Chapter 18
Mic Drop
Things finally started to pick up around the hotel. Two more guests signed up for the redemption program, and Charlie was beyond thrilled. That made four guests total. There was still a long way to go, but it was steady progress, and more than anyone expected in the beginning. The first was a small rat-like boy with tan fur and brown eyes, and the other man had a large, round head and faded pink skin. They were Curio and Harve, respectively. Charlie recognized Curio from the Reception, and was thrilled to see that he brought in a friend to join.
They both came in together on a Thursday, the day before the hotel's second movie night. This time, the movie was "Groundhog Day," a movie starring Bill Murray where his character is stuck repeating the same day until he finally redeems himself. Though Fizz was left out of the programs for obvious reasons, with the extra two redemption candidates as well as the staff, things actually got rather interesting.
Vaggie and Charlie both ran the session, but Vaggie was the primary speaker. "Alright, thoughts on what the overriding theme of the movie is?" She looked over at Charlie before adding "Besides redemption."
Curio raised his hand and answered, "He had lots of chances to make himself a better person, but it took him months of repeats to finally do it."
"Exactly!" Charlie exclaimed. "At first, he didn't really try to fix anything, and instead tried to take the easy way out. When he couldn't do that, he had to man up and really give it his all! It's very similar to Hell: the only easy way out is to accept your fate day in and day out, but nothing will really change unless you change it yourself!"
"Yea, but things are different down here, sweetie," Harve wheezed. "Phil in the movie relived the same day, so no one could see and take advantage of all the mistakes he made. Down here, if you try to get better, everyone takes advantage of it and you're back to square one. We don't get infinite time and chances to get it right."
Charlie's eye twitched slightly at his pessimism, but she smiled in spite of it. "That's why we have the hotel. People won't try to take advantage of you here! You'll have the freedom to better yourselves at your own pace."
Curio looked around briefly, checking to make sure the coast was clear before arguing, "You say that, but you keep the Radio Demon around. He's not even officially part of the hotel, so what else does he want but to take advantage of us? Isn't that what he does?"
Vaggie cleared her throat. "Look, we can all agree that his presence is… weird. I don't like the guy, but he hasn't done anything to get in the way of anyone. If he does, we'll take care of it, just come to us if he tries anything."
Harve let out a wheezing laugh. "As if anyone would rat out the Radio Demon. No offense, but I'm more scared of him than any of you."
Eliza thought to offer her assistance in the matter, but she didn't need any of them bringing false testimonies of Alastor's 'misdeeds' with hopes of him getting kicked out, so she kept quiet instead. She would merely have to keep an eye on them outside of their appointments.
Vaggie sighed and rubbed her temples. "Look, let's get back on track, OK?" They continued talking about the movie, and the Radio Demon was not brought up again for the day, nor was he seen until Saturday morning.
Alastor seemed to take serious pleasure in tormenting Curio, but it didn't help that the rat demon kept sticking his nose into things. Even Harve, who came in with the little guy, wheezed a laugh whenever Alastor picked him up by the tail and gnashed his teeth at him. It was one of the few things both Fizz and Alastor seemed to share in common: enjoyment over tormenting the guests. At least Fizz kept his hands to himself, though his list of creative insults seemed endless.
Until now, Alastor only had Angel, Lakavi and the staff. But now with the addition of only two more individuals, he seemed to go full swing into getting his kicks. The exception was Angel, whom he still mostly avoided, but he treated the spider more kindly than before. Angel was also the only guest who could sass Alastor back without repercussion; something he readily made use of.
Over the course of the next two months, they received 3 more hotel clients: a lazy cat-like demon named Paressu, a feisty mongoose demon named Matiu, and a tall shadowy demoness with long tentacles for arms and legs named Erpa. The hotel owner and manager had their hands full keeping everyone in line.
