Reckless - TsundereForHire - Hazbin Hotel (Web Series) [Archive of Our Own] (2024)

Chapter 1: Brothers

Chapter Text

Michael "Mia" Miller
Boston, MA

Ungrateful trash mongers.

Mia sighed and made another lap around the 100+ filled lecture hall.

Her best friend, Gemma, had bribed her into proctoring an exam in her stead. Last night, Gemma, in all of her bohemian vibes and wistful ways, drank too much with the postdocs at the humanities college. The woman in question was a graduate student like Mia, only in the math department, and had a burning passion for the hipsters and depressed wretches that packed the philosophy department. Though Mia had no room to judge. The physics department was predominately comprised of high functioning alcoholics, egomaniacs, and morons who thought Richard Feynman was synonymous with Hugh Hefner.

Her eyes flitted down the back row. One student was literally sleeping during the exam, another obviously cheating with their cellphone, and a third on the verge of a total meltdown. How sad.

Mia felt for the girl losing her mind, jumping back and forth between questions. What sucked the most was that Mia knew the not-so-sneaky cheater would probably get farther than the sweet girl barely holding herself together. The world was a sh*t place like that where fear and anxiety would more likely bury one alive before punishing another person for immoral and unethical behavior.

Circling back to the front of the room, she clacked on the chalkboard with her nails. “That’s time. Please bring down your exams.”

Students piled up tests haphazardly on the table. The poor girl, almost in tears, was one of the last ones to do so and Mia looked her dead in the eyes.

“What’s your name?” She asked, picking up the girl’s exam.

“C-Caylee To-or-rris.” She sputtered meekly. Mia felt like she was watching a field mouse cowering in a corner from a hungry cat.

Mia eyed the exam. It wasn’t awful, but only two questions were fully answered. Six were blank. “Miss Torris, you are aware that the math department offers free tutoring, correct?”

She fidgeted with her backpack, nodding. Mia’s expression softened. “Get out your pencil. Be quick.”

Caylee gaped, but did as she was told. Mia handed back the exam and started scrawling across the chalkboard. On the board were three solutions for the exam. Two of them were technically incorrect, but this would at least be enough to get the girl a C. Her eyebrows raised expectantly at the younger girl. “Get to it.”

With lightning speed, the shivering student jotted down the math on the chalkboard and handed back the exam. Caylee’s face contorted even more, large hot tears spilling silently down her olive cheeks. “Wh-wh-y did you do th-that?”

Mia sighed. “Caylee, free math tutoring is hosted in the student union every weekday at 8pm. There are also free therapy sessions available to students. I suggest you take yourself to both.”

The student’s mouth hung open, and her cheeks were blazing red. Regardless, Caylee smiled, muttered a meek thank you, and left.

I must have a brain injury.

If it got out, it would land her in so much trouble. Sure, it was unethical, but Mia never quite concerned herself with ethics. If she wouldn't snitch on the cheaters, then she could at least lend a hand to those who were easily defeated. The feeling to help, even to her own detriment, was impossible to ignore at times.

With the exams gathered up in a box and delivered to the TA office, she walked out with her cellphone up to her ear. The phone rang and rang, but there was no answer from Gemma. Once more, she tried calling her friend up to check on that hangover, but no luck.

Thankfully, it was Friday and Mia had zero commitments for the next 24 hours. Of course, there was always something she could do. Data to go through, papers to write, grant requests to revise, emails …. Blah blah blah.

Her life as a young professional was exhausting, and now she wanted to take one night off.Ideally, she and Gemma could hit up a few bars. Meet a few guys. Make a few memories. That girl was a whirlwind party animal and probably had over 300K instagram followers. Mia just did not understand the appeal. Gemma made a terrible habit of throwing tantrums about not being able to post party selfies and stories that included Mia.

Outside the building with a venti latte was her ultra wonderful, soon-to-be-boyfriend Milton. Though he was unaware of her plan.

Stylish cropped blond hair, a smart pair of spectacles, and looked like a posh British model, accent and all. Girls on campus envied her every time she was seen with the angelic man. Smugness washed over her as she watched him gently reject a girl’s phone number. Mia gleefully sauntered over, hands clasped behind her back, a grin spreading ear to ear.

“Well, hellooooo,” she giggled, taking the coffee from him and threading herself through his arm. A sip of the hot latte caused her to practically purr. “Ohh, it is too good! You’re wonderful Milton.”

Praise be to the gods of coffee.

He scoffed and looked down his nose at her. Milton could be a bit of an ass, but she was a fan. He had snark and she liked that.

“How’s Gemma feeling?” He asked as they started strolling across the blustery campus. The weather was divine and bright for a Massachusetts autumn day. She loved the sharp cold, feeling nothing but elation and joy with her man candy and hot drink. And here he was also checking up on her friend.

Milton was the kind of guy that only existed once every millennium, and Mia had every intention of sinking her claws into him. Her younger brothers always accused her of being an overly vain, borderline greedy perfectionist. That hardly seemed like a flaw! Ambition flowed through her body like blood, and in the words of Ariana Grande: I see it. I like it. I want it. I got it.

“Do you know that you’re perfect?” She hummed.

A smirk played across his lips and he shrugged. “Only when you remind me. And Gemma?”

“I guess she’s fine? I haven’t heard from her since last night. I think she ended up crashing with Layton or Alex. But I want to make sure she hasn’t drowned herself in the bath at home.”

Gemma stood as a pillar in Mia’s heart. That warm and caring nature made Mia feel at peace. Well, when Gemma wasn’t partying her face off. Honestly, Mia wished she was sexually or romantically attracted to her darling friend. Then Mia could say she found THE ONE, close up shop, and call the business of her love life finished. Dating never quite turned out the way she wanted. People could be attractive, and she had a type, but something always felt astronomically lacking. And aside from that, Gemma was ethically polygamous.

Mia giggled at the thought of joining a harem at Gemma’s feet. “Are you over there plotting world domination again?”

Her giggle morphed into a full-bodied laugh. “Of course I am! I would make the best dictator. Actually, I had a thought that if I wanted to be sister husbands to Gemma’s flames, she would welcome me with open arms … and legs. She’s utterly too precious.”

“Your jealousy would be the death of everyone in that situation,” he retorted. His voice carried uncharacteristic venom. Mia could feel the negativity rattling in that sentence. What was this reaction? Especially from Milton. She didn’t bother looking up at him and let the comment slide.

“I would love it if we could get some drinks this evening, whadya say Milton? Let this girl go and show you off to the whole town, hmm?” Milton seemed to think it over too hard. Mia didn’t get him some days, but he was surely a prize to be won. Typically, he responded to her flirtation and humor with a kind smile.

“I think that’s a plan.” Mia let out a cheer.

“Wonderful. Care to hang around with me and Gemma at home until I’m ready?”

With that, they strolled quietly to her off-campus apartment. Their walk fell silent and something seemed odd. Was he having an off day? While she didn’t know too much about him, she knew his family ran a large business. Perhaps there was some drama with them that kept him stressed? Many people called her a loudmouth, but when it came to Milton, she didn’t push. It never got her anywhere. Mia pondered over her theories concerning his mood until they faced her dark green apartment door.

Pushing her way in, she sang, “Gemmaaaaaaaa!”

No response. Maybe she was till hungover and passed out? Milton grabbed her shoulder from behind. Was this it? Was he gonna make a move?

Mia turned to look at him and instead of the lustful Adonis she hoped for, a concerned look crossed his face. He held a finger up to his lips, but apparently Mia was a dumbass. “Milton, what the f*ck?”

Instinct kicked in. His odd manner caused her stomach to twist, and she bolted into Gemma’s room. A scream welled in her throat but didn’t escape. In the messy room was Gemma and a … creature?

Blood soaked the carpet. Pools seeped into the bedding and spilled onto the floor. The tattooed, petite Asian girl was gagged, glassy eyed, mangled. Standing next to the bed was a bulky figure. The thing held a much too large, ornate cleaver with mottled blue skin and horns twisting in opposite directions. In that moment, Mia acted with no real sense of self preservation. Only a raging instinct to protect.

“What the f*ck!?”

She launched herself at the beastly intruder. Milton came in at that exact moment. With inhumanspeed, his hand twisted into her lion’s mane hair and tossed her to the floor like a doll. As she collided back first with the floor, she glimpsed Milton rushing above her. Mia crawled over to the bed, eyes never leaving Milton. Just before bringing what looked like a scimitar down the monster’s shoulder, it blinked out of existence.

Gracefully, he stood up and looked the same but not the same. Her eyes looked at the gorgeous weapon in his hand. The blade looked like melted gemstones with a silver core. It took a second longer for her to remember Gemma’s mangled form on the bed. “Gemma! Hey. Wake up!”

The sticky blood didn’t deter her from pulling the girl’s limp form into her arms. Despite being shallow, she was still breathing. Milton already had Gemma’s phone and used one of her limp hands to open it. He dialed 911, repeated the address twice, then muted the phone.

“Michael. We have to go,” he said sternly, using her given name for emphasis.

“Absolutely not. Look at her!” Milton grabbed her upper arm with a strength she didn’t know he had. It took no effort for him to drag her to the balcony, kicking and cursing at him. “Milton, what the f*ck is all of this sh*t? I can’t leave her here like that. We have to wait for the ambulance!”

“And how do you expect to explain what happened here? Do you really think it is a smart idea to tell them about the demon?”

Demon?

Mia started flailing at him full force. His eyes glowed a pale blue, sclera and all. Instantly, her arms and legs gave out. Milton picked her up and made way to the balcony. One swift jump later, they were flying above. Mia could at least turn her head to see six wings on his back. They dangerously sped between buildings, but no one noticed them.

Seconds later, Milton dropped to the rooftop of a large building. Gently, she was placed against the wall and felt absolutely dumbfounded. Since her arms and legs were dead weights, he was kind enough to move her hair out of her face and mouth.

“Milton! What the f*cking f*ck is this f*cking sh*t?” Her vocabulary was the only way she could express her anger, confusion, and frustration. His face twisted in anger, but he ignored her and walked a few steps away to make a phone call.

“Vas, we’re headed your way. Open the portal.” Milton hung up and stared back at her, obviously irritated.

“Milton!” she demanded.

“Stop calling me that.”

“Stop calling you by your name? Or let me guess, that is obviously not your name. Ok Mr. Feather Duster, what should I call you?” Did she even have good sense? It was painfully clear to her now that she did not know who he was, and she also did not know what his motives were. Was he some bored creature she just got too caught up with? Was all of this an accident? She sincerely hoped it was.

A bright sigil appeared on the wall next to her. “My name is Gabriel.”

An instant later they were standing on the porch of a cabin, surrounded by mountains, a lake, and thick pines. Mia had free movement of her limbs again and took the opportunity to grab him by the coat collar. “Ok, Gabriel. So spill it. What is going on?” Before he could answer her, another voice chuckled from the door frame.

“You guys should come in. It’ll be dark soon and the wolves might be hungry.” A short stick of a man stood gazing at them, but more so at her. He dressed in wide, black trap pants, a mesh undershirt, and a very jagged, oversized venom green cropped t-shirt. His blunted bangs mostly covered his eyes, and a chain hung from a nose ring to his ear. The kid looked all of 14 or 15. He walked over to the pair and grabbed one of Mia’s hands from Gabriel’s coat.

Mia snatched her hands back to her sides. “Creep! Take it you aren’t actually a kid, though?”

“Wow, she really has no idea. Talk about crazy. But no. I’m old, just not as old as you, sister.” Mia had three younger brothers, but this punk wasn’t one of them. Gabriel pushed her inside as a wolf bayed in the distance. The kid went over to a bar cart and poured them all drinks while she begrudgingly sat down on a couch.

“I’m not your sister, punk.”

“Yes you are Michael.” How’d he know her name? At a very young age she had felt so alienated from kids bullying her for having a boy’s name that she no longer told anyone. Mister Milton-Gabriel-Feather-Duster might have spilled the beans though. The kid sat down a wooden tray of whisky and water, then handed her a glass.

“You don’t recognize me do you?” After pushing back his bangs, she noticed a deep scar running the entire length of his forehead. The scar was several shades paler against his tanned olive skin that made his Japanese features seem sharp and cunning.

“Can’t recognize someone I’ve never met. What’s your name?” The whisky was good though.

He curled himself into the armchair across from her. “Vassago. You tossed me out with Luci. Ring a bell yet?”

She slammed back the drink because this day was not going well. So far she had some random not-brother, a potentially dead best friend, Mr. Feather Duster, Lucy-whoever-the-f*ck-she-was, a big bad blue evil guy, and her entire night ruined.

“Another,” she demanded. Vassago snapped his fingers and the glass refilled. Cool party trick.

“So you guys want to tell me what is actually going on before I lose my sh*t? Like maybe starting with the blue freak who mutilated my best friend?” Her tone was accusatory, eyes glaring at Gabriel.

“Mia,” he said in a softer voice. The nickname being used to lower her defenses. “I am an archangel. My name is Gabriel and this is our brother Vassago We -” She cut him off with a hollow laugh.

“Our brother? You’re my brother too? sh*t my mom must have been the town bicycle and my dad the number one hose on the truck. Glad I didn’t f*ck you at least.” Vassago cackled, wiping tears from his eyes. Gabriel was so frustrated and looked so pissed that the younger was just eating it up. In appreciation for his sister’s humor, he topped up her glass. “Cheers. Can I call you Mia?”

“Uh. Sure … so you’re an angel too?”

Vas shrugged waving his hand in a so-so, “Fallen, but yeah. It’s a touchy subject.”

“Let’s say for the next ten minutes I give you guys the benefit of the doubt and believe every single thing you say. What’s the deal here? What’s going on? And more importantly, what happened to Gemma?”

Vassago interjected, “Gabe, what happened?”

The assault of questions was maddening. Their entire situation was maddening. “We encountered a Pagan satyr in her apartment. It found her roommate, a human named Gemma. And before you ask, I do not know what it was doing there. It’s been ages since I’ve had to deal with Pagans.” Gabriel shifted his gaze onto Michael.

“I think you can guess well enough who we are. Who you are Michael. Vassago received word last year that you were alive and we set out to find you. To see if it truly was you.”

That inkling had grew in her mind this whole time. Could they really believe that she was the Michael? It was a preposterous thought. Her mother was a devout Catholic and drilled the Bible into her four children. Mia may be named Michael but she was no mystical and mighty being.

“Maybe you guys have the wrong Michael. I’m not a dude. I can’t do any magic tricks. Compared to you both, I’m as vanilla as they come. Plus, if I’m your sister, why don’t I know you? Don’t tell me I’ve stepped into some teen novel bullsh*t. And again, if I’m your sister, why the f*ck did you lead me on? Gross.”

A smack filled the room as Gabriel defeatedly dropped his face in his hands. Then he groaned, loud and long. Stubborn to the last second, she was. Every time.

In the back of her mind, she knew her excuses were lame. Both of them already demonstrated abilities that she couldn’t fathom. Mia felt remarkably, irrevocably human in comparison. Vassago got up without a word and brought over a box. He dropped it on the couch next to her and sat on the floor, shuffling and organizing the contents for her inspection.

Records. Photos. Odd and old pieces of jewelry. Letters. Medical papers. Even a couple sets of car keys. All the contents ranged from the 1940s to the 1980s. Once more she poured the whisky down her throat. Maybe her fourth glass? At least she was still partying somehow.

Mia plucked through the items dumbstruck and tipsy. The alcohol made all of this easier to believe. It was her face in every single photo. Every family photo included different people of the exact same composition: a mom, dad, herself, and three younger brothers. While middle names, family names, and locations varied, she was always Michael.

“I think this is the first time you’ve lived past 26,” Vassago commented whilst bringing out death certificates. There were five.

“Bummer.”

With a new lease on the situation she looked at them bewildered. There just wasn’t a good explanation for this. She hated what they said, what they showed her, what they were able to do. Pretty much nothing here could be refuted. Mia wasn’t in the business of denying the obvious or playing the stupid cliche girl in the movie who denied the angsty plot point until it was too late. But seriously, what did this mean for her?

So many concerns filled her head. All of them pummeled each other to escape her mouth but it was just too overwhelming so she sat speechless.

Another ten minutes of silence passed. “So Luci … you mean Lucifer? Like the Lucifer? Bible, Jesus, Adam, Eve, all that mumbo jumbo?”

Vassago and Gabriel nodded in agreement. “But you said Pagans?”

Another nod, but no explanation. Cool. Cool. Super cool.

“So why can’t I go home? From the looks of all this, I’m not relevant. Allegedly, I live, I die. I’m none the wiser. Why f*ck with that?” Mia wanted to know, but since she was not special as a human, and all of her past lives seemed text book normal, why uproot her?

“Why do you think Gemma was targeted, Mia?” If her jaw could screw shut any tighter her teeth would shatter.

Meekly she responded, “I don’t know.”

Poor Gemma. The memories of the girl’s twisted limbs, the smell of metallic blood, and the sound of shallow wheezing made her stomach turn. Mia gagged and ripped the ottoman lid open. She slumped down onto the floor, head hanging over what looked to be a couple magazines and throw blanket. A soft hand stroked her back and held her hair. She expected to see Gabriel but the flash of neon in her peripheral proved otherwise.

“Thanks Vas. Sorry.” He just cooed soft words to her as Gabriel went to grab a towel.

They gave her a few minutes to recoup. Vassago helped her back up onto the couch to lean back. They gave her a glass of water to replace the whisky she’d been emotionally dependent on moments ago.

Gabriel sat on the floor with his siblings. “Mia, I am sorry. No one knows about you except for Vassago and I. We had zero intentions of changing your life …” His voice became distant and sad. “I made a rash decision in bringing you here.”

Great. Now she felt gross and guilty. Heaving her drunk self over she threw her arms around his neck. “I may not know you. Like actually know you or everything about you but I think I know the kind of person you are Milton. Wait, wait, wait.”

The words rolled around in her mouth but she continued. Pulling back a little, with the overly sweeping manner of a drunk person, she smiled softly, “Sorry, I suppose I should say Gabriel. Really, you could have left Gemma and I there to die. But you didn’t. I would have been fine I guess. Obviously. Just do the whole song and dance all over again. You decided to save my best friend and keep me safe. So we’re like super chill, ya know?” The drunkenness was coming through more as she started rambling.

“But f*ck,” she groaned playfully with an overly dramatic, drunken wink, “why did I have to have such a hot brother.”

Vassago joined the hug as her head lolled off to one side. With unexpected ease Vassago gathered up his older sister and giggled. “I’ve never seen her drunk. I’m glad to know the mighty Michael isn’t so perfect after all.”

Michael ruffled his shiny black hair, “I’ve never seen you at all!” The men settled her into a small guest bedroom. Gabriel magically snapped her into an oversized shirt and shorts. They made their way back into the living room, once more snapping to clean up the bile and filth.

“Do you think they were looking for you?” Asked Vassago. No one knew he was in the mortal plane except Lucifer.

“Again, I don’t know. We’ll have to do some digging. I’ll contact my people, you contact yours.”

“Why did you bring her here? After what she put you through? You really could have just left her there. You had many, many better options than this. You don’t owe her anything, Gabe.” His younger brother’s analysis was correct.

“Angels existing in disarray without their general. Hell’s overpopulation. The seal collapsing. Now, Pagans suddenly exposing themselves in the mortal plane. I have a feeling we’re only in the beginning.” He said it as if it were an answer. Maybe he missed her. Maybe he just wanted her back.

Chapter 2: Radio Demon

Chapter Text

Lucifer
Imperial Morningstar Estate

Lucifer was interrupted by a soft pop.

King of Hell, Prince of Pride, Lord of Mortal Sinners, God’s Blazing Morningstar, The Great Thief to All Who Oppose Him, Leader of The Fallen, and most devilishly handsome (albeit short) dictator sat on his favorite terrace at his family estate. Quite the shame to be interrupted during the best part of his book. It was his favorite comedy: the Holy Bible. Lucifer closed and laid it on the delicate, shaded table next to him. With the snap of his fingers an extra drink and chair appeared for his guest.

Gesturing to the seat, he said, “This must be quite the matter for you to come here of your own volition, Stolas.”

Goetic demon, Prince Stolas had just broken several serious formalities by instantly appearing in Lucifer’s personal home, unannounced and unplanned. The eccentric owl demon would normally brighten and use words of jest with Lucifer.

Today made no room for that.

The King noticed how worried the lesser demon seemed. Both men had large investments in the well being of the seven rings. They had darling daughters to protect and courts to rule over.

“I come with news from the mortal plane, Sire. The Pagans are lurking about again."

That was unfortunate. Pagans were yet another faction of demons.

In The Beginning, Asherah, the Eldritch, The Void One, Chaos in its entirety, formed children much like God had. Only these children were known as the original demons.

Hell's Ars Goetia was composed entirely of his siblings, The Fallen, or Goetic demons, the demons who'd defected to his cause long ago during his insurrection and creation of Hell in the Eldritch plane.

The Pagans were a devious, unorganized, chaotic, rude, ugly, and stupid mess of beings. Lucifer held them in little regard and had no fondness for them. Still, they had their own powers, governing systems, and had once run rampant across large swaths of the mortal plane. Despite being infinitely more difficult to get back to Earth, since his righteous and stubborn sister had forcibly removed them millenia ago, it wasn't impossible.

But why were they at it again?

Then again, Michael was dead, so why not tempt the wrath of Heaven and Hell in one go?

Those fools.

Stolas paused which truly caused Lucifer to focus in. There must be more. Patiently he waited for the rest of the intel.

“They aren’t targeting us this time, not solely at least. My sources have found them gathering and recruiting in the mortal plane. I understand this is nothing new, but it comes with new fervor and different, erh, tactics.” Stolas took an audibly deep breath to steady himself. He was here to do his king and friend the respect of delivering the news in person.

“Asherian demons were found attacking Gabriel in the mortal plane. He made it out, though we don’t know where he is currently. My men also told me someone was with him.” Stolas presented several pictures for Lucifer’s inspection.

“Gabriel called her Michael.”

That was the bombshell Stolas was worried about presenting. Lucifer gingerly grabbed the photos. There she was. Most of the photos showed her in daily life. Driving, shopping, studying. Another two showed her with their younger brother.

Why was he unable to feel her? So long ago his twin sister betrayed him in the Holy War. Then she saved his entire realm by sacrificing herself to close the gate between Heaven and Hell. She gave him emotional whiplash with every insane decision she made.

Lucifer looked calm and composed, but something in his eyes slowly changed. Red struggled to seep into the sclera. Demonic energy rattled in the air like a filling volcano. Stolas sat patiently, not making a single move.

Internally, he was beside himself. The gate connecting Hell and Heaven stayed tied shut by angelic and demonic power alike for centuries. A seemingly permanent seal to stop the carnage of his subjects. He never saw her after that, but knew she was alive. At least, until she died again, for good.

The first true Extermination Day came soon after the tether to his twin vanished. Billions of years, all her love, and any chance he had to finally explain just how sorry he was, gone.

No one had thought angels could die until that day. But even with his immense power, he couldn’t know everything about the universe or what happened when ancient beings and old powers took new, uncharted turns. Despite being prideful and stubborn, Lucifer dearly loved Michael. They would always love each other. It was etched into their existence. Into their souls. Her life as a half-baked human, endlessly cruel deaths, and rebirths, was something he’d kept close tabs on until their bond evaporated one day in the 1920s.

He regretted not doing something that day. He would always regret letting her die like that. Still, he understood why she had all too well.

Lucifer cleared his throat and asked, “And Alastor?”

All those decades ago, a mortal sinner was cast into Hell. A rare sinner who exhibited uncanny Eldritch magic, on par with the Goetia and lesser angels. Lucifer knew exactly who Alastor was long before death.

“Still oblivious,” Stolas reported.

While Alastor was not directly assigned to Stolas’s intel team, he did keep detailed records on the Radio Demon. The day Alastor arrived was marked by a cataclysmic, one man rampage beyond anything Hell witnessed before. Lucifer let it happen. Biding his time.

Hell: 1933

Lucifer watched at a distance as his sister’s freshly deceased lover came to consciousness.

Years had passed since Michael was wrung out from existence. Intel gathered dictated that after her erasure, he’d forgotten all about her, the memories stolen from the cannibalistic serial killer.

Will you remember her upon death’s door, Alastor Laveau?

It took no time for the deer demon to understand his situation. His first slaughter was ugly and unrefined. Once the shadows quelled, Alastor moved on. Despite the whole shtick of just dying and waking up in Hell, the grey man seemed ok. From that point Lucifer let time take control. He kept his non-existent nose out of Alastor’s business until the freshly monikered Radio Demon became a pillar within the city’s overlords.

Three months later Lucifer summoned all Overlords for a usual check-in. In an opulent room, decorated with an apple motif and jewel tones to mimic a bastardized version of the Garden of Eden, was situated a boardroom table, a throne on the end. Clockwise around the table sat Alastor, Rosie, Zestial, and several others.

Alastor sat with the maiming mistress of Cannibal Colony, who was supporting his new ambitions as an overlord in Pentagram City and shared his particular tastes.

He liked Rosie well and good, but Lucifer liked to make sure the Radio Demon wasn’t unwittingly betraying Michael. Just because he was meant to watch out for the sinner didn’t mean he would humor any disgrace to her memory.

“Today we are gathered to conduct usual business concerning the affairs of this circle and city. You may be seated.” The meeting carried on as scheduled and was frightfully dull. Sometimes fighting broke out at these sessions which amused Lucifer to no end. The meeting wrapped up and Lucifer commanded Alastor to meet with him in the adjacent office.

Alone at last, Luci offered, “Have a drink! Finest whisky in Hell!”

Alastor graciously accepted, while praising, “This is a great honor, your majesty! Living or dead, I’ve not met with royalty.”

He wanted to scoff as he barely held back the emotions starting to well in his chest.

“You’re a great demon, lad! Three short months and you’ve ripped and mangled your way through some of our longest standing overlords! And call me Luci, that’s an order. I wanted to have a chat with you. Sit.” Lucifer gestured to two armchairs in front of a roaring green fireplace. Soft screams could be heard from it, eyes blinking within the mantle. The Radio Demon maintained his suspiciousness, but seemed to understand how special a private audience was with Lucifer.

“Luci, you have fine tastes in decor! Quite lively.” Alastor’s confidence did not waver. He took the seat, crossing his legs and folding his hands in his lap.

“Radio Demon, is what they’re calling you. What a moniker! I dare say I’m impressed. Surely Michael is proud as well.”

The sinner’s head tipped to the side with that plastered-on, polite expression and Lucifer nearly crushed his glass.

“Forgive my ignorance Luci, but who is Michael?” The hidden magic sigils did not trip. Magic would have flared if the man was lying. This demon truly did not know his sister had ever existed. Deep cracks of sadness crept over his heart. Some part of him wanted to go over and wring that strawberry bastard’s neck until he remembered something. Sure, fighting between siblings was normal but who was this minuscule plebeian to forget his mighty sister?

Her magic must have strictly taken hold in the mortal plane as the entire account of Alastor and Michael still existed in his Tome of Sins. The book which infinitely recorded every doing and account and memory of every mortal soul.

“You know, I must be thinking of something else! Oh boy, the eons really do play tricks on the old steel trap!” Their chat continued on for a while, to Luci’s surprise.

There was a lot to enjoy about Alastor’s personality. sad*stic tendencies, sharp wit, and more so, the respect and intelligence that came with being inferior to another. They regaled old stories, and the red clad demon recounted some of his grisly murders and cannibalistic adventures.

“Well youngling, I think it’s time for me to return to my beauties and greatest treasures.” His arm swept dramatically to the large family portrait of himself, Lilith, and Charlie.

“You must adore them so Luci.” The comment was respectful, but held no genuine feeling.

Lucifer’s throat tightened, but he kept a lid on his roiling, misplaced grief.

“Ever been in love? Any children up top to continue on dear ol’ dad’s recipes?” Lucifer leaned over with an obnoxious sh*t eating grin. He knew the answer already, and it wasn’t Alastor’s fault, but even so, the king wanted to watch him squirm.

Alastor bit down a sneer, the only thing betraying him was a meager flinch. “Unfortunately I never found someone suited to my lifestyle.”

“Maybe you just missed them?”

“No.” Alastor offered sternly before adding more, if only to not offend the monarch. “I don’t think such a tryst would have panned out in my favor. I have no remorse for the matter.”

f*cking red bastard. How dare he? How dare this miniscule plebeian dance all over Michael’s grave? There was that sadness again. And like before he felt rage. No remorse? There was nothing he could do but internally seethe. Still, he pushed.

“I wager there is a soul for you. If only one in existence.”

Alastor didn’t understand why this seemed so important or interesting. Was everyone in this inferno obsessed with sex so much that it over shadowed everything else?

“Luci, when I come upon this singular soul, I will request you officiate our nuptials. Though, I do hope you’ll grant me a traditional wedding. I don’t want my mother rolling in her grave.”

Lucifer cackled to the point that Alastor turned his head with an audible click. That laugh sounded like a secret he wasn’t privy to.

“You have yourself a deal. I look forward to great things from you.” Lucifer’s outstretched hand glowed with black and purple flames. Alastor shook it since this was an absolute non-issue.

The Radio Demon left. Moments later Lucifer punched out the entire south facing wall. Tonight he would ravage and praise the goddess he called wife to soothe the pain clinging in his heart.

The memories flashed in his mind’s eye and the anger burning in his gut faded. Lucifer’s next words were the most convoluted and confusing Stolas ever heard. And that was saying something.

“I think we’ll be planning a wedding soon. At least after we put the Pagans on pikes. Find Gabriel and Michael immediately and do not let them out of sight. I take it she is unaware?”

More photos materialized on the table. Several had different dates and countries but it seemed that Michael had been living an unassuming, mortal life over and over again. Instead of reincarnating with her memories and powers intact, she was reincarnating as a blank copy.

How dense and careless could the higher powers be? Lucifer would have never allowed this.

Lucifer summoned his Tome and laid a hand on the cover. Nothing. He could see all of her lives up until the 1920s but after that, nothing. What kept her from being written now? He suspected larger forces at play and this made him uncomfortable. The Eldritch and God were no strangers to playing the long game. This reeked of a game.

Another snap of his fingers summoned a small goat demon, Lucifer’s secretary for centuries, Bartholomew. “Bring me the Radio Demon, have him wait in the parlor until I dismiss Stolas.”

Bartholomew bowed and poofed off to his tasking.

“She’s truly mortal now …” Luci whispered as his thumb stroked one of the pictures. This photo was the most recent, one of her in a peacoat, holding a latte, Gabriel in tow. Her face looked unburdened, bright, and healthy. It made him wonder if there was a point to anything except humans existing. To think she was still there.

Lucifer imagined how many laws his brother broke to be their sister’s part-time keeper. Gabriel lying was a small and delicious morsel in this f*ck-all situation. Gears started turning in his head. There was a reason he was the greatest of angels and now the greatest of demons.

“Actually, I may know the exact person to contact,” he started dialing a number realizing who would be able to find someone no matter what. It was one of their angelic designations after all. Almost immediately the phone was answered by a young sounding male.

“Moshi, moshi Luci-nii-sama,” said Vassago, using the Japanese honorific to be cheeky. “000-666-0000. What a number to see. And to what do I owe the displeasure?”

“Don’t get cheeky with me, Vassago. You’ll do well to remember who allows you to live in the mortal plane.” Vassago was something of a technical whiz kid and genius in Hell. As a boon for privately handling all of Lucifer’s specific needs, to absolute privacy, he allowed Vassago to live as he pleased. They weren’t on the best of terms. Vassago would always be somewhat bitter where their fall from Heaven was concerned.

“I’ve heard an interesting rumor concerning our quaint family. Are they there?”

Vassago audibly gulped but conceded the information. Lucifer already knew and just wanted to play mind games. The younger sibling would not give him that satisfaction. “Yes, both of them are staying here. I must assume you heard about the satyr?”

“Of course. Another little birdie told me that Daddy dearest was recalling all the good little children home.”

Right again.

Gabriel had expressly ignored the order in favor of their investigation and protecting Michael. Vassago’s little section of the mortal plane was impenetrable, otherwise the Pagans would be at his door for their heads. It also seemed that their budding enemies couldn’t detect fallen angels or Michael. Would that keep them safe from slaughter though? Absolutely not.

“Now, in the interest of keeping our little family,” And their blood, “safe, I command you to bring them to me. You personally may or may not join them, though I’d assume you won’t be interested.”

“Sorry Luci, not interested in a family reunion. I don’t think Gabe will be either.” Lucifer could have wretched on the spot. Gabriel always was a thorn in his side. So stern. So calm. So hypocritical.

“Then put him on.”

Lucifer heard clattering and pulled the phone away briefly. Stolas sat like a statue knowing how rare it was to be able to hear these interactions between original holy beings. Plus one wrong move might remind his king of his presence and get him blasted for just being within earshot.

In the background faint screams were heard wailing Gabriel’s name. Some thudding. Fast paced explanations and then a very firm, ’sh*t’.

“Lucifer.” Gabriel’s voice rang, authoritative and clear.

“How long has it been Gabriel?” Stolas choked in the background.

“I thought you released Vassago.”

“Mildly. I hear that you have my twin and you are being hunted by Pagans. What’s keeping you from going upstairs Gabriel?” On the other end Gabriel rolled his eyes. Of course this snake bastard knew good and well why he hadn’t returned to Heaven: Michael. There was no guarantee that her blood wouldn’t be enough for the Pagans to thoroughly topple the natural order. Another twist was that he could not take Michael to Heaven. “I'll make you a deal, Gabe”

Here we go again. Gabriel was awfully tired of his older siblings cutting deals like it was an episode of Shark Tank. “Humor me. Why would I do that?”

“Do you really think you can fend off Zeus, Poseidon, Hades, or any of the rest of that vermin tag team? Especially when they aren’t trying to decimate their own ranks? They may hate each other but they will come together, little brother. Bring yourself and Michael to Hell for protection. I’ll swear my realms to the safety of anyone who seeks refuge in the coming days.”

“Your entire realm is over populated. You can’t even fend off Raphael’s exterminations.”

“Alas, it is quite the tragedy! Though … we’ve started a new project here in order to rehabilitate sinners. My perfect apple dumpling is an angelic thing, much to my dismay. I will allow you to evaluate her project and even oversee it. Surely you won’t condemn repenting sinners Gabriel? You could save so many souls. You were supposed to be a pacifist.”

It did sound like a better alternative to the exterminations. He’d heard rumors of Princess Charlotte Morningstar of Hell. The girl was, allegedly, nothing like Lucifer. Regardless, Gabriel was not the one to make such a deal and he wouldn’t be manipulated and guilted into Lucifer’s daughter’s obnoxious charity hour. Still, silver words from the serpent himself?

Bite my tasty apple part 2.

“So you would leave me to over see your own daughter? Are you mad? Of course you’re mad, you’ve always been. No Lucifer. We’re perfectly fine without your meddling.”

Lucifer tutted and feigned heartbreak, “Brother! For shame! Such cruel jests. Of course I would leave you with your niece. I think she would adore you.”

“Gabriel, who’s on the phone?” Seriously?

Gabe missed the Michael who was strategic, calm, clever, and ever aware. Bug eyed and looking like he ate a lemon he waved her away.

Lucifer’s blood ran frigid and his heart seized. How long had it been since he heard her voice? “Put her on the phone.”

As if she heard that, Mia came up to the phone, “Hello, Earth to Gabriel?” With a swipe of his hand he silenced her and pushed her out of the kitchen. Michael started mouthing off, but she looked more like a tv character on mute.

“Absolutely not. She doesn’t even know who you are.”

“So now what? Cower in Vassago’s cabin? Michael is considered mortal now. What is Jophiel going to think? They don’t even know, do they? Look at you, crafting lies behind Daddy’s back. Lying to your twin. I’ve never been so proud. What a fine and devious man you’ve become. Well, I’ve taken your time long enough. I hope the Pagans don’t drink the three of you dry.”

Here came the pause. Lucifer knew Gabriel. Before his younger brother could say a word, his lips parted into an evil smirk.

“We’ll come … Michael and I. But the terms and conditions of this armistice will be discussed in the mortal plane, under a protection sigil of blood. Your daughter must be in attendance and sigil’s anchor.” Of course Gabriel would think to include something ridiculous like that. “Absolutely not. Charlotte will not leave the dominion of Hell under these circ*mstances.”

“Fine. We’ll make the agreement in Hell, but only with her as the anchor.” Gabriel had every intention of using Lucifer’s daughter to secure their safety.

“Gabriel, I’m so glad we’re finally coming together again. Next month I’ll send an envoy to collect you both. In the mean time I’ll have Vassago procure the appropriate necessities. See you soon.” Lucifer hung up. He’d forgotten about Stolas.

“Go and start making preparations. I’ll send you details later. Now, run along.” Almost as a relief Stolas feathered out of Lucifer’s sight immediately. Luci cracked his knuckles and made way for where Alastor was being forced to wait.

Round two.

Gilded double doors swung up with a magical flourish as Lucifer stepped into the room, twirling his cane. Alastor was standing, perusing a section of books, glass of amber liquor in his clawed hand.

“My boy! You are frightening as ever. Thank you for coming on such short notice!” Not that it was an invitation or optional anyway. Alastor offered Lucifer a respectful bow and a large smile. Staticky lo-fi crackled to life, “What a gracious compliment from a gracious host! I would never waste such an opportunity to bask in the presence of our king.”

“Alastor, if I weren’t married your flattery would be after my cold heart. I have a proposition for you,” he said cutting to the chase. Lucifer was already tired from speaking with Gabriel. Lucifer’s fondness for Alastor did not waver despite his limited patience. It was like looking into an inferior, red mirror. Flattering, but non-threatening.

Alastor sipped at the liquor, eyebrow raised in place of a question.

“Tomorrow my darling Charlotte will be announcing her pet project for sinners seeking redemption. Yes, yes, I know what you’re thinking but I couldn’t dare see my baby’s dreams crushed.” A twinge of sweetness and earnest blossomed in Lucifer’s voice. Charlie really was the one thing in his entire existence that he could put aside literally anything for.

Sure, he was manic, demonic, hedonistic, mischievous, cruel, and manipulative but no one could accuse him of being an unloving, neglectful parent.

“I unfortunately cannot associate myself directly with the … what was it … the Happy Hotel. Charlotte takes much after her extended family. The ask is that you associate yourself with the project, under your own terms of course, protect and act as a financial benefactor. Rumors are circulating of your boredom and I am willing to grant you a boon. In the mean time you will be twice fold compensated for what you put in and I may be willing to negotiate future requests suiting your whims. What say you Radio Demon?”

Alastor turned over the offer in his mind. His claws drummed softly on his glass. Rejecting Lucifer’s offer would be absolute madness. Lucifer didn’t make offers that were to be refused. Soul suicide.

“And what is the expected duration of this patronage?”

“One day after the next extermination.”

“And this boon?” Lucifer loved when other’s crawled into his hands.

“I will make you the reigning lord of Pride.”

The delicate whisky glass shattered on the fine marble floor as Alastor turned his slit eyes on Lucifer, a predator eyeing the competition.

“You’ve proven in your Overlord-ship that your ability to cultivate business and craft others to your whim is superb. There are other ventures I need to support in the future and have been considering restructuring the hierarchy. Things have become so unruly lately. Needs spiced up, wouldn’t you agree?”

Two demons, prideful and powerful grinned at each other but Alastor wondered what the truth deep below the surface was. There was no chance he could discover all of Lucifer’s cards. There was also no way he stood a chance against Lucifer in a literal power struggle. As the decades rolled by, Alastor made a fast ally, almost mentor, in the king.

Nearly an hour was spent negotiating small specifics, logistics, and things Alastor was and was not permitted to do. The obvious included not actively sabotaging the project, keeping the establishment safe, and not bringing physical, emotional, or mental harm to Charlie. Finally Lucifer and Alastor, inky purple and venomous green, shook hands to form the agreement.

Chapter 3: Twins

Chapter Text

Mia
Vassago’s Cabin
Next Cleanse: 332

The next months came and went in a blur. Living in the house with Vassago and Gabriel felt normal enough. How sad was it that she felt closer to them than the three brothers she was raised with?

Two days after arriving she learned what appalling cooks the men were. Vassago’s body was one quarter energy drinks, some portion of sushi, and the rest comprised of either protein bars or premixed vitamin shakes. Gabriel was also hopeless. Canned soup in the microwave being the thing he ate daily.

It really felt like a small family, but there was always tension with Gabriel. She was Mia. She was not his Michael. Not the powerful, commanding sister he wanted her to be. At one point during her stay, she stumbled into a room of antiques and artifacts Vassago kept. There she had found a gorgeous, elegant weapon. A glaive.

The staff looked like it was made of molten rose-gold and platinum. The blade itself looked like fine pale gold, outlined and shimmering in colors she couldn’t begin to describe. Sadness twinged at her heart at the memory. Gabriel looked so hopeful when he saw her staring at it, awestruck. He asked if she could feel it, if anything inside her stirred.

Unfortunately, she felt nothing.

Regardless of his disappointment, he gave the weapon to her, magicking it into a ring so she could actually summon it. It was crafted from a piece of her soul, apparently. All angels, fallen or otherwise, had a weapon made of their being. Gabriel showed her his two curved blades. Vassago had a bow. From that point on, his patience with her deteriorated even more.

She didn’t blame him, though.

Vassago hinted at just how long and how hard Gabriel searched for her, only just finding her for the first time in eighty some years. Neither would tell her about her past lives, so she stopped asking. It didn’t matter. The stories would be just that, fairytales about a much stronger woman who looked and sounded like her, but wasn’t really her.

In an attempt to make Gabriel happy, she started practicing every day for hours with the glaive. No matter what, she always felt clumsy and uncoordinated. Every time she cut something or hurt herself while training, he just turned cold. Mia eventually found a spot to practice alone amongst the pines and the lake.

It was early as she set out for her normal practice spot. Dawn barely creeping in, no sun to be had, fog rolling off the lake and through the trees. The boys normally slept later than she did. They didn’t give her too much fuss about going out alone in the morning since Vassago’s domain was safe, even from wolves. Being back to make sure breakfast was ready was the only real complaint.

Mia stabbed the weapon into the ground and took the tablet out of her bag. Some very professional internet research turned up a fighting style called Guan Dao, using a weapon called a Kwan Tao. She was far from a martial arts expert. Actually, she was far from a novice, but it was something, and she wanted to make Gabriel happy.

She watched the video a couple times over while warming up. Before following the instructions, she stepped through some basic positions. Mia felt stupid every time she tried to practice. Yes, she was trying but for f*ck’s sake she was no warrior.

Heavy cracking and the sound of unfamiliar voices broke her thoughts. She whipped around and the sight shocked her. Mia stumbled back over her own glaive, speechless, landing on her backside.

Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. Standing maybe ten feet away, looking right at her, was an owl. Or a man. An owl man. A demon owl man? Flanking him were three red creatures and what she could only describe as a werewolf.

“Oh my, I think we’ve frightened the poor thing.”

Mia heard the click of a pistol hammer. It was enough to snap her into reality. She scrambled to her feet, picked up her glaive, and pointed it in their direction. This action was worth an honorable mention, but she didn’t stand a chance against five demons or half of a demon, even. She bit her tongue to keep her teeth from chattering.

“Should we kill her?” The tallest red demon asked the towering owl. His horns were long, striped black and white. The four shorter demons were dressed relatively modern-esque while the owl wore a waistcoat and a top hat with a crown.

“Are you Pagans?” she demanded shakily.

Stolas smiled and held up a hand for the four to stay put. His footsteps were silent and slow, holding up his hands.

“Dear, we are not Pagans. We have far more manners. My name is Stolas, Prince of the Ars Goetia. I’m a friend and colleague of your brother, King Lucifer.” Much to her surprise, he didn’t come any closer than four or five feet and even took the care to kneel on the ground to meet her at eye level.

King Lucifer … her alleged twin brother. There was something too real about it now, as she stared at this demonic envoy.

Gabriel had explained they would go to Hell soon for their own protection, but he seemed reluctant to tell her anything more, let alone how they would get there or when they were going. She guessed soon meant today.

She stayed silent, watching him. Here she was cowering like a child and the four in the back were distractedly poking at the forest foliage. Mia took a long, deep breath and held the glaive at her side. It didn’t matter if they were here to kill her. She’d be nothing but candy. Zero struggle for them.

“I presume you’re Michael?” He said gently.

“I am. I’m sorry for the, uh, cold welcome. I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

“Yes, Luci isn’t the most communicative about logistics, I’m afraid. Would you mind escorting us to lords Vassago and Gabriel, my lady?” She couldn’t help but grin a bit.

“Of course. Though, um,” she hesitated, looking back at the four who were absolutely dicking around, picking on the one they called Moxxie.

“Ah yes! Of course! Excuse my rudeness. These are my bodyguards and escorts. Oh Blitzy! Be a dear and come over here. I have someone for you to meet!” There were annoyed garbles as the small team walked over. The other two red ones were holding hands, and the werewolf checked her phone like an annoyed teenager.

“Sup, sugar?” Said the one Stolas called Blitzy.

“Don’t be rude, Blitzy. I’m quite sure you wouldn’t if you knew who this was.”

“Enlighten me, Bird Dick. Who’s the shivering flesh sack?”

Mia’s tongue moved faster than her good sense. “Listen here, you little blood soaked gremlin. I may not be much to look at, but at least I don’t have to be called around like a little bitch waiting to be fed.” She aimed the glaive right in his face, if only to make a point. The wolf growled and the smaller ones trained guns on her. Again, she would lose this battle, but not without making a complete fool of herself first.

“Now, now Blitzy, don’t be rude. This is our king’s sister, the Archangel Michael. Please don’t get into a skiff with an angelic blade. Your delectable body would be too difficult to replace in a timely fashion, yes?”

“This tart's an angel?” Blitzy puffed, obviously not buying it.

“Of course. We’re here to meet with Lord Vassago and the Archangel Gabriel as well.” The smaller imps dropped their weapons and the wolf just rolled her eyes and popped in a pair of ear buds. Blitzo looked around the glaive at her face.

“Well, why didn’t you say so! If I’d known we were canoodling with royalty today, I would have shined my horns! Sorry about that, Miss Angel,” he said, attitude doing a full one-eighty. He was in her personal space in no time, shaking one of her hands exuberantly.

“The name’s Blitzo. The O is silent. These here are my employees! Millie, Moxxie, and my darling baby, Loonie! We’re I.M.P. The Immediate Murder Professionals. If ya make it to Hell and need someone whacked off up here in the mortal realm, we’re the only team to consider. We take cash. We don’t do refunds. Kids get killed free.”

“Uh.” That was the only noise she could make before the owl lifted him off her.

“My apologies, my dear. They’re a very business oriented team. They are serving as my personal guard and detail. I think it may be best for us to move along. Would you mind?”

Mia silently stuffed her tablet into her bag and made way for the house. The two smaller imps, Millie and Moxxie, came up to her. Moxxie gave her a soft, apologetic look. “Sorry about that. He’s hard for us to keep a handle on sometimes. I’m Moxxie. This is my wife, Millie.”

“Oh my word, are you really an angel?” Millie said with wonder in her voice. “You’re awfully pretty like the ones in picture books! Though I ain’t seen a real one before except when they show recaps of the exterminations.”

“The whats?”

Millie seemed unfazed by Mia’s confusion. “Oh, you know! Maybe they call it somethin’ different where you’re from! You know, all your kin folk get together once a year and start slaughtering around Hell for a day! We don’t really mind too much. It doesn’t much affect us Hellborns.”

“Of course.” Thankfully, the house was in view, and Mia bolted for the front door.

“Gabriel! Vassago! f*ck guys, please!” She was screaming as loud as her lungs would let her and the two appeared instantly, weapons drawn.

“What is it?! Are you hurt?” Gabriel started looking her over, panicked as Vassago rushed to the door.

“False alarm, Gabe,” said the black-haired brother, his weapon fading away. Gabriel first guided Mia to the couch. He joined Vassago at the door to see the reason their sister was in such a tizzy.

“Vassago! How long has it been?” Stolas threw his arms open wide, and the two hugged like old friends. “Stolas! I wish you would have sent word! It seems you’ve given my sister quite the scare. Are these your guards?”

“Ah yes. A moment, please. Oh Blitzy! Be a dear and watch the house’s perimeter! They are such a delightful group.”

Vassago escorted the owl demon inside and shut the door. “I didn’t know imps were permitted in the mortal plane, Stolas.” His voice carried a hint of jest and suspicion.

“You know how things are, Vassago. What a lovely home you have here! Oh, before I forget!” Stolas removed a small envelope from his coat. Vassago opened it up to find several pictures of Stolas’s daughter Octavia at various ages.

“How she’s grown! She’s as lovely as Stella. Teenagers can be such fun. Stolas, allow me to introduce my older brother, Gabriel. Gabriel, this is Stolas Goetia.”

The archangel sneered and maintained a healthy distance. “I suppose you’re the team Lucifer sent?”

Unphased, Stolas offered him a slight bow. “Indeed! I am merely Luci’s humble servant. I’ve come to collect you and the Lady Michael.”

Gabriel huffed. The good news was, all the prep work for their departure was done. The bad news was he hadn’t had breakfast and wasn’t interested in leaving immediately, if only to annoy his older brother. “Join us for breakfast, Stolas. Michael is a wonderful cook, and I’m sure your team would love a free meal.”

“What a gracious offer. We would be delighted! I do hope her cooking is as good as her weapon skills,” he commented, glancing at Mia with a slight wave. She knew he meant it as a lighthearted joke, but that stung and left her feeling embarrassed. Some angel she was.

“Let me get freshened up and I’ll be back down to make breakfast. Anything specific for your team, Stolas?”

“Oh, please don’t trouble yourself on our account. My team is quite fond of human food and would greatly appreciate anything you feed them. Your consideration is most kind, Lady Michael.”

“Call me Mia. I’ll be back in sec.” She made her way down the hall and out of sight.

Stolas looked down at the glaive, then to Gabriel. “Lucifer told me she wasn’t quite all there, but I hadn’t suspected it to be so severe. She truly is a blank slate.” Gabriel frowned at the demon.

“She’s fine.”

An obvious lie, but this was no matter of the owl demon's. Stolas took the hint and nodded, quietly accepting a cup of tea from Vassago.

The two friends chatted and laughed. Stolas was catching Vassago up about Octavia and the world away. Some of the more petty dealings he missed hearing and never heard about from Lucifer. Vassago loved Stolas’s ability to gossip and tell stories. They were long-time friends, especially since the demon’s sense of loyalty was rare in Hell.

Mia spent about an hour in the kitchen before setting out fresh coffee, cream, fruit, bacon, and pancakes in the dining room.

“Come and eat!” she called.

“What a wonderful meal! Thank you so much Mia!” This time she smiled at him, in a much better mood. Cooking helped with the nerves and after over hearing the stories shared between the owl and Vassago, she felt a little guilty for being so hostile.

“Sorry for earlier,” she said with a sheepish grin.

“Not at all, my girl. If it had been my daughter alone with five strangers, I would have expected her to eat their gullets.” She didn’t find that funny, but she at least appreciated the sentiment … somewhat. Mia excused herself to take another spread of food to the four outside. Moxxie and Millie were strumming and humming a tune while Loona and Blitzo were arguing about something.

“Hey, I got breakfast.” That seemed to grab their attention, and they swarmed her.

“We never get free meals on a job! Thank ya, sugar!” said Millie, who started helping Mia sit out the plates and glasses.

“You’re guests here. Eat. I made some extra bacon since you guys are out here working.” Though she wasn’t sure what work really needed to be done.

“Ya know, ya don’t look like an angel,” said Blitzo while trying to feed Loona like a baby.

How was she supposed to take that? Shrugging, she sat down on the porch step, coffee in hand. “Guess not.”

Blitzo returned to babying the wolf girl, who sent him into a tree trunk with one strong kick. Millie and Moxxie were rather enjoyable company, carrying a civilized conversation with her about the Pride Circle and basics of Hell.

“I come from a big family down in Wrath. There’s where they have LooLoo Land! I just love LooLoo Land. When you’re in Hell, since you’re royalty and all, we should all go together!” Millie’s eyes sparkled while clapping her hands together. Moxxie smiled and gazed lovingly at his wife’s joy.

“You guys are really too cute together, you know that?” Both imps thanked her, giggling.

Stupidly, Mia asked, “So seven rings, huh? And both of you were born in Hell?”

“We all were. Just in case you haven’t noticed, but Loona is Blitzo’s adopted daughter. A Hell Hound.”

“And what are you guys called?”

“Imps,” Moxxie answered. “You’d think for royalty and an angel you’d know a bit more about Hell.” His tone was rightfully suspicious, and Mia scratched the back of her head with a nervous laugh.

“My life is pretty complicated, so I’ve not had much to do with Hell.” It wasn’t a lie at least and kind of made sense.

“Do you participate in the exterminations?” Moxxie asked shyly. That she was sure was a no, but really, how could she be sure she wasn’t magically forgetting about slaughtering tons of souls into oblivion every year.

“No. And I don’t personally agree with it if that helps.” Mia only said it to improve her budding relationship with the I.M.P. team. Though an all out slaughter against defenseless beings, even in Hell, seemed like an unfair fight. From that point, they started weaving tales of their adventures on Earth and in Hell. What shocked her the most was the story of an obnoxious, illicit affair between Blitzo and Stolas.

Over the next thirty minutes, Mia found herself cracking jokes and laughing with the pair. They gave her their Hellphone numbers. Politely she took them and put them in her actual phone, if only not to be rude. How was she supposed to call them from an Earth cellphone?

Vassago stepped out with Stolas and Gabriel. “Alright Michael, it’s time to go.”

She knew she was moving to Hell for her own protection, but the sudden announcement caught her off guard. “I haven’t even packed.”

Stolas chuckled and grinned, “No need, Darling.”

He snapped his fingers, and suddenly a pile of luggage appeared on the porch. Vassago handed the backpack to her. “You’ve got a phone and laptop in there that’s suited for Hell. All the instructions you need for both are in there.”

Mia gulped and stuffed her human phone in the bag. Somehow, she was also wearing socks and shoes. “And don’t worry, you can always get in contact with me. It won’t be any different from being on Earth,” Vassago said with a smile and a bear hug.

“Plus, I can visit you in Hell without issue.” Knowing she wasn’t cutting herself off from Vassago or Earth made her feel slightly better.

“Now, if you don’t mind,” said Stolas, holding out a clawed hand to her, “To reach the Morningstar Estate, we’ll need to be linked. Grab tight.” The luggage was in the middle of their circle. Her hand shook nervously and Gabriel gripped it tighter with a small smile. He nodded reassuringly, and she smiled back. Suddenly, he looked like the kind human Milton she’d met and not the overbearing archangel.

Nothing dramatic happened during their teleportation. Stolas’s eyes glowed and a heated wind swept up from below their feet, but in one blink she found herself in a grand ballroom. The inside must have been four stories tall. A magnificent black and gold stair case. Rich jewel tones, fantastical, gothic décor. Large windows sporting stained glass scenes.

Her jaw dropped, trying to look at it all. Even pictures of ancient marvels and architecture couldn’t rival the bizarre, beautiful, and wicked hall. Despite being distracted by the room and magic, she remembered why she was there.

Her stomach wasn’t supposed to be in her ankles, but it felt that way. Mia was grateful that Gabriel hadn’t let go of her hand yet. She looked at him, speechless.

“Don’t worry. I’m here to protect you.” His voice was warm and soft.

CLACK CLACK

The sound echoed through the massive chamber, drawing the eyes of everyone involved upward to a balcony. There stood a slight man, no nose, and very obviously a demon. He wore a getup that looked more like a costume than regalia to her. But the apple and snake motif gave it away. And if those weren’t enough dead giveaways, the woman to his right was. Mia was certain she’d never seen a more gorgeous or tall woman. Her blonde hair swept the floor, topped with massive horns and a black crown.

Then to the man’s left was a young woman, obviously their child, in a tuxedo with the same big eyes are her parents and soft blonde hair. Her gaze shifted back to the man who was unabashedly staring a hole through her. She couldn’t pin down the emotion in his eyes, but he looked like a predator ready to spring at her.

Mia cracked a small, uncertain smile at him and waved a little with her free hand. He winked at her in response. In a wisp of smoke, the entire royal family re-materialized in front of the group.

“Stolas, please escort the rest of our guest to receive their payments. I would like this to be just family for now.” With that, Stolas and the I.M.P team were gone.

“Lucifer,” greeted Gabriel curtly, still holding Mia’s hand. Vassago hadn’t come, so only the five stood there. She didn’t know what to say or do.

“Little brother, always so formal. Loosen up.” Lucifer’s tone was mocking. “Now allow me to introduce my wife, Queen of the Seven Rings, Mother of Demons, and the wonder I call Goddess, Lilith.” The abnormally tall woman dipped her head at them with a gracious, welcoming smile.

“I’ve heard so much about the both of you. I’m delighted to finally meet some of my in-laws.” Her tone was mirthful, but genuine.

“Charlie,” the woman beckoned to the girl, fiddling nervously with the hem of her jacket, “please greet your Aunt Michael and Uncle Gabriel. They’ll be staying with you, so make sure to be a gracious host.” Suddenly the girl’s demeanor changed, cranking up to max.

“Dad told me everything!” She squealed, refraining from touching them yet. “My name is Charlie. Thank you, thank you, thank you for giving our hotel a chance! I know for a fact we can make this work to save souls and stop the exterminations!”

What was going on? Mia had only learned of the exterminations less than an hour ago and here was some demon niece that she’d never heard of thinking that they were here to … to do what exactly? Of course, Gabriel had left this out. That miffed her off, but that was no reason to crush this girl’s dreams!

Mia smiled brightly and yanked her hand away from Gabriel. Almost immediately, she hugged Charlie, if only to piss off her overbearing brother. “Of course! The moment we heard about it, we knew we had to help! You’re such a brave person, wanting to help your people like that! I’m sure we can make it happen!”

Was she bullsh*tting? Absolutely, but that’s what happens when people left her out of the loop.

Charlie, none the wiser, squealed again and squeezed back, twirling Mia around like a doll. “I promise I won’t let you down, Auntie! I can’t believe you gave up your powers be here! I mean, of course it is only for a year, but still! I’m touched.”

Mia and Charlie officially had been told nothing of importance by Lucifer or Gabriel. Charlie didn’t know that Mia was entirely mortal or about the Pagans, and Mia hadn’t been told that they were staying at the girl’s charity project or that they would help out. This had the makings of a bad day waiting to happen.

Lilith gently pulled her daughter away and said, “Dear, you’ll have plenty of time to get to know them. Are you ready for what we practiced?”

The Princess nodded and glided a claw effortlessly across her palm. In turn, Lucifer and Gabriel did the same. Charlie grew horns and her eyes turned red and wild. Lucifer produced a floating contract and pen. He dipped the pen into Charlie’s palm, drawing a large pentagram on the bottom of the contract. He then dipped the pen into his blood, signing his name and formal title. Gabriel did the same. Then it was all over, no crazy ritual and in less than two minutes. Mia figured they drew up all the contractual agreements before arriving and that Charlie was being used as some kind of insurance.

The trio’s hands healed up as if it were nothing, Charlie clapping and bouncing. “Lily, why don’t you take Charlie to make sure their arrangements are ready, yes? I need a moment with my siblings.” Lilith escorted their daughter out and finally, it was the three of them.

At this point, Mia couldn’t stop staring at her twin. He certainly didn’t look like her twin, but perhaps he had at some point. His face softened now. A clawed hand touched her cheek. Gabriel seemed disapproving, but let it happen. “Gabriel, get out.”

“Absolutely no-” His answer didn’t matter because instantly she was teleported with Lucifer into what looked to be a study. From the pictures and décor, she assumed it was his personal office.

His hand lingered on her face. “It really is you, isn’t it?”

Guilt consumed her chest, and a small smiled formed on her face. “I think you would know better than I at this point.”

He chuckled and dropped his hand, nodding. “You don’t remember anything?”

She shook her head. “I remember this life that I’m currently living. All of this feels bizarre. Everyone is expecting someone who looks like me and sounds like me, but isn’t me.”

Lucifer sat down on a loveseat and patted the spot next to him. Mia sat down without even thinking about it.

“But I don’t feel uncomfortable. I don’t feel unsafe. Which is insane technically. Maybe this will help.” Mia pulled at the magic tendrils she could feel around the braided ring of her glaive. It appeared, and Lucifer caught it before she could.

“This is proof enough,” he said with a grin, handing her back the weapon.

Lucifer summoned his own angelic sword. It matched Mia’s glaive in a complementary way. As if the weapons were twins. The two items pulsed with magic, recognizing the other. Something about it made her feel warm and happy. She sensed that maybe Lucifer felt the same thing.

“Don’t worry about remembering, alright Mica?” She’d never heard anyone call her that before. With a snap of his fingers, the weapons were gone, her ring back on, and he produced another ring.

“Gabriel’s magic won’t be as strong in Hell as it would be in Heaven or on Earth. I’ve prepared this for you.” Lucifer held out a delicate silver band. There was nothing assuming or special about it. He slipped it onto her index finger and gestured to a mirror across the room.

“Mortal souls in Hell immediately change appearance when becoming demons. This is a glamour, undetectable and unable to be destroyed. Just make sure you’re wearing the ring.”

She gasped and jumped when she saw herself in the mirror. “Holy f*ck!” His laugh filled the room, tears forming in his eyes.

“My dear baby sister is hilarious.” She looked back at him.

“I thought we were twins?”

“I’m still older,” he said smugly, booping her on the nose. “You can inspect your new glamour later. Take it off for now, if you don’t mind. I haven’t seen you in centuries.” Mia did as he asked and slipped the ring into a zip pocket so as not to lose it.

“Do I look the same?”

“Absolutely, though ... less certain. You don’t look like you could lead an angelic army to the pits of Hell to retrieve my head.”

Since he said it so lightheartedly, she went with a joke. “Apparently I couldn’t then either, since you still have it.”

They shared a laugh, and Lucifer pulled her into a rib crushing hug. Never would he have let anyone else see him like this, aside from Charlie or Lilith. Mia wrapped her arms around him as tight as she could in return.

“I want to remember one day. Until then, I’m sorry Luci.” Lucifer patted her on the back, but her words triggered those crafty gears in his head.

“I’m just happy to hear you say my name. You were the first one to ever call me Luci, you know. Now everyone does it. But I’d prefer you kept this little meeting between us. Reputation as a wicked king and what not.”

“I pinky promise,” she said with a giggle. With a wicked smile, he held out his pinky finger. It caused a deep purple and black glow to grow in the room, and she laughed nervously.

“I’m kidding!” He cackled, slapping her on the shoulder. “You’ve been spending too much time with Gabriel. He’s so boring and hateful.”

Mia snickered in agreement. She took the opportunity to change the subject.

“Charlie,” she started hesitantly, looking out of one of the large windows, “Why doesn’t she know the truth?”

Lucifer sighed and scratched the back of his head, removing the large white top hat. “To protect her. Charlie is my only child, and I would see every realm burnt back to the Eldritch before allowing harm to befall her. She doesn’t need to know things she can’t handle. She’s painfully pure and hopeful. Very much like an angel. I believe if she knew the truth, she’d try to help and ultimately get herself destroyed. You and Gabriel are here for protection, but I hope you can also help keep her distracted while I take on the dirty work. That hotel will keep you plenty busy, I’m certain. Pride City is not a safe place. Keeping that dream of hers going will be more than enough excitement.”

He was sweet, far sweeter than she had even imagined the devil could be, and it left her smiling. “Thought of everything, haven’t you Luci?”

“I’m certainly the clever one Mica. And the beautiful one.”

She jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow. If there had been any onlookers, they wouldn’t be able to tell that the ex-angel twins had spent more than a few hours apart, not eons.

A moment of bizarre peace lingered between them, before Luci grinned bashfully and said, “I’d say Gabe is throwing a fit right now.”

They laughed some more. Lucifer then took the time to show her the photos in his office. Most were of his small family through different periods of their lives, wearing whatever fashion suited the mortal plane. There were other demons, too. One photo was of him and six far larger creatures of varied appearances.

One of the more recent photos sported Charlie and Lucifer wearing matching shirts with only the graphic’s differing. There were other father-daughter pairs in the photo, one she recognized as Stolas, with an absolutely uninterested owl demon princess.

“You are so corny! Did you make her wear this?” Mia asked, pointing at Charlie’s shirt.

“I would never make my apple dumpling do something she didn’t want to do! It was her idea.” Lucifer’s shirt read ‘MY BOSS CALLS ME DAD’ while Charlie’s sported ‘BOSS’, with a crown hanging off of the ‘B’.

“This is so cute I can’t stand it.” But looking at the girl’s face made her wonder, “Do you really think souls can be redeemed?”

“Truly? I don’t think they want to, but anything is possible. I can’t support the project openly sinc-”

Mia waved her hand flippantly in the air. “Reputation. Evil genius. King of Hell. Got it. Honestly, I’m already in love with her. I wish I could have seen her grow up.” He patted her shoulder.

“No worries there. She has a lot of growing to do. Her new girlfriend is a mortal soul who arrived in 2014. What a firecracker, that one! She passed my training regimen with flying colors. Well, the only real color was red from the blood she split. Talented with most weapons.”

“Why would you test your daughter’s girlfriend? That’s one Hell of a way to ruin a relationship.” Lucifer and Mia caught the pun at the same time and giggled.

“Hell of a way, indeed. Charlie is a pacifist and I need someone I can trust to keep her safe. The demoness she’s with may not be a Goetia, but she puts up a good fight and makes logical, strategic decisions. She’ll also rat Charlie out the moment she tries anything stupid or dangerous.”

Mia couldn’t argue with that logic. Instead she asked, “And a Goetic demon is …?”

Lucifer groaned and slapped his face. “Forget it. I’ll have Stolas tutor you, so we don’t have any mishaps along the way. Luckily, you won’t need any information to play a recently deceased soul. Come along now, Mica!” He turned on heel and waltzed out of the room. Mia followed close behind, feeling uncharacteristically hopeful about this new life.

Chapter 4: Welcome

Chapter Text

Mia
Imperial Morningstar Estate
Next Cleanse: 331

Arriving in Hell turned out to be more pleasant and exciting than Mia originally assumed. When she and Lucifer rejoined the group, the scene was comical. Charlie was questioning Gabriel at rapid fire. He almost looked scared, the anger and tension normally in his face gone. On another couch across a coffee table was Lilith and a silver haired demoness. They had several books open, drinking tea, and chatting like scholars in Spanish.

Once Charlie noticed her father and aunt, she grabbed the silver haired girl and dragged her over. “Vaggie, this is my Aunt Michael!”

Mia looked at them with a lopsided smile. How many people had she met today? Oh well, what was one more? The new girl actually curtsied and Lucifer laughed. “Oh no, please! We’ve talked about this!” His tone was warm and jesting despite the reprimand.

“This is Charlie’s girlfriend, Vaggie.”

Vaggie extended her hand with a polite smile, “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance ma’am.”

“Please just call me Mia, please! I’m really happy to meet you! Luci said you’re quite impressive.” A proud yet bashful look spread across Vaggie’s face.

Charlie came up behind her girlfriend and snuck a kiss on her cheek. Mia noticed Lucifer sneaking away to do the same with Lilith. With the flick of the wrist, Charlie produced a board game. And it was a Hellishly appropriate game: Monopoly.

The Morningstar family started setting up the game on table in the room. Mia sat next to Gabriel, giving him a big smile. In a hushed voice she said, “I’m grateful you took me to Vassago’s that day. It kinda feels like I’m home.”

---

Their game had ended after four hours of mayhem and now it was time to move to the hotel. Mia and Gabriel climbed in the limo with Vagatha and an overly exuberant Charlie. The princess looked like she was going to burst at the seams. Then she did.

Jubilation erupted from her mouth. Rainbows may as well have drowned them. Charlie catapulted herself at the pair, wrapping her arms around their necks. She jumped up and down as much as the limo allowed, not able to contain her excitement and happiness.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh. OH. MY. GOSH. I love you both so much. Thank you again for coming to help with the hotel! I won’t let you down! We can save so many souls!” Charlie pulled back and stared their newly demonic forms in the face. Mia was touched beyond words. Charlie looked to be on the verge of tears, smiling like an insane person.

“I have soooooo many ideas. For so long it has been me and Mom and Dad but now?! I have more family. I mean I guess I’ve always had family since Dad has so many siblings but I’ve always heard ‘angel murderers’ this and ‘hypocritical goody two shoe jerks’ that.” Her voice mimicked Lucifer’s in recollecting what he said of angels. Mia snorted as Charlie covered her nose, acting haughty.

“I didn’t think I’d ever get to meet any of you! And now we can stop the exterminations! I might even get a cousin one day!” Her tone dropped suggestively and she flashed them finger guns. “I always wanted siblings, but I’ll settle for a cousin!”

Vaggie put a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. It wasn’t difficult for the princess to spiral out of control with fanatical ideas. The sheer amount of emotion was making her drunk with love for her new aunt and uncle. Mia grinned at her and petted on the girl’s fluffy hair. Charlie reminded her of a Pomeranian.

“Charlotte,” Gabriel started, placing a hand on the girl’s shoulder, “you know you can not address us as family, correct?”

Depression consumed her expression but she nodded in agreement. “Do you both have an idea of what to tell the others? We have a third manager at the hotel and Dad said it may be best not to tell him about ya know, everything. Or anything.”

“Yes, it would be best to keep this between us.” He eyed Vagatha who nodded. The pale demoness added, “I think your cover would best serve as hotel employees. You’re siblings, recently deceased, and decided to work for us for room and board. Easy solution. The real question is can you keep your story straight and how can you help the hotel?”

Vaggie was definitely growing on Gabriel who appreciated her cut and dry logic. That ruthless integrity would save her one day. “I can handle exercise, sparring, self defense and the likes.”

Charlie clapped and grabbed his hands. “Welcome aboard Coach!”

Oh no. Was she always going to call him coach now? Mia slapped him heartily on the back, a laugh ringing through the limo. “Good job Air Bud!”

“Really?” The dog jokes were inevitable. Mia scratched him on the ear next. It was horrifying how good it felt, especially with her newfound claws. Lucifer promised that he had no influence on how souls took demonic form in Hell but something about Gabriel becoming a damn canine was too much. Then again, he loved dogs. Glimpsing in the window, he looked like some kind of Akita or Inu or Husky. Perky and soft.

“Who’s a good boy? You are! Oh yes you are!” He slapped her hands away with an embarrassed huff.

Vaggie reigned them in by clapping her hands together. “Ok, so what can you do?”

Mia grimaced. “Uh … math?”

If the moth demoness could have face palmed any harder, she’d lost her good eye. “That’s probably not going to help us. You’ll soon realize we don’t attract the scholarly sort.”

Mia’s lips twisted in thought and her wings gave a slight flutter. What could she do? Academia was an all encompassing thing but she had plenty of hobbies. And she was a solid teacher.

“Oh!” Her wings flitted open with the revelation and she leaned forward. “I could start a community garden and work in the kitchen! Or teach chess...”

Vaggie huffed, “The garden and kitchen would be a good start and enough work. Chess will just get you bullied in there … though I would like to learn.”

“Then I can teach you! See! First student already. Easy peasy.”

“This is going to be ah-may-zingggg~” Charlie sang out in delight. New employees. New family. Her day must be going really well.

“Before we reach the hotel you should know about our other, eh, partner. He’s called the Radio Demon. He’s powerful, malicious, scheming, and petty. If he tries to make a deal with you do not accept and immediately tell us. I hope you two will have your story straight because if he finds a hole in it I can’t imagine what he’d do.”

Mia interjected, “If he’s that bad, why is he at the hotel? Seems a little paradoxical.”

Vaggie’s fists clenched in absolute annoyance. “That’s exactly the case. He’s bored. He’s helping us to fuel his sick amusem*nt to watch souls that want to be redeemed fail. Two of the staff are his lackeys. One is Husk, our front desk clerk. The other is Nifty. She takes care of the cleaning.” She continued on explaining some of the hotel guests so they wouldn’t be caught off guard.

In hopes to salvage the opinions of Husk and Nifty, Charlie chimed, “But they’re really nice and Nifty is so sweet!”

“So let’s go over your story. How’d you die?” Vaggie started, pointing at Mia and ignoring the fact she wouldn't label either of their new 'staff' as nice or sweet. Deranged, maybe.

“Double suicide. Overdose.”

Then she turned her finger on Gabriel, “What were your sins?”

“We worked together in a white collar nursing home. I was embezzling from retirement funds and other accounts. She was selling prescription drugs of the patients.”

“Relationship?”

“Siblings.”

“Names and ages?”

“Milton Miller. Mia Miller. 33 and 27, respectively.”

“How did you get a job at the hotel?”

“We applied together. Package deal. Working in exchange for boarding. We saw a flyer and a 666 news rerun of Charlie’s interview.” Mia looked away, avoiding Charlie’s eyes when she brought up the TV singing fiasco.

Vaggie didn’t look impressed. It wasn’t a complicated story and would certainly get people sent to Hell. Gabriel seemed reliable and Mia seemed to just not know enough to ruin the plan. It might work. Simple plans made simple solutions, right?

“Keep in mind that if people start asking questions, it is completely reasonable to just be an ass. Everyone else here does it. You can also just claim to not remember. A lot of sinners don’t have full memories the first year or two.”

Mia made a mental note in her head to always feign stupid. The limo slowed and came to a halt.

Showtime.

While Gabriel, Razzle, and Dazzle were gathering bags from the trunk, she stepped over to the railing to get a better view.

Pride City beyond the hotel court yard was … abysmal. It looked like New York became a literal sin city. Sulfuric air caused her nose to wrinkle and eyes to water. Screams rang around them, some sharp, some dulled, but always constant. The concrete jungle sprawled out of site, neon lights blinking in the distance

Charlie skipped over to her aunt. “Come on Mia, it’s time!”

The pair followed everyone else inside. Between the outside architecture and the inside décor, it was not what she expected. There was little opportunity to check out the entryway of photos before coming upon the ... bar? Front desk? Was it both?

“Wait, isn’t this a place of redemption?” The confusion in her voice spoke for Gabriel too. His head tilted in that adorable way dogs do, ears twitching.

Vaggie groaned. Charlie chuckled nervously, hands fidgeting. “Well it is one of the big selling points for getting people in the door.” Maybe Mia just wouldn’t ask anymore questions today. Charlie rang the desk bell.

“What in the f*ck is it now?”

“Everyone this is Husk! Husk, these are some new employees for the hotel! Mia and Milton! Would you mind getting us some room keys for them on the employee floors? And let everyone know that dinner is mandatory tonight! We’re having a welcome party!”

The cat, or what Mia assumed was maybe a cat, rolled his eyes and took a long drink. The green bottle was labeled ‘Cheap Booze’. Unceremoniously, the keys were smacked onto the counter. “Floors three and four.”

It bothered her not to be on the same floor as Gabriel but he seemed unfazed and handed her the key to the fourth floor. Mia shoved the key into her pocket and saddled up to Gabriel’s side. “No adverse reaction?” she asked with an impish grin.

“To what?” His proper sounding accent was no longer in play.

“Oh nothing, just wasn’t sure if you wanted to chase the cat.” A small growl emitted from his muzzle and her grin split wider. His elbow made contact with her ribs. She stepped on his foot. To think she once saw him as this perfect, sophisticated, kind gentleman. Now he was just a cantankerous stick in the mud. She took her phone and snapped a sneaky photo to send to Vas. Gabriel would suffer at the hands of his siblings’ ridicule.

“Husk,” Vaggie asked, “where’s Nifty?”

“The f*ck should I know?” The exchange between the two ignited a small argument about professional mannerisms and respect. Charlie pulled Gabriel and Mia away to an elevator.

“Sorry about that. Vaggie is really passionate about this project. I know you both have a lot of questions but at least take some time to rest in your rooms. I’m going to send out some texts to let everyone know about tonight. If you need anything please, please, please call me or swing by our office! It is down the hall past the stairs.”

Charlie shooed them in and only when the door shut did the shouting stop.

“We really doing this Gabe?” She asked.

“Listen, you can’t call me that. Not here. Stay quiet. Talk to no one. Go to your room and I’ll come get you for dinner. I have preparations to focus on.”

This hallway curved out of sight on both ends. Doors were randomly marked with words, titles, numbers, or sometimes nothing but an odd picture. She pulled back out the key.

‘127.0.0.1’

“Oh that’s funny.”

Her room number was the IP designation for one’s home address. The small joke left her feeling pretty good as she continued her search. Eventually she found her door wedged into a small alcove at the end of another labyrinthian hallway.

The room was actually more of a small apartment. The first room had a small kitchenette, a sitting area, some more furniture, and another off shoot to a bedroom, a walk in closet, then finally a pretty nice bathroom. An ‘L’ shaped balcony connected the main room and the bedroom.

On the bed was her luggage. Stacked next to it were wrapped gifts and a black envelope. She eyed it suspiciously. A purple and gold wax seal, pressed with a snake coiled around an apple told her exactly who sent it.

Mica,

These are for you. Don’t tell Gabriel. He may confiscate them. Such a bore.

XOXO,
Luci

P.S. Welcome to Hell. I’ve missed you.

Immediately after she read the last line, the letter faded into wisps of black smoke. Small tears pricked her eyes. Something about the letter caused her heart to pang.

Gently she unwrapped the boxes. They were wrapped with luxurious scarves instead of paper.

There were three total. First she found a photo frame. Beautifully mounted inside was a flower crown, pressed and preserved. Small flowers of pink, yellow, and lilac dappled fern like leaves.

Next were two identical wooden boxes, stacked together, carved in a style she could not identify. Their condition was immaculate. Inside one was stationary, inks, and fountain pens. The pens were mismatched and she had the vaguest sense all of these were hers at some point in mortal history.

The second box held a small key on thin chain. A set of instructions read:

This key will always bring you to our estate. All you have to do is knock it three times against a closed door. Lilith and Charlie also have one.

She slipped the long chain over her head. At this point, no part of her could dispute the love her twin held for her. He treated her like family, going as far to offer her the same protections of his wife and daughter. Eyeing the stationary, she planned to write him back. Though she would have to ask Charlie how to get it to him.

The third and final gift was a recipe book, entirely in French. It was old, but not antique. Mia flipped through a couple pages, not able to actually read any of it. The book was well loved with at least three or four handwriting styles on different pages and within the margins. Some was English, more French, Spanish, and some other language she’d not seen. The other gifts were more obvious than the book.

Easily it could have been hers. Perhaps she held onto it through different lifetimes? That theory didn’t really account for the different handwriting styles. Mia placed the items in the nightstand for safe keeping, except for the flower crown which she placed out on the dresser. The dresser’s mirror shocked her. It would take a while to get used to the alien-esque glamour.

Mia slid off the demon costume ring. She felt absolutely nothing as her image faded back to pale skin, human eyes, and strawberry blonde hair. Funnily enough, she looked a little like Charlie. Then she put the ring back on her index finger. Once again, there was no feeling as the glamour took hold.

The charcoal skin, large, pupil-less eyes the color of fog, opalescent white hair. Her ears extended up, out of her hair like a mythical fae, coming to sharp points at the back of her skull. She turned around a couple times to get a full view. The dragonfly wings, iridescent and delicate, came out of her back. They cast a faint, diffracted light on the wall. Her height was the same but her features and the curves of her body were tight like the turns of a backroad. She looked absolutely gorgeous. An alien, elven model whose proportions should be illegal.

Focusing, she tried fluttering her wings, but they wouldn’t budge. They didn’t seem like something she could control, only serving as eye candy and an unfortunate telltale of emotions.

Next she practiced summoning her glaive. The magic Gabriel imbued it with made easier for her to pull it, but every time she either stabbed the ceiling, dropped it, and eventually slashed a curtain. Her an angel? Mia was no stranger to Christian lore but for her to be Michael … That seemed like too much.

She fell back onto the bed, the long pokey stick clutched to her chest. Gabriel had high hopes for her, which was unfortunate. All she did was get on his nerves and disappoint him. At least Lucifer appeared satisfied with her mere existence and robust personality. Being useful to Gabe seemed impossible.

Screw it!

Releasing the magic, the glaive twisted back around her middle finger and she hopped up. If she couldn’t help Gabe then fine. But maybe she could make a difference here in Hell. Eyeing the clock, it was much too early for him to fetch her. Day one and she was already going to be in trouble with him.

Oh well. Too bad. So sad.

Mia wiggled into a new pair of eggplant colored pants, cut slits for her wings into a tight, black long sleeved shirt, and tied her hair back. Her rings were on, the key hidden under her shirt, and renewed curiosity gripping her mind.

Going to the first floor, she wanted to find Charlie. The office door was barely cracked, like someone forgot to close it all the way. She peeped through, only to catch Charlie and Vaggie getting overly friendly on top of a desk. A warmth spread in her heart as she internally rooted for the young lovers. Her next target was the lobby.

Opulent, gothic, and apple were the three words that came to mind while eyeing the open room. An odd round fire place. Furniture that looked like monsters and she was pretty sure the couch blinked. The front desk from earlier was most certainly a bar. Mia traced a claw over the glowing green where the rich motif joined with another mismatched wall. Copy and pasted right in the lobby.

She leaned over the bar, gazing down at the cat man, curled up and purring. He was in a cat bed, tucked halfway under the bar and out of sight.

“Uh. Excuse me?” Her voice didn’t stir the sleeping demon. Shrugging, she decided to serve herself. Half on top of the counter, ass in the air, she took some whisky and poured it into a glass. Then she heard a wolf whistle.

“Damn toots, keep that up and we might get more jerks shackin’ up here in no time. Pour me one while ya at it dollface.”

Mia did as the disembodied mobster voice asked. With two glasses she sat back down, only to see an over eight foot tall, fuzzy, four armed, pink and white demon. She couldn’t tell what kind, but that was becoming commonplace for her now. Mutely, she handed him the glass. He downed it in one go and poured himself another. It took him a lot less effort to reach the bottle over the counter.

“Thanks, baby cakes,” he said with a grin. “New arrival?”

Mia nodded, staring rudely at him. He chuckled, pushing up his fuzzy bust, “Spider demon. Ya must be new. Name’s Angel Dust.”

“Mia. And yeah, definitely a newbie as of yesterday. To the hotel and Hell.”

“Here for that sweet, sweet redemption?”

“Meh. My brother and I got jobs here today.” Angel faked a gag. “Charlie talked ya into that flack, eh? Ain’t a soul here worth saving toots. Ya gonna learn. What’s the job? Also, ya brother hot?”

“Ew. I mean … Yeah. He was. I dunno. I tried hooking up with him before I knew he was my brother. Bleh. Whatever, I’m the gardener and cook.” She said, sliding her glass at him. He graciously poured her at least three shots, winking at her as if he was implying something about Gabriel. Then again, she just admitted out loud her new brother was hot.

“Ya too hot for sh*t work like that,” he said, eyeing her up and down. “What is ya anyway? Some kinda bug?”

“I suppose I’m a dragonfly.”

“Can ya fly?”

“I don’t think so. Basically glorified ornaments, you know? But I appreciate the compliment.” She couldn’t even twitch them in demonstration.

Angel smirked and moved onto the bar seat next to her. “Get used to it Mia. Hot pieces like us get our fair share of gropes, grabs, hoots, hollers, and solicitations. Hope your hot brother brought a stick. The gals are just as bad as the guys here.”

Mia shuddered. “Great. Sexiest I’ve ever been and now I get to look forward to a world of harassment.”

He laughed and raised a glass. “Cheers to that doll! I guess ya the reason Charlie demanded we call come back early?”

“Do you work here?”

“Oh, f*ck no. f*ck no. I’m the first soul to check in and the clout that brings in new faces.”

“So you’re actually famous?”

“Ya really are new.”

“Alright, what’s with the narcoleptic cat?” Mia pointed over the bar at a purring Husk. Angel’s face turned delightfully mischievous. He gave her a wink and slinked behind the bar. Mia hoisted herself up to watch the shenanigans. Angel laid down on the floor.

The bottom arms propped him up while the top two made way for Husk’s head. Each hand took an ear. The way Angel petted and gazed at Husk made her feel like she was watching two lovers. Purrs grew louder and Husk unconsciously nuzzled into the touch. Angel then but his mouth next to the cat’s ear and gently moaned, “Oh, Husky baby. You like that?”

Startled, Mia flung herself backwards off the stool. The reason being that Husk, with a ferocious growl, bristled wings, and glowing eyes, flipped Angel expertly onto the bar, stomach down. One clawed hand had all four of Angel’s pinned together on his back, the other hand wrapped menacingly around his neck.

“You stupid f*cking piece of sh*t, tramp! I ought rip your head right off that disgusting strung out body! Maybe I’ll show you - ”

A polite cough interrupted the cat’s seething anger. Suddenly Mia realized she hadn’t tumbled onto the floor. The chaos between Angel and Husk distracted her from the fact she had been caught. A dark grey hand sporting red knuckles, red claws was wrapped around her waist, supporting her full weight with ease.

“Angel, I don’t think you should tease our shell-shocked friend!”

From the crook of his arm, she looked up to see a rather handsome demon. Grey skin. A broad, jagged smile. Red eyes. Red everything, actually. His dapper attire rivaled his hair. Gingerly, he released her. “Please excuse my comrades. They are certainly the lively sort. No shortage of entertainment to be had at the Hazbin Hotel! Who might you be, my dear?”

At the bar, Husk pushed Angel all the way over. The spider landed in a lewd pose on the floor, winking at the cat, who still seemed consumed by anger. Maybe even anxiety? Realizing she hadn’t answered the man in red, “Mia. Mia Miller. New arrival. Thank you, by the way.”

She outstretched her hand to the man who towered over her by a couple feet. Mia had never considered herself short until moving to Hell.

“Quite a well-mannered thing you are! I’m always available to lend a hand to the fairer folk.” His hand grabbed hers firmly, and he leaned in over her to the point she was encompassed by his shadow. Only then did she notice two pitch forks on his head and that the tufts of hair were actually ears.

“I’m Alastor, one of the hotel’s owners. Pleasure to be making your acquaintance, Miss Miller! What brings you to our lovely establishment? Looking to right your foul, mortal deeds?”

Now she was uncomfortable. Mia figured this was the Radio Demon Vaggie mentioned earlier. The static and lo-fi intonations gave it away. Instinct told her not to shy away, even though the wings on her back shivered and fluttered nervously. If she could teach a lecture hall of two hundred freshmen, she could do this.

“An honor to meet you Mister Alastor!” Her face craned up a couple inches, eyes bright, voice light and warm.

