Alastor truly hated being late. He was all set to leave the hotel in an orderly fashion, fifteen minutes before he needed to be at his appointment. It shouldn't take any longer than an hour, and he should be at Valentino’s house by six.

 

He pulled his pocket watch from his waistcoat and checked the time.

 

Quarter to five.

 

Perfect.

 

He left his room after bidding the ram skull by his door a fond farewell, jaunting down the halls towards the lobby. The storm outside made the chandeliers rattle. His shadow swirled at his heels, straying along the walls of the hotel, frightening the odd denzin or two by sneaking up behind them. He watched in amusement and hummed cheerfully, twirling his microphone as he pranced his way over to the bar counter where Charlie and Vaggie were sipping drinks and chatting happily.

“I must bid you adieu!” He announced with a wide grin and a buzz of static.”I have dinner plans!”

 

“Okay Al! Don’t get caught out in the rain!”

 

Ever naive, the dear, the princess gave him a big smile and waved. Her consort seemed much less accepting. Vaggie narrowed her eye before sighing, resigned to the fact that no matter what she said, Alastor wouldn’t listen to her and she would get spoken down to.

 

Alastor would give her this, she learned quickly.

 

“Just… Make sure it doesn’t get tied back to the hotel.”

 

“Oh, you are a riot, my dear!” Alastor’s grin stretched beyond what was friendly and laughed at her. In the background, his shadow dissolved into silent chortles. “I will be the epitome of discretion.”

 

Vaggie looked like she believed that about as much as she believed Angel Dust’s frequent proclamations of innocence and sobriety. Her frustration jostled another laugh out of the deer demon and he winked at her, just to make her fume.

 

Husk peeled his face from the bar to see what all the noise was about and they made brief eye contact. Half a century of knowing each other meant no words were necessary and they had a brief, silent conversation. The cat narrowed his eyes a little before closing them and settling back on the bar. No doubt he would pester Alastor for details later, but for now he was content to let him go. This was progress, and Alastor was glad his friend was coming around to the idea of him and Valentino. He hadn’t been happy when he had found out, and while Alastor could appreciate that it came from a place of concern, he didn’t like being treated like he couldn’t handle himself.

 

(“Are you serious? Alastor, you know how you are, and who he is! And what about your-”

 

“Valentino is well aware of my… aversion. To sex. We have a compromise. He will force nothing,”

 

“For now…”

“I don’t appreciate your tone, Husker.”

“You’re gonna get yourself hurt, and I don’t wanna have to deal with the carnage that comes after....”)

 

“Don’t hurry back, asshole.” Husk grunted, and that was that.

 

Satisfied, Alastor straightened his lapels, fixed his hair, and winked out of existence. He teleported straight into the house of his guest star this afternoon. The house was well off, if a bit modern and minimalist for Alastor’s taste. White walls and cubic furniture. His victim of the night stood in the center of the room. A blue skinned lizard demon of some sort. The demon seemed to be expecting him, staring at him with a poker face betrayed by frightened green eyes. A fleshy tongue was peeking out from between braced teeth, showing signs of being nervously chewed on, wet and slightly bloodied. It made Alastor’s stomach gurgle in anticipation.

 

“Good evening, my good fellow!” Alastor tilted his head eerily, his ever present smile growing as menacing hunger lit up his eyes. “I have somewhere to be after this, so let’s make this fast. Shall we?”

 

“You don’t wanna do this.” The lizard demon said. His voice shook a little, but he wasn’t a stuttering mess yet. “You can just walk away now. I don’t want trouble.”

 

“You aren’t in a position to be making demands.” Alastor reminded him. “And you invited trouble when you tried to steal from royal property. I am truly your least painful concern right now.”

 

“I needed the money! Please…”

 

The lizard started backing away as Alastor stalked towards his prey, antlers growing and branching outwards, shadows lengthening with a low hiss. He does so enjoy begging, such fun when they realise it’s useless. Static buzzed around him and the room darkened, red sigels floating about his head. He would so love to broadcast this, the fear is delicious, but it does directly relate to the hotel and a gentleman's word is his bond.

 

“Now don’t hold back the screams, dear.” Alistor’s tinny voice warped, deepening and tuning into other stations. Bleeding in and out of cheering of a studio audience and the blood curdling screams of those who came before.

 

The lizard demon was white knuckled, hands gripping the desk that it was now backed up against. They looked sick and trembling. Alastor licked his lips, saliva turning black and staining his lips. The Radio Demon was so preoccupied with his soon-to-be meal that he didn’t notice the demon hurriedly rifling through a drawer, eyes still locked on him. The wendigo was about to lunge when a small bottle was thrown into his face.

 

The fragile bottle smashed on impact and suddenly blinding pain seared across the left side of Alistor’s face. He staggered backwards, clutching at it, making his hands burn too. He could feel his skin melting away from the impact site, blisters and black blood welling up. Aliastor roared, static shifting and stations rapidly coming to a halt. His body shifting, changing, responding to pain and distress. His limbs lengthened, fur sprouting from his dead, grey skin. His jaw ached and his face contorted into a cervine’s skull with wicked teeth and skin falling away from his skull, exposing the newly shaped bone. The room was filled with heavy, hot breaths that stunk of graveyard dirt and rotting flesh. The lizard demon stared up at what had once been man shaped, now a hulking behemoth barely able to fit in the room.