Alastor was polite to Erpa at first, treating her like a proper lady, until she was caught trying to pick Niffty's pocket. Some people in the hotel were surprised to learn that her little dress actually possessed pockets, but Erpa seemed to pick up on their existence very quickly. But Niffty, clean freak that she is, became very aware of the attempted theft and reacted immediately, getting Alastor's attention. Had she picked anyone else to steal from, he may have merely criticized her technique. However…
"I recommend exercising better judgement when choosing your target." Charlie had to step in and stop a possible slaughter, while also giving out a punishment to Erpa that would keep the Radio Demon pacified for the time being.
As for Eliza, she was keeping herself happily busy with work during the day. Lakavi's first progress evaluation went well, and she no longer tried to make sexual advances during her sessions, which Eliza was so very grateful for.
Angel was making steady progress emotionally. He still had much to overcome, but his willpower grew steadily. He no longer tried to sneak drugs into the hotel, at any rate. She once again asked him if he would reconsider telling Charlie about being forced to take drugs at work, but he remained adamant.
Eliza now met with Alastor on a regular schedule of three nights a week; Monday, Wednesday and Friday, where the two would sit and have her practice writing. Alastor could be somewhat of a taskmaster, even going so far as to whip out a ruler and rap her knuckles with it whenever she took too long. The first time he did that, a wing sprouted and nearly ripped his head off, but he merely chuckled and dodged the half-assed assault and gave her a playfully disappointed look. He had way too much fun playing teacher, especially whenever he could elicit some form of emotional response from her.
These meetings would often be followed by conversation, where Alastor seemed more than happy to discuss any topic she could think of. If she wanted, he would tell stories of his conquests in the past; gorey tales of his victims that she seemed strangely entranced by. He absolutely adored having such an interested audience, and the fact that she was the only listener didn't dampen his spirit in the slightest. Often he would ask about her as well, though that is where the two began to have problems. While Alastor was more than thrilled to share many (often embellished) tales, Eliza was far less generous with details. While willing to talk about her later life, childhood remained a topic on the fringe of being off-limits, often causing him to shift the topic in the hopes that she wouldn't retreat to her room too early.
Before she would arrive, Alastor would enter the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves in preparation to cook a meal for the two of them. One should never study on an empty stomach, after all. However, it seemed as though he was the later arrival that Friday night, as when he entered the kitchen, Eliza was already inside. Entering silently when he realized she was there, he watched her work. She had her long brown hair kept up in a messy ponytail, a hairpin holding all the loose strands off to the side as she worked in front of the stove, toasting an english muffin while a second pan sat next to her on medium heat. He smelled bacon, and the savory odor made his stomach growl.
"Can I be of assistance?" he offered. She barely acknowledged him by lightly shaking her head, and he sat down in the dining room to wait. He knew she would help Niffty in the kitchen on occasion, but he had never actually had something prepared by her alone, and felt rather excited. A true foodie never turns down a new experience!
A few minutes later she came out with a couple plates, and set one down on the table before him. It looked quite promising: an english muffin cut in half, and on it were mushrooms, chopped-up bacon and a poached egg. It smelled of bitter herbs, which made his mouth water. He noted that her dish, while holding the same ingredients, was colored differently from his own. "May I ask what you seasoned it with?"
"I cooked your mushrooms and bacon in ginger, rosemary, savory and turmeric," she informed him. "Salt and pepper was added on top at the end."
He put his fork through the poached egg, and the yolk drizzled over the whole dish. He was surprised how badly his mouth was watering, and took a bit. He gave an approving groan. Once his mouth was empty, his smile widened. "Delicious, my dear!"
She nodded her thanks, having a mouthful of her own.
Alastor looked down at the table once more and realized something. "You didn't bring any pens or papers tonight. Did you wish to skip the writing portion for the evening?"
She nodded. "I practiced a bit earlier, and I just don't want to look at it anymore."