“Charlie hired my brother and I this morning and we’re so grateful for such a wonderful opportunity! It isn’t everyday one becomes associated with the Princess of Hell and the revered Radio Demon.” Alastor’s eyebrow popped up under his bangs. His grip on her hand tightened. She wasn’t playing the prey to his predator and that he found awfully rude.

“Delightful! I-” Suddenly she was ripped away from the Radio Demon. Gabriel had a firm grip on her upper arm. His lip was pulled back over his teeth in a snarl.

“What did I tell you?” He snapped in a hush tone. She tried to shake him off with a glowering look, but he wasn’t having it.

“Sorry.” She huffed.

“We’ll talk about this later.” His white-blue eyes shifted to look at Alastor. The look on Gabriel’s face terrified her, and she didn’t know why. He removed his paw from her arm and reached out his hand in greeting. “Please excuse my sister. She can be dense.”

Alastor’s smile didn’t fade, but he leaned back to avoid the outstretched dog demon’s hand. “Not at all. She’s been ever so delightful.” His voice sounded tight, eyes honed in on Gabriel. Tension filled the room as the two men stared each other down. Alastor ignored the hand. “And who might you be my good fellow? If you’re lost, I’m sure we can get you directions to the pound.”

Mia snickered and smirked. That was funny. A soft growl rumbled from Gabriel’s throat. “Milton Miller. My sister and I were hired this morning.”

“Yes, so I heard from your darling sister. One shouldn’t be too rough with women, my boy! You may attract unwanted attention.” At the bar, Husk and Angel went dead silent, forgetting their earlier rough housing. Was a fight getting ready to break out?

“Alastor, you said your name was?” Gabriel asked, pulling Mia further behind him as his lip struggled not to snarl, his breaths turning bizarrely even. She couldn't stop her utter confusion. She'd never seen him so defensive and alert before.

“Indeed. Though some do call me ‘The Radio Demon’.”

Before the exchange could go any farther, Charlie skipped into the room, Vaggie following behind. “This is so exciting! Al, have you met our new employees?”

“Why yes, Charlotte! We were just getting acquainted with each other! These siblings have such vibrant personalities! What a fine addition to the staff!”

Charlie went over and looped her arm into Mia’s, bouncing and smiling. “Well, dinner is ready! Razzle, Dazzle, and Nifty just finished setting the table. We’ll be in the large dining room so everyone else can join us!” In the process of being dragged off, Mia peeked at the Radio Demon, then Gabriel. Both were still eyeing the other with less than honorable intentions. Of course, she didn’t want this to become a thing. But it was probably going to become a thing, knowing her luck.

Chapter 5: Waltz

Chapter Text

Mia
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 330

Mia couldn’t sleep, given all the excitement of the day before. After the introductory dinner, Gabriel had dragged her off unceremoniously and lectured her about safety and other bullsh*t she didn’t listen to. He also told her they would resume her training five days a week before dawn. It sounded awful, but there was no room for disagreement.

She didn’t want to think about it. She put on some fresh clothes and made her way downstairs. Technically, Charlie didn’t expect her to start until tomorrow, but the restlessness would be the death of her. The kitchen was clean and organized. There were signs that someone was using it from time to time. Mia went to the pantry and put on one of the aprons hanging up. She then took the time to list how much and what was in the kitchen. Mia wanted to take this seriously and tried to remember every Gordon Ramsey show she’d ever seen.

Music from her phone echoed in the kitchen as she started putting together a large breakfast for the hotel. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Angel Dust rolling in, looking disheveled in a sparkling pink tube top dress. He noticed her too and took a seat at the kitchen island. “Ain’t nobody ever up this early.”

“You look like you’re just rolling in.”

He grinned at her and pulled out a cigarette. Mia yanked it from his hand and snapped it in half. “Not in my kitchen."

“Geez, ya worse than Vaggie.” He pouted, slouching down onto the counter.

“I don’t give a sh*t if you smoke. I do give a sh*t about you smoking in my kitchen.” She nagged, whisking some eggs and starting a pot of coffee.“How about this? I’ll make your breakfast first to keep your mouth busy. What do you want?”

“Oh baby, ya outta know this mouth could use a break after the night I jus’ had.”

“Food, Angel.” She scolded, despite cracking a grin. They shared a sense of unrefined humor.

His face turned childlike. “Waffles! With whipped cream and berries! Oh, and juice! And eggs! And some for Nuggs, too?”

“Nuggs?” she questioned, pulling down the waffle ingredients.

Almost immediately, Angel shoved his phone screen in her face. There was a demonic teacup pig in his arms, dressed in a matching fur collar.

“Oh. My. God!” Mia squealed, and they spent the next twenty minutes only talking about his baby while she made his breakfast. Christmas outfits. Sometimes those fake press-on tattoos. Nugg’s bed. These pictures were a testament to how much Angel loved the pet he called a child. Mia also learned more about what brand of famous he was.

She sat down a plate of beautiful fluffy waffles for him and some hot maple syrup. Angel moaned and groaned while stuffing his face. “Oh Doll, this sh*t is the sh*t!” One of his hands kept shoveling food while the other three gave her a thumbs up. Mia started putting together a small plate for Fat Nugget, who she desperately wanted to meet.

Angel kept her company while she worked on the rest of the food. “What was up with you and Husker, Angel?”

His face fell, remembering the chaos he caused. “Husky is an old Vietnam vet. I died before then in ‘47, but I remember the news down here while it was going on up top. Hell really is just a trashier version of Earth, news included. Left him pretty f*cked up.”

“So why’d you do it?”

His hands raked through his hair as he groaned in frustration. “I dunno! I like Husky’s attention … good or bad. That fur ball lets his guard down only when he’s sleepin’. So precious and cute and cuddly, all curled up like a lil puss* cat.”

Mia noticed how Angel’s voice changed while talking about Husk. She’d been here less than 24 hours and it was pretty obvious that Angel had a thing for the gruff cat. She postured herself over the counter and leaned in close. “I’m no psychiatrist Angel but Vietnam vets up top are known to have some of the most profound cases of post-traumatic stress. I think maybe instead of exacerbating his issues, you may want to find ways to ease his nerves.”

Angel scoffed. “Oh yeah, toots? Why ought I do that, for that angry drunk?”

“It’s painfully obvious, toots,” she said, mimicking his accent, making an overly unimpressed face, gesturing in that cinematic Italian way. “Flies with honey and all that. I’m just saying if you really like him, wouldn’t you want him to feel safe around you instead of wondering if he wants to snap your neck?”

Angel blinked at her as if this had never crossed his mind. The spider demon was so used to his life as it was that the idea never occurred. “Huh.”

Mia smiled and nodded. “Yep. If you’re serious, that is.”

“I’ll think about it. Ya got a good head kid,” he said, picking up the plate for Nuggs. Angel sauntered out of the kitchen, leaving Mia to shake her head. Everyone here really was so f*cked up that simple, basic, kind solutions didn’t even register.

“Charlie’s got her work cut out for her.”

Around 7AM, while she started setting up the food in a buffet style, Nifty whizzed down. Mia only got to briefly say hi last night due to Gabriel’s hounding. She suddenly wondered if memes were a thing in Hell and if she could get away with puns. Or would someone take to slaughtering her for it?

“Good morning!” she said to the cyclops girl.

“Oh hello! I’m Nifty! We met last night, but your brother took you away before I could talk to you or him!” Her words were as fast as her feet, and it took Mia a second to process them all.

“Haha, yeah. He can be a bit overbearing, but he means well. I’ve made breakfast. Would you like some?” Nifty gathered a plate and sat next to Mia, who was on her third cup of coffee for the morning. One thing she noted on her to-do list was to get an espresso machine.

“How old is your brother? Is he single? He’s very attractive. I think he must have been blond!”

Mia quirked an eyebrow at the small demoness, “33. Yes. Yes. And yes.” Gleefully, Nifty clapped.

“It’s gonna be so nice to have a man around here. Angel is a lady and Baxter stays in his lab and he smells weird. Then there’s Al, but he’s my boss and sooo not my type.” Nifty went on about her taste in men while Mia ate. The rambling was interesting, though jumbled. She noticed Nifty’s hand itching for the knife on the table when she started talking about fan-fictions with trash pairings. Even the cute ones could be crazy, it seemed.

Word had spread about a proper breakfast, and several guests were now in the large dining hall. Charlie came over and hugged Mia. “Oh, thank you! The food looks delicious! I can’t wait to dig in! I can’t believe this many guests came down!”

Even though she met the workers last night, there were actual guests. Around twenty-five. From the way everyone talked about the hotel, Mia was shocked so many checked in. Charlie walked off to take care of some business and Vaggie sat down with her and Nifty. “This is a great job, Mia! You didn’t have to start a day early.”

“I couldn’t sleep at all, so I got a leg up on the work. Later I’ll have some lists and ideas if you don’t mind us going over them. Like the food?” Vaggie nodded, pouring hot sauce on some eggs and toast, making a sandwich.

“Seriously, it is good. We don’t get too many homemade meals around here.”

“Would you mind pointing out the guests?” Vaggie washed down her food and scooted closer.

“So from left to right we have: Baxter, an angler fish demon. He does a lot of weird experiments. Please be careful, he’s odd even for this bunch. Crymini, a hyena demon, died as a teenager and has a massive attitude. Irina and Katerina are the mousey twins with the Eastern European accents. Not sure what their deal is yet.” While Vaggie continued down the line. Mia was surprised at how few of the guests were males, just four. No wonder Nifty was desperate.

“Rag-tag bunch, huh?” She mused.

Vaggie nodded. “A couple of them really are interested. Plenty of decent people wind up in Hell for stupid sh*t. The majority, though, like the free room and board.” Mia’s brow furrowed.

“You just let anyone come in for free? As long as they say they want to be redeemed?”

The Latina shrugged, defeated. “Charlie insists on it. Now that we have good food, more people may come , but I seriously don’t know what to do with them.”

Mia rested her chin on her fists, trying to come up with ideas. “I was hoping to talk with you and Charlie. I genuinely believe this could work, Vags. You ok if I call you that?”

“Fine by me. Beats being called Tacorita by Angel.”

“That’s not even funny.”

Vaggie grinned, “I know, right? He could at least put in some effort. Anyway, I was thinking of hiring the guests, maybe coming up with a work bonus system. They hold small workshops for other guests and get paid, given they don’t royally screw up or start fights. We’re going to need Hellhounds or something if we fill up.”

“Checking in for redemption is one thing, but why wouldn’t people line up around the block to work for the Princess of Hell?”

“Lucifer.” Mia mouthed an ‘ohhh’. It made sense.

“He thinks pretty highly of you, actually.” Vaggie fiddled with the ends of her hair, smiling. The reaction was honest and cute,

“Being a mortal soul associated with the royal family feels like so much pressure sometimes. And actually, even if this redemption thing goes well, I won’t ever take part. I just want to stay by her side.” Mia watched Vaggie melt wistfully, gaze turning to Charlie with a passion that was admiring and hungry.

Mia hugged the other girl much too quickly. “You guys are too cute!”

Vaggie squeaked from the tight embrace, “I’m starting to see the family resemblance!” she wheezed out. It was official that death grip hugs were genetic to the Morningstar family. “Chess lesson later?”

“That would nice. Charlie is good at chess, but I never let her teach me to play. She’s almost too supportive. Too optimistic. We can also get you started in the back courtyards. Then in the next week or two, you may be conducting interviews.”

“Uh, what? I just got here.”

“We need staff, and anyone handling food is officially under your jurisdiction. I’d say it’ll just be some of the guests though, so don’t think about it too hard. Just keep Nifty out of the knives.”

Mia nodded. Standing up, she excused herself to find Gabriel. She hadn’t seen him at breakfast at all, so she gathered up a heaping plate of food and set out to find him. Luck was on her side as she spotted him through a door into a sizable, empty room.

“I have you some breakfast!” He came over to her, and she finally got a decent look at his demonic form. Gabriel looked a lot like Loona, she thought, only white and blond and brown, with shorter fur and big icy blue eyes.

“Thanks. How long have you been up?” They sat next to each other on the floor.

“A while. I made breakfast for the whole place. Couldn’t sleep.”

Their conversation was dull since they had only gotten into a fuss yet again last night.

“What do you expect from me?” Mia’s face twisted with uncertainty as she asked, looking down at the floor. Gabriel sighed and scratched one of his ears.

“I know I’m tough on you. But you can handle it. Hell is a dangerous place and you can’t trust anyone here. They’re all here for a reason, Mia. Plus, the Pagans may not be here yet, but they might be one day. I need you to stay safe and lie low. I get that none of this is fun. Hell isn’t exactly a comfortable place.”

“I just went from having all the freedom I could want to having none. And you’re always angry at me.”

His paw landed softly on her shoulder. “I wish I could make you understand.” That was not a helpful comment. Mia rolled her eyes. “Sometimes I will be gone to help Vassago or work with Lucifer. The sooner we can fix our Pagan problem, the sooner I can take you home.”

Her eyes met his. This was his version of comfort, and she knew that. Mia hugged him. “I’ll stay at the hotel unless I talk to you. How’s that?”

He smiled. “Be cautious, please. Stick to the story. I know you won’t stay in your room, so please keep out of trouble. And stay away from that Radio Demon.”

“Guess you guys didn’t hit it off great?” She accused, laughing at him. She playfully punched him in the arm, and he retaliated by tipping her over onto the floor.

“Let’s say I knew someone exactly like him a long time ago. I only want to protect you and that is the sort of demon that will leave you worse than dead.”

That was a rather dramatic statement, even for Gabriel, but where demons were concerned, he knew better than she did. “Got it, got it. Avoid the Strawberry Pimp.” Gabriel howled in laughter, tail thumping hard on the floor. “That’s what Angel calls him. Will you at least try to get to know some of these people? They aren’t terrible so far.”

His face turned deadpan. “No. Vagatha seems relatively normal, but this isn’t permanent. Don’t bother getting attached and don’t bother trying to help them out. None of this may even be possible.”

She frowned. “Charlie is a good person and actually deserves our help. Why wouldn’t we just stay with Luci if we didn’t plan on helping? What if she’s right?”

It was his turn to roll his eyes. “It doesn’t matter because I have no say in the designation of mortal souls. That isn’t my dominion. We’re here for protection and to observe. If Charlie can do a good enough job, I may get someone down here about it. That’s the most I can feasibly do. Until then, we’re just hiding out. Please, I am begging you, Mia. Behave.”

His attitude always left her deflated. It was a vicious cycle. Talk to Gabriel. Get upset. Argue. Walk away. Feel guilty for not remembering anything. Talk to Gabriel. Get upset. And then over and over and over. Mia stood up.

“I’ll behave, but I have literally nothing else to do here, so I’m going to help. I’ll see you later, Milton. And take your dishes back to the kitchen.”

As she passed through the door, he said, “Tomorrow 4:30AM.”

“Oh, for f*ck’s sake!” She flipped him off and disappeared.

---

Mia started on the hotel’s dinner earlier than needed since she received an accurate head count. She’d spent most of the day brainstorming ideas in the run down back courtyards. Between budgets, meal plans, and schedules, her brain was fried. And she still needed to talk with Charlie and Vaggie about these things. Some of her better ideas included food at the bar on the weekends and having made to order food and brunch on Sunday. They may have been basic ideas, but it was something.

Tonight she decided on putting together a couple roasts. That way, there would be leftovers for lunch tomorrow. An eastern European waltz filled the air. Mia worked, sometimes doing a box step or twirl. One of her several hobbies included ballroom dancing. She’d been lucky that her university had an active club for it.

The Russian Brass Band was halfway through ‘On the Hills of Manchuria’ when she rotated, arms extended as if she had a partner. Her eyes shot open and blood ran cold when, out of nowhere, the imaginary figure materialized. Red filled her view as she felt the shifting pull of someone leading a dance. His hand on her side was gentle but demanding in its control.

Alastor’s height should have been an issue, but between his skill and her wedged boots, they fit.

The next track filled the kitchen, a Viennese Waltz that was upbeat from the moment it started. Instead of ruining the fun by asking him what the f*ck he was doing, she decided to enjoy it. Her back bent and neck craned, transforming into a proper dancer, following his every whim. He could have twirled her off a cliff and there would be nothing she could do to stop it. That’s what it meant to trust the leader.

The song ended too quickly. The carefree world would fade away too fast. As the music tapered off, Alastor spun her out of his arms.

Once she completed the turn, she whipped around. The smile on her face split from ear to ear.

“What the … ?”

He wasn’t there. She looked around the kitchen, in the hall, and out into the smaller dining room, but the red man was nowhere to be found. She’d just have to thank him later, she guessed. Or had she hallucinated the whole ordeal?

Mia finished dinner faster as she expected to see him, but he didn’t show. Distracted by the whole ordeal, she sat down at a random table without noticing who else sat there.

“May I help you?” said a snarky male with an antiquated accent.

Across the round table was Baxter. His dinner sat untouched, a couple of books and several papers spread out in front of him.

“Oops. Sorry. I wasn’t paying attention when I sat down.”

“Obviously.” Rude. She eyed his books and perked up.

“I had no idea you could get textbooks in Hell! Where did you get them?” His annoyance with her was palpable.

“You can’t get them.” Her eyebrow raised up.

“Oh?” Her tone was challenging. “And why is that?”

He didn’t answer her, scratching down some more notes. Mia smirked and took a drink. “That’s fine. Though I’d hate to leave you floundering. I bet you haven’t noticed it yet.”

“Ha ha. If that’s the best you’ve got, you're going to have a rough time in Hell, Madam.” His eye twitched, lips snarling up over jagged teeth. “Noticed what?”

“Your math is wrong. Like, really wrong. I would have helped, but since you’re so smart and clever already, I’m sure you’ve caught at least two … oh no, three mistakes.”

Baxter rolled his eyes, then smiled.

“Well, I’m sure if you’re so talented, why don’t you prove it? Here.” He slid over a book, a couple pieces of paper, and a pencil.

Mia examined the title, then flashed him a wide smile. She flipped to a random part of the book and selected one of the hard problems. Other than referencing a couple of places in the text, she was done in fifteen minutes.

Baxter raised an eyebrow at the work and nodded approvingly. “Finally. Someone who isn’t an absolute buffoon in this desolate waste.” He reached over the table to shake her hand. “Baxter Brookheart. Established scientist and researcher. I drowned in the Atlantic in 1911. And you, Madam?”

“Mia Miller. Newly appointed cook and gardener. Suicide pact with my brother,” Mia pointed over at Gabriel, who was gathering food onto a plate. They sat back down and started talking math. “I can help you get books, by the way. I just don’t associate myself with the others often. Too busy with my work.”

He started telling her about how he got books from Earth on the black-market but she noticed Gabriel approaching. With a gesture to shut up and a nod in Gabriel’s direction, Baxter deftly switched topics. He continued by talking about his life with painfully dull details hoping to ward off her brother.

Regardless of Baxter's efforts, Gabriel sat on Mia’s right-hand side.

“Baxter, this is my older brother, Milton. He’s doing ... What are you doing again?” She knew it was athletic, but forgot the rest.

“I’m teaching self defense, some exercise, and sports classes. Milton Miller.”

“It’s interesting,” Baxter started, “Normally siblings turn up in Hell as the same demonic species. Take Angel Dust for example. His father and older brother are also spiders, even though they all died at different times. I haven’t seen any siblings who weren’t. Is one of you adopted?”

Mia and Gabriel looked at each other, then they both shrugged.

“Maybe?” Mia said. “It doesn’t matter now, seeing as how we’re in Hell and all.” Gabriel continued.

Going back to his papers, Baxter added, “Well, if you find out, let me know. That information could be useful in my research.” After that, he pointedly ignored them, or mostly Gabriel.

The fish man stood up, officially uninterested in having company. Before he walked away entirely, “I look forward to having you check my work Madam Governess.”

Mia snorted and nodded. “See you around Baxter.”

Gabriel looked at her expectantly and she groaned, turning defensive. “He’s a scientist, not a murderer. Apparently, he keeps up with contemporary mathematics. I find that rather impressive.”

“Have you always been this naïve?”

“Have you always been so cantankerous?”

“I like to think so,” he retorted, tugging playfully on her ear.

“Hey! Those are sensitive!” Mia went to grab one of his fluffy ears. Instead, they ended up playing the famous sibling game of haha-your-arms-are-shorter-than-mine.

Chapter 6: Choices

Chapter Text

Mia
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 326

The next four days went by peacefully enough. One morning she woke up to Gabriel banging on her door for training. His neuroticism didn’t even trust her to wake up on time! Though ... she had attempted to skip the first one. Afterwards was breakfast duty. There were never leftovers. No matter how much she made, they could eat it all. Maybe that was the upside of Hell, no more food waste.

Today, the weather was kind enough for working in the garden.

Weather in Hell was a funny thing. There weren’t seasons, but there were weather forecasts. Sort of. Weather in Hell could only be predicted two or three days at a time which made sense. It added to the whole misery of being dead sinners, she supposed.

Mia enjoyed watching the news because it was hilarious and oddly informative. Also Jeffery Dahmer had his own cooking segment and Adolf Hitler had a Bob Ross-esque follow-along painting series. Mia didn’t condone serial killing or mass genocide, but it was so bizarre that she found herself watching anyway. The station also had shorts about overlords past and present. She’d yet to see one on Alastor though.

The back courtyards and gardens were gorgeous, but rundown. A large patio and marble staircase lead down to sprawling overgrowth, lethal plants, and decrepit structures. She steeled herself for the day of cleaning, chopping, and general manual labor. If she'd been in Boston she would have enlisted help but guests were either in therapy sessions, at work, or just not giving a flying f*ck.

“This is certainly not work suitable for a lady, my dear!” Static pricked her skin and she shivered.

On the grand patio was Alastor, seated at a red parasol-topped tea table that had not been there previously. Mia tied the bag of debris shut before turning to her surprise guest.

“It is certainly suitable work for this lady. Though your comment has been formally submitted with the complaints department.”

A small laugh track sounded from the microphone he propped against his lap. “A clever doe, aren’t you?”

“Of course, if I doe say so myself.” This time he laughed instead. Alastor then snapped his fingers, seating her across from him.

“Perhaps you should rest a spell! Refreshment?” A wave of his hand produced two glasses of lemonade. Mia thought of all the whispers and warnings and news recaps she heard about the Radio Demon. But would he really try to poison her drink for giggles? Was being in his line of sight enough to merit being in danger?

“I assure you it is safe, Sweetheart! I do not take pleasure in a cowardly kill.”

In effort to not offend him she drank the lemonade, presently surprised that it was normal, cold, tart lemonade. “My apologies. It just seems everyone wants to warn newcomers about overlords and the perils of the Radio Demon.”

His clawed hand wiped a nonexistent tear while the other touched his heart. “What a touching sentiment! Decades of hard work paying off! Miss Miller you have warmed my cold dead heart. Say, did you and that mongrel roam the streets long before Charlotte hired you?”

Uh-oh. Of course these kinds of questions were inevitable but it didn’t make her any less wary.

“No. Milton decided to call the hotel as soon as he saw the flyer. I guess it makes sense he’s a dog. My survival instincts compared to his are non-existent.” She grinned nervously at him. Remember the K.I.S.S method. Keep it simple, stupid.

There was a pause in the air. Normally she didn’t feel the need to make conversation where there was none but his gaze made her feel small and on edge. “So … Mister Alastor, what was your first day in Hell like?”

“You are a funny little thing! What must be buzzing around in that head of yours, hmm? No need to be so formal! My arrival in Hell was quite the adventure compared to yours! It was 1933 and I arrived as naked as the day I was born!”

Everyone arrives in Hell naked? How had no one mentioned that? Then again, she was supposed to be dead which meant she was supposed to know that automatically. Alastor regaled her of his day one massacre. Mia was fascinated but appalled.

“34 demons on day one? I don’t think I could take one now, let alone Fat Nugget.” It was true. Other than looking like a demon, she had nothing else going for her. Her brothers either overlooked that detail or did it on purpose. She didn’t know which scenario was worse.

“Indeed! As you young people say, I made it rain! Blood that is. I made it rain the blood of demons for a whole city block! I also learned that some demons taste quite better than others!”

Her face went blank and her head tipped sideways. “Pardon?” The word came out slow and thick with confusion.

“Why yes! I must say your kind, the insect variety, holds no flavor whatsoever! I mean it in no offense, surely. It is just that one cannot argue with simple facts. A few demons of the domestic mammal variety were far tastier and marbled exquisitely. Meat and butchering is one of my beloved hobbies!”

Finally it clicked. “You, um, you’re a cannibal?”

His face contorted. Instead of the sarcastic, jeering drama queen, she saw him as a wicked, sad*stic creature. Eyes sharp on her like a predator, his grin spread wider than before, showing near black gums. There was a sense of pride in his posture suddenly.

Run, stupid.

Her hand gripped the edge of the chair, forcing herself to sit where she was. Running from predators made them chase. They leave when they get bored. She breathed deeply and slowly, not blinking. He didn’t blink either. She sure as f*ck wasn’t going to blink first.

“Of course.” He sounded deeper. It sounded like a threat. Or a promise.

She nodded slowly, forcing a small smile. Her brain needed something quick. “Is it really cannibalism though?” The question was enough to pique his interest and something in his manner shifted back to the casual air of being a casual asshole.

“Please elaborate! I’m interested in what you mean.” Her heart rate started coming back down and her muscles loosened. A small cramp formed in her calf from how hard she’d tightened up.

“Well, unless all demons are a single species, it wouldn’t technically be considered cannibalism. If I’m a dragonfly, I presume, and my brother is a dog, are we technically different species? If we aren’t then is cannibalism actually definable as the eating of other self aware creatures? Then that leads to the consideration of those who may be brain dead. If it isn’t species based, is it consciousness based?”

His head turned to the side with an audible click. She would have laughed but she was still coming down from terrorville.

“A perplexing thought indeed. On Earth it is an easier question since we were the only species of humans left. Your question for Hell though would be no different than sapiens eating neanderthals. Different technically, but the same in mental capacity and in terms of society. Cannibalism is a social construct more than anything.”

This bizarre debate was helping soothe her nerves. “So you believe that as long as you eat someone who can participate in society, then it is considered cannibalism?”

“Of course. We could debate species, genus, families, and orders until Hell freezes over, but it is irrelevant if it doesn't strike the populous with a taboo sense of fear and moral dilemma.”

With that he stood up, checking a pocket watch. “As much as I have enjoyed our meeting of the minds, I must be off! Adieu chére, bon appetit! ” He snapped then faded away into a shadow.

Was he just trying to be funny? The table didn’t disappear with him. In front of her was a bowl of tomato soup, grilled cheese, and a refilled glass of lemonade. She inspected the food. Perfectly vegetarian.

“Oh thank God.” Mia would have lost her mind if she thought she was eating someone else. Taking a bite, the food was fantastic.

Peripherally she noticed a lack of growth in the courtyard. He’d cleaned up the garden too. Below was now a blank, clean canvas for her to work in. Alastor had just saved her two weeks worth of struggle and for that she was grateful. Though, she had forgotten to ask him about the impromptu waltz. This demon was driving her up the wall already and she’d only spoken with him twice.

“Guess he really is bored,” she muttered into the sandwich. Perhaps Gabriel was right about her laying as low as a worm.

---

Across town, Alastor appeared in Cannibal Colony, on his way to a luncheon with some tasteful members of Rosie’s territory. On a wall of posters he noticed the only version released by the hotel. Rainbow doodles and other frilly nonsense littered the page but it lacked one detail: a phone number.

---

The next day during her gardening, Baxter came over. Other than at breakfast or dinner, she’d never seen him out and about.

“Hello.” He seemed much shier suddenly. Maybe he had severe social anxiety.

Mia smiled and pulled herself up from the dirt where she was starting some flowers. “Hey there stranger! I feel like I never see you around.”

He grinned and pointed up to the extremely overcast sky. “Angler fish, I’m quite sensitive to daylight which is why I’m in the basem*nt.”

“Ohhh. That makes sense. Sorry. I don’t really know much about fish, heh. So what do you have there?” Mia was trying to be polite but he just stood there staring at the ground, even fidgeting. She stood up and pointed to the materials in his hands.

“Oh right. I was hoping you could check over some of my work and we could discuss a few things. I find that I learn quicker through discourse but I lack the appropriate company here. Until now that is.” The last sentence was barely a whisper.

She wondered how hard he tried to muster the courage to go up to a new person to strike up a conversation. If he was here for redemption, she wasn’t going to ruin his first brave attempt at making friends.

“Why don’t we talk it over at the bar in doors? Just in case the clouds break and all.” He nodded enthusiastically and they headed for the front desk bar.

Husker, eyeballed the pair suspiciously as they sat down. Without much thought he poured Mia a greyhound but stared at Baxter.

“You ain’t drank here before.”

Baxter’s meek attitude turned defiant and sour, though certainly not shy. “Yet here I am now. Martini, dry. What’s that you're drinking?” He asked Mia in an effort to avoid Husker.

“Grapefruit juice and vodka.” The bar cat slid over Baxter’s drink and picked up his paperback book and rail liquor.

Mia and Baxter spread out the papers and books on the bar counter and fell into a natural rhythm coming up with solutions to various problems. They got so caught up in their work that no one noticed Angel sneaking up behind them. The spider demon got right up over their shoulders. “Ew, what the f*ck is this sh*t ya buncha f*ckin’ nerds?”

Angel pulled the book out of Baxter’s hands and flipped through the pages. “Why ya doin’ this sh*t? I could introduce ya to some drugs or whor*s or somethin’. sh*t Baxter, no wonder we never see ya. I’d be embarrassed too if this was the freaky sh*t I was into.”

Before the seething Baxter could retaliate, Mia stood up on the bar stool and whacked Angel on the back of the head. “Now you listen here you molded over, lasagna sounding cum dumpster! Give that back to him right now and apologize! We were over here working on something that is not any of your business. Maybe if you were more like Baxter you’d know numbers large enough to count your blessings!”

She snapped her arm out and grabbed him by the cheek since she couldn’t find an ear. Scolding him like a child left him dumbfounded and wide eyed. His apology wasn’t coming fast enough for her short temper. “Angel! Apologize! That is if you want to keep eating here.”

Food seemed to be the great motivator at the Hazbin Hotel and she was queen of the kitchen.

Angel pouted like a child and pried his cheek out of her claws. Begrudgingly he handed back the book to Baxter who had already gathered everything else up. “Sorry for taking ya book,” he said looking at the floor. Baxter snatched it away and stormed off towards the basem*nt.

“Angel, I seriously expected better from you.” Her tone reeked with disappointment.

The spider sneered and shrugged, turning from the bar. “Yeah yeah, whatever. I disappointed my ma so ya ain’t nothin’ worth getting’ twisted about.”

Mia called after him. “For two weeks you’re doing dishes with me every morning after breakfast! Otherwise I'll hold your and Nugget’s food hostage indefinitely!” He didn’t say anything or turn around. He just flipped her off and disappeared.

She huffed back onto the bar stool. Husker graciously made her another drink. “Are these always free?”

“Do you really want to know?” He countered.

Mia shook her head and took a sip. “You think after being alive for seventy or more years they’d learn to treat other people with some basic decency.”

“You know you’re in Hell right?” He was right. Why had she expected better of Angel? It wasn’t any of her business but it was that same incessant need. “You believe in this insane sh*t don’t ya?”

“I’m starting to think you have the highest IQ and EQ in the building Husk. You certainly know what I’m thinking.”

He just shrugged and leaned onto the bar counter. “Angel’s a good kid. Just f*cked in the head.”

“I can’t even imagine living through the time periods most of you have. My life was so easy.”

“Time to toughen up kiddo,” he said softly, “Hell’s an exhausting place and you just got here. Believing in this redemption bullsh*t ain’t gonna make it any easier on you either.”

She groaned again and took a deeper drink. Hell was turning her into a functional alcoholic that was for sure. “I know Angel has a good heart, but dumb head. I just … sometimes he looks like a lost kid who grew up way too fast.” Husker raised his bottle in agreement.

To change the subject, Husker asked, “So you good at shufflin’ numbers around?”

Mia raised a white eyebrow at him. “I like to think so. Why?”

“Poker tonight. No buy in. The pot is mixed goods.”

“Who plays? And who deals?”

“It’s normally me, Legs, Al, and Nifty. We got a regular table over at Mimzy’s place. Her guy Jack deals. Every other Thursday evening.”

“I’d be interested but I doubt my brother would like that.” Husk scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“If your brother gets to control your life then you ain’t got no right to bitch at Legs. Mimzy’s is a safe enough place. It’s in Al’s territory so no one f*cks around there unless they wanna join him for dinner. And your brother ain’t invited. Al hates dogs.”

Her spine shivered recollecting their time spent debating the definition of cannibalism. Still that did remind her. “Count me in. You work for Alastor, right?”

“Eh. Sure. Why?”

“He helped me this week with some work out in the courtyards and I just wasn’t sure how to thank him.”

Husk caught a glimpse of her translucent wings jittering slightly. Alastor made tons of people nervous and it seemed she was smart enough to be scared of him. “Al’s big on manners so a simple thank you would be fine.” Something in her face told him she wasn’t satisfied with the answer. “But, Al’s big on good food. Deer meat in particular.”

Her brow furrowed and he chuckled. “Yeah, I thought the same thing when I found out he eats more than other people. But turns out he’s a big snob.”

Hey hey <3
I’m probably going to poker night at Mimzy’s but
need some help with “Milton”. Also, got anything that I could
wear?

ABSOLUTELY!
I have some super duper sparkly
pantsuits and rompers you could wear~
And don’t worry about Uncle!
OOPS ^_____^;;;;
But yes! I can help.

Every time she spoke with Charlie either in person or text, she fell in love with the girl even more. Still, a lot of what Lucifer said made sense concerning her niece. She was bright and optimistic. Fatally so.

Mia had three casseroles and four trays of roasted vegetables in the ovens by the time Charlie rolled down with Vaggie.

“I can’t wait to dress you up! You look so beautiful as a demon! I’m going to make you look so smoking hot!” Her thumbs popped out and she suddenly looked like a film director inspired to make some grandiose flick.

“Of course! I’m yours to do with as you please, your highness!” Mia curtseyed then waved at Vaggie. “Have you been practicing?”

Charlie answered for her girlfriend. “She’s gotten sooooooo much better at chess! She had me so stumped earlier today! Vaggie is such a smart britches!” She poked the grey skinned girl in the cheeks lovingly.

“Yes, I’ve been practicing with Charlie and playing online too. I even won a couple games.” The two girls helped her set out all of the dinner necessities and vowed to clean up in Mia’s stead. Before Cinderella could gamble the night away, the three needed to get her past her wicked brother.

Gabriel was eating his food when three demonesses surrounded him. Mia propped her chin up between his ears and smiled, “Hello darling big brother!”

“Are you enjoying your dinner?” Asked Charlie all too sweetly. Vaggie sat too close, saying nothing but looking like she knew all the secrets to the universe, gaze unblinking, steady, and strong. Gabriel officially felt very trapped and confused.

“Of course. So what can I do for you? I take it the three of you aren’t here to check on my health?” He chewed on a brussel sprout while waiting.

“So some parts of Hell are really safe!” Charlie started, a puppy dog expression already on her face, nose to nose with her uncle. “Alastor is very committed to the hotel and its protection and as an overlord he also sees to keeping his territory safe, which includes safety for everyone from the hotel. Tonight is poker night and we were hoping you’d be willing to let Mia go!”

Clever.

Charlie had left out on purpose how she and Vaggie weren’t actually participating. It seemed she took after her father more than anyone knew. Still, she knew Gabriel wouldn’t give in so easy. Of course she planned on going but she just didn’t want to fight with him anymore, especially when she was going with people from the hotel.

“See, it is perfectly safe! I really really really want to go!” Mia whined, her arms squeezing around his shoulders.

Gabriel stood up, Mia now dangling half a foot off of the floor. “Excuse us girls,” he said, taking his sister into the kitchen for some privacy. He shut them into the pantry and let her finally climb off him.

“Please!” Mia pleaded before he could say anything.

He just shook his head and rubbed his face in frustration. “I thought you understood. I thought you said you would stay here and stay away from him. ”

“I’m asking for permission! I’m an adult woman asking you for permission. If that isn’t me being responsible, I don’t know what is. You’ll know where I am and who I’m with. And I’ll be under the direct protection of one of the most powerful people in the city. I don’t see how I could be any more safe than that!”

A low rumble emanated from his chest. “Mia. It is too dangerous. I can’t make you understand that without you actually getting into serious danger. This isn’t the cabin. This isn’t Boston. We have discussed this already. You will stay here. You don’t even know these people. And they’re murderers and psychopaths. Do you want to be buddies with crazy killers?”

“It beats being alone or being with you all day. Ever since that blue demon broke in you’ve just been a jerk!”

“Excuse me for trying to protect you!”

“I don’t need your protection! I never did! I didn’t know who or what you were until that day!” The emotions on his face changed. She immediately regretted pulling such a low blow as her words must have struck a nerve.

“Do you remember when you got into that car crash when you were 15?”

“Of course I do. What the f*ck does tha-”

“You should have died in that crash. I pulled you out. You weren’t ejected from the windshield. And then when you went to Abigail Cline’s house party at the age of 17. Dalton Michelson put roofies in your drink. I switched the cups. That was why he almost drowned in the pool. At 23 you walked home from the library at 3AM on a Monday morning. The taxi driver who gave you a ride home was me since Gemma didn’t pick you up.”

The blood drained from her face. “You've stalked me since I was 15?”

“I was waiting for you to remember! I found you for the first time in decades in 2001. Do you not remember those records?” Mia recalled how all of her death certificates documented her dying before 25. Gabriel kept her alive a decade past her expiration date.

"Why can't you tell me what happened? Just tell me the truth and we can work this out! I know you don't want me asking but you can't expect all of this ridiculous sh*t from me and not tell me the truth."

"You did this to yourself."

That was confusing. She'd made herself forget? Disappear or what? There was too much she didn't understand. She bit her bottom lip, not up for arguing anymore. “I yield.”

He went to touch her shoulder but she just smacked him off. Taking the message, he said “Thank you for listening. I need you to be safe.” Then he left and shut the pantry door.

Sliding to the floor, she brought her knees up under her chin. Her heart ached, but she didn’t feel like crying. Mostly she was confused and frustrated. She had questions and no answers. And apparently whoever she was before, made this decision for her now. This felt unfair.

Was she her own victim in all of this?

On one hand, being in Hell felt like home compared to the lukewarm biological family and various boarding schools. Was this how every life felt? Just mediocre? Passive? Destined to die early and unfulfilled? Of course, she hadn’t felt that way about her life before. But in comparison, the bizarre days in Hell far outshone some of her fondest memories.

What did that mean?

If she died, then lived, then died, over and over and over again, she wouldn’t have known anything was wrong … Permanently mediocre ignorance. So what if she died while in Hell? An apathetic version of curiosity filled her.

Why not actually commit suicide?

Mia scoffed at her own stupidity. "I'd probably just start the process all over again." Born to another family. Another girl. Another death. Around and around. There was a comedic ring to it. She didn't want to go back to Earth so she would have to avoid dying while in Hell.

Maybe she needed to talk with Lucifer … No. He was very much like Gabriel on not telling her what happened to bind her soul to the mortal plane. She thought about how he purposefully kept Charlie in the dark about the Pagans and new relatives.

Did they see her in the same light? Ill prepared and incapable of handling anything?

It made her angry! This was her life! She wasn’t a child and she was going to learn these secrets. They were her secrets! Then again, allegedly, she'd traded them for ... what exactly?

All she did was confuse herself, flopping back and forth between being ecstatic for getting to know them but absurdly pissed at how they were treating her.

Someone knocked on the door of the pantry. One-two-three-four-five then one-two. She’d heard that knock anywhere and everywhere but didn’t know what it was called. Concerned why someone would knock on a pantry door she opened it up. There stood Alastor, prim and proper with his arms behind his back.

“Dear girl, this is not how cooking was done in my day!”

“Hi.” She said lamely.

He eyed her from head to toe, looking moderately displeased. “Darling this is no way to be dressed for a night on the town! Women are still so keen to keep the men waiting, hmm?”

She carefully stepped around him and out of the pantry. “I’m really sorry if I kept you guys waiting. I’m not going. But I hope you have a good time!”

“Why that is absolute hogwash!”

With a dancer’s expertise he took her hand and spun her under his arm. On the turnout she caught a glimpse of her bare charcoal leg, wearing new t-strap heels. Now he held an oval mirror in both hands. Mia looked at herself and gasped. She inspected her front and back.

She wore a beaded, velvet flapper dress in a peaco*ck motif. Dappled in jewel toned blues, greens, and purples. Outlined with gold and shimmering black. The dress was turtlenecked and backless for her wings, while she wore the satin black dancing shoes and elbow length gloves. Her white hair was waved and pinned to perfection with a headband of peaco*ck feathers.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph...” she whispered to her reflection.

The mirror disappeared. Alastor smirked then bowed, quite pleased with his handy work. “In return for the ensemble, I only request a dance or three from the lady.”

Still stunned she shook his outstretched hand. There was a faint green flash but he didn’t answer when she tried to ask what it was. Instead he forcibly pulled her in close, wrapping her hand into the nook of his elbow. Then he escorted her out of the kitchen like a proper gentleman.

In the lobby waited an atypically clothed Husk, in a simple suit, Angel dolled up in a slinky hot pink gown with black accents, and Nifty who looked absolutely adorable in a baby pink 1950s circle dress. The smaller girl skittered up impossibly fast onto Alastor’s opposite shoulder.

“Oh my gosh! You look so gorgeous! All the colors are so pretty! We thought you weren’t coming! At first I said maybe you’d forgotten but then we decided that your brother locked you away in your room! I made everyone wait for you!”

Mia smiled big and extended her free hand out to Nifty, who grabbed it in solidarity. “Nifty, you’re amazing, did you know that? Thank you so much for waiting on me. I’m really happy you did!”

Her sharp smile grew wide and she flipped her hair with pride. “I really am though!”

Angel weaseled his way into Husker’s arm, “Thank God Al is man enough to handle two dames! That way I can have this puss* cat all to myself!”

Under her arm, Alastor went stiff and Mia stepped away, unsure of what the reaction was. Nifty just stayed on his shoulder, giggling at the flustered spider/cat pairing. Angel’s fingers seductively walked up the front of Husk’s shirt while the two lower arms still clung to his right limb. The cat’s face went strawberry red. “You’re f*cking lucky you look like a broad tonight Legs or I’d beat you off me.”

Angel purred seductively and smushed his cheek to Husker’s. “Ooooh my big strong man! So chivalrous!” Husk grumbled and pulled free and started walking out the door. Mia followed suit with Alastor and Nifty securing the rear.

Chapter 7: Clubbing

Chapter Text

Mia
Mimzy's Club
Next Cleanse: 326

Alastor snapped them to the front of Mimzy’s establishment. Husker, Nifty and Alastor went in the door past a large, dinosaur looking bouncer.

“Hey Angel?” Mia asked before he could follow suit, grabbing one of his lower arms.

“Whatdya want?” He said, not looking at her, pretending to inspect his nails.

“I’m not sorry for standing up for Baxter, but I am sorry if I hurt you in the process. I definitely shouldn’t have called you a cum dumpster. I think you’re better and kinder and smarter than what people give you credit for. But I get it. This is Hell. All that jazz. But you have a good heart and don’t show it. Maybe that’s part of protecting yourself but Baxter was trying to reach out and I just think ruining that for someone isn’t acceptable.”

She shut up for a minute and instead of inspecting his nails, he stared at the ground dejectedly. Mia sighed and started again. “I get that I’m some random ho who thinks she knows better or some dumb sh*t but I believe in Charlie’s dream. And I think you’re worth more than being mean to someone weaker than you.” She took a step to move past him into the building, but he placed both of his right hands on her arm.

“Guess I prolly ought apologize to fish boy for real yeah?” He looked bashful, but maybe hopeful?

“Yeah, but only after we get sh*t faced. How’s that sound?”

“Sugs, don’t bother trying to keep up the pace. Me an’ Husky’ll drink ya under the table!”

“Oh but I can try!” Arm in arm they walked past the bouncer who wolf whistled at them. Angel licked his lips at the big guy and opened his mouth suggestively.

Gatsby didn’t hold a candle to this club’s interior. Thick swaths of velvet, multiple landings and levels overlooking a packed dance floor. A stage wrapping around half the room at the far end. The inside was massive and there had to be at least 200 demons dressed to the nines. Chandeliers. Waiters and waitresses, looking like wealthy dancers.

“I thought this would be some quiet place!” She had to raise her voice for him to hear her. Angel dragged her through one of the archways and up two flights of stairs to a gambling parlor overlooking the stage and dance floor.

A corner booth next to the balcony is where they found their companions. Two other demons hung around. One was a short plump woman dressed like an original flapper with short blonde hair and big dark eyes. The other was a blue flaming demon with his skeleton visible.

“We were startin’ to think you got picked up by a John.”

“Oh Husky baby! You worried about me? Don’t worry, I won’t make you share tonight.” Angel slipped into the booth, almost laying across Husker. The cat bristled and hissed, pushing him off.

“I ain’t interested!”

Poor Husker.

It seemed like the pair was always somewhere between ice cold and almost friendly. It was like watching two kids on the playground experiencing the inklings of emotion for the first time. Novel and clumsy.

All the while Mia felt the stares of the two demons she didn’t know. The small woman did not look pleased or impressed and actually postured herself between Alastor and the empty seat next to him.

“Gams! I saids ya ain’t to bring in them other hussies if ya come here!” Her voice was high. Honestly, she could have been the original Betty Boop with that rhythmic nasally voice.

“Why Mimzy, dear, Angel has done no such thing! This here is a new employee of my business venture, certainly not one of the pro skirts from that disgusting whor* house.” Before Alastor could introduce Mimzy though, she stepped in to do it herself.

“Name’s Mimzy, doll. This is my club. Cause any trouble and ya’s outta here.”

Mia wasn’t sure if this was a friendly or hostile interaction. “It’s a pleasure. This is a beautiful club. You have decadent tastes.” The club owner scoffed and turned back to Alastor with a sweet smile. The flaming skeleton man took her hand and placed a small kiss on the back of it.

“Добрый вечер госпожа. I am Stanislav, though your companions call me Jack. I am the parlor manager.” Mia turned visibly bashful at his politeness but his accent was what made her warm. She smiled at him a bit too much.

“Станислав. Девушка новая. Остыньте.” Husk said in a flawless accent. The flaming demon let go of her hand but winked charmingly and excused himself.

Mia wasn’t exactly sure where to sit a the only real free space was in the middle. Alastor snapped his fingers, placing her in the empty space between him and Nifty who had been watching the dance for the whole time. What freaked her out the most was how he draped an arm across her shoulders, the claws gently scraping her skin.

Wide eyed she looked at him, but he was looking at Mimzy with a sad*stic grin. In turn, Mimzy was looking at her with absolutely murderous intentions. No one else seemed surprised by this, though Angel was snickering and winked at her. Next he waved his phone at her.

Mim’s got it baaaaad 4 Al
Ya bein used 2 run her off
( ˘▽˘)っ RIP MIA

f*ck. She hadn’t come tonight to make some insecure demoness with a crush give in on pursuing Alastor! No wonder he wanted her to come with them. She was starting to learn he did nothing for the sake of kindness.

Seconds later she got another text from Angel. It was a sneaky photo taken of Husker, a bulge tight in his pants. The cat demon absolutely must not have known about it because Angel was still trying to flirt with him and was not twice dead.

Suddenly the phone was out of her hands, thankfully locked, held up by Alastor as if it were a dirty napkin. “It is not polite to use these menacing devices at the table Sweet Girl.” Despite the flowery words he looked and sounded annoyed. He then tucked it into his inner suit pocket.

“Give me my phone back!”

By the time her hand shot out to grab it, it was already gone. His long arm wrapped all the way around her with ease, locking her outstretched wrist in his hand. Due to this, when he turned to look at her, they were practically nose to nose. His teeth looked sharper suddenly. Like he could gnash through her with no effort. Those red eyes made her feel small and compliant. She gulped, brain frozen, cheeks burning hot. Even worse was just how good he smelled. A familiar feeling stirred in her lower stomach.

“You may have it later.” His voice came out slow and even, the same as good scotch. It left a warmth in her, causing her skin to prickle.

She gave a meek and obedient nod. A claw gently traced across her wrist and he whispered, “Good girl.”

He pulled away from her entirely and turned to Mimzy, striking up an animated conversation. Mia’s head swam as she slid closer to Nifty and Husk. The three of them were looking at her. Nifty, bright eyed and giggling, Husk with some mixture of annoyance and pity, and Angel who certainly looked like he was enjoying it far too much.

“Can I get a drink?” She huffed.

Angel slid over a shot of untouched, amber liquid. Then she took another. Thankfully Alastor and Mimzy had left the table. “I thought we were playing poker?”

“We will whenever Jack comes back!” piped up Nifty. “We need more booze!”

She rushed to the bar and brought back a mixture of co*cktails on a tray. The bartender panicked like he had just lost something. Nifty stole them right out from under him. “On the house,” she announced with a thumbs up.

“When in Rome!” Mia grabbed a purplish martini and took a sip. Everyone clinked glasses and if felt like their party finally started. Nifty and Angel took to ganging up on Husker.

Then the lights of the club dimmed and the sounds of revelry quieted. They all looked over to the stage and Husker groaned, “Oh for f*ck’s sake! Not this f*cking goddamn bullsh*t again!”

Husker leaned over the railing as far as he could without flying, shaking his fist, “Not this f*cking sh*t!” He bellowed as Alastor twirled his microphone on stage. Before Husk could wail anymore, Alastor pointed at him. While the cat was certainly still yelling his head off and pointing at the red demon, no sound came from him.

“What’s going on?” Mia asked Nifty.

Nifty chuckled nervously, but Angel was the one who answered. “Smiles thinks he’s the best f*ckin’ comedian in the room. Mimzy let’s him on stage thinkin’ she might get into his pants. I’ve tried and it ain’t happenin’. But the broad ain’t gave up yet.”

Alastor needed no help projecting to the room as he spoke into his staff, “Good evening ladies and gentle demons! Might I say most of you are looking as disgusting as ever! Oh ho ho!” A laugh track played over the audience’s terrified silence.

“How about a round of applause for our gracious, loveliest host, yes? ” On the last word his eyes turned to radio dials, static clipping and whirring throughout the club. It was a promise of demise if the audience didn’t bend to his will. So they did. The roars and wolf-whistles were instant and deafening as a spotlight turned on Mimzy. She was genuinely blushing waving to the crowd, and making sultry eyes at Alastor.

“Before our precious, oh so talented Mimzy can delight us, I took it upon myself to fill in for the opening act! How dreadful to have an accident before a performance! C’est la vie! The show must go on! ”

Then came heavy cheers from the crowd and Mia couldn’t tell if the applause was genuine. Maybe it was honest, if only to not incur Alastor’s wrath.

“So wait … are his jokes bad?”

Angel guffawed, “They’re awful. He’d be better off readin’ the dictionary.” Mia looked around the table to find Husk with his hands on a bottle of top shelf booze and Nifty with a very tropical looking drink. She took a drink too, wondering how drunk everyone needed to be for Alastor's jokes.

“There’s a medical anomaly these days! You can’t have a nose that is 12 inches long. Then it would be a foot! Anyone else interested in biology? There’s a fool proof way to diagnose if you were built upside down! How you ask? You’ll know if your feet smell and your nose runs! ”

Mia choked back a laugh. Dad jokes. No wonder everyone hated him on stage. She on the other hand, was excited. Gabriel was always mortified by her terrible, cringe worthy sense of comedy.

“I was taking a lovely stroll this afternoon. An acquaintance of mine approached asking if he and I could talk. I said, ‘I’m not certain how else this conversation would work!’”

“The fellow asked me to fix an appliance! Despite not being an electrician, I tried! When he used it again, he was shocked by my handy work! ”

He walked around the stage. “I was never much for arithmetic as a boy! I preferred grammar and spelling! Anytime I saw a one I could just add a ‘G’ and it was GONE.”

In the balcony Husker was almost through his bottle, Nifty had actually ran off somewhere, and Angel was taking provocative selfies. Mia had her hands clamped down on her mouth to stop the fit of giggles that threatened to over take her. The demon on the stage seemed much less frightening than the one who had taken her phone. Though it was an act, it didn’t matter. Her shoulders rattled with laughter. Luckily her companions hadn’t taken notice. Their reaction would be scathing if they thought she enjoyed this appallingly hilarious string of jokes.

“I heard a rumor about the butter, but I’m not going to spread it. I heard another one about the ceiling but it would just be over your heads!”

“Ladies and gentle demons! I present to you a treat for our ears and sight for sore eyes: Mimzy! ”

The crowd roared as Mimzy shimmied her way onto the stage and the band sparked to life with loud bopping dance music. At this point she couldn’t hold it back and her howling was much less noticeable with all the noise level so high.

“Oh my god you guys hate that?!” One hand wiped tears from her eyes as the other gripped onto the seat.

“You didn’t!?” Angel proclaimed. “Al’s stuff is …” His voice trailed off which cause Mia to look at him through her fits. Then she turned to see at what he was looking at. Alastor now stood at the end of the table twirling his cane.

“My ‘stuff’ is what Angel? Please continue! No true entertainer is afraid of criticism and critique! We only strive to better ourselves to become greater performers!”

Angel’s smile twisted, his voice purring and low. “Al, I’ll let you entertain me any day. I might even show you a thing or two. I keep my audience engaged.”

Alastor took the microphone and pushed Angel back into his seat. “Five feet my fair fellow! Surely we wouldn’t want you getting hurt.”

Mia did her best to contain her laughing but seeing Alastor after that … it just didn’t feel normal. Of course he rattled her nerves but the comedy set had been so animated and dorky that she actually enjoyed it immensely.

“I must have a new fan! Did you enjoy my comedic stylings?”

Taking in a large breath to answer properly, a large grin exposing her baby like fangs, “Yes. Yes I did. I love dad jokes.” His microphone played fanfare as he took a bow.

“Urgh, don’t tell him that! It’ll go to his head.” Husk stood up, motioning for them to follow.

The poker game only took an hour as Husker and Angel cleaned everyone else out. And the winnings were absolutely bizarre. Some of Nifty’s fanfiction or a custom story, actual money from Alastor, Husker bet his inability to stop cursing and bar drinks, and Angel offered to restrict himself from making lewd comments or a fashion shoot in Nifty’s case. What could she want with Angel in a photo shoot … Actually, that felt like a dangerous question. Going along with the favor system Mia bet her knack for baking.

By the end of the night Angel took the cake, pumping six fists and grinning like a mad man. Money was great, but Mia understood why they kept coming back for this game. Winning meant the losers owed you something and that carried weight in Hell. The group left the room and she was coming up the rear when a blue flamed hand waved her down.

“Are you enjoying this night?” asked Stanislav. It was odd how a flaming, blue skeleton man could exude so much charm and expression, but oh boy did he.

“Best night of my after life. ” He chuckled then stepped in closer. Then another. Her wings scraped the sides of the poker table. Between moving backwards and drinking the whole night, Mia stumbled. Her elbows supported her weight against the velvet table top, wings now splayed out.

His leg moved between hers and the blue filled her peripheral vision. “Falling for me already? At least wait until we f*ck, yes?”

What had she gotten into? Mia found herself angry. She spit at him and rammed her shin into his crotch. There was no telling what he had down there, but it was the same as any other man.

“Противная шлюха!” When she moved to bolt, he grabbed her ankle. She should have hit the floor, but didn’t.

Once again, it was her sad*stic knight in crimson pinstripe.

His mouth was split wider, his frame moderately taller, antlers steadily growing into a tree of daggers, eyes like radio dials. Even though Alastor was in a monstrous shape, he held her gently, his claws not anywhere near harming her. Her ankle was free and she righted herself in her savior’s arm.

“Alastor.” She called out. He didn’t hear her. Unsure of what to do she touched his cheek. The twisted gaze turned on her. It was horrifying but she steeled and smiled at him. “Hey there. I’m ok, see? What about that dance I promised you? ”

As the demonic visage fell away, she removed her hand from his face. His smile returned and he escorted her towards the dance floor without another look back.

Once among the throng of swinging demons, Mia felt like she could breathe easier. Instead of waiting for Alastor, she took his hand and dragged him to the middle. If he liked to dance the least she could do was commit to it wholly for the evening!

Alastor’s stamina for dancing put hers to shame! It took near an hour for the Charleston to finally best Mia. Giddy with the atmosphere she managed to weasel away, unsure if he’d even noticed her leaving. She grabbed a glass of champagne from a waiter and caught her breath.

When had she last danced like that? Taking a sip, she looked around to make sure Stanislav hadn’t come back for round two. Not that he would. Surely facing down the Radio Demon was enough to scare him off? The crazy part was she kind of hoped he’d come back, if only to watch Alastor rip him a new one …

No. You don’t want to go around luring unsuspecting men into the Radio Demon’s claws!

Angel found her at the table.

“Where ya been?” The look in his eyes insinuated something more savory than cutting a rug.

“Dancing!” She looked onto the floor but Alastor was no where to be seen. “What about you?”

He just shrugged, completely ignoring the question. “Wanna head back to the hotel?”

What a daunting thought.

Of course, by now, Gabriel must have noticed her absence. Alastor still had her phone. Oh god the messages … He knew where she would be and could have came after her. The fact she was still in the club and not being toted off to the Morningstar estate permanently had to be a good sign, right?

“Where’s Husk and Nifty?” With one hand, he pointed to a bar way off in the back where Husk was just chilling, talking to some other equally disgruntled demon. Another hand pointed up to where she saw Mimzy and Nifty playing cards, watching the scene below. Nifty saw them and waved exuberantly but Mimzy did not. If looks could kill Mia would be more than dead. Alastor tried using her to dissuade the club owner’s pursuit of him. So not only did Mimzy hate her, so did Stanislav.

“Maybe we should head back. Alastor still has my phone.” Angel had his phone out, texting everyone. “There’s a patio we can wait on.”

Hell’s night air was surprisingly frigid, their breath coming out in foggy huffs.

“Had fun? Glad you went against big brother?” They huddled up next to a heater with more alcohol in hand. Apparently, most bars in Hell didn’t serve water. Go figure.

“He’s going to give me a second death when we get back. God, I’m so f*cking grounded.”

“Grounded? Bitch! What the f*ck actually is stoppin’ ya? What he gonna do? ”

“It’s just how he is. Plus, I have no demonic powers. I can’t fly. I can’t fight. The blue bag of bones forced me onto the table. If it hadn’t been for Alastor- ” Angel’s hands shot up for her to pause.

“Jack tried to force himself on you?” She nodded reluctantly.

“I’mma go f*ck that ugly mothaf*cka! Always heard he’s skeazey, now I’mma let him have it!” Mia anchored Angel down by clinging onto him.

“I don’t think you have to. Alastor came and got me.” This did not impress Angel, who knew Alastor much better than she did. His face turned sober and stern. His voice was calm and even as his hands grabbed hers.

“Listen toots, don’t get any weird or wrong ideas ‘bout Smiles. He probably just toyin’ with ya. He hates ya brother. Stringing ya along and pissin’ off Milton is a big ol’ heapin’ double whammy for him. Kay? Now don’t get me wrong, Al, ain’t the worst in Hell and Jack’s probably gonna get what’s comin’ since ya work for the hotel but he ain’t interested. ”

What the f*ck?

“Oh f*ck no! Ew. Angel, he’s my boss! I’m grateful to him, absolutely but he’s sad*stic, a cannibal, self-serving. He gives me whiplash. Like right now! One minute he’s saving me and the next it feels like I’m his next lunch!”

“Sounds like Al.” Their conversation ended when Nifty and Husker came onto the patio.

“Let’s get goin’,” Husk said letting the three ladies out of the patio gate first. Alastor waited on the street for them under a light. He was wiping off his hands with a handkerchief, blotched with black.

“What an evening! I think it is about time we turn in for the night! What party animals! I’m most certainly tuckered out!” Nifty once more boarded Alastor’s shoulder and in a snap they were back at the hotel. Well she, Husker, and Angel that is. 2:47AM on the grandfather clock and no Gabriel. Not wanting to ruin her look she hightailed it to her bedroom, dreading the impending doom of tomorrow.

With the door locked she pulled off the glamour ring. Her human self looked worn out where her demon self did not. The dress was still just as beautiful. She wondered if it would disappear once she took it off.

---

Mia
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 325

“WHAT THE f*ck?” Mia shouted, jolting upright out of sleep.

At the foot of her bed was her canine brother, looking uncharacteristically calm. His arms were crossed and all of her blankets were piled in the floor.

“God f*cking damnit Gabe what in the f*ck do you want?” The hangover had already started but it wasn’t the worst one she’d experienced.

“Get up.” he calmly demanded. Mia pulled her pillow over her head like a belligerent teenager.

“No. Go away. Let me sleep.”

Suddenly the pillow was gone and the curtains were pulled back. Dawn hadn’t even cracked yet. She looked over at the wall clock. 4:18AM. Why the f*ck was he early AND in her room?

“I take it you had fun last night?” There was the why. “You said you would stay in the hotel.”

“I changed my f*cking mind.” Mia sat up and snarled at him.

“You take the Our Father’s name in vain. You stay out drinking. You curse ten fold what you used to.”

Not this sh*t again. She didn’t want to hear it. So what? “You brought me to Hell. Remember? I specifically said on day one of all of this batsh*t insanity that you don’t need me. If you couldn’t find me, then how could the Pagans? Plus, I’m not an angel anymore. I’m not anything. But you know what?”

She was standing on her bed poking him in the chest, “I’m doing ok here. I kind of like being in Hell. I’m even having lunch with Luci, Lilith, Charlie, and Vaggie. You were invited by the way.”

“We have nothing to do with them.”

“Are you f*cking mental? You tell me all these absolutely absurd things. And I deal with them. I have angelic siblings who are doing who knows what to protect the universe or some other comic book trope! They are my family. They are your family. They are our family. Why can’t we just stop bickering all the f*cking time?”

Their relationship was deteriorating exponentially since arriving to Hell. Of course on Earth it was rocky, but now they were always in some kind of argument over nothing. Over ideas and emotions and thoughts and what could have or what should have. Nothing concrete. It was exhausting and they’d only been in Hell a week.

“Maybe I’m explaining all of this wrong.” He huffed. They sat down on the bed’s edge and he removed his own demon glamour.

“First, being in Hell long term makes me physically ill and irritable. It’s part of Lucifer’s design to keep angels out. And I have no right to tell you your history because I don’t know all of it. My version is biased and unfair to you. It would be disrespectful to tell you because of who you were, can you understand that at least? There’s not a way for me to restore them.”

Mia nodded. At least he was trying to communicate this time instead of shutting her down.

“I won’t confine you to this hotel, but just know, if you die in Hell, I do not know what will happen to you. And I won’t look for you again.” To her, that sounded reasonable but something in his voice broke.

“I’m sorry for whatever I did Gabe. Can you at least tell me if I did the right thing? Was it worth throwing away … everything?”

He didn’t break eye contact with her. His hand landed gently on her hair. “To you? I’m certain you would make the same decision all over again. But to me? It was the stupidest, most careless thing I’ve seen you do. And I’m still angry with you for it.”

At least she had some kind of answer to cling to. “That’s fair. It was still a decision I made so I have to shoulder the consequences. I want to make things right. But forget all that for a second. What about you getting sick?”

“There will be periods of time where I will have to leave Hell to stay with Vassago and report to Heaven.”

“I’ve done a lot to hurt you it seems. Please don’t ruin your health for me. I have Charlie and Luci here. Yeah, Hell is sketchy as f*ck, but I think things are ok here.”

He chuckled and barely bumped her cheek with his fist, “You would.”

Mia laughed too. “I know we aren’t good at seeing eye to eye, but can we at least bury this argument for good?”

He thought long and hard about it. “Only if you promise to avoid the Radio Demon.”

What Angel said last night stuck with her. How Alastor was just toying with her to torment Gabriel and to soothe his own boredom. She’d gotten caught up in the novelty and newness of Hell. Caught up in the way he made her react. It was time to screw her head back on straight. Of course, she still owed him a thank you, but she could leave him a food offering with Husk.

“Other than work, I will absolutely try to avoid him. I mean it this time.” She held out her pinky finger to demonstrate how serious she was. He smiled and they shook on it.

A look of kindness smoothed over his features. With magic he covered her back up and fetched her a glass of water. “Sleep in today. But tomorrow you’re going harder and longer than before.”

Downing the water, her muscles screamed at their impending doom.

Chapter 8: Market

Chapter Text

Mia
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 324

The day after going to Mimzy’s, the Morningstar family ate dinner together. Mia managed to convince Gabriel to come after their heart-to-heart. It went better than expected due to her conversation with Lucifer.

“Luci.”

“What is it Mica?” He escorted them over to a small terrace table, set with tea.

“Have you learned anything about the Pagans?”

His gaze was calculating and probing. “Is it that you’re eager to return to the Mortal Realm?” His words were careful, but twinged with displeasure.

Mia offered him a soft smile. “The opposite actually. I’d like to know if I can get my memories back. Gabriel hasn’t told me about what or why I did what I did, but with the Pagans now … I don’t want to be a liability. Maybe if I could be her again …”

The thought was terrifying.

Who was the mystical woman she was supposed to be? In some alternate universe, she’d resigned herself to living and dying over and over and over. Mia felt weak, useless, and knew how she paled in comparison to everyone around her. Her encounter with Stanislav planted a new seed of doubt and fear in her. She’d never felt so confused or uncertain before. The month in the cabin with Vassago hadn’t messed with her this much, so why was Hell?

“I could give your human memories back, but it won’t be pleasant and you can’t get them all at once. Your body is human, Mica, no matter the status of your soul. Though I imagine your soul is whittled down to mere scraps due to the memoryless rebirths.”

“You can do it?!” Her hands shot out and grabbed his, a puppy’s joy splattered across her face.

Lucifer glanced at her hands and blinked hesitantly. But slowly, his eyes crinkled as his smile grew bright and warm. “Yes, but it will take time to prepare. This will not restore any memories before closing the gate. It will not turn you back into an angel and I doubt you'll be afforded any angel related memories.”

She nodded profusely but asked, “What gate?”

His expression dropped and reminded her of Gabriel’s disappointed one. “It is the reason you were confined to the mortal realm in the first place.”

She bit her lip, face contorting in confusion. It didn’t make any sense right now, but at least it would soon. “Did it help? Did it help you, shutting the gate?”

His laughter filled the room and Lucifer ruffled her hair, a shade warmer than his own. “Yes it did.”

That made her happy but that didn’t explain one thing. “What about the exterminations happening now?”

“I believe the gate's seal weakened when you died 90 some years ago. It was then you became truly mortal. What a fiasco. It would be best for you to remember that on your own. Raphael leads the exterminations now. They only target sinners’ souls, but year after year they send more angels and turn more ruthless.”

“Can’t you stop them?”

He didn’t answer her and only sipped his tea. Mia didn’t press since he’d already given her quadruple the information Gabriel had. Now all she needed to do was wait.

Chapter 9: Kitchen

Chapter Text

Mia
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 323

Today was the staff-only meal, meaning Mia spent extra time in the kitchen. Charlie and Vaggie were working double overtime to expand the hotel and find the few sinners who believed in her cause.

Several of the recipes came from the mysterious polyglot cookbook and each turned out fragrant and divine. Excitement filled her, hoping to soon unravel the mystery behind it. The butcher shop from earlier proved fruitful as she procured the venison for Alastor’s thank you meal. Damn her manners. Thanking him and avoiding him weren’t exactly easy to do at the same time. At least she could leave it with Husker or Nifty.

Small blessings, she supposed.

Nifty set the dining room table at a breakneck speed while Mia hailed everyone from the lobby.

“Hey guys, dinner is ready to go.”

“Oh yayyyyy! I love having family dinners! Thank you for cooking!” Charlie clutched Mia’s arm and skipped them both into the dining room.

“So how was the market? Did you have any issues? I’m so glad Baxter went with you! He’s really been making so much progress since you’ve become friends!” Her excited niece twirled and bounced, peppering her with questions about her market run. Getting a progress update about Baxter was even more exciting.

“I’m really glad I can help make a difference. He’s been great and we are able to get a lot of work done together in his lab.”

Angel snickered and jabbed two elbows in her side. “Toots you’ve been hanging around fish boy’s dangler a lot!”

“Oh come on Angel! We’re friends. Just friends. Could you imagine Baxter getting friendly with a woman to begin with?”

She seemed to be coming to Baxter’s defense more often than not lately. Yes, he was prickly, but he was kind and considerate albeit odd. And he’d dutifully gotten her away from Alastor at the market. The idea of shacking up with him did sound laughable. Despite being near a century older than her, his lack of social skills made him a little brother.

Husk coming into the dining room stole any iota of Angel’s attention.

Vaggie sat to her left and they started to chatter away about the current political climate of Earth. Despite being particularly vague, Vaggie alluded to a dangerous life in Central America before her inevitable, grisly demise. News of the upper world was rare in Hell it seemed as all the details came either late or heavily skewed.

Dinner flew by and everyone filed out, thanking her for the tasty meal. Mia was quite proud of her cooking skills.

“Thanks Nifty!” She called out, but the tiny demoness already zipped out of sight with a frighteningly tall stack of dishes. Upon entering the kitchen, Mia stumbled across the most bizarre scene.

Alastor stood at the sink, jacket removed and red sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The sight fascinated and beguiled her, leaving her seemingly dumbstruck at the door frame.

She’d always been under the impression that his bloody claws and spiked knuckles were apart of a glove, but no. The dark, dusty charcoal skin of his hands faded up his forearms into the same cream grey color of his face. Numerous pale marks littered his skin. Some puckered or stretched while others were long sleek cuts, all with the sheen of scar tissue. But then something flicked in her peripheral vision and a hand clapped up over her mouth to stop the gasp.

A tail?

Small, puffy, red, and black. It flitted and flicked in time with the humming. Red eyes locked in on her and Mia froze to the spot.

Why did it feel like she’d become privvy to something she had no business knowing? His gaze left her feeling vulnerable and chilled, despite that smile. If anything, his broad grin worsened the sensations.

A shadow twisted around her body and magicked her to his side. Now she stood with towel in hand next to the drying rack.

“Idle hands are the Devil’s playground,” he said in a near whisper, handing her a damp plate. Silently she dried as he continued the song. The tune was foreign to her but two bowls and a spatula later she was humming too.

She remembered the cooked venison sat in the fridge, her thank you gift for intervening with Stanislav. Originally she’d wanted to give it to Husk or Nifty to avoid him, but so much for that now. Sooner was better than later she figured.

“Alastor,” she probed, overly focusing on the ladle in hand.

He didn’t look at her but the humming ceased. Nerves rattled through her as she mustered the courage.

“I wanted to say thanks for stepping in with Stanislav at the club. I don’t have any powers so … ” she swallowed hard. The thought of what could have happened was terrifying.

He chuckled. It was a soft, odd noise for Alastor considering how human it sounded. “Your thanks are appreciated, ma jolie proie. I find that men who target weaker beings hold no worth in society and must be handled swiftly! Even more so you are my employee. It would not do to have something of mine harmed.”

Something of his?

Mia’s face twisted curiously and she finally turned to look at him. He was already peering down at her, grinning as if he knew something she didn’t. Was this condescension or just how he operated in general? Flight kicked in over fight and she started laughing nervously. A thudding in her chest became adamant. Was this what self preservation felt like? If only she’d experienced this with the satyr or Stanislav.

“Well, again, ya know, thanks! I-I, uh, Husk said you liked venison! So I made some and put it in the fridge for you. It’s packed up and good to go!” Her tongue felt like a knot suddenly and she couldn’t look away from his face despite how on fire hers felt. Turning away from a predator to run was How-To-Get-Dead 101.

Thankfully, the promise of good food interested him. Alastor opened the fridge and pulled out the crock of tenderloin. He opened it and inhaled deeply. “My this smells delightful!”

His transatlantic tone and lofi crackles were back. Maybe his return to status quo meant she was home free?

“I must say I’m thrilled and cannot wait to devour it!” She noticed that his tail gave a small flick of delight as he excitedly eyed the deer meat. A hand shot up to her mouth but it was too late to contain the giggle.

Alastor’s eyebrow shot up, gaze trailing down to where her eyes went. He growled, low and predatory.

Hadn’t she just gotten out from under his scrutiny!?

His fists balled at his sides, shoulders pulled back. He glared down that sharp nose at with a wide, hungry grin and narrow glowing eyes. Any conscious or subconscious effort to escape failed immediately. Mia, stupidly so, backed herself up against the countertop. Alastor stopped only inches away.

She could feel his body heat. He made the first move, because f*ck it all, she was incapable of it. Everything about her was like stone.

Oh no.

Alastor bent down, razor fangs just centimeters from her ear. Voodoo symbols and faint distortions filled the air around them.

“Did you laugh at my tail, Miss Miller?” f*ck. She was f*cked.

His voice prickled her skin. Her wings shivered. Did he truly think that was what had happened? That she was making fun of him for having a tail? What a tender ego he must have.

An involuntary squeak came out instead of an answer. Where was the answer!?

Her voice and fear betrayed her. This sound wasn’t good enough for him it seemed. One clawed hand gripped her upper arm. The needle like pin pricks of his claws caused icy electricity to shoot down her spine. Alastor growled, deep and throaty. The roomed turned a deeper red and something like a skeleton snake wriggled past.

“Miss Miller,” he demanded.

“I- th-that wa-,” Her stuttering wasn't good enough. Not fast enough. He leaned in even more, her torso pressing into his. It did nothing to help her breathing.

“Ah- Alast-stor, please!” She whimpered.

“I asked you a question.”

Mia couldn’t have prepared for what happened next.

Iced electricity riddled her nerves, mixed with the bizarre sensation of needles on raw flesh. Alastor had taken his free hand and barely raked sharp claws down one of her wings. No one had touched her wings thus far. It wasn’t awful when something dull bumped them, but never had she experienced anything close to this.

“It was cute!” She spluttered out finally. Red faded back into the kitchen and her wings were no longer being trifled with but he didn’t move away. Silence. Had her answer not been good enough?

“I think its cute … L-like your ears, but I wasn’t laughing! It just, uh suits you.” Her head was swimming from the over stimulation, from the fear, and from the sheer embarrassment of having someone, of havinghim, bodied up to her in a public place! This was different than the times they’d danced. And in those situations, she wasn’t even close to the receiving end of his anger.

When he stepped back, the light headedness and weakness in her legs finally caught up. Mia slid to the kitchen floor grateful to find his thinly veiled rage gone. Now his eyes were mirthful and amused, complimenting his lopsided grin and haughty stance.

“I look forward to tasting this, ma jolie proie.” With that, he melted into a shadow and now she was alone in the kitchen, barely catching her breath.

———

Alastor materialized in his office, more than entertained for the evening. Perhaps even for the week!

He’d magicked the crock of venison to his personal kitchen at home where Nifty would deal with it. Currently he was only interested in his real treat. Small beads of red blood tipped his claws and he smiled wickedly. Greedily he licked at the garnet liquid and groaned, his power roaring with exuberance, his taste buds dancing in delight.

This also confirmed his suspicions of Miss Mia Miller being human. While there were now more questions than answers, Alastor was excited to have a new game to play with an interesting and unique toy.

———

Once the kitchen was tidy enough, Mia bolted back to her room. Just as the door thudded shut and she locked it, she ripped off the glamour ring. It was a sweet relief to no longer have wings as she slumped into the arm chair next to the window. Mia pulled a blanket tight over her shivering frame. Her nerves were a right mess. Fear and anxiety consumed every neuron available except for one. One that left an unwelcome, outlandish, beguiling feeling in her gut.

That demon gave her whiplash. Over his own damn tail too!

Embarrassment won amongst the cacophony of raging emotions. His thin frame was negligible when he was pressed against her so tightly. Tighter than when they'd danced. And then he touched her wings. Mia didn’t think much of them on a daily basis. A loose hoodie worked well to keep them out of the way most days but now she'd be on high alert. A slight pinch on her upper arm alerted her to small dots already start to scab over.

He'd cut her?

“What a f*cking maniac!”

That was it.

Last straw.

No more hanging around Alastor!

Before she’d done the minimum of just being polite and staying busy. But now she needed to actively avoid him. Loosing such a good dancing partner was a small, insignificant price to pay for her sanity. Looking out the window into the dark Hellscape reminded her of him. That wouldn’t do. She jumped up, pulled all the curtains closed, then proceeded to make a thick, heavy nest in her bed.

Even in her makeshift fort, she felt unsettled. She could come to terms with the embarrassment, fear, anxiety, anger, and outright confusion of the whole scenario but … Nope. Mia noped that very strange and unwelcome down sensation into the recesses of her mind and used the rest of her evening like any other sane millennial: dicking around on the internet.

Chapter 10: Hugs

Chapter Text

Mia
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 317

“So how’s the recruitment going?”

Charlie perked up and gathered a small batch of folders. She spread them on the couch next to her aunt and bounced excitedly. The two were drinking tea and gabbing in the main office. Most were retellings of her niece’s younger years and school days.

“These are for patrons AND staff! I found a really good one too!” Mia had a doodle-clad folder shoved in her face.

Bubble letters spelled out ‘Antti Paarsnen - Psychologist???’. Inside was a recently taken photo. The man was rather ordinary seeming, nothing was odd other than the fact he was most definitely a chameleon. Instead of being reptile colored, he wore splotches of red, yellow, green, and purple of varying shades. The Earthly credentials listed weren’t so shabby either.

“We were hoping you could help us review them?” Charlie asked sweetly, a double sized grin stretched across her face.

“Of course! That’s why I’m here. His credentials look great. He just died?” Mia pointed at the two day past arrival date. “Poaching new comers seems like a great idea actually.”

Charlie fiddled with her hands, “Doesn’t it seem a bit unethical? Shouldn’t people come of their own accord?”

Oh what an innocent and kind person she was. Mia wondered just how well Charlie could inherit the duties of Hell.

“I think this could work. Humans are creatures of habit. For better or worse, once they fall into a routine it will be hard to break. And for Hell … Honestly I don’t see people giving up on their vices so easily. I think some easy pickings is what the angel ordered.” They both grinned like maniacs at the pun and giggled wildly. Afterwards Charlie showed her more candidate files. Most of them were clients who could offer things like lessons or some type of training. Anything to keep the hotel guests preoccupied.

“Hey Auntie.”

Mia couldn’t get Charlie to use her name in private so she’d given up. She seemed too happy to have more family and blatantly ignored any requests to let it go. “What’s up sweet girl?”

Charlie inched over and snuggled up next to her aunt. “I - I was wondering why you and Uncle decided to help us now … especially after so many years of the exterminations.”

Questions like this were ultimately unavoidable. Mia combed her claws gently through the thick blonde hair and smiled.

“I’m sorry it took so long. Even angels don’t have as much power as we’d like,” which was something Gabriel had told her technically. Sadly, all she could do was lie. And while they were sweet and kind lies based around truth, they were still lies. Was she really protecting Charlie by hiding the truth?

It didn’t matter. Today wasn’t the day to find out.

“You’re the reason Charlie. That brave heart and kind soul brought us here. The ‘why’s aren’t so important anymore but this project is. I believe this can work.”

“Dad doesn’t …”

“He doesn’t, but he doesn’t need to. Even if you both don’t agree on this, him willing to let you try … I think that says a lot for Luci. Just don’t ever forget that no matter what, you are the most important thing in his world.”

Afterwards Mia was pulled into a rib crushing hug by the stronger, more enthusiastic girl … but it was well worth it. Oxygen be damned. Kind words were enough to reinvigorate the princess to the point she started brainstorming across a whiteboard.

Mia left Charlie to her Heaven-bound madness the moment glitter was introduced.

——-

Angel
p*rn Studios
Next Cleanse: 317

It was good that Cherri agreed to keep Fat Nuggets for a while.

“Aye Angel!” A horse demon clad in latex bondage gear was toweling off her hooves waved him down. “Mister Valentino asked me to send you in.”

If it was his first week at p*rn Studios, he would have walked into Val’s office quivering and terrified. Now that was only how he felt on the inside. Angel winked at horse girl, “Thanks babe!”

For Valentino to call him into his office meant that Angel wasn’t going to enjoy the conversation. It’d been over two months since taking shelter at the not-so-Happy-choke-on-a-dick hotel. Charlie’s fiasco musical on the news was where Angel’s newest troubles began. When it became common knowledge that Angel had checked into the looney bin, Val’s reputation had taken a hit. Something about making him look bad or looking like, as the Overlord pimp put it the first time, p*rnStudios isn’t the most glamorous, sex filled, debauched, party driven high life it was cracked up to be.

It was a sh*t gig actually.

At the time Angel convinced him it was to explore playing a more pure character to do more acting and story line p*rn films. Sweet school girl get swept away to become co*ck hungry co*ke queen snorting dick lines. That pitch was filmed a week later and became one of Angel’s top sellers. Plus it saved him a heap of money.

So what did Val want now?

Angel opened the pink leopard velvet doors and hot pink smoke rolled out around his feet. Valentino stood up from his whor* laden couch and wrapped his upper arm around Angel’s shoulders. The lower arm gave him a sharp smack on the ass. Angel forcibly giggled and made some non committal lewd comment as he was escorted into Val’s office. Once the door shut the thrum of bass and drugged hussies disappeared.

“Thanks for inviting me over Val,” Angel said with a purr. Valentino lit a cigar and pointed to a chair. Immediately Angel sat, waiting in silence.

“Angie cakes, this whole redemption angle, I’ve been thinkin’ you’s onto somethin’.” One of Valentino’s most notable talents was manipulation of the senses. Thankfully Angel had some immunity to it from sheer exposure. Most of the time he didn’t use it because the towering moth demon pimp was a sad*st and didn’t need to. He savored the mental torture, emotional pain, absolute despair, hopelessness, and complete control he could make others feel.

“Vox and Velvet ran some numbers. You’re gonna start getting chummy with that charity project. Gettin’ high, starting’ fights, not full on f*ckin’ people, these ugly bastards gotta pay for the goods, but ya know, drum up some hype. I’m thinking maybe bring in some girls, do a whole amateur or hidden camera series. You definitely got us a golden opportunity, Sweet Cheeks.”

Nausea settled hard in Angel’s stomach. This was new and a bizarre request for Val.

“I dunno Val,” Angel laughed nervously, “They’s a buncha sticks in the mud, real straight edge. They’s hitting that peace pipe hard.”

Valentino grinned, “Don’t worry Angie, Daddy’s got it all figured out. They won’t know what hit ‘em. All you gotta do is follow their little plan for a few weeks and start gettin’ cozy with a few of ‘em. Make some friends … You’ve always been good at makin’ friends.”

Thick pink haze filled the room. The headiness from Val’s smoke, his power to manipulate people with it, made Angel complacent. It made him want a hit every time he inhaled too.

A long purple finger beckoned him over while the other hand wiggled a tiny clear bag.

Angel was breathing heavy and started to feel the tell tale crave. His thoughts became one track and all he could focus on was that damn tiny bag.

“Angel,” Valentino purred, pointing to the floor.

His body slid down, knees first to the ground. Slowly, expertly, Angel teased off his jacket. Long limbs slinked over to the desk that the moth pimp now stood next too. As the heady smoke filled the room and the drug filled Angel’s senses, he became nothing but the pet Valentino prized so much. The top bread winner. Best bitch on a co*ked up leash. A contracted, powerless slu*t.

———

Angel stumbled back to the hotel in the pre-dawn morning. With being so high for so long, he put in a lot of extra hours. Took some of the higher paying gigs since they wouldn’t hurt through the drugs. Val had definitely given him giant hits of good sh*t. His demonic body was already starting to heal up, thankfully. Films of the more volatile nature left the workers banged up, literally and figuratively.

Not paying attention, still coming down, and being thoroughly exhausted Angel accidentally let the front slam shut. It made him jump. Sometimes the coming down made him skittish. He wrapped his arms tight against his body, watching one foot move across the floor.

“Angel,” a gruff voiced called out.

Once again, the spider jumped. It was a small blessing that the lobby was two stories because Angel could clear a ten foot jump if he really tried. The landing was far from elegant. His long limbs were normally graceful but now he felt like one of those baby giraffes on a documentary he’d watched once.

Dark fuzz filled his shifty gaze. Husk pulled him back up to standing, but Angel was wobbly at best.

“Guess you took a hard ride.”

One hand guided an upper arm across furry shoulders, while one thick cat arm wrapped under Angel’s lower limbs. Instead of being grateful, Angel gasped. Still suffering through wooziness, he leaned into Husker, looking up with absolute seriousness. “You’s taller than me?!”

It was rare for the bar cat to not be hunched over, curled up, or sitting. No one ever witnessed him at full height.

“Christ f*ck would you shut up? You’re gonna wake the whole damn building and I don’t need Vaggie down here pitchin’ a f*ckin’ fit. Shut it and I’ll get you a drink.”

Angel promptly quieted down. He was too nervous to properly harass and flirt with Husk. The cat demon deposited Angel on the couch nearest the bar and grabbed his favorite ‘Cheap Booze’ and a glass of something clear and stringent. When he tried to hand over the glass, Husk noticed how the liquid trembled.

He let out a heavy sigh and sat his bottle on the floor. Angel giggled nervously, “Seems like I’m havin’ a fun time, eh?”

“Ya look like sh*t kid.” Husker’s hand supported Angel’s to help take a drink.

Angel coughed and hacked at the first sip, but before Husk could interject, he took the liquid in one gulp.

“Husky that sh*t burns.”

“Don’t be a puss*, Legs.” Husk grabbed his bottle and sat a space away from Angel. Other than the spider’s heavy breathing and the swigging of booze, it was silent. Angel’s breath became quick and shallow, hands gripping the edge of the couch, eyes screwed shut. This comedown wasn’t the worst by far, but it was more mentally taxing than usual.

There was no way for him to turn down Val’s new plan …

What did it matter though? All these goody goodies running around trying to save sinners’ souls?

What a loada bullsh*t! Maybe that’ll teach ‘em what’s what! Can't not pay the price when ya dead ...

A dark storm of berating, senseless thoughts were eating him alive. Two arms twisted in his white hair while the other two were starting to puncture the couch.

“Aye!” Husk hissed grabbing Angel's shoulder, “Snap out of it Legs.”

There wasn’t a response, other than a small whimper. “Damn it, Angel.”

Husk could never know what was bothering Angel exactly, but the end result was all the same. Being an empath was a sh*t thing. Husker hated any emotions because he felt them too much. He felt them involuntarily for others. It made him do things that weren’t in his self interest and that ultimately left him miserable. Not that he wasn’t miserable any other day of the week but doing it to himself was way better than letting someone else. Today though, he broke protocol. Letting Angel have a mental breakdown and panic attack in the hotel lobby was sure to be a pain in the ass.

