My Way

by Momo52

Summary:

All sinners of hell bore some physical marks of how they lived and died. Some physical manifestations were more obvious while others were subtle. Vox was not an exception to this rule.

While his television head was an obvious indication of his life while on Earth, the mark he bore from his death was far more subtle. Luckily enough, his shame was easily concealed behind a high collar. Unfortunately, he is just as well known in his afterlife as he was in his life. As such, trying to make everyone believe that he is so much stronger than what his death implies is a constant battle. He only wished that he wasn’t the hardest one to convince.

or

Alastor’s injury from the battle is still not healing a month after the extermination. Charlie turns to Vox for help. The past haunts both, decades later, causing pain and problems in the present.

Previous story title: Days Long Past

Notes:

This work will be addressing some heavy topics, as the tags imply. Considering what this show is about and like, I think it goes without saying this work isn't for children. I still am undecided on how graphic I'll eventually get when talking about each topic but know that some things will be talked about and shown to be happening in detail, others might just be referred to having happened in the past. I will try and make sure to put a warning at the beginning of each chapter as to the potentially triggering topics in said chapter, and will add tags as the work goes along if I can think of more.

Chapter 1: A Plea For Help Answered

Summary:

Vox has a meeting. A very important one that he can't miss. And yet it's one he's dreading and can't shake his anxiety over. Once he arrives, things only get worse. Damn Charlie Morningstar and her damned bleeding heart. He knows he's going to regret this day for quite some time.

Vox could feel a headache coming on.

One would think that having a television for a head would spare him of such problems but unfortunately, and unbeknownst to most denizens of Hell, he was rather more human than others might think. Headaches and migraines were a constant struggle in his life, and death did not cure him of this. Of course, the overwhelming amount of work he took on on a daily basis certainly didn’t help matters and today was no different.

Vox had a meeting he was going to be late for if he didn’t hurry up and this was one he most certainly didn’t want to screw up. For whatever reason, good or bad, Lucifer wanted to meet with VoxTek about a business opportunity.

Why in all of Hell would Lucifer, the King of Hell, want to meet with him??

Valentino and Velvet were thrilled about the prospect, if not slightly pissy about the fact Lucifer specifically asked to meet with VoxTek’s CEO and not his partners. But if Vox could arrange a lucrative business deal with Lucifer himself then that would mean big things for all three of the Vee’s.

Vox was significantly more reserved about this meeting for a variety of reasons. For one, having Lucifer ask to only speak to him was equal parts unnerving and a relief. If Lucifer hadn’t asked to speak to him specifically Vox would have himself suggested to the other Vee’s to allow Vox to meet with Lucifer independently, if only at first, in order to ensure the meeting go off without a hitch. Velvet’s abrasive personality wasn’t always other people’s cup of tea and suggesting any differently to her usually resulted in an all out scream fest that she wouldn’t pause in even while she answered texts, calls, and scrolled through social media. While her multi-tasking skills were impressive, Vox preferred not to have to suffer through what would most definitely aggravate his headache further. Valentino on the other hand, was not everyone’s cup of tea for entirely different reasons. Suggesting any differently to HIM was…well. Vox didn’t want to think of what resulted when garnering Valentino’s ire.

Thankfully, Vox didn’t have to suggest the idea to leave them out of the meeting but then that meant Vox had to face Lucifer himself. Alone. Without any help. With the full attention of the most powerful being in all of Hell on him.

Valentino and Velvet didn’t seem to think that Vox had anything to worry about. Lucifer, while the leader of Hell, was mostly removed from the going on’s and ruling of Hell. For millennia’s Lucifer mostly left the management of Hell to his now estranged wife Lillith, along with the other higher ups. As a result, the intimidating aura and threat of him seemed to fade to the backs of most citizens of Hell.

This of course did NOT change the fact he was very much a REAL danger and the most powerful being in Hell. While most residents of Hell were not provided with the reminder of this fact when Lucifer showed up in the 11th hour of the early extermination, Vox and his partners very much were, curtesy of VoxTek cameras and footage of the battle. And yet all Valentino and Velvet seemed to recall from Lucifer’s involvement was the awkward, and amusing, slip-up in his threat to Adam. While Velvet mostly just found it humorous, Valentino decided it was the perfect opportunity to explore many new ideas for his porn industry. Yet another reason why keeping Valentino as FAR away from Lucifer was a good idea. Vox did not want to have to deal with any sort of fall-out of Lucifer finding out about that if he hadn’t already.

Vox also thought that Lucifer’s sudden interest in VoxTek, without any real explanation for what it may be about, was most certainly concerning. Again, for whatever reason he seemed to be the only one worried about this.

Even if Lucifer had this sudden interest in his company a year back, Vox would still be worried. It’s not like Lucifer had ever taken any interest in business opportunities with other powerhouses within Hell, let alone with an Overlord and Sinner. But the fact that Lucifer’s daughter is now the forefront in everyone’s minds, especially after the recent extermination that happened little more than a month ago, made Vox concerned. Mostly due to the connection between Charlie Morningstar, and the Radio Demon.

Vox rubbed the side of his screen as if to try and alleviate the increasing pressure from his headache which he knew would not work. He sighed and looked out the window of his steadily moving limousine.

Thinking of the Radio Demon would not help him in the slightest when it came to trying to lower his anxiety and prevent what is most assuredly the onset of a migraine. But like most days, it was hard for Vox to prevent his mind from drifting to Alastor.

Less than a week after the last extermination, Alastor came crawling back from wherever the Hell he went to in order to nurse his wounds from his disastrous battle with Adam. On some level Vox knew that it was only a matter of time before Alastor would return, but he hoped that at least he’d have more time before having to worry about his continued cursed existence. Was another 7 years of a reprieve too much to ask for?

And yet, Vox was glad that it took no time at all because another 7 years of torturous anticipation was probably more than he could bare. At least now he didn’t have to constantly wonder if today was going to be the day that Alastor would return and what he would do with that grand re-entrance. Thankfully Alastor’s second return was met with even less spectacle than last time. Which in all honesty, most of the reason Alastor’s first return after 7 years made such a big splash was Vox’s own doing. Valentino did always say Vox was his own worst enemy, which he was all to aware of as he rubbed at the burning sensation in his throat at the reminder.

Vox nervously pulled at the high collar of his button-down shirt, ensuring it went as high as possible. While logically he knew that no part of his neck was exposed, it was a nervous habit he was unable to shake ever since he started wearing high necklines in his early days of Hell. The high necklines and collars were equal parts a curse and a form of armor. A curse because he absolutely hated the feeling of anything against his neck, something he doesn’t think he’ll ever get over ever since his death. But a form of protection because it kept the bright red mark around his neck from prying eyes. The bright red mark that everyone knew how he obtained.

The last thing he needed Lucifer to think at this meeting was that he was weak and not someone to be taken seriously. Which he wouldn’t be taken seriously if he didn’t hurry up and get to the meeting on time.

“Hey!”, Vox shouted to his driver. “Hurry it up! I don’t care how fast you go, and who you might hit, pick it up. I can’t be late!”

Without any prompting the vehicle peeled off down the road at an increased rate of speed, knocking Vox into the side of the door as they turned a corner. Vox huffed but said nothing since the driver was doing as he was told. Besides, if he died on his way to the meeting at least he’d have an excuse as to why he was late. Hopefully Lucifer would be forgiving of him once he regenerated.

Vox sighed again and pulled his hand down from where it was still tugging at his collar. Instead, he dipped his hand into his pants pocket and began fiddling with the object he found there. Yet another nervous habit of his that he wished he could stop. Especially since doing so always returned his thoughts back to the Radio Demon.

Vox cursed under his breath and quickly pulled his hand out of his pocket, purposefully leaving the object in his pocket. He crossed his arms in the hopes of preventing any further twitching of his fingers. This is why he so often clasped his hands behind his back. Kept his hands away from giving away his many different anxieties and also outwardly put on a show of being composed and dignified.

Before Vox knew it, his limousine came to an abrupt halt, leaving Vox reeling and grasping for a door handle before he faceplanted on the floor.

“A little warning next time!” he shouted. Vox received a quiet and sheepish apology from the driver.

As Vox continued to grumble and adjust his clothes back to his pristine look, he gazed outside and saw that they had arrived at their destination. Vox noted the time on his internal clock and saw that he had five minutes to spare. No time to dawdle. By the time he went through security, checked in with the receptionist, and was escorted to the meeting room he would be right on time.

Vox quickly exited the vehicle and walked towards the front doors of the building without another word to his driver. He entered the building and breezed through security and checking in. When he arrived at the room where the meeting was to take place, it was with two minutes to spare.

Hhm, he thought. He managed to be early.

The imp who had escorted him instructed Vox that his host would be with him shortly and to make himself comfortable. The room was rather large and extravagant, if not slightly…dusty. When was the last time Lucifer used this room? When was the last time he used this building? It’s where he’s supposed to carry out all his business but then again, as Vox had already been thinking earlier, it’s not like Lucifer had been doing much of ANY business for quite some time.

So why the Hell now? And why with Vox? And why the Hell not at least dust a little?

Right as his internal calendar notified him that the meeting is supposed to start NOW, the doors opened. Vox turned around and was faced with not Lucifer Morningstar, but his overly chipper daughter.

Vox was starting to dread this meeting even more.

“Hello! So nice of you to come Mr. Vox, sir! I’m so glad that we could finally officially meet!” she said in a far louder tone then needed, especially in a room so large, creating an echo. Charlie strode across the room with her hand extended with the intention to shake.

While Vox really did not wish to shake her hand, he extended his own, not wanting to offend the Princess of Hell, and by extension her father.

“Princess Morningstar,” he said as he plastered on one of his signature smiles he uses on all his business ventures that most are too foolish to recognize as being false. “What a pleasure! Not the person I was expecting, however. Where IS your father?”

As Charlie grasped his hand her chipper demeanor noticeably deflated into something sheepish. Charlie averted her eyes and said, “Uhh well, see about that. Uhm, he’s not coming.”

With decades of practice, Vox managed to keep his face from morphing into something far more honest and unpleasant. He also managed to keep his tone light and respectful, if a little strained. “Oh that is rather unfortunate! If he wanted to reschedule it’s no bother at all. I understand what a busy schedule looks like! A message sent via text message, or phone call, or even an email would have sufficed rather than having to notify me in person. Really, I won’t take the offense!” In fact, it would be preferable, he thought. And far less of a waste of his time and nerves.

Charlie rubbed the back of her neck while still avoiding eye contact. She gave a weak laugh. “Uhh well you see about that. He’s not really the one who set up this meeting. I mean he is! But not for him. It’s for me! He agreed to get me a meeting with you so we could talk!” By the end of her little frantic statement, Charlie managed to look back to her normal overly happy self and was beaming at Vox.

“You wanted to having a meeting? With me?” Vox said, this time noticeably losing far more of his forced respectfulness. Most people would be able to pick up on his annoyed and disbelieving tone but either Charlie didn’t notice or she ignored it as she plowed on.

“Yes! You see I’ve been dying to speak with you for some time! I mean not literally dying. I’m the princess of Hell. I can’t just DIE. I mean I can, but obviously only through angelic weapons just like everyone else. I just…is that rude saying that? Especially to a sinner who has LITERALLY died? I really meant no offense!” Charlie stared wide-eyed at Vox, looking as if she was genuinely worried to cause offense.

Vox stared at her with furrowed brows, unsure how to handle the princess. Before he could formulate a response, another person answered for her.

“Don’t worry, Charlie. While it can be a touchy topic and expression, usually that’s just the case for the more recently deceased. Those who have been dead for a while usually get over that pretty fast.”

Vox turned his gaze to a gray skinned demon who he only just now realized had followed Charlie into the room at a far more subdued pace. When Vox focused his gaze on her, he realized who she was and that she was no demon. The fallen angel. The ex-exterminator. The girlfriend of the Princess of Hell.

Vox internally sneered. What would she know about how quick Sinner’s in Hell get over anything. She’s an angel from Heaven who has been here for less than a decade. What does she know about how things work in Hell?

“Ohhh! Well, that’s a relief!”, said Charlie as she turned to face her girlfriend. After the angel’s explanation, Vox noticed Charlie’s obvious but quick look at Vox’s neck before she purposefully looked away.

Vox felt himself go tense and his shoulder’s rise. Of course, even Charlie Morningstar, who never lived a day on Earth, would know all about Vox’s death. There isn’t a soul in Hell who didn’t.

Vox forced his shoulders to lower and he adjusted his bowtie to keep his fingers from their itchy desire to grab at his collar again. “Yes well, whether I take offense to that or not, I DO take offense to being lurd her under false pretenses. I don’t know what you wanted to speak to me about, Princess, but I do believe it is time for me to take my leave. I’m a VERY busy man.”

Vox put his hands behind his back and pulled himself to his highest height. He then briskly began to walk past the other two, aiming for the doors. As he walked past Charlie, however, she abruptly grabbed his arm with a surprising amount of strength that he didn’t think she was even aware of using. He quickly turned to look at her in shock. Princess of Hell, remember. Daughter of Lucifer. If she wanted to, she could kill Vox where he stood.

“No, wait!! I know that tricking you to come here was rude and mean and I’m very sorry for that! But it was the best thing I could think of to get you here because I didn’t think in a million years you’d agree to this meeting if you knew I was the one calling for it!”
Well, she wasn’t wrong.

“But I REALLY need your help! And it took a while for me to even convince my dad to set up this meeting because he really didn’t want me to come here to talk to you about this…” Charlie trailed off at the end and then quickly let go of his arm and pulled it back, as if only now realizing she had grabbed onto him.

Vox’s brows furrowed and he looked at her in annoyed indignation. “Why would your dad not want you to talk to me? What, he afraid I’ll corrupt and hurt his little girl?”

While Charlie’s eyes widen and she raised her hands in complete denial, her girlfriend next to her narrowed her eyes at Vox as if him suggesting such a thing meant he would actually do it. Like Hell would Vox try anything against the Princess. Vox would never willingly bring down the ire of Lucifer upon himself. And since the extermination, Vox now was no longer sure that Charlie herself wouldn’t actually try anything against him.

“No! No! It’s nothing like that!” cried Charlie. “No. It’s just…what I want to ask you is something that he doesn’t exactly agree with or want me to ask from you.” She awkwardly looked down and rubbed her arm.

Suddenly Vox was stricken with a horrid idea and was suddenly worried what this CHILD would ask him. Sure, she was technically older than Vox’s entire existence, but she was still very much a young woman who was little more than a child and Vox was a demon who died, and will eternally be, in his 50’s.

As if reading his mind, Charlie’s face blanched and she raised her hands, frantically shaking them back and forth with her palms out. “NO! Wait! I don’t mean it like that! Nothing inappropriate! I swear!”

The angel’s single eye widened when she realized what the other two were thinking. Quickly she pulled out an angelic spear, presumably from nowhere, and pointed it at Vox. “You stay away from her you freak or I swear to all things unholy I will run you threw with my spear!”

“Vaggie, no!” cried Charlie, stepping between the other two.

Vox took a couple steps back and was very much offended. He glared at the angel, Vaggie, barely refraining from zapping her for daring to point an angelic weapon at him. “As if I’d ever touch your little girlfriend in a million years! I am NOT going to molest a child,” at this Charlie stated, “I’m hundreds of years old, actually”. Vox continued as if she said nothing, “And I’ll have you know I’m VERY much gay!”

Vaggie scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Yeah right, you’d never touch a kid. Everyone knows about the little sex ring your industry had going on in the 50’s. Don’t try and act like you had nothing to do with it. You are in Hell for a reason.”

Vox went quiet and deathly still. After all the shit he went through back in life. After the sacrifices he made and the shit he got himself into, all in the hopes of trying to be a good person. And this will forever be his legacy. He’s in Hell after all. And everyone will always assume how he got there. Doesn’t matter what he says. Didn’t matter what he said in life. People will always make assumptions about him and how he lived and why he died.

Vox adjusted his jacket and turned on his heel. Resuming his trek towards the door without another word.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait! Vaggie didn’t mean that! She apologizes! Please don’t leave! I really need to talk to you!” cried Charlie who followed alongside him.

Vox refused to look at her. “Don’t care. This meeting is over.”

“But this is super important!” she shouted.

“Clearly not that important otherwise you wouldn’t have insulted the person you’re trying to initiate a business deal with.” He reached the door and pulled it open, nearly smacking it into Charlie. She squawked but stepped backwards.

“But you might be the only person who can help us!”

“Too bad,” he said, as he began to walk down the hallway. He got several steps as he heard Charlie continue to beg and plea with him. He ignored her and did not respond.

Finally, she stopped in the middle of the hallway as he kept walking before she shouted, “It’s about Alastor!”

Vox stopped.

“He’s hurt and he might be dying and you’re the only one who might be able to help!”

The hallway was still and silent. The only sound could be the slight buzz from his head. Vox slowly turned around.

“What did you say?”

At Vox’s returned attention Charlie began to stride towards him again. “It’s Alastor. When he came back after disappearing during the extermination, he seemed fine. It was like nothing had happened and we all assumed that he never actually got hurt.”

He did, thought Vox. I saw it.

“But then after about a week that’s when it became obvious that he DID get hurt and he still was. He was just trying to hide it. He tried telling us he was fine and that he was getting better and it was only a matter of time before he was in ‘tip-top-shape’ as he said, but he wasn’t. And he’s…” Charlie sighed and looked down as she stood in front of him. “He’s not doing good.”

Vox stared at her. He felt numb and like he couldn’t breathe. Alastor was hurt. Hurt badly. And had been hurt for about a month and getting worse.

“And why do you think I could possibly help?” he said in a quiet voice.

Charlie looked at him. “I know you two have a history. Everyone knows. Nobody knows the exact details of that history but according to Husk, you two once were friends. Or…friendly.”

Vox scowled. Fucking Husk.

“He also said that if anyone knew how to help Alastor it would be you.”

Why would Husk open his mouth and tell the Princess that, knowing she would try to seek out Vox for help? If Alastor died, Husk would be free from his chains. He should want the Radio Demon to die.

“Yeah well, he’s wrong! I haven’t the faintest clue how to help him. Nor do I want to. The demons my rival. I want him dead!” Vox shouted the last bit as if saying it loudly would convince the Princess. And himself.

"Come on Charlie. I told you this was pointless. There's no way he'd ever help us. Or anyone for that matter," said Vaggie who had walked up behind Charlie and placed her hand on her shoulder in a comforting manner, all the while shooting daggers at Vox with her one good eye.

Vox was tired of this little angel telling him what he would and wouldn't do. Is and isn't like. She knew nothing about him. Just like so many others because she heard the stories she thought she knew who he was and what he was really like. He had half a mind to help them just to prove her wrong.

He clenched his fists in anger and could feel them shake. He shoved them into both of his pockets to keep them from continuing to do so. As he did this he felt it. The ever present object in his pocket. He clasped it between his fingers, feeling all the nicks and miniscule scratches he'd unintentionally inflicted upon it over the years of constantly carrying it. Each imperfection familiar and ingrained in his head at this point.

It was a constant reminder. One he couldn't get away from. It was nagging at his mind and always had been. Over the years the objects meaning had changed to him, serving as a different reminder from day-to-day. But one reminder remained the same. He owed a debt.

Vox clenched the object in his fist tightly before releasing it and removing his hands from his pockets. He took a deep breathe and closed his eyes. He tilted his head back and growled out, "Oh fuck me."

"Uhh I beg your pardon?" said Charlie. Vox could hear the unsheathing of a spear again.

"Not literally! And I swear to fuck, exterminator, if you dare point that spear of yours at me again I WILL shove it up your ass!"

"How the fuck do you know that?" Vox opened his eyes and looked back down. Vaggie's face wore a shocked expression. Vox smiled menacingly.

"Now that's my little secret."

Vaggie growled. "Did Carmilla tell you??"

Well isn't that interesting. Carmilla Carmine is aware of the angel's true origins. And she didn't share with the rest of the class.

Vox simply smiled and shrugged his shoulders, allowing Vaggie to jump to whatever conclusions she assumed the gesture meant.

Vaggie growled again and took a step towards Vox.

"Vaggie don't!"

Vox watched as the Princess pushed the spear pointed towards him away from Vox and shove it towards her girlfriend. Vaggie still held the spear out but she no longer held it towards him.

"I'll help you."

Both women froze and turned to look at Vox.

"I can't make any promises that I'll be able to help or I can find some sort of miracle cure but I do have one idea as to what I can try. If it doesn't work, that's it. You will not contact me again, directly or through this little charade of yours. Capiche?" Vox's screen brightened and his eye's widened as he glared at the other two in an attempt to convey how serious he was.

"Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!! You have no idea how much this means to me! How much this means to us!" Charlie jumped up and down as she released a loud shriek that grated on Vox's still steadily worsening headache. As if it couldn't get any worse, Charlie then flung her arms around Vox's neck in a hug, catching him off guard and causing him to stumble backwards a step.

Before he could push her off of him she let go and then flung herself at her girlfriend who was far more prepared and used to such antics, and as such was able to remain stable. Vaggie offered Charlie a small but sincere smile which Charlie returned with far more enthusiasm.

Vox straightened out his jacket and wiped it down as if to dust himself off. "Yeah yeah. I'm not doing this for you."

"Right! Of course! You're doing it for your friend, Alastor!" Charlie nodded her head seriously.

"What? No!! I'm not doing this for him either!"

"Who are you doing it for them?" Asked Vaggie, with a raised eyebrow.

"Myself mostly!" shouted Vox. He sighed exasperatedly. "It doesn't matter why I'm doing this or for who. You want me to help? Fine. I'm helping. You don't get to ask any questions though. Do you understand? If you start asking any sort of insufferable questions about me or Alastor or anything else for that matter I'm out. Got it?" Vox pointed at Charlie.

Charlie nodded her head vigorously. She raised her hand and saluted him. "Understood!"

Vox sighed and ran his hand down his screen. He knew he was going to regret this for so many reasons.

"I'll come by sometime tomorrow. I'll text you when I'm on my way." Vox turned around to finally leave and get away from quite possibly the worst meeting he'd had in recent memory.

"But wait! You don't have my number!" shouted Charlie.

"Yes I do! My whole thing is technology. Of course I know your number!" he said without even looking back. He wasn't wasting another second here.

He could hear Vaggie mutter to Charlie about how he was a creep and something about a serious invasion of privacy. As he turned the corner, he then heard Charlie chide her girlfriend and tell her how she knew he'd help.

Vox growled to himself. Stupid princesses and their bleeding hearts.

He sent off a quick text to his driver to meet him out front. In no time at all, he was outside, back in his limo, and speeding back to VoxTek.

Once in the confines of his limo he let out a long breathe of air and sagged down in his seat. How had that already unsavory meeting gone from bad, before he even got there, to worse? He pulled out some pain killers from a side compartment and dry swallowed some pills. Yep, definitely a migraine now.

How the fuck was he going to explain this to Valentino and Velvet? He can't exactly tell them that the meeting with Lucifer wasn't really with Lucifer but instead his cheery daughter who just suckered him into helping try to save the fucking Radio Demon! That would NOT go over well. But neither will him telling them that a business deal with Lucifer fell through. Valentino will be pissed.

A spike of anxiety shot through him and settled in his stomach. Vox closed his eye's and tried to calm himself. Against his will, his hand found it's way back into his pocket. He moved the object between his fingers, back-and-forth. It soothed him, despite the awful memories attached to it. Despite the reminders.

Eventually he pulled it out of his pocket and rested his hand in his lap. He opened his eyes and gazed down at his closed fist. He slowly opened his hand and looked at the angelic bullet clutched in his hand.

For almost Vox's entire time in Hell he had had the damned thing. In a way it marked the beginning of his journey as an Overlord. The beginning of becoming the man he is today. Vox sneered. Some man.

Countless times Vox had told himself to get rid of the bullet. Countless times he'd told himself that it was a stupid trinket that had no other value outside of killing, for good, some damned demon.

But Vox knew that he couldn't ever get rid of it. The only way he'd ever get rid of it is if he used it for it's original intended purpose.

Vox sighed again and closed his fingers over the bullet.

How did his life, or death, come to this?

He really, really, hoped his decision today wouldn't come back to bite him in the ass.

Somehow he seriously doubted that it wouldn't.

Chapter 2: A Still Lingering Pain

Summary:

It's 1912 and three small children huddle together in a dark attic, listening to a radio, shielded away from the dark realities of the world beyond. Their reprieve can only last for so long, however. Peace is always temporary, after all. Vox knows this all too well.

Notes:

Well damn. I was not expecting such a reaction from a single chapter. This is my second fic ever so definitely wasn't expecting that. I mostly was wanting to write a story that I myself wanted to read. So to have so many others want to read it too is truly wonderful. Thank you, all of you! I really appreciate it.

Also, I was informed by a couple different people that Charlie is NOT a lesbian but actually bi. I did not realize this and will go back and edit this in the first chapter. While I thought it was a funny joke and exchange between Vox and Charlie it's not exactly relevant to the plot. There's so many facts about the characters and lore of the show that is never explicitly stated in the context of the show but is rather stated by those involved in the show instead. I've been trying to do some research on that to help build upon this story but at the end of the day, this is my own story so obviously there's going to be some things that don't align with canon. Go to the note at the end of the chapter for some further facts about my own lore for this story.

Thanks again for the positive response!

TW for this chapter:
Child abuse, mentions of domestic violence, and period typical racism

1912

A small child sat in a dark attic as he leaned over several small screws and bolts. In one hand he held a screwdriver and in the other he held a wooden box with dials and nobs. His tongue stuck out of the side of his mouth as he fiddled with the back of the box, messing with the intricate machinery inside.

Next to him sat a slightly older girl who had a soft yet amused smiled on her face as she watched the younger of the two. Occasionally she would hand a different tool or a screw to the boy, assisting him without fully understanding what the boy was doing.

The two were clearly related with matching jet black hair and high cheek bones. While their appearance was unkempt with slightly ragged clothing, the two had soft features that were sure to be beautiful and captivating as they grew.

The boy continued to wordlessly work, only mindlessly indicating to the next thing he needed to be passed to him by the girl. Eventually, he stopped and put down the tool in his hand and closed the back of the box. He secured the back and turned the box over. He turned a dial and static could be heard emanating from the speakers of the device. The boys eyes light up and the girls smile grew. He turned another dial and soft music could be heard. The girl gave out a shriek and she clutched the boy.

"You did it!" she cried. "Xavier you fixed it!"

The boy smiled from ear to ear, pleased with his success. He clutched the radio closer to him and turned up the volume slightly.

The two sat for a moment, just listening with rapt attention to the lively music flowing to their ears.

The girl squeezed his shoulders as she leaned the side of her head against his. "Oh just wait until Victor sees this. He's going to be so proud!"

The boy, Xavier, turned to her. "Y-y-y-ou think?" he stuttered.

"Of course! How could he not be?" she said, beaming at him. He beamed back.

"It's like Victor and I always say, Xavier, you are a genius." Xavier's cheeks turned a deep crimson color at the praise.

A creaking noise could be heard behind them as a small door in the floor opened up. The two whipped their heads around, tensing up. Once they saw another older boy's head with a mop of dark hair pop up they both relaxed.

"Victor look! He did it! Just like we said he could! Xavier fixed the radio!" said the girl. The oldest boy climbed through the hole in the ground and then closed the door. He looked at the pair and gave a giant smile that mirrored the other two.

"Way to go Xavier! Well done!" He walked towards the other two before sitting down on the other side of the youngest, throwing his arm around the other two and pulling them towards him. The girl laughed and Xavier gazed up at Victor with admiring eyes.

Victor looked at his watch that was on his wrist that was not around the other two. "And look at that, right on time. In a couple of minutes our favorite show will be starting!"

The girl squealed and got onto her knees as she clenched her hands in front of her chest in excitement and looked at the boys. "Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy! I can't believe we get to find out what happened to Sheriff Clark! I've been waiting all week to hear what happens next!" The girl grabbed Xavier's cheeks and kissed his forehead. "Thank you so much for fixing the radio before the broadcast! You're the best!"

It was clear that Xavier couldn't get enough of the other two's praise, basking in it.

"Well seems to me like we have quite the show ahead of us. Olivia, you better get ready. I think Xavier deserves the full effect." Victor clutched Olivia's arm who nodded her head enthusiastically. She scrambled to get to the giant cardboard box in one corner of the tiny attic, close to a blanket fort with an old dusty chest at the back of it. There was just enough room between the chest and the back of the fort for two people to kneel behind. It appeared to be a makeshift stage.

As Olivia and Victor began quickly sifting through the cardboard box, pulling at several old and oversized garments, Xavier placed the radio on top of the chest and went about positioning several pillows and blankets about himself, in front of the chest. He clutched onto a ratty old stuffed animal that slightly resembled a shark.

Once the two eldest were satisfied, they crawled through the entrance of the fort and behind the chest. Victor wore an oversized cowboy hat with a brown vest and a paper star pinned to the front. Olivia wore a thin white knitted shawl across her shoulders with a large button down woman's shirt that once may have been beautiful but since had lost its shine with age.

As they busied themselves with several objects behind the chest the song on the radio died down. Xavier stared at the radio in anticipation as he waited for the all too familiar captivating voice he looked forward to hearing most evenings.

"Welcome everyone! Welcome, to the sound of suspense! To the sound of excitement! To the sound of dread! Last week we left off with the brave Sheriff Clark about to face his long time enemy and rival the fearsome outlaw, Calamity Sam! Sheriff Clarks longtime love, the beautiful Isabell Jackson, is being held by Calamity Sam's men and at risk of being shot if the Sheriff doesn't go through with the deadly showdown at high noon. Will our hero prevail? Or will the great Calamity create further turmoil as he rages through the town? I'm your faithful host, Alastor! And I will be narrating this riveting story all the way from New Orleans. Stay tuned for after the story for further excitement with the likes of Arthur Fields and Sophie Tucker!"

As the story progressed, the two eldest children gave dramatic performances of the characters in the story, switching out outfits as each new character took center stage. They laughed as they acted out scenes while still half way dressed between one character and the next. All the while, Xavier stared captivated at them and the radio, his attention never once wavering. Eventually, the story came to a close and all three children sat around the radio as they listened to the host.

"Sheriff Clark lays bleeding in the barricaded church, in the arms of his love, while Calamity Sam and his men have the building surrounded. Will our two love birds ride off into the sunset together or will this be another tragic love story with no happy ending? Stay tuned for next week to find out the thrilling conclusion to the final show down between hero and foe! Now up next, Let me Call You Sweetheart by the Peerless Quartet!"

The sounds of the trumpets and static from the radio filled the room, twisting about the three children. The eldest grabbed the other two, with an arm thrown around each of their shoulders and pulled them backwards into the various pillows and blankets strung out around them. They laughed as he pulled them back.

"That. W-w-was. Incredible!" said Xavier with his hands raised above him. "I c-c-c-can't believe that th-the Deputy showed up and too-too-took down C-c-calamity Sam's r-r-right hand man!"

"Hah! As if Deputy Stevens wouldn't show up to help out the Sheriff. Despite their differences they always are sure to be there for each other," said Victor.

"Yeah! And I love that Isabell was able to break free from Calamity's men so she could help the Sheriff get to safety. That was so exciting! And of course, it was quite the performance by me." Olivia had got up to her knees and put a hand to her chest with a dramatic flare. The boys laughed but it held no mocking tone.

"Of course. I do always say you're meant for the stage, Olivia," said Victor.

"O-o-or a r-r-radio shhhhow," said Xavier.

"Exactly!" shouted Victor. He sat up and turned a blinding smile towards the two. "Just like I've been saying! Just you wait, some day we'll have our own show and it'll be the biggest one too. The biggest this side of the Mississippi River!"

Olivia rolled her eyes and laughed. "Yeah right. Like we could ever compete with Alastor. He's a legend!"

"Yes, but that's now. I'm talking about the future!" Victor threw out his arm, gazing into the distance. "He can't stay on top forever! Some day Alastor is going to have to go up against VOX!"

"Vox?" questioned Olivia. She tilted her head and raised an eyebrow.

"I-i-it's Latin for v-v-voice," said Xavier who also sat up to look at the other two.

Victor ruffled his hair. "Look at our little genius. That's exactly right!"

Olivia still looked confused and furrowed her eyebrows. "So Alastor is going to have to go up against...our voice?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes! I mean it IS radio," said Victor. "But VOX also has another meaning. It's our names! Victor, Olivia, Xavier. VOX! A rather brilliant name for ourselves if I do say so myself especially if we want to get into radio."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "I thought you wanted to get into the business of MAKING radios and other technology, not wanting to be on the radio."

"Why not both?" shrugged Victor. "I say we have the ability to do it all if we really wanted to. I mean look at us, we got your stunning acting skills Olivia. Xavier here is an ace at fixing anything. And I'm sure it's only a matter of time before he starts making his own new and improved radios. We all also have the drive and imagination for story telling."

"Yeah and what do you specifically have? Besides an oversized head," said Olivia. Xavier snickered.

"Why that oversized head of my is clearly perfect for being the head of our little company. I'll be the face of the whole operation with my charming personality." Victor gave a wink to the younger two garnering another laugh from Xavier and another eye-roll from Olivia. She was barely restraining her smile, however.

"Oh please. You're about as charming as a donkey's ass," she said.

Victor clutched his hand to his chest and gave a dramatic gasp. "Olivia! My dearest sister! How you wound me so!"

"Oh you'll get over it."

"What about you Xavier? What do you say? You a doubter like our sister here or are you going to dream big like your big brother?" Victor placed on hand on Xavier's shoulder and bent slightly towards him. Xavier's enthusiastic expression fell and turned anxious. He looked at the floor and clutched his stuffed animal closer to his chest.

"I-I-I do-don't th-th-think I'm m-m-made fffffor radio." The small boys stutter increased with his nervousness, making him tense up even more.

"Nonsense! You got a stutter, so what? I'm telling you, you get better and better each day and the more you practice and more confident you get the less you stutter. You'll be talking perfect circles around even myself in no time!"

"Hah!" laughed Olivia. "I don't think anyone could talk circles around you!"

Victor stuck out his tongue at Olivia, who returned the childish gesture with gusto. They only stopped once their younger brother began to quietly speak again.

"Bu-bu-but wwwwhattt if I d-d-d-don't?"

Victor gently lifted Xavier's chin to have him look at him. He then gave Xavier a soft smile. "Hey. Even if your stutter never goes away there's nothing to worry about. If you have that stutter forever that's alright. Because you got us. We'll never leave your side. It's like I always say..."

All three children said in unison, "Trust us!" And they laughed.

Suddenly a loud bang could be heard from downstairs, signally the slamming of a door. All three tensed.

"Dad's home," whispered Olivia.

"Let's just stay up here for a little bit and wait to see how he is. If we're lucky he's not TOO drunk," Victor said in any equally quiet voice.

They could hear distant heavy steps stomping through the house. Occasionally loud bangs could be heard and the odd curse. None of it was too loud, however, giving the kids hope that tonight would be one of the more pleasant evenings. Their hope was shattered when a loud clanging noise reached their ears followed by a loud, "XAVIER!!! YOU LITTLE SHIT!!!"

Olivia clutched onto her little brother who hunched over and barred his face in his stuffed animal.

"Stay up here. I'll deal with this." Victor squeezed Olivia's shoulder and placed his hand on the top of Xavier's head. He wore a steely expression with hard eyes before standing and walking towards the attics door.

"No! Victor don't! Don't go down there!" Olivia pled with her brother in a harsh whisper but did not move from her spot where she held Xavier.

"If I don't he'll come up here and drag Xavier down. Don't worry. I can handle him. He's less likely to hit me." Victor gave a weak smile before pushing the door open and crawling down the steps that extended from it.

Once downstairs Victor followed the sounds of yelling and curses. As he got closer he saw his mother in the kitchen working away at making dinner, acting like she didn't hear her husband. Victor stopped and looked at her and she looked up when she noticed him. She scowled and asked, "Where is your brother? He left his garbage all over the floor and your father tripped."

"I'll clean it up," he said.

His mother scoffed and went back to her work. "You can't protect him forever, you know. Some day he'll have to man up and take responsibility."

Victor scowled. "He's only 7."

"Yes and you were far more independent and articulate then he was at his age. He needs to grow up or he'll remain a child forever."

Victor didn't say another word to his mother, knowing that it was a pointless argument. She wasn't the one he needed to sooth anyways. No use in wasting his time and efforts on her. Another shout of "XAVIER!" could be heard from the living room.

Victor walked towards the other room and turned the corner in time to see his father throw a clump of wires across the room, hitting the couch. There were various items on the floor, all of which looked to be old pieces of various radios and tools.

"That pathetic little shit! Cowerin' and hidin' somewhere because he's too scared to face the consequences of his actions. You hear tha' boy?! I know you're in this damn house somewhere! You better get in here Xavier or I swear to God I'll make you wish you were never born!"

"Father," said Victor. The angry man in the middle of the room turned around quick, in a rage, stumbling slightly at the too quick movement.

"Where the fuck is that little shit?! I know you know where he is, boy." His father advanced on him quickly and grabbed the front of his shirt.

"Xavier didn't mean to leave his stuff everywhere. He was trying to help fix our radio so we could listen to our show."

"Your fuckin' show. That fuckin' show! That's all you kids ever care about! You know there are far more important things in life then that fuckin' show! Especially with that fuckin' host! You know I hear there's rumors of him being a black man! He’s poisoning your mind, boy, and you're lettin' him poison your sibling's minds too!" Victor's father jabbed a fat finger into the middle of Victor's forehead repeatedly. The stench of alcohol on his breath assaulted Victor's senses.

"Your brother don't need more corruptin'. He's already a whinny little coward who can't even say his own damn name! He spends all his time tinkerin' with this useless junk when he should be learnin' about a real man's work!"

Victor glared at his father. "He's smart, dad. He's going to go far in life with that tinkering of his. Much farther then your skills of working in some factory ever did."

The smack was entirely expected but no less startling from the pain. A tiny gasp could be heard from across the room near the other entrance to the living room. Victor and his father both turned to find Olivia half standing behind the wall, looking into the room. Xavier stood behind her with only one eye within view as he held onto the back of her clothes with white knuckles.

With the subject of their father's ire within view he diverted his full attention to Xavier and he stormed across the room to grab the boy. He grabbed ahold of Xavier's arm who cried out in fear and pain.

"There you are! Don't you fuckin' hide behind your sister! Be a man for once!"

"Dad, please don't-" Victor was cut off with a hard shove from their father.

"Shut up! I'm not talkin' to you!" Their father drug Xavier into the middle of the room and threw him to the floor next to several of his belongings.

"What the fuck is all this? Huh? How many times do I gotta tell ya, I don't want to see any o' this shit layin' around here! DO YOU HEAR ME?!"

Xavier whimpered and attempted to hold back the tears that were welling in his eyes. Xavier nodded his head at his father.

"I asked you a question boy! You speak when you're spoken to!"

Xavier's bottom lip quivered as he opened his mouth and attempted to speak. In the face of his father's wrath words escaped him.

"SPEAK! SPEAK DAMMIT!"

"I-I-I-I d-d-d-d-d-"

"You, you, you, you what? Fuckin' talk! Or is something as basic as speech too difficult for ya'?!"

"Dad enough!" shouted Victor.

"No! He needs to learn! You think he's so goddamn smart but he can't even fucking speak right! He puts our family to shame with his pathetic behavior!"

"You do that enough on your own!"

Everything went deathly still. Olivia stared wide-eyed into the living room and Xavier's shoulders hunched up towards his ears. Their father turned slowly towards Victor who had a wild and fearful look in his eyes but he stood his ground.

"What did you say?" asked their father in a slow and measured tone of voice.

Victor said nothing.

"You think I'm the one who brings shame to this family? Me? I'm the one who provides for you. Gives you a roof over your head. Puts food on the table. I do EVERYTHING for you." He began to slowly walk back towards his eldest son, leaving the younger trembling on the floor on his knees. Victor could feel his resolve dwindling with each step.

"You do not speak to me like that in my own home. You don't speak to me like that EVER! GOT IT!"

Victor nodded his head. "Y-y-yes sir."

Their father sneered. "Don't you fucking start too. I can't have another useless child on my hands."

Their father turned back around and walked towards Xavier who he grabbed by the shirt and hauled to his feet. He got into Xavier's face and growled, "You are going to clean all of this up and then you are going to go to your room without any supper. Understood?"

Xavier nodded his head, not able to trust his own voice. This only angered their father further who let out a viscous growl before he struck Xavier with a fist to his left eye. Xavier crumpled to the ground upon impact, crying out. He heard his brother and sister shout his name as he felt another blow.

____________________

Vox awoke with a start.

He sat up panting and could feel a phantom pain in his left eye. No. It wasn't a memory of his pain. His left eye was in pain. He brought a shaking hand up to the left side of his face and could feel the spider-web of cracks splintering across that side of his screen. He flinched and brought his hand back down.

As he clawed the rest of his way to wakefulness he remembered what happened. He was right that Valentino wasn't going to be happy about how the meeting went.

Ultimately Vox decided upon telling the other Vee's that the meeting was with the Princess and that he had been sent their under false pretenses. He just told the other Vee's that Charlie was seeking him out as a potential benefactor to her damned hotel. He thought that was the least likely to piss off Valentino and would actually get them to laugh at the absurdity of such a request. Which at first, that worked, but later after Velvet had left to her own apartment, leaving Vox with Valentino things took a turn.

Valentino was annoyed that Vox hadn't properly vetted the request and had gone there to waste his time. Nevermind the fact that Lucifer DID in fact set up the meeting himself so it's not like Vox could have vetted things any further.

But once they got talking and arguing about the hotel that led to other hotel related topics such as Alastor and one thing led to another. Valentino was getting increasingly more annoyed by Vox's obsession over the Radio Demon. Doesn't matter that Valentino has his own obsessions that he can't shake.

Vox sighed and leaned back in his bed, resting his back on his headboard and pillows. Despite the lingering pain, Vox couldn't help but fiddle with the cracks on his screen. Vox attempted to slow down his rapidly beating heart.

It had been a while since Vox had had any dreams of his early childhood, let alone about his father. There were so many other monsters he'd met over the years who were a far more frequent guest in his nightmares. He could see why this particular memory plagued him though, with the throbbing pain on his eye that was so familiar. Then again, there were so many other memories that his subconscious could have chosen from to mirror the same pain. Vox briefly wondered how many times he'd been hit in the left eye during his life and death. He supposed most people were right handed so it would make sense why his left eye took most of the beatings.

Regardless of why his subconscious chose this memory to revisit he supposed he couldn't exactly complain. It was a....pleasant memory in it's own right. While it did not end well the beginning of the memory was nice. It felt safe.

Of course, as was always the case, that safety never lasted. He wished that his brothers words of never leaving him were true. But like most childish hopes and promises, it was so hard to try and keep.

Vox checked his internal clock and saw that it was still fairly early with a couple hours still before daylight. He knew that he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep though so he resigned himself to getting up and getting a head start on his day. Wasn't a bad idea especially considering he was planning on wasting a good chunk of his time later by going to that fucking hotel. It would have to be later in the afternoon too because he definitely wasn't going over there with a cracked screen. The delivery for a new one was expected for early afternoon. Looked like the first half of the day would be a work from home sort of day. Thankfully after Valentino's rage from the night before he decided to leave as well and left for his own apartment instead of deciding to stick around. Small mercies.

Vox got himself dressed and ready for the day, hoping that the activity would be able to distract him from his dream and thoughts. Soon enough he was ready and in pristine condition, besides the obvious cracks. Vox took a couple pain killers to try and dull the ache but knew it wouldn't feel better until he had replaced the screen.

His anxieties over his 'second' meeting with Charlie started to rise up with everything that would entail. Would he be able to do anything to help? Did he even really want to be able to help? And if he can't help, what then? Will that be the end of Alastor?

With thoughts of Alastor, Vox wondered if that was another reason for his nightmare. Of course the memory would include Alastor with him being ever present on his mind. It's just he didn't expect a memory from a time when they were both still just humans on Earth. Like his father, he hadn't thought of Alastor's radio show from when he was alive in quite some time. Granted, Vox purposefully tried not to think of it. It left a bitter taste in his mouth now. Something that was so precious and shared with his siblings was now tarnished by the memories from Vox knowing him personally as a demon. What was it that people always said? Don't meet your heroes?

Vox sat on a stool at an island in his kitchen and sipped slowly at a steaming cup of coffee. His gaze could not stop turning to a picture hanging on his wall across the apartment. Behind the picture he knew was his safe. No one even knew about the safe. Not even Valentino or Velvet. He knew if they knew they'd be pissy about not having access to it. While Velvet's annoyance wasn't what he worried about, Valentino's certainly was.

Vox hadn't opened the safe in years and so he knew that everything in there was right where he left it. He didn't have a chance to check it the night prior due to Valentino. After Val left, he was in far too much pain to even think of the safe.

Vox continued to stare as he sipped at his coffee. His leg bounced up and down in anxiety. Once he was done with the coffee, he finally allowed himself the opportunity to remove the picture and open his safe.

Once he opened it, he let out a sigh of relief upon seeing the book still there. Again, he logically knew the book would have to still be there because it's not like it could up and leave on it's own. And yet, given the nature of the book who knows if that was actually possible or not.

Vox reached inside and pulled it out looking at the many different symbols on the front indicating what sort of unsavory content was inside. While he hadn't looked at the book in years, the symbols were all too familiar. He'd seen them countless times surrounding his rival during extreme shows of strength and bloodlust.

It was a spell book. One comprised of the dark, twisted version of the more traditional Voodoo magic. From Vox's understanding, not all Voodoo magic was dark like Alastor's. This just so happened to be the kind he utilized.

Vox opened the front cover and could feel a dark aura emanating from it. He shivered but plowed onwards, knowing that what ever magic that was attached would not harm him.

He flipped through the pages, taking note of specific spells he believed could be of use in aiding Alastor. Granted, Vox knew Alastor had this entire spell book memorized so he assumed he had already tried all the spells that required no one else besides Alastor himself to use it. Vox looked for other spells that necessitated another person's involvement. Of course, there were quite a few that demanded some sort of price to be paid.

Vox reminded himself there was a reason he hadn't used this spell book once since he had stolen it from Alastor. It served as a last resort against the other demon. And a means of humiliation for having something so precious taken from him.

No doubt that if Vox is successful in his attempt at aid, Alastor will be beyond pissed to know how Vox accomplished it.

Vox was startled from his perusal of the book by a buzzing in his pocket. Vox pulled out his cell phone and saw he had received a text from Val. He swallowed hard before opening the text.

VAL:
Oh baby, I'm so sorry for last night. You know I hate it when you make me hurt you like that.

Vox scowled. More text messages came through.

VAL:
You just make me so fucking crazy sometimes.

VAL:
Let me make it up to you. Let me make you feel good tonight.

Vox closed his eyes tight. The action causing pain to shoot through his left eye. He gasped and opened his eyes again. He set the book down in the safe and began to text back.

VOX:
That sounds lovely.

VAL:
I can't wait to get your squirming little body underneath me. It's all I'll be thinking of until then. xx

Vox shoved his cell phone back into his pocket with a shaking hand. He could feel the bullet in his pocket as he did so. Vox returned his gaze to the book laying in the safe in front of him. God, was he tired. It was just one thing after another. He closed the safe and returned the picture to the wall over it.

Ugh. Today was going to be a long and hellish day.

Notes:

I'm sure y'all have realized that Xavier is meant to be Vox. Here's some info about the three siblings and how old they're supposed to be:

Xavier - DOB: 1905 (7 years old in 1912)
Olivia - DOB: 1902 (10 years old in 1912)
Victor - DOB: 1899 (13 years old in 1912)

According to the Hazbin Hotel wiki, Alastor is stated to have died sometime in his 30's-40's in 1933. For the purposes of this story he was born in 1890 making him 22 years old in 1912 and 43 at the time of his death. I wanted Alastor to be older than Vox and for Vox to have listened to Alastor's radio show while growing up.

Also, I really honestly don't know much about the history of radio. I tried to do some research and couldn't really find the answers to my questions. Like I have no idea how far radio waves intended for the public could reach in 1912. I have a feeling not very far but I also have no idea what that means. For the purposes of this story I'm kind of ignoring the fact that any radio show that Alastor had in New Orleans at the time likely didn't reach past the city limits. I will say that Vox and his siblings are meant to be in some sort of small town in the far south of Mississippi. I figured that way he's at least relatively close to where Alastor is so he could plausibly (relatively speaking) be able to hear the radio show. I honestly don't really care to state where Vox is from specifically other then it's a small rural town. Other than that the specifics aren't exactly important to the story.

Anyways, that's about all I got for you right now. I more than likely will not be updating this story as fast as I did. It's just since I started this story I can't seem to get it out of my mind and had to write more. So I hope y'all enjoyed chapter 2. Stay tuned for chapter 3!

Chapter 3: A Debt Paid

Summary:

Vox finally arrives at the hotel, ready to help Alastor. Charlie attempts to deal with the fallout.

Notes:

I continue to be completely blown away by the everyone's response to this story. I'm so glad everyone is excited for more and more.

Someone did ask if I am planning on updating on a set day of the week. I honestly don't know. The only reason why I have updated multiple times this past week was because I had been out of work for a couple days due to being sick so I had more free time. I will say that I hope to update at least once a week because I do genuinely enjoy writing this story and can't seem to stop.

TW for this chapter:
some body horror

Vox brushed his hand gently across the left side of his now pristine face. While no cracks remained, whenever he had to change his screen he could feel phantom pain lingering on his face. It was something that pain killers rarely could help with but nothing he couldn't handle. The majority of the pain was now gone and he could at least focus on the task ahead of him.

Yet again, Vox found himself in his limousine driving towards Charlie Fucking Morningstar. However, this time his destination was her shitty hotel. Vox genuinely never thought he'd be driving towards the hotel unless if it was to one day tear it down himself. Yet, the extermination showed that that was apparently a useless endeavor because they'd just build the blasted thing back up again. And in record time too.

As Pentagram City rushed past the moving vehicle, Vox gazed outside with his head resting on his hand. He could see the hotel looming in the distance, growing ever bigger. In a matter of minutes he'd be at his destination.

Equal parts of Vox wanted to prolong his arrival as much as possible and get this over with as fast as he could. Another part of him wanted to tell his driver to turn around and head back to Vee Tower. He had a date he needed to prepare for. Something that he was ALSO dreading and really didn't want to partake in.

Val's steady string of texts throughout the day talking about his anticipation only ramped up Vox's anxiety over the matter.

Don't think about that right now, thought Vox. Focus on one matter at a time.

He returned his attention to outside and saw that the hotel was just up the hill. Within moments he had arrived at the Hazbin Hotel. With a deep breathe and a mindless feel for the book in his jacket, Vox opened the door and strode towards the hotel as if he owned it. No hesitation. No nervousness. Put on an air of confidence and no one will be any the wiser.

As he got to the front door it opened without him needing to raise his hand to knock. Clearly the Princess had been waiting anxiously for his arrival. He wondered if she had been standing by the front door, looking through it's window for the past seventeen minutes since he had texted her he was on the way. He wouldn't be surprised if she had.

Next to the Princess stood her ever present shadow, the exterminator. Even though Vox was sure he'd be able to take her just fine in a fight, his skin still crawled being this close in proximity to an angel. Once his eye's turned to her, her already narrowed eyes narrowed further, challenging the Overlord to make even one wrong move. He wanted to roll his eye's at her ridiculous posturing but instead he simply ignored her and returned his attention to the Princess.

"Vox!! You're here!" cried Charlie. Vox raised a single eyebrow.

"Uhh, yeah. I texted you I was on my way. You texted back. Twelve times," he drawled.

Charlie gave a nervous chuckle. "Yes I know. Just wasn't sure if you would actually show up."

Vox felt insulted. I mean sure, he had just been thinking about turning around and not showing up, but still. Insulted.

Vox pulled on the lapels of his jacket. "When I give my word, I mean it."

Vaggie scoffed and muttered something under her breathe that Vox was sure he didn't want to hear otherwise he was sure to start a fight with the angel. Charlie's elbow being jammed into Vaggie's side while still staring at Vox with a strained, yet blinding, smile was a definite confirmation of this. Vox told himself to continue to ignore the exterminator.

"Well anyways, why don't I give you a formal welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!" Charlie stepped back and threw her arm out towards the interior of the hotel, pulling the door further open. Vox side-stepped the angel who stubbornly refused to move. Once inside Vox was surprised by the clean and orderly interior. He imagined it would have been more....bleak. Well, he supposed this was a new building. The old hotel was likely far more dilapidated if the exterior was anything to go by.

"Over here we have the parlor for where our guests can get to know each other and over there is our concierge desk that doubles as the bar," indicated Charlie as she ushered Vox inside. Behind the bar Vox saw Husk cleaning a mug and staring at him.

Husk nodded. "Vox."

"Husk," he nodded back. "It's been a while. How long exactly has it been?"

Husk shrugged. "Eight. Nine years. Give or take."

Vox hummed. "And how have you been?"

"I've been better," grumbled Husk.

"Oh I bet. I'd imagine up until about seven months ago you had been doing wonderfully, for what was it? Seven years? Give or take." Husk glared at Vox.

"Yeah. Something like that," he muttered.

"Then why the Hell would you tell the Princess that I could help Alastor? If he dies your life gets a hundred times better."

Husk's eyes shifted from Vox to the Princess standing next to him who was watching the exchange with rapt attention. Husk then turned his eyes to the far corner of the parlor where another figure sat in an armchair far away from anyone's notice. Vox looked and saw it was Angel Dust, one of Valentino's...employees. Angel Dust looked back with a weary expression on his face.

"There's some people who care for Alastor. For better or worse. And they'd hate to see him die. So. I told them you could help."

Vox continued to stare at Angel Dust who stared back but fidgeted in his seat. It was clear that Vox's presence unnerved him. If Vox was being honest with himself, Angel Dust's presence unnerved him too.

Another figure walked over to Angel Dust and positioned herself on the armrest, between Angel Dust and Vox, glaring at Vox. It was a white-skinned cyclops-like demon, with an X-shaped pupil. She had long strawberry blonde-pink hair pulled back into a half-ponytail and clothing that sported many holes. He recognized the demon from his viewing of the extermination. If he recalled her name was Cherri?

"You can help, right?" asked Husk, pulling Vox's attention away from Angel Dust.

Vox shrugged. "We shall see." Husk hummed as he continued to stare at Vox. He felt slightly unnerved with all eyes on him. While he usually enjoyed attention and having eyes on him, in this context it was just unsettling. It felt like his skin was crawling. And then he felt something ACTUALLY start to crawl up his leg, and then his back before grabbing ahold of the back of his television head.

Vox reared back with the motion, flailing his arms out to keep himself balanced when a small head with a single eye taking up most of it stared back at him, hanging upside down as the creature stared at him from behind him.

Husk laughed at him. "You remember Nifty!"

Nifty gave a maniacal giggle. "I've missed my big shiny bad boy."

Vox cringed and grabbed the back of Nifty's dress at the scruff of her neck, prying her off his head with not an insignificant amount of effort. As he held her away from his body she flailed her arms out towards him, desperately trying to grab him. "Yes, I most definitely remember Nifty. Unfortunately."

Charlie grabbed Nifty from Vox's hands, holding the demon like a child. Nifty continued trying to claw her way to Vox, even as Charlie passed Nifty off to Vaggie who cooed to the tiny woman as if she truly was a child.

"Sorry about that," said Charlie with a nervous chuckle. "She's...a lot sometimes."

"Yes. I know." Vox adjusted his jacket and dusted off invisible dust. As he did so, Charlie gave him an inquisitive look. "You do know, don't you?" asked Charlie.

Vox looked at her, confused by her question. "I mean, you and Alastor, you're not just rivals are you? You're so much more than that," continued Charlie.

Vox scowled and pointed at Charlie. "What did I say? No questions! As soon as you start with that shit I'm walking out the door and there's nothing you can do to get me back here to help."

Charlie raised her hands in a placating manner. "Got it. Got it. No questions. Sorry. I just can't help myself sometimes."

"Well you better control yourself because if you don't then I swear to your father I WILL leave." Charlie nodded quickly and gave him a thumbs up. He glared but didn't say anything more. "Now that we got that settled, I do believe I came here for a REASON."

"Right! Of course! Follow me!" Charlie turned around and strode off towards the stairs, bounding up them quickly. Vox followed at a more sedated pace, with Vaggie following closely behind him. He figured she would be tagging along. No doubt she didn't trust him alone with Charlie for a second. He chose to take it as a complement, her belief in his power and the threat he posed.

The Princess led him down multiple hallways, far away from the front of the hotel. A thought entered his mind that he was being led towards a trap and far away from any possible escape routes. Was Alastor truly injured? Was this all a ploy? He dismissed it, however, because while Alastor was a master manipulator, pretending to be weak and injured was not his style. Besides, Vox highly doubted that the Princess would willingly participate in such a plan.

Vox looked at her out of the corner of his eye as they continued walking, silently watching her innocent face that wore a determined look. Either she was truly the best actor he had ever met, and he'd met plenty in his time, or she really was that pure-of-heart despite the fucked up place she grew up in. Vox was suddenly hit with an uncomfortable sense of familiarity.

Before he could dwell too long on that feeling, Charlie suddenly stopped. They had arrived at a door that seemed to exude unease, paranoia, and evil. This was the right place alright. Alastor's bedroom.

Charlie opened the door and the uneasy feeling increased. Every bone and circuit in his body was screaming at him to turn around. Vox determinedly ignored the feeling and walked inside.

Off to the far side of the wall was a bed with the headboard pushed up against it. On the bed lay a figure, buried underneath blankets. Vox approached but stopped several steps away when he saw the figures face. It was most assuredly Alastor but he was unlike anything Vox had ever seen him before. His face was pale and his hair was disheveled. Vox could see bandages peaking out from underneath the blanket wrapped up on his shoulders and chest. Alastor's chest rose and fell with each breathe far slower than could be normal for anyone, living or in the afterlife.

But what truly unnerved Vox was the lack of smile upon the Radio Demon's face. Not a single trace of a smile remained. It felt...unnatural.

As if sensing his weariness Charlie walked up to stand next to him. "It's weird isn't it? See him like this?"

"Yeah," said Vox, quietly.

"You ever seen him like this?" asked Charlie.

"No," he said, ignoring the fact it was a question. Vox's answer seemed to upset Charlie. He noticed out of the corner of his eye her shoulder's raise and her scowl deepen.

"If you've never seen him hurt like this, are you sure you can help him?" she asked.

"No," he said simply. Without another word Vox continued forward and stopped right next to the side of the bed, looming over Alastor. At his approach the shadows began to move. About damn time. He was surprised that they hadn't reacted upon him first entering the room. Hell, he was surprised they hadn't responded upon him entering the hotel. But he supposed Alastor's minion would be weakened along with its master's current state.

Vox saw Alator's shadow peak out from behind him, growing in size and crawling up the wall. The shadow growled at Vox and barred it's teeth at him.

"Don't," warned Vox. "What do you think you're going to do anyways? Rip me to shreds? You wouldn't stand a chance in your master's weakened state."

The shadow glared at him as symbols fazed in and out of existence around itself and Alastor. Vox stood his ground though, refusing to back down in the face of a very obvious intimidation tactic. Charlie and Vaggie weren't so unaffected, looking around anxiously as they took a couple steps closer to each other.

As Vox continued to stare down the shadow it eventually settled down and the eerie symbols stopped flashing through the room. However, the shadow continued to glare at Vox.

"That's better," Vox said with a sniff. "Now is it really so hard to be civil?" A low growl could be heard from the shadow. Apparently it was.

"What are you doing? Trying to play nice with Alastor's shadow," asked Vaggie in a disbelieving tone.

"Actually yes," said Vox. "You want me to get close to Alastor and try to help him? I've gotta first get his little pet to allow me close enough to see exactly what the problem is."

The shadow perked up at the mention of Vox helping Alastor. It was no longer giving off a low growl like a dog defending it's master.

Vox smirked. "That's right. I'm here to try and help the bastard. Why else would I be here? To kill him? At this point me killing him looks like it would be a mercy."

Charlie and Vaggie both tensed while the shadow growled at this. Vox rolled his eyes and threw his hands above his head. "I'm not gonna! It was a rhetorical question! Fucking Hell!"

"Sorry. It's just everyone is a little on edge. It's been...a tough couple of weeks," said Charlie. Vox hummed. He supposed he couldn't argue with that.

"Yes well I wouldn't come all this way just to kick a dog while it's down. I'd just leave him to his suffering if I wanted to be cruel," said Vox. Charlie simply nodded.

Vox eyeballed the shadow, unsure of how to proceed without causing too much chaos. He doubted there was much he could do to calm the entity once it saw what he had brought with. "I know you're going to be pissed but I need you to not freak out. I honestly am here to try and help your master," he said. The shadow made no response as Vox knew it couldn't. But all the same, he knew the shadow understood him, just might not believe him.

Vox then slowly reached inside of his jacket pocket and pulled out the book . As soon as he pulled it out the shadow screeched and grew in size once more. The room darkened and the floor shook. So much for remaining calm.

"Alright you made your point! You're fucking pissed! Calm the fuck down or you're just going to drain your energy and Alastor's along with it!!" shouted Vox. Surprisingly, the shadow obeyed and stopped the shaking and screeching. It still loomed over the room at it's increased height, however. Shit. If the shadow listened to him that quickly it meant it really was quite weak. And so was Alastor. They were running out of options and the shadow knew it. It meant that it would turn to even Vox for aid.

"What the FUCK is that? Why the Hell did Alastor's shadow react that way?" cried Vaggie. For fuck's sake, thought Vox. The angel had pulled out her spear. At least she wasn't pointing it at Vox currently. If anything the spear was pointed more towards the shadow.

"Well clearly this is a book. I can understand your confusion. I'm sure you haven't encountered many of these in your pitiful existence." Vaggie growled but Vox ignored her and continued. "As to your second question, because this book, if used correctly, could kill Alastor and in turn the lwa attached to him."

"Lwa?" asked Charlie.

"Yes. It's a spirit. Something from the Voodoo religion. Typically humans provide sacrifices and offerings to lwa in exchange for protection and blessings. There's several different pantheons but the two most common are the Rada and Petwo. Alastor's shadow is a Petwo lwa. Petwo are typically more aggressive and dangerous then their counterparts. Which this one most definitely is." The shadow seemed to preen under such a statement, taking Vox's words as a complement.

"This lwa, however, is rather unusual. It's seemed to form a sort of symbiotic relationship with Alastor. I don't really know why or understand it but the two garner power from one-another."

Vaggie hummed. "Freaky," she said. For once Vox actually agreed with her.

"Soooo what are you going to do with the book then? You just said that it could kill Alastor and the...lwa," said Charlie as she gave him the side-eye.

Vox refrained from rolling his eyes at her continued distrust. "Yes. But it can also save Alastor. Or at least I hope it can. But first I need to see what I'm working with."

Vox looked at the shadow. "If you don't mind, I'd like to see his wound."

The shadow did not move at first, only glowered at Vox. Eventually it began to move and extended it's arms towards Alastor. It moved the blanket back, revealing Alastor's torso that was naked except for the bandages wrapped around it. The shadow pushed it's hand under part of the bandage and tore it with little effort. It then began unraveling Alastor to reveal what was underneath.

"Fuck," said Vox. To say the wound was ugly was putting it mildly. A large cut reached from his left shoulder, across his chest, and extended down to his lower right side. A spiderweb of yellow veins could be seen extending from the cut, crawling along his abdomen and chest. Yellow pus was oozing from the wound, creating a foul stench that was putrid and nauseating.

"During the extermination Alastor fought Adam. Whatever Adam used to cut Alastor with we're pretty sure was coated in poisoned," said Charlie softly. Yeah, poison was more than likely. While it wasn't a common tactic employed by the angels it was deadly enough. Usually it wasn't discovered that poison had been used until it was too late, weeks after the extermination when some poor demon thought they'd just barely managed to escape with their life but instead was slowly dying a slow and painful death. Seems Alastor fell prey to it too.

"Hhhm. And your angel girlfriend couldn't help with this?" asked Vox.

Vaggie gave an annoyed sighed but responded. "No. Any sort of cure is up in Heaven. And it's not like we have an open communication with them right now. Especially after the last extermination."

"So they're ignoring your calls? Yeah that tends to happen when you start a war," said Vox.

"We weren't trying to start a war," said Charlie defensively. "I was just trying to defend my people."

"After you already pissed them off with your whole redemption plan. Well done," he said sarcastically.

Vox leaned forward to closely examine the wound. He ignored the low growl from the lwa. After looking at it he stood back up and started flipping through the book. "Let me guess, he already tried all the spells he could do on his own?" asked Vox of the shadow. He paused to look at it. It nodded after a moment. "Hhm. Figured. And of course he didn't ask anyone for assistance with the spells that required willing aid from someone else." Vox didn't even need to look up to know the shadow gave a reluctant nod.

Vox continued to look through until he found the spell he was looking for. He briefly looked through before nodding to himself. He turned it around to face the shadow. "How about this one? Will this one do?"

The shadow looked it over before turning to Vox and nodding. As far as prices go, it wasn't a steep one. Nothing so extreme as his life or soul. It was simple really.

Vox then reached inside his jacket once more, but paused. He turned and looked at Vaggie. "In order to help Alastor I need some of his blood and mine. So I'm going to pull out a knife from my jacket. Keep your spear away from me or I'll make good on my promise I made last time we met." The only response he got was Vaggie tightening her hands on her spear but at least she didn't point it towards him. Good enough.

He pulled the knife out and looked down at the book. He read through it once more before proceeding. He gave instructions to Charlie and Vaggie to bring him a bowl of hot water, alcohol, and some towels. Charlie left while Vaggie remained, no doubt to keep an eye on Vox. First he needed to clean the wound of as much of the foreign entity as possible which included the pus. He busied himself by removing his jacket and rolling up his sleeves as he waited. In no time at all Charlie returned with the assorted items, this time with company that assisted her in carrying everything. No doubt the rest of the hotel wished to witness what he was about to do next as well.

Vox pulled up a chair next to Alastor's bed as he got to work pushing out the pus from Alastor's wound. It was clear that the action caused the man pain as the shadow would give out the occasional shriek. Vox ignored it. So long as it allowed him to work and didn't attack him the noise was inconsequential. Alastor broke out in a cold sweat as he continued and his breathe became labored. Vox worried that if this didn't work than his actions will be what pushed the demon over the edge.

Charlie diligently assisted Vox as he instructed her on what item to give to him next as he washed out the wound. Occasionally Husk would aid him as well, handling the bottle of liquor Vox would use to pour over the cut to sterilize it. While Alastor was a living being and not something he was familiar with working on, the motion of attempting to fix something was familiar in it's own right with the dutiful aid of his assistants. His nightmare from the night before still lingered in his mind and as such he couldn't help but make the comparison to working alongside his siblings.

At long last, pus eventually stopped oozing from the wound as Vox pushed at it. Alastor's breathing had become shallow and shakes began to wreck through his body. The lwa had started to give off a low whine and seemed to droop. Vox needed to hurry. He didn't think he had many shots at this. This might be the one chance he had.

He quickly washed off his hands in the bowl of water before drying them on a clean towel. He picked his knife back up and whipped the blade off, removing any blood and pus remaining. Using his electrical powers, he heated up the blade to sterilize it once more.

"Everyone stand back. I don't know exactly what will happen once I cast the spell but there may be some sort of violent reaction once it's done," he said. Everyone took several steps back without question. Vox wished he could stand back as well. He'd never done this before and it made him nervous as to what may occur. The book spoke of the possibility of pain occurring but it did not specify how much. It seemed to vary between each lwa. Knowing the one Alastor was tied to there was sure to be a significant amount of it.

Vox positioned the book next to Alastor on the bed, open to the page where the spell was at. Taking a deep breathe he steeled himself for what came next. "Oh and one last thing. I know none of you trust me but for this to work I need all of you to not interfere. No matter what. Got it?"

Vox turned and looked at Charlie, only her. She wore a concerned expression on her face but once they locked eyes a determined look took over. She nodded at him and said, "Got it." Satisfied, Vox turned back to the book.

Vox began to read the words of the spell out loud, stumbling his way through the unfamiliar language. He knew it was Haitian Creole, of which he knew a handful of, but most of what he was reading were not words he knew. Some of the life seemed to return to the shadow which had snapped it's head towards Vox, devoting it's full attention to him. It crept ever closer towards Vox as he continued to speak the words allowed. Vox then bent over Alastor and dug the knife into the wound, shallowly cutting it further. This garnered several gasps from behind him but Vox paid it no mind. Either the Princess keeps her people in line or she doesn't and this will all be for naught. If they interfere they'll have no one else to blame but themselves.

The shadow gave a shriek at Vox cutting into Alastor but it didn't seem to be in anger at Vox's actions but rather in excited anticipation. Vox lifted up the knife as the shadow moved forward, opening its wide maw. Vox let several drops of the sick blood drip into the creatures mouth. He continued reading as he then grabbed Alastor's arm and placed the knife to his wrist. Vox cut a deep and long line down his forearm. The shadow eagerly moved forward as Vox lifted the arm up and over the creatures mouth once more, allowing a far more significant amount of blood to fall down. The shadow hungrily drank it up.

An ear piercing scream then tore itself from Alastor's mouth, startling everyone in the room including Vox. The only one who didn't seem to be affected was the lwa which wore a maniac expression. Alastor's back arched off the bed and his arms flailed at his sides.

"What the fuck!! What the fuck!! What the fuck is going on?" screamed Angel Dust.

"Do something!" screamed Vaggie.

Vox had been standing there in stunned silence until he heard Vaggie's cry. Vox looked to the book which had fallen to the ground in Alastor's flailing. He quickly grabbed it and frantically flipped through the pages to find the correct page again, all the while Alastor continued to scream a blood curdling scream. A high pitched squeal that Vox is all too familiar with from technology could also be heard.

"Vox!" shouted Husk.

"Fuck! I'm looking for the damn spell give me a second! Ah ha!" Vox cried out in triumph as he finally found it. He shoved the book into Charlie's hands who had stepped up next to him in the chaos, wanting to provide aid but unsure how to. "Hold it up so I can read it!"

Vox's eyes quickly scanned over the parts he had already read before finding where he left off. He started reading the words again but this time rushing forward in an attempt to quickly end this. He raised the knife he held above his opposite wrist before cutting into his skin as well. He hissed out in pain but he tore the knife up, creating an equally deep and long cut in his forearm to match Alastor's. The shadow quickly rushed forward like a feral animal about to attack it's prey. In a sense, Vox supposed that's what he was because before Vox could respond the shadow grabbed ahold of his arm and shoved it above it's head. Blood rushed into it's mouth which it drank up with enthusiasm. It's tongue rushed out of its maw, licking at Vox's arm to steal as much of his blood as it could.

As soon as the cold slimy tongue brushed his open wound Vox cried out in pain. White hot pain pierced his skin and traveled through his entire body. Stars burst into his vision, preventing him from seeing anything. Distantly, Vox was aware of him being released and him falling to the ground in a heap. He was unaware of anything else beside the continual pain coursing through his body. The pain levels steadily seemed to increase in its intensity making his skin feel like it was on fire. He mindlessly clawed at his forearm where the pain appeared to be coming from but this offered no relief.

As the pain grew and grew Vox thought, is this it? Am I really going to die? Somehow he always thought that eventually it would be Alastor that would be the end of him. Alastor and his own stupidity.

And then...it stopped.

Vox could feel himself gasping for air. Each breathe felt like needles in his lungs but he couldn't get enough. He coughed after several breathes, stinging his throat. He must have been screaming to cause his throat to feel like he had just gargled glass.

Slowly Vox gained his bearings and became aware of the rest of his body. He noticed he was laying on the ground and that there was a soft hand underneath his neck, holding him up slightly. He heard voices talking in panicked voices around him at far too loud of a volume. Yet he noticed that there was no longer any screaming. Alastor was quiet.

With a great amount of effort Vox opened his eyes. Above him he could see Charlie and Husk. Charlie was looking to the side of her, talking with someone else while Husk was looking down at him. Husk noticed his eyes opening and leaned forwards.

"Vox. Vox! Can you hear me? Talk to me dammit," he growled.

"I can hear you," muttered Vox with a scratchy voice. He coughed again after having spoke.

Charlie turned her attention to him and wore an entirely relieved expression. "Oh thank God you're alright! We were so worried about you! You just started screaming and Alastor was screaming and then you fell to the ground and thankfully Vaggie was able to catch you before your head hit the floor. But then you started convulsing and we had no idea what to do! And the lights were flashing and went out! And then all of a sudden both you and Alastor and his shadow just stopped and got super quiet and oh my God I can't believe that happened!"

There were tears in her eyes. Literal tears in the Princess's eyes. Was she crying for Vox? Surely not. She was just crying for Alastor and the stress of the situation.

"Yeah well. I did say I had no idea what was going to happen once I performed the spell." Vox continued to cough at the strain from speaking. He absentmindedly reached to his neck in an attempt to sooth the lingering pain. As he did this he realized that his collar was unbuttoned. He tensed up and his eyes widened. His neck was exposed.

Charlie and Husk both looked at the bright red mark looping around his neck. Charlie looked worried while Husk looked sad. "I unbuttoned your collar because you were gaspin' for air like a fish out of water. That's all. Didn't mean nothin' by it."

Vox struggled to push himself up which he only accomplished, he is embarrassed to say, thanks to Charlie. With shaking fingers he buttoned his shirt back up and then attempted to push himself to a standing position. Again, Charlie aided him but so did Husk once his legs gave out on him and he nearly fell back to the floor.

"Easy now. Don't want ya falling again," said Husk in a gentle voice.

Fuck him. Fuck him and his pity. He never asked for it and he certainly didn't need it. A voice in the back of his mind told Vox that Husk knew better than most the pain he experienced from the circumstances of his death. But Vox ignored this, too caught up in his own pain to notice.

He pushed Husk off him and shrugged off Charlie's hand. "I'm fine," he croaked out.

"Uh huh," Husk said simply. It was clear the demon didn't believe him but he wasn't going to push Vox further. It looked like Charlie was going to but then she paused once a noise came from the bed. All eyes turned towards the bed. Alastor was beginning to stir.

Within moments everyone began to crowd around the bed with the exception of Vox and Husk. The two took a couple steps back to give everyone else room while they watched the barely restrained excitement. Charlie began giving gentle encouragement to Alastor, guiding the demon to wakefulness.

Alastor eventually slowly opened his eyes and gazed towards Charlie who wore a blinding smile, again with tears in her eyes. This time the tears were freely streaming down her face and Vox noticed Angel Dust and Nifty were in a similar state.

Vox could tell the moment Alastor realized what was going on and had become fully awake. A smile tore itself across his face as if it had never left. Vox could see the strain around his eyes, annoyed at being caught in such a vulnerable state without a smile.

"Well to what do I owe such a rude awakening such as this? To have so many watching me sleep, uninvited in my bedroom?" Alastor's voice was strained and weak. If possible it sounded even worse than Vox's did moments ago.

Charlie's face fell slightly at Alastor's comment but her own smile did not disappear. "You were unconscious Alastor. For at least a week. We were worried about you."

"No need for concern, as I mentioned before. What was ailing me only needed to run it's course, as my wakefulness is any indication." Alastor began to cough but still stubbornly attempted to push himself up into a sitting position. Charlie, Vaggie, and Angel Dust all assisted him by pushing pillows behind him and supporting his body. Alastor scowled at the contact but did not push them off of him.

"Uhm actually, it didn't just run it's course exactly. We kind of got some help," said Charlie with a hesitant smile. Before Vox could try and get Charlie's attention to try and get her to shut up FOR ONCE, she stepped back slightly to give Alastor a view of Vox standing behind her.

The two locked eyes and the air felt electric. Vox felt frozen to the spot, prey caught in the gaze of a predator with no escape. Alastor's eye's narrowed and his lip curled to show more of his teeth. Vox suddenly realized that this was the first time he had seen Alastor in person in over seven years and he wanted nothing more than to leave.

"Vox," Alastor said his name menacingly, drawing out the word. "I don't remember inviting you to my home." Radio static could be heard emanating from the very air.

Vox attempted to stand up straight as possible, even in his still weakened state. He cleared his throat before talking, hoping that he would sound stronger than before. "No. But Charlie did."

Alastor's sharp eyes quickly turned to Charlie who gave a sheepish shrug. "I thought he could help."

"Don't take it out on the girl, Al." Husk stepped in, taking pity on the girl. "I told her that Vox might be able to help. And I was right. He did help you."

Alastor's threatening look then turned lightening quick to Husk. The other demon shrinked back slightly, afraid of what that look might mean. "I don't remember telling YOU that I needed help, either."

Vox didn't like how Alastor was looking at Husk so he stepped forward, drawing Alastor's attention back to him. "Yeah well it was obvious you needed it. Unconcious for a week? Pus oozing from you wound? Angel poison coursing through your body? If I hadn't come here you'd be dead."

"So you say. You don't have any idea what would have happened if you had just kept you're overly large head out of my business," Alastor said with a snarl.

Vox scoffed and crossed his arms. "I think I do. And I think you know what would have happened too, you just won't admit it because of your damned pride." Vox took on a mocking tone and said, "Alastor the Radio Demon. He's far too powerful to need help from anyone. Friends OR enemies."

Alastor chose to ignore the scarastic tone. "Well I'm glad we can agree on one thing, at least."

Vox was fuming. Alastor was being beyond difficult. But could he really expect anything else? It's not like he ever thought that Alastor would thank him for what he had done.

"You really are the most ridiculous demon I've ever met! Were you really going to let yourself die instead of asking one of your friends for help? Clearly there's multiple people here at this fucking hotel who give a shit about you and would have helped you out if you'd only just asked!" yelled Vox. Charlie and a couple of the others began to voice their agreement but Alastor ignored them, acting as if they weren't there.

"I don't need help," growled Alastor.

"Yes you do!" shouted Vox.

"And why do you care, exactly?" hummed Alastor. "What do you expect to get out of this? A favor? Not likely. I'd sooner tear your obnoxious head clean off your shoulders than do anything to aid you."

"Alastor!" cried Charlie in indignation on Vox's behalf.

Vox stared at Alastor as he was breathing heavy in anger. Alastor stared back with a feral smile and scrunched up nose.

Why? Why? Why would Vox do this? Why would he help Alastor?

Vox felt the slight weight in his pocket of the bullet. He thought about it and for a maddening moment he thought to pull it out and show Alastor. To do so would reveal his hand. Reveal his biggest weaknesses he has tried to get over all his afterlife. Alastor knew of it but Vox doubted he still knew it was such a heavy burden that still weighted him down.

But Vox was tired. So very tired. He felt as tired then as he did now. And some small part of Vox thought, maybe, just maybe, Alastor could be the one to pull him back from that edge once more. Maybe there was a chance of not being alone anymore.

Without any concious thought, Vox reached inside his pocket and pulled out the bullet. He concealed it behind his closed fist but slowly, oh so slowly, he peeled back his fingers. Vox extended his hand to show Alastor what he held who looked down at his hand. Alastor's eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion, not understanding what he was looking at. Slowly, understanding came to him.

Alastor began to laugh. He laughed and laughed. A sort of full body laugh that one could feel in their belly and was hard to stop. Alastor held onto his still wounded abdomen, clearly in pain from the laughing and yet he continued. Everyone looked at him in confusion but Vox could feel himself begin to shake again in anger.

"You- ha ha- you still- oh my word! Ha ha ha! You still have that thing?" Tears were in the corner of Alastor's eyes. "How pathetic! What? Do you think you owed me some sort of debt for saving your pathetic life? From preventing you from taking your life a second time? Ha ha ha ha ha!! I saved your life for no other reason than because I was bored and thought you were entertaining! Your life meant nothing to me! Ha ha ha!"

Vox shot forward and pushed past Charlie, grabbing ahold of Alastor's throat and slammed him back against the headboard of his bed. "You fucking piece of shit!! I should have let you die!!"

Vox was pulled back by Husk and Vaggie while Alastor kept laughing. Vox struggled in their grasp but they wouldn't let him go. He eventually allowed his electricity to shoot out from his arms and zap the two, causing them to cry out and jump back. Vox didn't lung at Alastor again though.

Vox pointed at Alastor with a shaking finger. Vox said in a deadly quiet voice, "We're done. Any debt I might or might not have owed you is over with. I owe you nothing now. Next time I see you, you are dead. Got it?!"

Vox quickly grabbed his jacket and the book that had fallen to the ground again. He covered it with his jacket, hiding from Alastor's view what book it was. Surely his shadow will inform him of what he had done and how he accomplished it so he knew eventually Alastor would find out but no need to bring it up now. Vox just wanted to get out of the hotel as fast as possible.

He stormed out of the room, causing Alastor's bedroom door to slam into the wall as he threw it open. He struggled to put on his jacket in his anger, ignoring his still bleeding arm.

Fuck Alastor. And fuck himself for ever thinking that Alastor might be able to bring him the salvation he so desperately craved. Vox didn't even realize he wanted it until moments ago and in his weakeness he decided to put himself out there and felt crushed as a result. Alastor either only saw the bullet as a reminder of him saving Vox's life once or that was the only reminder he chose to address. Either way, Vox hated him for making Vox see Alastor's actions that day as nothing more than an inconsequential act in the everyday life of the Radio Demon. Nothing more then a fleeting whim. That's what Vox was to him. Their relationship now and in the past meant nothing to him. Fuck HIM!

Vox could hear the hurried footsteps behind him as Charlie cried out for him to wait. He didn't stop as he rushed down the stairs and through the front door. Charlie finally caught up to him and grabbed ahold of his arm before he could reach his limousine.

"Wait! He didn't mean any of that! Alastor is just still weak from being sick and I'm sure that if you give him time he'll realize what a mistake he made!" she said in a desperate rush.

"Save it Princess!!" he turned around and shouted in Charlie's face. "I don't need you to try and make excuses for him! Alastor is, and always has been, a fucking bastard and me saving his life isn't going to change anything! Thinking any differently is foolish!"

Charlie opened her mouth as if to protest but he cut her off. "I came here, did what I promised, now that is it! You will NOT contact me again!"

Charlie stared at him with a sad expression but she did not protest. "I just-" she cut herself off and sighed. "I'm just sorry. For everything."

In a rush it felt like all of Vox's anger left him. Despite wanting to, he felt like he couldn't stay angry at the Princess's ernest apology. He sighed as well and brought a hand to his head. "It's not like you knew this was how everything was going to end. I kind of figured it would and yet I came anyways. Don't worry about it."

"But it's not right. I mean you saved him and he just treated you so horribly! It's not fair to you." Charlie looked mildly angry on his behalf which made Vox give off a humorless chuckle.

"Yeah well, when has anything in Hell ever been fair?" Vox shrugged. "It's just how things are."

"Well it shouldn't be," said Charlie with more force. "Heaven and Hell. Sinners and Saints. The whole system is broken and it's all fucked!"

Vox smirked. "You'll get no disagreement from me on that front. But what can we do?" Vox meant it as a rhetorical question but clearly the Princess did not.

Charlie stepped forward and grabbed ahold of one of Vox's hands with both of hers. "You could help with my hotel. There's so many Sinners that I just know are capable of redemption. If we just had an Overlord like you on our side, I know that there would be so many more Sinners willing to come to the hotel. And we could help you too! We could help each other and-"

Vox pulled his hand out of hers. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold on there Princess. I told you, I'm done. I'm not interested in any sort of redemption. It's not possible anyways." Charlie gave him a sad look again, one reminiscent of a kicked puppy that made him uncomfortable.

"Look. I admire what you're trying to do. Honestly, I do. Even if I think it's idiotic and a fools errand and you're unbelievably naive for thinking otherwise, it's nice to know that despite it all there's someone down here that's still hopeful. But that doesn't mean I want anything to do with your hotel," he said in a tired tone.

"But what if redemption for Sinners is possible? What then?" asked Charlie.

"Well then it'll be a fucking miracle! Like one of those real ones they talk about in the Bible! Hell, if it's possible I'll sponsor your hotel myself!" Vox cried in a joking manner.

Charlie grabbed ahold of one of his hands and shook it. "Deal!"

Vox looked at her in shock. "Ex-excuse me?"

"If I can redeem one Sinner, just one, then you have to sponsor my hotel," she said. Her face was dead serious.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," he said in disbelief. "Even if it was possible, what do you think will happen if I sponsor your hotel while Alastor is here?"

"You let me worry about him."

Vox scoffed. "Oh yeah, you're going to take on Alastor when he has his little hissy fit?"

Charlie crossed her arms and scowled. "I'm stronger than I look."

Vox looked at her but didn't contradict her. He knew she was strong but whether or not she would use that strength was still up for debate. "Why would you even want me to sponsor your hotel in the first place? Seems like it's more trouble then it's worth."

"More money for the hotel can never hurt."

"Nuh uh. Your daddy is helping you with your funds now for your hotel. It's not like you're hurting for money. You don't need me. What's the real reason?" Vox crossed his arms and glared at her in suspicion.

Charlie paused and looked away from him with a guilty expression. She looked at the hotel and then looked at Vox's neck, and then looked into his eyes. It felt like she was staring right into his soul with her big sad eyes. He gulped, unable to look away. "I just...want to make sure you're alright. I want you to know that you can ask me for help...if you want any."

Vox wanted to yell at her. He wanted to tell her that she was full of shit and that he didn't believe her lies. He wanted to get in his limo and drive back to Vee Tower and never look back. But he didn't. As he looked at her the same sense of familiarity he felt near her from earlier returned and this time he couldn't ignore it. Looking at her Vox couldn't help but be reminded of his sister, Olivia. They were so very much alike and it pained him.

But Charlie wasn't Olivia. She didn't know him and he didn't know her. She couldn't help him.

Vox shook his head. "I don't need your help Princess. And I never will."

Charlie's shoulders seemed to fall at his statement, resigning herself to failure. "Well, if you ever change your mind, the offer still stands."

"I'll keep that in mind." Vox turned around and finally opened up the door to the back seat of his limo. He climbed inside and closed the door. Before telling his driver to take off, he rolled down the window but did not look at Charlie.

"Oh and one last thing. Alastor may be awake now but I bet you anything that poison is still inside of him. I may have bought him a couple more weeks but if you can't get that cure then he'll be done for. And I'm not going to come back to help him again. I highly doubt that what I did would work a second time anyways."

Charlie leaned forward and placed her hand on the open window. She smiled at Vox. "Thank you Vox. Truly. I can't thank you enough."

Vox looked at her one last time. "Don't mention it. I mean it." He then rolled up the window, forcing Charlie's hand off of the door for fear of being crushed. Within moments, he was back on the road.

Vox leaned back in the seat, relaxing into the cushions. He's whole body ached with still lingering pain and weariness and his arm was stinging and wet.

Fuck that could have gone better. But it was also to be expected. All he wanted to do was go home and sleep for the rest of the day and into the night. But he knew he couldn't.

FUCK. He still had his date with Valentino.

Notes:

I just wanted to say that I honestly don't know that much about New Orleans Voodoo. I did some research prior to this chapter and tried to implement some of that information. From my understanding of Voodoo it seems like there is Haitin Vodou and Louisiana Voodoo that are similar but two different religions. Both seem to be mostly an oral religion so there really isn't much of a cohesive and unified practice for all who practice it. Because of this I am taking liberties for this story as to the sort of Voodoo that Alastor practices since it seems like it is a very individualized religion. From my research it does look like there is a common thread of spirits, or lwa, that the religion centers around.

Also, just to clarify I know that we as the audience all know that Sir Pentious was redeemed at the end of season 1 but at this point in my story, since Heaven is not communicating with Hell at all since the extermination, none of the main cast knows about this. As far as everyone knows he's just dead.

I think that's everything. Hope you all enjoyed! I'll try and respond to all the comments since the last chapter here soon. Thanks for everyone's comments!

And stay tuned for chapter 4!

Chapter 4: A Mother's Soothing Embrace

Summary:

It's 1900 and a boy runs as a group of children give chase. His mother provides comfort in the aftermath of the hunt. Unfortunately, there's very little comfort in Hell.

Notes:

Well damn! Wasn't expecting to break 500 kudos in the first 3 chapters of this fic. I continue to be absolutely blown away by everyone's reception of this story. Thank you!

TW for this chapter: period typical racism, violence against children by other children, mentions of suicide

1900

A small boy walked down the street with a ratty rucksack slung over one of his shoulders. His clothing was not in much better shape then the rucksack and it drew the attention of the occasional passerby. He paid them no mind because he knew that while his clothing garnered some odd looks in this part of town, it was nothing compared to the looks he received from those closer to his own neighborhood.

The neighborhood he was currently walking through was far nicer and in much better repair then his own. As such, there were far more opportunities to find assorted items and food that he could take back home. He still received sneers at the color of his skin which was slightly darker then the common person in the area, but they tended to believe him to be of Italian decent or Jewish. Of course that brought it's own brand of troubles and discrimination but at least they didn't know the truth.

As the boy continued to walk, the houses and businesses became more familiar to him. He quickened his pace in the hopes of getting home faster and reducing his chances of running into any unsavory familiar faces. He of course walked past the odd other person, all of which gave him outright looks of disgust, but thus far none gave him any trouble. He knew they wouldn't for as long as he kept his head down and quickly continued on his way, most adults would allow him to walk past without incident. It was the other children of the neighborhood he was hoping to avoid.

Unfortunately the boy was distracted by the loud sounds of a shop keeper and some customers so he did not notice the group of children turning the corner and walking down the street in uproarious cheer and shouts. The boy noticed the group only moments before they noticed him, all of which cried out in excitement at the possibility of some entertainment.

The children gave chase.

The boy was familiar with this game of cat and mouse and took off down a winding set of alleyways. He knew where each dead-end was and which alleyways connected to which. He knew which roofs were low enough for him to climb to and which he could hop. Unfortunately the other children were familiar with the alleyways as well but not to the extent he was. When one is prey they must intimately familiarize themselves with the lay of the land for all potential escape routes and advantages the environment can offer.

The boy jumped onto a dumpster and took a running jump to grab ahold of a ladder hanging down from a fire escape. As he struggled to hoist himself up the ladder he heard the other children enter the alleyway. He climbed up to the first level as one of the children was lifted up to grab ahold of the ladder by his friends. The boy grabbed a flower pot that was sitting on the fire escape and thrust it at the other child who cried out in pain and let go, causing him to fall to the ground in a heap. Blood rushed from the child's nose and he cried as a couple of his friends surrounded him. Others only momentarily paused before attempting to push another up to the ladder. By that point the boy had already climbed up several more levels before reaching the top of the building.

The boy ran across the roof and jumped to the next one over. The gap between these two buildings was smaller than most and only a couple feet wide. He opened up the door leading to the interior of the building and ran down the stairs. He stopped about halfway down the building before running through the hallways of what was clearly an apartment building. He ran to a window that opened up to a courtyard and opened it up as far is it would open. A light pole was next to the window, again only a couple feet away. The boy pushed himself out of the window and onto the ledge underneath the window. He reached across and grabbed ahold of the light pole which he used to slide down to the ground. Once on the ground he continued running and ignored any shouts from the people he rushed past.

The boy eventually came to a stop in an alleyway, several blocks away, bending over and panting for air. He placed his hand against the wall as he caught his breathe and whipped sweat from his forehead. He could no longer hear the sounds of the other children as they chased him. He was safe.

The boy straightened up and turned around to walk out of the alleyway when he was suddenly struck in the face. He fell backwards onto the ground seeing stars. Once he opened his eyes he saw one of the other boys standing over him with a wooden plank clutched in his hands with blood dripping from it. The boy touched his face and could feel that blood was gushing from his nose.

He heard several of the other children come running down the alleyway behind him while others ran up the street and stopped next to their friend that still held onto the wooden plank. They stared at him with menacing smiles and sneers.

The boy felt two sets of hands grab ahold of his arms from behind and drag him further into the alleyway, away from prying eyes. Once further into the dark alleyway the boys dropped him back to the ground as they began to circle their prey.

"Well, well, well, look who it is. The little half-breed decided he could walk our streets without our permission," sneered the boy who had struck the boy in the face.

"Looks like he needs to be taught anotha' lesson on showin' respect to his betters," said another. The other's laughed.

The boy whipped the blood from his face on his arm and winced at the pain. He could feel himself shaking from the adrenaline but he forced himself to smile at the other children. "I hope you don't mean yourselves. I've seen dog shit that is better than you lot combined."

He cried out in pain as another boy kicked his side causing him to fall to his other side. He curled up into a ball, clutching onto his ribs. "Shut the fuck up ya piece of shit!" shouted the child who kicked him. The boy opened his eyes and saw the same child who kicked him walk in front of him. It was the boy he had thrown the flower pot at. Blood still streamed down his face, now matching one another.

He was then kicked in the stomach over and over by the other child. All he could do was cover his face and head through the onslaught of abuse. Eventually the other boy stopped. All the children laughed at him while he struggled to draw air into his battered lungs and tears stung the corners of his eyes.

"Not so tough now, are ya?"

"Look! There's tears in his eyes!"

"Awww, wittle baby want his momma?"

"Go home and cry to your black momma!"

The children laughed and laughed. They shouted insult after insult at him and he tried to ignore them. He tried to remember what his mother would tell him. Don't let what the rest of the world has to say about you get you down. And the best way to do that is to always wear a smile. But try as he might he couldn't find his smile.

"Hey look at his disgusting bag? What ya reckon he got in his bag?"

"I don't know let's find out!"

Suddenly he felt multiple hands on him, turning him onto his stomach. He swung his arms out and kicked at whatever he could reach but there were too many hands on him. He felt someone sit on his legs and felt a couple kicks to the side of his head. His ears started to ring from the kicks and he saw stars again. Soon enough his rucksack was ripped from his back.

The children that sat on him did not get off as the contents of his bag were haphazardly thrown onto the ground in his line of sight. Various items and food were strung all through the alleyway.

"What's this?" cried one boy.

"Looks like he's been stealin'," said another.

"So typical. Can't make an honest livin' so he gotta take from respectable white folks, don't he."

The boy spit out some blood from his mouth and snarled at the other children. "I didn't steal from anyone! Everything I found was being thrown out!"

"Ha! Did y'all hear that! He's been takin' folks trash!"

The other children laughed some more.

"I thought I smelled somethin' foul!"

"Ha! Ya sure that ain't just him?”

"You're right! The smell is probably just the smell from his whore momma on him!"

The boy saw red. He didn't care what the other children said to him. He didn't care what they did to him. But if anyone dared insult his mother he would kill them.

The boy gave a blood curdling scream, one that sounded more animal then human, startling the other children. One of the children holding him down loosened their grip on his arm allowing the boy to rear his elbow backwards as hard as he could, connecting with the other child's jaw. He was then able to gain leverage to the point that he could raise his upper body. He grabbed ahold of a rock on the ground and turned his body to throw it at the other child sitting on his legs, striking the child in the eye with the rock.

Now free, the boy sprung to his feet and launched himself at the closest child. The other kid fell backwards, striking the back of his head on the ground. The boy began hitting the other child over and over as hard as he could as he continued to scream, letting out his rage.

For a third time he felt hands grabbing him from behind, pulling him off the other kid. This time, however, he didn't allow the manhandling and bit the hands of one of the other children that had ahold of his upper arm. The kid let him go with a shout, causing the boy and other child to trip.

Now on the ground, several of the other children pilled on him once again, attempting to restrain him through his flailing limbs. He felt the heal of a shoe strike his face, this time causing his already damaged nose to break with an audible crunch. He felt the kids pummel his body over and over. The boy began to lose himself in the pain. His cries of rage turned to cries of pain. He no longer wanted to rip the other children to shreds, he simply wanted his mother.

"Shit!" the boy could distantly hear through the abuse. "It's the witch! Run!"

Suddenly the overwhelming pressure on top of the boy disappeared as the children released him. He could hear several sets of feet running off down the alleyway followed by shouts of fear.

With his sudden freedom, the boy curdled onto his side again, attempting to relieve some of the pain in his abdomen. He brought his hands to his face and delicately clutched onto his nose. He heard more footsteps approach him, making him stiffen in barely contained fear. The footsteps were far steadier and heavier, however.

The boy forced himself to open his eyes and saw three sets of feet approach him. The pair in the front was covered by a long set of deep red skirts. He followed the skirts upward and saw a dark skinned middle aged woman with an intricately patterned scarf wrapped around her head. She looked down at the boy with an intense stare, pinning him to where he lay. It was Priestess Maxine.

"What have ya' gotten ya' self into now, boy?" she asked with an accented voice.

"The white boy be gettin' himself into trouble again, priestess." Two younger men stood next to the woman, both looking at the boy with mildly disgusted looks. There skin tone was similarly dark to the woman.

"I can sees that. The blood on da' boys face is clear enough."

The boy slowly pushed himself up on shaking arms. He coughed and spit out more blood from his mouth. He grimaced at the change in position but forced himself to sit up, not wanting to continue to lay on the ground in front of the woman. "They started it. I didn't do anything. I was just going home."

"Don't look like ya be do nothing to me, boy. I saw a fair numba' of dem udder boys wit blood on dem faces too." Priestess Maxine looked at the boy with a critical look.

The boy struggled to his feet and glared at the woman. "I only defended myself. They deserved what they got."

"What dey deserved and what dey didn't don't matter much to dem, now do it boy?" the Priestess spat at the boy. "Dem white devils tink ya deserve ta be beat because of ya mutha. Ya keep fightin' wit dem and der white pa's will be comin' to ya house, draggin' ya and ya mutha out in da middle of de night for a lyncin' for all de town ta see. Ya wan' a rope be wrapped around ya mutha's throat, boy?"

The boy flinched at the thought and shook his head. "Den ya best be behavin' now before ya get yaself into more trouble, boy," said Priestess Maxine.

The boy could feel himself shaking in renewed anger. What was he supposed to do? Let the children beat him without doing anything? Let them throw insult after insult at him about his mother? What was SHE doing about ANY of this?

The boy sneered. "What's the point in all your power and magic if you're going to do nothing? You and your voodoo and the lwa are fucking worthless."

The smack across his face knocked him to the ground and left his ears ringing. The boy blinked several times to clear his vision of the stars he saw. He clutched his cheek and then gazed up at the Priestess in alarm. The woman stood there, staring down at him with a glare, completely still and having not moved an inch. One of the men next to her had stepped forward and had a raised hand, clearly indicating he was the one to have struck him.

"Ya dare speak ta Priestess Maxine dat way! Ya dare speak ill of voodoo and da lwa! Ya are an ungrateful white devil child that has been poisoned by ya white devil pa!" The man shouted at the boy as Priestess Maxine continued to stare down her nose at the child still clutching his cheek. The man continued to shout at the boy until the Priestess finally placed her hand gently on his shoulder, cutting him off without a word. The man stepped back and allowed Priestess Maxine to step forward.

She leaned down slightly and glowered at the boy. "If I ever be hearin' ya speak like dat again boy I'll be havin' words wit ya mutha, ya hear?" The boy nodded his head without a word.

"Ya don't be commandin' no lwa, ya hear? The lwa give us wat we be needin' and we don' be demanded notin' from dem. Ya give dem the proper respect dey demandin' or ya be turnin' into a proper devil, jus' like ya pa boy."

The child nodded once more. He didn't dare say another word against the Priestess, especially in front of the two men.

"Good. Now ya get up and be gettin' home ta ya mutha. Ya go straight home. I hear ya be gettin' inta trouble again and I'll be draggin' ya back home ta ya mutha myself wit da help of dem wortless lwa ya be talkin' bout." The Priestess turned around and began walking back down the alleyway. The two men gave the boy final glares before they too turned and followed the woman.

The boy could feel himself shaking all over. He no longer knew if it was from anger, pain, or a combination of the two. Slowly he bent down and picked up what was still salvageable from his hunt for that day and put it back into his rucksack. Once done, he flung it back over his shoulder and started to limp his way home. Luckily he had made it further into his neighborhood and closer to home. Of course, if he hadn't made it this far in then Priestess Maxine wouldn't have been able to come to his aid. While he loathed the woman and her lack of any real action or aid he knew the other children were terrified of her and her voodoo and the mere sight of her would scare the others off.

The further along he went the boy started to see more and more people with much darker skin colors then him. While he knew that none would physically attack him out of respect for his mother, that didn't change the fact that here he drew just as many sneers and upturned noses as anywhere else.

Soon enough, the boy came to a dock with a couple small wooden boats. There was a small river with a thick forest of trees beyond. He climbed into one of the boats, untying it from the dock. He began to row himself down the river into the darkness between the trees. The sound of the water and the insects soothed the child, signaling the close approach of home. He rowed and rowed until finally another dock was in sight and a small wooden house beyond.

He tied the boat to the dock and grabbed his rucksack that he had laid at his feet. He climbed out and walked towards the house. He stopped at the door and could hear soft humming from inside. The boy hesitated as blood dripped down from his face onto the ground. He both didn't want her to see the state he was in and all he wanted was for her to make the pain go away.

He pushed the door open slowly and stepped inside, dropping his bag to the floor. At the sound of the door opening the humming stopped.

"Al, dear? Is that you?" said a woman from further into the house.

Instead of answering, the boy walked towards the voice and the comfort it offered. Once he entered the kitchen he saw a woman sitting at a table with her back to him. It was clear she was in the middle of preparing dinner for the two of them with her sleeves rolled up and cut vegetables in front of her. The boy stopped in the threshold of the kitchen, gazing at the back of the woman.

She turned around at the sound of the floorboards creaking, singling his arrival. She wore a soft smile on her face, content in her work. The sound of music could be heard in the background coming from their gramophone, clearly what she had been humming along to. Her hair was pulled back into a bun at the base of her head with multiple stray strands falling about her face gracefully. Her skin was a dark chocolate color, matching her kind eyes. As soon as she spotted him, though, her eyes welled with concern and her smile fell into a deep frown. Instantly, she got to her feet and rushed to him.

She crouched down in front of the boy, clutching his face gently between her hands. "Alastor! My sweet darling, what happened?!"

Alastor looked into his mother's eyes but said nothing. Suddenly the dam of emotions that he had kept at bay broke. The tears he felt in his eyes earlier sprung forth once more and spilled over, trickling down his cheeks. His lip wobbled in a vain attempt at keeping quiet but soon he was crying full force with no hope of stopping. His mother quickly pulled him into her arms, causing him to cry even harder then before.

"Oh my sweet, sweet boy! I've got you. I've got you, darling." She cooed at him, whispering words of comfort into his ears. Alastor continued to cry, falling to the floor and being positioned into her lap. His mother rocked him back and forth while stroking his hair in a soothing manner. All the while, the tranquil sounds from the gramophone filled the air around them. His mother started to hum along with the music once more, calming his cries to small sniffles and whimpers.

As the boy quieted down a new song began. It was Ma Blushin' Rosie by Al Jolson. He listened to the mans voice sing about his love while his mother's voice began to join his in a duet. "You are my hearts bouquet, come out here in the moonlight, there's something sweet love, I want to say."

Alastor felt himself be rocked back and forth with purpose along with the time of the music. He gave off a small giggle at his mother's ministrations and she laughed with him.

"Rosie, you are my Posie. You are my hearts bouquet!" She tickled his stomach at this line, causing him to outright laugh. "Come out here in the moonlight. There's something sweet love, I'm gonna sing about my baby!" She tilted him backwards, dipping him dramatically as she rubbed her nose against his cheek. He laughed some more at her antics, unable to continue crying.

"Your honey, your boy I'm waiting. Those rubies, those lips to greet!" She gave him a wet kiss on his cheek. While his cheek was still sore from the abuse earlier, he still smiled at the love shown to him.

"Don't be so captivating, my blushin rosie, my posie sweet!" His mother finished off the song with a single arm thrown out in dramatic fashion while she still had ahold of him tightly with her other arm. By the end of the song, Alastor had found his smile and was grinning along with his mother.

"Ahhh," she said to him gently. "There's that beautiful smile of yours. I do miss it when it's gone."

She brushed his hair back and ran her hands down his cheeks. He couldn't help the slight wince of pain. She frowned slightly but then pushed herself and Alastor up to their feet. She bent down to look in his eyes and placed her hands on his shoulders. "Come darling. Let's get you cleaned up and you can tell me what happened."

Alastor's mother went to the sink and grabbed a clean towel that she ran under the faucet. Alastor sat himself in a chair that he pulled up next to the sink. Once in position, she began to delicately wipe the blood from his face. Her eyebrows furrowed at the crooked shape of his nose. She grabbed a wooden spoon and held it out in front of his mouth. "Open up darling and bite down on this. This is going to hurt but I need to set your nose back."

He looked at the spoon wearily but obeyed. Once the spoon was in his mouth his mother grabbed ahold of his nose. "On the count of three, alright?" He nodded. "One-" And he felt a terrible snap as his broken nose was reset. He gave out a shout and the spoon fell from his mouth as he bent over and put his hands protectively over his face. Tears sprung to his eyes and he gasped in pain.

"I'm so sorry darling. But doing it quickly and suddenly I knew was best. How are you feeling?" She was crouched down and looking up into Alastor's face, clutching onto the wet towel once more. He opened his eyes he didn't realize he had closed and pulled his hands away from his face slowly. Blood was gushing from his nose anew, falling onto his pants and the floor.

"Hurts," he croaked out.

She gave a small sad smile. "I'm sure it does, baby. Now tell me what happened."

She started dabbing at his face again, cleaning it of the blood and grim that had accumulated there. "The same thing that always happens, some kids chased me down and decided to attack me."

She hummed at that. "And did you do anything to provoke them?"

He scowled at his mother. "No. I was just walking home! I didn't DO anything!"

She sighed at her son's outburst and paused. "Alastor, darling, I know these boys always pick on you but the state of your face says that you angered them somehow."

Alastor looked away, not wanting to meet her eyes.

"Alastor," she said in a warning tone.

"I threw a flower pot at one of them as they were following me up a fire escape," he finally said in defeat.

"Alastor!"

"What?" he shouted as he looked back at his mother. "They were chasing me because they were going to give me a beating! What am I supposed to do? Let them? You're just like Priestess Maxine! You think I should do nothing!"

"Alastor!" His mother grabbed both of his arms in a firm grip and shook him slightly to get him to look at her. "You CAN'T fight those boys! You CAN'T! You must promise me you won't!"

"I will not!" he shouted.

"Alastor!"

"No! They deserve everything I do to them and more! If it was just me against one or two of them then I just know that I'd make them regret ever touching me or dare saying anything about you!"

His mother looked at him in exasperation. "Is that what this is about? They said something about me?"

"They always do! They call you horrible names and say all manner of terrible things about you. I can't stand it!" Tears were stinging his eyes once more against his will.

"Oh baby. You know what I say. You must ignore those boys. It's only words," she brushed her thumb over his chin in an attempt at comfort.

"It's not right," he said as he sniffled. The action stung his nose.

"I know, darling, I know. But I'll suffer all manner of terrible things said about me if it means keeping you safe." She smiled at him once more as she stood up and rinsed out the now bloody towel.

"Besides, there are far more subtle ways at getting back at those who wrong you." His mother said this with a sly smile thrown over her shoulder. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "Like what?" he asked.

She leaned back against the counter and gave him a hard stare. "I think it's time I start properly teaching you about voodoo ."

Alastor couldn't help rolling his eyes at this. He leaned back in the chair in a huff. "Voodoo. What, the lwa are going to help me?"

"Alastor Augustin, if it wasn't for the state of your face right now then I'd slap you for your disrespect." His mother's voice remained level and even, scaring him more than if she had yelled. He thought back to Priestess Maxine and one of her men slapping him for the same disrespect. At least his mother would show more restraint given the pain he was in.

"The lwa are powerful spirits that should be respected. Only when you show them the proper respect will you get any sort of help from them."

"Doesn't seem like they give anyone any help even when they DO show them respect," he grumbled. "Priestess Maxine is the most well respected leader of Voodoo in New Orleans and yet she and so many of our people are still living in shacks and are beat in the streets or killed on the daily. If the lwa are so powerful then why won't they just curse and kill the people who treats us like this?"

"You sound just like the white men you're purporting that should be killed," she scolded. "Voodoo is not about killing and curses, black magic and blood sacrifices. Voodoo is sacred and so are the lwa. You best remember that."

"But what about the Petwo?" he asked pointedly.

His mother huffed. "The Petwo deserve our respect just as much as any lwa, but you must also be cautious when working with them. If you're not careful they can chew you up and spit you back out."

"Seems like it's no different then how we're being treated anyways." Alastor crossed his arms and turned away. His mother gave out a deep sigh and ran her hands over her face.

"Alastor. Alastor darling, please look at me." He did. She looked at him with a sad expression on her face.

"I know that you are frustrated. You have it hard, harder than most. You are isolated by your father's people because of me and unfortunately you'll never be fully accepted by my own because you look far too much like your daddy. I've tried to make things easier on you by sheltering you out here away from everyone. But in many ways that's only isolated you more and I'm sorry." She bent down again and looked into his eyes to try and convey her seriousness. "The most I can do is teach you everything I know and give you as much knowledge as possible to help you get by. You may scoff at Voodoo but it is knowledge that you can have and choose to use if you desire. I need you to only promise that you will give it the proper respect it deserves."

Alastor adopted a similar serious expression and nodded. "I promise."

She smiled once again. "Good. Now go change and finish cleaning yourself up. Once you're done you can set the table for dinner. I'm making jambalaya!"

Alastor immediately perked up at this. Any unpleasantness was immediately forgotten in the face of his mother's jambalaya for dinner. He couldn't get out of his seat fast enough to follow his mother's orders.
____________________

As Vox and Charlie stormed out of Alastor's bedroom, thick tension filled the air. Husk turned to his master with a look of barely concealed resentment.

"Really, Alastor? The man just saved your life and that's how you're going to treat him?" asked Husk.

Alastor's head whipped towards him at lightening speed. "I didn't ask for his help," he spat.

"Well it's not like you were in a position to. Any longer and you would have died," grumbled Husk. "And don't try and say you wouldn't have. I ain't never seen you like how you've been for the past week. You were dying, Al."

Alastor glared at Husk but was interrupted before he could say more. "He's got a point, Alastor," said Vaggie. "I mean it's not like I trust the guy or even like him, but he did just save your life. You COULD try to be a little more civil. Or at least not throw his death back in his face."

"Is that what happened?" asked Angel Dust. "Seemed like Alastor was mockin' him more because of him what, tryin' to commit suicide a second time?" Angel raised his hands in question.

"Sure sounded like it!" said Cherri Bomb.

"Oh please," said Alstor, addressing Vaggie. "If he didn't want his death to be thrown right back at him maybe he shouldn't have committed suicide. Seems to me that the circumstances of his death is no one's fault but his own," Alastor said with a sniff.

Husk sneered at Alastor. "There's a lot more to it then that and you know it!" Husk shouted at Alastor as he pointed his finger at him in anger.

Angel grabbed ahold of Husk, pulling him back slightly and grabbing onto his arm to lower it. "Hey easy. I think everyone is havin' a rough day, week, hell month. I think maybe we should try and cool off a bit and give Al some rest, yeah?" Angel looked to Vaggie and Cherri, hoping that at least one of them would back him up and help try to defuse the situation. While Alastor was clearly still weak from his prolonged nap, Angel really didn't want to see if he still had the full range of his powers and risk Husk setting him off while Alastor was already in a pissy mood.

"Yeah, how bout you whip up some drinks for us Husk, my man? I could really go for some liquor!" said Cherri as she patted Husk on the back. She began to steer him towards the door when Alastor stopped them.

"Oh before you go, Husker, I do believe my room is in QUITE the state." Alastor indicated towards the discarded bowl of bloody water and towels on the ground.

Husk growled. "Niffty's the maid. That's her job." As if summoned, Niffty began to scurry around the floor in excitement, grabbing ahold of the bloody towels.

Alastor raised his hand at her, indicating for her to stop. She deflated at not being able to clean. "Yes but I'd like for YOU to do it."

Alastor stared at Husk with a too-wide grin and piercing eyes. It was clear that he wasn't making a request. Husk glared back but knew he would give in. He had no other choice. He turned to Angel and Cherri. "I'll be down in a minute." Angel gave a weak smile but continued out the door, knowing Husk didn't have a choice either. Cherri followed him too.

Vaggie turned to Husk as he began to clean up the floor. "You need help?" she asked.

"Not to worry, dear," said Alastor. "I do believe Husk is capable enough to clean up my room himself. No need to linger."

Vaggie hesitated, wanting to argue but relented when Husk waved at her and said, "Go with the others. I got this."

Vaggie sighed but left the room. This left master and servants in the room together. Niffty stood by, buzzing with anxious energy while she watched Husk clean, unable to take over.

"So tell me, Husker," hummed Alastor. "Why would the others get it in their heads that Vox of all people would be able to aid me in my time of need?"

Husk refused to look at Alastor and instead continued to clean at the floor where blood and pus had mixed together. "You already know why."

Niffty decided to be of help and chimed in with the obvious. "Husk told Charlie that Vox and you were friends and that he could help!"

"Spreading rumors is a very bad idea," said Alastor. He started to adjust himself slowly in the bed, attempting to make himself more comfortable despite the still open wound on his abdomen. He then noticed the long gash on his forearm.

"Obviously Vox being able to help ain't no rumor. You're awake, ain't ya?"

"Yes," said Alastor. He started to examine the cut on his arm, growing suspicious. "Which begs the question how exactly he aided me. But more importantly how did you know he could offer me help?"

Husk shrugged. "You two were close once. And I knew you shared information with him about your damn Voodoo. Figured if anything was going to keep you alive despite the odds it was going to be the damn Voodoo bullshit. Seemed like it already was keeping you alive to an extent, if barely."

Alastor narrowed his eyes at Husk. "I told him about Voodoo and explained the finer details to him but I did NOT tell him how to perform any sort of spells. And this," Alastor shoved his forearm out at Husk, drawing his attention. "Is clearly the result of a ritual."

Husk looked up at Alastor, confused on why exactly this was such an issue. "He had some book to help him. I don't know, some sort of spell book I guess."

The shadows darkened and radio dials appeared in place of Alastor's eyes. Husk fell back at the sudden change and Niffty hid behind him. Alastor wasn't looking at Husk any longer though but rather staring off into the distance. "I knew that pathetic wretch stole my book!" he screeched in anger. "He's had it all this time! After all these years! MY BOOK!"

Husk noticed out of the corner of his eye Alastor's shadow coming out once more. Until now he had forgotten that it suddenly disapeared after Vox had performed whatever sort of magical bullshit he did earlier. The shadow was now crawling across the wall towards it's master.

"I ought to go and kill him now for his insolence!" cried Alastor.

Husk gulped. Clearly Vox having the book was a big deal.

Despite himself, Husk spoke up. "He stole your book. Fine! But he used it to help you!"

Alastor turned to Husk once more causing Husk's hair to stand on end. He REALLY did not want to be under Alastor's scrutiny, espcially while he was so pissed off. "You said he's had it for years and yet he's never used it, right? Or at least I'm assuming he ain't. Seems to me like it's a good thing he stole that book then. Because clearly he's not going to use it to hurt you but rather help you out."

Husk could feel himself shrinking back in fear with Alastor and his shadow's combined attention. Niffty gave off a squeak behind him while she clutched onto his fur.

"Get. Out."

Husk blinked. "Uhh, what?"

"I said GET OUT!" shrieked Alastor in a rage.

Husk didn't need to be told a third time. He quickly grabbed the bowl at his feet and threw as many of the towels as he could into it, not caring that any of the water shloshed out. In his mad dash to grab everything and get out he noticed something shinny slightly underneath Alastor's bed.

"NOW!!" screamed Alastor.

"Right!" said Husk who then grabbed the item and rushed out. Niffty was fast behind him. The door closed behind the two of them with a slam, without either of their doing. Niffty squeaked once more and hid behind Husk's legs. After a couple tense but quiet moments Niffty peaked out from behind Husk's legs and stared at Alastor's door.

"Wow. Boss suuure was angry. Why do you think that was?" She looked up at Husk in question.

He sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "How the fuck would I know? The man's fuckin' crazy." He looked down at her. "Here, take this shit and clean it up for me, will ya?"

"Right away!" she saluted at Husk before grabbing the bowl and towels and scurrying away at lightening speed.

Husk gave one last look at Alastor's door before walking down the hallway back towards the other's. He could really use that drink right about now.

While he walked Husk looked down at the small shiny item he had noticed underneath Alastor's bed. Now that he no longer had Alastor looming menacingly at him he had a chance to really look at what it was that he held.

Fuck. It was Vox's damn bullet. He must have dropped the thing in his rush to get out of the hotel and hadn't even noticed.

Well shit. What the Hell was he supposed to do with this?

Notes:

Edit: Alastor - DOB: 1890 (10 years old in 1900)

I gave Alastor the last name of Augustin. I liked the alliteration and it’s also a Creole last name. Means “August” or “respected”.

I'm not entirely sure if Alastor's background of being mixed race Creole is actually canon or not. So much of the canon and fanon of this show seems to be mixed online and it's sometimes hard to figure out what truly is canon. The Hazbin Hotel: Journey to the Light Fanon Wiki really has messed with things. But for this story I've gone with that background.

To clarify, I envision Alastor being light skinned to the point of passing as white. Or at least his race is ambiguous when someone first meets him. Hence the comment in the chapter that those who don't know him usually think he might be Italian. Which given the time period, Italian American's and immigrants from Italy were very much discriminated against as well and so people assuming he has Italian heritage isn't exactly that much better. I also wanted to show that he is discriminated against for being mixed, not just from the white community. One of my best friends is a mixed race black man who often talks about how when he was growing up a constant struggle was that he was either "not black enough" or "not white enough" for people that he knew and even amongst some of his friends. I think that since Alastor is so light skinned that he can pass as being white that that would definitely cause a lot of friction within the mostly black community he is growing up in.

Finally, I wanted to say I know a lot of people were anxiously anticipating Vox's date with Valentino. So sorry there's a pause on that. Next chapter I promise! I hope that this chapter is still to everyone's liking. I will say, that this switching back and forth between the past and present will be a constant thing. When I first decided to write this story it was with the idea that it would be a cool episode idea for the show which is entirely flashbacks of Vox and Alastor while they were alive and how their story's would have various parallel's while also showing how they deviated in life but still both ending up in Hell.

Actual final last thing, I will respond to all comments from the most previous chapter tomorrow. I'm very tired at this point and really just wanted to post this newest chapter especially since the update was much longer than it was for the other chapters. This will be more or less the update speed moving forward.

But I hope everyone liked this newest chapter. Stay tuned for chapter 5!

Chapter 5: A Helpful Hand and a Hellish One

Summary:

Velvette helps Vox patch himself up before his night with Valentino. Then he faces his tumultuous boyfriend.

Notes:

Well I've got to say, I honestly didn't know if I was going to actually manage to post a new chapter before the end of the weekend. I had a rather shitty work week and was exhausted each day after work, leading to very little time being spent on working on this chapter. As a result, I don't know how much I actually like this chapter. I think it could have been better. But I managed to at least get this finished. I'll also say that I don't know if next weekend I'll actually be able to post a new chapter before the end of the weekend because I have some out-of-town plans with some friends. Quite frankly, I need that break after this week so sorry for a potentially late update next week.

I do want to draw people's attention to some added tags and change in warning. The "rape/non-con" tag was honestly something that should have been added from the start of this story but I wasn't sure how graphic or detailed I would get. This has been added because while this chapter isn't necessarily super graphic, it is something that I have decided that in future chapters things will get much worse. Please read with care.

TW for this chapter: domestic violence, strangulation, dubious consent

While on his way back to Vee Tower, Vox had removed his jacket once more. The feeling of Vox's sleeve sticking to his still bleeding forearm was far too uncomfortable for him to suffer through wearing his jacket any longer. He had resigned himself to his jacket being unsalvageable so he had taken to holding it against the arm to staunch the bleeding.

He hadn't thought about how inconvenient it would be to have his arm be bleeding as it was until after he had left the Hazbin Hotel. He only hoped he could clean up the wound and wrap it before anyone else noticed. But even more so he hoped Valentino didn't ask too many questions.

Once at Vee Tower, Vox got out of his limousine and entered the building. He clutched Alastor's book under his arm, attempting to shield it from anyone's view behind his jacket and bleeding arm. He made his way back to his office quickly and attempted to avoid as many people as possible. While any of the extensive employees that he and the other Vee's employed wouldn't dare question him about his arm he knew that if he ran into Velvette or Valentino there would be questions. And Vox didn't want to go back to his apartment where there was the possibility of running into Valentino first before he had a chance to clean himself up. Vox's office was the best place to go for the time being.

Vox managed to make it to his office with limited interactions. Once behind the safety of his office doors he relaxed slightly. He went to his desk and put the book into one of the drawers and then locked it. He would take care of the book later.

Vox then walked into the connecting bathroom and took a moment to properly look at what he had done to himself. He peeled back the jacket, grimacing at the slightly coagulating blood being pulled from his skin and the wound. Blood dripped down his arm and hand into the sink. He dropped his jacket into the bowl of the sink and ran his arm underneath the faucet. The water stung and made him suck in a breathe of air.

Fuck. Why did he cut so damn deep? He should try and stich it up but knew it would be difficult to do on his own. The stitches would surely look ugly once he was done.

He continued to hold his bleeding arm over the sink while he reached across to a drawer where he pulled a first aid kit from. Being an overlord and boyfriend of Valentino each came with it's own risks and as such there were several first aid kits strung throughout Vee Tower. He was no stranger to patching himself up for various injuries.

As Vox opened the first aid kit and began stringing needle through thread he was startled as he heard a loud bang from his office door. He dropped the needle and thread onto the counter and cursed under his breathe.

"Vox! I know you're here! One of your assistants notified me that you just walked in!"

Velvette's loud shout could be heard along with her fast approaching footsteps towards the bathroom. There was no time for him to hide his arm or bloody jacket before she entered the room. As soon as she saw him she stopped dead in her tracks.

"What the FUCK happened to you?!" She made a bee line for him and grabbed ahold of his bleeding arm roughly.

Vox hissed. "Careful Velvette! That stings!"

"No shit! You got a giant fucking gash on your arm!" She loosened her grip slightly to prevent herself from harming him further but she did not let go. She bent over the wound slightly and furrowed her eyes at it. It was a single straight cut in the middle of his forearm. Vox nervously waited for her response because he knew how the wound looked.

"You do this to yourself?" she asked in a harsh but quieter tone of voice.

"Velvette it's not what you're thinking-"

Vox was cut off by Velvette in a shout. "How the fuck else should it look?! You got an angelic knife on you?!"

Vox reeled back in confusion. "What? No! Of course not! Why would you think I did?"

"Because why else would you be cutting down your arm like this then to kill yourself! Everyone knows if you just want to hurt yourself you do it horizontally. You want to kill yourself, you do it vertically. And nothing's going to kill you doing that in Hell unless you got a fucking angelic weapon!"

Velvette released Vox's arm and began feeling all over Vox's body, patting him down and reaching into all of his pockets. Vox protested at her ministrations but she would not listen. Once she found nothing on him she grabbed ahold of his discarded jacket and began searching through it. She found Vox's knife and pulled it out with wild eyes. Once she saw that it was not an angelic knife but a normal blade she relaxed somewhat. Blood could be seen still on the blade.

"See," he said as she stared at it. "Like I said, no angelic blade."

She continued to stare at the blade with an unreadable expression. Vox watched her and could feel a budding sense of guilt. He reached out his good arm and laid his hand softly on her shoulder. "Hey. I'm not trying to kill myself. I promise."

She looked at him with sad eyes. "But you did hurt yourself."

Vox sighed. "It's complicated. And really, not what you think."

"How fucking complicated can it get?" she cried. "Is this because of Valentino? Because I swear to God I'll show that skinny little man-whore what's what if this is because of him!"

"What? No! This has nothing to do with Valentino, I swear," said Vox in exasperation.

"Really? Because you just hurt yourself after the fucked up night you two just had," she said in anger.

Vox looked to her sharply. "What do you know about the night we had?"

"You had a fucking new screen delivered to your apartment today. AFTER you worked from home all morning. One guess as to how you got a fucked up screen."

"How do you know that I got a screen delivered to my apartment? And how did you know I worked from home today?" he asked.

"Really Vox?" she gave him a look that said he was stupid. "You're not the only Vee who makes it a point to know everything that is going on at all times."

Vox sighed. "Fair enough."

Velvette glared at him with crossed arms, waiting for an explanation. "Look. There truly is an explanation for all this and it has nothing to do with Valentino."

Velvette uncrossed her arms and turned to the first aid kit where she found a pair of rubber gloves which she pulled on. She then grabbed the needle and thread that had been discarded on the counter before turning to him. "Well you better start talking and you better tell the truth. Now give me your damn arm before you pass out from blood loss and crack your screen again."

Vox obliged and extended his arm towards her. It was a common enough occurrence to have Velvette help stitch him up from various injuries. She was the most skilled seamstress he knew and as such was his preferred nurse. Not only could he trust her with this sort of vulnerability but he knew that her steady hands would fix him back up in no time. If she knew of the number of times he'd stitched himself up without her from injuries he wished to hid from her then she'd be pissed. Beyond pissed, really. Best to keep that to himself.

"You're going to be pissed when I tell you," said Vox in a quiet voice.

"I'm already pissed. Now talk."

Vox frowned and sighed, bracing himself for her ire. Velevette broke Vox's skin with the needle, creating the first stitch. "I lied about the meeting yesterday."

Velvette paused but didn't look up from Vox's arm before she continued. "What, Lucifer actually showed up?"

"No. The meeting really was with the Princess, just she didn't ask me to sponsor her hotel or anything. At least not then."

"What the fuck does that mean? She's asked you another time to sponsor her hotel?"

"Yeah. She asked me today," said Vox.

Velvette looked at him in confusion. "You talked to Charlie fucking Morningstar today?"

"Yeah. That's where I was at, her hotel."

Velvette laughed. "Why the Hell would you go to her hotel? You're not REALLY thinking of sponsoring her hotel?"

Vox scoffed. "As if. Why the fuck would I do that?"

"I don't know, why the fuck would you go to her hotel?" shot back Velvette.

Vox looked away and paused, attempting to prolong the inevitable. "Because of Alastor."

"The FUCKING Radio Demon?! The Hell does he have to do with any of this? He do this to your arm? I swear to God I'll rip that deer's horns out of his head and shove them up his arse!" In Velvette's anger the strength of her grip increased on his arm. He flinched and pulled it out of her grasp.

"Jesus Vel! Calm down! I already confirmed I did this to myself."

"Then what does Alastor have to do with this?!" she yelled.

"If you'll let me talk I'll fucking tell you!" he yelled back. Velvette glared at him but stayed quiet. She grabbed his arm once more and continued her work. "The Princess asked for my help with Alastor because apparently he was still hurt from his fight with Adam."

"The extermination was over a month ago," she said in confusion. "How could he still be hurt from that?"

"Angelic poison. Apparently Adam wasn't above using such tactics."

"Shit," she said simply. Vox couldn't agree more. "So, you went to the hotel to what? Gloat?"

Vox grimaced. "No. I went to help him."

Velvette gave him a wide-eyed look. "Vox!"

"I know! I know!" he said, trying to defend himself from her anger.

Velvette's work on his arm was forgotten despite only half of the wound being mended. She threw her arms above her head and cried, "You know 'what'? That that's fucking stupid?! Because apparently you don't, otherwise you wouldn't have gone to that damn hotel! You hate the man and want him dead! Why would you ever try and help him?!"

Vox threw his arms out as well, flinching at the movement to his hurt arm. "It's complicated!"

"Then un-complicate it!"

Vox clenched his teeth in frustration and clutched his hands in anger. After a couple of moments he felt all of the tension leave his body as he looked to the ceiling. He closed his eyes and sighed. Velvette for once was quiet and did not interrupt the silence as he collected himself.

Without opening his eyes he spoke. "There's so much you don't know about what happened between me and him before you ever showed up in Hell. I know I really only talk about the bad but believe it or not there was some...a LOT of good too."

"Yeah Vox," said Velvette in a soft voice. "I know. No one puts that much effort into hating someone else if they didn't once care for them first."

Vox gave a humorless laugh. "Yeah. I guess you're right."

"But Vox," Velvette said. She placed a hand gently on his unhurt arm, drawing his attention. "Even if there was some good times between the two of you in the past, why would you ever want to help him now? After everything?"

"Honestly?" Vox shrugged. "I really don't even know myself. I told myself it was because of some old debt I owed him, which yeah, it is partly that. But I don't know Vel," he placed a hand to his head, shaking it. "Maybe I was just hoping for things to be how they used to be. That maybe if I helped him that the past several years would be forgotten. I don't know. I'm a fucking idiot, I know. It's not like I really thought any of that would happen. I'm just...tired, alright? And had a lapse in judgement. It won't happen again."

Vox refused to look at Velvette as the silence stretched on. Eventually she sighed too and grabbed his arm again. She started stitching him up and finished in silence. Once she was done, she then grabbed a roll of gauze and began wrapping it around his arm to keep it clean and protected.

After tying the bandage she said, "You are by far the biggest sentimental idiot I know. You're too soft for Hell."

"I'm an Overlord," deadpanned Vox.

"Doesn't matter. You're still a big softy. You let far too many shitty people close to you and your big heart."

"Like you?" he asked, teasing the other. Velvette smirked and nudged him lightly.

"Bite me, old man." There was no real heat behind her words, instead she was smiling at Vox. Her expression turned sad though once more. "I'm serioius Vox. You need to be more careful."

"I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself."

"Can you?" Velvette ran her thumb over Vox's bandaged arm.

Vox placed his hand over hers that was stroking the wrapping. He pulled it away from his arm and squeezed it in an attempt at reassurance. "I swear to you, this wasn't some attempt to intentionally hurt myself. My arm was cut because of some Voodoo ritual that was meant to heal Alastor. That's all."

Velvette scoffed and rolled her eyes. "You say it like that makes everything alright."

"You mean it doesn't?" he asked in a joking manner.

"No!" she cried, but this time she was smiling too. After another pause she asked, "Well? Did it work? Did you heal the helpless little Radio Demon?"

"Yeah. Believe it or not."

"How did you even accomplish that? I thought it was impossible to heal from angelic poison?"

Vox shrugged. "Well I seriously doubt I fully healed him. I just bought him some more time. According to the fallen angel there's a cure for the poison. But it's up in Heaven. And apparently they aren't talking with the Princess and her little crew anymore."

Velvette barked out a laugh. "Yeah no kidding. What did they expect after killing THE first man?" She laughed some more but sobered when a thought occurred to her. "Should we be concerned about that? Heaven going to start another early extermination? Or a fucking war?"

"No fucking clue. But I'm sure it doesn't mean anything good for Hell."

"Well shit."

"Yeah," he agreed.

"Well enough about that shitty hotel and that annoying radio demon," said Velvette as she busied herself with cleaning up the mess they had created. "I'm exhausted after having to deal with a bunch of incompetent assholes all day and I'm sure you are too. How's about some sushi and trashy TV?" She turned to Vox after she threw away his ruined jacket and the bloody rubber gloves she wore.

"Can't," he said as he rolled down his sleeve to hide the bandaged arm. "Val and I have plans tonight."

"Plans?" she cried. "What sort of fucking plans? He going to smash your head in again?" Velvette put her hands on her hips and gave him a glare.

"Vel, it's not like he did it on purpose," he lied. He did NOT have the energy for this. "You know how we can get. Sometimes we get carried away." Vox threw her what he hoped was a convincing suggestive smirk.

Velvette's glare stated he wasn't as convincing as he usually was. "You mean HE gets carried away."

"No. I mean US," he said with more force. He wanted to end this now. He'd already wasted enough time as it was getting stitched up by Velvette. He wanted to try and take a shower before Valentino decided to pop in to his apartment if he wasn't there already. Or at least get a change of clothes.

"Don't fucking lie to me, Vox," she shouted. Clearly she wasn't going to drop this.

"I'm not," sighed Vox.

Velvette took a step towards Vox and got into his face. She grabbed his shoulders and brought him down slightly so they could be on the same level. She said in a serious voice, "Swear to me. Swear that he didn't do that to you on purpose."

Vox paused and stared back at her. God he hated this. Why couldn't she be more clueless like she was when he first met her?

She's been in Hell for less than ten years and when he first found her wondering the streets of Hell, newly dead and absolutely terrified, she was simply grateful to be sheltered and taken in. She was still getting her footing in the new world she found herself in. As such, she didn't question much, instead following Vox's lead and barely leaving his side. Vox attempted to keep Valentino away from her as much as possible and succeeded mostly until she started to climb her way up quickly towards her own power. At that point, it was impossible for him to keep Valentino's interest away from her.

Velvette's opinion of Valentino in the early days wasn't exactly perfect but at least it was more favorable. She took in his teachings along with Vox's like a sponge and was more than willing to join their little 'team'. Over time, however, her patience and admiration for Valentino seemed to dwindle.

Vox has attempted to shelter Velvette from what Valentino is truly like for a variety of reasons but mostly to protect her. Vox often wonders if he did the girl a disservice by bringing her back to Vee Tower and close to Valentino instead of leaving her on the streets to continue wondering. But at the time Vox was desperate. He was lonely and tired of having only Valentino in his life at that point. He missed having companionship that didn't result in pain. Perhaps Velvette was right, he was too soft for Hell.

Vox grabbed ahold of her arms, stared into her eyes, and said, "I swear."

"Fine," she said with a satisfied nod. "I trust you. But you better fucking tell me if he ever does shit to you on purpose." She jabbed a finger into his chest, emphasizing her point. "I'll rip his balls off and make him eat them if he does."

Despite himself Vox felt a warmth spread through his chest. "You better not let him hear you say that. He'd be devastated to hear his little babydoll threatening his manhood." On 'babydoll' Vox pitched his voice to immitate Valentino's accent, attempting to switch the tone of the conversation.

"Ugh, stop! You know I hate when he calls me that." Velvette rolled her eyes but smiled.

"Why? It's such a fitting name," he teased.

"You know what? Fuck you." She flipped him off. "You two deserve each other. Go choke on his dick or whatever the Hell you two think of as fun." She turned around to walk towards the bathroom door, missing the small flinch Vox gave at her comment. Without turning around she said, "I'll see you tomorrow. You owe me that sushi and shitty TV for having to clean you up again."

That actually sounded wonderful. Especially after the week he had been having. "Sounds like a date."

"And Vel?" Velvette stopped in the doorway at Vox's voice and turned to look at him. "Don't tell Valentino about the hotel and Alastor. He wouldn't understand."

She rolled her eyes again. "It's not like I understand either. But yeah. I won't tell him shit."

Vox gave her a sincere smile. "Thanks."

She returned his smile. "Don't mention it. Or do. You know how I love to hear the praise!"

Vox laughed as she continued to walk away. He heard the distant sound of his office door opening and closing, signaling her exit.

Left alone once more, Vox's mind couldn't help but turn towards Valentino and the night ahead of him. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and saw he hadn't received any texts from Val. That was likely a good thing. It meant that Valentino more than likely wasn't already waiting for him in his apartment.

Vox went to his desk and powered on his computer to do a quick check of the towers security cameras. He found that Valentino was still in his studio working. Good. He had some time still.

Vox exited his bathroom and office and made his way to the elevator, up to his penthouse apartment. Once inside he made his way to the bathroom and stripped, throwing his discarded clothes to the floor. He turned on the shower and as the water temperture heated up he wrapped some plastic around his bandaged arm. He didn't want to get it wet and make all of Velvette's work useless.

Once in the shower he let the water roll down his back and relax his still aching muscles. That ritual took more than he thought out of him, leaving him exhausted and weary. Of course the weariness wasn't just due to the ritual but a result of the anticipation of the night to come. Perhaps tonight wouldn't be so bad. Valentino wasn't always cruel or rough when with Vox. Some nights he could be gentle. Some nights Vox could almost fool himself into thinking things were like they were when they first met. Almost.

Once done with the shower he wrapped a towel around his waist and discarded the plastic. Vox grabbed his dirty clothes and brought them with him to his bedroom. Once inside, he dressed in a clean suit. He looked at himself in the mirror and flashed a smile at his reflection. It seemed strained and fatigued. Not good enough. He plastered on another smile, this time wider to try and make it reach his eyes. Better.

A ding could be heard from his dirty pants that he threw to the ground. His phone was still in it's pocket. Vox grabbed the pants and fished his phone out of the pocket. There was a new text from Valentino.

VAL:
On my way baby. Can't wait to see you.

Vox grimaced at the text. Let the show begin.

Vox didn't bother responding, knowing that Valentino would be up in a couple of minutes. Instead he mindlessly collected all of his dirty clothing to throw into the dirty laundry hamper while he fished out everything from the pockets.

His brows furrowed in confusion when he turned out his pants pockets but did not find anything else. He then checked the pocket from his waistcoat but again, nothing. That couldn't be right. Vox got down onto his hands and knees to look on the ground to see if he could find anything. Again, nothing. He went to the bathroom and was met with the same results.

Fuck. Where was the bullet?

Shit. Was it in his jacket pocket? The same jacket that was thrown in the trash downstairs. That would be just his luck. That meant he would have to go all the way down there to retrieve it before the trash was picked up later tonight.

Vox grumbled to himself under his breathe as he walked towards the front door to his apartment. If he hurried maybe he could get down there and back upstairs before Valentino arrived. As he opened the front door, however, he was met with the moth demon.

"Voxxy! Now where are you going?" Valentino grinned down at Vox, showing all his teeth as he strode past Vox into the apartment.

Vox stepped back in surprise, not realizing just how soon Valentino would be arriving. He quickly recovered, however, plastering on the same smile he practiced from earlier. "Why just getting the door for you, of course."

"Oh such a gentleman," purred Valentino who stroked one of his lower hands down the side of Vox's screen. He then continued further into the apartment and sat down on one of the couches, spreading out as much as possible with his long limbs.

"Come here Vox, baby. I've missed you all day." Valentino gave a small pout and reached out an open hand. Vox obliged and took the hand, getting pulled down onto the couch and next to Valentino.

Vox hummed. "I've missed you too."

Valentino adjusted Vox to have his back to him. Valentino then slipped Vox's jacket off of him and then began to rub Vox's shoulders. The ministrations felt nice on his stiff muscles. Vox could actually feel himself start to relax.

"Mmmm. You didn't act like it though," said Valentino. "You hardly texted me at all today."

"I was busy. You know how it is," responded Vox. He kept his voice light to convey a sense of casualness. It's not like Vox was lying anyway. He was busy throughout the day.

"Yes but still, would have been nice to get a couple texts so I knew you were at least thinking of me."

"Of course I was." Again, not technically a lie. "How could I not be thinking of you?"

Valentino gave a pleased hum. "So very true, baby."

Valentino continued to knead Vox's muscles who hung his head low to allow the best access to his back. He allowed himself to relax, feeling a sense of calm slowly wash over him.

He felt himself tense up slightly, however, once two of Valentino's hand reached to his front and untied his bowtie and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt. Meanwhile, his other two hands continued their work. The tension in his body did not go unnoticed.

"Relax, baby. It's just me." Valentino stroked a hand along the bright red line circling his dark neck. "I know every inch of you."

Vox gulped and felt his heartbeat increase. He hated the feel of anyone's hands near his neck, let alone Valentino's. Luckily, Valentino soon moved on and unbuttoned a couple more buttons in order to push his hands into Vox's shirt and onto his chest. Vox let out a breathe that Valentino snickered at. "That's it. I've got you, Vox darling."

Thankfully Valentino did not touch his neck again, choosing instead to run his hands along Vox's back and chest. He was gentle in his attention, not once turning firm or rough. Vox lost himself to the feeling, wanting to forget about the terrible day he had. He wanted to forget about Valentino's treatment the night before. Vox wanted to forget about so much more as well.

Soon Valentino had unbuttoned his shirt and waistcoat completely, exposing his skin to the cool air. Vox didn't pay much attention to Valentino who slipped the shirt down his shoulders and arms. It wasn't until Valentino gasped that he fully realized what had happened.

"Voxxy, your arm! What happened?"

Vox shot his eyes open. He looked down at his bandaged arm that Valentino had grabbed ahold of. He gave a nervous laugh. "I accidentally cut my arm up when I broke one of my monitors in my lab today. Not to worry. I got it all fixed up."

"Ohh poor Vox, darling. You need to be more careful." Valentino brought the bandaged arm to his lips which he kissed.

Vox hummed.

"Looks like you and I are a match made in Hell. We both can be some clumsy." Valentino pulled Vox backwards to make him lean his back against Valentino's chest. Val wrapped his arms around him and brought one hand underneath Vox's chin, pushing it up so Vox was looking upside-down at Valentino's face. "You know I didn't mean to crack your screen yesterday, right? I love that pretty face of yours."

Vox knew the script he was expected to say, despite both knowing the truth. "Of course, Val. I know."

"I'm glad," said Valentino while his lower arms began rubbing along Vox's thighs. His hand that didn't still have ahold of Vox's chin kept running along Vox's chest and abdomen making Vox shiver. "And looks like you managed to fix your screen up today too. That makes me even more glad. Looks so shiny and new."

Valentino leaned down and gave Vox a kiss. The kiss was slightly awkward with Vox's head being leaned backwards but it was no less passionate. When Valentino slipped his tongue into Vox's mouth he groaned. Maybe tonight Valentino really was going to make him feel nice.

The two continued to kiss and Valentino overwhelmed Vox with his hands all over him. Once Valentino's hand came to his crotch, grasping him through his pants, he gasped into Val's mouth. Valentino smirked down at him. Valentino began stroking him through the pants and his smirk only grew while he watched Vox squirm and make small whimpers of sound. Vox gazed up at Valentino through half-lidded eyes.

"You know what Vox?" Vox hummed at Valentino's voice, lost for words due to the pleasant feeling pooling in his groin. "I was thinking about something you said a little bit ago."

Valentino paused to unbuckle Vox's belt and unzip his pants. He slowly snaked one of his hands into Vox's underwear, grasping onto him. Vox let out a loud moan but didn't say anything, knowing Valentino would get to his point.

"You said that you hurt your arm in your lab today, isn't that right?" Vox nodded his head at the question and felt a slight sense of dread. He didn't know why Valentino was bringing this up now. He let out a whine as Valentino's hand pulled Vox's cock out of his pants while he moved it up and down.

"The only thing is you never went to your lab today," drawled Valentino. One of his hands that had been circling Vox's nipple moved up to Vox's neck, lightly running his fingers along it, along the mark. Vox gulped. "You worked from your apartment today. Or at least for most of it. Then later on you left in your limo."

Vox's breathe was coming fast, both from the pleasure and the anticipation of Valentino's ire. Valentino must have been keeping tabs on him today, knowing Vox's coming's and goings. Vox cleared his throat to speak, knowing he was expected to. "I'm sorry, I must have misspoke. I meant one of my monitors in my home office."

"Now, now, Voxxy," purred Valentino. His hand at his neck stopped the light touch and instead he simply placed it on and around his neck, not applying any pressure, but the threat was clear. Meanwhile, the hand on his cock increased it's pressure, right on the verge of painful. "You know how I hate when you lie to me."

"I'm not," said Vox, weakly.

All too fast Valentino's anger broke like a crack of lightening. Vox was flipped onto his back with Valentino straddling him and his arms pinned above him. One of Valentino's lower arms returned to Vox's neck and squeezed. Vox gasped but was still able to breathe, albeit with difficulty. Valentino got into his face and growled. "And if I go into your home office what am I expected to find, hmm? Will there be a broken monitor? Or will everything be in tip-top shape?"

"Vxx-val-" Vox glitched and was cut off by the hand squeezing harder, preventing him from speaking.

"Shut up! I'm sure everything is fine in there with not a thing out of place. You want to know how I know?" Vox didn't even attempt to answer, both because he knew the question was rhetorical and because Valentino's grip did not loosen. "One of my little assistants saw you stumbling your way through Vee Tower barely an hour ago with your arm bleeding," snarled Valentino.

Fuck! Vox was usually much better at his lying to Valentino. Usually he was paying far more attention to how much Valentino was monitoring him and usually he had more time to come up with a plausible lie. But his interactions with Alastor earlier really threw him off kilter, distracting him.

"Val, pxx-please. Let me exxxxx-plain." Vox could barely get the words out through the glitches and hand at his throat. Thankfully Valentino relented and loosened his hold.

Vox gasped for breathe and coughed for several moments. Meanwhile, Valentino glared down at him but did not rush Vox along until he had recovered from the lack of air and pain. "You're right. I li-xxx-lied. But only because I thought you'd be wo-xxxxxx-rrrrried if you knew the truth."

Valentino narrowed his eyes at him but didn't lash out. "What truth?"

The best lies always have a little bit of truth in them. Vox was an idiot for attempting to try and tell Valentino an outright lie when he wasn't at the top of his game.

"I went to the Hazzzzbin Hotel."

Valentino screwed his eyebrows up in confusion. "The Princessa's hotel? Why the Hell would you do that?" Then a thought came to him and he barked out a cruel laugh. "Oh please! Don't tell me you're actually going to sponsor her hotel?"

In the back of Vox's mind he thought to himself why does everyone keep thinking that? But he ignored it and continued. "No. I went because she told me Alastor was hu-xxxx-hurt. Wanted me to helllllp. Obviously wasn't going to do that. But I did want to see him suffffering."

Valentino let go of Vox's neck and leaned back in exasperation. "Oh for fuck's sake! It's always about that damned Radio Demon!"

"I know! I'm sorry! But I wa-xxx-nted to see it for myself. Make sure that he was really down for the count."

"Pssh. And let me guess, he wasn't?" Valentino grabbed Vox's hurt arm and pulled it up, shaking it for emphasis.

Vox gave his best sheepish smile, leaning into the thought that Alastor had caused the cut. Well, yet again, not entirely a lie. "Unfortunately."

"Ugh. Voxxy baby. You need to be more careful." Valentino leaned down, brushing a hand down Vox's screen. "You're too reckless when it comes to that demon."

"I know." And wasn't that the truth.

"You know and yet you keep doing that," scolded Valentino, but there wasn't much bite behind it. Vox was thankful. It seemed he had placated Valentino.

"It's hard for me to ignore him sometimes," said Vox. He rested his hands on Valentino's thighs, hoping to steer the conversation away from all things Alastor.

Val's lower hands began to start their trek back down Vox's stomach, towards his groin, while Val wore a lecherous look. "Mmm, don't I know it. But let me help you forget about him, sweetheart. Let me make you feel good."

Valentino leaned in again for a kiss, shoving his tongue into Vox's mouth which he welcomed in without restraint. Vox wanted to continue to distract Valentino from further exploring the line of thinking surrounding Alastor and the hotel, which he knew he could accomplish by feeding into Val's desires. It was the best way at redirecting his focus.

Vox arched his back towards Valentino once his hands found Vox's cock once more. He groaned as Val began to fondle him again. Val broke the kiss to stick his own fingers inside his mouth, coating them with his thick pink saliva. He pulled his fingers out of his mouth with a pop. "I think you deserve a treat after all the pain you've been through the past couple of days. Between your screen and your arm, you need to let off some steam, isn't that right baby?"

Valentino reached down between his own legs and shoved his fingers inside himself, whipping his head back with a loud moan. Vox watched as Valentino moved his hand within himself, opening himself up. Vox's eyes were wide, shocked at the display in front of him. Rarely did Valentino decide to switch roles with Vox, usually preferring to be the one to bend Vox over and shove his way in. Valentino seemed to be aware of Vox's line of thinking because he looked at Vox with a smirking and knowing smile.

Valentino placed his upper hands on either side of Vox's head and then pulled his fingers out of himself. He brought the hand to his mouth which he then spit into, trailing a line of saliva to it. He stared into Vox's eyes as he brought the hand to Vox's cock, replacing his hands and coating it with Val's spit.

He then positioned himself over Vox's penis, slowly sliding himself down. Vox gasped as his breathe caught in his throat. Valentino's head was thrown back, basking in his own pleasure as he moved his hips in a circle, adjusting to the sensation of being filled. So rarely was Vox afforded the same curtesy of adjusting to the sudden change, but Vox also had no desire to speed things along now either.

Once Valentino felt ready to move he looked back down at Vox and pulled Vox in to a brusing but short kiss. He then pushed Vox back down and began to move up and down, hands on Vox's chest. Valentino looked at Vox with half-lidded eyes, letting out gasps and moans that mixed with Vox's own. As they continued, Valentino began to pick up speed and raised the volume of his cries.

Vox's mind drifted, filling with only the sensations of Val. He helped force that drifting along, choosing to forget everything else.

In that moment Vox managed to accomplish what he desired. He was able to almost forget about everything else. He was almost able to fool himself into thinking that this was just like old times. Almost, of course, except for the soreness in his throat.

Notes:

In my mind, Vox is kind of the one that brings the Vee's together and the glue that holds them together. I know I've seen on the Wiki that the creators have said that Velvette is the one that kind of holds them together but I feel like we really haven't seen that at all in the show. If anything Vox is the one that is constantly putting out fires and holding things together. For my story, I imagine Velvette as mostly just tolerating Valentino for the sake of Vox while Valentino imagines they have a far more friendly relationship between the two. Really wasn't expecting to put this much Velvette into this chapter but genuinely pretty happy about it. Really want to explore more about hers and Vox's relationship. I got plans.

Also, I know that some people have mentioned they haven't seen much comfort in this story thus far, despite a tag stating there will be comfort. Well, I hope this provides SOME comfort, despite me throwing more hurt and angst right at y'all right afterwards. I swear there will be comfort in this story, just a lot of it will be more later on. You know....after I've thoroughly fucked with Vox. This really is a slow burn for a lot of things in this story.

Finally, again, I'm very exhausted this week. I will respond to comments hopefully tomorrow after work. I do enjoy the comments that people send me and enjoy responding to them. I just don't have the energy tonight and really just wanted to get this chapter posted for everyone!

Stay tuned for chapter 6!

Chapter 6: A Cruel Price of War

Summary:

The year is 1917. The Great War has started and the young men of the world have left their homes, whether they wish to or not. In the present, a precious token has been returned to it's owner and the offer to fix a broken friendship has been extended.

Notes:

Welp I'm back! I know this update is a week later but as I said I was out of town last weekend and didn't expect to be able to update. That being said, I updated far later than I was expecting. I hope the wait was worth it!

TW for this chapter: allusions to domestic violence and strangulation (nothing graphic), mentions of suicide

1917

Xavier kneeled in unison with the crowd around him, bowing his head and clasping his hands together, raised to just under his chin. Father Michael stood before him and the rest of the crowd, leading them in prayer. The occasional whimper or gurgle from the smaller children in the congregation could be heard, but other than that everyone was silent as they listened to the word of God.

"May God guide the brave young men who fight for our country overseas, battling in God's name and for our freedom. May he protect them and guide them toward a swift victory, bringing them back home, safe and sound," droned on Father Michael. "And may he guide those who have been called to aid their brothers, lending them a hand as well, and giving them the courage and will to fight."

Xavier stiffened at the words and attempted to tune out the rest of the priests prayer. He felt his brother next to him gently touch his arm with his elbow once he noticed Xavier's unease. While Xavier would usually lean into the comfort he instead leaned away from the contact, accidentally nudging his mother. She muttered a reproach under her breathe and pushed him back to his original position.

"Amen," said Father Michael, ending the prayer. Xavier automatically repeated the word along with the rest of the crowd. They got back up into a standing position and began to sing a hymn.

Throughout the rest of the service Xavier remained tense and stood as close as he could to his mother without touching her for fear of further reproach. Thankfully his brother did not attempt further contact and remained at a distance, instead choosing to stay close to their sister who stood on the other side of him.

Xavier felt his heart ache at the action, longing to be close as well but stubbornly refusing to give in.

Once the service came to a close, Xavier stormed his way out of the church and waited outside for his family. Soon enough the other four made their way outside and towards Xavier. He could see a scowl on his father's face and knew that he could not rush off back home without the others without facing severe consequences later. He knew that his father was in a foul mood as well, despite trying to mask it, and knew that if Xavier put one foot out of line then his father would have an excuse to let loose his anger.

Xavier waited until the others got close and then started off towards their home. He made sure he left a couple of feet in-between himself and the rest of his family. For once his father did not comment. It seemed that the older man wished to keep his distance as well, instead preferring to stay close to his eldest. Xavier could hear the other's in amicable conversation behind him but refused to join in.

After several minutes of walking with the dispersing crowd of churchgoers, their home finally appeared in Xavier's vision. He took off at a sprint, opening their front door and closing it with some force. He rushed up their stairs, loosening his tie and unbuttoning the top couple buttons of his Sunday-best shirt. In the upstairs hallway he jumped up and grabbed ahold of the short string hanging from the ceiling. As his feet landed back on the ground his momentum pulled the attic door open, releasing the stairs hidden behind the door.

He climbed up the stairs as he heard the front door reopen. Once inside the dark cover of the attic, he pulled the stairs back into position, plunging the room into further darkness. He walked over to the small circular window that had a view to the front yard, pulling his suit jacket off and throwing it to the ground.

Xavier kicked off his shoes, flinging them across the room and into the wall, causing two loud bangs. He then flopped down to the ground in front of the window, coming to sit on the pill of pillows and blankets resting there. In the heap of fabric, he found his falling-apart shark stuffed animal and wrapped it in his arms that he also wrapped around his knees he had pulled to his chest. He looked out the grimy window and glared at the street below.

He heard the attic door open but he refused to turn his head. Two sets of footsteps climbed up the stairs before the door was closed once more. Still he did not turn his head as the two approached him.

He heard his brother sigh before sitting down next to Xavier. Their sister positioned herself close by, on the chest of clothes they so enjoyed dressing up with, even now that the other two were in their teens. Many times had they heard their father reprimand them for their childish antics.

"So," said Victor after a long pause. "This how it's going to be? All the way up to when I leave later today?"

Xavier's brows furrowed further, almost painfully. He pushed his head further down past his crossed arms, only allowing his eyes to peak over. Still he did not turn his head.

Victor sighed. "You know, I really wouldn't like for our last words before I leave to be in anger. Not exactly the best way to remember you by. And vice versa."

Xavier grunted but said nothing. He pressed the side of his forehead against the window, ignoring the dust.

Olivia gave a great huff. "It's not like Victor has a choice, Xavier. He's been drafted. He has to go!" she raised her voice in anger.

Xavier finally whipped his head around, matching her ire. "Yes but he w-w-wants to go! Even if he hadn't beeeeeen drafted he'd have signed up hi-hi-himself!"

"No he wouldn't have!" shouted Olivia.

"Actually, I would have."

The two younger siblings whipped their heads towards the eldest, one looking at him in shock and the other looking at him in vindicated anger.

"Look," said Victor who ran a hand through his hair and leaned back against the wall. "Neither of you would understand. Olivia you're a girl and Xavier you're too young. But I have to go. I NEED to go. So many of my friends have already gone off to war after they turned eighteen. Now that I'm old enough I have to go. I have to fight for our country."

Xavier scoffed and turned back to staring out the window. He grumbled, "Such an idiot. I th-th-thought you were smarter than that."

"Victor!" cried Olivia who jumped to her feet. "You want to go to war?!"

"What? Would you prefer I be afraid and miserable?!" Victor shouted back. "Isn't it preferable that I'm happy?"

"No! You should want to stay here! With us!" Olivia stomped over to them and grabbed a pillow off the ground. She began hitting Victor with it. "You could die! Xavier's right! You ARE an idiot!"

Victor threw his hands out to stop the assault. "Hey! Olivia stop!" He finally grabbed ahold of the pillow and wrenched it from Olivia's hands. "I'll be fine! I won't die!"

"You don't know that!" she screeched.

"Olivia come on! I thought we came up here to comfort Xavier. You're only making things worse by yelling like this!"

Olivia looked as if she was going to keep yelling but she was cut off by Xavier who grumbled. "It's fine. It's not like I h-h-haven't been thinking all this anyways."

The two older siblings deflated at his words. They gave each other a sad look before Olivia flopped down on top of the pillows too, facing the boys. She placed a hand on one of Xavier's bent knees. She took it as a win when he didn't shake it off.

Victor sighed again and looked at his dejected siblings. They were only so worked up because of their concern for their eldest sibling. "I know you two think I'm stupid just like all the other men excited to go to war. And in a way I'm glad for that. It means neither one of you are fighters. I'd prefer to keep the two of you safe and far from harms way. And maybe that's hypocritical of me wanting to put myself in harms way but it's something I gotta do. I can't just sit back while the rest of the world goes to war and it puts everyone at risk. For now the fighting is contained to overseas. But what if it comes over here? I can't bare the thought of something happening to either of you."

Xavier's shoulders tensed. Olivia thankfully voiced what he was thinking. "Yeah and we can't bare the thought of something happening to you either, you dumby."

"I'll be fine, Olivia," Victor said in a gentle voice.

She rolled her eyes. "You can't know that."

"Maybe not," he said. "But also I can't die. We still got so much left to do, the three of us."

Olivia groaned. "Ugh. Stop with the Vox stuff, Victor. This is serious!"

"I am being serious!" he said with a hand clasped at his chest. He put on an exaggerated state of affront, attempting to lighten the mood. "Vox is some serious stuff! To deprive the world of the genius and talent of Vox would be a tragedy!"

"A war is going on. That's an ACTUAL tragedy," said Olivia.

"Yeah I know. I know. Just listen, with Vox-"

"Promise." Victor was cut off by Xavier. The small boy turned towards his brother. "Promise you'll come b-b-b-bbback. Promise that you'll be alright."

Victor met Xavier's intense stare and placed one hand on his shoulder. He gave a small but sincere smile. "I promise."

Xavier didn't know if he really believed his brother. And it was clear that Olivia didn't either with her troubled look. But the two wanted to believe the promise just like they believed all the other promises and dreams that Victor would weave for them. His grand ambitions and imagination fueled them on. It was hard not to believe at least a little in what he said when he said it with such confidence and conviction.

"Ok," said Xavier, giving one small nod, accepting Victor's promise.

Victor laughed. "Ha ha! There it is! That's what I have been waiting for!" Victor flung his arm around Xavier, pulling him close. Xavier was helpless in falling against his brother but he didn't complain, instead smiling and laughing with him. Victor looked at Olivia and threw out his other arm in invitation. Olivia gratefully crawled towards him and leaned against Victor's other side as he pulled her close too.

"Just you wait. I'll be shipped out, win this damn war, and be back to annoy you two soon enough!"

"Oh please, you ain't winning shit," said Olivia with exasperation. She rolled her eyes again but spoke with no real heat. "You'll be back to annoy us for sure though."

Xavier nodded his head, smiling up at his older siblings. "Oh for sure."

Victor looked at Xavier with mock offense and ruffled the smaller boys hair. "Xavier, my dear brother, how you wound me."

"You'll be fine. I'm sure," said Olivia.

"Well," said Victor. "You guys know what day of the week it is right? Alastor has one of his shows later. I think I'll have just enough time to listen to it before I have to leave."

Olivia and Xavier smiled at each other. "That sounds lovely," said Olivia.

"Perfect!" cried Victor. His smile fell slightly then and he took on a more serious tone when he addressed the other two. "Until then though we should go back downstairs and spend time with mom and dad. I know they're trying to hide it but they're also sad to see me leaving."

Xavier scowled again but knew Victor was right. It was best to appease their parents and go downstairs, otherwise there would be Hell to pay once Victor left. Surely there would be anyways, Victor being about the only one who could calm their father. But allowing their father time with Victor before his departure was a good idea.

Victor pulled his arms away from his siblings and stood up. He turned around and offered both his hands to them, pulling them up once they grabbed ahold. He placed a hand on each of their shoulders and squeezed, offering a blinding but reassuring smile.

"Just you wait, I'll be home in time for Christmas. I promise."

____________________________

Angel Dust grumbled to himself as he walked down the dingy street with tense shoulders. He would prefer not to be walking this particular familiar path unless if he had to. And seeing as he didn't have work until much later, he was in a foul mood.

"You know you don't have to come with me." Angel looked at Husk who was walking beside him, looking at Angel out of the corner of his eyes. Husk continued and said, "I know my way around this city too. You could have just told me who to speak to and I would have been fine."

Angel scowled and looked back to the path ahead of him. "Like Hell I'm letting you go alone. Don't want you disappearing because some Overlord gets pissed at ya."

Husk huffed. "I already told you. He ain't going to hurt me."

Angel rolled his eyes. "He's an Overlord, Husk. You don't know that."

"I do actually," said Husk. "I know you don't trust the guy, and honestly I don't blame you considering everything, but I know Vox." His ears flicked in agitation. "Or well, I did. It's uhh, it's been a while."

"Oh yeah?" said Angel. "You said something about it being like ten years since you guys talked last, right?"

Husk rubbed his hand on the back of his neck and then shrugged. "We didn't exactly talk that much. It was more like we saw each other in passing. It's been even longer since we had a real conversation or spent any significant amount of time around each other."

"And when was that?"

Husk gave a humorless laugh before giving a sad smile to Angel. "Shortly after I sold my soul to Alastor."

Angel's eyes widened slightly before the two lapsed into silence. It was obvious that there was more to that story and there was a fair amount of history between Husk and Vox. Which wasn't hard to guess considering Husk's past as an Overlord. Angel would have assumed that Husk and Vox would have hated each other until he saw their interactions the day prior. There wasn't just a level of familiarity, there was a certain amount of comradery, however muted it may have been. While Vox was rolling around on the floor, screaming in pain from that damn creepy Voodoo spell he was performing, Husk was quick to crouch at the Overlords side in fear and concern. Husk tried calling to the other with no response. Angel had never heard Husk sound so scared and worried.

Angel was trying to hide how much that disturbed him, Husk's concern for Vox, but he knew he wasn't doing a very good job of it. Husk had tried convincing Angel not to worry about his decision to go see Vox in person but Angel couldn't trust the Overlord. He was Valentino's boyfriend and one of the Vee's. No way was Angel going to let Husk go see Vox alone.

"Were you guys friends?" asked Angel quietly.

Husk raised a hand and shrugged. "More or less. When you're an Overlord you often don't really have friends. Not true ones. Or at least I didn't. We were certainly friendly and I enjoyed his company, but I never really trusted him completely. But I never trusted anyone for that matter. Not back then."

Angel scoffed. "And you're trying to tell me to trust him now? Seriously Husk? You just said you didn't trust the guy when you were friends!"

"I didn't say that mistrust was warranted, just that I didn't trust him back then," said Husk, defensively. "That had more to do with my own problems in life and death than anything. I WISH I trusted him back then. My life might have turned out differently if I had."

"Yeah, and how's that?" said Angel petulantly.

"I might not have never had to sell my soul."

Angel's eyebrows furrowed in anger and confusion. "How's that?"

Husk sighed and ran a hand over his head, through his fur. "Back when I was an Overlord and starting to lose my power, my troubles became known to the other Overlord's pretty quickly. With everyone knowin about it I was becoming more desperate by the day and taking bigger risks in order to try and hold onto that rapidly evaporatin power. Vox came to me and offered help. I...took it badly. Felt my pride was hurt and took his concern for pity or an attempt at manipulating me. Told him to fuck off."

Husk trailed off in his explanation, looking down at his feet as they walked. Angel waited for the other to continue, not wanting to rush him to talk about something that was clearly painful for him.

"Shortly after that things started spiraling out of control for me. That's when Alastor came to me and I became desperate. I ended up losing my own damn soul in a game of poker. Me! The Overlord of gambling!" Husk barked out a single loud bitter laugh and then shook his head back and forth at his own rotten luck. "I'm quite certain that bastard cheated but the deal still stood. He won and now he owns my soul."

Angel sneered at the ground in anger. "Yeah and Vox and Al were friends back then. How do you know Vox's offer at help wasn't actually him trying to manipulate ya? He and Alastor made some sort of plan to push you to make increasingly more risky deals that resulted in Alastor ownin your soul?"

Husk shook his head. "Nah, that ain't it. I mean that thought did cross my mind after I lost my soul but I don't think that's the case. Back at that time things were complicated between Alastor and Vox. Things were...strained. I won't lie and say I ever really understood their relationship but they were far closer before that. While I was friendly with Vox I never was with Al. He was that Overlord that everyone tolerated because of his power and close relationship with Rosie and Vox. No one else besides those two ever seemed to actually like the man."

The two rounded a corner in their trek with V Tower looming in the distance. "After I sold my soul I remember Vox showin up. He seemed shocked to learn that Alastor owned me. He was pissed. I heard them arguin over me which pissed me off more than anything at the time. My pride was already wounded and I didn't want anything to do with what I saw as pity. Told him to fuck off again." Husk kicked an old bottle in anger that had been discarded on the sidewalk. The bottle went flying and shattered against a wall.

"Things became fairly strained between us too after that," he said in a quiet voice. "I saw him whenever he'd come around Al but I always ignored him when he'd try to talk to me. He eventually stopped tryin. He came around less and less over time, things gettin worse between him and Al. Eventually he stopped all together. After that I'd only see him every once and a while in passing. We hardly ever spoke when we did."

They lapsed into silence again. V Tower grew ever bigger on the horizon, putting Angel on edge. He hated the place and hated being around it.

"What happened to them? Why'd they have a fallin out?" asked Angel.

"Not a clue. Like I said I never was close with Al. And I never talked to Vox about him. He hardly talked to others about Alastor besides Rosie. He knew that nobody else liked the guy so he chose to not talk about him with others. And once things started gettin bad between the two I was too focused on my own problems to even think to ask," said Husk. He huffed.

Angel looked at Husk out of the corner of his eyes, attempting to discreetly examine the man. He looked sad, and tired. He knew the topic of Husk losing his soul was a touchy one but that wasn't all this was.

"You miss him, dontcha?" asked Angel. He tried to keep the bitterness from his voice but he knew he didn't accomplish it.

Husk gave a soft chuckle. "Jealous?"

"No!" cried Angel defensively. "I'm just worried about you, stupid! I don't want him hurtin you!"

"I already told you, Angel, he ain't goin to hurt me."

"So you say," he grumbled. He threw up his hands in exasperation. "Why are you even doin this, huh? Why risk puttin yourself in danger just so's you can return some damned bullet to the man?"

"It's important to him," Husk said.

"Yeah, that parts obvious. Alastor started pissin himself from laughter when Vox showed it to him. Riled Vox up for sure. What's so important about a fuckin bullet, angelic or otherwise?" asked Angel.

Husk shrugged. "I don't know. He was always tight-lipped about the thing, the handful of times I saw him fiddlin with it. Seemed like it was more than just a simple bullet to him. And clearly it is. I'm sure he'll be appreciative if I return it to him."

"Pssh. Let's hope," said Angel under his breathe. Husk heard him but chose not to comment.

V Tower was just up the hill, a short distance away. The building was huge and climbed high into the sky. The pink tinted windows and glowing LED lights illuminated the area, reflecting off the surrounding buildings. It was something that drew the attention of everyone close by, even with the other garishly loud businesses and skyscrapers in the vicinity.

"We'll have to talk to Vox's assistant. He's a nervous little guy but he knows me. If I talk to him then maybe he'll let us talk to Vox without making us schedule a damn meeting weeks from now," said Angel who came to a stop across the street from the tower, gazing at the front door in apprehension. He dearly hoped that Valentino didn't catch wind of him trying to talk to Vox. He could only imagine what the moth demon would think. Valentino was notoriously jealous and Angel Dust trying to talk to Vox would seem rather strange, especially since the two have so rarely had direct contact with each other outside of Valentino being present.

Husk's ears began to twitch with one ear turning towards the alleyway along V Tower. He then turned his head completely towards that direction and began to cross the street, headed towards it.

Angel scrambled to follow. "Uhhh Husk, where the fuck you think you goin? We gotta go inside if you want to talk to Vox."

Husk gave Angel a shushing motion with one finger pressed to his own lips. Husk then kept walking towards the alley. As they got closer Angel started to hear a distant noise rise above the loud sounds of the city. It sounded like someone cursing in anger, throwing shit everywhere. Angel approached with apprehension but followed Husk, not wanting to leave the other alone for fear of whoever was lurking would lash out at Husk in their anger. Angel tried to get Husk's attention and get him to stop approaching but Husk wouldn't listen.

Once they got to the opening of the alley Angel could hear more clearly. The sounds were coming from a dumpster further along the wall where various trash items could be seen being thrown from inside. The person inside's voice carried to Angel's ears and his eyes widened once he realized it was Vox he was hearing.

"Fuck! Where is it? It's gotta be in here somewhere. Piece of shit!"

A loud bang could be heard from the dumpster and then more trash was thrown out. Vox's head then popped into view as he stood up. His clothing was disheveled and he was missing his jacket with his sleeves rolled up. A white bandage was seen wrapped around one arm, reminding Angel of the cut that he had inflicted on himself the day before. Smears of dirt and grim were prevalent on his shirt and vest, standing out due to the white and red of his clothes. The bowtie that was usually wrapped around his neck was also missing with the top several buttons of his shirt undone. All in all, Vox looked terrible.

But what really made the other demon look terrible was his neck. Vox climbed out of the dumpster, all the while shouting curses as he struggled. Once his feet were on the ground he turned towards Angel and Husk, attempting to wipe the dirt from his clothes. Vox hadn't noticed the other two yet and while he ran his hands over himself Angel's eyes gravitated towards Vox's exposed neck.

Angel knew of Vox's death, just like everyone else. While Vox died some years after Angel, the stir that Vox's death created in Hell was huge. There was quite the uproar of a bigshot television and movie star dying and winding up in Hell, creating an even bigger splash than on Earth. While Angel typically didn't pay attention to the drama going on in Hell, he paid attention to this drama due to the familiar name of Xavier Vox being muttered on everyone's lips. Xavier Vox was one of Angel's favorite actors when he was alive and he couldn't believe the things people were saying about him. It seemed even more bizarre than some of the actors more outrageous films he stared in.

The name Xavier Vox wasn't the actors real name, but simply his stage name, meaning he was more than familiar with adopting a new name suited to a new role. He soon dropped the name Xavier and stuck with Vox. While Vox was once a name that struck awe and wonder into those who heard it, it soon struck fear into others. Of course, that took some time for at first any who heard the name Vox only sneered and laughed mockingly at the stories they heard about the pathetic actor who hung himself.

The bright red line wrapping around Vox's neck seemed to cut through the darkness, drawing Angel's eyes like a magnet. Angel had never seen Vox with his shirt unbuttoned and it was clear why. While the red line was hard to miss what really drew Angel's attention was the bluish discoloration surrounding it, in the shape of a hand. Somebody had put their hand on Vox's neck and strangled him.

Husk cleared his throat from his position next to Angel, startling him from his enraptured stare. Vox also startled, jumping slightly and causing his hands to freeze in their movement across his clothes. Vox stared wide-eyed at Husk and Angel, not expecting to have been caught dumpster diving.

"Uhhh, you lookin for something?" asked Husk.

Vox quickly recovered and stood up straight, attempting to put on a dignified air. It fell flat with his still grungy look. "Just something one of my stupid employees threw out on accident. Nothing of consequence."

"Uhh huh," said Husk skeptically. "And why ain't one of them rummaging threw the trash when it's no big deal, meanwhile their boss is caked in grim and trash? Hell, why look for it in the first place?"

Vox scowled. "That is of no concern to you, surely."

Vox's eyes turned towards Angel who was still staring at the other. Vox's eyes widened marginally and a hand shot to his naked neck. He clearly had forgotten about the state of his undress. He quickly re-buttoned the shirt and then pulled his tie from his pocket. Angel looked away in embarrassment from having been caught looking.

"What are you two even doing here?" asked Vox, harshly. He fastened the tie around his neck with far more force than was necessary. He winced at the movement and pushed a finger underneath his collar, pulling slightly to loosen it. "From what I know, you don't have a shift until later, Angel Dust."

"Yeah, that's not why we're here," said Husk.

"Oh? And why ARE you here, Husk? It's not like you've set foot in this area of town in decades," sneered Vox. He began to roll down his sleeves, refusing to look at the other two.

"Yeah," muttered Husk, sheepishly. "Sorry about that. Didn't feel like I'd exactly be welcome in this part of town. At least not anymore."

Vox furrowed his eyebrows and starred at Husk after buttoning his sleeves. "Well clearly you've gotten over that." Vox gave a quick look to Angel before looking back at Husk. "What? Walking you're new FRIEND to work?" Vox sneered at the word 'friend'.

"Like you said, I ain't got work until later," said Angel quietly. Husk looked at Angel questioningly at his tone in voice. Angel refused to turn to Husk. His body felt high strung and his nerves run ragged. He was already distressed over coming to V Tower when he didn't have to but his feelings of discontent only increased after he had laid eyes on Vox's neck.

Vox didn't respond to Angel who also was holding himself stiff. Husk took a couple of steps into the alley, approaching Vox while he pushed his hand into his pants pocket. "I think I might know what you've been lookin for. Here." Husk pulled his hand out once he stood in front of Vox. Angel could see him unclasp his fist but from his angle and distance Angel didn't see what was in Husk's hand but knew what it was.

Vox's eyes blew wide and his mouth opened slightly in shock. He stared down at Husk's opened hand. "Looks like you dropped this back at the hotel. Wanted to return it."

Vox reached one of his shaking hands up slowly, picking up the bullet between finger and thumb. He looked at it for a good couple of seconds before speaking. "Where was it?"

"You dropped it in Alastor's room. Found it on his floor while I was cleanin up after you."

Angel could see Vox bowtie bob as he swallowed thickly. "Thanks," he said quietly.

Vox clutched the bullet tightly in his hand before putting it into his pants pocket. When he pulled his empty hand out he placed it over the outside of his pocket as if to ensure he kept it in place. "Don't mention it," said Husk.

After a couple of tense moments Husk cleared his throat again. Vox looked up at him after he had allowed his gaze to fall to the ground. "You alright there, Vox? You seem...tired," said Husk.

Husk was right. He did look tired. And no wonder, thought Angel. His own neck throbbed in sympathy at the angry bruise that was underneath Vox's collar.

Vox's facial expressions changed in an instant, as if the weary look was never even there. Angel was almost impressed with the flawless change in demeanor and the wide grin that cut across Vox's screen. This was the Vox he was familiar with, the smiling CEO and Overlord.

"Why of course, Husker my dear. I've never been better!" said Vox with enthusiasm. Husk gave him a look that said he didn't believe him.

"Mmm hmm. Because yesterday you looked like shit when you ran off from the hotel. And you still look like shit today," Husk said.

"Yes and as you saw I WAS just sifting through a trash can," said Vox who barked out a laugh that was far too loud. "With a change of clothes and a shower I'll be good as new!"

"Hhm." Husk stared at Vox for a long moment but didn't push. He sighed and turned to walk back towards Angel. "If you say so. But if you need a break and a drink or two you know where to find me. There's a bar at the hotel. You're welcome to come visit anytime."

Angel looked at Husk in shock who only gave a serious look at Angel while he still had his back turned to Vox. As such, he missed the stricken look Vox threw at the back of Husk's head, clearly not expecting such an offer.

"I know the Princess already extended her invitation to come back to the hotel but I'm doing the same. You're welcome any time," said Husk.

Vox laughed. "Oh please! Don't tell me you believe in the whole redemption bullshit too?"

"No, not really," said Husk in a serious tone. "But who knows, maybe it is possible. It's not like anyone's ever tried before."

Vox scowled. "That's oddly optimistic of you."

It was Husk's turn to laugh, but his was far more light and sincere than Vox's. "Yeah. I think I've been ruined. Charlie's damn bleedin heart has a way of infecting those around her. Ain't that right, Angel?"

Angel froze at being addressed. He looked to Husk and the warm expression he wore when he looked to Angel. He felt his own expression soften. "Yeah. I guess it does," he said.

Husk broke eye contact to turn his head over his shoulder towards Vox. "But that ain't why I was extending the invitation. Just wanted you to know that I'm always open to serving you drinks. I'm a pretty good bartender, if I do say so myself. Great at lending an ear if you need it."

"Just like old times," said Vox quietly.

Husk grimaced. "Hopefully not exactly like old times. I like to think things could be better. Or at least I could."

Husk turned back around without waiting for an answer. He began walking towards the exit of the alley. He threw one hand up in a wave. "Hope to be seeing you around, old friend. It's been nice seeing you. Truly."

Angel gave one last look at Vox who stood there staring at the two in silence. Angel then turned to follow Husk back out to the street.

For several minutes they walked in silence. They walked back down the street and back around the corner they came from several minutes prior. Once V Tower no longer loomed behind them Angel spoke. "Did you see his neck?"

"Yeah," grunted out Husk. More silence.

"What do you know of Vox's relationship with Valentino?" asked Angel in a strained tone of voice. Husk sharply turned his head to look at him before turning it back.

"Not much. Honestly I didn't know much about Valentino until I met you. He had only recently became an Overlord before I lost my status as one. Always thought he was a slimly little bastard so I tried to steer clear of him. He was real sweet on Vox though." Husk scowled. "I remember Al hated the guy too. About the only thing that endeared me towards him. But then again I just thought Al may have been jealous of Vox's attentions towards Valentino."

"Alastor! Jealous?!" choked out Angel.

"Not in the way you think," said Husk, rolling his eyes. "Al ain't got a single sexual or romantic bone in his body. But he is protective of what he considers his. And that includes the few people he considers friends. He didn't like Valentino lurking around Vox all the time. Probably had something to do with their falling out. I don't know. I ain't got the details, like I said. But..."

Husk came to a stop. Angel walked a couple more steps ahead before realizing and coming to a stop too. He looked at Husk who wore a distraught expression on his face.

"When Valentino first showed up I tried telling Vox the man was a creep. He seemed to listen...to an extent. I never talked to him about Valentino again because I started getting into trouble and anything outside my own problems fell to the wayside. When I heard about Vox's team up with Valentino I thought it seemed strange but I didn't think much on it because my soul belonged to Alastor at that point and I hadn't talked to Vox in a while."

Husk's eyebrows furrowed and he looked at Angel with a sad look. "It wasn't until I met you and you told me all about Valentino that I began thinkin. I told myself I was worryin for nothing but then I saw that bruise on his neck." Husk took a step towards Angel. "You were thinkin the same thing as I was, weren't ya? You wouldn't have asked about Vox and Valentino's relationship if you weren't."

Angel looked away and turned his back to Husk. He brought his arms up to grab ahold of one another, clutching himself in an imitation of a hug. He felt uncomfortable thinking about it. Vox was an Overlord. He wasn't some battered victim of Valentino's. He was an abuser just as much as Val was. He was a Vee. He was a Sinner. He was a monster who terrified the rest of Hell.

And he was a man who was desperate and broken enough to kill himself. What other things would he stoop to if pushed far enough? Especially when he was alone and his only friends in Hell had pushed him away?

"Even if Vox is anything like me it's not like you can do anything about it, Husk. Valentino is an Overlord. And so is Vox. And ya ain't anymore. You can't help him." What went unsaid was that Husk couldn't help him either. At least not in any significant way.

Angel heard Husk sigh. "Yeah. I guess you're right."

"Who knows," said Angel. "Maybe he'll actually take you up on your offer for that drink."

"I sure hope so, Angie." Husk started walking again and Angel followed. "I sure hope so."

___________________________

1918

Christmas came and went. Victor did not return home and the war didn't end. With the first signs of spring appearing, six months had passed since Xavier had seen his brother last. The family got the occasional letter from Victor, some in response to the sporadic letters he was actually able to receive from them, others just provided an update on how things were going.

His parents were always thrilled to receive the letters, citing the good tidings from Victor as evidence of the war ending soon and the high spirit of their eldest child. Xavier and Olivia were able to read between the lines, however, and could tell their brother's opinions of the war had changed. Victor was terrified. And he wanted to come home.

Xavier sat in the attic, working on a new radio he had found in a dumpster. He was attempting to revive it despite the sorry state it was in. He sat next to the same window he sat before some six month prior.

Most days after school he could be found sitting in the attic, gazing outside the window, hoping to see his brother return. He knew it was a silly sentiment for his brother would not simply arrive unannounced one day. They would be notified first of his return. And that would only happen if the war had ended or if he was so severely injured he could not fight further. Some nights, when Xavier was especially fearful for his brother's safety, he found himself hoping for his brother to be shot in the leg or hand, damaging him irreparably so he could return home. Even a hurt and crippled brother was better than a dead one.

Whenever he had those thoughts an overwhelming feeling of guilt would overtake him. Next church service would find him clutching desperately at his hands, begging for forgiveness for his terrible thoughts, and asking for his brother to come home safely.

Olivia sat on the floor, using their chest as a table while she read and listened to their still working radio. Alastor was speaking on the radio, talking about the next song he was about to play. In the past the two would be far more invested in the show but since Victor had left their enthusiasm for their favorite radio host had dwindled. The radio was simply background noise, meant to fill the suffocating silence that would otherwise be present.

Xavier's attention on the broken radio was diverted when a military vehicle pulled up in front of their house. His breathe caught in his throat when two men in uniform stepped out.

"Xavier?" Olivia had noticed her brother's change in demeanor. He did not respond to her so she got up to look outside too. She gasped when she saw the two men walk towards their front door. Xavier distantly thought about how neither man was his brother while he sat frozen.

Olivia was the first to move, rushing to the attic door and pushing the stairs down. She was already half way down the steps once Xavier's body finally reacted and he rushed after her.

They both reached the top of the stairs when the doorbell rang. They looked at the front door from where they stood but neither made a move towards it. They heard their mother's footsteps approach from the kitchen. Once she was within view, she opened the door, oblivious to her children's presence.

Xavier felt like he wasn't truly present, watching the soldiers speak to his mother. He was distantly aware of them removing their hats, offering condolences, and his mother falling to the ground as a soul-shattering shriek passed her lips. He had never heard such a noise, let alone from his mother. If he didn't feel numb he would have felt disturbed by it. He was distantly aware of his father's pounding footsteps running through the house at the noise, coming to an abrupt stop at the sight of the men on his doorstep and his wife on the ground, weeping. Xavier hardly even realized that his father had attempted to strike one of the soldiers in his grief but was restrained by the other who was offering soothing words of apology to the howling man.

Xavier experienced all of this through a haze, unaware of his own body. The only thing that truly broke through the fog was his sister wrapping her arms around him. He blinked when he felt her hand on his cheek, turning his head towards her. Tears were streaming down her face which made him aware of the wetness on his own. A small sob broke from Olivia's throat, lost to the sounds of their parents loud shouts and cries.

Another small sob reached his ears, this time coming from his own throat.

"B-b-b-but he prrrrromissssed." Speaking had never been so hard. What was already a struggle was made worse by the constricting feeling in his throat. "He pr-pr-promised."

"I know, Xavier. I know," said Olivia, with a shaking but soothing voice. Her bottom lip wobbled and more tears ran down her face.

Xavier heard himself sniffle and more sobs were wrenched from him. "He promised. He promised. He promised he'd k-k-k-come home. He-" Xavier choked off at the end and threw himself into Olivia's arms, clutching onto her dress desperately, shaking. Olivia returned his bruising embrace, running one of her hands through his hair.

Please, thought Xavier. Please don't do this. Please God, don't take my brother away. I need him.

Xavier received no response. The only response he got was the continued screams and cries of pain for the lose of a son and brother.

Notes:

Here is the approximate age of Vox and his siblings in this chapter. The ending is about 6 months after the start:

Vox/Xavier - DOB: 1905 (1917-1918: approximately 12-13)
Olivia - DOB: 1902 (1917-1918: approximately 15-16)
Victor - DOB: 1899 (1917-1918: 18; as stated in the chapter he recently turned 18)

I'll try and respond to all comments I haven't gotten to yet later tonight or tomorrow at the latest. I don't really have too many other comments for this chapter currently. I hope to not take too long posting the next chapter but this coming work week I'll be on-call so chances are I might not have a lot of energy. We'll see how much I feel up to writing after work. Hopefully I'll be able to update the next chapter by next weekend.

Stay tuned for chapter 7!

Chapter 7: An Unexpected Guest

Summary:

Alastor wrestles with his possible fate. Vox wrestles with Valentino's decisions and how that could affect the Vee's.

Notes:

I know it's been a while since I posted last. Sorry for that. Even if it takes me a little while to write a new chapter, I don't have any intention of abandoning this story. I would like to keep writing.

I would like to say, I have modified who can and can't post comments. Guests are no longer able to comment but registered users can. I honestly didn't know that I could limit who could and couldn't post until very recently. I'm sorry if people are disappointed. Also, I'm likely not going to respond to people's comments as much anymore. I think it's what's best for me personally. I'll try and address overall comments that I receive in author's notes but that'll probably be it.

I do still appreciate everyone's continued support though. Thank you!

I don't think there's much of a trigger warning for this chapter. There's talk of Alastor's injury and discussion of his possible fate but that's it. Nothing graphic.

The pain was unbearable.

For weeks, Alastor's world had been consumed by the pain across his torso. A hot burning sensation permeated from the wound, spreading across his body. It was the poison that coursed through his veins, impossible to get rid of. Even now, the poison flowed through his blood, but at a far more subdued rate. The pain felt reminiscent of the first couple of days immediately after the extermination, an ever present ache but one that was tolerable.

If Alastor thought too long on the poison still in him he thought he could feel the slow crawl the deadly substance was taking. He knew that was impossible and all in his mind but he could not shake the feeling.

He'd been informed by Charlie that supposedly he was not cured, only given more time, and that the poison was not gone. How foolish, of course the poison was not gone. His wound had not healed even in the slightest, days after the ritual. The yellow pus that had been purged from his system had returned, seeping from the edges of the gaping wound.

Against his will, multiple times a day his bandages were changed. Now that the other occupants of the hotel were fully aware of his condition they would not allow him to sulk in his room, tending to his injury on his own. A distant part of himself was grateful for this, no longer having to suffer alone. Allowing the others to aid him meant he was able to preserve some of his own energy and not waste it needlessly.

A much larger part of himself sneered at the blatant display of weakness he was showing the other pathetic Sinners. How dare they look at him while he was hurt. How dare they even think to touch him with their grimy hands. How dare they speak to him of the necessity of asking for and accepting help.

Alastor bristled even more as he adjusted himself in his bed to get comfortable, causing the skin of his forearm to pull tight and shoot pain up his arm. It was a reminder of Vox's part in his current condition.

His shadow screeched at the feeling, being connected to everything that Alastor felt. A faint growl emanated from it as it too was annoyed by the thought of Vox.

"Now, now," he said. "Who's the one that allowed him to cut into my skin?"

The shadow growled some more. The familiar sensation of a voice inside Alastor's head could be heard.

'You were going to die. There was no other choice.'

Alastor scowled. "That's no excuse for allowing him to do what he did."

'You were stubborn. You wouldn't consider allowing the other pathetic Sinners to help. The Mistress would have been displeased if you perished.'

Alastor whipped his head away at the reminder of his Master. At the mention of her he could feel a faint tug at the invisible leash at his neck. She was displeased with him. And his leech wished to make it known.

"Yes well, he made me better, how lovely. It'll all be for naught in the end unless if she decides to actually HELP me," said Alastor through gritted teeth.

'You dare to demand anything from her?' hissed the shadow.

"I DARE to ask why she does nothing for me while I clearly waste away. If she doesn't want me to die then she should do something!" he cried with an edge of desperation entering his voice against his will.

The shadow glared at him, simmering in the darkness in displeasure. After a long staring match the shadow spoke. 'She cannot interfere in this...disease. It is outside of her influence.'

"What?" he asked in stunned disbelief.

'The poison is HIS creation. Something from His Grace. She cannot prevent its expansion.'

No. No this can't be happening. He was promised protection. He was promised survival if he pledged his allegiance to her. He was given immunity against anything that could harm him.

But was that true, said his own voice at the back of his mind. He had already expired once despite her power.

"Why didn't you tell me this sooner?" he snarled at his shadow. "I thought she was only punishing me for my failure against Adam. Why didn't you tell me that I was going to perish because of the damn angelic poison??"

The shadow withered in agitation. 'It's not your place to question her.'

"It is when it deals with my life. I promised my soul to her. It's her responsibility to protect it, as was our deal. If any of the magic that she offers wasn't going to heal me then I should have been informed of this. Because then I could have sought out other means of aid," spit out Alastor in a rage. At the end of his tangent he felt himself breathless in his weakened state. He slumped back in his bed, tired.

As he caught his breath the shadow stared at him, unmoving. It was not often that his shadow was so silent while making itself known to him. It was clear to him it was communicating with their Master, receiving instructions.

'There is a way.' It said. 'A way to prevent your demise.'

Alastor remained silent, still panting from his overexertion.

'The Abomination offers a solution.'

Charlie. It was referring to her and her proposition of obtaining the cure to the poison from Heaven.

Alastor gasped out, "It would actually work then? I wouldn't immediately combust from it mixing with her essence inside me?"

He was skeptical that such a thing would work when Charlie suggested it to him after he awoke. He doubted that anything from Heaven, even if it was proposed as a cure, would mix well with his blood which had been so stained by rot from such an early age.

'It is the only solution.'

He sat back with a grunt. The only solution that was out of his reach. Heaven had refused to accept any of Lucifer's attempts at communication since the extermination. No matter what he said or how he asked it, Heaven was a brick wall that refused to acknowledge Hell or Lucifer's existence.

While Alastor would usually find such a prospect humorous since it grated at the King's pride, it was now a concerning fact since it meant that Alastor would likely die. If they couldn't even get Heaven to speak with them, Alastor was doomed.

"How long do I have left?" asked Alastor in resignation.

'Weeks.'

Alastor looked to the ceiling, refusing to look towards his shadow. He knew that it could feel everything he felt but he wanted to try and create the illusion of it not existing in his periphery. He had weeks left to live. That was it.

A slow creepy feeling of dread built within him, creating a suffocating feeling within his chest. His breathe increased in rapid succession and sweat began to bead at his forehead. A ringing noise began to increase in frequency in his ears, drowning out the muted noises of the hotel. For so long, despite the stifling constraints of his deal, he had felt invincible. He felt untouchable. And yet here he faced the very real possibility of his end. It was a feeling he was unfamiliar with until the extermination when Adam struck him.

'There still is a chance of your survival,' his shadow softly said. It jarred him out of his spiral. It was an uncharacteristic display of tenderness. 'The Abomination could still find a way to break through Heaven's stalemate. She is...rather stubborn and enthusiastic.'

Alastor felt a maniacal laugh burst from him. He brought a shaking hand to his head, running it through his sweaty hair. "That she is," he said with a whisper.

There was no response from the shadow which seemed to dissolve into the darkness. It was clear it had nothing left to say, choosing to leave Alastor to his thoughts.

With great difficulty he pushed himself up and into a full sitting position. His nerves were shot but he could not abide by laying in his bed any longer. With great difficulty he pulled his button-up shirt on, tucking it into his pants. He wished to pull on his vest, jacket, and bowtie but he could not fathom the energy or pain that would cause. He accepted the shirt as his only armor.

He looked down at his bare feet and realized the huge effort it would take to put on socks or shoes. He looked towards the window and saw the late hour. It was unlikely anyone was awake and decided to hazard the lost dignity that going barefoot would force upon him.

He took a big breathe as he heaved himself out of his bed, stumbling and only just catching himself on his nightstand. Gasping deep breathes he held himself upright with a shaking arm against the table. Once he caught his breathe he slowly stood upright. With shaky steps he made his way towards the door.

Each step was an effort but he felt like he was gaining slight strength as he stretched his stiff legs. He huffed as he pushed the door open and made his way down the hall.

Breathing had never been so hard before in his life or afterlife. It was easy to get by with the power that usually coursed through his veins but with that force muted it was a struggle.

Eventually he made his way downstairs, to the landing above the foyer. Voices reached his ears which halted his descent.

"I can't believe this! Heaven still won't talk to you?" That was Charlie's voice, crying out in anger.

"No they won't." And that was the King's. Alastor felt his smile strain at hearing the insufferable angel's voice. Being anywhere near the man made his skin crawl unpleasantly. "And it's not exactly like they are all of a sudden going to start talking to me now, weeks after the extermination."

"Yes but did you actually tell them why you need to talk to them? You didn't just say you wanted to talk? You told them we needed the antidote to their poison, right?" There was a slight accusatory note in her tone of voice. Perhaps not all was forgiven on Lucifer's part from the years of neglect and heartache.

"Yes, Char-Char. I did," he said with a sad sigh.

"Are you sure? Because I know it's not like you care for Alastor, or even like him, and this is really important, dad. He could die and-"

"Yes Charlie!" interrupted Lucifer with desperation. "I'm not lying to you about that!"

There was a pause. Once the voices continued they were muted. Alastor strained his ears to listen.

"I'm sorry dad. That was uncalled for. I know you're trying to help and Heaven is just being stubborn."

"It's alright," replied the King sadly. More silence.

"Look, we've all had a rough couple of days, weeks really." And there was Vaggie. How annoying. Here they were, talking about him behind his back in the dead of night, two fallen angels. Alastor stomped down on the urge to let the ever present radio static at the back of his mind increase in frequency and disrupt the air. They acted as if he was a weak pathetic thing.

'Well aren't you?' Whispered his shadow.

Alastor gave a low snarl to the darkness in the hallway. He did not see any movement but knew it was there. "I thought you decided to kindly fuck off," he spat. No response. Alastor hated that it was always there, always watching. Just because it did not respond or make itself known did not mean it wasn't there. Alastor so often found himself willfully fooling himself into thinking he was blissfully alone. But it so often shattered that illusion when Alastor least wanted it to.

Vaggie continued speaking downstairs so Alastor diverted his attention away from the dark but instead pulled it around him so he could wonder around the corner and see those below without being spotted. "Maybe it's time for us to go to bed and try to get some rest."

The only people in the lobby area were Charlie, Lucifer, and Vaggie. It seemed that everyone else was either in bed or out doing who knows what.

"But Vaggie, we can't sleep now. We only have so much time left. Alastor only has so much time left. We have to think of something!" cried Charlie.

"Yeah but your dad is right. Heaven isn't going to all of a sudden decide to start taking his calls just because we need the antidote. If anything that'll be even more reason for them not to talk to us. The poison was intended to be used on Sinners, after all." Hints of guilt and sadness were laced through her ending statement. Good. She and her entourage of exterminators were the reason he was in this predicament.

"So what? We're just supposed to give up?" Charlie asked incredulously.

"Vaggie didn't say that." Lucifer stepped towards his daughter and placed a comforting hand on her back. "Just it's late and we're all exhausted. I know you've been working nonstop trying to help Alastor. And that's...great." Alastor thought he could do with putting a little more effort into at least faking that sentiment. Charlie's furrowed eyebrows indicated she thought the same thing. "But you can't run yourself ragged. You won't do anyone any good by doing that."

Charlie huffed in agitation. "I'm find dad. Really. It's not like I'm the one that's at deaths door."

Alastor scrunched up his nose in annoyance. He wanted to go down there and show them how wrong they were. He wanted to tear apart this newly rebuilt hotel. He wanted to fling them about and sink his teeth into their flesh, ripping them apart and showing them just how not-weak he was.

Cold fingers ghosted across his chest purposefully. Alastor froze but refused to look down at the dark tendrils circling around him. He felt his anger subside slowly at the reminder of his injury. Again, the shadow was great at shattering the illusions he wove for himself.

He watched as Charlie spoke further with her father and girlfriend, the two attempting to provide her with as much comfort as possible in the face of her failure. Her sorrow felt like a palpable thing. So worried was she at another's own misery. It was...curious. So rarely had anyone directed such feelings towards him.

A flash of his mother's face entered his mind. He quickly pushed it out, refusing to allow that despair to take root. Her face wasn't the only one that crossed his mind, however. He thought of Rosie too. One of his oldest friends who always was willing to lend an ear and been there for him since his earliest days in Hell. Their connection was almost instantaneous. It was surprisingly uncomplicated, especially for two Overlords.

Which led his thoughts to Vox. A low hiss that could only be heard by him entered his ears. The shadow crawled its many unnatural fingers across his shoulders, slowly inching towards his neck. He couldn't stop himself from gulping at the motion.

'He was never anything more than a pathetic nuisance. Any care he tried to show to you wasn't real. It was a falsehood that he's an expert at crafting, just like all others in his craft. He's a liesmith.'

Alastor scowled. He thought of the other Overlord with a beaming smile on his face, directed towards him. It was such an easy thing to pull from the ridiculous television. Or at least it felt like to him. Alastor knew the other man was a good actor but to put up such a front for so many years would be quite the feat.

He then remembered those later years. The heated debates turned argument. The scowls and frowns. The disapproving looks he received from the other for one reason or another. There was a time it seemed that he could do no wrong in the Media Demons eyes. Clearly that charade became too difficult to maintain over time.

As he said, his shadow was very good at helping him shatter any sort of illusions he tried to create.

His attention was abruptly drawn towards the lobby when he heard Charlie cry out.

"Oh my God! Oh my GOD!" She was staring wide-eyed towards her phone.

"What? What is it? You don't mean literally God, right??" Lucifer looked frantic and panicked.

Charlie's stricken face turned to excitement, laughing and ignoring her father's wild-eyed look. She turned to the other two. "This is it! This might work!"

"Babe, you need to talk to us. What will?" asked Vaggie.

"Look!" she shoved her phone in their faces. "This could be it! This could be what gets Heaven to talk to us again!"

"Holy shit," said Lucifer and Vaggie in unison.

"No fucking way," said Vaggie in shock.

"How is this possible?" asked Lucifer who was staring slack-jawed at the phone.

"I don't know!" shouted Charlie with a blinding smile. "But Heaven's gotta talk to you now, right dad?"

He slowly nodded and brought a hand to his head in surprise. "Yeah. Yeah they just might."

'See. What did I tell you,' whispered the shadow. 'Your survival just might be within arms reach.'

_____________

Vox absentmindedly pulled the collar of his shirt, attempting to alleviate the discomfort from it rubbing against his neck. The bruise and pain had mostly faded by now, days later, but the discomfort still lingered. His nerves were run ragged from the cloth of his shirt rubbing against his neck, a constant reminder of the trauma to his throat, past and present.

Despite wanting to unbutton the top buttons of his shirt within the privacy of his office he refused to give in for fear of being caught once again. Vox would be lying if he said Valentino strangling him days prior was the only thing that made him feel like a string rung taught, ready to snap at a moments notice. Being caught dumpster diving, by Husk and Angel Dust no less, with the ghost of Valentino's hand lingering on his neck for all to see shook him more than he would like to admit. Usually he was far better at hididng any injuries from others but he'd been having such a shit couple of days ever since that damn meeting with the Princess. He wasn't on his game.

Vox could still remember the look on Angel's face as he stared entranced at his neck with both types of shame shining like a beacon, red and blue creating such a stark contrast against his dark skin. Vox winced when he pulled a little too hard at his collar while he was distracted by the memory, causing a stab of pain to shoot through his neck while his shirt pulled at the bruise. He forced his hand down from his collar.

Thankfully the past couple of days have been without any significant sort of incident. He had his sushi and trashy TV night with Velvette, finally having a much needed night of relaxation with the other Vee. She was able to put him at ease and make him actually laugh at the ridiculous antics of the people on the shit reality show they were watching. The only reason why he still funded such an atrocious show was because of the enjoyment he and Velvette got from watching the cast cause chaos and backstab each other, sometimes literally, while they got drunk and badmouthed those on screen.

Valentino had been mostly busy with his work during the day and nights of debauchery with his whores. It was a nice break, even if the knowledge that Valentino was out having sex with who knew who further grated on the back of his mind, however far back it may be.

And the Princess had actually left him alone after he kept his side of the bargain. The last he heard or saw from her motley crew was when Husk and Angel Dust stumbled across him. While he would have preferred not being seen in such a compromising situation, he was immensely grateful to Husk for returning his bullet which felt like lead weight in his pocket.

It brought him equal parts comfort and distress having it back. It lead his wondering mind towards thoughts of Alastor, as it so often did when left unchecked. Was it any wonder he was such a workaholic? If he didn't keep busy his mind drifted to so much unpleasantness that he would rather avoid. That's why he was in his office now, at such a late hour, when most were either asleep or partying.

He wondered if the Princess had managed to get in contact with Heaven yet. Not likely. If they hadn't accepted her invitation at communication over the past month they wouldn't now without any incentive. If they had, then that meant things had changed on Heaven's part and it certainly wouldn't be in Hell's benefit. Not after the disasterous extermination. Which meant that Alastor's condition was likely deteriorating again. Vox's cut forearm itched at the thought.

Vox made himself focus on the screen in front of him before his mind could continue down that line of thinking.

A couple minutes passed by while he worked before his phone buzzed with a notification. He would have chose to ignore it but he saw it was from Valentino. He reached for his phone and opened the text. He saw it was to both himself and Velvette.

VAL:
I've got something to show you two. You're going to loose your minds!

VEL:
I swear to everything unholy, Val. If it's another sex tape of yours I'm going to loose more than my mind and you're not going to like it.

VAL:
Relax, babydoll. It's nothing like that. This is something BIG. And that's not an innuendo. Although I AM big. Just ask Voxxy.

VEL:
Gag!

VEL:
And I don't know how many times I have to tell you not to call me that, mothballs!

VOX:
Please stop traumatizing and antagonizing our business partner, Val. We need her.

VAL:
Oh fine. You two are no fun. Just meet at my apartment. You WON'T be disapointed. XOXO

Vox's eyebrows furrowed. He wondered what that was about and hoped it wasn't anything bad. With Valentino there was no telling what it could be. He told himself it couldn't be anything too bad for him, otherwise Velvette wouldn't also be involved. Valentino also seemed happy. That usually boded well for everyone in the surrounding vicinity. Yet he still felt anxious. He gulped and against his will he pulled at his collar again due to the unpleasant feeling the motion caused.

He got up from his desk and exited his offfice, making his way towards the elevator. He could zap his way through the cameras, making the trek quicker, but like he so often preferred when it came to dealing with Valentino, he wished to prolong the inevitable. Besides, he wished to arrive at Valentino's apartment with Velvette. It was best to face whatever 'surprise' Valentino had in store for them together. And Velvette's work station was on the way to Val's apartment. He knew she was also working late, like she so often was. She unfortunately learned too much from him.

Once the elevator doors opened to Velvette's floor, she was waiting with her phone in hand that she typed away at. She did not look up as she stepped inside.

"What do you suppose this is about?" she said as way of acknowledging Vox while still typing.

He shrugged. "I haven't the faintest idea."

"I wasn't lying when I said if it's another sex tape of him I'll lose my shit. I've walked in on him fucking and being fucked far too many times for my liking. I don't want to see any of his scripted performances." A visible shudder traveled down her spine at the thought.

Vox didn't think too long on that, knowing that he was one of those people she'd walked in on with Valentino. And unbeknownst to her, or rather with much convincing from him, not every time she had seen them was something that he found...pleasurable.

He cleared his throat and adjusted his tie to cover up any discomfort. "Yes well, I think he was being honest when he said it wasn't that."

She turned her head to him with an annoyed expression. "Then what is it? I know he fucks around all day, literally, but some of us actually have work to do."

"Don't I know it," he grumbled. "But you know that it's best to just get this over with so we can get back to work. Otherwise he'll be in a pissy mood the rest of the night and tomorrow if we don't come see whatever the Hell it is he wants to show us. And then he'll just slow down productivity for both of us even more."

Velvette rolled her eyes before looking at her phone again with a groan. "Literal definition of a fucking man-child, I swear to God."

Vox couldn't help but give a small snicker in silent agreement.

Soon enough they arrived at Valentino's personal floor. The sounds of laughter and music reached their ears when the doors opened. Pink smoke lingered in the air, making Velvette wave her hand to disperse it from her face. The two of them stepped out in unison onto the floor and turned their heads towards the voice of their business partner.

Valentino was sitting on the couch in the middle of the room, leaning back as he laughed with a drink in one hand and a cigarette in another. Across from him sat another demon with horns protruding from his head who also was laughing. For a split second Vox thought it to be an imp but saw no black and white alternating coloring. The demons skin also wasn't the distinct red coloring but rather was pitch black like Vox's. He had two large ears, remniscent of a goat. He was a Sinner, rather than a Hellborn.

As Vox and Velvette walked towards the pair he notice a patch of long hair on the Sinners chin, giving him the distinct look of being a billy goat. Vox looked at his hands and feet and noticed the lack of any hoofs. As far as Sinners went, the man seemed awfully lucky with his more human like appearance. Vox felt a small pang of jealousy but he forgot it quickly as a sense of familiarity washed over him.

"Voxxy! Babydoll!" cried Valentino once his laughter subsided enough that he noticed the two newcomers. "Finally you've arrived! We've been waiting for you! Come quick, I'd love to introduce you to my newest friend."

The Sinners laughter died down as well but a wide grin still lingered. He turned in his seat to better look at Vox and Velvette. Once the Sinner fully turned to face them that's when it hit Vox.

The Sinners animalistic features were rather surface level, meaning he retained most of his human form. If anything, the horns made the resemblance to his former self even stronger for it was such a prominent part of his old uniform. The main difference was his ears, much darker skin, and red irises where it once was yellow. Otherwise he looked much the same as he had when Vox watched him on screen, moments before his demise.

"What's up losers! Come to party?"

His voice was even the same.

"No fucking way," said Velvette softly, voicing Vox's thoughts. The two of them were frozen to the spot.

The Sinner laughed. "Ha! Look at their faces! Looks like they just shit their own pants!"

Valentino laughed as well. "Indeed it does. I mean can you blame them? It is a rather shocking development."

The Sinner scoffed as he leaned forward, filling up his glass with more alcohol before leaning back in his seat, looking right at home. "Like that tiny little freak could put an end to me. I'm Adam, baby! I'm the fucking first man!"

Adam. That Adam. THE Adam. He was sitting in Valentino's living room. Drinking Valentino's booze. Laughing with Valentino. Adam. The Exorcist.

Who was a FUCKING demon now!

"But-but howxxx?" cried Vox as his screen glitched. "You died!"

"Pssh. It was merely a flesh wound, baby. Nothing to sweat about," said Adam who gave Vox a lazy smile.

Part of Vox's mind tripped up on the phrase, absentmindedly wondering if he was making a deliberate movie reference or was truly that arrogant.

"Fuck no it wasn't a flesh wound," shouted Velvette who pointed a finger at him. "You died! They had your body. You were stabbed to death!"

Adam's smile disappeared as he scowled at the comment. He tipped back his drink, chugging it in one go. "Yeah well I got better."

Velvette shook her head back and forth frantically. "No. Nope. Nuh uh. You don't get better from that shit. Not possible. Try again."

"Come now Adam," said Valentino with a wide smile. "Go ahead and tell them. It's not like they're not going to find out."

Adam rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. "Fine. Whatever. I died and came back as a Sinner. Happy now?!" He slammed his empty glass down on the table in front of him. Valentino narrowed his eyes at the other due to the motion but didn't comment. Adam poured more alcohol in his drink and took a big sip as he still wore an angry scowl.

"You came...back?" asked Vox, slowly.

Adam huffed. "Yeah. And as a Sinner too. What the fuck is up with that? Why would I come back as a Sinner? All I was doing was God's work, sanctioned by the Seraphim, to kill dirty Sinners." He paused and looked at Valentino. "No offense."

Valentino gave a small chuckle and raised one hand as he shrugged. "None taken."

"Uhh, offense taken!" yelled Velvette. "The fuck Valentino! This is Adam we're talking about! He's killed more Sinners then you, Vox, and I combined!"

"Guilty!" Adam said with an uproarious laugh.

"Yeah, I know," said Valentino. "Isn't it great?"

Before Velvette could keep yelling Vox felt himself snap out of his stupor. He needed to do damage control. "Vee’s emergency meeting. Now." He looked at Adam and gave his best disarming smile. "If you'll excuse us."

He grabbed Velvette's wrist who let him lead her away without complaint. Valentino was the one who cried out in indignation as Vox grabbed one of his wrists too and drug him off the couch. Once the three were by the floor-to-ceiling windows he let them go. He judged it a safe enough distance to have a whispered meeting while still being able to keep an eye on one of the most dangerous souls to have ever existed.

Vox whipped around to the other two and pointed a finger at Valentino, feeling his left eye twirl in agitation. "Explain. Now."

Valentino paused as he was running a hand down his arms to try and put himself straight. He narrowed his eyes at Vox. He knew that that would likely come to bite him in the ass later but the nervous energy coursing through his veins was too much for him to pay Valentino’s ire any mind. He needed answers.

Valentino crossed his lower set of arms and took an inhale of his cigarette which he let out right into Vox's face. "Really, hermosa. You need to relax. Both of you."

"Relax?" whisper yelled Velvette. "How can we relax when the head of the exterminators is sitting right there?!"

"Yes well he's not an exterminator anymore, now is he?" Valentino said. "He's a Sinner. Just like you and me."

"Who clearly still thinks badly about Sinners, Val. 'Dirty Sinners'?" Vox said, pointedly.

Valentino scoffed. "Oh please. Don't try and act all high and mighty on behalf of all the dead Sinners. It's not like anyone likes other Sinners. Not even Sinners. They're all expendable workers, assholes, and whores."

Velvette slapped a hand against her forehead. "Oh my God, Val. How are you not getting this through your thick skull and into your tiny pea-brained mind. We're Sinners! He HATES Sinners! He could kill us!"

"Seriously?" said Valentino. "What happened to you being all for fighting the exterminators?"

"This is different," said Velvette. "This is inviting a fucking venomous snake into your own home and hoping it won't bite you."

"Oh please. We're three Overlords. I'm sure we could take him if we really needed to," said Valentino. His face then morphed into a lecherous grin as he bent down toward Velvette. "And I mean that both literally and in other ways too, babydoll."

Velvette shoved him away with a growl.

"Val," Vox said, drawing the moth's attention. "Velvette's right. This is incredibly stupid and risky. Why even bring him here? Where did you even find him?"

"I found him outside of one of my clubs tonight. He absolutely destroyed a couple of Sinners with his bare hands," Valentino said.

"Uhhh, so you decided to bring him home?" Velvette raised one hand in annoyed confusion.

Valentino huffed in annoyance. "Yes. I brought him home. Because while he ripped those Sinners apart, no problem, it was obvious to me that he doesn't have anywhere near the same amount of power he had as an angel. The dude's weak. Any one of us could take him on by ourselves without issue. I'm not a fucking idiot."

"You could have fooled me," said Velvette with crossed arms. Valentino growled at her and got into her face.

"Oh fuck you! If the two of you would look past your fear for one second you'd be able to see what a perfect opportunity just landed in our laps," he said as he jabbed Velvette's chest. She slapped his hand away.

"What opportunity?" asked Vox, attempting to prevent the two from dissolving into a full on fight and actually progressing this conversation.

Valentino smiled at Vox's question, running a hand down the side of his screen. "There's my darling opportunistic lover. I knew I'd be able to entice you with a lucritive buisness deal."

Vox internally disagreed but chose not to voice his thoughts. "Well go on. Tell us what sort of brilliant scheme you've come up with."

"Isn't it obvious? It's Adam. There's so many possibilities available to use by having him in our pocket. While he's weaker than he was before, he's by no means actually a weakling. With a couple of souls in him I'm sure we could get him right back to his power level from before."

"Why would we want that?" asked Velvette. "If he's weak now then we should kill him a third and final time."

"And miss the opportunity to team up with such a powerful being? We could do SO much with his power if we become allies with him. We could rule the whole fucking Pride Ring!" Valentino's excitement was plain to see as he shook the other two. They both remained skeptical, however, and didn't share in his enthusiasm.

"Besides," Valentino continued. "What makes you think we could even actually kill him?"

"Give me some angelic steal and I'll take care of it," said Velvette with a bloodthirsty smile.

"You sure about that?" said Valentino.

"I can fucking handle myself, thank you very much!" said Velvette in offense.

"Wait," said Vox. Could they kill him? "Maybe Valentino is right."

Velvette looked offended even more but Vox ignored her. So much about this situation was new and unknown. Adam used to be a human soul and he died. Just like everyone, he had been judged by God or some unknownable force or whatever the fuck it is that determines if a soul goes to Heaven or Hell. He went to Heaven and lived his second life there. And then he died for a second time as an angel, which until very recently, was assumed to be impossible.

As far as anyone knew, only one angel had ever died in all of existence until the last extermination. And the first was a different exorcist. So little is still known about the exorcists to include if they were Heavenborn or former humans. Nobody knew what happened when Hellborn died, and presumably Heavenborn if it was even possible. But everyone assumed that when a human soul died for a second time that was it. Countless Sinners had died in the exterminations. Along with by other Sinners hands using angelic weapons. When they died that was the end of the line. Or so everyone thought.

Was there a possiblity that something happens to those souls when they die a second time? Are they judged a second time? If they're judged a second time, what happens? So many Sinners have died but they don't show back up in Hell. And Vox seriously doubted that any would have gone to Heaven otherwise they would have heard about that, right? Otherwise Heaven wouldn't have been so against Charlie's redemption scheme.

But while there have been so many Sinners that have died, the only angels to have died have been in the last extermination and that first in the previous one. And one of them has shown up in Hell, reborn as a Sinner. Are angels judged a second time too when they die? Is that why Adam has shown up here? He was deemed changed and not for the better, so he ended up in Hell. Was that it? If the soul was judged to have changed then they go to the opposite place then where they were from? Changed human souls from Heaven go to Hell and changed human souls from Hell go to Heaven?

Vox felt stricken. Surely that couldn't be possible. Was...was the Princess's ideas of redemption...possible?

No. Surely not. Adam was different. He was an angel who had died so him getting a third chance at life felt possible. Maybe only human souls from Heaven are judged a second time. But then what of the other exorcists who died? Perhaps the other exorcists were indeed Heavenborn so whatever happened to them was the same thing that happens to the Hellborn who die. Which is who fucking knows what. Or maybe when they were judged a second time their souls were determined to be unchanged?

They were exorcists, Vox thought. Surely that would be something that is deserving to go to Hell for. Yeah right, he bitterly thought further. Because the grounds by which everyone is judged made sense and was fair.

No. Redemption wasn't possible because the rules by which people were judged were arbitrary and meaningless. But even then, did that mean a human soul from Hell couldn't go to Heaven if they died for a second time? If so, why had they never heard of this from Heaven?

All the questions and possibilities swirled around in his head. All of it was mere speculation and conjecture. The only thing that was for certain was that Adam had been reborn as a Sinner in Hell after dying for a second time. Something that until now was believed to be impossible. Who's to say that trying to kill him a third time would even work or he wouldn’t come back again. And the next time with a grudge against the Vee's for killing him.

"What do you mean Valentino is right?" asked Velvette, breaking him from his spiral.

"I mean, this is uncharted territory." Vox put a hand to his screen, feeling a headache coming on. "A former human soul coming back for a third time? As far as everyone knows that's not possible. And yet here Adam is, a Sinner. His third chance at life. How the fuck did that happen? Is there something else at play here? Is it because he's the first man and that affords him some special treatment, I don't know Vel. All I know is that the last time someone stabbed him with an angelic weapon it apparantly didn't stick. Who's to say it will if we did it again?"

Velvette dropped her arms in realization. "And if he did, he'd be fucking pissed and out for our blood."

"Exactly," said Vox.

"Now you're guys are finally up to speed," said Valentino as he puffed out a ring of smoke from his cigarrette.

There was a long pause as they all contemplated their next move.

"Fine," Velvette said finally. "We can't kill him. But why would you bring him back here?"

"And what, leave him on the streets to cause chaos and let some other Overlord or powerful demon find him to use for their own plans?" said Valentino with a sneer. "That's just what we need. That bitch Carmine to find him and use his power to kill us all."

"Carmilla would never team up with Adam," said Vox.

Valentino threw his arms up in exasperation. "Fuck! Then Zeezi, or the Von Edlritch family, I don't know. Who fucking cares! The point being it's best if we jump on this chance first before anyone else does and wind up dead due to a vengeful former exorcist goes on a rampage through Hell."

"Whose to say we won't still wind up dead because you brought said vengeful former exorcist into our home?" asked Velvette, accussingly.

