Chapter 15
As Alastor and Mayberry stepped out of Blitzo's office, the lingering tension between the two parties clung to the air like thick smog. The imp's smug confidence was grating, but Mayberry couldn't deny that the deal had gone as she wanted.
It should have made her feel victorious.
But something about the whole encounter left her feeling… uneasy.
Alastor, on the other hand, was buzzing with silent curiosity. His sharp crimson eyes flitted about, his senses tingling as he once again felt the strange, unfamiliar energy still lingering in the air.
Something powerful.
And the fact that these pathetic, low-ranking mercenaries were in possession of it?
Now that was intriguing.
Before he could locate where the energy was coming from, an annoyed growl reminded him that they were still unwelcome guests.
"Get the fuck out already," Loona snapped, her tail flicking aggressively. She sat hunched over her desk, glaring daggers at Alastor with all the pent-up aggression of someone who wanted to rip his throat out, but wasn't stupid enough to try.
Alastor merely grinned, tilting his head ever so slightly as if daring her to test that threat.
"Oh, my dear," he purred, placing a hand over his chest in mock sincerity. "If only you could~"
The hellhound's ears flattened, but before she could retaliate, Mayberry grabbed Alastor's sleeve and pulled him toward the exit.
He looked down at the smaller demoness, a raised brow in questioning.
"We're leaving," she gritted out, not in the mood for his theatrics.
He merely chuckled in response before nodding his head and followed along.
Mayberry let out a sharp breath, forcing herself to relax.
It was done. The deal was made. Martha would die.
She should feel relieved.
But her pulse was still racing.
Maybe it was just the weight of everything settling in. Maybe it was being in that room, surrounded by demons who killed for a living.
…Or maybe it was Alastor—his presence, his unsettling ease in every situation, his constant smile that never let her forget that she was dealing with something far more dangerous than she could ever comprehend.
Her mind was still buzzing with uncertainty when—
TWANG!
A sharp whistle sliced through the air.
Her instincts screamed at her.
Something was coming. Fast.
She barely had time to flinch before—
SNAP!
The sound of an object being snatched out of the air.
Everything stopped.
The bolt froze midair, its deadly tip hovering inches from her temple.
Mayberry's breath caught in her throat, her mind struggling to process what just happened. One second she had been walking, the next, she had almost died.
She turned her head, her yellow eyes widening at the sight of the arrow, caught effortlessly between Alastor's fingers.
"My, my," Alastor chuckled, twirling the bolt between his fingertips as if it were a mere toothpick.
His red eyes flicked toward the still-open office door, where a very guilty-looking Moxxie stood frozen in horror, his shaking hands still gripping a crossbow.
"What a close call~!" Alastor mused, tilting his head at the imp. His smile widened, flashing sharp white teeth. "You should really be more careful with those little toys."
The room behind them erupted into chaos.
"MOXXIE, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!" Blitzo roared, immediately grabbing the crossbow and smacking Moxxie over the head with it.
The smaller imp yelped, stumbling back.
"I-It was an accident!!!" Moxxie stammered, rubbing the new welt forming on his skull.
"It's true! The trigger just went off on its own! It wasn't Moxxie's fault!" Milly came to his defense stopping Blitz from going too far.
Alastor laughed, tossing the bolt in the air and catching it lazily.
"Oh, no harm done~" he cooed, flicking the projectile toward Moxxie, who let out a scared screech when the arrow pierced itself inches away above his head. "But I do believe that means our departure is quite timely."
Mayberry staggered back, her pulse pounding in her ears.
She should say something.
She should curse out the imp for almost putting an arrow through her skull.
S-She should thank Alastor for saving her life.
But all she could do was nod mutely, her hands trembling at her sides. There were no words that could adequately encompass the tumultuous emotions swirling inside her.
Alastor, seeming to sense her distress, placed a gentle hand on her lower back, guiding her towards the exit. His touch was light, but it held a surprising steadiness that grounded her reeling mind.
"Come along, my dear," he murmured, his voice a soothing timbre amidst the chaos. "I believe we've overstayed our welcome."
Mayberry let him lead her, her feet moving on autopilot as they stepped out into the hallway. The door slammed shut behind them, muffling the sound of Blitzo's continued tirade and Moxxie's desperate apologies.
