Hell en Pointe | Alastor ✓

chapter 16

"He's planning on doing a ritual to get enough power to kill us."

Sweat had pooled beneath Vox's coat. He had his hands folded behind his back, pacing back in forth in front of the other Vees. Velvette lounged on the couch with her legs crossed in front of her, her hands folded in her lap, and for once, she wasn't glued to her phone. She actually looked just about as stressed out as Vox was.

Valentino, on the other hand, was leaning onto the armrest of the couch, smoking his cigarette and puffing out pink, heart-shaped clouds of smoke. He was anything but happy, his sharp-toothed grin downturned as he stared out the wall of windows of the Vees' mansion to his left.

"So we follow them," said Valentino, finally breaking his prolonged eye contact with the overcast maroon sky outside and looking glaringly at Vox. "We go to the Overworld. If they get the items for the ritual and are able to perform it, there's not much we can do after that, baby, but if we get them before they do," Val grinned, "well, I think it'll all turn out just fine."

"Are you all fucking mental?" exclaimed Velvette. "Going back to Earth? Through a portal?" Her eyes narrowed. "That old bitch Lucifer will throw us in the dungeons at his stupid ass palace and we'll all be royally fucked for all eternity rotting in those cells."

Valentino and Vox looked at her wordlessly, as if expecting this.

Velvette stood up, dusting off her striped pants. She held up her middle finger as she exited the room. "Have fun up there, fuckers. I'll be getting high and snorting lines while you two dumbass are up there with your noses up the Radio and Ballet Demon's arses." She then left the room, slamming the double doors shut behind her.

It was a lot quieter and relaxed with her gone, but a tension still hung irrevocably in the air. Valentino turned to Vox next. "Vox, darling? You in?"

Vox grinned, his teeth sharp. "Fuck yeah, Val. Let's make a fucking portal."

୨୧

The first thing you saw were trees.

You were surrounded by trees, the air smelling strongly of decay and wet earth. It was night outside, that familiar black and indigo night, not the maroon nights you were accustomed to in Hell. There were stars glittering faintly in the sky, and you spotted a few constellations you remembered. It was foggy and wet, and the ground squished underneath you as you tried to stand up.

"Ughhh," you groaned, holding your head in your hand. "Did we... did we make it?"

Silence. It was bitingly cold out here. You bit your lip with hardly any force, but you didn't feel the familiar sharp teeth that could usually tear the skin from your lips easily when you felt anxious. Instead, a blunt, straight surface landed on your plump bottom lip.

You were unnerved by the silence. It's like your instincts were screaming at you to feel threatened, that there was danger in the area. The more you looked around, the more you absorbed the state of your surroundings like a sponge. Tall oak trees, soggy black earth, crunchy leaves and fallen logs... the occasional critter scurrying to safety.

Scared, you slowly turned your head. "...Alastor?"

He — or somebody else, for that matter — was sitting sprawled on the ground, propped up on his elbows. The young man had tanned brown skin and brown hair, appearing of a non-American origin, perhaps Creole, you thought, and he was wearing an old fashioned vest and white button down with a bow-tie, black slacks, and dress shoes. He had a pair of oval-shaped spectacles on his face.

The strange man was still smiling, so you registered him as Alastor, but his teeth were pearly white and perfectly straight. His eyes were slim and dangerous looking, and his nose was sharp, his brows flawlessly shaped and tamed. He was beautiful.

"Of course," he snarled, and then murmured so quietly you hardly caught it, "...of all fucking places..."

"What?" you said, furrowing your brows.

Alastor stood up, dusting off his front and rear. He placed his hands on his lower back and stretched, looking around, taking in his surroundings like you were. He exhaled shakily through his nostrils. What was wrong with him? Did he know this place?

As if reading your mind, he began to speak: "This, my dear, is where I—" He had turned his head to you and froze.

The eye contact was prolonged and intense, and for a moment you thought you could hear his heartbeat. His breaths were slow and labored, as if he had forgotten how to draw oxygen into his lungs. He still towered over you, even on Earth.

Uh.. Why is he staring at me like that?

"What?" you said, his eyes never detaching from your form. His smile had dropped, something you had never seen from him ever before.

"You're...—" he shut his mouth so suddenly you thought he may break his jaw, like he was doing everything in his power to not finish his sentence.

You looked down at yourself. You were wearing a sparkling, glittering ballet outfit, which exploded with hues of violet, magenta, baby blue and soft greens. The skirt flared and the bosom was tight, and your waist was accentuated.

There was a small puddle, almost a pond, to your left. You walked over to it and peered down.

Your face was angular yet soft, like a motherly kind of beauty. You were youthful-looking and had bright blue-green eyes that were so piercing you thought your own reflection may stab you in the face. You saw your familiar button nose, a little crooked to the left, and your long, thick ebony eyelashes framing your almond eyes.

Your complexion was flawless, with the occasional freckle on your cheek or the bridge of your nose. Your hair was pinned into a tight, hairsprayed, gelled-down bun, with a few stray strands escaping. You touched your face. You forget how pretty you were.

You turned back to Alastor, who was still frozen in place and staring at you. Then, suddenly, he stopped, grabbing his collar with his index to let some air into his shirt. He cleared his throat and looked off into the distance.

"This is where you died?" You heard his words from earlier, and finished his sentence for him.

"Right you are," he said with a grin. It caught you off guard. You don't know if you'll ever get used to seeing him like this — human, handsome, dark, sexy—

"How?" You cut your thoughts off.

"Hm?"

"How did you die?" you asked.

He really smiled this time, with teeth, but you could see the flash of pain, annoyance, something behind his eyes. He wasn't very good at hiding his true emotions now that he was human with a human face and human feelings and human expressions.

"Come with me," said Alastor, ignoring your question. "My home is nearby."