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Many in Hell (okay, most in Hell) were under the impression that their Princess was a delusional simpleton, unable to understand something as straightforward as how her own domain worked. Her little interview hadn't helped matters, even if it did reassure them that she could at least throw a decent punch. Really, Charlie only cared about her reputation in as much as it might attract new patrons to the hotel. She didn't need her people to love her, she just needed them to be safe .
(She'd said that to Vaggie once who promptly broke into a choking laugh. “Charlie. You need everyone to love you. All the time . You're just lucky you're really fucking good at it.”)
If strangers cursed her out on the street, that was fine. If her first soon-to-be-redeemed soul thought this was a hilarious fuck-up with only free board making it palatable, that was also fine. If her own father laughed awkwardly at the mere idea of her success that was fine because Charlie could see the good underneath their caustic words; the fear and vulnerability buried beneath their dismissal. Criticism rolled off her back like magma on a fire-duck and if shouldering the disdain of her community was the price of seeing them saved, Charlie would gladly pay it.
...Although, she did wish her closest companions had a little more faith in her. Not about the hotel necessarily, but just that she had a functioning brain she put to use.
“Your... goats?” Alastor said, tipping his head to narrow eyes at them.
“Goat-dragons,” Charlie corrected, not sparing him a glance. “Mom made them when I was younger, to act as my bodyguards when she and Dad weren't around. You would not beeeliiieve how many assassination attempts there were when I was a kid. Dad even dyed my hair once to try and give me a low profile and that was—well! You don't need to see those pictures. The point is that I didn't just let you in all willy-nilly, heedless of my own safety, or whatever it is Vaggie's been saying. If you'd meant any real harm they would have torn you to shreds.”
Charlie was in the process of re-styling the seating area for a slumber party that night. Which throw pillow better conveyed emotional safety to share one's most intimate secrets past 3:00am? Blue or yellow? Pursing her lips, she bounced from foot-to-foot a couple times before chucking both against the growing mound. After a good fluffing she nodded. Both. Both was good.
When she turned, Alastor was staring.
He'd only been at the hotel about a week but Charlie had noticed that he did that a lot. It wasn't just the fixed smile that lent weight to his gaze; he didn't blink . Leaning against Husk's bar with that microphone tucked under one arm, Alastor looked so at ease that Charlie knew it was all an act—the real Alastor, tentacled and laughing maniacally, simmered just beneath the surface. She'd have felt threatened by it if not for the fact that, well, Razzle and Dazzle were here.
Charlie shot them a quick smile. They'd piled on the carpet together, a mess of limbs and horns. Snores and the occasional 'meep' emerged to fill the silence.
“Well now, stop the presses! Our little lady is just full of surprises.” Alastor's grin stretched even further, seeming to creak along its edge. His hands connected in a shattering clap. “We haven't known each other very long, my dear, so I'm sure this is just a misunderstanding—entirely forgivable, I assure you—but I thought you just implied that these lazy, miniature vermin are capable of besting me?”
“ Don't talk about them like that! ”
The words snapped out of Charlie before she could consider reigning them in. She even saw a little smoke wafting upwards, a sure sign that if she let those emotions stew any longer her true form would burst through.
Fucking hell, Charlie, you're giving orders to the
Radio Demon
now?
Oh Lord. It was never good when her thoughts starting sounding like Vaggie, but Charlie stifled a groan as she admitted that yeah, that probably wasn’t selling the whole 'Capable of handling tough situations without needlessly endangering herself' vibe she was going for.
Alastor just smiled though. It was hard to tell, but Charlie thought he might have been pleased with her temper. There was something in the way he leaned forward onto the tip of his staff; off balance to start a fight, but magnetically drawn into the fray. “Easy now, darling! I never took to baloney as a child—horrific excuse for a meat, truly—but I can recognize it when I hear it. So you care for these... creatures? Well off course you do! A sweet, silly thing like you is bound to get attached to all manner of beings. The delightful,” he dropped into a sweeping bow, “—and the drab.” Alastor's staff kicked outward at the end of the gesture, landing on Dazzle's back leg. The goat-dragon gave a sleepy grunt at the disturbance but otherwise didn't stir.