 

A flash of lightning lit up the bastardization of a deer, long limbed and disproportionate. Dark red fur wet with inky blood. Long, yellow teeth glinted in the storm’s light and a low growl, almost a purr, harmonized with the thunder that followed. 

​

~~~

 

The Wendigo panted through the pain the holy water caused. Lessened now that the Other Self had retreated. The Wendigo was not Damned. It was Other. Beyond the heavenly division. Old magics of earth and death, curses and monsters older than time.

 

The beast sniffed and smelled blood of Self. It’s long tongue snaked out and dragged along the puddle on the ground, bringing it up and letting up fall down their throat. It also smelled blood of Prey. Red eyes, like radio dialled floating in a black abyss, locked on the quivering demon below it and that was that. Prey did not even have time to gather it’s wits before the Wendigo was swallowing it. The Wendigo barely chewed. A few bites to break the Prey into manageable pieces before it was swallowed.

 

Thunder rumbled outside as the beast niffered for more Food. A great and ceaseless Hunger, like a void, needed tending. Other Self ignored it for the most part. Ceasing indulgence for the Entertainment. The Wendigo did not understand. There was only the Hunger. Only the search for Prey. Only the Hunt and the Kill.

 

It searched for more, ripping into the cold machine in which there was stored food. Already dead, but not intolerable. It joined the Prey in The Wendigo’s belly. It was not enough. The Wendigo clawed its way out, smashing the window, and howling into the rain. It needed more. More food. More Prey. There was light in the windows of a house nearby. 

The Wendigo.bounded out towards it. It could smell Flesh. Hear the beating of hearts. The Wendigo was Hungry. It tore through house after house, body after body. Rain slicking it’s fur, dripping down the rivlets of it’s exposed skull. Scooping up any soul unfortunate enough to be out in the rising floodwaters.

 

The Wendigo ate and ate until it could smell no more Prey. Hear no more Prey. Only the might of the storm raging around them. It yawned, saliva and blood dripping from it’s jaws. They still hungered, but there was no more food here. The storm was soothing, like the Chaos. Like home.

 

The Wendigo pulled themself up to an alcove on a roof nearby. The tile groaned under its weight, but it held. It flopped down and laid it’s head under the cover of the roof’s overhang. They let out a crooning groan and the dials in their eyes winked out. A long huff of breath, and the beast relaxed. Slipping away into sleep.

 

~~~

 

Alistor woke up in the rain.

 

He sat up like a jackknife, slapped on his grin full force, and looked around him, spinning his head 180 degrees, eyes glowing menacingly. He didn’t remember how he got here. He remembered The Wendigo roaring and then… nothing.

 

There was nobody around. He was alone on a roof as the rain continued to pour. Below him the streets of hell had turned to canals, the water levels rising still. He took a breath, only slightly shaky, and hissed at the burning on the side of his face.

 

He sneered at the pain, ignoring how it aggravated when he moved his mouth. He lifted his hand to it and could feel blisters and burned skin through his gloves, marring the skin. It wouldn’t scar his demonic form, hopefully, but he doubted it was very pretty. One of his eyes was squeezed shut instinctively, and his left cheek burned. Thankfully, none of it seemed to have gotten in his mouth, but the damage was far from insubstantial. He gave a shaky sigh and flicked his ear. From the sounds of it, it was still raining outside. Fresh, safe, non-holy water had helped wash out the wounds. But he couldn’t stay here. This area was in his territory, but just barely. More one of those liminal spaces on the outskirts, always crawling with demi lords who would happily take advantage of this.

 

He prepared to teleport, but did a double take as he gathered his magic. Where he had full reserves this morning, his magic was a pitiful pool, almost empty. The holy water had sapped his strength. Startled, he stopped, and took a breath, forcing his grin wider to stop a flinch. Static roared in his ears, stations shifting quickly into a cacophony of noise. 

 

Oh dear.

 

Exhaustion tugged on his bones, and he hadn't even made a jump yet.  The water had eaten his energy away to bare bones, tearing away at his demonic energy and weakening him. Something in his chest constricted. He might be in more trouble than he anticipated.

 

Gathering his magic again, he knew he had to make this count. One jump. That’s all he had the power for.

 

For a fleeting moment, he considered warping to Valentino’s penthouse. Teleporting to his boyfriend’s arms and hiding from the pain of his injuries in that fluffy collar. Surrounded by sturdy arms and the thick fabric of that coat.

 

But it was only for a moment. He needed the safety of his own home to deal with this. As much as he loved Valentino, they weren’t there yet. Alisto wasn’t prepared to let himself be seen in such a vulnerable state. Besides, even if he felt comfortable with Valentono seeing him like this, Vox and Velvet would undoubtedly be there too. Those two, he couldn’t afford to show weakness to.

 

So instead he shot for his radio tower. Between the hotel, Valentino, and his broadcasts, he hadn’t spent a great deal of time here recently, but it was always here. Few dared stray close to his territory. He was not a controlling overlord, but random acts of massacre on nothing but a whim tended to ward away permanent residents.

