Chapter 23
Seeing Friends
"So you attacked her because you were… what, possessed?" Vaggie grilled him, disbelievingly.
"By a truly powerful aromatic Mickey Finn, yes," he confirmed.
"A what now?" Charlie asked, folding her arms.
Alastor tilted his head. Charlie was surely alive during his time-period; was she truly unfamiliar with old slang? "I'm comparing it to a drugged drink, my dear. A smell that affects the senses and makes the target unable to think clearly; much like a spiked beverage one gives to their target. I suppose a more apt term would be to call it a pheromone, however."
"You want us to believe she wanted you to eat her?" Vaggie looked downright murderous, and Charlie kept her in check but also seemed to share in some of her disbelief. She wanted to believe his story, but it all seemed so very strange.
"I doubt that was her intention," he answered nonchalantly. "As I said, we were in the midst of a heated discussion; perhaps it was meant to make me back down, or something to that effect. Needless to say, if that was the intention, it backfired in a glorious fashion."
"Alastor," Charlie began, slowly, "this all sounds rather questionable. When we walked in, she didn't look like someone who planned something that backfired. She looked downright shocked."
"Perhaps you haven't noticed, Your Highness, but our dear therapist is in possession of powers that simply refuse to obey her commands, or otherwise act of their own accord. Temperature changes when her mood shifts, black wings that come in times of need but not to call, scales shifting colors in a fashion comparable to a chameleon… Frankly, a pheromone is hardly the strangest of her collections of powers. Unlike me, she does not have control over much of what happens around her, and often these passive abilities, while obvious to others, go largely unnoticed by the woman in question. So while I do stand behind the fact that my abhorrent actions were not entirely my own, I also truly believe it was an unintentional mistake on her part."
"Que carajo…" Vaggie groaned, rubbing her forehead as a headache threatened to take root. "This is absolutely ridiculous!"
"For once, dear Vagatha, we are in complete agreement," Alastor affirmed with a nod. "To have such power and no control is positively ludicrous! Had it not resulted in such unsavory actions on my part, I would find it far more amusing. As it is, this is where we find ourselves."
Charlie rubbed her arm before asking, "And this is the first time it's happened?"
Alastor's expression shifted from mildly amused to downright livid in seconds. "If you're asking whether or not I have attempted to eat her in the past: No, I have not." Static emanated from him as it overtook his voice, and symbols flashed around his head for a few seconds.
"No… I mean the smell," she specified. "Is this the first time you've… you know…"
Alastor tilted his head curiously at her strangely awkward tone. "I don't follow."
"Well, I mean, smelling her means you usually have to get kinda, you know… close…"
Realization dawned on him, and static cracked between his ears as his eyes switched to dials. "I am not having intimate relations with her," he hissed.
"OK, Al, I get it," Charlie pacified, putting her hands up in surrender.
Calming down after a moment, Alastor cleared his throat. "We are friends, my dear, and nothing more. Though as of this moment I'm sure my position as such is questionable at best in her mind."
"So you were close for other reasons?"
Alastor had glazed over details of the argument they were in the midst of before the conversation fell through, and he wished the situation involving Vox to remain private, at least for now. "I do not like repeating myself, my dear. We had a disagreement; nothing more."
"About..?" Vaggie pressed, flatly.
"That is personal," he growled.
"Well, if you pull something like this again, your personal business becomes shared business," Vaggie warned, pointing her spear at him for emphasis. "For now, keep your claws to yourself; you've done enough damage as it is."
As she whirled around to walk out the door with Charlie in tow, Alastor called out, "Oh, one more thing, Charlie dear."
Charlie turned to face him. "What's up?"
"I would like to propose revisiting Eliza's current state of compensation- or lack thereof- for her work at our lovely hotel!"
Charlie gasped. "I almost forgot: She's still not getting paid!"
"Perhaps, once all this unpleasantness lies behind us, we can all sit down and discuss a figure with her," he suggested.
Nodding in agreement, the princess walked out of the office and shut the door. Alastor managed the hotel's finances most of the time, but she had letters to write and fliers to post. They had to cut back on advertising recently, so it fell on her to post them all over the city, and she was still in the middle of making them.
Alastor sat back in his chair and sighed as he folded his hands on his lap. He had wasted a good hour or so just calming down the princess' raging flame (though stopping everything at 9am sharp to turn on every radio in the hotel made the moth demoness so satisfyingly angry), and then another hour regaling them with every detail he was willing to share. While normally he could be accused of embellishing the truth to bolster his case, he felt there were no words strong enough to describe the effect her smell had on him at the time. Even now, the mere memory of it made him crave meat; he didn't care from what, so long as it was raw and bleeding.
