The Riddle Of Magic

Chapter 22: Support In Staccato

Charlie's hand was frozen on the doorknob, and she wondered for a moment if her stress had caused her to hallucinate. She blinked, and saw the white-clad King of Hell was still there, standing on her doorstep. "Dad... you're here..."

"Well, I was advised you were in need of my help! What kind of father wouldn't see his daughter in her time of need?"

The Devil's smile was toothy and wide, but didn't reach his eyes.

Charlie's hand twitched.

She wanted help, of course she did! She wanted her partner healthy again. Wanted the hotel back to normal, so she could keep working on redeeming her people.

She wanted her father too, but not standing so close as to threaten her dream. This place only stood because he willed it. If he grew displeased then it would vanish, as if it had never been to begin with.

She really didn't know what he thought of the idea of redemption. He kept his feelings on most subjects closeted, and when he did decide to act against something, his motives were known only to himself.

It made him impossible to please, and the princess suspected he liked the game of being utterly unpredictable.

"Am I going to be invited in?" the King asked. "Or are we just talking in the doorway?"

No invitation was necessary. He would go where he pleased, as any ruler would. "It's your building, Dad," she gestured him inside. "Of course you can come in."

He entered, looking around without much interest. The King and Queen had brought the hotel building, but left the arrangement of running it to her. She rarely heard from either of her parents, who answered her messages when they pleased.

Charlie tried to recall the last time she had spoken to her mother in real time. Before she'd left the palace, certainly. She was always busy with some project.

Her father was the same. She saw them only for social functions where royalty was needed. Even the official painting of them had been a quick picture, with the actual brushwork done afterward.

All three of them being together, like a family? Not since she'd petitioned for her redemption program. And even that encounter had been brief, with her parents agreeing without much of a discussion at all.

Weeks of stress, months even, fretting over how she was going to persuade her parents to support her, only to be brushed aside with a passive agreement.

No pride or curiosity, or even caution. Just a wave of her father's hand and the conversation was done. What was she supposed to think of his opinion of her dream - either he didn't mind it, or straight up didn't care.

He never answered her calls, but had showed up at her door.

Why?

The King's dark eyes glanced about the lobby. "A bar?" he drawled. "I thought your goal was to discourage sin?"

Husk watched him mindfully as he approached. "Get you a drink, Highness?" he offered.

Lucifer took a casual seat, removing his hat and sitting it on the chair to his right, leaning his cane against the empty seat. "How about an apple martini?" he decided after a thoughtful moment.

Husk nodded, turning to make his drink.

The seraph leaned his chin on his interlaced fingers, watching the bartender work, sitting as familiarly as if this was his favorite bar in all of Hell, as if he'd ordered here a thousand times. As though the Hotel was his.

It technically was, as was the rest of this plane. If that were to ever be challenged, it would mean war.

"Come, Charlie. Let's catch up," her father called without looking back to her.