Chapter Text
It was far from a regular night at the Black Cat Casino.
Husk sighed, taking a slow sip of his whiskey, the amber liquid burning his throat as his keen eyes swept over the casino floor. The usual clamour of patrons trying their luck was absent tonight. Instead, his staff moved methodically, boarding up windows and securing doors, leaving only the main entrance accessible.
Extermination Day was nearly upon them; a grim, annual purge where Heaven’s Exorcists descended upon the Pride Ring, slaughtering any sinner unlucky enough to be caught outside. As per Husk’s orders, the casino would be locked down, with everyone staying inside until the Heaven Embassy’s clock signalled the nightmare was over, providing sanctuary to those under his contract. Protection was one of the few benefits he extended to those in his employ.
Despite his status, Husk was not a cruel Overlord. He may own the souls who worked for him, but unlike most Overlords, he did not rule with an iron fist. He had little interest in excessive punishment or control. As long as they did their job, followed his rules, and kept the casino profitable, he saw no need to make their afterlives more miserable than they already were. That attitude had earned him more loyalty than fear, a rarity in Hell. In his eyes, loyalty was more valuable; it meant less chance of wayward souls wanting to make a power grab against him.
Of course, that did not mean he did not dole out appropriate punishments when he felt it was necessary…
As Husk took another sip of his drink, he noticed that some sinners still remained at the slot machines and Blackjack tables, trying to make one last quick buck before he made the call to close his doors. Husk rolled his eyes as the warning sirens outside grew louder, but the sinners stayed put. Normally, he would not care how long sinners stayed in his casino. He either ended up with all of their money, or their souls if they struck out.
But he did not want them here during the Extermination. If the Exorcists saw them inside his casino, they would raid the building, and kill any sinners they find. Husk and his souls would be safe hiding in the reinforced basement, but the risk increased if Exorcists had any reason to enter his casino.
“Alright, time’s up!” he yelled, slamming his glass onto the bar top with a sense of finality. “Everyone cash out and get the fuck out! Anyone still in here by the time those doors close will be thrown out through the window!”
A few murmurs of protest rose from the crowd, but a quick flash of his golden dice and sharp cards got the message across. They began packing up quickly, stuffing their pockets full of chips as they dashed towards the cash counter near the exit.
Husk shook his head as the sinners scrambled, as if just realising the predicament they were in. Extermination Day was minutes away, and they had to find somewhere safe before the Exorcists came down.
They were not Husk’s problem. He was not a charity.
As soon as the last sinner ran out the front, his staff shut and barricaded the door. Husk exhaled slowly, ears twitching at every sound coming from outside.
“Alright,” he muttered, flicking his tail. “Everyone to the basement. You know the drill.”
His staff obeyed without hesitation, disappearing through the service door behind the bar. Husk lingered a moment longer, gaze sweeping the floor one last time. Every light but the dim emergency ones had been switched off, bathing the casino in an eerie red glow. Tables stood abandoned, cards half-dealt, chips scattered, as though the apocalypse had happened.
Which, in a way, is not that far off from the truth.
Eventually, Husk followed his staff through the service door and made his way down to the basement towards his private bunker. Inside was a bed, a small bar fridge, and a desk full of screens that showed footage via security cameras of the outside of his casino. He had a perfect view of the Heaven Embassy from the camera on the rooftop, so he would know as soon as the Exorcists arrived, and when they left.
A loud chime sounded and a bright portal appeared above the Embassy as Husk sat down in front of his screens with a fresh glass of whiskey, signalling the start of the massacre. He was in for a long day.
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Hours later, the heavy chimes of the Heaven Embassy’s clock echoed through the city as the sun dipped below the horizon, finally signalling the bloodbath’s end. Husk exhaled, watching the screen as the glowing portal in the sky flickered and sealed shut, the Exorcist army vanishing with it.
He gingerly got up from his chair with a groan and exited the bunker, giving the all-clear signal to his assistant, who in turn, would end the casino’s lockdown. He stretched out his back and made his way up the stairs, already dreading the damage he was going to see.