That’s what he told himself, at least.

Two fuzzy arms wrapped around Angel, pulling him in tight. Husker tucked the fluffy white head under his chin and closed his wings around them. A low purr vibrated through him.

Before he got shipped off to war, Husker had taken care of cats on a daily basis and was a veterinarian. He’d always thought highly of cats: cute, aloof, self-sufficient. Purring was meant to comfort and soothe, even heal. He’d seen plenty of cats curl up to the ill and purr the day away, hopelessly doing what they could.

Hopeless f*cking cats.

This lasted only a little while thankfully. Angel’s whimpers died down and the rocking stopped. His hands twisted into Husk’s fur and the bruised face nestled above the white of his chest. Finally, Angel was asleep. The booze had the spider out cold.

Husk gathered Angel up into his arms and wings. It was sheer luck that no one encountered the two. Yet another small blessing it seemed and Husker was grateful.

He wasn’t a weak demon by any means but any type of magic he could do was limited. The easiest was being able to hide and procure things at will. This made keeping the building’s keys that much easier … and hiding cards in a game. Once inside the disastrously messy, pink room Husk gently tucked Angel into bed. Before leaving he left some medicine and a glass of water on the nightstand.

Before returning to the bar, Husk left a note in the kitchen for the breakfast lady:

Room 69 - Breakfast Delivery 10AM

Chapter 11: Welles

Chapter Text

Mia
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 311

Mia made her way from the back courtyard and gardens to the basem*nt level of the hotel where Baxter was allocated a room and extra space for his experiments. She had learned that Baxter’s participation in the saving sinners project hinged on having lab space, a set of funding from Charlie, and to be left alone most of the time.

Mentally consumed by equations, she opened his door. “Bax, I have some thoughts on that- uh, what are you doing?”

The angler fish was ghostly pale from head to toe, crumpled on the floor and writhing in unconscious pain. Mia dropped to her knees and grabbed his shoulders.

“Baxter! Come on, you gotta snap out of this! f*ck.” What the f*ck had he done!?

She glanced around the room, looking for a sign. Anything to figure out what had happened. She noticed a blue-green smoke pooling in the floor and slowly her throat burned. Baxter started coughing up black blood. “Hold on Bax!”

Despite being a lanky bastard, his body was larger and heavier than expected. She’d need to thank Gabriel later for the training. It would kill her to admit it, but her daily and rigorous ass-beating was coming in handy.

It didn’t take long to drag him out and down the hall, but maybe that was just the adrenaline talking.

No one else occupied the basem*nt level, and she needed to put out whatever that horrific fume was. Mia pulled her t-shirt up and doubled it over her mouth and nose. Once inside his room, she slammed the door shut and grabbed a blanket from his bed. The fog was dense enough that she took far too long to find the concoction, but thankfully, she did.

Mia wrapped the beaker up in the blanket to smother it and then raced to the bathroom. She turned the shower on cold and let the water work its magic. It seemed to help, and that had to be good enough for now. At least the smoking stopped.

Back in the hallway she started hacking too, blood dappling her fume tainted shirt. Baxter’s breathing eased, but his body still gave small shakes. Mia grappled with a lanky arm and fumbled him into the elevator.

Once on the first floor she tried to drag him back out but couldn’t, her head and sinuses throbbing. Unceremoniously, she flopped his leg out to keep the elevator open and rushed down the hall.

“Husk! Help!” She hacked, pointing in the elevator’s direction, tripping over herself into the lobby. Husk was the only trained medic in the building and, hopefully, could help.

At the bar were Alastor and Husk, staring at her now.

“The f*ck, Wings?” Husker exclaimed, pouncing over the bar like a cat. He pulled her to a stool, forcing her to sit. He noticed the blood on her shirt and went to look near the elevator before she could answer. It was only a second later that he came back with the unconscious Baxter.

“I found him coughing up blood on his floor. There’s some fume down there.” Mia slumped onto the bar top while he started checking Baxter out on the couch.

“All taken care of!” Alastor exclaimed, his shadow solidifying on the stool next to her.

He’d been there when she first entered the lobby … Hadn’t he? Her confused expression caused him to wink at her and smile. “Once you came up in that state,” he pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at the blood around her mouth, “I made sure our resident mad scientist didn’t burn the hotel down! That would be terrible for business, don’t you agree?”

She heard a snap, then felt the weight of a glass in her hand. The liquid was clear and scentless.

“Water, dear.”

Mia raised the glass at him. “Thanks.”

“You are quite welcome, sweetheart!” Mia ignored the fact he seemed proud of himself for giving her water.

“Now say, what were you doing in that dank laboratory with Baxter, hmm?”

“We’re friends. We have stuff in common.” She said vaguely. On purpose. People in the hotel were nosy and loved knowing the sins of others. Mia did her best to avoid those conversations, and she didn’t want rumors cropping up about her and the one friend she could talk shop with.

“Such as?” He questioned. Alastor was asking gently, not using his normally abrasive probing.

“Science. He’s kept up with scientific discoveries and research methods up top. I just help with the math.”

“Quite the scholar you must be! I never had the innate talent for arithmetic! My closest encounter with the subject was when I reported on that German fellow, Albert Einstein.”

That got her full attention, avoiding the cannibal maniac be damned. “Oh! For real?! That must have been amazing!”

“Certainly it was a distraction from the lynchings and murders! My first year as a radio personality was in 1924.” At this point, her long elven ears were all his. Thankfully, the adverse side effects of the smoke wore off and in her excitement, she'd forgotten all about poor Baxter. Their conversation became entirely one-sided, but Alastor reveled in the adoration of his profession. This kind of attention and admiration was scarce in Hell.

He mentioned so many historical events that her head was dizzy all over again.

“Did you ever meet any of these people?”

He laughed in conjunction with his staff. “Absolutely not, my dear! The radio station’s owner would have been mortified if a poor colored boy openly admitted to being his famous, hidden host.”

Mia’s face visibly darkened. She smiled at him with a hint of sympathy. “I guess a lot of people just assume you were white?” And she was officially guilty of that too.

Alastor raised an eyebrow at her. “On the nose again,” he said, a claw gently flicking her own nose. She giggled at the gesture. “I rose above my station in life. I was paid more than any other mulatto or negro in the area by far, but I was under a strict gag order for several years.” In an overly animated gesture, he mocked being gagged. Deflection via humor.

Mutely, she nodded. Here she was from the modern day, a social justice millennial, and she had just made the same ignorant mistake as everyone else. Guilt twisted in her stomach, wondering just what kind of bigotry he must have faced. Especially during the KKK eras. An idea shot through her head. Mia took out her phone and typed away furiously. Once she found what she was looking for, she leaned over and showed him the image of a smiling black man in a navy suit.

“This is Barack Obama. 44th President of the United States of America. A lot of institutionalized racism exists, but things are changing. Slowly but surely, I like to think. Though my account of racial equality in the country isn’t exactly valid. I was white.” Some part of her wanted to apologize for being born a white woman, but she figured that would be cringe, unhelpful, and probably rude.

Mia grimaced. He just didn’t seem impressed. There was no reaction at all. A purely slate faced Alastor. She thought maybe it would be cool for him to know that, but now she just felt goofy and dumb. As she went to pull back the phone, he slipped it out of her hand. Her mouth fell open, but she froze. Watching Alastor hold a smartphone was an oxymoron by nature. The device rested in his open palms, obvious that he didn’t know how to hold it, still gazing at the screen.

“Would you like to see other things?” she asked in a hushed tone. He looked like he was thinking about it.

Mia looked to the couch, noticing Husk and Baxter gone. They were the only ones in the lobby. With a snap, they were in his office, sitting on a couch in front of a fireplace.

“So ... Anything specific?”

“No, no! Just something you think I might find entertaining.” His voice had a slight menacing edge mixed with his usual cheer.

This suddenly felt like a game, but one she had no chance of winning. Mia audibly gulped, and his smile broadened. God help her naivety. Her racial guilt seemed misplaced whilst remembering how he trapped her against the kitchen counter.

Entertain the maniac, then get out.

First, this would be the last time she offered to be nice to him or try to cheer him up. Second, she had the perfect thing to show him.

Here she was trying to be friendly, and he wanted to turn it into some kind of challenge. Instead of backing down, Mia saddled up to his side with her own broad grin. Ever so slightly, he pulled back, but she feigned ignorance.

“This is a radio broadcast from 1938 by Orson Welles. It’s a bit long, if you have the time.” Alastor produced hot coffee, two cups, cream, and sugar on the table in front of them. He didn’t answer, but gestured for her to have some. Mia poured two cups, then started fixing one for herself.

“Black, Chèr.” The small polite gesture wasn’t something he had expected but appreciated, nonetheless.

Mia beat her curiosity down. No matter what that his flowery words meant, she wasn’t going to ask. Posing questions to Alastor made for a dangerous game and she didn't need to play another with him. Coffee now in hand, she pressed play on the audio file. They settled into silence as a deep voice and radio static surrounded them.

As the broadcast ended, Alastor stood up and clapped, his staff coming with its own cheers.

“Now that was absolutely a treat, my dear! Well done!” Mia smiled, swelling with pride and smugness. She’d won this round, perhaps.

“I’m glad you liked it. Science fiction is my favorite genre, and this broadcast is pretty famous. At the time, some people believed it to be real, not just a Halloween hoax. It’s pretty funny considering H.G. Wells published the original story ‘War of the Worlds’ in 1898. This is an adaptation from an unrelated man called Orson Welles. It took me forever to figure out they hadn’t been the same guy.”

He just sat with an amused grin, eyeing her mirthfully. “You’re certainly the well-educated sort.”

Mia just shrugged, looking smug all the while. “I do my best, I suppose.”

“And what were you doing before death?”

“Finishing my doctorate.”

“Then why commit suicide?”

Mia was momentarily confused. f*ck. The moment she saw his cat-who-ate-the-canary grin, she realized she’d messed up. If she had actually died of a double suicide overdose while working at a nursing home, then she would have been a nurse, not a Ph. D student.

Oh, f*ck me.

“I worked at the nursing home part time! Needed the money and my brother roped me into his scheme. Bad judgement and all that, ya know? Heh. Stupid kids!” The words came out quick and unconvincing. Surely he wasn’t so well versed with modern day schooling that he couldn’t believe she had been doing both, right? Mia hopped up with a nervous smile and sped over to the door.

“Time to get started on dinner! Great talking with you Alastor!” She slammed the door behind her and sped away to the kitchen. Hopefully nothing would come of this snafu. Though her luck normally dictated otherwise.

———

Baxter
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 310

Baxter groaned, cleaning up his failed experiment. As of late he had taken to mixing science and magic, though the inability to conjure anything otherworldly irritated him greatly. Most of the time he concocted formulas for demon effective medicine and drugs which he sold anonymously to black market brokers in exchange for his more interesting ingredients.

He allowed no one in his room or lab, so the cleaning was always his duty. Well, he let Mia in. Only this morning had he woken up, groggy and hateful from inhaling too much of the fumes.

In his bathtub was the sad, now broken beaker with a now blue stained blanket. “Heh, quite clever,” he muttered, discarding of the ruined materials. She thought quick on her feet, putting it out with the shower. A powerful intellect, sweet voice, charming face …

She consumed his thoughts lately. Baxter thought himself a gentleman. Perhaps not the most suave, but certainly the most loyal and intelligent. Between his headboard and wall he kept a jacket she’d accidentally left in his room and never asked for. The outerwear itself was unremarkable, but it smelled like her. Some part of him wondered if she had left it for him on purpose. Women often confused Baxter, though his older brother had told him about their beguiling ways long ago.

His mobile phone chimed, reminding him of his first counseling appointment. Since his room and board hinged upon his participation with the new therapist, Baxter made his way to the third floor office.

“Good day Doctor,” he said with a polite nod. The bug eyed, reptilian man stood up with a warm smile, shaking Baxter’s hand enthusiastically. To be polite, Baxter exchanged another nicety, but cringed at the bizarre moisture on the therapist's hand. He wiped at his lab coat, sitting down on the couch across from what was obviously the Dr.’s chair.

“Baxter, thank you for coming! I appreciate your being on time. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Antti Paarsnen. Whenalive, I served as the medical director of an inpatient treatment facility. I’m 57, Finnish, and I apologize for the dampness on my hand. I use quite a bit of lotion! This skin dries quite a bit.”

Internally he groaned. What a chatty man. While chatty women were to be expected, perhaps enjoyed, it was so unsightly for a man, especially a seasoned professional.

“Of course Dr. Paarsnen.”

“Why don’t we jump on in hmm? I heard you had quite a scare yesterday! Can you tell me about that?”

With that Baxter proceeded to tell the doctor about his experiment, as much as he could without involving any good faith, and how the fumes got to him. The rant was detailed and technical, the angler demon boring the man with measurements and scale weights, beaker types, effectiveness rates, mixing solutions, the works! Anything to move the appointment along.

“And what happened after your unfortunate exposure?”

How odd … Baxter felt pleasant in this office actually. This man seemed warm and inviting, the grandfather clock hanging directly behind the chameleon man, soothing in its metronome.

“Mia put herself at risk to pull me out and extinguish the fumes,” he reminisced with a small smile.

“Is she a house cleaner? How did she find you?”

“We spend quite a bit of time together. It’s always agreeable. Comfortable. She let herself in.”

“So you’re just friends with Mia?”

Were they?

“I’m not sure. We’re always alone. She come’s to my room on occasion. Leaving her things there …” One thing but who was counting?

Did she do all of this on purpose? While she was a modern woman, to spend so much time, so scantily clad with a man, to be alone and help with his experiments? Baxter couldn’t imagine how scandalous this would have been when he was alive … surely she must have been seeking a courtship with him this whole time?

“Baxter, it sounds like you might have feelings for this woman.”

Was this how it felt to be sought after by a beautiful woman? This warm, floating feeling? He didn’t answer the doctor’s question, absorbed in his haze of grey skinned, winged beauty.

Dr. Paarsnen grinned and waved a hand in front of Baxter’s face. No reaction. It was lovely when plans came together.

For his first session he decided to start with the weakest of the flock, and after a week of observing and learning about the residents from the chatterbox princess and her griping girlfriend, the angler fish demon seemed to be the most suggestible of the bunch. Anti social, cantankerous, and most certainly out of touch on modern relationship standards.

“Baxter. I want you to listen with the clock. Feel the ticks and tocks move through you like a wave.” The lanky blue demon started to sway, eyes barely opened and rolled back.

“Baxter,” he started again with thick honeyed words, “she’s in love with you. You remember how women are, they have to be directed and told what to do. If you don’t take her for yourself, how else will her feelings be known for you? You remember how things are, women aren’t supposed to throw themselves at men so she keeps giving you every opportunity. Why else would she spend so much time alone, away from everyone else, for hours, just with you?”

“In love … with me.”

“It must be very hard for her, you ignoring her feelings like that? Yes?”

“She’s waited so long.”

“Your sweet Mia.”

“My sweet Mia …”

“Baxter, when I snap my fingers, you’ll leave our session and go back to your room, alone. All you’ll remember is a kind, annoying, talkative doctor that you wanted nothing to do with.”

“What an annoying doctor …” he slurred. The chameleon man snapped his fingers. Baxter stood up straight, clear-eyed.

“Well Doctor, as fun as this is, I must be going.”

“Of course, today was just getting to know each other! Your work sounds very interesting. Have a goo-” The door slammed, leaving Antti in his office alone. When closing his agreement with the princess, he'd asked his office to be warded from any magic. Charlotte had done it herself, thankfully, and now no one could snoop in or eavesdrop on his sessions.

He pulled out his phone to make a call. It was answered on the first ring. “I’ve found a perfect test subject, my lord. I’m sure his feeble mind will cause all sorts of mayhem, starting with this poor, stupid girl. I think a few months' time, given we play slow and increase our numbers as planned, everything will be as He commands it.”

The voice on the other end merely thanked the doctor, saying he’d pass along the good news. Today was only a small step for their cause, but an important one in destroying their enemies.

Chapter 12: Alley

Chapter Text

Mia
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 305

Mia realized she was missing some garden vegetables for today’s breakfast. She’d forgotten to pick them from out front yesterday. The hotel’s silence had distracted her.

For the past few days it felt like the hotel was semi deserted. Vaggie and Charlie were busy and rightfully so. Gabriel was still gone. Angel was missing in action more often than not. Avoiding Alastor was going better than expected since their foray into science fiction. That left Baxter. Going on four days in a row, she’d knocked on his door but there was never an answer.

She’d only last seen him during his lab accident.

Had it embarrassed him?

Embarrassment wasn’t a word she associated with her fishy friend but anything was possible. Was he angry with her? Maybe he was trying to recreate the concoction. He was particularly obsessive like that. Still … she felt torn between respecting his privacy and taking a sledgehammer to his door.

For now, her more immediate issue was breakfast. Mia grabbed a basket to load up with Hell tomatoes. They were tomatoes for all she could tell or taste, but they came in strange and fantastical shapes which always made them fun to pick.

A thunk and noise akin to mechanical backfiring sounded off down the hotel’s driveway, pulling her away from a spiraling vegetable. At the end of the lane was a bulbous contraption.Something halfway between a spaceship and a blimp. A few sections coughed up smoked and others rattled. A large snake man with several round monsters now headed up the drive.

“Good morning and welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!” She greeted once he was within earshot.

The black and yellow snake man gave her an odd look then conferred with a slip of paper from his breast pocket.

“Good morning Madam,” he said politely, taking off his hat with one hand then shaking with his other.

“It’s pretty early for new arrivals, I’m afraid. Most of the staff is still in bed.” Mia watched as the small round demons putted about like a gaggle of goofy kids. Several of them stacked on one another, some waving at her, others calling out for their ‘Boss Man’.

“Oh no dear! I am not here to check into this esstablishment. An assssociate of mine residesss here and I’ve come to call upon him! It seems he hasss no intentions of answering my callsss!”

The man talked in such an animated and excited fashion that Mia couldn’t help but smile and giggle. Thankfully he was too preoccupied with managing his round demons to notice. “Well we only welcome guests who are keen on behaving themselves so, if you can keep out of trouble, I’d be more than happy to serve you breakfast while you wait.”

Honestly, she didn’t feel threatened by him. His composure, relative to all the other demons she’d met, was … lacking. Even Nifty maintained a more menacing air than this one did.

At her offer he smiled joyously, swiftly taking the heavy tomato basket from her, puffing out his chest. “It certainly won’t do to have the this manor’sss missstress doing the manual labor! How absssurd!”

The peanut gallery clucked in agreement. Two of them came up to compliment her politely while another asked to hold her hand in a sweet, childlike way. As she took ‘#37’s hand, she couldn’t hold it back anymore, laughing and patting the snake on the shoulder. His ridiculous pinstripe suit and stereotyping of women reminded her of a few people. “By they way you talk and dress I assume you’re looking for Alastor or Baxter?”

The snake man’s face drained of color as his went wide eyed, hissing like a maniac, hands gripping at the sky. Thankfully the small ones caught her tomatoes. “THAT ISSS WHY I RECOGNIZE THIS ESSSTABLISHMENT! That unhinged Radio Demon residessss here as well, does he not?! Oh I will make csssertain to demolish him after I sssseek Baxter’s help!”

“Uhmmm, well … He’s one of the three owners but I would be greatly appreciative if you try to demolish him far, far away from the property. The hotel is owned by the Princess of Hell after all. I’d imagine that wouldn’t do you any favors, upsetting the King of Hell and all. Terrible manners really.”

As she lead him into the kitchen, he tapped on his chin, truly thinking about what she’d just said, “Yess, I mossst certainly sssee your point. It would not do to terrorize this residence and upssset the monarchy.”

The man removed his jacket and hat, then tied back his long demonic hair, “Where might you keep your apronsss Madam?”

“Oh no! Please, you’re a guest! I’d much prefer you keep an eye on your … ?”

“Hen-chmen!” He added with zest. “They will be of no trouble, I asssssure you! Boysss! Formation 76-alpha!”

The round demons stacked on top of each other from floor to ceiling, like a pole, perfectly organized and out of the way. Mia nodded, genuinely impressed, but not sure what to make of formation 76-alpha. What circ*mstances required such a specific maneuver? Could she even call this a maneuver?

“Well that works for me. Aprons are on the pantry door.”

He shuffled through them and excitedly hissed when he found Charlie’s: a baby pink one with sewn on patches of rainbows and all things sugary. Mia set the serpent man to chopping while she handled the actual cooking. “So you’re friends with Baxter?”

“Oh yes! We’re jolly good matesss from our living days! My most shining pupils from Oxford! As a boy he wasss quite the budding genius and I took him asss a perssonal assisstant! He helped me at the World Fair on several occasions. I was shocked and overjoyed to find him amongssst sinners!”

Mia’s brain did double time in nerd mode. She’d never been a history buff, but where feats of science were concerned, nothing else could compete with for her attention. Time flew by as he told her all about his heavy contribution to the industrial revolution. She wasn’t much of a gear head but this type of first hand knowledge was gold and his flavor of story telling made it so much more enjoyable.

“I headlined in Barcssselona, Parisss, Prague, Chicago and Brusselss! Though Brusssssels is where I died of consumption. Paris wassss by far the most exssquisite oh the Exsshibitions! I find myself conssiderably lucky to have landed in Hell, to meet minds I could only dream of and to meet more I may have never known!”

“So you don’t have any regrets from when you were alive?” The idea seemed so counterintuitive but Hell probably was an immortal paradise for the more ambitious of souls. No morals, no boundaries, great minds from every point in existence …

“Oh pish posh Madam! Not a one! Yessss, a hand full or two died in a few tessstsssss gone wrong, but that is the price of improvement!”

Eventually several pans of shakshuka, toast, and fruit were ready. “Do your boys want to help set the dining room?” She asked, still under the impression that they were essentially bizarre children to the snake man.

“Boyssss!” He screeched. They filed up, eager and happy to take orders. And in record time she had everything set out.

“Let me tell everyone who’s waiting that breakfast is ready, but otherwise, please feel free to help yourselves. Afterwards I’ll show you down to Baxter’s room. And, please, absolutely no havoc, bad behavior, or any fights or lack of self control, please?” Mia gave him a sheepish smile and held out her pinky finger to him. She had a slight feeling this innocent, yet juvenile tactic would work wonders.

And it most certainly did. He squealed softly, almost like a school girl and wrapped his semi scaled pinky around hers.

Out in the lobby waited Husk, Nifty, Charlie, Vaggie, three of the newer guests, and the new psychologist. “Breakfast is ready. I hope you guys like shakshuka. Also, we have some guests.”

Vaggie and Charlie looked at each other with concern and mad dashed for the dining room. “You let in Sir Pentious?!”

“Oh, I guess I never did get his name. But yeah. He was here super early this morning. He’s a friend of Baxter’s. I thought we allowed visitors?”

Vaggie groaned, eyeing him with a snarl.

Mia stepped in front of her with a big smile. “He’s been great all morning Vaggie! Helped me with breakfast and promised excellent behavior. And look at him!” She said, pointing to the man who was wiping the face of a round demon while another two sat in his lap. All the while Nifty chatted him up excitedly. The prospect of a fresh man was a top tier concern for the tiny cyclops.

Charlie grabbed Mia’s arm, grinning at Vaggie with a hopeful, excited look. “Look Vaggie! Maybe even one day he could be a cliiiiient! He’s been in the building for hours now and nothing has happened except good food! This is great! We’re spreading kindness!” Charlie lit up like a Christmas tree, eager to get her breakfast and sit with Sir Pentious. Probably to butter him up about her project.

“Just because it worked out once, doesn’t mean you can let random demons into the hotel, no matter who you are.”

Right. She was supposed to be the all powerful, hot sh*t angel Michael. She really hated that perception. Fat Nuggets was even out of her league in terms of demonic powers. “But isn’t that the point of a hotel?”

“He once tried to blow up the building, Mia.”

“Oh sh*t. My bad. Heh. Ooooops.”

Vaggie’s seemingly permanent exhaustion morphed into a warm smile while looking over at the excited Charlie. “I’m glad it worked out. I guess if he’s here to visit Baxter that isn’t so bad.”

“Have you seen or heard from Baxter?”

“No, I was hoping you had. Normally we try to have everyone check in with us once a week to do a room walk through. Baxter’s normally on time with it just to get us to leave him alone and hide his sh*t.”

“I’ll check on him when I take Serpenthisss? Sirpenthouse? Sirewhatthef*ckwashisname?”

Vaggie cracked a loud laugh as Mia exaggerated the hissing, “His name is Sir Pentious. He has a nasty habit of getting in territory feuds with Angel’s friend, Cherri. I’m just glad Angel and Alastor aren’t here.”

“Hey Mia.”

The peculiar tone caught Mia’s attention the most. Vaggie pointed at the plate with an awkward grin, “You know, I would expect this kind of joke from anyone else, but not you.”

Mia stared at the food, looking for any issues. “What is it?!”

“Sir Pentious’ henchmen are called Egg Boys. They’re egg demons.”

Her jaw went slack, staring at the breakfast food in a new light, a pretty white and yellow egg in a sea of tomato stew stared back up at her. “But … ” She stammered, pointing at the egg boys in horror, “They’re eating it …”

At the same time, Nifty harrumphed and clamored up between Mia and Vaggie. “What’s wrong amiga?”

A sneer of disappointment crossed her face, angrily stabbing a whole apple, “He likes men!”

“Did he tell you that?” Mia asked, looking back and forth, completely unable to see where Nifty got that information.

She groaned, rolling her eye, “I can tell, duh.”

———

Mia walked Sir Pentious down to Baxter’s room after breakfast. All of the Eggboys were sent back to the ship at Vaggie’s request.

“This is it. I hope he answers for you. I like to think I’m good friends with Baxter, but I can’t seem to get a hold of him.”

The snake demon knocked on the door in an unfamiliar rhythm, then spouted off some sort of nonsense riddle. Much to her surprise and horror, the door clicked then opened a few inches. It was dark so she couldn’t see Baxter, but Sir Pentious thanked her and went into the room with no issues. Once the door shut, her mouth dropped to the floor, angry now. He’d been ignoring her?!

It took a minute before she could move, furious with her friend. Of course he was entitled to his privacy. Sure. But also, what the actual f*ck? He was avoiding her.

There wasn’t anything she could do right now. Breakfast would need cleaned up and she had plenty to do in the garden before dinner. The thought of having this confused, hurt, angry feeling consume her was already exhausting. Mia tried to be reasonable and not entirely nosy, but she always ended up in other people’s business.

And as predicted, it ate at her all day. What she did. What she could have done. What she didn’t do. Was he upset with her? Why would he be? Weren’t they friends? Had she embarrassed him? Did it piss him off that she’d drowned his experiment? The thought roulette consumed her well into the evening.

Finally all was quiet so she took off to Baxter’s room, determined to figured out what was going on.

Before she could even knock on the door, it opened to reveal an exhausted looking Baxter. “sh*t. Bax, are you alright?”

Immediately she tried to hug him. With how miserable he looked, she forgot her anger, “Have you been sick this whole time?! Why didn’t you say anything? Baxter … ?”

He avoided her with a low grumble. He didn’t even look at her. “Let’s get out of here Mia.”

There wasn’t any room for argument or agreement as he made way for the hotel’s back exit. She followed, nervous for him. “Hey maybe we should get you a doctor, you really don’t look well.”

Another grumble. “I just want to get a drink in a place that isn’t this hotel.”

Mia grimaced, unsure of what to do. She wasn’t supposed to leave the property without permission, especially at night. But something about him seemed so miserable and she had missed him terribly. It didn’t matter. She’d deal with the consequences if anyone found out. Baxter was her best friend in Hell and all he wanted to do was grab a drink. There were plenty of bars in Pride so they could probably find one less than a block away. “Sure. Just not too far okay? It’s pretty late.”

He lead the way in silence. Thankfully their part of the city wasn’t as overly populated, but there were still enough demons out that it could have easily been daylight.

“Bax,” she called out, grabbing his arm.

He flinched under her touch and only looking in the direction she was pointing, “How about there?”

The alley across the street hosted a bar sign where large windows showed the interior. It seemed as safe a place as any given the circ*mstances. Baxter grabbed her hand, dragging her across the street and towards the alleyway entrance. Mia’s heart sank to her stomach once they passed the bar’s door, his grip tighter.

“Baxter! What the f*ck are you doing? You’re acting creepy!” For the first time all evening he turned to look at her. God he really did look awful. Skin sickly, eyes almost glazed over, his breathing heavy. Her free hand moved to his, trying to pry it off her wrist. She wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt but panic started setting in.

“Are you sick? What’s going on? Let’s go back to the hotel and get you a doctor!”

He grabbed her free hand with the same force and pinned them against her waist. Mia tried jerking back away from him but it was in vain. It seemed so obvious to her that he was sick. “Do you feel dizzy? I can get us a cab back and the-”

“SHUT UP.” He barked out in a tone she hadn’t known him capable of.

“Why must you torment me? I’ve been so blind, but I understand why you can’t say anything or do anything about your feelings for me. I thought perhaps, just maybe, you would move on. But no, you came back every day.“

Her mouth hung open, rendered speechless by the strange sentiment, “What, no, Baxter, it isn’t anything like that! We’re friends! Only friends.”

“Yes you have to say that! To protect your virtue! I understand. You’ve been waiting for me to initiate so you can maintain innocence in the face of your brother. Otherwise they’d disparage you as a corner girl!”

“No! No! Baxter! Listen to me!”

“Mia I know you love me. Don’t worry, let me take the blame and we can be together.”

His grip on her wrists tightened and he pulled her into him. He bent down, breathing in her hair, muttering more antiquated bullsh*t about her so fragile virtue.

He consolidated her wrists to one hand then firmly grabbed the back of her neck, claws wrapping around, digging into her flesh. With fresh, icy panic in her veins, she writhed against him. Were all demons inhumanly strong no matter their stature? The hand on her neck almost had her off the ground.

She hoped demons had testicl*s.

Her leg swung back, then crashed in between his. An ungodly hiss filled the alleyway and somewhere someone wolf whistled at them, cheering. Instead of letting her go, he threw her sideways into a mixture of trash and old metal.

Something cut her, but she was free. Mia rolled out of the trash and sprang up. Above them people were looking out of windows, cheering Baxter on. Pulling out an angelic weapon in public wouldn’t do her any favors. Instead she picked up a jagged pipe and thrust.

Another hiss filled the alley, followed by more whoops and even some boos. There wasn’t enough room for her to best him in a fight. She was sure Baxter was no trained fighter but one good whack from him could send her sailing.

As the pipe stuck out of his side, she turned and sprinted back to the hotel.

Chapter 13: French

Chapter Text

Mia
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 304

Once in the lobby, she collapsed against the door, heaving and trembling. There was stinging around her neck, but her thigh thoroughly burned. Mia bit down on her fist to hold back her voice in an effort to not be noticed. It was in vain, as someone already had. The lobby clock chimed midnight as a grinning, blue eyed, blue mouthed shadow knelt down.

A smoky black hand extended out towards her, the face now smiling pleasantly. “Alastor?” she croaked out, eyeing it suspiciously.

The figure shook his head, then made a thinking face. His free hand formed, then twisted back and forth in a ’so-so’ gesture. Black fingers stretched out further, slow and steady, until it grazed her thigh. Mia yelped with a hiss, still eyeing the dark figure.

In the air it traced, ‘FIX YOU PLEASE?’

Mia went to stand up, shaky, determined to walk back to her room. The shade panicked. His hands waved, eyes and mouth down cast with worry. “It’s not that bad, Alastor. I’m going to my room.”

As she slowly walked forward, the shade floated in front of her. ’NOT ALASTOR. ALASTOR BOSS. AM MILES.’

Ignoring the shade, she probed a finger into the wound to see how deep the gash was. More than an inch of her finger went in, explaining why she was having such difficulty walking. Just perfect.

On one hand, being indebted to the radio demon wasn’t something she was interested in. On the other hand, if anyone found out she’d left the hotel, been assaulted, and came back beat up, she’d be spending the rest of her Hell days in Lucifer’s manor or in her room, locked up with magic.

Finally she agreed, slumping back onto the floor, trying to catch her breath all over again. “Alright Miles. Fix please.”

His bright smile widened, and with a familiar flourish, he bowed. Shadows wisped up around her and a second later she was on a familiar couch. Alastor’s office. Thankfully though, the radio demon wasn’t in attendance.

“So now what, Miles?” His head tipped to the side with a sheepish look, making a stitching motion. Mia jabbed a finger in his direction. “No Miles! No! Unless you’re a doctor, that’s a big no.”

He bounced with his arms crossed. “Is there something wrong?” she probed, almost regretting the question.

’NOT HEALING FAST’

Of course. Miles expected her to be a demon. To heal in fast and miraculous ways. No matter her glamour, she was still human, and something like this could take months to heal properly without medical attention.

“I don’t have demon powers, so maybe I don’t heal like normal either. What about magic? Can you do that for me?”

Miles shook his head. ’NOT MY MAGIC.’

Mia groaned, head thumping back down onto the couch cushion. What she didn’t need was that red asshat poking around. She was bloody, and he was a cannibal. Being hunted by pagans was one thing, but being Alastor’s snack was another.

“Will he eat me?” Miles shrugged with a sympathetic expression. ‘MAYBE.’

Just like that, another wisp of darkness curled up, forming into a solid. Alastor grumbled, rubbing his eyes with a finger and thumb, “Miles! I expressly forbade you from waking me!”

The demon’s half-asleep countenance was yet another strange thing she’d never expected from him. Mia’s stupidity alerted him to her presence before poor Miles got the chance. “You sleep?!”

The words came out a bit louder than intended. He whipped around while Miles came to help her sit up. “I’m ok Miles. You’re very sweet.”

Alastor’s smile was forced and certainly annoyed by her presence. “Miles, what the f*ck is this?”

“You curse?!” Her tone was more hushed, but twice as exaggerated. To think he was a human under that showman’s visage. Miles knelt next to her on the floor, pointing at the gash on her leg that was bleeding onto his couch. Good thing it blended in with the crimson.

He groaned, kneeling down in front of her as well. It was then she noticed him in pajamas. They weren’t even close to what she had expected. Instead of something red or silken to match his grandiose personality, he wore a cream and yellow flannel set with a dark blue, fluffy robe. It was just so normal.

Mia yelped, but before a louder noise could come out, Alastor’s free hand clapped over her mouth. Beyond his hand, she saw a claw probing the wound. And he was far from gentle about it.

“As suspected,” he said. In a snap, she was sitting in an unknown parlor. The room was dark except for an unhelpfully dim, lone lamp next to a full book shelf. Across the room, Alastor was rummaging through a cabinet.

She also recognized they were alone. “Where did Miles go?”

He emitted a low growl while sitting next to her on the couch. “If you ask me another question, you insolent brat, I will make you my next supper. Are we clear?”

Her face grew hot, nodding. Sleepy people were terrifying and the most unpredictable in her eyes. He shoved a small blue bottle in her face. “Drink it all. Now.”

There was no hesitation as Mia downed it. The concoction was bitter and gritty. He laid a hand on her thigh, which sent a wave of panic through her, but she stopped herself from overreacting. His hand glowed. Then her stomach grew uncomfortably hot, but her leg went frigid cold. The entire process was uncomfortable and stung, but the pain wasn’t terrible. Minutes later, he removed his hand and her tissue was stitched back together.

“What happened?” he demanded, leaning back onto the couch, eyes closed.

“I, uh … “ It felt weird to tell him what happened because she really didn’t want to admit it to herself. “Just ran into some bad company, you know? Hell, woman, all that nonsense.”

“You left the hotel alone?” His tone was suspicious. While she never left the hotel except to go to the market, accompanied at that, did it seem that suspicious?

“Mhmm …” she half-heartedly agreed.

“What an abhorrent liar you are, Miss Miller. If you aren’t keen on telling me the truth, that’s quite alright. Though, I suspect you’ve accepted my good will instead of Charlotte’s or Vagatha’s, to keep a secret. This is your last chance.”

His tone was harsh and direct. Guilt flooded through her because, without any deal or knowing what had happened, he helped her in an instant. She started wringing her fists. The emotions hit her next. Anger. Frustration. Fear. Confusion. Tears stung her eyes, and she dropped her head to hide under the white hair.

“I didn’t go alone. I went with Baxter. He’s been acting strange. He looked so sick. He wanted to go get a drink and after his accident, I hadn’t seen him since!”

The pace of her words kicked up, matching the racing of her heart. “I didn’t understand until he grabbed me. It wasn’t like with Stanislav! I trusted Baxter! We were friends … We were supposed to be friends -hic ”

Her voice finally cracked, and a single sob escaped. She stopped the second by clamping both hands over her mouth, screwing her eyes shut. A hand landed on her head, stroking softly. That was the only move he made. Mia didn’t want to sob and lose composure in front of him.

“Did he hurt you?” While his voice was soft, she could hear some amount of strain in it. “Si ce vilain poisson a profité de toi, je lui ferai une collation pour les goélands de l'enfer.”

The angry French made her feel a bit better, even if she didn’t know what he meant. Mia shook her head furiously, dispelling any idea that Baxter got farther than pushing her around.

“Ma chère, il ne faut pas se fier aux apparences,” he muttered, petting her hair like a child. If he was trying to be patronizing, she didn’t mind it because there was some safety in this dark room with the grumpy monster. After some span of time, she gained enough composure to say, “I don’t speak French Alastor.”

“Ha. Cela me plaît.”

“Thanks … again. I’m sorry. Really sorry for waking you up. I’ll make it up to you.” She glanced over at him, inspecting just how dark the shadows under his eyes were. “Insomnia?”

He didn’t bother to sit up, but looked at her. “Can you sing?”

Mia turned towards him, brow knitted in confusion. According to Luci, all angels were phenomenal singers. It came with being an impeccable, physically wondrous angel which explained why Charlie was so talented. As a human, though, she could sing well enough. “I guess. I mean, it runs in the family.”

His mouth split into an exhausted grin, and he stretched out a hand of green swirling light. “I’ve helped you, now will you help me?”

“Do what?”

“Sleep. The only thing you’re agreeing to is keeping my sleeping habits a secret.” Mia grabbed his hand with no hesitation. If all he needed was her silence, everything else would be easy enough. Once she let go of his hand, they were in a different room, one as she recognized as a modestly redecorated hotel room. Alastor sat on the bed, reclining against several pillows, eyes closed.

Before she could jump to unsavory conclusions, he explained, “I only sleep once every ten days or so, given how much magic I use. With the hotel I use quite a bit more. Otherwise I’m a textbook insomniac! No sleep for the wicked, as they say! Usually I can play records, and it helps, but an actual person helps the most, it seems.”

“So, like lullabies?” She questioned, trying her best not to look curious.

Alastor either didn't notice her constrained expression, or he didn't care. “As long as it isn’t mindless garbage, I’m not so picky. Though if you’re unable to indulge me, I’d suggest you leave.”

He was a cantankerous old man, indeed. “Yes, I know a few things that aren’t hot garbage. I’m not going to sit here and give you a rendition of WAP or the Holidae Inn.”

Alastor made an absolutely irritated noise. Mia sighed, then dragged over an armchair. “I used to do a lot of theater during my K-12, so I know a few French songs. I just don’t know what they mean.”

He said nothing, and she pushed down any embarrassment or awkwardness for the situation. They’d been dance partners. He’d saved her ass twice, and wasn’t really too terrible outside of his nasty habit trying to torment people. So she began.

En haut de la rue St-Vincent
Un poète et une inconnue
S'aimèrent l'espace d'un instant
Mais il ne l'a jamais revue

Mia loved the French song, even though she’d only learnt of it from the Moulin Rouge musical. But here the original seemed more appropriate. She closed her eyes, continuing on.

Cette chanson il composa
Espérant que son inconnue
Un matin d'printemps l'entendra
Quelque part au coin d'une rue

It made her think of the memories she regained. They were barely patch work thus far, but languages like Russian and Spanish started coming back to her. Some part of her hoped French would come soon, just to understand all of Alastor’s odd, whimsical statements.

La lune trop blême
Pose un diadème
Sur tes cheveux roux
La lune trop rousse
De gloire éclabousse
Ton jupon plein d'trous
La lune trop pâle
Caresse l'opale
De tes yeux blasés
Princesse de la rue
Soit la bienvenue
Dans mon cœur blessé
Les escaliers de la butte sont durs aux miséreux
Les ailes des moulins protègent les amoureux

Mia sang, imagining her fingers moving over the piano keys. Later, she’d most certainly make time to sit with the piano, if only to pour out her grief to it. Somewhere toward the end she heard his breathing deepen and saw that his head now lolled off to the side. It was only fair to keep going until he was in a deeper sleep. She sang through another four songs for good measure. Miles floated up to the other side of the bed with a smile and a thumbs up.

‘ASLEEP GOOD. ESCORT YOU BACK?’

She gave Alastor a once over.

His firetruck hair was flopped about and then an ear flicked with a deep breath. If she was a worse person, she’d take a picture just to have proof of how unassuming he could look. Mia held up a finger to Miles.

From how bundled up his pajamas were, she imagined he got cold pretty easily. She took the blankets and drew them up under his chin. Looking at Miles, she made a motion, mimicking the act of putting a needle on a record and it spinning.

A gramophone now occupied the unused dresser, a woman softly crooning away. Mia followed Miles to her room, dying to sleep.

‘GOODNIGHT.’

“Thank you Miles, if it wasn’t for you I’d be in a world of hurt.” She reached out her arms to him with a big smile. He instantly jumped off the wall to bear hug her. She didn’t understand how the shadow could be so much more agreeable than the master, but it was refreshing to meet someone, something, nice and polite.

Chapter 14: Thinking

Chapter Text

Mia
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 301

Rumors filled the hotel about Baxter’s mysterious disappearance. Sometimes people would ask her if she’d heard from him, seen it coming, was anything wrong … the usual.

Mia stuck to her story: after the accident, she hadn’t seen him and made a point to say how worried she was. That wasn’t untrue. He had seemed so sick, but maybe she was making excuses. She racked her mind, wondering if she had led him on. He was so old fashioned-

No.

Mia smacked her own cheeks hard. No matter what, who, how, when, or why, she did not ask to be assaulted.

Today was the bi-weekly staff meeting. Without Gabriel that left Nifty, Husker, Charlie, Vaggie, Alastor, and the new Dr. Antti stuffed into the main office. Charlie sat at the desk which Vaggie perched on, while Husk stood in the window, barely paying attention and swigging booze. Nifty was bouncing about dusting, despite the room already being impeccable and was probably clean enough for hospital patients. Antti stood next to Charlie, leafing through folders.

That left Mia sitting in one of the two armchairs in front of Charlie, Alastor occupying the other.

Nothing was said between them since his brief tenure as her nurse and her stint as his canary. She also hadn’t seen Miles, either. Between Baxter nearly maiming her and Gabriel’s extended, unannounced absence, she felt a little down trodden to not see that eccentric blue smile.

All of that being said, Alastor also played along to their tune of secrets. “So no one has seen or heard from Baxter?” Vaggie pressed again.

Every head in attendance shook ’no’. “Al, were you able to locate him?”

His microphone played a cartoonish ’mwap muaaah’ as he shook his head in mock despair. “I’m afraid not, my darling belle! Wherever our fishy constituent is, it seems he may not wish to be found.”

Despite knowing it bothered Charlie to lose a patron with no explanation, Mia only felt deep-seated relief. Suddenly the entire hotel was a free for all. She could meander and work with no issues.

She noticed the psychiatrist shaking his head, looking saddened. “I’m so sorry, my princess. I should have been more thorough with him. Maybe if I would have learnt something …”

Charlie flashed the chameleon man her famous gigawatt smile and laid a sympathetic hand on his arm. “Doctor, you’re a valued team member here and we face struggles together. There was nothing you could have done and I appreciate you helping us.”

The man nodded, patting Charlie’s hand. “Princess, you give us all hope.”

Alastor’s microphone played the sounds of an encore as he stood up, clapping as well. “Good doctor, what kind words you have for our dear Charlotte! Why yes, she is the shining beacon of Hell! Princess of the Damned! My good sir, I’m afraid we’ve yet to make our acquaintances! The name is Alastor!”

Antti reached his hand out towards Alastor, but the red demon swung his arms wide, magic flaring to life. His microphone floated in front of the doctor’s face and started speaking, “Yes, yes, good sir, tell us where you’re from! You’ve got to introduce yourself! Engage with the audience!”

The chameleon pulled nervously at his shirt collar and fiddled with his cardigan sleeves. “Well, alright then.”

The doctor told everyone his name, home country, credentials, and that he hopes to help make a difference in the project.

“And how did you die?” Alastor’s eyes were narrowed, his smile menacing.

“Ah that,” said Antti with a twinge of regret. “It is an unfortunate, sad story and I’m still grieving the incident. You’ll have to excuse me, but it isn’t something I’m keen to speak on just yet. ”

“Aaaaaal!” Charlie called out, her smile tight, “I’m sure you can get to know Antti plenty later since we’re all working together! For now, I’d like to give everyone an appraisal of new guests entering the hotel and distribute some new hotel policy guide books!”

Charlie clapped once and suddenly everyone was holding a three-ring binder stating ‘Hazbin Hotel Staff: Policies, Guidelines, Rules, and other snippets on how to successfully help redeem sinners!’.

Each binder was a different color, with doodles of all their faces and rainbows and cupcakes. Mia smile at the arts and crafts nature, opening it to start reading through.

“We will take SERIOUS suggestions to the policies.” Vaggie announced, giving warning glances to Husk and Alastor.

Nifty scuttled up onto Alastor’s shoulder to view the handout, not phased by Vaggie’s dismissal. “What does it say about cleaning?!”

Charlie winked, “You do such a great job that if you ever feel the need to write it down, we’d love to have it!”

It was like a birthday gift for Nifty, getting that kind of praise for her manic, obsessive compulsive, borderline homicidal cleaning methods. After the Hazbin typical shenanigans and announcement of having another welcome dinner for the guests, everyone was dismissed.

Mia walked out last, leaving Vaggie, Charlie, and Dr. Antti to have their own meeting. A red coat tail fluttered around the corner and out of sight. There was a nagging feeling in her head. It had grown since they'd talked that night. Mia felt the need to thank him again, but that went against every one of her self interests. Against any kind of intelligence and common sense. Becoming buddies with Alastor was like asking for trouble on one side and then a scolding on the other.

She forced herself down the opposite direction of the hall. Perhaps he’d only been protecting his self interests in helping her. The cooking would never get done if she could barely walk for weeks, so that was probably the beginning and end to his logic. That had to be it. Nonsensical thoughts be damned to what or where ever was worse than Hell.

Out in the garden she moved through the motions, practicing her weapon skills with a broomstick. Maybe Gabriel was right to be so strict with her before. With all the uncertainty, she needed to stay on top of practicing. She needed to survive Hell. This realm and its inhabitants were dangerous and out of her league. But only for now, and she had a plan.

———

Alastor
Cannibal Colony
Next Cleanse: 301

Alastor had certainly sent his shades to find the miserable ocean brat, but as he said earlier, there was no sign of Baxter. Given what had happened with the hotel’s pretend-demon, it was for the best. Of course, there was no true interest in protecting the girl … again, but it was his business and his employee. Thus his reputation.

Simple, really. Nothing to analyze in the slightest. And she offered quite a bit of entertainment for him, whether she knew it or not.

The bell above Rosie’s Emporium tinkled, alerting the shop boy, Akram, to his presence. “Oh Master Alastor, welcome back! The madam is in her atelier. Shall I let her know you’re here, Sir?”

The orca demon was perhaps one of the youngest in Hell. Mortal souls younger than 17 were rare indeed. Akram had appeared five years ago at the age of 14. Alastor had found him cowering like a cat in a dumpster with five fresh demon carcasses. It was so impressive and beautiful that it genuinely touched his cold, dead heart. If only he’d been blessed with children so talented.

Akram most certainly looked like a child, except for being several inches taller than Alastor. With a snap, a bag of treats appeared on the counter. Some of Alastor’s favorites. Akram caught the smell immediately and opened the bag, salivating. Before anything could be said, the young boy wrapped his arms around the radio demon, thanking him profusely.

It took every iota of his existence not to smear the child across the floor, but alas, he did not. His soft spot was for children. Thankfully, the lack of them in Hell made life much easier.

“Akram,” came a melodic, warning voice from the stairway. Now instead of profusely thanking Alastor, he was apologizing.

“Come now, Rosie, he’s but a young lad! One day I’m sure he’ll find the self control to restrain his enthusiasm! As long as he doesn’t lose it for maiming the despicable denizens we call neighbors, I’m sure this can be overlooked … for now.”

Alastor patted the boy's head and followed Rosie up to her greenhouse-esque atelier. The table was already set with fresh accommodations. They took their typical seats, exchanging overly polite, old time greetings.

“I must say Alastor, you’re in quite a delightful mood! To whom should I send my regards?”

“My dearest Rosie, send it to my wonderful night’s sleep! I’m as fresh as the blood on Extermination Day! It seems a new record player did the trick well!”

“Congratulations, my friend. I do hope you’ll grace us with a delightful broadcast soon, with all that youthful energy.”

He took a sip of Cannibal Colony’s special coffee blend and hummed in satisfaction. He truly felt rested, even though he’d slept days ago. “Might you have any suggestions, sweet Rosie?”

She grinned and tutted at him, “Oh you tricky young thing, you. Of course, I always have a list, though I’m still so disappointed we never made it to Franklin.”

At the mention of her husband’s name, she took a pastry fork and flung it expertly at a large gilded portrait of the recently exterminated Franklin. There were holes galore in the painting, along with many more forks, needles, and other odd objects. Alastor was still befuddled by how she managed to pierce it with a disembodied finger, which had belonged to one of Franklin’s bastard children.

“But yes, I do have a number of miscreants who tried to lift from my boutique. The nerve, mind you. What did you have in mind this time?”

Given the last several encounters he’d had with the human Miss Miller, he’d decided, “Some more of those potions you concoct so lovingly! They’re a phenomenal resource for the hotel given the street runoff that wanders in day and night.”

It was just business. Having a human was a liability, and he needed to be prepared. He still suspected her residency was a test from Lucifer. It was simply him looking out for his future promotion. That was all.

———

Nifty
The Hazbin Hotel Lobby
Next Cleanse: 295

He he he …. “Got cha!”

Nifty hissed in delight, finally catching the seven eyed mouse that had plagued her hard work. It squirmed and snapped and spit with spite until it finally died on her claw. Before she could pop the rodent carcass into her mouth, the lobby doors slammed. Next came the swift clacks of someone wearing heels.

“Whose in charge’a this here joint?”

The cyclops demoness skittered out from under the couch, excited to see Mimzy. “Oh my gosh, why are you here? I didn’t even know you could leave the club Mimzy! Ohhh, are we going to have a party?”

Mimzy smiled at Nifty and flounced, “I’m here for this program’a Al’s. If he’s backing it, maybe it’s worth a shot.”

Immediately, Nifty started texting Charlie about a new arrival. 256 words later, the text message was sent. “So where is Big Red?”

“Beats me!” She replied. A fly buzzed somewhere around the second-floor balcony and Nifty crawled up the wall then flung herself at the insect, chomping it out of midair. With the flutter of her skirt she landed next to Mimzy who looked positively disgusted with her.

“Mia!” Nifty called out, waving as the dragonfly demoness rounded the corner. The white-haired woman looked up from her phone and plastered on a strained, sweet smile.

“Hi Nifty. Mimzy! It’s a pleasure to see you again. Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel.” The singer ignored Mia’s outstretched hand. “How can we help you?”

“You can’t help me, doll face. I’m lookin’ for Al, gonna see what this whole gig is about. Might join.”

Nifty swayed, pleasantly watching the interaction. This would be perfect material for her latest fan fiction! What was even better for her was that Alastor sauntered in at the perfect moment, the dashing male lead with a bad boy’s temper.

He came up behind Mia with a brighter smile and kinder eyes than she was used to seeing from him. Oh, the suave demon!

She knew Al to the point that his actions were translucent to her. To the point she knew he would act nearly deplorable to rebuke Mimzy’s sassy, unwanted adoration. What Al didn’t understand was how much the woman loved his hard to get attitude. Something hard to get was worth getting. Nifty had tried to explain it once, but a piece of dust fluttered up on that day and she’d forgotten all about it for nearly two years.

His claw dipped under Mia's chin as he bent down, their noses now nearly touching. “Miss Miller, my lovely girl! Breakfast was delicious as ever,” he purred.

This time, Nifty did giggle.

Mimzy’s cheeks went blood red, as a high pitch tone sounded through the lobby. Somewhere at the bar, Husk could be heard hissing at the intrusive noise. Actually, other than really enjoying the club, there was little to nothing she liked about the flapper. What she disliked the absolute most was how Mimzy approached Al.

There was no romance! No climactic drama! Nothing spicy to stir the pot! It was such a poor pairing and would make for a terrible love story.

Bland.

At one point, she considered them a potential pairing. She’d tried writing several stories about the radio demon and songstress, but it never worked. There was zero, maybe even negative OTP potential! So, in her head, she decreed them absolutely incompatible. Even Vaggie and Alastor was a better ship! And that one was so gross she called it Alggie.

Nifty snapped back to reality as Mia stepped out of Alastor’s reach and excused herself from the awkward situation, flustered. The Writing Goblin in her brain stored that snippet away for later.

Just to annoy their guest even further, she skittered up onto Al’s shoulder, demonstrating how she could touch him and Mimzy couldn’t.

Mimzy broke the short silence first, pouting and batting her lashes, “You never have breakfast with me, Al.”

Alastor chuckled and aimed point blank, “But of course! Why dear Miss Miller is a goddess amongst sinners in the kitchen, I’d dance through my soles to eat her venison roast! Enough of that now. What brings you to our lovely establishment, my good woman?”

At that moment the game ended as Charlie rushed up, giddy and hopeful about Mimzy's joining.

“Bye Charlie!” Nifty said with no introduction in the first place, her eye twitching with all the new and exotic plot ideas. One of them was a bug catching AU, what was sure to be a hit!

Chapter 15: Offer

Chapter Text

Mia
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 294

Today Mia was outside in the back gardens tending to the plants.

“Don’t you think it’s much too hot for this?” Her head whipped around. Mia rocketed toward Gabriel with a squeak as he appeared from behind a tree in his canine glory. Mia threw her arms around him smiling. In all of Hell’s insanity, she’d missed him.

He returned the hug ensuring her ribs were near crushed.

“Where have you been?!” She said, pausing her enthusiasm to whack him on the arm, pouting. “For f*ck’s sake you could have texted me! Even Vas couldn’t tell me where you were!”

He smiled, but something about it was dark. Maybe even regretful? “I’m sorry. I promise to let you know next time. I’m sure it’s been hard on you, staying here without me … Things are happening so please be patient.”

She gave him a concerned, hard look. “What kinds of things?”

Gabriel sighed and shook his head. “I’m sorry but I can’t say. Not right now. You’ve stayed within the hotel, yes?”

“Yes. Stay in the hotel. Stay safe,” she huffed.

He looked at her face, trying to discern if she was telling the truth. “Seriously?! Oh come on, where would I go? Charlie and Vaggie still think I’m staying in the hotel full time to observe their progress. I’ve been working here full time. Can you imagine how much demons eat?”

“I’m sorry,” his hands landed on her shoulders with a soft smile, “You have to understand how important it is to me that you’re safe. No Radio Demon?”

Mia rolled her eyes. “Of course. No Radio Demon. I’m not interested in becoming some cannibal’s snack. I avoid him as much as possible. Feel free to ask around if you don’t believe me.” And that much was true but his face changed and it seemed she was off the hook. There was no way in Hell, literally, that she was going to give him a run down of her unfortunate circ*mstances.

Before he could say anything else, she picked up her broom stick and pointed with a massive smile, “I’ve been practicing!”

“I’m proud, but I need you to listen. With everything happening, I’ll be gone for some time. Maybe longer than before, but I’ve set you up with someone who can keep training you when I’m not here. They’ve even agreed to come to the hotel.”

“You just got back!” There was that sunken feeling again. Disappointment and uncertainty, mixed with an overwhelming amount of sadness. Gabriel didn’t say anything. “I get it. I understand.”

She didn’t want to ask how long he would be gone for and she knew he wouldn’t give her any information about what was happening. Neither would Vassago or Lucifer. On several occasions she’d texted them and gotten nothing useful.

“Why don’t we go grab a drink hmm?” Gabriel offered her his arm and she accepted, beaming. Regardless of how he acted sometimes, she was happy to see him trying to not be such a stick in the mud “Of course! And you can tell me all about my new teacher!”

“I promise to tell you after dinner. Think you could manage some chili tonight?” They chatted and laughed all the way into the hotel lobby. At the bar sat a morose p*rn star stirring frilly co*cktail, Husker reading behind the bar, and Alastor posted up in an armchair with a news paper. Gabriel pointedly ignored all the deceased sinners.

“Oooooh wolf man is back!” Angel cooed as the sat down.

Angel ignored Mia and slinked around to the dog demon, drink in hand. Mia frowned, noticing the spider’s odd demeanor. She looked to Husk, trying to catch his gaze, but he stuck his face deeper in his book. Sure Husk was prickly even by Hell’s standards but to so blatantly ignore Angel coupled with the odd tension in the room … everything felt off.

Mia spared a glance at Alastor who nodded at her maliciously. Well, if malicious nodding was even possible and oh boy did he make it seem so.

During that brief exchange, something happened, causing quite the commotion. Gabriel jumped up with a snarl and snap of his fangs while Angel just stood there looking apathetic and cold. The co*cktail glass shattered across the floor.

“Ya know that’d costed some schmuck an eight ball,” he snickered, inspecting his nails.

“Hey, you ok?” Mia asked Gabriel. He ignored her, doing his best to stay composed. Looking down she saw one of his pant legs covered in pink booze.

“Disgusting. I’m not interested in some disease ridden, loathsome hooker. Touch me like that again and you will meet a most certain second death. Mia, I’m going to shower.” With that Gabriel stormed off, leaving her mouth hung slack while looking back at Angel.

“Angel, what did you do?”

He didn’t look at her either but his face turned pained, six arms wrapping around himself tight. “Tch! You know, this is why cats and dogs make sh*t pets. f*ck this joint.”

Cats and dogs? Angel stormed out of the hotel. Wheeling around she demanded, “Husker, what is happening with him?”

Husker suddenly looked aged, his posture more slumped and weak. He huffed, lit a cigarette, and headed off down the hall. For him to leave the comfort of the bar meant to her that some f*ckery was going down.

“Jesus f*cking Christ! Am I invisible?”

Mia stalked behind the bar to pour herself a drink. Angel’s behavior was bizarre, even for him. This was far from the normal overly sexual shenanigans. He took pride in the way he threw himself at people, or so she thought. Mia tipped back a double. While being totally bewildered, she was also absolutely pissed that she’d been ignored three times.

A shadow twisted into Alastor on the stool in front of her. For f*ck’s sake, she’d forgotten he was even there. To think Gabriel left her with him in the room. God, he must have been so pissed.

What she wouldn’t give to be ignored one more time. Maybe if she just left …

Mia started to leave the bar when he finally said, “Why you’ll never learn to make a proper sazerac like that! You young things always take your libations too quickly! Come come now.”

She went to open her mouth in protest but he continued, “We might need a substitute bartender in the future if Husker and Angel Dust stay bickering like children.”

Damn him.

Obviously she wanted to know what was going on. Who wouldn’t? So here he was not so subtly bartering information for a drink. It wasn’t like he couldn’t make it himself.

Even so, helping Charlie meant getting to the bottom of this bullsh*t. Mia exhaled and grabbed a lowball glass. Small shadows materialized the necessary ingredients and a small instruction card, hand-written in elegant burgundy script. As she started quietly making the drink, he started telling her about the small issues piling up with Angel. Drugs in his room. Posting lewd pictures with the hotel tagged. Not scheduling when he’d be out. Not cleaning his room. Not meeting with the doctor at all.

Once Alastor was done, they stayed in silence. She wasn’t thinking about Angel any more. No, she was mulling over her own ridiculous plan. Gabriel’s needing to be gone soon certainly changed things, but in front of her sat the solution.

“Uhm, I was hoping to pick your brain,” she said, trying her best to feign being chill.

He sipped at his drink, waiting for her to continue.

“So it seems we both have an issue right? You can’t sleep. I can’t leave the hotel without becoming a demon’s snack or worse it seems. So what if we worked something out?” If her confidence had wavered any other time in her life, that would have been fine, but here? In front of the Radio Demon? Mia suddenly didn’t feel that delusional sense of bravery she normally carried.

“Hmmmm.” Alastor drummed his fingers on the glass, the other hand against his chin. It was a ruse, she figured, observing his mock consideration.

“You know what, maybe it’s best I drop it. I’ll leave you to your drink.”

Mia went to leave the bar once more but before she could, he added, “And what’s stopping me from just utilizing your talents when I so please, hmm?”

His grin was coy, eyes challenging her. Honestly, they idea of being jerked around again by someone else pissed her off. It struck a nerve. Jerked from her life. Jerked into Hell. Jerked into trying to be something she had literally no power to be. Jerked around by his whiplashing ways. Jerked into a pile of trash and metal in an alley. Her mouth pursed and she smacked her hands on the bar.

It as dramatic as she’d hoped and he nearly snorted at her defiant countenance. “Oh ma jolie proie, it seems I’ve struck a nerve.”

“Listen here, you are not going to do that to me. And if you do, there won’t be soul who can help you!”

“HA! Oh dear you must be so frightening when you’re mad! Like a kitten angry about its milk.” His expression changed, to something knowing, something dark. “Please, tell me how you’ll make this old sinner's soul regret doing that? You, a young lady in Hell with no powers?”

If she ran him through with her glaive, with an angelic weapon, the searing pain would be enough to convince him. Mia tried to collect herself. If he wasn’t interested, why would he even bother toying with her? Of course there as a 50/50 chance he was doing it for the giggles, but what did she really have to lose?

“Like I said,” her voice was strained, trying to not sound annoyed, “I can help your problem, if you’d be willing to help mine.”

Red eyes glinted mirthfully. That sharp smile wide and thoroughly entertained. He always looked at people so directly she noted, for the sheer purpose of making them uncomfortable.

Oh god he was enjoying this. There was more fake thinking on his part. Alastor tapped his now empty glass and she gave in, making him another sazerac. Once she sat the drink down, he said, “And what of mine do you seek?”

“I want Miles.” She said all too enthusiastically. It shocked her that he’d even bothered to ask. “No, f*ck. That didn’t come out right. I want to be able to leave the hotel sometimes. Go see Hell. Not all the time, not more than once or twice between your sleeping days. As long as Miles doesn’t mind that is.”

Suddenly the blue mouthed shadow swirled to life on the bar top, waving at her. Mia smiled and waved back, “Hey Miles.”

The shadow gave a thumbs up to Alastor whose smile faltered, though only by a fraction.

“You must consider yourself a clever one Miss Miller.” That was bait and she wasn’t going to bite.

“Deal or no deal?” She asked, squaring herself with confidence.

“And to what extent do require my services? You certainly find your fair share of trouble.”

Mia nodded, understanding his concern. “I don’t expect him to do more than watch my back and if something sticky happens, he can bring me back here. No fights, no gnawing on other demons, no abuse of privileges.”

“As well and good as that sounds, what are you offering in return dear girl?”

“Well, helping you sleep. Wouldn’t it be nice to sleep more than every ten days? Just think of how much better you’ll feel. More powerful too! … Probably.”

“Oh dear, that simply isn’t enough,” he said with a sly smile, leaning in over the bar top, “A few songs for my shade? For personal protection from someone of my status? Surely your freedom, no matter how infrequent is worth more than that.”

Well this was just peachy. She certainly didn’t have anything to offer besides being a creature with a decent voice. Mia racked her brain. What was something he needed? Or even better, something he hated … The solution hit her like a brick to the face.

“Mimzy!” She exclaimed with a snap, pointing at him.

“We all know she’s only here to get at you and you’re deluded if you think she won’t drive you stark raving mad. If Miles is protecting me, I wouldn’t have to worry about her anyway and if she thinks, well ya know, you’re with someone, she might leave you alone!”

It was cliche and cringe worthy, but she’d heard stories from Husker and Angel about how relentless Mimzy was in her pursuits. Sending him cards, gifts, dedicating songs to him openly at the club. It started to effect his reputation. “And why do you seem so certain that a little competition would dissuade her?”

Finally, it was her turn to flash a wicked grin. “Because how pathetic would she look pining over someone taken? A real shame if rumors happened to spread about her trying to be a home-wrecker even after being so thoroughly rejected. Desperate is bad look, even in Hell.”

This time, Mia got the impression he was genuinely considering her proposition. “You’ve overlooked a detail! What will you do when gossip spreads of our ill-begotten relationship?” That last word came out as if he was going to gag. So he did actually find romantic attachments disgusting.

“Who’s going to tell? This little show would only be for Mimzy and what does she gain by telling everyone else she lost the Radio Demon’s heart to some no name goody two shoes with no power?”

Alastor’s eyes narrowed, assessing her. For once, Mia felt like she was on the same level as the demons around her. If she couldn’t strong arm her way through Hell, she could certainly out wit her way.

“As clever as you think of yourself, I highly suspect your mutt isn’t going to allow such a scheme or for you to make it off the premises.” He stood up to leave but Mia hopped to grab his sleeve. No way she was going to let her chance for protection, for freedom, just saunter away and dismiss her.

With as stern a voice as she could muster, she continued on even as the air around him visibly darkened and static filled the air. “He’s leaving again,” she confessed. “He’s leaving and I refuse to be a prisoner here. Ideally, this would start once he’s gone.”

His smile split wide, eyes turning to dials. Fear and pressure started make her skin bristle but there was no backing down. If she’d really been some angelic hotshot once upon at time, now was the time she needed that confidence.

Alastor’s head clicked to the side, “Let go.”

“Go ahead and throttle me.” And for a second he considered her challenge. Mia wondered if this would be the end of her current life. Or maybe dying in Hell, meant staying in Hell?

At least then there would be something to work with and maybe she'd live past 30.

In all of her craftiness, she hadn’t predicted what was coming. Instead of ending her, torturing her, or even accepting her proposition, Alastor vanished into a shadow. Her empty hand hung in the air and Mia wondered if she’d just royally f*cked up.

Chapter 16: Doodles

Chapter Text

Chapter 17: Four

Chapter Text

Alastor
Pentagram City - Sheol River Bridge
Next Cleanse: 292

“What an annoying, foul, abrasive, degenerate, obnoxious woman.”

Alastor strolled across Pentagram City’s largest bridge, occasionally tossing a nearby miscreant off into the half frozen, half boiling whatever below. He certainly would not call the greenish liquid water. Annoyance and irritation ate at him while contemplating Mia Miller’s brazenness. Contemplating ripping her in half that was.

Had a mortal soul ever approached him with a deal before? The gaul!

A shriek sounded behind him as a black tentacle dragged a burly lizard demon into the river depths. Alastor’s mood was certainly sour.

Demons almost always moved out of his way but it never failed that a moron would see his ears, not recognize him, and mistake him for prey. Maybe that’s what annoyed him the most. Deals were meant to suit his needs. Amuse him. No one was supposed to approach him! Sheer lunacy!

His hand glowed red as a car speeding past crumpled and skidded into the other lane.

What’s worse was Miles seeming enthusiastic about the ordeal! The thought made Alastor want to retch. The shade was an extension of himself, existing between being apart of him and independent. The only time his shadow was detached was when he slept so her awful suggestion was null regardless. Miles represented mostly raw emotion, untended emotions. A siphon for clearing his head. Alastor could divulge himself of frivolous, harping emotions that way. A literal shadow of all his humanity.

Did the woman excite him? Certainly. She was a rare package of human meat that he hadn’t tasted in 40 years. The last time he’d ate one was when a butchered politician was smuggled in and sold at the black market. Humans in Hell, raw or cooked, were expressly forbidden by Lucifer.

He wondered if reporting her was meant to be a test, but how would he explain knowing she was human?

Telling the King of Hell he purposefully tasted her blood did not bode well and was ruled out. The theory of Charlie’s involvement was also ruled out. The Princess allowed the woman too many freedoms. Surely if Charlie knew Miss Miller was so helpless, she’d treat her like a porcelain doll. Delicate and fragile.

Then that look. That look on her face irked him to no end. Oh, such defiance. “Throttle me she says! Malarky! I ought do worse and snap that back talking she-devil in half.”

Alastor was now day dreaming of soft flesh, raw and smeared with blood, tasting delicious. Sharp screams and cries, panicked apologies, pleading for him to let her live.

Radio tunes filled the air as he went on about his pleasant day dream. Smaller demons, all red skinned and horned skittered away as he walked by. A dog man with a puppy ducking into a shop. He’d wandered into Imp City without a thought it seemed. It was more residential than Pentagram City since so many Hellborn families lived in the area.

With what would be considered coincidence in any world, Alastor noticed that brazen brat across the street. She was accompanied a female imp and a hellhound. All of them had beverages from the cafe, heading down the street. Was this her solution to his refusal? To make friends with powerless Hellborn creatures?` He was nearly insulted.

He sent a shade to hide in her shadow as he trailed just far enough away to ease drop.

“Gosh sugar! Keep trainin’ like that and you’ll have to join us for work sometime!” Drawled the small imp. The Hellhound was entirely checked out and playing on her cellular device.

“They way you handled that axe! Millie I’ve never seen someone wield something so much larger than them!” The women laughed.

“Means a lot coming from you! Gettin’ used to a new body cain’t be easy. Moxxie’ll drive ya back in the van. I’ll see you in the mornin’ and good luck with that party tonight!” How suspicious, he thought. It was another odd piece of information concerning her that didn’t fit.

Alastor recalled the shadow and carried on with his stroll out of the hound infested borough. The reek of dog bothered him and he normally avoided the area all together.

He’d seen the woman training with her brother on several occasions, but thought nothing of it. Basic self defense was common in Hell among the weak. Compared to magic and brute force though, it was relatively useless. Really a waste of time. So then that left the question: training for what?

A human in Hell with permission. A dog man who seemed to have power, coming and going all willy nilly. Now the human was training with an imp using deadly weapons. He couldn’t wrap his head around it. Annoyingly, he pondered if countering her bargain would have been a better idea. Mimzy was certainly a nuisance but not unmanageable. And sleeping …

He groaned, regretting her initial assistance. Had he truly been so tired that he needed someone’s help? Unfortunately yes and he’d not been able to sleep since then.

During life insomnia plagued him. His mother made it so easy to fall sleep. She never went to bed before he did, always singing around the house while cooking or sewing or gardening.

Once she died, his sleeping habits worsened and so did his bloody hobby. It irked him still to think that he’d probably gotten caught that night because he’d not slept properly for nearly a week. Whilst rubbing the covered Death Mark on his forehead, Alastor pushed down the memory. Reliving his human days was nothing in comparison to the freedom and power he had in Hell. Short of his mother and a few small things, there was nothing worth missing.

Hell was his fantastical playground and soon all of Pride would be his. The day dreams started again, thinking of the shock and horror on that dreadful TV’s face when his promotion goes public.

———

Antti
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 292

Antti rubbed his ‘special’ lotion on his hands, waiting for his next patient: Mimzy.

He’d studied her dossier extensively, trying to find the best fit for her in their grand plan. Having access to someone apart of the general populous could move up their timeline. Earlier in the day, the head of his sect said to feel around for information but not jump the gun quite yet. Epaphus was patient and wanted realistic options. The doctor respected that steady nature.

Soon came a sharp knock. The club owner sauntered in without a knock, snobbishly eyeing him and his office. Internally, he delighted. Her sort was the most satisfying to work with. They fell fast and hard. A delight to experience the whole. “Miss Mimzy! It is a pleasure to have you!”

He reached out a hand with a warm smile. She seemed entirely uncertain, limply extending her hand like some old fashion court woman. Antti took her gloved hand and placed his other hand on her bare shoulder. Luckily she didn’t shrug him off so he let go as to not irk her.

“Please, have a seat,” he said gesturing to the couch.

“Thanks doc.” Actually, now she seemed more nervous than haughty. “So what’s this suppose’a be ‘bout?”

“Well,” he handed her a pamphlet outlining the benefits and possibilities to be had with talk therapy. It was also coated thinly in his lotion. Hopefully it would take effect through her gloves as she read it. “I’m here to help facilitate redemption in the long run. For now though, I just want to get to know you Mimzy. I have to say you have a wondrous reputation! I’ve not been in Hell long but so many people talk highly of you and your business! Talk about lucky, to have such an amazing patient.”

His fan girling over her worked almost too well. She was sitting comfortably, eyeing the pamphlet and looking particularly contemplative. “Much obliged doc. I joined this outfit because if it’s good enough for Big Red, it ought be good enough for me!”

His non existent brows pulled together, “Excuse me, but who is Big Red?”

She rolled her eyes, “Al? Tall, powerful, devilishly handsome? Alastor? The Radio Demon?”

“Ah yes, Mister Alastor. Unfortunately I’ve been so consumed with clients that I’ve not had the fortune of speaking with him. So what brought you into our program? Charlotte tells me you’ll be attempting an out patient version?”

Mimzy nodded. “Yep. Al’s a great catch! No offense hun, I don’t look to redeem for whacking off Wilburn, my dead husband. Piece of sh*t tanked our joint! Ran off with a broad and left me with all that debt! I took his head to the loan shark and started a cover gig for ‘em. Me and Dannie got along real swell.”

“You’ve lead a life worthy of a movie!”

For the next thirty minutes the woman gabbed back and forth about her club, life, and disgusting adoration for that red sad*st. Eventually she pulled off her long gloves and fanned herself, “Sheesh doc! I get you’s a lizard but think you can crack a window?”

There it was. “My apologies, but I don’t have any windows. I’ll make sure to keep it cooler next time. Could you tell me what time it is?”

Her eyes, now glazed and heavy looked to the clock directly behind him, ticking to and fro. The feather on her head swayed as she followed it, “Now Mimzy, tell me something you’re deeply embarrassed of.”

“I keep a picture of Al’s head pasted on a cut out of a half naked man in my work desk …” And now he was certain she was out of it.

“Mimzy, on our next meeting you’ll have the wonderful idea to bring me a key to your club and ensure I have a very, very private space for my friends and I to meet. You’ll never worry about it, you’ll never remember it. And as for ‘Big Red’, why shouldn’t a woman like you have him?”

“Yeah,” she murmured, nodding sleepily.

“So don’t give up. Do everything in your power to have him. Be blunt. Be brave. Make him yours. Don’t let him ignore or dismiss you.”

This was all too easy he thought, watching her fists clench and her mouth pull into a sleepy smirk. With that he sent her off with instructions and some bullsh*t about how she enjoyed getting things off her chest and would be back next week.

His chaos was going well, despite being juvenile mischief for now. That was good enough. If everyone was distracted, that gave him plenty of room to manipulate and do as needed. Long term stress did amazingly horrific things to people. If Mimzy kept the Radio Demon busy that would play to his plan perfectly and soon Hell’s princess wouldn’t know what hit her. For now he wanted to close shop with the mandatory welcome dinner being tonight.

———

Vaggie
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 292

Vaggie inspected their work. Alongside Charlie, Razzle, Dazzle, and Nifty, they’d set up the hotel’s ballroom with a large ‘U’ shaped table. It was Charlie’s idea so everyone could be together more thoroughly. Tonight they were welcoming three new guests. Hopefully these ones would stick around. Lately there was an issue with demon checking in as a prank or for a one time meal and bed.

Their finances were abysmal by human standards. Charlie threw money around as if it was glitter and Vaggie wasn’t even sure if Alastor had a need for money given his fearsome status.

She was jerked around by her hand from behind. Charlie giggled and twirled them about. “Oh Vaggie! Loooook!”

“It’s all amazing Charlie,” she said holding onto her girlfriend’s hand. This was a nice distraction from all of the patrons acting up like indignant children. Honestly, Vaggie didn’t expect them to act any better. Crymini was the biggest thorn in her side with all the vandalizing, loud music, leaving trash everywhere. Just acting like a brat all around.

Juvenile nonsense irked Vaggie the most. She’d grew up hard and fast in El Salvador with seven siblings, a prostitute for a mother, and a policeman who may or may not have been her father. Maybe that’s why she was so desperate to make all of Charlie’s dreams come true, to help nurture something good and wholesome even in Hell.

Charlie placed a soft kiss on her earlobe, shocking and flustering her back to the moment. They smiled and blushed. Vaggie brushed at a piece of Charlie’s luminous hair, “You ready to get this party started Querida?”

“Yes! I’ve texted everyone to be on their best behavior and if all goes well, I promised everyone a reward! If you can’t win them with honey, money works too.” That last bit came out in a Lucifer-esque tone which made Vaggie snicker. “I think Mimzy is already in the lobby waiting.”

She gagged a little, “I can’t believe someone, anyone, is interested in Alastor. She may need our most help.” Charlie playfully punched her in the arm with mock scolding. “Tell me I’m wrong Char.”

Charlie couldn’t. “I mean there is someone for everyone, maybe Mimzy is the key to help redeem Al?” Her tone made it obvious that the thought was doubtful at best.

“You go and let Mia know we’re ready and I’ll bring everyone in Hun.” Vaggie squeezed Charlie’s hand then went out into the lobby. Tonight’s dinner was mandatory so everyone was present but Mia who was still in the kitchen. It seemed like the archangel was always in the kitchen or garden, sincerely trying to help their cause. It was a huge relief actually. She never concerned herself with the whereabouts of Gabriel though. He was the most mature and she respected him, but she didn’t like the idea of a full fledged angel in the hotel. One wrong move and sh*t could catch fire.

At least Mia was contracted to not use her powers to some degree. That’s what Charlie had told her. And that was what Lucifer told Charlie. Something about all of this didn’t sit right in Vaggie’s stomach. Still … if some of the universe’s oldest beings were willing to make Charlie’s dream work, she wouldn’t protest.

“Alright, thank you everyone for being on time, dinner will be served after Charlie introduces our new guests. You all have assigned seats.” That bit was her idea in an effort to keep the peace and to keep Alastor as far away as possible. Everyone took their place with little to no fuss.

A clinking filled the room as Charlie tapped a claw against a glass.”Everyone, thank you so much for being here! Today we’re gathered to introduce three new members to our Happy -”

From his seat Angel scoffed and yelled, “That sign says Hazbin, Princess!”

Charlie’s eye twitched, but she ignored the shenanigans. Lately they’d learned a lot about picking and choosing their battles. Table manners just wasn’t something they had the energy for today.

“As I was saying, we’re here to welcome three new members! First I’d like to introduce Mimzy, a friend to us already! She’s here as our exciting volunteer to the outpatient program! While not staying with us, she will be joining us often in the near future!”

Mimzy took advantage of her non existent spotlight to wink and smile. The small demoness even blew an overly dramatic kiss to Alastor who did nothing but smile, as the corners of his eyes twitched furiously. Husker and Angel had the audacity to laugh and snicker.

In effort to not have one of his broadcasts made from the hotel, Charlie moved on. “Next we have Jarold! Would you like to introduce yourself?”

The demon standing on the table was no larger than a house cat and was some form of a rat. Vaggie had nearly squashed him at check in. Apparently his wife had killed him with a shotgun while in bed with his mistress. Unfortunately that was one of the most common stories in Hell.

Next came a bird looking man, all dark and wearing a hat. He kept shooting lewd looks at Angel. She wouldn’t have thought anything of it except that Angel just was not having it. He even seemed disgusted.

“Name’s Travis. Figured I’ve give this sh*t show a chance since my wife gave me the boot. Not that I mind.” His last words gave everyone a disgusting feeling because of how suggestive they were.

The entire room ate in relative silence which Vaggie felt blessed for. A lot of bribing was done to keep things smooth. Nifty was the most helpful. Every time it seemed like people were starting to bicker with each other, the tiny demoness would zoom over and make for a bigger distraction with the place settings or food. Vaggie had approached Nifty privately earlier. Sure she’d spent a chunk of her savings on the demoness’s new laptop, but the peace was well worth it. Charlie’s smile was worth it a thousand fold.

“So what do you think Hun?”

Charlie’s fork missed her black lips due to Vaggie’s question, leaving a smudge of food. Before the princess could react Vaggie wiped it away with her thumb, leaning in with a warm smile. She could see the blush starting to form.

“You’re so precious mi corazón.” Vaggie seductively popped the thumb into her mouth, winking in the other’s direction. If steam could have came from Charlie’s ears, it would have.

“Ohhh well …. Ah,” Charlie stammered, staring at the thumb. Slowly she stated, trying to stay focused, “I think things are good.”

Vaggie giggled and nodded, “I think things are good too. And hey, happy six month anniversary.”

———

Angel
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 292

Angel wanted to be the first demon out of that ridiculous dinner. f*cking ugly ass Travis just had to check in. A string of colorful, Italian curses filled the lobby as the heel of his boot pierced the couch cushion.

He was having a hard enough time balancing Val’s new projects, ideas, and trying to create hype for the oh so brilliant reality series that was going to follow Angel in the hotel. They were going to sell episodes as watch events to keep it exclusive, secretive, and pricey. And that new sh*t Val was slinging out …

No matter how hard he searched, his pockets were empty, the new blow all used up. There were even new cigarettes on the market to accompany the drug. It was going over swimmingly for Valentino, especially thanks to Angel.

“f*ckin’ Mary and Joseph,” he muttered, collapsing to the couch with his head in his hands. Tonight was gonna be a hard fall if he couldn’t go out and get some. This f*cking hotel. Angel was already on thin ice with Vaggie. Charlie was being overbearing as f*ck, checking in, texting him, making sure he was ok. All that sweet girl bullsh*t. f*ck that noise.

“Mmm, looking pretty sexy there Angel Dust.” Angel nearly growled as Travis stopped right in front of him.

“The f*ck you doin’ here? Ain’t you gotta wife? Go f*ck with her for once, I’m off the clock and I don’t work in here.” Four hands flipped Travis the finger with a scowl.

The bird man’s face didn’t change, still looking lecherous and conniving. “I dunno, baby. That’s not what Valentino told me. Gave me a pretty nice chunk of change to come up in here and keep you company.”

Angel’s face fell and his spots nearly went white. If Val was the reason Travis showed up, that meant he had less time to get things figured out than anticipated. He was seriously struggling. Sure he didn’t care about this f*cking hotel succeeding but there were people here who were at least decent to him. Made all the misery a little more bearable. This little piece of sanctuary where he wasn’t just a fine piece of ass and Valentino’s on-demand co*ck gobbler.

His lack of response seemed to annoy Travis. The black demon hopped on top of Angel, running his claws through that famous, fuzzy chest. “Come on baby, I know what kind of nasty slu*t you are. Come up with me and let’s get my bed worked in. Val even sent you some snow if you’re a good f*ck toy. How’s that sound baby?”

Agitated heat filled Angel’s body at the mere thought of getting high. Really, what was one lousy romp with Travis to get some good drugs and make Valentino happy for just a few more days? A few more days for him to figure something out. And at least if he was f*cking Travis in the hotel he didn’t need to go hook downtown.

Before he could give in to the demand, Travis was no longer over him. Instead there was a large, seething cat who had punched the significantly smaller bird into the floor. Angel sat stunned. Husker wasn’t though. A demonic glow started forming in all of symbols on his body, eyes turning a venomous green. ”Get up you f*cking trash.”

Travis spat out a tooth, but ignored Husk entirely. “Damn Angel Baby, guess you really moved on to puss*, heh?”

Husk didn’t wait around for more sass. The long claws reached into Travis’s mouth, piercing through his tongue and dragging him to his feet. “Talk like that again and I’ll make sure to rip your f*cking goddamn tongue out every f*cking day. You got that sh*t face?”

Something in Angel’s brain finally clicked. He sprung onto the arm hoisting up Travis, “Husky let ‘em go. He’s just a dick. Nothin’ new.”

Husk did as asked, but with a lot of reluctance. Angel bent down to Travis who was nearly gargling blood as Husk went and situated himself behind the bar. “Check yourself or f*ck around and find out.”

The spider demon tried to meet the cat’s gaze but he was already swigging at his bottle of booze, nose stuck in some obnoxiously thick Russian novel. Travis scurried off, furiously texting on his phone, no doubt to Valentino. Angel swallowed hard, afraid for what may come next. Walking out of the hotel, suddenly hooking and street drugs didn’t seem too bad.

Chapter 18: Disney

Chapter Text

Mia
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 286

Gabriel dodged.

Mia managed to grab his ankle as she skid past. The momentum of her lunge snapped him to the ground. She pounced. Finally she sat on his chest, two knives pressed on his throat, grinning like a mad woman. This was her first win against Gabriel.

“I said no weapons!”

She snickered, then helped him up. “Oh get over it. Hidden weapons count in a no weapons fight. Loona and Millie don’t leave home without at least 8 concealed. They fight dirty and I love it.”

He scoffed but his smile was proud, ruffling her hair. All of the hours of training with the two women, her brother, and alone was making her a sly, clever, and capable warrior.

When she started re-learning to fight, he’d tried to train her like an angel. Oh what a disaster that was. Naturally powerful and morally sound didn’t makeup for her 180 degree weaknesses.

It didn’t make the cut with the I.M.P. either. They nearly laughed her out on day one! Mia got her ass kicked every f*cking day. If it wasn’t for Stolas’s grimoire and herbal remedies at the ready she’d need a full body cast after every practice. Or a funeral.

The idea of a funeral made her laugh and Gabriel raised his dog man eyebrow. Mia wiped at her forehead, grinning awkwardly, “Just thinking about dying. The upside is eventually I’ll see space travel! Can you imagine?”

He gave her an incredulous look but for once, didn’t take it so seriously. It was nice to watch him regain a sense of humor. “No actually I can’t.”

“Ughhh. Think about it!” Mia saddled up to him waving her hands across the pentragrammed sky. She sounded dreamy, nearly exploding with childlike wonder. “One day I could be Janeway. Talk to aliens. Discover civilizations. Study new forms of matter! Imagine, what if humans make it to other star systems! One day, I could be born on a trading outpost near Sirius! Become an astroparticle physicist.”

“Do you dream in Star Trek? Is Hell not wondrous enough?” He asked sarcastically. His tone was enough demonstration that he couldn’t fathom her science filled ambitions.

“Yes I do! And! I wouldn’t know Milton. I follow the rules.” Mia dead panned. That shut up him up well enough. “Hell is dictated by magic or … maybe it’s different than magic but it sure as f*ck isn’t science. You can’t calculate or model this madness!”