Really, Alastor had hardly touched him, but Charlie still felt the tip of one fang digging painfully into her bottom lip. She took a deep, fortifying breath to cleanse herself of negativity. She was just stressed about the new Extermination timeline. And the sleepover. And the fact that the Radio Demon was now living down the hall. Just the other day she’d chastised Angel for a barrage of angry texts he’d sent without thinking and now here Charlie was, nearly flying off the handle for similarly petty reasons. Razzle and Dazzle were fine. She was fine, and her people were going to be fine if she had anything to fucking say about it. Charlie summoned up a smile to match Alastor’s own.
“You’re right,” she said. “An Overlord like you didn’t exist back when Mom made them, so she couldn’t have foreseen how powerful you are. I mean yeah, you’d probably win... even if there are two of them. But!” Charlie hastened to add, waving her hands as Alastor’s head cracked sickeningly to the right, “The point is that these hypotheticals are silly. Why do you care so much about who’d win in a fight? You’re never going to fight them. You don’t want to hurt me.”
Alastor’s head, still staring at her from its unnatural angle, began to vibrate oddly while the chest beneath it hitched. It took Charlie a long moment to realize that he was laughing. Not his usual, staccato Ha, Ha, Ha , but something that felt more genuine, despite the fact that no body—not even a demon’s—should be moving like that.
“Ah, what an entertaining bunny you are,” he said, a slight wheeze mixing in with the radio static. “Charlie dearest, have you forgotten that I was a serial killer? Am currently a hunter of Overlords? A keeper of souls? Are you truly under the misguided belief that I wouldn’t hurt you?”
It was terrifying how fast he didn’t move. Charlie watched as Alastor took his time lengthening each limb—spine cracking, joints tearing until they were only held together by sickly, glowing threads—and the tentacles he summoned were lazy as a house cat, inching towards her like they knew it didn’t matter how fast she ran. They’d catch her. The static grew to a high-pitched whine that hurt her ears and the very reality around Alastor began to distort, glitching horribly. One elongated limb reached out with claws glinting in the newly darkened foyer, fingers twitching, itching to rip out her throat.
Charlie blinked. She pursed her lips, gesturing emphatically to Razzle and Dazzle who still lay snoring on the carpet. “Are you listening to me? They’d have ripped you to shreds if you meant any real harm .”
She could see the exact moment Alastor gave up the performance. He froze, the very air particles freezing with him, and a pin-print of light sprang back into his eyes.
“I beg your pardon?”
“It’s not—you can’t—” With a frustrated groan Charlie pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. “It’d be easier to show you.”
She trotted through the bits of distorted reality (shivering because ugh ) and ducked under the long line of Alastor’s leg. His eyes tracked her as Charlie scooped a goat-dragon into each arm and nudged the hotel door open with her hip. Once outside, she slapped a drowsy Razzle onto her shoulder and cupped a hand over her mouth.
“Hello there!” she called to a passing demon.
“Who the fuck you yelling at? I’ll kill you, bitch!”
“Will you?” Charlie’s gaze slid to Alastor, now back in his everyday form, curiously peeking out from the doorway. “You know what? That sounds great! Really swell! Please come and kill me.”
The demon stopped in his tracks, staring incredulously up the hill at her fidgety form. “What? Fucking what ? You have a death wish?”
“Yes! Absolutely. Will you come kill me pretty, pretty please? Uh... you ugly, short-sighted asshole? Sorry, sorry sorry ,” Charlie muttered into Razzle’s fur.
“Oh, you’re a whole new level of crazy—”
The demon was adjusting his glasses with one claw and pulling out a clever with the other when Charlie felt Alastor’s energy at her back. She didn’t need to turn around again. The horror that descended on the demon’s face and his hasty exit said it all.