Surprisingly, other than the mess that was left behind when his patrons ran for their lives, the casino was still in pretty decent condition. No Exorcist had tried to force their way inside, which made him sigh in relief. If all he had to deal with was a mess and external damage, he would call that a win in his book.
Behind him, the sharp click of cloven hooves on marble caught his attention, his ears twitching toward the sound.
“What’s the damage so far, Tilly?” he asked gruffly.
A goat demon stepped beside him, tail flicking as she adjusted her half-moon glasses and scrolled through her phone.
“Not too bad this year, Boss,” she reported. “Most of us stayed put. Only a couple of your souls got caught outside when it started.”
Husk grunted. They had adamantly refused his protection, preferring to take their chances out in the open. He would not waste time mourning them.
“Property damage?”
“The Black Cat held up fine; just some broken windows, but nothing major. Your other locations weren’t as lucky, though. The Doomsday District casino took the worst hit. Looks like some desperate sinners tried to break in for shelter, but…” Tilly shrugged, letting the unspoken words hang.
Husk listened as she rattled off the details, taking mental stock of his losses. Not as bad as previous years, but still, a loss was a loss.
"But nothing that can’t be rebuilt, Boss," Tilly finished with a small smile.
“Good,” Husk muttered. “Get it sorted, and start on the repairs. I’m going outside to assess the damage around the building myself.”
“On it,” Tilly gave a quick salute. With that, she clacked off, already dialling someone on her phone.
Husk sighed as he stepped through the back entrance of the casino, bracing for what he would find. He expected the usual aftermath; a mess of bloodstains, broken glass, maybe a mutilated body or two, but to his surprise, the area was relatively untouched. A bit of dried blood stained the pavement, and some angelic blades were embedded in the brick walls, their golden glow already dimming. But compared to previous years, the cleanup would not be too bad.
He made note of what needed to be done and turned back to head inside to inform Tilly, when something caught his ear; a rustle, barely audible, followed by the unmistakable scent of fear. His muscles tensed, eyes narrowing and ears twitching as his golden eyes scanned the shadows.
A sudden, sharp intake of breath.
Husk pivoted sharply toward the sound. It came from the darkness near a stack of discarded crates, where the neon glow of the casino barely reached. He took a step forward, ears continuing to twitch at the slightest movement.
As he stepped closer, a sudden, shrill cry pierced the air, and Husk immediately recoiled, ears flattening against his head.
The crying continued, with deep gasps in between. Husk’s ears perked as his fur bristled. His instincts were on edge, and his wings twitched slightly as he moved toward the sound, steps silent.
As he came closer, the cries became hoarser, as if the simple act of screaming was hurting the source’s throat. He kneeled down and looked into the dark corner of the alley.
There, curled up behind the crates, was a small figure. Trembling. At first, he thought it was a stray demon, some desperate sinner seeking refuge. But as his vision adjusted, he froze.
It was not a demon. It was a baby.
He stumbled back before he even realized it, mind racing with questions. Sinners in Hell did not have babies. You did not get born here. You died and came here. That was how it worked.
So, what in Lucifer’s name was this?
She looked young, barely a few months old, her tiny frame shivering violently. Her face, smudged with dirt and streaked with dried blood, was twisted in fear. Golden hair, matted and tangled, clung to her damp skin. Small, shaking hands clutched her chest, and her wide, panic-stricken blue eyes flicked around as if expecting a monster to leap from the darkness, cries of fear leaving her lips in short bursts.
Husk’s stomach twisted, and his heart gave an uncomfortable lurch. Extermination Day left plenty of broken souls in its wake. He had seen tons of souls perish, and many more still wandering the streets, lost and alone after their families or friends were wiped out. But in all his years being down here, he had never seen a child so young. She did not look like she belonged in Hell at all. She almost looked human, and yet, something told Husk that she was not all that she seemed.
There was also something…different about her. Something that made his fur bristle and his nose crinkle.
His tail flicked, his mind racing. A kid from Earth? No, that did not make sense. One of Rosie’s kin? No, even the kids from Cannibal Town had a more sinister air about them. This little child…she reeked of something else. Something softer.
