Demons and Magic

CHAPTER 14: Seven Princes of Hell

Alastair’s arm burned with a blue flame.

Nathan, who was now trying to arrange the row of cup noodles after a group of college students made a mess, simply stared at her through the glass wall with curiosity dancing in his eyes.

She looked cold out there. She had nothing on but a thin piece of longsleeved sweater paired with her favorite dark-colored trousers. Surely, the cold from the wind and the frequent rains could seep through that. Nathan had told her before they went out to at least put on another layer, but like the stubborn little prick that she is, all she did was ignore him.

Of course, that would’ve meant he could brag to her about being right now. But watching her out there as she continuously rubbed her palm on her left sleeve, he couldn’t help but feel a little guilty about making her get out there while the weather was bad.

He heaved out a sigh and decided to grab his jacket from the locker at the back of the store.

He absolutely hates her guts, no doubt about that, but he’s not about to just watch as she dies from hypothermia. Which leads him to another one of his questions — would an immortal being feel cold, too?

“Hey,” Nathan called as he placed a small cup of coffee in front of her, making sure to slip her the jacket in the most casual way possible.

Letting slip that he actually cares for her even for just a little bit would be an embarrassing thing to do. So much more if it is with Alastair. She’d probably use that against him to try and get him to jump off a cliff or something.

Not a chance.

“Are you cold?” he asked when he saw her rub on the same spot on her arm again. “I’m really sorry you had to stay here. Do you want to come in as a customer this time?”

“Piss off.” She scowled at him and took a short sip from the coffee, making Nathan wince when he realized how hot it probably was.

She had no reaction whatsoever though so to answer Nathan’s question, they probably don’t feel anything.

“Al? Are you okay?”

“When are we going to go and find Lucifer?”

“Oh, come on. We already talked about this,” he said and attempted to stand up but she just effortlessly pushed him back down again.

“Look here, you wheezing bag of useless sh*t.” Alastair leaned closer to him and clenched her fist, catching the attention of a good number of people that were just passing by. “I’m not taking no for an answer this time. Do you know just how dangerous it is for the Prince of Hell to be in here right now? You have no idea how many tortured and vengeful souls are now probably roaming the face of Earth, you mewling p*ssy. That guy you saw that was following you? Guess what, Sherlock. He’s one of them.”

“One of them?”

“Are you a parrot or something?” she hissed and he inched farther from her.

“But how? I mean … how?”

“Hell has seven princes, okay? Each one for a specific type of sin and right now, someone is missing. It is important for him to come back or else, all of those lost souls will come rushing back to where they come from. And in this case … it’s here.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Oh, s**t, indeed.”

···

Alastair pulled up in front of Mrs. Pratchett’s two storey house and rubbed the drowsiness out of her eyes, something that Nathan had long since found to be problematic.

How can she drive at a speed faster than any NASCAR racer all the while still dozing off every few seconds behind the wheel? That’s got to be really dangerous. Although yeah, with the kind of reputation that someone like her could earn, this is barely just scratching the surface.

Alastair just sneered at him as they climbed up the stairs, looking as though he could read his mind.

But wait … can she?

“Who are you?” a voice — very deep and … do people still say husky in here? Because that just sounds like a dog, for real. But yeah. A croaking, brooding voice called out loud from behind her.

When they both turned to see who the frog was, they saw a man — maybe a human? — who was all dressed in black, his dark hair— you know, dark — and his face as white as … you know what, forget it. He’s as pale as a ghost, that’s all that there is.

“Who are you?” the dude said again, walking towards them noiselessly from the room next to theirs while the sleeping robes he wore flailed around in the wind.

He looks like a king. Except, he looks dead, too. Alastair was kinda thinking that maybe she can hook him up with Azriel or something. That’d be great. He looks like he’s about to decompose. Maybe if she shook him hard enough, several of his bones would fall off.

“I am … ” she paused. Would it be alright to tell him who she really was? But, of course, yes. It’s not as if these dumb humans can do anything about it. They’d probably end up praising her, too, and— okay, no. That’s what the old man got kicked out of heaven for. No way. “ … I am Alastair.”

