Chapter Text
YOU OUGHTA KNOW
Lucifer waited until he could hear the start of Alastor’s radio show to make the call to Ozzie.
These days, Alastor’s shadow didn’t bother to watch him anymore that he was aware of. It hadn’t in years. Well…not all the time anyway. If he was having a truly bad downturn (which of course he still had and would likely continue to have until the end of his bizarre existence) then he would be aware of the shadow watching over him. It paid attention to things like agitation and raised voices...changes in healthy routines, but since Lucifer had been in a relatively good mood all day, he assumed the creature would be with its master. He hoped.
He supposed he could have locked the little beast out, but that would have been more suspicious than simply…not drawing its attention. The Radio Demon was an absolute bloodhound if he smelled trouble with his husband or son and Lucifer wasn’t interested in stirring up trouble. Not tonight.
He sat on his bed and fiddled absently with his phone. He stared at the screen and tapped at the case with his claws. His eyes darted back to the locked door and then back down to the phone.
The King sighed and finally unlocked his phone, flipping open his contacts and scrolling until he found Ozzie (his profile photo was a delightful picture of a rubber duck with a rooster’s comb). Lucifer let his finger hover before pulling the ripcord and dialing. The ringtone sounded too loud to his oversensitive ears and he almost panicked and slammed the phone into the blankets before the call could go through. He made himself hold firm. Ozzie needed to know what had happened.
The little blonde breathed in…out…and held the phone to his ear as the ringtone cut and his friend’s warm voice filled his ear, “Hey, babe.”
He didn’t sound happy.
Lucifer blinked and stood to walk over to the window, “Oz, is everything okay?”
“...We might have a problem. I was just figuring out how to tell you.”
The King pinched his sinuses and felt his stomach dropping, “...Show me yours and I’ll show you mine?”
The weak attempt at innuendo earned only a small snort and the Sin sounded like he was moving into another room, “...Look, do you wanna come over? I don’t think we wanna have this conversation over the phone. Your radio dude…” he left off.
Lucifer blinked and cocked his head even though his friend couldn’t see it, “What about Alastor?”
“Luci. Babe. Phones use radio waves. That dude could 100% listen in if he really wanted to,” Oz told him and the Devil startled, holding the phone away from himself like Alastor could suddenly see him through it.
Fuck, really?
The silence rolled out between them before Ozzie sighed, “Come on through, Luci. We need to talk face-to-face. We’re having a late dinner. Fizz and I think we need to talk about this as a family…Mal included.”
Hearing that Ozzie and Fizz included him as part of their ‘family’ felt…good.
It calmed Lucifer enough to make his mind up at any rate. Alastor was broadcasting and Benedict was otherwise engaged for the evening, so no one would really miss him if he popped off for an hour or two to take care of his other baby. Ever since his son had gotten more independent…more like his father…Lucifer had started slipping away from time to time just to remember what it felt like to be unfettered. He didn’t resent his son at all…barely resented his husband anymore either, but he’d spent so many years tied that it was nice to recall the feeling of selfish freedom.
In the days after the Fall but before Humans had started coming down in droves, he’d had that freedom. He and Lilith would move from ring to ring as easy as breathing, visiting friends and building new things. There was nothing yet to really mind in the Pride Ring…nothing to watch over. The whole ring had been asleep for want of a better word. Not to mention he’d recovered enough from the Fall to really enjoy what he, his Sins, and his wife had built for themselves.
But then the Humans started coming and his duties became greater.
The Humans started coming and they just didn’t stop coming until stealing time away was impossible.
The Humans kept coming, full of their horrible sins and wicked choices and growing worse once they reached his domain. After all, what punishment was there for them anymore? They were dead. The only thing left was obliteration and Lucifer had no desire to do that himself. He hated the Sinners for perverting the final gift he’d been able to give, but felt guilt over them in equal measure. After all, he’d reasoned, everything they’d done in life all came right back to him in the end.
He was the First Great Enabler.
Duty had been the first link in the chain that bound him.
Then he’d become a father and how could he ever dream of leaving his little girl? Even if he was too sick to see her…to give her the time she deserved…he couldn’t bear to leave the Ring. She was the second link, but one he cherished.
After that Lili had gone. Grief was the third link in the lengthening chain. It was quickly followed by Illness as he withdrew further and further.
Then…just as he was starting to heal and emerge again, he’d wound up on his back in another man’s bed and full of child. The Deal, the Baby, his Husband…all binding him right here in place and staked to the ground for nearly 18 more years.
So he took pleasure now in just sometimes…vanishing for a few hours to visit one of his Sins or Stolas. It gave him a little thrill to not ask for permission or clear it with anyone…to just go . No compromises or long talks, just him willing a portal into existence and stepping through so he was standing right there in Ozzie’s lovely living room surrounded by the sounds of lively chaos that usually occupied the space now that there were three energetic artists all living side by side.
However….
“Ozzie? Why does it smell like something’s burning?” Lucifer asked, sniffing at the air.\
The Sin’s head popped out from around the kitchen doorway, sighing, “Mal’s amp blew and he’s been in there trying to rebuild it all day. I keep saying that damn thing’s gonna burn the tower down and he should just let me buy him a new one but kid’s determined to do it himself.”
Then Oz lifted his head and called deeper into the house, “Wonder who he got that from?”
FizzaRolli snorted right back at him from where he was seated, half lost in the oversize couch, “Don’t you start with me, buddy. That’s all Blitz and his anti-elitist bullshit. Hey, Luci.”
“Hi Fizz, you look good. Where’s Mal?”
