TRIGGER WARNING: Well, potential. Putting it here just in case. THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS REFERENCES TO EMOTIONAL ABUSE!

Title Song: "Magnet and Steel" by Walter Egan

New York had its fair share of perverts and sickos. Tina was quite used to being waylaid by some weirdo looking for a good time.

Lately, however, they seemed to be popping up everywhere she went. To a point she couldn't go five feet without someone sexually harassing her.

It'd started as she was picking up her usual coffee, ready to work another long night at Bindy's Burlesque. She needed the energy after losing her gig at the comedy club. As she waited for her order, some random guy sauntered up to her and threw his arm around her.

"Hey there, beautiful," he whispered.

The brush of his skin against hers sent a jolt of warmth, but Tina ignored it. As if the overly friendly greeting wasn't off-putting enough, the guy looked like he could be in college. And his jacket was open, showing off his bare chest that was so shiny he'd either just had it waxed or had never grown hair there in the first place.

"Ahem." Tina subtly lifted his hand from her shoulder. "First of all, button that up. It's the middle of November. Secondly, does your mama know you're out past your curfew?"

The guy scoffed. "Funny. I like the ones with a sense of humor. Trust me, ma'am, I'm older than I look."

He reached out for her again, but she stepped back. "Look, kid." She didn't care if he was an adult, she was too hungover for this. "Let Auntie Tina teach ya a lesson in how to pick up women."

The barista called her name. She picked up her to-go cup with a smile.

"When she drops a hint that she ain't interested, take it."

She tried walking past him, but he snatched her wrist, making her skin warm again in a way that she hated. "The fuck's wrong with you, lady? You're supposed to be—YOW!"

Luckily, another patron had tripped, spilling her coffee all over the creep's exposed chest. This allowed Tina to wrench herself away, flipping him the bird on her way out.

As the month went on, other men like this came across her in the streets. Young looking, conventionally attractive, dressed in outfits not appropriate for late autumn. She'd brush them off, of course, but they'd always persist. Then something would make them stop, like the wind blowing their hats away, or a newspaper flying in their faces, or a crack in the pavement causing them to trip. If she hadn't stopped believing in a higher power ages ago, she would've thought a guardian angel was looking out for her. Or maybe it was just some convoluted form of karma.

Things started getting more bizarre during the week of Thanksgiving. Tourists would flock to New York for the Macy's parade, which meant business was booming at the club. During one of her Eartha Kitt numbers, a patron somehow made his way onstage. Before security could reach him, he stepped onto a loose floorboard and it flung into his face.

The incident was so shocking that Tina landed on her heel wrong and stumbled. Then, before she could hit the floor, she felt an arm around her middle pull her back up. But when she turned to thank her rescuer, all she saw was her shadow.

Even weirder was at the subway station the next night, she encountered a strange group of people who looked like they were going to a costume party of some sort. Two men and a woman, about four feet tall, covered in red body paint. Horns stuck out of their oversized wigs, red tails hanging from their trousers. They seemed to be arguing over the subway map, so Tina simply tried to ignore them as she waited for the train.

Until the tallest in the group tapped her on the shoulder. She turned, raising an eyebrow at his appearance. He must've been in a hurry to finish his makeup, because only one side was red, the other white. Unless that had been his intention. But now that he was up close, she noticed he didn't seem to have a nose or ears, which led her to believe this was a mask and not makeup.

She thought he'd be asking for directions, but instead, the little weirdo said, "Hey there, hottie. Did it hurt? When you fell from Heaven? Cuz I hear the fall to Hell hurts even more."

Tina blinked, not sure what to jab at first. His cheap costume, or that cheesy pickup line.

"Blitz!" The other costumed male called. "What are you doing? You said you were gonna for directions!"

"In a minute, Moxxie." Blitz waved a hand. Wait, does he only have eight fingers? "Yeah, my colleagues and I are out to off—I mean meet someone in a place called Washington Heights, but my daughter must've written down the wrong address or something, so what say you tell us which stop to get off and then I can get you off, eh?"

As if the line wasn't lame enough, he accompanied it with finger guns. Tina sighed and reached into her duffel bag.

"So," she said, pulling out her defenses, "ya want the pepper spray or the taser?"