"Well then we better do our best at playing nice and making friends with him. I'm sure it won't be hard for you at all, darling. He will absoluetely love you." Valentino gave a too wide and suggestive grin as he leaned towards her. She shoved his face away in anger and disgust.

"Hey losers! You done talking about me? I need some more booze!" shouted Adam who raised the alcohol bottle above his head and shook it to indicate it was empty.

"Not a problem, amigo. We've got plenty more where that came from," said Valentino who sauntered over towards Adam.

Vox and Velvette watched as Valentino walked away and rejoined Adam. The two smiled and laughed, looking as if they were having the time of their afterlives.

Without turning to Vox, Velvette sighed. "This isn't going to end well, is it?"

"I don't know," he said.

"Fuck that. You know this is going to end badly. Don't deny it," she said, turning her head to him with a scowl.

"There's so much we can't be sure of. Nothing's certain," he said in a desperate attempt to convince her, and himself.

"Vox," she said, drawing his attention. "This is bad. I know it. You know it. I think even Valentino knows it somewhere deep down. What the fuck are we going to do?"

Vox ran a hand down his face, groaning. He knew Velvette was right but with some many unknowns the risk was far too high and the benefits did not outweigh them. But Adam was now in their damn home and it was too late to back out now. What could they do?

A thought struck him. Incentive. That's what Heaven needed to talk with Charlie. Would they be willing to talk to her if Hell had one of their best exorcists? Would they be willing to accept a trade? The first man for an antidote?

It would solve so many problems. Adam would get out of their house. And Alastor would be cured. But would Heaven even want Adam back if he was now a Sinner? Perhaps not. But at the very least this development seemed like a good way to at least open up communication. And maybe they could offer a solution to get ride of Adam. Or provide answers at least.

Vox pulled out his phone and took a photograph of Adam where he sat drinking more alcohol with Valentino.

"What are you doing?" asked Velvette.

"Taking a photo of our guest."

"Why? Are you sending that to someone? Who!?" she whisper yelled at him. "Vox, should we really be telling people about Adam right now? That could be a very bad idea!"

"I'm sending it to the Princess," he said.

"What?!" she actually yelled that time. When Valentino and Adam's head turned towards them she lowered her voice and quickly stood in front of Vox to shield their view of him. "Why would you do that? It's not like she and her group of misfits are exactly friends with him."

"Exactly," he said as he typed away at his phone. "They could be possible allies if things go south. Also, they have the closest line of communication to Heaven."

"Hey guys!" shouted Valentino. "Come on! Come have a drink with us!"

"You said that Heaven wasn't talking to them right now," said Velvette, ignoring Valentino.

"Yes but this seems like a pretty good reason for Heaven to start talking to them again, right?" said Vox. He hovered his thumb over the send button.

"Yeah! Let's party!" said Adam. "Although it's not really a party without some bitches. Can we get bitches?"

"Pssh. Of course we can. Who do you think you're talking to?" replied Valentino.

"What the fuck is Heaven going to do?" asked Velvette. "He's a Sinner now. You think they're going to what, take him back? Seriously?" Her eyes were wild, frantic.

"I don't know, Vel!" He finally looked at her, eyes equally wild. "Maybe! At the very least they might start talking to Charlie again."

"So what?" she said.

"So-so maybe-" his screen glitched. "I don't know ok! Isn't that a good thing?"

"Oh man I've never tried any Hell pussy. I bet you got some really nasty bitches down here," said Adam with enthusiasm.

"Oh you have no idea!" Valentino said, matching Adam's tone.

Velvette looked at Vox and he held her gaze. Her distraught expression seemed to slowly fall as realization struck her. He felt a sense of mounting dread at her face, fearing whatever conclusion she had drawn. "Does this have anything to do with the Radio Demon needing a cure?"

How had this girl learned to read him so well in such a short amount of time? He had gone without anyone truly getting to know him for such a long time. The last had ended in disaster and he swore he wouldn't make that same mistake. Was he really so weak that he had allowed her to get so close to him in less than ten years of knowing her?

Vox felt his shoulders slump in defeat. He gulped. "This is our best chance at getting through this without dying. Any other results are inconsequential." Even to his own ears the excuse sounded hollow.

"Vox! Vel! Come on! We're waiting!" yelled Valentino in a sing-songy voice.

Velvette turned towards the other, flipping him off. Valentino laughed at the gesture but continued to give them a scrutinzing look even after Velvette turned back to Vox. He could feel his boyfriends inscrutable gaze but chose to look back at Velvette.

Velvette seemed to come to a decision and nodded. "Fine. Send it."

Vox could feel a sense of relief at her assent. Both looked back down at his phone and read the text.

VOX:
Adam's been brought back as a Sinner. Here's proof. Maybe Heaven will talk to you now.

He hit send.

Notes:

If it's not obvious, the scenes are pretty much happening simultaneously.

I've gotta say, it felt like a struggle writing from Alastor's perspective. I feel like while he's such a prominent character in canon and fanon there's still so much about him that's a mystery. I feel like after writing this chapter I have a better sense for writing him and what I want to do with his character so that's nice. It was a hurdle that needed to be crossed and I'm glad I was finally able to cross it.

As always, I hope you enjoy and stay tuned for the next chapter!

Chapter 8: A Revelation of the Past and Hope for the Future

Summary:

It's 1905. Alastor has a conversation with his mother about his father. In the present he's given a shred of hope.

Notes:

So I've contemplated changing the name of this story to The World we Knew (Over and Over) in reference to the Frank Sinatra song. What do y'all think? I will likely change it by the next time I update. But thought I should notify you all first.

Welp. It's been a while. Sorry. Life happens and all that. Still not wanting to abandon this story. Just a lot has been going on and also this chapter for whatever reason has been hard to write.

Also, thank you for everyone's continued support and kudos and comments! It means a lot!

TW for this chapter: mentions of past rape

1905

Alastor leaned against the wall as he stood outside of a shop. He scanned the surrounding crowd, searching for any familiar yet unfriendly faces. The crowd passed by with little notice of him. He knew that once his mother rejoined him after her business concluded inside, the stares and sneers would be drawn.

He schooled his face into a nonchalant expression, putting on an air of unconcern. He wished to fade into the background, and over the years from his early years of youth he had become good at such a thing. From all appearances he seemed to belong and be a common youth. Which he was, just not necessarily in this neighborhood.

After a couple of minutes a ding could be heard from the shop he leaned against as the door opened. A darker skinned woman exited and almost instantly she drew attention from the surrounding passing crowd. She walked towards Alastor and he felt his hackles rise as he scanned the surrounding area for anyone who might decide they were more bold. No one approached, however, and instead avoided them as if they had the plague.

His mother smiled at him as if she was unaware of the stares and hooked her arm with his as they walked down the street. In her other arm she held several articles of clothing.

"I don't see why we needed to come to this particular tailor for everything we owned," said Alastor with a huff.

"You know that David is an old friend of mine. And he's simply the best tailor in all of New Orleans. I wouldn't dream of going to anyone else," she said.

"You'd think if he was actually your friend he wouldn't charge you an arm and a leg for his services." Alastor sneered. About a block in front of them, he watched a couple pause before abruptly crossing the street to avoid him and his mother.

His mother squeezed his arm gently. "Oh that's just his normal rate, darling. I wouldn't dream of asking him for special treatment just because we've known each other for years."

Alastor rolled his eyes. "Isn't that the point of having friends? You get something out of it?"

"Companionship and good company is enough of a reward for someone's friendship." She looked over at him with a teasing smirk. "You would know that if you actually tried to make some friends."

"I don't need friends, mother. I'm perfectly happy on my own." Alastor rolled his eyes again which earned him a small smack against his chest.

"Don't roll your eyes. You'll get them stuck like that."

Alastor had to forcibly refrain himself from rolling his eyes once more at her ridiculous comment.

"And also," she continued, as they turned a corner. They side-stepped a group of people, some of which glared at them. His mother ignored them and he tried to do the same but he couldn't help the glowering stare he shot at them. "No one should ever be alone, my dear. Everyone deserves to be happy and find someone in this world."

"I already have you, mother. Who else could I need?" he asked.

She gave a sweet laugh at that and looked at him with a contented face. "Oh that's sweet, Alastor. But I'm not going to be around forever. I want to know you'll be happy when I'm gone. That's all any mother wants for their child."

Alastor felt a pang of sadness at such a comment. He didn't want to think of his mother leaving him. "Don't say that, mother. It's not like you're going to die any time soon."

"Oh of course not, dear. I'm going to be around for a long time. You'll get sick of me one day, just you wait." She continued to smile, acting as if their choice in topic wasn't a morbid one.

"Never. I could never get sick of you, mother," said Alastor. His mother's smile widened.

"You're such a sweet boy, you know that Alastor? I don't know what I did to deserve such a darling boy such as you."

Alastor felt warmth at her praise, glowing at her love. It's things like that that he believed he didn't need anyone else. How could he? She was beyond perfect.

As they continued down the street a group of people could be seen in the distance laughing together. Alastor paid them very little mind outside of the distant sounds of their laughter until his mother stopped abruptly. He looked at her in question and saw she was staring at the group with a stricken expression. He looked at them too, this time more closely to determine what had caused such a startled look.

Alastor realized he recognized most of them, an older couple that owned a local grocery store. Alastor and his mother never go to that store no matter what. He remembered trying to go once when he was quite young, looking to buy some groceries for his mother instead of going to one further away. He was driven out within moments by the woman who clutched a broom like a weapon, screaming that his kind wasn't welcome. His ears rung at the memory of her broom striking his head.

There was a woman, about his mother's age, with them, along with her husband. He'd seen the two around town as well and knew the woman to be the daughter of the grocery store owners. He knew they had children of their own for their eldest, who was close to Alastor in age, was one of the neighborhood children who had tormented him from an early age. He remembered breaking the boys nose once with a flower pot who in turn bruised his ribs. That wasn't the first injury the two had inflicted on each other and it wasn't the last. He could see the boy now, standing with his mother and father next to his younger siblings.

While normally the other boy had a knack for knowing when Alastor was close by, he didn't seem to have a clue he was there now. Instead his attention, like the rest of the family, was drawn to a man holding the hand of a young and pregnant woman. Alastor had never seen those two before but once he saw the man's face Alastor felt frozen to the spot as well.

The man had pale skin with light brown hair, almost blonde. His eyes were a bright blue, striking and vibrant even from across the street. It was clear he was related to the shop owners, perhaps their son. What really struck Alastor, however, was his overall face. His nose. His cheekbones. The shape of his eyes and mouth. The dimples at his cheeks when he smiled. His pointed chin. It was a face Alastor recognized. It looked like the one that stared back at Alastor every morning in the mirror.

And then the man turned and he made eye contact with Alastor. The man's face fell and his eye's widened. Alastor heard his mother gasp next to him. He looked at her quickly and saw she held her hand over her mouth. Unshed tears welled in her eyes.

Alastor flipped his head back towards the man to see the entire group was looking at him and his mother with different ranges of disgust and hatred. The man simply looked stricken, while the pregnant woman looked confused. Alastor saw her mouth moved as she looked at the man in question, perhaps asking what the matter was. The old woman quickly grabbed the woman, putting on a obviously false smile and steared her away down the street. The group obediently followed but the man lingered.

His eyes were transfixed on his mother, and hers on him. After a moment, the old shop owner called out to the man, breaking the spell. The man quickly followed his family, disappearing down a different street.

Alastor stared at his mother concerned. After several more moments he raised his other hand to his mother's arm that was interlinked with his. He placed it gently on her hand as he said, "Mother?", startling her. She dropped his arm and looked at him suddenly, as if she had forgotten he was there. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"Oh," she said, clearing her throat. "Why of course I am. Come now, let's go home."

The rest of their walk was in subdued silence. Alastor wanted to question his mothers uncharacteristic mood but he too felt off kilter. Soon enough they got to their small wooden row boat and Alastor took the oars. His mother sat at one end of the boat, staring off absentmindedly through the trees while Alastor rowed them through the bayou towards their home. The safety that the trees afforded them made Alastor comfortable enough to finally break the silence.

"Mother?" he asked tentatively. Once she hummed and looked at him he continued. "Who was that man?"

There was a long pause as she looked at the trees. The only sound that could be heard was the gentle noise of the water as Alastor rowed and the loud noise of the cicadas and other insects. Finally, his mother reached out and laid her hand on one of his. "Stop rowing for a moment."

Without question he obeyed. She closed her eyes and gave a small smile. "I've always just loved the sounds of the cicadas, don't you? It signals the arrival of summer."

Alastor thought about how hot and unpleasant the summer's could get but he didn't disagree. He enjoyed their sound too. They were always so loud out here in the bayou. He fell asleep most nights to their loud and rhythmic song.

His mother opened her eyes and gave a sad smile at the surrounding area. "The cicadas always remind me of home too. Out here in the bayou. I didn't always live out here, you know. I used to live further in the city. But I fell in love with this place, years ago when I was a young woman."

She leaned over the side of the boat and stuck her hand in the water. She didn't linger, however, knowing the dangers that lurked beneath. She let the water trickle down her hand, disturbing the water further.

"I loved the wild nature of it all, untamed and free. It's such a vast space that holds so many secrets. It's held more than a few of mine."

Alastor didn't dare speak and break the spell his mother was under. So rarely did she speak of her life before Alastor.

"I met a young man here, once. When I was just a young woman myself. Barely more than children, truthfully." She laughed. "But I suppose that's how things usually go. The passion and fire that youth brings can burn so bright." Her eyes were sad. "And quickly." She sighed. "And out of control."

She looked at Alastor. He gulped, having an idea as to where this was going. "I fell in love," she said. "Oh I fell in love with him so fast. Our relationship was only possible because of the safety of these trees. It's so easy to get lost out here and never be found. And that's what we wanted."

She was of course talking about Alastor's father. Why else would they want to keep their love secret than if it was between a black woman and a white man?

"That was him? Wasn't it?" Alastor's voice was barely more than a whisper.

His mother nodded. "Yes, Alastor. That man was your father."

It was Alastor's turn to look away. He knew it was true but after all these years coming face-to-face with his absent father was a shock. His mother had never told him anything about the man. He always knew his father was a white man, their neighbors always making that fact known, repeatedly and with extreme prejudice.

Alastor had created a monstrous image of the man in his head for what sort of person abandons his unborn child? His mother's few friends from her community certainly always portrayed the man in such a way, bad mouthing the 'white-devil' who was nowhere to be seen. And yet his mother is now telling him that she loved him? And he loved her?

He shook his head back and forth, not wanting to believe the words she was saying. "What happened?"

"He...he wanted something more. I did too, just....I wanted marriage first. He didn't..." she trailed off at the end. She sounded worried, almost scared. A dread settled over him.

"What did he want?" he asked quietly, hesitantly.

"Oh darling," she said. "I think you already know what."

Of course. Alastor was here after all. And so many of the other children who knew him called his mother a whore. Alastor always figured he had to have been born out of wedlock.

He nodded his head slowly. "So you...?" He didn't want to say it. Thinking of his mother being with anyone in that way wasn't a pleasant thought. Thinking of THAT in any way wasn't a pleasant thought.

Another long pause. So long that he wondered if his mother heard him. He looked at her and the unshed tears from early were now running down her cheeks. He was startled at such a sight. "Mother?" he asked, afraid of what he had said to cause such a reaction.

Finally she responded. "No, darling. No I didn't."

He scrunched up his eyebrows in confusion. "I don't understand. But...you had me."

She nodded her head. "Yes I did."

Alastor's head was running a mile-a-minute, unsure of what his mother was saying. "Mother? I don't understand." He felt like he was incapable of saying anything else.

"Baby." She grabbed his hand and squeezed. "Are you sure you want to hear this?"

He felt like he was not in control of his body when he nodded. Did he want to hear this? If he didn't allow his mother to continue then would she ever tell him the truth?

With a deep and shaking inhale of breathe she spoke. "One night, we met out here. Like we always did for we couldn't meet anywhere else. He was sweet and oh so tender, like he always was. We danced underneath the moon, and we laughed as we drank from a bottle of liquor he stole from his daddy's store. We lay on the grass together, telling stories and laughing. And then he brought up what it was he wanted and I told him that I wanted to get married first, as I always did. He, uh," her voice cracked. "He must have drank a little too much from that bottle that night or perhaps he was tired of my constant refusal. I'm not quite sure. But he wasn't happy."

Despite the heat, Alastor could feel a chill run down his spine.

"He...he accused me of playing hard to get. He told me that I was lucky to ever receive the attention from someone like him. He said that I should be thankful for him wanting to be with me in such a way when other white boys wouldn't even want to touch me." She swallowed thickly. "He-" she gasped. "He didn't take no for an answer."

His mother quickly put a hand to her mouth in an attempt to stifle any cry that threatened to escape her lips. She shut her eyes tight and small tremors wrecked through her body. She was so silent. It made him wonder how many times she had done this over the years without him noticing.

He wanted to reach out and comfort her but he felt frozen to his seat as he felt himself begin to shake as well. After all these years of imagining the sort of man his father to be it turned out that reality was so much worse.

The man's face flashed in his mind. The eyes, the hair, the skin, it was all different, but everything else was the same. His laughter even sounded like him. They were the same.

"Oh darling, Alastor, please breathe. You needed to breathe sweetie." Hands were on his, rubbing soothing circles into the backs of his hands. His much lighter colored hands. They weren't the same shade as that mans but they were much closer to his coloring than his mothers. How could she stand to touch his hands?

His breathing was coming in hitches. He tried to listen to his mothers soothing words. "How-" he hiccupped. "How can you stand to look at me?" A cry tore from his throat. "How can you stand to keep me?"

"What?" His mother looked alarmed. "What ever do you mean?"

"I look like him," he whimpered. "I look just like him. Everyone's always said. How can you stand to look at me and not hate me after what he did?"

Alastor tore his hands from hers, unable to stand the undeserved comfort. "You didn't want me. I was a mistake! I shouldn't exist!"

He began to cry in earnest then, overwhelmed with the reality of the situation. After all this time he thought his father had discarded his mother. He thought that it was a relationship that ended in his father realizing what it meant to be in a romantic relationship with a black woman and to have her child. Never did he think that his mother had been raped.

His mother wrapped her arms around him and began to stroke his hair. He wanted to push her off but he couldn't bring himself to when he felt the strength behind her hold. She was as desperate for this comfort as he was.

After a couple minutes of holding each other, both crying on each other's shoulders, his mother grabbed his shoulders and pushed him back. "Now you look at me. And you listen real good." He was helpless to obey. "You, my beautiful baby boy, are NOT a mistake." He opened his mouth to protest but she shook him to keep him from talking. "No you listen! Never in a million years could you ever be a mistake. You are the best thing that could have ever happened to me. And I could never hate you."

He shook his head. "But how can you stand to look at me? After what happened?"

His mother brought one of her hands to his cheek, whipping away his tears. "Because that mans actions are no one's fault but his own. You are MY son. Not his. Do you hear me? I love you. And nothing that man did is ever going to change that."

More tears streamed down his face but each one his mother whipped away with her thumb. He leaned his cheek into her hand, attempting to soak up every last ounce of comfort from her.

He allowed his head to be brought to her shoulder as she placed one of her hands on the back of his head. He brought his arms up around her waist and clung to his mother.

How could anyone want to hurt such a sweet and lovely woman? How could they harm her in such a way that was irreparable? Anyone who dared even think of hurting a person in such a way deserved to be hurt in equal parts, if not worse. They didn't even deserve to live.

A dark twisted feeling began to roll deep inside of Alastor. It was burning and piercing, tearing at his heart and soul. He ached for his mother and her pain. And he wanted that man to ache too.

In that moment Alastor vowed to himself that he would make his father, no that MONSTER, pay for what he had done. Alastor vowed, that that man would suffer. Alastor vowed that no matter what, he would find a way to kill him.

_______________________

Alastor lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling. It was so quiet. Nothing like his childhood home. Or any of his other homes he had had since waking up in Hell.

Charlie and the others repaired the hotel but their efforts could not bring back his bayou. Only his magic could. And he was far too weak to attempt such a thing now. He desperately wished he could replicate it now with all it's familiar smells and sounds.

Soon, he reminded himself. Hopefully he could do so soon.

He still felt like he was reeling from the discovery the night prior. It wasn't long after Lucifer's admission that whatever was on Charlie's phone could be enough for them to get Heaven to speak with them that Alastor then collapsed. It drew the attention of Charlie and the others quick enough, causing them to run to his aid, even the reluctant King. Charlie then quickly launched into an excited explanation of the new discovery that he struggled to follow until she showed him her phone.

The picture was clear enough. As was who the sender was.

Adam, the one who could very well turn into his murderer, was alive and in Hell. As a Demon. And Vox thought this information could be useful to Charlie.

What was he playing at? What did he think he would gain from giving this information to Charlie? It was clear from his message he wanted Charlie to be able to open communication back up with Heaven but why would he want that? Another ridiculous business proposition? No, not even Vox is stupid enough to think there would be a chance in Hell that Heaven would ever agree to some sort of business deal with him and the other Vee's.

What then? Does he think he could get some sort of deal out of Alastor in exchange for helping potentially save his life? If so, why offer this information willingly and with no conditions to Charlie? It didn't make sense!

Alastor could see the shifting of the shadows in his room. Clearly his companion wished to make itself known at Alastor's spiraling thoughts. It had been annoyed with Alastor's concern more about Vox's involvement versus the revelation of Adam being alive.

'Such things should not be possible. You should be more concerned about this.' It hissed in Alastor's mind.

"What does it matter? Isn't this what the Mistress wanted? The Princess's goals have actual merit now." Alastor said in annoyance.

All day the other inhabitants of the hotel had been in a buzz about what Adam's presence in Hell could mean. Charlie seemed to be of a mind that if Angel's could come back as Sinners after dying a second time then that meant Sinners could come back as Angel's. Vaggie, as always, was more skeptical. She confirmed that there had never been a single Sinner who had arrived in Heaven after their second death. She also pointed out that all Exterminators, contrary to some beliefs in Hell, were not Heavenborn. They were like Adam in that they were once humans who had died. They were hand picked by Adam and the Seraphim to become Exterminators. As such, where were they and why hadn't any of them shown up in Hell after dying a second time like Adam?

None of that dissuaded Charlie's enthusiasm over the prospect of Sinners being able to be redeemed, however.

'Who said anything about the Mistress wanting Sinners to be redeemed?' asked the shadow.

Alastor scrunched up his face in confusion. "Then why am I even here? What could she possibly want from me helping Charlie?"

'You know better than to ask such questions. The Mistress's thoughts and desires are not for you to know unless if she deems it necessary.'

Alastor scowled, tired of this same old dance. Time and again he has been forced to abide by her every command. Time and again he receives very little in way of an explanation. And every time he is expected to obey without complaint.

He chose not to comment, knowing it was pointless. He also was tired of the same old view from his boring and quiet room. He decided to push himself up with great effort, the same as he had the night previous. He didn't care if Charlie caught him and decided to reprimand him again for wondering the hotel while injured. He refused to remain bedbound.

He stumbled his way across his room and down the hall. He heard even more voices in the lobby area then the night before. This time the rest of the hotel's inhabitants were present, all still obviously in a buzz about the previous nights revelation. The only one that appeared to be absent was the King himself.

Instead of waiting at the top of the stairs, hiding in shadows, he decided to descend down to the lobby area. The first to notice his arrival was Nifty who bound up to him in excitement. He acknowledged her presence with a quick pat on her head which she seemed to relish.

"Alastor," said Charlie with concern. "You really shouldn't be out of bed."

"Now, now darling. Nothing good can come of lazing about in bed all day!" He responded with cheer. He attempted to hide any of his pain but with his stiff back and slow walk down the stairs it was clear that he was not in the best shape.

"Healing can come from that," she said pointedly while she rushed to his side to try and help. He held up a hand to prevent her from grabbing ahold. Thankfully she abided by his wishes. It seemed that the overly enthusiastic Princess had been learning some tact.

He made his way over to one of the barstools, sitting next to Angel Dust and his friend. Cherri, was it? "One glass of rye on the rocks, please, Husker dear."

Husk looked at Alastor with a deadpan look before slipping his gaze to Charlie.

"Do you really think having alcohol right now is a good idea, Alastor?" she asked.

Husk looked back at him, expression not changing. "She's right, boss. Alcohol ain't going to do you any good with that hole in your chest."

Alastor bristled at his words. A darkness creeped behind the bar that didn't go without notice by the others. Husk's hair began to stand on edge in fear.

"Alastor." Charlie placed a hand on his shoulder, causing the shadows to retreat. "Husk is only trying to help."

"He is a bartender. His one job is to serve alcohol. Which I've asked for." Alastor gave a withering look at his thrall. "Now if you don't mind, dear," he said with far more cheer.

Husk sighed and grabbed the aforementioned bottle of liquor and began to pour. The glass was soon placed in front of Alastor without further incident. When he took a sip he realized he truly did not want the alcohol. It made his stomach nauseous. But once he had entered the lobby where everyone was at he desperately wanted to act as if everything was normal. Since so many were at the bar he felt asking for a glass would have been the best way to go about accomplishing that.

He forced himself to take another sip at Husk's knowing look.

Charlie sighed. "Well I guess if you insist. I just don't want you to get even worse. Especially since you're recovery is just within our grasp!"

"You sure about that?" pipped up Angel. "I mean, we sure Heaven's going to want to talk to your dad, Charlie?"

"I mean they have to!" she said enthusiastically, hopping up and down. "Adam's alive! Or I mean he's been brought back as a Demon. That's one Hell of a revelation! Why wouldn't they want to meet with my dad?"

"Because they're Heaven and a bunch of assholes," said Vaggie. The rest of the room silently agreed with her while Charlie looked distressed. "Look, sweetheart. I know you want this to work, and I admit this is our best shot, but Heaven is stubborn. There's no knowing if they'll actually agree to meet with your dad or you. I just want you to be ready for disappointment." Vaggie couldn't help but look at Alastor out of the corner of her eye and in turn so did everyone else. He bristled under their gazes but tried to not let it show. While he was of a mind to agree with Vaggie's statement he felt equally desperate, if not more so, than Charlie. His life literally depended on Heaven's cooperation.

"I don't see why Heaven won't at least agree to a meeting after this," said Charlie with more calm. "This is big news. It's the agreeing to give us what we want that I admit will be much harder."

"You can say that again," drawled the sinner next to Angel. Alastor was quite certain now that her name was Cherri. "I mean what's your plan exactly? We give them Adam and they give you the antidote?"

Charlie hesitantly nodded. "Uhhh, yeah. More or less."

Husk scoffed. "You sure they'd actually want him back? He's a Demon now. A sinner."

"He's also the First Man," replied Charlie with an unsure tone.

Husk nodded. "Yeah, who fucked up the last extermination and got himself killed. Nice job by the way Nift." The small Demon jumped up in cheer at this and then hoisted herself onto the bar top, smiling up at the cat Demon. He gave her an annoyed look at the fact her feet were on the bar top but Angel affectionately patted her head which made her smile even wider. Husk let it slide. "My point is, I doubt they'll welcome him back with open arms."

"Lute might," said Vaggie with a contemplative look. "She was obsessed with Adam. I'm quite certain she might have even been in love with him. And with Adam no longer in Heaven she should be the one in charge of the Exterminators. She has influence. She might be able to convince Sera to let him back."

Charlie looked at her girlfriend with a hopeful expression. "You think?"

Vaggie shrugged and gave her a small smile. "I don't know. Maybe."

Alastor hummed, drawing the looks of the others. "It's at least an angle we could consider. Maybe if Heaven agrees to this meeting and this Lute attends then she could be the one we lean on to get our way."

"Yeah and what about Adam?" asked Angel. "You sure he's going to want to go back to Heaven? Maybe he likes it down here. He sure seemed to be all buddy-buddy with Val in that photo."

Vaggie rolled her eyes. "Believe me, that man would do anything to go back to Heaven, trust me. He isn't going to want to stay down here. He hates Hell and all Sinners."

"You sure?" pushed Angel further. "I mean if he hates it down here then why get cozy with the Vee's? They're Overlords. You'd think he'd hate them most."

"Maybe he had no other choice," said Cherri, downing the rest of her drink and then indicating to Husk to pour her another. He wordlessly obliged.

"Maybe," drawled Husk. "He has been down here for a month. Who knows what he had encountered during that time while wondering the streets. The first couple of months are always the hardest. Although that is a long time for him to go without notice."

Vaggie hummed and brought her hand up to her chin in thought. "Hhm, you're right. You'd think he'd have stirred up some sort of trouble by now by being here. We sure he's been on the streets this whole time? Maybe he's been with the Vee's this whole month."

Alastor felt his shoulders tense. Charlie then waved her hand as if to brush off the notion. "What? Nooo! That can't be! Vox would have told us during our meeting if that were true, Vaggie!"

"Why? Because he's concerned about Alastor?" Vaggie threw her arm out at Alastor. He leaned back to avoid her arm, scowling. "Yeah right, he's an Overlord. I don't know what he's hoping to get out of this but it ain't good. I can tell you that."

Damn. Alastor was finding himself agreeing with Vaggie more and more.

Husk growled. "Look he may be an opportunistic Overlord but he's also jumping through a lot of hoops here. Why would he come here to try and help Alastor, tell you it didn't work completely and you need to find another solution, and then decide to tell you days later that Adam's alive? Doesn't make sense. I'm tellin' you, the Adam development is news to Vox too."

Charlie nodded her head quickly in agreement. Despite himself Alastor found Husk's words to hold some merit. It was a confusing situation. He didn't understand Vox's actions but he was still trying to figure out the catch. Because there was always a catch with Vox. He never could just let things be as they were. He always wanted more.

Before anyone could say anymore the front doors opened, presenting Lucifer who wore a wide smile. He made a beeline for Charlie, grasping her shoulders and lifting her off the ground slightly.

"It worked! Charlie dear, it worked! They've agreed to a meeting with us! Next week!" He laughed in enthusiasm. Charlie's face tore into a matching expression, also laughing in excitement. If possible, Lucifer's smile grew at having finally been able to make his daughter happy.

The hotel erupted in cheer at the good news. They grabbed each other in excitement, Angel even patted Alastor's back in congratulations. While he would normally brush off such contact he felt frozen to his spot and barely registered the contact.

Heaven had agreed to a meeting. His salvation was within reach. He may be able to be cured.

An invisible hand lay lightly against his shoulder, barely applying any pressure. It was much lighter than Angel's excited slap to his back but it was the one thing that registered through the shock that Alastor was under. It squeezed slightly, in an imitation of reassurance. He looked out of the corner of his eye and saw a shadow resting on his shoulder.

Alastor whipped his head to the side, causing an unnatural crack, when Charlie drew him from his stupor when she grabbed his hand. Her face was right next to his, beaming at him with tears welling up in her eyes. "Alastor isn't this great! We're going to get your cure!"

The pressure at his shoulder dissipated, making him feel like he could finally breathe. He gave a more genuine smile to the Princess as his face softened. "Yes. It is quite wonderful."

"Yeah, well you're welcome," came the irritating response from Lucifer. Alastor narrowed his eyes at the much shorter Demon. "None of this could happen without me, you know."

"Mmmm, I seem to recall Charlie was the one who provided the proof necessary for a meeting," Alastor said with a sneer.

"Actually that was Vox! He's the one that really saved the day here!" said Charlie with gusto. Alastor felt his ear twitch at that. She wasn't wrong, per se.

"Speaking of the television," said Lucifer. "You're going to have to talk to him, Char-Char. Heaven only agreed to this meeting as long as Adam is there. No Adam. No meeting."

"Of course! Of course! Makes total sense." Charlie was already pulling her phone from her pocket. Wait, was she going to call him right now? Right next to Alastor?

Sure enough, Charlie began dialing. Vaggie came up next to her and told her to put it on speaker phone. Damned Fallen Angel. The both of them. Beside Alastor, he could hear Cherri whisper to Angel that this was going to be good.

The phone rang and rang and rang and then voicemail. Charlie scrunched up her eyebrows in confusion and dialed again. This time the phone rang only once before it went to voicemail. "Looks like he rejected your call," Angel said unhelpfully.

Charlie called again, and again one ring before voicemail.

Husk hummed as he picked up a glass to clean. "Seems like he doesn't want to talk."

"Yes but we have to talk to him! We can't get this far only for him to not want to talk to me!" cried Charlie.

Alastor felt like the other shoe had dropped. Was that it then? Dangle the tiniest bit of hope right before his eyes and then snatch it away at the last minute? Alastor felt his anger and power rising within him. A sharp pain at his abdomen reminded him that there was nothing he could do himself. He wouldn't be able to go to V Tower and confront any of the Vee's or Adam. He didn't stand a chance.

Charlie attempted to call again and this time the phone ringed past the first ring. Finally, it stopped.

"Jesus fucking Christ will you chill the fuck out!!" shouted Vox from the phone. "I reject your calls so you decide to just keep calling over and over?? Fucking Hell! Some of us are busy, you know!"

Charlie flinched back at the loud and angry voice, holding the phone as far away from herself as possible while she wore a sheepish expression. "Sorry! Sorry Mr. Vox! I didn't mean to interrupt you it's just I really needed to get in touch with you!"

"Yeah that's obvious from the relentless calling! Jesus fuck you are worse than Valentino!" Charlie flinched again at the comparrison and this time so did Angel.

"Hey!" shouted Vaggie who grabbed the phone from Charlie. "You can calm yourself. She just said she needed to get in touch with you and it's because it's important!"

Some movement could be heard on the other end of the phone and then an equally irate females voice could be heard. "Fuck you! If it's so imporant than maybe you shouldn't be yelling at the man you clearly need a favor from!"

Alastor could hear Vox in the background chastising Velvette for taking his phone. Alastor sneered at the phone. If the disgusting moth Demon decided to chime in then he was going to vaporize the phone himself, antidote be damned.

Charlie snatched her phone back from Vaggie, fumbling with it as she brought it close to her face. "So so sorry! Really! We don't mean any offense! Please don't hang up!"

More shuffling on the other end of the phone along with some curses from the younger Overlord. Finally Vox said, "You got 5 minutes. What is it?"

Without any further delay Charlie blurted out, "Heaven! It's about Heaven. They've agreed to meet with me!"

There was a long pause from the phone where no noise could be heard. Then, "Well damn. That was fast," said Velvette.

"Yes! Yes," Charlie took a deep breathe trying to compose herself. Everyone kept quiet, allowing her to try and rein this conversation back in. "My dad talked to them today. They agreed to a meeting as long as Adam will be there."

A quiet 'shit' could be heard muttered on the other side of the line. Quiet murmurs as well. "When?" asked Vox.

"One week from now. At nightfall," answered Lucifer.

Nervous laughter from Vox. "Your majesty! I didn't realize you were there!"

"Yes, well....here I am!..." Lucifer trailed off, not knowing what to say.

There was another long pause. Everyone held their breathe. Even Alastor. If he would be asked later on he would lie and say he wasn't on the edge of his seat waiting for an answer from Vox.

"...I'm assuming it'll be at the embasy?" said Vox.

Charlie looked at her father who nodded. "Yes," she answered.

"I'll be there with Adam." Vox's voice was firm with no hesitation. He didn't even ask for anything in return. Alastor was surprised. Why would he be so stedfast in his answer? Why would he care?

After all these decades Vox was always the one to initiate any sort of fight between the two of them. Vox would always seek out Alastor and strike the first blow. He would spit vitrol at Alastor, provoking him to violence, insisting that they weren't friends and that he always hated Alastor. Things had progressed steadily over the years and culminated in an all out death-match seven and a half years ago. Vox was at deaths door and Alastor could have finished him off but didn't. He hesitated. At the reminder his shadow growled at the back of his mind. He had paid dearly for such a mistake. He would not do so again.

Spurred on by his shadow Alastor lashed out. In the back of his mind he knew he should stay quiet but he felt he should prove himself. Prove that he had no devotion left for the idiotic telvesion and was only devoted to his mistress.

"You better," said Alastor with as much venom in his voice as he could muster. "I'll be sure to pay you a visit if you don't." Alastor dearly hoped that his threat sounded like it held promise despite the falsehold it actually held. Seeing as Vox saw the state of him, even if it sounded promising, it was likely that Vox wouldn't believe him.

"Oh you piece of shit little fawn!" shouted Velvette, causing the phones speakers to sound like they had blown out due to her volume. She continued to screech as she said, "Why the fuck is there an entire audience to this, princess?? Tell fucking Bambi to go fuck himself because he's the one that we are all doing this for despite him being a stupid little ungrateful shit who doesn't deserve Vox's good will and is lucky that he decided to contact you so the damned Radio Demon wouldn't fucking die! Which by the way, I would love to see and also-"

All of a sudden Velvette was cut off as the biggest struggle they had heard thus far could be heard on the other end of the phone. Actual crashes and smacks sounded through the speakers, along with more curses. 'Dammit, Vox' along with 'Give me the damn phone, Vel' could be heard. Alastor felt a vindicitve sort of happiness at causing chaos amongst the Vee's. Even if it wasn't with the other Vee that he would have much rather caused Vox to be upset with.

Eventually quiet could be heard. Then Vox said, "Yes well I promise I'll be there with Adam."

"You better," growled Alastor. Charlie actually glared at him at that.

A pause. Vox scoffed. "Fuck you! I'm not doing this for you, asshole. I want Adam out of my tower. He's more trouble than he's worth, I'm sure. Get him out of Hell and I'll be happy."

His shadow whispered at the back of Alastor's mind, 'And there's his reasoning.' Alastor swallowed thickly. 'He's more trouble than he's worth. He wants Adam gone as much as anyone in Hell.'

Alastor took a deep and shaky breath. 'Your old friend is only interested in his own preservation. Adam is a threat to him. He wants him gone.'

Alastor felt his hands shake where they lay on the bar top. He clasped at his glass tightly to prevent this. 'But this can be used to our advantage. His goals align with ours. If this can get you your antidote then it will be worth it,' hissed the shadow. Alastor remained silent. It was right. It didnt' matter if Vox couldn't care less for Alastor. If his overly ambitious goals helped Alastor then it would be worth it. Alastor could always punish Vox later once his powers were restored.

Vaggie chimed in and said, "Yes. Yes, I think that's what we all want. Adam out of Hell."

Vox hummed. "Good. I'm glad we're on the same page."

Charlie gave a nervous laugh. "Yes. Good. I'm glad we could come to an agreement! Thank you Mr. Vox. This had been a productive phone call. We will see you then!"

"Yeah. Yeah." A sigh. "I'll see you then."

The phone disconnected.

After another long pause Charlie let out a deep breathe and so did everyone else. She then turned to Alastor. "Well that went well! Although you could have been more polite. I mean Vox is trying to help you out. You could have been more considerate."

Alastor gave a mirthless smile. "The pathetic sell-out is only in this for himself. I see no reason to be polite when he clearly gains just as much as everyone, having the biggest Exterminator dispealed from Hell."

Charlie's shoulder's and face fell, clearly upset with Alastor's response. It made Alasator uncomfortable, seeing such a response. He didn't understand his own reaction and chose to think it meant he was annoyed at her innocence.

Husk gave a disbelieving noise. "Yeah. That's why he's doing this."

Alastor's lips curled, straining his smile as he looked at his thrall who ignored his gaze as he cleaned another glass. Husk knew Alastor was staring at him as his ears twitched but he stubbornly refused to look at him. Alastor's abodmen made it clear that he could do very little besides glare at the other.

"Even if that's why Vox is doing this, we should be more polite. He's helping us," said Charlie. She sounded disapointed in him. It was annoying. "Besides, he hasn't once asked me for a deal. I think that's rather significant for an Overlord if I do say so myself!" God she was smiling again. Alastor never thought he would be annoyed by someone else smiling so relentlessly.

He supposed it was rather significant Vox hadn't asked for Charlie's soul or any sort of deal. Perhaps Adam truly was that much of a bother to Vox he wanted him gone. Adam was a formidable foe after all, otherwise Alastor wouldn't be in this mess. That had to be it.

Alastor would play to Vox's concerns when it came to Adam and help manipulate him into getting Heaven to agree to an exchange. Once Alastor was healed then Vox would be fair game. Then Alastor could properly teach him a lesson for trying to get involved in Alastor's affairs and manipulate him. Alastor knew what Vox was truly like. Charlie was naive to think that Vox cared for anyone else besides himself. Alastor would show her and the rest of Hell who was truly on top. He would show Vox.

Alastor swore that eventually, he would kill Vox.

His shadow hissed in pleasure.

Notes:

1905: Alastor is 15 years old

I honestly don't know if the exterminators, or Vaggie, are meant to be Heavenborn or former humans. I know a lot of people have theorized that Vaggie is a Heavenborn due to Adam "naming her". But I saw her being given a name reminiscent of how Sinners give themselves new names (ex: Angel Dust is Anthony; Husk is for sure not a real name, nor Nifty, nor Velvette, nor Vox). Maybe that's incorrect but I haven't seen anything official saying otherwise. I'm leaving the other exterminators as being former humans for this story. Maybe that will be disproved for the future but I've also kind of started cultivating a vague backstory for Vaggie being a former human for this story so that's what I'm going with.

Also, want to say that I know this chapter has taken so long. Sorry about that. Honestly, I think this chapter took so long just because it has really kind of taken me a while to find Alastor's voice. Yes he's such a prominent part of canon and fanon but within canon he's such a mystery so it's hard to get into his mind in my opinion. It's one thing to create a voice for characters that are well established or aren't, but a character that is purposely such a mystery is hard to try and write. Because I'm trying to figure out what I want to do with that mystery. Like I want to maintain that to an extent, and run with it, but also give you bread crumbs for where I am running with his character. Hope this does it justice because I think I've at least kind of got a feel for him so hopefully future Alastor centric chapters will be easier to write. At the very least the next Alastor centric/flashback chapter I'm excited about and have most of it planned out. Granted that won't be for a couple of chapters but still.

I do have a week that I will be off of work and not have much planned here soon so I am hoping to write a bunch that week. I am hoping that the next chapter will be relatively soon and maybe even have a couple of chapters that I can post here within a week or two (that might be hopeful thinking but we will see). Either way, I hope you all at least enjoy this one despite the long wait!

And as always, stay tuned for the next chapter!

Chapter 9: A Heavenly Meeting

Summary:

Vox has a conversation with Adam about the meeting with Heaven. And then the meeting finally arrives.

Notes:

Sorry for the wait! I wanted to get this done sooner but this turned into a much longer chapter than I was anticipating. Good news is the next chapter is already partially written so hopefully that won't be as long of a wait. But thanks to everyone who has left comments and kudos. It means so much to have all of your support!

Also, the wonderful ShimNam here on Ao3 decided to create a animatic of this story of Vox and his siblings. Their name on Twitter (X, whatever) is @NaroJunipo and the video can be found at at the link below. Please go check it out! It's great!

https://twitter.com/NaroJunipo/status/1786867203788194121?s=19

TW for this chapter: light strangulation (more of a threat)

Vox huffed in agitation.

He tapped his fingers on Valentino's kitchen island counter, where Vox sat. He glared across the room at where Val sat laughing with Adam, smoking and drinking and generally having a fun time. For four days now the two had been constantly partying ever since Adam first showed up in their tower. Three days since Vox had received the call from Charlie. Four days away from the meeting with Heaven at the embassy. And Vox still hadn't spoken to Adam about it.

How was he supposed to have a conversation with Adam about this when Val constantly took up his time. Valentino had even helped Adam acquire a couple of his very own souls, feeding the new sinner with the thrill that such power afforded. Val insisted that it was important to help guide Adam in these early days of his damnation and help get him on his feet, endearing him to the Vee's. Vox silently disagreed.

Val's insistence that first night that it was smart for them to bring Adam under their roof for their own protection felt more and more like an excuse for him to have fun with his newest toy. Vox wasn't entirely sure what Valentino's goal was but it seemed like he was enjoying 'playing nice' with the ex-Exterminator a little too much. It made Vox reluctant to talk to Adam about getting him sent back to Heaven in Valentino's presence. He didn't trust that Valentino wouldn't be upset with Adam leaving Hell. And Vox hated making Valentino upset. It made him gulp and pull restlessly at his always too tight collar.

A loud bark of laughter sounded from the couch where Valentino sat with two whores leaning against him. Across from him, on the opposite couch, sat Adam who also had another one of Val's whore's draped across him. Adam was clearly regaling them with a story of slaughter during one of the exterminations from centuries past, long before any of the present sinners had ever even been born, minus the storyteller himself of course. While Valentino and his whore's seemed to find the story entertaining, Vox couldn't help but shutter at such a tale. And he wasn't the only one.

"Look at them. Little freaks laughing at long dead Sinners who were murdered by that disgusting angel and his lackey's. Makes me want to stab something," growled Velvette from beside him. As if to emphasis her point she dug her nails into the countertop, leaving indents.

Vox hummed. "Yes well, technically he isn't an angel anymore."

"Shut it!" she hissed, whipping her head towards him. "If we have anything to say about it he'll be an angel again before we know it. You just need to finally fucking talk to the bastard instead of chickening out every Goddamn time!"

Vox turned to shoot daggers at Velvette with his eyes. "And when would I have exactly found time to do so, hmmm? Val's been by his side constantly."

"Who fucking cares if he is? Val can go fuck himself if he decides to get pissy for us trying to send Adam back to Heaven." Velvette turned from Vox and took a giant gulp of her drink. "I don't know why you decide to coddle the man-child all the damn time. Fuck him and his moods." She slammed her glass onto the counter, causing a clang. Thankfully it wasn't loud enough to draw the attention of the other occupants of the room.

A niggling in the back of his mind wanted him to just tell her why he was always so concerned for Valentino's volatile moods but he knew he never would. He couldn't.

"Yes well, you're not the one who has to live with him when he gets in his moods," said Vox, leaning his elbows on the counter.

"Fuck you, I don't have to live with him. I have an apartment here to, you know. I'm ALSO his partner, however begrudgingly that may be. I also have to deal with him. But I don't care!" she cried, but still only loud enough for Vox's ears. Vox internally grimaced. She really had no idea what Valentino was like when he was truly angry. "I just want Adam the fuck away from us! And who knows, maybe he'll even be thankful enough for us getting him back to Heaven that he will leave us alone during all the future exterminations."

God, Vox sure hoped so. Securing a free pass in all future exterminations for himself and Velvette would be one Hell of a win.

"It still doesn't hurt to try and be smart about this and mitigate any sort of upset this might cause with Val once Adam is gone. He's taken a liking to Adam for whatever reason, and he'll be pissed if he finds out we sent Adam away," grumbled Vox.

Velvette scoffed. "It's because they're both disgusting womanizing man-whores. Of course they'd get along."

Vox only hummed in agreement, unable to disagree. Velvette sighed. "But seriously, we need to have a damn talk with Adam about this meeting with Heaven. It's only days away at this point. We can't keep procrastinating."

Vox sighed too, running a tired hand across his screen. "I know. We just got to get Adam alone and away from Valentino first in order to do so."

"Ugh, fine," groaned Velvette, dramatically. She flopped down across the counter, resting her head in one of her hands, using the other to lazily twirl her drink. "I'll fucking distract the idiot and his little sluts. You can make your pitch with the Exterminator. Satan knows you're better at that shit than I am. Plus I can't stand being near the goat. He gives me the creeps." She shivered at that.

Vox couldn't help but agree. But he also knew that that was the best course of action. Velvette has made her displeasure towards the new Sinner quite clear to everyone. She wouldn't get past a minute of conversation with him before she would resort to shooting insults at Adam. And while Valentino had many faults, Vox wanted Velvette close to the ex-Exterminator even less.

"Deal. I got Adam. You handle Val. Give me at least five minutes. Ten if you can manage it," he said.

Velvette gave a humorless laugh. "You got five, if that."

Vox watched Velvette walk away and make her way up to the group. She began making herself a new cocktail as she chatted with the others, drawing the attention of Valentino and his girls. Vox was only half paying attention to the conversation, going through how he was going to approach his conversation with Adam.

He wouldn't admit to anyone but the man scared him and he didn't want to be anywhere near him. Adam made his disdain for Sinners obvious despite being one himself now. While he had remained civil with the Vee's thus far, there was no telling what could happen if things went south. Vox didn't doubt that Adam would be more than willing to return to Heaven, but it didn't hurt to be cautious.

Soon enough Valentino and the three demoness' sitting on the couches got up and followed Velvette with smiling faces and laughter. Vox noticed Adam get up to follow, signaling Vox to make his move. He rushed over to Adam's side before he could get too far and he grabbed his arm.

Adam turned to him with an annoyed look. "The fuck man?"

Vox put on his best winning smile, the one he put on for broadcasts and business deals. "Just wait a second, friend. I would like to talk with you! It seems like the whole time you've been here Valentino has monopolized your time. It just isn't fair!"

Adam smiled, clearly charmed by Vox's words. “I can’t exactly blame you for wanting to spend time with me, now can I? It’s perfectly understandable. I AM the best.” Adam flopped back down to the couch, spreading out as much as possible. With great effort, Vox refrained from rolling his eyes.

“But of course! I mean you ARE the first man. I’m sure you have quite the stories to tell.” Vox poured himself a drink along with another for Adam. It didn’t hurt to butter him up.

“Oh you have no idea! Millennia’s of badass stories right here, let me tell you!” Adam gratefully took the offered drinking, taking a generous sip. “Like there was this one time, back during one of the earliest exterminations where I-“

“Oh I’m sure that is quite the story of course,” Vox quickly cut him off, not wanting to allow the other to launch into another long winded self-congratulatory tale. There was no telling how long Valentino's attention would remain on whatever Velvette has found to distract him with. “The thing is I actually wanted to talk to you about something specific.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that? Need some pointers on catching some babes?” Adam asked with a smirk. “No offense but I doubt that head of yours is doing you any favors.”

Vox could feel his eye twitch but he kept on smiling. “No no. Nothing like that. I was hoping to ask you about Heaven.”

Instantly Adam’s face fell. “Why would you want to talk about Heaven?”

Vox shrugged, attempting to put on a nonchalant air. “Just curious. I mean it’s gotta be quite different from Hell. Can you really blame a poor unfortunate Sinner like me in being curious about Heaven?”

Adam glared at Vox. “Fuck yeah it’s different then Hell. It’s loads better than this shit hole, I’ll tell you that.”

“So you miss it then? Heaven?” Asked Vox.

“What the fuck do you think?!” Growled Adam, chugging his drink in one go. Once done he got up and walked to the liquor table to make himself a new one, using way more force when placing bottles down than was necessary.

Vox watched him angrily make the drink, waiting for it to be finished before continuing. He was lounging back on the couch, spread out and looking casual. “What if I told you there was a chance you could go back?”

“Pssh, yeah right. I’d tell you to fuck off before I stabbed you for being a dick,” said Adam who pointed at Vox using the same hand that held his glass.

“I’m being serious,” said Vox, meeting Adam’s eyes. For several seconds Adam stared at him before he suddenly threw his glass at Vox. He expertly dodged it due to all the years he spent with Valentino. But while he was dodging he was distracted and did not notice Adam move across the room until he was right in front of Vox, grabbing ahold of the lapels of his jacket and pinning him back into the couch. Vox's own drink fell to the floor, spilling everywhere.

“And I was being serious too.” Adam bared his teeth to Vox, getting into his face and growling.

Vox put up his hands in a placating manner. “Heaven has agreed to a meeting and they want you there.”

“Bull-fucking-shit! You’re an Overlord. Heaven wouldn’t speak with you and they wouldn’t agree to a meeting with you either!” One of Adam’s hands moved to Vox’s neck, squeezing slightly. Vox could feel his heart rate quicken at such an action but did not outwardly react. “The only ones they’d agree to speak with is Lucifer or his spawn and I seriously doubt they are talking to them now after the last extermination.”

“You’re right,” he calmly said. “They didn’t speak with me and they wouldn’t talk to the royal family. At least at first.” Vox gulped at the strain at his neck, causing Adam only to squeeze harder. “I told them about you and now Heaven has agreed to meet with them. And you.”

Adam narrowed his eyes at Vox. “What? You’re all buddy-buddy with the royal family now?”

“It’s simply business,” he replied.

“Yeah and what sort of business is that?” He questioned.

Vox shrugged. “They needed a means of communication with Heaven. I’ve finally given that to them. It doesn’t hurt to have the royal family indebted to you, no does it?”

Adam scoffed. “So you are giving them me so you can have the King of Hell owe you a favor?”

“Partially,” lied Vox. He gave a charming smile as he looked up at Adam. “Also it doesn’t hurt to help out the First Man and give him what he wants more than anything.”

The hand at his neck slowly released him, allowing Vox to finally take a slow deep breath. Adam laughed and pointed at him. “I’m starting to see that manipulative business man that I’ve heard so much about. Look at you, trying to get two of the most powerful beings in Hell to owe you a favor. You’ve got balls! That’s for sure!”

He walked away from the couch, grabbing an entire liquor bottle and sat down on the couch opposite Vox. “So what sort of favor are you looking for from me? You want into Heaven too?”

Vox couldn’t help the snort he made at that. “No, nothing like that. Just I would like you to remember what the Vee’s did here for you. Took you in. Shared our food and drink. Got you into Heaven.”

“You want protection from future exterminations,” Adam replied bluntly.

“Yes.”

Adam looked at Vox for a long moment and then leaned back in his seat. He smirked. “You want that protection for all the Vee’s? Or just a select few?”

A glitch distorted Vox’s screen. He gave a nervous chuckle. “Why we are a team. Of course I want protection for all of us!”

Adam gave a knowing hum. “Is that so? And does Valentino know about this little meeting with Heaven?” Vox tensed. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you and the little doll constantly staring at me ever since I got here, going off to your little corners to whisper about me. And just now she led your third off while you conveniently cornered me. It’s not hard to put two-and-two together.”

Well, Vox supposed he didn’t give Adam enough credit. He assumed he was just an egotistical narcissist who liked to party. But then again, Valentino was also that and yet he too had the occasional hidden bouts of perceptiveness. You didn’t get to become an Overlord if you didn’t. Vox supposed the same held true for being the head of the Exterminators.

“Valentino will see the merits of having you back in Heaven once you’re there,” replied Vox in way of an answer.

“You sure about that?” Asked Adam.

No, he thought. “Yes,” he replied.

Adam laughed. “You know, you’re not as good of a liar as you think you are. Your giant face is so expressive. And little glitches and sparks fly around you when you lie or are nervous.” As if on cue Vox felt his face glitch. “The rest of your body is pretty controlled but man, it’s gotta suck having that head of yours that constantly betrays your feelings.”

Vox bristled at his comment but said nothing. Adam continued. “I hear you were once a pretty great actor back in your life. Black and white shit. Boring! And I’ve never heard of you.” Yes well you were long dead before television was invented, thought Vox. “But you still are pretty good. I think you’d fool most.” Adam leaned forward in his seat and gave a predatory smile at him. “But I see you, Vox. I can see you’re afraid. And not just of me.”

Another glitch. Vox could feel his hands begin to shake and his heart pounding. He tightly clasped his hands together to hide them and attempting to take even breaths to calm his heart.

How had this conversation dissolved so far out of his control? He truly didn’t think Adam would be perceptive in the slightest. There was no indication that he was. So how would Adam know anything about his feelings towards Valentino? Had Valentino said something? They had been spending almost constant time around each other. It was possible. If so, how much had Valentino told him?

For a split second Vox felt panic that Valentino had told him everything. No, he reassured himself, that wasn’t possible. Their deal still held true. Valentino couldn’t tell him anything.

As Vox got his shaking under control and his heart rate down he adjusted in his seat, acting casual once more. He smiled. “Val can be a scary guy sometimes. He’s an Overlord! We all are! It comes with the job! Doesn’t mean I’m AFRAID of him. He’s my partner. In more ways than one! The Vee’s are a team.”

“Whatever you tell yourself at night to get you through another Hellish day, man.” Adam chuckled. He then stood up and sat down next to Vox, placing the liquor bottle down on the table in front of them. Vox made sure not to tense.

“Don’t worry,” he placed a hand on Vox’s shoulder in a show of false support. “I won’t tell him about Heaven’s little meeting. And during the next extermination, I’ll even be sure my bad bitches steer clear of you and the doll but I’ll let them know the moth is free game. Who knows? Maybe he’ll be stupid enough to wonder outside during the extermination!” He gave Vox a pointed look. Vox did not respond.

“But,” said Adam, snaking his arm behind Vox’s back, pulling him close in a sort of half hug. He brought his other hand up to Vox’s chest and slid it up to lightly sit just at the base of Vox’s neck. “If this doesn’t work out, if Heaven doesn’t take me back, I’m going to be VERY pissed off.”

Vox took a shaky breath. “Heaven only agreed to the meeting if you were there. They made no promises for anything else.”

Adam applied the slightest bit of pressure. “Well then, I guess it’s a good thing one of the best business men will be there with me to help convince Heaven to take me back.”

Vox turned and looked at Adam. His brows were furrowed and eyes were narrowed, attempting to intimidate Vox. But if he looked close he could see the slight wobble of Adam’s mouth. At this close proximity, Vox could feel Adam’s equally fast heart rate from where his chest leaned against Vox’s arm. He was afraid too. He didn’t know if Heaven would take him back.

That made Vox nervous. But also he couldn’t help but feel somewhat vindicated that Adam was also scared. He couldn’t resist needling him. “What’s the matter, Adam? Worried Heaven won’t want to take you back?”

“Shut up!” Growled Adam. “You just make sure I go back to Heaven and I’ll be out of your hair. I know that’s what you want. You do that and I’ll make it worth your while. Got it?” Adam pushed Vox back as he released him and then got to his feet.

Vox kept himself steady and then adjusted his jacket while he glared at the ex-angel. “Yeah, I got it. That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?”

At that they heard the distant sounds of Velvette and Valentino returning to the room with his whores. Thankfully Adam was able to put on a good show just like Vox and acted like nothing had happened. Valentino wasn’t any the wiser.

Velvette pulled Vox aside when she returned. “Well?” She asked.

“It’s done. He’s agreed to the meeting, obviously. Even agreed to offer us protection during future exterminations,” said Vox in a hushed voice. What he didn’t tell her was that Adam offered to kill Valentino in those exterminations too. Vox knew that Velvette didn’t care for Valentino but would she want him dead? If she knew the truth, certainly. And he didn’t want that. Telling her about Adam’s offer would reveal too much.

“Seriously? Well I guess that’s something. We just gotta hope Heaven takes him back. Which there’s no guarantee,” she grumbled.

“Yeah. And he didn’t seem super hopeful that they would do that either.”

“Fuck,” hissed Velvette. “If he ain’t hopeful then what are the odds they actually will? We’re still going to have to deal with his ass when they reject him and then what? We’re going to have to deal with a pissed off exterminator.”

“Guess I’m just going to have to be extra persuasive then!”

“Mhm.” Velvette didn’t seem convinced. “I’m assuming you’ll want me to distract Val during the meeting too?”

“You’ll have to. I still don’t want him to know about this until Adam’s gone.” Vox sighed.

“Yeah yeah. I’ll take care of the piss baby. You take care of the angel. Just get him the fuck out of here and I’ll be happy.”

“You and me both,” said Vox. God, he sure hoped this would work.

________________

Charlie anxiously bounced up and down on her feet, waiting inside Heaven's embassy. The meeting was fast approaching and still Vox hadn’t arrived with Adam.

Where was he? Did he decide to back out? That didn’t make any sense. He was the one to tell her about Adam! He wanted to help! Maybe something had happened. Maybe Adam didn’t want to go back to Heaven and hurt Vox! Oh no that wouldn’t be good! But no, Adam had to want to go back to Heaven. He loved it there!

Charlie’s nervous thoughts were spiraling and she was unable to stop it. She was just so worried about how this meeting would go and what it would mean for Alastor if it went badly.

“Breathe baby. You’re going to pass out if you start panicking and hyperventilate.” Vaggie put a comforting hand on Charlie’s back, rubbing circles to soothe her. Charlie stopped her bouncing at the contact and her girlfriend’s calming presence.

She was glad Vaggie came with, even if her dad said it would probably be best that she didn’t participate in the meeting itself. That didn’t stop Vaggie from at least coming to the embassy to show her support.

“I know, I know. I’m just nervous. We REALLY need this meeting to go well. And every other time I’ve met with Heaven things haven’t gone well,” Charlie said.

“Neither of those times were your fault. Heaven is stubborn and had already made up their minds about things. Nothing you would have said or done would have changed anything,” reassured Vaggie.

“Vaggie’s right,” said Lucifer. He stood by his daughter on her other side. “Heaven is a bunch of bastards who are stuck in their ways. There’s very little changing their minds on anything.”

“You know that’s not as comforting as either of you might think,” said Charlie. “If they are so stubborn then how are we supposed to convince them to give us an antidote for Alastor? How are we supposed to get them to talk to us about the exterminations? How are we supposed to get them to help us with anything?” As Charlie went on, her voice got more and more shrill. Each new possibility brought more anxiety.

“Easy Char-Char. I mean we’ve already broke grounds with them. They agreed to this meeting which seemed impossible just a month ago. That’s something!” Said Lucifer, enthusiastically.

“Yeah, on the condition that Adam shows up. And he’s not here!” Charlie threw her arm out at the empty lobby of the embassy.

“I told you it was too much to rely on that annoying picture-box. You can trust him as far as you can throw him!” Said Alastor with a sneer. He was the only one sitting out of the group, no doubt due to his injury. Despite this, he stood ramrod straight in his chair, grasping his cane across his crossed legs, looking for all the world as if he wasn't currently dying, slowly and painfully.

Vaggie scoffed. “Haven’t you thrown him across the street several times during your fights?”

“It’s a figure of speech, dear. But I understand that it may be hard for you to understand such nuances to the English language,” he drawled.

Vaggie started seething as she turned to the other. “Is that meant to be a racist comment?? You know I grew up in the US you idiot. I learned English at the same time I learned Spanish!”

“Oh no, dear,” snickered Alastor. “I’m simply insulting your intelligence. It has nothing to do with race. Your first language it may be, but that does not mean you have a mastery of it.”

“Why you little-“ Vaggie was rearing up to continue yelling at the other, and maybe even more, but Charlie cut her off.

“Vaggie please! We can’t fight right now.”

Vaggie reluctantly calmed down but continued to glare at Alastor who simply wore a smug and unconcerned look. For someone whose literal life hung in the balance based on this meeting, he was acting very nonchalant. Charlie wasn’t fooled, however, and knew he was just doing his best to cope with the situation the best way he knew how.

Shortly after that was when the front doors to the embassy opened and in walked Vox and Adam. While Charlie had seen the picture of Adam, and he looked rather similar to his former self, it was still jarring to see Adam as a Sinner. At the sight of the two newcomers, Alastor’s ears fell back slightly and his smiling face became strained, baring more of his teeth. It was the strongest reaction he had had since they left the hotel.

“Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to arrive,” sneered Alastor.

Vox rolled his eyes at him and opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by Adam. “Holy shit! You’re still fucking alive?” He cried. “How?? You should be dead by now!”

Alastor scrunched up his nose in disgust but smiled impossibly wider. “Seems that your pathetic attempt on my life was unsuccessful. I guess I’m stronger than you thought.”

“Nope. Nuh uh. That’s not how this works. That poison should have killed you by now. NO one can survive this long with it. It’s not possible. How the fuck did you manage that?” Asked Adam in disbelief.

Several sets of eyes unknowingly darted to Vox before returning to Adam. This didn’t go unnoticed from Adam. He turned to Vox too and said, “The fuck did you do?”

Vox scowled at the others and then glared at Adam. “I didn’t do shit.”

Adam narrowed his eyes at him and then looked at Alastor. Slowly a look of understanding crossed his face. He barked out a laugh. “Ahh I’m starting to understand it all now.” He elbowed Vox who took a giant step away from him. “Trying to get a piece of that!"

Sounds of radio static and television glitches filled the air. Vox’s face turned bright right and Charlie heard a low growl come from Alastor.

“Whh-x-at the He-xxx-ll! Fuck NO-xxxx!” Shouted Vox.

“I heard rumors there was something that had happened between the two of you. Thought it was just rumors but I guess not!” Said Adam with humor. He then leaned towards Vox and said in a mock whisper. “Do the other Vee’s know about this?”

Vox was glitching too much to respond.

“I knew you were quite the liar Vox, old pal. But this is a new low even for you, spreading rumors like that.” Alastor’s tone of voice was low and laced through with radio static. Charlie swore that the shadows around the walls were beginning to close in as well.

“Fuck yooo-xx-uu! I didn’t say shit!” Yelled Vox.

“He’s right,” said Adam. “He said this was all for protection from exterminations, favors from Kings.” Charlie heard her dad mutter “say what now?” Adam continued. “But this is the REAL reason for this meeting isn’t it?” Adam looked at Alastor with a smug expression. “Let me guess, that wound on your chest is still oozing blood ain’t it? Tell me, on a scale from one to ten, in how much pain are you currently in? I hear the poison is one fucking painful way to go!”

Adam started laughing at that. Alastor growled some more. His ears nearly flat on his head. He brought his cane down to the floor and began to rise but Charlie put a hand on his shoulder. He whipped his head towards her, causing an unnatural crack. Charlie did not waver in the face of his livid expression. She simply shook her head at him and gave a reassuring squeeze to his shoulder. Slowly, Alastor calmed down. Charlie saw the shadows begin to recede back to the walls and corners.

“That’s enough, Adam,” said Charlie, stepping forward. “The meeting is about to start. Regardless of why any of us are here, all of our goals are the same. Get you back to Heaven in exchange for Heaven’s cooperation. I think if we all work together then everyone can get what they want.”

Adam hummed. “And then some, ain’t that right?” He looked at Vox with a smile who narrowed his eyes at the former angel.

“Just fucking do as the princess says,” he growled.

“Yeah yeah. Don’t get your wires in a twist.” Adam snickered but began to stride past everyone, making his way towards the meeting room.

Once he was out of ear shot Alastor turned to Vox with a sneer. “Telling a little too many lies, are we? Or tell me, what exactly are you hoping to achieve from this little meeting? Royal favors, hhm? How interesting.”

“Oh shut up,” huffed Vox. “What was I supposed to tell him? Yeah I really want you out of my house but don’t feel like I can just kick you out? He’s the First Man. He nearly killed you. I’m not going to risk a fight with him. Better to tell him I’m looking for favors from powerful people.”

“And aren’t you?” Alastor asked.

Vox hesitated but Charlie interrupted. “It’s ok Vox. What you’ve done for us and Alastor is greatly appreciated it. Truly. I would be more than happy to help you with anything you may need.”

“Be careful, dear,” said Alastor. “You don’t want to be making deals with the Devil do you?”

Lucifer cried “hey!” at that but was mostly ignored. Vaggie stepped up next to Charlie and lowered her voice. “He’s right you know. You need to be careful with making any deals with Overlords.”

“Vaggie it’s alright. I know what I’m doing,” whispered back Charlie.

Clearly neither was particularly quiet because Vox scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Relax! I’m not asking for any sort of deal or favors from you or His Majesty. Which by the way, it's a pleasure to meet you in person, sire." Vox bowed low towards Lucifer who only awkwardly gave a thumbs up. Once he stood upright again, he addressed Charlie. "If Adam goes back to Heaven then we can call it even.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Asked Vaggie.

Again, Vox hesitated. A look that Charlie couldn’t decipher crossed his face. He looked…worried.

A loud gong sounded throughout the embassy from the giant clock. It was time for the meeting.

“Come on everyone. Let’s get this show on the road!” Said Lucifer.

Vaggie grabbed ahold of Charlie’s hand and squeezed. “Good luck. I’ll see you after the meeting.” She kissed Charlie on the cheek and smiled at her before taking a seat.

Together, the rest of the group traveled down the hall towards the direction Adam walked off. They soon arrived at the doors to the meeting room where Adam waited impatiently outside.

“Took you long enough,” he said.

“We’re here now, aren’t we?” Said Lucifer in annoyance. The two stopped right outside the doors and Lucifer turned to her. “You ready, Charlie? Remember, none of them will actually be here. It’ll just be projections from Heaven.”

She took a deep breath and nodded. “Yep. We got this.”

Lucifer looked at Vox and said, “Maybe you should remain out here too. Heaven didn’t agree to meet with you. Only us and Adam.”

“No,” said Adam with force. “He stays with me. I don’t want either of you fucking this up. He’s better at this business stuff whereas you two are absolutely terrible.” Adam nodded his head towards Alastor. “If anyone should stay behind it should be him.”

“I stay,” Alastor simply said.

Charlie silently agreed. She and Alastor had already had this debt with her father and Vaggie earlier. She felt he deserved to be present since the main reason for this meeting was to get his antidote.

“Fine! Whatever. Let’s just hurry up already,” huffed Adam.

Without further delay, Lucifer pushed open the doors. Charlie walked inside and was greeted with the sight of multiple angels. There were far more than that first meeting she had with them but far less than her second. There were several angels she vaguely remembered from being present at the angelic court. Two though she was far more familiar with.

Sera and Emily. The Seraphim. While Sera was an unwelcome sight Emily was not. Charlie was thrilled to see the other for she was a potential ally. At the very least she was far more sympathetic towards Hell’s plights.

Another unpleasantly familiar face was Lute. She stood to the left of Sera, helmet-less but otherwise in her Exterminator uniform. She was glaring at Charlie and Lucifer as soon as they walked through the door. If looks could kill then Charlie was sure she and her father would be dead on the spot. But once her gaze shifted, a soft expression lit up her face. “Adam,” she whispered with relief.

“Lute.” Charlie didn’t think she had ever heard such a soft and sincere tone of voice come from Adam before. She looked at him and his face mirrored his former subordinates. Despite all the pain and death he had inflicted on her people over the millennia, Charlie couldn’t help but feel sympathy for him. For both of them.

“My word,” said Sera in disbelief with wide eyes. “It truly is you, Adam. You’re alive.”

Adam gave a cocky smile at his former boss. “Yeah I am! You can’t kill me, baby!”

“Actually, we can,” said Lucifer. Charlie looked at her father with mild shock. His tone of voice was strong and commanding as was his presence. She knew he was the King of Hell and knew that for years he actually used to take a more active role in ruling but it was something that Charlie had never witnessed herself. She was used to his far more goofy, scatterbrained, and playful self. It had always been hard for her to imagine him as a ruler whereas it was easy with her mother. “He was killed during the extermination. We had his corpse. It was lifeless and he was dead, there was no question about it. And yet here he clearly is, changed, but still Adam.”

“Do you have proof of his death?” Asked Sera. “I know that’s what Lute reported when she came back to Heaven but maybe she left prematurely. Adam may have still been alive, but injured, when she left. Who knows what your lot did to him to make him appear like this.”

Lucifer scoffed. “Oh please. You’re not suggesting that we what, turned him into a demon?”

“Among other things,” replied Sera. “His appearance here may be simply cosmetic. It does not mean he is a demon.”

“Then check,” huffed Lucifer. “You’re a Seraphim. You have the power and ability to feel if someone is a demon, angel, or human.”

Sera nodded and raised her hand. A glowing yellow light shone from her hand when she directed it towards Adam. Other than the light, it appeared that nothing had actually happened. But then Sera widened her eyes slightly before lowering her arm.

“Well?” Said Emily. “What did you find?”

Sera straightened. “He’s a demon.”

Charlie noticed out of the corner of her eye Adam stumble slightly. It seemed that despite the last month or so of him being in Hell, changed, he still didn’t quite believe his reality himself. Charlie couldn’t even imagine what that must be like. Being a Hellborn she had never had to face the possibility of having her entire reality change like that in a blink of an eye. She knew that many Sinners talked about how those first couple of months in Hell were always jarring and felt more like a dream. It took time for their fate to sink in. It sounded terrifying.

“This proves nothing of course. You still could have found some way to make him this way,” said Sera.

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “You’re grasping at straws and you know it, Sera. Everyone here knows what this looks like and what this likely means. Don’t try and deny it.”

“The fact of the matter remains, there is no proof there has not been outside interference from your people, Lucifer. Adam may have still been alive by the time the angelic army left Hell. You could have done something to him.” Sera glared at the much shorter former angel.

The sound of a voice clearing came from behind Charlie, drawing the attention of everyone. Vox stepped forward slightly with his hands clasped behind his back. “If you don’t mind, I do believe I could provide some proof, uhm, how may I address you ma’am?”

“Your holiness, will do,” said Sera, stuffily.

Vox gave a polite laugh. “Of course, of course. Your holiness, I apologize. This is my first time being in the presence of a holy host. I do hope you will forgive me.”

“And who are you, sir?” Asked Emily with a smile. It was clear that Vox’s overly polite address had endeared him to her.

“Vox, your holiness. My business partners and I been housing Adam for the past week when one of us found him on his own on the street. My colleague decided it was best to help the poor new Sinner in his time of need.”

Alastor gave a disbelieving huff from beside Vox. Out of sight of the heavenly host, Vox stepped on Alastor’s foot who grit his teeth to hide the pain. Charlie gave both of them a warning look, pleading with her eyes for them to behave. Vox kept his eyes on the angels in front of them but Alastor narrowed his eyes at her but said nothing.

“Oh isn’t that sweet!” Said Emily with a hand on her chest.

“Mmm, quite,” drawled Sera, clearly less impressed. “And how exactly can you provide proof, Mr. Vox.”

He tapped the side of his head. “I have a recording of the extermination, you see.” Charlie’s eyes widened in shock and she knew she wasn’t the only one at the way Alastor, her dad, and Adam all whipped their heads towards him. “It’s kind of part of my whole thing, you see. I’m a technology demon. I have countless cameras all around the city that are constantly recording. I can store any recordings in my own head that I can then access at will and display on my screen for others to see.”

“Seems…like an invasion of peoples privacy,” said Emily hesitantly.

“Oh no no. It’s nothing nefarious you see. It’s meant to keep everyone safe in our fine city! I can keep an eye on any wrong doings going on and react appropriately,” he said with a smile.

“Laying it on a little thick, aren’t we?” Whispered Alastor just loud enough for Vox and Charlie to hear. Charlie couldn’t help but agree. While she didn’t distrust Vox in the same way the others did, she also knew his cameras weren’t exactly…benevolent. And clearly Sera didn’t think so either. He was a Sinner after all and she was clearly distrustful of all of Hell on principle.

“Wait, you got a recording of me being killed??” Cried Adam.

“Among other things,” he said with a shrug. “You may not want to watch what I have to show,” he said, addressing Adam directly.

“Fuck that! I want to know what happened to me!” Adam snarled.

“You’ve been warned,” said Vox, with little care. “With your permission, your holiness’s, I would like to show you the proof that Adam had died.”

The two Seraphim looked at each other and nodded. Sera looked back at Vox and said, “You may proceed.”

“Thank you, your holiness. I must warn you. What you’re about to see is rather graphic.”

Vox stepped forward to give all of the angels a more clear view of his screen. Charlie, her dad, Alastor and Adam all moved around him accordingly to likewise get a better view. Soon enough, Vox’s screen turned black and then a recording started.

It was surreal watching the end of the battle between her father and Adam and seeing herself stop her father from hurting Adam further. She didn’t know why Vox decided to show that portion of the video but from the murmurs from the angelic crowd they approved of her actions. Was Vox trying to endear her to them? The recording skipped forward slightly, skipping over Adam yelling at Charlie and the rest of the crew from the hotel. She didn’t understand why but then realized that his words and actions would paint him in a negative light. And they were all trying to get Adam back to Heaven. If Adam looked like a bad man then perhaps Heaven would be less likely to take him back. Next everyone saw Adam get stabbed repeatedly by Nifty as she laughed manically. Gasps and shouts went through the room. Adam stumbled slightly and Charlie heard Lute curse. Charlie cringed at the reaction but knew that everyone had to see him be stabbed to believe in his death. They watched Lutes reaction and her retreat along with the other exterminators. Vox fast forwarded to Lucifer examining Adam’s body, confirming he was dead. And then next Vox showed a group of cannibals cutting up Adam’s body and biting into his flesh. His innards were clearly displayed for everyone to see, some of which had even been removed. There were horrified screams and cries, one angel even threw up. She was thankful they were actually in Heaven and not here in Hell.

“You sick freaks!” Cried Lute in outrage. Adam looked green himself. She felt bad for him but also hoped he didn’t throw up himself.

Vox’s screen returned to normal and showed a sad and concerned expression. “I apologize for that display, this is Hell after all and there are all sorts of depraved souls down here. Some of which even eat the dead.”

A low growl from Alastor was heard, again only loud enough for herself and Vox to hear. Vox ignored him. “But as you can see, Adam was very clearly dead. There was very little left of him for any sort of ‘experimentation’ to occur with his body as well. While I didn’t show you the entire grizzly display, I think that should be sufficient enough. However, if you would like to confirm that all parts of him were disposed of, I would be more than happy to show you more if-“

“No!” Shouted Sera. She then continued more subdued and cleared her throat. “No. That won’t be necessary. That was…sufficient.”

Vox gave a low bow and stepped back. “I’m glad I could be of assistance, your holiness.”

Charlie and her father stepped back in front, taking over from Vox. “Well I think there’s no other possible explanation than that Adam was brought back after he died. Brought back as a Sinner,” said Lucifer.

There was a murmur amongst the angels, whispers that were turning into loud conversations. Sera yelled above the rest, banging a gavel onto the table. “Quiet please. Please, we must have silence.”

As they began to quiet down Alastor stepped forward and whispered in Charlie’s ear. “The antidote Charlie. What about the antidote?”

“I know, I know,” she whispered back. “I haven’t forgotten. I promise.”

“Emily, Sera, uhh your holiness’s,” said Charlie, taking a step towards the table. “I know this is all rather shocking, I know I certainly was shocked when Vox told me about Adam’s existence. And I know that this may have larger implications at large for the possibilities of redemption.” Emily and Sera exchanged a look at this. “But please, we asked for this meeting not only because of Adam. But because of my friend, Alastor.” Charlie indicated towards Alastor who stood behind her. All eyes turned towards him. “You see he was hurt in the last extermination, severely.” She did not mention that it was Adam’s doing. “The wound still has not healed though and it’s getting worse.”

“But the extermination was over a month ago. Surely it would not still be so bad, right?” Said Emily with concern and curiosity.

“Angelic weapons are deadly to all Sinners and angels alike. While usually the wound would have healed by now if it was not a fatal wound, the weapon used was laced with poison,” said Charlie.

“Poison?” Gasped Emily. Other angels reacted in surprise as well. Charlie noted that Sera and Lute did not.

Emily turned to Sera in anger. “What other cruelties is our kind responsible for that I’m unaware of?”

“Emily, this is not the time,” said Sera with reproach.

“No! I think this is the perfect time, Sera!” She yelled.

“Poison is the least of what their kind deserves, your holiness,” snarled Lute, glaring at Charlie and the others.

“I cannot believe that!” Said Emily. “These exterminations are barbaric as is but throwing poison laced weapons into the mix which kill their victims slowly, it’s, it’s- it’s demonic!”

Charlie flinched. She knew what Emily was trying to get at but using demons as a comparison was uncalled for.

“That’s exactly my point, your holiness,” said Lute. “The only way to deal with these monsters is to fight fire with fire. Use their own disgusting tactics against them.”

“Now wait just a minute!” Cried Charlie. “Not once has Hell ever attacked Heaven! That has always been you and your kind!”

“Your lot seemed to do a fair bit of attacking in the last extermination!” Shouted Lute.

Charlie cried out in indignation. “Only to defend ourselves! None of your comrades or Adam would have ever been killed if you hadn’t invaded our home!”

“Enough!” Shouted Sera in a booming voice that carried over the rest. A silence befell the room after her outburst, the only sounds being Charlie and Lute’s panting after yelling. “We are not here to discuss the ethics of the extermination, past or future. There are other-“

“Future??” Said Charlie in disbelief. “You can’t seriously be saying after everything that there will be more exterminations??”

“The possibility of any future exterminations is something that is being discussed at great length amongst the angelic court but we have thus far not come to any definitive decision regarding-“

Charlie cut Sera off again. “You can’t be serious?!” Charlie could feel her hair flipping in a non-existent wind, her hidden horns beginning to protrude from her head. A hand at her shoulder, pulling her back, made her slowly emerging demonic form recede.

Charlie turned and saw it was Vox who had pulled her back. He whispered to her urgently, “You need to calm yourself, Princess. You won’t get anywhere by yelling at them.”

“But it’s not fair! What they are doing. I can’t just let them-“

“Fairness is irrelevant. This is Hell. That has no play in any of our lives,” he hissed. “If you want to get what you want you have to be smart. Clever. Charming. You catch far more flies with honey than vinegar,” he said pointedly. “BE your normal friendly self. Be sweet. And be SMART.”

Charlie looked at Vox who wore a stern yet not unkind expression. He squeezed her shoulder. It reminded her of when Vaggie did the same thing before the meeting, offering support. Charlie felt her shoulders begin to relax and lower. Vox gave a small smile at that and took an exaggerated deep breath, indicating to Charlie to do the same thing. She copied him and only released it once he released his.

“Focus on what’s immediately important right now, that we can’t leave here without. All other issues can come with time. You’ve already got your foot in the door for future contact. You’re not going to fix all of Hell’s problems immediately. Rome wasn’t built in a day after all,” he said.

Charlie smiled at that. “Right. Antidote. Adam out of Hell. We got this.” She gave him a firm nod and he gave her a pat on the shoulder. She turned back around and looked to Sera.

“You two done whispering amongst yourselves?” She asked.

“He was only offering advice. I apologize, your holiness, for lashing out. I was out of line,” replied Charlie. She felt like her skin was crawling saying as such but Vox was right, she needed to be calm and cordial to Sera. Even if she really really didn’t want to.

Sera blinked in surprise. “Apology accepted.”

“I understand that the topic of the exterminations is a difficult one, especially with the long history of them being conducted. Perhaps it’s something that Hell could be part of in any future discussions about it.”

Sera gave a contemplative look. “It can be considered.”

“No,” Emily said firmly. “It WILL be considered. I think that Hell has a right to be included in those talks as it concerns them.”

Sera sighed. “As I said, we can discuss it at our next meeting.”

Charlie supposed that was at least a win. Clearly Sera did not want Hell to be part of the talks but Emily did. It was the rest of the court she was unsure of.

“I thank you, your holiness’s. That is most gracious,” said Charlie. “But there is currently a more pressing concern that must be addressed.” Charlie looked at Alastor who looked back at her upon her turn. “He is dying. And he needs your help.” She turned back to the angels. “Vaggie informed me there was an antidote for the poison. He needs it to get better.”

“There’s an antidote?” Asked Emily. “Well of course we should give it to you! It’s the least-“

“Now wait one moment, Emily,” said Sera with a raised hand. “We cannot just give you the cure. Your friend was wounded in a battle between Heaven and Hell. While unfortunate, it is the price of war.”

“War?” Said Lucifer. “So we’re at war now?”

Sera took a deep breath. “I misspoke. We are not at war.”

“Are you sure about that? he replied. “Seems like your lot are debating the merits of having a war with Hell.”

“As said,” Sera said through gritted teeth. “The discussion of the future of the exterminations will be discussed at other future meetings. If we decide the exterminations shall continue it does not mean that there shall be war.”

“Really?” He said in anger. “Because if you do continue the exterminations that’s exactly what you’ll get!”

Gasps and murmurs broke out in the room again. Fear raced through the angels and a look of anger crossed Sera’s face.

Vox stepped forward again, this time urgently grabbing onto Lucifer. “Please, your majesty. Be careful what you say. You’re entering dangerous territory.”

Lucifer pushed off Vox’s hand with force, refusing to back down from his staring match with Sera. Charlie took his place and grabbed her dad’s hand. “Dad please. Listen to Vox. We can’t declare war on Heaven. Please.”

He looked at Charlie before sighing deeply. “Char-Char. You do realize that’s what will happen right? If the exterminations continue?”

“Yes dad but we will cross that bridge when we get to it. Right now we need to focus on everything else,” she said, soothingly.

Her dad nodded. “Fine. But I can’t deal with these bird brains any longer. I’m going to explode if this keeps up.”

She patted his arm. “Just let me take it from here, alright?”

He smiled and nodded. “Sure thing sweetheart.”

Charlie turned back around and gave a small bow. “Please forgive my father, your holiness’s. My father was angry and he lashed out. He is not seriously contemplating war against Heaven.”

“You’re doing a lot of apologizing, Princess Morningstar,” said Sera sternly. “There’s only so much grace I can provide to you if this keeps up.”

Isn’t that your whole thing, she thought. Instead she said, “Of course, your holiness. We understand. We also understand that the topic of the exterminations is for another day. Right now I humbly request the antidote for my friend.”

“Why can’t we give it to them, Sera? It’s only fair to do so when we are still discussing the exterminations. We can’t let an innocent man die while we still debate the ethics of them. He could die before we reach a conclusion,” said Emily.

Sera actually looked contemplative when Adam spoke up for the first time since the recordings. “Innocent? Believe me he’s not innocent.”

“Adam, what the fuck are you doing?” Hissed Vox quietly.

Adam stepped forward and pointed at Alastor. “I’ve heard all manner of terrible things about this guy ever since I got down here. He’s called the Radio Demon and they say he’s a serial killer and a cannibal. The sick freak probably had a bite of my corpse!”

“I did and it was quite disgusting. Not worth my time,” growled Alastor.

“Shut the fuck up!” Vox now hissed at Alastor. “You’re only going to make things worse!”

“See!” Cried Adam. “He’s a disgusting Sinner who doesn’t deserve to live! There’s a reason he’s down here in Hell!”

“And what about you, hhm?” Said Alastor, cocking his head at an unnatural angle. “You’re down here with us. Or have you forgotten what you are, DEMON?”

“Oh why you little piece of shit!” Shouted Adam who strode forward and got up into Alastor’s face. The two snarled at each other but were pulled away from each other by Charlie and Vox.

“The Sinner has a point,” said Sera, looking at Adam. “You are indeed a Sinner yourself now. Fallen. Corrupted.”

Adam looked stricken at such a statement, and Vox didn’t look far off. Oh no, thought Charlie, was Sera not going to take Adam back to Heaven?

“You have a new place in this new life. You no longer belong in Heaven. Your place is here,” she said.

“No!” Cried Lute and Adam in unison.

“But Sera, you can’t!”

“Please, your holiness, don’t do this!”

“I swear I’ll be good! I swear I’ll do better!”

“I’ll do anything! Please just let him come back!”

“Silence!” Bellowed Sera. "That is quite enough! I will not hear anymore of this! You are no longer an angel! Your fate has been decided and you must live with it!"

Adam fell to his knees, crushed at the Seraphim's words. Lute rushed to the others side but was unable to touch him since she was only a projection.

"That's not what you said before," said Emily with scowl.

"Emily. Later," huffed Sera.

"You said that wherever a soul ends up after their first death is where they belonged," continued Emily.

"Emily. Enough."

"You said, that it didn't matter if a soul came back a third time. That if they went to the opposite of where they first ended up it was irrelevant."

"Emily-" Sera was frantically looking between Emily and the residents of Hell.

"Wait what?" said Charlie.

"YOU said that a soul should return to its place of origin. Or do you only think that when it comes to a redeemed soul?" asked Emily, accusingly.

"Emily, stop it!"

"What? What are you saying? Redeemed souls?" asked Charlie, desperatly.

Emily turned to Charlie. "It's true! Oh Charlie your theory is true!"

"EMILY!" shouted Sera, grabbing onto the smaller angel.

"Souls can be redeemed!"

All Hell broke loose in the meeting room. Angel's talked over themselves, an argument ensued between the Seraphim. But Charlie felt frozen to the spot. Redemption was possible? Everything she hoped for was possible? Yes, when she found out Adam had been brought back as a Sinner her dreams seemed closer than ever but even then they felt so far out of reach. But to hear it confirmed by Emily, a Seraphim, it gave her hope.

"But...how?" she asked quietly, her voice getting drowned out by the shouting. "How?" she said louder, but still not loud enough. "HOW?!"

Silence. And then Emily flew over, stopping right in front of her. "It's your friend. Sir Pentious. He's alive! He arrived in Heaven during the extermination when he sacrificed himself to save you. He's alive! And an angel!" Emily was beaming at Charlie, unable to contain her excitement.

Slowly Charlie felt herself return the same smile, laughing at the good news. Charlie tired to reach out and grab ahold of Emily, forgetting that she was just a projection. They froze but then began to laugh together in excitement. Redemption was possible! Sir Pentious was alive!

"You should NOT have revealed that piece of information, Emily. It is a point of topic that needed careful consideration before it was revealed to the masses." Sera's stern face was looking down at Emily and Charlie, disapproving.

"No, Sera. I'm tired of all this secrecy and lies. For things to progress peacefully, honesty must be employed." Emily held her head high. Charlie felt proud of her for standing up to the other.

"Caution and care must be employed before recklessly rushing to any sort of action," countered Sera. "That is why we need to discuss these topics further before we bring it to anyone else."

"Talk, talk, talk. That's all we do! We discuss these things but never come to any sort of conclusion or solution! We can't keep wasting time with these things. Charlie's friend is dying NOW! He needs our help NOW!"

Sera shifted her gaze to Alastor who defiantly stared back. She looked him up and down, assessing. "He appears to be in good enough shape he shall last at least another week."

"Sera!" shouted Emily but Sera held up a hand to silence her.

"Which gives us a week to discuss these matters further. And then we can bring our decision back before Hell." Emily looked thrilled at Sera's decision but Charlie still felt trepidation at such a decision. And Alastor clearly did too.

He growled and stepped forward, his antlers elongating slightly. "A week?! I might not have another week! You base this decision off of a cursory glance at me, insisting I will survive that long. And should I perish before than? Too bad, so sad?" Shadows rolled in from behind him.

Sera narrowed her eyes at him in warning. "You will hold your tongue, Sinner. My decision is final. You are lucky I am giving you this opportunity and agreeing to another meeting so soon. Don't push it, demon."

Charlie watched as Alastor's limbs began to grow, his eyes turning to dials and his smile twisting back. An eerie energy filled the room, causing a chill to wrack through Charlie's body. But as soon as the change appeared, it disappeared. Alastor returned to normal and he clutched at his chest, bending over slightly and winching in pain.

Sera smirked. "Looks like you shouldn't push it for more than one reason, demon."

"Sera. Sera, please," whispered Adam from where he still kneeled. He raised his head up towards Sera with a pleading look. "Let me come back to Heaven. I was your servant. I did your bidding. Please. I beg of you."

Sera stared at the pathetic ex-angel with no sympathy in her eyes. "You are a Sinner now, Adam. You shall remain in Hell." She turned to Emily. "Now I have had enough of this. This meeting is concluded. The next one shall take place at the same time, one week from now."

And without another word, the Heavenly host disappeared.

Charlie was frozen in her spot, staring at where the angel's once were. Redemption, she thought. It was possible. It was real! Sir Pentious was alive!

A loud clang could be heard behind her, startling her out of her stupor. She turned around and saw Vox briskly walking out of the room after throwing the doors open. Charlie quickly decided to follow.

She called to him as they neared the lobby. "Wait Vox! Vox! Hold on!"

"I can't believe you lot!" He grumbled. "Useless! All of you! I can't believe that YOU were the most capable one in there!"

Once they reached the lobby area where Vaggie stood up once she noticed their approach, Charlie grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks. He whirled around and began yelling. "That was an absolute disaster! How could that have gone so badly? I swear, it's like none of you even WANTED any of the things we set out to get! I would have trusted HER," Vox indicated towards Vaggie with his thumb, "more in that room than everyone else. And she's stab happy with her spear!"

He pointed behind Charlie where the others had entered at a more subdued rate. "You!" he cried as he indicated to Alastor. "The fuck was that?? Do you WANT to die? Do you even give a shit if you survive-xxx? What happ-x-ened to the always cool, calm, and collected Radio Demon who doesn't lash out in anger? Oh yeah that's right, he DOESN'T EXIST!!" Glitches plagued his screen and sparks of electricity shot between his antennas.

Before Alastor could respond he rounded on Lucifer. "And you're supposed to be the King of Hel-x-l! You should be better at politics and nnnn-x-ot nearly be declaring WAR on HEAVEN! And mean this with all due respect, your Highness, but what the FUUUUCKKK-XXXXX?!"

"Wait what? War? We're at war?" Vaggie's eye's were wide and horrified. Charlie placed a reasurring hand on her arm. "No no. We're not," she replied.

"We nearly were!" shouted Vox. Lucifer looked sheepish, looking down and rubbing the back of his neck.

"And you, you little shit!" Vox pointed at Adam who until that moment still looked lost. At being addressed he glared at the other. "What pa-x-rt of play nice don't you fucking understand?? If you'd just kept your mouth shut then maybe the Princess and I could have actually convinced the angels to take your so-x-rry ass-xxx back!"

“And what about you?!” Adam was seething. “You were supposed to work your magic and get me into Heaven!”

“Well I was a little busy doing damage control for FOUR idiots who can’t keep their e-xxx-motttions in check!!” Glitches made Vox’s screen fuzzy. Charlie thought it looked almost painful. Was it painful?

“Mmm. Seems a bit like the pot calling the kettle black, my dear,” drawled Alastor.

“Shut up!” He spit out. “At least I’m not losing my cool i-xx-in front of a bunch of angels! Amateurs! All of you!”

Adam strode towards Vox with purpose, pushing him once he was in front of him. Vox stumbled back slightly, eyes wide in shock. Charlie took several steps towards them in concern, raising her hands as if to help but unsure if she should intervene. Adam got into Vox’s face and grabbed ahold of his jacket, pulling him close. “No, no. That ain’t good enough. YOU promised to get me into Heaven!”

“I promised nothing,” said Vox with a hiss.

“It doesn’t matter what you promised! I told you, you better get me in or there would be consequences!” Adam was snarling.

Vox pried Adam’s hands off of him and pushed him back. “Fuck-x you! I’m not scared of you! You’re not as strong as you were when you were an angel. I could wipe the floor with you without breaking a sweat.” Vox smiled at the other with a vicious and predatory smile. It reminded Charlie eerily of a shark.

Adam matched his smile unflinchingly. “You want to test that theory? I’m all for it! But that’s not why you should be afraid. Remember? I know all about you and your little lover boy.”

A spark shot from Vox’s antenna. He scoffed. “You’ve been in our house for a week. I don’t know what you th-x-think you know but you don’t know shit.”

Adam got close to Vox again, sneering at the other. “Oh I know a LOT more than you think I do.” Adam leaned close to Vox’s ear. Charlie took a half a step closer when Vox didn’t move. It was only due to her close proximity that she was able to hear when Adam whispered, “I know your secret.”

Adam leaned slowly back and looked at Vox. Charlie felt startled at the look on his face. He looked…horrified. Stunned. Afraid.

Adam brought a slow moving hand up to Vox’s neck, barely touching it before Vox jumped back as if he had been stabbed. Adam clearly found this response amusing. Charlie, however, was only concerned.

“You do-xxxx-n’t knoooo-xx-w shit-x!” The repeated response sounded weak to everyone present.

Adam laughed. “I told you, wires. You’re not as good of a liar as you think you are.” He began to walk away, towards the buildings exit. “I’ll be seeing you at home! I hope you can find a solution to our little predicament soon! It would just be a shame if you didn’t!”

Vox stared wide-eyed where Adam had left, not moving an inch besides his heaving chest and slightly shaking hands. Charlie hesitantly reached out but didn’t touch. “Vox? Vox are you alright?” There was no response. She placed a gentle hand on his arm, causing him to jump and turn to her. He looked like a cornered and injured wild animal. It was unnerving. “Vox are you alright?”

Without a word he strode out of the building, leaving the same way Adam had.

There was a pause and then Vaggie said, “Uhhh, is someone going to explain to me what the Hell is going on?”

Charlie looked at those left behind and noticed Alastor still looking towards the exit. His ears were drawn back slightly with a pinched look. Was he concerned for Vox? Confused maybe by what just happened? She knew she certainly was.

Charlie quickly moved to follow Vox. Once outside she looked around frantically until she spotted Vox striding quickly towards his limousine. “Vox! Vox! Wait! Hold on, please! Vox!” She ran after him, shouting all the while with no response. Once she reached his side she jumped in front of him, blocking his path.

“Vox, just wait a moment, please. I know that that meeting could have gone WAY better and I’m so sorry for that but there’s still hope! After everything we learned! And they agreed to a second meeting! Isn’t that great!”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s wonderful for you. But I don’t really give a shit right now,” he said as he tried to side step her but Charlie moved to block his path once more.

“Vox, please. I know things could have gone a lot better and that makes me super concerned for the next meeting, my meetings with Heaven just never seem to go well, that’s why I need you! I need your help in these meetings because you seem to be the only one who knows what they are doing!”

Vox barked out a laugh that sounded slightly unhinged. “You could say that again! Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go!”

Again Vox attempted to walk around her but Charlie stubbornly blocked his way. Sparks shot between his antennas and a glitch distorted his face. “Vox, just wait. Talk to me. What was that with Adam?”

More sparks. “That is no-x-no-x-nothing. Now please, move!”

“It sure didn’t look like nothing. Vox.” She stepped closer and he stepped back. “I heard what he whispered to you.” He made panicked eye-contact. “What did he mean by that?”

Vox shook his head back and forth, opening his mouth but no sound came out besides glitching noises. “Vox,” she said in as soothing of a voice as she could. “It’s ok. I only want to help. You can trust me.”

Vox stared at her, disbelieving.

“Vox, if you’re in trouble, the hotel is open to you.” Vox allowed her to touch him that time, flinching only slightly. “We would welcome you with open arms.”

He stared down at her hand where it lay on his upper arm for a long moment before he looked into her eyes. She offered a small yet reassuring smile. He scrunched up his eyebrows and cocked his head slightly to the side. “You truly do mean that, don’t you?”

Instead of waiting for a response Vox gently pulled Charlie’s hand from his arm and side stepped her, this time she allowed it. He took the last couple of steps towards his limousine, Charlie’s hope for connection dwindling. He stopped right before the door, placing a hand on the door handle. Not turning around he said, “I’ll be in contact about the next meeting. Next time, leave your dad and Alastor out of the meeting. If you want to make any grounds it’s going to be just me and you in there. Too many other people and there becomes too many unpredictable factors to control.”

Charlie was beaming. “Really?? Oh thank you, thank you, thank you! You won’t regret this! Thank you!”

Charlie heard Vox mutter under his breath “I already do”, but Charlie chose to take her win and didn’t comment. Instead she took a deep breath to calm herself and then said in a far more subdued, yet still thrilled tone of voice, “Thank you, Mr. Vox. Your help will be greatly appreciated. I look forward to doing business with you.”

Vox snorted. “Yeah, sure kid. Whatever you say.” With that he then opened the door and got inside. Charlie stood there enthusiastically waving as he drove away.

She felt herself wilt slightly, thinking back to Vox’s clearly panicked response to Adam. He had said he wasn’t afraid of Adam but that was a lie. What secret could Adam be talking about? Charlie didn’t know but she knew he was in some sort of trouble. She only hoped she could offer him a safe place to get away from whatever it was and maybe even help him trust her and the others. She itched to follow after him, insist that she could help, but she knew from recent experience that constantly pushing wouldn’t help others. She just needed to let her actions speak louder than words and show Vox he could trust her. He would then come to her in time. She just knew it.

Charlie heard doors open behind her and saw Vaggie exit, walking towards her. At the sight of her girlfriend she couldn’t help but be immediately reminded of the good news. Redemption was possible! Sir Pentious was alive! She rushed to the other and excitedly launched into a tirade about everything that had happened while Vaggie listened with rapt attention. Her worries about Vox were temporarily forgotten.

Meanwhile, as Vox drove away back to his tower, all he could think about was the foolishly happy and sincere Princess and her offer of asylum. If only it were possible.

Notes:

Again, please go check out ShimNam's (@NaroJunipo on Twitter) animatic. It's great!

https://twitter.com/NaroJunipo/status/1786867203788194121?s=19

As always, stay tuned for the next chapter!

Chapter 10: A Secret Revealed

Summary:

It's 1922, the President has given the first presidential radio broadcast, and Xavier and Olivia find a solution to dealing with their fathers outbursts. In the present, Vox and Adam strike a deal.

Notes:

Welp, I'm sorry for the wait. If it's any consolation this is a rather long chapter!

Also, as some of you may notice, and as I've contemplated in a former chapter, the title of this story has changed and it is now part of a series. The title is a reference to Frank Sinatra's song of the same name, as is the series title. Future installments will also be continuing with the theme of Frank Sinatra song titles. I've thought of making this a three-part series with the other stories also being multi-chaptered stories. This story isn't even halfway through so we've got a ways to go. I might be biting off more than I can chew here, what with being slow going in my writing. But I hope that I will do it justice.

I've gotta say, I was not expecting people to be so thrilled at Vox's outburst on everyone. I guess everyone found it cathartic just as Vox did. I mean it felt cathartic in a way when writing it! Also, wasn't expecting everyone to be so pissed at Alastor's behavior after the last chapter. I guess I've been making him too mean? The guy IS having a rough go of it right now. The threat of dying, permanently, tends to make people irrational. I hope I can gain him some more sympathy in the coming chapters. Next chapter I'm hoping to have a split POV between Vox and Alastor and then the chapter after will be another Alastor centric one.

Finally, the wonderful ShimNam (@NaroJunipo on Twitter) has done another fanart from the previous chapter of Vox's little outburst. Please go check it out along with the animatic they have done previously!

https://twitter.com/NaroJunipo/status/1791297758508572897?s=19

https://twitter.com/NaroJunipo/status/1786867203788194121?s=19

TW for this chapter: period typical homophobia, brief anti-Semitic language/views, violence amongst family members, thoughts of self-harm, strangulation (hhm, I've put that warning a lot in this fic, there's a lot of characters grabbing at other's throats, I think that's partly because of the importance of Vox's neck and what happened to him in the past so maybe I'm just subconsciously writing strangulation stuff now...)

1922

Xavier lay on the cold concrete floor as he gazed up at the underside of an automobile above him, working away at it. His hands were stained black, with various smudges littering his face and arms. In the background, Xavier listened to a radio softly playing a sweet love song.

"When you smile, I'm in heaven it's true. Cuddle closer do, angel child, I'm just putting it mild, when I say that I'm wild about you," sung Al Jolson. It was a new song by him that the radios loved to play. Xavier absentmindedly hummed along to the song as he worked. As the song came to a close, Alastor's voice could be heard speaking over the radio.

"And that's Al Jolson's newest song, Angel Child, that is making quite the stir across the nation. He's not the only one, for just the other night, President Harding made history by being the first president to make a radio broadcast, addressing the nation at the dedication of the Lincoln Memorial in D.C.! I hear that his enunciation was excellent and rhythmic cadence made him quite suited to broadcasting! I hope he doesn't put me out of a job because his presidency leaves much to be desired!" Alastor's chipper laughter filtered through the radio as Xavier crawled out from underneath the automobile to listen. He grabbed a dirty rag and whipped his hands and face, doing very little to to get rid of the stains. Xavier used the same rag to turn up the volume so he could listen before throwing it over his shoulder.

"All jokes aside, this is a historic day for radio, something that I'm sure will make so many others realize the true potential of radio and all it has to offer. I just can't wait to see what happens next!" he cried in enthusiastic cheer. "Now, on a more somber note, there's been reports of New Orleans very own Smiling Killer having taken yet another victim this past week-"

Xavier let the morbid story fade to the back of his mind as he thought more about the presidential broadcast. It made him excited at such a prospect. Technology was coming such a long way and it made him excited just like Alastor. To think of all the possibilities! They were endless.

A loud curse cried out behind him accompanied by the dropping of a toolbox. Xavier turned around and saw one of his coworkers clutching his hand as he jumped up in pain. Xavier rushed to his side and looked at his hand. There was some blood coming from one of the older mans fingers but not a lot of it.

"Goddamit!" shouted the burly man. "I done slipped when trying to take off a lugnut and scrapped my finger all to Hell! Dammit!"

Xavier rushed to grab a clean rag and threw it at the man who grabbed it gratefully to hold against the bleeding finger. "It doesn't look th-th-that bad," said Xavier. "Just hold that there and it'll stop."

"Ahhh shut it, Xavier. That racket from your dang radio distracted me and now look what happened!" More curses were thrown out as the man peeled the rag away to look at the cut.

"Oh hush now, David," drawled another man from an open office door. A pair of glasses perched on the leaner mans nose as he looked over some paperwork. "Don't go blaming your clumsiness on the kid."

"He's always fiddling with that thing! Can't get no peace and quiet around here!" grumbled the still bleeding man. Xavier awkwardly stood by and then rushed to turn down the radio in order to hopefully appease David.

The man from the office sighed and lend back while he took his glasses from his face. "We can't get any peace and quiet because of your yapping all the time. At least Xavier's radio provides us with some pleasant music and news."

David scoffed. "News about some sadistic killer on the loose. Ain't nobody wants to hear about that stuff!"

The man in the office got to his feet and strolled to the office's threshold, giving an unimpressed look at David. "A killer in New Orleans. I think you'll be fine. And that's not the only thing his little radio show he likes to listen to reports on. Or weren't you listening?"

"Yeah, yeah," grumbled David. "Some big important presidential broadcast. Big whoop. Not like radios actually going to take off or anything."

The other man gave a mocking smile. "That's what you said about the automobile and now look at ya'. Working as an automechanic."

"Ahhh that's because you drug me into this damn profession, Jo. You know I would have much rather been workin' some farm," he huffed.

Jo laughed at the other. "If only that were true. You hate workin' the field. You said as such since we were kids and your daddy made you wake up at the crack of dawn to tend to the animals."

"Fuck them chickens," David grumbled. "Always peckin' at my hands. And here I am now gettin' cuts from these damn contraptions all the time."

Jo gave a soft chuckle at the other and patted him on the shoulder affectionately. "Go clean up that hand of yours. Xavier will finish up with this job."

David growled under his breath as he walked away, muttering, "He better. Damn kids fault in the first place."

As David walked away Jo shook his head in amusement and then turned to Xavier who nervously looked at the other. Jo patted his shoulder too, squeezing in reassurance. "You know David doesn't mean anything by his yellin'. He just gets worked up sometimes. He doesn't truly blame you for his own stupidity."

Xavier shrugged and mindlessly messed with the dirty rag he had previously thrown over his shoulder. "I kn-n-now my fiddddling annoys him. I know a l-l-lot of what I do annnnnoys him." His damned stutter began showing through more in his anxiousness.

Jo waved his hand in dismissal. "Pay him no mind, Xavier. He's all talk. That man adores you the same as I do. We want the world for you, son. That fiddlin' and tinkerin' is all part of that big curious mind of yours." Jo tapped at Xavier's forehead lightly. "He doesn't actually want you to stop. His temper just gets the best of him sometimes."

Xavier thought of his father in that moment and how he too would always allow his temper to get the best of him. Unlike his father, however, David never once turned physically violent with him or others. Xavier was appreciative of that at least. And despite being shouted at on the daily by David, he always made sure to take the time to teach him about automobiles or made him eat something, grumbling about how skinny Xavier was. It felt more warm then his own father's interactions with him. David and Jo both.

Jo watched Xavier as he started picking up the overturned tools. He nodded towards the radio that had started playing music again. The radio was one of the many that Xavier had taken to fixing up using various parts. Jo appreciated the addition to the shop, stating it brought life to his and David's business. "What do you think of that? The first presidential broadcast."

Xavier shrugged, attempting to put on an air of nonchalance. "It's interesting I suppose. There's gotta be a f-f-first time for everything."

"Come now kid, I know it excites you. You love those radios of yours. From what I hear the president is quite a fan of the advancement of technology, just like you." Jo casually leaned against the wall, watching Xavier.

He stood up with the now full tool box, unable to keep the small smile from his lips. "What? You comparing me to the president now?"

Jo barked out a laugh. "And what if I am? I've always said you're meant for big things, kid. Says who the oval office ain't it?"

Xavier rolled his eyes in disbelief. "Yeah. Right."

"I'm serious, Xavier. I mean maybe not politics but you're a brainiac. You're meant for more than this pathetic little Mississippi town."

Xavier put the tool box on a shelf and threw the dirty rag on top of it. The sentiment made him think of Victor, causing him to frown. His brother had so many grand plans for the three of them. It all seemed silly and unreachable now. Xavier just wanted to keep his head down and work hard and hopefully fly under the radar of his father's wrath.

Ever since Victor had died his father seemed to fall even further into his drinks. While Xavier used to be the only one who usually drew the ire from his father, since then Olivia and their mother hadn't gone without punishment. Xavier knew his sister was still sporting a black and blue handprint on her upper arm from being grabbed too hard when she mouthed off at him during dinner a couple days prior.

Shame flooded his face at the memory. When his father began yelling, Xavier felt frozen to his seat, unable to come to his sisters aid. She assured him later that it wasn't his fault and that she was the older sibling so it was her responsibility to take care of him, not the other way around. Still, it didn't make him feel any better at his lack of action. Rage simmered just below the surface at the memory.

Xavier startled slightly at the hand on his shoulder. He turned his head and was met with Jo's concerned expression. "You alright, son?"

Xavier tried to give a reasurring smile. "Offff course." He knew he failed at Jo's knowing look. A distant muffled curse could be heard from the direction of their restroom. Jo looked over his shoulder and sighed.

Jo looked back at Xavier and then the automobile that David had been working on. "Go ahead and finish on up with that, will ya? I'll go sort out the whinner."

Xavier felt like his smile was genuine that time but he let it fall as Jo retreated. Xavier busied himself with working on the vehicle to distract himself from thoughts of his brother and father. The sounds of the music and quiet conversation from the restroom filled the air as he finished what David had been doing previously. As he finished, he heard muffled laughter and turned to look at the cracked restroom door. In the reflection of the mirror he saw Jo looking at David with a soft smile. David looked as grumpy as he always did as he looked at his now wrapped hand. Jo brushed some stray strands of hair from David's eyes, rubbing a thumb tenderly against his cheek.

Xavier felt his cheeks flush and then he dropped the wrench he was holding, causing it to loudly clatter to the ground. He cursed as he looked to the ground and looked up frantically, locking eyes with Jo in the mirror. Xavier ducked down and quickly grabbed the wrench, rushing to a shelf to put it away. He felt his hands shaking, causing even more noise as he put the wrench away.

He sensed more than heard as Jo approached him from behind. Xavier was attempting to make himself look busy but knew he was just moving various items around with no real goal. He didn't turn around even as he heard Jo clear his throat. "You sure you're alright, Xavier?"

"Mhmm," he said, coming out a little high. "O-uuuufff c-k-k-course, Josef. Fine." He gave a weak smile at Jo, hoping to make the other think he hadn't seen anything. Jo locked eyes with him, searching his face. Xavier felt frozen yet again, unable to turn away. Whatever Josef was looking for he either seemed to find it or he too wished to act as if nothing had happened. He smiled at Xavier and gently patted his upper arm.

"Why don't you go home early, hhm? David and I got everything here taken care of," he said casually.

"You sssssure?" asked Xavier.

He nodded. "Yeah. It's gettin' towards the end of your shift anyways. You go home and spend time with your family. Give our love to that sweet sister of yours."

Xavier tried to hide his relief and nodded back. "Th-th-thanks Josef, sir. I appreciate it."

Xavier quickly grabbed his belongings, giving a half-hearted and rushed 'goodbye' to David who emerged from the restroom. Xavier could hear him grouch out a confused "What's the matter with him?" to Jo.

His mind began running a mile a minute, thinking through what he saw. It was nothing, he told himself. While another part, that sounded like his father, told him he knew exactly what it looked like. So often Xavier had heard whispers around town about the queer Jews who ran the automobile shop. He heard enough of his father badmouthing them ever since he took a job working there two years back. It had taken a lot of convincing to get his father to let him work there. In the end, his need to constantly resupply his personal bar was what convinced his father to let him work for Josef and David, the added income to the household helping with that. Only Olivia knew of the secret stash of money under his bedroom floorboards that about half of his pay went into. After all, she had her own secret stash as well.

The two had seemed like an odd, yet harmless, pair when he first met them. One stout and irritable while the other was thin and reserved. Josef took a liking to Xavier almost immediately, enjoying his equally inquisitive mind. David, while far more standoffish, seemed to enjoy Xavier's quick and eager-to-learn mindset. Both were middle-aged bachelors who had been friends since childhood. Xavier never thought much about their bachelor status until now.

No, it was just a touch to a friends face. A gentle caress, if he thought too hard about it.

Xavier's hands felt sweaty and shaky. His breaths felt like they were coming too quickly as he quickly walked down the street. He looked at his hands and realized how filthy they were. Usually he would wash up before leaving work, knowing that his mother hated when he came home with so much grime.

He didn't understand why this had thrown him so off kilter. The touch to David's face didn't really even mean much. No, it was the look on Josef's face. The tenderness. The affection. The patience and warmth. It bleed through to all of Josef's actions towards David. The way he spoke to him. The way he spoke OF him. But it wasn't just Josef. No one could ever calm David like Josef could. No one could ever make David's face soften the way Josef did. There had been secret looks Xavier had seen exchanged between the two. Looks that he was sure they had never realized he had seen.

Had anyone else noticed? They had to have otherwise why would there be rumors over there being something more going on between the two circulating through the town.

What did this mean for Xavier? What did this mean for Josef and David? Surely it meant nothing as long as Xavier didn't say anything to anyone else. But should he keep this to himself? If they were doing what he thought they were then it was an abomination. That's what his father always said. That's what Father Michael and the congregation at church always said. A sin against God.

Xavier froze in his tracks. His rapid breaths caught in his throat, causing a burning sensation in his chest. He clutched at his dirty shirt, stumbling slightly as he thrust his arm out to support himself against a nearby tree. The already hot late spring day felt suffocating in its heat.

He didn't want to tell anyone. He wanted to keep Josef and David's secret, if there even was one. He told himself he didn't actually know anything. No one did; it was all mere speculation. What was the point in wrecking two good men's lives just because the town was thirsty for a scandal. That was all this was. A boring little Mississippi town desperate for some drama to make their lives more interesting amongst the animal shit and stench from the factory.

He made himself take deep breaths to calm his nerves, hiding out underneath the shelter and shade created by the tree. Xavier always felt overheated after work, even in the dead of winter due to the work he did underneath the hot automobiles. That's the only reason why sweat rolled down his back and neck, making his shirt cling to his skin. There was no other reason he told himself.

The rest of his walk home was uneventful. He distracted himself with thoughts of Alastor's radio show and the news of the first presidential broadcast. As interesting as it was, the story of the latest victim of the Smiling Killer offered far more of an all consuming distraction that he wanted. What number was the killer at now? 10? 11? He couldn't remember. It didn't matter though for the thoughts of victims being found in alleyways with a smile carved into their faces was enough to carry him home without any further thought to other unsavory topics.

As he arrived home he opened the front door and attempted to make his way quietly inside, unsure of what he would be walking into. When no sudden outbursts arose he felt it safe to proceed. He made his way into the kitchen and found his mother there, making dinner. He walked inside to wash his hands, hearing a low grumble from his mother. "You smell disgusting. Did you even wash up before leaving work?"

"Thought I'd get home early. W-w-wash up here," he said.

She huffed. "Well then go take a shower instead of wastin' my water by washing your hands. Your father will be home soon." She didn't actually know that. Neither one of them knew that with his father. He could be home any time after work, whether that be right afterwards or well into the early hours of the morning from a night of drinking. They never knew what day would be worse for him or when he would be home. They learned long ago to at least expect him immediately after work because not being prepared for him always had consequences.

Xavier didn't respond. Instead walking out of the kitchen without his mother so much as looking at him. She hardly ever did. But then again she hardly ever looked at anyone anymore after Victor. Hell, even before Victor.

His shower felt wonderful against his oily and hot skin. It felt like it was washing away so much of his worries from the day. Too soon it ended and he exited the bathroom to change into a clean pair of clothing.

As he pulled on a fresh shirt he heard a loud clang from downstairs as the front door opened. His father was home. He heard the man shuffle around downstairs, speaking loudly to his mother. Xavier decided to hide out in his room for as long as possible so as not to face the man. He laid back on his bed while opening his school bag. School was almost over for the year with one more week before summer break. He had one more year left before he graduated and he was looking forward to it. The possibilities were endless for his future once he was done with school. He might even be able to find a way out of this shit hole of a town if he worked hard enough. He thought of Victor and his lofty dreams and how ridiculous it all seemed.

He worked on his school work as he sat against his headboard, drowning everything out when finally his door opened. He startled and looked up, relaxing when he saw his sister. Olivia walked inside his room, closing the door, and flopping onto his bed at his feet with a sigh. She closed her eyes with her arms spread out wide, dangling her feet over the side of his bed.

"Long day?" he asked.

She groaned. "Oh you have no idea. Mr. Fredricks came in again today, complimented me on my 'shapely figure'. He sat there for three hours before he finally left!"

Xavier grimaced. "What a creep. You'd think he'd be more discrete what with having a wife and kids and all."

Olivia barked out a humorless laugh. "Ha! I wish! Then I wouldn't have to pretend as much to enjoy his advances just because the man owns half of the county and Tom wants me to appease him. Fucking Tom."

"Fucking Tom," echoed Xavier.

"I swear," continued Olivia as she raised one arm out above her, pointing at the ceiling. "Someday I'm going to quit that damn waitressing job and tell Tom HE should be the one to put on a skirt and heels and whoo every middle-aged cheating dirt bag who passes through here or lives in this county. I swear, if Tom thought he could get away with it he'd be selling me in the back alleyway so some pervert could get their rocks off."

"Olivia!" cried Xavier in shock and affront but couldn't help but laugh too.

"Oh don't you give me that. You know that Tom's just as much a dirty little man as every other man out there. I'm telling you, he'd sell my body if I let him," she said in a joking manner as she turned her head to look at her brother.

Xavier shook his head in disbelief. "I'll have you know, Tom Smith is an upstanding member of our community who is a business man and consummate Christian. He would NEVER think to do something like that."

The siblings stared at each other for a long moment before both burst into laughter. They both knew what sort of degenerate Olivia's boss was, along with most of the town.

"If only that were true." Olivia sighed in defeat. "It would make my job so much easier. He's not like your bosses. Or you know, at least Josef."

"Don't let father hear you say that," said Xavier, looking back at his school work. "He would hate to hear you speak any sort of praise for the 'Jew'."

Olivia groaned. "Josef is one of the few people in this Hell hole who is worth talking to, I swear. I don't care what sort of prejudices father has."

"Of which he has plenty," mumbled Xavier quietly but still loud enough for Olivia to hear.

Olivia pushed herself up on one elbow, looking at her brother while he scribbled away in his notebook. "You like Josef, yeah? You seemed to have taken a shine to him."

Xavier gulped, nervous at the question. He raised one shoulder in nonchalance. "H-h-he's alright."

Olivia scowled at the stutter. He rarely stuttered around her anymore. Everyone else was a different story. "Did he do something? Is everything alright? I swear, if he did something I'm going to rip his-"

Xavier cut her off with a wave of his hands as he cried, "No! No. Nothing happened. He's fine. I promise. You don't h-h-have to worry."

Olivia's eye's narrowed further. "I don't believe you. Something happened." She sat up and grabbed his arm. "Tell me!"

"No!"

"You have something to say, I know it!"

"N-n-n-n-nothing's happened!"

"Bullshit!" she cried.

"I'm telling the trrrruth!"

"No you aren't! Tell me!"

"Ok!" he cried, unable to resist his sister. "Ok." He held his hands up in defeat.

She waited patiently for him to collect himself, knowing that he would tell her since he had acquiesced. He nervously fiddled with the sheets of his bed, running his fingers back and forth over the fabric, picking at a loose thread.

"I, uhh. I s-s-saw him and Dddddavid," he struggled out.

"Yeah. I assume you see them most days when you go to work," said Olivia as if Xavier was stupid.

He gave an annoyed groan. "Nooo! I SAW them." He gave her a pointed look, hoping his meaning got across. Her furrowed eyebrows revealed she did not.

"Yeah, no kidding," she drawled.

"Ugh!" he rolled his eyes at her. "Nooo!! I SAW them. In the restroom. Together!"

He looked at her again with wide-eyes and watched as realization slowly came to her. Her eye's also got wide, matching her brother's expression. "Oh. Oh!" she cried. Xavier nodded his head, relieved she had finally understood.

"You actually saw them? You saw them actually-! You know?!" she threw her hand out and waved it as if the vague gesture would convey her meaning.

Xavier frantically waved his own hands back and forth in the negative. "No! Nooo!! I didn't see them - you know, do th-th-th-THAT!"

"Then what did you see them do?" she cried in exasperation.

"Just-" he shrugged. "David hurt himself and went to the restroom to fix it. And Josef went in after him and the d-d-d-door wasn't closed all the way so I was able to peak in there and then Josef was there TOUCHING David's face!"

Olivia stared at him for several long moments. "That's it. You saw him touch David's face?"

Xavier nodded. Then Olivia grabbed a pillow from the bed and began hitting Xavier. "You idiot! You got me worked up for nothing! Who cares if he touched David's face?"

"No you don't understand! It's how he did it! And the look he gave David!" He threw his arms out in front of his head to protect himself from the assault. Olivia finally put the pillow down in her lap and glared at him.

"How did he look at David?" she reluctantly asked.

He shrugged. "I don't know. Smitten?"

Olivia rolled her eyes. "Oh Xavier-"

He cut her off. "AND he brushed David's hair back when he did it, and rubbed his thumb on his cheek."

At that Olivia looked contemplative. She crossed her arms. "Show me?"

Xavier sighed but he adjusted himself closer to Olivia. He then did his best at trying to replicate the look and motion that he saw Josef do to David, but this time to Olivia. At the gentle stroke of his thumb against her cheek she cried out. "Ew! Gross! Don't touch me like that!"

"You asked!" he tried defending himself.

"You're my brother though! Only lovers do that to each other!" she began rubbing at her cheek as if to whip away dirt.

"That's exactly my point!"

Once she was done rubbing her cheek she leaned against the wall Xavier's bed was pushed up against. "Well. I guess you have a point." Xavier leaned himself back against his headboard and nodded. His stomach felt like it was in knots now from having someone else tell him that his assumptions seemed to be correct. "They really shouldn't have been doing that there." Xavier gulped. His knots felt as if they only got worse at her statement but he didn't understand why. She was right. If the rumors were true, what was going on between Josef and David was a sin.

"I mean anyone could have just walked right into the shop and seen them. They're lucky someone like father didn't catch them. They'd be in a LOT of trouble right now. Thankfully it was just you who saw them. They need to be more careful next time," she casually said.

"Wait what?" he said. "N-n-n-next time??"

"Yeah. I mean if they're going to be all lovey-dovey at work they need to really make sure the door is closed first. I mean honestly," she said with exasperation.

"Olivia!" he cried, scandalized.

"What?" she said defensively. "They need to be more discreet!"

"That's not what I m-m-meant! They shouldn't be doing any of that at alllll!" he shouted.

She sighed. "Yeah I know. I just said work really isn't the place for that. If they really want to be careful they should just do it at home."

Xavier's heart was beating fast. Was she being serious? "You can't be suggggggesting what they're doing, what they ARE, is o-o-ok?"

Olivia looked at him with furrowed eyebrows. "You can't mean that."

He scoffed. "You can't mean what y-y-you said!" Olivia looked so surprised. Xavier couldn't stand it. It made him angry. "Th-th-they're unnatural! They're wrong! They're queers!!" he shouted. He was panting at his outburst; his hands shaking. Olivia's expression slowly morphed into one that appeared sad. Like she felt sorry for him. He didn't understand why.

"Xavier," she said slowly, scooting closer to him. She placed a gentle hand on his leg, making him tense up. "Do you really think that?"

Xavier was confused by her question. Of course he thought that. How couldn't he? He gulped and nodded. "O-o-o-o-of cccccourse."

Olivia tilted her head, frowning. She looked pained. Her gaze made him feel uncomfortable, like she was staring into his soul. "Xavier," she rubbed his leg soothingly. He wanted to push it off yet couldn't bring himself to do it. "You sure that's not just dad's voice in your head telling you all that?"

He shrugged, averting his gaze, unable to keep eye contact any longer. "Even if it is, doesn't m-m-mean he's wrong."

"Like he's ever actually right." She gave a humorless laugh.

Xavier sighed. "I-i-it's not just him. Everyone thinks that. Father Michael says-"

"Fuck what Father Michael says," she said with venom, cutting him off. Xavier gasped. "I don't care what the church or the Bible says. I don't think that way," she said, far more gently. Her voice was unwavering. It made Xavier turn to look at her. She was still staring at him with a hard expression. It made him unable to speak. Did she really think that way?

"B-b-but why?" he said, barely above a whisper.

She looked at him, wounded. She reached her hand up and placed it on his cheek. "Oh Xavier. You really don't know, do you?"

He stared at her, mouth moving but unable to form words. A knock at the door startled both of them. "Dinner!" said their mother. Her footsteps could be heard retreating down the hall without waiting for an answer.

The moment shattered, Xavier quickly got to his feet. He felt like he needed to escape but from what exactly he was not sure. "Xavier wait!" his sister cried. He stopped at the door, hand on the doorknob. He looked at her, unsure of what she would say next. They stared at each other for several seconds. It was clear she wasn't sure either what she was going to say. She finally sighed and got to her feet. "Come. We mustn't leave mother waiting. Nor father."

The two exited the room and made their way downstairs, to the dining room. Their mother busied herself at the table, placing food on it to be served. Their father sat at the head of the table too, visibly drunk. He was mumbling and ranting about some coworker at the factory. It was clear their mother wasn't fully paying attention but it's not like he was looking for a response, just someone to rant to.

The siblings silently took their seats at the table, starting to serve themselves. Their father's plate had already been served, curtesy of their mother. The only conversation that filled the air was the one-sided ramblings from their father who barely ate, instead serving himself more liquor. There was a pause in his speech as whatever story he had been telling came to an end, but no one filled the silence except for the sounds of silverware scrapping against plates.

Xavier could feel his father's gaze on him, resolute even as the old man took another sip from his glass, ice clinking. He forced himself to not look up, instead he continued to eat. He hoped that if he kept his head down, the ire of his father would remain on his coworkers and not pivot to him. However, like most nights, he wasn't so lucky.

"You got filth on you," grumbled his father. Xavier swallowed thickly. "Right behind your ear."

He reached up and rubbed behind his ear, looking at his fingers when he pulled away. There was a little bit of grime from work still there. "Disgusting," said his father. Nevermind that his father had yet to shower since coming home from work himself, dirt and odor still clinging to him.

"I told him to wash up," said his mother unhelpfully, staring down at her plate.

"Seems the boy didn't listen," said his father.

Xavier speared a piece of meat on his fork. "I t-t-took a shower. I just missed a spot," he said quietly.

"The boy can't speak. And the boy can't bathe now either. Pathetic," he spat out. "Guess a shower wouldn't do much good anyways to get the true filth off ya being in a place like that." Xavier fidgeted in his seat, uncomfortable with his father's turn in conversation so soon after his conversation with his sister and what he had witnessed earlier. He wished his father would just continue to drunkenly rant about his work. "They gettin' their filth on ya? Them queers? It's bad enough they're damn jews, but they're out their livin in sin too."

Xavier took a tentative sip of his water, giving him an excuse not to answer.

"You don't know that, father. They're just business partners is all," said Olivia. Xavier finally looked up, staring at her in disbelief. Not at the lie they both knew was untrue, but at her daring to defend David and Josef to their fathers face, especially when he was looking for a fight. What was she thinking?

Their father whipped his head around at her, slamming his hand on the table, startling everyone. "The fuck are you thinking, girl? Don't tell me you're one of them too! I will NOT abide having a homosexual in my house!" Xavier shivered.

Olivia looked into their father's eyes, steadfast. "No, father. Of course not. I'm just saying that you don't actually know much about Josef and David other than they're friends and business partners."

Their father was seething. "You think I'm blind, girl?! You think I don't see the evil right before my eyes? I know what they are!"

His sister narrowed her eyes and tilted her head. Xavier knew that look and knew that it meant bad news. "You sure about that? Because it seems that you look in the mirror every morning and are ignorant of what's right in front of you."

Silence.

Everyone was frozen.

And then all Hell broke loose.

His father threw his glass across the table, slamming against the wall behind Olivia who was sitting there startled. Their father's chair scrapped across the floor as he stood, falling to the ground with a loud crash. Silverware and plates clanged against the table as he slammed his hands against the table, leveraging himself up to shoot around the table towards Olivia. Their mother cried out in a rare show of opposition against their father, shouting at him to stop. Xavier, however, was still frozen.

It wasn't until their father had ahold of the front of Olivia's dress, lifting her from her chair, eye's filled with fear and desperation while she clung to their father's wrist, did Xavier move. A loud shattering of glass could be heard smashing against their father's skull. He cried out in pain and released Olivia. Their mother and Olivia turned towards Xavier who was standing, panting as he stared wild-eyed at their father. Their father clutched at his now bleeding head.

Their father turned towards Xavier with an accusatory, yet unfocused, look. "The fuck?!" Blood trickled down his face. "I'll kill you, you little shit!" He lunged towards Xavier, tripping and knocking several items on the table to the floor. Glasses and plates shattered. Xavier took off like an animal in fright. Shouts followed him as he ran up the stairs.

He slammed his bedroom door, breaths coming fast. Seconds after he had closed his door it opened again and he whirled around. His sister stepped through the door, quickly closing it behind her and locking it. She rushed to him, clutching his hands desperately. "You have to leave!"

"B-b-b-b-b-but-" He could hardly get ahold of his stutter.

"Now! He you have to go to Josef and David's shop. I'll meet you there later."

Pounding could be heard at the door. "B-b-but what abbbbbout youuuu?"

"Don't worry about me. You're the one he want's to kill," she put her palm to his cheek, holding it tenderly. She said in a far more calm voice. "Trust me. I'll be fine."

Xavier didn't know if he did trust her. The last time he had trusted someone like that, his brother had never came home. Another pounding could be heard, this time with the accompanying sounds of wood creaking. He didn't think his doorframe would hold.

Without another thought he rushed to his window, opening it and hoisting himself over the ledge. He took one last look at his sister who smiled at him and urged him on before he let go, jumping to the ground. His ankles groaned at the impact and stumbled, falling over, and rolling across the lawn. A loud bang could be heard from his bedroom, signaling his fathers entrance. Without looking back Xavier got to his feet, limping slightly before he was able to find his stride.

Shouts of rage followed him as he ran.

___________________

Vox anxiously bounced his leg up and down as he sat at his desk staring vacantly at his computer monitor. All the words and numbers seemed to blend together into an incoherent mess, escaping his comprehension.

He was exhausted. He hadn’t gotten any sleep the past two nights, instead laying awake in his bed each night, waiting in anticipation for Valentino to come bursting through his bedroom door in a rage. After the meeting, he was sure that Adam would have told Valentino what had happened, causing the other to fly off the rails. But he never arrived.

It appeared that Adam hadn’t informed Val. Which made no sense to him. What was Adam playing at?

He knew his secret, he said. What did he mean? Surely he was just trying to scare Vox into doing what he wanted. Right? But to say such a thing, make such a gamble without having any true knowledge at his fingertips, was truly stupid. So he had to know something. But it wasn’t possible for Adam to know about…THAT.

No, Vox thought. He just thought he knew about there being more to Vox and Valentino’s less than ideal relationship status. But that wasn’t exactly news. This was Hell. NO one had a healthy relationship down here…mostly. Charlie and her girlfriend sure seemed to be happy. But Charlie was Hellborn. The same rules that applied to them didn’t apply to Sinners. Sinners, however, were all miserable. Or that’s what he always told himself.

No, Adam just thought he knew more about their relationship when there was no real reason for him to know shit. He had been in their home for a little over a week. But during that time Vox and Valentino had honestly spent very little time together due to Val’s new obsession with the ex-Exterminator. Adam didn’t know anything.

Vox couldn’t stop himself fiddling with his bullet, constantly twirling it round and round between his fingers. It didn’t bring him any sort of comfort. If anything it made him more on edge. He knew he wouldn’t use it but he also needed some sort of release for all his pent up anxiety. His skin crawled and his fingers twitched, itching to cause pain. How he wished to use his sharp claws to tear into his flesh, ripping skin apart and causing himself to bleed. It would offer relief. It would be a distraction. It sounded pleasant but he knew he couldn’t.

He quickly tore his hand out of his pocket where the bullet sat, trying to wrench himself from that train of thought. Nothing ever good came from thinking such thoughts. It only made his already agitated mind spiral further. He turned his focus back to the screen in front of him and squinted, trying to make sense of what he was seeing so he could work.

Several minutes passed in which he was able to accomplish this but with great difficulty. Never had working been so hard. Usually it was a welcome distraction.

Eventually the door to his office opened, letting in probably the last person he wanted to see in that moment.

Adam strode towards Vox with a smug smirk, clearly feeling for all the world as if he were invincible. Vox stood up with a growl, slamming his hands on his desk. “Out!” He barked. “I’m trying to work!”

"Now, now, sparky. There’s no need to be so rude!” said Adam with a smile. “Besides! I wanted to come have a chat with you, figured you could use a little break from your work. You’ve been working non-stop since our little meeting the other day, holed up in here constantly. Almost as if you were trying to avoid something,” Adam said, pointedly.

“Believe it or not, but some of us are very busy and have a lot to do,” said Vox with a sneer as Adam continued walking towards him.

“Oh I’m sure,” said Adam. “I just would have figured that chatting with me would have been at the top of your list of things you had to do.” Adam came to stop right in front of Vox’s desk, leaning over it and getting in Vox’s face. “Or didn’t I make myself clear?”

Vox leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, scoffing at the other in an attempt to put on an air of unconcern. “Oh please. I don’t know what you think you know but it ain’t shit, that’s for sure.”

Adam hopped up onto Vox’s desk, sitting on the edge of one of the sides, knocking several items over and some papers to the ground. Vox seethed but didn’t comment. “You going to just bank on that, aren’t ya?” Adam hummed. “And I thought you were the smart one of the bunch. You’d think you’d be more pressed to find out what I know. Only makes me think you know EXACTLY what I know but are just trying to avoid the obvious.”

Vox scoffed again but also clutched his arms tighter, worried about them shaking in his anticipation. “Fine. You want to play this game. Then by all means, tell me whatever dirt you think you have on me. I’m sure you are just a wealth of knowledge,” Vox said, mockingly as he sat back down in his desk chair, putting on an air of mild amusement.

Adam leaned back on the desk, using his hands to prop himself up and further disrupt the items on the desk. He looked up at the ceiling with a smile. “You know,” he said slowly, almost contemplatively. “There’s a lot of things about Hell that Heaven is completely ignorant about. We’re aware of the upper ranks of royalty: Lucifer, the Sins, the upper ranks of the Ars Goetia. But the rest of Hell’s ranks we had no idea about how it worked.”

Adam began to kick his legs back and forth like a child. Completely ignorant or simply ignoring the glare from Vox. “Overlords I guess we were vaguely aware about but only in so far that we knew that there were a handful of more powerful Sinners. I fought a couple of you stubborn bastards over the years, and gotta say, you all pack quite the punch! It was always so thrilling going up against an Overlord. Really spiced things up!” Adam laughed at that, almost as if he was recalling a pleasant memory. Which Vox supposed was what the exterminations were for Adam, despite the latest one.

“But it wasn’t until I got here, as a Sinner,” Adam sneered, “that I began to understand what sets Overlords apart from other Sinners. It’s not just an innate natural power that a Sinner has or the amount of territory you got. No, the real power source comes from Souls.”

Adam sat up and turned to look at Vox, leaning into his space. Vox resisted the urge to wheel his chair backwards. “The more souls you own the more power you got. And the more power you got, the more your natural abilities come out.”

Vox propped up his head in one of his heads and gave Adam a bored look. “Yeah, yeah, more souls equals more power. What’s your point?”

“My point,” growled Adam in frustration at being interrupted. “Is that your little boyfriend thinks HE’S the one to teach me all this, but he ain’t. I figured that all out weeks before I ever even crossed paths with him.”

Vox looked at him in confusion. “So what? What does that matter?”

Adam gave a vicious smirk. “Because wouldn’t you like to know how I found this all out?”

Vox felt trepidation rise within him at Adam's tone. He made a slight motion with his free hand as if to tell Adam to go on. “I took my first soul for my own. The rush, oh man, the rush of that first soul is insane! It’s almost as good as sex! When Valentino gave me what he thought was my first, faking that euphoria wasn’t hard since it was so recent in my mind having only been weeks prior and every time you get a new one is still it’s own sort of ecstasy. But man! Nothing compares to that first!” Adam hit Vox’s shoulder as if in comradery. Vox couldn’t help but lean far away from him.

Vox whipped down his jacket where Adam hat struck him, annoyed at the contact. “So you were bluffing and stringing Valentino along. Big whoop. And you also got a couple more souls than we initially thought. Another big whoop. You’re still no where near the power level of an Overlord.”

“Are you sure about that?” said Adam smugly. Vox didn’t like his tone at all. “Tell me, Vox. Around how many souls does an Overlord start developing their own unique powers?”

Vox shrugged. “Every Sinner is different. As you already stated, some Sinners are more naturally powerful than others. No one fully knows why. Some think it has something to do with how we lived on Earth. Either way, the average is around 1000 souls, give or take.”

Adam’s smile slowly grew, morphing into something truly sinister. Alastor’s unflinching smile popped into Vox’s mind. “What about around 50?”

“Bullshit!” cried Vox in disbelief. “There’s no way in Hell you gained that many souls in the span of a month, let alone start developing any special powers!”

Adam laughed. “You say it like it was hard! All I had to do was tell some unfortunate soul I was the feared First Man and then threaten to kill them if they didn’t give me their soul! Thanks to you spreading the word so thoroughly of my untimely demise, when a Sinner was faced with me being alive, they practically shit themselves thinking I’m invincible and gave their souls to me no questions asked!”

Adam continued to laugh as Vox thought this over. “Fine. You got around 50 souls-” Adam cut him off and said, “More like 150 now.” Vox blinked at that, reeling from that information. Whether it was true or not was irrelevant, he had no doubt Adam had more than the handful that Valentino believed he had so graciously provided to him. “150. Whatever. Even then there’s no way you have developed any of your own unique powers yet. You’re bluffing.”

Adam slowly leaned towards Vox, forcing the other to lean back into his chair as much as possible. Adam brought his hand up to the bottom of his screen, tilting Vox’s screen up slightly to look into his eyes. He said, “Are you sure about that?” as he slipped his hand to loosely grasp Vox’s neck.

Vox shot up, zapping the other with his electricity and causing his chair to slam into the wall behind him before falling over. Adam howled in pain and jumped off and away from Vox’s desk, clutching his hand in pain. Vox felt satisfaction at the display. It helped him cover up his increased breathing after having had someone touch his neck.

“OW! You piece of shit!” shouted Adam.

Vox smirked. “You know it’s too bad you don’t have any of your own Sinner based powers. It sure would be helpful when going up against a powerful Overlord, wouldn’t it?”

Adam was seething in rage. “You know what?” he cried as he pointed at Vox. “You want to play? Fine. I’ll show you what it means to mess with the motherfucking First Man, baby!”

Any previous concerns or reluctance that Vox had at the prospect of going up against Adam, or killing him, flew out the window in that moment. This, a fight with the object of his most recent frustrations, is exactly what he needed. And Vox wasn’t going to hold back. Vox gave a sharklike smile, letting the thrumming electricity just underneath his skin to rise to the surface, sparking between his fingertips and antenna. This would be the perfect way for him to blow off some steam. Consequences be damned.

And then the outstretched hand, pointing at Vox, turned into a fist, almost as if grasping ahold of an invisible object, and pulled. Vox was thrown off his feet, suddenly being jerked forward, crashing into his desk monitor, and hitting the floor on the other side of the desk at Adam’s feet. Vox blinked several times in surprise, not understanding what had just happened.

After several more blinks, he then became aware of a pinkish-red wispy chain in front of him. He focused on it and realized that one end connected to his neck. Suddenly, he was aware of the ever present, yet distant, weight at his neck that had now rapidly become heavier and tangible. The leash at his neck had just been summoned to the physical plane and was solid, despite the wispy smoke like quality.

White hot panic stabbed Vox’s heart. He cast a wide-eyed look up, worried that there would be another person there in the room with him, the one who held the other end. But when Vox looked up, the only person he saw holding onto the chain was Adam.

What?

Adam stared down at the wispy chain in his hand, looking almost equally stunned at the recent development. He cried out in excitement. “It worked! It worked! It actually fucking worked!”

The chain in Adam’s hand extended past him, leading towards the office door, but fading into nothingness just before reaching it. The other end still lay elsewhere.

Adam continued to give out shouts of excitement, distracted from the now kneeling Overlord in front of him. But Vox was unaware of what Adam was saying. He was unaware of the stinging in his knees from where they hit the floor. He was unaware of the sparks that flew from his now broken desk monitor, lying on the floor. The only thing he was aware of was the ringing in his ears, drowning out all noise but his breathing, and the weight of the chain from his soul bond clutching at his throat.

As fast as lightning, Vox turned into electricity and shoved Adam up against the wall, cracks forming behind him from the impact and Vox's leash disappearing. Adam gasped at the impact and the hand to his throat, squeezing and holding him in place. Vox heard more than felt the glitches distorting his screen before turning into a look of deadly rage with one swirling eye. With bared teeth, and sparks flying from him, Vox screamed in fury, “WHAT DID YOU JUST DO??!!”

Adam choked at the pressure on his neck, unable to form words. With great reluctance, Vox released some of the pressure. Adam coughed before saying, “Pretty fucking cool, ain’t it?”

Vox shoved him back into the wall again, causing the other to cry out in pain. A small smattering of blood appeared on the wall behind Adam’s head. “ANSWER ME!!” screamed Vox.

“Relax man,” choked out Adam who pulled at Vox’s death grip. His struggling was useless though. Vox would not budge. “It’s my own special demon powers. Pretty neat, huh? Tell me, have you ever known a Sinner to be able to see and manipulate another Sinner’s soul bonds?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “You haven’t. I know. Because I’ve asked around about soul bonds. And everyone says the same thing.” Adam smiled despite the situation he was in. “It’s impossible to see them unless the contractor brings it into being. And it’s impossible to touch them except by the one’s it involves. And yet…” Adam reached one shaking hand out towards Vox’s neck. Right before his hand touched Vox’s skin, he was met with resistance once the wispy collar at Vox’s neck appeared.

Vox released Adam with a gasp, stumbling several feet back and away. Adam bent over, hacking and attempting to regain his breathing. While Adam was the one who had just been getting his breath choked out of him, Vox felt like he was the one who couldn’t breathe. He didn’t even attempt to hide his shaking as he brought his hand to his own throat. The collar had disappeared again.

“H-how is this p-xx-ossible?” asked Vox through his glitching.

Adam coughed again and rubbed his neck before speaking. “I first started noticing these faint little strings running from Sinners somewhere around the 50th soul I took. This tiny pathetic little mouse Sinner, shaking in her boots. Once she signed her soul away to me and after I banished my chain on her, I saw this golden thread still connecting us. It was wrapped around her neck and led to my chest. She seemed completely unaware of it and didn’t know what I was talking about when I asked.” Adam stood up straight and rolled his neck and shoulders to relieve the tension and pain. “There was a bunch of other thin golden threads leading from my chest too, all leading in different directions.”

Adam began to slowly stroll towards Vox’s desk. Vox only watched as he circled around him, too stunned to do much else. “After I left her, I ran into other Sinners. Some had no threads. A lot did. They were all different colors too. Some had many coming from their chests, while others only a couple.” Adam picked up Vox’s upturned desk chair and casually sat in it. “And a lot of Sinners had the thread looping around their neck. Some of them even had their own threads leading from their chests while they also had one at their neck. But those with threads at their neck, only ever had one there, never multiple.”

With a smirk, Adam leaned back with his feet on Vox’s desk and his hands behind his head. Distantly Vox noticed Adam gave a slight flinch at the contact at the back of his head but it barely registered. “It didn’t take me long to put two-and-two together what those threads were especially when I summoned more of my little slaves, each one having their own thin golden thread looped around their neck.”

“Soul bonds,” Vox whispered in a daze.

“Bingo!” cheered Adam. “It was soul bonds. I could see them! But I couldn’t touch them. At least not the ones that weren’t mine. My hand would pass right through them, as did everyone else who would walk past. No one seemed to be aware of this giant fucking tangled up ball of yarn all through the streets of Hell except for me. But,” he said with a raised finger. “I thought maybe, with more souls, I eventually could. I just wasn’t getting as many as I would have liked quickly enough. I NEED to get those souls because maybe, if I could manipulate the soul bonds, somehow, it could get me back to Heaven.” Adam sounded desperate at that, his voice unsteady.

“I came across your little boyfriend not long after that,” he said, voice returning to the same smug tone it was before. “He had more threads leading to his chest than any other Sinner I had met. I barely could see his damn clothes through the spider web of threads around him. Now that was someone that I thought could be useful in getting me more souls! I just had to become all buddy buddy with the freak which was way easier than I was expecting. The dude invited me back to your tower within minutes of meeting him!” Adam laughed. Vox cringed.

“As interesting as all that was, it wasn’t anything compared to you.” Adam dropped his legs to the ground and leaned on the desk, propping his head in his hands, gazing at Vox like he was his prey. “The number of threads surrounding you was insane! A shining blue beacon just begging for people to look! But I didn’t care about that. What really fascinated me was the thin red thread leading from Valentino’s chest all the way to your neck.”

Vox gulped, clutching at his neck as if to shield it from the prying eyes of Adam. This only made his sinister grin widen.

“I wonder,” drawled Adam. “What would the rest of Hell think if one of it’s top Overlords, the one everyone thinks to be in constant control, was nothing more than the bitch of another?”

The ringing in Vox’s ears hadn’t subsided this entire time. It had only gone to the background until now. Vox’s worst fear, to have the rest of Hell find out his biggest secret, was looming over his head. After all these years, all these decades, no one had ever found out. He made sure of that. It was the one stipulation that Vox had asked for on his end when he gave his soul to Valentino, the only shred of lucidity he had that day. Valentino couldn’t tell anyone. He couldn’t speak of it. He couldn’t summon Vox’s chain in front of others. Nobody could know.

And now Adam did.

Vox’s breaths were coming too fast. Panic, looming just under the surface. “What do-xx you want?” he whispered through gasps.

“I think we could make a little deal,” said Adam. “You already know I want into Heaven. And I know that you want to keep this a secret.”

Vox shook his head. “I already told you, I’m working on it but after that last mee-x-ting, I don’t know-”

“Yeah I know, I know,” growled Adam in frustration. “There’s no guarantee you can get me into Heaven by convincing them to take me back. I know how stubborn Sera is. That bitch rarely changes her mind and she’s the one that needs to be convinced. No, what you can for sure do for me is get me more souls.”

Vox scrunched up his eyes in confusion. “Why would you want more souls?”

“Think about it,” said Adam. “If I get more souls under my control, then I can show Heaven how useful I can still be for them. More souls means less Sinners out there fucking around and causing problems. And with more souls my powers strengthen. Maybe even eventually I can manipulate those bonds. Who knows what that could mean!”

A part of Vox knew that that would be incredibly dangerous, to have the power to manipulate soul bonds be in the hands of Adam. With enough souls, would he be able to transfer soul bonds over to himself by simply touching them? He’d have unlimited souls at his disposal. But if he could do that, could he break a soul bond too?

Clearly Adam thought it was a possibility too. “If you help me get more souls, then once I get a handle on these powers I’ll break your bond with Valentino.”

It was the most tempting offer Vox had ever been presented with. A little too tempting. Vox shook his head. “You don’t even know if you’ll be able to do that. All I’ll be doing is giving you more power with no guarantee of benefiting me in the end.”

Adam scowled. “It benefits you because one, I won’t tell people your secret, and two, once I get back to Heaven my offer of taking care of Valentino next extermination still stands.”

What Adam was offering Vox was his freedom. So long had he lived without it. So long had he been chained to the man he once thought could have offered him salvation. Only one decision in his life did he regret more. The bullet in his pocket felt heavy.

However, there was no guarantee that Adam would go to Heaven whether that be through Vox’s doing or Adam’s own. There was also no guarantee that Adam would ever be able to break the soul bond.

The only guarantee in all this was that Adam knew his secret and that if Vox didn't do what he said then all of Hell would know too. His status as an Overlord would be lost. Valentino would have no excuse to play nice due to the constraints of their deal and would make it known to everyone that Vox truly was just his bitch. Everyone would know Vox was just another one of his whores he owned. He thought about Angel Dust and the others. Vox's life would be even worse than theirs because Valentino owned him completely, body and soul. There were no scheduling restrictions. No stipulations that said he could do as he pleased on his time off. The only stipulations were that Valentino couldn't let anyone know about their deal. But if everyone knew, Val could do anything.

Vox gulped. "How many souls do you want?"

Adam shrugged. "As many as I can get!"

He shook his head. "No. That's not clear enough. If we are going to make a deal then there has to be a clear guideline as to how many souls I am to bring to you in exchange for your end of the bargain."

Adam rolled his eyes. "Why does it matter? You keep bringing me souls and I don't tell anyone you're Valentino's bitch. I eventually get strong enough or get to Heaven and I remedy your problem. Simple enough."

"No. It's not," growled Vox. "I'm not going to make a soul binding deal with you when the terms are as vague as that. There's so many ways for you to not uphold your end of the bargain and leave me high and dry!"

"Who said anything about a soul binding deal?" Said Adam with a laugh. "All the idiots I've been making deals with are clearly complete morons and cowards. They don't know anything about manipulating deals to their advantage. You, however, I know enough about you that entering into a deal with you is a bad idea. You'll twist it somehow to wind up with me being the sucker of the two. I have no doubt the reason your deals are so air tight with no loopholes is due to the last time you made a deal that you didn't completely think out ended with you getting thoroughly fucked. Literally!" Adam laughed some more and Vox flinched.

Vox fidgeted where he stood. "Then how do you expect this deal to go?"

"You ain't ever heard of the honor system?" asked Adam mockingly.

"Like fuck you'd actually uphold the 'honor system'," scoffed Vox.

Adam placed his hand against his chest. "You wound me Vox. Truly you do."

Vox crossed his arms in agitation. He felt ready to snap. His mind began to whirl, thinking of jumping across the desk and frying the little pest right where he sat. It would get rid of the problem temporarily but Adam would regenerate. Vox needed to get an angelic weapon to end Adam permanently. His bullet lay against his thigh, tempting in its promise. But would Vox really be willing to use it on Adam? If he didn't, would he be dooming himself to his own fate? He'd done that once already, no need to doom himself further. But maybe he could strike a deal with Carmine. He HAD been trying to get her on the books for months now but she had been dodging his calls. Could he convince her to at least give him one weapon? Just a little knife. Nothing much. Just a small thing, but able enough to slice Adam's throat for good. But would it be for good? The reveal from the meeting with Heaven indicated that perhaps there were rules to Adam's return as a Sinner seeing as Sir Pentious of all demons was redeemed. Perhaps an angelic knife in his chest now would kill him for good. The chances were good. Vox thought it was a decent enough risk.

"I know what you're thinking," said Adam, interrupting Vox's train of thought. "Why not just kill me?" Vox blinked. "Use an angelic weapon. Keep your secret safe for sure. Which gotta say, not cool dude! Thinking about murdering the guy who's only trying to help you out? Real asshole move!" So says the asshole, thought Vox. "But you're not going to kill me."

Vox scowled but played along. No use denying what he had just been thinking. "And why's that?"

Adam smiled. "Because the thought of gaining your freedom is too good to pass up. Someone like you who's desperately trying to gain complete control of everything? Tell me, were you always this much of a control freak or did that happen as a result of you losing control of your own soul?" Vox flinched again. He couldn't seem to get control of himself, shaking and flinching every couple of seconds. And all right in front of the looming predator. "No," continued Adam. "You won't kill me because you'll do anything for the chance to get off Valentino's leash."

Vox looked down and away, unable to look at Adam any longer. They both knew Adam was right. The mere possibility of being free from Valentino? It was intoxicating. He felt light headed and he wasn't sure if it was from the anticipation or from the raw feeling of being faced with someone knowing of his biggest weakness. Every day he dealt with people knowing already of how weak he was, knowing of his death. But having people know of this? The thought of having Valentino show everyone just how pathetic he truly was? He couldn't stand it but he also wanted more than anything to finally and completely be free. Here Vox was, cornered and trapped in a cage of his own making. And here Adam was, dangling the key above his head, just out of reach. He felt so very very tired.

His silence was enough of an answer for Adam who stood from Vox's chair, circling the desk. Vox didn't turn to him, instead he continued to stare at the ground even after Adam firmly patted his back. "This has been a great talk! Wish we could have had it sooner," said Adam who walked towards the exit. "I look forward to doing business with you!"

The loud clang from Vox's office door closing behind him was like a spell, or curse, lifting. Vox fell to his knees for the second time and he began to shake. He wrapped his arms around himself in an imitation of a hug, claws digging into his jacket, tearing holes into it that he was unaware of. His breaths were coming fast, short and sharp, not settling long enough in his lungs. Lights flickered overhead, the only thing that was vaguely registering in his spiraling mind. He turned his head to the side, gazing outside his wide windows, and looked at the blood red sky of the Pride Ring. Lights in some of the adjacent buildings were also affected, twinkling along with his narrowing vision. Valentino's studio in the lower floors would also be affected. As would they be in Velvette's workshop. He needed to leave. He couldn't do this here.

He looked up at one of the cameras he had in the corner of his office. With the remaining control and lucidity that he had, Vox turned himself into electricity and he ran.

In all his years of living and in his afterlife, Vox had never felt so trapped.

_______________________

Xavier paced back and forth, anxiously waiting for his sister. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, bathing the rural Mississippi town in twilight. It offered some relief to the sweltering heat, hotter than most this time of year. He looked out through the open overhead garage doors, towards the street, and yet he still did not see her.

Josef and David stood behind him, further into the shop, whispering amongst themselves. He knew they were talking about him but he ignored them.

He shouldn't have ran. He was a coward. How could he leave his sister there alone? What if their father did something to her? She had said she would meet him and to wait for her but what if she was unable to come for him? And even if she did come to the shop, what then? They would have to go home eventually. Xavier was only delaying the inevitable.

Xavier continued to pace even as he heard footsteps approaching behind him. Josef stood about a foot away from him, watching him walk back and forth. "Xavier," Josef said, but he did not answer. "Xavier, son. Why don't you come sit?"

"S-s-s-she s-s-s-s-should have beeeeen here by now," he said. He brought his hand up to his face and began biting at his thumb.

"Did she say when she would be meeting you here?" asked Josef in a soft voice.

Xavier shook his head. "N-n-n-no."

Josef nodded. "Then there's no cause for worry. She's simply taking her time. Come. David went and picked up some of Old Maude's sandwiches and apple pie from down the street. You must be starving." He raised his arm towards David and the shop, trying to wave Xavier in.

He did not waver in his pacing. "Allllllready a-a-ate."

Josef sighed. Xavier heard David say in a hushed voice, but still plenty loud enough for him to hear, "Told ya. The boy's stubborn. He ain't going to listen to you, Jo. Doesn't know what's good for him."

"David hush," hissed Josef, trying to quiet his partner.

But Xavier finally stopped. "He's right. I dddddon't know what's good for me. I'm an idiot who f-f-f-fucked things up and might have kkkkkilled my sister."

Josef stepped towards him. "Now let's not be overly dramatic-"

Xavier cut him off. "NO!!" he shouted, whipping towards the two startled older men. Not once had Xavier ever raised his voice to them. Not once had he ever argued. "You don't know how he is! You don't know what he's like! Day after day, year after year, he beats us over and over! His own family! He doesn't love us! He doesn't care! He only cares about his dead Victor. The perfect son who he wishes I could have taken the place of!" Xavier couldn't help the sniffle and hiccup that escaped him. "He would give anything to have Victor back, even if that means giving up both me and Olivia. He hates us!" He wasn't stuttering but his voice was quivering now and his throat felt hot. "You don't know what sort of man he is. You don't know what he's capable of."

Silence permeated the air. Xavier looked down in shame and he rubbed his hand against his eyes, desperately trying to whip away his tears. After several long moments, Josef spoke. "I know you feel alone. And you feel like neither I nor David could possibly understand what you're going through. And you're right, we can't. No one can know exactly how you feel or what you're going through, not even your sister. She's in a very similar situation, the same situation, but her experience is going to be unique from your own. But that doesn't mean she can't relate. Nor does it mean we can't either." Xavier sniffled, rubbing at his nose with the back of his hand. The action would have earned him a smack and a lecture from his father but Josef said nothing. This caused him to look up and meet Josef's kind eyes. "Why do you think David and I got so close at such an early age? We both had shit father's too. We found solace in each other at the little crick bordering both our family farms. We'd signal to each other when one was there by a little candle that could be seen at night from each other's bedroom windows. We took to keeping some cloths and alcohol there, both for making ourselves feel better by drowning our sorrows and also for cleaning any wounds we got from our fathers."

Xavier's eyes widened. Josef's eyes betrayed no lie and when Xavier turned to David he saw none there. David stared back at him, scowling but unflinching. Sturdy and supportive.

"I know you feel like you and Olivia are alone," said Josef, pulling Xavier's attention back to him. "But you'd be surprised by the number of people who could relate."

David made an affirmative noise. "Your sister will be fine. Just you wait. She'll be arriving soon enough."

"But how do you know?" He asked.

"Your sister's a stubborn bastard, just like you, kid," said David, gruffly. "Smart too. She'll find her way to you."

"And then what?" Xavier looked to Josef. "A-a-after what I did to my father he'll kill me. I've nevvvvver seen him so livid."

Josef sighed and looked to David. "One thing at a time. Come on. At least eat a slice of pie." He put his hand on Xavier's back and steered him with little resistance to a chair where David set him up with a plate of Maude's apple pie. The usually sweet apple pie tasted like sawdust as he ate. But he ate as he was instructed to, unable to fight for much longer.

Darkness began to descend upon the town. The nighttime wildlife began to come alive with the sounds of insects. Josef and David conversed amongst themselves as they finished their food. They began to busy themselves with tidying up the shop, tasks that Xavier noted were things they had frequently talked about needing to do but had ultimately remained undone due to the many other pressing matters that needed to be attended to. It was clear they were just finding things to do and keep busy, neither one of the older men wanting to leave and go home, abandoning the young man. It was long past when they would usually have closed up shop and Xavier felt immensely grateful to both of them. It made him feel guilty over his worries about them earlier in the day. How could he ever think the two to be wrong and disgusting? The kindness that they had shown him over the years far outweighed anything he had experienced from anyone that wasn't his siblings.

The sound of a vehicle traveling down the road drew Xavier's attention. As it drew closer he recognized it. The truck belonged to a former sweetheart of Olivia's, Danny Williams, who still lived down the street from them. Xavier had teased Olivia about Danny relentlessly over the years, making fun of the lovesick young man who Olivia had rejected time and time again. That never seemed to deter Danny, however.

The truck pulled up to the shop and Xavier hopped to his feet. The headlights were blinding in the dark so he raised his hand to cover his eyes. Once the vehicle stopped, the front passenger door opened and out jumped Olivia.

The two rushed towards each other, grabbing onto the other with a fierce hug. Relief washed over Xavier and more tears sprung to his eyes. "I-I-I-I was so w-w-w-worrrried about you," he said, muffled in her shoulder.

She stroked his hair, shushing him quietly. "I told you I would meet you here. I wasn't going to break my promise." The broken promise from their brother was left unsaid.

Finally, the two leaned back and Xavier was able to get the first good look of her since he had left their house. A black eye was already forming on her left eye. Xavier tentatively touched it with his fingertips. Olivia flinched slightly and looked away, grabbing onto his hand on her face and squeezing hard. Deep misery and rage filled within him at his sister's face. "Where else did he hurt you?" He whispered. Olivia gave a sad smile and looked at Xavier.

"Never you mind that. It ain't so bad. Looks worse than it is," she reassured. David came up behind Xavier, clearing his throat and making the siblings finally aware of the fact they weren't alone.

He extended his arm, holding a cold soda pop towards her. "Here. Put this on that eye or it'll swell up something fierce."

Olivia took it gratefully, putting the chilled glass to her eye, winching at the contact. "Thank you." David nodded.

"You alright?" asked Josef softly. Olivia nodded without meeting his eyes. "Yes," she said. "I'll be fine soon enough. All that's not going to matter much longer anyways."

Xavier scrunched up his eyebrows in confusion. "What do you mean?"

A honk startled him. Xavier looked up at Danny who was leaning out of his truck, his hand on the steering wheel. "Olivia! If you want to catch that bus we need to leave now!"

"Bus?" questioned Xavier. "What bus?" He looked at his sister. "What's going on?"

Olivia nervously smiled at him and grabbed both of his hands in hers. "Xavier. Remember when we were children, how we used to sit in that dusty attic, listening to that old radio and sit under that mothball ridden fort? We'd lay there together with Victor and he'd weave his stories about how we'd leave this wretched town together and we'd go off to do great things. The way he talked about it, it seemed like all we had to do was reach out and grab it to make it real."

"Of course," he whispered. There wasn't a day that went by that he didn't think of those times. It made his heart ache.

Olivia squeezed his hands and pulled him closer to her. She looked up at him and Xavier was struck suddenly with how much he had grown. It felt like it was just yesterday when he used to be the one looking up at her, his big sister, laughing and standing next to their big brother.

"Let's do it," she said. "Let's leave this damn town and never look back."

"What?" He said in surprise.

"Let's leave, Xavier. There's a bus that leaves shortly to Hattiesburg that can take us to the train station there. We can hop on a train and make our way to New York City," she said with growing excitement.

"New York?" Xavier felt lost, his brain unable to keep up with what Olivia was saying.

"Yes," she said, smiling. "I've been looking into it for quite some time now. I've talked to some travelers who have been to the Big Apple, talking to them about the cost of apartments and living. I've looked into bus and trains going there, figuring out the cost and everything. It'll be a lot but I've been saving a lot of my tips and money, and I know you have too! And we're smart and hard workers. I know we'll be able to find jobs there soon enough and find an apartment."

Xavier was speechless. All of it, it was so much. After all these years, ever since Victor had died, their dreams of leaving always felt like just that, dreams. They weren't tangible. And yet here Olivia was talking about going to the Big Apple. It was insane!

"B-b-b-but my stuff. My money! We can't g-g-go. We'd have to go hhhhhome!" He said in protest but before he could even finish his sentence his sister was shaking her head.

"It's already been taken care of. That's why it took me so long. I was trying to pack our stuff quietly while father was causing a right racket downstairs and mother was trying to calm him. I called Danny and asked him to meet me out back to help me sneak out with all our bags." Xavier looked towards the other man who was still leaning out of his truck. "He's offered to drive us to the bus stop. But we have to hurry or we'll miss the bus!"

He looked down at her and her face was so filled with hope. For the first time in years it felt like maybe their dreams were possible.

"Xavier," she said, placing her hand on his cheek. "I know this is a lot. And I know you had your heart set on finishing school. You didn't want to have to drop out like I did just to help support our father and his addiction. But we can't keep living like this. And we can't stay here. Let's go to New York and start over. Make something of ourselves! Let's make Victor proud."

For years, Xavier had wondered what it felt like to crave the attention and approval of one's parents. Most of his life he hoped to escape their notice because any attention usually spelled disaster. No, the one's he craved approval from were always his siblings. They were the ones who encouraged and praised him whenever he fixed something new. They were the ones who told him he could do anything he wanted. They were the ones who raised him. And how he desperately wanted to make them proud. Even with Victor being gone.

Xavier wore a matching smile to Olivia and nodded. "Alright."

She cried out in excitement and threw her arms around his shoulders, hugging him. Danny honked at them again, pointedly looking at his watch when they turned.

"Oh pipe down you!" shouted David. "They're having a moment!"

"You're friends right though," said Josef. "Unfortunately by now I'm sure you won't make your bus." Olivia looked at Xavier with wide eyes. "Not to worry though," he said with a chuckle. "We'll give you two a ride to Hattiesburg."

Xavier and Olivia began to protest but Josef simply waved them off. David grumbled to himself about not getting any sleep tonight as he went into the office. "Really, it's no bother," said Josef. "What sort of bosses would we be if we let our best employee run off in the middle of the night without a little help?"

"A normal one," deadpanned Olivia.

Josef chuckled. "Well it's a good thing we aren't normal."

David exited the office, throwing a set of keys to Josef who expertly caught them. "You're drivin. I ain't doing it if you're dragging me all the way to Hattiesburg in the middle of the night."

"You don't have to come with, you know," Josef said with a smile.

"Like Hell I'm lettin' you go by yourself. You'll get lost and find yourself at the ocean instead if I don't come with," he grumbled some more as we began closing up the shop.

Josef laughed some more as he watched his partner. Now that Xavier was looking for it, he couldn't believe he ever thought that gaze was anything but fond. "Go on," Josef said as he pointed towards Danny's truck with his head. "Get your stuff and we'll be on our way."

The siblings grabbed their bags and Xavier pretended not to listen as Danny gave an emotional goodbye to Olivia. She patted his back awkwardly before grabbing Xavier's hand and pulling him away to David and Josef's truck who sat waiting for the two. They threw their two big bags in the back and settled in the back seats with their smaller bags in their laps. As Josef pulled away from the shop, David grumbling all the while, Xavier unzipped his bag to see what his sister had packed. There, laying on the top, was his old raggedy shark stuffed animal. In the whirlwind of everything he had nearly forgotten about it. Olivia knocked her shoulder against his. She whispered, "Couldn't forget Vark, now could we?" He smiled, pleased to have it with him. It was the first toy he had been given when he was just an infant. Victor reportedly bought it with some change he found on the streets. His parents never disputed this claim so he believed it had to be true, that it was a gift from Victor.

During the drive, both David and Olivia fell asleep with Olivia's head resting on Xavier's shoulder. He couldn't sleep himself though, far to antsy from the day's unexpected turn of events. He stared out the window, watching the familiar scenery pass him by. He wondered if this was the last time he would see it. All too soon, they made it to the train station. Josef woke up David who huffed and complained about not being woken up to give directions, stating how it was a miracle Josef found his way. Olivia was woken up by Xavier who was far more reserved and pleasant upon her waking.

"David, you go help Olivia buy their tickets. Xavier and I will take care of the bags and meet you at the terminal," said Josef, already grabbing the bigger bags from the back. David steered Olivia away and Xavier grabbed his two bags while Josef grabbed Olivia's big one, Olivia still having a hold of her smaller one. "Here," said Josef, handing Xavier two wrapped sandwiches. He recognized them as being from Maude's. "You and your sister can have these later while on the train." Xavier stuttered out his thanks as he stuffed them into his bag, settling them next to Vark.

Xavier silently trailed after Josef, feeling disbelief that he was actually leaving. He stood there, watching only a handful of people bustle around at this late hour, most at home in bed. It felt surreal being here. He had never even been on a train before, most of his life spent in the same small Mississippi town, barely even leaving his county.

"Told you you were meant for something big." Xavier turned his head at Josef's statement, startling him. Josef smiled. "The Big Apple. I'm sure that'll be the place where you'll make your mark on this world."

Xavier shrugged. "We'll see."

Josef laughed and patted Xavier's back. "You gotta have faith in yourself, kid. Your sister sure does. And I do too."

Xavier felt his cheeks flush at the compliment. Josef reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out a handful of bills. "Here. Take this." Xavier looked at the cash in shock. "This'll help you and your sister get you to where you're needing to go. It's not a lot but it'll help."

"This is $32!" Xavier shouted.

Josef laughed. "Yeah and it'll take you a lot more than that if you want to get to New York and get settled there. Take it. You'll need it."

"I-I-I can't t-t-t-take this! It's too much! And you've already dddddone so much fffffor us!" said Xavier, shaking his head and pushing Josef's outstretched hand away.

"You need to learn how to accept help, son," said Josef who instead opened up Olivia's bag, stuffing the money inside. "I know it can be hard sometimes. Pride is a difficult thing. It makes us feel weak when we really aren't. We're all human though and we all need a little help sometimes. You just gotta know how to ask for it and how to accept it. You'd be surprised by the number of people who would be willing to lend a helping hand."

Unbidden, Xavier felt tears prickling his eyes once more. Josef and David had both been so kind, never once asking for anything in return. Josef looked at Xavier in concern. "Hey now. There's no need for that, son."

Xavier sniffled. "I saw you earlier. In the restroom with David. I know what you two are."

Josef gave a single nod. "I know."

Xavier hiccupped. "I th-th-thought you two were disgusting. I thought y-y-y-ou were monsters."

"I know."

"Then wwwwwwhy are yyyyyyou doing this?" Xavier rubbed at his cheek, whipping away the tear that had escaped.

"Because you're a good kid," Josef simply said. "You're a good kid who's had to deal with a shitty situation and a shitty father who has made you feel inferior. I know from personal experience what that feels like and it's going to take you a long time to stop hearing his voice every time you think ill of yourself. I don't take it personally when your fathers voice told you David and I are disgusting queers and Jews. We've heard worse, believe me."

Xavier shook his head. "I sttttill don't understand why you'd help me."

Josef shrugged and smiled. "You remind me of myself when I was your age."

His heart stuttered and his stomach rolled. "But I-I-I'm not- I'm not-"

Josef grabbed his shoulder. "It's ok. It doesn't matter whether you are or aren't. None of that matters at the end of the day anyways. What matters is the sort of man you become. I know you'll be a great one. Just also try to be a good one."

The trains whistle went off, indicating that the train was about to take off. Smoke plumed from the train, and the conductor shouted for all aboard. Moments later, Olivia and David came rushing over to them, both heaving. "Quickly!" shouted Olivia. "It's going to leave without us!"

"You got your tickets?" asked Josef.

Olivia brandished them at him, beaming wide. "Yes! Although David insisted on buying them. I told him no but he wouldn't let me pay! As soon as we can, we'll send you the money back."

David heaved. "I told ya. I don't want your damn money!"

"He'll only send the money right back if you send it to us," said Josef with a smile. "No use in bothering."

Olivia opened her mouth to say more but the train whistle sounded again, and the train began to slowly move. "Quick!" she cried. She ran off towards the train with Xavier, Josef, and David trailing behind her with their bags. Josef and a ticket collector both helped her up, Josef handing each bag to them as the train began to slowly move faster. Xavier was jogging to keep up by the time Josef was done and he grabbed ahold of Olivia's hand, pulling himself up with a grunt. The two stumbled, catching themselves on the ticket collector and train. They turned around, holding onto each other and watched as Josef continued to jog with the train, David bent over and heaving a ways back. He waved and shouted, "Send us your address when you get to the Big Apple! We'll send you your last paycheck once you get settled!"

"You've already given us more than enough!" Xavier shouted back.

"What did I say about help!" Josef stopped following the train at the terminal's end, chuckling and still waving as the train picked up speed.

Olivia waved back as long as she could until the ticket collector cleared his throat and took their tickets before ushering them in. He took them to their seats, helping with their luggage.

The two sat there, side-by-side, breathing heavily from the excitement and exertion. They both stared ahead, neither really believing what had happened.

"We're really going," said Olivia quietly.

Xavier nodded and gasped out, "Yes."

"We're leaving Mississippi," she whispered.

"I know," he replied.

Olivia reached across the seat and grabbed his hand. Xavier squeezed it. It finally felt real. This wasn't just a dream, he thought. They were leaving Mississippi and headed to New York. They were getting away from their father and mother and all the poison in that house. No more having to tiptoe around their own house and family, worried about being struck. They no longer had to help him pay for his liquor, aiding in his addiction.

For the first time in his life, Xavier felt free.

He only hoped it would last.

Notes:

Ages for the siblings in 1922:

Xavier is 17 years old
Olivia is 20 years old

Little bit of history for this chapter:

Warren G. Harding was the first president to deliver a radio address. He addressed the nation at the dedication of the Lincoln Memorial on May 30, 1922, an address that served as the day’s equivalent of the State of the Union address.

$32 in 1922 is equivalent in purchasing power to about $597.23 today.

And welp! There you go. Secret revealed! A lot of people guessed that the secret Adam knew was about the state of Vox and Valentino's relationship, which you're all correct. It's just there's more to it than them just having a toxic relationship, as this chapter showed. The concept of Valentino owning Vox's soul is something I've seen other people write about in other fics. It's an idea that while I doubt will ever be canon, it's an idea I would like to explore.

Again, ShimNam (@NaroJunipo on Twitter) has done some fanart of the previous chapter. The link is below!

https://twitter.com/NaroJunipo/status/1791297758508572897?s=19

As always, stay tuned for next chapter!

Chapter 11: A Drink at a Bar and a Reunion

Summary:

Vox flees from the revelation with Adam, struggling to rein in his emotions. Desperate for some respite he makes his way to the Hotel. A reunion is had.

Notes:

Welcome back for the latest chapter. Hope you all enjoy it!

How we all doing with those latest episodes from Helluva Boss (I'm just assuming yall are fans of that too)? Wonderful sweet sweet angst! I've been thinking of writing some for that fandom too, because I love Stolitz drama. But I don't necessarily have much of any story in mind and also I still have so much more for this series I have planned and want to focus on this. However, I've tossed around the idea starting other stories for Hazbin Hotel, all of which will still be Alastor and Vox focused, but not part of this series. I have more concreate ideas for other stories for Hazbin then Helluva. But again, want to focus on this series so we shall see!

TW for this chapter: panic attack, mentions/allusions to past rape and domestic violence, talk of real world wars

Lights burst and glass shattered, raining down on a dilapidated street of Hell. This neighborhood was mostly abandoned, frequented only by the odd Sinner so far down on their luck that the grungy alleyways were their only option. Most drug dealers and prostitutes wouldn't even venture to this area of town, knowing that the street dwellers here had nothing to their name. This is why it was the perfect spot for Vox to travel to, riding the current of electricity through wires and breaking out into an explosion of sparks onto the road. Any unfortunate Sinner within a couple block radius was unexpectedly fried to a crisp, their corpses smoldering where they lay, forced to wait to regenerate from an attack they never saw coming. Vox stumbled down the street, unaware of the damage he had caused, too caught up in the storm raging in his head.

His breaths were ragged and coming too quick. His lungs felt like they were on fire and his vision was coming in and out of focus. Black spots were closing in, obstructing his view of the sidewalk in front of him, causing him to stumble over a poor dead soul that he could smell the burning flesh of. He caught himself on a crumbling building and used it to guide his way to an alleyway, away from the openness of the street. He didn't want to take any chances of having someone run across him in such a state.

When his unsteady legs could carry him no further he fell against the wall, sliding slowly down with one shoulder against it, using his opposite hand to feel his way to the dirty ground. His vision was completely obstructed now and the fear of not knowing who or what was around him only made his gasping breaths come faster in an uneven rhythm.

Once he felt his knees hit the ground, he plopped himself into a sitting position with his back flat against the wall. He tore at his bowtie and collar with both hands which with great effort offered him some relief once his constricting neck felt air strike against it. In his haste to get his collar open, the top three buttons were wrenched open, flying to the ground and getting lost in the grime and trash littered there. Vox was only distantly aware of this for he still couldn't see or breath.

One hand lay flat against the upper part of his exposed chest, at the base of his throat, as if by keeping his hand there he could keep his racing heart from bursting out of him. His other hand was flying around by his side, desperately trying to grasp onto the floor, wall, his thigh, anything that might be able to help ground him. The pain from his claws digging into his thigh helped somewhat so his hand settled there, kneading at his pants and leg.

The sound of his desperate gasps filled the alleyway and sounded deafening in the quiet. He heard the hissing sound of electricity buzzing from himself as well as any streetlamps and cameras that were once functioning in the area but were now rendered useless due to his uncontrollable power. He was making so much noise that he worried that anyone still left alive in the area would be drawn to him and he would be unable to hear them coming. His only hope was that anyone who got too close would also be zapped in an instant before they could use his vulnerable position against him.

Get a hold of yourself, he thought. This display is unbecoming of an Overlord. And not just any Overlord but the Media Demon himself. The one who is always in control. Never not in control.

God, why couldn't he ever get control?

In. Out. In. Out. Faster and faster, never slowing. He just needed his breathing to slow down and then eventually his pounding heart would follow.

A pitiful whimper escaped his lips, something that sounded close to a cry that he tried to swallow down. Don't you dare cry, you pathetic little bitch, a voice that sounded suspiciously like his father's yelled in his mind. Be a fucking man!!

The voice only made things worse and a wetness trickled down his screen. The hand that was twisted in his pants leg was brought to his face, whipping away the tears at his unseeing eyes with a ferocity that he knew would have made his vision burst in a kaleidoscope of colors if it wasn't for the black spots that still lingered there.

Goddammit. Goddammit! GODDAMMIT! Fucking breath!!

It had been so long since he had had a panic attack. He had gotten used to the Hell of his own making that he had been forced to endure over the past three decades or so when he signed his soul away. It was sometime during those early days when the reality of what he had done came crashing down on him. It wasn't even after the first crack to his screen or the first hand shaped bruise that he realized things. No, his weak heart took a little more time to shatter completely and it wasn't until after the first time he had begged his supposed savior to not bend him over his desk and shove his way inside of him relentlessly with a bruising pace did he fully grasp the severity of his situation. Thankfully it wasn't until later while he was frantically scrubbing at his raw skin in the shower, alone, weeping, did the panic attack come. His mind played on a loop of a memory from years prior of Alastor's disgusted voice biting out in cruel words how Valentino would show his true colors to him soon enough and that when he did Vox shouldn't come crawling back to him because he would find no solace there.

The memory of that day tore a high pitched whine from his throat making him sound like a wounded and dying animal.

Please, he thought desperately. Please just make it stop. Why can't it all just stop?

He didn't know who he was silently pleading to whether it be himself or a God that had long since abandoned him. He wondered if God had ever truly been on his side. His childhood indicated He hadn't been.

Breathing wasn't getting any easier and in a fit of rage he slammed his hand that had whipped away his tears into the wall behind him, closing his fist and hitting it repeatedly. Loose rocks from the old building rained down on him but at least the building did not fall. Part of him was disappointed by that but at least the motion had caused pain to shoot up his arm temporarily. Unfortunately, once his brain registered the pain and he craved more of it, the constraints of his deal forced him to stop midway to striking the building once more. His arm shook where it remained suspended in the air as he fought against his leash that prevented him from intentionally hurting himself with the sole purpose of self-harm.

Damn you Valentino with your surgary sweet words of love, whispering promises to never abandon him and to always protect him from anyone and everyone, and from himself most all. Damn you Valentino for taking his freedom to bring relief via a knife or a noose or a very tall building away from him. Damn you Valentino for not upholding your end of the deal every time your cruel hands inflicted pain on his body, mind, and worst of all his heart.

Vox's straining hand eventually stopped fighting against the invisible wall preventing him from connecting with the very real and concrete wall he leaned against. With a hitch in his breath he brought it to where his other hand remained, both of which twisted in his dress shirt and vest. In his despair, he let loose an ear splitting scream.

The scream seemed to be the shock to the system he needed because his frantic breaths seemed to even out even though they still came unnaturally fast. He tried to focus on his breaths and counting the seconds he held them inside him and the seconds between each new one. His sister's voice coaxing him to match her breathing fluttered into his mind from a lifetime ago. He imagined she sat next to him and that the hands on his chest were hers. Her hands were so much smaller than his own, however, the allusion would not hold. Instead, he imagined the hands belonged to another, one whose hands were far closer to his if not slightly larger. He imagined a soothing yet deep voice whispering in his ear to breathe with him while the man's forehead leaned against his temple. The memory also came from a lifetime ago and yet were more recent then Olivia's.

The fantasy helped soothe him. His breathing was slowing and the fluttering of his heart no longer felt painful against his ribcage. Vox realized that the darkness of his vision was no longer due to his panic but because his eyes had fallen tightly shut. Slowly, he cracked them open. He was greeted with the sight of the dark blue of his pants where one pant leg was wrinkled from where he clutched at it earlier.

With his sight restored he sucked in a deep and shaky sigh, relief flooding him. He closed his eyes once more in exhaustion and he tipped his head back to lean against the wall. One hand fell to the ground beside him while the other lay flat against his sweaty chest.

He sat there for several minutes just focusing on his breathing.

Vox felt beyond worn out and part of him wanted to stay there and not move. He wondered if he waited long enough if he would fall asleep where he sat. He had no doubt that he would but the thought of anyone stumbling across him made his heart skip a beat. The panic attack came on from his fear of being exposed, his fear of discovery; he knew he would not let himself fall asleep here.

With great reluctance he opened his eyes. If he was not so tired he's sure that a manic laugh would have been torn from his chest because where he sat he had an unobstructed view of the Hazbin Hotel glowing from its hill off in the distance. If Vox strained his eyes hard enough he was sure he could see the glowing neon red from Alastor's radio tower on the side.

He felt like the hotel, and Alastor's tower, were mocking him. He heard Valentino's poisonous words of protection and security echoing in his mind. The Princess's promise to all of Hell sounded just as hollow. Or did it?

Vox thought of the failed extermination and the Princess's battle against Adam and his ilk. Against all odds, she and her crew had managed to hold off, and send the angels back from where they came. Her oath to protect her people and all of Hell was not a false one it would seem.

And now with the latest meeting with Heaven her goal of redemption wasn't as far fetched either. But one redeemed Sinner did not make for a successful experiment. Although, it did lend some credibility. Vox wanted to laugh at that. Even if redemption was possible, that did not mean it was possible for himself or even something he wanted. No; all he wanted was to be free of Valentino.

'We all need a little help sometimes. You just gotta know how to ask for it and how to accept it.'

Vox shut his eyes tightly. Why was he thinking of Josef at a time like this? He hadn't thought of the old man since he was alive. His soft smile and supportive hand were no more than wispy dreams to him at this point.

Help, Josef had said, was something he needed to learn how to accept.

But the last time he had accepted help he ended up with a leash around his neck. But Charlie was not Valentino, he told himself. She wasn't even Alastor. Her offered helping hand didn't come with conditions or the hope for an entertaining show. Vox thought of that first meeting with Alastor on that rooftop. He thought of the unnerving smile and mocking laughter. Charlie's smile had never felt anything but genuine along with her words of goodwill and cheer.

However, that didn't mean she could actually help. What Vox wanted, no NEEDED, was something more than trust exercises and companionable activities. Charlie couldn't help him. It was too much of an impossible feat.

He then thought of a different offer that had been extended to him recently. A drink and an open ear was all the promise that had been made. It wasn't much but it was more than he had been offered from the other demon in a long time.

Husk was an old...acquaintance. He might have thought of him as a friend once but it was clear he never was considered the same. Wouldn't be the first time. While the two hadn't been friendly with each other in quite some time, maybe there was a possibility of at least rekindling some sort of bartender-client relationship. Well, perhaps not quite that relationship. A bartender is someone you're supposed to be able to tell all your woes too. But only to bartenders that didn't belong to your greatest enemy.

'We all need a little help sometimes.'

Well perhaps Husk could at least help him get raging drunk.

With great effort, Vox pushed himself to his feet. He slowly made his way out of the alleyway and down the street. He walked a couple of blocks before he found a working VoxTek camera. With a deep breath he straightened his back and turned himself into electricity, riding the wave of electric currents. Within seconds he found his way to another camera only a couple of blocks from the Hotel. There was unfortunately none closer thanks to that old timey prick.

With each step closer the Hotel grew larger and larger. With each step, Vox felt his conviction dwindle and dwindle. Why was he doing this? For a drink?

Vox was willingly walking into another Overlord's territory without an invitation. Well, he technically did have an invitation. From said Overlord's thrall, however. But he also had another invitation. And from the Princess of Hell herself. Vox had actually agreed to do business with her when he offered to help her with future meetings with Heaven. Him going to her Hotel was only reasonable.

Yeah, because Alastor would accept that, he thought. Well fuck him, he thought further. The man was weak and dying and wouldn't likely be able to fight even the newest of souls who had fallen to Hell. Alastor could be pissy all he wanted. Vox didn't care.

And yet once he finally found his way to the Hotel's doorstep he faltered. He stood there and stared at the double doors but did not move. It wasn't too late to turn around. He could walk right back where he came from, hop back into that camera, and go to Vee Tower.

A shiver ran down his spin at the thought of going back. Adam was there. As was Valentino. He didn't feel like he could face either.

Vox wanted a drink and an open ear, well what about Velvette? No. No. He can't go to her. After all these years he had kept her in the dark about his deal with Valentino. He had done his best to shelter her. He knew that if she ever found out she would be livid and try to seek retribution for him. Icy cold fear clutched at his heart at the thought of Velvette going up against Valentino in a fight. While she had come a long way in her power in the less than 10 years of being in Hell, she still was leagues behind Valentino. And if she picked a fight with him Vox would be helpless, unable to come to her aid no matter how much he would want to. It's why he had never once told her about the abuse he experienced at the hands of Valentino.

With that thought Vox raised his fist and gave three small knocks to the door. He stood there for several seconds, wondering if anyone had actually heard his tentative knock. Should he knock again? Or should he turn around for real this time? Fuck, what if Alastor answered the door?

Before he could make a decision the door opened, startling Vox. He stared wide-eyed at the other demon who stared wide-eyed back. Angel Dust had a hold of the door and his mouth was opened slightly in shock. Neither demon spoke.

Finally, Vox cleared his throat and said, "Uhm, is Husk here?"

Angel nodded slightly. "Yeah, he's at the bar." And then nothing.

Vox continued to stand there while Angel looked at him, unmoving. "Well," said Vox slowly. "Can I come in and see him?"

Angel's eyebrows furrowed. Vox didn't think it was in confusion but rather disapproval or reluctance. Clearly Angel didn't want to let him in. And then Angel's gaze moved down slightly, landing on Vox's exposed neck. Shit. He had forgotten about the missing buttons. His hand itched to reach up and hold either end of his shirt together, blocking Angel's view of the bright red line around his neck. The spider had already seen his neck once, however. And surely he knew about Vox's death. Everyone did. Grabbing his shirt collar would only reveal further weakness.

Vox couldn't stop himself from gulping, however.

Angel's gaze softened, confusing Vox. The spider then looked into Vox's eyes, searching for something. Whatever he was looking for he must have found it because he stepped back, opening the door further. "Come on in," he said with an outstretched arm.

Vox mumbled his thanks and stepped inside. Across the lobby area he saw Husk at the bartop with his back to them, cleaning some glass. Angel's bomb enthusiast friend sat there sipping at a drink. Without another word, Angel began walking towards the bartop, not waiting for Vox to follow. Eventually Vox began to follow, trailing several steps behind Angel.

As the two approached, Angel's friend, Cherri Bomb, noticed them. "Holy shit," she said.

Husk turned around at her exclamation and his eyes widened at Vox. His eyes quickly swiveled to Angel who shrugged as he took a seat next to Cherri. Husk's gaze returned to Vox's face and then quickly looked down at his neck and then quickly up. Vox's fingers twitched so he clasped them together behind his back to prevent him from touching his neck or traveling into his pocket. At least Husk didn't stare so openly as Angel had.

"Vox," said Husk in a gruff voice. "What brings you to the hotel? You here to talk to Charlie?"

"He asked for you," said Angel, who took a large sip from his drink that he had left behind.

Husk looked at Vox in surprise. Vox swallowed. "You offered me a drink not too long ago." He cleared his throat when Husk said nothing in return. "That drink still on the table?"

Husk nodded and put the glass and rag in his hands down. "Of course. Any time." He turned around and began grabbing a different glass and a bottle of liquor. "You still prefer your bourbon on the rocks?" Vox looked at the liquor in the cat's hands and saw it was the brand he preferred. After all this time he still remembered.

Vox sat down at the open bar stool at the end of the bar. "Yeah." Husk gave a sound of acknowledgment and poured Vox his drink, setting it down in front of him. Vox grabbed it and drank half in one go. The burn down his throat was unbelievably pleasant. Without comment, Husk filled the glass further.

"Thanks," said Vox quietly. Another gruff sound of acknowledgment from Husk but nothing further. Vox took several more, smaller, sips from his drink but did not speak. He didn't know what he would say. It's not like he could come out and say, 'Hey I just had a massive panic attack in a grungy abandoned alleyway after Adam just blackmailed me into bringing him souls in the hopes that he will eventually free me from an ill fated deal I made with the very man you, Alastor, Rosie, and everyone else under the sun warned me away from but I didn't listen to and now I've been living as his thrall for the past three decades and I'm under threat of everyone in Hell finding out and as such losing any semblance of control and power I still have.' Yeah fuck that. Definitely can't say that. But it was obvious with the state that Vox was in that something had happened and he wasn't ok. Surely Angel Dust wouldn't have let him in otherwise.

As the silence stretched on the tension grew. Vox could feel Angel and Cherri Bomb having a silent conversation amongst themselves at their unexpected visitor. Husk simply stared at him, waiting for him to make the first move. After whatever silent argument Angel and Cherri were having, it was clear that Angel had lost and he gave his friend a pleading look that she ignored as she leaned forward in her seat, leaning her elbows on the bartop to look around Angel at Vox. "So," she said loudly. "What brings you to our neck of the words, Ace? I'm sure there's plenty of better bars out there for you to choose from that you probably own too."

Vox had been taking a sip of his drink when she spoke which is why he started to choke. "The fuck did you just call me?" he said through coughs.

"Ace. Duh."

Husk finally spoke. "Ace?" he said in confusion. "I thought you were a B-17 pilot, not a fighter pilot during World War II."

"You fought in World War II?" cried Cherri in excitement, placing her hands on the bartop to stand up.

Vox ignored her as he got his coughing under control, instead addressing Husk. "I was a B-17 pilot."

"Then why the Hell is she calling you Ace?" questioned Husk. "I thought only fighter pilots who have shot down five or more planes are called Ace's."

"They are," said Angel, glaring at Cherri who was leaning towards Vox, and thus getting into Angel's space. "She's referring to an old role of his. Some war movie about the Great War."

"Some war movie? Some war movie?!" said Cherri in incredulity. "It's not just some war movie. It's THE war movie of war movies! It's the war movie that all other war movies aspire to be! It's a timeless classic!!"

Husk raised his eyebrows and looked at Vox with a slight smirk. "Is that so? A timeless classic."

Vox rolled his eyes and glared down at his drink. The movie had been heralded as a classic through the ages. Up there with the likes of 'Gone with the Wind' and 'Casablanca'. From what he hears, it's still considered as such up on Earth. It was one of his earlier movies he had done and long considered the movie that truly launched his career as a movie star. It earned him his first Oscar. It was also the movie he regretted doing most for a variety of reasons.

"God yes!" Cherri said enthusiastically. "I loved watching that movie back on Earth. Even in Australia it was a huge hit!"

Angel scoffed. "Didn't that movie come out like thirty years before you were even born?"

"So!" she said, pushing Angel. "Doesn't mean I can't appreciate the classics. Don't tell me you don't think it's a masterpiece!"

Angel fidgeted in his seat and refused to look at anyone. "I mean, it's a decent enough movie I guess."

"Bullshit! I know you love that movie! With Vox being one of your favorite actors when he was alive I know you've seen that movie!" she said.

"Cherri!" he cried out in embarrassment, grabbing at the cyclops and pulling her down into her seat. "Will you shut up already??"

"Oh come on Angie," she said, laughing. "I'm only spitting straight facts here. It's a great movie."

Husk smiled at the clear discomfort from Angel and the enthusiastic display from Cherri Bomb. "Yeah so what's it about? I know you said it's of World War I. I'm assuming it's about a fighter pilot since you called Vox, Ace."

"Yeah," said Cherri who was nodding her headed. "It's about this fighter pilot who gets shot down and becomes a prisoner of war. A lot of fucked up shit happens before and during his capture. Like pretty graphic stuff too, you know, for when it was made. Vox is the main character who gets captured. He's called Ace because he has like the record for most enemy planes he's shot down."

Husk's attention shot to Vox at the mention of being a pilot who became a prisoner of war. The older man didn't know a lot about Vox's career when he was alive. It was one of the things that had originally endeared him to Vox. It wasn't every day he ran into someone who knew next to nothing about his career and life, it was a welcome change at the time of their meeting. The only other one really being Alastor, of course. But over time it was impossible for Husk to continue to be so oblivious to Vox and his time alive. Some things he learned from other Overlords. A lot he learned from Vox's drunken ramblings. Either way, he knew more than his fair share about Vox and his time during World War II.

"Fuck, and now you're tellin me that in World War II he became a pilot too? That's insane!" shouted Cherri.

Vox stared vacantly down at his drink. The ice was beginning to melt after not taking a sip for quite some time. He didn't trust that his hand would be steady if he lifted the glass. Vox absently hummed. "I learned how to fly while doing that movie, actually. It's why I became a pilot during the second war." He could feel Husk's concerned look on him.

"No fucking way," said Cherri. "That's fucking dope, man! And did you say you were a B-17 pilot? That's one of them bombers right? That's even cooler man! As a kid I always wanted to be a pilot for one of them bombers!"

Angel chuckled at that, regaining some of his mirth. "Yeah no kiddin'. I'm sure that would have been right up your alley!"

"You know it!"

The two's laughter rang out, high and loud, as Vox continued to stare at his drink. The memory from earlier, of big comforting hands placed on his chest, a deep voice whispering in his ear, soothing him through a panic attack resurfaced.

'That's it baby, just breathe for me. Only listen to my voice. Let it drown out the sounds of bombs in your head. We ain't up there. We got some time before our next run, Ace.'

Fuck. Coming here was supposed to have been calming him down, not causing him to spiral into another panic attack. Well what did he expect? Did he really think that the Hazbin Hotel of all places would offer him any sort of respite? He just really didn't think he'd think of HIM twice in one day.

"So Overlord Vox," said Cherri, drawing his attention. "Tell us about your time as a bomber pilot. I really can't believe I had no idea you were a World War II vet!"

Vox caught out of the corner of his eye Husk and Angel made eye-contact. It seemed that Angel wasn't as ignorant about Vox's life as Cherri was.

"Ehhh, Cherri. Maybe we could talk about somethin' else, yeah?" he asked his friend.

"Ahh come on, Angie. You can't tell me not to talk about a bomber pilot! Bombs are like my whole thing!"

"Yeah but-"

Vox cut off Angel before he could argue further. "It's alright Angel. The young lady wants to know. Who am I to deny her curiosity. I always aim to please!" Vox smiled his Overlord smile, gleaming with how wide it was. His tone didn't quite match the expression, however, sounding flat instead of enthusiastic. Cherri didn't seem to catch the unnaturalness as she beamed at him.

"I think you'll be quite shocked to find out that my time in the second war mirrored that movie quite a bit, actually. My crew even called me Ace as a nickname because of that roll. They found it quite amusing that I became a pilot in real life. I enjoyed it even. Enjoyed the camaraderie. They all felt like a family. Each member of the crew was vital to completing our mission and getting home safely. If someone wasn't doing their job well it spelled disaster. Even then, that didn't guarantee a crew's survival." Vox finally decided to finish his drink. He lifted it and just as he suspected, his hand was shaking. A couple drops spilled out of the sides of his mouth as he chugged the rest. The glass gave a loud 'clank' as he brought it back to the bartop. He whipped his mouth with his jacket sleeve, uncaring of ruining it.

"For a while there we earned ourselves quite the reputation. The Unkillable Shooting Star they called us. We even renamed our plane to the Shooting Star. There were several missions we went on where we were the only plane that made it back." Vox gave a humorless laugh. "Some said I was the crew's lucky Shooting Star on board; the star that always guided us back home to safety. Others said I was a curse to other B-17's that flew with us; taking all their good luck and leaving them to burn. In the end, our good luck ran out." Vox motioned to Husk to fill up his glass. He hesitated but finally complied when Vox finally looked up from his absent gaze at his glass, glaring at the bartender to obey his request. Reluctantly, Husk poured him another glass.

"We were shot down in '43. Out of ten crewmen, three died before jumping off that plane, three more died because their parachutes were shot down. One was killed by a German infantryman. And the rest of us were held as prisoners of war, where one of us died in captivity. Only me and one other were rescued and made it home alive." He took a large gulp of his drink, sloshing some of what remained onto the bartop. The enthusiasm of Cherri Bomb had disappeared at his story. She was no longer laughing in excitement. "What was it you said earlier? About that damn movie? 'A lot of fucked up shit happened before and during his capture.' Yeah, a lot of fucked up shit happened before and during my capture too," he said bitterly. He turned and looked at her, bitting out, "The Unkillable Shooting Star they called me. When I returned home. Made me an even bigger star than before. I fucking hated it."

The silence that followed his story was deafening. No one moved and no one spoke. The only sound was from Vox's slightly quickened breathing and the clinking from his ice every time he brought his glass to his mouth.

"Fuck man," Cherri said finally. "I'm ...I'm really sorry about bringing all that up. I uhh...I really didn't know about that. Honestly."

Vox sneered. "Yeah well, general rule of thumb, don't start prying into a war vets time during whatever war they fought in. Generally a lot of them fucking hated it. Or at least hated the killing."

Cherri gave a slow shrug. "I mean...this is Hell man. I think a lot of the guys who liked fighting in war are probably down here. Is it really so hard to believe that I might have thought you were one of them?"

Vox snorted into his drink. She had a fair point. And if she knew he volunteered, like his foolish and naive brother had, she would have even more reason to think that way. In life, a lot thought of him as a hero when he volunteered, thinking he wanted to serve and protect his country. In Hell, a lot thought of him as a monster, thinking he enjoyed the killing. Both were so far from the truth.

Husk leaned towards him, resting one elbow on the bartop with his forearm slightly extended towards Vox. "Hey," he said in a gentle voice. "Are you doing alright, Vox? When you walked in here, well, you didn't look so hot. And if possible you look even worse now." Cherri seemed to hunch in on herself where she sat. "Which, fair, all things considered. It's just-" Husk sighed and ran his free hand through the fur at his neck. "I've been worried about you."

Vox scoffed. "Why would you be worried about me?"

"You never walk around with your neck exposed, with good reason. And this is the second time I've seen it exposed in such a short amount of time. Things ain't alright with you. I can tell," he said in a soothing and worried voice. His deep baritone voice made him think of HIM again and Vox snapped.

"Fuck you. Fuck you and what ever false worry you have for me. You can shove it up your ass for all I care!" Vox met the feline's eyes, glaring at him. "Where was that worry thirty years ago? Where was that care and consideration for an old friend then? I don't need whatever the fuck this is! A-a-a guilty conscious? For what? Telling me to fuck off when I was just trying to help you all those years ago? Fuck you, Husk! I don't want your help! Especially not now!!"

Vox was standing and panting after his rant. His hands were on the bartop, giving him leverage over the smaller demon, looming over the cat. And yet there was no fear in Husk's eye's, only a deep sadness that Vox had never seen in them before. He was so used to seeing apathy and disinterest in them. Even anger and resentment. Never anything like sadness.

"But you did want it from me back then, didn't ya?" Husk said simply. It was formed as a question, but it was said with a certain level of finality like it was the undisputed truth. He only needed Vox's rant to confirm it. "Why, Vox? What did you need help with?"

Vox was left speechless, reeling from the question. He racked his mind for something to say but came up blank. Before he could think too hard though he felt clawing at his pants as something small and quick scurried up his leg. He stumbled backwards as Niffty hung herself over his head, looking upside down at Vox's screen.

Demented giggles could be heard as her giant eye stared unflinching into his. "Hehehehe. My bad boy is back! I've been waiting for him to return. I didn't get to show him my updated bug collection last time!" Just as quick as she had when she climbed up Vox's legs and back, she scurried down and plopped herself in front of Vox on the bartop, bringing a wooden box down in between her legs. Vox recognized the box as where she kept her bug collection.

"No, Nifft. He doesn't want to see your bug collection," sighed Angel exasperatedly, trying to grab the small woman and pull her away. She tried biting him, causing him to retract his hands for fear of being caught between her sharp tiny teeth. She giggled some more at the action.

"He DOES want to see my bug collection. He always loved seeing the new bugs I killed when he and Sir were friends."

Loved might be a strong word for it. More like he tolerated it. But he never told her that. It was always easier letting her painstakingly show him every single new addition to her collection instead of interrupting her and making her upset when he wouldn't give the appropriate 'ooh's' and 'aah's' each time. Alastor always said he was spoiling and indulging her too much.

Right now her collection was a welcome distraction. She opened up the box and she began to pull out bug after bug, rambling about each torturous death she inflicted upon the poor unsuspecting insects. He was barely listening as he gazed into the box and saw that her collection had grown quite a bit. There were several bugs he didn't recognize. And then he saw a tuft of fur, white with tints of red at some of the ends. While she rambled he reached out and touched the fur. Angel froze from where he sat beside him. The fur felt incredibly familiar.

"Oh that!" Niffty had noticed his outstretched hand rubbing the fur between his fingers. She grabbed it and brandished it in his face, smiling widely. "That's my crown jewel. I tore it from the biggest bug I had ever seen!"

Vox reached out and began to stroke the fur again. "A big bug, you say?" Vox heard Angel audibly gulp. "What sort of bug was it exactly?"

"A giant moth!" she shrieked and then giggled some more.

He stared at the fur, knowing exactly where the fur had come from. Angel began to stutter, attempting to defend the smaller demon.

"L-l-look Vox. She didn't know any better. She didn't mean anything bad by it, I swear! She just get's overenthusiastic sometimes, really! Please don't-"

Vox began to laugh. A fully body laugh that shook his shoulders. He clutched at his stomach and put his free hand on the bartop to keep him from falling over. Even to his own ears the laughter sounded maniacal. It didn't help that Niffty decided to join in, adding her own deranged giggles to Vox's laugh.

After several moments, Vox's laughter died down and he weazed as he bent over. He rubbed tears from his eyes that he knew wasn't just from the laughter but no one else needed to know that. He opened up his eyes and looked down at Niffty who sat on her knees, grinning up at Vox. He smiled back at her, rubbing one of his hands through her hair and down the side of her head. She leaned into it when he rubbed a thumb over her temple. "Oh Niffty. You truly are a demeanted little creature aren't you?"

"Hehe. Yeah," she beamed at him.

Vox finally sat back down in his barstool, propping his head up on one of his hands. He gave a soft smile to Niffty and said, "Go on. Show me what else you got."

She giggled and launched back into the box, sifting through everything with impossibly more enthusiasm. Surprisingly the calm that he was hoping to achieve had actually been brought by Niffty of all people. Seeing Valentino's pulled out fur brought him more cheer then he would have expected. This explained the bald spot that Valentino had been sporting months back that he grumbled about after a night out. He had just assumed it occurred from a rough bout of sex but he was pleasantly surprised to find out that wasn't the case. Good for you Nifft. Not only was Adam an unwitting victim of hers but Valentino. Maybe he should just let her loose in Vee Tower with an angelic knife. Take Velvette out for an afternoon of shopping and give all his employees the day off. Maybe she could take care of his two problems at home. Make them both go up against their feisty little attacker once more. He chuckled to himself. That would be nice.

He ignored the looks that were thrown back and forth at each other by the other three remaining at the bar. He didn't care to converse with any of them further. Niffty was a far better source of relief. Let them feel baffled by Vox's reaction at finding out Niffty had torn a tuft of his boyfriend's fur out. He really couldn't care less that his reaction would be considered odd to an outside observer.

As Niffty continued with her show-and-tell, she made herself comfortable by leaning her back against Vox's chest. It reminded Vox so much of years past. The only thing missing was the sounds of a distant radio with soft humming accompanying it and smells from a cooking cajun dinner. How his aching heart could not keep taking such bittersweet reminders of his past.

Eventually Angel Dust and Cherri Bomb moved themselves to a couch, whispering amongst themselves at a distance while they watched him and Niffty. Husk busied himself with cleaning up glasses and the counter, looking at Vox out of the corner of his eyes. He wondered if everyone was worried that he would lash out at Niffty or if they were just worried. Didn't matter. Vox actually felt content.

He heard more distant whispering, this time coming from the balcony above. Without moving his head, Vox looked upwards and saw Charlie with her girlfriend, the two aiming for nonchalance but missing by a mile as they stared at him. Vox's money was on Angel being the one to alert them to his presence and no doubt everything that had transpired since his arrival. The fact that the Princess hadn't already come bursting down the stairs to enthusiastically speak to Vox indicated she had been forewarned to proceed with caution. He bristled at the thought she felt the need to handle him with 'kiddy gloves' as it were.

She walked down the stairs and came to stand to the side and slightly behind Vox. She wrung her hands together without speaking. He sighed, annoyed with her restrained behavior. He almost missed the tactless and abrasive way she tended to be. He supposed she really was learning how to navigate others better. Vox thought that was a good thing if they had any hope of making any sort of headway with their Heavenly Meetings.

"Hello, Princess," he drawled, not looking away from Niffty's collection. "What can I do for you?"

"Well actually, I was going to ask you the same thing," she gave a nervous chuckle. "Angel said you came here slightly...uhhh...disheveled?" Out of the corner of his eye, Vox saw Angel make a cutting motion in front of his neck and then threw his head into his hands when Charlie plowed on. "He said you also had a rather uncomfortable conversation about some Earth war. Uhm. That you were in. I want to make sure you're ok."

God she sounded so incredibly sincere. Always so fucking sincere.

'We all need a little help sometimes. You just gotta know how to ask for it and how to accept it,' Josef had said. 'You'd be surprised by the number of people who would be willing to lend a helping hand.'

'I want you to know that you can ask me for help...if you want any,' Charlie had said.

For the first time in a long time he wanted to ask for help. But he knew he couldn't. Just because she wanted to help doesn't mean she could.

"Why of course I'm fine, Princess!" Vox said with a wide smile. Niffty's distraction helped him get his footing underneath him and feel able to pull his Overlord and CEO mask back on. Ever the charmer and always with a winning smile. The only issue is that Charlie had seen him without his mask at this point. It made it harder to fool people when they had seen underneath. "I came here for a few drinks, which your bartender so graciously supplied me with, and now you and I can get to business!" Vox swiveled in his seat to face Charlie, crossing his legs and placing one elbow on the bartop to lean against. She didn't even look down at his neck. More tact indeed.

"Business?" she questioned with a hopeful glint in her eyes. "You don't mean to become a benefactor of the Hotel, do you?"

"NO! No, no, no. Ha ha. Nothing like that," said Vox with raised hands.

"But you said that if I can redeem one Sinner then you would sponsor my hotel. And Heaven confirmed that Sir Pentious had been redeemed! That means you HAVE to help out the Hotel!" she said with a smile, pointing at him as if she had made a revolutionary point.

Husk snorted. "Wait you said what?"

"I did not say that!" shouted Vox.

"Yes you did!" said Charlie.

Vox brought his hands to his head in exasperation. "I was joking! Can't you tell when someone is joking??"

"We made a deal!" she pointed at him again, this time accusatory. "We shook on it!"

"Wait what?" cried Angel from the couch.

"No we did not!" said Vox, regretting ever coming to the hotel. "You grabbed my hand and yelled 'Deal' as if that means a deal was struck! Both parties have to agree to the deal, otherwise it's not valid!"

"What about the honor system?" she whined.

"Oh fuck you, and Adam, and the whole honor system straight to Heaven and back!" he said with a huff.

"What does Adam have to do with this?" asked Vaggie who came to stand next to Charlie with crossed arms.

Because the bastard locked him into a non-deal too based on the damned 'honor system'. Wait, Charlie didn't lock him into shit. He doesn't have to do shit with the hotel! "Fucking nothing. Fuck him, I said. And fuck this whole damned place. I don't even know why I came to this blasted place."

"Why DID you come here?" questioned Vaggie with a narrowed eye.

"If people will fucking listen, for ONCE, they will know that I said I came here for a stiff drink and to help Charlie with business, NOT relating to the running of this stupid hotel! But with the stupid meetings with Heaven!" Vox threw up his hands in the air before crossing his arms in agitation.

Charlie's face lit up. "Oh yes! The next meeting! It'll be occurring in a couple of days!"

"Yes! Finally!" he growled out.

"Yeah I suppose we really should talk strategy about that. We haven't seen or talked to each other since the last meeting," she said contemplatively.

"That ended disastrously," he couldn't help but add petulantly.

Charlie rubbed the back of her head in embarrassment. "Ha ha. Yeeaaahhh. It pretty much was a disaster. I suppose we should head to my office and discuss things."

Vox got to his feet, grabbing ahold of his drink when Vaggie waved her hands in indignation. "Whoa whoa whoa! You don't mean alone, do you Charlie? With him? You can't be serious!"

Vox rolled his eyes. "You do realize that you're going to have to leave us alone during these meetings with Heaven, right? You better get used to it."

Vaggie looked at Charlie pleadingly. "But Charlie-!"

"He's right, Vaggie. It's something that is going to happen quite a lot, I'm sure. I have a feeling there's going to be quite a few meetings with Heaven in the future. You're going to have to trust him," Charlie said soothingly, grabbing her girlfriend's hand.

"Like Hell I'm going to trust him!" she shouted, but then sighed. "But I guess I'll get used to it at least."

"That's the spirit!" said Charlie. "Now Vox, follow me!"

Vox followed Charlie without another word, only giving a smug look towards Vaggie who glared back. As they traveled towards Charlie's office she blathered on which Vox paid very little attention to. Once they had gotten far enough away, she began to quiet down. Vox looked at her and noticed she wore a far more subdued expression as opposed to before. She didn't look at him when she next spoke. "Are you sure you're alright, Vox? I want to make sure."

Vox sighed. "I'm fine, Princess. You don't need to worry about me."

She gave a small smile at that. "You know I'm going to."

Damn you Charlie. Why can't you just leave it? "There's nothing I can say that's going to get you to stop worrying and asking, is there?"

She stopped walking and he stopped with her, turning towards her, waiting for her to speak. "Maybe if you tell me the truth about what's going on with you, I might."

He inwardly grimaced. Yeah, not likely. If anything, him telling her the truth would only make her feel worse. He thought of Velvette and the fact she would likely feel the same way. Ignorance is sometimes sweet beautiful bliss.

Other times it only gets you into trouble and results in an unbreakable soul bond.

"Look. This is Hell," he said. "Nothing is ever...perfect for anyone down here. We're all just trying to make the most of it. I know you want to help everyone and make things better for everyone but that's not realistic. You can't save everyone, Princess. Just-" he sighed. "Just let me figure my own shit out, alright? I can handle it."

Charlie looked at him with a sad expression. She looked frustrated and unhappy with his response. She crossed her arms and sighed. "I get it. It's hard to accept help. And me pushing too much only makes things worse. It did with Angel." Vox furrowed his eyebrows at that. What exactly happened with Angel? And did it involve Valentino? Surely. "But I want you to know that if you DO need help I'm here. The hotel's doors are always open."

Vox shook his head. "You keep saying things like that but you don't even know me. Not really. We've had a handful of interactions and I've helped you out a handful of times. That's it. I'm an Overlord, Princess. I'm not a good person."

She smirked. "An Overlord that not once has asked for anything in return from me. I thought Overlords were supposed to be constantly looking for ways to exploit those around them?"

Vox groaned. "You can't SAY things like that, Princess! Especially to an Overlord! You're just ASKING to be taken advantage of. You need to be smarter than that!" He rubbed his empty hand down his face, grinding his fingers into his shut eyes. "And besides, it's not like me helping you out is exactly selfless. I've got my own reasons for working with you."

"Like trying to save an old friend?" Vox opened up his eyes and glared at her. She was smiling coyly with her head cocked to the side. "Seems pretty selfless to me."

He groaned again and covered his eyes. "God, you are so frustrating," he said under his breath. "And so so naïve."

She huffed. "I'm really not." Vox looked at her over the top of his hand with an unimpressed look. "I'm not! Or at least not as much as people think. You forget, I grew up here in Hell. I know what this place is like. And I know how cruel it can be. When all anyone is shown is cruelty it makes them cruel. But if they are given a place to heal, somewhere where they are shown a little kindness, then their true colors are revealed."

"I would argue the opposite," he said, looking away, unable to meet her sincere expression any longer. "One's true colors are revealed when a person is at their lowest. Hell reveals who everyone truly is, to their core. Liars, murderers, and thieves. This is the most pure look at humanity that you will ever get."

"Perhaps you're right." Vox felt unexpectedly sad at her response. He didn't expect her to agree. "Because even down here, with people being cruel to each other left and right, there's still so much good too. If all anyone would be is cruel when faced with this Hell hole then there would be no kindness and compassion down here at all." She stepped towards him and grabbed his arm. He tried not to flinch. "You wouldn't have just now tried telling me what to say and what not to say in order to prevent people from taking advantage of me. You just would have done it yourself." She smiled and squeezed his arm. "I know you've done a lot of bad things, Vox. I'm not ignorant of that. But I also think that you're a lot kinder than you think. You just need some room to act on that kindness."

God the look she was giving. Her smile. Her reassuring eyes. Her comforting hand on his arm. She reminded him of Olivia and it hurt. Both of them were far too good for the worlds they lived in. "I'm not a good person, Princess," he whispered.

She shrugged. "Well maybe you can be. It's never too late." She dropped her hand from his arm and began walking backwards, continuing their trek to her office. "And stop with all that Princess talk! If we're going to be working together I would much rather you just stick to calling me Charlie."

He gave a small smile and shook his head. "On a first name basis with royalty. Who'd've thunk."

As he walked with her and he watched her continue to babble with a wide smile, seeming for all the world as if she hadn't a care in the world, he couldn't help but feel her cheer was contagious. It was only hours before when he was in a panic in his office, and then in a panic in some alleyway. The mistakes of his past had been drug out and he'd been forced to face them, repeatedly today, and yet he was able to forget about that, if only briefly as he walked with her. She was a shining beacon in the worst place in existence and he hoped that she would never lose that shine. Unfortunately, the world is a cruel place and Hell even more so. Everyone lost their shine eventually, it was a fact of life. For the first time in a long time Vox wanted to protect that shine though, shelter her as much as possible.

In all the chaos, Vox didn't even once think about how Alastor never showed his face.

___________________

Alastor lingered in the shadows on the balcony, alerted to the television's arrival by his shadow as soon as he stepped foot on the front steps of the hotel. His arrival was unexpected but his appearance was even more so. He stepped through the open front doors, courtesy of Angel Dust, and followed the other towards the bar. As soon as he stepped inside, Alastor's eyes were drawn to Vox's neck.

It had been so long since the last time he saw the old scar. It was only in Vox's early days in Hell did he freely walk around with his neck exposed. With his notoriety growing more and more, Sinners couldn't keep their eyes away. It made Vox uncomfortable. Alastor still remembers the day he provided the other with a red turtleneck, soft and loose at the neck so as not to create further discomfort. Vox looked endlessly touched by the gift and wore it often. Alastor played it off as if it was no big deal and yet still relished in the praise loaded on him by his former companion. It truly was of no consequence procuring the clothing garment, he hadn't even paid for it, and yet any attention he could get was a welcome one.

After that Alastor was really the only one that Vox would willingly allow to see his neck without anything covering it. Those moments were few and far between and yet every once in a while he would dress down, unbothered with leaving his neck vulnerable and exposed. Even with all the fights the two had been in over the past thirty years or so, he had not once seen Vox's neck without his high collar and bowtie. And yet here he was, walking around with his dress shirt open, the top buttons missing, and his suit wrinkled.

Surely the other demon hadn't gotten into a physical fight. So rarely did he ever fight his own fights anymore, usually using his unsporting hypnosis on any threats or immediately frying them to a crisp. And Vox never picked fights with other Overlords. He always said it was a bad way to conduct business. Alastor was of course the exception to this rule, but he wasn't fighting anyone anytime soon.

What had happened to him?

Vox sat down at the bar and drank half his drink in one go; Husk filling it without a word. That was also strange. Vox rarely drank in front of those he considered his enemies, or at least not as close allies. He would allow himself a drink to sip at and be perceived as being social but rarely did he drink in excess around those he didn't trust. Husk may have been a demon he once would have partook in this behavior with but Alastor knew that had long since passed many years ago. And Alastor seriously doubted Vox held much good will towards the spider or his noisy friend. There was too much baggage, if you will, between Vox and Angel due to their mutual...acquaintance.