“He’s cleaning up. I told him if he got grease on my kitchen table one more time…” Fizz grumbled, “So we’ve got a few minutes to talk before he comes back.”
Oz’s voice followed, a warm wave from the kitchen bolstered by the homey scent of cooking food, “Yeah, I was just getting ready to call you when you got to me first. What happened?”
Feeling his nerves roll back in, Lucifer resisted the urge to grip himself. He’d made the mistake of letting Charlie catch him doing it after a nasty fight with Benny and she’d been horrified when she saw the blood. So now she was…gently coaching him out of it. He wasn’t always successful in stopping it, but he didn’t want her to have to worry about him so there you had it.
“Well,” he began, “I think Benny met Mal at a party a week ago. In Gluttony.”
“Looks like we have the same problem then,” Fizz chirped, leaping up to perch on the back of the couch so he could see both of the other men, “Mal’s been talking non-stop about a guy he met at his birthday party a week ago. It’s Benedict, toes-to-nose if his description is accurate.”
“Does…does Mal have any idea…” Lucifer asked weakly.
Ozzie cut him off at the pass with a head shake, “No clue. He knows the guy is important, but said he has no idea why. I’m guessing Benny didn’t tell him who he was outside of his name.”
“That sounds like Ben. Well, he knows who Mal is…just no idea they’re…” the Devil gestured vaguely.
“Soooooo…what do we even say, here?” Fizz finally questioned, getting to the heart of the issue, “Because we’ve gotta say something. Mal’s got like…a whole life. If we put him on lockdown it’d be punishing him for no reason. But we also can’t just…not say anything ‘cuz I get the feeling they’re gonna keep talking and if they figure shit out before we have time to do damage control….”
Lucifer swallowed, “...If Ben finds out, he will tell his father. He absolutely idolizes that man. And if Alastor finds out…”
“That ain’t gonna happen, Luci, don’t worry. Look, here’s what I think,” Oz said soothingly, moving things off of burners so he could come out and lay a big hand against his smaller friend’s narrow back, “We’ve always been open with Mal. He knows about you, he knows who you are, and he knows why he’s with us. I think it’s time to tell him all of it. That way, if he and Benny keep being friendly, he won’t slip.”
“So…asking him to help keep the secret? That feels…that feels a lot like involving him in my shitty life choices,” the Devil mumbled.
But was it really anything he hadn’t already done to the kid?
Fuck, he’d kept quiet that he was a secret Morningstar since he was thirteen. That had been a whole different can of worms. Pride’s broadcasts didn’t usually make it here, so most of the gossip rags and news stayed right there in Lucifer’s ring…but hiding that you were the King of all the Rings was a great deal harder.
Well done and gold stars for you, Morningstar , Lucifer thought bitterly.
“I just think we should consider it. Fizz and I really hate lying to Mallory. I know you’ve gotta keep it away from Benny for some very big, red, grinning reasons, but…” Ozzie waffled, looking uncomfortable about the idea that Lucifer might force him to be dishonest with his son.
Lucifer was about to open his mouth to reply when an excited voice suddenly cut through their conversation, “Mom? Mom! Mom, you’re here!”
And then Mallory was on him, smothering him in a big hug and rubbing his cheek against Lucifer’s golden hair like a kitten. His black tail was waving back and forth and he looked like he was getting a second birthday by having his mother here. He’d…definitely inherited Lucifer’s sensibilities regarding physical affection and personal space (which was to say he was incredibly touchy-feely and had no concept of the latter). At least, unlike his other two children, Mal only had a bare inch on him so he didn’t tower over his mother.
“Why are you here?! You already came for my birthday visit! I mean, like, I’m super happy you’re here! I don’t mean that like ‘Grrr, why are you here’, but more like -.” The red-headed prince was babbling.
“Breathe, kiddo,” Fizz chuckled from his spot on the back of the couch.
Mal did and relaxed his hug just a bit, though he didn’t let his mother go. Lucifer was just fucking fine with that, thank you. He had to be so careful about physical affection with Benedict that this was amazing.
“Your dads invited me over for dinner, Mal. We just kind of wanted some family time, you know?” Lucifer said.
“And,” Oz added tentatively, “We’ve gotta talk about something…”
The middle Morningstar’s face did something…funny. Like he was very quickly guilty about something and then trying really hard to cover up any signs of it. It looked a bit like a spasm (and also exactly like the faces Lucifer made when Charlie was upset with him about something).
“....Oh shit, is this about the Tyler thing?” Mal groaned.
“Wait, that trashy guy from Greed?” Fizz interjected, eyes narrowing.
“What ‘Tyler thing’? Who’s Tyler?” Lucifer was staring as Mal realized he might have gotten himself in trouble.
“So…this isn’t about the Tyler thing…?” the youth said, meekly digging a hoof against the tile.
“Mmmmmm, well now it might be. You know I don’t like you bein’ around that gangly asshole, but…no. For now we just have something we all need to talk about, kiddo. Go grab a seat at the table and settle in,” Ozzie said, adding ‘the Tyler thing’ into a mental list of things he’d definitely be talking to his son about.
Reluctantly, Mallory let his mother go after taking a quick scent of his hair (a trait likely inherited from his father, no doubt) and trotted over to the table.
The adults worked on getting everything set out and only once everyone was seated and had food in front of them did the conversation begin. It was a nice, balanced meal like Oz usually insisted on having for the sake of his son and a partner who didn’t always have the best relationship with his body. However, he pointedly didn’t say anything when Lucifer delicately avoided the meat. He always had. It made being married to a cannibal particularly bizarre.