The sudden silence was jarring.
Mayberry took a shaky breath, trying to calm her racing heart. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, each one more confusing than the last.
She had come here for revenge. Simple, straightforward revenge.
But nothing about this felt simple anymore.
Alastor's hand was still on her back, a gentle pressure that seemed to be the only thing keeping her from spiraling.
But as they disappeared down the dimly lit streets of Hell, Alastor's mind was elsewhere.
His senses were still tingling.
That power, that strange, unfamiliar power he had felt back in Blitzo's office, it still lingered, like a faint powerful echo clinging to the air.
And he intended to find out what it was.
With a flick of his wrist, his shadow slithered from beneath his feet, stretching toward the cracks in the walls of the building they just left.
The inky tendril moved unseen, weaving its way into the shadows of the office, clinging to the walls, watching, listening.
Alastor's expression didn't change as he walked beside Mayberry, his usual bright smile plastered onto his face.
He would return Mayberry safely to the Happy Hotel. And while she rested, his shadow would remain behind, watching and waiting.
Whatever power was hiding within I.M.P., he would uncover it soon enough.
________
The shadow lurked in the corners of the I.M.P. office, silent and watchful. It observed the chaos unfolding as Blitzo, red in the face, jabbed a finger aggressively at Moxxie, who looked as if he wanted to shrink into the floor.
"MOXXIE, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!" Blitzo bellowed, waving his arms wildly. "You nearly shot that freaky-ass deer bastard's bitch! Do you have ANY IDEA what happens when you piss off an Overlord?! Huh?!"
The shadow shook in irritation at the crass imp revering to Mayberry as his 'bitch'.
Moxxie, ears flattened, and tail curled around his leg, stammered, "It was an accident! I-I didn't mean to—"
"An accident?!" Blitzo mocked, throwing his hands up. "Oh sure, lemme just ACCIDENTALLY get our whole business fucking nuked off the map! That's a great idea!"
Millie, ever the protective wife, stepped between them, placing her hands on her hips. "Blitz, honey, calm down! Moxxie didn't mean nothin' by it! We're all still alive, ain't we?"
Blitzo groaned, rubbing his temples.
"Yeah, yeah, we're still breathin', but for how long?! That bastard was smiling! You know what happens when guys like HIM start smiling harder?! Bad. Shit. Happens."
Loona, who had been sitting behind her desk looking unbothered, snorted but said nothing. She remained glued to her phone, scrolling with what appeared to be disinterest.
However, the way she gripped the device a little too tightly betrayed the fact that she was anything but calm.
The shadow, curious, slithered closer, shifting its form subtly to get a better view of her screen. It flickered its formless essence over her shoulder, peering at what had her so absorbed.
Hellstagram posts filled the screen, showcasing images of other Hellhounds.
More specifically, muscular, rugged-looking male Hellhounds, baring their fangs and flexing in a variety of scenarios. At underground raves, in brutal pit fights, lounging on motorcycles, or simply posing shirtless with a cigarette hanging from their lips.
Interesting.
The shadow filed that knowledge away. The girl clearly had a type.
It quickly melted back into the shadows when the wolf girls' ear twitched and turned around with a glare.
Seeing nothing, she huffed before turning back to scrolling through her phone.
After several minutes of nothing but arguing, Blitzo let out an exaggerated groan, storming off into his office and slamming the door behind him.
The shadow followed, melting seamlessly into the dim lighting, careful to stay hidden. It watched as he stomped over to the wall, yanked a crooked painting aside, and revealed a hidden vault embedded into the paneling.
Muttering to himself, Blitzo twisted the dial of the safe. "Damn deer bastard… Thinks he can just walk in here all smiles and—"
Click
The lock released with a heavy clunk.
"There we go! Daddy Blitz always keeps his little insurance handy!"
He pulled open the door and reached inside, retrieving a thick, ancient-looking grimoire. The book's worn leather cover was etched with infernal symbols that glowed faintly, pulsing with an eerie energy.
The shadow stiffened, its formless essence vibrating with intrigue.
So, that was the source of the strange power.
Blitzo flipped through the ancient grimoire, his fingers tracing over the infernal symbols on its worn leather cover. The eerie energy radiating from it was undeniable, making the air around it hum with latent power.
