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Despite decades of association, not even Alastor was sure what precisely the shadow creatures who worked for him were. The smaller ones in particular were quite playful, taking mischievous joy in helping Alastor slaughter the blackest of hearts in Hell. Honestly, only his personal shadow was bound to him and had to obey his orders. The other shadows came and went as they pleased though they were eager to assist when he called. They liked him, and he liked them. For decades before Niffty came into his life, the shadows and his thoughts had been his only companions, the strange creatures keeping him from falling into complete insanity from the isolation.
Therefore it came as no surprise that they’d come of their own volition this time to see why he hadn’t called out to them in almost two weeks. While Husk and Niffty were a huge help with little Moxxie, Husk’s prediction had been right: Taking care of a newborn was exhausting work, and a full night’s sleep was out of the question. Especially given Moxxie would wail and scream if separated from his guardian, only calming in Alastor’s arms. The Radio Demon hadn’t called to his shadow friends out of worry for what might happen. Just because Moxxie abided Alastor’s shadow didn’t mean that he would abide all of them.
As he opened one eye into a slit, Alastor realized he shouldn’t have been worried. Moxxie was sitting up, cooing curiously as the little shadows investigated him. Among their number were two larger shadows -- feminine in shape though still shorter than his personal shadow -- who petted the tufts of white hair on the impling’s head. (It was rare for larger shadows to show up. Alastor always wondered if perhaps those particular shadows originally belonged to sinners with similar powers who’d been erased.)
He rolled onto his stomach, careful not to roll on top of Moxxie. He stretched his left leg, then his right. Finally, he arched his back, his arms extended in front of him like a cat waking from a nap. His ears flattened for a moment before perking back up as he relaxed. He didn’t rise from the bed, still feeling a bit lazy, but settled back on his side as Moxxie gave a squeal of delight at him being awake and nuzzled him.
Alastor turned back towards where the shadows had been, the creatures having dived back into mundane shadows to hide in case he didn’t want them there. However, there was no hiding the gaps where the blackness wasn’t as dark, indicating where their eyes were.
“Come on out,” he coaxed, chuckling. “I know you’re curious about him. This is Moxxie. He’s going to be staying with me for quite a while.”
He wasn’t sure when exactly he’d decided that he’d raise the child (at least until Moxxie could take care of himself), but he had. Honestly, it was a good thing the introduction was being done now rather than in the middle of a potential emergency.
The shadow creatures immediately swarmed them, Alastor tensing for a moment on protective instinct. Then he calmed as Moxxie began experimentally waving his little hands about, giggling as they passed through the visitors. One of the two larger shadows attempted to pick Moxxie up but set him back down as he started to whine and whimper, turning his little head back towards Alastor.
“Not yet I’m afraid,” Alastor told the unhappy shadow. “Hopefully soon though.”
He’d stitched together a voodoo doll modeled after himself. It was currently tucked away in his shirt near his heart. Niffty had seen Moxxie relaxing after giving Alastor a sniff or two, so the Radio Demon was trying to imbue the doll with his scent before giving it to the baby. Even though it was risky to have such a poppet lying around (even if it was missing a few key components), it was the best solution he and his two demonic companions could think of. With a little luck, it would help keep Moxxie calm if Alastor had to step away from him.
Sudden bright light flooded through the window, sweeping away like a searchlight.
Alastor narrowed his eyes in resigned annoyance. “Looks like they finally fixed the lighthouse.”
Moxxie gave a cry of absolute terror, burying his face in Alastor’s chest, startling the old demon.
Adrenaline snapped Alastor fully awake as his ears swiveled about, trying to locate what might have upset the baby. The shadow creatures swirled around, hunting for a potential intruder, as Alastor prepared to call upon his eldritch powers to erase whoever they found. Only there was nobody there. No one was stupid enough to approach a seemingly harmless cottage on the edge of a small swamp or an abandoned radio tower, recognizing them as Alastor’s favored places to stay while wandering the Pride Ring.
“What’s wrong?” he asked the baby, wishing the little one could talk and tell him. “What is it?”
Moxxie lifted his face from Alastor’s chest, eyes and cheeks wet with tears. Then he gave another shriek and buried his face as the light from the lighthouse poured through the window again, sweeping over the pair.
It took a moment before Alastor turned his face towards the window, murmuring in confusion, “The lighthouse?”
It made no sense. There was nothing particularly scary about a lighthouse. In fact, many saw it as a beacon of safety given the purpose of such structures was to warn ships of dangerous coastlines.
But as the light once more swept through the window, Alastor’s eyes narrowed at the brightness before widening in realization.
“The light!”
He hastily swept his hand from side to side to close the heavy curtains with his magic. Realizing what Alastor was doing, the little shadows swarmed over the window to blacken it completely. The two larger shadows began soothingly petting Moxxie’s head as Alastor’s eyes darted around, hunting for any other way the bright light could enter the bedroom. He sat up fully, pulling Moxxie into his lap.
“It’s all right. It’s gone. They won’t hurt you.”
Cautiously, Moxxie raised his head again, looking around. Then the baby relaxed, cooing contentedly as he saw only the dim light that Alastor kept his temporary homes in.
Alastor could see quite well in the dark (as could Husk), so the dim light was more for Niffty’s comfort than his own. It was just bright enough for her to see small details clearly while still remaining comfortable for the Radio Demon’s shadowy friends.
This was the second time Moxxie had seen such bright light, the first being Execution Day when the Executioners had descended and slaughtered every demon around him.
“They’re not coming,” Alastor reassured Moxxie, holding the little one close. “Not today. I promise. They won’t touch you.” He felt his antlers grow a little as his claws and teeth sharpened. “They won’t ever touch you.”
He heard the shadows mutely echo his promise, a dire threat to both Heaven and Hell. He was carving a line in stone: So long as he existed, no one -- not angel or demon -- would harm his son and escape his wrath.