“Soooo…what am I in trouble for?” Mal said, pushing his food around and clearly a bit too nervous to eat.
Hell, they’d brought his mom in so it was probably bad.
“Mal, sweetheart, you’re not in trouble…” Lucifer started.
“For this,” Ozzie added, giving his son a pointed look.
“...For this,” the Devil amended and made himself smile fondly to get the poor, hyper kid to actually relax a bit. They couldn’t both be nervous wrecks for this.
“So then…what do we need to talk about?” the red-head asked, taking a slow bite of food and watching the adults carefully.
Lucifer felt himself tapping his own fork and set it down to avoid the maddening tick-tick-tick sound it was making, “I think I’m going to start at the beginning. Sweetheart, you know I gave you up when you were born because things were…hard. I couldn’t have given you the life your fathers have.”
Mal nodded and waited, knowing this was just the prelude.
His mother took a bracing sip of the wine next to his plate and threaded his fingers together to stop their nervous twitching, “Well…I never told you exactly why I had to. It was a big subject and not one you were old enough for…especially not when I was coming to visit for your birthdays.”
“I know it was hard. I really don’t blame you, mom! I get it,” Mal hastened to reassure Lucifer, smiling wide to show him it really was okay.
Fuck, that sweet smile was an arrow to Lucifer’s tender heart.
He took a breath and smiled back, softer, “I know and you have no idea how grateful I am for that. But, you need to know all of this to understand what I’m going to tell you next.”
“I wasn’t…” the King stared and then walked it back, “I’m not always well. Sometimes, I’m very, very, very sick. I’m extremely old and I’ve lived through extremely bad things…and sometimes my head…my mind goes to terrible places. Right before you were born, I was in one of those terrible places. I stopped eating. I was terrified of your biological father. You actually ended up being born too early because I made myself so sick.”
“Mom…” Mal reached out for his hand and Lucifer let him take it.
“I’m fine right now, duckling, really. I have been for most of your life. But back then…back then I was a wreck and I was positive I couldn’t take care of you. There was…there was another reason I felt like I had to do it…” he murmured.
“...Was my bio-dad violent with you or something?” Mal actually looked a little mad at that, steam rising slightly off his shoulders.
Lucifer blinked, “No! Goodness no. Your biological father has never once hit me. But…he’d also never been a father before and he has some… interesting personality traits. I was so scared if you were left with me I’d get badly sick again and he’d end up overwhelmed…”
Asmodeus gave Fizz a little ‘look’ at the mention of Alastor, but kept carefully to the background so mother and son could have an honest discussion.
“But…you said you were scared of him…?”
The Devil’s mouth twisted slightly at memories nearly two decades old now, “...Part of that was paranoia. Sometimes my mind feeds me all the terrible things that could happen to a point where it feels like they’re actually happening. However…your father can also be…a difficult man to be around.”
Mal was rapt. His mom usually didn’t like talking about his biological dad, so this was brand new information. His fathers really didn’t like him even though they didn’t talk about him much either. All the heir of Lust had ever known was that there were complications around his father and that he was a touchy subject in the household.
“He can be very manipulative when the mood strikes him, and I’d never say this to his stupid, smug face…but he’s probably smarter than me. I can get a little emotional and sometimes it makes me easy to lead around by the nose when I’m all worked up. Pretty early on in my pregnancy, we weren’t doing well and I was worried about how he’d act with kids in our life,” Lucifer explained, “...Then by the time you were here I was so sick and so convinced that everything about us was unsustainable that I…I sent you away.”
“Which…well…leads me up to the thing I need to tell you,” the Fallen finally whispered, torn between staring at his little boy and not looking at him at all.
Lucifer could feel Ozzie’s encouraging look and finally ripped the band-aid off after seventeen years, “...I was too sick and unstable to take care of two children. I wanted you both to have an opportunity at a happy life. I made the decision to send you away to your fathers and…and I kept your brother. Your twin brother.”
Mallory’s bright eyes flared wide and he fumbled his cup, setting it down hard to avoid dropping it entirely.
He’d always known he was adopted. That wasn’t a big deal to him because they’d never made it a big deal. He’d learned later that his mother was the King of Hell, but that was also fine and he never really cared about ruling anything anyway. Hell, he barely even cared about maybe one day stepping up to rule Lust. The news had been more exciting than anything else. But…he had a brother out there? Someone who had been born at the same time as him, grown up the same time he did…a twin?
The table was quiet, but he wasn’t aware of the time stretching out.
Mallory was barely aware of the eyes on him, everyone waiting to see how he’d take the news.
It was big .
At first he felt so out of his depth. He’d gone through seventeen years of life without ever knowing there was someone out there who was half of him. He thought it made him sad at first…he wasn’t sad that often, so it was a novel feeling. He’d always craved attention and company…thrived on the feeling of other people near him and voices constantly in his ear. Was that because he’d somehow known that someone else was missing? Someone he should have had?
His mostly-red eyes flicked over to his mother and saw the tight lines of his face.
Any traces of negative emotion flooded out of him immediately.
The weight of knowing what his mother had endured and the choices he’d made was already rapidly overbearing the heaviness of not knowing his brother. His mom had always done right by him…sent him presents even before Mal had ever gotten to meet him…loving birthday cards. After they were around each other again, his mother had always been so kind to him, full of hugs and love and outright adoration. Would Mallory have ever gotten that kind of attention and affection if his mom hadn’t made the choice to give him up for adoption? Would he have ever had the love from his fathers? Shit, he realized, he didn’t even know if his mom would be healthy if he’d been kept with his brother…
Suddenly, he realized he was being stared at and he blinked just like his mother, “So uh…can I meet him?”
