Chapter 4

The Contract

Eliza was beyond ecstatic. Her entire life had revolved around her career as a psychiatrist; from the long road to get there to reaching a point of opening her own business location, which she hadn't yet achieved. She thought for sure that this punishing afterlife would be a struggle, as she had already prepared herself to find new employment in the living world right before she died. However, to think she would so quickly be presented with an opportunity to do her job, even here… She would not let this chance slip through her grasp by being idle.

Eliza took temporary residence in a room on the main floor. The room she picked was, simply put, the very first door she opened. She wasn't in the mood to be picky as she wanted to get to work on this contract right away. Just like in the lobby, the window was boarded up, and the desk next to it, while stable, was old and warped. The chair pushed into it creaked terribly, but was an improvement on the chair in the corner, which was broken badly enough that, even before the light was on, it was plain to see. The bed was a disaster, and admittedly she didn't plan on sleeping in it anyway so she really wasn't going to complain. Probably had bedbugs or worse, but she could bring that up later, when she actually intended to sleep. So she turned on the lamp on the desk, placed the large pile of blank paper and small collection of pens (just in case) on the desk, and got to work.

She spent the rest of the day writing and editing. This was not the first contract she's ever written, but being in Hell gave her a sense that this needed to be air-tight. Nothing could be forgotten, no detail left out.

Some time later, in the middle of writing, Niffty knocked on her door. "I have food! Oh, and water! Unless you want juice. We have some, so if you-" Eliza sighed as she heard the tiny cyclops ramble on outside her room. She put down her pen and stood up.

"Thank you, Niffty," she said as she opened her door. The little cyclops handed her the plate, and Eliza looked down in surprise. It looked and smelled fantastic. "Is this… Jambalaya?"

"Yup!" she answered shrilly. "Alastor made it earlier, but everyone got so excited that we forgot to offer you any before you disappeared! Charlie wanted to make sure you got something to eat before everyone went to bed." Eliza smiled down at the girl.

"Tell them all thank you for me." Niffty nodded and rushed back down the hall, picking up trash and debris along the way. This place was very run-down, so she had her work cut out for her.

She had spent years learning as a self-taught cook, but admittedly Jambalaya was a recipe she never really tried. Aside from not usually being a fan of shrimp, which is found in most Jambalaya recipes, she just never got to it. She was honestly excited to try it, shrimp included.

The spice was something else, but the flavor was excellent. She set aside the shrimp though, for even the wonderful spices couldn't power through the shrimp's innate sweetness, which she detested. She took a few bites, but the contract called her attention back to it, and so she wiped her hands and started writing once again, taking small bites as she worked. The sheer spicy power of the dish was excellent for keeping her awake.

She covered the basics: Confidentiality and the few exceptions allowed, rules on what was and was not allowed in sessions, rules of the probationary period that she knew would be required to make the moth demon happy, and an out in case there was cause for them to nullify the contract due to proof of malpractice. Then she thought about it for a moment and decided to clarify, in no uncertain terms, what qualifies as 'malpractice'. Since they were in Hell, she was sure that could become a huge grey area if left undefined.

The pentagram sun began to glow brightly in the sky, signifying the start of a new day, not that she could really see it through the thick wooden boards. She had read and re-read her handiwork several times, marking grammar errors and spelling mistakes, as well as making notes along the sides about things she missed, or crossing out things that turned out to be repetitive. Finally, she was ready to write the final draft when a knock on the door startled her.

"Good morning, my dear!" The tell-tale static of Alastor's voice rang out with the same pep as the day before. "I hope you're well-rested!"

She sighed, walking over and opening the door to greet him. "Good morning, Alastor." The bags under her eyes, while surprisingly minimal, were still a very present indicator of exactly how much rest she got.

"Stayed up all night working, I see. Are you done with it?"

"I'm working on the final draft now. It'll have to be hand-written, so it'll take longer. I apologize."

"Perhaps you should rest first. Read it over once more with rested eyes."