That seemed to only excite the weirdo, as the pupils of his yellow eyes dilated. Are those contacts?

"Ah, packing heat. A woman after my own di—YUH! Mills!"

The woman of the group had come to Tina's rescue, taking the weirdo by the collar and dragging him away. "You can flirt with humans later. We got a job to do."

Fortunately, they didn't get on her train. Nonetheless, Tina couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. She looked around at the nearly empty car. At five in the morning, only a few people sat in the seats, likely coming back from their night shifts, or a night on the town. They all seemed too engrossed in their phones to take any notice of her.

Still, the prickles on the back of her neck remained. They'd been there on and off since her last night at the comedy club. Even when she was alone in her apartment, she thought she saw movement in the corner of her eye or heard chuckles too close to be from one of the surrounding apartments.

Or maybe she should cut down on the beer.

The Radio Demon knew his botched up curse was bound to cause trouble. Apparently, more demons came up to New York than he'd realized. Succubi looking to seduce humans for their sexual energy, infestor demons seeking negative emotions to feed from, imps who Alastor assumed were smugglers of Earthly goods.

As expected, if those demons, particularly the male ones, got within five feet of Tina Davis, they would be instantly drawn to her like moths to a flame. Most times, Alastor was able to drive them away. From tripping that human in the coffee shop to drench that succubus, to evaporating the nails on the floorboard that infestor demon happened to step on. Other times, Tina would hold her own, like with that group of imps in the subway station. Too bad he didn't get the chance to see her use that taser.

He had to say "Hell" of all things. Why couldn't he have cursed some other word? Like "fuck" or "shit?" The spell might not have had so strong an effect if he'd cursed in English. But no, he had to curse the one word in Creole that sent him into the biggest ethical dilemma of his life.

Fending off lovestruck demons wasn't supposed to be part of the job. If anything, he should be letting the curse run its course. Surely at some point, Tina would welcome one of these advances and soon find herself in an unhealthy relationship. Deal done, he could move on.

But these were demons. The cruelest, vilest, most despicable men in all Hell. On the off chance this firecracker of a woman decided not to taser these hellish assailants, she could very well end up dead. Or worse, dragged to Hell as a human sex slave. Yes, that was an unfortunate practice down there.

The biggest question was why the Radio Demon even cared what happened to this woman. He didn't know her. Despite following her every movement the past few weeks, he'd never spoken to her. She was just another human, another target, nobody of importance.

And yet, he was just as drawn to her as all the other male demons.

Ever since that fateful night in her apartment, he'd been consumed by thoughts of her. Not an hour would go by without him wondering what she was doing. If she was attracting another wandering demon. If one of them was harming her under the guise of infatuation. If she might actually like one of them.

He kept telling himself not to get involved any more than he already had. But every time one of those hellish wretches approached her, accosted her with their lustful requests, placed their disgusting claws on her, Alastor found it impossible to stand idly by and watch the altercation unfold. His mother had raised a gentleman, after all.

But his chivalric upbringing didn't explain his habit of hiding in the shadows of her workplace and apartment. Nor did it explain the pleasure he felt watching her perform onstage and then sleep soundly on the couch. This behavior wasn't gentlemanly at all and had nothing to do with his task of finding her an unsuitable partner.

He blamed it on the curse. There was no other reason he'd be spending so much of his free time stalking this woman. He'd never been this fixated on anyone, let alone one of his targets. It wasn't appropriate to be so obsessed with her soft, midnight black hair, her passionate yet exhausted eyes, the way her skin glowed under the club's spotlight…

"Something on your mind, Alastor?"

He blinked out of his daze. Rosie sat across from him, settling her teacup on the small table between them.

Alastor widened his grin to mask his brooding. "Simply lost in thought."

He sipped his coffee, then sputtered. Although the mug was full, the coffee was at room temperature.

"I can see that." Rosie pointed to the mug. "Never known you to let your coffee to go cold."

He conjured a flame in his palm to warm it up. "First time for everything, I suppose."

"No kidding." She scoffed. "This is the first time you've walked through my door in seven years."

"What can I say?" He narrowed his eyes. "When you give your pet away, he feels less inclined to stop by and say hello."

"You're not still sore about that, are you?"

He gripped the handle of his mug, not caring that it was overheating from the flame. Rosie sighed, looking almost regretful.