Something…brighter.
The realization sent a chill down his spine. If she had been outside during the Extermination, she should be dead. The Exorcists did not leave survivors if they could help it, and the fact that she was out here, alone, made his blood run cold.
This little girl in front of him only screamed innocence, something completely unheard of in Hell.
Husk found himself gritting his teeth and his hand twitched. Every logical instinct told him to walk away, that this was not his problem. He should just turn around, and let someone else deal with it, leave her fate to chance.
And yet…there was a part of him that could not bring himself to do so, because deep down, he knew no one else would. He knew that she would more likely be dead by morning, or worse.
He did not consider himself a good person. Far from it, he ended up in Hell for a reason. But despite what he may have been like in life, harming children, or leaving them defenceless, never once entered his mind.
The baby’s cry hitched; that hiccupping sort of sob that came with exhaustion. Her cries were losing volume, like she had been crying for hours and no one came to her aid.
Or more likely, no one could hear her over the terrified screams of sinners being slaughtered by the Exorcists.
Husk took another cautious step forward, his claws flexing, tension creeping into his stance. The gravel crunched beneath his foot, and the girl’s head snapped towards the sound, her wide, terrified eyes locking onto his and her mouth opening to let out another scream.
“Shh,” Husk murmured, raising a hand in a gesture of peace. His voice was rough, but he softened it as best he could. “I ain’t gonna hurt you, kid.”
The girl did not scream, but she did let out a whimper. She was small, fragile-looking, and clearly terrified. She looked like she had been through hell, physically and mentally.
With a grimace, he knelt beside the crate, his suit jacket shifting around his shoulders as he reached out, clawed fingers brushing the edge of the blanket.
The baby startled at the contact, letting out a shriek so sharp Husk winced. Her whole body tensed, arms flailing again, mouth wide open in a silent wail.
“It’s alright, kiddo,” Husk tried to reassure again. She did not understand the words, of course. She just cried harder. Husk bit down a curse, and gently gathered her into his arms, lifting her carefully. She fit in his large hands almost perfectly, her weight warm and real.
Too real.
She squirmed in his grasp at first, but when he instinctively pulled her close, and she felt the press of his chest and the steady thump of his heartbeat, something changed.
She let out a soft, ragged sigh, and as if she could sense that he meant her no harm, she went quiet and still. Her tiny fingers curled into the exposed fur on his chest, her cheek resting against his shirt.
Husk stood there in stunned silence, cradling the baby to his chest as the neon light of the casino flickered behind him. After a few moments, he stood up, and with slow, hesitant steps, carried her into the back halls of the casino without another word.
As the casino doors creaked shut behind them, Husk realised that he had no idea what he was getting himself into. But as he glanced down at her, her small, fragile form trembling slightly, her little nose buried in the fur of his chest, he knew one thing for sure:
He needed to protect her.
Inside the safety of his casino, Husk would do what he did best: stay out of the public eye, and keep her hidden, protected, at least until he could find out where she came from. But deep down, something had already shifted. The moment he found her there, huddling in the darkness after Extermination Day, he knew that he was not just saving her from the Exorcists or whatever else was out there. He was saving her from a world that might never have a place for someone like her, and for reasons he did not fully understand yet, he knew he would fight to keep her safe.
Maybe, just maybe, saving her meant saving a piece of himself too. A piece he thought to be long forgotten and buried.
After bringing the girl inside, Husk carried her through the dimly lit back halls of the casino. The usual hum of activity was muted, the aftermath of the lockdown still in effect. She made small noises as he walked, as if she were trying to take in the new environment around her.
Husk sighed, running a hand down his face. What the hell am I supposed to do with a kid?
She was exhausted; he could see it in the way she struggled to stay awake, her tiny form weighed down by exhaustion and whatever injuries he had not seen yet.
As he finally reached the door to his penthouse, he gently ushered her inside.
“C’mon, kid,” Husk muttered, jerking his head toward one of the private side rooms, as if she could understand him. “You can crash here for now.”