His crimson eyes flicked toward the office door, ensuring no one was watching. He muttered under his breath, clicking his tongue in irritation.
"Damn deer bastard… poking his nose where it doesn't belong…"
With a huff, he slammed the book shut and shoved it back into the vault. Twisting the dial, he locked it tight before yanking the crooked painting back into place, concealing the safe once more.
Unbeknownst to him, the shadow lurking in the corner shifted ever so slightly, observing his every move.
Blitzo stomped out of his office, his mood as sour as ever. He stepped back into the main area where Moxxie, Millie, and Loona were still loitering.
"Alright, enough screwin' around!" he barked, clapping his hands together. "We got a job to do, and I ain't about to let some creepy-ass overlord make me nervous in my own goddamn office."
Moxxie flinched at the reminder of his earlier blunder but wisely kept his mouth shut. Millie placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, offering him a small smile.
Loona, meanwhile, rolled her eyes and went back to scrolling on her phone, uninterested in Blitzo's dramatics.
Blitzo marched over to an empty space in the middle of the room, pulling a small piece of chalk from his coat pocket. With practiced ease, he knelt and began sketching intricate symbols onto the floor. The chalk scraped against the wood, forming a precise circle filled with swirling demonic markings.
The shadow remained nestled in the corners, motionless, watching as Blitzo worked.
After several tense moments, the final symbol was completed. The markings pulsed briefly before igniting with an ominous red glow. A swirling vortex of energy erupted in the center of the circle, warping the air around it before stabilizing into a shimmering portal.
The human world lay beyond, a dim, nighttime cityscape visible through the glowing rift.
Blitzo stood, dusting off his hands. "Alright, Moxxie, Millie! Get your asses through the portal. We got a contract to fulfill."
Moxxie hesitated for only a second before nodding, tugging at his vest to straighten it before stepping forward. "Y-Yes, sir!"
Millie grinned, cracking her knuckles.
"Hell yeah! Let's go, baby!" She grabbed Moxxie's hand, and together, they stepped through the swirling gateway.
As they vanished into the human world, Loona lowered her phone and scoffed. "And what about me?"
Blitzo sighed dramatically, throwing his hands up. "You're stayin' here. Someone's gotta hold down the fort, and I ain't about to waste a perfectly good portal trip just so you can go mess around on Earth again."
Loona's ears flattened, and she growled, baring her sharp teeth. "That's bullshit, Blitz! I can handle myself!"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure you can sweetie!" Blitzo said, but still not allowing her to go, waving her off. "But someone's gotta be here in case that freaky deer bastard decides to drop by again, and I ain't lettin' you get ganked on my watch."
Loona grumbled under her breath, clearly annoyed, but didn't push the argument further. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms and scowling.
"Fine. Whatever. Not like I care, anyway."
Blitzo smirked. "Glad to hear it! I left some money for you to get lunch in case we don't make it back on time! Have a good time sweetie!"
With that, he turned and stepped into the portal himself, the swirling vortex swallowing him whole before sealing shut behind him.
The office fell into a tense silence.
Loona huffed, kicking her feet up on the desk, returning to scrolling through her phone. But her ears remained perked, subtly alert despite her feigned disinterest.
And in the corner of the room, the shadow lingered, coiled in the darkness like a patient predator.
The shadow remained nestled in the darkness, its inky tendrils curled like a coiled serpent waiting to strike. With the I.M.P crew gone, traversing the mortal world to fulfill their grim contract, the office lay silent and still.
Only the soft tapping of Loona's claws against her phone screen punctuated the heavy quiet that blanketed the room.
Seeing its opportunity, the shadow detached itself from the wall, its formless essence slithering across the floor like a pool of spilled ink. It moved with purpose, its movements fluid and eerily silent as it glided towards Blitzo's office door.
Loona's ear twitched, a subconscious acknowledgment of the subtle shift in the room's energy. But engrossed in her phone, she paid it no mind, her thumb continuing to scroll through her social media feed.
The shadow slipped beneath the crack of the door, entering Blitzo's office unseen. Once inside, it reformed, rising from the ground and taking on a more humanoid shape. Its edges remained blurred, its features indistinct, but the glowing green eyes that manifested were sharp and focused.