He tsked, but decided to let it slide, letting her delicious cooking win him over. "I suppose we can take a break tonight, but don't expect me to be so lenient in the future." The sound of a turning dial played when he decided to shift the topic to something more enjoyable. "Where did you learn to cook? Personally, much of what I learned came from my mother."
Knowing full well that playing the family card was a risky bet, he waited patiently for her to finish a mouthful of food. Much to his disappointment, she dodged his attempted prodding. "I didn't learn from my family. I taught myself the moment I moved out of the house. With a little help from Masterclass."
"Masterclass?"
"It's an internet thing," she explained. "Celebrities posting instructional classes online, and you pay for access. I really enjoyed it during my time off. There were several chefs on there, teaching recipes or general techniques."
He decided to ignore the technological part, as the internet was something he refused to get involved in, but honed in on another fact instead: "I should not be surprised to hear that you like to spend your free-time learning. We meet three times a week with that in mind. But still, I wonder what else you would do during your time off?"
She was silent for a moment, and Alastor wondered if he would need to change the subject. Then, she muttered, "I didn't really do much else, if I'm honest."
The Radio Demon cocked an eyebrow. "Truly? No going out to wander, like you do here?"
She shrugged. "In the living world, I didn't feel as interested in going out and seeing new things. I would go to parks occasionally, just to get outside, but for the most part… I honestly hated how it looked up there."
"You prefer the look of Hell to the living world?" he asked. "Don't get me wrong, I agree Hell has some lovely areas, but I would never consider it as beautiful as what I saw before."
Now she went quiet for too long. As she sat there, wondering how to say what she was thinking, she heard the sound of a dial being turned; but before Alastor changed the subject, she asked "Why do you do that?"
Alastor cocked his head to the side. "Do what, my dear?"
"Why do you make that sound every time you change the subject?"
He chuckled, sheepishly. "You respond so very well to audio cues."
She raised an eyebrow. "You're using your radio sounds to manipulate me?"
"It seems to calm you. It keeps you here, even when I bring up something that would otherwise cause you to retreat. I like speaking with you, my dear; is it wrong to find a way to keep you from running away from me?"
She blinked at him in surprise. "That's… incredibly thoughtful of you."
His eyes narrowed playfully. "Don't sound too surprised, my dear," he teased. "I might take offense! Besides, I've told you before: I take very good care of the things I like. That includes people, you know."
Eliza felt incredibly flattered, and that feeling made a thought occur to her. "Is this why people often get confused with you? Your friendliness can be taken as somewhat… for lack of a better word, flirty."
He grinned broadly. "Oh? Is that so?"
Much to his surprise and amusement, she continued on the subject in a strangely matter-of-fact manner. "Well, you are a handsome man, very well-mannered, downright coy when dealing with others, and you have no trouble trying to learn about what makes people tick. Really, it's hard to think you don't enjoy when women fall for you."
His smile shifted to something slightly less readable. "Are you falling for me, my dear?"
Eliza laughed. It was a somewhat harsh laugh, and for a moment he felt something unpleasant coil inside him, wondering if he was being mocked. "Oh sweet mercy, you'd be so disappointed if I said 'yes', wouldn't you?" She continued to laugh loudly, unable to stop herself.
Alastor thought for a moment, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I would only be disappointed if you started acting like Mimzy." He then added with a slightly more desperate tone, "Please don't act like Mimzy. There's only so much obsession I can deal with."
Eliza calmed herself to scattered chuckles. "I'll do my best," she promised. "I wonder though; are you completely opposed to it? Not me, specifically, but the idea of romance in general."
He shrugged. "If I feel it, I feel it. But I have never felt it, nor the need to pursue it, and so the obsession to achieve it is simply beyond my comprehension."
"Fair enough," she conceded with a nod. "Fair enough." Then she added playfully, "You may be the first man I've ever met to not really suffer sexual urges."
Now it was Alastor's turn to become quiet. Eliza took a long, hard look at the man for a moment. "I'm sorry, did I go too far?"