The tension left Lucifer in a rush and he nearly choked on his own relief.
Fizz stepped in, giving the King time to collect himself, “Well…the whole point of this little talk is we think you already have.”
“Wait, what?!” Mal yelped in surprise, whipping his head around to stare hard at his dad.
“Sooooo, last week when your Auntie B had that birthday party for you in Gluttony. You came back talking about this new friend you made. We didn’t think about it at first. Kid, you could make friends with a fencepost if we left you to it,” the Imp said and then continued, “Then you sent him a letter and there was your phone call today and uh…”
Mallory went still.
He didn’t twitch.
His whole body was frozen.
Ozzie raised an eyebrow and leaned towards him, “Mal, baby? You gonna be okay…?”
And then, much to everyone’s surprise, Mallory nearly fell out of his chair with laughter. The sound practically tore out of him and he kicked his hooves under the table. The redhead had to cover his eyes, all of his teeth on display while he howled in mirth. The adults couldn’t figure it out. Lucifer was relatively sure he’d just driven his kid insane with the news. Yup. This was a manic break. Shit.
Finally, Mal was able to wheeze in a breath and there were little tears of genuine amusement at the corners of his eyes while he continued to snort around the words, “Wait, the fuckin’ narc is my brother? Oh that cheeky fuck!”
“Language, kiddo,” Ozzie said, still confused but glad Mal didn’t seem to be upset.
“No, no no! This is like…hilarious. Because like…he was all…you could say we’re relatively important and…” he broke into fresh peals of laughter, “And the bastard is dancing around being a Morningstar . Playing all mysterious like…”
Then he lost his breath again to giggles.
Lucifer wondered how any kid that came from his absolutely tragic genetics could handle news like this with such genuine nonchalance and even levity. Hopefully it was a sign that all he’d handed down to his baby was optimism and not any of his absolutely staggering mental illnesses.
“I can’t wait to tell that idiot that I figured out his seeeecret,” Mal sing-songed and gave his hooves a little kick again.
“Well, hold on there champ…” Ozzie gently placed a big hand over one of Mal’s and tried to calm him down.
Lucifer winced and Fizz gave him a sympathetic look.
“What’s wrong?” Mal asked, heaving in breath while he tried to recover from his laughing fit, noticing that his father had gone all serious in that soft way of his.
“Here’s the part where you hate me, duckling,” the Devil said in an almost-whisper, “I don’t…you can’t…I need you to do me a favor. Please don’t tell Benedict the truth.”
Mal’s brows drew together, concern starting to eat away at his good mood like a slow paraside, “But…why? It feels amazing to know I’ve got a twin and he’s actually fun to be around. Why can’t we let him know too?”
Guilt clouded Lucifer’s face and he hid his mouth behind his wine glass.
“Benny’s situation is a little more complicated than yours, kiddo,” the Sin of Lust said soothingly, “See…your birth father doesn’t know you exist . Had to be that way to make sure you could get to us safe and sound. I know it doesn’t seem fair, but if Benny knows…”
“His father… your father…could find out,” Fizz finished, giving Lucifer space to sort his head out.
“...My birth father doesn’t even know about me?”
“It…” the Devil said, “it wasn’t a mutual decision. I made the choice. Not him. He’s possessive. He never would have let you go and I couldn’t…I wouldn’t have been able to fight him on it.”
“Mom…”
“Please forgive me,” his mother said quietly, not looking at him.
Mallory shook his head and said instead, “...Are you sure you’re not scared of my bio-dad?”
“Your father and I…we have a complicated marriage, duckling. We’re distant, but he’s respectful…and he really is an excellent father. I didn’t think he would be, but he is. He’s not a good man, but he’s an exceptional parent. I think if he knew that I’d taken you away from him, he’d never forgive me,” the Fallen finally raised his head up from where he’d been staring at the table to avoid everyone’s eyes, “I don’t trust him. Sometimes I barely like him…but I don’t want to hurt him. Not like this.”
That was…tangled. Mallory frowned, trying to sort that all out. It was hard for him to imagine two parents who didn’t like each other. Sure, he’d seen abusive partners before, but they were more of a theory. This was his actual life and this was radically different from his fathers who were open and honest and above all else adored each other. That his sweet, soft mother lived his days with a husband he kept at arm’s length… that part was sad.
“So…did you ever love my birth dad?” Mal asked, trying to wrap his head around it.
“...I was fond of him for a while, I think,” the Devil said, eyes looking far away as his mind supplied the brief image of a chair in front of a fire…a place that had been his once.
“Why get married at all then? Why have kids?”
Lucifer felt heavy. His poor son…raised in a household full of romance and emotional comfort and so, so unaware of the horrors people could visit upon each other. He didn’t regret sending him here. Pride would have eaten him alive.
Ozzie sucked in a breath, but he didn’t need to worry. The deal that had gotten Lucifer here with two children and a husband would never be spoken of again. It was his and Alastor’s secret to take into eternity. None of his children would ever learn of it, especially not Charlie. There were other answers he could give that were honest while saving them from that particular awful truth.
“Oh, a lot of reasons, duckling,” Lucifer told him, “Your father and I fell into bed together the night before an absolutely terrible battle that very nearly ended him. By the time he’d recovered, we found out I was pregnant and just...existed together. After you were both born, we had to get married to legitimize Benedict. Heaven gets weird about random heirs to the kingdom just wandering around and I have a bad enough history with them that I wasn’t looking to start problems. I just wanted peace and quiet with my family and didn’t want anyone to go looking for you, so…a political marriage it was. It works, and sometimes that’s all you can ask for.”