Razzle and Dazzle were now alert, tails thumbing, but neither made a move to go after the guy. Charlie released the breath she’d been holding and promised to write at least five Kindness Notes to leave around town tomorrow.
When she did finally look Alastor was twiddling his fingers at the demon’s retreating form. His eyes, however, were still latched onto Charlie.
“What an interesting way you have of entertaining yourself, my dear. I whole-heartedly approve! Let me take you out on the town—Cannibal Town, that is. You can offer your limbs to the first ravenous child we meet.”
Charlie cracked a smiled. “Uh... maybe later? I didn’t just do that for kicks, you know. The point is we’re living in Hell .” She ignored the way his eye twitched at the obvious statement. “Alastor, how many times a day do you think people threaten to kill me? Pull weapons? Or yes, try to eat me? If Razzle and Dazzle attacked everyone who simply appeared threatening I never would have opened the hotel because there wouldn't be anyone left to save. That guy? All bluster. I’m not sure how Mom did it, but they’re capable of sensing true intentions. They’ll only transform for someone with a real, sustained desire to kill me—or, I guess discorporate me—and the rest? The rest I can handle myself.”
“Hmm.”
Alastor bent forward, inspecting Dazzle closely. The goat-dragon panted happily in his face. “Fascinating! Powerful too, though I’d expect nothing less from the likes of Lilith. I must say, the confidence you hold in your own abilities is simply inspiring given what I’ve seen from you so far.”
Charlie blinked, trying to decide if she’d just been insulted or not.
“You remain delusional, darling,” he clarified, patting her head. Alastor’s grin widened at her scowl and he only pulled back when Razzle gave his fingers a quick lick, his static hissing like a cat. Charlie had the strong urge to chuck them both at the demon and let him suffer the fate of endless cuddles and sticky kisses.
She didn’t though. She was merciful.
“That’s why though,” Charlie said, shrugging so that Razzle had to dig his claws into her shoulder to stay balanced. Ow.
“Why what?”
Alastor had clearly lost the train of their conversation—or was pretending to—inspecting his own claws with the air of a bored Valley Girl.
“Why... hmm. Okay, real quick: what’s an old-timey way of saying someone is full of shit?”
Charlie blinked up at him innocently, probably overdoing it a tad, but after a week of hearing him disparage her dreams as “wacky nonsense” she couldn’t bring herself to care. Not too much, anyway.
Alastor’s eyes narrowed. Definitely suspicious, though not enough to deny her.
“Why, I’d say the sod is full of hot air! A far classier image than the one you’ve just conjured.”
“Then you’re full of hot air, Alastor.” Charlie grinned. “This whole shtick you’ve got going where you pretend like you’re just one insult away from killing us all; the super evil Overlord who could go on a rampage at the slightest whim? Yeah, I get why Vaggie is concerned, but that’s not gonna work on me.” She ran her hand gently through Dazzle’s hair, eliciting a purr. “You can toss out threats and transform all you want, but if you’d ever actually intended to hurt me, even just once... they’d have reacted. They’d have defended me, whether they could win against you or not. I didn’t let you stay because I was desperate for your help—although, ha, I kinda am. I let you stay because I trust you.”
The last was delivered softly and Charlie dared to lay a hand on his arm, oh so briefly. Alastor didn’t react. He appeared to be seeing something past her, the dials of his eyes ticking erratically.
The spell was broken when Razzle let out an explosive sneeze.
“Oh shit that reminds me! I need to pick up some almond butter for Sir Pentious. Apparently his human body was allergic to peanuts and he’s still pretty sensitive about it? And Angel made me swear I’d have peanut butter on hand for the s’mores if he was going to participate in the sleepover. I need to hit the shops before they close—can you get the other supplies ready while I’m gone? Thanks, Alastor, you’re a lifesaver!”
Charlie pelted down the hill with Razzle and Dazzle flying around her heels, both of them yipping at the prospect of a walk.
