God's Gone AWOL

[3] Bribing Bellhop Boy

The coordinates led to a tall hotel in a large city somewhere in North America. Due to the time difference between there and Micaiah's house, it was still dark when they arrived. However, thanks to the sheer size of whatever metropolis this was, the clouds overhead glowed pink with the reflection of a million different human-made lights. Nothing was dark in this kind of place, even at such a late hour. There was a strange artificial beauty to it --the amount of physical light humanity brought to the world.

Under the proud, golden, LED display lights of the hotel entrance, Atticus and Bentley scrutinized their location for quite some time. The hotel was of the pretentious variety. A shining black building that stretched so high into the sky that even Atticus, a creature of the air, got dizzy when he tried to look up at it. The people meandering in and out of the automatic glass doors were all dressed somewhat formally, so it was difficult to tell who was an employee and who was just wealthy. Everything reeked of carpet solution, expensive perfume, and capitalism.

As though checking the building's ID, Bentley lifted the paper containing the coordinates up, then lowered it back down again. Her eyes focused on the hotel.

"Are we sure this is the place? Why would the Prince of Hell be staying at some mortal-made hotel?"

Before Atticus could come up with a reason, they were interrupted by a distant chorus of people screaming. Both Bentley and Atticus were already on guard, turning to face the location from which the horrible sounds were emanating. Instinctively, the angel conjured his blade, but lowered it after only a second. For once, these weren't screams of terror or rage. If anything, they sounded excited or delighted. Similar to the screams of children playing at a birthday party. Atticus raised an eyebrow and tucked the blade away quickly.

The source of the noise was a black SUV trying to pull into the crescent hotel loading zone. Or rather-- it was the large crowd of people chasing AFTER the SUV and getting in its way. Most of the people in the crowd were young individuals waving signs and carrying posters, but quite a few of them looked to be with the media; wielding cameras of all different shapes and sizes. They were moving too quickly and chaotically for Atticus to get a good look, but he could pretty much guess what was going on.

It seemed they had a celebrity in their midst.

The SUV pulled up to the curb and immediately several people in suits appeared, either from the entrance to the lobby, or from the car itself. All were marching towards that passenger door with a purpose, like the guards of a royal palace preparing to open the carriage door for a beautiful princess hiding inside. Those valiant soldiers dove headfirst into the crowd, and were surrounded by a sea of squealing fans and paparazzi, pushing and shoving to get closer to whatever idol was trapped in the back seat of the car. Like a hoard of mindless zombies, they pushed forward relentlessly, even as the poor security and staff members tried to push them back.

The whole scene was in chaos. People climbing over each other to get closer, pushing and shoving, pulling and tugging. The person inside the SUV either had to be someone who was extraordinarily talented, or someone who just had extraordinary looks. Either way, someone like this turning up at the exact same time as Atticus and Bentley couldn't be a simple coincidence. So both were on high alert, watching the mayhem with cautious expressions.

Heaven had enough big names that every angel was forced to remember. Few human names were ever great enough to reach the ears of the Heavens. Plus, Atticus wasn't exactly the sort of person who was on top of Earth's current celebrity gossip, so he had to wrack his brain for any mortal celebrities of the modern age. But, suddenly his question was answered for him by someone in the crowd.

"Lucy! Lucy please can I have a selfie!?"

Lucy.

Oh no...

Bentley seemed to realize right at the exact same time.

"Oh no," she said, voicing Atticus' exact thoughts, "That can't be--"

"Unfortunately," Atticus quietly replied, "I think it is,"

Buried deep in the center of the hubbub, the target of all the attention had stepped out of the car. Atticus strained his neck trying to catch a glimpse of this legendary "Lucy", but the crowd surrounding them was just too damn dense. All he could see was the shifting of movement, the tall bodyguards herding the people around, nothing of the central figure. He was just about to pull Bentley closer to get a better look when another voice rose from the crowd.

"Please, Lucy! Just one picture! It's for my sister,"

Nobody else would have been able to catch what the bodyguard said in response, but since both Bentley and Atticus were both equipped with the best hearing ability existence had to offer, both could hear the conversation very clearly.

"Maybe another time. Mr. Feral has urgent matters to attend to,"

Both the angel and the demon froze, each internally grimacing at just those few words.

"Lucy... Feral. Lucy-fer. Oh my god." Bentley buried her face in her palm, "This is just... this is so stupid,"

It was very stupid. In fact, it was too stupid. After a moment of trying to figure out what to do, Atticus pulled out his phone and began typing into a search bar.

"I'll google him," He told Bentley.

"Google?? What the heck is google? Is that like fondling or--"

He held up his phone to show her the Wikipedia article for the celebrity named "Lucy Feral".

"Googling is a type or research,"

"Oh! So this is like a mini biography or something, yeah?"

"'Lucy Feral is a popular singer, songwriter, and piano player born in Armagh, Northern Ireland.'" She read out loud, "In the fall of 2018, Feral released his first album titled: At the Gates of Heaven' --Wow THAT'S not suspicious,"

"The name must be fake. Whether he is the real Lucifer, or someone using the name as a play on words, it must be intentional,"

Bentley nodded.