Mal thought his mom deserved a lot more than just a political marriage he tolerated but from the way all three of his parents looked so accepting of it, he realized this was just one of those things that made him less and less eager to ever have any position of power.
Not if it led to sad marriages with men you only sometimes liked.
“So…” Mallory said quietly, playing with the rim of his glass, “I can’t tell Benny he’s my brother because it could get back to my birth dad.”
“Afraid so, kiddo. I know it’s not fair,” Ozzie told him kindly.
“...Can I at least still be friends with him? He makes me laugh,” Mal sounded like a kicked puppy, like he really would stop talking to Benedict if they asked him to but he hated the idea.
“Of course you can!” Fizz said firmly, tapping a mechanical hand on the table, “That’s part of why we told you! We just didn’t want you to find out on accident, is all. We know that keeping the secret is going to suck, but we definitely didn’t want to separate you two if you were getting along, y’know? It’s a messed up situation, but you don’t deserve to be punished for adult stuff being all weird .”
Mal thought about it and then nodded like that was all it took to make his mind up, “Okay.”
Then he turned a big smile on his mom, “Really, it’s okay! I don’t understand some of this stuff, but I’m not mad about it. I know it probably wasn’t easy to tell me any of that, but thanks. Being the King has to suck big time. Like…even little every day mistakes get big like this, huh? I’d be a shitty king. I mess up all the time. So…y’know…I don’t hold it against you. Screw-ups gotta stick together, right?”
He reclaimed his hand from his father and leaned across the table towards his mother, hand extended and one pinky up.
Lucifer’s poor, sweet, easygoing little boy. He saw the world in black and white, but in such a different, skewed way compared to his Angelic kin. Things were either Okay or Not Okay in his eyes…Good or Bad, but what determined those things could be totally random or based more on shades of grey than even Mallory recognized in himself. It was Okay that his mother lied to him because he hadn’t meant anything bad by it and Mal knew what it meant to make mistakes. The situation with his brother was Okay because he still got to talk to him. Mal’s mother was Good for the simple fact that he loved him.
The Devil reached out and hooked his pinky, “Screw-ups stick together. You know I love you so much, right Mal?”
“Sure I do!” His firstborn chirped like that had never even been a question in his mind.
“Speaking of screw-ups,” Asmodeus hummed, finally digging back into dinner now that the most difficult part of the evening was over and done with, “Tell me about ‘The Tyler thing’.”
****** ****** ******
GLORY AND GORE
“Mother is occupied for the evening?”
Alastor stood surveying Pentagram City from the lofty heights of his Radio Tower, beloved son at his side, “Hmm, he’s with your sister. I suggested a movie night for the two of them since they’ve both been so busy lately.”
A movie night meant that Lucifer would respectfully not seek either of them out to join, since he was well aware of their mutual distaste for television. Alastor had no love for it before and after the birth of his child, he’d endeavored to keep Benedict away from it as much as possible to avoid Vox getting eyes on his son when their guard was down. An evening with his beloved daughter would keep them both occupied, giving the consort and his son time to work.
Alastor knew perfectly well that Lucifer was aware of the fact he’d initiated Benedict into the darker aspects of controlling Pride. The Radio Demon hadn’t made any bones about the times he took their son to the Bayou to learn to hunt. However, that didn’t mean he had to flaunt it in his doe’s face. Lucifer barely ate meat, let alone enjoying the fact that his son had grown more into Alastor’s ways than his own. It was rather like craving a cigarette around a partner who had no love for them…if you had to indulge, you did it a respectful distance away from them.
The Sinner prided himself on keeping at least an amicable relationship with his husband.
Hell, seventeen years in and Lucifer wasn’t even trying to duck out of plans for their wedding anniversary later this week, which was certainly progress. It was just a lovely little dinner at a relatively private wine bar that hosted an impeccable jazz quartet, but even getting his husband to agree to that much on their anniversary was like pulling teeth. Alastor knew better than to plan anything more private. Considering the panic attack in their marital bed (the last time they'd shared a bed at all, mind), such a thing would have been entirely insensitive.
“And where are we working?” Benedict asked, pulling him back from woolgathering.
Alastor tapped the glass with a gloved finger over one of the Pentagram’s dividing lines, “Just here. This is the demarcation between what is officially the Vee’s territory and Miss Cherri Bomb’s. She isn’t officially recognized as an Overlord, so they’re probing…seeing what they can annex on the way to Carmilla Carmine’s. Now then…can you tell me why we might be stepping in on behalf of a woman who is not an Overlord, my boy?”
Benny thought about it, his body still while he calculated.
Finally, he said, “Connections.”
“Explain your math, son.”
“Simple. Miss Cherri is an ally of the Hotel and annexing her territory potentially cripples a supporting power. If we intercede, it tells Pentagram City that loyal alliances with the royal family offer strong protection.”
“Good. What else?” Alastor coached.
“Protecting Cherri’s territory on her behalf keeps Carmilla from having to publicly defend her own territory if the Vees succeed. Carmine Industries being forced to take action might cause unpredictable power struggles. It’s more of a polarizing political statement than members of the Hotel protecting one of their own,” Benedict answered.
“Full marks,” his father crooned, “And it has the added bonus of keeping Carmilla Carmine rather more fond of us than not. Remember, dear boy, the crown is only as strong as the allies who respect it.”
