Algaliarept wasn't typically into the business of traveling long distances - Cincinnati and the Hollows bred more than enough people willing to deal with him - but, he felt, desperate times called for desperate measures. 'Times', in this case, referred specifically to the growing lack of those willing to do deals with demons. They were getting
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Here, I hadn't met another person who used lines like I did. Or, like I could. Bad idea to actually use them. Unless I had to. I was an earth witch, damn it. Safer that way. Anyway, it was odd to hear someone else talk about them. And these days, 'odd' equaled 'me reaching for my splat gun'.
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"A little," the demon smiled, readjusting his glasses. She wasn't close enough to see the slight blur of color underneath them, and Algaliarept made sure to keep that distance. He didn't want to give the game away just yet. "Just enough to know that using them isn't very healthy for the soul. From your recognition, I say you know something about them. Tsk, tsk."
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At this moment, I was regretting that. Something about this guy made me really want to have something ready to throw at him.
"So, if you don't know much, why name your bar after it?" Hey, I was a runner, not an investigator. Barrel in with both guns blazing was my motto. This guy wigged me out, so I wanted to know why. Therefore, the unsubtle route. "Seems kind of weird to name it after something you're clearly afraid of."
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She hadn't changed a bit. Even her aura still wore the black marks that he had given her, and those wouldn't be gotten rid of very easily. But he had to be careful - one wrong word could very easily give the game away, and he rather liked this situation. When she didn't know who he was, information might be so much easier to get.
The accusation of being afraid of ley-lines only made him tip his head to the side, a strange smile lurking in his expression. "Something I'm afraid of? Oh, dear me, no. I only said it was unhealthy, not scary. Much like cigarettes. They tend to blacken certain portions of your anatomy."
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'And why do you want to keep them fighting you? You take what you want and move on. Leave them cold inside, not hot. Anger means they're liable to come and kill you later,' Maia says critically. It's probably rude to sass him this much, especially as he's probably more powerful than her. But she doesn't care, as long as he doesn't know how much she's failed before.
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Removing his glasses to reveal his real eyes - red, with a horizontal split pupil like a goats - the demon tucked his glasses in his pocket and cocked his head. "Now, who do you work for, hmm?"
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'Yeah, but if you're a trainee, things go wrong,' she replies. 'I'd rather not take a chance until I'm sure they wouldn't be able to 'fight back'. Anyway, that takes about half the satisfaction out of sex, if you're fighting for control the whole way through. You establish it at the start and make it all about you.'
Maia shrugs, folding her arms. 'I work for the same thing you do.'
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But then, she did mention trainees. She didn't seem stupid enough to be a mere demon-in-training, but maybe she wasn't as into the idea of control as he was. Algaliarept shrugged. Whatever she was, she was delightful, arguing his point. "'Different folks, different strokes'," he quoted. "What's your name, love? Us demons have to stick together, you know," the demon smiled silkily.
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Good to see someone from back home every now and again!
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He didn't even care about the insinuation that that he was chasing after his familiar. Teasing 'Phil', as he went by these days, was too much fun. "Chasing after your little mark? Shameful, that," he mimicked.
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And now Algaliarept was shouting that insipid nickname around like a hyper whore in the middle of a condom factory. "Yes," he jerked his arm away. "It's actually 'Phil' right now."
Oh, but Al was going too far. A sudden blaze of anger lit the demon's eyes - and the hapless house-elf who was walking behind them. As the elf turned into a torch, the demon leaned in close to his colleague. "Careful, Al. I've taken good care of my mark, here. And yours. Check out her newest mark." The demon smiled, slow and oozing, like rot off of a corpse. "She's very sweet, your familiar. I have tasted her blood. And I'm close to breaking her down. Sad, really, how easy it was. I'd have expected more from someone who outwitted you." Then he laughed, rocking back on his heels and beaming at Algaliarept. "Or, on second thought, maybe not."
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The sudden burning inferno of a nearby house-elf didn't faze him, but what the other demon was talking about did. He had given Rachel Mariana Morgan a mark? It was simultaneously interesting and infuriating; she was his, and 'Phil' could never keep his hands to his own marks.
When the demon finished talking, Algaliarept raised his hands and clapped slowly, his glasses sliding down his nose. "Oh, bravo, you haven't changed at all, have you? Still the same old Paciscory, using words as if they were weapons." He smiled coldly. "I'd say I missed it, if not for the fact that I didn't."
Without warning, Algaliarept began changing shape, the red mist of the ley line swarming over his form and shaping it slowly. His eyes didn't change, and the shit-eating grin was probably out of place on Dean Winchester's mother, but it was a perfect likeness.
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Could he smell that last one? Ahh, maybe that was new.
"Hey, asshole!" Jenks announced in a loud, rude, sort of bellowing voice, flickering in out of nowhere with his wings flaring with an irritated red. "Think this castle's filled up on its demon quota for now! You can turn your ass around and skedaddle out, yeah?" He knocked his fist against Algaliarept's forehead, briefly, getting right into the demon's face with a pissed off expression of his own. "HELLO-O-O-O-O?"
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The irritation faded into curious amusement, and Algaliarept removed his glasses, tucking them into an inside pocket on his jacket. Jenks' anger did nothing to sway him. "I can't get anything by pixie noses, can I?" He mused.
He took a moment to sift through memories - nothing intrusive, simply something he could do without being caught - and then smiled, apparently politely. "And how is your wife?"
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Wife? Either it was taking a shot in the dark at the fact that he could possibly have a wife, or this thing was doing, well, what demons did best. Anywhere else, Matalina would have been within the two mile radius and Jenks would've fumbled out some lie about being a single guy, thanks for rubbing it in, asshole, sheez. But here... Matalina was miles away. For the first time, at Hogwarts, he felt SAFE smarting his mouth off to whomever he wanted. Until she showed up, of course.
...IF ...she showed up.
"Why, think she's hot?" he replied in a snarl nonetheless, folding his arms in a rather authoritative manner. "She doesn't do that swinger stuff, sorry. Better hit on someone your own size, git."
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Without warning, too quick to avoid, the demon reached out and enclosed a hand around Jenks. Though he took care not to crush the pixies wings - yet - the grip was nonetheless firm enough that Jenks wouldn't be able to escape.
Smiling coldly, Algaliarept leaned in close. Oh, he could use this little pixie; twist him and break him until he spilled out every single delicious detail about Rachel Mariana Morgan. "Tell me, bug, how long have you been here?"
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The angel plants her hands squarely on her hips. 'You've all started to blur into one.'
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As was her. "Now you are interesting, my girl," the demon cocked his head curiously, completely ignoring her 'greeting' and closing the distance between them. Hell on earth was a boring idea, anyway. There would be no goodness left to corrupt and pervert. "Purity is so rare these days."
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'It's not where I come from,' she says. 'But I understand in Hell it never lasts for very long. Purity.' Her hands change position to fold just under her chest, and her expression does not change; her chin is jutted out, her nostrils pinched and white with apprehension and a little fear, her eyes steady and blazing with hate. Hate isn't so pure--but Mel supposes any sort of angel must be a step up from what he's used to.
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He'd never actually met any angels, and therefore had no idea exactly what this woman was, but it felt close enough to sanctified ground that he knew he wouldn't be able to get too close. Which was probably a good thing - he didn't want blood on his suit. "No, not Hell," he repeated. "Just a different side of reality. Although... Heaven and Hell, what wonderful ideas. Appropriated justice, and all that."
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