Chapter Text
“BREAKING NEWS!”
Descending the grand staircase, Charlie stepped in time with Vaggie hand in hand. The residual tension from their fight fled from their countenance, leaving a calm in its wake. In spite of the trials and tribulations, they were overcoming the crucibles and defying those who would bring them to ruin. Together, they could easily face the Vee’s and the schemes they cooked up.
Admittedly, Husk quit earlier and her dad hadn’t answered her phone call, but that’s okay. Everything was going to be okay.
In retrospect, Charlie realized Angel was right; she’d probably overreacted earlier about her father. The daunting possibility of war plus the inability to mourn her lost friend, drove her sanity to the brink. Once she’d calmed, she spent time thinking long and hard about their interactions and dynamics.
Their relationship had never stood on solid ground, overwhelming and underwhelming in equal measure. Time apart had worn away their ties, until only a thin strand bound them to one another; ready to snap at the slightest pressure or hint of antagonistic intention.
But perhaps the blame for that lay on her own choices.
When her dad initially came at her behest, his immediate disapproval struck like a physical blow. It was casual, unceremonious. Treated like the notions of a flippant dream of a child, unimportant and too naive to hold value. Condescension burned like dry ice, the steam radiating off her discouraged soul, adding a warped filter to his character in her perspective. From that point on, she anticipated disappointment in each interaction, guarding her heart closely to avoid a crushing let down by the man.
But in the anticipation of his faults, it’d started a perpetual self fulfilling cycle of seeking disapproval to justify distance. Purposefully blind to the truth, happy to let him help while keeping herself emotionally remote on a desert island.
While Charlie could bemoan her lonely childhood with him growing up, there was no doubt that in the last month he’d tried repeatedly reaching out to her. Rather than reaching back, she hoarded herself in her own self righteous fury, content to keep him at arms length with a blatant, sanctimonious lie that it was easier this way. No consideration if he could resist the upending waves, content to watch him drift off without a paddle.
The truth ached, quiet and low, waiting for her to find it among the pitfalls of her own depravity.
Rather than accepting it, she played ignorant and refused to relinquish the narrative she’d built. Where he didn’t care, couldn’t truly understand her and that justified labeling him as a problem best left alone. Disparaging the good he’d done to the end of demonizing him into the bad guy. But he hadn’t been, had he? In denigrating his role in her life, she had become the villain of her own story.
That ended today, officially. When he called back, she would request a meeting place to chat. Maybe the ice cream parlor he’d mentioned a few weeks ago, located in Lust. Or maybe I’d he needed some time, they could go to the Harvest Moon festival set to take place in a few weeks. It would be nice to get away from the Circle for a bit.
When the situation with the Vee’s was finally settled, she would try again, putting her best foot forward.
It wasn’t too late, their relationship wouldn’t dissolve like smoke lingering in the wide canyon holding them asunder. She would give him a real chance this time, and, if he was willing, maybe he’d give her a second chance too.
As they stepped into the lobby, the women noticed the hush over the room first. Cherri and a Sinner she didn’t know were seated in front of the TV. The pyro was on the edge of the couch, nails scraping hard into the fabric, lips folded into a strict line. The Sinner had a perturbed look, his comically large nose miniscule in comparison to his gaping maw.
Near the bar, Baxter and Nifty stood, enjoying the music stylings of her tiny bug band. While the scientist was shooting intrigued glances at the TV, the maid seemed to be happily entranced in the swinging melody.
When their arrival was noticed, Cherri rose and dragged them over to the vacant space directly in front of the old box.
“You guys need to hear this.”
On the screen, Katie Killjoy sat slouched behind her desk, makeup clearly slapped on and hair in absolute disarray. Papers were scattered haphazardly about the table, and her signature red blouse was buttoned lopsided. Considering how much stock the newscaster normally put into her trademark appearance, it must have been an extremely rushed broadcast. Her fellow anchor was also noticeably absent.