Benedict nodded and Alastor felt a swell of pride, “Now then, are your tools in order?”
“Yes, sir,” his son replied, very slightly lifting the hem of his waistcoat to show the edge of the knife harness he wore beneath.
Such a delight that his child knew the value of dressing well for a hunting trip and had taken to the knife. He was an artist with them, really.
“Very good. And recite for me the plan?”
“Vox will be making his move tonight, sending people in to sabotage one of Cherri’s production warehouses. Small group if they’re the same people she’s been seeing for the last week. Ambush, neutralize, and broadcast it all.”
“Splendid!” his father chuckled, “Shall we then?”
Benedict smirked up at him and hooked his arm as the shadows roiled up over them and swept them out of the Hotel proper.
Moving through the shadows was interesting.
They didn’t simply pick you up and carry you where you ordered them to. It was more like…they pinched two points of metaphysical space together. You could step into them in one place, and then you were in a place between places. If it was a longer way to travel, you still had to do a bit of walking in that between-place, but when you stepped out it was always where you wanted to go. It was sort of a secret hallway between planes. A gap.
So it was after a short, quiet stroll the shadows peeled open once more and the two Demons stood in a darkened corner of a dirty little alley. The street lamps buzzed and flickered overhead, granting Alastor and Benedict all the shadows they would need.
The youngest Morningstar was only a little nervous, mainly because he was determined not to shame his father. It was the first time he’d really been allowed to help with something on a larger scale that wasn’t just hunting down Sinners who’d transgressed. His first official hunt had been a tabloid journalist who’d put together a rather unflattering hit piece on his mother…the man dumped out into his father’s bayou to be chased down and disposed of. It had been messy , but the man had said some truly uncouth things about his mother and that simply wouldn’t stand. He had known so little then about the power of a little shock and awe, but he’d suspected that hunt was just to gauge his willingness to do what was necessary.
He’d passed with flying colours.
After that there had been more hunts…some in the streets of Pentagram City and some right there in the bayou while his father refined his technique. He learned patience and precision…who to mark and who to let pass on with their afterlife. Sometimes he didn’t even participate, just watched while his father showed him how it was done .
Watching his father was like sitting in the audience of a beautiful symphony. The man was a finely curated blend of artist, entertainer, and monster that Benny wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to achieve. He moved through shadows like they were water and just the sight of him could bring Sinners to their knees. That was actually something both parents shared that he hoped one day to emulate…and that was effortless power.
Benedict had only seen his mother’s true fury once from an old news recording a television station had been broadcasting as he’d walked by and it was…well, he’d had no idea his mother had it in him. That fury and grace…that savage countenance…he’d never seen its equal and wondered where the Devil hid it all away. He was goofy and emotional most days, prone to harmless theatrics over little things. In a way it sent a shiver of primal fear down Benedict’s spine to know that somewhere under his mother’s bright, doll-like smiles was that creature.
Lucifer’s power was so great and so much a part of him that he simply saw no need to act powerful. He just was powerful.
Alastor was much the same, cool and controlled and effortlessly witty with a smile on his face. He spoke pleasantly and even allowed himself the occasional spot of silliness, particularly when it came to his step-daughter. He didn’t feel the need to posture and swagger and throw his weight around because he was automatically the apex predator in any room by the very value of walking into it . He didn’t need to show you how big his teeth were until it was already too late…and at that point he was just having fun.
One day Benny wanted that…to be such a well-regarded predator that he’d never need to remind anyone.
They would just know .
He wanted everyone to know that the Morningstar family was off-limits just because he was standing in their ranks.
Charlie was strong, but she was too much like mother sometimes…too trusting for her own good and too deeply impacted by the opinions of others. She never seemed to even think about touching the well of power inside of her, but that was okay. Benedict would help protect her just like his father watched over his mother.
His father broke him from his musings, leaning down to whisper in his ear, “Remember, let them pass by first, then follow. We don’t want to hide our involvement here, but we don’t want to run the little rabbits to ground before we even get to have our fun, do we? Wouldn’t do to spook them off.”
A curtain in a window above them opened long enough for them to be seen before fluttering closed again. Neither paid it undue heed. It was just Cherri’s "eyes" keeping a watch on things.
See, Cherri wasn’t an Overlord for lack of ability or drive…it was purely a lack of will. She didn’t care about collecting souls (too much responsibility) or attending meetings (she had better shit to do) or even hobnobbing with the established powers (Anarchy all the way). But that didn’t mean she didn’t collect connections . She had, over the years, amassed a small community of Sinners who were uniquely uninterested in bowing to another Overlord or playing nice with the rest of the Pentagram. It actually made the feisty cyclops somewhat more dangerous than most people tended to expect since very few people knew walking onto her turf was little better than strolling into a hornet’s nest. Loyal Sinners were twice as dangerous as bought ones.
Cherri would know they were here soon.
Benedict and Alastor drew a little further back into the shadows to wait.
If Vox himself had been the one involved, Alastor would have taken great delight in drawing him out. The man’s psychosexual obsession with the Radio Demon would have had him falling for the trap instantly. They would have made much quicker work of the evening, at least. However, the underlings he’d employed for this (likely more of those damned Sharks that kept drifting their way here out of the Greed Ring) wouldn’t be driven by the same suicidal fanaticism. They’d scatter like leaves if they knew the cannibalistic Overlord was involved.
So it was this slower and more measured approach.
It was another chance for Benedict to study his father.
The Radio Demon was so still.