His demeanor was also off. No fake smiles or talk of business deals. No putting on a show for the others. He was just...sitting there, and drinking. He appeared to be not fully present. Almost vacant. It again reminded Alastor of those early days of their acquaintance. It also made him think of Vox's reaction after the meeting with Heaven. He had ran off looking startled. Looking cornered. Had he fought with Adam?

'So what if he had,' hissed his shadow. 'If the exterminator and he have fought this is good. Perhaps the exterminator will take care of this problem for you since you seem incapable of completing it yourself.'

Alastor's ears pinned back on his head, revealing his annoyance despite being completely submerged in shadows. It's not like he could do anything to Vox at this point; Alastor was too weak. And besides, Vox was currently a useful tool that was helping Charlie with Heaven.

'There is no guarantee he will succeed in his endeavors. You are only prolonging the inevitable.'

'I said I would dispose of him once I have what I need, didn't I?' huffed Alastor in his own head, knowing that the shadow would hear it.

'As you've said in the past as well. And yet there he still sits,' hissed the shadow.

'I need him,' thought Alastor. 'I will not survive without the antidote.'

'I know,' it hissed. 'But says who he will be the one to provide it for you?'

Alastor ignored his shadow, thinking the creature foolish, and instead looked down at the subject of their discussion and watched as he continued to sit there as the others spoke of some old film of his. How irritating. Did they have nothing better to discuss? It appeared that even Vox was not in the mood for such topics. Strange.

'Do not fool yourself into thinking he is any different. He is still the same demon you have always known. And one you should have disposed of ages ago.'

Alastor scowled. Yes he was aware of that. He did not need to constantly be reminded.

'Oh but you do,' it hissed. 'I had thought that you had long since gotten over his charms, realized what sort of demon he was, and yet when the moment of truth came you hesitated. No; more than that. You walked away instead of finishing the job.'

Alastor's mind flashed to memories from over seven years ago. A fight that had torn through the city the likes of which it had never seen, leaving districts in ruin and countless Sinners dead due to being caught in the middle. Alastor's body had been ravaged, nearly torn apart, bleeding profusely. Vox was left in an even worse state. Alastor remembered standing over his unmoving body, watching as he struggled to suck in air through the collapsed lungs and protruding ribs from his chest. Blood was caught in his throat and he was unable to expel it without great pain. Only one eye was seen, half-lidded and struggling to remain open; the other half of his face cracked with wires exposed. Alastor's shadow loomed behind him, ready to end things once and for all. Alastor held his cane in his hand in a bruising grasp. 'Please,' Vox had choked out. Only 'please'. Alastor had fled.

'And you doomed us to seven years of suffering at the hands of the Mistress as a result.' The hissing screech made his ears pull back, attempting to shield himself from the harsh sound. 'The only reason I do not tell the Mistress of your thoughts is because I refuse to be condemned to the pit once again for your failures!'

Although he was loath to admit it, he was thankful for his shadow's discretion. There had been many times over the many years of their association that his shadow had refrained from informing the Mistress of his actions and thoughts. If she knew all of it she would have ended his life ages ago. His thoughts of breaking their deal would have been grounds enough for her to have killed him, slowly and torturously. He shivered at the thought.

Vox began talking to the others down below, talking about his time as a pilot in one of Earth's great wars. Alastor scowled. He appeared sad. Alastor knew that his time as a soldier was not a pleasant one for him but this level of melancholy was uncharacteristic. He suspected his mood was influenced not by his tale but something else. And then Husk was talking to him, concern laced through every word. He had noticed the odd behavior as well, then. But of course he had. The state of the always impeccably dressed Overlord made it obvious something was wrong. Vox did not appreciate the concern, however, shouting at Alastor's thrall, "I don't want your help! Especially not now!!"

Everyone was quiet. Everyone was waiting for a response.

"But you did want it from me back then, didn't ya?" Vox appeared stricken, unprepared for such a response. And he still seemed equally unprepared when Husk further asked what he needed help with.

Niffty soon interrupted, distracting everyone with her bugs. As always, Vox indulged her weird obsession which pleased her greatly. A tuft of white fur was revealed along with its origin. Niffty had taken it from the disgusting moth? When had she done this? And Vox's response, the laughter was unhinged, sounding like from a madman at the end of his rope. It was...fascinating. It would not have imagined Vox to find mirth in his partner's pain and misfortune.

'Wouldn't you?' hissed the shadow. 'When has he ever concerned himself with the feelings and wellbeing of his partners?'

Alastor swallowed and hunched his shoulders. His shadow continued. 'You remember how he was. Just like all the others. Unbothered with your discomfort and uncaring of your boundaries. He was only concerned with his own desires and feelings. He has always been cruel.'

Yes, Alastor remembered. He remembered Vox's reluctance to accept Alastor's feelings. He pushed and pushed. Never satisfied. Always desiring more. Why could he not just accept things as they were? Why could he not just....stay put, for once?

'Nothing and no one is ever good enough for him,' whispered the shadow. 'Perhaps even the insect no longer is as well.'

Wouldn't that be something to see. He wondered if Valentino would fight to keep Vox within his grasp or if he would declare he never cared for him in the first place. Would that irk Vox? Would he fight to drag Valentino back to himself like he had with Alastor? Would they engage in fights on the streets of Hell, ripping and tearing at each other just as Vox and Alastor do? Part of him wished for it. Another part, one that Alastor did not understand, did not.

For thirty years now, not once did Vox and Valentino fight. At least not publicly. Alastor remembered a time when his and Vox's arguments were private and not the very public brawls for everyone to see, uncaring of discretion or decorum. Time and time again, Vox would find him, needle and needle until Alastor would be unable to keep from lashing out. Did Vox needle Valentino? Or was it the other way around? Alastor remembered the lecherous looks Valentino would shoot the other upon their earliest acquaintance. It always seemed so predatory. Alastor has done his best to avoid the two of them, especially together ever since their partnership became official. He did not know if Valentino still looked at Vox in that way. Alastor looked down at Vox's open collar.

Soon enough Charlie appeared on the balcony, mere steps away from him. His presence in the shadows went unnoticed by her and Vaggie as the two conversed in hushed whispers.

"What should I say to him? How should I approach this?" asked Charlie nervously.

"This is your hotel that he showed up at unannounced, babe. He needs to be aware of the fact he can't just do that," said Vaggie.

"Yes but I invited him here. Multiple times now. I don't want him to feel like he can't come here," argued Charlie.

"He's an Overlord, Charlie," said Vaggie. "He's not some random Sinner seeking redemption. He can't just come and go as he pleases. We're trying to run a business here, not a bar. If he wants a drink he can go somewhere else."

"Husk invited him too though. They're friends. I think..." Charlie trailed off. "If Husk invited him here then he should be allowed to come if he wants. We let Angel have Cherri over whenever!"

Vaggie crossed her arms. "Which is something we've already discussed and how she really needs to make a decision on if she's going to be a resident or not. There needs to be more concrete hard rules on people coming here if we want to be taken seriously."

"Yes I know," sighed Charlie. "But also I don't want to push people as much. It doesn't work. I want to just, I don't know, let people know they have a safe place to be here."

Vaggie uncrossed her arms and began to rub Charlie's arm. "I know, babe. But like I said, he's an Overlord. He's not like other Sinners. He can take care of himself."

"I suppose." Charlie did not look convinced. "I'm just going to go see if he's ok and ask why he's here."

Charlie and Vaggie descended the stairs, conversing with Vox about drinks and business. He heard them discuss Vox becoming a benefactor. Absolutely not, he thought. Not while I'm here. Thankfully Vox put that concern to rest and spoke of Heaven. Yes, that is good. They needed to get Heaven to give Charlie the antidote. That was what was important.

His shadow hissed in agreement as he watched Charlie and Vox wonder off in the direction of her office. He thought of following, clinging to the shadows to listen to their conversation but he was stopped as he listened to the conversation of the Hotel crew left behind in the lobby.

"Ok. I think we can all agree that was fuckin' weird," said Cherri Bomb. "That was weird, right? Angie?"

The spider sighed and threw his head onto the back of the couch. "Yeah that was fuckin' weird. You don't think something happened between him and...you know?" He directed his question towards Husk, shooting the cat demon an uneasy look.

"Who?" asked Vaggie, looking between Angel Dust and Husk with a furrowed brow.

"Valentino," huffed Husk. Alastor felt his head whip towards his thrall at that. Did he know something Alastor did not?

"Aren't they partners? Business and otherwise. Why would you think something happened between them?" questioned Vaggie.

A look was exchanged between Angel and Husk. Alastor felt his eyes narrow at the two. They certainly knew something. And Husk had kept it from him.

"Yeah we, uhh, we saw Vox digging through some trash the other week outside his tower," said Angel. "After he came to the Hotel. He was all stressed and his neck was exposed. Like it is now. Real weird. But he also had a hand-shaped bruise on his neck. It-" Angel rubbed at his arms, looking away. "It's a little too famila' for me. If you catchin my drift."

Vaggie and Cherri's expressions softened. Cherri placed her hand on Angel's thigh which he grasped thankfully with one of his lower arms. "Yeah," said Vaggie softly. "I do. But that doesn't mean something's happened with Valentino."

"Yea' but what about the meeting with Heaven?" said Angel. "You told us about Vox's blowout and weird interaction with Adam afterwards. And when you all came home even Al looked downright, I don't know-" he shrugged his shoulders.

"Concerned," supplied Husk.

The shadow hissed. Alastor's shoulders hunched.

"Yeah, that...I guess. I mean you knows the man better than any of us," said Angel.

"Trust me," huffed Husk. "The man was concerned for sure. Wasn't there but whatever happened between Vox and Adam shook Al. Something's for sure up with Vox. And it ain't good."

Damn the former Overlord. He always was far too observant. Pried too much too. He still remembered the irksome comments he would make while still an Overlord, talking to Alastor of the annoyed look on his face any time Valentino was around, especially when the loathsome insect would cozy up far too much with Vox. Husk was always way to presumptuous and assumed too much. He also remembered Husk's dislike of Valentino back then too, echoing Alastor's own opinions. 'A hand-shaped bruise' Angel said. A cold sense of dread ran up his back. His shadow then placed its claws on his shoulders.

'That is none of your concern, remember? If the bug has hurt him then the television has no one to blame but himself,' it hissed.

He swallowed. Yes, he thought. That is what he told Vox back then too.

Conversation continued below him and not once did he retreat from his hiding place. He thought of Vox and his Vee's, the empire he had built. It far surpassed anything that Alastor would have assumed the other man would go on to eventually build and yet he had assumed, hoped, that he would be meant for big things. Despite the sorry state he had found the other in on that rooftop Alastor saw a spark, a power, that not many possessed. And it only grew with time. It was exhilarating to see and even more exhilarating to guide. He doesn't remember when he started to see that spark disappear. Lies, he thought. If he thought too long on it he would hazard a guess it was a little over thirty years ago.

Alastor was drug from his musings by Vox and Charlie eventually re-entering the lobby. He did not know for how long they had been in there but long enough for most of the inhabitants to have left save Husk and Vaggie. Charlie spoke animatedly to Vox who wore a small yet oddly fond smile on his face. The picture box also looked less agitated while with her, almost relaxed. He certainly looked better than he had when he arrived.

Vox parted ways with a promise to see her at the next meeting with Heaven just days away.

Alastor felt his shadow begin to buzz with an excitement at his back, it's energy pulsing around him. It made him uneasy for its excitement oftentimes boded ill-will. 'Yes,' it hissed. 'Yes she is here. No more waiting. No more hesitating.'

He whipped around, staring wide-eyed at his shadow. Surely it could not mean HER??

A knock at the front door of the Hotel rung out like the loud 'thwack' of an executioners axe. Those in the lobby stared at it without any of Alastor's own trepidation. Surely they assumed Vox to have returned after his recent departure. But Alastor's shadow made it clear they should not be expecting him.

Each step Charlie took towards the door seemed to match the pounding of his heart. 'I told you,' whispered the shadow. 'Says who Vox would be the one to provide you with what you so desperately need?'

Charlie opened the door with a smile, offering a greeting to her presumed newest pet project, and then froze.

"Hello, dearest. How I have missed you."

A desperate cry tore itself from Charlie who flung herself into the waiting arms of her mother, the Queen of all of Hell herself.

Vaggie and Husk stood equally stunned, staring at the reunited mother and daughter. They couldn't believe their eyes, nor could Alastor.

The dread he felt only increased once Lilith turned her eyes up and to the balcony, finding Alastor's wide eyes with ease from where he still stood shrouded in darkness. And then she smiled.

Notes:

Welp! Lillith has finally made an appearance! We shall see where that goes.

I'm not sure how happy I am with Alastor's POV in this chapter. I still feel like I'm not sure about how to write him and his perspective. The next chapter is entirely his POV though, with more flashbacks. I'm excited about the flashback part for sure though!

As always, stay tuned for the next chapter!

Chapter 12: A Deal

Summary:

It's 1907 and Alastor meets with someone who can offer him his greatest desire. In the present, Alastor has a reluctant meeting with Lilith, the Queen of Hell.

Notes:

Well I'm back! Wasn't anticipating this to take me this long. The good news is I finally sat down and more-or-less mapped out every single chapter for the rest of this story. And wow, when I started this story I did not think that it would turn into this giant thing and now I'm planning on writing a total of 40 chapters and two multi-chaptered stories after that. That is just, wow. But for those who love this story that's good news for you because you got a lot more to come!

Trigger Warning for this chapter: blood magic, some gore and canon typical violence, minor character death

1907

Alastor's palms were sweaty where they clasped at each paddle, pushing his boat further and further into the bayou. Darkness creeped around him the further he traveled along the water, branches growing thick above his head. He huffed with each pull of the rows towards him, pushing the boat forward while he faced down the river towards the path he came down. He watched the light get smaller and smaller the further he rowed.

He'd never travelled this far into the bayou on his own. The noises of the marshy wetland that he was intimately familiar with took on an eeriness he had never felt before with the knowledge of what he was about to do. He couldn't help but stare at the bag sitting at the bottom of the boat with weariness, knowing fully well what was inside. His mother would kill him if she saw him with such an object. If anyone in their community saw him with it, he'd be even more of a social outcast too.

But he needed it. He had no other options. Nothing else had worked. He'd tried to use Priestess Maxine and his mother's teachings, but nothing ever happened. Any sort of attempts at magic he used did nothing. No Lwa ever showed themselves to him. Useless, just like he always thought. A shiver of fear and shame ran through him at such a thought and his mother's disapproving voice reprimanded him in his mind.

Sweat rolled down the back of his neck that he told himself was simply from the heat and physical exertion. He wasn't nervous. Not one bit.

He was certainly nervous, however, when he went into that old witch's shop. Black magic, his mother said. Unholy arts, Priestess Maxine said. He and all the other children in their community were warned away from the old woman stating that she practiced an evil that was even darker than the Devil himself. Her magic wasn't something that Voodoo recognized, or any other religion for that matter. It was something entirely new and unique. To dabble in her brand of magic would spell worse than death for you.

He didn't believe in such things, however. Not at all. It was just stories like the boogeyman to scare children into obeying their parents and elders. He wasn't a child anymore and he wasn't going to let some scary stories prevent him from doing what he had to do.

Further and further he went. The water lapped at the boat, gently rocking him to and fro. Cicadas were constantly singing their song in the trees, soothing his anxious mind. Every once and a while the water would be disturbed, speaking to the creatures that lay beneath but never once fully revealing themselves. It made Alastor feel on edge. Secrets, his mother had once said, were in abundance in the bayou. It was the perfect place to store yours just as she once had. Her secret love and its violent end. At the thought his grip tightened and he rowed on with a renewed vigor. He was doing all of this for her because she deserved retribution.

Finally, Alastor arrived at his destination. A small clearing in the darkness where he could sit and do what he had to. He brought his boat to land, tying a rope around a tree and exiting with the bag. He walked to the center of the clearing and sat. With a deep breath he opened the bag and pulled what was inside out.

A black book sat in his lap. Voodoo symbols were etched on the front, which had originally drawn him to the object. Priestess Maxine's voice sounded in his head, warning him of Demons presenting themselves as false Lwa when they are anything but. He had the same thought when he first saw the book. Almost as if she could read his mind, the old witch came up behind him and told him about other methods and versions of the same magic and how no one should limit themselves to only one way of living and thinking. Out of all the objects in the shop it was the most familiar. Despite his constant protests of learning anything about Voodoo it was a comfort so he decided to purchase the book. But the witch gave it to him for free with an unnerving smile. It stretched too wide, showing all of her teeth, and never wavered. It disturbed him.

He flipped through the book, looking for the spell that the old witch had pointed out to him, saying that it would be the one to help him with what he sought, never mind he never told her what he wanted to accomplish. But she was right, the spell spoke of a spirit, a shadow, that could do his bidding. That was exactly what he wanted and needed. Despite the book presenting as being Voodoo it not once spoke of the spirits being called Lwa.

He perused the spell further. He'd already read over it several times, but he still read through it again. He was unsure what he was hoping for by reading through it again, perhaps the price being paid changing? He was unsure. Either way it made him nervous.

Don't be ridiculous, Alastor. The price it asks for is ridiculous. His eternal soul? What a laugh. People spoke of souls and sin, Heaven and Hell. It was all fairy tales. There were no souls. None of it was real. Then why would he go all the way out here to try a spell when he didn't even think it would work?

His hands were shaking. He clutched them together desperately trying to get them to stop. He wouldn't have come out here if he didn't think there was a chance it would work. And if it would work then that meant he would have to sign away his soul. Sign it away to this "Mistress". The book was very vague about who or what she was but there were a couple allusions to her throughout the book. It was clear that whoever she was, she was the one that this sort of magic drew from. The question was would his soul be an appropriate price to pay?

Of course it would be, he thought. Anything for his mother.

Without any further hesitation he placed the book on the grass, turned to the appropriate page and got to work preparing for the ritual. He pulled out a mortar and pestle and began throwing various herbs into the bowl, all of which the old witch had happily supplied him with, also free of charge. He began grinding them together. Once he was finished, he pulled out some white paper wrapped around something that was leaking and starting to smell. With a gulp he unwrapped it and stared down at two eyes looking back at him. They looked human, so very much like a humans, but the witch had insisted it was a pair of eyes that belonged to a pig. He didn't know if he believed her. He dropped both eyes into the mortar and took the pestle back up in a shaking hand and crushed one of the eyes with a disgusting squelching noise. He gagged and clenched his eyes tightly shut, almost as if to protect his own eyes. He mixed the eyes with the herbs and once it felt sufficiently crushed, he opened his eyes back up. There was a pinkish paste at the bottom of the mortar that he forced himself not to think too hard about.

Alastor then took out a bowl from his bag, dumping the paste into it. He took out a sealed mason jar with a liquid tinted slightly red inside. The witch did not tell him exactly what it was and part of him didn't want to know. He supposed he could look more closely at the ingredients list but since the witch had provided him with everything he needed, he chose not to, especially after she provided him with the eyes. He poured the liquid into the bowl and began mixing it together with the paste using a spoon. Once the paste was adequately dispersed, he paused.

Alastor reached one last time into his bag and pulled out a sharp knife. He stared at it and watched what little light that made it through the trees glint off of the blade. He ran his thumb lightly over the edge, feeling its sharpness. With the slightest pressure it would cut through his skin with ease. And that's what he would do soon enough.

He put the knife to the side, waiting to be used. With a deep breath he grabbed the book back up and began to read.

The words were unfamiliar and fell clumsily from his mouth. The spell was in what he could only assume to be Latin but was unsure of this. He did not think to question the witch about it but thought that perhaps he should have. It was unfortunately too late to do so now though. He continued reading, stumbling his way through the spell, unsure if he was pronouncing anything correctly. As he read, he grabbed the knife and held onto it with a vice-like grip. He then brought it to his hand and cut it with a hiss. Blood pooled in his palm which then spilled over into the bowl. He did not know how much of his blood was necessary and assumed the more the better. He allowed the blood to flow into the bowl as he read through the rest of the spell. Once at the end he quickly grabbed a rag he brought with him and tied it tightly over his hand. Alastor stared down at the bowl and the swirling contents within. The lightly red tinted liquid was now fully red with the addition of his blood. He could still see chunks of the paste floating within, making his stomach roll. He was dreading the next part.

Alastor raised the bowl with both hands, bringing it in front of his face. Just do it, he thought. You can't turn back now. Don't be a coward. Do it for your mother.

A voice in the back of his head that sounded a lot like her told him that she wouldn't want this. Never this.

He ignored it.

Alastor brought the bowl to his lips and swallowed. He struggled to keep himself from gagging and forced himself to swallow it all. Bits of the paste had accumulated at the bottom of the bowl making the last gulp an even greater struggle. He dropped the bowl and slammed his uncut hand against his mouth, clenching his eyes shut, and felt the sludge travel down his throat with great effort. It felt more like he was swallowing a stone with how great of an effort it took. Once it finally went down, he bent over where he sat, gasping and gagging. He brought both hands to his stomach, attempting to put the storm inside to rest.

Don't throw up, don't throw up, don't throw up. Don't think about the blood. Don't think about the eyes. Just don't!

The underlying queasiness that he had been feeling the entire afternoon had increased tenfold after drinking the concoction. But soon enough the queasiness dissipated. Once it had he wished that it would come back because it was better than what replaced it.

White hot pain assaulted his insides, causing him to cry out. After all the times he had gotten into fights, all the broken bones and cuts and bruises, it never compared to this. He fell to his side on the damp ground, curling into a ball and grabbing desperately at his abdomen. God, it hurt. It hurt so bad. Mama. He wanted his mama.

He opened his eyes despite the pain and realized he could barely see through the wetness there. From what he could see, however, he saw that the clearing had gotten impossibly darker. It was so dark that it appeared to be night. Had he lost time? Had night actually fallen? No, he realized. He couldn't see anything beyond the clearing, but it wasn't because night had fallen. Instead, there appeared to be an unnatural wall of shadows surrounding him which was slowly creeping in.

Through the excruciating pain he attempted to get to his knees to crawl towards his boat but once he had turned himself around, he realized that the wall of shadows was there too. It circled all around him and he couldn't even see the river anymore. He was trapped. He watched as the shadows got closer and closer, almost seeming as if there were tentacles extending outwards towards him. No wait, there were tentacles clawing at the ground. He didn't know what would happen if they grabbed him, but he knew he didn't want to find out. Through his tears and cries of pain he tried to pull himself to the middle of the circle of shadows drawing ever closer, trying to stay as far from them for as long as he could.

His heart was pounding, and fear clutched at him. He was going to die there. He was going to die and never see his mother again. Please Bondye, forgive me. Forgive me and save me from this nightmare.

All at once the shadows stopped as did the pain. Alastor was breathing heavily, and his heart was still beating like a jackrabbit. He lay on his side and felt a sort of strange calm. Alastor then realized that the ever-present sounds of the bayou were silenced. The only thing he could hear were his own desperate pants.

Slowly, he pushed himself up onto one elbow and looked at his surroundings. The shadows were only a couple yards away from him on all sides, but they were no longer approaching. The thin tentacles reaching out towards him on the ground were still withering about, extending towards him, but they never connected. He pushed himself onto his knees and whipped his damp eyes with the back of his uninjured hand.

Then, a shadow began to extend upwards from one of the tentacles, growing in height and width until eventually it appeared to be the size of a human. Alastor sat enraptured by the figure, frozen to the spot in shock, awe, and trepidation. Shadows shouldn't be able to move like that. It was impossible. Once the shadow reached a significant size a face began to form with eyes and a smiling mouth reminiscent of the old witch back at the shop. Even though the shadows' eyes were simply the absence of shadow it appeared as if it was staring down at Alastor, sending shivers down his spine.

The shadow began to advance on Alastor, startling him out of his stupor. Alastor fell onto his backside and began to push himself backwards with his hands and legs. He felt something grab ahold of one of his wrists and he cried out in surprise. He looked behind him and saw one of the shadowy tendrils wrapped around his wrist. He pulled at it, but it did not budge. Instead, another tendril wrapped around his other wrist and pulled both of his wrists to the ground with great strength, preventing him from moving. Alastor turned back to look in front of him and saw the figure still approaching him. The fear had returned with vigor.

"P-p-please! I'm sorry! Please don't hurt me!" he cried out. The figure did not respond, only advanced further. "Please! I'll do anything! Anything!"

'Anything, you say?' hissed out an ominous voice like a snake that seemed to be coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. It sounded like neither a woman nor a man, and yet both overlayed over the top of each other. It was a whisper but also boomed in Alastor's mind. 'You should be careful what you promise, child. You already have summoned me here with the promise of your soul.'

Alastor was gasping and staring wide-eyed at the shadow. It loomed over him but bent down to look into Alastor's face. Two sharp claws extended from its sides, digging into the ground as if it was crawling its way towards him. Alastor leaned backwards once it got within a couple inches of his face. Alastor tried to turn his head but one of the claws grabbed his chin, making him jump, and forced his head back to face the shadow. There were no eyes and there were no pupils, but it felt like it was staring directly into Alastor's soul. He thought distantly that perhaps that was exactly what it was doing.

With great effort Alastor made himself speak. "Y-y-you're the m-mistress then?"

A menacing laugh echoed in the clearing. The shadow hissed. 'No, child. I am not our Mistress. I am one of her servants, come to do her bidding.'

The shadow released Alastor's chin, trailing one claw almost lovingly down his cheek and neck. He shivered once again but did not turn his head. "Her bidding? To collect my soul?" he asked with unease.

'Among other things. A deal must be struck,' the shadow hissed.

"What sort of deal?" he asked.

'The very same that the ritual you performed promises.' The shadow turned to look at the discarded book. 'Your soul in exchange for great power and protection that I will supply to you from the Mistress.'

Alastor gasped slightly and also looked at the book. "It worked then?" he asked. "I have the power that I need?"

'Not yet child.' The shadow sounded almost as if it was laughing at him. 'You have not given your soul over to the Mistress yet.'

Alastor scowled. "Then what was all that then? I thought that spell was to give my soul to her in exchange for the power I seek."

'No child. That was simply a ritual to summon me. I will be the one that will facilitate the exchange of power for your soul.'

Alastor swallowed thickly. "And you're the spirit the book spoke of? The shadow."

'Yessss.'

"But...you're not a Lwa? Are you?" he asked hesitantly.

A low chuckle rang out through the clearing. 'Would you like me to be?'

Alastor scowled. "That's not how that works. Either you are or you aren't?"

Another hissing chuckle. 'Such heart even in the face of a Demon.'

Alastor's eyes widened. "D-demon?"

The shadow creeped close to his face once more. 'Yes, child. Demon.' Alastor was frozen once more. Demons presenting themselves as Lwa, just as Priestess Maxine said. 'Don't look so startled, young one. You knew you were dabbling in dark magic. Did you ever truly believe you were using Voodoo?'

"Bu-but the symbols! They're Voodoo! And it talked of a spirit! I thought you were to be a Lwa!" Alastor cried out as he struggled at the tentacles still wrapped around his wrists.

'Do not try to lie to me, child. If we are to be bound together you will never be able to lie to me again.' The hissing was loud and grating, causing his ears to ring. The tentacles squeezed harder where they grabbed him, making him winch in pain. 'We will be one. We will be inseparable. Your thoughts will be mine to share. I will know you more intimately than ANYONE ever has or ever will. You will be mine.'

"No!" shouted Alastor, struggling harder. "You're supposed to be mine! I don't belong to you!"

'No, you'll belong to the Mistress, just as I belong to her. But we will be attached. I will be your shadow. And you will be my host that will allow me to move freely amongst the living. Through me, you will have unimaginable power that is graciously provided by the Mistress. You will be able to do ANYTHING.'

"Anything?" Alastor asked through gasps.

'Anything.'

Alastor wanted to seek revenge for his darling mother. She had been wronged, so grievously, by her past lover. A man who galivants around town, after being gone for years, with a wife and a two-year-old daughter. The very picture of a happy little family. They were perfect together. All pale skinned with their light-colored hair and blue eyes. Beautiful in every way. He hated it and he hated them. All of them! How dare that man choose a life with a blonde-haired beauty and spawn a child with her when he already had a woman who loved him, even now all these years later after all his wrongdoings, and a son!

Alastor wanted him dead, but he lacked the courage to do it on his own. Countless times he had lingered outside the mans house, watching and waiting for the opportune moment. Every time he got close, every time he was ready, he would hesitate. Like the coward he was. Why couldn't he do it? Was he scared of being caught? Of course he was. He couldn't bear the thought of his mother finding out what he had done. The disappointment that would be in her eyes would be devastating.

He needed help. He needed a way to ensure he would be successful without being found out. And this...Demon would ensure that.

'What is it you desire, child? What twisted depravity does your heart yearn for?'

"It's not a 'twisted depravity'," he said indignantly despite still being restrained. "It's justice."

'Justice, you say?' More laughter. 'Oh, you are a delusional one, aren't you?' Alastor opened his mouth to argue but was cut off. 'But there's nothing wrong with that. We all tell ourselves what is necessary to get us through this cursed existence. If you tell yourself that what you seek is justice, that I am a Lwa, that the magic you will be endowed with is Voodoo, then I will do whatever I can to help you with your...fantasy. Just so long as you do what is asked of you when the Mistress demands it.'

"And what will the...Mistress demand of me?" he asked with a trembling voice.

'A great many things.'

"And if I refuse? Or fail?"

The shadow growled. 'It would be wise to do as you are asked. The Mistress does not tolerate disobedience or failure.'

Death. He assumed death is what would be in store. Was it worth it to sell his soul to an unknown master? Was it worth it to become her slave in exchange for the power he sought? Was it even an option to refuse at this point?

Alastor watched the shadow that loomed above him. Its unseeing eyes, wide grin, and sharp claws were unnerving. He feared what the shadow would do if he refused to sign his soul over to this Mistress. He imagined the shadow tearing into him, wrenching him limb-from-limb, muffling his screams of pain and fear with the unnatural darkness that had descended the clearing. He doubted that anyone would hear him or find his body in the end. He thought of his poor mother, waiting for a son that would never return, unaware of the fate that had befallen him. Alastor couldn't do that to her. She deserved so much better.

The shadow must have seen the resolve on his face because it shifted and asked, 'Have you made a decision?'

Alastor nodded. "Yes. Let's make a deal."

The grin widened. 'Goooood.' The tentacles wrapped around Alastor's wrists slowly retreated, slipping back into the darkness behind him. Alastor rubbed at his wrists in discomfort and pushed himself to unsteady feet. The shadow drew close, but Alastor refused to flinch back. It extended its claw towards him and hissed, 'In exchange for your soul, I will be tied to you, providing you with a fraction of the Mistress's power to do as you see fit with it along with protection. As one of her servants you will be expected to perform duties that she will call upon you to complete. As previously stated, failure or disobedience will be met with swift punishment. Do you understand?'

"Yes."

'Do you accept these terms?'

"Yes. But-" Alastor swallowed. "Does this mean you'll be my servant? You'll do whatever I ask?" If possible, it appeared as if the shadow glared at him.

'Think of us as...partners. Partners help each other out. I will do what you ask if I deem it appropriate. What is it you wish me to do? What is it you desire?'

"I want," Alastor hesitated. He took a deep breath and continued. "I want you to help me kill my father," he said with a hard tone he hoped sounded confident.

'Now that, child, is something I'd be more than happy to help you with.' Its claw pushed forward, hovering near Alastor's own hand. 'You only need to agree to the deal.'

Alastor stared at the claw. This was it, there was no turning back if he took it. If he didn't then he would likely die but his soul would still be his. What would that mean for him though? What use was a soul at the end of the day? He would still be alive if he made this deal, just so long as he did the Mistress's bidding. And, he thought, his father would die.

Without any further hesitation Alastor extended his hand and took the shadows claw. Suddenly a blinding neon green light burst from their hands and a strong wind whipped around them. Alastor raised his unclasped hand to shield his eyes. As suddenly as the onslaught had started, it stopped. Alastor slowly lowered the hand from his eyes, peaking out at his surroundings. The unnatural darkness that had creeped in on the clearing had disappeared. The shadow was also no longer standing in front of him. Alastor scrunched up his eyebrows in confusion, looking around but finding nothing. Had he imagined it all? No, surely not.

Then his own shadow began to move, independent of him and rose up beside him. Alastor startled as the shadow laughed. No longer did it look like a vague outline of a human form, but it resembled his own form. The holes for its eyes and gaping grin were still present and abnormal, even more so since it looked like his own outline. Alastor looked down and noticed his normal shadow was not present. This...creature had taken it over completely.

'Just as I said, we are one now. Inseparable. I will be with you forever.'

Forever, he wondered. Until the day he died?

'Even after that. We will never apart,' it whispered, slithering up behind him and placing its claws delicately on each of his shoulders.

Alastor gave a startled look over his shoulder. "Wait! Can you read my thoughts?"

The shadow bent down over his head and stared into Alastor's eyes. 'I told you. You will never be able to lie to me again.'

He thought about that and tried to listen for something more but heard nothing else. The shadow smiled wider, knowing what he was trying to do. "But I can't hear your thoughts," said Alastor.

'No. You can't.'

Alastor huffed and thought that wasn't fair.

'No one said anything about fair. Smile, child. You have been bestowed a great honor.' The shadow turned him around, facing the boat. 'Now tell me all about this father of yours. I do believe it's time to pay him a little visit.'

For the first time that day, Alastor smiled.

___________________

It was times like this that Alastor wished he had the ability to frown.

He was anxiously pacing back and forth in his room, waiting for the inevitable meeting that was sure to take place. Sweat was beading at his temples, and he was clutching at his chest at the strain the pacing was taking on him. His injury ached and he could feel pus and blood leaking from the wound, staining his already red shirt.

Earlier, Charlie's cries of excitement and relief alerted the rest of the Hotel to their newest arrival. Everyone stood shocked at the Queen standing in the lobby area, clutching onto her distraught daughter. With the newest development he couldn't avoid being brought downstairs into the open to be introduced enthusiastically to Charlie's mother. Lilith’s' flowery words of how much of a pleasure it was to finally meet the Radio Demon grated on his nerves. He had to bite his tongue from lashing out at the woman in front of everyone. Alastor had never been happy to see the King of Hell before until he arrived at the Hotel after being informed by Charlie that his estranged wife had made an appearance, drawing Lillith's attention away from Alastor. He wanted to laugh at the strain he could see in her face at being in Lucifer's presence. If he had to be uncomfortable then it was only fair she should too.

In the commotion Alastor was able to extract himself from the lobby and made his way back to his room and waited.

'You are only making your injury worse with your movements. Sit down,' hissed the shadow.

"Why is she here?" growled out Alastor, ignoring the order.

‘I do not know. I have not been made privy to why she is here.'

Alastor whirled around and growled at the shadow, "Lies!" Pain lanced through his chest and abdomen, causing him to bend over as he dug his nails into his shirt.

'Calm yourself. You are only hurting yourself more by lashing out.' The shadow swooped to Alastor's side. He reluctantly allowed it to lead him to a chair where he sat down with a grunt. 'I am not lying to you. I do not know why she has left Heaven, only that there were unforeseen circumstances that brought her back.'

Alastor scoffed. "Don't try and tell me that the Mistress is concerned for my wellbeing."

'I did not say your injury was the "unforeseen circumstance". There are other factors at play here that I'm sure we will be informed about soon enough.'

"Not soon enough. I have no doubt that Charlie will be drawing out her reunion with the Queen as long as possible," huffed Alastor.

'I'm surprised that you are so eager to meet with her instead of delaying the inevitable. Fear has coursed through you ever since she walked through those doors.'

Alastor bristled at the suggestion he was afraid of Lilith. "I am NOT afraid. I simply do not like the woman, all things considered. I would have thought you would hate her as well. The last time we saw her we BOTH were tortured mercilessly by her hands."

'And whose fault is that?' hissed the shadow as it bent down to glare at him. Alastor looked away, scowling. 'You're the reason we were thrown into that pit. Do not forget that, child.'

Alastor grumbled to himself. He was not likely to forget with the blasted shadow reminding him of it constantly. And he hated when it called him 'child'. He hadn't been one for over a century.

'And yet you still continue to act like one, to this day,' the shadow hissed.

Alastor's ear twitched in annoyance at that but he did not respond. Silence stretched between the two of them as Alastor sat and stared into the empty fireplace. He shivered. Ever since sustaining the injury on his chest he had intermittently felt cold despite the heat radiating from the leaking wound. Wordlessly, the shadow began to build a fire.

Once the fire began to crackle, the smallest bit of comfort seeped into his muscles and bones. Some of the tension he didn't know he was carrying in his shoulders relaxed and dissipated. Alastor did not thank his shadow, knowing that it could feel his relief. The fire was soothing and without him realizing it he fell asleep.

_______________________

Alastor startled awake.

The fire was now dead with only a few embers lingering at the bottom of the fireplace. It was quiet, eerily so. It bore an unnaturalness that reminded him of the Mistresses power. Her shadows had a way of sucking all sound out of the surrounding area and blocking any from escaping her barriers. Alastor thought of the void and shivered.

He looked to the side and saw that his room was bathed in shadows. The darkness was suffocating, and Alastor felt his heart rate increase. Footsteps sounded behind him and began to draw closer, the telltale sounds of high heels clacking against the hardwood floor. Alastor remained seated and did not turn around, attempting to compose himself and slow his racing heart. It was dark, yes, but this wasn’t the pit, he reminded himself.

“It’s so dark in here,” came a melodic voice just behind his chair. The extinguished fire suddenly burst to life before him, roaring in its intensity, heat assaulting his face. “That’s better.” The footsteps retreated to the other armchair before the fireplace. Alastor did not turn his head from where he gazed into the fire as Lillith sat down gracefully beside him.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed movement. Alastor turned his head slightly and saw his shadow creeping along the wall, staring at the two. It turned its own head to the side and Alastor saw another shadow, this one reminiscent of Lillith. It too had gaping hollow eyes and a gaping smiling mouth. It slunk in front of Alastor, stopping to stare at him and he stared back, unflinching. It then made its way to the Queen and settled itself to drape over the back of her chair like a cat.

Alastor finally met Lillith’s eyes for the first time since she had first spotted him hiding in the shadows on the balcony upon her arrival. She wore an unreadable expression, poised and elegant looking where she sat. She seemed entirely unbothered, but he knew better. After spending so many years in the void with her he knew plenty of her tells. Her back was ramrod straight and her pose was entirely unmoving. She looked like she could be carved from stone. It was as if she thought that by not moving, she could prevent any sort of nervous movement or tells but all it really did was make her look unnatural. But he supposed that worked well enough in her favor for most of her life, presenting herself as an unnatural and controlled being. It made her intimidating. But Alastor refused to feel intimidated because he knew what lay beneath.

“You look awful,” she said as she looked him up and down with a judgmental look and single upticked eyebrow.

“Lillith,” he said with a wide grin, cocking his head to an unnatural angle with a snap. “Still a delight I see. Doesn’t seem like your charm got you very far in Heaven, however. Kicked out already, hmmm?”

Lillith narrowed her eyes and then turned her expression to Alastor’s shadow that had drawn closer to his side. “You knew?” she asked.

‘No,’ hissed his shadow. ‘The Mistress relayed very little information about your return.’

Alastor laughed cruelly. “Ahh but you all but confirmed the reason why you’re here and not in Heaven. You failed the Mistress.”

“I did not fail!” yelled Lillith, breaking her cool façade. Alastor felt unbelievably pleased at this. It always felt wonderful watching her mask slip. “I would still be in Heaven right now if your little thrall hadn’t killed Adam. I ought to kill her for the inconvenience.”

Alastor growled and he could feel his eyes change to radio dials and his antlers lengthened. “You will do no such thing,” he said through thick radio static.

Lillith glared. “I will if it is the Mistress’s wish.”

Alastor narrowed his eyes. “Is it?” he said slowly through distortion.

Lillith sat glaring at him for a couple of seconds before leaning back in her chair and looking away and into the fire. “No,” she bit out through clenched teeth.

“Then you will not touch her,” he said as his form went back to normal, sighing with relief slightly due the strain his Demonic form put on his injury.

Lillith barked out a laugh. “As if you could stop me.” She turned back to look at him, smirking and propping her head up with a closed fist. “You’re weak. The Mistress told me of your skirmish with Adam. Seems my ex-husband was good for something besides just getting me into Heaven.”

Alastor turned away and back to the fire. His hand that was clutching at the arm of his chair dug into the upholstery. “I am not weak.”

Lillith laughed again. “Oh but you are! You wouldn’t be able to stop anyone from killing your little thrall, let alone me. You never were a match for me, even when you were at your full strength.”

“I seem to recall inflicting my fair share of pain on you in the void,” he said with a sneer.

“All at the Mistress’s command and with her help. In a fight, you wouldn’t stand a chance against me.”

“Is that what is going to happen?” asked Alastor in annoyance. “A fight? Somehow, I seriously doubt the Mistress has allowed you to come all this way after your failure just to allow you to fight me.” Alastor turned to her and sneered. “You know, now that I think about it, Adam was killed quite some time ago. I’d imagine Heaven would have kicked you out immediately after that. Tell me, where have you been the past month or so? Did the Mistress decide you should do another stint in the void?”

“Why you little-!” Lillith sprung to her feet, launching herself at Alastor, grabbing ahold of his shirt and lifting him from his seat slightly. He winched in pain at the movement, grabbing at his chest. However, just as quickly as she grabbed him, she released him, whimpering in pain herself. She was breathing heavily and holding onto her stomach. Her shadow hissed at her and grabbed onto her shoulders, steering her back to her chair.

‘What did I say??’ hissed her shadow. ‘You must not strain yourself, your Majesty.’

“Ha! Knew it!” laughed Alastor through his own pain. “You’re over there calling me weak, meanwhile you’re still recovering from your own injuries!”

“Yes well at least mine are healing and they came from the Mistress. You went up against Adam of all people and lost,” she said.

“The irksome man is more formidable than he first appears. Or at least he was,” he said. “He’s a brand-new Demon now.”

“What?” said Lillith in surprise. “He’s a…Demon? How?”

Alastor’s smile grew. “Seems the Mistress hasn’t kept you up to date on everything while you were away. Apparently, your daughter’s dream of redeeming Sinners isn’t so far-fetched as originally believed. Sinners who die a second time have the possibility of being redeemed. And as a result, Angel’s who die a second time have a possibility of being damned.”

Lillith looked shocked. She sat back in her seat and gave a small smile. “Well done, Charlie,” she whispered but still loud enough for Alastor’s large ears to hear.

‘No. Not well done,’ said Alastor’s shadow, drawing nearer to the gathering. ‘The Mistress has no desire to have any other Sinners to be redeemed. The Abomination-’

His shadow was cut off by Lillith’s shadow flying across the room and pinning Alastor’s shadow to the ground with a shriek. Lillith’s hair began flipping around as if there was a great wind and her eyes turned completely black. Her teeth became sharp, and her nails elongated into sharp claws. “You know how I feel about that word! You will NOT refer to my daughter in such a manner!!”

His shadow bristled, hissing and throwing Lillith’s off of it with a slash of its claws through hers. Lillith’s shrunk back but growled at Alastor’s, glaring. ‘The Mistress calls her an Abomination. I will not be cowed by you, just another servant of hers the same as I,’ hissed Alastor’s shadow.

‘You will respect our Queen,’ hissed Lillith’s shadow.

‘She is no Queen of mine. She has no authority here, only the Mistress. Her power and command is absolute,’ hissed Alastor’s shadow. It then turned to Lillith, seething. ‘Your daughter has caused more than enough trouble. The Mistress is not pleased.’

Lillith’s form went back to normal, and she stared wide-eyed at Alastor’s shadow. “I thought the Mistress sent you two here to help her with her Hotel. Is the redemption of souls not what the Mistress wants?”

‘The redemption of souls was believed to be impossible. And even if it hadn’t been, what use would the Mistress have in having souls redeemed?’

“Then what does she want with my daughter?” asked Lillith with a note of desperation.

Alastor looked at his shadow curiously. He too would very much like to know what the Mistress’s interest in Charlie was. He’d been given so very little direction other than to protect her and get close to her. Make her trust him. His shadow shot him a look, knowing Alastor’s train of thought, but did not comment. You know more than you’re letting on, don’t you? Or at least you have theories, he thought.

‘That is not for us to know. Only the Mistress,’ was the only reply they received. Frustratingly recycled over and over and parroted back at Alastor time and again. At least the Queen got to suffer his shadows glib response.

“If you dare hurt her-” began Lillith but was cut off by Alastor’s shadow growing in size and causing the room to darken further.

‘You’ll do what?’ it hissed. ‘Disobey the Mistress? You know the consequences of those actions.’ Lillith opened her mouth to argue but was stopped once again. ‘Peace, you Majesty,’ said the shadow in a far calmer and unusually soothing voice. The use of the honorific was unusual too. His shadow NEVER used it to refer to Lillith. It must truly be trying to manipulate Lillith to its fullest. ‘We have been given no commands to bring harm to her, only protect.’

Lillith glared. ‘I don’t believe you,’ she said. Clearly it had laid it on a little too thick.

'We have been here for months and not once has harm befallen her by either of our hands. Instead this hotel and its inhabitants are under our protection,' hissed the shadow. 'If the Mistress wanted harm to come to your daughter we would have done so already.'

Lillith shook her head. "You know as well as I do that the Mistresses intentions are not so clear. You may not have harmed her now but that does not mean she will not be hurt by your hands."

Alastor's shadow slithered towards the Queen, leaning towards her face. Lillith leaned back to get away from it and her own shadow hissed in warning. 'Then I suggest you do not continue to fail the Mistress and do as she commands,' hissed Alastor's shadow.

Lillith stared wide-eyed at it for several seconds, none of the inhabitants in the room moving. Finally, Lillith's mask returned and she glared at the shadow with a casual and seemingly unbotthered expresion. She was then smirked. "Quite right. I suppose the two of you are curious as to why the Mistress has sent me here." Lillith turned to look at Alastor. "I'm sure your own shadow has an inkling as to why I'm here but has also not deemed it necessary to share that with you."

Alastor's ear twitched and he narrowed his eyes but refused to give her the satisfaction of verbally confirming just how much less cooperative his shadow was than hers. "It has alluded to the possible reason," he ground out through clenched teeth. " It said that you can give me what I need that has otherwise been allusive."

Lillith smiled and her shadow hissed with a snicker, 'Your antidote.'

Alastor's ears flattened against his head. "You have it then?" he said, willing his raising heart to quiet. He attempted to keep the rising hope from consuming him. This was Hell, afterall, and they all had the same cruel Mistress that did not give anything without a price.

"Yes," said Lillith. She reached into her dress revealing a small vile. Inside there was a yellow liquid that appeared to give off a faint glow. In the suffocating darkness and shadows it drew Alastor's eyes like a beacon offering salvation. Alastor found himself drawn to it, unconciously drawing closer. He didn't realize he was drawing closer until he extended his arm slowly towards it and then Lillith abruptly pulled her arm back and out of his reach. He stopped and her cruel smile grew. "Ah ah ah! You know there's a price. You don't get this without giving something in return."

Alastor leaned back, settling himself back in his chair. He wondered how long the Mistress had the antidote he needed in her clutches. Had she had it the entire time since he had been injured and was only just now presenting it to him as a means of making him desperate, ready to give anything in return? He wouldn't put it past her. Or at the very least he wouldn't doubt that she would make him think that was the case, taking advantage of his distrustful mind. He scowled and growled out, "Well get on with it. What is it that she wants?"

"It's something simple really. You've given it to her enough times over the years that one more time shouldn't be a problem," said Lillith casually. She manevoured herself in her chair, looking relaxed. "Another Overlord. You must kill him. You've already killed so many others easily enough, one more shouldn't be a problem."

Alastor swallowed, feeling unease. At the back of his mind he could feel his shadow whisper, 'What did I tell you. THIS is the price of your failure and hesitation.'

"Who?" Alastor asked, already knowing the answer.

Lillith smiled, showing her teeth. Despite not being sharp and animalistic like his own, her grin was every bit as predatory. "The Television Demon. Vox."

His heart skipped a beat and his pulse quickened. Without knowing it he was shaking his head. "I cannot." Lillith scowled and her shadow growled. He pressed on quickly. "He is an Overlord and we are weakened by the poison. We wouldn't stand a chance."

"Well it seems you are in quite the predicament. On one hand there is a slow and excrusiating death via poison and on the other there is likely a painful and torturous death at the hands of your former friend. Choices, choices," she said with cheer.

'Any death by Vox would not be permanent,' said his shadow, cutting through a rising panic in Alastor. Yes, he thought. It couldn't be permanent.

Lillith laughed. "Yes that is if he has enough energy and life left in him to regenerate. With the sorry state the two of you are in I do wonder if any death at the hands of another Sinner would be permanent or not." She gave an exagerated shrug. "I suppose it's worth a shot at least, right?" She laughed again and her shadow joined with her.

Anxiety laced through Alastor. Would a death by another Sinners truly result in his final demise? The poison coursing through his veins made his wound ache. Somehow he knew that any death now would be everlasting because the poison would prevent any regeneration. Which begged the question that if in his weakened state would any death he would inflict on another, if he even could do so, would it be final?

A small sense of ease entered his mind, drawing his attention towards his shadow that gazed at him. 'The Mistresses powers still course through me and as such through you. Any death by our hands will still be indefinite,' it reasurred silently in his mind.

For some reason this did not instill the comfort he was hoping for. "And what of giving the antidote to me now and then once I am well I will carry out the Mistresses wish afterwards?"

"Do you truly wish to go back to the void that much?" asked Lillith. "From my understanding she has desired your friends death for some time and yet you have not given it to her. Was that not the reason you went to the void the last time?"

"He is not my friend," growled Alastor reflexively.

"Then you should have no reservations left about ending his life."

'Yes,' hissed his shadow in his mind. 'None.' Alastor looked at it for a long moment, both staring at each other. Alastor was the first to turn away, gazing into the fire. The Mistress had been pressing for him to end Vox's life for some time now. Her ire was like nothing he had ever experienced over seven years ago when he had been drug into the pit with his shadow that shrieked like a terrified animal. He promised himself that he would not hesitate again if he was given the chance to end Vox's life. He had even swore to his shadow that he would kill him personally. So that meant there was no issue outside of the current phsyical limitations he had...right?

Alastor gave a single solemn nod. "It will be done."

Lillith gave a melodious chuckle. "Oh I cannot wait to watch you fail." Her shadow laughed as well.

Alastor's own shadow stared at him unflinchingly. It hissed in his mind, 'You better not fail, child.'

_______________________

The night air was warm on his skin, the slight wind offering little relief in the summer heat. Sweat trickled down his neck from where he sat, concealed by the bushes as he watched the bar in front of him. Alastor was stalking his prey, waiting for it to emerge. The minutes ticked on by into hours, making his muscles cramp from where he crouched.

At last a man emerged from the building, stumbling down the street on unsteady feet. Of course the man was a drunkard, Alastor thought bitterly. Could he expect anything else?

Once the man got to a respectable distance Alastor got to his feet and followed. He watched as the man made his way slowly through the streets, unaware of being stalked. All the better for Alastor if the man was oblivious.

'Do not become overly confident,' hissed the shadow, startling Alastor. He was still not used to the creature always being present, listening to his thoughts and watching him. It was equal parts unnerving and reasuring that the deed he was about to commit he would not be performing alone. It gave him a sort of confidence, bolstered by the untested power that he had been promised. 'There is no moon and the streets are empty but that does not mean that you cannot be spotted.'

"I thought that your powers to manipulate shadows would offer more concealment?" questioned Alastor out loud.

'Quiet,' hissed the shadow. 'I can hear your thoughts, remember? You needn't speak aloud, especially while stalking your prey. Silence is key,' it repremanded. 'But to answer your question it will. But that does not mean that you should become reckless and not excersice caution. There is only so much my shadows can do without drawing attention. Out here in the open streets someone is bound to notice the darkness that I can provide, proporting Demons and witchcraft being afoot.'

Alastor thought that that was exactly what was occuring. 'Yes well there is no reason to make the common folk aware of such things,' hissed the shadow. 'Best to leave no trace when excercising descretion.'

Alastor continued to stalk his prey, feeling a slight thrill at doing so. So often his role had been reversed. But now the prey had become a predator and it was exhilarating.

'Empowering, isn't it?'

Yes, thought Alastor. It truly was. And to have said prey not even know what was coming for him was even better. If he was aware of being stalked would he suspect Alastor of anything nefarious? Would he suspect his own flesh and blood to intend harm upon him?

Over the past couple of years of the disgusting man returning to his home neighborhood Alastor had seen him from afar multiple times, and not just from his own mediocre stalking of lying in wait outside the man's home. Frequently Alastor would see him walking down the street, with and without his family, minding his own business. Somehow, both Alastor and the man's eyes always found each other, like a magnet. While Alastor maintained a hard glare towards the other man as long as possible, the man always looked away in shock and trepidation, shuffling away as quickly as possible, abandoning whatever business he had at the time.

While at first the man's wife never seemed to notice him he found her eyes would gravitate towards him too, even when she was not accompanied by her husband. She looked inquisitive, however, if not slightly weary. Whether her husband had told her the truth of his identity was unclear, but what was clear was that she had her suspicions. How could she not when every time she looked at him she was looking into the face of her husband.

New York, he discovered, is where the two met and where the man had run off to. Trying to get as far away from the mistakes of his past as possible. How foolish of him to think that those mistakes had disappeared after all these years, or lessened, when the reality was his biggest mistake had only grown bigger and more resentful with each passing year.

'No longer will you be his mistake,' whispered the shadow. 'You shall be his retribution.'

Alastor liked the sound of that.

The man stumbled down the street, turning the corner and making his way towards the more residential area of that part of town. Still he was unaware of being followed. What a pathetic excuse for a man.

A park was approaching with a thicket of trees and bushes that would conceal most acts. It was a spot perfect for many of Alastor's peers who found themselves lost in the throws of passion, necking against trees, away from the watchful eyes of their parents. Frivolous acts but the foliage would offer the perfect cover for a far more lucrative affair on Alastor's part. As usual, the man cut through the park as he made his way home.

'Good,' came the whispered hiss. 'You already know the benefits of being aware of your prey's every move and habits. Very good.'

Despite the unease he felt at the shadow knowing every thought of his he couldn't help but feel pride swell within him at the praise. And then his cheeks flushed at knowing it could feel that too. Alastor wasn't sure but he thought he heard laughter echo in his mind at that.

As they got further into the park, away from the streets, Alastor grew anxious. This was it. This was the best time. It was now or never. He looked around in nervousness. 'Do not fret, child. There is no one else here in the park.'

"Are you sure? How can you know that?" he said out loud. He tried to be quiet but in his apprehension his voice carried further than he intended, nevermind the fact he continued to forget he didn't need to communicate out loud. The man who was several paces ahead stopped and looked over his shoulder.

"Hey," he slurred. "Hey you there. You followin' me buddy?"

Alastor felt frozen with his attention on him. He'd fucked up!

The man took a couple unsteady steps towards Alastor. "I'm talkin' to you. Are you following me?" He continued to walk towards Alastor who took a couple half steps back unsure of what to do and if he should abandon his goal or not.

The man stopped a couple of feet away, eyes widening once he got close enough to see Alastor's face in the dim starlight. "You," he whispered. Alastor thickly swallowed but said nothing. Several moments passed in silence, Alastor's shadow not even making itself known. Alastor desperately wished for it to and yet it remained frustratingly silent.

"What-what do you want?" The man said in a louder voice, some of his shock being replaced with weak conviction. "Do you want something from me? Is that it? Money? Food?" His face softened with furrowed eyebrows and sad eyes. "Are...are you two not getting enough food?"

What was this, Alastor thought with a start. Sympathy? Guilt? No, that didn't make any sense.

The man slumped his shoulders and looked away in what looked like shame but surely couldn't be. He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, rifling around and pulling out several bills, far more than Alastor had ever seen his mother have at one time. He extended his arm out to Alastor and said, "Here. It's not much but it's something."

Alastor stared down at the money but did not move. The man seemed to take his lack of movement as a way to demand more for he went back to his wallet, dropping some coins into his palm as well. "You can have this too. It's all I have on me." He stumbled towards Alastor, grabbing his hand, causing Alastor to flinch, and shoving the money into his hand. Alastor was so startled by the movement that he dropped the money without meaning to. The man scowled and swayed where he stood, looking down at the money before looking up into Alastor's eyes. It was the first time the man had held his gaze for such a long time, unwavering, while Alastor was the one who felt like he couldn't look back. "Don't you want it? Isn't that what you want?"

He opened his mouth to respond but no reply came.

"I see you watchin' me all the time," said the man, scrunching his face up in a frown. "Followin' me too." His breaths were starting to come quickly and he gasped on his next words. "You're like a ghost. Always haunting me, serving as a constant reminder." He moved quickly and grabbed onto Alastor's shoulders, startling the young man. "You want something from me. I know it!" He started to shake Alastor who did not otherwise move. "Tell me what you want from me! Please! Tell me what I need to do!"

"Stop!" cried Alastor, shoving the man away. The man stumbled back, tripping over his shaky legs and falling onto his backside. He gazed up at Alastor with alarm who stared back with wide eyes and a heaving chest. "You have NO right to touch me. Just as you had no right to touch my mother either," he said with a voice that quacked. Despite the lack of confidence in his voice the ending remark made the man recoil.

The man looked down and what sounded like a whimper escaped his lips. "I know," he said with a small pathetic cry. "I know. I'm sorry. I know-" he broke off at the end, dissolving into a quiet repetition of unintelligible slurred words.

Suddenly Alastor felt rage. He flew forward, going to his knees and grabbing hold of the man's shoulders just like he had done to Alastor, snapping the man's attention to him. "You know? You know?!? You know you did wrong and yet you did it anyways?! You run away and then dare to inflict further harm on her by forcing her to look at your face everyday for the past seventeen years! Was it not enough to hurt the most beautiful and saintlike woman alive? You had to go and saddle her with your own filthy spawn!"

The man was looking at Alastor with a look of startled fear and despair. Tears were streaming down his face and pitiful sounds were escaping his lips. "And then you return, acting as if there were no consequences for your actions! You thought you would be able to come back here and flaunt a wife and child like it is something you deserved! Why?! Why should you deserve that when you abandoned your chance of that nearly two decades ago? You could have had that because despite it all she loves you! She loves a pathetic wretch like you!"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" blubbered the man. "I loved her but I just couldn't!"

"Liar! You didn't love her!" cried Alastor.

"I did! I loved her more than anything!" wept the man. "She was my greatest love! Even now with my wife. She was everything to me!"

"And yet you threw her away, discarding her like trash! You tore out her heart and stomped on it, treating her like some whore who didn't deserve the time of day! But she deserved so much more than you!"

"I know!" he said through gasps.

"She deserved to be happy!"

"I know!"

"She deserves-!" Alastor paused, seeing the shadow looming in the distance, gaping smile twisting further upwards. "-retribution," he said with a whisper.

The man paused too at the sudden change in volume and tone, squinting up at Alastor through his tears-filled eyes. Alastor looked back at him with an unnatural calm, grabbing a rock from the ground beside him, and bringing it down in one fell swoop upon the man's temple.

The man cried out in pain, falling to his side on the gravel walkway. Alastor raised his arm back and brought the rock down onto his head over and over, screaming with rage and sadness and shame and longing. All the things he had bottled up over the years when he thought about the allusive father he never knew. He was unaware of everything else in that moment besides the man who was his father, crumbled before him, reduced to a mewling animal. He did not notice that the surrounding area had been filled with darkness, shielding him from the outside world. He did not notice his shadow watching with pleased eyes. He did not notice that his own hot tears had begun to stream down his face.

After several swings Alastor stopped, gasping and dropping the bloody rock to the ground. He fell back onto his backside, staring at the heap before him. The only sounds that filled the air were his own loud pants and the wheezing breathing coming from his father.

He was laying there, unmoving besides the labored rise and fall of his chest and the occasional twitch of his fingers. He sounded like a dying animal. Alastor reached out one shaking hand and held it a couple inches above his mouth and nose, feeling the slow brush of air escaping as he clung to life. He wasn't dead.

'Not yet,' came the reply.

The shadow appeared behind him, bringing a barely there hand onto his shoulder. 'You must finish the job.' Two dark tendrils wrapped around one of his wrists and the other around the bloody rock, depositing it into his hand. 'Go on. Kill him.'

Alastor looked at the rock and stared. There was so much blood on it but that wasn't all. Once he really looked at it he noticed bits of hair and globs of coagulated blood, skin, or something else, he did not know. Brain? Had he gone that far? Alastor's eyes quickly swiveled to the mess of a face. He did not think he had managed to go that far but he could not tell through all the blood. God, there was so much blood.

With a gasp Alator dropped the rock again, crawling backwards as realization struck.

He'd attacked him. He'd attacked his own father. A monster of a man but his father none-the-less. His mother loved this man, even now, despite everything. How could she love him? He didn't understand, but she did, he knew it. And he had brutally attacked the man she loved. His own flesh and blood. What would she think?

His breathing began to come in hitched gasps, quickly and with not enough time for him to actually take in any air. What if his mother found out? What if she thought him a monster? He looked at his hands and saw so much blood clinging to them.

A dark figure appeared before him, startling him at the suddenness. 'She will not know if you finish it,' came the growling hiss. 'If you leave him alive he will talk. You will be discovered and your mother will know what you are.'

Alastor was shaking his head back and forth. No. No.

'You know what you are.' Alastor continued to shake his head. 'You do, child. I know you know.'

Alastor closed his eyes and placed his hands over his ears in an attempt to stop himself from listening. It was useless because it was all in his mind. A chilly claw grabbed his chin forcefully making him open his eyes. The hand turned him towards the man before him. The shadow whispered, 'You are your father's son.'

"No!!" he shouted, pushing himself back and away, stumbling to his feet and running back down the path he had come from. He was met with a shadowy wall, preventing him from escaping. "Let me out! Let me out!" He slammed his fist against the wall, attempting to flee. "I don't want to do this anymore! Please! Let me out!"

Somehow, through his cries and pounding fist he heard a gurgle from behind him. Alastor stopped, panting, and slowly turned around. His father was still lying where he left him but now his face was turned towards Alastor. His eyes were swollen shut, unseeing, but still facing him nonetheless. "Pppppllll-" More gurgling noises. "Ppp-sssss." Alastor took tentative steps forward, silently weeping. Finally once before the only father he ever knew, standing over him, he heard it. "Please," came the broken utterance. Only 'please'.

Alastor's tortured face began to crumble. Tears fell to the gravel and his lip trembled. A small sob tore from his throat and he bent forward, clutching his arms around himself.

Bondye, please. I'm so sorry. Forgive me and save me. I don't want to do this.

As he stood there crying, a gentle hand came down on his head, carding fingers through his hair. It was comforting and reminded him of his mother. For a second Alastor thought his prayer had been answered. But then he felt a cold wispy arm wrap around him in the imitation of a hug. 'Hush now, child. There is no need for that. I am here. You did so good for your first time. You needn't do more. I will take care of the rest.'

Alastor's cries increased at that. He opened his eyes slightly and saw dark tendrils inching towards his father, slithering around his limbs. 'We are bound together, child. And I shall always protect you. Even from yourself.' The tendrils began to wrap around his fathers neck, squeezing and making the man twitch and struggle with his limited energy. 'I will make sure you remain safe from those that will wish you harm, both from your world and mine.' His father's mouth opened wide as his body tried to suck down air, creating an opening for one of the tentacles to enter and choke him from the inside as well. 'Never again will he harm you or your mother.' The sounds of his father choking on the shadows echoed through the dark clearing and ringed in Alastor's ears and made him shake. 'Shhhh, child. It'll be over soon. I've got you.'

It wasn't long after that before the struggling subsided along with the noises. Alastor stared wide-eyed at his father, searching for any sort of movement but knew he would find none. Slowly the tendrils retreated, disappearing into his shadow behind him.

Dead. His father was dead.

'Yessss,' came the hiss. 'Your soul for his death; as promised.' Alastor gulped. The shadow moved from behind him, collecting the dropped money and shoving it into Alastor's pants pocket. 'It will be for the best if it appears to have been a robbery gone wrong. Take this with you.' Alastor numbly accepted the money without complaint, uncaring of taking or leaving it.

'In the future we can plan better and think of things to do with the body instead of leaving it where it lay.'

That drew Alastor from his stupor. "In the future?" he said slowly.

'Yes,' it hissed, drawing close again, placing its claws on each of his cheeks, almost tenderly. 'This was only the first of many. The Mistress will ask for more sacrifices.'

Alastor felt stricken. Again? He had to do this again??

'Do not worry, child. I will be with you every step of the way.' It rubbed a thumb over his cheek. 'I will teach you how to kill.'

Notes:

In 1907 Alastor is 17 years old.

So yeah, Alastor sold his soul LONG before he came to Hell. In my opinion I honestly think this has a possibility to be canon. They talk about how Alastor showed up one day in Hell with great power that was unheard of in other newly dead Sinners. I feel like that implies that he has powers granted to him by someone/something else. And his green magic just seems so different then his color palate. I don't think it's own natural powers.

Also, yeah Lillith does NOT own Alastor's soul in this story. I know that's the running theory which honestly I felt the same for a while. I honestly still kind of do but at the same time I feel like it's such an obvious choice that at this point it would be kind of boring if Lillith owned his soul. I would prefer that their coincidental 7 year absence that occurred at the same time be related but not due to Lillith owning Alastor's soul. But that's just me!

As always, stay tuned until next chapter!

Chapter 13: A Dance and a Dance of Another Sort

Summary:

It's 1924 and then 1926. Xavier and Olivia have come to find work in the speakeasy called the Ruby Red, ran by a caring widow and her stoic yet deadly righthand man. In the present, Vox attempts to help Velvette with her powers but they are interrupted by a letter from the royal family.

Notes:

Sorry updates are coming so slow. At this rate I'm putting out a chapter once a month. Unfortunately I'm just very busy and very tired a lot of the time so I don't have much motivation to write. Hopefully you all enjoy this chapter, however!

TW: some internalized homophobia,(idk if this really is a warning that needs to be made but just in case) consensual sex scene

1924

Xavier kneeled down on the dusty floor, looking at the messy twist of wires. No wonder the lights were having issues, it was a disaster back here. That’s what Miss Ruby got for employing an idiot like Frank who didn’t know the difference between a screwdriver and a monkey wrench.

He got to work, sorting through the wires to find where each one went. Some of the wiring appeared to be fraying, shocking him when he accidentally touched it. He hissed in pain and stuck his stinging fingers in his mouth to sooth the burn. Eventually he found the exposed wiring he was looking for and got to work.

He lost himself in his work, appreciating the task of finding a problem, figuring out a solution, and meticulously fixing it. It brought him a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment that so much of his other work didn’t. If he could only show Miss Ruby how valuable he was inside Ruby Red versus out of it. The thought of whizzing bullets flying past his head, wind beating against his face through a shattered windshield, the smell of blood, sent a shiver down his spine. His finger slipped on the screwdriver in his hand, pinching his skin, and making him curse. Even with the minor knicks and burns this job was far less dangerous than the other one, however.

Thankfully he had only had to assist with a couple of jobs for Miss Ruby, lending an extra hand because Thomas had got himself shot in the gut and had to be on bed rest. She had insisted that he would only be doing pick-ups and the driving, leaving any of the so-called heavy lifting to Izzy and Sebastian. Despite that, Miss Ruby had insisted he should carry a gun, just in case. Izzy’s frustration at him for not using said gun on their last ill-fated run still made him shrink away from the older man. This was a far better way for him to prove his worth.

“What are you doing?” Xavier looked over his shoulder to see Frank walking towards him, shooting him an angry look. “I told you to stay away from that! You’ll only mess it up!”

“I can’t possibly make it wwwworse,” he said, turning back to his work.

“Yes you certainly can! You could cut us of electricity entirely and then what would we do?” Frank pulled the young man to his feet and grabbed the flashlight from where Xavier had it squeezed between his cheek and shoulder. Frank pointed it towards the wires to see what damage had been done.

“I’m not gggggoing to mess it up that badly,” Xavier said sheepishly.

“And how do you know that? You don’t know the first thing about any of this!” shouted Frank, kneeling down and grumbling.

“Actually I do,” Xavier said quietly but almost defiantly. “I’mmmm good at this s-s-sort of stuff.”

“Ha! You?? You expect me to think someone like you who can’t even talk right can fix this?” Frank laughed at him, shaking his head in disbelief.

Xavier scowled. So often others equated his stutter to him being slow. He was anything but, however, and to have someone like Frank of all people believe him to be stupid grated on his nerves. Frank was approaching his seventies. What did HE know about electricity and machines?

Xavier watched as Frank began to undue all of his hard work. “Stop that! You’re mmmmessing it all up!” Xavier grabbed the old man and tried to push him away.

Frank growled and got to his feet, jabbing a finger in his chest. “Don’t you touch me boy! I know what I’m doing, and you don’t!”

“No, you don’t!” Xavier shouted back.

Frank’s face turned red and scrunched up in rage. He grabbed the front of Xavier’s shirt and yelled, “What did you say to me?? You think you can do better? Well you can’t, boy! You don’t know the first thing about nothing! You’re lucky Miss Ruby decided to let you work here, taking pity on your worthless simple self! It’s a good thing your sister is pulling not just her weight but yours, otherwise you’d be out of here!”

Xavier felt frozen before the older man, held close by his tight grip. Having Frank this close, shouting as he was, made him think of his father. Anger began to rise up within him at that. He hadn’t come all this way, leaving home, to exchange one abusive drunk for another. He clenched his fist in anger, wishing to strike the other man just as he had with his father before he fled. But before he could decide if he would actually do it someone cried out behind them.

“What’s going on?” Xavier and Frank both turned to the newcomer. It was Izzy walking up the stairs that led to the stage and bar out front. All of the anger in Xavier died at seeing him, replaced with shame.

“This nitwit thinks he can fix the lights to the stage.” Frank gave a cruel laugh, expecting Izzy to agree with him.

“Well can he?” asked Izzy casually.

“Of course not!” cried Frank.

“Why don’t you let him try?” Xavier whipped his head towards Izzy in shock. Izzy simply looked back at him with a blank face and a single raised eyebrow.

Frank spluttered. “Because he’ll burn the whole damn stage down!”

Izzy looked towards the mess of wires. A single spark shot from one of the exposed wires, as if on cue. Izzy hummed. “I do believe that mess is more your doing than his. If the stage and Ruby Red is in any danger of burning down, it’ll be because of your handling of things.”

“Excuse me!” shouted Frank. Izzy cut him off before he could continue. “Let Xavier take a stab at it. If the stage burns down then you’ll have proven us right. If not, then he’ll be bringing us more money in because the damn lights from the stage won’t go off in the middle of any of the performances.”

Frank looked back and forth between the two, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. Eventually, he regained his composure and scowled at Izzy. “Fine! It’ll be on your head when everything goes to Hell in a hand basket because you allowed a dunderhead to play with things outside of his understanding!” He then stormed off, stomping like a petulant child. Izzy watched him with his same blank expression, but Xavier could see a slight upturn to the corners of his mouth. Was that a smile? Xavier had never seen Izzy smile before. He wondered what a real smile would look like on his face. He bet that it would soften a lot of the harder edges of the gangster and would look beautiful.

Once Izzy looked back at Xavier, the young man looked away in embarrassment. He dearly hoped that none of his thoughts were evident on his face. Olivia often said that he was easy to read but he suspected that was just because she knew him so well. He doubted Izzy did. Xavier so rarely spoke to the man, avoiding him even before Miss Ruby made him go on runs with him. Xavier always felt so flustered around him, his stutter worsening anytime he was close by. He knew the older man was an intimidating presence but how Xavier reacted was just ridiculous. It frustrated him to no end.

“W-w-w-why ddddid you ddddo thhhat?” he questioned without meeting the gangsters’ eyes.

“Because Frank’s a bitter old drunk who takes his anger over his wife leaving him out on anyone and everyone and I’d love nothing more than to see him put in his place,” said Izzy. When Xavier didn’t look up, he continued. “Plus, the stage lights need fixing. And clearly, he isn’t going to be the one to do it.”

Xavier shrugged. “Dddddoesn’t m-m-mean I-I-I-I cannnn.”

“No,” said Izzy bluntly. Xavier flinched. “But I believe you can.”

Xavier looked up in surprise. “B-b-but why? After the llllast run, I messsssed up spectacularly! Why w-w-would you think I’d do annnnything differently?”

Izzy gave Xavier a hard look, staring into his eyes. He had a knack for looking at people and making them feel as if he could stare right into their soul. It made people uncomfortable and made him a skilled interrogator as a result. Despite wanting to, Xavier felt like he couldn’t look away.

“You know,” he started in a contemplative tone. “When Miss Ruby came to me and suggested I take you out to replace Thomas temporarily I thought she had gone mad.” Xavier felt shame. Of course Izzy would find him lacking. “She insisted though, saying that you seemed restless and that you weren’t meant for a life of being a doorman or server. She thought you were meant for bigger things. I agreed.” Xavier felt stunned. Izzy shrugged and continued. “I just didn’t think a life of a gangster was exactly it. Turns out I was right.” And the shame had returned, and he looked away. “Don’t look like that. I don’t mean it as an insult. This life isn’t meant for everyone. It’s a hard one and I wouldn’t recommend it to most. Certainly not you.”

Xavier didn’t know what that meant and he was confused by the odd tone Izzy’s voice had turned to at the end. It sounded almost…fond. Xavier gave a tentative look up and saw a soft expression on Izzy’s face. There wasn’t any significant change in his usually stoic look, but it wasn’t as hard as usual. However, the look quickly went away and Izzy’s face was returned to normal.

“You’re smart. No matter what Frank or anyone else says, I can tell. It’s not like your sister will ever shut up about how intelligent you are; that your shyness and sense of self-worth just get in the way,” said Izzy. Xavier couldn’t help but give a weak smile at the mention of his sister and her never-ending faith in him. Izzy nodded his head towards the wires that Xavier had been working on previously. “Go on. Show everyone that your sisters’ faith isn’t misplaced. Nor mine or Miss Ruby’s. I know you’d hate to let those two lovely ladies down.”

Xavier nodded enthusiastically and got to work. He definitely didn’t want to fail them. Nor Izzy for that matter. While the thought of letting Olivia and Miss Ruby down filled him with regret, the thought of failing Izzy filled him with a different sort of nervousness that he couldn’t explain. It made his stomach turn. He put the feeling aside, however, and focused on the task before him.

That night, customers poured into Ruby Red like usual, men and women ready for booze, entertainment, and discretion. Xavier flew around the room like usual, serving drinks while Olivia took to the stage, captivating the audience with her beautiful singing voice. Xavier stamped down his irritation at some of the less than respectful patrons who ogled her in her flapper dress, knowing that those were the ones that tended to tip well. Many would slip an odd bill to her during her breaks or even while she was still on stage. Olivia always laughed at him when he would complain about those men. She would say that he would get just as many women, if not more, who would fall down at his feet if he would just get on stage and sing with her. It reminded him of Victor’s delusional dreams of grandeur for the three of them. Sure, Olivia was meant for the stage, but that didn’t mean he was. His only audience would ever be his sister in the solitude of their apartment.

All through the night, the lights of the stage didn’t flicker or go out once. Xavier couldn’t contain his giddiness at it, all the while Frank lingered off to the side, carrying a fire extinguisher everywhere he went. He spotted Izzy approach the old man, attempting to take it from him, but was unsuccessful. Frank stormed off again and Izzy visibly huffed in annoyance, unaware of being watched. When he caught Xavier’s eye he gave a shrug. Xavier could have swore there was another minute smile on his face but couldn’t be sure from standing across the crowded room.

At the end of the night, as dawn began to creep over the horizon, and the last patrons had gone home, Miss Ruby approached him with a wide smile. “There he is! My little handyman! Izzy told me what you did for me and our stage. Well done, my dear.”

Xavier preened under the praise, unable to keep his own wide grin from his face. Miss Ruby was of a similar age to his mother and having her approval always seemed to fill a gaping hole in him that his mother failed to fill. He saw Izzy standing off to the side, for sure giving Xavier a small smile that time, and it also filled Xavier with pride. This time, however, he felt his stomach flip. While Izzy was about fifteen years younger than his father, Xavier told himself that the approval from Izzy was similar to the approval he had craved from his father. The flipping in his stomach made him unsure of this.

“Th-thank you, Miss Ruby. I’m glad I c-c-could help.”

A squeal and quick footsteps were heard behind him, the only warning he had before his sister threw herself onto his back, wrapping her arms around his neck. He stumbled forwards slightly, laughing at Olivia when she gave him a loud kiss on his cheek. “Oh Xavier! I knew you could fix the lights! I told you!”

“Well we’ll just have to listen to you next time, darling. It would keep us from losing out on customers when we don’t deliver the same quality that they are used to from us,” said Miss Ruby. “You’ll have to help out Frank with any repairs around this place from now on.”

Olivia giggled. “Oh I’m sure Frank will just loooove that!”

“Oh don’t you worry about that old grump. I’ll take care of him,” Miss Ruby said with a knowing smile. While most were unable to avoid his constant ire, Miss Ruby was the exception. He’d known the woman since she was a child, friends with her father. He was like a second father to her ever since her own had passed away.

Without further comment, Miss Ruby walked away, indicating towards Izzy for him to follow. The gangster tipped his head towards Xavier and Olivia before following his employer towards her office. Business, Xavier told himself, was what they had to tend to. Izzy was her top gunman and surely, she had another job for him. They weren’t going off together to her office for anything else. He’d heard the rumors that everyone else talked about, that Miss Ruby had found comfort in the arms of her late husband’s right-hand man. And even if she had, what business was it of Xavier’s who she found comfort in. Xavier watched Izzy’s retreating back and told his stomach to stop rolling.

Olivia jostled him with a knowing look but did not comment. Instead she pulled on his arm, dragging him behind her. “Come on! I need to go change and then we are going out for breakfast to celebrate the fact Miss Ruby is promoting you and hopefully now she won’t send you out on any of those jobs with Izzy and the boys.” Xavier obediently followed her, allowing himself to be drug wherever she went, like usual.

They went backstage and Xavier gave sheepish smiles to those they passed by who patted him on the back and thanked him for a job well done. A couple of the other girls that Olivia routinely performed with giggled and batted their eyelashes at him, causing him to blush at their attention. Olivia laughed at his expense but also expertly took the attention away from him and pushed him along towards one of the rooms the performers get ready in. Thankfully no one else was there and once they got inside, she closed the door, allowing Xavier to breathe a sigh of relief.

“You’re so eager to get Miss Ruby’s approval but when that approval comes with everyone else’s attention you clam right up,” Olivia said. She walked towards the vanity mirror, taking off her jewelry and washing away some of the gaudier parts of her makeup.

Xavier plopped himself onto the couch in the corner of the room and sighed, putting one of his arms over his eyes. “I never know what to do with it. People so rarely pay attention to me when y-y-you’re in the room. And they pay even less attention to me when you aren’t there.”

“Fools. The lot of them.” Xavier snorted at her comment. “Yeah, sure,” he said.

“I’m being serious,” said Olivia. Xavier lifted his arm from his face to look at her out of the corner of his eye. “You should be up on that stage with me, dancing and singing. Just like Fred and Adele Astaire on Broadway!” She said this with a dramatic flourish, throwing her arm out to the heavens.

“We work in a speakeasy, Olivia. Not on Broadway,” he deadpanned.

Olivia shrugged. “Well who’s to say we won’t be one day. I’ve had many a customer say that I have the voice and looks for a professional stage, I’ll have you know.” She said this with an upturned nose, giving an air of over-the-top superiority that made him laugh. She disappeared behind a dressing screen to change.

“Yeah I’m sure they do!” He laughed. “I’m sure they’d also tell you you look like a goddess and are the most beautiful woman they’ve ever met and they would do just anything for you just so long as you go back to some seedy motel so they can get between your legs before kicking you to the curb.”

“Xavier!” cried Olivia who peaked around the dressing screen and threw a shawl at him. “Don’t be crass!”

He caught the material and snorted. “Oh so when you say stuff like that to me it’s alright but when I do it to you it’s not ok?”

“I am a lady, good sir!” she joked from behind the screen. “And I will not stand for such comments on my virtue.”

“Ha! Virtue!” He laughed.

His sister walked out from behind the dressing screen, dressed in her normal skirt and shirt, scowling at him. She walked back to the vanity mirror and got to work fixing her hair. “I think you’re just jealous of the attention I get.”

“Didn’t we just establish I DON’T like the attention?”

“Well it’s just the attention from the wrong sort of people. I think that if the right person gave you the attention the girls always do then you’d fall down at your knees willingly. Say someone like…” She made eye contact with him in the mirror and gave a smirk. “Izzy?”

His face turned bright red. “Olivia!”

“I know he’s a lot older than you, but he IS rather handsome. All the other girls go on and on about his big strong hands and chiseled jaw.” Xavier could feel the heat radiating off his face. Just because he had noticed those features of his did NOT mean anything.

“H-h-how many tttttimes do I have to tell you! I-I-I-I am nnnnnot a pansy!” he cried out in frustration. Olivia paused at the outburst and the return of his stutter. She turned around in her seat and frowned. He crossed his arms and looked away, refusing to look at her pitying expression. She stood up and walked towards him, placing a gentle hand on his cheek to turn him towards her again. Once she started stroking his cheek with her thumb he finally looked at her. She looked unfathomably sad.

“Oh, you sweet boy. You know I don’t mean anything bad by it. You know that I don’t care and love you no matter what,” she said softly. Yes, he knew that. And while it warmed his heart, the constant needling of this topic grated on his nerves. Even if he was like that, even if he was depraved, what sort of life would that be? Hiding in plain sight, constantly worried about being caught. And by always hiding, what chance would he have of finding someone like him? And even if he did, to trust someone in that fashion, trust them not to expose him, it was too much.

No, Xavier thought, he wasn’t like that at all.

Xavier placed his hand over the one on his cheek. “I knoooow Olivia. But th-that’s not me.”

She gave a sad smile and nodded. “Ok. Ok. I believe you.” He really didn’t think she did. But she made no further comment on the matter and turned back to her mirror to finish up while he sat back on the couch, attempting to distract himself by messing with the loose upholstery.

“You know,” Olivia said after several moments. “If you REALLY want to ensure that Miss Ruby doesn’t send you back out with Izzy you should try and show her your piano skills sometime.”

Xavier rolled his eyes but smiled, thankful for the distraction. He leaned back and laid his head on the back of the couch, rolling his head to the side to look at Olivia. “I’m sure Rex would just love that. He and F-f-frank can band together to create an unfortunate accident for me taking their jobs.”

She scoffed. “Oh please, Rex is a talentless git who can’t keep rhythm to save his life. Besides, I’m sure he’s on his way out anyways with the amount of Miss Ruby’s product he sneaks in-between sets. Besides, playing the piano on stage is an easy way for you to get used to it. It’s not like anyone would be looking at you anyways. All eyes will be on me,” she said with a laugh.

“Yeah, and knowing you you’d use that as an excuse to drag me up from the piano seat to dance with you on stage.”

“You’re a good dancer!” she said.

“Yeah, at home,” he said with a grumble.

“Oh, come on!” she whined. “You’re great at the Charleston!” She turned around having finished getting ready and gave him a pointed look.

Xavier laughed, knowing where she was going with this. The two had been obsessed ever since they went and saw their first Broadway musical a couple months back, scrounging up enough money between the two of them for tickets. Watching the sibling duo of Fred and Adele Astaire on stage for Lady, Be Good! had renewed their dreams of performing together. Which was all fine and good in the confines of their apartment but actually putting it into practice was another thing.

Olivia began to hum the beginning notes of the song “I’d Rather Charleston” from the musical, slowly walking towards him as she danced a little jig. Xavier rolled his eyes at her antics as she began to sing the part of Dick instead of Susie.

“I’ve seen for days that you’ve got the ways that must be checked. In you I never can detect the slightest signs of intellect.” She tapped at his temple and he swatted at her hand laughing. “You’re mad on dances; think of the chances you neglect.” She gave a twirl and pointed at him, raising her eyebrows in a pointed way. “You never seem inclined, to use your mind, and it’s quite plain to see that I’m the brains of the family!” She pointed at herself, and Xavier scoffed. Her rendition was far more playful then when Fred sang as Dick.

“As if,” he said with a laugh.

“Take a lesson from me,” she sang and outstretched her hand to him, waiting for him to continue. He waited several seconds, drawing it out as long as possible to make her think he would leave her hanging but he eventually relented and sang the part of Susie, “I’d rather Charleston.” Olivia would deny it if he told her, but she absolutely squealed at him playing along.

“Charleston?” she cried. “Think of what you might be.”

Xavier hoped to his feet. “I’d rather Charleston.”

“Charleston? I’m disappointed in you and your ways.”

Xavier began to dance with dramatic flair and sang, “I’m double-jointed. There’s no sensation like syncopation.”

“Will you let me know why?”

“I’d rather Charleston!” cried Xavier, fully getting into the act, making Olivia laugh. The two continued singing the rest of the song, not missing a word, and danced together in expert synchronization. They had danced together in their living room enough times, earning loud banging from their downstairs neighbor, telling them to knock it off. They would only laugh and take off their shoes so as to soften the dancing which wasn’t always successful.

Xavier held onto Olivia's hand, the two looking at each other with their opposite hands outstretched, smiling as Xavier sang, "I'd rather Charleston. Charleston. Charleston with you!"

Together, they gave a bow, caught up in their performance, unaware of the world around them. It wasn't until claps rung out around them that they realized that they had gathered an audience. The two startled upright, gazing at the crowd of their coworkers; musicians and showgirls and servers alike. All of them were crowded around the narrow doorway, peaking over the top of each others heads and some crouched down to look through the legs of others. All were clapping and some were whistling at the performance.

"Bravo! Bravo!"

"That was incredible!"

"Encore!"

Xavier's face turned red and he gazed at everyone before him with shocked alarm. He attempted to pull away but Olivia held on tightly, giving him a beseeching look.

"Well now, that was quite the performance!" Said a familiar woman's voice from the back of the crowd. The audience parted, revealing Miss Ruby. She walked forward and looked at the siblings with a thoughtful look. "You're sister always did speak highly of you. She said how talented and smart you were. Seems we've all been taking her words for granted. You sure are full of surprises because that was quite the performance!"

Xavier was lost for words, unable to speak in the face of so much attention. "I-I-I-"

"None of that now," she said. "Clearly you are more than capable of speaking perfectly. More than perfectly, as we just all saw. That voice, my my, it was beautiful!" The rest of the crowd gave muttered agreeances. Miss Ruby walked forwards, stopping right before the siblings. She looked between the two, giving a thoughtful look. "You know, I have a friend who works on Broadway. I wonder what he would think of that voice?"

Xavier's eyes grew wide. He looked at Olivia, panicked, before looking back at Miss Ruby, shaking his head back and forth. "Now, now," she said. "I won't introduce you any time soon. Clearly you need some help with your obvious stage fright. But I'm sure we can get you to where you should be soon enough." She grabbed ahold of his hand that wasn't desperately holding onto his sisters, and squeezed before turning around and leaving. Xavier watched her turn the corner and noticed Izzy standing there in the back. The older man met his eyes for a long moment, his expression unreadable, before giving a small smile and a wink, following behind his employer.

The room was flooded with the rest of their coworkers, excitedly chatting about the newest development. Olivia grabbed ahold of her brother's shoulders, turning him to face her and away from everyone else. "Xavier! You did it! This is what I've been talking about!"

"B-b-b-butttt I c-c-c-can't! I cccan't dooooo this!" He cried.

"Of course you can! You are more than capable," she said, drawing him close and away from the loud chatter. "I believe in you, Xavier. Show them what you got."

__________________

"Goddamit!!"

Electricity shot everywhere, striking the walls and raining rubble down onto the ground. Vox sat in a chair at the far corner of the room, giving an unimpressed looking at the scene before him while he sipped his coffee. Velvette cursed as she shook debris from her hair.

"Why isn't it working?!" She shouted, kicking a particularly large piece of drywall across the floor.

"You need to have patience," Vox said, casually. "Rome wasn't built in a day you know."

"Shut up!" she cried, pointing at him with narrowed eyes. "This is harder than it looks!"

Vox raised a single unimpressed eyebrow. "Oh? Is it? I had no idea!" He said with a sarcastic tone of voice.

"Oh don't give me that, Vox. You are literally made of electricity. You make this look easy!" She said with a sniff, folding her arms together.

"Yeah, I know I make it look easy. That's the point. Doesn't mean it actually is," he drawled. "You know how long it took me to get the hang of teleporting through the grid system? Decades. You haven't even been down here for a full ten years. It takes time."

"Yes but you figured it out on your own. I've got you to help me," she said with a huff. "That means it should be easier than this."

Vox got up from his seat and approached the younger Sinner. "Velvette. No one else has done this besides me. The fact you are able to produce sparks of electricity as you do, while not having any sort of mechanical parts as I do, is a feat of itself. You should be proud." He placed his hand on her shoulder in a show of support.

"I'm not just the Demon of Fashion, but the Demon of the Internet. Media is what I'm all about! I should able to do this!" Velvette stomped her foot in frustration, electricity spiderwebbing out before her and running across the floor and wall, cracks following behind it.

Vox continued to hold onto her, absorbing any residual minor electricity trickling off of her. It wasn't anywhere near the amount that he gave off on the daily. Sometimes just passively sitting down he would give off more electricity. But he was also half machine, mixing metal with flesh. She wasn't even fully flesh and blood herself. She was half cloth and plastic, resembling a doll. Not the best at conducting electricity.

Velvette stomped off to the same corner Vox came from, plopping down in the chair next to his abandoned one. She promptly took out her phone and began scrolling, scowling. Vox sighed and walked towards her and took a seat. He looked at her but she was actively ignoring him, annoyed by herself or him or a combination of both. He wished he could give her better guidance but it wasn't like he was the best teacher or mentor.

She was too much like him; her own worst critic. She was brilliant but when she didn't immediately get the hang of something she started spiraling. Just like Vox's smiling and charismatic personality, her brash and loud persona was just a mask for her own insecurities. If she wouldn't put so much pressure on herself he was sure she would get the hang of teleporting just fine.

"Did I ever tell you that when I was alive I had a stutter?" Velvette didn't look at him when he spoke but she paused in her scrolling, clearly intrigued by his admission. "It's true. It was a huge problem when I was a kid and teenager. The more nervous or emotional I got the worse it was. About the only person back then that I was able to talk freely around was my sister. Practically no one took me seriously because of it. I still struggle with it even to this day."

Velvette turned to him in realization. "Your glitches."

He nodded as he looked down at his hands. "Yeah. My glitches." He gave a humorless laugh. "I had kicked the habit mostly through the second half of my life but it seemed to return once I got here but it was masked as my glitches. Or maybe because I arrived is this amalgamation of man and machine it returned. I don't know. Either way the glitches show up all the same as when I was alive."

He leaned back and turned to her. "The more I glitch, or stuttered, the more flustered I'd get and then the worse the stutter would get. It was a vicious cycle that really impacted my self esteem. If I hadn't got help then I doubt I would have ever got to where I was at the end of my life or where I am now." Sometime he wondered if that was a good thing. He wondered where his life would have went if he never got help in those early years.

"How did you shake the habit?" Velvette asked.

"Mostly my sister. She helped a lot. If she didn't believe in me and my worth I doubt I ever would have gotten anywhere let alone left our small farming town in the middle of Mississippi. But it wasn't just her. We met some people when we moved to New York City. Some people who had no right believing in or taking a chance on us. But they did." He gave a small fond smile. "It was this owner of some popular Speakeasy during the Prohibition. And her righthand man. This gangster."

Velvette barked out a laugh. "You're shittin me!"

"No I'm not! Some real intimidating types! Even the owner of the Speakeasy. She was this real sweet woman the age of my mother. Seemed all sweet and innocent but when I tell you she had a ruthless streak!" He whistled. "They were great though. Put a lot of time and effort into getting me sure of my own abilities. As cliché as it may sound they made me realize that I just needed to be confident in my own abilities which went a long way towards helping with my stutter. Which in turn helped make a name for myself."

Velvette snorted. "Yeah I bet. Doubt an actor with a stutter was going to go far."

He hummed. "Helped that in those early days my sister was with me every step of the way. She was - she was my rock. Always pushing me. Whenever we were on stage together and I would get overwhelmed I'd just focus on her. Even after when we stopped performing together I would just think of her and she would calm my nerves. 'Whenever your tongue starts twisting and the world starts closing in, just think of me' she'd say." He looked at Velvette. "So I did. And it worked. There's a reason why I'm still one of the most notable and decorated actors to this day."

She looked at him for several moments, mulling over what he said. She eventually turned towards the wrecked wall opposite them along with the destroyed cameras, computers, and phones. Each one of them a failure. "So what, you're telling me to just think of you when I start fucking up?"

Vox snorted. "Not what I was going for exactly but if it works for you go for it." Velvette groaned. Vox continued. "What I was TRYING to say was that you're more than capable all on your own. The progress you've made in the limited amount of time you've been in Hell is incredible. We haven't seen it since, well, Alastor honestly." At the mention of the Radio Demon Velvette huffed and rolled her eyes, annoyed by the comparison. He couldn't exactly blame her and yet the comparison was a good one. Very few rose to power as quickly as them. "Progress takes time, however. You'll get there. Just be patient and I know you'll be able to travel through electronics just like me. There's a reason why I picked you up on those streets all those years ago. I felt that connection with you. A similar spark. You can do it."

While the spark he felt wasn't the only reason he picked her up off the street, he was being honest enough. The spark he felt was something he had never felt before. He had only ever felt something similar once before and that was during his earliest days in Hell, on that damn rooftop with that gun in his hand and flames raging before him. Vox sometimes wondered if Alastor and Velvette would feel the same spark between the two of them or if he could only feel it with them both, being the bridge between their medians.

"And what if I can't?" Rarely did Vox hear Velvette sound anything but her normally confident self. IF she wasn't feeling like that she always covered it with yelling and snide comments. To hear her vulnerable, in a strange way, made him feel privileged. It meant she trusted him.

Vox shrugged. "Then you find other ways to build your power. It's not like you're lacking in other talents. You're the best damn fashion designer I know. And your chemistry skills are unmatched."

"Ha! You got that right! Beauty AND brains, I'm tellin you!" She cried in cheer, clearly having had her spirits lifted.

He smiled. "Yeah, and one Hell of an ego to boot."

"Hey! Talk about the pot calling the kettle black!" She cried in indignation but there was no real bite behind it.

Vox chuckled. Her frustration at her failed attempts was worn away. It heartened him to see her mood improved and having been the one to accomplish it. Especially since she had unknowingly done the same for him since his recent bout of panic a couple days prior after being found out by Adam. He hadn't had a panic attack in years and it always drained him when he did. But after his conversation with the Princess, and then coming home to Velvette, he felt better. The two reminded him of Olivia in so many ways, albeit in very different ways, but either way they were comforting presences. Vox wondered what Velvette would think if he dared to compare her to the Princess, however distantly.

At the thought of Adam, some of his anxieties returned. He had yet to get the Demon any new souls, procrastinating in doing so. He hoped that with the second meeting with Heaven the next day it would be a moot point, but he doubted it. He was a skilled business man but even his negotiation skills had its limits. He needed to find him new souls.

Vox's thoughts were interrupted by his assistant entering the room cautiously, peaking his head through the door in fear of being struck by electricity. "It's fine Papermint, you can come in. You won't be fried."

"Thank you, sir," he said while adjusting his glasses and stepping inside. He was a nervous little thing that Valentino and Velvette both didn't quite understand why he had hired. While Velvette was more understanding, aware that the aquatic Sinner was rather skilled at his job, Valentino found the Sinner to be a waste of space. What Vox didn't tell them was that his assistant reminded him vaguely of himself when he was younger. "I have urgent news for you and the other Vee's."

That perked up Velvette's interest as well. Urgent usually didn't mean anything good. "Oh?" questioned Vox. "What is it?"

"Uhm." His assistant hesitated, pulling a letter from his binder and extending it towards Vox with a worried look. "Perhaps you should see for yourself."

Vox grabbed the letter, looking at the envelope. Velvette leaned over to get a better look at it as well. It had the Royal seal on it, emblazoned in gold ink. Curious. Was it from Charlie? If so, why hadn't she just texted him. It's not like they weren't essentially in business together at this point on rather friendly terms. The King then? Again, why hadn't Charlie just messaged him? It's not like the King was particularly adept at any politics or embroiled in much of any sort of business besides whatever his daughter was up to. If he needed anything surely he would have just told Charlie.

"That from the King? He asking for another meeting that he won't actually attend?" asked Velvette.

"Doubtful. It's not like he or Charlie need to trick me into a meeting at this point. All Charlie has to do is text me," he said.

Velvette scoffed, returning to her phone, losing interest already. "Yeah. Because you've become the Princess's bitch for some reason now."

Vox rolled his eyes. "I'm not her bitch. We're just working together to deal with the whole Heaven situation."

Under her breath, but still more than loud enough Velvette said, "More like the Radio Demon situation."

"No!" said Vox. "More like the Adam situation at this point. You want him gone too, don't you?"

"Yeah and yet the prick is still here."

"Well hopefully he won't be for much longer after the next meeting with Heaven tomorrow."

Velvette snorted. "Yeah I won't hold my breath." Vox silently agreed but made no comment. Instead he cut open the envelope with one of his claws, taking the letter out. As he read, his eyes grew wider and wider. What the Hell? This can't be right. After seven and a half years?

"No. Way," he said in disbelief.

"What?" asked Velvette, returning her attention to him. "What is it?"

Vox handed the letter over for her to read herself. Her eyes widened too as she read. "What the fuck!" she cried. "The Queen is back?!"

"I guess so," he said.

"Why? Why now? She's been gone for, fuck, pretty much as long as Alastor was! The fuck is up with that?!"

That was a good point. Seven years. Well seven and a half for Lillith. How strange that the two of them had been missing with no word as to where they went off to at the same time. And then Alastor shows up at the Princess's hotel.

Vox shrugged. "How should I know. It's not like I've ever spoken to the woman."

"And the bitch is calling for a meeting with all the Overlords too? Who the fuck does she think she is, calling us to a meeting?!" shouted Velvette in annoyance.

"Well, the Queen of Hell, clearly," said Vox, earning him a glare. "But you're right. This is rather...unorthodox. Never has the King or Queen ever called for a meeting with all the acting Overlords before. At least not while I've been around or to my knowledge from before my time as an Overlord either. They typically stay out of Overlord skirmishes and politics."

"Then why the Hell now?"

"I don't know. You know as much as I do," Vox said.

Velvette shook her head in frustration. "This ain't good Vox. This ain't good one bit. I know you feel it too. There's a lot of weird shit going on lately that doesn't feel right. It's like the whole damn world, Hell, whatever!, is going mad!"

She was right. So much had happened in such a short amount of time. Typically any sort of significant change occurred slowly in Hell. Eternity was a long time and as such there was very few that looked to change the status quo in favor of caution and just trying to survive each torturous day. The Vee's were so divisive to the other Overlords not just because of their union and boisterous personalities but because of their advocacy for change. While Vox has always championed for change and pushing forward towards the future, recent events had made him uneasy too.

Alastor's return. The Princess's hotel. Heaven's early failed extermination that. Heaven's increased involvement in Hell's proceedings. Adam's damnation and Sir Pentious redemption. Lillith's return. It was a lot. And Vox couldn't help but feel all of it was connected.

Hell felt like it was on the precipice of something big, he just wasn't sure if it was good for them or not.

"Yeah. It's..." he sighed. "A lot. A lot has been going on. And who the fuck knows what it all means for us."

Velvette groaned. "Great. Just great. Because it's always one thing after another."

"You can say that again."

After several seconds of silence Velevette turned to Vox. "So," she said. Vox raised an eyebrow in question, waiting for her to continue. "We going to this meeting in a couple of weeks that she's summoning us to?"

"I don't see how we can't," he said.

"And why the Hell not?? It's not like we haven't declined Carmine's summons before!"

"Yeah and Carmine isn't the Queen of all of Hell! We can't just skip out on a meeting Lillith is calling us to!"

"And why not?" asked Velvette with her hands on her hips. "Says who she isn't going to kill all of us as soon as we arrive."

"She's not going to do that," Vox said in exasperation.

"How do you know? I hear she's a real ruthless bitch, which slay Queen, but yeah that can't mean anything good for us, obviously!"

"I'll talk to Charlie before the meeting with Heaven tomorrow if it makes you feel any better. Get a gauge on what to expect," he said. He was planning on talking to her regardless of how Velvette felt about the situation. This was big news and he was sure the Princess would be bursting at the seams with overly emotional feelings about the matter.

"Ugh fine. You go talk to the little Princess while I plan our escape route for when we have to split."

"We're not going to have to flee the meeting, Vel. We'll be fine!" said Vox with his CEO smile. At this point, it so rarely worked on Velvette.

"Mhmm. You keep telling yourself that, love. I ain't holding my breath," she drawled.

Vox wished that he didn't agree.

________________________

1926

Music swelled through the loud crowd, some watching the performance before them with cheers and whistles, while others conversed amongst themselves, laughing loudly due to drink and merriment. The room was filled to the brim with patrons, jostling against each other due to the limited space available. While the establishment had almost always been well off, in the past year business was booming. And it was due in no small part to the performers up on stage.

Brother and sister sang and danced together, twirling around each other and weaving around the band. They had a knack for drawing in the audience, not just captivating them, but making them feel a part of the act themselves. Many people came specifically to catch the eye of either sibling, a wicked smile from the dam and a charming wink from the gentleman. Old and young alike swooned at the duo with their matching good looks and hypnotic voices.

So few knew the inner turmoil that plagued the younger of the two each time before stepping on stage. Stage fright, the other performers called it. They said with time it would go away but every night prior to stepping on stage Xavier would be overwhelmed by fear and apprehension of being in front of so many people with all eyes on him. Some nights were worse than others and Olivia would have to hold his hand and instruct him to breath, talking him through his worries and banishing his anxieties. Other nights his worries were lesser, and Xavier would go so far as to say he was excited for the night ahead. In the end, once on stage and with his focus on his sister and no one else, he could fool himself into believing he was home dancing with Olivia, and he would enjoy their performance.

Miss Ruby had been pushing for a solo performance by Xavier, but he had yet to accomplish it outside of rehearsals. Even then it was a struggle to get through without tripping over his words. Instead, he left the solo performances to Olivia who shined in the limelight unlike him. She of course disagreed and thought he was suited for it just as much as she was.

Xavier smiled at Olivia as she sang and danced beside him, gazing out at the audience with the most natural expression on her face. He could only ever match that expression when he was looking at her. The bustling and generally darker atmosphere of the Ruby Red made it hard for him to ignore the audience. How he longed for a brighter stage, one in front of a proper audience, making it hard for him to see everyone out in front of him, watching.

Olivia turned to him, signaling it was his turn to continue with the song. He sang the next notes expertly, keeping his focus on his sister or just above the heads of the audience. If he did not look directly at them it helped immensely. At the back of the room, Xavier noticed a silent observer. He both bolstered and made Xavier nervous over the scrutiny. Xavier misstepped but caught himself, moving along in his dance without anyone the wiser. Well, except for Olivia that is. When Xavier turned to her, he saw her quick shift in gaze over his shoulder and towards Izzy. Her lips upturned slightly but thankfully she could not comment. The show must go on!

As their duet came to a close, they bowed to the spectators who clapped loudly and cheered for their routine. A group of particularly loud young men in the front row began leaning towards the stage, reaching towards Olivia. Xavier walked around the stage, making a show of waving to the crowd, putting himself in-between his sister and the entitled young men, blocking their view. Olivia gave a small chuckle from beside him. “My hero,” she muttered under her breath. He rolled his eyes. The two made their exit as one of the other girls took stage in front of the microphone.

Most ignored them backstage; performers and other employees busy with their own work. It was the middle of the night and the hour of their busiest time. The siblings made their way to the back where a plethora of outfits were housed.

“Where’s my purple dress? It has to be here somewhere,” said Olivia, sifting through racks.

“Here you go,” Xavier responded with the dress in hand, handing it to Olivia. Rarely were his changes in outfit as grand, usually just a change of shirt or tie to match his sister’s grander look. She took the dress with a thanks and took off behind a dressing screen. Xavier made his way further into the back where the men’s clothes were hidden and searched for his matching purple button up shirt.

As he went he pulled loose his tie and began to unbutton his shirt, discarding his jacket on a chair. Once shirtless, he began riffling through the rack of shirts, scrunching up his eyebrows in confusion at not finding the appropriate shirt. He could have sworn he put it back on this rack the night prior after his performance but he could not find it. He made his way to a different rack, looking through the mix of outfits, some of which the women’s had been mixed in with.

“Looking for this?” came a voice from behind him. Xavier whipped around and saw Izzy standing there with his purple shirt. He flushed at finding himself in front of the older man without a shirt on.

“Y-yes. Thank you.” Xavier stepped forward to grab the shirt but Izzy instead took it off the hanger and unbuttoned it.

Izzy indicated towards Xavier with his chin. “Turn around.”

Xavier gulped and flushed further at the order. Without comment, Xavier turned around and extended his arms back. Izzy pushed the shirt onto his back and his arms through the sleeves. He tapped Xavier’s shoulder to indicate to him to turn back around. Once facing Izzy, the older man began to button up his shirt. Xavier cursed his light complexion for giving away his embarrassment so easily as the blush travelled down his neck and towards his chest. Even in the darkness of the furthest corner of the backstage surely Izzy noticed the redness at the close proximity. Thankfully he did not mention it.

“You tripped over your own feet up there,” said Izzy quietly.

Xavier swallowed. “You n-noticed that did you?”

“I’ve seen you do that number so many times, of course I noticed.”

Xavier shrugged. “These things h-happen every once in a w-while.”

Izzy hummed. “Noticed you tripped when your eyes caught mine.”

“D-d-did I?” Xavier’s voice was a higher pitch then normal, making him clear his throat.

Izzy smirked as he finished buttoning up Xavier’s shirt. “Mmm. You did. You’d think that after all this time I wouldn’t continue to make you so nervous.”

A panicky laugh startled from Xavier’s throat. “Nervous? W-who said anything about being n-n-nervous?”

Izzy buttoned Xavier’s shirt sleeves and gave a soft laugh. “You did when you tripped.” Once done he ran his hands down Xavier’s chest and arms, straightening out the wrinkles. All the movement did was make Xavier’s heart flutter and his face to heat up impossibly more. Izzy finally looked at Xavier’s face and smirked. “And when you’re face turns red like that. One could even say it’s…Ruby Red?”

At the terrible joke Xavier barked out an almost hysterical laugh. “Y-you’re ridiculous,” he laughed.

“Mmm. Only around you,” said Izzy with a soft smile. His hands that had been rubbing out Xavier’s shirt had settled on his shoulders. He looked like he wanted to say more but his brow furrowed slightly before he stepped back, his hands falling down to his sides. “Despite the little slip up the performance was fantastic. It pleased Miss Ruby immensely…along with her friend.” At the end, he sounded almost sad, but Xavier didn’t understand why.

“Friend?”

Izzy nodded and looked away, adjusting his jacket. Xavier caught the movement, knowing that it was a common thing the older man did when on edge. He’d of course refute any such claim, stating that a gangster never was on edge and was always composed, he had to be, or risk death. “Yes,” he said. “I’m sure you’ll meet him come the end of the night. You and Olivia both.”

“Really? W-why?” he asked in slight trepidation. Miss Ruby wasn’t trying to get them involved in the more illegal aspects of her business again, was she? Sure, while their working in a speakeasy wasn’t exactly legal by any means, Miss Ruby had promised not to make Xavier participate in the more dangerous parts again, stating his talents lay elsewhere. And surely, she wouldn’t make Olivia participate in any unsavory business either, right? He thought briefly of some of Miss Ruby’s competitors that made it a common practice to have the women employed there service patrons in other ways besides serving them drinks or singing on a stage. No, he thought, Miss Ruby had said that she wouldn’t delve into that sort of business. She had promised.

“Relax, kid. It’s nothing bad,” said Izzy, noticing Xavier’s unease.

“Then why do you have that l-look on your face?”

Izzy eyed him, clearly not anticipating him to be able to read him so well. The gangster shook his head and sighed. “You needn’t worry about that. I’m just being a silly old man is all. Really, you have nothing to worry about. Trust me.”

And he did. For some reason. Despite the stoicism and intimidating persona that Izzy always put on, Xavier knew that the man was fiercely loyal and cared deeply for those he thought of as his own. Somewhere over the years, Xavier and Olivia had fallen into that category for him. It felt like a great privilege.

“Ok,” he said with a nod. Izzy’s shoulders minutely relaxed. "And you're not old."

Izzy laughed at that. "Well I appreciate you thinking so."

"You're not even f-fifteen years older than me. And I'm certainly not old."

Izzy hummed. "No I suppose not." He turned back around and made his way back to the front of the house, acting as if nothing had happened. “I just wanted to come see you before you went back on stage. I wanted to wish you good luck and say break a leg. I know you’ll do great.”

Izzy left before Xavier could thank him. He stood there for several seconds, thinking over the odd behavior. Rarely did Izzy seem distracted or bothered by anything. And yet that’s exactly how he seemed. Not to mention him helping dress Xavier was something that Xavier never would have imagined the older man to do. It made his stomach roll in a not unpleasant way.

“Xavier! You need to hurry! Lilly’s almost done!” cried Olivia from a distance.

He quickly rushed to grab his bowtie and jacket, donning both as he rushed back to behind the stage, waiting for Lilly to finish her song. Olivia adjusted his askew tie, furrowing her eyebrows. “All good?”

Xavier nodded but did not answer. She was unable to ask further questions, however, before they were called to stage.

The rest of the night progressed without incident. No more trips and no stumbles over words. Xavier managed to get through his routine perfectly despite being distracted and searching the crowd for Izzy. He was nowhere to be seen. However, Xavier did notice Miss Ruby at a table with a man of similar age to herself with a flashy suit. The two conversed throughout Xavier and Olivia’s performance but the man never once took his eyes off the two of them. He was enraptured by their singing and dancing. Miss Ruby seemed pleased. Was this the friend Izzy spoke about? It had to be.

As the night came to a close, Xavier and Olivia made their way backstage to change. Before they could make it to the room they commonly used, Miss Ruby stopped them in their tracks. She was accompanied by the friend.

“Olivia! Xavier! If I could have a moment, please.”

“Of course, Miss Ruby,” said Olivia.

“This is my friend, Dermot O’Shannon.” The man stepped forward at being addressed and gave a broad smile at the two.

“Ah, so you are the sibling duo that Ruby has told me so much about. Well met.” He extended his hand and Xavier shook it. When Olivia took it the man bent over to kiss the back of her hand.

“Likewise,” said Olivia.

“Mr. O’Shannon here is quite the musical and storytelling genius. He quite enjoyed your performance,” said Miss Ruby.

Mr. O’Shannon laughed and batted his hand in mock exasperation. “Oh Ruby. You flatter me so! I’m but a humble Broadway worker.”

“Broadway?!” cried Olivia who looked at Xavier in barely contained excitement. Xavier vaguely recalled a friend that Miss Ruby had mentioned years ago who worked on Broadway. Was this that friend? She'd said she wanted to eventually introduce them to said friend.

Mr. O’Shannon smiled. “I see that got your attention. Ruby said you two are quite the fans of the finer arts.”

“Oh we sure are, sir! You have no idea!” said Olivia.

“I think I have a bit of an idea,” said Mr. O’Shannon giving them a knowing look. “After all, I wouldn’t be working on Broadway if I wasn’t a fan myself.”

“Of course, of course!” said Olivia, sheepishly. “Makes perfect sense! What exactly do you do, sir?”

“Mr. O’Shannon is a writer and composer!” said Miss Ruby.

“Composer??” Asked Olivia.

“W-writer??” Squeaked out Xavier.

“Sure am! But don’t ask Izzy that. He’ll say I can’t even compare to the likes of him. I say that I just haven’t made it quite as big as him yet!”

“Izzy?” questioned Xavier, confused. Was this man friends with Izzy as well? Why didn’t he mention that earlier?

“Not our Izzy, darling,” said Miss Ruby in way of explanation.

“Oh yes, I forgot your attack dog is named Irving and goes by Izzy, too,” said Mr. O’Shannon with a laugh. “No, no, no. I’m talking about my dear friend, Irving Berlin.”

“You know Irving Berlin?!” cried Olivia, any sort of decorum thrown out the window and Xavier couldn’t blame her. He was one of Broadway’s biggest composers and writers. He was a celebrity!

“Why of course! I had lunch with the man just the other week. Says he’s working on something big. Well, he’s not the only one! I’ve had a story in the works for some time, about a pair of siblings no less! I must say, I was inspired by the Gershwin brothers and Astaire siblings if I’m being perfectly honest.”

“Oh I don’t blame you!” said Olivia. “We have been inspired by them too!”

“So I’ve heard!” said Mr. O’Shannon. He smiled and looked to Miss Ruby. It seemed Miss Ruby had told the man about the two's little performance two years back with their unwitting audience. “And I’ve gotta say, Miss Ruby was telling me how I’d be inspired by the two of you too!”

Xavier and Olivia turned in unison towards Miss Ruby, eyes blown wide. “Truly?” asked Olivia.

“I always did tell you two that you have extraordinary talent,” Miss Ruby said.

“And I’m glad to see she was right,” said Mr. O’Shannon.

“When am I not, darling?” laughed Miss Ruby. Mr. O’Shannon only laughed with her.

“You liked our performance?” asked Olivia in bewilderment.

“Liked it? Oh no, no, no!” said Mr. O’Shannon causing the siblings to droop. “I loved it! Such showmanship! Such class! And the familiarity and chemistry on stage together, it’s something that I couldn’t find on stage unless the two truly knew and trusted each other. And that’s exactly what I’m looking for in my two leads!”

Olivia grabbed onto Xavier’s arm with a vicelike grip. Xavier grabbed tightly to her too, not quite believing what he was hearing. “You d-don’t mean…?” stuttered out Olivia, sounding more like her brother than herself.

Mr. O’Shannon beamed at the two. “That’s right! I want to make the two of you stars! I want to show Irving what’s what and that I can make it just as big as he can. I want the two of you to be my dynamic duo, my ace in the hole, my prized ponies!

“Now, now, Dermot. Don’t put too much pressure on the two!” Miss Ruby patted her friends’ arm, smiling but trying to calm him down. She eyed the two siblings, clearly able to tell they were overwhelmed.

“Pressure? Oh no, nothing like that. I’m only trying to offer them a wonderful opportunity!” he said in response. He looked at the siblings in question. “So what do you say? Would you like me to make you stars?”

Olivia looked at Xavier with wide eyes. Xavier felt unable to speak, shocked by the turn of events. He would have liked to say that there was no hesitation or fear inside him, but he would have been lying. Broadway. It was their dream! They’d been talking about it ever since they moved to the Big Apple, spinning fairytales of them performing for a real audience. It was absurd! Xavier had only been performing on stage with Olivia for a little over a year, finally able to get his stutter under control enough that he wouldn’t make a fool of himself. To go onto Broadway? If only Victor could see them now!

Olivia squeezed his arm in reassurance. She then turned to Mr. O’Shannon and smiled. “We would be honored!”

“Fantastic!” said Mr. O’Shannon before turning to Xavier. “And what say you, young man? Or you going to have your sister do all the talking for you?”

Xavier gulped, weary about being so directly addressed. Usually, he could get by with others speaking to his sister on behalf of himself. While some might have thought him pathetic or weak for it, he didn’t have it in him to step up and dissuade other’s perceptions of him. But so rarely was he ever in a position such as this. Mr. O’Shannon was correct, this was a wonderful opportunity. Something that he never imagined coming to fruition. He couldn’t keep standing back and allowing Olivia to take the lead all the time.

“N-no. Of course not. I-I was just shocked is all by your generous offer.” He paused, taking time to collect himself and then gave the most charming smile he could muster. “We would be thrilled to work for you, sir!”

Mr. O’Shannon and Miss Ruby both beamed at him. “Splendid!” he cried. “This will be spectacular!”

As the night turned to early morning, the two celebrated with the rest of their coworkers, having a grand celebration as a sendoff for the siblings through making their way through Miss Ruby’s alcohol. Their friends and coworkers congratulated them, some more sincere than others. While most of the other performers were happy for them, there were the odd few who were more envious than anything. Of course, they took this as a chance to shine now that the star performers were leaving, perhaps hoping to catch their big break as well. Frank was among the few who were happy to see them leaving, still bitter about Xavier being the one Miss Ruby tended to go to for urgent repairs.

Through the haze of alcohol, Xavier looked at the rowdy crew of the Ruby Red, still missing the quiet presence of Miss Ruby’s right hand man. In the back of the club, he finally spotted Izzy lingering in the dark, watching the proceedings. He was staring right at Xavier. He noticed the younger mans gaze and indicated towards a back door with his head, turning around and not waiting for the other to follow.

Xavier excused himself with ease, the rest of the crew too lost in their drink and fun to notice that one of the individuals they were celebrating was slipping out. Xavier made his way through the door but did not find Izzy. He felt bolstered by the liquor to venture further and find the one person he wanted to celebrate with more than anyone. Once he turned the corner, he saw Izzy standing by a room, holding onto the door handle and waiting for Xavier to enter. Without comment, Xavier walked through the door. Izzy closed it with a soft click of the lock.

It was Izzy’s office, more broom closet than anything. But it was his own personal space given to him by Miss Ruby that she had insisted on giving to him. There was a small couch up against one wall and a small table next to it. Across from it was his desk with one old chair behind it and another in front. A cabinet was against another wall, opposite from the door, and in-between the desk and couch. There wasn’t much in the way of decorations outside of a single plant in the corner and a framed photograph of the Ruby Red one New Year’s Eve night with the inside filled to the brim with patrons and its owners standing front and center with their loyal employees standing on either side. Izzy looked younger in the photograph, closer to Xavier’s age but still older. Xavier squinted at the date at the bottom indicating it was from ten years prior.

Izzy opened the cabinet, pulling out a bottle of liquor and two glasses. He silently poured a couple fingers worth in each glass before handing one to Xavier. He took it gratefully and sipped at it. He began coughing as soon as the harsh alcohol hit the back of his throat. Izzy chuckled.

“I should have warned you. That’s some of my own homemade stuff. Not exactly something anyone wants to buy. But it packs one hell of a punch and is quite strong.”

“Y-you don’t say,” coughed out Xavier.

Izzy sat down on the couch, sipping at his drink without issue. Xavier awkwardly sat down next to him, sitting as far away from the other as possible, some of his resolve dissipating now in the same room, alone, with the other man. Izzy placed his arm on the back of the couch, his hand resting right behind Xavier’s head.

“Well,” he said with a pause. “Broadway.”

Xavier nodded. “Yep. I guess so.”

“Well don’t sound so thrilled,” he teased.

Xavier blushed again. “S-sorry. I am happy. Truly! I-it’s just…a lot.”

Izzy hummed. “I can get that. It’s a huge step especially from two runaways from the middle of rural Mississippi. Betcha didn’t expect this outcome once you made it to the Big Apple.”

Xavier shrugged and looked down into his drink, his hands clasped around the glass. “Not really. Sure, we hoped for big things, but I never really expected anything. Olivia did, I think. I was just h-happy being away from that damn town.”

“And your father,” said Izzy. Xavier’s head whipped around and saw Izzy giving him an unreadable look. He shouldn’t be surprised that Izzy figured out the reason they left home. It was obvious to anyone who spoke to them that they were running from something. It’s not like they were the first or would be the last to have a shitty father.

Xavier simply nodded. “Yeah.”

“Well, you should be proud then. The two of you have come all this way with barely anything to your names. I’m sure if your old man could see you two today, you’d give him a right shock. Maybe he’d even be proud.”

Xavier snorted. “Doubt it. He wouldn’t believe it. He’d think I tricked Mr. O’Shannon somehow. Or said Mr. O’Shannon was a no-talent idiot. Something along those lines.”

Izzy took another sip of his drink, finishing it off. He grabbed the bottle of alcohol that he had placed on the small end table next to him and poured himself a couple more fingers. “His loss. Doesn’t know how good he had it with you two.”

Xavier preened under the praise but looked back down at his drink, attempting to hide his burning face. It was always a bit startling hearing praise from others besides Olivia. It felt nice but when Izzy did it, it especially felt good.

“I’m serious,” said Izzy. “You should be proud of yourselves. I know I am,” he said softly.

Out of the corner of his eye, Xavier felt Izzy’s gaze on him, but he resolutely refused to look up. He then felt a thumb brush the back of his neck, causing his back to shoot up, ramrod straight. He did not pull away, however. Izzy’s thumb rubbed up and down gently against his neck, tickling the hairs there. Xavier could feel his heart rate quicken.

“Everyone will miss you here, even ol’ Frank, despite his grumblings. I know he’s learned a lot from you about how to properly maintain the electricity here. Which thank God for that because I don’t know what we would have done with just his old self once you left. Fallen to ruin, I’m sure.” Izzy kept brushing against Xavier’s neck but with added pressure. His fingers were rubbing over his bare skin, making goosebumps shoot down his arms. Nails began to scratch through the back of his hair and Xavier couldn’t stop the shiver that wracked through his body.

“I-I doubt it,” Xavier gasped out, still looking down at his drink. His hands were clasped tightly around the glass. In an attempt to calm his nerves, he took a large gulp, coughing around it.

Izzy grabbed the back of his neck and gave a comforting squeezing. “Easy now. Don’t want you choking to death. Especially not now.”

Once he got his coughing under control, Xavier cleared his throat and took another smaller sip. “There you go,” said Izzy soothingly. “That’s it. Very good.”

A strangled whine was heard in the back of Xavier’s throat at the words and tone. It was almost too much for him to handle. He desperately wanted Izzy to remove his hand from carding through the hairs on his neck. And yet a bigger part of him wanted him to continue but start running his fingers through all his hair. He wanted Izzy to scratch at his scalp, slowly, rumpling his hair. He wanted to close his eyes and lean into the pressure, unafraid of anyone seeing them. Xavier then remembered; Izzy had locked the door upon their arrival.

Tentatively, Xavier closed his eyes and leaned his head back slightly, no longer fixating on the glass in his lap. Izzy took the signal and began carding his fingers through his hair, running his hand up his neck and to the top of his head. Xavier let out a soft sigh, barely audible, but this close he was sure Izzy heard it. The sound of a glass being placed on a table rung out through the room, almost deafening in the quiet. Izzy soon pulled Xavier’s glass from his fingers and the clang from it being placed on the table was equally loud. The only other sound Xavier could hear was the soft scratching through his hair and his now labored breathing. Next to him, he felt the couch shift as Izzy scooted closer. Their knees were now touching.

“I really am happy for you, Xavier. I want you to know that,” said Izzy, barely above a whisper. “You have worked hard to get to this point, and I know you’ll go even farther.”

Xavier didn’t open his eyes, he just listened to the low baritone voice of his companion and leaned his head slightly towards him, giving him better access to his head. “You are the smartest man I have had the pleasure of meeting. And talented. Your voice, God you voice is beautiful.”

Xavier swallowed. He thought that Izzy’s was beautiful too. He wondered what he would sound like if he sang. “It’s not just your voice too. It’s all of you. You have the kindest most beautiful soul I have met. I still can’t believe Ruby thought it would be a good idea to have you go on runs with me. Someone like you needs to be shielded from that. From this life. From people like me.”

He scowled but still did not open his eyes. Xavier shook his head slightly. “No. I don’t want to be shielded from you.”

“You should,” Izzy said more firmly. “You don’t know the things I’ve done. The blood I have on my hands. I shouldn’t even be touching you right now. I’ll taint you.”

He finally opened his eyes at that and turned desperate eyes towards Izzy. They were so close, inches away from each other’s faces. Xavier hadn’t realized that he had started to lean into the older man, his shoulder pressed up against Izzy’s chest. “But what if I want you to,” he whispered. “What if I want you to taint me?”

“You don’t know what you're asking,” said Izzy with a pained look on his face.

“I do,” said Xavier. Without meaning to, his eyes looked down at Izzy’s lips before quickly returning to his eyes. The look did not escape Izzy’s notice who trailed his hand on Xavier’s neck forward and onto Xavier’s cheek. He leaned his head into the hand, closing his eyes with a sigh. This is what Olivia had always talked about, insisting this is what he wanted. He had fought tooth and nail against her assumptions, hers and Josef’s both. He wasn’t like Josef and David, he told himself. He wasn’t a pansy.

But maybe he was, he thought, as he basked in the feel of Izzy’s rough, big hand, cradling his face. His thumb stroked just under his eye, so tender despite the extreme violence he knew the hands were capable of. For so long Xavier had felt like he was denying himself such a simple pleasure, something so sweet that now that he had it he craved it more than anything. He craved being held by someone so tenderly, as if he was something precious, something to be loved. He wanted to have someone look at him like he hung the stars, and like he was beautiful.

Xavier opened his eyes and saw Izzy looking at him just like that. “Please,” he begged. He looked at Izzy’s lips.

Izzy shook his head. “You’re so young. So innocent.”

“I’m not a child,” Xavier said, almost petulantly. Even to his own ears he sounded childish which only made him scowl more. “And I’m not so innocent.”

Izzy raised any eyebrow. “Have you ever even kissed anyone?”

Xavier huffed. “I kissed Sally Roberts in the first grade.” Izzy laughed. “A-and Lizzy Barnes in sixth grade!” Izzy laughed harder.

“Aww, Sally Roberts and Lizzy Barnes,” he said with a smile. “Anyone else?”

Without saying it, Xavier knew what Izzy was getting at. He’d only mentioned girls, no one else. He gulped. “M-my brother dared me to kiss Sally. And Lizzy was nice enough. She just liked me more than I liked her though.”

Izzy hummed. His thumb was still stroking at Xavier’s cheek and he was looking all over his face, almost as if he was trying to memorize Xavier’s face. “No one else?” he questioned again.

Xavier shook his head. “No.” Izzy nodded. Xavier quickly continued. “But I would like to!” He flushed at his enthusiasm. “I-I mean, I w-would like, that is to s-say, if you are o-ok with-”

He was cut off by Izzy moving his hand to place a finger on Xavier’s lips. “Shhhh,” he said, slowly lowering his finger and brushing his thumb across his bottom lip. “It’s ok. I know.”

Xavier’s eye’s returned to lips. “Then you’ll-?” he trailed off at the end.

“Xavier-” Izzy sighed.

“Please!” he said, grabbing onto the front of Izzy’s shirt, pulling him forward slightly. They were so close, practically sharing the same air. “I want this. I want you. I-I know you might think I’m just some stupid kid but I’m not.”

“You really need to listen to what those around you say about you, and I don’t mean the negative comments,” reprimanded Izzy. “Clearly I just told you that that is the furthest thing from what I think about you.”

Xavier looked into his eyes and felt a resolve wash over him, unlike he ever had before. “Then kiss me,” he gasped out. He had said it. He’d uttered the words. And to a man no less. Xavier wasn’t sure but he thought he might be shaking.

“You’re drunk,” said Izzy.

“Not anymore than you are,” countered Xavier, firmly.

“I can’t do this,” said Izzy, making Xavier’s heart fall. “You deserve so much better. You’re not part of this world, you shouldn’t be. I can’t drag you down here and keep you here. You are leaving,” he said with desperation in his voice.

“Then just for tonight,” pled Xavier. “Please, Izzy. If only for tonight, let me have you.”

Izzy stared at him for several long moments, searching his face. Whether he was looking for honesty or the same sort of desperation that was etched into his face he wasn’t sure, but whatever it was he found it for Izzy finally lurched forward and sealed his lips to Xavier’s.

Xavier gasped into the kiss, caught off guard. Izzy’s hand that had been stroking his face had drifted back into his hair, thoroughly ruffling it like Xavier had craved before. His other hand had fallen to Xavier’s hip, resting there with a firm yet gentle grip.

Finally, Xavier’s brain caught up with him and he began to respond. He tilted his head to the side, affording him better access to Izzy’s lips that he moved his own against. This seemed to spur the older man on, receiving the sort of reciprocation he was waiting for. Izzy leaned towards Xavier, pushing his back into the arm of the couch. Xavier’s hands that had been grabbing onto the other’s shirt, twisted the fabric into a tight hold, pulling the older man impossibly closer.

A wet tongue then grazed Xavier’s closed mouth, startling another gasp from him. His lips parted and Izzy plunged his tongue in. Oh dear God, this was nothing like the kisses he shared as a kid. Granted those were never exactly fully willing or desired but this, lord, he had been missing out on this?

Their tongues danced together in a way that stole his breath away. A whimper escaped his lips that would usually make him embarrassed but he couldn’t be bothered with in the moment. The noise seemed to excite Izzy if anything for the man sucked on Xavier’s bottom lip, nipping at it with his teeth and causing Xavier to let out a moan. The little bit of pain only heightened his pleasure, surprising him.

Xavier tentatively bit at Izzy’s lip back, wanting to see how he would react and was rewarded with a moan and being shoved back into the couch further. Izzy was practically lying on top of him, his weight baring down on him with Xavier’s head resting on the arm of the couch. Izzy’s one hand was placed right next to Xavier’s head, bracing himself up, while his other hand had moved from his hip to clutching onto his thigh. He brought Xavier’s thigh up and wrapped his leg around his waist. He then deepened the kiss and rolled his hip forward. Xavier broke the kiss, gasping at the sensation of feeling Izzy’s hardness rub against his own.

“That’s it,” Izzy said breathlessly. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

Xavier could only frantically nod his head up and down, unable to speak. Xavier moved his hands to the back of Izzy’s shirt, grabbing on for dear life. With his arms wrapped around him he was able to pull himself up and grind against Izzy again.

Xavier moaned. It felt so good. He moved his hips up and down and Izzy mirrored the movement. Xavier moved his hands down, squeezing at his behind and pushing their hips even closer together. Izzy groaned and his head fell to the side of Xavier's, his forehead pressing into the couch, their cheeks pressing against each other. This close, the panting from Izzy was incredibly loud in his ear and he imagined his own pants were equally loud to the other. He could hear every little groan and whimper from the other. It was incredible. Usually the other man was so put together but he sounded anything but in that moment. It made Xavier feel proud that he had managed to bring Izzy to this.

Izzy turned his head towards Xavier, his mouth grazing Xavier's neck. He shivered and tilted his own head away, encouraging Izzy without words. Thankfully he obliged because Izzy began peppering Xavier's neck with wet kisses. Izzy hooked a finger into Xavier's shirt collar and pulled it to the side. He continued to kiss the newly exposed skin and then began to suck at the juncture between his neck and shoulder. Xavier whined. Over his own panting he heard Izzy chuckle.

The older man then began to pull back slightly so Xavier grabbed onto the back of his shirt with a firmer grip, trying to pull him back. Izzy chuckled again. "Now now. I'm not going anywhere." Thankfully he didn't pull further away, only enough to get his hands between them. He began unbuttoning Xavier's shirt. While Izzy unbuttoned the shirt he leaned forward and locked Xavier in another kiss which he happily accepted. Once done with Xavier's shirt, Izzy ran his hands up Xavier's stomach and chest, goosebumps trailing behind. Izzy continued up to Xavier's shoulders and pushed the shirt to the sides. Izzy broke their kiss and he moved down, kissing Xavier's chest and shoulders. Xavier stared up at the ceiling, losing himself in the feeling of Izzy's lips on him and his hands constantly moving up and down on Xavier's sides and onto his legs. Izzy situated himself between Xavier's legs, his knees bracketing Izzy in.

A tongue flicked across Xavier's left nipple, making him gasp and arch his back up. Izzy flicked his tongue across it again before locking his lips around it and sucking the pebbled nipple into his mouth. Teeth grazed it and Xavier moaned. His hands found their way into Izzy's hair, pulling and pushing at his head. Izzy gave out a matching moan at the hands working into his hair. He moved his hands up Xavier's thighs, squeezing at the tops of them, trailing his thumb along his inner thigh. Izzy stopped just shy of where Xavier wanted them, teasing him with their strong grasp.

"P-please," he gasped out, arching his back towards the other again, trying to push him along. "Please, Izzy."

The mouth on his nipple moved back and Izzy's breath tickled across it, sending a shiver down his spine at the chill it brought him due to the wetness. "Please what?" Izzy asked.

Xavier scrunched up his eyebrows, knowing that Izzy knew what he wanted but forcing him to say it. He opened his eyes that he hadn't realized closing and looked down at the other. Izzy looked devine with his wet lips and rumpled hair that Xavier was still carding his fingers through. "What do you want me to do?" he asked again. "Tell me what you want."

If his skin wasn't already flushed from their exertion he was sure it would have turned red at the command. Xavier couldn't speak, however, unsure of what to say without sounding ridiculous. Words had never been his strong suit, let alone with this particular thing. For so long he had denied his own desires, pushing them down and telling himself he wasn't "like that". He thought if he ignored them then it would be true. But here he was, laying on his back with the object of his desires between his legs, shirt hanging off his shoulders and chest wet from saliva, the other man commanding him to speak his wants into being. Xavier knew that whatever he would demand, Izzy would give to him.

Xavier's toungue darted out, licking his lips which Izzy watched with rapt attention. "Touch me. I want you to touch me."

"I'm already touching you," Izzy said with a mischievious smirk. To emphasize the point, Izzy squeezed Xavier's thighs where his hands still rested.

"No. Here," Xavier said. He moved one shaking hand from Izzy's hair to one of Izzy's and moved it slowly to his groin. He gasped at the feeling of Izzy's hand finally on his hardness. Xavier squeezed the back of Izzy's hand, making Izzy squeeze him through his pants. He moaned and shut his eyes tightly. Thankfully Izzy began to work his hand firmly over Xavier's clothed cock without further instruction. "Yes. Y-yes. Right there."

"That's it," said Izzy who stared down at Xavier, watching him as he lost himself to his pleasure. "The wonders you can receive if you only would ask."

Xavier nodded. "Yes. More." He moved his hand back to Izzy's head, pulling him closer. "I want to feel your fingers. Without any clothes."

"No clothes, hhm?" Izzy's breath ghosted across Xavier's face. "I think I can oblige."

Izzy's hand stopped its stroking. Xavier would have whinned in complaint but then two hands began to pull at his belt, unbuckling it and pulling it from his pants loops with a snap. Izzy then unbuttoned Xavier's pants and began pulling them down along with his underwear. Cold air hit his now exposed erection and he gasped. His pants had been pulled down just enough to release his cock before Izzy's hand returned to it, but this time skin-to-skin. Xavier groaned loudly and he threw his head back.

Izzy squeezed his cock. "Feels wonderful, doesn't it? So much better than when it's your own hand."

"Yes. Yes. So good," panted Xavier, not fully aware of what he was saying.

Izzy's hand began moving up and down, teasing the tip and collecting some of the precum that was beading there and using it to slick up his cock. This eased his hand along, adding to the pleasure he felt. Izzy's hand increased its speed and Xavier felt like his head was spinning. "Izzy. God, Izzy!" Xavier opened his eyes and looked at the older man through a haze. The look in his eyes was hungry as he looked down at Xavier, switching his gaze from his face to his own hand working at Xavier, and back again.

"Grab me too," Izzy said through pants. "Touch me the same way."

Xavier eagerly nodded and clumsily unfastened Izzy's pants. He reached his right hand inside Izzy's pants and underwear, pulling Izzy's cock out. Izzy's hand faltered in his movements and groaned at having the younger man's hand grab him. Xavier gave an experimental squeeze and Izzy fell forward, his forehead coming to rest on the couch arm, next to Xavier's head. He slowly then began stroking at Izzy's cock, mimicking the same movement Izzy had displayed. "Yes, like that," groaned Izzy. Xavier was spurred on by that and he increased his speed. Izzy then returned to working his hand up and down and the two panted together as they worked each other up.

After several moments of that, Izzy then pushed Xavier's hand away and instead grabbed onto both of their cocks with one strong hand. The feeling of having his cock squeezed up next to Izzy's was incredible. He never imagined feeling like this. Izzy stroked them together at a quick pace, drawing both of them closer to the edge. A burning sensation was rising up inside of Xavier that he was desperate to release.

"I-I'm close," he moaned, twisting the back of Izzy's shirt between his hands. "Izzy, I'm so close."

Izzy pulled back slightly, and looked down at Xavier. Their noses were brushing together and their breaths mixed together all the while Izzy's hand was moving up and down. "Yes," he said. "Come, Xavier. I want to see you come."

Xavier groaned and whinned, squirming underneath the other man. He couldn't look away from Izzy and wanted to watch him too. He was right on the edge, so close. Izzy tightened his grip and the added pressure was exactly what he needed for not a moment later he felt his climax overtake him and he cried out in pleasure. He threw his head back and closed his eyes tightly for only a second before they flew back open, remembering he wanted to see Izzy. The older man was still frantically moving his hand up and down, driving Xavier crazy as he worked him through his release. Cum shot across his chest in streams before finally stopping but Izzy kept going. Xavier felt oversensitive and whinned but realized Izzy still hadn't come so instead of pushing Izzy away he bore it, wanting Izzy to find his own release and if watching Xavier squirm and whine would help him then he wanted the older man to continue.

Finally, just as Xavier thought he couldn't bare it any longer, Izzy's cock twitched beside Xavier's, and more cum shot across Xavier's chest. Izzy let out a loud and long groan, shutting his eyes as he still continued to stroke at their cocks, working himself along before finally stopping. Izzy's head fell to Xavier's shoulder and he collapsed onto the other as the two caught their breath. The cum on Xavier's chest smeared at the movement, surely ruining Izzy's shirt.

They lay together for several minutes, basking in the afterglow. Xavier's hands at some point had found their way back into Izzy's hair but were now gently carding through his hair, soothing both. Any of the shame or regret that Xavier thought would have came afterwards didn't come. Instead he felt relaxed. He felt content.

He and his sister had just been offered the job of their dreams. They were about to achieve everything they had sought out to do when they left their home town. On top of that he had finally given into the feelings that had been swirling inside of him for years. And instead of hating himself even more he finally felt free for accepting it. Was this what true happiness felt like?

Izzy began to stir and propped himself up on his elbows. He looked down at Xavier with what he could only describe as a tender smile. Izzy raised one hand to brush a couple stray strands of hair away from Xavier's sweaty forehead. His expression was soft and the smile he wore made his face look years younger. He was right all those years ago, a real smile did look beautiful on Izzy's face.

Yes, he thought, this was true happiness. And he hoped it would never end.

Notes:

In 1924:
Xavier (Vox) is 19
Olivia is 22

In 1926:
Xavier (Vox) is 21
Olivia is 24

I don't know how I feel about this chapter. It's kind of more of a transitional chapter to bigger things. That might have been why this chapter took a little while to write because I just wasn't fully feeling it. I think it turned out fine in the end, it's just more of everything that happened in the chapter wasn't as big or important as other chapters outside of Xavier/Vox coming to terms with his sexuality and finally introducing him into the world of performing and acting/singing/etc. This was also my first attempt at writing smut so IDK how that went. I think it turned out alright but let me know what you think. It's not like this story will have a lot of it but I did say early on that it will be present so prepare yourselves.

In regard to Izzy, I honestly wasn't expecting to write a sex scene with him or even have him and Xavier have sex. He was meant more to just be a character to have Xavier fully realize and accept he is attracted to men. Izzy is a bit of an older man too, in my mind he's a little shy of being 15 years older. I will say, he and Xavier didn't meet until Xavier was already an adult. Having that age difference I'm not saying is good or bad, one way or another. It just is but I want to make it clear that it's nothing illegal.

Also, seems like the name "Papermint" is a fanon name for Vox's assistant but I didn't know what else to call him so Papermint it is! It doesn't seem that he has a name at this point in canon.

O'Shannon is of Irish and Scottish origin which means "skilled storyteller".

Historical facts about this chapter:

The Prohibition took place from January 17, 1920 – December 5, 1933.

Fred and Adele Astaire were a sibling duo who performed together on Broadway. Adele is the elder of the two, just like Olivia. They performed together in the musical "Lady, Be Good!" in 1924. The song that Olivia and Xavier sing together is called "I'd Rather Charleston" which was first sung by this sibling pair in that play. This song was written by George Gershwin, a famous composer and pianist.

Irving Berlin was a famous composer and songwriter who wrote hundreds of songs for several Broadway musicals in the 1900's.

 

And as always, stay tuned for the next chapter!

Chapter 14: A Heavenly Meeting II

Summary:

Its 1909 and then 1910. Alastor meets a strange older man who shows an interest in him who has an odd obsession with a strange contraption called the radio.

In the present, a Heavenly Meeting part II. Will it yield any positive results?

Notes:

Wow! Look at me. Another chapter in less than two weeks. I'm doing great! Don't get used to it, however. Y'all are lucky with this.

Trigger warning for chapter: mentions of human trafficking, mentions of prostitution, period typical racism

1909

Alastor chopped at the ribs, cutting the meat into smaller pieces for an easier means of consumption. Blood stained his hands and apron that he wore over his clothes and the sounds of bones cracking filled the air as he hacked away. While others might find the display and sounds nauseating, it was something he had gotten used to over the past couple of years, however reluctantly.

He placed the pieces of meat into a bucket before whipping his hands on a bloody cloth. Of course it didn't get his hands completely clean, that was nigh impossible at this point. He grabbed the bucket, however, and made his way over to an ice box where he placed the pieces of meat. Once done, he began to clean up the table he had been using to cut, discarding what remained and was not good for eating. A door opened behind him which he ignored, continuing with his work.

"Finished with the lamb?" Came the gruff voice behind him.

"Yes. It's all stowed away in the ice box," he replied. He heard the lid of the box open as his boss examined his handy work.

"Good. The Stevenson's will be by tomorrow for their order of lamb chops. I'll be out on a delivery so make sure to get it to them."

"Of course, sir," he said in a pleasant voice despite his annoyance. It's not like he hadn't taken care of the shop while Mr. Dummer had been away in the past without incident while still taking care of preparing the meat and accepting deliveries. He hated that his boss felt the need to reiterate the same instructions every time as if he was an idiot despite the fact he had been working for the man for over a year now. He knew his way around a knife by now, thanks in part to not just his working at the butcher shop but his other...job. It would be nice if Mr. Dummer would treat him with a little respect. Especially seeing as how Alastor was the one to practically save the other from going out of business due to his alcohol consumption. No one would work with the difficult man, due in no small part to his drunken behavior that only made his ill temper worse. He was under no illusions that the other only hired him because he had no other options available, but Alastor wasn't just the last resort, he was skilled with a knife and had even brought in his own kills at a discounted price for the man. Alastor truly was too generous to his employer.

"Once you're done cleaning up, I need you to load up the truck and take it out for today's deliveries." Mr. Dummer slapped a piece of paper down on a clean counter. "Here's the list of orders."

Alastor nodded his understanding, watching the other out of the corner of his eye and noticing a slight hitch in his step as he exited the room. Ahh. So he'd been drinking again. Usually, his boss was the one to make the deliveries but every once in a while when his boss had had too much to drink while at work he made Alastor do the deliveries. At least the other man was aware enough when he had had too much and wasn't risking others' lives. And their truck. Alastor dreaded the thought of what they would have to do if Mr. Dummer wrecked the shop's truck. He was sure that he would be the one expected to do the deliveries at that point, walking all around town and cutting well into his evening just to ensure everyone got their orders. And if he had to make deliveries well into the evenings, he didn't know how he would be able to fit in the other tasks he was expected to complete at night by Her.

'You know what you would have to do should any mortal job cut into your obligations to the Mistress,' came the hissed whisper in his mind, startling him slightly. Alastor had gotten used to the constant companion over the years but every once in a while, he would forget about the shadow. He looked to the side and saw his shadow smile at him before shifting and appearing, for all intents and purposes, like a normal shadow. He huffed in annoyance. He couldn't be sure, but he thought the thing was laughing at him. It liked reminding him of its presence when he least expected it, making him jump. 'It is always good to serve as a reminder of Her.'

Alastor grumbled under his breath. "It's not like I'm going to forget Her any time soon what with you constantly going on and on about Her."

'Good. She would hate to have to remind you herself.'

Alastor rolled his eyes as he looked over the list of orders before he began loading up boxes with prepared meat. A rack of ribs. A pound of chicken breasts. A couple sirloins. A link of sausages. He packaged it all up and then started loading it all onto the truck. "You know," he began. "If I ever did have to complete deliveries on foot it would go a lot faster if you would help me with it."

It was the same tired argument the two had been through before. Alastor wanted the shadows help in completing his work and the shadow said that he had to be the one to learn how to do things on his own. The damn thing sounded like his mother at times. He knew how to make deliveries and cut up meat, he just wanted a little help in making it go faster. The faster it went, the more time he'd have for Her. Now he was sure the shadow was laughing at him for it echoed in his mind. 'Should the Mistress demand more than the measly amount of tasks she sets out for you, I shall reconsider. But she does not call on you or me at an unreasonable frequency. She knows you are still young and unskilled in the jobs she sets out for you.'

Alastor scowled. Unskilled? He was not unskilled. At least not anymore. His last kill was a success, ending the man's life quickly and silently before he even knew what was happening. Alastor thought of the spurts of blood that shot from the man's neck, making a mess in the alleyway and startling Alastor at the display. He had hit a major artery, causing a bigger mess than he was expecting. He had done the very same before with some of the animals he had slaughtered but doing it to a human still felt different. He swallowed thickly at the lump in his throat that formed.

'Three successful kills by your hands alone does not make for a skilled craftsman. You still squirm at the thought of ending a human's life and at the sight of their blood.' Alastor felt his cheeks heat up at the reprimand. It was more difficult than he thought it would have been to kill another. It's part of why he took this job. He thought with time killing another human would feel no different than butchering an animal, yet that hadn't happened yet. Killing a human still felt like that, killing a human.

'In time, child. You will get used to it in time,' soothed the shadow.

"Easy for you to say," grumbled Alastor as he took off his apron and began to wash his hands and arms. "You're just a Demon. It's not like they're your own kind."

'And what do you know of Demon's? Nothing but what I have told you or what you have seen of me,' hissed the shadow. He supposed that was true enough but still, of course it would be easy for a Demon to kill humans. 'You will learn all you need to know in time, child. You will then know just how truly ignorant you are.'

Yeah, yeah, he thought. He was just a stupid human child who didn't know anything. He knew more than enough, far more than the damn shadow, his boss, and all the other people who underestimated him and thought him stupid and weak. He received no further response from his shadow as he donned his hat and jacket and got into the driver seat of the truck. He looked over the list of orders again, instead looking at the names and addresses of the customers. Most were names he was familiar with except for one at the bottom; Charles Ainsley. He furrowed his eyebrows at the note beside it, indicating how much the person had been charged. It was a higher price than what they normally charged for the meat that had been ordered. The address too wasn't one that was particularly far, at least no further than some of their other customers that they delivered to at a cheaper price. Why was this person being charged more? Had they pissed off his boss somehow? It was a possibility. The man wasn't known for being particularly reasonable and he'd charged others more for some imagined slight or minor inconvenience. He wondered what this Mr. Ainsley had done to insight the wrath of his boss.

Alastor started the truck and pulled away, making his way towards the first stop. He made his deliveries without incident, even earning a few tips from some of the customers that were charmed by his smile and polite demeanor and were unaware of his parentage. The few Italian customers that his boss serviced gave him a fond smile too, while not exactly any tips came his way, he understood and was just happy to not be sneered at. He did obtain a tasty pastry from one that despite not being a huge fan of sweets he took gratefully. Alastor equal parts enjoyed doing the deliveries and hated it with the mix of reactions he received from those he delivered to. The further from his neighborhood he got the better the reactions he received.

Finally, the last stop he had left was the new customer he wasn't familiar with that was the furthest from the shop. He was curious about this Mr. Ainsley.

He pulled up to a street filled with nice houses and well-tended to lawns. It seemed this Mr. Ainsley may have a little bit of money to his name but nothing exorbitant. Regardless, it was a fair bit more than what he had ever been used to. Perhaps this was why his boss charged more, due to the money the man had. The last house on the street belonged to Mr. Ainsely.

Coming to a stop in front of it, Alastor got out of the truck and walked towards the front with the order, noting it was quite a large one. He knocked on the door and as he waited for an answer he looked around. He looked at the lush lawn and garden along the house that he thought his mother would have loved. He admired the large windows and what looked to be a fresh paint job on the house. As Alastor looked up, he noticed an odd amalgamation of metal poles extending from the roof to one side of the house. He paused at the odd fixture that seemed so out of place with the otherwise normal and perfect looking house. What sort of design choice was that?

The front door then opened, and Alastor turned to be faced with a middle-aged man dressed in a nice suit. Alastor's eyes widened fractionally, however, when he looked at the darker skin. The man was lighter skinned than his mother and others from his neighborhood but was darker than Alastor. Despite his dark skin, the man's nice and clearly expensive suit would look out of place in Alastor's neighborhood. He cleared his throat and said, "Excuse me, sir. I'm here with a delivery for a Mr. Ainsley."

"Ahh, you're here with my steak," said the man. Did he say HIS steak? Was this man not working here?

"Uhh, yes. For Mr. Ainsley."

The man raised a single eyebrow. "Yes. And that is me," he drawled. Alastor blinked. THIS was Mr. Ainsley? He owned this house? Well, he supposed this explained why he was charged more for his order.

The older man looked Alastor over with a sharp expression. Usually, Alastor ignored when he was being stared at, used to such scrutiny, but there was something about the way the man looked at him that made him uncomfortable. Almost as if the man could see right through him and knew all of his secrets. He tried to keep from fidgeting but was unsuccessful. The older man looked back into Alastor's eyes and smirked. He then took a step back, opening the front door further, and said, "Come in. You can help bring that to my kitchen for me. It looks quite heavy and you're quite young. You look more than capable of handling it."

Alastor hesitated but stepped through the door without comment. This wasn't a common part of his delivery duties, most preferring to keep him out of their house. Mr. Ainsley clearly had no such reservations, however. Once inside, Mr. Ainsely shut the door and walked away. Alastor trailed behind him.

The inside of the house was just as well put together as the outside of the house. There were beautiful paintings and expensive looking plates in a cabinet. The furniture looked old but well maintained and equally expensive. There didn't seem to be any dust or dirt anywhere, everything pristine and clean. Alastor spied a large grand piano in one room as he passed. This man owned all of this? How was that possible? What could he have possibly done to acquire such things?

They soon entered a kitchen that was just as nice as the rest of the house, if not even grander. The kitchen was positively huge! If his mother would have loved to see the garden out front, he was sure she would have died at seeing such a big kitchen. And well stocked too! Alastor heard a chuckle from the side and noticed Mr. Ainsley looking at him. "I see you like the kitchen," he said. "You too enjoy cooking?"

Alastor nodded. "Yes, sir. My mother taught me when I was quite young."

"Very good. It's always good to learn such things from those that come before us. Can't let such knowledge and old family recipes be lost."

"Yes, sir. My mother would agree with you wholeheartedly."

"Sounds like a smart woman," he replied. Mr. Ainsley then indicated towards the island in the kitchen. "You can put the box there. I'll be preparing most of that for tonight anyways. You can help me with the couple of items that will need to be stored."

Alastor helped unload the box, grabbing the items he was instructed to bring with as he again followed the older man through the house. Every room was just as beautiful as the last. He made his way down some stairs and into the basement where he was instructed to put the meat into an ice box. Once done, he noticed some odd equipment in one corner of the basement with odd dials.

"I see you've noticed my radio equipment," said Mr. Ainsley, drawing his attention.

"Radio?" he questioned.

"Indeed." Mr. Ainsley walked towards the equipment, placing a hand on the equipment. "I'm sure you noticed my radio tower outside."

He thought back to the odd assortment of metal poles coming from the roof. "Was that what that was?"

"Yes. I built it myself. In fact, I built all of this. It's quite impressive if I do say so myself."

Alastor thought perhaps it was, if it all worked. But even then, why go through all that trouble? Did this man work for the government in some capacity? Or perhaps he used it to broadcast to boats. If so, wouldn't it make sense to build the tower closer to the water and further from town?

"I can see your skepticism," said Mr. Ainsley. "But come, let me show you."

Mr. Ainsley began fiddling with the equipment, turning dials and flipping switches. Alastor had no idea what he was doing but the movements seemed to be familiar to the older man. Static sounded from a box and after a couple moments sound came through it, a man's voice. Some nautical speech that he didn't understand either.

"You can pick up broadcasts from boats from here?" Alastor asked in surprise.

"Indeed!" said Mr. Ainsley cheerfully. "Isn't it grand!"

"Can you broadcast back?" he asked in wonderment.

"Well, I suppose I could, but I'd imagine I could get in some trouble messing with such things. Mustn't confuse them," chuckled Mr. Ainsley.

"Then why have all this?" questioned Alastor, not understanding what the point was.

"Why isn't it obvious?" asked Mr. Ainsley. "Radio is the future! It's not just something that is useful for maritime navigation and such. It is something that could be of great use to the public as well. Just imagine the possibilities! News could be spread this way, reaching a wider audience and all at once instead of mass-producing newspapers. Or what about music? Music could be shared this way, bringing new music to the public that some had never heard before. Oh, wouldn't that be delightful!"

Alastor had to admit it all sounded fantastical and unbelievable. And yet it sounded exciting! If only it was possible, but he doubted anyone would care for such things.

"I can see it in your eyes," said Mr. Ainsley. "You agree."

Alastor shrugged. "Sure, it sounds entertaining. But it's not like there's any public radio broadcasts."

"Not yet there isn't," he said with a smile. "But there will be one soon enough, mark my words. I'm hoping to be the first to do it!" Alastor raised his eyebrows. "You have your doubts. Not to worry, you're not the first to underestimate me and you certainly won't be the last. But I'll prove all who have doubted me wrong. And you too, young man." Mr. Ainsley narrowed his eyes at Alastor but the look on his face looked almost playful. "You'll just have to come back and see for yourself."

"What?" cried Alastor.

"You heard me. Or is your hearing not so great?" he asked in a teasing manner. "That would be a right shame if that was the case seeing as I can tell you are intrigued by the auditory splendor of the radio! I can teach you all you could possibly want to know about it. If you would like."

Alastor stared at him in incredulity. He was right, this Mr. Ainsley was an odd man. Here Alastor was, having met the man only minutes prior when he delivered him some meat, he invited him in, and now he was inviting him back to learn about the radio? Alastor scowled and looked at the man's darker skin. He shouldn't be inviting young men into his home who could take advantage of him. Young men who for all intents and purposes appeared to be a white boy. Perhaps he thought like so many others that he was of Italian descent. Or maybe even Spanish. Maybe he assumed he would find a sympathetic soul in Alastor. He doubted the older man received much of it out here in a white, well-off neighborhood.

"You know," said Mr. Ainsley. "You're awfully easy to read." Alastor disagreed. Most were easy to fool. They wouldn't be easy to fool if they knew the thoughts swirling around in his head or the secrets he held. "Or perhaps you just are to me. I'm sure you're usually much better at keeping your thoughts to yourself but you've been off kilter ever since I opened my front door." Alastor froze which made the other man laugh at Alastor's surprise at being so easily read. "Surprised at seeing another mixed-race man, and a wealthy one at that?"

Alastor's eyes widened. "You're mixed-race?"

"Indeed," he chuckled. "And I can tell you are too. You might be able to fool others with that skin of yours, but I know what you are. Tell me, which of your parents is black."

"My mother," he said in a daze.

"Ah, mine too. My father was a Frenchman. Came here decades ago and met my mother. Fell in love immediately. Caused quite the uproar with his family but then again so did him moving to America.”

"Your father raised you?" asked Alastor, feeling a tightness in his throat. Mr. Ainsley's eyes softened and Alastor hated it. He didn't need the other man's pity.

"Yes. He did," said Mr. Ainsley softly. "He was a good man. Always did what he wanted and didn't concern himself with what others thought of him. It's a rather freeing way to live."

Alastor doubted that. It is impossible to live without the concerns of what others think, especially when the will and opinions of others so often shape society itself. Everyone was slaves to society and to think otherwise was foolish. Perhaps Mr. Ainsely's parents were among the lucky few to find happiness together and with their son but that wasn't how it was for most like them. Alastor was intimately aware of this.

"Let's make a deal," said Mr. Ainsley, seemingly out of nowhere.

"A deal?" he asked cautiously.

"Now, now. No need to sound so suspicious," Mr. Ainsley said with a smile. "It's nothing nefarious. It's an equally beneficial deal, I should think." Mr. Ainsely walked towards him with one hand in his pocket, appearing completely at ease, in contrast to how stiffly Alastor held himself. "You keep bringing me my orders, at the appropriate price everyone else is charged, and I'll teach you about my radio."

Alastor scowled. "You knew that Mr. Dummer was charging you extra? Why would you purchase anything from him then?"

Mr. Ainsley scoffed. "Like any quality butcher wouldn't charge me extra. Look at me!" He laughed. "I'm sure you, as one of his employees, would be more than capable of working something out to have me charged fairly, the same as everyone else." He wasn't wrong. As Mr. Ainsley's employee, and as someone who provided Mr. Ainsley with a fair share of animals himself, he was given a discounted price of the meat sold there. He was sure that if Alastor didn't work there and did so much for the business that Mr. Dummer would be more than happy to charge Alastor extra, the same as Mr. Ainsley. If Alastor purchased meat from the shop, under the guise of it being for himself, he could get Mr. Ainsley his orders. But was he willing to give up his quality and discounted meat to this man? He could always charge Mr. Ainsley the full price and pocket the difference.

"What else?" he asked.

Mr. Ainsley looked amused. "Oh, look at you, haggling. What more would you want?"

"Whatever you make with your orders you'll give me half." He could bring home meals for his mother, good quality one's if the upstairs kitchen was any indication. He hoped it wasn't just for show and that this man actually knew how to cook.

"Done."

Alastor blinked in surprise. "Truly? You'd agree just like that?"

Mr. Ainsley shrugged. "I told you I enjoy cooking. That's what all that meat is for upstairs, a dinner party with some friends later on. I do so love cooking for others. But in exchange you'll have to teach me some of your recipes as well and you'll have to help me cook when you come over. Things go much faster with two hands instead of one."

Alastor stared at the other for several seconds. "That's an awful lot of time to be spending with some stranger."

"We won't be strangers after spending that time together," said Mr. Ainsley.

"Why would you want to not be strangers?" Alastor asked skeptically.

"Call me a lonely old man, I suppose." Mr. Ainsley put a finger to his chin and looked up in mock contemplation. "Or perhaps I just really like my food and will do anything for some cheap quality meat and new recipes." He looked down and smiled at Alastor. "Or maybe I just like to see your little mind working trying to work out what sort of imagined manipulation I'm pulling over on you." He leaned towards Alastor. "I guess you'll have to come around to find out!"

Alastor shook his head in disbelief. "You're quite strange.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Mr. Ainsley said with a smile.

Alastor paused. “And you smile too much.”

Mr. Ainsly barked out a laugh. “No such thing! You’re never dressed without one, I always say!"

Alastor looked away and reluctantly grumbled, “That’s what my mother always says.”

“Sounds like your mother is a woman after my own heart!”

Alastor shot a withering look at the older man. Mr. Ainsley laughed and put up his hands in a placating manner. “Easy young man. I meant nothing by it.” He put his hands down and extended one. “Well, do we have a deal?”

Alastor stared down at the hand wearily. He thought of the last deal he made and how that had ended. The gargled out, ‘Please…’ and bloody mess still haunted his dreams. Thankfully his shadow stayed quiet, however. He looked to the side and at the radio equipment. It did seem quite fascinating, but he wasn’t fully sold on the benefits and possibilities. If nothing else, at least, it would be a welcome distraction from his everyday life.

Finally, his shadow made itself known and hissed, ‘Don’t let it become too much of a distraction that it detracts from what the Mistress demands of you.’ Alastor swallowed thickly but internally scoffed. He didn’t need to be constantly reminded of that. He made a deal, and he remembered the terms.

Without any further hesitation Alastor extended his hand and shook Mr. Ainsley’s who beamed at him. “There’s a good lad. You won’t regret it!”
______________________________________________________________________________
Today was the day! The next big meeting with Heaven!

Charlie was buzzing with nervous yet excited energy. While most meetings she’d had with Heaven hadn’t gone well she felt confident about today’s meeting. She had Vox at her side, and she believed full heartedly in his negotiating skills.

While Vaggie had been hesitant over the past couple weeks with Charlie’s extended association with the Sinner, Charlie felt that she was slowly getting to know the Sinner pretty well and trusted the man. Well, trust might be a strong word for it, but she believed that true trust could build between the two of them in time. She was sure of it! Besides, thus far he’d done nothing but be helpful to her and the hotel. Sure, he was a powerful Overlord but that didn’t mean he was a BAD guy, per say. Just look at Alastor and Rosie! They were Overlord’s too, and while they had some less than savory…quirks, they were her friends. Of course, when Charlie had made that same argument days prior, Vaggie was less than convinced. Charlie loved her girlfriend, but she could be so distrusting sometimes.

Charlie was currently getting ready for the day in her bathroom. She wanted to look her best to put on the best impression for Heaven. While Sera seemed impossible to win over, it was obvious that at least in Emily she had found a kindred spirit. All Charlie had to do was convince Emily to her side and things would go well. She was already convinced that things were going well for the two Seraphim had informed her the day prior that they would be attending the meeting in person and had requested her father open a portal to Hell so they could be in attendance. She felt like this was good news, at least when it came to the matter concerning Alastor, for how else would the Seraphim be able to get the antidote for him then if they came in person? Again, Vaggie felt differently and was worried about the Seraphim planning a sneak attack. Her father agreed and both had decided to remain at the embassy during the meeting. While Charlie believed their concerns were unwarranted, she couldn’t argue with their cautious nature. Although Charlie worried that her father’s more nervous energy had more to do with the return of her mother.

Having her mother show up out of the blue was to say the very least, surprising. But good surprising! She hadn’t seen or heard from her mother in over seven years, and she was thrilled to have her home! Charlie knew herself well enough to admit that perhaps her optimism and excitement over the meeting with Heaven had more to do with her lingering good mood from her mother’s return rather than feeling confident that the meeting would actually go well. In either instance, she thought her optimism was a good thing to have going into the meeting, losing her cool like last time or showing a lack of confidence surely wouldn’t help matters. She was determined to ride this high from her mother’s return and chose to view it as a good omen!

Her mother had expressed interest in Charlie’s recent work with the hotel which thrilled her immensely! Her interest in Charlie and her work was far more immediately apparent versus her father’s interest in her work when she first opened the hotel. Charlie felt guilty at that thought, knowing that he had come a long way towards believing in her and had done a lot in way of helping her out in recent months. Still, the lingering hurt from the years of abandonment didn’t just go away after a couple of months.

That made Charlie think about the past seven years of her mothers absence. It…hurt not having her mother there and not knowing where she had gone. And upon her arrival, her mother didn’t offer any sort of explanation outside of “official business”. Charlie wanted to ask and push her mother further, but she was so caught up in the relief of having her mother back that she didn’t push more that first night. And the past couple of days she was still so caught up with the excitement at being able to show her mother everything she had accomplished that she hadn’t pushed further then either. That was the ONLY reason. Nothing else. She wasn’t worried that pushing would result in abandonment again. Not at all! Because it’s not like her mother would leave unless she absolutely had to. Whatever the reason for her mother’s disappearance, she knew that there was a reasonable explanation and that her mother would tell her in time. Absolutely!

She busied herself with putting on her make-up as a distraction. She had nothing to worry about she told herself. Nothing at all. Minutes went by and eventually Vaggie made her way into their shared bathroom without a word. However, Charlie could see the looks Vaggie was shooting her through the mirror and the silence spoke volumes. She wanted to say something but didn't know how Charlie would take it.

"Good morning," Vaggie said as she stood at the second sink, looking at Charlie's reflection. Charlie smiled and returned the greeting. More silence. "You seem awfully chipper this morning," said Vaggie.

Charlie laughed. "When am I not chipper in the morning?" It was true. Charlie was by definition, a morning person, much to her girlfriend's and other inhabitants of the hotel's chagrin. Perhaps the only other one who could be defined as a morning person was Alastor, and unfortunately as of late he hadn't shown that enthusiasm, understandably she reminded herself.

"True," said Vaggie. "You just seem even more so. You excited for the next meeting with Heaven?" she asked, hedging around whatever it was she truly wanted to say.

Charlie smiled and turned to Vaggie with a knowing look. "Don't worry, Vaggie. This meeting will go great, I know it. I know I've said that in the past but I truly think this time we're going to really get somewhere with Heaven. Vox and I have got this."

Vaggie gave her a skeptical look. "Charlie, babe. I know you think the best of everyone but I really want you to be careful around him. He's dangerous. I don't fully trust in his intentions in helping us with Heaven. He wants something too out of these meetings."

Charlie shrugged and turned back to the mirror, continuing with applying her make-up. "Yeah, I know."

Vaggie looked at her in surprise. "You do?"

"Of course." She looked at Vaggie's reflection and smiled. "He's trying to save Alastor!"

Her girlfriend rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Babe, I know it might seem like that on the surface level but I mean come on, he cares for Alastor? They're rivals! Everyone knows that! And besides, Alastor makes his resentment more than apparent towards Vox. And while some of Vox's actions may make it seem like he cares for Alastor, Lord knows why, there's enough of his actions that say otherwise. I just don't want you to be fooled by him. He's a skilled manipulator."

Charlie put down her mascara at that, her normally happy demeanor now subdued. She was aware of Vox's reputation for manipulation. There wasn't an Overlord who didn't have that reputation tied to them, Vox just doubly so. But Charlie believed it had more to do with his brand of manipulation being more obvious and in your face. Literally. His face was plastered all through Hell with whatever product or sort of entertainment he was trying to sell to Hell's citizens, Sinner and Hellborn alike. His twirling hypnotic eye made it even more obvious too. While his hypnotism didn't effect the more powerful denizens of Hell, it did wonders on those less powerful. And while pretty much everyone was aware of it, the low ranking Sinners and Hellborn still subjected themselves to this influence, so enamored with the products and entertainment that the Vee's pushed out that they were ok with allowing themselves to be swayed.

Admittedly this fact made Charlie uncomfortable but this was Hell. While that didn't necessarily excuse Vox's manipulating tactics, Charlie was at least aware of it. And she believed that while he was a dangerous and controlling Overlord, she also believed in an innate goodness that he and all souls had. If she didn't believe in that, than how could she go around preaching redemption?

She turned towards Vaggie, and grabbed her upper arms in a reassuring manner. "I know, Vaggie. Truly I do. I know you worry about me and think I'm unaware of how Sinners can be but I'm not. I'm aware that Vox might be trying to get something more out of this arrangement but also I think that there's more to him. He just needs someone to believe in him."

Vaggie sighed. "Charlie. You believe that about everyone."

"Because it's true!" She cried with cheer. Then more hesitantly she asked, "Don't you? I thought you also believed in redemption."

"I do!" Vaggie hastened to add, not wanting to offend Charlie. "It's just - I don't know if all Sinners are," she said sheepishly.

Charlie dropped her hands from Vaggie's arms, hurt despite Vaggie's attempts at doing otherwise. "Really?"

Vaggie nodded. "I know that's not what you want to hear. And I'm sorry for that. But...I mean come on. All Sinners? They're down here for a reason. And some of them are truly awful. And Overlords are some of the worst."

Charlie turned away in frustration and hurt. "Sure, Overlords have done some terrible things, as have a lot of Sinners. But this is Hell! The environment doesn't exactly lend towards people making good decisions. But that doesn't mean Overlords aren't deserving of redemption." Charlie looked back at Vaggie who looked ready to argue. "I mean what about Carmilla Carmine! You seem to like her! She helped in the last extermination. And so did Rosie! And-!"

"Don't say Alastor!" interrupted Vaggie. "I KNOW you wanted to think the best of him but Charlie, he's one of the worst." She sighed again and ran a hand through her hair. "I'll admit that Carmine isn't so bad. And Rosie too, despite the whole cannibalism. But Alastor? Vox? Charlie, they're some of the worst."

Charlie crossed her arms in frustration. "Well I think it's best for us to agree to disagree on this. I think they're not so bad."

Vaggie sighed and leaned back on the counter. "Fine. I'll relent about Alastor. He's dangerous but at least he's not like Vox." Charlie turned slightly, looking at Vaggie out of the corner of her eye at that. So often did Vaggie voice her dislike and discomfort about Alastor. If she was going to give up on this point then it meant she felt truly strong about the other point she wanted to convince Charlie of. "I know you have been starting to like the guy but you really don't know what he's really like. The things he's done. It's - it's not good, Char."

Charlie scowled at that. "What do you mean?" She said cautiously. She knew that Vaggie had come up to speed in a lot of the politics and drama about a lot of the upper echelons of Hell in such a short amount of time. So much more so than Charlie, and wasn't that embarrassing. She was the Princess of Hell and yet she was ignorant about a lot of the higher ranks and politics about actually ruling. It made her feel like her father, which that thought made her feel guilty, but it was true! For so long her mother had been the one running things. And she and her father had happily allowed it. Charlie hated that she learned so much about the inner workings of Hell from Vaggie, a fallen angel who had been in Hell for less than five years.

"It's the things that he's known for while he was alive. It's really not good."

Well that made sense why Vaggie would know about that. She was once human too. Of course she would be aware of the things that Vox did when he was alive. From what she knew he was pretty famous even in life. An actor, so she heard. A very prominent actor. And all of his notoriety wasn't just from his career but from his death. He killed himself. In jail.

She felt foolish now, never thinking to look into why exactly he was in jail. But then again when she had found that out it was years ago when she was quite young. She remembered the uproar that had been created upon Vox's arrival in Hell. A famous actor who killed himself and arrived in Hell and started creating waves almost as soon as he arrived. It had reminded Charlie vaguely of another Sinner who had arrived a couple decades earlier. Alastor, she realized. But she had forgotten both almost as soon as she heard of them. She was the Princess, her father and mother said; she didn't need to concern herself with lowly Sinners. And so she didn't. And she didn't think of either until within the past year. Her oversight about allowing herself to be so sheltered felt increasingly more and more glaring ever since she took up her endeavor of redeeming souls.

"What did he do, exactly?" she asked, hesitantly, worried about the answer.

"Let's just say, there's a reason why he and Valentino get along so well."

Charlie scrunched up her eyebrows in confusion, not liking the comparison. "What do you mean?"

Vaggie gave her a look, almost sad like she hated being the one to have to tell Charlie this. "Charlie-"

"No," said Charlie, interrupting. "You're always talking about how I need to be more cautious and not so trusting. If there's something terrible Vox has done I need to know. Tell me."

Vaggie looked weary, not fully believing that Charlie wanted to know, and truly, she didn't. But she needed to know. The comparison to Valentino made her nervous. She didn't know the Overlord well but from what she knew none of it was good. Charlie preached redemption for all Sinners but even Valentino made her almost second guess that goal. Perhaps part of it was due to her association with Angel Dust but could you blame her? From what the spider Demon told her, and what she briefly witnessed, it spoke to something far darker.

Vaggie nodded. "Alright. Alright. I'll tell you." She walked towards Charlie and grabbed her hand, looking at their clasped hands. "When he was alive, back in the fifties, there was this big scandal that broke out. A bunch of celebrities were involved in this human trafficking ring." Vaggie looked up. "Sexual slavery, specifically. Some of them were minors." Charlie felt stricken. "At the head of this ring was this big well known movie producer. Dude had his hands in more than half of all projects and actors in Hollywood. He practically ran things. And as such, no one ever spoke out against what he was doing. How could they when their career's and lavish lifestyles were in jeopardy if they did?" Vaggie scoffed, clearly disgusted by the man and her story. "Vox was one of the actors he helped rise to fame."

Charlie swallowed. She had figured as such but that didn't necessarily mean Vox had been involved. Unfortunately, Vaggie continued. "There was a lot of celebrities that knew about what this producer was doing but didn't necessarily get involved. They felt they owed too much to the producer. While shitty, at least they didn't rape a bunch of people." Charlie flinched slightly at the word 'rape' but she knew that's what it was. Those poor people had been raped, repeatedly. "Vox, however," Vaggie gave a cruel laugh. Charlie felt dread. "He was involved in that whole trafficking ring. Apparently he was one of the main organizers of the damn thing!" Charlie gasped, disbelieving such a statement. Vox? But - but he didn't seem the type! But wasn't that the kicker, so often those that didn't seem the 'type' actually were. Their ability to blend in is what allowed them to go unnoticed for so long and their crimes to prevail.

"It's true," said Vaggie. "This big sting operation was carried out by the FBI where they ended up finding out about what was going on and they got involved. They tried catching as many of the perverts as they could at this big party they were throwing with a bunch of victims. The FBI botched it, however, and a bunch of people died; victims, agents, and a bunch of actors along with the producer." Charlie felt horrified. Those poor victims. They were so close to freedom but instead tragically died after all that suffering. "Vox apparently wasn't at the party, though. The FBI rounded him up later. The coward ended up hanging himself in jail before he could ever stand trial."

So that's why he was in jail. Charlie didn't know if she felt better or worse knowing that fact. On one hand it was an awful story; it made her feel nauseous that someone that she felt was a great candidate for redemption could be capable of such cruelty. On the other hand, she now knew what sort of person he was. Vaggie was right to be cautious around Vox. Charlie felt guilty for ever doubting Vaggie and thinking her to be overreacting. Sure, Vaggie was cautious, but rightfully so.

But then again she thought about all her interactions with the man. Yes he wasn't always the most friendly, he was prone to lashing out in anger and yelling, but thus far he had been nothing but helpful to Charlie. He had saved Alastor's life, if only buying him time. But he had provided Charlie with the perfect opportunity to reestablish contact with Heaven, asking for nothing in return. Sure he had jumped at the opportunity to be part of negotiations with Heaven, but he only had been attempting to acquire an antidote for Alastor and a way to get Adam sent back to Heaven. Even when Adam had suggested that Vox was seeking a favor from the royal family Vox never once capitalized on that.

Not to mention Charlie's conversations with him when it was just the two of them. As she had already admitted to herself, she was aware he was a skilled manipulator, but the vulnerability she had seen in him, she couldn't believe that was fake. It seemed so genuine.

He was an actor, she reminded herself. A very good one, from her understanding. Despite the horrible things Vox had done in his life it seemed that there were many in Hell who still were avid fans due to his skill. But that only meant that maybe that vulnerability wasn't real.

Charlie was reeling, unsure of what to believe. Even if Vox had done all those things did it mean he wasn't capable of redemption? Capable of change? She wanted to say of course he was but the story Vaggie had told made her have second thoughts.

"Hey, hey, babe, easy now," said Vaggie, grabbing onto her and running her hand up and down on Charlie's back in a soothing manner. "I didn't mean to freak you out and make you start spiralling. I just...I wanted you to know the whole story. So you can be cautious. I know you believe in all Sinners and want to believe the best in them, which I love about you, but I want you just to be careful." She gave a small smile. "Besides, if anyone could actually redeem someone like him it would be you."

Charlie gave a small smile back, one that didn't reach her eyes but was sincere. "Thanks, Vaggie. That means a lot."

"Of course." She let go of Charlie before grabbing onto her hairbrush and running it through her hair. "Now I was thinking of making some huevos rancheros for breakfast this morning. Give you a good meal to prepare for you big day. How does that sound?"

Charlie smiled. "That sounds lovely." Anything to help her get through the day. The anxiety that was suspiciously gone this morning had suddenly decided to rear it's ugly head.
______________________________________________________________________________
Charlie sat anxiously in the embassy's lobby, sitting next to Vaggie and across from her father. Her conversation with Vaggie from that morning was still fresh in her mind and had derailed a lot of her earlier confidence. She was having second thoughts about Vox and working with him and it made her feel guilty. He was a Sinner, yes, she already knew that, but that didn't mean he wasn't worthy of redemption. Right?

Not a moment later, Charlie heard the sound of a vehicle pulling up outside, signaling Vox's arrival. She tensed slightly and internally told herself to relax. She kept thinking of all those innocent people who were sold, however, and she couldn't make herself relax. Vaggie noticed her tension and grabbed ahold of her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. Charlie looked at her girlfriend and gave a small smile in thanks. Vox soon strode through the doors and Charlie made herself take a deep breath.

Vox walked towards them and gave a bow towards Lucifer. "Your majesty. A pleasure to have your assistance today. Will you be attending the meeting or will you be leaving once the angels have arrived?" Vox's tone sounded casual but Charlie knew that Vox was holding in any sort of trepidation at having her father join them during a meeting with Heaven again.

Lucifer waved his hand in reassurance. "You needn't worry. I won't be there during the meeting. I'll just be opening up the portal before and after, is all."

Vox stood up and gave a nod towards Lucifer, choosing instead not to comment. He then turned towards Charlie and she tensed. Vox's eyebrows drew together slightly, indicating that the movement had not gone without his notice. "You alright, Princess?"

Charlie nodded her head frantically. "Yep! Perfect! Never better!" Even to her own ears her voice sounded too high pitched.

Vox stared at her for several seconds, searching her face. It made her feel uncomfortable having his scrutiny and she only hoped that any discomfort she had at being near him didn't show. He was her friend, she reminded herself. Well, a future possible friend she guessed was more accurate. After several seconds Vox seemed to come to some sort of conclusion from his examination of her because his expression softened.

"I hear your mother is back in town," he said softly. "Congratulations are in order. I'm sure you've missed her greatly." Charlie noticed her father stiffening now, causing Vox's eyes to shoot to the king briefly before returning to Charlie.

Charlie looked at Vox and saw sympathy in his eyes. No, she thought, it looked more like empathy. He didn't appear to just feel sorry for her but there was understanding there. Like he knew about the swirling mix of emotions inside of her that arose with her mothers return, emotions that she wasn't even fully aware of herself. "Yeah. Yeah we're thrilled!" she said with a wide smile but the crinkles at her eyes spoke to an inner turmoil.

"Did she tell you where she went?" he asked.

Charlie gave a desperate laugh. "Official royal business, of course!"

Vox gave a knowing nod. "So you don't know, do you?" He looked at Lucifer who turned away with a sad look, refusing to meet anyone's eyes. "I'm sorry," he said with a soft voice. "It can be hard when someone you care about up and leaves with no explanation before or after their absence. Lots of complicated emotions arise."

Vaggie scoffed. "Yeah? What do you know of it?"

Vox gave her an annoyed look. "More than you do."

And Charlie thought perhaps he did. Alastor had been missing for seven years too and no one knew where he had gone. All of Hell thought the two to be rivals but Charlie knew by now that the two cared for each other on some level. Or at least Vox did. She still wasn't so sure about Alastor and didn't that just make it worse. Here Vox was, literally right now trying to help Charlie with Heaven in order to save Alastor, when Alastor constantly made it clear he didn't like or want anything to do with Vox. Vox might say he didn't care for the other, he might try and put on a persona of a selfish Overlord but she knew better. That's right, she knew better.

Maybe Vox did do horrible things during his life, horrible things that condemned him to Hell. But she knew that already. That's what it was like for all Sinners but she believed that everyone deserved a second chance. And why should her knowing about specific sins that Vox committed during his life change anything? Vaggie said that Vox was a skilled actor and manipulator and she should be cautious around him. But the look in his eyes, the understanding she saw there, she believed it was sincere.

"Yeah," she said quietly. "Yeah. It's a lot." And didn't that feel good to say out loud. She had been keeping her complicated feelings inside, choosing to put on a cheerful outward persona in regard to her mother re-entering her life. But it felt too much. Especially with her mother being tight-lipped about where she had been and what she had been doing. It made her feel like her mother didn't trust her. Like she still thought of Charlie as a child.

"I get that," he said, looking at both Charlie and Lucifer. "I'm sorry that it is a lot and you're being kept in the dark. It's the lack of knowing that's truly awful. " He gave a weary look at them. "Which speaking of, any chance either of you know anything about this Overlord meeting she's scheduled?"

"Overlord meeting?" asked Lucifer, voicing Charlie's own thoughts.

"Yeah. The Vees received a letter the other day from her requesting us be present for a meeting with her two weeks from now. I already contacted some of the other Overlords and they all confirmed receiving one," said Vox.

Charlie shook her head. "We don't know about any Overlord meeting. Right dad?" She looked at her father who shook his head. "We don't typically interfere in Overlord affairs unless they start becoming too dangerous to the rest of Hell," said Lucifer. "The last time Lillith and I got involved was during the Black Plague in the fourteenth century. Too many people were dying and showing up here in droves. A lot of new Overlords started popping up who thought they could just do as they pleased without any consequences. Lillith and I put a stop to that."

Charlie vaguely remembered learning about that time in Hell. It was apparently quite the uproarious time which resulted in quite a few permanent deaths amongst Sinners and Hellborn alike. That's when the gates to the other rings were closed to Sinners, relegating them to only the Pride ring by order of her parents.

Vox looked nervous. "The Queen doesn't feel that the Pride ring is going down a similar path, does she?"

Lucifer crossed his arms in annoyance. "Well she shouldn't, now should she. It's not like she's been around to see what Hell has been turning into now has she?" he grumbled to himself but more than loud enough for others to hear.

Charlie wanted to disagree with her father but couldn't bring herself to do so. He was right. Her mother had been missing for almost a full decade so how would she know what the state of Hell was like? Besides, in Charlie's own personal opinion things had been changing for the better. They'd fought off Heaven during the latest impromptu extermination and redemption had been proven to be possible. Things were looking up!

But she still felt weary about the Overlord meeting that her mother had called without notifying her or her father of. What was she planning?

"Don't worry," she said, walking towards Vox. "I'll ask her about it." She placed a hand on his arm. "Everything will be just fine."

Vox didn't look convinced so Charlie squeezed his arm in reassurance. She wouldn't let anything bad happen to him and the other Overlords.

Suddenly, the clock above them rang out. "It's time," said Lucifer. Charlie gulped. She was suddenly nervous now and it was entirely about the meeting. Who was she kidding earlier in the day, telling herself that she wasn't nervous at all?

"Hey," said Vox, drawing her attention. "We got this."

Charlie smiled at him. That's right, bring on the angels!
______________________________________________________________________________
1910

Alastor absentmindedly was listening to Mr. Ainsley rant while he cut vegetables. Ever since he walked through the door that's all he'd heard, and it was starting to annoy him too. It was a cold late January day, and he had been promised a good meal from the older man but thus far he had been the one doing all the work. He wasn't even quite sure what the older man was complaining about.

"Are you listening to me, Alastor?" Mr. Ainsely said in annoyance.

"Mmm, of course," he drawled. Suddenly a swift smack cracked down on the back of his head with a wooden spoon. "Ow! What the Hell was that for??"

"Don't curse," Mr. Ainsley reprimanded. "And that was for not listening to your elder when he is talking to you."

“I'm TRYING to get dinner done, which you were supposed to make for me to take back home to my mother, but you won't stop talking to do anything! It's winter, it'll get dark soon!"

"Your mother will be fine to get her dinner a little late tonight. There are more important matters to discuss."

Alastor scowled. Easy for him to say with his big house and money and free soul. Alastor still had work to do for Her tonight that he would like to do before it got too late and too dark. He'd been given a new target that he needed to stalk and familiarize himself with his prey's movements if he wanted to end his life without incident. He was an influential man in the community; someone that would surely be missed. There was no room for mistakes, and he felt on edge.

"Alastor, are you listening!" shouted Mr. Ainsley. "I swear, it's as if you don't even care for our deal."

Right about now he was starting to think the same thing too. What was he getting out of this again? The company of an irksome older man who was wasting his time when he could be working for Mr. Dummer or Her or spending time with his mother. The food wasn't worth it and the radio was just a lackluster distraction that didn't hold up to his original interest.

"What could possibly be so important?" growled out Alastor.

Mr. Ainsley gave him an unimpressed look. "Well, if you would have been listening to me then you would know that already. But I see that your hearing problems have persisted all these months later so I must repeat myself. I said that the first public radio broadcast occurred the other week in New York City. By Lee de Forest of course, the bastard."

Wait, truly, thought Alastor. That DID catch his attention. Mr. Ainsley had gone on and on about wanting to be the first but from what Mr. Ainsley had told him about the breakthroughs in radio he seriously doubted he would be. Lee de Forest being the first certainly made sense. He had already made great improvements in the way of radio. No wonder Mr. Ainsley was so upset.

"Well, that's wonderful," said Alastor, purposefully being difficult.

"You are quite the irritating young man," drawled Mr. Ainsley.

Alastor's shadow silently agreed. Alastor ignored both of them. "I don't know what the big deal is. Shouldn't you be happy? Progress is being made and this means big things for radio."

"Of course it does! But I already knew that this was inevitably going to happen, and it should have been me!"

Alastor rolled his eyes and returned to his chopping. "Well, if this was so inevitable then is it really such a great loss that you weren't the first?"

Mr. Ainsley hummed and sat in silence for several moments, thinking that over. "I think you're right, Al. Quite a good point." Alastor didn't think so, but he stayed quiet and took the win. "No, what I should REALLY be setting my sights on is being the biggest entertainment channel."

"Uhhhh...what?"

"Again, with that deafness, good boy. You should get that checked out!" laughed Mr. Ainsley. "An entertainment channel. It'll be all the rage, I'm sure. We just have to work on being the biggest and most popular this side of the Mississippi."

Alastor huffed. "Yeah, good luck with that."

"Now, now, you'll of course be helping me with that. You should be wishing both of us good luck."

"Excuse me?" There was a sparkle in Mr. Ainsley's eyes, so he quickly added, "And don't say I'm deaf again! I know what you said, I just never agreed to anything like that."

"And why wouldn't you want to be?" he asked.

"Because I have a job! And a mother I have to help out!" And a Demon he owed his spare time and soul to, he didn't add. "I don't have time to help you with some pipe dream."

"And if I paid you?" Alastor paused. Mr. Ainsley looked at him with a knowing look and it grated on Alastor's nerves, the smugness of it all.

"I ain't got time for a second job."

"Who said anything about a second one? This will be your one and only. You'll quit Mr. Dummer's butcher shop, which I'm sure you'll be glad of."

Alastor scoffed. "Oh? And you'll pay me the same rate for the same hours as him? Yeah right."

"Double."

Alastor froze. "What?"

"I'll pay you double for the same hours you work for him. Perhaps it'll be more hours, perhaps less. But you'll come to my house every day, Monday through Friday, eight o-clock sharp, and work for me."

He shook his head in disbelief. "And do what? I don't know the first thing about trying to make some radio channel."

"I told you I'd teach you," Mr. Ainsley said with a raised eyebrow. "And besides it's not as if anyone particularly knows the first thing about creating a radio station. We'll be the biggest and the first. How does that sound?"

It sounded too good to be true. Working for some well-off black old man, no longer having to work for the likes of Mr. Dummer, and for twice the pay. Even if what Mr. Ainsley was hoping to accomplish wasn't feasible didn't mean he wouldn't get paid. But even if Mr. Ainsley was more well-off didn't mean he had the means to follow through with his new offer.

"Where even would you get that sort of money?" huffed Alastor. "Pay me double to help you with a doomed business venture? You really are a foolish old man."

"Foolish?" Mr. Ainsley barked out a laugh. "Oh, I never said I wasn't but that doesn't mean I'm not a skilled businessman. Where do you think I got this house? A black man with a nice house and his own staff? I know you've wondered about it yourself."

Alastor shrugged. "I assumed you had some rich daddy. A white one."

"Well, you're not wrong on that front," he laughed again. "Although rich isn't the right word. He had a decent enough amount of money, but nothing compared to what I have now. I built up my empire over the years and acquired quite the fortune. One that I can afford to pay an ungrateful young man twice what he's currently being paid for far less strenuous work that affords him far more opportunities down the line."

"What do you DO exactly?" asked Alastor.

Mr. Ainsley smiled at him, but it wasn't a pleasant one. It seemed almost predatory. Sinister. It reminded him of his shadow. "Let's just say I manage a diversified portfolio of enterprises." Alastor scrunched up his eyebrows in confusion. "I work in Storyville." Alastor's eyes widened in shock. He knew what that meant and he knew what sort of man Mr. Ainsley was. There was a time when he was younger, and he and his mother were particularly desperate that his mother had contemplated going to Storyville for business. In the end she decided against selling herself in one of the businesses there, something Alastor was immensely glad of, especially considering her past. Or at least, he assumed she never did. Alastor remembered all the times that Mr. Ainsley had brought up Alastor's mother, complementing her tastes he spoke of or calling her a smart woman. Did this man know her? He felt anger rise up within him.

"Oh! You don't approve, I see," said Mr. Ainsley, misinterpreting Alastor's anger. "Come now. No need for that righteous anger. You're not so innocent yourself."

Alastor swallowed thickly, feeling weary at such a statement. His shadow growled at the back of his mind. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I can see it when I look at you," he said, staring into Alastor's eyes. "There's a darkness in you. A deep hatred that is nigh impossible for you to shake. I understand. I feel it too."

'He's quite perceptive,' hissed his shadow. 'You must tread carefully around this one. You mustn't get too close.'

"It's ok to feel that way, Alastor," Mr. Ainsley said. "It's only natural. Especially for people like us." He walked towards Alastor, grabbing the knife from his hand that he had completely forgotten about and placed it on the counter. "But I won't ask you to do anything with my business there. My offer only will involve you with this radio business."

Alastor felt relieved at hearing that, uncomfortable with the mere thought of Storyville. He didn't want to deal with that sort of work, prostitution and gambling and the like. His work for Her was already a greater difficulty than he would like to deal with. "Why concern yourself with this radio," he asked. "I doubt it'll make you much money."

"Oh, I beg to differ. Perhaps at first it won't but I believe there is quite a bit of money to be made, just you wait." Mr. Ainsley's smile fell though, replaced with something softer, something more vulnerable. "But if I'm to be perfectly honest - I like the idea of making something worthwhile. Making something that everyone enjoys, not just the customers."

That was...not the answer he was expecting. He didn’t know what he was expecting, actually, in light of the reveal of how Mr. Ainsley gained his fortune. He was a pimp. It disgusted him. But he thought of the money he would provide him. Twice what he was getting paid now. He and his mother would be comfortable. More comfortable than they ever had been. And he wouldn’t have to work for Mr. Dummer any longer. While his work there had been useful, he had learned more than enough from that work.

“Triple my pay,” said Alastor causing Mr. Ainsely to laugh.

“Haggling again, I see!”

“And I want an official contract. One that says I’m your employee and specifying exactly what sort of work I’ll be doing for you. I don’t want any sort of ambiguity to go into this deal where you can take advantage of me,” he said with a hard look.

“Of course! Smart boy! Always make sure your contracts are airtight. We’ll make a businessman of you yet,” he said with a smile. Too-little-too-late, he thought. His shadow snickered inside his mind.
______________________________________________________________________________
Alastor sat in the lobby of the hotel, waiting anxiously for Charlie’s return. It had been over an hour since the meeting with Heaven was scheduled to occur and still there was no sign of her. Across from him sat Lilith, smirking at him as she knew the inner turmoil swirling inside of him.

This was his last chance. If Heaven didn’t provide Charlie with the antidote to the poison, then he had no other option available to him. He was growing weaker every day, his strength and health rapidly declining. If he didn’t get it directly from Heaven, then Lilith was his only other option for survival. The bitch.

It grated at his nerves knowing that he had to rely on her of all Sinners and that this was likely all part of the Mistresses plan. For decades he knew the Mistress was not in favor of Alastor’s association with Vox, believing him to be an unnecessary distraction. The Mistress has never liked Alastor’s distractions, believing they took away from his service. He thought of his mother briefly and his heart ached. His claws dug into the upholstery of the chair he sat in, and he saw Lilith’s smirk sharpen in amusement, only increasing his ire.

‘Calm yourself,’ whispered his shadow. ‘It will not serve you well to lash out.’

A low growl escaped his lips, drawing the attention of his thralls and the spider and his friend at the bar behind him. He could feel their unease, but they made no comment.

‘She had nothing to do with your mother’s demise,’ it hissed. ‘Nor did the Mistress. We’ve been over this.’

Yes, yes, they have been. Countless times. And yet the thought still always lingered at the back of his mind. ‘Stop it!’ growled his shadow. ‘What do you think you’ll do with this distrust? With this line of thinking? You know what will happen if you displease the Mistress again.’

The growl died in the back of Alastor’s throat at the threat. His skin itched at the thought of having to go back to the cold void. ‘Then cease this line of thinking and think up a way to kill your former friend should the Abomination fail.’

Yes, that’s what he had to do. He had to kill Vox if he wanted to survive. A shot of pain from his chest shot through his body causing him to groan. He truly didn’t have much time left.

The front doors to the hotel burst open, slamming into the walls beside it and startling everyone inside. They all turned to look and saw Charlie bursting forward with a smile. “You’ll never believe what happened at the meeting! It was incredible!” She spotted Angel Dust’s friend at the bar and Charlie bound towards her, grabbing her hands. “Cherri! I saw Sir Pentious! He was there! I got to see him in person!”

Cherri beamed at Charlie and a wetness gathered in the corner of her one large eye. “Really? Is he alright? How is he? Does he look alright? Don’t tell me he’s got wings or some shit?” She laughed and whipped at the corner of her eye.

“He does have wings! A pair of beautiful black ones! Oh Cherri, I wish you could have seen him!” She squealed.

The others at the bar looked thrilled, ecstatic. Vaggie joined them at the bar, beaming at them as well and sharing in the good joy. Alastor wished he could join in it but he couldn’t care less about the former snake Demon. He then noticed movement by the front door and noticed that there was another next to the King. Vox. And he was staring right at Alastor with a smile. He was struck by its intensity. Alastor hadn’t seen Vox smile like that at him in decades. No, he hadn’t seen Vox smile like that in decades, period. Alastor felt like he was unable to turn away from him.

But then Charlie broke the spell. “And Vox!” She bound over towards the TV-headed Demon, grabbing ahold of his arm. Vox broke his gaze and looked down at the Princess with a smile. “He was incredible! He truly worked his magic in there and sweet-talked Emily and Sera!”

“Well Emily, perhaps,” he said with a chuckle. “I seriously doubt I could get the old harpy to even agree with me if I said the sky was blue.”

“But the sky is red!” cried Niffty.

“He means the sky on Earth, Nift,” said Angel Dust.

Charlie lightly swatted at Vox’s chest, admonishing him for his comment but still smiling, indicating she wasn’t truly upset. “Oh, I think you did fine! Clearly you convinced her to some degree otherwise she wouldn’t have agreed to give us the antidote!”

Alastor froze. The antidote. They had it. His heart stuttered painfully.

Alastor looked at Vox’s face, who turned back to him. His face softened, looking almost sympathetic at Alastor, clearly understanding his disbelief. Vox then reached his hand inside his pocket and pulled out a small vial with a faintly glowing yellow liquid. He could barely believe it. They had actually done it. Alastor looked back up at Vox and the smile that would be forever plastered to his face actually felt genuine.

Vox began to walk towards him, extending his hand with the vial towards him when suddenly he tripped. As if in slow motion, Alastor watched Vox fall to the ground and the vial fly from his hand. The vial twirled in the air before finally crashing to the ground, shattering.

“NO!” cried Vox who crawled towards the broken vial, eyes wild and hands shaking. Everyone’s eyes were on the vial and the substance that was quickly seeping into the rug beneath it, but Alastor’s were stuck on the dark shadow that had escaped everyone’s notice, on the ground where Vox had seemingly tripped, slowly slithering across the floor. He watched as it returned to the armchair across from him, morphing into the shadow at its masters’ feet, a wicked smile appearing before it disappeared into a normal shadow. Lilith sat there with a cruel smile, staring back at Alastor, both of them ignoring the chaos in the room. The yelling was a distant buzz in the back of his mind, the only sound he could hear was his own stuttering heart and ragged breathing.

“Alastor. Alastor.” A hand came down on his shoulder, startling him back to reality, and his head whipped towards the other. Charlie was looking down at him with a concerned look. “It’s going to be ok. I’ll call Heaven and let them know what happened. They’ll give me a new antidote. I know it!”

He looked over at the others, some starting at him while others watched Vox still on the ground holding the biggest of the glass shards and attempting to scoop up some of the remaining liquid. There were a couple drops still clinging to it and he motioned to Husk to get him a glass. The feline returned with a clean one that Vox dropped the liquid into. He didn’t know what the man was thinking that would do. Surely it would not be enough. It was a pointless endeavor but…

Alastor looked at the desperate yet focused look on Vox’s face. He was determined to get as much of the antidote as he could into the glass. Vox ignored the pitying look Husk shot him as he watched Vox. It was a single-minded focus that Alastor knew the other was won’t to fall into. When he put his mind to something he committed to it with all his might. It was such an irksome, yet endearing quality of his. It got Vox, and Alastor, into so much trouble over the years. If only Vox didn’t have such intensity all the time, then maybe things would have been different. It made Alastor’s heart ache.

He got to his feet slowly, drawing everyone’s attention including Vox’s. He looked up at Alastor with such a pitiful expression Alastor had to look away. He saw regret and sorrow there. He was sure that Vox expected Alastor’s ire, and perhaps he would usually get it, even when Alastor knew it wasn’t actually the other’s fault. But right now, Alastor just felt numb. He turned and made his way towards the stairs.

“Alastor,” said Charlie. “Where are you going?”

“I am awfully tired, my dear. I think I’ll be off to bed,” he said with a flat voice.

“But wait! Hold on, we can fix this!” she cried, desperately grabbing at his arm.

He gently pulled his arm from her grasp and continued. “There’s nothing to be done. You did your best.”

“But, but-” Even the normally peppy Princess was at a loss for words, unable to muster any more of a foolishly optimistic platitude.

“Al,” came the broken croak of his name from his old friend. He didn’t turn around. “I’ll fix this. I promise.”

Ah, there it was. While expected, he was surprised it came from Vox. It did not matter, he was tired of false promises. There was nothing to be done.

‘Oh, but there is, child. You know exactly what you must do.’

Notes:

In 1909-1910:
Alastor is 19 years old

The last name Ainsley is of English and Scottish origin. It can mean "one" or "alone".

The last name Dummer is of German origin. It means "the foolish one" or "simple".

Historical facts relevant to this chapter:

First public radio broadcast was on January 13, 1910 conducted by Lee de Forest. It was of a live Metropolitan Opera House performance of Cavalleria Rusticana and Pagliacci broadcast across New York City. From my understanding Lee de Forest had also made other breakthroughs with radio. Again, I don't know much about radio. This is all stuff I just found from my brief Google research.

Storyville was the red-light district of New Orleans, Louisiana, from 1897 to 1917 where prostitution was tolerated and regulated. The area was originally referred to as "The District", but its nickname, "Storyville", soon caught on. It was located by a train station, making it a popular destination for travelers throughout the city, and became a centralized attraction in the heart of New Orleans. (This may have been added to the story due in large part to me bingeing the entire first season of the Interview with a Vampire TV series just the other day. I was influenced by the story of Louis. I thought it could be an interesting thing to explore having the man that introduced Alastor to the wonders of radio also being a pimp, especially with Valentino being such a prominent character in this story. We shall see how that influences this story moving forward.)

And welp...poor Alastor. And poor Vox being the one to drop the vial. I originally was going to have Charlie be the one to drop the vial and be tripped by her mother's shadow but I thought, nah, make it Vox. That'll make Vox feel shittier about himself and Alastor have even more conflicted emotions about the whole, "he's dying and his only hope is to kill Vox who also is to blame for his last hope of surviving shattering (literally) but actually its not his fault, its actually Lillith's and oh no, he looks so sad over fucking up".

And as always, stay tuned for next chapter!

Chapter 15: A New Friend and an Overlords Meeting

Summary:

It's 1929 and Xavier and Olivia have a new friend that they take out in celebration of their latest performance on Broadway when tragedy strikes.

In the present the Overlord meeting with the royal family occurs with an uninvited guest. A reunion of ex's is had.

Notes:

I'm back! Man, I gotta stop making these chapters so dang long but I suppose that makes up for the long updates between chapters.

Trigger Warning for this chapter: I don't think there's much TW for this chapter, canon typical discussion of violence, death, and threats maybe?

1929

Bright lights and red curtains. Thunderous applause and loud cheers. Melodic singing and a skilled orchestra. These are all the things that made up Xavier’s day to day and he loved it.

Initially he was worried that Broadway would have been overwhelming, but it was easy to get lost in the sensations of it. He enjoyed the performance; entertaining others, telling a story, singing and dancing, it was thrilling! For the first time in years, he felt some of the wonder he felt in that old attic, watching his siblings act out a story told through their radio underneath that fort of blankets and pillows they constructed. Only this time the fort was an actual stage with curtains and live music. The only thing that truly stayed the same was Olivia, ever by his side.

Mr. O’Shannon’s musical that Xavier and Olivia had first stared in was a huge hit. It made the two of them instant stars and soon enough they had several other musicals under their belt. They worked under other writers and composers, but they always came back to Mr. O’Shannon, never quite getting over that initial kindness he extended them at the behest of Miss Ruby. They owed so much to the two of them that neither sibling was likely to forget. And it seemed he was not likely to forget the huge draw that the sibling duo drew either, writing roles specifically for the two just to keep them on stage together, knowing that there were audience members that came to Mr. O’Shannon’s musicals just to see the two on stage together.

The Vox Siblings, they were called.

Of course, that wasn’t their actual last name, but it had a nice ring to it with their beautiful voices. Neither sibling had any love lost at their old last name that carried so many bad resentments from their upbringing. They were quick to shed their old names at the behest of Mr. O’Shannon and wanting to market something catchy.

“Vox,” Olivia had suggested, an old sentimentality reflecting in her eyes that Xavier recognized. “It means voice, doesn’t it Xavier?” Mr. O’Shannon liked the meaning behind it, if it was not a bit on the nose for two Broadway singers. But it was catchy and unique and Mr. O’Shannon ran with it. To the siblings they just loved the idea of being able to bring their brother on stage with them, if only in spirit. And to see the name Vox written on posters all through New York City, drawing the attention of so many, was a thrill. Victor would be proud.

“Mr. Vox! Curtain call is in two minutes!” cried a stagehand, signaling he was needed up front. Being called Mr. Vox was still jarring to him and it wasn’t just the unfamiliar name. He’d never been called mister before, not until he and Olivia had made names for themselves. It carried a certain level of respect that they so rarely had before.

Xavier made his way up front, standing just off stage as he watched Olivia, and the other leading lady finish their lines as the crowd began to clap and the curtains were closed. Olivia and the other exited the stage, both bounding to Xavier and hugging him one after the other with matching grins. He returned their embraces, getting lost in the excitement as the ensemble cast took stage and the curtains were drawn. The crowd cheered and stood in appreciations of the actors as the ensemble cast bowed together. Applause continued as those with featured roles took stage and bowed as well. With a hand from each of the leading ladies in each of his own, Xavier followed Olivia onto the stage, and he reveled in the sounds of increased applause as the three leads bowed together. Whistles joined the mix and after several more bows they indicated towards the orchestra and the conductor took his bow as well.

Once done the curtains were drawn once more and the entire cast began hugging and congratulating each other on another performance well done. Olivia bumped against him as she clutched onto their stage partner, smiling widely. “You did it! You’re first leading role! Grace Landry lady’s and gentleman!” The last part was said louder, drawing the attention of their castmates who all cheered and clapped for her. Grace gave an embarrassed wave but was beaming all the same.

“Was it everything you dreamed of?” asked Olivia as everyone continued about.

“Yes! Yes! It was incredible! I thought for a second there that I was going to forget all my lines during the first act but thankfully Xavier was able to cover my slip,” she said with her southern accent, way more defined than it had ever been for the siblings. The little bit of an accent they had they had trained out of themselves once they moved to the big city, wanting to fit in as much as possible.

“The first time on stage like that is always a bit daunting,” he said. “I knew you would get the swing of things soon enough.” He smiled at their friend, throwing his arm around her shoulders and giving a comforting squeeze. She looked down in embarrassment, but her smile never once left her face.

“Grace, you positively must come out with us tonight to celebrate!” said Olivia in enthusiasm. “It’ll be our treat.”

“Oh no, you don’t have to do that,” Grace said sheepishly. “You two are also the leads. This is as much your celebrations as it is mine.”

“Yes, but we’ve done loads of these by now,” said Olivia. She gave a beseeching look towards Grace. “Please! We’ve been begging for you to come out with us for ages now! You’ve been a part of enough of these, but you never come out with any of us at the end of a performance. You HAVE to come out tonight though. You’re one of the leads!”

Grace looked weary despite the good cheer surrounding them. No matter how many times they had begged her to go out with them they could never get the other woman to agree. Dinner and to see a silent movie were one thing but she never once agreed to participate in the less than legal acts that the Ruby Red dealt in. While this wouldn’t be out of the norm for others, the fact that the siblings both knew that Grace was no stranger to speakeasys from where she was from, was. Through their association with their friend, they discovered that she had a similar start in performing that they had in that she once performed at a speakeasy. And yet, she always turned down going with them.

Xavier felt his face soften, knowing how headstrong his sister could be and her tendencies to constantly push at something. He had discussed with his sister before that Grace may have legitimate reasons for being weary about speakeasies, after all not every owner was as benevolent as Miss Ruby. He had told Olivia to stop pushing Grace so much, but his warnings only went so far. Olivia seemed to realize her error because her eyes widened slightly, and her excitement dwindled by a margin. “I mean, not that you have to if you don’t want to, of course. We could always find other ways to celebrate!”

She opened her mouth to continue, possibly suggesting other ways for them to celebrate their success but Grace cut her off. “No,” she said forcefully, perhaps more than she intended if the clearing of her throat was any indication. “No. That sounds lovely. I’d love to go with you two.” She then smiled at them which was more subdued than her earlier one but no less sincere.

“You sure?” asked Xavier, squeezing her shoulders once more in reassurance.

Grace than looked up at him, smiled and patted his chest fondly. “Yes. I’m sure.”

Olivia positively squealed at that, unable to contain her excitement. She grabbed ahold of Grace’s hand and drug her away, weaving through the crowd of cast members. Grace looked back at him as she laughed at his sisters’ antics. Xavier shook his head in exasperation when the two ran from his view. He made his way towards his own changing room at a more leisurely pace, stopping to converse and congratulate other cast mates on his way. He took his time, knowing that despite Olivia’s excitement he’d be done far sooner than her. Besides, he couldn’t help an underlying flutter in his stomach in anticipation at making another trip to their former place of business and wanting to make himself look his best.

Despite neither having worked there for a little over three years, the Ruby Red was a frequent haunt of theirs. Miss Ruby always welcomed them with open arms, parading the two around like a dotting aunt. She always made sure to show them off to any high and influential spenders, making sure to tell any who listened that it was her that had truly discovered their talent and helped them rise to fame. The siblings never minded shmoozing for her, grateful for all she had done for them in addition to the free drinks she gave them. Any alcohol she lost on the two was more than made up for by the hefty tips and donations provided by her wealthier clients the two charmed. Miss Ruby always made sure to comment on how far they had come, especially Xavier who once was a shy and stuttering impoverished teen but had blossomed into a charming and handsome performer.

While Xavier enjoyed Miss Ruby’s, albeit domineering, but friendly self, the real excitement he got was from seeing her righthand man. There was that fluttering again. He would have thought that after all these years he wouldn’t still get so flustered over the mere thought of the older man and yet…

Perhaps his nerves were due in part because every time he saw Izzy it was the same song-and-dance, over-and-over. “Just for tonight,” he’d say. “This’ll be the last time,” he’d bemoan. “Oh, the things you do to me, Xavier,” was the last thing he had said. And oh, how that made pride shoot through him. He was wearing the older man down, he knew. Each time he saw him there was less resistance from the get-go, less meaningless words of not falling for Xavier’s “beautiful pools of blue” and “perfectly dimpled smile”, his words not Xavier’s. Soon enough Izzy would stop acting as if he gave a damn about corrupting Xavier beyond repair. If the things that Izzy was doing were truly corrupting him than he didn’t give a damn either.

Soon enough he had gotten dressed in his normal clothes and made his way to Olivia’s room, knowing that Grace would be inside, getting ready as well, the two feeding off the others joy. Xavier smiled to himself when he heard laughter from inside, confirming his suspicions.

In truth he was excited to take Grace with them to see one of their favorite places in all of the city. Ever since they had met the young woman on Broadway the year prior, they had instantly taken a liking to her, becoming fast friends. There was a certain level of kinship they felt with her, sympathizing with her reluctance to speak of her family and past. They discovered that Grace had similarly ran from her hometown, leaving behind her family and arriving in New York City hoping for something more. She didn’t often speak of her family but from the melancholy that frequently surrounded her they imagined it was a less than savory life she left behind. The only thing they really knew of her past was she had been married and widowed quite young and she was from New Orleans. Xavier and Olivia both had to frequently restrain themselves from speaking to her about their childhood idol, knowing the other hated even mentioning the city she grew up in.

The door to Olivia’s dressing room burst open, startling him slightly from his musings. Both women came to an abrupt stop at noticing him, beaming at him. “You ready?” asked Olivia.

“Of course. I’ve only been waiting for you for ages, like usual.” In truth it had only been a couple of minutes, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. Olivia rolled her eyes, knowing anyways that he was being less than truthful, shoving at him in annoyance. Grace laughed at the two’s antics, always finding amusement at the childishness the two devolved into while together, which was of course often.

The two continued to shove at each other before Grace cut in. “Now, now, children. You two behave.”

“Yes mom,” they said in unison earning them an eye roll from Grace.

“Impossible. The two of you,” she said in mock exasperation. “If you could both stop goofing off, I believe you promised to be taking me to a most refined establishment.”

Xavier snorted at the word “refined” but made no further comment, instead offering the crook of his elbows to both ladies. “Why of course, my good lady. Right this way.”

Both women grabbed onto his arms, and he led them out and into the cool night air of the city. He caught a taxi and the three piled into the back as they drove across town. Xavier paid the driver once they arrived at their destination and then they made their way down an alleyway. They looked around, ensuring no one was nearby before Xavier knocked three times on a door. A man peaked through a hatch he slid back. Xavier recognized the eyes of Patrick, the Ruby Red’s doorman, who recognized them in turn. “Xavier! Olivia!” The sounds of the door being unlocked could be heard, the other not waiting for a password. They all piled inside quickly, and Xavier felt a pat on his back from Patrick. “Long time no see, you two. What you been up to?”

“Oh, the usual, Pat. Just singing and dancing the night away,” said Olivia, jovially.

“Just like old times, eh?” said Patrick. “Bet you get paid more doin’ it on the big stage though. But I doubt you have as much fun as you did here!”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” said Xavier. “We have plenty fun don’t we, Olivia?”

“And yet you two keep comin’ back here for more, eh?” said Patrick with a smirk.

“What can we say, we miss your big loveable face,” Olivia said who then kissed the doorman on the cheek.

Patrick preened under the attention, grabbing onto Olivia who swatted him away playful. “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure Miss Ruby’s free alcohol has nothing to do with it. Which hate to break it to ya, but you’re going to have to go without tonight. Haven’t seen the boss the past couple of days, some sort of business she’s attending to apparently. And you know Roger, he ain’t going to give you free drinks if she ain’t here.”

Olivia groaned at the news, but Xavier’s interest had been peaked. “Oh? What sort of business?”

“Like I’d be tellin’ you that,” scoffed Patrick. “You two don’t work here no more. You aren’t part of the business.”

“You don’t know, do you?” deadpanned Olivia.

“Not a thing,” he shrugged.

“Figures,” she said with a huff.

“Who’s all out helping her with this business?” Xavier asked, attempting to feign nonchalance. Olivia gave him a sly smirk, knowing what he was truly getting after. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one for Patrick laughed at him.

“Come now, you’re not REALLY going to go and introduce this lovely young lady to Izzy, are you?” Patrick finally drew everyone’s attention towards Grace who smiled sheepishly at him at having been unexpectedly addressed while the conversation had otherwise gone by without her. “The man may be greying but there ain’t a woman out there who doesn’t fall down at his stoic feet. Lord knows why! But wouldn’t you want to keep her as far away from him as possible? I know I would if I had a beautiful lady such as her hanging off my arm.” Patrick winked at Grace who gave a timid smile and minutely grabbed onto Xavier’s arm tighter. He squeezed her hand between his arm and side in reassurance.

“Down boy!” shouted Olivia, smacking him and coming to her friend’s defense. “You stay away from our friend. We don’t want your grubby hands anywhere near her!”

“Grubby?” he cried in mock offense. “Just a minute ago you said you were coming all the way here just to see little ol’ me!”

“I lied!” Olivia laughed. “Besides, Xavier has more than his fair share of women crawling at his feet. Look at him! Who could resist this face?” She said as she squeezed his cheeks, and he pushed her away in annoyance. “Plus, he’s a star at this point. And he’s got the voice of an angel, or so the papers say. I don’t think he would have any troubles keeping a woman by his side!”

While Xavier appreciated what Olivia was trying to do it made him uncomfortable. He knew that encouraging talk of how many female fans he had swooning over him was a good idea, especially since it was true, it still made him uncomfortable with that sort of attention. Xavier noticed Grace shift from foot-to-foot next to him and looking down and away. It seemed the mere implication of Grace being one of those types of women made her uncomfortable too.

Patrick barked out a laugh. “Yeah right, I’m sure Xavier will be able to keep a woman by his side once he stops lookin’ like he’s still prepubescent. Maybe once he grows a little stubble, baby face.” Patrick also squeezed one of Xavier’s cheeks, laughing at the annoyed swat at his hand.

“Yeah, yeah. Will you two knock it off,” he grumbled practically petulantly, not helping with the implications of his youthfulness. “Is Izzy here or not?”

“Nah. He’s with Miss Ruby. Where else would he be when she’s away on business?”

Xavier’s heart fell, expecting the answer but still upset that he wouldn’t be able to see the other man. He looked to his side at Grace. While Izzy being gone was a disappointment, he did come here to celebrate his friends first leading role on Broadway. He and Olivia would be able to have more than enough fun with her.

The sibling’s said their goodbyes to Patrick, making their way further into the speakeasy and towards the loud music. Once they entered the wider part of the establishment, Grace looked around in wonder. “This is nothing like back home.”

Olivia chuckled. “Yeah, the Ruby Red is pretty successful, even after Miss Ruby’s husband had died. She had enough loyal employees that stuck around that despite everything, this place has been going strong for some time.”

“No kiddin’,” said Grace. “This place is really booming. Not that the Alligator Club back home was unsuccessful, it’s just this place is something else.”

“Oh?” Xavier asked, looking at their companion. That was the first they had heard any mention of the actual name of the speakeasy Grace had worked at. He didn’t know if she realized she had said it or if she truly was starting to feel comfortable enough around the siblings, she was willing to share more.

“Yeah,” she nodded, absentmindedly as she looked around. “I mean the size of this place alone is impressive. Not to mention the number of people here and the music. It’s all so much! There was really only me and a couple others who performed at the club. But this place, it’s incredible!”

“It didn’t always used to be like this,” said Olivia with pride. “Not to sound immodest but Xavier and I really brought the entertainment here to the next level!”

“I have no doubt!” said Grace. “And here I thought I had done the same at the club. My brother always said so at least.”

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” said Olivia, looking at Grace, clearly curious at another similarity between them.

Grace looked at the two with wide eyes. She then quickly looked away. “Yeah. He and I – aren’t close.” Her eyebrows furrowed. “At least not anymore.”

Olivia and Xavier shot each other a look, both feeling for their friend but not wanting to make matters worse. They had come there for a good time and by God they would. In silent agreement Olivia turned to Grace and grabbed her arm, pulling her away from Xavier and looping her own arm with the woman. “Brothers, what can I say, they’re idiots!” Xavier gave a noise of indignation, but she ignored him. “But never mind them, let’s celebrate! Come on, I want you to meet everyone.”