"I am not opposed to speaking on the subject with you," he stated, "but it is a bit uncomfortable. I was raised to view it as a rather inappropriate topic of discussion. That, and sex has never held a particular interest for me."
Eliza started to switch to professional mode, and her face became more neutral. She normally avoided doing this outside work hours, but for some reason she couldn't seem to resist right now. "Because you had other interests?"
Alastor noted the change, and part of him wanted her to stop. He didn't want to speak with her as a therapist. But at the same time, the shift in dynamic felt intriguing. "Yes." He leaned back in the chair. "I had greater goals in mind. Having a lover seemed more problematic than anything."
"What interest kept you away from taking a partner?" she asked, folding her hands on her lap.
He smiled in reminiscence, the corners of his mouth curling inward slightly. "Hunting."
"Given your reputation, I assume you don't mean hunting animals."
"Oh, them too," he told her. "Cannibalism wasn't my only diet, you know. I simply adore venison." She noticed that, at that last statement, his radio static disappeared. "But yes, my other hunting is what I'm speaking of."
"Serial killers tend to hunt a specific type of person. What are your criteria for a preferred victim?"
His amusement grew as she spoke so calmly about his less-than-acceptable practices. "You know, I think I'd like you to guess," he challenged. "You were so open about your observations the day we met. Tell me: who do you think I prefer to kill?"
She thought carefully for a moment. "Typically, it involves someone who wronged you early on in life, or otherwise brought upon a traumatic experience. It doesn't usually manifest in how you treat other people, or else serial killers would be a lot easier to find. Still, if you think I could guess based on observations, then there must be something." Her face tilted down slightly, eyes hazing over as she searched her memories of their interactions and other observations for hints.
"I'm going to make a cup of coffee," he announced, standing up. "Would you like some tea?"
He stared at her for a moment, but received no response at all. Whatever process her mind was going through, she was lost in it, searching for a clue. He had been right: she's a very curious woman. At least she had the sense and dignity to be polite in her desire for discovery. He has, on many occasions, considered butchering Curio for his tendency to snoop, so he could appreciate some respectful curiosity right about now.
When he came back, however, he was greeted by a slightly unnerving sight. Her eyes were solid black, and her rose was closed and surrounded by thorny vines. After a moment's hesitation, he strolled up and placed a cup of tea in front of her. "For you, my dear."
At first, he thought she wouldn't snap out of it, but then he heard her take a sniff. She blinked, and her eyes reverted instantly to normal, the rose quickly unravelling back to its usual appearance. "Oh, thank you," she said, as if nothing strange had happened. Her face was too tranquil, leading Alastor to become suspicious.
"What were you thinking about?" he asked, sitting next to her. He decided to keep her visual changes to himself this time, at least for now. Her body, unlike her face and voice, seemed far more open to letting others know when something's going on, and he wasn't inclined to lose this advantageous detail just yet.
She took a sip of her tea. "I think I may have a clue, but I got lost on a tangent thought. I apologize for zoning out like that."
"No worries," he assured her. "But humor me: what was that tangent thought that consumed you so?"
"I'd rather talk about the clue," she asserted.
"Very well, but don't think I'll let it be brushed away so easily afterwards." His eyes crinkled mischievously.
"Your treatment of women," she began. He stiffened slightly; she hit the clue on the nose, but he wondered what way she would go with it. "At first, I wondered if it was an indicator of preference, but then I remembered your tolerance of Mimzy. Any man who lacks patience with someone like Curio wouldn't choose to withstand her abrasive flirting if women were his preferred targets. The only logical conclusion is that women are not the preference. Unless Mimzy is that masochistic, but I doubt it. Honestly, she's far more likely to tie you down than let you tear her apart."
The image of being tied down made him snarl quietly. No, that was certainly not on his list of interests.
