Drag me to Hell so far

It's an Al fic. The Hollows, Kim Harrison. Not done yet.

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Well, this is quite the predicament, Al thought to himself as he stood by a (presumably) granite fountain that had the tendency to spit out fire once every minute. He had assumed for much of his natural... or unnatural... life that it was only possible to summon him if one was a fairly powerful purveyor of magic.

Apparently, he was wrong. Or so he could gather, in any case, seeing as the woman with black wings who had failed to circle him was dead within mere moments of his arrival. Not only that, but the woman had been pleading at his feet that she had only been reading a novel.

"Perish the thought," Al muttered. It was highly unlikely that was the case. And yet...

Al shook his head.As long as I am here, he thought, I may as well take advantage of it before the dawn breaks. He took a few long strides away from the fountain, and then stopped. But what if...?

He tried to clear his mind again. Damn it all, but he was being childish. Worrying about a pathetic summoner who seemed to have no concept of the term 'protection'. Besides, this was an opportunity, not a curse. He hadn't had any interesting selling pieces for ages, and it seemed as if this place might be rife with them. With a shake of his sleeves and a quick change from posh-Englishman to stereotypical-Goth, Al was off down the cobblestone pathway.

It was about an hour before anything really caught Al's attention. He had been walking through streets filled with the black-winged people, all of them in all likelihood conspiring to make everyone else on the path miserable. And boy, did they let him know it--he had been pushed, shoved, sworn at, nearly sliced in half twice and given a kick in the ass by a brat who quickly learned not to piss off an ancient demon. But despite all the commotion and scurry that seemed to be their marketplace, Al did not see a single thing that caught his attention.

However, when he found himself walking on red sand instead of cobblestone footpath, the demon Algaliarept took notice. The place that he was heading into looked entirely different from anything he had ever seen before, but at the same time it was strangely... familiar. It was almost too familiar, and a feeling of unease crossed Al as he walked through the dusty streets. He quickly reverted back to his luxurious green frock coat and long brownish-red hair, his accustomed dress giving him a sensation of comfort. It was a sensation that he desperately needed as he continued to stroll down the path, hoping he was wrong on his first eerie observations.

At first, there seemed to be nobody around. Al decided that this was for the best; he already felt strange enough about the place he was in. Every building, every alley, every streetcorner was beginning to remind him more and more of his home base in the ever-after. It was unnerving.

And then, before he could even realize it, he felt a tug on the bottom of his coat.

"Mithter?"

Al whipped around, his hair getting into his face. He peeled off a few strands, and found himself staring down at a little red girl with horns and a swishing tail. He blinked once, twice, three times, then managed to choke out, "Y...Yes?!" Oh, how undignified... he thought, kicking himself mentally.


"Are you a thpy?"

"No," Al said, trying to keep his voice as patient as possible, "I am a demon, one who will murder you if you do not let go of my coat this instant." The girl blinked a couple times, then opened her mouth, revealing a half-chewed lollipop and an amount of drool he could have sworn he had seen hanging out of an angry were once.

"Bleeeehhh, you're not a demon," the girl insisted, drool spraying everywhere. "You're a thtupid fallen pretending to be a demon."

Al was incensed. To put it mildly. He grabbed the girl by her neck, tempted to choke the living daylights out of her.

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More later.