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Lucifer walked down the well-lit corridor. This morning, there had been a commotion at the hotel. A busy crowd filled the space, hazy faces blending into each other; the overworked hotel manager tried to deal with those disgusting sinners, and the ever-forgiving head counselor tried to keep things under control. Lucifer didn’t know exactly what had sparked it all, but somehow, it had been pushed back to the lobby to be dealt with. The joke of a hotelier showed up eventually, dressed in his usual eccentric suit, and everything calmed down.
There was still one problem: Lucifer had lost something very important. A rubber ducky.
Not just any rubber ducky, either. This particular one, painted in vibrant reds reminiscent of poppies, and polished with a fine sheen, was the star in his latest mock-up play: Deer Evan Hansen. Somewhere in the chaos, it had gone missing. And now it was cold, isolated. Vulnerable. The only thing Lucifer could recall was that it must’ve been somewhere on this floor; he remembered the vase that had been knocked over during the ruckus. Of course, the maid had cleaned it up immediately, but the corridor no longer had the same symmetry. The roses were removed. The loss of it would sadden Lucifer.
He could easily make a perfect replica, of course. But that would diminish the value of the original. Worse still, it would rob him of the simple pleasure of having a genuine object to call his own. Not many knew that his favorite rubber duckies were the ones with little to no magic. Just ordinary toys, untouched by the supernatural. They were a small escape from his reality, something that took him back to a simpler time in Heaven.
Lucifer turned the corner, and stopped dead in his tracks. At the end of the hall, his latest creation sat unharmed on the carpeted floor. Not cold and isolated as he had suspected, but watched and toyed with by a tall shadow who smiled crookedly, antlers growing out of its head. He recognized it as the shadow which entertained the Red Guy’s antics. Its inhuman hands bent in a way which showed little care for its joints, big claws surrounded the duck’s projected shadow. His brows furrowed.
“Oh, no no no —” Red glitter poofs near the dark entity. The duck is picked up in one smooth swoop. “This isn’t for you.” Lucifer says, before gently blowing on it.
Surprise flashed across the shadow’s face at the sudden appearance. Its hands curled in a grabbing motion at the place the duck used to be. It puts distance between itself and the King of Hell, its back arched to make itself seem bigger. The shadow’s eyes mimicked evil, but its stance reminded him of a stray alley cat.
“What?”
Lucifer casts a cautionary glance around him. The halls were empty and quiet, aside from the occasional distant conversation. Following along the shadow’s body, the dark trail lead to underneath the double doors, to the lobby. The Radio Demon was, in fact, not here. His shadow had wandered on its own.
He turned to face it, allowing his stance to relax a little. Ever since his arrival at the hotel, he’s had his suspicions on the Red Deer. To see his shadow wander the halls unattended was definitely suspicious.
“Hmm.”
One hand lifts and presents the rubber ducky. The shadow, reluctant and distrustful of the king, scrutinized him with one eye. He insists, and gestures with his head. It slowly moves, and attempts to unstick itself from the wall. No success. He can’t help but chuckle at the attempt. The shadow squints at him; he grins.
Then, after short consideration, it climbed upwards Lucifer’s body, around like a snake entrapping its prey, using it as an area to project on.
“Oop,” he blurts, surprised. Sensing it stop in his movements, he makes an effort to go still. With a shy laugh, “Ookay, go ahead.”
From where he stood, he couldn’t see its face, but felt its eyes on his back. Its arm coiled along his, noticeable thanks to his white suit, and with their hands synced, it attempts to move the object. Once again, no success. Despite the lack of contact, Lucifer — bearer of light and creation — feels the weight on his body.
In the past, he’d seen the shadow hold physical objects. There had been instances where, petty as he was, it had pulled down his hat so as to mock him, at his command. But, it was when the sinner was active that the shadow was active. It was shadow manipulation in its purest form. Lucifer, although capable, wasn’t one for shadow manipulation. For as long as he could remember, he had the heart of a showman, and preferred a good light show. That’s why he taught Charlie how to create beautiful fireworks: light manifests hope.
When this weirdo adopts the role of observer, which usually consists of him standing in a corner and watching everyone else socialize, his shadow would stay by his side. In a passive state, it seems to be just as is: a shadow. Lucifer was fairly certain, however, that whatever stood in front of him was a separate entity, as he suspected his pride would have never allowed him to be seen interacting with one of his rubber duckies.
