Chapter Text
A mournful violin fluttered through the hotel, bringing all the conversations in Husk's bar to a halt. Even the jazz music playing over the bar’s radio switched off. Everyone turned their eyes toward the ceiling as if they could see into the auditorium.
The violin player picked up speed, the music turning frantic and angry. The notes were sharp. Then, the beat jumped into a lively fiddle tune for a few minutes before sagging back into a slow classical melody.
All the phones in the room went off. Someone was texting the hotel group chat.
Angel Dust took one look and spit his drink across the bartop. "Charlie! It's your dad!"
Charlie and two of her therapists were meeting in the parlor for a change of scenery. Staring at the four walls of their respective offices was starting to drive them all a little mad. The therapy team was reviewing the schedule for the upcoming group sessions when the violin music started. Since the hotel's reopening, no one has used that room yet. Plenty of residents were singing through the halls, but not one person had used the music room for its intended purposes.
Charlie looked at Angel as he held up his phone and pointed to a picture on his screen. Her dad only ever used the group chat to send duck memes. No one ever understood them, but liked anyway to be polite.
"Holy shit," Sora, a fish imp and one of her therapists, breathed in disbelief as he stared at his phone. There on his screen was a picture of her dad.
The text above the picture read - Quinn: Devil spotted music room
In the picture, the oversized chair Lucifer sat cross-legged in made him seem far too small. His blond hair fell in shaggy waves around his face. The flyways caught the rosy-red rays pouring in from the large windows overlooking the hotel's back courtyard. Her dad was dressed in a deep blue tunic with a U-shaped neckline. His sleeves rolled to allow mobility while he played.
What caught everyone's attention was Lucifer's face. Despite the sound of the music, the emotion packed into every note, her dad's face was blank. His eyelids hung at half mast, and even from the distance at which the picture was taken, it was clear his eyes were glowing red.
The next few texts came from other residents-
Jerry: Oh shit! You safe?
Quinn: Yeah
Quinn: I think he's do that death seeing thingy
Angel: Death Walk!
Quinn: That!
Charlie shot to her feet and rushed to the music room. She took two steps at a time and jogged down the hallway. The violin continued to jump through musical genres with no discernible pattern, from quick to slow, from classical to show tunes. A few fiddle pieces were thrown in.
She rounded the corner and nearly toppled over the small crowd in the doorway. Vaggie stood with her spear out, blocking further entry.
"Charlie," Vaggie adjusted her grip. "What the hell is he doing here?"
"I don't know," Charlie admitted. She looked the room over as if it had the answer to her father's change in habit. He usually did this particular task while making his rubber ducks. Seeing Lucifer actively engaging with one of his punishments in public was rare.
"The Death Walk is one of our King's punishments for granting mankind free will," Quinn read from her phone. Charlie looked over the resident's shoulder to see she had taken pictures of the pamphlets. She made a note to give Quinn some community points to spend for such brilliant forethought. Quinn scrolled a picture ahead and read, “Death Walk has a passive and active viewing state. Active viewing is generally a harmless trance-like state our great King enters to view a sinner's life as they pass into Hell.”
"Generally harmless?" Jerry leaned over to look at Quinn's screen, too.
Quinn scrolled through a few more pictures until she reached another. "Fun facts," she read, "while in his trance, the King tends to wander, similar to sleep-walking, and do activities such as drawing and playing music." Quinn frowned and scrolled back through her pictures. "Oh, here it is. Danger Level: 3 stars. If the King is attacked, he has automatic defenses that respond to the level of danger. Otherwise, he is harmless."
Everyone looked back into the music room, where Lucifer was plunking on the strings, the bow held loose in his right hand. The notes didn't sound like they should work, but the melody strung together sounded joyful and playful.
"Okay!" Charlie clapped her hands, "so we just leave him be."
"I don't know if that's a good idea," Vaggie winced. At least she put her spear away. "We don't know what could trigger a reaction."
Charlie understood where her girlfriend was coming from. Safety for the residents and the hotel came first. "I'll stay and watch him then. And when he's done with..." she gestured at all of him. "I'll ask about the stuff."
There was a visible debate in Vaggie's gaze. Charlie wished she could help Vaggie overcome her distrust for Lucifer. There have been problems, but her dad has also been helpful to the hotel. They wouldn't have gotten as far as they have without his support. However, Charlie learned it wasn't all Vaggie's fault either. Some of it was Heaven's conditioning, and her girlfriend was trying to make an effort to unlearn their teachings. "Fine," Vaggie sighed. "But call me if--"
Charlie swept Vaggie into a crushing hug. "I will!"
Once the crowd left, Charlie pulled a chair close to her dad and listened to him play. She wondered if each tune he played matched the life he was viewing at that moment.
A sad song for a tragic life.
A happy song for colorful memories.
Frantic music for an adventure seeker.
He never talked about his punishments. Even when they caught glimpses of how he suffered, Lucifer would act as if nothing happened or change the subject.