The three of them made their way to the bar and ordered their drinks. Sure enough, the barkeep, Roger, refused to give them any free drinks in the absence of Miss Ruby. It was no bother, however, they had plenty of money between the two of them to pay for themselves and Grace. They wouldn't let the other pay for anything, despite her protests. Soon enough Olivia dragged them to the dance floor. It didn't matter how much dancing they did for work; his sister would never get tired of dancing.

They danced together, the three of them, weaving through the crowd and putting on quite the show. A couple people even recognized Xavier and Olivia, some of which Miss Ruby had introduced them to in the past. Olivia ate it up, laughing and dancing with anyone who asked, reveling in being the center of attention. Xavier was more than happy to leave Olivia to it, sneaking away to a back table with a beaming Grace. The two sat down, catching their breaths, as Xavier asked one of the servers for two more drinks.

"That was wonderful!" Grace said through heaving breaths. "I almost forgot what it was like to dance like that at a place like this."

Xavier nodded. "It's a bit different than while on Broadway, isn't it? Don't get me wrong, I love it! It's just being able to dance for fun like that, unconcerned about missing a step and just letting loose, it's different."

"Yeah. It is," said Grace, staring out at Olivia. They watched her for a couple moments, watching her getting lost in her element. "I used to dance like this. With my brother." Xavier turned to her and saw a sad smile on her face. "I miss him. Despite everything, I actually miss him."

Silence fell between the two of them, the only sounds being the loud music and crowd bustling around them. Yet a calm seemed to have fallen around them, an understanding. Tonight was the most open Grace had ever been about her past. Xavier felt that maybe he should offer her something of himself in return. "We used to have a brother," Grace turned to him with wide eyes. "He was the eldest. He was - everything to us." Xavier gave a sad smiled. "He's actually the one we owe the name 'Vox' to. It was our initials, you see. 'V' for Victor. 'O' for Olivia. 'X' for Xavier. He thought he was so clever coming up with the name. Said we were going to go into radio, you see."

Grace blinked in surprise. "Radio?" she said with a slight waver.

"Yeah," he smiled. "There was this old radio show we used to love listening to, probably still going on. We just can't exactly listen to it all the way up here in New York, so I have no idea. But man, we loved it. Had grand dreams of going into radio together."

"Why radio?" she asked as their drinks came, nodding their thanks to the server.

He shrugged. "We liked the stories that were told. The songs. The entertainment of it all. But Victor always said Olivia was meant for the stage too so it's not like we had our hearts set on radio, specifically. I think we all just wanted to get away from our parents and make it big."

"Looks like you made it then." Grace smiled and laid her hand on top of his, squeezing it. He squeezed back. "Yeah, I guess we did," he said.

"What happened to him? Your brother," asked Grace. At the pained look on his face, she frowned. "You don't have to talk about him if you don't want to. I didn't mean to pry."

"No, no," he shook his head, trying to reassure her that she hadn't overstepped. "I brought him up. It's just still hard, after all these years." He sighed and looked down at the table, tracing the patterns of the wood with his free hand. He then grabbed his drink and took a large sip. "He uh... he ended up dying during the Great War. He was eighteen."

"I'm sorry," Grace said softly. He looked up at her and gave a weak smile. "Thanks," he said.

"I guess the name Vox is your way of keeping him with you," she said.

He nodded. "That was our thinking. We wanted him to be up there with us, even if only in spirit. Not that normally he doesn't feel like he's always with us. Or at the very least, he's never far from our minds. We were just kids when he died but we never can stop thinking about him it seems." Xavier tipped his head to the side in thought, his eyebrows coming together. "I just realized that as of this year, the last time I saw him was twelve years ago. I was twelve when he left. He's been gone just as long as I knew him."

God had it really been that long? He hadn't realized. It seemed like only yesterday when he and his siblings were huddled together in that attic, blocking out the rest of the world except for each other and their radio.

"It's incredible the sort of impact people can have on us when they're only in it for a short time," said Grace, drawing Xavier out of his head. He blinked a couple times to banish the stinging he felt there. "I uh - didn't know my brother while growing up. Different ma's, you see. But I got to know him really well once I got older. He was my rock, for a time. Especially after my husband died." It was her turn to look down at the table in thought. Neither one let go of the other's hand, however, gaining support and comfort from the contact. "But I eventually realized what sort of man he was and...it scared me. I couldn't be around him anymore."

Xavier furrowed his eyebrows in concern. "Did he hurt you?" he asked tentatively.

"No," she shook her head. "It wasn't like that. He didn't hurt me...at least not physically. He hurt me in other ways."

"How so?"

Grace sighed. "He had a very specific way of thinking how the world should be. How to keep me safe. I didn't agree with it." She scowled. "No, I hated it. And I hated him for it. I couldn't stand it, and I couldn't stand him." She scoffed. "So, I ran away, I guess. I left behind the rest of my family too without much of a word.”

“Must have been pretty bad if it caused you to run away all the way to New York,” said Xavier, rubbing the back of Grace’s hand. It wasn’t a question, but he left it open for Grace to tell him more if she felt comfortable.

“It was unforgivable,” she said, barely above a whisper but with conviction. She then took a large sip from her drink. She stared down into it, watching the ice and alcohol swirl around together. Xavier didn’t know what to say, not knowing the details of the story and not wanting to press either. He simply stared at Grace as she sat there in her troubled thoughts and watched as her face slowly morphed from anger to a sort of resignation. She looked unbelievably sad.

“And yet,” she finally said. “I still miss him.”

Whatever Grace’s brother had done had truly affected her. He had no doubt that her normally closed off and reserved self was due in large part to his actions. Having someone you care for betray you in such a way is more damaging than anything.

“Can I tell you a secret?” asked Xavier, drawing Grace’s attention. “Something that I haven’t even told Olivia.” She looked into his eyes and nodded.

“Our father,” he started, taking a breath to steady himself. “He was physically abusive. A drunk.” Xavier tipped his glass into the air with a smirk. “Usually, it was me that he targeted but that didn’t make everyone else exempt. Especially after Victor died.” Grace began to rub soothing circles into the back of his hand. “Our mother never once did anything to get him to stop. She might have been scared of him too, I don’t know, but she often had this unconcerned look on her face whenever he started going at it with me. Like she didn’t even care. I don’t know, that might have hurt more than the actual beatings from my dad because at least he felt something. She was so…hollow. And she got worse too once Victor died.”

He finished his drink, bringing the glass down with a clang. He wanted another drink, but the thought of his father made him reluctant to indulge further. Grace didn’t say anything, waiting for him to continue at his own pace, or stop entirely if he so chose. He appreciated it, the lack of pressure or expectation. Just the calming presence that they were both content to exist in.

“They were the reason why we left home. We had to get away because we couldn’t stand it any longer. And we’re better without them too. Our life here, even before Broadway, God it was so much better.” He looked around the Ruby Red, watching the cheer and the joy on everyone’s faces. This place had become somewhat of a home for them. He was happy for his lot in life now but working here, it did so much for them. “And yet…despite it all, I can’t help but miss them.” He shook his head in disbelief at his own words. “It makes no sense, I know, it’s not like there’s really any truly happy moments with them, maybe a couple when I was really young, but the large majority of any happy memories I have were with my siblings and that’s it. But I can’t help but be homesick occasionally. Not that I’d ever go back, God no. Just – I miss them. And I hate myself a little bit for that.”

Silence befell them again as they both mulled that over. Olivia was still dancing with others. She had dragged a couple of their old friends and coworkers out with her. He wouldn’t be surprised if she was drug onto the stage to sing alongside the performers there.

“I think you’re mourning the relationship you wish you had more than your parents themselves,” said Grace.

He shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe. Probably. Doesn’t change that I miss them every once in a while. They’re my parents. It’s hard to just discount that despite everything.” He looked at Grace. “My point is, I don’t know what your brother did and I’m not saying that you should forgive him or anything, I don’t even know exactly what he did, and I don’t need to know, he hurt you and that’s enough of a reason for you to tell him to fuck off the way I see it.” Grace looked at him in shock at the profanity, not used to him saying such things. “But from the sounds of things you at least had a good relationship with him at one point and have good, happy memories of him.” Even though it wasn’t a question Grace found herself nodding. “It’s only natural you’ll be missing him. God knows I miss mine.”

He could see tears gathering in Graces eyes, but none fell. The prickling in his eyes returned that he stubbornly refused to let fall either. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “Yeah.”

They fell into silence again until. “Hey Xavier?”

“Hhm?”

“Thanks,” she said. “For everything. You and Olivia both. You two have done a lot in way of making me feel at home here. Like I’m not alone.”

He smiled. “Of course.”

The two were then startled out of their moment, the world returning to them by Olivia’s arrival who plopped herself down into a chair next to them, heavily. “Oh boy do I need a break!” She panted, whipping at her forehead. “Where were you two? You abandoned me!”

Xavier laughed. “You looked like you were doing just fine on your own.”

“Yes, because I’m celebrating!” she whined. “You two are just lazing about.”

“We were drinking,” he said, raising his empty glass as way of showing her.

“No more drinking!” she cried, pushing at Xavier’s shoulder. “Go on! Show Grace a good time!”

“I am having a good time!” said Grace with a smile but she allowed herself to be pulled to her feet.

“No! No! I saw long face! Time for dancing! Go!” shouted Olivia. “I’ll be right behind you two.”

While Xavier was happy for having talked with Grace, getting to know more about her and her past, and also getting to speak candidly with someone besides just his sister, he was glad for Olivia’s interruption. She was right, tonight was a night for celebration. He grabbed Grace’s hand and pulled her along, the two falling into a fast-paced swing. Olivia soon joined them, and they danced together, switching partners and taking on new ones, all losing themselves to the fun.

One song turned into the next and eventually one fell into a slower tempo, not as upbeat and lively as the others but still popping all the same. Xavier and Grace fell together, laughing and clutching onto each other to prevent themselves from falling. Xavier smiled down at Grace and she looked back up at him, positively glowing. Xavier was happy she had decided to come out with them. Even though he was disappointed in not seeing Izzy he had still had a great time with his friend. He didn’t have many close friends he had made over the years, and he was glad to have met Grace. He knew Olivia felt the same way.

Grace’s face softened and Xavier realized that the two had been staring at each other for a long moment, neither of them saying anything. Just as Xavier was about to pull back, something gleamed in Grace's eyes, and she surged forward. Suddenly their lips connected, and Xavier froze in surprise. It was only a moment before he got his wits about him, and he reared back. Grace looked up at him in confusion at him breaking the kiss.

“I-I-I-” he stuttered out, his tongue frustratingly not cooperating. “I’m s-s-sorry. I can’t.”

“What?” she asked, her face twisting into something pained at the rejection. Xavier’s heart ached at seeing her look like that, at being the one to hurt her.

Patrick’s comments earlier, his intimate conversation with Grace, their close dancing; it all came back to him and how it all may have seemed. Not just that but their friendship over the past year, their close contact on and off the stage, getting closer together due to their characters having a relationship together in their latest production. He knew that others had speculated about their relationship, but not once did he ever think Grace actually felt anything for him besides friendship. She had always seemed so closed off, still mourning her dead husband. God what an idiot. Just because she didn’t fawn over him like other women didn’t mean she didn’t have feelings for him.

Xavier felt frozen, panicked, as he began to worry about how this would affect their friendship. He didn’t want to lose her but the pained look she wore said that he may already have.

“I-i-it’s not you. It’s just-” He cut himself off, knowing how that sounded. But it really was just him but how could he explain that further? He couldn’t tell her the truth.

Out of the corner of his eyes Xavier noticed a commotion off at the back of the room. Miss Ruby was striding with purpose into the back, her face wild and some employees following her, looking equally out of sorts. Izzy, he thought. Izzy was back. He needed Izzy.

He turned back to Grace who was looking at him with sad eyes. She began to pull from him, drawing away in shame. He grabbed onto her shoulders, however, stopping her from pulling from him entirely. “Grace,” he said desperately. “I-I-I’m sorry. R-r-really I am. Please, you’re me friend. I care for you! Truly, I do! I-I-”

Olivia came to them, grabbing onto Grace with a concerned look. “Grace? What’s wrong?” She looked at Xavier when Grace just shook her head. “Xavier?”

He looked to the back again, seeing Thomas and Sebastian, Izzy’s two men, guns in arms with hard looks. Sebastian was giving instructions to some other employees who looked startled at whatever was being said. Some customers close by were moving away with worried looks, unsure of the gun-toting men. Something was happening. Where was Izzy?

“Xavier?!” cried Olivia. He turned back to her and saw she had seen the same thing. He looked at Grace, feeling a pang, but he couldn’t stay.

“I have to go,” he said before he rushed off, making his way towards the back.

“Xavier, wait!” shouted Olivia but he ignored her.

Xavier pushed his way through the crowd, earning himself several disgruntled looks and curses but he kept on. He made his way to Sebastian who noticed his approach seconds before he reached him. “Xavier! What-?”

This close, Xavier noticed some blood on his sleeve. “Izzy. Where i-is he?”

Sebastian wore a similar pained expression that Grace had just had, making Xavier’s heart plummet. He looked past Sebastian, down the hallway that he knew contained Izzy’s office. “Xavier, I can’t deal with you right now. I’m sorry but Ruby will have to talk with you late – no, wait! Xavier!”

He didn’t wait to hear more, shoving past Sebastian and Thomas, running down the hallway. Something was wrong, he thought. Something was seriously wrong. He pushed past other employees, some shouting after him while others just jumped out of his way. He made his way to Izzy’s office, pushing through to the familiar room. He looked around, not seeing the rooms owner as he panted.

Sebastian and Thomas pushed into the room a moment after, having followed him. “Xavier. Enough. You can’t be back here right now and I ain’t got time for this. There’s too much shit-!”

He was cut off by the soft but firm voice behind him, silencing the commotion immediately. “Sebastian,” said Miss Ruby. “It’s alright. It’s just Xavier. There’s no need for any of that.”

Xavier turned to her in gratitude but paused. Her normally pristine hair and dress were rumpled. She looked distressed and it made his stomach turn. “Why don’t you sit?”

He shook his head. “I don’t need to sit. I just want to know w-what’s going on.”

“I think you should sit,” she said in a tone of voice that offered no room for argument. Reluctantly he sat on the couch, the same one that he and Izzy had fallen into that first time and had on so many other occasions.

“Sebastian, Thomas, why don’t you go ahead and give us the room.” They looked at her reluctantly, but she nodded towards the door. “Go on. Do as I say.” The two exited the room, closing the door as they left. Miss Ruby took a seat next to Xavier, taking his hand in both of hers. It felt comforting just like Grace’s had earlier. It only made him more nervous.

“Where’s Izzy?” he asked.

“You know,” she said after a moment. “I’ve known Izzy for quite some time. He was my husband’s best friend, you know. Fought in the Great War together. I remember Arthur bringing him home, saying he had saved his life on more than one occasion and that the least he could do was give him a job. The three of us ran this business together, no problems, for only a couple of years before the prohibition started. We thought we were going to have to shut down, but Izzy had a suggestion.” She was rubbing circles into his hand while Xavier watched on in worry. “Said we didn’t have to close down; we’d just have to go underground in a sense. We didn’t know the first thing about running some illegal bootlegging business, but Izzy had had dealings before the war in similar things. Gangster business. Said that he knew what he was doing and that everything would turn out alright.”

She sighed. “We believed him.” She looked at the picture on the wall of the Ruby Red from years ago. “And then Arthur died. Shot by our competitor. Seamus Hall.” Xaver recognized the name. He was the owner of the Blue Diamond, another establishment that had opened up after the Ruby Red. Named, no doubt, due to the theme of the Ruby Red and meant to present itself as bigger and better but it had never quite managed to accomplish it. He could have sworn he had heard something about him in the paper recently.

“I was torn up by his death afterwards, barely could keep myself together. I blamed Izzy in part due to Arthur’s death. Said he was the one that got us into this business and the one who was supposed to be watching his back. I…I don’t think I ever truly got over that mindset unfortunately. And Izzy knew that.”

She looked to Xavier, and he could see tears in her eyes. “I know he always blamed himself and he was constantly trying to make it up to me. But how can you make the death of one’s husband better?” She shook her head. “I didn’t know what he had been planning. He was always so quiet and reserved. That was due in part to Arthur’s death but even before that he always kept things close to the chest. I only wish he had told me because I would have been able to tell him it wasn’t worth it.”

“W-what did he do?” he asked tentatively.

“He went after Seamus and his crew and killed them all.”

That’s why he had heard Seamus’s name in the papers. He’d been killed. But that was days ago, hadn’t it been? “Where’s Izzy?” He asked again.

“Xavier, honey,” she said softly and with a slight quiver to her voice. “I’m so sorry. But he’s gone.”

Gone, she said. He knew what she meant though. He wasn’t just gone.

She kept talking about how some of Seamus’s remaining men had caught Izzy before he could escape, took him out of the city and tortured him. She’d received a letter from Seamus’s men, telling her where to find what remained of him. Birds, she said. They had gotten to his corpse, making him nearly unrecognizable.

Izzy hated birds, he thought. Told him a story once as they lay wrapped around each other naked underneath a blanket about how he was attacked by a bird when he was a kid. His cousin had dumped crumbs in his hair as a prank. He was terrified of them to this day. It had made Xavier laugh at the time, the thought of such so ridiculous thing scaring the fearless gangster. Izzy would have hated to be pecked at by birds.

Miss Ruby was still talking but he couldn’t hear her voice. It was drowned out by the ringing in his ears. “I want to see him,” he said abruptly, cutting her off.

“Honey. You really don’t. You don’t want to see him like that,” she said sympathetically.

“I need to see him,” he said, giving her a pleading look.

“Xavier-”

He cut her off and said, “Ppplease. Please. I-I-I need to. I need to see h-h-h-him-” He broke off as a sob tore from his throat. The tears he felt prickling at his eyes earlier had returned, this time finally falling. “Please, Miss Ruby.”

“Oh baby, come here.” She pulled his head to her shoulder, encircling him with her arms, bringing one hand up to cradle the back of his head. His body shook as he clutched onto her, weeping into her shoulder as she did the same. She whispered soothing words to him, all of which he didn’t hear over the sounds of his crying. He didn’t know how long he sat there as she held him before he heard the door open behind him. He didn’t look up, but he felt the couch dip behind him and then hands rubbing circles into his back. He finally peaked out from Miss Ruby’s shoulders and saw Olivia there with tears on her cheeks. She must have heard the news.

Xavier let go of Miss Ruby and turned to her, wrapping his arms around her instead. Over her shoulder he saw Grace standing in the doorway, her hands covering her mouth as she looked at the two with sympathy. Xavier didn’t want her to see him like this, not after everything, so he buried his head into his sisters’ neck and cried.
________________________________________

Vox sat at the large conference table at Carmine’s place, bouncing his leg up and down. One of his pointed claws tapped at the table and he scowled at the slow trickle of Overlords filing in.

“Will you stop that?” came the whispered reprimand from Velvette to his right who didn’t so much as look up from her phone. “You’re starting to make me nervous too.”

“I’m not nervous,” he huffed, crossing his arms to prevent the taping and crossing his legs to prevent the bouncing. “I’m just wondering where the fuck Val’s at.” While Vox had managed to drag Velvette to the meeting early, Valentino was no where to be seen in V Tower once they left. He had sent several increasingly more annoyed and aggravated texts to Valentino who initially was ignoring his texts. Finally, he had responded, telling Vox to quote ‘not get his cock in a bind, I’ll be there’ with no emojis or his signature X’s and O’s. Great Vox, just great. He managed to piss Val off due to his own anxieties.

But they were warranted! Lillith had ordered all acting Overlord’s to be present which meant that all Overlord’s better be present. Never mind the fact that Lillith had been absent for almost eight years now and had never made such a request before in living memory, she was Queen and as such they were obligated to obey or face consequences. And seeing as Vox was tied to Valentino, in more than one way, he really didn’t want to see what those consequences were should Valentino fuck this up because he was too busy fucking some whore to come to this meeting.

“He’ll be here,” said Velvette. “Or he better be if he knows what’s good for him. And if he doesn’t then fuck him. He’s on his own.”

If only. “No, Vel, he’s not. He doesn’t show up then we’re fucked too.”

“Fuck that, V,” growled Velvette, finally looking up from her phone and glaring at him. “Why should we take the fall due to his own incompetence and carelessness? How many times do we have to before you finally kick him to the curb?”

“Vel, now’s not the time,” Vox said through his teeth, eyeballing all the other mingling Overlords to ensure none were listening in.

“Yeah, because it’s never the time,” Velvette said. “You always find some excuse to not listen to me about him or have some excuse why he just HAS to stay in the Vee’s.”

“He’s one of our members, FOUNDING members. We can’t just kick him out.” How he wished that he could.

“Bullshit!” she said, drawing the attention of a couple other Overlords. Zeezi and the flame-headed one. What was his name again? “Like Hell we can’t!”

“Shhh!” Vox hushed Velvette as he gave his best winning smile to the others. They turned away, resuming their conversation with each other, but he noticed across the table, Rosie was watching him. He pitched his voice quieter so as to keep her from listening. “Will you stop it,” he hissed. “Why are you doing this right now? I know you don’t always get along with Valentino, but you know better than to bring this up here and now.”

Velvette deflated slightly, crossing her arms and scowling down at her phone on the table. She then sighed and her scowl softened. “I’m just tired,” she said, rubbing a finger into her eye. “Haven’t been getting much sleep since you came to me.”

Ahh yes; the antidote. He suddenly felt guilty. He hadn’t realized that she was losing sleep over it and then suddenly felt like an idiot for thinking so. Of course, Velvette would be staying up late into the night trying to replicate it for him. His screen heated up in embarrassment at the memory of him barging into her bedroom late after the last meeting with Heaven, waking her up while a crying wreck as he desperately held onto the glass with what remained of the antidote. She had looked at him with wide startled eyes, clearly unnerved by the sight of the normally put-together CEO begging her to please help him with his own fatal mistake.

He was still beating himself up over his idiotic failure over fucking tripping of all things and ruining Alastor’s one chance at surviving. Charlie had tried telling him that it would be ok, she would contact Heaven and just get a new antidote from them. But he knew, there was little chance they would comply. It was so hard getting the antidote from them the first time, getting another so soon afterwards would surely be an impossibility. And sure enough, it was. While Emily had apparently advocated for Charlie, Sera of course was hesitant. She was suspicious of Charlie’s second request and explanation of what happened, believing that she and Hell were attempting to pull one over on Heaven or take advantage of them. How they would do that with a second antidote, he didn’t know, but they had agreed to discuss the possibility of giving them a second antidote. Vox only worried that by the time they came to a decision it would be too late. Alastor didn’t have much time left.

So, he went to Velvette and begged her to replicate the antidote. That’s why he brought as much of the antidote as he could collect to her in a glass, knowing it would be far easier for her to copy it then simply come up with the formula entirely on her own. He had begged and cried to her, asking her to save Alastor for him, please. The only reason he thought she had agreed was due to his unexpected blubbering otherwise he was sure that she would have told Vox that Alastor’s final death would be a blessing for them and all of Hell.

“Yeah,” he said in a soft whisper. “I haven’t been sleeping very well either. I’m-I’m sorry.”

She sighed. “Don’t worry about it. This ain’t the first time I’ve lost sleep over some project. Besides,” she looked at him. “You know I’d do anything for you V. Even if I think you’re an idiot and don’t know what’s good for you most of the time.”

He chuckled. Yeah, didn’t he know it. How many times had he chosen people and made choices that were bad for him, but he made the choice anyways? “Thanks, V.”

“Shut up,” she huffed. “You can thank me when I inevitably work this out. Because I will, mark my words! I’m a genius after all.” He hummed his agreement, unable to disagree.

“Yes, you are quite the innovative young woman!” came a voice from behind them, startling both. Vox whipped his head around to find Rosie standing behind him. He looked back to where the woman had been sitting earlier, finding her spot vacant. When had she got up from her seat? How did she manage to sneak up behind them? Man, had he really lost that much sleep recently that he was no longer aware of his surroundings? He didn’t know if he should feel better or worse that Velvette was equally taken by surprise. At least one of them should be on their game between the two of them.

“What’s this new project of yours? Anything I’d be interested in?” Rosie asked cheerily. Yes, thought Vox, very interested seeing as it concerned her best friend.

“Like Hell, I’m telling you, you fossil,” barked out Velvette.

“Hhhm. And a rather rude young woman too, I see,” said Rosie with a disapproving tone.

“You want to know what’s rude? It’s rude when someone barges into a conversation uninvited!” cried Velvette.

Rosie leant down between the two of them, placing both her hands on each of Vox’s shoulders, making him tense. She looked at Vox and smiled. “Yes, but Vox and I are old friends. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind me butting in!”

Emphasis on “old”, he thought. Yes, they were once friends but hadn’t been for a very long time. Not since his and Alastor’s falling out. He shrugged her hands off his shoulders in irritation. Who was she fooling, it’s not like they had shared a word between the two of them outside of any official Overlord business since then. Well…if you exclude their one conversation about seven years ago.

“I do mind, actually,” he said. “It’s Vee’s business that doesn’t concern you.”

“Hhm, is that so?” she said with a thoughtful tone of voice. He recognized that tone, even if it had been quite some time since hearing it. She knew something. “You know,” she said in the same tone. “I’ve become rather good friends with the Princess of Hell, recently.” Yeah, Vox knew that. All of Hell knew that after Rosie and her cannibals made a very obvious alliance with Charlie during the extermination. “A sweet girl, truly. But you already knew that didn’t you? She told me that you had been spending some time with her recently.”

Vox narrowed his eyes at her. So what if Charlie had told Rosie about that. What difference did it make? What was Rosie playing at? “Yeah, so I have. I’ve had some business with her.”

“Oh? This business have anything to do with yours and your coworkers project that is causing you both to lose so much sleep?” Rosie cocked her head to the side in a show of innocence. His eye twitched. Of course, she had heard them talk about being tired and losing sleep. How much more did she hear them talk about? She had been staring at them while they argued about Valentino. Damn her. Damn Rosie for always being so perceptive and able to find out things about others that they would rather keep secret. She always had a knack for that, and it was still irritating to this day. Especially since letting others know about the inner turmoil amongst the Vee’s would be incredibly harmful to their image.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” growled Velvette.

“Yes, yes, I would. Especially since it sounds like there’s been some…’complications’ with my dear friend, Alastor, that I have been left in the dark about,” said Rosie with a smile. For the first time since starting this conversation, her smile truly looked predatory as she showed off her sharp teeth.

The Hell? Had Alastor not told Rosie about his injury? That would be just like the man to keep Rosie out of this. He hated anyone knowing about any weakness of his, even those he said were supposedly close to him. Rosie and he had had many a conversation about how irritating that trait of Alastor’s was.

“What has Charlie told you?” he asked slowly.

“Not much, really. Something about not wanting to reveal personal business about others and how rude that is but she’s such an exuberant one, it’s so easy to get information from her it’s almost laughable!” Rosie laughed as if to punctuate the point. “She mentioned that you were helping her and Alastor though which I found rather curious, seeing as you two are rivals nowadays,” she said pointedly.

Was she accusing him of providing false help? Maybe even pretending to help but in reality, he was intentionally making things worse? He felt anger rise up inside of him. While usually such an accusation he wouldn’t mind, in fact he would welcome, having it thrown at him now made his blood boil. He had been providing his genuine help for weeks now, helping Charlie with anything she needed in order to aid Alastor. And then just recently all that effort had been for not when he fucked up and dropped the vial. His stomach twisted and made him nauseous.

Vox opened his mouth to give Rosie a piece of his mind, when she looked up and gave a wider smile. “Oh and would you look at that,” she said cheerily. “Speak of the Devil and he shall appear.” She laughed. “Well, not the literal Devil of course.”

Vox turned his head and looked to the entrance of the conference room and saw Alastor walk through the doors. He wore his ever-present smile and normal attire, appearing for all intents and purposes, the same Demon as he always was. But Vox knew what to look for and also had the privilege of years of being acquainted with the other. He could tell that Alastor was in severe pain and was masking it. Vox heard a slight intake of breath from Rosie and knew that she could tell too.

As Alastor scanned the room his gaze fell upon the three of them and he made eye-contact with Vox. Vox felt a jolt of shame and regret shoot through him, and he quickly looked away. He couldn’t keep the others gaze after what he had done. You stupid, stupid television.

“Oh Alastor, darling, finally! I was beginning to worry you wouldn’t make it!” Rosie said, drawing everyone’s attention. “Come over here darling! I was just having a lovely conversation with our dear friend, Vox!”

Vox would have scoffed at the words “our dear friend” but he was too busy tamping down his panic at having Alastor approaching them. God, what would the other say? Would he insult him like he always did? Would he blame Vox for his impending doom? Vox wouldn’t blame Alastor if he did. He already was blaming himself.

Alastor stopped on the other side of Velvette, giving a weary look at the three of them. “Oh? And what was this lovely conversation about?”

Odd. No comment on the “our dear friend” phrasing either. “Oh, why you, of course!” said Rosie earning her a flick of Alastor’s ear. “Seems there’s a lot going on in recent weeks about you that I haven’t been privy to!”

Alastor scowled and looked down at Vox with an accusing look. “Is that so?” he ground out.

Vox widened his eyes, knowing that Alastor must have assumed that he had been spilling the beans on Alastor’s wound to Rosie, and who knew who else. He threw his hands up in his defense and shook his head. “Wait! I didn’t say anything!”

“It’s true,” said Rosie. “He’s been surprisingly tight lipped thus far. The Princess on the other hand, bless her heart, has not.”

Alastor sighed. “Of course she has. And what exactly did she tell you?”

“Oh, not much, honestly,” Rosie said with a wave of her hand. “I called her up the other day asking her about this royal summons, seeing what this meeting was all about. Turns out she didn’t know much about it herself and had only learned about it from Vox here who had also enquired about it. That of course piqued my interest and that dear started telling me how she’d been spending time with him recently because he’d been helping her with you. Which of course piqued my interest even more!” Rosie said with a sharp edge to her smile. “Unfortunately, that seemed to be the moment that the dear decided that she had said too much when I asked her what sort of help, he was providing.” Despite the lack of any pupils, Vox knew that Rosie’s eyes had turned towards Alastor’s abdomen, noticing the tight way he was holding himself there. “Seems I’ve found out what kind.” Rosie laid a gentle, yet unyielding hand on Vox’s shoulder once more, the threat clear.

Vox tensed and looked up at Rosie in surprise. God, she thought he was responsible for his injury, didn’t she? While he wasn’t, that didn’t mean he wasn’t responsible for Alastor’s current, and continued, state of injury. He began to shake his head to provide some sort of defense on his behalf when Alastor spoke up. “Vox isn’t responsible for my current state of being, Rosie. I assure you,” shocking Vox.

“Oh?” she questioned.

Alastor nodded. “Yes.” The two cannibals stared back at each other for a long couple seconds before Rosie brightened and released her hold on Vox.

“Oh well that’s good to hear!” she said. “But that begs the question of who is.” She cast a quick look down at Velvette. “Perhaps we could find some seats and we can catch up.”

“Don’t bother trying to be discreet on my behalf,” said Velvette. “I already know everything.”

Alastor noticeably darkened and scowled at them. “Is that so?” he said slowly with an edge to his voice.

For the first time since Alastor had walked in Vox felt annoyance towards him. “Oh, don’t start with that. It’s not like you didn’t already know that she knew. Remember that phone call Charlie placed with me that Velvette was there for? That you and the whole damn hotel was there for? Yeah, you knew that she knew about what was going on.”

While Alastor still looked irritated, he seemed to relent, if only slightly. Rosie, however, seemed to grow even more so. “Oh! So, Miss Velvette, a member of the Vee’s no less, is aware of your current state of being, is that right Alastor?” Her tone of voice was clipped, reprimanding like an angry mother. “What exactly has been going on that you have decided to involve the Vee’s and not me?”

Alastor’s ears lowered slightly. “I assure you; their involvement has been entirely against my will.”

“Oh, fuck you, you piece of shit,” said Velvette. “It’s not like I wanted to be part of this either. You could die for all I care. I’m doing this for Vox.”

Vox kicked Velvette under the table, attempting to get the other to just fucking shut up already. He didn’t need her to go telling everyone that for a variety of reasons.

“Oh, don’t you start!” barked Velvette, ignoring his silent demand for silence. “I may be helping you but I’m not going to be silent about how much I hate this wanker for being such an arsehole all the time!”

Alastor chose to ignore that and instead said, “Doing 'what' for Vox, exactly?”

Vox gave her a warning look to shut up, but she missed it, instead turning around to glare at Alastor. “Trying to figure out how to replicate the cure to save your arse, obviously.”

“Cure?” said Rosie in surprise but everyone ignored her. Alastor looked back at Velvette and then Vox in surprise, blinking with wide eyes.

Velvette groaned. “Oh, don’t tell me, he hasn’t even told you.” She looked at Vox and glared who quickly looked away. “Vox you idiot. You’re having me bust my arse trying to save his pathetic self and the fucker doesn’t even know about it. Unbelievable.”

Vox looked anywhere but at the others, not wanting to see their gazes. He could feel Alastor staring at him, however, and he could only go so long before he had to look up. The look Alastor was giving him was unlike anything he had seen before. He looked almost…pained. Which he supposed was probably due in large part to his injury. But there was something more there. Regret? Fondness?

“That’s why you were trying to scoop up the antidote, wasn’t it?” asked Alastor. His voice wasn’t condescending or mocking like it usually was towards Vox. It sounded sad. Maybe even resigned.

Vox shrugged, feeling uneasy with being looked at that way by Alastor. “She’s the best damn chemist in all of Hell. If anyone can do it, it’ll be her.”

Alastor gave a slow nod. “Maybe,” he said softly. “Eventually.”

Vox’s heart sank, knowing that Alastor thought it a foolish and unlikely thing to be accomplished. Or at the very least, he had his doubts of it being done in time. Vox didn’t want to admit to himself or Alastor that he had his doubts too.

Alastor then looked weary and uncertain, his eyebrows furrowing and his body weight shifting from foot-to-foot. “I-I wanted to tell you though, that is that the antidote, it-” He cut himself off, looking away. The fuck? Vox didn’t think he had ever seen Alastor look so unsure of himself. Whatever it was that Alastor wanted to say, Vox siently implored him to countinue.

“Oh you have GOT to be fucking kidding,” came Velvette’s aghast voice. Vox’s gaze shifted and looked past Alastor and Velvette towards where she was looking. There, at the entrance, was Valentino. While Vox was slightly relieved to have him actually show up and not skip out on this very important meeting, it was overshadowed by seeing the Demon next to him.

“The fuck is Adam doing here?” hissed Velvette.

“I don’t know,” Vox said, already getting to his feet to attempt damage control.

As he approached the two, Valentino noticed him and gave a large lecherous, if not smug, smile. “See Voxy, I told you I would be here.”

“What the fuck is he doing here?” growled Vox, ignoring Valentino’s statement.

Clearly that was not the response that Valentino was hoping for because the moth narrowed his eyes at him. Vox ignored that too, however. “He can’t be here. This is a meeting for Overlords, only.”

“I might not be an Overlord yet but you and I both know I’m well on my way to getting there,” said Adam, smiling and giving a pointed look his way. Vox’s eye twitched at the allusion to their unofficial deal.

“’On your way’ and actually an Overlord are two different things,” he hissed. “Leave.”

Adam’s face fell and he said, “No.”

Anger was simmering just under the surface in Vox, and he could feel a couple sparks travel down between his antennae’s. He needed to stay in control of himself or risk creating a scene in front of everyone, but he also needed to get Adam the fuck out of here, especially when Lillith of all people was due to arrive any minute. As tremulous of a relationship as Adam had with the entire royal family, Vox thought that Lillith would be the worst possible person to have Adam run into, being ex’s and all that.

“Vox,” said Valentino. “Adam wanted to be here. I invited him. So, he’s staying.”

More sparks traveled down his body. “How can you possibly think this will be a good idea? Adam! Here with Lillith! Are you TRYING to get us double dead?”

“You’re overreacting, mi amor. This is a good thing, having Adam here. If you would just listen-”

Vox cut off Valentino. “No! You listen!” Valentino looked at him in surprise. “He needs to leave, Val. I can’t have him here and you two fucking this up. No one knows what this meeting is about, and his presence could get us all killed.”

Valentino stared at him for several seconds, looking shocked, before his expression darkened. Fear shot through him at that look, knowing that he fucked up yet again. Valentino bent down, getting into Vox’s face and hissed lowly, so no one else besides the three of them could hear. “You know better than to speak to me like that. Especially in public, amorito.”

“Val-”

“No!” he growled. “You always think that you know best, but you don’t, Voxy. You have no idea the opportunity that fell into our laps when I found Adam. The things that he’s told me oh you have no idea how useful he can be.” What had Adam told him? Surely Adam hadn’t told Valentino that he knew about their deal. He promised he wouldn’t as long as Vox gave him more souls! But they never made the deal official. It was all just based on the fucking ‘honor system’ as Adam called it. Fuck!

“There’s a lot of things nobody knows about your little Queen,” said Adam. Vox furrowed his eyebrows at that, wondering what the Hell he meant by that and if that meant Adam hadn’t told Val or anyone else.

“Sit down, Voxy,” said Valentino, turning him around and pushing him back towards the table. “We got a meeting to sit through.”

Vox wanted to protest further but didn’t know what to do. He felt too off kilter, even since before he arrived for the meeting, but his conversation with Rosie and Alastor didn’t help his already shot nerves and Valentino and Adam made it even worse. And Val’s tightly clasped hand on his shoulder made it hard for him to think of the right words to appease Valentino to get him to kick Adam out. He was sure that he would be paying for this later.

With any luck, Lillith would be so pissed at Adam’s presence that she’ll kill Adam and not just temporarily but permanently. Maybe Carmine would lend an angelic weapon to Lillith, her being the Queen and all. Yes, yes, that would be nice. Valentino would surely be angry but soon enough he’d go back to his old self and find some whore to distract him from the sadness of losing his latest favorite plaything. Maybe they’d be lucky enough too that Charlie would be able to keep Lillith’s wrath from the Vee’s as well.

Vox took his seat back while Valentino sat on Velvette’s other side. Next to Valentino, and opposite the head of the table that Carmine usually took, Adam sat down. God, of course he just had to sit there. On Vox’s other side Rosie sat, and beside her was Alastor, both of which were staring at him.

“Trouble in paradise?” asked Rosie quietly to prevent others from hearing.

“Everything’s just peachy,” he ground out, refusing to look at her.

She hummed. “Is that why you and Miss Velvette were arguing about kicking out your third?”

Vox groaned. Of course, she heard that bit too.

“I think it’s time for all of us to have a nice chat little later, don’t you think?” said Rosie, conversationally. “Perhaps over some tea. Just like old times.”

And just like old times, Alastor and Vox looked at each other out of the corner of their eyes over Rosie, giving each other a familiar pained look at the overbearing personality of the Cannibal Overlord. Vox would have felt nostalgia over the familiar situation and shared look if it wasn’t for the growing dread inside him.

At that moment, the doors on the opposite side of the room, leading back towards the rest of Carmine’s building, opened. Everyone turned their heads and saw Carmine and Zestial exit, just as they had done several times in the past. Only this time, they were accompanied by three others, none of which were Carmine’s daughters. That was odd in itself, the Weapons Overlord typically being accompanied by her two daughters. Apparently when the royal summons meant no one besides Overlord’s being present, Lillith was being serious. Fuck. Or maybe Carmine just didn’t want her daughters anywhere near Lillith or the other royals which he didn’t blame her. He didn’t want to be either and yet he’d found himself in close proximity to the royals at an increasing rate as of late.

In strode Lillith, Lucifer, and Charlie. Vox’s breath was blown away at the sight of Lillith, having never seen the woman before in person. Her beauty was known far and wide, often referred to as one of, if not the most beautiful woman, in all of Hell. Considering the abnormal appearances of a lot of Demons, that wasn’t exactly hard but still. She was undoubtably gorgeous.

What was truly impressive about her was the air of authority and power that seemed to radiate from her. While Lucifer and Charlie were both undeniably powerful, Lucifer being the most powerful being in Hell, they were more on the bumbling side of things. Their power was only known due to who they were but when people met them most couldn’t help but find them to be foolish and be in disbelief that such Demons had any real power within them. Vox of course was not fooled by this, knowing very much what sort of power both had after the extermination, but the feeling of disbelief still lingered.

Lillith, however, there was no denying that she could kill everyone in that room without a problem, baring Lucifer and perhaps her daughter.

Carmine stopped in front of the table, standing in her usual spot with her usually blank expression. One wouldn’t be able to tell if the Overlord was nervous or not about having the entire royal family in her home, but Vox was sure that she was even if she was skilled at masking it. Any sane Demon would be, and Carmine was no fool. He hated to admit it, even if to himself, but she was perhaps the sanest amongst them.

“Thank you everyone for coming today. I know I was not the one to invite you here today, but on behalf of the royal family I thank and commend you all for arriving and am sure you all will represent the Overlord rank respectfully and not disappoint the monarchy.”

Yeah, Vox thought, sure they won’t. Vox made eye contact with Charlie who was standing to her mother’s right, looking nervous. Charlie made a meaningful look towards Adam at the end of the table, clearly asking him what Adam was doing there. Vox gave a small shrug and shake of his head. Charlie didn’t look pleased and looked at the back of her mothers’ head with a worried look. Fuck again. If Charlie looked worried about Adam being there then yeah, this wasn’t going to be good. Lucifer even gave a confused look towards Vox when he noticed Adam which made Vox just gulp thickly. Fuuucckkk!

And if the two of them noticed Adam, then surely Lillith would notice him too. But maybe she wouldn’t automatically realize who he was. For all she knew he was just a new Overlord that had risen to power in her absence, just as Velvette had. Or maybe she wasn’t even aware of the Overlord ranks and his face wouldn’t just be a new one because all of them were new faces to her. After all, Lucifer didn’t exactly keep himself up to date on the current Overlords and Charlie wasn’t much better. He just needed Carmine to keep quiet and not comment on Adam’s attendance.

Loud and obnoxious laughter rung out in the conference room drawing everyone’s attention to the end of the table. Surprisingly, it wasn’t Carmine who drew the attention to Adam’s attendance but the man himself who was cackling like a madman. Vox saw Lillith scowl. Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP, thought Vox.

Adam was bent over, pounding his hand on the table, his eyes closed due to laughing so hard. When he finally opened his eyes, he looked at Lillith, then looked at Alastor, and continued laughing hysterically. The Hell was wrong with him?? God, it wasn’t just Valentino that was trying to get them killed.

Vox tried catching the attention of the other to implore him to shut the fuck up but no such luck. Vox even looked at Valentino to see if he had an explanation for Adam’s bizarre behavior, but Valentino looked as equally confused.

“And who is this?” came Carmine’s drawling voice.

Vox was hesitant to speak up, not wanting to make it obvious that Adam was associated with him and the Vee’s. Adam, however, didn’t seem capable of answering for himself as he kept laughing. He didn’t need to though for Lillith took a couple slow steps forward, Carmine moving out of the way without question.

“I know who this is. I’d recognize him anywhere, no matter what form he may take,” said the melodic voice of their Queen. “Adam.”

Murmurs broke out in the room, all of which were from the other side of the table as they reacted in surprise. Only Rosie on their side was surprised, but she soon got over that once she noticed the lack of reaction from those beside her. She gave a confused look at both Alastor and Vox, but Vox ignored it, too worried about what would happen next.

“Hey, baby!” said Adam once he was able to get ahold of himself enough. “Long time no see, ain’t that right?” And then he began to laugh again, everyone unaware of whatever great joke that had been told. Lillith for her part looked even less pleased than she had a moment ago.

“I’d heard from my daughter that you had managed to find yourself resurrected here,” Lillith said. “Tell me, how do you like being a Demon?”

That sobered up Adam who glowered back at Lillith. “I don’t know. I wonder, how would you find it playing at being an angel?”

Adam, you fuck! Don’t rub it in that your ex was damned while you were saved! That’s only going to piss her off! And sure enough, Lillith was seething where she stood, her horns growing slightly. Vox may want her to kill Adam where he sat, but he REALLY didn’t want to see Lillith’s true Demonic form.

Despite the clear anger, Lillith did not react outside of her growing horns. She stared back at the other with a frown and a clenched fist. She eventually unclenched her fist, and her shoulders relaxed incrementally. “What are you doing here, Adam? Sticking your nose in where it’s not wanted, yet again?” Lucifer shifted on his feet when Adam shot a look at him.

Adam barked out another laugh, this time one that sounded fake. “That’s rich coming from you.” The Hell does that mean? “But I’ll have you know; I AM wanted here.” No, no. Shut up please. “I was invited.”

Lillith raised a single well-manicured eyebrow. “By whom? Because I assure you, I did not invite you.”

Instead of pointing to Valentino, the bastard pointed to Vox. “Why the Vee’s!” The fucker!! All eyes turned to look at them, but most were on Vox specifically. Charlie gave him a betrayed look. Rosie gave him a surprised look. Alastor looked pained still and then looked at Valentino with a scowl.

“Uhhh, fuck you,” said Velvette. “We did not invite you!”

“He did show up with you lot,” said Zeezi. “We all saw it.” The flaming dude nodded.

“Ugh, he showed up with this idiot,” Velvette thrust a thumb at Valentino beside him. “Not me.”

Zeezi crossed her arms. “Ain’t you lot a packaged deal?”

Velvette turned to look at Vox as if to say ‘see, this is why we should get rid of the bastard’ but did not comment.

“Overlord’s Vox, Velvette, and Valentino,” said Lillith. Great she actually knew their names. Even Velvette’s! “Care to explain yourselves?”

“Of course, your highness,” said Valentino, speaking up before Vox could. “You see, I found Adam on the streets some weeks back and saw the tremendous potential he possessed. He’s the first man, after all, and like yourself, as one of the first people to ever exist, he has the potential to be one of the most powerful Demons in all of Hell! While he might not be an Overlord quite yet, he’s sure to be one soon enough. He’s already gained so much power in such a short amount of time. Think of this meeting as just a wee-bit pre-mature and just an early introduction to the newest Overlord!”

While the brief attempt at stroking of one’s ego would work with many people, Vox doubted that Lillith would fall for it. And it’s not like Lillith was in the habit of meeting new Overlord’s, nor any of the royal family. Sure there was a protocol for bringing a new Overlord into the fray amongst the other Overlord’s, doing it here and now, even IF Adam had just reached Overlord status, would not be the time-or-place.

Zestial cleared his throat and spoke up from where he sat. “Arst we to believe that Adam is to be the latest member of the Vee’s?”

God, no. “Yes, of course!” cried Valentino. Excuse me?? “Seeing as we took him in, like we had Velvette once, he will be the newest member to our group.”

A low whining noise was heard in the back of his throat that only the two women next to him heard. Both looked at him with concern.

Zeezi snorted. “And how would that work with your whole ‘brand?’ His name doesn’t start with a V.”

“Good question!” said Adam. “We’d been brainstorming that, actually.” Since when? What the Hell had Valentino and Adam been talking about after all this time? He shouldn’t have been leaving them alone together so often. “It’s not like Velvette’ or ‘Vox’ are their true names anyways. I can rename myself too. I’ve been throwing some names around like Vincent. Vlad or Vladimir. Victor-”

“Absolutely not,” barked out Vox, finally ending his silence. He glared at Adam.

“Yeah, you’re right. Victor’s a lame name. Vlad or Vladimir sounds better. Like that Impaler guy. Or the Russian dude!”

“As interesting as the new development amongst the Vee’s is,” drawled Carmine from her spot next to Zestial. “I do not think now is the appropriate time to be discussing such matters.”

“That is correct,” said Lillith, staring down Adam. “This is a meeting for Overlord’s ONLY. You are dismissed.”

Adam sneered at his ex-wife. “I don’t think so. I’m staying.”

Lillith’s eye’s flashed as her horns began to grow once more “This is MY realm, Adam. MY domain. You will obey ME while here!” A phantom wind twirled around her, making her hair fly about in her rising anger.

Adam looked calm, however, and stared back. He then smirked and said, “And while elsewhere?”

Lillith took a step forward, looking about ready to tear the room apart spurring Vox on. “Leave!” he cried; his left eye twirling as he stared at Adam who froze. “NOW!” he bellowed. Vox felt a threadbare hold on Adam’s mind, but it was strong enough that the other stood. Apparently, Adam hadn’t quite reached a power level that Vox’s hypnosis was useless, and apparently his supposed conviction of wanting to remain in the meeting wasn’t so strong otherwise he wouldn’t have got to his feet and left without further comment.

Everyone stared at him with varying looks. The one that Vox was truly worried about, however, was the seething one Valentino shot him.

“W-well wasn’t that great!” said Charlie, attempting miserably to come to his aid. “Thank you, Mr. Vox for sending him away.

“Of which you wouldn’t have needed to if you hadn’t brought him here in the first place,” drawled Lillith. “You know, of recent you have been nothing but trouble. I’m getting quite tired of it.”

The fuck sort of trouble was she talking about? What had Vox done to her? He looked at Charlie for answers, but she also looked confused. “It’s not just you though. All of you Overlord’s have become more trouble than you’re worth. Turf wars. Mass casualties and property damage. The permanent eradication of soul through angelic weapons.” She glared at each of them in turn. “It must stop.”

Perhaps Lillith was the one that Charlie got her idealist personality from and desire to save all Sinners. Honestly, Vox had assumed it was Lucifer she more got it from. Was this truly why Lillith had called them all there?

“There is a storm on the horizon. The recent extermination was indication enough of this. All of Hell must be prepared next time if we have any hope of surviving instead of sitting back and letting my daughter handle it on her own.”

Great, just great. First Lucifer’s near blunder at the first meeting with Heaven, almost declaring war outright, now Lillith was here practically stating that war was inevitable. While Vox was inclined to agree with her, or at least that they were treading on very delicate ground with Charlie’s and his meetings with Heaven, those meetings were also an opportunity to steer CLEAR of war. Damn, when did he start sounding so optimistic?

"And what would you have us do, Your Majesty?" asked Rosie. "Besides of course not fighting with each other, that is."

"There may come a time when I and the royal family will call on each of you, individually and together. You all will be expected to obey," said Lillith. A sense of unease trickled through the room as the Overlord's fidgeted in their seats.

"And what exactly will that entail?" questioned Carmine hesitantly.

"For starters, your weapons business will be more heavily monitored and new limitations will be put in place to ensure no angelic weapons should find their way into unsanctioned and untrustworthy hands," said Lillith sternly.

Carmine's eyes widened slightly in surprise before she was able to school her expression. She cleared her throat. Her words were measured as she said, "With all due respect, Your Majesty, I am the Overlord of weapons. I rule the industrial district. My main source of power is through selling weapons and if you were to limit that then my power would also be limited."

"Then you will have to find other means of maintaining your power. But the new limitations on who you can and can't sell weapons to is non-negotiable."

Vox heard Velvette laugh giddily next to him. Vox didn't share in her enthusiasm, however, knowing that surely Carmine's powers would not be the only one that would be capped and tested.

"And if we should refuse?" asked Alastor, speaking up for the first time. While Alastor's looks oftentimes looked less than friendly, the look he was giving the Queen was positively murderous. "What will you do then?"

Lillith glared back at him. "Then you shall be punished severely. No exceptions." Lillith turned back to the other Overlords, clearly thinking the matter settled but Alastor didn't agree.

"Punished, how?" he asked. "It's no use threatening us with such an ambiguous threat. We're all Overlords. We do our fair share of threatening. You need to be specific if you want us to fall in line."

No, no, thought Vox, he'll fall in line if the Queen demanded it. He didn't need her to outline how exactly she would eviscerate him should he fail.

"You see," continued Alastor, not waiting for an answer. "I think you won't punish us if we refuse. I think this is a desperate attempt at regaining control after your unexpected, and unexplained sabbatical. You won't do anything to me, Your Majesty, and you know it."

Lillith and Alastor stared at each other, everyone silent as they watched the two stare the other down. Charlie was hopping on her feet anxiously, looking back-and-forth at the two. Lucifer even looked concerned, or perhaps he just didn't understand the clear animosity between the two. "You will regret not listening to me, Radio Demon. I will make sure of it."

Alastor leaned forward and his smile turned menacing but smug. "Then prove it." He then stood up and began to walk towards the exit. Everyone watched him walk away, the occasional look being shot towards Lillith, waiting for her response. None was forthcoming, however, and she simply stared as she seethed in rage. Was she really going to let Alastor get away with such obvious insolence? And in front of everyone, effectively challenging her authority? When Alastor got to the doors, opening them and turning around only to give a cheeky little wave as the doors closed behind him, it was obvious that she would. Everyone whipped their heads back around to Lillith once the doors closed.

Silence rang out in the room for several seconds before the flaming guy stood up slowly. "SIT! DOWN!" bellowed Lillith, echoing through the room and causing several people to cover their ears or winch in pain. The flame dude sat down. "If one more of you decides to leave without my say so, it will take them ages before they can regenerate because there will be nothing of them left."

The only one who made any sort of noise was Charlie, who shot a shocked look at her mother. She stepped forward and placed a tentative hand on her mothers arm. "Not now Charlie," she said, making Charlie pull her hand back dejectedly. "There is a war coming. Each and every one of you is expected to do your part in preventing it or face extermination. If any of you should have questions on exactly how that should be brought about, if you disobey me, then I will be more than happy to answer said questions through a demonstration. I shall be staying at my daughter's hotel for the foreseeable future. That's where you will be able to find me with your concerns." More nervous shifting in the Overlord's seats. "In the meantime, I will be calling upon each of you in due time with my requests and demands. If any of you have any reservations, be sure to dispel them before I arrive." And then she turned around and walked back through the doors that she had arrived through.

Murmurs swirled around the room, everyone on edge after the meeting. Vox got to his feet and made a beeline for Charlie. "The Hell was that?" he hissed. Charlie shook her head in confusion. "I don't know," she said, rubbing her hands nervously up and down her crossed arms. "She didn't tell us what this meeting was going to be about at all. I didn't know she was going to do any of that." Lucifer came to stand by them, placing a soothing hand on his daughter's shoulder.

"What about Alastor?" Vox asked. "What's up with his pissy attitude towards your mom?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. He was the same way when he first met my dad. I don't know why he's so hostile towards my parents."

"It's because the man is down right disrespectful, I'll say," said Lucifer.

Vox shook his head. "No, Alastor might be cocky but he's not an idiot. He gives Zestial, the oldest and most powerful of us, his due respect if for no other reason than he doesn't want to be killed on the spot. Al's not just going to get in some pissing match with the two most powerful beings in Hell for no reason."

"Yeah well that's what happened," said Lucifer. "I'd never met the guy so it's not like I'd shat in his cornflakes or something."

"Are you sure dad?" asked Charlie. "I mean you don't have the best memory. Maybe you have met him before and done something to make him angry."

Lucifer shrugged. "Well if I have it's not like I remember it." Lucifer scowled. "And hey, what about you? What were you thinking bringing Adam here of all days?"

"I didn't," Vox said in exasperation. "Val decided to bring him for who the fuck knows why. Something about opportunities and some shit that Adam told him." Vox scowled. "And Adam said something about people not knowing everything there is to know about the Queen." He looked at the two royals. "That mean anything to you?"

Charlie shook her head but Lucifer looked thoughtful, almost worried. Maybe regretful. Charlie noticed and asked, "Dad, do you know something?"

"No, no, sweety, it's just-" he trailed off looking sad. "I haven't just been a not so great father in recent years but a not so great King, and husband. There's a lot of things I don't know about Lillith and what she's been up to in recent years. Her recent absence is just the tip of the iceberg."

"Well just great," said Vox, crossing his arms. "It's just one thing after another." He sighed. Charlie looked over his shoulder and looked tense. "Uhm, Vox.." she trailed off, pointing behind him. He turned around and saw Valentino and Velvette walking towards him, Valentino looking less than pleased and Velvette looking annoyed at the moth.

"Mi amor, I didn't know you were well acquainted with the King and Princessa," said Valentino with his false sugary sweet tone of voice. The two royals looked confused and no wonder. Vox hadn't told Valentino about his association with the two and he hadn't told them, or the hotel crew, that he had left Valentino in the dark about it. Great, now even more people were aware of the less than perfect and cohesive team that the Vee's presented themselves to be.

"Oh well we're not, unfortunately!" Vox said, with his best winning smile. Charlie's eyebrows furrowed and she opened her mouth to interject but Vox threw his arm around her shoulders, and pulled her close before she could. "I've only had the one interaction with the Princess weeks ago when she asked me to sponsor her hotel. I thought it wouldn't hurt to ask her further questions about her mothers demands so VoxTech and the Vee's could properly prepare for whatever she and the rest of the royal family may need. Isn't that right, Princess?" Vox looked down at Charlie with a beseeching look, begging with his eyes for her to play along. Slowly but surely he watched realization enter her eyes.

"Oh. Ohhhhh! Yes! Yes of course! That's exactly what happened. Haven't talked to Vox - I mean MISTER Vox since that one and only meeting!" Charlie said with a too wide smile. Vox would facepalm if it wouldn't make the lie even more obvious.

"Wha?" said Lucifer. "But just the other week-"

"Just the other week I was talking about reaching out to Mr. Vox again! Yes, that's right dad!" said Charlie, ducking under Vox's arm and grabbing her dad. "I thought I'd pitch the idea of the hotel to him again to see if he'd reconsider sponsoring it but I know he wouldn't go for it and that's ok and it's completely his decision so we really shouldn't bother him anymore and I think it's time for us to go so bye Vo - I mean Mr. Vox and it was a pleasure to meet you again!" Charlie pushed her startled father away, waving back at Vox as she exited out the way her mother left.

"What a strange girl," said Valentino, completely baffled by the display but considering how odd Charlie typically was her behavior wouldn't be that out of the norm, thankfully. Vox didn't need to piss off Valentino even more at this point for Valentino then turned to Vox and he could tell that Valentino was DEFINITELY not over his attitude earlier and he doubted him sending Adam away would blow over well either. "Now Voxy, I think we need to have a little chat about earlier."

"Can it, Val," said Velvette. "You were an idiot for bringing Adam here. Vox just saved our arses by sending that twat away. You should be thanking him."

'Thanking him??" he cried in indignation. "After how he behaved??"

"He's not the one acting like a whiny pissbaby all the time," she huffed. "Now let's get the fuck out of this dump." Without waiting for a response she began to walk away, knowing the other two would follow. Vox made to do just that when Valentino grabbed his arm with a deathgrip.

He swallowed when he looked up at Valentino, pushing down as much of his internal anxieties as he could. "This isn't over, amorito," whispered Valentino, his lips curling up in a cruel smile. "Just wait until we get home."
_________________________________________

Xavier sat in a pew amongst a small crowd of people all dressed in black. Olivia sat next to him holding onto his hand as a preacher stood at the front droning on. The words were loud and clear but none of them reached him as he stared at the coffin before them.

The last time Xavier had gone to a funeral it was his brother's. Olivia was by his side then too, holding onto his hand as he silently wept. That funeral was outside where they buried an empty coffin, his brother's body never being recovered. It was strange throwing clumps of dirt into the grave, effectively sealing in the empty box. He remembered wondering where his brother's body truly lay, whether it be in some unmarked grave or a mass grave amongst his fellow soldiers, enemies and comrades alike. The ground was too cold for a grave to be dug right now, snow slowly trickling down as the preacher spoke.

Once the preacher was finally done speaking it was time for everyone to pay their respects. There was the occasional sniffle around them but no one was openly crying. The deceased had no children. No parents. No siblings. No wife. The closest family he had was Miss Ruby who sat with a sorrowful yet stoic face next to Xavier. Any tears she had to shed had already fallen in that tiny office space as she held Xavier in her arms. The next closest family was Xavier. Only everyone thought him to be some sort of protege, or pseudo son or younger brother. No one knew the truth except for Olivia. But at least the lie that everyone believed made it more acceptable for him to have tears freely streaming down his cheeks.

The small crowd filed forward with Miss Ruby going first. She grabbed his hand to stand him up to go next. Miss Ruby walked up the step and placed her hand on the closed casket, the corpse being too disfigured to show. She murmured a couple words to herself and the deceased before stepping down and it was Xavier's turn. He walked up and stared down at the coffin, staring at the wreath of flowers placed on top. He didn't know what to say. Would Izzy even be able to hear him if he said anything? He didn't know if he believed Izzy would but he didn't want to risk it if it was possible. Xavier leaned close to the casket, placed his hand lightly on the smooth wooden and whispered the three little words that he had been so reluctant to say previously, worried about scarring off the other for good. Fresh tears sprung to his eyes, hot as they fell, and quickly retook his seat as Olivia had her turn. Sebastian and Thomas soon stepped up and then the rest of the Ruby Red trickled forward. Most of those in attendance were those from the Ruby Red, whether that be workers or regulars that had gotten to know the gangster. There was the old lady who lived next door and the shop workers from the market that he had frequented. Other than that, there was no one else.

Except for one. However, Xavier didn't want to acknowledge her. Ever since that day that he had found out that Izzy had died he had avoided Grace, too preoccupied in his grief to acknowledge the complicated feelings surrounding their last interaction. He didn't have the words to explain himself without acknowledging the truth and that's something he couldn't risk. So, he had avoided her and thought that at least here he would be able to do so. Grace never even met Izzy. He didn't understand why she was here.

Once the last person had had their turn with Izzy, everyone began to meander about, most mingling towards the back of the church while others made their exit. Olivia patted his arm as he continued to sit there and he nodded at her as she walked off to converse with some of their old coworkers and friends, Miss Ruby giving him a kiss on the cheek before walking away as well. Xavier picked at the loose button on his suit jacket, pulling at the thread and making it worse. He didn't care that he was making his suit worse, he needed to buy a new one anyways. Between Olivia and him they made a decent amount of money that such things as clothing was no longer a luxury but it was a habit of not spending that was hard for them to break from their meager money growing up and even more humble money when they left home.

His solituded didn't last long as he heard the clacking of heels approaching before a person settled down in the pew beside him. At his side was Grace who looked up at him before staring up at the coffin too. He wanted to tell her to leave but had no energy. He hoped that if he remained silent then she would as well but he knew he wouldn't be so lucky.

"I never got a chance to tell you how sorry I was for your loss," she said softly. He hummed in response. "I am. Sorry that is. Truly I am."

"Thanks."

"You two seemed close." It wasn't a question but Xavier answered as if it was. "We were," he said.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"You already mentioned," he said. Then silence. Grace shifted in her seat, unsure of how to continue but clearly wanting to. "Why are you here, Grace?" he said in a dead tone. He didn't want to beat around the bush like usual. He just wanted her to say whatever she had come there to say, at a stranger's funeral, and leave.

"You know my brother," she slowly began, voice quiet enough that no one else would be able to hear. "He's quite a charming man. Handsome too. Captured the eyes of many young ladies back home but he never once spared them any thought. I thought it peculiar on more than one occasion especially since he had many friends that were women but he said he had never been with them in any intimate fashion before. I thought him lying in order to protect their honor but over time I realized something."

"What's that?" he asked, knowing it was expected from him but not really caring for the answer.

"He didn't care for those women. Or any women for that matter. At least not in that way." Xavier tensed but did not turn. "At first I didn't know what to think, I thought maybe I was just imagining things but I don't think I was. I still don't even if I never did ask him about it. Maybe I am wrong or maybe I'm not. It doesn't really matter though because when I realized that, I realized something else too, about myself that is."

"Yeah?" he asked in a wobbly voice.

"Yeah," she said quietly, barely loud enough for him to hear. She slipped her hand into his, more just resting it there. It would be so easy for him to pull his hand away if he so chose. "I realized that I didn't care if he liked women or not. Because he was my brother and I loved him."

Xavier swallowed thickly. "And now? After everything that happened with him? After he hurt you. You don't think that had any affect on him? Maybe made him twisted enough inside to hurt you as he did."

Grace tilted her head to the side. "I think," she said slowly. "That while there might be something twisted and dark inside him, that doesn't mean that he's that way because of how he loves. He loved me just fine, it's just maybe he didn't always show it the right way. But that don't mean that his love was wrong. And if he doesn't love women the way most men love women, but he loves men the way most women love men then, well, I think there's nothing wrong with that either. As long as no one is getting hurt then there ain't nothing wrong with that love." Grace gave out a sad sigh and he felt her deflate slightly. "Not everyone can have a love like that. Even those who love normally."

More tears fell down Xavier's cheeks, distorting his vision of the coffin and church. Grace squeezed his hand and he squeezed back. "I'm not sayin' I know what's in your heart, Xavier. And it's ok if you don't want to tell me. But if you are like my brother at all, like how I think he is, then I want you to know that I don't care either. And if you aren't and you just don't care for me in that way then - then that's ok too." She rested her head gently against his shoulder. "You're one of my best friends Xavier. You and Olivia. I just don't want to lose you."

"D-did Olivia tell you about the funeral?" he asked in a quivering voice.

"I asked her when it was, actually. I wanted to be here to support you. Both of you."

Xavier rested his head against hers where it still lay. "Thanks."

The two sat there for several more moments until Olivia made her way to them and asked if they were ready to leave, smiling at the clasped hands. Xavier nodded his assent and the three made their way outside and into the snow, flagging down a taxi. Xavier settled in the middle, with both women on either side. Despite the horrible and emotionally draining day, week really, he was glad to not lose one more important relationship in his life but for it to strengthen even. There has only been a handful of people in his life who have found out his secret and accepted him for it. Most were either just like him or were his sister, never had he had a friend who had done the same. Xavier squeezed Grace's hand that he still had in his as a show of thanks and appreciation. She squeezed back and he smiled for the first time in days. Best friend, she had said. He'd never had a best friend.

As they drove, they noticed several people on the streets frantically rushing about, some running into and some running out of shops with arms full of items.

"What's going on?" asked Olivia, looking outside.

"Ahh there's some sort of nonsense goin' on over near Wall St. I just dropped some businessmen off over there, you should see the chaos over there," said the driver.

"Can you turn the radio on, please," asked Xavier.

The driver obliged and soft music filled the air. "Turn it to some news station," Xavier said, causing the driver to huff but he still obeyed. It didn't take him long to find a reporter speaking through the radio.

"This just in! A massive stock market crash just occurred on Wall St. today, a decline in share prices that has been steadily worsening since September. Investors traded some sixteen million shares on the New York Stock Exchange today, resulting in a crash reminiscent of the London Stock Exchange crash in September. There's no telling what sort of repercussions will ensue both domestically and internationally but people are flocking to the banks as we speak!"

The driver cursed as they drove and Xavier felt a new sort of dread. "What does this mean?" asked Grace with a worried voice, looking at the siblings.

"It's alright," said Xavier, squeezing her hand once more. "Everything will be alright. I'm sure the stock market will bounce back. There's nothing to worry about."

Or at least he hoped so. Distantly, he wondered if he'd actually be able to buy that new suit after all.

Notes:

In 1929:
Xavier (Vox) is 24
Olivia is 27

Well, I honestly didn't expect to write about Izzy more but here we go. He turned into a more significant character to Vox than I thought. Not upset about this though. Also, Rosie finally appears! Yay! I honestly had been wanting to include her for some time but unfortunately I just couldn't find the right time to include her. Don't worry, she'll be in this more. Not necessarily a lot, I think, but there will be more of her to come. At the very least in future installments in this series she'll show up more.

Historical facts about this chapter:

The Wall Street Crash of 1929 occurred over the course of a couple of months, starting in September and continuing to November. However, the day known as Black Tuesday occurred on October 29th, 1929 which is commonly known as the Stock Market Crash of 1929. This marked the start of the Great Depression.

And as always, stay tuned for the next chapter!

Chapter 16: A Realization and Another Hellish Night

Summary:

It's 1912 and then 1914. Alastor struggles with his continual association with Mr. Ainsley but soon finds a resolution with the help of a new friend.

In the present Alastor discovers something about himself and Vox deals with the fallout of the Overlord meeting with Valentino.

Notes:

So this chapter carries a far more significant trigger warning than any previous chapters. This is by far the worst chapter thus far and I want people to be careful while reading. I've stated before that this story will have some serious content and it might be hard for some people to read. There is going to be some sexual assault in this chapter and if that is something you don't want to read, the section of this chapter that has that will be at the very end and will start with a bunch of ******. Once you see that, don't read the rest. I will put a summary of that section at the very end so you can skip it.

Trigger warning!!!: RAPE, allusions to past suicide, allusions to past sexual assault, implied attempted sexual assault, homophobic language, canon typical violence

1912

Alastor pulled up in his vehicle outside the large house, turning the vehicle off as he hopped out. While having the vehicle made getting around town far easier, he was tempted to sell it knowing that it would earn a hefty sum and help out significantly back home with his mother. But he was gifted the vehicle under the condition that he doesn't sell it and Alastor didn't want to draw the wrath of his business partner. Things were going so well with their business ventures and he was reluctant to admit that appearances went a long way towards their continued success. And Alastor owning his own vehicle gave the impression of him being a well-to-do young business tycoon that sponsors were sure to take a liking to.

That entire side of the business, the sleazy schmoozing and brown nosing, put a bad taste in his mouth but thankfully Alastor didn't have to worry too much about that. Mr. Ainsley dealt with that. He was more than well versed in the unsavory parts of running a business, the distasteful man. Ahhh, and here comes another distasteful part of the man.

As Alastor walked up to the front door, it opened to reveal a short blonde woman, indiscreetly fixing her clothes. Alastor sneered as he saw her push up her breasts, making her already prominent cleavage even more significant. The woman looked up and caught his eye, giving a wide and lecherous smile. "Like what you see, big boy?"

Alastor scoffed as they walked past each other. "Not particularly."

He heard her cackle behind him which he ignored. He'd seen her leaving or lying about Mr. Ainsley's house on multiple occasions and she always was so brash. She seemed to enjoy needling at Alastor too, finding his aversion to her usually less-than-fully-dressed state amusing. His obvious disapproval also seemed to spur her on but his disapproval was not with her. At least not completely. It was rather with Mr. Ainsley himself and his purchase of such services. But it's not like Alastor expected anything else from the man. He was a pimp himself, after all.

Alastor opened the front door and made his way inside, closing the door behind him. A distant voice cried out towards him. "Margaret, darling. Is that you? Did you forget something?"

"I'm not your fluzie," grouched out Alastor.

"Ahh! Alastor, my boy! I'll be right with you." Alastor huffed but made no further comment. He made his way towards the couch in the front lobby, making himself comfortable. Once Mr. Ainsley finally emerged he too was still fixing his clothing, buttoning his shirt and tying his tie. Alastor scowled which he was not able to mask, earning him a chuckle from the older man. "Now, now Alastor. Don't be that way. Smile! It's only natural."

"Engaging in immoral acts with one of your 'employees'," Alastor said with a sarcastic tone on the last word. "Is not natural."

"I've already told you, she's not one of mine. I refuse to be one of those types."

Alastor huffed. "Oh yes, because purchasing her services is so much better as long as you don't own her."

Mr. Ainsley snapped at him, saying, "I don't own her nor any person. I'm no slaver and you'll do well to remember that. I am a legitimate business man and even then she isn't one of my own."

Alastor didn't comment further, tired of this same song and dance of his disapproval of Mr. Ainsley's other business dealings that he had insisted on Mr. Ainsley keeping him out of. While Mr. Ainsley had done so, it was clear that over the past couple of years the older man was doing his upmost best to expose Alastor to it. This 'Margaret' almost always just arriving as Alastor is leaving, or leaving as Alastor is arriving, happening more frequently than in the past. And that was only the tip of the iceberg, the older man insisting on stopping at his other places of business while on the way to some meeting or the studio more often than not. Alastor had seen more of the seedy underbelly of New Orleans than he would have ever cared for and he didn't quite understand why. To what ends was the old man taking Alastor to these places when he expressed his clear distaste.

"As you say," sniffed Alastor, choosing to change the subject. "Are you finally ready then? We have a meeting with Fred Holmes to become a sponsor to our station. We can't be late."

"Yes, yes. I'm ready. You must relax. This isn't my first time you know," he chuckled as he grabbed his jacket, pulling it on.

The two made their way to Mr. Ainsley's own vehicle, driving off down the road. The sun was starting to dip low towards the horizon and the first stirs of the nightlife were coming alive. The city came to life at night and they had had their fair share of meetings at night. Thankfully Mr. Ainsley kept the meetings to his more reputable business's for Alastor's sake and some of their more sensible sponsors and partners. Thankfully this Fred Holmes was one of the more sensible ones for he had requested to dine at Mr. Ainsley's more well known restaurants and lounge, the Alligator Club.

It was a favorite spot of Alastor's, despite his reluctance to admit it to Ainsley himself. But the man had taken some of the recipes that Alastor had taught to the man, recipes taught to him by his own mother, and incorporated them into the establishments menu. Of course they weren't as good as when his mother made them herself but they had at least improved upon the restaurants reputation.

They arrived at the Alligator Club and met with Fred Holmes and some of his associates. Mr. Ainsley made quick work of charming the men. It always surprised Alastor how easily the man managed to win over so many prominent and rich white men despite Mr. Ainsley's skin color. Alastor didn't always have the same success. He was far too brash and quick to anger, as Mr. Ainsley said. But Alastor thought it had more to do with Mr. Ainsley's ability to understand and pinpoint the desires of others so easily and play to those weaknesses. Despite Mr. Ainsley's many distasteful qualities, Alastor admired this trait. It would make his life and other work so much easier.

'Luring in one's prey without being discovered is always a useful quality, to be sure. You have improved over time from your observation of the man,' hissed his shadow. 'He has proven to be more useful than I would have initially thought.'

Yes, thought Alastor. He has been. Since his association with the older man he had managed to teach Alastor a fair amount about manipulating others and using that to his advantage for the work he did for the Mistress. On top of that he had found a more lucrative way to earn money and help support his mother. Their radio business had become far more popular than either men initially thought. There didn't seem to be a soul in New Orleans who didn't listen to Alastor's show, even some outside of the city reaching as far as Mississippi.

'Yes, a useful tool indeed.' whispered the shadow as it watched Mr. Ainsely smile and win over the men before him. 'A useful tool with such a dark soul. The Mistress will be pleased to acquire him in due time.'

Alastor fidgeted in his seat, unsure of exactly what his shadow meant by that. On more than one occasion the creature had alluded to such things, others with stains upon their souls. Some had more than others but what Alastor soon came to realize was that every one of the people that Alastor was commanded to kill by Her had a significantly dark soul. Tainted. It seemed that it pleased the Mistress for him to kill those who had done their fair share of dark deeds. Alastor reminded himself about this on more than one sleepless night as he lay awake thinking of the people he was commanded to kill, their pleading cries echoing in his mind and their desperate eyes stained on the backs of his eyes. They were dark souls who had done dark deeds; they deserved their fate, he told himself.

Laughter startled Alastor out of his stupor, Fred Holmes and his associates laughing at some joke or story told by Ainsley.

"Oh Charles! You always tell the best tales," said Fred Holmes.

"When you have lived the life I have it ain't hard," he said with a smile. "I'll tell you, that woman truly was one Hell of a gal, if you know what I mean."

More laughter which made Alastor scowl. He hadn't listened to the story but he could surmise the nature of it.

"I must say," said Fred. "I am rather disappointed though. I'll admit I thought there would be some uh, entertainment during this meeting, if you understand my meaning." He gave a pointed look towards Mr. Ainsley.

Absolutely not, thought Alastor. This was one of Mr. Ainsley's more reputable businesses. This wasn't one of his whore houses. There should be none of that here.

"Now, now, it's too early for that," said Ainsley. Good, he thought. Mr. Ainsley leaned forward with a conspiratorial look then. "But don't you worry. I'll be saving that special for you later. Just you wait until you meet this one gal. I think you'll like her plenty."

And the men laughed some more. Alastor was fuming, hating that the old man had done it once more, mixing his businesses with one another. How many times has this been now? How many times had he involved Alastor, however superficially that may be, in his other work? He bit his tongue though as Mr. Ainsley laughed and made comments yet again about how Alastor needed to lighten up and smile more, and he suffered through being dragged to one of Mr. Ainsley's more unsavory clubs.

There was lively music and alcohol was flowing. There were several scantily clad women hanging off the arms of men, Fred Holmes and his associates included. Alastor sat in the corner of the room, scowling at the proceedings but saying nothing. Any woman who got too close he would shoot a look at that could kill any he turned it towards, warding them off before they could get to him.

Alastor walked outside hoping to get away from the noise and unsavory scene inside. The fresh air soothed his lungs and tumulus mind as he took a deep breath. Unfortunately that didn’t last long when cigarette smoke assaulted his nose. He scowled and looked several paces to his right and saw the same blonde woman from earlier. Margaret was her name. Or at least that’s what Mr. Ainsley called her. She noticed him staring and gave him a cheeky wave.

He rolled his eyes but decided to walk to her, leaning against the same wall she was perched against. “You come all the way out here for little ol’ me?”

Alastor gave a humorless laugh. “Not even in your dreams. I just needed a bit of fresh air and yet here you are ruining it.”

The woman took a long drag from her cigarette before blowing the smoke purposefully in Alastor’s direction. He leaned away with a scowl and waved the smoke away. “I’m not forcin’ ya to stand by me. You coulda gone in the opposite direction for your fresh air. I think you just want a piece of me, sweetheart.”

He gave her an unimpressed look which she laughed at. “Yeah, yeah. Ya ain’t interested. So’s I heard.” She gave him a scrutinizing look as she pulled from her cigarette again. “You’re a strange one you know.”

“Hhm, is that so?” Alastor said absentmindedly. “Are you basing this off my lack of interest in you or something else?”

“I mean that’s part of it for sure. There aren’t many men who can resist my charms. Your boss being chief among them,” she said with an annoyed tone of voice.

“Excuse me, my boss??” He said aghast and emphasizing the word ‘boss’. “We are partners.”

“Yeah, sure,” the woman said with a clear unconvinced tone of voice.

“I’m serious,” Alastor said forcefully. “He may run a large part of the background side of things when it comes to our broadcasts but I’m the voice of our radio show. I have a lot of artistic freedom too.”

“Sure, with your radio show. But all the rest? Ya ain’t got much say in things and everyone knows.”

“What other things?” Alastor asked slowly, worried about the answer.

The woman gave him an unimpressed look. “Really? You need me to spell it out for ya? Look at where you’re standing. The man practically runs Storyville. He owns at least half.”

“I don’t have anything to do with that side of his business,” said Alastor with a huff. “That’s all him.”

The woman laughed and went back to smoking her cigarette. “Whatever ya say, hon.”

Alastor was seething. How dare this woman even suggest he had anything to do with all of that. He had made it clear from the start he wouldn’t have anything to do with it and he had stayed resolute in that. Was Mr. Ainsley going around telling people he was? Who else knew? Had his mother heard about this?

“Why do you think I’m involved in all that?”

She shrugged. “Maybe because he drives you around all the time in these parts. You show up with him when he comes to deal with some of his uhh - more ‘unruly’ girls and the sort. Everyone assumed he was showin’ ya the ropes.”

“Showing me the - what?? But I never go in with him! How would he be showing me the ropes when I’m not even there to witness it?” He said in anger.

“I don’t know. Don’t get angry at me,” said the woman defensively. “I’m just tellin’ ya the word on the streets. The rumors swirlin’ about you.”

“Rumors? What sort of rumors?”

“I don’t know. Like that you’re his protégé he’s trainin’ to take over for him when he kicks the bucket. Or that you’re his secret bastard and again he’s showin’ you the ropes. Either way everyone thinks he’s been trainin’ ya.” She finished her cigarette and pulled out another, hesitating before put them away and then offering him one instead. Alastor paused for only a second before grabbing the offered cigarette and accepting the lit match in turn.

He didn’t make a habit of smoking but right now it was something he needed. The dull burn helped sooth his nerves. “And what do you think?”

“Well, I was leanin' more towards the former but I guess he’s not been teachin’ ya if your reaction says anything. Would explain a lot actually, why you always look like you just sucked on a lemon whenever ya see me comin’ and goin’.” She smoked some more and tilted her head towards him. “I never thought he was your secret daddy or anythin' though. Not just because you don’t look anythin’ like him.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, word on the street from some of the other girls is that they know your mama.” Alastor swallowed. “Say she’s the one with the dark skin, not your daddy.”

“These girls say how they know my mother?” He said, trying to feign nonchalance.

“Didn’t ask,” she said. “You learn real quick not to ask too many questions here in Storyville. Especially when it’s personal. Nobody likes revealin' too much about themselves. It can get dangerous.”

Very true. While Alastor stayed out of Mr. Ainsley’s more distasteful parts of his work even he was aware of the common practice for prostitutes to use a different name then their own when meeting clients. “And yet, you told Mr. Ainsley your name, Margaret,” he said pointedly. It had always confused him whenever he heard Mr. Ainsley call her as such. It didn’t sound like a fake name.

The woman whirled towards him with a livid look on her face. She growled, “Don’t call me that!! That’s not my name! That’s the name the deadbeat woman who birthed me gave me.”

So it was her real name. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “But it’s the name Mr. Ainsley calls you.”

She turned away with a huff and a drag from her cigarette. “Fuck what that man calls me. He does it just to piss me off, the cad.”

The woman, Margaret he reminded himself, looked annoyed. Upset by being called by her own name. Which he supposed made sense, seeing as it was dangerous to have clients call a woman by their real name. So how did Mr. Ainsley know her real name? And why would he keep calling her by that name? He of all people would know not to do such a thing.

“How does he know your real name?”

Margaret groaned. “I told ya, it’s not my name. No one calls me that. At least - not anymore. I hate it. And that bastard does it because he likes getting under my skin. Literally.”

Alastor ignored the crass allusion to their escapades. “But it is your legal name at the very least. And he knows it. How?”

She looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Come on. Like you don’t know. I’m sure you can figure it out.”

Alastor shook his head, not wanting to believe what he already suspected. “No. He told me you weren’t one of his girls. He said he doesn’t use any of his own girls that way.”

Margaret laughed cruelly. “Sure. Technically he don’t. He’s got his own twisted morals on stuff like this and he ain’t broken them at least. He likes to pretend at being an upstandin’ and moral member of society. But if he can’t do what he wants within the confines of his own morals then he twists the situation to meet his own means.”

He was more than familiar with Mr. Ainsley’s own desires to be ‘good’ if you will. When Alastor first made the deal to go into the radio business with him the man had alluded to wanting to leave something behind that was good. He played at being a good man, all the while he would whisper to Alastor how he knew what sort of darkness was inside him because he was the same when he tried to manipulate Alastor to his own ends. Just as Margaret said, he manipulated any given situation in that moment to fit his own needs. Sometimes he would manipulate back and forth if it suited him.

“And how did he manipulate this situation?”

“Ain’t it obvious?” She asked. “I used to be one of his but when the temptation to get between my legs was too strong he fired me and then immediately turned around and offered to purchase my services. Fucker.” She shook her head. “But I accepted. How could I not? I was out of a job and didn’t exactly have too many options available to me.” She then seemed to forcibly make herself stand up straighter and plaster on a smile in an attempt to act unaffected. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes, however. “No matter. Because of him I’m now one of the only independent women here. No pimp. No rules. I get to pick and choose what clients I take and I get to pocket all the cash. Lucky me!”

While Alastor thought it sounded all well and good he wondered how sustainable it was. Not that he condoned Mr. Ainsley’s work or role in the going-ons in Storyville, he did recognize that there were probably many men who viewed the woman as an easy target, a prostitute without any threat of a pimp coming after them when they didn’t pay or were too rough with her. Alastor peeked at a bruise just over the top of her dress.

“I’m sorry he put you in that position,” Alastor said in a soft tone of voice.

“Sorry? Why are ya sorry? I just told you I’m lucky!” She said with a too high laugh. “All the other girls wish they were me.” She sighed as she deflated. “Besides, he pays me well enough. It’s better than nothin’.”

The two fell into silence, smoking their cigarettes. Margaret eventually broke it by braking the not-unpleasant calm. “So,” she drawled. “What’s your deal then? With Charlie boy. I know you got your radio thing, everyone knows it, but why ya riding around with him everywhere in Storyville?”

“I thought you said you don’t ask people personal questions in Storyville?”

“Yeah, but come to find out you ain’t got nothin’ to do with Storyville so the same rules don’t apply.”

Alastor shrugged. “There’s nothing going. Nothing at all.”

She scoffed. “That’s a lie if I ever did hear one. At least try to be convincin’.”

“Well why don’t you tell me since you seem to know all,” he grumbled.

“Happy to,” she said cheerily. “I think ya saw a rich well-to-do black man and thought ‘how’d he do it? Maybe that could be me.’ And then you found out and unlike most men it turned your stomach. Odd, but admirable. Cute even.” Cute? Alastor didn’t think he’d ever been called cute and he didn’t want to start now. “But instead of leavin’ you stayed because there was some part of ya that still thought maybe you could learn somethin’ from him. Maybe you could get somethin’ out of him. And ya have. A lot. But it’s gonna cost ya.”

Alastor raised a single eyebrow. “Oh? And what’s that?”

She shrugged. “How should I know? But associatin’ with him always cost people somethin’. Always.”

The underlying dread Alastor felt at the back of his head that had been slowly building over the past couple of years ever since he first made a deal with the older man seemed to grow in that moment. For years Alastor had worried about what being around the other man meant for him but this was the first time anyone had told him the same thing. Most were far less candid with him. If Margaret was to be believed, everyone thought Alastor to be his protégé or son, both of which most wouldn’t choose to be honest with him about their thought on the old man.

‘Now, now, young one. What harm could a mere mortal such as him do to the likes of you?’ Came the whispered hiss. Alastor saw his shadow twist behind Margaret, its wicked smile gaping wide. ‘He has served us well. But you know that if you are truly worried, it would be more than easy to send him on his way to the Mistress,’ it hissed ominously.

“Oh come on, sweetheart,” said Margaret, drawing his attention back to her. “Enough with the long face. Everything costs us something in the end. Ya just gotta choose what burdens you’re willin’ to live with. I know I have.”

Alastor nodded. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Of course I am! I always am! You’ll do best to remember that uhhh…” she trailed off at the end, expectantly.

Alastor perked up and stood straight. “Oh of course. Where is my manners?” He extended his hand and said, “My names Alastor, dear. A pleasure to properly meet you, miss…?” He didn’t want to call her Margaret once more, drawing her ire again.

The woman pulled the last drag from her cigarette, flicking it and discarding it on the ground. She stomped on the last embers and then promptly grabbed Alastor’s hand, shaking it with enthusiasm. She smiled and said, “The names Mimzy. Pleased to meet ya!”

————————

Alastor felt a thrill shoot through him that he hadn’t felt in a long time. That foolish woman, thinking she could command him around. Only one being could do that and Lillith certainly wasn’t it. And she knew that too and yet she still tried.

Consequences she said. Ha! She couldn’t touch a single hair on his head without the Mistresses say so.

‘Of which the Mistress has done on more than one occasion,’ reprimanded his shadow. ‘Or have you forgot about the torture she gave us in the void?’

“Of course I haven’t forgotten,” snapped Alastor, some of his cheer dying at the damn things continual harping. “But she doesn’t have permission now. She has the damn antidote in her possession. She wouldn’t be dangling that over my head if she had been given orders to harm me.”

‘Perhaps not. But drawing the wrath of Lillith is unwise. Especially in the state you are in, barely standing up on your own. In fact you are not. The only reason you have not already keeled over is because you draw strength from the Mistress through me.’

The only reason he was here now was because Vox bought him time, he thought. And now he was trying to outright cure him with only the help of the little doll. He felt his shoulders droop as he thought of Vox. The desperation in his voice after his meeting with Heaven still lingered in Alastor’s mind. It brought back unpleasant memories from other times Vox had spoken to him with such desperation. “Please -,” he’d begged.

His shadow growled loudly in his mind and abruptly reared up in front of him, causing Alastor to stumble back in surprise. ‘Enough! Your pity for the pathetic man is only a hinderance now as it was then! If you had only followed through with finally ridding all of Hell of him then you and I never would have had to suffer in the void!’ It got into Alastor’s face, its vacant eyes narrowing at him. ‘And you suffer now, teetering on deaths door and he’s standing between you and your one chance at survival!’

“She’s the best damn chemist in all of Hell. If anyone can do it, it’ll be her,” Vox had said. And he was right. Alastor was loath to admit it but the doll was intelligent, at least more so than the moth. Even Alastor had heard about her skill at potion making. How couldn’t he when hers and the wretched moths “love potion” was plastered all over Hell?

How distasteful. But her skill was useful.

A scoff was heard inside his mind. ‘You truly are holding out hope that she’ll be able to replicate the antidote for you? A mere Demon who’s been in Hell for less than a decade? Maybe she can. Maybe she truly is that skilled. But do you really think she’d be able to accomplish it before you wither away and choke on your own vomit from the sickness flowing through your veins?’

Alastor’s ear dropped, falling against his head. The pain in his abdomen was nigh unbearable and he knew what this pain meant. It had gotten this bad just before he had lost consciousness until Vox had arrived and dragged him back to wakefulness. He only had so much time left before the end, and even less time before he was no longer able to stand on his own two feet.

‘You cannot let yourself get to that point before you finally make a decision,’ hissed the shadow. ‘If you become bedridden you will not be able to follow out the Mistresses command. You have to kill Vox if you wish to survive.’

Alastor stumbled into an alleyway, away from prying eyes as Vox’s sad and pathetic face popped into his head. He looked so crestfallen during the meeting when Alastor first arrived, the other man barely being able to meet Alastor’s eyes. He knew Vox was feeling guilty over dropping the antidote, of course he would. As far as he knew he was responsible for Alastor’s chance at survival literally slipping through his hands. Alastor wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault. He wanted to tell him that it was Lillith’s damned shadow. He wanted to sooth the dejection he saw on the other man’s face, make him smile instead like he used to.

He was going to too but that damn moth and Adam of all Demons arrived. What the Hell was Adam there for? He knew the moth was the one to blame, not Vox. It was clear that Vox was distressed by Adams arrival but Valentino couldn’t comprehend the stupidity behind his actions. And then there was Rosie’s comment. “Trouble in paradise?” “Kicking out your third?” Had Vox finally come to the realization what a mistake he made by choosing that ingrate over him?

Did it matter though? Any of the potential inner turmoil amongst the Vees was no concern of his. He told Vox that all those decades ago. Told him not to come crawling back when he realized forming his little club was a bad idea. A pang of remorse shot through him at the harsh words he threw at the other.

How interesting. Remorse. He hadn’t felt such a thing in he didn’t know how long. The throbbing in his chest made him wonder if this was him reflecting on his life and afterlife now that death was knocking on his door. How fascinating. He never had a chance to feel this way last time. His death came so swiftly the first go around there was hardly any time to think of anything else except for the excruciating pain.

‘How useless,’ hissed his shadow. ‘Remorse. Regret,’ it seethed. ‘Those emotions have never done anyone any good. They only make you weak as you wallow in sorrow. You must take action and not succumb to it.’

He supposed that if he did succumb to it it would lead him to inaction and a reluctance to do what he must. Vox’s broken and beaten body flashed in his mind. The man lay on the ground with a shattered face as he looked at Alastor pleadingly with a single eye. He looked so pitiful bleeding out like that, caused by Alastor’s own rage and powers. Even after the multiple decades of only fights between the two of them, not a single kind word or gesture exchanged between them, and even then Alastor couldn’t force his hand. Even with his shadow urging him on just over his shoulder to finally end things and please the Mistress he couldn’t do it. He knew that disobedience would result in punishment and even then, seven and a half years ago, he couldn’t do it.

Alastor began to laugh. A maniacal and insane sort of laugh that jostled his wound and made pain flash behind his eyes. Despite this, he could not stop. It was like a dam had been broken and a flood was washing over him.

Time and time again he had told himself that this was it, this was the last fight. Vox would needle at him and antagonize him relentlessly and Alastor would try to ignore the man but after so many years of friendship the other knew him too well. He knew exactly what buttons to push to set off the Radio Demon into a rage. Each time Vox would push just so, and Alastor would snap, he’d tell himself that he would end the other for good. But at the end of each fight Alastor would walk away leaving Vox with his life. And then when the Mistress told him to end him once-and-for-all, even then Alastor lacked conviction. What made him think that now, when he had barely enough energy to stand, when Vox worked tirelessly to get Heaven to give him the antidote, when Vox crawled on the ground desperately to collect the last remnants of the antidote, when Vox was so clearly withering in guilt over what wasn’t even his fault, did Alastor think he could do it now? Even if he wanted to he wouldn’t stand a chance. He laughed some more as tears fell down his face.

‘You don’t need your strength,’ the shadow hissed frantically. ‘You need only to get close and to stab him with a knife. Any knife will do. The Mistresses' power still flows through you, however small that may be. It will be enough to end him permanently, you only have to deal a fatal blow.‘

Alastor continued to laugh. “And what do you think he’ll do once I stab him through the heart? Stand there and not react?” Alastor laughed at the absurdity of it. “He would pump me through of electricity and stop my heart right then and there. Even if the Mistresses' power may end him permanently, the poison would prevent me from regenerating. It would all be for naught!”

He was cackling as if it was all some great joke. And it was. It was the greatest joke of them all. He was doomed. No matter what he did. And while he desperately did not want to die, he wanted even less to kill Vox.

That was a sobering thought, a realization that while hitting him unexpectedly, was a calming one. When was the last time he had put someone else’s well being before his own? It was while he was still alive, he knew. He remembered the last person too. He remembered her face so vividly.

He could feel his shadow seething beside him, glaring down at Alastor as if it wanted to tear him to pieces. He knew it wouldn’t though. If it did then it would effectively be sealing its fate, killing Alastor for good and condemning it back to the void. Alastor still had no idea how long it had spent in the void before the Mistress decided to choose it to be the lucky one to tie itself to Alastor. He knew that the creature didn’t enjoy its time being attached to him, the feeling was mutual after all, but it was better than the endless madness of the void. He doubted that it would be allowed back out of the void after its perceived failure should Alastor die, whether that be by its own hands or not.

‘What even is he to you?’ It asked in a far more subdued tone of voice. Almost defeated. ‘He’s not your family. You’re not in love with him. I know. You are incapable of it. So why him?’

Why him indeed. Alastor shrugged one shoulder and shook his head slightly. “What happened to you being able to know all my thoughts? You’re supposed to know me inside and out. You tell me.”

The shadow stared at him. ‘That’s the problem. You don’t even know yourself. You don’t know what he is to you or why him. Despite all that you have never been able to kill him. No,’ it hissed in anger. ‘You won’t. No matter how hard I’ve tried to get you to, you won’t.’

Alastor felt disappointed. He wished the damn thing would have been able to give him an answer. It would make things easier. Or perhaps not. Maybe it would make things impossibly harder. Alastor felt a strain at his lips but he knew he wouldn’t be able to frown. Tears continued to fall and he looked to his shadow. “Will you tell the Mistress?”

His shadow stared down at him with its cold unfeeling face. For the first time since that first meeting he felt unease at its gaze. Like so many times in the past he wished that he could hear its thoughts the same as it could his. It seemed to come to a conclusion when it finally said, ‘No.’

Alastor let out a sudden sigh of relief. He didn’t know why he was so relieved. He was going to die regardless but he knew that a death by the Mistresses hands would be far worse than any other. Yes he may die but at least now he had some control and say over it. He didn’t need to die in excruciating pain in his bed. He didn’t need to die as a pathetic weakling. No he could die as the strong Radio Demon. He could die fighting.

‘A suicide mission,’ hissed his shadow. ‘How uncharacteristic of you. But I suppose you’re right. It’s better than the alternative.’ It slithered across the concrete floor, drawing down to Alastor’s height so it was no longer looming over him. ‘But by whose hands, hhm? Who will be the lucky one to kill the Radio Demon?’

Who indeed? If he was going to die he wanted it to be by a worthy opponent. Not some random Demon he found on the street. An Overlord then. Yes, that would be ideal. But which one? He knew he didn’t want it to be Zeezi or her flaming friend. Neither were worthy of such an honor. Zestial would be a good choice; he always was a formidable one and a death by his hands would likely garner very little embarrassment. But the Demon was just as likely to refuse to kill Alastor, not understanding why a friend was randomly picking a fight with him. Rosie was out by that same logic. Neither were likely to deliver his death without asking questions. Especially Rosie after the meeting he just walked out of. He absentmindedly thought how disappointing it was that he wouldn’t be able to attend tea time with her that she had extended an invite to both him and Vox.

Ahh yes, Vox. He supposed there were the other two Vee’s but allowing the insect to so much as touch him made his skin crawl and he wasn’t going to let his death come at the hands of a practical child who had been in Hell for less than a decade. Carmine was too much of an old fuddy duddy that he didn’t want her to do it either.

But Vox. Oh, it sounded almost perfect. A cosmic sort of justice he supposed. His death was the only thing standing between Alastor and his continued survival. For days, decades, Alastor had been contemplating Vox's murder. After everything over the course of their association he thought perhaps Vox deserved to kill him most. Alastor had saved Vox from himself, once upon a time. It would be poetic that the first and only person he had truly saved in Hell would be the one to end his life.

‘The one you’re letting yourself die for is the one you have decided to kill you?’ His shadow sounded incredulous. ‘What a ridiculous, child. You’re insane.’

Alastor chuckled. “Perhaps I am. But you had a hand to play in that. I learned from you after all. So don’t sound so judgmental.”

His shadow didn’t comment. He thought there was little in way of arguing that point. ‘Well then. When shall we do it?’

Alastor tilted his head back and rested it on the wall behind him. He looked to the sky and saw the dwindling light. It was late. He expected the Overlord meeting was likely done, if not close to be. He could always do it now but he felt his hands shake. “Now what’s the rush? I think one more night will be just fine. Maybe I could make some of my mother’s jambalaya.” Yes, he thought. That would be nice. He did so love her jambalaya. And maybe in the morning he could make beignets. Yes, that would be nice too. “I think maybe tomorrow is a nice day to die.”

‘It’s never a good day to die,’ his shadow hissed. ‘Not today and not tomorrow.’

He closed his eyes as he continued to sit there in the quiet. Yes, he supposed it was right.

—————-

1914

Alastor was sitting in his vehicle outside Ainsley’s house. His leg was bouncing up and down as he stared anxiously at the house. In the passenger seat next to him lay a bag of tools and knives. He had used them several times by now, all at the behest of the Mistress. This was the first time he had thought to use them on his own volition.

Over the past couple of years Mr. Ainsley had been brining Alastor along with him to run errands for his other business dealings at an increasing rate. Each time he’d insist that he wasn’t dragging Alastor into the work but each time he insisted on telling Alastor all about it. Keeping him privy to his dealings. A handful of times he’d even tricked Alastor into coming to meetings involving that work.

The first time Alastor saw the man strike one of the women in his employe, Alastor almost killed the man right there. The man disgusted him and he wanted to be the one to rid the world of his evil.

His leg kept bouncing as he gazed down at the bag. What was the matter with him? He’d done it several times before. What was another one? But this time it was different. This was the first person that he had made the decision himself to end, the first one since the very first. And he hadn’t even been able to finish him off. His shadow delivered the final blow, killing his father.

‘Come now child,’ hissed his shadow, making him jump. He hadn’t been startled by the thing in years. ‘Soothe yourself in the knowledge that his soul is sufficiently dark. He’s a twisted one. You will be doing many a great dead.’

Yes, he reminded himself. This would be helping so many people. But it was still different. He knew this man. He had ate in his home and worked with him for years. They were business partners despite everything. He wasn’t just some nameless soul that he was commanded to kill.

‘Would it make it easier if she commanded you to do it? I could speak with her and have her do it.’

He shook his head. “No. That wouldn’t help. And why would she? How would his death benefit her? Would it even? He’s just some man that I despise. He’s no one to her.”

‘Oh he’s so much more than you think. His very soul is what sustains the Mistress. His darkness is nourishment. Every misdeed, every sin. It drives her positively mad in ecstasy.’

He furrowed his eyebrows. “What-what does that mean? His soul sustains her?” He looked at the shadow that was leaning over his shoulder. “What happens to people when they die?”

‘That entirely depends on the person. Those with not enough darkness in them go up,’ it pointed above them with one thin wispy finger. ‘Those that do,’ he then turned his finger down. ‘Well they go to Hell.’

Hell. Hell. It was real. And so was Heaven for that matter. Even with the knowledge of there being creatures such as his shadow, an evil Demon, it was still so hard to believe. If his shadow was to be believed, every one of the people Alastor had been commanded to kill had had a significant stain on their souls. That meant he’d been effectively sending multiple people to Hell.

‘Oh no, no, no child. You are not sending them to Hell. You are sending them to the Mistress.’

“I don’t understand. I killed them. Where else would they go?”

‘Directly to Her, of course,’ it whispered. ‘Her powers run through you and I. Any who die at our hands go straight to Her, baring in mind their souls are dark enough. Those that are not, well they go back to Him.’

“Who’s?”

‘So many questions. I thought you came here to take the old man’s life.’

“I did but if I’m going to do this I want to know what happens to the people I kill!” He cried. He quickly lowered his voice at his volume in the night air. “I want to know what will happen to him.”

‘You never cared what happened to them in the past. Why him?’

“I-I-“ he shook his head. “I know him. He’s different.”

The shadow stared at him for a long moment. What it was searching for he didn’t know. ‘Very well,’ it hissed. ‘But you may not like the answers.‘ He swallowed. ‘All who die go to Heaven or Hell as I stated. A second life, if you will. There is a second and final death that is possible, however, where the soul is torn apart. There are a few ways that this final death is possible but one of them is death through Her power. Even if one has never died and still lives, a death through Her is final.’ His shadow leaned close to him. ‘And a death by you is a death by Her.’

He sat stunned. He had been told that there was an afterlife and in the same breath told that everyone he had killed didn’t make it there. They all just ceased to exist. Permanently gone. He had eradicated them. Every last one of them. Did that mean…?

‘Yes child,’ it whispered into his ear. ‘Including your father.’

His hand flew to his mouth, covering it. He felt like he wanted to vomit.

‘Really now, even after all this time you still feel remorse for that wretch?’ Came the admonishment. ‘I suppose you probably feel bad for the old man in that house too. He’s no different than your father. Worse even. Do you know how many women he’s taken advantage of? Your father only took advantage of one. Your dearest mother. Who knew that you’d be the one to have sympathy for the Devil.’

Alastor put his hands over his ears, trying to drown out the whispers but he knew it was in vain. The shadow was inside his very head. “Stop it,” he whispered.

‘Who knew that you’d still be that same scared pathetic little boy, too weak to do what needed to be done. What was it all for? The power you traded your soul for. Will you just continue to wallow in your own self-pity, too useless to act? Will you roll over and let yourself die or will you do what needs to be done?’

“I said stop it!” He cried out.

And then he heard a distant scream. It sounded like a woman. It came from inside Mr. Ainsley’s house. And then he heard another one.

Alastor got to his feet, grabbing the bag without a thought and rushed to the door. It was locked but he had a key. Once inside he heard far off sounds of what sounded like a struggle. Then there was a loud bang as something heavy fell to the ground on the upper level.

He rushed up the stairs towards the noise. Once on the upper level, he cautiously made his way down the hall. There was crying coming from the room at the end of it. It was Ainsley’s bedroom.

The closer he got the louder the crying got. A woman. The door was slightly ajar and light filtered out of it. Once directly outside of the door Alastor could hear another noise. It sounded like someone struggling choking on something.

Slowly he extended his arm and slowly he pushed the door open. His eyes widened at the sight before him.

On the ground lay Ainsley, flat on his back in a rapidly growing pool of blood. There was a bloody wound at his temple, clearly caused by something hard and heavy. Most likely the metal sculpture by his side, blood at its base. Blood was bubbling from his mouth and he was gasping for air. The man was shirtless and his pants were unbuttoned, his swollen member hanging out. Alastor cringed at the vulgar display and looked away.

His attention was soon drawn towards a weeping woman, curled into herself with her back against the bedside table. His eyes widened when he saw it was Mimzy. Her hair was in disarray and makeup streamed down her face with her tears. She was in her underwear and a slip, torn at one shoulder and barely hanging on. There were bright red marks at her neck in the shape of a handprint.

White hot rage bubbled up within him.

When she noticed Alastor her whimpers increased in volume and she tried desperately to back up further but there was nowhere to go. “I-I had to. He-he-he tried to f-force himself. I was going to l-l-leave because he wasn’t payin’ me. I swear! I was going to leave! But he wouldn’t let me! Oh God, oh God, oh God!” She looked around frantically, her eyes catching on several items that were scattered on the ground. They must have been on the bedside table but fell during the scuffle. She quickly crawled forward and then she stood up, Alastor’s eyes catching on the letter opener in her hand.

She then lunged towards him, attempting to stab him in the neck. He sidestepped her and grabbed her wrist, twisting it and making her cry out in pain and drop the letter opener. He then stepped behind her and wrapped his arms tightly around her midsection, trapping her arms by her side.

“No! No let me go! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you, you bastard! Let me go!” Her cries renewed with vigor, causing her to shake uncontrollably.

“Shhhhh. Calm down. I’m not going to hurt you.” He spoke into her ear, attempting to calm her down but with no such luck.

“Yeah right you’re not!” She shouted, kicking her legs out and trying to throw him off his balance. “I just killed your friend! You’re going to k-kill me!”

“No you didn’t,” he said forcefully. “Look!” He grabbed her face and forced her to look at the old man struggling to breathe through the blood in his mouth, staring back at them with wide eyes. “He’s still alive. You didn’t kill him.”

That didn’t seem to calm her as a whimper escaped her throat. “You think that matters! I’m a dead woman standing! He’ll s-send someone to kill me!”

“Not if he’s dead,” he said calmly.

“W-what? But he-he’s-“

“Alive. I know,” he said, staring directly into Ainsley’s eyes. “But he doesn’t have to be.”

“I don’t understand,” Mimzy whimpered. She was still shaking but at least she was no longer trying to throw Alastor off of her.

“I can show you,” he whispered. “But you need to promise not to attack me or run when I let you go. Can you do that?” He could feel her hesitating. “Mimzy, I need an answer.”

She nodded her head. “Yes.”

“Good.” He slowly released her and when it seemed she wasn’t going to run he walked to his bag and threw it onto the bed. “Look.” He opened it up to reveal his tools. Mimzy stared wide-eyed down into the bag.

“What is this?” She whispered.

He reached inside and pulled out a long kitchen knife. One of his favorites. “I think you know.” He fingered the tip of the knife, feeling its sharpness. “I came here tonight for a very particular reason before I heard your screams.” He looked at Mimzy and made eye contact over the knife. “I came to kill him. You only started early.”

Mimzy was breathing heavily again. With her already loose hold on her calm, such an admission clearly was too much. Alastor stepped towards her, shushing her as he brought his arms up and around her shoulders, bringing her into a hug while he still held onto the knife. She twisted her fingers into his shirt. “Shhh, it’s ok. You don’t have to do anything else. I’ll take care of the rest. You go sit downstairs and I’ll take a look at your injuries once I’m done.” He leaned back to look down at the woman, tilting her chin up with his finger. “It’ll be ok Mimzy. I’m not going to let anything else happen to you. You have my word.”

She nodded weakly but he saw understanding and trust in her eyes. She exited the room on unsteady feet and closed the door behind her.

Once alone, he turned his gaze back to the disgusting man on the ground who stared back at him. Alastor took slow steps towards him and he saw the man’s uneven breaths come more rapidly. Alastor dropped to his knees beside him, clutching the knife tightly. “I-I always knew you-you were just like me,” Ainsley said, a weak smile gracing his face. It made Alastor angry.

He leaned towards the old man, sneering at him. “I am NOTHING like you.”

The mans irksome smile wouldn’t budge despite his difficulty breathing. “Oh but y-you are.” He coughed. “Just look at you. I knew there was darkness inside.”

How dare he smile at him like that when he was moments from death. How dare he compare Alastor to him. And how dare he hurt Mimzy. The state Mimzy was in made his blood boil. He wouldn’t allow his deed to go unpunished.

“Darkness?” Alastor returned Ainsley’s smile with a twisted one of his own, predatory as he pointed the knife at Ainsley’s chest. “Oh, I’ll show you darkness.” The room began to darken, the light from the lamps disappearing slowly. “You want to know the sort of things I’ve done to earn my darkness.” His shadow began to grow behind him, extending up and drawing its claws out. It loomed over Alastor and Ainsley whose smile had finally been whipped from his face. He stared up at the Demon in fear. It filled him with a giddy thrill. “I’ve killed people like you. Several times. The filth of the world that doesn’t deserve to breathe.” He raised the knife up. “I’m going to make sure that you can’t hurt anyone ever again. Not even in Hell.” He paused and cocked his head to the side. “Now, now, where’s your smile? You did always say you’re never truly dressed without it!”

And he plunged the knife into the man’s chest who cried out in pain. His shadow descended upon the man and horrifying screams filled the room. Alastor kept stabbing the man over and over through the screams until finally there was silence.

Alastor was breathing heavily, and he fell back onto his haunches. The darkness of the room disappeared, casting the grizzly scene before him in harsh light. The already large pool of blood had grown, but this time with splatters of it painting the bed, floor, Alastor himself. Ainsley’s face was frozen in a twisted display of horror with his eyes still wide open, gazing off into nothingness. There no longer was a smile on his face.

A gentle but cold hand ran over his back and rested onto his shoulder. ‘You have done well, child.’

Alastor licked his lips, tasting blood on them. It didn’t repulse him like he thought it would. “He’s gone then?” His voice wavered. “He’s soul is completely gone? He’s not even in Hell?”

‘Yes, child. His soul is no more. He’s one with the Mistress now. She will be pleased.’
___________________________

He stared down at the drink in his hand, resting on the bar top. Whiskey on the rocks. It was his favorite kind and he didn’t even have to pay for it. He took another sip from the glass.

A woman sat down beside him, but he didn’t look up. He didn’t want to talk to her right now. He had been avoiding her for over a week now, but he should have known that she’d search him out. Of course she’d choose now, during the funeral reception, to confront him.

“Heard the coppers found him in some park. Said they think it’s the work of some deranged killer on the loose. His cheeks were slashed to make him look like he was smiling’,” she said. The bartender came to her and she asked for whatever he was drinking. He watched her drink a large portion of the whiskey without so much as a flinch. “That wasn’t the nastiest part, though. Said his chest was torn to shreds. Looked like he’d been attacked by some animal if it wasn’t for the knife wounds and smile.”

Alastor took another sip. “So I heard.”

“Did you also hear the papers are calling the killer the ‘Smiling Killer’?”

He hummed. “Indeed.”

Mimzy shrugged. “Seems catchy enough. I think it’s a good one.”

Alastor snorted. “A good one? What like some new song? We’re talking about a murderer, Mimzy.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Murderer seems a bit harsh. I think he’s a bit more like a…vigilante.”

He stared at her aghast. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. It’s not like Charles was a good man, now was he. He’d done his fair share of misdeeds.” She fidgeted in her seat, and he saw her pull her scarf around her neck tighter. “Maybe the killer caught him in the middle of one of them misdeeds. Maybe he even roughed up some poor lady. I think that maybe she’d think the killer was more a hero than some villain. At least to her.”

A hero? How idiotic. What he did was anything but heroic. But vigilante…well perhaps that more rang true.

‘You once told me that you wanted justice to be served when you asked me to help with your father,’ came the whispered voice in his head. ‘Justice can come in many forms.’

Justice. Yes, perhaps this was justice. Or the closest approximation to it. He was bound to his deal, and he was bound to obey the Mistresses commands. He now knew the people he killed were sinful monsters to at least some degree. But then again, who wasn’t? He certainly was. The blood that was on his hands would never go away and would only accumulate over time. But maybe he could soothe himself with the knowledge that he could rid the world of people like Mr. Ainsley.

He looked at Mimzy’s admiring eyes. He didn’t think it was justice but maybe to the victims of the people he killed it is at least some comfort in knowing that his victims got what was coming to them.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he said.

Mimzy then beamed at him, any sort of pain lingering in her eyes disappearing. “Of course I’m right! What do I tell ya, I always am!” She knocked her shoulder against his as she scooted her chair closer to him. “Now, about this club of yours-”

“I’ll stop you right there,” he said with a raised hand. “It’s mine currently but I’m not keeping it.”

“What??” she cried. “But you have to! The Alligator Club is top notch! Why wouldn’t you keep it?”

“Because it was his,” he hissed. “Why on earth would I keep anything of his?”

“Uhhh, because you’re loaded now! He left you everything in his will. You can’t tell me you’re not keeping any of it,” she groaned.

He tilted his head to the side. “Well obviously I’m keeping the radio station but seeing as that was as much mine as it was his it’s my right to own. But all the rest, I don’t want it.”

“Not even the money??”

“Well…” he trailed off.

“Ha! I knew you would. Keeping the blood money but oh, you’re going to be all high and mighty about all the rest,” she said. “Come on, at least keep the club but you can sell all the rest. It’s not like this place was involved in any of that other business of his.”

“He had plenty of meetings here,” he countered.

“Yeah, and so he did at practically half of New Orleans. What, you’re just going to go avoidin’ half the city? I’m not even doing that and I’m the one he had his grubby paws on.”

Alastor felt some sort of guilt or shame at that. She was right, while he was disgusted by the man, he at least wasn’t the one hurt by the man. That didn’t mean that he wanted to have anything to do with any of his work outside of their radio studio.

“Come on,” Mimzy said, throwing her arm over his shoulder. Due to her much shorter stature, he was pulled down and over the bar top. He threw her arm off of him. “You could really make this place your own. You practically already have if you’re to be believed that most of the menu is all recipes from your mama. Hell, have her come in and be the cook herself! Really make things pop!”

That made him pause. Have his mother work her? She was truly a fantastic cook, better than any he’d ever tried. And it would be good to have her not stay cooped up in her shack all the time. He doubted he’d be able to convince her to move out, but he didn’t think he really wanted to either. He knew he was going to sell Ainsley’s house, not wanting anything to do with the giant house where Alastor had killed the man. But keeping the Alligator Club and having his mother run things while he had his radio show, well, maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

“Hhhm, perhaps,” he said.

“Ahh, I know that look and that tone! That’s going to be a yes!” cried Mimzy with cheer. “Oh boy, have I got some ideas.”

Alastor laughed. “Oh? And why should I listen to your ideas?”

“Because you’re going to be wanting me here to be running things, of course.”

“You?” he laughed. “If I’m going to be keeping this place my mother will be the one running things, not you. You won’t even be working here!”

She gave him a glare. “Now why the Hell not? I’d be great at it! Look, they got a stage up there. I can be the entertainment. People would love me!”

Alastor gave her a horrified look. “Entertainment?? You are NOT doing that here!”

“No!” she cried. “Not that, you idiot! I mean singin’ and dancin’. REAL entertainment.”

“And what about your other work?”

She suddenly got quiet and shrugged, looking away. “I uhh, don’t think I’m really wantin’ to do that work no more. Not after, you know, how things happened last time.”

Alastor’s face softened, feeling like a real cad for not thinking of that. After what happened with Ainsley, he didn’t blame her for wanting to leave that work behind.

“It’s just,” she sighed. “If I’m not going to be doin’ that work no more I gotta find a job somewhere else doin’ somethin’ else. And I thought we made a pretty good team, you know, what with you takin’ care of the body and me doin’ the cleanup and-”

“Yes, yes, yes,” he waved her on, looking around to ensure no one was listening. “What happened to you only making allusions to everything?”

She ignored him. “I’m just sayin’ after all that, after what we been through, I think that we should try and stick together, don’t you? I can help you in more ways than one, and not just by workin’ here. If you catch my drift,” she said pointedly.

He furrowed his eyebrows. “I don’t know what you could possibly be implying, dear.”

“I think ya do, Al,” she said. “I think it’s safe to say that at this point I know ya pretty well, maybe more than anyone else does now. And I know that that bag you brought, that wasn’t the work of no amateur.” She leaned in close and cupped her hand to whisper into his ear. “I think old man Ainsley wasn’t your first.”

She leaned back and stared at him with a calm expression. Meanwhile, Alastor’s mind was complete chaos. She knew. She knew what he had done. How could she possibly know about the others? Where had he gone wrong?

She must have noticed him panicking because she threw her hands up in a placating fashion. “It’s ok! Ya don’t have to worry. I won’t tell nobody. I’d have to be a complete idiot to do so after confronting ya like this but even then, I know ya. If ya have taken care of others, I’m sure you had good reason to. I’m sure they were like Charlie was.” She shrugged. “And besides, at this point I’m your accomplice. If I were to try and take ya down, then all ya have to do is take me down with ya.”

That was true, she was his accomplice at this point. While she didn’t actually kill the man, she was the one that delivered the initial incapacitating blow. All in self-defense, of course, but he doubted the authorities would believe the word of a prostitute on that point.

And here she was now, offering to what? Help him with anyone else he killed in the future?

‘She could be useful,’ came the hiss.

Yes, yes, she could be.

He then grinned widely and held out his hand for her to shake. “Well now, that sounds like the beginning of a business deal. What do you have in mind?”

She took his hand and gave an enthusiastic shake. “I’m glad you asked…”
____________

******

The ride home from the Overlord meeting was a tense one. Valentino had insisted on riding home with Vox and Velvette with Adam in tow. Velvette wasn't thrilled but she knew she would lose any argument about the other two taking Val's limo home instead so she sat in one corner, glaring down at her phone as she tapped angrily. Vox ignored her, however, for the looks that Vox received from Valentino and Adam were positively murderous.

He'd managed to piss off not just one but both of the Demon's who had him in a bind. He was already running through ways to do damage control with them. If he got more souls for Adam then surely the bastard would keep his mouth shut. He'd just have to double down on finding souls to appease Adam.

Valentino was another matter. Vox was intimately familiar with all of Val's mannerisms and moods and the tense way Valentino was holding himself, with both sets of arms crossed and the twitching of his mouth as he forcibly prevented himself from letting his face twist into a snarl, spelled trouble. Bad, bad trouble.

His leg was bouncing up and down as he tried to look anywhere but at Valentino who was staring right at him. Vox couldn't help his hand from finding its way into his pocket, twisting the bullet around-and-around. How his fingers itched to grab one of the guns hidden away in the limo and load the angelic bullet in it. He wouldn't do it, of course, no matter how much he wanted to. The phantom feel of the leash at his neck prevented him from doing so.

Vee Tower loomed in the distance, growing ever bigger outside the window and making Vox's rising anxiety worse. He tried to keep his breathing in check but the fluttering of his heart made it hard to control it. Was he going to have another panic attack? Again? What was wrong with him recently, he usually had better control of himself. But as of late things just seemed to be spiraling out of control for him more-and-more.

They finally arrived at Vee Tower and Velvette hopped out without a word. Unbidden, Vox's hand raised slightly as if to grab her which he quickly retracted when he realized what he was doing. Preventing Velvette from leaving would only prolong the inevitable and make Valentino even more pissed.

Vox stepped out and as soon as he did one of Valentino's hands came down on his shoulder with a bruising grip. "Come along, Voxxy. We have much to discuss," he said in a too sweet tone of voice, dripping with venom. Vox made eye-contact with Adam who smirked before walking away. "You boys have fun!" he shouted back. Oh how Vox could just strangle the life out of him. He wondered if the possibility was still on the table.

Valentino pushed Vox forward who was helpless to obey. With each step his feet felt heavier, weighing him down. Once in the elevator, heading up to Valentino's floor, Vox spoke in a quiet voice. "Val-"

"Quiet," said Valentino in a calm voice. Oh, that made things worse. Whenever Valentino was this calm then the fallout was that much worse.

Once the elevator's doors opened Vox felt frozen. Val growled and pushed him forward. "Don't be difficult. You've been difficult enough for today. I'm tired of it." Vox swallowed thickly and stumbled forward. He obediently waited for Valentino to open the door to his apartment and then stepped inside. The soft click of the door closing behind him was heard, sounding loud in the otherwise silent room.

And then the threadbare peace that had been established snapped and Vox felt pain on the back of his head as he was struck and fell to the ground. In his surprise he wasn't able to put his hands up in time to catch himself, falling face first and causing his screen to connect with the hard floor. A shattering sound rang out and Vox cried in pain as the lights flickered.

"You piece of shit! I told you to listen to me but you just wouldn't, would you?!" Hands were on him, pulling him to his feet with little effort. He was turned around and Valentino's snarling face was thrust into his. Vox struggled to focus on Val's face, his vision bursting in a kaleidoscope of colors. "I wanted Adam there but you just had to make him leave didn't you. Challenging my authority in front of everyone and making me look weak!"

A fist connected with his screen causing further damage and completely taking away his vision from his left eye. "You and your fucking hypnotism!"

"V-v-zzz-al. I'mmmm zzzz-orrry."

"Yeah you better be fucking sorry!" Vox was thrown to the ground again, his back hit it hard. This time he was able to keep his head from connecting with the ground again, his arms catching him. "I can't believe you, Vox! I told you to just let me handle it with Adam but you what, didn't trust that I wouldn't fuck it up?"

Vox shook his head but aborted that motion at the sharp pain in his head. "Lill-zzz-ith was gzzzng to t-t-tear the room apart. I haaazzz to do something!"

Valentino bent over and grabbed the front of Vox' shirt, pulling him up slightly. "You could have sat there like a good little boy like I told you to." One of Valentino's lower hands opened up and a wispy red chain appeared in it, connecting all the way to Vox's neck, where a heavy weight settled. "Or don't you remember who's really in charge here?"

Vox swallowed thickly. "I-it's yozzzzz."

The hand twisted in his shirt was released, leaving the chain to be the only thing keeping his full weight off the ground. The collar tightened slightly at his neck and he felt his heart speed up at the uncomfortable feeling. "Yes, that's right. ME!"

The moth stood up to his full height and strode through his apartment, dragging Vox behind him by the chain. Vox was strangled on the collar and frantically grabbed at the chain, attempting to pull himself towards Valentino to alleviate the pressure. He tried to get his feet underneath him so he could stand but every time he got to his knees Valentino would yank on the chain, making him fall.

"You may be the face of the Vee's and CEO of VoxTech but I'M the one who's the head of our little trio. You wouldn't even be part of the Vee's if everyone knew you were just another bitch on a leash like so many others." Val strode down the hallway, dread filling Vox as he stared at the door at the end. "Just one of my whores, ain't that right? I think it's time I remind you of your place. Maybe then we won't have anymore outbursts like that in front of others."

"Pl-zzz-"

Valentino pushed the door at the end of the hallway open and pulled Vox up by the chain, dangling him off the ground and fully strangling him. Vox flung his arms out wildly, trying to grab onto Val but he was too far away due to his long arms. When that didn't work Vox clawed at the collar at his neck, trying in vain to release himself or at least get some sort of space between his neck and the collar so he could breath. Instead, it tightened further and he gasped, unable to suck down any air. His legs kicked out beneath him but no matter how much he flailed, his feet would not connect with the ground or even Valentino.

He blinked and he was no longer in Valentino's garish bedroom but a dingy and cold cell. His clothes weren't the fine suit he had worn for years but a scratchy jumpsuit that offered very little protection, irritating his skin. God, no no no no no! He couldn't be back here! Please no more! Too many hands were on him and he cried out, trying to push them off as he closed his one good eye tight. Not again, please! He couldn't go through that again!

A soft surface suddenly came in contact with his back, startling him out of the memory. He opened his eye expecting to see the faces of those wearing matching jumpsuits but instead was met with a snarling Demon looming over him. No relief came, however, knowing that he had only traded one Hell for another.

Valentino straddled him, wrapping the smoking chain around his hands and pulling tight, making Vox gag yet again. He held onto the chain with one hand, trying to pull it towards him, away from him, he didn't know, and with the other he weakly reached for Val. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out, only twisted gurgles.

His eye fell shut again as he felt his energy slowly leave him. The hard collar at his neck felt suddenly like the soft twisted fabric of a blanket. Ahh yes, finally, sweet relief. The promise of complete nothingness was too much to pass up. He just couldn't do it anymore. They had promised to come back, over-and-over. It didn't matter that he had told them he didn't do the things they accused him of, no one would believe a fag like him.

And then the pressure was released and against his will he took great heaving gasps in. He coughed at the sudden air and pain in his throat. No, he thought sluggishly. He had tried. He'd actually tried. Did the blanket break? Did he not tie them tight enough together? But no, he had, hadn't he? He succeeded, right?

"Shhh, that's it. Just breath, Voxy. There you go," came a soothing voice. Despite the pleasing tone it put him further on edge. "That's it. You're doing so good, baby. I'm sorry I had to do that but you needed to be taught a lesson."

You need to be taught a lesson, fag!

He whimpered. God it was them. They must have come back and the blanket had broken.

"Now, now, Voxy. None of that." Hands held onto his wrists, stopping the weak attempt at pushing his assailants away. "Come on, mi amor. Look at me." He didn't want to but he was worried what would happen if he didn't comply so with great effort he opened his eye.

Valentino stared down at him with a soft and loving look. "There's my, Voxy."

Oh. That's right. He HAD succeeded. He'd killed himself and he wound up in Hell.

Tears began to stream down his screen from his one good eye. A keening noise tore from his throat with a whine, sounding like a sad pathetic wounded animal. "Oh baby. Oh no, come here."

Valentino brought Vox into his arms, cradling him and bringing him close. "I've got you. I've got you." Val made shushing noises as Vox cried harder, mourning the sweet nothingness he had hoped would have met him but instead he was met with literal Hell surrounded by monsters. And here he was now, in the arms of the worst monster of them all. "Come on, Vox. That's enough of that." But Vox wasn't able to stop. Now that the dam had broken all the pain and despair came pouring out. He'd been on edge for weeks and this was him finally letting go. "Vox. I'm serious." The tone of voice left no room for argument but Vox just couldn't stop. God, how he wished he could stop. "I said that's enough!"

Vox was now flat on his back again being pinned down by his wrists. "You know I hate your bitching and crying like a little baby. You didn't even pass out, FUCK! And I wouldn't have had to do that if it wasn't for how you acted earlier. You brought this on yourself."

Tears continued to blur his vision and fall down his screen but Vox bit his lip to try and keep quiet. However, he wasn't very successful as more whines were heard.

"God you're so fucking annoying! Will you shut up already!" Valentino then turned Vox over easily, shoving his screen into the comforter, muffling his weeping. "Ahh, that's better. Plus I won't have to look at your pathetic face this way."

A set of hands began pulling at Vox's jacket, removing it from his body. Hands then moved underneath him, roaming over his chest to unbutton his vest and shirt. That spurred him on and he began to fight back and push himself up onto shaking hands. "Stop it! You keep this up and I'll strangle you again!"

Vox stopped. His heart was hammering against his chest, afraid of what he knew was to come but not wanting to go back to that state of constant panic and incoherence that he was in while being strangled. His indecision about what to do next was enough for Valentino to keep going, unbuttoning Vox's clothes and peeling them from the other. A shiver wracked through Vox's body as his top half was exposed. Valentino then moved to Vox's waist and began on the belt and Vox's mind was finally made up.

Electricity traveled over his body, shocking the moth who cried out in pain. "FUCK!" Vox managed to only get his elbows underneath him when sharp claws tore through the skin at his back. He shouted in pain as the claws tore into him over and over. "You fucking bitch! You're mine, you hear! Mine!"

The chain returned to his neck and he choked as his back arched backwards as Valentino pulled. "Fine. You want to do this the hard way then we will."

Vox's remaining clothes were torn off him in shreds, sharp claws tearing at his skin too in the process. Soon he was completely naked and struggling to breath through the collar. He threw his arms backwards and wildly clawed behind him, catching Valentino briefly who hissed in pain. His right arm was grabbed and yanked backwards. A loud pop was heard, signaling his shoulder being dislocated and Vox howled. "You really are making this so fucking difficult."

Valentino situated his knees between Vox's legs who was desperately trying to close them but failed. Val spread his knees wide forcing Vox's legs to spread at an impossible width, his hips straining in pain. Vox heard the sound of a belt being undone and the fly of a zipper behind him. "If you would just stop fucking fighting then I could make this feel good." Hands grabbed onto both of his cheeks, spreading him and Vox whimpered at the air grazing his hole. A broad chest pressed against his torn back and he couldn't help the yelp of pain from leaving him. Val placed his head next to Vox's screen, purring a menacing tone by his audio processors. "But if you want to be difficult then fine. I'm going to MAKE this hurt."

Pain tore through Vox's entrance as Valentino shoved his way in without any preparation. Vox screamed but his head was soon shoved into the bed once more, muffling his cries. With Vox's one good arm he tore at the comforter, shredding it in his hopeless attempt at getting away. The collar was still around his neck and as such he was helpless to get away or use his powers. Despite this, Valentino grabbed onto his clawing hand and pulled it behind him. Valentino pounded into him at a bruising pace, not allowing Vox to adjust at the sudden intrusion.

Two hands held onto Vox's hips, pulling him backwards with each thrust forwards, splitting him open further. The hand that had the chain twisted in it held onto the back of Vox's neck and screen, keeping him face down. The remaining hand kept a tight grip on Vox's wrist, surely to leave a bruise later on.

Vox sobbed into the bed, any control over his emotions completely gone. He wept because of the excruciating pain. He wept because of the humiliation. He wept because of the idiocy that he ever once thought that the monster above him could love him. And he wept because he was alone. So utterly and completely alone.

No one knew where he was at. And no one knew what was happening to him. Even Adam, who he was sure knew that Valentino wasn't going easy on him, surely had no idea exactly how terrible things were. Velvette had no idea, due mostly to Vox's commitment in keeping everything from her. Despite this, there was a foolish part of him that wanted Velvette to walk through the door and tear the moth off of him. But he knew that would be a hopeless endeavor. Valentino was stronger than her and Vox would be helpless to come to her aid in defense against his owner. Besides, he couldn't bear her seeing him like this, weak and broken.

For that matter, he couldn't bear the thought of ANYONE seeing him like this. Charlie. Husk. Niffty. Rosie...Alastor. God, what would Alastor think? He'd laugh, surely. Tell Vox he told him so. Told him that his dalliance with Valentino would end in tragedy but did he listen? Perhaps this was his punishment for not listening. Or maybe it was punishment for trying to escape his fate while alive. He'd tried to spare himself only to find himself in Hell and in an eternal cycle of the same abuse.

Whether he deserved it or not he wished to be spared from this fate. Valentino was lost in his pleasure, gasps sounding above him as Val thrust over and over. There was a slickness where he and Valentino were connected, confusing Vox for he knew there had been no lube. Blood then. He should be more concerned about the extreme damage being wrought but he was thankful for it in that moment, the blood easing Val's way and relieving some of the pain.

An odd sort of numbness overtook him, his body going slack as he accepted what was happening to him. Fighting was futile and would only make things worse, as Valentino had said. Why did he fight again? To stop this? He knew it was coming regardless. Why can't he just roll over like usual and let Valentino do as he pleases? But every once in a while he'll get these bursts of hysterics where all reason will leave him and he'll try and fight off the one who owns him, body and soul. Alastor did always tell him he was an idiot.

Val began to lean more heavily on him, rubbing his chest up-and-down against Vox's brutalized back. A shiver ran through him at the discomfort but otherwise he did not respond. He didn't even respond when Val released his wrist and his neck, the chain disappearing into smoke. He could try and fight back now but why would he? Valentino would just summon the chain back into existence and he just wanted this to be over with already.

Val's rhythm became erratic, signaling he was close. "Oh, Voxy. You feel so good," came a whispered grunt. More grunts were heard as he began driving himself impossibly harder into Vox. Vox squeezed his eye tightly shut, grimacing at the pain but trying to keep himself still so Valentino would just get it over with already.

And then finally, release. Val groaned and hot cum filled Vox up. Valentino eventually collapsed on top of Vox who couldn't stop the tiny whine at the heavy weight all over his broken body. Finally, Valentino pulled out, drawing out a hiss from both parties, and sat himself up onto his knees.

"Oh baby, just look at you." Vox felt fingers at the wounds on his back and he tensed up as Valentino dug inside them. He twisted his good hand into the bedsheets to stifle the pain. "Come on. Let me see your face."

Vox was turned onto his back with little help from himself. Once the bed connected with his back he reared up, his back arching off the bed and he let out a couple hiccuped gasps. "Easy. Easy, amorcito." Valentino placed a hand on Vox's chest, pushing him back down onto the bed and forcing his wounded back to rub against the fabric. The usually soft material felt like gravel on his back but he forced himself to not sit up again, his breath coming quick and shallow.

"Oh Vox, you haven't even come. Have I been neglecting you?"

Vox's cock lay only half-hard and rapidly wilting on his stomach. Val ran a finger up it causing it to twitch. He chuckled darkly. "Yes I have. But do you deserve to be rewarded after all you put me through today?"

Vox just wanted this to be over and if Valentino 'rewarding him' meant he'd have to be there longer and have Val's hands on him than he would rather not be. But he bit his tongue because saying that would definitely make this worse.

"Mmm, I think maybe you do. Despite being such a naughty boy, at the end there you finally started to behave. I think I'll be nice today and give you some of my love." Valentino's hand wrapped around Vox's cock and he began to pump up and down. His hand was dry and despite the bloody mess that Vox was, there was none on his cock making the motion uncomfortable. But what was truly uncomfortable was when Val shoved two of his sharp claws into Vox's bloody and abused hole, making him cry out. "That's it? That feel good?"

He knew very well that it didn't feel good if the menacing smile on Valentino's face was any indication. His harsh thrusts inside of him making his claws catch on his walls and tear him up even more also proved this. But the hand on Vox's cock kept him in an uncomfortable state of half arousal.

After several seconds of this that Vox endured but keeping himself very still, Val then shifted his fingers and expertly found Vox's prostate. Another cry tore from Vox's abused throat, this time shamefacedly in pleasure. Oh it still hurt, oh so very hurt. But his body betrayed him and his cock began to fill in pleasure. "There we go, baby. You like that, I know you do. Come on, I know you want to come. Fuck yourself on my fingers."

Valentino's fingers inside him stopped but not the one on his cock. Vox didn't move, however, resolutely staying still. Val then squeezed his hand tightly around Vox's cock, holding on so tight that Vox screamed. He tried to grab onto Valentino's hand to force him to let go but no such luck. "I said," Val got close to Vox's face, snarling. "Fuck yourself on my fingers. Or I'll tear it off and watch you bleed out. You know how painful it is to have to regenerate and grow a new cock."

Yes he did. Valentino had inflicted that punishment on him on more than one occasion. With a groan Vox began to move himself back-and-forth, fucking himself on Val's fingers. Thankfully the painful grip on his cock was released and continued its pleasant glide up-and-down. As Vox fucked himself on Val's fingers his back rubbed against the bed, opening up the wounds further and jostling his dislocated shoulder. Pathetic sobs fell from his lips at the overwhelming pain inside and out.

God, please, I know you cursed me to damnation but make it stop. Please.

Thankfully, or regretfully, Vox's cock was responding to the strokes as he became rock hard. "That's it. I knew you liked it. What a little whore you are for me. How pathetic."

Shame filled Vox, knowing the words were true. He was pathetic. So, so pathetic. He'd been pathetic in life, and he was pathetic in death. If anyone else could see him they'd say the same thing. He was pathetic for weeping like a child as he fucked himself on Valentino's fingers, blood coating most of him with a cracked screen and broken body. Vox cried harder as his release was building that he was desperate for and he chased it frantically.

So close, he was so close. It will be over soon. Please let it be over soon.

A wounded cry broke from him as he finally climaxed, cum spurting onto his stomach and over Valentino's hand. He cried as Valentino took over fucking Vox with his fingers, pounding into his prostate over-and-over. It hurt so so much but it was done. It was finally done.

The last couple of shutters tore through him, leaving him shaking in the aftermath of his release. Tears still fell from his one good eye, blurring his vision. Valentino pulled his finger from Vox and wiped his blood and cum soaked fingers on Vox's chest. "Well that was nice. I could do without the initial attitude but every once in a while I don't mind it especially when it leads to something like this," said Valentino in a purr, reminiscent of some sort of completely fucked up pillow talk. "I'm going to go get cleaned up. You made quite the mess, mi amor. You should go clean yourself up too."

Without another word Valentino got up and walked to his bathroom where the one and only shower and bath were located in his apartment. Vox heard the water turn on and Val's whistling.

Vox lay there for several moments staring up at the ceiling, shaking. He felt unable to move but knew he had to before Valentino was done with his shower or risk Val taking that to mean Vox wanted a round two. With great effort he pushed himself to a sitting position, winching at the sharp pain between his legs at the motion. He moved to the edge and slowly stood on shaking legs. Once he was sure he wouldn't fall over he began to slowly walk towards the exit.

He briefly thought of grabbing his clothes but seeing as his pants and underwear were torn to shreds he didn't bother. And he didn't care about his shirt and jacket, instead just wanting to get the fuck out. He'd have to risk the short elevator ride up to his own apartment and hope that none of their assistants or Velvette decided that moment to travel between the upper three levels.

Thankfully no one was outside Val's apartment and no one joined him on his elevator ride where he stood shaking as blood dripped onto the floor. He'd need to contact his assistant to have that cleaned up pronto. He didn't want Vel to see it and jump to any sort of conclusions.

The doors opened to his floor and he stumbled out, his legs even more unsteady as salvation was just beyond the door. With a trembling hand he opened the door, quickly shut it behind him and locked it before he finally collapsed to the ground and let out a blood-curdling wail, causing the lights to flicker and then burst above his head before darkness overtook him and he passed out.

Notes:

Summary of the section you might have skipped at the end:

Valentino punishes Vox for how the Overlord meeting went and rapes Vox. Vox stumbles back to his apartment and collapses.

Please be careful after reading this chapter.

As always, stay tuned for the next chapter.

Chapter 17: A Discovery

Summary:

It's 1933 and Olivia has come down with a cough but with the Great Depression in full swing it's rather difficult for the siblings to afford any sort of proper care. They meet a rich and powerful movie producer who may offer a solution.

In the present, Velvette makes more than one discovery.

Notes:

And just in time before my vacation fully ends I am able to post this latest chapter, thankfully.

This chapter doesn't have quite as serious of a trigger warning as the last one but please still heed the warning. Be safe reading.

Trigger warning: aftermath of rape, implied sexual assault, discussion of past murder, discussions of sexual assault, discussions of a main characters past death, period typical homophobia/homophobic language

1933

Xavier lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling in the dark as he listened to the coughs from the other room. They were great heaving coughs that sounded painful but there was very little he could do.

“She’s getting worse,” came the whisper from across the room. Xavier turned his head and saw Grace staring back at him where she lay on her side on their other couch. “She really needs to see a doctor.”

He sighed. “I know but we can’t afford one right now.”

“I’ve been putting aside some money from the odd jobs I’ve been doing on the side,” she said. “I think it might be enough after the money we get from the premiere of our new show next week.”

Xavier looked at her with a frown. “I don’t want you to have to do that. It’s your money.”

“Xavier, you and Olivia are my family,” she lightly admonished him. “You two let me move in with you when I lost my apartment. Getting Olivia some help is the least I can do.”

More coughs were heard from the other room. He was too tired to argue and truthfully he wanted to accept whatever meager money Grace had stowed away so he said, “Thanks.”

He turned his head back towards the ceiling and closed his eyes as he listened to his sisters’ coughs and Grace’s light breathing. He was so tired, but he doubted he would get much sleep. None of them had been ever since Olivia caught her cough. At first it wasn’t bad, a small cough was all. But then it started getting worse. Olivia was fatigued all the time and chills would wrack through her body. She had started to lose weight too.

Grace and Olivia had been sharing a bed ever since Grace moved in with them. She was no longer able to afford to stay in her apartment, and the siblings were no longer able to afford their more spacious two-bedroom apartment. They had moved into a single bedroom with Xavier sleeping on the couch. The women shared a bed up until Olivia’s coughing got to be too much. Olivia needed the best rest she could, and they were also worried about Grace catching whatever it was that Olivia had.

Broadway had taken quite the hit since the depression started. There weren’t many people going to the theater when they could barely afford food or shelter. As such, the three were struggling immensely to afford to keep their dingy and small apartment. Grace and Xavier had taken to working extra jobs to keep them afloat. Of course, any available jobs were extremely hard to come by.

More coughing and Xavier turned onto his side to face the back of the couch. He tried to stamp down his anxiety every time he heard the coughs, fearing the worst. At first he didn't worry, even when Olivia started to get worse. She was strong. She was his sister. Surely she'd get through whatever it was that ailed her but ever since he and Olivia got the letter the week prior he couldn't shake his anxieties.

It was the first time either of them had heard from their parents in years; not since they had ran away. The letter was from their mother. Their father had died. He had been sick for a couple of years, she said, shortly after the stock market crash. Tuberculosis. They hadn't been able to afford to get him help but the stubborn old man still managed to hang on for a couple of years before finally succumbing to his death.

The funeral was scheduled for today but it's not like the siblings could afford to go home to see it nor did they have much desire to be there anyways. And yet there was still some part of Xavier that felt guilty for not being there but he consoled himself that their lack of money was a good excuse. Their mother didn't know they were struggling too, however. She told them their father was dead but it seemed the main reason for writing was to try and ask for money, claiming that now that their father was gone she had no means of supporting herself. She talked about how they were her children and they had an obligation to care for her. She said they were Broadway stars with more than enough money to support themselves and the least they could do was help her.

Olivia seethed at the claim, screaming about how the older woman had never once cared for them and couldn't believe that she would try to guilt trip them into caring for her. He and Grace had tried to calm Olivia down after she read the letter but unfortunately her rant had ended in her coughing and collapsing to the ground, unable to stand. Xavier held her as her coughs and screams turned into simpering cries about an abusive father and a loveless mother and why couldn't they have just have loved us, Xavier.

When Xavier next opened his eyes it was to Grace shaking him awake, startling him. "I've made breakfast. Go on and get dressed while I get Olivia ready." She walked away as he pushed himself up with a groan. It seemed that his fatigue had gotten the best of him and he'd actually managed to get some sleep.

Breakfast wasn't much with the small amount of food they had but Grace always managed to make their food taste fantastic. She had said she'd learned how to cook with a small amount of ingredients from her brother, learning how to save every last bit of everything. Apparently her brother hadn't grown up with much and had in turn learned to cook from his own mother. Xavier was grateful to the unknown man and woman's skill that had been passed down to Grace. He was sure that Olivia would be even worse off without it.

Xavier got dressed in the living room, not feeling bashful in the slightest when Grace led Olivia into the bathroom to get ready for the day. After years of living in such a cramped space and having to rapidly get dressed in-between acts while on Broadway had led to the three seeing each other in more than one state of undress.

Once finished he sat himself down and tried to force himself not to eat his food too fast despite his hunger. He knew it didn't truly matter in the end but he tried to tell himself that if he savored the food then he'd be more full in the end than if he inhaled the meal. In the end his stomach would still be half-empty.

Despite forcing himself to eat slowly he was nearly finished by the time Olivia and Grace exited the bathroom. He watched out of the corner of his eye as he saw Olivia shake off Grace's hands and she stubbornly walked unassisted to the table. It was the same song and dance every morning. Olivia struggled to gather her strength in the mornings and either Xavier or Grace would have to aid her to the bathroom and assist in getting her ready for the day. She didn't fight their aid until she exited the bathroom at which point she stubbornly insisted she was fine and didn't need help. Her walk was slow but she didn't stumble once as she lowered herself into the chair. Whether that was attributed to her actually gathering her strength throughout the morning routine or she was truly that skilled of an actress Xavier didn't know but she did a decent job convincing others she was well. Mostly.

Others at the theater were starting to notice things. She took a little longer dressing and she'd struggled remembering her lines on more than one occasion. The lingering cough was rather obvious too. Mr. O'Shannon had asked Xavier several times now if Olivia was alright and could still perform. Xavier insisted each time she could despite a part of him wanting to admit to her sickness so as to give Olivia a break. But they couldn't afford to have Olivia be out of work. And besides, his headstrong sister wouldn't hear of it. She loved the stage and she refused to admit to even herself that she could not still perform.

Xavier watched Olivia pick at her small breakfast as he began to clean up the kitchen as Grace got herself ready for the day. He didn't want to push but if Olivia said she wasn't hungry and refused to eat all her food one more time he swore to God, he was going to shove it down her throat. She needed the energy.

"I can feel you worrying," Olivia snapped. "I'm eating, aren't I?"

"Yes, but you're picking at it like a child. You need to eat all of it and not just half," he said.

"It's not like it'll go to waste," she grumbled. "You or Grace would be more than happy to finish the rest I'm sure."

"Oh yes and catch your cooties? No thanks."

Olivia snorted. "Now who's being the child."

"I'm being serious. Everyone knows girls have cooties and I for one don't want to catch any. Why do you think I sleep with men?"

Olivia laughed which in turn made Xavier smile. He missed hearing her laugh. "You should have thought about that before you moved into a dreary shack of an apartment with two women. If you don't have the cooties yet then I think you should be more concerned about that. CLEARLY there's something wrong with you."

"Oh obviously. It's just my cooties immunity ain't one of them," he said as he leaned against the counter, crossing his arms to watch his sister. She'd started eating again, thankfully.

Grace walked back into the room, fully dressed. "What are you two arguing about?"

"How you and I have cooties, apparently," Olivia said as she took a bite.

Grace scoffed. "Oh please, everyone knows boys are the ones with cooties. They got it in the trenches during the Great War and spread it to the rest of the boys around the world once it was over. Obviously."

"Exactly!" cried Olivia. "She knows what she's talking about!"

Xavier laughed. "Of course she'd say that. She just doesn't want to admit she too has cooties."

"Xavier, if I had cooties you clearly would have it too when I kissed you years back," Grace said as she walked to their closet, collecting their jackets.

While that day wasn't one Xavier liked to remember for obvious reasons, he was glad that they had gotten to the point where they could joke about at least that part of it without feeling uncomfortable. "By that same logic, if I had cooties then you'd have caught it that day too."

Grace closed the closet door and paused as she stared at it, their jackets hanging off her arm. "Damn," she said with a serious tone of voice causing the siblings to snort in amusement. Grace shrugged. "Well I guess there's nothing to be done about it. Seems to me that Olivia's the only one without cooties here."

"Oh yes, I'm healthy as a horse." As if to mock her she began to cough. Xavier and Grace grimaced but once done she gave both of them a wide smile. "Clearly."

Grace clicked her tongue and walked towards Olivia, holding her jacket out for Olivia to put her arms through. "Well lets try and keep it that way. Put your jacket on. And your hat. And gloves and scarf too. Can't have you catching anything."

Olivia rolled her eyes but obediently pushed her arms through the sleeves as Grace held it. "Yes, mom."

Grace lightly hit the back of her head causing Olivia to dramatically whine. "None of that. You act like a child and you get treated like one. Now finish your breakfast."

Olivia opened her mouth to back talk but closed it promptly when Grace pointed at her with a glare. That didn't stop her from grumbling under her breath as she finished off her last bites. Grace shook her head like a reproachful mother as she walked to Xavier to hand him his jacket. Xavier laughed. "You'll make a great mother one day."

"With all the practice I get with you two, undoubtedly. Now we need to hurry. We can clean Olivia's dishes later. Mr. O'Shannon said everyone had to be on time today. Something 'big' is happening today."

Yes, he remembered Mr. O'Shannon's vague announcement the day before. The only thing he'd say was that they all needed to be there on time to put on their best faces and for everyone not to embarrass him. Despite the underlying excitement the man displayed, it put Xavier on edge in these uncertain times. He didn't think that the announcement would be the end of their production but he couldn't help but worry that it was a possibility. More than one show had been pre-maturely shut down due to funding. But Xavier reminded himself that at the end of the day Mr. O'Shannon had pulled him aside and insisted, quite vehemently, that he, Olivia, and Grace be on time, if not early. He told himself this was good news.

"Yeah I know," he said with a sigh.

Once Olivia finished he collected her dishes and placed them in the sink as Grace fussed over Olivia to get on her extra layers she insisted upon. Olivia batted the other woman's hands away but still relented. Once they all finished they made their way out of their apartment and down the street. They had to walk, not able to afford money for a taxi but thankfully they had found an apartment not far from the theater so their trek wasn't long. Despite the small walk, Olivia was already coughing at the cold air by the time they made it inside.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Olivia waved them off in annoyance as she got her coughing under control. "I'll be ok. Just give me a minute." She coughed a couple more times into her hand. He saw her look at her hand and her eye's widened slightly.

"What is it?" he asked.

She quickly put her hand behind her back and bit out. "Oh nothing. It's just I'm over here hacking up my own lung, what do you think?"

Xavier huffed in agitation, hating how often Olivia snipped at him and Grace when they were only trying to help her. He opened his mouth to say as much but was interrupted by a shout from behind him.

"Xavier! Olivia! Grace! Oh my beautiful shinning stars! There you are!" He looked behind himself to see Mr. O'Shannon rushing towards them with a tense smile. "I'm so glad you're all here. Come, come, there's someone I would like you all to meet."

"Oh we just arrived," Grace said. "We were just about to go get ready for the day."

"Oh its just a rehearsal. You'll have time in a minute. But before so many of the others arrive I'd like to introduce you all to someone first, apart from everyone else. I'm so glad you arrived early! Now quickly, come, come. Right this way!" The older man still seemed excited like the day before but the slight nervousness from the day before had increased exponentially. Mr. O'Shannon oftentimes got like this before a show. Twitchy and overly excitable, running everyone up the walls with how stressed he would become. Xavier knew it was because the other man wanted everything to be perfect but it still grated on everyone's nerves and caused more than one fight with the director. As of late, that behavior had come out in the other man more often but Xavier couldn't blame him. It's not like Mr. O'Shannon was the only one constantly stressed with the state of the world.

The three followed behind Mr. O'Shannon as they began to take off their jackets and Olivia's excess layers. She stuffed her belongings into her bag as she struggled to keep up, muffling a couple of coughs with her hand.

Mr. O'Shannon led them to the front of the stage where Xavier saw a small group of smiling and laughing men a couple rows back in front of the stage. They were all dressed exceptionally well and a couple were even smoking cigars. Their hair was slicked back and trimmed expertly. Looking at them you wouldn't know that the world was in a depression. They screamed money. It irked Xavier, knowing that there were so many literally starving and barely managing to keep their homes.

Grace then elbowed him, whispering harshly, "Look. That man with the yellow tie. That's Jack Stewart!"

There was a young man who appeared to be in his twenties with a head of blonde hair and a dashing smile. He was sitting next to an older man, leaning close to him and listening to the older man talk. His suit was tailored and his yellow tie looked to be quite expensive. One leg was hoisted up on the back of the seat in front of him and he lounged back looking like he hadn't a care in the world, and Xavier believed it. For sure enough, the man was Jack Stewart, one of the biggest new names in film.

Despite the world climate he had managed to rise to fame at the onset of the depression, managing to draw crowds of people. He was the biggest thing in Hollywood right now and Xavier envied him immensely.

"My God," gasped Olivia as she grabbed Xavier's wrist. "And look next to him. That's H. B. Sellers. The movie producer!"

In his focus on Jack Stewart he hadn't paid much mind to the older man next to him that seemed to have his attention. But now that he looked he saw that the other men all seemed to be paying attention to him too. The man was plumper than the rest and his hair was receding and gray. But his suit was just as expensive as the rest and he was one of the ones with a cigar resting between two fingers. While the man wasn't as recognizable as Jack Stewart the name certainly was. The man practically ran Hollywood. He's the one that rose Jack Stewart to fame.

Xavier looked at the other man, trying to see if he'd recognize the others. While he didn't, he was sure that the others all had some hand in the business and their wealth was from it.

Mr. O'Shannon walked to the front of the stage and nervously cleared his throat, trying to gain the attention of the small audience. The men didn't notice him and so Mr. O'Shannon tried again, purposefully clearing his throat at an unreasonable volume. The men's laughter died down and Jack Stewart even looked annoyed at being interrupted.

"Gentleman, pardon for my interruption but there's some people here that I know you wanted to meet." Mr. O'Shannon extended one hand towards them and Xavier's eyes widened. They wanted to meet them?? "Let me formerly introduce you to-"

"I know who they are," said H. B. Sellers, puffing on his cigar. "Afterall I asked to meet them early, didn't I?" A couple of the other men laughed. "The famous Vox siblings. I've heard a lot about you. People are saying you're the stars of Broadway. I don't get out to the Big Apple much these days but even back in Hollywood people have been talking about you. Jackie here said you two were great in 'A Murder on Park Avenue.'"

"You ssaw one of our shows?" asked Xavier, looking wide-eyed at Jack Stewart.

The man smirked back at him. "Why of course. I grew up just across the river in Jersey. I'd come to Broadway any chance I got. That show was one of the last I saw before I made my way to L. A."

"From what I hear it was this fine young ladies first big roll too," said H. B. Sellers, indicating towards Grace with his cigar.

She eagerly nodded her head. "Yes, sir. I'd been in other shows but it was my first leading roll."

"Too bad it hit right before the stock market crash," said one of the other men.

"Haven't had many great productions since then have ya, sweetheart?" The men began laughing, making Xavier scowl. He felt Grace shift on her feet next to him.

"Now, now," said Sellers, one of the only one's not laughing. "That's no fault of the young lady's, now is it? I'm sure she'd have more opportunities to prove herself if it weren't for this damn depression. But things will bounce back, just you wait." He took another draw from his cigar, smoke swirling around his head obscuring Xavier's view of him slightly. "At least you're all still finding work though. I had some business out here with Jackie and these knuckleheads though and thought I'd stop by Broadway. See a show. Haven't seen any in quite some time. O'Shannon here is telling me you have quite a show coming up."

"Oh yes," said Mr. O'Shannon, excitably interjecting. "As I said before, its based on a novel set in England about three friends who meet rather young and grow up together. Various circumstances separate them over the years until they each die off in different tragic ways, all alone. It's a story about found families, love, and loss."

"Sounds like a real downer," said one of the men. There was more laughter.

Mr. O'Shannon looked dejected but Sellers huffed. "Some of the best stories are tragedies. Shakespeare knew that."

"Yeah I'm sure that old fairy knew his fair share of tragedies," said one of the men. This time Sellers joined in in the laughter. Xavier tried not to shift on his feet.

"Oh don't let them get to you, Shannon," said Sellers. Mr. O'Shannon quietly said, "Actually it's O'Shannon" but was ignored. "The boys are only having fun. We're all very excited for the premier of your show next week. I'm sure you wouldn't mind if we got a little bit of a sneak peek today during rehearsals though, would you?"

"Of course not! It would be our honor, isn't that right?" Mr. O'Shannon looked to the three who all nodded in enthusiastic agreement. Xavier was sure that this would add to the pre-show jitters for the rest of the crew that are sure to be circulating in the week leading up to a premiere but at the same time it was a wonderful opportunity for everyone to show off to two of the biggest names in Hollywood. Everyone would be vying to be the next big star just as Jack Stewart was. And apparently, Xavier, Olivia, and Grace had already caught their attention.

Rehearsal went off without a hitch, everyone putting on their best performances as if it was already the first night. They were putting on a performance for an audience of less than ten men but it was perhaps one of the most important for everyone. It seemed that the men had liked what they saw because Xavier noticed H. B. Sellers and Jack Stewart in the seats yet again the next day. He caught the eye of the movie producer on more than one occasion who tipped his head towards him with a raised cigar and a smile. Xavier tried to contain his smile and focus on his lines but once at home he and the girls all were giddy with excitement for they two talked of catching his and the actors eyes while on stage. It seemed they had managed to continue to capture their interest and they couldn't stop now.

Xavier desperately hoped they wouldn't lose it as he listened to Olivia's coughs through each night leading up to the show. If just one of them managed to make it big then that would mean so much for them. No longer would they have to live like this. And they'd be able to get Olivia the help she needed.

Once the night of the big premiere came Grace and Xavier were nervously hovering over Olivia as they hid her away in a dressing room away from prying eyes. Her cough had been particularly bad that day and to have her start coughing in the middle of the show would be a disaster. "I said I'm fine. Quit hovering!" she barked through a cough.

"It's just you've been like this all day, Olivia," Xavier said, kneeling down in front of her. "Maybe you should sit tonight out. Let Denise do tonight's show."

"Like Hell I'm letting that jealous little harpy take the spotlight on opening night." Olivia coughed some more and then took a greedy sip of water that Grace offered her. "I'm going out there tonight if it kills me."

"That's what I'm worried about, it killing you," Xavier said in agitation.

"Oh don't be so dramatic. Let me just drink my water and I'll be fine," growled Olivia.

"You guys got ten minutes!" barked a stagehand, staring at Olivia in concern. "She going to be good to go on stage? Or do I need to let the understudy know."

"No!" shouted Olivia, causing the young man to jump back. "I'll be fine! Now go do your job!" He left without another word, raising his hands in surrender. "First you two, now him. When I tell you that I'm fine I mean it! I can do this." Some of her heat died down as she looked at her water. "I can."

"Olivia," he said, grabbing one of her hands. "I know you can. Grace knows it. There's not a member of this crew who doubts your talent. It's just I don't want you to push yourself too far. You need to take care of yourself."

She shook her head and scowled. "I AM taking care of myself. I HAVE to do this Xavier."

He sighed in exasperation. "But why? Why would you push yourself like this?"

She glared at him. "Don't you dare try and make me feel like I'm being unreasonable for wanting to go out there tonight of all nights. You and everyone else here is desperate to get up there tonight and show what they got to those two bigshots out there. But me, ME! I'm even more desperate." She clutched his hand tightly. "I NEED to go out there tonight Xavier. I have to," she whispered.

He shook his head and asked miserably, "But why?"

She stared into his eyes, her face screwed up into something anguished. Something forlorn. "Because this might be my last chance." Xavier scrunched up his eyebrows in confusion and felt dread settle in the pit of his stomach. "Please, Xavier," she whispered. "I want to make Victor proud."

He swallowed thickly and said equally softly, "You already have."

"Then let me make myself proud."

Her voice sounded pained. He didn't understand. He looked down at their clasped hands and squeezed. He didn't know what to say to try and convince her to skip the show but he also thought perhaps he didn't have a right to.

This was his sister he was talking about. One of the strongest and most capable people he knew. If it wasn't for her he'd still be in that same pathetic town, miserable just like all the others. Just like their father. But Olivia had always been the one carrying the same optimistic spirit that Victor had left with. He never quite understood where they got it from; certainly not their parents. They were the ones always pushing for something better while Xavier was capable of more but didn't have the same drive. So much of his ambition was beaten out of him by his father at an early age. For a time, he genuinely thought he wouldn't amount to much more than the farms and factory in their home town. But Olivia, she made him realize how capable he was despite his many weaknesses. She was always so sure of herself and in turn made him sure of himself too.

And here she was again, sure of herself. She'd proven to him time and again that she was capable. Who was he to doubt that?

He then noticed Olivia's other hand still holding onto her glass of water. Also clasped in the hand was the handkerchief she was never seen without anymore. It was pure white; or at least he thought it had been. Was that red he saw?

"Five more minutes!"

"Come on!" said Grace, pulling the siblings to their feet. "We don't have anymore time! It's now or never!"

Grace put the glass down and tucked her handkerchief away between her breasts before he could get another peek. "Let's go!" She grabbed onto both their hands and the three rushed off to the stage.

And the show had begun!

Soon enough Xavier lost himself in the play and his performance. Despite his worries, Olivia was in her element. The audience was captivated by her performance like usual. There wasn't a single dry eye in the audience when her character's tragic end finally came. Her presence still lingered throughout the play, serving as the push that Xavier's and Grace's characters needed to keep going on. And when Grace's character met her end, more tears and cries were heard from the audience when Olivia met her with open arms.

Xavier stood on stage as the final act was coming to a close, the last one standing, left alone by his friends. He spotted Sellers and Stewart in the front row, gazing up at him with rapt attention. He preened under the attention and felt pride when he saw Jack dab at his eyes.

He was joined on stage by the other two who spoke to him in his final moments, urging him towards the end and away from the pain that life brought. He was caught up in the performance so he didn't notice Olivia wavering at first. He noticed some loud whispers from stage right where he saw O'Shannon looking on in concern. Olivia then began coughing from behind him and he turned to see her bent over, covering her mouth.

He rushed up and to her side, taking ahold of her as she heaved. Grace attempted to improvise and play off the coughing as part of the play but it was clear that most weren't buying it.

Olivia then looked up at Xavier with wide, fearful eyes and he saw blood at her lips. He looked down at her hand and saw it was coated in it, bright red droplets falling to the floor. Somebody must have noticed for he heard a gasp.

"Xavier..." Olivia whispered to him before she collapsed in his arms.

"Olivia!" he cried in alarm. He looked towards Mr. O'Shannon who stood there in shock. "Do something! She needs help! She needs a hospital!"

And then all Hell broke loose.

He and Olivia were ushered off the stage, her limp body in his arms as the audience burst to life in alarm. Grace trailed behind him as some of the larger stage hands pushed people back as Mr. O'Shannon led them down and outside. Xavier looked around, looking for an ambulance. He turned to O'Shannon and barked out frantically, "Where's the ambulance?!"

"It'll be here in a moment! We called but I don't know how close they are," he said wildly.

Then an expensive looking car pulled up in front of him and out came H. B. Sellers who opened up the back door. "Get in. We'll take you to the hospital."

Xavier paused for only a moment before climbing into the back, positioning Olivia beside him while Grace climbed in too, shutting the door and shouting, "Drive!"

The car pealed away from the theater as an excitable crowd began to gather outside. "Don't worry about any of the road laws, Jackie. Just get us there as fast as you can," said Sellers.

"Was already plannin' on it," said the actor who Xavier only just now realized was driving.

Xavier grabbed at Olivia's face, slapping it gently. "Come on, Olivia. W-w-wake up."

She opened bleary eyes at him. "Xavier."

"Y-y-yes it's me. I'm hhhhere. I got you. I got you," he said in a gentle voice. "And so's Grace. Sh-she's here too." Grace grabbed onto her hand and squeezed, rubbing her other hand up and down Olivia's arm. There were tears in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," whispered Olivia.

"No, no, no. Shhhh. None of th-that. It wasn't your fault. Y-you just gave them one Hell of a performance is all," he said as he tried to force himself to smile but he knew it probably looked more like a grimace.

"No, I'm sorry because-" She was cut off by a cough where some more blood splattered out and onto his own cheek. "Because I've been keeping it from you two. The blood."

"What?" he said in despair.

"I've been coughing it up for weeks. But I didn't want you to worry."

"And you th-th-think this is better! Having you ccccollapse on stage!" he said with a cry.

"Xavier, please!" said Grace, trying to calm him down.

"Couldn't afford a doctor," whispered Olivia. "There was nothing either of you could do."

"W-w-w-we could have found more jobs! Worked h-harder!" he said desperately. "We would have figured something out!"

"I'm the big sister," Olivia said. "It's my job to take care of you."

"No. No. We're FAMILY. It's BOTH of our jjjobs. That's what family does," he said forcefully.

Olivia gave a weak smile. "Someone should have told mom and dad that." And then she started coughing again.

"Olivia!" he cried.

"Lean her forward," said Sellers who reached back towards them. They gently pushed her forwards and Sellers helped to lower Olivia's head down between her legs as coughs wracked through her body.

"Almost there," said Stewart. And true to his word, the car screeched to a stop in front of the hospital soon enough.

Grace quickly got out of the car and ran into the hospital screaming for help while Xavier carried Olivia out of the car with Sellers help. "I'll meet you inside," said Stewart as he leaned across the passenger seat and spoke to Sellers.

Xavier carried his sister inside and a stretcher was brought out which she was placed on. Some nurses came up to him, attempting to stop him to ask question about her name and checking her in. Sellers stepped in to intervene. "I've got this, I'll answer your questions. Let this boy and girl be with their sister."

Neither Xavier nor Grace corrected him when the nurses backed up and let the two follow. Xavier turned towards Sellers. "Thank you, Mr. Sellers," he said, grabbing onto the older mans hand and giving it a firm and grateful shake.

He smiled. "Don't mention it. Go be with your sister and I'll worry about them." Xavier and Grace quickly shuffled off behind the retreating doctors and Olivia. He then heard just before he got to the doors Sellers call out to him. He turned. "Oh and call me Harvey," he said. "I'll meet you on the other side!"
________________________________________________________________________

The lights flickered and Velvette sighed in annoyance. Seriously? Again? She hated when Vox and Val would argue like this. It definitely put a hinderance on her work when the lights kept going in an out. They must really be going at it. Or going at it in...different ways.

She shuddered. She didn't want to think about THAT. Especially while she was down in her lab working tirelessly on this damned fucking antidote for that damned fucking fawn. For Vox.

The things she wouldn't do for that man. But he was her family. The only family she's ever had really. She grew up on the streets of London in one of the most overrun and poor orphanages there. She bounced from foster home to foster home before that, most only taking her in for the check from the government but quickly kicking her out after she caused too much trouble.

It wasn't her fault she kicked one too many foster fathers in the groin or nicked them with a knife. If they knew what was good for them they would have kept their damned hands to themselves. But when people start touching things that aren't there's it's not her fault when her hand slips and her blades come out. That was about the only useful thing her birth dad taught her before he abandoned her when she was just four; how to be good with a knife.

Good riddance, she always said. She didn't need him. He taught her what he could and then dipped when he had nothing useful left to offer her, the damned drunk. She was sure he was down here somewhere but she never once thought to check. Why would she? She didn't need him then and she didn't need him now. She had all she needed here at V Tower. More than that. She sometimes thought she had too much but she'd tell herself to stamp that shit down. She earned her place in this life. She earned her excessive wealth. She EARNED it.

Well...with help of course.

She huffed as she continued with her work. This was her other work, not the one she was most known for. While she loved her fashion and her social media influence she was most happy in her lab. It was methodical work, not that her sewing wasn't. But this was peaceful. Challenging. And helpful...usually.

When she said she would do anything for Vox she meant it. Even when he asked her to do things that made her skin crawl. She still regretted that fucking 'Love Potion'. Ha! More like advanced roofies!

She was trying to make a powerful aphrodisiac per the request of Valentino but when the final product came out it was nothing more than a date-rape drug and she wanted to close that shit down, FAST! But fucking Vox, the fucking pushover, insisted she keep it in production for Valentino. That was the most pissed she's ever been with the man. From Val, she expected that. But from Vox? He knew why she was there in Hell. He knew why she'd fucking hate the thing. He knew and yet he insisted. And she'd caved. Like a fucking pushover too.

Val may be Vox's weakness but Vox was hers. He'd always be hers. After what he'd done for her she'd do anything. Even if that meant compromising her very loose morals.

Well at least she only had the one weakness. Vox had two. Valentino and that fucking Radio Demon.

Here she was again, doing shit for that lightening pole that she didn't want to do. When would he stop asking? When would he get it through his rectangle head that these fucking toxic arse men weren't worth his time? That he was better than them and didn't need them. That they didn't actually care for him.

Velvette stuck her syringe a little more forcefully into the liquid, sucking it up and depositing it into several different vials, each with different reactive agents to mix with the solution.

How many times was she going to do this? Get attached to a wholesome idiot who was too good for the world they were in and fell in love with the wrong man. Velvette reminded herself that she wasn't down here. She had to be. The timeframe between HER death and her own were too short in-between, Hell's yearly extermination hadn't happened. That meant she had to be in Heaven. She had to be. There was no fucking way she would have gotten herself killed by some low-life who had somehow managed to get their hands on an angelic weapon. Right?

Of course not. She was safe, for once, up in Heaven. Her sweet Ashley.

And so she banished her to the back of her mind because she wasn't her concern right now. Vox was. And his own stupid heart. She sighed. At least the Radio Demon hadn't hurt Vox lately. But then again that's because the bastard had been missing for seven years. Not a lot of opportunities to hurt the other when you're MIA.

She continued about her work, losing herself in it. Attempting to find the right combination of ingredients to find an antidote. She knew what her abilities were, she was a Goddamned genius! Literally! The things she could have done in life if she'd just been born into the right family with the right connections. She wouldn't have gotten herself killed at the ripe young age of twenty-three, at the very least. But here she was. In fucking Hell. Working into the wee hours of the morning for her best friend.

Fuck her life.

She began to doze off when her computer began to beep at her. She startled awake and looked at her computer screen as she stared in shock. Surely not. Really? This soon? Was she THAT much of a motherfucking genius??

The lights flickered again. How much time had it been? Hours since the end of that disastrous Overlord meeting. Hours since the last flicker. It was early morning by now. Were they still fighting? Fucking HELL no!

She grabbed the vial, a plastic container because she wasn't an idiot, and threw her lab coat off. She made her way to the elevator to get up to the upper levels. She was going to show Vox what she had done. Fuck Valentino and whatever mood he was in. He could fuck off for all she cared because she had done it! She couldn't wait to see Vox's face!

She looked down. Was that blood? She bent down to see the slightly congealed blood. What the fuck happened? Had Valentino ripped apart one of his workers again? That fucking arse!

The elevator pulled to the upper most level and Velvette strode out of it confidently, not caring for whatever scene she was about to walk into. If the two others were fucking she would just break it up like she had in the past and send Valentino on his way. Fuck him. She wanted to talk to Vox.

She opened the door and she saw a pool of blood right in front of the front door, trailing off further into the apartment. She closed the door, locking it behind her as she gazed off towards the trail. It led towards the more comfortable part of the apartment. The office. The bedroom. The bathroom.

She bypassed the living room and kitchen area for the trail, slowly walking forward, pulling her needles out in quiet succession. She had replaced her small blades from life for an infinite amount of smaller needles. While an individual one wasn't as deadly, a handful was able to do significant damage. And she had countless on hand.

She heard whimpers coming from the bathroom which illuminated the hallway. The door was open and whoever was inside had clearly not registered her presence. Fuck them. What idiots. They thought they could mess with one of the Vee's and not face consequences? Oh if Vox was incapacitated she was going to keep these fuckers for weeks and make them BEG for death.

She tiptoed her way towards the entrance of the bathroom, trying to be as stealthy as possible as she listened to the pathetic whimpers from inside. Clearly Vox had done his damage on the intruder. Good. It would be easy for her to incapacitate them.

Once at the entrance she then hoped in front of it and was wholly unprepared for the scene before her.

Vox stood there with one leg hoisted up on the toilet seat while completely nude. The shocking part was the blood. It was everywhere on his body. His back was towards her and there were several deep gashes, oozing blood. His right shoulder was jutting out at an odd angle, clearly not set properly in its socket. There were more scratches, hollow, trailing along his legs. What truly unnerved her was watching him look behind himself, with a severely cracked screen fully obstructing his left eye, as he stared at his behind which was oozing blood. She saw at tint of a white liquidy substance and it made her blood boil.

He caught her eye with a horrified gaze which she matched before she stormed off.

No. No! This wasn't happening again. She fucking KNEW. And she did nothing. No, she suspected, she told herself. Fuck that! She knew!! SHE KNEW! And she did NOTHING!

"Vel, Vel w-x-wait!" A crash was heard behind her. "Pl-x-ease! Cccxxxome back!"

She kept walking. She was going to tear him apart. That fucking bug. That fucking INSECT! He did this. She knew what sort of monster he was and yet she allowed this to happen. AGAIN! When would she learn? When would she stop the ones she loved from letting themselves be hurt like this? Fuck! She wouldn't let it continue. Not this time.

"Vel!! S-x-stop!" She heard flesh hitting hard linoleum floor behind her accompanied by cracking glass. She paused, looking behind her. Vox was laying on the ground, looking towards her with an outstretched hand, his other hand grabbing onto a loose fitting towel around his waist. He looked pathetic. Even more pathetic then when he had crawled into her room and begged her to help him fix the Radio Demon.

She rushed to his side, unable to see him like that without helping him. He grabbed onto her frantically, his grip ironclad on her clothes even as she watched his right shoulder move awkwardly. The grip was surely painful for him but he didn't seem to notice. "Vel. Please. I'm-x-m finexxxxx."

"Fuck, Vox. Look at you. You're not fine! I'm going to kill him!"

"No!" he shouted as electricity shot across his body, zapping her. Thankfully she was able to absorb most of it with her plastic body and powers. It felt nothing more than like a small static shock. "You can't! Do-xxxx-n't!"

"The fuck??" she cried, staring at him aghast. "Look at you! I know you've told me time and again that it's just how you guys are. That you're just a little too rough. And fuck me for believing you because I trusted you, I guess. But fuck this! No! I won't stand for this! He's about to be a fucking barbeque because I'm going to fry his arse!"

She turned but the hand on her arm stopped her. "NO!" shouted Vox. "I won't let you! XXXXX! You WILL NOT!!!"

"Fuck you!" she snarled at him. "Fuck YOU!" She was heaving, breathes coming quickly. She pointed at him as she shoved him off her, causing him to fall to the ground and yelp in pain. She stamped down her guilt in order to let her rage build. "How dare you tell me not to do this. Not to kill Val! You know what I lived through! Fuck, you helped me kill the bastard who killed my best friend in life for a second and final time when I showed up here. You helped me kill that rapist who murdered her after he beat her time and time again. And here you are, telling me not to act. Not to end that disgusting mans life. Fuck you!" Tears were streaming down her face as she stared down at the only man she's ever cared for. Ever loved. Ever considered family. "Fuck you," she whimpered. "I won't let this happen again. I'll kill him. For good too. Just like you showed me and helped me the first time. I'll protect you. Like I should have done for her."

She turned around and continued her trek towards the door. She ignored the sad and piteous pleas behind her. Please Velvette, I love him. Please Velvette, he's our family. Please Velvette, I need him. It was all things she had heard before. In life. And she had listened to the detriment to her friends life. She'd patched her up countless times just like Velvette had patched Vox up countless times too. She told herself this was different though. But deep down she knew it was the same. And yet she did nothing. Some fucking genius she was.

But no longer would she stand by in inaction. This time things would be different. This time she wouldn't wait until the bastard killed her best friend. This time she wouldn't wait until she had to kill the bastard afterwards. She was in Hell which meant this time she only had to kill the bastard once. This time she wouldn't have to ask Vox for help in tracking down the arshole and ending him completely. She already knew where Valentino was and it would be so easy to rip him apart. She just needed to get her hands on an angelic weapon. Too bad she didn't still have the one she had used to murder that bastard but Vox had said he only had it on lone from Carmine. Carmine wouldn't miss a knife or two now, would she?

A hand grabbed onto her wrist tightly. She turned around with a snarl, glaring down at Vox. He had smeared blood onto her wrist and she tried to shake him off. "Get off me! You can't stop me!"

"Pl-x-ease!" He begged. It unnerved her. He shouldn't be begging. Not again so soon after the last time when he begged her to make the antidote. He should be standing tall, zapping any who dared defy him. But instead he was on his knees, staring up at her with a frantic look. "I won't ask you for an-xx-ything else evvvxxxer. Just this. Do this for me."

"No." She shook her head. "NO! Don't you dare try and guilt trip me into doing this. He BEAT you, Vox. The man you claim to love. What the fuck is that? That ain't love. Fuck him. Fuck everything about him! I don't care what you feel for him or if you'll hate me for ending him for real. But I'll do it. I'm going to! Because I can't do this again. I can't watch my best friend get beaten down so thoroughly that they just accept death. That they accept that they deserve this. Because they don't. YOU don't." She looked at him with a sad and pleading look. "Vox. Please. Don't ask me to let you go through this. Because I can't. Not anymore. I've known what sort of monster Val is for a while but I've acted like I don't. I can't keep doing that. I can't keep letting him hurt you." She sniffled, whipping at her nose. "I can't keep letting him rape you. Because that's what this. Don't try and deny it. I'm not a naïve little girl like you might think I am. I've seen more in my short life than most. And I know what sort of shit this and I won't stand for it." She made herself stand up straight. "Not anymore."

She pulled one more time towards the door but she stopped despite herself at the increased grip. "Stop. St-xxx-op." He whimpered. "Vel, you can't. You don't understand. I wish him d-x-ead too but I can't." What the Hell? "I c-xxxx-an't. And you can't either."

She looked at him. His head was lowered but he looked up at her when she turned. Tears. Tears were streaming down his screen, leaking through the cracks even on the left side of his screen, trailing down his face. "Why?" She asked. "Give me one good reason."

He shook his head, his lips quivering. But he looked crushed as he tilted his head. He appeared to steal himself, a deep sigh traveling through his entire body. "He owns me," he whispered. "He owns my soul." He gulped. "Completely."

The words felt like a slap. Surely she misheard him. Valentino. Owning Vox's...soul?

"What did you say?" she said slowly.

"You heard me," he whispered. And she had. Fuck, she had.

No, this couldn't be true. He had to be lying. But the defeated look on his face spoke volumes. He was telling the truth.

And didn't that make so much sense too. All the times that Vox had asked her to do things for Valentino. All the times he'd defended him when clearly he didn't want to. Val was his owner and he had to do what Val asked or face the consequences.

And here Velvette was looking at what those consequences were.

Fuck, the meeting. That disastrous meeting where Valentino brought Adam of all people to. Vox kicked him out and so of course Valentino would be livid. And this was the result.

FUCK!! And Velvette was in the same fucking building and she did nothing! She saw the flickering lights. She knew that Vox was upset. But she did nothing! How many other times had she been just a floor or two away while Valentino did whatever the Hell he wanted to to Vox?

"I'm going to kill him," she growled.

"NO!" cried Vox. "Velvette you can't-xxx!"

"You just told me that fucker owns your soul and you expect me NOT to kill him?! Vox! That's even more reason for me to do so!" she shouted.

"You don't understand!" he cried, clawing at her shirt. "You ca-x-n't fight him! You'll lose!" She felt offended at that and Vox could tell. "No you will-xx! You're powerful. Oh so powerful but not to hi-xxxx-s level. He'll tear you apart and I won't be able to do anything-xxxx!"

For a split second she felt hurt at that statement. For a while now she had told herself that as much as Vox would care and defend Valentino she reassured herself that if push came to shove he'd choose her over Val. But that was before this revelation.

She's an Overlord. She owned souls herself. She knew that while owning a soul didn't mean that that persons free will was taken from them, at least not completely, if the owner were to activate the soul bond then the soul would be helpless. If Valentino was tearing into her and she was unable to fight back then Vox wouldn't be able to come to her aid no matter how much he wanted to if Valentino activated that bond.

"Please Vel-x!" He whimpered. "Please don't make me watch him h-x-urt you. I couldn't take it-x. You're aaaall I have left. I couldn't t-x-ake it." He lowered his head. "I can't take it." He finally let go of her, bringing one hand to his mouth to muffle his crying while he brought his right arm close to his chest. Clearly the pain from the dislocated shoulder was making itself known. His towel had fallen off him at some point, discarded on the ground and leaving him completely naked, showing her all of his injuries.

He said that he couldn't stand to see Valentino hurt her and yet by asking her to do nothing he was asking her to do the very same. Did he think that SHE could bare to watch Valentino hurt HIM? She was looking at all the deep gashes covering his body, at his hurt shoulder, at his cracked screen, at the fucking blood dripping from between his legs and it made her want to vomit. She didn't see what Valentino did but the injuries painted a pretty clear picture of what happened.

Every bone in her body was screaming at her to go down to the next floor and tear into the little fucker. But...she knew Vox was right. She wasn't as powerful as Valentino yet and she would lose in a fight against him. And Vox wouldn't be able to even try to stop Valentino without suffering further at his hands.

And what about after Valentino had torn her apart? If he had an angelic weapon she was toast. If he didn't then by the time she'd regenerate there would be one Hell of a fallout to take care of. Would Valentino insist on kicking her out just as she had so many times to do with him? Vox wouldn't be able to refuse him like he could her. She'd be out on her own, leaving Vox alone with Valentino. She couldn't do that.

She got down to her knees and slowly brought her arms up and around Vox to hold him, mindful of all of the cuts. He tensed up but didn't look at her. "Ok," she gently said. "Ok, I won't do it."

Vox began to cry in earnest then, throwing his arms around her in turn and weeping into her shoulder. She shushed him as she heard him thank her over and over. He cried and cried and she wondered for how long he'd been holding all this in. How many times had Valentino hurt him like this and he'd been forced to clean himself up on his own?

"How long?" she asked, when Vox's crying turned to sniffles. "How long has he owned your soul?"

She felt him shrug. "About thirty years."

She tensed up and pulled him closer to herself. The entire time she's known both of them this has all been going on. "Fuck," she hissed. "How blind could I be?"

He shook his head where it lay against her, the movement awkward due to his head. "Not your fault. I intentionally kept it f-x-rom you. From everyone. Couldn't bare any-x-one knowing."

"Yeah but what about Val? It's not like him to keep something like this a secret."

Vox sniffled. "He can't tell anyone. It's the one stipulation I-x put in for myself."

Well at least there's that, she thought. But fuck, the only one? Really? He just signed his soul away completely to Valentino and didn't ask for anything else? Why the Hell would Vox, one of the smartest people she knew, do something like that?

She had so many swirling questions bubbling up inside of her, just begging to be asked. But now wasn't the time. Vox was bleeding all over his floor. And she felt that asking those questions now would be too much for him. She's never been the best with her words and with her still reeling from this revelation she didn't trust herself not to phrase any of her questions badly and make it sound like she was blaming Vox. Because she didn't blame him. The only one to blame was Val.

"Come on," she said. "Let's get you to the bathroom and cleaned up." She helped him to his feet as gently as she could but he still hissed through his teeth at the pain. She grimaced in sympathy but began slowly leading him back towards the bathroom.

"You-you don't have to you kno-x-w. I've done this enough times for myself. I don't want to make you-"

"Shut up," she cut him off but not harshly. "You've done it on your own but you never should have had to." He never should have had the need to be patched up in the first place but they both already knew that. "I've stitched you up enough times and you know I'm better with a needle than you. Besides, it'll be awfully hard for you to get to the wounds on your back."

Either she had successfully convinced Vox or he just didn't have the energy to argue for he said nothing in response. Perhaps it was a bit of both.

Once in the bathroom she had Vox sit down on the toilet and gave him a towel to cover himself, putting both at ease at least slightly in giving him at least a small shred of decency back. She then went about grabbing one of the first aid kits she knew was in his drawers. She hated that all of the kits hidden away in different parts of the tower were a necessity but she was grateful she didn't have to leave Vox.

The first thing she did was set his shoulder back in place, apologizing at the brutal motion as Vox cried out in pain. But at least it was back in place and now his body could start repairing the damage. She then went about sewing each of the several cuts littering his body. Now that she had a more proper look she could see just how much of a wreck his back was. It had been torn to shreds and there were even useless pieces of skin barely hanging on that she cut off. She listened to Vox whimper and try to muffle the sounds with his fist but they were still very much audible. Velvette had to constantly remind herself to take deep breaths to try and calm herself down because if she let her temper get the best of her then she was going to go stab Valentino right that second.

Once finished with his back she moved on to the other scratches on his legs, shallower and fewer than the rest. "Any other injuries?" she asked pointedly. She remembered the blood she saw in-between his legs but didn't want to ask about it directly. Vox understood her meaning, however, for he swallowed and said, "It's fine. It's al-xx-ready healed enough. It's no longer bleeding."

She nodded her head, accepting the answer. She didn't know if he was telling the truth but she didn't exactly want to push the matter; and not just for Vox's sake but her own. She didn't know what she'd be able to do to help with that injury anyways. She did know that he was probably desperately in want of a shower, however, for several reasons. But he couldn't shower right now, not with all the stitches. Instead he'd have to settle for a sponge bath.

Velvette put the kit away, discarding the pair of rubber gloves she had donned. She grabbed a washcloth and got it wet with some soap. She began to gently wash Vox, cleansing him of the now dried blood and whatever else was on him that she did NOT want to think about. Once she finished wiping the body parts she could see she threw the now red-stained cloth into the sink and got a new washcloth and got it wet and soapy again. "Here," she said, handing Vox the cloth. "I'll go get you some clothes. Let me know when you're done and I'll come back in." She didn't wait for a response before she made her retreat, closing the door mostly and leaving only a crack.

In Vox's bedroom she finally let out a deep sigh and bent over, her hands on her knees, bracing herself. She forced herself to take a couple measured and deep breaths; air through her nose and out through her mouth. "Fuck," she whispered. "Fuck!" she ground out louder, but still quiet enough so Vox wouldn't hear her. "Get it together, Velvette. Don't you dare fucking lose your cool. Vox needs you. He needs you."

She pushed herself back up and grabbed the comfiest clothes Vox owned; an old sweatshirt and raggedy pajama bottoms. They were hideous and she'd been trying to get him to get rid of them for years but now more than ever she was glad that he had refused.

She then made her way back to the hallway and stood beside the bathroom door, waiting. She could hear small whimpers and sniffles as Vox cleaned up the more intimate parts of his body. Velvette closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall, internally calling herself a coward for not being able to help him with this. Would he even want her to? Probably not but she hated herself for not being able to do more.

After listening to him for a couple of minutes she finally knocked on the door next to her. She heard Vox gasp. "It's just me. Are you done? Or do you need more time?"

"I-I'm done. Y-x-ou can come in."

She entered and she saw him holding a towel around his waist as he stood hunched over at the sink. "I got you some clothes. I'll just step out while you get changed."

She turned to leave again but Vox said, "Wait." She paused. "Do you-" he gulped. "Do you think you can help me? M-x-y shoulder still hurts and I also don't want to xxxx-pull any stitches."

"Of course."

She tried to look away from him as much as possible as he discarded the towel and she helped him step into the pajama bottoms. He hissed as she helped him pull his arms through the sleeves of the sweatshirt. "Do you have any spare screens?" she asked, looking at his severely cracked face.

He nodded. "I have o-x-ne in my room."

"Then let's get that taken care of." She led him to his bedroom, having him sit on the bed as she went into his closet where he told her the screen was at. Just as she'd helped stich him up on several occasions, she'd also helped him replace his screen before. It always unnerved her when she had to essentially take his entire bloody face away and could see inside his literal head. In the past she'd told him as such too but felt guilty when she had due to the dejected look he gave her. She knew he was insecure about his entirely unhuman head. She never made that comment again.

She watched as Vox's new screen came to life, both of his eyes blinking a couple of times as his face flickered before settling. With him covered up in his sweatshirt and pajama bottoms and his face newly repaired she could almost fool herself into thinking that everything was entirely normal and she hadn't just spent the past several hours fixing him up. God what time even was it? She could see sunlight slowly creeping into Hell's sky. Fuck. She'd been up all fucking night.

Suddenly she felt unbelievably exhausted. The adrenaline was beginning to leave her system. She needed rest but she really didn't want to go back to her apartment and leave Vox here alone. Shit. And there was all that blood on Vox's floors and the mess in the bathroom. She needed to clean that up because she wasn't going to make Vox do it. God how much longer was this nightmare going to last?

Velvette was pulled from her thoughts when she felt Vox take ahold of her hand. She blinked down at him but he didn't meet her gaze. "Will you stay here? I'm tired but I just- I don't want to..." He trailed off at the end. She understood. He didn't want her to leave either.

"I gotta clean everything up."

"Later," he said. She didn't feel like arguing, she was too tired and if this is what Vox needed then she'd give it to him. Just like always, she'd give him anything.

"Scoot," she said.

He moved to the other side of the bed, crawling under the blankets. She kicked off her shoes and got underneath too. In unison they were drawn towards each other, arms wrapping around one another. Velvette never thought of herself as a particularly touchy person but in that moment she wanted nothing more than to be able to hold Vox. Hold him and know he was safe, or as safe as he could be with a monster just one floor away. She'd only held onto Vox like this once before; the night after he'd helped her track down her own monster and kill him for good. She'd wept in his arms, unbelievably relieved to have rid herself of the bastard that had not only murdered her best friend but killed her too. Unfortunately, Velvette wasn't able to offer Vox the same sort of relief.

And then she remembered the reason why she came up to Vox's apartment in the first place. The vial still in her pocket felt heavy now. The same excitement she felt earlier had vanished.

She fished the vial out of her pocket and brought it between herself and Vox. His eyebrows were furrowed in confusion until realization slowly hit as he looked closely at the golden liquid. He looked at her in shock and whispered, "Is this...?"

She nodded. "Yep. Looks like it worked. Or at least I think so. It's untested, of course, so until I can run a couple more tests-"

She was cut off when Vox launched himself towards her, grabbing onto her frantically. His face was mashed up against her shoulder and she could feel him shaking. "Thank you. Thank you," he said between hiccupping sobs.

Perhaps she wasn't able to give him the same relief he once had to her but maybe for now, this was close enough. She brought her arms back up around him and held him as he cried once again.

Yes, for now this will be good enough. She didn't even mind for once that the vial and its contents were meant to heal the bastard Radio Demon and keep him from dying. Because if it worked, it truly worked, then she was going to make that arsehole help her kill motherfucking Valentino.
______________________________________________________________

Tuberculosis. That's what the doctors had said. Olivia had tuberculosis. Just like their father had had.

Their father managed to live with it for a couple of years before finally dying. Maybe Olivia could survive with it long enough for him to get her the help their father never got.

But how, he thought as he held his head in his hands. They couldn't afford a doctor. He didn't even know how they were going to be able to afford Olivia's hospital visit. She'd been there for a couple of days before the doctors sent them home, saying there was nothing more they could do at that time and that Olivia needed to see a specialist. They said they'd be in touch about the bill. That was a week ago.

He listened to Olivia cough in her room while he sat at the kitchen table and worried. He and Olivia hadn't gone back to Broadway, their understudy's taking over. Grace was the only one currently still part of the show. Xavier knew he needed to go back because they needed the money and being down two incomes only made things worse. But he couldn't bare to leave Olivia alone right now and he'd been spending a fair amount of time trying to find some sort of specialist that wouldn't cost a fortune.

Their phone began to ring and Xavier rushed to answer it, hoping it was one of the doctors he'd tried consulting. Unfortunately it wasn't one of the specialists he was hoping for but the hospital calling about the bill. Fuck. But then the woman on the line surprised him and he stood there in shock as he listened to what she had to say.

The bill had been taken care of. Completely. By a Mr. Sellers.

Xavier thanked the woman and then hung up, standing there in shock. He couldn't believe it. On the counter lay a piece of paper with a hotel name and an address. The other man had given it to Xavier that first night at the hospital as he was still reeling from the news of Olivia having tuberculosis. He had told Xavier that that was where he was staying in town for the next couple of weeks while on business. He'd told Xavier to stop by when he could but he didn't take it seriously. The man was just being polite, right?

But that was stupid. Why the Hell would a rich and powerful movie producer care one iota about being "polite" to the likes of Xavier? The man had already done so much by helping get Olivia to the hospital so quickly, him and Stewart. And this? This went above and beyond that.

There was more coughing. He went to go peek into the bedroom and he saw Olivia asleep with her back to the door. Her breathing was labored and he could hear her groan. He couldn't lose her. He couldn't lose another sibling.

His mind made up he wrote her a note to explain where he was once she awoke and put his jacket on before exiting the apartment. Thankfully it seemed that the hotel that Sellers was staying at didn't seem to be that far from Broadway and in turn their apartment. Soon enough, he found himself outside one of the more luxurious hotels he had seen.

Inside, he made his way to the front desk to speak with the employee there.

"How can I help you, sir?"

"Uhm, yes, hi," he said nervously. "I'm hear to see Mr. Sellers. He's one of your guests here."

The man behind the desk seemed to give him a look and Xavier just hoped that he wasn't thinking that Xavier was some crazy fan. But then the mans eyes widened slightly. "Oh I know you! You're one of the Vox siblings from Broadway! It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir." Vox gave a strained smile but he thanked the man. "Let me check to see if Mr. Sellers is here. Give me one moment please and I'll have someone check his room."

"Thank you."

Before the man could do so, however, there was a mans voice from across the lobby who called his name. "Xavier Vox." He turned and saw Jack Stewart there, walking towards him. "Well, well, well, you finally decided to make an appearance. Harvey was beginning to worry you wouldn't show up. He was going to go down to the theater and talk to Shannon to get your address."

He chose not to correct Stewart on Mr. O'Shannon's name, not wanting to offend the man. He was grateful even more now that he had decided to come down to the hotel himself because the last thing he wanted was to have H. B. Sellers of all people to see his, Olivia, and Grace's dingy living quarters. "I apolgize. I've just been...busy."

Stewart grimaced. "Yes, I'm sure you have been. How's your sister?"

"She's...alright."

He hummed and then turned to the employee. "It's alright, I've got him from here. I'll take him up to Harvey's myself."

"Of course, Mr. Stewart."

The actor led Xavier to an elevator and he wasn't even surprised when they made their way to the top floor. "Thank you for helping me," Xavier said. "And I really do apologize. I truly meant to come sooner," he lied.

Stewart snorted. "It's alright. I know you weren't planning on comin', no need to lie. Although, rather surprising if you ask me. I mean years back when Harvey first gave me his address and told me to come by I could barely wait a day before showin' up at his front door."

Xavier raised his eyebrows. "He did the same to you?"

Stewart smiled. "Of course! He does that with all the young talent he sees something special in."

Just a week ago Xavier would have been thrilled at hearing that news but he thought of Olivia. He was here because the other man had helped him and Olivia immensely. He needed to thank the man and ask why. But then again, maybe this was his answer.

"I, uh, didn't realize."

"Well you do now and now you can be prepared. Brace yourself."

Xavier furrowed his eyebrows. "I don't think I understand your meaning."

Stewart turned to look at him and gave him an odd look. Like he couldn't believe Xavier. After a moment he then shook his head. "Lord, you really have no idea do you?" Before Xavier could respond the elevator came to a halt on the top floor. "Come on."

He followed Stewart who then stopped outside of the penthouse suite. He looked at Xavier and said, "Look, a word of advice. There's a lot of things people have to do that they don't particularly...like in order to get what they want." He leaned in close. "Despite you not having plans to come here I know that you want to be a star otherwise you wouldn't be on Broadway." Sure, Xavier couldn't deny that. "And on top of that you want to help your sister, don't you?"

Xavier nodded earnestly. "Of course."

"Then keep that in mind. It'll make things easier." And then he turned and knocked.

Sellers greeted Stewart with a welcoming grin and a hug. He saw Xavier and then in turn grabbed his shoulder and gave an affectionate squeeze. He was ushered in but saw that Stewart remained on the other side of the door. He made eye-contact with the actor as the door was closed, leaving Xavier alone with the producer.

"Xavier, I was beginning to wonder if you were going to show up." Sellers walked further into his suite, opening up to the largest hotel room he had ever seen. The room was larger than his entire apartment.

"Uh yes, I'm sorry about that, sir. I didn't mean to cause any offense," he said, rubbing his arm in nervousness.

Sellers waved him off. "No offense taken, I assure you. I understand that you have had a lot on your plate with your sister. How is she by the way?"

Xavier shrugged. "She's uhh," he sighed. "I'll be honest, she's not good. I don't know what to do."

"Well she needs to be seen by a specialist, doesn't she?"

Xavier nodded. "Yes, I mean sure. Of course. It's just..." He trailed off.

"You can't afford it, can you?" asked Sellers knowingly.

Xavier hated to admit it but he made himself nod. "Y-yes."

"Now, now, there's no shame in it," said Sellers, walking towards him and grabbing his shoulder again in support. He led Xavier to a couch which he gently pushed him into. Sellers then walked towards a small table where Xavier noticed a glass bottle with a bronze liquid inside. "The depression has hit everyone hard. You and your sister aren't the only ones." He began to pour two glasses of the liquid.

"Yes, uhh, it's been tough. Especially when Olivia started getting her cough."

"I could imagine. Knowing she needed help but not being able to get it for her because of money." He walked back over to Xavier with the two glasses, handing one to Xavier. He looked down at it. Whiskey. He could smell it. "I won't tell if you won't," said Sellers with a wink before sitting next to him.

Xavier gave a weak smile but made no comment, instead taking a generous sip without flinching. Sellers gave a pleased hum and then chuckled. "Seems to me I didn't need to give any sort of warning. You're more than familiar with it, I see." It wasn't a question but Xavier nodded. "That's good. Very good. I like a man who knows how to keep their mouth shut about these sorts of things. It's a good quality to have."

Xavier's eyebrows drew closer together and fidgeted slightly in his seat. He didn't know what to say to that so instead he chose to ignore it. "Yes, well, uhm, about my sister and-and her hospital visit. I wanted to talk to you-"

Sellers interrupted him with a wave of his hand. "Oh don't mention it. I know that by now the hospital had to have contacted you and let you know I took care of the bill. It was my pleasure! Truly."

Xavier scooched to the edge of the couch and turned more fully towards Sellers. "Yes but why? I don't understand why you'd do something like that."

He shrugged. "Because I can." And he took a sip.

"Yes, but you can do that for anyone." Xavier pushed. "It's not like Olivia's the only person with significant hospital bills that she can't afford. There's countless others out there."

"Yes, but they're not one of the stunning Vox siblings. They're not your sister."

Xavier shook his head. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Sellers looked at Xavier with a raised eyebrow. "Really now? Dont' tell me you don't have any sort of idea."

Stewart had said that Sellers gives out his address and information to young talent he found special. Maybe him paying for Olivia's bills truly was for that very same reason. Sellers leaned towards him and said, "You and your sister were brilliant up on that stage on opening night. Truly spectacular. Even had a cold-hearted old man like myself moved to tears." He laughed. "It's too bad that things were cut short at the end but otherwise you two were wonderful."

"Thank you, sir," Xavier whispered.

"What did I tell you, call me Harvey! I prefer all of my talented young stars to do so," he said with a smile.

"But I-I'm not-"

"Not yet, you're not. But I'd like that to change." Sellers leaned back, laying his free hand on the back of the couch, resting behind Xavier. "You've got talent, Xavier. Real talent. And I'd like to have you come to Hollywood with me. I could make you a star."

Xavier's eye's were wide and he felt his heart skip a beat. "I - that seems, I mean just...wow! I don't know what to say!"

"Just say yes!" he said while laughing. "You don't need to say anything else!"

"But-but I mean, what about Olivia and-and-"

"You're sister will be well taken care of, by you this time, if you say yes. You'll be able to afford the very best doctors this nation has to offer. The two of you will never want for anything again." He shrugged nonchalantly. "And who knows, maybe once she gets better and she won't have to worry about collapsing at a moments notice then she could come to Hollywood too and you two could be known as the great Vox siblings once again."

My God it sounded like a dream. Victor's dream. Olivia and he could become stars on film and not just Broadway. And on top of that, Olivia would live. This was what they had been waiting for. All their suffering and struggling would finally pay off. He thought of how Olivia was before she got sick, smiling and laughing and healthy. He just wanted her to be happy and healthy again. It's what he wanted more than anything.

He then thought about Grace. "That sounds...fantastic, sir. I-I mean Harvey. I can't thank you enough, truly. But uhh," he hesitated. "If you don't mind me asking, uhm, what about...Grace?"

He nodded and sipped on his drink, reminding Xavier of his own who in turn took a sip. "You're friend has potential, that's for sure. I just don't know if she's meant for film just yet." Xavier wanted to argue but he thought of Olivia and kept his mouth shut. "I'd like to see more of her first before I agree to anything."

Something of the mans wording seemed strange. "You'd like to see more shows on Broadway with her?"

Sellers tilted his head back and forth. "Among other things."

Xavier furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "I'm not quite following."

Sellers smirked and looked down at his drink. There was only a sip left which he quickly finished off before placing the glass on the table in front of him. Once he leaned back Xavier noticed that the man was closer. He repositioned his arm back on the back of the couch and placed a firm hand on his shoulder which he slowly squeezed.

"You know," he said slowly. "One of the things that I kept hearing about you and your sister was just how gorgeous the two of you were. You two could practically be twins, they said. Jackie said the same thing. High cheek bones, dark black hair, ivory skin, dashing smiles. The thing that nobody really told me though was just how blue your eyes are." Sellers other hand came up and lightly touched Xavier's cheek, just below his left eye. "Yours sisters are brown but your eyes, boy-oh-boy, they are the color of the sky on a clear and sunny day."

Xavier reared back slightly and Sellers slowly lowered his hand back to his lap. The older mans almost reverent look on his face hardened slightly. "You and your sister are talented but your looks...you're made for film. Your friend Grace isn't bad to look at but she leaves something to be desired. But if I could meet her privately, and she shows me just HOW much she wants to be a star too, well..." Sellers raised his hand and one shoulder in a shrug.

White-hot anger suddenly filled Xavier on his friends behalf. He stood quickly in indignation and outrage. "Absolutely not. Grace is a respectable woman and I will not stand for you to talk about her in such a degrading way."

"Well then by all means sit back down," Sellers said casually making Xavier fume further which the other man noticed. The older man's face darkened then. "I said. Sit."

Despite himself Xavier lowered himself slowly back to the couch, sitting as far away from Sellers as he could which unfortunately wasn't far.

Sellers then plucked the whiskey glass out of Xavier's hand and began to drink from it as well. "You know I'm surprised by you. I wouldn't have thought that you of all people would be so indignant at such things."

"And why the Hell wouldn't I be?" he asked through his teeth.

Sellers laughed. "You and your sisters good looks and talent weren't the only things I had heard about you two. There's been whispers. Talk of you two frequenting establishments that are known for their more...illicit dealings." As if to punctuate the fact Sellers took a drink of the whiskey.

Xavier snorted. "You knew I wouldn't bat an eye at being offered a whiskey, so what. It's not like more than half of America doesn't partake."

"Which is part of my very point," Sellers stated. "It's not like drinking alcohol isn't part of most American's everyday life. It's illegal and yet they partake. I do it. You do it. Your sister does it. It's a taboo and yet we do it. Just like we partake in other types of taboos too." He swallowed the rest of Xavier's drink and then brought the glass down more forcefully onto the table than he had his own glass. As he did so he grabbed onto the back of Xavier's neck with a firm grip. Xavier tensed up but did not move otherwise.

"Sex is another sort of taboo that all people partake in. Of course, sex in and of itself isn't taboo but there's plenty of forms of sex that are. Pre-marital sex. Sex in exchange for something one desires. Homosexual sex..." He trailed off and looked at Xavier pointedly. He swallowed. "It's all things that society says is taboo and yet..." He leaned forward and whispered. "We partake."

Xavier was breathing heavily now. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't, don't, don't," said Sellers, shaking his head with his eye's closed tight. "Don't." He said more forcefully, placing his hand on Xavier's chest and with his other squeezing his neck tighter. He opened his eyes and gave Xavier a hard look. "Don't you lie to me. I hate it when people lie. I know what sort of person you are and the things you've done. And I wonder what the public would think."

Xavier's eye's widened in fear and worry. "It's ok," said Sellers gently. "I won't tell if you won't." In a mock imitation of when he said those words earlier, Seller than winked again.

Despite the fear still swirling inside of Xavier and the knowledge that Sellers promise of not telling anyone meant very little he still stealed himself and spoke. "I won't let you touch Grace. I won't even let you near her."

"It's not like you'd be able to stop me." Xavier bristled. "Oh you misunderstand me. I wouldn't force her. Oh no, no, no. I don't force people. I'd only extend the offer to her and let her make her decision."

Xavier scoffed. "Am I too expect that you'd just accept her regection without consequence?" Xavier was sure that if Grace refused then Sellers would make it more than difficult for her to find any sort of future work in Hollywood based on her talents alone. Or on Broadway for that matter.

"Don't be so sure she would refuse. You'd be surprised by the number of people who are more than willing to compromise their morals if it meant getting ahead. Or getting what they want."

He suddenly thought of Stewart and his words from earlier. Was he one of those people? Had he compromised his morals and if so in what way? Xavier was abruptly made aware of the hand at his neck and the fact that it was no longer squeezing tight but instead was rubbing circles into his hair. Xavier watched as Sellers eyes moved to his lips. All at once, he felt cold.

"Of course, I don't HAVE to make the offer to her. If it bothers you that much." The fingers were twirling around a lock of hair.

"It does."

Sellers nodded, still looking at Xavier's lips. "Then I won't."

Xavier shook his head in confusion. "Just like that. You'd agree just like that?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Sellers sighed. "I'd also heard that you were rather smart. Good with your hands, they said. Good at fixing things. I guess they exaggerated." He sighed again. "Never mind it. It's of no consequence anyways. I don't need stars with brains, just one's that can do what they're told and are good at their jobs." Sellers than smirked. "And well...the being good with your hands would be nice too. But not just that." The hand still on his chest raised and touched Xavier's lips who flinched. The hand at his neck stilled and returned to gripping him firmly. "You really do have quite the dashing smile. And wonderful voice too. I wonder if that skilled mouth of yours is skilled at other things too."

Sellers than released him and he got to his feet and stood in front of Xavier. He watched as the man removed his jacket and began to untuck his shirt. Xavier stared at his with wide and disbelieving eyes. "W-what are yyyyyou doing?"

"There's that stutter again. It's rather endearing." Sellers than untied his tie and threw it onto the couch next to Xavier where the jacket had also been tossed. "But come on, even you can't be this stupid. I'm sure you've done this before. You know what's about to happen."

Xavier had already started to shake his head before Sellers had finished talking. "No. No. You sssaid yyyou don't f-f-force people."

Sellers shrugged. "Am I forcing you right now? Am I holding you down and beating you? Am I holding a gun to your head and telling you I'll kill you? No, of course not."

"Then I-I refuse." Xavier attempted to make himself sound sure but his voice still wavered.

Sellers took a step back and grabbed the two empty glasses. "Then you refuse. I won't force you. I already told you." He then began to walk to the kitchen area, placing the glasses in the sink before moving around the island there and leaning his back against it. He indicated towards the exit and said, "You're free to go whenever. I won't stop you."

Xavier got up slowly onto unsure feet. He looked towards the door but didn't move. "Go on," said Sellers. "There's the door. You can leave and I promise you I won't tell anyone about what was discussed here today. I hope you'd do the same but if you do, just know that there's not many who would believe your word over mine."

He began to take tentative steps towards the door when Sellers spoke again. "Just know that if you do go then my previous offer to you is rescinded. You wouldn't be going to Hollywood with me."

Xavier stopped in his tracks. "But-but Olivia-"

"Would have to manage with whatever sort of help you can offer her currently."

Xavier stared at the man aghast. He was no stranger to the cruelty of the world but this, God this, was something else. He'd just been offered a means to save his sister but at what cost?

"Please," he whispered. "She won't be able to s-survive without the doctors."

"Not my problem."

"But you hhhelped her. Yyyyou paid for her bills-"

"And you have a pretty funny way of showing your thanks."

Xavier shook his head, tears prickling his eyes. "But you s-s-said I was made for fffilm."

Sellers sighed. "And it would be a great travesty to deprive the world of your talent but it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make."

Xavier gulped and looked to the door before looking back at Sellers. "A-a-and if I stay?"

Sellers smiled and then walked towards Xavier, stopping right before him. "Then I promise I will make you a star. Such a big star that you would be able to afford to pay for every single doctor in the nation to be your sisters own personal physician."

Tremors travelled through his body as Sellers took another step towards him. He could feel the older mans breath on his face. "It's your choice. Either walk out that door and never turn back. Or..." He began to unbuckle his belt. "Get on your knees."
_______________________________________________________

Xavier stumbled out of the hotel, dazed. His breath hitched at the cold night air assaulting his face. How long had it been? Hours apparently.

A taxi pulled up in front of him. "You Mr. Vox?" asked the driver.

He nodded numbly.

"Well get in." Xavier did so and stared outside the window, not seeing the buildings as they passed by. He hadn't given the driver his address but he didn't need to. The driver had been called for and given the necessary information already, knowing exactly where to go. It wasn't a long drive, unfortunately.

He stumbled out and gave one too many bills to the driver who enthusiastically thanked him and pulled away quickly, probably afraid of Xavier either realizing his mistake or going back on his generosity. It didn't matter though. He had more than enough money now in his pocket. And he would be making much more soon enough.

He turned around and looked at the dingy apartment building. He saw the small set of stairs leading down to his own apartment, in the basement. The smell of garbage that often permeated the alleyway assaulted his nostrils. In combination with the salty and bitter taste still lingering on his tongue he bent over and vomited.

He continued to throw up even when his stomach was empty, heaving but his body unable to offer any further relief. Tears were freely streaming down his face as he continued to hack and he struggled to breath. He was shaking and his heart was beating erratically but he forced himself to walk forward further into the alleyway and away from the open street. The smell of the garbage grew, making his stomach roll again but he didn't want anyone to see him as he broke down.

Olivia was just on the other side of that door and he desperately wanted to go to her but she already had too much to worry about herself. And if she saw the state he was in then surely she would ask and he couldn't give her any answers. By now Grace was likely home but he didn't want her to see him like this either. He hadn't had an episode like this in quite some time and he didn't want her to see how weak he could be.

Slowly he got himself under control and he wiped his face on his jacket sleeve. Grace would reprimand him for the mess but he couldn't bother himself to care. What was a dirty jacket to...everything else?

He pushed himself up and slowly stumbled down the steps and to his door, unlocking it with unsteady hands. He was greeted to darkness from inside the apartment. Was Grace not back from the theater yet?

He then heard the soft sounds of a radio coming from the couches in the living room. There Grace was, curled up with her knees to her chest, sitting on Xavier's couch as she stared at a radio on the floor. He heard her sniffle and he was immediately concerned. Was Olivia ok?

He closed the door softly behind him and asked, "Grace?"

She looked up and he saw tears shining on her cheeks, shining in the small amount of moonlight trickling through their one small window. He walked over to her and sat down next to her. "What is it?"

She looked at the radio and he heard a voice talking about the most recent victims of the Smiling Killer found in Louisiana. It spoke of multiple victims being found at once, only one of them with the signature smile carved into the victims face but the other two presumably being unexpected victims as well. One of which was surprisingly the famous radio host that Xavier and his siblings once loved so much.

Despite everything, despite the terrible night he'd had, despite the terrible last couple of weeks, he still found that he had some pain left to give at the thought of his old idol dying. Or perhaps, it was because of all of it. "You know," he said softly, tears stinging his eyes once again. "Me and my siblings used to love listening to his show. He was our favorite. He's the one I told you about that made us have dreams of making it big."

He turned his head to see Grace's face twisted up in anguish as she continued to stare at the radio, silently crying as she clutched her knees tightly to her chest. "Where you a fan too?" he asked.

Finally, she lifted her head and looked at Xavier. She looked devastated. "Xavier," she said through a trembling voice. "He was my brother."

And then she threw her arms around him and began to weep. He was shocked as he held onto her. Alastor was the mysterious brother she had told him about? The one who had hurt her?

"I-I didn't even get to tell him I had f-forgiven him," she cried. "I didn't get to th-thank him for everything he had done for me! Oh Xavier!"

The tears in his eyes began to fall once more and he held onto her tightly. He understood her pain of losing a brother. One you cared for so deeply. It was a pain like no other. He'd never felt a pain like it before, not even tonight. Because as hard as tonight was, it was all in the effort to keep himself from having to feel that pain again.

"I'm so sorry," he said into her hair. "I'm so sorry."

"He had no one, Xavier! No one but me! And I left him all alone and he died and I never got to say sorry!" she cried.

"I'm so sorry." He squeezed her harder.

"I don't even know if anyone will put on a funeral for him. I-I mean Mimzy might but I don't trust her to do it justice!"

"You should," he said, rubbing circles into her back.

She shook her head on his shoulder and hiccupped through her crying. "I-I can't. I can't afford to go home. I want to, I desperately want to go back but how? And what about you and Olivia? I can't leave you two!"

"We'll be alright," he said. "Don't worry about us."

"How can't I? I can't lose any more family!"

He shook his head. "You won't." He then pulled back slightly, reaching into his pocket to pull out the significant wad of cash. Grace's eyes widened. "Here take this. It'll be more than enough to get you to New Orleans and to pay for a good funeral."

She gasped. "Xavier. Where did you get all this?"

He tried to smile but it came out more as a grimace. "H-Harvey." He stumbled over the name, it reminding him of the awful taste in his mouth but the man had again insisted on it when he adjusted Xavier's hair right before he showed him to the door. "He's going to make me a star," he said hollowly.

Grace didn't congratulate him like he expected but then again she just learned her brother had died and in an unexpectedly violent way. But when he looked at her he saw worry in her eyes. "I mean that's great, right?"

This time he put more effort into the false smile. If he was going to be an actor he needed to do better than that. "Of course. I mean look at this," he said, waving the money around. "I'll be making more than that here soon. I'll be able to afford to get Olivia the help she needs."

Grace finally gave a watery smile at that. "That's fantastic. Really, it is. But..." She reached up and placed a gentle hand on his cheek, wiping away a tear. He felt the fragile mask crack at the first loving and soothing touch after having just went through something that was anything but. It made him want to crumble all over again just like he had right outside their home. "Are you ok?"

Xavier's earlier resolve to not want to let Grace see him so weak was beginning to fall apart. He wanted nothing more than to fall into her arms and tell her everything and have her instead sooth his pain. But the shame he felt kept him from doing so. What would she say if she knew the truth? He didn't really think she would think lesser of him but the worry was still there. And even if she didn't think lesser of him he knew that she would insist that he doesn't follow through with going to Hollywood with Harvey. She'd worry and tell Olivia and he knew that she too would say the same.

But how could he not? If he didn't then Olivia wouldn't stand a chance. And he couldn't bare the thought of losing her.

So despite the desire to spill everything he instead gave his best performance yet. "No, not really," he said, closing his eyes in sadness. He brought a hand up and ran it through his hair. "I've just been so tired lately what with everything going on with Olivia. I've just been so...worried that I would lose her. But now," he opened his eyes and turned to Grace with a hopeful smile. "Now I have a real chance at helping her. If it wasn't for Harvey, God, I don't know what I'd do. He even paid for Olivia's hospital bills. I couldn't believe it!"

"He did?" she asked with wide eyes.

"Yes." He nodded. "And now he's giving me a chance to help her for real and God, I'm so thankful." He looked down at the money and again pushed it towards her, this time she tentatively took it. He was thankful because he truly didn't want it. It made him feel too much like some tart. "Take this. I'll be making more than enough here soon."

Grace brought the money close to her chest. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Of course," he said, desperately willing his eyes not to let any other tears fall. "We're family. It's the least I could do."

Notes:

In 1933:
Xavier/Vox is 28
Olivia is 31
Grace is 28
Alastor is 43 at the time of his death

Historical facts about the time period:

Prohibition is still going on and doesn't end until December 5th. There's not a specific time frame for when this is supposed to take place during the year, its just before that.

The Great Depression is still going on and in full swing. It will continue until 1939.

 

So, I know some of you were anticipating and hoping for Alastor to be the one to find Vox first in the immediate aftermath of the previous chapter. I did contemplate changing things to have that happen but from early on in this story when I had the previous chapter planned out I always had envisioned Velvette to be the one to find him first. I planned on this being how she would find out his soul was owned by Valentino and thought it would be a sweet way to have someone finally offer some sort of comfort to Vox. I also really liked the parallel's between her and Grace, the two best friends that Vox has had that are practically family, being the one's to be with him in the immediate aftermath of that very first experience of being sexually taken advantage of and also during the latest. While he didn't allow Grace to fully offer the comfort and support he needed, he finally got that with Velvette, albeit reluctantly.

Also, surprise! Alastor and Grace are siblings confirmed. I know, I know, what a shock! I know some of you already predicted it and I thought about holding off on officially confirming it for a while still but thought nah, this fits.

And the name Harvey. Was it intentional? You guessed correct!

I hoped you all enjoyed. And as always, stay tuned for next chapter!

Chapter 18: A Priest and a Confrontation Between Old Friends

Summary:

It's 1916 and Alastor sustains a life-altering injury, leading him to meet Father Boaz, a strange Catholic priest with an interesting point of view on the Smiling Killer.

In the present, Alastor makes his way to Vox's apartment. The old friends finally have a conversation between just the two of them since before Alastor's disappearance.

Notes:

Geez, another long ass chapter. Sorry. There was some things that I realized I had wanted to include in an earlier chapter but didn't so I had to include it all here. I hope you enjoy though!