But, despite his carnivorous desires, there was more he needed to do. For one thing, he needed eyes on the therapist's interactions with his rival. She may have seemed honest with him, but he simply couldn't be sure without verification. While normally such reconnaissance was something he would ask of Husk, she was already very aware of their association, and so he would be too obvious.
But there were those in the cannibal colony who would drop everything to assist, and so he walked over to his phone. Far more sophisticated than the modern garbage that most carried nowadays, he lifted the receiver and dialed a very trusted friend.
"Hello, Rosie dear!" he greeted, cheerfully. "I'm afraid I need assistance in a somewhat delicate matter."
As he told her of the confrontation with Eliza over her less than ideal association, there was silence followed by a concerningly long pause after he finished. Finally, Rosie answered, "Alastor, my dear, meet me at the edge of the Cannibal Colony for a stroll. We'll grab a bite to eat as we walk and have a little chat about this."
When he hung up the phone, he glanced at his desk for a moment. Apparently his letter to Eliza would have to wait a while, so he vanished into thin air. While always a pleasure to go see a friend, her tone suggested that whatever she wanted to talk about, it wasn't going to be pleasant. It must involve Eliza and Vox somehow, which concerned him more.
Does Rosie already know something about this?
Eliza felt like her anxiety was going to make her crazy. Now past the point of crying it out, she found herself with too much energy to stay still, but unsure what to do with herself. Pacing at the foot of her bed, she still walked on all fours as her body retained its draconic shape. Sighing in resignation, she decided to go look in a mirror and take in her new form.
In her current state, standing on two legs was actually quite difficult, and so she grabbed the edge of the sink and lifted herself up. With her longer neck, it took little effort to see her face, and she froze as she came face-to-face with a dragon. The elongated snout, black scales and inverted eyes; she didn't even recognize herself. She's never actually seen her eyes this way, and while Alastor told her about how they changed when she became angry, it was another matter to actually see it. They certainly looked rather intimidating, especially with two smooth horns sprouting from her brow and wrapping around her head like a crown.
When she first arrived in Hell, her form had been so nearly normal compared to some others that it didn't take long to accept, but this was something else entirely. Inspecting herself closely, she rose higher to see more of her strange transformation. Her wings were large, unable to spread out completely within the confines of the bathroom, and… was that a tail? How had she not noticed that before? It almost reached the floor, and the membranes of her wings ended at the tip.
As she was quite a bit taller now, she arched her neck around her body in an attempt to see the back, but couldn't quite move it far enough. Eventually she moved to the wall opposite the mirror and leaned against it, turning her head to see where the wings connected into her back. When she finally found a position that worked, she realized that they didn't attach in the same way muscle and bone would. Instead, the arms started to separate into tendrils, much like how they start before taking on the appearance of solid shape. Perhaps that was why summoning them never seemed to tear her clothes; because they just move around them, much like her rose.
After a moment of staring, she started getting more curious. Had anyone walked into the bathroom at that moment, they would have laughed at her stumbling around to get a better view of herself. Bending and stretching into strange positions, she actually lost her balance at one point and ended up sprawled on her back, having to twist her spine and stretch to get back onto all fours. This new form is so very awkward!
There was one wonderful side-effect of being stuck this way, however: her wings seemed to be completely under her control. Finally she could do simple things like flex the fingers, spread them wide and enjoy the wing-span (limited of course by the space), and she could fold the arms around herself like wearing a cloak. If she didn't seem to be stuck walking on all fours, perhaps she could walk around anywhere she wanted without even needing to put on clothes, as they covered her entire body rather well.
As it was, she folded her wings behind her back until they gripped her shoulders and made her way out of the bathroom. They draped behind her like a cape, so she still felt pretty badass.
Until her stomach growled. With everything that happened that morning, she had completely forgone food. Making her way to the kitchenette, she figured some bacon and eggs would be more than enough, but then encountered yet another problem. Since she couldn't seem to stand on two legs at the moment, cooking at the stove really didn't seem to be working out. Just getting out what she needed and putting it in place seemed to be rather difficult.
"You have got to be kidding me," she moaned. "There has to be a way to make this work!"
Cooking took a painfully long time. Holding the counter with one wing to keep steady, she kept knocking things over because she'd forget how long her limbs are. She was taller and needed to squat, and her arms kept overshooting whatever they were reaching for. Then there was the snout, which was hard to be mindful of because she'd put her face close to something just to bump her nose into it.