“I take it Vas has been sending you text books at least?” She smiled sheepishly. Her little smuggling operation was blown and yet, he wasn’t pissed.

“Absolutely. I stay busy, trust me.”

They headed around to the front of the hotel so she could check on some of the vegetables. “What happened to that fishy friend of yours? Charlotte said he went AWOL.”

She never expected him to ask about Baxter. Ever since that night, she’d done her best to not think of it. “Beats me. I guess everyone in Hell is a flake.”

What disappointed her was how positively he responded, “I’m glad you’re learning. Hell is made to fool sinners into an eternal misery.”

Mia thought about Sir Pentious, someone happy if not ecstatic, even grateful to be in Hell where he had the luxury to invent and experiment. To always meet new minds and unique talents. To always have something to overcome. She wondered what portion of the world’s scientists were down here. “What constitutes being sent to Hell?”

He shrugged. “Not my department. No two sins are the same. Though I think y-“ Mid sentence he stopped and put a finger to his mouth. Mia looked around from her kneeling position, spotting something red coming up the hotel’s driveway twirling a cane. Alastor soon spotted them. The men turned different versions of sour as the air filled with tension.

“Why Miss Miller, I didn’t think you were also responsible for walking the dog! Such a dedicated worker.” He continued on into the hotel and threw her a knowing look. “Darling girl, it would do you well to be careful! Surely you’d hate to scrape up your legs rolling around in the dirt.”

With that he strolled off into the hotel. Gabriel snarled as a dog would, flashing sharp fangs. “Disgusting demon.”

“Do you hate all demons?” Mia asked, hoping to not talk about Alastor specifically.

“No. I don’t particularly care for them though. I do hate that one.”

“Are you even allowed to hate? I mean I can’t stand him but I don’t hate him. He’s just really f*cking annoying,” she said rising to her feet.

Gabriel groaned, arm tight and protective around her shoulders. “You curse too much, Mia. Have you heard Vagatha speak about him? Surely you’ve discovered his reputation?”

Mia shrugged. “I don’t think Vaggie hates him … Ok, maybe she does hate him but I think that’s a personal issue on her specifically. I don’t know him any better than anyone else here. Why do you know about him?”

Instead of walking into the hotel they went around to the back door as to avoid the Radio Demon. Mia had anticipated some disconnected answer, but no, it was entirely reasonable. “He’s a cannibal and serial killer. His power makes him a dangerous force above everyone but Charlie. Do you really think I’d leave you here without knowing at least that much?”

“Well I appreciate your due diligence on my behalf. Why does he have so much power when the other souls don’t?”

Gabriel looked like she’d smacked him in the face and stopped dead. Then he growled to the point she was nearly frightened. “Michael don’t you dare go looking for answers to these nonsense questions. These hellions will do worse than kill you if you snoop around in their lives!”

She gulped, not liking this side of him. There was so much more under that sentence and she wanted to tear into it. There were answers in those words but she knew he’d never given them out. “Gabe, I was asking questions. I get it, ok? Trust me, please?”

Mia felt awful for lying to him, even if it was half of a lie. Actually, it didn’t matter because she was lying to everyone. All the beings around her only received half truths. Moments like these made her feel disconnected and uncertain about any and all of her choices.

“Have you learned anything new?” She asked in an attempt to move past his reaction.

He shook his head. “No unfortunately. We’ve squashed sects left and right in the the mortal realm, but there’s little info otherwise. I’ll be meeting with Lucifer tonight to talk about our next steps.”

Her stomach dropped. As per usual, she was going to be left out of the loop. Asking about Gemma would do nothing but make her miserable. Vassago had explicitly told her no one could locate the eccentric girl and that crushed her. To think Gemma was probably dead or worse with another faction of demons … Mia didn’t want to think about it.

———

Charlie
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 279

Charlie rushed for the kitchen. Today she had free time and wanted to spend it drilling her aunt with a million questions. Trying to drum up business and quell all the brash personalities was a full time job. Actually, it left her utterly exhausted. Resting was somewhere on her agenda … maybe. This wasn’t the time however!

From the door frame she could see her aunt stirring a large pot, swaying and singing a song she didn’t know. Charlie inhaled and salivated at the spiced, meaty aroma. “That smells so good! What’s for dinner?”

Mia looked over at the girl who was leaning into her personal space to inspect the simmering substance.

“It’s curry. Nothing fancy. I wanted to make something easy for dinner so I can start on some pretzel dough. I’m just looking to try a few things out. Maybe have some bar foods on the weekends? I thought it might keep some people in the hotel on the weekends and out of trouble. And you’ve been too successful lately, little missy! All these mouths to feed! What do you think?”

The ‘younger’ girl bounced and grinned. Having her aunt’s whole hearted support was fuel and hope. “Whatever you want to do will be fantastic! I didn’t know people eat at bars.”

“Luci kept you pretty sheltered huh?” Charlie pouted but then straightened up. With a co*cky smile and wiggling eyebrows, she said, “The realm is dangerous Charlotte! Ahahah and the sweetest apples are easily bruised!”

They cackled wildly, supporting each other to not fall over in their fits.

“Still, he is right and I know that isn’t what you want to hear. But as a young lady and heir to the throne, you have plenty of living and experiences ahead of you. How about this, you help me with cooking tonight and I’ll answer some of your questions about Earth, yeah?”

Charlie flicked her wrist, magicking on her apron. The thick blonde hair neatly braided itself. Ready for her duties, Charlie saluted. “You were living on Earth before right? Not in Heaven?”

Her father almost always got agitated when she had Earth or Heaven based questions. It sucked. How could she rule with one hand tied behind her back and a blindfold over her eyes? How was she to meet his expectations but not do anything worth while?

“Yeah, I’ve spent a lot of time on Earth these last few years. Sometimes angels take breaks too. I was actually in school.” Mia started explaining to what kind of research she did and about science in general. Charlie’s mouth hung open nearly the whole time, especially as Mia explained how fire literally worked. Things called molecules and chemical reactions. What was even more thrilling was how excited her aunt got about the topic. Lucifer would get the same way talking about Lilith or about any of his numerous hobbies.

Mia pulled her in with a grin and a wink. “There are a lot of things I cannot tell you. I respect Luci and I’m not your parent. I don’t get to make those decisions or go behind his back. Buuuuuut I’m still your aunt and I love you beyond reason! That’s why we don’t need to tell your Dad everything.”

Charlie squealed in delight, excited for anything and everything that was coming. She would suffocate with bated breath waiting for the big reveal. “I heard you like musicals and human fiction?”

“I loooooove to sing! I love to read! Vaggie says sometimes I care too much about human things but I never feel like it is enough! I love to dance! My school had a choir and theatre group. So I did that a lot. And mom is obviously famous for her opera debuts. She said when I turn 300 I can join her in a show!”

Mia poked her niece’s cheek spot affectionately. “Forget your dad! You take after me sweet girl. I used to be a theater kid myself. Then I joined a competitive ballroom club. Your uncle Vassago and I made arrangements and now we have access to pretty much all the human entertainment you could want. Ever seen a Disney movie?”

If her hybrid heart could swell anymore it would rupture open. Charlie launched at her aunt, “I don’t know what ‘A Disney’ is but I want to watch it! Can we after dinner? Oh please Auntie?”

“Absolutely. We could even turn the ballroom into a big pillow mess and make it a pajama party. I can start on the cookies and hot chocolate now.”

Charlie accepted, immediately messaging their entire text group about a ‘Musical Pajama Nigh Party’ for everyone in the ballroom. Afterwards she did her best to focus and help finish dinner. For all the years she’d felt belittled by her love of all things human, by her love for a mortal sinner, now she felt hopeful.

The more she could relate to humans, their dreams and fears and experiences, the better prepared she was to help them. And now she had a legend on her side. If that wasn’t a slam dunk waiting to happen, she didn’t know what was.

———

Mia
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 279

Dinner came and went. Nifty, excited for movie night finished all of the dinner clean up before Mia could finish wiping down the dining room.

Tonight, she took her duty of selecting Disney movies seriously. In attendance was Nifty, Vaggie, Charlie, Irina, Katerina, Jarold, and surprisingly enough, Alastor. His presence made her stomach shrink but maybe he enjoyed musicals as much as everyone else? She seriously doubted it.

It didn’t matter. No matter who showed up tonight, this was for Charlie and no one else. She settled for a good assortment: Mary Poppins, Beauty and the Beast, then Moana. A little bit of everything and wonderful scores to boot. Diving into cliche love stories about helpless girls wasn’t her style but Belle wasn’t the worst offender at least.

The oven timer went off over the lively sound of people scarring to the ballroom. She’d already given Vaggie the movies so that left the snacks. Mia was distracted with excitement to the point that she opened the it with her gloved hand and went for the sheet pan with her bare one.

“f*ck!” Mia hissed and cursed.

Regardless of the scorched palm, she took her protected hand and grabbed the cookies. Just as the pan settled on the stove, she was jerked away. A long red clawed hand forcibly held her hand under running water.

She winced and tried to jerk away but it was useless. “Let me go Alastor, I have to take these down to the ballroom.”

He gave her an incredulous, unimpressed look. With a snap everything she was going to take disappeared and Mia groaned. His hand squeezed her wrist, “I’m merely lending you a hand! No need to discombobulate yourself! You’re entirely too careless for such a weak creature. How do you manage?”

Mia sneered. That comment stung as much as her palm because it was all too true. “Poorly, it seems.”

“Indeed it does! Even now you’re not paying attention. Unfathomably neglectful to your own mortality. ”

That word came out too purposefully for her taste. Mia’s stomach twisted, eyes growing wide. It was too late to meter her expressions though. She’d paused too long, gone too quiet, and now he knew.

The world slowed as Alastor’s smile curled over his teeth. Crimson eyes narrowed to slits, starting to glow as blackness twinged around them. What f*cking piece of sh*t he was. What a whiplashing, self serving asshole he was. Up and down. Back and forth. Friend and foe.

Alastor leaned in, pinning her hand into the sink. A claw from his free hand inched much too close to her face. Instead of taking the harassment or waiting for someone to stumble in, she retaliated. Mia swung her free fist trying to hook his jaw. It was a miserable attempt as he caught it with ease.

“Scrappy thing aren’t you? You’d have to be. A frail human trying to make it in Hell. Tell me Miss Miller,” his hands tightened on hers, “Do you truly believe playing with imps and hellhounds will protect you?”

“You f*cking follow me?!” She wanted to scream for Gabriel, but then what? Give Alastor the true death, be carted off, die, then more apathy in lives barely lived … What was worse? Being constantly in danger with no guarantee she’d do anything but die or give in and wait to die? The end game seemed the same.

“I am a gracious employer who makes sure his assets are secure. I’m willing to reconsider your bargain … for a reasonable price.” He made her feel small and weak.

Her very human fear and imagination ran wild but he had more to lose than she did. He had to. Overlord or not, he didn’t know what she did. Just as she hadn’t nearly five months ago.

Mia thought of the massive blue satyr with a giant cleaver and Gemma mangled to a pulp. That day where her blinders were ripped off. Now she stood angry. “God you think you’re clever? You want me to trade my body for you to eat? Let me tell you a secret. I’m careless, fine, but at least I’m not clueless. You don’t know anything. Consider my offer rescinded.”

Alastor was quiet, actually listening perhaps. Her bravado was full force but it couldn’t mask the uncertainty in her voice. “Get on with it. There are worse monsters than you.”

Then came that annoying laugh. It grated on her ears with distorted static. Mia even thought she heard faint wails and screams in the noise. “Of course there are, ma jolie proie! But what would you know of monsters?”

“You’re on borrowed time Radio Demon. Tick tock.” She mocked, relieved to hear voices finally coming down the hall.

The threat didn’t phase him. As steps drew closer he spun her about and under his shoulder. Mia had seen him usher Charlie about in the same manner. Always willing to disrupt the personal space of others but it was a war crime to touch him. His farce would look perfectly, annoyingly normal. Behind her back her wrists were restrained by a shadow.

Charlie skipped into the kitchen, hair done up in space buns and wearing childlike pink, galaxy pattered pajamas. Vaggie wore an oversized black sweater and leggings with her hair pulled back. While Mia was glad Gabriel hadn’t stumbled in, the scenario was just as awkward for her. Not so much for Alastor.

“Why my charming demon belle! Vagatha! We were just on our way for the those musical picture shows! Our chef and I were just discussing some new cookery. These new fangled pans have no seasoning! We would do well to invest in some sturdy cast iron.”

The girls exchanged looks and Vaggie asked Mia directly, “Is he bothering you?”

“Vagatha, ever so suspicious of me! How could I not take interest-” She cut him off with a raised hand and a growl. “I was asking her, Alastor. She’ll answer.”

He gave Mia a sickeningly sweet smile, pulling her into his side tighter. A clawed hand swept about, as if telling her to go on. She elbowed him and his eye just barely twitched, the shadow releasing her hands. One arm wrapped around his waspy waist, making a point to rub his side, while she patted the one on her shoulder. A record player screeched through the room and she could feel his cat like bristling.

Good. He deserved to be uncomfortable. Charlie and Vaggie were visibly confused, sharing an adorable head tilt.

“This tin can doesn’t bother me more than anyone else I suppose! But yeah, I was thinking of looking at some different cook ware. I’ve heard of people using cast iron, but never used it. Seems outdated and gross.” Mia took the opportunity to pull away from him, slipping in between her niece and pseudo niece.

“Oh no what happened to your hand?!” Charlie exclaimed. The burnt hand was now neatly bandaged with the tell-tale wet mark of ointment.

“I was being careless. Just dumb luck. Let’s go. I want to start with Mary Poppins. Charlie you’re going to love it!” Mia all but rushed the two out of the kitchen.

From behind them she flipped Alastor off. At first when she came to Hell, he hadn’t seemed entirely evil. Kind of awful, but not worth hating. Now he was. Bullying. Condescending, Manipulative. Cruel. If he wanted an enemy, she’d give him one.

Chapter 19: Halloween

Chapter Text

Mia
Charlie’s Balcony
Next Cleanse: 276

“They really love Halloween,” Mia observed, standing on the balcony with Charlie, watching their section of the sprawling metropolis. The few streets they could see were decorated and gored to the brim. Demons were dressed up as if it were already Halloween.

Charlie leaned onto the stone, happy to be watching her people go on about their day. “Demons love Halloween! It holds a lot of cultural significance to some populations and the modern ones just go all out for the last week of October as a means to party. I’m hoping we could do the same thing!”

With a Cheshire grin, Mia squished their arms together. “So Princess, I take it a couple’s costume is in order?”

The girl’s red dots were covered now with a wider band of pink, hands fiddling with the hem of her jacket. “This is our first holiday season together as a couple. With the hotel and how wonderful she’s been and so supportive … I want everything to be perfect! More than perfect! She works so hard, Auntie. I’ve never met anyone like Vaggie actually. Her life …”

Mia patted Charlie’s back, understanding the pressure of trying to make someone happy. Though, she was glad Charlie’s situation was different from hers. “It’s ok. No matter what or how or why, she’s here with you. Vaggie has the kind of grit that magic can’t compete with. We’re going to make it great. Do you know what country she’s from?”

Charlie nodded excitedly, “El Salvador! I even started learning Spanish! And Halloween is her birthday. We don’t do birthday’s in Hell, but I want to.”

“Ok, let’s do it.” Mia grinned and gave her a thumbs up. “Get me a list of her favorite foods, anything and everything. We’ll have a bash. A spooktactular for the ages!”

Charlie gave her a puppy dog look and she knew this wouldn’t end well for her. Like Lucifer, she felt compelled to dote on the girl. “Since you know about these things and Earth, do you think you could help Al with the decorations? I want this to stay a surprise for now and they don’t really talk if I’m not there.”

Talk to Alastor …

On one hand, Gabriel was still on the premise so that asshole couldn’t touch her. On the other hand, one day Gabe would be gone and she wouldn’t know for how long. Hell’s atmosphere was already starting to agitate him again so it wouldn’t be long. Forcing a smile, she nodded. “Of course, I’ll take care of it!”

———

Mia
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 268

Mia sat around in the lobby after the dinner cleanup, tucked in the armchair reading a book. With Gabriel gone again for who knows how long, she didn’t need to stay cooped up in her room. It felt like a waste to sleep even though it was well past midnight. The peace and quiet was glorious considering the screaming and fighting lately. Everything started to feel more like a looney bin as the days went by.

In an instant her book disappeared, “Hey!”

Looking up she found Alastor holding the paper back, grinning like the maniac he was.

Oh f*ck this.

“I’m not in the mood for your shenanigans Alastor,” she groaned. He ignored her, eyeing the cover, then read the backside synopsis.

Delicately, he flipped through the book. His grin widened and he motioned with mock flattery. “Taken a shine to serial killers have we?”

“I like that book. I like a lot of books and Hannibal Lecter is probably the most famous fictional serial killer to date. How have you not heard of it? I get it’s past your time, but surely you’re not that antiquated.” Mia sat firm, arms crossed and slate faced. There would be no room to give into his bullsh*t.

“Well, you do seem to have proper tastes in literature and music to date, so read it for me!”

Mia scoffed and nestled down into the chair further. She thought of how many days it had been since she’d sang him to sleep. The darkness under his eyes was telltale. This felt like a ploy or a game or a trap. “No.”

“No? My dear, I wasn’t asking.” His faced turned predatory and it sent a chill down her spine. Still, she didn’t flinch and her wings thankfully couldn’t give it away being tucked against the chair.

“I wasn’t offering, my dear. Now give my book back and leave me alone. I’m off the clock and you’re being a right pain in the ass.”

He snapped his fingers and now they were sitting next to each other on the couch. Her eyes rolled as she sneered, “Why are you trying to annoy me?”

“Oh sweetheart! You find my presence a nuisance? That burns quite deep! Surely if you were to give me something I wanted, I might leave you in peace.” She stood up, deciding her book wasn’t worth it. Only four steps in and he snapped her right back onto the couch. Her jaw hardened as he looked utterly pleased with himself.

Mia tried again, making it seven steps before he magicked her back.

“This! This is what makes you annoying! You’re such a bully.”

His laughter filled the room and she rubbed her face with frustration. Now should couldn’t read or sleep.

Playfully, he started, “Perhaps you might consider-”

Mia held up a hand. She’d been so caught in her head lately, that she actually forgot to think. He was here to annoy her. He was here to somehow, someway coax her into being eaten. Sure, he could chomp down on her and call it a day, but he probably wanted the satisfaction of winning.

Alastor grinned, mocking her, “Is the little human-”

Before he could finish that statement she lunged, clamping her hands over his mouth. “Christ on a stick, will you shut up?! Why would you say that out loud?”

Alastor snarled and pushed her backwards into the floor. Without getting up he placed a foot on her back between her wings and pressed hard enough to keep her there. He leaned forward, an arm draped over his knee. Mia couldn’t reach any part of him and was officially stuck. “You’d do well to mind your manners Miss Miller. Perhaps Baxter wasn’t mistaken if you’re so willing to throw yourself at men.”

That one burned.

Considering he’d been actually kind to her that evening, it hurt. That was her fault though, for mistaking his kindness for anything more than manipulation. He must have counted on her feeling indebted to him. And she did, but Mia wouldn’t let herself act on it.

She folded her arms under her head, contenting herself with being a rug. He put her on edge. Made her jumpy and thoughtless. Between being cruel and handsome, and she really hated admitting that, it was hard to ignore him.

Silence settled in. At least five minutes passed before she tilted her head, finding him engrossed in her book. Mia grinned despite her precarious position saying, “You could at least read it out loud.”

There was a snap and she was once more on the couch, this time with a glass of whisky and a blanket. She took a drink and bundled up as he started with the very first page.

“…For Mercy has a human heart,
Pity a human face,
And Love, the human form divine,
And Peace, the human dress”

Before he could read the second verse, she quoted from memory:

“Cruelty has a Human Heart
And Jealousy a Human Face
Terror, the Human Form Divine
And Secrecy, the Human Dress

The Human Dress, is forged Iron
The Human Form, a fiery Forge
The Human Face, a Furnace seal’d
The Human Heart, its hungry Gorge”

“William Blake,” he noted as his entire face turned thoughtful on her.

She shrugged. “I really like this book series. There’s a couple sequels to it.”

With that he continued on and she nestled into a ball as far as possible from him. The drink was warm in her stomach and she felt genuinely peaceful. As troublesome as he was, she couldn’t deny his natural talent. She could see how he’d been a radio host. Drifting off, she’d completely forgotten to mention the Halloween decorations.

———

Mia
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 266

Mia bounced and danced her way down to the ballroom, wearing a blue Star Trek uniform. Their elaborate Halloween bash start soon.

Charlie and Vaggie were still upstairs getting ready so she was texting them any updates. In the ballroom she found Alastor standing on the stage, actually dressed in a costume. All the decorations were elaborate, spooky, and opulent. It was almost something she’d expect from Lucifer.

With a strained smile, she headed for the sound system, “It looks great in here.”

While fussing with the cables and installing the playlist, she glanced back to look at his costume.

Mia swallowed, grateful how her skin color shielded what would normally be a deep blush. Even for an evil asshole, he looked fantastic in the vampiric get up. An attractive, evil asshole. His hair was pulled back but the front tendrils were long. He wore a dramatic cape and a suit with gilded trim and ruffles. Instead of his typical monocle, he wore old timey round glasses that situated on his nose.

God help her, men in glasses were a weakness.

Alastor caught her staring and flashed a wicked grin. He flourished his cape around to face her. Rivulets of blood, probably real blood, were strategically smeared about his mouth.

“Thank you! I take great pride in my ability to host a party. I see you’ve decided on a new costume. This one is much less convincing … And what is it?” He quipped.

“Haha funny.” She put her hands on her hips, “Star Trek science officer circa 2365.”

He looked unimpressed and disappointed despite smiling. “It is utterly unimaginative and ruins the aesthetic I’ve worked so diligently for.”

Her cheeks puffed, “Excuse me, Nosferatu.”

“Why I saw that picture show in 1929!”

Finally the tracks started playing.

Alastor snapped and Mia felt shifting. She looked down and found her entire outfit changed into an elaborate, whimsical witch costume with a big hat. Before she could reprimand him, he grabbed her hand, pulling her about the stage into a twirl. Instead of falling over, she fell into step with his movements. Half of it was muscle memory, the other half was that between the opulent decor and his enchanting attire, she couldn’t help herself.

“It’s witchcraft ~” Crooned Frank Sinatra as they danced.

Mia giggled throughout the twirling, enjoying it too much. For the moment, she didn’t want to be mad, because he truly was a fantastic dancer. Along with the track she sang,

“Wicked witchcraft~
And although I know it's strictly taboo!
When you arouse the need in me
My heart says yes indeed in me
Proceed with what your leading me to”

Her eyes went wide as Alastor picked up the next verses, because if he truly adhered to nothing after the 1930s, he couldn’t have known Old Blue Eyes.

“It's such an ancient pitch
But one that I would never switch
'Cause there's no nicer witch than you”

He booped her on the nose and she had to look away. Alastor spun her out as the song ended. They were met with a flurry of applause as everyone had finally meandered into the ballroom. He jerked her into a deep bow. Mia pulled her hand away, but smiled and waved to everyone.

Nodding to an ever charming Alastor, she hopped off the stage to wish Vaggie a happy birthday and to get the cake she’d made.

Everyone from the hotel and a few extra guests showed up. Angel had brought an Australian girl called Cherri with him. Some of the patrons had guests too but otherwise, it was a well rounded group. The evening went beautifully. The dancing, games, singing, food … it all left Vaggie beaming.

Charlie did an amazing job on the costumes. Charlie was dressed and made up to the nines as the Mad Hatter and Vaggie looked absolutely adorable as Victorian-esque Alice.

Husk was running around with a pirate’s hat and sword around his bare waist. Cherri and Angel were dressed as a mobster and starlet, respectively. Nifty was flapping about dressed like a bat, no doubt to compliment Alastor’s vampire. The majority of Mia’s time was spent making sure everything went smoothly and everyone was well behaved. She didn’t mind keeping busy as it kept her away from Alastor and it made certain that her nieces were finally getting a break.

Later on in the night, Mia rushed into the kitchen to make more punch. Just how much could sinners drink? She’d made four vats and every drop was gone. All of it except the one cup she’d snuck away.

Did it really taste that good?

The blue, shimmery liquid did taste sweet and almost spicy. She’d out done herself for sure. Before returning to her job, she chugged the rest. Charlie requested zero booze since there was no doubt people would sneak in their own or head for the bar.

Lights flickered and a faint tinny noise, like screeching metal, echoed. With the sounds of revelry still coming from the ballroom she shrugged it off. Five minutes later the floor turned frost bitten and the lights went out completely.

She groaned, adding the final ingredients the vat. Sure it was annoying but she couldn’t be mad at a little holiday prank. “Oh come on! I get it’s Halloween, but I am trying to get the drinks out! So unless you want to work while I party, f*ck off with the lights!”

Even as the room turned cold, she rolled her eyes. Just because someone wanted to be annoying and make her life a little harder wasn’t enough to get upset over. Hell required thick skin. Sweating the small things would drive a person insane.

Pushing the cart back down the hall, she didn’t entirely notice there was no sound coming from the ballroom except for the blaring playlist.

Once inside she stopped dead.

Everyone was either passed out or having a one person party in their head. Charlie and Vaggie were snuggled up in a booth giggling softly, petting the other’s head. Nifty was out cold on top of a muttering Angel and snoring Husk. Mimzy sang while laying down on the stage half out of her mind, grabbing at the air above her.

“Holy- what the … ” Mia stepped around the intoxicated bodies, double checking that they were ok.

Thankfully, everyone seemed fine. Considering their mass euphoria, they were having a much better time than she was. One thing connected everyone: the punch.

Who did this?

Music distorted in and out. Mia jumped, stumbling over Travis’s leg, doing her best to stay silent. Creepy bullsh*t was not her specialty. There was a clear culprit in her mind and she became as angry as she was spooked.

This had Alastor written all over it.

No one else could want to ruin a party. No one else want to single her out and ruin her day. “f*ck you tough guy! You are a piece of sh*t for pulling something like this. They worked so hard, and now you just want to ruin Vaggie’s birthday?! I get trying to screw up my life, sure! But this is childish, even for you! Alastor, get your f*cking ass out here right now!”

Silence.

It took a good twenty minutes to get everyone upright and comfortable. Her doing it was entirely unnecessary. They were demons and couldn’t die even if they did choke on vomit. It was just her human fear trying to keep her busy, telling her if she just stayed in the ballroom everything would be fine. Just fine.

Metallic shrieking rang out again.

But worse.

Something stood in the doorway now. A creature more grotesque and horrifying than she’d thought Hell capable of.

The creature was nearly fifteen feet tall with a large sac on its back end, pulsing, squelching, and shivering. Its body was like a praying mantis with two long, sharp serrated arms. Legs to match. A head wide like a hammer-head shark where stitched, stretched faces turned into a flap like mouth that looked like lily petals of teeth.

Mia suddenly wished it was Alastor there to eat her alive. Anything but that.

At this point, she would be over the moon for that scenario. The disgusting creature picked around the room sniffing and chittering. Searching. Every step it took left a venomous purple ice behind.

She’d ducked behind a table on the far wall, next to the stage, trying to keep diagonal with the horror and tried to remember her training. Thinking of the key Lucifer gave her, all she needed to do was make it to a closed door and knock three time.

Maybe she could make a bolt for it. Even if it saw her, as long as it didn’t catch her …

“SKRYHHHHH,” it hissed as an unsuspecting Travis wiggled a limp arm.

In less than half a second it was over him, venom seeping from its mouth as a long arm almost pierced him. Its head twitched, hissing and sniffing. Then it continued scanning through the bodies. Carefully, she took off the obnoxious costume’s hat and jingling bits as best she could, biting down the almost violent tremor in her hands. Every part of her shook with terror actually. But she bumped a table leg, causing an ever so slight clink.

That was enough. As if it were made of lightning, now it was on her side of the room.

The creature smelled like smoke and sulfur and a sickening perfume. Mia wanted to gag but she bit on her hand instead. It inspected the table next to her, sniffing at Crymini who sat dazed and unblinking.

A glass goblet was nearly half a foot from the tablecloth’s edge. If she could just grab it and toss it, distract that thing, maybe she could make it to the door.

But which door? Which door was closest and closed?

The only one she could think of was Charlie’s office, past the kitchen, the lobby, and then after a left, it was the first door on the right. For f*ck’s sake why was that the closest closed door? She thought of the pantry but something about the confined space of the kitchen seemed worse. Too many small time sinking movements.

No. One hard dash for the office would do. One straight, fast line. The thing was huge and would struggle in the hallway. She could do it. She had to do it.

Normally, Mia felt brave or justified in her actions. Like when she’d tried to charge the satyr. Punting Stanislav. Stabbing Baxter. All of those things were different though, and seemed worlds away now.

Without another thought she threw the glass as hard as she could behind the ugly beast. It whirled around, scurrying thankfully, but then it spat tiny balls of goopy fire, one landing expertly on the rolling goblet.

Mia bolted, clamoring loudly, knocking over a table. She didn’t look back as something scorched across her hip. The pain was like nothing she’d ever known, as if she was being seared from the inside out. It even dripped down her ass, to her leg, as she propelled herself forward.

Today she’d gravely miscalculated. The sticky, venomous flame made her near paralytic on the right side.

Oh no, maybe that wasn’t it?

She remembered the singular cup of punch she’d stole away. The drugged punch. The punch maybe not drugged by Alastor. How could she feel so much pain, but so tingly?

Somehow her brain was on fire, processing faster than she’d ever been able to. Behind her she could hear it catch against the wall from being taller than the ballroom’s entry way. Those five extra seconds were a blessing. She couldn’t make it to the office anymore. But maybe the front door? It was closer. It gave the creature more wiggle room, but she had to beat it.

Her glaive … There was no way for her to pull on the magic to unravel the weapon. Every time she tried, it felt like handling oil slicked worms on top of the growing drunken feeling.

“Skrykt-t-t-ck,” it yowled, closing in behind her. In a stumble she pulled down the grandfather clock and it made an ungodly clang.

“Arghhhhhhh!” Mia wailed, being jerked back with a sickening rip. She rolled several times before colliding with the wall. It chittered delightedly when finally seeing her, instantaneously piling on top of her. Both of its dagger-like arms skewered her to the floor.

Mia beat her fists wildly against the spear like limb. There was no give. It was like beating on metal with a pool noodle. Unseen spikes and edges shredded at her skin in the process.

Due to it having such a sickly pale complexion, even in the dim glow, she could see her blood travel up the grooves of its arms. It purred while its face flaps sucked and lapped at the streams of her blood.

The thing started muttering in joy. “Seetwe bird-bird bloods. Bah-luds-luh-bah —“

Blackness collided with the pale creature. Finally the nightmare fuel was removed. Despite hemorrhaging blood and the sickening burn on her right, the body high kicked in and now the pain felt different.

Static prickled her skin. It absolutely horrified her that she found Alastor’s calling card so comforting. Even more so it felt delightful with whatever drugs danced through her. Mia vaguely thought of the crass red bastard petting on her hair. That glorious sensation was vivid in her mind.

Wasn’t something else vivid?

Her head lolled to the side, trying to focus in her stupor. Her heart picked up the pace. Pain raced over the delusional high.

The two demons went at it. Although he was no combat expert, his tricks were impressive. The thing managed to sling him across the room once. Even if he couldn’t defeat it, dying with someone was a small consolation. They could both take her secret to the grave. Well, if she died she would at least pretend he did too.

Unfortunately, the pipe dream ended as a monster’s leg was dragged into a netherworld hole. Mia watched the carnage with intrigue, appreciation, and wonder. She could feel herself giggling, but knew she shouldn’t be. The misfiring parts of her brain found it enjoyable. He was powerful and she’d never seen such a display.

Alastor glowed black and red, strange symbols and shadow creatures filling the air. A snake like skeleton even slithered atop her. Mia limply tried to swat at it as exposed vertebrae brushed the gaping holes in her stomach. An inkling of it wriggling into her started to consume her.

Was it?

Was she just imagining it?

Mia wondered where a sudden high pitched noise came from. Looking at Alastor and the creature, neither were shrieking. Focusing was impossible as the world added and subtracted on itself in her eyes.

She writhed wildly, trying to get the hallucinated invader out. Her hands scraped at her gashed body. The feeling of hot, sticky blood reminded her the she was making that heinous sound.

Mia’s left leg could still move and kicked furiously. Wrong decision. Her heart ached.

Her empty stomach lurched but all she hacked up was blood, soaking another spot on the floor. This was it.

She was a dead girl.

Mia trembled, panicked as the next level of hemorrhagic shock set in. Confusion. Pain. Mania. That fluttering in her chest. Heaving, barely able to see. Euphoria rolling in and out as her body couldn’t process the drugs and injuries.

More shrieking. Just not hers. The disgusting creature was furious, raging toward Mia. Massive sections of its body were gone.

Where was Alastor?

Where was he?!

Had … did he … she couldn’t see him. The voodoo symbols were gone from the dark room. Had she hallucinated him?

“ALASTOR!” She screeched, high and harsh and loud. The thing’s head clicked as it heaved and chittered. Her shaking worsened. Her jaw tremored, causing her fangs cut her tongue and lips.

Sewn together faces and five mismatched eyeballs observed her. The creature was confused. Why did it have to be semi-intelligent? More head clicking as it gestured to itself, speaking in that broken way, “Eh-hem-puhsssah. Bird-die suhwheet-ta-eet, blah-ha-uds.”

Oh god … it thought she was talking to it. What more horror could she withstand?

A demonic blackness snaked around her from the floor and the wall. At least the magic was warm. Mia was freezing, arms and legs numb. Her teeth chattered away as if they would crack. Its maw opened wide, dripping venom onto her front. Seared flesh filled her nostrils as it went through her skin to the bone. Before it could skewer her again she was sucked into nothingness.

Just as the lobby faded away, the creature was dragged into a separate void, but one that emanated the screams and sounds of eternal suffering.

Chapter 20: Deal

Chapter Text

Alastor
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 266

The impromptu dancing was entirely delightful. He loved a good party which was why he went as far as dressing up. While the holiday meant nothing to him, the revelry did. Perhaps he’d make the shades play as a live band …

Nifty had done a splendid job in helping him conjure a costume. It was dramatic. Regal. Commanding. Hilarious how she’d immediately insisted he be a vampire. Alastor found that idea perfect given his current aspirations. During the evening he shared a dance with Nifty, swirling her around in the air like a child.

The only other suitable dance partners were Charlie and Miss Miller. Charlotte was certainly preoccupied with Vagatha and Miss Miller ignored him for the rest of the evening. To think of all the hard work he’d put into the soiree and not so much as a jive! Modern manners were abhorrent.

Alastor excused himself from the party, returning to his office for a smoke.

Once there he cracked open a window and conjured a glass of red wine. The Bandol region of France produced his most beloved reds, having a fruitful, gamey flavor. Truly divine in his humble opinion and perfect for every occasion.

Alastor took a long draw of his cigar. She’d confirmed being human in not so many words. The daft girl hadn’t even tried to deny it! He swirled the wine around, watching the crimson dance.

The indulgence, the chase, the entertainment, her obnoxious ability to irritate him … he could barely contain his excitement. Pinning her to the floor had been a hoot!

Miles popped up, waving at him worriedly.

“You seem keen to interrupt my resting as of late. You know what! I’m quite glad you’ve decided to pop in! Tell me, why are you so insistent on being favorable to that maddening flesh sack?”

It waved its hands around like it didn’t know what the accusation even was. Miles seemed exasperated then shrugged, making a marquee sign that read ‘ENTERTAINMENT’. Alastor wasn’t entirely satisfied with the answer but brushed it off. Sometimes Miles had his own jokes and perhaps this was one of them.

“What is it this time?”

Smaller shadows came out to mimic the guests falling over with little ‘z’s above their heads. Others twirled about.

Alastor raised an eyebrow, “What would you expect? It’s all apart of having a good shindig!”

Miles shook his head and tapped on his wrist then conjured a shadow clock. While the party had been going on for a couple hours, it wasn’t to the point where demons would have enough time to become utterly intoxicated, especially with Charlie’s prohibition. Alastor stood up, not seeing a reason to rush.

“If you insist, old friend.” Miles reattached to his body and they strolled down the stairwell. Once on the ground floor, he noticed how impossibly cold it was. Alastor entered the ballroom’s side door, caught off guard by the strange site. Not only was everyone indeed out, but a glass smoked and sizzled.

A large disgusting, bulbous thing exited the ballroom’s main entrance with a crash and squall. Quickly he took stock of everyone and noticed his snack missing. The ungodly clang of a smashing clock rang loud enough to make his ears flatten. Alastor rushed to the lobby.

Before he could stop it, the beastly demon took a long, saber-like arm and pierced through Miss Miller’s wings, jerking her backwards. The delicate material ripped in half and she lost most of one instantly.

Curiosity got the better of him and he waited in a shadow. With all the demons in the ballroom, this ugly thing had singled out the human.

Would her disguise disappear now? His grin stretched thin. He was torn between unearthing her secrets and being her unsung hero once more. She was terribly ungrateful to him … Perhaps this was the leverage he needed.

But as it ran the two blade like arms into her and went to licking at her blood, he moved. To think of sharing his prey …

That angered him beyond recognition. Alastor hated others touching him. Touching his food.

Touching anything his.

“Seetwe bird-bird bloods. Bah-luds-luh-bah —“, it said as a black tentacle ripped it off the poor human.

Sweet bird blood.

Alastor didn’t understand what it meant. It didn’t matter. He was furious and involuntarily so. Her lying battered and bloody on the floor brought back a memory. An old, sickening, rage inducing memory.

His demonic shadows started tearing into the ant-like, gruesome being. Not only did he want to slaughter it, he wanted to thoroughly torture it.

Some of the shades took their time in being sad*stic. With the exception of Miles, the shades were souls he’d devoured, contracted, or entirely subdued. There were thousands of years of anguish and cruelty between them all.

The monster kept spitting globules of fire and venom. He’d parried too close and its arm swatted him into the wall. The shadows absorbed his impact. Giggling filled the room and his head snapped in Miss Miller’s direction.

Tonight’s festivities were most certainly drug induced. He stood close enough to see just how hurt she was. The demonic shade of her skin was turning ashy and her eyes were glazed over far beyond her misty stare.

Black tendrils held down the creature and he took a hard rake of his extended claws through the leg, letting it be dragged to his shadow world.

Even as it writhed and cowered before him, he couldn’t stop staring at her. There was so much to take in. He wanted to stare forever. The blood. The mess. How she looked at him regardless of it all, laughing. Why couldn’t all his kills give him such adoring stares in their time of terror?

The telltale signs of death started to overtake her as he worked on dismembering the opponent. Frost burst throughout the room. Alastor dissolved into a shadow. Everything around him turned to ice.

“ALASTOR!”

That sound pierced through his heart.

Plenty of souls screamed his name in anger, fear, annoyance, even excitement. But this, the sharp sound of a woman screaming for him. He could almost imagine his mother on the hallway floor, a heavy bruise forming on her cheek. Once upon a time, she’d called out in the same way. Screamed for him to come to her, terrified he was gone.

His distraction was enough time for it to sail for her.

Alastor materialized, his shadows curling up and around her body. In an attempt to stop the impending hypothermia and prevent anymore blood loss, the blackness compressed. Alastor dragged her into his void and the monster into the depths of his personal hell.

Now all was eerily calm. His hand moved to her neck. The pulse was nearly nonexistent. With another push of magic he brought them back to his home. Alastor laid her on the couch, shadows wrapping her firm, while summoning the potions he’d acquired from Rosie.

“Come now Chèr, you’ll have to swallow unless you fancy becoming one of us,” he teased, uncorking a bottle.

He watched as her head lolled over with a weak grin. “Heh,” was all she panted out. His hand waved in front of her face but she didn’t register it. She was beyond consciousness.

Cradling her head, he tipped some of the bottle’s contents into her mouth, waiting for her to swallow. Her jaw loosened and the liquid spilled past her lips. Alastor considered himself royally f*cked in that moment, perhaps literally if her death was pinned on him. Urgently he bade, “Swallow it you belligerent child!”

There was no response. Officially out. He tried to think of all the things he knew.

Killing people was his specialty. Keeping them alive? Not so much. A stupid television commercial replayed in his mind from one of his strolls. It advertised new techniques for things he despised. One of those wretched, abhorrent things had to do with gagging.

If she’d not already lost so much blood, he wouldn’t mind jamming a claw down her throat, even if it did cut the inside. The potion would have mitigated that. But now, such a small thing could snuff her out on the spot.

Another thought popped into his head, one of Angel’s quips about bodily conquests. Alastor’s stomach turned with legitimate nausea. Still, it was his last option. Had he been a godly man, he would have crossed himself.

He poured the remaining contents of the bottle into his mouth. With one hand on her jaw and the other behind her ears, he pried her mouth open. Quickly he used his tongue to press on the back of her throat. She convulsed, but he gripped harder, holding her mouth onto his. The gagging opened her throat enough and she swallowed the contents. Then he poured magic onto her body to activate the concoction.

Alastor had no healing abilities. Those were rare and nearly unheard of in Hell. Only Hellborns could manage such a feat, and even then they primarily had the magic to craft and concoct potions. Rosie was an accomplished potions mistress, thankfully.

This one dosage was enough to stabilize her. Alastor stopped as she started sweating and coughing. She was far too weak to take all the magic healing at once. With another snap he moved them to the same hotel room he’d slept in. Keeping the girl in his home seemed ill-advised.

Summoning Miles from his person, he added, “I’ll return shortly.”

Returning to the hotel ballroom, all were still heavily intoxicated.

Today certainly pushed the limits of his spatial magic, but no matter, he could handle it. His form twisted and grew with the dark magic of his soul. Sigils marked throughout the hotel, shades winding and suiting his needs. It felt good to let loose. Sometimes he nearly forgot how deep his magic ran. He neither knew nor cared how such a force became carved into him.

With Miles babysitting and all the hotel’s residents delivered to their rooms, he went to reinspect the lobby. Utterly disastrous. The smell from the creature was acrid and sulfuric. Nifty would have had a fit. A chunk of the bar was missing. Miss Miller’s blood nearly painted the room. Too bad it wasn’t fresh …

With a snap he returned the hotel to proper order. For once he felt old, tired, and a tad less certain in himself.

———

Mia
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 265

Mia came to. Music softly sounded through the room. It was pleasant compared to the throbbing of her head and rigidness of her body. She went to sit up but there was a gentle pressure on her shoulder. Miles took a semi-corporeal form, making sure that she stayed properly in bed.

“That is not advisable, Miss Miller.”

She eyed the ghostly companion, happy to see it, but not so much to see Alastor in the background. Now she wasn’t certain she could trust Miles. Maybe the shadow was just a ruse …

“It seems you may very well know about monsters. Enlighten me. Why is a human being hunted in Hell?”

Her mouth screwed shut with a groan. The pain crept back up. Grateful wasn’t the word she would use to describe this situation but she wasn’t upset at being alive either.

“Not feeling talkative today? It’s all the same to me. My duty is to this establishment. Take your time resting,” he said nonchalantly. “In the mean time I need to inform my betters about this unfortunate circ*mstance.”

That got her attention. With a squeak of pain she pushed forward, arm reaching out. “No! Gah- No -huff- … P- lease.”

Alastor stood at the foot of the bed, grinning, head tilted with satisfaction. “Oh? Is there a reason? You’ve caused me quite the conundrum. Surely your presence in Hell is a cosmic mistake. You’re of no benefit here, Miss Miller.”

She smacked the bedding in frustration, wincing all the while. Now she was heaving. The small exertions were too much for her body. Dizziness set in as Miles once more helped her backwards.

“How are you able to maintain that disguise?” He inquired.

Again, silence. Alastor shrugged, turning for the door once more.

“My blood! No-ah-t my secrets,” she wheezed.

“Tsk-tsk. Being stubborn aren’t we”, he countered, glancing over his shoulder.

Her eyes turned on him. Speaking was becoming harder by the second. “Choose or l-lose buh-oth.”

She was officially willing to make a deal. His smile was wicked, but noncommittal. Maybe he was tired from fighting the Empusa. Maybe watching her bleed out got his rocks off. Who could say?

“A deal,” she ragged out, barely hanging on. The world faded between sweet, peaceful darkness and the agony of her body, “to make a deal.”

Alastor grabbed her hand as a venomous green vortex danced around them. “A deal to make a deal.”

Fighting back the pain was impossible now and she just wanted to sleep. At least, if she did die, she had tried hanging onto this life.

———

This time she woke up to an empty, silent room.

He officially saved her. Again. Mentally she tallied up her bill with him. The numbers made it hard to remember he was a narcissistic, bored bastard and playing the hero fit his M.O. It was the perfect way to disarm someone like her. Someone weak.

This annoyed her no matter how grateful she was. What bothered her was how that creature certainly didn’t belong to Hell. An Empusa. Gemma had a great grasp of mythological creatures and literature. They’d gotten on the topic of vampires once and then navigated to various blood obsessed things.

Sweet bird blood.

Mia shivered. That was proof it was hunting her. How had these faceless foes learned her whereabouts? That loomed worse than her impending misery.

And then if Alastor knew the truth … Did he know? Was it normal for mortal souls to know about Pagans? Definitely not. Lucifer wouldn’t take such pain staking measures to keep it from Charlie otherwise.

There weren’t enough cards in her hand. Being dependent and helpless felt disgusting. Being a sitting target felt worse. She was human, and while tasty, she was useless. The literal weakest link for Lucifer and Gabriel. Her failures would hurt them first.

What a f*cked situation … to be willingly cannibalized. To let Alastor salivate over her like a steak then eat her. Apparently demons ate humans often enough and only because they were delicious. Only angelic blood could bestow bizarre and tantalizing gifts, Vassago had once told her.

Even though it hurt, Mia snorted and laughed. She couldn’t wait for some insane demonic puppet master to realize she was only human. Boy they were going to be pissed. Human blood. Worthless and tasty.

So here she sat, entirely unable to move due to her injuries. She’d made a deal to make a deal though. Alastor would soon hound her for his prize. At this rate, anything in Hell was liable to kill her and this was her best chance. If he kept her safe, that meant he took the heat. Not Gabe or Luci or Charlie.

And f*ck it! Alastor deserved the trouble of trying to keep her alive because she was past due. The universe was out to get her. Even if he found out, he would never be able to take more than the set amount dictated by their contract.

With a deep breath she made her choice, waiting for him to come collect.

———

Alastor
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 265

Alastor pondered while making his way back. With Charlotte and Vagatha, they investigated last night’s little debacle. Neither of the young ladies were aware that an unwelcome creature ransacked the hotel and mutilated the cook.

He sent Nifty in his stead to pretend to check on Miss Miller and give them a false account of her being terribly hungover. Nifty did inquire about the woman and he gave her a half account. Due to Miss Miller’s lack of demonic ability, he had graciously supplied her with medicine and the day off. The small demoness was more than content with that.

Most of the day was spent interrogating the party goers. All that came up was Angel spiking the drinks. After that he left the ladies to discipline the spider. Alastor wasn’t convinced though. The resident p*rn star was no devious mastermind. Which meant either someone was certainly lying or whoever knew Angel’s plans took the opportunity to hunt Miss Miller.

Yet another empty space in a strange puzzle.

He walked in to find her sitting up quite a bit more. The bone and tissue of her collar was no longer exposed as a new blue bottle sat empty next to the bed. Miles reattached with a thumbs up. An iridescent wing stuck out from under her, looking healthy. Her white hair was fussed about in all directions as she drooled in her sleep. Such unconscious disarray fit her personality well, he thought.

Alastor hovered over her, looking for anything he might of missed. There was nothing human about her appearance. Not a drop of detectable magic whatsoever. Had she truly been careful, he might have never discovered it.

Done with his inspect, he decided she’d slept long enough. Childishly he pulled on a long ear. She stirred with a grumble, foggy eyes starting to open.

“My dear! Welcome back to the land of the dead!”

Mia rubbed her face, still in a haze. “Did I die?”

Alastor perched on the edge of the bed with a laugh. “Certainly not, you maddening charlatan! No! With my charitable and selfless act, you live to see another Hellish day! You’re welcome sweetheart!”

“Right. Selfless,” she groaned, pulling back the covers and moving to stand up.

“And where might you be going?”

His tone indicated that she surely wasn’t going to skip out on their deal. Her face was incredulous. Miss Miller went to the attached bathroom, and before slamming it, exclaimed, “Well, if you’re so inclined to know, the bathroom! To pee! Nosy jackass.”

His face froze, regretting asking. As she came back out he stood at the window. The entirety of bodily functions was just … No, he didn’t like to think about it.

Several minutes passed and he could feel her eyes on his back. Before he could summon the courage to look at her after such a disturbing comment, she said, “I guess you aren’t interested in negotiating?”

He spun about with a smirk, able to discard his bashfulness. “What do you think there is to negotiate? I’ve saved your life and your secrets. Surely you’re inclined to share both.”

“No,” she spat, standing like a wall.

Alastor rolled his eyes and closed the distance between them in two long steps. He leaned over her, grinning, but also looking unamused. “I’ll give you my blood, but I am taking zero questions, permanently.”

“And what do you suggest, ma jolie proie? There are other ways to acquire human flesh and blood in Hell.”

This time she grinned and he wanted to humiliate that look right off her face. Alastor tried to envision the things she knew. Secrets valuable to the point she’d rather be devoured.

Alastor plopped back down on the bed and summoned himself a cup of coffee. Her eyes became fixated on the hot drink.

With a scoff, he snapped another one into her hands. The delight on her face was instantaneous as she took a long drink. The girl’s shoulders melted downward and she sighed contentedly. Alastor wondered, between literature, music, and coffee, just how much they had in common.

“My blood for whatever non-magic, no-sharing, cannibalistic flights of fancy you have. No biting. A 24 hr notice. No more than once a week and no more than a pint. I do it myself. Zero flesh. In return, you ensure my safety and freedom.”

“You’ve certainly thought this through! 6 hours. Twice. I do it with a knife. And some flesh.” Alastor loved fresh meat, but what most didn’t know was that he always removed the skin.

“Do you realize that humans can only recoup a pint of blood on a six to eight week timescale?”

“I’ll merely give you some portion of the your new favorite drink,” he said, waving the empty vial.

She made a sneer.“No. Flesh. No muscle, organs, tissue, marrow, bone, cartilage, grey matter, skin, hair, wings, nails. Nada. Zip. And I’m extremely opposed to you carving me up.”

“As opposed to you being carved up by some derelict and creature? I assure you, my knife skills have no equal.” Alastor found the back and forth debating rather enjoyable, much like their first conversation on the merits of cannibalism. He put his hands up in surrender flashing an overly friendly smile. It seemed he got exactly what he wanted. “No flesh then!”

Afterwards, they discussed and bickered about what was considered protection and freedom for her. She rounded back to having Miles on retainer for her outings. “I cannot detach Miles as you see fit.”

“So you’re just going to tote me around?” She grimaced.

“How else would you experience your freedoms?” Mia groaned and fell back on the bed.

“I get that you can’t fathom the sh*t storm I’m in-”

“Because you won’t tell me,” he quipped.

“And I have zero plans to. All you need to know is that I don’t like being a hockey puck and I’d like to just … f*ck, being able to go to the market without having to worry about dying is something I dream of!”

Alastor reminisced about his childhood, having that exact same feeling once upon a time. Going to school, work, the grocer’s, home … Every step came with the potential of being singled out.

“I guess you know what I’m talking about?” She asked, observing him. Was he that obvious? Surely not, but he’d not slept and he was constantly trying to solve the riddle of her existence.

He conceded a bit of personal information, “A long time ago, yes. But now I am the apex predator and you would do well to not anger me.”

Haughtily she shrugged, “I really don’t care if you’re angry or not.”

“You should,” he insisted.

Another shrug. “Maybe, but then what? You kill me? Torture me? Go ahead. I’ve never tried to stop you.”

“And yet you claim to value your life.”

“I don’t want to die, but if you kill me …” Her grin turned wicked with knowing. “Oh I’ll just be sad to not witness the aftermath.”

“You are peculiar about your own worth Miss Miller.”

“Are we done here?” She cut.

A claw tapped his chin. “You’ll come to my office after your dinner duties every Wednesday …”

Miss Miller narrowed her eyes at him. Seeing him around so much more was going to be a hassle. “You’ve had a worse time sleeping.”

“Indeed and you are already contracted to silence.”

“I expect something in return for that.”

Alastor rolled his eyes, “And what might that be?”

“I want a couple days off every now and again … So maybe you could handle dinner once a week.”

“That seems reasonable enough. Albeit, boring,” he taunted. Mundane was too generous a word for the request.

“And sight seeing!” She added abruptly.

Alastor blinked, wondering if she’d sustained permanent brain damage from the attack. “You want to go sight seeing?”

She turned bashful. “Yeah. I’m a pretty adventurous person. Charlie said there are beaches. Musicals. I’ve never seen downtown or the clocktower. I live here now. This is my home no matter what that implies. Sure there are awful things about hell, but there are disgustingly horrible things about Earth too. And I’d like to visit Sir Pentious’s lab. Maybe see wh-”

“You know that wailing snake?” What kinds of things were happening when he wasn’t around? Alastor thought of the imbecile and how he’d make a point to crush that eyesore of a ship again.

“I met him when he came to visit … you know. And we talked and he was absolutely delightful and funny. He knew so many things about engineering and science.”

“You have terrible tastes in men, dear.”

That struck a nerve apparently. She cackled, grabbing her sides, wiping away tears. “Oh you don’t know the half of it! Tell that to G- Milton. He’s my brother but I didn’t know that when we first met.”

“That’s disgusting,” Alastor chuckled, not bothering to question how she’d not met her own brother. Suddenly the young woman seemed unbridled, laughing at an inside joke he wasn’t aware of.

She snorted, “He’s about as fun as a wet blanket now.”

“So, do we have a deal then?” He held out a green hand and she had no hesitation in taking it.

His face twisted with debauched joy. Miss Miller immediately fell fearful and Alastor felt satisfied by her disheartened expression. “Consider this your first notice, ma jolie proie.”

Chapter 21: Epaphus

Chapter Text

Epaphus
Mimzy’s
Next Cleanse: 264

Epaphus was a patient and calm man of solid demeanor. Waiting in the club Antti acquired for meetings was far from unpleasant. It was a mellow night. Only 50 or so demons ate dinner or danced to the slow, sweet jazz. He sipped at his drink, enjoying the atmosphere. In another life he could imagine bringing Memphis here to dance and gaze upon one another. Perhaps she was lost here, amongst the toiling souls?

Unfortunately, his daydream ended as soon as it began. Antti shuffled in from a side door and gave a timid wave.

The tall, dark demon laid a large bill down for his drink and followed beyond a curtain. They walked down a less than narrow hall to a plain wood door and entered. For now it was just the two of them, but there would be more soon. His recruiting efforts were going well as he made sure to keep quality vs. quantity. Quantity in Hell was worthless without power.

“How did the Empusa fair? Though I suppose you weren’t able to witness it entirely.”

“I was not Sir. As you requested I went to the party and drank the serum with everyone else. Unfortunately, the Empusa was a failure," Antti reported.

His sharp, demonic features turned curious. That seemed to make Antti nervous so he controlled his expression. Epaphus leaned back in the chair, nodding in thought, trying to appear more open. “Do you know what happened?”

“It seems that the Princess must have had no issues dealing with the creature. There was no trace of anything happening and Charlotte persists that she was also under the drug’s effect. It turns out that I was not the only guest who contaminated the punch, though. The p*rn star added quite the kick.”

The dark demon nodded solemnly. “These things cannot be anticipated. Such denizens are mindless. And you believe she’s keeping this hidden? A clever girl she is. This is useful information however. Well done.”

“Sir, I haven’t accomplished anything!” Antti’s hands bunched and tugged nervously as he jittered with anxiety.

While being a clever, safe, and intelligent doctor, he was no soldier. Antti did not have the wherewithal of a warrior.

“This information is acceptable, I assure you. The more we know, the more prepared we can be. Nephilim are rare and under studied unlike Hemitheos. We must be certain if she only takes after one parent or if she also inherited Nyx’s power as well. If Princess Charlotte has the capabilities of Nyx and Lucifer … What do Yahweh’s children call her, again?”

“Lilith, Sir. She calls herself Lilith now. It’s impossible to say what the Princess is capable of. She stands by her pacifist ideology to the point of barely using magic for anything more than paperwork or cleaning, if that.”

He had expected the beast to be easily defeated but he hadn’t expect the girl to do it covertly and with so little stress. Perhaps she was more of a warrior than suspected. No one knew what to expect of Charlotte Morningstar, but if she inherited her mother’s affinity for creation ... That made her all the more valuable to Zeus.

Nyx was the only being Zeus feared. Epaphus was certain his father’s paranoia would be their demise though.

He stood gracefully, leaving a package on the table for Antti. “Keep in touch and stay steady. Don’t forget to make friends Antti.”

Epaphus faded away like a mirage, appearing in the desolate apartment where he headed their covert operations. On a sagging couch sat Daedalus, a mortal sinner turned massive bull demon. Many of Zeus’s followers existed in Hell. Handfuls believed wholeheartedly that Lucifer was indeed Hades. Some knew better thankfully or were easily swayed to his side.

“Welcome back,” grumbled the old demon, furiously hammering away at a video game controller. He sat down next to the bull and picked up a controller. Epaphus enjoyed the digital games as well.

“How many are ready to meet?”

“Dunno, 56 give or take? There’s definitely several hundred interested. It seems some of my contacts from the lower rings know of sects that oppose Lucifer’s order. Hidden factions who prescribe to the old ways, before The Carve.”

That was promising.

Long ago, Lucifer had carved Hell into a section of their demonic realm with his fallen legion all in his new bride’s name. With that came all of Olympus’s dissenters, original demons long before they called themselves Pagans. After that, the realm of Hell grew past what the Olympians thought possible. Even the perceived threat was too much for Zeus and with so many mortal souls, their power could be limitless.

Epaphus took a long drink of Daedalus’s beer.

The history and politics of the Eldritch realm was heavy and messy. Truly, his father could f*ck off into Tartarus for all he cared, but the promise of being reunited with Memphis drove him forward on a war path. Their daughter Libya was Hemitheos, thus allowed to live in Elysium, but that was just a ruse and he knew it. Zeus would destroy her with glee.

Hera perhaps had the right idea to run, go into hiding away from their demented king. As of now, their foot soldiers were scouring every iota of the mortal realm for her. Surely she was on Earth, always obsessed with Yahweh’s creatures.

“I need another beer,” he said, heading for the kitchen.

Chapter 22: Work

Chapter Text

Angel
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 261

Maybe taking a nap after a walk and couple cigarettes would help calm his nerves.

Flipping open the black and hot pink carton, he groaned. Only two left. How were these ones going so quickly?

Actually, Angel knew how. These one’s were special. Addicting. Laced.

It didn’t matter. Their buzzing high drowned the noise. The overwhelming voice in his head. The one that endlessly and ruthlessly berated and nagged him. Told him just how …

Angel smacked his cheeks hard then stuck the cigarette in his mouth. All he needed to do was keep smoking, stop thinking, and calm the f*ck down.

Luckily no one was around given the time. In four hours he’d need to be back at the studio for a new shoot and some commercial work. Valentino made sure that his plan of piggy backing on the hotel’s absurdity went right. Earlier Vaggie finally managed to hunt him down, drag him to the office, and rip him at least three new assholes.

That bitch had a knack for biting comments.

Before the self loathing could start again, he noticed Husk. The cat was drunkenly slumped over the bar. An empty bottle rolled about next to him. Some of the last drops soaked the thick novel serving as a makeshift pillow.

The spider exhaled and grabbed the blanket off the couch. Gently he tucked it around the cat, making sure his lap and shoulders were covered with the large throw. Cats liked to be warm. Despite that, Husk looked uncomfortable still.

Angel slipped off his jacket and folded it up. With the stealth and precision of a secret agent, he replaced the book with his jacket. Much better! Immediately some of the tension on Husker’s face melted away.

Unfortunately, the book was more soaked than he’d realized.

“Poor puss* cat,” he cooed softly, giving Husk a scratch behind the ear. Husker purred, nuzzling into a deeper sleep, almost looking peaceful. An ear flicked and the long tail lashed about, almost knocking Angel over. He giggled, giving the long dark tail a soft stroke.

There wasn’t a point in trying to rest he decided. Not really. That’s what all the uppers were for anyway. Who needed sleep when synthetic speed mixed with demon magic was available? For the next hour Angel spent time getting ready while blow-drying the book pages to their original glory. What sucked was that some of the ink bled through, making the words difficult to read.

Angel stared at the cover, surprised by the title: “La Romana - Alberto Moravia.”

He frowned at the page. Some of the ink was illegible and blotched. Thankfully not enough that Angel couldn't tell what the words should have been though.

He grabbed a pen and set to work, rushing to fill back in the splotched spaces. Another hour went by but he was done. Pride flushed over him as he admired his hand work. On a whim he grabbed a pink pen and doodled a heart on the bottom of a page.

Yes, it was silly, but it was on brand for him! He’d done the same to anything else. But the smile on his face and warmth in his chest begged otherwise.

Back in the lobby, Husk was still in the same spot, snoozing away and purring. Angel laid a hand on his back, happy to find the cat perfectly warm under the blanket. There wasn’t much of a way to retrieve his jacket though.

Angel shrugged.

What did he need that dumb jacket for anyway? In exchange for the book, he swiped a top shelf bottle for the road.

He managed to make it halfway to the door before pausing, wringing his hands together. No one was around. Husky looked peaceful, soft, and warm.

Angel moved back beside the cat for just a minute. There was no guarantee he’d ever get to see Husk so serene. He laid his head next to Husk’s on the bar, smiling softly, using his long gloved fingers to pet lovingly at the cantankerous demon. Before leaving he placed a small kiss on the side of Husk’s cheek.

As he walked away, he wasn’t satisfied, but it had to be enough. It had to be enough for someone like him.

The warmth of the hotel faded as Angel moved along the driveway.

f*cking piece of sh*t hotel.

Everyone in it would be better off without him. Right? All he felt was guilt and miserable heartache.

The walk to p*rn Studios was damp and cold. It didn’t help that he’d dressed in more revealing attire. f*ck, he should have grabbed his jacket. Thankfully the booze was doing good in warming his stomach.

Did he deserve to be in agony? Probably.

To save everyone the trouble, he was gonna do his damnedest to get booted from the hotel. It wouldn’t be hard. Vaggie was voting to get rid of him since day one. At least then Val couldn’t make him humiliate them. There’s no way Valentino could override Charlie.

So that’s what he would do. Then his life would go back to normal … no more nonsense bullsh*t, goody two shoes, snotty nosed, kind-hearted, good food, warm bed hotel.

Angel didn’t need that trash. f*cking delusional brats.

What did they know about the real world? Maybe the only one onto something was Smiles.

He snickered at that. If Al was the only demon with their head screwed on straight, this really was Hell.

Once upon a time, he’d schemed to get out of Valentino’s grip. Maybe another overlord could come and wipe the pimp off Hell’s map. Maybe an angel could run a spear through that cold, cruel, undead heart.

That was what made Val successful though. Angel wished he could be as strong as Valentino, even a little bit. The power to manipulate, the cruelty to get ahead.

Val was a lot like Heronin.

Angel remembered all the times the old mobster beat and berated him for not being enough. Being too much of a pansy. It was the same now, though the cruel words against his femininity were replaced with jabs at his lack of resolve. The inability to do whatever it took. Yet another flaw, according to his old man.

But who was he to turn down protection? Fame? Demons envied him! Lusted after him! Men wanted to be with him and women wanted to be him! Being under Val meant no one less powerful could f*ck with him, well unless Big Daddy said so, and at a steep price.

So why was he so unbearably, disgustingly miserable?

Angel pulled out his phone and typed a message to Val.

Aye Daddy <3
Wut u said bout new work
I wanna try it~

———

Husker
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 259

“Where you going Legs?” Husk probed from his spot at the bar.

Angel was dressed to the nines, certainly not as slu*tty, heading out at nearly 11AM which was unheard of. The spider’s mismatched eyes gazed over the designer sunglasses, throwing a sassy look. “Got a promotion Husky, so I gotta get goin’. Don’t wait up handsome~”

What in the … ?

After Angel exited the lobby, Husk skulked over and peaked out the lobby doors. Down the driveway he watched Angel slip into a limo, hot pink smoke billowing out like monster’s breath.

A clawed paw made heavy contact with the nearest window. There was plenty of blood but f*ck it. The princess or Al could deal with it later.

Husker was officially over trying to be nice. It’d been decades since he’d given a f*ck, so why now?

Why for that ungrateful tramp?

Back at the bar he started to clean. Husk scrubbed at glasses as if he could scrub away that gurgling feeling in his stomach.

He scrubbed a glass aggressively. Stress fractures stretched and crumbled until only shards rested in his palm. Angrily he crushed the pieces, thoroughly cutting his paw pads. At least the pain was something to focus on.

There was no point in fussing over Angel. Whatever sh*t that hooker was into didn’t f*cking matter. But then again …

On his cat bed was the book Angel had tried to repair. The sentiment was nice. And sweet. A warmth spread in his chest.

Husk took a long drink, mentally combing through his non-existent situation. Gossip columns were the epitome of trash in Hell, but he knew the f*ckface running a relatively accurate one. The site followed Hell’s bourgeoisie individually and that’s where he found the headline: ‘Mister Valentino’s Superstar Bottom Bitch’.

A snarl ripped from his throat at the photo. There was Angel sitting on Valentino’s lap, holding a leash in each hand that led to other demonic hookers. It was like a sick f*cking promo. Reading the accompanying column would have made him lurch, so he didn’t. Instead he curled up under the bar, doing what he did best: drink.

Chapter 23: Pachelbel

Chapter Text

Mia
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 250

Two weeks rolled by and Mia wanted to scream.

f*cking obnoxious, pompous, old man.

On Wednesdays, she sang the radio demon to sleep. Laughable was the only way to describe the situation!

They always met in an empty hotel room. Every time she wondered about the parlor where he stitched her leg back together. It wasn’t a room in the hotel, not one she could find at least.

Sometimes they sparred verbally, but Mia took up a hardcore, laser proof, plead-the-fifth mentality. He was barred from asking her questions about her secrets, but he was frustratingly clever. So now she simply ignored his commentary.

Then there was giving him her blood.

Mia could have kicked herself. Should have!

Lastly came his incessant need to annoy her during the day. Sneaking up out of no where, pulling her into unexpected dance steps then -POOF- he was gone, hinting at her mortality around others, and making her feel like an idiot the whole way!

Cantankerous, hypocritical asshole.

She headed for the ballroom hoping to enjoy the piano. Lose herself to the motions and music and let the chaos go.

The first time she’d touched a piano had been in Europe around 1722. Thus began a love affair for the ages. Scores of memories left her itching to get the old songs out and with Gabriel gone, it was easy to do. No more hiding things, sort of.

In addition to being tormented by Alastor, was the haunting memories. While she reveled with knowing more, each one compounded a hollow, fractured feeling. Mia was more aware of how Gabriel and Lucifer saw her. A shell of herself, not an actual self contained person.

Somewhen, somewhere, somehow, she’d f*cked up.

What did she do to thoroughly piss off God?

Death never used to bother her, when all she needed to contend with were humans and science and logic. But now it loomed over like a beast. Like the Empusa, only no one could save her.

“Arrrrhhhhh-” she wailed, smushing her face into the wall.

But for now, make it to the piano. That’s all she had to do.

Typically the ballroom was empty but not so much today. The red bastard sat talking with his not so subtle lady-friend at a table.

Was this part of her punishment from God? Mia’s jaw set hard, fists clenching, wishing them away. And yet they sat, unmoving.

The pair seemed entirely amicable and platonic, despite Mimzy’s best efforts of adjusting her bosom. She'd been right before, desperate was a bad look for the demoness.

Mimzy scowled as Mia moved towards the stage, not bothering to say hi.

“We’re busy,” the woman said. Alastor merely smiled, looking at her with twisted mischief and knowing.

Mia could feel a vein ready to pop for the insufferable duo. Tightly she said, “So it seems. Well, don’t let me keep you! I’m just here to practice for a while.”

She didn’t give Mimzy a chance to retaliate or nag her any longer as she stepped up and sat at the piano. Their eyes were on her, waiting to see if she was interrupting them for nothing. Waiting to see if she was just some talentless hack.

Mia’s old friend defiance roared to life with every intention of showing them what’s what. Feeling the smooth keys under her hands wiped away the calamity in her mind, just leaving the opening of Pachelbel’s Canon.

There was a sense of being stitched whole. Kinder memories forming in her mind’s eye. Fragrant spring days in a long fallen city. Frigid winds of a northern village. Hot steam from a large massive pot of stew. But as the scenes turned foggy, so did the chords. Darker, deeper, more tortured but just as wondrous. The rendition of the classical piece took shape. Peaceful dozing morphed into a chaotic, fantastical dream that she couldn’t escape.

The pace went from a rolling boil to a simmer, giving her a chance to look around. Even though Alastor and Mimzy had moved onto the stage to watch her, she didn’t pause. If anything, it made her angry. This thing she loved so dearly and had only just reclaimed was not a spectator sport!

Her hands went harder against the keys, trying to ignore them.

As she came to a turn in the piece, she decided the demonic duo of an audience was irrelevant. Their approval and praise was unnecessary. With Gabriel gone, she didn’t really need anyone's approval. Just her own.

Mia smiled, grateful for the momentary unburdened feeling. She was going to fight for more of these moments. For her freedom. Her eyes met with Alastor’s. As if to prove she didn’t care, her look of defiance returned.

Her hands finally stopped and she sucked in a deep breath. Mia’s jaw tipped up a smidge with well earned confidence, “I was under the impression you both had business to attend to?”

Mimzy growled and bristled, “You - ”

She was cut off by Alastor’s exuberant clapping as his microphone cheered.

“Darling girl that was certainly marvelous! Quite the accomplished pianist you are. Though in my experience the classical sorts can’t quite keep up with a jazz or blues musician!”

Mia quirked her brows up at him, though otherwise expressionless. His evaluation of her playing didn’t matter. The opinion of some ass looking to get under her skin at any cost didn’t matter. So, she didn’t bother retorting.

He expected a response. Expected her to take offense to his quip. A smirk twisted across her lips, not interested in playing his version of a game. No, this time he would play hers. Only a few days ago she’d started to remember early 1900s.

1921 Virginia was the first time she’d heard jazz piano. Mia could remember how startled and enthralled she’d been by the sound. So erratically different from her classical roots.

If that old bastard wanted to underestimate her, he had another thing coming. As if the spirit of Tom Waits possessed her, she clanged down the keys. Both the demons yowled as their hands shot to their ears. Her right hand dragged over the high keys while her left laid down the baseline. That seemed to catch Alastor’s attention as his eyes turned curious.

Mia threw down the lightning boogie-woogie piece. It felt as good as it sounded. Unlike the Canon rendition, this one was brief and came to a climactic ending. What she hadn’t expected was just how thrilled Alastor was.

There were no microphone cheers. This time he whistled and clapped of his own volition with a child’s delight. Mia never knew he loved music this much. He towered over her, forgetting whatever contention was previously between them.

His towering soon became engulfing and she noticed how displeased Mimzy looked. Before this could turn into another kitchen scenario, Mia deftly slipped out from under him. “Oh no, please continue! That was fantastical, Chèr!”

No matter how cute, and she hated admitting that, his untainted excitement was, Mia wasn’t interested. Time with Alastor equaled whiplash, annoyance, being mentally disarmed, then used for his own entertainment.

“Sorry, things to do.” Mia hopped off the stage.

A haughty feeling washed over her. Before leaving she flashed them the sweetest grin she could muster. “You know, I see it. You two make a cute, perfect couple. Enjoy your business!”

———

Alastor
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 249

Cheeky brat.

After Miss Miller’s inflammatory statement concerning an impossible relationship with Mimzy, the club owner was nothing short of over the moon!

On his desk sat another love letter with lipstick marks all over it. Disgusting. He would not touch the foul thing. For years he’d skirted around her advances, but since coming to the hotel she’d become bold. Obnoxiously bold.

Fire ate away the letter as he groaned, bouncing his leg with irritation. Avoiding Mimzy was certainly more difficult than ever before.

KNOCK-KNOCK

Alastor frowned and looked at the clock. He’d lost track of time in his annoyance. The door clicked open with magic. He smiled as Miss Miller sneered.

“Maybe you should get your girlfriend to sing you lullabies.” His smile tightened as he stepped too close, purposefully towering over her. The wings on her back shivered and flicked. In contrast her jaw picked up. After a few minutes she stepped around him and sat on the couch.

“Let’s get this over with.”

“Surely you’re not insisting on rushing an old man, my girl?” His fingers snapped and they were in an empty hotel room.

“I guess you’ve never tried sleeping pills.”

“Never touched the stuff!”

“Do you always sleep here?”

“Mind your manners child,” he patronized.

Her cheeks puffed out and she plopped into the arm chair. “You realize that makes you an old man dragging said child to a hotel room, right? Pretty f*cking creepy.”

Alastor whipped around fangs and claws bared. To insinuate that he would ever! Her hands gripped around the chair arms, sinking back as much as she could.

Good. Served her right.

“Ok ok! Sorry! I’m sorry. So uh, what kind of serial killer were you?”She seemed uncertain in asking and he just scoffed, sitting on the edge of the bed in his usual sleep wear.

He stayed silent, not convinced by her sudden change in topic. The dragonfly-esque girl shifted about, but never averted her eyes. He’d break that bravado one day. Then he’d remove that tongue and shut her up for good.

Alastor watched keenly as his stern silence unraveled her. Shifting transformed into squirming. They were only so many feet apart and he could hear how her heart picked up. Just like a frightened doe. Delicious.

“Husk said you were kind of a vigilante?”

Of course she broke first. Not a soul could out do him in a waiting game. The decades taught him to be a patient sort. Her voice went high and his smile thinned, but widened.

Her nervous nonsense continued, “Those kinds of serial killers aren’t exactly common. A lot of them are based on psychosexual trauma or some form of childhood abuse. The only one I can think of is Robert Maudsley. He murdered three people in prison, two of which were convicted child predators. The third was for domestic violence against his wife. Otherwise, that’s not the status quo. Did you finish the Red Dragon?”

“With that prattling you're bound to use all the oxygen in Hell!” Alastor snarked.

A sickeningly sweet smile stretched across her face, "At least then we can suffocate together.”

"I'll be quite alright once you die."

“Then you'll be waiting a while," she quipped, offering a strained grin and secretive gleam.

He waved dismissively, if only to feign disinterest. Actually, he had an inkling that there was something to that comment. "I'm sure all that useless racket in your noggin will keep you busy."

“And speaking of useless racket, I found something. Maybe sharing it would prompt you to be a little less crotchety, hmm?”

Begrudgingly, the things she also shared with him were fascinating and brought some much needed variation to his life. “I’ll consider being ‘less crotchety’ if I find it enjoyable!”

Apparently she didn’t find that amusing, but continued on.

”A look back on vigilante justice in America: Episode 73 - The Crescent City Cutter. Approximately 15 known victims from 1928 to 1930 … ”

Alastor listened, never thinking that someone in the future would ever take the time to research, study, and analyze his work. The introduction included a blurb on the writer, a modern day journalist from Colorado obsessed with vigilantes, Alex Solokovich.

Finally he laid down, listening to her voice fill the room. Normally, he’d care quite a bit with how others perceived him but that concern was too far gone for his current company.

“It took me five months to uncover all of the buried articles concerning the victims. Sherman Ackerman, the grandson of news reporter David Monroe who died in 1946, kept all of the interviews conducted by his grandfather. The accounts consist of Monroe talking to the families, friends, and neighbors of the victims as he hunted for the Cutter’s identity. What I discovered convinced me of one thing: I was now investigating a long forgotten vigilante, the monster that monsters feared.

One of the victims was a beloved local post man, Samuel Edmond. After Edmond’s disappearance and subsequent murder, Monroe took to questioning Edmond’s wife who gave away nothing untoward. The next day Edmond’s son, Jacob sat down and told the truth of his father’s crimes. Jacob grew up to a father who valued image and took joy in battering his wife and four children for the smallest of mistakes. Jacob’s younger brother was caught being sweet on a girl of lesser means which caused Edmond to go ballistic.”

The article continued in a similar fashion, detailing the names of wretched men he knew too well. Alastor recalled the sad, disgusting cries of Sam Edmond under a magnolia tree, one leg snapped in half. That was one of his messier killings. He held up a hand and she stopped reading, not saying a word.

“Where did you find this?”

She waved her phone and shrugged, “Google.”

Alastor rolled his eyes, not understanding whatever ‘Google’ was. Later he'd have Nifty provide him with a copy of the article.

“Uh … Do you, you know, regret killing so many people?” Her voice wavered.

“Ha! Not at all! I delighted in the screams and pleas of every mange ridden mongrel I snuffed out! As you’ve read, they most surely deserved it. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Her answer never came. Alastor glanced over and she seemed entirely distracted now. Teasingly he asked, “Are you disgusted?”

She met his gaze and shook her head. There was a thoughtful look on her face, but nothing like the fear or discomfort she expressed with him earlier. “You probably saved people in the long run. Abuse is a cyclic thing. It just breeds more of itself as time goes on. Do I think you enjoyed it too much? Absolutely. Why did you start eating people?”

Alastor flashed his fangs at her and she shivered in her seat. “Times were hard, Chèr.”

Her gaze didn’t relent and her head tilted with contemplation. “That can’t be all of it. Black Tuesday was when, 1929? When did you start?”

Questions. Questions. Questions. How unfair that he couldn’t ply her with his own? Never the matter, if he played her well enough, she’d give it all away.

Clumsy girl.

“Interested in history suddenly? It was 1928. I started on a whim more or less.” He didn’t bother to look at her, imagining the same expression countless others had given him. Except Nifty, who never paid enough attention to a single matter to care.

Finally, she stopped asking questions, humming as if to remember a tune. What came next sounded old and soft, in a language he couldn’t understand. Thankfully his curiosity about the odd language drowned out the memories of why he actually started feasting on the flesh of men.

Chapter 24: Cigarettes

Chapter Text

Mia
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 242

Out in the garden, Mia heard an unusual ruckus in the supply shed.

Typically it was just her out back and rarely did any of the patrons bother to help. Cautiously, she crept up to the door. Who or what hadn’t been mindful enough to shut it all the way.

Stifled moans and panting became too clear. Mia dreaded looking in and steeled herself for the sight.

Peeking, she found Angel doing inexplicable things to Travis’s hind quarters. More lewd, obnoxious sounds filled the air. The spider was distracted, holding his phone up with an arm to film the escapade. At least, that’s what she thought until, “Oh yes~ Enjoy this little live tease from your favorite, sweet, innocent Angel. Just here doin’ community service! Be sure to drop by to the Ha-”

Mia burst in and grabbed Angel’s phone. Immediately she tossed it out into the grass as he went shocked and wide eyed.

“What the f*ck are you doing?!” She demanded, not considering anything other than him humiliating Charlie. It was one thing in private! f*ck, it was even acceptable out in the open! But to broadcast and mock the hotel?

All she could think of was defending her niece’s dream.

Travis scuttled onto the floor, fast to adorn his hat and straighten his feathers. Angel puffed up, red faced and growling, “Mind ya own business, bitch!”

“My own business? News flash!” Mia’s arms flailed up, “I work here! So it is exactly my business when you’re out here tonguing Travis’s ass live! What the f*ck is wrong with you?”

Travis shoved her back out the shed door and she sailed straight onto her ass.

Angel was cursing in Italian looking for his phone as Travis now stood over her with a big grin. “You jealous, fairy bitch? Angel Cakes may not f*ck you, but I would. It’d be a pity f*ck though.”

With a crafty move from Millie, she managed to leverage her legs and spin Travis onto the ground face first. “Oh I’m sorry. I don’t f*ck losers. Did your wife kick you out because you have a limp dick or because she didn’t want whatever venereal disease you brought home for dinner? Get the f*ck out of here you piece of sh*t.”

Travis cursed and flipped her off, saying anything and everything he could lay his tongue to. Angel made to move past her, but she bodied up in front of him. It did little to stop him. Mia started running just to keep pace with him.

“Ok Angel, what the f*ck is up with you?” All he did was flip her off.

“Angel! I’m not Charlie, so I’m not here to fix your problems. I’m not Vaggie, so I’m not interested in guilt tripping you or belittling you. But you can’t be doing that kind of nonsense!”

For whatever reason, he stopped.

Angel leaned against the stone railing and lit a cigarette. The pink smoke was heavy and drifted down around their feet. It smelled of something sickly sweet. A few of the wisps curled into hearts and around their bodies. “The f*ck do you know nerd?”

Mia looked incredulous because she didn’t know. Some days she could feel the loneliness curling back around her just waiting. Whatever emotion stretched across his face jerked at her heart strings. Angel looked sickeningly miserable suddenly.

A gloved hand held out the half used cigarette and she shrugged, taking it. Gemma had given her some harsh joints before so it wouldn’t be too bad. Mia hoped Angel would find some solidarity in the action. Their eyes met, and she said, “When in Rome.”

He snickered as she inhaled and immediately started choking, face turning wicked and condescending.

It felt like her lungs were trying to crawl out of her body away from the smoke. A demon magic wrapped around her mind. Her body felt tingly. It reminded her of the Halloween party. Angel didn’t bother to help her and picked up the cigarette to continue smoking, “Jesus you really is f*ckin’ weak. Listen up dollface, don’t go actin’ like ya know sh*t. Cause ya don’t. ”

Mia’s breathing labored as she managed to sit upright out of the pooling smoke. Her legs felt wobbly. “That almost killed me!”

The butt dropped down beside her. “You’s dead. Get used to it. Everythin’ hear almost kills ya. The people, the smokes, the food, the jobs … Pretty bitches like you f*ck up a time or two up top and can’t deal when the hammer gets dropped. Tough break toots. Them book smarts gonna fail ya in the long run.”

Her chest hurt and her head swam, “The f*ck are those?”

Angel purred, blowing the smoke of a new cigarette in her face, inducing more hacking and wheezing. He squeezed her cheeks in one hand, grinning. “These are Daddy’s. A special blend that keeps the party right on goin’. Nice talkin’ to ya, baby girl.”

He patted her cheeks and pinched one a bit too hard, just as he’d seen Valentino do millions of times. The boots clacked off into the distance as she did her best to stand up straight. What made it worse was that Husker seemed to witness the whole thing. A paw latched onto her upper arm and finally she was standing. “Deep breaths Wings. Not as smart as you think you are takin' a drag of those.”

“Thanks,” she wheezed. He was kind enough, sort of, to not let go of her arm. “So who’s ‘Daddy’?”

Husk rolled his eyes and scoffed, hand squeezing noticeably harder. “Angel’s pimp.”

“Pimp? I thought Angel was a p*rn star?”

“Heh, he wasn’t wrong, you don’t know sh*t. His name is Valentino, you’ve had to heard of them f*ckin’ creeps by now.”

Overlords, she realized. The V3 media conglomerate. All the news specials painted the trio in glorious light. Velvette, the lovable, fashionable upbeat influencer. Vox, tech mogul, genius, and business head. Valentino … now that she thought of it, he’d been skimmed over compared to his partners. He was always portrayed as a hardworking entrepreneurial boot-straps kind of guy who pioneered Hell’s number one industry.

“I didn’t realize … ” Mia felt stupid because she didn’t know anything about Angel. News articles, media coverage, HellTube videos. Everything painted a nasty, wretched picture. The irony of a spider being caught in a web.

“So why is he here? Couldn’t Charlie get him out of that mess? I get walking away could be dangerous bu-”

Husker let go of her arm and sneered, going as far to clap her upside the head. “Lemme give you a crash course. Demons with enough magic can make soul binding contracts and overlords make deals. Think about it.”

“Oh.” So just what had Angel done? And why? “Does Charlie even know about that?”

Husker shrugged, a cheap booze bottle coming out of seemingly no where, “I’d imagine the Princess has resources, but I don’t think she really gets it. A word of advice: keep your nose down. sh*t’s been weird lately.”

Mia cringed internally, thinking of all Gabriel’s advice to sit down, shut up, and stay hidden. She’d f*cked that up pretty well. Still, doing nothing felt so painfully wrong. Doing nothing gave her too much time to think.

“Husk, can you tell me what’s been going on?”

He paused, only giving a low hum. Claws gently clacked against the booze bottle. Finally he asked, “What you got to give?”

Mia felt dumbfounded. Surely he wasn’t so selfish? Couldn’t he have just told her? That blank shock in her mind slowly turned incredulous. “You know what Husk, forget I asked.”

He wagged the bottle at her, “Easy. Don’t make death harder Wings.”

Mia pulled out her phone to text Vassago, wobbling back inside. Thankfully her lungs were clearing. Appealing to sinners with reason or good will was a bad decision from the beginning. Everyone wanted something.

Vassago had called her back the next day, gung-ho to ship supplies to make her life more ‘comfortable’. He didn’t ask a lot of questions and their relationship regularly consisted of bitching about first world problems and sharing memes.

The package magically arrived on her balcony over night and she grinned. Husker’s eyes and ears could be bought.

Mia stomped down to the bar at dawn. She sat in the bar floor next to a curled up, snoozing Husker and thudded down the pricey vintage sherry.

He hissed and bristled until noting the bottle, “How the f*ck’d you get that?”

She grinned, sitting cross legged on the floor behind the bar. “You asked what I have to give.”

“That sh*t ain’t real,” he said, eyeing the ornate old bottle. She didn’t bother trying to argue with him. Mia grabbed a glass, poured out some of the contents, then slid it over.

He sniffed and sipped at it several times over before cursing at her in a language she didn’t know. Husk held out the glass and she poured him half a shot.

“You stingy bitch.”

“The only one being stingy Husk, is you. I’ll make this easy. You keep me up to date with whatever bullsh*t is going on and then you get some good booze. Pretty simple, don’t you think?”

He sneered at her shaking his empty glass once more.

Obligingly, she poured. After that he started talking.

Crymini was starting fights and defacing anything she could touch. The wolf girl and Vaggie even got into a brawl. Irina seemed fine, but her twin was allegedly starting to act erratic, going as far as attacking the doctor out in the hall and talking to the paintings. Apparently she had issues with men when she was alive. Charlie and Vaggie were back and forth in the hotel day in and day out, trying to keep the peace.

And it turned out Angel was on the verge of being kicked out. His sexual proclivities worsened. Leaving drugs around. Sharing drugs. Not to mention being caught servicing Travis on a live stream. Vaggie lobbied for him to be gone for a while already.

