Leslie peered around the corner of the hotel lobby, to check the fireplace for free seats. Sadly, demons crowded the common area, many of them toasting marshmallows. There were more guests than ever this month. So she went again to the reception hall and grabbed a few drinks and a table.
Someone had gone nuts in here with the Hallowe'en decorations. The wallpaper, formerly cobalt blue, was now a tangy orange and covered in spiderwebs. Fake bats hung from the ceiling. In the corners, papier-mâché cauldrons vomited fog onto the floor. It was a bit much, to be honest; Leslie felt like she was in fucking Hogwarts.
She wondered what Christmas would be like: her first Christmas in Hell, circumstances permitting. Soon after that would be the anniversary of her death. God, it was hard to believe so much time-
"This seat taken?"
She looked up and saw Decider, in a new Foo Fighters band shirt, nervously fidgeting. He was such a stranger to her now, in every sense of the word. Leslie grimaced; but the man looked so pathetic, she couldn't turn him away.
"You're not meant to talk to me," she said, kicking the chair out.
"I know. Just five minutes," he bargained, sitting down. It was a round table, made to seat seven, and he respectfully left an empty chair between them, the one she'd kicked. "I knew I was going to Hell," he began, "actually saw those devils they tell you-"
"Karl."
"Right. Er…" He scrapped that whole story and moved to the crux of the matter. "First of all, I wanted to make sure you're OK. You were pretty upset last time I saw you."
"Yeah, well…" Leslie shrugged.
"You getting any help for it?" Decider asked. "They told me there's a hotel therapist. You should, y'know… talk some of this out with them."
As if it were that easy. Even without the non-disclosure clause in Alastor's contract, Leslie wasn't thrilled about seeing a therapist. To sit in a dark room, recounting all the things wrong with her life, didn't sound productive, and she told him so. "I made room for more dancing in my schedule," she added.
A ragged sigh. "We've been over this and over this. Fuck, if I'm getting help, you should be."
"Don't tell me what to do."
"Les, please just… I don't wanna repeat of last time. I'm coming at you as an adult here. Hate me, whatever, but you have a really bad way of coping with things!"
Leslie sat straighter, about to throw it back in his face - the substance abuse, the infidelity - but she felt her ears raise. Bringing out her demon form was the last thing she wanted. She heard one of the last things Alastor said to her: Let go. Her anger faded, and the ears dropped.
Decider peered at her. Still fidgeting.
"OK, listen," she said calmly, "I'm dealing with this in my own way. You've got four more minutes."
"Right," he said, locking his fingers before him on the table, like a harried businessman trying to broach a deal. "I know I got a lot to say sorry for… It's like, where do you even start, y'know?" He looked at her, and Leslie wondered if he was sincerely asking how to apologize. "I've missed you, Lellybean. I've missed you so much."
A demon began to snigger at the next table, to Leslie's chagrin. Oh, how difficult it was to be alone. Mustering some dignity, she asked Decider how he'd been surviving the last year. "Living with Jordan?"
"Kinda," he admitted, then gave a bitter laugh. "'Love the one you're with', right? And maybe... y'know, I'm going to be honest with you, 'cause you'd be insulted otherwise. Here it is, straight-up. Maybe I did still love Jordan, like the tiniest leftover bit. I was trying to find the woman I promised myself to, years ago, and she wasn't there anymore. All we did was call on Marco and get wasted."
"Sure."
"But what you and me had was the real thing, and… oh man, I fucked up. I fucked up so bad." His voice wavered, like he was holding back tears. Oh, don't you dare cry, she thought. Don't you dare. Her own throat tightened, and she fixed her eyes on the table.
"Yeah," she said, "we both did."
"But that's why I'm here," he went on, as surely as if he'd practiced the speech all morning. "I'm at this hotel to fix things, and be a totally different guy. The whole phoenix from the ashes thing. You don't have to talk to me until I'm done, but… you being here too… it has to mean something."
"In Hell?"
"In this place." Decider gestured to their immediate surroundings. "I don't even believe in fate, but I believe some people can earn second chances, if they work hard enough." He looked at her. "Even if it takes years, I don't care. What I want is to be the kind of man you could love again."