Still, the food came out alright (the eggs were a little over seasoned, but using a salt-shaker is hard right now), and so she made her way to the table to sit, holding the plate in her mouth. Putting it down, she found yet another fun experiment: Sitting. It took some effort to find a comfortable position, and in the end she ended up laying over the entire length of the couch. As awesome as being a dragon was, there were definitely details to iron out.
Fortunately or otherwise, she started to revert back to normal as she ate. Apparently turning back took too much energy, and between the sleep deprivation and the fact that she hadn't eaten anything the entire night, she just didn't have the strength to become her ordinary self again. Although if that was the case, she wondered how she was capable of transforming in the first place, unless her usual form took more energy to maintain.
Something to keep in mind.
Finally back to normal, a fact that was both a relief and somewhat disappointing, she got up to wash her dishes when her phone rang. Since she didn't really get contacted by a lot of people, it wasn't much work to guess who was calling her.
"Hello, Vox," she greeted, hoping she didn't sound nearly as tired as she felt.
"Hey there, sweet-cheeks." Eliza's eye twitched. Vox had started coming up with strange nicknames for her, and despite shutting them down, he didn't seem inclined to stop. If anything, he was prepared this time; "And before you say it, no, I'm gonna keep going until one sticks."
"Of course you are," she sighed in exasperation. "Anyways, what can I do for you?"
"I was worried you were avoiding me," he teased. "It's not like you not to call back for so long."
"It's… been a rough morning." That was the most information she was going to share. The last thing she needed was Vox trying to puff his chest at his rival, and right now she didn't need Alastor coming around for another 'chat' about her going out with someone not pre-approved.
She'd compare him to an overprotective father-figure, but frankly given her personal experience, that seemed unnecessarily cruel.
"Well, maybe you need to get out and relax," Vox offered. She could practically feel his mischievous grin pulsing through the device. "Come out tonight; there's a great club I'd like to take you to. You could even meet one of my business partners; I'm sure you'll just love him, and he'd like to meet you."
Eliza paused for a moment. Business partner? She knew about the three V's, but surely he didn't mean one of them. Why would either Valentino or Velvet (neither of whom she knew personally) want to meet her? In fact, he said 'him,' so it would have to be Valentino. The only association they would have is that he's Angel Dust's boss, and she doubted there was any reason that fact would make her relevant to the pimp overlord. Her professionalism, not to mention her contract with the hotel, forbade her from sharing information on her clients, and Vox was well aware of this. So why? Unless...
"Are they interested in becoming a client?" she asked. Surely that was the only reason they'd want to meet her.
"No, he'd never see a shrink," he answered quickly. Well, so much for that idea.
"Then why does he want to meet with me?"
"Just trust me sweet-cheeks, it'll be a very productive meeting, alright?" Vox was being disturbingly vague, and Eliza was ready to decline when he said, "I want to help you out of working for peanuts. If you're still not being paid, then you'll want to be here for this. Besides, if you are being paid, I can promise that I can pay better than whatever the princess is offering."
"But you said-"
"Trust me," he repeated, firmly.
Eliza bristled at being cut off, but couldn't deny that she was curious. "I'm not in the mood to go out tonight. Could it be tomorrow?"
There was a pause on the other end of the line, and she heard the muffled sounds of people talking in the background. When Vox finally came back, his answer was short and simple: "No."
She sighed. On the one hand, if there was a business opportunity to take a job better than her current one, it was a great professional decision to take it. On the other hand, she still didn't trust Vox completely, and this seemed further proof that he wanted something from her. Still, if it was a quid-pro-quo with acceptable terms, then it might not be all bad. "Very well; I'll meet you tonight."
"Excellent," he cheered. "I'll pick you up in front of the bank, say around… Six?"
"Six it is," she agreed.
"It's a date then!" He laughed loudly when he heard her groan on the other end of the line before saying his goodbyes and hanging up. Eliza looked at the clock; she had four hours until then. Deciding to take the time to meditate, something she hasn't been doing as much lately, she stripped down and sat on the bed, taking deep breaths and repeating her mantra over and over. Tonight, she needed to focus, because if this turned out to be a trick, she needed to be ready to decline, as well as possibly deal with an overlord that refuses to take no for an answer. Vox can be very, very persuasive, but when talking doesn't work, she doubted anyone as successful as him, especially in Hell, was likely to take rejection well.
"There you are, Rosie dear!" Alastor greeted when his friend rounded a corner.
