempting.
They were having a lovely time helping Shakespie relax when a loud boom sounded from outside. It shook the table, nearly knocking down a flower vase. The maid ran up, looking panicked.
"Sir, the paper boys are getting bolder! One just threw a grenade right at the front door!"
Shakespie sighed, massaging his forehead. "Are they still outside?"
"No, sir. They rode off again."
"Okay. Thank you, Joan. Please ensure no one is hurt, and have the damage fixed. Again."
"Of course," Joan nodded, running off to do as her beloved master asked.
Alastor narrowed his eyes. "The newsies have been harassing you?"
"I'm not sure why," Shakespie tossed his hands in the air, "but they've been breaking every window in the house for ages now. I had to replace them all with ludicrously expensive bullet proof glass. Lately, it's been getting worse. They're attacking my staff, poisoning my food, slashing my tires… they're relentless."
"Are they, now?" Alastor's claws tapped on his staff. "About how long has this been happening?"
"Months at least. Maybe a year? It's hard to say."
"Hm. Alright then."
Alastor snapped his fingers. In front of them, a swarm of sharp, inky paper planes appeared. They fluttered straight into a wall, not having expected their pathway to be so suddenly blocked.
"Ow! Fuck!" Snyder cursed, his paper pieces swirling together into a humanoid shape. "You could warn a guy before pullin' me outta nowhere, you prick."
Shakespie blinked in surprise, "Is that the newspaper tycoon?"
Snyder lit a money-cigar, taking a long drag. "Well, if it ain't the famous Benjamin Shakespie, head of Positivity Potions. Nice ta be makin' your acquaint-."
Alastor interrupted, "have your little fellas been bothering my friend here, old pal?"
"You don't got friends," Snyder snarked, avoiding eye contact.
"That's not even a little bit true," Elida commented.
"Keep your whore mouth… shut…" Snyder suddenly remembered who he was talking to and tapered off. He hated this woman for losing him his soul, but he feared Alastor more.
Alastor stood up, his shadow looming over Snyder like a death shroud. "What did you just say to her?"
Snyder wisely quieted, shrinking back under Alastor's grinning gaze. His chains appeared, the collar holding Snyder's soul yanking him to his knees.
"Apologize to my doll at once."
Snyder turned to Elida, eyes wide. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean-" he coughed under the pressure of his collar.
"Forgiven," Elida said sweetly, sipping on her still-boiling tea.
Alastor's eyes glowed ominously, "Answer my question, you pathetic, elementary-school craft-project. Have your boys been bothering Elida's business partner?"
"Yes," Snyder answered.
"Why, pray-tell, have they been doing such a thing? Be truthful, now," he patted Snyder's head condescendingly, "honesty is a redeeming virtue, after all!"
Fear or not, Snyder was magically forced to comply. "I couldn't hurt your girl," he explained hesitantly, "so I had my boys fuck wit' ya girl's friend. It's her fault you got me in these fuckin' chains."
"My fault?" Elida asked, confused. "I didn't have anything to do with it. I barely know your name."
"Yeah, well if you weren't so damn nuts, I'd have won our bet and been fine!"
"What bet?" Elida raised an eyebrow at Alastor.
"Do you recall when I asked for a small piece of your skin?" Alastor reminded her. "That's what this was. If I'd lost, he'd have been given one of my souls. When he lost, I got to pick one of his. I chose his own." Alastor shrugged, seeming quite pleased with himself. "It's on him for not bothering to specify whose souls were on the table."
Elida racked her brain, barely remembering the interaction. "But that was ages ago. You've been bothering Ben this whole time?"
"Most of the time it's just been inconvenient pranks," Shakespie soothed. "Alastor, respectfully, please be peaceful when you are in my home. I don't condone violence here."
"Hmmm..." Alastor's demeanor shifted to a friendlier one, "Fair enough."
His host had made a reasonable request; any polite gentleman would either comply or leave. Alastor chose to comply. "Snyder, my good fellow, you are not to bother, harass, or prank any of my dearest Elida's associates, whether by your own hand, or by others. If I discover you've found a way around that order, I'll have a grand old time draining the ink from your body and using it to doodle on the morning papers. Is that clear?"
Snyder nodded eagerly. He understood, and he hated it. He hated Alastor, he hated Elida, and he hated Shakespie. But above all, he hated himself for being stupid enough to end up in this situation. Decades in Hell and he'd managed to rise to the top without selling his soul, only to lose it by accident. He felt like a moron.
When Snyder left, Alastor, Shakespie, and Elida talked over dinner. They chatted about deals, drama, and death. Ben went on for an adorably long time about the scientific journals Aerwyna had written and shared with him. The poor thing had fallen hard. Elida thought it was cute. Alastor could relate.
After his guests left, Shakespie sat and stared at his plate. He'd eaten his own flesh. It was the most ethical way he had to subside the cravings, but it wasn't like he could shoot himself every day just to keep fed. Unexpected tears welled up in his eyes. He resented his family for making him this way.
He closed his eyes, thinking back to when he was alive. He could still smell the blood of his family's victims; could still feel the stone of the cave they used as shelter under his feet. In his mind, he saw the preparation table, sticky and red. The dirty rags on his body had been stolen from a corpse. A corpse his mother fed to him. It felt wrong. It had always felt wrong.
He knew his family was in Hell with him, or at least they had been at one point. There had been a time they'd sought him out, trying to reconnect in Cannibaltown. Shakespie abandoned them. He took a new name, created a new afterlife for himself, and never spoke to them again. They all eventually fell to the exorcists.
He couldn't help but wonder how things would have been different if he'd been in a normal family. Would he still have these cruel cravings? Is the desire for human flesh just so ingrained in his soul that he'd have ended up in Hell either way? Or would he have lived, died, and ended up in Heaven? Would he have met Elida? Would he have met Aerwyna?
Aerwyna.
Shakespie had been right; Cruci making people meet their soulmates, even knowing they could never be together, was cruel. It hurt more than getting shot had. He'd long since made peace with the reality of his existence. He had a successful business, a supportive community, and a wealthy estate. He made Hell work, even if it wasn't as blissful as Heaven sounded. But then Aerwyna comes along, and Shakespie is given the most beautiful reminder of what he can never have.
He wanted to see Atlantis. He wanted to lie with her on the beach. He wanted to hear her go on and on about her studies, and her friends, and the things that made her happy. He wanted to see the sun on her glowing face. Instead, all he had was the Grey Area. It was like needing water, but only being given a drop at a time. And yet, he wouldn't choose to forget her, even if he could.
If the hotel failed, and the exterminations returned, then statistically speaking, Shakespie was doomed. He might not be slain right away. He could continue on for decades, centuries, possibly even millennia if he was lucky. But it only took one bad day for everything to be over for good. Eventually, Shakespie's soul would be destroyed, just like all the other humans in Hell.
Would Aerwyna mourn him? Would he be able to watch over her from some incorporeal plane of existence? Would his consciousness continue on, formless and wandering for eternity, or would everything go black? In a thousand years, would she even remember his name?
Part of him wanted her to forget he existed. She could continue to swim through Heaven's seas, enjoying her well-deserved paradise. He could hold the memory of her as a comfort in the darkness, while she would be free to move on in peace. Creatures of light like her didn't need to be bothered with cannibals like him.
Unless…