"Look, Alastor, you were my favorite, but you said so yourself you were getting bored with the Overlord biz. With Lilith as your owner, you have more opportunities, like that gig you have in the living world. I was doing you a favor."

By pawning me off to the Queen of Hell like a used toy.

Seven years ago, Lucifer and Lilith's lovers' tiff had created a divide between Hell's hierarchy. With the King and Queen on the brink of divorce, questions arose about who the rightful ruler of Hell would be. After all, they were both responsible for the plane's existence and equally influential. And so, the unholy powers, from the Overlords in the Pride Ring, to the Ars Goetian royals, to the Deadly Sins themselves, all started choosing sides, swearing their loyalty to one of the monarchs. Of course, neither Lucifer nor Lilith, not even their daughter Charlotte, had laid an official claim for the throne. Nor did they ever finalize their divorce. So for now, Hell's hierarchy remained in a cold, civil war, split between the King's and Queen's supporters, waiting for either monarch to make a move against the other.

Rosie, ever the feminist, had chosen to support Lilith. So, she had made a deal with the Queen to ensure that Cannibal Town remain a safe zone if war ever broke out. Of course, Rosie was smart enough not to give away her own soul as proof of her loyalty. That honor had gone to Alastor.

It was his own fault for selling his soul to Rosie in the first place, all because he'd wanted power and influence in the afterlife. Still, as much as he hated being shackled, Rosie had at least been discreet about their deal, enough slack on his chain for him to have his fun. Lilith, on the other hand, flaunted him around like a prize-winning show dog, not even hiding his leash. His name no longer instilled fear. He didn't attend Overlord meetings anymore, as they called him "Lilith's little lapdog," mocking him with barks. He'd almost smashed Vox's screen in when he'd jeered, "Does Rover want a doggy treat?"

Alastor might be able to forgive Rosie for all those decades of ordering him around and treating him like a pet, but he would never forgive her for giving him away. Especially without consulting him first. But he would take another few decades under Rosie's thrall if it meant he didn't have to deal with the demon magnet he'd unintentionally created.

"Rosie." He put down his mug. "Darling."

"Oh, pulling the darling card, are we?" Rosie smirked. "I know where this is going."

And yet, she waited for him to elaborate.

"I need a," Alastor said with a wince, "favor."

"Well!" She clapped her hands. "That's music that hasn't graced my ears in such a long, long time!"

There it was. The sweet yet taunting tone that had tormented him for decades. But it wouldn't be as tormenting as this curse of attraction.

He cut to the chase. "I need you to buy my soul back."

"Aw, Alastor, sweetie! You really have missed me!" She cupped her cheeks. "But a deal's a deal, I'm afraid. You belong to the Queen now."

Swallowing his pride, Alastor batted his lashes. "Please, Rosie?"

"Oh my!" She giggled. "I don't think I've ever heard you say please! Not without me ordering you to."

He got down on his knees. "I'm begging you, Rosie."

Her amusement melted into concern. "What's gotten into—?"

"I will do anything!" Crawling over like a lowly peasant, he tugged at her skirt. "I'll be your dog again! I'll let you dress me up in one of your lavish gowns! You can beat me senseless for all I care! I'll sit, stay, roll over, play dead! Just please, please get my soul away from Lilith!"

And get me away from that human before I do something rash!

This had to persuade Rosie. She loved it when he played the submissive servant. It was how he'd managed to get away with so much while under her command. Any minute now she would scratch his ears and say, "Of course, Alastor, honey. Only because you've been such a good little pet."

Instead, her response was a curt, "Okay, Al, get up."

He raised his head, finding Rosie's narrow, unimpressed gaze.

"Seeing you grovel like this was fun when I owned your soul, but now?" She cupped his chin. "This is just undignified."

She raised her palm, indicating for him to stand. He did so, utterly bewildered that his begging hadn't fazed her.

"You disappoint me, Al. I thought you had a little more self-respect than this."

His static crackled. "But you always—"

"That was when I was your superior. Now, Al, we are merely associates." Her expression softened as she looked him over. "When we first met, you were calculating, confident, with the darkest heart I'd ever seen, but you also had your dignity. I was kind enough to let you keep all that outside our private arrangement. Sure, I brought you to your knees when I felt like it, but the Radio Demon I know would never, never use begging tactics to negotiate a deal. Not without anyone pulling at his chain, that is."