When Charlie searched her childhood memories, she never saw her dad use his powers for anything other than to put on magic shows or liven up storytime with animated puppets. He was always smiling for her or...
He wasn't there.
His absence in her life was starting to make more sense. He didn’t let her go because he was a monster. He wanted to spare her from pain.
A weight settled in Charlie's chest. She looked her father over from his messy blond hair to the black of his hooves. Taking in all the details she had never noticed or he had tried to hide so she wouldn’t worry.
His arms were black and struck through with thin golden cracks. It reminded her of the kintsugi bowls she had seen some sinners sell in the markets. Broken pottery repaired into a beautiful art piece. His hands have always held her gently and reached out when she needed guidance.
His frame appeared fragile, but Charlie had been sheltered by its strength. As a child, he protected her from bad dreams and broken hearts. And even now, he showed her how something small can make a big impact.
His expression was cold and distant. But when she looked closer, Charlie could see the lines of warm smiles and mischief tucked into the corner of his lips.
Lucifer pulled the bow across the strings one last time. The note rang sharply through the air. The red glow of his eyes flickered, then faded. The ruby irises shrunk to slits as he blinked a few times.
Charlie watched her father's blank expression bleed back into motion. His lips twisted in a confused frown as he looked at the violin. His eyes bounced up to the windows, taking in the darkened sky. Then, he followed the stretching shadows into the empty music room. Finally, he followed the shadows to her feet.
His eyes skipped up to her face. "Charlie!" He sat up straight and set the violin in his lap. "Why didn't you say something?"
Charlie fiddled with her fingers. "Would you have heard me?"
Lucifer grimaced and looked off to the side. "It might have taken a bit, but I would have surfaced eventually." He brushed his right hand over his neck where the white-rose gold snake coiled. "Gala usually helps me."
Charlie tilted her head. "Your," she paused to watch the snake uncurl and weave through Lucifer's fingers. "Halo?"
Lucifer smiled lopsidedly. "Ah. Yeah. Over the years, she picked up some personality. She has become a bit of a worry-wort while looking after your old man." He gestured at the room. “She makes sure I don't wander too far from home or get in trouble."
"You didn't hurt anyone." Charlie pulled out her phone and showed the group chat. She scrolled back to Quinn's message. "Just played for a few hours."
"I know. I'm not completely clueless while..." Lucifer waved a hand over his face and laughed. It sounded empty. Forced. Something meant to ease Charlie more than him.
She hated it.
"It's okay!" She blurted. Lucifer blinked and tilted his head. His bright, big eyes watched her carefully. Charlie saw the ghost of the happy, innocent angel he used to be. "You don't have to hide in your room, Dad. I-I don't want you to. This is your home."
His eyes widened a fraction more. Then, a sad smile slipped across his face. He set the violin and bow on the windowsill. "This was so much easier when you were smaller." It was all the warning she got before he slid sideways into her lap and tucked his head under her chin. His arms wrapped around her middle and held her tight. "I'm sorry for worrying you," he whispered.
Charlie crushed him in a hug. She dropped her face into his sweet-smelling hair. Tears fell freely. He didn't complain. He never did. Just held her tighter.
----
Art therapy was a new addition to the hotel's activity sheet. Cherri Bomb decided she would give it a shot and dragged Angie along for what was sure to be a disaster. The remaining residents from the Overlords incidents were a colorful bunch, and every group session always ended in a fight, usually a physical one if Alastor was around to stroke the flames.
According to Charlie, arts and crafts were decided in hopes it would lower the chances of everyone wanting to throw hands. Cherri didn't think that would happen. As soon as someone called another person's art a piece of shit, the gloves were coming off, and Cherri didn't want to miss it.
"Oh shit," Angel groaned as soon as they pushed open the door to the art room. Cherri looked where Angie's wide eyes were turned to the back of the long classroom. Tucked into a corner, in front of a canvas at least twice his size, stood the Devil.
"Just ignore him," Sora, the fishy imp who would be their teacher, huffed. "He was here before me. Pretty sure he's doing the…" Webbed fingers imitated walking followed by a slash across their throat and sticking out their tongue.
"No shit?" Cherri raised an eyebrow. She had to see it after hearing from others about the music room. Apparently, the little guy had played for hours without stopping.
"No!" Sora tried to stop her but Cherri was already winding through the room with Angie right behind her.
Lucifer didn't react as the two demons saddled up next to him and gazed at his work. So far, he seemed to have just laid out what he wanted and was beginning to paint the foundation for his piece. Cherri and Angie bent further over his shoulders on either side. His expression was disturbingly empty despite how fluid his hands moved across the canvas. His eyes were only half open and glowed in that way they'd seen when he went all Devil Mode. Cherri and Angie looked at each other and quickly moved back with shivers rolling down their spines. A silent agreement passed between the two sinners that it was best to let the little guy be. For once, he wasn't hurting anyone with his unholy power.
The class filled out quickly. While several participants were initially nervous with the Devil at the back of the room, he was quickly forgotten in favor of the day's activity. Sora gave easy, followable instructions and set the sinners loose to draw, paint, or sculpt something that represented happiness for them. Cherri and Angel Dust had set up near Lucifer, chatting with the residents closest to them.