Alastor remained standing there for a long time after she’d gone. At a glance he looked the same as he always did, though if anyone had gotten close enough they would have caught the sound of a radio continually switching stations.
There appeared to be no connection between the clips. Except, perhaps, that each voice spoke in a tone of furious confusion.
***
The smell of popcorn and cheap booze was sickening.
Alastor’s grin never faltered—obviously—but there were small tears in the couch armrest that spoke of his disgust. In all his years alive and dead he’d never had the pleasure of attending a ‘slumber party’ before and the newfound honor was proving to be a dubious one. Sticky sweets, snacks, and spirits covered every available surface, thrown into truly unholy combinations as Husker passed his (admittedly substantial) limit. If they all hadn’t already been damned, Alastor suspected that making caramel popcorn whiskey floats would have done the trick. The other guests were decked out in their finest nightwear, resulting in them witnessing more of Angel than Alastor had ever wanted to see. Their sanguine Princess had led them through insipid card games, a pillow fight—which did not, apparently, allow for weapons or demonic beasts. Mores the pity—and worst of all: a production shown through that horrible picture box. If they craved entertainment he might have offered her the use of his radio, but...
Well.
In truth, nothing that had occurred here tonight had truly tested Alastor’s patience. If anything, this was merely a distilled version of their collective sins; hardly surprising. He had merely been...out of sorts since their little spat that afternoon. Though it was nothing Alastor couldn’t handle, of course.
(A block away six of Hell’s dictation speakers suddenly crackled to life, causing everyone in the vicinity to freeze, warily lifting their heads. Rather than the usual draconian drivel, however, a sustained, static-y growl began to sound.)
“They’re called Kindness Notes,” Charlie was saying, displaying her stack of colored paper like a trophy. “I got the idea from this awesome human website called Reddit that must just be filled with puppies and rainbows and—”
(”Think we should tell her?” whispered Cherri.
“Yeah, but only after she’s made a bunch,” Angel snickered.)
“—and so it’s the PERFECT activity for a redemption sleepover! Remember: there is no wrong way to go about a creative project, so have fun with it! I’ve got glitter gel pens and stickers—those are scratch and sniff!—and decorative hole punches and more stickers and ribbons and—”
“Stickers?” Husk asked, tipping his glass her way. Charlie nodded with the speed of a bobble-head doll.
“Exactly! Does anyone have any questions?”
“Yeah, I’ve got one.”
“Great!”
“How much sugar you had, kid?”
“Sooooo much!” and the stack would have gone flying if not for Vaggie’s quick reflexes.
“Alright, I’ll take it from here.” She dropped a quick kiss onto Charlie’s rosy cheek before distributing the paper. “You can write anything you want provided it’s nice . Like, actually nice and not your fucked up perception of nice. Don’t sign your name, but you can put a little HH at the bottom to help promote the hotel. Try not to get too many stains on these and yes, everyone has to participate.”
Vaggie stopped in front of the couch where Alastor sat, the only one still dressed and removed from the chaos of their snack-infested pillow nest. He hadn’t the slightest idea why she’d be glaring at him when she said that and he ensured the sentiment was conveyed through his grin.
“But of course!” he said, selecting red with a black pen.
“Humph. I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Something nice? A truly daunting task, even for someone of his talents. After today Alastor was more convinced than ever that the Princess was the most insane of them all. Oh, it served his purposes deliciously that she should trust him, particularly with so little effort on his part, and yet it was insulting how naive she could be. Even if he’d had a conscious, Alastor was sure he’d have no qualms about upsetting the power dynamic of Hell and seizing it for himself. If this was their royalty... Hell deserved better. Someone with hunger. Someone with style. Their little bearcat was funneling her passion in all the wrong, most entertainingly stupid directions.
Alastor tilted his head as Charlie finished drawing a sunflower, Niffty flitting about as she swept up the glitter falling away. It looked... domestic .