She motioned for him to sit back down. "Is Lilith that much worse a mistress than me?" She giggled. "I find that hard to believe. Unless she's…"

Her grin dipped into a frown. "Oh. Oh, no. She's not…?" She touched her fingers to her lips. "Oh, Alastor. I…I figured being without Lucifer might make her…lonely, but I never thought she was capable of—"

Alastor rolled his eyes. "Lilith is not using me for sexual purposes."

She placed a hand over her chest. "Well, thank Satan for that at least." Even the leader of Cannibal Town was beneath that sort of torment. "But if that's not it, why are you so eager to go back to being my pet when you did nothing but whine and complain for eighty years?"

"It," he said, pretending to be interested in the cannibalistic carnage outside the window, "doesn't matter why."

"It does to me if you're subjecting me to this pathetic display. Come now, Al." She settled her hands into her lap. "Tell Auntie Rosie what's troubling you. For old time's sake."

One thing Alastor could always rely on Rosie for was her wisdom. Even with her as his superior, she'd established enough trust for him to confide in her. But that trust had been obliterated the moment she'd gifted his soul to Lilith. Not to mention botching up a spell that had made him annoyingly enamored with a human to the point he was playing guardian angel with her was too embarrassing for him to admit even to his own mother. The problem, however, was eating at him alive, so it might do him good to reveal some semblance of the truth before he went mad.

"I…" Alastor smoothed out his suit, which he'd wrinkled in his groveling. "It's about…a woman."

Rosie tilted her head. "Lilith?"

"No." Heat rose to his cheeks. "A…a different woman."

Upon seeing his blush, Rosie covered her mouth with a gasp. "Al-as-tor! Are you teasing me right now?"

His former owner, being a compulsive matchmaker, had pestered him about his romantic endeavors for years, before eventually realizing there weren't any endeavors to entertain. Alastor knew she would jump to this conclusion.

"It's not like that." He leaned his elbow on the armrest of his seat, settling his cheek on his fist. "She's…involved in a deal I recently made in Lilith's stead. I can't share the full details…" He certainly couldn't mention the woman on his mind was living. "But to make the long story short I…can't get her out of my mind."

Rosie's eyes widened. "Can't get her out of your mind…how? I thought you weren't keen on eating women's flesh."

"No, I would never…" He winced. "I…I don't wish to harm her. Her life's already Hell enough as it is."

She leaned forward in anticipation. "What do you want from her, Alastor?"

"Nothing," he said quickly, then thought about it. "What I mean is…I don't necessarily want anything from her, but rather I want…I want…"

What did he want? What reason did he have to follow her every move and scare off every spellbound demon who harassed her?

"I want to…end her suffering." Hearing how that sounded, he raised a palm. "Not kill her, but…protect her. Make her life more bearable, even if only a little. To see her…smile."

He'd seen Tina smile, of course. But every smile had been a performance to mask the misery brewing beneath. He of all people knew the difference between a fake smile and a genuine one.

And in all the weeks he'd been observing her, not once had he seen the latter.

He closed his eyes, picturing that woman's pretty face. What would she look like with a real smile? Would it make her skin glow? Would it bring life to those sad, brown eyes? Would she show off those pearly though slightly crooked whites?

"Yes," he muttered, forgetting Rosie was there for a moment. "A real smile. Just once."

Rosie beamed at his wistful expression. "Well, never thought I'd see the day."

"Hmm? What day?"

"The day the Big Bad Radio Demon fell in love."

Alastor's eyes snapped open as he straightened up. "Love?"

"Or at the very least infatuated." Rose leaned onto her palm. "By the sounds of things, you have yet to actually strike up a conversation with the girl."

"No." He shook his head. "You're mistaken. I don't… I've never…" He snarled. "I've been around for over a hundred years and never once been in…love."

She shrugged. "First time for everything, I suppose."

He hated when she turned his words against him. "Weren't you the one who said I was incapable of romantic feelings?"