TW: suicidal thoughts, discussions of attempting suicide, canon typical gore, discussions of cannibalism and murder

1916

Alastor sat seething in a hospital bed, bandages wrapped around his head to staunch the rapidly bleeding wound. His head was pounding and the irritating medical staff buzzing around him was only making it worse. Mimzy clearly found it amusing with her smirk and incessant flirting with the doctor and he wanted nothing more than to smack the smile off her face but considering she was the one to rush him to the hospital he knew he wouldn’t do that. Granted, the mad woman nearly killed them on the way there, her having never driven a day in her life and thus nearly crashing his vehicle.

Additionally, initially she was rather worried when he called her late at night, having managed to drag himself to his empty radio studio and call her for help. She shrieked in horror upon finding him covered in so much blood while sitting in a chair, waiting for her. He tried to tell her that head wounds bled more and that he’d be alright, but his speech was rather slurred, and it was too hard to concentrate when most of his energy was going into not vomiting or passing out. It was at that moment that he thought that maybe the injury was worse than he had thought as she practically drug him out of the studio, all five feet nothing of her.

It wasn’t until at the hospital and the staff had stitched him up, stating that his injuries were not life-threatening, did Mimzy finally relax and become her usually carefree self. While usually a welcome relief, right now it only annoyed him. Granted, he was already unbelievably irritated before she ever arrived to rescue him, given the rather sour turn the night had taken.

Alastor thought he saw his shadow move beneath him and he glared. This is your fault, he thought. Some all-powerful demon you are.

‘Not once have I ever claimed to be all-powerful,’ it hissed as it peaked out from behind him slightly. ‘Even I am fallible.’

Yes well, your fallibility nearly cost me my life, he thought bitterly.

“Mr. Augustin are you listening?” His attention snapped towards the doctor who had been talking to him. The doctor gave him a concerned look. “Are you still having problems with your hearing on your right side?”

Alastor scowled. “It wwwould appear so, now, wouldn’t i-it?” He snipped, huffing at his still slurred speech. He deliberately spoke slower to prevent it and said, “Can you not fix it?”

“It is something that will likely come back on its own as your head heals. But if within a week you still are having issues with your hearing loss you may need to seek out a specialist.”

“A ssspecialist?” he said, aghast. “What, are you saying this could be pppermanent?”

The doctor stared down at his chart, scribbling away at a paper, appearing as if he was completely unbothered with this Earth shattering news. “It is a possibility with all head traumas, so it is hard to say.”

“H-hard to say?!” he cried. “Are you nnot a doctor? It’s your job to know!”

“Please calm down, Mr. Augustin,” said the doctor. “I understand this must be frustrating but there is nothing more I can do at this time.”

Alastor was livid and he was imagining different ways of tearing into the unconcerned doctor when he felt a hand at his arm. He turned to snarl at the offender when he saw Mimzy ignoring him and giving a sweet smile towards the physician. “Oh, don’t you mind Al here. He’s just frustrated because he’s a radio host, ya see. Not being able ta hear out of an ear is quite the problem.”

The doctor smiled at her, clearly infatuated with the woman. “Of course, of course. I completely understand.” Not likely. “And Mr. Augustin has my deepest sympathies but there’s really nothing else I can do for him at this time.”

“We understand,” said Mimzy.

“Well, if there’s nothing else then can I go?” growled Alastor.

“Unfortunately, we’ll need to keep you for another twenty-four hours for observation.”

He was fuming. If they said they couldn’t do anything else than why the Hell would they need to keep him? He had things he needed to do! Like cleaning up all the blood back at his station. And take care of the…bodies. His hands were shaking and he told himself it was because he was upset with the damned doctor and his damned ego, keeping him there for no Goddamn reason and-

Mimzy squeezed his arm again, subtly grounding him as she continued to converse with the doctor for him. It wasn’t until the doctor left that Alastor spoke again.

“That innnncommmpetent, eg-gotistical, swine! What good even is he?” he growled.

Mimzy patted his arm. “Now, now. The handsome man was only trying to help.”

“Help? Help?!” he cried. “If he was actually gggggoing to help he’d fix my ear or le-t-t me leave!”

Mimzy’s face fell slightly. “I think he’s right, Al. You should stay here. Just for a day. We can’t be having you collapsing on us because your head ain’t fixed yet. Not that it ever truly will be, mind you,” she said under her breath at the end but more than loud enough for him to hear despite the hearing loss, infuriating him further.

But he then softened slightly, remembering the distressed look on her face as she sped them to the hospital, babbling nonsensically either in an attempt to comfort herself or him he didn’t know. In the end he deflated and chose not to continue arguing. He told himself it was just because he didn’t have the energy to do so. “Fine. I’ll sssstay until tomorrow.”

Mimzy smiled, clearly pleased. “You bet your toosh you will! It’s not like you have much of a choice anyways. I mean, once Dolores gets here-”

“Excuse me?!” he cried, cutting Mimzy off.

She froze, looking sheepish but the look was quickly replaced by annoyance. “Oh, don’t you give me that. Of course I was going to call your momma. I didn’t know if you were going to die or not when the doctors kicked me out of the room!”

“Mimzy! Yyyyou know vvvvery well how I got this injury-”

“I mean not really, I don’t got any details.” She said cutting him off.

“You KNOW regardless of the details,” he continued through grit teeth. “What exactly am I sssupppppposed to tell my m-mother?”

She shrugged. “Tell her the same thang you told the docs. That yous fell and hit your head.”

“My mother is not some idiot who can be p-p-placated by some fffabricated story and you know this!” he growled. The idiocy of this woman sometimes was beyond frustrating.

Mimzy threw her arms up in exasperation, getting to her feet. “Well, you better think of something and think of it quick because she’s on her way here now!”

And thinking that Alastor was on death’s door, no less. Oh, he was in for one Hell of a tongue lashing. “What exactly did you tell her?”

“That you called me from the studio askin’ for help and I found you bleedin’ from your head. I didn’t say anythin’ else. Obviously,” she said, looking at him with irritation.

He sighed. “I’m not suggesting you would tell her about my…hobbies. I know you wouldn’t. I jjjust needed to know what you told her, so I know what I’m wwworking with.”

Mimzy sat back down and crossed her arms, huffing. “Yes well, just tells her about the fall. If she don’t believe ya make something else up. Tell her yous got in a fight or somethin’. It’s not like it’s not the truth.”

He supposed that wouldn’t be a bad possibility. It’s not like he hadn’t come home on more than one occasion when he was younger, bleeding from his nose or temple. He was a man now though and getting into brawls was not becoming of someone of his influence.

Despite where he had started out in life, he had come a long way. He was loath to admit it but the money and property that he had inherited from Mr. Ainsley was a huge factor in that influence. He was a pillar of the community and was respected by many, but not all of course. There would always be whispers behind his back about his mixed heritage, individuals on both sides of the divide jealous or resentful of his power and money. It wouldn’t be outside the realm of possibilities that one of those aggrieved individuals may have taken a stab at ‘putting him in his place’, if you will.

‘I’d love to see any of them try,’ hissed his shadow in his mind. ‘They wouldn’t be able to get close.’

Alastor scowled. And yet someone that shouldn’t have DID manage to get close. Her horrified and wide vacant eyes with blood splattered across her pale face flashed in his head. He swallowed thickly.

‘She got what she deserved,’ chastised the shadow. ‘If we had not acted, you would be in a worse state then you are now.’

Was that what she deserved? Was it truly? Her husband, yes, but her? He didn’t know anything about the woman but could he blame her for how she reacted when she discovered him and what he was doing to her husband?

For years Alastor had soothed himself with the knowledge that the people he was commanded to kill were dark and loathsome creatures. People that were destined for Hell, but he had spared them such a fate and making them go directly to the Mistress. They were stained in darkness, and they deserved to die. But that woman. What did she truly deserve? And if she wasn’t similarly dark like her husband, what then?

Before Alastor could think more or demand answers from his shadow he heard a commotion outside his room. There was a familiar woman’s voice, arguing with a nurse. He cringed.

“Looks like momma dearest has arrived,” said Mimzy with far too much cheer.

“Ma’am, you need to wait. We have to ask him first if he would like to see you before we can allow you to-”

“Oh, he’ll be seeing me alright! If he doesn’t want to then you’ll be expecting him as a patient again once I’m through with him.”

“Ma’am!” came the horrified gasp from the nurse.

Alastor rolled his eyes, winching at the movement, making the pounding in his head worse. He closed his eyes and rubbed at his temple, waving a hand at Mimzy. “Go get her, please. Before she gets kicked out and she truly bbbecomes enraged.”

Mimzy scurried off to defuse the situation, giving Alastor a moment to collect himself before he had to face the fire. He opened his eyes when he heard the clicking of heals rapidly approaching. His mother’s concerned face entered his field of vision and despite everything, he could feel himself immediately relax. She placed a gentle hand on his cheek, and he leaned into it, gaining strength from her mere presence.

“Oh, my poor boy,” she said softly which Alastor strained to hear. “What happened to you?”

“You’ll have to speak up, mmmother. I’m having troubles hearing out of my right ear,” he said quietly.

Her already distressed look fell, her eyebrows furrowing. She looked to Mimzy in worry.

“He’s got a concussion and needs ta stay for the next twenty-four hours. The doc said his hearing loss in his right ear might or might not be permeant. Don’t know yet.”

“And the slurring?” she asked.

“Due to the head trauma. Should clear up eventually.”

His mother turned back to him, stroking his cheek with her thumb in soothing circles. His eyes fluttered shut. “Thank you Mimzy for taking care of my son. We both greatly appreciate it.”

“It’s my pleasure. Glad I was there to keep his sorry ass from perishing for good!”

His mother hummed. He could hear the disapproval in it. He didn’t know if it was at the situation, Mimzy’s choice of words, Alastor himself, or a combination of the three. “You must be tired, Mimzy. You can go on home, I’ll take care of Alastor from here. I think it’s safe to say none of us will be coming in to work today. If you could let the rest of the staff know at the club that we’ll be closed for today I would greatly appreciate it.”

Alastor opened his eyes and saw Mimzy nod. “You got it. Leave it to me. I’ll make sure everythin’s in order. I’ll even let the boys at the studio know.” She gave Alastor a look, signaling to him she’d take care of the mess back at the radio studio.

“Thank you, Mimzy. If you could also take care of my car,” he said. Mimzy again nodded before leaving, understanding what he was truly asking for. The bodies were inside the trunk and the last thing he needed was for someone to stumble upon them before he could dispose of them.

Despite the terrible night and irritation he pointed towards Mimzy earlier, he truly was grateful for her. He would have to let her know how thankful he was once he was able. He knew she’d be demanding some sort of thank you in the form of money or an expensive gift which he’d gladly provide. It’s not every day you came across someone whose morals were more on the flexible side who also would be willing to cover up your own misdeeds and even help participate in them without question.

Now alone with his mother he felt exhaustion overtake him. The weariness he had been feeling was almost suffocating now that he was out of the initial danger. The shift did not escape his mother’s notice. “Oh Alastor,” she cooed. “What have you gotten yourself into?”

He shook his head slightly, leaning further into her hand. “It’s n-nothing to worry about momma. It was only a sssmall fall.”

She scowled. “Even if I believed that story about a fall this would certainly not be a small one.” She tipped his head up so he could look her in the eyes. “What happened Alastor? What trouble are you in?”

He knew that she wouldn’t believe the story about a fall. She was too smart for that. He had been out in the middle of the night for supposedly no particular reason. He sighed and placed his hand over hers. “I’m not in any sort of trouble,” he lied. “You don’t have to w-worry. I have everything handled.”

She huffed as she drew her hand back so she could situate herself in the chair Mimzy had vacated. “Now why don’t I believe that for a second? You’ve always been far too quick to try and handle your problems with violence instead of using your words. I would have thought that by now you’d know better.”

Alastor flinched. The words hitting a little too close to home. His reaction was instinctive on both his and his shadow’s part, lashing out at the threat that caused his injury. By the time he realized what had happened, the deed had been done.

‘There was no other choice,’ hissed the shadow. ‘She had to be eliminated. Talking wouldn’t have solved anything; she had seen what you had done.’

He knew his shadow was right. He knew it and yet it didn’t make it easier. She had looked so young, too.

A soft hand lay on top of his, pulling him from his thoughts. His mother was gazing at him with sad eyes. “I’m not trying to make you feel guilty, love. I know that whoever did this to you likely deserved what was coming to them.” Not this time, he thought, and he swallowed thickly. “But I just worry. You don’t have the same advantages that others have, and I worry what would happen if the police got involved. Even if you hurt someone in self-defense, I worry that they’d find out what your mother loks like and use that against you.” Her hand stroked the back of his hand. “I only want to protect you.”

Alastor turned over his hand, squeezing her smaller one, and looked down at them. “I know,” he said softly. “I know yyyou w-worry and I wish I could t-take that away and make it so that you’d never worry for me bbbut please believe me when I say that in this situation, the matter has been taken care of.” He looked up to her, giving her a beseeching look. “Please don’t ask me how or why, just tttrust me on this.”

She stared at him for a long moment, searching his face. He didn’t know what she was looking for and he couldn’t help but worry that she could see all of the ugly truth written across his face. What would she think if she found out? He’d no longer be the same lovely little boy that she so cherished if she did. Would she see his father in him if she knew the truth? He squeezed her hand tighter.

She returned the squeeze, giving him a sad smile. “Alright, I trust you.” Guilt tightened around his heart at the deception. “But you’re never going to be able to stop me from worrying. I’m your mother and it’s a mother’s job to always worry about their children. No matter how old they get.”

Alastor gave her a soft smile. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Of course I am! I’m your mother!” she said with cheer. “Which means you’re going to listen to me when I say that over the next couple of weeks, you’ll be staying with me so I can take care of you. No arguments,” she said as she pointed a finger at him.

He sighed. He knew this was coming but it still complicated matters significantly. “Mother,” he began. “I k-know you’ll want me to stay at your place but it’s just nnnot feasible for my work and having to travel all the way from your home out in the bayou.”

“Who said anything about you working? You’re injured and you need to focus on your health so you can recover properly.”

He huffed. “Mother, I need to work. Between the club and the station, I can’t llleave matters for too long.” Of course, his work at both wasn’t his primary concern, his other work for Her was. He had bodies he needed to dispose of, and he couldn’t wait weeks before tending to them. They would start smelling and someone’s notice would be drawn.

“Mimzy and I can take care of the club just fine. And that assistant of yours at the radio station can take care of things for a week or two. He’s more than capable and eager to please.”

“Mother, I know you’re worried and only want to help but really, I cccan’t stay away for that long. I’ll be fine,” he said.

“What did I say about arguing,” she admonished.

He raised his free hand to his head, running it through his hair. He could feel dried blood in it. He didn’t think all of it was his own. “How bout this,” he began. “I’ll only work a couple hours a day and I’ll be sure to have Mimzy with me. She’ll be able ttto make ssssure I don’t overwork myself and she’ll beeee able to get me the help I need if I overdue it.” She also was the only person that he trusted to help with the disposal of the bodies. Usually, he’d take care of such matters on his own, but reluctantly he had to admit that he didn’t think he was quite up to it, physically.

His mother sighed. “Fine.” Alastor smiled. She then scowled and gave him a disapproving look. “But the first two days out of the hospital will be spent at home with no working. Only if I deem you fit to leave after that will I allow you to leave with her. End of discussion.”

He wasn’t happy with the solution, but he thought he could manage three days without dealing with the bodies. He’ll have to ask Mimzy to park his vehicle somewhere away from too much foot traffic so the smell wouldn’t be noticed. And the clean up in his vehicle will be one Hell of a hassle. He hoped he’d be able to get the dead body smell out. He really didn’t want to have to get an entirely new car.

The two lapsed into more pleasant conversation, allowing Alastor to incrementally relax more and more. He drifted in and out of sleep as the day wore on, the injury taking more out of him than he thought. Flashes of the woman’s face haunted his dreams as did her screams of pain and fear. Each time he returned to wakefulness with his mother running her hands through his hair, softly singing to him and whispering words of comfort.

Later, their peace was interrupted by of all things, a priest. God truly was mocking him, wasn’t he?

“Hello madam and sir,” said the priest with a smile, lightly knocking on the door. He was young, no more than thirty, if Alastor had to guess. He had a kind face with blonde hair and pale skin. He was sure that there were many young women who mourned the loss of such a man to the life of celibacy. Alastor was glad Mimzy wasn’t here because she would have been positively insufferable at the sight of such a man. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“Not at all,” his mother said kindly. “How can we help you, father?”

“It’s more like how can I help you, ma’am.” He took a couple steps into the room, smiling at the two. “You see I volunteer here at the hospital and see if there is any who would need some of God’s grace during their stay here. It’s never a good day when one finds themselves unfortunately needing to seek the aid of doctors and I try to ease some of their suffering and worry by coming here to speak and pray for them.”

“You’re too kind,” she said, turning to Alastor. “That would be appreciated, wouldn't it?”

Alastor sighed. He knew his mother meant well but despite knowing that Heaven and Hell actually existed he stayed as far away from church as much as possible. His mother was one who believed in both Christianity and Voodoo despite some finding them incompatible. He and his mother had had more than one argument over the years about his refusal to participate in any practices of either religion. He was already damned.

“I see that you might be the biggest supporter of Christianity," said the priest.

Alastor raised a single eyebrow. “What gave you that idddea?”

The priest’s annoying smile did not waver. “It’s alright. You’re not the first to doubt. God will forgive you such thinking. He is quite merciful.”

Alastor outright laughed at that. God forgive him? No, he had resigned himself long ago that there was no forgiveness for him. He thought of the woman. Yes, there was no forgiveness; certainly not now. “Speaking of forgiveness, you’ll have to forgive me for my rudeness. I just fffind you and your lot qu-quite amusing.”

Annoyingly the priest nodded and said, “You are forgiven.”

Another spark of irritation. Either this priest was quite stupid or he was being deliberately obtuse. “What did you say your name was?” he bit out.

“Now you’ll have to forgive ME for MY rudeness,” said the priest. “My name is Father Boaz.”

Alastor snorted again. “Truthfully?” he asked in disbelief. “Like the character from your book who helped foreigners and the poor?”

The priest lit up. “Ahh, it seems that despite your skepticism you are well versed in the word of God.”

Of course he was. He had done his fair share of research into Christianity once he had finally accepted that Heaven and Hell and Demons and Angels were real. It didn’t mean he cared for or would believe in the ‘goodwill of God’.

“But to answer your question, I do not know.” The priest shrugged. “It’s simply my name and is merely a coincidence that my last name is of a prominent person from the Bible while I am also a priest.”

Alastor’s mother raised an eyebrow and smirked at the man. “I’m sure the name had some sort of influence on your path in life.”

Father Boaz smiled. “You would be correct. I choose to think that it was God’s will that I should hold such a name while having such a strong sense of duty to help those less fortunate through my faith.” He shrugged. “Or perhaps I have such a strong sense of duty because of the name, I do not know. Either way, I think it is a good thing for there have been many that I have helped over the years and hope there will be many more still.”

‘A bit of arrogance in such a ‘godly’ being, too, I see.’ His shadow snickered in his mind. 'He's not as pure as he might purport.'

“Yes, I suppose there likely is quite a few in the hospital who would take comfort from your presence,” his mother said.

Father Boaz nodded. “Yes, but I don’t just mean here. My church runs a kitchen where we offer free meals to the less fortunate every Friday night. We’ve also opened our doors on several occasions to those who have nowhere else to go or have turned to dark thoughts and are in need of guidance.”

His mother hummed in approval. “What church are you a part of?”

“Saint Mary’s on the corner of 8th street, next to the park.”

His mother nodded. “Yes, I know the one. The church is quite beautiful.”

Father Boaz smiled. “I thank you for saying so. I couldn’t agree more.” He looked at Alastor. “I would welcome both of you to attend service, if you would like.”

Alastor looked away. “You’ll have to forgive myyyy absence.”

“You are forgiven,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. Now Alastor knew the dammed man was messing with him. How infuriating. “But just know that the offer stands indefinitely. You don’t even have to attend service; the doors are always open to those in need of guidance.”

Guidance, he thought. How utterly ridiculous. Alastor knew that this man would never be able to provide him any sort of guidance that he could ever possibly need or desire.
_____________________________________________
Vox felt pain all over. His torn back and legs stung and there was an ache between his legs, deep inside of him that hadn't gone away yet. He knew that soon enough the injuries would be healed and his body would appear as nothing had ever happened. It was the greatest curse to Sinners in his opinion; immortality, prolonging all of their suffering indefinitely.

Or at least until one was fortunate enough to succumb to one of the very few means of the final death. Vox twiddled with his bullet as he lay on his bed, curled up in the blankets. He sighed as he watched the light from his screen reflect off of it. There was a gun in the safe in his living room, next to Alastor's book. It was a normal gun, not angelic in nature. But with an angelic bullet it would more than get the job done. He could feel a phantom brush of the leash at his neck, a warning at the mere thought. He huffed and closed his fist around the bullet, the weight disappearing from his neck.

If only Alastor hadn't run off over seven years ago, abandoning him on deaths door in the middle of that damned street. He had been so close. So CLOSE! But Alastor decided to run off instead of finally giving him what he wanted most. Time and time again, Alastor would fight him but stop before finishing the job. The bastard. He knew Alastor could be cruel but that cruel?

No, he told himself. Alastor wasn't being cruel. It was the same thought he would remind himself after each failed attempt at getting Alastor to kill him permanently. Alastor just didn't want to kill his old friend, right? Right??

Oh who was he kidding, Alastor never truly cared for him, he knows this. The damned man even told him that himself all those decades ago. Vox was just some...entertainment. That's all he'd ever be to anyone, some entertaining plaything to break over and over again. If he was being honest with himself, what he truly wished was that Alastor never found him on that rooftop shortly after he first arrived in Hell. The bullet clutched in his hand would have put him out of his misery, saving him all the heartache and pain over the years. He should have used it then, while he still had the freedom to do so.

Tears prickled at his eyes and he growled to himself as he dug a hand into his screen, pain and a kaleidoscope of colors shooting across his vision. STOP IT!! He always got like this after a particularly terrible night with Valentino, his thoughts spiraling and making him think of every regret he had, every inadequacy. He thought that as he fell asleep this morning, holding onto Velvette with a bruising grasp, that maybe this time wouldn't be as bad. He had someone that knew at least part of all the shit he had been going through over the past three decades but if anything, it only put him more on edge.

When she finally left midday to clean up his mess and go to work his anxiety shot through the roof, worried that she'd go back on her word and decide to confront Valentino. His worry must have been evident because she reluctantly reassured him that she wasn't going to do anything stupid and she would be back that evening, insisting on staying with him as much as possible. While he appreciated that sentiment, oh he appreciated it so much, he also worried that this newfound clinginess would eventually be obvious. It would go without Valentino's notice for only so long before the man became suspicious or irritable. Yes, there was some relief in having Velvette know but for the most part, he was just terrified.

How had two people found out his greatest secret in the span of only a couple of weeks while not a soul had discovered it for the past thirty years? The flimsy grasp of control he had on his life felt like it was rapidly unraveling and he didn't know what to do about it. What if the rest of Hell found out? What if everyone he knew realized the truth? Any power he had left for himself would be gone, revealing how weak he truly was to everyone.

His breathing was coming quick again, an ensuing panic attack approaching. He'd already staved off two of them and here he was again, on the verge of losing himself. Get ahold of yourself, he thought. Stop this pathetic whining! He pushed himself into a sitting position, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, grounding himself by placing his bare feet on the cold ground. He closed his eyes and focused on the feel of the linoleum floor as he focused on taking steady breaths.

His heart was still beating fast but at least his breathing was normal. Vox pushed himself into a standing position. He hadn't had anything to eat today, too exhausted both physically and emotionally to even make it to the kitchen. Some hot tea sounded nice right about now. He could make a passable cup but it wasn't anything like Velvette or even Rosie. A standard tea bag from the store would have to do.

The aches in his body seemed to only worsen as he shuffled his way to the kitchen. The stitches groaned at the movement. Maybe some alcohol in the tea would be nice. Or maybe just some alcohol. Velvette would certainly disapprove if she found him drunk when she showed up later but she'd probably understand. He doubted she was staying sober herself currently. She may not partake in such vices as much as he or Valentino did but even she had her own personal stashes in her studio and lab.

In the living room he noticed that all the blood and glass from his screen had been cleaned up. He hadn't heard anyone else out here besides Velvette earlier. Guilt washed over him knowing that she cleaned it up herself. She shouldn't have had to do that. She shouldn't have had to do any of that shit from cleaning his apartment up to cleaning and stitching him up and watching over is pathetic ass. She deserved better.

Fuck. Alcohol it was then. Tea just wasn't going to cut it.

He made a detour on his trek to the kitchen and course-corrected to walk towards the liquor cabinet and small bar area by his large floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city. He opted for grabbing an entire bottle of whiskey instead of grabbing and pouring himself a glass. He took a large swig, already feeling the slight shaking that had overtaken him dissipate marginally. He stared out at the vibrant lights of the entertainment district, bathing the area in an unnatural and blinding lighting. Nightfall had come once more and with all the lights of his apartment being off, the lighting outside also bathed his living room in the unnatural glow.

Down below him, across the street, was a single dark rooftop. The building was rather old and out of date, especially for such a modern area. He'd made sure to keep that rooftop just the same, preserving it almost like a time capsule. There were no flashing lights or showy billboards to speak of. It was just a dreary rooftop.

He found himself lost in thought, staring down at it as he drank. His hand found its way into his sweatpants pocket, brushing against the bullet. His knuckle knocked against the other item he found there. He twisted both cylindrical items round and round between his fingers. It was an odd pair of items, each offering a different path to the same end goal for two different intended targets. Salvation.

"Reminiscing, old pal?"

Vox jumped at the unexpected voice, whipping his head around to find Alastor, cloaked in darkness. How the Hell had he gotten here? "W-what are you doing here?"

Alastor's ever present smile gleamed in the darkness. He walked towards Vox with his hands clasped behind his back, looking as if he didn't have a care in the world. But Vox saw the tightness in his posture and at his eyes. He too was in pain. "Is it so strange for me to want to spend time with an old friend?" He reached out and took the bottle from Vox's fingers, taking a generous sip. Vox frowned. Alastor never was one for drinking straight out of the bottle, saying it was crass and unbecoming of a gentleman.

"Yes," he said simply in response. "Because we're not friends, remember? You made that perfectly clear years ago," he grumbled, his shoulders drooping. He took the bottle back and took another sip, turning back towards the window.

Alastor hummed, stepping beside him and staring outside too. There was a long pause where Vox thought Alastor wasn't going to respond, putting Vox on edge. The fuck was going on?

"Yes, you are right of course," came the soft reply. He looked at the man in confusion, watching Alastor stand stiffly and stare outside. Then it was like a flip had been switched. His smile suddenly reached his eyes and he pulled himself to his fullest height. He turned to Vox and he could see his eyes narrowing and his nose scrunching up in a sneer. There was the scornful look Vox was familiar with.

Suddenly Vox was struck with the reminder that this was the first time in almost eight years that he had found himself alone with his former friend. The last time was that fateful night where Alastor stared at him with murder in his eyes. He looked like that now. He swallowed thickly.

"You want to know why I'm here?" His voice dripping with venom. It sent a shiver down his spine. "Why I'm here to kill you, you pathetic excuse for a Demon!"
_____________________________________________
Months later and Alastor’s hearing in his right ear had still not returned. It was beyond maddening and it had caused more than one problem in his work. Being a half-deaf radio host was its own sort of irritation but in his work for Her it was more than dangerous. He’d had to adapt in his hunting, having half his hearing gone. Close calls like the one that had resulted in the initial injury had gained in frequency.

‘Your lack of focus certainly doesn’t help,’ hissed his shadow.

Unfortunately, the shadow was correct. He was losing more and more sleep as the woman continued to haunt his dreams. He’d seen flashes of her too even in his waking moments, thinking he’d see her walking on the street past him. Every new target given to him by the Mistress he second guessed going after. He hadn’t been this hesitant to follow out her orders since those early years. His shadow had made the Mistresses displeasure known on more than one occasion.

‘She does not tolerate failure,’ it would hiss. ‘You would do well to forget of the woman’s fate and move on!’

In the past the shadow had told him that those who don’t have a sufficient amount of stains on their soul would go to Him if they fell by his hands. He had realized soon enough who ‘Him’ meant. His shadow had reluctantly admitted to Alastor that the woman’s soul was not sufficiently dark and as such, returned directly to Him. Alastor agonized over the fact that he had torn the woman’s soul apart and she was not at peace in Heaven. His shadow found Alastor’s regret pathetic and a hinderance. His shadow wasn’t wrong, of course, but Alastor could not dispel himself of the weakness.

“Mr. Augustin,” said his assistant, drawing his attention. “Our guest has arrived and is waiting for you in the lobby.”

He nodded and mumbled his thanks to the young man. And wasn’t this just another distraction.

Alastor’s killings had gained a fair amount of notoriety in recent months, the name of the Smiling Killer reaching far and wide. While Alastor had once relished in the fear that circulated the streets of New Orleans, a warning to the more unsavory citizens that festered in his city, ever since the woman’s death he had been more reluctant to revel in it. Other radio stations had covered the stories about the Smiling Killer in detail, Alastor’s own station taking a step back from such things.

The ratings for the other stations proved that despite the distasteful topic of the murders, the public still had an appetite for it. His assistant had urged him to cover the murders and even go beyond just mentioning them. Alastor had only half paid attention when he told him of some prominent member of their community who had been actively speaking about the murders with a unique look on them, drawing the attention of politicians. Alastor agreed to let his assistant ask for the person to appear as a guest on his radio show, mostly to get the boy to stop pestering him about it.

Alastor wished now that he had paid more attention to what the boy had to say because as he walked into the lobby to greet their guest, he was faced with that same priest he had met months ago in the hospital.

“Oh! What a surprise!” said Father Boaz, clearly recognizing him despite having only met the one time. “I didn’t know that you worked at this radio station.”

Alastor scowled. “It’s my own radio station.”

“Is it? How wonderful.” He got to his feet and walked towards Alastor, stopping before him with an outstretched hand. “I was disappointed not to have seen you or your mother come to my church.”

Alastor reluctantly took the man’s hand. “I thought I made it clear that we would not be attending.”

The priest smiled. “A man can hope.”

Still as irritating as the first time. “What are you doing here? You’re just some priest. What sort of qualifications do you have to talk about a serial killer?”

Father Boaz blinked at him in surprise. “Well, none truthfully, but the public has seemed to enjoy my thoughts about the murderer. But you should already know that otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

Heat flushed his cheeks against his will. His scatterbrained thoughts had truly done him a disservice. Usually, he prided himself on always being in the know and one step ahead of everyone else but here he was at a loss. He plastered on a fake smile. The priest furrowed his eyebrows, clearly seeing through it. “Of course. Right this way.”

He allowed his assistant to fuss over the irritation, busying himself with preparing himself for the show. He stared down at his notes for the show, realizing that he was wholly unprepared for the interview with the priest. Thankfully his assistant had provided notes to guide him.

Perusing through them his eyebrows raised. Was he reading this right?

“Mr. Augustin, it’s time,” said his assistant. He snapped his attention towards the boy, startled. He nodded as he mumbled his understanding and soon enough the show began.

He opened the show with some music and then a discussion about the rising conflict in Europe with their war. There were rumors of America getting pulled into the conflict that were impossible to not address. Then ‘The Sunshine of Your Smile’ by John McCormack played over the air, Father Boaz humming along which Alastor tried to ignore. Eventually it came time for his interview with the priest.

“And now it’s time to turn to a more somber topic besides wars overseas,” he said in his iconic and trademark cavalier attitude of serious topics. “There have been more reported deaths at the hands of the Smiling Killer that has been terrorizing the streets of New Orleans, striking fear into men and women alike. Tonight, we have a man who is clearly unqualified to speak about such matters and yet so many have turned to listen, our very own Father Boaz. Say hello to New Orleans, father!”

“Good evening, it’s a pleasure to be here.” And he certainly sounded pleased.

‘Of course he is,’ hissed his shadow. ‘Even God’s most devote would delight in the boost to their ego that such a spotlight provides.’

“And it’s a pleasure to have you!” he said with false cheer. “Now tell me father, why would a priest of all people be someone that the good citizens of the city would be so interested to hear from?”

“Well, I believe it has to do with my own unique views on the killings and the killer himself.”

“Oh, do tell!”

Father Boaz shifted forward, drawing closer to the microphone before him. “I know that the mayor has condemned the killings and the killer, calling the police to action to find and capture the killer to help put the citizens minds at ease. But I argue that there’s no real threat to the public.”

“Oh? Such an odd thing to say about someone literally killing the cities good citizens!”

“Yes, but they’re not good citizens, are they?” Alastor blinked but the priest did not wait for his response. “The last two victims were known gangsters and killers themselves. While having not served any prison time, it was a well-known secret what sort of business the two were involved in.” He wasn’t wrong. “And the victim before that was rumored to have had some serious morality flaws, being seen on more than one occasion in Storyville.” Again, also true. Mimzy had informed him of the mans less than gentle handling of some of her old friends and coworkers. “And these are not the only victims that have been found to have some serious ethical failures.”

“Yes, but there have been other victims that have been found not to have any sort of these failures that you speak of,” argued Alastor. Again, true. There had been a number of victims that the public had never been privy to the darkness swirling inside them, the victims too good at hiding what they truly were. Not to mention the woman.

Father Boaz nodded. “True. But that doesn’t mean that there weren’t. Did Judas not conceal his true self from the other disciples, everyone unaware of his inevitable betrayal of Christ the Lord? So rarely do we wish to think badly of those around us, especially our loved ones. But the reality is that it is impossible to know the true self of anyone. There is always something underneath, just out of reach, that is concealed to those around us. And often times it is dark.”

Alastor swallowed thickly. “Oh? Even yourself, father?” He said with a certain amount of bit.

“Of course,” he said with a smile. “I am one of God’s imperfect children, created by Eve’s own failure. Not even I am as perfect or holy as I would like.”

An oddly humble response that Alastor did not expect. He felt movement at his feet, his shadow shifting around underneath the table, out of sight, agitated. He cleared his throat, attempting to gain his footing. “It sounds to me like you are suggesting that the victims of the Smiling Killer deserved to die because they were ‘dark’. Do you believe that all of New Orleans citizens deserve to die by his hands?”

Father Boaz laughed. “Of course not. That would be ridiculous. It’s true that by our very nature we are all sinners, but that does not mean that we should all die nor that the Smiling Killer will even do so.” He shook his head. “No, this killer seems to be targeting the more evil members of our community, purging the bad to allow the good to thrive. Almost like pruning a tree of its dying and disease ridden parts to allow it to grow and remain healthy.”

“So, you condone the killers’ actions?” Alastor asked with furrowed eyebrows.

Father Boaz tilted his head to the side. “Not necessarily. I’m just saying that the normal law-abiding and moral or God-fearing citizens have nothing to worry from the killer.”

Alastor scowled. “Ahh, so as long as someone is part of your faith, they have nothing to fear?”

Father Boaz shook his head. “I said ‘or’, didn’t I? This may come as a shock as a man of the cloth, but I do not condemn those who have not yet turned to God. Do I strive to spread God’s word as much as possible and turn as many as I can towards his grace, of course, but I do not fault those who have not yet done so. And I do not think the killer does either. There are more than a few victims who were documented to be ‘God-fearing’ and yet their actions spoke of a life of sin and depravity. I believe the killer targets those who he believes to be immoral and irredeemable members of society. Those who have done more harm than good. While his actions may be misguided, they are, on some level, admirable.”

Admirable? Never would he have thought anyone would believe his actions were admirable. But then he thought of Mimzy. A hero, she had called him. A vigilante. Some sort of avenger for those who had been harmed grievously. If only she knew that his motives for his actions were driven far more by a much darker force beyond his control.

“You heard it hear first! Father Boaz of Saint Mary’s church believes the killer’s actions are admirable! Those who have led any sort of sinful life, do be careful what church you attend. You might be seeking salvation and forgiveness but instead are met with condemnation!”

“No, no. No condemnation here,” he said with a wave and smile. “Everyone is deserving of forgiveness. Even the killer!”

“You find his actions admirable and yet say he is in need of forgiveness? What a conundrum!” Alastor said with a sneer.

“Not really,” he said with a tilt of his head. “After all, Hell’s road is often paved with good intentions. There are so many that believe their actions are benefiting others and the world, and that intent to do good is something to be admired. But that does not mean that their actions result in anything good even if it’s hard to see what the end result truly is.”

“Hhm, it seems that there is a lot of circling around the main topic at hand that I’m sure my listeners are dying to know the answer to.” Alastor leaned forwards and pinned the priest with a hard stare. “Do you or do you not think the killers’ actions are a good thing and that those people deserved to die?”

Father Boaz stared back, not breaking his gaze. His face was serious, blank and devoid of the smile he so often seemed to wear. It felt like he was staring straight into his soul. “You know, I have done a lot of research on the victims of the killer. Each name is engraved in my mind. I know that your former mentor who you inherited your fortune from was the first known victim of the killer.” Alastor’s eyes widened in shock. “I also know that your former mentor was well known to be a man to be feared. Did you fear him too?”

Alastor scowled. “I did not.”

“Why?”

Because I am the one to be feared, he thought. He sniffed. “He thought of me as his son.”

“That does not mean he was not someone to be feared. There are plenty of fathers in this world whose sons fear and hate them. One of the commandments is to love and respect one’s parents. But there is unfortunately a fair number of parents who have grievously harmed and wronged their own children.” Alastor swallowed. “I think that perhaps he was one too,” he said gently.

Alastor was fuming. Here this priest was talking of matters and people he knew nothing about. Alastor was not some victim who was harmed by Ainsley. Mimzy was, as so many others were. Alastor wasn’t the one who deserved sympathy. “So, you believe my former mentor deserved to die?” he growled.

“I don’t think that I’m the one to judge that,” said Father Boaz. “’He who is without sin among you, let him be the first to throw a stone.’”

“It seems that you are suggesting that people should disregard a fair number of the commandments,” he said in protest. “Isn’t another not to kill?”

“True,” he said slowly. “But God forgives all things. I am only a mortal man who does not claim to have all the answers. God is mysterious and he works in mysterious ways. He works through each of us in some capacity, even the killer.” His eyes bore into Alastor’s who was transfixed.

His heart was pounding so loudly he could hear it in his one good ear. “The killers actions are not the work of God,” he said softly. “There is no salvation for him.”

“I beg to differ,” said Father Boaz. “God’s salvation is for all. Even him.” He leaned forward, still staring at Alastor. “I welcome him to attend my church; the doors are always open to those in need of guidance.”

The words were a reminder of the initiation the priest had extended to him months back, and now unknowingly a second time. Alastor finally broke eye contact, looking down at his notes and shuffling the papers as a distraction. “Like I said, folks. Be wary of what church you might attend!”
_____________________________________________________________
Alastor stood outside Vee Tower, staring up at the behemoth of a building. He'd steered clear of it for several years; he'd steered clear of the entire district for years now. It looked...different. Strange and unnatural. Devoid of warmth. He felt an ache for years long past.

Night had fallen. He'd been procrastinating. Pushing off the inevitable as long as possible. His shadow certainly hadn't helped, constantly reminding him that it wasn't too late to change his mind. He could be the one to choose to end Vox's life instead. But he had refused. It would be pointless in the end to try and attack Vox at this juncture; he would not survive.

The only problem in his plan he foresaw was that Vox wouldn't attack him. He had been working tirelessly to save him during recent events. A couple months back Alastor was sure he could have antagonized Vox to attack him no problem, but he remembered Vox's distraught and guilt-ridden face the day before at the Overlord meeting. He blamed himself for the destruction of the antidote. Would he choose not to attack Alastor due to some sort of misplaced sense of penance?

No, Alastor knew the temperamental man better than most. He was always quick to anger, seeking out Alastor several times over the years to start a fight with him over some imagined slight. Goading Vox to attack him should be simple enough. He knew so many of the Demons insecurities and weaknesses.

'It's still not too late,' came the muted hiss. 'This doesn't have to be the end.'

"It's not your end," he reminded. "Only mine."

'You think the void is better than nothing?' scoffed the shadow. 'You know what's in store for me if I return a failure.'

He felt a shred of sympathy for the creature. He'd been saddled with it for over a century, their fates tied together and an inseperable pair. It wasn't an ideal situation for either of them by any means, both at each others throats on more than one occasion, but you don't go that amount of time stuck to another without feeling some sort of way for them.

'I don't need or want your pity,' growled the shadow. 'It is pointless to me.'

Alastor sighed. "If there was another way you know I would take it." There was another growl in his head. Alastor scowled. "Another way that didn't result in me murdering Vox." The shadow growled once more. His sympathy was starting to dissipate, annoyance replacing it. He was tired of having this same argument over and over today. He knew the shadow was a despicable creature but he thought that after what he had come to know about it, on some level at least, it would have understood Alastor's reasoning.

His shadow seemed to deflate where it lay on the cement next to him. 'Understanding and accepting are two different things. I've never cared for your Picture Box. Why would I accept being banished back to the void for him?'

Alastor supposed he could understand that sentiment in return; he would not care to be killed or banished in such a way for just anyone. If their roles were reversed he knew he'd feel the same way as his shadow. 'At least we can both accept that.' Alastor agreed.

He braced himself and before he could procrastinate any further he closed his eyes, feeling shadows surround him and drag him into a weightless void. It was reminiscent of the one that the Mistress commanded, but it was less suffocating and only lasted a moment. The weightlessness disappeared, leaving him reeling. He hadn't felt disoriented like that while using his shadows since his early days in Hell when he was first learning to use his shadows to teleport himself. Pain shot through his abdomen, causing him to bend over. He squinted his eyes shut, attempting to keep himself from passing out from the pain. He bit his lip to keep quiet until he was finally able to gather his baring's.

Once he stood up he was shocked to find Vox standing before him with a bottle of liquor in hand, dressed in a ratty outfit with bare feet, a sight that was so much out of character that Alastor frowned. He had his back to Alastor, staring out of his giant windows while standing in the dark, somehow unaware of Alastor's arrival. He must have managed to stay more quiet than he thought or Vox had drank a fair amount of that alcohol.

He watched the other man stand there, periodically drinking from his bottle, still unaware of Alastor's presence. He didn't want to shatter the relative calm of the scene, this being the first time that Alastor had seen the other in decades where there was not outright animosity flowing between the two of them. This would be the last time he'd ever see the man, period.

His shadow shifted next to him, agitated over the situation. Alastor realized then he couldn't allow the moment to stretch out any longer. He needed to act.

"Reminiscing, old pal?" Vox whirled around with a wide-eyed expression. He looked...off. He didn't appear to be his normally overconfident self. "W-what are you doing here?" he asked, his face glitching slightly. Oh he truly looked confused and startled. Was he afraid? Did he suspect why Alastor was there?

Alastor began to approach, attempting to put on an air of nonchalance but once he stopped just before Vox his nerves got the best of him. "Is it so strange for me to want to spend time with an old friend?" He reached out and took the bottle from Vox's fingers, taking a generous sip. He could see Vox's frowning face. Clearly Vox had noticed the oddness of Alastor's actions.

"Yes. Because we're not friends, remember? You made that perfectly clear years ago." Vox snatched the bottle from his hands. The tone of his voice sounded sad, mournful. Regret hit Alastor again. It was such an unpleasant feeling but he couldn't make himself not feel it when it came to Vox. More regret filled him as he stood next to Vox, staring outside too, down at that familiar rooftop. Second thoughts were definitely started to kick in now but not for the reasons his shadow surely wished for. In order to get Vox to do what he wanted, he had to hurt the man further. He soothed himself with the knowledge that at least Vox would finally get some sort of retribution for all the heartache between the two.

"Yes, you are right of course," he said quietly before steeling himself and putting on the old familiar mask of the spiteful and blood-thirsty Radio Demon. It had become less of a mask over the years and more of his own skin. It hadn't felt this unnatural to him in such a long time. "You want to know why I'm here?" He said with a sneer. "Why I'm here to kill you, you pathetic excuse for a Demon!"

Vox stared at him as if he had been struck. Alastor almost stopped right then and there. It reminded him of the night over seven years ago. 'Please,' he had gasped out. He forced himself to banish that thought and keep going. He took a step towards Vox who took a hasty step back. No, don't retreat, he thought. Push back! "W-what?" he asked with a shaky voice.

"You heard me," he growled, stalking ever closer to his retreating prey. "Any entertainment I got out of you died out years ago," he spat out. "I should have disposed of your pathetic self long ago like all the other Overlords I killed with my bare hands."

Alastor quickly shot forward, grabbing onto the collar of his worn sweater, pushing him up against the window and causing the bottle in Vox's hands to shatter on the ground. "It certainly would have spared me a painful death due to your own incompetence!" Alastor was going to tell Vox that it wasn't his fault that the antidote had been lost as the vial shattered onto he ground at the hotel. He knew it was Lillith's own shadow who was responsible and seeing Vox's distraught face at the Overlord meeting spurred him on to tell Vox it wasn't his fault. He was now thankful for Valentino and Adam's unexpected arrival, preventing him from doing so.

The implication of Alastor blaming Vox hit the mark for Vox's already agonized face fell, striking a knife through Alastor's chest. "I-I-I swear, I di-zzzz-dn't mean to!"

Alastor pulled him forward and then shoved him harder into the window, a slight groan in the glass being heard. "You think that matters?! You think I care what you did or didn't mean to do?! My only chance at survival is gone!"

"No-no, it's not! Vel-"

"I don't care about your little friends useless attempts at recreating a cure!" He barked out. "I should have let you kill yourself on that same damned rooftop when I first met you!" Alastor's eyes were drawn towards the dark rooftop below them. Alastor was breathing heavily, the pain at even that small excursion heating him up and making him weak. He was leaning heavily on Vox and the window, both keeping him steady. Vox, meanwhile, stared back at him. Tears were in his eyes that Alastor avoided looking at. Perhaps he had gone too far with that last part.

Alastor was contemplating taking it back when Vox started to laugh. The tears that were threatening to fall finally did so, marking a trail on each side of his screen. He bent his head down slightly as he laughed, both of his hands holding onto his stomach, his claws twisting in his sweater. "Of all the days," he choked out between full-body laughs. "Of all the DAYS!!" He was struggling to speak between the laughter and Alastor's ears pinned back onto the top of his head. This...was not the response he had been expecting.

"You really-zzz think," he looked at Alastor with a wide smile. "You really think that you can kill me! ME! In the state you're zzzz-in??" He laughed in Alastor's face, spit flying out and causing true agitation to rise up within him. Vox pushed him back suddenly, causing him to stumble. His shadow reared up, catching him before he could fall. "See!! You can't even stand straight!" Vox bent over, slapping his hand on his knees and laughing. "It's the ultimate joke! I mean zz-real-zzz-y! You couldn't decide to do this sooner??"

Alastor's furrowed his eyebrows and his ear twitched. "Sooner?"

"Yeah, I mean," Vox gulped through a few more giggles, pushing him up on wobbly feet. "You couldn't have decided that you were actually going to kill me what, seven years ago? Thirty? That fucking night down there!" He pointed outside the window, anger finally washing over Vox's face. Tears were still falling, however, making the furious look lose some of it's bite. "I mean-zzzz, come onzzz! Why didn't you fucking just kill me a thousand times over instead of making me suffer over-and-over for the past seventy fucking YEARS!?!"

Alastor stared at Vox with wide eyes, horror written across his face. 'Please,' Vox had said that night as he lay bleeding and helpless on the pavement. Alastor's own mind had conjured up images of his father, begging him not to kill him. He'd thought Vox had done the same but realization struck him like a semi going over a hundred on the fucking highway.

"You weren't begging me to spare you seven years back," he whispered. "You were begging me to kill you." He brought a hand to his head, his fingers twisting in his hair. "You wanted me to kill you and not just then. Each time you'd come to me, attempting to start some fight which resulted in me beating you bloody." He shook his head. It hadn't made sense to Alastor, no matter how much he would go over their fights. One moment Vox acted like this vicious Overlord, desperate for a fight but losing dramatically each time to Alastor. But he'd then watch from the shadow while Vox fought with others and there was a stark difference. He was stronger, more careful and methodical. No one stood a chance in his fights and yet he always lost against Alastor. He told himself it's because no matter what, he would always be stronger than Vox. But Vox had gained so much power over the years. He wasn't still that same newborn Sinner without any real power to his name.

Anger simmered just bellow the surface as Alastor stood reeling over the realization. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on him; here he was doing the very same thing, attempting to goad Vox to fight him and inevitably kill him. Even then, Alastor felt furious. Vox knew that a death by Alastor's hands was a final one. It wasn't something that was simply painful and would take time to regenerate from. Vox knew of Alastor's powers and yet he still had tried to get Alastor to kill him, countless times? Did he not realize how that would affect him? How he would be devastated?

He paused. Well of course he wouldn't. How many times had he told Vox that they were never really friends and that he was only entertainment to him? How many times had he made Vox feel worthless, and not just after they broke off their association? Alastor hadn't even realized until the day before just how false his words had been.

Sparks travelled down and around Vox, his anger growing. He bared his teeth at Alastor and shouted, "Of course I wanted you to k-zzz-ill me you fucking piece-zzz of shit!! Don't try and act surprised like you didn't know I fucking-zzz hated my life! You found me with a gun in my hand, ready to blow my goddamned brains out when I-zzz first got here with a fucking angelic bullet!" Alastor could feel Vox's powers charging the air, making the hair on his arms and head start to stand on end.

Alastor shook his head. "Of course I didn't know! You stopped yourself from killing yourself all those years ago! How was I to know you still wanted to follow through with it?"

Vox thrust his hand into his pocket, pulling the aforementioned offending bullet out. "I carry the same damned bullet with me still! Of course I fuck-zzz-ing still want to kill myself!"

Alastor ran his hand through his hair and scowled, his smile straining but unable to fall. "And yet you haven't! If you really wanted to kill yourself you would have done so already!"

Vox began to laugh once more. Alastor ground his teeth together. He was really starting to hate that laugh. "Oh if only!" Vox stomped over to a picture on the wall, pulling it down to reveal a safe. He unlocked it, his giant head obstructing Alastor's view of what was inside. He didn't have to wait long to find out, however, for Vox quickly turned around holding a revolver. "But who am I too deprive you of the very thing you zzz-c-came here for."

Vox stalked towards him as Vox pushed out the cylinder. Alastor saw the gleam of the angelic bullet as Vox slipped it into the chamber. The click of the cylinder sliding back into place and the cocking of the hammer were deafening loud in the room. Alastor's eyes widened slightly, fear overtaking him as he thought Vox was going to shoot him as he raised his arm. It didn't matter that that's the very thing he had truly come for, he couldn't shake the fear of dying.

But then Vox grabbed his right wrist and the revolver was thrust into his hand. Vox brought the gun up, pointing the barrel directly at his head. Vox leaned his head forward, the butt of the muzzle pushing against his forehead, a rainbow of colors spiderwebbing outwards. "Gone on then," Vox hissed. "Do it. Fucking do it. You came here to kill me? Fucking FINALLY!" He shouted the last word, making Alastor jump.

He stared wide-eyed at his right hand, clutching onto the gun. Vox's hands were wrapped around his own, preventing him from pulling away.

'Why would you?' hissed the shadow desperately. It crawled up his back, it's wispy head looming over his shoulder and staring at Vox. He didn't turn to it but he saw Vox's eyes shift to the being but he did not flinch. He held steady as he brought his gaze back to Alastor's. 'This is your chance. A chance to kill him without any fear of him fighting back. All you have to do is pull the trigger and it will be done! Do it!' It's voice was booming, much louder than the normal hisses he was accustomed to. It felt so loud that he was sure that Vox had to hear it too.

"FUCKING DO IT!" shouted Vox, echoing the shadow.

'He is literally asking you to do! You will be doing him a mercy!' His shadow loomed closer, staring down Vox with it's vacant eyes. 'He has no will left to live but you do! WE do! END HIM!'

"NO!" shouted Alastor who wrenched his arm away from Vox. His other hand fumbled on the cylinder release before it finally popped out. He pulled the bullet out, throwing each item in opposite directions of himself. The tinkling of the bullet as it bounced off the window and rolled across the floor was somehow far louder to his ears than the crash of the gun across the hard floor.

The only sound left was Alastor's loud breathing; Vox stood there staring at the bullet with a blank face, unmoving. After several seconds of neither moving and once Alastor had got his breathing under control he took a hesitant step forward, extending his arm towards Vox. "Vox?" he said tentatively.

And then a bolt of lightening struck his chest, throwing him backwards. His back hit the floor hard and he cried out in pain, his eyes falling shut. He turned over onto his side, grabbing onto his abdomen. Vox had managed to hit straight on his wound. A warm wetness coated Alastor's hands and he knew he was bleeding. He coughed and speckles of red splattered onto the floor. He opened his eyes slowly, his vision blurry. All he could see was bright glow outside from the flashing lights on the buildings.

"Get the fuck out," came Vox's calm voice. Alastor lifted his head slightly, staring at the slowly approaching man. He was seeing double and he squinted his eyes, attempting to bring the two Vox's together. "You and I," Vox said in an even tone. "We're done. I no longer care what does or doesn't happen to you. I don't care if Adam's poison kills you. And I don't care if you die choking on your own vomit." Alastor couldn't help himself as he slowly tried to push himself back and away from the approaching Overlord. Vox stuffed his hand back into his pocket and in the haze of Alastor's pain he wondered if Vox was reaching for the bullet again. But no, he reminded himself it had rolled across the floor. Vox stopped a couple of feet away from him and threw another small item at him. He flinched as a small object hit his chest, bouncing off of him. Alastor's vision finally settled as he saw a vial filled with a glowing golden liquid inside. His eyes widened.

"Velvette was able to recreate it," Vox bit out. "It's untested so there's no way of knowing if it'll work. But I don't care if it works anymore."

Alastor looked up and tried to push himself up to a sitting position but only got as far as one of his elbows. When he looked at Vox's face he felt devastated at the blank and apathetic look he was met with. Somehow, it was worse than the tears and anger from before. "Vox, please-" he gasped out, unable to continue.

Perhaps that hit a little too close to home because Vox's mouth twisted into a snarl and more electricity shot around him. "I said, GO!!"

Alastor didn't have time to react as more lightening shot towards him. He only was able to put up a flimsy hand to protect himself, his eyes falling shut, when his shadow surrounded him, swallowing them up into the void. Nausea overtook him and then pain as his back hit his bedroom floor. That use of his power was too much. His eyes flew open and he gasped as blood shot out of his mouth. It was hard to breath throw the blood and pain.

His shadow entered his field of vision, a concerned look on it's face. It forced Alastor's head back as he continued to gasp. In it's other hand was the vial. It thrust the liquid into Alastor's mouth, shoving a hand over his mouth and nose to force him to swallow.

'Alastor! Alastor!' His shadows voice sounded far off even though it was inside his own head. 'Speak to me child!' He'd never heard the shadow sound so concerned. 'Everything's going to be alright.'

Alright? No, he thought, nothing was alright. He'd only just realized that he cared for Vox, cared for him more than anyone. And he had gone and pushed him away for good, just like he always did.

That was his last thought as he succumbed to the pain and darkness.
___________________________________________________________
Alastor strained under the weight of the body he was carrying. The man was heavy, but he was the perfect body for his goal. It was a now former clergyman, a Bishop who had touched multiple children, scarring them for the rest of their lives, but who was praised as a devote leader in the church. The priest had extended his invitation to Alastor not just once but twice, who was he to refuse such a persistent fellow. He wanted Alastor at his church, then he would come but not without a present; the Bishop.

The weeping smile dripped blood down the corpses face. Alastor took special pleasure in carving the smile on the man’s face while he still lived. This time he couldn’t help but think of the priests own constant smiling face and hoped the Father would take it as the facsimile that it was. After all, the very first was meant to be a twisted rendition of Ainsley’s own ever smiling face.

He looked every which way down the street, making sure no one would see him dragging the body onto the front steps of the church. He was being reckless by dropping it onto such a busy street, but the late hour provided him with some cover on top of his shadows own twisting darkness.

‘Something that you shouldn’t need for you shouldn’t be disposing of the body in such a place,’ it hissed. ‘Your own recklessness and need to what, prove you are irredeemable to an insignificant mortal, will get you caught!’

He ignored the shadow, continuing to drag the corpse further up the steps. He dropped the body once at the top, staring down at the wretched man. He wondered if the priest would still believe him deserving of forgiveness and salvation once he saw one of his own fellow clergymen, a man he knew personally, dead on his own doorstep.

His heart skipped a beat once he heard the doors to the church begin to open behind him. He whipped his head around to stare at Father Boaz who stared back at him. The priests’ eyes were wide as he stood frozen. Alastor watched as his gaze lowered to the Bishop at his feet and he waited for the inevitable.

“Bishop Williams,” he gasped out before turning back to Alastor. He waited a beat. And then another. And then the priests shoulders lowered. “What sort of moral failure was he guilty of?”

Alastor frowned, not expecting such a response. “Pedophilia,” he said in a daze.

Father Boaz gave a single nod. “I suspected but had no solid proof. He is at God’s mercy now.”

Alastor shook his head. “No, he is not.”

Father Boaz nodded again. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Gods counterpart will deal with him.”

God’s counterpart. Yes, he supposed that that was what the Mistress was. So many assumed it was the Devil. Was She the Devil?

‘The Devil is a pathetic weakling, many of Her deeds being wrongly attributed to him. She would not be pleased with such a comparison to Herself.’

Father Boaz stepped forward, bending down to grab the Bishops legs. “Come on. Grab his arms. I would hate for any of my congregation to see such a sight.”

In confusion, Alastor obeyed without question. Together, they carried the large man into the church. Alastor followed Father Boaz’s instructions on where to carry him, travelling further and further into the church. It wasn’t until they deposited the corpse onto a sturdy metal table did he notice his surroundings. They were in the kitchen. Beyond it Alastor saw the familiar dining hall. He had visited the week prior, disguised as a homeless person. He wanted to see more of the priest and so he attended the Friday night meal he served to the public. There was a pleasant aroma in the air. It was Friday again. Or perhaps it was now Saturday morning.

“You accepting my invitation on today of all days truly is a sign of God’s will. I had just run out of food to serve the public. I needed to restock.”

The words didn’t make sense to him, confusing him further. Nothing about what was currently happening made any sense.

“I killed him, you know,” said Alastor. His shadow hissed in warning.

“Yes, I know. That’s fairly obvious,” said Father Boaz without flinching.

“You are not shocked?” he asked, bewildered.

Father Boaz raised an eyebrow. “At you killing a man or you dumping the body onto the church’s steps? Because truthfully, I did not expect to walk outside to find you only moments ago.”

Alastor looked down at the Bishops permanently smiling face. It was obvious who he was to anyone with a passing familiarity with the Smiling Killers victims. Father Boaz had more than a passing familiarity of them. He furrowed his eyebrows. “You knew that I was the killer.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” said Father Boaz. He cocked his head to the side. “I thought you knew I knew after you had me as a guest on your show.”

He shook his head. “No, I – I had no idea.” He looked up. “How did you know?” He needed to know where he had gone wrong, where he had mis-stepped that someone he had only met twice would know such a monumental secret.

Father Boaz gave him a searching looking. “You truly have no idea?” he asked after several seconds.

“Know what?” he asked.

Father Boaz began to walk slowly around the table, towards Alastor. “From the first moment I laid eyes upon you in that hospital bed I knew. You had a mission. One that so few could understand but I do. ‘Like knows like’,” he said cryptically.

Alastor took a tentative step back as the priest approached him. “What are you talking about?”

“God has a plan for us, one that goes beyond the normal rules that apply to others. We have been called upon to make the difficult choices to do the difficult work. We sacrifice ourselves a little each day to protect and save those around us.” He stopped once he made his way to the same side of the table as Alastor. He looked down at the Bishop, laying a hand on the mans forehead. “You killed Bishop Williams, braking one of the commandments in order to save defenseless children from his clutches. You have tainted yourself but save others from being tainted themselves.” He looked back up at Alastor. “But God understands this, and he can forgive you, you need only repent.”

Alastor shook his head. “Repent? I murdered a man and all you can talk about is God’s forgiveness. Fuck his forgiveness!"

Father Boaz scowled. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” he spit out. “There is no forgiveness for people like me! I am already damned!”

An understanding slowly fell over Father Boaz’s face. “Ahh, I understand now. I had wondered why God placed us in each other’s paths. I thought it was only for companionship and to make us realize we are not alone, but I think now we are meant to be each other’s salvation.” He stepped forward. “Guilt and doubt are two things that I think we both struggle with. It is only natural all things considering…” he trailed off, looking back at the Bishop before turning back to Alastor. “Have you ever been to confessional?”

Alastor shook his head in confusion.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” he said with a smile.

Alastor scoffed. “I am not going to sit in your damned confessional and tell you my sins. You already know my sins.”

“And yet your sins still lie heavy on your conscious.”

“Of course they do! I murder people!” he cried.

“Murderers and rapists. Do you truly feel guilty for killing them?” The priest actually sounded curious.

“I – I-” He faltered. Maybe once upon a time he did but now? “No,” he said truthfully, stunned by his admission.

“You seem surprised. Why?”

He shook his head. “Th-they deserved what they got. They did nothing but hurt people.”

“And yet guilt clouds your mind.”

“Y-yes.” His voice betrayed him as it quivered.

“Why?”

The woman’s face flashed in his mind. For so long it was his father’s face that still haunted him, the very first whose death didn’t even come at his own hands. And yet his own actions are what led to the man’s death. He resented the man and yet regret still lingered for years to come. Did he no longer regret his death? Perhaps not, but rather a greater regret overshadowed it. “I-I killed someone,” he stuttered out. His hands were shaking. “A woman. She didn’t deserve to die.”

“She was innocent,” said the priest without any judgement.

He jerked his head up and down. “Yes.”

“Why did you kill her?” There was no accusation in the voice, yet Alastor still felt as if there was.

“I didn’t mean to. I-it was an accident! She stumbled upon me killing her husband, a terrible man who had done terrible things to vulnerable young men. She didn’t know of the things he had done and so she attacked me.”

Father Boaz nodded in understanding. “She was the one who put you in the hospital.”

“Yes. I reacted,” he gasped out. “I killed her and by the time I realized what had happened it was too late.”

Father Boaz took a step forward and looked down at the Bishop. He looked sad and contemplative. “There once was a nun who worked here. A young woman from Columbia. She was a sweet girl who had taught herself English in order to come to this country. Despite the ridicule she received from those less tolerant, she faithfully served this community. She only wanted to serve God in whatever way she could, and she did all the way right up to when she died.” He looked up to Alastor. “I killed her.” Alastor stumbled back a step, shocked. “I did not want to kill her, but I had to. She put everything that I was doing in jeopardy, and I had to keep her quiet, the same as you did with that woman. A sacrifice for the greater good.”

Alastor’s head was reeling. He did not expect such a confession. “What are you talking about? Put what in jeopardy?”

Father Boaz again stared at the Bishop. Alastor wanted to shout at the man and demand he look at him and not the dead one. “There are a fair number of homeless that come to this church and those down on their luck. They come at night, begging for salvation and to be delivered from their worthless life. They speak of losing hope and wanting to end things, committing the unthinkable. The unforgivable.” He looked at Alastor. “Killing is a sin, a terrible one but one that is still forgivable with penance. To take one’s own life is unforgivable for there is no chance at atonement.” For the first time since meeting the priest, he looked devastated. He looked as if he was the one now seeking retribution from Alastor. “I ease their suffering and ensure they cannot commit the unthinkable. I sully myself so they don’t have to.”

“You kill them.”

“Yes.” He swallowed. “But I ensure that their sacrifice does not go without purpose. Tell me, did you like the stew?”

Alastor frowned, reeling at the seemingly random change in topic. “You knew I came here?”

“Of course. Your disguise was easy to see through. So did you like it?”

He reluctantly nodded. He wanted to hate the stew, but it was salty and savory. The meat was cooked to perfection and the spices were just right.

“You’re not the only one to like it. So many others enjoy it too. It’s sometimes the only warm and hardy meal that some people get once a week. It sustains them.” He looked down at the Bishop. “He too will sustain them,” he said quietly.

Alastor’s eyes widened. Was he suggesting what he thought he was suggesting? “Y-you feed the people you kill to others?”

“Yes,” he said with a nod. “Now you know my own secrets. Now you understand how I knew who and what you were. ‘Like knows like’.” He took one final step forward, standing directly in front of Alastor. His eyes were wide as he stared at Alastor.

“So, tell me, Mr. Augustin. Do I fit the bill? Am I the next victim of the Smiling Killer?”

Alastor stared back at him, unsure of how to react. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that if he decided to kill the priest, he would let him. He spoke of his own guilt and second-thoughts about his actions. But unlike Alastor, he had a choice. He chose to kill those people, and he chose to feed them to others. By all rights, he was no different then those the Mistress commanded him to kill.

‘His soul is sufficiently dark. He would go to Her if you were to kill him,’ purred his shadow.

But then he thought about it. Those he killed would have died anyways, all suicidal in their despair. While Alastor didn’t exactly agree with the mindset that suicide was ‘unforgivable’, nor did he care for God’s forgiveness in the first place, the priest was taking the peoples pain away from them and ensuring their last moments were peaceful.

Alastor’s stomach also didn’t protest like he thought it would have at the thought of what the priest did with the bodies. He made sure that those he killed that their death had meaning. He provided for those who couldn’t provide for themselves. The young teen that still was inside him that had protested at drinking the concoction that summoned his shadow, the concoction that contained the eyes that he no longer fooled himself into believing belonged to a pig, was silent. So much had happened since that night, so much he had done. Was eating the flesh of another human so bad when he killed people at the command of a Demon?

Like knew like, Father Boaz had said. Companionship, he had said. He initially thought that Alastor had been sent to him for companionship.

He thought of his mother and knew that as much as he loved her, this was something he could never tell her. He then thought of Mimzy and the companionship she provided. As much as he was thankful for her and everything she offered, he knew that the sort of connection and understanding that he only just now realized he desired she could never provide.

Alastor looked down at the Bishop and smiled. “You know…” he started. “He is rather fat. I imagine that taking care of him would take quite a bit of time.” He looked at Father Boaz. “And I used to work at a butchers shop.”

Father Boaz’s smile had finally returned, and Alastor found it no longer annoyed him. “I would be most pleased for any sort of aid you could provide, Mr. Augustin.”

“Alastor, please,” he drawled. “And I’ll help you but don’t think I’ll be doing all the work. I’ve already done most of it already, Father Boaz.”

“Why of course! I wouldn’t dream of making my new friend do everything.” He walked cheerily over to a hook where two aprons hung. He grabbed one and pulled it over his head as he held out the other to Alastor. “And please, call me Jude.”

Hhm, Jude. Another version of the name Judas. Jude Boaz. What an odd name for a priest, he thought.

Notes:

In 1916:
Alastor is 26

The name Delores means "sorrow" or "pain". Her name is often associated with the Virgin Mary, who is known as Nuestra Seora de los Dolores or "Our Lady of Sorrows" in Catholic tradition.

I know I've mentioned Alastor's last name once before but I don't think I ever put down it's meaning and origin. It means "great" or "venerable" and is French in origin. It is a version of the name Augustus.

Boaz in the bible is a character who is seen as a kind a generous man. He marries Ruth after he notices her stealing from his fields. He leaves food out for her. She eventually asks him to marry her which he accepts. His name also means "strenght" or "swiftness". And the name Jude...well yes it is another version of the name Judas. Which I think most are aware of his story. He's seen as the ultimate betrayer in the bible.

History facts about the time period:

WWI is currently going on but America has not yet entered it.

 

I'm excited to have finally introduced Father Boaz. I'd been dying to get to his character for a while now. That being said, for some reason I forgot to introduce him in the last Alastor flashback which I had initially intended to so I had to add that beginning part of this chapter which I wished I had done sooner. Oh well. He's finally here! While this technically isn't Alastor's first introduction to cannibalism, it's a more full introduction into it. And now he has more of a partner in crime, another serial killer on the loose. I'm glad I was able to include more of Alastor's mother because I hadn't had her have an actual part in a while.

And how bout that confrontation between Alastor and Vox! I know some people had pretty much predicted that yes, Vox actually had been trying to get Alastor to kill him each time they've fought in the past since he's unable to try and kill himself due to his deal with Valentino. It's a bit of a shock to Alastor at the very least, despite the hypocrisy of the situation.

I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter! And as always, stay tuned for the next chapter!

Chapter 19: A Miracle and a Christmas Nightmare

Summary:

It’s 1917 and then 1918. America has entered the Great War which finally comes to an end just before the holidays in 1918. Alastor and Jude’s friendship is going strong and Alastor’s mother is grateful for such a man to be a good influence on her son. Until she isn’t.

In the present, Alastor wakes up.

Notes:

Well…so it’s been a while. I wanted to get this chapter out like two weeks ago and then a weeks ago, and then a couple days back during the weekend but it just kept getting pushed back. I’ll be honest, this chapter was a bit of a struggle to write and idk if I’m fully happy with it but I don’t think it can get much better and honestly, I just want to move on to the next chapter and I REALLT wanted to get this out before Christmas. So here you all go! My Christmas gift to you! Or holiday gift if you celebrate something different. And if you don’t celebrate anything at all, I simply hope you enjoy!

TW for this chapter: minor/OC character death, Canon typical violence, cannibalism

1917

Alastor sat back and smiled as he watched their little group laugh at the story Jude was telling. He'd heard it before, a story of a bat that had gotten into the church and unfortunately got woken up during the middle of church service when the organ started to play, swooping down at the congregation and causing an uproar. His mother and Mimzy found the story quite amusing, Mimzy practically falling out of her chair as she listened. Granted, seeing as she was leaning out of her chair towards Jude, he thought the falling over had more to do with her attempting to be close to the man more than anything.

Jude chuckled. "Poor Mrs. Dodd's was so distraught after the poor thing attempted to make a nest in her hair! To this day, she still only ever wears hats when she's in service."

"Ha!" cried Mimzy. "What I wouldn't give to have something like that happen while I'm at church. What a riot!"

Alastor's mother shook her head in bemusement. "You don't go to church, dear."

"Well if I did, something like that would make the service far more intrestin'!" she said.

Jude leaned towards her causing Mimzy to flutter her eyelashes. Alastor resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "You know," began Jude. "Saint Mary's doors are always open, if you ever care to attend church service."

Mimzy leaned one elbow on the table and plopped her head in it as she gave a leer towards Jude. "I know, love. So's you keep tellin' me. But I keep tellin' ya church ain't for me. Although, you do make one Hell of an argument with that adorable face of ya's." She winked at Jude. "And that cute toosh to." Alastor was no longer able to keep the eye roll at bay. Just once he would like for Mimzy not to flirt with Jude when the man agreed to come to the Alligator Club.

Thankfully Jude took Mimzy's flirting in stride and laughed. "And yet apparently my good looks aren't that good if you still refuse to attend. But don't you worry! I'll just have to find something else to convince you to attend. All in good time," he insisted.

Mimzy barked out a laugh. "Not likely. But you keep tryin'! What lady doesn't like havin' an attractive man chase after her."

"I don't know, Mimzy," began his mother. "He managed to get Alastor to go to church. Something that I had been trying to do for years."

Alastor sighed. "I go to his church to see him or help with his charity. I don't actually attend service, you know this."

His mother shrugged with an unconvincing smile. "It's a start at the very least."

Jude clapped a hand down on his shoulder. "That it is, Dolores!"

His mother beamed at Jude. She had taken a liking to the man, especially when she discovered that Alastor had started up a friendship with him. While she liked Mimzy and was grateful to her for being a friend to Alastor, it was clear that she found Jude’s company more appealing and found him to be a good influence on Alastor. If only she knew what the initial reason for them striking up a friendship was. Granted, Alastor's initial reason for striking up a friendship with Mimzy wasn't much better. But what his mother didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

At that moment one of the employees approached their little table and gave his mother an apologetic look. "Excuse me, Ms. Augustin, I apologize for interrupting you but we have a problem," said the employee. Everyone knew his mother was the one who truly ran the place despite Alastor being the owner. Alastor didn't mind that the employee went to her with whatever issue had arisen, in fact he preferred it. While the thought of him owning the place had grown on him, he still preferred to spend his time working on his radio business.

"Of course, dear. What is it?" she asked as she turned to the employee.

"It's just uhm, Tristan is back," said the employee with a nervous look that he shot towards Alastor.

Alastor furrowed his eyebrows. Was there someone that had been coming to the club and causing problems that his mother AND Mimzy hadn't told him about?

His mother's face fell. "Do we have anything that's going to go bad soon?"

"We have some dirty rice that needs to be ate."

She nodded. "Prepare some for him, please."

The employee nodded and took his leave.

"What was that about?" asked Alastor. If this 'Tristan' was causing his mother problems then he would ensure that wouldn't continue. By ANY means necessary.

"Now, now, cool that rising temper of yours," said his mother with a disapproving voice. "I can see your mind jumping to conclusions. Tristan is no bother. And even if he was, your mama could handle him just fine."

"And yet he just described this Tristan as a problem," pointed out Alastor.

His mother sighed. "I've asked the rest of the staff not to describe him as such. He really is a sweet boy. He just comes around a lot and the others think it's bad for business."

"Oh?" queried Jude. "Why's that?"

She gave him a sad look. "He's homeless. And a vet from the war. He got sent back early after he got shot in the hand. He can barely use it now and because of it, he struggles to find work." She huffed. “On top of that, his father saw him as a failure for being sent home from the war. Told him that it would have been better if he had died instead. I worry that he’s taken that thought to heart.”

 

Alastor looked out of the corner of his eye at Jude. He could see the thoughtful look on his face. “He hasn’t tried to kill himself, has he?” asked Jude.

 

Alastor's mother shrugged. "I honestly don't know but I worry that he will. I've tried telling him about you and your church and how it helps those less fortunate by providing a warm meal each week, but I don't think he's taken the time to go visit."

"But he keeps coming back here for meals," said Alastor with a raised eyebrow.

His mother shot him a reproachful look. "Oh, don't give me that look. It's all things that would go to waste anyways. I'm more than happy to feed him."

Alastor raised a hand in a placating manner. "I'm not saying don't, I'm just saying it's curious he'll come here and not to the church."

Jude smirked and gave him a playful shove with his shoulder against Alastor's. "See, you're coming around to the word of God."

Alastor gave an exasperated huff. "I wouldn't go that far. I just don't see why he would come here and seek charity and not go to the church too."

"Unfortunately there's plenty out there who are down on their luck who feel that God has abandoned them and as such steer clear of any churches." Jude looked distraught. "You mentioned his father?"

"Yes," she nodded. "He's, uhh, not a very good man from what Tristan has said."

"You can say that again," said Mimzy. "He's made comments about his younga sista's. Made allusions to some a the tangs his daddy may have been doin' with them." She leaned on the table, staring right at Alastor. He more than understood what Mimzy was getting at and more than understood what the hard look she was giving meant. Mimzy wasn't one to tell or even ask Alastor to go after someone. But she had, on more than one occasion, told him about someone she had heard, or witnessed, dealing out 'that' sort of abuse.

"That's horrible," said Jude from beside him with a horrified voice. Alastor looked at him and saw the man was staring at him with a hard look too. Jude, however, had asked him to kill people more than once. The man made it a point to get to know his own victims before he offered them relief. Of course, there were a fair number of individuals looking to kill themselves who had similar stories to tell. Plenty of them had monsters from their lives who haunted them and pushed them to the edge. The look in Jude's eyes said that Tristan and his father very well might be the next victims for both of them.

"Perhaps I could talk to this young man," said Jude, looking back to Alastor's mother.

Her face lit up and she leaned forward, grabbing his hand across the table. "Oh, would you? That would just be fantastic!"

He smiled. "Of course. I'd be more than happy to."

Alastor's mother was beyond pleased, hurrying off to speak with the employee from before, organizing having Jude take the food out to this potential new mark. She was excited to finally have the young man speak with the priest she had told him about, thinking that Jude would be able to help. A pang of guilt shot through Alastor. If his mother knew what sort of help Jude would offer, she wouldn't be so eager to introduce the two. The guilt only increased once his mother returned and Jude had left, her talking about how thankful she was to Jude and his selfless attitude. Alastor eventually excused himself and made his way outside to where he knew Jude would be.

He spotted the man kneeling down next to a young man, practically a child, who was sitting on the sidewalk. The boy was dressed in dirty clothes with a dirty miserable face. Jude spotted Alastor and beckoned him over. As Alastor approached, the boy noticed him and turned a suspicious look towards him.

Jude smiled once he got close. "This is my friend I was telling you about, Alastor."

The boy, Tristan, stared at him. "He said you can help my siblings," he said dubiously.

Alastor shot Jude a hard look, unsure of exactly how much he told the young man after only just meeting him. "That depends," he said slowly. "What has my friend told you?"

Tristan looked between the two wearily. "He said you can make sure my siblings never have to stay with my father. He said that you could save them from him?"

Alastor gave a slow nod. "I can."

Tristan's eyebrows furrowed. "How? You some kind of lawyer or something?"

Alastor wanted to laugh at such a notion but thought better of it when Jude nodded. "Yes, he is."

Tristan huffed and turned away from them, staring out at the dark street. "You're not a very good liar, father."

Jude chuckled, not taking the comment to heart. "Well lying IS a sin. One would hope I'm not very good at such things." And yet, he was so good at other such sinful acts.

"So, what are ya?" asked the boy who began to eat the food given to him with his bare hands. His right hand was severely scared and shaking, the fingers stiff and barely functional. "If you're not some lawyer, how can you help?"

Alastor noticed Jude giving him an expectant look. Alastor turned his annoyed gaze towards him and huffed when Jude gave a not-so-subtle inclination of his head towards Tristan, urging him on. He never used to be so reckless. But here his friend was, encouraging him to discuss the sort of "help" he could offer to a man he had just met. And Alastor was considering it.

"Tell me," Alastor started. "If your father were to die, what would happen to your siblings?"

Tristan blinked. "Die? I mean, my aunt and uncle would get custody, I suppose."

"You suppose?" he asked.

Tristan scowled. "Yeah, I mean, it's not like I'd get custody or anything. Look at me, I'm not exactly fit to be anyone's guardian." He waved his scared right hand towards himself. The hand and the dirty appearance more than making his point.

"What of your mother? Is she not fit to care for your siblings?" Alastor asked.

Tristan barked out a humorless laugh. "Seein' as she's long dead, no, I wouldn't say she's fit to care for anyone." Tristan's face turned bitter as he scooped up another handful of food and muttered more to himself, "The old bastard saw to that."

Curious, Alastor tilted his head to the side. "What do you mean?"

Tristan shook his head. "You wouldn't believe me. No one ever believed me. Except for my aunt and uncle but they kept their suspicions to themselves mostly. Didn't want my daddy to keep them from my siblings completely."

Jude hummed. "Why don't you tell us anyways, let us decide for ourselves whether or not to believe you. I think you'd be pleasantly surprised by our reactions."

Tristan looked at Jude for a long moment, watching the ever-smiling priest. He turned to look at Alastor's more rigid and subdued self. Eventually, he shrugged. "Why not. Not like you tellin' me I'm lying or overreacting will do anything. I'm already livin' on the streets as is."

He took a couple more bites of his food as Jude, and Alastor to a lesser extent, waited patiently. Finally, Tristan spoke. "My daddy, he was a real cruel man. Hit me quite a bit as a kid and a couple of the older kids but my mama always took the brunt of it. I saw him hit her one too many times, hard too. I'd find her trying to patch herself up several different times, with blood everywhere. I saw a lot of her blood," he said in a near whisper, staring vacantly out at the street before him, watching memories that the other two could not see.

"The most blood I ever saw though was a day or two before she was pronounced dead. She was nowhere to be seen but I walked in on my daddy cleaning up a bunch of blood in their bedroom. Threw one Hell of a fit when he noticed me. Pushed me out of the room and locked it to make sure I wouldn't get inside. I didn't see hide-nor-tail of my mama the entire rest of the day and the next one. Kept telling me she was sick and at the hospital. Never told me exactly what she was sick with. Or rather he did, but it's changed so many times over the years. Scarlet fever. Smallpox. Measles. Tuberculosis. Doesn't matter that I never saw any signs of her being sick before. People always said I was just young and wouldn't have remembered." Tristan scoffed. "But then my daddy sat me and my siblings down. Said she had died from her illness. I told him I saw her blood. I saw him cleaning it up. Beat me real good. But the worst whoopin' I ever did get from the bastard was at the funeral. My mama had been cremated despite the fact she always did say she wanted to be buried just like her family. Couldn't help myself and told everyone there what sort of monster my daddy was. He didn't like that one bit. Actually sent ME to the hospital. I made sure to be careful who I talked to about what I saw after that."

From the sound of things, it seemed as if the man had taken his beating a little too far and killed his wife. Or at least he was sure that that's what the boy thought. To get away with such a thing though would require others having suspicions and covering it up. Maybe the woman did go to the hospital and died there due to her injuries. Maybe she didn't and was taken straight to a crematorium. That would have raised some suspicions for sure and whoever worked there had to have turned a blind eye to the state of the corpse.

Jude must have been thinking along the same lines as he said, "Thank you for telling us that Tristan. That couldn't have been easy. But how exactly would your father have gotten away with what he did if he killed her? Someone had to have found out," he said gently. Tristan grumbled and curled in on himself, looking away from Jude. His friend noticed his error and hastened to soothe the young man. "I'm not saying that we don't believe you, I'm just saying that there had to have been others that suspected too."

"Of course others suspected!" he barked out. "I told you my aunt and uncle did! But they didn't say anything against him because they didn't want him to shun them or do the same thing to him!" Tristan glared at Jude. "My father is a very dangerous and powerful man. He's bought off police several times now and is good friends with the mayor. He can do whatever the Hell he wants, and he has always made that very clear to me."

Alastor was more than familiar with the rich and powerful getting away with heinous crimes. He believed the boy. And he thought that his father was a good new sacrifice to Her.

He watched the boy staring down into his lap, seething. Slowly, the rage seemed to dissipate, leaving the boy shaking. He looked close to breaking. Alastor noticed the look on Jude's face and could tell that he too could plainly see the boy was at the end of his rope. "I j-just wish," he said quietly. "I just wish he were dead. I wish he were dead because then I would know that my siblings were safe from him. I wouldn't have to worry anymore." Tears fell down the boy's cheeks. "I wouldn't have to keep going anymore."

The thrilled look on Jude's face was a stark contrast to the devastated one on Tristan's. It was almost...unnerving. Jude knelt down next to Tristan and placed a soothing hand on his shoulder. Tristan didn't knock it off, but he didn't lean into it either. Jude took that as permission to rub slow circles into the boy's upper back. "Your concern for your siblings is the only thing still tethering you to this world." It wasn't a question, but Tristan nodded. "And if you knew they were safe from your father, you wouldn't see a point in still living, would you?" Tristan shook his head no. Jude leaned even closer, talking almost directly into the boy's ear. "If your father was dead, would you then kill yourself?"

Tristan tilted his head up, giving a tentative look towards Jude. "I-I mean..." It seemed that the reality of the conversation, and who he was having it with, seemed to set in.

Jude brought up his other hand to grip Tristan's arm and squeezed. "It's ok. There is no judgement from me. I do not shame you for such thoughts." He smiled down at Tristan. "I only ask that should that day come where your father is dead, and you are wanting to kill yourself, that you come find me. Allow me to ease your suffering."

Tristan frowned. "You can't convince me not to do it if that day ever does come. I'm done with this world."

Jude shook his head. "Oh no, no, no. I'm not saying I would convince you not to do it. I would just make it easier. Make sure that your suffering ends and that you would not be faced with suffering in the next life. You have been through enough, Tristan. You deserve to find your peace."

Tristan stared at the smiling man with wide eyes. "Y-you'll help me?" He then turned the wide-eyed gaze towards Alastor who could see the moisture collected there. "You'll both help me then? You'll save my siblings? And my soul?" His voice was wobbly, barely keeping back a whimper.

Alastor felt a pang of something and wanted to ease the boys' suffering too. Alastor nodded. "Yes."

The boy began to weep in earnest then, hiding his face away in his hands. Jude put his arms around the boy and held him, letting out soft sounds of comfort. Tristan turned to the priest and clung to him. Alastor awkwardly watched the display, unsure of what to do. Instead, he just stood by and allowed Jude to comfort the young man while he kept an eye out for anyone who may try and breach the scene.

Slowly Tristan got ahold of himself, whipping at his face with his dirty jacket sleeve. "That's it," whispered Jude. "Everything will be alright."

"Y-you promise?" hiccupped Tristan.

"Yes," said Jude simply.

Tristan nodded and swallowed thickly. "Th-thank you. You have no idea what this means to me."

"No need to mention it, child. God has set you in our path for a reason," said Jude.

"Right. Right. Yeah, you might be right," he said more to himself than the other men. He rubbed his hands down his pants nervously. "Is-is there anything you need from me? Anything I can do to help?"

"Your father's name and address would be appreciated," Alastor said.

"Right, right, of course."

"And," Alastor began, leaning down and giving the boy a hard and menacing look. "For you not to mention this to anyone. If you do, you will surely regret it, and not just because you'd be leaving your lovely younger siblings to such a monster."

Tristan looked startled but again nodded vigorously. "R-right! Yes, of course! I wouldn't dream of t-telling anyone. I swear!"

Jude shot him a reproachful look as he rubbed Tristan's back again. "It's ok, it's ok. Don't mind him. He's just trying to be extra careful; you understand. But uh, do please keep this to yourself. It would be much appreciated."

"Of course! Of course! I wouldn't tell anyone!" Tristan then stumbled to his feet with some difficulty but Jude steadied him. Now standing up, the boy looked even younger. He barely reached Alastor's chin. He looked up at Alastor and Jude and for the first time since meeting him, the boy smiled.

"You know, when I first saw's the two of y'all I thought, they must be devils." He laughed. "Two able bodied men here instead of overseas fighting like everyone else. Clearly y'all had to have done some sort of sneaky shit to get out of fightin'."

"Oh well actually since I'm a priest I'm exempt from the draft due to my religious obligation," said Jude. He indicated towards Alastor. "And Alastor is not medically fit due to the loss of his hearing in one ear." Alastor shifted uncomfortably at the reminder of his defect. While he loathed the handicap, especially since it made his work for Her more difficult, he admitted that it was a small blessing since it kept him from being forced overseas.

Tristan smiled. "I thought there had to be some sort of explanation because clearly the two of you's ain't devils but angels."

Alastor could hear his shadow's hissing laugh inside his mind, sending shivers down his spine. 'What a foolish young man,' it said. Alastor couldn't help but agree as he watched the boy walk away.

"What a delightful young man," said Jude, cheerily.

Alastor's head shot towards him. "You're really not going to try and convince him to not kill himself when he comes to you?"

Jude shrugged. "Why would I? He's already made up his mind. I'd only be wasting my time and breath which could be used doing other things. His sacrifice will not be wasted. He will be helping his community in significant ways once he's gone."

"But what about his siblings? Surely, they will miss him," argued Alastor.

Jude nodded. "I'm sure they will. But they will also be spared from any other torment once you take care of their father." Jude smiled at him and threw his arm around Alastor's shoulders, giving him a friendly squeeze. "Cheer up Alastor. We will be doing him and his siblings a great service. They may miss Tristan, but they will soon get over it as they thrive in their new environment with their aunt and uncle. By the sounds of things, they care for their nieces and nephews greatly. Far more than their father ever could."

Alastor supposed that was true. Tristan's father sounded like the sort of monster that the Mistress was constantly hungry for. His shadow will be able to confirm this once it gazes into the man's soul. Purging the world of a man like that was a good thing, this he knew. And yet, he couldn't help but think of Tristan and the hollow, haunted eyes of one so young. He couldn't be older than eighteen or nineteen years old and already he wished for death. But would he actually find any sort of peace in the afterlife?

He could feel his shadow shifting under his feet at the unasked inquiry. 'His soul is not dark enough. He would not go below should he die.' Alastor could feel himself relax marginally. Perhaps death was a better option for him. Surely Heaven would offer him the peace he so desired. But he couldn't help but think of Tristan's younger siblings and the confusing world they were about to find themselves in.
————————————————————-

Pain.

That’s the first thing Alastor registered when he awoke. Pain in his abdomen, blossoming outwards and traveling through his entire body. And yet, it was more of an ache than the burning pain that he was used to.

The next thing he became aware of was angry voices arguing close by. His ear twitched as he struggled to hear, the voices coming to him through a fog. Once his ear twitched, that’s when he became aware of a pair of small hands wrapped around his because one paused in its stroking on the back of his. The voices then paused.

He felt a large firm hand on his shoulder shake him slightly.

“Al? Can you hear me?” came a gruff voice that finally cut through the fog. Husk.

He attempted to speak but all that came out was a groan that was followed by body wracking coughs. He clutched his abdomen as the pain increased due to the coughing.

“Easy now. Don’t injure yourself,” said Husk. He could feel the other demons’ sturdy hands grab at both of his shoulders and push him to his side, allowing him to curl around his abdomen and relieve some of the pressure there allowing him to slowly get ahold of the coughing. “That’s it,” said Husk in an oddly soothing tone of voice.

Once the coughing subsided, he lay there on his side taking deep gulping breaths for several seconds. He felt exhausted and the throes of sleep threatened to take him back under, but he forced it off. Slowly, he felt the pain dwindle and his racing heart even out.

He took stock of himself and his surroundings, or at least as much as he could with his eyes still closed. He noticed he was shirtless, the cool air prickling at his back. He would be embarrassed at being in a state of undress in front of what he assumed was both Husk and Nifty, her tiny hand being the one that was in his earlier, but his focus was distracted when he noticed a lack of wetness at his stomach.

With great effort, he forced his eyes open. He moved his shaking hands from where they clutched at his stomach and with a start, he looked at his wound.

Yellow pus no longer oozed from it, nor any blood. There was still a large wound extending from his left shoulder, down to his lower right side, red and raised. But it was closed. Or at least mostly. Either way, it had been gaping and wide for weeks now and only getting worse. Now, however, it looked like it had in those early days, shortly after the extermination.

“I know,” said Husk, having noticed his examination. “It’s a real goddamn fuckin’ miracle, ain’t it? You’re healin’. And have been rapidly healin’ over the past twenty-four hours, give or take.”

“Tw-” Alastor was cut off by another couple of coughs that he chocked down before continuing. “Twenty-four hours?” he asked slowly.

“Yeah, you’ve been out for a full day,” he said with a huff. “Freaked Nifty out real bad when we both felt our chains flickerin’ and weakening. I barely managed to get her out of the lobby without her blabbing to everyone else what was goin’ on. I drug her up here to your room. Freaked us out even more when you and your shadow popped into the room all of a sudden with you bleeding everywhere and in obvious pain.”

“It was really scary,” came the small reply from behind Alastor. Nifty. She sounded nothing like her normally giddy self.

The excruciating pain that Alastor was in before he fell into unconsciousness flashed in his mind. As did the look on Vox’s face as electricity shot from him towards Alastor. He shivered.

Vox tried to kill him. He actually tried to kill him. And Alastor didn’t even blame him. In fact, he had tried to force the man to do so only for a chance at survival to be presented to him.

Alastor looked at his wound again and ran a tentative claw over it. It stinged but it was obvious it was healing. The antidote that Vox had given him…it had worked.

“What happened boss?” asked Husk. “Because your damn shadow won’t tell us nothin’ and it’s getting really hard to keep covering for you and keeping everyone out of your room.”

“I told them your room was filthy, and it needed cleaning,” Nifty said without any cheer. “It wasn’t a lie too.”

“No one else knows about this?” asked Alastor, ignoring Nifty.

“Your shadow insisted,” said Husk with some bite in his voice. It was clear that he was annoyed by the creature. “I would have told it to fuck off, but your wound actually started healing, and quickly too, might I add. I haven’t seen your wound looking this good, ever.”

True. When the wound looked closer to this state it was something that he was still hiding from everyone.

‘I already told you; he does not need any help from the others,’ hissed his shadow. He could see it shifting beside Husk who turned to glare at the thing. ‘You would do well to continue to keep them out of business that isn’t their concern.’

“Not their concern?” said Husk incredulously. “This has been their concern for weeks now! Everyone’s been working tirelessly to figure out a way to heal him. Everyone’s involved at this point!”

‘He’s healing,’ it hissed. ‘They do not need to concern themselves any longer.’

“Well shouldn’t we let them know that?” cried Husk. “So, they don’t have to worry anymore? And how the fuck is he even getting better right now anyways? He was practically on deaths door just yesterday but now he’s on the mend?” Husk got up close to his shadow, glaring at it. “I saw you force some sort of liquid down his throat. Looked an awful lot like the damned antidote that Vox dropped. How the fuck did you get a new one? WHERE did you get a new one?” Alastor could hear the beginning hisses of his shadow before Husk cut it off. “And DON’T say it’s not my concern!”

“Husk,” Alastor said weakly, drawing the twos attention. “Help me up.”

Husk moved to grab him and slowly pushed him up to a sitting position. Nifty scurried behind him, arranging his pillows so he could lean against his headboard. He let out a deep sigh as he leaned against it. He closed his eyes as he leaned his head against a pillow that Nifty quickly shoved behind him before his head could connect with the wall. “Thank you,” he said quietly to her, earning him a delighted noise.

He sat there for several seconds, reveling in the comfortable cushioning of the pillows. He waited for his heart rate to slow down once more, the little effort it took to sit up, taking more out of him than he wished to admit. But he was healing, he reminded himself. And it was all thanks to Vox.

“You know,” said Husk, breaking the silence. “There were scorch marks on your shirt and jacket too.” Alastor finally opened his eyes and turned to the side of the bed where the other still stood with crossed arms. “The kind you’d get from a fire.” He raised a single eyebrow. “Or lightening.”

Alastor barked out a laugh then, winching at the pain it caused. “Yes,” he said. “The kind you get from lightening.” He rubbed at his abdomen and then looked at his shadow. It loomed at the foot of the bed, staring at him with narrowed vacant eyes. Alastor shrugged. “He already suspects. There’s no use keeping it from him.”

His shadow did not respond, perhaps finding no real reason to keep the truth a secret. While Alastor didn’t know if he wanted to discuss this matter with the rest of the hotel, at least here, in this room with those who were all tied to him in one fashion or another, it was alright.

“Vox’s business partner recreated the antidote. The doll,” he said even though he didn’t think he actually needed to distinguish which one had done so. “That’s why Vox was so frantic to try and collect as much of the ruined antidote as he could. So he could take it back to her.”

“Fuck,” said Husk from beside him, his arms falling down to his sides in shock. “I knew the girl was smart, but I didn’t know she was that smart.”

Alastor hummed. “Me neither. When they had told me the other day during the Overlord meeting that she was working on recreating it I thought it was a pointless endeavor. Apparently, I was wrong.”

“Fuck,” said Husk again. “Fuck!” It seemed he was no longer able to think of any other words to say. “So, you’re cured then? Like for real, actually cured?”

Alastor looked at his wound. “I suppose we shall see.”

Husk ran a hand through the fur on his head. “Well shit. Then what was the damn scorch marks about?”

Alastor shrugged, refusing to look up. “Perhaps I stole it from him because he demanded some sort of payment for the thing.” A flash of guilt shot through him at the lie. Why was he even lying?

“Bullshit,” barked out Husk. “The damn kid has been worried sick about ya for weeks now. He wouldn’t have come here that first night in the first place to heal you, his goddamn rival, if he wasn’t. And then you should have seen him after you went to your room after he dropped the antidote. Frantic isn’t even cutting it.” Husk pointed an accusing finger at Alastor. “You did something to him. Pissed him off somehow.”

Alastor thought back to the bullet, that same blasted bullet. His fingers tingled with the phantom feel of the gun in his hand. He shut his hand into a tight fist to dispel the feeling. ‘Fucking do it’, he had shouted. ‘Please,’ he had said all those years ago.

Fuck.

“You have no idea,” said Alastor quietly.

“What the fuck?” said Husk with a slight edge of something. Panic? Disbelief? “Do you-do you feel fucking guilty??” Alastor looked up finally and gave a flimsy glare at the man. “Fucking Hell, you actually do! I can’t believe this. What shit could you have possibly done to actually feel guilty?” He glared at Alastor and got into his face, snarling at him. “You didn’t kill him, did you?? I swear to God, if you killed him-!”

“I didn’t kill him!” shouted Alastor, cutting Husk off. “He’s very much alive.” He just doesn’t want to be, he thought with dread. He sighed. “I didn’t hurt him. At least not physically.”

“Yeah well, you hurtin’ people in other ways is pretty much a given with you,” huffed Husk. Yes, he supposed that was true. “But at least you didn’t kill him. I guess that’s somethin’ especially with how you two have been goin’ at it for the past three decades now.”

“I never tried to kill him though,” said Alastor, not knowing why he felt the need to voice that. Especially given his reputation and his history with Vox. But he looked at Husk and suddenly wanted at least him to know this. “Not once did I ever actually want him dead. I might have tried to convince myself that I did once but in the end…I could never do it.”

Husk stared back at him. His shoulders lowered, looking suddenly older than the seventy something years he would perpetually be. “Yeah, boss. I know.”

Alastor furrowed his eyebrows. “You do?”

“Of course,” he said with a shrug. “I’ve known both of ya for decades now. The only other person who has the same amount of history with both of ya is Rosie. And she knows the same thing, guarantee it. If you actually wanted him dead, you would have killed him ages ago. You never hesitated to kill those who irritated you in the past before.”

When Husk put it that way it seemed obvious. How many Overlords had he killed over the years? How many souls had he sent off to the Mistress, before and after his time in Hell, without any hesitation? He was the merciless Radio Demon and yet for decades now, he had been dancing around killing the one person who dared to openly fight and mock him. He had killed people for less, countless times. And yet it wasn’t until just the other night that Alastor finally realized just how much Vox meant to him. He looked towards his shadow who stared back. The damned thing knew how he felt and yet still insisted on trying to get Alastor to kill Vox for years, manipulate him into doing it. He narrowed his eyes at it, and he saw it shift.

“If it makes you feel any better Vox has felt the same thing towards you after all this time too,” said Husk, noticing and misinterpreting the darkening mood of Alastor. “He never once wanted you dead either.”

Alastor’s abdomen ached as he remembered what it felt like to be hit by Vox’s electricity, right on his wound. If Vox hadn’t thrown him the untested antidote right before his shadow got him out of there, he would be dead right now.

My god, he nearly died. And Vox would have been the one to kill him.

Alastor shook his head. “He does now,” he said.

“What, because he hit you with lightening?” scoffed Husk. “The two of you have done worse to each other. Don’t mean he wants you dead.”

Alastor shook his head again. “He does now. Trust me.”

Husk huffed. After a couple of seconds of silence, he then said, “He gave you that antidote, right? Not like you actually stole it from him or anything.” The second part wasn’t a question. Husk knew Alastor hadn’t stolen it.

Alastor nodded. “Correct. In-between shooting me with his electricity.” He tried to keep the bitter tone from his voice. He had literally asked for it, after all.

“Yeah, but he gave it to you,” he said pointedly. “Because he doesn’t want you dead.”

Alastor scowled. “He said the antidote was untested. For all he knows it didn’t work, and I died choking on my own blood.” ‘I don’t care if you die choking on your own vomit,’ he had said. Alastor’s ears twitched.

“Yeah, but he gave you a chance. The best chance you’ve had this whole time, even after you pissed him off enough to shoot you with lightening, he still gave it to you,” argued Husk. “If he truly wanted you dead, he wouldn’t have bothered givin’ it to you.”

“He knew what shooting me with his electricity would do,” said Alastor. “The state that I’m in? I wouldn’t be able to regenerate, and he knew that.”

“Which is why he gave you the damn antidote!” said Husk in exasperation. “Look, I wasn’t there and I don’t know how things exactly went down but he gave you the damn antidote and here you are, alive. Sure, he shot you with electricity and you almost died because of it but you didn’t.”

Husk ran a hand down his face when Alastor didn’t respond. “Listen, the kid’s been in love with you for years.” Alastor’s ears lowered on his head, and he couldn’t help but look away. “I know that makes ya uncomfortable, but he loves you and he’s loved you despite how things ended up between you these past thirty years. If those feelings didn’t go away after all that, it hasn’t gone away now even after whatever you said or did to piss him off.”

Nifty shifted beside him on the bed, grabbing his hand. Alastor looked at her and she stared back at him with her sweet and innocent smile. It made him think of simpler times. Better times. Times when Vox would humor her and allow her to go on for hours-and-hours about her bug collection and cleaning and sewing. He would look up at Alastor as she rambled, wearing a lopsided and amused smile. “You weren’t there,” said Alastor, softly. “I really do think any feelings he had left for me are gone.”

“Then fucking apologize, Jesus Christ!” yelled Husk as he threw his hands into the air. “For some God-awful reason, you are finally acknowledging that you give a damn! I don’t know if being so close to your final death made you unstick you head from where it was stuck so far up your own ass or if it was the prospect of Vox actually thinking clearly and kicking you to the curb that did it, but now that you’re acknowledging your own feelings you’re going to what, just let him hate your guts forever without fighting for him? Get over your own ego and just apologize, for once!”

By the end of the tirade Husk was breathing heavily. Alastor, Nifty, and the shadow all stared at Husk for several seconds before realization seemed to strike him. Husk’s eyes widened slightly, and his ears flicked back. “You know, if y-you want to…boss.”

Alastor’s smile felt more genuine at that. Usually, he would have made Husk regret speaking to him in such a way, but he was feeling suddenly generous. Additionally, while he may be healing, he still felt rather weak and doubted he had much strength to do much to the cat. “Apologize, hhm?” he drawled. “Seems our lovely Princess has been rubbing off on you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Maybe she has. Whatever,” grouched Husk with crossed arms. “Doesn’t mean she ain’t right.”

“Hhm, perhaps,” drawled Alastor. “Even if she is though, I don’t know if I’m in any state to be having another emotional conversation with Vox. For the time being, I must gain more of my strength back. And you two,” he said, addressing both Husk and Nifty. “Will continue to keep the rest of the hotel away and none the wiser about what has happened here.” Husk opened his mouth to argue but Alastor raised a hand to stop him. “For the time being, that is. The state of my miraculous recovery will obviously have to come to light eventually, and how I had recovered. But for the time being, keep this between us.”

It wasn’t Charlie or Vaggie or Angel Dust he was concerned with finding out about his recovery. It wasn’t even Lucifer or Angel Dust’s little friend he cared about finding out. It was the Queen herself. He didn’t trust that the others would keep it a secret from her, and even if they did, they would surely ask questions. And right now, he couldn’t have the Queen find out that he no longer needed her antidote.

His shadow hissed inside his mind. Alastor stared back at it.

Husk sighed. “Fine. We won’t say shit. But you better at least make an appearance soon. I know Charlie’s antsy to see you and make sure you aren’t actually dead in here and me and Nifty have just been keeping it a secret.”

“Duly noted. Now leave me,” said Alastor without turning to his thralls. The two exited, leaving him alone with his shadow.
—————————————————————

Alastor stood frozen with one foot inside the kitchen, shocked at the sight before him. Two of the other occupants in the kitchen noticed his arrival and they both turned beaming smiles towards him.

"Alastor, darling! Father Boaz said you would be joining us, but I was beginning to worry you wouldn't make it!" said his mother who walked towards him and gave him a kiss on his cheek.

"Mother! What - what are you doing here?" he asked in a daze.

"Why I invited her!" said Jude as he walked up beside his mother. He placed a hand on her back, causing her to turn to him. "And I've told you multiple times now, please just call me Jude."

His mother laughed. "Right, right. It's just my upbringing. I see that white collar and I can't help but want to call you Father."

"Oh it's not a bother. You're not the only one who has that same problem. Thankfully your son never has!" he laughed.

His mother rolled her eyes. "Yes, unfortunately. Please, don't hold it against me. I did try my best to raise him to be a God-fearing young man."

Oh, there were far worse things to be afraid of than God, he knew. But this familiar argument was one that he did not want to get into right that moment. He had a far bigger issue. "Ok, and why would you invite her?" asked Alastor, staring at Jude.

Jude stared back at him in confusion. "She's been interested in the charity work I do with the homeless each week for ages now. And she knew you helped me on occasion too. When she asked to help out, how could I refuse?"

Alastor felt like he could feel a headache coming on. How could Jude think that it was alright to invite his mother to help prepare and serve food to the homeless considering the sort of meat he serves? Alastor could see a couple volunteers from behind the two, carrying various boxes of thawed meat to that same damned metal table that Alastor had helped Jude cut up corpses at on various occasions now. He knew that those boxes contained both of their latest victims, Tristan and his father. The fact that his mother had known Tristan only made the situation worse.

One of the other volunteers called to Jude, asking him a question. Jude moved to go assist the woman, but Alastor grabbed his arm tightly, preventing him from walking away. "If you don't mind, I'd like to have a discussion with you, privately," he said through gritted teeth.

Jude stared at him and could see that Alastor would not drop the topic. He nodded before turning to the volunteer. "If you'll give me one moment. I'll be back to help you shortly."

Jude allowed himself to be dragged out of the kitchen by Alastor who brought them to a secluded room stacked full of several spare tables and chairs. "What the HELL do you think you're doing?!" he whisper-yelled.

Jude reared back slightly. "Language, please. We are in a place of worship."

"I don't give a DAMN about where we currently are," he hissed. "All I care about is the fact that you have allowed my mother to help prepare food for your charity work!"

"It's Christmas Eve! This is our biggest turn out all year, we always can use the extra set of hands. And it is an admirable thing for her to want to aid those less fortunate. I see no problem-"

"No problem?!" cried Alastor, cutting him off. "How can you not see how there is a problem?"

Jude furrowed his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side. "I thought you saw the merits to what I do. In fact, you have even commented several times on how much you enjoy the stew that I prepare."

"That is beside the point!" He shook his head in disbelief. "My mother is a cook! A very good cook and one who manages a restaurant! She is MORE than familiar with different kinds of meat. What do you think she'll think when she sees the meat?!"

Jude shook his head. "I will tell her it's venison, like I tell everyone. I tell them I get it from a butcher, and they provide me with whatever sort of game animal they have on hand. I tell them I don't know what specific sort of game animal it is, so it cuts down on any sort of questions or suspicions people might have."

But that did not mean people did not still have suspicions. Alastor ran a hand down his face in exasperation. "How you have managed to escape detection this long while allowing so many different people close to your very own victims is beyond me," he groaned. "You are so reckless. And this is just one example of it! You tell people what sort of 'help' you can provide them far too often and early. You had barely even met Tristan, and you were already telling him about our crimes!"

"I never outright told him anything!" Jude said defensively. "You were there. You saw."

"Yes, I saw you being reckless," he deadpanned.

"Everything worked out in the end. His siblings are with their aunt and uncle. Their father will never hurt another soul again. And Tristan is at peace." He smiled and laid a gentle hand on Alastor's shoulder. "Everything is fine, Al. You don't have to worry."

Don't have to worry, he said. Ha! His mother was currently helping a group of volunteers prepare a stew consisting of human meat to be served to the public. How could he not worry? Alastor closed his eyes in exasperation. He felt Jude’s hand slip behind him and snake over to his other shoulder, his arm wrapped around him. The hand on his other shoulder squeezed him slightly. Alastor opened his eyes and looked at Jude who was smiling at him. "Relax, Al. No one's going to find out anything. Not even your mother."

Despite the panic still coursing through him, Alastor felt himself relax. Perhaps he was overreacting. Venison was non-specific enough that anyone with lingering questions could be assuaged of any doubts. He sighed. "Fine. But don't allow her to come back."

"Your mother is a rather stubborn and insistent woman, kind of like someone I know," he said as he pulled Alastor closer to himself. "It may be hard to keep her away."

"You'll figure out some sort of excuse," Alastor said with a roll of his eyes.

They heard a knock at the closed door. Jude called out for them to enter and saw the same volunteer that sought his help from earlier. They made their way back to the kitchen and saw his mother cutting up vegetables. Good. He hoped she would stick to the vegetables. He donned his usual apron and made his way to her to help.

"Ahh, there you are," she said, not even looking up. "Everything alright, then?"

He hummed. "Of course."

"Then why were you so upset about me being here?" she asked.

He sighed. "It's Christmas Eve. You shouldn't have to be here."

She huffed. "When have you ever cared for this holiday? I know I don't have to be here. But I want to. It's good to help out others. And besides," she finally looked up at Alastor. "I knew you were going to be here. I wanted to spend time with you."

He couldn't help but give her a small smile at that. "We will be seeing each other tomorrow."

"I know. But I wanted to be able to spend time with you AND your friend." She looked over her shoulder at Jude who was helping a group of other volunteers. The man noticed their gazes and beamed at them, offering a little wave with a pair of tongs. Alastor's mother chuckled and Alastor shook his head and rolled his eyes, but still smiled. When he looked away from the man it was to see his mother smiling up at him. "He's good for you. I'm glad you two found each other."

Alastor gave her a curious look but nodded. "He's a good friend."

She turned back to the vegetables and said softly. "Yes, of course. Friend."

What an odd response, he thought. He heard his shadow snicker inside his head. What was that for, he thought, but received no response. He internally grumbled at the creature's odd behavior too. Fine, if it was going to ignore him then he'd ignore it too and got to work helping cut the vegetables as he chatted with his mother. Eventually Jude pulled him away to help with cooking the meat, grateful that he was the one to be doing so and no one else. If Jude had asked his mother, he would have been livid. Jude laughed with him, distracting Alastor from the fact his mother was there with ease. Unknowingly, Alastor found himself starting to relax.

Once they began to pass out food, he found himself next to his mother once more, who enthusiastically passed out bowls of stew. Jude wasn't kidding when he said Christmas Eve was the biggest turnout they received. Jude had to eventually excuse himself to prepare for church service that evening, allowing his volunteers to handle the rest. Alastor was grateful for the crowd then, giving him an excuse for missing the service that he knew the man would otherwise beg him to attend. The night wore on and the remaining volunteers busied themselves with cleaning up, most of the stew having been eaten. There was the odd volunteer eating a bowl which Alastor resolutely ignored. He saw out of the corner of his eye, his mother staring at the large bowl of leftover stew.

"Darling," she said almost absentmindedly. He hummed. "What did your friend say this meat was again?"

He swallowed thickly. "Venison."

She hummed and then paused. "What sort of venison?"

Alastor shrugged as he kept his hands busy washing the dishes. "I'm not sure. Jude said it varies when he gets it from some butcher."

She nodded. "Deer is the most common, as you know."

"Of course," he said.

She was still staring down at the stew, moving it around with the large serving spoon. "This doesn't look like deer though." Alastor didn't know what to say to that, so he kept washing. "I wonder if it tastes like deer." And then she began to bring the large spoon to her mouth. There was a large piece of meat sitting right in the middle of the spoon. Alastor's heart skipped a beat as he saw her bring it closer-and-closer. Just as it was about to reach her mouth, he slapped the spoon out of her hand, splattering stew and the meat onto the ground. His mother stared in shock at the splatter and then at Alastor who stared wide-eyed back. He stood gaping at her, his mouth open and unable to form any sort of words or explanation for his actions. Thankfully, he was saved from coming up with any excuse when Jude walked up beside them then.

"There you two are! Still hard at work I see," he said. "You two have done so much today, everyone has. I'm so thankful for the work everyone has done for the church and this community," he said, turning towards the remaining volunteers who smiled at the praise. "Oh, and helping yourselves to what remains of the stew, I see." Some of the volunteers looked sheepish but Jude waved his hand at them. "Don't worry, help yourselves, help yourselves! I don't want anything to go to waste. Eat up!" He then turned back to Alastor and his mother. "But you two, don't go spoiling your dinner! I was going to take you two out for some dinner, my treat! While I can't fully support having a restaurant open on Christmas Eve night, it is a dear friend of mine's establishment, and he insists on keeping the place open on Christmas Eve. He says he can't afford to close early but I think he just enjoys staying open late that night to get out of spending more time with his parents. Not that I approve of such things either, mind you," he said with a wink. Alastor's mother smiled and Alastor slowly let out a sigh of relief at her distracted attention. Perhaps God truly was still looking out for him and had sent Jude to save him like the man insisted on several occasions.

And yet, even as they finished cleaning up and Jude locked up the church doors, Alastor couldn't help the lingering worry over his mother's questioning. Surely she wouldn't think more of it. Surely it was only a passing line of enquiry and not something she would think to question again, especially if she never helps volunteer again. But as he walked arm-in-arm with his mother and he sat at the table at Jude's friends restaurant, Alastor couldn't help but notice the lingering looks his mother kept shooting towards Jude, or the way some of her smiles didn't quite reach her eyes, or her laughs weren't always as warm as usual, or even the small line that lingered between her brows. Surely, she wouldn't think more of it, he told himself, even as he could feel the agitated twisting of his shadow at his feet. He was just being paranoid. Yes, paranoid, he told himself, nothing more. He told himself that too even as he thought he saw a shift in Jude's shadow out of the corner of his eye.

——————————————————————

‘You can’t keep this a secret from Lilith indefinitely. She will discover the truth, sooner rather than later,’ Alastor’s shadow hissed once they were alone.

“I know. And I don’t intend on keeping it a secret for long,” he said.

‘And what do you expect her to do once she finds out the truth?’ It drew closer to him, hovering over the bed. ‘She’ll go straight to the Mistress and let her know that not only you didn’t kill the television, but that he’s the one responsible for saving you. She’s wanted him dead for years now. This will only anger her more when she finds out you no longer have an insensitive to kill him. She’ll drag both of us into the void once more!’

Alastor cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. “And why is that? Her wanting him dead? What purpose would his death serve?”

‘He is an Overlord,’ it hissed. ‘You know how those are her favorites. The power they offer her. You’ve been killing Overlords under her command for years.’

“Yes, but it’s more than that. She’s instructed me to kill Overlords, but it’s never been a specific one. She’s just wanted Overlords; any would do. But Vox,” he snarled. “She’s wanted him specifically for years. Why?”

His shadow did not respond, angering Alastor who tore his gaze away. The creature knew and yet it did not want to tell him. For years it had kept things from him, kept secrets for Her. Manipulated him for HER. From the first moment of their association, he had been manipulated. He’d been forced to do things he didn’t want to do. No more. He wouldn’t let it push him to kill Vox.

Realization then struck him. His shadow shifted. That’s it. She wanted Vox dead because he refused to kill him. Because he was attached. Vox was the one thing standing between him and the Mistress having complete control over him.

It was so simple. Of course it was. After all, this wasn’t the first time.

Alastor looked up at the shadow who looked back at him almost warily. “She wants him dead because She doesn’t want me devoted to anyone else,” he said slowly. “She prefers me alone. She always has.” He furrowed his eyebrows as he thought of his sister. “You told me to kill her once. Said that I had to or else I’d risk discovery. Was that you asking me to do that or Her?”

If his shadow had pupil’s he was sure that he would have just seen the thing’s gaze shift to the side, avoiding his own. ‘She knew what you were. What you had done. There was a real threat of her turning you in.’

“Mimzy knew who and what I was, and she never turned me in, nor did you tell me to kill her!” cried Alastor. “And that’s not what I asked! Was it you telling me to kill her or Her??”

There was a long pause before his shadow hissed, ‘It was Her.’

Alastor stared at it in disbelief. “You knew what me killing her would have done. It would have torn her soul apart!”

‘What difference does it make if it was Her or I that told you to kill her?’ hissed the shadow as it got into Alastor’s face.

“At least if it was you that was asking, then I could fool myself into thinking you were just doing it to protect yourself and keep us both free. But you’re nothing more than Her lapdog, aren’t you?” snarled Alastor. “That’s all you’ve ever been. Her loyal little servant!”

‘You do not know what I am child!’ it screeched inside Alastor’s head, not allowing him to drown it out as he covered his ears. ‘You don’t know who I am! The torment I have suffered at the hands of Her! You think that seven years of torture in the void is a nightmare? You know NOTHING of true pain and suffering!’

Slowly the hissing retreated from Alastor’s mind, allowing his hunched shoulders to relax minutely. He removed his hands from his ear and glared at the shadow. “I don’t care about whatever suffering you’ve sustained.” The shadow bristled. “I don’t care about whatever She has done to you. You think you’re going to what, get sympathy from me?” Alastor leaned towards the shadow and snarled. “Fuck. You!” The shadow screeched. “You act as if you’re some great victim of Her’s and that you hate Her, but you do so much of Her bidding. You’ve tried to manipulate me to kill not just Vox but my own sister knowing fully well what that would mean! And why would that be something She would ever even ask me to do if you didn’t tell Her what they meant to me!” The shadow shrunk back at that. “Yes, that’s right. I know that She doesn’t have the same connection to me that She does to you. I can’t directly communicate with Her and She can’t read my thought like you can. If She knew what they meant to me and thought they needed to be killed to make me alone then it was YOU who told Her!”

Alastor felt a prickle in his eyes, surprising him. He blinked his eyes rapidly to banish the moisture he felt there but it persisted. “You are the one who has been with me since I was seventeen. You’ve been there every step of the way, and you told Her about them. You told Her how I felt when I didn’t even know myself what they meant to me.” He swallowed over a lump that formed in his throat and flared his nostrils at the heat that pooled there. “And you STILL tried to get me to kill both of them.”

The shadow stared at him, wilting slightly. Alastor turned away from it, no longer able to stare at those unseeing emotionless eyes.

‘You don’t know what it’s like,’ it hissed quietly. ‘To be stuck in the void for millenniums. When you are finally released, you would do anything to avoid it once more.’

Seven years was torture enough but to be there for millenniums? He couldn’t imagine it. And yet, he could not muster up any sort of sympathy or pity for the creature. Not after everything. Not after his mother. Now more than ever, he was sure of his suspicions.

He shook his head and felt the stinging in his eyes increase. “I don’t care about your excuses.” He looked up and glared at the shadow. “Just be honest with me for once. Did my mother die at the hands of the Mistress?”
————————————————————-

1918

Alastor’s hand tapped against his thigh anxiously as he stood in line to pay for his groceries. He had wanted to get the food and ingredients earlier, but he had been busy with his work for Her and with the droves of soldiers returning home with the end of the war, the city had been a madhouse ever since November. Thanksgiving was a nightmare, and things weren’t better now that it was Christmas Eve. Unfortunately, the last store he hadn’t checked was the one close to his mother’s house and still owned by his father’s family. He looked over his shoulder and hoped that none of them would spot him.

He looked at the watch on his wrist and silently cursed. He was going to be late if he didn’t hurry. He desperately didn’t want to disappoint his mother. Especially not even more.

Ever since last Christmas things had been…tense between them. Or rather different. He’d caught his mother staring at him and Jude on more than one occasion. Jude had kept his promise and not allowed his mother to volunteer at the church again, which seemed to only make matters worse. She had brought it up on several occasions, outright asking Jude in front of Alastor why he wouldn’t allow her to volunteer. Jude had laughed and said he didn’t need any more volunteers, that he had plenty. His mother clearly didn’t believe the man.

Mimzy had joked with Alastor and Jude, saying that she was just overprotective of her little boy and that she only wanted to make sure that Jude was treating him right. Alastor furrowed his eyebrows in confusion when she said that, saying that his mother didn’t afford the same level of scrutiny to her, and she was also his friend. Mimzy had rolled his eyes and muttered under her breath how hopeless he was and oblivious and then asked Jude how he could put up with him. Jude had just smiled and put a hand on Alastor’s lower back and said that Alastor certainly didn’t always make it easy.

Alastor stepped forward as the cashier motioned to him once he was done with the last customer. Alastor quickly placed his items down and pulled his wallet out to fish out some bills, discreetly scanning the store for the owners. The cashier smiled as he took Alastor’s money and then passed the change back. He nodded and grabbed his items and turned to make his quick getaway and internally cheered at his success.

His good fortune clearly was false for just as he was about to step out the doors, it opened and a child barreled right into his legs, causing him to drop several of his items. Alastor stared down at his fallen food and his shoulders drooped. The child gasped. “I’m so sorry, mister!” she cried and then bent down to quickly start grabbing the food. While some of the items were fine, the eggs clearly were not.

“Grace! What did I tell you about running around like that,” reprimanded the mother who stepped through the door soon afterwards. “I’m so sorry, sir. Allow us to replace your damaged food. It’s the least we could…” And then she trailed off.

Alastor finally looked up, frowning deeply as the child continued to grab food, manhandling everything. Once he made eye-contact with the woman he froze. He hadn’t seen her in years, but the woman’s face was still just as familiar and had barely changed in the years since he saw it last. He’d never even spoken to her, yet he was familiar with her all the same.

“My God,” she whispered. “You look just like-” She then cut herself off and a line formed between her eyebrows. Alastor stiffened.

The child stood up and thrust his bags towards him. “There you go, mister. I’m realllly sorry about making you drop all your groceries. Let me go get you some new eggs!” And before he or the girls’ mother could stop her, she shot off through the store in search of the eggs.

Alastor turned back to the woman and gave her a quick nod. “It’s fine. I don’t need the eggs. You have a good day, ma’am.” He then attempted to sidestep the woman to quickly leave but she grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks. Oh, he was so close!

“No, really. It’s no bother at all. Please, let us get you new eggs. It’ll only take a moment,” she said.

“I really must be going,” Alastor said as he tried to pull his arm back. “I must be meeting with someone.”

“It’ll only take a moment, truly!” she said. “My in-laws own the store. We won’t even have to go back through the check-out line. You’ll be in-and-out in no time.” Alastor stared down at the woman and then looked back up, scanning the store. “It’s ok,” she said softly. “They aren’t working today. You’ve got some time. You don’t have to worry about running into any of them.”

Alastor’s head whipped back down to the woman, stunned. She clearly knew who and what he was and knew that her in-laws wouldn’t approve of him sneaking into the store, just as he used to do as a child. And yet here she was, trying to help him in more than one way.

She slowly let go of his arm and only took a step back once she was sure he wouldn’t bolt. She then awkwardly started twisting her hands together. Alastor was still debating just leaving but he didn’t want to show up at his mother’s house without any eggs.

“You know,” began the woman. “I’ve seen you around town, from time-to-time. And heard you on your radio. It’s a great broadcast, truly. Gracie just loves it.” She smiled. Gracie. Grace. That was the child. The little girl. The one who he had made an orphan.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he said lamely. He internally kicked himself and his shadow snickered in his head. He told it to keep quiet.

“Yes, she insists on listening to your broadcast before going to bed, each night. It’s a nightmare trying to get her to go to bed otherwise.”

Alastor simply hummed, not knowing what more to say. The two lapsed into silence once more and Alastor wondered where the girl was. Surely it didn’t take this long to get eggs from a store owned by her own grandparents.

Finally, she came bounding around an aisle, carrying the eggs in her arms. Alastor cringed, worried the girl would drop the new set of eggs once more. Her mother yelled at her to slow down, which the girl thankfully obeyed. She walked the last couple of steps slowly and carefully towards Alastor before handing him the carton. “Here you go, mister. Your eggs. And here’s a chocolate bar. It’s my favorite! It’s a sorry for breaking your eggs.”

Alastor took the items and looked down at the earnest young girl. She smiled up at him, dimples on each cheek. Thankfully she looked so much like her mother. She didn’t look like her father at all. Except for her nose. And the shape of her eyes. They looked just like Alastor’s. He swallowed thickly.

With great effort, Alastor smiled down at the girl. “Thank you. I greatly appreciate it.”

The girl scrunched up her face in concentration and frowned when she heard his voice. She likely was trying to pinpoint how she recognized it. He quickly said, “Well, if you don’t mind. I must be off.” And then finally fled the store. Once in his car, he let out a sigh of relief. He knew going into that store was a bad idea and yet he had no other choice. He couldn’t disappoint his mother.

He made the short drive to the docks and saw the two boats that belonged to his mother docked at her own personal dock. Years ago, when he moved out, he had convinced her to let him buy her an entire dock to herself with two boats, allowing for him to see her whenever. She’d initially been reluctant, but she came around to the idea. He frowned at the sight of both boats there, indicating his mother wasn’t home.

She should have been home at this time. She was the one who had insisted on Alastor coming to her house for Christmas Eve to have him help her with preparations. And yet here she was now, somewhere in the city. He turned around and looked down the street at the meandering people. He didn’t see his mother amongst them.

Should he wait for her, he wondered. He looked down at his bags of groceries. Most weren’t perishables. He could wait.

And so he waited. An hour went by. And then another. And still no sign of his mother. The sky was starting to darken as the sun dipped down over the horizon.

Was she at the Alligator Club? Surely, she had to be, and she had just forgotten about their agreement. He got into his car and made his way towards the club, the whole trek there his thumb was tapping against the steering wheel. He got out of the car once he parked and forced himself not to run inside.

“Al?” Alastor’s head whipped to the side once he entered the club. Mimzy walked towards him with a raised eyebrow. “What are ya doin’ here? I thought you and your mama were cookin’ today.”

“We are. But I saw her boat docked here in town. She’s not home so I came here to see if she was working.”

“She ain’t been here at all today. If she ain’t home, then I don’t know where she’d be.”

The loose hold Alastor had on his anxiety broke and he ran a hand through his hair in worry. Mimzy placed a hand on his arm. “Hey,” she said softly. “I’m sure she’s alright. Did you actually go to her house? Maybe she’s there.”

“Then how would both her boats be docked here in town.” He shook his head. “No. She’s somewhere here in town.”

“Well maybe just try checkin’. It’s worth a shot, right?” She said.

He nodded. “Right. I’ll go check.” He turned around to make a quick exit when Mimzy called out to him. “And if I see her, I’ll let her know you’re lookin’ for her!” Alastor waved at her in thanks and got back into his car.

His shadow popped up next to him and hissed, ‘Are you really going to go to her house? You know she’s not there.’

“Yes well where else am I supposed to look?” he said in agitation. “If she’s not here then she has to be at home. She has to be.” The last part was barely a whisper, more meant for himself than the shadow.

‘What of the church?’ it hissed. Alastor briefly turned and looked at it before looking back at the road before him. ‘You know she’s been suspicious of the priest. Perhaps she is there.’

“For several hours?” he asked, shaking his head. “Why?”

‘How should I know?’ it hissed. ‘But why not at least check.’

Alastor thought on that. It couldn’t hurt to at least check. At the very least, he could have another person help him search for his mother. He knew Jude would drop whatever he was doing to help him.

Alastor took a turn and started towards the church.

His anxious mind wondered as he drove, thinking of his mother and Jude. 'You hear the voice of God and his angel's', Jude had said. 'I know, for I've heard you mutter to yourself. I do too,' he said. Jude had heard him talk to his shadow. And Alastor had heard him talk to himself - or something, too. He told himself that surely his friend was just not well. He was a cannibal, after all. Of course he wasn’t. But then again, so was Alastor.

No, he told himself. His friend wasn't crazy. And he wasn't something else. His shadow hissed.

He arrived at the church, pulling up front in the same spot when he brought the Bishop to the doorstep. Night had fully fallen, shrouding him and the street in darkness. Alastor got out of the car, shutting the door with far more force than he intended. He took the steps, two at a time, and grabbed the doors handle. He furrowed his eyebrows when he found it locked. He tried again, and still locked. Alastor looked at his wristwatch and found it to barely be six at night. Jude never locked the doors this early. He banged on the doors but there was no answer. He banged some more and more.

"Jude! Are you in there? Open up!" he shouted. "I need your help!"

Finally, Alastor heard the grinding turn of the old locks and then the doors opened up, barely a foot. Jude stared back at him with wide, startled eyes. The man was heaving, and his hair was disheveled. Alastor frowned. “Jude, what’s going on? Let me in. I need your help!”

Alastor moved to push the door open further, but Jude held fast, resolutely refusing to move. Alastor looked at him in confusion. “I-I’m sorry, Al. But I can’t let you in.”

“What? What are you talking about? You always let me in,” he said in annoyance. “And I’m asking for your help, Jude. I’m looking for my mother.”

Jude’s eyes flashed with something, looking at Alastor with what was that – fear? “You’re mother? S-she’s missing?” His voice sounded high pitched and strained. Alastor had never heard him sound like that. After all the people he had seen and known the man to kill, not once did he sound so distraught.

“Yes, now you can see why I’m so desperate and need you to let me in-” Alastor moved to push the door again, but Jude then slammed one hand against the other door, blocking Alastor’s way and preventing him from entering the church. Alastor looked at the arm and Jude, startled.

“What the Hell do you think you’re doing?” barked out Alastor, anger starting to take over. “I come here asking you for help to find my mother and you what, are turning me away?” Alastor felt hurt. Here he was asking for help from his best friend – wait, best friend? Yes, that’s what Jude is to him. His best friend. And his best friend was not only refusing to help but telling him to leave.

That’s when Alastor saw tears gathering in Jude’s eyes and saw the man’s face begin to twist into something sad and devastated. “I’m so sorry, Alastor. Truly, I am.”

He was sorry? For what? For making him leave? Alastor furrowed his eyebrows, and he looked down and saw a wetness on the man’s dark sleeve. Alastor shot his arm forward quickly and grabbed onto his wrist where he saw the wetness. Jude reared back, pulling his arm away from Alastor but in the process leaving an opening for Alastor to push his way inside. Alastor shoved Jude back and took several steps into the church. Alastor then looked down at his hand that had grabbed ahold of Jude’s wrist and saw…blood.

A chill ran down Alastor’s spine.

Jude’s hands were on him, attempting to manhandle him and push him back out but Alastor did not budge. Slowly, Alastor looked up towards the altar and saw right there, at the base of the altar, almost like a sacrifice, a body. Alastor’s eyes widened and Jude paused when he noticed the direction of Alastor’s gaze. Alastor took slow steps forward.

“No wait!” cried Jude, but Alastor ignored him even as he continued to claw at Alastor. “Stop! You mustn’t go any further! Alastor!”

But Alastor kept going forward and with each step his speed increased. The last couple of steps towards the body, the woman, he was practically sprinting. Alastor skidded to a stop before her and froze, his fear hammering inside his chest, ready to burst through his ribs. His vision blurred, swimming in and out of focus. Yes, that’s it. His eyes are just deceiving him. He blinked rapidly, attempting to clear his vision but once it did the image before him was the same.

There, right before the alter, lay his mother’s crumbled form, with a gaping wound at her neck and blood pooling beneath her. Her eyes were staring vacantly forward towards the giant cross, unseeing anything, even her own son as Alastor tentatively walked around her to be able to look down at her face more clearly.

“Mother?” he whispered, but there was no answer. “Mama?” Of course there would still be no answer.

Alastor fell to his knees, coating his pants in his mother’s own tacky blood. He shuffled slowly forward and raised two shaking hands towards her, hovering over her body but not touching. If he touched her then it would be true, right? It would shatter any sort of delusion that this was just a nightmare. Just a terrible nightmare. It was his unconscious mind conjuring up the worst possible thing it could imagine, brought on by the newly tumultuous relationship that they had found themselves in. That’s all this was. Nothing more.

But then his trembling fingers brushed against his mother’s soft curls and the damn broke.

Alastor pulled his mother’s cooling body into his arms as tears fell down his face and great hiccupping sobs tore from his throat. “Mama, mama, please. No, no, no, no!” He was blabbering, begging for it not to be true. Begging who? He didn’t know. His mother. Himself. God. The Mistress. Anyone who would listen. But there was only one who was listening.

“I’m sorry,” came the barely there whisper. Alastor almost missed it over his cries. “I’m so sorry, Alastor. So, s-sorry.”

Alastor looked up and through his tears he saw Jude, standing there and staring at Alastor and his mother with a distressed look. Tears were falling from his eyes too. “What happened?” Alastor demanded. “Who did this?” Jude just stared. “WHO?!” he shouted, startling the priest.

Alastor then looked back down at his mother and stared at the giant gaping cut at her neck. He saw the damaged inside with a cut through her esophagus. She never stood a chance at surviving her wound. He then noticed her wide open eyes. She was awake when she died. Conscious. Oh God, how terrified must she have been? What pain too?

“You did this.” It wasn’t a question. “You killed her,” Alastor said in a whisper, and knew he was right.

Alastor reached up and gently closed her eyes. There. She now could almost look like she was sleeping. He then laid her back down into her own blood, making sure to mind her head so she didn’t bang it against the hard floor. And then he got to unsteady feet, swaying slightly as he watched his mother sleep for several moments.

“Al?” came the tentative voice of Father Boaz.

Alastor shot forward and grabbed the man suddenly, one hand coming around the back of his neck and the other fisting in his dark robes as he dragged the priest to the altar. Boaz shouted out in alarm as he was thrown down to the ground, his robes mixing with Alastor’s mother’s blood who lay behind him. Alastor grabbed ahold of Boaz’s hair and pulled his head back, forcing the priest to stare up at Alastor’s wrathful face with God’s cross, looming behind him.

“You killed her!” he yelled. “Say it! Say it!”

Father Boaz began to weep in earnest, and he clasped his hands before him, as if he was in prayer. “Yes,” he sobbed. “I killed her!”

Despite knowing, it was still a giant blow at hearing the words. “Why?” he gasped out, not understanding.

Jude tried to shake his head but was stopped by the fingers still twisted in his hair. “I-I didn’t mean to. I swear!”

“You didn’t mean to?” Alastor said in disbelief. “How do you just not ‘mean to’ murder my own mother!?!” Spit flew from his mouth, hitting the priests face. Alastor was burning with rage.

“She knew!” Jude said desperately. “She suspected what I did. What you did! You know this. All year she’s wondered, and she came to me. Today!” Jude unclasped his hands and tried to grab Alastor’s jacket, but he threw the man’s hands away. “She asked me, Al, she asked me if I killed Tristan. You remember him, right? That poor boy we saved. And his siblings that you saved. We saved them and she knew. She knew and I-I panicked! I did! It was like Sister Daniela all over again. I acted in order to protect myself. Us!”

Alastor felt like he was going to be sick. This man he called his best friend, this disgusting creatin, had murdered his mother to protect them? Darkness was encroaching in, shadows growing and creeping towards them.

“Please, Al. Please, I regretted it immediately,” whimpered Father Boaz. “I regret it, I regret it, I regret it.” He hiccupped and his lips trembled. “I’m so sorry, Al. Please, please, please, I’m sorry.” He reached a shaking hand towards Alastor again, this time Alastor did not shake the hand off as he grabbed onto his jacket. “You have to believe me. I never wanted to do anything to hurt you. I love you.” Father Boaz sucked in a deep breath at his own admission. “I love you. We are the same. We’re two halves. Please, Al, please forgive me!!”

Alastor watched as he continued to blubber, pathetic and whimpering as he wallowed in his guilt. Good. He deserved to suffer for what he did.

And yet, there was some small part of him, deep inside, that shied away from the pitiful display. It made him uncomfortable, and his hand itched to try and soothe the pain.

Alastor reached his free hand down to Father Boaz’s wet cheek, startling the man who looked up with fear and guilt. A frown still marred the usually smiling face. Now that just won’t do. Alastor released his hold of the priest’s hair and brought it to the man’s other cheek, cradling his face gently. Alastor kneeled down and Father Boaz looked at him with barely contained hope.

Alastor then smiled. He smiled despite all the pain and the storm still raging inside of him. Father Boaz then smiled too, his shoulders relaxing and his guard lowering, completely unaware of what was truly going on behind Alastor’s mask.

“Oh Jude, my dearest sweetest friend,” he said in a soft, soothing voice. The priest leaned his head into one of Alastor’s hands where his thumb slowly stroked his tears away. “I could never love you.” Father Boaz froze, his body stiffening. “You killed my mother,” he whispered in the same sickeningly sweet voice. “And now I’m going to kill you.”

All at once Alastor pushed the man down and onto his back and his hands flew to his throat, squeezing impossibly hard. Father Boaz clawed at Alastor’s hands and pushed at Alastor’s face, but he could not get away, he could not escape his fate. Tendrils of shadow slithered around the priests’ wrists, pinning them by his head. Father Boaz stared up at him with wide eyes, nearly bulging out of his face. All the while Alastor stared down at him with a wide and twisted grin. Shadows withered all around them and Alastor could hear a maniacal laugh echoing through the church, bouncing off the high ceilings. He was only distantly aware that it was his own laugh.

Then slowly the struggle stopped.

Alastor released his hold of his former friends’ neck, finger by finger. He was breathing heavily, almost as if compensating for the fact the other man no longer was. How odd, there still was no smile on the man’s face. That’s ok, because Alastor would fix that in due time.

The shadows receded all at once and in the renewed light, Alastor’s attention was drawn back to his mother. She still lay there where Alastor had left her, looking peaceful in her never-ending slumber. The false and demonic smile that Alastor had donned finally fell and his lip began to tremble.

He got off of the deceased priest and crawled over to his mother. He brought her into his arms once more and he buried his face into her shoulder. He rocked back and forth.

“Please,” he gasped out. “Please don’t let this be true. Oh please.” He still wasn’t quite sure who he was pleading to until he looked up and saw his shadow staring silently back at him. His vision felt like it was narrowing and there were shadows dancing unnaturally just outside of his narrow field of view. Was it his own shadow? Was it his mind playing tricks on him? Was it something else? Oh please, let it not be something else, he thought, knowing fully well his shadow could hear him.

Alastor believed it may have tried to speak to him, try to reassure him, but he could not hear it. He was too lost in his own torment as he clutched to his mother and begged anyone who would listen to take him instead.
———————————————————————-

“Did my mother die at hands of the Mistress?”

She stared back at the child, his smile twisted into a straining snarl, unable to fall due to her own handiwork decades ago. She could hear his twirling thoughts and feelings, distrust, anger, resentment, fear. All familiar emotions for the child. They weren’t unfamiliar to her either.

She felt a flash of rage at the pitiful child. What did he know about TRUE misfortune? True terror and pain? Life was unfair, he had thought. Life was a tragedy, he whined. Oh, he didn’t know what real tragedy was.

“Answer me!” He bellowed.

She hissed but kept herself from throwing vitriol at him. She saw a tremble in his still weak form that she knew wasn’t from any lingering pain. One of the benefits of always being inside his mind made it so she knew the child better than he knew himself. He was trying to push the fear down and let the more volatile emotions come to the forefront, but fear was the source of all of it. He was afraid for his mother. He’d always been afraid for her. That was the reason why he was here, the two of them connected in the first place, his soul no longer his own.

Despite herself she felt a flash of sympathy for the boy. The love and devotion of a mother and son. It made her think of her boys. The both of them.

She hated the Mistress for pairing her with this child. She knew it was meant as further punishment and torture. For every time she looked at him, she was reminded of her boys, forever separated from the two of them.

She felt a growl in the back of her throat.

Here was the boy demanding answers to the death of his mother. And what was she doing? Refusing him? And for what? Her??

He’d said it himself; he knew she hated the Mistress. What use was it to continue to pretend otherwise? She wasn’t a devoted follower, and she never had been. She pretended in order to protect herself and for what? To continue to exist in the void?

This boy was willing to end himself permanently rather than go back there. He was willing to take what little control of his life he had left and save the one he cared for most. But what was she willing to do? Continue to be a slave to Her and her cursed existence? She had allowed others to dictate her life from the very beginning with barely any fight. But this boy, oh this boy was willing to fight tooth and nail to get what he wanted even when he was told he had no choice.

“Tell me now what happened to her!!” Screamed the child as he pushed himself up onto unsteady legs and strode towards her with purpose despite the pain she could feel lancing through his abdomen. He truly was a force to be reckoned with.

She made a decision. And for the first time in a long time, she chose mercy. ‘I do not know,’ she said truthfully but she could still feel the distrust from the boy. ‘Truthfully, I do not. She relays information to me but not all, as you know. And I can honestly say, I have no idea if the priest was one of Hers.’

Despair flowed off the child at her response. It was not what he was expecting or hoping for.

“So y-you do not know if she was sent to Heaven or her soul was torn apart?” He asked with a trembling voice.

She shook her head. ‘I do not.’

“But how can you not know!” He yelled. “When I killed those back on earth you always knew who was dark and who wasn’t and where they would go!”

‘I could see the darkness in their souls and extrapolate where they would go, true, but unlike when souls go to Her, I cannot feel when souls go to Him or just his kingdom.’

“But what about Jude! How can you not feel if he had a soul like you? How can you not tell if he wasn’t on Her chain as well??” His eyes were frantic as he stared at her, desperate for answers.

‘You cannot tell either. Why would I?’

“Because I’m not like you! I’m not as far gone! I still have my body and autonomy!” He shouted. “I haven’t lost myself as much to Her as you have!”

‘And so you think that means I’d be better to tell than you?’ She snarled in his face, making him stumble back a step or two. ‘I am no longer flesh and bone! I am no longer something that resembles human! I have lost myself, as you say, and so what hope of feeling or sensing more do you truly think that I have?!’ If she could draw breath, she would be heaving.

She slowly retracted from him, shrinking her form down to something more reasonable. She hadn’t realized she had consumed the room in near-total darkness. The child’s legs gave out beneath him as he flopped back onto his bed. He stared down at his trembling hands

“So, you truly have no idea if my mother’s soul even still exists?” He asked in a whisper but was more than loud enough in his mind.

‘No,’ she said.

He closed his eyes and leaned forward, placing his head in his hands. Despair rolled off of him. She could hear his spiraling thoughts as he thought of how he had failed her. How he had worked so hard to protect her, but his actions may have doomed her in the end. She understood the sentiment.

“Please,” he said. “Help me keep him from dying too. From having his soul shattered.”

‘She’s already ordered you to end him twice,’ she said in incredulity. ‘Now that you are not a moment from death, what hope do you think there is in preventing that from happening? Even if you do not carry it out yourself, She is likely to kill him to torture you.’

“Lilith,” he said. “She’s the key. If I can get her to keep quiet then that’ll give me time to think of a way to convince Her to let me keep him-”

‘Convince Her?’ The thought was laughable. ‘You are a fool if you think you can convince Her to do anything She does not already want to do. And Lilith? That bitch? She would sooner throw you into the void herself then willingly keep your secret for you.’

The boy looked up at her, with wild, determined eyes. She could hear and feel the first blossoms of a mad idea in his head. “She will if I convince her that the Mistress has ordered us here to kill Charlie.”

She hissed. While she wasn’t completely sure if that was not their end goal anyways, the fact of the matter was she had been frustratingly ambiguous about what they were supposed to do at the abominations little hotel. ‘Keep an eye on her,’ She had said. ‘Guide and protect her. She is important.’

Protecting her went very much against the idea of killing her. Even if protecting the abomination was only meant for a short while until her true purpose was later revealed. But then again, Lilith’s already suspected they had ill intentions for her daughter, ordered by the Mistress.

In her silence, the child seemed bolstered. “If we convince her that the Mistress wants us to eventually kill her, deliver her to the Mistress, whatever, and tell Lilith that we would be willing to work with her to prevent that in exchange for her keeping quiet about Vox then maybe I can buy enough time until I can think of something else.”

‘You mean until you can ‘convince’ the Mistress?’ she scoffed.

His ears lowered to his head. “It’ll buy me time.”

She shook her head in disbelief and exasperation. She felt his fragile hope and determination despite him not fully believing in his own plan. It reminded her of her son. Reckless and willing to fight for this despite the odds against him.

‘You do understand how foolish this is, right? To not only try and lie to Lilith but the Mistress as well? All of us are likely to wind up in the void once more, tortured for the rest of eternity, with your friend dead despite it all.’

His smile twisted at the ends and his shoulders hunched. She could feel his hope dwindling and she couldn’t help but internally curse at herself for being so soft for the foolish boy. ‘Fine,’ she eventually said, his ears flicking up. ‘I will help you lie to Lilith AND to Her.’ And there was that damned hope blossoming inside of him. ‘But we must be careful about this. Smart. We can’t be reckless about this or we’ll all perish.’

She could hear him running over plans inside his mind, eager to get started but heeding her warning, thankfully. The boy’s exhaustion eventually took over and he drifted off to sleep even as he futilely tried to beat it off. She smoothly maneuvered the boy to lay more comfortably in his bed, pulling the blanket up to his chin. He looked peaceful like this, like the child he was when they first met. But he had been twisted by his deal and her own influence over the years, turned into something dark and deadly.

And yet after all these years, all this time, something soft and caring was still buried deep inside of him. It would be easier if that spark had been extinguished years ago. She had thought it had when he murdered his friend and clutched to his mothers corpse. She had tried to sooth him, but he did not trust her anymore, thinking she had hid the truth about the priest from him, but she truthfully did not know if he had been on the Mistress’s leash. And she doubted she ever would.

But then his sister came into his life, and then left. And the spark still was there. And then the television, the pathetic Sinner he met on that rooftop, came into his life. And then left as well. But the spark still prevailed.

She sighed as she watched the child sleep. She shouldn’t be so hard on him for desperately holding onto the last threads of his humanity. Even she, after she had been turned into nothing more than a wisp, a shadow, a curse, still desperately clung onto her own spark. Her boys, her lovely, sweet boys. She looked at the child and she kicked herself for again, being reminded of her boys.

Notes:

In 1917 and then 1918:
Alastor is 27 and then 28

The name Tristan means sad or melancholy.
The name Daniela is the female version of Daniel which means “God is my judge”. She is the nun that was mentioned in the previous chapter that Jude murdered.

In the Bible, Judas is regretful of his actions for betraying Christ. The Bible implies that regret came too late and that he was not truly remorseful, however. It’s up to you whether or not this Jude was truly remorseful or not.

Some historical facts:

In WWI there were certain things that made men exempt from the draft. For instance, certain medical and physical characteristics made some exempt, such as being deaf in one ear. Certain jobs could make someone exempt too if their profession was deemed important at and necessary, such as being a priest. Thus, both Alastor and Jude weren’t sent off to war. WWI also ended on November 11th, 1918.

 

So we finally got to Alastor’s mother’s death. I had always intended her to die at the hands of Jude but I was struggling how to write that and how to get her to the point she started having suspicions. It took me so long to write the backstory stuff in this chapter, meanwhile the modern day stuff was super easy. I think partly it’s because I wish I had more time to write and develop the relationship between Alastor and Jude, which is a VERY important relationship he had that shaped a large part of who he is. Jude was the first person he truly felt like he could let in all the way, or at least as much as Alastor ever has. And it was from another man who confessed his love to him. Clearly that’s going to impact him and how he treats “partnerships” going forward. Definitely has had an impact on his relationship with Vox which was reminiscent of Jude’s to an extent. I hope I sufficiently made it gut wrenching.

I originally was going to have it be just before thanksgiving for when Alastor’s mother dies but then I took so long for this story to come out and I was like hey, it’s Christmas Eve right now when I’m posting this. Might as well make it Christmas Eve too for the start and end of his mother suspecting things to her dying.

I really don’t think it’ll be as long between this chapter and the next especially since the holidays are coming to an end and also I already have got part of the next chapter done. So fingers crossed it’ll be quick!

Again, merry Christmas and happy holidays! And as always, stay tuned until next time!

Chapter 20: A Wedding and a Death

Summary:

It's 1936 and a wedding takes place. Then a tragedy.

In the present, Vox is numb. Aimless. Velvette has a plan but Vox may have fucked it upl

Notes:

Hey! Look at me! Not taking a full month to update! Yay!

TW for this chapter: drug use, dub-con and implied SA, minor character/OC death

1936

“You may now kiss the bride!”

Xavier leaned forwards for the kiss, closing his eyes as the audience cheered. He held onto his bride’s upper arms as she placed her hands gently onto his chest. There were a couple whistles from the rowdier spectators, making the two smile into their kiss.

He pulled back and grabbed her hand as they walked down the aisle, rice being thrown at them that they ducked. Once outside the church doors they shuffled past the crowd and paparazzi and piled into the back of the waiting car. Inside the relative quiet and safety of the car, the two let out a sigh of relief.

“Lord, look at them. Vultures, the whole lot of them!” grouched out Grace. “I thought that Harvey said he was going to keep this hush-hush?”

“He was supposed to,” scowled Xavier, looking behind them as the car drove away. “But I wouldn’t put it past him to leak it to the press that we were having our wedding in Jackson of all places. He wasn’t particularly happy we weren’t having a big wedding back in LA."

Grace shook her head. “That man’s the biggest vulture of them all, I swear! When we get to the reception, I’m going to give him a piece of my mind!”

“Grace, no, don’t,” he said as he grabbed her hand, squeezing. “Just – drop it.”

“No!” she cried, shooting Xavier an accusatory look. “This is OUR wedding. OUR day. If we wanted a small and quiet wedding, then we should be allowed to have that. I don’t care if we’re his big money makers.” Xavier sighed, angering Grace further. “And I hate that you always do that! Let him walk all over you and me. I don’t care if he’s the one who discovered us. There’s a line that he shouldn’t cross.”

That never stopped the man before, he thought bitterly. At least Harvey never crossed that line with Grace. He made sure of that.

Xavier shifted awkwardly in his seat as he avoided Grace’s eyes. He hated arguing about Harvey, they always argued in circles and never got anywhere. Grace barely tolerated the man, believing him too familiar and that he dictated too much of their lives. Xavier agreed, oh how he more than agreed, but he couldn’t, and wouldn’t, tell Grace that. He always came to the man’s defense despite how much it made his skin crawl just thinking about him. Xavier had wished that at the very least he could have escaped the man during his wedding but not inviting their boss was simply not an option.

Xavier looked down at their clasped hands. He brought his other hand to them and began to stroke the back of Grace’s. “Can we – just not argue about this today? Please? Harvey’s an ass, sure. Can’t argue with that. But it’s our wedding day, can we please just…try and be happy? Despite everything?”

Grace suddenly softened as she looked at Xavier. She brought her free hand to his face and turned his face towards her. “Oh Xavier. Enough with that. I chose this and I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that I’m more than happy with you. You’re my best friend. How many married couples can say that?” she said with a gentle smile.

Xavier shot a quick glance towards the driver before scooting closer to Grace and lowering his voice so the man couldn't hear. “Yes but, it’s not like I can give you everything that you want and deserve. I can’t-”

Grace placed one finger on his lips, silencing him. “Hush. You’ll give me more than most husbands. Believe me, I know. This ain’t my first rodeo, remember?”

Over the years Grace had revealed more and more about her less-than-ideal past. Her tumultuous relationship with her brother was only part of it. From what Xavier had gathered, Grace’s first marriage was rather…unhappy, to the say the very least.

“How ‘bout this?” began Grace quietly. “I won’t tear Harvey a new one today and you won’t bring up your reservations about marrying me. It’s a little late for any lingering hesitation now anyways,” she said with a smirk, pointedly wiggling her left hand with her ring in front of his face. “You’re stuck with me, mister.”

Xavier smiled. “I think I would be stuck with you even without the lavender marriage,” he said in a whisper.

“That’s right! And don’t you forget it!”

Soon enough their car pulled up to the old manor where their reception was to take place. When they had booked the venue, the owner was thrilled. There weren’t many booking the expensive and historic venue since the beginning of the depression. A crowd was already waiting for them outside the manor with cameras.

Xavier squeezed Grace’s hand as they braced themselves to be bombarded once more. They pushed their way through the crowd and were met with Harvey and a couple employees of the venue who ushered them quickly inside. As the doors of the manor closed behind them, muffling the noise from outside, Harvey dramatically sighed. “Boy! What a crowd! I really have no idea how they found out where your wedding would be!” He patted Xavier on the shoulder who attempted not to flinch away. Grace discreetly squeezed his hand tightly. He knew she was struggling badly to keep her comments to herself. “But now that they’re here it certainly can’t hurt for the two of you to have such publicity. In this day in age, there won’t be a person who isn’t positively uplifted by such a beautiful modern love story!”

The iron grip at his hand was actually starting to hurt so Xavier expertly extracted his hand from Grace’s, bringing her arm to loop through his. He patted her hand where it grabbed his arm and said with a smile, “Yes, I’m sure they do! But if it’s all the same with you, we would prefer to keep the press away from the reception so we can enjoy everything.”

“Oh yes of course! Of course!” he said as he waved his hands. “I’m sure these fine gentlemen will ensure that we aren’t disturbed,” he said as he gestured to the employees who gave them assurances of maintaining their peace.

“Splendid!” Harvey said. “Well, the other guests are slowly arriving from the church. I’m sure the two of you would like to freshen up first before you make your grand entrance. Xavier, allow me to help you-”

Panic seized Xavier, worried about being left alone with the other man. Thankfully, Grace intervened. “That won’t be necessary, Harvey. I’ll be able to help him look presentable. If you don’t mind the two of us would like a moment alone.”

Harvey gave them a sly smile. “Oh yes, yes! Don’t let me interfere with the newlyweds. Just don’t take too long. We don’t want to leave your guests waiting!”

Grace gave him her best winning smile as she steered Xavier away who obediently and gratefully followed. There were a couple employees that put up a fuss of leaving the two alone in a room together, but Grace put her foot down and told them that they were now married and didn’t need any sort of chaperones and promptly shut the door in their faces. With the door finally shut, Xavier gave a sigh of relief. “Ugh that man. Always trying to get his grubby paws on you,” hissed Grace.

Xavier couldn’t help the wince at the wording but thankfully Grace wasn’t turned his way. “Y-yeah he uhh, just won’t leave me alone.”

Grace sighed as she plopped down onto a couch. “Well at least we can get some peace and quiet in here until everyone arrives.”

Xavier sat next to her. “Yeah, we can relax for a bit.” He then smirked and elbowed her. “Although no one is expecting we’re actually relaxing in here.”

Grace snorted. “I’m sure those nosy workers are anxiously waiting right outside the door with their ears pressed to it, trying to catch any stray moans.”

“Maybe the sound of me pushing you up against a wall.”

“Shouting of each other’s names.”

“Panting and screams.”

“Gross!” said Grace as she pushed him away. “Don’t put those images in my head!”

Xavier laughed. “You started it when you conjured up images of people trying to listen to us having sex!”

“Just because I’ve gotten used to kissing you in public over the years doesn’t mean I want to think about having sex with you,” she joked.

“Yeah well you best be prepared for it because now that we’re married I’m sure there will be plenty of people making pointed comments about our honeymoon and when we’ll be expecting children.”

She leaned her head back on the couch and groaned. “Ugh, don’t remind me. I just know my mother is going to be the worst of it. She’s beyond disappointed I didn’t get remarried BEFORE I turned thirty.”

Xavier laughed. “Oh, your mother isn’t that bad.”

“You only say that because she loves you!” Grace whined. “You know how many times she’s told me since we got back in touch that if I didn’t marry you, she’d marry you herself. Stepdad be damned.”

“Poor Chuck. He would have been devastated to learn about our elopement,” Xavier said with a hand over his heart.

“I’m sure your mother would have been more than happy to swoop in and pick up the pieces.”

Xavier gave her a horrified look. “Please don’t talk about my mother and your stepfather in that way. Chucks too good for her.”

Grace put up her hands in surrender. “I’m just saying, ever since the reception she hasn’t stopped giving him the eyes.”

“Gross!” he cried. “She better keep her hands off him!”

“The woman’s just lonely,” said Grace.

“I don’t care if she’s lonely! She better stay away from Chuck!”

Grace looked at him with an amused expression. “My, my! Who knew you’d be so offended on Chuck’s behalf. You and your mother have similar taste in men?” Grace seemed to suddenly realize what she was saying because her amusement slowly turned to horror. “Wait, do you think my stepfather is attractive?!”

Xavier could feel heat spread across his face. “I-I mean, it’s not like – look, Chuck’s not bad looking or anything. Th-that doesn’t mean anything more though! He’s just-!” Grace stared at him with wide eyes and his face burned hotter. “He’s a bit of a silver fox ok!”

“Silver fox?!”

“He’s got that salt-and-pepper look! I-it’s nice!” he tried to defend himself.

“I KNEW you had a thing for older men!” she cried with a smile. “I told Olivia! I mean Izzy, Chuck…” she then scrunched up her nose. “Oh please don’t tell me you like Harvey.”

“NO!!” he shouted more forcefully than he meant to, making Grace jump, before he cleared his throat. “N-no, definitely not Harvey.”

“Thank God for small mercies,” she said as the two lapsed into silence, some of their cheer dying down at the sudden outburst. After a couple of awkward seconds Grace then bumped her shoulder into his. “You know I’m definitely telling Olivia about your crush on Chuck.”

Xavier couldn’t help the small smile. “I had no doubt you wouldn’t.”

Grace then leaned her head against his shoulder. “I wish she was here.”

Xavier nodded as he leaned his head against the top of hers. “Yeah. Me too.”

“She’s the only one I really wanted here in the first place. Screw everyone else,” she said.

“Don’t say that,” he said. “I know that even despite your mom’s pestering, you’re glad she and Chuck are here.”

Grace sighed. “Yeah, I do. I could do without most of the rest of my family, but it’s been nice getting back in touch with them. I missed them.”

Xavier hummed. He knew she had and he was glad that at least she was able to reconcile her relationship with her mother after she ran off to New York years ago.

Grace tipped her head back slightly to look up at him. “You glad to have your mom here? Even a little? I know years ago you said you missed her, on some level. Now that she’s back in your life are you glad for it?”

Xavier sat for several seconds really thinking that over. He’d gone for so many years of not speaking to the woman, and he was glad for it…mostly. When he and Olivia finally got that letter from her, announcing their father’s death, it was more than just a shock. It was jarring and unpleasant and like the allusion of the life they had built for themselves finally came shattering down. Their old life had resurfaced, and it made them both feel like those same small little kids. They weren’t able to fool themselves into thinking they had no family left. Their mother was still alive, and she was asking for help in the shitty new world they had all found themselves in. And it just so happened they needed help as well.

With the discovery of Olivia’s sickness they found that one of the best tuberculosis hospitals in the nation was in Mississippi, only about a thirty-minute drive outside of Jackson and a little over an hour away from their hometown. Xavier hated the thought of being separated from Olivia but if she had someone close, someone who could check on her every week and help with the doctors then he would feel better for it. Olivia hadn’t been happy with Xavier’s proposal, but she had finally relented after Xavier had insisted that their mother agreed to help take care of her. What he didn’t tell her is that she agreed to do so in exchange for him paying for all of Olivia’s hospital bills, which he was already planning on doing, and if he sent their mother money and paid for everything now that their father was dead.

“I’m glad,” he began slowly. “For the opportunity to try and repair a relationship that was never really there to begin with.” He looked down at Grace. “But mostly for the help she’s provided with Olivia.”

Grace nodded. “I figured as such. Over the phone Olivia said she couldn’t stand the weekly visits she got from your mother. She said she was still as emotionally stunted and absent as ever.” Grace shrugged. “But I could tell that on some level she was grateful for it. I know she’s lonely too.”

Xavier nodded through the guilt that twisted in his stomach. He wished that he could be there for her more often. See her in person but in order to pay for her stay at the hospital he had to be in LA. Grace too.

After Xavier had gone off to LA and Olivia was sent back to Mississippi, Grace had a chance to fully shine on Broadway with them gone. Despite the depression, she was able to make an even greater name for herself. Harvey’s interest had never strayed far and with the new fame his interest only peaked more. Xavier knew this and made it known that she was not to be touched. Harvey only smiled and agreed. But not without some…persuading, he called it. Xavier had vomited up the bitter taste in his mouth after that night too. He’d done that more often than he would have liked.

The reuniting of Xavier and Grace in Hollywood was something that Harvey had capitalized on, old friends and performers now together once more but this time on the big screen. The public ate it up. The rumors of their romance were old, originating back in New York, and followed them to California. Harvey just pushed that narrative even more, talking about his power couple, making them the hottest thing since Jack Stewart. Xavier felt uncomfortable with the false narrative, but Grace steered into it.

She told him that they always worked best together, the three of them really, but without Olivia by their side it was only reasonable that the two of them should stick together as much as possible. Despite her insisting that she didn’t mind people thinking they were romantically involved, Xavier couldn’t help but feel guilty in keeping her from finding a man who could actually love her the way she deserved. And yet here they are now, going beyond faking a romantic entanglement and now married.

There was a knock at the door startling both. “Mr. and Mrs. Vox. We’re ready for your entrance.”

“Mrs. Vox, hhm?” Xavier turned to Grace with a raised eyebrow. “What do you think?” They hadn’t exactly discussed a name change.

Grace cocked her head to the side. “It’s better than using my first husbands’ name. Or my maiden.” She turned to Xavier. “You think Victor would be ok with me using it?”

Xavier smiled and then got to his feet, pulling Grace up with him. “I think he would have been honored.”

The two made their way to the reception hall to make their grand entrance. Dinner was served, with speeches thrown into the mix. With both of their father’s deceased, their mothers took over speeches for the two of them. Grace’s mother’s speech was far more heartfelt and meaningful, while his own mothers was short and well…not sweet but concise, lacking any real joy or emotion. But he supposed it could have been worse. The Maid of Honor speech was unfortunately given to an actress friend that Grace had made since moving to LA, a Rachel Fredricks, instead of the woman she wanted the honor to truly go to. And the Best Man speech went to Jack Stewart of all people, someone who Xavier still wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about but Harvey had insisted.

Thankfully the dances came next and Grace and Xavier took to the dance floor. The two had danced with each other on several occasions, on and off the stage, and being able to dance with her again felt like second nature. Chuck then began to dance with Grace, a tinge of sadness entering her face as Xavier handed her over. He knew she wished that it had been her brother she could have shared the moment with and not her stepfather. And then Xavier took his mother’s hand, and it was their turn.

It was one of the more awkward dances he had shared with someone, the two entirely silent as they began the dance, both clearly wishing for the song to be over.

“Congratulations,” his mother eventually said. “She is a beautiful young woman.”

“Thank you, mother,” he replied mechanically. “I’m sure we’ll be very happy.”

“That’s what everyone thinks at the beginning,” she said tonelessly.

“We’re not you and father,” he said with furrowed brows even as he stamped down on his own similar worries.

“Perhaps not,” she said. After a moment she then said, “I’ll be honest, I’m surprised you were the first.”

“To what?”

“To get married,” she said. “I would have thought it had been Victor but well…” she trailed off. “He was always a charmer. Easy to get along with. Easy to like.” ‘Unlike you’, went unsaid. “The next I would have figured had been Olivia.” She then finally looked up at Xavier, staring into his eyes. “I honestly never thought that you would have gotten married.”

Xavier didn’t know what to say to that, especially since he too didn’t think he ever would have. Despite that, he couldn’t help but feel offended. He sniffed and looked away. “Well, I’m glad to always rise above people’s expectations of me.”

“Hhm, maybe,” she said before trailing into silence. As the song was nearing the end, she then said, “Did you know that your old boss, Josef, passed away last month?”

Xavier whipped his head down towards his mother, coming to a stop in their dance. “What?”

“Cancer,” she simply said as the song came to a close. “His old…partner was rather distraught. I heard he had to be dragged away from the grave because he refused to leave for days after the funeral.” She then turned and began to walk off the dance floor as everyone else began to enter, the last of the specialty dances finishing. “So sad,” she said before she was swallowed up in the crowd.

Jack soon found Xavier and dragged him into the middle of the dance floor, pushing him to dance with his guests and not giving him a moment to process the news. Xavier pushed it to the back of his mind as he danced with guest after guest.

He was pleased to see that Miss Ruby had made it, giving him a kiss on the cheek once their dance concluded and whispering in his ear that Izzy would have loved to have been there. There were a handful of his old stage mates from Broadway along with Mr. O’Shannon who had made it. Xavier and Grace couldn’t help the surprised chuckles when they found out that O’Shannon and Ruby were each other’s dates for the wedding. Grace’s rather boisterous old friend from New Orleans was there who pulled him along into a quick and close dance, giving him a wink once they were done, telling him to give ‘ol’ Mimzy a call if this one don’t turn out, ya hear?’ Grace only laughed at his rather scandalized and shocked face after the encounter. She told him not to worry about it, that that was just how Mimzy was.

After they had cut the cake and fed each other a slice, they found their way back to their table watching the crowd continue to dance or eat cake.

“How soon is too soon for us to make our quick getaway?” asked Grace.

Xavier shrugged. “It’s our wedding. I say we can leave whenever the Hell we want.” He looked at the clock on the wall. “Visiting hours will be ending in a couple of hours too.”

Grace turned to him. “Well then. What do you say we get out of here, Mr. Vox?”

Xavier put one hand out, palm up. “I say nothing sounds better, Mrs. Vox.” Grace put her hand in his and the two began to make their discreet exit as everyone was distracted. They found an employee who helped them arrange to have their car brought to the back and sneaked them out. A sheet was thrown over the top of them to keep the paparazzi from noticing their exit, their driver telling them the coast was clear once they were down the street.

“Back to the hotel?” he asked.

“Can you take us somewhere outside of the city? Only about thirty minutes away,” Xavier asked.

“Your employer paid me quite handsomely to take you wherever you want to go today. I’d take you all the way to Louisiana if you wanted me to,” said the driver.

“Mississippi State Sanitarium will be just fine, thank you,” said Grace.

The medical staff had already been informed to expect them days prior, the director greeting them personally with no small amount of cheer and barely contained excitement at meeting the two. They were assured that they were welcome as long as they wanted, even if that meant it was past visiting hours. Their fame came in handy in that regard, at least, even if it meant there were a fair number of medical staff who were not so discreetly gawking at them. As he saw a bright flash of a camera from down the hall, Xavier wondered how much the picture of the two of them in their wedding attire while at a tuberculosis hospital would be sold for.

They were brought to a table and benches outside, sheltered by some trees, offering them some privacy. Masks were provided to both. A couple minutes later, Olivia was brought to them with the help of a nurse. He knew he had only just seen her the day prior, the two having come to Mississippi early for preparations for the wedding and to spend as much time with Olivia as possible, but every time he saw Olivia like this was jarring.

She was skin-and-bone and she was unbelievably pale with dark bags under her eyes. Her hair had lost any sort of shine to it and her cheeks were sunken in. Each time that Grace and Xavier managed to take a trip to Mississippi, she looked exponentially worse.

Once Olivia noticed them her face lit up, however. “Oh, look at you two! You two look so beautiful! Quick, take off those masks while I’m still far enough away from you. I want to see the full effect!”

Olivia and the nurse stopped several paces away as Xavier and Grace obliged. They both bashfully smiled as Olivia and the nurse cooed over them. “Ok, ok. You can put the masks back on. I need to sit down,” said Olivia as she continued her slow walk to the bench next to them. Once she sat down the nurse took her leave, saying she’d be back to check on them periodically but if they needed anything to just come find one of the staff. Olivia waved her off in exasperation, impatient to be left alone with them. “Now tell me everything.”

Xavier knew that Olivia would laugh at him once Grace told her about his reluctant admission to finding Chuck attractive. He knew she’d laugh too when Grace told her about her friend Mimzy and her flirtations. Olivia found the reveal of Mr. O’Shannon and Miss Ruby coming to the wedding together to be just as titillating in addition to their own mother apparently having the same taste in men as Xavier. All of them laughed at the rather lackluster speeches, barring Grace’s mother’s speech.

“I could have done way better at a Maid of Honor and Best Man’s speech then Rachel Fredricks and Jack Stewart of all people,” she said with an eye roll.

“Maid of Honor AND Best Man speech, huh?” said Grace with a raised eyebrow.

“Of course, like either of you could pick someone better,” Olivia scoffed.

Xavier laughed. “I mean obviously you would have been both of our first choices, but I don’t think you can do both. One of us would have had to choose and I don’t think people would have accepted you as my Best Man.”

“Pssh, don’t tell me you’d allow something such as tradition and decorum to dictate whether or not you’d choose me as your Best Man, Xavier,” scoffed Olivia.

“Well clearly I would otherwise we would have forgone any Maid of Honor and Best Man entirely AND a damn mother-son dance AND a damn wedding in the first place,” he said with a huff. “We should have just eloped and then came here straight afterwards.”

“No, no, no! You two deserved to have a nice wedding!” cried Olivia.

“He’s right though,” said Grace. “You’re the one person we actually wanted to share this day with.”

Olivia tsked but did not comment. He was sure that she was just trying to compose herself as he noticed her eyes misty as she turned away. “Besides,” he said. “It’s not like we wanted this wedding in the first place.”

Grace gasped loudly. “Xavier Vox! We haven’t been married for a full day and already you’re telling me, to my face mind you, that you don’t want to be married! And even after you promised me not to do so again today!”

Xavier rolled his eyes. “Grace, it’s just us, please stop pretending like this is anything you actually wanted.”

Grace now narrowed her eyes at him, looking truly upset instead of the mock hurt he was sure she was steering into. He gulped as she pointed a finger into his face. “Now you listen, and you listen good. This might not be a traditional sort of marriage, but I don’t care. I’ve done that once before and I don’t care to do a repeat.” Her face softened slightly from behind the mask, but she still scowled. “I love you Xavier and you love me. Maybe not in the way people would think but it’s certainly more than I ever got in my first marriage. You’re kind, and you make me laugh, and I know you’d never hurt me, and you’re my best friend,” she then looked briefly at Olivia. “Well, one of them. And I couldn’t ask for anything more in a marriage. So, stop acting like you’re robbing me of something because you’re not.” She then turned away and gave a nonchalant shrug. “Besides, stop acting like I won’t be finding other men to fuck. It’s not like you won’t too.”

Olivia then burst out laughing, shocked by the rare curse from their friend, bending over and clutching at her sides as she coughed. Xavier couldn’t help but join her despite having been thoroughly chewed out. He supposed all of that was true. Their marriage would be better than most and more honest than most. And he got to spend the rest of his life with his best friend. It was idyllic. But he still had his doubts.

“I just – don’t want you to grow to resent me because you did this because you felt you had to protect me,” he said once the laughter had died down. He should have just moved on, but this was something he couldn’t drop.

Grace then grabbed his hand and squeezed. “Xavier,” she began after several moments of no one talking. “I know I haven’t told either of you everything about my first marriage-”

“It’s ok,” Olivia quickly interjected as she wheezed after her coughing fit. “We understand. You don’t have to tell us anything you don’t want to.”

“I know,” she said. “And I appreciate both of you so much for never pushing me but I need to tell you this. Both of you,” she said as she looked between them, bracing herself. “My first husband, he hit me. A lot.” Xavier swallowed thickly, having guessed as much. “We dated for only a short while before getting married very young. I loved him dearly and never imagined he’d ever hurt me in any sort of way. But he did. And he did it often. And I told myself it was my fault, or I deserved it. So many silly things I told myself to rationalize why he’d hurt me when he claimed to love me. And I continued to tell myself those same things even after he died, and I was left alone. I mourned him,” she said with a slight wobble to her voice. “I missed him, and I loved him, and I never understood why he hurt me, but I still loved him.” She shook her head. “I think some part of me still loves him even now.” She looked up at Xavier. “I could never resent you, Xavier. If I don’t resent him after everything he did, I could never resent you.”

Xavier suddenly surged forward and wrapped his arms around Grace in a tight hug. He felt tears stinging in his eyes. “I promise I will never do something like that to you. Ever,” he said forcefully.

Grace grabbed him back, equally tightly. “Oh Xavier. Why do you think I married you?”

Xavier squeezed harder. The two remained like that for several seconds before Olivia finally interjected. "Alright, alright. Enough with the hugging. You two are just rubbing it in now that I can't come over there and hug you two too."

Her tone sounded joking but when Xavier pulled away he could see very real, barely contained, pain in her eyes. "Sorry," he mumbled. "You know we wish we could be over there next to you."

"Yeah," said Grace softly. "We love you and wish that you could be with us back in LA, just like old times. It's not the same without you there."

Olivia scoffed but in a forced nonchalant way. "You two don't wish I was there. I'd be upstaging you two constantly. Nobody would be giving you two any parts because I'd be there."

Xavier snorted, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure you'd be getting all my parts too."

"Obviously," Olivia said, prissily as she looked away.

Xavier shook his head in exasperation but then sobered. "You know we're being serious though. We do wish you were there. You should be there. We've always been better as a trifecta."

He saw Olivia's shoulders lower slightly. He knew she too was thinking of Victor. They'd always been part of a trio, the two of them. But then Victor died. And then Grace came into their life. For the first time in years, things felt...right. And now here Olivia was separated from them, across half the country. And Xavier found himself just as terrified for her as he had been for Victor.

"Yeah, the Vox trio. That'd be nice, wouldn't it?" asked Grace.

Olivia turned towards them at that. "You're changing your name to Vox?"

Grace shrugged. "I don't have any real attachment to my former husbands name. Nor my maiden name. I don't know, Vox has a nice ring to it, after all." She swallowed thickly and hesitantly continued. "You'd be...ok with that, right?"

"Are you kidding?" cried out Oliva, leaning eagerly forward in her seat. "That's fantastic! Oh boy, Victor would be thrilled!"

Grace seemed to relax at that, relieved. "That's what I said," said Xavier, bumping Grace's shoulder.

She smiled as her cheeks turned red, obscured mostly by her mask. She looked down bashfully to hide the small amount of moisture he could see gathering there. "Well I'm glad," she said almost nervously as she fidgeted with her giant dress before suddenly clearing her throat and then laughing. "Ugh, this thing is so big and quite the hassle. I haven't peed once since putting this on. And after all that champagne I feel like I'm floating away! Is there uhm, a bathroom somewhere I can use?"

Olivia waved her off and told her to speak with the nurse who had helped her out. Grace made her exit, leaving the siblings alone who watched her go. "You think she's alright?" questioned Xavier with concern.

"It's the woman's wedding day. She's allowed to be overwhelmed by emotions at some point. I just think the Vox comment got to her. In a good way!" Olivia rushed to add.

Xavier frowned as he still stared after where he saw her disappear to. "You sure it's nothing more?"

"Xavier Vox!" yelled Olivia, startling him and drawing his attention. "If I could I'd come over there and smack you upside the head I would! Stop harping on the marriage being a mistake! If she didn't want to marry you, she wouldn't have asked you to. She's always been our family. You two have just now made it official." She huffed and crossed her arms. "If you keep bringing it up you're only going to make her think it's actually a mistake because you think it's one. Stop it."

"You're right! You're right! Sorry. I just really don't want her to grow to resent me," he said as he fidgeted with his hands.

Olivia relaxed slightly. "I know," she said softly. "But trust her when she says she won't grow to resent you. She loves you, Xavier. Maybe not in that way, but does it really matter? Most people hate each other in their marriage. I mean just look at our parents. They hated each other! Can't really blame either of them but still."

Xavier chuckled. "Yeah." He was then reminded of his dance with their mother and how he had found himself in the position of defending his happiness with Grace while his mother was the one who was doubtful. He hated that she hit a little too close to home about his own insecurities about the marriage. And then there was her other comments.

"What's with that look?" asked Olivia. "I can practically hear you overthinking from over there. I'm telling you, you and Grace are perfect for each other in your own, non-traditional way-"

"No, it's not that," he said as he shook his head. "It's just...mother."

Olivia groaned. "What about her now? What, was her speech just her standing in front of everyone and not saying or doing anything except staring judgmentally at everyone?"

"No, no, nothing like that. It's just...our dance. She said some things..." he said as he trailed off. Olivia waited patiently for him to continue. "Did you hear that Josef had passed away recently?"

Olivia sighed. "Yeah," she said softly. "She told me during her last visit. She dropped the news out of the blue too. We were talking about your wedding when all of a sudden she brought it up." Olivia leaned forward on her bench as if to try and get as close to him as possible. "I'm sorry, Xavier. I wanted to tell you but thought it would be best to wait until after the wedding."

"It's alright," he said with a weak smile that he knew was concealed behind his mask. "It's just - she told you while you two were talking about the wedding?"

Olivia shrugged. "I mean it's not like it was really much of a conversation. No conversation with her is ever really one in the first place. I know that you're just trying to make sure I'm not lonely here by making her visit me once a week but honestly, I'd be less lonely if she DIDN'T come here. You'd think that dads death would make her more talkative but hey, I guess years of conditioning is hard to break."

Xavier frowned. "She told me about Josef right after she told me how surprising it was that I got married at all. She even mentioned David and how distraught he was over Josef." Xavier swallowed. "You don't think - you don't think she ever, uhm, suspected things about me? Do you?"

Olivia gave him a sympathetic look. "Even if she did, don't worry about it. You're married now. That's part of the reason you two got married was to put to rest any suspicions people had."

"Yes, but you knew before I even knew. Maybe she did. Maybe father too." The man did always hate Xavier so. And he was beyond upset when Xavier started working for Josef and David. It wouldn't be outside the realm of possibilities that he at least suspected.

"And so what if they did," said Olivia. "Who cares what either of them think? I don't. And you shouldn't either," she said forcefully.

He knew she was right. Olivia was always far more critical about their parents and their opinions. Despite everything, Xavier could never really shake that desire to have their approval. He then thought of Victor.

"What about Victor?" he asked in a small voice. "Did he know?"

He looked up at Olivia who was staring back at him with kind eyes. She sighed as she looked down at her lap. "You were so young when he died. I don't think it probably ever crossed his mind. And if it did, he never shared those thoughts with me."

Xavier picked at a loose splinter on the bench he was sitting on, worrying it between his nails. "What do you think he'd think about me? If he knew?" The splinter snapped off the bench and his fingers found a new one to peel away at.

They lapsed into silence that drug on and on. He didn't like the lack of a response and more and more splinters were falling to the ground. Finally, Olivia sighed. "I...honestly don't know. It was so long ago when he died. Sometimes I do wonder because yeah, most people are idiots and are against that sort of thing." Xavier hunched his shoulders up. "But he was our brother. And he loved us more than anything. I'd like to think he would love you no matter what."

Xavier snorted humorlessly. "Most people would think that would be a line."

"Well most people are stupid. Weren't you listening?" she said dryly, earning another more genuine snort from Xavier. "And even if he had an issue with you being attracted to men then I'd just bop him on the nose and set him straight. He'd change his mind after that."

Xavier finally laughed. "My hero."

"Always. You're my baby brother. Anybody who gives you grief has to deal with me."

Xavier thought of Harvey and fidgeted in his seat. "Yeah..." he said, avoiding her eyes. He flinched as he felt a splinter burrow its way deep underneath his skin. He looked at it and noted the small drop of blood.

"Xavier." He looked up. Olivia was giving him a mildly concerned and suspicious look. "No one's giving you grief, are they?"

He nearly burst into maniacal laughter then. Grief is not how he'd put it. "Of course not."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "You're not lying to me are you? Because I swear, if anyone is I'll do more than just bop them on the nose. Tuberculosis be damned."

He actually did smile at that. He had no doubt she'd at least try. But tuberculosis aside, Harvey was one of the most powerful men in Hollywood. There wasn't a whole lot that Olivia could do. And if she ever found out the reason why he was in the position he was in, he knew she'd be consumed with guilt.

"It's not Harvey Sellers, is it?"

Xavier startled. "What?"

The line between her eyebrows deepened. "Grace has talked to me about him. Hates the man. Said he's practically obsessed with you. Does he suspect anything? That why he pushed you and Grace to be together?"

Oh he more than just suspected. That maniacal laughter was getting harder to keep from bursting out of him. Olivia and Grace had been talking about him and Harvey behind his back? He should have known. Grace had made her displeasure about the man known and if she worried about Xavier then of course she'd talk to Olivia about it. But at the very least it seemed that their suspicions were only that he knew about Xavier's sexuality. He needed to make sure it stayed there.

"He...has his suspicions. But it's ok," he went to reassure when he saw Olivia stiffen. "It's not like I'd be the first celebrity to have a lavender marriage. He's dealt with this before." Xavier smiled and hoped that it reached his eyes behind the mask. "Now that Grace and I are married it'll help. There won't be any rumors anymore."

Olivia didn't look fully convinced, that line still lingering between her brows. "Stop worrying, Olivia." He said, forcing his voice to take on an unconcerned tone. He thought he did pretty good, even against the person who knew him best. "I'm a big boy now. I don't always need my sister to fight my battles for me." Let me do it for you for once, he thought.

Eventually Olivia relented and huffed. "Fine. I trust you. But if he gives you anymore problems you let me know, got it?" She said as she pointed an accusing finger at him.

He remembered when they were children and how when they would lie they'd cross their fingers behind their backs. Over the years, he'd become a much better liar as it became necessary for him to lie on the daily in order to protect himself. Now he wasn't just protecting himself. Xavier simply smiled and said with a laugh. "Wouldn't dream of doing otherwise."
_____________________________________________________________________
Vox stared vacantly out his office window as he absentmindedly listened to Adam blabber on. He’d delivered more souls to Adam as promised, pleasing the former angel immensely. Vox barely heard the other as he absentmindedly watched a flock of demonic birds fly past. Vox suddenly felt incredibly envious of the creatures and their ability to fly as high or as far as they desired. He wished he could fly away too. Far, far away. He was suddenly reminded of his time in the war and what it felt like to fly.

‘Ace, we gotta jump!’ Wind had whipped around his face as they jumped from their plane. For a couple seconds it felt like flying before he pulled his parachute. Some of his friends continued to fly though, as their parachutes failed after bullets were punched through them. He wondered how things would have been different if he was the one who continued to fly instead of one of his friends.

“Hey!” Vox jumped as he was startled out of the memory. His head whipped around to look at Adam who was sitting on the other side of his desk. One hand was flat on Vox’s desk from where Adam slammed it down. “You listening to me?”

With great effort, Vox plastered on his best placating smile. It ached to even try. “Of course, Adam. I wouldn’t dream of ignoring you.”

Adam scowled at him and leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, sure whatever you say, Sparky. You’ve been real spacy for like a week now. What gives?”

It had been a little over a week now since the Overlord meeting. Since his night with Val. Since Alastor.

Vox felt unbelievably numb after Alastor ran off, dissolving into shadows as Vox shot lightening at him. He had seen the look on the other’s face. He was in pain, unbelievable pain. Vox had no doubt that he had struck Alastor right where his wound was at, worsening it to an unknown degree. Surely the other wouldn’t be able to survive such a hit. There was no chance with the state he was already in. Vox thought of the untested antidote then and the fact that it dissolved into Alastor’s shadows with him.

Had it worked? Was Alastor still alive? Or was he dead for good? He didn’t know and he couldn’t bring himself to even check. He thought of Charlie and the fact that if Alastor was dead, she’d surely let Vox know. But then again, Alastor wasn’t one for asking for help. For all Vox knew, Alastor ran off to who knew where to die in peace, alone.

The thought didn’t make Vox feel how he thought it would. Once upon a time he knew he would have felt unbelievably sad at the thought, devastated more like it. Now though? He just felt…numb. Adam said he’d been spacy. Yes, he imagined he had been.

“Don’t tell me, you’re still pouting after Valentino beat the shit out of you last week?” asked Adam with a smirk.

That earned more of a reaction from Vox, flinching at the reminder. He shot weary eyes at Adam who laughed. “Yeah, I know about that. What with the tower flickering on-and-off for hours. I bet he was reallllll pissed when you used that hypnotism shit on me to leave that meeting. Bitch,” he said with a glare. “Real uncool, by the way. But I guess your little boyfriend made that pretty clear, huh? You hid in your room the entire next day, nursing your wounds.” Adam barked out a laugh.

Vox swallowed thickly, remembering the feel of Valentino between his legs and the chain at his neck. He clasped his hands together underneath his desk, attempting to stop the slight trembles that started.

Adam didn’t know, he told himself. Adam just thought that Valentino beat the shit out of him, nothing else. He knows Valentino owns his soul, but he doesn’t know what he did. He doesn’t.

Vox scowled at Adam as he continued to laugh. “You done?”

“Oh, come on, learn to laugh a little,” said Adam. “Besides, you’re the one who pissed off the dude who literally owns your soul. Seems like a pretty stupid move if you ask me.”

“Well, I didn’t ask you, now did I?” he barked out.

“Relax,” drawled Adam who leaned back and kicked his feet up onto Vox’s desk. “You won’t be owned by him much longer, remember? Just so long as you keep giving me more souls then when I’m strong enough I’ll break your chain, easy peasy.”

Vox glared at the feet on his desk but stayed silent. Because Adam was right, as long as he kept up with giving Adam more souls than there was a chance, however small, that he would eventually be off Valentino’s chain. Then he’d finally be free. His fingers twitched to touch the bullet in his pocket.

“Besides, you shouldn’t be so embarrassed about having your soul owned,” said Adam shooting him a wide grin. “Plenty of people down here have their souls owned. A surprisingly large number too. Makes it kind of hard to find people to take their soul, honestly. I walk down the street and it’s like someone threw up a bunch of different colored strings of yarn everywhere. The store clerk. Sold her soul. The mailman. Sold his soul. The sex worker. Sold his soul. All down on their luck losers who sold their souls.” Vox frowned and Adam laughed. “But what was REALLY surprising was finding out that those in positions of power weren’t exempt from having their souls owned. And not just you!”

Vox blinked, caught off guard. “I mean, I knew when I walked through those doors at that meeting that there would be so many bursts of lights from being around so many Overlords with countless souls to their name. But when I saw you weren’t the only one with a chain at your neck, HA! Now THAT was a shock! I mean, I already knew at least one other did but still!” Adam slapped his hands on his thighs as he dropped his feet back to the floor. He pushed himself up and shot Vox a smile as he sat reeling from the news. “Welp. I should be off-”

He turned to walk away but Vox burst into a bolt of lightening, shooting in front of Adam and stopping him from leaving. “Wait!” He shouted. “Are you saying another Overlord, no Overlords, sold their soul??”

Adam smiled. “Knew that would get your attention! Not so spacy now!”

Vox frowned. “You’re just messing with me?” he said in irritation.

“Not JUST messing with you. That’s just an added bonus.”

Vox huffed and began to walk away back to his desk, annoyed at the lies Adam was spinning. But then Adam grabbed his arm, stopping him. “Hey now, I didn’t say I was lying though.”

Vox scoffed and pulled his arm from his grip. “Yeah right. Multiple other Overlords having their souls owned. Who?”

Adam waggled his finger in Vox’s face. “Ah ah ah! Now why would I just offer that information up for free?”

Vox rolled his eyes. “Now I know you’re lying. I’m already working to get you more souls and working with Charlie to get you sent back to Heaven. What more could you possibly want from me? Money? You’re already staying in the tower, rent free, and if you go back to Heaven something tells me our currency here would be no good up above.”

“Now that’s a great question!” said Adam with cheer. He leaned close to Vox and threw an arm over his shoulder, dragging Vox down and to the shorter demon’s level. “You know, your guys third is one Hell of a babe and-”

“No.” Vox threw Adam’s arm off of him.

“Oh, come on! The little bitch hardly even looks at me-”

Vox grabbed ahold of Adam’s shirt and lifted him onto the tips of his toes. “I said NO!” Sparks shot between his antennas and his left eye swirled in anger, Adam entranced by the thing. “And don’t EVER call her a bitch again!”

Adam blinked rapidly to clear himself of the hypnotism and scowled at Vox. He raised his hands placatingly and said. “Ok, ok. Geez! You’d think you’d be more willing to wingman for the man who is literally your only chance at freedom but whatever. Guess not.”

“We have a deal already that I will not modify!” Vox growled out. “And even if I was willing to, under no circumstances would I ever let you so much as TOUCH Velvette!”

Adam smirked. “Ahh, I see. Want her all to yourself? Well, I can’t blame you. She’s a total upgrade from your current fuckbuddy. I mean, I don’t understand why you’d want to be with some dude when you have a totally hot chick right there.”

Don’t kill him, don’t kill him, don’t kill him, Vox chanted inside his head. He pushed Adam back, releasing his hold on him. Adam stumbled back a couple of steps, cursing. “Get out of my office. I already gave you your souls for today. Our business is done. I don’t want to hear your stupid made up bullshit in the hopes of getting with Velvette.”

Adam adjusted his shirt, straightening out the wrinkles in indignation. “Uh, not made up but it’s cool, you don’t want to know. Your loss!” He turned to finally leave. He waved over his shoulder as he said, “But if you change your mind you know where to find me!”

Vox dropped down to his chair with a sigh. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, feeling a headache coming on. He was tired, oh so very tired, and couldn’t deal with Adam’s bullshit anymore. Another Overlord or Overlords with a chain at their neck. Yeah right. He was the only idiot in that room stupid enough to sell his soul. Adam was just trying to rile him up.

He then thought of Adam’s reaction when he showed up at the meeting. He laughed like some maniac, pissing off the Queen. It was odd to say the least. Was there someone else there who had sold their soul? Multiple someone’s?

Vox opened his eyes and turned his chair, staring out the window once more. The flock of birds were still flying around outside.

Suddenly he realized he didn’t care. If there was some other poor shmuck who sold their soul, then that’s their problem. He didn’t give a rat’s ass. All he cared about now was getting Adam as many souls as he possibly could so he could snip the thread tying Vox to Valentino.

A buzz sounded from his pocket. Vox pulled his phone out and saw he had a text from Valentino. His heart sank. He hadn’t seen him once since the night after the Overlord meeting.

Val:
I miss you, baby. My beds so cold when you’re not there.

Doubtful, he thought. He was sure Val had plenty of whores to keep him warm at night. Another ding from his phone.

Val:
I’m sorry about being too rough with you. You know I don’t mean to. You just make me so angry sometimes. Let me make it up to you tonight. Say 9?

The numbness was returning. He looked back out the window and saw a couple of the birds fighting. The smallest one was being attacked by two bigger ones. The smaller bird suddenly began to fall through the sky, its wings not flapping. Lucky bastard.

Vox looked down at his phone and typed the only response he knew he could give.

Vox:
That sounds lovely, babe. I’ll see you then.
____________________________________________________________________
Xavier kept quiet as he lay half naked on a couch. He was on his side staring straight ahead at a garish painting of a deer running through a wolf with its antlers, blood seeping out from the gaping wound. More wolves stood behind the wounded wolf, hunched down in defensive stances. Behind the deer was a little bunny rabbit. How odd, he thought. Was the deer protecting the rabbit? Or was the rabbit simply an innocent bystander witness to such a brutal and unorthodox display? Either way, the painter had managed to expertly paint a look of fear on the small creatures’ face. Was it afraid of the wolves? Or was it afraid of the deer, a prey animal turned predator? Xavier looked at the wounded wolf’s face. It was snarling and vicious, twisted in pain and bloodlust. The other wolves were more subdued but no less snarling and wild. The deer looked serene. Had it done such a thing before? Surely it had to have to appear so unbothered. Xavier looked back at the bunny. The deer was protecting it, he decided. How nice. Two prey animals banding together against the brutal wolf. Motion out of the corner of his eye drew his attention back to his own personal wolf.

Xavier tried to ignore the other man as he dressed himself. The painting was a much better image to focus on. He’d barely noticed it before on the handful of times he had come to the other man’s house, usually retreating to the bedroom. The other apparently couldn’t wait that long this time. Absentmindedly, Xavier twirled the wedding band on his left ring finger as he decided he liked the painting.

His view of the painting was disturbed when the other man stepped before him. Xavier tilted his head slightly to look up at the other. Harvey smiled down at him and then brushed a couple strands of Xavier’s hair that had fallen into his eyes back, the motion an imitation of one a lover would make. Xavier couldn’t prevent the shiver that wracked down his spine.

“Your foreheads sweaty,” Harvey said. “I’d tell you to clean yourself up and use my shower, but it would be pointless. You’d just have to shower again later.” He chuckled. He dropped a blanket onto Xavier’s waist. “Here, wrap yourself up in this at least. I don’t want any fluids getting on my couch. It’s expensive.”

Xavier moved to obey despite the urge to disobey and purposefully ruin the couch. But in the end, his desire to hide his naked lower half from Harvey won out. Even if it was only temporary.

He winched at the discomfort he felt between his legs as he moved, the slight stab of pain and the uncomfortable tackiness. Usually, Harvey didn’t engage in such activities with him, preferring to have Xavier on his knees and using his mouth. But every once in a while, Harvey said he liked to indulge. And seeing as Grace was out of town for a couple of months for a new film, there was no one expecting him home.

There was a small part of Xavier that wondered if Harvey orchestrated her getting the role in order to get her away from Xavier for an extended period of time. He’d grown lonely, he said, ever since the wedding. Never mind that he was one of the ones that pushed for their relationship in the first place. But Xavier chastised himself. Grace deserved the role and recognition. If Grace and Xavier were separated for a couple of months, well that was just a coincidence and a golden opportunity that presented itself to Harvey that he would be remiss to not take advantage of. And oh, how he had been taking advantage of it since the day she left.

Three more weeks, he reminded himself. She would be home in three more weeks. He distantly wondered how he had managed to deal with Harvey alone for that year before Grace moved to LA. But then again, Harvey’s interest in him was not as robust back then. There was that first initial night in New York and only two other similar encounters with him at the time. Despite Harvey pushing for Xavier and Grace’s relationship, gotta keep up appearances he had said, it was as if Grace’s arrival had sparked something inside Harvey. Possessiveness perhaps?

Xavier gratefully took the glass of scotch that was offered to him, taking a generous gulp, draining half of it in one go. Harvey chuckled as he refilled Xavier’s glass without needing to be asked, sitting down at the opposite end of the couch where Xavier’s legs still lay. Harvey shifted over, lifting Xavier’s feet and placing them in his lap. Xavier had to fight from pulling his legs to his chest and curling up into a fetal position. Xavier instead took another sip of the liquor, his wedding band clinking against the glass.

Come with me to Washington, Grace had said. It’ll be a fun adventure and keep Harvey’s grubby paws away from you, she said. He couldn’t ignore the displeased expression she wore as she talked about Harvey, suspicion furrowing her eyebrows. He’d laughed her off, saying he could handle Harvey just fine. The lines between her brows only seemed to deepen. He didn’t know if his laugh was just a touch too manic or if he was unable to banish the fear that flashed across his face in time. In the end, he wished that he had taken her up on the offer. It’s not like he had any current projects he was working on. But Harvey was sure to have been highly displeased if he left. He swallowed another generous sip as he felt Harvey rubbing the soles of his feet.

“Harvey?” came the questioning shout of a man from near the front door causing Xavier to jump. He sat up quickly, spilling a couple drops of scotch onto his lap and over his hand. He turned wide eyes towards Harvey who shushed him.

“Relax, it’s just Jack,” he said. And then turned his head to the opening of the large living room and shouted back, “In here!”

Despite knowing who it was, his heart pounded against his chest in time with the footsteps drawing nearer. Xavier pulled the blanket closer around himself and his still naked lower half. This wouldn’t be the first time that Jack had seen him in a state of undress with Harvey. And it wasn’t like Xavier hadn’t seen Jack in a compromising position or two with Harvey as well. Still, his face heated up in shame at having another be privy to the things he got up to with Harvey.

Jack entered the room and Harvey beamed at the other actor. “Jack! You made it! I’m glad! I hope you don’t mind but Xavier and I have already started with the fun.”

Jack made eye contact with Xavier briefly as he smiled before he looked back at Harvey. Either Jack was truly a much better actor than Xavier, never once seeming to be uncomfortable in the older producer’s presence, or his distaste of the man didn’t run as deep as Xavier’s.

Jack made his way to the liquor cabinet and grabbed himself an empty glass to bring to Harvey who poured him a glass as well. “Nah, I don’t mind. I’ll have my own fun, I’m sure.” And then winked at Harvey. The old man was thrilled at the display, laughing and calling Jack an old cad. It made Xavier’s skin crawl but at least the older man’s attention wasn’t entirely on Xavier. Jack sat across from them with the painting above his head.

“You bet your ass you’ll be having your own fun,” Harvey said. “We’ve never had all three of us here together. It’ll be a great new adventure for all of us.”

Xavier frowned as he looked from Harvey to Jack. Was he expected to not only have sex with Harvey but Jack as well? Together?

"I'm sure it will be," said Jack. Xavier looked at him and saw Jack staring straight at him. Xavier tried to keep from fidgeting but failed, pulling the blanket tighter around his waist. Jack pulled out a cigarette and lit it, pulling a long drag from it before leaning forward and reaching over the small table between them to give it to Xavier. He took the cigarette gratefully and began to smoke too in the hopes of calming his already wracked nerves. All the while, Jack continued watching him.

"Did you bring it?" asked Harvey, drawing Jack's attention. "I've been craving some all day. You better have brought some."

"Relax. Of course I brought some." Jack reached inside his jacket pocket, pulling out a small vial with a white powder inside. "Would I disappoint you?" he said with a smile.

Harvey laughed. "Not yet, you haven't!" Harvey leaned forward to grab at the vial greedily which Jack passed over. "Oh I still remember when this stuff was made illegal in 1914. Ridiculous, if you ask me. So many people ran on this stuff. Really effected the entire nations work force. But we still find work arounds, am I right?"

Xavier watched as Harvey dumped a small portion of the white powder onto the back of his hand before snorting it. Harvey shivered and brushed at his nose to make sure it was all gone. Suddenly Xavier knew what the powder was. He took a generous sip from his drink and multiple drags from the cigarette.

"You ever had cocaine, Xavier?" He turned to look at Jack who was back to staring at him. He shook his head. Jack smiled and leaned forward again, resting his elbows on his knees. "Would you like to try some?"

He didn't know how to react. Should he say yes? Was he expected to?

"You should try it," said Harvey. He extended his hand towards Xavier with the vial. Xavier stared at the vial, unsure of what to do.

"It feels really good," said Jack. "Like, really good. It makes you feel euphoric."

Xavier took another sip of his drink and then suddenly realized he was out of alcohol. The cigarette wasn't helping much either.

"Here. Let me help." And suddenly Jack was out of his seat and by Xavier's side, pouring him another drink. He took the cigarette from him, smoking from it as well before passing it to Harvey and trading him for the vial. Jack then knelt down so he was right before Xavier, their faces on closer level. Jack then poured some powder onto the back of his own hand and snorted it up as well. Jack pinched at his nostrils as he continued to sniff. "See. That's all you do. Now you try."

Jack poured more of the powder onto the back of his hand and brought it close to Xavier's face. He stared at it for several seconds, anxiety keeping him from moving. "It's ok," Jack then said, his voice much softer and almost a whisper. "Just try it the one time. It does wonders at taking the edge off."

Xavier looked into Jack's eyes and for a moment he thought he saw some sort of understanding. Xavier was suddenly hyper aware of his feet that were in Harvey's lap and the lack of any clothes he had on from the waist down. Without any further hesitation, Xavier propped himself up on one elbow and leaned forward, bring his nose to the back of Jack's hand.

When he breathed in and was assaulted by the foreign substance entering him he felt tears spring to his eyes. He rapidly blinked as he continued breathing in over and over to force everything out of his nostrils. He pinched at his nose to help get rid of the stinging.

Harvey laughed. "Atta boy! Give him some more."

"In a little bit," said Jack. "Let him get used to this little bit first."

Xavier plopped back onto the couch and stared up at the ceiling, waiting to feel different. "Give it a couple of minutes and you'll be feeling it," said Jack. "You'll be feeling great in a moment."

Harvey laughed again as he squeezed at Xavier's feet. "Oh yes he will be."

Xavier swallowed and forced himself to stay still. Then he felt a hand brush against his cheek. It was far softer than Harvey's were. The hand gently pushed his face to the side to look back at Jack. Jack rubbed his thumb against Xavier's cheek as his eyes searched all over his face. His hand glided down his face to then come to rest on the side of his neck. He felt Jack brush against a hickey that was at the juncture of his shoulder and neck. "Did I ever tell you how beautiful you were?" he said in a whisper as they locked eyes. "Those baby blue eyes."

Xavier could feel his heart rate increasing slightly along with his breathing. Was it because of the drug? Or anticipation? Maybe both. Harvey's hands began rubbing up his calves and Xavier shivered. "Focus on me," Jack whispered, almost as if he knew. Because of course he did.

Jack's hand began slowly trailing over his chest and down his button-up shirt and underneath the blanket. Xavier gave out a small gasp as he felt Jack's hand connect with the bare skin of his hip. He chose to pay attention to the feel of his hand there and the dark pools of brown that were Jack's own eyes. He remembered seeing him for that first time back in New York. His dazzling smile and blonde hair. Xavier would be lying if he said he didn't find Jack attractive as well.

The hand brushed lightly against his hip and waist, down onto his the side of his thigh, then in-between his thighs and back up the inside of them. Xavier found himself inching them apart slightly to make room for Jack's hand. He let out a louder gasp as he felt Jack grab onto his cock. Jack then leaned forward and their lips connected.

It was like a damn had been released because Xavier then hungrily opened his mouth and licked into Jack's mouth. He threw his arms around Jack's neck and held on for dear life. Jack's hand began to move and their kiss broke as Xavier moaned. Jack buried his face into Xavier's shoulder who did the same. Xavier had a tight grip on the back of Jack's jacket and in his hair as he pushed his forehead up against Jack's neck. "That's it," whispered Jack so softly that he didn't think Harvey could even hear. "I've got you. I've got you. Just focus on me."

And so he did, even as he felt the blanket get pulled down and away, exposing himself to the cold air and revealing the ministrations of Jack's hand. He focused on Jack even as he felt hands down by his ankles, pull his legs wider as he tried to curl his legs up to keep his cock from view. He focused on Jack as he felt this tingling buzz travel over his body, making everything feel more intense. And he focused on Jack even as he heard the sound of a zipper being pulled down and Harvey's own breathy gasps.

Xavier laid there gasping as he stared up at the ceiling after his orgasm was wrenched from him. His skin was tingling and he shivered as his sweat and cum chilled on his body. He absentmindedly listened to Harvey compliment him and Jack and the performance they put on, but now he wanted to be an active participant. Jack ran a soothing hand down Xavier's entire body as he made his way over to Harvey. Xavier finally turned his head to look down the length of himself and saw Jack climb into Harvey's lap, straddling the older man.

Xavier didn't know how to feel as he saw Jack give a wicked smile to Harvey before capturing his lips in a kiss. Jack had told him all those years back that there were things people had to do that they didn't particularly like in order to get what they want. The two moaned into each other's mouths. Was this one of those things that Jack didn't like? Truly? Maybe Jack really was a better actor than him.

Jack began moving his hips against Harvey causing the older man to groan and throw his head back. Jack leaned down and began kissing Harvey's neck. His hips began to pick up speed and then he turned his head to look directly at Xavier. It felt like he was in a trance as he watched Jack continue to expertly wrench moan after moan from Harvey even as he locked eyes with Xavier. In the end, even if he didn't know what Jack's feelings were on the matter, Xavier couldn't help but feel grateful that at least Harvey wasn't focused on him. At least for the time being.

Several hours later Xavier climbed from the large bed that was upstairs. The two other men lay passed out after their several hours long excursion into this new "adventure". He walked to the window, naked, and saw that the sky was just beginning to lighten as morning encroached upon them. Xavier turned around and eyeballed a vial of cocaine sitting on one of the bedside tables. Jack had brought multiple and this was the last that contained any of the illegal substance. Xavier made his way over to it and sprinkled out some of the powder onto the table which he promptly snorted. He whipped up the lingering powder with his finger and rubbed it onto his gums, just as Jack had shown him earlier. He shivered and got back to his feet, grabbing a blanket that had been discarded to the floor and wrapped it around his shoulders.

Xavier made his way out of the room and descended the stairs in the dark on unsteady feet. Alcohol still coursed through his body, making the world spin. He entered the same room where his night had began and fell back onto the couch in a heap. He let his head fall back onto the back of the couch as he slumped down in his seat and stared back at that same painting. Even in the dark, the blood that was falling from the wolf seemed vibrant. He stared at the deer.

Jack had come to his aid tonight, making the terrible night feel somewhat more bearable. He shifted and felt a pang of discomfort from between his legs. He winched as he felt the dried cum inside him. He remembered Jack carding his fingers soothingly through his hair and kissing his neck so sweetly as Harvey grunted behind Xavier. He swallowed down the taste of bile at the back of his throat. Xavier stared at the other cowering wolves.

The lingering moonlight beamed through the window, shinning off the gold wedding band that was just below his chin where he held both sides of the blanket with his left hand. He missed his family. He missed Grace. He missed Olivia. A small sniffle escaped him accompanied by a hiccupping gasp.

Grace was in Washington, in the middle of some woods, away from any phone for the next week. But it would be sunlight by now in Mississippi. With the cocaine buzzing through his veins he felt the need to speak with his sister.

He hiccupped again and leaned over to the table by the couch. A phone sat there and he dialed the number to the sanitarium. A nurse answered and he asked to speak with Olivia. She put him on hold and his leg began jumping up and down. His skin started feeling too tight and his heart was beating fast, too fast. He rubbed at his chest as his breathing began to pick up without his permission. Come on, he repeated in his head. He knew Olivia would come to the phone but for some reason his mind was starting to spiral and he worried she wouldn't. He stared at the wolves some more and the snarling teeth were too much.

Finally, "Xavier?" came the sleepy reply over the phone, accompanied by a hacking cough.

He gasped out in relief. "Olivia, oh Oli-i-i-ivia." And the crying suddenly started.

"Xavier? Xavier?? What's wrong? Are you and Grace ok?" She sounded so much more alert now. Any lingering tiredness evaporated.

"I'm s-s-s-sorry. I-I'm ssorry." He could barely get the words out in-between gasping breaths. Fuck. His skin was crawling. He hadn't had a panic attack in years. Oh God he felt like he couldn't breathe.

"Hey, hey. You're ok. Just breathe. Breathe with me." Olivia started taking exaggerated deep breaths that he could hear over the phone, counting out loud. Xavier tried to match her breathing but without her there, holding his hand and touching him he couldn't ground himself. "In, one, two, three four. Out, one, two, three four. Just keep breathing. You got this."

"I d-d-don't. I'mmm sorry. I c-c-c-can't do this. I can't keeeeeep doing this." The blanket fell around his waist as he clutched at his throat, clawing at it as if that would help get air in.

"Yes you can. Just breathe. In, one, two, three, four." Xavier listened to her calm and patient voice as he cried and tried to get air into his lungs. It felt like ages before his exhausted body finally cooperated and allowed himself to breathe properly. But even then, the tears persisted.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he whispered into the phone over and over. She shushed him and told him it was alright but it wasn't. He couldn't keep doing this.

"Xavier, tell me what happened," she finally said. "Are you ok? Is Grace ok?"

He rubbed at his nose and the snot that was running. "G-grace is in Wwwwashington. She's in the woods. S-s-she's fine."

"But you're not," she said. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head even as he knew she couldn't see him. "I-I-I'm sorry. I'm nnnot a very goooood brother."

"Hush now. Don't say such stupid things," she gently reprimanded. She coughed again. "You're the best brother I could ever ask for. And I had two." His heart ached at hearing her say such a thing. Victor would be better. He wouldn't be so weak.

He ran the back of his hand across his cheeks to wipe away the streaming tears. "I can't," he whispered. "Harvey's tooooo much."

There was silence. Then Olivia said darkly, "What did he do?"

He shook his head again and gave a hiccupping breathe in, his tears streaming anew. "I'mmmmm soooorrry." He swallowed through a giant lump in his throat that stung at his nose and eyes.

"Shhhh, shhhh," Olivia hushed, her tone of voice returning to the same soothing sound from before. "You're ok. You're ok. Breathe."

"IIIIII can't not," he gasped in. "I neeeddd the money for your treatment. I need tooooo-"

"Hush now," she said. "Don't you worry about anything like that. You've done more than enough. Talk to me, Xavier."

He leaned forward and wrapped his free hand around himself, rocking gently. "I can't. I can't." He felt like such a failure. He couldn't even talk to his own sister even as he was falling apart. What a useless disgusting idiot. One of the bottles of liquor they had been consuming earlier sat on the table before him, bronze liquid still at the bottom. He quickly chugged the rest and then wiped furiously at his eyeballs.

"Shhh, it's ok, Xavier. I'm here, I'm here." But she wasn't. She was halfway across the country and not here like he wanted her to be. "Listen," she eventually said after a long pause. She coughed. "You should come here. To Mississippi. I want to see you and we can talk then. How does that sound?"

Xavier pulled his blanket up around his shoulders and swallowed around the lump again. His fingers itched to hold onto her hands again despite not having been able to do so for quite some time. He missed being able to do so. He missed her. He finally nodded. "I'd like that."

"Good," she said with a sigh of relief. "You find the first flight you can to me and we'll talk then."

"I-it's too expensive," he protested.

"Never you mind that. I just want to see you." She coughed for several seconds. "Please, Xavier. I just want to see you."

There was something in her voice, something sad, that made his heart clench. Why was he protesting? Didn't just moments ago he wished more than anything to be there with her? To hold her hand? He was so tired too, any fight he had left in him seemed to dissipate. "Ok," he said without realizing. "Ok."

She sighed, relieved. "Good." He could hear her smile then. "I love you, Xavier. Remember that. And we'll see each other soon and talk then." Dread filled him. Talk? How could he talk to her about this? Was he really so pathetic and selfish? He stared at the bunny and thought maybe he was.
_______________________________________________________________________
Vox sat on his bed using a towel to dry his still damp upper body. He always felt like he needed to take a shower after spending time with Valentino. At least there was no significant aches he could feel. Comparatively speaking, he was downright loving and gentle with him tonight. He always was the first time after he had been particularly rough. In the early days it made his heart flutter. Back then he was still able to fool himself into thinking that Val loved him. But had he ever really?

He pulled on a pair of sweatpants before flopping back onto his bed. He stared up at the ceiling watching the ceiling fan lazily go round and round. It didn't help with the overbearing heat that Hell always had, not in the slightest. But the round and round motion was soothing. It put him into a trance that allowed the soothing numbness to return.

He didn't know how much time passed before he heard the far off click of his front door. He tensed up but didn't move.

"Vox?" His shoulders relaxed marginally when he heard Velvette's voice. Only marginally.

"You in here?" He didn't respond, only let her walk through his apartment in search of him. She'd eventually find him. And sure enough, she did. His bedroom light turned on, blinding him as he still stared at his ceiling fan. He listened to her footsteps as she drew nearer. Out of his peripheral vision, she took shape. He then heard a sharp intake of breathe and he finally turned to look at her. "Is that...a hickey?"

Her eyes were fixated on his neck. He lifted a heavy hand to cover it with his claws. His stomach twisted in shame. Her face twisted in anger. "What the fuck Vox?" Damn, she sounded angry.

"What?" he said dryly.

"You and he, fuck, again? Why would you-"

He looked away and back at the fan as he frowned. "It's not like I have a choice," he bit out, cutting her off. And then felt guilty when he saw the flinch out of the corner of his eye.

"Right. Sorry." She sounded small. Sheepish. That wasn't right. She shouldn't sound like that. Great, he made her feel small. "Fuck," she cursed. "Fuck!" He jumped slightly at the sudden outburst and turned weary eyes to her. She was looking down with a deep frown set on her face. He put that frown there. Stupid fucking idiot. So careless. If he had been better, more careful, quicker to clean things and himself up then they wouldn't be in this position. She'd still be peacefully ignorant. Hadn't he learned his lesson about being so selfish?

"Sorry, sorry," she said. She looked up at him. "That was - fuck, sorry. I shouldn't act like that. It's not your fault." He frowned as she took a deep breathe while she closed her eyes. After several seconds she finally opened them. Then she gave him a hard look and said, "I have a plan."

He blinked at her in confusion. "What?"

She shoved her hand into her pocket and fished out a small vial with a faint glowing gold liquid. He shrunk back in recognition. "I've tested it. Several times not to make sure. And it works. It bloody works." He looked away and back up at the fan.

Huh.

It works.

"Did you alter it in any way?" he asked, feigning nonchalance.

"Nope." She popped the P. "Not in the slightest."

Well fuck.

That was...something. His heart skipped a beat but other than that he stared up at the twirling fan blades. He felt no other reaction.

His grip on the bedsheets tightened minutely.

"Well?" Velvette said. "Say something!"

He shrugged one shoulder. "Good work. As usual." There was a faint clinking noise from the fan. Was a screw loose? He should probably fix that. "I'm sure we can market it and sell it to the masses. They'll be thrilled to know that they won't have to die an excruciating death from some minor knick that was laced with poison. You know, at a price."

"What the fuck, Vox?!" Velvette cried, throwing her arms up, the antidote still clutched in her hand. "I just told you that I can cure you the man you've been obsessing about for ages and that's all the reaction I get?"

Yes, there was definitely a screw loose. It was too noisy. "Used to be obsessing over. That's done now," he said flatly.

A laugh was startled out of Velvette. "Done now? Bullshit! Just the other week you were stressing over him keeling over because you dropped his damn antidote and you now what, don't care?"

"That's what I said."

Silence befell them, except for the whirling of the fan. It was soothing.

"No," Velvette said. He could see her shaking her head out of the corner of his eyes. "No. I don't buy it. But fine, you don't care about the Radio Demon? All's the better." She took a step closer to the bed, depositing the antidote in her pocket, and placed her hands on the bed, leanig close. "Because that means I don't have to convince you to let me trap him in a deal by giving this to him."

"Won't work," he said.

"What? Why?" she asked in incredulity.

"Because I already gave the first sample to him."

"You what??!" she cried, causing his audio processors to screech.

"He came here. I gave it to him. Simple as that."

"But, what?" She spluttered. "When? Why? What?!"

"About a week ago. After...everything." He gulped and finally sat up, feeling too exposed laying back and having Velvette stare down at him.

"He came here? To the tower? He never comes here!" She said, running a hand through her hair. "And why the fuck would he come here?"

Vox clasped his hands tightly together, his claws digging into the back of his hands. The pain felt...nice. But as soon as that thought entered his head the pressure let up. The phantom chain at his neck prevented him from digging his nails purposefully back in. He took a deep breath to stave off the irritation and rising panic at that. He shook his head and shrugged. He said casually, "To kill me."

"WHAT?!?" A weak uncontrollable signal brushed at Vox's head. It was usually only when she became particularly emotional that he could feel that sort of thing from her. It made him feel nostalgic. He had cut himself off from ever being able to feel something similar. But her signal felt different. WiFi. Versus radio.

"Vel, please," he cringed away. The signal quickly dissipated. His shoulders relaxed. "It's fine. I took care of it."

"But he came here to kill you! And after everything you've been doing for you that piece of shit!" She growled. "And why didn't you tell me? You should have told me!"

He huffed. "I took care of it, Velvette. It's not a big deal. He can barely stand on his own two feet let alone go up against me. It wasn't an issue."

"He still came here, to your own turf, and tried to KILL you. And after you've been trying to save his sorry arse, the NERVE!" She stamped her foot on the ground and crossed her arms. If the feeling of emptiness wasn't so profound he would have laughed at the childish display. She sighed. "Then why did you give him the damn antidote when he was being such a tosser?"

Yes, why?

Vox sat there staring forward as he leaned on his hands that were placed on either side of himself. He'd tried to kill Vox. And then Vox had tried to kill Alastor. Right? That burst of electricity was more instinctive than anything when he hit him that first time. He was so...broken. His best chance he'd had in a long time at being free, at being released from his chain, was right there. RIGHT THERE! And then...it wasn't.

Alastor had thrown the gun and bullet in opposite directions. His bullet. His salvation. He'd held on to it for so long and the promise it kept. But now he was unable to follow through with it and it felt like finally he was able to follow through. Alastor had come there to kill him, he had said. And yet once Vox had literally put the gun in his hand and begged him to do it he decided to what, torment him further? I mean, what was the fun in killing a person that literally was asking for it. Right?

So why throw it to him even as he shot another charge directly at him?

He remembered how Alastor's voice sounded when he shouted "NO" and wrenched himself away from Vox as Vox held his hands, clasped around the gun, to his head. And again when he said Vox's name afterwards. He shivered.

"I don't know," he said on a broken whisper.

Velvette didn't respond. The fan clicked by and the two sat there in silence.

Velvette then sighed. "That's ok. That's," another sigh. "Fine. I'll think of something else."

He turned slightly towards her. "What do you mean?" Then he remembered. "You had said you had a plan?"

Her hand came to rest on his shoulder and he just barely kept himself from flinching. "Dont' worry about it. It's nothing." She squeezed. "Now." She patted him and withdrew making Vox suddenly feel cold. So strange. The room still felt so hot. "That fucker better still be alive after everything. Would be pretty shitty if he wasn't. He deserves to have his arse handed to him by the Vee's." She couged. "Err, by you and me after what he did, coming here to pick a fight. Twat. Plus, he owes us one now. After what he did. Don't care if he wasn't in an actual deal when you gave him that antidote. He owes us."