"I'll be fine, but thank you. The bed is not exactly in peak condition, anyways. However, I would like to thank you very much for the food. It was delicious, and helped me stay awake and focus on my work." Alastor's smile widened at the compliment. So he likes his ego stroked. Not surprising, though she could only imagine how badly brown-nosing would piss him off.

"Very well, though I do suggest you get some sleep regardless. This is very important, and contracts require us to be at our best! Don't want to make any mistakes." He twirled his cane with a Cheshire grin. "Well, good luck, my dear! Come join us when you're ready!"

"I will, thank you." She closed the door after he turned to leave. The bed in this room was disgusting, but maybe she should get some… rest...

When she turned around, she blinked in surprise. The room was in much better shape than she remembered, and she knew her exhaustion was not to blame. The bed was simple but tidy, the chair in the corner wasn't broken anymore, the window blinds were closed, but it was no longer boarded up… The only things that remained completely unchanged were the desk, which was still unkempt because of the scattered papers, and the chair. That was the one area that he left completely untouched. Despite this, she hurried over to make sure everything was still there; no missing papers. She gave a tired but relieved sigh when everything was present. Suddenly, a medium-sized device dropped onto the table next to her. She jumped slightly, but quickly smiled when she recognized the old-timey device. A typewriter!

She began working on the final draft immediately, energy renewed by the prospect of not having to write this by hand after all.


"Morning, dear." Charlie nuzzled sleepily into Vaggie's back, who gave a tired but happy little grunt. She turned around to face the princess, and the Magne heir held her head against her chest, petting her silver hair. The two were exhausted from such an exciting night, and that's not just referring to the appearance of Alastor or the new demoness dropping into their lives. No, the stressed little moth needed to relax, and Charlie was more than happy to help with that.

"Buenos días, mi amor," she sighed contentedly. The heiress gave her a sweet kiss on the forehead.

"Time to get up!" Charlie's energy was returning quickly, and she was about ready to bounce out of the bed. "Come on, I think we could use a shower." Vaggie opened her eye and looked up at her lover's face, a small, sleepy smile gracing her features.

"Yea, sounds good." Her voice cracked slightly, but she would start to wake up quickly in a nice, warm shower. And with the inevitable contract she'd be going through, she needed to relax a bit.

The sound of water emanated from the bathroom as Vaggie got up and stretched. She looked around at the humble room, though it was actually one of the hotel's biggest suites. The furniture definitely needed an overhaul, but such thoughts felt like the ramblings of a broken record, as the same could be said for every inch of this building.

Deciding that dwelling on the work ahead is fruitless, she walked into the already steamy bathroom, where Charlie was undressed and enjoying the heat of the water. Vaggie smiled at the view. Charlie's innocence and enjoyment of the little things really were her most endearing qualities, though far from the only ones she possessed. And Vaggie could never get over just how gorgeous she was. While she didn't really take after her mother, whose beauty and ravenous nature spawned the succubi and incubi, her likeness to her father more than made up for it. Vaggie no longer could trust a man, but she still acknowledged when they were good-looking, and if anything, she saw Charlie as visually superior, as if the best of Lucifer was taken and tweaked to absolute perfection.

"Are you just gonna stare, or will you join me?" Charlie's voice interrupted her thoughts, but she was more than happy to oblige, slipping off her clothes and joining her girlfriend in the steam. "This is so exciting," Charlie began, bouncing up and down slightly. "We're going to have an actual therapist for the guests!"

"If the contract is any good," she reminded the princess. "We need to make sure that there's no wiggle room for her to do anything that'll hurt the clients."

"I know, but-"

"I'm not even sure signing a contract is a good idea," Vaggie continued. "Charlie, we need to be careful. She may not have a reputation like Alastor, but a contract is still a deal."

"She's a professional, Vaggie," Charlie countered. "I've never been on Earth, but even down here professionals often require contracts."