"I said it was possible you were incapable. There are people who don't experience romantic or sexual feelings. Nowadays, they call that aromantic asexual." She picked up a finger sandwich to nibble on. "Of course, there are also people who only experience attraction after getting to know a person. Demiromantic or demisexual. If either of these terms apply to you, maybe the reason you've never felt more than friendship for anyone is because you've simply never met anyone who interested you that much."

Alastor dug his claws into the armrests of his seat. "I…I can't. As you guessed, I've never even spoken to the woman."

"That's an easy fix."

A chill ran up his spine. "What are you suggesting? I walk up to the woman and ask her to dinner?"

Rosie laughed. "That'd be a start. At least then you'd know whether these feelings are real or not. You certainly feel something if talking about this woman's got you blushing like a schoolboy."

Alastor covered his cheeks, which were hot to the touch. No, this couldn't be love. This was all because of that spell. He was just as affected as the other demons who encountered Tina.

There had to be a way to reverse it. He couldn't fulfill his duty if he was too enchanted by his target. But if he confided in Rosie about this, she'd question why he cast such a spell to begin with, and it wouldn't be long before she put the pieces together and realize he was talking about a human.

"Alastor." Rosie steadied her voice. "You've got nothing to be embarrassed about. Feelings like this are natural."

Not to me. Especially not when caused by a curse.

"This isn't about feelings." It definitely was. "The point is my work with Lilith forces me to be near her. And if I don't separate myself from her soon, I might…"

What? Every time Alastor thought of what he might do to Tina, shame overtook him. There were times he considered introducing himself, making a deal with her, though for what, he wasn't sure. Did he simply want to add her soul to his collection? That desire, he understood. But he could easily wait until she died to have her soul, and yet the more he thought about her, the more he wanted her there now. And no good could come from a feeling like that.

"I…I will only make her miserable."

He was, of course, referring to his deal to find someone else to make her miserable. Which he couldn't do as long as his blasted curse kept drawing him to her.

Rosie took this to mean something else entirely. "Oh, ho, you really have it bad for her, don't you?"

"I don't—"

"Al. Come now." She crossed her arms. "What's the real reason you're refusing to act on these feelings?"

"Because they don't exist," he stressed.

They were just side effects from a curse.

"Then why are you so willing to become my pet again to run away from them?"

Because I can't seem to stay away from her otherwise.

"Now, I'm not saying you need a partner to make you happy. I should know. I made all of mine miserable." She snorted. "But you shouldn't ignore these feelings just because you're scared. Who is this woman anyway?" It had to be someone closely associated with Lilith. "Another sinner under Lilith's thrall? A hellborn servant? Her daughter?"

That last one had been a joke, but when Alastor didn't answer right away, she gasped. "Is it the Princess?"

"No," he said through his teeth.

Charlotte Morningstar had been estranged from her parents ever since their falling out, spending her time on charity projects of all things. As a result, Alastor had yet to properly meet the girl.

"Then why do you act like being attracted to this woman would cause such a scandal?" She paused, then frowned. "She's not married, is she?"

"No."

"Boyfriend?"

"No."

"Lesbian?"

"No."

"Satan, not underage, I hope."

"No!" He scowled. "What sort of gentleman do you take me for?"

"Well," Rosie said, ignoring his question, "unless she's unavailable, there's no reason you shouldn't at least try to see if something can come out of courting her. What have you got to lose?"

If only she knew. While demons like succubi went above to seduce humans all the time, this was a human he was meant to hurt. If he didn't fulfill his agreement soon, Lilith might tear his soul apart.

Besides, even if he wanted to take Rosie's suggestion, what was he supposed to do? Materialize in front of Tina and go, "Hello, I'm a demon who cursed you to attract other demons, including myself. Want to grab a drink sometime?" What woman in her right mind would fall for a line like that?

"It's…more complicated than you think, Rosie."

She shrugged. "If love were that simple, people wouldn't write so many stories about it."

"I'm not in love." And yet, the static dropped from his voice. "I merely…pity the woman."

"Not too far a step away from affection."

"Forget it. I should've known this meeting would be unproductive." He stood and bowed stiffly. "Thank you for the coffee and finger sandwiches, Rosie."

She gestured to the full tray. "You didn't eat any."

He turned to leave. "Oh, and Rosie." His head twisted round. "If you tell anyone about our little conversation, bear in mind that you don't own my soul anymore. So," he said, his eyes and teeth glowing as a shadow overtook his face, "there is nothing stopping me from hurting you."