"How do you do that?" The question caught him off guard and he stared dumbly at the therapist for a moment.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Snarl with a smile," she specified, pointing at his face. "You're extremely expressive for someone who insists on wearing a smile at all times. It's rather impressive."
"Funny to hear that from a woman who hides her expression most of the time," he chuckled. When she gave him an unimpressed stare, he continued, "You'd be surprised at the range of emotions the face is truly capable of. That's truly all there is to it."
She decided to accept that answer, and returned to her previous thought. "Anyways, that leaves men as the target, but it's too broad. Serial killers are typically more specific. I… have yet to pin-point exactly what you look for in a victim. Although, I have noticed something else."
He took a long drink of his coffee while she spoke. "And what would that be, my dear?"
"You don't really chase people down. If they run away, you just let them go. Why?"
He laughed lightheartedly. "It's rather rude to chase someone, wouldn't you say?"
"So propriety matters," she noted. "Respectful of women, adheres to a sense of propriety…" She had a thought. "What are your thoughts on children?"
"How young?" he asked.
"Does that matter?"
"Of course! If a child can think for itself, why should I be concerned? It can learn to take care of itself at that point."
Eliza cocked an eyebrow. "It? So no closeness with kids, then."
"As a concept? Not at all! Not to say that I couldn't, but I've never met one that needed my attention."
"Ah, I see."
"Now, if a child tries to do something stupid," he continued, "I won't stop them. If they don't learn from hurting themselves, then perhaps the world is better off without them. As we are in Hell, one can not question that the theory of Evolution is false, but I do believe the theory of natural selection has its roots firmly planted in logical reasoning."
Eliza laughed loudly. "Agreed! Oh, you would hate modern times. Common sense is rarer than ever. Some of the warning labels…" She shook her head. "The fact that coffee needs a 'Warning: Hot' label on it is quite telling."
"Believe it or not, not much has actually changed," he argued playfully. "It just means that the idiots of the world are more likely to survive. A shame, really."
As she laughed, she suddenly felt the need to drop the previous subject, at least for now. "Could we continue this discussion next time? I need a break."
"Certainly," he agreed. "Do give it some thought while you're away, would you?"
"Of course," she promised. She reached for his plate, but he held up a hand.
"I'll take care of these. Why don't you go to bed? You look exhausted."
"This is far from the worst I've ever been," she smirked. "Still, that sounds good. Good night, Alastor."
Before she made it to the door leading to the lobby, he called out "Oh, you sly woman, letting me almost forget the tangent you were so lost in thought about. What was it?"
For a moment, she forgot what he was talking about. Then it dawned on her, and she got quiet.
"When I was trying to figure out if you attacked women, I was… picturing you tearing apart someone in particular."
"Anyone I know?" he teased.
"No," she denied. "But if she hasn't changed from the last time I saw her, you might meet her in the future." Memories of her mother surfaced without her permission, causing her to clench her jaw. She remembered the hatred, the guilt, the abuse...
Abuse.
Suddenly, her head shot up and she met his gaze, her eyes practically glowing with realization.
"Has it dawned on you?" he probed.
"...Possibly." And with that, she walked away, leaving him feeling very confused. Was she unwilling to say it? He couldn't help but feel that, perhaps, the idea that crossed her mind was wrong. If she had guessed correctly, he couldn't imagine she would be unhappy with the answer.
Only time would tell. Next time they met, he would find out.
The next day, Charlie gathered everyone together for an announcement. "As some of you know, a couple months ago we started really talking about different ideas for things to do around here."
Husk covered his face with one of his paws. "Oh no… I knew this was coming eventually."
Fizz chuckled. "Oh, this is going to be good, isn't it?"
Charlie continued, "And there was one we were postponing until we got more guests. Well, we now have six guests total as well as the staff, so I'm going to start our Open Mic Saturdays!"
Fizz made excited noises. "Ooo, very good!"