“We’re sorry for interrupting your regularly scheduled program, or we would be if you weren’t watching ass. This just in, Vox, the sexy CEO of realm famous VOXTECH, has issued a formal apology to one Morningstar.”
“What? Really?” Charlie felt a spark of curious hope bloom, and launched into bouncing excitedly in place to stem off the sudden rush of serotonin. Finally, things really would work out! Maybe they could work together? Using their combined resources, they could definitively prove redemption was possible. And the people would actually hear her out, instead of dismissing her as they had been wont to do recently. Ideas spilled into her mind, concepts weaving into fruition as she buzzed by Vaggie. Meanwhile the woman in question looked skeptical, distrustful and cynical.
“Wait for it.” Cherri hissed, interrupting Charlie’s train of thought.
The camera switched to a press conference happening in front of the Vee’s tower. Vox stood tall on a podium, a somber expression plastered on his face. Behind him the other two Vee’s posed for various shots with the crews surrounding them. They were notably subdued, almost demure, with no snide remarks or rude hand gestures. Rain poured, the sky screaming as lightning struck the building behind them.
“My Fellow inhabitants of Hell,” Vox started after the lens focused on him, “It is with a heavy heart that I extend a formal apology on behalf of all of the Vee’s to his royal Majesty, King Lucifer Morningstar.”
“What?” Charlie asked, deflating slightly. Confusion ran rampant in her head; did they even interact before the rally? Her father was a notorious recluse, the chances would be astronomically abysmal, “Why would he apologize to my dad? He barely even met him.”
“Well,” Cherri threw a small piece of candy at the top of the demon princess’s head, “Maybe if you would shut the fuck up, you’ll find out.”
“We previously believed that Lucifer wished to silence the voice of the people, that he didn’t care about those of us stuck in this eternal misery. But new evidence has been presented, and the truth has shined a light on his actions.” The shark demon cut himself off, leaning in close to the microphone. The camera zoomed in close, and the shadows of the surrounding reporters and their umbrellas casting a foreboding shade over his vexed expression.
“Charlie Morningstar’s little angelic whore forced our King to act against us.”
“WHAT?” Oily hate lit aflame inside blazing the peace she’d carried, and the all-consuming outrage bloomed outward, exploding the wall next to the bar. Debris and dust clouded the air, and it was only Vaggie holding tightly to her hand to keep Charlie from completely losing it. Shutting out the world to steady her infernal heritage, she forced calm breaths. With how devastatingly the last blow up destroyed her credibility as a therapist, she needed to get a handle on it. Her friends hadn’t mentioned it, but she could tell; their expressions betrayed their dissatisfaction with her eruption.
“That’s right. It has come to our attention that His Majesty had no intention of stopping our peaceful protest. In fact, it was only after intensive pressure from one nearest to his own daughter that his hand was forced.”
Stepping back from the podium, the CEO swiveled around to stand in front of it. Without the wood blocking the video, they were able to see him in his full glory.
The suit he wore was distinctly different from his usual attire. The blue was swapped out for a blood red, and the inner vest, while still having red stripes, was now mostly pure white. On his lapel there was a small snake and apple pin, destroying the illusion of subtlety. One of his hands held what looked like a small remote in a flippant grip. Pity flickered onto his screen in a clear show of faux-empathy and he pushed the button.
“Vaggie convinced my dad to go confront Vox for me.”
Charlie’s voice rang out of the speakers, and she felt herself seize up. That was impossible. There were no bugs in the hotel; Alastor made sure of it.
‘But Alastor isn’t here anymore’ A voice that sounded eerily like her mother murmured into her conscience. Breath froze in her lungs despite the intense predominating heat, and spasms wracked her frame. The room was all at once too big, and too small at the same time.
“There you have it folks,” Vox said plainly, “Straight from the horse’s mouth.”