He stood at the threshold, scanning the space. It was not anything special; a decent-sized bed, a worn-out couch, and a minibar he kept for emergencies. He did not use these rooms much; mainly when he drank too much and could not be bothered to make it back to his actual room.
But it was warm, quiet, and most importantly, safe.
Husk stepped in, grabbing an old, clean towel from the bathroom. He sat down on the bed, gently setting her on his lap.
“We should get you cleaned up,” he said. “You look like hell, kid. No pun intended.”
The girl stared at the towel in his hand, and back up at him. Her grip on his shirt tightened. Husk sighed. He stood again, heading toward a closet and pulling out an old shirt; far too big for her, but better than the torn rags she was wearing. While there, he also grabbed an old pair of pyjama pants before placing the old shirt on the bed.
“Ain’t much, but it’ll be better than that mess you got on,” he continued, as if she could answer. “We will give you a proper bath in the morning, but it’s late; we’ll make do with this for now.”
Her eyes slipped shut slightly, but she refused to let go. Husk rubbed the back of his neck. He was not great at this. He had kids once, sure, but that was a lifetime ago.
“Look, kid, you’re safe here,” he said, softer this time, “Nobody’s gonna hurt you. So just…let me help you so we can both get some rest, alright?”
After a long pause, her grip finally loosened, and Husk was able to lie her down on the bed. He gently removed the tattered clothing she had on, and she let out little whimpers as he did so. That was when Husk finally took note of the injuries that were now clearly visible.
Husk winced. He was not known for being the nurturing type. But when he saw the little girl’s injuries; scrapes on her knees, bruises along her arms, and what appeared to be dried blood staining her tangled hair, something in him twisted.
It was not the worst he had ever seen, but on someone so small, it looked wrong.
She did not complain, did not cry. Just lay stiffly on the edge of the bed, hands balled into the bed sheets, watching him warily. Like she expected him to yell or push her away.
Husk sighed and ran a hand down his face.
“Stay put,” he muttered, turning toward the old first aid kit he kept in a nearby cabinet. He barely used it; most demons did not bother with patching wounds when they healed fast enough on their own, unless they were dire. But she was not a demon, and until he knew what she was, he had to treat her injuries like he would have when he was alive.
She did not make any noises as he rummaged through the kit, pulling out a bottle of antiseptic and some bandages. When he sat down beside her, she flinched slightly. Barely noticeable, but Husk caught it.
He exhaled through his nose and kept his movements slow.
“Relax, kid,” he muttered. “Ain’t gonna hurt ya.”
Still, when he grabbed a clean cloth and started dabbing at the worst of the grime on her face, she squirmed.
The antiseptic was next. Husk unscrewed the cap, soaked another cloth, and gave her a glance.
“This’ll sting a bit,” he warned.
She continued to stare at him, tears just behind her eyes. Husk worked quickly, dabbing at the scrapes with careful precision. When she whimpered at the sting, he felt a pang of something, but said nothing. Instead, he kept talking, trying to distract her.
“I wonder where you came from, kid…” he muttered. “You definitely ain’t from around here. Ain’t no way a baby ends up in Hell, and you ain’t a Hellborn, so you weren’t born here.”
The girl whimpered again, but softer this time. Her eyes bore straight into Husk, causing the cat demon to pause.
“…What you thinking about in that little head of yours?” Husk asked. “You really threw me for a loop tonight. You’re real something, kid.”
She stayed quiet after that. Once he was done, Husk leaned back with a grunt, tossing the used cloth into a trash bin.
“There,” he spoke. “You ain’t bleeding all over my furniture now.”
The baby wriggled, lifting her arms up towards Husk with a hesitant cry. Husk felt his chest tighten, but quickly dismissed it.
“C’mon, kid,” he grumbled, standing up. “Let’s get you to bed.”
He took off his suit jacket and dress shirt, quickly changing into his pyjama pants while the baby continued to fuss on the bed. He gently picked her up, and her small fingers once again gripped at his exposed chest fur with a content sigh. Husk pretended not to notice as he tried to lay her down by the pillows, until she refused to let him go with another whimper, her grip tightening.
Husk stood there, stiff and unsure. He was not used to this. He was used to people needing him for drinks, money, or protection, not whatever this was.