Two hours seemed to fly by, with Cherri drawing a building exploding in brilliant reds, yellows, and oranges. Angel took what he was calling an abstract approach to a raunchy sex scene. The imp teacher was less than impressed with the both of them, but whatever the fish was going to say died on his tongue as his jaw dropped. The imp's gaze fell behind Cherri and widened. His eyes slowly went from left to right. Then, up and down. He blinked as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Cherri turned around and, okay, yeah. That was fucking art and made everyone's stuff look like year-one doodles.
"Fuck," Angie gasped. A flash of light followed by a camera click told Cherri the spider snapped a pic. She would ask for a share later once she picked her jaw out of the seventh ring where it had fallen from the force of her surprise.
Cherri had thought the painting would involve ducks. The little Devil, for all his scary power, had a weird obsession with the creatures. His room always had a new addition, and the yellow squeakers were starting to migrate to other parts of the hotel. It was quickly becoming a game among the residents to find the newest themed duck and turn it into Husk for a matching specialty-themed drink.
The painting was not a duck. It was so not a duck because at least those would have made her laugh. While it was clear the piece still had a lot of work left, what was there made Cherri's heart clench uncomfortably. She wasn't any art expert, her forte being how to make things go boom really, really big. She could still see the dark emotions put into every stroke.
Starting at the bottom of the canvas was the lower half of a face, gender unknown. All that could be seen was the cracked, bleeding lips open and facing towards the top of the canvas. Out of the mouth stretched an arm that broke apart into several reaching hands where the wrist should be. All of the hands grabbed at a bright red apple located as the center focus of the artwork. Its bottom half fractured like shattered stained glass, while its top half looked untouched. The wooden stem stretched to soft rainbow-colored clouds at the top of the canvas. Instead of leaves, there were angel wings. The bottom half of the wings were chard with brilliant blue flames slowly licking up the plumage and sending curling, wispy smoke towards the clouds above.
The longer Cherri gazed at the work, the more details she picked out. The nose was in the right corner. Some of the hands held pieces of the apple. The hands had varying skin tones, and some even had chipped nails. The background behind the apple looked like reptile skin. Rays of light peeked between some of the clouds. The list went on and on.
The ringing of a phone jarred her back into the present. She looked around and noticed that nearly everyone had gathered to see Lucifer's painting. The phone rang a few more times until the little King answered. "Hello," he placed his paintbrush down. "No, I'm not busy. What's up?"
Lucifer rolled his shoulders and turned, raising a confused eyebrow when he finally noticed his audience. Cherri and Angel pointed at his canvas with equal amounts of what-the-fuck. Lucifer looked at it and only shrugged. "Sure," he said to whoever was on the phone. "I can be there in a second. Let me finish up here."
He hung up. Without much fanfare or any explanation, he waved his hand to clean his station. The paints and paintbrushes returned to their places. The canvas disappeared altogether. "Could you let Charlie know I'll be back by dinner?" He asked the room. Then, without waiting for an answer. He faded away in a shower of red sparkles, leaving a room full of flabbergasted demons.
----
One of the least successful group activities was the garden project, not from lack of trying but because it was nearly impossible to grow anything non-lethal in the Pride Ring's arid and blood-soaked soil. This was why so much of their agriculture was imported from the other rings better suited for sustaining edible plant life.
That wasn't to say vegetation didn't grow in Pride. It was usually of the variety that mirrored the inhabitants. Meat eaters, blood suckers, fire breathing, and on one memorable occasion, the residents of the hotel learned telepathic. Thankfully, the flower ate negative thoughts, so Charlie decided to keep it rather than get rid of it.
Gardening was one activity Adam genuinely enjoyed. He was good at it. Horticulture was one of the few things that stayed the same throughout the centuries. Sure, some techniques evolved, and there were better tools than when he first started cultivating the land with his bare hands. But the overall concept remained the same.
Hell presented an exciting challenge compared to Heaven, where he could plant a seedling, and it would basically sprout with an eye drop of water. In Pride, there were many things to consider, from the soil to the harsh weather. He'll never forget his first acid rain. He liked that shirt and it took a week for his skin to grow back. Adam found comfort in growing and minding his little patches around the hotel. He even took over the potted plants scattered throughout the building. He might even be willing to admit he is becoming slightly obsessed with Hell's flora. If the number of notebooks he has filled his bookshelf with are anything to go by.
Speaking of notebooks, flora, and challenges, Adam stared at the patches of herbs and vegetables planted in the back of the greenhouse on the hotel's roof. The idea had seemed easy enough after convincing Lucifer to create some nutrient-rich earth soil. After a week, the soil had turned red, corrupted by Hell's influence despite the enchantments placed over the building to keep the worst of the weather out. Adam wasn't about to let that defeat him. The seeds were still good until they started growing, and wasn't that something? Half the vegetables grew faces and not in the fun VeggieTales way. They matured with middle schoolers’ personalities and were currently testing his patience. He's also pretty sure some ginger evolved into shrieking mandrakes instead.