"I-" Actually, Vaggie didn't have an argument for that. If the woman really was a psychiatrist, then contracts for her services were an absolute requirement. If she was from the states, which Vaggie guessed was the case, then she could see why she felt a contract was the best course of action. It takes care of liability issues and makes them able to state very clear rules. They would probably add a few as well. Eliza may have seemed confident in writing the contract herself, but Vaggie spent some time the night before making a list of additions she would insist upon.

"Anyway, enough talking," Charlie cooed, grabbing her lover by the waste and pulling her in for a warm embrace. "Let's just enjoy this moment alone. Who knows when a time will come when we can't be together like this. It will get busy around here at some point, right?"

Vagatha smiled into the princess' shoulder. "You're right, hon. Let's enjoy the moment."


"I hope everyone is well-rested!" The guests and co-managers all stared at the lobby, briefly ignoring the Radio Demon's greeting. On the East side was the fireplace, its fire roaring and the surround fixed up and polished. In front of it sat two chairs and a bistro table, and the north and south walls each had a jaw-themed couch and bistro table. The tooth vase with flowers was still present against the corner on the fireplace's right, while the left was clean and clutter-free. Directly to their left, on the East wall going to the North side where the guest's rooms were laid out, was a large grandfather clock, polished and working. It sat next to the door leading to the dining room, which still needed to be cleared out.

On the West side, the building no longer looked like Alastor had summoned and entire section of a casino into the lobby. The front desk, gambling table, chairs, small round tables, barstools and wall decor were all still present, but the walls were now that of the hotel, and not the wooden walls of whatever building it all came from. Speaking of which, Vaggie remembered that she'd need to corner Al on whether or not this was all stolen and if they needed to worry about someone demanding compensation for the equipment and furniture. Along the wall leading to the rooms was a door directly opposite the dining room. This led to a sort of stage-room, which Charlie had many ideas for what they could do with.

The voice of the Radio Demon carried throughout the room: "Please make your way to the dining room. It's not perfect, but there's space to sit, so let's enjoy the little things!"

Charlie and Vaggie shared looks with each other. Charlie looked excited, and Vaggie looked concerned. They made their way to a door on the East Wall.

Sure enough, part of the room was already cleared. There were four small bistro tables set up, each with three chairs. Charlie and Vaggie sat at a table, and Husk decided to join them in the hopes that Angel would not be able to sit with him. Unfortunately for him, the persistent spider-demon simply pulled up a chair, able to fit just fine because of his very lanky frame.

A minute later and food was brought in. Niffty zoomed this way and that, carrying plates and serving them all at a rapid pace despite her small frame. The smell of sausage wafted up from the biscuits and gravy, joined by sides of eggs, hashbrowns and grits. Like the Jambalaya, it smelled absolutely fantastic, and tasted even better.

"Is this all Alastor again?" Charlie asked, clearly impressed.

Niffty, who finally came in with a plate for herself, answered "Nope! I helped with the eggs, hashbrowns and grits. He did the biscuits and gravy."

"It's all delish," Angel praised. "Radio Daddy definitely has some hidden talents."

Alastor, who was standing in the door leading to the kitchen, had an eye-twitch upon hearing Angel's new nickname for him. "We all need hobbies," he answered, deciding to let it slide for now and walking in with his own plate. He stood behind his feline cohort. "Husker, my good friend! I would like to share this table with my lovely co-manager. Would you be a pal and keep Niffty company? In fact, I'm sure both you and Angel would make great conversation! After all, we have another guest coming, one that needs to talk business!"

"Eh, sure," was Angel's only reply. He winked at Husk and moved his chair to sit next to Niffty, followed begrudgingly by the grumpy cat, who sat as far away from the flirting spider as possible. Because Angel had taken his chair back with him, Alastor had a shadow pull up a fourth chair for when the psychiatrist arrived.


Happy with her work, she was grateful she hadn't had to formally hand-write the final draft. While she could draw and paint rather well, cursive writing was a weakness that no amount of work seemed to help her hands overcome. It was perfectly legible, but she would have had to use plain print instead of cursive, which irked her. Public schools no longer taught cursive in the living world, and as such she started practicing rather late in life. She could sign her name and use it when necessary, but it took her ages to do so. Now that she has an eternity in Hell, however, perhaps she'd set aside the time to practice.