"It's possible that he's just a regular man with an edgy stage-name, and that Micaiah misled us..."

"That's a possibility,"

"...But if he is Lucifer, he's supposed to be in hiding. If he's been living like this, as a popular musician or whatever, someone from one of our realms definitely would have found him by now,"

"I've never heard of him before," said Atticus.

"Well that's because you probably only listen to sad cello music," She told him, "Even the most legendary names in the universe can mean nothing to those who have never heard them,"

Atticus wasn't sure which to be more offended by; the fact that Bentley assumed he only listened to sad cello music, or the fact that she was right. He decided not to say anything in his own defense and instead turned his focus back to the hotel entrance.

The person who had been at the center of the crowd had already made his way into the lobby. There only trace left of him was the sad crowd still chattering outside, f*******n from following him into the building. They looked like moths outside a kitchen window, pressing themselves against the glass, just to bathe in the light.

"There is another possibility," Atticus told Bentley.

"Oh?"

"He cast a jinxing spell on his stage name,"

If cast properly, a jinxing spell had the ability to render a name useless by a specific person or group of people. No matter how many times a person heard it, they wouldn't be able to remember it afterwards or associate it with anybody in particular. It was old magic, left over from the height of Fae folklore, so it couldn't be applied to a being's true name, only an alias. If Lucifer had put the name "Lucy Feral" under such a spell, nobody from Heaven or Hell would be able to recognize or recall it. Even though it was a corny play on his original name that anybody could figure out, it was protected.

"Well no matter what the case with this guy is," Said Bentley, "If Micaiah led us here, I guess we gotta go in."

"Are you trusting her words now?"

"I have no other words to go on, so I guess I am for now,"

And with that, she dragged him through the glass doors and into the lobby.

The inside of the lobby was just as Atticus expected. Clean, shiny, unnecessarily pretentious, with little character to it beyond looking expensive. At least Bentley was entertained by the modernistic furniture designs. Although it appeared that they had already missed the legendary Lucy Feral and his posse of bodyguards. The only people around were some staff members and a few security guards communicating with the slowly dispersing crowd behind them.

If Lucifer was hiding under the alias of a celebrity, getting near enough to talk to him would be virtually impossible for the average person. Luckily, neither Atticus nor Bentley were anything close to average by human standards. Despite this knowledge, Atticus had always considered himself to be pretty unremarkable by his own standards, so he figured Bentley was more likely to take the lead on this particular challenge. Still, he glanced around the room, looking for any form of direction that might take them where they needed to go.

But before he could find such a direction, that direction found him first. It came in the body of a bellhop, eagerly rushing towards the angel and the demon to assist with whatever they may need. For once in his life, Atticus was thankful that extroverts existed in the world.

"Hey there, is there anything I can help you with?" The bellhop asked with a flat, midwestern accent.

He was dressed in an atrocious uniform. It was the typical, gaudy red and gold outfit seen on hallmark cards and in stock images, with a dreadful little black hat. That hat was about as small as the amount of dignity left for whoever had the misfortune of putting the thing on. The entire ensemble made both Atticus and Bentley cringe, it was so awful. Especially because the person wearing it had to be in his mid twenties, and didn't seem ashamed of how he was dressed at all. In fact, he looked delighted just to be speaking to them in such a place.

"I-" Bentley didn't seem to know where to start, "We're... looking for someone."

As soon as she said it out loud, everyone realized how bad it sounded. They had just come out of a crowd of fans, they both looked nervous, and they both appeared to be in the same age demographic as most of the people in the crowd as well. No matter what angle they looked at it from, it really looked like Atticus and Bentley were a couple of loose fanatics chasing after a certain someone. —Which... in a way, they were exactly that.

"Oh, I see," The energetic smile on the bellhop's face faltered, "I thought they said they were keeping his fangirlies out this time,"

"No!" Bentley waved her arms around frantically like a bat trying to flap its wings, "No, we're not-- we're actually--"

But the bellhop just laughed.

"I'm just messing with you, don't worry," He said, "We got a call ahead of time saying you two were on your way,"

Both Atticus and Bentley frowned.

"You did?"

"Sure we did!" He gave a mischievous little half-smile, "I just need some photo ID to be sure it's really you,"

Bentley rolled her eyes. After her showdown with the bouncer at the bar, she'd had enough of dealing with human identification for a lifetime. Luckily, Atticus was already on top of it. He produced a couple of the world's fakest driver's licenses and flicked them out of his sleeve. The bellhop took them with a smile and held up the one with the angel's face on it, comparing the two.

"Hm, looks nothing like you," he decided.

"I beg your pardon?"

Atticus was puzzled. How could it not look like him? He forged it himself.

Suddenly, the demon beside him let out a soft "oh". Then immediately flipped her hand over, revealing a twenty-dollar bill.

"Here, what about this? Does THIS look good to you?"

The bellhop took the money with a wink and said, "Yes, that's a much better photo,"

Then he turned on his heel and waved them forward with the elegance of a magician.

"Alright, now. Come along," He said.

...