Adam looked at his notes to see where things had gone wrong. It couldn't have been just the soil or the water.
"Yo," laughed a tomato hanging from a vine. "Get a look at this nerd!"
Adam felt his eye twitch. Maybe it was the metal music he was listening to. He should have gone with classical music. Maybe then the cucumbers wouldn't have such an attitude.
"Awe," rasped a pumpkin with a surprisingly deep voice, "did Tub Tub's welittle feelings get hurt?"
Adam rubbed his temples. He could just throw them over the side of the building. He could also get some residents to do an impromptu anger management exercise, so Charlie wouldn't throw a fit. If the bleeding heart found out, she might try to redeem the veggies.
"Careful not to trip," giggled a head of cabbage. "Ya don't want to roll out of here!" The vegetable patch broke out into a chorus of laughter.
Adam refused to be bullied by produced.
Movement to his right caught his attention. He left the failures behind, valiantly ignoring their parting jabs about earthquakes to see who could have ventured into the humid greenhouse. It was one of the residents' least favorite hangout spots, considering the general climate of Hell. He rounded a flower bed of never-dying spider lilies and a set of thought-eating tulips until he found Lucifer's crouched form. The little Devil didn't react to Adam's heavy, approaching footsteps, which was a red flag for the former army captain.
“Hey,” Adam called and received no response. On a whim, he checked the messages on his Hellphone. Sure enough, the hotel group chat had alerts of Lucifer spotted walking aimlessly through the halls while in ‘Devil Mode.’ It was becoming increasingly common, and Adam wasn’t sure that was a good thing. No one had been hurt yet, but it was only a matter of time.
A pulse of energy drew Adam away from his thoughts and to Lucifer’s small form. Carefully, the First Man leaned over Lucifer, taking in the way his black fingers were shoved into the dirt. A second later, another soft pulse of golden light tickled from his blackened hand, down his fingers, into the dirt, and revived the dying plants around the area. Suddenly, Adam understood why his little veggies were P-13. Adam shelved his complaining for later and decided to go with his earlier plan of offering anger management to the residents. At least a few would get a kick out of a talking eggplant.
—
Angel Dust dragged his sorry ass through the doors at two am. The workday had been long, and Val had been...
Angel resolutely shoved all thoughts of work out of his head. The last of his energy left with them.
He lumbered to the nearest couch. He wasn't going to sleep, just let his bruised body rest for a moment. Then he would go to his room. Or maybe he'll text Husk to see if he can bring him a drink—a little alcohol to soften up the worst stings.
When Angel hit the couch, he knew he was done for. It had been his request to have fluffy and soft seating when they were rebuilding. Lucifer overdelivered as the little guy tended to do if someone dared to request something. Ask for a shower upgrade, and the next thing you know, every room has a showerhead with four different message features. Everyone loved the upgrades, but it was chaos for a bit with all the residents absolutely confused with the overnight change. As typical, the Devil only clarified he had a hand in it three days later when Charlie brought it up during breakfast. Until then, most residents thought Niffty or Alastor's creepy shadows had done it. Nope, just good old Luci with a single snap.
Angel sunk into the cushions. The dim lights in the lobby cast a warm glow across the ceiling. The distant chatter from Husk’s bar next door provided a pleasant backdrop with the soft and slow jazz tunes drifting through the lobby’s visiting area. Sleep was on the horizon. His exhaustion was greater than the familiar pain in his limbs. His eyelids became heavier and heavier with each blink.
Angel's breath whooshed out as glowing red eyes popped over the couch's back. Lucifer stared down at the spider demon with an empty expression. Every joint in Angel's body locked up. He needed to look away before something bad happened. He needed to text someone for help.
Lucifer's head tilted as Angel started to reach for his phone slowly. Trembling fingers stopped and started on their long journey to his pocket.
Look away! Look away! But Angel couldn't. He was trapped in the glowing vortex of the Devil's unblinking gaze. Angel changed his mantra to something more reasonable: "I'm okay. I'm okay. Just get help!"
Angel was starting to become lightheaded. The air in his lungs was leaving faster than it could get in, and he had no breath to yell for help. He fumbled his phone out of his pocket. The King started to move over the couch's back. The short guy pushed up and leaned over. He brought their faces closer together. The Devil moved with the grace of the snake he was rumored to be. Angel lost his grip on his only salvation.
The phone bounced off the cushion and crashed to the floor. The sound was loud and echoed in the empty room. Lucifer didn't react to the sound. The King's impressive upper body strength held him over Angel Dust. His forked tongue flicked inches from the spider demon's cheek.
Then Lucifer started to reach forward with his left hand.
This was it. Angel swallowed around a dry throat. This was how he would die. He had a good run, all things considered. Shit contract, but he was a star. Guess it was only fitting, the guy who used to make the real stuff was putting his lights out.