As the shadow watched, it made no attempts of backhanded mockery. Though with no audio, it was difficult to tell with the Radio Demon. At the smallest shift in posture, the shadow had retreated, back to the wall in front of him. Was it capable of fear?
He placed the duck on the ground.
“... What can you do?”
The shadow squinted at him. He suspects his tone hadn't come out right. It wasn’t like he owed the thing any sympathy, after all, it was probably related to some evil curse. The shadow adopts a thinking pose, looking upwards as if deep in thought. It was as expressive as Alastor. It rose to the nearest mounted candelabra, and — without ever touching it — dimmed the lights. Its presence grew in the space around him, as if everywhere, all at once. Its eyes showcased glee. Lucifer was surrounded, but the feeling wasn’t new. Everything light touches casts a shadow, and eyes lurked in both.
“Can you pick it up now?” he questioned, unfazed by the display of power.
The shadow blinked rapidly, then tried again, but like the past two attempts, no success. He hummed. Flicking his fingers, the candles burned once more. He had an idea.
Lucifer crouched, one knee resting on the floor. He closed his eyes, and rubbed his hands together. The shadow, missing the Radio Demon’s signature smile, watched curiously with beady eyes. Lucifer held the duck with one hand. With his staff, he gently pushed his creation against the ground, and felt it flatten. Soon enough, it became a shadow rubber ducky. It’s been a while since he’d turned a three dimensional object into a two dimensional one, and he usually preferred the artistry of creating stained glass. It was another hobby of his. But, after his banishment to hell, he stopped doing them.
Delighted at the new prop, it beamed. As much as a shadow could, anyway. It rubbed its hands, similarly to how Lucifer had done seconds prior, and grabbed it. Immediately, the duck is chucked into its mouth. Lucifer stiffens as his face flushes in disbelief. He’s about to scold the entity, perhaps even blast it with holy light, when the shadow pulls the duck from behind its ear, similarly to a magic show.
“You cheeky ... !” he smiles, then puts a hand on his waist. The shadow, seemingly satisfied at the king’s reaction, bows.
This entity wasn’t Alastor, no. But was it a reflection of him? Its presence seemed more tolerable, more subtle. Making sure no one was nearby, he leaned in, a flash of inspiration in his eyes. His hand, glowing gold, pressed against the wall where the shadow lingered. This time, it seemed eager to see the end of his magic, which fueled his pride. Slowly, ink seeped out of his fingers, and a shape took form beside it — a shadow of his own. Wings adorned the fallen angel’s form, two large horns sprouting from its head. His hat was missing, a last minute creative decision to keep his silhouette clear and recognizable. This new entity, to which he refused to name, was not bound by a soul, but only mirrored his own.
His shadow sprang to life. Immediately, Alastor’s shadow bowed in respect to the other. Already, it carried itself with far more grace than the real counterpart ever managed. And maybe, partly because there is no sound emanating from the exchange, the moment felt infinitely more welcoming than their first encounter. Further proving Alastor had no rights speaking as much as he did.
It then offered the duck back to Lucifer’s shadow. His shadow’s wings fluttered at the gesture, unmistakably delighted. Lifting the toy to its lips, it blew on it, and a flurry of tiny birds burst forth like soap bubbles. Amused, Alastor’s shadow applauded. One by one it pops the bubbles with its talon. His shadow puffed its chest out proudly, wings fluttering, and the other takes the rubber ducky to try for itself. One lopsided bird popped out, wobbling through the air like a deflated balloon. He couldn’t look away from the unfolding scene. Lucifer’s shadow laughs, shoulders shaking in voiceless laughter.
Suddenly, a force yanks Alastor’s shadow towards the double doors. Presumably summoned by its host. Its hand reaches out, attempting to grab hold of the other; his shadow reciprocates the gesture. To his surprise, the angel attempts to follow the demon, whisking past his feet. His face warms in both fear and embarrassment. Before it slips away, he stomps the ground, stopping it from moving any further. Distraught, its eyes grew in size. Alastor’s shadow attempts to crawl, Lucifer’s shadow struggles to break free. No sound emanated from them, and yet, panic bloomed in his chest, their suffering palpable.
And then, he was gone. The angel’s wings lowered, his horns retracted. An abandoned disheveled bird, with pristine white feathers tainted crimson red, responsible for the creation of evil. For a moment, Lucifer just stood there, the air growing heavier the longer he waited.
With a tap of his cane, he lets go of his shadow.