Anxiously, she waited for the camera feed to cut off, but it kept rolling. Vox placed a hand over his heart and invited the other Vee’s to join him front and center. The media Overlords stood shoulder to shoulder, rain dripping from their clothing, acting completely unbothered.
“We at VOXTECH would like to offer our sincerest condolences to our Sovereign Ruler, as something even more has unsettling has been revealed. We’ll be airing the disturbing content following this broadcast. But until then, we would like to extend a hand of understanding to Our Monarch.”
With that, the three Vee’s bowed, though the other two seemed more irritated and reluctant to do it. As they looked into the camera, Vox’s screen glitched for a moment, static flashing an ominous grin before settling back into the saddened expression.
“If you’re listening Lucifer, know that we are here to help you in any way we can. We would love to work together. Trust US with anything you need.”
Finally, the camera flipped back to the studio. Katie snapped her neck to the side with her malicious smile painted on. “Always knew that girl had issues. But stay tuned, we at VOXTECH have something we believe you, the people, need to hear. It will reveal the miserable existence our poor Daddy Devil dealt with on a daily basis. This recording has been sent in by a concerned citizen, and let me say that after hearing it, you won’t see a certain princess the same way again.”
With that, the studio’s overhead lights dimmed, high-pitched static ringing in the background.
“It’s all his fault!”
‘No, they couldn’t.’ Charlie collapsed inwards, the venomous speech screaming over the airwaves. Vaggie tried to catch her rapid decline, but she was somewhere else, lower. Colder. An icy creature curled up her spine, its immense weight wrapping tentacles over her limbs. Clinging and writhing in a mass of melancholic despair.
“He should know better than anyone how hard it is to do anything in the hole, but every time I turn around he’s doing something else to fuck up my life.”
“He never even believed in redemption or in me. Fuck, he doesn’t care about anyone but himself! He always has!”
“I hate him!”
The others were staring intently, holes boring into the mantle of her shattered core. But she didn’t care right now, couldn’t care. In fact, care wasn’t remotely in the same universe as her currently. She could only stare at the screen in abject horror. Guilt tore into the fabric of her reality, ripping her mental well-being to shreds. Surrounded by people she’d come to see as her own, Charlie felt entirely, agonizingly alone.
It was supposed to be a private conversation between friends, a way to vent out her feelings before they boiled her alive. It was never meant to be turned into a public spectacle.
Blood pounded in her eardrums, the bright light permeating the room blinding the shadows taking refuge in the corners of her mind. She couldn’t get enough air; the noose was already tight against her throat. How many more swings did she have left before the trap door dropped out altogether?
“-lie. CHARLIE,” Vaggie’s voice drifted to her, and she realized that she was lying sideways on the floor with her legs hugged tightly to herself. The fallen Angel was close, eyebrows pinched and with a worried frown. “I need you to take a deep breath for me. You’re having a panic attack.”
Easier said than done. It felt like lead pipes crushed her lungs, torturous short haggard breaths were nigh impossible. What was she going to do? Privacy violations aside, those dreaded emotions were intended specifically to be heard solely by her closest companions.
Now everyone knows. She needed to talk to someone. She wanted her mom. She wanted her dad-
HER DAD.
“Fuck!” Fear clawed up her throat as she fumbled her phone out of her pocket. He was never supposed to hear about this, it was therapy, a way to navigate her feelings that intertwined into an uncontrollable tangle. They needed to talk, desperately. Maybe he hadn’t seen it yet? He rarely watched television, said it scrambled the brain. She dialed the number, mistyping in her haste, and waited anxiously, only for it to go straight to voicemail. She tried again. And again.
“It’s been repeating for the last 30 minutes. We tried getting your attention, but you were both.. Busy.”
As her call went to voicemail once more, dread ate the marrow of her bones. It felt like an omen of the future.
--------
Clawed fists dug deep into his upper arms, bludgeoning into the skin and bruising. It’d been only a couple of days since Lucifer returned, but the void ate at his vital organs and took up residence beneath his sternum. Empty rooms silenced the mornings, and darkened halls haunted the night. Nothing mattered here, not in this elegant prison.