She organized the three-page contract and carried it to the lobby. She saw no one around, but heard talking coming from a room on the East side. She opened the door and found herself in a dining room. The three heads behind the hotel looked up at her, and Charlie excitedly invited her to take a seat. Eliza smiled and did so, resulting in Niffty bolting up from her seat and dashing into the kitchen, returning moments later with another plate of food.

"Here you go!" she said in a sing-song tone, returning to her own meal and the conversation she was having with Angel. Eliza hadn't even had a chance to say thank you before Charlie jumped into business.

As Charlie talked about plans for the hotel, Vaggie motioned for Eliza to hand her the contract. She did so, and Vaggie read while Charlie gushed about her passion project to save her people from extermination, occasionally interrupted by interjections from Alastor, who couldn't resist bouncing off the princess' enthusiastic commentary.

Vaggie read very carefully, and couldn't believe what she was reading. It was the best damn contract she could have hoped for. Everything she had thought to force into it was mentioned, right down to the first few sessions being probationary, with a sit-in monitoring the proceedings with permission from the client. There were some minor concerns, but nothing the woman probably wouldn't clear up. She cleared her throat, putting a hand on Charlie's shoulder to get her attention. The blonde calmed herself. "What's up, Vaggie?"

"I just have a few questions." Eliza nodded, and Vaggie continued. "It says that during the first few sessions, someone can sit in and make sure of what you're doing, correct?"

"Yes," she answered. "I was thinking of having a walled-off area where the person could sit and listen, so that the client would not have a constant reminder of their presence. If you have a better idea, I'd be happy to hear it."

"Won't it interfere with what you're doing, though? They won't be as inclined to talk if they know someone is listening."

"It's a risk we'll have to take. I will not lie to a client about no one else hearing what they say. Such a breach in confidentiality is inexcusable."

Vaggie blinked her eye a couple times, not sure if she should be offended or not. "But it says that the person who sits in on a conversation is chosen by you. Who would you choose to sit in?" She glanced nervously at Alastor, whose eyes became half-lidded as he awaited her answer.

"You, actually." The lack of hesitation caused Vaggie to raise her eyebrow. "Charlie is heavily invested in pushing them towards a positive, while Alastor is too anxious for them to fall to a negative. You're in the middle; invested in their success, but skeptical, so you'd be a perfect candidate to judge my effectiveness and professionalism."

"Alright then." Vaggie looked back down, searching for the next part she had questions about. "It also says that everyone who signs on here can access patient record files if the client shows signs of danger to fellow guests or hotel employees. Can we amend this to include danger to people outside the hotel?"

Eliza thought for a moment. "Why?" Vaggie stared for a moment, and Charlie watched as her girlfriend's temper started to flare up again.

"Because of the pursuit of the hotel," Charlie interjected, turning Eliza's attention away from the fuming moth. "We're an institution looking to help people get over their past problems and pursue a better future. It wouldn't be right to put client confidentiality over the well-being of others, right?" Eliza seemed unmoved, if not more confused than before.

"Think of this place as an asylum," Alastor explained. "If an inmate is going to break out and wreak havoc on the surrounding area, we have a professional duty to let our superiors know the risks! Wouldn't you agree?"

"Ah, I see!" Eliza turned back to Vaggie. "Very well, make a note and I'll-"

Zap!

A red bolt of electricity travelled from Alastor's index finger to the contract, effectively amending it. Vaggie read it again and nodded, satisfied. However, Eliza's eyes grew dark.

"Give me the contract, please." Though phrased politely, the tone was commanding. Alastor looked at the normally calm psychiatrist, and was slightly taken aback by her eyes. Formerly white with black slitted pupils, they had completely inverted in color, and her pale skin was darkening into a shadowy grey-scale. The normally bright-red rose over her heart was a shade darker, blood dripping from its petals, and shadowy tendrils were starting to take form behind her shoulder-blades.