Gentle fingers smoothed down Angel's chest, from his heart to his stomach. Following in their wake was a soft golden glow. Warmth and safety flooded the spider. The pain in his body faded. The exhaustion pulling at his bones lifted, leaving behind a lightness in his limbs the porn stars could only replicate with a good high, and even then, drugs had nothing on this.
Lucifer pulled away. Slipped off the couch. Turned and left. The soft click of his hooves faded.
What. The. Fuck! Angel touched his chest. The blanket was soft, fluffy, weighted, and...
Pink.
Angel laughed. He found his phone under the table within arm's reach. He took a picture of himself and held the blanket close. He sent a text and the picture to the hotel group chat.
Angel Dust: Devil spotted on floor 1. He gave me a fucking blanket!
His laughing slowly dissolved into soft crying as he buried his face in the warm fluff. His phone chimed and buzzed with replies. Angel would deal with it all after a nap.
---
Sleep becomes a novelty for some sinners when they attain a certain power level in Hell.
Alastor tended to get by on a handful of hours stolen throughout the day. The rest of the time, he spent it as he pleased. A late-night broadcast was his usual way of passing the time or, as of late, completing tasks on his to-do list. He could fix the things he needed to without someone interrupting his peace and quiet. Since his full recovery, Alastor has been more active, and the hotel has not had a leaky faucet in days. He always takes pride in a job well done, no matter how menial the task.
He was becoming familiar with the faces of the late-night owls among the residents. Curfew had been thrown out the window last week when Vaggie and her little disciplinary team discovered the residents were gathering in someone's room for the night. One orgy later, it was decided to let the residents roam as they pleased.
One face Alastor hadn't expected to see while performing his duties was Lucifer's. Then again, he supposed he should have, considering the progression of the little King appearing more and more outside his room while Death Walking—a curious sight to see the most powerful being in Hell practically sleep-walking around the hotel.
"Oh shit, oh shit," Angel ran into the bar where Alastor was enjoying a late-night drink. Right behind him were three other residents with equally pale faces and shaking limbs. If Alastor recalled correctly, their names were Quinn(A sand-type demon), Jerry(a rat-type demon), and Betty(a prairie dog-type demon).
"What's got your panties in a twist, Legs?" Husker huffed, already beginning to make drinks for each sinner.
Quinn slammed a themed rubber duck onto the bar. Her eyes were wild as she looked around the room as if she expected someone to appear. "He does it while in Devil Mode!"
"We nearly died getting this one!" cried Jerry as he sagged onto a stool. "He turned around so fast, man!"
"The door shut just in time, Whiskers," Angel puffed, smoothing down his ruffled chest fluff. "He shot something at us! And we didn't do nothin' ta him!"
Alastor sipped on his rye as he listened. He checked through the shadows, and sure enough, Lucifer was wandering around on the fifth floor, spinning rubber ducks into existence. He had a small flock of four following him. A fifth duck was being carved into reality. His magic sparkled and flashed with tiny stars falling to the red pattern carpet.
"Ya ran into the King and took one of his ducks?" Husker spoke slowly. He picked up the duck dressed as a train conductor and turned it around in his paws.
"We didn't think he would notice!" Quinn argued and dropped onto another stool. "He has never attacked before.” She nodded at Husk as her drink was delivered.
“He healed me da other day,” Angel pointed out as he snatched his fruity drink off the counter.
Alastor watched Lucifer pause at the stairwell before taking the flight to the sixth floor. He left behind a rubber duck in a potted plant.
On the next floor, a resident opened their door. Lucifer paused. His head snapped with viper-like speed in the direction of the door. The resident froze with one foot in the hallway. The two stared at each other. The resident slammed their door. Lucifer continued to amble down the hall.
Angel's cellular device chimed a moment later. "He's on the sixth now." He rapidly tapped on his rectangle. "Look, I know Charls wants her dad to feel at home. But like..." he waved a hand in the air. Everyone nodded in understanding. To what, Alastor didn't know.
"I don't see the problem." Alastor smiled. All eyes looked at him with varying degrees of disbelief. "He keeps things lively around here."
"I call bullshit," Husker declared. "The guy pisses you off eight ways from Sunday."
Alastor tipped his head to an angle that made everyone grimace. "Two things can be true, Husker!"
Angel Dust and Quinn opened their mouths to say something. Alastor didn’t hear their replies.
Alastor's inner radio scratched, the high-pitched noise cutting through the air. Lucifer was staring right at one of his shadows. His glowing red gaze was a physical presence reaching through the darkness and into the sinner. The radio demon went ramrod straight. His ears perked forward as he waited to see what the angel would do.
The bar's noise fell away. The voices of the others became muffled as Alastor's complete focus turned to his shadows. Logically, he knew Lucifer couldn't reach him. They were floors apart. Still, the prey's mind was hard to beat down in the face of a true predator.
One minute passed. Two minutes. When the third came and went, Alastor wasn't sure if he was still at the bar or if he had finally triggered one of those blasted abilities. Then Lucifer turned and walked away. His flock of ducks bobbed behind him. The world restarted. The sound crashed back in.
