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Summary
Alastor, charitable soul that he was, had helped avert the crisis for a modest fee: two broken deals, a restored staff, and the removal of an electrical thorn from his side. If the performance had improved his standing with the princess and suggested the existence of a heart, that was an unfortunate side effect.
He could have done without the latter.
Still, the evening had freed him from years of restraint, and the exhilaration had yet to fade. When he watched Hell’s illustrious King crawl from the rubble, stumble, and flee alone, wounded and distracted, Alastor recognised an opportunity too rare to waste.
His shadow slipped through the closing portal far too easily. Alastor followed it to the outskirts and found Lucifer with his back turned, his ridiculous hat clutched to his chest.
Who could blame him for testing how vulnerable the King truly was?
The first tendril grazed Lucifer’s cheek and drew a bright line of gold.
Or Lucifer needs an Executioner and Alastor is insane enough to try his luck.