Ah, but it would be so easy to slit her throat from this angle, spilling ‘paint’ all across the project. Or remove that pretty head from her shoulders, near instantaneously. Summon up his demon pet to crush her bones. Drop her into a void. Fill her mind with so many screams that her brain leaked out her ears in chunky rivers. Hollow her out and puppet her so convincingly that even their Dumb Dora wouldn’t recognize her. He could do it .
Beside Alastor, taking up their half of the couch, Razzle and Dazzle gazed upon the festivities with vacant expressions, tongues lolling.
One—he didn’t care to know which—turned its head and gave him a happy chirp.
(A block away the growl became an all-out screech, like a thousand souls blended together in agony.)
“I could do it,” Alastor whispered to them. He tilted his staff for good measure, ensuring the microphone pointed directly at Charlie. “I doubt your little ‘intentions’ magic is as powerful as she says. Even if it is, you beasts lack in imagination. Trust me, darlings: there are many ways to hurt someone that don’t threaten their physical safety.”
The second goat-dragon had joined in now, tilting its head curiously at Alastor. The first began thumping its tail against its companion’s face, pleased as punch, and suddenly Alastor felt a surge of genuine anger—the first in a long time.
“ She is only unharmed because I wish it ,” he hissed, “because she is more entertaining to me alive than dead!”
(The six speakers blew, showering citizens in shrapnel.)
“Alastor?”
He quickly blinked away the red light that had covered his eyes, turning his attention to Charlie.
“Apologies! Merely musing over what uplifting message I should grace the denizens of Hell with.” Alastor tapped a long claw against his chin, hamming it up. Only Vaggie was sober and de-caffeinated enough to catch on. The smile Charlie graced him with was... honest.
Violent images filled his head in response: of obliterating—or better yet—permanently stitching that smile into place. All the while those creatures sat beside him, both at perfect ease. One even edged closer.
He could do it. He would do it. The only reason Alastor hadn’t was because he didn’t want to do it yet .
But that day would come.
Dazzle sniffed the edge of Alastor’s sleeve. Razzle yawned.
Until then, their Princess was clearly in need of better protection. He’d assign a few shadows to her; sharp pieces of his silhouette who could tail the girl without notice. It would only require a bit of exertion on his part and the surveillance was worth it to ensure his favorite toy didn’t go dying before he had a chance to finish playing with her.
After all , Alastor thought, more at ease with that decision than he’d been all day, better the Devil you know.
“Do you know what you're writing?” Charlie asked, nearly having to shout over the commotion of an impromptu show-and-tell. Sugar and alcohol seemed to have loosened everyone’s dignity alongside their inhibition, because suddenly they all wanted praise for their absurd little notes. Generic messages of support were shoved under Charlie’s nose, led by Vaggie in a delightfully embarrassing display. Although, was it better or worse that Sir Pentious was equally desperate for Charlie’s approval? Angel slapped his note down on the table—complete with a diagram—and Alastor deliberately did not give it a closer look. (Husker’s spluttering was information enough, thank you.) Cherri was busy rolling hers into fuzes, muttering continuously about the message she’d send in the next turf war. Niffty had just written CLEAN in shaky letters across pages and pages and pages of notes.
All the while Charlie stared across the chaos at him. Imploring.
However could Alastor deny her?
“Oh, yes indeedy, my dear,” he said. “Patience—you’ll see it soon enough.” Alastor deliberately raised a hand, ensuring she saw, tracked, and understood when he laid in atop Razzle’s head. His hand was now large enough to crush the beast’s skull, claws poised to sink into vulnerable flesh, a dark ooze sizzling like acid that crept from a crack in his wrist, edging dangerously close.
Throughout it all, Razzle purred.
***
The next morning Charlie woke to find a red note taped to her bed, delivered by shadows. Dazzle was the first to find and drop it into his mistress’ lap, producing happy yips as he caught her expression.
“We’ll win him over,” Charlie said, grinning as she re-pinned the note to her mirror.
Alastor had given her just one word of encouragement, accompanied by a sketch of two dead goat-dragons:
SMILE