A full monotonous day passed, before he even remembered to eat anything. Technically, he didn’t need to in order to survive, but the cramping in his stomach was a painful reminder that just because he couldn’t die didn't mean he couldn’t suffer. Unfortunately, he hadn’t the time to restock the neglected cupboards in the meantime. Instead of checking, he accepted his fate of waiting until he had the strength to return to the land of the living. While, yes, he could conjure confections should the need arise, it was unsatisfying, like eating dust. The flavors weren’t quite right, no matter how many endeavors he attempted.
Mysteriously, a plate of steaming chicken appeared on the side table, followed by another and another. Lucifer had been bewildered, until he caught sight of crimson skin and ebony hair and horns.
When he had finally caught the tiny imp, he finally had his answer about all the strange occurrences that’d happened since his return. The Sins each sent a representative to watch over the royal palace and family in the interim, observing and cleaning but staying out of sight of the monarch. Evidently, the others worried that should he find out about their influence behind it, he’d assume it was a way to secretly spy on They paid extra to have them stay after hours, keeping an eye out. Except Mammon, who was quoted telling his own representative, ‘You go in, you work, you leave. I ain’t paying you to muck about.’
They had worked there for years, since Lilith had left, trading out for a different race when their contract expired. Her name was Jezzie, and she’d been as shocked at his return as he himself was. She’d been instated only a month ago and was under the impression that the building would remain vacant with his departure.
But now he was back and based on what he was hearing, it was unlikely he would be leaving again any time soon.
Jezzie was a diminutive imp barely scraping his knee, all wild locks and a melon too big for her neck. She helped him with whatever he required, and seemed weirdly pleased to do so. Almost too chipper to serve him meals, clean the palace and talk to him for hours. When she offered to help him bathe after drawing the bath, he drew a firm line. Luckily, she wasn’t too upset.
But while her presence edged off the crippling loneliness, it wasn’t enough. At the hotel there was a constraint stream of sound booming from each floor, from stomping footsteps to conversation that flooded from the walls like waterfalls. Noise pollution filled every corner and people muddled every room.
It was overwhelming when he first moved in, but he had slowly gotten used to the noise. Now even with Jezzie's constant chatter, the silence was waiting past each bend of the hall, hiding in every interstice. He’d taken to blasting the TV volume just to feel a semblance of normal. Which brought him to his current predicament…
Lucifer stared blankly at the screen, having a hard time comprehending the events that played out and what this meant going forward. It’d already looped twice, interrupting his soap opera just as Sir Quackington left Reginald and they had engaged in an extensive discussion debating the reasoning behind it.
Or he sobbed uncontrollably, while Jezzie watched uncomfortably. But that’s neither here nor there.
The first time it aired, he honestly didn't know what to think or feel. It was like he was watching it a mile away, able to see the colors but not comprehend the plot. When the bedraggled blonde harpy started running her mouth, he’d been tempted to shut the TV off immediately and find something more pleasant to do… like amputating a limb.
Lucifer couldn’t stand hearing people talk and talk, on and on for the sake of it. But when it switched to that TV headed prick and his little goons, he’d reluctantly decided to listen. If they were speaking out about Charlie then he needed to know.
Instead, they apologized.
To him.
For some fucking reason.
It befuddled his brain, and left him unable to discern a motive why. A not insignificant part of why he avidly avoided Sinners was because he could never figure out what their end game was. Everyone wanted something, but instead of being straightforward with their desires, they hid under a facade of grace. Complementing and dropping hints without coming out and saying their intentions. No doubt, there was masterful manipulation afoot. The problem was... Why? What were they trying to gain from appealing to him?
Before the fall, his siblings had told him that his naivety was his greatest weakness, only surpassed by his pride. It became a sort of daily ritual for them, his brother would paste an emotion on his face, and Lucifer guessed if the angel was being honest. It was one of their favorite games.