"Every Saturday night, we'll gather in the stage-room and the mic will be open to anyone who wants to perform! Songs, dancing, comedy, or even just talking something out! Whatever you want, so long as it follows a couple specific rules."
"Don't kill the buzz," Fizz called out, getting a couple chuckles from the other guests.
She leveled him an annoyed look before explaining. "One: Excessive sexual content is not allowed. The occasion sex joke or mildly raunchy music is allowed, as is moderate pole dancing."
"YES!" Angel cheered, accompanied by a couple guests who turned out to be fans of his.
"Two: Nothing can result in bodily harm. If someone gets physically hurt during the show, it ends, and punishments will be dispensed." Matiu grumbled when he heard that rule. "Obey these two rules, and everything will be just fine!"
And with that, everyone gathered together in the evening for the first official Open Mic night. Seeing as no one really got early enough notice, not much happened on the first night. After an ear-bleedingly bad karaoke performance from Erpa (who believed they just hated her because they were uncultured pricks) and some bad jokes by Matiu, Fizz decided to close out the night, and he took his dear sweet time.
He started off with a little sing-a-long, one that caught on surprisingly quick, and then started into some stand-up comedy.
"I'm the Robotic Fizzarolli," he introduced himself with a bow. "Normally my features would include some slap and tickle, but I'm under a strict 'no sex' order, so those of you who persistently pester me for a romp, give up hope now." A couple boos rose out of the audience. "You want that to change? Talk to your therapist. She calls the shots. Don't get too cranky with her though; lady's got wings that'll squash you to paste. Look like giant hands, too. Don't get hopeful though; the only one surviving that fisting is Angel Dust."
Angel winked up at him. "You're just jealous 'cause you're the only one who can't tap it."
Fizz laughed. "You kidding me? You're so stretched out I'm amazed Niffty isn't following you around cleaning up all the love-juice leaking out!"
The robot looked over at Niffty when he mentioned her, and saw that she was flirting rather aggressively with Paressu, who was trying to inch away from the ever encroaching cyclops.
"Hey girl," he called from the stage, "quit being so desperate to get it on! Your tiny box can't handle any package of reasonable size, trust me!" He laughed maniacally as she started yelling at him. He continued on, completely ignoring her complaints. "And she's such a clean freak, too! Bet her cooch is spotless, gentlemen. And with how desperate she acts, it's gonna stay that way!" The guests, including Angel, were losing their minds, and Eliza found it nearly impossible to stifle her laughter. Encouraged by the energy, Fizz added one more just for kicks. "Keep your distance, boys. Get too close, and the only liquid covering your prick will be the cleaning chemicals!"
Although this wasn't Alastor's preferred style of humor, the energy from the audience was contagious. Eliza, who was trying to regain her composure next to him, decided to add to the scene. "Oh, don't complain, Fizzarolli. Those chemicals are the only way our guests could ever survive your rusty parts."
The 'Ooo's' from the crowd sounded off, Alastor finally found something worth laughing at, and Fizz made a questionable noise. "Oh, boss! I'd put up with the frostbite you'd give me if you carried me to your bed right now."
"Then you'd be a snowbot," Alastor stated.
A couple chuckles were heard, and Fizz shook his head. "You know, Red, you didn't need to build such a bad reputation. If you want people to avoid you, your jokes are enough to do the trick!"
Alastor's grin widened. "So what, I should rely on crass humor and perversion like some whorish rube? Inconceivable!"
An alarm sounded from Fizz's matrix, and he smiled maliciously. "Ooo, big word there, Red! But even with all your fancy words, you'll still only be remembered for the carnage you caused decades ago! Tell me, did you rename the hotel 'Hazbin' so that you could feel like you belong here?"
"I help keep this business afloat," he said, cheekily. "What do you do again, hm? Wait tables? Clean up the mess? Really, what good are you when Niffty was capable of all those things and more before you ever arrived?"