He stood there hidden in shadow, even the crimson glow of his eyes dimmed to avoid detection before it was time. His smile stayed ever present on his face, relaxed and pleased like the grin of a crocodile. His gloved hands were folded over the head of his cane and his whole body was poised. To his son, he looked like a statue…barely even looked real at all.
Benedict tried to emulate him, to hold himself so preternaturally still.
The minutes ticked by. An hour.
A footstep sounded down the street and Alastor’s ears swiveled forward, the edges of his smile growing.
Multiple pairs of feet now. Voices…they were trying to be quiet, but these were hired thugs, not natural born predators like the Demons waiting for them. Anyone with even half of Benedict’s training could have heard them coming a mile away. Amateurs. But then again, Vox went for quantity over quality, so this was par for the course.
They waited quietly in the darkness, blood singing in their veins as their quarry pulled into view. Six sharks, it seemed. They were armed with guns only, which made sense. If they made it where they wanted to go, they were surely hoping to use Cherri’s own munitions against her to bring down her storehouse. Unlucky for them that everything had been moved in secret earlier that day in anticipation of just such a tactic…which meant these fools only had the guns in their hands and whatever paltry ammunition they could put in their pockets. Not that they'd probably get to use any of it.
Benedict forced himself not to feel smug. He needed to be very careful not to underestimate this encounter. Bullets were unpredictable and frightened idiots with guns were even moreso.
The small posse passed them and Alastor held out a hand. He counted down silently from five with his fingers, curling one into his palm with each second that passed. As soon as the final finger disappeared into his fist, he flowed into motion, stepping neatly out of the alley and following after their prey. Benedict was a step after him, both of them muffling their footsteps for now. There would be a time for a little bit of artistic Foley later once the sharks had nowhere to run.
The beast inside of Alastor’s skin was singing at the low-hanging scarlet moon in pleasure.
It could practically taste the unspilled blood waiting to christen the night air that they would feast on. It cooed in anticipation of the fear they would bring. They were on the hunt, their doe was safe back in their territory and their young prowled at their side. Their spawn had grown tall and strong with shining teeth and sharp claws. The product of their mating was worthy and they would share their meal with him to help him continue maturing into a robust predator. Perhaps if this one grew as powerful as the father and became a fine adult, their doe might see fit to grant them another…
Alastor quickly banished that particular line of thought and put his instincts on a firmer leash. There was work to be done.
The sharks approached the warehouse and made quick work of the shockingly shoddy lock that had been placed just for them. The fact that the quality of the lock didn’t even tip them off was yet another point against them. The thing was practically the costume version of a functioning security measure.
Instead of heeding the danger, they let the lock fall with a loud sound to the ground and went inside.
The Radio Demon’s vicious smile split his face nearly in half and he twirled his cane, catching it deftly and winking at his son, “Show time, dear boy.”
Benedict’s answering grin promised violence.
They arrived at the door of the warehouse in time to hear the first rumblings of confusion from the rough customers who had come to pay Cherri a call. Apparently they’d failed to discover the promised stockpile and only now that the noose was rapidly zipping shut around their collective necks did they even begin to sense their own peril.
Alastor let his shoes begin to tap and he arrived at the door in rare form, giving all of those assembled his most winning smile as a distraction while his own son slipped away into the darkness like another shadow at his command.
“Well hello, my shady chums! Out for a little moonlight stroll are we?”
The sharks turned in unison, startled and on their guard, guns coming up, “What the fuck is this?!”
The Sinner’s head cracked over at an upsetting angle, “Oh! It seems my reputation doesn’t precede me! What an unparalleled delight to introduce myself to a new audience.”
So, it seemed that Vox was outsourcing.
Perhaps he was hoping for cronies who were unaware enough of Cherri's connection to the Hotel that they wouldn't turn the job down immediately. Or maybe these were particularly ballsy newcomers who didn’t care about her reputation or his. A foolish, costly mistake for them all.
One of the smaller ones in the back whimpered, “...Holy shit man, that’s the fucking Radio Demon…”
“Ah! I see I have a fan!” Alastor crooned, prowling a step closer.
“Nobody said the fuckin’ Radio Demon came near this turf!”
Ahhhh and there were the first notes of panic. Delicious.
“Shut the fuck up,” one of the other sharks snarled and elbowed him sharply in the ribs to quiet him down.
The others didn’t know yet.
The others would learn.
It was time to play.
“Well friends! Since this will be a first listen for most of you, a few ground rules. This might take a moment, so please feel free to take a knee ,” Alastor announced into his microphone, broadcasting to an audience of one…or perhaps three if he was a very lucky boy.
At his cue, Benedict was moving swift as a leaping deer and concealed in the low light of the dim warehouse. He was a flash of golden hair and glinting silver as he dove behind the backmost sharks and efficiently took out the tendons at their ankles. The first two crumpled screaming, their literal strings cut, as the clever boy disappeared into a new patch of darkness. Truly beautiful form if the Sinner did say so himself.
Not giving the sharks time to figure out what had just happened, Alastor was talking again, “See! Those fine gents have the right idea. Now then! Rule number one - and I really think I’m quite a good sport for this one - I quite encourage audience interaction. So feel free to scream away!”
“Fuck this. Shoot that fucking fruit!”
“Rule Two ,” Alastor rumbled as a black tentacle snatched the offending speaker with a bone-shattering crack before he could draw his gun and dragging him away into the darkness, “This is radio, chums, so let’s steer clear of that crass blue language, shall we?”
There was a high pitched shriek and then something decidedly wet in the darkness where the shark had been dragged away.