"Whatever for, my dear?" he inquired, intrigued by the sudden change in the woman.

"I don't like people changing my contracts." She sent a side-long glance in his direction. He held her gaze defiantly, but she didn't falter at all. "I wish to read it. All of it." Her voice started to carry a slight, hollow echo.

"Don't trust me, sweetheart?"

"No one edits my contracts without my consent."

Charlie, sensing danger in their immediate future, grabbed the contract out of Vaggie's hands and held it out to the angry demoness across from her. "Here you go! Take your time!" Eliza took it gently, never breaking eye-contact with Alastor until looking down to carefully inspect the change, followed by two thorough read-throughs.

Her eyes switched back and her skin lightened once more, but she didn't look any less irritated by the time she was done. "Everything else is the same. Thank you." She handed it back to Vaggie, who took it carefully before glaring at Alastor.

"I just thought it would save some time!" he said. The therapist's eyes flicked back to the Radio Demon, who held up his hands in half-assed apology. "It won't happen again; you have my word." Satisfied, Eliza's expression softened once more. At the other table, Angel let out the breath he didn't know he was holding.

"Whew," he said quietly. "That was almost bad."

"It got really cold in here," Niffty stated, seemingly oblivious to the fight that almost transpired. "Should we open a window to let some warm air in?"

"It wouldn't have helped," Husk answered flatly. The three went back to their original conversation. Well, Angel and Niffty's conversation. Husk was just quietly listening to the other table, now more so than before.

"Anyway," Vaggie continued, trying to get back on track. "Now that the edit has been made…" she glared once more at Alastor before continuing. "I have a few more questions…" Vaggie clarified the last few concerns she had and, luckily, no further editing needed to be made. She also discovered that the contract protected the appointment room when in use from outside interference, as well as prohibiting anyone not specifically part of the contract from accessing her notes and other patient information. Eliza clarified that this was why Alastor was not permitted to sign, much to his annoyance.

Other details of the contract included rules of conduct. She was not permitted to kill or maim a client for any reason, though self-defense was an exception where she would be allowed to incapacitate a client before immediately ending the appointment, in which case Vaggie or Charlie would follow through with whatever punishment they deemed necessary. Likewise, she held the authority to end an appointment or dismiss a client from her care for reasons of danger to herself or other forms of impropriety, which were listed in surprising and somewhat disconcerting detail.

Finally, the final clause involved a list of ways in which the contract could be successfully nullified. Under the signatures required to make the contract binding were three blank spaces. Should all three signers add their signatures to the extra lines, the contract would destroy itself. Should sufficient evidence be compiled against her of abuse of her position, then one of the lines would disappear, requiring only that Vaggie and Charlie be in agreement and sign. Eliza decided to anticipate that contracts in Hell would be different than on Earth, as this clause would otherwise never have worked upstairs. "Sufficient Evidence" was defined quite specifically, so as to ensure minimal confusion.

"Well, I'm impressed, my dear," Alastor praised. "I didn't know someone so new to Hell would be able to make such an iron-clad contract. Well done! Still, not being able to sign it is… upsetting."

"You call yourself a co-manager, but I see you more as a business partner," she said simply. "Technically, Vaggie and Charlie are the heads of the business. You are outside assistance. Business partners do not gain special access to client information. That would be like me offering confidential information to anyone who sponsors this project." Alastor stared at her for a moment as if in shock before breaking out in laughter. It was such an unexpectedly long and hard laugh that everyone stared at him.

"Wait," he choked out, trying to regain his composure, "that's why I'm not allowed to sign off on this deal?!" He laughed again, this time the only sound emanating from him was shifting radio static. "I thought perhaps you worried I'd abuse client information, but it turns out it's just because you view my position as being outside the hotel!" This elicited another sharp laugh from the Radio Demon, followed by his stock laugh track.

Eliza looked very confused and a little concerned. "Of course. Why would it be otherwise?"

Vaggie's eye twitched. Despite the therapist's professionalism, the moth knew she was going to have problems with this woman. Lots and lots of problems.