"Oh, Alastor." The room darkened as Rosie chuckled, her toothy grin moving to match his. "I'd love to see you try."

As much as Alastor dreaded it, there was only one being in Hell whose counsel he could seek about this matter. And that was the same being who owned his soul. No one had a greater knowledge of love spells than Lilith. That had to include how to reverse them.

So, Alastor approached the pristine white palace at the northern point of the Pentagram. This had been Lilith's home for the past seven years. The Radio Demon didn't know the cause of the King and Queen's falling out and had too much self-preservation to ask. Even the mere mention of Lucifer would set his mistress off. Alastor's neck was still sore from her last fit of rage. He'd picked up enough bits and pieces from their arguments to deduce it wasn't one simple incident, but several issues that had built up over the centuries. Of course, he wasn't as observant in matters of the heart as Rosie.

The imp butler escorted him to the greenhouse, which was filled with brightly colored flowers and trees, some of them snapping hungrily at Alastor as he passed by. By a pond of electric eels, Lilith sat poised in a lounge chair, reading a book, an appletini in one hand. She was dressed for the beach in a wide-brimmed white hat, sunglasses, and an eggplant one-piece swimsuit that exposed her shoulders . The sight irked Alastor.

This was what the Queen was so busy with that she had to send him to do her dirty work above? Catching up on her literature and sipping cocktails in a Hellish mockery of Eden? If he didn't know what this woman was capable of, he would be ripping her a new one.

As he approached, Lilith lowered her sunglasses, revealing her violet irises. A motherly smile crept up her face.

"Alastor." She flicked the sunglasses and book out of existence, a white beach cover appearing on her body as she rose with open arms. "What a pleasant surprise."

Even though Lilith was about half a foot shorter than Alastor, he shrunk at her advance. His ears drooped as she took him by the shoulders, kissing both his cheeks.

"And how's my favorite little boy?"

Her voice was like lemonade. Cool, refreshing, but laced with bitterness. Alastor gritted his teeth as the Queen ruffled his hair. Despite being over a hundred years old, she insisted on treating him like a child. Although he supposed being the first woman, everyone was like a child to her. Rosie had been the same with him. The motherly affection had been comforting, when he'd first made his deal with Rosie, the loss of his mother still fresh. But now, it was just patronizing.

He couldn't argue against it, of course. For Lilith was like a lioness. Beautiful, graceful, affectionate towards her cubs, but not a creature one wanted to aggravate.

"It's been a while since you've come to visit me out of your own volition." Her cold, clammy hand ran along his neck. "Normally, I have to drag you by the collar to get so much as a word in with you."

Alastor sighed. "Well, I have been preoccupied with my work, Your Majesty."

The work you so graciously bestowed upon me.

"And you've done such a good job of it." She pinched his cheek. "Oh, but look at you." She patted his ribs. "I swear, you're even skinnier than last time. Do I really keep you so busy that you forget to eat?"

She tsked, wagging a finger. "Honestly, Alastor. If I were your mother, I'd be scolding you."

But you're not my mother and you're still scolding me.

"Come, you must eat."

A marble table with two chairs appeared. Lilith took Alastor by the shoulders and sat him down before he could even think about protesting. As she seated herself across from him, two small plates and a bowl of fruit appeared. The one on top, which Lilith picked up and held out to him, was, unsurprisingly, an apple.

Alastor rolled his eyes as he accepted the fruit. "If I wasn't already damned."

Lilith giggled as he took a bite. "Admit you thought it was funny. And you need some produce in your diet anyway. What with all that red meat you consume. And raw, too. Honestly, I thought you said your mother taught you to cook."

He wasn't in the mood to defend himself or pretend he was having a good time. He'd subjected himself to this infantilization for a reason. And he was still exhausted from his recent plea with Rosie.

"Your Majesty—"

"Ah-ah." Lilith held up a finger.

Alastor shut his eyes and groaned. "Mistress."

His African ancestors were surely turning in their graves right now.

"That's better." Lilith leaned forward, placing her chin on her hands. "What can I do for you, sweet boy?"

