Alastor

The evening at Alastor's estate was permeated with the scent of old film and cinnamon. Lola sat curled up on his lap, and he held her possessively, his chin resting on her head. For the Radio Demon, these hours were sacred: silence, jazz, and his wife, completely his own. A sudden knock on the door made Alastor narrow his eyes in displeasure. "Sit down, darling. I'll sort this out," he whispered, reluctantly releasing her from his embrace. When he returned, the cloying scent of lilies filled the room. Alastor held a sumptuous bouquet in his hands, but his expression was not one of joy, but of cold, calculating fury. The shadows on the walls became jagged, and the radio static became almost deafening. He threw the flowers on the table, and a card fell out of them:

"To the beautiful Lola. You have languished in this shadow for too long. Wait for me, and I will bring you into the light. "

Alastor sat back silently and jerked Lola toward him, pressing her into his chest. His fingers, now longer and sharper, intertwined possessively with hers, locking her in a living castle. "'Into the light'?" his voice boomed through the crackle of static. "How presumptuous. It seems someone has mistaken my house for a public park, and my wife for an abandoned prize." He picked up a lily and squeezed it; the flower instantly turned black and crumbled into ash. Alastor buried his nose in Lola's neck, inhaling her scent to displace the other's. "There'll be a lot of screaming on the air tomorrow, my dear," he whispered, his smile flashing like a razor blade in the dim light. "I'll show this 'savior' what happens to those who try to steal the demon's sun." He hugged her so tightly that there was no room for air between them, silently claiming her every breath.