He exhaled through his nose, rubbing the bridge of his nose. But when he glanced at her again, in his arms, small and scared, looking so vulnerable, he felt something tug at his chest. A long-buried instinct. A memory of a time before everything went to hell.
“…Alright, kid,” he muttered. He gently sat down at the edge of the bed, leaning against the wall as he watched her. He put some pillows around her, creating a barrier to prevent her from falling off the bed, and pulled her a bit closer to the middle.
Silence stretched between them. Husk leaned back in the wall, staring at the ceiling, tail flicking idly. He could hear her shifting, restless. She let out another frustrated noise, little legs kicking, and Husk sighed.
Before he knew it, he began to hum. It was a familiar tune, one his own mother used to sing to him when he was a child. He barely remembered much from his early days on Earth, but that song always stuck with him.
Her breathing slowed. By the time he glanced over, she was asleep, tiny fingers curled into the blanket.
Husk exhaled, shaking his head. What the hell am I doing?
Still, he did not move right away. Just leaned back, arms crossed, ears twitching at every little sound. He slouched awkwardly against the headboard on the bed. It was not comfortable, not even close, but he was too tired to care. The room was quiet, save for the distant hum of the casino beyond the walls and the slow, steady breathing of the little girl curled up under the blankets.
Just as he began to doze off, movement stirred him from his light sleep. Then, before he could process it, tiny hands gripped at his arm.
His ear twitched, and he cracked open an eye, only to find the kid curled up against his arm, clinging to him like a lifeline.
Husk stiffened. What the…?
She had moved in her sleep, scooting closer until she was practically leaning into him. One of her small hands had fisted into his chest fur, holding on tight. Her face was buried against his chest, and even in sleep, he could see the tension in her tiny form; like she was afraid he would disappear if she let go.
For a long moment, Husk just sat there, unmoving. He could have pulled away. He should have. But…
With a quiet sigh, he let his head fall back against the wall, staring at the ceiling.
“Damn kid…” he muttered under his breath, but there was no real bite to his words.
Carefully, so carefully it surprised even him, he shifted slightly, just enough to make her more comfortable without waking her. She let out a soft sigh and nuzzled closer, her grip not loosening in the slightest.
Husk swallowed thickly. Something about it, the feeling was too familiar. Too much like a memory he did not want to dig up. He was not used to this, being needed. But for some reason, he did not mind it as much as he thought he would.
He closed his eyes again, exhaling softly. He told himself he would leave in a minute.
Just one more minute.
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When he woke up later in the night to movement, he froze.
He had not meant to get this close. Hell, he was not even sure how it happened. One moment, he was keeping his distance, watching over her like some reluctant guardian, and now…now he was practically wrapped around her. His tail feathers rested near her head, and one wing draped over her small form like a makeshift blanket.
He had never done anything like this before. His ear flicked as he stirred, barely awake, and instinctively, he started to shift back. He was not the cuddly type.
A small whimper made him freeze. Husk looked down. The kid had snuggled even closer in her sleep, her tiny fingers still clenched tightly in the fur on his chest like she needed him there. His breath hitched.
Something in him, something buried deep, ached at the sight. Husk exhaled through his nose. He could pull away. He could put that wall back up, keep himself detached like he always did.
Instead, he sighed and let his clawed hand rest gently over her small form, his claws barely grazing the fabric of the oversized shirt she was wrapped in. She was warm, fragile…a little thing that had somehow ended up in his care.
Then he felt it; a low, soothing vibration in his chest. It took him a second to realize what it was.
He was purring.
Husk stiffened, his ears flattening slightly in embarrassment. He had not purred in…hell, he could not even remember the last time. It was not something he did of his own free will, and was just another thing he absolutely hated about the body he was stuck with.
He swallowed hard and shut that thought down fast. For a moment, he just lay there, staring at the ceiling, feeling the slow rise and fall of the little girl’s breathing against him. He knew that he was not going anywhere else tonight.
With a final, quiet sigh, he closed his eyes and let his purring rumble on.
Just for tonight.