He should consider himself lucky that Lilith didn't regard him as any more than a stand-in for the child that no longer lived with her. Other demons used their underlings to entertain more carnal fantasies. Still, why couldn't the woman just call her damn daughter and leave him out of her empty nest syndrome?

If nothing else, her maternal fondness for him, though misplaced, would make her as eager a listener as Rosie. "Mistress, I have a question regarding my…errands for you."

Lilith raised an eyebrow, then chuckled in her throat. "Don't tell me one of my followers has been giving my favorite boy trouble. Do I need to call their parents on them?"

"No." He narrowed his eyes at the insinuation he couldn't handle a client. "No, I…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "Lately I've been asked to…matchmake. Quite a bit."

"And romance isn't your area of expertise, I know." She reached over to pat his hand. "It's such a shame you haven't found someone after all this time." She stood, cupping his cheek. "What with this handsome, sweet face, that charming smile, sure to win any lady over. You sure you don't want me to introduce you to my daughter?"

Alastor drew his head back. "I'm not interested in—"

"You're right. You're a bit too…dark for her taste."

She was more likely referring to his sadistic nature than his heritage, but it still made his internal radio crackle. "Women do not—"

"Men, then? Hmm." Lilith rubbed her chin. "I know a Goetian prince in the middle of a divorce who might be up for—"

He slammed his fists on the table. "Can we get back on topic, please?"

Upon seeing Lilith's frown and the dark gleam in her eye, he instantly regretted his words, his ears falling back. Standing straight, she removed her cap, revealing her two, goat-like horns protruding from her head.

"Alastor." She tilted her head, the horns growing. "It's rude to interrupt your queen."

As the greenhouse darkened, Alastor hastened to his knees, hoping to placate the situation as he always had with both her and Rosie.

"I…I wasn't thinking." He bowed his head. "F-Forgive me, please."

A purple shackle appeared around his neck. A pull from the chain forced him to look up at the Queen of Hell. Her blonde, gossamer hair billowed in the wind, her eyes glowing a deep violet as she grinned.

"Please, what?"

He gulped. "Please, Mistress."

The horns shrank back into her skull, the atmosphere returning to normal as she hummed. "You're forgiven, sweet boy."

As she sat back down, Alastor thought he was off the hook, until she tugged on his chain, pulling his head onto her lap. Which was completely bare, as she was still in her swimsuit. His face flushed in embarrassment as she petted his hair.

If she were his actual mother, this action would've been welcomed.

"Now, what was this about your matchmaking business?" She scratched between his ears, making them curl inward. "I trust your work's been adequate, considering I haven't received any follow-up summoning."

He winced as she hit a sensitive spot between his antlers. Having his soul torn apart would be preferable to this, but he had to endure it to solve his problem.

"I… There's just so much I don't understand about the nature of love spells. And how…effective they might be."

He hoped this was enough to milk the information he wanted out of her without revealing the whole story. She can't know he messed up a spell so badly.

"What I mean is…are they permanent? And if so, is there a way to undo them?"

Lilith ceased her petting. "Why are you asking this?"

His breath hitched. "I, err, simply want to ensure I don't make any mistakes. In case I cast a spell on the wrong person or something. Or if I enchant one person to fall in love with another, but the other person doesn't feel the same. Would I have to put a spell on the other person too to make it work? That wouldn't be appropriate, would it? Forcing a person to fall in love?"

By Satan, his nerves were causing him to ramble. But he was genuinely curious. Especially if a situation arose where he'd have to cast a spell of this nature again. And what if one of those vile demons ended up harming Tina due to their misplaced affections?

Lilith took him by the cheeks, raising his face towards her. Her expression was stark.

"First of all, my pet, no spell exists that can make a person fall in love."

This statement shocked him. "But…humans call on you to perform love spells all the time."

"See, people call them love spells, but what they encourage is rather," she said, rolling her wrist, "lust. Or infatuation. Such sensations are fleeting, artificial."

She released Alastor's face as a vine of roses stretched into view. Plucking one rose, she held it out to him.

"Love is too abstract, too complicated," she said, poking at the flower's thorns, "dependent on too many external and internal factors that it cannot be fabricated by simple magic." Bringing the rose to her face, she inhaled. "Holy or unholy."

Sorrow flashed in her eyes as her finger traced the petals. "If such a spell were possible, it would've been cast at the beginning of time and made things easier."