“And finally ,” Alastor said with a flourish, raising both arms and finally giving himself over to the beast, his antlers cracking out at least four extra points, “ Enjoy the show .”
He was sure that someone, somewhere would love to say that the sharks never knew what hit them.
That would have been the kinder reality. However, Alastor was anything but kind. He rather enjoyed working slowly and savoring every sound and smell and sensation a body was capable of making. Why rush through exploring just because his prey wasn't particularly interested in the pain of it all? His son, of course, was delightfully helpful in making sure he had time to work - darting in and out of the confusion and hobbling otherwise able bodied prey. They worked in tandem like wolves and Alastor had never felt more alive . Not even in the living world had he felt so invigorated.
He smiled broadly at his son, knowing full well that his face was all teeth, radio dial eyes, and blood.
His son smiled right back, his own golden eyes utterly consumed by his pupils until they were black marbles. His face, perfect boy, was still entirely clean but his clothes were stained with high-pressure arterial sprays of bright blood. Something behind him twitched. Without even thinking Benedict slammed his heel back and ended up collapsing the throat of one of the would-be attackers on the floor. The sensation sent a little thrill of pleasure down his spine...a little crispy before the inevitable give of a body surrendering.
Then both men were spinning away from each other to continue their work.
Alastor lost himself to the delightful snap of his jaws as he gathered a screaming shark into his gaping maw and bit. down.
It was quicker work than Alastor would have liked in the end, but neutralizing those guns while his young son was in the room had really been more important than lingering. There would be other hunts in the future where they could take their time, but this jaunt had been quite nice. Benedict took cues well, he was efficient, and ruthless. His cuts were clean and he was still such a gentleman even ankle deep in gore. Truly Alastor couldn’t possibly be more proud of the fine young man his son was becoming.
He spared a moment to watch Benedict stroll over to the last living shark. Ah yes! It was the one who had known him and deigned to show his reputation the respect it deserved. The man had been one of the first ones taken out at the ankles and he’d been clever enough to stay down rather than making an undignified display like his fellows. And he begged so prettily for his life!
Benny went to stand over him with his gleaming Liston knife, the edge clearly newly cared for.
The shark was shaking on the concrete, moving as little as possible as if that would actually keep the predators from noticing him, “Please…please man, I’m sorry. We didn’t know the Radio Demon was involved. Please man…”
Alastor tapped his mic when his son looked up at him to say still on the air .
Benedict knew that meant not to speak. His father was very strict that he was to remain silent during broadcasts for now. Everyone was aware of him, of course, but he wasn’t to announce himself in his father’s business. Not yet. Not until he was older, stronger, and skilled enough to protect himself on his own if someone decided to take revenge. Not to mention, Alastor was still respected as an Overlord despite being the royal consort...he still took care of independent business. Involving a direct heir, however, sent an entirely different message.
Instead, the Radio Demon stalked over and leaned right down into the man’s face while Benedict crouched over his head, knife at his throat.
Speaking directly into his mic, Alastor crooned, “Well well, old pal, it was a particularly lackluster effort this time, but it seems you have one player left. He’s been a particularly good boy and followed most of the rules. He’s earned himself an easy little death but the rest of your men? Well…”
Alastor left the transmission open long enough for the last shark to start begging before cutting off the broadcast and grinning directly into the shark’s face, “Stop sniveling, tell me what I want, and maybe I’ll eat a small enough amount of you that you’ll regenerate.”
Immediately, their victim whimpered, “...Yes sir…”
“Lovely. Now then, did your pissant little boss have any other plans for our dear Miss Bomb?”
“N-no…I…not that he told us. I’m sorry! He just paid us to blow up this warehouse, I swear!” the shark said, straining against the knife at his throat.
“Very well. And will I ever catch your sorry face in this territory for nefarious reasons ever again, my good man?”
“Never! Never sir! I’ll go all the fuckin’ way straight back to Greed! I swear!”
“Hm. Very well. I’ll leave half of you. But then I expect you to be a very good boy and leave this territory as soon as you regenerate . Understood?”
“I…y-yes…”
Alastor nodded at his son and the boy slit the shark from ear to ear, watching with some pleasure as the man choked on his own blood. He did say he’d allow the man to regenerate, but some punishment was in order after all. Spare the rod and spoil the child. The shark would die alone in a sea of his fellows’ offal, fully believing he’d be at least partially consumed before he was allowed to come back to life. The fear would be a good enough motivator even though Alastor wasn’t in the mood for eating more low quality meat tonight.
As soon as the light faded from the shark’s eyes, the Radio Demon hummed, “Good work tonight, son. I believe we’ve made our point. Shall we head home before your mother starts looking for you?”
Not us. Never ‘us’.
The Radio Demon was under no illusions of precisely where he stood with Lucifer.
Benedict wiped his knives off on a nearby piece of clean fabric that didn’t happen to be his own clothing, “We should. We’ll both need to tidy up before mother and Charlie are done with their evening.”
“Well then! Away we go!”
Alastor ferried them through the shadows directly back to Benedict’s room so he could shower and deal with his bloody clothing. He gifted his son with a soft, gloved touch on his cheek and a nod of respect before portaling away to his own room. His beast seemed confused that they were returning alone. They’d done well tonight. They’d protected part of their adopted young’s herd. Surely their doe would be proud of them? It nudged at him, but same as every night when he was in his old quarters he ignored it.
Same as every night, he pointedly ignored an empty chair in front of the fire.
He was so proud of his son.
That was the only thing that was safe to focus on.