Mia frowned. Charlie hadn’t told her any of this.

“Thanks for letting me know. If you see something else, ltell me. And keep an eye on Angel explicitly.”

“The f*ck you doing this for kid?” He asked whilst hiding away the bottle.

She shrugged and dusted off her jeans. “Who knows? But at least I’m doing something. Maybe redeeming sinners isn’t possible, but I’m going to find out. There’s no point in wasting away down here otherwise.”

Chapter 25: Pushed

Chapter Text

Alastor
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 230

“Nope, we don’t have that down here! That exists up top, but we have Hellgle!”

Nifty smiled as usual, but looked a touch uncertain. Alastor could understand why. He certainly never took any interest in Hell’s modern technological infrastructure, let alone the one that exists in the living world.

So Miss Miller had active access to the living world. At least technologically.

How? Was that where her mutt kept disappearing off to?

“Nifty darlin’, you’ve been a wonderful help!”

Now she beamed, loving the praise from her sole father figure. With their impromptu investigation done, she skittered off to do whatever nonsensical thing she had planned. Nifty’s personal life was only relevant to him if she came into trouble. No one old enough to remember 1997 bothered her anymore. Oh had he lost his temper at the time. He liked to tell people it was all for show, but that wasn’t the case. He’d wholly, truly, absolutely lost his marbles that day.

Alastor chuckled at the memory, then focused back in on his new puzzle piece.

The door swung back open with the tiny demoness’s typical enthusiasm, “I also meant to tell you I’m excited for the cooking class tomorrow! I doubt you’ll need the help though! Your food is always so good which I think a lot of new people will be really surprised. Vaggie wanted me to tell you she approved it and put it on the bulletin board!”

With annoyance and indignation he transported them down to the lobby’s board. Alastor sneered. Among the throng of brightly colored information, was a red and black paper with him so lovingly doodled in the middle. Round was the only way to describe that heinous artist’s rendition.

Cooking dinner with the Radio Demon! Sure to be a bloody good time!

The rest of it went on to explain the basic hotel rules and the time. Apparently, he was teaching a cooking class and serving dinner all in one. What’s worse was that it already had the hotel’s stamp of approval.

“We need the good knives!” Nifty squealed and twirled as a malicious gleam sparkled in her eye, “I’ll head home right now to sharpen them!”

With that he sent her off into a shadow.

The instant she was gone he crumpled the offensive paper, nearly growling at the blatant intrusion and theft of his precious time. Immediately, he stalked off to the kitchen, knowing exactly who was responsible. From the doorway he could hear and see Miss Miller, bopping about, dancing, and singing whilst cleaning the kitchen.

Alastor paused to listen. Despite the obviously modern sound, he found it agreeable. Actually, he liked it more than he was comfortable to admit. The singer had a quality rasp and he’d had half a mind to ask what the song was. Pride, however, would not allow him to.

Sell me one of those if I shave my head
Get me out of town is what Fireball said
Never trust a man in a blue trench coat
Never drive a car when you're dead

As the song wrapped, he positioned a shade just so that she would trip. Then there was Miss Miller splayed out on the floor, looking thoroughly confused.

“Your jive steps leave much to be desired! Though not nearly as atrocious as your Charleston! What is this ear scratching racket?”

Soon she acted like the floor was made of hellfire, scrambling to her feet, mouth pursed and nose flared. A thoroughly satisfied grin split his face. Her struggling never failed to amuse him. Surely a fiery reaction was in order! Perhaps between his outright pestering and her blatant stupidity, this would be good fun.

Miss Miller flung her balled rag into the sink and crossed her arms defensively. His face fell nearly a fraction. Lately she’d cut to the chase with him which he found so entirely, exhaustingly boring. “What do you want, Alastor?”

How disappointing. Perhaps he needed to prod more. Testing the wherewithal of his lessers did bring him a childlike joy after all.

“It seems that without my knowledge, there is a cooking class to be held tomorrow.”

Her expression twisted from ill tempered brat to infuriatingly smug. “You did agree to my having time off and with Charlie and Vaggie doing so much interacting with the patrons I thought to myself, surely Alastor intends to not be upstaged by two inexperienced young girls? Vaggie was all smiles with the idea.”

“Oh I’m certainly sure Vagatha was thrilled by the notion of investing my time. I look forward to working with you tomorrow, ma jolie proie.”

An inky finger jabbed up. Alastor scoffed at how brazen she could be. Fire brands were entertaining, but insolence had its limits. Indignantly she stated, “Oh no way! Tomorrow is my day off!”

“And who approved that? Dear girl,” he hissed, clearing the distance between them with one long step. Alastor loomed and glowered, casting an unnaturally dark shadow over her. “If you’re so keen to dictate my time, I’m sure you’ll have no qualms being my ever so dedicated assistant for the entire day.”

She blinked once, then twice, frozen in place. He took one sharp claw and applied pressure just so under her jaw. Alastor found the sudden hitch in her breath amusing. Only a little harder … That did the trick as her expression morphed into doe-eyed nervousness. Slowly he scraped right over her hot, pulsating jugular. Alastor leaned in past her shivering jaw, only a breath’s width away from her ear.

Terrified and on the verge of running was how he preferred his prey, despite the intriguing novelty of them fighting back. It seemed she needed a reminder of where she fell on the food chain, despite their contract. A pathetic whimper sounded from her tight throat.

Oh yes, he’d make time to break her zealous spirit.

Blood beaded on the tip of his claw. Even that small lot he could smell. So savory and delicious against the harshness of kitchen cleaner. A demonic growl rumbled in his chest and he caught how she nearly jerked. The wings on her back rattled like a wind chime through hurricane season.

“Do remember that my dedication to keeping you alive and ensuring your meager freedoms are not exclusive of pain. Pain rarely kills, Miss Miller.”

Before turning away his mouth twisted into a truly demonic, hedonistic grin as a tapered, long, pale tongue licked and savored her blood from his claw.

“We leave after your morning duties!”

———

Mia heaved once he was gone. He’d left her with that same icy, needle like sensation in her spine. A golf ball in her throat. There was a third feeling that she really, really hated. It wasn’t that she was opposed to the feeling, but to feel it because of him? She’d never played into the insanity of bad boys, Machiavellian spirits, or wickedness as an attractive feature.

f*ck.

Everything felt warm and like her very normal, non fussy t-shirt was strangling her. The wings on her back felt heavy and exposed. Forget the kitchen, it was clean enough.

She raced up the hotel to her room and slammed the door. The moment the lock clicked, she ripped off the glamour ring, hoping it would help to relieve that sensation. Unfortunately it did not.

Mia rushed for the shower and turned the water as cold as it would go. Clothes and all she plunged in, cursing herself.

———

Charlie
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 229

It couldn’t be helped any longer. With absolute defeat, her face slumped onto her desk, dreading when Vaggie came back.

Her lovely, feisty, intelligent, cut throat girlfriend went to get Angel Dust. Today was the day. Thankfully Alastor was out with Mia to get things for the cooking class, thus not around to exacerbate the soon to be high emotions.

Charlie thought about her quote-unquote business partner for a minute, grateful to just be thinking about something else. As of late, she’d seen Mia around with Alastor. And even though she knew exactly how Al could be, it seemed her illustrious aunt could handle him.

That warmed her. Maybe if Alastor could become friends with an angel, the angel, he could be redeemed after all? All sinners were human and all humans had something good in them!

Even still, their progress on making sure the hotel was fed regularly made her life easier.

Shuffling around she found a bright note pad and glitter pen, then scribbled out: Michael -> Alastor = progress???

Normally all her planning and ‘treatments’ revolved around the patrons. Rectifying the Radio Demon was taking on a kraken in the ocean, not her normal small fish in a small pond.

At last came the knock on the door. Charlie’s heart sank to her ankles and she just wanted to cry in frustration. She hated this part but it was bound to happen to one of the patrons eventually. It hurt for it to be her first, though.

Angel honestly had made some progress for a while. In some hopes of garnering trust with him, she’d left his private life alone, well for the most part. Sort of.

Vaggie swung open the door and shoved Angel inside. They were already firing insults and scowling at each other.

“Angel, can you please sit? I was hoping we could talk.”

With a scoff and middle finger to Vaggie he draped himself over the couch, pulling a lollipop out of his jacket. “Whadya want Princess Sparkle?”

Vaggie rounded the desk, face set into a scathing glower, arms crossed. Charlie liked to think of this as a good cop / bad cop methodology, but who was she kidding? Vaggie could be so sour despite being so sweet.

“Angel, your actions have gotten out of line and after our last-”

“Seven!” Interrupted Vaggie, slamming a fist of the desk. Charlie gave a small, pleading smile and laid a hand gently on the fist. The result was the Latina moving her hand and walking towards the window to work on her breathing.

“As I was saying, per our last seven discussions, I thought we’d come to an agreement that you couldn’t continue with your behavior.”

“No, that’s what you’s said you’s decided on. I remember sayin' I had a dick needin' sucked off at 4.” Charlie groaned.

“This is serious Angel! You’re not doing better. Sometimes, as of late, I keep thinking maybe you’re getting worse. If there’s something going on that I can do, as the Princess of Hell even, can you please tell me so we can work on it?”

The air shifted and tension spread. Angel’s expression went dark as his four arms crossed tightly. “Ain’t sh*t goin' on.”

“Angel …”

“I said ain’t sh*t goin' on!” He threw the lollipop just past Charlie’s head. Thankfully, Vaggie didn’t escalate the situation due to Charlie holding up a hand. She knew exactly what kind of reaction to expect and a single temper tantrum wasn’t a big deal. It couldn’t be a big deal. If it was, she had worse problems.

“Listen, I don’t want things to be this way, but we can’t ignore you advertising your, uh you know, business in relationship to the hotel! That really undermines what we’re trying to accomplish. I think you have something good and loving and warm in you, but you need to embrace it. If we could just -”

“Ya know, you and Wings ramble a lot. You stupid pretty bitches and all your know how. All about good and blah blah blah. Listen Princess, this is Hell! HELL! Your big ol’ daddy WANTS US TO SUFFER. Just cause you wear a crown and can leave death’s co*ckring, don’t means you get it. Like what does you know about sufferin’, eh? About pain? About being on your last leg, strung out in an alley way, begging old geezers to suck their dicks just for two bucks and a dime bag?”

Angel was standing at full height, eyes glowing with demonic energy, but glistening with tears.

“We can help you!” Charlie pleaded.

“Listen up you spoiled brat, you can’t. You don’t call the shots! Yer little pipe dream ain’t sh*t and we all know it!”

Charlie’s sniffle cracked Vaggie’s resolve. With more grace than Charlie had ever seen from the mortal woman, she said, “Angel, we’re glad you came to us for help. If you feel like you’re ready to seriously commit to the program, you’ll be welcomed back with open arms. For now though, you have the rest of the day to gather your things and move out. If you need anything to make ends meet over the next week, let us know. Good luck.”

Angel Dust stomped out of the room immediately. Once the door clicked shut, Charlie slumped over onto the desk sobbing. Vaggie scooted in under her head and they nestled together awkwardly, reeling with their first true defeat.

———

Mia
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 229

Mia took a drink of her coffee, eyeballing a menacing looking demon who actually squeaked then skittered across the street. Walking with Alastor proved a one way ticket to no traffic. She could only think of how useful that could be on bustling days.

For most the day she’d been treading under foot with Alastor. He’d gone on and on and on and on about places, where he’d killed certain demons. Toppled various overlords. Ousted whole groups of Hellborn demons. While she certainly wanted to know as much as she could about Hell, any information could potentially help her situation, he only spewed on about his murders. It wasn’t even about his life! Or the people he knew or the merits of places! Just all about his power.

“They really go out of their way to avoid you.”

“As they should! I’d venture to say you could learn from them.”

Mia rolled her eyes, because as much as she wanted to, it seemed there was no way in Hell she ever could. For what seemed an indefinite amount of time, she was saddled with the Radio Demon until something changed. Hopefully something would change.

“What and let you miss your lullabies and snacks? I may as well be your nanny.”

That earned her a stern glare but she just stuck her tongue out. Silence settled between them. She couldn’t stop trying to observe everything at once. The demons, the odd buildings, lewd signs and posters. One caught her eye and she stopped, walking up to a wall smattered with paper.

BEWARE!!!!!! HiM!!
THE RADIO DEMON!!

For all she’d seen of Hell, this poster was close to the horrific imagery most expected.

“HEY!” She yelped, being picked up by Alastor. He’d taken the liberty to forcibly move her along by the back of her shirt. It made her wings entirely uncomfortable.

“No need to be distracted by artist interpretations when you have the real McCoy, dear girl!” He puffed, proud of himself.

“You can’t just displace people at your whim, you know. All you had to do was ask.” Her huffing did nothing to persuade his treatment of others.

“Why if it isn’t the pot calling the kettle! I could say the same of you and your stunt.”

“You know, I didn’t do it just to piss you off. Sure that was definitely part of it but not the whole reason,” she explained in indignation.

Red eyes cast down at her curiously, waiting for said explanation.

“Things in the hotel have been rough for Charlie lately. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but things-”

“Oh I’ve noticed quite a bit! Why that one doll talking to the paintings is quite a laugh, ah ha ha! She nearly skewered the poor doctor. Every day is, but a glorious circus at our fine establishment!”

Mia rolled her eyes and groaned, “Are you really that selfish? It’s your business! If it fails, that means you failed. I made the cooking class because when you’re around, for better or worse, the patrons don’t step out of line. Husk and Nifty don’t cause trouble thankfully, and if your eyes are on everyone else, Charlie gets a break. Even if it’s just for a little while.”

“Charlotte lacks no dedication to her wacky cause! A Hellborn demon trying to redeem mortals. I can only imagine our Infernal King’s reaction! And she’s the heir of eternal damnation and suffering!”

Mia groaned again, not wanting to hear his scathing review of Charlie’s ambitions. “She’s not just a demon. News flash, she’s half angel and she has free will. Being born somewhere doesn’t serve as some higher-than-thou roadmap.”

“I’ve seen nearly every extermination to date! Why bother associating with those winged mongrels who bring down suffering and ultimate death? I find you’d change your tune if you make it to see one.”

She’d never thought about being here for an extermination. Angels, what were supposed to be her angels, coming down to do exactly as Alastor said. How could something so horrible happen? Being left in the dark with two brothers only meant that she had a hand in it. Otherwise, wouldn’t they have refuted her questions?

Mia chanced a question, “What would the exterminators do if they found a human in hell?”

Would those holy creatures recognize her? She didn’t doubt it since everyone else had. Maybe she could stop it? Maybe that’s what all this madness was leading up to. Lucifer never said why he couldn’t arrange a cease fire. Gabriel didn’t have a part to play in it thankfully, but he was also damnably complacent in the ordeal. That pissed her off. Everything was really starting to piss her off.

Alastor shocked her out of the blasphemous rabbit hole with an arm wrapping about her shoulders a tad too tight. Magic warped them through the shadows. Scenery stretched black and red, then snapped back, depositing them onto the upper most platform of Pride's clocktower.

Stretched out before her was Pride City until it disappeared beyond itself. There wasn’t a city like this for all of existence. “It’s massive,” she breathed out, nearly overwhelmed by its engulfing volume.

Clawed hands gripped her shoulders. Instinctively she tried to shrug him off but he merely tutted at her.

“Don’t be defiant, little human,” he hummed next to the tip of her ear. Warmth radiated from his chest onto her back and wings. God why were those useless things so sensitive?! For all their trouble they could have at least worked! Despite his tightening grip, his hands slipped languidly down until there was a non-negotiable grip on her upper arms.

Mia fought against the tightness in her throat and the new thrumming in her body. She jerked again. Then again. And again until she was struggling and squirming. Panic rose up in her as a hot breath rolled down her neck. A low, timbering laugh soon followed.

Her arms were immobile. “Stop it! Jesus Christ, let me go! This isn’t funny!”

“You’ve had your fun, Miss Miller. Now it’s time for mine. You’d have done well to remember what I am.”

A monster.

Alastor’s cackling laugh rang clear as he pushed her off the tower.

Chapter 26: Dust

Chapter Text

Mia
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 217

Ever since the clocktower fiasco, Alastor did nothing but pester her day in and day out. If she was cooking, he was there criticizing and swinging about knives. In the garden? He was there to agitate her, push her around, pull weeds, and gab on like some middle schooler.

Now he forced her out of the hotel, quoting their contract, snapping and utilizing his shadows to shuffle her to his whim.

For all the few memories she did have, nothing quite compared to the living experience of free falling to what she’d assumed was her doom. And right as the concrete sped towards her, she fell through a shadow then right into his arms like an unglorified feed sack!

Two days passed before she had the nerve to look at him. Even now she no longer had the willpower to speak around him.

Now he egged her on, all but begging for some reaction. He’d stopped trying to pull her around into dance steps as she simply went limp. There were no more bad puns. She made no effort to share anything. To think in the beginning she’d thought befriending him was an option! Hell proved just how helpless and powerless she was. What’s worse was the settling. Settling for the fact that her protection was also her predator.

Every day she texted Gabriel and Vassago, hinting and hoping they’d come down to visit her. All the message statuses stayed unread.

Whatever they were doing kept them busy. Too busy to babysit her.

At least she had Charlie. Of course, getting to know the girl felt more like having a little sister. An impossibly hopeful, radiant, joyful, strong, and kind little sister. Mia often wondered what it would have been like watching a tiny angel-demon princess grow up, teasing Lucifer, baby sitting, giving her birthday presents for hundreds of years …

But as Gabriel would remind her, she’d thrown it all away.

Charlie was all work, no play, and stressed beyond measure lately. When Mia was able to get rid of the radio pest, she tried cheering the girl up with human things, but it felt hopeless. Angel’s eviction did a number on the hotel’s staff. Husk drank more. Nifty seemed bored. Alastor seemed to invest in pestering others more often. Even Vaggie with her fire was subdued.

Mia ripped off the gardening gloves and rolled over into the grass.

Last night, upon delivering fresh cookies, Charlie had thanked her for becoming friends with Alastor and keeping him out of trouble. Apparently harassing her meant he wasn’t derailing the guests. That singular fact kept her from giving up and calling off this Hellish farce.

Mia felt exposed and raw, especially around Alastor for all the reasons. Not just the wrong ones. Not just the right ones. All of them. The sensibilities she claimed once upon a time were gone.

It felt like her skull would rupture from all of the worrying and thinking and remembering and stressing! And if it weren’t for the fact Alastor would drink from her exploded skull like a daiquiri filled pineapple, she’d probably enjoy the release! Any small thing to spite him suited her just fine. Like putting just enough sugar in dinner to keep him from eating.

“I hate that f*cking disgusting, pompous, narcissistic-”

“You seem stressed,” said a familiar, gentle timber as a furred paw came into view.

With a gasp, Mia sparred no time launching herself into Gabriel’s demon-glamoured form. His embrace was warm and firm as she went from an excitable choke hold to resting her head on his shoulder.

“Oh God, you don’t know how much I’ve missed you! I texted you!”

Gabriel hummed and smiled, not relinquishing his grip on her. “I’m sorry Michael. My phone is unfortunately somewhere at the bottom of the Congo river. Vassago hasn’t had the chance to situate me with a new one.”

Just as she went to offload all of her nagging questions, he stood up and ushered her towards the hotel, “I’d love a good meal if you don’t mind.”

Perhaps one of his angelic abilities was to read minds or side step curious siblings. Nevertheless she smiled, reluctantly burying her questions once more. For now, she was just happy to see him safe and ever happier that Alastor would leave her alone until he left.

———

Husk
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 217

Husk finished mixing Nifty’s sweet, pink drink just as the front door exploded open in a fit of dust.

“Ange? Angie?!” Cherri rushed in, frantic and looking everywhere with her large eye.

“f*ck, you can’t just come in here and blow the place to bits! Plus, Angel’s gone.” And he hated that. No matter how much he tried to bury it in his chest and drink away that sensation, he couldn’t. And now this bomb happy bitch comes in and reminds him all about it. Just his f*cking luck.

“Fat Nuggets!” Nifty delighted, zooming over and prying the small pig from Cherri’s arms. She nuzzled and coo’ed at the tiny beast as the arsonist stomped over and slammed her fists on the bar.

“Where’s Angel Dust?!”

“Pfft. Guess the news ain’t out yet. Legs got the boot. He f*cked up one too many times.”

Cherri dropped onto a stool as her mouth fell open. “No, that can’t be! He can’t leave here! He can’t go back there!”

With the only kindness he could afford Cherri, Husk poured her a stiff drink. She slammed it back, tears starting to well up and spill over. “Angie came and dropped off Fat Nuggs. That’s pretty normal if he’s gotta lotta work to do, even for a week. But this time was different. Angie was acting all weird and cold. He didn’t fawn or cry over havin’ to leave his baby, even for a little bit! Did he say anythin’? When he was here last?”

He couldn’t meet her pleading gaze. If he did … Husk wasn’t sure what he’d do because he’d never been in this position.

The Aussie fire brand kept spewing off more and more information about how strange Angel acted, even before being tossed back out. As much as he wanted to walk off and drown in a bottle, something stronger than his deflective personality anchored him at the bar, listening. Hoping to hear something. Waiting for anything that could— actually, what was he waiting for?

A big paw settled on Cherri’s head, the other handing her a clean bar rag for her sobs. Sure he didn’t regard women any differently than men or them, but watching those big hiccuping tears jerked his weathered heartstrings. It’s because of how earnest they were. Because those tears were for someone he might have cried for too if he hadn't forgotten how.

In a low whisper he said, “Buck up and stay in touch, kid. I’ll handle it. Nifty can help with the pig.”

The only questions left were what was he handling and how was he going to do it.

———

Mia
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 214

It was 2:37 AM and the memories were rougher than ever. Mia found herself dying over and over at night. Stabbed. Burned at the stake. A car crash. Drowning. Others were nondescript, as if she’d been too young to remember them. So far she could count 12 separate incidents.

Bundled up in her pajamas and a blanket, she went down to the piano.

She missed the footfalls moving across the stage as she started a third song. The exhaustion made her blissfully blind to Gabriel until he stood next to the piano.

His eyes blazed an angelic blue and in a moment of irrational fury he slammed down the key cover. Mia was lucky to have jerked her hands back or she’d been freshly amputated.

Gabriel’s mouth opened, closed, then opened again.

“I guess you’re going to take me away again?” She whispered, expecting him to shut her down, rip her from the spot, and force her life into another fresh bout of agony.

“Was it Lucifer?” He growled, hunching over to force her eyes on him.

“It wasn’t too long after we came here. But I don’t remember a lot. It’s all just jumbled and I can barely put the languages or time periods back together.”

“Why must you always go and do such senseless, stupid, mind numbingly-”

“Where’s Gemma?” She interrupted, squaring back her shoulders. Mia had prepared for this day, mentally. She just never expected it to come so soon.

“That is not what we’re discussing Michael!” Gabriel growled like the dog demon he pretended to be, snarling all the while.

“It is now!” Her temper snapped. Mia shot up, causing the bench to clatter backwards. “What happened to Gemma?! Tell me! Is she dead? You keep putting it off and lying! So what if I asked Lucifer for my memories back? What is it that you find so threatening?”

“That’s it. I should have never left you here. We’re leaving.” A paw reached out for her shoulder, but she dipped and spun out of it. Mia pulled on the glaive’s magic and situated the blade right at his stomach. Of course she didn’t have the nerve to run him through, but maybe the bluff was enough.

Blue anger faded from his eyes and his glamour dissolved all together. Betrayal and hurt situated across his face. That expression seemed so hopeless and defeated that Mia wondered how many times he’d looked at her like this before. Like a disappointment. Like he was in pain.

“I’m want the truth Gabriel.”

“Michael! Watch what you say!” Their identities be damned. No one was ever in the ballroom at night and if they were she had no extra f*cks to give.

“Like f*ck I will! You’re such a f*cking liar! And so is Lucifer! The two brothers who claim to love me since the beginning of time just keep lying! You both keep expecting your precious Michael to pop back into existence! I’ve been trying to get her back so why do you keep standing in my way?!”

But his infuriating silence only indicated that he wasn’t taking her seriously. Mia wanted to spit at that patronizing look in his eyes. Instead, she trained the weapon on her own neck.

Gabriel lunged forward but Mia pressed the blade inward, situating her jugular into the elegant bend. How sad that all of Alastor’s torment had prepared her for this moment. Maybe she’d thank him later by not adding sugar to the dinner.

Her brother dropped to his knees halfway through the movement, not willing to test her bluff. His love for her was heartbreakingly real and she hated twisting him like this, but what was she supposed to do? What options did she have? Leaving Charlie meant she had to reside to being useless. Leaving Hell meant furthering herself from the truth.

“The truth Gabriel,” she demanded. Rivulets of blood started trailing down her neck, splotching her demonic white hair crimson.

“You won’t get all of your memories back.” He relented. “You’ll be fortunate to get a fraction of them with whatever Lucifer concocted for you. Anything related to your life as a seraphim is off limits and I am barred, physically incapable, of telling you the truth. Those are our laws Michael. Even Lucifer is bound by those laws. So please, don’t do this.”

Mia nodded, and slowly moved the blade from her neck, waiting for him to back track. He didn’t though. Maybe he’d finally given up on their ridiculous farce. She wiped the blood off on her sleeve and sat next to him in the floor.

“Do you remember the curse?”

Great, now there was a curse on top of everything else. “Nope. Not a clue.”

“That is something I can tell you about then. It seems that the Eldritch God cursed you alongside the first punishment. My working theory is that they did it to spite Our Father, to keep you from completing your punishment and returning to us.”

“Fantastic. Well, I guess they got what they wanted. What do you mean by cursed?”

“Our Father cannot override the Eldritch. The Eldritch cannot override Our Father. So while one made you human, the other cursed you with demonic power. I suspect to ruin your chance of salvation.”

“So even as a human I had powers, at least until I f*cked up again.” Gabriel nodded solemnly.

Mia rubbed her eyes, not processing the new information. What a f*ck storm this all was. At least she knew there were things she could never regain. Then again it wasn’t more than a plasticky, hollow, cheap consolation prize. “And Gemma?”

His hand slid over, a silent request for forgiveness but she left him hanging. He didn’t deserve her sympathy right now. Even if he did, she wasn’t close to giving it.

“We can’t find Gemma. There’s evidence that the demons came back for her. Zeus’s horde isn’t known to leave loose ends.”

“So she’s dead.” Emptiness reverberated through her head.

“I’m sorry Michael. I only wanted to protect you.” Some apology. Some protection!

Mia stood up, pointedly avoiding his gaze. She was unable to speak as a tightness coiled in her throat and a burning sensation blossomed at her eyes. She just walked away, hoping to save the sobbing for her pillow.

———

Husk
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 212

Two days ago Husk was jolted awake by a chaotic clang from the piano around the stage curtain. When he truly wanted to hide from everyone, he’d situate himself in a tight storage space with some booze and some books.

Wings and her brother argued, throwing around confusing phrases, accusations, and the King of Hell’s name. It was a squabble full of shocks and revelations. At first, he didn’t quite believe it until the larger demon elegantly faded away to reveal an ethereal human.

Since then he’d kept sharp, sneaky eyes on the woman who took to bribing him with booze. It must have been the truth, because she seemed utterly miserable. Husk had an eye for sorrow, self-loathing, misery, Machiavellian attitudes, and overall apathy. The two siblings hadn’t said a word to each other despite Milton, well Gabriel, just following her around at arm’s length.

Their situation didn’t interest him. Plenty of weird things happened in Hell and he’d heard crazy, odd stories throughout time. What did interest him is what he could do with it.

“Husker good fellow! You’ve switched out your normal libations for something more mild! That only means you’ve taken to kneading an idea in that furry, big head of yours!” Alastor called, appearing from a shadow onto a bar stool.

Across the room he noticed Wings bristle and leave immediately. The dog man followed with a hateful glare at Alastor. Husk cataloged it all into his mental rolodex of ‘things that didn’t add up’.

He always suspected that, on top of other demonic abilities and superior cat like qualities, his main shtick was being lucky. Being demonically, magically, statistically impossibly lucky.

“—and that’s exactly what I told the yellow bellied fool! Ahahaha!” Alastor was going on about some lame story he’d only heard a thousand and one times. Still, the manic demon was right. Husker’s gears were turning and as luck would have it, he might actually be able to save Angel.

Chapter 27: Options

Chapter Text

Vox
V3 Media Conglomerate Penthouse
Next Cleanse: 203

Hell’s most industrious overlord flipped over the beguiling business card several times before letting it float down next to some of his knick-knacks.

Epaphus … it sounded familiar. Being the kind of demon he was, he had the entirety of Hell’s information at his disposal with a mere thought.

The name came up without issue. Historians of all breeds littered Hell and were desperate to off load any surface knowledge they remembered. Was it an alias? Plenty of demons, mortal and Hellborn took up identities from other mythologies.

Being how he kept tabs on anything and everything happening, some of his underlings were instructed to case those odd anti-Abrahamic meetings. Plenty of dissenters popped up throughout Hell’s history but this group seemed oddly powerful. Too powerful for his taste.

They were keeping tight wraps. Their magic was uncanny. His minions returned under a kind of trance, carrying a message and this business card. Given his technological prowess and habit of embedding monitors in his horde, that should have triggered an alarm. Apparently the one fronting this heretic circus wanted to meet with him.

Vox prided himself on being meticulous, planned, knowledgeable, and patient. That often meant leaving Velvette and Valentino out of his long-winded plans until they were necessary or in danger. Most the time their obnoxious flights of fancy caused the exclusions since danger was rarely an issue for the makeshift family. Thinking about his beloved, though he did not admit it, miscreants made him smirk.

For now, he needed to hold and weigh the options.

———

Mia
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 203

Mia mentally checked out of the staff meeting and was the first to leave. None of it had anything to do with her. Or maybe it had. She didn’t care. Ever since Gabriel told her about Gemma, she felt devoid of emotion or thought. Helping the hotel patrons or Nifty kept her busy, thankfully.

Gabriel started leaving her alone more often than not. It was her only solace as the rift between them grew cavernous and acidic. Cordial and cold was how she spoke to him now, if at all. Mia wasn’t great at holding grudges, but forgiveness felt insurmountable. One day she would and, given his immortal status, a few weeks wouldn’t kill him. Sure he hadn’t done anything specifically wrong but how hard was telling the truth?

But then again, if he’d just let her stay dead, wouldn’t Gemma be alive? Part of her wanted to push him to find her in Hell, if she was in Hell. God, if there was any mercy the girl wouldn’t have made it to this consuming wasteland.

But even if she found Gemma, could she handle the guilt? No, all in all, Mia blamed herself. Blamed whoever she used to be. Yet another punishment.

Nearly 30 billion mortal souls existed in Pride. How would she find her?

Mia wondered if she could bargain with Alastor. Give him her arm or leg or a kidney … Then again, hadn’t dealing with a demon already backfired?

Now with Gabriel not on top of her 24/7, Alastor resumed his self-indulgent, ego maniacal antics. It reminded her how he couldn’t help her. Wouldn’t help her.

Mia didn’t have any energy left for his shenanigans. She didn’t care how he treated her and barely gave more than one word answers. His toy was depressed and apathetic.

Good. Any damper to his fun was an added bonus.

They fulfilled their contractual duties at arms length and that was all. His rantings went unnoticed and unappreciated. Those unwelcome touches that typically left her dizzy and too warm felt like they were happening to someone else.

Mia made an about face, realizing she’d left her sweater in Charlie’s office.

Down the hallway, Vaggie was scowling and hounding Alastor. Obviously he wasn’t paying any attention, leaning against his staff and humming pleasantly. Normal, sour quips were exchanged, then Vaggie turned to leave.

What unfolded next poisoned Mia's newfound mental state, searing her brain back to life. Alastor gave Vaggie a solid swat on the rear, which sent the demoness uncharacteristically still. Vaggie was such a skilled fighter, so why did she do nothing? Even if she couldn’t best him in a fight, why had she just let it happen?

Mia felt her stomach drop and blood churn. She seethed. Never had she felt so entirely consumed with loathing!

Where was Charlie?

Mia waited, looking for something to happen, for someone to call him out on his sh*t, for anyone to rip him to shreds for being so hateful and disgusting and vile and wretched!

But nothing came …

Vaggie stomped back into the office, slamming the door. Alastor moseyed off down the hallway looking pleased as could be. With nothing but blind fury and bad ideas, Mia rushed after him.

The instant she was within arms reach she wound her arm back. Every muscle in her body coiled, backing up the impending blow. A sharp sound echoed down the hall when she smacked him on the ass with a force that stung her hand.

Sigils started flashing. The hallway flickered in and out of existence. Red and black bled up the walls and around the carpet. A gnarled, demonic Alastor whipped around, his claws ripping through her skin, pinning her to the wall. His mouth split wide, eyes black with rage. His elongated maw was barely inches from her face. Rage drove her actions forward.

With all the force she could muster, Mia slammed her forehead down onto the bridge of his nose. Static screeched like a million record needles raking across an album, accompanied by a resounding crack. It must have shocked him that she retaliated. That gave her the half second she needed.

In that precious instance of Alastor’s confusion, she ripped her arm out from his claws, leaving deep gashes, and slugged him in the jaw. Surely she just broke several bones whilst ripping open the skin on her fist by catching his teeth. One cracked in half at least.

For all the times she’d seen Alastor do anything, she’d never seen him fight hand to hand. So maybe she had the advantage.

He snarled and morphed, shifting into something far more terrifying than a demon. The claws in her left shoulder sank deeper. His fist tightened, cracking the bones.

“Oh what,” she hissed through the seething pain, “too much of a little bitch to take what you dish out?”

That did it.

They weren’t in the hotel anymore. But they weren’t anywhere else either.

Creepy, patchwork shades and disembodied skeletal creatures soared around them. Strange, unfathomable objects and sigils flashed in and out of existence. Alastor was over twelve feet tall and truly a monster now. Grotesque felt like a kind and delusional description. His claws were literal hooks through her flesh, leaving Mia dangling like a butcher’s fresh kill. Black blood poured down his lips and teeth from the newly crooked nose.

“Boohoo,” she spat again. Though this time her voice quivered with pain and fear. The pain was sobering and her bravado waned.

Maybe she’d finally given up on her useless life. What was one more death when he’d fall at the feet of Lucifer, Gabriel, or perhaps even Charlie? Mia wanted him to suffer. If she had the capacity to torture him, she might have tried.

“You claim to be such a gentleman, but you’re a cowering piece of sh*t. Sexually assaulting someone who can’t take you on? A woman who won’t fight back just to protect the person they love? Vaggie doesn’t run that spear through your heart for Charlie’s sake. You pathetic waste of a man! Your mother would be ashamed to call you her so-”

The last syllable didn’t make it out as Alastor thrashed her into the ground, the world fading from red to black.

Chapter 28: Whump

Chapter Text

Mia
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 203

A woman with thick brown hair and deep honeyed skin hummed, sewing a blouse. She teetered back and forth in a rocking chair on a porch, the metronome of it matching each stitch. The world was gauzy, soft, and warm.

Why couldn’t she focus on the woman’s face?

Mia found a white linen shirt in her lap. She was hemming sleeves. Adding buttons. Poorly embroidering something to the inner cuff.

Since when could she sew?

Then she joined the woman’s tune. She knew this song.

What was it?

The world fell away to blissful disorientation. Then came the watered down sound of a piano.

Her fragile comfort chipped away with each note.

Light bled through her lashes but the world was dim. Whatever she laid in swaddled her like a cocoon. Mia wanted to snuggle in deeper and float to whatever world she’d just left. But she couldn’t move. Not well enough at least.

Her legs felt constrained. Her chest sore and impossibly heavy. Was her arm numb or simply not there? She couldn’t tell. Everything felt wrong.

Throbbing waves of pain cascaded through her muscles and nerves. Mia grunted and whimpered, starting to jerk about like a fish as panic set in.

Her head seethed so much that her stomach twisted with nausea. Saliva started pooling at her tongue as a familiar sensation tingled in her jaw.

Despite it all she kicked away what was apparently bedding. She launched upward, trying to stand, only to topple over face first on a hard floor. A metallic tang filled her mouth. Her poor tongue felt like it was on fire.

Her functional hand patted around frantically for support. Thankfully she found a wall to sag against but then she froze.

Legs stretched out beneath her, semi bare and a fleshy pink. So were her arms. Both were attached and she might have rejoiced if it wasn’t for how limply the left hung. It was in a disgustingly gruesome shape and her rings were missing.

All the consuming sensations came to a head as her body pumped with adrenaline. There were tapping sounds. When had the music stopped?

Oh God.

There stood Alastor.

Not smiling.

An unimpressed look stretched across his face. Actually, he could have been sneering at her, regarding her as no more than an insect. Weak. Annoying. Crushable.

The stress of it all won out. Mia retched onto the floor several times over. Acidic, nasty fluids coated her hair as she slumped over, too fatigued to do anything but stare.

He stepped closer.

She wanted to scream, but all effort to fight died in her throat. Now she feared for her life in earnest and hated it. Wouldn’t he at least do her the kindness of making it quick? No, she imagined he wouldn’t. Mia knew she’d wounded his pride and ego and all that accompanied his nonsense. Maybe he would torture her. Keep her alive and carve her up when he felt peckish.

Alastor knelt down and swept the hair from her face. He seemed unfazed by the sweat and bile matting it to her cheek. A handkerchief wiped away silent, stress induced tears. Something in his face softened but she couldn’t place it. Perhaps it was wishful thinking.

One long arm snaked around her shoulders, guiding her upright to help correct the uneven breathing. There was a snap and her hair felt less burdensome. The mess she made on the floor disappeared and her clothes were magicked into soft pajamas. His other arm curled under her knees and he picked her up like she weighed nothing. Shivering evolved into outright tremors as she thought of how cruel he could be and how pathetically vulnerable she was.

And yet Alastor sat on the bed. He moved gently, as if she would crack under the slightest manipulation. Mia couldn’t imagine how strange it all looked. She’d never seen him do anything but manhandle another creature! The control of her was so unfathomably delicate though. Alastor nestled her between his legs and against his chest. Claws combed through her hair, not to manage it, but kind petting motions that felt all too wonderful.

Mia sat like stone.

He maimed her.

Why did he try to comfort her?

What kind of sick, twisted game was this?

The most embarrassing part of it all was how well those comforting gestures worked. That primal, unrefined biological part of her brain accepted any solace, betraying any leftover sanity.

A demonic hand presented a familiar blue bottle next to her only functional one. She tried to grab it. God if she could drink it maybe she could run. That vial was the only thing she wanted but every movement failed her. Mia dropped it twice, unable to maintain a grip through her rattled nerves.

Alastor brought the bottle to her mouth, while his other hand kindly slipped under her jaw, not gripping or prying, but cradling in an effort to help. Humiliation was the farthest thing from her mind as she drank. It was smoother than normal, twice as bitter, but alleviated her stomach near instantly.

Mia didn’t know whether to attribute the potion or Alastor for the calming warmth twisting up her spine. Now she struggled to keep her head up as sleep dragged her backwards. Alastor noticed the strained bobble-head like motions. His right hand tenderly landed on her cheek. A low, panicked noise escaped from her throat. She was nothing but a terrified, injured animal at a hunter’s mercy.

“Shh shh,” he cooed, guiding her head into the crook of his neck. Perhaps the pleasant fuzziness skewed her senses, turning her brain to medicated mush, but he smelled wonderful. Rich, mellow spices and an almost sweet twinge.

“Rest and sleep. I owe you a sincere apology when you wake again.” His voice was warmer and deeper than she’d heard it before. Regretful even. Devoid of static. No laugh track. No lo-fi ASMR. Did he have the touch of an accent?

Alastor continued his petting, murmuring a soft melody.

Mia started to drift, her breathing turning steady. Exhaustion took her back to the blissful dream of sewing with the woman on a porch. The humming started again, replaced by an enchanting timber.

———

Alastor
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 203

Alastor absentmindedly twirled his staff.

On a typical day he was content, regardless of never-ending boredom. Life in Hell suited him!

But now he was nervous and the sheer act of feeling it disturbed him greatly. Normally he could siphon off unwanted emotions via Miles. The shade vehemently refused it this time! Ungrateful rapscallion! Alastor could never pinpoint how Miles existed but the shade was apart of him and most certainly distraught. What a fickle specter, getting tore up over one measly human!

Then the anger. Anger for how he could lose his temper. Anger for how he’d let her words scald and humiliate him. Anger for how he’d attacked her in the first place.

Mia Miller, ever the thorn in his side. She had no power! And yet he’d been cut deep, as if he were that scrawny, fearful, vexed child all over again.

Even worse was how he, clever mastermind and dealmaker extraordinaire, had forfeited their deal in his blind emotions. Demon magic knew and had those words not cut him to the bone, she’d be dead. Not that he would have minded.

Now he was bound to throw himself at Charlie’s feet. Thankfully there wasn’t a time limit but he’d not been on the faulting end of a contract before. Alastor wanted to tear and gnash at his own skin to stop that taunting, jittering feeling. He needed to coerce the woman and have her back track on that particular nuance.

He clawed a deep gash in the wall. It did nothing to ease his agitation. While straightening his jacket he remembered the girl’s jewelry situated in a breast pocket.

In an effort to alleviate her discomfort, for he was a gentleman and to judge her injuries, he’d removed her baubles.

Despite knowing she was human, nothing prepared him for the sight of it. The last time he’d seen a broken, bloodied human was the night he died. The sight of her then sent a jolt through him. It all felt too real now. He’d never hurt a woman before. Not like that. Not physically.

Emotions he’d abandoned decades ago were slowly simmering back to life.

In all his agitation, Alastor had meandered to the first floor hall. The lobby clanged and groaned 2AM as he passed by. With some luck, no one would notice her gone for a single evening. That disgusting mutt wasn’t all over her as usual. It was glaringly obvious to all that those siblings were at odds.

Then again, luck did not favor him.

Hushed shouting spilled from Charlotte’s office and he recognized the angry male voice as Milton.

“Have you not found her yet?”

Alastor sent a shade to be his eyes and ears.

“Are you sure she didn’t just go out or something?” Vagatha huffed, irritated. She placed herself between Charlotte and the angry mongrel.

“I don’t know!” The princess looked panicked and held her girlfriend’s hand.

“If she doesn’t turn up by morning, I’ll call Dad, but geez I think she can handle herself, I’m sure of it!”

“Charlotte,” hissed the dog, “I’d ask that you recall what she gave up to be here.”

The two girls exchanged nervous glances, but stood firm on the woman’s privacy and freedoms. Alastor felt grateful for their misguided confidence.

He rubbed his nose, then his jaw, snickering at how the bearcat head-butted him hard enough to break his nose. Then the hook that broke his tooth … In a different world he might have been amused or impressed. When was the last time someone had the nerve to confront him like that? Trying to brawl as if they were children in a school yard! Unbelievable, truly.

Still, all his suspicions were confirmed and he understood that he was utterly f*cked.

Why was she so insufferably important?! Who was the mutt? Why did Lucifer need to get involved and what exactly had she given up to be here? Why did she need to be here?

The countless questions threatened to rupture his temples.

Even if he couldn’t find out why, he needed to correct this immediately. How could he be so easily goaded?! He wasn’t a child!

Was he getting too old? Too careless? Oh the irony that his pride would be what kept him from being the Prince of Pride itself.

Then what came out of her ungrateful mouth! If only he’d removed her tongue instead!

Those words clung to his bones and penetrated every nerve. Deep, expertly ignored nerves. Most of his tactics were mental warfare, such as whacking Vagatha on the rear. An assertion of dominance. Was that considered sexually accosting now? So many sensitive whippersnappers filled Hell.

Modern rules and moral codes were difficult to keep up with, but he could consider seeing how he might have possibly crossed a line. He prided himself on being a gentleman alongside a murderous, wicked overlord.

A sepia picture of an aged, bright eyed woman stared at him. She held a wooden spoon while cooking in her favorite apron, their family cookbook open and propped on the window ledge. Had he done that while living and his mother heard of it, there would be no escaping her wrath. Alastor could stomach his mother’s anger, but not her disappointment and shame.

That smile was all he ever needed. It was all he ever worked for. When Alastor was old enough to hold a job, his father became his first victim. Thirteen years old, dismembering the disgusting, abusive man’s body to feed to the gators.

Alastor reveled in the memory, proud of the decision.

Their lives drastically improved once that monster ‘ran off to California’. Alastor spent all night penning that letter, plotting where to leave it, what to tell his mother. Despite his father being white, he loved a colored woman, and fathered a mulatto boy. No one bothered looking for him.

Vicious memories used to haunt his dreams. His mother’s terrified face. Beaten. Bruised. Broken. Alastor was angry with himself. Acting like his father was the only sin he intended to repent for.

“Forgive me Moman. I’ll do better,” he whispered, forehead pressed to the picture.

When Miss Miller broke down in his bedroom floor, he only saw the face of his mother trying to survive his father. Her too human expression twisted his heart. Had she looked like any other creature the fear would have been delicious.

Damn her for ruining such a delicacy.

Alastor decided to let her rest for another hour before returning her to the hotel. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t know how to remedy the situation. All he could see in his mind’s eye were frightened eyes. One pair like honey, another verdant, but both just as fierce.

Finally he worked up the courage to return home.

Despite the fact it was his bedroom, he knocked, as timid as a troubled boy. There were small rhythmic pings of a piano. The broken notes meant she only used one hand and poorly. He opened the door, prepared for the pathetic sight.

Her hand crashed down on the keys as he entered, causing his ears to flatten. What an ugly noise. She stood by the piano, left arm still limp, her shoulders and face looking worse for wear. Despite that defiant scowl, she shook like a leaf.

Regardless of the pale skin and warm hair, he only saw a ghost of his mother.

It reminded him of the last time his father beat his moman. She'd lost the round that day but in order to protect her son, she stood strong, but so terribly very afraid. Not afraid of the pain, he imagined, but afraid of dying at her husband’s hands thus abandoning her only child. It was that week he killed his father.

Alastor did what only prey should do, which was humiliating. But it was necessary.

He removed his jacket first. Every move he made caused her to flinch. Alastor said nothing but held up her jewelry in one hand. With a snap, the pieces materialized on her body. Instantly her demonic appearance took shape.

His hands were up in the air and he stepped slowly forward.

“St-s-stop,” she sputtered demandingly. His eyebrow shot up, not expecting her to actually speak. Since it was an improvement to vomiting on his floor, he stopped.

“S— sit.” Alastor heaved an annoyed sigh but complied. He sat on the floor cross legged, hands still up.

A small, wicked grin spread across her lips. “Bark.” At least her voice was returning.

Alastor’s head clicked to the side, eyes wide, fuming in disbelief. Despite controlling his reaction to the command, the motion was enough to startle her so much that she jerked, clamoring to the floor, head knocking onto the piano's corner.

Obviously she was having a worse day than he was.

Swallowing his pride, he said, in the most unpleasant, monotone voice he could muster, “Bark.”

He imagined she might have laughed, but instead came a wheezing giggle that made her so sore that she almost passed out again.

“Roll over.”

“You must be running a fever, dear.”

“Roll. Over.”

“You’ve gone insane and unhinged, I assure you.”

“Take’s one to know one, now roll over or I’ll ruin your life and die happy doing it.”

Alastor contemplated this. She was most certainly human. A human that Lucifer was personally invested in. Lucifer put this girl in that absolute farce of a charity project. Said charity project was under his protection. All potential positive out comes for himself relied on this absolutely maddening, death crazed monstrosity of a woman.

This hurt more than anything he could imagine. Rage filled his gut while he laid on his back, fists clenched so hard that claws pierced his flesh. Then he rolled until he was on his back once more. Alastor could feel his face boiling, trying to not enter a demonic rage. Self control had never appealed to him.

He couldn’t look at her. He didn’t move. As if his jaw were made of steel he asked, “Is that all, your majesty?”

Apparently the daft girl hadn’t realized that she’d stopped breathing during her blood hound’s new trick. When she started again, she laughed so hard and so loud that she actually passed out from the pain and lack of oxygen.

Alastor laid there in shame, glaring at the slumped form on the rug. “Are you pleased Moman? I hope you can forgive me because I think killing her might have been the correct choice after all.”

Eventually he got up and moved her to the bed. Oddly, using his magic to do it felt wrong given his guilt. Alastor forced another healing draught down her throat, uninterested in being gentle. One hand squeezed her jaw open and the other poured the liquid down the back of her throat.

He considered killing her once more.

This was truly Hell.

Alastor penned a letter, then picked up the bearcat. Up close he realized how fine tuned the magic was. Certainly Lucifer’s handiwork. What was that insane being planning? What a fine mess he had involved himself in. Was this moment predetermined by fate?

Surely not!

That would mean every decision, every struggle was for not and he’d been just as well not doing it. He wondered how the atheists felt when they landed in Hell. The Radio Demon could sympathize with them. Why bother with believing when you couldn’t produce results?

He tucked her in, wondering if her wings were comfortable when sleeping. Surely her comfort was irrelevant? Alive should have been good enough! Deep in his mind stood the ghost of his mother though. As a small kindness he slipped off the ring of her index finger.

The bruising and damage was stark against her human skin.

Guilt racked him all over again. Compared to his long clawed hands hers were laughably small and too soft despite all those chores. His free hand brushed at the inside of her palm, pressing gently at the supple flesh. Surely his mother’s hands were soft and clean and warm in Heaven.

Alastor tucked her in properly and twisted his letter into her ring, leaving both on the night stand. Afterwards he returned home to pen a letter to Charlie about a nonexistent, impromptu business and would be gone for the next three weeks.

———

Mia
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 201

Mia woke up in her bed, stretching, yawning, feeling light and rested. She fished her phone out from under a pillow. That’s where she kept it in fear of over sleeping. The phone screen showed 5:47AM. Her heart thudded hard with panic as she flung herself out of bed.

How had she slept through her alarm?

While brushing her teeth she noticed pink skin as opposed to charcoal. Her ring wasn’t on her finger. Maybe she’d pulled it off in her sleep? After rinsing she pulled on some jeans and a t-shirt with a proper hole in the back. On her nightstand was her ring, but a piece of parchment was rolled into it.

Suddenly yesterday’s events thundered through her mind. Her hand shot up to feel her left shoulder and arm. Perfectly fine, maybe even better. Mia put on the ring and unrolled the letter anxiously.

Miss Miller,

I owe you an apology and a thank you. My treatment of Vagatha was ill mannered and crass. As was my treatment of you upon defending her honor. Your assessment of my behavior was fair, thus I hope to rectify these egregious acts. In addition to your ‘requests’ of me last night, I hope you will take this letter to heart and find my intentions honest.

While unfortunate, I have violated the terms of our arrangement. In doing so I am indebted to you.

Should this matter stay between us, I will owe you even greater reparations. At a later date we can discuss the details, but you have my word as this letter is magicked to act as a level of security.

If you accept these tentative, non-binding terms, I request you sign your name at the bottom of the page. Another will appear with more information once you do.

Though, if you decide to share this happenstance with others I have no intentions of stopping you or acting untoward.

Sincerest apologies,

Alastor

“What?”

She turned the page over. Held it up to the light. She even smelled it. There had to be a trick or some madness involved. Was she really supposed to believe this garbage?

Unfortunately, she did.

Mia thought hard. Of course, she’d gotten an eternity’s worth of black mail out of him. Now he was offering her something in return for her silence. It was a valuable thing to have, the Radio Demon’s debt and favor. Telling Lucifer and Gabriel would surely get her removed from the hotel alongside any chance of an enjoyable life in Hell. Then Charlie would lose her working partner and Mia couldn’t deny the talent Alastor had for business.

She stomped over to her desk and pulled out one of her fountain pens. At the bottom she simply signed, Mia.

The letters crackled and blazed red. With magic the paper suddenly peeled into two pieces. The original paper was still fine. Looking at the new one, she read.

Good girl.

She shivered at those opening words. But it wasn’t a product of fear. Given the circ*mstances, shame washed over her. God this place was f*cking with her head. No wonder it was Hell.

I’ll be certain to not underestimate you in the future dearest. As previously stated, I would request we sit down and decide on what may help smooth over our little rough patch. You have my gratitude. If you wish to reach me, please pass any letters to Husker. He is a drunk, but a reliable and discreet drunk.

In the interest of giving your mind and nerves appropriate time to recuperate, I will be absent from the hotel for three weeks. Please stay out of more trouble in the mean time. You’re quite the reckless sort. There is a small gift on your bed in the meantime. A token to celebrate our impending arrangement. Also to keep you alive.

Warm Regards,

Alastor

Mia snorted.

“Not the first time I’ve been called reckless.” Her eyes darted to her bed where a slip of paper did wait. As she picked it up, she was confused by her own acceptance of the situation. Why was all of this so exciting?

An open wooden box was filled with the potions she’d become all too familiar with over the past few months. She couldn’t deny being grateful. It meant she had some control over her own lively hood in the mean time. Thankfully they were small enough that she could stuff three comfortably in her bra.

———

Charlie
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 197

“Babe?”

Charlie could see something written all over Vaggie’s face. But like always, the bulletproof Latina was hiding it from her. She crawled over the bed and gingerly folded Vaggie into her arms. That slate face and iron clad will was all but impenetrable most days.

“I know something is wrong Vaggie, and I get that you don’t want to share, but …”

Vaggie didn’t look up, but she did press into her girlfriend. It was a start.

“We’ve not been dating that long and if you don’t trust me, I understand, but you’ve been so quiet for the past week and I just want you to know that I love you.” Charlie smiled, mild and sweet, hoping to not be overwhelming. At times her ‘cheer everyone up or die’ mentality was too much, especially for Vaggie.

Being the princess of Hell, she could easily find out anything about any mortal's life but she didn’t. Despite knowing that Vaggie suffered from trust issues, serious debilitating trauma, and something that caused her to despise men even at a distance, she didn’t pry. Charlie understood that certain things can never be undone.

Maybe if they ever broke up she’d peak into Lucifer’s tome, but otherwise, she would never break her love’s trust like that.

“I do trust you. It’s just … I’m not there yet. One day I hope to be.”

Charlie pulled her tight, grateful that her demon strength couldn’t suffocate Vaggie. “We have all the time you need, my love.”

Vaggie turned to face Charlie, smiling with wet cheeks. An inferno of Hell’s rage cropped up in the princess. To think she, the literal Anti-Christ who could carve terror and angst into any creature in existence, was a pacifist. A loving, warm souled, gentle, caring, protective, happy go lucky pacifist. There were time’s where her more demonic tendencies cropped up. As a child she worked hard to reel in her admittedly extreme emotions.

But all of that paid off as she kissed away the inky tears, nuzzling into silky hair the color of moonlight.

“I promise I’ll tell you one day, but I want you to know that, this helps. You being here, just for me, helps.”

Love swelled in her chest as she held Vaggie, curled into her, grateful for the privilege of loving someone so strong.

———

Husk
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 194

Husk knocked on the door, hoping he finally had the right address. It took a lot of resources and talking and gambling to get this apartment number. For what Hell was concerned, the joint was swanky. He’d actually snuck in through the roof and service ways. It had to be the right place given the security.

The door swung open to reveal a small blue demoness, strung out and dressed up in what may as well have been shoe laces.

She chattered off in Mandarin, asking if he was the guy they were expecting. Husk didn’t bother answering and pushed in past her. It seemed like he caught the after-after-after party as there were bedazzled, drunk, stoned, high, and passed out hookers draped over every surface imaginable.

There he was though, looking like Cleopatra, clacking away on his cell phone. He stomped over to Angel Dust who didn’t look up. “I’ll be with ya in a bit toots. Gotta wrap up some business. Can ya get Daisy to pour me som-”

“It’s me Angel.” His gruff voice didn’t match a single thing in the tricked out, candy painted room.

Angel Dust whipped around so fast that his heart shaped sunglasses nearly flew off. Less than a second later he had Husk by the arm, dragging him out of the apartment, down the hall and into another empty one.

“How the f*ck did ya get in here Husky?”

Neither of them moved to sit down. Husk felt a nagging pulling sensation all over his body, as if he couldn’t close the distance between them fast enough if they tried. That feeling was so delicately poised, it felt like even the wrong breath would ruin his resolve.

“Piss off with the bullsh*t Legs. What are you tryin’ to do? You’ve got all them broads sick over you.”

“f*ck them broads,” he scoffed, pulling the old Hollywood robe tight. Despite having eight eyes, not a one could spare the cat a look.

“Cherri came by with Fat Nuggets. Though by just how stressed the pig is he won’t be fat for much longer.”

Angel stomped forward, looking pissed but that was enough to break Husk’s neutral facade. A hissing growl ripped from his throat as he spun Angel into the wall. While their chests pressed together his fist landed squarely next to Angel’s face.

Husk’s free hand slid down a bare white shoulder. His nose landed on Angel’s cheek, resting there as if he were suddenly exhausted. Actually, he was exhausted.

All the worrying and searching ate away at him. Worried for all the dames in the hotel missing Angel Dust. Worried about that stupid pig he’d grown so accustomed to seeing adorable pictures of. Worried about just how fragile Angel was and how this disgusting, nasty cesspit of a studio would rip him to shreds even more.

What worried Husk the most was how Angel might change from being kind, loud, sweet, and uncertain into some kind of monster that was manipulative and cruel.

“Angel, what the f*ck you tryin’ to do here? You ain’t like Valentino.”

Four arms pushed him back with unbridled demonic strength. Husk’s wings softened the blow but there was definitely a few cracks in the wall now. Angel looked furious, weeping and bruised as two pistols shook violently in his left hands. The right ones were clinging to the couch back in an effort to keep him up right.

“YOUS GET THE f*ck OUTTA HERE!”

Husk held up his hands and backed out of the room. As the door slammed in his face, he felt a strange twinge that he didn’t recognize right away. It took nearly five miles, four drinks, seven punches to some guy’s face, and one sandwich to realize that he was heart broken.

Chapter 29: Business

Chapter Text

Mia
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 178

Three weeks raced by with Nifty as her second unofficial tour guide. Apparently Alastor used quite the incentive of some sort. Mia couldn’t imagine what. And thus the tiny demoness dragged her to clubs, cafes, bookstores, a university, museums, and even Sir Pentious’s lab!

Seriously, how long had it been since she’d felt any kind of normal?

They didn’t talk about it, how Nifty came with the same scary dog benefits as Alastor. To a degree at least. Plenty of demons left them alone in his stomping grounds. And if not, Nifty was capable and shared some kind of protective, magical, shadowy bond.

It irked Mia to know he could have left her in peace with a shade! Then again she had specified Miles at the time. Devil in the details and all that nonsense. Either way, Nifty made it all the more fun and she stopped thinking about the Radio Demon mostly.

Gabriel left again and their relationship wasn’t the same. He didn’t police her. Didn’t nag. Didn’t drag her to exhausting, ruthless trainings. Didn’t smile at her and make snide, dry jokes. It hurt, but what could she do? On top of that Lucifer was down right ignoring her. Charlie said something about him being busy in Wrath.

The world and people around her were changing and there wasn’t anything she could do. Mia was forced to go along for the ride.

“Looks like you could use a drink,” Husk called out from the bar.

Mia grinned and sat down, impressed with how he could read any and everyone. A week ago they all sat down to play poker and Husk cleaned them out.

“Heard you an’ Milton talkin’ a while back.”

Mia’s wings twitched as she avoided his gaze. Maybe he meant their sh*t talking Alastor … or the food. Or anything really.

“Or should I say Gabriel.”

Or maybe it was exactly as she feared. Blood drained from her face and the world zeroed in on Lady Luck’s favorite cat.

He slid over her drink hoping the small gesture negated any ill will and leaned over the bar. Low and slow he explained, “I got a contract with Al. Angel’s signed with Valentino. Means I can’t do sh*t to those media maniacs without starting an outright up civil war. If you an’ dog boy really are what you say you are then that means you might be able to get Legs outta that sh*t show.”

Was this extortion? Maybe black mail? She’d momentarily forgotten the distinction. “I don’t understand Husk. Why not ask Charlie? Why not ask Alastor?”

What was it with her complete aversion to denial? Mia couldn’t figure out why she never said ‘no, f*ck you, go away, peace out’.

“Cause Princess would turn this into a big f*ckin’ who-do and Vaggie would spear the idea. Alastor won’t do it. You know that. I need this done and I need your help.” His voice was pointed yet ashamed. His fist clenched tight on the bar, head bowed to hide the obvious emotions.

That fallout she had with Gabriel was weeks ago which had to mean Husk exhausted any other ideas. For someone so resourceful and gruff to ask her for help must mean one thing, “You’re in love with Angel.”

The cat grunted and coughed, red from neck to cheeks.

Husk straightened up to full height and stared her dead in the eyes.

Pain.

She could see it smeared across his face and through the tension of his body. Despite that, it was his answer. Husk was asking her because she wouldn’t refuse him and, just maybe, could pull it off. Then again he didn’t know she was just an entire farce of a person, stacking lie upon lie about who she was.

She was suddenly grateful for the drink and slammed it back.

“Al’s a cruel son of a bitch. I belong to him. For now at least. I’m more than halfway through my contract with him and if I can avoid signing my soul to him for longer I will. Plus there’s no telling what he would do with Angel’s contract," he explained.

“All of this is for Angel ..."

Oh boy. Mia recognized the telltale sensation in her skull.

The one where she knew she was about to start something, running in head first while damning the consequences. Unprepared but willing to shoulder the pain and danger to protect others. Curse her wretched soft heart. If these two had a real chance together and she could help them, wasn't that the point of redemption? Even she needed to right her wrongs and Angel had certainly suffered enough.

Mia knocked on the bar and he made the second drink with no snark and extra booze.

"I’ll think of something. Just give me a couple weeks. This isn’t something that can be solved overnight. Do you know why he signed in the first place?”

Husker nodded, swigging his bottle. “Angel’s gotta older brother, Arackniss. Val convinced Angel to sign away his soul sometime during the 80s when gangs clashed without rhyme or reason. In exchange, Valentino would never confront, talk to, employ, or acknowledge the existence of Arackniss. f*ck, even funded the guy’s business on occasion.”

“That’s heavy. Do you know where Arackniss is?”

“I can find out.”

Mia nodded, mind oddly blank. She should have got up and left, but morbid curiosity got the better of her. “Uh, I gotta question. Is— well, is Alastor bad to you and Nifty? I mean contracting your soul to the Radio Demon isn’t exactly what I would call a great idea, but maybe there’s some redeeming quality about him? Deep, deep, deep f*cking down.”

Husk eyed her, but given he was on the asking side, he obliged the peculiar question.

“Al’s just … annoying, overbearing, manipulative, and gets kicks out of watching people suffer. So technically, yes.”

Mia's head shook, “That sounded like a no …”

“For where Hell is concerned it’s a yes. That f*ckin' mama’s boy is a sad*st but he’s softer on Nifty than me. Chivalry ain’t dead but it is a cannibal.”

That made her laugh a little too much. Funny couldn’t describe the irony or absolute oxymoron that was the red asshat.

Finally, Mia stood up and thanked Husk for the info. Though maybe he should be the one thanking her? She didn’t feel bullied or extorted as she walked away, but that was her damn fault. When it came to being nosey or fixing other people’s problems, she lacked judgement.

———

Mia
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 173

Five days later Husk delivered Arackniss's information. And every day while waiting, Mia exhausted herself trying to breathe life into a plan.

She needed to deal with this her own way. Approaching Lucifer or Gabriel was out of the question. No doubt they wouldn’t help her and f*ck them for being lying assholes. One day she’d sit them both down and rake them over coals for this madness!

Husk was dead on about Charlie. That left the one demon Husk didn’t want involved: Alastor.

The difference was, she had leverage.

She made a habit of watching how Alastor acted with Nifty and the other women. Mia was shocked at how gentlemanly he could be, especially after the assault on Vaggie. But he knew he was being watched. Surely it was all a cleverly concocted ruse.

Every so often his gaze fell on Mia with an all too charming smile, yet he never approached.

Actually it was far worse than a ruse. Of the early mornings before starting breakfast, she’d find a cup of coffee near perfect to her taste. It came in a brand new mug, sporting a math joke: ‘I’m always 90° ’ under a right angle doodle.

Mia hated liking it.

Another time she’d come across a book: a popular science fiction novel written by a Hellborn demon. Then came another book about the unique plants of Hell and their history. Mia secretly read both in her room. She could hate him without being wasteful, she supposed. Why trash perfectly innocent books?

“You got this. Angel’s future. Charlie's plan. Redemption. Making that bastard regret being born,” she muttered.

Now, over a month since their untimely encounter, it was time to face the Radio Demon.

Every step to his office made her stomach tighten and bubble. Before she could knock, the door clicked, inching open like a B-tier horror movie. Wonderful. He was expecting her.

Mia found Alastor leaning against his desk, all smiles just for her. Even for him this was a bit too staged and painfully contrived. Why bother trying to seem cool? Surely he had to be on edge! And if he wasn’t, she hated him all the more for it.

“Why if it isn’t my makeshift demoness! Come sit!”

Mia tried to wrench back as he came closer, but Alastor whisked her into an armchair next to the large window. It didn’t overlook the hotel’s outside, but instead a bayou with impressive foliage, weeping willows, and a cobblestone walkway. Mia noted that while all the plants were immaculate, there were no flowers. Who could hate flowers!?

What a maniac.

On the table between them sat a tray of freshly conjured coffee and other niceties.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, ma jolie proie?”

Mia knew what ‘ma jolie’ meant finally and the stupidest part of her wondered if he meant it. If he sincerely considered her pretty? Where the last word was concerned, she was too chicken to Google it.

“You asked me to be here.” Mia struggled to maintain the calmest facade possible. To say this was out of her element was an understatement. But she needed to help Husk.

Getting Angel out of that sh*t show meant helping Charlie. Her sweet, cute, puppy-like niece could use a win.

It would be worth it.

Then again, was dealing with Alastor ever worth it?

“Care for a cup, dearest?” His hand swept politely over the table. Without any acceptance on her part, a shadowy figure smaller than Miles served them. The inky creature handed her the cup, made a near purring noise as it inched closer, then evaporated away. The coffee itself was good, but tasted quite different than anything she was familiar with.

Being genuinely curious, she asked, “What kind of roast is this?”

He sipped his coffee and flashed her a smile. An absolutely delighted, malicious smile. “Crystalized demon blood and various spices! The Cannibal Colony has the most unique blends.”

Jesus f*cking Christ.

Mia resisted the urge to fling herself out of the room. She knew Alastor’s tastes first hand, but would have never guessed he'd serve it to people!

Yet another non verbal challenge between them it seemed. He wanted to watch her squirm and suffer and become sick, horrified, angry, or all of the above.

No. f*ck that. Mia steeled herself. This was no time to back down. She sipped the coffee again, hearing the faintest scratch of a record needle. What a blessing it was to set him on edge!

“It’s pretty good actually. Unique,” she flashed a warm smile, taking yet a third drink from the cup.

This victory tasted spicy and a touch metallic but not necessarily bad. Her coffee addiction prepared her for this exact moment. Forget seraphim, this was her true calling.

Mia didn’t give Alastor the chance to make some cutting quip. “Let’s get to brass tax. You owe me and doubly so, if I recall. Unless you’d like to drag yourself to Charlie’s feet, then ultimately Lucifer’s, I suggest you comply with zero gimmicks. You work for me now.”

He cackled and hawed as if she were the finest comedian in Hell.

“Oh ho ho! Such a brave, feisty darling girl! Bravado fit for a stage! Yes, I am well aware of what you’re owed for my accosting nature. Rest assured we won’t find ourselves in anything, but harmonious partnership! Our amended contract will suit you fin-”

“Absolutely not!” She spat. “No more contracts. No more agreements. You f*ck with me, you’re done. That’s it.”

He sneered and smiled at the same time somehow, taking a long sip. Tightly and with a growl, he added, “It seems you have something in mind.”

Trying to matching even a fraction of his imposing nature, she squared up, crossing her legs and staring him dead on. No more squirming, frightened girl.

“I’m sure you’re aware of Angel’s contract with Valentino. I may have a solution to free him that could benefit everyone involved. I would like for you to make a contract, one I approve of, with Angel’s older brother, Arackniss,” she said tossing the black spider's picture and info on the table, “and then supply me with the funds to buy out Angel from Valentino. Afterwards both contracts are transferred to me. And—”

Alastor stared a hole through her skull.

Mia swallowed, “Your obedience won’t go unrewarded since impending doom doesn’t motivate you.”

“Your plan lacks finesse and good sense,” he hissed.

Her eyes rolled hard, “As if that was the whole plan!”

“Souls are worth more than money. Do you really lack any business experience?”

“You really are an assuming ass, you know? Of course I know that! The money sweetens the pot, but in reality, Valentino will have no choice but to give me Angel. Not if he’s half the business man his reputation makes out.”

Alastor’s severe expression wavered to that of contemplation. During an odd act of silence he snapped, refilling their cups, waiting for her to continue.

Mia took a drink of the cannibal coffee and explained, “The Prince of Lust, Asmodeus, is known to have several high ranking, loose cannons wandering free throughout Pride. Saying no to one of them is tantamount to insulting Asmodeus. I have all this information on good authority. I intend to impersonate a Hellborn who wants Angel to themself and make Valentino a deal he quite literally cannot refuse. Well unless he wants to f*ck himself over. Overlords are strong, but they’re nothing to Goetia, well, except maybe you.”

Stroking his ego, no matter how disgusting it felt, worked in her favor as he seemed to loosen up. Alastor hummed and tapped his claws against the porcelain mug. “And what would you know of the Ars Goetia? That kind of knowledge is severely restricted in Pride.”

“We both know I’m quite special,” she said, giving herself some credit. “Like you, I have interesting friends. Also, if you tell anyone about this, obviously, consider that forfeiting your soul.”

He quirked a brow at her, “I’d dare not dream of it. This can be our fun little secret, since you trust me so blindly.”

Why didn’t she have the ability to strangle him? Sure, one cut of her glaive and he’d be gone for good but she just wanted him to suffer in front of her some too.

“Mô bèt fenm, what happens when Valentino and his derelict entourage realize they’ve been had and come for your pretty little head? That is, if you even get through the door without being decapitated.”

She shrugged, “Already taken care of. I have mimicking a Hellborn covered. Part of the exchange for Angel is being able to traverse and do business in Lust. Angel is popular sure, but one p*rn star can’t compare to the opportunities available in Lust.”

“Mortals souls can’t move through the rings,” he drawled, as if she were a slow child.

Mia snickered at his unknowing, excited to be on the winning end for once.

“See, you’re right about information being controlled. But I know more than you do. All demons, Hellborn and mortal alike can traverse the rings. But what happens is, the instant a mortal soul steps into another ring, a complex series of magic alarms set off and the culprit is dragged immediately into the prison of the Ars Goetia in Wrath. Then they’re held indefinitely without trial.”

His mouth fell open and Alastor looked perplexingly human, trying to digest what she was saying. “And how would you know that to be true?”

Of course, she wasn’t going to explain that Vassago had set up the entire system himself or had explained it all in painstaking detail. He really was an amazing genius and wonderful brother. Without him she’d be dead on arrival. Apparently being bored and liking her memes was enough motivation. Mia wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“I know things. So to answer your question, Valentino will never find out and he’ll rot in Wrath. I’ve heard some delightfully nasty things about Satan’s prisons. It makes your work look like child’s play.”

“You insolent, co—” His eyes went to dials, teeth bared, claws ripping into the arm rests.

Her hand shot up to stop him as she sat like ice, focused on remaining calm. “Before you cross a line you can’t come back from, I’m not making you do this. Yes, your other option is abysmal at best, but who knows what would happen. And like I said, you won’t go unrewarded.”

“And what might you be able to offer me of all demons?”

“Mercy for starters. And answers. You participate willingly and without any tricks, schemes, deceit, ill-intent, or whatever nonsense. I’m willing to trade information that you couldn’t dream of.”

The frustration on his face brought her an unbridled sense of joy. Static raked through the air, causing bits of her hair to fluff up, but that was nothing given what caused it. Alastor deserved this, to feel small and helpless at the whim of someone he deemed lesser.

Mia stood, pointing to Arackniss’s photo. “Draft up a contract and make sure you’re free tomorrow after dinner to discuss it. In the meantime, do try to behave and not piss me off.”

She didn’t bother to look back as she strolled out. That line of haughty, albeit cringe, confidence took every nerve she had, but damn, did she sound so cool! Mia wondered if she had the chops to be an actor, but the gelatinous feeling in her knees said otherwise.

———

Alastor
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 172

Alastor, lacking smile or decorum, shoved a contract in her face. Mia took it over to his office couch and started reading. The only time she looked away was to grab the never empty coffee on the end table.

Finally the silence ended with her heaving a relieved sigh, “Other than a couple small semantics and a few ground rules, I think this is fine.”

“Did you expect me to shirk my responsibilities? Dear girl, I’m hurt.”

Mia watched as he set up a record on a near gleaming gramophone. As soon as the music started he jerked her up by the hand, attempting a dance.

Like lightning she ripped away and pushed against is chest. The force of it sent her sailing backwards, as opposed to Alastor.

“f*ck no!” She hissed and scowled, one finger point indignantly. “Abso-f*cking-lutely not. You pushed me off a building. You nearly tore my arm off. You treated me like a Red Cross drive thru! And you want to dance?!”

Alastor simply shrugged, feigning disappointment, but the facade failed given that wicked smile. “And here I was under the assumption you’d reward your loyal courier. There simply aren’t enough good dance partners in Hell, ma jolie proie!”

“Fine, you can ask a question.” She hated to even think it, but he had put together a shockingly reasonable contract that explicitly stated it would be transferred to her.

“Two questions,” he countered.

“Only if I get to ask one myself and I get to go first.”

“Are you not concerned with my honesty?”

Of course she was, but even if he lied, she’d get what she wanted all the same. Or at least she hoped so. Mia always thought herself clever, but more clever than a demon? And when the stakes were high? Risk was Hell’s main currency.

“No, I’m not.”

Over the last few days she wondered long and hard about Alastor and his angle. f*ck, she nearly wasted a full 76 hours on it! He tolerated her existence and left her alive. Had he killed her, no one would know it was him. Just a dumb human that wandered off and died.

It all pointed to a prize hanging in the balance.

Mia swallowed, choosing her words carefully, “I think you’re at this hotel because you have something to gain. If you were all boredom and chaos, I’d be dead but you’ve not allowed that. Credit where credit is due, you’ve kept me alive. You’re playing chess, not checkers. So what is it that you have to gain?”

Alastor clapped, “Astucieux comme un fouet! It is as you say, I’ve been offered a promotion!”

Dumbfounded, she prattled, “The only one who can offer a mortal a ‘promotion’ is Lucifer. What kind of promotion? Does Charlie know about this?”

Fanfare and buzzers blared. “Here I thought your brain had gone to rot in Hell! Pride is in need of a new Prince! Now, I consider myself a solemn, humble demon, but we must take our opportunities as they come! And sweet Charlotte is to stay unaware of her father’s underhanded support.”

Of course Lucifer planned this madness from the beginning. At times she forgot that everyone around her was billions of years old. She felt foolish for thinking she could manage at their level. But then again, she thought eyeing Alastor, maybe two heads really are better than one.

“All this to join the Goetia. That’s pretty impressive. Be sure to remember us chumps at the top.”

“Why, you’re certainly no chump. But now it’s my turn,” he grinned, snapping. She found herself situated in his desk chair. Her personal scourge loomed, not touching as she demanded, but had one hand on each arm rest, imprisoning her all the same.

Mia did all she could to ball up tight, mentally begging for just an extra millimeter between them. It felt too similar to when he skewered her. She could kick him in the chest or worm her way under his arms, but that required getting closer.

“Why did Lucifer allow you to come to Hell?”

Her face burned, eyes trying to find anywhere else to look. “For protection. ”

Short answers only.

“And why is it that he wants to protect you, hmm?”

“We’re family. There, I answered you, so move.”

Blood thundered in her ears. Why hadn’t she lied?

“Now don’t be daft my dear, I answered an extra two of your questions, and quite honestly. I’m owed the same decency, no?”

Why was she stupid? Every time she thought she could manage on wit, her unbridled mouth made mounds of trouble. “Fine, two more.”

Carefully, he asked, “And how is it you’re related to Lucifer?”

Mia’s mouth twisted.

“I’m his sister.”

Alastor’s nose nearly brushed hers and there was no where else to run. No where else to look.

“And your real name?”

Red eyes bore into her like hot knives.

“Michael.”

The world stopped as Alastor jerked back, eyes squinting like he couldn’t see well enough. He stalked around the chair, making strange faces, tilting his head.

“Are you lying?”

“That makes five!”

He summoned a book, pages sputtering with magic. Finally, his claw jabbed to a page, “Aha, you are lying! Or clinically insane. Clearly you take me for a fool and I will not be treated as a bumbling dolt for your entertainment!”

Mia turned incredulous, “ME?! If anyone is a manipulative, two faced lying sh*t lord, its you! I can’t believe you don’t believe me!”

“And why might I do that? You’re plainly human and everything concerning squalid angels— musical, theatrical, or otherwise, reports the Archangel Michael to be a man! Which I find you are not!”

“Ever think they were lying? Ever think maybe they had a reason to lie? Do you not remember the creepy crawly blood sucking monster on Halloween? I’m being hunted. All of us are being hunted! You don’t know anything do you?”

Mia let out a frustrated groan into her palms, stomping both feet down like a child. She didn’t need to argue with him, so why was she? All he ever did was unravel her nerves and turn her into a mindless freak! Then again, his argument was her exact one from when Gabriel whisked her into this awful fantasy land.

Alastor jabbed a pamphlet in her face, sporting a gorgeously dressed Lilith.

𝐻𝐸𝐿𝐿: 𝑅𝒾𝓈𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑀𝑜𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇

Apparently Lucifer had written it while Lilith performed it. Several of the depictions were gruesome and to be expected, but one was different. Two men locked in a parry. One held a long glaive with opalescent wings. The other swung a flaming sword, sporting molting bloodied wings.

Despite the artistic interpretation, it was her hair, eyes, and weapon. Mia sighed and removed her ring.

She held the picture next to her human face and pointed, “See! Plus, Luci and I are the same height. ”

He yanked it back, eyes flitting between her and the image before concluding, “This is vastly underwhelming.”

Ouch. Mia felt that one because she wholeheartedly agreed. Everyone told her these secrets were important to keep! Ground breaking revelations and all that! And yet here was Alastor looking terribly disappointed, as if someone stole the demon arm he’d saved for a snack.

And actually, it felt nice to tell someone. Even if it was Alastor.

“So I’ve heard,” she snarked, moving for the door. “You know what, I’m done here.”

“Oh ho ho! Not quite Miss Miller!” His hand shot out to grab her arm, but he stopped short, eyeing the spot as if debating whether he really should. Relief washed down her when his hand dropped.

“I’m quite certain you’re human.” It sounded more like a question despite how he’d proven more than once that she was. If anyone knew how fragile Mia was, it had to be Alastor and his appetite.

“It’s definitely a story, but yes, I am. And I’ll die one day, but that doesn’t mean I’m going down without a fight.”

“And when might you share this story?”

She shrugged, “Maybe never.”

Chapter 30: Strangeness

Chapter Text

Alastor
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 171

It took less than 24 hours to locate and strong arm the elder spider demon into a contract. Arackniss made Angel Dust look like a well mannered debutante. Alastor found that mind boggling and utterly terrifying.

From the lobby balcony he spied Miss Miller playing cards with Nifty, Charlotte, and two other patrons. Not a single aspect of her stood out. If anything he found her frightfully plain compared to the masses of Hell.

He’d seen angels descend with their spears and strange uniforms, but unlike the pamphlet, they all sported two wings. Years ago he managed to snuff out a few, but even he’d barely survived and never bothered for a rematch. Now he watched from distant shadows, impressed by their wicked carnage. Given how pitiless the angelic horde was and how ruthless Lucifer could be, his opinion of holy beings turned out piss poor.

For better or worse, he believed she wasn’t lying and the truth made it all the more maddening.

Surely this weak bleeding hearted fool wasn’t the one who’d defeated Lucifer? Though, what was true now? Had Lucifer even been cast from Heaven? He found himself questioning a world he did well to not bother with.

Alastor wanted answers. Craved them. What a thorn, knowing that she had all the answers! How irksome that he might have been able to drag it out of her if he’d not lost his temper! Ridiculous bearcat! Wild, unpredictable, and infinitely more entertaining than harassing the hotel patrons.

Suddenly she shot up, answering that infernal phone, then profusely apologized, rushing out the door with a bag.

He stole into her shadow as she jogged down the drive. With the protection of the hotel behind her, he noticed a knife clutched in her fist. What a silly dame!

“You’ll need a stronger grip than that!” He chimed, slipping the blade from her hand. Cheerily, Alastor began twirling it between his fingers.

Her off guard screech alerted the entire street to his presence. Any demon with sense ducked in the nearest doorway.

One hand clutched over her thumping heart and he snickered.

Her face twisted with anger and confusion, “Why are you following me?!”

“Now now!” He scolded, as a shade nudged her into walking next to him. “Surely someone of your prestige shouldn’t be without protection given your feeble state!”

“Do you not remember how you royally f*cked that up?”

“Miss Miller! Here I thought your sort above grudges and foul language! We’re business partners! Working towards the betterment of Hell! Seeing sweet Charlotte’s dreams take fruition!”

“You are the worst,” she spat.

He nearly giggled, appreciating the sentiment, “And delightfully so! Where are you off to in such a frenzy?”

“You’re going to follow me the whole way, aren’t you?” Almost too easily she accepted her fate and picked up the pace. There was an odd shift in her demeanor though. While she watched him like a hawk, she seemed far less twitchy and paranoid.

“If you must know, I’m going to practice.”

“Ah yes, that mange ridden mongrel and the imps! You’ll have to excuse me for not staying, but being around that flea infested hound is disgusting.”

“Loona is perfectly clean, you ass,” she grumbled, clacking away at that infernal, blinking brick. Alastor, given his height, was well situated to read the screen.

“Do you always depend on the imps to get you back safely?”

She shoved it into her pocket and glowered up at him. “They’ve done a far better job than some demons. They have a whole business dedicated to killing humans and yet they’ve done magnificently at keeping me safe.”

“So they’re aware of your situation?”

Given the bizarre contortions of her face, he expected a complicated, contrived answer.

Alastor didn’t press the issue. Another detail intrigued him, “They kill humans?”

The way her face always shifted from one blatant emotion to another near left him giggling. No wonder she was such a wretched card player. Easier to read than a picture book.

“Their commercial is on through the entirety of Pride! How could you miss it? They aren’t exactly hush-hush on the whole operation. Kids get killed free and all that jazz.” He sneered, emanating a low growl at this ‘business venture’. Demons preying on human children for free left a distinctly homicidal taste in his mouth.

“They’re permitted to carry on this way?” Disdain dripped from his tongue.

No matter how she tried to hide it, an obvious shiver raked down her body. “Listen, you need to understand that certain siblings consult me on nothing. Zip. Nada. Zilch. I’m the glorified placeholder of someone who used to be. What I’ve gleaned is that certain sects of Hellborns can access Earth. A sort of bastardized practitioner’s license? I’ve wondered about it myself but this is Hell and logic fails me every time. But to be clear, I don't agree with it.”

Alastor could imagine that swarms of mortal souls craved to be reunited with Earth for whatever reasons. Especially all the genocidal maniacs and aged war lords, but he never saw the appeal. Hell offered him opportunity in abundance.

“That blasted mental finagling may cost your wits!”

For once she didn’t bite back. Shame, he thought, now having to settle for the misshapen rambling of an old demon. On the next corner stood a small creature with signs hanging off his front and back. Alastor noticed the lettering as Greek. Miss Miller seemed to not have noticed at all, eyes glued to the pavement.

Despite the happenstance being nothing notable, something tickled in the back of his mind. Earlier in the week he’d seen a different demon with a similar sign.

Oddities never ceased. Regardless he shrugged it off. Hell was full of coming and going trends for lunatics.

———

Mia
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 171

Mia spat out the tooth that cracked under the force of Loona’s kick. Nerve pain radiated through her skull, making everything from top to bottom feel like being assaulted by needles.

“Get up,” came a growl. It hurt. Mia wanted to vomit but she had to get up. So she did. One leg at a time she stood back up, focusing on her breathing.

“Just give me a sec.” She popped open one of the blue vials, grateful for the relief and magical healing.

“Sorry hun, ain’t nobody gonna give ya a sec down here,” Millie called apologetically.

Gabriel had convinced them, just as they’d convinced Charlie, that she’d forfeited her angelic power to be in Hell. And given how much Vassago paid Blitz, they weren’t interested in questioning that story.

Instead of looking at Millie, her eyes darted up to the warehouse rafters. She knew Alastor was up there in the shadows and she could nearly make out smudges of redness that seemed trained on her. His presence made her want to hit harder. Fight longer. Rage.

She shattered the blue glass to the concrete and squared across from Loona. Without warning the Hellhound snapped to action.

Claws grappled into her upper arms.

Mia lacked their speed. Their ability to heal. Their power. And she really hoped what she knew about dogs applied in Hell.

Loona pulled her up and before being flung across the room, Mia's measly fangs bit down onto the soft black nose. A howl ripped and echoed.

Fleshy legs sprung, trapping the hound’s arms in the locks of her knees. Arms twisted around the furry neck, pulling tight.

Mia’s back met a steal beam with a sick crack, but her grip tightened, a feral scream of pain sounding right in Loona’s ear. The hound flinched and shook, trying to remove the faux demon.

CRACK

Scream.

Howl.

CRACK

Finally Loona dropped, hacking and sputtering, paw tapping out on Mia’s arm. She let go, falling to the floor with what was absolutely a shattered rib cage.

“You good?” The fierce Hellhound was already standing, stretching her limbs and breathing as if the onslaught hadn’t happened at all. Mia was proud, but also hated just how difficult that singular, short lived victory was. If this were true hand to hand combat, she’d be dead. Doubly dead. Shredded to bits probably. The cold concrete felt good on her cheek at least, but she couldn’t get up quite yet.

“Yeah, just gotta let the juice work.” Thankfully the potion was still going, but it would wear off soon, potentially leaving her heavily bruised. Better than being unable to breathe though.

“Where’d you get that stuff hun?” Millie knelt down beside her, small red claws gently petting through her hair. That demoness was phenomenally loving and kind.

Mia spared a glance to the rafters, unable to locate the vague redness. Before she could answer, familiar static pricked all of them, leaving Millie to take up a defensive position and Loona growling.

“What a lovely sight! Two delightful demonesses and a well behaved mutt!”