When Alastor opened his eyes, he found everyone hiding behind Husker on the other side of the bar top. Canned laughter caused the group to jump at least a foot. "Now, dears," Alastor cackled. "If I were going to eat you, I would have done it already."
"Then what had you all creepy radio?" Angel demanded over Husker's right wing.
Alastor smiled with all his teeth. "I was checking in on our delightful roommate, and he happened to notice!"
Husker stepped away from the little group. He crossed his arms and looked up. "So," he hummed. "It's about intent. He ain't gonna hurt you if you ain't gonna hurt him."
Angel sputtered. Quinn and Jerry protested. Betty fell over the bar and crashed to the floor as she tried to defend her actions. "We weren't trying to hurt him!"
"Negative intent," Alastor supplied, "did you steal the duck from his flock or pick it up after he walked away?"
"We...might have...made a game to see who could steal..." Quinn stumbled through an explanation.
Alastor held up a hand. "While stealing from the Devil himself sounds like a lovely pastime," he sighed. "I’d rather we didn’t have to clean your innards off the walls.” Alastor smiled sweetly. “Just this once, I’m willing to overlook your less-than-stellar actions. But next time, I will have to charge for my silence!" Everyone swallowed.
“Charlie said no deal-making on campus,” Betty squeaked.
“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” Alastor laughed.
Husker glared and leaned forward. “She’ll know.” It was said so matter-of-factly it surprised everyone. Alastor grinned and held Husker’s hot stare. The Overlord hadn’t forgotten Charlie’s ability. He just doubted she used it because of some misguided sense of civility.
“And if she doesn’t,” Angel piped in, “the little guy will.”
Alastor shrugged and laughed again. “One second, you’re all terrified of our diminutive King, and the next, you’re hiding behind his coattails. You all need to. Oh, what’s the saying,” Alastor curled one clawed hand. “Pick a struggle!” his canned audience laughed and jeered. The group looked suitably chastised. Alastor gave them all one more wicked smile before dropping into his shadows.
---
Lucifer didn't always go ‘Devil Mode,’ as the residents had taken to calling his displays of power or when he Death Walked, but it was now a more common occurrence. As with anything that became the norm, people paid less and less attention. As a result, Lucifer appeared more often in the common areas with no one batting so much as an eyelash when he went all creepy glowing red eyes.
Charlie could not have been happier with the results. Sure, there were some slip-ups here and there. But with the staff and a few brave guests, the worst of his abilities were kept under control for a whole two weeks! Charlie considered this a huge win for everyone and wanted to celebrate somehow. A party, maybe. A sleepover in the ballroom with games and a movie marathon!
Charlie paused as she arrived in the lounge area of the lobby. It was one of the main hangout spots for the residents during the day, besides Husk's bar. The group chat said her dad was here, and sure enough, there he was, sitting cross-legged on a wide green ottoman, in Devil Mode. Today was something special, though.
He was preening, which meant he saw the hotel as his home and was comfortable enough with others to let his wings out!
A small side table with all his tools to clean his feathers was on his left. His top right wing was raised over his shoulder and head to allow access. His fingers nimbly and expertly combed through the large appendage. When he removed a damaged feather, he dropped it into a black bag attached to the little table.
It was interesting to watch, mostly because his expression didn't match the activity he was engaged in. Blank and distant. Charlie wasn’t the only one who wanted to know what a Death Walk was like. Lucifer refused to talk about it. Whenever someone tried to bring the subject up, he would redirect the conversation to something else or leave the room altogether. Not even the pamphlet gave details beyond an outsider's perspective. Maybe one day he'll share, she hoped he would.
Charlie noticed her dad's hands freeze. His wings shifted, pulling tighter against his back. A beat passed where he sat unmoving. Charlie looked around the room but didn't see anything or anyone beside the residents currently there. Lucifer returned to cleaning his right wing, more than halfway through it.
Angel looked away from his conversation with Cherri, finally noticing Charlie's approach. "Hey, Dollface!" He raised a lazy hand. "On break?"
Charlie moved to sit across from her two friends but froze when she noticed her dad pause again. She pointed at him. "Has he been doing that a lot?"
Cherri and Angel shrugged. "Cleaning?" Angel asked. "Been at it for a while."
"No. Stopping," Charlie clarified.
Lucifer switched to his upper left wing and started at the tip. He moved through three feathers before pausing again. This time, he turned his head slightly to the left as if hearing something. He stayed that way for two or three seconds before resuming his task.
Now, some of the others were looking around as well but couldn't see what was drawing the Devil's attention even while in his trance. It had to be dangerous that much Charlie knew. Cherri and Angel were on their feet, looking around and under the couches. The other two guests decided to vacate the area. Charlie didn't blame them. She preferred everyone stay safe.
Charlie stepped behind a chair to search just as she heard the fast skitter of tiny feet, followed by Angel's shout, "NIFFTY, NO!"