His hand drifted across the table, resting near hers, without actually touching. Probably wary of being hit if he tried. Leslie pulled her arms tight across her body, because God help her, she wanted to take his hand. She wanted to blow past everything she knew to be true, and be with Karlton under a blanket, watching some stupid movie like old times. It would be so easy.
But then she came to her senses. Maybe he'd change, but for how long? Life in Hell was a lot of stress, a lot of pressure. If she forgave Decider, and gave him that security he wanted, he could start to drift again.
No. After her final month of sin, Leslie would have to be single for a while.
"Karl," she said, then sighed, correcting herself, "Decider... I'm with someone else."
The weight of the statement didn't hit him for a few seconds. "What do you mean, with?"
"Seeing. Another guy."
"What?" Now Decider's features crumpled in confusion. "Since when?"
"Seven months ago."
A long, low groan. "'Love the one you're with'," he echoed. His head snapped back to her. "Do you love him? I mean… Oh, hey, you a'ight?"
As Leslie was a little sick in her mouth, Decider put a hand on her shoulder, and she let him, buying herself some time to think. What to tell him? She didn't love Alastor, not even remotely… but she needed a clean break, for her sanity. This was the quickest, most certain way to do it. "Yeah, pretty much," she said, almost apologetic. What sense does that make? You've got nothing to be sorry for.
Decider shook his head. He kept shaking, like that skull of his was too cluttered to think. "This doesn't change things," he said, "I'm still staying. Who is he, that pink guy with the arms?"
No… no, that was a lie she couldn't possibly keep up. "Angel's a friend," she admitted, slugging Decider's hand away, "a very, very gay friend."
"Well, I don't see you hang out with anyone else. Who is he?"
"Karl, enough!" she said, hitting the table, and the neighboring demons ooooooh'd loudly, like the studio audience of a bad sitcom. "It doesn't matter who I'm seeing, or whether you, what, approve of him? It's my business."
"I'm trying to help you! For all intents and purposes, you were my wife, babe. I don't want you to get hurt."
Images of Alastor's snarling grin came to mind. His teeth and claws.
"I'm sorry," Leslie said. Then she got up, finished her drinks, and left, giving the finger to those other demons. Not a great final talk with Decider - she lost a few points by gargling gin like a lush - but it was done. Just one more month, and Leslie could start her life again.
o - o - o - o - o
The hotel counsellor was a non-binary demon named Gorgel, who looked human, except for a magnificent pair of horns. Charlie was quite jealous of these horns, which outmatched her own even in demon form. Gorgel was also, as it happened, exceedingly Scottish.
"Come in," the counsellor said, "Ah'm jus' gonnae eat this while we chat." Gorgel held aloft an enormous pot of yoghurt, almost like a trophy, and Charlie nodded as she curled up on the chaise longue. "Wannae hear what yer shitty guests hae telt me this week?"
"No! No, no, no," Charlie scolded. "We don't break confidentiality, not unless-"
"Unless thair's a risk of harm tae 'emselves or others," Gorgel finished. "Aye, I ken. But thair's nothin' tae dae in this place, and Ah'm no' allowed a wee nashgab wi' a co-founder?"
Sometimes it was hard to understand what the hell Gorgel was saying, but Charlie was more or less used to it now. She got comfortable, lounging on her side. "Nashgab?"
"Gossip, yer highness."
"I see. Well, has anyone else decided to use your services?"
"Naw, still nae new'uns. Ah keep chippin' away at yer friend an aw', but nae luck thair. Fowk like him tend tae think they've nocht tae gain ootae therapy."
Charlie blinked rapidly. "Are you saying Al is a narcissist or something?"
Rolling their eyes, Gorgel answered, "Ah simply widnae ken, yer highness. Bastar' willnae see me, so Ah can only speculate. Dinnae worry, the minute he comes in tae whine aboot hoo hard his fuckin' life is, ye'll be the first tae hear."
Charlie nodded. "Thanks, I guess."
"Richt, so," Gorgel said, slurping yoghurt off their chin, "aw the recent bookin's, eh? Ye must be busy."