Fizz's smile only widened as he continued his assault. "Are you a Bible-reading man, Red? If not, look up the story of Lot's wife sometime. You two have a lot in common, because behind that flashy smile, you're nothing more than one big pillar of salt!"
"And you are nothing more than a poor attempt at stealing the talent of a far greater individual than you could ever hope to be."
"Alright, boys, that's enough," Charlie interrupted. "Calm it down."
"Oh, you're here too?" Fizz commented, moving on to tormenting the hotel-owner. "I forgot about you, to be honest. You know, I liked your song, girlie; the one from the news. An old model of yours truly used part of it in his act a few times. Never got a single copyright claim against it, though I guess that would require someone else to remember you exist."
Charlie looked like the insult had struck home, which only fueled the clown's will to twist the knife.
"Even after that embarrassment on TV, Mumsy and Daddums didn't even bother to publicly disown you! I've been here two months and haven't seen a trace of them. Guess they want to forget you, too!" When Vaggie started to say something, Fizz turned to address her directly. "Hey, moth girl, is she this forgettable in bed, too?"
She whipped out her spear. "Come over here and I'll make sure you become a distant memory, asshat!"
"Oh, a white knight!" Fizz taunted, waving his arms around. "You know girl, the only reason you pull that spear out whenever trouble shows up is because, without it, no one in their right mind would be afraid of you!" He leaned forward to leer down at her. "You're nothing more than a little goth doll. Bet the reason you prefer women is because bedding a man would tear you in half!"
The murderous glare from Vaggie did nothing but amuse the robot jester. When he turned to look around the room for his next victim, his eyes landed on Husk, who flipped him off. "Go fuck yourself," he warned.
"Oh, go back to your bottle, kitty," Fizz countered dismissively. "It misses you, and it's the only thing that ever will."
"Fine by me," Husk agreed, going for a chug. Fizz quickly grew bored and moved on from the veteran.
"Are you quite done up there?" Alastor inquired.
"Why, you gonna remove me?" Fizz challenged. Now the crowd, which had been laughing just moments ago, was starting to get a little nervous. Alastor's eyes switched to dials, and the robot sneered. "Before you come up here to tussle, a little food for thought: I've been up here insulting everyone in the hotel, and I've gotten more love in one night than you have in five months. Face it Red…" He leaned forward, smiling maliciously. "...Even in Hell you can't fit in!" He dropped the mic.
"Time's up, counterfeit clown." Alastor transformed right then and there, and most of the guests scattered. Charlie focused on getting everyone out, and Vaggie guarded her with her spear. However, before the two actually started their assault, they became distracted by an unexpected noise.
"Oh!" The sudden exclamation caused them both to turn and stare at Eliza, who looked like she just had an epiphany. She had never seen Alastor's full demon form before, but now that he was in front of her, an answer to a question she had long been pondering came to her. "You're not a deer at all! You're a wendigo!" She got closer to his face, studying it. When Fizz thought to take advantage of his distraction, she snapped her fingers. "Fizz, sit and wait there." He obeyed with a yelp, landing hard on the wooden stage. "I'll deal with you later." She turned back to Alastor, who stared down at her with his large, empty eye sockets.
She had to admit that he was an impressive sight like this. His body was stretched unnaturally thin, with terrible claws and hooved feet. He towered over her, blood dripping from his eye-sockets and still present sharp-toothed smile. Finally, there were his antlers, now extended and twisting into unnaturally sharp points.
He barely believed the look in her eyes. She was fascinated. He couldn't even imagine what could possibly be going through her head for her to look at him with anything other than trepidation and fear. Even other women he saved from being mercilessly butchered looked at him like a monster.
The dead-pan statement she made next confused everyone in the room. "That is the most gorgeously terrifying thing I've ever seen."
What followed was a moment of silence before Alastor's deep, demonic laughter filled the entire space. His breathing sounded like a sickening wheeze, like the wind whistling through the dead branches of a foul swamp. "My dear, you are a gem."