Never would she have imagined Alastor coming down to make himself known. Always looking for attention though, she ought have known better.

Loona snarled, siding up next to them. Mia, painstakingly got to her feet, groaning and cursing the entire way.

“Why’s the Radio Demon ‘ere?” Millie whispered, drawing out an axe.

“Fair darling imp! I’m here as a concerned employer on Miss Miller’s behalf! That was quite a spectacle! What fantastic entertainment! Fierce, raw, bloody.” Her throat felt painfully dry as his eyes dragged over the blood, her own blood, coating her clothes. Anytime she practiced, it was always her getting injured.

“I’m gonna head out,” she said, giving both Millie and Loona a quick hug.

“You’ll be alright with ‘at one?” The imp asked, not convinced.

Mia nodded, forcing a confident smile. Technically she would be, maybe not mentally but at least physically. “Yeah, special privileges you know?”

Hurriedly she grabbed Alastor by the elbow, all but jerking and dragging him out of the warehouse. Bastard had the nerve to smile and wave to her friends as if he’d just met royalty. “You’re an unfathomable asshole! You can’t f*cking talk to Loona like that! Consider it a new rule!”

All her energy was wiped out, collapsing halfway down the block. Her chest burned. The muscles worked and it wasn’t as bad, but bulldozing a seven foot demon did nothing to help as her lungs raged against her ribcage. Mia dropped his elbow and crouched down on the sidewalk trying to breathe.

“Do you always—” He paused. Alastor bent down in front of her, brand new vial in hand.

She eyed it with caution, careful to pick it up without touching him. She’d only dragged him out by the sleeve to avoid any more insults to her friends. How odd that he wasn’t enraged by her manhandling.

“Always what?” Her gaze trained on him while she only drank a drop of it. That would be enough.

“Do you always fight so viciously?” His smile wasn’t malicious. If anything, that mouth and those eyes looked thoroughly excited. Of course the violence and her pain made him happy. Now she could only imagine how hard it would be to get rid of him or slip out for practice without his stalking.

And yet, that didn’t really fit, did it? Mia tried to read his strange expression, piled on top of his left field kindness— perhaps that was an extreme definition.

Was he impressed?

“Lately, yes.” Mia answered cautiously, finally able to stand and breathe at the same time. Yet, her chest filled with a different sensation. Almost satisfied.

His smile widened, and he bowed gesturing to a shadowy portal, “I’m sure you need your rest, ma jolie proie. We can talk business tomorrow.”

She all but pounced through the portal, landing in front of her room alone, grateful to be away from the strangeness of today. To top it all off, another box of blue vials sat there, contributing to her Alastor induced whiplash.

———

Vox
V3 Conglomerate Media Tower
Next Cleanse: 171

“Voxxy baby, you been starin’ at them screens all week. Come on to bed and let me make you scream, yeah?”

Vox dismissed his lover, clacking away at breakneck speeds with four keyboards, several thousand servers clocking overtime all the while.

Hell had become strange over the last month. More bizarre than he was accustomed to. Demons who never once blipped in his information driven empire started streaking across his network. What was worse was that his information stopped just short after the oddness.

Other religions always held some place in Hell given that the majority population of every culture was accounted for. There was no policing of belief systems. Most abandoned their beliefs upon arrival, and for good reason. But now? Demons were congregating, spreading hush hush gospels of non existent deities.

Why?

Vox couldn’t stomach the not knowing and every day that business card plagued him. Rumors surfaced among the Hellborns. While not on the same scale, these happenstances were cropping up among the lower rings, but he had zero ability to access Hellborn infrastructure. He’d tried to crack into it for decades, but it never worked. As if those networks were near sentient and taunting him.

He loved, yet despised magic. It allowed him unprecedented control, yet limited him to such a minuscule range. Well, if one could consider nearly 30 billion souls minuscule.

Four sensual arms snaked around him, Valentino’s neck fur cradling the hard angles of his face.

“Baby,” he hissed, despite snuggling in deeper, “I can’t.”

“The f*ck you even f*ckin’ around on?”

His hands abandoned the keys, reaching up to cup the moth demon’s jawline. Ever so lovely, sharp enough to carve diamonds, cruel enough to rule their empire. “Things are happening, Baby. And I don’t know why.”

Valentino raced around to Vox’s front, kneeling down, hands caressing with kind strokes. Both of them understood how powerful information was. It could move mountains and destroy any enemy. Yet here they faced a budding fear of something unknown. For Vox not to know, it meant trouble.

He hadn’t shared the business card. He couldn’t, because all he had was speculation and circ*mstantial evidence. Yes, there were times he’d experienced the same suspicion, but nothing came of those. This one felt different. More cohesive. It cast a longer, darker shadow. He stood up, taking Valentino’s hands, giving up on his work, even if only for a few minutes.

———

Epaphus
The Hazbin Hotel Driveway
Next Cleanse: 171

Weather in Hell left him angry. For days it could snow several feet, then leave everything a disgusting flood plane, suffocated by heat that could rival his own Egypt.

Still, he preferred the jarring changes to the agonizing waiting he currently experienced. Yes, their progress was slow, but it allowed them to gather and sow the seeds of dissent unseen. And every day when he could do nothing but wait, he’d walk the streets of Pride, combing through every seedy whor* house and drug den.

Memphis.

His wondrous, kind, intelligent, elegant Memphis. A Queen among Queens with no equal. The ache in his chest never dwindled. There was no relief from the ancient heartache. It felt like a cruel joke, the idea that time could soothe the loss of her. At least she was here, even if it was Lucifer’s Hell.

Zeus guaranteed a glorious reunion with his wondrous wife and their darling daughter. He didn’t play the dutiful soldier. No, he metamorphosed into a grueling, tireless general.

Sludge and toxic water pooled around his ankles as heat seared the air. Everything was miserably muggy, fog clouding the streets only feet from him. This was why he needed the Overlord Vox. With that kind of web, finding Memphis was possible.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. Epaphus had to swallow his anger every time his father called, “Sir.”

“My son! Tell me we’re on schedule.”

“That we are, Sir. Several of the mortal overlords have sided with us. Our operations in the lower rings are proceeding as expected.”

“Nyx’s vile creations would always pose a problem, but some of the Fallen have always disdained at Lucifer’s monarchy. Hold steady. Your success is non-negotiable, do not fail me on their Princess.”

Princess Charlotte. Antti’s reports as of late were progressive, yes, but the young demoness seemed naturally impenetrable short of her bleeding heart. Even now he was still concocting their endgame conquest. She wouldn’t be an easy battle if they went without plans upon plans.

But everyone messed up eventually and he knew how to play the long game.

“Understood … And your ventures?” Rarely did he prompt Zeus, but he was curious. Their last conversation hinted at machinations larger than imagination.

“Why I am elated that you asked, my glory bestowed child! Hera was returned to us and is held in Tartarus. That wicked bitch, ever the tricky viper.”

Epaphus didn’t hate their Olympian Queen as much as he despised his father, but his father’s wife was never to be trifled with. Or cheated on. His own mother had experienced a nastier spat between Zeus and Hera.

“We’ve found favor among a rather famous being. Soon you’ll be able to meet with them and victory will all but rest in our palms,” the fake god gushed.

What scheme was Zeus working towards now? While there were always machinations in the background, to have some unnamed bigshot waltzing into his plan, that felt problematic. Just another thread to keep track of. Just another detraction from his search.

It seemed he would need to motivate the overlord Vox sooner than later.

———

Mia
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 170

Three knocks on his office door and a flick of the wrist later, Mia walked in, ready for business. Today felt calm. Despite his generic regularly-scheduled antagonism, she would maintain her cool, reign him in, and succeed.

Succeed was the main goal, everything else would just be really nice.

She also brought up the lunch she’d just finished serving to everyone else, and noting his lack of attendance, decided that maybe food would help. Alastor always seemed to be in love with food, whether it was alive or dead.

He snapped, replacing the lounging furniture by the windows with a quaint table and two chairs. He stood directly behind her, eyeing the covered plates. “You must notice how hard I work to keep the world turning! How kind of you to care for my wellbeing! What have you brought for us, my dear?”

She’d taken the time to go through her old cookbook, trying to find recipes she could copy or scale up to feed everyone. This happened to be a simple stew. The original called for rabbit but she’d forgone that for the sake of time. Alastor was all, but inhaling it, grinning and moving to sit down.

Mia sat, glad that his attention was whole heartedly on the meal and not on her. Strange, how normal he could seem when it came to his simple pleasures like food or jokes or music. Maybe deep down all the mortal demons were still human. Maybe even Alastor was redeemable?

No. One look at those gnashing fangs and crimson claws reminded her all too well that even if he could be redeemed after millennia of penance, he would probably do something even worse to prove a point.

“Do you have the contract?”

Alastor rolled his eyes, a wisp of shadow materializing the papers. In silence they ate and she read the document. There were no tricks. Zero shenanigans. At the bottom was a line for her to sign, initiating her ownership.

“Could I borrow a pen?” An elegant black fountain pen shadowed into her hand. And just like that the contract flashed green, demonic power cementing her ownership of Arackniss’s soul. Despite the manic implications of the magic, she didn’t feel anything different. Given she had no powers of her own, she wondered how the contract could even be enforced? Was it solely through Alastor’s power?

Mia hated how blatantly defiant magic was in the face of science and logic. As if it were some cosmic, petulant child with a golden spoon.

“Don’t frown so harshly! Smile! You’re never fully-”

“Dressed without one, right. Thanks Dapper Dan,” she huffed, setting down the contract. “You do realize Annie came out after you died, right?”

An uncaring shrug followed her question. Still, his facade was betrayed by a stray twitching eye. Apparently being called out on his inconsistencies was irksome. “But it is such a delightful little tune!”

“You’ve never watched the movie have you?” Mia deadpanned, unimpressed with his ability to cherry pick the world around him.

“Not a day, darling!”

Mia rolled her eyes, going back to the food.

“Speaking of mutts, what’s happened to the one you keep, hmm?” His hands folded, chin resting on them. And while he sat well away from her, that sickeningly sweet smile leaned forward and cold sweat started beading on her neck.

Mia leaned back as far as she could in the chair, taking a drink to avoid his gaze. “Is that really what you want to know? Out of anything you could ask, you’re worried about my brother?”

One sharp shoulder shrugged. “Perhaps I am being small minded … as an only child I find sibling squabbles quite fascinating! But indeed, there a more pressing issues! So what is hunting ma jolie proie? I utterly despise sharing.”

His demeanor turned intense, smooth voice dropping an octave, followed by that soft twinge of accent. By sheer force of will he had her pinned to the chair, squirming, unsure about anything.

Forget claws, teeth, and uncanny magic. Alastor’s greatest weapon was the one he didn’t know about. Or maybe he did know.

On one hand, his constant nagging and stalking built a welcome callous to her fear response. On the other it left room for a far more dangerous reaction. Mia knew she’d soon miss the days where he terrified her 100%. Now it was close to 60% and dwindling by the day.

And all the while, the threads of her secrets started dissolving, desperate to tell someone. Every strange emotion mixed and churned together.

f*ck it!

Sure it was Alastor, but at least someone was listening to her for once.

Mia’s claws gripped into the table edge, eyes locked onto his. “Hell isn’t just Hell. Like Earth is one of several planets, Hell is a domain in the greater Eldritch Realm. And there are demons that existed long before Hell did. The Ars Goetia is made of Eldritch demons who allied to Lucifer and fallen angels alike. So technically that would make you the only mortal Goetia if things go your way.”

She paused, just to see if he was following, but also to catch her breath. The information coiled in her gut, ready to spew. Alastor looked oddly neutral and open, nodding for her to continue. Mia nodded with him.

“And there’s an ancient faction of Eldritch demons, the name sakes of Greek mythology. Pagans. They’re children to another god. I’ve heard people call them Chaos, Asherah, whatever. So here I am with literal f*cking Zeus, trying to— well f*ck, I don’t know! We suspect they’re hunting angels. And some how they found us down here.”

Every word tumbled and shoved out of her mouth, faster than the one before.

“Gabriel was supposed to return to Heaven for his own safety. I f*cked that up for him. I’m the reason he has to suffer. Hell is toxic for angels actually. It hurts to just be down here! Let him stay pissed! As long as he stays away. I— a month before I got here, a demon broke into my apartment and butchered my best friend.”

That would haunt her forever. Mia felt like she’d murdered Gemma herself.

“I guess they want to eat us? Bleed us dry? Jokes on them! I’m only human. That’s it! I’d just be reborn and do it all over again! You know, I can’t remember being their wonderful Michael. The human memories are barely there! It’s all gaps and vague situations that I can’t sort. But I die. I die early. And harshly. f*cking Lucifer and Gabriel. Liars. They’re assholes and liars and they don’t tell me one f*cking goddamn thing! I can’t help them. I can’t help Charlie. I can’t keep myself safe. I’m worthless— a liability.”

Since when did she cry this much?

Large tears soaked her hands, pouring no matter how hard she rubbed at her eyes. Mia couldn’t be bothered with saving face anymore. Reality crushed her like the weak, pathetic human she was. Everything she tried was laughable. Useless.

She shot up, bolting for the door, not wanting to become an emotionally riddled mess all over again. He’d enjoy it too much. What was it? The third time? Fourth?

But no. Halfway she collided with Alastor’s chest.

“I’m leaving,” she hissed. If he reveled in her misery, she didn’t want to see it.

The lighting around her feet changed, fading into soft, dim warmth. Alastor swept her up like a child, careful to avoid her wings even. She’d lost the wits to ask what he was doing. Why she was situated between his legs all over again.

Alastor slipped off her glamour ring, placing it on the nightstand. With wings no longer an issue, he gathered her into his arms tightly, tucking her head under his chin.

Humming that same lullaby destroyed the last bit of her resolve. Mia sobbed into his lapels, no longer concerned with who was good or bad in this strange world. Maybe she was the worst.

Lucifer needed to protect Charlie first and foremost. Gabriel had sacrificed so much for her. Alastor was unabashedly himself no matter what.

She was the fraud. An imposter in her own skin.

———

Alastor
His Home
Next Cleanse: 170

Alastor sat conflicted as she grieved, subject to his own mental torture. Would his mother be proud as he tried to right the wrongs he’d done to this woman? Watching her scrap with the Hellborns …

Long ago he'd watched his father thrash his mother into their kitchen wall, much like the Hellhound had. As a small child he could only hide and sob as his mother bled, falling in and out of consciousness for the next week. It was then he learned what fear was. Alastor wished his mother could have fought back with Miss Miller’s ferocity. Sadly she had to survive in a world that wasn’t made for them.

His mother would have liked this bearcat, surely.

Miss Miller certainly didn’t disappoint in her ramblings. The world simultaneously made more and less sense. Lucifer brought two Heavenly siblings to Hell to avoid being poached by otherworldly beings. Alastor couldn’t imagine how little he knew now. All mortal souls took God and Lucifer and angels as the end all, be all answer.

How far did existence go?

But for now, all he could do was console her. He reveled in torturing souls! Tormenting and terrorizing the denizens of Hell for kicks came naturally. Yet there was no plane of existence where he could withstand the shame of being like his father. Every day it gnawed at him. Every time he tried to sleep, the night terrors assaulted and mutilated the sad, miserable child he used to be.

So here they shared their grief. Their sorrows. Their guilt.

Her sobs dwindled to nothing. Alastor pulled a blanket up around them, begrudgingly enjoying the weight and warmth on his chest.

Between the food she brought and humming that old sad work song, he imagined the insufferable humidity, the smell of saltwater and honeysuckle, the sound of summer cicadas. He tightened his hold on her and found himself drifting away too. For a small moment, for the first time in decades, he felt something akin to human.

Chapter 31: Negotiation

Chapter Text

Alastor
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 168

Had she not heard him?

Alastor loomed as she ripped furiously at weeds notorious for snapping at fingers.

“Miss Miller, perha-”

“I heard you!”

Claws pushed back her hair as she sucked in a long breath. “I heard you Alastor. There’s been a development …”

Finally! As if he hadn’t been pestering her for the better part of … well how long had he been out here watching her toil hatefully? At first he’d just assumed his presence irked her. That was well and good by him but the silent treatment started to grow burdensome and boring.

Her expression twisted in a new, novel kind of strange, and below it, she held out an elaborate, gilded magenta envelope. A vile notion twisted in his gut as he recognized this particular color scheme.

“Short of coming face to face with that hairballed cigarette junkie, I’d say you’re tapping your way through each step!”

No reaction. She stood there wringing her hands. In his experience, self doubt was the number one instigator of a failure! If her near suicidal plan failed it would be nothing but death for them both. Alastor refused to forfeit his success! His golden ticket straight to the top!

“Now let’s stop all this milling about!” A clawed hand took her wrist, situating her right under his arm. The world around them twisted from the garden to the hotel’s rooftop before she could protest. Given his practical joke with the clocktower, Alastor was mindful enough to situate them at a tea table, quite a ways from the edge.

It was laughably obvious that the memory danced through that head of hers given how she scowled, hands clenched to the chair’s underside.

As if to punctuate his point, he procured them two mugs and a plate of beignets. Her affinity for coffee bought him civil passage once more.

“You made these?”

“But of course! I’ll have you know I spend quite a bit of my time perfecting wonderful delicacies!”

Halfway through chewing she paused, eyeing the treats warily. “Oh come now! I assure you I would never waste such delights on the unappreciable! Though I do recall a particular darling drinking down several cups of a particular private brew of mine, no?”

“Who am I to waste perfectly good coffee? Plus, you could have been lying for all I know.”

His eyes sharpened on her indignant, nearly mortified face, drinking up every reaction.

“An excommunicated angel admitting to delighting in the blood of demons. How delicious.”

Miss Miller keened an angry noise, tossing a beignet right between his horns. If it weren’t for the waste of perfectly good food, he’d have half a mind to be impressed. “What did you drag me up here to talk about? I don’t need your assholery.”

“On top of all your extracurriculars, you still manage to keep up with this shamble of a charity! It’s only proper that one of us maintain concern for your wellbeing! We’d do well to rehearse just how you intend on dealing with Valentino. He has a particularly nasty reputation, even by my standards. Your failure would be ... unfortunate.”

It was a gross understatement. He needed her to make good on this farce and she had no easy task. Regardless of their sparring she sniffed at the coffee, then determined it acceptable enough to drink.

“Have you ever dealt with Valentino before?”

“Not in a direct manner. I’ve met that derelict team on several occasions, seeing how our great and terrible king oversees to Pride personally.”

Alastor took a drink, watching her turn the cup, clacking her pitiful excuse for claws against it while thinking non stop.

“I’d bet Luci has something ridiculous planned. It’s all just so contrived don’t you think?”

Nail on the head. Alastor would bet every stake he had on Lucifer pulling the strings of a game they weren’t privy to. Not that he’d share that suspicion. This girl, regardless of origin or status, was a pawn. The sooner he could untangle from her and reign in Pride the better.

Alastor took the time to spell out what he knew of that wretched gaggle of volatile, vitriolic vermin. How Valentino, while far from the most intelligent compared to that obnoxious TV brained fool, was certainly the cruelest and a creative sort. He made a point to leave out the colorful rumors that circulated concerning how Valentino dealt with his enemies.

Of course they shared a similar interest, but the methods used by the moth demon left him near gagging.

Her mouth opened and closed, processing the information. It never went anywhere and she slumped back, coffee in hand. Was she nervous? Scared? Surely if she’d lost her overarching fear of him, a pity certainly, there was nothing to fear from that rag tag team?

But the longer she sat there, twisting and fidgeting, the more uncomfortable he grew. She irritated him to no end!

“I’m freaked out," she conceded. "What if this meeting goes wrong? What if I f*ck up and land Angel in a worse situation? What if Valentino finds out I’m human? What if he takes all this out on Charlie? What if Lucifer or Gabriel find out what I’ve been doing? And with you no less?!”

The rant, gassed up and firing on all cylinders, left her near hyperventilating. In any other situation, for any other being, he’d cut off their head. Anything to cease that mindless prattling. Unfortunately those tactics were off limits where Miss Miller was concerned.

She didn’t seem to notice him slipping around to her side. Nor when he slipped onto one knee and plucked her hand from its vice grip on the table.

At last, respite!

He grinned upwards as her stalled face beamed down at him, confusion starting to take hold. “Now Miss Miller, I’m sure you’re keen to the fact that I am Hell’s foremost negotiator. I’ve talked some of this squalid land’s greatest beings into rubble without lifting a finger! I assure you, our victory is nothing but a matter of time. What gentleman would I be to let you parade into that den, unprepared and unprotected?”

“You are not going with me!” The fire he’d come to associate with her roared to life. Instead of pulling from him, she leaned in, eyes narrowed and determined. Finally, something he could work with! All that pity had him truly doubtful, but this? Confidence and willpower was all it took to build empires. Well, that and a few dead bodies.

“Why, simple bearcat,” he coo’d, twisting and melting away.

“Alastor?” She called, hopping to her feet, turning in place, looking for him.

Attached to her own shadow he stretched out before her.

“Get out of my shadow!”

His shaded form snaked and curled around her body. Alastor felt each bristle and tremor. It was an old trick, one he didn’t utilize quite so often anymore given its clandestine nature. With magic, when attached to one’s shadow, he could make anyone feel like they were going insane, speaking directly into their ear, as if in their head.

‘Ma jolie proie, no one will know. We’re but two peas in a pod, leading these heinous villains to their demise. All you have to do is listen.’

———

Husker
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 167

Husk didn’t like Hell. Broken apathetic f*cks like himself never did.

Opportunists like Alastor loved it.

Do gooders like Vaggie despised it.

For the survivors though, it didn’t matter what they felt about Hell. They carved out new lives for themselves regardless. A lot of souls failed miserably trying to make the best of Hell. Others flourished like co*ckroaches after a nuclear bomb. It didn’t mean they were happier than anyone else but the simple fact of surviving was an accomplishment.

Husk lost so much in life that he never had anything to lose in death. He didn’t like Hell, but funnily enough, it was easy to be dead in Hell.

Emotional and corporeal numbness made those loud, illuminating co*ckroaches blinding yet impossible to not look at.

He’d heard the name Angel Dust nearly every week since the 80s, when the retired-mobster-turned-sex-worker-turned-p*rn-idol became famous. Despite that, he’d never learned anything about the spider demon until indentured servitude was thrust upon him once more. As much as Husk wanted Alastor to leave him to his misery and drinking, the hotel was one of the better gigs. Since Princess’s project was an utter failure, he never actually did anything other than drink, read, play cards, or watch.

Every day he watched that hot pink, flirtatious, nuisance of a spider come and go.

And for a while it was ‘How ya doin’ handsome?’ or ‘What’s shakin’ puss* cat?’.

Then it evolved. ‘I’ll be back for ya Husky’ and ‘I only wear this dress for you handsome’ and irksome, yet euphoric assaults behind his ears.

Next came the card games and lame jokes. They started drinking together and sharing stories. Well, Angel told a lot of stories and he listened, captivated. Every day Husk felt like he was watching one of his novels come to life. Where the main character, the survivor, the one who should have given up just like all the rest, never did. Angel came in worse off some days, but in spite of that misery, he was living.

To say that Angel Dust burned like a flame was an understatement. No. Husk knew exactly what he was.

A diamond: forged by unparalleled pressures and incinerating heat.

Anything that was thrown at Angel didn’t scratch him and if anything, that damn slu*t took any kind of light and used it to make himself look magnificent.

It felt like withdrawal, expecting to see that flouncing maniac but then never getting the sensation. To replace it, he just drank more. Probably double or triple than he was used to. Being Al’s lackey meant Vaggie or Princess couldn’t give him the old boot, but that didn’t shut them up either.

Decades went by faster and faster in Hell, so how had the past two months felt like a gnashing limbo despite his near drunken stupor?

The rain soaked his fur coat as he grunted, barely sober enough to roll over and throw up. Thunder and millions of wailing souls drowned out the sound of his own retching.

Husk didn’t like Hell and he didn’t know how to love, not really, but he knew he liked seeing Angel. He liked every infuriating thing about him. He liked the idea of being able to love him one day.

———

Mia
Dicks ’n titt*es Strip Club
Next Cleanse: 162

If the name wasn’t a dead give away, the massive neon sign of an org*sming penis between two fluorescent boobs was. No matter how cringe it was, this was where they’d decided to meet. Where she’d do her absolute damnedest to get Angel’s contract and thrown Valentino to the Ars Goetia.

Every moment for the past five days was spent with Alastor, getting grilled. Playing mind games. Learning how to actually negotiate and keep her cool. Yes, he was currently clinging against her like second skin in the shadows, poised to feed her every word.

It all had to look seamless, as if she truly were the great Amy, President of the Ars Goetia, leader of 36 legions. Between Millie and Moxxie glamoured to look like Goetic servants, all of Vassago’s magic and resources, Stolas and Blitz waiting in Greed, and Alastor’s knack for negotiation, Mia was the weak link. The most likely to fail. The most likely to pay the consequence if this all went tit* up.

Too late to back out though. She was led by Valentino’s goons to a private booth high above the stage. There was only one way in or out and she didn’t mean the door.

Millie and Moxxie made a sweep of the balcony, doing their due diligence.

In this new demonic glamour, she was smoke and feathers and embers. A Hellish stain glass looking bird demon, as a fair bit of the Hellborn nobility were.

They didn’t wait long after the show started.

Alastor hummed in her ear, as if it were her own thought,

‘It’s show time ma jolie proie.’

———

Alastor
Dicks ’n titt*es Strip Club
Next Cleanse: 162

Valentino joined their ragtag bunch finally. Alastor couldn’t imagine keeping such esteemed guests waiting, even if this identity was an extravagant falsehood. Perhaps he should have dawned their Hellborn costume, but alas, cross-dressing did not appeal to him.

Miss Miller stayed draped against the lux arm chair, sparing the towering moth demon a glance. Languidly her hand drifted out.

Valentino took it with a disgusting purr, kissing along each of her knuckles, “How inconsiderate of you to come in here looking that sexy, putting all my girls to shame. I might have to offer you job, Princesa.”

He’d stopped clinging so thoroughly to people’s shadows due to just how disgusting and unpleasant most creatures were, but he’d forgotten the sole merit: he could feel every single minuscule reaction. And it seemed Miss Miller was having a chilling reaction to Valentino’s lament.

Alastor couldn’t make heads or tails of the prickling along her neck.

Surely it was one of outright disgust! If it was anything else …

An agitation started to gnaw at him. One at her for daring to— well what exactly? If she was afraid of Valentino, hah! A total waste. It was him she should fear. Sharing even the tiniest of her reactions irked him. He’d have to settle the issue later.

“Now Baby Girl, how can I help one of Hell’s oh so distinguished members?”

‘Ease into it. This pompous fool will crawl to you eventually.’

“I’ve merely come to pass along some information that you might take an interest in. You see, I reside under his infernal highness, our Prince of Lust, Asmodeous. And we do our best to bring glory to his name where we can.” One of the robe clad imps handed her an envelope. As if they had all the time in the world, she picked through photographs containing different scenarios with varied orange, green, and indigo skies.

Then she spread them out like cards across the table. It took no time at all for Valentino to snarl, “What the f*ck is this?”

“Allow me to tell you a bit about the lower rings. When one of you sinners devises a viable business idea, it takes no time at all for the Hellborns to start peddling all your hard work. Hijacked, rebranded, and hocked. Making hand over fist compared to what you see. Your distinctive brand of creativity is popular, has been for quite some time.”

Pink smoke that wafted across the floor started churning, soft peaks and rolling waves turning violent.

“And how don’t I know you ain’t some conniving bitch here to rip me off? This sh*t could be doctored.”

Miss Miller sighed, doing a starlet’s job at feigning just how droll that massive oaf was. “If it was doctored, as you call it, what would it matter? Why would I bother to rip off a mortal? whor*s and co*cks are a dime a dozen below Pride, with far fewer venereal diseases. I don’t peddle black market goods, I regulate them. A robinhood of sorts. Here to put your hard earned money back into your own hands.”

Valentino shoved the cat demoness and imp off his lap, scooting forward. One hand moved below his coat, two others perched above his knees.

‘He’s known to keep holy bullets in those guns.’

“Come now, I’m here as a friend.”

“Sorry Doll Face, I don’t make friends. Now why don’t you get to brass tax before I show you just what my lot is capable of, yeah? I’m a busy man.”

“Fair enough.” Was she mocking him?

If Alastor weren’t so concerned with that brash mouth putting them in an unfortunate situation, he’d be flattered. She tossed down a packet of papers. “Always time with you sinners. You can’t see the centuries for the days. Perhaps I can get a far more suitable drink while you read that over? Assuming you can read.”

Valentino growled, the pink smoke rushing up to drown them. Alastor was actually surprised when the smoke seemed to meet an invisible shell surrounding them. A delicate smugness overtook her face as Valentino’s own expression took a wary turn.

Minutes passed as tensions rose, only punctuated by the revelry below and the turning of pages.

“So you’re looking to become a business partner?”

“Of course. We can expand your empire into the lower rings, even get you access. The most talented of mortal sinners are offered exceptions when having business with the Ars Goetia. Alexander the Great, Ghengis Khan, George Washington. Our Wrathful Lord Satan employs the military aficionados. That’s why you so rarely hear of the greats in Hell. They’re actually busy.”

Yet another cut to that vagabond’s ego. He’d be delighted if he wasn’t so curious about his new tidbit. Was that true? Was this the kind of situation he was in with Lucifer? She’d not only gone off script, but was stating things so matter of factly that he nearly believed them.

“Well ain’t that just peachy.”

“It would be if you’ll inspect the projected figures towards the last page.” So he did and his back straightened up a significant amount. “I also wouldn’t mind introducing you to the nuisances who’ve taken a shining to your work.”

“How about you set up a little meeting with ‘em and then we can talk business after, yeah?”

She snapped, a whirling vortex giving way to peered out into a hotel room, dark, with a figure snoozing on the couch. The sky was a deep, emerald beyond the curtains. “Allow me to introduce you to the blackmarket trader currently ripping you off. And making a mockery of you amongst Pride’s Hellborns.”

There was a cooing noise, like a snore, while feathers protruded at odd angles from the blanket. Fancy clothes were strewn about, along with some much smaller, dirtier ones. It was then a second party started talking in their sleep, the blanket slipping to reveal an imp’s horn.

“This could be some illusion.”

She sauntered over, placing herself all too close to Valentino. Fingers walked up his chest, then along his jaw just until she plucked the cigarette out of his mouth, dropping it through the portal to the floor. Then it spun shut. “Not an illusion. Only a first class ticket to redefining your empire, having fun with those who would sully your name, and making me a fabulously wealthy demon.”

Valentino’s mouth split into the smile that had won over and tortured thousands upon thousands of souls. “Sugar, you are somethin’ ain’t ya?”

One hand slipped onto her waist, the second fingering a decorative strap across her chest, the third and fourth lighting another cigarette. “So that contract of yours, you’re looking for some exclusive fun? Tell Valentino what you need so we can start having fun.”

Despite not having a corporeal form at the moment, Alastor’s what-would-have-been-stomach twisted, jaw clenching to the point it would have ached. Watching those disgusting claws toy with something that belong to him?! And then suddenly it felt like a frozen brick was lodged in his throat, ceasing the other fledgling sensations.

She slipped off of the couch, stepping over to the balcony. “I think we’re well suited to make a trade of good faith? Your immediate access to a heathen sullying your name, with the guarantee that I will cover your tracks, for a very special type of toy.”

Valentino got up to corner her against the railing, bending down, one hand coming up for her hair. Alastor nearly sliced it off. The utter disgusting perversion! And yet he didn’t knowing their precarious situation.

“You want a piece of Daddy?”

“My tastes are more singular. Weaker. More liable to tears, no matter how alluring those dark, domineering, devious types are.”

Was she really talking about that wretched whor* mongering insect?

“I want Angel Dust.”

A sneer ripped across the moth’s face as a hand shot up to her jaw.

‘Absolutely not.’

Alastor twisted her into the shadows, doing his very well damnedest to make it look like smoke, back to where she’d been sitting originally.

‘Do not get co*cky you foolish girl! I’ve half a mind to remove you from this suicide mission!’ He felt something like a nod, acknowledging him in the very least. Mindless brat! Surely Valentino was looking to tear out her throat! Or strangle her silly little self lifeless! And then she’d be dead! And then what would he do for fun?

“No f*cking way. Pick another slu*t, but you ain’t gettin’ my top whor*.”

“Top whor* for now.”

“You tryin’ to make threats Bird tit*?”

“Oh please. I don’t think you understand the liability of an aged out worker. With our returns by accessing the rest of Hell for five years vs what you could make off Angel Dust alone in fifty, you won’t even remember his name. And how long until that broken crack whor* becomes just another sinner forgotten to time. Surely you’re better than that?”

She heaved another sigh, leveling a gaze at him like one would a child.

“And you’ll have an image problem. Throughout history it only ever took one weak link to ruin the chain of command. Angel Dust has made quite a stir and it reflects poorly on you. I’ve heard Bethesda and Frederick make quite the joke about it. Your star whor* running off for redemption. That either implies you don’t take well enough care of your assets or that it should have been cycled out ages ago. Regardless, it is a bad look. One that may not cost you now, but will when fresh, powerful demons join Hell. Just as they always do.”

Valentino paced, waving his gun around thinking. “If you get Angel Dust, I want your two years profits up front.”

She clacked away at that infernal brick, “Done, check your accounts. Consider it an act of good will, along side a few Hellborn heads.”

“I want the head of that bastard before you get Angel Dust.”

“That all?”

“Not quite,” he murmured, coming up to his full height in front of her. “I want access for my associate to the Hellborn networks.”

“After the first five years. Hellborn networks are far trickier than the markets.”

“One year.”

“Two.”

He grinned.

Miss Miller rose to her feet, portal whirling to life. A long sharp smile cut across her face, hand stretching out with a black and ember glow. “So it’s a deal then?”

Alastor approved, grinning ear to ear if he could. Imitation was the sincerest form of flattery after all.

Valentino’s hand grabbed hers, pink smoke mingling with the embers. Then she escorted him through the portal where the room suddenly seemed quite a bit darker. Alastor detached from her shadow, taking his cue to leave, knowing well and good what awaited a mortal sinner on the other side of the portal. One day he’d be immune to such fail safes, but that wasn’t today.

———

Mia
Greed - Vassago’s Penthouse
Next Cleanse: 162

They stood in what she knew to be Vas’s living room, Stolas and Blitz waiting. It took less than half a second for guns shots to start blazing into the couch from Valentino’s pistols. He cackled, blowing the smoke off of one as Mia went for the light switch.

“Aye buddy! Catch!” A head flew through the room at Valentino, who caught it, officially sealing their demonic deal. He now held the head of the Hellborn demon who was the premier blackmarket trader for all things p*rnographic from Pride. It just so happened that he wasn’t a noble born demon but instead a disgusting child predator to boot by the nickname Noble.

Stolas stepped out in full regalia, eyes glowing red, a darkness instantaneously overtaking the pimp moth, dragging his wailing form through a gruesome smelling portal.

“No Miranda rights in Hell I guess?” Mia asked, finally taking off the overbearing necklace that Vas and Stolas put together for her. She laid it into the prince’s hand, noting Blitz taking M&M straight to what sounded like ‘a pool big enough for a rodeo’.

“Of course not, My Lady,” Stolas laughed, looking much more jovial than his demonic powers lead on.

On a couple of occasions she tried to get him to call her Mia instead of Your Grace, Your Holiness, etc. But it all failed and she’d have to live with it. There wasn’t anything upsetting about it, yet … it felt false.

Stolas extended his arm to her, “Would you like to take a tour of this realm while we’re here?”

Did she have the energy for it? Mia patted his arm downward, grinning apologetically. “Any other day, I would love to, but I’m beat and definitely hungry. Plus, I don’t want you to have any trouble with Luci if he were to be against it. Care to just drop me off into the hotel? Preferably the kitchen?”

With a billow of his cape and broad smile, Stolas bowed, gesturing her through a portal.

“Thank you Your Highness,” she curtseyed, stepping back into the witching hour silence of the hotel.

There it was in her hands, a magical contract stating her as the soul owner of Anthony Mariano Roselli.

Reading Angel’s full name made her stomach knot. She could imagine some kid running around with mobsters, trying to fit in. Trying to live up to a demanding father and brother. Mia really couldn’t quite imagine how awful everything else was, given what she knew of Angel’s life. How desperate must he have felt to sign away his soul?

And some how, thinking about that made her wonder— how desperate must she have been to sell her own soul? Maybe not to a buyer, but to knowingly obliterate it and then be sure that Gabriel said she’d make the same decision again.

She clutched the paper to her chest, the overwhelming emotions falling over her one by one.

“Knock, knock! Anyone home?” Came that transatlantic tone, Alastor’s knuckle coming down on her head. She peeked up to find him bent over right into her face, wide eyed and smiling.

“Just got home, actually …”

Home. It felt right.

“Good! Because oh my dear do I have a bone to pick with you!”

Mia grimaced as his finger waggled in her face. He wasn’t wrong. She’d gotten all too brave in their little show and Alastor had to intervene beyond their agreement of him sticking to her shadow. It would be hard to explain to I.M.P or Stolas why he’d been apart of it. So she sighed and nodded, hanging her head.

“I know, I’m sorry. Just please don’t use one of my bones.”

Much like Valentino’s had, Alastor’s hand drew around her waist, the other wrapping under her chin. Mia looked up despite the growing uncertainty in her gut. She almost regretted meeting his gaze. Alastor was stoic and she didn’t know how to take that. His mouth was neutral, eyes narrowed on her.

Then he stepped forward. Alastor pressed into her chest and she very much would have pitched backwards if it weren’t for the fingers digging at her waist. As he guided her backwards, Mia noted how his eyes started to glow, lip slowly pulling into a barely there snarl.

With each step she could see him breathing. Well, not exactly breathing. Inhaling, a monster trying to catch her scent.

“Hah!” She gasped, shocked as her wings met the wall. Her mind went blank, leaving frantic, warm, knotting sensations to well up in various places. Alastor leaned down, hand slipping from its tight grip on her jaw, claws scraping down her neck like a slow death.

“No worries, darling, merely removing an unsightly spec.”

A yelp squeaked out of her throat, triggered from how that claw oh so barely nicked her skin. She swallowed with a shallow nod, “O- okay.”

If he were anyone else, maybe twice as docile and half as handsome, she’d be stupid enough to follow through with the urge to hitch her leg over those slim hips. Mia shoved the thought away, going for an entirely different move.

Her arms twisted around Alastor’s chest, “Thank you.”

She winced as he prickled under her hug, but she stayed firm. The clawed hand patting atop her head gave her enough confidence to look up. Mia almost giggled, but pulled back hard on her response, just smiling wide and mirthful.

Alastor’s cheeks turned the color of his hair, eyes wide and looking at the wall like it was fresh steak.

Her stomach interrupted in the nick of time it seemed. Alastor whipped her around and Miles forcibly saddled her into one of the chairs. “Now, ma jolie proie! It will do you no good to go hungry trying to save these hopeless vagabonds! For a job well done might I suggest a muffuletta! An Italian fellow brought them to town when I was a boy and the city went stark raving wild!”

She stood up despite Miles’ protest, going for her apron. “It sounds great. If you’ll teach me how to make it that is.”

Chapter 32: Choosing

Chapter Text

Angel
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 148

f*cking damnit was he in some hot sh*t.

So many decades of success, but no!

Worthless!

Two weeks was all it took for his world to turn upside down.

There wasn’t any work coming in. No clients to take. No drugs to push. No shows, no outings, no zip, no nada! Without Fat Nugget or Cherri, this luxurious, gorgeous apartment near p*rn Studios felt like a pink shag prison.

Hell had caught on pretty fast that something was wrong.

A couple oddities convinced Angel that something was seriously f*cking wrong. Hell’s rumor mill kept the speculation alive because every time even a smidge of it got on the news or the web, it died. Instantly. Vox must’ve been killing everything and that was the first sign. The second was how M-I-A Velvette was. For all society cared, Velvette was Valentino’s adoptive daughter, seen with him constantly in social media posts. Her posts went up daily, if not hourly.

Angel texted every single whor*, producer, PA, and groupie he knew. Each responded with the same bullsh*t: no one knew where Valentino was. p*rn Studios ran smoothly for the most part, but Angel belonged to Valentino exclusively.

For years he’d bypassed any and every underling, always having 24/7 direct access to the overlord. Flaunting his glaringly obvious privilege. All them jealous slu*ts were giving him the cold shoulder. Ain’t his fault they were no talent wannabes! But even those no talent phonies were company. Company that didn’t need f*cked and sucked every fifteen minutes.

The real problem wasn’t being alone.

Oh no.

It was when he went out. Demons flocked to him, a starlet suddenly without protection. Without the impending doom that came with f*cking with Valentino’s property. Two days ago the Hellhound doorman lost an arm to one of his more adamant stalkers.

Yesterday a good 15 demons surrounded him. Powerful ones whose boss had a bone to pick. He barely had enough arms to handle that shoot out alone. f*ck faces all over were coming out of the woodwork. A couple of goons were Hellborn, others were sinners, all their beady eyes set on breaking off any part of the V3 empire.

A bald spot in the carpet stretched from the window to the door to the balcony. He’d wore it out pacing and pacing. Waiting.

Not a single shred of him worried about Valentino, and that relieved him … but Angel wasn’t anything without his daddy? Was he?

A fist came down onto the coffee table as he wailed.

“Never anything without a daddy am I?”

Not without Heronin. Not without Valentino.

Pinging echoed through the eerily silent apartment. Anxiety and guilt cropped up at seeing Cherri’s name. She’d never stopped texting him and bless her heart if there were any left for sinners.

‘Heard Valentino’s gone missing. Need to know you’re ok.’

Angel’s throat tightened and burned. Tears welling up in all eight of his eyes. The fear of being alone won out over his sense of guilt.

‘I’m alright. Slow work day.’

He put the phone down, pacing once more, but the balling in his gut never settled. It wound up so tightly he couldn’t near bear it. Angel grabbed the phone again.

‘How’s Nugget?’

Dots flashed on the screen for a good four minutes. Then they stopped for seven. And finally they started again.

‘I took him to that hotel and left him with the cyclops chick and the cat for his own good. But Ange, he needs you. You’re his papa.’

That’s when he started sobbing so hard he couldn’t stand. And even though he couldn’t stand, Angel started dumping as much sh*t as he could into a suitcase. Because even without his father or his daddy, he was a papa and he was going to be a f*cking better one to Fat Nugget from now to forever.

———

Alastor
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 148

“Ok! I’ve got margaritas, mimosas, cupcakes, pizza, and a whole vat of hot chocolate! There’s also a ton of other snacks.”

The room of approximately 23 demons cheered at Miss Miller’s menagerie of goods. Charlotte had come to the conclusion that watching picture shows and musicals for several hours in pajamas would create a wholesome spark amongst the patrons. Alastor was quite certain the raffle held at the end was the primary incentive to patron involvement.

Truly, he could care less about these shenanigans but he’d agreed to come as a deterrent towards tomfoolery. So there he was, dressed for the occasion of course, in a tasteful red robe and red stripped sleep clothes. He’d taken the extra step to bring a smoking pipe, proper footwear, and night cap. No one could accuse him of being a sullen Sally! Even a party he didn’t wish to attend.

Miss Miller stopped at his lonesome table, toting armfuls of sugary commodities. She grinned before subjecting him to hushed snickering, “I like the other one better. This makes you look like Hugh Hefner and a vampire started a clothing line.”

Before he could retort, Charlotte bounced up in a pink full body rabbit get up that reminded him of bastardized long Johns.

“I can help!” She started unloading her aunt’s arms while looking him over. “Oh Al! You look as dapper as always! Thank you so much for participating!”

He just gave her the bow of his head as she scurried away to set out her looted treats. The merriment so much didn’t bother him, but the food selection was … lacking. “Must everything you make be mucked with sug—”

Miss Miller’s hand shot out at him, only a breath’s width away form his nose. She shook her head. He snarled as she took that same finger to her lips, turning back for the kitchen. He’d slept so poorly the last several months that he didn’t have the patience to deal with this sort of belligerence.

Then she came back with a tray loaded with two sizable boxes, a thermos, a cup, and a glass of some red drink. His brow stitched together. Was that a celery stalk sticking from the glass?

She sat them out with a particularly smug look, not opening the boxes. “Since Charlie told me you were sooooo looking forward to working security tonight, I figured you should be rewarded for your kind, altruistic, not-just-here-to-watch-someone-mess-up deeds.”

He grabbed the glass and sniffed, not taking her baited words. “And this is?”

“A Bloody Mary. You of all people should have had one by now,” she balked. And as if it were the secondary theme of the evening, she waltzed away, going back to demons far less charming than he.

He started with the thermos, and as expected, black coffee. But there was a spiced note to it. Inside the boxes were small assortments of cooked vegetables and meats, savory and tangy and spicy wafting up to his nose. There was even a thing of okra and collard greens. Between this and the other foods, just how long had she labored in the kitchen?

He popped a few pieces and his mouth went alight. Phenomenally delightful! The tastes and textures were so reminiscent and akin to his home that he’d certainly have to get her recipes. Not that he would ask, but perhaps he’d have to watch her sometime form the shadows.

The throng of gabbing demons started their first feature of the evening, a musical sort of animation.

And while the shades patrolled the hotel, he found himself … distracted. Above the sounds of soft chatter was the occasional laughter. With each bought his ears focused in on a particular one, his eyes involuntarily dragging to Miss Miller. She was sandwiched in the gaggle of women, between Nifty and Charlie. Moments like these made her entire story seem like a hoax. A sham!

How could she be what she said and be so drawn to death? Drawn to the dangers and perils of Hell seemingly at every turn!

Alastor couldn’t fathom the end game of her situation. And despite that incessant nagging at the back of his skull over said dangers, he found relief.

But why? Why did he find his chest easing when —

Alastor shot up at the shades’ behest, melting away into the lobby.

The grand doors burst open, slamming into the walls, rattling the hallway paintings. And there was Angel Dust, heaving over a near-rupturing bedazzled suitcase.

“Wheeee— Oi, santo cazzo … where,” the spider wheezed, six arms against the door frame and his knees, “is my baby!?”

Husker’s head collided with the underside of the bar. Several glasses and bottles crashed and clattered. Nifty raced past, big eyeball tearing up, “ANGEL!”

Given her shrill cry, it wasn’t long until hotel patrons were trickling in, mumbling and muttering. Charlie and Vagatha were front and center suddenly. Alastor noted how a particular white haired menace was missing.

He found Miss Miller watching from the corner, eyes wide and hands wringing, those wings jittering. And despite all those nervous habits, she smiled with wet eyes.

Alastor perched his elbow atop her head, mocking a yawn, glancing down. “You’re not keen to celebrate the return of the prodigal slu*t?”

Her eyes snapped up, hand whacking just a tad too hard into his stomach. Alastor restrained the natural reaction to snarl and rub at the spot. Even still she left his arm on her skull.

“I plan to give it some time. There’s no point in rushing and freaking him out. He should probably get settled back in.”

“You intend to share our little sabbatical into espionage?”

“Eventually, he deserves to know that there isn’t a sword over his head. For now, I’m glad he’s back.”

Her lips snaked upward, that nervous energy melting into something calm and … more. Confidence? Perhaps even knowing.

“You expected this,” Alastor muttered, giving her an impressed look.

She shrugged, still staring at Angel Dust’s reunion with the patrons and pet pig.

“Not expected. I just like to think things through. You know … logic. If X then Y, if Y then Z and so on and so forth.”

“And if it had gone wrong?”

Miss Miller slipped out from under him.

“Well it isn’t like he can die twice. Now, I need to put up all that food.” As she stepped away, heading towards the ballroom, she winked.

Alastor grinned, feeling a twinge of mirth and something warmer than amusem*nt. For once he didn’t feel the need to inject himself into the lobby madness meandering back to the abandoned festivities. No point in letting his assortment of treats go to waste. Or an opportunity to harass his pretty prey.

Chapter 33: Houdini

Chapter Text

Husk
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 142

“Good morning! I hope everyone had a wonderful breakfast! And thank you so much for joining me!”

“Like we had a choice Princess.”

Husk’s head throbbed from last night’s excess drinking. Not that it wasn’t always throbbing for one reason or another but this one felt particularly heinous. So here he was in the depths of this miserable fiasco, probably with alcohol poisoning. That’s what he gets for going to the parlor after being M.I.A. PissAnt, a demon who neither resembled piss or an ant, pulled out liquor from a lower ring. Hellborn sh*t was usually magic laced and gave the worst of alcoholics a rough ride.

“Today starts our Buddy Program! Once a week everyone is going to get a new partner to learn about! You’ll be assigned a chore to do that way we can foster a sense of community and teamwork. Each team receives a set of questions to fill out about their partner and their assignments. All that’s left is giddy up!”

Who taught her to say ‘giddy up’? Someone needed to be punched in the mouth.

Slowly but surely all the demons paired off. Threatening food and wifi access the patrons to participate with little fuss. Why did he have to participate though?

“And that just leaves … Husk and Angel Dust!”

His nausea doubled, threatening him, while something akin to cold sweats matted the fur of his neck. Anyone but Angel …

The p*rn star had been back for a week now, though not as excitable as before. Nifty seemed to be the only one who saw Angel and that was because the pig. Husk hated involuntarily noting the absence. Looking around and not seeing Angel was far more a nuisance than being picked on or set off.

Without the pink spider no one quite gave him the same attention. Didn’t listen. Didn’t scratch his head. Didn’t irritate the f*cking sh*t out of him. Everything turned felt monotonous.

Strange how wanting something and getting something weren’t the same.

Angel looked fine, all things considered. Tall and statuesque. Tongue working around a lollipop that stained the edge of his mouth a little too red.

Husk jerked his eyes away, sucking down half a bottle of something. It just made the nausea roll over him.

“So uh,” Angel slouched a bit, shrinking against the hallway, “How ya been Husky?”

“Drunk.”

“Heh. Yeah, that’s uh— good.” If it weren’t for his massive ears, he’d missed that breathy response entirely.

“Looks like Charlie wants us to take care of the laundry?”

He groaned, claw popping the cork out from a fresh bottle of wine. “Let’s just get this sh*t over with Legs. f*cking hate laundry.”

Glancing back, while wishing he hadn’t, it was painful to witness how small Angel looked. That meekness on across his face. The way two arms shoved into pockets, while another rubbed up and down.

Their eyes met just barely, but the more feminine stalled.

Angel Dust: p*rn star, pop star, silver screen damsel, and ex-mobster was acting like a frightened school girl. Husk could barely stomach it, especially when hearing that pitiful voice. “Seems like a weird thing to hate …”

No one expected Husk to indulge in conversation. Not a soul knew anything about him, not even Alastor, keeping death relatively simple. Miserable, but simple. “Always hated it.”

“Like back up top always?”

Husk jerked at the laundry room door. The knob to slammed through the drywall and the air scented with something … sharp?

Angel had jumped back from harsh racket, arms wrapped tight around that slender frame. This was why Husk avoided anyone and everyone. He always set them on edge one way or another. “Feel free to f*ck off Legs. Don’t need two of us slaving away down ‘ere.”

Three bed sheets in Husks noted how Angel hadn’t left, still in the doorway looking like some miserable street urchin.

“Fine,” he huffed launching balled up bedding at the spider. “Start filling up the other one with whites. And do not add the detergent. I’ll do that.”

Eventually, with nothing but the shuffling sound of linen, the washing machines were filled, leaving him with nothing better to do than wait. Husk slid down into the floor until he was comfortable enough to start drinking again. Angel kept standing, hands running back and forth along the slick white machine.

For five minutes he tried not to watch Angel, who was so obviously trying to come up with something to say. But since when did Angel Dust have trouble yammering? It reminded him of those long ago days, watching sick animals struggle to accomplish the most natural of tasks.

“So why’d you decide to do the laundry? Ya know, if ya hate it.”

There came a groan, punctuated by paw pads thumping on metal. “The f*ck you want to know for?”

Angel rolled the paper in between his hands. “Just somethin’ we gotta do.”

“Since when did you care about this bullsh*t redemption shtick?”

The sheet crumpled under trembling fingers. “You’ve heard. Every sh*t stain in the city’s heard. Val’s M.I.A and that’s left me in a weird spot. Plenty’a demons don’t like me ya know?”

“So? You can’t handle a few assholes?”

“I can handle a lotta assholes … but I can’t handle the hundreds of demons Valentino used me to f*ck over at the same time. I ain’t ready to go back to that! He’s gonna come back and— and he’s gonna! Oh f*ck. Then I’ll never— but then he’ll. I can’t take it, he’s make me …”

Husk couldn’t fathom how bad it all needed to be for Angel to overlook the opportunity a low hanging sexual comment. Then came the soft, ugly choking noises, punctuated by incoherent ramblings and gasps. Long legs rattled as the sobs built into a constricted mess.

Claws gripped on his tail, failing to tame the bristling. He couldn’t remove the invisible squeeze of his throat either. “I— uh, I’ll go grab ya something to drink.”

Uncomfortable was a sensation he knew all too well. From watching animals and people suffer and die. But when alive, death brought him a comfort, knowing that those physical injuries would have a concrete end. Dying never phased him but the connections that made death significant did.

Early on Husk understood the way harsh, vague sensations of emotional trauma accumulated in people. Bubbling and boiling to no end. It took so long for him to abandon that part of humanity, and in the end, there was a sort of peace in avoiding it. Especially in Hell.

Yet here he was, bringing back not only another bottle of wine, but a massive glass of water.

After rounding the door frame his natural senses warred. He didn’t see the towering demon, but he could hear a tight wheezing fighting with pitiful whimpering for dominance. There was the sharp scent of fear and demonic tears. Angel Dust managed to wedge his lithe frame between the drier and the wall, now rocking back and forth, mouth gasping and chattering.

Memories bounced through Husk. Images of soldiers, wondering if they’d make it home. Veterans lost to a war already over. Drunks lost in an alcohol fueled fugue. His own cold nights after his wife and kid were gone.

“Aye Legs, come on out of there.”

Husk tried again. And despite three or four more attempts, there was zero recognition.

A paw went out to tug on the hem of the striped jacket. Angel jerked back violently, arms going, knees pulling in so far that his famous fluff started to squish.

f*cking f*ck he’d always been bad at this. Once upon a time, he’d get up and leave. Folks snap out of it eventually. No one ever helped him through this. The inkling of ‘what if’ drifted though. What if someone had helped him through all that suffering? Husk rubbed his face, struggling.

“Makes me wonder how many asshats down here do this every day. If you consider all the military vets down here, near all of ‘em I suspect, that’s a lot. Then all the ones in your business. Then the actually evil ones. We’re all f*cked down here aren’t we?”

He took a long drink, settling across from Angel in the corner.

“My old man was the first one I ever saw break down. Mom wasn’t any better off really. They’d made it to the US somehow when I was baby. Always figured they were running, I just never learned what from. We all lived and worked in a hotel. That’s why I hate doing laundry. Spent the first 15 years of my life doing nothing but that.”

Cards appeared and Husk started shuffling and cutting the deck in intricate ways. Twirling some. Flicking around others. “Harry Houdini was dead by the time I learnt about him. Missed him by a few years. Then I met a man who pulled a piece of candy from behind my ear. Apparently he’d worked with Houdini and was starting his own vaudeville tour. I left with him to be an assistant. Turned out to be a piece of sh*t but eh, aren’t we all?”

Husk took a long drink of the wine. Over the bottle’s end he caught some movement. Angel had stopped shaking. Though still huddled up and shivering. How the f*ck could he be cold down here?

“That why you’s good with cards?”

“That schmuck couldn’t handle a deck to begin with.”

He fanned out the cards, offering them up to Angel to pick. The spider flinched, hand indecisively floating in the air. For a moment, Husk thought there would be another panic attack. Instead, Angel took the card closest to his hand, brushing it barely.

“You know what it is?”

Angel nodded. “Good, now put it back anywhere.”

For a dramatic flair he put manipulated the deck in to a riffle fan before spreading them onto the floor for a wash. Angel bent forward a little, mouth bent in confusion. Once back in a cohesive deck, he handed over a card.

“I thought you's was a pro Husky?”

“No that’s definitely your card.”

Angel flipped it over, shoving a 3 of spades in his face, “This ain’t mine!”

Husk grinned, full of teeth, “I think you ought check that out again.”

With a huff the spider demon checked the card again, mouth going slack.

“That your card, Legs?”

Cackling laughter burst out as the card, a queen of hearts, fell to the floor. Slowly, the sharp sound went away as Angel went forward, fists clenched against the tile. Then came a strained noise. One of holding back tears.

“Aye,” Husk gently patted atop Angel’s head. But it just shook, a resounding no as raw eyes barely peered up. His paw lowered, the other patting on his chest.

“Get over here.”

Angel launched forward, six arms grappling around the cat as the room went from silent to sound of sobbing wails. Plenty of f*cks would think this worse but he knew better. And he felt relieved for it.

Time wasn’t something he’d ever been good at keeping track of. And being in the basem*nt didn’t help either. The laundry definitely wasn’t done either.

“You’s a good man Husky.” Given the hushed muttering, he wasn’t supposed to hear that. And even so, his entire face burned. Thankfully his tail was between his back and the wall, keeping Angel from witnessing the nervous jittering.

Finally Angel got up, turning away fast to wipe away the tears. “Who ever heard of a grown man doin’ the housework?! Men ain’t got no business with a ladies work and I don’t see any other gals here! So—“

He pranced over to the washer, bending over as if nothing had happened. But the smile on Angel’s face told him differently. A lot of sh*t had happened.

Just as Angel went to pour in the detergent, he grabbed the bottle of bleach too. “Damnit Legs!”

He yanked the bottle away, leaning over Angel to point at the damp load. “These ain’t white! f*cking Hell, figures you’d be too attractive for house work.”

Slender arms wrapped around his waist, soft fur nuzzling into his neck. Coy lips dipped around his ear, ticking the fur. “Ohh so you think I’m attractive?”

Shivers and sparks cause the fur on his back to prickle. Husk did his best to swallow the looming purr in his throat, “Whatever. You wouldn’t be popular if you were ugly Angel.”

Angel’s cheek landed in the crook of his neck, nuzzling. “If you's says so Husky~”

Chapter 34: Tightness

Chapter Text

Alastor
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 142

“I’m duty bound to inform you that Husker is adamant we make Angel Dust aware of his employment termination.”

His plaything stopped stirring, a sigh blowing away the pot’s steam. “Yeah, I guess now is as good as ever.”

“Alas good shows end eventually! Our distraught Angel Dust hopelessly playing the repentant sinner, unable to cope in the clutches of fame! Waiting for a deranged master that never arrives. How spectacular a plot! Making all that fuss for himself; a taste of true madness!”

“You really are awful.” He lounged across a kitchen chair as she moved to the fridge.

“I’m touched when you make note of my finer qualities, ma jolie proie!”

“He deserves to know. I genuinely thought waiting would help but if Husk thinks so, then it’s probably time.”

Alastor sneered at the wall, tamping down the instinct to grind his fangs. When did Husker’s temperamental, sullen opinion weigh so heavily on her decisions? As if the feline were the one who knew best! As if his own opinion was irrelevant!

“And when might we schedule this revelation?”

“We?”

Her disdain was palpable even as she pulled something from the oven. A gnawing sensation bubbled within him.

“This is as much my little project, is it not? How terribly rude of you to try and cut me out of the spotlight!”

“Oh my god. Shame on me for trying not to make this harder than it should be! Do you need to be there?” Despite still facing the stove, her arms flailed outward, wings giving a shake.

“But of course! And I do hate missing the end of a show. And what if our ousted starlet isn’t so keen on how you’ve made him a pawn without his— oh, what was that word you like so much? Consent! There it is! As delightful as it is to see sinners’ true demonic forms— ”

Miss Miller still hadn’t looked at him. No, she was now contemplating off into empty air as per usual!

I despise you cowering for anyone but me.

“I understand. When are you available?”

Alastor’s eye twitched, mouth tightening across his fangs. She wasn’t doing anything for supper at the moment! So why, just why, was she staring off into nothingness, ignoring him?

Alastor took his thumb and forefinger, pinching the iridescent tips together, pulling them up to cause an uncomfortable tension. The immediate payoff was an utterly surprised keen, her back arching in a laughably animalistic way. Once upon a time he’d managed to catch a rabbit by the ears and before it stilled, it writhed and squirmed all the same.

Her head craned all the way back where she finally laid eyes on his looming form. Alastor gave her one of his lesser know smiles, a charming smirk, followed by a wink. “For you Miss Miller? Anytime.”

He released the decorative appendages. But while stumbling forward across the floor, Miss Miller ripped her eyes away again!

Irksome wretch!

Terrorizing her was all well and good but would he need to each time he wanted to catch her gaze?

Wanted?

The word violently crashed through his consciousness. “We shall meet in the morning! Good day to you!”

Alastor left in a way that felt like retreating. He was no coward! How foolish of him to consider something so unsightly!

Him!

Fleeing?

Never.

This was all simply an annoyance given she’d lost her primary fear of him. An unfortunate circ*mstance, but perhaps unavoidable. All of Hell was immobilized by their reverence and dread of him! It was quite natural to find Miss Miller’s adjustment to him unfortunate. Nothing but a mere reflection of her foolishness surely. Letting her guard down. Trusting him.

What an utterly daft bearcat.

———

Husk
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 141

Husk was drowning. Not in booze either. Nerves up and down and all through his body antagonized him. Mocking his anticipation.

Wings left a note that they were all meeting in Alastor’s office after breakfast. That was f*ck all early for him but given the subject matter, Husk couldn’t sleep or stop jittering. His stomach lurched, which meant he couldn’t keep the booze down and in turn left his head splitting.

f*ck this.

Scratching at wood was an unfortunate demonic trait, precisely like a house cat. The underside of the bar was in ribbons.

Sure he didn’t need to be there when Angel got the news.

But damnit, he wanted to be. When was the last time he’d actually wanted something?

Alastor didn’t glance up from his paper work as the cat barged in, perching right on the couch cushion’s. His leg bounced, claws starting to preen on the fabric.

“If you ruin the sofa I’ll be forced to use a squirt bottle Husker.”

He scoffed and grumbled, crossing his arms tight, “Where’s them dames at?”

Alastor snapped, a bar cart materializing within Husk’s reach. “You seem to be on edge my good man. I’ve heard patience is a virtue.”

Husker poured two fingers of the expensive stuff, never one to turn down Alastor’s private stash. “f*ck virtues. Neither of us got them. What’s holding this up, Al?”

“You’re the one who arrived early sourpuss, and if I recall, you were the one who initiated this entire circus.”

Alastor swiveled in his chair, all smiles. And in bizarrely good spirits. Despite Husker’s indentured servitude, the Radio Demon was fond of him. “Miss Miller is currently on her way here with our spidery fellow. I believe she was otherwise occupied this morning.”

“Heh," Husker snickered, grateful for anything else to focus on. “Gettin’ cozy with Wings lately? Keeping tabs on her?”

That vicious smile broadened but crooked, red eyes going narrow. “I’m afraid that I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“Cut the sh*t Al. You’ve got my number and I’ve got yours. That girl is stupid enough to put up with your sh*t and seems to keep you not bored. And … she can’t hold her liquor as well as she thinks. Sometimes she gets a little loose lipped.”

Husk grinned. He’d won this round for sure as Alastor’s eyes flickered and mouth drew smaller. The lack of response said it all. When Alastor has a real problem, he typically ignored it.

“What’s the deal Al? If you can’t tell me, then you can’t tell anyone.”

There came a long pause, one where Husk almost imagined he’d made a fool’s mistake. Alastor laced his fingers, sitting up just a bit straighter. Another one of his tells. Anytime Alastor was questioned, he doubled down into that facade.

“She is particularly—”

The Radio Demon took a long drink, turning away to begrudgingly mutter, “ transfixing.”

Husk almost did a spit take.

“sh*t.”

Alastor looked almost reserved.

Maybe even bashful?

For as long as he knew that red bastard, people weren’t transfixing. Entertaining. Exciting. Expendable. Those were words he’d heard before. But whatever it was that transfixing meant, Alastor seemed to have a hard time processing it.

Husk knew he’d regret asking. “What's that supposed to mean Al?”

The words drew out slowly, as if testing them in the air. “Miss Miller lacks the notion of self preservation. Those fantastical moments of dread, followed by blossoming fear! And yet be the one to coax her out of such a wondrous state. The monster and the savior! A fine retelling of Jekyll and Hyde, I must say.”

The smile plastered across Alastor’s face was near euphoric.

Yeah.

Husk regretted asking now. Too late unfortunately.

“That’s f*cked Al.”

“You did ask.”

“You’re gonna seriously f*ck her in the head?” It was a question and an accusation.

Alastor’s mind ran wild with possibilities, leaving Husk to his libations. His little day dream was poetic. The Archangel of Protection at his feet. His prey. He could see it. How her lifespan left her craving fear and craving the need to feel protected. All that carved deep in her mind. Marks carved into her body. Delicious, hot, fresh blood. He felt the same way.

Hiding his identity despite being known for his voice, a prey to his father, to society, to his existence as a colored man. In Hell he stood powerful. Could hunt and proclaim himself aloud to everyone. It didn’t matter if they didn’t want to hear him. They would.

The conversation didn’t go further as the office door swung open, howling laughter entering with the dames.

Angel wasn’t in his typical outfit. Husk found it a refreshing sight. A long yellow dress with a pale blue corset shoved up under the fuzzy bust. A big white sun hat. It almost made the spider look happy. Not just fake happy.

The spider pushed the dragonfly over, accidentally knocking her to the floor. “Damnit doll, I thought you’d develop some kinda demonic strength by now.” Angel scratched the back of his head while she still laughed, sprawled out on the floor.

“What’s got her in stitches?”

Angel perked up on sight, not noticing the cat before.

“Oh Husky baby~,” Angel purred, slinking over to the couch. The spider lewdly sprawled out, head in Husk’s lap.

Husker didn’t shove him into the floor and barely even groaned. Instead he flicked Angel’s hat with a grin. “Don’t get too comfortable Legs. Sit up.”

Angel’s face turned into confusion as he looked between Mia, still on the floor catching her breath, then Alastor, watching over her from the corner of his eye.

“What the f*ck is this sh*t? This better not be some kinda intervention. Them sh*ts is borin'. And why we in Smiles’ office any who? I didn’t do anything! I swear!” His voice was starting to rise, eyes going wide.

Husk’s paw landed on Angel’s arm, muttering, “It’s ok Legs.”

Wings took the empty cushion next to Angel and smiled. “The three of us worked on something for you. If you’ll have it that is.”

Her voice was hesitant, looking up at him meekly. All of this worried Angel and it showed. “Why’s it the three of ya? Not Princess and Vaggie?”

“They wouldn’t have agreed with our little side project! Certain deals take expert negotiators!” Alastor chimed, leaning against his desk.

Angel took a second as the thoughts in his brain slowly rolled together. He jerked up off the couch, using enough hands to point at each of them. “You guys is the reason I got fired! Val’s gonna f*ckin’ kill me ya know that?! You don’t know what you’ve done!” Anger and fear seeped into his voice but he noticed Alastor producing a thin stack of papers then handed them to Mia.

“What's that?” His voice went weak, fear overtaking anger.

“This is your contract,” she said handing him the stack, “and Arackniss's. There are also receipts of transfer.” Mia’s voice was soft, calm, and slow, trying to sooth him through the process.

The room fell silent as he used all six arms to inspect the contracts at rapid fire. There were three receipts. One receipt stated a transfer of Arackniss's contract from Alastor to Mia. The second was a receipt was for a transfer of his contract, from Valentino to an A.L., the same day p*rn Studios started goin’ to sh*t. The final one stated his contract’s transfer from A.L. to Mia.

Angel collapsed to his knees.

“Wh— w-why? Why do you’s have these?” He whispered, trembling in place.

“For you.” Husk answered.

“And how’d you convince Val to give me up!?” It came out as a biting bark, Angel’s teary eyes searching for an answer he couldn’t understand.

Alastor snickered and grinned, feigning to inspect his claws. “That fiend found a better offer!”

“So Val’s disappearance … How did you— No, where did he go?! What did you do??” Angel’s shoulders shook violently as a sob built in his chest, but just before the climax Husk knelt down in the floor, grabbing one of his hands.

“Ah ah ah! Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth our spindly friend! Best to leave those details to their newly minted mistress.”

Mia threw Alastor a fearsome look but went to Angel’s side, “Please ignore him. That being said, we were hoping you’d allow me to keep the contract until the date listed.”

“Why’s you need ‘em?” Angel glared, defensive and rightfully scared.

Husk noted how Mia and Alastor shared a particularly knowing look. The kind where they were definitely debating something without words. Alastor’s hand swept out and she cleared her throat, “That is the day when Alastor will be crowned the reigning Prince of Pride.”

Both fuzzy demons choked on air, but Husk recovered first, jumping to his feet. “What the f*ck she talking about Al?”

“Yes indeed my good friends! I’ve made a deal with the Devil himself! While those details are strictly confidential, there will come a point where I, a humble radio host, will become the Prince of Pride! Once that time comes, anyone residing within this fine establishment will have contracts to the hotel thus barring them from making bargains of less reputable means! It is an investment in this venue’s future success!” His staff cheering and spewed fan fair while the other two remained frozen.

Mia interjected, “And before I forget, everyone in this room has to sign a NDA contract. Sorry, but this protects me too.”

“What the f*ck though? How’d you have a hand in this sh*t?!” Angel squalled.

She laughed nervously pointedly avoiding Angel’s intense gaze. “I’m also bound by my honor to keep that a secret.”

The NDA materialized. Alastor, Husk, and Mia signed it without a second thought but Angel hesitated.

“Please? I mean, it isn’t like I let Alastor keep the papers full time anyway.” The not-so-much-a-joke joke seemed to dissolve some of the tension. “No offense.”

He shrugged, “None taken, darling!”

With the paper signed, she sighed in relief with a smile. “So Angel, you’re ok with me keeping the contracts until Alastor’s promotion?”

He didn’t say anything, but instead started blubbering tears.

Six thin arms picked her and Husk up at the same time, spinning them around the room. Angel laughed and sobbed and smiled, spouting off in incomprehensible Italian. He fell over with the two still locked in.

Alastor sneered watching the touching. Husk could imagine just what that singular twitching eye entailed. Probably burning the rug and ripping up the floor.

Angel kissed the cheeks of Mia and Husk, “You get down here too Smiles!”

Static crackled and rolled. In a lightning jump, Angel landed a small smooch on Alastor’s temple.

“No! Back you despicable pansy! Away with you!” he shouted, thoroughly whacking Angel with his microphone, shadows growing up and out in the room.

Silence settled back into the room. Angel fidgeted and rubbed his palms together, starting to bounce his leg. Then his hands started to wipe at his eyes despite a smile. “I think I need to go lay down or something. Feelin’ kinda dizzy and all that.”

“Of course. We can talk more later. If you want to. Maybe have some waffles with Nuggs?” Wings gave him a soft smile but the tears were already starting again as Angel nodded.

Husk gingerly directed the spider towards the door, flashing her a soft grin. “That pig f*cking loves waffles.”

———

Alastor
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 141

And there it was.

Their dirty work was done.

Miss Miller glowed, eyeing the contracts. She had no use for them, contractually obligated to never call on them, and her ownership meant that Angel Dust and Arackniss couldn’t have their souls claimed by anyone else.

She’d protected them. “I do suppose congratulations are in order?”

The bonus was that Valentino was gone. Even if he tried to find out who f*cked him over, their tracks were covered.

And even still the Goetic Order prosecuting one of Pride’s most famous overlords wouldn’t cause an internal investigation anytime soon.

“We did it!”

Her face glowed, resembling Charlie in a fit of happiness. She bounced excitedly and even twirled around. Of course this wasn’t as entertaining as watching her cower.

Husker’s unappreciated insight nagged at him. Was this woman becoming a weak point for him? Her convoluted life intrigued him. An ex-angel human parading about Hell as a demon. Committing to saving the souls of sinners.

“Congratulations.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him. “I said we did it. Angel is out of his abysmal situation and you no longer owe me anything. So yes, congratulations!”

Alastor paused, uncertain about the spreading weight in his torso. Owing another being was a detestable weak spot! Shouldn’t he be ecstatic to rid himself of such a nuisance?

Why wasn’t he giddy to be rid of this preposterous simpleton!?

“Guess I’ll be out of your hair now. Uhm, even though it was an agreement, I couldn’t have done it without you. Thank you Alastor.” She flashed him a warm, sincere, far too endearing smile as her hand landed on the door know.

How could his chest feel so tight?

“Miss Miller,” Alastor called out. As her head whipped around, eyes wide and curious, he realized he had nothing to say.

A few seconds passed before her head tilted in place of a question. A red claw gestured to her shirt. Her eyebrows stitched together as she glanced down. As soon as she did he flicked her on the nose.

“Oh for f*ck’s sake.” She groaned, but that annoyed expression split into a grin regardless. “Oldest trick in the book Alastor! It won’t happen again!”

Her fist knocked into his chest as she grinned, finally leaving his office.

As the door shut and her laughter faded away, his smile fell. And it felt like a boulder was caught in his throat.

Chapter 35: Glamour

Chapter Text

Mia
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse:134

Days rolled by without incident. Since Angel’s return, Charlie’s stress near evaporated! In turn, Vaggie chilled out to the point of terrifying the patrons.

And given Angel’s mobster background, Mia introduced him to I.M.P. The demons caught on like matches and kerosene, bonding over their mutually absurd devotion to firearms. Even if he couldn’t traverse the rings like they could, he was well equipped to drum up business.

Husk seemed to reap the benefits too. Mia wouldn’t say the two were in a relationship and she wouldn’t say they were polite to each other but something was happening. Icing on her proverbial cake.

She felt proud and warm now, doubling down on her hotel work. The world felt like it was turning!

All the overt positivity fueled Charlie into hosting a recruiting event, a soiree at the hotel. Unofficially the ball was dedicated to Angel’s progress. He got to choose the theme of Old Italian Hollywood Glamour. As fun as it all sounded, that meant Mia became a kitchen wench for five straight days, bossing around any unfortunate soul she could force into helping. Several of the patrons had taken to skipping meals in fear of being dragged into her manic, commanding preparations.

“Oh my f*cking wrists,” she huffed.

“Could you just get the f*ck out of here?” Crymini snarled, thoroughly soaked from washing the massive pots.

“With Charlie checking in every hour, I believe we’ll be well off for now. Why not have a short rest? Razzle and Dazzle won’t let anything go awry.” Irina was terribly kind on the days she wasn’t having a psychotic relapse.

Dazzle fluttered up, grabbing the fabric of her shoulder, dragging her out to the hall. “Ok! Ok! I’m going. I’ll be back to finish up around—”

It was only 9AM?? Everyday she’d come to the kitchen at 4AM just to get everything done. Not that she needed to technically but for Charlie? Who was she kidding, she was hopeless. Was this how Lucifer felt?

Mai couldn't fathom how she'd become so dedicated to her demonic niece.

The party would start at 7PM and eventually she needed to sleep, shower, and find a decent enough outfit to work the whole thing. She could always ask Charlie to conjure something but, the last time she’d made that sort of request her lovely niece had taken it a tad too far. Apparently there was a reason Charlie didn’t lean on magic for everything. Between that wild imagination and overwhelming, potentially world ending powers it was hard to control for such menial tasks.

“I’ll be back to check everything! Text me if something comes up please! And keep Fat Nugget out of the cannolis!” Her pleas fell on demonically deaf ears as Charlie’s tiny red demons saluted and shoved her away.

Having a coup in her kitchen left her skin crawling! For months that was her domain and now she couldn’t even step foot in it!

Mia retreated to her garden hammock, hoping to hide under the purple leaf canopy. Hell's weather was rarely so nice. Exhaustion caught up fast and pushed her into sleep. She wasn't conscious enough to worry about the lulling, combing sensation through her hair.

— … Michael, I’m … —

Adrenaline wrenched her awake as if the voice were in her ear. She already had the knife from under her pillow, scanning the room.

But it was just her.

A dream?

No, it was a memory. A ghostly, all too real memory that left her chest hurting. In waking up she couldn't even remember how the voice sounded, leaving her lost and frustrated. Her fists slammed downward into the ... mattress?

“Not again.” As of late she’d been dozing off around the hotel by accident. The lobby, the piano, the kitchen table.

The memories were harder lately, more vivid. Usually Mia woke up back in bed with the glamour ring removed. Guilt cut through her, knowing it had to be Gabriel looking out for her. He'd been in Hell all week but kept his distance. They’d not spoken since their fight but maybe it was time. For him to go to these lengths just to watch over her felt ridiculous and she was over the cold shoulder. Mia felt cruel suddenly. Since when did she hold a grudge?

Life was too short for spite with her dedicated, grumpy brother. She’d talk to him today.

After a gloriously scalding shower she spotted a particularly sizable box on her coffee table, covered in elegantly embossed black velvet.

Inside she found a smaller box and a gown so fine that it looked like liquid moonlight. Paler than silver, but more tonal than white. It matched her hair and wings and eyes all at the same time.

Awestruck she pulled the gown up to her body. There were long, delicately jeweled sleeves with deep plunges in the front and back. The drop waist panels came to point past the small of her back then flowed to the floor. A perfect length to dance in and it would sparkle like magic under the ballroom lights.

There were also a pair of t-strap heels, the exact color of her inky skin. Mia couldn’t imagine anyone who knew her this well. Who could know her body this intimately? It certainly wasn't Lucifer. He would have left a funny note or chosen a dress far more racy.

That left Charlie or Gabriel. They certainly knew her the best. Warily she eyed to the small box, almost scared to open it. She feared what gaudy accessory laid in wait. Mia would wear it because she loved her family dearly, but oh did her stomach twist.

What would be worse? An extravagant, flamboyant accessory from Charlie or something so terribly mismatched that it looked like a gag from Gabriel?

After a deep breath, she opened the box. Despite her immediate confusion, Mia was relieved. Overjoyed even! Maybe they deserved more credit. Diamonds of various clarities, rubies, and garnets came together in asymmetric clusters to form a choker.

Immediately she put on the necklace, fingers gliding against the stones. Even though it was far too early for her to get dressed Mia raced to put on the gown and shoes. No longer was she some dragonfly demoness but rather an ethereal fae goddess. If only she had a crown. Her wild bedhead made her look like the ruler in a high fantasy novel.

Brush in hand she started experimenting on her hair. Eventually she settled on a smooth, thick bun at the base of her skull. With her hair coifed she stood up and stared at a completely different image. This time she a vintage Hollywood starlet: coy, beautiful, and daring.

There had to be magic woven into the dress. There was no other way explanation for how finely it fit, hugging the curves of her waist and back to her tail bone.

A furious beep set off, reminding her to check in with the kitchen. Mia thanked herself for having the foresight to set an alarm as she pulled on her clothes back on.

Downstairs she found everything particularly immaculate thanks to Razzle and Dazzle. Her earlier hostages had been dismissed and were loitering and gabbing in the hallway, eyeing various new demons.

The three were giggling away as Mia wiggled into the group. “What are you chatting about?”

Crymini snickered as Irina gave a soft glance to an uncharacteristically stoic Nifty. Mia followed the single eye down the hall to the lobby, finding an unexpected guest.

“Vas?”

Mia forgot good manners and rushed towards her demonic disguised brother. This form sported a third eye where his scar usually was, two fangs splitting the edges of his blueish mouth, with his skin was acid green dappled with asymmetric cobalt marks. Between the sharp features and thin proportions he looked exactly like an anime character.

Of course Nifty was so awe struck.

That edgy, fashionable, J-Pop violet tuxedo didn’t help much either. Well, that and the makeup and the chains. Vassago might put all in attendance to shame.

“What are you doing here?” They both stopped, thinking better of hugging this time.

He shrugged, showing her his phone screen. A text from Luci telling him about the party.

“Oh. I thought you didn’t come down here anymore?”

He shrugged, “I make a point to visit every few years or so. I figured stopping by to see you and inspect all this would be interesting. And I’m here with Air Bud.”

Mia guess that was as good a reason as anything else. At least now she could find Gabriel and maybe smooth things over.

“Do you have a date for this evening?”

“Ew you already tried screwing Gabe,” he mocked jabbing an elbow into her.

She rubbed her rib cage, pointedly ignoring that. “You didn’t leave an expensive looking box in my room did you?”

Vassago shook his head. “Sounds more like Luci.”

So much for that mayfly theory. “Wait for me here, there’s someone I’d like you to meet!” Vassago leaned against the wall, flipping his hair and winking at the gaggle.

“Nifty, can you come here for a second?”

The small cyclops’ eye twitched on one side. If Mia was going to die in Hell, she could see Nifty being the one to do it.

“He’s an old family friend I invited to the party. Would you mind if I introduced you to him? I think he needs a date.” Mia winked suggestively at Nifty who went from homicidal yandere to sparkly doe-eyed immediately.

But as soon as it started, her expression tore away, an unfamiliar fearfulness swallowing her small frame. “He’s out of my league …”

Mia’s knees hit the floor, grabbing one of Nifty’s hands.

“You’ve worked hard to help make this happen and even if he isn’t the one, shouldn’t you at least have some fun tonight?”

A small tear pricked Nifty’s eye, followed by a sniffle. Even still the cyclops girl made one glance at Vassago and straightened up, ready.

During the introduction, she was surprised by how charismatic and calm Nifty seemed all so suddenly. Mia meandered away, turning around every so often to watch her handy work.

Eventually she backed into what felt like a wall. Her eyes shot upward to find Alastor shifting his gaze from Nifty to her and back. They hadn’t spoken since concluding their business. With the party planning and training and working, she hadn’t thought too much of it. Her body relaxed against his chest, even as his imposing form loomed above. From this angle she noticed just how fluffy his bangs were. Mia bit down the urge to ruffle them.

“Long time, no see. How’s the weather up there?”

“Surely you’re more clever than that Miss Miller! Perhaps your wits are waning?

“Sue me. If you can’t tell I’ve been busy.”

”As I’ve heard! It seems you’ve found yet another task for Nifty?”

“Just introducing her to an old family friend. I think they’ll get along a little too well.” As if on cue Vassago glanced over at her curiously, three eyes expertly gesturing to Alastor. Mia stuck out her tongue and Vassago returned the gesture, ending their obviously mature exchange. Alastor extended her his arm and she accepted, following him away from the first floor chaos.

“I suspect you mean a brother.”

“You’re a fast learner. Yes, that’s Vassago, a Prince of the Ars Goetia and one of the Fallen.”

“Are there no siblings from which you aren’t estranged, my dear?” Mia huffed, not keen to the thought no matter how true it was.

“I don’t think so. According to Luci several siblings keep a portrait of me as a dart board. Gabriel is always angry at me. I’ve only recently buried the proverbial hatchet with Vassago and Luci.”

———

Alastor
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse:134

Alastor half checked out of her rambling as she began chattering about the evening’s festivities. Only now as they strolled outside the building did he realize that he’d sought out her company.

Over the week he’d sequestered away to avoid this foul nagging. And yet it bled through! On a nightly patrol he found Miss Miller asleep and frightfully defenseless against even the weakest of demons! That time he’d done well by ignoring the intrusive feeling.

Or so he liked to tell himself. Alastor went back and forth to check on her slumped form six times only able to leave once Vagatha found her. The second night was what tormented him though.

Alastor delighted in being a proper gentleman! But now he found himself in a conundrum. Chivalry and duty dictated that he not leave her in such a vulnerable position.But how?!

Why not wake her and force her to bed? First, it seemed terribly rude with the impending festivities. Second, Alastor wasn’t quite able to bring himself to no matter how much it writhed in him that he should! If she woke up he'd have to talk with her and face that bizarre urge in his gut. Usually he indulged the need to terrorize others or get his kicks. Her entire existence plagued him.

On the other hand he couldn’t just enter a young woman’s bedroom. The indecency of it!

He'd struggled with the decision, pacing up and down the hall with what to do. On his seventh lap though he found the lizard shrink observing Miss Miller. All from a safe distance but a fierceness twisted inside, blackness leaching out of him. The sight reminded him of one too many things. Their evening with Valentino. A terribly unfortunate victim of his. His mother.

There was no way around it. He created a diversion down the hall, startling the doctor away, before gathering up his foolish prey.He'd resolved to only give in once.

Once became four though, including today when he saw her climb into the hammock. After days of torment, he gave in immediately, letting his claws stroke her hair.

Even without their official business agreement she was his prey! Self control never suited Alastor anyway. He was entitled to what was his. To what he wanted. If tormenting her entertained him than so be it! And to enjoy tormenting her, she needed to be well rested. Certainly!

Why else would he have spent the afternoon watching over her sleep, reading aloud to quell her troublesome tossing and turning.

Perfectly natural. Predators were entitled to to their prey.

So here he was again, playing security for the hotel and one particularly unwitting human. It was fine for now, given the work being done. One evening Nifty came home to escape the hotel, covered in flour and exhausted.

— — —

2 Days Ago

“Nifty, did you try Angel’s substances again?” he teased. Alastor lounged in his living room arm chair, picking through a Shakespearian anthology.

With enough charm and drama to rival Alastor, Nifty played fainting onto the rug of the floor. Her tiny body was spent, eyelid drooping. “Oh Al! We’ve been at it all day! I’ve washed all the dishes four or five or six times over and they stay dirty! We made dough and dough and dough and dough and dough and dough and dough dough dough dough AHHH! I HATE DOUGH.”

“And why have you taken up baking so suddenly?”

Nifty popped up with life and skittered over, standing in his lap, hands smushing his cheeks. “You don’t know?!”

“We’re having a party! A huge party! Charlie and Vaggie are celebrating how Angel isn’t a paid, deranged slu*t anymore! I mean, I guess he’s free slu*t now but there’s food and dancing! And! And it’s old timey! We can dress up!”

She rattled on about the foods they made, as Alastor snapped her clean and fresh. Nifty settled in his lap, picking up the book like a child, curious as to what her may-as-well-have-been-adoptive-father was reading.

“Are you excited?”

“I’d be more excited if I had a date.” Alastor chuckled as she harrumphed. Young women would be the same in any decade. Long ago he learned that Nifty had zero interest in using his status as an overlord to influence her love life. So he minded his own business, letting her tell him only what she wanted him to know.

“Will you go?”

“But of course! You know I simply can’t resist a soiree! Laissez les bons temps rouler!” Her smile turned mischievous. Despite him respecting her boundaries, she did not know how to respect his.

“I think you need a date Al.”

His eyes narrowed, “And with whom might you suggest Nifty?”