"I hope I didn't keep you waiting long." Offering her hand, Alastor placed a kiss on her knuckles and the two began to walk along at a leisurely pace.
"So, shall we wait until finding a meal, or should we get our unpleasant business out of the way first?" Alastor questioned, openly tense about the situation.
"I would hate to spoil your appetite," Rosie began, "but I can see you're rather upset about this whole ordeal." Indeed, there weren't too many people who could read the overlord's expressions well, but they had been friends for many decades. That, and Rosie is a very attentive woman. One doesn't thrive in Hell without being so. "I assume you would prefer not being kept in suspense?"
"Normally quite the treat; but yes, this matter can not wait. However, before you tell me what you know, I simply must ask; if you knew of this, why did you say nothing to me?" With Rosie he kept calm; he knew she had her secrets she kept. Much like him, she seeks entertainment in the suffering of the rabble, but it rarely affected him so directly.
She laughed lightly. "Oh my dear friend; if I told you of this, the poor girl would never be permitted a peaceful existence." After that, she told him of what she saw at the Golden Grande. Vox's advances, Eliza's passive resistance, and how the two seemed to enjoy dancing around each other in a strange little game where neither wanted to tip their hand.
"So Eliza enjoys playing dangerous games," Alastor mused. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, but with him? Surely there are better partners for such things."
"Like you?" Rosie probed, earning a laugh from the man.
"I am certainly better company, and I always enjoy a good verbal spar with a worthy opponent." He turned to face Rosie for a moment and added, "Still, I wish you mentioned this, Rosie dear. This is rather important information, you know!"
"Oh, but I enjoy such juicy little secrets," she teased. "And besides, we may be good friends, but I do have a bit of a soft spot for your little pet."
"Oh?" Alastor asked, genuinely amused. "So she is my pet now? Should I clean up after her; make her perform for treats?"
"Only if you want to have your hand bitten off," Rosie teased, though her tone sounded half-serious. "No, but I can sense your attachment, deary. Much like little Niffty, or that silly cat, you have become quite fond of her. Is she not yet another pet to add to your collection?"
"Not yet, but perhaps some day," he answered. "But first, I would remove that cheaply packaged box of loose wires from the equation entirely. However, I... made an error today."
"You?" Rosie asked in disbelief. "And what error would that be?"
Twice in one day, Alastor was forced to recount his actions. With Rosie, however, he spared no detail.
"Quite the error, indeed!" she agreed. "I'm surprised, however. This isn't the first encounter you've had with a pheromone of sorts. Remember Cassie?"
Alastor grimaced. "A repulsive woman I would pay nearly any price to purge from my memory; but yes, I do."
"That silly little snake filled the air with them!" Rosie laughed. "Oh, the frenzy that followed… And yet you just stood there, watching as she was torn apart, and it was all for you. You weren't even slightly affected, if I recall."
"You recall correctly. The smell was rancid; I was amazed anyone came near her, let alone what they attempted to do with her. That rotten fruit drew in far too many flies! Ha!"
"All but the one she wanted," Rosie added, merrily. "I was surprised that you just stood by, however. Normally you come to a woman's defense."
"She brought it upon herself," he dismissed.
"And Eliza? Did she not bring this upon herself?"
"Her abilities confuse me greatly. I want to see what causes each little change in her powers. I once believed that her anger brought only a chill, but when I got close, the very air felt like it was burning." Rosie raised an eyebrow, but didn't interrupt. "I back her into a corner this morning, and instead of a violent reaction, she uses a blasted pheromone!" Rosie's other eyebrow rose to meet the first, and her smile widened. "And this is certainly the first time I've seen her full demon form! Quite threatening indeed, and far more bestial than I ever expected."
Rosie started to giggle. It was light, but as Alastor continued to rant, it morphed into a hearty laughter that forced her to stop walking.
Alastor tilted his head. Normally he would catch on after a moment as to what she was thinking, but in this case he was thoroughly lost. "Mon cher, what in Lucifer's name has you in such hysterics? Calm yourself, woman! Breathe; if the thought is so very entertaining, I simply must know what it is!"
Rosie fought to breathe as she fanned herself, collecting her wits once more. "Oh, my dear old friend; how very clueless you are!"
He blinked. "I don't follow."
"Of course you don't! You've never had a woman who's caught your fancy before, have you?" When he merely stared at her, she decided to spell it out for him a little more. "But she fancies you, doesn't she?"
"...It is possible," he admitted after a moment. "But she has never acted on it, so I am unsure."