 

In an overpopulated Hell, it was a high symbol of respect, of fear, and Alistor revelled in it.

 

He landed and almost collapsed to his knees. His shadow caught him with a silent chitter. He stumbled a little, but steadied himself and began making his way across the room. He let the familiarity of it set him at ease. Outside the windows, instead of the storm he could hear pounding on the roof, the bayou creaked and croaked with bog wildlife. Gloomy light filtering through the mangrove trees. The floorboards creaked below him and the radio on the table responded to his presence with a crackle. His magic was seeped in every inch of this place, voodoo artifacts and elements in organized chaos. Furniture and books from his own era made up an atmosphere that felt like home, both to him, and his other half. Hundreds of empty eye sockets stared at him as the numerous skulls and skeletons on the walls all seemed to stare at him.  Unsettling to the average visitor, But Alistor could feel the protection in them.

 

“Tha- -ou, de-”

 

Alistor felt his voice fade in and out, like a poorly tuned radio. The words mostly obscured by static. A symptom of his severe magical exhaustion. 

 

The shadow released him and he made his way over to the mirror he had hanging in the hall. He looked at his face and winced at the inflamed blisters. Oh dear. He touched them tenderly. That would take some time to heal. As far as holy wounds went, he could do worse, but he didn’t care much for the branding. His grin stretched. The skin ruptured and filled one of the blisters with blood. 

 

His shadow curled up behind him and tapped on his shoulder. It held up a hand, first two fingers held up in a V shape, before changing it to thumb, first, and fourth fingers lifted. Their name-sign for Valentino.

 

“We can’t -ow hi-.” Alastor insisted. They couldn’t let Valentino see him like this. Show him a side that was weak, that had been hurt. The burn, like his scars, were ugly, and Valentino was surrounded by Hell’s most beautiful… No. Certainly couldn’t show him this.

 

The shadow huffed and held it’s thumb and pinky up to its ear.

 

Call him

 

Oh.

 

Alastor searched his pockets. He didn’t understand the value of these hellphones the youth seemed to like so much, but Valentino had bought him one after one of their dates. ‘So you can call me.’ he’d said. He rarely used it, but he saw Val smile when he did, so he kept it around. Even if the touching-screen and all the applications still confused him.

 

He frowned when he brought it out. The pink case, Valentino’s colours, was all that was holding together the cracked mess of soaking electronics.

 

Whoops. Seems The Wendigo claimed more than just undead victims tonight.

 

His shadow sighed at him, exasperated. Alistor huffed and stumbled to the sittee, sitting with.... Less elegance than he would have liked. He had a house telephone mounted to the wall in the parlor, but he knew Valentino wouldn’t answer a number he didn’t recognise. He had ranted to Alastor on many an occasion about the scammers and schemers that tried to call him.

 

“Pe-aps yo- -uld go fi- -ut.”

 

The shadow brightened before hesitating, glancing back at him. Bloody, overprotective thing. 

 

“I wil- -e fin-”

 

The shadow narrowed its eyes and something in the air shifted as it became more… real. Solid. Alastor’s vision did a strange shift as he suddenly started receiving sensory information from two angles. The shadow’s way of literally keeping an eye on him.

 

He felt a swell of affection, but squashed it under impertinence. He sent through their newly forged connection:

 

Fine, now go.

 

He could feel the shadow’s amusement as it vanished into the night.

 

~~~

 

Alastor followed the entire debacle in the storm, heart in his throat. He could see through the shadow’s eyes that Valentino was trembling in the rain. Calling for him. Trying to press further into the storm. He hauled himself to his feet and hurried to the house phone, waiting for the shadow to get Valentino dry and warm.

 

As soon as Valentino’s sodden coat and hat were off of him, he quickly dialled the number. His shadow encouraged his lover to pick it up and finally, Alastor was able to talk to Val.

 

Sort of.

 

His voice was still experiencing interference. After this he would need to sleep, and eat one of the carcasses he had stored away to regain some energy. He knew he was difficult to understand like this, but he did his best. Alastor found himself very grateful that Valentino asked if he was somewhere safe and not if he was hurt. He did hate lying to his amour, but telling him he had a holy burn would have cause no small amount of stress. He might even try to travel across the city to get to him.

 

He would not have Valentino back in that rain.

 

Eventually he hung up, content to let his shadow take care of Valentino and calm him down. It was an extension of himself, given a life of its own, he trusted it

 

He felt the phantom of Valentino’s hand on his non injured cheek, gentle and warm.

 

“Be safe.”

 

His prema-grin softened into something genuine. He leaned into the hand that wasn’t there and turned his mouth into it. A touch that, on a normal day would be unwelcome, was much appreciated in light of the day.

 

Hopefully he could rest here until the burns faded. No need to cause his friends concern, or give his enemies ideas. 

 

He made his way to his bedroom and quickly donned his pajamas.Slipping under the covers, he could feel Val’s body heat through his shadow, the pressure of his arms around him. He let his eyes slip shut.

 

And he slept.

​

​

End of part 2