“Hrmmmmmm,” a finger tapped her lips in mock contemplation, “Few women are good enough dancers to be your partner! You could always invite Rosie or Mimzy, but I don’t like them!”

Nifty stayed firm to her belief that neither one of the women were good enough for him. Not that that was ever even a conversation to be had but she couldn’t see any two people in a room without imagining a deranged sort of relationship. He’d learned that the hard way over the years.

“What about Mia? She’s a fantastic dancer!”

“Is she now?” He feigned disinterest, pretending to be distracted by the book.

Nifty continued on. “But it’s too bad!”

Damn her wiles and ways. His eyes slid to her and she gleamed knowing she had him hook, line, and sinker.

“Oh she just may not go is all. She’s been doing all of the work for dinner and Milton is so strict with her, that she hasn’t had the chance to get something to wear! I can’t imagine her trying to go anyway covered in flour! Just like a sad Cinderella!”

“Hmm.”

That’s all Nifty got out of him on the matter but it was all she needed. In a display of affection she pecked him on the cheek and sped out of the room as if running from a bomb. He tolerated this in private with her though.

A two piece phone appeared, floating in the air, “Ah my dear Rosie! I have business for the hotel and need a rushed delivery. Of course I’d be delighted to visit tomorrow. You are the fairest host in Hell after all! I’m more than happy to bring my reserved goods.”

———

The daylight glinted off her necklace, reminding him of that delicious blood, just as it had at Rosie's. “Getting ready early are we?”

Her hand shot up to her neck. She chuckled nervously and shrugged, looking particularly flustered. "I was trying on an outfit for tonight and forgot to take it off.”

She seemed none the wiser and that suited him fine. “Nifty informed me you would forego tonight's shindig!”

“I fixed my issue earlier actually. Though now I have a mystery to solve.”

Much to his irritation their stroll was cut short by crossing paths with her mongrel brother. Alastor noted two razor sharp swords in hand and just how deftly the man moved. Now he didn’t see just some demon, but what was meant to be: an archangel.

Miss Miller dropped his arm like it burned, face twisting with nervousness. They’d been noticed and the mutt stormed over, swords still in hand. The weapons weren't uncommon in Hell but the blades carried a familiar glint that left him wary.

“A word with you sister,” he ground out. She stepped forward, not sparing Alastor a glance, hands wringing.

“Uhm, shouldn’t you be getting cleaned up for the party? And then maybe we could talk beforehand! If I knew Vas was coming we could have had lunch or something. But maybe tomorrow? Invite Charlie? Have a family day?” Since when did this disastrous bearcat try to placate someone?

Mutt’s teeth bared with a rumble, leaning in over her form. “Mia, we have company.”

The way his massive, angry form loomed over her nervous form put Alastor on the verge malice. Still, he'd dealt with angels before, and only the lesser kind. Would he be foolish enough to pick a fight with the Saint Gabriel? The answer was yes it seemed as she stepped in. Miss Miller steeled though, pulling her shoulders back.

“He knows Gabe. It’s fine. Can we just talk later, please? I'll explain everything bu-”

A hot wind whirled and whipped, the snarling dog’s eyes flashing blue. “You told him? This heinous sinner? Have you lost all your good sense finally Michael?”

Her chin tipped up, arms crossing. Alastor found her familiar, perhaps misguided confidence to be a relief.

“You know what,” she bit, causing him to grin. There was the fiesty heathen. “I wouldn’t have let it spill to anyone if just maybe you hadn’t been such an ass! If maybe you’d included me on what’s going on! That’s what happens when people get left out Gabe! They make do! So I made do!”

“But with him?! Why? Never mind that, you're merely human and this disgusting place disfigures mortals.”

“Oh so now you’re interested in how I’m doing? In what I think? I was human when you found me Gabe and it wasn't so disgusting when we were going to cafes!”

“You don’t understand what you’ve done Michael!”

“Well whose fault is that!? Damnit, I want to talk today! Not about this but you just can’t stand it can you? I’ve apologized so many times! I can’t just blindly follow you off into the unknown and I can't become a seraphim!”

“You’ve not listened to me in millenia! It's as if you're stained! Destined to seek out these wretched souls!”

“That’s not fair and you know it!”

The canine man snarled and rubbed his face, waves of magic rolling off. “You’re going to do what you want! If the Pagans come suck us dry because you can’t keep your mouth screwed shut then don’t come crying to me.”

“I’m not even worth eating!” She shot back.

“It doesn’t mean they won’t try!”

“Oh because I won’t just get to do it all over again?”

“You are an ungrateful charlatan!”

“You’re an overbearing jerk!”

Alastor took a step back as their squabble devolved into hateful insults. A prayer passed through his mind, grateful only to his mother for the gift of zero siblings.This entire exchange left him more uneasy than the time he'd stumbled into a brothel by mistake during the 40s.

Miss Miller groaned and scowled, starting to huff her way back to the hotel. Even from behind he could tell she was wiping away angry tears, cursing back to the hotel. Of course her exit was terribly rude but some things couldn't be helped.

It as then he noticed the mutt's glare. Alastor met it with lofty smile, twirling his mic.

”I know exactly who and what you are. A despicable, vile creature,” the angel said, voice low and seeping with venom.

“I’m certain my company pales in comparison to that of a literal Saint Gabriel.”

A curved, gleaming blade leveled under his chin, but Alastor didn't fret. " Empty threats won't shake me your Holiness."

“Stay away from Michael.”

“These modern women rarely take to controlling, deceitful patronizers. Why it's all they talk about in this day and age!” Alastor’s head clicked to the side, eyes turning to dials, knowing how men in his day had near indisputable control of women. He’d love to see Gabriel be squashed by his rambunctious bearcat. Perhaps he could sell tickets to such a show!

"You will never be enough." The demonic form fell away revealing an unfortunately agreeable face. A darkness fell over the angel’s features right as he faded into the wind.

———

Mia
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse:134

Mia stewed in her room, trying to calm down before getting ready. She needed to be spectacular to match the dress but she'd spent the last hour bawling and wailing into her bed. Thus her text invitation to Angel who waltzed in with his pig and a hefty cosmetics case.

“I’ve come with the goods toots! Kinda miss gettin’ dolled up with other girls ya know?”

Before she could even get him settled in a spot he stopped dead at the dress box, “Wowza! Momma Mia, where’d you get that?”

“I’m not entirely sure, actually.” Already he was inspecting the dress and then the box.

“How can you not be sure? Ya hot babe, don’t get me wrong but this ain’t just some gift from some John! Especially if this includes the jewels above your tit*. Nope this is uh—”

A strangeness twisted in her stomach as he handed her the lid, eyeing her, “Reckon you and Smiles got close?”

Surely that wasn’t what Angel meant. She’d just seen Alastor and he would have definitely said something snarky about it. “I don’t understand.”

“I mean, coulda been Princess?”

Her head shook. “Charlie can’t keep secrets.”

“Figures since it’s from Rosie’s. Rosie is the Hell-born overlord of Cannibal Colony. She’s been buddy-buddy with Al since he got here. A lotta girls at Val’s can’t afford her sh*t, let alone the custom drip. Even then she’s got months to years long wait lists. Al pulled double overtime on this toots.” The inside of the box lid read ‘Rosie’s Emporium’ in pink.

Mia’s stomach dropped down so far, she’d need to climb in the sewer to find it. Her tight voice squeaked, “What do you think it means?”

“Beats the f*ck outta me! Put it on, I wanna see it! Put. It. On!” He said gleefully, ignoring her Radio Demon inflicted dilemma. Angel stuffed Mia into the gown and pulled her hair into a sloppy version of the bun.

“Damn this is some fancy sh*t!”

“I know! So what does it mean?”

“Maybe he just tryin’ to do ya a solid? I mean, yous did work together on,” Angel turned bashful, turning away, “ya know. He could also be doing this to f*ck with ya head. It's his favorite hobby and ya are his favorite toy.”

“Spider say what?”

“Oh don’t play dumb,” he exasperated. Angel grabbed her shoulders, forcing her into the chair, starting to pull out various cosmetics.

“Al knew you’d look like a mother f*ckin’ bombshell in this or whatever old, lame-ass bullsh*t compliment is the equivalent of that. Could it be somethin' else? Eh maybe, but nah. Husky and I talked about you and Smiles. He thinks there’s something on Al’s end but yous DID NOT hear it from me, got it? I dunno what kinda somethin', but you seem to be into it?”

Her heart rate picked up, leg bouncing. Could Alastor really be into her? And what did that even mean for someone like Alastor?

Was she into it? That seemed entirely not right! Being some kind of toy blood bank that he terrorized? With that awful and handsome smile?

On plenty of occasions she rejected guys who were charming or hot, all because they were mundane or normal or not enough some how. She thought of their mind games and power struggles. f*ck she was even starting to look back fondly on some of their more horrifying bouts. He made her feel strangely precious and she could at least be real with him.

“Oh f*ck Angel.”

His face said it all.

———

Are you at the party? We need to talk. Tonight.

Mia paced in the elevator, waiting for Gabriel’s reply. She hoped he was. She was so sick of this! And after everything he'd said? It raked her down to her core but maybe he was hurt? Maybe there was something happening that she couldn't understand.

And for all the demons in Hell, surely Alastor wasn’t the worst of them. At least, not worse enough to merit a specific warning every single time. There were all Gabriel’s previous excuses but she didn’t believe them anymore.

I’m sorry! I am. You were trying to protect me and I know you think I’m an entitled brat but we need to get past this. Please Gabe.

Was it because of becoming the Prince of Pride?

They’d grown so far apart that asking him anything felt astronomical! And there had to be more lies, or at least hidden truths. She’d been angry about Gemma but she had to get past it. She needed to fix their relationship. Mia refused to die before that. God and punishments and secrets could wait!

No. I’m with Lucifer. Enjoy the party.

The text message all but punched her in the gut. Was this how it was going to be for good? Was this how it had been before?

Why couldn’t she just be Michael?

The elevator dinged open. Mia shoved her feelings down as far as the basem*nt and would deal with it tomorrow whether Gabriel wanted to or not.

The party was well underway by the time she finished unnecessarily checking the kitchen. Razzle and Dazzle were sick of her and used their own magic to teleport her out the door!

Demons drifted around the ballroom entrance, entranced by the transformation inside. Mia gapped as well at the glorious, old Hollywood scene that mixed with Italian romanticism.

“Mia Bella! Venire!” Two elegantly gloves arms dragged her to their familiar gaggle. Charlie and Vaggie stood arm in arm, now waving. Husk drank from a glass, sneakily eyeing her above a snarky grin.

“Nice get up Wings.”

Had Angel …?

Mia wanted to scold the spider demon, knowing that he must have mentioned the dress to Husk.

“Charlie all of this looks beautiful!”

“Yes! Between this and the Halloween party, Al is definitely the hotel decorator. And you look so amazing!” Hugs went around quickly, Mia feeling warm anytime she was reminded of the Radio Demon. And given how he’d designed the entire evening, she couldn’t get her mind off him.

“And where is Alastor?” Hopefully that sounded casual. And thankfully no one noted on it but Vaggie’s singular eye lingered on her just a bit too long.

“He’s making security rounds since we have so many strangers in the building. The wards will keep anyone out of places they shouldn’t be though!”

Mia wondered whose wards they were but she didn’t have time to ask as the music picked up, calling all the couples to the floor. Before they could run off though she grabbed Husk and Angel. “Have you seen Nifty?”

Angel thumbed to the corner where the tiny demoness sat with her brother, both glued to a singular laptop screen, gabbing away. “Yeah she’s drooling over that pretty boy!”

Sneakily she took several photos for later, happy to see Vassago and Nifty getting along and looking impressively normal.

“For f*ck’s sake how does a guy get a drink around here?” Mia yelped, spinning around.

The dismayed, irritated voice belonged to a demon man she’d never seen before. Agitated, Mia's arm jerked to the drink table right next to him. “The drinks are right there, please feel free to help yourself.”

“Figures there wouldn’t be any staff in this dump.”

As he reached for a glass, Mia snatched it from his hand. “We don’t have enough staff to serve guests. And, thank you very much, our staff aren’t slaves. They’re volunteers and this is as much for them as it is for the patrons.”

“You kinda remind me of my ex. Look like her too.” Green fangs flashed as red and aqua eyes squinted with mirth, “Dance with me pretty lady.”

She frowned, skin crawling. Snow ball's chance in Hell! Though it had snowed several feet a week ago. All evening she’d hoped to dance with Alastor first. Maybe only even. Mia dropped the glass as greenish fingers forcibly laced through hers.

The audacity! What was it about Hell that left all these guys thinking they could jerk women around!? Ok, that was a phenomenally stupid question but still! Mia wasn’t scared, not after everything else, finding this jerk laughable. For once the situation felt in her control, not interested in anyone coming to save her. And she didn’t want to cause a scene.

The oddly familiar stranger dragged her into the throng of dancers. Maybe he was merely a piece of sh*t and not someone looking to maim her? He yanked their laced hands into the air, Mia unable to break the demonic grip. His free hand grabbed her other wrist, now swinging them around with no regard for her footing. “You’re actually a terrible dancer! Did you learn from a dying fish?”

Her feet caught on his and now he was virtually dangling her by the arms, causing others to start tripping as well. He looked dumbstruck and offended. “I’ve had the finest teachers in Hell! You should watch who you’re talking to!”

Having enough of this overgrown toddler Mia caught her footing, driving her heel into his shin while leveraging his arm into a hold. With a pathetic yelp he faltered into the floor, drawing more attention.

“SEVIATHAN?!”

Chapter 36: Pinky

Chapter Text

Charlie
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 134

“SEVIATHAN?!”

Of all the demons to show up, why, oh why did it have to be him?!

Charlie stomped over, doing her best to smile. She could already feel the demonic energy rolling off of Vaggie. And why was he on the floor under Auntie?

“You always knew how to get down,” she snickered, but only a little. Vaggie’s small stature towered over the green demon as he got up. In an effort to keep up appearances she forcibly high fived him and smile. “We should catch up in my office! It’s this way!”

Why would he come here? Had her party really gotten around Hell’s social circle? Who was she kidding of course it had! Charlie was mocked by her royal peers at large. The ‘Angel Princess’ they called her. It wasn’t a creative or insulting insult. Sad really and lacking any imagination or ambition!

He probably came on a dare or a bet. Helsa probably put him up to this! Seviathan, while determined, wasn’t as cunning as his twin sister who’d bullied Charlie since they were children. Being only a couple decades apart meant they tormented her. Charlie couldn’t stand being the butt of the joke this time. She was going to put her foot down!

Vaggie shoved Seviathan towards the office couch, making Charlie cringe. Maybe the physical violence was a bit much? She offered a pleading smile to her delightful, beautiful girlfriend who stepped back, working on her breathing.

“Seviathan, why are you here?”

He started off particularly co*cky but Alastor’s arrival from the shadows over his shoulder tamped it down. “Come on Char, you know I love a good party.”

“This isn’t a social party. It’s recruitment into the program,” Vaggie bit. “We shouldn’t be entertaining him. He’s here to cause problems. He’s not even a sinner.”

The heir to the Von Eldritch family lounged across the furniture, crossing his ankles and shrugging. “I got tired of the same old scene. The same old parties with the same old stories. Plus, don’t you miss me yet Star Charm?”

A distinct growling filled the room causing her to whip around. Charlie’s hands landed on Vaggie’s shoulders, pleading. “Vaggie, please, your temper.”

The angelic spear in hand was pointed towards her ambivalent ex, who was actually eyeing her aunt. That wasn’t important though. Every day she was becoming far more worried about Vaggie. In an attempt to siphon off some of the stress they made time together. Time apart. And time for Vaggie to quietly participate in the program. Wasn’t it working?

Anger and rage melted off her face, replaced with pang of shame.

Vaggie straightened up, kissing Charlie on the cheek, “Mia and I can take care of the guests and the party, Querida. Just be sure to come back out and have fun, si?”

Warmth and confidence spread in her chest, giving her the strength and support she need. Charlie pressed her nose to her girlfriend’s, “I’ll be out soon!”

Her aunt squeezed her hand and rubbed her shoulder, winking, “You’ve got this Charlie.”

She hoped she did.

Finally it was her and the two overlords. “And what might you actually be doing here young man, hmm?”

“Did Helsa put you up to it?”

Seviathan rolled his eyes at Alastor, effectively ignoring him otherwise. “Just like everyone else! You don’t believe I can do anything without Helsa do you?”

Of course he could. He had on a few occasions at least. And she wanted to say that but she couldn’t put Seviathan’s feelings above everything else. He’d dumped her. “Vaggie was right, you shouldn’t be here. Please leave.”

“I can play this little hotel game! What’s it cost a night? You’re probably desperate for cash and I can help! Why else is this place so shabby? Dated? No staff serving drinks either.”

“Enough! I’ve had enough. Alastor, could you please escort him out?”

“Why I cannot think of a more delightful thing, Charming Demon Belle.

“HEY! No, no, no! Back off Tin Man! Damnit Char, are you gonna make me say it?”

Her brow furrowed, not understanding. Was he in trouble? “Say what?”

“Ah f*ck. Listen, I— I need somewhere to crash and lay low. You know how things are between me and Dad and no one would bother me here.”

Of course he was hiding. Seviathan had a complex that left him in boiling water with other demons. “What did you do?!”

“Nothing! I’m not some evil dick like Satan or my dad or this Radio Cannibal you have working here! I don’t want to be like them. I don’t want to be like Dad or Helsa or Grandfather. I’m willing to pay for a room.”

“Seviathan, I’m sorry, this isn’t just some hotel. We’re a program. We’re trying to really make a difference in Hell. I take that seriously and I can’t let anyone jeopardize it.”

“What if I work?! Other demons work here. Like that hot girl who sucks at dancing, yeah?”

A scratch was heard through the room causing the younger two to turn eyes on Alastor. “Ah how silly you youths are! To think that all these miserable demons are employees! Just some of them are, isn’t that right Charlotte? Yes indeed!”

Her head tipped at Alastor’s odd, almost out of character response but maybe he didn’t like being lumped in with the rest of the regular employees? Tonight wasn’t the right time to deal with his ego.

“I wouldn’t call what you were doing dancing, especially if you haven’t improved since school,” she teased, grinning a little.

“Come Char, you always loved my two webbed feet,” he winked.

Charlie stepped back, not wanting to get in flirting territory with him ever. Not even close to it! Misunderstood reminiscing would not be the crack in her love life!

“Sev,” she tried to put on her best consoling voice, “You don’t have any skillsets. We have what we need.”

“What if this little party of yours goes well? I’m not asking to make decisions or have input but I can help with branding, reputable staffing, and getting more people in here. And we can scale it as big or small as you’d like! You don’t have anyone here who understands marketing do you? And I can get them decent jobs outside the hotel.”

Her thumbs twiddled. She hated that he was right. Her own attempts had been lack luster at best and Vaggie wasn’t great at bring in people either. And if tonight was a success, how could they run a hotel for 40 or 50 demons who were specifically here for treatment?

“On one condition! You participate in the treatment program.”

“Excuse me? You realize Hellborns can’t go to Heaven, don’t you?”

“I know that! But that doesn’t mean you can’t benefit from it too! Small acts of kindness can change whole communities. What if it changes the royal circles? It has to start somewhere, final offer.”

He groaned, turning away form her. He stared hard at the office door which was thoroughly blocked by Alastor lazing about with his staff, smiling plainly.

“Fine. Deal. Now can we go back to the party?”

“Su—”

“I think not young man! You’ve caused quite a fuss this evening for us already. No, I do suspect you’ll be confined to your new room until the festivities have wrapped up.”

“Alastor, I th—”

His arm wrapped around her shoulders, wildly gesturing to Seviathan. “Why my dear, it is for his own protection! One seeking to lay low must not be out rubbing elbows! What if a fearsome creature learns of his whereabouts and ruins the whole shebang? And for all your hard work? It just won’t do! This pouty playboy will cement his dedication in pious thought! Alone.”

Charlie sighed, nodding. There was a point to it all, in that Alastorian round about way. She did want to go back out to Vaggie and dance and have fun, but with Seviathan in the picture that felt threatened. Tonight was about her dream, and if that include him being locked in a hotel room for a night, so be it!

———

Mia
The Hazbin Hotel - Garden
Next Cleanse: 134

Mia sat down the glass, her third? No. Probably the fourth? Ok, maybe fifth. Who could say?

Well she had done shots with Angel and Nifty …

The tipsiness fizzed across her as she sucked in a breath of cool air. She could hold her liquor pretty damn well given the food she’d been eating, if was a pleasant buzz for a wonderful party! She damn well deserved to enjoy it!

Her fingers ran down the fine fabric of her skirt. She loved it. It was the singular most beautiful thing she’d ever worn.

“Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania.”

Mia whipped around to find Alastor strolling down the back steps. Perhaps he’d come out alone for solace as the once tasteful soiree turned into a lesser kind of party. Though, she couldn’t remember spotting him.

Her hand cascaded dramatically outward! Doing her best to mimic his showy ways.

“What, jealous Oberon? Fairy, skip hence;
I have forsworn his bed and company.”

Alastor stepped forward, kneeling like a knight in one of Nifty’s wild tales.

“Tarry, rash wanton; am not I thy lord?”

Mia’s heart fluttered, unable to regulate amidst his charm.

“Then I must be thy lady.”

Her cheeks burned as he released her hand, standing in his formal glory. The way the tuxedo fit him, his hair fixed to the side, that glinting smile. How his mouth poised on a cigarette.

“And what might you be doing out here all by your lonesome?” Alastor gestured the package outward but her head shook, remembering how poorly it went with Angel. He looked like the dashing antihero, malevolent and charming.

Mia fanned herself, not able to tear away. “It’s boiling in there! I think Angel turned up the thermostat and probably spiked the bowl again!”

“Yes he must have! You’re a good bit zozzled, I’m afraid!”

Despite that enthusiastic giggle the world went quiet. Every other draw of the cigarette she caught him glancing her over with an unfamiliar expression.

“Thank you,” she managed, looking down at her dress.

“And what might you have to thank this humble host for?”

“Really? Humble in what universe? For everything Alastor. Every time I turn around you’re right there, whether I like it or not. And the dress.”

“Ah! So you solved that mystery after all!” Fan fare sounded off around them gently as he pointedly ignored the rest of her comment.

“You were right earlier. I only planned on working tonight so I’m grateful. I’ll make sure everything is cleaned and returned to you.”

Alastor blew out the smoke with an indignant scoff, “What sort of fellow allows a lady to return a gift? No darling, you’d be better off breaking my nose!”

Mia rolled her eyes, remembering how she had actually done that. How many got to take on the Radio Demon and live to tell about it? To live and have him make jokes about it?! Mia knew she was apart of a privileged few, perhaps even the only one. “I’ve heard rumors that where the fearsome and oh so terrible Radio Demon is concerned nothing is free.”

“Yes, I’m afraid that’s true and now isn’t the time to ruin my reputation. Up now ma jolie proie! Come, come!”

“What for?” Instinctively she reared back as he bent forward.

Claws unfurled towards her from Alastor’s bowed form, “Payment. A dance or three, as my evening was stolen by a particularly bothersome pest.”

That did make her sad given how much he loved a party. Surely all the good behavior warranted a dance? Mia almost hesitated, but then her hand fell into his, dipping into a mock curtsey. “On one condition.”

Their hands fell into place, Alastor already leading them farther into the garden. “You are in no position to be making demands Miss Miller!”

“As you remind me time and time again! I’ll pay your fee, devious demon but only if we dance to your favorite song.” She smirked upwards before being spun out. Music with that old time quality sounded around them as she returned to his arms. “This is your favorite song?”

He dipped her threateningly low, “And here I thought you had finer tastes! I’m gutted.”

They fell into the rhythm as she smiled and shook her head. “It’s a phenomenal song! But from you? It’s from the 40s I think?”

With a wink twirled her about, Mia’s back and wings hitting his chest. The timber of his voice radiated down the long point of her ear. “Remember my dear, we all have an image to maintain! And I’ll have you know that the Ink Spots started out at a radio station in the 30s! An old colleague of mine spoke of it some decades ago. Good music does not belong to a single time.”

Mia let the strangeness of it all go, the fizz in her body enjoying their dance far more than she cared to admit.

They certainly went for more than one or three dances but eventually something in the air shifted. They relocated to their previous bench under a swath of silence, Alastor summoning two amber filled low balls. Mia nervously downed her drink, stupidly worried that if she didn’t say something, he would leave. It all felt like a strange fairytale, one she just wasn’t ready to finish.

“You’re a fantastic dancer! My competition partners were awful compared to you! And at your age!”

Oh no, what was she even saying?!

“I mean you don’t look old! And mortal demons don’t age mentally right? So maybe you aren’t old! When did you die?”

———

Alastor
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 134

Alastor leaned onto the stone wall behind him, settling in to watch her madness unravel. Hopefully this would be as entertaining as her generic chaos. “1933! And I’ll have you know I was far from old. Freshly 31 if I recall correctly.”

She patted on his shoulder a bit too roughly for the gesture to be sympathetic. “How sad, but on the bright side at least you died hot!”

Alastor made a guttural choking noise, throat closing on his half sip of whisky. And yet she sat there, staring up at the pentagram as if she’d said nothing at all. “Where’d you learn to dance?”

Thankful for her constant rerouting, he answered immediately, “From my community! Plenty of flappers and hep cats in my day. There were also several immigrants in my neighborhood, so I picked up a step or two from them!”

“What about your waltz?” Her fingers snapped, pointing upward, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.

How had his collar become so tight? “But of course I learned the classics! That is the duty of a distinguished gentleman!”

Suddenly she was inches from his face, her drunk scrutiny making fast work of his nerves. Hot breaths rolled across his skin as she peered straight into him.

“Hrmm,” she grumbled, “Guess that checks out!”

“And you my dear?” He blurted, hoping to divert her.

She moved to stand, but faltered, nearly landing on top of him! An unknown instinct forced his arm out, pulling her swaying form into his side. A certain pop of electric blue surrounded by shadow caught his eye.

Why Miles?! You damnable rascal!

Alastor bristled with Miles’s nonsense, trying to not be so concerned with how her softness molded onto him.

Miss Miller’s head flopped onto his shoulder, body settling in, cementing his mistake. “I did lots of stuff! Anything to stay busy. I needed to be busy all the time. I’m starting to think its an old remnant of my past lives. What’s being an only child like?”

“Peaceful. All the privacy in the world and no one to share Moman with!”

“Pfft, you big momma’s boy!” Her hand smacked into his chest as she rattled with a laugh. Her palm seemed stuck now. If anyone were unfortunate enough to stumble upon them in this compromising position, Alastor would have no choice but to remove their tongue and eyes. He hadn’t realized just how inebriated his prey was and it would be far too rude to abandon her before sobering up.

“Tell me about her,” Miss Miller hummed, too comfortable contorted against him.

And so he did. Alastor became ecstatic to share the memories he’d never gotten to vocalize before. He lauded over everything his mother taught him! Anything a woman was expected to know. Manners, three languages, how to be a better businessman, how to be a better man.

The more he talked, the more she settled down, listening and nodding. Eventually he finished, leaving just the sounds of Hell, the party, and the garden to keep them company. For a while, he thought perhaps she’d drifted off to sleep.

The clock tower screamed midnight in the distance, drawing their eyes to it.

“Alastor?”

That tone was so reserved, especially given the drunken stupor. Her hands fidgeted, mouth twisting with thought. “Yes Miss Miller?”

“I think—” she sucked in a deep breath. There was a vain attempt at bravado, but it failed her all the same. Alastor contributed his silence to her uncertain attempts. She said so many odd things that, if it brought her this much discomfort drunk, he certainly wanted to hear it. It would do him no good to spook an already compromised prey.

She held up a hand, pinky finger stuck out towards him, her expression hardened.

“I liked this life.”

Liked? Had something so suddenly changed?

“With new friends and my family, but they only know different, half baked versions of me. Listen, I don’t care what you think about me, but maybe—”

She spoke in past tense, as if gazing at her inevitable tombstone. Her voice dwindled off into bashful nothingness and Alastor didn’t know what to expect. No matter what she said, he doubted it would unknot this newfound dreading sensation. Losing his favorite toy was not a welcome situation.

“Remember me?”

That’s what it this was about. Alastor hated how well he understood the sentiment. The need to have someone, anyone, know who you truly are.

A crimson pinky wrapped around hers, followed by a soft pop of green.

“It’s a deal then, ma jolie proie.”

Chapter 37: Recipe

Chapter Text

Mia
Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 132

Miss Miller,

I hope this note finds you well on such a particularly Hellish day!

As you’ve undoubtedly noticed I graciously took the liberty to see that those little potions, the ones keeping you fit as a fiddle, are well stocked. I’ve also filled quite a bit of the pantry and ice box! There is a lovely venison roast, one of “suitable” origins I assure you, longing to be made up. The second cupboard also hosts a parcel of spices!

Alas, there is so much work to do for a singular demon that I have the misfortune of missing the usual supper. Perhaps I might be persuaded to share that fine cut if you’d be ever so inclined to prepare it for my return tonight. Your knife skills may need work, but you are a delightful little cook!

Please bring our dinner to my office at 8:30 PM.

Yours truly,

Alastor

Mia knew when she was politely being forced into something. At least Alastor enjoyed her cooking. Of course she wasn’t going to say no. Not that she could have.

The whimsical, giddy sensation of having a crush fluttered through her stomach. Mia’s nerves couldn’t handle it and she raced for her cookbook, grateful for its existence. She’d need some special ingredients but wrangling Charlie into that for dinner would be cake.

Then it all hit her.

Wasn’t this a date?

“Oh f*ck,” she cursed, eyeing herself in the mirror. In an instance her entire appearance seemed lack luster, modern, and underwhelming. Maybe she could find something vintage esque to wear? Or maybe something just simple enough that it wouldn’t look modern? Did she even own a skirt anymore that wasn’t above her knees?!

Just as she started flinging her clothes across the room, trying to decide what to wear and cursing herself all the while, her phone dinged. Then again. And on the third time she finally picked it up.

I needed time to think.

I’m aware of my harsh nature towards you, but things aren’t as they seem Michael. This is all difficult for me. And there isn’t anything I can say about your life, as I’ve explained before. But perhaps I can tell you about my life and our family.

So yes, I would like to speak and work through this.

Tears burned in her eyes, smiling like an idiot. Finally they could work through it!

With all the hope and excitement of today, Mia abandoned her quest for a perfect outfit, deciding that keeping it simple would be good enough.

———

Oh no.

Oh f*ck.

He hated it?!

The recipe called for a sizable amount of molasses and she’d not even considered it might be too sweet for him!

If only she could disappear into the shadows! Her hand shot over to grab his plate. “I’ll take it to the kitchen and find something else. I—”

Crimson claws wrapped around her wrist, trapping her. The familiar prick of static started rolling through the air. The pit of dread twisted into a consuming sense of horror. One she thought she’d overcome weeks ago.

His eyes hadn’t distorted yet but they glowed bloody, his smile wide and tight.

“Miss Miller,” his hissed out, pulling her arm in closer, “Where did you get this recipe?”

Her brain shorted.

“Where?!” He growled.

“A book!” Mia jerked but it was futile. Elongating claws bit into her skin as he waited for a better answer. “I have a recipe book!”

“Show me.”

“What?”

He snapped, transporting them to her door. It flung open as Alastor dragged her through unceremoniously. “Get it now.”

Finally he let go and Mia mad dashed for the bedroom, nearly toppling over the couch. She didn’t take the time to pull herself together. It didn’t cross her mind to tempt his wrath this time. But at the door frame she wavered, thinking about the key on her neck. She could run to Lucifer.

But then what?

He stalked back and forth, hands wringing. Pacing, almost nervously? What could make him so unsettled? Running seemed the wrong decision, counter to common sense. Mia inched out of the doorway, substituting the book for armor, pressing it tight into her chest. Curiosity and the feeble trust that he wouldn’t maul her won out.

His gaze was predatory. At least, it was until he whipped around causing her to flinch backwards. Alastor eyed her carefully, releasing a long breath, straightening his jacket lapels. For once he didn’t smile, but the expression seemed soft, even bashful. Mia fixated on the look, finding it to oddly adorable.

“I— ahh,” Alastor cleared his throat, posture wavering, “I should not have been so domineering. My mother would take a switch to me for my treatment of you and leave soap in my mouth. I am sorry.”

What … ?

Stupefied.

That was the only word able to characterize how her jaw hung slack, lungs seizing. The image of a pouting, round-faced, Nifty-sized Radio Demon being forced to sit with soap in his mouth brought her respiratory system back to life. Mia stifled a laugh only to be caught off guard by his latest expression.

Apparently he wasn’t interested in her imagination. Alastor looked ghostly, eyes glued to the book in her hands.

He stepped over slowly, reaching out for it, as if the book itself might bite him. Mia, unsure of what else to do, handed it to him.

His fingers brushed along the cover. Over the spine and along the worn edges. Movements so gentle, almost like it would evaporate if he rushed. She didn’t know those claws could be so delicate with anything.

They were suddenly back in his office, Alastor sitting at his desk, pouring over it page by page.

She watched, mesmerized by this odd version of the Radio Demon. Alastor looked impossibly human.

“Where did you get this?”

His words sounded worlds away.

“When I arrived in Hell, Lucifer gave me some things. Belongings from different lifetimes. Stationary and pens. An older flower crown. That book. I mean, I don’t know when I had that book or where, originally. But he told me they were mine.”

“This is my book.” Possessiveness radiated through every syllable. “My mother’s book.”

The 1920s. What did she remember from the 1920s? Her most recent lives were the easiest to remember given how they had nothing to do with being an angel. But before that was patchy on a good day! Mia focused, swaying on her feet.

Cold sweat beaded on her neck. Then came the nausea and vertigo. Mia raced for the window, needing air now. As she wrenched it open, a hard wind whipped in her face.

It was windy. It had been that day… and there was that porch, the one with the woman sewing. She had on an apron, laughing and talking.

Then it was gone, just like the air in her lungs. Mia slumped into the floor, heaving. Alastor materialized next to her, handkerchief in one hand, cookbook clutched firmly in the other. “There was a yellow house. And a porch. It had a little sign in the garden? And the woman … she said vin— Vyin endan Cher.”

A spike drove through her skull again, leaving her with a miserable pain. But she had it. She had the woman’s name.

“Claire. Her name was Claire.”

Alastor carefully pulled her to her feet, guiding her wobbly form to a chair.

With her vision no longer a painful blur, Mia now faced the same woman, only as a sepia photo in a gilded frame. She picked it up, staring in disbelief as vague inklings of memory, ones she couldn’t quite reach, flitted about her head.

“You mean to say you knew this woman?” Alastor asked, kneeling to meet her gaze.

“This is Claire.”

“This is my mother.”

Alastor opened the book, pointing to words in the margins. “These are my notes.”

And now that she knew it was his hand writing, it seemed so glaringly obvious. How had she not noticed?

The world started turning again though. “I don’t understand. Why would Luci give me your book?”

Alastor tucked it under his arm, angling it away, as though she may take it.

“We dance round in a ring and suppose, but the secret sits in the middle and knows,” he quoted, escorting her back to their cooled dinner. With a snap it was piping hot once more.

“I didn’t take you for a poet.” Mia said, nervously handling a fork, unsure exactly what to think. It felt too strange to just return to dinner.

“Robert Frost was quite renowned in—” Alastor paused, eyeing her carefully whilst taking a drink, “our time.”

It sounded more like a question. Her being alive throughout different time periods wasn’t exactly the part he struggled with. It was how apparently they’d been alive well within the same few square feet.

“What does ‘Vyin endan Cher’ mean? It’s French?” The words didn’t roll off her tongue this time, as it had right off the back of the memory.

Alastor looked concerned, only answering once he’d finished chewing. “It is my mother tongue, the Louisiana Creole language. Moman was telling you to come inside my home.”

Why in the absolute f*ck was she ever at Alastor’s home? “But you didn’t know me. Right?”

A chill crept up her spine, anticipating more lies. With the shake of his head, her nerves eased back as much as they could given this bizarre scenario. “Indeed, I do not. Though perhaps you were older? Or a child at the time?”

Mia shook her head. “I don’t think so. At least, I know I wasn’t older than mid twenties. This is the closest I’ve ever gotten to 30. I guess I could have been a teenager? The childhood memories are always pretty obvious just because everything looks taller. I had to be at least full grown here.”

“Then we are at a loss. We’d be fools not to probe this further Miss Miller.”

She fidgeted, not keen on that idea. “Maybe we can save the interrogation aspects of what the f*ck is happening for a later time? I’d just like to eat and not have any more splitting, rapid onset migraines.”

Alastor nodded in agreement. “Yes, I do believe we’ve had enough excitement for one evening. Though …”

Red eyes looked at her. Then away. Then back again. As if he was uncertain. ”It seems I am begrudgingly indebted to you all over again Miss Miller.”

“Excuse me?”

“That cookbook is all I inherited from Moman. That yellow house you seem to recall, and all its contents, were purchased by yours truly after years of saving.”

Now that was a bombshell. Not only did she know his mother, but somehow Lucifer decided that Alastor’s singular most prized possession was hers? A boulder sat deep within her stomach, surely not to dislodge for quite sometime.

Maybe there’d been a mistake? A mix up at some junction!

At least now she could understand how he’d gotten so worked up before. “Thanks, by the way.”

“Oh?”

“For apologizing.”

Alastor choked and sputtered, fist thudding on his chest. The briefest moment of wide eyed embarrassment set in before he focused back on his plate. Mia’s jaw burned from trying not to smile at his uncharacteristic, hoping she could at least remember the sight later on.

“Ah, well yes! As I said, Moman would be utterly displeased!”

His mother seemed to be the great unifier tonight.

Mia smiled in earnest this time, leaning forward in an effort to catch his gaze. “Care to conjure up a couple glasses of champagne?”

He gave her an inquisitive grin, “Feeling the need to unwind, ma jolie proie?”

Ha. After everything, discovering all these maddening questions that she had zero answers for, yes.

“That isn’t what I had in mind,” she fibbed, raising the conjured glass towards him, “To Claire.”

If anyone ever asked Mia to predict how Alastor would act on a given day, she’d laugh at them. His reaction now proved her exact point.

Alastor’s eyes went wide, as if he hadn’t quite understood what she’d meant. And for a moment longer than she expected, he didn’t put back on his showman’s mask. But then he grabbed his glass, beaming suddenly, too enthusiastically clinking his glass to hers. She could see the distinct resemblance to his mother. Bright, sharp eyes. A wide, kind smile. Kind for moment, at least.

Alastor must have been devilishly handsome while alive. There’s no way she could have forgotten him, so dramatic and attractive, cosmic magic or not … right?

“But of course! What a marvelous suggestion! To Moman! And to a fantastic meal that would have her proud!”

Chapter 38: Axe

Chapter Text

Charlie had finished several human books that Mia recommended, the most recent heavily featuring camping. Her niece had no idea what it was even! She’d never considered sleeping outdoors in Hell as it seemed ill-advised. Mia went once during the 70s but that was it.

She’d seriously overestimated her abilities. Maybe she was taking this too seriously?

“Why you seem terribly stumped!”

Mia screeched, flinging the axe around on reflex. Alastor caught the axe with a chuckle and mocking grin. “I’ll have to axe you not swing at me! Now tell me what it is you’re trying to accomplish?”

“Charlie wants to try camping,” she huffed, letting him take it.

After taking stock of their surroundings, he grimaced and shook his head. “In the garden? Hardly a place for such an activity! Camping ought put one out into the wilderness!”

“I’m kind of limited on resources don’t you think? There’s not exactly a forest I could take her to that would end well for me.”

Shades danced upward, mimicking beasts and trees. “The forest in Pride, while spectacular, is thrice as fearsome as the city. As they say the show must go on! We’ll simply make do.”

Oh no, now it was a we activity? While she did enjoy his company, giddy anytime he came around actually, having Alastor there to derail her night with Charlie and Vaggie was less than ideal. Especially since she couldn’t reel in how he distracted her.

As of late a couple demons started to notice, eyeing and snickering. Angel Dust and Husker in particular. They held off on mocking her outright though, probably trying to evade Alastor’s temper.

Suddenly the axe was shoved her way, Alastor now peeling off his jacket. His being there was only her first problem of several to follow.

The way he slipped off the jacket was her second. Those slender shoulders curled back, letting the red garment slip past the stark divot of his neck. Then it dropped down his arms inspiring a devilish heat in her. Obviously he was thin, but with the jacket gone she could make out each line of his body. It was far from the first time she’d seen him without the jacket but she’d never inspected him so thoroughly either. He reminded her of a leopard: strong, lithe, and deadly.

Long slim hands made artful work of undoing his cuff buttons before neatly rolling up the sleeves. With every fold she could see more of the darkened, scarred forearms before fading to the color of his face. And the third conundrum? This inconspicuous exhibitionism left her craving to run her hands over him. Her brain seared in the memory.

He reached out but Mia only stared, too dumbstruck to understand. Alastor leaned in squinting, “The axe, Miss Miller?”

Numbly she handed it over, devoting every ounce of energy to maintaining a neutral expression.

“Now watch closely.” Alastor snapped, her botched pieces coming back together neatly. Then he arranged one long ways and another perpendicular to it, one end stacked on top, forming a ’T’ shape. “When you don’t have something to split down onto it becomes impossibly harder.”

It all finally dawned on Mia. Alastor was here teaching her and not magically rectifying the situation as per usual. He was taking the time and care to make sure she understood.

Joy bubbled through her chest as she nodded emphatically. Her cheeks ached from trying not to smile.

His legs spread wide as he eyed her, twisting to show the axe. “Your hands start in these positions, and when you swing, the upper slides to the back.”

God help her, she wanted his hands to slide to her back.

When he swung, the sound of lightning cracked. Not only had he split through the top piece but he also halved the bottom steadying log, driving the blade into the ground up to the shaft. “Ha! Still got it! Not too shabby for 90 years if I do say so myself! Come now, it’s your turn little doe.”

Alastor grinned, beckoning her over with a finger as his other hand twirled the axe.

This wasn’t fair! Genuinely she wanted to learn and pay attention but he was fiercely handsome. And she was stupidly turned on.

Her mouth opened in silent anxiety but she stepped forward. Failure wasn’t an option and she desperately wanted to please him. Earn his praise.

Alastor towered behind, arm reaching around her frame, holding the axe with one hand. “Grip the base firmly. Not so much at the top. You want your hand to slide down the shaft.”

Fire filled her cheeks as needles pricked down her spine. Damn him. Damn his inability to comprehend exactly what he was saying to her! Mia took as steady a breath as she could manage, which was actually pretty sad. Her hands gripped where instructed, brain deviously noting what other base she wouldn’t mind gripping.

Where was a rain storm when she needed one?! Getting off to him sincerely trying to help her would only lead to madness. But f*ck he was beautiful!

“Now no need to be shy! I’ve seen you in far more dire straights. This ought be a stroll!” He wasn’t wrong. She refused to disappoint him. She mimicked his movement, bringing the tool down as hard as she could. It split halfway through the top log. Immediately clapping and fanfare sounded around her.

“But I didn’t even split it,” she pouted. Alastor took the axe back, pulling it from the wood.

“No, perhaps not but Hell’s trees are far stronger than up top! I suspect you’d have no trouble splitting an oak log by hand! Quite impressive little lady!” Alastor’s claw came down booping her nose.

Mia glowed. He’d complimented her! Praised her without any of the snark or sass or suffering! Before she could try again, Alastor picked up the log and finished the job by ripping it in half with a sinister, satisfied grin.

The coil in her stomach tightened, heat rising. Mia decided to blame evolutionary biology for her current affliction.

“Can I try again?” She asked meekly. Alastor placed another log down and Mia squared up. Before she could swing, his arms caught hers in the air.

“Fé tensyon!” An odd panic rose in his voice before he released a long breath and loosened his grip.

“Now see here,” he demanded. Alastor’s leg brushed the inside of hers, pushing outward, spreading her wide.

Was it possible for her to spontaneously combust in Hell?

“That, bearcat, is how you lose a leg! I’ve known plenty a fool to cut himself off at the knee for not doing this properly.” Mia gulped, grateful for his care but still daft where her ability to speak was concerned.

When he finally backed away it felt like ice, leaving her sinking on the inside. Then she swung, putting her new displeasure into it. This time the axe went all the way through, catching into the bottom log.

“Alastor look! I did it!”

“Now that’s a swing and a home run! Right there with Babe Ruth! Well done, Miss Miller!”

A clawed hand came down on her hair, jostling it around as he laughed. Mia beamed, head tipping up to meet his hand. This time she couldn’t stop the smile splitting across her face. Greed filled her, craving any attention she could get. “I owe my accomplishments to a skilled teacher. That’s all.”

Their eyes met and Hell nearly fell away for her. That is until Alastor cleared his throat, hand retreating. In a snap his jacket returned and all the wood became perfectly split. Utter disappointment swelled in her gut following the magic.

“Give Charlotte and Vagatha my regards on your little adventure!”

Then he was gone leaving her liquefied.

———

Alastor
Hotel Gardens
Next Cleanse: 130

Alastor hid in the shadows, sipping a hot coffee. Tonight he’d persuaded Husker to take over patrolling the hotel’s interior.

After all the other late night fiascos concerning Miss Miller’s existence, keeping an eye on their little garden party seemed necessary. Already he’d sneakily dissuaded Angel’s attempt of a practical joke by turning that pet pig loose. Thankfully the rest was uneventful.

The ladies did nothing spectacular and seemed to enjoy themselves. It was all disgustingly wholesome. Eventually the younger two scurried into a tent, bundling up and listening to Miss Miller read.

All in all even he was enjoying it, getting a delightful kick out of remembering some of their earlier spats.

With Charlotte and Vagatha finally asleep, Miss Miller leaned back, gazing into Hell’s unfamiliar stars. Alastor was just about to pick up his own book, but it was all woefully interrupted by an unwelcome mutt. To intrude on gaggle of hens alone at night! Of course he’d been watching over them for safe keeping but what did the angel want?

“Mia,” called the mutt.

She popped up confused and spared a glance to the sleeping girls before rushing to his side. “Gabe, is everything ok? I thought we’d talk in the morning? Did something happen?”

If Alastor’s eyes could roll any harder they’d rip from his skull. Surely there wasn’t anything wrong because when did that flea ridden monger consult her on anything? How could she hold on to such feeble, misplaced hope?

“No, everything is fine. I hoped we could speak now.”

And as per usual, his bearcat bent over backwards to accommodate her brother. Disgusting.

They meandered off to behind the shed, which was bad enough! What would anyone seeing this think? The impropriety of it! This fellow was certainly no gentleman! Alastor situated himself into the shadows right beside them, casting a barrier around the tent as to not wake the girls. Experience taught him that these two got heated quickly.

The demonic facade dropped and blond man smiled, pushing his hair back. This time he wore glasses and an ensemble that looked a tad too fitted. It reminded Alastor of the way certain chaps dressed themselves in hopes of attracting women by emphasizing their physique. Perhaps this was simply a standard form of dress for the archangel?

“Everything is going well, actually. It’s safe now.”

Her head shook, arms crossing tight. “Safe? As in it’s over? The Pagans are gone?”

“In a sense, yes. It took too long and I’m sorry for that but we’ve secured the mortal realm. You can go home Michael.”

Her eyes bulged, hands rising to muffle her shocked sound. The mutt’s hands came forward, landing on her shoulders. Alastor nearly snarled.

“I’ve worked it out with Vassago and he’s smoothed everything over with the university. You can defend your thesis whenever you’re ready.”

Oh did he truly think himself so clever? Alastor could spy a manipulative scheme from miles away! To lure her away from here with such a promise, preying on her insecurities. He’d skin anyone trying to encroach on his territory.

“I don’t understand. Is it actually over? You caught them?”

“No, but between Vassago and I you’ll be able to go back. With us both you’ll live a long, normal life.”

Miss Miller looked confused, hands wringing and mouth twisting. Silence hung fat and heavy in the air.

Alastor went rigid. Surely she wasn’t considering this ploy? Would she truly steal off into the night?

The moment her head started to shake, Alastor felt his lungs expand once more. “I can’t go back. I can’t pretend this never happened.”

“But this is everything you’ve worked for.”

“What about everything I’ve worked for here?”

The man blew out a hard breath, fists squeezing. “This is about him, isn’t it?”

“About who? Luci?”

“No, Michael, not Lucifer. That heinous, despicable sinner I keep finding you with!”

Her head jerked to the side with her mouth laughably agape. She pushed off one of Gabriel’s hands.

“Alastor? That’s what you think this is about? The entire time I’ve been in Hell you’ve had this single minded obsession about keeping me away from him. Is it because I knew his mother? Did I know him? There has to be more!”

Gabriel swallowed, eyes going wide, “You remember that?”

“So it’s true! I remember his mother, Claire, and being at their home. You and Luci could have done something to warn me! You can’t tell me the truth, angelic law and all that, fine! But you kept lying to me too! I had to threaten to kill myself for your to tell me about Gemma! Why is it that I can trust a murderous cannibal more than I can you? Yes, he can be spectacularly awful, but he’s not once lied to me.”

Alastor smirked, loving it when people took stock of his hard work. Quite kind of her to pay such close attention!

“You must be joking. How much time do you spend with the Radio Demon?“

“Are you … Gabriel are you jealous?”

Alastor wanted to cackle and howl. Oh that aghast expression! The mutt looked as if he’d been been struck!

But then something sinister and foreign formed across the man’s face. “You say I’ve lied to you? What about all the lies you feed Charlotte? Where you go along day in and day out, pretending that she can make a difference. You parade around here as if you were still holy. Lying to her that you’re here to oversee her progress. I’ve told you this entire farce isn’t possible. Yet you refuse to listen all so you can play pretend. A serial killer knows about your life but the niece you claim to love so dearly is kept in the dark?”

Even Alastor considered that harsh. True, yet entirely savage. In a way, he found himself impressed that the archangel had such venomous disposition. And it seemed he had more to say still.

“You cannot help them. You cannot save them. They are sinners. Come off your high horse for a moment will you? You are human. The longer you keep this up, the more you will hurt her once she learns the truth. That you lied for your own protection.”

Miss Miller stood shock still, staring at the ground, fists balled onto the hem of her shirt. A drop of blood slipped from her hand to the grass.

“I’m taking you home.” Horror filled Alastor suddenly.

Gabriel’s hand landed on her cheek and Alastor nearly cut it off. He was furious, barely hanging on to the shadows that hid him. And he almost came out but Alastor knew that look in her eye. He understood the way her shoulders rolled back. She wasn’t the sort of damsel to have her moment stolen.

A resounding smack rang around them. Her hand hung in the air. Gold streaks appeared on his cheek, cuts from her claws, mixing with the red smear of her own blood.

“I won’t be toyed with and I won’t be controlled. Alastor I know you’re there.”

Ah, so he had been spotted. He stepped out from the shadow, straightening his lapels, grinning wildly. To think this would become an interactive show!

“And what might I do for you, ma jolie proie?” The mongrel’s eyes snapped to him, glowing a furious blue with understanding. Apparently the dog spoke French.

“Show him Angel’s contract.”

Papers materialized and Gabriel snatched them from the air. Again and again he scanned the papers, face twisting more each time. “Michael what have you done?”

“I made a difference. I don’t care if them making it to Heaven is possible or not because they still have lives! And I am not Charlie’s parent. Lucifer is the one who needs to tell her the truth. But I believe in her and this. You say Jophiel sees to who makes it to Heaven and why? Well why the f*ck is she so bad at her job? Sometimes the ends justify the means.”

The man’s face fell into wallowing sneer, shaking his head. Gabriel reached out but she stepped back. Alastor stepped forward however, fangs bared in his smile and static clinging to the air. Miss Miller was a hair behind him now, just enough so the mutt couldn’t steal away his prey.

Blue eyes bounced between them, nearly in a panic now. “Michael I have only ever wanted what was best for you. Please let us leave this place and we can work through this. I need you to be safe!”

Alastor gave him a peculiar look. All the desperation was oddly familiar. Then it fell into place and left Alastor deeply perturbed. The Saint Gabriel was obsessed with, in love with, his own sister.

For all that his little bearcat could see, she was particularly blind to this fact. Then again she lacked perception where trust was concerned.

“I’m staying. I’ll live out what I have left in Hell, doing my damnedest to make a difference. I seriously tried Gabe, but I’m done being told what to do. If our relationship matters enough, you know where to find me.”

She didn’t wait for a response, turning, leaving the archangel behind the shed.

Alastor tutted mockingly, “What a shame! Heart wrenching drama fit for a stage! I tried to warn you, Saint Gabriel. A strong willed firebrand, isn’t she? Well, best of luck to you!”

“Alastor,” the archangel hissed out, sounding far less angelic and more like he might spit venom. Gabriel walked forward, lip curled into a snarl, and jerked on the red lapel. Wind picked up around them, angelic magic highlighting the hatred in the archangel's eyes and Alastor could feel a strange heat. It wasn’t against his skin. No, the feeling scraped against his soul. “If anything happens to her, I’m coming for you.”

Static and sigils filled the air as his eyes turned to radio dials. “Oh, I do hope you’ll try. It’s been some time since I’ve slaughtered an angel.”

Something snapped loose in the angel's face. They ripped apart, magical power colliding between them. “Compared to me you’re but a thorn. I’ll be back.”

And like before, Gabriel disappeared.

“What a reprehensible creature,” Alastor muttered, straightening out his jacket. Were all angels emotionally off-kilter?

Rounding the shed he found Miss Miller crouched against the wall, face cradled in her hands. Thankfully, he didn’t hear any sobs, but the way her fists clutched against her skull left him uncertain.

Perhaps he should leave?

Something about that left him all the more uncertain! He’d just have to deal with it! Straight through! She was his prey and it would be a terrible shame if he allowed someone else to break her.

Alastor knelt down, poking his head around to the front, “Now now, wallowing won’t get us anywhere! There’s not a luxury up top you can’t find in Hell!”

Her fists released before rubbing across her face. Miss Miller unceremoniously fell back against the shed. “You heard everything right?”

Alastor nodded, slipping down to sit next to her. “You’ll have to excuse my eavesdropping but leaving three young women out alone at night isn’t in me.”

“I don’t even care about that. Gabe would have whisked me back to Boston if not for you. Consider the cookbook debt paid.”

Alastor only smiled, not liking the way his stomach lurched. He’d not tell her she was wrong but could he truly have stopped one of Heaven’s elite?

Today he was genuinely grateful for her brazenness. How many beings were more powerful than him in Pride? He could rival a weaker Goetia or two, but not a seraphim. Alastor made a habit of avoiding the demons that made him look weak. He couldn’t stomach it.

“I’m certain we’ll find ourselves in another conundrum soon enough. You do attract quite a bit of trouble.”

A fresh, sardonic grin on her face gave him some relief. “I really do. You don’t have to do this you know? Sit here in my little pity party.”

“Hah! How little you know of me! Why, if I’m not enjoying a party you can certainly find me reveling in the pity of others! And to experience that of an angel’s? I’d not abandon such a rare opportunity!”

She made a rather unbecoming sound, something between a whine and chortle before launching her fist into his arm. “You are such an asshole.”

Feigning pain, he rubbed the spot, “Why Miss Miller, such a brute to assault an old man!”

Her eyes rolled but she smiled, “I’m older than you by at least a few thousand years allegedly.”

Certainly more than a few thousand years, though he wasn’t sure how old angels were. Alastor snapped, summoning their regular coffee preferences, “Do you feel your age Miss Miller?”

She was looking at him now, mouth poised to answer but something seemed to catch her gaze. Alastor’s hand followed her gaze, settling just above his brow. He felt the scar under his bangs, realizing his death mark was partially visible from her being directly beneath him. “I suppose you know what this means?”

Miss Miller’s head whipped in the opposite direction, then she nodded, “I didn’t mean to stare at it.”

Demons weren’t typically bothered by their death marks, given they were so common. But Alastor was. It helped to maintain his image, to hide the evidence of his failure.

“I went out with one hell of a bang as they say.”

Those foggy eyes glanced over, giving his words heavy consideration. Why didn’t she laugh?

“I remember dying a few times. None of them were peaceful experiences. I think that’s part of my punishment from God for whatever I did.” Internally, he grimaced. His death was spectacularly mortifying. No part of him was keen to relive the experience, especially for eternity. Then again, didn’t that technically happen anytime these damned sinners suffered anything that should kill them?

Damn her for making him feel so tangled inside. For once he didn’t have a single thing to say. They were both damned souls sitting on the ground waiting for eternity.

Chapter 39: Pulse

Chapter Text

Alastor
Pentagram City
Next Cleanse: 128

Alastor felt a pull.

When something was truly wrong with Husker or Nifty, as result of their souls belonging to him, a small shade that clung to them would alert him immediately.

It was Nifty. Rage and fear, icy primordial fear, speared through his chest.

Through the darkness he saw Nifty grappled in one massive, gruesome fist. The ugly creature delighted in her distress, jaws wide and salivating. Pitted fangs went to snap on her head. Alastor ripped through its arm, securing the small demoness in his still materializing limbs. A shock of white moved in his peripheral view.

This time he stopped, not wanting to put Nifty down for any reason. As the scene unfolded, it seemed he wouldn’t need to.

Alastor recognized the flash as Miss Miller, maneuvering expertly. One swinging motion cleared the monster of its head. The situation was over as soon as he’d arrived.

Whilst eyeing the demon, a notion struck him. This was a permanent execution and he found it breathtaking. Marvelous!

Despite her demonic appearance, he could almost see an angel now. The protector passing judgment and punishment, untethering wickedness from existence! Usually there came an unsettled feeling whenever he considered her origins. But now he appreciated her status, or at least what it used to be.

Miss Miller huffed solemnly though. Despite that self assured posture, the literal, definitive murder of a soul didn't seem lost on her.

Alastor pressed a hand into her shoulder, flashing a distinctively proud smile. Relief never sparked across her face though, causing his own enthusiasm to waver.

Before he could do anything else, her eyes shifted to the small demoness clinging to him, “Nifty, are you ok?”

Then came Miss Miller’s turn to be suffocated.

“N-Niftyyyy! Nifty! I ne-eed air!” She wheezed, patting the girl’s back gently, but with increasing urgency.

Nifty relented only slightly, still koala’ed onto the woman. The girl started rambling on about Alastor always being so cool and how disappointing it was not to see him maim the assailant. The taller two shared a look, an unspoken decision to leave Miss Miller’s battle prowess a secret.

Finally Nifty hopped to the ground and took one of their hands into each of hers. Happily and safely situated in the middle, chattering away delightedly. Neither disputed it and Alastor let the shadows take the three of them back to his home.

Alastor grinned at her silent reaction, entirely satisfied. Miss Miller stood in awe of the gorgeous scenery. It was nearly impossible to shut her up and he’d done it.

With backbreaking amounts of magic, he’d built and sculpted every square inch of this little section of Hell. The two story home may as well have been ripped right from the human world. Wide porches on the top and bottom, drenched with class and style that was unmistakably New Orleans. For his upbringing and neighborhood, it was nearly a castle despite being a frightfully average sized family home by modern standards.

Nifty rushed in first with a high pitched, “Do not let her in until it is clean!” Then the front door slammed shut, rattling the windows.

Meanwhile, his guest gently touched on a hanging willow, green despite the rest of Hell’s foliage. “How did you get so many of them green?”

He snickered at her wonderment and went to stand maybe a bit too close at her side. He was looking down at her for so long that it surprised him when she looked up. Alastor smiled with more kindness than she was used. More than he was used to.

“Everything you’ll find here is my mother’s favorite. It took quite a bit of effort to have everything imported. It is fortunate that you were with Nifty. If I’d been any slower … ”

“You would have gotten there in time. If anyone is always on que, it’s you. One mistake on my end might have ended us both. I didn’t have another choice but to pull out my glaive. Gabriel would wring my neck.”

“Do you always think about that overbearing mutt?”

Her face twisted with uncertainty. “I think about a lot of things actually.”

"Penny for your thoughts, my dear?"

"You'll probably get change back."

He laughed but she never joined in. Alastor offered her his arm and she hesitated. “I do believe at this junction we are what people call friends, no?”

Miss Miller snickered and rolled her eyes, but finally her glumness broke into a smile and her arm slipped into his. “Who would have ever thought, me? Friends with the Radio Demon. Man do I know how to pick them.”

“Indeed you do! Friends and family with some of the finest beings in existence! What tastes!” He watched her grin fall again, unsure of what could have saddened her so quickly. “What is it? I do believe you and I are far beyond secrets.”

Her defeatist countenance held firm. “Yeah. It’s just, oh I don't know anymore! Everything is overwhelming all them time and I don't know how to feel. I can't even, or maybe I ... f*ck! Nope. No! We aren’t talking about me anymore! I’m sick of wallowing! Tell me about you. Anything! You’re so close with Nifty. Are you related?”

Her determination to change the subject seemed absolute and for the first time in decades he wasn’t abhorred to share some personal information. “But of course not! Nifty is oriental-”

She stopped him, “She’s Japanese and I’m pretty sure no one uses that word anymore.”

Alastor didn’t bother negating her, understanding how references to people changed with time, though he knew it mattered not in Hell. “Japanese. She died somewhere in the 50s due to a lovers spat at 19. She’s lived with me since the 60s.”

He gave her a light overview of how he found Nifty working in several restaurants trying to make ends meet, nearly rabid and constantly afraid. “She never took a shining to me in that regard. Her affections and obsessions for others turn into an issue every few years but nothing unmanageable. To think in all of Hell she’s still too much for some fellows. I strung the last fellow up from that tree.”

Her face didn’t look as disgusted as he’d expected though it took a minute for her to form words. Alastor didn’t know what kind of response to expect.

“You raised her. You’re essentially her father.”

That wasn’t what he expected. “I believe you’re frightfully mistaken.”

“No I’m not. She's been with you longer than she's ever been dead or alive. You're her most successful relationship.”

“It seems I’ve managed it again,” Alastor huffed, thinking of Nifty and Akram.

Miss Miller stopped at the edge of a small pond, strung through with flowerless lily pads, willow trees, reeds, and any other bayou plant. With every plant she nodded, drinking in the hours he labored.

“I’m glad Nifty has you. You don't know how to give up it seems."

That sincerity was almost a weapon, they way she used it to cut through him! Involuntarily his chest puffed up a bit. Anyone could call him a conniving, evil monster but no one could ever call him a quitter.

“Do you have any biological children?” She probed, eyes finding the dirt a smidge too fascinating. Nosy girl.

“No. I always found myself preoccupied with other activities. To live so many lives, surely you’ve had a child or two?” It genuinely surprised him as she shook her head.

“Not a one for all of existence I think. Charlie is my only niece I think and I never had human children. Actually, I can’t.”

“Ah. Why festering brats aren't all these dames make them out to be anyhow!” He knew this to be a sore topic for ladies of any decade.

“It bothered me when I was younger, but now it makes sense. At least I can sleep easy knowing I’ve not abandoned a ton of kids.”

He wanted to rip his eyes away from her but a stuck feeling crept through his veins. A crave similar to hunting, similar to egging on the screams of his prey yet painfully different because he could not look away. It was wretched, this uncontrollable spiraling sensation that kept slinging him back to her orbit!

A harsh gale swept through. Before Alastor realized it, he tucked himself right between Miss Miller and the wind. His hands caught her shoulders, pulling her to the point she squished into him.

It was certainly the gentlemanly thing to do considering her frail, human nature. When she squirmed he nearly scowled, but she wasn't trying to fight him on this apparently. Her arms came up between them before settling flat to his chest.

He got what he wanted it seemed. Miss Miller’s head tipped up with a grateful, shy smile. It was slightly lopsided due to a fang snagging on her lower lip. The flesh there was much darker than the rest of her skin, full and soft. Alastor turned so childishly curious. Were her prominent canines as sharp as his vicious fangs? What kind of sound would she make if he bit into her here?

Would she flee?

Another thought tantalized him, the idea of her turning feral on him. Scraping and clawing, subjecting them both to bleed and be bled.

With her head craned he could see the soft swath of skin, and he knew all too well how delectable the blood in her veins was. The wind picked up, dragging her hair into that cloying spot.

How dare it mock him, creating another barrier to what could easily be his. Impatiently he pushed away the offensive distraction, letting his fingers press into the spot.

Was it her skin that burned or was it his? Under that magnificent heat was the dull siren thud of her pulse, quick and heavy on his finger tips.

The foreign feeling amplified, enticing a deep growl in his chest. Their trance snapped. As if it were a bomb, they jerked away, now confused and embarrassed.

“I’ve been gone for a while and I need to get back for dinner.”

“Yes of course! Ravenous mouths would be terrible for business. Enjoy your evening, dearest.” Before she could respond, he sent her off with a shadow. Specifically Miles, as a precaution.

Alastor’s heart raced and he couldn’t fathom why. Surely he was just hungry and being so close to fresh human meat must have turned him starved. He stomped into his home where Nifty was still buzzing about with a pile of laundry much taller than she was.

“No Al! I said not until-”

“Miss Miller returned to the hotel. She has her own duties to attend Nifty.” Nifty pouted but nodded, taking the laundry away with a slightly more sullen attitude. Alastor went down to the cellar built below the basem*nt for some activities that were sure to clear his mind.

Chapter 40: Garden

Chapter Text

Mia
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 125

“You guys ready?” Husker and Nifty were in the garden with Mia, flowers and colors of all shapes and sizes assorted into boxes and wheelbarrows.

Memories from the 20s ripped through her dreams now, eating her inside out. Sometimes she woke up sweating or crying or on the verge of screaming. Choppy pieces of muddled images were all she had left by the time her day started. Regardless of that, she did remember a small bungalow style house with flowers and kind eyed Claire kneeling in the the plants.

Every morning and night her heart pounded and her mind raced. These acrobatics even inspired her stomach to do backflips! All she could think of was his intense gaze drinking her in. She’d felt exposed and delightfully so.

Giddy, juvenile hope followed her around. Mia had thought long and hard on what to do, if anything. Technically nothing had happened. Yet everything had happened.

Luck chased her down though once Nifty started explaining why Alastor had no flowers. They didn’t like him that well! He toiled for decades trying to grow his mother's favorite flowers. So after two days of planning and securing the day off, she recruited Nifty and Husk.

Husker did the leg work of transportation magic and soon they were at the picturesque home. “I’m gettin’ a drink.”

The cat demon meandered into the house whereas Nifty already started. The tiny demoness actually moved slow in an effort to make it pristine. Neither demon asked why she was doing this and went along with it faster than she’d expected. Part of her wondered if this would incur Alastor’s wrath, but then again he could just as easily snap it all away.

According to Nifty every pain staking method he tried to add flowers to the home failed. Nearly a century of endless frustration because of flowers. Mia couldn’t help but chuckle, thinking of the great, fearsome Radio Demon being undone by the likes of a hydrangea or pansy.

She couldn’t fathom flowers knowing how to hate, but anything was possible and probable in Hell. During her labor, she kept wondering over and over again how she could remember Claire, but not Alastor? Perhaps she’d never even met him. That didn’t make sense though. How could she remember his home but not him?

Mia’s mind was so preoccupied trying to solve yet another impossible mystery that she hadn’t notice the day pass by. That Nifty and Husk had tried to warn her. That Alastor was now kneeling next to her.

It took quite a while for the red to register in her peripheral vision. A clawed hand reached out to brush a thumb against a fully blossomed, crimson camellia. Mia finally noticed, startled within an inch of her life.

“f*ck!” She exclaimed, tossing herself backwards. Her back never hit the ground as a long, jacketless arm secured her shoulders.

Alastor nearly tucked her into him but he wasn’t looking anywhere except forward, slate faced. Her eyes followed and she too fell speechless. He’d pulled one of the camellias from the bush, now holding it by a perfectly firm, green stem. The flower was full and red in his hand. Mia scrambled up, half in his lap, hands supporting herself on his thigh.

“It worked,” she hissed with a manic grin.

He looked at her with the most human expression of confusion, “What worked?”

Mia smiled ear to ear, pulling herself to his eye level by his shoulders. “Ok, hear me out! Plants as a biological thing can be trained. Kind of. So, I thought, just what if I taught them not to hate you?! Nifty got me some of your old things, a shirt, bloody rag, the likes. I shredded them up as finely as I could and mixed them with the soil. So I did that! And it worked!”

At this point she was beyond ecstatic with her botanical prowess and not-so-logical genius that pointed to the plants, proclaiming, “Take that plants! Science! Ok, magic, but whatever.”

The Radio Demon still knelt on the ground, utterly flummoxed. The last time he’d held a flower was before dying, tending to his mother’s garden. Sternly he called, “Miss Miller.”

She ceased her tyrannical rant at the garden to stare at him. Her expression twisted with remorse, “I’m sorry. I wondered why you didn’t have any flowers despite your mother having so many. Then Nifty told me about your condition. I thought just maybe, ya know? I could help. Uhm, are you upset? Honestly, you’ve gotten me out of more sh*t situations than I care to admit and you love your mother so much that I thought that maybe this would be nice, especially since you put so much into this garden. You put so much effort into everything! It’s amazing. Honestly, you deserv—”

Alastor stood up and clapped a hand on her mouth to stop the rambling. Fear crept up her spine as he stayed calm and observant of her.

He brought the flower up and tucked it behind a long ear. Then his eyes turned kind and soft above that all too charming grin.

Was she melting? Mia’s entire body felt bubbly and warm. His gestures always caught her off guard and she knew to expect the unexpected. His entertainment normally came above all else. What she’d never anticipated were his words.

“Michael,” she’d never heard him use her name before. The hand on her mouth gently slid to her cheek. His thumb brushed her lip. Breath hitched in her throat. How strange to lack air and be glad for it. Was magic the reason she couldn’t move? The reason she not dare pull away?

“Kòfær m’olé to? ”

His mother’s tongue, she realized. Hearing it left her heated. Writhing. The way he said it, it sounded the way molten gold should look: luscious, exquisite, warm. Mia burned inside out and did all she could to hide it.

Alastor slipped his hand along her jaw and down her bare neck. Her thoughts vanished with the sensation. That damn coil in her stomach started to come alive and twist with demand. Instinctually her head tipped, making more room for finger and claws. He stopped right above her pulse. His favorite spot. Surely he could feel it scorching and throbbing because she certainly did.

Since when were his hands so delicate with her? Had it always been that way? Had she missed it?

No. Today was different. The same, but different. After what felt like eons his wandering hand stopped on her shoulder. He leaned in, eyes locked with hers. “Thank you.”

If parts of her ripped at the seams today, at least it would make sense. Pricks of fire licked down her body as she mutely nodded, still wide eyed and dazed. When he stepped back, disappointment flooded her entirety. Cold couldn’t begin to describe the lack of him.

Finally she managed a few meek words, “We’re friends. I should probably check on the others …”

Alastor spun towards the house with a snap, his usual gusto on display. “But of course! The peanut gallery deserves a meal after a hard day’s labor! Surely Charlotte would let you forgo your usual duties. Might you join our humble home for a dinner my darling?”

Mia gave sigh of relief as he motioned her along to the house, yammering on about dinner. She’d never had his cooking and with the night off, perhaps one dinner wouldn’t kill her. With a laugh she said, “Sure, as long as I’m not joining as dinner.”

With a ‘POP!’ his microphone appeared, blaring a laugh track, “Now there’s a joke we’ve never heard before, am I right Al?”

Walking through the living room she caught a glimpse in the mirror. The large red blossom stood out beautifully against her inky skin and shock white hair. Quickly she made a small braid along her ear, hoping to keep the flower in place.

Chapter 41: Doubt

Chapter Text

Gabriel
Heaven’s Inner Realm
Next Cleanse: 124

“How might I help you Zadrir?”

His secretary of the last five hundred years stepped in quick and wide eyed. That was particularly odd for the four winged being.

“The Commander is coming.” That’s all he managed to breathe out before a pair of seraphim waltzed in. Without Michael or Lucifer, Heaven’s sense of organization went to Hell. Literally.

While Michael had single handedly led their function as a group, Lucifer over the eons had managed to keep the peace and inspire morale. Now any attempts at filling those painful gaps were obvious. Gabriel had taken over Lucifer’s unofficial role by creating the space of solace and questioning and happiness. Undeniably, Gabriel was a miserable substitute as he had no where near the personality and charm of his eldest brother.

Azreal should have taken it but they weren’t interested. Gabriel couldn’t blame them.

Then there was Raphael, Michael’s unfortunate successor. Following the still relatively new general in was his own twin, Jophiel.

Only second to Lucifer in stark beauty, his twin was the one who oversaw the judgment of souls. Each of the seraphim used to have their own ‘departments’, if he had to give a modern name to it. The only beings they answered to, save God Their Father, were the twins that abandoned them all. She was stoic, even when compared to Gabriel, but far kinder. He trusted her like he trusted himself. If she found sinners worth condemning, he wouldn’t question it.

“Gabie, you look ill.” Raphael quipped, feigning a sense of concern.

He’d given up on asking his younger sibling to drop the nickname somewhere around the time of dinosaurs. “What do you have to report Raphael?”

The younger took to leaning against a column, shaking his head. “They’ve managed to capture two of the cherubs. I’ve convinced Barachiel to stop sending them down for the time being. It seems those beasts aren’t as gone as you’d like.”

This was terrible news. He’d worked tirelessly to help rid the mortal plane of the demons, stepping on Raphael’s toes all the while. They were at stark odds. Gabriel couldn’t stomach what must be transpiring. Angels of any creed were immortal, thus the perfect guinea pigs. “Have you made any attempt to retrieve them?”

“And give them more of our ranks on their terms?!” Raphael barked. “Demons out number us in droves in their realm. If we do not lure them into the mortal realm or to Purgatory we’re at a stand still.”

He hated every minute of this. “What if we met with the Aesir or the Vanir?”

“Have you gone mad?!”

Yes, perhaps he had. Now he was considering folding a separate entity of demons into their ranks entirely. The Norse and Grecian namesakes were always at one another. “They loathe Zeus and his entire pantheon. They’d potentially take up our cause out of pure spite.”

“No.” Jophiel’s soft voice rang clear like a bell. “They’ll bargain for the souls.”

Souls. The souls which God Their Father bestowed upon the humans to give them salvation, had inevitably led to demons hoarding them as a resource or trophy under the guise of religion. The why didn’t matter really, those creatures had no claim or right to mortals and God’s Children were dedicated to caring for them eternally.

Faith, Gabriel reminded himself. They were servants to God Their Father. It would work out. There was reason to the madness even if he couldn’t see it. He just needed to keep faith and keep pushing.

“You’re right, of course.” Jophiel was usually right but more often than not she found ways to disagree with him. Their relationship since Lucifer’s rebellion was rocky at best. Gabriel had been Lucifer’s secretary, but after the fall, he became Michael’s. Their near inseparable relationship was founded off the emotional chasm created by Lucifer.

He could feel Jophiel but only in a muted sense. They were so far disconnected to each other that despite being linked, they lacked any cohesion. He’d not been able to make time for her in centuries with his new role. With his need for solitude. With all the pain he dealt with anymore.

Could she feel that? Did she feel it then merely wipe it away?

It didn’t matter. He would prevail. He’d stand righteous.

“What if we offer them some of their followers? Surely there are a few souls that they want. Their loved ones and heroes, no more.”

Raphael threw up his arms. “Do you recall the last time we tried to make deals with demons?”

Jophiel’s expression soured, eyes darting away from Gabriel.

“And how might I forget Raphael? If not for me you would be a youngling again!”

“Ah yes, how you love to remind me. I will not follow in the steps of the greatest traitor we ever knew. At least Lucifer fought us head on. Michael betrayed us for that ilk and led us to slaughter! I watched her turn on us for that hedonist! Each day I look them in the face, knowing what was lost.”

That day was failure for all of Heaven. At times he overheard the younglings whispering about it and the rumors would churn regularly through the entirety of Heaven. The two brothers had this argument many times about what transpired that day. Gabriel hadn’t been there and the results were the same. She’d been punished and Raphael hadn’t.

Who was he to dispute God?

———

Seviathan
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 124

“This is really nice Sev.” Charlie took a long drink of the overly sweet cocoa, the sugar nearly seeping from her personality. He noticed just how much time she spent away in her office. If Vaggie wasn’t there, sometimes he popped by with a treat.

Charlie smiled at him in that genuine, heart melting way. That type of kindness was unique to her entirely, not just to Hell.

Seviathan chuckled, winking, “Nah, I think you just missed me.”

Her face fell, head shaking. “No, don’t do that. You’re allowed to be kinder! It isn’t anything to be ashamed of no matter what anyone else says. You’ve been helpful and patient which I didn’t expect! So Seviathan, thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah whatever. I’m gonna turn in.” He swallowed hard, shrugging and twisting away from her. Fuzzy warmth spread through his stomach and f*ck, he was blushing! Damnit, Charlie was so cute.

Even if she was dating that raging tampon of a sinner he was glad just to be around her on a regular basis. She always made him feel better. Lighter. Hopeful.

“Good night!” She chirped as he stalked away.

Seviathan wanted more from Hell. More than violence and shame and power. Not that he’d tell anyone that. Definitely not his father.

Once upon a time he’d dumped Charlie in cold blood. He liked her but she was so much more than he could be! And she had dreams that his father was so opposed to. Frederick pushed Seviathan. Humiliated him. Tormented him. Controlled him.

And in his single act of defiance, he’d dumped the Crown Princess of Hell. By saying awful, dickish things, Seviathan ruined any chance of them ever getting back together. He stole his father’s dream. Seviathan maybe wasn’t in love with Charlie but he cared deeply. Their relationship might of worked if he could escape his father.

That would never happen though.

“I’m such a weak f*cking bastard!” Demonic power surged and the empty wardrobe splintered, catching with green fire. His father was ruthless and powerful and cruel. That’s why Helsa was so smart. She got it from their good old man. Seviathan was just stubborn, not clever.

He’d begged Frederick to not send Helsa, playing it off as he wanted to prove himself and make up for ruining his chance at becoming king.

That’s why he’d been sent to the hotel instead of his twin sister.

Seviathan pulled back on the magic, extinguishing the flame until it was just wispy black smoke. Opening the window, he wondered how humans felt when they jumped to their deaths. But he was too much of a coward and too far under his father’s thumb. If anyone could forgive him though, Charlie would, right?

He wouldn’t be worth of it though. Traitors typically suffered the consequences. If she was smart Charlie would hate him once it was over.

Chapter 42: Warmth

Chapter Text

Mia
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 123

3:52 AM

Mia groaned. It was the fifth time she’d woken up restless and the fourth night of not being able to sleep. She’d never had this many issues before but the memories and her anxiety didn’t care.

It felt like her true age seeping into a body that couldn’t handle it.

Tonight left her screaming and sweating. Reliving being burnt at the stake was not her idea of fun. And despite her mind and body fighting the memory, back then she’d let it happen.

She’d succumbed to her punishment of constant life and death. She’d given up hope. She’d deserved it. Why did she deserve it?

Mia headed for the lobby. Beyond her numerous expirations was another memory. Every time she reached towards it, it vanished. Mocking her, leaving only a notion left. A ghost of longing.

Frustration accompanied her exhaustion. So what had she done? Why had she given up her angelic status? Billions of years of her own life for what? What was worth being reunited with her family?

Not paying attention she turned the corner a bit too soon, smacking head first into the wall.

“Not having your own power doesn’t give you the right to try mine!”

Mia found Alastor sitting in the arm chair reading a book, doing his nightly guard duties. She slumped onto the couch cushion nearest him. Waving at the table she asked, “Can you do that thing? You know, snap, magic, coffee?”

He gave her a long side glance but snapped, producing two steaming cups. She inhaled the steam and took a drink, melting back into the couch, tucked into herself. Mia moaned into the liquid, letting the warmth role down her. “Ohhh, this is magic. Thanks Alastor.”

Alastor gave her a singular wide eyed nod, staring a hole through her.

“I’m exhausted. I can’t sleep. It’s just nightmare after nightmare. I’ve been burned at the stake, beheaded, tortured, I once slipped off a cliffside. Drowned several times. Froze to death. I’ve died … 29 times? Ok, I think 31 total but I can’t remember the other ones. Oh, in one of them my brother killed me at the age of 10! 1960s somewhen? Strangled me with a chain, that was fun.”

Mia’s head spun. Her eyes screwed shut, inhaling the bright, hot coffee. But then something warm fell over her back, jerking her into reality.

Alastor towered before her with a remarkably neutral expression, carefully fixing his jacket over her. Before she could question it he sat down. Specifically, he sat barely an inch or two away from her then opened the book once more.

Mia’s brows stitched together, mouth gaping, baffled. He wasn’t looking at her, simply searching for his spot on the page. “My coffee, Bel Zanj.”

She didn’t know what ‘bel zanj’ meant, but like all his odd pet names, she didn’t press. Those pet names, condescending or not, made her feel special to him.

Obediently she handed over the mug. However, Alastor held out his opposite hand just out of reach. Mia had to lean into his shoulder and over his lap to give it to him. Now she was thoroughly squished to his side, their hips pressed together, her cheek against his arm. Everything about him felt warm. His arm. His coffee. His jacket. His expression.

In her effort to not spill the coffee, she missed how he watched her from over the book’s edge.

Alastor started reading, low enough that if she moved away, she wouldn’t hear him. So Mia stayed. At some point the arm holding the book situated onto her curled up leg. This nearly tucked her under him, his body becoming a makeshift shield from the outside world. Was he being sympathetic to her insomnia given his own experience?

Whatever it was, she let herself enjoy it. Mia’s eyes closed. She didn’t know this book, but listened more for the sound of his voice than anything. Being so thoroughly attracted to him made everything harder yet easier.

And yes, he did ridicule her, but she enjoyed the sparring. Other than not being safe from him, she was in fact safe. Safe from having to lie and pretend to be something she wasn’t. Alastor was officially her vice.

Mia was keen to believe they understood one another. Products of unknown circ*mstances, subject to lives they weren’t entirely privy about. Diametrically opposed in so many ways while being painfully similar. It was nice to be close to him without the world crumbling around her. Not crying in his arms for once. Here, tucked against him of her own volition, his company on his terms, she felt free.

Freedom. Safety. Wasn’t that what she wanted?

And still, it wasn’t enough. There was one more thing she wanted and she felt so close to having it. Desperation clung to her ribs, aching to get out of this vague relationship they had.

Mia reached over and placed her hand on the book. Alastor quieted, head tilting down to look at her. She didn’t let him speak though, her finger tips pressing to his mouth. The warmth spread in her mixing with the deep exhaustion and vibrating anticipation.

His eyebrow lifted, but for whatever reason, he didn’t stop her.

Her fingers caressed from his mouth to his cheek, mimicking his movement from the garden. Those fangs— A trance like curiosity overtook her. Her thumb pressed to his lips, catching the edge of his vicious fang. Then she pressed, sucking in a breath. Fresh red trickled down her thumb to her palm.

Alastor’s eyes were tight and predatory, frozen on her. Tension coiled from his ears to his shoulders and down the entire length of his body. He sat like ice. Then his mouth parted, ruining the illusion of being suspended in time.

Mia breached his lips and placing her bloody thumb to his tongue. A deep, satisfied growl rolled up his chest as his tongue probed at the cut.

Alastor’s body snapped forward like lightning. With one jerk she was pinned to the couch under his body, one hand seizing the back of her neck while the other grabbed her wrist. He released her thumb, taking the time to lick away the small rivulet.

As his tongue, a notably dark, pointed, and prehensile muscle, rolled over her flesh. Glowing crimson eyes caught her gaze. What was he looking for?

When she didn’t look away he smiled. Yes, this was very much a demon, perhaps the most dangerous and compelling one in Hell. And she had his full attention.

Mia needed more. Static in the air prickled her skin and that warmth over her body twisted. It morphed into a heavy heat as his fangs situated against her skin, probing the pulse of her neck.

And yet, he didn’t bite down.

Sanity and instinct betrayed her. Willingly her head craned to the side, exposing a larger swath of skin to him. A silent permission. Alastor’s bite was swift and not nearly as painful as expected. The only sounds being made now were hers, soft wavering pants and mewling gasps.

He sucked, tongue lapping at the fresh wound, compelling it to bleed. Claws moved up into her hair, scalding the nerves in her body, making certain her neck stayed exposed. His other hand released her wrist and slipped down her side. Mia wrapped her arms upward, clinging to his shoulders. He encircled her waist.

They were trapped by one another.

Trapped by craving.

A dizzying shock ran through her as he groaned, sinking in his teeth once more but far deeper. Where she could feel his hips there was something particularly solid. Filled with mischief and wanton desire, Mia stroked her leg against it. There was a burst of crackling static and he pulled her tighter. She drew her hand up the nape of his neck, fingers tracing through the short hair. Claws sank into the flesh of her hip. Her pelvis pushed up.

Alastor froze.

It took a minute to realize that whatever was starting came full stop. In an instant he was standing and facing away, leaving her exposed and stupefied.

Alastor melted into a shadow, disappearing entirely.

Her heart hammered, cold air and deafening silence washing over her.

It wasn’t making out but …

He vanished on her. Both cups, the book, his jacket— all still there.

No, he fled.

Had she insulted him? Mia rocketed upward, brain trying to do double time but it just made her dizzier.

f*ck was he going to kill her?

Mia went lightheaded from the rapid blood loss and her thundering heart. He’d certainly taken more than expected but she needed to get up. God forbid anyone saw her bloody, dazed, and wearing his jacket. The scene looked incriminating for all the wrong reasons. Unfortunately, Husk was staring at her wide eyed from the bar, God forsaking her all the while.

“How long—”

He held up his hand and shook his head, hurriedly stomping over. It was like he was trying to dislodge the memory before it set in. “Long enough Wings.”

Husk offered a hand, eyeing Alastor’s jacket the entire time. “f*cking hell, what is wrong with you? Like you’re trying to get killed.”

She wobbled on her feet, pushing her arms into the jacket one by one. Mia stayed mute on the matter. Her confused, lost expression stood as the only explanation.

“You f*cking fool. Al ain’t like that. He likes your blood. Not you. That asshole ain’t gotta care for anything except what he wants. If twisting your feelings accomplishes that, so be it. He’d do worse for less.”

That stung.

She pushed her hair around to conceal the bloody mark, thoroughly embarrassed. Mia was grateful for his silence as he helped her back to her room.

At the door she reluctantly slipped off the jacket, handing it to him. Mia wasn’t sure what burned more: getting rejected by someone she had no business being after or being stupid enough to feel that way in the first place. “Thanks for the reality check Husk.”

He groaned, giving her a pitiful and sympathetic look. A clawed hand pushed through his fur, glancing around as if he needed to be cautious. “Ah sh*t Wings. Listen. Once upon a time, Al had a wife if you can believe it.”