Vox wanted to laugh. When had Alastor ever felt like he owed anyone anything? If he was still alive, which now seemed more than likely, than he was probably laughing his ass off back at that hotel at Vox's own stupidity. He wondered if maybe he'd eventually deliver the death that Vox so desperatly was begging for. Eventually.
__________________________________________________________________
Days had passed after Xavier's long trek to Mississippi. There were no flights available to him soon enough, at least not at an exuberant price. Despite his celebrity status, there was only so much he could afford in the depression. Especially when so much went towards trying to care for and heal his sister.

So instead he found himself on a train, and then a bus, and then a train again, as he made his way to Jackson, Mississippi. And then he found himself a taxi to take him to the sanitarium where Olivia was at. He twisted his hands together as he drew nearer and nearer.

Talk, she had said. They would talk.

Fuck! What would he say? He'd agonized over it and he always came up short. Could he really tell her about Harvey? And why he did what he did? She'd be devastated. What sort of brother would he be if he told her and made her shoulder that responsibility?

The sanitarium loomed in the distance and his heart stuttered. Sweat beaded at his forhead and he took a deep breathe.

He stepped out of the car as it pulled to a stop in front of the building. He made his way inside and informed the nurse at the front desk who he was and why he was there. Her eyes widened and he steeled himself for a gushing fan. He wasn't in the mood and yet she excused herself and said she'd be only a monent. Well, at least she had some decorum.

And then he sat there in waiting for several more moments before finally the director of the facility approached him. He walked towards him down a long hallway, his face serious and his posture stiff. For some reason, things seemed to be going in slow motion to Xavier as he watched the director walk down the hall. He didn't know why but there was an underlying sense of dread croping up. The director finally stopped right before him, looking down at Xavier with a sympathetic look.

"Mr. Vox, sir?" He didn't know why it sounded like a question. The man had met him before. Yet Xavier nodded. "I'm so sorry. We tried to contact you but it seemed you were already making your way here." The director clasped his hands tightly before him and looked down. Xavier swallowed and grabbed ahold of his pants leg tightly. "I know you called your sister days ago but she took a rapid turn soon after. She hadn't been doing well for quite some time before, anyways." Xavier began shaking his head, already dreading the next words. She hadn't been doing well? She hadn't told him. "I'm so sorry. Truly I am." The man took a deep breathe. "But your sister passed away yesterday. Late afternoon."

No. No, no, no, no.

He bent forward, clutching at his hair. No. No she can't be dead. Liar. He's a liar.

"I'm not lying, sir," said the director. "I truly am sorry."

Tears fell down, falling onto the linoleum between his feet as he clutched at his hair. A cry tore from his lips as he began to rock back and forth. No, no, no. He was alone. His siblings were gone. Olivia. Victor. God, don't do this again. Please. I tried so hard to keep her alive. I worked hard this time. Please, please, no!

He felt a tentative hand rest gently at his shoulder but that only made a gut wrenching scream tear from his throat. The director stumbled back several feet, bringing his hand with him.

Xavier didn't care. Why would he care? His sister had just died. Olivia. His dear Olivia. The cold feeling of his wedding ring felt like it burned against his finger as he wished more than anything that Grace was there to hold him. No, that wasn't true. He wished more than anything that Olivia was. He hadn't felt her touch in years. And he missed it more than ever. And he knew now, that he would never feel it again.
_________________________________________________________________________
Charlie sat anxiously in the lobby of the hotel as she stared up the stairs at the upper levels. All the rooms were up there. Including Alastor's.

No one had seen him for days. Not for over a week now. She worried especially due to his delicate state. She had tried to go to his room to check on him multiple times but had always been stopped by Husk. The other demon had insisted that he was fine and just need some rest. She felt bad for not fully trusting his word until she saw Nifty happily scurrying around the hotel without a care in the world. Surely if there was any reason to be concerned then Nifty would not be so carefree.

She sighed. Alastor wasn't her only concern. Her mother had been acting...strange as of late. Honestly, ever since she returned. She seemd almost distracted. More reserved. Her parents had barely conversed too. And she couldn't even blame her father for that. He seemed overly nervous, constantly trying to approach her mother but she always ended up either ignoring him or exiting the room before he could approach her. Charlie felt sympathy for her father, wishing to help him but also feeling like she was walking on egg shells around her mother.

And the past couple of days she had been even more distant. Down right agitated if Charlie were to be less charitable. Her father looked so sad and she didn't know what to do.

"Babe, are you alright?"

Charlie looked to her side and saw Vaggie looking at her with a concerned expression. She smiled at her girlfriend. "Yeah I'm ok. I'm just worried about Alastor. We only have so much time left to help him out, you know?"

Vaggie sighed. "Yeah. I know. But you're doing everything you can with Heaven to try and get them to agree upon an earlier meeting to give you the antidote. But they're stubborn. Don't beat yourself up if they don't agree. It's not your fault."

"I know that," she said. "I'm just worried that Vox will be the one beating himself up." The look on the other demons face was downright devastated as he tried to scrape the remaining drops of antidote into a cup.

Vaggie placed her hand on Charlie's knee. "That was quite the scene," she said. "But it's not his fault either. Probably." She didn't sound like she fully believed herself. "He tripped. That's all."

"Yeah, he tripped," said Charlie. Because that's what happened. "I know he did. He didn't, like, do it on purpose."

Vaggie cringed. "He didn't," said Charlie, forefully. "He's been helping us so much. I know it was an accident."

Vaggie nodded but looked away. "Yeah. Yeah. I'm sure that's what happened."

Charlie's shoulders dropped. She knew that Vaggie didn't trust the Overlord and despite Charlie's insistance she couldn't exactly blame her. He was an Overlord. It was hard to prove his genuine intentions. And yet she believed that he didn't mean for it to happen. The look on his face, the desperation; she knew he was a skilled actor but even she didn't think that Vox could fake that level of desperation to try and scrape up every last drop of the spilled antidote. Right? She twisted her hands together tighter.

A knock suddenly sounded at the front door, drawing both of their attention. They then looked at each other in question. Was it maybe a new guest? Was that too much to hope for?

Charlie got up from the couch, Vaggie soon following after her. They made their way to the front door and stood there, right before it, waiting. Then there was another knock.

Charlie quickly opened the door and they both stared outside with wide eyes at their visitor. Charlie could practically feel Vaggie vibrating with the desire to pull her spear out.

"Oi! Where's the deer?" said the woman. "I need to speak with him."

Charlie nervously chuckled as she gave a weak smile at the Overlord Velvette.

Notes:

In 1936:

Xavier (Vox) is 31
Grace is 31
Olivia is 34

 

Historical facts about this chapter:

The great depression is still going. It goes from 1929-1939.

A lavender marriage is a marriage between a man and a woman where one or both partners are homosexual or bisexual, and the marriage is intended to hide their sexual orientation. The term originated in the early 20th century, when it was used to describe marriages of public celebrities, especially in Hollywood. I don't know how widely used this term was used but lets say for the sake of this story, it was widely used enough that Xavier and Grace would know and use the term.

Was there a tuberculosis hospital outside of Jackson Mississippi? No. At least not one that was prominent from what I can tell. Did I want to make it conveniently close-ish to where Vox and Olivia grew up? Yes. That being said, there were specific hospitals, or sanitariums, where people were treated for specific chronic illnesses back in the day. In my home state there were historically an abundant of tuberculosis hospitals due to the theory that an abundance of sunshine and drier climates could improve tuberculosis symptoms. As such, Colorado has so many old remnants of TB hospitals. Unfortunately Mississippi is not considered a dry climate. But you know what, I've already established that Vox grew up in Mississippi. So it is what it is. For the sake of the story, Mississippi had a GREAT TB hospital.

Cocaine was made illegal in the US in 1914 by the Harrison Narcotic Act. Additionally, one of the side effects of cocaine is it can cause panic attacks.

 

Yeah so I intentionally made the very beginning of the first chunk to make it seem like Olivia might already be dead. The way Grace and Xavier are talking about her and wishing she was there at their wedding, yeah, it was meant to psych you out. ONLY to then crush you and kill Olivia later on. I liked the parallel of having the most important person to Alastor and the most important person to Xavier both dying in back-to-back chapters. And now we enter the era of having Grace be the most important person to both of them. The tether between the two before they ever even knew each other. Like yeah, we've already established Grace as being someone that Vox loves deeply in the past but like now she's all he has left. Grace is soon to take a more prominent part in Alastor's life, outside that small little cameo when she was just a child and dropped his dang eggs.

Which YO!!! Grace and Vox got married! I'll be honest, that tidbit was more of a recent addition. Obviously they were always meant to be super close to each other and consider each other family but to be married and have that platonic sort of soulmate vibe, I loved it when I started researching and finding out about lavender marriages. I thought, considering their relationship and past, it would be ridiculous not to have them have a lavender marriage. And what I had planned for Grace when she wasn't married to Vox I honestly wasn't super attached to. I think this turn will make things SO much more exciting and devastating. Wink wink, y'all will hate me. As I'm sure you do (you know, in the love to hate vibes).

And as always, stay tuned until next time!

Chapter 21: A Mother's Funeral and a Knife

Summary:

It's New Years Eve of 1918 and the wake for Alastor's mother is still going on. There is some uninvited guests that will prove to be an oncoming complication.

In the present, Alastor and Velvette have a discussion. Then Angel Dust decides to hazard having a conversation with the Overlord Velvette.

Notes:

Hey, this is a rather soon update, all things considering. I hope you all enjoy!

TW for this chapter: not much really, discussions of canon typical murder/violence I guess

1918

Alastor sat on his mother’s front porch as singing and dancing went on around him. There was laughter from inside his mother’s house. A game of dominos had been played off and on now for the past couple of days that he had no desire to partake in. He wanted to kick everyone out, but he knew it was tradition for the friends and family to gather at the deceased's home for food, music, dance, and prayer. On top of that, it was New Years Eve. The food and music he could abide, to an extent, it was the prayer that truly grated on his nerves.

He'd done the closest thing to praying that he had done in years now just one week ago. He prayed and there was no answer. What would praying do anyways?

Priestess Maxine had performed the ritual a couple days ago that would ensure his mother’s spirit would be released to the spirit world. He allowed the ritual even though he feared that it was pointless. Even if the soul of the deceased did stick around its body for a week afterwards, Alastor worried that it didn’t matter. There was no soul of his mother’s left.

He jumped slightly, scowling at the particularly loud burst of laughter coming from a group of young people dancing on his mother’s front lawn. He heard the groan of the wood from where he had a tight grip on the armrest of the rocking chair he sat in. He forced himself to let go slowly. It was his mother’s favorite chair. She’d have hated it if he damaged it.

Just then the front door was flung open, the flimsy screen door clanging against the wall. Alastor frowned at the person but relaxed marginally when he saw it was Mimzy. She looked around and then lit up once she noticed him off to the side.

“Ah there you are, Al! You’d think it wouldn’t be so hard finding you in such a small house. But this place is stuffed full more than a whore on a Saturday night.” She came to plop down on the bench next to Alastor with two plates of food in her hands.

Alastor sneered. “No need to be so vulgar.”

She rolled her eyes. “Such a prude. You’d think you’d lose some of that prudishness after being friends with me but you’re just as tight-laced as ever. Here.” She thrust one of the plates towards him. “Eat this. You’ve barely eaten anything the past couple of days.”

He took the plate without comment and stared down at the food. It was all staples of his childhood, food he’d grown up with that his mother had taught him how to make. It made his stomach twist in a knot. He could see Mimzy staring at him out of the corner of his eyes, however, so he forced himself to take a spoonful of food. She relaxed marginally and dug into her own food.

After several minutes of eating in companionable silence Mimzy set her mostly finished plate down and sat back to watch the multiple people mingling about. “I’ve gotta say. This sure seems like the best way to honor a loved one. Good food. Good music. Some dancin’ and drinkin’. It’s great!”

“I hate it,” huffed Alastor. “So many of these people abandoned my mother after she had me. They’re part of the reason she retreated out here to the bayou. Easier than having to deal with their judgmental faces’ day-in and day-out.” He scowled as he heard more laughing coming from inside the house. “And now they’re all here acting like they cared for her. Vultures. The whole lot.”

Mimzy sighed and he frowned at her. “Look, hun,” she started. “I ain’t sayin’ that they probably weren’t bastards when you were young and in those early years, but people change. Or your mama was just a downright saint. Because some of these people I recognize. They’d come into the club and your mama would serve them up. She’d sit down and eat with them even.” She shrugged. “Seems like they cared for her a whole lot.”

Alastor scoffed. “Or taking advantage of her good charity. Hoping to get free meals, I’m sure. My mother was too forgiving for her own good. Gave too many people too much leeway. They didn’t deserve her.” Just like he never had.

“You’ll get no argument from me on that front,” said Mimzy. “I’m just sayin’, I think these people were actually some of her friends. Don’t go chewin’ their heads off.”

Alastor scowled and looked down at his plate, taking another bite. “I haven’t thus far, now have I?”

“Nah ya haven’t. You’ve been positively on your best behavior, which I’m impressed! Keep up the good work!”

Alastor glared at her but made no further comment with great effort. She was the last friend in his life. It wouldn’t do to alienate her from him. Although it would likely be in her best interest.

“Speakin’ of friends,” Mimzy began. “Where’s Jude?” Alastor froze with a spoon full of food hallway to his mouth. “I know he’s catholic and all, but I would have thought he’d look past any sort of non-Christian rituals in order to at least come here and support ya. What gives?”

Alastor had left Father Boaz’s corpse in his church, right at the foot of the alter almost as if he was a sacrifice to his unforgiving God. Alastor had carved the same bloody and torn smile he’d carved into bodies countless times now but had not done so in over a year. All his victim’s during his association with the priest had been given to the man for his acts of service in feeding the less fortunate. The papers had speculated about the Smiling Killer either being dead or having gone off to fight in the war due to the lack of any new known victims. He knew that Father Boaz’s body had been discovered, how couldn’t it have? It was Christmas Eve when Alastor had killed him. And yet there hadn’t been any word in the papers about the return of New Orlean’s monster.

Why were the police keeping things quiet? Why hadn’t they reported it to the public? He knew it was a matter of time before people found out that the priest that had once spoken almost highly about the killer turned out to be the latest victim after a yearlong absence on the killer’s part. And once the public found out, Mimzy would know too. Alastor swallowed thickly and looked up.

What would she think? She knew he was the Smiling Killer. She was there for the first identified victim of the killer and supported him. She even knew that he hadn’t stopped killing over the past year, but she had questioned why he hadn’t left any victims with wide smiles for the police to find. Alastor had kept quiet about his dealings with Father Boaz. Murder of the seedier underbelly of the city was one thing, but cannibalism? The deaths of the less fortunate twisted into a facsimile of “mercy”?

“He and I,” Alastor started slowly, not making eye-contact. “Have had a sort of…falling out.”

“What? Since when?” she cried in incredulity. “You two are thick as thieves! And your mama just died after someone broke into her house an’ murdered her! I don’t care what sort of falling out y’all had, he should be here!”

That’s right, the story Alastor had told was that someone had broken into his mother’s house, all the way out here in the middle of nowhere and slit her throat. He had to come up with some sort of story that would explain the slit throat. The police seemed to have bought the story. His mother didn’t have locks on her doors so it would have been more than easy for someone to just walk on in. They had told him that they would keep investigating but told him it was very unlikely they’d catch the killer. Alastor was equal parts furious because he knew they were lying about continuing to investigate, an older unmarried black woman in the middle of the woods, the police force would certainly not care. And yet he was glad that there wouldn’t be anyone looking deeper into the issue and as such, closer to him.

“Wait,” started Mimzy. “Are you the one boxin’ him out? I know Christmas Eve ya were searchin’ for her, and I told ya to go to his church. Did you go there, and he didn’t help look? I mean, I didn’t really help either and you ain’t snubbin’ me so that don’t make no sense.”

Alastor grimaced. “No, that’s not it-”

“Then what?” she asked. “I need to know if I need to go kick his skinny ass for abandonin’ you or not.”

Alastor closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. He should just tell her. He needed to tell her before she found out through the papers. If she found out that way, then would she fear that he would do the same to her?

He sighed and dropped his hand down between his legs, both hands dangling from where he leaned both elbows on his thighs. He opened his eyes and stared down at his feet. The cicadas trilled all around them, somehow managing to ring out even over the noise of the music and laughter. It was soothing. It always had been to him, especially as a child when he would fall asleep to the sounds of it accompanied by the faint humming or singing from his mother in the kitchen. He’d never hear her sing again.

“Jude didn’t abandon me. He did betray me though,” he said quietly.

“What do ya mean?” she asked in confusion.

“There’s been things I’ve kept from you over the past year. Things I didn’t know how you’d react to if you knew the truth,” he began. “Jude…wasn’t the sort of person you thought he was. He was far darker than you could imagine.”

There was silence. He knew that a thousand possibilities of what he meant were likely swirling through her head. He’d been so vague. “He wasn’t like, some kiddy toucher, was he?”

It wasn’t a bad guess, but he shook his head. “No. Nothing like that.”

Mimzy looked around to make sure there was no one close and then said, “He kill people?”

He gave a bitter smile. “You have no idea.”

“Shit,” she said. “I really liked him too.” He wanted to laugh. Oh, how he did too. “Who’d he kill? People who weren’t assholes, I’m guessin’.”

He felt tears prickling at his eyes. “You have no idea,” he whispered.

“Hey,” she said gently, making him lift his head finally. She looked at him with concerned eyes. “Who’d he kill, Al?”

He thinks that on some level, she knew if the slow frown that inched its way across her face was any indication. The tears in his eyes were surely a dead giveaway. She then started shaking her head back and forth. “No. No. He wouldn’. He was your friend, surely he wouldn’t. Oh, Al.” She leaned forward and grabbed onto one of his hands tightly. He fought the urge to pull away. “Say it ain’t so.”

“I wish I could.” His voice actually trembled.

“Oh Al.” She looked away and quickly blinked in an effort to banish her own tears forming. “So, all that story about someone breakin’ in? That was a bunch of hooey?”

“She had a slit throat,” he said. “I had to come up with some sort of story. And I couldn’t leave her where she was at. I wouldn’t have done that,” he said forcefully. There was no chance in Hell he’d allow her to remain anywhere near him for a second longer. “Besides, if her body was found near him then there would likely be uncomfortable questions.”

“What do ya mean?” Then she seemed to realize. “Wait, he’s dead then, ain’t he? Of course he is. You wouldn’t leave him alive if he did all that. But why would there be questions?” She didn't sound afraid at the prospect of him having killed Father Boaz. She sounded as if it was a given fact. He felt bolstered by her support.

“The Smiling Killer is one of the most well-known killers in this city. Maybe even nationwide. The police would have been interested in a black woman with a slit throat being found next to the latest victim of the Smiling Killer.”

Mimzy furrowed her brows. “Latest victim? I ain’t heard of no latest victim? And I thought you was done with all that. I mean not the actual killin’s just the whole smiley-face thing.”

Alastor shrugged. “I killed him that same night when I found her. A week ago. And yet there’s been no word of it in the papers. I haven’t a clue why.”

“Well shit.” Mimzy sat back in her seat, releasing Alastor’s hand. “I mean, you have been MIA for some time now. Maybe they’re just tryin’ to keep the public from panicking because ya’s back or somethin’. I don’t know.”

Seemed like as good of a theory as any. It still seemed strange. If the police thought the Smiling Killer was back, you’d think they’d tell the public, concerned that new victims would crop up. And if the public found out that the police were keeping this information from them and more deaths arose, the public would likely turn on the police force. Something didn’t sit right with him about the whole thing, outside of the obvious. There had to be a reason they were keeping things quiet.

“Hey Alastor!” cried one of the guests from the lawn. Alastor frowned and turned an annoyed look at the young man. That’s when he saw the man was pointing at a small boat traveling down the river and approaching. “You got guests!”

There were countless other boats of varying sizes roped off to his mother’s dock or trees. It was far more than he’d ever seen there before, not knowing how to accommodate everyone at first. But they had made it work over the past couple of days with different guests coming and going. They hadn’t had anyone as of late and he figured that today would have been the last of the wake and everyone returning home the next day.

Alastor looked more closely at the two men on the boat, however, and knew immediately they weren’t guests. Two white men in cheap suits sat in the boat, one rowing with his back to them and the other sitting back and watching them as they got closer. The man appeared to be middle-aged with a trimmed beard that was greying at the tips. The man was balding as well and had a rounded belly. The most prominent feature though was the man’s severe and critical expression. His bushy brows gave the impression that his eyes were narrowed, casting his face into a harsh light.

“Who are they?” asked Mimzy.

He shook his head. “I have no idea.”

He got to his feet and descended the couple of steps down to the front lawn. The guests parted for him to allow him to get to the dock and greet the newcomers. The young man who had pointed out the new arrivals fell into step beside him. Alastor couldn’t remember the kids name, Landry or Laurant, but either way he got up close to Alastor. “Who are them white folks? You know them?”

“No.”

“You want me to go get some of the otha’s and kick them out? My pa and uncles-”

“That won’t be necessary,” he said dismissively. “I’ll take care of this.”

The boy reluctantly wondered off to go converse with some of the other young guests still on the lawn, all of which were eyeing the white men with suspicion. The one not rowing stared directly at Alastor critically. Once they got close enough, he called out to him. “Hello good sir, would you please be kind enough to tie us off at your dock?”

Alastor put on his best disarming smile but knew that it likely came out looking more like a grimace or sneer. “This is my mother’s property. And this is her wake. Unless you were acquainted with her somehow, I would kindly ask for you to leave.”

The one rowing then turned around and Alastor was shocked to recognize the detective who had spoke to Alastor about his mother’s murder. Was the police force actually taking it seriously?

“Mr. Augustin, we apologize for dropping in like this. But we were hoping to talk with you today,” said Detective Castain.

He could refuse but knew that it would just be putting off the inevitable. He gave a curt nod and caught the rope that was thrown to him. He tied it off and both officers stepped up onto the dock.

“Mr. Augustin," said Detective Castain, indicating towards the other man with his hand. "Allow me to introduce you to Detective Rene Taylor.”
________________________________________________________________________
A knock came at Alastor's door.

His ear twitched backwards towards the sound. His hands came down from where magic flowed throught them, creating, so much different then what they were used to. The smell of dirt and water and plants swirled around him from where he had finally started on creating his own personal haven within the hotel. His mother's bayou. He'd just barely gotten started, not even getting to the long dock that would take him to the re-creation of his mother's home, and he was irritated at being interrupted.

He gave out a low grumble as he turned towards the door. He took several purposeful steps towards the door as another more insistent knock could be heard. He grabbed ahold the doorknob and tore it open as again, another knock could be heard. He snarled at his univited guest and was met with a sheepish and nervous looking Charlie accompanied by, wait, was that the Overlord Velvette?

"Uhh, hi," said Charlie with a small wave of her fingers. "Uhm, you have a guest? I guess? Uhh, she said she needed to talk to you." Charlie shot weary eyes towards Velvette out of the corner of her who had crossed arms and her hip was cocked out to the side in a distinctly unimpressed look. She looked downright annoyed and arrogant. Like usual.

"It's Overlord business, like I said," said Velvette without looking at Charlie, instead glaring at Alastor for some unknown reason. Alastor narrowed his eyes slightly at the child, not backing down from the clear intimidation tactic. It would do anyting but work on him, especially now. He took a deep breath and relished the feeling as air entered his lungs without complaint.

"Riiighhhhtttt," Charlie drawled. "It's just, I mean, I really don't want any problems here. Not that I think you will cause problems!" cried Charlie, throwing her hands up in a placating manner towards Velvette. "I know you're friends with Vox and I have the deepest respect for him it's just-"

"Yeah, yeah, you don't trust the Vee's. It's whatever, babes," said Velvette with an eyeroll. "Smart actually to be distrustful of an Overlord, good for you. But I'm not here to cause trouble. If I do then I'd be pretty stupid. I saw your daddy lurking around downstairs. He'd smite me - smite me? that's right? he's a former angel- if I so much as stepped a toe out of line. You don't have to worry," she said with a downright sinister smile she shot towards Charlie. Then she waved a single hand towards her in a 'shooing' manner and said, "Now go on. We'll be fine."

Charlie still looked skeptical and Alastor couldn't blame her. Obviously the child was up to no good but Alastor kept quiet, curious how Charlie would respond. Alastor was strong enough now that he trusted he wouldn't have an issue against the lower Overlord. But then again, Charlie didn't know that. Charlie shot concerned eyes towards Alastor and he finally relented, giving her a single small nod, letting her know it was fine.

Her shoulders sagged slightly before she stood up straighter to show her confidence and strength. It was...passable. "Alright," she said with a nod. "But if you need anyting just let me know." The comment was directed more towards Alastor than the intruder but Velvette made no comment.

Charlie finally tore herself away and walked down the hallway, shoointg the occasional look behind her. Alastor stared down at the small woman, so short for an Overlord, for a Demon really. Most Demons were taller than what they were while alive. Was she? Alastor narrowed his eyes at her and thought that perhaps she was just exceptionally short while alive. Close to five feet if he had to guess. It translated to her short stature as a Demon which was closer to just under six feet. How embarassing he thought, to be the youngest and the smallest. So many other Overlord's were beyond tall. The shortest coming in at Vox, just shy of an inch shorter than Alastor with his antennas while Alastor's ear's were at their full height. It was a point of contention between them while they were friends. Who was actually taller since Alastor's ear's were not always erect and Vox's antenna weren't a real part of him, as Alastor always said. Nostalgia hit him at the reminder.

Despite the tiny size, the woman glared back at him without flinching. Either she was stupid or she was truly that arrogant he didn't know. The lack of any sting in his chest made him think it was the later.

Alastor took a step back, opening his door to his room with him. "Well, do come in."

Velvette stood there for several seconds as Alastor stared back with a wide smile plastered to his unflinching face. He knew he'd win the staring match but she was a wonderful adversary in at least this fashion. Finally she walked in without any comment or other reaction. Alastor made sure to slam the door to see if he would get a reaction but still nothing. Good for her. But how foolish.

She looked around with disinterest before her gaze couldn't help but fall towards the unfinished swamp. She stared at it with crossed arms and an unimpressed look but he knew she found it impressive. There weren't many Demons with the ability to create things in a spacial anomaly that defies physics. Her prolonged look spoke volumes besides the forced disinterest.

"It stinks in here," she finally said, making Alastor's ear twitch. "Why would you make something that smells like this?"

His eyes narrowed but he clasped his hands behind his back to give off an air of nonchalnace. "Clearly you lived in an area without any real conection to nature if you find the smell of dirt and water to be disgusting. But what should I expect from a child from an era such as yourself."

Velvette whipped her head to the side to glare up at him where he stood beside her. "Fuck you. I grew up in the heart of London and it didn't smell like this shite. It smells like fish and pond water in here. Why would you want this?"

Alastor bristled and then sniffed. "Why are you here? It's very rude for another Overlord to come onto another Overlord's turf without an invite and not expect to be attacked."

Velvette let out an obnoxious laugh that seemed like she was mocking him. His smile strained at the corners and his shadow hissed. It twisted in discomfort at having the intruder mock them. "Ha! Rude?! You talk to me about what's rude? You know what's rude?" Velvette turned to glare at him. "Showing up on not just one but THREE Overlord's turf and trying to kill one of them. THAT'S fucking rude, you tosser!"

Alastor's ear and corner of his mouth twitched. So Vox had told her about that. He shouldn't have expected Vox to keep that from his partners. Vox had tried to kill him and he had tried to "kill" Vox. Why wouldn't he have told his business partners? His ear twitched again in agitation. His shadow hissed.

'Contain you jealousy,' it growled.

He took a deep breath. He wasn't jealous. Fuck his damn ear and the damn twitch it wouldn't stop doing.

"My business with Vox is between me and him," he sniffed. Turning around and striding towards his bayou for a couple of steps, giving off the presentation that he was examining it with a critical eye. "What happened between us is none of your concern."

Suddenly there was a small hand on his shoulder, turning him around and he snarled at the tiny woman who bared her teeth right back. "Fuck you, it doesn't concern me! He's my best friend and you tried to kill him you fucking arsehole! The Vee's would be justified in starting a war with you for what you did!"

Alastor swallowed thickly. She wasn't wrong. It would be within the rights of the rules established between Overlords. Not that there were many. But there would be very little intervention on the other Overlords part if the Vee's were to challenge Alastor after he had so openly encrouched on Vox, and by extention his partners, territory. That being said, Alastor had established himself as an exception. His turf was currently where not just one, not just two, but three royal family members lived. Anyone who came here without an invitation was insane if they were someone of any significant status. Especially a Sinner. So why the Hell would Velvette be here?

"And yet I live here, amongst the Royal family. Do you really think you stand a single chance against them?" He grinned down at her even while he masked his distaste at hiding behind Lilith and her husband's protection.

Velvette scoffed. "Really? You're going to hide behind the Morningstars for what you did? Even if you do, do you really think they'd protect you? From what I hear the King doesn't particularly like you. And even if he did, would he really sacrifice a war with the Vee's? It would cause way too much death and chaos that his daughter would surely not like."

Alastor paused, thinking that over. She wasn't wrong. Even with the Morningstars fighting with them, surely there would be a lot of distruction and death to Sinners. Then again, the Morningstar's, or at least Lucifer, have never particularly been huge advocates of Sinner's lives. But then again, Alastor knew Lilith hated him. Oh how she loathed him. No one knew of their association but he could guarantee that now more than ever Lilith would love to see Alastor dead for good. Velvette didn't know how close she was to the truth and that two thirds of the Moringstar family would sooner wish him dead than help him.

And yet, Charlie liked him and wanted to protect him. She considered him a friend and he needed to capitalize on that.

"You are correct," he said. "Charlie wouldn't like the bloodshed, she never has. But she also wouldn't like you starting a war with one of her dear friends," he drawled with a wide smile. "And she holds quite a bit of sway with her parents. If she were to go to bat with me then her parents would follow." He hoped.

Velvette glared at Alastor for several seconds. Alastor could practically see the thoughts twirling around inside her head. Then she gave him a smile that Alastor did not like the look of. "You're right. She does seem to like you, Lord knows why, but she is rather naive afterall. That being said, you're not the only Overlord she seems to have developed a fond spot for." She looked to the ceiling, placed a single finger to her chin as if in thought, and hummed. "I do wonder what the Princess would think if she knew that you tried to kill Vox, the very Demon who's been trying sooooo hard to save your sorry arse."

Alastor swallowed thickly. When he had gone to V tower to get Vox to kill him he hadn't thought about what anyone else would think outside of dying at the hands of another Overlord would be a worthy death. He hadn't planned on living long enough to find out, obviously. But now that his fate has been changed he did wonder what others would think if they found out that he had gone to V tower under the pretense to start a fight with Vox and to kill him. To say that Charlie would be displeased was an understatement.

His shadow hissed in his mind. 'What does it matter what the abomindation thinks. Her opinion is inconsequential.'

Is it or is it not our mission to stay here at the hotel and gain her trust and confidence, he thought bitterly at his shadow. That did the trick and shut it up.

Alastor glared down at the tiny Demon. "I'll ask you again," he said through his teeth. "Why are you here?"

Velvette smirked, knowing that she had struck a cord. Her eyes then shot downward, looking at his chest before returning to his face.

"Take off you shirt," she said. Radio static screeched through the room and Velvette slapped her hands over her ears. "Bloody Hell! Don't fucking do that!"

"I won't if you don't demand me to undress," he said in irritation.

"Relax, the last thing I want is to see any part of your naked self, even if it is just your chest." She pointed at his chest. "I want to see your wound and see what state it is in."

"No," he simply said. He would NOT let this child anywhere near his person, let alone his still healing wound.

"No?" she said in exasperation. "Are you really that much of a stubborn twat that you won't even let me look at it?"

"Would you let an enemy anywhere near a weakness of yours?" he countered.

Velvette paused. "Yeah I guess that's a fair point but I'm not just any enemy. I'm the genius that you can thank for still being able to stand right now." Alastor's ear twitched. "Yeah, that's right. Vox also told me he gave you the antidote I recreated, right after you tried to kill him. You twat. But I'm sure you've taken it by now, especially since Vox said you could barely stand on your own two feet. But now look at you, practically the very picture of good health. Now let me see."

The woman actually had the audacity to try and grab his jacket, as if she was going to undress him herself. A shadowy tentacle shot up from beneath him and wrapped around her wrist just before she could lay a finger on him. He bent down and put his face in hers, baring his teeth and said, "Don't. Touch. Me," he growled.

She pulled back and he allowed her to break free from the shadow. "Fine. Then you do it."

"What do you even need to see it?" he said. "Is my obvious improved health not enough proof for you?"

She huffed. "This is something that I recreated from a substance that was provided by angel's that they said was an antidote that has never before been given to any Demon's before. Yeah, I ran some tests but that doesn't necessarily mean that it would actually work or have the desired effect on a real Demon. You are literally the first. I need to examine your wound in order to ensure it's actually working properly."

He supposed that sounded all reasonable. But it still begged the question as to why she would care in the first place. Despite this concern, with a great amount of reluctance, he began to unbotton his shirt just enough that he would be able to pull each side back and show her the wound.

Even to him it was quite shocking even though he had seen it multiple times now. There was no more pus. There was no more blood. There was a great scar marring from one side of his chest to the other side of his abdomen, red and angry looking, but that's all it was now. A scar.

Velvette leaned close but refrained from attempting to touch him again. "Damn," she said in wonder, more to herself than anything. "I've said it before and I'll say it again. You're a motherfucking genius, Velvette."

"Yes, yes, well done," he said snipply, re-buttoning his shirt and putting him back in order. "Well clearly you can see the antidote has worked. I am no longer on second-deaths door."

Velvette’s intrigued face transformed back into her typical scowl. She crossed her arms once more and walked over to the edge of his hotel room that bled into the bayou. She toed her shoe at the grass and dirt, feigning disinterest.

“You do realize that you have me AND Vox to thank for your sorry arse still being alive, right?”

Alastor’s smile twitched and he sneered at the back of her head. “So you’ve already stated. What is your point?”

“You owe us,” she said simply. “You owe us big.”

How foolish. Didn’t this young Overlord know that if you want a favor from someone you should ask for it first before giving or doing whatever it is that the other wants or needs? Alastor had already received the antidote and was healed. He had no obligation to do whatever for this insolent child.

But she had emphasized that he owed Vox as well. His heart clenched and he wondered if Vox had sent her here to ask for said favor. No, that was unlikely. Vox had no reason at this point to think Alastor would do anything for him, Alastor had made sure of that when he foolishly went to his tower. And Vox had to know that sending his business partner here was incredibly dangerous and ran the risk of the other Overlord never even returning. Maybe Vox didn’t care all that much for this foolish girl.

Or maybe, Vox had no idea she was even here and she was working alone. His eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Not so much of a genius if you think that I would feel obligated to repay you in some fashion after I’ve already been healed,” Alastor said. “Why would I do anything for you?”

Velvette shot a sneer over her shoulder at Alastor. “Because I know that you tried to kill Vox a week ago and the Princess will be pissed. Do you or do you not want her to find out?”

Alastor was internally seething. He didn’t want Charlie to know but was giving into whatever favor Velvette clearly wanted to ask of him really worth it? He gave her a threatening smile, cocking his head to the side, his neck snapping ominously as he dangled his head at a ninety-degree angle. “And what exactly would you ask of me, hhm? What exactly could you possibly desire of me that you think I would give to you willingly?”

Velvette shrugged one shoulder. “Something that I have no doubt that you’d love to do yourself anyways, but you’ve refrained from doing. Which is odd, now that I think about it. You have a reputation for killing other Overlords and taking great pleasure in it.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” he said lowly, dangerously.

Velvette wasn’t cowed, however. “And you hate Valentino.”

Now that made him pause. He blinked in surprise, not expecting such a turn. What was she getting at exactly? “Yes,” he said slowly. There was no point in denying it. Everyone knew he had a distaste for the moth and had for decades now.

“And yet you never killed him. Curious,” she said in a contemplative tone. “You’ve never stopped yourself from killing other Overlords, or just Sinners in general, when you hate them so much. But you have when it comes to Valentino.”

Velvette wasn’t the first to point out such an oddity. On more than one occasion Rosie had alluded to the strange behavior on Alastor’s part. But she had been there from the start, she knew about everything that happened between Alastor and Vox, was friends with both of them and knew of Vox’s new friendship that started so very long ago. She also was more than aware of Alastor’s distaste with the Demon. And yet, even in those early days, Alastor not once tried to kill the moth. At the time he told himself it was because it wouldn’t be worth his time. But now, now he knew his feelings for Vox dictated more than a fair share of Alastor’s actions. If Valentino had died, at Alastor’s hands no less, Vox would have been more than just displeased.

Had this child who had been in Hell less than a full decade caught on to Alastor’s feelings that he had concealed so well that even he himself wasn’t fully aware of the level of care Alastor had for Vox?

“Is there a point we will be reaching soon?” he asked sharply.

The girl had the audacity to smirk. “What, the big bad Radio Demon afraid to go after Valentino because he’s afraid of getting his arse handed to him when the Vee’s come?”

Alastor just barely managed to keep the radio screech from sounding off once more. This girl thought that Alastor hadn’t killed Valentino because he was, what, afraid of Vox? Afraid of his reaction, sure, but never once had Alastor been afraid of Vox. He thought of the week prior and silently amended that thought that until recently he hadn’t. Which was perhaps foolish now that he thought about it and knew the truth about every fight they had ever been in. Vox had never given his all. But Alastor never knew that until now.

Despite this, the implication that Alastor was afraid was a stab to his pride. He allowed his antlers to grow in length as he stalked closer to the small woman. “You would do well to hold your tongue while you are here alone on MY territory. I am not afraid of the Vee’s, and I never have been.”

“Sure, whatever you say love,” she said while she examined her fingernails on one hand, disinterested. Alastor could feel his anger slowly taking over him and wondered again, how attached was Vox truly to this girl? Surely it can’t be anywhere near the same level of attachment he has for the disgusting moth.

He suddenly remembered the Overlord meeting then and Velvette’s insistence that she was only attempting to recreate the antidote for Vox’s benefit. She cared for him, and Alastor hazarded a guess that Vox cared for her deeply too. All of the interactions he’d briefly observed between them, it was obvious that Vox felt for her at least on some level. Dammit.

And then he thought of Rosie’s comment. ‘Kicking out your third,’ Rosie had said. Vox and Velvette were arguing about getting rid of Valentino? But who was for which side of the argument. If Alastor had to hazard a guess, Velvette was the one who wished to get rid of the moth. How interesting.

Alastor loomed over the woman, allowing drool to trickle down from his wide maw and his antlers to reach their full height. His eyes turned to radio dials and the room darkened. He leaned down into her face and said slowly and threateningly, “Last chance. No more beating around the bush. Tell me why you are here, or I will remove you from my territory, forcibly.”

There was a twinge of fear that she was unable to mask, a vein in her neck twitching and her fingers fluttering by her sides. There was a flash of light reflecting off of something shiny in her hands. Were those needles? Not so confident now, he thought with a sick sort of glee.

“You want Valentino dead,” she said with a growl. Her eyes turned dark. “I want him dead too.”

Despite Alastor’s suspicions of the younger woman’s displeasure with the moth, he felt surprised that she would desire such an extreme measure. Rosie was right, ‘trouble in paradise’ indeed.

Alastor was certain now that Vox had no idea that the woman was here. She had gone behind his back to come to Alastor and what, ask for him to kill Valentino for her? To what end? Had the moth done something so despicable that she thought a final death was warranted? Or was she like so many other greedy power-hungry Overlords, obsessed with climbing the ladder? If Valentino was out of the picture than that would provide more money and power for her in the company that Vox had built up. With that newfound power would she aim for more? Was that already her goal, the final and ultimate Vee in control.

Alastor narrowed his eyes at her in suspicion and growled. “So, you’ve come here to ask me to kill one of your business associates for you?” He watched her throat bob as she swallowed. “Are you here asking me to kill just the one or will you then ask for me to kill the other?” Her brows furrowed. “You’ve made it clear that you are aware of my attempts on Vox’s life a week ago. Are you here to offer me another opportunity to do so?” Rage was boiling just under the surface at the mere implication.

“What, no!” she cried out in alarm. Alastor sneered at her as blood began to mix with the drool falling from his gaping mouth. “I only want Valentino-”

“Dead, so you say,” he growled. “But who’s to say you don’t want Vox dead too. A weak Overlord like yourself, you wouldn’t stand a chance against either of them, let alone both of them together. So you thought you’d go to the one Overlord who has made his distaste for the two of them clear over the years.” Bile rose in his mouth at the false statement but knew it was what everyone thought. “One who has never been afraid of challenging other Overlords and killing them permanently.”

His bones snapped as they elongated and turned him into a towering Demon. He slammed one of his large clawed hands into the ground just beside her. He had to give her credit, she barely even flinched and instead took up a defensive stance.

“Do you want to know how I have managed to go up against other Overlords so effortlessly and have all of them wind up double dead, never to be heard from again?” His shadow hissed a warning which he ignored. He wasn’t an idiot; he wouldn’t tell the child about Her. “My powers are great enough that anyone who dies by my hands dies permanently. No angelic steel is required.”

“B-bullshit,” she said with a hiss.

He cracked his neck to the other side. “Would you like to find out?”

That finally made the barely contained fear flash across her eyes but only for a moment. She then snarled at him and said, “Fuck you, you twat! I’m not here for some fight with you! You hate Valentino and so do I! I want him dead and so do you so what’s the hold up, huh? You help me kill him and I’ll call us even!”

“Give an inch and they’ll take a mile,” he said. “What’s to stop you from asking me for more favors once I kill your moth? You say you only want him dead but who next will you ask for? Carmine? Zestial? Vox?!” he snarled.

Her face twisted into a wrathful expression. “I’d NEVER ask you to kill Vox and if you so much as ever try to lay another finger on him again, I swear I’ll-”

“You’ll what, little doll?” He let out a menacing laugh. “You can’t even handle Valentino of all Overlords by yourself. You’ve come to me to ask for aid. You wouldn’t be able to do anything to me.” Never mind he had no further plans to ever try and hurt Vox again. But it was interesting, the protectiveness that was clear in her voice. Maybe she did care for Vox, truly care for him. But that was now. What about years down the line? This was Hell and so rarely was companionship or pleasant feelings for another ever eternal.

“Fuck you!” she cried, her body shaking either from fear or rage or a combination of the two. “I don’t care if you tear me apart! I don’t care if you send me to my second grave! No one, and I mean NO ONE, is ever going to hurt Vox again without facing ME! Not you! Not Val! NOBODY!”

She then paused and her eyes got wide once she realized what she had said. ‘Not Val’, she had said. What did she mean by that? Her rage was clear even while faced against the terrifying display of the Radio Demon’s true form. She was reckless and she was afraid, but despite that she was willing to go up against him when she thought he would try and hurt Vox. And now she had mentioned Valentino in that same breath. Had that insect hurt Vox?

The room darkened impossibly further, his shadow rearing up behind the woman, unbeknownst to her. It shot Alastor a warning look that he ignored. “Vox has been hurt?” he growled. “How? What did that wretch do?”

He thought of his fight with Vox all those years ago, the official end to their friendship. Alastor had told him that Valentino wasn’t the sort of man Vox thought he was. Alastor was no stranger to violence and treating one’s thralls as 'less than' but the brand of violence and punishment that Valentino dished out reminded him too much of the filth that Alastor hunted on the daily while still alive. The sorts of souls that deserved to be torn apart forever. Ainsley. Jude. His father.

Alastor always knew that Valentino didn’t deserve to live, even in Hell. But if he had done something to Vox…

“Fuck you, you selfish fuck!” hissed Velvette, who backed away several steps. “What do you care? You tried to kill him just a week ago!” Alastor flinched. “I should tie you up and peel your skin away with my needles for the shite you’ve put him through all these years! You and fucking Valentino, you pieces of-!”

There was a loud thump from outside Alastor’s door, snapping both of their heads towards it. Alastor’s shadow slithered across the room and flung the door open to reveal their unexpected eavesdropper.

Angel Dust lay sprawled on the floor with a terrified expression painted across his face.

Alastor was across the room in a flash as he took only two quacking steps while he was still in his large grotesque Demon form. Angel scrambled backwards on his hands. “Wait, wait, wait! Al! Hold on!”

Shadowy tentacles wrapped around his waist, pinning him to the spot and Alastor loomed over the spider. “If you so much as breath a word of what you heard here, I will tear you limb from limb!”

Angel reared back, quacking where he lay, nodding his head up and down frantically without so much as saying a word. That unpleasant feeling of guilt reared its ugly head once more at the look of Angel. He wasn’t the one that Alastor was truly angry at. But his rage was consuming him. After having his own territory encroached upon uninvited, having another Overlord clumsily try to blackmail him, and then she alluded to that wretched insect harming what’s his! Vox! His bloodlust was too strong and he had gone without hunting and tearing apart anyone for too long.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the doll slip past him, making her way down the hallway quickly without a word. Now that will not do.

Angel was released as Alastor stormed down the hallway, gaining on the other Overlord who noticed his approach and took off at a sprint. His blood was pumping, and he felt a thrill at giving chase.

‘And what will you do once you catch her?’ his shadow growled. ‘Kill her? Are you really going to let your bloodlust consume you to the point of such idiocy? Do you or do you not want to gain your television AND the abominations favor?’ it hissed forcefully.

That gave him pause, enough to allow the Overlord to slip further away and down the stairs to the front foyer where Charlie, Vaggie, Husk, and the blasted King were all gathered. Velvette’s harried entrance made Charlie rise up in concern trying to approach the other woman who brushed her off in annoyance. Velvette shot a glare over her shoulder at Alastor who loomed at the top of the stairs. The others all turned to look and saw him still half in his true Demon form. Despite himself, he shrunk down in shame at the look of disappointment Charlie shot him.

“Is everything alright?” she asked, looking between Velvette and Alastor.

There was a moment of the two Overlords staring at each other where Alastor was not sure if the other would tell Charlie about his “attempt” on Vox’s life. After several seconds the woman then shook her head and said, “Everything’s just fine. I thought your friend could help me but clearly, he can’t. I’m the idiot for thinking otherwise.”

She then turned and began walking towards the front door at a far more subdued pace. Charlie followed her and said, “Wait! If you need some sort of help, then maybe I could be of assistance. I’d love to-”

“Save it Princess,” Velvette said with her hand on the front door. She sounded almost…resigned. “No one can help me. This is something I’ve gotta do on my own.”

The slam of the door felt almost like the sound of a nail on a coffin, sealing one’s fate.

Regret then was the next unpleasant feeling that entered him. She had come here for help in killing Valentino, one of the Demon’s he despised most, and he had turned her away. Why? Because he feared that she had grand plans to eventually do Vox in too? The force behind her ire when she thought Alastor was threatening Vox spoke volumes. He might have feared she had designs to eventually kill Vox, but he didn’t think those concerns were warranted any longer.

Valentino had harmed Vox in some way. Of course he had. Even all those years ago Alastor thought it a possibility, no, an inevitability that he would. And yet he had still walked away and pushed Vox away. He told Vox not to come crawling back when it eventually happened because he didn’t care for Vox, he never had.

Even though Alastor’s wound was pracically healed now he felt a pang in his chest, making him clutch at his heart in pain.

‘Now it’s not just the Mistress and Lilith you have to worry about in relation to your Picture Box,’ hissed his shadow. It sounded like it almost sighed. ‘Are you sure the pathetic thing is worth all this trouble?’

Alastor twisted his clawed fingers into the fabric of his jacket over his heart in determination. Absolutely, he thought.

His shadow definitely sighed then. ‘Well then you better have that chat with Lilith. The sooner you get her on board with protecting the television, the sooner you can focus on the moth. He should be simple enough to crush beneath your boot.’ It twisted beneath him, staring up at him from where it lay on the step below him. ‘Just be careful. The First Man lingers close to him. He may appear like an idiot but he’s a more dangerous threat than you know. Believe me, you will do well not to underestimate him again.’

Alastor’s healed wound definitely ached in remembered pain at that.
________________________________________________________________________
“Mr. Augustin, allow me to introduce you to Detective Rene Taylor.”

The new man extended his hand and gave a bland smile. Alastor took it and said, “It’s a pleasure.”

“Oh no the pleasure is all mine, Mr. Augustin. I’m happy to be meeting you.” His voice was gruff and tone seemed to imply it was anything but a pleasure. The name niggled at the back of his mind but Alastor knew he had never met this man before.

“Is there somewhere private that we may talk?” asked Detective Castain.

Alastor looked over his shoulder and raised a single eyebrow. “As you can see, I am busy with many guests. There is unfortunately very little privacy to be had.”

“Perhaps a walk then?” asked Detective Taylor.

Alastor outright laughed at that. “You’re not very familiar with the bayou, are you Detective Taylor? There are many dangers in the swamp. One does not simply go for a stroll here.”

The detective hummed but his expression did not change. “And yet someone just happened upon your mother’s home, leaving no trace behind before they killed her.”

Alastor gritted his teeth and placed his hands behind his back, clasping them together to contain his anger. “So it would seem.”

“And they even took one of your mother’s boats, I’m told,” he continued, looking to his partner. “Isn’t that right, Castain?”

The man hummed. “Yes. Her boat was found at the dock back in town. Leading us to believe the killer took it.”

“How strange?” said Detective Taylor. “The killer was out for a ‘stroll’ in the swamp, no boat of his own, and then takes one of your mothers boats back to town, taking no belongings with him. Odd.”

Alastor internally cursed. He hadn’t thought about taking his mother’s boat back to her home, the one she used. He just took himself and her body back to her home in her second boat. He was too preoccupied with other things to think to rope it to his boat as he went back.

Alastor allowed himself to frown, feigning confusion and concern at hearing this news. He cocked his head to the side and said, “That is odd. What does that mean, detectives?”

“Well the leading theory is that she was killed elsewhere and her body was then brought back to her home before the killer then went back to town. It would explain the distinct lack of significant blood anywhere in her house. Especially with a slit throat,” said Detective Castain. “I don’t know if you are aware of this, but there is usually quite a bit of blood when something like that is done to a person.”

Alastor was more than aware but he couldn’t exactly say that. Instead, he allowed himself to swallow thickly under the impression that such a thing made him woozy. “I would imagine.”

“Didn’t you used to work for a butcher?” asked Detective Taylor, piercing him with his dark unblinking eyes.

This man had done his research. A cold sense of dread filled him. “Why yes, I did when I was much younger.” He cocked his head to the side and allowed some confusion to enter his tone. “How did you know that?”

“Your mother has died. We like to know everything we can about those close to the deceased,” said Detective Taylor.

Alastor furrowed his eyebrows. “Why? Am I under suspicion?”

The detective raised a single eyebrow. “Should you be?”

There was a low hiss in the back of his head that nearly made Alastor flinch. He hadn’t spoken to his shadow since his mother’s death, not trusting the wretched creature one bit. It was of course always still there and had made several attempts in the first few days at speaking to him but he had always done his best at ignoring it. The past couple of days, it had been silent. To have it make itself known now boded ill.

‘Careful, young one,’ it warned.

Alastor scowled and allowed some of his anger to seep out. Anyone being accused of murdering their own mother would certainly be angry. “Absolutely not. I loved my mother more than anything. I’d rather die myself than even think of harming her,” he growled.

Detective Taylor gave a false smile. “Of course. Everyone that seems to know you has said the same thing. Detective Castain has talked to many people who knew you and your mother. And all have said the same thing. You are the very picture of a doting son and she a doting mother. Which considering the circumstances is a good sign.”

True confusion entered Alastor. “Considering the circumstances?”

Detective Taylor nodded. “If you don’t mind me saying, I was rather shocked to find out that your own mother was a black woman. I know you’ve made a name for yourself in radio and through other means in the community. But most seem to be under the impression that your tanner skin is due to other blood. Only those close to you seem to know the true reason.” He looked over Alastor’s shoulder. “Well, and those that the public would deem less than desirable to interact with.”

He knew what the detective saw as he looked over his shoulder. A crowd of black men and women in the middle of celebrating a voodoo woman’s life with their voodoo rituals and practices. Alastor tilted his head down sltightly and glared at the other detective, giving off a dark look. While Detective Castain shifted on his feet, the older detective remained unfazed.

Alastor wanted this man gone. He didn’t like the way he talked about his mother and the people she saw as her community. Alastor may not participate in most of the same voodoo practices, but it was something that was dear to his mother. And he didn’t need some white detective looking down his nose at them or accusing Alastor of…what exactly?

“She was a black woman, yes, and she was my mother. The only real family I ever had; every other blood relation shunning her and myself. I would never have abandoned my mother when I became a man. Even if my skin tone would allow me to pass as white folk.” His tone was biting, and he purposefully allowed the slight accent he had masked mostly over the years to come out, making it clear where he stood on such sentiments.

Detective Taylor hummed. “I would agree. From all of the work Detective Castain has done, he has come to the same conclusion.”

Alastor curled his lip, his patience running thin. “It seems your partner is the one that has done all the work. What do you do exactly? Sit in your office all day?”

The detective then smiled. Not the same small false ones had given Alator thus far. He looked like he was pleased to have been asked. His shadow hissed in warning once more. “Oh, Detective Castain and I are not partners. We’ve worked together from time to time, like we are now. But I typically am given, how shall I say this, cases that are more prominent in the public eye.”

Alastor squeezed his hands behind his back tighter together. “Oh? Any I would have heard of?” he said nonchalantly. Blood was rushing to his ears.

“Most assuredly,” he still said with a smile. “One of your former friends was killed by the Smiling Killer, wasn’t he? A Mr. Ainsley.”

His heart dropped. He would kick himself if doing so wouldn’t give himself away. He knew this detective seemed familiar, both his name and face. He had been investigating the Smiling Killer for years now. Assigned to the case sometime after the fourth victim had been found. Alastor had been questioned by the police back when Ainsley turned up dead, of course he had, he inherited so much of his money and property. It would be ridiculous not to think he’d be a suspect. But he hadn’t spoken to the police in years. He had assumed they had turned to other leads once more as more seemingly unconnected victims cropped up.

And now, yet another victim had just surfaced that had a pretty clear connection to Alastor. He could practically feel the disapproval from his shadow.

“Why yes, he was,” he said, his voice cracking. There was a twinkle in Detective Taylor’s eyes, having caught that. Alastor cleared his throat and internally cursed.

“You know, the former lead on the case thought that you may have had something to do with the murder. Said you were a white boy who was jealous of a black man with so much wealth. Wanted it for yourself,” he gave out a small dry chuckle. “Didn’t look too much into things. Had no idea you were actually a black boy yourself. In either case, the former detective didn’t much care if you did it or not. Mr. Ainsley was known for some of his less-than-legal dealings. Thought it was a good thing he’d ended up dying. Said he wished he could have shaken your hand. Or, whoever had done the deed.” He tipped his head at the end, relenting when Alastor opened his mouth to argue.

Alastor shook his head and forced out a laugh. “You can’t be seriously implying I’m this Smiling Killer, are you?”

The detective shrugged and hummed. “I’m not quite sure. But it is a rather large coincidence that another prominent member in the community who has rather strong ties to you, we’ve been informed, would turn up dead with a bloody smile carved into his cheeks. And reportedly had died the same day as your mother.”

He knew who they were talking about but he couldn’t let them know he knew. He frowned even as his heart was pounding and his hands were sweating. “I don’t know who you’re talking about?”

Detective Taylor raised his eyebrows in false surprise. “Oh? Why you didn’t know your dear friend Father Boaz had become the latest victim of the Smiling Killer?”

‘Don’t you fuck this up,’ came this hiss.

Alastor thinks that all things considered he did a rather fine job at feigning shock and pain at the news. He was already on a razors edge, all he had to do was just let go of the tight reign he had on his bodily reactions and let his breaths come quicker and his hands to shake. He stumbled to the side, using a wooden post for balance and gasped out in disbelief. Some of his other guests noticed and came to his defense, including Mimzy who grabbed at his arm and shot him a very real look of concern. His other guests focused on the unwelcome visitors, creating space between Alastor and them.

“It’s ok, it’s ok,” he said, his voice wavering with little effort from himself. “They have just told me a dear friend has died.”

Mimzy stared wide eyed at him, immediately knowing who he meant but still asking, “Who?”

“Jude,” he said as he twisted his face up in pain. Mimzy’s gasp and hand over his mouth he thought was almost a little too fake but the tears that she forced out seemed believable enough. Now Alastor was even more glad that he had actually managed to tell her about Jude. And just in time too.

“No, Jude! I can’t believe this! What happened?” she cried.

“The Smiling Killer, apparently.” He shook his head and brought a hand to his forehead.

She gasped again. “That bastard! Will that no good murderer not rest? I know some people were sayin’ he’d gone of to fight in the war. He hasn’t killed no one for ages now. Thought he would have got shot and killed over seas but I guess not.”

“While that was a theory, ma’am, it had never been confirmed,” said Detective Taylor. “It would appear that is not the case.”

“Yeah but he did stop killin’ during the war,” she said. “He had to have been some soldier that got lucky and actually got to come home. A right shame when so many other innocent young men tragically died.”

Atta girl, Mimzy. Driving home the soldier theory wasn’t a bad idea. If this detective seemed to know as much as he seemed to about Alastor, then he would know that he didn’t serve in the war.

The detective hummed. “Perhaps,” he drawled. “But perhaps not. In either case, he is back and killing again. And the fact of the matter is that the killer has now killed two people that were notably close to you, Mr. Augustin.”

“Wait, you’re not implyin’ – HA ha ha ha ha! You gotta be kiddin’ me!” cried Mimzy. Detective Taylor finally looked irritated at that, at being literally laughed at to his face. Alastor internally smirked. He was more than aware of how irritating she could be. It was nice to have her “charm” turned on someone else. “Oh, Al here’s a kitten. He wouldn’t hurt a fly. And besides, Jude was a good friend of ours. It don’t make no sense why Al would do anything to him.”

“Usually, it’s those closest to us that commit such atrocities,” said Detective Castain.

“Well then ya better find someone who is close with all them victims. I have a feelin’ that’ll be pretty tough,” Mimzy said. She turned to Alastor who was bent over slightly, still feigning his panic over finding out the “news”. “Come on, Al. Let’s get ya inside with some water. We got ya.” His other guest began to follow suit, surrounding him and some even glaring at the detectives. Perhaps Mimzy was right, he had been a little overly critical of some of them over the years. He was surprised any had come to his defense outside of Mimzy.

The group turned to start their trek back to the house. Some had gathered on the front porch and were murmuring amongst themselves at the commotion. As he walked away Detective Taylor called out to him and said, “If you don’t mind, Mr. Augustin. I’d like to have a more in-depth conversation with you later about your dear friend Father Boaz.”

Alastor huffed but then put on a small smile once he turned around. “I’m sure we can arrange something later.”

“Splendid,” Detective Taylor said. “I’ll be in touch. I look forward to speaking with you further.”

Alastor couldn’t say the same.

His shadow shifted in the grass at his feet and growled in his mind. ‘Your arrogance and hubris have caught up with you, child. You must be exceedingly careful moving forward. Eliminate the threat.’

He paused at that. Eliminate. It meant kill the detective. He had never…contemplated killing a person that he didn’t already know had done dark deeds.

‘Now is not the time to worry about such inconsequential things,’ it growled. ‘Your freedom is at stake. If you were to be locked up, you would be worthless to the Mistress. She does not abide useless things.’

Alastor stepped up the short stairs to this mother’s front door, turning back to watch the detectives climb into their boat and unrope themselves from the dock, some of his guests still standing there on guard, ensuring they leave. Detective Taylor looked up, almost as if he could sense Alastor and stared back. A shiver ran down Alastor’s spine.

‘If it makes you feel any better, his soul is tainted. Tainted just enough too. He would go to Hell if he were to die right this moment,’ he almost purred. ‘Naughty, naughty. It appears he is a dirty cop.’

His shadow knew just what to say to ease some of his anxieties. But then again, that only made him worry more. It knew how to manipulate him. It knew him better than he knew himself. Every moment of every day, it was inside his head and could feel what he felt. Was his soul dark enough? Were any of his victim’s souls dark enough? Or had it simply said so in order to appease him? It growled.

He thought about that as he watched the detective’s row away before Mimzy finally pulled him inside.

He suddenly realized as his stomach twisted in anxiety that it might not matter. The detective suspected he was the Smiling Killer. And if he discovered the truth then it was all over. If Alastor could not deliver souls to the Mistress, what exactly would she do?
____________________________________________________________________
Velvette growled as she stomped through the doors into her studio. There were models and workers scattered throughout who froze and flinched as she stormed inside. “Out!” she shouted but everyone just stood there staring at her with wide eyes. She growled and shouted louder, “NOW!”

They all scurried as fast as they could towards the exit, pushing at one another, some even scrambling over those that had fallen without a care in an effort to get as far away from her wrath as quickly as possible. It made her frown harder. They were terrified of her. Terrified of what she would do to them. She owned their souls and was an Overlord, she reminded herself. Everyone feared Overlords and for good reason. Their fear was a good thing, of course it was.

Vox’s terrified face as he knelt at her feet, bloody and naked, flashed into her head. It made her flinch. He wasn’t terrified of her, but he was terrified of what her actions would mean for him. If she confronted Valentino, if she told anyone about what she had learned….fuck. Was that how all owned souls looked in relation to their owner?

A growl tore from her lips, and she kicked a table full of fabrics and needles onto the floor, it’s contents littering the floor. The small burst of violence didn’t make her feel any better, so she picked up a chair and threw it, the chair shattering and a sizable hole forming in the wall it struck. Still not enough. Another chair, another table. Mannequins made of clothe and plastic, reminiscent of her own body and skin, were torn to pieces but still it wasn’t enough. Her own works were torn to shreds, even the ones that were almost finished and ready for production. Nothing in her studio was safe against her rage.

And then she pushed a couch away from the wall with far more strength than one would believe could come from someone so small and made of such flimsy material. It struck another wall beside her with a loud crash, denting the wall, threatneing to go through it completely. But there, hiding behind the couch was revealed to be Melissa, cowering.

She was curled into a ball, shaking, with her arms wrapped around her legs tightly. Tears were streaming down her eyes in fear and she squeaked once the couch had been pulled away. Somehow she seemed to curl more into herself in an attempt to make herself smaller.

How many times had Valentino torn her apart? Just within the past year Velvette remembered three separate occasions. For whatever reason Valentino enjoyed ripping apart her employees, especially her models whenever he was in a rage. She had long since realized that he enjoyed tearing apart pretty things. She knew that now more than ever. And yet Velvette did nothing to stop him. Not with Melissa. Not with her other souls. Not even with Vox.

Velvette clenched her fists together in anger at herself. Melissa’s eyes noticed the motion and she began to shake even harder. “P-p-please,” she whimpered out. “Don’t h-h-hurt me.”

Velvette froze. She was so afraid. Terrified of Velvette. She was an Overlord, yes, but the look Melissa was giving her looked just like she did when she was confronted with Valentino. How everyone did when they were confronted with Valentino. Even Vox.

She stumbled back a couple of steps, putting distance between herself and the trembling woman. Some of the shaking seemed to subside due to the distance. Velvette stumbled over to the couch she had pushed away and sat down heavily onto the drywall covered cushions. She bent forward and stared down at her feet, putting her face into one hand.

“Go,” she said in a far quieter voice than the one she used to scream at her other thralls. Out of the corner of her eye she saw that Melissa still hesitated. “I’m not going to hurt you. Just go.”

Slowly Melissa got up from the ground and inched her way past Velvette, all the while keeping a watchful eye on her. Velvette didn’t look up and allowed the woman to then run out of the studio once she had felt she got to a safe enough distance to do so. Velvette sighed when she heard the door slam behind her and Velvette leaned back and stared up at the ceiling.

What an idiot. What did she think was going to happen when she went to the fucking hotel? That Alator, the Radio Demon, would agree to help her just like that? He had accused her of trying to fucking ladder climb of all things. That she wanted to not just kill Valentino but Vox too. It enraged her and she let her temper get the best of her. It made her slip that Valentino had hurt Vox. It made her fucking contemplate telling Alastor the truth. Telling him not just what Valentino had done to Vox, but that Vox had sold his soul.

The devastated expression he wore as he begged her not to confront Valentino was one she never wanted to see ever again. And she knew he’d look even worse if he found out she had betrayed his trust. Of course he would, he had sold his soul to Valentino at one point. She didn’t know his reasoning for doing so but she knew how Valentino worked. She knew how he trapped people into soul contracts. He was sweet and caring and all the things someone was missing in their life and was desperate to have. He made them desperate for his love and trust him completely. And then once he had the chain around their neck, he took twisted pleasure in pulling the rug out from beneath them. He betrayed them so completely every time. And Velvette had almost done the same to Vox.

Some friend she was.

And the kicker was Valentino wasn’t even the first to do so to Vox. Alastor had betrayed him. Seems like that damn Cannibal Queen had maybe even done the same from the way she spoke of friendship between her, Vox, and Alastor. Who else had betrayed Vox in his past?

No, Velvette couldn’t abide by being amongst those numbers. She’d just have to find another way to go about killing Valentino once and for all. If Alastor’s bloodlust and hatred of the pimp wasn’t enough to earn her help then fine, she’d do it on her own. She just needed to get her hands on a damn angelic weapon.

Fuucckkk! If only Velvette’s hot temper hadn’t gotten the best of her with every Goddamned interaction she had with that stupid bitch Carmine. But there was just something about her no-nonsense, archaic, cowardly way of doing things that rubbed Velvette the wrong way. Not to mention she always acted as if she was better than all the rest, besides Zestial. But that meant there was zero chance the other Overlord would hand over any sort of weapon to her. And that’s even without the Queen deciding to limit who Carmine was giving weapons to and telling all Overlord’s to put a stop to killing and fighting with each other.

She knew Valentino had an angelic gun or two, but he always kept them under lock and key. She could try and steal one from him but that was incredibly risky. If she got caught, she was fucked and would surely put Vox in an even worse position.

That left trying to find a weapon on the black market. It would be expensive, even more so than if she bought it from Carmine, but it’s not like she wasn’t loaded. She just needed to ensure that whoever she got the weapon from would stay quiet. And she hoped that the Queen hadn’t already started taking steps to crack down on such things.

A knock was heard at the studio door. She huffed in annoyance and yelled out at whoever dared disturb, “Go away!”

She heard the door open and she growled, pushing herself to her feet and yelled, “I said, leave me the FUCK al-” She stopped in her trek towards the door when she saw the Sinner at her door was Angel Dust of all Demons.

“Uhh, I hope I’m not interruptin’ ya,” he said with weary eyes cast around the destroyed room. She supposed the sight was similar for him, it was just in a different environment. Valentino had destroyed his fair share of his own working space. Velvette might be known for her own hot temper, all of the Vee’s were, but Velvette and Vox didn’t tend to destroy all of their hard work in a fit of rage. It was too costly.

“A bit,” she said. She crossed her arms and cocked her hip to the side. “What the Hell are you doing here?” She narrowed her eyes at him in suspicion. Alastor had done his fair share of intimidating the spider to keep quiet. She had thought that would be enough but now she wondered if she needed to do the same.

The only problem was that if she hurt or killed the Demon, even if only temporary, she was sure to draw the ire and attention of Valentino which is the LAST thing she wanted right now. If Alastor tore apart Angel Dust, then that was different. He wasn’t another Vee. Besides, if Alastor drew Valentino into a fight, well, that would suit Velvette’s needs just fine. But if she needed to slap Angel around then she would.

Angel closed the door behind him and walked into her territory, making Velvette fume even more. “I just wanna talk, is all.”

“About what, exactly?” she said in a clipped tone. Of course she knew what. She had only just left the hotel. The spider had to have followed her.

“You know what,” he said casually. Oh, she hated that tone. If this idiot so much as tried to extort her she would NOT hesitate to tear off a limb or two. It would be pay back for all the times Valentino had torn Melissa apart.

“You’re walking on dangerous ground,” she said, her voice dropping dangerously low. “I would tread carefully.”

Angel paused but only briefly. He seemed to steel himself before he kept walking further into her studio. “I ain’t here to cause any trouble. I’m here as a friend.”

Velvette snorted and raised a single eyebrow. “Friend?”

Angel raised a hand and twirled it around. “Ally, I guess.”

She hummed, curious despite herself. “And how exactly can you help me?”

Angel finally stopped before her, towering several feet above her. Damn, he was tall, but not as tall as Valentino. If he was trying to intimidate her then he was a bigger idiot than she thought. She could rip him to shreds without even breaking a sweat. But she looked at his face and he didn’t look aggressive. Nor victorious like he had something he could use over her head, which he did. He looked open and almost…hopeful. But he was trying to hide it. Until now he had been doing a good job but this close, he was practically buzzing in anticipation.

“Look,” he finally began after a deep sigh. “I know you know I heard everything back at the hotel.” She tensed but he hastened to add. “And even before Alastor tried freakin’ me out with his creepy Radio Demon shtick, I already knew I wasn’t gonna tell nobody. Cross my heart and hope to die.” He blinked. “You know, a second time.”

Velvette glared at him. “Yeah? And why should I believe you?” For all she knew, he was here to get more information that he would then take to Valentino in the hopes of gaining favor. Maybe try and get out of his deal.

“And what about you?” he countered. “Why should anyone believe you wanted to kill your own business partner? You can’t want to do that for no reason.” Velvette bristled, knowing now how foolish it was to demand help in this when she seemingly was good friends with Valentino to the public. It of course looked like it could be a trap. Or like just a greedy Overlord trying to make their way to the top. Of course it did, that's why Alastor accused her of such. And why would someone help another with that?

Angel leaned down close to her. She leaned back as he got close to her personal space but she paused when she saw his eyes were wide and beseeching. “But it’s ok. I know the reason,” he practically whispered, like he was telling a secret. Which he was if he was telling the truth. She froze and fear lanced through her. Fuck, she said to much in her conversation with Alastor. She'd alluded to Val hurting Vox.

“It’s ok though,” he said in that same quiet voice. “I won’t tell nobody.”

He then stood back up to his full height, the motion almost dizzying to Velvette with how quick he pulled up and away. He turned around and walked towards the same couch she sat on earlier. One set of arms was wrapped around him. He brushed some of the drywall away before taking a seat. His lower set of arms rubbed nervously at his legs and the couch, and he didn’t meet her eyes. He looked far less confident than he had been before.

He sighed. “I’ve known Val for a long time. A very long time. I met him during that first year he was in Hell. He may have been a newcomer without much power, but he had a suave confidence about him. He was charming and handsome, and it was easy to like him. I thought I was doing him a favor, being downright selfless by strikin’ up a friendship with him and “showing him the ropes”,” he said with finger air quotes. “I had no idea how much he was just manipulatin’ me and usin’ me.” He gave out a bitter laugh. “How stupid of me. This is Hell afterall. You don’t just wind up here for nothin’.”

He shook his head and leaned back against the couch while his upper arms tightened further. “He was good with business. Or at least with pimpin’. He took care of those who got too rough with me and would always be real sweet afterwards, makin’ sure any injuries were takin’ care of and he’d shower me in love. It made signin’ that contract real easy when he eventually asked me. Any doubts I had he made them seem inconsequential and like I’d be an idiot not to sign.” Angel sneered down at his knees. “Boy was I wrong.”

Velvette already knew all that. She knew how Valentino got those under his control. She didn’t want to hear his sob story even as she felt a slight pang in her stomach at how familiar certain aspects were. It reminded her of her best friend and the bastard who murdered her. She told herself not to feel sympathy for the spider for she needed to focus on Vox.

“I still remember when Vox showed up,” he continued, snapping Velvette’s attention back to him. “Val was enamored right away. I hate to admit it but back then I still felt somethin’ for Val and felt resentful towards Vox for being Val’s latest obsession.” Velvette bristled. “I was pretty rude towards him at the start, but I soon realized that Vox didn’t much care for Valentino. At least not in that way. He had…otha interests.” Velvette could more than guess what, or rather who, he was referring to. “Pissed Val right off that he didn’ have all his attention. So it made him just try to win him over harda. Made him take his anger out on me harda too,” he said softly. “Sometime around then is when the spell broke for me. Took me way longa than I’d like to admit but at least I got there I guess.”

Velvette walked slowly over as she listened. She didn’t know why she was letting him tell his damn story. Was she hoping that by understanding Angel’s story she’d understand Vox’s own position more? Was she listening because she wanted to know how someone could finally break from that spell, wishing the same had happened for her Ashley? She sat down and didn’t interrupt.

“It was like I could see everythin’ clearly then,” he said, still not looking at her while her own gaze was fixated on him. “All the manipulations and lies. All the false promises and love bombing. It was all to get me to trust him just so he could control me. I felt like an idiot that even after all the beatin’s and times he raped me,” his voice quivered then. “I still had fooled myself into thinkin’ he loved me.” Angel swiped hastily at a couple of tears that escaped his eyes and Velvette finally felt like she had to turn away.

Once he got himself under control he continued. “I could see then, sometime after the massive falling out between Vox and Alastor, that Val was doing the same thing with Vox.” Velvette fisted her hand in the fabric of the couch, tearing at it. “And he was fallin’ for it too, but I told myself that he was an Overlord, he could take care of himself. And then years went by and they made their partnership official, both in business and romantically. And I resented him again.” Velvette frowned and the cushion tore further. “What made him so special that Valentino would decide to be with him in every way that I had once wanted? What made him so special that he didn’t get slapped or hit or fucked when he didn’t wa-”

“ENOUGH!” shouted Velvette. She turned and shot daggers at the audacious Demon and him talking about Vox in such a way. Instead of looking afraid in the face of an angry Overlord, Angel looked sympathetic. Velvette realized her mistake immediately. “Vox isn’t like you.” Angel didn’t look convinced. “He’s not!” she insisted. “He’s a strong Overlord not some, some whore-”

“You think I wanted to be like this?!” cried Angel. “You think I want to fuck every John or Jane, he tells me to? Fuck or get fucked by HIM whenever he tells me to? HELL no!” he yelled right into her face without any fear. “It ain’t got nothin’ to do with strength neitha. Or smarts. Even the strongest or smartest Demon can fall victim to Valentino. Even Vox.”

Velvette was seething and fear was cloying at her throat. He knows. He knows! But then some of the fight drained out of her as she knew he was right. It had nothing to do with how strong or smart the person was. That was an insult to Vox and Ashley for thinking like that.

Some of the rage seemed to seep out of Angel too, who leaned back in the couch and sighed. “All it has to do with is Val and how shitty but convincing he can be. It ain’t anyone’s fault but his. Not even Vox’s even when I wanted it to be.” He gave a deep sigh. “I hated him for years. Thought he had to be just as bad as Valentino if he could be in a partnership and relationship with the guy for as long as he had without fallin’ victim to him. I convinced myself that he was nothin’ but an Overlord bastard and any cracked screen I might have seen or disheveled appearance after bein’ locked in a room with Val meant nothin’. And if it did, then he deserved it, right?”

Velvette growled but Angel scoffed. “Stop that. I just told ya, Val’s an expert at manipulatin’. He’s great at turnin’ those he hurts against each other and makin’ them jealous or resentful of the other. Unfortunately, that revelation took even longer to reach than the other.”

Angel ran a hand through the fluff of his head, causing the fur to stick up at an odd angle. He took a deep sigh that he let out in a loud breathe of air. Finally, he said in a quiet tone, “Val owns his soul too, don’t he?”

Velvette finally stood up before Angel, looming into his space. She barely came eye-to-eye with him even as he still sat. “You don’t know a single thing you’re talking about,” she said slowly and threateningly.

Angel’s eyes turned sad. “Damn,” he said in a broken whisper. “Even after hatin’ him for all these years, thinkin’ he was above it all somehow, I never truly wished for him to be in the same boat as me.”

Suddenly, thread wrapped around Angel, pulling his arms tight to his body. “What the?” he cried out in alarm. Velvette watched him as he tried to struggle, and a couple threads snapped but more replaced it, wrapping around his wrists and ankles and arms, trapping him in his seat. He then looked up towards her and fear finally entered his eyes as her body contorted and grew slightly, her joints snapping at odd angles due to the doll like sockets. Her teeth shifted and grew in length while their width shrunk, several more punching through her gums and growing to form a horrifying display of a forest of needles in her mouth. Her eyes turned to black voids like a doll with its eyes popped out, vacant sockets left behind. Her nails turned to sharp and short claws that she used to control the thread like a puppeteer and her marionette. She may look like the doll, but she was anything but; her victims turning into the doll.

“You come here, weaving this story like the little spider you are,” she growled. “Trying to paint one of the Vee’s as this victim on a chain. You think the rest of Hell would believe a Sinner like you over Vox, one of the most powerful Demons in Hell? There isn’t a soul that would believe a whore like you!” she yelled and felt satisfaction when she felt him tremble through her thread. “What did you hope to gain out of all this? Hhm? Did you really think I wouldn’t kill you for spreading such lies? I will squash you like the tiny little bug you are!”

“No, wait, wait, wait! I already told ya I won’t tell nobody!” he cried as he continued to fight against his bindings but her overlapping threads were too strong. “I want to help ya get rid of Val!”

She barked out a bitter laugh. “How could you ever help me?” she growled.

“My left pocket! Look in my left pocket!” he shouted. “I was goin’ to give it to ya!”

Curiously she moved her threads to position his hands above his head and away from his sides, giving her access to his pocket. She reached inside and felt…the fuck?

She pulled out a knife. An angelic knife.

“Carmine gave the hotel a whole boat load of weapons for the extermination. We still have some of them because Charlie was worried for all of us,” he said as his chest was heaving. “Wanted all of us to be protected and armed with somethin’.”

Velvette stared at the knife, skeptical about its authenticity. She brought her thumb to the tip and felt it prick it with its incredible sharpness. She hissed and pulled her finger away, a bead of blood sitting on her thumb. She licked it away and another bead of blood took its place. It wasn’t healing. A prick this small would heal in nearly an instant, especially for an Overlord. It was real.

Velvette allowed her form to slowly return to normal and her threads to retract from Angel who gave out a sigh of relief. He brought a shaking hand to his chest. “Damn. Really thought ya were gonna kill me there a sec.” He nervously laughed.

“I thought so too,” she said absentmindedly as she still stared down at the knife. “You’re giving this to me?” she asked in bewilderment.

“I mean, I’d like it back once ya know, the deed is done,” he said anxiously. “But uh, if ya never give it back it’s a loss I can abide in exchange for bein’ free.”

Of course. Velvette may be a genius but even she could be an idiot at times. Angel would want to be free from Valentino just as much as Vox, if not more. He’d been tied to Valentino for even longer than Vox, if his story is to be believed, and why wouldn’t it be true? It would make far more sense he’d come here to help Velvette get rid of Valentino rather than come here to blackmail her or whatever asinine thought she had.

She looked up and stared at the spider who sat there fretfully, his eyes shooting away from her over and over, not able to meet her eyes for long. He was doing an admirable job but the slight shaking of his hands gave away the fear he still felt. He had probably been afraid since before he even walked through the door, being so brazen in approaching an Overlord like this.

Fuck, he reminded her of Ashley. And Melissa. And so many of her own thralls. What would Ashley think if she could see her now? She suddenly felt guilty, and she hated it. It wasn’t an uncommon feeling whenever she thought of Valentino or witnessed the things he did all the while she did nothing. She was tired of doing nothing. And she was even more tired of copying the shit Valentino did.

“Thanks,” she said weakly. “For the knife. And I’m, uh, sorry about scaring you shitless.” God, did that sound lame or what? Try and sound a little more genuine, she thought to herself.

Angel laughed nervously. “It’s fine, I guess.” He rubbed his lowers arms together. “What's anotha Overlord scaring me shitless today?" His weak smile wavered and turned more into a grimace as it fell. He gulp and said, "Just, ya know, if Val asks, the knife-”

“I didn’t get it from you,” she said with a nod. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone. Just you don’t tell anyone about this either. None of it,” she emphasized.

He nodded vigorously and mimed zipping his lips. “Lips sealed.” Velvette relaxed at the promise.

Angel awkwardly got to his feet and indicated towards the door and stated he was going to go now. She just nodded, not knowing what to say. Right before Angel walked out the door he paused.

“And hey,” he said hesitantly. “I know me and Vox ain’t really ever seen eye-to-eye or ever really liked each other because of…the obvious. But once we’re both free, let him know that if he ever wants to talk to someone, someone who gets it. Well…I don’t have plans on leavin’ the hotel anytime soon. So he knows where to find me.”

Velvette snorted. Wouldn’t that be a sight to see. Vox and Angel Dust of all people, chatting and bonding over their shared trauma. She doubted Vox would go for it but then again, who knew what would happen if, no WHEN, they found themselves in a new-and-improved Hell without the existence of Valentino.

Now, she just needed to figure out how to kill him quickly and without giving him any chance of fighting back.

Notes:

In 1918:
Alastor is 28

Historical or regular facts for this chapter:

Voodoo death rituals involve releasing the soul of the deceased from the body. They believe that the soul lingers around the body for approximately a week after death and there are rituals to guide the soul of the deceased to the ancestral realm and to ensure their peaceful transition. If the rituals are not performed, the soul is believed to be lost and will not reach the ancestral realm. There are practices that consist of several days worth of celebrating for the funeral that involve song, dance, food, and prayer. (I am not practicing Voodoo so I don't know how accurate all this is besides my research on Google. This is why I didn't get too much into things besides a vague allusion to things)

The name Rene means "reborn" or "reborn again". It is French in origin.

 

I'll be honest, I for whatever reason never thought of having a serial killer/cop subplot until writing this chapter. Which I'm very thankful for. Because I didn't have much planned for Alastor's backstory for a good chunk of time until Grace gets older and I thought that was a disservice to him but then I started writing and I was like, man, obviously police would suspect him at this point. He not only was connected to Mr. Ainsly but Jude? And he inherited all of Ainsley's money and estates. Obviously he would be prime suspect number one especially since he had no blood relation. But then a priest who very publicly made it known on a radio show (Alastor's radio show no less) that he was more-or-less in support of the vigilante pursuits of the Smiling Killer. And then they are very publicly good friends (employees and regulars at the Alligtor club would know this and all the other volunteers and regulars at the church too)? Yeah, that's one Hell of a coincidence. I was like, duh, clearly Alastor would be a suspect at this point. And then I thought about his mother's death and all the suspicions of trying to cover that up and it being the same day that her death would have occurred with Jude and was like damn, the cops gotta be all over that! I have a vague outline of what I want to have happen with Detective Taylor. I think it should be interesting.

Also, we are getting more or less somewhere with general plans and thoughts to kill Valentino! Alastor finally suspects something and Velvette has a means to carry it out! ANNNDD Angel knows shit too. Hope y'all like it!

As always, stay tuned until next chapter!

Chapter 22: A Mother, a Mother, and a Woman Who Simply Gave Birth

Summary:

It's 1936 and it's Olivia's funeral. A terrible discovery is had.

In the present, Vox and Rosie have an unplanned tea party. And then Alastor and his shadow finally confront Lilith and hers.

Notes:

Well damn, look at that. It's been a little over a year since I started this story and I'm not even close to the end of this series. I never imagined this story would get this sort of attention, let alone that this would turn into one giant idea that grew and grew and became a full blown series in my mind. It consumes so much of my thoughts and I love writing for this story and love seeing people's responses. Thanks so much to everyone's continued support and interest. It means a lot and I hope you all enjoy the latest chapter!

TW for this chapter: canon typical violence

1936

Xavier sat between his mother and Grace in the church pews. There was a large crowd behind them that let out the occasional sniffle. Father Michael stood before them, droning on about some bible verse that Xavier couldn’t be bothered to listen to.

He stared at the closed casket and large portrait that was displayed beside it. His mother had insisted on getting a casket despite the exuberant price and fact that it would be empty. The sanitarium had cremated Olivia, as they do with all of those who pass away within its halls. They said it was more sanitary, the best way to prevent the disease from spreading further. This would be the second time that he had to bury an empty casket. At least they had Olivia’s ashes that could be placed in the grave.

The service was brought to a close and the guests either filed out of the church or came to give their condolences to Xavier and his mother. He absentmindedly shook people’s hands, not really hearing the words of sorrow they spoke. He just watched as the empty casket was moved from its perch and carried outside. Without a word, he followed.

Grace trailed behind him, his constant shadow since she had arrived in Mississippi. She had to cut the filming in Washington short, telling the director that if he wanted to replace her, she didn’t give a shit but she was damn well leaving. She had simply brought Xavier into a bone crushing hug as soon as she stepped off the train she had arrived in.

They watched together as the casket was lowered into the grave. The urn was placed on top. Heaps of dirt were then thrown on top and he tensed up. Grace squeezed the hand she had ahold of and hugged his arm with her other hand. They stood there for several minutes, watching, before Grace spoke. “Xavier,” she said softly. “It’s time to go.” He turned his head and saw that his mother was waiting patiently by her car for them. What restraint, he thought. She wasn’t even tapping her foot in agitation or anything.

Xavier and Grace made their way over to her and got inside the vehicle without a word, his mother following suit. When he first arrived, he was nervous to see his mother driving. He still wasn’t quite sure when she got a car or when she learned to drive. But he didn’t have the energy to question her.

The drive to his mother’s house was short. The house had never been far from the church, the family having walked to-and-fro every Sunday morning when Xavier was growing up. Now that his mother had a car, the journey was exponentially shorter. Guests were already there, making their way inside even with the family not at home. It was one of the things about small towns that he had almost forgotten about, people just letting themselves in and having doors always unlocked. He would never dream of doing such a thing in New York City or LA.

They made their way inside where guests from the funeral all greeted them. He couldn’t stand all of the sympathetic looks and words, so he made his way quickly to the kitchen. There were several dishes on the counters that guests had brought that he began preparing to be served. He opened the cabinets and got out dishes and silverware for everyone to eat. He noted idly that all the dishes and silverware were new, things he didn’t remember from his childhood. Grace came up behind him and took the dishes from him to take to the living room, breaking him from his thoughts.

Guest after guest helped themselves to the food in-between them coming up to Xavier or his mother and telling them how sorry they were for their loss. He simply nodded as he sat on the expensive looking couch and stared vacantly forward. All the while, Grace sat by his side. Not once did anyone tell her the same thing. How rude, he thought. She loved Olivia more than his mother ever had and yet his mother was the one receiving all the condolences.

“Hey,” whispered Grace after one guest walked away who had been particularly talkative about how ‘tragic it was that such a young woman had died, especially since she never even had a chance to get married. And she was such a beauty too’. He didn’t even turn towards Grace and just hummed. “Let’s go somewhere where we can get some peace and quiet for a little bit. How does that sound?” Her hand was in his again, soft and warm and grounding. He gave it a gentle squeeze. “That sounds nice,” he said.

The two got to their feet and Xavier led Grace upstairs. The two of them had been staying in Victor’s old bedroom that had been converted into a guest bedroom with an entire new bed. The sheets were silk. Nicer than their own sheets back home. He thought of stepping into the bedroom, but he bypassed it, walking to the middle of the hallway.

Above him was the short string attached to the attic door. He no longer had to stand on a step stool or jump up to try and grab it. He was more than tall enough now to just reach up and grab the string to pull down the stairs. Those same rickety old stairs dropped down to reveal the dark entrance to what was once his safe haven as a child.

“Xavier?”

He jumped slightly. He hadn’t realized it, but he had been just standing there for several moments staring at the entrance. He cleared his throat and looked sheepishly at Grace. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Come on.”

He helped Grace up the creaking steps. He’d never climbed up them as a grown adult and they seemed far more precarious now. The steps could more than sustain a small child’s weight but an adults? He wasn’t so confident. Yet they only groaned as the two climbed up and into the dark attic.

There were far more boxes in the attic now, piled on top of each other and shoved against the walls. Was that their old couch? And beside it was their old China cabinet. Now that he noticed it, he realized that the one downstairs was newer with dark mahogany wood. There were old paintings that once hung in their living room behind the old China cabinet. He knew that there were still paintings hung up though. He hadn’t been paying attention enough and wondered what was hung up downstairs now.

“Wow. Look at this.”

Xavier turned to Grace who was crouched down and whipped away the dust that had accumulated on a large picture frame. It was the last family photo they took together. Back when Victor was still alive. Xavier crouched down next to her and stared.

He hadn’t seen a picture of his brother in almost two decades now. He’d almost forgotten what he looked like. But there he was with those same high cheekbones and black hair that was so familiar. His eyes were blue too, just like Xavier’s, but the shade was darker, more vibrant than his own. And his smile, it looked so…genuine. Carefree despite the unhappy home he grew up in. How did he manage it? To look so happy. In comparison, his own smile and Olivia’s looked forced, strained even. Made sense though. He stared at the firm hand that was clasped on his shoulder in the photo. His father stood directly behind the young Xavier, his face stern and lacking any pretense of a smile. His mother’s own face lacked a smile as well from where she stood behind Olivia. But then again, she never smiled. He didn’t think he’d ever once seen the woman so much as twitch the corners of her mouth upwards.

“That’s Victor then?” asked Grace.

He nodded. “This was taken a couple months before he left for the war.”

“He looks so young,” she said softly. His heart ached. Victor WAS young, little more than a child when he left.

“And your father,” Grace said. Her fingers brushed over his father’s stern face. “You look so much like him.”

He frowned as he looked at him. She was right. Somewhere over the years Xavier had grown to look so much like him. On some level he always knew that he and his siblings had taken after him in looks but staring at this old photo now made it even more obvious. Same hair. Same eyes. Same face. It seemed that Xavier had even inherited the same concerning lack of a smile.

“Hey.” Grace touched his arm, drawing his attention. She was looking at him with a kind and gentle expression. “I don’t mean that as a bad thing. My brother looked a lot like our father too. He hated it, but just because he inherited his looks doesn’t mean he was anything like our father. It doesn’t mean you’re anything like your own father too.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.” He turned back to the photo. “I’m assuming your own father was a bit of a bastard too then?”

He felt Grace shrug from where their shoulders brushed. “From what I hear. I never knew the man. He died when I was very young. I don’t have any memories of him but from what I know about him…yeah, he sounded like a bit of a bastard.” Her voice sounded strained. He could understand that. It’s not like he enjoyed talking about his own father.

Xavier gently bumped their shoulders together. “Not as good as Chuck, huh?”

That earned him a small chuckle. “Yeah. Definitely not.”

They then lapsed into silence as they stared at the once intact family. They were never truly happy but at least his siblings were still alive then. The cheery and hopeful Victor. The headstrong and ambitious Olivia. Both taken far too early.

“We used to come up here all the time,” he began. He looked around the dusty attic. “It was our retreat away from our parents.” He noticed their chest full of old clothing that they used to dress up in pushed up against a wall. On top was a familiar radio. Xavier got to his feet and walked over to it, brushing his fingers over the top of it, leaving a trail behind where his fingers pushed the dust away. “We used to listen to this thing all the time.” He chuckled lightly. “To your brothers show of all things. We loved his little stories he’d tell. There was this one about some sheriff that we liked. I remember how Olivia and Victor would get dressed up in these silly costumes and act out the roles for me. Let’s just say, Olivia’s acting greatly improved over the years.”

Grace laughed. “She didn’t have the makings of a great child actor?”

Xavier snorted. “Definitely not. But Victor always said she did. Said she was made for the stage! Seems he was right about at least one thing,” he said as his voice turned bitter. Victor had said that he and Olivia would never leave Xavier too but look at how that turned out.

Xavier kept running his hand over the radio, remembering all the stories that they would listen to. He turned the dial, switching it on. Static came through the speakers, crackling. He twisted one of the other dials to try and find a station. The sounds of a trumpet filled the quiet attic accompanied by the sounds of a guitar. Xavier faintly smiled. “It still works.” Xavier could almost hear Victor’s voice in his head chastising him and saying of course it worked; his brother fixed it and was a genius after all.

He felt a tap on his shoulder. Xavier looked behind him and saw Grace giving him a smile with her hand extended towards him. “May I have this dance?”

Xavier smiled back. “I’d be delighted, madam.”

The two began to sway gently back and forth and fall into a simple dance, weaving in-between the boxes and furniture that cluttered the attic.

“Alone, alone with a sky of romance above. Alone, alone on a night that was meant for love,” came the voice from the radio. “There must be someone waiting who feels the way I do. Whoever you are, are you, are you alone, alone on this night that we two could share.” Xavier’s heart ached at the words. Grace leaned her head against his shoulder as they continued to glide across their own personal dance floor. The trumpet continued in its soothing melody even after the man finished singing, “Alone, alone with a heart meant for you alone.” The music finally came to a close and the radio host proclaimed the song was “Alone, by the Tommy Dorsey Orchestra.”

Xavier gave a contemplative hum.

“What is it?” asked Grace.

“The host isn’t as good as your brother,” he said.

Grace laughed and lifted her head from his shoulder to look at him. “What? Why?”

“Not as much pizzazz.”

Grace snorted. “All he did was say what song it was.”

“I know. And that was it. Like I said, no pizzazz.” He let go of Grace’s hand that he still had ahold of for the dance and shook it back and forth as if the gesture was all he needed to show what he meant by ‘pizzazz’.

Grace laughed again and shook her head. “Oh lord. Thank God you two never met. You would have stroked his ego WAY too much. He would have been insufferable.”

Xavier smiled. “Don’t worry. I’m sure Olivia would have balanced things out with her critique of every little thing from his show. Half the time you never would have known she was a fan too by the way she would pick every little thing apart when we’d listen to him.”

“Oh God. That would have just made him even MORE insufferable! He would have found her critique funny and said she had no taste. He would have loved to tease her. And she him. They’d have been so irritating together.”

Xavier laughed. “Well now I’m truly sad they never got to meet.” His smile then fell slightly, his face turning melancholic. Graces did the same.

“Yeah. Me too,” she said.

The two fell into silence, the only sound being the radio as it played the sounds of the next song. In the distance, they could hear sounds of the reception going on downstairs. “We should probably get back,” he said softly, regretfully. Grace sighed but nodded. It was clear that she too didn’t want to go back and deal with all the guests who pretended to care but didn’t really know Olivia in the first place. But he didn’t want to have to deal with his mother’s passive aggressive comments later about having been abandoned.

With reluctance, they turned off the radio and went back downstairs, leaving their safe haven.

The reception seemed to drag on with no end in sight. Guest after guest spoke with them, all saying the same thing without any real meaning behind them. Grace managed to escape to go and help clean up the kitchen as guests had started to slowly leave. Xavier found himself stuck talking to his old neighbors who finally were pulled away once another guest came up to shake Xavier’s hand.

It was the head doctor from the sanitarium. Xavier blinked in surprise. “Doctor Miller. I’m surprised you made it all the way out here for the funeral.”

“It’s really no bother,” said Doctor Miller. “I have some family in Hattiesburg. I thought it was the perfect excuse to make the trip to see them so I could attend your sister’s funeral. She truly was a real gem. I don’t know if it’s unethical to say, but she really was one of my favorite patients. Even in the face of such a harrowing disease she always managed to make me, and others, laugh with her wit.”

Xavier gave a weak smile. “That was Olivia.”

“I’m sure you’ve heard it plenty of times by now, but it truly is a tragedy losing her.” Xavier gave a stilted nod in thanks. “I’ve been trying to advocate to get funding from the state for our surgeries for some time now because I know how hard it is for everyone in this day-in-age to afford them, let alone food. Seems that celebrities like yourself aren’t even exempt!”

Xavier furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “I’m not quite sure what you mean.”

The doctor frowned slightly. “I’m not trying to imply anything. I’m sure you’re doing fine, at least comparatively speaking when it comes to everyone else. But this depression sure has affected everyone though. Too many people have died due to not being able to get the proper care they need.”

Xavier shook his head. “Yes, but that’s not the case for Olivia. I paid for her care at your sanitarium.”

The doctor nodded slowly. “Sure. And that covers the normal sort of care. But that doesn’t cover the cost of additional surgeries.”

A pit was starting to form in his stomach. He shook his head again. “Yes, I know. But I sent my mother more money to cover the cost of any surgery Olivia needed.”

The doctor was full on frowning now. “Your mother said that you two couldn’t afford to pay for any surgery. Perhaps the money you sent she used to pay for her normal care? Maybe you were just confused by what our normal price is. I know it’s a lot but it’s necessary to pay for supplies and our staff. Our nurses are some of the best in the nation.”

“I know that,” said Xavier in a clipped tone. “That’s why I sent her to your hospital.” He took a deep breath in order to calm himself. In a quieter voice he said, “I know the cost of having someone be a patient at your hospital. And I know the cost of the surgeries as well. I sent all of it to my mother for her to pay for everything.”

Doctor Miller stared at him with a confused expression. “But Olivia even said that times were hard for you. She seemed to be under the impression too that you couldn’t afford the surgeries.”

“Where the Hell did she get that idea?” he barked out. A couple other guests turned to look at him and the doctor.

Doctor Miller flinched back and then scowled slightly at having been shouted at. “I believe your mother,” he said in a clipped tone. Xavier was beginning to feel hot and there was a faint ringing in his ears.

Doctor Miller adjusted his jacket and sighed, his features softening. “Look. I understand that this must be a very difficult time for you. Losing a loved one is never easy. And sometimes grief can make things seem jumbled in our minds. I know that it can be hard to accept someone’s death and sometimes people try to find someone to lay blame on when most deaths are unfortunate tragedies that no one could have prevented. I know you wish you could have afforded her surgeries, but we are in a depression. It’s not your fault that you couldn’t afford it.” The doctor placed a hand on Xavier’s shoulder in an effort to comfort him, but he barely could feel it. Doctor Miller gave a sympathetic smile. “You did all you could have for your sister. I know she was endlessly grateful to you and loved you dearly. Remember that.” And then he stepped away, leaving Xavier to stand there by himself.

The ringing in his ears grew in volume, drowning out the noise of the lingering guests who came to speak to him, but he didn’t respond. He felt numb.

He stared forward at the new couch that his mother owned. And the new décor that hung up around the living room. No, not just the living room. There was new décor throughout the house. And new furniture. Silk bedsheets. Dark mahogany China cabinet. There was a new expensive looking China set in it as well. Not the old, chipped ones they had while he was growing up. The attic was stuffed full of new boxes. Was the old China set in one of them?

He found his feet moving without him even realizing it, walking slowly through the now empty house. Everyone had left. He hadn’t even noticed.

He entered the kitchen and saw Grace with her back to him, cleaning dishes at the sink. His mother was by the table, packaging up the leftovers. Now that he was looking, he noticed her dress. It was one he’d never seen before. It looked new. Expensive. Grace had commented on how nice her dress was just that morning as they prepared for the funeral. Xavier had barely paid attention when his mother said that she’d been gifted it. Gifted it? Who gifts someone a dress in the middle of a depression?

“Hey, mother,” he said. His voice sounded flat. Casual. It didn’t give anything away. His mother hummed without looking up. She hardly ever looked up, didn’t she. She always had been more focused on herself and barely paid attention to her children. Not even when their father took a hand to their face. “I noticed you got some new furniture. Where did you get it?”

“What furniture? You need to be more specific.”

Because of course he did. Because it was all new, wasn’t it. He noticed the table that she stood by was unfamiliar too. There were no water stains on the wood. No knicks or scratches. It was in perfect condition unlike their old kitchen table. “All of it,” he croaked out. Grace finally turned around at that, frowning at the hitched voice.

His mother paused but then continued taking care of the food. She still didn’t look up. “I had to buy a couple things. The old furniture was too worn and broken. I got others from people who practically donated it to me. Things they were getting rid of anyways, so I took it.”

“Even the fine China set in the mahogany cabinet?” The ringing was so very loud now. He wondered if Grace and his mother could hear it too.

Finally, his mother looked up.

She stared at him with those cold dead eyes with the same lack of emotion she always had. Not a hint of sadness or guilt.

And then he snapped.
______________________________________________________________
Vox sat at his desk, staring at his computer screen without really even processing what he was reading. His focus on his work as of late had been waning. It was causing a huge productivity problem that he needed to get a reign of soon. Valentino always expected a certain level of money and work done each month, never mind that his own work was never up to the same standards. But whenever Vox began to lose motivation to work, Valentino would make an appearance and “correct” him. Vox swallowed thickly at his “corrections”.

He rubbed the balls of his hands into his screen where his eyes were at in an attempt to regain his attention on his work. He hated when he got like this, numb and unmotivated. The feeling always came in waves over the past several decades, usually after a particularly hard night with Valentino or when all the stress piled up. Unfortunately, both were the cause of this particular slump.

He needed to focus!

There was a meek knock at his office door, causing him to growl. He recognized the knock and knew that the disturbance wouldn’t be for nothing. “Enter,” he barked out. Peppermint sheepishly peaked his head inside before entering and closing the door behind him. “What is it?” he said in a clipped tone.

“Uhm, there’s another Overlord here to see you, sir.” Another Overlord? He supposed that explained the extra sheepishness from his assistant.

“Well which one?” Vox rubbed his fingers into the side of the casing to his head. He could feel a migraine coming on and it didn’t matter what Overlord was here to see him, unannounced mind you, they were going to make it worse. I swear to God, he thought, if it’s Alastor again I’m going to jump out a window. Despite the lack of any real conviction behind the thought, the chain at his neck burned in warning.

“Uhm, a Miss Rosie, sir.”

Vox blinked in surprise. Rosie? Oh fuck, was this about that damn meeting for tea that she insisted he and Alastor should have with her? She had extended a couple different invitations for tea since the Overlord meeting about two weeks ago. He’d declined each invitation and thought that she would have stopped trying after the last refusal. Apparently not. Great, because this was just what he needed on top of everything.

He could tell his assistant to turn her away and say he was busy, but Vox was more than familiar with the persistence of the woman. When she set her mind to something there was very little convincing her otherwise. If he wanted her to stop pestering him about a stupid tea party with Alastor, then the best way was to allow her to speak her peace in person and then tell her to fuck off.

Vox sighed. “Let her up. I’ll meet with her in the big conference room on level thirty.” It was one of his favorites. It had a floor-to-ceiling view of his aquarium and sharks. He had barely spent any time with them as of late. Perhaps they were just what he needed to recalibrate his attention and get him back on track. If he was going to suffer through false niceties with Rosie, then he’d prefer to do it where he could watch his sharks. The presence of the sharks was always a great intimidation tactic too.

A small smile graced his lips as he sat in the conference room, watching two of his sharks swim around each other. They periodically would come up to the glass and nudge their noses up against it where one of Vox’s hands rested. He’ll have to hand feed them tonight. He’d allowed them to be fed by his employees for too long. They always got agitated if he went too long without feeding them personally. He didn’t need to lose any employees to them. It would slow down productivity even more if one of his employees had to regenerate.

Finally, he heard the conference doors open behind him and the almost pleased smile fell from his face. To imagine, once upon a time his smile would have grown at the mere sight of his old friend.

Vox heard a small chuckle from behind him that while it sounded amused, he couldn’t help but interpret as mocking. “You and your sharks! You always were obsessed with them. It’s rather endearing.”

Vox scowled at the glass and removed his hand. Nuh uh, he was not going to allow her to try and steer this into some reminiscing about old times. He turned his chair around to face Rosie, steepling his hands below his head and pinned Rosie with a stern look. “Rosie,” he drawled. “To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

“Come now, darling. Can’t an old friend just drop by to have a pleasant chat?” she said with a smile, taking a seat at the chair right next to him, undeservedly familiar. Vox’s eyes flickered down to a wicker basket that she placed by her feet, immediately suspicious.

“Not when the two are no longer friends and haven’t had a pleasant chat between them in decades,” he said drily.

Rosie wasn’t deterred, however, and said with a smile. “Oh, come now. It’s not like we’re overtly hostile with each other. And besides! You agreed to having a cup of tea with me!”

Vox raised a single eyebrow. “I don’t remember any such thing. I DO remember you deciding it was time to have a chat over some tea but I, NOR Alastor, made any promises.”

“Yes, but I didn’t hear any refusals either!” she said in a sing-song voice.

Vox barked out a humorless laugh. “Oh yeah? What do you call all those invitation declinations I had sent back to you over the past two weeks?”

“I always prefer to get my information straight from the horse’s mouth.”

Vox stared at her in bewilderment. “No, you don’t!” He cried. “You’re the gossip queen! You always get your information from other sources.” Velvette would yell at him if she heard him call Rosie the gossip queen over her but Rosie was the original gossiper. Her methods were just more antiquated.

Rosie hummed. “True. But I do like confirming the information I come by directly from the person themselves, when I can. And here I am!”

Vox scowled. “Fine. You’re here. I don’t want to have tea with you. Happy now? Now leave!”

Rosie just kept smiling at Vox despite being told to leave. If Vox didn’t know better, he’d think Rosie was the one known for always wearing an unnerving smile. But unlike her dearest friend, Vox had seen his fair share of frowns on her face. She was more than frowning at Vox the last time they ever had tea with each other.

“What’s the rush?” she asked. “I know you’re always so busy which is why I can understand you refused my invitations. Which is why I decided to bring the tea to you!”

The wicker basket on the floor now made sense when she placed it onto the table and began pulling out an entire kettle of water that was still steaming. Two mugs were then extracted, along with a bowl of sugar cubes and some milk. Vox stared as she pulled out item after item, snacks of a wide variety, both cannibal in nature and otherwise. Vox attempted to get her to stop, going so far as grabbing a couple of the items to put back into the basket but Rosie just smiled and pulled them right back out.

God, somehow he forgot just HOW stubborn she was. It seemed that she was going to have her tea party whether Vox wanted to or not. If she pulled Alastor out of that basket though then he would not be held responsible for the all-out Overlord fight that would break out between them. Valentino might be an asshole, but they were part of a team, and he knew that both he and Velvette would immediately come to his defense. Three Overlord’s against two. He liked their odds despite the overwhelming power display that both Alastor and Rosie possessed. He imagined Alastor was still weak from his wound too, even if Velvette’s antidote may have worked. Which had it? He still had no idea.

Vox sighed and sat back down, allowing Rosie to pull everything out of the basket without any further hindrance. Rosie’s sharp-toothed smile widened further at her victory.

“Alright, fine. One cup. And then you’re out of here,” he said with a glare.

“Splendid!” she beamed.

She set them each up with some tea leaves, pouring the hot water into their cups. How the water was still hot all the way from Cannibal Town was beyond him. Some sort of old magic, he was sure. She and Alastor always were skilled at that sort of thing. They’d bonded over it. It never much made sense to Vox and it always left him feeling like an outsider when the other two would converse about it.

Once she had finished with setting everything up, she handed Vox his cup of tea. “Give a few minutes dear and it’ll be ready to drink.”

The heat from the cup was pleasing in a familiar way. He may not have had tea with Rosie in years, but Velvette had taken her place. Such a stereotype, he had told her. Each time she would roll her eyes and shoot him a middle finger. Vox gave a small smile as he stared down at his cup.

“Now isn’t that nice,” said Rosie sweetly. Vox looked up at her with a small line between his brows in confusion. “Your smile. I feel like I haven’t seen it in ages.”

He huffed and blew away some of the steam. “Like I said, we ain’t friends anymore. Not like you’d see my smile.”

“Oh, but I do! I might be old-fashioned but unlike some friends of ours, I enjoy a good bit of time in front of the television. I’ve seen your smiles you have for the camera, but not once does it ever look like a genuine one!” One guess as to who their ‘friend’ was supposed to be. Vox allowed his frown to fall into a full one at not just her words but at the reminder of Alastor.

“Most things you see on the television are fake,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “Would have thought you knew that.”

“Of course I do! But your smile wasn’t always one of them. I remember the earlier shows you put on. You always looked so much happier while performing back then.” Her tone turned sad then. “Makes me wonder what changed to make that happen.”

Anger boiled just under the surface. How dare she act ignorant. “Like Hell you don’t know,” he growled. “You were there when everything went down between me and that red-headed fuck.”

Rosie blinked at him. Despite the lack of pupils, she gave an air of surprise. “That was years ago, sweetie. I’m not saying that it doesn’t make sense that you’d still be upset about that, but for a while now you’ve seemed…crushed. And different. Not at all like your old self.” She tilted her head slightly to the side. “And I’ll be honest, I thought you had gotten over some of those lingering hurts. You and Alastor seemed practically friendly at the last meeting.”

Vox gave a humorless laugh. “Friendly? As if!” He laughed some more to try and drive the point home because she was right, they were not necessarily friendly but at least not outright hostile at the last meeting. But things had changed since then. Or rather, things went right back to the way they always were, Vox and Alastor at each other’s throats, trying to kill each other. “Alastor and I hate each other the same as always.”

Rosie took a sip of her tea as she stared at him, assessing. Vox made himself take a sip of his tea too to mask any sort of discomfort he felt under her scrutiny.

“I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t try to help someone with a clearly very serious injury if I hated them, now would I?” She raised a single eyebrow that she pointed towards him over the top of her cup.

Vox just frowned back at her but then his eyes narrowed. She wasn’t just here for some tea and conversation, obviously. He knew that going into this. But what was she here for exactly?

“What do you want, Rosie?” he asked. “For me to tell you that I care for Alastor still, even if on some miniscule level? Because I won’t. I fucking hate that man and I don’t know why you, his best friend, would come here to enemy territory for something so pointless. So why are you here, hhm? Fishing for information, like usual?” It was his turn to raise a single eyebrow in disbelief.

Rosie grabbed a finger sandwich, a literal one, and took a dainty bite with her too sharp teeth. “Is this enemy territory now? I didn’t realize that we had reached that status.”

He placed his cup on the conference table perhaps a little too forcefully, causing a clang. “Of course we’re enemies. You made that perfectly clear all those years ago.”

There was real confusion on her face then which only pissed Vox off more. “Whatever do you mean, dear?”

“Don’t play coy with me!” he hissed. “You made it perfectly clear where you stood when me and Alastor had our ‘falling out’. I knew he was your best friend and the two of you had known each other the longest, but I would have thought our several decades long friendship wasn’t just built off of the back of our mutual association with Alastor!”

He’d lost everything, EVERYTHING, when Alastor ended their friendship. No more Al. No more Husk. No more Rosie. The only one he still had left was Valentino. And look how that turned out.

And perhaps that was the main crux of the pain. Because if in the end Vox had still somehow managed to fall for Valentino’s charm and manipulations, it wouldn’t have been so bad if he wasn’t so alone and isolated. But Alastor hadn’t just set flame to their relationship but all of the one’s that Alastor felt he had a claim to as well. Alastor always hated Valentino so of course he’d leave the moth for Vox, dooming him in the process.

Vox was breathing heavily, seething in anger. All the while, Rosie stared at him with a deep sort of sympathy route across her face. Fuck. Her! Fuck her! Fuck Alastor! Fuck motherfucking Valentino!

“Darling,” she said slowly, almost as if she was approaching a wild and injured animal. Perhaps that was what he was. “I never said that you and I weren’t still friends after what happened between you and Alastor. I might not have approved of how you, AND Alastor, handled the situation but that never meant that I didn’t still see you as a friend.”

“Well you surrrre fucking made it seem like we weren’t,” he said, his screen glitching. “You called me an idiot!”

Rosie frowned. “I told you not to be rash and do something that I KNEW Alastor would be uncomfortable with. But you still did it anyways and ended a decades long friendship. Yes, I called you an idiot.”

“I didn’t end shit!” he yelled, slamming his hands onto the table and standing up, leaning forwards and glaring at Rosie. “He was the one who told me that I was pathetic and that we were never friends to begin with and to not come crawling back to him when things turned to shit with V-x-Valentino!” A spark shot down his antenna and down his body, sending a shiver down his spine. Reign it in, he thought. Don’t lose your temper in front of another Overlord, he reminded himself.

The line between Rosie’s brows increased in length as she stared at him. “Vox, darling. Alastor has never been great with his emotions, you know this. He reacted in the only way he knew how when confronted with an emotion he was unfamiliar with and didn’t know anything about. When you told him you loved him-”

“How FUCKING typical!” he yelled, baring his teeth at her. “You ALWAYS make excuses for him! When he reacts in an emotional and irrational manner it’s fine! He’s the big bad Radio Demon who has trouble with understanding the most basic of emotions and it’s everyone else’s job to tiptoe around him and manage them for him! But when I’M the one who reacts emotionally than I’M the one who’s at fault and needs to get their shit together! The hypocrisy is astounding!”

There was real irritation that showed on Rosie’s face then, however small it was before she was able to mask it. She huffed and said, “Vox, you had time to think of your emotions. Process them and come to terms with what you felt for him. And then you came to me for advice on what to do and despite me telling you that confessing your love for him was a VERY bad idea you did it anyways. Of course, Alastor was going to react negatively when you blindsided him so.”

“Oh fuck you!” he said, earning him a disapproving look at his rudeness. Good, he didn’t want to be polite. “It’s one thing for him to run off or tell me he didn’t feel the same or Hell, even laugh in my face for thinking he’d ever feel the same as me! But to tell me, to MY FACE, that he didn’t give a shit about me and never had and then fucking SMASH my FACE in is next level assholery!”

Rosie sighed, looking away and down at the food between them. “Yes, that was…bad, to say the very least. He reacted negatively and I tore him a new one once I found out what he did to you. But Vox, you have to know he didn’t mean it.”

“Didn’t mean it?!” Vox’s claws left indents in his table that he was too pissed off to notice. “And that’s, what, supposed to make it better?? Fuck you for even suggesting that!” He sneered at her as he leaned into her space, forcing her to lean back slightly in her chair. “But he fucking meant it. He meant every word and punch he sent my way.”

“Vox,” she said in a disapproving tone. “Do you really think that he would have kept you alive after all these years if you truly meant nothing to him?”

There was that same niggling thought at the back of his head. He had come to his tower just two weeks ago to kill Vox and yet when he literally was being begged to do it, had the gun in his hand with the angelic bullet and everything, he didn’t just hesitate he refused. And for what reason? To be impossibly crueler?

Alastor had told him once that there were worse fates than a final death and that he took a particular pleasure in tormenting his enemies to the point that they literally begged him to end it all. Then, and only then, does he give them their respite. But then when Vox begged him to end it all he refused. Was Vox really worth so little to him that he wasn’t even worth a final death and salvation from this endless torment? Or was Rosie right, there was still some lingering fondness for the Demon he claimed to have never thought of as a friend in the first place?

No, that was a ridiculous thought, and he should banish such fantasies away. He needed Rosie to do so as well.

Vox sat down with a forced calmness and crossed his arms in front of his chest. He stared at Rosie who stared back. Here was the person who perhaps knew Alastor best in this wicked afterlife. Was his self-proclaimed best friend, and vice versa. And yet she had been completely in the dark about his life-threatening injury. What else was she ignorant about?

Vox smirked which seemed to put Rosie on edge. Good. “Do you really think he gives a shit about someone who he invaded their territory, someone who had been HELPING him and trying to SAVE him, when he then tried to murder that someone?”

Rosie’s face twitched. Ahh, so she truly had no idea about Alastor showing up here unannounced. “You didn’t know, did you?” he asked, knowing the answer. Vox gave her a cruel smile. “Just the day after the Overlord’s meeting he came here at night, with his shadows and magic, and tried to kill me in my own home.” Rosie frowned. “Mind you he was weak as shit and didn’t stand a chance against me with his gaping wound across his chest.” Rosie’s grip on her cup tightened minutely and he smiled wider. “Oh, that’s right, you don’t know much about that, and I know that’s why you really came here, hoping I’d spill the beans. Well not to worry, I’ll lay everything out for you! I mean why would I keep it a secret!”

Vox finally reached for his tea again, his rapidly cooling tea. He took a sip before smiling back at Rosie. “Alastor got his ass handed to him by the First Man and nearly died but managed to drag himself away. The wound was infected with poison, however, and he’d been keeping it a secret from everyone until everyone at the hotel figured it out when he passed out and wouldn’t wake up. They asked me for help, which I was able to buy him some more time. Heaven got involved and gave him the antidote, which – ended up getting destroyed.” Vox plowed forward, taking another sip as he fumbled over his words. “I took it to Velvette who recreated it, the ‘cure’ she mentioned. And you know what?” He leaned forwards again and grinned wickedly. “She succeeded.”

Rosie gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Throughout his little explanation worry was evident in her eyes but now there was barely contained hope. Vox was going to take a wicked sort of pleasure from shattering it.

“And then that’s when he showed up here, outright telling me he was there to kill me.” Just to prove the point the screens that were displayed on the opposite wall from Rosie sprung to life, startling her slightly. She turned to stare wide eyed as he displayed the view that was recorded through his own head of Alastor standing in the dark living room of Vox’s apartment. His smile was wide and cruel as he said proudly, “Why I’m here to kill you, you pathetic excuse for a Demon!”

Vox watched Rosie as she watched the recording, the recording that he was helpless to have recorded as he was helpless to record all things he experiences. Her face turned sad when Alastor said he “should have disposed of your pathetic self long ago like all the other Overlords I killed with my bare hands.” And her face turned horrified when she watched Alastor push Vox up against the window and called him “incompetent”.

Vox resolutely watched her watch the recording and absolutely did not flinch when he heard his own pathetic glitching and whimpering. Rosie did flinch, however, when Alastor proclaimed he “should have let you kill yourself on that same damned rooftop when I first met you.”

The screens cut off then, Vox not able to listen to another moment. Rosie looked at him again with such sorrowful eyes. Vox swallowed thickly and thought maybe he had revealed a little too much with that last bit. He didn’t want her fucking sympathy.

A spark travelled between his antennae, and he made his face twist into something ugly and cruel. He growled out, “That fucker tried to kill me, but he failed. Just like he always fucking failed. I pumped him full of electricity and again he ran away with his tail between his legs. But not before he coughed up blood onto my floor as he could barely breath through the pain.” He gave a booming, loud laugh. “The fuckers probably dead right now after finally succumbing to the angelic poison coursing through his veins!”

It didn’t matter that he threw the untested antidote at Alastor before he disappeared. It didn’t matter that Velvette confirmed it worked. It didn’t matter that the Princess most assuredly would have let him know if Alastor had died. What mattered was the rage that had finally settled upon Rosie’s shoulders, her mouth twisting into a snarl as she had just been told that her best friend was likely dead.

“Vox, you wouldn’t,” she said lowly.

Vox sneered. “Oh, I would.” He tipped his head to the side, challenging Rosie to fucking dare attack him on his own turf. He’d already beat one Overlord who dared this month. What was one more? “And I was one hundred percent justified in doing so too. In my own territory. Unprovoked. He attacked first. I had every right to fry his ass, and I’d do it again.” Vox narrowed his eyes at Rosie. “And your anger over such a thing just proves, you and I were never friends to begin with if you think for one second, I shouldn’t have fucking killed him.”

That seemed to finally snap her out of her slowly building anger. She blinked and any of the subtle displays of her true Demonic form vanished. Her shoulders slumped and she suddenly looked like all the years of her nearly century and a half years of existence.

“When did things get so out of sorts for us, Vox?” she said softly.

Vox bristled and then looked away. After several seconds he said, “You were right about one thing. I was an idiot. You want to know when everything went to shit? Everything went to shit when I was the biggest fool in Hell and fell for a monster.” But wasn’t that the kicker, because he didn’t just do it once, but he did it twice. What was the definition of insanity again? Doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result?

Rosie quietly got to her feet and made her way towards the conference room doors. She didn’t even grab her belongings, instead choosing to abandon it all. Vox didn’t look towards her, not feeling able to do so. Any satisfaction he felt in making Rosie think Alastor was dead, making her hate him for real, seemed to turn to ash on his tongue.

Just before she reached the doors she stopped.

“For what it’s worth, I never meant to make you feel like I chose him over you. I cared for you Vox; you were still my friend even if you two no longer were.” ‘Cared’ she said. She had cared for him. But no longer. “I only wish that I could have helped the two of you look past all the pain you inflicted on each other and see how much the other meant to you before it was too late.”

Moisture burned at the corners of his eyes that he blinked away rapidly, refusing to let them fall.

“I already knew what he meant to me. And he knew what I meant to him too.” His throat burned and he dug the claws of one hand into the tops of his thighs, grounding himself with the pain. It was only a small relief for the burning sensation at his throat turned into another type, wrapping around and forcing the bruising grip to lessen. “A pathetic, weak Demon who wasn’t worth anyone’s time. Only some easy and quick entertainment.”

Vox’s phone chimed from his pocket, and he knew that Valentino was demanding his own sort of entertainment.
______________________________________________________________
Then, Xavier snapped.

Within the blink of an eye he was across the kitchen and his hands were wrapped around his mother’s throat. He pushed her up against the wall and squeezed as hard as he could. Finally, there was the emotion. Fear.

She clawed at his hands, and she squirmed against the wall. Her eyes were wide and filled with panic. Grace shouted out in alarm behind him and yelled at him to stop. But he barely heard it. All of his attention was focused on the vile woman who birthed him. Birthed Olivia.

“You took it!” He screamed. “Y-y-y-you took the money meant for Olivia’s surgeries and you bought all this ssshhhhhit!!”

His mother’s mouth was gapping like a fish, opening and closing but unable to let any sound out other than the gurgled attempts to breathe. Grace came up behind him and was pulling on his shoulders, trying to get him to stop but he was stronger. “You bitch, you bitch!! You killed her!!”

“Xavier stop it! Let her go!” cried Grace. But she wouldn’t be saying such things if she knew the truth. His mother had let her own daughter die. If she had just paid for the surgeries, maybe Olivia would still be alive.

Xavier was consumed by rage, his entire focus going into squeezing his mother’s neck as hard as he could. Her face was turning red from the lack of oxygen and tears were falling from her still wide eyes. Grace began hitting his back and some of the pressure on his mother’s neck let up. Not a lot, but just enough for his mother to finally gasp out, “G-george.”

It was like a bucket of ice-cold water had been dumped on his head. Xavier suddenly released his mother and stumbled back several feet, bumping into Grace. His mother fell to the ground and began hacking as she desperately tried to suck in air. Grace rushed to her side and placed her hand on his mother’s back telling her to breathe. She was shaking where she sat in a heap on the floor. His mother then finally looked up and looked at him in fear.

That’s right, he remembered seeing emotion on his mother’s face before. It was only ever fear though. Fear of his father. And that’s how she looked at him now, with that same fear. She had called him George, mistaking him for his father.

Apparently, Grace was wrong. He had more in common with his father than just his looks.

Xavier stumbled back several more steps, staring at his mother in horror. There were red marks already forming on the sides of his mother’s neck in the shape of fingers. Oh God. He’d done that. Oh God, oh God, oh God.

He then turned around and ran out of the kitchen. He ignored Grace’s shouts of “Wait!” He ran through the house and out the front door. He ran and ran, just like he had all those years ago when he had inflicted his first act of violence against one of his parents. And here he was again, after he had hurt his other parent now, but far more grievously.

He ran, not knowing where he was running to, just knowing he had to get away.

Finally, the church came into view. He stopped and panted as he stared at it. Behind the church was the cemetery.

On shaky feet he made his way to the one single fresh grave. It was fully filled now and there was no one in sight. He stumbled over to the grave and stared down at the tombstone.

Here lies Olivia Marie Vox. Born February 20th, 1902. Died November 2nd, 1936. Beloved daughter and sister.

A gut-wrenching sob then escaped his lips. He fell to his knees and wept before his sister’s grave.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sssorry,” he wept. He wrapped his arms around himself and cried for his dear sister. His best friend. He didn’t know what he was apologizing for specifically. For not doing enough. For not realizing his mother’s deceit. For making his sister feel like she couldn’t talk to him about her treatment, leading to him not finding out sooner his mother wasn’t paying for her proper care. Or maybe he was apologizing for what he had just done. For nearly killing their own mother. Or maybe for not following through with it. What would Olivia have thought if she saw him strangle their mother? What would Victor have thought? Their father?

He didn’t know how long he cried for before he finally calmed down. Tears still fell down his cheeks, but they were silent.

He then heard footsteps approach behind him but he didn’t turn. Was it Grace?

The footsteps stopped right behind him, but he didn’t turn. If it was Grace, he didn’t know how he could face her. She had tried to get him to stop and if it wasn’t for her, he didn’t know what would have happened. He very well might have killed his mother if Grace hadn’t struck him on the back.

“I’d heard your sister had passed,” came a gruff voice behind him. “I had wanted to go to the funeral but well, I was wallowing in my own grief. I had forgotten when it was scheduled. I’m assuming it was today, then?”

Xavier frowned and turned with great effort. Standing there was David.

He hadn’t seen the older man for years now. Not since that night all those years ago when he was still just a kid, terrified of his father and running. David looked terrible. His face was unshaven and there were bags under his eyes. His hair was disheveled and gave the impression of having not been washed for some time. His clothes were rumbled and dirty, stains on his shirt and pants. There was a flask in his hand.

That’s right. Josef had died too.

David noticed Xavier looking at his flask. He reached out and offered it to Xavier. Without missing a beat, he grabbed it and took a generous sip.

David took a couple steps closer, coming to stand next to him. The two stared at Olivia’s grave.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” David said. “She was a real spitfire from what I remember.”

Xavier took another sip and then gave David back his flask, who in turn sipped from it. “Thanks,” he mumbled. “And sorry for your loss.” He looked up at David from where he still kneeled. “I heard about Josef.”

David just grunted and kept drinking. Then silence.

“Heard the two of you made it big on Broadway,” David said. “Josef was beyond thrilled. Said he knew you’d make something of yourself. Told him he had thought you had potential for the damn presidency, being some actor was one Hell of a downgrade.”

“I’d be a terrible politician.” What would people think if they found out the damn president had nearly strangled his mother to death?

“Yeah well, he sure thought so. Thought you could do anything. Always so optimistic, even through the damn cancer.” Another sip of the flask and then he extended it towards Xavier. He took it without question. “Heard your sister had tuberculosis. That right?”

Xavier nodded and then drank, winching at the burn of the alcohol. It was strong stuff and cheap.

“I imagine it isn’t much prettier than cancer,” David said. “Why are the good ones the ones that always get saddled with such things? Fucking tragic, is what it is.” Xavier nodded again. “You don’t have something too, do ya?” Xavier furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Scarlet fever? Heart disease?”

Xavier shook his head and gave the flask back. “No.”

“Good. Would hate to have another good one die.”

Xavier felt immediately worse. ‘Good.’ No, he wasn’t good anymore. Maybe he never had been. “I’m not good,” he said self-deprecatingly.

David barked out a laugh. “Yeah, you are.”

Xavier frowned. “No, I’m really not. You don’t know the things I’ve done.”

“Shut up, kid,” David said. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You always were a good kid. Doubt that’s changed in the last, what fourteen years? Fifteen? Either way, you ain’t changed.”

Xavier scoffed. “You don’t even know me. Not anymore. We haven’t spoke in years!”

“So,” he said flippantly. “I don’t need to. You’re sitting here saying you’re not good. People who are actually terrible people never think they’re not good. They don’t feel guilt. And I can see you’re feelin’ awfully guilty about something. That means you’re good.”

Xavier shook his head in disbelief. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I feel guilty so that means I’m a good person? That doesn’t make any sense! If I was actually a good person, I wouldn’t have done the thing I’m feeling guilty about in the first place!”

David shrugged and sipped. “Everybody makes mistakes.”

“Mistakes? Mistakes?! This isn’t just some simple mistake!” He cried.

“Ever tried apologizing?”

Xavier gave a humorless laugh. Apologize? Would his mother forgive him if he apologized? Did he even want to apologize? Apparently, his guilt didn’t run that deep if he had no desire to apologize. That more than anything was enough of a sign that he was not a good person.

Xavier just shook his head. There was no point arguing with David. He was always a stubborn man and that didn’t seem to have changed. “Just forget it.” He sighed.

“Sure thing, kid.” Then some more silence. “I will say this though. You have changed a little. Seem to have grown a bit of a backbone. The old you would have been stutterin’ and barely able to talk to me. Look at you now, you’ve come far. Josef would have been proud.”

Not if he knew what he had done.

There was a shout in the distance then. A call of his name. Xavier turned around to see Grace rushing towards him with a frantic look on her face. His shame grew.

He finally got to his feet and stumbled back a step once Grace threw her arms around him. “Xavier, I was so worried! You just ran off and I didn’t know where you went!” She leaned back and put her hands on either side of his face. “Are you alright?”

Was HE alright? Why was she asking him that after what he had just done? The worry in Grace’s face was evident as she searched him. His eyes tingled as tears began to fall anew. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorrrrry.”

Grace’s face twisted in sympathy, and she drew him back into a hug. He clung to her desperately as she said, “Shhh, shhh. You’ll be alright. Everything will be alright.”

Her first husband was a violent monster who had abused her. And now her second husband was just as violent. How could she even stand to touch him?

“I sh-shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t. But she used all the mmmmoney. The money I sent for Olivia. Shhhhhe killed her,” he said through tears.

Grace held onto the back of his head, holding him close. “I know. I know. I’ve got you,” she cooed. “I’ve got you.”

They held onto each other for several minutes, basking in each other’s comfort. As Xavier’s tears petered out, David cleared his throat, startling both of them. He had forgotten he was there.

They pulled away from each other slightly to look at David. Xavier whipped at his eyes and said, “Sorry. Forgive me. Uhm, Grace. This is David. David, Grace.”

David nodded. “Pleasure to meet you, miss.” He saw David peak at Grace’s left hand and then Xavier’s too. His eyebrows rose when he saw the wedding rings.

Xavier’s face flushed. “Uhm, Grace is my wife. But it’s not, you know, a traditional marriage.”

Grace’s head whipped towards him, shocked at him saying such a thing to someone else. “David used to be my old boss when I worked at the auto shop as a kid. Him and his, uhh, partner. Josef.”

Understanding dawned on Grace, her mouth falling into an 'O'. “Oh! Right. I remember you telling me about them.”

“You told your wife about your old queer bosses?” David deadpanned.

Xavier shot him a horrified look before looking around to make sure there was no one to hear. “Relax, kid,” said David. “Everyone in this shithole knows what I am. Made it pretty damn obvious when Josef died. They ain’t strung me up a tree yet, although one or two have tried. I’m one mean old bastard though. Josef always said I run on piss and vinegar.” He raised his flask. “And booze.”

Grace looked horrified at the implication that some of the people in Xavier’s hometown had tried to murder a man for being a homosexual. Multiple times. But Xavier wasn’t surprised. It was one of the reasons they each had a wedding ring on their fingers. “That’s terrible,” she said.

“Ehh the alcohol ain’t that bad.” David then barked out a laugh at his own joke. “But seriously, it is what it is. People are bastards. Always have been, always will be. Your husband ain’t a bastard though, even if he sure seems to think so.”

Xavier looked away in shame when he saw Grace shoot him a concerned look.

“How, uhm, how’s my mother?” he asked then.

“She’s, uh, pretty shaken up. But she’ll be ok,” Grace said and then fidgeted. “She made it clear that we are not to return to the house, however. Ever again.” That was more than fine with Xavier. He didn’t think he ever wanted to see the woman again. “I grabbed all our luggage. It’s sitting in the taxi right now. We’ll have to find somewhere else to stay for the night before we can go home.” While an inconvenience, he was relieved he didn’t have to face his mother again.

“You can stay with me.” Xavier and Grace both stared at David in disbelief. He shrugged. “Unless you don’t want to stay at an alcoholic old queer’s house.”

“You don’t have to do that,” said Xavier.

“I know I don’t. But Josef would come back from the dead just to kick my ass if I didn’t at least offer. I don’t really have a spare bedroom, but I got some couches. They’re comfortable enough.”

Grace stepped forward and grabbed his hand between both of hers. “Oh, thank you, sir. We greatly appreciate it. We can pay you too.”

“I don’t want your money,” he huffed.

“We insist,” said Xavier.

“And I insist more,” he bite out. He pulled his hand away and began walking towards the exit to the cemetery. “You two can pay for the cab ride to my house though.”

Xavier smiled at the old man. Grace moved to follow him, but he then grabbed her hand quickly to stop her. She looked at him in confusion but didn’t say a word when she saw the concerned look on his face. “Wait just a moment.” David kept walking, unaware the two weren’t following. Xavier stepped close to Grace and then looked down at his feet, unable to look her in the eyes. “About earlier-”

“It’s fine, Xavier,” she quickly said, cutting him off.

“No, it’s not fine,” he insisted. “I don’t ever want to scare you. I made a promise to be better than your first husband and I worry now that I’m not.”

He finally looked up and saw her brows furrowed. She sighed after a moment. “I won’t say that what you did was alright. Or that I wasn’t scared.” Xavier flinched. “But I wasn’t scared that you’d hurt me, I was just scared that you’d do something that you’d come to regret.” She reached up and placed her hand on his cheek which he leaned into. “I loved Olivia too, Xavier. I get why you did what you did, but you’re not the type of person who’d kill someone.”

“But what if I am?” he whispered, afraid of the answer.

Grace stared at him for several seconds, her face unreadable. Then finally, “Then I’d still love you. Because I know you wouldn’t do it for no reason. I might not agree with it, but I’d love you. I’ll always love you.”

God, how did he still have tears left? His lip trembled as he said, “Why? I don’t understand how you could love me even then.”

She frowned and opened her mouth but hesitated. She looked uncertain before a sort of resolve seemed to pass over her. Then, “Xavier…I need to tell you-”

“Hey!” shouted David. “You two coming or not?”

Xavier looked at him but then turned back to Grace. Any certainty that she had gained had vanished. She sighed and then patted his cheek gently before pulling it away. “I just would, Xavier. I just would.”

Xavier wanted to press further but then David gave them another shout. Whatever Grace had been about to say was gone now. The two began to walk hand-in-hand towards David. As they walked, Xavier shot one last lingering look at the tombstones behind him. Olivia and Victor. Side-by-side.

Xavier wasn’t likely to come back to this town again. Any lingering connection he had had evaporated the moment he put his hands on his mother’s neck. She didn’t want to see him ever again and he didn’t want to see her. Whenever she died, he knew he wouldn’t come back here for her funeral, just like he hadn’t for his father. This was likely the last time he’d see their graves. They were gone now, and he was alone.

Grace squeezed his hand. No, he reminded himself. He wasn’t alone. Despite everything, Grace was by his side and he knew now that she’d never leave him. Not even if he turned out to be the monster he now worried he might be.
_____________________________________________________________
Alastor sat in the dark room, hiding in the shadows along the wall. He’d been waiting for hours now and still no sign of Lilith. Where was she? What sort of trouble was she off getting up to on behalf of the Mistress? Was she out stalking Vox, keeping an eye out to see when Alastor would arrive to kill him? Was she preparing to strike herself if Alastor didn’t? Maybe Alastor should be out following and watching Vox instead, waiting for any trouble that came his way. If Velvette’s slip was any indication, the Mistress and Lilith weren’t the only threat.

‘Calm yourself,’ came the expected hiss. ‘The Mistress wants you to kill the television yourself. She would not have Lilith kill him. It would serve no real purpose outside of Her receiving the boost to power that another shattered soul would provide her. She wants you to prove yourself to her and shed yourself of your attachments to others. The further you stay from the television presently, the safer he is from the Mistress.’

Yes, but what of the disgusting moth, he thought.

‘The Overlord is inconsequential in comparison to Her. Forget about such worries on matters you don’t even know anything about and focus on Lilith and Her or you will get both of us sent back to the void and I don’t anticipate she will be so lenient in our punishment this time,’ it growled.

Lenient. Ha! Seven years is lenient?

‘It is when in comparison to an eternity stuck in that madness!’ It hissed loudly in his head making him cringe. ‘You don’t know what it’s like to be stuck there after decades, centuries, millennia!’ The shadow’s tone was distinctly disapproving, reminiscent of a mother chastising an unruly child. It then sighed and hissed inside his head in a far more subdued tone, ‘And yet the threat does nothing to deter your foolish endeavor to willfully disobey the Mistress.’

Alastor was glad for the fact that his shadow no longer seemed to want to fight him on this matter. He had made up his mind about Vox and he was going to make sure that he lived. He just needed to make sure the Mistress didn’t target him any longer and the best way was to get Lilith on his side.

And yet she still hadn’t made a damned appearance in her own room!

Thank God, or Her, or whoever, that Lilith and Lucifer were not sharing a room despite her return. He was relegated to his own room that had been built for him specifically while Lilith had decided to take a less lavish and far more ordinary room. While the dejected expression on the King’s face was pleasant, it wasn’t worth it to have Lilith back. And yet, having the two in separate rooms worked nicely for Alastor’s present needs of privacy and getting the Queen alone. Or rather, as alone as either she or he could be with their constant companions.

And that was the thing, convincing Lilith to not tell the Mistress that Alastor had no designs on killing Vox meant he had to convince Lilith’s shadow too. From his experience, the thing was rather obedient and loyal to Lilith, however. How nice, having an obedient shadow.

His own growled. ‘You want a simpering and weak-willed servant, but I am anything but. I refuse to bow down to any man once more. Especially not a sniveling child such as yourself.’ While the words would typically be biting some of the usual heat was lacking. It seemed that their truce had done wonders. ‘Obedience to its teether is irrelevant in the end. What level of obedience it has to Her is what you should be focused on.’

And is it obedient to Her, he wondered.

‘All are to some level, even if one does not want to,’ his shadow hissed.

And how obedient is it, he thought. Do you know, he thought towards his shadow.

‘She has acquired far too many that She has put on chains over the years. And far too many have displeased Her so and have found themselves to be stuck in Her void. I do not know every one of them, let alone most. You very well know what sort of all consuming misery overtakes one while in the void. There is very little that any pay attention to outside of their own suffering.’

Fantastic. So you have no idea who it was before it turned into the same creature as yourself, he thought.

His shadow hissed. ‘No. I do not. And knowing who they were beforehand would do very little in way of predicting if Lilith’s shadow would be obedient to her over the Mistress. The void twists one beyond anything that would be recognizable of who they once were. What matters is the now.’

Alastor didn’t know if he believed that. One’s past was always something that would have an impact and inform the future decisions of someone. If they knew who Lilith’s shadow was beforehand and knew what sort of person they were then it could help in convincing it to align with them.

His shadow scoffed. ‘It was a twisted Sinner, just as we all are. That’s the sort of person you are dealing with.’ It growled. ‘And you never have concerned yourself with who I once was. Why should you concern yourself with who Lilith’s shadow was?’

Alastor tried to contain his amusement at that. Like his shadow would ever tell him anything about itself.

His shadow was saved from a response when the door finally opened to Lilith’s room. In strode the Queen herself, her horns towering above her, regal and intimidating. Despite the waiting, despite the planning, his stomach flipped.

The door closed behind her, and she turned the light on, banishing the darkness, yet the shadows where Alastor lingered remained. Her eyes narrowed at the unnatural darkness.

“Alastor,” she drawled. “To what do I owe the displeasure?” Her own shadow shifted where it lay on the floor, elongating towards Alastor and his shadow, rearing up to glare at the two.

Alastor finally allowed himself to take shape, stepping out of the darkness with his shadow.

“Lilith! How nice of you to join us!” he said with a beaming smile, twisting unnatural at the ends. “We’ve been waiting for some time! Took a leisurely stroll all the way to Heaven again, perhaps?” Alastor teased. He seriously doubted she had been back to Heaven today but the reminder that he knew where she had gotten off to, where both her husband and daughter were unaware of, he knew would piss her off.

The scowl said his comment did the trick. ‘Don’t,’ his shadow discreetly hissed in his mind. ‘You are trying to get her to your side against the Mistress. Angering her needlessly will only make things worse.’

Alastor internally grumbled but relented. He couldn’t allow his emotions and irritation at the woman get the best of him.

"Where I have been is my own business, not yours," she said as she walked into her room, waving her hand towards the fire place. Flames came to life, bathing her in an ominous light. "And I asked you a question first, why are you here in my room uninvited?"

"Why business, of course," he drawled as he walked towards the fireplace. He took a seat on a couch without being invited to, draping one arm on the back of the couch leisurely. He looked as if he felt at home there when he felt anything but. He crossed his legs and set his newly restored cane across his lap. He brushed his thumb over the crack from where it had been broken. It seemed that Adam's angelic power had left scars on more than just Alastor himself. Not even Alastor's newly restored powers were enough to get ride of the damage completely. "Come," he said as he patted the cushion next to him. "It's time for a little chat."

Predictably, Lilth took the love seat across from Alastor instead of the sitting next to him. But at least she sat without complaint. That's good. Maybe she'd actually hear him out without Alastor having to resort to threats. His shadow scoffed in disbelief inside his head. His shadow then moved across the floor before coming to take the place where Alastor indicated Lilith to sit. While his shadow wasn't fully corporeal, it gave the appearance of sitting. Lilith raised a single eyebrow at the two of them. They gave the impression of facing Lilith as a united front.

"What's this?" she drawled. "Finally stopped bickering?" Perhaps coming at her as a united front was the wrong move. She knew how much the two fought and disliked each other. Ever since Alastor had first met Lilith that was the case, since before all of their shared stint in the void. To see Alastor's shadow sitting beside him, as an equal, Lilith had to know something was up.

Alastor shrugged with one shoulder, casual and unbothered. "We realized that all our in-fighting was exhausting and pointless. Don't you think?"

Lilith snorted. How un-ladylike, especially for a royal. "What, is this some sort of pathetic attempt at a truce between you and me? How ridiculous. I thought that you'd be at least smarter than that but I guess not. Wouldn't be the first time I've been wrong about you." The last part was said almost as a growl. Lilith's own shadow hissed at Alastor where it twisted around her feet.

Alastor's smile twitched. How dare she act as if HE was the one to betray the other. The audacity. The gall! He'd like nothing more than to tear the self-righteous bitch's horns right out of her-

'Enough,' his shadow hissed in his head, startling him from his spiral. 'I told you to reign in your anger. Your weak control of your emotions will only get us in trouble.' Alastor's ear twitched in reluctant chastisement. 'Take a moment to calm yourself. Allow me to talk to her.'

His shadow cocked it's head to the side and stared back at Lilith. It's own smile was wide and eerie, even more so than Alastor's own. The day it had sewn his mouth into a constant smile, its own smile was forced upon it. He'd wondered more than once if it was the Mistresses own doing or if the magic that binds them together is what had done the trick. Either way, he'd taken a particular sick joy out of seeing it forced to always smile too.

'Come now, your majesty. Is the thought of a truce between the four of us so preposterous?' It hissed out loud. 'You and Alastor were once friends. Can an alliance not be formed once more?'

Lilith barked out a laugh, loud and grating. "Friends? We were never friends. Friendly, maybe. But even if he wasn't a back-stabbing selfish wretch, you made sure that any possibility of a true friendship between the two of us was impossible." Lilith plopped her chin into her hand that she had raised up and resting against the arm of the love seat. "You've always hated me, don't deny it. You made it quite obvious the day that Alastor and I met."

Lilith wasn't exactly wrong. His shadow had made it quite obvious the distaste it had for the Queen. It may have gotten better over the years at masking it, their joint seven-year imprisonment in the void notwithstanding, but it's distaste at Lilith had been surprising and jarring when Alastor first met her. It's not like his shadow was ever exactly cheery or friendly, but how vehemently it acted towards Lilith was strange. And it had always outright refused calling Lilith by any honorifics. To have it call her "your majesty" now was a very obvious ploy at appeasement.

Alastor looked at his shadow out of the corner of his eyes, watching as it stared back at Lilith. It was obvious, at least to himself, that it was trying to reign in its own anger. He hoped Lilith and her shadow didn't notice.

'You are not wrong,' it said, surprising both Alastor and Lilith. He wasn't expecting it to outright agree. 'I've never liked you. But that does not matter. Alliances can be made between those who don't like each other. As long as they have a common enemy, an agreement can be made.'

Lilith scoffed. "Yes, but when an alliance is based purely off of the idea of 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend' then that does not make for a very stable alliance. And besides, you can't possibly be suggesting that the Mistress is our shared enemy."

'And why not?' it asked, leaning forwards slightly but not leaving Alastor's side. 'Don't tell me that you, either of you,' it said as it looked down at Lilith's shadow. It only hissed back in response. 'Enjoy being chained to Her. NO one enjoys enslavement to Her.'

"No one enjoys enslavement, period," Lilith said with a sniff. "Some jailers are just worse than others."

'And She is the worst,' his shadow hissed ominously. 'Believe me.'

Lilith rolled her eyes. "You say it as if I am not very much aware."

'Because you are not,' it growled harshly. It grew a fraction larger, sneering at Lilith. 'You and he both think seven years is Hell.' Alastor's ear twitched in annoyance when his shadow indicated towards him with it's hand. Lilith and he made eye contact briefly before she returned her gaze to his shadow. 'Believe me when I say that you don't know what true torment is until you've spent decades, centuries, millennia in that cursed place with Her!'

The room darkened, if only briefly as his shadow lost control of its emotions. Seems that it wasn't as good at controlling its own emotions as it thought. But the darkness at the corners retreated almost as quickly as it appeared. If Alastor didn't know any better he could have sworn that his shadow took a deep calming breath to collect itself.

'You are already aware of at least a fraction of the terror that She can inflict. Imagine how much worse things will be if you are forced to endure her torture for longer?' His shadow hissed in a far more subdued tone.

Lilith sat there, staring back at it in silence for several moments. She fidgeted minutely, betraying her nervousness. Her shadow practically whined at her feet, whether in response to her emotions or in agreeance to his shadow's words, he did not know. But it was the same twisted remains of a human soul. He had no doubt that the level of torture that his shadow has suffered through was something it had suffered through too.

"I will not have to endure that level of torment if I only do as She says," said Lilith, finally. "If I continue to be obedient then there is nothing to worry about."

'And what happens when She asks you to do something that you do not wish to do?' His shadow hissed. 'Because believe me, She will.'

Lilith frowned. "You act as if She already hasn't. I know what's at stake. Don't think you can try and intimidate me."

His shadow gave out a cruel laugh, sending shivers down his spine. 'I'm not talking about the deal that you had originally made to chain yourself. As cruel and terrible as that deal was, you have no idea the sort of things She will demand of you.'

That peaked Alastor's interest. He'd wondered in the past what sort of deal the Queen of all Hell could have made that ended with her soul being owned by the Mistress. It sounded like just like Alastor's own deal, it had surprise stipulations. He traded his soul away for power in order to kill his father. And then She demanded he kept killing for Her, delivering torn souls to Her when he killed them. Lilith had to have gained something from Her in exchange for her soul, but he never figured out what. On top of that though, it sounded like she had been asked to do something terrible. And his shadow knew what. It hissed inside his mind.

The flames in the fireplace grew in size, raging with Lilith's own anger. It appeared that whatever she had been demanded to do still effected her. How interesting.

His shadow hissed, almost gently, soothingly. 'One day, without fail, She will ask you to hurt someone that you can't live without. She will demand you betray them. And you will be expected to obey or face the consequences.'

Alastor's attention shot towards his shadow. It's voice, it sounded far more gentle than he had ever heard it. It sounded as if it spoke from experience and not just in regard to it's knowledge of what Alastor had been demanded to do regarding Vox. What had it been ordered to do?

'If you don't believe me, just ask your own shadow.'

Lilith's head whipped down towards her shadow, looking at it in shock and question. It shrunk back, trying to hide away from everyone's attention being on it. From Alastor's experience with his own shadow he could tell it seemed sad. No, heartbroken.

"Darling?" Lilith said. Her voice was filled with tender care. Alastor knew she had always had a better relationship with her shadow versus him with his, but her voice sounded like how a loving mother would speak to their sad or hurt child.

After several seconds of silence it finally said, 'They're right. She asked me to hurt someone that I cared for more than anything. I didn't want to do it. I swear I didn't,' it whined, looking up at Lilith, practically pleading with its vacant eyes for her to believe it. 'But I had to,' it said in a hissing whisper. 'I had to!' it said more urgently. 'But I didn't want to. Oh Lord, I never wanted to!' It pulled away from her feet, drawing up and towards the ceiling, looking up as it screeched. 'Please Lord! I swear! I'm so sorry!'

Alastor watched wide eyed as Lilith got to her feet and tried to calm her shadow down all the while her shadow wailed. It didn't seem to hear her as she cooed and told it she believed it, she knew it was sorry. Alastor's own shadow watched the whole display in silence. It didn't seem to be enjoying the despair, however.

After several minutes, Lilith finally was able to coax the shadow down and into her lap. It curled up in her lap like a wounded and terrified dog, desperate for affection and protection from its master. Lilith stared down at it with sadness, stroking its head gently. The display made Alastor feel uncomfortable. He could never imagine him and his own shadow doing such a thing, let alone in reverse. His shadow's head twitched a fraction towards him before returning to looking at Lilith.

'That's the future you will be facing,' his shadow eventually said when the silence stretched on. 'Immense overwhelming guilt should you follow through, or an unfathomable amount of time in the void, at Her mercy.' It turned it's head fully towards Alastor. 'And that's the choice he faces now too.'

Alastor whipped his head towards it. He knew that the truth would have to be revealed to Lilith, his attachment to Vox. They had to convince her to help them save him and keep it from the Mistress that they were all working together. But to have such a vulnerability revealed to her was still grating. When Alastor turned from his shadow it was to see Lilith staring back at him, assessing.

'She demands he kill the other Overlord,' his shadow said on his behalf. 'Vox.'

Lilith shook her head in disbelief. "Then kill him," she said. "Don't try and tell me that he actually cares for him, another Overlord no less. He doesn't care for anyone," she said bitterly.

Alastor's hand wrapped around his cane tightened as he narrowed his eyes at her but he kept quiet. For once he trusted his shadow to handle the situation.

'He does though,' it said. 'You know She has ordered him to kill the television multiple times over the years and yet still the Overlord remains alive. Why do you think that is? And why do you think he doomed me and him to seven years in the void?'

Lilith frowned, looking back at Alastor. She continued to stroke the head of her shadow soothingly. She still didn't look convinced.

'Like your own shadow can feel every emotion and hear every thought you have, so can I him,' his shadow hissed. 'I knew before even he did how deeply he cared for the other.'

Which still annoyed him to no end. But now wasn't the time to rehash that hurt, he told himself. Instead he forced himself to remain quiet and put on an air of sincerity. He stared back at Lilith and with great difficulty did not resort to lashing out at her. Finally, after several seconds she sighed.

"Perhaps you're right. Alastor does care for this television Demon and cares for him enough to refuse Her and be banished to the void. What does that matter to me?" she asked. "If the two of you get sent to the void again then that's all the better for me. Two less nuisances for me to worry about.

'That's where you're wrong,' came the hissed response. 'You'll be left alone, without any allies. What happens when She asks you to hurt and betray one of your loved ones?' It cocked it's head to the side and drew slowly closer to her. 'Perhaps your daughter.' Lilith shot a glare at it, the fire blazing for a moment. 'Or your husband.' Lilth's hand on her shadows head paused. 'Oh yes, I know you still love and care for him. You may act as if you don't but it's your way of trying to protect him. You think by pushing him away it'll be safer for him. You're trying to do the same with your daughter but it's too hard, isn't it?' His shadow stopped right before Lilith and it said softly, 'It's always hard when you try to deliberately hurt your own child.'

Lilith's face twisted into a sneer, her teeth bared as she glared up at Alastor's shadow. "I would NEVER intentionally hurt my daughter. Never!"

'And should She ask you too?' Lilith couldn't hide her flinch. 'Then you know what will happen. You'll find yourself trapped in the void, severed from your shadow, lost to her torture for countless years. If she ever allows you a fraction of freedom, you'll find yourself so twisted that even you won't recognize yourself. You'll just be another one of her shadows, desperate for any sort of light that you will do things that you previously thought unthinkable.'

Lilith looked away and gazed at the fireplace. There was real fear there, dancing in her eyes that she was trying to conceal but it was clear that Alastor's shadows words scared her. In all honesty, they scared him too. Should he not follow through with Her demands then he shared the same fate. He swallowed thickly.

"What are you proposing?" Lilith asked. That was good. It was more progress than he had genuinely thought they would get.

'Should the Mistress ask, tell her that Alastor is making genuine attempts on Vox's life and that he is committed to Her. Convince Her that his injury is not as bad as you previously thought and that while he is still dying, he is not yet about to perish. Convince Her that he is obeying but help us find a way to save him.'

Lilith furrowed her brows and stared at him suspiciously. "'Convince Her that his injury is not as bad as previously thought'? I know you're dying. You were practically on deaths door only a couple weeks ago." She narrowed her eyes. "Why are you no longer?"

Alastor fidgeted in his seat slightly. He shot his shadow a look but it did not speak up. He supposed honesty was in order. "Because I received an antidote. I'm practically fully healed now."

"What? How?" she demanded.

"Vox," he said with a twitch of his ear. "He managed to find a way to recreate the spilled antidote that you sabotaged." He couldn't help the accusing tone. His shadow stared at him in warning.

Lilith still stared at him in suspicion. "I don't believe you. Show me."

Alastor's nose scrunched up in annoyance. That was the second time now that someone had demanded to see his wound, his weakness, to confirm he was healed. Even without the wound he would have bristled at the demand of him to do anything, let alone put himself in a state of undress in front of another. 'Do it,' his shadow hissed in his mind. 'Prove to her that you are strong.'

Fine, he thought. With great reluctance, he unbuttoned his shirt just far enough to show his scarred chest to her. Her eyes widened in shock and a small part of him felt pride in proving her wrong. "See," he said with a sniff as he buttoned his shirt back up. "All healed. I don't need you antidote anymore."

Lilith recovered from her shock quickly and frowned. "You do know I could just go directly to Her now and tell her this. Tell Her that you are healed and refusing to obey Her. She'd have the two of you dragged to Her pit at a moments notice, kicking and screaming."

Alastor gripped his cane tightly, a growl caught just at the back of his throat at the threat. But his shadow hissed a warning in his head before he could jump to action.

'You could,' it hissed to Lilith. 'But you won't. Just like we need help in protecting the television, some day you'll need help protecting your loved ones.'

Lilith sat there steaming in barely contained anger, looking between Alastor and his shadow. Whatever she was searching for she clearly didn't like what she found because she sneered and said, "And who's to say that this isn't all some sort of trick? The Mistress is demanding you test my loyalty to Her and should I fall for it I'm the one that gets dragged to the void." She got to her feet, startling her shadow as it fell back into her seat once she vacated it. "But I will not fall for his promise of friendship or an alliance or whatever the Hell you want to call this. Not again! Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. No, I will not fall for this."

Lilith began to cross the room, making her way towards the door to her room. Alastor got to his feet as well, staring at her in rage. It was Hell and he knew that there were so many with huge egos who could not look past their own selves and interests. But Lilith's own narcissistic view and delusional impression of how things fell apart between them, it boiled his blood. She was the one who resorted to torturing him first in the void. She was the one who gave into Her in order to save herself a small amount of pain. She couldn't seriously blame him for doing the same thing? Alastor took a single step towards her, seething, when his shadows icy voice broke the tension.

'You never change, do you?' It hissed. Lilith froze. 'Always so self-centered. You never could see past your own selfish desires. You and your husband always thought you knew what was best, didn't you?' The bitterness was rolling off it's nonexistent tongue. Lilith turned slightly to stare at the shadow over her shoulder. 'But not once have you ever truly known what was best. You're just as foolish and stupid as the rest of us, stumbling through life and trying to do your best but failing. But you, your majesty, have always thought yourself above the rest of all us other Sinners and because of what? You were the first Sinner to arrive in Hell? Well let me remind you, Lilith,' it said, spitting venom from each word. 'You were never the first Sinner.'

Lilith stared wide-eyed back at it, almost as if she had seen a ghost. Her reaction seemed odd. Did the two of them know each other? Had they met in the past?

"Who are you?" Lilith asked in a whisper.

Alastor's shadow drew close to her, meeting Lilith's eyes. Lilith's own shadow slithered closer but still remained at a distant, almost hesitant. It seemed just as confused as he was.

'You spoke of my immediate hatred for you earlier,' Alastor's shadow hissed. It leaned forward, placing a single ghostly hand onto Lilith's cheek. 'I think it's rather obvious, don't you, Lil?'

Lilith gasped loudly, rearing back as if his shadow had struck her. She brought a shaking hand up to her mouth, clutching it with a bruising grip. Her shadow reared up in alarm but unsure of how to proceed. Alastor didn't know either and looked at his shadow in concern. Had it just shattered any chance they had of gaining Lilith's support? Would she immediately run to the Mistress and reveal all? Would they have to fight her in order to stop her?

His shadow drew near again, crowding Lilith's space. She retreated and was only stopped by the wall behind her. She stared at his shadow with wild eyes as she shook.

'You owe me,' it hissed. 'You MORE than owe me. After everything you've done?' It got into Lilith's face. 'The least you can do is lie for him and work to protect his friend.'

Lilith shot wild eyes towards him before looking back at his shadow. She slowly lowered her hand from her mouth. "If She f-finds out, you know it won't just be me and my shadow She will punish. And She'll find out eventually. There's only so long I can tell Her that Alastor is trying to kill the Overlord before She'll either expect to collect his soul or his friends. And it's not like we're the only one's She owns. There are others on her leash in Hell. It would be easiest if Alastor just took care of him and ended his friends life."

"Not an option," he growled out. Lilith's shoulders drooped.

'Allow us to worry about that,' his shadow said. 'We will find a way to convince Her that it is in Her best interest to keep the television alive. Until then, you will keep this a secret that we have no intention of killing him.'

Lilith gulped but eventually gave a shaking nod.

'Good,' it purred. It pulled back, no longer looming over the Queen. She relaxed marginally before quickly taking a step towards the door and grabbing the handle. 'And Lilith,' it said as she pulled the door open. 'When She asks the same of you, to hurt the ones you love. We will be there to help,' it said gently.

Lilith's brows furrowed as she stared at his shadow before she made a quick exit, nevermind that this was her own room.

The flames crackled behind Alastor, the only sound filling the silence. So much had happened and this meeting went a completely different way than he had ever expected.

'Your plan to intimidate her was never going to work,' his shadow hissed out loud. It didn't have any of the usual edge to it, however. It's back was still to Alastor. 'It's never wise to threaten a mothers child. Any loving mother would tear you apart at the mere suggestion of harming their baby. With all Lilith's faults, she loves her daughter more than anything.'

Alastor frowned. "You intended on going this route the entire time then."

'I never intended on revealing so much,' it said. 'I had hoped she would be reasonable and decide to ally herself with us but I figured that was asking for too much.' It sighed. 'Of course she needed extra convincing.'

Alastor watched his shadow as it continued to float there, facing the door to Lilith's room. His shadow seemed dejected. He took a couple quiet steps towards it, unsure of what to do.

Finally, he asked the same question that Lilith had asked. "Who are you, really?"

It's head moved towards him and a single vacant eye peaked over its shoulder, gazing at Alastor. 'You never concerned yourself with who I was before,' it said, echoing it's words from earlier. 'You need not now.'

Before Alastor could respond his shadow dissolved into darkness, coming to rest beneath him as a normal shadow. He knew it could still hear his thoughts and was following his racing mind as he pondering everything that had happened. But there was no hissed response or twitch of his shadow. It was ignoring him and he knew not to expect any sort of response.

But then he thought of Vox and how his shadow had effectively secured Lilith's cooperation in at least keeping the Mistress off his back for the time being. She wasn't a worry in the moment which meant Alastor could put his full focus towards keeping Vox safe. While the Mistress was still a looming threat, there was a much more immediate one that needed to be handled.

Alastor couldn't wait to engage in some pest control. And maybe, just maybe, She would be happy with acquiring one Overlord's soul for another's.

Notes:

In 1936:

Xavier (Vox) is 31
Grace is 31

 

Historical facts for this chapter:

The Great Depression is still going on and doesn't end until 1939.

The Tommy Dorsey Orchestra's recording of "Alone" was released in 1936. The song was originally performed by Allan Jones and Kitty Carlisle in the 1935 Marx Brothers film A Night at the Opera.

 

Welp. This is kind of a moment I've been waiting for for a while. The moment where Vox, or Xavier at the time, is first kind of showing signs of that darkness that leads to him being damned. Granted it's because he's upset on his sisters behalf but still, strangling your own mother is going to effect you in a negative way. It's something we know he's capable of, killing someone else on behalf of a loved one. It's already been discussed how he helped Velvette murder the person who murdered her when she first arrived in Hell. And at the time he didn't really even know her. But here he is, faced with the possibility that his own mothers actions led to Olivia's death. Would Olivia have survived if she had any of those surgeries? Who knows. It doesn't matter in the end because the possibility is there and that's enough for Vox (Xavier) to lose it and nearly kill her. There will be more of that darkness to come!

And oh man, Lilith and Alastor's shadow! So fun! I really wanted this chapter to kind of have a focus on mothers. We already know that Alastor's shadow is a woman and a mother and now she kind of has this connection with Lilith and tells Alastor that any good mother would lose their shit if someone tried to threaten their child. Alastor's shadow knew that Alastor's original plan of trying to get Lilith to help by threatening Charlie and stating that the Mistress had sent them there to kill her would backfire. However, his shadow knew that that worry, which was already there, could be utilized. Make Lilith think it's a looming threat and use that to help convince her to their side. I liked the idea of having these two mother's, who clearly love their children, be a stark contrast to Vox's own shitty mother.

Thanks again for everyone's continued support through this now year long story writing process. I hope you guys all liked this chapter. And as always, stay tuned until next time!

Chapter 23: An Alligator Club and Another Tea Party

Summary:

It's 1921 and then 1923. Alastor contemplates a decision regarding Detective Taylor that he has refused to consider until now, and then he meets Mimzy's latest employees at the Alligator Club.

In the present, Rosie arrives at the hotel and then the Vee's decided maybe it is time for a party.

Notes:

Hey, I'm back! Been WAY longer than I wanted it to be for this update but been very busy and stressed at work. The good news is the coming month I don't have as much planned and this next chapter I've been excited to write so I think it shouldn't take me super long. For whatever reason this one just took a while.

TW for this chapter: canon typical discussions of murder/corpses, discussions/allusions to abuse

1921

Alastor parked along the side of the empty roadway, shooting a suspicious look around his surroundings to ensure he was there alone. Thankfully his shadow at his feet was able to offer a far more inconspicuous and thorough surveillance of his surroundings. His latest prey was in the trunk of his car, and he really didn’t need his other "shadow" catching him.

Detective Taylor had been following Alastor off and on for approximately two and a half years now, conducting raids of his studio and home. Both searches yielded no evidence that could connect Alastor to the Smiling Killer’s murders, outside of the obvious signs of his connection to both Father Boaz and Mr. Ainsley. But Detective Taylor already knew that.

The only thing that kept the Alligator Club from being raided was Alastor handing the place over to Mimzy in 1919. He had never really had much of an interest in running the place, happily allowing his mother to handle everything. Not to mention he never wanted to own the establishment in the first place, but Mimzy had convinced him to do so. With his mother’s death he was more than happy to hand it over to the woman and just in time too. Prohibition started not long after in 1920 and if the place had been raided by the police then it wouldn’t have just been Alastor being hauled away in handcuffs.

Alastor opened up the trunk of his car, revealing the tightly wrapped corpse of his latest sacrifice to Her. He hoisted the body over his shoulder and slowly carried the heavy body into the thick trees. He made sure to keep an eye on his feet for any dangerous animals or unexpected dips in the terrain.

His trek wasn’t long before he came upon one of his boats that had once been meant to travel to and from his mother’s cabin. Since her death, he only needs one to stay at the normal dock. The other he now moves to different spots all around the bayou, hidden from sight and laying in wait for him to need use of it once more.

He dropped the corpse unceremoniously into the boat, heaving in a couple great lungful’s of air after the strenuous exercise.

‘You’d think you wouldn’t be so out of breath after how many times you’ve done this,’ came the hissed response in his head.

Alastor scowled. “You COULD help carry them with me, you know. And besides, this one was larger than most. Gorged himself on rich and expensive meals one to many times.”

‘Seeing as your movements aren’t as free as they once were, having someone keep an eye out while you carry out the Mistresses demands seems prudent.’

Yeah, yeah, it’s the same response each time. Lazy spirit, he thought. He was the one doing all the dirty work. The least it could do is help carry the damned body.

‘Not a spirt,’ it growled. ‘And you know that. And besides, if you wanted additional help then perhaps I could devote more of my focus to carrying dead weight instead of making sure you are not followed if you would just take care of the damned problem,’ came the hissed reproach.

Alastor scowled. They’d been over this multiple times now. The detective’s soul was sufficiently dark, if only barely. But it was enough for him to go to Her should Alastor kill the man. And yet he hesitated.

The detective would not be in Alastor’s sights if it wasn’t for the man simply doing his job. There were more then enough people who had been killed by the Smiling Killer for the hunting of the serial killer to be a priority for the New Orleans Police Department. Granted, Alastor always chose those who were scourges on his city but there were a fair number of them who were the rich and powerful. Many of which were white. Of course, the Mayor and Governor would want the Smiling Killer’s head. Detective Taylor was just a pawn.

‘A very dangerous pawn,’ came the hiss. ‘One that could take away your freedom in more than one way.’

Incarceration in an American prison was just the tip of the iceberg. The Mistress demanded souls. Dark souls. And if Alastor was imprisoned, he would have more than his fair share of dark souls to pick from. But he could sustain Her appetite by killing other inmates for only so long. Alastor would eventually be put in isolation, indefinitely.

‘And then She will come to collect your soul instead,’ his shadow hissed, staring at Alastor with narrowed gaping eye sockets. ‘You think the threat of imprisonment in your mortal prison would be a nightmare? You have no idea what would be in store for you if you are to fail Her.’

Either permanent death or the Void. His shadow has spoken of it with a fearful edge to its voice. It was unlike anything he had heard from it before. It was clear that his shadow had experienced the Void.

Alastor stared curiously at his shadow as he continued to row. “Are you…from the Void?” he asked cautiously. His shadow wasn’t exactly known for being forth coming with information but the Void was something he wanted, no needed, to know more about. If being sent there was a possible threat, he needed to know more.

His shadow gave a growling scoff. ‘Nothing is from the Void. Not even Her.’

Alastor frowned. “But you’ve been there.” It wasn’t a question. The answer was obvious and yet it didn’t make sense to him. Why would She send one of her minions to the Void?

His shadow trilled before him, the noise a cross between irritation and disbelief. ‘So young. So foolish,’ it hissed before fixing its gaze back on him. ‘You worry about what possible future awaits you should you fail Her.’ It leaned forward, looming over the corpse and getting into Alastor’s face. ‘Take a good long look, child, for I am your future. A twisted shell of what I once was.’

Alastor’s brows furrowed in confusion. He shook his head slowly, not quite understanding or rather not wanting to.

‘Oh yes, child,’ it growled. ‘Don’t turn away from the truth that you know. You’ve always wondered at the back of your mind what I truly was. You knew from the very first moment you met me that I was not one of your Spirits. Your Lwa. But a Demon I am. But what does that mean exactly, you’ve wondered. Am I some creature, created in Hell like the weak Imps and Hellhounds? No,’ it hissed ominously. ‘You know what I am. On some level, you’ve always known.’

Alastor swallowed thickly and looked away, unable to stare into the vacant yet piercing eye sockets any longer. His gaze fell to the corpse laying at his feet, still wrapped up and concealed from his view. And yet he knew what sight lay beneath.

‘Yes child,’ came the purring hiss. ‘I was once just like him. And just like you.’ He felt a wispy yet almost gentle hand stroke his hair. He shivered.

He took a rattling breath as he stared at the corpse. He stared into his possible future. Dead with his soul sent directly to Her. Torn apart and no longer whole. But his other possible future sat directly across from him. Dark and twisted, a mere shade of what it once was. Both were possible futures if he should fail Her. He really did not want to fail Her.

‘And you won’t if you kill the detective,’ came the anticipated reply. ‘He is too close. End him.’

But killing an officer of the law who was watching him, suspicious of him, was dangerous too. If Detective Taylor were to die, there would just be another person to replace him. And at this point the police force was more than aware of Alastor being the prime suspect in the Smiling Killer case.

‘Then you will eliminate them too,’ said his shadow forcefully. ‘You must eliminate any threat there is to you and your freedom or face repercussions from Her!’

Is that to be his life then? Killing one detective after another? Surely he would be investigated even more. What then? Would he have to flee? Flee the entire state? This was his home, regardless of feeling welcome or not. He would not leave.

‘How stubborn. How prideful,’ sneered his shadow. ‘You men are all the same. Ridiculous.’

Perhaps, he thought. But his mind had not changed. He would not resort to killing Detective Taylor. Not unless he absolutely had to.

The boat came to a stop once Alastor stopped rowing. He had pulled himself up to one shoreline and on the opposite were several alligators, some on land while others were submerged except for the tops of their heads. Some of the alligators shifted upon noticing the small boat, no doubt anticipating the meal they knew he would provide. This wasn’t the first time he’s done this.

Alastor hoisted the body up and dragged it out of the boat onto land. He began to unwrap the blanket surrounding the corpse, revealing the wide bloody grin etched into the man’s face. Another rich and powerful white man, one who purported himself as a devote Christian but was anything but. He just didn’t like the more paganistic religions that he saw as barbaric and “evil”. He had given Priestess Maxine and her followers more than enough troubles from what Alastor heard. One young boy had even gone missing for a couple of days before showing up on his mother’s doorstep, naked and unwilling to say a single word. All knew where he had been and what had been done though. Priestess Maxine had made prayers to the Lwa, begging for protection and justice.

No Lwa may have answered but Alastor had. He seriously doubted that the sort of justice he provided would be anything Priestess Maxine would abide by though. Good thing she was unaware then.

He stared down at the dead man for several more moments, remembering the terrified yet muffled screams as Alastor carved into the still living man’s face. “What’s the matter”, he had said. “No smile for me? Tell me, was the young boy smiling when you violated his body as well?” And then Alastor had taken great pleasure in penetrating the man’s stomach with his knife. Justice wasn’t the name of the game; he didn’t fool himself into thinking that anymore. Vengeance was far sweeter anyways.

‘Why do you do it?’ asked his shadow. It sounded contemplative. ‘The smile. This isn’t one that you leave to be found. The alligators will eat it soon enough.’ The creatures lay just out of reach, waiting in anticipation but keeping their distance from the dark presence they could feel. They never got close to Alastor. Not once. ‘So, the smile is for no one else but yourself.’

Why does he do it? He had killed several people before that first time he carved the smile into Ainsley’s face. It was meant as a way to mock the man and his incessant smiling. It had aggravated Alastor. And then he kept it up as a way to scare others in the city, make a name for himself if you will. The reputation of the Smiling Killer was somewhat of a thrill, knowing that the seedy underbelly of New Orleans feared him and whoever he would target next. But then Father Boaz came along, and he stopped for over a year. Not the killings of course, just carving the smile into their faces. All the bodies he killed he gave to Father Boaz and allowed him to use their meat. But then Father Boaz betrayed him and the urge to carve the smile returned.

Why did he do it, he wondered? Even as most of the bodies he killed now he gave to the bayou. He still left the occasional dead body in the city where it will be found. He had thought abruptly stopping the killings after the sudden return of the Smiling Killer would have been suspicious due to Detective Taylor’s interest in him. The only victims he left in the city were those Alastor was sure had no possible connection back to him though. This latest victim was a known hater of those who practiced Voodoo. Since Alastor’s mothers’ death he had rebuilt tentative connections with them. As such this man would feed the alligators.

And yet…he still carved the smile.

“You know,” said Alastor slowly, fingering the sharp knife in his pocket. “My mother always used to say you’re never fully dressed without a smile. Ainsley too.” He shrugged. “I’m stripping these people bare. Taking the most intrinsic part of themselves and ripping it away from them. If they can’t have their soul, perhaps they should at least be able to wear a smile.”

‘And you think they deserve even that?’

“Perhaps not,” said Alastor. He then smiled, a smile that he didn’t truly feel but he forced himself to wear. “But so many of these souls used their smiles to hide their true intentions. They manipulated their own victims into a false sense of security and took advantage of countless others. And then when I do the same none of them wear that same sickening smile. It’s only fair that I force them to wear it after they deprived their victims of the basic right to smile.”

Alastor looked up and stared back at his shadow, still wearing the false smile. Smiling had never come naturally to him except for when he was with his mother. Mimzy and Father Boaz to an extent would occasionally be graced with one of his smiles but never the big one, never the one his mother said she so loved. Maybe it was time to start wearing them. His prey always used their smiles to fool others into think them predators. Why not him?

His shadow did not respond. He could not tell if it found him foolish, well of course it always did, or if it found him disturbed. But then again of course he was disturbed too. He’d been attached to this Demon, this twisted facsimile of a human, since he was little more than a child. Anyone would be dementated after that.

Alastor got to work cutting up the body and throwing the parts into the water. The alligators fought amongst themselves to get a taste but still remained at a distance, too afraid to get close. Once done he lit a fire to burn the now ruined blanket, eliminating any remaining evidence. He watched the alligators fight over the body parts until they had settled down and went back to lounging in the water and on land.

His shadow was silent as he rowed back, hiding in the darkness. Once back at his normal spot he roped the boat off, hiding it as best as he could, before making the short trek back to his car. What he really needed right now was a nice glass of rye and a distraction. Music would do. He supposed a trip to the Alligator Club was in order. Mimzy always knew how to take his mind off of things.

He hoped into his car and absentmindedly made his way to the Alligator Club. While prohibition had made running any sort of establishment difficult, he will say one benefit was the fact that the hours of operation seemed to be any time the sun was down. Which was wonderful for him when he was “working” late.

Alastor parked his car just down the street where several other cars lined the street. Storyville had ended some years back, and the Alligator Club had been located just a couple blocks away. That didn't mean that the area didn't still cater to more illicit forms of entertainment. There was more than one person wondering the streets even at this time of night as a result. Unfortunately, prostitutes and those engaging in illegal activity weren’t the only ones.

As soon as Alastor stepped out of his car and shut the door he heard a man call to him. He tensed and his shadow hissed in his mind.

“Ahh, Mr. Augstin! A surprise seeing you here.” Detective Taylor leaned up against his own car that was parked just across the street. Clearly it was no surprise.

Alastor shoved his hands into his pockets, worried about any possible lingering blood that may be there. He then plastered on his biggest winning smile that he hoped seemed genuine enough. “Detective Taylor, a bit late isn’t it? And lingering on the edges of what was once the District. One might talk.”

Detective Taylor chuckled. “My presence here is more common than you might think. There’s a fair number of murderers that linger around here, as I’m sure you are aware.”

Alastor raised a single eyebrow, unimpressed with the weak attempt at getting a rise out of him. “Hhm, I’m sure there are. I trust that you would let me know if there are any close by. I would hate to be caught unawares.”

“A strong strapping young man like you? I’m sure you can handle yourself,” said Detective Taylor. Yet another weak attempt at a barb. Either the detective was being lazy or he wasn’t trying for any real reaction. Which begged the question of why he was here.

“Why are you here, Detective Taylor,” he asked, cutting to the chase.

“From my understanding this is a frequent haunt of yours, even after selling to your…friend.” He said the word ‘friend’ with no small amount of a sneer. It was clear what the detective thought of Mimzy and what he thought of who Mimzy was to Alastor. When he gave the club to Mimzy she had explained to him what people might think. He didn’t much care though and he still didn’t, despite the implications. Still he didn’t like thinking of Mimzy and him in…that way.

“Mimzy is a dear friend and the food is good.” He gave a nonchalant shrug.

“Even after the death of the former chef?” Now that one stung. Alastor narrowed his eyes at the detective, just barely restraining himself from rising to the bait. Detective Taylor smiled, noticing the effect. “You know I’ve never actually tried any of the food here. I think it’s time, don’t you?”

The detective then turned and began walking towards the entrance, the front one and not the one that most frequented now in the back.

‘Careful,’ warned his shadow. ‘You are playing with fire. Extinguish it before it gets out of hand.’

Detective Taylor stopped at the front door, turning at waiting for Alastor to follow. Now that he was here he couldn’t very well leave without being more suspicious. Fine, he’d play along.

‘Just don’t get burned.’

Alastor stepped through the doors Detective Taylor was holding open for him. The host at the front desk gave him a confused look when he saw Alastor walk through the front doors instead of the back at this time of night. Alastor gave a small shake of his head and the host then noticed the detective trailing behind him. The hosts eyes widened fractionally before he was able to school his expression.

“Mr. Augustine, a pleasure to be serving you again. Shall I set a table for one or two this evening?”

“Two it would seem, Robert.”

The host nodded and directed them to a small table with a view of the street outside, as far away from one of the discreate entrances leading down below. Alastor silently applauded the hosts foresight.

Once alone, Detective Taylor began perusing the menu. “So what’s good here? Any recommendations?”

“The jambalaya is to die for.”

“Hhm. I suppose I’ll have to try that then, won’t I?” He gave a wide smile to Alastor, and he could feel his eye twitch. Yet another smile being used as a mask. For a brief moment he thought of how easy it would be to carve a bloody smile permanently into his wrinkled face.

Alastor smiled back. “I think you should.”

The waiter came and took their orders, two jambalayas and water, nothing else. The alcohol was elsewhere. How irritating.

“So tell me Detective, how many nights have you stayed outside the Alligator Club waiting for me to show up?” asked Alastor with an innocent look.

“This was the first one,” said Detective Taylor casually. “You had your evening broadcast earlier today than usual. Whenever you do that, you tend to come here late into the evening. Begs the question, why you feel it’s necessary and what you do in-between. Some sort of strenuous activity between the two that requires a bit of…refreshments afterwards?”

Alastor stiffened in his seat. He knew the detective had been watching him but to have his schedule known so intimately by another, and one he wished very much not to have to see, was grating. While he knew no one had followed him out into the Bayou, if they had Alastor would already be in handcuffs, it still made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

“Now, now, detective. I am a typical southern gentleman. Implying such things is highly improper.” Alastor stamped down on the discomfort at implying the “strenuous activity” he engaged in was more on the carnal side. Although he supposed it was still carnal, just in a different way.

Detective Taylor raised his eyebrows a fraction, caught off guard slightly. “If I were to suggest such a thing, I would assume it would be with Ms. Margaret. From my understanding she’s about the only other person you spend any significant amount of time with. You don’t exactly have many friends, Mr. Augustine.”

“I don’t see much reason to.”

“No, I suppose not. Far too many end up losing their life when they are close to you. Don’t they?” he said pointedly.

Alastor was saved from thinking of an immediate answer when their food arrived. Robert must have spoken with the staff in the back and arranged to have the food out quicker than most. He’ll have to talk with Mimzy about giving that man a raise.

“You may have a point there,” he relented after taking a couple of bites. “I do find some hesitation towards getting close to others. It is deeply painful losing those close to us.”

Detecitve Taylor hummed. “Quite.” He took a couple bites himself and then groaned. “My, my, you weren’t kidding. This is delicious.”

Alastor couldn’t help a bit of smug pride at that. “Of course it is. It was my mother’s recipe.”

“A talented woman,” he said. “A true tragedy what happened to her. Tell me, did Detective Castain ever discover who killed her?”

“He’s one of your coworkers. I’d imagine you’d be more privy to such facts about her case,” Alastor responded with a clipped tone that he was not able to hide.

“There is unfortunately quite a few people who wind up dead or disappear in this city. It’s hard to keep track of all of them,” said Detective Taylor. “Why just tonight a man went missing. Reported by his wife due to him not arriving for a charity that he was hosting. They came from old money I believe. Planations from back in the day. Why, I do believe he had some problems with some Voodoo witch recently.” The rice and pork tasted like ash in Alastor mouth, making it difficult to swallow. Detective Taylor looked contemplative. “A Priestess Maxine, I believe.” He tilted his head and looked at Alastor, his face mockingly innocent. “You’re acquainted, yes?”

There was no point in denying it. The answer was obvious. The corners of Alastor’s smile felt heavy, hard to keep in place. “Hhm, yes. She and my mother knew each other. She performed the final rituals for my mother after she passed.”

Detective Taylor snapped his fingers and smiled. “Ahh, yes! That’s right. I knew I was familiar with the name somehow. I do hope she hasn’t got herself involved in anything she shouldn’t be. Or someone. That wouldn’t bode well for her and her community.”

Alastor dug the nails of his hand hidden underneath the table into the tops of his thighs. He’d taken that man’s body out into the bayou, where he would never be found again and yet still it was tied back to Alastor. No smiling face for Detective Taylor to find and yet still the man was suspicious.

‘It would be so easy,’ came the quiet hiss in his head. ‘So simple to slip your knife into his gullet underneath the shroud of night. Allow him to be the one stalked for once and relieve us of the problem.’

Alastor scowled at the detective and spat out, “Or maybe the man is just off between the thighs of one of the women just a couple blocks over. Men like him often aren’t so faithful or as pure as they make themselves out to be.”

“And what sort of man might that be? Rich? Influential? Two things that you are yourself, Mr. Augustine,” he said with a single raised brow. “Everyone knows the voice of the radio host Alastor, the most popular radio host in all of New Orleans. Nay, this part of the country. Your voice holds sway and power, not to mention you have deep pockets curtesy of your old mentor, Mr. Ainsley. How different are you really?”

Alastor leaned forward and hissed, “The difference is I don’t steal young boys away from their mothers and do whatever the Hell I want to them. I don’t traumatize them to the point of muteness and I don’t prey on the weak!”

Their table fell into silence as the two stared back at each other. Detective Taylor looked at him with a thoughtful look. “No,” he said finally in a calm voice. “You don’t prey on the weak, do you?”

Alastor’s brows twitched, unsure of the conceding to Alastor’s point. Detective Taylor whipped a napkin at his mouth before throwing it onto the table next to his half empty plate of food. “I’ll admit, Mr. Augustine, that the victim’s of the Smiling Killer have all proven to be less than…virtuous, in one way or another. They’re all predators in their own right and the world is likely better off without them. Of course I’d deny it if you ever said I had said such a thing. But,” he paused as he pulled out his wallet, placing the money he owed there before standing up. “Their deaths are still murder. And my job is to find who murdered them. I must.”

“And why is that?” asked Alastor pointedly. “Because you’re so virtuous yourself that you’d do anything possible to find a killer who kills the impure?”

“No,” said the detective, surprising Alastor. “Because I’m anything but pure. I’ve done things over the course of my life that I’m not proud of. But every day I am trying to make up for that. Trying to be better. How ‘bout you, Mr. Augustine?”

He gave Alastor a meaningful look before turning and walking away without another word. Alastor watched the man walk down the street and climb into his car before starting to drive away.

Quick as a whip Alastor clambered to his feet and rushed out the door. He didn’t bother with paying, he was never charged ever since giving the establishment to Mimzy. He clambered into his car and took off to follow.

How dare he. How DARE that insolent self-righteous pig. His soul was dark, just like his shadow had reminded him repeatedly. How did he get off by acting all high and mighty when he was just like all the other pathetic souls he killed.

And what did he know about “being better”? It’s not like Alastor had a choice. He never had a choice after that first ill-fated decision he made with his shadow. Another twisted soul who had no choice. Who were they? What had they done to wind up like this? Did he even care? In the end, the truth was the same. Alastor and his shadow both had no choice but to kill.

‘Calm down,’ hissed his shadow. ‘You are too angry.’

“Weren’t you the one who kept telling me to kill him?” he ground out through clenched teeth.

‘Yes, but not like this, not in control of yourself.’ It floated next to him in the passenger seat, glaring at him out of the corner of his eye. ‘You must calm down and think this through. He is not like other sacrifices. His death would garner more attention than most.’

The death of an officer always gained a fair amount of attention, let alone by one who is investigating such a high-profile case. It’s just like Alastor was worried about; the police department would surely look at him. But then again after the many years of working as an officer, and someone with a sufficiently dark soul, surely he had gained other enemies. Was it so far out of the realm of possibilities that another would target the detective and wish him dead?

He followed the detective at a distance, making sure not to get too close. The detective was familiar with his vehicle so it would not due to get close enough to be spotted. Finally, they rounded the corner of a residential neighborhood where the detective pulled up to a house. There was a porch light on but nothing else. Alastor parked down the street and watched as he got out of his car. He thought about getting out now, rushing the man but whatever sense remained prevented him from doing so. Instead he watched.

Lights turned on as the detective made his way through his house. Turning off not long after. The light upstairs then turned on, presumably the man’s bedroom. He waited until he saw that light turn off too and then waited even longer. It would be for the best if he was asleep when Alastor went inside.

‘Or you come back another time, gain more information, and plan this out meticulously like normal.’ His shadow hovered close. ‘You are being reckless.’

Alastor ignored it. He was here now, why not act while he was here?

After waiting longer still he eventually got quietly out of his car and stalked towards the house. There was only so much darkness left, the sun would be rising soon. He tried the front door, but it was locked. He sneaked into the backyard and tried the door there. Ha, how foolish! One would think such a decorated detective would make sure his doors were all locked.

Alastor slowly walked inside, closing the door quietly behind him. There was the occasional creak from the floorboards as he made his way through the kitchen that he tried to avoid with slow deliberate steps. In the living room he found the stairs, leading up to his target. Despite himself, his heart hammered in his chest. As he approached the stairs, that’s when he noticed pictures hanging along the wall, leading up.

There were pictures of children. Three of them. Two girls and a boy. The youngest didn’t look older than four.

A hall light turned on upstairs, startling Alastor. He whipped his head around, looking for where to hide. There was a small closet underneath the stairs which he darted towards. Light footsteps drew close to the stairs, and he eased the door open as his heartbeat increased. He hid himself just in time in the small closet as he heard footsteps on the stairs.

There were cracks through a vent in the door that he was able to peek through. A young girl, the middle child, walked blearily past. She didn’t look much older than the youngest child. She walked into the kitchen, turning the light on there. He could hear the scraping of a chair dragged across the creaky floor, presumably pulled towards the sink where a faucet was turned on a moment later.

Then heavier footsteps were heard above Alastor, descending the stairs. Alastor watched with bated breath as Detective Taylor walked past, a gun hidden behind his back. Once at the threshold to the kitchen he sighed and any tension in his shoulders disappeared.

“Mary darling, what are you doing up?” He disappeared into the kitchen after placing the gun on a bookcase in the living room.

“I was firsty,” came the small childish voice.

“Come here darling. Let me help you.”

Alastor could hear as the chair was dragged away, far quieter than when a child did it. Shortly afterwards the detective exited the kitchen with the small child held in his arms who held her glass of water close to her chest. She let out a great big yawn and rubbed absentmindedly at her eyes.

“Come now, back to bed,” said Detective Taylor.

“Can you wead me a stowy?” she asked, leaning her head against her father’s shoulder.

“It’s late. Tomorrow night I will.” He began to walk up the stairs, leaving Alastor’s sight.

“But I had a nightmawe. A mean monsta’ gobbled you up,” the child said with a whine, innocent in its sincerity.

“A monster?” he asked with an edge of amusement in his voice. “That sounds scary. But there’s no monster darling. Nothing’s going to happen to daddy, I promise.”

The two descended further into the house, their voices trailing off. Alastor then quickly exited his hiding place and fled. Once outside he ran from the property and didn’t stop until he made it to his car.

He sat heaving as he stared back at the house. The room next to the detective’s bedroom was on which he assumed to be the young girls.

He thought back to the last victim he had killed where their loved one walked in on him. The man’s wife had fallen victim to Alastor’s hands, same as his target. If he had walked into Detective Taylor’s bedroom, would he have found his wife asleep next to him as well? Would their daughter have walked out of her bedroom to see Alastor standing there, staring at her father? The monster from her dreams.

Two other children lay upstairs, surely they would have woken up when their sister would have screamed in fright. Three innocent children and their innocent mother.

And then he thought of his very first victim, his own father. By killing him he’d left another young girl without a father. He thought of his sister who had to be a teenager, practically a young woman by now. How had her life been impacted without a father? It couldn’t have been easy, he knew from experience. It wouldn’t have been easy for the detective’s children either if he managed to kill the detective without alerting anyone.

Alastor shivered, leaning forward and resting his forehead against his steering wheel. He shut his eyes tight and swallowed down the bile he could feel rising.

‘I told you that you needed to be careful,’ came the reproach. ‘To rush in like that was unbelievably stupid. If you are patient and watch, then next time you’ll-’

“No,” he croaked out, leaning up and glaring at his shadow. “There won’t be a next time.”

‘Despite all your foolishness you finally realized that killing him is for the best. Just because his family was there doesn’t mean that-’

“I said no,” he said forcefully. “I already made up my mind. I will. Not. Kill. Him.”

His shadow stared back at him for several seconds. It then shook its head and looked away, relenting. ‘What a stupid child,’ it hissed. ‘Stubborn to a fault until your temper gets the best of you. One day it will get you in trouble. Mark my words.’
______________________________________________________
After Alastor’s meeting with Lilith, he had stumbled almost in a haze back to his own room. Things went far better than he had hoped, and he didn’t know how to feel about it. It felt a little too good to be true, having Lilith of all Demon’s ally themselves with him. His skin crawled at the reminder of their seven-years imprisonment together, white-hot shooting pain coursing through his entire body due to her magic. The Mistress’s overwhelming and suffocating presence at the back of his mind, laughing at his torment.

He shivered. Nope, he wasn’t back there anymore. He was out of the void and he had no intention of going back. And Lilith would finally be useful and help him.

That’s what he told himself over and over for the next several hours. He busied himself with working on his bayou and it was soothing, calming. He realized his nerves had been shot as of late, for weeks now, no for months. He hadn’t been the same since Adam’s near murder of him and he was only just now starting to feel like his old self. Rage boiled just under the surface like it always had but as of late it had been even worse. He felt rung out and ready to snap and had nearly done so on several occasions now. He needed a different sort of stress relief besides working on his bayou.

His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t consumed any sort of Sinner flesh in quite some time. His emotions always got out of control if he went too long without a hunt. One of the divine punishments he had to suffer. He had been a hunter in life, he killed disgusting animals and had even resorted to one of the biggest taboos in life, cannibalism. Of course, he would be required to continue to hunt and eat in order to keep up his strength while in Hell. Not for the first time, Alastor wondered if he had never met Jude, and never resorted to eating humans, how his punishment would have been different in Hell.

With his mind made up he locked up his room and made his way downstairs. His skin was crawling for an entirely different reason, excited anticipation. He couldn’t wait to feel his limbs elongate, snapping into place into his true Demonic form. He couldn’t wait to dig his claws into flesh, ripping and tearing and breaking. He couldn’t wait to feel a burst of blood on his tongue, gushing out of his victims abdomen as he bites down. He could feel saliva pooling in his mouth just at the thought.

His hungry desire was cut short, however, when he heard slightly raised voice from the front lobby.

“I assure you, Alastor is just fine!” That was Charlie’s voice, slightly raised in anxiety. “He’s not dead yet!” And then there was the nervous laughter.

Oh that was not good. Someone was here enquiring about his health it seemed, but who? There were only so many souls who knew about his weakened state and most of them already lived under this same roof. He didn’t have to wait long to wonder, however.

“I’m telling you dear, I need to see him to be sure. When I went to go see Vox he said-”

Rosie’s worried voice was cut off when Alastor rounded the corner, standing at the top of the stairs. Her eyes widened and a relieved smile broke out across her face. She picked up her skirts with one hand and rushed up to drag him into a bruising hug. With a strength that seemed uncharacteristic for a woman of her thin stacher, she lifted him off his feet as she continued to hug him.

“Oh, dearie I was so worried!” she said as she rubbed her cheek into his chest. “When Vox said he hit you with his electricity I feared the worst!”

“Wait, what?” cried Charlie in horror. “Why would Vox do something like that? He’s been trying to help save you! That doesn’t make any sense! When would he even have done that?”

Rosie thankfully put him back down on his feet, giving him a more subdued and sympathetic look when she realized her mistake. Vaggie stood beside Charlie with a gentle hand placed on her shoulder in an attempt to calm her down. Vaggie didn’t look exactly surprised at the revelation, just sad on her girlfriend’s behalf. Alastor shot Rosie a glare.

Rosie’s chastised expression shifted then and she scowled back at him, crossing her arms over her chest. “Yes well, he did tell me that he had also been technically defending himself when this one decided to show up on another Overlord’s turf unannounced and-”

“Oh, you mean rather like you have just done now?” he said in a clipped tone. He shot a quick look at the crowd they were gathering down on the main floor, all staring up at the two in various states of concern and curiosity. Rosie clearly wanted to say more, as she would later, but she decided to keep her mouth shut for the time being.

“Wait, hold on, I’m confused,” said Cherri bomb where she sat on a couch with her feet resting in Angel’s lap. “Did Alastor and Vox have some sort of battle again? I don’t remember seeing anything on Voxtagram. Usually, Velvette is all over broadcasting the fights, especially when Vox gets the upper hand. And if Rosie was all worried you’d up and died clearly he was the winner, am I right?”

She looked from Alastor’s pinched face to Angel’s which was resolutely avoiding her gaze. She frowned and looked towards the bar where Husk stood staring at Alastor with a deep scowl, not even pretending to clean an already clean glass. Nifty crouched down by Husk’s feet, her head whipping back and forth from Husk to Alastor at an incredible rate. If it wasn’t for her already erratic nature, Alastor would be worried she’d give herself whiplash.

“Angie?” she asked questioningly but he only hunched his shoulders up further shooting a quick and nervous look up to Alastor.

It seemed that at least Charlie and Vaggie hadn’t noticed it for Vaggie said, “I’d like to know that too. Because if one of our staff is getting into fights with another Overlord, one we have a tentative sort of alliance with, we need to know,” she said forcefully, glaring up at Alastor. “Especially if you’re starting these fights on their own territory. The last thing we need is some turf war between Overlord’s.”

Alastor bristled at the reprimand but reminded himself he DID technically strike first which had resulted in everything going so far south. He could practically feel Rosie boring a hole into the side of his head as she stared intensely at him while he tried to look anywhere but her way. But Rosie’s reproach and disappointment was one thing, he didn’t want or care for having it shot his way by any of these other low-lives. Charlie’s worried expression made his ear twitch. He couldn’t meet her gaze either.

“I assure you, there is no turf war coming our way. It was simply a little disagreement between old friends is all,” he said with his usual cheery voice. Rosie’s furrowed brows said she could see right through it. “There won’t be any further fights between us.”

“Truly?” asked Charlie hopefully. His heart panged.

“Yes, truly, Alastor?” asked Rosie, suspiciously.

His shoulders relaxed minutely, and he gave a stiff nod. “Yes,” he said without any hesitation. Well, at least he wouldn’t be starting any fights with Vox. He couldn’t say the same for Vox not starting any fights with him. The desperate and pleading tone he had as he forced the gun into Alastor’s hand rang through his mind.

“Splendid!” cried Rosie enthusiastically. Apparently, his definitive tone of voice was the exact thing she wanted to hear. She looped her arm through his and began leading him down the stairs. “I always did say how much I hated seeing the two of you fight. It’s good to know your explosive fights won’t be causin’ any of us other Sinners any more troubles. Oh the property damage alone! I remember this one fight between you two-”

She continued on her whirlwind of a ramble that she was so famous for, expertly shooting down Charlie’s attempts at interjecting and demanding more answers. She waved at Charlie with a smile, telling her how she should have her in Cannibal Town for some tea, before sweeping Alastor out the front doors and away from prying eyes.

Once the doors shut behind them it was like a switch; Rosie fell silent immediately and any trace of a smile vanished. They walked in silence for several seconds as Alastor shot wary looks towards her. “Rosie-” he began.

“Don’t,” she interrupted, her voice with a slight edge. “I don’t want to hear any excuses from you.”

His ears lowered slightly. He didn’t blame her for telling him as such but this time he truly wasn’t going to try and make any excuses. He knew that he had messed up more than once and it seemed that Rosie had found out so much of what had been going on with him through other sources. He knew she would be more than upset about that alone.

She patted his arm with her hand, almost placatingly. “We have a lot to talk about, don’t you worry, but right now you need to eat. You look positively starving and I just know you haven’t been taking care of yourself recently.” He had no doubt she meant more than just his lack of consuming Sinner meat. She had found out about tidbits about his injury from Charlie, and then Vox and Velvette. And by the sounds of things, she’d had an even more in-depth conversation with Vox about him that did anything but paint him in a positive light. He couldn’t exactly blame Vox, however.

“Are you able to transport us to Cannibal Town?” Rosie asked. He looked at her in surprise. So rarely did she ask to have Alastor use his shadows to transport the two of them. She said she preferred to take leisurely strolls with her dear friend but he knew that a small part of it was also due to the unpleasant feelings that shadow travel inflicted upon others. If she was asking for him to transport him then she must be very impatient to have their talk.

“Yes, of course,” he said.

“Your health isn’t too far gone that it wouldn’t be a hindrance to do so?”

Aww, he can see her question was two-fold then. She was gaging how injured he still was. “No,” he said with a sigh. “I am more than well enough to have full range of my powers. It will not harm me in any way.”

Rosie turned her head sharply to him. “You’re not lying to me again, are you?”

He huffed. “No. I am telling you the truth.”

Rosie hummed and stared at him for several seconds before relaxing. “You do seem to be in much better health then when I saw you last at that meeting. How’d you manage it? Vox said that you could barely stand on your own two feet when you showed up at his tower and yet you look the very picture of health!...well mostly.”

Alastor clucked his tongue in annoyance. “I thought you said eat first, talk later.”

Rosie rolled her eyes and came to a halt on the sidewalk. “Oh alright,” she said as she tightened her grip on his arm. “You win, mister. But you better eat everything I serve you. And answer all my burning questions once we’re done! No ifs, and's, or but's!” She sniffed, adjusting her dress. “Alright. I’m ready.”

The two quickly dissolved into shadows, reappearing a moment later in Rosie’s Emporium. The shop was thankfully closed so no one saw Rosie stumble as she bent over to regain her baring. It only took a couple of seconds before she stood up and said with a smile, “Lovely! Now the food! You go find your typical spot and make yourself comfortable while I go get everything. Go on, shoo! Leave everything else up to auntie Rosie.”

Alastor couldn’t help the softening of the edges of his smile, falling into a more sincere one at his dear friend. She was overbearing to say the very least, but she was always genuine. There were plenty of times over the years when she had reminded him of his mother. She’d kick him if he ever told her as such.

He took a seat at his usual spot. Usually there was a distant buzz of chatter and activity from all of the other cannibals coming in and out of Rosie’s Emporium. It was silent though, almost too silent without anyone here besides himself and Rosie. Rosie wasn’t known for closing up shop unexpectedly and he felt guilty when he wondered if he was the one to cause her to do so. She didn’t typically leave Cannibal Town except for Overlord meetings too, so the fact she went all the way to the hotel meant she truly was worried for his wellbeing. What had Vox told her, exactly?

Rosie did not disappoint with the amount of food she brought out; giant cuts of thigh meat, liver soup, finger sandwiches, tongue kabobs, eyeball martini’s. And it was all fresh too, no more than a day old. He wondered who had hunted this meet and if Rosie did it herself. While it had been a while since he had had Sinner meat last, it was ages since he had hunted with Rosie last. The last time was before he had even left for his seven-year stint with Her. He wondered if Rosie would be up to a hunt together. While eating all the Sinner meat was divine, it never was quite the same as hunting the Sinner yourself.

Alastor dabbed at his mouth with a blood soaked napkin before grabbing a toothpick to extract any lingering Sinner left between his teeth. Rosie gave a pleased hum. “I’m glad to see you liked it,” she said in an amused tone.

Alastor chuckled slightly. “As if I would be anything but pleased with your service. Always a treat. I thank you, Rosie dear. That’s just what I needed.”

“I can tell,” she said as she took a sip of her martini, a blue-eyed eyeball bobbing in the drink. “You shouldn’t go so long in-between meals. You know how it affects you.” She raised a single eyebrow at him. He sighed in annoyance. She knew his compulsion to eat other Sinners and how if he went too long it could weaken him and also drive his emotions wild. It had been over two months now since he had Sinner last and now with a full stomach, he could feel just how much it had been affecting him.

He’d been avoiding coming to Cannibal Town, however, because he knew Rosie would know something was wrong immediately. The disapproving look she was shooting him meant she knew that was why he had been avoiding coming here.

Alastor knew arguing would be pointless so he simply said, “Yes, yes. You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right!” she said. “When am I not?”

Alastor raised an eyebrow, and she pointed a sharp clawed finger at him. “You will not answer that question if you know what’s good for you.” He wisely stayed silent. She sighed and swirled her martini around before she grabbed the eyeball and popped it into her mouth. “I really don’t understand why you didn’t just tell me what was going on. Depriving yourself of Sinner meat while you’re gravely injured won’t do you any favors. It would only make matters worse.”

Alastor ran a hand through his hair. “Yes, Rosie, I am very much aware. But I’m fine now, trust me. I’m no longer at deaths door.”

She hummed. “You sure?”

Alastor rolled his eyes and raised his hands up to a button on his shirt. “Would you like me to prove it?” He’d already shown both Velvette and Lilith his healed injury, and it’s not like Husk and Nifty hadn’t seen it too while it was still in those early stages of healing. Of all the people he’d rather show the scarred chest to it would be Rosie.

Apparently, him being so casual about asking if she wanted to see it was the wrong thing to say for her eyes widened in surprise. She recovered from her shock, however, and said, “No, no. I believe you. I can plainly see that you’re no longer in any pain and if you were, then transporting yourself and me through your shadows would have taken a toll. I believe you when you say you’re healed. I’m only surprised and curious as to how you managed to be healed. From my understanding it was angelic poison that was killing you.”

Alastor’s brows furrowed slightly. “Who told you that exactly? Last we spoke you said that Charlie said very little.”

She took a sip of her martini. Alastor was beginning to think that he should have another one as well. “She did, that typically loose-lipped dear. It was Vox, however, that was the one who revealed quite a bit about what’s been going on between the two of you recently. All rather interesting things.”

There was a small part of Alastor that internally grumbled in anger at having Vox reveal any sort of his secrets, even if to Rosie. But he tamped that down quickly knowing he had no right to be upset with him over this.

“And when exactly did you and Vox have a little chat?” he asked, giving in and pouring himself a martini. He put extra eyeballs in the drink for himself.

“Today,” she said.

Alastor blinked in surprise. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’d gone to his tower to have a little chat just before I came to see you,” she said. A small frown marred her face. “Said some things that I’ll be honest, concerned me greatly.”

That was obvious. Whatever Vox had told her had worried her enough to go straight to the hotel to make sure that Alastor wasn’t dead. Was Vox telling people he had killed him? He gave the antidote to Alastor before he ran with his tail between his legs, but Velvette had shown up just last week, demanding to see Alastor’s wound to confirm he was healed. She said she needed to make sure that the antidote she recreated worked. But that was a week ago, surely Velvette would have told Vox about Alastor’s survival.

“What did he say exactly?” he asked tentatively, worried for the answer.

“Well besides him revealing that your wound was infected by poison that you received from Adam, AND that you’d been keeping it a secret up until you collapsed, AND that Charlie had to call for Vox’s help which apparently worked temporarily, he said a great deal.” With each new statement her voice rose in volume. Ahh yes, all of that was unfortunately true and of course that would all piss off Rosie greatly.

She clucked her tongue and poured herself another martini, pulling the bowl of eyeballs towards herself and out of Alastor’s reach. “He also said that Heaven somehow got involved in everything, which I’m not quite sure how that happened, but they gave you an antidote. But it got destroyed somehow?” She shook her head in disbelief. “And then that young friend of his, the spitfire new Overlord, managed to recreate it. But then you decide to show up, at THEIR tower, to kill Vox?!” If Rosie’s powers had anything to do with fire, he knew that steam would be coming out of her mouth in her obvious rage.

He looked away in shame. “I…wasn’t actually there to kill him,” he said lamely.

“Really?” she said in a clipped voice. “Because he showed me a recording from part of your fight. You outright told him you were there to kill him, Alastor! The man who was apparently doing so much to try and save you! And on top of that you rubbed it in his face that you found him at his lowest low when he first showed up in Hell and that you should have LET him KILL himself!”

He flinched. While he knew that last part was cruel, even in the moment, a new clarity arose with everything that Vox had revealed to him afterwards, coupled with him deliberately trying to get Alastor to kill him. Somehow, the situation with Vox seemed even worse than it had before. He’d actively tried to get Alastor to kill him, going so far as putting the loaded gun in Alastor’s hands and putting it up against his head. Alastor knew Vox wanted to die, still, after all these years and he didn’t know why.

Oh, but a picture was forming, and he did not like how it was turning out. What exactly had Valentino done?

Alastor brought a hand up to his forehead, strands of hair twisting around his claws. He dug them into his scalp, relishing the sweet pricks of pain. “I know,” he said weakly. “I know. I messed up. More than messed up. But really, Rosie, I didn’t go there to kill him.” He turned pleading eyes towards her who stared at him unsure.

“Then what could you have possibly been there to do, Alastor? I’m sure Vox left out a large part of your twos actual recorded fight but from what I saw, it was pretty clear. What were you thinking?” she asked him urgently.

He shook his head not knowing what to say that would make sense. He could tell her about Her but-

His shadow hissed inside his mind. ‘Be careful of who you tell about Her,’ it warned. ‘She will not be pleased if She found out you are telling others about Her.’

She will not be pleased when She finds out I have no intentions of killing Vox, he thought. How could telling Rosie of the Mistress be any more of a risk?

‘Because it paints a target on her back,’ it said soothingly. ‘It does not only put you and I in danger. Presently, She has not asked for your friend and she is not a target. But if She were to find out about you revealing all to another, not only will we be drug back to the void, She will do everything possible to collect your friends soul as well.’

Alastor dug his claws further into his scalp. His shadow was right. He couldn’t put Rosie at risk too.

“Alastor?” He looked up to see her now looking at him in concern. “Talk to me, darling. What is going on? I’ve been worried for you for some time now and you won’t talk to me. I can help.” She reached across the table, grabbing his other hand with hers. She gave a small comforting smile, and it made his heart ache.

“There is…some trouble – I’ve found myself in,” he said slowly. His shadow hissed loudly in his head but he forced himself not to respond. “I can’t tell you everything,” he said, making the shadow quiet down slightly. “But just know that there is very little I can do about it, but I am working on it.”

Her brows furrowed further and the hand that held his squeezed tighter. “I don’t understand. Are you talking about your injury? This whole thing with Heaven?”

He shook his head. “No, no. Heaven isn’t involved in this. And the injury is really only a small part of it. This is something that started long ago. Long, long ago.”

“I still don’t understand. You’ve gotten involved in some sort of trouble, but it’s connected to your injury and – Vox somehow?”

He sighed. This was so hard to tell her some of the problem but not all of it. ‘It would be best if you didn’t say anything at all’, it growled.

“I have somebody…who has been causing me troubles,” he began. “For a while. We have a…deal,” his shadow screeched causing him to let out an involuntary bit of radio static. Rosie frowned. “And it’s gone bad.” His shoulders drooped and he pulled his hand out of Rosie’s hands, dropping his head into both of his hands. “Do not ask me to speak more on it. I cannot.”

“You cannot?” she asked. “Or won’t?”

He did not answer which was answer enough. She huffed out an irritated sigh. “Alastor, I cannot help you if you don’t tell me what sort of bad deal you made.”

“I do not want or need you help, Rosie. I told you; I’m handling it.”

“Well not very well, apparently.” She leaned back in her chair, creating further distance between them. “Well, then, tell me at the very least what this has to do with Vox and your reasons for going to his place to kill him while he was actively trying to help you.”

Alastor huffed and leaned back in his own chair, finally looking up and back to Rosie. She looked greatly displeased. “I was dying,” he said, and she flinched. “I was about to die and I…didn’t want to die as an invalid. Dying in my own bed, weak and pathetic. I wanted to die with as much dignity as I still possessed, as the Radio Demon.”

She scoffed. “You went there to try and drive him to kill you,” she said bluntly.

He nodded. “Yes.”

Rosie brought a hand to her face and groaned. “Oh Alastor. Why did you have to go to Vox and do that? There’s so many other Overlords you could have gone to to try and push them to kill you. You’re not exactly widely liked; in case you weren’t aware.”

“Yes, I’m more than aware.” He looked away in irritation.

“Then why of all people would you go to Vox and-”

“Because he deserved it,” he said forcefully.

“To have you insult him to his face in such a cruel fashion?” she asked incredulously.

“No! No,” he shook his head. “That’s not what I meant.” He sighed. “He deserved to be the one to end me after – everything. He deserved it and also…if I was going to die at anyone’s hands, I wanted it to be him.”

Several seconds of silence went by before he finally turned back to Rosie. She looked at him knowingly, like she could see right through him into his very soul. Only his mother had ever looked at him like that. And Grace, at the very end. He hated it.

“Oh Alastor,” she said softly. “Why are you two boys so stubborn? You two had just finally got to a point of almost truce and then you tried to go push the man who has been head-over-heels in love with you for years to kill you permanently because you couldn’t imagine having anyone else kill you?” Alastor flinched at the reminder of Vox’s feelings for him but knew that she had a point. It was cruel. He’d already figured that out by now.

He hadn’t once thought of it from Vox’s perspective, instead assuming that obviously he would be thrilled, albeit maybe much later, that he had been the one to finally kill the Radio Demon. It wasn’t until Vox had revealed to him that he had been trying to get Alastor to kill him for decades, until Vox put that damned gun in his hands, did the true horror dawn on him. If Vox had wound up actually killing him, he imagined that it would have hurt Vox irreparably.

Rosie leaned forward taking a generous sip of her martini before forcefully placing the empty glass on the table. “I knew the way he was acting was off. He seemed to be trying to convince himself more than me that he was glad he had killed you.”

Alastor shook his head, and his smile strained. “I’m not dead.”

“Yes, clearly. Brain-dead, maybe,” she muttered to herself. “But not dead. Which you still didn’t tell me how you managed that. If Vox is to be believed and the antidote Heaven gave you was destroyed, how are you still alive and healed now?”

His ear twitched and looked away. “He may have given me the antidote in-between him zapping me with his electricity and me running away through my shadows.”

A beat of silence and then, “Oh for the love of all that is unholy, you two are the most insufferable man-children I have ever had the misfortune of knowing!” She stood up abruptly, her chair scrapping harshly against the ground. She threw her hands up in the air in exasperation. “He tells me everything else but leaves that key bit of information out! Was he intentionally trying to goad me into fighting him? In his own territory? How stupid does he think I am?! Obviously he’d know I’d find out you weren’t actually dead and rush off to the hotel immediately so why tell me that you were dead?? Ohhhh that man, getting me worked up into a tizzy for nothing!”

Through her rant she paced back and forth, paying Alastor no mind. Eventually she stopped by her chair and sighed once more. She seemed to deflate and she grabbed the back of her chair as if to steady herself. She looked down at the ground in defeat. “I suppose that was the intention then. To anger me so. Make me hurt too when I thought that you were…” She brought her free hand up to her head and shook it. “I really did underestimate just how much pain he still was in after all these years. I suppose I have no right to complain. I’ve been just as big of an idiot as the two of you. I thought he knew that I still cared for – that I never wanted to stop being friends…”

She sighed. “Oh Vox,” she said softly. “I never thought about how alone he must have felt after things fell apart between you two. I always thought, surely it wasn’t so bad. He still had that Valentino-”

There was a loud screech of radio feedback, snapping Rosie’s attention to him. Alastor stared back with his teeth bared and face twisted into a snarl. He realized his immediate mistake and schooled his face back into something that was approaching normal but was still miles off. She looked at him in concern.

“Alastor,” she said. “What is it?”

He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He was unsure of how to start. He had only suspicions and despite the friendship that he shared with Rosie, and the friendship she once shared with Vox, he worried what telling her about what he suspected would mean for Vox.

“Last week,” he said. “Velvette came to the hotel. Nothing nefarious,” he rushed to add when he saw her concern. “Granted I didn’t exactly know that at first, but I see now that she had come to me asking for help…with Vox.”

Rosie pulled her chair back and retook her seat. “Help with him how?” she asked suspiciously. Well that’s good, he thought. Meant he wasn’t being completely paranoid to be immediately suspicious of Velvette.

“Not like that, she wasn’t asking me to do anything to Vox, but rather Valentino.”

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “My, my. I knew the young woman didn’t seem to care for him but for her to come to you to help her with, uh, what exactly…?”

“Kill him.” Rosie’s eyebrows rose impossibly higher. “Thought I had some sort of angelic weapon that I’ve been keeping all these years.” She snorted. “I know,” he said. “I set her straight but I’m unsure if she believed me. Either way, I refused.”

“Oh really,” she said. “Would have thought you’d jump at the opportunity to kill him. You always did hate him from the first moment he showed up in Vox’s life.”

Alastor scowled. “And rightfully so it may seem.” He swallowed thickly. “Velvette may have implied, let it slip rather, that Valentino has…hurt Vox in some way.” Rosie gasped. “And from what I know of him, the sick disgusting Demon he is, I fear what exactly he may had done.”

“Well,” she said after several moments. “That is not good at all. And if she came to another Overlord to help her, I would hazard to guess that it is true. But then why refuse to kill Valentino?”

“At the time I thought she was just trying to use me to get ahead.” Rosie hummed in understanding. “It wasn’t until later that I realized that she was likely sincere and genuinely just wanted me to help kill Valentino to protect Vox.”

Rosie sighed. “Well at least there’s somebody who seems to honestly be trying to help Vox and be there for him. I worry that he’s been lacking anyone like that for quite some time.”

He hummed sadly. “You and me both.”

Rosie took an eyeball from the bowl, popping it into her mouth before she pushed it to the center of the table. He gave a genuine smile at the small peace offering which he accepted gratefully. They ate in companionable silence for several minutes before Rosie took a napkin and dabbed at her mouth. She threw it on the table and leaned back, pinning Alastor with a look.

“So, just to recap,” she said. “You got hurt gravely in your fight with Adam, who is now in Hell and in Valentino’s pocket I might add.” Alastor grimaced at the reminder as his shadow hissed in agreement. “You didn’t tell anyone how badly you were hurt because of pride and idiocy, nearly died, Charlie called Vox for help who provided it. Heaven gave you the antidote, it broke. Velvette creates a new cure for you, at the request of Vox. Instead of listening to him and finding out she was successful you jump the gun and try to kill Vox in some harebrained attempt at going out in a blaze of glory, shattered any chance of repairing your broken relationship to him as a result, he STILL manages to save you despite it all, and now you come to find out Valentino may be hurting our dear television in some unknown, but likely horrible, way. Oh, and you apparently have made some bad deal at some point long ago, but you won’t tell me about it for reasons you also won’t tell me.” She raised an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side. “Did I miss anything?”

Alastor thought about Vox’s downright concerning suicidal ideation that is current and not a thing of the past like he had thought. While it was another reason why he thought that Valentino truly was hurting him, Rosie didn’t need to know that. She trusted him enough that if he said he believed Valentino was hurting Vox, she believed him too. Alastor hadn’t done much good in protecting Vox but at least this is something he could protect him from. He knew that Vox would hate anyone else to know.

“No,” he said. “I think that about sums it up.”

“You never can do things in half-measures, can you Al?” she said with an exasperated smile. “Well, what’s the plan?”

“Plan?” he asked.

“Yes, to handle all this mess. I know you, and you have to have some sort of plan to fix everything to your liking. So come on, spit it out! What are we planning on doing with Valentino at least?” she said, leaning close to him with a wicked smile. “Killing him outright would be too easy, right?”

Oh Rosie, always so willing to encourage and even engage in his bloodlust. He leaned forward too, the two looking as if a pair of teenagers, engaged in exchanging the juiciest of gossip. Which he supposed in a way they were. He matched her grin and said, “Why darling, it’s always far more fun ripping off the wings of disgusting and pesky little insects. Then they can’t fly away when you have your fun with them.”
__________________________________________________________
1923

Alastor made sure to look over his shoulder as he walked down the alleyway. No one was watching him but the pesky detective was the one he was worried about. As far as he could tell, he was nowhere in sight.

He walked down the dark alley before coming to stop before a dingy door. He knocked and waited for a response. The door was opened a crack and a man Alastor was not familiar with glared back.

“Password?”

“Everest.”

“Wrong.” And then the door was slammed on his face. Alastor reared back in surprise and anger. He knocked again.

