Chapter Text
From the time they opened the Hotel a couple months ago, Vaggie has wanted nothing more from Charlie than to get a little firmer with the Sinners. To be even half as stern as Vaggie knows she can be— as has been before, really, with Vaggie, and the twins, and with Lucifer, apparently.
But not with the Sinners.
So… seeing Charlie in the hallway with Pentious backing away from her surprises Vaggie. He's as flat against the wall as he can manage, teary-eyed.
Charlie visually isn't as angry as she could be, looking her usual self, no more Devilish than usual, but Pentious is stammering through an explanation of whatever he wanted to say or show her.
She interrupts him. “No. I have talked to you about this, and I know Vaggie has talked to you about this. There is no reason you should ever be coming through this door. That is inappropriate and unacceptable. This is my home. My family is in here.”
He whines a half-broken, “Charlie…”
“No, I need you to tell me you understand.”
“I-I-” he hiccups. “I understand.”
“Good. Take your ass downstairs to your room now.” She doesn't need the emphasis, he's running- slithering? out of the hallway and off the floor before she finishes her sentence.
Vaggie comes up from behind and squeezes Charlie's shoulder. “Well.”
Charlie sighs sadly. She pulls Vaggie in and hugs her for real. Her face is warm where she presses it against the top of Vaggie's head, and she inhales. She always likes the smell, what she uses for Vaggie's hair.
She speaks into the strands. “I made him cry.”
“Yeah,” Vaggie has to stop herself from sounding too satisfied. Pentious crying doesn't mean all that much, anyway. He cried over Group yesterday. “You had to.”
“I did.”
Oh, that's not good. Vaggie turns around to see Charlie's face. Tears.
“He doesn't listen,” Charlie says. “And Via's in there,” Charlie continues. “Fuck, my Dad's in there. He's already nervous about Sinners, he'd cry over one of them in his living room.”
Vaggie nods and agrees aloud, then tucks her head into Charlie's shoulder. It tickles when Charlie sniffs her again, her nose shoved behind her ear this time. Vaggie jerks. “Loquita!” She pushes Charlie, cackling now, off of her. “Why do you do that?”
Seeing that Octavia isn't in her room— or, checking, in any of the new apartment's living spaces, or now Charlie's office— has Vaggie a little concerned. What has her even more so is that Charlie seems completely unbothered by it.
“But where is she?”
Charlie shrugs. “Somewhere in the Hotel. She wouldn't have gone anywhere without saying something.” She looks down at the pile of bullshit paperwork on her desk, completely calm, as if someone in their care isn't unaccounted for. Whose father was nearly assassinated and they still don't know why or if Octavia is under the same threat.
And Vaggie can't stand it. “Don't you think you might be too relaxed about this? After Stolas was-”
“Don't say that so loud,” Charlie cuts her off. Vaggie nearly jumps, but the words die in her throat. Charlie puts down whatever she was checking and looks around the room, then says, “Close the door.”
Vaggie does, and sits down when prompted.
Charlie stares at the door for a few seconds longer, and her curtained window, before turning on the little noise machine on her desk. She continues, “Stolas was attacked by a hired hand.”
Okay. Even though that's the first Vaggie has had that confirmed, she had suspicions. She nods along. “Whose hired hand?”
“We don't know yet. We have a name and a picture.” Charlie passes a photo to Vaggie. He's rugged looking, a pale pink, wearing a cowboy hat. With a shitty grin and a shittier mustache.
“But you haven't found him,” Vaggie finishes. It's better than nothing, she supposes, but still not great.
Charlie shakes her head. “People know to look for him. And no one in Paimon's channels has seen or heard anything of him.”
Right. “And… Paimon?” Vaggie is fine. She can't get frustrated every time Charlie drops a name she doesn't know.
“He hears a lot of things. It's a big part of his Domain. He's our best guy for information.”
Vaggie nods. “Got it, he's the best, but he can't find this guy.” She looks back down at the picture of the smug looking man, leaning against raw planks, what looks like the wall of a shed.
Charlie sighs. “Well, Wrath is a big place. It's got desert, caves, canyons, mines, and we're looking for one Imp that doesn't want to be found.”
That sounds like giving up. And Vaggie hates that.
“Don't,” Charlie interrupts. “We're not giving up. We're waiting. He has to turn up in a town eventually.”
The rest of is a similar waiting game. There's nothing on who hired Striker. Right now their running theory is it was someone after his political positions.
And someone almost killed him, so of course people are talking about it. But it seems that the people who know what happened have been clever enough not to talk about it— so far.
Charlie says that much is also just a waiting game. Somebody knows something, she says, nobody can stay quiet forever. Paimon already knows it was one of his, and secrets never keep in Goetia households.
Vaggie thinks about that for a moment before she says. “So, wouldn't Octavia also be a target?”
Charlie sighs. It's a long, tired sigh. The same way she sighed when she told Vaggie the conclusions she came to over Stolas's little Imp boyfriend and the fate of his little murder-for-hirr business. The sigh that means she spent hours circling information. Talking herself into believing something she doesn't like but knows is true.
“It's possible,” she admits. “But they are Prophets, that's not something just anyone can do. It's more likely they'd be after him as Astronomer or as Secretary. You don't have to be a Prophet to write almanacs or transcribe meetings or help Dad with paperwork. Via is still only seventeen. She wouldn't be our first choice, so it'd be unnecessary, and pretty risky, to kill her for either.”
“So you're not scared someone will go after her.”
Charlie stares. “Of course I'm scared. But we can't stay up her ass forever. As long as she's in this building, there are several barriers and several people someone would have to go through to hurt her.”
Vaggie knows that. She does. Whatever Alastor put up around the building makes it bear impossible for a stranger to enter through any way but the front door. And then, if they did… and she isn't actually sure what protections Lucifer may have put up. But she is sure he must have.
“I still want to know where she is.”
Charlie shrugs. “She's seventeen. Try texting her instead of panicking. Charlie passes Vaggie her phone.
Vaggie blinks, really confused. What the fuck does that mean?
Vaggie turns the phone screen back to Charlie, who, when she reads it, finally looks as concerned or maybe just as puzzled as she is.