Her face and gut twisted. She didn’t know what to do with that tidbit. “How do you know?”

“Met ‘er. My folks worked at a hotel and we lived outta the place. Al stayed there once with his misses and old lady when I was a kid. I always reckon he killed her or something happened cause he’s never mentioned it. Never alludes to it.”

Mia’s stomach dropped to the floor, nodding mutely. Why was that important?

Maybe Alastor had only space for one person and they were long gone? Or was it to give her hope? Who could be so strong as to be married to Alastor? Or was it a sham of a marriage? A familiar burning sensation crept up in her eyes and throat.

“Don’t take it personally and get some rest.” Husk stalked off, rubbing his face and shaking his head.

Mia slammed her bedroom door, a sob breaking through. “God f*cking damnit!”

She sank to the floor, fist pounding into the carpet. How could she be so blind and foolish and stupid and hopeful and moronic? This wasn’t normal! This wasn’t right!

God, she’d let him come close to eating her and she damn well enjoyed it! Why was she like this?

Why?

A rupturing pain burst through her head, sending her sailing to the bathroom with fresh nausea. Perhaps the stabbing migraine was from the lightbulb exploding in her brain.

Everything fell into place. His mother. The cookbook. Gabriel’s instantaneous hate. The memories that eluded her well until now. Through the gasping and sobbing and wrenching all those distorted dreams pieced together.

Mia slumped against the cool tile, head cradled in her hands. There was cinnamon skin, a wide beaming smile, soft hair, glasses, long strong limbs, and wit sharper than a holy blade. Mia passed out to patchy half-memories of a human Alastor Laveau.

Chapter 43: Losing

Chapter Text

Alastor
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 119

Oh why hadn’t he heeded his mother’s advice!?

Long ago she’d had that all too uncomfortable talk with Alastor about the merits of men and women and their couplings. His darling mother took special care to warn him against expressing interest in women unless he was certain. And especially against women who might cause trouble. Alastor always accounted that advice to the rising tensions under Jim Crow but now he certainly believed the woman clairvoyant!

Yet again, Miss Miller was determinedly chasing him down. Perhaps he ought have chosen a less tenacious prey? One far easier to break mentally. But she’d been such fun until this little hiccup!

Alastor solidified in the lobby, strolling along to the bar.

Luck abandoned him though. If he hadn’t personally known the Devil, he’d blame this misfortune on Lucifer.

Mimzy sauntered in, dark eyes latching on him immediately. For several months he’d become an expert at avoiding her when she was at the hotel for her laughable outpatient services. The lack of seeing her was glorious and he’d not thought of her as of late.

And then, turning the corner like the hellion she was, came Miss Miller.

Seeing her anymore left garbled panic in his stomach so he’d simply left. Wasn’t that what Charlotte called conflict resolution? No need for conflict if he was gone!

But she’d gotten more tenacious and had stayed awake in the lobby for the past three nights.

“Why Mimzy! How delightful of you to visit us today!” Alastor high tailed it over to the tiny songstress, placing her hand onto his arm and guiding her through the lobby. Mimzy started chattering, though he didn’t pay it any mind. Instead he spared a sneaky glances to Miss Miller who stood looking uncharacteristically calm. Usually she avoided Mimzy.

She started walking, eyes trained to him. This wouldn’t do. In no world, for no being, would he become the prey!

“Alastor I think we —”

The pair shadowed right through her, laughing.

Alastor didn’t look even when he felt Mimzy shift in Miss Miller’s direction briefly to make a scathing, catty comment. After a few storming steps the lobby doors slammed, rattling the walls.

Finally! There was nothing a little humiliation couldn’t solve!

So why wasn’t that vexing gnaw in his stomach gone?

———

Mia
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 119

She’d chased after him, making a belligerent fool of herself! Today was no different.

Actually, it was.

Instead of running from her, he’d acted like she didn’t exist! Later in the evening she wasn’t attempting to hunt him down but there he was.

Mia raced down the hall, catching sight of the red coat’s tail.

“f*ck!” She yowled as the door came down on her fingertips.Mia burst through the door to find Alastor. The crimson bastard whipped around, his face split with a crooked anxious grin.

Before getting through a stride, he magically fumbled through a shadow.

“Childish asshole!” Mia swore, fist banging a fist into the nearest object. The innocent decanter shattered to the floor, her hopelessness spilling out with the whiskey.

This was pointless. Mia rifled through the drawers of his desk for paper and pen. He would never listen to her!

‘I didn’t mean to’

No.

‘You’re being ridic’

Again she scratched it out.

‘We were married’

Mia stared hard, not knowing what she was doing. The cookbook had to be proof! It made sense in a puzzle pieces sort of way but if that was the case why didn’t he remember her? Or maybe he did?

And even if he did! What was she expecting? For that exceptional torturer, gourmet cannibal, and overall scheming hedonist to do what? Profess his love for her? To be nice or kind or empathetic? No! She was chasing down nothing but emotion without any rationale or forethought. Mia breathed. This wasn’t who she was.

Her heart twisted, thinking about Gabriel. He’d been partially right. Or maybe he was entirely right? She acted like a demon now, living whim to whim.

Alastor would never be interested and any history between was gone forever. There came a pang of sadness, a deep cloying desperation to keep trying. Maybe all of this was just residual emotion?

Even so, any man he might have been was long dead.

The paper crumpled in her fist before being stuffed in a pocket. This was over. Mia was officially ending this bout of insanity.

———

Mia
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 116

She and Alastor were successfully avoiding each other now and peace finally returned.

Once again she was in control of her emotions without the whiplash of Gabriel or Alastor.

Clarity was vastly underrated.

Throughout the morning she setup the ballroom for an open event: speed dating. The idea was well received by plenty of demons and the planning lasted for several days. Mia hated to admit it but this was wholly Seviathan’s success. He’d expertly advertised Angel Dust and a few other attractive demons. Other than the first couple days, he wasn’t unruly or overwhelmingly problematic, just a bitch at times.

Mia peeked around the corner, finding plenty of demons settled into the lobby with a drink while getting checked in.

Charlie spotted her and lit up like a Christmas tree before running over. “Auntie, I need your help!”

Mia would always help Charlie and not out of the gut wrenching guilt Gabriel incited. Charlie never asked her for any help but Mia was usually right there regardless.

Worry set in. She placed her hands on the demoness’s shoulders, “Sweet girl, is everything ok?”

Charlie gave thin laugh with an anxious grin,“Well, we’re one short ...”

“Oh.”

Mia grimaced and groaned before letting out a huff and a nod. Charlie squealed and dragged her into the lobby, chattering on about some participants being genuinely interested and some looking for work. But Mia wasn’t listening. She’d just gotten away from whatever was obviously not happening with Alastor. And now this?

Charlie shoved her down next to Angel Dust who was resting his legs on a bent over participant. The makeshift demonic table was thanking the spider for the opportunity in hushed prayers.

“This is normal for you?”

“All the time Mia Bella,” he purred, throwing an arm around her shoulders.

“Every schmuck here is dying to get some’a this! Pfft, I just sent some other John to pick up my dry cleanin’!”

“Ugh, that's why. Thanks Angel, this is exactly how I wanted to spend my day,” she bitched, taking down the rest of his pink drink.

“Oh doll, you’s need to get laid instead of poutin’ around over Smiles.”

“I am not!”

“Oh yeah right. Ain’t no one here blind. You’s two used to be attached at the hip! Come on, tell Mama what happened!” Angel kicked away his worshiper, who in turn maybe a noise akin to getting off.

“Nothing happened,” she gritted.

“Ain’t what Husky told me.”

Mia felt alight under Angel’s scrutiny, trying not remember the single most humiliating night of her life. In an effort to not talk about the red radio bastard she took the bait. “Fine! You're right, I need to get laid. But I am not looking to get maimed by some demon looking for a flesh light!”

Angel choked down a laugh, eyeing her all too knowingly. Mia, knowing that he knew, went to leave. The spider jerked her back down into a lung crushing hug. “No don’t leave me with these feet freaks! I’m sorry. Ok, ok. What about that one?”

With Angel laying off humiliating her, he started pointing out demons he either knew to be vanilla or ones he got the right kind of vibes from. Some of them were even Hellborns. The more she looked though, the more she couldn’t get the last several months out of her head.

Stanislav.

Baxter.

Alastor. Her ex husband?

No! Mia pinched her leg for a distraction but it didn't work. It only reminded her of how it didn't hurt compared to all she'd been through!

Angel was right. Getting laid was a good idea. Get under to get over. Except she wasn’t on Earth and the idea was exhausting. But she needed to try!

Mia concocted a plan to make herself absolutely undesirable to any one with ulterior motives: three questions.

“Do you think women should be allowed to vote?”

That weeded out 70% of demons. Either they utterly disagreed with the notion or were so turned off they just got up. If they made it past that part, she followed up with a hard hitter.

“What do you think was the most important scientific discovery made when you were alive?”

Only four demons made it that far, one being Sir Pentious who gave her a spirited, intellectual conversation. Not that he was ever an option though. For a while people had spied the snake with Angel's brother.

The third was more a statement that question.

“Zero physical intimacy unless there are at least two other dates. Do you understand?”

All but one demon minded. Sitting in front of her was a purplish looking sinner demon. He looked akin to an incubbi, with dark blue wings and speckled, pointed tail but parts of him were wispy, hair billowing around like black smoke. He was frightfully cute, with yellow eyes framed by Warby Parkers and a big, kind smile.

“I’ve gotten tired of hooking up and came to meet someone like minded. And here you are! I’m Cloud.”

“Mia.”

Cloud answered all of her questions wonderfully and in earnest. During life he’d been a virologist and civil rights activist. Allegedly a bad judgment in fighting for queer rights must have landed him in Hell. He thought vaccines single-handedly were the most important human invention.

At some point he’d convinced her to bring out the chess board. There was a comfort to it that she missed, speaking academically with someone. It reminded her of Baxter until it all went to sh*t.

“So why’d you sign up?” He asked, questionably maneuvering a bishop.

Mia answered with a similarly confusing placement. “I work here. There was an odd number so I got voluntold.”

“Ah, so you’re just trying to be polite? Lure me into this scheme you’re running?”

“Of course not. And this isn’t a scheme! We’re seriously trying to help people!”

“Odd how you call everyone people?”

“Aren’t they?”

“Are we? We died. We’ve become demons. Don’t you need flesh to be a person?”

Mia scoffed, but grinned, cornering him slowly but surely. “And why is flesh so special? Souls are immortal regardless.”

“Being down here changes us though.”

The notion was distracting because it was true. She wasn’t even dead. Hell warped souls, not just dead souls.

“But it doesn’t have to! We have the same autonomy as ever.”

“As humans we were so equal by birth though even if we divided ourselves. Power changes everything here. The rules of existence are different.”

He wasn’t wrong. Vast inequalities in power created divisions unlike anything on Earth.

She went to make her rebuttal and move, but then she saw it. “Oh my god.”

He’d beat her. Mia’s jaw hung open, going back over the game. The unexpected defeat cleared her mind of any Hell related troubles. Cloud’s hand moved to collect the final piece even though he’d indisputably won. In an almost disappointing way his fingers avoided hers.

“How about boba tomorrow?”

“Trying to extort your winnings already? You are ruthless.”

“Actually I wanted to buy you one to soothe your bruised ego,” he winked, smiling. Mia laughed, noting that while he was entirely charming she didn’t feel any of the danger she’d become accustomed to. And now she was a warrior.

What could it hurt? This time she wouldn’t make the same mistakes.

This time she would be in control.

Chapter 44: Anger

Chapter Text

Mia
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 113

She’d met with Cloud several times since the speed dating. There was definitely chemistry there but neither tried anything. So Mia decided she would.

He had friends in a small orchestra group and had tickets. Mia felt excited. Like she was a junior all over again going to the movies with Marcel Esteban. It felt so blissfully normal.

Down in the lobby Cloud had waited, gabbing politely with Husk and Angel. But then he caught sight of her. The demon stood, all smiles and kind eyes. “You look lovely Mia.”

Oh she’d forgotten how nice it was for things to be simple. Smiling ear to ear she giggled like a nervous school girl. “Says you looking dashing as always.”

And he did, wearing a vaguely English tweed vest and slacks most the time. But today he’d traded his hipster flare for a modern, clean look. No fuss.

Angel threw all four arms around her, eyeing all up and down Cloud. “If you don’t want him Mia Bella-”

Her elbow gouged into his ribs with a saccharine smile. Angel pouted back to the bar, looking for solace in Husk. But the cat looked distracted now, eyes bouncing around the corners of the room before tightly adding, “Get out of here. Now. No one wants to see that sappy sh*t.”

Mia shrugged it off as Cloud offered her an arm and the left. They’d already settled into a conversation about some genomes Cloud found interesting, but towards the end of the driveway, her stomach plummeted.

Static licked and crackled around them as Alastor appeared.

Cloud froze, immediately knowing who the red asshole was. “Why, taking an evening stroll are we? And so finely dressed!”

“S-Sir we’re not, uh, looking for any trouble …”

Mia rolled her eyes and pushed Cloud forward. Alastor had ignored her for days and like always, was here to antagonize her. She should have seen it coming.

“Ignore him. Let’s go,” she commanded, taking her date by the hand. He didn’t resist but looked at her like she’d gone insane.

“And where might you be going Miss Miller?”

She ignored him, stomping through the growing static.

“You know him?” Cloud was radiating panic, starting to pull back on her hand, trying not to directly pass by Alastor.

“Of course I do, he’s one of the owners.”

Cloud skidded to a stop, staring openly at Alastor who now laughed, “Yes, it is true, I’ve taken stock in this fine establishment. I’d missed the week’s latest soul grab! And Miss Miller here is one of my favorite employees.”

Toys, she thought. The bastard means toys.

“Cloud, we’re going to be late. Your friends are waiting.” Mia tried to coax him gently, smiling and calm. This was an average response to Alastor by the sinners and Cloud hadn’t left screaming.

“I uh—“ Oh no. Cloud’s hand fell from hers, eyes trained on the Radio Demon. Mia didn’t spare Alastor a look.

“Why, he’s left dumbstruck! Perhaps I ought accompany you both? It would be a shame for him to go missing.”

Cloud lurched back when Alastor stepped forward. “Mia, I’m sorry! I just — I …”

The demon turned to clouds and smoke before weaving away through the city.

“Why he must be a fan of mine!” Alastor cackled before walking off.

“You ass!” She screamed.

Still he ignored her, whistling. God she had to let it go! Part of her was dying on the inside, furious and desperate. He didn’t deserve to remember her!

Mia pulled off a heel, wheeling it right into the back of his head. Alastor whipped around snarling but her other shoe made a bullseye on his nose.

“You! Ugh! You narcissistic egomaniacal co*ck block! I hate you! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you! Don’t you ever look at me or talk to me again!”

Mia seethed and stormed off to the side of the building. Alastor accepted her challenge though. She stepped right through a shadow that turned her around to face him. He just smiled, not looking at her. So this was his plan? Malicious compliance?!

If only she was a good three feet taller! So she could reach that infuriatingly handsome face and scream in it! Jab her finger right in that know it all nose! She’d jerk his ear just to be a bitch! f*ck she’d kiss him even! And then she’d smack the living sh*t out of him!

“Leave me alone! I would like to get laid again before I die!”

“I BEG YOUR PARDON?” Radio dials twisted into his eyes, hand perching on his chest like a scandalized church lady.

“YOU HEARD ME! I Want. To get. f*cked.”

The abject horror across his face fueled her.

Mia snapped in closer, mouth gassed and geared up.

”And a certain Radio Demon is in my way! I get that your dainty sensibilities can’t understand the needs of a woman but I am so goddamn f*cking horny, I can’t stand it! And then YOU come along! Not only do I have to put up with you being disgustingly f*cking sexy but I have to put up with how much of a judgmental holier-than-thou prude you are!”

“I— I beg your pardon?” He breathed, throat seizing in his neck.

Her arm flung upward, the rush of it bring a wind to his burning cheeks.

“YES! As you should! I’m human! A human that comes with an expiration date long over due! I will be gone soon enough, ok?! So I’d like to meet someone and not regret this cluster f*ck that is my life before Our Father-Who-Art-Toying-With-Me hits my big red reset button! Because what’s worse, I know no one is coming for me the next time! This is all I have! So stop torturing me!”

Somewhere between her fury with him and the absolute anxiety from waiting every day for death, she cracked, now trembling in place.

“No one is going to give me my family back and I’ll never know why and I won’t even get to miss them. And—“

Mia ground her fist into his chest.

”I won’t even get to miss you …”

Alastor stared, mouth open but silent.

“So please, if you ever do one kind thing stop being a pain in my ass!”

The seconds ticked by with nothing but the sounds of Hell. Not even his know-it-all gimmicks.

That’s how it was then.

Mia sucked in a shaky breath and moved away from him, trying to save her dignity and false sense of pride.

One step into her retreat, Alastor finally said something.

“Why would you subject yourself to such a messy act? And with a stranger! Surely you of all people are more discerning than the common whor*!”

Mia’s head shot up, eyes drilling into him as if she hadn’t just handed him her vulnerability and emotions on a plate. He sneered off into the distant though, as if envisioning an over cooked piece of meat.

“Oh— you old f*cking prude!”

It was one of those instances where walking away was the adult decision. The sane one. And she’d been ready to! But Alastor was the last being in existence who inspired sanity in her. Threads of humiliation, indignation, and absolute incredulousness braided through her. Her voice built into a scream. “And who do I know that I should be having sex with before I die hmm?! My options aren’t simply limited you piece of sh*t, they’re non existent!”

And again, he stared. What was across his face?

Mia waited, crossing her arms.

His movements struck her as odd. Bizarre and off putting for him, especially given how his extended silence still lacked that pompous sound reel.

Alastor straightened up, smoothing out his hair, then his lapels. He tightened his bow-tie. It was odd, what those small movements reminded her of. Like how students nervously primped before having their school picture taken. Even his expression went mild.

Then he cleared his throat, hands clasping behind his back. “I suppose if you are in need of intercourse it is only suitable to partake with a person you know, preferably someone reputable.”

The confusion in her voice could be heard 5 rings down.

“And who might that be?”

A clawed hand came around to tap on his chin. And despite how his head turned upwards, as if the hotel became truly fascinating, a predatory gaze slipped down every minuscule fraction of her.

Slowly he moved around her, carefully circling closer. The backs of his claws trickled down from her neck to shoulder.

Alastor leaned down into her ear. The way his cheek disturbed her hair sent prickling sparks down her skin.

“As you’ve so kindly regarded myself, ma jolie proie, I am f*cking sexy.”

Steel rods seemingly shot through her chest and spine, spiking down into the ground, holding her captive. Had she really said that? Yes. Yes she had and all with the confidence and bravado of a fool. And oh God, she was turned on.

“Y-y-y- you w-uh— uh you want to have sex? With me?”

“I don’t believe want is the right word.”

Her face twisted, mimicking the way the neurons in her brain scrambled for any semblance of logic. “So you don’t want to have sex with me?”

Alastor rolled his eyes. “Allow me to rephrase. I find it necessary to dissuade you from having intercourse with another being, especially given how Hell is keen on carnal acts that would leave a particular human maimed.”

“So you don’t want me having sex with someone else?”

“Indeed, that is the case.”

“But you don’t want to have sex with me?”

“I don’t find it to be a necessary experience.”

“And if I do have sex with someone?”

“I’ll be sure to give them a proper congratulations! Coaxing such a marvelous doll into rumpling her bed sheets is nothing to snark at! They’ll also have the privilege of becoming my broadcast’s prime time guest! After which I’ll make them into a marvelous meal.”

Alastor twisted into something dark and menacing and frigid despite how his hands, slipping upward from her forearms to shoulders, felt like a thousand suns.

Her face contorted and tipped, mind rattling to decide which part of that she needed to focus on. “So I can’t have sex with anyone but you without you torturing them? Eating them? But I can’t have sex with you either?”

A brow popped up in sincerity, “And why can’t you?”

“OH MY GOD YOU’RE IMPOSSIBLE!” She burst forward, lunging and twisting to escape his Hellish machinations.

“I’m not sure I follow your reasoning my dear.” Alastor grinned, looking far too charming as he tipped up her chin with a finger.

Mia smacked his hand away with an indignant groan. For now she could only focus on the simplest fact. “That’s rape, you crazy bastard! Having sex with some WHO DOESN’T WANT TO is rape! I am not a rapist. Jesus on a f*cking stick. What f*cking twilight zone am I in right now?!”

She twisted around in a circle or two, hands flailing. Then she stopped, finger jutting accusingly at his nose, “Aren’t you a virgin?”

“Absolutely not!”

The process of her face mirroring the absolute chaos of her mind right now started again. Then she blinked, head tipping.

“When? With who?!”

Alastor scoffed, throwing her a disdaining look, hands settling onto his hips. His body squared up almost as if he were trying to display, not his ever present intimidating overlordness, but the fact that he was a man.

“When I was a younger man. She was a retired, widowed governess. It was a dalliance in learning that one must sometimes give to get. And no, it was not rape before you go prattling on with your modern gobbledygook! I actively participated.”

“And just how old were you?” She squeaked out.

Alastor smiled, seemingly pleased with himself. “16!”

Mia’s eye twitched. “How old was she?”

He had to think on that. This wasn't something he often revisited. “I do believe in her mid 40s.”

If anyone nearby was telepathic, they surely would have heard the deafening snap of her self control. Her cheeks blazed with fury, glaive appearing in hand. Alastor had to move back an inch as her arm moved in anger, demanding, “Her name! Now! She must be in Hell! I—“

Mia paused though, gaping again as her voice came down to a whisper, “I’m going to run her through. I’ll shred her soul to pieces.”

Alastor took pause at the novel reaction before him. Her rage was obvious, her eyes glossed over, teeth gritting under a snarl, knuckles whitening around that fearsome weapon. Alastor could empathize with that kind of wrath. But to be so distraught over something that had happened over a century ago?

To him?

Homicidal madness suited her quite well, he thought. Such bright, flaming beauty set in the gilded frame of blood lust. A want twinged inside of him, wondering what it would be like to watch her massacre another. To watch her delight in sin, laughing and smiling, looking thoroughly radiant with freshly ripped out heart beating in her hands.

And for him? To serve and please him?

Alastor all but licked his lips at the wild fantasy. He wanted that. Unfortunately his pride would end that debauched fantasy. “All on behalf of my honor! Why Bel Zanj, so chivalrous. Alas, I know nothing about her in Hell nor do I care enough to find out.”

Instead of stoking her fire, it smothered out. The weapon was no where to be found as big, soft eyes turned up to him. She rubbed her hands together, seeming uncertain.

“I’m so sorry. I— Are you alright?”

He did not need her pity. What a fool of a girl! Trying to feel sorry for him. For what? If anything, he’d used that woman! Absolutely that was the case. It couldn’t have been any other way. Alastor had decided to never be used or humiliated ever since his father.

No, she ought feel sorry for herself. He’d have to remind her of that fact.

“My precious, naive, foolhardy prey, there’s no need to worry about me. I’m fit as a fiddle! I received more than I wanted or needed. But you?”

Tantalizingly slow, he pulled on the soft hair, tipping her head back. One leg moved between hers. Mia tried to pull her head back down, a whimper drifting out of her gasping mouth.

The claws around her waist flitted up to where the dress opened for her wings. Sparks and shivers ran up her spine as the sharp points nipped on the sensitive flesh.

Those quivers made him smile. He did love how his prey was right where it belonged. And yet he wanted so much more from her sudden meekness. All at once his leg grazed through hers while his claws sunk in.

Mia pitched forward into him, quivering and panting. He didn’t hesitate to do it again.

“Ah-Alastor, please!”

Again she tried to jerk her head, but Alastor captured it to the side. That demonic tongue laved along the scorching pulse of her neck. Next came his fangs scraping. His jaw went wide teeth encapsulating the area. All it would take was one snap to douse him in that gloriously hot blood. Sweet and thick and luscious.

”Alastor! You- This ahhhhh— “ There came a hard jerk, Mia using all of her limbs to force away from him. That was not the problem though. Something seared against his cheek, causing Alastor to thoroughly drop her onto the ground.

Already she was scrambling, failing miserably, to get to her feet while holding her holy weapon. It dawned on him that she’d summoned it between their bodies, grazing his cheek on the blade's edge. Even still that felt like a piece of his soul was being flayed off.

The moment he took to rub his cheek was enough for her heaving, wild eyed form to recover and mad dash for the hotel.

Chapter 45: Silence

Chapter Text

Charlie
Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 111

Charlie tried tugging the long sleeved crop top down, uncomfortable with just how much of her stomach was showing. Vaggie was thankfully meeting with Dr. Antti otherwise this would have been a very different scenario. Nervously she looked over to her aunt, dressed in a similar fashion of denim cut offs and hot pink fishnets, who seemed a bit too fine with it all.

“Seviathan, is this really necessary?”

Her ex boyfriend had decided that utilizing the hotel’s social media for gimmicks would be more useful than explaining the merits of redemption! Sadly it was working.

Mia gave her a sympathetic look, tying a pink plaid flannel around Charlie's waist. “I hate to say it, but he isn’t wrong. My best friend was popular for stuff like this. No rhyme or reason, just attractive people doing random stuff.”

“Your best friend is a human?” Charlie asked out of Seviathan’s earshot. The woman grimaced, then smiled, nodding.

“Yeah. She taught me a few dances like this. We could film a foot shake? Do you know what that is?”

Charlie’s head shook while Seviathan finished setting up a ring light and tripod. “Foot shakes are lame.”

Mia stared daggers into his skull, taking Vaggie’s place as her unofficial body guard. “Well all of your ideas were garbage. There’s no point in making Charlie uncomfortable. Angel would do it so we can just wait.”

“No! I want to do it! Show me how.”

“You’ll have to twerk,” he chimed, grinning at her, biting the corner of his mouth. Before she could ask what a twerk even was, her aunt flung a plate at him. It spun through the air perfectly colliding into his neck.

“Mia!” Charlie gasped, instantly caught between the need to scold her aunt and check on the victim. Still, her aunt was snickering as the other gasped for air, growling.

“He absolutely deserved that Charlie. Twerking is where you shake your ass. You want to try again Sev? I won’t miss next time.”

He snarled, magic starting to pop around him, “You bitch! You—“

“Why young man, I thought we were well agreed that your behavior as a guest would be spotless, yes?”

Al appeared out of the shadows, stepping in front of the grumbling green demon. As he leaned into Seviathan’s face, Charlie could feel his magic grow in the air. Curiously, her eyes drifted to Mia who was furiously preoccupied with texting, obviously not looking at Alastor.

It pained her. Hadn’t Mia made real progress with Al? They’d seemed to be doing so well!

“Al I thought you were busy today?”

That’s what he said yesterday. Charlie made a point to not know about his business out of the hotel. He wheeled around, facade breaking for a fraction of a second as his eyes rolled over their bright, eclectic outfits. His eyes lingered a little too long on her aunt, thoroughly horrified. “What is this?”

He gestured wildly to Mia, not seemingly worried about Charlie's appearance.

“You are indecent! What has possessed you to raid Angel Dust’s wardrobe?!” Her aunt was more exposed.

Mia huffed, eyes rolling. “Piss off you geriatric stereo. It isn’t like we’re down here in pasties and boas! This is perfectly normal attire, not that you’d know.”

Alastor’s eye twitched and Charlie went to step between them but stopped. They were adults. Right? Vaggie had asked her not to get involved in every little squabble and her aunt was nearly an expert in handling Alastor by now! So she backed away, uncertain if she’d regret it.

“You’ve started traipsing about like an alley cat,” he quipped, sneering.

Mia grinned, slinking towards him. “Aw Alastor, I didn’t think you were looking.”

“Uh Mia,” Charlie whispered, having an awful feeling about what began to unfold. Her aunt didn’t seem to hear though. Claws trailed up Alastor’s shirt before hooking under bowtie and tugging.

Hard.

Alastor’s smile widened, the air bristling with static and magic. “If you’re keen to act like a whor*, you may as well look the part my dear!”

There came a snap.

Charlie gasped and yelled, “Alastor!”

“AHAHA! Serves that bitch right!” Seviathan cackled, patting the red demon’s arm before being slung backwards to the wall.

Mia however, went full on silent, a fury blooming across her face. She stood nearly naked in pasties, a thong, and feather boa. Before another second passed her aunt’s fist crashed into Alastor’s neck, causing him to heave and hack. Her bare shin came up right between his legs before she raced away.

Record scratches and demonic energy filled the room. His eyes glowed, horns twisting as he stepped forward. Charlie rushed, blocking the doorway, shoving him firmly backwards. Her own power started to leak as she demanded, “Enough! How could you Alastor!?”

He noticed her own growing horns. She could feel her teeth sharpening. On plenty of occasions she’d been told anytime her demonic power slipped, the energy of it could be felt suppressing anyone else in the room. This time was no exception as he stepped back, smile dwindling.

Before chasing off after her aunt, she stepped into his precious personal bubble. “That was absolutely uncalled for! Your definition of modesty does not dictate everyone else’s! So much for being a gentleman!”

There was no reaction from him though. Fine. Charlie would deal with his behavior later but for now she needed to check on her aunt.

———

Alastor
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 110

Given their familial relation, he’d expect Charlotte to be quite upset with him. Yet she seemed just as well during the regular staff meeting that evening with his prey nowhere to be seen. The moment the room cleared though, the princess piped up with a more serious tone, “Al, can you hang back for a bit?”

“But of course Princess!” He exclaimed, feigning that the was nothing wrong in the slightest.

“Cut the sh*t Al.” She deadpanned. Despite looking stoic, her eyes bled red and small pointed nubs formed on her forehead. “Would you like to know what I’ve learnt today?”

Alastor quirked an eyebrow, smiling the same as ever. On the inside was a gnawing sensation that crept into his very being.

Was this part of her magic? While he was powerful and far more likely to act, Charlotte could easily over power him, the same as Lucifer. Out wit him? Never, but that wasn’t the game they were currently playing. “Please tell me what’s on your mind Charlotte.”

She stalked around the desk. He noticed how her shoulders started to shake, visible thumb nails becoming sharpened claws. It surely pierced the skin of her palms by now. His eyes turned to dials. It would have been more effective if she were a shorter demoness. Or perhaps he just wanted to believe that. How angry could she be for only a small prank?

Charlotte jerked on his lapels, snarling. Six burning, massive wings sprouted and the world shifted around them. Alastor didn’t get a second to register what was happening before the wind was knocked out of him. The force she used to pummel him into a seemingly stone surface was enough to leave a several inches deep, Radio Demon shaped hole.

Instinct tried taking him over but her powers were suppressing his. He had no idea of what she was capable of magic wise. Inside of him seared as if he touched the sun. Alastor hissed and gasped in genuine pain.

“It seems I’ve truly angered you Charlotte.”

She snarled and screeched at him. Now he noticed black tears running down her face. “You hurt her!”

“It was a prank, dear girl. Could you be so kind as t-” The searing feeling swelled again, rendering him unable to finish the sentence.

“Kind?! Is that what you call sexually harassing my Vaggie? My girlfriend?!”

Ah yes. It seemed that in Miss Miller’s frustration with him, something about their previous encounter had slipped.

He opened his mouth but she wouldn’t give him the opportunity to speak.

“ᏕᎥᏝᏋᏁፈᏋ.”

That word did not come out in any human language he knew of. It commanded his soul to the core, destroying any ability he had to speak. Proof of her birthright. Proof that he’d forgotten just who and what she was.

“I believe in redemption. And now you do too Alastor. From this day on, until Vaggie forgives you, consider yourself apart of the program and if you dare sexually harass another soul, I will use you to test the extent of my rage. And you owe Mia a real apology.”

Her palm glowed black and fiery above his face before she tore it away, showing him some small mercy. “And it’s Charlie.”

Afterwards she vanished.

Alastor laid on what he recognized as the hotel roof for another hour. It took that long for the burning of his soul to fade away and for his speech to return. Truly his mother must be ashamed of him.

“Indeed her father’s daughter.”

Chapter 46: Karaoke

Chapter Text

Alastor
Imp City - 2nd Circle
Next Cleanse: 107

Tap-Tap-ta-Tap-Tap Tap-Tap

The apartment door with a little mail slot stating ‘M&M Residence - Blitz DOES NOT live here!’ opened, revealing the small male imp he’d seen on more than one occasion. Before Alastor could even interject the creature pulled on his bow tie, “Oh crumbs. Pardon me sir, but wouldn’t you happen to be the Radio Demon?”

Alastor stepped in past Moxxie, eyeing the apartment before settling on a particular pile of clothes and bag near the couch.

After their little tiffs, Miss Miller had run off.

Charlo— Charlie, was seethingly angry with him. The demon princess and Vaggie both scolded him. What's worse was Angel Dust looking down on him! That whor* of a spider had the gall to give him the cold shoulder! Husk only gave him a stern look but said nothing. But oh, the absolute worst was Nifty! The tiny demoness had picked up Miss Miller’s duties, complaining about having to cancel a date with the Goetic Prince fellow she’d become so fond of. Yesterday Alastor went to take over the cooking from Nifty but she snapped at him, telling him she’d do it.

All of this headache and fuss because Miss Miller!

No.

Not because of Miss Miller. Alastor had pointedly ignored that consuming feeling, doing anything and everything to keep it away. But now with everyone holding him responsible, he couldn’t.

Ought he just let Miss Miller traipse around with some scum of Hell willing to do Satan knows what to her?!

The thought left him sick and angry and maybe the tiniest bit frantic. Perhaps a smidge guilty. But only for not playing his cards correctly! Simply that and no more!

“That is what these derelicts call me isn’t it? A pleasure to make your acquaintance my impish fellow, you may call me Alastor!” He grabbed Moxxie’s hand in a forceful shake. “I must apologize for my abrupt entrance but I’m here to make sure a rather feral like employee of mine is—”

Well, what was he trying to determine?

Was she safe? No. Of course not! It would take nothing for a demon having a typically miserable day to send her back to Earth for another round of existence. The notion that she very well could be dead somewhere at this very moment sent his mind spiraling.

“You mean Mia?” Moxxie added.

“That I do!”

Despite the understanding in the imp’s eyes about who he was facing down, he straightened that tiny waist coat, eyes filling with resolve. “She’s mentioned you, sir. And I’m rather under the impression that you should let her be.”

Alastor craned over the imp, eyes glowing into dials, “Is that so?”

The smaller swallowed, beads of sweat forming down his brow.

“Now, dear fellow, I do believe that you’re prepared to make an unfortunate decision. Your sweet wife, how might she feel to come home a widow?”

Moxxie’s eyes glowed in turn, procuring a pistol from seemingly no where. He didn’t take aim though. No, the little imp seemed to stand taller. “You might kill me, but there are powerful enemies you’d make in the process. And she'd never forgive you for it. You know that. Why are you looking for Mia?”

Alastor snarled, the world darkening, “I need to speak with her.”

“No,” Moxxie squeaked out, trying to back away, “W-what you need to do, is apologize. You’ve the reputation of a gentleman don’t you? Perhaps you should act like one!”

“You’re testing me.”

“You're in love with her,” Moxxie countered.

There was a deafening scratch.

“So you are! Why bother looking for her otherwise? I heard her talking to my wife, they’re good friends now.”

Him?

In love?

With that fiendish bearcat? Always driving him up the wall? Keeping him busy and going mad trying to make sure she survived in this fantastically gruesome reality?

Alastor’s jaw was set hard into a murderous smile but he didn’t advance. What was there to gain from maiming this annoying possum of a creature?

“Sir would you like to sit down? Perhaps have a cup of tea? My wife and I have been married for a year now and it certainly isn’t without its challenges. I was quite nervous before asking my lovely Millie out!"

Alastor rolled his eyes and snarled. He didn't have the time for this!

"Mia told us you scared off her date. Something similar happened before Millie and I got together. You have be prepared to man up or let go, Sir. For her sake.”

Let go? Nonsense! She was his!

This f*cking imp.

The imp pulled out one of those infernal bricks, holding it out for Alastor to read some messages.

Alastor sneered at the extreme use of tiny faces and shapes but then there was a picture. The two Hellborn assassins and Miss Miller huddled together in the center of a dance floor, drinks in hand. And she looked happy. That boulder taking up space in him lightened. She wasn’t gored or decapitated or being feasted on by festering invalids.

And yet she'd not smiled at him for days.

“See, she’s safe. We are aware of her peculiar situation, though we don’t talk about it. It took a minute to catch on, but we did. No angel would need so much protection or training.”

Alastor released the long breath trapped in his chest and finally sat down. He procured his own coffee, suddenly feeling like a naive young man and hating every moment of it. He’d just got schooled by this imp barely a fraction of his age.

The wall decorations of music and records and other assortments like playbills caught his eye, trying to find some sort of distraction.

“A musician I suspect?” Alastor prodded. He wasn’t uninterested in the collection of items but it primarily reminded him of the date he’d stopped from happening. Or all the times he and Miss Miller weren’t at odds. She truly was a delightful pianist. There was now a very real chance he’d never hear her play again.

“Indeed I am! Was. It’s a hobby more than anything now. Assassin work provides a more stable income and work schedule. And I would call myself a firearms expert. I play the guitar most but I’ve quite the passion of opera! My spare time is spent composing.”

Alastor didn’t respond, trying to come to terms with the world around him. What she said earlier, about not having time left, bothered him. Of course she did carry a nasty curse of sorts but was it truly looming off in the distance?

“Maybe you can try to make things right with Mia. What would happen if you tried to be happy?”

Alastor’s head jerked around.

Happy ?

Wasn’t he happy? He could maim, torture, and eat as he pleased! He had power! Boredom hadn’t become an issue in quite a while. Not since …

Damnit.

Damn this tiny imp!

Alastor shot to his feet. “Where are they?”

Moxxie smiled, scribbling down an address. “Remember to be kind Sir.”

———

Alastor appeared across the street from the packed bar that heavily advertised ‘Kill-eoke Night! Fight, Sing, Party!’.

This particular establishment was popular in Hell for the last 200 years for staying on trend and constantly changing. He’d frequented it heavily after his own death until sometime in the 1950s.

Demons were already noticing him. It would do no good to cause a panic or have it spread he was here. Miss Miller was already so cross with him.

Anxiety bubbled up his throat. What if something were to happen to her? What if he was already too late? Did she have any of Rosie’s potions left? What if the Hellhound became inebriated and ate her?!

Twisting into the shadows he moved into the club, immediately disgusted with the modern, throbbing music. There had to be nearly 500 demons packed body to body. So many were so much larger than she was!

“ARE YOU READY?!”

The music cut out, the club erupting with cheers. A demon jumped from the balcony onto the elaborate stage that jutted out into the flood of demons.

“You ugly whor*s know the rules! Two up for a no holds barred match. Winner gets the stage then chooses the next opponents! LET’S GOOO!”

He hated to admit that it wasn’t the worst gimmick he’d seen in Hell. Given the venue it was rather clever. Two massive demons clamored onto the stage where they proceeded to brutalize each other.

Alastor found it particularly entertaining! Two souls fighting to their undeath just to perform! Perhaps he'd come watch on a different day.

Eventually a golem looking fellow won, throwing the loser’s torn off limbs to the euphoric crowd. Any enjoyable aspect of the show died when that ugly behemoth opened its gravelly maw.

For thirty minutes he scraped through the shadows enduring awful music and wretched smells, switching between the highs and hidden sections of the club.

Had they left?

Every moment that ticked by caused more gurgling in his gut. Alastor could only imagine the worst and barely heard the DJ announcing yet another match.

“This isn’t going to be a fair fight! Look at this little lady! How about we get her a weapon, yeah?!”

And there she was, climbing onto the stage, the Hellhound handing her two shots. Miss Miller took one and sat the other down.

The fight was underway before he could move. Miss Miller whirled around a metal pole to fight the gargantuan prehistoric demon. The pulsating crowd cheered for her defeat.

Miss Miller was a good fighter, he couldn’t deny that but what if she lost? Alastor could only imagine her severed limbs being feasted on, the demon crushing her head between its fists. He needed to do something.

Dim lighting made him imperceptible as his shadows stretched across the stage. They glued her opponent to the spot as the metal pipe struck its neck. She twisted into a jump, her leg colliding across the demon's face. Ever the showman, Alastor manipulated it to look as if she’d struck the beast off the stage, body crashing into giant speaker.

The ocean of demons quieted for a moment before blazing and roaring with her praises.

Despite his help, coupled with the glorious relief of her being safe, Alastor smiled.

Miss Miller soaked up the cheers before high-fiving her compatriots. She took the final shot and the microphone.

“OHHHH I MISS THE MISERY,” she wailed, music coming to life.

The shades created a hidden barrier on the stage, dragging any demon he deemed a threat into his pocket dimension. Beautiful women on a stage always curried the worst attention. But the more he begrudgingly listened to the modern, garbled music, the more guilt he felt.

Surely she couldn’t be this upset with him?

But he knew better.

That night … Alastor tried his damnedest to not think on it. He’d done a phenomenal job until now!

The softness and vulnerability, being so obedient and offering up her blood. Why had she? Alastor never considered it until now. Certainly Miss Miller was sweet on him, and yes he’d done well to take advantage of it, but what was he supposed to do?

How could he waste such a fresh, phenomenal snack?

The singing stopped, but the music still blared. She flew off the stage, racing through the crowd, screaming something he couldn’t hear. Damnit where was she going?!

Miss Miller drunkenly crashed through the alley door, startling three demons out of the throes of passion. Finally he heard her.

“Baxter!”

A demon rushed down the ramp but she vaulted over the railing, shoving him hard. The hood fell off as he collided with the pavement knees first. There was Baxter looking terrified, scrambling to his feet but trapped between her and an overflowing dumpster.

A knife gleamed in her hand as she glowered, “I want answers!”

His head shook, looking downward, arms pulled tight across his body. She shoved again and his back colliding with grubby metal.

Alastor noticed a type of brand on the side of his face.

“I’m sorry! I’m deeply, ashamedly sorry for that night Mia! I don’t know what came over me! It … I— Strange things were happening! I wanted t—” There was a sincerity in his voice but like all things, Alastor didn’t trust it. He trusted it even less as a lanky blue hand reached out palm up.

Like lightening he materialized between them. One arm tucked Miss Miller into his chest, using it and his body to shield her away. The claws of his other hand extended, piercing up through a screaming Baxter’s palm. “Another inch and I’ll be removing that hand for the rest of eternity.”

“Alastor! Let me go and leave me alone! Goddamn it, f*ck off!” She yowled, beat at his chest, kicking at his shins, surprisingly not using the knife.

Her jaw clenched shut at his dial ridden eyes and snarling mouth. Even so, she still writhed.

Miss Miller shoved, the strength of it coming from pure anger. Despite all that training it did nothing to move her from his protection. She settled for readjusting within his grasp and he was kind enough to lower his hand from her head.

Even still she didn't spare him a glance, turning back to Baxter who was inching his way around them.

This time her voice cracked, clearly hurt for the fiend who tried to debase and take advantage of her mere months ago! The way she looked at Baxter left him genuinely sick. He hated it for how it affected her. He hated it because he’d very well caused the same confused, saddened expression so many times. And yet it never whittled away at her determination.

“What happened that night Baxter?”

He shook his head furiously, blue face turning confused and sickly. “I don’t know! It all felt— I just couldn’t … it wasn’t your fault! I didn’t want it to happen!”

The brand scorched and burned, causing the fish to scream in pain, clawing at his face as he raced past them. She jerked against the crimson clad arms, struggling after the fish demon but Alastor anchored her to his chest.

“Let me go! That can’t be all of it! What was that?! BAXTER!” She screeched.

No one bothered coming to her aid. Any demon that recognized him fled. They were alone.

He went to berate her for this foolish drunken debacle! To rattle her silly little mind for putting herself into such a dangerous situation!

But the imp’s words rang between his ears, shutting down all of his usual rhetoric.

“I will do no such thing,” he informed gently. Even though his hold was nonnegotiable, it wasn’t tight. Alastor felt weary and wasn’t keen to warrant her anger or sadness towards him. Not anymore than previously that is.

Finally she stopped struggling, hands fisted into his sleeve. “Why can’t you leave me alone?”

Alastor despised that answer as it threaded through him. Feared it even.

His other arm came up around her at the sound of a slight whimper. There he clawed through her hair, trying to soothe her. Or perhaps he was soothing himself. There was no way to tell anymore.

“I believe it’s time to come home, yes?”

The tension in her body subsided and she nodded. Even escorting her through the portal to her bedroom door didn’t gain him a glance.

Chapter 47: Prey

Chapter Text

Mia
Hazbin Hotel Garden
Next Cleanse: 106

“Charlie is now privy to some of my misdeeds.”

Mia didn’t even groan that he was here. She didn’t care. She was too tired to care. For breakfast she’d sat out a bunch of granola bars and coffee then came out to mope.

“You deserve whatever’s coming your way.”

“You’ll find we are in agreement.” A twinge of defeat, perhaps even regret, filled his voice. The novelty of it broke her resolve, so she turned a hard stare onto him.

For once he didn’t smile. What a strange picture. His arms were crossed atop the stone banister, cheek nestled in the crook of his elbow, gazing off into the dawn. Deja vu prickled through her. In a near perfect mental overlay was the man from her dreams.

A thin man, handsome, sitting at a card table in a radio station.

He glanced at her and Mia turned away, only to hear him sigh.

“I am—”

“An absolute, irredeemable, narcissistic, intolerable ass.”

He huffed out a laugh, “You’ve become less creative.”

“Because I don’t care! Creativity requires thinking and you are the last person I want to think of.”

“I don’t know what to say to you Miss Miller.”

“Of course you don’t. You don’t know how to do anything that isn’t causing pain or suffering Alastor. I’m starting to think there is no way you were ever kind! That everything has to be a means to an end for you! I’m done. I’m done with you!”

Mia moved to stand. Why was she subjecting herself to this? No, not anymore.

But he placed his hand on her arm. Not pulling or clawing. Still no smile. “I’d like for you to wait. Just this once.”

Her eyes couldn’t roll any harder! But as she pulled her legs from between the stone posts, he whispered, “Please Michael.”

Saying her name hollowed out her stomach, causing her to pause. Fine! Damn him for being handsome and pathetic looking. She may as well try to solve her own mystery.

“When did you die?”

Alastor’s hand didn’t move as he answered, “1933.”

After the seal broke. At what point had they been married then? What had happened?

Mia struggled between wanting to be rid of him and needing to know the truth.

“Does the last name Burr mean anything to you?”

His face twisted, hand moving down to her wrist. Parts of her warred on how she now felt about her long sleeved shirt.

“Yes. That family over took the radio station I worked at in 1926. You’ve remembered something?”

Mia swallowed hard, casting her gaze down. “Did anything happen between then and your death that was particularly … bizarre?”

Clawed fingers drifted over the back of her hand, moving down in between her fingers, but not holding them. “In light of righting my wrongs, allow me to share something with you?”

To get answers, indulging him might be worth it. That’s all she wanted! Or so she tried to lie, even if she knew better. “Sure.”

Then he teleported them. When the magic settled, Mia found herself embarrassed all over again.

Alastor situated them in her hammock, nestling her against his chest and between his legs. Long red clad arms draped across her front, trapping her. Mia was akin to a small bug, crumpled in a large leaf. Engulfed.

Being like this while crying her eyes out or in agonizing pain was different! Dismissible as weakness or momentary insanity.

But this was sobering. Purposeful and intimate.

“Alastor!” She hissed, doing her best to wriggle away. Those lanky arms tightened around her. They couldn’t see the other’s face like this. Maybe that was for the best because she was flummoxed. She hated this! She hated it … but only because she liked it. All her complaints were lost to the mocking sensations.

“Please listen,” he requested. Today Alastor seemed determined to drive her insane. Mia begrudgingly settled into his chest, eyes closed.

“I don’t recall the date but one morning in 1928, I awoke with unfathomable power, a weak precursor to the ones I have. Perhaps I became a half baked demon then? I've spent years trying to learn how it happened. Our undiscovered connection is perhaps the catalyst don’t you think?”

A curse, Gabriel had called it. Eldritch magic she was able to use during her living years. Mia’s stomach twisted.

A decision she’d make all over again apparently, because she loved Alastor near a century ago. That’s why Gabriel was so livid with her. She’d mindlessly given a human, a serial killer no less, demonic power and sacrificed herself! That had to be it!

Right?

“Would you want to remember? If we’d met before?” Mia was desperate for him to remember her, as childish as that was. Maybe he felt that same heart wrenching pull for her. The same unprecedented, decades old desire.

“Of course not.”

It felt like a brick launched into her gut.

That absolute certainty in his voice shattered her budding warmth. Mia catapulted off him, unceremoniously freeing herself into the grass face first.

“Good talk Alastor,” she strained, stomping towards the hotel.

Mia’s composure deteriorated with every step. Hot tears stung her eyes.

All because of him!

What madness was this!? Why had that felt so wrong? Like betrayal. One moment he’s the person she confided in, found respite with, then in the same breath she felt like a toy! Suitable only at his leisure. There didn’t seem to be an escape from the cycle.

Was that what it was like before?

“Why are you upset so suddenly?” He called from behind, long legs catching up too quickly.

Anger erupted through her.

“What now Alastor?! How much would you like to torment me today hmm!?” Every muscle rattled as she jerked around to face him. He was a couple steps below her and nearly eye to eye for once. Instead of breaking her personal space as per usual, he handed her his handkerchief.

Mia snatched it, wiped her tears, then flung it to the ground.

“That was childish,” he said evenly.

“The only child here Alastor Laveau, is you!”

Genuine surprise crept up his face. “It seems you do remember something. Perhaps you’re s—”

“Who cares?! You wouldn’t want to know it anyway would you? I am a doll to you! A toy that you can pick up and play with. That you can manipulate and jerk around without any power or autonomy! Well that’s it! I believed we were friends! But I get it now! I am a fool and I don’t belong here …”

His head tipped sideways with a click. Mia had to wonder why she’d put up with it for so long. If it were anyone else, even Gabriel or Lucifer, she wouldn’t have.

Once upon a time she’d stood on his porch, bent over the railing, calling out his name. He’d stepped up on a lone brick to meet her bent form with a kiss. Like some New Orleans Romeo and Juliet. Mia felt nervous and nauseous.

Those people were dead and their feelings had died too.

How could this be the man she was so heart achingly in love with in her dreams? Realizing she’d loved him decades ago made the blossoming feelings for him now far worse. All these emotions …

Did he drive her to insanity back then as well?

Was he always so horrible and cruel?

Silently she cried, too tired to run anymore. There was no point in trying to escape him. To escape the feelings she had for him.

“I’ve hurt you.” The truth finally dawned on him. The handkerchief was magically clean and in his hand. Slow and gentle, he dabbed at the large frustrated tears on her cheeks.

“My manners have devolved over the decades, alongside an uptick of flippancy towards others. Especially you Michael. I meant what I said about not needing to remember … simply because it would hold no bearing on my ardor towards you now.” His voice trailed off, hands clasping behind his back as he finished wiping at her frustrated tears.

Ardor? What a laughably old word.

“What would you have me do Michael? If necessary, this can be out final interaction. I’ll leave you in peace while guaranteeing your safety. You won’t have to see me.” Now there was something cold and empty in her stomach. To just never talk to her again?

Didn’t he care?!

Everything crashed in her like a meteor and a glass house. A sob erupted up from her throat alongside a cackling laugh. How miserable she must have looked.

“What would I like from you? I want you to stop torturing me like this!” Mia screamed.

“Then tell me ho—”

She cut him off. This was her limit.

She officially boiled over.

Fists wrapped into his jacket and while she wasn’t strong enough to drag him to her, she closed the gap all the same.

Alastor followed in suit. Her out pouring of raw emotion resonated with him, kicking up all that he’d tried to bury.

Those sweet tears. Her frantic heart beat, flushed face. It all endeared him. Tantalized him. Alastor hated her growing aversion towards him. That was the opposite of what he desired. Now, in an effort to keep her, because he truly wanted to keep her close, he reciprocated the gesture.

Mia squeaked with surprise as one arm looped around her waist and the other caressed down the curvature of her neck.

Ah, she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. Every inch of her was melting into him, her knees buckled with a desperate whimper. Alastor hoisted her up with a jerk.

They pulled apart, but his grip did not loosen. Mirth spread across his face, ”Is this what you’ve wanted ma jolie proie?”

“What does that even mean?” She asked breathlessly.

Alastor’s expression turned dark, smiling with all the wickedness of Hell. A hand snaked into her hair, coiling it into his fingers.

“You,” he started, rolling hot breath over her ear, “ are my pretty prey. Ma jolie proie.”

Blood drained from her face as all thought drained from her mind. He’d been calling her that for months now.

“Darling Michael, do you disagree?” He taunted, the hand at her hip gripping harder. Hearing her name on his lips made her feel feral. She shivered with the knowledge of just what kind of pleasure she wanted from him.

“Tell me this is inappropriate. I’ll stop.”

No! She barely stopped herself from the pathetic plea. This was more whiplash! But this time she craved it. All the words caught in her throat, heat building through her body. A serious craving filled below her waist. “I - uh … Wh-”

“Offer going once,” he purred with that silky, molten Creole accent. Oh she was doomed now. So fantastically doomed.

“Twice, Chèr.” Alastor grazed her nose with his, lips grazing her cheek as he spoke. She was trapped.

The words wouldn’t come. Was this one of his magical abilities? To stop her dead, stunned by his presence?

“So it’s settled, ma jolie proie.” The grip around her waist was nonnegotiable and possessive. There was no resistance to be had. No one could tear her away from him now.

Mia wrapped her legs around his waist, threading her hands through his hair. Alastor thrummed as her claws scraped near his ears. But they’d have to wait. She couldn’t stop kissing him, oxygen be damned. Despite the past, this feeling belonged to her. He enchanted her. Tormented her. Excited her. Gave her freedom and safety. Made her laugh.

Mia liked who she was with him.

Just herself.

Chapter 48: Wife

Chapter Text

Husk
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 106

Husker sprawled across the couch this morning instead of behind the bar with his newest book ‘Il Nome Della Rosa’. As of late he gravitated towards Italian literature for reasons he'd not admit. Alastor walked in the front door from his morning stroll, singing and broadcasting an old French tune.

‘La lune trop pâle caresse l'opale de tes yeux blasés’

The cat snickered with a grin, openly eyeing the distracted radio demon, “Glad you guys made up.”

Alastor screeched to a halt, his smile strained, eyes nervous. Down right as nervous as Husker had ever seen the man.

“Making out in the garden with Wings? Risky. You’re lucky Legs or Princess didn’t see.” A few hours ago Husk was wandering around like usual if he couldn’t sleep. Shame no one else was up to see an actual phenomenon. No one would believe it otherwise.

Like always, Al had a gentleman’s response, looking to put his only friend back in place. “It appears I’m not the only one keen on the effeminate these days, yes?”

Both pulled up a bar stool as Alastor conjured up two cigars and some brandy. Husker picked up the brown smoke and took a puff, “Ain’t it a bit premature to celebrate moving on?”

“Husker, my good friend, surely you don’t mean to belittle our achievements!”

Husk sighed and took a drink. For a long while he’d held onto that piece of info from his childhood that concerned Al’s human life until he told Wings. Given the solitude of the morning and the Radio Demon’s good mood, it was probably safe to share what he knew.

“Not what I meant Al. Then again, always figured you never recognized me.”

Alastor turned on the bar stool, cigar hanging from his mouth with a perplexed look. “Recognize you from … ?”

“Heh. Makes sense. I died a lot older than you did, saw Nam all the way through.” The other man’s expression didn’t waver. “I was born to two hotel workers in 1916. When I was 12 a thin hep cat with glasses, his wife, and mother checked in to where my folks worked. I tried to steal his saxophone.”

“Husker! That whipper snapper was you? My time, you never brought it up!”

The cat grinned, looking bright eyed for once. Once upon a time a poor boy met a self made man, who at the nagging of his kind wife, taught him to play the saxophone instead of reprimanding him.

What confused him though was how Alastor glazed right over the word wife. As if he hadn’t even heard it.

“Yeah, that dame of yours kept you from tossing me off the roof.”

Alastor blinked several times. His face went from mildly perturbed to overly concerned. It was rare for them to be so open with each other but Husker decided this wasn’t the time for being touched. “I had no wife Husker. Not even a sweetheart! And certainly no dame!”

“That’s bullsh*t Al. I got a photographic memory and remember every number and book I’ve ever read. You. had. a. wife. I figured you never brought her up cause you might have offed her.”

That angered him, the implication that he could have murdered a woman, especially alive. Especially in the presence of his mother. Especially if that woman was allegedly his wife! And here he was near fuming over someone imaginary! “I took my mother for a trip to visit her cousin Alice. No one but the two of us!”

Husk could see small underlying panic. It was virtually unrecognizable but he trusted his own instincts and knew Alastor all too well. Leaning in, he asked slowly as if questioning a shell shocked man, “Al, how’d you get to that hotel?”

Husk asked because he knew the wife was the one driving the entire way. Alastor found driving cars to be problematic.

Red claws drummed worriedly on the brandy glass, taking a long pull on the cigar. Alastor’s words came out barely a whisper, “I don’t know.”

For Husker, the pieces fell into place rather easily. “Ya wanna know what I think?”

There wasn’t a verbal answer but Alastor looked at him expectantly. “I think something made you forget. You got that touched sense. I’ve seen it in guys. Like when you almost remember but get distracted at the last second. Or if you needed to forget it to survive. Wings reminds me a lot of that wife you had. Little too coincidental don’t you think Al?”

A long silence fell over them. So much so that Husk cracked open his book as they finished their drinks.

“And what might this so called wife’s name be?”

Husk shrugged, “Never got her name. Your momma called her Dou Fiy. You called her Bel Zanj.”

“And her appearance?” The words came out tight as if Alastor was perched on the edge of the world.

A paw made a generic mark in the air, “Up to here abouts? Big eyes. Smiling most the time. White. Made corny, awful jokes. Nosey as f*ck. A dead ringer for Wings when she ain’t pretending to be dead.”

Alastor’s mouth opened but Husk held up a hand, “I’ve know for a while about her and the brother.”

And then came the fall. Alastor swallowed, staring at the bar.

“Husker, you are far too astute for the rest of us.”

An entire bottle of vodka appeared and Husk nearly choked.

Alastor poured nearly three fingers of it into his glass, ignoring how it mixed with the aubergine residue. For this man to not care about mixing cheap booze and fine spirits floored the cat. Like an expert frat boy Al tipped it all back in one go then stood.

“The f*ck you going, Al?”

Alastor straightened his jacket and summoned the sentient microphone. The transatlantic facade was gone and there was a hint of an angry Creole’d accent, “I believe I’m due a chat with my brother-in-law.”

Husker raised his glass, “Bon lashans é a démin, mô zami.”

He didn’t speak Alastor’s mother tongue, but his polyglot abilities enabled him to pick up some phrases along the way.

Alastor flashed a confident smile, confirming just how deep their friendship actually went. Some part of him wondered how things could have been. If only life had allowed them to see old age together, accompanied by a gangster lady boy, an excommunicated angel, and exuberant Japanese girl.

Unfortunately, fantasies were just that. At least death was kind enough to give him good company.

———

Alastor
Pride City’s Administrative Center
Next Cleanse: 106

Alastor appeared from a shadow at Lucifer’s downtown office. A goat demon manned the front desk. “I’m here to see His Majesty.”

The goat eyed him with a smile, “Name?”

“I’m in no mood for games Bartholomew. This is concerning his relatives.” The small demon’s fur bristled and immediately placed a phone call. It was short with the only response being, “Yes sire, I’ll send him through. This way Master Alastor.”

They walked down a hall to the familiar double doors of the overlord meeting room. Next to it was a pitch black door. The goat gestured to its crystal knob with a bow, “Please step through Sir.”

Alastor stepped across the threshold into Lucifer’s personal office at their family estate, now overlooking sprawling gardens instead of Pride’s vast metropolis. “Alastor, ever a pleasant surprise! To what do I owe this impromptu visit? I take it my apple dumpling is fairing well?”

Lucifer’s bright demeanor and warm attitude was a facade because as soon as Alastor scowled, uninterested in their usual niceties, the king flashed in a knowing grin. “Took you long enough. Nearly a century, poor Mica. Would you like to do this the easy way or the hard way?”

With no invitation what so ever, Alastor sat down, crossing his legs. Lucifer shrugged and joined his guest, magically procuring a cup of tea and a cup of coffee. “Why did you not tell me? You had every opportunity and ability to rectify this and yet you’ve played this … this game! Why?”

Alastor sat enraged.

At first he was annoyed. His memories and mind should have never been subject to the whims of others! It reminded him of being powerless and helpless. For so long he’d not had a say and what’s worse was not knowing it either. Just a pawn in a game of giants. So now he would demand answers.

Lucifer raked a gloved hand through his hair then took a drink of tea. “Understand that I didn’t know Mica was alive after that stunt. Not until the Pagans got involved, hunting angels in the mortal realm. And I wasn’t the one to remove your memories!”

That wasn’t good enough! “Then who decided to pick and chose my memories? I’d be delighted to give them my regards.”

“Mica did. And for reasons I don't think you'd disagree with.”

Alastor’s eyes turned to radio dials, becoming entirely fed up with this nonsense game. Lucifer waved a hand and he could feel his powers being suppressed. “Apologies but I’m not interested in mangling my sister’s lover. We’ve forgiven each other for so many things, but I doubt she’d let me live down tearing you in two. Charlie would also be quite upset. You are her uncle after all.”

It stumped him, the idea of having a niece. The idea of family in general. Even more so to know it was Charlie. “I want my memories.”

“You might regret it.”

“So be it.”

Lucifer gestured to the coffee, “Drink up and be prepared for a rough ride. You may want to head home after this.”

Alastor hesitated though, “Were there children?”

Lucifer gave him a genuinely sympathetic look, “No, I’m afraid not. Nor would there ever have been.”

Those words left an unexpected pang in his chest. Alastor shook it off, taking back the coffee as he had the vodka. There were plenty of other issues to mull over.

He didn’t wait to be dismissed, turning to the shadows. For several hours he roamed and hunted the outskirts of Pride where the worst of the worst resided.

When was the last time he felt anxiety? Truly? His head was starting to tighten. A migraine started to burn through his skull and ears. If this ride was as rough as Lucifer warned, he would need to be home as to not carve down soul in his path. But he had things to do first.

Back at the hotel, he steeled himself. To think he’d had a wife.

Marriage always struck him as an impossibly wretched thing after watching how his mother suffered. And to Miss Miller?

Now it felt wrong to even consider calling her Miss Miller.

If anything she was now Mrs. Laveau.

His Mrs. Laveau. A scorching heat raked over his cheeks at the idea.

It was his mother’s maiden name. They took it once his father ‘disappeared’ and he’d spent all weekend carving a pitiful looking garden sign for his mother with the name.

“Michael,” he murmured, testing it on his lips again. It worked better than calling her by anything else, he felt. For five minutes he paced outside the hotel until a blonde head popped out of a window above him.

“Hey Al! What’cha doing?” Charlie chimed, as if she hadn’t threatened his entire philosophy beforehand. So this was what the other end of his treatment felt like? He despised it.

“Nothing at all, dear demon belle!”

Niece.

The word seared through his head and a wave of nausea hit him. Oh yes, he was in for a horrific time. “I am looking for Miss Miller, might you spotted her?”

— ... that we have a niece? Her name is Charlotte … —

Alastor startled, static blistering in the air, hearing Michael’s voice as if she were next to him. For the smallest of seconds he could smell her even.

Charlie narrowed her eyes and dropped down from the balcony, an expression of distrust and superiority greeting him. She stepped into his personal space, jaw raised, finger poking in his chest. “And why are you looking for Mia, Al?”

Alastor didn’t know his teeth could itch. But they did. With a little more showman’s flare than necessary, if only to mask his discomfort, he flourished, “I merely wish to make amends with Miss Miller, my girl! Just as you requested, no? With your guidance I found error in my devious ways!”

Her face dropped to expressionless for a moment and she blinked. Then her arms wrapped around his neck, squeezing in delight. “Oh Al! I’M SO PROUD OF YOU. Mia is really understanding and kind and I’m sure if you really mean it you guys can work it out! She’s in the dinning room playing chess with Dr. Antti. Now get in there and be a better demon!”

Maybe it was the lurching of his stomach, but her words made him want to retch. He could barely fathom what her reaction would be if she learnt the truth: that he and Michael had somewhat already made up. Nevertheless he hurried inside, if only to get away from Charlie.

Husker sat at the bar. They exchanged looks but all the cat did was snicker. Alastor would correct the feline’s demeanor when he had more time.

From the dining room door frame he found the world as Charlie described. Mia … Michael, his wife.

Ex-wife perhaps? They had died after all.

Surely they’d had a proper ceremony? What had his mother thought of it all?

Alastor was anxious to remember. Perhaps til death do us part didn’t apply here. The last time he’d been so nervous was when he decided to maim his father.

The faux demoness was playing chess with the resident doctor, engrossed. Each moved rapidly but his eyes were on her mouth as it twisted in telltale thought. A mouth that belonged to him. While not one for venereal pleasures, as she was undeniably beautiful, her body did not illicit such a response from him.

No, what enticed him the most were those moments she struggled, reacted, flushed, squirmed …

The taste of her blood and how she certainly tried to deny to him, but couldn’t bring herself to. The conquest and possession of her truly made him salivate. Death of his bachelor status ought be a terrible, mournful occasion! So why wasn’t it?

How, after a measly few hours was he so keen to accept this? This morning she'd hated him and now he was ready to make her his wife?! Madness. Utter, complete insanity. Alastor couldn’t understand himself but it was far from the horror he might have lauded to mere days ago! If anything, there came relief. She was very much his and in the most indisputable of ways.

But what possessed her to single-handedly destroy their history? Where had this power come from?

The chameleon noticed him first, mouthing soft words to his darling. Her head craned around. She smiled warmly with a small wave and excused herself from their game. The recognition of him on her face was a kind of sweetness he enjoyed. His Mia.

No, he found the modern nickname tasteless.

Michael, despite having a masculine ring, suited her. His Michael.

But then again, she was the first Michael so didn’t that make it a woman’s name?

“Hey,” she greeted.

Alastor watched her fidget, seemingly unsure of where to put her hands. A notion overcame him to rectify the issue. Claws slipped through inky fingers, bringing it to his lips. The action triggered that doe like stare he enjoyed so much.

“There is someone else here!” She whispered insistently. Alastor scoffed, flashing his most charming grin and leaning in too close.

“Why darling, I have eyes! Though if you’re so insistent on us being alone, perhaps I ought dispose of him?” Ah yes, her reactions were still as satisfying, if not more so even.

“No! No murdering the doctor! My god we need to talk about this. Can you please wait until I’m finished with this game?”

“If I must!” He pouted, escorting her back to the table.

With ease she fell back into focus. Sharing her attention left him uneasy. This sensation felt new and unbalanced, threatening to topple over his collected nature. Not once had he experienced such gnawing jealousy. Each time the doctor reached to move a piece Alastor nearly jerked her away!

Alastor rounded back on thinking of how to address her, needing to distract himself. Calling her his wife was out of the question for a multitude of reasons. At least for now. While he wanted to believe that it would simply be uncomfortable, it was more of how the label would make her an easy target to any and all his enemies.

My girl seemed ill fitting given he called Nifty by that. Maybe Michael but he didn’t want to share that intimate detail with the world. He’d heard Charlie call her Auntie. The mutt called her Mia. Perhaps that was why he found the nickname so abhorrent.

Lucifer had called her Mica but Alastor imagined that intruding on the King's personal affections for his sister would be problematic.

Michael always used his full name, just as his mother had. Never Al or the Radio Demon.

The moment the game ended, with his sweet genius the obvious winner because who else could be so clever?— he turned to the good doctor. “Certainly you mustn’t let us keep you from your high brow occupation good sir!”

Antti’s face strained with politeness, tugging at his cardigan sleeves. “I actually intended to speak with Mia for a bit about our game Alastor.”

His smile widened, eyes narrowing on the doctor. If looks could kill. “Of course, who doesn’t wish to speak with the resident genius?”

“Alastor I’m not a-”

“But indeed you are! Unfortunately I have my own business to attend soon and am in need of Miss Miller’s time. You understand doctor!”

Michael frowned at Alastor but sighed. When she smiled at Antti and reached her hand to shake his, Alastor felt an unwelcome sensation, akin to panic. As a scaly clawed hand reached for hers, he jerked her up and under his arm, turning them to the door. “Good day good fellow!”

“That was really rude!” She exclaimed. Alastor brushed it off, relieved that the man hadn’t touched her. It took every iota in him to not slice that hand off there and then.

“I believe my rashness is more favorable than the alternative, dearest.” Calling her that was fine, but it felt mundane. She was his and his common lingo needed to suit it!

“More favorable to what?!” Michael squirmed under his arm and he stopped dead in the hallway, certain no one was about. She tried to slip away but oh no. There would be none of that. His grip around her shoulder tightened as his other arm swept her legs up.

Her voice hitched and he snickered. Catching her off guard and stumping that sassy mouth was one of his favorite hobbies now. He brought her up nose to nose, flashing her as dashing a look as he could muster.

“My lovely Michael,” he purred, “if that filthy charlatan touched you I was going to remove his hand.”

He could nearly hear her heart beating harder as a faint redness spread across her cheeks. Over time he noticed that possessiveness did something for her. Alastor chuckled and pressed a kiss on her cheek, leaving her all the more dumbstruck.

“I - uh … Uhm, hi …” she muttered with a lopsided grin. Moving forward through a shadow he arrived in his office and settled into the arm chair. Alastor secured her to his lap, then rested his head on her shoulder. Michael instinctively filled in his gaps, wrapping her arms around him, nestling her head just so.

Several minutes passed before the next pang of a headache hit, a vision searing into his mind over reality. One where his office changed to what vaguely looked like an apartment, a flash of pink overlaying her demonic skin.

“I’ll be away for a few days.”

Her arms tightened. “Why? Did I do something wrong? Are you upset?”

Alastor shook his head and inhaled deeply against her skin. The last time he tasted her blood rushed back. Suddenly the crossing of his legs was uncomfortable.

“I have business to attend.”

Michael tried to jerk away, "I'm not doing this again Alastor! You regret it don't you?!"

"No!" He anchored her down, hand wrapping around her jaw. "No, I couldn't regret you. I tried to and failed miserably Bel Zanj. You. Are. Mine."

She settled down, nodding. Even so her expression lacked confidence.

"So what is it?"

“Please believe me. If I were able to stay, I would.”

“Liar. Does Luci have something to do with this?” Her tone turned hard, her expression demanding.

“My dearest,” he said, twisting a white lock around his claw. Calling her dearest felt too generic. Cliche.

He swallowed, an unprecedented phrase scorching through his mind.

“Mô Moche.” This one brought an enchanting smile to her lips. He felt satisfied. Even without his impending memories, calling her his half felt terrifyingly appropriate. She was very much the antithesis of him. The missing pieces that complimented him and made him whole. “I will be back”

Her smile faltered. “Why Alastor?”

He steeled himself, resolving to give her some bit of the truth. He needed to know first. She probably wouldn't like the idea that they'd been married. “I need time to understand this. I’ve been a bachelor for near a century.”

This time the smile disappeared entirely as she turned defeated and guilty. It pained him to watch her wilt so quickly because his words.

Michael whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Alastor did the only thing he could to reassure her and dissuade her fears. His hands rested on her cheeks, thumbs gently brushing at the apples. Michael didn’t resist as he pulled her mouth to his. They melted together. While he never felt the need to be physical, he felt the need to comfort and reassure her. It didn’t disgust or repulse him. Not for her. Alastor didn’t mind it as long as she solely belonged to him.

This kiss was not like their first or second. He could feel her urging him. A silent request of indulgence. Alastor wasted no time, ignoring his throbbing temples. Time was running out though. He pulled her hard against his chest letting the last of the kiss deepen.

But it had to end. “I will be back. Stay in the hotel and stay near Charlie. Or Husker. Even Angel Dust. Please?”

She frowned again, but nodded, "I'm trusting you. You understand that don't you?"

"I do. You're a gracious being for it Mô Moche."

They sat as long as he could stand it. Eventually the pain became unbearable. Begrudgingly she stood up, looking torn. His claws ran through her hair with a kiss to her forehead. "I'm coming back for you."

Chapter 49: Stolen

Chapter Text

Mia
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 104

Mia’s leg bounced wildly, unable to focus on her paperwork. Alastor’s request left her beguiled and worried, but happy too. It didn’t feel like a rejection, but why leave in such a hurry after being so thoroughly delightful? She chose to trust him though. Oh God what if he made a fool of her again? What if he was gearing up for the ultimate humiliation?!

But it felt so real. Like a balm to a burn.

Unlike all of her past promises to stay safe or behaved, this one she intended to follow to the letter. He’d return tomorrow and …

The and part was particularly fuzzy but they’d figure it out somehow. Maybe they could go see Lucifer? Obviously he knew far more. Lilith could tell her! That’s what they would do then!

Charlie was more than happy to spend extra time with her at least. She’d slept in the girls’ room last night, gabbing and watching musicals.

So consumed with worry, she never recognized the doctor waving a hand in front of her face. Mia gasped than laughed, holding a hand to her chest. “Sorry Antti, off in my own little world!”

He smiled, reaching to shake her hand, “I’d like to congratulate you on our game. Perhaps you’d join me for a rematch in my office?”

Mia stood and shook his hand. “Yeah. Get my mind off of all this paperwork. Uhm, I have a question. Ignore me if it’s overstepping, but how’s Angel doing?”

Antti gave her a steady look before smiling soft. “I’m not supposed to say anything but I can see you truly care about his well being. All I can say is he’s doing well.”

A bucket of relief dumped over her head as she smiled, “I’m so glad. I was so worried! He’s been through so much.”

The doctor didn’t add anything concerning Angel but pivoted instead, “You seem particularly stressed Mia. Everything alright?”

She laughed nervously and rubbed the back of her head, “Just a lot on my mind recently. Sorry about Alastor the other day. He had to leave on business and needed to speak with me about the budget beforehand.”

He opened the door and gave her a sympathetic nod. “Yes, I’ve had my fair share of interactions with him. Quite the eccentric sort, entirely impatient if you don’t mind my saying so.”

“Not at all. You hit the nail on the head.” Mia sat on the patient’s couch opposite him as he set out a chess board and pieces.

“So how are you doing Mia? I know I’m here for the clients but I believe the staff need a chance to vent as well.”

As much as she could use a therapist right now, there was too much privileged information. Still, that didn’t mean she couldn’t talk about a couple things. “I really miss my friend. Her name was Gemma.”

They started the game and fell into a perfectly polite conversation about friendship. Neither of them said anything remarkable. Mia glanced at the clock and gasped, “I’m so sorry I hadn’t realized it was so late!”

“No it’s not a problem. If you’d like we can pick this game up some other time?”

He really was a kind, calm man. “You’re a remarkably understanding person Antti. I’d like that very much. Goodnight.”

———

Antti
The Hazbin Hotel
Next Cleanse: 106

Antti took the magic amulet Epaphus gave him and easily phased through Mia’s door. Music and steam filled the air, alongside the heavy scent of oil. Thankfully, she wasn’t in the tub yet. Procuring a soaked, naked woman wasn’t on his agenda today. Just an unconscious, clothed one.

He held up the spray bottle of magical knockout gas behind her head and called out, “Mia.”

She whipped around and he sprayed her in the face. She coughed and sputtered, grasping for her throat. Antti moved through the bathroom wall out of arms reach and shut her in. Seconds later the gasping stopped, punctuated by a dull thud. Now she was out and crumpled to the floor.

Next he needed her phone. Thankfully it sat right on the coffee table. He plugged in a little device and waited 15 seconds as instructed. And that was all. Now he just needed to leave.

Antti texted a mysterious number and laid his phone down. Instantly the two of them were sucked through the screen to a room he’d never seen before. There waited Epaphus and the overlord sinners he knew as Vox and Valentino.

“Is this her?” Epaphus asked.

Antti nodded. “Yes, this is the woman who conspired to imprison Mister Valentino.”

Over the weeks with Angel Dust, he was able to learn who was responsible for Valentino’s capture. The spider demon had magic blocking his ability to talk about it but the spider kept a dairy at the doctor’s behest to help with therapy. Poor thing was never the wiser that he'd betrayed the woman.

Epaphus nodded and patted the shorter man on the shoulder. “Very good work Antti. Is there anything you need from the hotel?”

He shook his head, “No sir.”

“Then you’ll join us from now on. Now, as for our agreement?”

Vox handed over several files to Epaphus. “I’ve narrowed it down to these demons and they’re being comfortably held in a waiting room. If she’s not there we’ll try again.”

The Hemitheos scowled, flipping through the files of women who might be his queen, “If she isn’t you’ll be the first to know.”

Antti followed his master through a portal, leaving the unsuspecting demoness with the sinners.

Chapter 50: Tartarus

Chapter Text

Mia
Unknown
Next Cleanse: 105

Silent.

Dark.

Mia tried her damnedest to see but it was too much. Her eyes felt heavy, unfocused, and they burned.

Her skull throbbed as if a knife was being pushed in and twisted slowly. Trying to move her head was pointless. She was so weak that it just stayed limp where gravity demanded. Whatever Antti had used was doing its job.

An uncountable amount of time passed before she became lucid enough to feel the searing, stinging, ripping sensation running the length of each arm. Other than barely reaching the ground with her knees, her entire body weight was being supported by whatever shredded into her limbs. The next thing she noticed was how heavy and dull beating her heart felt in her chest.

Maybe, just maybe, a demon could have with stood this torture and healed afterwards. Whoever strung her up like this didn’t seem to understand how human she was.

Nausea finally hit her. There was nothing to throw up but her stomach muscles contracted anyway. A small wheezing sound escaped from her chest. It was then that she heard something stir about.

Lights came on and it felt like acid in her eyes. A hand wrapped around her neck with enough force to hold her up, releasing some of the weight from her arms. How sad was it that this felt like a merciful gesture? The creature’s other hand pried her eyelids apart. She couldn’t make anything out. There were just blurs of blinding yellow surrounding a darkness in the middle.

The hand released her neck.

A dull, sickening rip was audible. Sharp pain made her nerves ache to her toes. Mia dropped what felt like a couple inches onto her knees, knowing that the tearing had been the skin, muscle, and fat of her arms. Fresh blood pooled onto the floor next to her.

“How long has it been Seraphim? You look terrible!” Laughed an unfamiliar voice. Mia could make out five distinctive blurs. Three huddled close by, there was the one currently tormenting her, and finally another to the back.

“You know, I distinctively remember your ilk bleeding gold! To think your kind can be made human! This is an astonishing development! Come now, wake up.”

Mia’s head cracked to the side, a fist drilling into her jaw. Oh God, she’d just swallowed a tooth.

“Zeus, you’ll kill her like that,” came an unfamiliar, deep voice from the back.

“Good! Stupid bitch ought get what I got!”

“Shut up!”

Valentino? Vox?

Her vision cleared only slightly, enough to know that the three figures were distinctively human shaped.

“Hades, don’t you have any fun?”

Mia understood who had her and why. She’d stomped on Valentino’s pride, ripped away his favorite toy, and caused a deep cut in his check book. And now the pagans had just delivered her to her doom.

“Let's not get carried away. We can make use of her, perhaps exact some revenge for old transgressions? Human or not she’s a unique specimen and valuable pawn.” The dark being was the only logical one in the room apparently. The other’s simply had her torture on their minds.

The dark one, Hades, came over injecting something into her neck. The sting didn’t register compared to the shredding pain and deep throbbing.

———

Awake again, Mia jerked upright, finding her limbs free enough to move. Pink limbs at that. All of her jewelry was gone. f*ck, her glaive.

“Don’t. I understand wanting to run away but the healing magic is still working through your body. Your trinkets are in the dresser. It would be wise to wear your disguise here.”

Hades sat in on a couch, tapping away at a cellphone. Mia stopped, taking stock of her body. She was ok, as if she’d just had a bad dream. But the illustrious, open room and Greek god told her otherwise.

“Where am I?”

“My palace in Tartarus.” Outside the wide arching windows was a beautiful, mythical looking world.

“And why am I here?”

“You’re a prisoner.”

She sneered, slowly moving to the edge of the bed. “Seems pretty nice to be a prison.”

“Far nicer than where the mortal Valentino was kept, I can assure you. Would you rather me take you to the labs where we keep the other angels?”

Her stomach went cold. This was everything Gabriel had been working against, right in front of her face. Her head shook.

“Good. Now, Seraphim, rest up. And please don’t try to escape. If you do, you’ll make both of our lives unfortunately difficult.” He stood up, striding for the door.

“Stop!”

Hades didn’t though. Mia pulled on her jewelry, taking Lucifer’s key, frantically knocking it against a closet door. But nothing happened.

f*ck she was actually in trouble.

Despite the gravity of her situation, she was worried about Alastor.

Chapter 51: New Orleans

Chapter Text

New Orleans, 1927

Virginia wasn’t kind in regards to summer humidity but New Orleans was a new beast entirely.

Michael fanned herself, sipping mint tea on the veranda. The willows, oaks, and gardens surrounding the plantation house were sprawling and gorgeous despite the oppressive heat.

Two weeks ago she arrived to the estate her father inherited from a great-great-uncle or something. Michael lobbied hard for the estate’s small apartment in the French Quarter and now waited to receive the keys and address from her younger brother, Ernest.

“Michael, some decency please!” The man vaguely waved at the skirt she had hitched up around her thighs to cool off. She rolled her eyes and pulled the cotton back past her knees. He would have never survived in soldier’s encampment.

“Hello to you too Ernest.” The man plopped next to her, drinking from the heavily condensating glass of tea.

“I swear, I don’t think I’ll ever adjust to this heat,” he huffed, using his hat as a fan. “Perhaps I’ll start wearing your dresses!”

“Of course, help yourself anytime. My keys now, brother.”

He handed over a small parcel and she stuffed it into her purse. Michael slipped back into her heels, trying to tame her hair. “Surely you don’t intend to go there alone! Michael, at least wait for Elmer or Edward to take you. It isn’t safe for an unwed woman downtown. What of the drunks and unsavory folk?”

Prohibition was an absolute mess of failure, only driving up prices and making for famous bootleggers.

Michael spared him a level look. Ernest was certainly the most talkative of the triplets, but also the sweetest. She grinned, ruffling his hair. “I’m being accompanied by Gabriel. He’s meeting with father currently and then we’re to set out.”

Ernest looked unimpressed. None of her human brothers liked Gabriel and for good reason. Gabriel worked as a brilliant, stern business partner to her father. To them it seemed he was perfectly situated to marry their elder sister and take over the family estate. If only they’d known she would be gone sooner rather than later. The thought of her impending death was barely a bother, but she’d enjoyed this life so far.

This was the first time she made an effort to know her family given the lack of war or plague. She’d started studying or helping her father, letting it consume most her time. Her last life was lived in cruel, iced over village. She missed the sprawling, beautiful winters though.

Then stepped out Gabriel, looking fresh as ice. Angels were unaffected by the weather which meant he looked pristine each day.

“Are you ready Michael?” He asked, extending her his arm.

“Tell Evelynn I’ll be back for dinner. Goodbye Ernest.” Evelynn was her birth mother and an overall difficult, status obsessed woman.

Soon enough the pair went strolling. Gabriel refused to get in an automobile despite their success and popularity. He found Michael’s willingness to try them problematic so she never bothered.

“An apartment downtown? So modern Michael. What next, opening a bank?” He chuckled, giving her a small nudge.

She shrugged, watching the mixtures of old and new pass by. How long had it been since she experienced a twinge of excitement? “I might attend the college. I’ve read several text books in the last month. I’ve read last years publications from the Nobel Laureates for Physics. Do you think Our Father ever thought of what electricity truly was?”

Gabriel’s face fell when she mentioned their Heavenly Father.

Anytime she tried talking about their lives or what used to be, he shut down. He’d not said anything useful or insightful since 1702. It didn’t help that he also had no interest in science or human ingenuity.

They came to the street car stop and Gabriel looked uncomfortable. “Will you be fine on your own?”

“But of course,” she nodded, a shadow twisting and licking in her palm.

He snatched her hand with both of his, horrified as if she’d just turned up out of the trash. “You cannot use that blasted curse.”

She’d only done it to be petty, feeling guilty now. Gabriel hated her oddly acquired Eldritch powers. Neither could understand why she had them and he believed it to be a curse. Asherah’s temptation to lead her astray.

Michael didn’t agree but she’d stopped fighting with him about it decades ago. His hands dropped from hers a little too quickly. With a weak smile and a wave she said, “Have a good day at work Gabriel.”

And like that he was gone, whisked away to whatever it was he refused to tell her about. To think she’d went from absolute Heavenly Commander to dangerous loose end.

Stepping on the street car immediately banished the thought. This city full of electricity, jazz, heat, spices, and life excited and enthralled her. At the moment, she wasn’t interested in her apartment. Michael was free to do as she pleased.

———

Earlier her father had mentioned Elmer picking up paperwork from a newly acquired business.

A radio station she believed.

She asked street band of jazz musicians where she could find the building and they were head over heels to oblige her. Three blocks over it was easy to spot the corner radio building by the massive metal tower on top. Everything she’d read on the electromagnetic spectrum came rushing back.

The station’s office was situated on the third floor. The glass window read ‘WKNO: Radio Operations and Broadcasts’. Michael walked in the empty, half made lobby then meandered down the narrow hall of frosted glass and doors, hoping to find someone.

At the end of the hall was a solid wooden door with a red light labeled ‘Red Light: Broadcasting - DO NOT ENTER’. The door next to it read ‘Observation Room’.

Michael let herself into the latter, finding it no more than a lounge with a large glass window looking into the broadcasting area.

And at last, she found a human! Though this one was preoccupied.

A radio played the man’s broadcast so she decided to stick around. Michael was enraptured by the man’s performance. His voice was remarkable and consuming, but watching the way he gestured and moved while talking, she found herself grinning.

After an anonymous sign off, the man started furiously scribbling down notes, not noticing her. Even as he strolled right past the observation room, he’d not looked up.

Then the footsteps stopped.

The radio host walked backwards head peeking around door frame, pencil fumbling from his ear to the floor.

Michael smiled, standing to greet the man as he came in front of the door frame. “I’ve not watched a radio broadcast before. You sir have a remarkable talent.”

His eyebrow quirked up and he slowly bent for his pencil, not leaving the doorway, not taking his eyes off her. Michael’s smile faltered, realizing she’d gotten carried away with her self made excitement.