"You have no idea," Charlie sighed gustily. The Happy Hotel was almost at capacity this season, but not for the reason of redemption. Most demons simply believed Alastor would use his powers to keep the exterminators from the building. Maybe he could; she didn't know.
Meanwhile, the anticipation of the next cleanse could be felt in every pore and crack of this hellhole. Take yesterday, for instance. Someone waited until the dead of night to stick posters to the walls of the hotel lobby: posters with such legends as "You deserve this", "The end is nigh", and "Sinning means death". It was so fatalistic, Charlie could hardly bear it. With a little help from Husk and Niffty, she tore them down and replaced them with Hallowe'en decorations - much nicer than the alternative.
"S'gottae be tough," conceded Gorgel. "Ye wannae believe the rehab thing is workin'..."
"Right! But it's almost time for an extermination and I have nothing to show for it."
The counsellor shrugged, licking the lid of their yoghurt. "It's no'... nothing," they countered, mocking Charlie's accent. "Guests're fair happy, richt? Safe an' secure?"
Safe and secure for now, Charlie thought. She only hoped the hotel would be an effective sanctuary, should the worst come to pass. In vain, she'd appealed to her parents, finally catching them on the phone. "Dad? No, listen. They- I'm just asking for a little help!"
Her father gave a dismissive snort. "For the ungenerates? The building I gave you should suffice," he said. "Hell, with the renovations, it's in a better state now than when I gifted it to you."
"But our estate is the safest place I know. The guests would be on the grounds for one day!"
"Plenty of theft and destruction can happen in a day."
Charlie tried to explain that her guests weren't like that, when her mother came in on speakerphone to say her piece. "There's every chance your sinners could be redeemed during the next rapture," she said helpfully, "while the angels are down here. You want those angels to find your sinners, don't you sweetheart?"
"Well… I guess, if-"
"There you are then!"
Then they hung up to attend some event with the Von Eldritches. Some princess she was turning out to be. The tiniest bit of responsibility, and Charlie still managed to screw it up. All she needed was one, just one redemption!
"Here's hoo Ah see it," said Gorgel, tossing the empty yoghurt pot away and tearing open a miniature packet of cornflakes. "Yer ma an' pa hae a reputation tae protect. They've gottae stay on brand, an' even if they dae believe in yer cause, it's political suicide tae say so."
"I know."
"Plus, yer pa still has beef wi' God, richt? Matter o' pride, not tae be swept up wi' this charity an' virtue shite. Like, dae the pair even still chat? Does Lucy hae a direct line tae the Big Man?"
"I mean, yes," Charlie said, "but the line only goes in one direction. Why am I telling you this?"
Gorgel shrugged, chewing their cornflakes with a hearty scrunch-scrunch-scrunch. "Can we swap seats, yer highness? Ma back is givin' me jip."
"Sure." With another sigh, Charlie got off the chaise longue so the counsellor could lie comfortably, and she took the seat Gorgel just occupied.
"Ta muchly!" Scrunch-scrunch. "Tha's better. Also, Ah've an idea for ye. If yer priority is gettin' a'body intae Heaven, ye shuid jus' focus on the best wans."
"The best ones?"
"Aye, whi'ever bastar's makin' the most progress," said Gorgel. "Like, if ye've three kids gaein'ae scule, an' aw o' them hae shite grades except wan, whit's the quickest way tae get a kiddo on the honor roll?"
Charlie sank against the chair. "Lift up the brightest child."
"Exactly. Desperate times, hen."
Her highness left the therapy session hungrier than when she arrived (likely due to Gorgel's wanton snacking), but also more conflicted than ever. How could she pick a best guest and focus on them to the exclusion of all others? It didn't feel right for a place like this. Weren't they supposed to give everyone an equal chance at redemption? She couldn't even think who stood the best chance. Angel had been here the longest; Kain used to hold the highest attendance; and Vaggie was the one who most took her own teachings to...
Vaggie.
Changing direction, Charlie jogged upstairs, feeling a sudden need to find her girlfriend and hug her, as tight as she possibly could.