They would play time and time again. Time and time again, he would fail. But that was before, he was far older and wiser now. Humanity craved nothing but greed and power, satisfied only when it meant the poverty and dilapidation of their fellow man.
Finally, the interview was over. He stood to shut it off, when Charlie’s voice cut through the air. His claw hovered over the dial but froze at the rage spitting out from the speaker.
“It’s all his fault! He should know better than anyone how hard it is to do anything in this shithole, but every time I turn around, he’s doing something else to fuck up my life.”
Charlie?
“He never believed in redemption or in me. Fuck, he doesn’t care about anyone but himself! He always has! I hate him!”
There was a rhythmic pounding nearby, hard and unrelenting. Confusion flooded rationality, leaving reason to sink beneath the surface. Surely, she had to be talking about someone else, anyone else. Sure, they weren’t on the best of terms, and he’d never been a half-decent father. But Charlie would never say anything like that about him. Kindness flowed through her veins, singing praises and beautiful understanding in the very fibers that made up her body.
He was begging for an excuse to explain, to justify the abject cruelty Anything beyond the simple but painful truth. Confliction whirled under him, pulling into its abyss of denial and fear.
Sweat wet his palms, and he had a distinct feeling of Deja vu. The terrifying sensation gnawed at the back of his mind.
“He’s the reason my mom left. He’s the reason why no one is listening to me. He’s the reason the world has fallen apart. I-”
Somewhere in his angelic being, gooey black dread bubbled away. Unconsciously, he leaned closer to the screen.
“I wish he wasn’t my father.”
The program had begun looping, but none of it made sense anymore. The words echoed nonstop, bouncing off the inner corners of his skull. They blended and melded into a cacophony of overlapping speech. Lilith’s loving but almost patronizing sympathy. Charlie’s reluctant love and acceptance. Lilith’s drifting affections, the flames dying and neither of them trying to re-stoke the embers. Charlie's rage induced words of loathing hissing venom like the serpent that started his decline. Lilith. Charlie.
Lilith.
Charlie.
Michael.
CHARLIE.
CHARLIE.
CHARLIE.
“Sir?” Jezzie’s voice broke through the fog, and he realized the pounding had emanated from his chest the whole time. He turned to the little imp; concern plastered over her features. Did she mean it? Did anyone? “Are you okay?”
“I’m-” Lucifer started, but he couldn’t speak. What was there to say?
Maybe... Maybe it was a trick? Yeah, that would explain it. There was no way Charlie would ever say something like that. True, he had messed up. Badly. But that didn’t mean she- she hated him. There had to be another explanation. There had to. Maybe he should go talk to her? Tell her how sorry he was and that he would do anything to make it up to her?
Next to him, his phone lit up, drawing his attention to it. It was as though the king were in a daze as he typed in the phone number he had forced himself to memorize.
The phone rang on the other line once. Twice. Then went to voicemail.
He tried again. Once. Twice. Voicemail.
Cramps ate at his hand as he clenched the phone tight in his fist and forced himself to dial again.
Once. Voicemail.
Again.
The number you have called cannot be reached at this time. They don’t want to talk to you, please take the hint!
Something cracked in the vicinity.
“Sir?”
Jezzie was suddenly in front of him, gently pulling the cracked cellphone from his hand. Gold ichor dripped from the tiny cuts left on his palm from the glass. It left a small trail down the burnt skin towards the pure white. It had been so long since he’d bled, and already he felt the skin stitch back together.
“She didn’t answer.” He stated softly, eyes still trained on his glittering hand. Everything felt so far away at that moment. A million thoughts raced past yet would evaporate like drops of steaming water the moment his one. Jezzie takes a cold wet cloth to his hand, delicately peeling away the beautiful gold to reveal black. On his finger, his gold ring shined brightly, mocking in its brilliance.