“Are you sure? I can’t really tell. This body has got really bad eyesight,” he said calmly, his face void of any emotions, but she bets his mind is already racing about the different ways he could kill her.

Because hers was.

“Yes, and no,” she answered, and a solitary line appeared on top of his forehead.

“What does that even mean?”

“That means I might have been sure at one point, but now, not exactly.” She beamed at him and watched as his pallid face contort in confusion.

“Well, I recognize your voice. But if you’re not Alastair then … ” he trailed off, his voice almost a whisper, and took a step towards her, “ … who are you?”

It was Alastair’s turn to crease her forehead. “B*tch, I just told you.”

Snow White just clenched his jaw at the insult and took another step, towering over them both. “I’m just gonna ask you once,” he uttered in an almost silent voice. “Who are you and what are you doing with my human?”

“Why are we whispering?” she replied in a whispered shout, matching the intensity of his gaze as she shrugged at Nathan who gave him a questioning look.

The guy narrowed his eyes at her and in an instant, she felt a chill run down the length of her spine out of nowhere. She blinked up at him as he changed eye colors.

It was her turn to narrow her eyes at him. “What on my father’s f*****g trousers are you doing?”

He blinked and in an instant, his eye color changed back into its natural jet black color. “Hmm, curious,” he said in a poor attempt to sound mysterious and leaned closer to her, almost as if studying her entirety.

She sniffed, immediately backing up when the acrid smell of rotting flesh hurt her nose. “What the hell was that horrible smell? You smell like a f*cking corpse — and that’s saying a lot ‘cause where I’m from everyone’s dead.”

“Everyone’s dead, aye?” Mr. Crinkles said and crossed his arms. “So, you really are Alastair and not another one of those escaped souls? Because so far, I’ve seen three of them today.”

Alastair blinked. Three escaped souls?”

“Yes. Did you catch any? I mean, not to brag but this body is clearly not the athletic type and has the worst eyesight I’ve ever seen on a human—”

“Ooh, the irony.”

“—but I still caught all three of those souls, didn’t I? What about you? What have you done since getting here apart from pestering humans, Alastair?”

“Me? Oh, I don’t know. Caused the h*******t or something?”

He took another step. This dude’s invading her personal space much more than she intended for anyone to.

“Stop talking about that. You know that Michael is still a little bit touchy about it.” He crossed his arms as though they were, in an instant, already close. Alastair begs to differ. She had no idea who the donkey was. “Oh! And by the way, can you go and buy me one of those … what was it they call those things for the blind again?”

“A walking stick?” she asked, barely interested as to who she was talking to now. “You can just grab hold on one of those twigs outside. That could work for you. Just make sure to get up before five or they’d all be gone by then. The cleaners get up pretty early.”

“No, you dumb cretin. I’m not talking about that. I need one of those … those … those glasses, yeah! It’s what the humans called them.”

Alastair just rubbed her eyes again, getting even more drowsy by the minute. “Glasses? For real?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought you only use that to drink water? I didn’t know you could see through that one.”

“No! Not that one. The glasses for the eyes.”

“Yeah.” Alastair yawned. “Sometimes I put ice, too, when it’s significantly hotter outside.”

“Jesus Christ!”

“Oh no, I don’t put Jesus Christ in it. I always find it sacrilegious.” She yawned again and Nathan caught her by the arm before she could even stumble backwards, his face marred with irritation from all of these asses that were all suddenly appearing everywhere.

“Do you even know me?” the guy tapped his bunny-eared slippers on the floor continuously and crossed his arms, his angelic face slowly scrunching up into a scowl.

“No,” Alastair simply answered and rested her head on top of Nathan’s shoulder. “Who is ‘Mi’?”

“It’s me, Castiel, you idiot.”

Well, that was anticlimactic. “Wow,” she said sarcastically and Nathan almost blurted out laughing.

Castiel simply rolled his eyes. “Just go to sleep. I think you need it way more than I do.”