The tiny cyclops' high-pitched maniacal laughter had Charlie whirl around just in time to see the redhead leap at Lucifer. Her big eye sparkled with feverish excitement. Her mouth split into a wide, toothy smile. Her fingers made grabby motions as she sailed through the air.
Charlie's feet were rooted to the ground as she watched in horror. One of Lucifer's middle wings snapped out with such speed it sounded like a crack of thunder. For one terrifying moment, Niffty became a red blur—the color of blood. Charlie looked down at the ground and was relieved to see a clean marble floor. Husk's surprised curse drew her attention to the broken wood of the bar's base. "PAIN!" giggled Niffty as she tumbled out of the destruction. The crazy little woman threw her hands in the air and kicked her tiny feet. "Again, Luci! Again!"
Charlie thought her heart might finally give out.
"Nif," Husk growled as he pointed at the broken wood. The top part groaned, then collapsed without its bottom support. He glared at the giggling she-demon.
"Niffty," Lucifer sighed. He blinked rapidly. The crimson glow flickered and then faded. The red irises returned to vertical slits. The feathers fluffed up. His wings seemed to shutter, one right after the other. Slowly, they pulled back into his body while he spoke, "I told you to stop that. I'm not turning my feathers into a duster for you." He waved a hand to fix the bar. The wood snapped back together, and in moments, it was like nothing ever happened.
Niffty pouted as she rolled to her feet. "But they're so pretty!"
Her dad smiled fondly. Amusement glittered in his eyes. The argument sounded old. Friendly. Like they had it a hundred times and were just going through the motions. "And you want to use them to pick up dirt? Is that all I'm worth?"
In a flash, Niffty was at his dangling hooves. "I could make so many things with them!" She climbed up the ottoman, his back, then leaned over his head to stare into his eyes. "I could make the best crown for the Ultimate Bad Boy." Her smile stretched obscenely as she panted in Lucifer's face.
Charlie should intervene before Niffty got into more trouble, but her dad's fond smile didn't change. He simply plucked the little demon off his head and dropped her back to the floor. "Thank you for the offer, but I already have a crown. I much prefer our tea times."
Like a switch flipped, Niffty's crazy eye turned off. Her smile shifted to something more sane and happy. "I like those too! Tomorrow?" She asked hopefully. "I have the prettiest dresses for Randa and Morien all done. And wait until you hear what happened to Jorge!"
Lucifer tilted his head and looked off to the side. His eyes flashed red for a few seconds before clearing. "My schedule is open. Lunch?"
Niffty twirled excitedly. "I'll bring the tea. Something spicy!"
Lucifer nodded. "I'll have the food." Plans made for tea, the little bug dashed off to do whatever it was Niffty did.
Charlie blinked, trying to reorientate herself now that the crisis was over. Had there been a crisis to begin with?
"Damn, Big Daddy," Angel whistled as he settled back onto the couch. The rest of the hotel followed suit by returning to business as usual. Lucifer turned around to face the spider. "I think that was the worst one. Pretty sure my ears popped."
Charlie sat beside her dad and watched as he pulled out his left top wing again. He reached for one of the bottles on the table to put oil on his fingers and combed through his feathers.
Cherri returned from the bar with two drinks, followed by Husk, who offered Charlie her favorite mocktail. The cat demon dropped into another chair across from Cherri and Angel. "Goddamn suicidal is what she is," Husk grumbled. His tail twitched in agitation as he swallowed a huge gulp of his beer. "I keep telling Alastor she's gonna get fucked up one of these days. And none of us will be able to put her back together."
"I wouldn't worry about that too much." Lucifer dropped a few feathers into the black bag. "She's pretty durable. Fire. Impact. Even slicing won't affect her. You'll need something armor-piercing. And even then, unless you can kill her in one blow. You'll end up dealing with Alastor."
"You've seen her contract," Husk asked, surprised.
"When she was having issues with housekeeping," Lucifer shrugged.
Charlie frowned. A feeling took root in her chest. Something bitter. Almost acidic. She tried to shove it down. She ran a distracted finger along the glass of her drink. There were a dozen questions she wanted to ask about her dad and Niffty. She picked the most relevant to the moment. "Does she often attack you when you’re?" She waved a hand at her eyes.
"No," her dad huffed and rolled his eyes fondly. "That's new. And I told her it wasn't safe. Thankfully, she only does it when my wings are out. If it was any other time, she might be hurt worse."
"So your wings just knock someone away?" Charlie asked. She tried to recall all the other ways she had heard others accidentally trigger one of his defenses. Most of them hadn’t been violent responses. The worst was a binding spell which wrapped the person in golden rope from head to toe.
Lucifer shrugged. His expression went sheepish. "I try to encourage the less deadly options. But you know. I'm not fully conscious of the outside world when actively doing the thing."
Angel narrowed his eyes. Charlie shifted uncomfortably, sensing her friend about to dive into the topic her dad always avoided. Her eyes darted to Lucifer, whose gaze stayed on his fingers as they shifted through the red feathers. His shoulders were tense, the only sign of his anticipation for the question waiting to be asked. "What's the difference?"