“Maybe she’s busy?” Jezzie asked charitably, but it lacked conviction. She’d watched the broadcast, sitting next to him when it took over their program. It left little to the imagination, “She might want to talk in person first? That was a lot.”
Lucifer hesitantly turned to the little imp, painful longing deep in his crimson depths. Before either of them could speak again, loud banging echoed through the vacant halls of the palace. Neither moved a muscle, anticipation etching both their beings. No one came to the Palace, only servants and the royals. Not even the Sins had deigned to visit in centuries. And with Lilith currently missing, that left only one possible person. A thud pulsed deep in the chambers of his heart.
Another loud knock came from the front door, and Lucifer clambered eagerly to his feet. With a snap of his fingers he teleported directly to the Foyer, leaving a single rubber where he stood.
“Wait!” Jezzie screamed just as he vanished, desperately trying to scrabble to her feet. She began running as fast as her tiny legs could carry her towards the entrance of the Palace. A bad feeling itched under her skin and urged her onward.
If that happened to be the Master’s child, well... There were some choice words that came to mind. There was a particular soft spot reserved solely for the monarch, and the thought of a slight against his person sent her into a defensive fury. Especially if said slight came from someone so near and dear to him.
And it wasn’t just her.
Already messages lit up her phone from Pride Hellborn who had managed to see the broadcast. There weren't very many yet, admittedly, but the few were highly vocal. It wasn’t a secret among them that the King had been mistreated, and robbed of the respect he deserved by the damned flooding in from the Earth. It was sickening, the blatant disregard they showed. The derision caused those born in Hell to evade the Ring as a whole, and eschew their products.
The video was quickly being posted on social media platforms, the audience expanding like wildfire as the minutes ticked by, and the comments were brutal. She only hoped that the fallout didn’t reach the depressed man.
---------
Charlie paced back and forth, stuck in a seemingly never-ending rut as her phone went to voicemail again. With a curse, she hurled it directly at a wall; it hit with a dull thud before falling to the scratched hard wood. It did little to quell the fear induced anger swelling out of control.
Twenty seven. Twenty seven phone calls.
All straight to voicemail.
After the news alert started over, with Katie stating they would be repeating the story for the rest of the day, Cherri had shut off the TV. Now they were all here, the tension thick and suffocating. It had been a half hour, but no one had moved from their spots. It was as if they were stuck in place, bodies unwilling to function until the suspense was resolved. Only Charlie had been moving with manic energy, attempting to call over and over.
For a moment she stood anxiously wiping her sweaty hands on her pants, then sped over to pick up her phone to try again.
Above them, lights flickered, and bottles behind the bar shattered into a firecracker of booze as a blocked number message played.
The number you have called cannot be reached at this time. They don’t want to talk to you, please take the hint!
“Fucking damn it.” She screamed, nearly throwing the infernal device again. A hand covering her own gave her pause, and she turned to look at Vaggie who was carefully lowering the fisted cell. There was a sad smile on her lips and worry in her eye.
“Hun, I know you don’t want to hear this, but you have to calm down,” Pulling her by the fist still caught in a death grip, Vaggie led her to the open loveseat, “Your dad just needs some space right now, calling him over and over isn’t going to change that.”
“I know, but I have to talk to him,” Charlie stared forlornly at the empty call log. When was the last time they had talked before this? Days? Weeks? She wasn’t sure. They had been so busy with the hotel and trying to prove Vox wrong, that she had left her side of their bond hanging. She never considered that his half may become closed off in the meantime, “He was never supposed to hear that.”
“Well, seems like he fuckin did, Princess,” Cherri piped up from where she had been lounging. She kicked her leg off the couch, and leaned forward onto her knees in irritation, “Sounds to me like the one preaching about all of us Sinners needing therapy was projecting her own daddy issues.”
“That’s enough, Cherri,” Vaggie growled, walking around to stand in front of the other, “You’re not helping.”