"Oh, don't start doubting a woman's intuition," Rosie reprimanded, folding her fan and tapping it on her palm. "You thought she was sociopathic, but I said otherwise. Has that not proven true?"
"Yes, it has indeed," he conceded. "Very well then, though I still don't see your point in the matter."
"My point is this; before now, all attempts women have made to turn your head have failed. But now there's a woman that not only entertains you, but interests you in a way other women have not. Otherwise, I doubt this attempt would have been any more successful than all the others. Perhaps your wants don't match her own, but they must align somewhere or else you would never have reacted so strongly."
Alastor's eyes glazed over for a moment as he considered her words before saying, "Her fascination with the many forms of perversion suggests she wants something I have no interest in giving, so I fail to see how that's the case. I will not deny that she is a fine specimen, but that is hardly enough reason for me to take her to bed."
Rosie giggled. "Oh, there are many things intercourse can provide, but that might not be the only things she needs. You said you wished to know what she wanted from your rival, but tell me this: If she thinks of you in a romantic light despite knowing you're disinterested, then what's to stop her from accepting such attention from someone who offers it freely? Someone who has something to gain from such a relationship?"
"I will not woo someone just to one-up my rival," he growled.
"Then let her pursue him freely until he either wins her over or loses her interest entirely. If you are so unwilling to give her what she wants, then she's not much of a loss, now is she? Let her go to him and forget the woman. It's not as though you lack adoring fans." Alastor noticed that behind her, a group of cannibal women were staring longingly at him, to which he tipped his hat.
Yes, she was right; what did he need of a woman who would ask more of him than he wished to give? Except that she never asked, not once. Instead, she respected his wish to remain as he was, but despite herself still gave him conversation and other entertainment. In fact, hadn't he asked her if she was falling for him? What had been her answer..?
Then it dawned on him that she never gave him an answer; she just danced around the question and moved on. He said he wouldn't have minded, but if she had said she did, it would have made him more uncomfortable than he cared to admit. Instead of enjoying their time, he would simply be waiting for her to make a move, and the entire experience would be ruined.
How… considerate.
"Shall we grab a bite, my dear?" he asked, feeling his appetite return with a vengeance. "There are many shadowy places to find delicious dark hearts to consume."
"Let's," she agreed, and the two made their way along. Rosie hummed quietly, and Alastor lost himself in his thoughts. Rosie's suggestion swirled in his head, but he had no intention of merely letting this go. It wasn't that he simply wanted to know, he needed to. What was she telling his rival? She said that he was never brought up in conversation, but surely that wasn't true. That tin-headed oaf wanted something from her, but what else at the hotel would interest him other than taking a shot at Alastor?
He needed to write that letter, but he also needed to calm down. Having no desire to lose another chance at information, he had to play his cards carefully now that his slip-up put her on edge. Perhaps he would spend the day out and about with his friend, but where to go…
"Is Mimzy performing tonight?" he asked suddenly. "I think listening to her lovely voice would be just the thing to brighten up this miserable day."
"If she isn't, she will when she hears you're coming," Rosie teased. "Shall we give her a ring?"
"No, let it be a surprise!" he cheered. "It will be fun to see her nearly faint when I walk in; she hasn't seen me there in so long she might think me a hallucination, ha!"
"She'll love it." As the two made their way along, they found themselves outside the colony, and the streets were rather populated. "Oh, the middle of the year; the population is starting to pick back up again! What joy, perhaps we'll find an excellent meal here."
Alastor smiled; that smile that toed the line of madness that his hunger brought him to, where even his gums showed and his teeth gleamed. "And so many who aren't aware of my reputation who will boldly commit their crimes before me. Such ample hunting grounds, indeed!"
Author's Note:
Alright everyone, without going into too much detail, here's what's going on: Shit hit the fan in life and things got crazy FAST. As such, I'm gonna be missing a lot of Saturday updates because, as of this moment, I don't have a lot of time to write, and I hate posting shoddy work just to make a weekly deadline. Under no circumstances am I going to stop writing this story; I love it so much and it's been a huge stress-relief for me. However, expecting weekly updates is simply unreasonable right now, hence why this chapter is a week late. So you have been warned; updates will come but there is no longer a regular weekly schedule. Still only posting on Saturdays though. Gotta keep some semblance of order in these crazy times. Always look forward to updates, just expect them to be scattered!
Also, to anyone who's seen Helluva Boss Ep. 4: Is anyone else wondering if Vivziepop's Heaven is even worth going to? Like, I have some serious concerns about that place after seeing the Cherubs and that bitchy deer boss of theirs. I mean, what the fuck?!