The two Morningstars turned their startled eyes on the spider demon. Lucifer blinked. His black fingers paused, buried deep in the feathers. "What?"
"For a few weeks, we seen ya all over da place doin' ya creepy eye thin'," Angle elaborated, "and I read da Death Walk pamphlet front ta back. But I don't get the dif between the active and passive parts. Ya doing it now, right? While we talkin'?"
Lucifer nodded slowly.
"Then why don't you do it all da time, if it's less dangerous for all of us?" Angel crossed his lower arms and frowned. "And don't just say it's complicated. Try ta explain it!"
Charlie hadn't thought of that. She had just been happy to see her dad out and about. Now, though, she agreed with Angel. This was why she loved her friends so much. They saw things she didn't, didn't accept things at face value, and, more importantly, they asked questions where she was afraid to, when it came to her dad. Charlie turned her full attention on Lucifer, whose hands had dropped into his lap. His wing withdrew back into wherever they went, and the preening supplies disappeared. Lucifer looked down at his hands, flexing them. His tail appeared, curling around until the triangle tip rested in his palm. His fingers began to trace its edges.
A minute ticked by. Another. When the fourth came and went, Charlie feared the question would go unanswered, and then Lucifer's shoulders sagged inwards. His forked tongue licked his lips as he blinked. He raised a hand to create a room out of gold glitter. In the center, he made a pile of clothes with a washer and dryer along one wall. He created a large washing tub on the opposite wall of the washer and dryer. On another wall, he made a hole. On the last wall, there was a door.
"You have a room, and there is a pile of laundry on the floor you need to do," Lucifer said at least. "You know, to get through it quickly, you should put it all in the washer and then the dryer. Instead, you decided to buy more clothes." The door opened, and clothes floated into the room. They hang in the middle before dropping onto the pile. "There are millions of souls that die every second. Passively viewing them is like buying new clothes and never getting through the backlog. There is always a pile, and the pile grows every second, even if you passively view them." Through the hole in the wall, more clothes flood into the room, joining the pile on the floor.
Lucifer waved his hand to create two people. One on the outside and one on the inside. The person inside the room began to grab clothes and take them to the washing tub. The person on the outside did different things Charlie saw her dad do daily. "For ease of your understanding, I've split up my consciousness when doing Death Walking passively. I don't get through everything as quickly. The backlog builds. And if it gets to be too much..." he paused, letting the room fill with clothes through the door and hole in the wall. The Lucifer on the inside banged against the walls until he disappeared. The Lucifer on the outside fell to his knees, clutching at his head until he shattered into dust. "At minimum, I go into a coma-like state until I balance out. At worst, a soul surge might be triggered. The best way to prevent either is to switch between active and passive viewing whenever possible."
Lucifer reset the room. He moved both bodies inside. One still washed clothes in the wash tub, while the other started the washer. "When actively viewing," he continued, "I can actually speed up the process. Get through lives and choices made quicker. As for why you see me wandering around." A third body appeared, this time with a noticeable difference.
Charlie gasped. A halo hovered over the third Lucifer.
"No fucking way," Angel voiced her thought.
Lucifer chuckled weakly. He held his arm out for the snake-halo to curl around his wrist and settle in his palm. "As you know, Gala is what became of my halo," he smiled and scratched gently under the snake's chin. "Fallen is one of my titles. A strange side-effect of splitting up my conscience to manage many different things is one part formed for it, too. It does not speak." He paused, debating how to describe the next part for them. “While in my trance, Gala ensures I don’t wander far from home. With her help, this part protects the body. And does, as I have, and now all of you have come to learn, what I was initially made for. It creates. Thankfully, on a small scale. Rubber ducks. Artwork. Music. Just to name a few.”
"Wait," Husk leaned forward. His ears twitched. "Are you telling us you split yourself into multiple personalities?"
Lucifer stared at the cat demon. "You said not to make it complicated, so if that helps you understand how I work. Then yes."
"If I want it complicated?" Husk urged.
Lucifer dropped his magic and encouraged Gala to slither around his neck. Lucifer thought for a moment, then nodded. He held open his arms. "This is not really me. It is a convenient form that allows me to exist within your view of reality. The world I helped craft as God's favorite angel. I am the Morningstar who made the galaxies. The angel who helped build Earth's mountain ranges. Put water in the oceans for you to swim. Dotted the landscape with plants and animals for you to eat and grow. I am the giver of Free Will. The only thing greater than I is God himself." He leaned forward, his smile turned playful and his eyes mischievous. "I am the snake and the tempter. I am the Devil on your shoulder that tells you to drink another." Caught in the vortex of Lucifer's glittering rubies, all four of them simultaneously raise their glasses and do. "I am vast. Even now. Try as you might, you will never see all of me. But you will feel it. Every day. From dusk until dawn. 'Til your last breath." He pointed behind them, and they turned to the windows overlooking Pride City.
His final words lingered in a whisper, "As long as your scale tips towards me."