It moved towards the hidden vault with purpose, its gaze fixed on the crooked painting that concealed the ancient grimoire. The air around it seemed to vibrate with anticipation, the strange power emanating from the book calling to it like a siren's song.
The shadow reached out, its inky black fingers stretching towards the crooked painting. The air around it crackled with energy, the ancient power of the grimoire pulsing just beyond reach. It could feel the arcane symbols etched into the leather cover, could taste the infernal magic that radiated from within the pages.
Just a little further...
BRNNNNN!!!
But the moment its shadowy hand made contact with the painting, a blinding flash of light erupted from the hidden vault. The shadow recoiled as if it had been burned, its form sizzling and spasming from the sudden onslaught of holy energy.
White hot agony lanced through its incorporeal body, the protective wards woven into the safe's very structure flaring to life with righteous fury.
The shadow let out a soundless scream, its features contorting in pain as it staggered back.
The shadow writhed, its form flickering like a dying flame as it recoiled from the searing light. The pain was unlike anything it had encountered in centuries—holy magic, raw and unfiltered, carved into the very structure of the vault to repel intruders like itself.
It had underestimated Blitzo. The imp might have been a loudmouthed fool, but he had precautions in place, ones that spoke of experience and paranoia.
The realization was both irritating and intriguing.
The shadow shuddered, its form momentarily destabilizing before it forced itself to retreat. It pooled back onto the floor, shrinking into the cracks and corners, coiling into itself as it suppressed the pain lancing through its essence.
It would need to report back to Alastor.
——————
Meanwhile, in the streets of Hell, Alastor walked with his usual carefree stride, his arm still lightly resting against Mayberry's back.
His expression remained as cheerful as ever, while Mayberry, on the other hand, was still lost in her own turmoil.
The near-death experience, Alastor's intervention, the overwhelming realization that she had thrown herself into a world she barely understood, it was all finally catching up to her.
She swallowed hard, casting a side glance at the smiling Overlord beside her.
"You… saved me," she finally muttered, her voice quieter than usual.
Alastor's ear twitched, and his grin widened ever so slightly.
"Why, yes, I guess did~!" he chirped, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "It wouldn't do for my dear little companion to be skewered before the real fun begins."
Mayberry frowned at that, though she wasn't sure why.
Maybe it was the casual way he spoke of it, as if her life had been a passing amusement rather than something of actual value.
Or maybe it was the implication that he had more plans in store for her.
Still, she couldn't ignore the fact that he had stepped in without hesitation, stopping the arrow before it could so much as graze her.
He hadn't hesitated. He hadn't mocked her for nearly dying. He had simply acted.
A silence settled between them, the usual tension that accompanied their interactions lingering in the air.
But this time, it felt… different.
"Why do you do that?" Mayberry asked suddenly, her voice steadier now. "Act like everything is a joke?"
Alastor let out a soft chuckle, finding her question to be funny.
"Oh, my dear, life itself is a joke! A grand, chaotic performance where everyone stumbles about, pretending to have control." He tilted his head slightly, his red eyes gleaming in the dim light.
"Wouldn't you rather smile and laugh at the absurdity of it all than drown in the misery?"
Mayberry considered that, finding his answer to be more of a redirection than anything else, but still considered it.
She had spent so much time consumed by rage and grief that the idea of simply… laughing at it all felt foreign.
Impossible, even.
"I don't think I can do that," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
Alastor hummed in amusement. "Oh, I think you could, if you let yourself."
She huffed, rolling her eyes. "And what about you? Have you always been like this?"
Alastor's grin remained unchanged, but something in his expression shifted—subtle, almost imperceptible.
"Why, that would be telling, wouldn't it?" he mused, a teasing lilt in his voice. "But perhaps, if you stick around long enough, you might just figure it out~"
Mayberry didn't know why, but that made her smile just a little.
For the first time since making her deal, she felt something other than wariness around him. Maybe it was the way he spoke so confidently, or how he treated her like something more than just a pawn in whatever game he was playing.
…Maybe it was just the simple fact that, for all his unsettling nature, he had still chosen to protect her.
Whatever the reason, she found herself lowering her guard, just slightly.
And for now, that was enough.