Obviously, she was referring to herself and Adam, the man she'd originally been made for. Alastor hadn't considered the possibility of Heaven making Lilith and Adam love each other. But he supposed if it were possible, humans would still be living in a perfect paradise.

So, the Radio Demon's curse on Tina hadn't created love, only infatuation. That offered some relief. It meant what he felt wasn't real and he would forget about it in time.

"Then the humans who call on you for love spells," he said, "they don't receive the true love they crave for."

The thought made him scoff. The way humans chased after love truly was a joke.

"Now." Lilith leaned back in her seat. "I wouldn't exactly say that."

Thinking she was done with his hair, Alastor lifted his head from her lap. "How do you mean?"

She picked more roses from the vine. "How have you been finding matches for my followers?"

He shrugged. "I find someone around their age, no violent history, decent manners, and then make it so they meet."

She smirked. "I operate in a similar manner. Only I dig a little deeper and see if my potential matches share any common interests. Not like a complete copy of the other person, but enough so they can strike up a conversation. Then I cast a spell to spark an interest that may or may not eventually lead to real love."

He cocked his head. "What's the difference? Between real love and a love spell?

A foam bouquet materialized on the table, in which Lilith began inserting her newly picked roses. "Real love has to do with one's appreciation and understanding of a person. The spells I cast are merely icing to draw people into the cake."

Alastor blinked, wondering what cake had to do with this. Lilith sighed, then spoke slowly, as if she were giving the sex talk to a teenager.

"Let me try this another way. A love spell is like…" She twirled her hands, searching for the right words. "An outfit."

Another blink. "I'm not following."

"Picture this." Purple smoke swirled from her hands, forming the silhouettes of two people to illustrate her point. "You're walking down the street, you see a person in a gorgeous outfit."

Alastor watched as the smoky form of a man came across the smoky form of a woman in a ballgown.

"The outfit entices you to look at the person." The smoky man waved at the smoky woman. "You find it looks good on them. You might even be inclined to compliment them on it."

"I suppose." Alastor complimented people on their outfits all the time, never thinking much about it.

"But chances are the conversation will end there, and you'll go about your day as normal, not thinking about that encounter again." The smoky man disappeared. "But if you take the time to learn more about the person," she said, summoning the smoky man again, who now held the smoky woman's hand, "you'll find it's no longer the outfit you're interested in, but themselves."

The smoke evaporated. Although Lilith was smiling, there was a sense of forlornness in her gaze.

"You see, my pet, all a love spell does is grab someone's attention. Any feelings that develop as a result will depend on the people involved. After all, love spells hardly last more than a few hours."

Panic coursed through Alastor's veins. "Pardon? They only last…how long?"

"A few hours, depending on the strength of the spell. A day, at most."

Suddenly, Lilith's wrath was the least of his worries. "I-Is it possible a love spell could affect someone for…longer? A week? A month?"

Lilith snorted. "Considering I've yet to see a love spell stronger than mine, I doubt it." Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why do you ask?"

Shit. He quickly thought up an excuse.

"I-I just want to be properly educated. In case my clients are curious, of course. Like when a doctor prescribes pills, you have to know the potential side effects."

She seemed to buy it, as she shrugged. "As I said, love spells are designed only to catch a person's attention. They're not permanent."

He laid his hand over his chest. "And…after the spell wears off? What then?"

"It depends."

He clutched at the place where his heart pounded with intensity. "On what?"

Lilith rearranged her roses. "If the enchanted person is still interested in the other."

His claws pierced through the fabric of his shirt, threatening to rip out that blasted, beating organ and crush it in his palm. "And…if they are?"

The answer was just as Alastor had feared. "Then the interest becomes genuine."

Like I said, this chapter underwent heavy rewrites as I was forced to COMPLETELY rethink the dynamic between Alastor and Rosie. Just as well, because I think the scene with her here ended up becoming MUCH more interesting.

So, obviously, we've got almost ZIP on what Lilith is like as a character. While she kind of takes on the role of Aphrodite for this myth re-imagining, my interpretation of her was like a cross between Poison Ivy and Morticia Addams. I definitely toned down on the perky aspects I gave her in the first draft when I realized I was making her a bit too similar to Rosie.