The door was opened a crack again and the man sneered. “Listen buddy, you don’t know the password then buzz off. Go on over to where the old Storyville was. You’ll be more at home there.” The young man looked Alastor up and down and he bristled at the meaning. Despite Alastor’s clean and expensive suit, his darker skin was clearly what the man found offense at.

The man moved to close the door but Alastor quickly shoved his foot between the door, preventing him from closing it. The man stared at him in shock. Alastor gave him a menacing smile and leaned closely. “Now seeing as you are clearly new, I’ll let this insult slide. But if you know what’s best for you, you will find my dear friend Mimzy or literally any other employee here and you will let me in immediately.”

The young man still stared at him in shock for several seconds before Alastor heard a familiar voice from behind the boy. “Clayton, you get away from that door right now. Go on!”

The boy was pushed back and then the door was opened wider, revealing the typical doorman, Robert. No longer was he a host at the front but his loyalty and forward thinking had made Mimzy decide to pull him to the back of the house, trusting his judgement.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Augustine. Please forgive the confusion. He’s new and still learning the ropes. He’ll be sure to remember your face now and won’t hesitate to let you in next time,” he said pointedly towards the young man who scowled. Robert ushered Alastor in, looking back and forth down the alleyway before closing the door.

Alastor dusted off imaginary lint from his suit, staring down his nose at the young man, Clayton. The initial door closing he could understand, especially if Mimzy had changed the password since he had come last. It had been several weeks by now. But the blatant bigotry Alastor could not. He’d have to have a word with Mimzy.

“Yes, well see to it that it doesn’t happen again.” Alastor walked off without another word, listening to the quiet reprimands shot towards the young man.

He descended stairs and the further down he went the louder the music. Luckily the walls were thick, surprisingly so. It appeared that Mr. Ainsley had done his fair share of illegal activity down here, necessitating thick floors and walls. Not surprising but it benefitted Mimzy just fine. There was another familiar doorman at the bottom of the stairs who nodded and opened the door for him.

The space wasn’t large, but it still managed to accommodate quite the number of people. There were several people dancing closely together before a small stage barely big enough for the one singer and piano player. The man was singing a popular song from that year, one that Alastor found a bit more on the unsophisticated side, but the audience sang along to, obviously thrilled.

“Yes, we have no bananas. We have-a no bananas today. Just try those coconuts, those walnuts and doughnuts. There ain't many nuts like they!” sang the crowd with the singer. He was a fan favorite, really knew how to command a room. Alastor rolled his eyes and made his way to the bar.

“Hey there Mr. Augustine. The usual?” asked the bartender.

He’d been served by the man many of times now, both when Alastor still owned the joint and after. “Yes please, Damian.”

The glass of rye was placed before him soon enough and he let out a pleased sigh as he sipped it. Alastor sat back and absentmindedly watched the crowd and listened to the music. While it wasn't to his taste it was entertaining watching the dancing.

“Ahh, Al! There ya are!” came the familiar squeaky voice. Alastor smiled. Soon Mimzy stopped by his side, pulling him in so she could plant an obnoxious kiss onto his cheek. He scrunched up his nose but still couldn’t help but smile. “Where ya be, sweety? Ain’t seen you for quite some time.”

“I’ve been busy, my dear. Apologizes.”

“Oh yes, so I’ve heard,” she said giving him a look. It was all over the papers and on the radio the past couple of weeks, the latest victim of the Smiling Killer. A bigshot prosecutor who had been discovered to have taken several bribes to dismiss charges against several violent offenders, many of which were connected to the mob. Of course, none of this came to light until after his death. Before that, it was only rumors.

Alastor shrugged as he took a sip. “I thought it prudent to keep my distance in the direct aftermath,” he said far quieter, only for Mimzy’s ears. “I would hate it if I drew any unnecessary attention to your place of business.” He’d already felt guilty when the police began poking around Priestess Maxine after the disappearance of the religious bigot he had disappeared two years prior. He was more…careful about those who went missing and not just those who showed up with bloody smiles.

“Oh pish posh,” said Mimzy with a wave her hand. “You ain’t gotta worry about little ol’ me. I can handle myself.”

“I know, my dear. But it never hurts to be extra careful.”

Mimzy hummed. “I suppose so. I appreciate it either way. But I still hate not seein’ ya as much! You’ve been missin’ out!”

“On what? Your change in staff?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Mimzy laughed. “Based on that response I’m assumin’ ya met the new boy and not the girl?”

“There’s two of them?” he asked with no small amount of disdain.

“Oh, come on, Al. I know ya hate change and all but it ain’t all bad.” She rolled her eyes, exasperated.

“The ‘boy’ seemed less than adequate. Would have turned me away if it wasn’t for Robert. And not just because I was unaware of the change in password.” He scrunched up his nose in distaste.

Mimzy sighed. “Yeah, well, he can use some work. I didn’ hire him based on his merit anyways.”

“Don’t tell me he’s another one of your strays,” Alastor scoffed. Mimzy had a tendency to hire old friends of hers from the now closed Storyville. While some of the girls weren’t bad, it was the men Alastor took a disliking to. Most were brash and thought themselves gangsters, many of which used to be, but all were young and hot-headed. The young man certainly fit the bill.

Mimzy shrugged and shook her hand back and forth in a ‘so-so’ motion. “Ehhhh, kind of. Got into a spot of trouble from some former acquaintances from the District. Nothin’ too big or serious. I handled it but the real reason was his girl. Head over heals in love with that one, despite his lack of a good head on his shoulders. Wouldn’t hear a single warnin’ I tried givin’ her about her boo. But that’s young love for ya, ain’t much logic behind it.”

Alastor hummed. “So she’s the stray in need of rescuing and he’s the bad dog that won’t leave her side.”

“Pretty much.” Damian came and placed a drink beside Mimzy without a word who nodded in thanks, smiling giddily. It paid to be the boss, and he could tell she loved it. Sometimes he wondered if giving her the whole damn Alligator Club was a good idea.

“Seems like the girl is more trouble than she’s worth.”

“Oh, the boy’s harmless! More bite than bark, really.” Easy for Mimzy to say with her pale skin and blonde hair. Not that her life has ever exactly been easy, but she’s never had to have someone look at her skin and think ill of her. “But the girl really is worth it, believe me. Just you wait until ya hear her sing. The voice of an angel that one.”

That’s when the current singer on the stage finished his latest song, the crowd began to cheer at his performance. What was the man’s name? Alastor could never remember. Another one of the strays that unfortunately remained cocky due to his charisma and skills at singing. The audience loved him, and it left him arrogant.

“Oh boy, here she comes!” said Mimzy, grabbing his arm and giddily shaking him. “She’s up next!”

Alastor hummed and turned to the side to get a better look at the stage. He didn’t expect much, so he busied himself with ordering another drink from Damian. The piano began and then that’s when he heard the beginning of a beautiful young voice, not far off from sounding just as Mimzy described it.

“Gee, but it’s hard to love someone when that someone don’t love you,” she sang. The song was slower and not as lively as the last, but the crowd was still just as captivated, finding seats and listening attentively. “I’m so disgusted, heartbroken too. I’ve got those downhearted blues. Once I was crazy ‘bout a man, he mistreated me all the time. The next man I get has got to promise me to be mine, all mine.”

Alastor turned to look, and he froze. “Trouble, trouble, I’ve had it all my days. Trouble, trouble, I’ve had it all my days. It seems like troubles going to follow me to my grave.”

He’d seen this girl once before, years ago, the same night he had found his mother dead. He’d nearly forgotten about seeing her, so many other things had happened that night. But there it was, the same nose and eye shape that Alastor saw every morning in the mirror. Her eyes were brown too, like his, but like Alastor it seemed she had inherited hers from her own mother. Her face was round, like her mothers, thankfully not long and narrowed like her fathers. Her blonde hair was pulled back into an intricate updo but there were a couple wavy curls framing her face. He remembered her mother’s hair was wavy, unlike the straight locks of her fathers. There was no mistaking who she was though, and Alastor felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“Al?” Mimzy’s voice startled him out of his stupor, turning wide eyes towards his friend. “You alright?”

He turned back to the girl, no the young woman, and shook his head.

She continued to sing. “I ain’t never loved but three men in my life. My father, my brother, the man that wrecked my life.”

Alastor nearly let out a hysterical laugh at the lyrics. The father she never knew and the brother she didn’t know she had.

“Al, talk ta me. You knows this girl?”

Alastor nodded as he kept listening to the mesmerizing song. “Yes,” he croaked out.

Mimzy frowned. “Well, who’s she to ya? You damn near look like ya’ve seen a ghost!”

“In a way, I suppose I have. But that’s no different than every other day.” His face was a constant reminder of his very first ghost.

“Al, ya ain’t makin’ no sense. Who is she?” Mimzy then began to look concerned, shooting a look around them to make sure no one could hear her. She leaned in close and asked, “She ain’t someone related to, ya know, someone ya’ve-” She then made a slicing motion across her throat.

Alastor couldn’t help the hysterical laugh then. “Oh, you have no idea.”

“Damn,” said Mimzy, sitting back. The crowd began clapping as the song came to a close before she launched into another song, far more upbeat, and the crowd took to the dance floor once more. “Must have been a doozy if ya remember her. What, was she there too when you took care of them? Walked in on ya like that one gal?”

“No. Nothing like that.” He shivered.

“Well then you sure she’s who ya think she is? Ain’t gettin’ her mixed up with young gal?”

Alastor sighed. “I’m sure.”

“How can ya be?” He knew that Mimzy was just trying to help but right now it was just irritating. He knew who she was.

“Because she’s my sister, alright?” he barked out, glaring at her. Her eyes were wide in shock. He couldn’t take it, so he turned around and continued to watch his sister sing.

Mimzy sat there in silence, taking the revelation in. She didn’t know he had a sister, and it was clear that she wasn’t his mother’s. That combined with the fact he had just admitted to killing a relative of hers was more than telling.

“She’d mentioned something about a dead daddy who died when she was young,” said Mimzy quietly. “Made his whole side of the family quite overbearing since she was all that was left of him.” Ha! If only. “Never much got along with them and with the trouble her mans gotten up to…well thangs ain’t great apparently.”

More silence besides the lovely singing voice and piano.

“Always knew your daddy had to be a right bastard.” She said it with such finality.

“What makes you say that?” He said, slightly surprised by the force of the statement.

“You wouldn’t kill the guy for nothin’.” She shrugged. What faith she had. “And remember, I worked with your momma for years. I learned a thing or two about her and the man she fell in love with. Never outright spoke ill of him but I could read between the lines. Knew she was too good for him.”

Despite everything, he felt a spark of affection for his friend. Even if he wasn’t always sure of his actions regarding his father, he at least knew his father never deserved his mother.

The two fell into silence, watching as his sister continued to sing and the crowd absolutely loved her. A beautiful young woman with a beautiful voice, of course they did.

“You can’t allow her to work here,” Alastor eventually said.

“What? Why the Hell not?” Mimzy asked.

Alastor shook his head. “It’s too dangerous.” Not only were there dangers of working at a speakeasy alone, but it was one that had a certain amount of extra scrutiny due to Alastor’s association with the establishment and Mimzy. If Detective Taylor ever found a reason to search the place and discovered who the girl was…well he didn’t quite know what would happen.

“I already told ya, she ain’t got a lot of options.”

“She has more options than most,” he snapped. “Her family has more than enough money.” While her paternal grandparents weren’t the richest, their grocery store provided them with more than enough wealth. She would be fine.

“Ain’t ya listenin’? She don’t get along with them none and I thought you’d appreciate such a sentiment more than most.” Mimzy shot him an accusing glare.

Alastor opened his mouth to argue but snapped it shut. He couldn’t exactly argue that point seeing as he too had no interaction with that side of his “family”. Shouldn’t he be glad she didn’t get along with those bigoted snobs? But then again, what did it matter? He didn’t know the girl either. They may be blood, but blood was clearly not enough to form any sort of true connection.

The girl ended her song before stepping down and allowing another singer to take the stage. She smiled bashfully at those who complimented her as she stepped down.

“Look,” said Mimzy. “I can understand her bein’ here might be strange for ya. She know who ya are?”

He shook his head. “No.”

 

“Still, won’t be easy for ya.” She sighed as they continued to watch her make her way through the crowd. “If you insist I should fire her, I will. As a favor to an old friend. It’s the least I could do after everything you’ve done for me over the years.”

Alastor looked at her and saw Mimzy was already looking back. He saw no lie in her eyes. If he should ask again, she would do it even if it meant losing a bright young performer. And wasn't that a kicker. She was a performer too, just like he was. A different median and in a different way but no less an entertainer. And a damned good one too.

"Miss Mimzy!" came the cry from close by. They turned and saw her coming towards them with a wide smile. Alastor quickly looked away, turning his back to the stage and taking a sip of his drink. "How was that? Was I any good? Do you have any pointers?"

Mimzy plastered on a smile effortlessly despite the fact they had just been discussing the termination of the girls job. "You were perfect, darling. No pointers from me."

She came to stand just before Mimzy who had grabbed onto both of the girls hands affectionately. Out of the corner of Alastor's eyes he could see her beaming at Mimzy, basking in the praise.

"Oh thank you, thank you, thank you, Miss Mimzy! I can't tell you enough how grateful I am that you've given me and Clayton a chance like this. Truly." Alastor took another sip, hiding his face. He ignored the side eye that he knew Mimzy had shot him.

"Of course, dear. You've been an absolute delight," Mimzy said with a lack of her normal enthusiasm.

The girl seemed to realize then that she had interrupted the two and gave out a small gasp. "Oh. Oh no, I'm so sorry, Miss Mimzy! I didn't mean to interrupt you two. Please forgive me sir for my rudeness."

If Alastor was any less of a gentelman he would have snorted into his drink. Here she was apologizing to him for a second time. Their only two interactions and she apologized to HIM. He didn't know if he deserved any apologies from her.

He cleared his throat and barly turned his head towards the two women as he said, allowing his natural southern accent to come out more, "No apologies necessary."

He could see Mimzy's slight furrowing of her brows at his accent but she made no comment. Despite not thinking about that interaction with his sister and her mother years prior he still remembered her mother stating she had been a fan of his show. He didn't know if she would recognize his voice or not.

"Oh but I've been so rude just now," she insisted. "I really am sorry."

"Don't you worry your pretty little self," said Mimzy. "If Al here said he don't mind then he don't mind. And besides, he was quite the fan of your singin'."

Alastor shot her a look then and grew even more irritated at the mischievous look she shot back. His sister's cheeks noticebly turned scarlet. She gave a nervous laugh. "Yeah? Truly? I don't know. I feel like I could have done better. Clayton says I'm too pitchy sometimes."

"Pssh, what does he know?" Said Mimzy, rolling her eyes. "That man of yours has a real pretty face but that don't mean he knows the first thing about real talent. Ain't that right, Al?" Alastor shot her another beseeching look, begging her to stop. Mimzy ignored him and smiled at his sister, elbowing Alastor purposefully in the process. "Al here's in radio so he knows a thang or two about talent."

Her eyes lit up before she stared at Alastor in wonder. "Really? You're a radio star, sir?"

Before Alastor could respond Mimzy barked out a laugh. "Star, huh? Yeah yous could say that. He's only the biggest radio host in all of New Orleans."

If anything the girls eyes widened further, a slight twinkle flashing there. "Wait," she said slowly. "Your names Al? You're not....THE Alastor? The famous radio host??"

Alastor glared at Mimzy who now suddenly was stubbornly quiet, forcing Alastor to respond. He sighed and turned slightly in his seat. "Yeah. That's me."

The girl gasped and shot him a huge grin. "Oh my word! I can't believe this! Sir, I am one of your biggest fans, I've been listening to you since I was a child!"

He gave a strained smile and hummed. "You don't say."

It seemed she noticed some of his reluctance to talk for she reigned herself in, just barely containing her excitement. "Sorry. You must get that a lot and hate the attention."

"Ha! Al hate the attention? Not when it's from one of his fans!" Mimzy threw an arm around him, pulling him close and jostling his glasses. He just barely managed to stay in his seat. He shrugged off her arm while he fixed his glasses.

"Yes, well sometimes it's nice to fly under the radar and have a quiet night," he said pointedly. While the comment was meant for Mimzy he could see the girls face fall, believing the comment was directed towards her. She looked dejected and he felt a pang in his chest.

'Sentimental,' came the unexpected and reprimanding voice in his head. He ignored it because there was no sentiment here. He didn't know the girl.

"Of course. I'm sorry again, sir. I won't bother you no more, sir. Miss Mimzy." She gave a small bow of her head and a weak smile before walking away.

Alastor then felt a twist in his gut. He hadn't meant to hurt the girls feelings, he'd only meant to get Mimzy to stop with her obvious ploy.

"Ya know, for a man with such a sweet and respectable momma you'd think you'd have better manners," said Mimzy with a huff before she sipped from her glass.

"I have perfect manners when I'm not blindsided by a friend who is trying to force me to talk with a person who I CLEARLY did not want to have any interactions with," he said through gritted teeth.

"Oh you hush," she said with a disinterested wave. "I was just being polite. Ain't so hard if you'd only try it every once in a while."

The grip Alastor had on his glass increased, his knuckles turning white. If she wasn't his oldest friend he'd have quite a few scathing remarks he'd hurl her way. She thought he wasn't being polite? Oh he could show her not being polite.

And then he saw in the corner of the crowded room, his sister talking with the boy who refused him entry. The two were an item according to Mimzy. There was a scowl on the boys face. It seemed to be a near constant state for him while his sisters face looked sheepish. They were conversing, their words drowned out by the loud room. But it appeared that they may be having some sort of disagreement.

Then his sister put a gentle hand on the boys shoulder, rubbing in a placating way. The boy threw it off suddenly and Alastor scowled. The boys hand then flew to his sisters upper arm, grabbing hard if the way he gostled her close was any indication. His frowned deepened.

Mimzy noticed his shifted focus and followed his gaze with her own. She sighed. "It's like I said. She wouldn't listen to a single warnin' I gave her about that boy."

Alastor had to remind himself not to squeeze too hard on his glass otherwise he would break it. "You ever seen him hurt her?" he asked in a low voice, eyes fixed on the two who continued to converse, one with an everpresent scowl and the other with a placating look.

"No," said Mimzy softly. "But that don't mean he don't. Just not where anyone can see."

They continued to watch as the boy seemed to calm down about whatever it was he was upset about. Alastor's sister gave him a smile and got up close, wrapping her arms around his neck. He returned the embrace and the two shared a lingering kiss. Alastor took a deep breath through his nose.

"You still want me to fire them?" asked Mimzy, her tone knowing.

Damn that woman. "No," he said. "Keep them both on the books." He finished the rest of his drink in a single gulp before standing up. "And let me know if you do ever see anything." He then began to walk away, resolutely refusing to look in that same corner at the boy and girl.

Grace, he reminded himself. Her mother had told him her name was Grace.

Before he left, Mimzy said, "Of course, darling. You know me. I always keep you informed of any who are sure to be causin' trouble."
__________________________________________________________
Vox lounged on the couch, ignoring the large hand lying on his upper thigh. He instead focused on his phone and mindlessly scrowling through his phone. While the hand on his leg and the arm wrapped around his shoulder was difficult to not focus on, the real obstacle in him truly getting lost in Voxtagram was the daggers being shot his way on the opposite couch.

Granted the daggers weren't being shot at him, but rather at Valentino who was oblivious to the murderous glare Velvette wore. Instead he was focused on conversing with the other irritant, Adam, who sat with his feet propped up on the coffee table between all of them.

Vox hadn't really been paying attention to whatever innate nonsense the two were conversing about, instead he was too focused on Velvette's silent ire. He tried to send out a burst of static towards her to get her to stop being so damned obvious but she still struggled to pick up on his signal even on a good day. There was no chance that with her anger just boiling underneath the surface that she would pick up on it.

Instead he opened up his messages and sent her a text.

Vox:
If you stare any harder you'll burn a hole through him.

Without looking up he connected to one of the cameras in the corner of the room and could see her scowl deepen, if that was even possible. But she still pulled out her phone and looked. Then her fingers flew across the screen.

Vel:
That's the goal.

Vox:
Stop. You promised.

She paused and her face twitched, twisting into something resembling guilt. Then her frown returned and her fingers flew across the screen once more.

Vel:
You can't seriously expect me not to want to cut him into pieces when he has his disgusting paws all over you RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME! And now that I know what a fucking piece of shit he is!

Vox:
You've always known he was a piece of shit. This is just an additional layer. Drop it before he gets suspicious.

As if on cue, Valentino squeezed Vox's shoulder. "Voxxy, baby. You two aren't having a conversation without us, are you?" came the sugary sweet voice.

Vox quickly switched out of his text chat to go back to his Voxtagram feed. Thankfully Valentino had such shit eye sight and Vox's head was so big, there was very little chance Valentino could have seen his phone screen. That didn't mean he wasn't suspicious and had guessed correctly what they were doing.

Vox looked up and gave his best sincere fake smile. "Not at all, baby. Just scrowling on Voxstagam." He tilted his screen slightly so Valentino could have a better view of his phone. Vox quickly connected mentally to his phone, sifting through the data to delete the text messages between him and Velvette in case Valentino decided to check later. One could never be to careful.

“And besides, even if we were talking to each other through text that’s none of your business,” snapped Velvette, her glare still plastered across her face.

Vox shoots her a discreet look, pleading with his eyes for her to fucking calm down, as Valentino turns to her with a mildly amused smile. “Is that right, babydoll? And what sort of secrets are you two passing back and forth?”

“Like I said, none of your fucking business.” Her eyes shifted towards Vox for only a moment, but it was more than enough for her to FINALLY get the message. Her shoulders drooped fractionally and then she turned back to her phone, tapping away like she always does.

“So testy!” said Valentino with a laugh. “You really need to chill out, chica. You and Vox work too hard.”

“Well, somebody’s got to around here,” said Velvette under her breath but more than loud enough for all parties to hear. For fucks sake, thought Vox. This is just one of the reasons why he never wanted her to learn the truth. If she kept this up she was going to make Valentino suspicious and Vox would have to be the one to distract him and if he didn’t have to fall into bed with Val he’d rather not.

Valentino frowned slightly, clearly irritated by the near constant hostility from Velvette. The two didn’t get along even on a good day, but this level of antagonism was unusual. Vox was saved from having to defuse the situation from one of the most unlikely sources.

“You know what they say about all work and no play,” said Adam. He held a beer can in one hand with an opened beer box resting on the floor next to his chair. He gulped down the rest of his beer before discarding the empty can onto the floor, joining the others he’d already drank. If Vox still had a nose, he’d be scrunching it up in distaste. “I think it’s time we party.”

“You really do speak my language,” purred Valentino, pulling a drag from his cigarette he had perched in one of his hands.

“Don’t you know it!” Adam leaned over to grab a new beer from his box. “But I don’t just mean we go out and party. We gotta throw something big! Let everyone know the First Man is in town!”

“Didn’t realize you were wanting to get so cozy in Hell,” drawled Velvette. Vox REALLY wished he was sitting next to her now so he could kick her. Valentino still didn’t know that they were working with Charlie and Heaven to try and get Adam the fuck out of Hell. Not that they were making much progress on that front but now that Vox didn’t have to worry about negotiating an antidote from them, he could devote all his effort into getting Adam fucking gone.

“Yeah, well while I’m here might as well make the most of it,” said Adam somewhat snippily.

Vox noticed Valentino’s slight frown again, looking between the two questioningly. To distract him Vox smiled and enthusiastically said, “I think a big party is a great idea!”

All three demons turned to look at him, each with varying degrees of surprise. “You do?” asked Velvette in disbelief. Not only did Vox not particularly care for big parties outside of using it for networking, Velvette knew that throwing a party to essentially “promote” Adam would be one of the last things he’d want to do.

“Of course!” he said breezily. “We’ve already introduced Adam to the other Overlords and the royal family. Why not introduce him to the rest of Hell? And besides, we haven’t put on one of Hell’s famous Vee parties in a while. I think it’s about time, don’t you?”

Velvette scowled, obviously thinking it wasn’t. But Valentino’s hand on Vox’s thigh squeezed and his chest drew closer to Vox’s side. “I think you’re right, baby. It’s been so long since we reminded Hell why we’re everyone’s favorite Overlords. Everyone’s been paying too much attention to the little Princessa.” One of Val’s hands lifted Vox’s chin up to look up at him, a seductive yet pleased smile stretching across his face. Good. The whole point of suggesting the party was to distract Valentino and put him in a good mood.

Adam groaned. “You can say that again. Just because the bitch managed to stop just one extermination don’t mean shit. Every other time all you fuckers were running away scared shitless.”

“You’re one of those fuckers now, remember,” said Velvette with a scoff. “And besides, wasn’t that failed extermination the one that finally killed your sorry arse?”

“Only temporarily!” shouted Adam, throwing his half empty beer can towards Velvette who dogged it with a hissed curse. “I’m here now, bitch, and I ain’t going nowhere!”

“Just like an ugly rash,” she snapped.

“Will you two cut it out,” Vox barked out. “You’re making a mess.” At least this was Valentino’s apartment and not his own. Ever since Adam showed up in their lives, Valentino’s apartment was the usual spot they congregated in. If it kept both Valentino and Adam out of his space then all the better for him.

“Yeah, I thought we were party planning,” said Valentino.

Adam leaned over to angrily grab another beer can. “Well maybe if she wasn’t being such a bitch.”

“Oh shove it up your arse you old tosser!” growled Velvette. “You want to see me be a bitch, I can be a bitch!”

“Enough!” shouted Vox, his voice amplified through his screens speakers. That startled the two into silence at least. “You two are acting like children and for once Val’s not involved.” He said the last part without thinking but thankfully Valentino seemed to be in a good mood, whether due to the prospect of a good party or just watching Velvette and Adam argue amused him it didn’t matter for Val let out a chuckle.

“You wound me so, Voxy.” Val’s hand that was rubbing his thigh for once didn’t feel like a threat but rather as the intend tease that it was. Still, if Vox allowed Valentino to continue down that train of thought it would lead to more that he just didn’t have the energy for right now. His knees were still a little sore from having to kneel for Val earlier that day after Rosie had left.

“You’ll get over it soon enough, babe.” Vox gave Val a small but seductive grin back, one that he had perfected long ago. Just enough to let Valentino think his seductions were working but not enough to push him to start tearing Vox’s clothes off. A small ego boost to keep Val pacified.

Velvette was back to scowling deeply though, an edge of disgust entering her gaze. While Vox knew Velvette never enjoyed watching the two of them acting like this around her, always rolling her eyes or telling them to get a room, now things were different. Now she knew that Valentino owned him. What did she think watching Vox give into Val’s flirtations? Was the disgust he could see in her face directed at him? Did she think that maybe he did want this? Maybe think he deserved any of this?

His stomach twisted into a knot, and he suddenly felt self-conscious. Because it wasn’t just Velvette who knew the truth, but their other audience member did too. And instead of disgust, his face was twisted into a cruel sense of glee.

“Keep it in your pants until later, boys,” Adam said with a smile. “While I like watching others fuck as much as the next guy, I gotta say watching two dudes doesn’t do it for me.”

Valentino snickered. “So prudish. You really are from Heaven.”

“Hey! Not a prude!” said Adam, gulping down more of his beer. “You forget, back in Eden no one wore clothes and all I did was fuck. Not a prude!”

“Yeah all you did was fuck your first wife and then your second,” said Valentino. “Not exactly a lot of options and downright monogamous. Still plenty prudish.”

“Ehh what do you know,” Adam said with a wave. “Eve and I fucked like bunnies, you know. We had like, fifty kids or something.”

Velvette scoffed. “You don’t even remember how many kids you had?”

“There was a lot of them!” he said defensively. “It was hard to keep track! I really only remember the first couple,” he waved dismissively.

Velvette raised a single eyebrow. “Oh yeah? And what were their names?”

Adam hesitated, screwing his eyes up in concentration. Vox couldn’t contain his disbelief at that. “Seriously? You can’t even remember your first two sons? Everyone knows their names!”

“I remember!” He snapped. “They were my sons! The little murderer and the murder victim. Of course I remember! Who do you think had to bury the body?” He turned his head away, gulping down his beer angrily. But that didn’t appear to be all there was. Vox frowned, staring at the deep lines between the others brows. Adam may be an ass but that didn’t mean he wasn’t the first father to lose a son. Perhaps there was still some real sorrow there at such a loss, even if remembering their names was difficult.

“I thought we were planning a party anyways, not talking about old family drama,” Adam said, still not looking towards them.

“You’re right,” said Valentino who cleared his throat. Even he could feel the awkwardness that had blanketed the room. “The party. Should be easy enough to organize everything, just need to iron out the details. Like when? Tomorrow night?”

Velvette scoffed. “I know you don’t actually do a lot in way of helping plan but believe me, there is a lot more that goes into the background work of throwing a party. Tomorrow is too early. A week from now.”

Valentino puffed out a ring of smoke. “Fine. But where? We could go to one of my nightclubs. Consent is always good.”

“Something nicer than one of your seedier nightclubs,” said Vox. “If we’re doing one of our bigger parties that we do once a year we’ll have to invite the other Overlords.”

“What? Why?” asked Adam, his attention brought back to their discussion.

“Ugh, because Vox always invites the old fuddy duddy’s when we have one of our big bashes,” said Valentino with a roll of his eyes. “But they never come so I don’t know why he bothers.”

“Because we have an image to uphold and it’s important to maintain good relations with the other Overlords.” Vox didn’t know how many times he had to explain this to Val but it never got less irritating. “Besides, while Carmine and Zestial will more than likely not attend, Zeezi and the flaming guy always enjoy enjoy coming to our parties.”

“Not if we do it at one of the more boring clubs,” said Valentino. “Zeezi enjoys her raves.”

Vox rolled his eyes. “Zeezi can still dance and have fun at one of the classier clubs that DOESN’T have orgies happening right on the dance floor.”

“Boo! You’re no fun!” There was no real bite behind Val’s words, thankfully.

“What about the old woman?” asked Adam. “The one with the giant hat at the meeting. Looks like she could tear you to shreds with her teeth alone.”

“Oh she can, and she will,” said Velvette. “She’s a fucking cannibal so keep your distance. Or don’t. Would be amusing watching her literally rip your head off.” Velvette shot him a menacing grin causing him to flip her off.

“We’ll do it at Shame and Regret,” said Vox, ignoring the two.

“What? The Catholic themed club? Voxxy why?” whined Valentino.

“You said you like the theme. Reminded you of all your fantasies growing up as an altar boy. Besides, if Adam’s there then the theme works perfect. He’s from Heaven and all that shit. The place is classier than most. We’re doing it there.”

“A catholic themed club? Really?” asked Adam skeptically.

“It’s still a club. Has speakeasy vibes. Typical this old man would like it,” she said as she indicated towards Vox. “But speakeasy’s are in so it’s a good choice.”

“I can dig it,” said Adam.

They continued to discuss the finer details of the party, Val and Adam getting into the planning of the music and drinks and drugs. Vox started to tune it out, glad that Val’s attention had been diverted from him mostly, allowing him to scroll through his phone once more. While planning a party was just another thing to add to his plate, at least it would distract Valentino for some time.

That’s when Vox received another text. This one wasn’t from Velvette, however, and his eyebrows raised fractionally. He hadn’t heard from the Princess since the Overlord’s meeting and his heart skipped a beat.

Charlie:
Hey, do you think we could talk?

Vox’s anxiety increased. That didn’t sound good. He thought of the bolt of electricity Vox had struck Alastor with and the blood that fell from his wound. He’d taken the antidote with him though and it worked according to Velvette.

“I’ve gotta take a call,” said Vox in way of explanation once he got up to walk out onto the balcony. Valentino and Adam ignored him, but Velvette’s eyes followed him.

Once outside he closed the screen door and with a slightly shaking finger he hit dial.

“Vox! I didn’t think you’d actually give me a call! And so soon after I texted you.” Charlie’s voice filtered through the speaker of the phone, voice excitable with a slight edge of nervousness. While the nervousness made Vox anxious in turn, he figured that her voice wouldn’t be so enthusiastic if she was delivering him bad news.

“You said we needed to talk. Seemed urgent,” he said.

“Well I don’t know if it’s urgent necessarily, I mean I DO need to talk to you, or wanted to talk to you. But I mean if you’re busy right now too then I won’t take up your time. But if you’re free too then of course, we can talk now! I’d be happy to-!”

“Charlie,” Vox said, cutting off her ramble. “Just-” he sighed, feeling suddenly exhausted. “What is it?”

There was a long pause where Vox could here the distant voices of Val and Adam, muffled through the glass. There wasn’t any noise coming through Charlie’s end of the phone so she must be alone or her rambunctious hotel crew was silent for once.

“Are you ok?” she finally asked, voice soft. “It’s just…I’ve been worried. About you. And Al.”

He frowned but schooled his voice into a curious but steady tone, not betraying any unease. “Worried about me and Alastor? Why?”

“Rosie stopped by today.” Vox frowned.

“Oh?” he said, his voice cracking slightly.

“Yeah she, uh, said some things that were concerning.” Vox could imagine the girl chewing on her nails or twisting her hands together anxiously. “She said you told her that you and Alastor fought?”

If you could call it that. Alastor wasn’t exactly strong enough to put up any sort of real fight. “Sort of,” he said slowly. “What exactly did Rosie tell you?”

“That Alastor showed up on your territory unannounced and you were defending yourself against him. And then you struck him with electricity and well…Rosie seemed pretty convinced that he had died.” Charlie trailed off towards the end, sounding unsure.

Vox wasn’t exactly surprised. He knew that Rosie would run off to the hotel. He knew she would try to confirm with her own eyes if Alastor was dead or alive. He wasn’t even exactly surprised that Charlie had called him to confront him about the fight he and Alastor had had. He just wasn’t sure what she was hoping to get out of this.

“Why are you calling, Charlie?” he asked. “You wanting to know if it’s all true? Why don’t you ask Alastor?”

“He ran off with Rosie when she showed up. And well…he’s not always the most forthcoming with information…or honesty.”

Vox barked out a laugh. “You can say that again.” He sobered quickly, staring out over the city. Way off into the distance he could just barely see the hotel looming up on it’s hill. “Well if you want to know the truth then yeah, he showed up at my tower, started a fight he couldn’t win, and fled. End of story.” There might or might not be some details he left out but they were irrelevant.

“You didn’t hurt him though.” It wasn’t a question but a statement. “If anything, he looks better than he has in a while. More agitated, maybe, but physically fine.”

Vox waited for more, but she remained silent. Interesting. So Alastor is up walking around, better than ever, but hasn’t told the rest of the hotel that he’s healed. “You have a question in there, Princess?”

“I don’t know. Not really, I guess.” They lapsed into silence again. If Vox concentrated hard enough, he could just barely make out the tower on the side of the hotel, the radio tower. It was dark though, devoid of life.

“Velvette came by the other day too,” Charlie said. Now that did surprise Vox. He turned around, leaning his back against the railing and looking inside Valentino’s apartment. Velvette was typing away at her phone, but it was like she sensed his gaze or the more likely option, watching out of the corner of her eye for him, for she looked up and made eye contact. “She said something about how she thought Alastor could offer her help, but he couldn’t. Wouldn’t. I don’t know but she seemed on edge before she left. Wouldn’t tell me what she needed help with either.”

Vox’s mind wondered back to the other day when Velvette walked into his bedroom and told him her antidote worked. Told him that she had tested it and that they could use it as leverage against Alastor. She’d mentioned having some sort of plan and that Alastor owed them. Seemed she had gone to the hotel to collect on the debt Velvette felt Alastor owed due to giving him the antidote. But it hadn’t gone well by the sounds of things.

Why hadn’t Velvette told him? Did they fight too? Did she get hurt? It sounded like Velvette walked out of the hotel on her own accord but that didn’t mean she still hadn’t gotten hurt. He frowned and in turn Velvette did too as she watched him. She mouthed words at him. ‘What’s wrong’. He turned around and looked back out at the hotel.

Had she told Alastor anything about…him? He swallowed thickly.

“Vox,” said Charlie, snapping his attention back to her. “Do you need help?”

He laughed nervously. “What makes you ask that?”

“It’s just…ever since I’ve met you you’ve just seemed…lost. And I know I’ve told you multiple times now that if you need help that the hotel’s doors are always open to you. I mean that, I really do. I just worry because it seems like there’s something more going on that everyone else seems privy to. Velvette. Alastor. Now Rosie. And I get the feeling it’s not just some Overlord’s business.”

God, she sounded so sincere. Always so sincere. Even that first time she had offered him help if he needed any he never doubted her sincerity. How the fuck did Hell produce someone like that?

Vox ran a hand down his screen, exhausted. He looked down at the street far below him. Just one small little tumble over would give him a small break while he regenerated. Just a break. At the thought his feet firmly planted to the ground and wouldn’t budge. He sighed. Typical.

“Don’t worry too much about it, Princess. Velvette is one of my business partners and knows all my secrets.” Quite literally now. “And there’s always something going on between Alastor and I. Has been for decades now and it’s not going to change anytime soon. It’s nothing to worry about.”

“But Rosie-”

“Doesn’t know half as much as she makes others think she knows. Yeah, she knows Alastor and I fought the other week. That’s it. And that’s all that happened. That’s all that ever happens. We argue. We fight. One of us limps away to lick their wounds. Rinse and repeat.”

“Right,” said Charlie, sounding anything but convinced. But she didn’t argue. “I just…worry you know?”

Vox smiled then, genuinely touched by her concern. It wasn’t every day in Hell that someone cared for you in such a way. “Yeah. I know.”

Vox looked over his shoulder, looking back into the apartment. Val and Adam were still talking amongst themselves, oblivious of the world around them. He then noticed Velvette who was staring back at him, concern plain in her eyes. She got up, as if the renewed eye contact was all the permission she needed. He turned back around, thinking the thought that was brewing was a bad one but one he didn’t want to discard.

He heard the door open and close behind him, music trailing from inside temporarily before being silenced once more. “Hey, since I got you on the phone I should tell you that the Vee’s are throwing a party next week at one of our clubs. I don’t know if it’s really your scene but you’re welcome to come. Anyone else from your hotel too if they want. I’m sure Angel will be called to work during it anyways.”

“Oh, a party?” she said wearily.

“Nothing crazy. Well, that’s likely a lie. With Val involved and Adam being there I’m sure things won’t be tame by any means, but it’ll be at one of our nicer clubs. Classier, if you will.”

Velvette came to stand next to him, leaning her elbows on the railing and shooting him a curious look. He ignored her and focused on the phone call. “Look it’s a good way to network. A couple other Overlords will likely be present and you’re the Princess. With your mom back in town and you getting involved with Heaven, it might be a good idea for you to make some other allies.”

It was a good excuse. Hide the fact that Vox’s invitation had more to do with him just wanting Charlie to be there. And it’s not like Val could get too crazy with the Princess of Hell there. Right?

“Oh that’s so sweet Vox!” said Charlie, taking the opportunity for her to make connections as some sort of personal favor or whatever. “Yes! We’ll definitely be there!”

‘We’, she said. He wondered who all she’d be able to drag along with her. No doubt her angelic girlfriend would be there, worried about any possible threats. If Angel would be there then Husk might make an appearance, hard to say. And surely Angel’s little cyclops friend would come too. Speaking of cyclops, Vox genuinely hoped Nifty would be there too. Oh, the looks on Valentino’s and Adam’s faces when she’d arrive. Probably would cause him unnecessary trouble later but it would be priceless!

And then there was Alastor. He’d never accepted the Vee’s invitations in the past that had only ever been extended out of curtesy due to all the other Overlord’s being invited. But with everything that had been going on recently he wondered if this would be the time he’d accept the invitation. If only as an excuse to cause more trouble.

Vox internally groaned. He’d originally agreed to the party to cause him less trouble with Valentino but here he was, creating scenarios that would likely just cause more headaches for him. Perhaps he was just an unknowing masochist. Would explain so many of the shit situations he found himself in over the years. Maybe he really was the one to blame for all the pain he’s experienced, making decisions that he knew wouldn’t be good for him. He was in Hell after all. Clearly God or whoever thought he was to blame to some extent at the very least.

“Great. I’ll send you the invitation when I know all the details.”

“Perfect! I can’t wait!”

And then the line disconnected. Velvette was still scowling at him from beside him. “Who the Hell was that? Not the bloody Princess, was it?”

Vox sighed. “Yes, Vel. It was the Princess.”

“Are you mental? Throwing some party to showcase Adam for all of Hell to see. Then inviting the Princess and her little posy. You trying to piss off Val?” she said irritated.

“Yeah, and what about you,” he turned to her accusingly. “Will you stop being so obvious about your new-found hatred of him? He finds out that someone else knows and he’ll use that to his advantage since he can’t fucking tell anyone about the damned deal!”

She looked away in reproach, her hands gripping the railing in a white knuckled chokehold. She shook her head. “I just can’t fucking do it ok. Watching him touch you. Be with you knowing what I know. He just acts so fucking innocent, and I hate it.” She hit the railing with one fist. “I hate HIM.”

His shoulders drooped slightly, feeling guilty for letting her find out. He knew she’d react like this and that it would tear her up inside. “I know. Just, please, don’t antagonize him needlessly. Or Adam for that matter.”

“Fuck Adam,” she sneered. “I don’t care if he’s the First Man. If I can’t fuck with Val then he’s the next best thing.”

“No just-” Vox grabbed her arm, forcing her to look at him. “Don’t antagonize him either ok. He also knows.”

Velvette paused and then cried out, “The fuck do you mean he knows?!”

Vox shushed her, looking anxiously back towards the apartment but neither occupant noticed them. “Will you be quiet? Fuck!” He turned her back towards the railing, making it appear as if they were just having a nonchalant talk in case the other two decided to look outside. “Look, I know I probably should have told you earlier but so much shit has been going on and I just didn’t have the energy or really even thought to tell you, ok? But fucking Adam’s demonic powers allow him to see if someone owns another soul and if they’re owned in turn.”

“Bullshit.”

“I’m not making this up. Why the Hell would I make this up?”

Velvette took deep breaths as he watched out of the corner of her eye as she processed the new information. “Fuck. Fuck!” She raised one hand to hit the railing again but thought better of it, slowly bringing it back down so as not to cause a scene. “Fuck,” she said far more quietly. “This is not good, Vox. Not good at all.”

“Yeah you’re telling me. But it might not be all bad.” He said, patching into his camera in Valentino’s living room, making sure to keep an eye on them and that they were distracted. “He was able to literally grab ahold of my chain the other week. Pulled me right out of my seat.”

“How the fuck is that not all bad?” Velvette shot him a disbelieving look.

“Because he thinks with more souls, more power, he might be able to break my chain Vel.” He looked at her with barely contained hope. “He might be able to break me free.”

Instead of looking excited she frowned. “Says who?”

He blinked. “Says Adam.”

“Yeah, and? Sounds like he doesn’t even know if he can do that and even if he could, what’s stopping him from just breaking all the chains you hold the end of instead? Make you powerless. Then what?”

Vox began to shake his head back and forth despite having had all the same concerns himself. “Vox, listen,” she said imploringly. “You’re worried about Val finding out that I know because you think he’ll use that to his advantage to manipulate the situation. Now you tell me that Adam knows, the arsehole he’s been all buddy buddy with for weeks now. Who’s to say they aren’t manipulating you right now?”

Vox looked at the two, laughing away inside, unaware of the discussion outside. There was no audio to the cameras inside but he imagined they were still talking about the party. “No,” he said. “I know Val and this is one manipulation he isn’t utilizing.”

“Oh yeah? And how the fuck would you know?” growled Velvette. “Because you know him so well, that it? Well clearly you don’t otherwise you wouldn’t have fucking sold your soul to him in the first place!”

Vox reared back, feeling as if he’d been struck. Velvette stared wide-eyed at him, realizing what she had said. She opened her mouth as if to say something more but no sound came out. Before she could gain her baring, Vox got up close and snarled in her face in a low voice.

“Fuck. You,” he bit out. “Yeah, it’s my fault for trusting the guy. Yeah, I’m a fucking idiot. But believe it or not but the past several decades under his thumb has made me more the wise as to who he really is. When I tell you he doesn’t fucking know that Adam knows then he doesn’t fucking know.”

The look on her face was too much, he had to look away. He hated getting angry with Velvette. She was all he had left.

“Vox, I-I-” She hesitated. “I’m sorry ok. I didn’t mean to imply Val owning your soul was your fault-”

“Well, it is,” he cut her off but didn’t look her way. “I’ve known for a long time now that it was my fault, and I fucked up. You wouldn’t be the first to think that it was.” He looked back towards the hotel and that damned radio tower. “But this is my chance, Vel. My chance to put my mistake right. Break free of my chain and do it without anyone else ever finding out. Because this, all of this,” he indicated towards their district with its flashing lights and neon signs. “Will be for nothing if the rest of Hell finds out that one of their Overlords is on a chain themselves. I’ve built this place from the ground up, from ashes. I can’t have anyone else find out, you understand?”

Velvette averted her eyes when he looked towards her. She looked almost…guilty. He furrowed his eyebrows together.

“Vel,” he said slowly. “No one else knows right?” He thought of his conversation with Charlie and her mentioning Velvette had gone to the hotel and had some sort of disagreement with Alastor when she asked him for help.

He could feel his pulse quickening. Had she actually told Alastor? “You didn’t fucking tell Alastor, right?”

“What?” she asked in surprise, head whipping his way. “No! What would make you say that?”

“Because Charlie told me about your visit to the hotel!” He said, head reeling. “Please tell me you didn’t tell him. Please, Velvette. You promised.” He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, pounding so loudly. Surely Velvette could hear it too.

“No! No, Vox! I didn’t tell him!” Her eyes were wide and she grabbed at him, keeping him steady. “Fuck. Just-just calm down ok. I didn’t tell him, I swear to you.”

He took a couple deep breaths to calm himself. “Promise?”

She gave one firm nod. “I promise.”

His shoulders dropped in relief. He let out a deep breathe, his hand grabbing at his heart. "Thank fuck," he croaked. "I really can't have Alastor of all people finding out, ok? No one but he's the last person I want knowing." His pride couldn't handle it if Alastor said, "I told you so."

Velvette grimaced and rubbed his arm. "Yeah. Yeah, I get it."

Vox felt bad, yelling at her and the accusing her of telling someone about his secret. This was Velvette he was talking about. She wouldn't do something like that to him. "Hey," he said, drawing her gaze back to him. "Thanks."

"For what?" she asked in disbelief.

"For being such a great friend. I know I freaked out there for a second but I don't think you'd actually go telling anyone about my shit situation. And I know I never wanted you to find out in the first place but you - you've been one Hell of a rock for me." He gave a small sincere smile, his eyes prickling. "Even before. I don't think you truly realize just how much your friendship has meant to me. I didn't have shit until you showed up here."

There was moisture gathering at the corners of Velvette's wide eyes. She then blinked rapidly, looking away and attempting to wipe discreetly at her eyes. "Oh - shut up."

Vox just laughed and then pulled her into a hug which she returned with a bruising grip. As he stared over her shoulder at the hotel in the distance, Velvette buried her face into his shoulder, hiding the guilt she couldn't keep off her face.

Notes:

In 1921:
Alastor is 31

In 1923:
Alastor is 33
Grace is 18

Historical facts and general information about this chapter:

The 18th Amendment, ratified in 1919, made the manufacture, sale, and transportation of alcoholic beverages illegal nationwide. However, Prohibition in the United States wasn't enforced until 1920 to 1933.

Speakeasy bars date back to at least the 1880s, but came into prominence in the US during the Prohibition era. Many businesses would set up their speakeasies to attract women to get more profits. Women also began to insert themselves into the business of speakeasies and there is even one such prominent former screen and stage actress, Texas Guinan, who was most well known for the multiple speakeasies she opened up. So me having not just one but two female speakeasy owners (Miss Ruby and now Mimzy) is not that far out of the realm of possibilities. Additionally, the speakeasy-style trend resurfaced in 2000 with the opening of the bar Milk & Honey in New York City.

Storyville was the red-light district of New Orleans, Louisiana, from 1897 to 1917 where prostitution was tolerated and regulated. The area was originally referred to as "The District", but its nickname, "Storyville", soon caught on.

The name Mary can mean "bitter" or "drop of the sea" or "beloved", typically associated with the Biblical figure, the mother of Jesus.

The song "Yes! We Have No Bananas" is an American novelty song by Frank Silver and Irving Cohn published March 23, 1923. It became a major hit in 1923 (placing No. 1 for five weeks) when it was recorded by Billy Jones, Billy Murray, Arthur Hall, Snoopy's Classiks on Toys, Irving Kaufman, and others.

The song "Down Hearted Blues" was sung by Bessie Smith and written by Alberta Hunter and Lovie Austin. It was originally released in late May 1923. Yes, this song was picked specifically for Grace's introduction.

In the Bible, the story of Cain and Abel is told in the Book of Genesis. In the Bible it is said that Cain killed Abel out of jealousy and anger. I know in the show it is said that Adam was the first human soul in Heaven but we're just going to ignore that because in the Bible Adam and Eve were alive when Cain killed Abel. And also, I just think exploring the possibility of both Adam and Eve being alive and being the first parents to experience the loss of a child is far more interesting than the picture canon has painted.

Shame and Regret is a real speakeasy styled bar in Colorado. Has vague Catholic church vibes. The Vee's club of the same name would be more clubby though but still hold a speakeasy style.

 

This was honestly more of a transitionary chapter I feel like. More setting up for what's to come and I think that's why it took me so long to write. I just REALLY want to get to the party next chapter. It's going to be "fun"!

As always, stay tuned for the next chapter!

Chapter 24: A Monster Reflected Through Time

Summary:

It's 1938 and then 1940. Harvey lends a hand to Xavier, and then Grace and Xavier have a fight.

In the present the Vee's throw a party.

Notes:

Look at me go! Updating only a week and a half later? That's practically unheard of for me! Don't expect updates to continue to happen as quickly. Here's just a little special treat for all of you. Enjoy!

TW: dubious consent, drug use, attempted rape

1938

Xavier sat, staring hard at the pictures laid out before him.

There were several of them spread out on the table after he had thumbed through the stack. Some were of his family home growing up, with a foreclosure sign out front. Some were of his mother, being forced out. But there were several photos of her, homeless, without a penny to her name.

“What do you think?”

Xavier’s eyes fell to one photo of his mother, looking particularly crushed as she sat in a dirty alleyway with others like her, all dressed in rags and filthy. Xavier couldn’t bring himself to feel sympathy for the other downtrodden, relishing the fact they would add to his mother’s misery.

“She has nothing?” he asked, eyes still stuck to the misery he saw on his mothers face. “Truly, she has nothing left?”

He felt a firm hand pat his shoulder. “Not a cent.”

Xavier shook his head. “I can’t believe you actually managed this.”

Harvey laughed from behind him. “I told you, just let me handle everything and it would all be taken care of. The money was yours; it was easy for my lawyers to seize it all without having to take her to criminal court. If she refused, she was facing serious prison time for the thousands of dollars she stole from you. It was easy as pie.”

Xavier frowned, eyes falling to his mothers neck that was covered by a dirty blanket that she had wrapped around herself. “But…what about…?”

Harvey’s hand squeezed his shoulder. “There’s no evidence,” he said softly. “Any injuries she sustained have long since healed. She’d just be embarrassing herself if she tried accusing her famous son of assault. No one would believe her.”

No evidence. Except for Grace who witnessed everything. If his mother tried going to the police, would Grace tell the truth? Did he want her to?

Harvey pulled out the chair next to him, taking a seat. He sat facing Xavier, giving him a sympathetic look. “Hey, don’t worry. If she tries twisting the media against you, make you look like a terrible son for not helping her through this depression then we’ll destroy her with the story about her not getting your sister the proper care she deserved.” Xavier cringed. “I’ll make sure that the prison time she thought she dodged will come for her tenfold. She thinks she’s miserable now? Wait till she faces America’s prison system.”

And that’s exactly what he wanted. His mother despondante. His entire childhood was misery with an unloving mother like her and an abusive father. He just never fully realized how far her lack of feeling or care for her children went until Olivia’s death. What sort of mother buys fine China and dresses while her sick daughter wastes away in a sanitorium?

She deserved this, he reminded himself as he bore a hole into the photo of his mother. She deserved to suffer.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Xavier could hear the smile in Harvey’s voice as he said, “Of course.” His hand that was still on his shoulder moved to his neck, stroking. “It’s my pleasure.”

Harvey moved one of the photos of his old family home forward. “What would you like to do about the house? My lawyers are already in talks with the bank of buying it. It would be all yours.”

“Mine?” he asked with a slight curious lit.

“Yes. You could do whatever you want with it.”

Xavier hummed as the fingers rubbed pleasantly into the hairs at the nape of his neck. “Tear it down?”

Harvey chuckled. “If you so desire.”

Xavier gave a single definitive nod. “Do it.”

“Done.” Harvey leaned forward, twisting his fingers into his hair. Xavier allowed it. He allowed Harvey to also place a gentle kiss to his cheek and then his lips. He allowed himself to be pulled deeper, surrendering to the familiar sensations. Harvey pulled back slightly, allowing just enough space between his lips to whisper, “Are you happy?”

Happy may be a strong word for what he felt. Satisfied was too. He felt…vindicated in sending his mother to the streets. He felt a sick sense of pleasure knowing that she would suffer. But he wasn’t happy. How could he be? His sister was dead.

“Yes,” he gasped out instead, knowing it’s what Harvey expected.

Harvey smiled. “Good.”

Xavier also knew that Harvey expected to be rewarded for what he had done for him. His actions weren’t selfless, they never were. Xavier knew exactly what sort of price he had to pay and for the first time, he would pay it without any sort of hesitation.

Xavier shed his suit jacket and tie, pulling his suspenders over his shoulders. He allowed Harvey to lazily unbutton his shirt, pulling it from his waistband before starting on his belt. Xavier willingly stripped and allowed the hungry eyes to roam over his naked body. He allowed the hands on his thighs and rear when he climbed into Harvey’s lap and the hungry kiss at his neck. He allowed Harvey to devour him and for the first time, he allowed himself to lose himself to the pleasure his body felt with the older man, forgetting about all the other times he could not.

Once they were both spent, Xavier leaned his head against Harvey’s shoulder as he regained his breath. Harvey’s hands roamed over his back idly, tracing patterns into his skin and causing him to shiver. In the aftermath reality began to set in, as did the shame. The hands that were welcome only moments ago now made his skin prickle uncomfortably.

He leaned back; his cheeks flushed when he noticed the state of Harvey’s shirt. “I uh, ruined your shirt.”

Harvey shrugged and gave him a smug smile. “I’ve got spares here. Don’t you worry.” He gave Xavier a wink, making the reasoning for spare clothes more than clear. Xavier knew he wasn’t the only one Harvey frequently fucked. Jack was a perfect example of that.

Xavier gave a forced smile. “Right.” He slowly pushed himself up, winching when Harvey pulled out of him. He got to slightly unsteady feet and began to dress as quickly as he could without making it seem like he was rushing out of there.

“You can take the photos if you want,” said Harvey who had walked over to a tall cabinet in the corner. He pulled out a shirt and began to change. “A souvenir.”

Xavier stared down at the photos on the table as he buttoned up his shirt, frowning. What if Grace found the photos? What would she think?

“I think I’m ok. Don’t want Grace to find them.”

“You don’t think she’d take pleasure in your mother’s pain too? Thought she was fond of your sister too.”

Xavier shrugged as he pulled his suspenders back into place. “I think she’d understand but not agree,” he said wearily.

“She might surprise you,” said Harvey, rubbing any wrinkles out of his new shirt and jacket. “She’s got some fire in her.”

Xavier hummed but didn’t comment. Harvey walked over to him, adjusting Xavier’s tie for him. Once he was presentable Harvey smiled. Xavier then allowed the lingering kiss that would have been sweet if it came from anyone else.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” said Harvey who turned around to go back to his desk. It was more than enough dismissal for Xavier who made a beeline for the door. “Oh, and Xavier.” He paused, looking over his shoulder. “This is a good thing,” he said, pointing towards the table full of photos. “Don’t let guilt or remorse cloud your mind. You did nothing wrong, she did. Remember that.”

Xavier stared at him for several seconds before averting his eyes and nodding. He couldn’t get out of the room quickly enough.

On his way home Xavier thumbed the single photo he snuck into his pocket. He didn’t know why he hide it. Surely Harvey would realize the photo was missing and clearly he had no problem with it. But he couldn’t help but feel like it was something he had to hide.

It’s not like what they did was illegal. His mother was the one who used the money meant for Olivia on herself. Everything that Harvey’s lawyers did was within the bounds of the law. But it had resulted in his mother’s eviction and homelessness.

And the worst part was…he didn’t feel any guilt.

Should he feel guilt? He thought maybe he should. She was his mother despite the lack of love on both their parts. That meant something, right? But if it did then it would come to reason that his mother wouldn’t have used the money meant for Olivia’s surgeries on herself, paying for frivolous items. Olivia was dead because of her. So why would he feel any guilt for forcing his mother onto the streets?

Harvey told him not to feel remorse. But the thing was…he didn’t. And that’s what concerned Xavier most.

He pulled into the driveway of his home, turning off the car and staring up at the lights inside. He could just make out the figure of Grace as she walked past one of the windows. The photo in his pocket felt heavy and he shoved it as far down as he could.

He locked the car door and front door behind him as he made his way inside, pulling off his shoes and discarding his jacket, dragging his tie over his head and unbottoning the topmost button of his shirt.. His skin felt sticky underneath his shirt and pants after his encounter with Harvey and he wanted to go upstairs and shower but also didn't want to make Grace suspicious so he walked into the kitchen where he knew she was at.

The smell of cooking assailed his senses and his stomach growled. "Mmmm, what's for dinner?" It was something she enjoyed doing, cooking for them. She always had enjoyed doing so even back when they lived together with Olivia in New York City. Said it made her feel close to her brother.

"Crawfish Étouffée," she said with a scowl as she stirred a pot.

"Again?" he said as he sniffed over the pot.

She huffed. "I know you said it's already perfect but it's just not quite right. Something is off."

Xavier tried to stick a finger into the pot to take a taste but a spoon promptly smacked his knuckles. Reluctantly, he withdrew his hand and walked to grab a bottle of whiskey in their liquor cabinet, pouring him a generous cup. "I'm sure if your brother could taste it he'd say it was fine."

Grace scoffed. "And that's where you're wrong. The man was a snob when it came to cooking and always made it known when he didn't think the food he was eating was cooked to perfection."

Xavier hummed at the familiar burn of the liquor. A few more of these and he'd be pleasantly numb. "My palate isn't as refined I guess. But I think no matter what you make it's always wonderful."

Grace eyeballed the glass that Xavier was already refilling. "Don't drink too much. I bought us a bottle of wine to share for dinner."

Xavier frowned. "I'll be fine. I'll have room for the wine too during dinner."

Grace hummed, her eyes flickering to his neck before turning back to the pot as she kept stirring and sprinkled in spices. She paused and then, "How was Harvey?"

Xavier blinked in confusion. "How did you know I saw Harvey today?"

She shrugged, not looking up. "It's just I've noticed after you see him you tend to...drink more." There was something about the forced nonchalance in her tone that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

"I'm fine," he said, flinching at his repetiton of the phrase. "He's fine. We just talked business and the new movie we're working on."

She hummed which for some reason grated on his nerves. "What?" he barked out.

She frowned before looking up. "What?"

His nostrils flared. "It just seems like you want to say something."

Grace's brows remained furrowed as she placed the spoon down. She turned her back to the pot and crossed her arms, leaning her back against the counter. She stared at him for several seconds and Xavier couldn't help but feel like he was under a microscope. "Look," she said slowly. "I'm just...worried about you. That's all."

Xavier finally broke eye contact, suddenly feeling guilty for making her worried. He took another sip of his whiskey and then internally kicked himself for doing so. "I'm fine." Goddamn it. That damn phrase again.

"Are you?" Grace's voice sounded so concerned and the guilt increased. "Xavier, look at me, please."

After several seconds he finally turned and he wished he hadn't. Her eyes were so sad. "You know I love you, right?" she asked. Xavier frowned but nodded, worried where this was going. "And I think by now you know that no matter what I'll love you." Her words back in the cemetary after he fled his old family home rung through his mind. "I want you to know that you can talk to me." She closed the couple feet of distance between them, grabbing his free hand and squeezing gently. "About anything."

She looked up at him with such sincerity and it hurt. Harvey hadn't looked at him like that even after helping him. But Grace always looked at him like that. Just like Olivia had. The picture in his pocket felt heavy once more.

He thought about reaching into his pocket and taking it out. He thought about showing her and telling her what he had done. Not just about forcing his mother into the poor house but everything else. About what he did to make money. Everything he had done to get to where he was now.

He opened his mouth but the sad look in her eyes made him stop. What if she looked at him with disapointment instead? She was all he had left and he couldn't bare it.

Instead he gave her his best winning smile and placed a kiss to the back of her hand. "I know." He stroked her knukcles, lovingly. "And I love you too, more than anything. I couldn't ask for a better wife."

Despite his efforts there still seemed to a bit of disapointment that entered her eyes. Her shoulders drooped slightly but she made no further comment. She smiled at him too and squeezed his hand before letting go and continuing to stir. "Damn straight. And don't you forget it."

Xavier let out a laugh, leaning into the playful banter. "Oh don't you worry, I won't." He quickly grabbed his drink, finishing off the rest of his drink behind Grace's back. "I'm going to go clean up before dinner."

Grace nodded as he walked out, making his quick escape. Once in the bathroom he sighed in relief. He was kicking himself and his cowardice for not just coming clean. This was Grace he was talking about! He had been so close to confessing everything to Olivia right before the end but now he was reluctant to do the same with Grace?

But things had changed. He'd nearly killed his mother. And Grace witnessed it. And now what would she say about him forcing his mother to the streets? She said that she loved him and while she might not agree with his actions she said she'd love him no matter what. But was that true? Was her love truly unconditional?

He let out another sigh, running a hand down his face before looking up into his reflection in the mirror. That's when he saw a flash of color at his neck. He pulled his shirt collar slightly to the side and saw a blooming hickey right at the juncture between his neck and shoulder. He swallowed thickly as he thought about Grace's eyes flickering to his exposed neck. She knew he had gone to see Harvey after she saw his neck. He felt a sinking feeling.

"Shit."
______________________________________
Vox stood on the upper level of the club; arms crossed as he scanned the crowded room. He still hadn’t seen Charlie or her friends, which he was grateful for but the lack of them showing up was only making him agitated at the anticipation. He shouldn’t have invited her, he thought. What was he thinking? Her little motley crew was only going to make more trouble for him, he just knew it.

Two sets of arms circled him from behind. It took everything within his power not to stiffen as he was pulled back into a hug. “Come on, baby. You’re always so stressed when we throw one of these parties. You just need to relaxxxxx! Nothing bads going to happen.”

Easy for him to say, Vox was always the one cleaning up the messes at these parties that Valentino is usually not even privy to due to being high or drunk or stuck between the legs of another. Granted if Valentino was thoroughly distracted at this party, then MAYBE there wouldn’t actually be any sort of mess to clean up. Oh, who was he kidding, if Charlie showed up with her group, more specifically her resident Overlord, then surely there would be trouble.

“Trust me. You just need to get a little fucked up and you’ll feel much better,” purred Valentino into Vox’s audio processors. Ha! Trust him? That ship sailed long ago. But getting a drink wasn’t a bad idea. It would take the edge off at least.

“Alright, fine,” he sighed. He allowed himself to be pulled away to the club’s most lavish table, up on a slightly raised platform to overlook the rest of the club. It was the Vee’s usual spot whenever they came here, displaying their power and status over the rest.

Adam and Velvette were both back at the table, Adam with an arm around two female Demons, chatting them up, while Velvette rolled her eyes. Velvette noticed their approach and shot a glare at Valentino’s arm wrapped around Vox’s shoulders but thankfully didn’t comment. They took a seat next to Velvette, trapping her and Vox in the middle and forcing her closer to Adam. She scrunched up her nose in distaste but still kept her thoughts to herself. It seemed Vox’s talk with her the week prior had gotten through to her.

“What are you thinking, Voxy?” asked Val. “Cosmopolitan? Sex on the beach? Dirty martini?”

“Whiskey on the rocks is fine,” he said, his usual preferred drink choice and Val knew it, yet he always tried to push his cocktails on him.

“So boring,” Val huffed but still raised his hand at the closest cocktail server. When he saw who it was, Val gave a wicked grin. “Oh Angel Cakes! Baby, we’re in need of some refreshments.”

Angel, the only member of the hotel who was so far present, came over to their table with a barely concealed weary look he shot at Valentino. His eyes then shifted to the arm Val had around Vox’s shoulders, just like Velvette’s had, before making eye contact. Vox frowned. Angel and Vox had gone for so long now ignoring each other’s existence while in the presence of Valentino, to have Angel even acknowledge him in such a small way was odd. What was even odder was the lack of any animosity he saw there. Angel looked almost…pitying.

“I’ll have a strawberry daiquiri and Voxy here will have whiskey on the rocks. Make sure it’s all the top shelf stuff. None of the cheap crap we sell the low lives,” said Val with a smile, running one of his spare hand’s underneath Angel’s chin seductively. It was clear that Angel found it anything but appealing but that didn’t deter Val. It never did. Vox looked away, not wanting to see the display, his stomach twisting uncomfortably whenever he saw Valentino act this way with Angel.

When Vox turned his head, it was to see Velvette sitting next to him, staring intensely at Angel with a look he couldn’t read. That was odd too. Velvette had never seemed to pay much attention to any of Val’s whores before, focused on her own work or her phone most times. But then again, he supposed the reveal of Vox’s…predicament put things more in perspective for her. Maybe when she looked at Angel, she saw him which Vox absolutely did not like.

Angel couldn’t scurry away fast enough, making a beeline for the bar but getting lost in the crowd. Adam groaned, pulling his attention away from the spider. “Ugh! This party is lame! I thought we were going to get fucked up?”

“It’s still early, don’t you worry. The party doesn’t really start until it gets closer to midnight,” said Valentino.

“Whatever,” Adam huffed. He got to his feet, pulling the two Demonesses with him. “Come on ladies. Let’s go dance!”

At least Vox didn’t have to deal with Adam for the time being. Velvette seemed to think the same thing, moving over to take up Adam’s spot, probably in the hopes that if he came back, he’d take the opposite side of the table next to Valentino. Vox couldn’t help but try and scoot closer to her too but the arms around him kept him from going far.

Angel showed back up not much later, placing the alcohol on the table without looking up at the Overlords. Valentino handed Vox his drink, the two clanking their drinks together before each taking generous sips.

“Drink up, baby! Tonight, we are going to get fucked up!” Valentino said. Thankfully the bartender had filled his glass up to the rim. He wondered if that was the bartender’s own doing or if Angel requested it. Either way, it was a blessing, preventing him from having to wait more often for more drinks. Because Valentino was right, Vox knew that he was going to get fucked up tonight and by Satan, he needed it.

He could feel the pleasant buzz from his whiskey, coursing through his veins and making his head light. The hands that he normally hated feeling on him didn’t feel as suffocating and Vox even allowed Valentino to pull him onto the dance floor without complaint, actually enjoying feeling Valentino pushed up against his back despite the terrible pounding music. Yes, this is what he needed. When he got drunk like this it was like he could fool himself into thinking it was those early days, before his chain. Back in that short lived in-between time, between tragedies. Constantly getting fucked up with Valentino, drowning out the sorrow of losing Alastor and all his other friends.

But it wasn’t quite enough because in the corner of the room Vox’s attention kept getting pulled back towards Velvette who was no longer hiding her disdain, glaring at Vox dancing with Valentino and even Adam. And he still couldn’t quite shake the anxiety over the continual anticipation of Charlie and her crew showing up. There Angel stood in the other corner of the room, shooting strange looks his way. His skin was prickling and not in the pleasant way that the alcohol made him feel.

“Baby what is it?” purred Valentino as he bent down, plastering himself to Vox’s back. His hands roamed over Vox’s chest and thighs, their hips swaying together. “You feel tense.”

“No, no, I’m good,” he said, forcing one of his giant smiles. “I just think I need another drink is all.”

Valentino hummed but didn’t let him go. Instead, one of his many hands started riffling through his pants pockets. He pulled out a baggie full of bright pink pills. “Orrrr you can have some of these.”

His brows furrowed slightly. “What are they?” He narrowed his eyes and pulled the bag closer to his face to get a good look. He didn’t recognize the pills.

“It’s some new drug from Zeezi’s district. All the rage right now. Supposed to have one Hell of a high.”

That’s when they caught Adam’s attention whose eyes zeroed in on the bag of drugs still being held before Vox’s face. “Oh, fuck yeah! Give me some of that!”

Valentino chuckled, opening the bag and pouring a couple pills into Adam’s outstretched hand. Adam handed one pill to each of his Demoneses, taking the remaining two for himself. They all took the pills without complaint and went back to dancing, or rather grinding, against each other.

Vox stared at the bag for a second longer. “Any sort of side effects?”

Valentino shrugged. “Supposed to make some people see shit. Must be some sort of hallucinogenic but since when has that ever stopped you?”

He wasn’t wrong. While Vox had mostly managed to get clean from drugs during his early decades in Hell, after meeting Val he’d started dabbling in drugs again. Only occasionally, but that soon turned to a much higher frequency after Alastor and he had their falling out. Falling into that pleasant buzz that made him forget about all his worries, forget about all the pain, was so familiar. Jack had been the one to first introduce him to such a wonder, and then Val had done the same.

Vox reached out to grab a couple pills from the bag but just as he grabbed a hold of two pills a smaller hand came up and pulled the bag away.

“Hey!” cried out Valentino. “What the fuck, Vel?”

“What are you doing?” she barked out, glaring at Val and then Vox.

“Having a good time, unlike you, babydoll. Sitting over there with a massive stick up your ass isn’t going to get you laid, chica,” sneered Val, reaching his long arms out and yanking the bag away from her.

Velvette scowled at him and then looked at Vox, her features softening slightly. “Vox, you’ve already had like two massive glasses of whiskey. I don’t think adding mystery drugs to the mix is such a good idea.”

He frowned. She’d never tried keeping him from getting fucked up before. This was Hell, everyone did it, especially the Vee’s. Their whole brand was based on entertainment and having a good time. Their district was littered with nightclubs and bars. Drugs flowed through their streets more than actual rain water. Having Velvette try and stop him now was more than a little irritating.

The harsh curve of her furrowed eyebrows and downturned frown made the back of his neck prickle in shame. Was she judging him? Judging how he decided to cope with everything? With Valentino’s arms wrapped around him and his crotch shoved into the small of Vox’s back?

His frown deepened. “I’m fine Vel. I don’t need you to mother me.” He then pulled the bag out of Valentino’s hand and quickly grabbed an unknown number of pills and swallowed. Velvette made a noise of protest, but it was too late.

Valentino laughed from behind him. “Fuck yeah, Voxy! It’s time to fucking party!”

The crowd around them cheered at that and Velvette was jostled back and forth as the dancing increased. Vox lost her to the crowd as he followed the crowd and Valentino, allowing himself to get lost to the drugs, alcohol, and music.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed when Valentino led him back to their table where Velvette sat, arms crossed and practically pouting. She didn’t so much as look up when they fell into the booth next to her. Adam trailed behind them with one of his Demonesses, the other having ran off to who knows where.

Adam laughed. “I gotta say, Hell might be a shit whole, but you guys really know how to party. Heaven doesn’t have ANY parties like this!”

“Heaven’s overrated,” drawled Valentino with a smile, lighting a cigarette and taking a deep puff. “Hell’s where it’s at, baby.”

Adam snorted, resting his head back and throwing his arm around the female Demon who looked plastered. “You might just be right, Val.”

Velvette scoffed from next to Vox. “Seriously?” Vox turned his heavy head towards her, swaying slightly at the motion. She turned a glare towards him and said far quieter just for him, “We’re supposed to be trying to get him OUT of Hell, not wanting him to stay here.”

Vox blinked rapidly at his double vision, trying to make the two Vel’s join together. He squinted his eyes at the flash of wavy blonde hair before his vision settled on her curly dark pink and navy-blue hair. Ahh, there she was. He gave her a goofy smile and leaned his shoulder against her. “Oh relaxxxx. I got this covered! Trust me!” He then giggled at the familiar phrase.

“Yeah, Vel. You’re too uptight. Here, take a pill,” said Valentino who tried offering one of his pills but she sneered and leaned away, making Vox stumble to the side without her support.

“Get the fuck away from me with that shite. I’m not taking anything from you,” she bit out.

Valentino shrugged. “You’re lose.” He then offered the pill to Vox who took it without question.

“Vox!” yelled Velvette in reprimand.

“Oh my God! Stop with all the shrill yelling!” groaned Adam. “If you won’t take any of the drugs then go get another drink or something, Jesus!”

“That’s a great idea!” said Valentino. “Oh Angel! More drinks would ya?” He waved his hand. Vox blinked and it was like Val had summoned the Demon because when he opened his eyes again he was standing right there. “Another round, Angel Cakes. And make them doubles.”

Angel hesitated and looked towards Vox, looking worried. Vox looked away, his head feeling dizzy. He leaned his head against Valentino who drew him closer with an arm wrapping around him. “Ya sure?” asked Angel. “Vox is lookin’ not so hot.”

Valentino let out a dramatic gasp. “No hot? Why, how insulting Angel. No need to throw insults just because you’re jealous.”

Angel huffed. “I’m not jealous I-”

“Just get the drinks,” said Velvette. Vox turned sluggish eyes towards Velvette who gave a hard look towards Angel, her gaze not carrying its normal hardness but still giving no room for argument.

Angel hesitated but then his shoulders drooped. “Sure thang. You uh, mind helpin’ me?”

Valentino gave out a cruel laugh. “Seriously? Asking an Overlord to help? What ARE they teaching you at that hotel? Seems to me like-”

“It’s fine,” she said, cutting off Val. She got up and then she and Angel disappeared.

Valentino scoffed from above him, complaining about the insubordination and disrespect from Angel. Vox only half listened to him as he lazily followed the two with his eyes as they walked towards the bar. As they waited for drinks it looked like they started having some sort of heated debate where Angel kept shooting furtive looks his way. Vox frowned wondering what could that possibly be about but his sluggish brain wasn’t able to put much thought into it outside of wondering when his next drink would arrive.

“You listening, Voxy?”

My foxy Voxy.

Vox’s heart skipped a beat at the old nickname, and he quickly tipped his head back to see…wait?

He blinked rapidly again, trying to force the blurry person before him into focus. He expected to see olive skin with kind chocolate eyes but was met with a pale plump face and balding grey hair. He frowned, confused by where he was.

“Vox, you doing alright, amorcito?” Harvey asked with what looked like real concern in his eyes. Vox wilted. Oh yeah, that’s right. John was dead. He suddenly felt foolish, thinking that he’d see John when he looked up, getting his hopes up. But he was back home, which explained the intoxicated haze he was in.

Vox sighed and then leaned his head against Harvey’s shoulders once more. “Yeah. ’m good,” he slurred.

He heard a laugh from the other side of Harvey. “Looks like someone had a little too much.”

Vox blinked slowly as he turned to look to the side. It was hard for him to focus on Jack’s face too, but he was finally able to do so, scowling at the horns that protruded from his head. When did Jack get horns? Jack didn’t have horns. Not even in Hell.

“Ehh he’ll be fine,” said Harvey with a wave of – wait, was that two right hands? How strange.

He groaned, closing his eyes tight at a wave of nausea. “Wha’ did you give me?” he drawled.

“I already told you,” said Harvey. “Why? You want another?”

When Vox opened his eyes again it was to see a pink pill held between long gloved fingers right before his face. The only thing keeping him from taking it was another wave of nausea. He groaned again and buried his face into the fluff surrounding Harvey’s neck. Harvey laughed. “Don’t worry, Voxy. We’ll get you perked right back up once we get our drinks.”

Vox mumbled, “Don’ callll me tha’. On-only John can call meee th-tha’.”

“What was that, baby?” asked Harvey, unable to hear him. But Vox didn’t respond, too caught up with rubbing his face against the fluff. It was soft and with each rub against it there was more of a prickly static charge tickling his face. “Stop that,” reprimanded Harvey with a laugh. “You know that causes an insane amount of static electricity.”

Vox whined but allowed himself to be pushed back, but the arm still wrapped around his shoulders. He didn’t want Harvey’s arm wrapped around him. He just wanted John. Or Alastor. Or even Izzy.

“Where’s Velvette?” Vox opened his eyes that he hadn’t realized he had closed to see Angel standing before him with a tray of drinks. “I thought she was helping you,” said Harvey with a sneer.

“Restroom,” he said without looking up.

“Didn’t want to help, huh?” Harvey laughed. “She’s an Overlord. You should know better.”

“Yes, Valentino,” came the emotionless response.

“Really, the gall you have to have to even ASK an Overlord to help you, let alone one of the Vee’s!” Harvey’s three other arms moved to grab his, Jack’s and Vox’s drinks, passing each one out and leaving the fourth one where Angel had placed it. “It’s unheard of! We really need to talk about what the Princessa is teaching you if you think that’s acceptable behavior, ESPECIALLY while you’re working.”

Angel frowned, shooting a small scowl up at Harvey but didn’t say anything. Vox stiffened, knowing that Harvey wouldn’t like that. And just as expected, Harvey snapped.

A pink chain shot forwards, wrapping around Angel’s neck and forcing him to be dragged forward’s, bending slightly over the table and knocking the fourth drink to the ground. The spider gasped. “You know I hate it when you give me that look,” growled Harvey. “I thought I beat that out of you but apparently you need another lesson.”

The spider looked terrified, staring open mouthed up at Harvey who towered over all of them. Jack gave a wicked smile at Angel from where he sat with an arm thrown around a terrified looking Demoness.

Then suddenly, the chain disappeared. “It’s a good thing I’m in a good mood tonight so you get a pass. Voxy’s been so sweet to me tonight, I don’t want to ruin any of his fun.” A hand was then placed under his screen, tilting his head up and Vox was dragged into an open-mouthed kiss. His sluggish brain was slow to react but soon all he could do was react and melt into it, his body taking over.

The kiss felt like it lasted forever but when it was finally broken, Vox whimpered at the missing wet heat. He heard a low chuckle. “It’s ok, baby. I won’t deprive you for long. You just need a little extra something. Unfortunately, all the drugs and alcohol are giving you some serious whiskey dick.”

That’s when Vox realized that one of Harvey’s many hands was palming his crotch over his pants. It was uncomfortable and Vox squirmed, wanting the hand to stop touching him there. One of Harvey’s other hands disappeared once more into his pants pocket and pulled a vial with a pink liquid inside. Even through the fog of intoxication, Vox recognized the concoction. He manufactured and sold it, after all. He whined once more.

“That’s it,” Harvey purred. “Papi, will take care of you.”

“What the fuck, Val?” came Angel’s horrified voice. Wait, he was still here? “You’re going to drug him?”

“This ain’t a drug, Angel Cakes. It’s a love potion as I know you are more than aware,” said Harvey with a dangerous edge to his voice. “Vox wants it. Ain’t that right?”

Vox continued to stare at the vial, his heart hammering in his chest in anticipation of the welcome loss of all control. The hand was still stroking him, and he knew what it demanded. He wasn’t able to refuse, he had never been able to refuse, and that little pink vial promised that he would be able to deliver and forget at the same time. The next day Harvey – no Val – no Harvey, was always happy with him. Praising him and pampering him like the old days. It didn’t matter if there were scratches in his back or the soreness between his legs was too much for him to even sit. Tomorrow he would be praised. Tomorrow he would be cared for. Tomorrow he wouldn’t have to give Harvey anything he didn’t want to give. In fact, usually he would be able to get by for at least a week before giving in again.

Yes, Vox very much wanted it.

With an unsteady hand he reached for the vial, wrapping his fingers around Harvey’s own. Harvey chuckled and helped bring the vial directly to his mouth instead of pouring the liquid into Vox’s drink. “So eager. Bottoms up!”

Vox swallowed it down gratefully and sighed, waiting for the feelings of arousal to hit him.

The hand kept stroking and his flaccid cock began to stir. He whined in need.

“What the actual FUCK!?”

Vox jumped and turned, expecting to see Angel still there. Instead, he saw Grace shooting Harvey a murderous look. He frowned.

“You just gave Vox our fucking love potion?!” she said through clenched teeth.

“Relax, babydoll. It’s not like he hasn’t had it before.”

Grace’s eyes widened before narrowing again and she snarled, “You disgusting piece of shite! I can’t believe you’d use our own product on Vox!”

If looks could kill Harvey would be burning alive where he sat. Vox whined again, anxiety grasping at his heart in fear. What was she thinking? He had TOLD her to leave it alone and not worry herself over Harvey. She didn’t know the things he was capable of, and he told her to drop it. He could handle Harvey. He didn’t need her to get hurt. Because if she got hurt because of him, like Olivia had, like John, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. He never had.

“Look, you’re upsetting him,” said Harvey. “If you don’t want to watch then fucking leave.”

“And I think that’s my cue to leave,” said Jack, getting up and pulling the nervous looking Demoness with him. Wait, he thought. If Jack was there then maybe he could be a buffer for Harvey and Grace. But no…Jack was never a buffer. He was just as guilty as Harvey always had been, hadn’t he? The two of them, working far more closely together than Vox had ever realized.

“I said get your FUCKING hands off of him!” Grace then moved her hands in an intricate fashion, looking like a puppeteer controlling her marionette, and then Vox was pulled back and out of Harvey’s lap. Grace then grabbed onto his arm and pulled him to unsteady feet. “And if you don’t want to make a scene which will be plastered all across the internet tomorrow morning, painting YOU in a bad light and thoroughly damaging your image, because believe me, I will do it, then you better keep your arse right where it’s at.”

Vox swayed where he stood, throwing one hand out to balance himself against the table. Grace still had an iron tight grip on his forearm, helping keep him standing. The quick pull to his feet left him nauseous and breathing heavy to keep everything down.

“Maldita perra!” shouted Harvey who then quieted down immediately. “Let him go, Vel. Now.” Vox shivered at the threatening voice. He took a tentative step towards Harvey, but Grace pulled him back. Vox swallowed thickly, bile rising up.

“No,” she said forcefully. “I’m not just going to sit back and watch you fucking RAPE him in the middle of one of our own fucking clubs!”

“Rape? What the fuck, Vel! What are you even talking about? Just let him go-”

“Don’t you DARE play dumb with me!” Grace hissed. “I know exactly who and what you are. I’ve always known but I tried to fool myself into thinking I didn’t.”

“You’re fucking, loca,” Harvey said. “And now who’s making a scene? People are staring.”

“Good, let them stare. But I’m not fucking letting you touch him EVER again you hear me? And I’m getting rid of the love potion. You and all the other shitfucks won’t be able to use it to force anyone ever again!”

Vox swayed, clutching at his stomach and willing it to behave. His legs shook from the need coursing through his veins. Where was John? He wanted John. He could help relieve the ache between his legs.

“The Hell?” Harvey said aghast. “You can’t get rid of OUR love potion? I market it too!”

“The Hell I can’t! It’s my recipe and I’m the one that made it! I should have NEVER allowed it to get reproduced when I realized how badly I fucked up with it.”

“It made us money! A fuck ton of money! You can’t just get rid of something like that-!”

And then Vox vomited, painting the floor in pink. And then he heaved again and again and again.

“Fuck!” shouted Harvey. “That’s disgusting!” Vox was only slightly aware of him scrambling to his feet, exiting the booth on the other side, away from Vox. “Fine! You can have him tonight. Get him the fuck out of here before he ruins the party more.”

Vox whimpered. He was shaking and the room was spinning, making his stomach roll some more. Grace rubbed soothing circles into his back. “It’s ok. You’re ok,” she said softly. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here.”

He stumbled, nearly falling flat on his face when another pair of arms came up on his other side and helped him along. Vox was too disoriented to tell who it was, focusing on trying not to vomit once more. He was led on uneasy legs, no better than a newborn deer’s, away from the table and through a crowded room. Most moved out of their way, either out of fear due to Grace’s shouts or out of disgust he wasn’t sure. There was the occasional bright flash directed his way, him flinching away and covering his face. Grace shouted at them but didn’t stop.

Finally, they stumbled into a much quieter room, Grace barking at whoever was still in there to get the Hell out. He squinted through his eyes, noticing a swirling tiled floor beneath him and a dirty toilet. At the sight of the toilet it was like his body knew it could finally let loose for he quickly fell forwards, his knees slamming into the hard floor, and retched.

“That fucking disgusting little twat! I’m going to kill him! I’m going to fucking kill him!”

“Why the fuck haven’t ya then? It’s been over a week! I thought ya would’ve made a move by now. I gave you the damn knife!”

“Easy for you to say! I may be an Overlord too but he’s still stronger than me. I can’t just walk up to him and stab him with a knife!”

“Sure ya can! It’s easy, all you do is walk up to him…AND STAB HIM WITH THE KNIFE!”

“Well, if you think it’s so easy then why don’t you do it!”

“Uhh, ‘cause he owns my soul, genius! Or did you forget? All you Vee’s contracts have a clause that states the soul ya got under contract can’t intentionally hurt their owner.”

“He doesn’t own your soul completely, just while you’re at work.”

“So! That don’t mean shit!”

“I KNOW! I know.” Grace sighed. “I know. Fuck.”

Vox continued to retch, shaking and heaving as he expelled all of his stomach’s contents.

“At least he’s getting all that shit out of his system.”

“It’s already plenty in his system. He took a full fuckin’ bottle of that poison, on top of all the otha shit I served him, and Val gave to him. He’s gonna have a long night.”

“Yeah,” Grace said.

Vox heaved again but nothing else came up. He opened his eyes, his vision blurred now due to tears that were falling from all the retching. He ached. He ached all over and it was so unbelievably uncomfortable. His shirt was clinging uncomfortably to him, making his skin itch. With shaking hands, he awkwardly tried pulling his jacket off of him. Thankfully, hands moved to help him and freed him from the constricting thing. He began pawing at his chest, trying to grab at his vest but remembered he wasn’t wearing his normal vest. That made things easier for him when he began to unbutton his shirt, desperate to get it off.

“Whoa, whoa, wait, Vox. Stop. You can’t strip down here.”

“Well he’s gonna try. I don’t know if you’ve eva taken that shit of yours, but it makes ya desperate to get naked. Not just ‘cause of the urges but ya get really hot. Overheated. An ice-cold bath would probably be a good idea.”

“Shit,” hissed Grace who he assumed was the one trying to keep him from unbuttoning his shirt completely. “Come on. Let’s cool you down some.”

Vox was hoisted to his legs again making him whine. He was dragged over to a sink that he leaned against, and cold water was then splashed onto the back of his neck and exposed chest. He hissed at the jarring cold but then sighed at the relief it offered.

“That’s it, Vox. That’s it,” soothed Grace. Hands were rubbing up and down his back, but he didn’t think they belonged to Grace who was still splashing water onto him. “Easy. Easy. I got you.”

Vox kept his eyes closed and his head tipped down as more water was patted into the back of his neck. His shirt was moved to the side slightly to expose his shoulder where a cold towel was placed.

With his stomach empty and the overwhelming heat being eased, the ache between his legs became his main focus. He was so very hard, and he needed that to be relieved too. He whined. “Where’s John? I-I wan’ John,” he said in-between heaving breaths.

“Who? I don’t know who that is,” said Grace.

Vox whimpered. That’s right, they had never met. He thinks Grace would have liked him.

“You know who John is?”

Vox could feel the person who was rubbing his back shrug. “If he’s any of Val’s employees I don’ know their real name. Not like any of us really share our real names with achother.”

Vox whined again. “I-I need him.” Vox grabbed at his crotch, squeezing to get some relief.

“Don’t!” His wrists were quickly pulled away. “Fuck! What do I do?!”

“I don’ know!”

“You’ve been through this before though! How do I get it to stop?”

“It’s YOUR fucking potion! You figure it out!”

“I never came up with a-an antidote or something! There has to be something I can do to help him!”

The man next to him sighed, taking pity on Grace. “The potions gonna have to run its course. There’s nothin’ you can do about it unless you find someone to help with his-”

“FUCK no!” cried Grace, making Vox flinch and whine. “Sorry,” she said far more softly. Then, “Jus-just no. Ok? I’m not letting anyone ‘help’ with his problem. He’s way too fucked up for that.”

“Yeah. That’s what the ‘love’ potion does. A real bitch, ain’t it?” the man said accusingly. Why did he sound like that? It’s not like Grace did this.

Grace sighed. Then after a pause, “Yeah.” She sounded defeated. “Yeah.”

Vox didn’t fully understand what they were saying but it sounded like they weren’t going to find John for him. “Please,” he whispered. “Wha’ ‘bou I-Izzy? Can you fin’ him?”

Grace sighed. “Vox, no. You’re all fucked up right now. You can’t…sleep with anyone like this.”

He whined again. Why was Grace being like this? She’d never had anything wrong with his sexuality before. He pushed himself away from the sink, batting at the hands still on him. “I’lll go fin’ ‘im mysssself.”

“Wait, Vox!”

With great force he pushed the door open, startling a couple that were sucking on each other’s faces outside the bathroom. He groaned in jealousy, but he stumbled past them.

“Vox! Stop!” cried Grace who grabbed onto his shoulders. He threw her hands off of him in frustration and looked at the thick crowd just past the hallway. He wouldn’t be able to find anyone here. He then spotted a camera in the corner of the hallway and knew that was his escape.

Grace must have noticed what he was about to do because she shouted at him, attempting to grab him once more but it was too late. He zapped into the camera.

It had been years since he had felt nauseous from traveling this way but almost as soon as his body dissolved into electricity, he felt sick. Against his will, he was spat out and he crumbled to the dirty floor.

He groaned at hitting the ground hard along with the renewed dizzy spell. He took deep shuttering breaths to try and get his nausea under control. He laid there for several moments, just trying to get his barring. When he finally felt well enough, he cracked his eyes open and furrowed his brows at the scattered trash he saw next to his head. He pushed himself up with great effort, flinching at the pounding headache he felt. He squinted at his surroundings and saw that he was no longer in the club. He was in some alleyway.

He tried to push himself to stand but his legs gave out. He whined and moved to sit on his ass, scooting himself backwards so he could lean his head and back against the brick wall. He closed his eyes as the world tipped once more.

Vox’s cock was still aching, and it was starting to hurt. He grabbed it, but it only made it hurt more. His whimper sounded more like a little cry, weak and pathetic. God, he just needed help. He could go back to the club. Harvey and Jack were there and he knew that Harvey would be more than willing to help. Bile burned at the back of his throat, and he felt shame for being so weak. How many times had he given in to him? How many times had he let Harvey do whatever he wanted to him? It made him sick and yet here he was, contemplating going back.

Vox let go of his crotch and pulled his knees close to him, wrapping his arms around his legs. He let his head fall to his knees, and he focused on breathing, hoping that it would dispel the uncomfortable way his skin fit over his bones. He didn’t know how long he sat there, trying to breathe but he was finally pulled from his fog when a familiar voice spoke.

“There you are, my dear.” The filtered voice sounded sweet, relieved, but Vox knew it wasn't sincere. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

With great effort, Vox lifted his heavy head and saw the last person he wanted to see.

Alastor’s ears were drawn backwards and his eyes looked sad. But still, he wore his ever-present smile. He then released one of his hands from his cane and extended it. “Come on, old pal. Let’s get you home.”
______________________________________
1940

Xavier walked down a dark alley, lighting a cigarette as he walked. He had walked this path several times now and knew it like the back of his hand. His skin was buzzing and he needed an outlet for all the nervous energy that came from another night with Harvey. The older man had said he wanted to call it an early night and sent Xavier on his way just after midnight.

He was equal parts annoyed and grateful. He wanted to lose himself to drugs and alcohol and a hot sweaty body but it seemed that maybe Harvey's old age was catching up with him. The bastard. But then again, the slowly forming bruises on his inner thighs and the ache in his behind might say differently.

In the dark alleyway he spotted a young man looking nervously down at a door at the opposite end. He had dark skin and big innocent eyes. He didn't look much older than twenty. The young man noticed his approach and quickly looked down, tipping his hat as Xavier walked past, muttering a quiet, "Sir". Xavier thought about ignoring the boy but something in his demeanor gave him pause.

Xavier stopped, looking at the young man who noticed him staring which made him even more nervous. The young man cleared his throat and then muttered an apology for no apparent reason and turned to walk away back down the way Xavier came.

"Wait," he said with a sigh. The young man paused, looking back at him like a deer in the headlights. "First time?"

The young man spluttered, gapping like a fish. "I-I don't know what you mean, sir."

Xavier sighed again. "You a friend of Dorothy?"

"D-dorothy?"

Xavier frowned slightly, now suddenly thinking he may have misinterpreted what was going on. Was he an officer?

The young mans eyes then suddenly widened in understanding and he nodded vigorously. "Y-yes. Dorothy! Yes, I-I'm a friend!"

Definitely not an officer. He looked far too anxious without any sort of false bravado. No, he acted a little too familiar.

Xavier nodded, giving him a once over before continuing his trek. "Well come on then."

The young man trotted to quickly catch up. Xavier pushed his way through the door the man had been eyeballing, walking into a small dark room with a single other occupant sitting at a desk. The man smiled when he noticed Xavier's arrival.

"Ahh good to see you again, Xavier." No first name. Better to conceal one's identity and yet it was a silly effort on his part. Far too many recognized his face and yet he still appreciated the effort. The man noticed his shadow and asked, "And I see you have brought a companion."

"Not really. I found him outside anxiously deciding if he should come in or not." The man raised his eyebrows. "Don't worry, he's a friend. I already confirmed."

The man nodded, giving the young man a warm smile in turn. "Well then welcome, friend. Any who is a friend of Dorothy is a friend to all here." He walked to a door that had been concealed by a wall of curtains behind him, opening it up and letting in the sound of music. "Do enjoy."

The young man gave Xavier a wide eyed look who indicated with his head to go first. The young man hesitantly walked through the doorway, Xavier following close behind.

The two walked into a dark room illuminated by lamps on the walls. Off to one side was a bar where several patrons sat. There were several couples, many of which were dancing with a same-sex partner, on the dance floor. There was a singer dressed in a fancy dress and makeup, singing in a deep baritone voice. The young man stared at the singer and asked, "Wait i-is that...?"

"A man? Yes," Xaiver said, taking a drag from his cigarette. He raised a single eyebrow at his newest companion. "Problem?"

The young man shook his head quickly. "No, no! Just surprised is all."

Xaiver smirked. "You'll find a lot of surprising things here. Come on, let me buy you a drink."

The two sat at a small table drinking their drinks as Xavier watched in amusement as the young man took in everything. "Everything you hoped it would be?" he asked.

The man swallowed the sip he had just taken and shook his head. "No. Yes? I don't really know, to be honest, sir."

"Enough with the sir nonsense. Here you can just call me Xavier."

The young man nodded, ducking his head in embarrassment. "Right. Right. X-xaiver. S-sorry it's just," he looked around as if making sure no one was listening. "You're...you know..."

He trailed off and Xavier sighed. Of course he recognized him but that wasn't exactly uncommon.

"Yeah, you don't have to tell me twice." Xavier took a big gulp of his drink. "Just don't get too worked up about it. You get too worked about everything and it'll put everyone else off you. They won't want to interact with you so take a breather, buy another drink, and relax."

The young man took a deep sigh and nodded. "Relax. Right." And took a big sip of his mostly untouched beverage. He promptly coughed and Xavier shook his head in exasperation.

He ordered them each another drink when the young man said, "James."

Xavier hummed absentmindedly as he scanned the crowd for anyone he thought would be a great lay.

"Th-that's me," said the young man in way of explanation. "I'm James."

Xavier turned back to him and his kind eyes. He had a sharp jawline, broad shoulders, and plump lips. He was just barely taller than him and was looking down at Xavier with a small smile, and a hopeful expression. He was a very handsome man and unlike any of the other men he had been with. He was young, too young, but innocent. Unlike the world weary men he usually went for. Xavier wondered if he looked like that when he was young and working at the Ruby Red. Was this what Izzy saw?

Xavier gave a hesitant smile. "Nice to meet you James." He took their new drinks, handing one to the other man. "How old are you, James?"

His smile wavered slightly. "I-I'm twenty-one."

More-or-less the same age difference between him and Izzy when they knew each other. He swallowed thickly and nodded. "Do you know how to dance, James?"

He hesitated before nodding. "A little. I'm not bad at the Lindy Hop or Jive."

Xavier hummed, taking a big sip and placing their drinks on the bar top before grabbing James's hand. "We shall see."

As far as evenings at that establishment it was one of the better ones. James proved to be a good dancer and an entertaining companion. They both had long since sheadded their jackets and hats, rolling up their sleeves as the smell of sweat filled the air. Xavier laughed as James dipped him low, supporting his weight flawlessly. Of course the pleasant buzz of alcohol coursing through his veins helped.

"You're quite good at this," laughed Xavier, running a firm hand along the others arm and neck. "I thought you said you only knew how to dance a little?"

James smiled and shrugged his shoulders. "I lied." He twirled Xavier, bringing Xavier's back to lean against James's solid chest, pushing them into each other and placing a firm hand on Xavier's lower stomach. He only stumbled slightly, James catching him expertly. "My mother used to be a ballroom dancer. She trained all of my sisters how to dance and I was often the one chosen to be their dance partner."

"She didn't train you?" asked Xavier.

James laughed. "I mean outside of having me dance with my sisters, no. That was already too much for my dad."

Xavier hummed as he was led into a complex step that he followed on unsteady feet. Usually he wouldn't be so clumsy but he might have had one too many. He was spun around, bringing their chests against each other. Xavier could feel a firmness against his thigh that he recognized. "Sounds like a right bastard."

James snorted. "You have nooooo idea."

Xavier hummed again. "I think you'd be surprised by how much I'd know about a bastard father. And mother for that matter." James looked to him surprise but made no comment. They continued to dance for several more seconds before they went to take a break at a small table. They sat, taking a breather as they drank the rest of their drinks.

Xavier stared at James who wore a soft smile as he watched the rest of the remaining patrons dance and converse. He looked far more at home now, relaxing into the environment. Good. Xavier wished that he had had a place like this back when he was young too.

"Hey," he said softly as he placed a hand on James's upper thigh, stroking. James looked at him. "What do you say to getting out of here? Come back to my place."

James's eyes widened. "R-really?"

Xavier smirked, squeezing James's thigh. "Unless if you'd rather just go home-"

"No!" cried James who then cleared his throat. Xavier snickered quietly. "No, I-I'd be happy to."

Xavier smiled. "Good. Come on." He pulled James to his feet, interlacing their fingers. James looked down at their hands. The room was dark, as was James's skin, but Xavier just knew there was a blush there.

Once outside their hands fell to their sides but they walked closely beside each other, their knuckles brushing. Xavier led James to his vehicle, fumbling with his keys he fished out of his pocket. James watched him and said, "Do you need me to drive?"

Xavier waved him off. "I'm fine." He finally unlocked his car and unlocked the other door. "Get in."

The drive to his home couldn't be over quick enough as the two pawed at each other's thighs. Xavier tried to be a gentleman but James was out of his side of the car before Xavier could stumble over to his side. He then fumbled again with the lock to the front door but once inside, Xavier had James pushed up against the door and their lips finally locked.

James groaned into the kiss, sending a shock down Xavier's spine. He deepened the kiss. Clothes were pulled off haphzardly, the two giggling as they bumped into tables and furniture. Xavier shushed James when there was a loud clang from tipping into a table with vases, knocking them over. James thankfully was able to catch anything before it rolled to the floor. "Shhhhh, my wife is home."

James then turned wide eyes towards him. "What?!" he hissed out in a loud whisper.

Xavier smiled. "It's fine. She's upstairs but I don't want to wake her."

"W-w-wait, wife!? Oh God." He ran a hand through his hair, making it stand on end endearingly. "That's right. You're married to Grace Vox. Oh my GOD!"

"Shhhhh!" Xavier placed a finger to James's lips, silencing the man. "She's asleep." Xavier then moved his finger, leaning close and brushing his lips against James's. "We're just going to have to be quiet."

James pulled back, shaking his head frantically. "I-I don't think I'm comfortable with this. What if she finds out? What if she catches us?!"

"Relaxxxx," drawled Xavier, pulling James close, annoyed with the mans hesitation. Only moments ago he seemed more than willing. "She won't mind."

"What are you talking about?" hissed James. "She's your wife! And I'm a man! If she finds us-!"

"She won't care," grunted Xavier as he pulled his pants the rest of the way off, leaving him in nothing but his underwear. "Now come here-"

"No!" he cried, holding Xavier at arms length. He wore a deep frown, looking down at Xavier's mostly naked body. "And - and what the Hell?" If possible, his frown deepened. Xavier looked down and that's when he noticed the dark bruises on his thighs that if you looked hard enough, looked hand print shaped.

Xavier could feel his cheeks flush but before he could offer up an excuse or cover himself the lights turned on. Both men turned to see Grace standing there in the living room archway, wearing a robe, and staring wide-eyed at both of them. She took one look at the disarray of the room, the half-dressed state they were both in, and the bruises, and she lost it.

"Get out! Get out! Get the fuck out of my house!" shouted Grace who slapped James repeatedly. The muscular man covered his face and head with his arms, offering no other defense.

"Grace! Calm down!" cried Xavier, attempting to stop the assault.

"No! I'm not going to let him fucking do whatever the Hell he wants to you! Get the fuck out you bastard!" shrieked Grace.

"He didn't do anything to me!" shouted Xavier, grabbing her and pulling her back and away from the startled man. "Not yet at least!"

"What?!"

Perhaps that was the wrong thing to say. "You know what I mean! I invited him back here! I met him at a bar!"

Grace threw his arms off her before she rounded on him, her eyes furious. "It is four o'clock in the fucking morning, Xavier! And you are covered in bruises!"

"I'm not COVERED in bruises," he said defensively. Again, the wrong thing to say. "Come on, Grace! You're overreacting!"

Grace then took a deep breath, closing her eyes to ground herself. Once she opened her eyes she turned back to James who flinched back slightly. Grace pointed towards their front door. "I think it's time for you to leave."

James nodded frantically, quickly collecting his discarded jacket and shirt before fleeing. Grace then turned back towards Xavier who frowned. "Really?" he said. "Was that really necessary?"

"Necessary? NECESSAR-!" Her volume began to rise again before she quickly cut herself off, taking another deep breath. She then stared at him for several seconds before stomping off up the stairs.

Xavier looked between the front door and the stairs, the decision being easy. He followed Grace to her bedroom, not before grabbing his pants and shirt, quickly covering himself and any bruises he knew he sported.

Grace was muttering to herself as she stomped around the room, fluttering about without any real rhyme or reason. She lifted up dirty clothes, moving them from one spot to another and shifted the clutter around. Xavier watched her for several seconds, her quick movements making him dizzy. The alcohol he had drank not helping.

"I know we woke you up and I'm sorry for that," said Xavier slowly, falling back onto Grace's bed to steady himself. "But that was rather rude."

"Rude?!" cried Grace, whirling around to face him. "You think I was RUDE, Xavier?" He opened his mouth but decided perhaps no answer was the safest course of action. "Waking me up in the middle of the night with some drunken conquest is rude! And this isn't even the first time either! I can't tell you how many times you've done this now and it's becoming ridiculous!"

Xavier frowned, scrunching up his nose in hurt that he concealed with anger. "You never cared about who I slept with before."

"I care if it puts you in danger, Xavier!" she shouted. "You have bruises! Several of them! And this isn't the first time I've seen them!"

Xavier looked away, unable to meet her eyes. He shook his head. "James didn't do anything to me, I already told you."

"But somebody did!" She cried. "And that's the problem!"

Xavier huffed. "None of the men I've brought back here have ever hurt me." None that he didn't ask to.

"Well somebody is!" Grace threw her hands up in exasperation. "This has been going on for years and quite frankly, I'm worried."

There it was again. Grace's worry. It had gotten so hard to look at her sometimes, ever since Olivia's funeral. Ever since then he could feel them growing distant and he knew it was his doing. He couldn't bare to look at her and see any sort of disappointment but the more he drew away the more he DID see the disappointment. And with the disappointment came the concern.

"I've told you," he said quietly. "You have nothing to worry about."

Silence befell them, Xavier sitting and refusing to look up while Grace stood there and stared at him. Eventually Grace sighed and walked out of the room. Xavier furrowed his brows in confusion, moving to follow but was quickly stopped in his tracks when Grace stormed back in, throwing a small piece of paper at him. He fumbled to catch it but it fell to the ground. He bent over and then realized it was a photo. His eyes widened.

With shaking fingers he grabbed the photo of his mother, miserable on the streets. It was worn at the edges from Xavier keeping it in his pocket for the past couple of years.

"I know about your mother," Grace said. "I've known for a while now. I asked Harvey about it and he told me everything."

Xavier swallowed thickly. "E-everything?"

"Yes," she said. "He told me about the two of you taking her house and everything she owned. Forced her onto the streets." She let out a tired sigh and the bed dipped as she sat next to him. "I also know that she died a couple months back. You had her buried in some unmarked grave in Jackson."

His mother wasn't able to survive in a small rural town with nothing to her name. She was an unkind woman who had never manage to foster any sort of lasting friendships back home. Of course she had to leave to try and find any sort of a living in the closest city to her. She died just like she had lived, without anyone there to care for her.

"Hey," said Grace, placing a gentle hand on his forearm. "I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times," she leaned close. "I love you and there's nothing you can do to change that."

Xavier shook his head, stinging prickling his eyes. "She might not be dead right now if I hadn't forced her out," he said in a whisper. "She's dead and I-I'm not sad about that." He looked up, turning teary eyes towards Grace. "I don't understand how you can't hate me."

"You're mother was a terrible person. That was obvious enough after what she did to Olivia," she said, moisture gathering in her own eyes. "And I don't blame you for wanting to seek some sort of revenge or whatever against her. I loved Olivia too. What I can't stand is all these...secrets." She looked away, shaking her head. "I can't stand it, Xavier. I'm tired of not being told the truth and I know this isn't the only thing you've been keeping from me."

She'd seen the bruises, she'd seen them on other occasions too. Whenever he spent time with Harvey she always looked at him funny, with this overly critical eye. It was like she could tell just by looking at him that they had fucked. And maybe she could, even when he tried to cover up as much as possible around her for fear of her spotting any marks he had.

"Xavier," she said softly, wrapping both of her arms around his. "Talk to me." She sounded so desperate. "Please." Her voice shook. "It's Harvey, isn't it?"

Xavier didn't know what finally did it. If it was the heated argument or the most honesty that the two of them have had in ages. Or if it was the alcohol or throbbing pain in his body that Xavier had convinced himself all night he didn't feel. Or maybe it was the heartache he heard in Grace's voice. But Xavier felt his lip quiver and the tears he had tried to keep at bay began to fall, dripping onto the photo he still held, marring his mother's face.

"Yes," he gasped out and he buried his face into the crook of her neck, the photo falling to the ground.

Grace held onto him then as he wept just like she had as they stood over Olivia's grave. Just as she had when he told her about Olivia's death. Just as she had when they sat in a hospital room by Olivia's bed. And just as Xavier had when Grace clung to him in turn when she found out her brother had died.

"Olivia and I always wondered," Grace said softly as she held him. "She left me a message while I was in Washington, said you had called her early one morning about Harvey but didn't know why. I never manage to call her back before..." She trailed off and he tensed up, knowing what she meant. "And there was so much else going on after that that it just never seemed the right moment to ask you. I'm sorry."

He shook his head on her shoulder. "I wouldn't have told you even if you had." That was the most honesty he had given her in years and it felt good.

"What - what has he done exactly?" Grace asked carefully.

He didn't think she was asking for details and he didn't think he'd be able to tell her even if she was. So he said, "He's the reason why I got a job in Hollywood." He sniffled, turning his head so his head was more resting on her shoulder, no longer buried there. She carded her fingers through his hair. "Said he'd be able to get me the money I needed for Olivia's treatment."

There was silence. Then, "And I'm assuming he wanted something in exchange for...helping?" He could feel her swallow where his forehead was resting against her neck.

"He found me attractive," he said quietly. "He just wanted me."

Grace tensed and the fingers in his hair paused before she continued the soothing strokes. More silence. She said slowly, "And now?" It was his turn to stiffen. She moved to hold the back of his head as if she was worried he would pull away. "I don't mean that accusatorily. I'm just curious because Olivia's gone and I just want to know if he's forcing you or-"

"Not forcing," he said shaking his head. "He's never forced me. I've always agreed to - to do whatever with him." He could feel his cheeks flush in shame. He shoved his face further into Grace's shoulder. "Just now he's - he's there? He's familiar? I-I don't know." He took a couple quick breaths. "He helps me with things ok." Like with his mother. "He's useful. I-I-"

"Shhhhh," hushed Grace, rubbing her other hand up and down his back to calm him. "It's ok. Everything's going to be ok now. I promise."

He scoffed, pulling back finally to find her cheeks were damp the same as his. "How? How is anything different?"

Grace's brows furrowed. "I know now, Xavier. You don't have to do anything with him now and when people find out-"

"Find out?" he asked with a slight hysterical edge. "No you CAN'T tell anyone." He grabbed both of her upper arms forcefully. "Grace, you can't, do you understand? No one can know."

She shook her head in disbelief. "Xavier, the things he's made you do-"

"He hasn't made me do ANYTHING. Aren't you listening? He has never forced me!" He said, give a slight shake to Grace. "I've consented to everything and if anyone found out I'd be ruined! And not just me but you too! You're my wife and I'd drag you down with me whether I want to or not."

Grace looked him as if he was the crazy one. "I don't care about that. Xavier, he needs to be held accountable!"

"No!" he said with finality. "Grace, you can't tell anyone!" She opened her mouth to argue but he talked over her. "Promise me! Grace, you have to promise me! Please!"

She thought she understood now who and what Harvey was but she didn't have the faintest clue. He was one of the most powerful, if not the most powerful man, in all of Hollywood. Nothing good would come of trying to confront him about what he had done. And what had he done at the end of the day? Offered Xavier fame and fortune? A means to save his sister? Help in taking care of his backstabbing mother? The only truly illegal thing he had done was had sex with a man. And Xavier was sure that Harvey would twist that in some way that only Xavier would take the fall for it.

Grace stared at him, eyes flying across Xavier's desperate face before she finally nodded. "Ok. Ok, I promise."

Xavier let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding and pulled Grace into a bruising hug. "Oh thank God. Thank you. Thank you."

He felt Grace's arms slowly snake around him once more, the two holding each other for several moments. Xavier felt relief for the first time in years. Grace knew the truth and true to her word she still loved him and hadn't rejected him. Meanwhile, Grace held him with a newfound resolve, silently promising to Olivia that she'd help him.
_____________________________________________
Charlie was wringing her hands in front of her as her family’s limo carried her and the rest of the hotel staff to the Entertainment district. Her parents weren’t there, thankfully, but the entire rest of the crew, including Cherri, were present. Angel was already at the Vee’s club, working.

“Babe, relax,” said Vaggie from beside her. “You said this was a party with other Overlords and high-ranking Demons. I seriously doubt the Vee’s are going to try anything unless they want to create some big scandal for themselves.”

“That’s a surprisingly generous assessment of the Vee’s coming from you,” drawled Husk who sat across from them with his arms crossed. “Didn’t you insist on coming with because you were worried they’d ‘try something’ despite hating these sorts of things?”

Vaggie glared back at him. “You can never be too careful when you’re in Hell. Especially when it comes to Overlords but still, they’d have to be real idiots if they cause any sort of trouble when we arrive.”

Husk huffed. “Yeah, we’ll see,” he said as he looked out of the corner of his eye at Alastor who sat ramrod straight next to Husk.

Charlie sighed. “I’m not nervous about some fight breaking out.” Husk raised a disbelieving eyebrow that she ignored. “I’m just worried about, I don’t know, fostering good relationships?”

Cherri barked out a laugh as she riffled through the limos bar. “Well then you shouldn’t have brought this lot if you want to broker good relations with the Overlords. Especially that one,” she said, shooting a thumb over her shoulder towards Alastor.

One of his eyes twitched and he gave her an unimpressed look. “I don’t know what you could possibly mean. I am a perfect gentleman.”

“Ha! And I’m a perfect lady,” said Cherri. “It’s cool man. I ain’t judging. I enjoy a good chaotic fight with some explosions.”

“Fight!” shouted Nifty, with a maniacal laugh.

“No! Absolutely not!” said Vaggie, grabbing Nifty and trying to contain her feral desire for a fight. The tiny maid just wiggled out of Vaggie’s arms and scurried across the floor towards Alastor’s legs. “There will be absolutely NO fights! With or without explosions! Everyone will be on their best behavior, or we’ll all be packing up and going home.”

“I don’t live with ya,” said Cherri. “If I want to start a fight, I’ll fuckin’ start a fight.”

Vaggie narrowed her eyes and pointed her finger at Cherri. “No.”

Cherri snorted but rolled her single eye. Whether or not the message had sunk in was up for debate. Charlie groaned in worry.

“Babe, maybe if you’re this worried about things we should just head back to the hotel,” said Vaggie who rubbed Charlie’s shoulder. “It is already kind of late. We left way later then we were wanting to.”

Charlie couldn’t settle on an appropriate outfit. Should she wear her normal attire? Or something more formal? It was a nightclub so maybe something more fitting for a club. Cherri tried getting her to wear a WAY more revealing outfit than she was comfortable with but eventually she had settled on a dress that wasn’t far off from the one she had worn during the last extermination. By the time they left though it was just past midnight.

“No, no. I told Vox I would come. I don’t want to disappoint him.”

Vaggie gave him a skeptical look. Charlie knew that she still didn’t trust Vox, or any of the Vee’s for that matter, and knew she was thinking that Vox only invited her as a curtsy and not out of any real genuine desire to have her there. But Charlie just didn’t believe that. On their phone call he sounded so….sad. Tired. The only time he sounded like he had any real life to his voice was when he invited Charlie to the party. She couldn’t let him down.

Even if she didn’t really get to chat with Vox at the party, him being one of the hosts and all, she wanted to show him that she would be there for him no matter what. Maybe if she kept showing up for him, consistently being there, he’d finally open up about whatever it was that was going on with him. But then again, she’d tried doing that with others too and yet they never opened up with her. She looked at the seat across from her where Alastor sat as he stared out the window.

When he returned home after leaving the hotel with Rosie, he was as tight lipped as ever. She had questioned him again about the fight between him and Vox but all he would say about it was that it wouldn’t happen again before briskly walking away. She couldn’t help but notice the lack of limping or stiffness as he walked away from her, making her even more curious about his sudden lack of pain. It didn’t make sense!

Had he maybe been faking his injury the whole time? No, that couldn’t be it. She had seen with her own eyes the evidence of his injury and she knew just how serious it was. While a good actor Alastor may be, she didn’t think even he could have faked that.

But then what happened? Had he found some other means of healing himself without the antidote from Heaven? Maybe he was sustaining himself by taking more Demon souls for himself. While Charlie didn’t like that thought, he was still an Overlord, and she couldn’t very well force him to stop, could she? She WAS the Princess of Hell and his employer though. Maybe she could make it a stipulation that if you were working at the hotel or staying there you couldn’t take anyone’s soul. Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.

Far sooner than Charlie anticipated, they arrived at their destination. Vaggie grabbed her hand and gave her a reassuring smile which Charlie returned.

They all piled out of the limousine, earning a couple looks from those who recognized Charlie and Alastor in turn. Alastor shot them a menacing grin, scaring off any who looked too long.

Charlie showed the doorman their invitation and they were ushered inside to loud music and flashing lights. There was Catholic motifs scattered throughout all with a distinct Hellish twist; upside down crosses, staff being dressed in nun outfits that Charlie doubted any real nun would wear, and confessionals being used for discreet sexual encounters. As far as clubs in Hell went, however, it was one of the tamer ones.

“Alright! Let’s get fucked up!” shouted Cherri who disappeared into the crowd.

Nifty giggled and attempted to run after her but was stopped by Husk who grabbed the small Demon and held her under his arm like an unruly pet. She flailed her arms and legs but was unable to break free. “Uh uh. You’re sticking with me. Don’t need you running off and getting into trouble like last time.” Nifty visibly deflated.

“Let’s uh, maybe go get a drink,” said Vaggie who eyeballed all the twisted Christian imagery with a disapproving look. Perhaps bringing her here was a bad idea and slightly insensitive, Charlie thought.

Charlie moved to follow Vaggie and Husk but stopped when she noticed Alastor was not following. He was looking around the establishment with a critical look, searching. “Al?” His head whipped towards her. “You coming?”

“Of course, my dear. Lead the way!” he said cheerily that Charlie just knew was meant to be disarming but she had spent enough time around him now to see through the act. He was on edge. Charlie DEFINITELY knew bringing him along was a bad idea, but he had insisted, surprising Husk. Husk had said that Alastor never accepted the Vee’s invitation to anything and narrowed his eyes at Alastor suspiciously. Alastor had just laughed, patted his head condescendingly, and said “There’s a first time for everything!”

Charlie and Alastor joined the other three at the bar where they waited impatiently for the bartender to take their orders. “Talk about shitty service,” huffed Husk. “There’s how many cocktail servers here and none of them can help?”

“Speaking of cocktail servers,” said Vaggie who pointed to one corner of the club. There was Angel, dressed in the same nun outfit as the other employees, talking animatedly with the Overlord Velvette. Charlie frowned when she realized the two were doing anything but having an amicable conversation. “Great,” said Vaggie with a sigh. “We just got here and there’s already trouble.”

“I should probably go check out what’s wrong,” said Charlie nervously, watching as Angel looked worried and Velvette shot angry eyes across the crowded club. “Oh, but it’ll be so hard to get over there with all these people.”

“Never fear!” said Alastor as he grabbed onto her arm. “Allow me.”

Vaggie gave out a cry of protest just before the two dissolved into shadows and reappeared on the other side of the club. Charlie bent over, holding one hand over her mouth and the other grasped at her abdomen as she willed herself not to throw up. “Apologies, my dear. I’ve been told that particular brand of transportation doesn’t exactly agree with others.”

“You don’t say,” she gasped out.

“Where the FUCK is he??” came the raised voice of Velvette from somewhere behind her.

“How the fuck should I know? He just zapped himself away and could be anywhere in here!” That was Angel’s voice, while not as raised still laced with an edge of panic.

“Or anywhere in all of Hell!” cried Velvette. “FUCK!”

“I mean, with the amount of drugs and shit in his system I seriously doubt he coulda got far but I don’t know, you know how his powers work better than me.”

Charlie pushed herself up to stand and turned towards the direction Alastor was staring menacingly towards. There stood Velvette and Angel arguing. Velvette climbed onto a table to give herself a better view with her short stature, ignoring the protests of the occupants there who soon got up and walked away in annoyance. Once on the table she spotted Charlie and Alastor almost immediately. Her eyes narrowed.

“Oh, fuck off, Radio twat. Now’s not the time!”

“Seems to me like you’re in need of some assistance locating something, or someone,” he said, his smile twisting into a threatening grin.

“I said, FUCK. OFF!”

Angel looked warily at Velvette before turning a worried look towards Alastor and then Charlie. “Vox’s ran off.”

“Oy!” cried Velvette, shooting a glare towards Angel.

“What?” he cried. “They can help!”

“Like Hell they can!” Velvette pointed a finger towards Alastor. “He’s the last person I want anywhere near Vox?”

“Really? The last?” asked Angel quietly. Velvette faltered, looking at him out of the corner of her eyes before returning to scowling at Alastor.

“Is Vox, ok?” asked Charlie, stepping close. “Is he hurt?”

The panic and concern that was clearly written on both Velvette and Angel’s face scared her. Something must have happened prior to their arrival. Velvette hesitated before looking over Charlie’s head, continuing to scan the crowd. “Not yet he ain’t.”

Charlie’s brows furrowed in concern at her statement. Velvette wasn’t going to try and hurt Vox herself, would she?

“He’s high and drunk as shit,” said Angel in way of explanation. “He’s uh, not fit to take care of himself right now.”

“Angel!” shouted Velvette in reprimand. “You can’t just go around telling people an Overlord is indisposed. It’s fucking dangerous!” She shot a suspicious look towards Alastor, whose eyes narrowed.

“Even if I wanted to hurt him, I would not do so if he was currently impaired as he is. It’s not very sporting, now is it?” Alastor said with a haughty tone. Charlie internally groaned. While she actually believed him presently, phrasing his intentions in such a way didn’t do much in the way of alleviating any suspicions Velvette may have.

“Oh, fuck you! Like I’d believe a word out of your disease-ridden mouth,” said Velvette.

Alastor frowned with everything but his mouth, his grinning smile turning more into a snarl. Charlie stepped in front of him, preventing any sort of fight that was about to happen. “He’s telling the truth,” said Charlie. “He’s promised me he won’t start any more fights with Vox.”

Velvette scoffed. “And you believed him?”

Charlie turned around and stared up into Alastor’s eyes. He looked back at her, not saying a word, waiting for her assessment. After several seconds, Charlie finally nodded. “I do.”

“Then you really are the idiot I thought you were, Princess, because I wouldn’t trust him to piss on me even if I was on fire.”

Alastor scrunched up his nose in disgust. “How crass.”

“Al, stop,” Charlie finally said with finality. If Vox was in need of help, this was anything but conducive to helping find him. She looked toward Velvette once more. “Look, I know you might not trust Alastor, and you may think I’m a naïve idiot, but I think you know you can trust me.” Velvette crossed her arms but didn’t comment. “We can help you find Vox.”

Velvette stared at her for several seconds before huffing and looking away. “Fine. The more the merrier I guess.”

Charlie smiled at the small victory. That’s when Vaggie and Husk with Nifty still clutched under his arm finally arrived after shoving their way through the crowd. “What the Hell is going on?” asked Vaggie, glaring at the annoyed Overlord still standing on a table.

“Vox is missing,” said Angel before Velvette could start another argument. “Ran off into the power grid. And he’s pretty fucked up right now so uh, yeah, it’s honestly kinda a concern.”

Husk looked at Angel questioningly, clearly confused by Angel’s concern for an Overlord that he had previously made his distaste of known. But Angel refused to look at him.

Vaggie frowned. “This is Hell. Who isn’t drunk or high off their ass? Is this honestly that much of a concern?”

Angel and Velvette shot side-eyed cautious looks towards each other, making Charlie worry more. Velvette finally sighed, running a hand through her hair. She sat down on the table, her legs dangling off the side. “He’s been drugged” she said slowly. “By our love potion. Someone…slipped it into his drink.”

Angel frowned but didn’t say more. Next to Charlie, Alastor stared with narrowed eyes at the other Overlord.

“You mean your roofies styled ‘love potion’?” Vaggie said, putting air quotes around the phrase ‘love potion’.

Velvette clenched her hands tightly before releasing them and sighing. “Yeah. That one.”

Vaggie blinked in surprise at the easy admission to the description of the potion that Velvette had made herself. Vaggie recovered quickly though and crossed her arms. “Sounds like a bit of karma to me.”

“Vaggie!” shouted Charlie, surprised by such a statement. Vaggie shrunk back, chastised and shot Charlie an apologetic look.

Velvette sneered at Vaggie. “I thought you said I could trust you, Princess.”

“You can! You can!” said Charlie, throwing up placating hands. “I swear to you, you can. We will help you look for him and make sure he’s safe. All of us will.”

Velvette shot them all suspicious looks but didn’t comment further, neither refusing nor accepting their help.

Husk sighed. “Look, I’m all for helping search for the guy but where exactly are we supposed to look? If he zapped away, he could be anywhere.”

Angel shrugged. “Not with the amount of shit coursing through his veins. I’d be surprised if he was more than a couple blocks away.”

“Then we’ll have to start searching the area,” said Charlie. “Make sure he didn’t run off somewhere else. With all of us, we can cover more ground quicker.”

Velvette grimaced but nodded. “Yeah. Fine. Angel, you stay here and let us know if he shows back up. Not like you can exactly leave while Valentino has you working.” Her face twisted into a look of disgust at the mention of the other member of the Vee’s. Where was he anyways? Was he out looking for Vox somewhere else already?

“Lovely,” Alastor finally said. “Now that that’s settled.” He gave a wicked smile towards Velvette before all of them, save Angel, dissolved into shadows and appeared outside. Charlie bent over once more, this time fighting back a retch.

“Motherfucker! I hate when you do that!” yelled Husk who had dropped Nifty after the transport. Nifty giggled as she twirled around on unsteady feet, falling to the ground a moment later.

Velvette had fallen flat on her ass, having still been sitting on the table before Alastor transported them. “You fucking tosser! Don’t EVER do that to me again!”

Alastor gave her his most innocent look. “I was merely trying to help. It is rather suffocating and crowded in there. It would have taken us ages just to get to the door. By then who knows what could have happened to our dear Vox.”

Velvette got to her feet, brushing herself off and mumbled. “Like Hell you actually give a shite.” She then crossed her arms and scowled at them all. “But fine. You all want to help? Then you better help. And if any of you lay a damned finger on him then it’s your head I’ll be having. Got it?”

Charlie nodded enthusiastically. “Of course! You don’t have to worry about us! We’ll find him before you know it!” She smiled. “How about we all split up? Husk, you go with Nifty.” Husk grunted. “Vaggie, you can come with me.” Her girlfriend gave her a firm nod. “And Velvette and Alastor-”

In unison, they said, “No.”

Charlie flattered but recovered quickly. “Allllrighty! Vaggie, how about you go with Velvette, and I go with Alastor?”

Velvette and Vaggie glared at each other out of the corners of their eyes but then Vaggie sighed. “I guess it’s better than me being paired up with Alastor.”

“Agreed,” drawled Velvette.

“Then it’s settled! Everyone in each group has the means of communicating with the others via phone so it’ll ensure we all know when Vox is found at the same time.” She gave them all a smile before Husk and Velvette turned around without comment to start their searches. Vaggie gave Charlie an encouraging look before trailing after the Overlord.

Charlie turned to Alastor, thinking maybe having her team up with him was the best idea to make sure he didn’t try anything. It’s not that she was lying earlier when she told Velvette that she trusted Alastor wouldn’t try to fight with Vox again it’s just…she didn’t know if she trusted him period.

Alastor wasn’t paying attention to her, his eyes already searching around the crowded street, several other Demons out and about for a night on the town. But there was no Vox. “Well, I guess we should start looking, huh?” said Charlie. Alastor didn’t respond, instead taking off towards an alleyway. Charlie was forced to scurry after him to keep up.

They searched for several minutes but no Vox. They went inside of other clubs and bars along the block, and still no Vox. As minutes dragged on Charlie started to get nervous. Angel had said he was drugged with that Love Potion that the Vee’s promoted. Charlie didn’t know much about it but from what she did know Vox would likely not be very aware of his surroundings, if at all. Depending on how much he took and how long ago, he might even be passed out somewhere with who knows who around. They needed to find him and find him fast!

Then Alastor abruptly stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, causing Charlie to run into the back of him. “Al?” she asked in question. Alastor’s right ear twitched and he turned his head in that direction, staring towards an alleyway across the street. Charlie followed his gaze but didn’t see anything. Alastor then dissolved into shadows leaving Charlie behind.

Her eyes widened in shock. Where had he gone?

She ran across the street, coming to a halt at the entrance to the alleyway. There, towards the end of the alley, was Vox sitting with his arms wrapped around his legs, back against the wall, and head down. He looked like a scared child, trying to make himself small. Alastor stood before him, looking down at Vox with a sad expression.

“There you are, my dear. We’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Alastor’s voice was soft, unlike anything she had ever heard from him before. He also sounded genuinely relieved to have found Vox, surprising Charlie. Vox lifted his head, his face twisted into one of confusion, eyes narrowed as if he was struggling to see. Alastor extended his hand. “Come on, old pal. Let’s get you home.”

Vox stared at the hand for several seconds before raising a shaking hand towards Alastor’s. Just before taking it, Vox then smacked it away, surprising both Charlie and Al. “I didn’ wan’ yyyyou,” he slurred, heavy head swaying slightly back and forth. “Anyone bu’ you.”

Vox glowered up at Alastor but there wasn’t much threat behind it, the Overlord too intoxicated to be menacing in the slightest.

Alastor’s ears twitched but he did not remove his extended hand. “I am trying to help you.”

“You can’t help meee.” Vox’s screen glitched. “You made that v-x-very clear years ‘go.” Alastor’s hand lowered slightly, his smile falling a fraction in turn. Vox wasn’t done though. “Stupi’ ugly disgusting Vvvvox, am I righ’? Not even worth your time.”

Alastor finally pulled his hand back, wrapping it around his cane and hitting the end on the ground with a snap. Alastor straightened slightly and then huffed as if to appear unaffected. “None of that now. I’m trying to help you return to your Overlord friend’s care.”

“Overlord?” Vox said, eyes screwing up in confusion. “No. No. I-I wan’,” he trailed off, like he lost his train of thought. Then, “I wan’ Jjjohn. I jus’ wan’ him. No-not you.”

Alastor’s ears twitched back, and his eyes drew together in confusion. His ears then perked back up and he shook his head. “There’s no John here, old pal.”

Vox let out a wounded sound, eyes falling closed as he leaned his head back against the wall with a thunk. Charlie winched at the sound, hoping it didn’t cause any damage to his television head. “Th-then Izzy or – or, mmmm, Jack maybe. I don’ wan’ Harvey.” He shook his head, the casing on the back of his head scraping against the bricks.

Alastor’s ears fell all the way backwards then, flat against his head. He was staring at Vox in horrified shock which only worried Charlie. Alastor slowly knelt down, staring at the other Overlord in concern. “Vox,” he said slowly. “Harvey’s dead. So is Jack. You remember that, right?”

Vox kept his eyes closed but his brows furrowed, making him look like he was in pain. “D-dead?”

“Yes, my dear, dead.” Alastor’s voice was patient, gentle. “Do you know where you’re at right now?”

Vox opened his eyes, looking back at Alastor before frowning and looking at their surroundings. “Aaaan alley.”

Alastor nodded. “Outside of that. Where are we?”

Vox frowned, his face screwing up in concentration. After several seconds he said hesitantly, “L.A.?”

Alastor shook his head, eyes concerned. “No, my dear. We are not.”

Vox’s frown deepened. He began to shake his head but then stopped, bringing a hand up to it as he swayed. “No, no, I s – saw ‘em. I sawwww-”

Vox trailed off, wrapping his arms around his chest and let out a high pitched whine. Charlie’s heart broke for him. He curled in on himself, looking so broken. Charlie couldn’t stand it anymore; she rushed down the alley and kneeled down next to Vox.

“Hey, hey, Vox. It’s ok. We’ve got you.” She placed one hand on one of his arms, placing the other onto this back where she began rubbing soothing circles.

Vox lifted his head slightly, looking up at her with teary eyes. A line formed between his brows. “’L-livia?” His frown deepened. “No,” he mumbled. He then reached out a shaking hand towards her blonde locks that she left out of her normal braid for the night. He ran a strand of hair through his forefinger and thumb. “Grace?” Alastor stiffened beside her.

Charlie gave him a soft smile and shook her head. “No, it’s Charlie. Remember?”

“Char-,” he squinted, understanding gone from his eyes. He leaned back further, trying to assess her. A bright flash of red caught her attention and Charlie looked down at Vox’s half-opened shirt. There wrapped around his neck was the same red mark she saw all those weeks ago when Vox had first come to the hotel to help Alastor. It was bright against his dark skin, a stark contrast. It was the same shade that so many Sinners wore, pointing to a clue to how the Sinner had died. Charlie now knew exactly what the mark meant and how Vox had died.

There was a flash of familiarity in Vox’s eyes then as he said, “Princess?”

Charlie nodded. “Yep. It’s me.”

“I don’ – I don’ undersssstand,” he slurred.

Charlie patted his back. “That’s ok. We’re going to get you out of here and get you home, ok?”

Vox just nodded before his head plopped back down on his knees. His breathing was slightly erratic, taking deep breaths. Charlie pulled out her phone and shot off quick texts to Vaggie, Husk, and Angel to let them know they had found Vox and where they were. Vaggie responded soon afterwards, stating Velvette was calling their own limousine and would be there shortly.

Charlie kept rubbing his back and moved to sit down next to him, giving her better access. Alastor continued to crouch down, shooting worried eyes towards Vox.

After several moments, Vox mumbled. “What was that?” Charlie asked.

He lifted his head slightly, just enough to let them hear him better. “Al?” he asked quietly.

“I’m right here, old pal,” Alastor said, leaning forwards a fraction.

Vox lifted his head more, still staring down at his knees. “’mm glad I didn’ kill you.” He sniffled. “Grace would havvvvve been so upset if I had.” He then dropped his head back down as if the weight was too much.

Alastor looked stricken, his eyes wide and horrified, his ears pinned back. The corners of his smile were straining and looked anything but genuine. “Al?” she asked tentatively.

And then there was a honk from the end of the alleyway, causing both Alastor and Charlie to whip their heads in that direction. There was a limousine, Velvette hoping out of a door and striding down the alleyway with Vaggie trailing behind.

She knelt down between Charlie and Alastor, placing a gentle hand on the back of Vox’s head. “Vox?” she asked softly. There was no reply. “Vox?” she said as she used her other hand to jostle his shoulder slightly, but the only response she got was a pained groan.

“Allow me,” Alastor said, moving to pick Vox up bridal style, ignoring Velvette’s sounds of complaint. Vox moved to wrap his arms around his shoulders, whining.

Velvette frowned but didn’t comment further, realizing how much easier this might be. She huffed. “Fine. Just…be careful.” And then followed Alastor as he walked towards the limo.

Velvette held the door open for them, allowing Alastor to deposit Vox gently inside, far more gently than Charlie had ever seen him handle anyone. Now more than ever, she believed his promise not to hurt Vox again.

Alastor carefully extracted Vox’s arms wrapped around his neck. Once he leaned back out of the limousine, that’s when Charlie noticed the hardness between his legs, making her cheeks flush. Velvette quickly got inside, draping a jacket over his waist to protect his modesty. She positioned herself on the seat with Vox’s head resting on her lap. He made no indication that he registered the motion.

Velvette looked down at him, grabbing one of his hands and twisting their fingers together, their clasped hands resting on Vox’s chest. Without looking up Velvette said, “Thanks.”

Charlie quietly said, “Of course. We were happy to help.”

Velvette shook her head. “You really do mean that?” Why did everyone keep asking her that? Velvette then leaned across and pulled the door closed and the limousine took off down the street.

They watched as it drove away. Vaggie then asked, “I’m assuming we’re calling it a night?”

Charlie nodded. “Yeah. I don’t feel much up to partying.”

Vaggie just nodded, walking off to go call their own limousine and gather the others.

Alastor stood there, still staring at the limo long after it had disappeared from sight. Charlie couldn’t read the facial expression he wore. There were several questions that fluttered through her head, each seeming just as pressing as the last. But finally, one pushed to the front, and she asked, “Who’s Grace?”

Alastor’s left ear twitched but he did not look at her. “Someone who meant a great deal to both of us.”

Charlie paused, her head swirling with so many possibilities as to what that meant. Then, tentatively, “Is she…dead?”

Alastor froze then turned away, walking in the same direction Vaggie had left. Charlie didn’t think he would answer so she was surprised when he said, “No more than either me or Vox.”

Notes:

In 1938:
Xavier is 33
Grace is 33

In 1940:
Xavier is 35
Grace is 35

Historical facts and general information about this chapter:

The Great Depression goes from 1929 - 1939.

The movie, "The Wizard of Oz" was released on August 25, 1939. The phrase "friend of Dorothy" is believed to have originated in the 1940's. It was a coded way for gay men to identify each other. The origin of the phrase is most commonly attributed to the movie because Judy Garland, who starred as the main character Dorothy, is a gay icon. In the film, Dorothy is accepting of those who are different. For example the "gentle lion" living a lie, "I'm afraid there's no denyin', I'm just a dandy lion." Others claim that the phrase refers to celebrated humorist and critic Dorothy Parker, who included some gay men in her famous social circle.

WWII began in 1939 but America doesn't enter the war until 1941 after the bombing of Pearl Harbor.

The Lindy Hop and Jive are types of swing dancing.

 

In this chapter I kind of wanted to show the parallel's between Harvey and Valentino. In both timelines Vox is still fully a victim but has kind of a twisted view of his "participation". His victimization is a little more clear in one timeline perhaps, with the fact he is literally owned by Valentino, but that doesn't mean Harvey doesn't have any sort of significant hold on Xavier. To Grace it's obvious that Xavier is being taken advantage of, and to Velvette it is as well, but to an extent Vox has started believing the twisted justification that both Harvey and Valentino spew. Neither man believes themselves to be a downright bad guy and both see their victims as being at fault for the situation they have found themselves in. And Xavier/Vox has internalized that to an extent and that mindset has carried over into his afterlife.

And gasp! Alastor and Vox are aware of their mutual association to Grace?? I know some people have speculated if they know or not and if so how that revelation looked. Well, it's going to be a while before we get to that. But rest assured we will get there!

As always, stay tuned for the next chapter!

Chapter 25: A Heavenly Meeting III

Summary:

It's 1924 and then 1925. Grace gets married and Alastor takes matters into his own hands.

In the present, Charlie, Vox, and Lilith meet with the Heavenly Host to discuss putting an end to the exterminations. Two new Angels make an appearance, complicating the progression of the meeting, and revealing a shocking truth that leaves Charlie reeling.

Notes:

Heyyyyyy! Soooo I know it's been a while since my last update. I've been very busy and stressed over the past couple of months so I didn't have much time to write. My best friend got married and her wedding was an international one. So as the Maid of Honor I had quite a lot of things I had to do to help get the wedding ready, along with planning the bachelorette party and writing my speech. On top of that me and my partner are moving in together in about a month so that's taken up a lot of my time too. The wedding is over now so that frees up some of my time but I imagine I'm still going to be quite busy until we move in and get settled. So I'm unsure when the next chapter will be out. But at least I got this one out for you guys! I hope you all enjoy!

TW for this chapter: canon typical violence, discussions of domestic violence

1924

Alastor sat at the table, sipping his whiskey as he tried to contain his glare. He was smashed into the back corner, stuck between Mimzy and that same annoying singer he could never quite remember the name of. Everyone was laughing and celebrating, and Alastor couldn’t see much reason to celebrate.

Across the table from him sat Grace who was sitting in the lap of her new husband, Clayton. The man’s hands were all over her, dropping any pretense at propriety. It made Alastor’s blood boil.

“Still can’t believe you two just up and eloped,” said one of the female dancers, sat next to Grace. “Would have been a right beauty of a weddin’ if ya had one.”

Grace gave a small laugh. “It’s not like we have much money. And besides, we wanted it to just be the two of us.” She gave a sweet smile to her husband, very clearly deeply in love.

Her husband in turn took a rather large sip of his drink, spilling some drops onto his bride without thought. He smacked his lips and shrugged. “Not like her family woulda agreed to the marriage anyways. Doin’ it this way leaves ‘em no choice but to accept me now. Y’all should have seen her granddaddy’s face when she introduced me to him as her husband today. Thought the man was goin’ to have a heart attack!”

The table erupted into laughter, even Grace, who was more subdued. While Alastor was always in support of giving the old man a right start, he would have preferred if his near death came about not at the expense of Grace marrying such a despicable man.

“Still,” said another of the dancers. “It would have been a fun wedding.”

“That’s why we’re here!” cried Clayton. “To have a little fun and celebrate!” He downed the rest of his drink before slamming the glass onto the table and pushing himself and Grace to their feet. He took her hand and grinned. “Let’s dance!”

Several other members of their table got to their feet to join the fray where another of their coworkers was entertaining the crowd with song and piano. While Mimzy was allowing her workers to have fun and celebrate, that didn’t mean she was going to close the place down and expected her people to work. The newlyweds were the only ones with the night off.

Mimzy laughed from his side and elbowed him, muttering something he couldn’t hear. “Wrong side,” he grouched out.

Mimzy leaned forwards at the same time she forcibly turned his head towards her, breaking his watchful gaze on the couple. “I said ain’t they pretty together.”

Alastor turned his head back to Grace who laughed as Clayton twirled her around the dance floor. He frowned. “Just beautiful,” he sneered.

He felt more than heard Mimzy dramatically sigh from beside him and then said something else that was lost to the loud room and his deaf ear. Alastor made no response since he couldn’t hear. Moments later Mimzy was manhandling him to his feet, switching seats with him. “How many times have I said you gotta sit to the right of me.”

“You’re the one who shoved me into that seat and sat to MY right. If you wanted to be heard, you knew where to sit,” he snapped.

Mimzy glared at him. “Well, ain’t ya particularly grouchy today.” Mimzy looked back towards the dancing crowd. “Ya know if you keep actin’ like this, people’ll think you’re jealous of the boy.”

Alastor’s nose crinkled at the sickening implication. “I am most certainly NOT jealous of that boy.”

“Yeah, I know that. YOU know that. Ain’t nobody else know the real reason why you look like something crawled up your ass and died, not even Gracie. I’m just sayin’, if you don’t school your face then people are goin’ to get the wrong impression.”

Mimzy was right, to an outside observer people might assume that Alastor’s sour mood had to do with wanting Grace to himself. No one knew the truth. Alastor thought it was ridiculous, however. He wasn’t the only one who had seen the way Clayton spoke to her or being a little too firm with how he grabbed her. His sour mood was understandable.

“I don’ know why you’re so upset anyways,” sighed Mimzy. “If it really bothered ya, then ya would have done somethin’ about this BEFORE they got married.” She gave him a pointed look.

Alastor had considered it many times. His shadow wasn’t even particularly opposed, only stating he needed to be cautious due to Detective Taylor’s near constant lingering presence. It wasn’t until Detective Taylor had spotted Alastor out in the market with Mimzy on his arm and Grace and Clayton accompanying them did his shadow reconsider.

Grace had pled with him to come with them, her eyes wide and sincere, desperate to get closer to the radio host she had idolized as a child who against all odds had become her friend. She was ecstatic when he agreed to it, thinking it a miracle that he would agree. She’d never know the reason why he caved so easily. He regretted it almost immediately when the detective came around the corner, inquiring about the new friends of his. After that his shadow wasn’t so enthusiastic about killing the young man, worried of another person in close proximity to him disappearing or winding up with a bloody smile.

Grace’s doey eyes at the young man held his hand too. “She’s enamored with him,” grumbled Alastor. “It would have broken her heart to see him dead.”

“If you say so. Come on,” said Mimzy, grabbing his hand and dragging him to his feet. “Let’s dance.”

Alastor allowed himself to get lost in the music and rhythm, twirling Mimzy through the room expertly. She was a rather good dance partner but their several years of friendship allowed them to fall into step like professionals. It also allowed Alastor to keep an eye on the newlyweds without having to concentrate on leading.

Grace and Clayton danced together during several songs before breaking away and dancing with their friends and coworkers. They even danced with other guests of the club, strangers and regulars alike. Alastor pushed his way through the crowd as the last song came to an end and Alastor pulled Grace close to him for the next.

“May I have the next dance?” he asked.

She smiled up at him, beaming. “Of course! I’d been waiting for you to ask!”

“Lucky me,” Alastor said, matching her grin.

Grace’s moves were far more coordinated than they once were. During her early days of working for Mimzy, her movements were stiff and unsure. Alastor had immediately taken it upon himself to teach her how to dance properly. No sister of his was going to go through working at one of the most popular speakeasys in New Orleans without knowing how to dance.

Grace laughed as Alastor dipped her low, earning them a couple cheers from the other patrons. When he pulled her back up, she wrapped her free arm around his shoulders, holding on tight. “If anyone else tried that with me I’d panic! I don’t trust anyone else not to drop me.”

“Not even your new husband?” He said with a raised eyebrow.

Grace looked at Clayton out of the corner of her eyes. The man was dancing far too closely with one of the other singers. The twitch of her eyebrows was so small that anyone but Alastor would have missed it. Grace then smiled and said, “Clayton is a lot of things, but a good dancer is not one of them.”

Oh yes, a GREAT many things he was indeed. Alastor hummed. The song continued and eventually flowed into a slow song. Grace and Alastor stepped closer, slowly swaying back and forth, catching their breath and lapsing into silence.

Finally, Grace said, “I do kind of wish we could have had a real weddin’ though.” Her voice was quiet, almost sad. “I always dreamed of havin’ one, the white dress, the music, the guests. Sounds so romantic.”

“Maybe one day you’ll have it,” Alastor said.

Grace looked up at him scandalized. “I’m already married!” She lightly hit his arm, reprimanding him. “I ain’t havin’ another.”

Alastor shrugged. “You never know. A lot of things can happen in life. Sickness. Death. Infidelity.” Alastor pointedly looked at Clayton who was dancing even closer to the other singer, the two practically leaning on each other. Grace’s face noticeably fell that time before quickly looking away.

She shook her head. “He’s just had a bit too much to drink tonight. He wouldn’t do anything in front of me.” Behind her back, went unsaid. “Besides, I took a vow. ‘Till death do us part.’ I love him and that’s final,” she said with a glare. Alastor had never made his distaste of the man secret. Especially not to Grace.

“Besides,” continued Grace after several seconds. “If my first marriage doesn’t work out, I don’t think I’d ever want to get married again. So, any desire for a big weddin’ would be gone. This is it for me. I love Clayton and he loves me.”

Alastor tried to school his facial features but must have failed because Grace sighed. “Look,” she began. “I know you feel protective, and I appreciate it, I do. But he’s my husband now and he’s not going anywhere. You are going to have to get used to him.”

Alastor looked at her when he noticed a bit of blue peaking out from beneath the collar of her dress. He frowned before he quickly pulled the collar further away, revealing a bright blue bruise. His nostrils flared and he said, “Is that what happened with you? You got used to him and his special brand of love?” he hissed.

Grace’s eyes widened before she quickly pulled her dress back into position. Alastor spotted the target of his ire, laughing as he twirled his dance partner. That man. That disgusting animal! How DARE he! Mimzy was right, he should have acted sooner!

“Al, wait!” Alastor took a step towards the other man before Grace pulled him back, her eyes wide and desperate. “He just loses himself sometimes. He’s not usually like that! I swear!”

Anger simmered and Alastor had to take a deep breath to keep from lashing out right there in front of everyone. “He shouldn’t EVER be like that if he truly loves you!”

Grace shook her head. “Not all men are like you, Alastor. Most are more aggressive.”

Oh, if she only knew what sort of man he was, she wouldn’t be saying such things. “How often?” he asked. Grace continued to avoid his gaze, meaning she understood.

She shrugged with one shoulder. “Not often.”

“I have a feeling your definition of ‘often’ and mine are very different,” Alastor growled. What an idiot he had been thinking that more hadn’t happened. He should have killed the man the first moment he saw them in the corner of the club. Alastor knew evil. He knew darkness. And yet he allowed it to fester.

“Stop,” said Grace. “That was then, this is now. He is my husband, and I am his wife. He promised me before the ceremony that he would never lay his hands on me again.”

It was clear in her eyes that she truly believed that. And while Alastor wanted to believe her, he didn’t have the same faith in her new husband that she had. Despite this, he nodded, for he didn’t want to fight. “Fine. But if he ever does it again, I want you to tell me.”

Grace clicked her tongue, looking away. He wouldn’t allow her to drop this though. “I’m serious,” he said. “You will tell me if he breaks his promise.”

“Al-”

“No, you’ll tell me,” he said forcefully.

After several seconds Grace sighed but then gave a small, stiff nod. “I promise.”

Alastor’s shoulders relaxed marginally even if he didn’t know if he believed she would keep her promise. She then leaned her head against his shoulder. He expected it was due in large part to make sure she didn’t have to meet his eyes. Alastor allowed it, pulling her close again, wrapping her in his arms almost as if in an attempt to shield her.

Never would Alastor have dreamed of being here. If even two years ago, someone had told him this is where he would be he would have called them delusional. His sister, the young girl from the first man he had killed, in his arms and none the wiser of their familial relationship and yet just as comfortable dancing with him as if she did know. And yet she shouldn’t feel any sort of comfort with him. No one should. If only she knew who and what he was. If only she knew that they were siblings. If only she knew that he had murdered their father. Alastor heart ached at the sheer amount of lies weighing him down.

The song came to a close before a livelier song started up again. Grace lifted her head, giving a small yet sincere smile to him. “Come on, this is my wedding night. Dance with me and let’s have fun.”

The pang didn’t fully go away but Alastor returned her smile and grabbed her hand. “Let’s show everyone how it’s done.”

The two danced together, expertly swerving in and out of other couples, temporarily forgetting about their conversation. But Alastor vowed, if ever again he found out that that disgusting wretch hurt his sister in any way, he would kill the man, discovery be damned.
_______________________________________________________________
Charlie kept shooting furtive glances towards her mother who sat beside her. They were sitting inside Heaven’s Embassy, waiting for Vox’s arrival. Oh, she hoped he wouldn’t be upset once he saw her mother. Her mother had insisted on attending the meeting at the last moment, catching Charlie unawares. So, she hadn’t had any time to warn the Overlord.

While he had insisted on her father staying out of the meetings with Heaven, he had never said her mother couldn’t attend. Not that Vox had any real authority in saying either royal could not attend. It’s just her father was more…amicable when it came to things like that. It certainly helped that her father hadn’t actually attended any meetings with Heaven for ages, her mother being the one to mostly handle business in recent years, seven years notwithstanding.

“Relax, my dear,” came her mother’s melodic voice. “I have been dealing with Heaven for ages. I know how to handle them.”

Charlie gave her mother a smile. She was right. She was worrying for nothing. Now that her mother was back, their chances of getting what they wanted from Heaven surely had skyrocketed. And now that they no longer needed to try and negotiate the antidote for Alastor, they had other things they could focus on.

The day after the Vee’s party Charlie had gone to Alastor, worried about Vox. The whole thing had been an enigma. Vox’s behavior. All the different people he talked about that Alastor seemed to know. But what was strangest of all was Alastor’s own behavior. Ever since Charlie had brought Vox into their lives, Alastor had been downright antagonistic. Not that he wasn’t usually and to most people. But it was usually more…playful. Like Alastor found it fun. But not with Vox. There was real animosity there. But when they found Vox in that alleyway, Alastor had been…comforting. Protective. It was odd, suffice to say. And she wanted answers.

When she went to him, he seemed off too. Shaken almost. And he didn’t give her any real answers to explain what had happened. For the first time, Charlie didn’t think he was keeping things from her. At least not fully. There were still secrets there and it was clear he knew something but at the same time he still seemed just as confused. It was obvious something was wrong, and it was making her more and more worried.

In the end, Alastor at least gave her some sort of answer. Charlie couldn’t understand how Alastor, injured and dying as he was, managed to carry Vox as if he was in perfect health. Apparently, he was no longer dying, and it was all thanks to Velvette of all people. Charlie had heard of her genius, but she didn’t think she would ever be able to recreate the antidote.

It wasn’t until much later that Charlie realized that Alastor had revealed this bit of information as a way to distract her from asking any other questions and ushering her out of his room in her excitement. She realllly needed to work on her focus. Like this meeting and figuring out how to get Adam out of Hell. And gain peace between realms.

“Of course. You’re right. Everything will be justtttt fine.” Charlie took a deep breath to ground herself, her mother chuckling softly. It was a familiar sound that until just this moment Charlie hadn’t realized how much she had missed it.

There had been so many things she had missed about her mother; her singing, her smile, her hugs, her words of encouragement. And yet somehow, with her mother back, that ache had gotten worse. Maybe it was because after the past seven and a half years she had thoroughly distracted herself from her mother’s absence. Or maybe it was because now that her mother was back…it still felt like she had never returned.

Charlie fidgeted in her seat when she realized that despite her mother having returned just over a month ago, this was the longest Charlie had been in her presence alone.

Her mother’s hand reached across and grabbed one of her hands, pulling her from her spiral. Charlie’s head snapped up to see her mother giving her a soft smile. “Of course it will,” she said. “Now tell me darling, what is on the agenda for this meeting today? I know that your friend is hurt and in need of some antidote after the silly man with the television head foolishly dropped the last.”

Charlie grimaced, remembering the look on Vox’s face afterwards. “Uhh yes, actually we don’t need that anymore. Alastor’s healed now! Vox, uhh the one with the television head, he had his friend recreate the antidote you see! So, Alastor’s all better!”

Her mother blinked at her in surprise before giving her a big smile. “That’s wonderful! And truly incredible that this friend had managed to recreate the antidote. It always astounds me the innovativeness of Demons.”

Charlie bemeaned at her mother. “Exactly! I couldn’t believe it either, but it actually worked!”

Her mother continued to smile but it softened slightly. “Although, I think keeping that information away from Heaven is a good idea. Letting them know we have a way to create an antidote for their poison would be giving away a distinct advantage we have. I think it may be a good idea to explain to them that there was just enough of the antidote left from when the vial broke.”

Charlie wilted but nodded. Alastor had both told her the same thing. As had Vox when she called him after her conversation with Alastor to thank him for helping heal Alastor. Vox barely acknowledged the thanks, nor her concerns and questions about how he was doing, before he hung up. While Charlie could understand why it was a good idea to keep that information from Heaven, she didn’t much like the idea of lying. “Right. Right. Of course.”

“Good,” said her mother. “And Adam.” Her voice had turned harder. “I’m assuming he is another point of topic?”

Charlie nodded hesitantly, not quite sure what her mother’s reaction would be to discussing Adam. She of course had known for ages now that Adam was her mother’s first husband, knew it just like so many others did, and yet until Charlie had met him for the first time, she had never put much thought into him. It’s not like either of her parents ever really discussed the guy. While her father seemed mostly indifferent towards him, maybe even enjoyed teasing him during the last extermination before nearly beating him to death, she didn’t know her mother’s thoughts on the man. She highly doubted it was anything pleasant, however.

“Uhh, yes,” said Charlie. “Vox kind of wants him gone. Adam too. He doesn’t exactly want to stay here in Hell.”

Her mother snorted, surprising Charlie with the unladylike noise. “Of course he doesn’t,” Lilith muttered mostly to herself. “God forbid the golden boy suffer in his ex-wife’s kingdom.”

“Ha ha, literally!” said Charlie in a vain attempt at humor. Her mother blinked at her in confusion. “You know, ‘God forbid’. Because God damned him and sent him to Hell.”

Her mother just stared at her for several seconds, no sign of a laugh or smile on the horizon. Real nice, she thought. Since when did spending time with your own mother become so awkward?

“Uhm, annnyyyways,” said Charlie, looking away and changing the subject. “Yeah, we are trying to negotiate getting Adam sent back to Heaven, not that we’re making much progress on that.”

Lilith hummed. “I thought this Vox wanted Adam to join his little team, the Vee’s,” she said with a sneer.

Charlie thought back to the Overlord’s meeting where Valentino had declared his intent to have Adam become the next Vee, Adam confirming this. Charlie frowned and shook her head. “That was Valentino. I can assure you Vox reallllly doesn’t want him to be here.”

Lilith raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?”

Charlie gave her a nod. “Of course.” Great, now her mother was also skeptical about her trust in Vox. But she was sure that he didn’t want Adam here.

Her mother hummed again. She then tapped at her thigh, falling into silence in what Charlie always thought of as her “thinking face”. “Well, we shall see what ground we can make with Heavon on the matter of Adam. Anything else?”

Charlie tipped her head to the side. “I mean yeah, arguably the biggest point of topic is the exterminations and putting a stop to them.”

Her mother whipped her head towards her. “What?”

Charlie’s brows furrowed in confusion at her mother’s startled reaction, opening her mouth to answer but thankfully she was saved from coming up with an answer when the doors to the embassy opened. In strode Vox and Charlie felt immediate relief. Not only did he look leagues better than the last time she saw him, but he was far better at this sort of thing and would be able to help her explain everything about the exterminations to her mother.

“Vox!” Charlie got to her feet and rushed over to meet him halfway, pulling him into a hug. The Overlord let out a sound of surprise before his arms came up to awkwardly pat at her back. “How are you feeling? You feeling better?”

Where Vox’s cheeks would be, his screen darkened to pink. He averted his eyes and rubbed at the back of his neck with one hand. “Uhh, yep. Right as rain. Never better.”

“Are you sure?” she asked in concern. “Velvette said someone drugged you with-”

“Yep!” he said abruptly. “I’m just fine. Truly. I appreciate you checking in but really, I’m fine. Everything left my system long ago.”

Charlie frowned but knew that now wasn’t the time to address this. She was more than aware of her mother still sitting behind her. So, showing a great deal of restraint on Charlie’s part, she dropped it.

Vox then looked at her, his shoulders tense and brows slightly furrowed before he dropped his voice slightly. “I am sorry though you had to see that. I wasn’t exactly the best host, now was I?” He let out a self-deprecating laugh.

Charlie gave him a sympathetic smile. “It’s alright. It’s not like any of it was exactly your fault, now was it?”

Vox looked away again, his mouth forming into a thin line. “Right.” His gaze then landed on her mother and Charlie turned.

“Oh yeah, uhm, Vox this is my mother, the Queen of Hell.” Charlie wanted to face palm at the obvious introduction but also knew that it was only right to afford her mother her proper title when being introduced. “Mom, this is Overlord Vox.”

Lilith gave Vox an unimpressed look. “I’m aware of who he is.”

That’s right, they had more-or-less met at the Overlord’s meeting. And her mother had seemed less than pleased by Vox and the other Vee’s. Granted they HAD brought Adam unannounced, but Charlie knew that wasn’t Vox’s fault.

Vox stepped forward and gave a deep bow to her mother. “It’s an honor to properly meet you, Your Majesty.” While such displays made Charlie uncomfortable when others did it to her, she knew that such respect went a long way with her mother. Charlie looked up eagerly to see her mother’s reaction but was met with an unimpressed look. Charlie frowned.

Vox stood back up and if he noticed the expression turned his way, he didn’t so much as twitch. “Allow me to formerly apologize on my colleague’s behalf at the last Overlord’s meeting. Such a disrespect should never have happened. You have my deepest apologies.”

The Queen hummed, tilting her head up slightly to look down her nose at Vox. “And which colleague are you apologizing for?” She raised a single unenthusiastic eyebrow. “Your fellow Overlord or Adam?”

Vox blinked and his brows twitched. “Valentino, of course.” Vox shook his head. “Adam is NOT a colleague.”

“Are you sure about that?” she drawled. “This…Valentino was it? He seemed to more than imply he was. ‘The newest member of the Vee’s’, he said.”

Charlie saw a single spark of electricity travel between his antennae. “Adam is not a member of the Vee’s, nor will he ever be,” Vox said with finality.

Lilith tilted her head to the side. “My daughter said you wish Adam gone from Hell.” Her eyes flicked towards her daughter before returning to Vox. “Is that true?”

Vox straightened up slightly and nodded. “Yes, your Majesty. That is one of the reasons why I have helped Charlie engage in these negotiations with Heaven.”

Lilith hummed. “Yes, one of them.” Lilith gave him an assessing look. “The antidote for the Radio Demon was another.” Charlie watched as Vox tensed beside her. “But my daughter tells me that’s no longer a necessity.” Lilith then gave him a wide smile. “It seems that your other…colleague managed to recreate it all on her own. Quite impressive.”

Vox brought his hands behind himself, clasping them together. It appeared to be a casual move and yet Charlie noticed the white knuckled grip he had. “Velvette is a certifiable genius. I’m quite proud of my business partners accomplishments.”

“Yes, I’ve been doing quite a bit of my own research about the goings on in Hell over the past 8 years or so of my being out of the public eye,” she said. Charlie frowned again. It was more than just being out of the public eye. “She has made quite the name for herself in such a short amount of time. You have a tendency to draw the attention of those just like her.”

Vox frowned slightly. “I’m not quite sure what you mean, your Majesty.”

Lilith gave an unconcerned shrug, but Charlie knew it was anything but. “Valentino was rather new to Hell before quickly making a name for himself and making your acquaintance. Not to mention the Radio Demon is one of the most notorious Demons who quickly made his power known as soon as he arrived in Hell.” Lilith gave him a pointed look. “And they all have taken an interest in you.” Lilith then looked towards her daughter. “What makes you so special, I wonder?”

The real question was obvious, why had Charlie taken an interest in him. Or maybe the Queen’s real concern was if Vox had taken an interest in her.

Vox gave the Queen a wide smile, one Charlie was familiar with from his various ads. “I am a rather well-known figure in Hell. Not anywhere near as you, of course, but you don’t get to where I am without some natural charm!”

“Charm,” she drawled, unconvinced. “Is that what you call it? Your corporate greed and preying on the desires and weaknesses of all the damned Sinners of Hell.” Lilith pushed herself to standing, coming face-to-face with Vox. She raised one hand and tapped his screen, right over his left eye, making him flinch back. “And I’m sure this little thing has nothing to do with it.”

Vox was scowling at her mother, but he quickly schooled it into one of neutrality, but the mask had already slipped. He began adjusting his suit, straightening out imaginary wrinkles. “This is Hell, your Majesty. A little light hypnotization is far from the worst sins committed before or after Sinners have arrived here. And besides, my power has no effect on anyone with a good amount of power to their name.” He straightened his back once more and clasped his hands behind his back. “Overlords and anyone above are entirely safe.”

Charlie whipped her head towards her mother to see her reaction. Surely that would put any concerns to rest. Her mother continued to stare at Vox for several seconds though, her expression not revealing anything. Then finally she smiled.

“Well, now isn’t that a relief. I would hate to find out you are using my daughter in any sort of way,” she said. “Although,” she paused. “I suppose it is disappointing knowing your power doesn’t have any real use. Otherwise, these negotiations with Heaven wouldn’t be so difficult.” Vox couldn’t hide the frown at his wounded pride, but her mother continued. “Tell me, Mr. Vox, what is the ultimate goal anyways for these negotiations?”

Vox blinked in confusion and turned towards Charlie.

“L-like I said, mom,” she said as she stepped forwards. “These exterminations need to stop and Heaven’s already in talks with us about it for the first time in centuries! This is incredible and they have a Seraphim, Emily, who I just really think is on our side and wants the same things as us and-”

“It won’t work.”

Charlie stared wide-eyed at her mother’s interruption which caught her off guard. Her mother then gave her a sympathetic smile and cupped her cheek. “Oh darling, I know how much you hate the exterminations, I do too. But I know Heaven and they will never put a stop to the exterminations.”

Charlie wilted, knowing that her mother had told her about all the failed meetings with Heaven where they refused to put a stop to the senseless exterminations. As a child, she’d weep as her mother held her after each extermination, crying for all their slaughtered people. Her mother would hum to her as she rocked her back and forth in an attempt to soothe her. It never helped for every time Charlie would rush to her mother after a meeting with Heaven and ask if they would put a stop to the killings, but the answer was always the same. And she feared it still would be.

“Heaven didn’t know though.” Both women’s heads turned towards Vox. “The greater population I mean. But they know now and it’s clear that Heaven at large isn’t as supportive as those in charge. And Charlie’s right, there is a Seraphim on our side. And after how the last extermination ended, with a significant number of their army being killed, the chances of the exterminations being put to an end are greater than ever.”

Charlie felt her heart sore at the support and beamed at Vox. Her father hadn’t fully supported her in this. And now her mother wasn’t either. But here Vox was, backing her up, and it made all her faith in him that so many had told her was misplaced feel validated.

His eyes met hers. “If anyone can negotiate a stop to these exterminations, I think Charlie can.”

She couldn’t take it anymore, she launched herself towards him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, squeezing hard. He was forced to catch her, or they would have both tumbled to the ground. With her head buried in his shoulder, she mumbled just loud enough for him to hear, “Thank you.” She felt the barest squeeze from his arms wrapped around her.

And then the clock began to chime.

They pulled away from each other and Charlie nodded. “It’s time.”

She began to march towards the conference room when her mother stopped her. “Charlie, just…wait.” Charlie looked up at her mother who sighed. “I just don’t want you to get your hopes up. And you need to be careful. You may have a Seraphim on your side but there is way more Angels that you’d have to convince to put a stop to everything and ask for peace. The Seraphim are the least of our worries, and you need to manage your expectations.”

Charlie frowned. Her mother sounded so much like…like her father. He had always been the pessimistic one. The one who resented Heaven and didn’t believe in her dreams. And yet he had been more than willing to set up these meetings after the extermination. Granted, he had been initially reluctant when she just wanted to meet with them about her redemption goals but now, they knew it was possible. In the end, she had convinced her father. She can convince Heaven. And she can convince her mother.

“Just…” her mother started. “Let me handle things. I’ve had my fair share of dealings with the Angels.” She offered Charlie a smile and began to lead the way.

Charlie trailed behind, suddenly nervous about how this was going to go. Vox came up beside her and said just loud enough for her to hear, “What the HELL was all that?” Charlie cringed. “And why didn’t you tell me she was going to be part of this meeting.”

“I didn’t know either!” she whispered back. “She just decided she was going to be a part of this and that was that.”

Vox sighed. “I can only hope she’s not going to make things worse like your father almost did. We are in very precarious times. We are just as likely to start a war as we are to broker peace with Heaven.”

“I know, I know!” said Charlie, wringing her hands together.

“And why the Hell was she so pissy?” he asked. “What did I do to shit in her corn flakes?”

Charlie shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe she’s still just pissed Valentino brought Adam to the Overlord’s meeting? He IS her ex.”

Vox sighed and ran his hand down his screen. “Fuck my life. The last thing I need is making an enemy out of a royal.”

Charlie grabbed his arm and gave him a reassuring squeeze. “It’ll be ok. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Vox let out a humorless laugh. “If only, Princess. If only.”

Charlie wanted to say more but they had arrived at the doors. Her mother turned to them with one hand resting on the doors. “Ready?”

They both nodded and so she pushed the doors open.
___________________________________________________________
1925

For the first in quite a while, Alastor’s hands felt stained with blood.

They were clean now, not a spec of red on them, but for the past couple of weeks any time he’s looked at them he has felt like the urge to scrub them raw. In his dreams, he still sees them stained with his sister’s blood.

With great surprise, Grace had kept her promise to him. It was the middle of the night when she knocked on his door, weeping and covered in her own blood. She barely could stand on her own two feet, both bare of any shoes, and her right eye swollen shut. Her dress was only hanging on by one sleeve, the other torn and hanging down by her bruised side. When Alastor had opened the front door, his shadow laying in wait at his feet for some sort of intruder, Grace had practically thrown herself into his arms.

He carried her inside and to the bathroom where he cleaned her up as she told him of how Clayton had hurt her through her tears. Alastor’s blood had boiled with each passing word.

Regret was the primary emotion he felt, just above the rage. He should have taken care of Clayton ages ago. Long before he ever had the chance to marry Grace. He had told himself that he had made the right decision to trust Grace’s judgment over the course of the past year since he never saw any other bruises and Grace had never once told him Clayton had broken his own promise. Granted, Grace very well could have been hiding it better and this was the first time any chance of hiding the damage that had been done had flown out the window. Either way, Alastor should have taken action sooner but his own worries of being caught had out won his desire to kill.

‘Don’t allow the guilt and regret to control you,’ hissed his shadow. ‘There will be time for that later. Right now, you must focus on the task at hand if you want to get away free.’

It was right, he needed to focus. His plans for this murder were different to any he had done recently. He couldn’t leave Clayton to be found with his signature calling call of the bloody smile. Nor did he want to dispose of him completely in the swamp, left to be eaten by the alligators. Despite the terrible deed committed by the despicable man, his sister still held affection for the man. It would hurt her even more to be left wondering where he had gone or what had happened to him. She needed closure.

‘The swamp taking him would be better,’ hissed his shadow. ‘Less chance of the police finding anything that could connect his murder to you.’

Alastor shook his head. “If someone else who has connections to me were to disappear without any trace Detective Taylor would be even more suspicious. A run of the mill murder will do nicely.”

It helped that Clayton’s money problems and former association to Storyville were well known. A simple stabbing wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibilities for him.

Alastor had even allowed almost a full month since Grace showed up on his doorstep to pass before deciding to act. He’d been sheltering her without anyone’s knowledge, bar Mimzy. She had to be made aware of Grace’s absence from work and the reason why. The look Mimzy gave him when he told her spoke volumes. She was just as enraged as Alastor, and she knew that the young man wasn’t long for the world.

She had nearly sprung into action and fired Clayton on the spot. With great difficulty, Alastor had managed to convince Mimzy not to act rashly. Acting as if neither of them knew what had happened or Grace’s whereabouts was necessary to keep Clayton’s suspicions away from them. It was unbelievably frustrating having to watch Clayton lie directly to their faces and act like Grace had just fallen ill and was at home, all the while panicking silently as he attempted to locate his missing wife who when he had seen her last was severely injured.

He wondered if the young man worried that Grace had fallen in a ditch somewhere and had died. Maybe she had stumbled too closely to the bayou in her pain and been eaten by an alligator. Or maybe another unsavory character had found her in her vulnerable state and taken advantage of her.

Alastor would make sure that no one would ever lay another finger on her. And certainly not her husband.

In the end, Alastor decided that breaking into Clayton and Grace’s home was the best way to do it. The young man apparently had a tendency to leave their home unlocked. Foolish really considering his less than savory past. And if the boy remembered to actually keep the door locked, he had taken Grace’s key without her knowledge.

He tested the door handle and sure enough, unlocked. He knew Clayton wasn’t home for he was at work. Thanks to Mimzy, he knew exactly when the young man was meant to leave. Early, he had organized with her. Alastor didn’t want Clayton to get off at a normal time, arriving home just before dawn. Alastor wanted plenty of time to do the deed, make sure no evidence was left behind, and get away without anyone seeing him. The last thing he needed was some neighbor providing a description of him to the police. He wanted to keep Detective Taylor as far away from this as possible.

Alastor looked at his watch and saw he had plenty of time to prepare. He placed his bag of tools onto the kitchen table, pulling out ropes and knives and cloth. He didn’t want to make too much noise and drag out the scene too long, but he also couldn’t help the urge to make the man suffer.

‘Do not allow your emotions to get the better of you. Control.’

Alastor took a deep breath and closed his eyes, collecting himself. Control. He was in control.

And then he waited.

And then the man arrived.

And then Alastor struck.

A quick yet firm strike to the back of the head subdued him long enough for Alastor to get him restrained with rope. Cloth was shoved into his mouth, silencing him. Alastor turned on a small radio in the corner of the room to muffle any other noise.

And then he took a seat before the restrained man and allowed him to fully come to himself and realize the predicament he was in. Confusion flashed behind his eyes first. Then fear. Then rage when he saw Alastor. Then fear again when he saw the glint of the knife in Alastor’s hands.

“You know why I’m here, don’t you?” Alastor was proud of just how calm his tone sounded. It was almost conversational. It betrayed none of his true emotions.

Clayton struggled on the ground, attempting to pull his hands out from their trap but Alastor was far too skilled for the man to break loose. “Of course you do. You and I have never made our distaste for each other secret. You may try to bite your tongue around Mimzy but you have never much liked me, ever since we first met. I know it must have rankled to have a non-white man be treated with such well regard at your place of business, all the while you man the door. Made you feel inferior, didn’t it?”

There was the hatred. Even while in such a dangerous position, the boy couldn’t hide his hatred.

Alastor leaned close. “Well let me tell you something, you are inferior,” he said lowly. “You are the lowest of the low.” Alastor lifted up one foot and shoved it into Clayton’s face, slamming his head into the floor. “You are even below the dirt and scum on the bottom of my shoes.” He ground his heel into the man’s forehead, delighting in the grunts of pain and discomfort. “The moment you laid a single finger on the woman you were supposed to love and treat better than all else, even yourself, was the day you became less than dirt. Although I seriously doubt you were ever much higher than even that.”

Alastor lifted his foot, releasing Clayton. There was dirt smeared on his forehead, putting a smile on Alastor’s face. That’s right, smile. Always keep your enemy guessing. When Alastor smiled, Clayton’s brows twitched, pulling together in fear. Good. He should be very afraid.

“While I’d love to hear you scream, I can’t have your neighbors hear.” Alastor got to his feet, pulling his chair back and away from the other man. “I will have to make do with your grunts of pain. They will sustain me for quite some time. Just as your soul will sustain Her.”

There was a note of confusion then. He was sure that Clayton thought he was referring to Grace. He wondered if he thought Grace knew he was there, even asked Alastor to hurt him. The reality was that Grace had begged him not to tell anyone or do anything as he held her that first night.

“Don’t give me that look,” Alastor said as he saw anger begin to reenter Clayton’s eyes. “She doesn’t even know I’m here. She still loves you even after all you’ve done.” She was a gentle soul. Just like his mother had been. Alastor hadn’t been able to save her, but he would make sure that he saved his sister. “You should be thankful to her. If it wasn’t for her, you’d have been dead long ago.”

Alastor approached Clayton and made sure his smile was in place, showing as many of his teeth as he could. The room began to darken around the edges. Alastor took great glee in watching Clayton’s eyes widen in terror as Alastor’s shadow reared up behind him. In the corner of the room a mirror hung, giving Alastor his first view of the terrible monster he painted. He was terrifying. He was a horror. He looked like Death itself.

It was magnificent.

“What’s wrong? You should smile! I’m going to make this far quicker and less painful than you deserve.”

Oh, the muffled screams of pain and horror were even more magnificent.

Alastor walked out of the home, having left the door wide open for the scene to be discovered later. It wasn’t as bloody as he would have liked and yet blood still clung to his hands like the finest glove.

He made his way to his car and drove away, not once looking back. As he drove his smile remained, wide and gleaming. He felt giddy. He felt light. He felt lighter than he had in ages.

Grace was free. She was safe. And he had made her safe.

For the first time since before his first kill, he truly felt that maybe, just maybe, he was doing good. Grace may still love her husband, but no longer would she be harmed by him. He had saved her.

Maybe the Mistress wasn’t so wrong. Maybe she wasn’t some Demon. Maybe she was an Angel. Maybe delivering her souls truly was a righteous act. Yes. Yes, maybe She was right.

Alastor was so lost in his high that he didn’t notice his shadows silence. Unbeknownst to him, his shadow swirled at his feet, uneasy, feeling the happy thoughts from him and the pleased contentment from Her.
___________________________________________________________
The last meeting with Heaven was far less full than the first, only Emily, Sera, and Sir Pentious making an appearance. While all were still present, sitting down at the table there were two newcomers she was unfamiliar with. But clearly her mother wasn’t, for she froze in her tracks.

“Lilith,” said the shorter of the two. “Well, isn’t this a pleasant surprise.”

Charlie’s eyes widened when she looked at him more. The Angels voice said it was anything but “pleasant”, as did the deep frown he wore. His hair was blonde, slicked back and cropped short. His eyes were sharp, narrowed on her mother. He was leaning back in his chair, poised with an air of authority. His skin was pale, and his face sported no nose. If it wasn’t for the striking blue irises and distinct lack of rosy red circles on his cheeks, Charlie would have thought the Angel was her father.

“Michael,” her mother said in a clipped tone. “I wasn’t expecting you to be part of this meeting.”

“Nor I you.” His eyes moved towards Charlie. “And this must be your spawn.”

Her mother’s back stiffened. “This is my DAUGHTER. Your niece,” she said pointedly.

Charlie stared at her mother in surprise before looking back at the Angel, Michael. He gave Lilith a mildly disgusted look. “Please don’t say that. Lucifer cut all ties to us millennia’s ago.” Michael’s attention was then drawn towards the side of Charlie. “And what about him? He your pet or something?”

Charlie bristled at that, ready to come to Vox’s defense but Emily stepped forwards. “Uhh, actually, they don’t keep Sinners as pets. They’re just…people, like the former humans in Heaven.”

“Really? He has a television for a head. They don’t use him for entertainment?” Michael asked.

“Vox is his own person,” said Charlie, forcefully. “He is not meant for ours, or anyone else’s entertainment. Isn’t that right, Vox?”

She turned towards him but paused when she saw him staring wide-eyed towards the Angels, almost like he was in some sort of trance. “Uhh, Vox?” She laid a gentle hand on his forearm making him jump. He blinked rapidly and turned startled eyes towards Charlie before whipping his head back towards the Angels. No, towards just one of them.

Sir Pentious let out a soft chuckle, looking towards the other newcomer. “It’s rather strange, isn’t it? It’s like the greatest sort of déjà vu.”

Charlie’s brows furrowed in confusion, but Vox seemed to understand because he gave a small nod. Charlie looked at the other unfamiliar Angel and blinked rapidly as if her eyes were deceiving her. For a second it appeared as if there was a slight shimmer surrounding the Angel and she wondered if Heaven’s projection was faulty but no, it wasn’t a shimmer. She squinted and saw that it appeared their skin was almost translucent. No, it WAS translucent, allowing her to see a faint outline of the Angel’s skeleton. Her eyebrows rose in shock. She had never seen an Angel look as such, not even a DEMON, and being able to see one’s skeleton seemed far more like a Demon’s form than an Angel’s.

The Angel stared back at Vox. “Does my form bother you? I know that former humans can sometimes find this form unnerving.” The Angel’s voice was quiet, just loud enough for everyone to barely hear. It was almost soothing. Almost.

The Angel’s skin then slowly became more and more opaque until none of them could see their skeleton. It allowed the Angel’s features to become more defined.

Charlie realized then that the Angel looked similar to Michael but at least not a near copy, like her father. This Angel sat upright in their chair, giving them all their undivided attention. In fact, it was almost unnerving with the intensity Charlie saw in their dark eyes. Their hair was also darker, more dirty blonde, almost brunette. Their features were also soft with a distinct androgenous quality to them. She did not know if the Angel was male or female or perhaps identified as a different gender. Did Heaven allow such things? From her understanding Earth wasn’t the most accepting of those sorts of things and believed Heaven wasn’t either.

While the Angel was only sitting in their seat, not threatening in the least, she couldn’t help but feel slightly weary of them. Like there was an almost sort of “wrongness” to them but she couldn’t pinpoint why.

“How’s that?” they asked, directing the question towards Vox.

Vox blinked and then nodded. “Y-yes.” He quickly cleared his throat. “That’s good, uhm, good.” Charlie watched as he began to fidget with his jacket, straightening it once more. She saw a slight red tinge on his cheeks in embarrassment.

The Angel inclined their head towards Vox. Michael just rolled his eyes. “I’ll still never understand that. Why former humans act so enraptured by you, meanwhile most Heavenborn can barely stand to be in the same room as you.”

The Angel turned their intense gaze towards Michael. “The comfort that others feel around me is not meant for you, brother. It is only natural for you to be weary in my presence while those who have already died feel differently. It’s meant to ease their suffering.”

“And yet once people know who and what you are, the spell breaks,” bit out Lilith. “You sure you all didn’t expect me to be here? Brought Azrael in an attempt to pacify me?”

The newcomer, Azrael apparently, tilted their head in question. “When have I ever pacified you? I think any chance of that had vanished the day Lucifer had been banished from Hell.”

“You mean the day you killed me?” she hissed. Charlie gasped.

“I did not kill you,” Azrael said. “I simply helped guide your soul to Hell with your husband. You had already died.”

“You’re right,” she said. “He killed me.” Her mother motioned towards Michael.

Azrael finally frowned, breaking their intensely neutral look, while Michael scoffed. “You were being punished for disobeying Father and helping corrupt Eve. You got what you deserved.”

Charlie bristled on behalf of her mother who looked murderously at Michael. Emily was the one to intervene yet again. “Michael, sir. Please, we are here to establish a positive dialogue with Hell,” she said, looking at Michael pleadingly.

Michael looked to his side where she stood and sighed, his features softening. “Fine. I’ll entertain your peace talks.” He waved his hand towards Charlie. “You may proceed.”

Charlie frowned, who met eyes with Emily. Emily shot her an apologetic look and then stepped forward, addressing both Michael and Azrael. “As Sera and I had discussed, the court has been discussing putting a stop to the practice of sending Angel’s to Hell to carry out the barbaric exterminations. It’s not just. It’s not right.”

Michael hummed but kept his eyes on Charlie and her mother. Meanwhile, Azrael kept their eyes on Vox. “And do you hold the same opinion, Sera?” Michael asked without turning.

Sera hesitated. “I believe that allowing Hell to regain its forces is dangerous.”

“But Sera,” cried Emily. “What about the countless possible souls that could be redeemed?” She threw out a hand towards Sir Pentious who looked uneasy being the center of attention. “We know it’s possible now. If we are concerned about Hell’s overpopulation problem, then shouldn’t we be seeking a more humane approach and helping Charlie redeem Sinners? Heaven is ever expanding and can hold infinite souls. Hell doesn’t have the same luxury.”

Heaven could hold infinite souls? Charlie felt excitement at the news and the prospect of all of her people finding a safe haven away from torment and pain.

“Hell doesn’t have ANY luxuries,” said Michael. “That’s the point. It’s a pit meant to punish those who have thrown away Father’s gift of life and turned to a life of sin. If anything, our exterminations are a mercy to the damned, ending their eternal suffering.”

“A mercy?” scoffed Charlie. “You call ending a soul permanently a mercy? And what about second chances? Forgiveness? Isn’t that what Heaven is all about?”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “The Princess of Hell who has spent less than a day in Heaven thinks she knows what Heaven is all about, hhm?”

“She’s not wrong, Michael,” said Azrael, surprising Charlie. “Father always preached forgiveness and mercy. Killing Sinners is neither.”

Michael finally tore his gaze away from the royals and scoffed at his sibling. “And what do you suggest? We allow every Demon in Hell to wreak havoc upon our home?”

“We allow the Princess to continue with her goal of redemption, unimpeded, and without the threat of her people dying every year,” Azrael responded. Charlie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She knew there were Angel’s in Heaven who while might not agree with her goal of redemption at least disagreed with the exterminations, Emily was a perfect example, but to have an Archangel agree was huge. Charlie suddenly felt bad for her negative assessment of the Angel earlier despite how being near the Angel still made her skin prickle uncomfortably.

“This is ridiculous,” said Michael, looking up at Sera who stood behind Azrael wearing an uncertain look. “Can you believe this utter ridiculousness? One measly Sinner finds a way into Heaven and now all of a sudden, the pipedream of redemption is possible.” He glared at his sibling and then threw a thumb over his shoulder at Sir Pentious. “You sure you didn’t just take a wrong turn when delivering him to wherever he should have gone when he died a second time?”

“I do not deal with final deaths,” said Azrael. “You know this.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Michael. “You just deliver souls to Heaven or Hell. And yet here is a Sinner in Heaven after his final death who had CLEARLY been delivered there somehow. You two SURE he just appeared in front of you out of nowhere?” he said, addressing the Seraphim.

“Yes, sir,” answered Sera. “He appeared in a bright light before us as he is now.”

Michael hummed. “Which is odd. Different than how every other soul is delivered to Heaven. Everyone else arrives at the pearly gates.” Michael narrowed his eyes towards Charlie and Lilith. “Which is rather curious. Makes one wonder if there isn’t something else going on here.”

Lilith laughed. “You don’t seriously think that this is some grand scheme to have Sinners infiltrate Heaven?”

Michael’s eyes narrowed further. “I don’t know, is it?”

Several tense seconds lingered between them, Archangel and Queen glaring back at each other.

“The proof of redemption doesn’t just lie with Sir Pentious though, does it?” Every head turned to look at Vox, who had remained uncharacteristically quiet. He fidgeted when he met Azrael’s eyes, who was the only one who had been focused on him already. Vox looked away and rolled his shoulders back. “Adam is in Hell, and it has already been established during our first meeting that he died, he appeared in Hell like all other Sinners do, and he was without a doubt a Demon.” Vox looked at Sera. “The King said you could determine if a soul was an Angel, Demon, or human. Surely you have checked to see if Sir Pentious is an Angel or Demon.”

Sera’s brows furrowed but she eventually nodded. “I have.”

“And?” Vox asked expectantly.

Sera hesitated and then her shoulders drooped. “He is an Angel.”

“Then that proves it!” cried Charlie. “I don’t know why we are still debating if it is or isn’t. Redemption is possible and every Sinner down here is a possible future redeemed soul.”

Michael scowled. “Even if it’s possible that doesn’t mean every Sinner is capable of redemption.” He leaned forwards, his projection shimmering as he placed his forearms on the table. “Countless Sinners have died over the course of millennia and yet out of all of them there has only ever been one Sinner who has made it to Heaven.” He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound like very good odds for your Sinners.”

Charlie opened her mouth to argue but she snapped it shut. He had a point. Out of all of the Sinners who had died a second death there had only ever been one who made it to Heaven. But then again, none of them had been trying, right? Sir Pentious was the only one who had been so that had to account for everything Charlie had been doing, right?

“And yet out of the relatively small numbers of Angels who have died a second time, we already have our very own new Demon to show for it,” said Vox, his arms crossed.

That was…a very good point.

“Seems to me like maybe there’s a fair number of Angels up in Heaven that might not be so deserving of paradise anymore,” Vox said.

Sera bristled. “They are all Angels that have been accepted into God’s kingdom. It is their right to stay in Heaven.”

“And what about Adam?” he asked. Charlie saw her mother watching Vox critically once he mentioned Adam. “If he was accepted into God’s kingdom, then why not allow him back into Heaven?”

“He is no longer an Angel,” Sera said with a sniff.

“And Sir Pentious is no longer a Demon,” he said. Sir Pentious blinked in surprise.

Michael sighed and leaned back in his seat. “Your point is?”

“My point is you keep making arguments for whatever best suits your opinion on that particular subject,” said Vox. “Redemption isn’t possible, and Sir Pentious is a way for Hell to infiltrate Heaven. Yet you say Adam is certainly a Demon and not allowed back to Heaven. Exterminations are our punishment, yet you also call it mercy. They should be allowed to continue due to our overpopulation problem and your fear of being outnumbered and yet the Princess offers you a new humane solution.”

“Humane, hhm?” drawled Michael. “It seems that this redemption for Sinners or damnation for Angels has to come about by a second death.” Michael turned an amused look towards her. “Tell me, Princess, how do you propose to test your redemption theory on other Sinners? Are you planning on driving an Angelic blade through their hearts yourself? Seems to me like our exterminations is the best way to test out your theory and see if it was a one-off.”

Charlie reared back at the suggestion of her killing any of her own people. She would never do such a thing! And yet, Michael’s question was something she hadn’t even thought about. She now knew redemption was possible, but at the cost of a life. Of course, that life would be resurrected, if you will, but that was a significant risk. Without the Sinner dying, how can she prove that a soul had been redeemed? She was right back to where she was months ago when she first appeared before the Angelic court to propose her redemption goal.

“Which sounds like a perfect reason to STOP the exterminations to me,” said Vox.

Michael turned an amused look his way. “Oh?” he laughed. “Do tell me how you reached that conclusion.”

Vox shrugged, putting on a nonchalant air. “Well, exterminations lead to more Sinner deaths and now, more Angel deaths.” Sera shuffled uncomfortably behind the Archangel’s. “That’s a fact. At this point, none of you can think that Hell is just going to roll over and allow the indiscriminatory slaughter of us to continue when we know we can kill all of you too.” Michael’s eyes narrowed. “So, more deaths on both sides. The knowledge that redemption is possible is going to spread and there will be more souls that come to her hotel to try it out. With more Sinners trying for redemption, the chances of Sinners getting to Heaven will increase, and vice versa, because I can guarantee you, Adam was not a one off. Souls from both realms will now be sent to the opposite realm, permanently. And while another Demon in Hell who hates everyone and doesn’t have a problem stabbing their fellow Demon in the back is not uncommon, I seriously doubt things will turn out fine for Heaven when former Sinners start showing up there in the middle of a war between the two realms.”

Sera looked sick at the prospect and even Emily looked unnerved. The future Vox painted wasn’t just a war between Heaven and Hell, but a possible civil war within Heaven as well. The sidelong glance the two Archangel’s shot each other made Charlie wonder if they already were. Here they were, split down the middle, one Seraphim and Archangel for the continued exterminations, and one Seraphim and Archangel against it. Or at least Azrael seemed to be. Her unease still made it hard for her to get a good feel for them.

Michael nodded his head towards her mother. “And what say you, Lilith? You’ve been oddly quiet through most of our discussion which is quite odd. You’ve always been quite vocal on the subject of the exterminations.”

Her mother tipped her head up, staring stony faced back. “My daughters’ goal of redemption is a…possible solution to the issue at hand.”

Charlie frowned. Michael raised an eyebrow. “Oh? You think this is the best course of action now? There still is only one documented case of a redeemed soul. You can’t seriously think that this will solve your overpopulation problem.”

“Overpopulation problem?” said Charlie in disbelief. “We are talking about continuing to kill souls. And your constant exterminations have gone a long way towards handling any overpopulation. We have more than enough time to worry about that problem while I focus on redeeming souls.”

“And then what, Princess?” asked Michael. “You still haven’t proposed a solution to dealing with those possible redeemed souls without killing them yourself and sending them to us directly!”

“Or you can just let them through your doors yourselves!” said Charlie. “Why do you have to kill them to say they are redeemed?”

“Because thus far, that’s the only way you can prove they are redeemed!” said Michael.

“Just a couple minutes ago you couldn’t even say for yourself if Sir Pentious was redeemed or not,” said Charlie. “What difference does it making willingly letting them in?”

“I am not going to allow chaos to descend upon my realm!” cried Michael, his voice booming.

“But you do mine?” shouted back Charlie, not cowed in the slightest.

“I’M not the one who allowed it!” he said, slamming his hands on the table and standing.

“Then who?” she cried back, accusingly. “Your Father? The Almighty and Merciful God?!”

Instead of shouting back, like Charlie expected, Michael paused. He narrowed his eyes at her but it wasn’t in a glare, he seemed assessing. His gaze flicked towards her mother and then he smiled. “Oh,” he said in an amused voice. “Oh Lilith. She doesn’t even know, does she?” And then he laughed.

Charlie’s brows furrowed in confusion, looking towards Emily for answers but she looked just as confused as she stared at Michael. Sera looked nervous and Azrael…their face was unreadable. Finally, though they were looking at her instead of Vox, staring at her with their unnerving eyes.

“Enough, Michael,” said her mother who glared back at him.

He just gave her a cruel grin. “Tell me, does my idiot of a brother even know? Or did you keep him in the dark too?”

“Enough,” growled her mother.

“Mom?” She asked in question.

“He doesn’t know, does he?” Michael laughed again. “Oh, this is rich. Although this does explain why your daughter has been trying so hard lately to put a stop to the exterminations while Lucifer willingly goes along with it. I thought he was just being cruel, playing along with her delusional dreams.” Michael leaned forward, placing his hands on the table and grinning wickedly. “But you’re the cruel one, aren’t you, Lilith?”

Lilith was seething where she stood beside Charlie, her hair whipping behind her in non-existent wind. She was shaking in rage, but it was the slight uptick at the corners of her mother’s eyebrows that gave Charlie pause. She was worried.

“Mom?” She said again, and Lilith froze. “What is he talking about?”

Her mother turned to her and the furrowing of her brows looked far less wrathful now. They looked concerned. She opened and closed her mouth, grasping for a response but no words escaped. Charlie could feel a pit growing in her stomach as the anticipation increased.

“Perhaps it’s time to tell her the truth,” came Azrael’s soft response. It did not put Charlie’s mind at ease, instead it only made the looming dread creep closer.

“Mom!” she barked out, causing her mom to flinch slightly.

A tense silence drew out where Charlie waited expectantly for an answer from her mother.

Michael could be heard letting out an impatient scoff. “Enough of this,” he growled. “If you won’t tell her, then I will.” Charlie turned towards him, her mother grabbing onto her arm and attempting to pull her back as if distance would keep her from whatever truth her mother wanted buried. Charlie wrenched her arm out of her mother’s grasp and leaned across the table, staring straight into Michael’s harsh eyes.

“Heaven wasn’t the one who proposed the extermination plan,” he said, her mother’s shouts of protest from behind her ignored. “Your mother did.”

Charlie gasped. No, no that had to be a lie. Michael was lying. Charlie then looked to Azrael and while their face was mostly blank, she didn’t think she was imagining the sadness and sympathy she saw in their eyes. Charlie turned to the Seraphim to confirm this and saw what she believed was Charlie’s mirrored expression on Emily’s face, shock and horror. It was the averted gaze of Sera that sold her of the truth.

Her mother then grabbed her shoulders and turned her around, the desperate look on her mother’s face further proving the horrifying reality. “Charlie, you have to listen to me! You don’t understand!” Charlie reared back, startled by the fact her mother didn’t even try and lie. “Th-there were things at play at the time that made this the only solution!”

Charlie shook her head and began to struggle in her mother’s grasp, finally shoving her back and away. Her mother looked pained. What right, Charlie thought. What right did she have to feel hurt??

“Y-you,” she gasped out, pointing at her mother accusingly. “You let our people die.”

“No, Charlie, you have to understand-!”

“No, you KILLED them!” she shouted. She could feel horns push through her skull and a tail extend from the base of her spine. “YOU did this!” She felt fire dance between her fingers and sulfuric smoke billowed from her gaping mouth. “Not Heaven! Not Adam! Not any of the exterminators! YOU!”

Charlie’s world had narrowed down to the shameful look her mother was giving her, unaware of anyone else in the room. After all this time, throughout her entire life, her mother had lied to her. Every time she comforted Charlie as she wept over the deaths of their people, her mother lied. Every time Charlie talked about her dreams of the end of the exterminations, her mother lied. Every time her mother spoke of getting revenge on Heaven for the injustice they had subjugated them to, her mother lied.

She couldn’t take it.

So, she ran.

The doors slammed behind her as she fled the room, her mother hot on her heels. “Charlie! Wait! Just let me explain!”

Her mother caught up to her as she reached the front steps outside the embassy, grabbing onto her arm once more. “Don’t touch me!” shouted Charlie, stumbling down the rest of the steps as she wrenched her arm away. “Don’t you ever touch me again!”

Her mother put her hands up as if in surrender. “Charlie, please. You have to know that this is something I never wanted. Never! Not in a million years!”

“And yet you’re the one that proposed the exterminations to Heaven!” she cried, tears springing to her eyes and rolling down her cheeks.

“I had to!” she said urgently. “If I thought there was any other way then I would have done so!”

“Had to? Had to?!” she shouted. “What could have possibly led you to do something like this??”

Her mother shook her head and looked away. “I-I can’t tell you.” When Charlie growled in frustration, Lilith was quick to continue. “But you have to believe me! I swear-!”

“Lies! Lies!” shouted Charlie. “More lies! Have you ever been honest with me once in your life??” Charlie struggled to take in air, feeling as if a huge weight was bearing down on her chest.

“Charlie, please,” said her mother, reaching out towards her.

Charlie screamed, stumbling back and away from her when she felt another hand on her back, steadying her. Charlie whipped her head to her side and came face-to-face with Vox. She had forgotten about him and hadn’t even seen him follow them outside.

“Come with me,” he said quickly.

Charlie’s brows furrowed, not understanding. “Charlie,” said her mother. “Please, let’s just talk about this.”

No, Charlie really didn’t want to talk to her or even be near her. “I can get you out of here,” said Vox, drawing her attention again. He was giving her a sympathetic frown. “Just say the word, and we’ll be gone in a flash.”

“Don’t,” said her mother, shooting her a pleading look. “Listen to me!”

Charlie looked back at Vox, not wanting to listen. He raised his other hand, offering it to her but not grabbing her. She stared at it. “Trust me,” he said softly. The look he gave her was equally soft.

Trust us. Trust us! Trust us with your entertainment! It was the catchphrase and mantra from Vox and his company she heard on repeat all across Hell. Dripping with insincerity and greed.

And yet here he was asking her to trust him. Just him. And despite the many people that warned her against trusting him, trusting any Overlord for that matter, she looked up into his eyes. And in that moment, she knew that there was no doubt left in her mind.

She grabbed his hand, and, in a flash, they dissolved into the power grid and disappeared.

Notes:

In 1924:
Alastor is 34
Grace is 19

In 1925:
Alastor is 35
Grace is 20

Historical facts and general information about this chapter:

The prohibition is going on during this time period and was enforced from 1920 to 1933.

Within the ranking system of the angels in Judaism and Christianity, Seraphim are typically supposed to be higher ranks then the Archangels. Seraphim, Cherubim, and Thrones are listed as the highest order. The middle order is typically listed as Dominions, Virtues, and Powers. And the lowest order is Principalities, Archangels, and Angels. From the vague information we have of the ranks for the Angels within the Hazbin universe, I think Seraphim are still meant to be one of the highest ranks. Through recent media it seems that some stories put Archangels higher and for my story that is also the case.

Michael is an archangel and the warrior of God in Christianity, Judaism, and Islam. He is the chief of the angels and archangels. He’s the great protector and the most powerful of the archangels. In this story, he and Lucifer are meant to be "twins".

Azrael is the canonical Angel of death in Islam. Archangel Azrael helps people when they’re dying and assists newly crossed-over souls adjust to the spiritual realm. Traditionally, Azrael is a "he" but in my story Azrael is gender neutral. I liked the idea that the embodiment of death is neither male nor female. Also, the effect of Azrael’s skin being pretty much see-through I imagined in my head to look like how it is in the Disney movie Coco. When Miguel is in the land of the dead and he’s slowly dying, if you will. His skin starts becoming translucent and you can see his skeleton. That’s what I was going for with Azrael and how they first look.

 

Well I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter despite the very long wait! Again, it might be a while before I get to the next chapter but I'm also very excited about the next chapter so hopefully that means I can get it out sooner rather than later. But finally, I got to introduce Michael and Azrael and I'm so excited! They are both going to be very important characters and I'm so happy I finally got to introduce them. I feel like I'm really getting into the meat and bones of stuff now and the rest of the story I hope will be super exciting. Not that y'all haven't seemed to like what I've written so far but still! Exciting times!

As always, stay tuned for the next chapter!

Chapter 26: A Day of Infamy

Summary:

It's 1941. A day will live on in infamy.

In the present, Vox takes care of Charlie after the devastating revelation about her mother.

Notes:

Hey! Look at me! Getting this out WAY sooner than expecting even with everything going on, and it's a doozy. It's only been two weeks since the last update which is great! Still haven't found a home to move in but have applied to a home (after applying and being denied three others) so fingers crossed! I might lose my mind otherwise...

TW for this chapter: character death, canon typical gore, some brief sexually explicit situations

1941

Xavier looked at his watch discreetly, sighing impatiently as he saw the time. It was getting late, and this was one of the last places he would like to be. Harvey sat across from him, laughing obnoxiously with some other producers and big names in their business, completely absorbed in whatever inane story he was telling.

Harvey had insisted he come out tonight, sighting Xavier needing to meet some producer friends of his. While Xavier doubted Harvey was doing it for any altruistic reasons and rather was a way for Harvey to show off his crown jewel, it didn’t hurt to make an appearance with other producers besides Harvey.

For the past year, Grace and Xavier had been trying to slowly worm their way out of Harvey’s iron clutches. Finding others to work with besides Harvey was their goal and Grace had insisted Xavier should go tonight to meet others. Even if just one of them could find work with someone else, it wouldn’t be hard for the other to follow. They were a packaged deal and everyone in Hollywood knew it.

Jack leaned close to Xavier from where he sat directly next to him. “What’s wrong,” he whispered. “You have somewhere to be, hhm?”

Xavier looked at him out of the corner of his eye and saw Jack giving him a smirk. Xavier huffed and took a sip of his drink. “It’s getting late. I have a wife to get home to.”

Jack scoffed. “It’s barely past ten. And besides, that never stopped you from staying out late with us before.” Yes, and that was part of the problem. He’d allowed Harvey to dictate far too much of his time and actions over the years, even after Olivia died. He was tired of it, and he wanted it to stop. “Besides, Harvey would be rather upset if you left the party early.”

“The party has already gone past its intended time,” said Xavier. “Harvey won’t mind.” He would though, and they both knew it. Xavier wanted not to care, especially since he was trying to leave Harvey, but seeing as he still was working for Harvey, he really didn’t want to jeopardize anything.

“Tell ya what,” said Jack. “If I get us out of here, you come and have a drink with me, and we’ll call it even.”

Xavier frowned as he looked at Jack. “I just said I had a wife to get home to. Why would I want to spend more time out?”

Jack gave him a dimply grin. “Because it’ll just be me.” Meaning, no Harvey. While spending time anywhere without the old man was preferable, Xavier wasn’t sure if he liked the idea of spending time with just Jack. They’d known each other for years now, Jack had even been his best man, but they almost never spent time with just each other. They certainly never went out for drinks alone.

“Come onnnn,” said Jack, grabbing Xavier’s shoulder affectionately. “Think of it as a celebration for our new film coming out.”

The premiere was one week away, and it stared the two of them as the leads. They’d acted in films together, but never both as the leads. In a way they had grown closer while at the same time Xavier had attempted to maintain his distance due to Xavier wanting to distance himself from Harvey. He supposed that cutting ties with Harvey didn’t mean he necessarily had to cut ties with Jack.

After several seconds Xavier gave a small nod. “Fine. But only one drink then I’m headed home.”

Jack gave him a firm pat on the back. “That’a boy! You won’t regret it. Now give me one sec and I’ll convince the old man to cut us loose.”

Jack got up and made his way around the table to lean down next to Harvey. The old man leaned towards the other without even having to look at Jack, lending his ear for Jack to mutter into. Everyone else on the other side of the table didn’t even pay the two of them any mind, engrossed in their own conversations and drinks.

Xavier knew the moment Jack had told Harvey the two of them wanted to leave for Harvey made eye contact with him. Xavier had to forcibly prevent himself from looking away or squirming in discomfort. Jack then made eye contact with him and gave him a smile. It wasn’t until Harvey smiled too that Xavier let out a small sigh of relief. It seemed that Jack had secured their exit.

Jack stood back up and made his way back to Xavier as Harvey said loudly to the rest of the table, “Well it seems a couple of us are deciding to make an early exit.” Everyone quieted and turned to Harvey. “Our lustrous stars are departing us!”

There were several sounds of disappointment. “Come now! It’s much too early for you young men to leave us!”

“Stay a little longer!”

“I’ll buy us another round!”

“Now, now,” said Jack with a chuckle. “If you lot were married to THE Grace Vox, you too couldn’t wait to get home!”

There were roars of laughter, and a couple not so gentlemanly comments that had Xavier seething, but he bit his tongue. They wanted to distance themselves from Harvey and making a scene in front of all these rich and powerful men was not a good idea. That being said, Xavier made note of those that made the less-than-savory comments about his wife.

Xavier gave them his best performative smile as he assured them that he would like nothing more than to stay but he really must be getting home. Jack made his own excuses as the two of them made a quick exit before they could be forced to stay a second longer.

Once outside Jack laughed. “Finally! I was worried there for a second that they’d insist we stay longer.” Jack made his way to the valet who wondered off to grab his car for them. Xavier had come with Harvey earlier, the man had insisted.

“What exactly did you tell Harvey in order to have him let us leave without complaint?”

Jack shrugged. “The same thing I also offer him.” Jack gave him a pointed look and Xavier knew his meaning. Xavier suddenly felt guilty and furrowed his brows.

“You didn’t need to offer that just because I didn’t want to stay longer,” he said softly.

Jack bumped his shoulder against Xavier’s. “Don’t worry about it! It’s not a problem.”

Xavier frowned further. Jack must have noticed for he threw an arm over his shoulder to pull him closer to mutter lowly. “If you feel bad about, we can make it two drinks. Deal?” Jack thrust a hand out to him. Xavier stared at it for a second and thought a drink was the least he could do for him.

“Deal,” he said as they shook.

“Splendid!” The valet arrived with Jack’s car and the two got in.

They didn’t have to drive far before they arrived at their location. Xavier was more than familiar with the area and turned to Jack in surprise. “I didn’t realize you frequented here.”

“I don’t,” Jack said. “But I come on occasion. I presume you do?”

Xavier gave a noncommittal shrug of one shoulder. “I come on occasion,” he lied.

Xavier had never quite known if Jack honestly enjoyed the company of men or he just participated in it due to Harvey. It wasn’t like Xavier had ever been with Jack in that way without Harvey present. But if Jack was familiar with one of the discreet bars that catered to those who preferred the company of the same sex, well then, that was worth examining.

Xavier got out of the car and followed Jack down the street, walking several blocks to avoid suspicion, before entering a familiar alleyway. Neither one of them even had to utter the words about being friends with Dorthy before they were allowed in. Xavier eyed Jack, wondering how truthful he was too about not frequenting often. Then again, they were both rather noticeable faces so all it would take was attending once for anyone working there to know they had attended.

There were a couple patrons that eyeballed them but the more discreet nature of the establishment or perhaps nervousness about who they were prevented any from approaching them. The two made their way to the bar and made quick work of ordering their drinks. When Jack moved to fish out his wallet, Xavier grabbed his wrist and shook his head. “I’ll take care of our two drinks for the night.”

“Ahh come on, Xavier,” Jack said. “I was the who insisted on taking you out for drinks.”

“And you’re the one that saved us from having to stay in Harvey’s company any longer. I insist,” he said.

Jack raised his hands in surrender. They found a small table in the corner and began watching the other patrons as they danced and enjoyed themselves. They lapsed into silence that was filled by the young woman dressed in a mans suit standing on the stage.

“You’re rather obvious, you know,” Jack eventually said without preamble.

Xavier raised an eyebrow as he sipped his drink. “Oh? About?”

“Your distaste of Harvey,” he said making Xavier pause. “You used to be better at hiding it but over the past year not so much.”

Not since Xavier had revealed all to Grace. Xavier took another sip to hide any sort of unease at the conversation. “Well, you never seem to ever be uncomfortable around him. You can’t tell me you actually enjoy his company with everything he does?” he said, attempting to shift the focus.

Jack leaned back in his chair, looking completely unbothered. “He’s not so bad, when you understand how to handle him.” Xavier gave him a look of disgust making Jack laugh. “I don’t mean in that way; I just mean that he’s a rather simple man with simple desires. You give it to him and it’s not so hard to get what you want out of him.” Like a promise of sex in exchange for leaving a party early. Or a promise of sex in exchange for throwing his mother out onto the streets.

Xavier shook his head and looked away in annoyance. “Don’t you ever get tired of it though? Do you not ever think it’s too high of a price?”

“No,” Jack said simply, surprising Xavier and making him turn back. Jack wore a more serious look now. “Why? Is it really too high of a price for you?”

Xavier squirmed, thinking of all the times Harvey had put his hands on him. All the times he had undressed him, had kissed him, had made Xavier go to his knees just like that first time. It made his skin crawl.

“Yes,” he whispered.

Jack’s face morphed into a frown as he stared back at Xavier with an unblinking gaze. It was unnerving. Xavier broke eye contact and looked down at his drink. He was approaching the end of his first drink far quicker than he had expected.

Jack finally sighed. “You know that we’ll never get a better deal than with him,” he said. “You. Me. Grace.” Xavier’s head whipped up to look at Jack. “He’s got his claws in us, and do you really think he’s ever going to let us go now that he has us? He may allow us to work with other producers but he’s never going to completely let us go.” Jack leaned forwards, his elbows coming to rest on the table. “All he has to do is tell everyone to drop us and that’ll be it. We’ll be done in this business. And denying him – well – that’ll be one sure fire way of making him do that.”

Xavier shook his head, his heart pounding against his chest. “What does Grace have to do with this?”

Jack gave him a knowing look. “Harvey told me that Grace has been bothering him quite frequently about you. Asking some rather pointed questions.” Jack leaned even closer. “You told her about Harvey, didn’t you?”

Xavier swallowed thickly and grasped his glass tighter to prevent his hands from shaking. “She grew suspicious. I had to! I had no choice.”

Jack sighed and gave him a sympathetic look. “Well tell her to stop. All she’s doing is stirring up trouble. Harvey isn’t pleased with how she’s been treating him. She hides her distaste even less than you and it’s grating on his nerves.”

“What is she even saying?" asked Xavier. On some level, he was aware of the fact Grace wouldn’t NOT approach Harvey, but he hoped she wasn’t being stupid and was being at least somewhat careful about what she was saying.

Jack shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve heard everything second hand, but it sounds like she’s generally warning Harvey away from you.”

Xavier groaned. They were already trying to do everything they could to get away from them, they didn’t need to threaten him. “Grace,” he said in exasperation.

“Hey, hey, it’s not that bad, honestly,” said Jack reassuringly. “She’s just irritating Harvey more than usual. But she needs to stop before he gets even more pissed off. It’ll ruin both of your careers.”

Xavier ran a hand through his hair. “You said that we didn’t have any hope of having careers without him.”

Jack gave a humorless laugh. “Of course. But you know this. I mean come on, you know nothing happens in this town without his ok. We’re his prized possessions, Xavier! He’s not letting any of us go.”

Xavier’s head fell into his hands, feeling overwhelmed by the truth that he knew but had been trying to convince himself wasn’t true. Grace had been trying to convince him that they could walk away but they had no hope, did they?

He heard Jack get up and scoot his chair closer. Jack rested his arm gently over his shoulders, squeezing his upper arm. “Hey. It’s alright. Really, Xavier, Harvey isn’t that bad. You’ve just gotta learn how to deal with him.” He pulled Xavier close. “You’re not in this alone.”

Xavier lifted his head then, looking up into Jack’s eyes. He’d never realized that his brown eyes seemed to have speckles of gold in it. They were quite nice. Xavier then looked down at his lips and he felt his face flush. He turned away, clearing his throat and grabbing his drink to finish it off.

“Looks like we could do with another round,” said Jack, mercifully not calling out Xavier’s discomfort. He didn’t even know why he was uncomfortable. It’s not like he hadn’t kissed or seen Jack naked several times.

Jack got up then, affording Xavier time to collect himself. It wasn’t until Jack returned with two new drinks that Xavier realized he was supposed to pay for them. “Wait! I was supposed to get those.”

Jack waved him off once he handed the drink to Xavier. “You can get the next round.”

Xavier opened his mouth to protest, stating he had agreed to only two but then Jack pulled him to his feet. “Come on. While we’re drinking let’s dance!”

Xavier allowed himself to be pulled into dancing with the other man, the two holding onto their drinks awkwardly even as they danced. When Xavier spilled a couple of drops onto Jack, the other man laughed, putting Xavier more at ease. Jack stuck his finger into his own drink and flicked a couple of drops onto Xaviers face, making him laugh in turn.

It was easy to lose himself in the music and alcohol after that. Xavier got them another round, and the two started to mix with the others, pulling men and women alike into dances. It was clear that as the night wore on, more and more people began to consume more alcohol, feeling loose, just like Xavier was.

Xavier didn’t even protest when Jack brought Xavier a fourth drink. And then a fifth. Xavier leaned against Jack as they danced, feeling a pleasant buzz. He gave a goofy grin to Jack who twirled him around and practically had to hold Xavier up to keep him from stumbling, even as he tripped over his feet. “Whoops, sorry,” he said. “I think I may have had a little too much.”

“Nonsense,” said Jack. “You’re just having a good time.”

That he was. It felt nice to be here, not having to worry about Harvey or Grace. Not having to think about having unwanted hands on him or disappointing his wife. The hands on him now, one in his hand and the other low on his back, felt nice. They were firm yet soft. Pleasantly warm. Strong.

Xavier leaned his weight further onto Jack, making him chuckle. Xavier let himself be led across the dance floor and rested his head onto Jack’s shoulder. This was nice but he really should be getting home. “Grace will be wondering where I’m at,” he mumbled. “I should call it a night.”

“Come on,” said Jack who lowered his head to whisper into his ear. “Just a little longer.”

Xavier shivered as Jack’s breath tickled his ear. Did it hurt to stay just a little longer? “Alright,” he whispered back.

And then Jack stuck his fingers into Xavier’s hair, pulling slightly to raise his head. Xavier swallowed a low groan at the feeling and lifted his head to be met with familiar lips. And then he melted into them, not caring who saw. No one cared here. They were safe from scrutiny, safe from Harvey. And Xavier wanted to explore more.

He whined when Jack broke away but then he grabbed Xavier’s hand and began to lead him off the dance floor and into the back where Jack found a small broom closet and shoved Xavier inside. Xavier gasped when he was shoved up against the wall, Jack pinning him there with one leg between Xavier’s. He felt breathless and despite the alcohol, he could feel blood rushing south.

“God, you’re so gorgeous. You know that right?” said Jack, sounding equally breathless.

Xavier didn’t know how to respond so instead he just pulled Jack close and the two began to kiss once more. This time it felt bruising and soon Jack’s tongue pushed its way into Xavier’s mouth, making him groan.

Jack’s knee pushed up, grinding against Xavier. He pulled back, gasping for breath and Jack smiled. “Yeah. You know.”

Jack began to kiss at his neck, unbuttoning the first couple buttons of his shirt, gaining him more access. All the while, he kept pushing his thigh up into Xavier’s groin who pushed forwards and into Jacks thigh, reveling in the intoxicating pressure.

Fingers began fumbling at Xavier’s pants, unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants, allowing Jack’s hand to disappear into his pants and underwear. He gasped again when Jack wrapped his strong fingers around his cock.

“That’s it. That’s it,” said Jack in a raspy voice. "You sound so good for me. I love the noises you make. I bet I can make you even scream my name.”

That gave some clarity to Xavier who shook his head. He gasped out, “Not here.”

“Oh?” Jack said as his hand stroked him up and down. Xavier whined. “Somewhere else?”

Xavier’s mind was trying to keep focus and think of where, but the way Jack’s thumb brushed over his tip made all coherent thought escape him. “Y-yes,” he stuttered. “H-house.”

Jack chuckled. “I’m going to assume you mean mine,” he said, squeezing Xavier.

Xavier gasped and nodded quickly. “Y-yes, please!” He then bit down on his lip to keep quiet, muffling any further sounds.

He looked at Jack through half-lidded eyes, who gave him a mischievous smile. “Because I want to hear you unguarded and without feeling like you have to keep quiet, I’ll be merciful.” He held to his promise and released him, withdrawing his hand. Xavier leaned his head against the wall to catch his breath as Jack refastened Xavier’s belt and set him right. He then grabbed Xavier’s hand once more and winked. “Follow me.” And Xavier was left helpless to obey once more.

The cold December air made him gasp once outside, like he had been plunged into the ocean. It was a shock but felt nice against his flushed face. He allowed Jack to continue to hurriedly lead him, their hands unclasping only once they exited the alleyway. They both piled into the car and Jack pulled the car quickly onto the mostly empty roadway. “Yyyou sure you’re good to drive?” slurred Xavier.

Jack chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get us home safely.”

And safely home, they made it. Xavier only tripped on his feet slightly before Jack grabbed him and the two made their way inside together. Distantly, Xavier noted that Jack didn’t seem to be having the same trouble walking as he was.

Once inside, Jack made quick work of Xavier’s clothes, his jacket, tie, and shirt being discarded as they kissed and stumbled through the house, unable to keep their hands off each other. Shoes and his socks were next, accompanied by his pants and underpants.

Xavier’s back hit the mattress of Jack’s bedroom as Jack climbed on, straddling Xavier’s thighs. Jack still wore his own pants, but his jacket and shoes were gone, and his shirt was unbuttoned revealing his firm and muscular chest. Xavier couldn’t help but run his hands up and down through Jack’s chest hair.

“Just sit back,” Jack said smiling. “I know exactly how to take care of you.”

Jack bent over and took Xavier into his mouth. “Jack!” he screamed. Jack held true to his word and made Xavier release all sorts of noises, including screaming Jacks name, over and over.

He lost track of time, not knowing how long they went for. Eventually, his head lay heavy on a plush pillow, exhaustion and alcohol taking over and plunging him slowly into unconsciousness. He felt fingers stroking his hair, scratching at his scalp soothingly. Somewhere between wakefulness and unconsciousness he heard a voice utter to him softly. “That’s it. Just sleep.”