“Excuse me,” The pyro thrust herself up to standing, coming head to head with the fallen angel, “But if she didn’t want him to know what she really thought, why the hell did she say it? You know Vox has had cameras recording your asses for weeks now.”
“It was supposed to be just between Angel and I,” Head firmly in her hands now, Charlie felt a piece of her break. “I just wanted to talk to my friend. I never wanted to hurt my dad, but I felt like I was going to implode. Fuck, what am I going to do?”
A single tear fell but was summarily wiped away. Above them, the chandelier dimmed as if in sympathy. The pipes overhead screamed with noise, rushing water drowning out the upper levels. It was a miracle this hotel had stayed as put together as it had, without her dad around to repair the wear and tear. When Adam had destroyed the previous Hazbin Hotel, it felt like her dreams had crumbled to decay with the building. But then her dad swooped in and rallied them to fix it.
She had never thanked him for that.
Would she ever get to?
The thought shook something loose, and Charlie numbly felt herself trying to dial one more time.
The door slammed open, cracking the drywall on the other side. Lightning pierced the sky behind the slight frame soaked in the doorway, obscuring their view beyond a short silhouette. Dropping the partially dialed cell on the ground, the Princess jumped up and embraced the figure. Tears freely poured onto the shoulder as she hugged as tight as she could.
“Dad, I’m so glad you came back. I’m so so sorry, I swear I didn’t mean any of it.”
“Uh, did I miss something?” Husk asked, looking worse for wear. His fur and ears were sopping wet and sticking to his head. Charlie held on a moment longer, knowing that pulling back would break the illusion. Slowly releasing the feline demon, the princess took a few steps back.
“You missed everything, Pussy Cat.” Something flickered across the bomber’s face too fast for anyone to catch, “Come join the flogging, we’re nearly to the hysterical crying portion.”
With arms tight around herself, Charlie turned away from the group. Deep in the sickest section of her mind, she knew she deserved this. Visceral self-loathing coursed in and out, leaving a shell to hold the rest together. Only her girlfriend coming up to hold her from behind kept her grounded in the moment. The soft curvature of the other woman rescued her from the ocean currently brewing deep inside. She needed to talk to her dad. That was all there was to it, even if he never wanted to speak to her again afterwards. She had to tell him she was sorry.
“I need to talk to my dad,” She said tersely, “I need him to know how sorry I am. I have to see him.”
Behind her Vaggie let out a soft sigh, breath warming the soft hairs on the back of her neck. It was clear she didn’t like the idea, but that the angel wouldn’t stop her. Instead, with a final tight squeeze, she released the princess. Clasping their hands together, she laid a soft kiss on each of the fingers. Then she stepped back with a nod.
“Whatever you need to do, I’m behind you a hundred percent.”
Charlie sent a genuine smile at her partner, grateful to the angel for sticking by her and together they left the hotel. She knew the only place her dad would have gone; she just hoped he would answer when she got there.
----------
Appearing in the foyer of the Palace in a swirl of flame, Lucifer quickly adjusted his vest and jacket, before placing his hat back on top of his head. It had been days since he had been out and about. Without the need to keep up appearances, he’d allowed his wardrobe to fall to the wayside. But he would never look grubby for his little girl.
If she was still his little girl.
With a few final touches, the king grabbed the large ornate handle and nearly ripped the door off its hinges. The ten-foot-tall heavy oak bounced off the marble banister near it, shaking the entire mural ceiling depicting the seven rings. Lucifer was too excited to notice the flakes falling around him to the rosewood.
“Char-Char, my lovely daughter who I love and miss! Are you here about the little TV thing?” He forced a smile, hoping it came off convincingly, “Don’t worry about it at all, I figured it was just a prank or-”
Finally stopping to actually check who had knocked on his door, the rest of his words sank to his stomach.
“Hey-wait! You're-” His shoulders slumped with the realization, “You’re not Charlie.”
“You’re royal Majesty,” Vox stood on his stoop, a sharp smile cutting his screen, “We have a lot to talk about.