Xavier then gasped awake, sitting up in bed, groaning at the pounding in his head. Once the pounding subsided to a dull throb, he squinted his eyes open. He looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings, resting on Jack who lay nude next to him, sleeping on his stomach with a sheet pulled up just below his lower back. Xavier squinted further when he looked at the drawn drapes with the smallest trace of light peak out.

He pushed his legs over the edge of the bed, standing still for a second when the world swayed, before taking unsteady steps towards the window. He pulled the drapes back slightly to see that sunrise had just barely come to pass.

Fuck. It was morning. Grace was going to be furious.

Of course she would, jumping to the worst conclusion that Xavier had found his way back to Harvey’s house instead. While she will surely be glad to know that wasn’t the case, she still wouldn’t be thrilled to know the truth. Grace disliked most anyone who was so close to Harvey and Jack was closer than most.

He looked around the room for his clothes but found only his underwear which he quickly pulled on. He then spotted a telephone on the nightstand, grabbing it and dragging the cord with him as he stepped into the connecting bathroom, quietly shutting the door and ringing for a taxi.

Twenty minutes, they said. That would give him more than enough time to locate the rest of his clothes and make a discreet exit. His shoes, shirt and jacket were easy enough to find but for the life of him he couldn’t find his pants anywhere. They SHOULD have been with his underwear, but he didn’t remember seeing them.

He went back to Jack’s bedroom, tiptoeing to not wake the other man. He kneeled down to see if they had somehow made their way under the bed but still, no pants. He looked at a small clock on Jack’s nightstand and saw he was quickly running out of time. Shit!

Xaiver made his way to Jack’s closet and found the first pare of pants he could, quickly pulling them on. They were a little baggy on him, but they would do. He would return them later, but he didn’t want to have to wait around longer and worry Grace any further. She was always so worried for him nowadays. He couldn’t bear putting her through anymore than he already had.

He managed to make it outside without waking Jack and just in time for the taxi to arrive. The driver did a double take when he saw who his passenger was but made no comment when Xavier gave over his address.

Xaiver leaned his head back, closing his eyes in exhaustion as he rode out the drive to his home on the other side of Beverly Hills.

Once home, he handed over the generous number of bills from his wallet that was thankfully in his inside jacket pocket. He ignored the profuse thanks for the tip and comments about being a fan. He ran a hand down his face wearily, preparing himself for a worried reprimand before being subjected to a verbal thrashing for worrying Grace needlessly.

He’d take it all gladly though, basking in the obvious love and affection the lecture stemmed from. She’d rant and rant, and Xavier would apologize profusely, thoroughly cowed. And once she was done, she’d cook them the best breakfast, maybe even some of those beignets that he loved so much. Later, she’d insist on staying close throughout the day, the two of them sitting together, leaning on the other as they sat and read or watched television together. Neither really paying attention to either, both just basking in the others closeness and company. He knew that it was Grace’s way of reassuring herself that he was alright and he never complained. He needed the reassurance too.

Xavier heard the taxi pull away as he walked up the driveway. He shoved his hand into his pants, pausing and internally cursing when he realized his house keys were in his elusive pants. He guessed he’d have to ring the doorbell and wake up Grace, that is IF she had managed to fall asleep at all.

When he lifted his head as he approached the front door he paused again, this time in horror, when he realized he wouldn’t need to wake Grace to let him in.
The door was wide open.

And there was damage to it and the doorframe from where it had been forced open.

“GRACE!” He shouted as he rushed inside, uncaring of his own safety. He was met with several broken items. There were picture frames knocked from the walls and furniture upturned. “GRACEEE!” he screamed, shooting frantic eyes around the disturbed home.

The further he went, he was met with the same scene. Kitchen, dining room, living room. But still no Grace.

He rushed up the stairs. At the top, his heart skipped a beat when he saw blood on the carpet. No, no, no, no, NO!!!

Xaiver made a beeline for the blood, following the trail that he already knew where it would lead. There, at the end of the hallway, was Grace’s bedroom, with a bloody smeared handprint on the door.

An eternity seemed to pass as he ran to the room. His legs couldn’t move fast enough and yet…Xavier didn’t want to get to the room any faster, fearing what he already knew what he was going to find.

He shoved the ajar door open and froze.

It was so much worse than he could have ever expected.

Grace lay on her bed diagonally, her left arm and head hanging off the end of the bed. There was blood on her arms, on her legs, covering her nightgown and bed. Leaking from various wounds. Splattered on the walls, and floor. Splattered on the photo of the two of them from their wedding. And drenching her neck where her throat had been slit.

Staring back at Xavier were her wide lifeless eyes.

Xavier wailed as he screamed her name over and over, pulling her into his arms, now coating himself and his hands in her blood. Nothing was safe from the stains. Nothing.

When the police arrived, he was still screaming. He had to be forcibly removed from her. He didn’t even know how they had gotten there and would later come to find out some neighbors out for a morning walk had heard his agonizing screams. They said it sounded like the sounds of a fight.

But there was no fight. All the fight had long since passed. Alone. And without Xavier there by her side.

The red on his hands would surely stain for the rest of his life.
___________________________________________________________________
Vox zapped out of the power grid, coming to a graceful stop in an alleyway, far out of the way of any prying eyes. His companion, however, stumbled on her feet and was only prevented from faceplanting due to Vox’s hand that still had ahold of her.

Charlie gasped and took several quick steps towards the brick wall, thrusting her arm out to support herself, before bending over and hacking. Vox cringed in sympathy and placed his hand on her back. “Sorry about that. I’ve been told that particular brand of travel doesn’t exactly feel pleasant for others, especially when they aren’t warned beforehand.”

Charlie continued to gag for several more seconds but thankfully she managed to keep everything down. The shaking though began. Vox frowned and took a step closer. “Charlie?” There was no response besides the sounds of her breath quickening.

Vox bent over slightly in order to get a look at her face. Charlie was staring wide eyed at the dirty ground, but Vox doubted she was truly seeing any of it. Her mouth was open, and she was taking in shaky, uneven breaths. Concern filled Vox who worried that she was fast approaching a panic attack, if she wasn’t already in the midst of one.

Her phone rang and she fished it out of her pocket, her eyes widening in panic once she saw it was her mother calling. Vox quickly grabbed it from her and turned it off before she could make a decision to answer or not.

“Hey, hey,” he said softly, trying to pull her attention towards him. “Come on, Charlie, look at me.” Still no response.

Vox placed his free hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her to standing up straight, forcing Charlie’s eyes to meet his. He then grabbed one of her shaking hands and placed it on his chest, keeping his hand over the top of it. “I need you to breath with me, ok?” Vox took a slow deep breath, held it, and then slowly released it. “Try and match my breathing. In for five seconds. One, two, three, four, five. Hold it. Out for five seconds. One, two, three, four, five.”

Vox repeated this a couple of times, but Charlie’s breathing was still erratic despite how Vox could see she was trying to follow him. The fact she wasn’t able to get ahold of her breathing seemed to only make it worse and she was beginning to panic more. “Hey, hey, it’s going to be ok. You’re doing fine. I’m right here with you, you’re not alone. Try and focus on the fabric of my vest.” Vox moved her fingers over the rough material. Her eyes flicked to his chest as she watched her fingers run across his chest before he felt her hand begin to move on its own. “That’s it. You’re doing great. Now try and breath with me again.”

And he repeated the breathing as he counted out loud, waiting for Charlie’s breaths to mirror his own. “That’s it. That’s it. Well done. You’re doing so good, Charlie.”

Charlie choked on a small cry as she continued to force herself to breathe with him, sucking deep breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth. Tears were staining her cheeks that Vox resolutely ignored. “Now as you keep breathing, I want you to identify three things you can see. Can you do that for me?” Charlie gave him a stilted nod.

Vox waited patiently as she took a couple more deep breaths before she said in a wobbly voice, “I-I can see you.”

“Very good. Now what else?”

Her eyes began to rove over the alleyway. “Uhm, I see a-a dumpster.”

Vox nodded as he rubbed his fingers over the back of her hand that was clutching his vest. “Nicely done. What else?”

Charlie swallowed thickly. “An empty b-beer can.”

“Great. You did great,” he praised. “Now I want you to identify three things you hear.”

Charlie sniffled as her breathing began to slow and even out. “I can hear your voice.”

Vox gave a small smile. “Rather obsessed with me, I see?” he said, in an attempt at humor. “Well done. What else?”

Charlie rubbed her free hand against her nose and shuddered. “Uhm, c-cars on the road. And some distant music, I think.”

Vox paused. Sure enough, there were the sounds of someone playing music far away. Some rap song. “That’s it. Now I want you to move three parts of your body.”

Charlie paused, then flexed her hand on his chest, opening and closing it where she had ahold of his vest. “Great,” he said. “Now another body part.”

Charlie raised her free arm and rotated it around in its socket, deliberately making a wide circle over her head and down by her side. Vox noticed that her breathing had returned to normal and he smiled. “Good. Now one more.”

Charlie then moved her head side-to-side and then rotated it in a slow circle. Vox could hear a small crack in her neck and heard her sigh. “Well done. I’m proud of you, Charlie.”

She then looked up at him and blushed, something that Vox wasn’t sure she could do with the bright red circles that painted her cheeks. “Thanks,” she said, practically bashfully. “I don’t know what happened there.” She scrubbed at her cheeks, wiping away the tear tracks.

Vox shrugged. “You had a panic attack. Happens to the best of us but you got through it.”

Charlie’s brows scrunched up. “Has it happened to you?”

Vox stiffened at the question, uncomfortable and ready to lie. But the vulnerable and sincere look on Charlie’s face, and the fact she had just gone through what very well might have been her first panic attack, made him pause. Right now, he thought that Charlie needed to feel like she wasn’t alone and some honesty from him would go a long way.

He sighed and then gave a small nod. “Yeah. On occasion.”

If anything, the response seemed to upset Charlie more. She frowned and her expression turned sad. He could practically feel her about to ask him another question, so he quickly moved to put his arm around her shoulder and pull her close. “But never mind that. You feeling better now?”

Charlie allowed herself to be pulled into the half-hug, leaning into his chest. She looked down at the ground and brought her arms up to wrap around her middle. She shrugged. “I guess. I mean, I feel like I’m not going to die from not being able to breath at least.”

Vox suppressed a wince. He understood the feeling. He looked down at her melancholic expression with her arms wrapped around herself. She didn’t look anything like her normally cheery and optimistic self. “I just-” she paused, her brows drawing together and pulling her face into a pinched expression. “I don’t understand it. I-I can’t believe that my own mother, the Queen of Hell, could do something so cruel.” She shook her head, eyes glinting once more. “How could she do something like that?” The last part was a whisper, more uttered to herself than him.

He could feel her stiffen under his arm with small, miniscule shakes starting. Shit. She was starting to spiral again. He needed to distract her. Vox then looked at his surroundings, looking for a solution, and realized exactly where he was. With some trepidation he realized he knew what to do.

“You know what you need?” Vox said loudly, making Charlie jump. He pulled her closer, squeezing her shoulder as she looked up at him. “A drink. And a nice meal in a quiet place, away from prying eyes.” He gave her a wide smile. “And I know just the place. Come on, follow me!”

He let go of her and began to stride down the alleyway with purposeful steps, leaving her to follow. He heard her quick steps move to catch up with him after a couple of seconds. Once they exited the alleyway it was to find a mostly abandoned street.

Charlie looked around with a small frown. “Uhm, where are we going exactly? And where are we anyways?”

“We’re on the outskirts of my district. A less popular part of it. There aren’t as many nightclubs and strip clubs and all the other flashy parts typically associated with my district here.” They passed a couple of Demons who did a double take when they saw the Overlord and Royal pass them by. One of them tried to lift their phone to take a photo but the phone suddenly began smoking after a spark shot from it. The Demons stared down in surprise, causing Vox to smirk. “As to where we’re going, you’ll see.”

Charlie walked beside him in silence as they walked, barely registering her surroundings and clearly lost in thought. Thankfully she didn’t have much time to let her spiraling thoughts fully consume her for they arrived at their destination after walking only a couple of blocks.

“Here we are!” said Vox, indicating towards a small diner named “Rick’s Diner”. Vox watched as Charlie looked it over in confusion. He knew she had to be surprised at the destination he had taken her too. The diner wasn’t anything fancy or flashy. It looked like it was straight out of the fifties or sixties. It wasn’t exactly dirty, but it looked like it could do to have some work done on the outside.

Charlie looked towards him with a skeptical look. He gave her a small smile in the hopes to both reassure her and perhaps himself. “Come on. Let me introduce you to the owners.” Hopefully they wouldn’t be too upset.

Vox pushed the door open, setting off the bell that hung above. He held the door open for Charlie who began examining the fifties and sixties décor. There were certain touches to the establishment that fit in with the seventies and eighties but nothing more modern than that. A couple of tables held patrons but most of the place was empty. “I’ll be there in just a sec’! Sit whereeva!” came a shout from the kitchen.

Charlie moved to sit at a booth, but Vox shook his head and indicated she should follow him towards the raised seats at the counter. Instead of taking a seat he stood by the end of the counter, close to the doors leading to the kitchen, and waited. He could hear some muffled conversation in the back and couldn’t help but smile at the familiar voices. It had been a while, and he felt a pang of guilt at letting the time between their meetings lapse for so long.

Vox didn’t have to wait too long before a Demoness exited the kitchen and paused in surprise once she spotted him. She was elderly, appearing to have died somewhere in her late sixties or earlier seventies. She had cow-like features with her longer face, floppy ears, and hooves for feet. She stared wide-eyed at Vox for several seconds.

He gave her a sheepish smile and then gave her a lame wave. “Hey, Gloria. Long time no see.”

That seemed to break the spell for the woman then rushed towards him and brought him into a bruising hug, lifting him off his feet. He let out a gasp as his breath was knocked from him. “Oh Xavier! I can’t believe you’re here!” She gave him a big sloppy kiss on his cheek, smearing his screen and making him wince. “How longs it been? Seven, eight years?”

“A little under eight,” he wheezed.

Gloria then scowled suddenly, dropping him to his feet. He stumbled slightly before she then shoved a finger into his chest. “Eight years! We ain’t seen hide nor tail of ya for eight years and then you pop in like this? Expecting everything to be right as rain? Rick was mighty worried after that fight of yours over seven years back, especially when he didn’ hear a word from ya afterwards. And there ya were, up in that towa of yours, ignoring all his attempts to reach out and make sure ya were fine. Not a single peep out of you!”

Vox rubbed the back of his neck in shame. He knew that this was the response he was going to get after all this time, which is why he had been making it worse and prolonging this reunion as long as possible.

“I know, I know. It’s been a while. I’m sorry about that,” he said awkwardly. “I made sure this placed stayed open though, even when you guys didn’t meet the rent. I hoped it would let you guys at least know I still cared for you even if I couldn’t face either of you.”

Gloria’s fiery ire softened slightly, her shoulders drooping. “Oh, we weren’t sendin’ you the full rent on purpose. Thought it would force you to come down here and see us, but it never worked.” She shot him an annoyed look. “That not why you’re here now, is it? To collect on the full rent? Because ya can get out of here with that greedy nonsense! We don’ need your charity!”

It didn’t matter that the diner didn’t seem to be doing as well as it should, or that there were only a measly five other customers in the establishment, two of which only had coffees in front of them, and a third seemed to just be using a booth as a place to sleep. Vox doubted that Gloria would appreciate him pointing out that ever since she and Rick had arrived in Hell, they had always been relying on his charity.

“No, no,” Vox reassured. “I’m not here to collect on rent. As far as I’m concerned you guys don’t owe me anything.” Gloria sniffed, clearly indicated she thought the same. “I’m just here for a burger. Haven’t had Ricks cooking in quite some time. Thought it was about time. And uh-” Vox looked to his side at Charlie who had been standing back, watching the unexpected exchange with wide eyes. “I brought another guest.”

Gloria seemed to only just now realize Vox wasn’t alone. Once her eyes landed on Charlie they widened almost comically. “I-is that the Princess??”

Vox nodded. “Yeah. She’s,” he paused. “Well, she’s a friend.” Charlie’s head wiped towards him at his choice of word. She stared at him for several seconds before beaming.

Gloria blinked at him in surprise. “Friend, huh? Well, you’ve certainly been doing well for yourself of recent years. In with the Royal family. I’m sure that’s been quite beneficial to you and your company.”

Vox had to keep from flinching at the accusing tone. While it wasn’t an unfair assessment of his character, it still hurt coming from an old friend.

Surprisingly, or perhaps not, Charlie stepped up to his defense. “No, it’s not like that. He’s not looking for any sort of political favor from me and my family. If anything, I’m the one that’s been repeatedly asking for favors from him.” She smiled at him. “He’s been a huge help and a good friend.”

Vox had to keep from flinching for an entirely different reason. Charlie spoke far too highly of him. Truly, he hadn’t done much for her. Sure, he’d been helping Charlie with Heaven, but it wasn’t an altruistic move. He stood to gain a fair amount from any sort of good relations with Heaven too. And any time Charlie had tried to connect with him he had just pushed her away.

Gloria gave him an assessing look. She stared at him for an uncomfortably long time and tried not to fidget but couldn’t help from picking at the cuffs of his jacket. Gloria squinted at him, and he wondered what she saw because not a moment later she then relaxed completely and gave him a sympathetic look. “That he is,” she said softly. “When he’s not gettin’ lost up in that big brain of his.” Gloria then turned to Charlie and gave her a smile. “Well welcome, Princess! We’re more than thrilled to have you dine with us!”

Charlie smiled. “I’m happy to be here.”

Gloria looked at Vox. “I’m assumin’ you want your usual table?”

“If it’s available,” he said hesitantly.

Gloria then gave him the first real smile since he had walked in, one of her warm ones that made you feel cared for. “It’s always available for you. No matter how much time passes.”
Vox’s heart hurt.

Gloria then pushed the kitchen door open and indicated for Vox and Charlie to follow. The door swished close behind them as Gloria shouted out, “Rick, darling, we have some guests!”

“Why are you tellin’ me, woman? It’s YOUR job to greet them, not mine!” A booming voice came from the further depths of the kitchen.

“And greet them I have, you old goat!” Gloria shouted back. “Now it’s your turn to come greet them!”

The booming voice started getting closer as he shouted, “Now why in the world would I need to greet any of our guests? It’s not enough for me to do my job, I gotta do yours now too? I know my name is above the door, but this is just as much your business as it is-”

And then he cut off once he came around the corner and spotted Vox. The shame he felt when he first saw Gloria wasn’t anything compared to when he saw his old friend for the first time in nearly eight years.

Rick looked just the same as he had the last time Vox saw him. Two horns protruded from his head with thick white fur surrounding his body, extending into a longer beard on his chin. He was broad shouldered and stood about half a head over Vox. To this day, his looming presence was jarring to Vox compared to the gangly string bean he had been when Vox first met him in life.

“Hey there, Ricky,” Vox said with a weary smile. “It’s been a while.”

“Ace,” came the whispered reply.

Vox was prepared for the crushing hug and being lifted from his feet that time. He was pulled against the broad chest, white fur tickling his face. The hug was uncomfortable, yet Vox made no complaint. The tight grip only indicated just how much Rick needed this, and if Vox was being honest, he needed it too.

Gloria and Charlie remained silent as the two men held on to each other for several seconds. Rick eventually put Vox back down but didn’t let go of his shoulders. Vox felt guilty when he saw some moisture in Rick’s eyes and tried to banish the feeling of stinging in his own eyes. Why had he gone so long without seeing Rick and Gloria? Why had he hidden away in his tower, isolating himself for the past eight years?

He'd been alone for so many years, wallowing in his own self-pity over the Hell he had crafted for himself. He’d kept quiet about his predicament, feeling shame over what he had done to wind up here. Any friends he had made in Hell had either abandoned him or pushed him away in some way and he had turned to the only soul he had left that had turned against him as well when he put a leash on Vox.

When Rick and Gloria had arrived in Hell, it was the first ray of sunshine he had had in years and yet he had held them at arm’s length, never able to let them in fully after everything he had been through, both in life and in Hell. The things they didn’t know, even to this day, and yet they always accepted him, despite what others said about him. It was a sort of loyalty that could only be bred through living through one of the most traumatic experiences of his life with Rick.

“I-I’m so sorry it’s been so long,” Vox said, internally cursing at his unsteady voice and the burning behind his eyes. “It was all j-x-just too much after my fight eight years back a-and-”

“Ace,” said Rick, cutting him off. He shook his head and squeezed Vox’s shoulders reassuringly. “It’s ok.”

Fuck. A traitorous tear escaped then. Why was Rick always so understanding? He should have raged at Vox the way Gloria had. Or raged at him the way Alastor has so many times over the years. Maybe even raged at him like Valentino. But he hadn’t. Fucking bastard.

It was like Rick could read his thoughts for he just patted Vox on the back, giving him a moment to collect himself. “Looks like you could use something to eat and drink.”

Vox cleared his throat and nodded, looking towards Charlie who was staring at him with a concerned expression. “We both could.”

Rick smiled at Charlie, giving her one of his typical beaming smiles. “Aww! Is that the Princess of Hell I see? Ain’t this a surprise! Gloria, looky here, we got a Royal in our diner!”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Gloria said with a roll of her eyes. “I’m not the one with the going vision.”

“My vision is just fine,” he said with a wave of his hands. “And I can see that you’re a right beauty, Princess.” He bowed down dramatically, taking Charlie’s hand and planting a kiss on the back of her hand.

Charlie chuckled nervously. “Uh, thank you. But you really don’t have to do all that. You can just call me Charlie.”

“First name basis already!” said Rick. “Ain’t that a treat! Look Gloria, we’re on a first name basis with the Princess of Hell!”

“Oh, stop it you,” said Gloria, scowling and hitting him with a towel. “You’re making the poor thing nervous. Why don’t you go and grill up some burgers for these two. They look famished! Granted Xavier has always been skin and bone. No matter how much food we put in him, he never can seem to gain any weight!”

Yes well, Gloria has only ever known him while he’s been going through the worst parts of his life. He’s never had much of an appetite while stressed.

Gloria led Vox and Charlie to a small table in the back of the kitchen. There were several papers strung out across it, bills it appeared to be. From what he could see before Gloria quickly collected everything, it didn’t paint a pretty picture for her and Rick. “There ya go. The best table for the two of ya!”

The bell from the front went off, signaling either another customer or one of the few they had had left. “You two get yourselves settled; I’ll bring ya two some drinks in a moment while Rick whips ya up some nice greasy burgers. What’s ya poison?”

“I’ll have some whiskey,” said Vox.

“We ain’t got any of ya fancy shit,” she said with a look.

Vox rolled his eyes. “I’m fine drinking the cheap stuff too. You know this.”

“Just checkin’ ya ain’t turned TOO snooty now that your brushing elbows with royalty and all. No offense,” Gloria added quickly. Charlie just gave an awkward smile. “No how ‘bout you doll?”

“Uhhhhh…” Charlie looked between the two of them. “I don’t drink all that much, really.”

Vox leaned forward on the table towards her. “Just have one with me. You could use it after the day we’ve had.”

Charlie frowned at the reminder. She shrugged. “I just don’t know if using alcohol is the best way to cope with…things.”

What an incredibly healthy way to deal with stress and trauma. And yet, looking at Charlie’s tense shoulders and the way she was practically hunched in on herself spoke to the need for her to get out of her head and relax. “Hey,” he said softly. “I’m not asking you to become an alcoholic or anything. But cutting loose occasionally, isn’t bad. Have just one drink with me. That’s all I’m asking.”

Charlie looked at him wearily before finally giving a firm nod.

“Perfect!” cried Gloria. “I’ll just bring ya the bottle.”

Vox shook his head in exasperation as she walked away. This was Hell after all. Only having one drink would be rather ambitious.

Once alone, the two lapsed into silence. There was a nervous sort of energy that surrounded the air. Vox watched as Charlie’s leg bounced up and down and he wondered if her melancholy from the reveal of her mother or Charlie’s curiosity over being brought to this place would win out first. Once Charlie started looking around the kitchen curiously, he knew what had won.

“Soooo,” she began slowly. “Gloria and Rick are friends of yours?”

Vox snorted. “What was your first clue?”

Charlie blushed at the obvious answer to her question. She coughed. “I just mean, you seem to be pretty close with them. And have known them for a long time.”

Vox nodded. “Bit of an understatement. They’re some of my oldest friends.”

“Oh?” Charlie said curiously. “Have you known them since you first arrived in Hell?”

No, that honor lay with only one soul. “Longer,” he said instead.

Charlie’s eyes widened. “You knew them while you were alive?”

Vox hummed. “I’ve known Rick since he was just a kid. An eager little spitfire of a nineteen-year-old, too stupid and too reckless for his own good.” Went and signed himself up for the war, thinking he was going to be some sort of hero to his country. Then again, Vox was just as stupid and reckless as he had been, if not more. “Met Gloria some years later when Rick introduced me to her as his sweetheart. The two were sickeningly in love. Still are, after all these years. Don’t let the bickering fool you.”

“Wow,” said Charlie in wonder. “It’s always so incredible seeing Sinners still be friends with those they knew in life. Doesn’t happen often but when it does, that’s when you know what a good friendship it is.”

Vox could understand Charlie’s sentiment but there was a reason why it didn’t happen often. Far too often once people arrive in Hell, their true colors are shown. So often people hide behind a mask in life, keeping their darker deeds and self a secret. In Hell though, all pretense is lost. Very few friendships last when faced with the other person’s true colors.

The only reason why Vox thought his friendship with Rick and Gloria had tested the sands of time was because in death, he had still continued to hide so much from them. If they knew the truth about Valentino…

“How did you meet Rick?”

Vox swallowed thickly, wishing that Gloria would hurry back with that drink. How he had first met Rick, those first couple of years, wasn’t something he enjoyed talking about or thinking about. Perhaps that was another reason why he always held Rick at arm’s length. How they ended up becoming friends was too painful to remember.

“Sorry,” said Charlie quickly, having noticed his reluctance. “I shouldn’t have asked. I know it’s generally bad form to ask Sinners about their time alive.”

She was genuine in her apology. Just like she always was. Maybe that combined with everything in the alleyway earlier is what made him decide to actually answer. “We fought together during World War II. We were the only two survivors from our crew.”

Charlie’s face fell. “Oh. Oh, I’m so sorry! I REALLY shouldn’t have asked.”

“You’re fine,” he said, waving her off. “You didn’t know.” He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “It’s just generally not pleasant memories.”

“Of course,” Charlie said softly.

“We managed to stay friends after the war, though, despite living in two very different parts of the country. I helped pay for their wedding and loaned them some money to get their diner back on Earth started. Looked very similar to this place. Had the same unoriginal name and everything.” Vox smiled to himself at the reminder of the more pleasant memories.

“So, you guys were friends all throughout your lives?” asked Charlie, her hesitancy at asking about his life seemingly gone.

Vox nodded. “Sure, right up to when I died about a decade after the end of the war.” Vox swallowed thickly as his bright red scar at his neck sent a phantom pain through his body. “We reconnected back in the nineties when the two of them wound up here.”

“They came here together?” asked Charlie with a small frown. Vox knew what she was really asking.

“Their old diner burned down with them and all of their customers in it,” he said, answering her unasked question.

Charlie gasped. “That’s terrible.”

Vox shrugged. “No more terrible than anyone’s death. At least they were able to arrive together. Helped with any sort of fear and confusion when showing up here. They did leave two children and quite a few grandchildren behind which I know was the real thing they were upset about.” Speaking from experience, Vox knows how hard it can be to be the one left behind and alive.

“Still,” said Charlie, trailing off. Then, “Any of their children or grandchildren shown up here?”

“No,” he said. “At least, not yet.” He shrugged. “Given their ages, they all very well might still be living. But if any of them have died then they either are wondering around down here without knowing where Rick and Gloria are, or they went up to Heaven.”

Charlie frowned. “Wouldn’t they have found each other if any of them came to Hell?”

Vox gave a humorless laugh. “Hell doesn’t exactly have a census to make it easy to find dead loved ones. And even if it did, a lot of people don’t go by their given name in life. Granted, Rick and Gloria do. So, the chances of any of their children or grandchildren being down here are slimmer.”

Charlie’s frown deepened. For some reason, that prospect didn’t liven her like he thought it would. “What is it?”

Charlie shook her head. “It’s just…” she turned sympathetic eyes towards Rick who was off on the other side of the kitchen, preparing their food. “It’s sad. The idea that they’d be separated from their loved ones forever. I mean I’m sure they’d be happy to know their children and grandchildren are up in Heaven, not suffering like all the Sinners in Hell are. But still, it’s got to be so hard being separated from them and never being able to see them again.”

Vox wanted to laugh hysterically. Oh, how Charlie had hit the nail right on the head. Hellborn can never understand the torment of being a Sinner and being separated from loved ones that had gone to Heaven. Never being able to see them, speak to them, laugh with them ever again. And yet also being so utterly grateful that they will never be able to see the sort of monster their loved one had become.

And then there’s of course always the uncertainty of if their loved one ever DID go to Heaven. It was hard to track people down in Hell that people once knew in life. Vox might be different in that everyone knew who he was when he was alive. But that didn’t change the fact that so many of his loved ones died before him. Did they come to Hell and suffer a final death before he ever even died for the first time? Was it in an extermination? Were they killed by another Demon?

Vox had to comfort himself with the flimsy hope that they had gone to Heaven in the end. They went to Heaven, and he would never see them ever again.

Instead of saying any of that, he simply said, “You have no idea.”

Gloria arrived then, placing two glasses and a bottle of cheap whiskey onto their table. “There ya go! Some whiskey!” She poured each of them a generous amount that Charlie was eyeing wearily. She then pushed each glass towards them and lifted the bottle up towards herself. “Bottoms up!” And Gloria took a generous gulp before slamming the bottle back onto the table and smacking her lips.

Vox chuckled at Charlie’s nervous look. He then raised his cup and clanked it against Charlie’s, waiting for her to take a sip with him. Charlie began coughing almost immediately. Gloria smacked her back. “There ya go! The burn means it’s workin’!”

“The burn means it’s cheap,” said Vox.

“I think the burn just means it’s liquor,” said Charlie through her coughs.

Vox and Gloria laughed. Rick came over shortly after that, placing two plates down, each piled high with fries and a burger. “There you two go! My specialty!”

Charlie examined the plate with interest. “What makes them so special?”

“They’re chocked full of grease and will be sure to clog your arteries,” Vox said.

Rick shot him a look. “Don’ listen to Ace. The fries are perfectly crispy, and the burgers are perfectly juicy. And they have a secret sauce on them!”

Charlie looked up at Vox who gave her an unimpressed look. “It’s mustard, mayo, and ketchup mixed together with some pickle juice and a dash of hot sauce.”

“Stop that!” cried Rick, smacking the back of Vox’s head. Charlie stared at them wide-eyed in surprise. “You’re ruining the affect!”

Vox rubbed the back of his head. “I’m not saying they aren’t still great burgers and fries!”

“I’m tryin’ to show off in front of the Princess and you’re makin’ it difficult!”

“It’s fine! Just let her eat her food!” said Vox.

“Boys, no fightin’!” cried Gloria, smacking both of them on the arms. “There are ladies present.”

“Ladies?” said Rick in surprise. He looked down at Charlie and then his wife. “I only see one. Your highness, has Vox changed genders in the past couple of years and I didn’ even know it?”

“Oh you!” cried Gloria, hitting her husband on his broad chest, making his laugh. “Go on! You get back to work! The burgers ain’t gonna grill themselves!”

“We barely got any customers! Who am I grillin’ for?” he said, even as he began to walk away.

“Me, you big oaf! I’m hungry and demand a burger!” she said as she followed after him, the two of them continuing to bicker back and forth.

Vox shook his head in fondness. He’d missed the two and he had no one to blame but himself. He then took a big bite of his burger and melted. Damn. He can eat at all the expensive fancy restaurants he wants, but having a good ol’ fashioned burger was something else. It was comforting. Just like so many other meals he once ate, prepared for him with care.

Vox watched as Charlie took her first bite and smiled in amusement when she groaned. “Good?”

She nodded enthusiastically. “Oh yes! This is so good!”

Vox chuckled. “You’ll have to let Rick know. He loves getting all the compliments on his cooking.”

“I will!” she said. “I can’t believe I haven’t been to this place. Why there’s no one even here! This food is GREAT!”

Vox nodded as he took another bite. “Rick has always been a good cook, not just burgers and fries too. They have never been the best at running a restaurant though. Not the most business minded. Resulted in them getting into a decent amount of trouble over the years.”

“Oh?” said Charlie as she continued to dig in.

“Apparently they got involved with some not-so-great people during life.” Vox took a sip of his whiskey, satisfied by the burn. “Got involved in some money laundering scheme with some people selling drugs. Kept their business running. Might or might not have been the reason why their place burned down.”

Charlie gasped. “Arson?”

“Maybe. Gloria seems to think so. Rick insists it was faulty wiring. I think he just doesn’t want to face the reality that he was the one that got them involved in the money laundering and feels guilty that it ended up resulting in Gloria’s death. Doesn’t matter that Gloria doesn’t blame him since she agreed to it. But guilt is a funny thing.” He took another big sip.

“That’s so sad,” said Charlie, eyeing her drink and taking a sip as well, shivering.

“There’s not a soul in Hell I think that doesn’t have a sad story. It’s Hell, after all.”

“Yeah,” said Charlie, lapsing into silence. Instead of taking another bite she turned to stare at Rick and Gloria. The two were on the other side of the kitchen, moving around each other with an ease of being married for decades. A small hand to the back, a brush of the arms, handing an item to the other without even needing to be asked. It was so incredibly domestic, something that so often was rare in Hell.

Vox watched Charlie as she watched the couple, her eyes turning sad at the sweet display. It’s a sight that would have usually made Charlie smile but given everything that had happened that day, Vox could understand why she wasn’t.

“I just can’t believe it,” she said in a whisper. “How could she ever want to hurt them. Hurt any of her own people. People who have already suffered so much.”

Why indeed. He knew that Charlie had been struggling with reconciling with the fact her own mother was apparently the one responsible for the exterminations, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t reeling from the revelation too. For so long, he and everyone thought that Heaven had just made the decision on their own to start the exterminations. Why would anyone think anything different?

But to have Hell’s own Queen, the one who supposedly cared for Sinners most, who was always an uplifting and inspiring voice for all to be the one responsible was beyond belief. Why would she have done such a thing? Was it truly due to the concern about Hell’s overpopulation problem? Was it due to some deep-seated resentment towards Sinners? Perhaps she too hated what Sinners represented, the gift of free will that she and her husband had gifted to humanity, being squandered and sullied. In the end though, did any of it matter? No, and Charlie needed to understand that.

Vox sighed. “Hurt people, hurt people.”

Charlie shot him an incredulous look. “What, are you saying my mother came up with the exterminations because she wanted to hurt Sinners because she was punished herself? She wants to punish everyone else??”

Vox shrugged. “Maybe. These things are always more complicated than that, but the fact of the matter is people who have been hurt always hurt others. Just look at Hell. There’s so much suffering here because all these people are constantly hurting each other. Sometimes it’s easier to strike first instead of waiting to be struck.”

“So, what, I should just forgive her because she’s been through something traumatic herself?? I should just excuse what she’s done and ignore it??” cried Charlie.

Vox raised an eyebrow. “Did I say that? At what point did I say that?” Charlie opened her mouth, but Vox leaned forwards and cut her off. “What we just found out about your mother is huge. It’s beyond comprehension. Your mother very well might be responsible for more deaths than any other soul in all of existence.” Charlie flinched. “And if all of Hell found out, every Sinner, the results could be cataclysmic.”

Charlie’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Vox took a large gulp of his drink, finishing it off. He poured himself another drink and topped off Charlie’s. Instead of protesting, she took another sip. “We just came from a meeting with Heaven. A very tense one in which the topic of discussion was war and peace. Should the exterminations stop, maybe there could be peace between the realms. If the exterminations should continue, war is likely, and not just between Heaven and Hell. Civil war is a possibility within Heaven and it’s clear that’s the main thing Heaven is worried about.”

Vox grabbed a fry, munching on it and washing it down with liquor. “Hell has always been a tumultuous realm, having dead Angels show up here won’t change that should war come. But the level of chaos that should descend upon Hell if everyone were to find out that their Queen was the one responsible for the exterminations? I can’t even imagine.”

Charlie’s face looked horrified. “You think that there could be a civil war here too?”

“Civil war might be a strong word for it,” he said. “I don’t know if Sinners really have much of a capacity to form legitimate sides but the chaotic violence of Hell will get worse. And any sort of a monarchy would likely fall.”

He let the implications of that sink in. Not only would Hell riot against its Queen, but the King and Charlie too. “Not only would you and your families’ lives be in jeopardy but your power. That might not be something you care about, but believe me, the last thing you want to be is a powerless individual in Hell, especially when people hate your guts.”

Charlie sucked in a shaky breath and took a big sip from her glass. He knew that she hadn’t fully comprehended the full gravity and allowed her to take a couple more sips in the hope of calming her nerves. “And if everyone hates you and distrusts you, with your entire reputation tarnished, there won’t be a single soul coming to your hotel to be redeemed.”

Charlie’s focus snapped up towards him, stunned and horrified. “But it’s possible! Once everyone realizes that they’ll come regardless of what my mother has done.”

Vox shook his head and sighed, frustrated by her naivety. “Charlie, you already have a hard time getting Sinners to come to your hotel. What makes you think they’d come if they lost all faith in your family?”

Charlie huffed in frustration. “So, what are you suggesting I do? Keep this a secret? Lie to everyone I know, to all of my people?”

“Yes,” he said forcefully.

“I can’t!” she said, slamming her glass on the table, sloshing some of the liquor inside. Rick and Gloria looked over questioningly but ultimately remained out of it.

“Charlie,” he began slowly, attempting to remain patient. “You have to understand that there is a weight to truth. There is a time and place to be honest and a time and place to lie.”

“I can’t lie about this!” she said desperately.

“It’s not really even a lie!” he said in exasperation. “You just omit the truth! No one needs to know what was discussed today except for everyone that was in that room.”

“How can you even say that?” she asked. She stared at him as if he was the one that had proposed the exterminations. As if he was the one that caried them out. “Aren’t you upset? Aren’t you angry that your own Queen has determined your life and all other Sinners lives are willing sacrifices?”

“Of course I’m angry!!” He shouted, slamming his hands on the table and standing up, his chair clanging to the floor. Charlie reared back in in surprise as he got close, hissing quietly into her face so only she could hear. “You think I enjoy hearing that my Queen is the one responsible for the exterminations? Responsible for the single greatest atrocity to ever happen?”

Charlie stared at him, disturbed. “You spoke earlier about the tragedy of Sinners being separated from their loved ones in Heaven. But you can’t imagine the horror of arriving in Hell, not knowing if those who died before you were in Heaven or had died in an extermination before you ever even arrived here.”

Vox leaned back, heaving heavily. He grabbed his upturned chair and placed it gently back on its legs before falling into his seat. He grabbed his glass and downed the rest of its contents. He was very much aware of the small audience he and Charlie had gathered, and he sighed as he poured another glass, not turning to his friends who were trying to be discreet and failing.

The sound of the bottle being placed back on the table rang out loud in the silence. His hand was shaking and as such it clattered more than it should have. Charlie looked at him sadly, watching as he brought the glass to his lips and then wiped his mouth as some liquid escaped.

She looked so devastated, and Vox suddenly felt guilty. He’d brought her here to try and help her, sooth her nerves, and he’d only made things worse. Putting such a wretched look on her face made him feel like he had whenever he did the same thing to Grace. Or Olivia. Or Velvette.

“Sorry,” he said, avoiding her gaze. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that. It’s not your fault and your struggling just as much, if not more, over this information.”

“No, no,” said Charlie, shaking her head quickly. “You’re right. I was being insensitive and selfish only thinking of myself and how this affected me. You’re the one that’s a Sinner. My mom is the one that betrayed you.”

Vox sighed, feeling worse at how understanding she was. “Your feelings of betrayal are valid too. She’s your mother and she’s lied directly to your face countless times. You have a right to be upset.” He then forced himself to look up and meet her eyes. “But you have to understand why you can’t tell anyone this. You do understand how devastating this would be if it got out, right?”

“Yes,” she said, blinking rapidly. “Yeah, I do now. I just wasn’t thinking about the repercussions if people found out.”

“That’s ok,” he said gently. “It’s hard to think about the bigger picture when hurt.”

Charlie gave a humorless laugh. “Is it? You seem to do just fine and I’m the Princess. I’m supposed to be thinking of the bigger picture all the time!”

“It takes practice,” he said. “You’ll get there. And I’m not as good as you might think. I react based on my emotions way more than I should and have been bitten in the ass for it more times than I can count.” Oh, wasn’t that the truth.

Charlie looked down at her mostly finished drink and quickly gulped down the rest. She shivered. “Bleh. This is terrible.”

Vox smirked. “Yeah, but this is the cheap stuff. You don’t drink it for the taste but to get drunk.”

Charlie nodded and then after a moment extended her glass to have Vox fill it up. He obliged without comment. She took another sip and sighed. “It helping at all?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I still feel really shitty and am very angry and don’t know how to feel about my mom or not telling anyone, but my head is starting to feel a little lighter.”

“Then it’s helping. Drink up.” The two clanked glasses together and began to drink.

Rick began to approach them, giving them both a look. “You two done being all serious and arguing?”

“We weren’t arguing,” said Vox. “Just having a discussion.”

“Mhm,” he said unconvinced. “Well, you done with your very serious conversation?”

Vox raised a single brow at Charlie in question, waiting for her response. She looked between the two of them and Gloria who was standing off at a distance, feigning cleaning. She then looked at the bottle of whiskey and smiled. “You know, it’s not such a bad thing to cut loose every once in a while.”

“That’a girl!” cried Rick, letting out a deep booming laugh. He grabbed a couple of clean glasses from a shelf, placing them on the table. “Let’s get drunk!”

Vox snorted. “Aren’t you working?”

Gloria came over, throwing the towel she’d been using to wipe down the counter over her shoulder, gratefully accepting one of the newly filled cups from Rick. “The only customer we got left is Bill out front, and he ain’t a real customer. He just uses our booths to sleep and get off the street.” She dragged a folding chair from out of a corner and plopped down next to Charlie. “Come on, Princess. We’re gonna show you how we Sinners like to ‘cut loose’!”
___________________________________________________________________
Xavier sat in the back of an ambulance, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, as he stared blankly at his damaged front door.

He barely paid attention to the paramedics as they checked his vital signs and examined him for any injuries. They noted a couple bruises on his neck, hickeys, but he didn’t respond when asked how he got them.

Police tape was put up around his property, a rather significant crowd having gathered just beyond the perimeter. Paparazzi and neighbors alike, watched on in question at what might have occurred. Police buzzed around, coming in and out of his home that he was not allowed to enter. The coroner had arrived not too long ago, but he hadn’t exited yet. Nor had Grace.

“We’ll have to talk to all the neighbors on the bloke. See if anyone heard or saw anything last night,” one officer had said as they passed by.

“Talk to family and friends. Coworkers too. See if anyone might have wanted her hurt,” another had muttered to a couple other officers.

“I’ll check our records to see if there had been any other violent break ins in the area or city,” yet another had said just on the other side of the ambulance.

It was all noise, barely registering with Xavier as he kept staring at that door.

When did it happen? How many people? Was it one or several? How had she died? Was the slit throat what killed her or was it the clear beating that she had sustained? How had she been beaten? Were weapons used? Was it their hands? Was it both? What injuries had she sustained that he hadn’t even noticed? Was there more underneath her clothing? Underneath her underpants? Oh God, had they…

Xavier took in a stuttering breath through his silent cries. Tear tracks had stained his cheeks. Just like the blood had stained his hands. And shirt. And jacket. And pants. And….

“Mr. Vox.” There was an officer standing there now, just off to the side, not obstructing his view of the door. “I was hoping that you could answer some of my questions.”

Xavier wet his dry lips with his tongue. “What would y-y-you like to know?” he croaked.

“When officers arrived on scene and took you out of your home, you said that someone had murdered you wife.” Xavier’s hands tightened around where he held onto the ends of the blanket. “Can you describe to me what they looked like?”

He shook his head slowly. “I don’t know.”

The officer, a detective he realized, noting the suit instead of a uniform, frowned. “You can’t remember?”

“I wasn’t here,” he said.

“You weren’t home?” he asked.

“No,” he said in slight irritation. Isn’t that what he just said? “I was at a friend’s house,” he said, his voice cracking at the end. God, if he hadn’t been at Jack’s then maybe this wouldn’t have happened.

“Can I get the name of the friend?”

“Jack Stewart,” he said as he sniffled.

“The actor?” asked the detective.

No, the grocer. Of course, the fucking actor! It was well known that they had worked together several different times. “Yes,” he croaked, instead.

Out of the corner of his eye Xavier could see the detective write something down on a small notepad. “We’ll want to talk to Jack Stewart, of course.”

“Why?” he said, not quite understanding the need. It’s not like Jack did this. They didn’t need to waste their time talking to people who had nothing to do with this. They should be out there, looking for Grace’s killers!

“To confirm your whereabouts.”

Xavier’s brows furrowed slightly, still not understanding. Finally, he looked towards the detective. The man was older, greying at the temples, giving him a salt-and-pepper look. He had a strong jaw with the slightest bit of stubble, likely from having been woken up so early and not having time to shave. He had broad shoulders and dark eyes. If it wasn’t for the situation, Xavier would find him quite attractive. “My whereabouts?”

“Yes,” he said. “We’ll need to confirm your whereabouts if you’re saying you weren’t here.”

Xavier’s brows furrowed further. “Of course I wasn’t here. You really think I wouldn’t fight whoever it was that did this to Grace if I had been here? Look at me!” he said, throwing the blanket off. “I don’t have a scratch on me!”

“Perhaps not any scratches that we can see,” he said, looking pointedly at Xavier’s neck.

Xavier gulped. “You can examine me. You’ll find no injuries.” God he dearly hoped. He couldn’t really remember just how rough Jack had been with him last night, everything being a blur after they left the bar. “And you better believe it that there would be countless injuries on my if I had been here.”

“Maybe,” said the detective, unconvinced. “That is, if someone else had been here.”

“What the Hell is that supposed to mean?” he growled.

The detective gave him a hard look. “I think you know.”

And he did. They were looking at him as a suspect. They HE was the one that murdered her. They thought he didn’t have any injuries, nothing significant, because there was no suspect for him to fight off. He overpowered his much smaller wife and beat her and then slit her throat. The state that he was in, the amount of blood that covered his body, well…it looked plausible.

“I did NOT murder my wife!” he said forcibly, shaking with rage. He got to his feet, stepping close to the detective. He only paused because once he did, he finally noticed the uniformed officers standing by who took steps forward as if to grab him. “And you are wasting your time questioning me when you should be out THERE looking for whoever the FUCK DID THIS!”

The detective didn’t so much as flinch. He stared at the shaking and seething man, assessing. He then took a step closer, closing the distance, the two standing only a breath away from each other. “I understand your anger, Mr. Vox.” The Hell he did! “But this is a normal part of any police investigation. We have to question those closest to the deceased.” He flinched. “And you are arguably the closest to her. I understand that right now your emotions are likely running high, but I would like to take you down to the station for further questioning. We’ll be wanting to collect your clothing too, of course. As evidence.”

Xavier looked down at himself and his clothing, noting that Jack wasn’t going to get his pants back.

He turned back around and retook his seat, wrapping the blanket back around himself. Any fight that he had regained evaporated, leaving him feeling numb once more. “Sure. Whatever you want.”

The noise from the crowd around the perimeter had increased slightly. “Thank you, Mr. Vox,” said the detective. “I will have it arranged for you to be taken down to the station as soon as possible so that I-”

“Detective Perry!” said another officer who rushed up to them. “You really should hear this.”

The two wondered off, leaving Xavier to stare vacantly at the front door once more. What had been used to break down the door? A foot? A heavy object? Had it been one person or many? It must have happened quickly because otherwise Grace would have rushed to call the police, right?

The paramedics behind him were muttering together, their words not registering in his mind. The click of the ambulances radio could be heard turning on.

“-still coming in at the number of dead that lay on the base of Pearl Harbor, committed by an unprovoked sneak attack by Japanese airmen early this morning. Reportedly, US battleships have been hit and even sunk in the bay. President Roosevelt has said-”

It was all chatter, fading to the background, even as officers and the crowd scurried frantically about, their focus having switched to the latest tragedy. “We’re at war,” one officer said as he hurried past. “The world was about to end,” he said to another.

No, Xavier thought. It already had.
____________________________________________________________
“A-and then, she tells me,” Rick hiccupped. “And she tells me that I’m the last man on Earth that she would EVER consider going on a date with.” He pulled his wife close, jostling liquor from both of their glasses. He gave her a big doe eyed look. “And then she poured her drink on me.”

Charlie laughed. “What? But you two are so in love! How did you manage to get past that?”

“She did always say I was stubborn and she ain’t wrong!” he said with a smile. “I was persistent. Over time I whittled her down with my charm.”

“More like I found the number of times he made a fool of himself in front of me amusing,” said Gloria, elbowing her husband in the stomach and making him laugh. “I never did laugh as much as I did when I was with him. I thought might as well spend the rest of my life laughing at him.”

“Oh, and what a life it’s been, sweetheart,” said Rick, leaning over and planting a wet kiss on her lips that made her giggle like a much younger woman. Charlie could just imagine the two of them as being young and in love. It was all so romantic.

“Alright you two, enough of that,” said Vox, downing his drink when the two kept kissing. He got to his feet and pulled Gloria away, spinning her towards him. She laughed as he brought her into a dancing position. “You’ve had this lovely lady all to yourself for too long now, Ricky. Let her spend some time with someone else.”

“I’d let her spend as much time with you as she wants if you’d just come around more often,” said Rick, leaning back against the wall with a smile. There wasn’t any real ire in his tone of voice, but Charlie could see that Vox still looked uneasy about the reminder of not coming around.

“Well maybe I just might,” he said as he began to lead Gloria into a quick dance as a new song began.

They had pulled out a record player some time ago, something that Charlie was shocked to see, and that Vox had mocked them for still having. The old couple took the teasing in stride, and it seemed that despite the comments about upgrading, there was some real cheer in Vox’s eyes when he saw the records. He held a smile as he went through the box, one that Charlie didn’t think the Overlord was aware of wearing.

The sounds of guitars and drums, accompanied by saxophone filled the room. “Well, I was tossin’ and turnin’. Turnin’ and tossin’. Tossin’ and turnin’ all night!” went the song. With each utterance of the word “turnin’”, Vox would twirl Gloria around who laughed in delight at his expert dancing. All the while, he was smiling and singing along. Charlie couldn’t help her own smile. She didn’t think she had seen Vox smile like this once during the entire time she had known him, and it was nice to see. She thinks he needed this and maybe she did too.

“He’s a right good dancer, ain’t he?” said Rick to her who had come to sit in the seat next to her, bringing the whiskey with him. It was their second bottle and Charlie didn’t think she should have any more, yet didn’t say no when he poured her another glass. “Both of them really. Me, I got two left feet. Should have seen me on my weddin’ day, barely managed to get through our dance. Ace, on the other hand, charmed every woman there, includin’ my wife. Granted she was already charmed by ‘im. Pretty sure half the reason she ever actually agreed to date me was just to get close to my rich and famous friend.”

“Nah,” said Charlie, shaking her head and swallowing thickly around another gulp of whiskey. She’d had several glasses, and it was going down easier, but the taste still left much to be desired. “You charmed her yourself. I know it.”

“Oh, do ya now, Princess?” asked Rick in amusement. “Well, I’m mighty pleased to hear it but really, I ain’t the charmin’ one. John always did say he could have charmed the pants off of anyone. Granted his good looks and bein’ famous sure did help.”

Something niggled at the back of Charlie’s alcohol addled mind at the name, but she couldn’t pinpoint why. “John?”

“Yeah, he was part of our crew. He was one of the gunners, like me. The right and left waist gunners, side by side.” Rick sighed as he watched his wife and Vox. “Miss that old bastard. Miss all them.”

Charlie didn’t know much about human wars outside of how brutal they were. Granted, it was never much different than how brutal the exterminations were. She knew enough not to ask any more questions about it and simply allowed Rick room to say as much or as little as he felt comfortable.

“Never did run into any of the others down here,” he said. “Ace said he never did either. Makes me think they all went up above. Or at least one can hope.” He drank some more whiskey.

Charlie reached out and laid a hand on his arm. She offered him a reassuring smile. “I’m sure they did.”

Rick returned it. “Thank ya, Princess. I know hopin’ don’t mean much but it’s all we got some of the time.”

The song came to a close and a new one began. Gloria laughed in delight as she sang along to the quick succession of the singer saying, “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Vox twirled her as they sang together, “Some friends go bowling every Saturday night.”

“How’s he been?” asked Rick. His tone was softer, more subdued. Charlie looked at him and found him watching Vox with an almost sad expression. “It’s been so long since I seen him. I worry.”

Charlie’s brows pulled together. “I don’t really know,” she said, matching his tone. “I’ve only known him for a couple of months. But…” she trailed off, turning to watch as well. “I worry about him too.”

Rick sighed. “That bad, huh? If you only just met him and even you can tell he ain’t doin’ well then, he ain’t doin’ well.” Rick drank.

Despite the joyful scene Vox and Gloria were putting on, they both knew it was only temporary. “He always was a sad one,” Rick said. “I mean considerin’ what happened right before we first met, it makes sense. But he never did shake it. But again, considerin’ all the other shit he been through, it makes sense.”

Charlie frowned. “You mean the war?”

Rick nodded. “Sure, that’s part of it. The war had just started shortly before we met but that ain’t what put him in such a sour mood.” Rick turned to look at her. “His wife had just died, you see. Murdered.” Charlie’s eyes widened. “Really tore him apart. Didn’ help that rumors went around that he did it. Said he ran off to fight in the war in order to flee but those that knew him know better. Man was runnin’ and didn’ care what happened to him.”

Charlie’s head whipped back towards the smiling Overlord, her heart aching for the man. His comments earlier about not knowing if Sinners loved ones who died before them going to Heaven or Hell made a lot of sense. Having that fear they had died in an extermination and hoping they were in Heaven, even if it meant never seeing them again.

“I didn’t know he had ever been married,” she said softly.

“Yeah. She had been some big shot famous actress too. Hollywood’s power couple back in the day. The news of her death kind of got overshadowed by America joinin’ the war but it was still big enough news that everyone knew about it,” said Rick. “Seemed to devastate him. I mean, I know now that he’s gay but sounds like they were still very close.”

“You didn’t know he was gay at the time?” she asked.

Rick laughed. “Princess, ain’t nobody sharing that information back in the forties. Not unless if they want to risk getting’ killed or arrested. Of course there were the rumors, you know, towards the end of his life,” he said quickly, taking a sip of his drink. Charlie thought she understood why, knowing what she knew about how he died. “Didn’t believe them with all the other shit they were sayin’ about him at the time. Turns out he WAS gay. I just don’t believe none of that other stuff they were sayin’.”

Charlie took a sip as they continued to watch the dancing. “You mean about why he was arrested?”

Rick’s head whipped towards her, and he gave her a critical eye. “What do ya know about him being arrested?”

She shrugged one shoulder and fiddled with her glass nervously. “Just what I’ve heard. That he was arrested for being part of a human trafficking ring and while in jail he, uhm, you know…” She trailed off as she rubbed at her neck.

Rick gave a single firm nod. “Well, ain’t none of it’s true, ya hear? Not a word.” He huffed. “I mean maybe the whole killin’ himself thing is, honestly don’t know. I never did ask about his death. But ain’t none of the rest of it. Don’t believe it for a second.”

Hearing at least one person have such faith in Vox was heartening. Thus far, only Rick and Gloria have seemed to have such faith in him. Seeing as they were the ones who had known him the longest, Charlie felt that maybe their faith wasn’t misplaced.

“I don’t believe it either,” she said with confidence.

Rick’s head whipped towards her, and he stared at her for several seconds. Then, “You really mean tha’, doncha?”

She made eye contact and gave a firm nod. “Yes.”

He gave her a smirk. “Well, I’ll be, damned. And I don’ jus’ mean literally. The things they say about you are true, ain’t they?”

“And what do they say?” she asked, more than aware of what he had likely heard.

“That you’re a trustin’ type, which is rare down here. They say you’re either too stupid or too naïve, or both.” Charlie could feel herself wilt despite knowing what he’d say. Considering the revelation about her mother, she thought maybe they were right. “But I don’ know if that’s it.” Charlie perked up slightly. He then snorted. “I mean, at least not all of it.”

He barked out a laugh when her dejected look returned. “Hey, none of that. Maybe you could do with some hardin’ up but there’s somethin’ about ya. Can’t quite put my finger on it but you’re a breath of fresh air down here in this shit hole. It’s nice.” Charlie could feel her cheeks flush at the compliment, looking away bashfully. “Maybe it’s just what this place needs.”

Before she could respond the music stopped, the record letting out the sounds of static as it continued to twirl around. “Rick!” cried Gloria. “Find us another record!”

“Quite your yammerin’!” he called back as he got to his feet. “I’ll find ya somethin’!”

Gloria came over to claim Rick’s vacant seat, breathing heavily as she dabbed at her forehead. Vox followed her, grinning widely before finishing off his forgotten drink. “Don’t tell me you’re done already, old woman?”

Gloria rolled her eyes. “Who you callin’ old? You’re older than me!”

“You’re wrinkles say otherwise,” Vox teased.

“Your birthdate says otherwise,” she countered. “Not all of us have the luxury of dying young and spry!”

“Fifties is NOT young and spry!” he said as he laughed.

Gloria waved a hand at him. “It’s younger and sprier than me. Now go on, I need a break.”

“Spoil sport,” Vox said without any real venom. He then turned a smile towards Charlie. He bent forwards into a bow, extending one hand while placing the other at the small of his back. “What do you say, Princess? You want to show these old geezers how it’s done?”

Charlie looked down at the hand before looking at Gloria who offered her an encouraging smile. “I don’t know. I think I’ve had a bit too much to drink.” As if to confirm the fact, she let out a hiccup. She covered her mouth in embarrassment. “I might be a little uncoordinated.”

“Never mind that,” he said softly. “Even if you fall flat on your face that’s fine. It’s just us here. No one will judge you for falling over and having a good time.”

Charlie took only another second to mull it over before she smiled widely and grabbed Vox’s hand who matched the size of her grin and pulled her to her feet.

“Now I don’ want no complainin’ from you, Ace,” said Rick, coming over to the record player with a new vinyl. “You’re gonna have to settle for some more music past your time.”

Vox rolled his eyes. “I listen to techno music, Rick. Whatever music you’ll play for me that’s ‘past my time’ you know I’m not going to complain about.”

Rick muttered something under his breath that were clear complaints about Vox having no taste and bemoaning his ‘techy’ music. Vox just shot Charlie an exasperated look which made her snicker that she had to hide behind her hand.

Soon enough some drums started and a mans voice started singing an upbeat song. “Everybody loves to cha cha cha. Little children like to cha cha cha. They like to cha cha cha!”

Vox laughed in excitement as he pulled Charlie close and she was forced to try and keep pace. “Sam Cooke! Go on, get out of here, Rick! This is from the fifties too!”

“Ahh but after you died still!” said Rick waving him off and plopping down into Charlie’s vacant seat.

Vox just shook his head in amusement. Charlie stared wide eyed down at their feet, trying to keep up on uncoordinated feet.

“Eyes up,” said Vox. Charlie’s head shot up and their eyes met. “Just focus on me and let me lead.” He squeezed the hand he had ahold of in reassurance. “I got you. Just trust me.”

Charlie gave him a small smile then.

She could do that. She could trust him just fine.
____________________________________________________________
The line stretched out long before Xavier. Over the past couple of weeks, men had come in droves, a sense of patriotism and anger fueling them. So many of them were young. Barely eighteen, practically children still. They reminded him of Victor.

He wondered what Victor would have thought, seeing him here now. Would he have thought him a hypocrite? Would he have been angry? Or perhaps just sad and scared for his baby brother? It has been so long since he even thought of his brother last but now, standing here in line, its all he could think about.

He had raged at his brother, been furious when he had willingly enlisted to fight in the first world war. Now, here he was decades later, about to do the same.

There were whispers and mutters around him from the other men – boys – who recognized him. The stoney look on his face scared them off from approaching.

Xavier’s suit felt stiff, uncomfortable against his skin. It was the nicest one he owned. In his suit jacket the pamphlet from Grace’s funeral felt heavy. It had felt heavy ever since he placed it there just hours before when he left straight from her funeral to come here.

He didn’t have to think hard on what Grace would think of him being here. It would be the same response she had had over the past year, overwhelming worry and sorrow. Knowing her, she might have even felt guilt, thinking her death had drove him to this.

In a way he supposed it had.

So many times now he had been left behind. First Victor. Then Olivia. Now Grace. After his siblings he was at least not alone. But now? Now he had no one and nothing.

He felt numb. He felt like his heart had been ripped out, leaving an aching open wound behind. He couldn’t take it anymore.

So here he was, in line.

Ready to enlist in the army.

Ready to put his life on the line.

Ready to risk the only thing he had left.

“Next!” shouted the recruiter who didn’t even look up.

Xavier stepped forward and said, “Xavier Vox.”

The recruiter snorted as he stared down at his paper. “Yeah, and I’m the King of England. Name?” A hush had fallen upon the room, the other prospecting recruits having already been aware of his presence and the other recruiters looking up upon hearing his name.

“Xavier. Vox,” he said, emphasizing each name.

The recruiter finally looked up and when he did his eyes widened. “Y-you’re Xavier Vox. The actor!”

“How nice of you to notice,” he drawled. He looked down at the paper before the recruiter. “You gonna put my name down?”

The recruiter blinked in surprise, opening and closing his mouth several times. “I mean – just – you do realize where you’re at, right?”

Xavier clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Unlike you my observation skills are not faulty. Yes, I know exactly where I am.” He indicated towards the paper. “Now can we move this along?”

“It’s just-”

“Look,” said Xavier, cutting off the recruiter. “I know exactly where I am. I know exactly what I am doing. If you are trying to convince me to change my mind, save your breath for one of these idiotic children and tell them to go back home, kiss their mothers, and enjoy as much time as they have left before they are inevitably drafted anyways.” He leaned forwards, placing his hands on the table and getting into the recruiters’ face. “Now, my name is Xavier Vox. I am here to sign up for the Army. I may be older than most of these boys, but I am in peak health, I’m willing to fight, I’m more intelligent than the lot of them despite not having a college degree, and I have hundreds of hours logged as a civilian pilot. Any test you throw at me, I’ll pass.” Every soul in the room was quiet, fixated on the scene before them. “If you don’t write my name down on that little paper then I’ll shift over to one of these over lines and have them do it for me.”

The recruiter’s brows furrowed but he made no other comment before writing Xavier’s name down on the paper before him, filling out the rest of the form.

He handed the completed form to Xavier. “Here, take this back to the doctor in that room over there. He will go through the next steps with you before you can be accepted.”

Xavier took the form, thanking the man and turning to walk away. The room still had a hushed quiet.

Then, “And my condolences about you wife.”

Xavier stopped in his steps at the recruiters’ words. Every eye was on him, and he felt his skin prickle.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Me too.”
____________________________________________________
“Fuck!” cried Vaggie.

She had just tried calling Charlie for probably the hundredth time but still, no answer. Where was she?!

When Queen Lilith had shown up, frantic, stating that she and Charlie got into an argument and she ran off with Overlord Vox and she had no idea where they had gone, Vaggie panicked. They could be ANYWHERE in the city. It was huge and not to mention there were so many places in his district he could squirrel her away to and no one would know!

“Still no response?” came the irritated voice sitting across from Vaggie in the limousine.

“No!” she shouted. Obviously there had been no answer.

Overlord Velvette huffed and scowled down at her own phone, clicking away far quicker than Vaggie thought possible.

As painful as it was, Vaggie had to admit that maybe Vox HADN’T actually kidnapped Charlie for when she angrily called Velvette demanding answers after getting no response from Charlie or Vox, Velvette had sounded just as concerned as Vaggie was. She wasted no time either to start searching for the two, not arguing when Vaggie insisted she come with. Granted, this could all be some stalling tactic on both Overlord’s part, leading Vaggie on some wild goose chase while Vox did whatever the Hell he wanted to Charlie, in some sketchy dungeon underneath their tower.

She swore to God, if that was the case, neither Overlord would be safe from her wrath.

“Uhm, Ms. Velvette,” came the tentative voice from the driver seat.

“What is it?” she barked out without looking up from her phone. Vaggie didn’t even know what she was doing on that thing. Weren’t they supposed to be looking for Charlie and Vox? She wasn’t even looking out the window!

“I just received a message from Mr. Vox,” said the nervous driver. “He is requesting a pick up.”

“That bastard!” shouted Velvette. “He responds to you but not me?? Where is he?!”

“Uhm, a small diner in your district,” said the driver.

“A diner?” said Velvette in confusion.

“Is Charlie with her?” said Vaggie at the same time, shoving her head through the window separating them from the driver.

“Yes, ma’am. The Princess is with him,” he said.

Vaggie let out a sigh or relief and fell back into her seat. “Oh, thank God.”

“Ew, don’t say that,” said Velvette in disgust. Then, addressing the driver she yelled, “Well, step on it!”

The driver sped away, forcing Vaggie back into her seat and nearly giving her whiplash. She’ll give him credit at least in that he got them there in record time.

He wasn’t lying. He stopped outside some dingy looking diner in the entertainment district. She supposed she hadn’t been wrong in thinking he had taken Charlie to somewhere in his district, but this would have been one of the last places Vaggie would have expected he had taken Charlie too.

Vaggie and Velvette both stepped out, giving weary looks towards the establishment. “What even is this place?” asked Vaggie.

“How the fuck should I know?” said Velvette.

Vaggie crossed her arms. “It’s YOUR district.”

“So?” said Velvette in annoyance. “It’s a big district. You really think I know every club, bar, and restaurant in this place?”

Maybe a competent Overlord would, thought Vaggie.

The front door opened then and Charlie and Vox stumbled out, both hanging on each other and laughing.

“Charlie!” cried Vaggie in relief.

Charlie’s attention was drawn her way, and she immediately lit up. “Vagggggie!!!” she said cheerfully, raising her free arm in greeting.

Vaggie rushed to her girlfriend’s side, pulling her into a hug. Charlie slumped against her. “Oh God, I was so worried!” said Vaggie. “I didn’t know where you had gone!”

Vaggie pulled back slightly and held Charlie’s upper arms to keep her steady. Wait, was she drunk? “I was jusss’ with Vox,” Charlie slurred. “We were h-havvvvin’ ffunnnnn!”

Vaggie blinked at her in confusion. “Yeahhhhh,” slurred Vox. Vaggie turned and saw he was leaning against the doorframe with Velvette standing close, hovering and shooting a worried look his way that he was completely unaware of. Next to him stood to older Demon’s, both looking less intoxicated than the other two. “J-just havin’ some funnn, baby.”

“Baby?” Vaggie screeched incredulously.

“Oh Vaggie,” said Charlie, pulling her attention away. “I-I love you, Vaggie. Sooooo much. I m-missed you.” Charlie threw her arms around Vaggie, forcing her to catch her very drunk girlfriend. “You don’ evennn know. My mom was being soooooo mean earlier and I missssed you but it’s ok because Vox h-helped.” She hiccuped. “And i’sssss ok, but no’ really but I can’ tell you ‘cause,” Charlie leaned back and placed a finger over Vaggie’s lips. “Shhhhhhh, it’s a seeeecret.”

“What? What’s a secret? What’s going on?” cried Vaggie, worried. Had Vox told her to keep something a secret from her? What secret?

“Sh sh sh,” said Charlie again, pushing her finger further against Vaggie’s lips. “Shhhhh.” Her face then screwed up into a pinched look. “My stomach hurts.”

One of the older Demons at the door then burst out laughing. “We told ya that cheap stuff was strong! You get home, Princess, and drink some water before passin’ out, you hear?”

“Thanks Rick! Thanks Gloria!” said Charlie as she waved at the two. “I will!”

“Heyyyyy!” whined Vox. “Wha’ abou’ me?”

“You know better,” said the Demoness whose words were contrasted by her soft tone and patting at his arm. “But you get some water in you too, darlin’. And don’ you wait too long before comin’ back here again, ya hear? You too, Princess.”

“I won’t!” said Charlie cheerfully.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve learned my lesson. We’ll come see you nex’ week, right Charlie?” said Vox, Charlie agreeing enthusiastically. He then pushed away from the doorframe too forcefully, making him stumble but was caught by Velvette who stared worriedly up at the other Overlord. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

“Come on. Let’s get you home,” Velvette said in response.

Vaggie and Velvette helped the two into the limousine with great difficulty, the other two barely helping as they giggled to each other. Once in the limousine, Vaggie watched as Charlie and Vox practically leaned against each other, laughing like two school girls, gossiping. Vaggie was baffled by the sight and didn’t know how to take it. Velvette who sat beside her wore a similar befuddled look.

“The Hell is this all about?” Vaggie asked.

“How the fuck should I know?” she bit out. Then she sighed, wilting. “I wish I knew.”

The other two continued to laugh, completely unaware of the other two.

Vaggie frowned. “This is concerning right? Like, I know they seem happy right now but Charlie’s not usually like this. She doesn’t just go MIA nor typically get shit faced drunk.”

The two leaned against each other, falling over onto each other as they laughed hysterically at whatever inane thing they were laughing about.

Then Velvette said softly, “Yeah. We should be concerned.”

That wasn’t exactly the response Vaggie wanted but it was far more honest than she would have expected from the Overlord. Vaggie looked at her out of the corner of her eye and saw Velvette wearing an uncharacteristically worried and unguarded look as she watched her friend.

This was the second time in as many weeks that they had had to search for Vox and found him belligerently drunk. Even for a Demon, that seemed concerning.

The two of them lapsed into silence as they watched the ones they cared for. Vox and Charlie soon started losing steam, their eyes drooping despite trying to stay awake.

“Thanks,” Vaggie mumbled, without looking towards Velvette.

Velvette gave her a repulsed look. “For?”

Vaggie sighed. Of course, she was going to make this harder than it needed to be. “For helping find Charlie. I appreciate it.”

Velvette huffed and turned back towards the other two, crossing her arms. There was a pause then, “You’re welcome.” Another pause. “And thanks for letting me know Vox had gone AWOL,” she said quickly, like she was trying to force it out as fast as possible.

Vaggie gave a small smile of amusement. Overlords. Was it really so hard to just say thanks?

Charlie and Vox leaned against each other, both drifting into a heavy sleep that only copious amounts of alcohol could bring on. The limousine rocked them into a dead sleep as their faithful guardians watched on, a tentative understanding falling between them. If for only a couple moments, there was a quiet and peace in the tumultuous ring of Pride.

Notes:

In 1941:
Xavier is 36
Grace is 36

Historical facts and general information about this chapter:

The attack on Pearl Harbor was a surprise military strike by the Empire of Japan on the United States Pacific Fleet at its naval base at Pearl Harbor on Oahu, Hawaii, on December 7, 1941. At the time, the U.S. was a neutral country in World War II. The attack force began its attacks at 7:55 a.m. Hawaiian time, 9:55 a.m. California time. On December 8th, 1941, President Franklin Roosevelt delivered a speech that has been known as the "Day of Infamy" speech or the Infamy speech. The speech is known for its famed first line, which opened with Roosevelt saying, "Yesterday, December 7, 1941—a date which will live in infamy..." Soon after the speech, Congress almost unanimously declared war against Japan, formally entering World War II.

L.A.’s sunrise on December 7th, 1941 was 6:45 a.m. This would have given Xavier/Vox more than enough time to get home right after sunrise, find Grace, and have police arrive on scene and commence their initial investigation when the reports of Pearl Harbor reached the mainland. From my research, news of the attack on Pearl Harbor reached President Roosvelt fairly quickly and in turn broadcasts to the rest of the U.S. followed shortly after that.

The United States Air Force didn’t form until 1947. Any Boeing B-17 Flying Fortress pilots, which as previously established in a different chapter was what Vox had flown during the war, were part of the U.S. Army Air Corps. When it comes to pilots, from the research I’ve done (that is a little iffy), most pilots were between the age of 18-26 and typically had some sort of college degree. However, later they modified requirements as the war went on. Given Vox’s age and education I’m kind of playing loosey goosey with the rules but since he’s already a civilian pilot and he’s been established as an intelligent person who would likely be able to pass any tests they throw at him, we’re going to say he was a B-17 pilot! Anything military related is probably not going to be super accurate as this story goes on. I really don’t know much about the military, let alone the military during the 1940’s. So just roll with it!

The two songs Vox and Gloria danced to were “Tossin’ and turnin” by Bobby Lewis which was released in 1961 and “One Track Mind” by Bobby Lewis which was released in 1961.

The song Vox and Charlie danced to was “Everybody Loves to Cha Cha Cha” by Sam Cooke which was released in 1959.

I imagine Rick to look like a mountain goat rather than a domestic goat. Mountain goats are bigger, hairier, and have horns for defense. Mountain goats can represent perseverance, optimism, independence, and the ability to find abundance even in seemingly barren landscapes.

In various cultures and mythologies, female cows (and cattle in general) are strong symbols of fertility, motherhood, nurturing, and prosperity.

 

Here we are, finally, Grace’s death. I know people had been contemplating for quite some time how she would eventually die. Some people had already guessed to an extent that of course it had to be tragic, and she would die alone based on the foreshadowing I had put in the story way back when Xavier first met Harvey and Jack. The musical that they were performing with Harvey and Jack in attendance, with each of the three (Olivia, Grace, and then Xavier) dying alone while being haunted by the past friends. Well, here we are with Grace having been alone, leaving Xavier as the last.

As hard as it is to part with her now we still have plenty of her left with Alastor’s story in the past. I’ll be honest, I feel like that might be a harder departure, at least for me, because that will be the end. Grace was such a late addition to this story in my mind and yet she has become one of my favorite characters I’ve been writing. She’s like Zuko in the Last Avatar. He was one of the last characters they crafted and yet he is one of the most beloved characters.

Anyone seen the show the Leftovers? In that show, Liv Tyler’s character loses her mother. On that same day the great worldwide tragedy that occurs in the show happens. Her grief over losing her mother is overshadowed by the tragedy that most every other person on the planet shares. That’s how I imagined that Xavier/Vox would feel when Grace dies. He is experiencing one of the most traumatic moments of his life, but he can’t properly grieve because the rest of the US is grieving over the attack on Pearl Harbor and make his own personal tragedy feel inconsequential.

As always, stay tuned for the next chapter!

Chapter 27: A Familial Bond and an Even More Important (Controversial) One

Summary:

It's 1925 and Alastor attends his latest victim's funeral in order to be there for Grace. He attempts to conceal his presence from hateful relations.

In the present, Lilith visits Alastor and reveals to him all the secrets surrounding her deal with the Mistress which resulted in her soul being sold. This only leads to more questions.

Notes:

Welp, I'm back! Sooo sorry for the wait but as I said during the last chapter, I didn't know when I would update next due to needing to find a new place to move to with my partner. Well we found a place and officially moved in so all that stress is now gone! Yay! Hopefully this means chapters will be updated on a more regular schedule (you know...on my 1 chapter a month average). Enjoy!

TW for this chapter: period typical racism

1925

This was a bad idea.

A very bad idea.

Alastor adjusted his hat once more, trying to pull it down to cover as much of his face as possible without looking suspicious or foolish. He also fidgeted with his jacket. While nice, it was not the most expensive one he owned. Again, he didn’t want to draw too much attention to himself.

“Stop that,” reprimanded Mimzy as she smacked at his hand that was adjusting his tie. “All your fussin’ is making me nervous now too.”

Alastor scowled down at her and sniffed. She squeezed the arm she had ahold of as they walked arm-in-arm down the sidewalk. He had parked a couple blocks away, due mostly to the fact he wanted to prolong the inevitable as much as possible.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he said in a huff.

“Nonsense,” she said. “Grace would be mighty disappointed if you failed to show up.” She gave him a disapproving look out of the corner of his eye. “You don’t want to disappoint Gracie, now do ya?”

Alastor’s frown deepened. Leave it to Mimzy to go straight for the jugular. He’s told her once, and he’ll tell her again, if she set her mind to it, she’d be a successful killer in her own right.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” he said.

“Yes, and ya look like a baby deer ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble,” she replied, making him sneer at the comparison. “You need to relax. It’s not like there’s any reason for the family to notice you. We’ll stay towards the back and blend in with the crowd.”

“Crowd?” he said with a sardonic laugh. “You really think that Clayton of all people will draw a significant crowd to his funeral?”

Mimzy grimaced as they rounded the street corner, a small church coming into view. “Perhaps not. But then again, it’s not like Grace’s own family cared very much for the man. They might not even be here!” Alastor shot her a single raised eyebrow in disbelief. She just sighed, knowing her words were only wishful thinking.

It had been years since Alastor had seen any of Grace’s, and his, relatives. The last time he saw any of them was Grace’s mother all those years ago on the day of his own mother’s death. It had been awkward, uncomfortable, but at least she hadn’t looked at him with disapproving eyes like he knew the rest of Grace’s family would if they were to see him again.

He wondered who would have a stronger reaction; the grandparents who would chase him away from their shop any time he dared to try and buy food as a starving child, or the cousin who had beat him more times than the stupid man could count as adolescents. Alastor wondered if the man was still ignorant of their relation, or if his hatred was purely still based on learned animosity. Alastor wasn’t keen on finding out.

“If they should spot me, it’ll only cause a scene,” said Alastor. “It would be better if I didn’t show up at all and spare Grace any further heartache.”

Mimzy shook her head. “You not showing up at all, her knight in shining armor, would break her heart just as much. If not more.”

Alastor scoffed but Mimzy held firm, pulling him to a stop just steps away from the church. “No, I’m serious. What do you really think will happen if Gracie’s family were to see you in there today?” Alastor’s brows furrowed. “Sure, they’ll likely call you names, say real nasty things, maybe even try and kick you out, but this funeral here is for Grace and that shit husband of hers. If Grace says you should stay, what can they say? What can they do?”

Alastor felt anger simmer just below the surface at the naivety. “Oh yes, what could a room full of hateful white men and women do to a half-breed, that they hate for MANY reasons beyond just my skin color, do?” he hissed.

Mimzy deflated slightly, realizing her misstep but then she huffed. “You’ve handled worse scum then that lot inside. What’s a few old uppity white folks compared to the likes of you?”

Alastor crinkled his nose in annoyance. He bent down close to Mimzy, growling in her face. “And what do you suggest I do, hhm? I kill the whole room full of people should any decide to take matters into their own hands. What sort of consequences would you imagine that would incur?”

Mimzy opened her mouth but quickly closed it when no response was forthcoming. Her face turned sad, almost guilty, making Alastor feel guilty in turn but he quickly squashed that down. She knew he was right. Just neither of them were happy about it.

Alastor then sighed and stood back up. “Look,” he began. “We will be in and out, quick as a cricket. Make our appearance and then get out of there before any distant relations can make a scene.” If they were lucky. But his words seemed to appease Mimzy because she gave him a brief nod and retook his arm.

They walked through the church doors without incident, blending into the small gathering. Alastor looked around and didn’t see any of Grace’s family. He noticed a couple familiar faces, other employees from the Alligator Club, but that was about it. They made their way to the small group of employees who meandered into the church pews at the back. While Alastor would typically try to sit on the outer reaches of the group, he sandwiched himself between the lot to try and blend in, especially once he took his hat off.

They sat there for several minutes, waiting for the service as more people made their way into their seats. So far so good, he thought. If things continued like this, he very well might be able to get through the whole funeral without being spotted.

Not a moment after that thought, he felt Mimzy elbow his side. “Don’t look now, but there’s a broad givin’ you the eye to our left.”

Alastor turned discreetly to the left, where Mimzy was conveniently sat, under the guise of looking at her. Over Mimzy’s head, he spotted Grace’s mother. They locked eyes and the woman froze. While she looked as if she had been trying to determine if he was who she thought he was, she didn’t look surprised either when her suspicions were confirmed.

She muttered something to the unknown man next to her, all the while she didn’t take her eyes off him. The man then looked his way and Alastor internally cursed. He didn’t recognize the man, but he was just as white as the rest of them and clearly the two were talking about him. Grace’s mother’s mostly tolerant reactions concerning him may have changed over the years and decided her sons-in-law’s funeral was the time to make her opinions known.

And oh great, there they were now walking his way.

“Shitttt,” hissed Mimzy under her breathe. Alastor couldn’t help but agree with her, but he did not move.

He watched as the two maneuvered around others and through pews, stopping just by the pew Alastor and Mimzy sat at. The others looked curiously at the newcomers and then back at Alastor as he and Grace’s mother stared at each other, neither breaking eye contact. The Alligator Club crew fell silent, not knowing what was happening but clearly picking up on the tense atmosphere.

Then finally, Grace’s mother said softly, “You came.”

Alastor swallowed thickly but did not waver in his hard gaze. He nodded. “I did.”

The woman’s lips twitched, a small smile gracing her face. “Grace will be pleased.”

Alastor blinked then shifted slightly. His brows furrowed and he said, “I’m glad to hear that.” Grace had spoken of him to her family? Or maybe just her mother.

Grace’s mother must have picked up on his thoughts for she added, “She told me all about how you helped her when Clayton…” She trailed off as she frowned. The man next to her laid a comforting hand on her back. The two were clearly close. “And then she mentioned how you were there for her to comfort her when news of his death spread.”

Alastor raised a single eyebrow. “Did she?” he asked curiously, not letting anything slip about his involvement in the man’s death.

She nodded. “She then told me how you two have been friends over the past couple of years and how good you’ve been to her.” Her face softened and smiled. It was clear that she was pleased by this.

Alastor didn’t know how to react. Having any sort of approval of his friendship with Grace from ANY of her family was a surprise. Sure, Grace’s mother may have been the one he’d most expect that from, but it was still a strange realization.

He looked towards the man next to Grace’s mother and felt uncomfortable at being stared at by the mystery man. He was of similar age to Grace’s mother and wondered about his relation. Was he a family member from Grace’s mothers’ side? The man didn’t look anything like Grace or her mother but that didn’t mean much.

The man noticed the curious look and jumped to attention, extending his hand for a shake. “Sorry for my rudeness, the names Charles.” Alastor internally flinched at the name and the reminder of his old mentor. “But everyone just calls me Chuck.” Chuck. Yes, that is better.

Grace’s mother smiled and looped her arm with Chuck’s. “He’s my fiancée.”

“Oh?” Alastor said curiously. A new husband. It’s been years since her last and the word on the street was, she was never to remarry after the ‘untimely’ death of her first husband. For years, Alastor assumed she would be much like his own mother, forced to pine over the same man long after he had gone from their lives. But it seemed Grace’s mother finally found love outside of the wretched first. He wondered if his mother would have ever fully moved on if given the time.

The woman gave him a sad smile. “I know what you’re thinkin’. Actually getting remarried, am I?” She laughed. “Yeah, I never thought I would either.” She then turned and looked towards the altar where a picture of the deceased sat next to a casket. “But then recent events have put things into perspective and made it easier to move on.”

Alastor watched as she stared towards her dead son-in-law’s casket with a painful look. She didn’t appear pained though due to his death. Alastor looked at her curiously and wondered, was she more like his mother than he originally thought?

She then looked back towards him and gave him a sincere smile with moisture in her eyes. “I don’t think you realize just how thankful I am to you for taking care of my Gracie. After being raised by a single mother I worry that she may have grown up to be a little too much like me.”

Now Alastor was sure of it, his father hadn’t just been unbelievably cruel to his mother, but he had been to Grace’s mother as well. Something inside of him eased at that revelation. Guilt, he realized. Even after all these years, he still felt guilt over the death of his father. But realizing that his father had been cruel to his wife as well made any lingering guilt finally disappear.

Alastor’s shoulders relaxed and he offered her a small but genuine smile. He nodded his head towards the joined hands between Chuck and Grace’s mother. “Maybe that’s not such a bad thing. If we’re lucky, she’ll keep following in your footsteps and find someone better like you have.”

While speaking ill of the dead at their own funeral was surely some sort of cosmic bad luck, Alastor doubted that things could get much worse for him. Besides, that seemed to be the right thing to say to the woman for she beamed. Chuck in turn laughed and said, “While I appreciate the compliment you don’t know anything about me!”

Alastor hummed as his shadow hissed inside his head. ‘He’s sickeningly light, just like you already knew.’ While Alastor didn’t need the confirmation, it was good to know his initial judge of character of the man was accurate. Alastor smirked. “I don’t need to know anything about you to know that you are better in comparison.”

The man just nodded and graciously took the compliment. They then lapsed into silence and Grace’s mother and Alastor sobered. She sighed. “They don’t know.”

He knew who she was referring to but nothing more. “Know what, exactly?”

“That you are in Grace’s life,” she said. “That you two are friends and you were the one she went to when she needed help.”

He hummed then cleared his throat. “I doubt they would be pleased if they did.” He suddenly felt hyper-aware of the audience they had. All the employees from the club and the woman’s fiancée. While Mimzy was aware of all the intricacies of the conversation, he knew the others did not. Well, at least the employees didn’t. Based on Chuck’s facial expressions, he had a feeling he was more than aware of exactly who Alastor was to Grace.

Grace’s mother chuckled. “No. No they would not be.” The woman fell silent then and looked over Alastor’s head, frowning. Alastor hazarded a look over his shoulder and saw the rest of Grace’s family. He quickly turned back around, hoping to avoid drawing any attention to himself. When he turned around, Grace’s mother was giving him a sympathetic look. “I’ll do what I can to make sure they don’t realize you’re here. That way you can be here for Grace.”

She turned to walk away but without even realizing it, he got up quickly and grabbed her wrist. “Wait!” She froze, looking at him startled. He again felt conscious of who was listening and leaned close, whispering. “Does Grace know?” He tried to school his features into something nonchalant but knew that any pretense of that was lost with his frantic grab at the woman’s arm.

Her face softened and then she shook her head. “No,” she said just as softly. “I thought that should be up to you to decide.”

He felt unbelievably grateful for that, even more so than at her promise of keeping the rest of the family away from him. An anxiety was brewing inside him, one that didn’t feel that dissimilar to fear at the thought of Grace knowing the truth. He gave her a single nod. “Thank you, ma’am.”

She smiled up at him. “Call me Hope.” And then she walked away.

The others began to chatter curiously once Alastor sat heavily back down into his seat.

“Was that Gracie’s mom?”

“How do you know her?”

“What was that all about?”

Thankfully Mimzy shut them up real quick, barking at them to mind their own business and stop bothering their most loyal customer. He appreciated the help but knew it would all be in exchange for a private conversation between the two of them about what had just occurred. At least he would have less of an audience and for the time being he was afforded some peace and quiet.

Soon enough the service began, and Grace was ushered into the frontmost pew along with her mother, grandparents, and other extended family members. There was one older woman with a stern face that looked similar to Clayton. The man’s mother, he presumed, but that was the only family member of his own besides his widow.

Seeing Grace sit up there now was a strike to his heart. It was the first time he had seen her since Mimzy had taken her from his home days after they broke the news of Clayton’s death to her. Mimzy had taken her back to Grace’s own home before taking her to her mother’s.

While her injuries looked better, it was hard to miss the yellowing bruises that still lingered on her face and neck. Despite the miserable and tearful expression she wore, seeing her injuries only solidified the thought in Alastor’s mind that he had made the right choice. He looked at Grace’s mother, Hope, sitting beside her fiancée and nodded. Yes, he made the right choice. Grace now had the opportunity for something greater. Someone better.

And by God, he best be better than Clayton or Alastor would have to take matters into his own hands once more.

Thankfully the service wasn’t long, and the funeral came to an end. People began to get to their feet and trickled out of the sanctuary. The reception was scheduled to take place in a different part of the church, and Alastor wanted to make his quick exit.

“We have to say hi to Gracie first,” said Mimzy, reading his mind. “She’d be crushed if we didn’t at least do that.”

He grumbled under his breath, knowing she was right but not liking the thought of sticking around longer and increasing the risk of getting caught. Not to mention being at the funeral of one of his own victims was a strange enough feeling. Uncomfortable, really. It was time to leave.

“Fine,” he huffed. “But let’s be quick about it. And discreet.”

“Yeah, yeah. Keep the family away from ya. I already got it,” she said, steering him through the crowd and towards an out-of-the-way corner. “You stay here. I’ll be back.” And left before he could comment.

He waited patiently, feeling increasingly anxious as time went on. People meandered about, including the employees from the Alligator Club, but not once did he spot any of the family. They no doubt were close to Grace herself, making sure she was cared for, offering false words of sympathy for a man they disliked. That was at least one thing they all had in common, their distaste for the deceased but desire to be there for the widow.

‘Your friend is taking her sweet time,’ hissed his shadow. It twisted at his feet, eyes peaking open and looking up at him. Thankfully the corner was dark and out of the way so no one could see its odd movement.

She’ll be back soon, he thought. She’s just trying to find a way to get Grace alone and away from her family for a moment.

‘Every moment longer you wait here the higher chance you will be caught,’ it hissed.

“I didn’t realize you cared so much,” he mumbled under his breath.

‘You know I don’t. But any inconvenience to you is an inconvenience to me,’ it hissed. ‘The last thing you need is getting angry while surrounded by a crowd of bigoted relatives who wish you dead. If you were to lose your temper-’

“I won’t,” he growled, pulling at his jacket. “I’m not going to cause a scene.” For no other reason, then for Grace’s sake.

‘It may not be up to you,’ it hissed and then raised a wispy hand to indicate discreetly behind him.

Before he could even turn around, he heard a man’s voice gasp out, “You.”

Alastor looked behind himself and was met with the shocked expression of one of his childhood bullies. One of his cousins. The man’s crooked nose, broken from the flowerpot Alastor had thrown at him, crinkled in disgust. “What the Hell are you doing here? This is a private event.”

Christ, he thought. He had been so close. Just a couple more minutes and he would have gotten away, scot-free.

He turned around, standing up straight and not allowing himself to be cowed. “I was invited,” he said, matter-of-factly.

The man scoffed. “Let me guess, you were one of Clayton’s low-life friends.”

Alastor bristled at the implication that he was there for the degenerate and not Grace. But he made himself take a deep breath and not react impulsively. “I knew the deceased and I’m here to pay my respects. That’s all you need to know.”

The man shook his head in exasperation. “Just typical. Of all the days for you to show up and ruin everything, it just had to be today. Grace doesn’t need this.”

Alastor’s blood boiled. He wanted nothing more than to correct him but didn’t.

Then a couple women came by, standing beside the man. He recognized one of them as another cousin, younger, who had followed her older brother’s lead when throwing insults at him when they were children. “Darling, what’s the matter?” asked the other woman, clearly the man’s wife.

“Just some gink causing trouble,” said the man.

The man’s sister scowled. “I’ll go get dad.”

“No, get granddad,” he said.

Alastor sneered. “Yes, this seems like a problem for the Klan leader.” As soon as he said it, he knew it was a mistake even without his shadows hissed warning.

The man across from him gave him a cruel smile, made all the uglier by the crooked nose. “You want to deal with the Klan? Oh, I can get you the Klan.”

Alastor would like nothing more. Have the Klan, possibly even relations of his own, meet him at night with his shadow. He thinks he might know his next sacrifice to Her.

Ahh and speaking of the devil. It seemed that no one needed to go fetch the old man for he was walking as briskly as his decrepit self could carry him wearing a harsh expression.

“What is the meaning of this? You are not welcome here!” cried the old man.

“Apparently he was friends with Clay, granddad.”

“Of course he was. I’d expect nothing less of that girls damned husband. We always knew he associated with filth,” spat the old man.

Alastor growled lowly in his throat and took one step forward but was stopped by his shadow, rapping around his ankle in the darkness. ‘Enough!’

The old man smiled cruelly at him, viewing his aborted movement as fear. “That’s right. We all have heard about you and your rise to fame over the years. But no matter how you dress yourself up in your fancy suits with your fancy car and your fancy home, that filthy swamp is always going to be in you. Just like that disgusting harlot of a mother of yours.”

And that was it. The last straw.

With all his strength he pulled out of his shadows grasp and rushed forwards before he knew he had even moved. He grabbed ahold of the old man and shoved him up against the wall taking immense satisfaction at hearing the breath knocked out of him. He got up into the old man’s face, barring all his teeth in a snarling smile, making the man stare wide-eyed at him in shock and fear.

“You will not speak of my mother ever again,” he growled.

“Let my granddad go!”

“Unhand him!”

“We need help over here!”

Alastor ignored them in favor of intimidating the shaking man he had ahold of.

“I kn-new it,” said the man in a shaking voice. “I-I always knew that you were a violent heathen.”

Alastor shoved him against the wall once more, making the man whimper. “And where did I get that violent nature from, hhm?” He got close, hissing threateningly into the man’s face. “Because it certainly wasn’t from my saint of a mother who couldn’t harm a fly to save her life.” Alastor smiled wider, baring his teeth like a predator playing with its prey. “My father was always the violent one as you know. Tell me, grandfather,” he spit out, allowing the moniker to fall from his lips for the first time. “How many innocent men, women, and children have you lynched while hiding behind a white hood?”

‘The Mistress would be pleased with his sacrifice,’ hissed his shadow at the back of his mind, giving him an answer that it was more than enough.

“Alastor?”

They both froze.

He slowly turned and saw, through the crowd that was clearing for her, Grace, standing there in shock. He imagined he made quite the sight with a snarling face, pinning her quaking grandfather up against the wall. How long had she been standing there? What had she heard? Icy cold shock rushed from his heart to his fingertips, filling him with dread.

The old man cried, “Grace, darling. Stay back! I don’t want you to get hurt!”

Alastor blinked in shock and abruptly let him go. At the mere suggestion that he would do anything to Grace, God…

Her eyes were wide, and he couldn’t tell if it was due to shock or fear. Was she afraid of him? Did she think he’d try and hurt her too?

The old man shoved at him, rushing as far away from Alastor as he could, stepping between him and Grace as if to shield Alastor from her. The man’s other grandchildren were pushing in, shoving him back and away as well. Other funeral goers glared, some pulling away from him as if in fear while others pushed up against each other as if vying to get closer and do Lord knew what to him. All the while, Grace stared at him in alarm, her attention only being pulled away by her grandfather who was making a show of giving her comfort.

“It’s ok, Gracie. Everything will be alright.”

“What – what’s going on? I don’t understand.” She furrowed her eyebrows, looking between the old man and Alastor. “Why did he call you grandfather?”

There it was. She had heard. Fuck!

Voices began to rise in volume, many of which called for violence. This is EXACTLY what he had been worried about happening and he had only himself to blame for allowing things to come to this.

A hand then grabbed at his arm, and he jerked back, fearing the worst. But when he looked down it was to find Mimzy by his side, grabbing at his arm. Behind her were several others he recognized from the Alligator Club, all looking around in alarm and on high alert.

“Come on, Al! Let’s get the Hell outta here!” she said, scanning the increasingly agitated crowd.

He spared one final look for Grace. There was quite a bit of a distance that had been created between them now, she was barely viewable through all the people but still their eyes met. His heart ached but he turned away and grabbed a hold of Mimzy’s hand. “Let’s go!”

Without any further hesitation, they fled the church to the sounds of angry shouts.
___________________________________________________
Alastor took a sip of his coffee, relishing in the warmth and comfort it provided. It was sorely needed considering the presence he could feel having just entered his room in the distance. He pushed lightly at the floor, rocking his chair gently back and forth as he gazed out at his quiet bayou and listened to the soft jazz coming from his cane that leant against the wall.

It was finished. No more final touches were needed. The only thing that was off was the distinct lack of any sound. The bayou was as close to a recreation he could get without any of the wildlife. No soothing sounds of cicadas trilling throughout the swamp, no distant sounds of large wildlife dying and surviving. No hummed songs or sounds of cooking coming from inside the cottage. It was silent except for the creaking from his rocking chair.

His mother’s rocking chair remained empty beside him, as he always left it ever since he recreated his childhood home all those years ago during his early days in Hell. Granted, the entire bayou was almost always empty except for the few odd times when he had a visitor. His current visitor that was hesitating on the far reaches of the bayou’s threshold was the least welcome he had ever had. And yet…he was curious.

When Lilith had arrived back at the hotel the day before, coming from another meeting with Heaven, alone, Alastor’s curiosity first peaked. To say the Queen was distraught was an understatement. She was worried - no panicked, over the fact her daughter had run off after the meeting with Vox. Apparently, the meeting had been cut short, and an argument had ensued between the royals. An argument over what, no one knew.

Lilith remained tight-lipped and instead threw insults and accusations at Vox, the Angels, everyone but herself. The sheer vitriol spouted from her mouth made it clear to Alastor that whatever turmoil between herself and her daughter there was, Lilith was the one to blame.

And then when later that night, Charlie had returned home, very obviously drunk, with an equally intoxicated Vox and an irritated, yet concerned, Vaggie and Velvette, Alastor’s curiosity increased. And whatever hard feelings were between mother, and daughter clearly hadn’t subsided with the introduction of alcohol into the equation. Seeing the Princess throw drunken insults, without any clear coherence, WAS a delight. But seeing Vox so clearly intoxicated, twice within as many weeks, was a bit concerning. This was Hell, he reminded himself, there were plenty who were intoxicated regularly. And yet from his many years of association with the other Sinner, Alastor was more than aware of the complicated relationship Vox had with intoxicants, both during his life and afterlife. Vox…wasn’t well.

Allowing the Queen to continue her trek through his bayou was necessary. He wasn’t just curious, he needed to know what had transpired at that meeting.

While he allowed her to continue, he didn’t help her either. He could sense her as she struggled to row in the small boat. He doubted the royal had ever rowed herself, let alone in such a small boat. Alastor MAY have made things harder for her with the occasional tree root or log cropping up unexpectedly and blocking her way. But that’s just the nature of the swamp after all, wild and untamed.

As he reached the bottom of his cup, Lilith managed to make it to the dock on the edge of the property. She didn’t tie the boat off, but it would not leave unless Alastor commanded it. He had half a mind to make it leave but decided against it. He didn’t want Lilith in his room any longer than she needed to be.

‘You would be wise not to antagonize her too,’ hissed his shadow. It twisted at his feet, looking up at him disapprovingly. ‘We are supposed to have an alliance with her. Purposefully irritating is not conducive to such goals.’

Alastor scoffed. “Don’t try and act like you don’t have the urge to do so as well. You care for her even less than I,” he said quietly so as the sound wouldn’t carry over the yard.

There was no response but they both knew it to be truth. Alastor still pondered over the odd exchange between Lilith and his shadow when they finally convinced the Queen to officially aid them. There was a history there but not one he was privy to, which irritated him greatly.

Lilith walked up the couple steps to the porch and moved to take his mother’s rocking chair, but he raised his hand, stopping her. “Not there,” he said and indicated towards the bench by his other side. “You can sit here.”

Lilith’s brows twitched but she made no complaint. She sat heavily on the bench and turned to gaze out at the water. Silence descended upon them, but Alastor refused to be the first to break it. Not even their shadows made a sound.

“It’s quiet,” Lilith said softly. She sounded tired. “It’s eerie.”

Alastor sniffed. “Yes well, Her powers do have their limits. Creating this swamp is one thing. Recreating the wildlife and insects is another. Creating life isn’t within Her capabilities.”

For some reason, that made Lilith frown. “What of the trees? The plant life?”

Alastor’s brows furrowed. “Not real, of course. The water isn’t even real water. It might smell real and look real, but it is not.” He stared at her intently. “But you already know that.”

She was one of Her servants as well, after all. She had the ability to create such a scene, same as Alastor. If she had created anything, she would know that it’s not truly real, merely an illusion.

Lilith hummed. “Yes, I know. I just thought…” She trailed off. Alastor waited for her to continue but she eventually shook her head and sighed. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter,” she mumbled.

Silence once more. While the eerie quiet of the bayou no longer bothered Alastor, hadn’t for many decades, it was starting to grate on him. Usually, he enjoyed the silence on his own. But now Lilith had breached his calm serenity and since she had pointed out the obvious that his creation could never hold up to the real thing, he wanted anything but the silence.

“So,” he finally said with a huff. “Why are you here?”

Lilith gave a small smirk but did not turn towards him. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Alastor sneered. “You and your daughter are fighting. So what? What does that have to do with me?”

‘Careful,’ reprimanded his shadow in his head. ‘It’s one thing to feign disinterest. Do not push her away.’

Lilith frowned and finally looked at him. “For some ungodly reason, she trusts you.” There was clear distaste in her voice. “You could convince her to forgive me.”

Oh, isn’t that just a delight. Here the Queen was, asking for Alastor’s help. How the tables have turned! Alastor gave her his best Cheshire-like smile. “Oh? And why would I ever do that?”

Lilith glared at him. “Are we, or are we not, allies?”

“Against Her, maybe,” he said. “But that does not mean I am going to help meddle in your personal affairs.”

“This is NOT merely a personal affair!” growled Lilith. “This involves my daughter!”

“And some personal squabble between the two of you,” he said, nonchalantly. “I fail to see how this has anything to do with Her.” A concerning thought then crossed his mind and he shot a critical look her way. “Unless…it does.”

Lilith turning her head quickly back towards the bayou was answer enough. His heart skipped a beat, and his shadow hissed slightly. “Lilith,” he said slowly. “This argument doesn’t have anything to do with Her, does it?”

After several seconds of no answer, Lilith finally said, “It doesn’t NOT have anything to do with Her.”

Alastor sneered. “How incredibly vague and unhelpful. You come here, asking for my help, and yet won’t tell me the details of your argument only to THEN allude to the fact that She is involved somehow.”

Lilith shook her head. “I can’t tell you. She forbade it.”

“What’s one more secret between old friends, hhm?” Still, she did not answer.

Irritated, Alastor clicked his tongue. “Fine, if you won’t tell me then you can leave. You know where the exit is.” He got to his feet and turned to walk inside but stopped when he felt a warm hand on his wrist.

“Wait,” Lilith said with a small edge of desperation. “I do not know who else to go to.”

Alastor rolled his eyes and glared down at Lilith. “If you want anyone to convince Charlie to forgive you, you should go to the Angel. She’s her girlfriend and the one who knows her the most.”

Lilith scrunched up her nose in disgust. “I have had enough dealings with Angels to last an afterlife.”

“Yes, I suppose your husband is rather irritating,” Alastor said in jest. The glare Lilith shot him said she didn’t appreciate it. The comment made him turn to Lilith’s mysterious journey to Heaven on Her behalf, however, and yet another question was left unanswered. If Lilith expected him to help, she needed to offer at least some sort of answer in return. “But why not go to him then and ask for his help?”

Lilith looked away in shame. “Things are still…tense between the two of us since my return.”

“Yes, I suppose being abandoned by one’s spouse will tend to make things awkward for everyone involved,” he said. Lilith’s fingers twitched where they still held a hold of him. “I can see now why I would be your only option. But it still begs the question why you think I would help?”

Lilith turned and gave him a hard look. Even though she was the one sitting down and looking up, her gaze held all the authority of a self-righteous Queen. “We swore to help protect each other’s loved ones. Or does your Overlord truly mean so little to you? I should have known that your concern for him was false.”

Alastor growled, yanking his wrist out of her grip. “We said we would help protect Charlie from the Mistress, but I fail to see how getting her to forgive whatever transgression you committed against her would fall under that same promise.”

“Because I need her close!” yelled Lilith. “I need her to trust me so I can protect her myself! If she distrusts me then that leaves her vulnerable to Her!”

“That’s why I am here,” he said. “I can protect her.”

Lilith gave a humorless laugh. “Oh please! What hope do you have against HER? You may be able to help gather information but what chance to you have against the sheer power and might of the Mistress?? You wouldn’t stand a chance!”

“Nor would you!” shouted Alastor. He expected Lilith to fight back, continue their argument or even storm off, but he did not expect her to deflate. She looked resigned, defeated.

“You’re right,” she whispered. “The moment both of us signed our souls away to Her, any chance of survival we had was lost.” Her eyes crinkled and her mouth twisted in despair. “All the power, all the wishes She promised us, it all means nothing in the end, doesn’t it?” She looked up, meeting his eyes with watery, pleading eyes. “Doesn’t it?”

Alastor stared at her, not knowing what to say or what answer she expected. But it appeared she wasn’t expecting any real answer for she continued. “Or maybe it means everything.” She looked out over the bayou, her eyes searching for what he did not know. But searching, they were. “The things she is capable of, you don’t even know. She’s capable of so much more than just this,” she said, indicated towards their surroundings. “It’s terrifying. It’s horrifying.” She took a deep shuddering breath. “And it’s beautiful.”

Alastor’s brows pulled together, twisting in confusion. He looked down at his shadow who ignored him, instead solely focused on the Queen.

“The things She is capable of, I sometimes wonder if I never sold my soul to Her if anything would really be different,” Lilith said. “She is capable of such destruction and torment, I think that in the end, even if She did not own me, it would mean nothing. The torment and despair would still be there. Just…maybe in a different fashion.”

Alastor slowly sat back down, watching as the Queen appeared to almost unravel before him. “That’s why, even with the turmoil I have suffered because of Her over all these many years, the pain I have inflicted on others myself, losing myself in the process, I think…” She tilted her head, contemplatively. “It was all worth it. The price I had to pay; it was worth it in the end. Because…it wasn’t meaningless. None of it.”

What ludicrousness, Alastor thought. All the pain and suffering Alastor has experienced because of Her could NEVER be worth it. What did it get him? A one-way ticket to Hell. A trail of bodies lying in his wake. A dead mother. An estranged sister. A dear friend turned rival.

And yet, as he thought about it, how different his life may have been if he had never sold his soul. Would he have ever even met his sister and formed a lasting relationship with her? Would he have ever met Vox? Somehow, he doubted that he could have ever been destined for Heaven, but if he hadn’t sold his soul, there could have at least been a chance.

But is that something he ever even desired? He couldn’t imagine enjoying Heaven or its inhabitants. Alastor has been this same cruel and spiteful person for so long, he didn’t know anything else. He might not always be happy with himself but at least he was himself. His life has been one torment after another, and yet….it was his life. But that didn’t mean he felt any sort of gratitude towards Her for how it turned out.

‘What did She offer you in exchange for your soul?’ hissed his shadow aloud, startling him back to attention. His shadow was no longer lying on the floor, instead looming in front of them, staring intently at the Queen. ‘Tell us, what could have made all the pain worth it?’ There was a slight edge of accusation in its voice yet understanding.

Lilith stared wide eyed back, watery and pleading. “You don’t understand,” she said in a whisper. “I wasn’t like anyone else. Other mortals or even the Hellborn. They all had a chance. They had a chance of living, of being happy. My time in Eden was so short and everything was so new. I – WE – didn’t understand anything. We didn’t understand what sort of family drama we had unwittingly been pulled into, celestial beings far more powerful than we could ever hope to be. I did not fully know what sort of choice I was making while in Eden.”

‘Don’t try and act blameless, Lilith,’ hissed his shadow harshly. ‘You made your choices, and they were your own.’

“I was little more than a child!” she cried. “We all were! Brand new humans, familiarizing themselves with the world and each other like children. We knew nothing! The Angels too! The only difference was the power they wielded allowed them to make all the decisions for us!” Lilith stared at his shadow with an almost mad look in her eyes. “If I had known more, if I had known what I was giving up…” she shook her head. “I may not have made the choices I had.”

There was a hush that befell them all, his shadow still looming between them, staring at Lilith who was taking deep breaths. Lilith’s own shadow peaked out from below her feet but made no comment. Alastor watched them all, weary of making any sound for fear of preventing Lilith from divulging more.

‘You wouldn’t have chosen Lucifer?’ his shadow hissed quietly. ‘You wouldn’t have chosen the one you professed to love?’

Lilith’s brows furrowed.

‘You would have stayed with Adam,’ it hissed the disgusting man’s name cruelly. ‘You would have chosen a life with HIM?’

Lilith’s lips twitched, seemingly unsure of what exactly this response meant.

‘You think that choosing a life with him would have been better than a life as royalty in Hell? With Lucifer of all men? You think that serving as Adam’s wife would have been better than the life of luxury you have experienced??’ His shadow had grown slowly in size, darkening the walls and the surrounding swamp. The limited light had dwindled further.

‘You think that you know suffering, but you know nothing of what sort of suffering your life could have been! What TRUE Hell is like!’ Its voice echoed through the bayou eerily like a hundred voices speaking together. ‘Do not speak of things you know nothing about!’

“And don’t you do the same.” Lilith’s voice was far quieter than Alastor’s shadow, and yet it cut through the chaos like a knife. His shadow reared back, retracting its shadows back to itself yet they still twisted below their feet.

“You don’t know what it was like, watching all those souls arrive in your realm, all children of another,” Lilith said. “Children with children of their own. Children and brothers and sisters and parents. Families,” she choked out. “Something I had never had.”

His shadow hissed.

Lilith plowed on. “The concept was foreign at first, but it soon quickly became the norm for all the rest. Even to Lucifer the concept of a family was familiar. But children, that was never something he had ever even contemplated. Nor I. Not until we saw the first children in Hell. Granted they were Hellborn’s, but children all the same. And they were wonderful.”

Lilith smiled a sad smile, more painful than joyous. “We wanted children of our own and decided we would start a family of our own.” A tear finally sprung forth from one of her eyes. “But we could not.”

Lilith got to her feet abruptly, perhaps to hide her face from them or because she could not sit still any longer. She walked across the porch and leaned against the railing, her hands white-knuckled from where they held on.

“We tried, and we tried, and we tried, and nothing,” she said. “No matter how hard we tried, I couldn’t get pregnant, and we couldn’t understand why. It eventually became apparent that no Sinners could, only the Hellborn. It was one of the punishments of Hell. We thought that maybe, MAYBE, there was a chance that with Lucifer being a former Angel that things would be different for us, but we were wrong,” she said softly.

Alastor shook his head. “But clearly you weren’t. You have Charlie.” Right?

“I know,” she whispered.

“But then…how?” Alastor asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?” asked Lilith. “I made a deal.”

And then it all suddenly made sense. Alastor got to his unsteady feet and walked to the railing and grabbed on with his own iron grip. He looked out at his bayou and the uneasy silence. There were no animals or insects or any life. She was not capable of it. Creating life was His domain and His alone. Or was it?

“That’s what you asked Her for?” he said in disbelief. “To have a child.”

“Yes.” Her voice wavered.

“And she’s yours? Truly yours?”

“Yes.”

“How do you know?” He demanded. “How do you know she wasn’t some child that She took from another. Some Hellborn’s or another.”

“I grew her inside of me,” Lilith said simply. “Charlie is my own.”

Alastor’s mind was racing. It seemed impossible. The Mistress was skilled in many things but creating life was something he never expected She could do.

“How do you know that it wasn’t just a coincidence?” He asked. “That Lucifer’s angelic powers truly aren’t what made it possible for a Sinner to have a child in Hell?”

Lilith chuckled softly. “Believe me, with the number of times we had tried for a child, we would have gotten pregnant several times over in the past several millennia’s and not just once. Not to mention, right after I had made a deal with the Mistress.”

While he could do without the thought of the King and Queen in such comprising positions, he had to agree with her. The chances of it all to be a coincidence were highly unlikely. The Mistress had helped with the creation of Charlie.

It seemed rather unfair, if he really thought about it. Lilith received immense power and a child from the Mistress in exchange for her soul, meanwhile Alastor received a dead father and power in exchange for his soul and countless dead by his hands, all of which went directly to Her. Surely the Mistress wouldn’t allow Lilith to only give up her soul. She would demand something more.

Clearly, his shadow was thinking the same thing. ‘What more did She demand of you?’ it hissed from behind them. ‘What price were you required to pay besides your soul?’

“And what of you?” barked out Lilith over her shoulder. “What of your deal and price that was paid? We know nothing of it and yet you demand to know mine?!”

‘Yes,’ it hissed forcefully.

That was apparently argument enough for Lilith because she immediately deflated. She closed her eyes and hung her head in defeat. Alastor watched her out of the corner of his eye and somehow knew, whatever she was about to say was the crux of the issue. It was why she was here now.

“I-I,” her voice trembled. “I am the one responsible for the exterminations.” She choked on a sob. “I am the one responsible for the death of my people.”

Alastor felt like he had been struck by a truck. Lilith was responsible for the exterminations? How was that possible?

And yet, it made sense. Alastor’s price was to kill souls that were dark enough that if he killed them, they would go directly to Her. They gave Her more power, his shadow had said. Power. That’s always been Her desire. And what happened to souls that were killed during the extermination? They all went to Her. It was a far more efficient way for Her to obtain more power en masse. And if there was anyone who could deliver such a deal, it was one of great influence and authority. Just like a royal.

It made Alastor’s own deal and price seem inconsequential. Made him feel like all She had ever been doing was toying with him. What were the measly few souls he had killed for Her in comparison to the countless extermination that had been carried out by Heaven for centuries. Why did She ever even bother Herself with him? Why would She even care?

‘You’re the one who proposed the extermination plan to Heaven.’ It wasn’t a question, but Lilith answered his shadow anyways.

“Yes.”

‘You allowed the death of your people, all the while lying to them for years about working on a solution to stop the exterminations.’

“Y-yes.”

‘Does Lucifer know?’ His shadows tone sounded strained.

“No,” she said.

Some of the tension in his shadow oddly disappeared. ‘But your daughter does now, doesn’t she? She knows you are responsible.’

Lilith’s head dropped further, and a tear fell down, splattering onto the railing. “Yes.”

Of course she did. It explained the uncharacteristic ire that came from Charlie, accompanied by the sinly coping of turning to alcohol to drown her sorrows. While it hadn’t even been a full day, Alastor doubted that Charlie would forgive her mother as quickly as she had when it came to Vaggie’s betrayal. Of course, it wouldn’t when her mother’s betrayal went against everything she stood for. And Charlie didn’t even know that all those souls were the price for her life.

‘How typical,’ his shadow hissed – no growled. ‘What’s countless souls in exchange for your own selfish pursuit?’

Lilith whirled around then, coming face-to-face with his shadow. “She is my daughter! Don’t tell me you wouldn’t sacrifice everything for your own children!”

‘Don’t tell me what I would and wouldn’t sacrifice for my children! For humanity!’ shouted his shadow. ‘You, the selfish Queen, know nothing of sacrifice! NOTHING!!’

Lilith reared back, practically pinned against the railing as his shadow got into her face. The two stared at each other for several tense seconds in which Alastor did not know if the two would come to blows. Lilith’s shadow hid at her feet, barely peeking out from behind her in fear.

Eventually, his shadow shrunk down, drifting away from Lilith. The Queen took a discreet sigh of relief. Even Alastor relaxed slightly, unaware that he too had tensed up. While he held no love for Lilith, at the end of the day they still needed her help.

“I will speak with Charlie,” Alastor said. The other two turned towards him. “I will convince her to forgive you.”

Lilith noticeably relaxed then, letting out a sigh of relief. For the first time in years, she offered him the briefest smile and nodded. “Thank you.”

He simply nodded back.

“I will continue to keep your intentions with your Overlord quiet,” she said. “Just help me keep my daughter safe. I cannot lose her.”

While Alastor could not understand what it meant to be a parent, he understood the strong protectiveness one holds for their loved one. He would help Lilith as long as she helped him.

Lilith made her quick exit after that. He stood leaning against the porch railing with his shadow beside him. Together, they watched as she drifted from view through the trees.

“You knew, didn’t you?” he finally asked the question that he had been trying to keep from his mind throughout the conversation.

‘What part?’ it asked.

Alastor sneered. “You know very well what part.” You know everything that’s in my mind you bastard, he thought.

His shadow did not respond but then finally said, ‘Yes.’

Alastor shook his head in annoyance. “You always did call Charlie the ‘Abomination’. I always thought it was just because you despised her due to her relation to Lilith. But it’s more than just an insult.”

‘She should not exist,’ it hissed. ‘She is an amalgamation of an Angel, Sinner, and Her. Simply put, she is an Abomination.’

An Abomination. Yes. Maybe she was. And yet somehow, despite all of that and despite the realm she grew up in, Charlie was better than most. Better than perhaps anyone in Hell or even Heaven.

“You have no real intention of protecting her, do you?” he asked his shadow, shooting it an accusing look.

‘Do you?’ it countered.

He’d come to the hotel on Her demands, to obey orders of getting close to Charlie and protecting her. He would obey, of course, but he had no real desire to prevent her from seeing any harm. But then he had got to know the overly cheery Princess and somehow Alastor had started to do something he hadn’t done in years. Care.

When he had thought up the plan to threaten Lilith and threaten Charlie’s safety in order to get Lilith to aid him, his heart wasn’t really in it. To an extent, it was a relief to have his shadow step in and offer an alliance through more friendly means and an offer to TRULY protect Charlie and protect her against the Mistress too. While Lilith wasn’t wrong, he was no match against Her, the desire to protect Charlie was still there.

Clearly his shadow had followed that entire train of thought because it growled. ‘And what would you do should it come down to it? Her or him?’

Charlie or Vox.

The answer was easy, and he felt a twinge of guilt in the pit of his stomach.

His shadow sighed. ‘Do not feel guilty. Your reaction and desire to protect the one you care for most is only natural.’ It turned its head towards the river. ‘It’s anyone’s reaction. We often do things that go against our nature or our own desires for the ones we love.’

It made him think of all the other times he had attempted to do so. His mother had died in the end, her souls continued existence still in question. His sister fled her home to get as far away from him as possible. And then there was Vox.

Alastor swallowed thickly. “That doesn’t mean that I am not going to do what I can to help Charlie.”

‘I know,’ it said in resignation. ‘You have always been that way. Had a soft spot for those that others seek to take advantage of.’

Alastor shifted uncomfortably on his feet at the suggestion of him being anything less than the scary cruel serial killer he was. “Who’s to say there would ever be any real decision in the end? Between Vox and Charlie.”

‘There won’t be.’ It tilted its head back and forth. ‘At least not in the way you would think. The Abomination is not like your television. The Mistress will not use her as a means to simply control Lilith. The Mistresses designs on her are far too grand to have you or Lilith kill the Abomination in order to prove your loyalty.’

Alastor’s brows furrowed. “So, you do know what the Mistress intends for her.” He felt annoyed at being continually lied to.

‘No,’ it hissed. ‘I did not lie when I said She never shared her plans with me.’

Alastor glared at it. “That does not mean you don’t have your suspicions.”

‘It doesn’t take a genius to recognize that She has grand plans for the Abomination,’ it hissed. ‘You were not wrong in your belief that creating life is not within the Mistresses normal skillset. It is something she is capable of, but it does not come easily to Her unlike Him. To have accomplished such a feat would have exhausted much of her power.’ It tilted its head at him. ‘Now tell me, why would She do such a thing for anyone and then in the end simply kill Her creation for nothing more than loyalty?’

She wouldn’t, was the answer. The Mistress may have gotten Lilith to agree to facility the exterminations, replenishing any sort of lost power, but if his shadow was right and creating life was not easy for Her, then the Mistress wouldn’t just have Charlie killed. The Mistress had other plans when She made that deal with Lilith, and they involved Charlie.

‘I will tell you this much,’ his shadow hissed, getting close to stare directly at him. ‘There will come a time when protecting her will demand too great of a sacrifice. And you won’t be the only one that will have to make a hard decision.’
___________________________________________________
It had been over a week since the funeral and Alastor hadn’t heard from Grace once. She hadn’t arrived at the Alligator Club nor come to his home. Granted, Alastor hadn’t tried seeking her out himself despite Mimzy’s urging.

He’d mostly avoided the Alligator Club himself, preferring not to deal with any of the staff there after he was sure they had all been gossiping about the disastrous funeral. He’d been an idiot for going and thinking things wouldn’t have devolved as they had. And now, Grace’s head was surely being filled with all sorts of lies whispered to her by her family. And even if she was faced with nothing but the truth, she would know that Alastor had lied to her ever since they met.

On top of all of that, he was worrying about a possible fallout. He had very publicly shoved a decently wealthy white businessman up against a wall. Surely there would be some sort of fallout and yet over the past week, not once has any police officer, Detective Taylor or otherwise, banged on his door. Nor had any shown up at his radio studio. It seemed too good to be true. He was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

As if he had summoned it himself, there was a knock at his door.

He looked at the clock. It was late. If it were to be the police, he imagined it would have been earlier in the day. And yet, night had fallen, and this was closer to the time that less than legal vigilante justice is typically carried out. He wondered if it would be a mob of the Klan, allowed to come to his door without any police interference.

He contemplated sneaking out the back under the guise of his shadows, able to slip away without notice. He could always deal with whoever was at his door another day without drawing any further attention to himself. Find where they live, sneak into their own home and send their soul off to Her.

Yes, that would be good.

There was another knock, not loud like what he would expect from an angry mob. It gave him pause. Instead of slipping away, he drew closer to his front door. Then another knock, this time accompanied by a voice.

“Alastor? It’s me. If you’re home, can you please open the door? We need to talk.”

He stood frozen by his door. It was Grace. And she didn’t sound angry, or perturbed, or disgusted.

With some hesitation, he opened the door.

Grace looked at him as if she was surprised he had answered. She was alone. The bruises on her face had mostly disappeared, only the slightest discoloration could be seen around her left eye. She looked good. Better. And yet there was worry in her eyes like she feared he would slam the door in her face.

“Hi,” she said softly.

“Hello,” he said almost equally soft.

She shifted from foot to foot. “Can I come in? Please? Just for a couple of minutes and if you want me to leave after that I’ll go.”

His brows twitched but he stepped back, pulling the front door wider open. “Come in.”

She let out a sigh of relief and stepped quickly in. “Thank you. I know it’s late, but I just couldn’t wait any longer.”

Any longer for what, he wondered. He indicated towards the couch in his front living room. “Why don’t you take a seat and I can get us something to drink. Any preference?”

“Water will do,” she said gratefully as she took her seat and took her jacket off.

Alastor made a quick exit, collect himself as he poured them both glasses of water. He hesitated and then grabbed a bottle of whiskey and two empty glasses just in case. He carried out his tray before setting it on the table between the two of them. There was an entire empty couch beside Grace, but he opted for the chair across from her. Distance was smartest for whatever was about to come.

She thanked him for the water but didn’t say anything else. They lapsed into an awkward silence, both waiting for the other to start.

Then they both stumbled over their words, talking over the other.

“How have you-?”

“I just came here to-”

They both froze, Grace then laughing nervously. “You go ahead first.”

Alastor cleared his throat. “I was just asking how you have been? Since…”

Grace gave a sad smile and shrugged. “More of the same, I guess. Nothing has really changed, and I doubt I’ll be getting over Clayton anytime soon.” Yes, Alastor figured as such. “I’ve been staying with my mother though. She’s been helping. And not with just things about Clayton.”

“Oh?” Alastor could hazard to guess what she meant.

“She’s been telling me things,” she said. “Things about my dad and my grandparents. And you.” She looked up and met his eyes. Alastor took a large sip of his water and itched to pour the liquor. “Some things that I already knew. Some things that I could guess from the stories I’ve heard over the years. And some things…that I always could sense, deep down.”

She took a deep breath, collecting herself. Alastor sat silent, not daring to interrupt her.

“Ever since I first met you, back at the Alligator Club, I felt like there was a…connection there. I couldn’t explain it. I told myself it was just because it was you! Alastor the radio host! I’d been listening to you for years and was such a huge fan! I thought that it was nothing more than just me getting in my own head and imagining there was something more there than reality,” she said. “But as I got to know you more, I realized there WAS something there, I just couldn’t place my finger on it.” She gave a small chuckle. “For a time I thought, maybe, you were infatuated with me.”

Alastor began to choke as he took a sip of his water, disturbed by such an implication.

Grace laughed again. “Don’t worry, it’s that exact reaction that made me realize that couldn’t be it. So many others thought that may have been the case, Clayton included, but whenever anyone so much as hinted at such a possibility you always acted so horrified. I never took it personally because, for me too, the thought just always seemed sooo….absurd. Like it could never even be a possibility. The connection I felt with you always felt different.”

“Different?” he said, urging her on, curious as to what it was she had always felt.

“Yes, different. And I don’t think I was the only one who felt that way.” Grace scooted forwards, leaning as close to him as she could while still sitting on the couch. “Even with you having knowledge that I did not, you felt it too, right? That connection. That sense of…belonging. Like you couldn’t keep away because we were meant to be close. Meant to be family.”

“Family,” he whispered. He’d never had a family before outside of his mother. He’d had people he’d grown close to and yet never fully allowed in for one reason or another. Ainsley. Mimzy. Father Boaz. But none of them were family. Not really.

“Yes, family.” She reached across then, grabbing one of his hands and squeezing. “You’ve always felt more like family to me than my own family. My grandparents. My aunts and uncles. Cousins. All of my life, with the exception of my mother, I never felt like I belonged there. With them. Like they were just these – these people that I shared blood with and nothing else.”

Alastor barked out a laugh then, having to put down his water to hide his surely mad-looking smile. People she only shared blood with. Yes, he understood that all too well.

“But with you, it’s always felt different. Like it does with my mother.” Grace shook her head. “Growing up, I remember always telling my mother how I wished I had a sibling. A brother or sister to grow up with and be my lifelong friend. I didn’t understand it at the time but there were…clues. Like she wanted to tell me the truth then, but she kept herself from telling me.”

Grace frowned, looking upset. “She said in those early days she didn’t know for sure and had only heard rumors but then as I got older and she knew the truth she said she didn’t want to cause any trouble with my father’s family, or she thought it wasn’t her place or some other sort of ridiculous excuse…I-I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. But she told me the truth now.”

So much for it being Alastor’s decision to tell her the truth. But he couldn’t hold it against Hope given everything that had happened. She had kept the secret all these years, but it was no longer something anyone could keep quiet.

Grace stared at him with shining eyes, looking at him like he was everything she could ever hope for. “You’re my brother,” she whispered.

Alastor looked away, staring down at their clasped hands. He didn’t know what to say or how to respond so he simply said, “Yes.”

Grace must not have expected him to confirm it because she let out a quiet gasp. He could hear her struggling to remain calm, but she didn’t let go of his hand. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked in a trembling voice.

He shook his head, shrugging. “I-I never anticipated – ever - forming any sort of relationship with you. I never anticipated it, and I never had desired it and when it happened without me even realizing it, I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how you would even react should you find out the truth. The bastard unwanted child of a father you never even knew. Who would want that as a brother?”

“You think I would care that you’re a bastard? You think I would care about any of that?” she asked, aghast.

“I thought that considering your family, there was a high likelihood you would care because of who my mother was,” he said, looking up at her. She looked stricken and hurt. But he didn’t think it was an unfair assessment. She grew up with them, it wasn’t an unfair assumption to make that she would share their hatred.

She shook her head. “Maybe that would be understandable for you to think when you first met me but when you got to know me a little bit…what about then? Wasn’t it obvious that I didn’t care about the color of your skin?”

“As a friend maybe, but what of a brother?” he asked. “You can’t seriously tell me that you are happy to have a brother like me?”

“And why wouldn’t I?” she said with a scowl. “You are one of the kindest, most caring, protective people I have ever met. I would be a fool not to be proud to call you my brother and to have you think I would react differently is beyond hurtful.”

That was a blow Alastor wasn’t expecting. He didn’t anticipate having his own fears be turned back on its head. He ripped his hand back and got to his feet. “That’s not – I didn’t mean – don’t turn this back around on me! You can’t tell me that that fear wasn’t warranted!”

Grace frowned. “Maybe at first but when you got to know me you should have known better!”

“And what would you have had me do? Tell you the truth! Tell you that your family has kept my existence secret from you for years. Tell you what sort of hateful animals your family is and expect everything to be fine after that!” he yelled.

Grace got to her feet in turn, not backing down. “I know what hateful people they are! I grew up with them!”

“You know nothing!” he shouted. “You think you know but you don’t! You don’t know how deep-seated that violence and hatred runs through their veins. OUR veins! You don’t know the things they have said, the things they have done! That our FATHER has done! You can’t just expect me to shatter that world view of yours and not expect some sort of fallout from you and the whole filthy lot of them!”

His chest was heaving at the end. He hadn’t expected to shout and reveal so much. He hadn’t given her details, but he had revealed enough. And he had revealed enough of his own hatred that he could not ignore.

Alastor could hear as Grace’s light footsteps approached from behind him before stopping. A gentle hand was placed on his upper back. He forced himself not to flinch.

“You’re right. I don’t really know but I do have an idea,” she said gently. “And while I can never truly know what sort of pain, they have caused you, I only hope that you won’t look at me and see their same sins reflected back. Because Alastor,” she stepped closer, running her hand along his back to wrap him into a half-hug. “You’re my brother and I love you. I’ve loved you as a brother before I even knew you were one. And I only hope that eventually, just maybe, you could feel the same way about me.”

Alastor looked over his shoulder at her and saw her eyes shining with tears. Reflected back at him was anything but the sins of her family. Of their family. No, she was pure. She was good. Not like Alastor. He was the one to inherit that violence.

What was reflected back at him was just the same fear and worry Alastor felt. The fear of being rejected as kin.

It was the easiest thing in the world to finally give in and pull her into his arms and wrap her in a hug. She returned his same desperate embrace, clinging to his shirt. There was a dampness growing on his shoulder from where her face was buried and he worried that there was a growing dampness on her own. But they both ignored it, instead clutching at each other as if the other might drift away if either loosened their grip.

“I’ve never not felt that way for you, Grace,” he whispered. “You’re my sister and not even you could make me feel otherwise.”

Grace just clung to him tighter, her muffled sounds of tears drowning in his shirt. Thankfully, unlike when she had come to him for help after being beat by her husband, they were anything but filled with sorrow.
__________________________________________________________
A couple days after Alastor’s chat with Lilith, he overheard Charlie talking to Vaggie. He heard mention of the Queen’s name, and it piqued his interest. He dissolved into shadows and slithered close, the two completely unaware of his presence.

“It’s just hard to help you, babe, when I don’t know exactly what went down between you and your mom,” said the Angel in sympathy.

“I know, Vaggie, but I just ca – don’t want to talk about it. It’s something I just have to deal with on my own,” Charlie said, looking dejected.

“But you don’t have to,” said Vaggie. “You’re not alone and shouldn’t have to deal with it on your own. You always say how good it is to talk about one’s feelings.”

Now this was interesting. Charlie hadn’t even told her girlfriend why she was angry with Lilith. Charlie, the one who couldn’t keep quiet about ANY of her feelings, was bottling things up. Somehow, Alastor doubted that was her own decision.

Charlie’s brows pinched together. “I know, and I have.”

Vaggie then frowned, crossing her arms in an unconscious display of defensiveness and hurt. “Yeah, with an Overlord.”

Clearly not Alastor himself which left only one other option. And suddenly Charlie’s tight-lipped response to her situation with her mother made sense. Vox of course had to have witnessed the revelation that Lilith was responsible for the exterminations, resulting in their disappearance and impromptu night of drinking. And it seemed just like Vox to want to keep something like this quiet. It was a secret that would cause great turmoil should it get out. Capitalizing on any opportunities that should arise by keeping it secret would be just the thing he’d want to do. How clever.

“Vaggie, come on,” said Charlie. “I told you; I can trust him. He really has done a lot to help me.”

“Yeah, but I don’t understand why you would trust to tell him and not me, your own girlfriend.” There was real hurt in her voice then and no amount of trying to hide it would work.

“It’s not a matter of trust, really,” Charlie said pleadingly, trying to get her girlfriend to believe her. “It’s just – just, oh I don’t know, it’s all so complicated and I just don’t know how to handle it!”

Vaggie looked at Charlie sympathetically, her own distress being overshadowed by her concern for her girlfriend. She rubbed Charlie’s back, bringing her close. “I know, babe. I just wish you’d talk to me about it so I could try and help.”

“I know, and I really do appreciate it.” Charlie leaned into Vaggie’s side, basking in the comfort. “But I can’t talk to you about it, not right now! Maybe later, just-” she sighed. “Just give me some time, ok?”

Vaggie gave her a sincere smile. “Ok.”

Charlie returned the smile and pulled the other in for a tight hug. Alastor rolled his eyes at the display but continued to remain hidden in the shadows. The two eventually pulled apart, looking far more relaxed before Vaggie’s normal frown returned.

“Does this mean you’re still going to meet up with Overlord Vox tomorrow?” she asked.

Oh, now that REALLY was interesting.

“I mean, yeahhhh,” said Charlie sheepishly. “It’s not like we’re really even going to be talking about my mom or anything! I mean, she might be brought up, it’s just more to – you know – hang out!”

Vaggie snorted. “Charlie, people don’t just ‘hang out’ with Overlords. And if they do, they usually wind up with finding they’ve unwittingly signed their soul over to them.”

Never unwittingly, Alastor thought. The soul always must be aware of what they are doing. Doesn’t mean they aren’t manipulated, fooled, or lulled into a false sense of security resulting in the Sinners’ soul being sold. Not to say Alastor didn’t understand Vaggie’s sentiment.

“Vaggie, really, Vox isn’t after my soul. He’s just a friend.”

There were more discussions and disagreements over Vox’s intentions that drowned out to the background as Alastor had an idea. Charlie was to see Vox again, and by the sounds of it, in a casual setting. Just the two of them. Perhaps Alastor could simply tag along. Try and reconnect, get close to his old friend. While at the same time spending time with Charlie and maybe even working on his deal with the Queen. Yes, two birds with one stone.

Maybe finally, he could start working on a way to get rid of that pesky fly while also drawing Vox away from him. Make Vox see that he would be just fine without the insect. Make him see that Alastor was the far better option.

He only wondered if he should let Charlie know that he was inviting himself.

He could practically feel his shadow sigh in exasperation at the back of his head.

Notes:

In 1925:
Alastor is 35
Grace is 20

Historical facts and general information about this chapter:

The prohibition is going on during this time period and was enforced from 1920 to 1933.

The “Klan” referred to in this chapter which certain family members of Alastor’s are implied to be members of is indeed meant to be the Ku Klux Klan, an American Protestant-led Christian extremist, white supremacist, far-right hate group. It was founded in 1865 during the Reconstruction Era in the South. The group contains several organizations structed as a secret society, which have frequently resorted to terrorism, violence and acts of intimidation to impose their criteria and oppress their victims, most notably African Americans, Jews, and Catholics.

 

Well now everyone knows why Lilith proposed the extermination plan to Heaven and what price she had to pay for her soul. Which only leads further into the mystery of what exactly the Mistress wants with Charlie! ANNNDDD Grace finally knows Alastor is her brother! I really didn't want to drag things out any longer with that since we all know it as the audience at this point. Not exactly super interesting dragging it out any longer.

Again, sorry for such a long wait but hopefully y’all won’t have to wait as long now that I have officially moved and don’t have to stress about finding a place to live anymore. Yay!

As always, stay tuned for the next chapter!

Chapter 28: A Crew and a Lunch

Summary:

It's 1942 and Xavier is assigned to his B-17 Flying Fortress. He meets the rest of his crew, and makes a special connection.

In the present, Charlie and Vox meet up for lunch at Rick's Diner once more. They have an unexpected, and unwelcome, guest.

Notes:

Sorry about the slow update! Hopefully it won't be as long and I can get one more chapter out before season 2 premieres. I'm excited but just know that once it's released, so much of this story is just not going to even be a possibility. I'll likely add an Alternate Universe tag once season 2 happens because of that and hope no one loses interest as a result.

There really isn't any TW for this chapter I feel like.

1942

 

Xavier looked out at the airfield before him with a critical eye. His bag was slung over his shoulder, and he paid the passing service men little interest. The hustle and bustle of the combat crew training center was organized chaos, but a chaotic one none-the-less. It made it easy to blend in amongst the other uniformed men, all with matching haircuts and military fatigues. If no one looked at him for too long, he just appeared to be any other soldier.

 

He made his way to his formation, lining up with the other pilots he had trained alongside. While a few chatted amongst themselves, buzzing with excitement at the anticipation of being assigned to their individual crews, Xavier kept to himself. He preferred it that way. He hadn’t joined the military to make new friends.

 

Unfortunately, his peace was disturbed when a strong hand came down on his shoulder. Fortunately for him, it was about the only other airmen that he had tolerated over the past couple of months.

 

“You seen the others?” said Langley from over his shoulder. He was facing out towards the other service men, those who had not been trained as pilots as they had. “The lot of them look like literal babes.”

 

Xavier snorted. “As opposed to you?”

 

The twenty-six-year-old shot him a faux offended look. “Just because you’re practically a dinosaur yourself doesn’t mean I’m an infant.”

 

Xavier rolled his eyes. Langley came to stand beside him, still staring out at the crowd with an assessing gaze. His dark brown eyes and thick dark eyebrows gave him a severe, serious look. While he was a more serious character, it was one of the reasons why Xavier tolerated him above the other naïve and energetic pilots, underneath Xavier knew that there was a wicked wit and heart of gold.

 

“Look at that one over there,” said Langley, pointing towards a blonde service man. “What position do you think he could have possibly been trained for?”

 

The man, more boy than anything, was tall and gangly. A string bean with no facial hair in sight. Xavier doubted the boy even had the ability to grow one. Xavier looked away in disinterest, muttering sarcastically, “Nothing more than cannon fodder.”

 

Langley shot him a disapproving look. “Be nice. The poor boy looks more eager than a whore on Sunday. It’s not his fault he looks like his balls barely dropped.” Langley then grimaced. “Although, I DO pity whatever crew gets saddled with him.”

 

“Better you than me.”

 

“Hey,” said Langley, elbowing him in the side. “Says who he won’t be saddled with both of us, my lovely co-pilot?”

 

Xavier raised a brow and side-eyed the other. “If anyone is going to be the others co-pilot, it’ll be you.” Langley laughed. “But it’s not likely command is going to pair us up together. We’re two of the best pilots out of our class. Surely, they’ll split us up and make us pilots of different crews.”

 

Langley hummed and shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. They might not want to split up the dream team.”

 

Wouldn’t that be a relief. Xavier didn’t much like the idea of being paired with any of the others. He couldn’t stand most of them, nor they him. The idealized view they collectively had of the famous movie star joining their ranks was shattered on day one with his gloomy demeanor and cutting remarks. He wasn’t the charming and pleasant celebrity that Harvey had taken years to build him up to be in the eyes of the public. The gossip whispered, none-too-quietly, behind his back about his Grace didn’t help his attitude either.

 

Langley was about the only one who didn’t directly ask him to his face about his wife’s murder. As such, he was about the only one he hadn’t punched in the face. While command might not split them up due to how well they work together, it was more likely they wouldn’t break them up because Langley was the only one who could tolerate him.

 

“ATTENTION!”

 

Everyone stood at attention upon hearing the command, all conversation dying at once. Out walked their new colonel, followed by other high-ranking officers. They stopped before the men, the colonel shooting a scrutinizing look their way.

 

“Gentleman,” he said, his voice booming and carrying over the crowd. “My name is Colonel Swartz, and I am your new commanding officer. Welcome to the 90^th bombardment group. Today each of you will be assigned to your new crews that you will train with for the next couple months before any of you can be deemed ready for combat.”

 

Colonel Swartz looked over each man, his severe gaze putting Langley’s own gaze to shame. Every man stood as ramrod straight as possible, in fear of being seen as lacking before their commanding officer. “Your crew will be your new family. You will trust them with your very life. Trust and loyalty will be the foundation you will build upon and without it…” The Colonel paused, not a sound could be heard. “You will be dead.”

 

How cheery. And yet no one flinched.

 

The officers began to call out names, assigning them to their new crew and squadrons. With over two thousand men present, it was a lengthy process.

 

Xavier’s back was beginning to ache by the time he heard his name called out.

 

“Assigned to aircraft with serial number 41-21207, pilot Xavier Vox.” There were a couple of murmurs at his name, and he stiffened. “Silence!” cried out the colonel. Once hush fell over the crowd once more, he continued as if nothing had happened. “Co-pilot, Spencer Langley.”

 

He heard a sharp intake of air from beside him. Xavier couldn’t help but let out a small sigh of relief at having been paired up together. He was so relieved that he didn’t even hear the other names assigned to his crew. It didn’t matter. He didn’t know the men, nor did he care.

 

Once everyone’s assignments had been announced, they were released from formation and sent to their new living quarters. It wasn’t much better than the last, shitty beds shoved together in a tiny room that afforded no privacy. Each squadron was put together, forcing multiple crews to live together.

 

Xavier threw his bag onto a vacant bunk, flopping down on top of it and sighing as he closed his eyes. Langley took the bunk beside him. “Looks like we really did end up getting saddled with the string bean.”

 

Xavier hummed. “Yippy.”

 

“On the bright side, we got saddled with the giant behemoth that the kid seems to follow around like a pup.”

 

Xavier cracked open one eye, looking towards where Langley indicated. There was the string bean beaming up at another service man who seemed to tower over him and all the rest.

 

Xavier stared at the man. He chatted with the skinny kid, giving the boy a wide grin. Even from across the room, Xavier could see the prominent dimples and smile lines. The man threw his large bag onto a bed with little effort, his forearms thick and clearly quite strong. His hands looked strong too. They were large with long fingers. The man then pulled his jacket off, affording Xavier a better look of the man’s broad chest and arms, revealing more tan olive skin.

 

The man then looked up, catching Xavier’s gaze. Xavier froze, feeling like a child caught doing something they should not. Instead of being scolded, however, the man shot one of his wide grins at him, pearly whites and all. Xavier looked away quickly and felt his face burn. He internally chastised himself. It’s not like he was doing anything wrong; he was only looking.

 

Xavier then looked towards Langley and saw him watching him with an unreadable expression. Xavier cleared his throat and said, “He certainly looks like he could crush any Nazi’s skull if he needed to.”

 

Langley continued to look at him for another second but mercifully he seemed to take the bait. He snorted. “Fat lot of help that’ll be up in the air. Not many krauts we’ll be coming into contact with, face-to-face.”

 

“Not unless if we get shot down,” he said.

 

Langley stared at him in horror. “What the Hell do you think you’re doin’, puttin’ that out there? You’re going to speak it into being!”

 

Xavier sighed, rolling over and away from the other. “Calm your superstitious ass down. I’m not speaking anything into being.”

 

“You better knock on some wood right now, I’m tellin’ you.”

 

Xavier waved him away. Langley got to his feet and grabbed Xavier’s shoulders, forcing him back onto his back. “I’m tellin’ ya,” he said with wide eyes. “Knock on that wood right now.” He pointed towards the small wooden table directly between their bunks.

 

“Alright, alright!” cried Xavier as he knocked. “Now get off of me, you crazy.”

 

Langley sighed and sat back down. “You can call me crazy all you want, I ain’t tempting fate with something like this.”

 

Xaiver shook his head in exasperation. While Langley was the most tolerable out of the other pilots, Xavier could do without his overly superstitious self. Although, he supposed it had more to do with the man’s belief in the otherworldly. Something to do with having a paganistic mother.

 

Langley then gave a furtive look towards the slowly growing group of men that had gathered a couple bunks away, all of which had been staring at Xavier since he flopped down onto his bed. Like the tan-skinned giant, Xavier had resolutely been ignoring the stares.

 

“Looks like the wayward fan club is already forming.”

 

Xavier sighed and closed his eyes once more. “Ignore them. Looking at them will only encourage them.”

 

“Maybe addressing them now is a good idea. Get it out of the way and all,” said Langley.

 

“Shatter any delusions that I’m the charming, friendly actor they think me to be?”

 

“Yeah,” Langley said. “Something like that. Although, some of them look like they may be our new fellow crewmen. Being an outright ass to them is probably not the best idea.”

 

Xavier huffed. He didn’t know if he agreed with that, but he kept silent. Unfortunately, his peace didn’t last long for one of the men seemed to finally get up the courage and decided to approach.

 

“Uhh, excuse me Mr. Vox?” Xavier had to restrain himself from groaning. He opened his eyes and glared at the man who wasn’t swayed. “I just wanted to tell ya that I loved your work in ‘Frank Hadly goes to New York’. It’s a classic!”

 

“Yeah! And what about ‘The Battle of Saint-Mihiel’?” said another. “That’s gotta be one of your best!”

 

“Of for sure! And ain’t that a riot. Here he is as another pilot. Ain’t that wild, Ace?” The group had decided to approach, crowding around his and Langley’s bunks.

 

“He ain’t no, Ace. That’s for fighter pilots, idiot. He’s a B-17 pilot now.”

 

“Oh right.”

 

They kept on like that, none dismayed from his lack of response. He just turned and gave Langley an ‘I told you so’ look.

 

“Save your breath, boys. He ain’t the perfect star you think he is.” Xavier turned to see one of his fellow pilots several beds down, unpacking. Carlson. Young and arrogant. Still held a grudge since Xavier sucker-punched him in the middle of breakfast.

 

“If you ain’t careful, you’ll lose a tooth around him.” And there was Madison, the dick. Great, the two of them just HAD to be in his squadron.

 

“Yeah, with good reason,” bit out Langley. “You start runnin’ your mouth and you better expect a fist to the mouth.”

 

“Runnin’ my mouth?? You say ‘good morning’ to the man and you best expect to be hit.”

 

Langley snorted. “Don’t play dumb, Nick. You know what you did.”

 

“What??” cried Madison. “I ain’t done nothin’ wrong. All’s I said was your wife-”

 

Xavier abruptly sat up then, glaring at his fellow pilot, cutting him off. “If you dare repeat yourself, Madison, I’ll make you lose a couple extra teeth.”

 

In the end, it was a fight that had nearly ended with Xavier being discharged. But seeing as there was a war going on, they let it slide with some disciplinary action. Madison had always been good at running his mouth, and once he got alcohol in him it was even worse. One thing led to another, and Madison had done more than suggest that Xavier had something to do with his wife’s death. It didn’t matter that Madison had no idea that Xavier was close by, listening to every word. He was more than aware Xavier heard everything though when he found himself on the floor with fists repeatedly connecting with his face. Suffice to say, the violent reaction didn’t help with dissuading any whispers of foul play regarding Grace.

 

Madison glared back, not deterred in the slightest even with the gapping hole between his teeth. He opened his mouth to argue further but was cut off suddenly when a large hand came down forcefully on his shoulder. He looked up and saw the olive-skinned giant stare down at him. Madison’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped.

 

“Now, I ain’t ever been married myself but I think it’s a pretty universal thing that you shouldn’t badmouth a man’s wife to his face,” he said in a deep gravely voice that sent shivers down Xavier’s spine. “And I don’t know what it was you were about to say, but I think everyone can pretty much guess it wasn’t about to be pleasant.”

 

Madison continued to stare wide-eyed up at the giant, not daring to utter another word. “I think,” said the man slowly as his fingers on Madison’s shoulder flexed ominously. “That it is within your own self-interest to keep your mouth shut.”

 

Madison nodded vigorously. The other man then beamed at him, smiling that same dimply smile. Even at a closer distance, the grin was radiant. “Splendid.” He patted Madison’s shoulder who buckled slightly under the strength of the blow.

 

“Now,” he said, looking up and addressing the rest of the small crowd. “I think it’s about time for everyone to go about back to unpackin’, don’t y’all agree?”

 

Without further comment, everyone began to disperse with the exception of a small group that still lingered. Xavier wasn’t even annoyed, he was so focused on the man who had looked ready to bust Madison’s skull.

 

“Damn!” cried a ginger with incredibly pale skin and a swathing of freckles across his face. “Now wasn’t that impressive! Where did they grow you?”

 

The man laughed. “Homegrown in Houston, Texas.”

 

“Yes, but I mean, where are you FROM?” the ginger said, with emphasis.

 

“Murphy, I swear to God, you better shut your Irish mouth,” snapped a short and stocky man with a strong jaw. “The man’s American, just like you and me. Don’t matter where his parents are from.”

 

The ginger, Murphy, rolled his eyes. “Calm down, Spinelli. I’m only makin’ conversation.”

“Spinelli?” cried one of the others. It was the young man who had so boldly called Xavier, Ace. A brunette with a hooked nose and a toothy grin. “We got an Italian on our crew?” he asked with a scrunched-up nose. Ah, so that’s why these men still lingered. They were all members of his crew. “You even gonna drop a single bomb when ordered to?” Spinelli growled.

 

“Great, an Italian bombardier and a kraut for a colonel,” said a blonde with striking blue eyes. “’Swartz’? Really? We really going to allow some German be our commanding officer?”

 

“You’re one to talk,” said a larger man with kind green eyes. “Look at you,” he said, addressing the blonde. “You look like Hitler’s wet dream.” The blonde stared at him, horrified.

 

Spinelli huffed and glared at the lot. “The Colonel is just as much American as I. Our last names don’t mean we ain’t loyal to our country.”

 

“Yeah, but what about his parents?” Said the brunette. “They might have been immigrants. I heard that Hitler is calling for all ethnic Germans to return to the ‘Fatherland’ and fight. Who’s to say he hasn’t answered that call and is now opperatin’ as some sort of spy.”

 

A man with a pare of thick glasses and a narrow face stared at the ginger with a raised brow.
“Seriously? You think our commanding officer is a Nazi spy?”

 

“I’m just saying! It’s not out of the realm of possibilities!”

 

“Sounds like you’re just paranoid.” It was the string bean that time.

 

“Damn right I’m paranoid!” cried the brunette. “I don’t want any Nazi’s near my Jewish ass! You know, except for the one’s I’m gonna shoot down!”

 

“Hey, I hear that!” said Murphy. “You’re the tail gunner, right?”

 

The brunette nodded. “That I am. Daniel Cohen’s the name.”

 

Murphy stuck out his hand for a handshake. “I’m Thomas. Flight engineer and top gunner.”

 

“I’m the ball turret gunner,” said the blonde, butting in. “Gary. Gary Smith.”

 

“Smith, eh?” said the man with the green eyes. They were dancing with mischief. “You sure it ain’t Schmidt? Hitler’s little Aryan dream.”

 

“No!” cried Smith in indignation. “It’s just SMITH.” He huffed in annoyance. “And what about you, tubby? What’s your name?”

 

The man glared at the insult to his weight, getting into Smith’s face, effectively cowing the smaller man. “The names Jones, not tubby.”

 

Smith nodded quickly in understanding. The man with the glasses chuckled. “Come on, Frankie, don’t intimidate the kid. He clearly doesn’t have many brains. He’s just a gunner after all.”

 

Jones smirked. “You’re right, Harold. Not everyone can make it as a radio operator and a navigator.” He slapped his hand on glasses’ back. “This here’s Robinson.”

 

“I’m the one that’ll make sure we don’t get lost,” Robinson supplied.

 

“Hey now, no need to insult the rest of the gunners just because one got a little mouthy,” said the giant. He then turned to Murphy and smiled. “And I’ll give you a little bit of a hint. The last names Ramirez.”

 

Murphy smiled and shook his hand as well. “Nice to meet ya, Ramirez.”

 

The string bean stepped up, throwing his arm around Ramirez, pulling the taller man down awkwardly. “Let me tell ya, Ramirez here is one of the best damn gunners out there. He can shoot a fly right out of the sky with his eyes closed!”

 

Ramirez laughed. “Come now, Ricky. Don’t be talkin’ me up too much. Don’t want to give everyone unreasonable expectations.”

 

“It’s true,” cried the string bean. ‘Ricky’, apparently. “I’ve seen it with my own eyes!”

 

Ramirez rolled his eyes good naturedly. “You exaggerate too much, kid.”

 

“So, it ain’t true?” asked Langley, finally entering the conversation. While his perpetually scowling face looked anything but pleased, Xavier could see amusement in his eyes.

 

“Well,” began Ramirez slowly. “My eyes weren’t closed.”

 

Many of the others laughed and made comments of praise.

 

“What about you, kid?” asked Smith, who didn’t look much older than the other. “You gotta be our other waist gunner. You got much skill at shooting fly’s out of the sky?”

 

Ricky froze. “Uhhhh….”

 

Ramirez laughed and slapped a hand on the kids’ back, making him lurch forward and cough. “Rockwell will get there. He might not have as much skill as me but he’s young.”

 

Rockwell smiled bashfully and rubbed his arm, staring admiringly up at his fellow waist gunner. Follows him around like a puppy, indeed. Xavier rolled his eyes at the whole lot of them, just knowing they were going to get on his nerves endlessly. He leaned back on his bed, crossing his arms behind his head and closing his eyes. Hopefully they’d all disperse with the rest and go about their own business.

 

Unfortunately, Ramirez decided to draw him into the conversation. “And what about you two?” he asked. “Our pilot and co-pilot.”

 

Langley stood up and reached over the top of Xavier to shake Ramirez’s hand. Xavier huffed in annoyance. “Spencer Langley.  Your co-pilot. Pleasure to met you.” He sat back down on his own bed and indicated towards Xavier with his chin. “I was just telling Vox here that you look like you could bash some Nazi skulls in. Didn’t realize you’d be doing the same to our fellow service men.”

 

Ramirez laughed at the reference to the brief confrontation with Madison earlier. “Oh, that was nothin’. If you want to see some skull bashin’, just you wait. You ain’t seen nothin’ yet!”

 

“Can’t wait,” said Langley. “But we do appreciate it. Madison’s known for running his mouth and he’s had it out for Vox since their fight months back.”

 

Xavier glared at Langley for airing his dirty laundry in front of all these people. Langley either didn’t notice or chose to ignore him.

 

“Really?” asked Cohen, eagerly. “What was the fight about, Ace?”

 

Ugh. That stupid name. He dearly hoped that wasn’t going to become a thing.

 

“You idiot,” said Spinelli, hitting the other on the back of the head. “You not been paying attention?”

 

Realization dawned on Cohen’s face who opened his mouth in a wide ‘O’. “Ohhhhh, riiiiight. Your wife.” His face then slowly turned bashful as the reality of the situation became apparent.

 

Silence fell amongst them as everyone remembered that his wife was dead. Some shifted awkwardly and everyone avoided his eyes.

 

Xavier felt white hot anger, boiling just below the surface. There he was, laying back as everyone talked over him like he wasn’t there. What was it about people meeting celebrities and acting as if they weren’t human? As if they were entitled to their time and conversation, even when it came to personal matters they had no business getting involved in.

 

Xavier brought his hands down forcefully onto the thin mattress, forcing himself up into a sitting position, startling a couple of the others. His brows were furrowed, and he made sure to make eye contact with each one of them as he glared.

 

“Let me make this quick,” he growled. “Yes, my name is Xavier Vox. Yes, THAT Xavier Vox. My wife’s name was Grace Vox, and she was murdered.” A couple flinched which only enraged Xavier more. “I’ve already heard all the rumors there is concerning her death and if any single one of you utters any of it in front of me or even utters her NAME, I will make sure a couple teeth isn’t all you’ll lose.”

 

Everyone stared at him wide eyed but none of them uttered a single word. After several seconds Xavier laid back down, closing his eyes even as he maintained his scowl.

 

Langley finally grunted. “Alright everyone. It’s been nice meetin’ you all, but I think it’s getting’ about that time for some food. They’ll be serving dinner in the mess hall.”

 

Xavier could hear the others shuffle off, muttering quietly amongst themselves. He could practically feel Langley hovering next to his bed, but Xavier refused to open his eyes. “You want anything from the mess?” asked Langley.

 

“Not hungry,” grunted Xavier.

 

“Alright,” Langley said. “Well, you know where to find me if you need anything.”

 

He too soon wondered off, leaving Xavier to lie in silence but even after he left, Xavier could still feel someone staring at him. He cracked one eye open and saw Ramirez was still there, staring at him. Xavier startled slightly at seeing him still there.

 

“Jesus Christ,” he said. “What the Hell are you still doing here?”

 

“I just wanted to let you know that if you needed help busting jaws to let me know,” said Ramirez. “All I gotta do is glare at them and they’ll fall in line. I’m happy to help.”

 

And he really did look like he would be happy to help, with his dimply grin. “Thanks, but I think I’m good,” said Xavier. He tried not to look at the man but this close he couldn’t help but notice the man’s chocolate eyes, sprinkled with specks of gold. They were warm and kind. The man’s eyes and bright smile were a stark contrast to his muscular and intimidating size.

 

“Well, if you do need help, just let me know. Can’t have our pilot be getting’ into any trouble,” he said.

 

Xavier hummed. “Right.” He stared at the other out of the corner of his eyes. “Ramirez, was it?” he asked, knowing fully well it was.

 

He chuckled. “Yeah, it’s Ramirez.” He took a step closer, extending his hand. Xavier took it and tried not to react as his smaller hand was engulfed by the warm and firm, yet surprisingly soft, hand. “But you can call me John.”

_________________________________________________________

 

Vox stared at the small hairline crack in the corner of his screen.

 

Goddammit, Valentino. The bastard just HAAADDD to throw a coffee mug at his face less than thirty minutes ago. Vox looked at his watch again and saw that he needed to leave in the next five minutes if he wanted to get to Rick’s on time to meet Charlie.

 

He could always cancel, he thought. Come up with some excuse as to why he couldn’t make it. He was a busy Demon, and an Overlord to boot, it wouldn’t be hard to come up with an excuse.

 

But then again, he didn’t want to. Their last meeting was the most fun and carefree he had felt in he didn’t know how long. Sure, the night hadn’t exactly started off great with Heaven’s meeting but by the end of the night that all seemed inconsequential. He might have had a splitting headache the next day and a pissed off Velvette to deal with but at least it wasn’t a pissed off Valentino.

 

Vox sighed. The crack was small. Barely even noticeable unless you looked at it at just the right angle under the right light. It was mainly only noticeable to him due to the still lingering throbbing in his face. Charlie wouldn’t notice, right? She was decently oblivious. Rick probably wouldn’t even notice. Gloria though…

 

Well, if he just made sure he sat with the crack closest to the wall and away from her he was probably in the clear. Yes, definitely in the clear.

 

Ugh, he really needed to keep spare screens on hand. But then again, the last time he did that Valentino just took a bat to every single one of them, costing him way more money.

 

Vox placed an order for a new screen on his phone as he made his way downstairs and into his limo. “Rick’s Diner,” he said to his driver without looking up.

 

There, done. Order placed. The screen should be waiting for him when he returned. That’s as long as Valentino doesn’t smash it before he gets back. Granted, the reason Valentino threw the mug was due to his irritation at his own workers, not Vox. If he had been truly angry at Vox, then he DEFINITELY would have had to cancel. Thankfully, Valentino had seemed more preoccupied with Adam over the past couple of weeks. While a nice reprieve, it didn’t exactly sit right with Vox. He’d seen the two of them holed away in Valentino’s apartment and studio on more than one occasion. He didn’t know what they could possibly be talking and scheming about, but it couldn’t be good.

 

It was a short drive to Rick’s Diner with it being right on the outskirts of his district. Seeing that same greasy diner pull into view made him smile. Worries of Valentino and Adam would have to wait.

 

There right in front of the store front was Charlie’s own limousine. Always so punctual. “Go ahead and park across the street. I’ll walk across,” he said to his driver. “I’ll call you when I’m ready to be picked up.”

 

“Of course, sir.”

 

Vox stepped out, walking briskly across the nearly deserted street, smiling as he came around the corner of Charlie’s limo only to stop in his tracks at seeing the scene before him.

 

“Alastor, we’ll talk about this later,” said Charlie with no small amount of panic. “But really, right now you need to leave before Vox shows up!”

 

Unfortunately, Charlie’s back was to Vox which meant Alastor had a perfect view of Vox as soon as he walked around the corner. The two locked eyes and Vox felt his heart lurch.

 

This was the first time he had seen Alastor in person since their fight. Since Vox had nearly killed him. Since Vox had thrown the antidote at his feet, leaving everything up to fate.

 

He had to restrain himself from fleeing.

 

“Ahh, looks like it’s too late, dear!” said Alastor with that same cheery voice, practically dripping with insincerity. He dissolved into shadows and suddenly reappeared next to Vox, throwing his arm around Vox’s shoulders and dragging him off balance. “Vox, my old pal, we’ve been waiting for you!”

 

Sparks ran up and down his body, causing Alastor to let go abruptly and blink rapidly at having been shocked. However, outside of that and his slightly staticky hair, he seemed otherwise unaffected. Vox wished he could say the same for himself because what the actual FUCK?!

 

The last time they saw each other they literally tried to kill each other. Or well, something approximating that. It didn’t change the fact that if it wasn’t for Velvette, Alastor would likely be dead right now. And Vox still didn’t know how he felt about that.

 

And wait a second, what did he mean by ‘WE’VE been waiting for you’?

 

Vox’s head whipped towards Charlie who was standing with a guilty look. “Wait, hold on! Let me explain!”

 

“You INVITED him?!” shouted Vox. Saying he felt betrayed would have been an understatement. His heart ached at the old, familiar feeling.

 

“NO!” shouted Charlie. “He just showed up unannounced! I swear! I never would have agreed to bring him otherwise.”

 

Vox stared at her skeptically but knew that coming from Charlie, it was a sincere statement. Anyone else and Vox would have called bullshit.

 

“The Princess is telling the truth,” said Alastor from beside him. “I invited myself.”

 

Odd. It wasn’t usually Alastor’s style to admit such a thing. It was way more his style to lie and make Charlie look bad in order to sow distrust and deceit.

 

Vox narrowed his eyes. “Why the fuck would you do that? You here for round two of our fight?” Sparks shot threateningly around his hand which Alastor stared at without flinching.

 

“Now, now, old pal. No need for such theatrics. And besides, it wasn’t much of a fight, now was it?” he said flippantly.

 

Vox felt his hackles rising, anger spinning out of control but then he stopped. The words and tone sounded mocking, like he was implying Vox was the one found lacking. But in reality, it was barely a fight on Alastor’s part. If Vox had really wanted to, it would have been so easy for him to end things right then and there. Alastor couldn’t even stand on his own two feet let alone win a fight.

 

And yet…Alastor had held a gun in his hand with an angelic bullet pressed to Vox’s head. And he didn’t pull the trigger.

 

The very same bullet felt heavy in his pocket.

 

“It’s not very sporting to kick a wounded man while he’s down, now is it?” Alastor’s sharp smile gleamed in the moonlight, seemingly without a care in the world. And yet he had just freely admitted to his own weakness in front of Vox and another.

 

What the FUCK was going on??

 

Vox stared at Alastor in disbelief.  Maybe there was something wrong with Velvette’s antidote. Maybe it messed with Alastor’s head and fried it. That was the only explanation for what was happening. Maybe Alastor had lost his memories as a result. But no, that didn’t make sense because he clearly remembered their last meeting.

 

Vox looked him over, trying to see if there were any other possible side effects to the antidote. But Alastor appeared outwardly to be normal. He stood up straight, with his cane propped in front of him instead of leaning on it to stay upright. There was no sickly tint to his skin, not outside the usual, and his posture appeared to be relaxed without any signs of pain.

 

But wait, there it was. A flick to one of Alastor’s ears. It was small but enough for Vox to catch. And there, at the corner of his eyes. There was a slight pinched look to them. At first glance, Vox thought he may still be in pain. But after the many long years of knowing the other, Vox knew the truth.

 

Alastor was anxious.

 

Vox’s eyes narrowed once more.

 

“What are you playing at?” he asked. “Whatever it is, I’m not going to fall for it.”

 

“Not to worry, old friend. No scheme, plot, or trick is at play. Instead, I’m just here for a nice, pleasant dinner with two of my dear friends!” Alastor said, grinning wide.

 

It goes to show just how unlikely Alastor’s story came off as, for even Charlie looked skeptical.

 

“Uh, Alastor,” said Charlie. “Like I said, we can discuss the possibility of doing a dinner with Vox, all together, another time. But right now, I think it’s really unfair to spring this upon Vox like this, unexpectedly. I think he should be given the chance to refuse to have dinner with you.”

 

“Not to mention you are trespassing in my own district,” hissed Vox.

 

“Oh nonsense, dear. You know I’ve never kept my own territory. Never have, never will. So, I can’t really be trespassing, now can I?” asked Alastor.

 

“That logic is so incredibly asinine, even for you,” said Vox. “Just go back to the damn hotel.” Charlie looked hurt, making Vox quickly backpedal. “Not that it’s bad or anything! Just, I really don’t want him here.”

 

And especially not at Rick and Gloria’s. Alastor had never met the two, Alastor and Vox having split ways before the couple had died. While the two had heard more than their fair share about the other Overlord, through the grape vine and through Vox’s own grumblings, he worried about a meeting between them.

 

Rick and Gloria had gotten too comfortable with being immediately acquainted with an Overlord from Hell. They didn’t have the same healthy dose of fear that the rest of Sinners had when it came to Overlords. Vox wouldn’t put it past either of them to say something so utterly insulting to Alastor that it would have gotten any other Sinner immediately killed in the most excruciating way. And it wouldn’t even be accidental. They’d just straight up insult Alastor to his face based on principal.

 

While their defense of him was endearing, it could prove to be incredibly problematic, and Vox didn’t want to risk either of their lives.

 

“Well, I’m not leaving.”

 

“Excuse me?” Vox said slowly.

 

Alastor grinned his Cheshire-like smile. “You heard me. I’m not leaving. If you want me gone, you’ll have to forcibly remove me yourself.”

 

Vox smiled his own sharp-toothed grin. “Gladly.”

 

Vox took barely one step before Charlie quickly got between them; her arms raised in alarm. “Nope! Noooooo! There will be no fighting today! Not while I’m here!”

 

Alastor’s smile widened in victory from behind Charlie.

 

Vox blinked. Why that fucking bastard! He was doing this on purpose! He KNEW that with Charlie there, confronting Vox again even within Vox’s own territory would force Vox to stay his hand. That BASTARD!

 

“I know this has to be frustrating and difficult,” she said. “Especially with everything that’s been going on between the two of you over the past couple of months. Not to MENTION all the several years of history the two of you have that I can’t even begin to unpack right now, let alone the two of you because I just know if you two HAD unpacked it all, you two wouldn’t be at each other’s throats all the time, and really, even with you two being immortal that can’t possibly be healthy by any stretch of the word-”

 

“Charlie!” The Princess cut off at Vox’s shout. “Just get to the point, please.”

 

Charlie took a deep breath. “Right. What I’m trying to say is that mayyyyybe, just this once, Vox, you could let it slide?” She gave him a hopeful look.

 

He scoffed. “Let it slide?! He’s here, in my territory, after he tried to attack me in my own home!”

 

“I know, I know,” she said quickly. “And I’m not excusing his behavior at all. That was a HUGGGGGE fuck up, for sure.” Vox blinked at the curse. Hearing the Princess swear was like hearing Alastor swear. It hardly happened and it felt weird. “But it’s something that you guys should probably talk through and there’s no time like the present!”

 

“What, you want to conduct a therapy session?” Vox asked incredulously.

 

“I mean, kind of,” she said. “I’m not a licensed therapist or anything but I think maybe I could help!” Her shoulders then drooped, and she sighed. “Look, you and I both know he’s not going to leave.” Alastor just grinned from behind Charlie. “And I know that’s annoying, and you could just leave if you want. But I reallllly wanted to come here and have dinner with you like we did last week.”

 

All of the anger seemed to deflate from Vox at that point. The look on Charlie’s face looked so sad and so sincere. He reminded himself that Charlie was also having a tough time with her mother and he doubted she had really processed it, especially since she had promised not to tell anyone.

 

Dammit. He really needed to learn how to say no when that kicked puppy dog look was turned his way.

 

“Hey, Ace. Princess.” Vox turned around to see Rick standing by the front door, peaking out from his diner. Gloria could be seen looking out the large glass windows. Surely, she had seen the commotion and went to alert her husband. “Everything alright out here?”

 

“Yeah, Ricky, everything’s under control,” Vox said, watching Alastor as he stared curiously at the other two. “Go back inside and we’ll be there in a minute.”

 

Rick hesitated but eventually obeyed, for once being reasonable and realizing that if any fight were to break out, he would only get in the way when it came to two Overlord’s and a royal.

 

“Ace?” Alastor asked curiously at the familiar name.

 

“Yeah, that’s what he calls me,” said Vox. “He’s a friend.”

 

“Really?” Alastor shot Rick and Gloria a critical look, the two having closed the door but not moving from blatantly watching them all. Alastor’s nosed crinkled slightly in disgust.

 

Vox scowled and barked out, “None of that, you hear.” Alastor blinked, his attention returning to Vox. “If you’re going to stay you WILL behave.”

 

“Really now. Them?” Alastor asked with a condescending laugh. “You can’t seriously be so protective over some lowly Demons such as themselves.”

 

Vox pointed a finger at Alastor, jabbing his chest over Charlie’s shoulder. “Those ‘lowly’ Demons are friends of mine since before I even met you.” Alastor blinked in surprise. “They’re MY Mimzy. Which means the same rules apply.”

 

Alastor’s brows furrowed and he shot another quick look their way before meeting Vox’s eyes. He gave a single nod. “Very well. The two of them will remain off limits in our little back-and-forth. But only them,” he said forcefully.

 

The threat was clear. Everyone else was fair game. But Vox could live with that. Velvette wasn’t exactly helpless. And in the end, if Alastor went after Valentino, he’d only be doing Vox a favor.  But it begged the question why Alastor would feel the need to add that at the end.

 

Instead of questioning Alastor further, he grinned. “Good. And just remember, Charlie likes Rick and Gloria too. If you hurt either of them, it’s not just me you’ll have to deal with.”

 

Charlie looked shocked but quickly recovered, turning around and shooting Alastor her best authoritative look, which wasn’t saying much. “That’s right! If you hurt either of them, you’ll have to deal with me!”

 

Alastor gave her an unimpressed look but relented. “Of course, dear.  You have my sincerest promise that I will not harm either of them.”

 

Charlie gave a definitive nod. “Good. That’s what I like to hear.”

 

Vox had to hide a snicker behind his hand. For a Princess, she was incredibly bad at acting with any ounce of authority. He’ll have to teach how to wield it without coming off like a child who has no idea what to do with it.

 

Charlie made her way towards the diner, greeting Rick and Gloria enthusiastically, the two returning her cheer. This gave Vox and Alastor a moment alone, the two staring at one another.

 

Vox frowned, crossing his arms. “I don’t know what it is you are hoping to get from me, but you won’t get it.”

 

“Why, my dear, says who I want anything more than just the pleasure of your company this fine evening?”

 

Vox snorted. “Yeah, I’ll believe that the day that I’m double dead. If that!” Vox uncrossed his arms and got up, chest-to-chest with Alastor. The other Demon only grinned. “Whatever it is you want, I’ll figure it out. Mark my words.”

 

“I’m sure you will.”

 

God, if only Vox could slap that infuriating smile of the others face, he would. And oh, how he’s tried!

 

Vox huffed, stepping back. “Come on then,” he said as he started towards the diner. “I’m fucking starving and not even you are going to ruin my appetite.”

 

“Oh?” said Alastor, as he followed. “Pray tell, what cuisine if sold here at this….fine establishment?”

 

Vox grinned widely at Alastor who gave him an assessing look. Vox opened the door for the other Overlord. “It’s a fifties styled diner. Mostly cheeseburgers of course!”

 

The radio screech was just perfect, as was the accompanying horrified look. Vox couldn’t help but laugh right in Alastor’s face, especially when he saw Rick going in for a giant bruising hug.

 

Oh, this was going to be perfect! He couldn’t WAIT to see Rick and Gloria push the limits of Alastor’s patience. After all the years of Vox having to deal with Mimzy, well…they did always say revenge was a dish best served cold! And Vox didn’t even hate the woman. But Vox just knew that Alastor was going to HATE dealing with Rick and Gloria. Especially since he couldn’t touch them!

 

Maybe this evening wasn’t going to be a bust after all!

__________________________________________________________

Xavier scowled as he stood behind the curtain, listening to the rowdy crowd on the other side.

 

“I can’t believe you two convinced me to do this,” he grouched.

 

“Because you love us!” said Ricky with a shit-eating grin. The bright red paint on his lips made the expression look ridiculous.

 

“I still don’t know why you two didn’t ask Smith to do this. He’d look better in a dress than me,” said Xavier with a huff. He grabbed at the offending cloth once, fidgeting uncomfortably.

 

John came over and swatted at his hands to get Xavier to stop. “Oh, now that just ain’t true. And even if it was, the man ain’t got any rhythm nor can he carry a tune to save his life. That’s why we asked you.”

 

Xavier huffed. “What about Cohen? He can carry a passable tune and doesn’t have any shame.”

 

“Maybe,” said John, shooting Xavier one of his dimply smiles that makes Xavier’s insides twist. “But he can’t carry a tune like the great Xavier Vox can.” Xavier’s cheeks flushed but thankfully the makeup on his face mostly covered it. “Come on, this’ll be fun!”

 

Fun isn’t the word Xavier would think to assign to this whole experience. Especially considering the fact if just months ago, back home, if anyone saw him dressed like this it would surely be a giant blight on his career and reputation. The rumors that would have spread would have been devastating. And yet for some reason, this sort of behavior wasn’t only tolerated but even encouraged while out here in the military.

 

John noticed the still grouchy expression and threw his muscular arm over Xavier’s shoulders, pulling him close. “Just think of it as your good ol’ days,” he said. “Imagine you’re just on a Broadway stage, performing for an eager crowd.”

 

While this crowd was certainly eager, this was far from anything like his Broadway days. Or it mostly was. Xavier looked at his two stage companions and thought of his old trio up on the stage. For a second Xavier couldn’t help but smirk when he thought about how at least the other two were dressed similarly to his old stage companions. The only difference was Xavier was in a dress too.

 

“Fine,” Xavier said with a sigh. “But if I hear a single wolf-whistle I’m gone.”

 

John barked out a laugh. “Oh, believe me, you are DEFINETLY going to be hearing some wolf-whistles.” John then smacked Xavier’s behind, making him startle. John just grinned and pulled the other two to the edge of the curtain, waiting in anticipation.

 

Seconds later, Madison and a couple others from his crew walked out from the other side of the curtain to the sounds of applause and sure enough, whistles. All three men wore wide grins, shoving each other playfully. Seeing the other pilot dressed in a low cut, ill-fitting dress made Xavier smirk. God, he made one Hell of an ugly woman.

 

Madison paused for a second, noticing Xavier. He then gave Xavier a once-over, making him self-conscious. Madison’s smile widened. “Well, I’ll be! Can’t believe you managed to get this fuddy-duddy into a dress, Ramirez. But you did not disappoint!”

 

Xavier immediately felt defensive, worried that by wearing this outfit everyone would somehow realize what he truly was. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t the only man wearing woman’s clothing.

 

“You’re tellin’ me!” said Ramierz. “You better go find yourselves a seat because this’ll be one Hell of a performance!”

 

Madison grinned. “Oh, I’m sure it will be! Go knock ‘em dead boys! We warmed ‘em up for ya!” He then gave a firm pat to the Xavier’s back as he laughed and walked away. Oddly enough, despite the laughter, it didn’t seem mocking. Xavier reminded himself again, he wasn’t the only one in a dress.

 

“And without further ado,” said one of the men from the other side of the curtain. “Presenting, the trio from the Shooting Stars!”

 

Ricky threw back the curtain with great enthusiasm as John practically drug Xavier out behind them. Sure enough, there was uproarious applause and a fair share of whistles. Xavier took one step to walk off but was stopped by John’s strong grip. He glared at John but quickly realized that any further fight would be pointless and resigned himself to his fate.

 

“Gentlemen and gentlemen! At long last we have managed to get the 90^th Bombardment groups very own personal shining star to give you all a free performance on the eve of our deployment!” cried Ricky. Several men clapped louder with multiple whoops and shouts. “A fine treat for all you bastards that managed to make it through Swartz’s endless torture! Tomorrow we’ll all finally get to show Germany exactly what the 90^th is made of!” More cries of enthusiasm and encouragement. Ricky waited for the shouts to die down slightly, acting every bit as if he was a skilled performer.

 

“But just for tonight,” he continued. “You all get to enjoy a once-in-a-lifetime performance of ‘Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy’ by Xavier Vox himself!”

 

Xavier rolled his eyes as the rowdy crowd began to shout again. There were several other men in the crowd, also dressed up in women’s clothing from their own performances. The whole lot of them looked ridiculous. John stood next to him and gave him an encouraging nod, his smile soft and warm. It eased any of Xavier’s lingering anxiety.

 

Finally, Xavier turned to the audience and gave them a bow. The man on the piano then began to play.

 

“He was a famous trumpet man from out Chicago way,” the three started. “He had a boogie style that no one else could play!”

 

Laughter could be heard as the crowd watched them dance in unison, flipping their dresses up as they kicked their legs out. The laughter should have felt suffocating but with the knowledge that the men weren’t really laughing at him but rather with him eased any discomfort.

 

“They made him blow a bugle for his Uncle Sam! It really brought him down because he couldn’t jam,” they sang. Surprisingly, John and Ricky weren’t bad. Ricky’s voice cracked on every other line, but Xavier didn’t know if that was just due to the boy’s youth or not. John, however, his deep voice complimented Xavier’s nicely and soon the audience was shouting what sounded like genuine praise.

 

“He makes the company jump when he plays reveille! He’s the boogie woogie bugle boy of Company B!”

 

Xavier actually found himself genuinely grinning along to their performance, losing himself in the song and dance. Somehow, against the odds, he began to actually imagine himself back on Broadway. It wasn’t like he could exactly forget and fool himself into thinking he was performing with Grace and Olivia once more but if for only a moment, he felt like he was able to capture that old magic and nostalgia of days long past.

 

“A-a-a-and the company jumps when he plays reveille! He's the boogie woogie bugle boy of Company B!”

 

Everyone was shouting and clapping and jumping up in excitement as their song came to a close. All three of them bowed and waved before making their exit for the next set of performers.

 

Xavier laughed along with the other two and continued to laugh along with them when they met up with the rest of their crew. Xavier and John had mostly fully changed, while Ricky still sported his wig and dress, pulling on a pair of pants underneath. They congregated at a table in the mess hall with other rowdy men in various stages of intoxication, all celebrating and or drowning out any lingering worries about officially going to war the next day.

 

“That was incredible, Ace!” said Cohen, still resolutely refusing to stop calling him as such and making the name spread. “Even in all that getup you were still fantastic!”

 

“Can’t believe we all got to have a live performance from one of Hollywood’s greatest actors!” said Murphy.

 

“Careful,” said Langley, his serious eyes dancing with mirth. “You’ll give him a big head.”

 

“Ehhh he can due to have a big head,” said Robinson as he sipped from a beer bottle. “If it means he’ll loosen up more like this.”

 

Spinelli nodded his head. “The man needs to learn to not be so serious,” he said gravely.

 

“Oh ho, ho!” cried Jones. “Is that the pot calling the kettle black, I hear?”

 

Smith laughed. “Spinelli, I don’t think you even have the capability to laugh!”

 

Spinelli grunted. “I’d laugh if any of you actually said something funny,” he said in his usually gruff tone but lacking any real bite.

 

“Ahh come on,” said Robinson, nudging Spinelli’s shoulder. “You’re telling me that these three in their dresses doesn’t make you want to laugh?”

 

Spinelli stared at them each for several seconds, his expression not changing even as Ricky made a kissing face, before he finally said, “No.” The group laughed.

 

John smiled and patted Spinelli on the shoulder. “I’m telling you, the man has taste.” He ignored Spinelli’s disgusted look he threw towards him. “I mean you saw him,” he said, pointing towards Xavier. “Even in a dress the man looks great with those chiseled cheeks.”

 

The others continued to laugh but Xavier couldn’t help but blush. With most of the makeup wiped away, and underneath the harsh lighting of the mess hall, it wasn’t as easy to hide.

 

“He ain’t wrong!” said Jones. “If I hadn’t known you were a man, I might have been fooled.”

 

Ricky shoved Jones playfully. “What, you thinkin’ Ace is a bit of a fox, eh?”

 

“Hey now, I wouldn’t go that far,” Jones said as he shoved the younger man back.

 

“No, no,” said John. “You’re right. He’s a bit foxy, ain’t he.” John’s eyes then lit up and he smiled. “Foxy Voxy!”

 

The others perked up, each saying the phrase and nudging him as they laughed. Xavier just smiled contently as he leaned back in his chair, both feet propped up on the table before him. The other men chatted around him, laughing and drinking, leaving Xavier content to listen to the comradery. For the first time since Grace’s death, he felt…light. Like he belonged.

 

It made him feel like he was betraying her.

 

How could he sit here, happy and satisfied, while he knew that Grace would never again have the chance to do the same? How could he sit here, without a care in the world, knowing that her murderer was out there? How could he sit here, and lust after another man while his wife lay cold in the ground?

 

John sat across from him, watching him critically, meeting Xavier’s eyes. Nobody else noticed as Xavier’s mood seemed to sour unexpectedly. Xavier felt seen. He hated it.

 

Abruptly he got to his feet. Rick grabbed his arm. “Hey, where you goin’, Ace?”

 

“It’s getting late,” he said gruffly. “We got a big day tomorrow.”

 

As he walked away, he could hear comments and grumbles about how he was the ‘same ol’ Vox, always a kill joy’. Langley thankfully stepped in and barked at them all saying that he was right and that they couldn’t drink the night away.

 

Instead of heading back to their quarters he wandered the barracks, enjoying the nice evening air. There was laughter and signs of celebrating echoing through the grounds, but none approached him or recognized him under the blanket of night.

 

He found a couple boxes stacked on top of and against each other next to one of the hangars. There was a radio that had been left behind, playing soft tunes to no one but the crickets that chirped lazily. He sat down on one of the boxes, leaning his head back against the hangar and looked up at the stars.

 

He could just imagine Grace’s voice say, “Ain’t they beautiful” if she were here right now. She’d lean her head against his shoulder, looping her arm through his as she’d loosely grabbed his hand. She’d hum along to the radio and sway their bodies slightly side-to-side.

 

Xavier closed his eyes, trying to imagine her there even as he was unable to prevent the single tear from escaping and rolling down his cheek.

 

“Ain’t they beautiful?”

 

Xavier startled. He looked to his side and saw John standing there, back against the hangar, staring up at the stars. “I grew up out in the country,” he said. “Moved to Houston when I was eighteen. Never could quite get over how different the night sky was in the city.”

 

Xavier understood that. One of the few good things about the small town he grew up in was being able to see the Milky Way in all its glory at night. You could never do that in New York City or Los Angeles.

 

“You grew up in the country, too, didn’t you?” John asked, turning towards Xavier.

 

He’d ask how the other man knew that but he’d long since gotten used to random strangers knowing different facts about him. He nodded. “Mississippi.”

 

John hummed. “You miss it?”

 

Xavier snorted. “Not in the slightest.” He looked upwards once more in time to watch a shooting star trail across the sky. Tomorrow the Shooting Star would have its first official mission. He wondered if it too would fly across the sky in a white-hot flaming blaze. “In the big city there’s anonymity. It’s easy to blend into the crowd. There, you can be anybody.”

 

“Even for you?” John asked. “Surely someone as big name as you there isn’t much opportunity for that.”

 

“You do know what an actor does, right?” Xavier said mockingly. “I make a career out of pretending to be someone else.”

 

John nodded sagely. “Yeah, you’re pretty good at that.”

 

Somehow, Xavier didn’t think he was talking about Xavier’s career. John came over, taking a seat uninvited next to Xavier. He shifted uncomfortably, thinking about getting up and leaving now that his peace had been disturbed.

 

“You know, you don’t have to always pretend right?” John said. “You can just be you. People aren’t going to run away.”

 

Xavier stared at him in disbelief. He laughed humorlessly. If people knew who he was to his core, he’d be thrown out of the military and arrested. He’d be disgraced with no chance of working ever again.

 

“Oh really?” he said snarkily. “Plenty of people seem to run away when faced with my temper.”

 

John stared at him with a sad smile. “That ain’t you though. That’s just your grief trying to push people away.”

 

Xaiver reeled back in shock. How dare he. How dare this man try and act like he had even an inkling of knowing who Xavier was.

 

“Don’t you try and talk to me about my grief,” Xaiver said in a low tone. “You don’t know anything about me. Just because you may have read about me in some newspaper and seen some of my movies doesn’t mean you know me.”

 

“You’re right. I don’t.” Xavier leaned back in victory before John said, “But I’d like to.” Xavier’s head whipped around in incredulity. “I’m serious. Underneath that hard and rough exterior, I think there’s something soft and lonely. Somebody who just wants to be seen.”

 

The last person who had seen him, truly seen him, was Grace.

 

Xavier got up and snarled. “’Lonely’?” He scoffed. “Fuck. You,” he said slowly through clenched teeth. “Where do you get off telling me I’m lonely?”

 

“Because you are,” John said simply. “It’s alright. It’s understandable, considering.”

 

“Oh, you mean considering the fact my wife is dead?!” he growled.

 

John gave him a sad expression. “To start. But it’s not just that you lost her, is it? She was the last of your family?” he asked softly. “Wasn’t she?”

 

Xavier’s chest was rising and falling rapidly as his heart hammered against it. In the silence, he finally realized what song the radio had switched to. A hauntingly slow and melancholic song hummed.

 

“I’ll never smile again, until I smile at you,” sung the women, accompanied by Frank Sinatra’s beautiful voice. “I’ll never laugh again, what good would it do?”

 

His eyes stung but he refused to let any tears fall.

 

“You signed up for this war because you didn’t care anymore, did you?” John asked, already knowing the answer. “You didn’t care if you lived or died.”

 

The radio continued its soft melody. “For tears would fill my eyes. My heart would realize that our romance is through.”

 

“And why the fuck are you here, huh?” Xavier said as his voice wobbled. “You here to be some sort of hero?” He didn’t know if he was asking John why he was there in the military or why he was here now, right in front of Xavier. The only person to follow him out into the night.

 

John shrugged and gave a humorless smile. It didn’t suit him like his dimpled one. “You ain’t the only one lost, you know.”

 

“I’ll never love again,” Frank sung. “I’m so in love with you.” John got to his feet and slowly approached. “I’ll never thrill again, to somebody new.”

 

Xavier’s breath caught once John stopped directly in front of him. He had to look up to meet the other man’s eyes. They shone brightly in the moonlight, dancing with something familiar.

 

“I might not know you, Ace,” John whispered. “But there’s a certain familiarity to ya, don’t you think? Don’t tell me you don’t feel it either.”

 

“Within my heart,” was sang. “I know I will never start. To smile again, until I smile at you.”

 

John’s breath ghosted across his face, sending a thrill down his spine. He shivered further when John placed a hand on his back, drawing them still closer.

 

“I don’t know you. And I don’t want to,” Xavier said in the hopes he’d convince himself.

 

John smirked. “You know, for an actor who spends all his time lying to the audience, you ain’t the best liar.”

 

“Within my heart,” Frank sang, the words dancing around the two of them. “I know I will never start to smile again. Until I smile at you.”

 

John’s other hand came up to gently wipe away the traitorous tear that had escaped. Xavier couldn’t help but lean into the surprisingly tender embrace. “I can’t do this. Not again,” he gasped out. “It hurts too much.”

“Until I smile at youuuuuu,” came the end of the song, the soft notes drifting into the night.

 

John leaned in slowly. “I know,” he whispered. “That’s just love, though. There’s nothing you can do about it.”

 

When their lips finally closed it wasn’t some groundbreaking, passionate thing. It was soft, and it was tender, and it felt like coming home. Xavier’s heart ached for the feeling and melted into John, freely letting his tears fall as John held him up in his strong, firm arms.

_______________________________________________________

Alastor was losing his mind.

 

His eye twitched as he held onto his cane with a death grip, the wood creaking and groaning under his ministrations. The microphone groaned at him, screeching and blinking at him in warning. He immediately loosened his grip, allowing the thing to sigh in relief.

 

Across from him sat Vox, who was giving him a wicked, triumphant grin. Oh, he truly was evil, wasn’t he? Definitely meant for Hell and its ilk.

 

Charlie sat between them, staring nervously back-and-forth between them, with the occasional look shot towards the giant billy-goat who was invading his space and jostling him in a move that was surely intentional. It seemed that every little move invaded his personal space, with his shoulder hit, foot stepped on, arm nudged, and even their glasses of water poured unceremoniously into his lap.

 

“Oops!” shouted the giant man, right in Alastor ears. “Clumsy me! That’s my bad! Let me just clean that up for ya and I’ll get you all some more water!” The Demon then began quickly whipping Alastor’s lap with an already dirty dishrag before Alastor shoved his hands away.

 

“It’s fine! It’s fine,” he grit out, just barely keeping himself lashing out at the Demon. The goat either didn’t notice, or he was being intentionally ignorant if the miniscule widening of his smile was any indication.

 

“It’s just poor service on my part not to personally clean up after my mess,” he said as he tried to begin whipping at Alastor’s lap once more but was prevented from doing so when shadowy tendrils wrapped around at his wrists. His eyes widened marginally but he was soon released when Vox’s own eyes narrowed in warning.

 

“No, no,” Alastor said in his typical jovial tone as he dabbed at his wet pants. “I insist, your assistance is not necessary. I’m practically dry already!” While a blatant lie, and everyone knew it, thankfully the goat didn’t appear to be attempting to touch him once more.

 

The cow who appeared to be the goat’s wife came over, stepping between Alastor and her spouse. She shot her spouse a sidelong glare as she ushered him off. It was clear the woman either had more self-preservation or was at least more intelligent and knew that intentionally angering an Overlord, even while under the protection of another, was blatantly idiotic.

 

“You three ready to order?” she asked, looking directly at Vox and Charlie, only shooting Alastor the occasional weary glance.

 

“We’ll have three cheeseburgers, Gloria,” said Vox just as Alastor had opened his mouth to point out they hadn’t been given any menus. “Ain’t that right, Al?” he said, turning a pointed look his way even as he grinned wickedly.

 

Vox knew he wasn’t a fan of such greasy slop so ordering such food was clearly meant to torture him further. And by posing the question to Alastor, he was challenging him. He was daring Alastor to disagree, cause a scene, maybe even escalate things into a fight which of course would be counterintuitive to his goals at this juncture. Instead of arguing or disagreeing like Vox clearly anticipated him to do, he offered his own wicked smile back.

 

“Why of courssse that’s fine!” he drawled. “I trust your expert opinion on what’s best in this…restaurant!”

 

Vox’s eye twitched, clearly annoyed at his acquisition. The cow simply shared a look with Charlie before making her quick exit. Smart woman indeed.

 

The table descended into silence for several seconds with Charlie shooting frantic looks between the two of them. She was uncomfortable with the silence and Alastor couldn’t say he wasn’t either, he just was better at hiding it.

 

He was here to try and reconnect with Vox in order to put a wedge between him and his moth, AND try and get Charlie to forgive her mother, but he couldn’t think of the first way to do that. He’d already willingly agreed to not kill Vox’s little friends, which he thought was a rather gracious offer, but it was clear that wasn’t enough. What else? What else? What else?

 

He could tell Vox he decided to let his other little friend, the female Overlord, to live when she came to visit him at the hotel. But no, Vox surely already knew that. He could lie and tell Vox he had just meant to mess with him when he went to his tower when he asked him to kill him. Considering how that ended it wasn’t likely that Vox would believe him, but then again, when Vox handed a literal angelic weapon to him, he didn’t pull the trigger so it may work.

 

Both topics seemed to be touchy ones, however, and as such, not safe. So, what to say, what to say?

 

“Soooo,” Charlie began. “We going to talk about it?”

 

“About what?” Vox said gruffly.

 

“You know,” she said slowly. “The last time you two saw each other in person.”

 

Leave it to the Princess to broach the very topic neither wanted to discuss. At least not without fighting. And while Vox was vying for a fight, Alastor was trying to avoid it at all cost.

 

Charlie took a deep breath. “For I think that maybe it’s something we should discuss. It WAS a rather big incident between you two, don’t you think?”

 

Vox scoffed. “I don’t know, I mean Alastor came to kill me but got his ass handed to him instead. What else is there to discuss?”

 

“I don’t know. There seems like a lot of things to discuss,” Charlie said with a shrug. “Like why Alastor was there to try and kill you first off.”

 

Alastor felt his hackles rise when both parties turned to look at him expectantly. What was he supposed to say? That he was there to actually die? That he wanted Vox to be the one to do him in? It felt too vulnerable to admit to such a thing.

 

“Why I was just there for a bit of fun!” he said in cheer. “A joke between old friends, is all. Good old fashioned ‘back-and-forth’ like we’ve always done, isn’t that right old pal?”

 

“What?!” cried Vox, electricity jumping between antennas. “You think that our f-x-fights and trying to kill each other has been FUN for me?!”

 

Perhaps that was the wrong thing to say if Vox’s incensed look was any indication. Alastor’s brows furrowed as his grin strained at the corners. “It’s been entertaining to say the very least! And besides,” he said, more subdued. “It’s not like either of us have really been trying to kill each other, now have we?” It was enough of a concession that while there had been multiple times Alastor had left Vox in bad sorts, he had never truly meant to kill the man. Hurt him, sure, but death wasn’t something he had ever intended, even if he didn’t consciously recognize this fact at the time.

 

This didn’t have the desired effect for Vox crossed his arms and practically snarled at him as he said, “Oh, so you just liked torturing me after all these years. Good to know!”

 

Alastor opened his mouth to argue but it quickly snapped shut when he was faced with the reality of what all their interactions looked like to an outside observer. Fight after fight, leaving entire city blocks in ruins and one or both of them left bleeding and damaged. Vox wasn’t the first to accuse Alastor of enjoying torturing Vox. The first time Rosie had asked, Alastor had stormed out of her shop and not seen her for months.

 

And maybe, on some level, he had enjoyed it. No, he HAD. He knew he had. Or at least that’s what he told himself to quiet the dark churning in the pit of his stomach each time they fought. Each time he cracked Vox’s screen. Each time he ripped at his limps.

 

A gentle hand grabbed at his hand and he startled. Charlie was looking up at him with a sympathetic look. “You alright, Alastor?”

 

“Of course, dear!” he said cheerily, discreetly pulling his hand away from her.

 

Charlie didn’t look convinced in the slightest. “You sure? Because you looked pretty upset when Vox said you liked hurting him.”

 

Vox scoffed, drawing their attention. He was scowling, his arms still crossed, almost like it was an extra barrier between them. “Oh please. Don’t fall for any sort of remorse he might be trying to fake. Believe me when I say he more than just l-x-like’s hurting me. He L-L-X-LOVES it!” He shouted, slamming his hands on the table and shoving himself to standing. “Do you know how many times he’s left me behind in the wreckage he created, bleeding and not even able to crawl myself to safety?? Not to mention last time when he-!”

 

Vox cut himself off, blinking widely at Alastor at what he had almost said out loud. ‘Last time when Alastor refused to pull the trigger when Vox literally begged him to do it,’ was what he was going to say. It was clear that Vox saw this as another cruelty, perhaps even worse than all the other cruelties Alastor had inflicted on him.

 

And it made Alastor’s heart ache.

 

Somehow, despite all the evidence Alastor had been gathering, the sick image in his head that he was worried may be true, he had still on some level not believed that Vox truly wanted to die. But he did, Vox wanted to die. Was desperate for it. Of course he was, he still carried that same damned angelic bullet in his pocket, all these years later.

 

Was this Alastor’s doing? Was he the one that drove Vox to this state of mind? Or was this bigger than him? Was it the mere fact he had lived in Hell for decades? Or was it something else? SOMEONE else?

 

At this angle, with Vox looming above them, the lights from the restaurant fell on his face differently, reflecting off different parts of his screen. And there, right in the lower corner, was a distortion. No, a crack.

 

It wasn’t a large one. Nothing crazy. Alastor had caused greater cracks in Vox’s screen himself. But it was there and now that he saw it, it appeared glaringly obvious. And Alastor had one guess as to who the source of it was from.

 

“Last time?” Charlie asked suddenly. “Wait, what happened last time?”

 

Vox turned his wide eyes towards her before looking away and out the window, quickly sitting down. “Nothing.”

 

Charlie frowned. “No, something happened. Something more than just a fight. What was it?” How uncharacteristically forceful of her. There seemed to be some real authority behind that statement.

 

“Nothing, Charlie,” Vox snapped. “We fought. We tried to kill each other. It was the same sort of violence and cruelty that it always is.”

 

Vox didn’t want Charlie to know about his suicidal ideations. Alastor doubted he even wanted Alastor to know, but seeing as he had a front row seat to what Vox had assumed and hoped would be his last moments, there was nothing he could do about Alastor knowing.

 

Charlie had opened her mouth to argue further when the cow arrived with a tray full of new waters, thankfully none being spilt this time. Accompanied by the waters, were three empty glasses and a bottle of very cheap whiskey. “Here. You three look like you could use this. Just-” She sighed. “Please don’t drink too much and destroy the diner.”

 

“Don’t worry, we won’t,” Vox reassured, even as he poured himself a generous glass for himself. “And even if we did, I’d of course pay for the repairs.”

 

The cow glared at him. “Orrrr, you can just refrain from destroying the place.”

 

“Alright, alright. We promise,” he said, raising his hands in a placating way. This seemed to satisfy the cow for she scurried off into the kitchen once more.

 

As soon as they were left alone, Charlie was back on them though. Alastor found himself wishing the cow would come back. “But it wasn’t the same sort of cruelty, was it?” Charlie asked leaning eagerly forwards. “If it was the same sort of thing then you wouldn’t have thought to mention some specific moment before cutting yourself off.”

 

Vox groaned. “What does it matter Charlie?”

 

“It matters because it’s something you two need to talk about if you want to move past this,” she said encouragingly.

 

Vox shook his head. “Forgiveness,” he said, like the word was a curse.

 

Charlie perked up. “Yes! Exactly!”

 

While Alastor would usually roll his eyes at such a thing, just as Vox was literally doing right now, he paused. His shadow hissed in his mind.

 

‘Encourage this line of thinking,’ it hissed. ‘It very well may kill two birds with one stone.’

 

“Charlie’s right.” Two heads whipped his way. “Forgiveness is the best way to move forwards from this little mishap!”

 

Charlie blinked in surprise while Vox’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. Alastor threw an arm out, circling around Charlie’s shoulders and pulling her close. She let out a soft ‘oomph’. “It’s a difficult thing to strive for, but it’s important to strive for it none-the-less! Forgiveness between old friends.” Vox’s eyes narrowed further. “Forgiveness between loved ones. Forgiveness between coworkers. Forgiveness between family. Forgiveness even between parent and child!”

 

Charlie stiffened underneath his arm, her brows coming together at such a thought. “Between parent and child?” she asked slowly.

 

“Of course, dear!” he said as he pulled her even closer, almost as if in a half hug. “It’s not uncommon for parent and child to hurt each other repeatedly and in unexpected ways. But it’s important to remember that more often than not, there is no real ill-will intended. So often the things our parents do is out of love, however, misplaced that may be!”

 

Her brows furrowed further, more than likely wondering how Lilith’s actions could ever possibly be done with an ounce of love. While she was not likely to come to the correct conclusion, Alastor had to admit they were done out of a sense of love for the family she desired.

 

Vox let out a humorless bark of laugher. “Is that what we’re calling it now? What you did to your father?”

 

Radio feedback screeched through the restaurant, making the few customers the diner had cover their ears.

 

Charlie blinked, looking curiously up at Alastor who removed his arm from her. He sat back in his seat, and stared down at the table, trying to remain calm.

 

Decade ago he had told Vox about his first kill. He had proudly declared that he had cornered him in a park, striking his head over and over until it was a bloody mess. He had said it all with a gleeful, almost manic grin as Vox sat there with slightly furrowed brows. Back then he’d also posed a question that had thrown him off guard, resulting in Alastor fleeing. ‘Is that why Grace left New Orleans? Because she found out what you did to your father?’

 

For once, Charlie remained quiet. She must have known on some level that it was best for her not to intervene. Alastor looked up slowly, meeting Vox’s cruel eyes that sparkled in triumph. Alastor’s lip twitched.

 

“No,” he finally said. “That was revenge.” Vox blinked, not expecting Alastor to tell the truth. Alastor tilted his head to the side at an unnatural angle and grinned wider. “Just like what you did to that German soldier.”

 

Two could play at that game. Vox wasn’t the only one who knew so many of the other’s secrets.

 

Vox’s eyes widened and a bolt of electricity traveled across his screen, reflecting off the crack. Alastor froze. What was he doing?

 

‘Letting your anger and sense of cruelty get the best of you,’ hissed his shadow. ‘Do you or do you not want to reconnect with the television to get him away from the moth? Antagonizing him is a poor way to go about doing that.’

 

Alastor could feel his ears droop against his will. “I-I shouldn’t have brought up the solider,” he said, trying to sound sincere. “That was cruel of me.”

 

“Fuck you,” said Vox. “When are you not? And what is this anyways? Trying to act all-all apologetic or something. What game are you playing at, huh?”

 

Alastor shook his head. “There is no game.”

 

“Shut the fuck up. It’s always a g-x-ame with you!” Vox threw his arms up. “And this is no different. You show up to my tower, saying you’re going to kill me, then xxxxxDON’T! And now you show up weeks later, acting like nothing had even happened to include the past multiple d-x-x-ecades and expect me to what, just roll over and act like that same stupid naïve little pet of yours, always following you around?” Vox scoffed, his screen glitching. “Not a chance! I’m not a pathetic little Demon anymore, I’m a powerful Overlord who knows exactly what you are, a cruel sadist who loves torturing others. You’re here just waiting for me to get my guard down and trust-xxx you so you can pull the rug out from beneath my feet, AGAIN! But I’m not falling for it!”

 

Vox was breathing heavily by the end of his rant, small sparks of electricity zapping from his body but never quite hitting anything or anyone. Charlie had raised her arms to protect herself, covering her head. “Vox! You need to calm down, please! You’re going to wreck the diner!”

 

The electricity instantly stopped. Vox closed his eyes and took a deep breath in before retaking his seat. Vox took his drink without even looking and downed the rest in one gulp.

 

This was not good. He had come here with the intention of reconciling but he’d only angered Vox further. Why was he so bad at this?

 

‘Apologize, you idiot,’ hissed his shadow, just peeking out from beneath the booth to glare at Alastor. ‘If you want to make things better between you two, you need to swallow your pride.’

 

Apologize for what exactly, he thought.

 

‘What happened at his tower the other week. Treating him as a threat after he arrived at the hotel and saved you while you were on your death bed months ago. Nearly killing him eight years ago. Nearly killing him thirty years ago! Really, take your pick!’

 

Alastor took his own deep breath, reaching out and pouring himself a drink of whiskey. He then filled up Vox’s glass without comment. Vox just glared at him but accepted the drink, nonetheless.

 

“I’m sorry,” Alastor said garnering real shock from both of the table’s other occupants. “Not just for the comment about the German soldier but for going to your tower the other week. I…shouldn’t have said or done the things I did.” He thought about his refusal to pull the trigger. “Well…for almost everything I had done.”

 

Vox stared at him critically; his brows pinched together in a way that would surely be painful if he had actual brows and not digital ones. Vox thankfully didn’t ask what he meant by that and likely caught his meaning when Alastor shot a meaningful look towards Charlie. Vox’s brows furrowed further, having caught his meaning and the implication that Alastor was respecting Vox’s privacy considering the matter instead of airing his dirty laundry.

 

“Then why did you do it?” Vox asked gruffly, his curiosity getting the best of him.

 

Alastor hesitated. He had to give Vox something, some sort of explanation but should he tell him the truth? Tell Vox that he was there to have Vox do the very same thing that he had been craving Alastor to do to him, finally put him out of his misery? He shot a look at Charlie who was sitting enraptured by the two of them. She caught Alastor’s eye and understanding seemed to dawn on her.

 

She quickly got to her feet, nearly knocking her chair over in her haste. “Uhm, I think I’m just going to go check on Rick and Gloria and see how our burgers are coming along, how does that sound?” She didn’t even wait for a response before she had already scurried off into the kitchen, the door swinging behind her.

 

All of the other patrons were far enough away, nowhere close enough to hear their conversation as long as they didn’t start yelling at each other. They were as good as alone and Vox stared at him expectantly.

 

Alastor grabbed his drink and downed the whole thing before pouring another drink.

 

“You and are not so dissimilar,” Alastor began. “Pride is most assuredly one of the sins that condemned both of us to Hell. Having our reputations tarnished or looking weak is something neither of us can tolerate.” Vox shifted in his seat.

 

“My…injury from Adam was not something I handled well,” he said slowly. Surprisingly, Vox made no snide comment or sound of disbelief. “I did not like the toll it took on my body and how…weak it made me.” He grit his teeth and flexed his hands at the reminder of that feeling.

 

“I thought that being killed outright in that battle would have been preferrable to the slow death I was suffering. Being reduced to a pathetic weakling who could barely stand up was a nightmare. I could just picture it, the headlines declaring me an invalid and having suffered the most pathetic death that any Overlord had experience. Pathetic! Weak!” he spit out. He shook his head. “I couldn’t stand it. I didn’t want to go out like that so I thought I would take matters into my own hands.”

 

“You wanted me to kill you,” Vox whispered.

 

Alastor nodded and swallowed down the bitter taste in his mouth at admitting such a weakness. “Yes.”

 

Vox leaned forwards, placing his head in his hands. He stared down at the table and his drink that sat before him. “I can’t believe this,” he whispered. “This can’t be true.”

 

“You really think that I’d make up such a lie in order to what, mock you?” Alastor said, raising a single brow.

 

Vox frowned. He realized the improbability of such a thing. Alastor wouldn’t make up such a lie in order to simply torment Vox and his own desire to have Alastor kill him. It would be risking too much to have the information get out and have the rest of Hell believe it as the truth. It would tarnish not just one of their reputations but both of theirs.

 

Vox then let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. “You couldn’t have just waited a day. I would have brought that damn antidote to you and you would have been fine. None of this would have happened.”

 

Alastor let out his own small chuckle. “Don’t remind me.”

 

Vox finally leaned back, resting his back against the booth cushion as he stared back at Alastor. For the first time in decades, it felt like there was a small sense of that same old comfortability and comradery between them. Of course, Alastor would have to go and ruin it.

 

“So, where does this leave us?” Alastor asked. “Do you forgive me old pal?”

 

Vox barked out a laugh. “Just because you apologized doesn’t magically make everything better. Which by the way, what the fuck is up with that? Are you feeling alright? Does Velvette’s antidote have some sort of residual side effects? It’s probably not a bad idea to have you come in and let Velvette run some tests on you.”

 

Alastor’s nose scrunched up at such an idea. “No, no. Everything’s fine. Is it really so hard to believe that I’d apologize?”

 

“Yes!” he said, laughing again. “You NEVER apologize!”

 

Alastor huffed. While that wasn’t exactly one-hundred percent true, it was true enough when it came to his time in Hell. “Well, there’s a first time for everything, isn’t there?”

 

“I suppose,” Vox said, the two trailing off into silence.

 

Alastor fidgeted with his glass between his hands. “If you don’t forgive me then what can I do to get you to?”

 

Vox frowned then. “What’s up with that? Why are you so insistent on me forgiving you?”

 

Alastor hesitated and then shrugged, a motion that was very uncharacteristic of him. “I just want you to have options.”

 

“Options?” Vox asked in confusion.

 

“Yes, options.”

 

“What the fuck does that even mean?”

 

Alastor huffed. “Options. Other…friends,” he said lamely.

 

Vox snorted. “Is that what we are now? Friends? We haven’t been friends in decades, Al. According to you we never were!”

 

Alastor flinched marginally at having his own words thrown back at him from all those decades ago. “I didn’t mean that.”

 

Vox opened his mouth in disbelief. “Oh, you were lying when you said we were never friends?”

 

“Yes,” he grit out.

 

“Are you sure about that?” Vox sneered. “Or are you not sure that those first few decades were the lie and here you are, lying to me again.”

 

“I’m not lying,” Alastor said through his teeth.

 

“Well clearly you are because you and I are most definitely NOT friends,” said Vox.

 

Alastor threw up a single hand in exasperation. “Maybe not yet, but we could be!”

 

“Why??” Vox cried. “Because you apologized for one shitty thing you did? What about all the rest, Al? There’s a lot of really shitty things you’ve done to me over the years!”

 

“I know! But I don’t see why we can’t move past all of that,” Alastor said.

 

Vox stared at him aghast. “A lot of the things you’ve done aren’t just things people can get over just like that!”

 

“Why not?” cried Alastor. “You seem to get over all the shit Valentino puts you through!”

 

Silence.

 

“What did you say?” Vox’s voice was as sharp as a knife.

 

Alastor’s smile twitched. He raised his hand and gestured towards Vox’s screen. “There’s a crack right there. I know it was him.”

 

Vox’s hand shot up, immediately covering the crack. “How the Hell would you know that?”

 

“I didn’t until you just confirmed it,” Alastor said triumphantly. “But it wasn’t hard to guess.”

 

“What the FUCK do you know?” hissed Vox.

 

The other patrons gave them looks at the raised voices. Alastor leaned forward and lowered his voice so only Vox could hear. “I know more than enough. He’s always been a despicable cretin whose own brand of cruelty is beyond disgusting and it’s obvious that hasn’t changed within the past couple decades.”

 

A spark traveled up Vox’s body and was dispelled into the air. Vox wouldn’t look at him. “Vox,” Alastor said imploringly. “He hurts you. I know he does.”

 

“It’s just a crack,” Vox said weakly.

 

“I’m not talking about the crack. I’m talking about everything else,” he said.

 

Vox’s brows twitched. “What do you mean?”

 

“Velvette told me.” Vox’s head whipped towards him, eyes wide in shock. No, not shock. Fear. Whatever it was that Velvette knew, Vox was terrified of it getting out. The dread in the pit of his stomach deepened.

 

“What the fuck did she tell you?” Vox asked in a whisper, his voice unsteady.

 

“She told me enough,” Alastor said evasively.

 

“No, no. What did she tell you exactly?” Vox pressed, refusing to let this go.

 

Alastor’s fingers tapped on the table, realizing he could not get around this. “She…implied he hurts you.” Vox sneered, leaning back and looking away. “But it was more than enough!” Alastor quickly added. “What was left unsaid spoke volumes, and I seriously doubt she would have come to me asking me to kill Valentino if all he was doing was cracking your screen.”

 

“And so what if he is?” Vox shouted, startling Alastor into silence. “So, what if it is more than a couple cracked screens? What do you care? We’re not friends, Al, and despite whatever the fuck this is, I don’t believe you truly want to be,” Vox said, his chest heaving. “The closest thing either of us have ever been is brother’s-in-law, united through a farce of a marriage.” Alastor flinched. “You didn’t feel any sort of kinship to me when you found me on that rooftop. Pity, maybe. Some small sense of obligation even. But you don’t care for me. You never have.” All of the fire in Vox’s rant slowly died out as he went to the point his voice was a mere whisper, sounding exhausted and defeated by the end.

 

Alastor shook his head throughout the little speech. “You’re wrong,” he said.

 

Vox brought his hand up to the side of his head, digging circles into the casing and distorting the edge of his screen. He had always been prone to headaches when stressed. “Whatever you say, Al. I’m tired of arguing with you on this.” He got to his feet, digging into his inner jacket pocket, pulling out several bills and throwing them onto the table. “Give that to Gloria for all three of our meals. I’m leaving. I’ve lost my appetite.”

 

He turned to leave when Alastor shot up, grabbing onto Vox’s wrist. Vox turned around to stare at him in shock and annoyance. This close, the crack seemed even more obvious. “Where are you going?”

 

“Back to my tower. Now let go,” he said, pulling at his wrist but Alastor refused to let go.

 

“Back to him? Back to the Demon who treats you like you’re beneath him?” Alastor spat.

 

Vox gave one final forceful pull, his wrist finally being released. He glared at Alastor. “Just like old times, huh?”

 

He turned back around and began to walk away. He was leaving. He was going to go back to that disgusting insect. And Alastor had gotten nowhere.

 

His heart rate increased as he frantically thought of something, anything to stay to get Vox to stay. Anger boiled up inside him, angry at himself, angry at Valentino, angry at Vox. Like always, he was helpless to his own anger and said the first thing he could think of, knowing even without his shadows hissed warning in his head, he shouldn’t say it.

 

“And what about all the souls he owns?” Vox froze. “Even if you don’t give a damn about what he does to you, I would have thought you’d at least care about the poor souls he owns and the way he uses them.” Alastor’s smile grew, twisting into something cold and ugly, meant only to bite and tear. “Who would have thought that the bleeding heart who brought down a trafficking ring would come to care so little?” He tilted his head to the side, going in for the kill. “Maybe your continual cries of innocence in the whole debacle really were exaggerated.”

 

Within the blink of an eye Vox was in front of him, leaving a trail of lightning in his wake, his hand wrapped around Alastor’s throat. Instinctively, Alastor shoved him back, shadows wrapping around Vox’s wrist in an iron-grip, pulling it off of him.

 

The kitchen door opened, and three sets of footsteps came rushing out but they both ignored them. Instead, they both stood there heaving, staring back at the other. Alastor’s mouth hung open, shocked but not at Vox. What had he done?

 

Vox was shaking. His eyes, stance, everything about him screamed with murderous intent. “I don-xxx-don’t ever want to see y-yyyyyxxxxou in my territory again.” Sparks zapped threateningly towards him but never quite hit. “If I do-xxxx, you’re dead.”

 

Charlie stepped forwards. “Wait, Vox, please! Can we just talk about-”

 

“NO!” he shouted, making the cow and goat jump. Vox pointed a finger at Charlie, snarling as he said, “You will not-xxxx bring him into my territory again! EVER!”

 

“Vox-”

 

He cut her off again. “EVER!”

 

Vox then dissolved into lightning, zapping through the window, shattering it as he disappeared into a camera across the street.

 

Alastor was left thinking once more, what had he done?

Notes:

In 1942:
Xavier is 37

Historical facts and general info about this chapter:

The Boeing B-17 Flying Fortress is an American four-engined heavy bomber aircraft developed in the 1930s for the Unites States Army Air Corops (USAAC). A fast and high-flying bomber, the B-17 dropped more bombs than any other aircraft during World War II. A standard B-17 crew had 10 members initially, consisting of the pilot (Xavier), co-pilot (Spencer Langley), navigator (Harold Robinson), bombardier (Roger Spinelli), flight engineer (Thomas Murphy), radio operator (Frank Jones), two waist gunners (John Ramierez and Richard “Ricky” Rockwell), a ball turret gunner (Gary Smith), and a tail gunner (Daniel Cohen). The crew size was later reduced to 9 and then 8 crewmembers.

In a WWII-era bombardment unit, a Bombardment Group was the main operational command, typically commanded by a Colonel, comprising several Squadrons (the primary operational units with aircraft), which in turn were made up of several Crews, the personnel who operated the bombers and provided essential ground support. The relationship is hierarchical: Squadrons form a Group, and Crews make up the air and ground personnel within the Squadrons and Group. U.S. bomb groups were numbered and classified into four types: Very Heavy (VH), Heavy (H), Medium (M), and Light (L). B-17’s were classified as heavy. Heavy groups had an average of around 2,200 personnel, including officers and enlisted.

The name of the plane Xavier and his crew man is called the “Shooting Star”, that will later be renamed to the “Lucky Shooting Star”, as mentioned in a previous chapter.

"Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy" is an iconic World War II song by the Andrews Sisters, written by Don Raye and Hughie Prince, which popularized the boogie-woogie music style and was featured in the Abbott and Costello film Buck Privates (1941).

“I’ll Never Smile Again” was first published in November 1939 but the most successful and well-known recording by Tommy Dorsey and His Orchestra, featuring Frank Sinatra, was released in June 1940.

Drag in the U.S. military, particularly during World War II, was a common, officially sanctioned practice to boost troop morale in an all-male, sex-segregated environment. The Army even published handbooks and provided materials to create costumes for soldier shows featuring male impersonation.

 

John introduction! I’m so excited to have him finally show up. Hope you guys are as excited as me.

Yeah, I really don’t know how B-17 plane crews were formed and I have a feeling they weren’t assigned to specific planes like this but whatever. We’re playing loosey goosey with history here! But from what I can tell, each individual position had its own separate training prior to the crew being formed, at which point additional training occurs together prior to being deployed.

As always, stay tuned for the next chapter!

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of That's Life