Chapter 33

Hell Has Holidays?

Rosie's Emporium really was more than just a fashion boutique! Leaving Alucard at the front desk to keep Fauxi company, though the young woman seemed rather wary of him, the owner showed her guest around, watching as the therapist's enthusiasm slowly surfaced. Eliza knew of the bottom floor where racks upon racks of fabrics, buttons, designs and threads waited to be sewn together into whatever the customer required, but the second floor was an even greater delight.

Jewelry.

Specifically it was separated by chains and bands, pendants, ring settings, fasteners, books full of designs to make up for what wasn't currently available on the floor, and a section that, before she could catch herself, had Eliza staring in absolute shameless envy: the greatest collection of gemstones she had ever seen in her existence. The classics such as rubies, sapphires, emeralds, diamonds and more were all present and in various sizes, but there were others that she rarely saw and couldn't identify at a glance but had her captivated regardless. God help her, she didn't want to leave that area for anything.

In life she had never been much for wearing jewelry, but it had always been something of a temptation to collect beautiful stones and gems for her personal enjoyment. Unfortunately such things were simply too expensive, so she instead kept a small collection of geodes that she'd buy whenever she had a few dollars to spare. It was always fun, because she was pretty good at guessing what kind of crystal structures were inside after a close examination of the exterior, but somehow getting it wrong was always more entertaining.

Still, eventually she succeeded in stepping away to examine the rest of Rosie's stock. Classic cameos, gothic chokers, freaking oversized gangster chains… She had a little of everything that's existed over the last century at least, though some things seemed much older, somehow. If it wasn't utterly rude to do so, she'd ask how old Rosie actually was. Eliza always assumed that the overlord probably died around Alastor's time period, maybe even earlier, but her stock suggested that she's perhaps been around for much longer than she realized, or at the very least was very knowledgeable about different eras of fashion.

But if the first and second floors were a wonderland of fashion and style, the third and final floor was the land of fine dining and tea time if it was pulled out of Bram Stoker's Dracula. Beautiful tables decorated in various sets of tablecloths, tableware and tea-sets, most of which were absolutely lovely, held the equivalent of a cannibalistic buffet of organs, various cuts of meat and what looked like strips of skin. Fortunately for her nose, the 'food' seemed to be fake, much like using plastic fruit to decorate a table, but it still made her hesitate at the top of the stairs.

"Oh don't worry dearie, we wouldn't waste food for decoration," Rosie assured her, though Eliza had a feeling that the overlord had the wrong idea of why she was so bothered by walking into this situation. "This is where we have our business dinners, which I host on occasion for my staff and a few select friends and business partners, but obviously it'd be silly to have it set up at all times with edible arrangements!"

Calling a table full of human parts 'edible arrangements' made Eliza's eyebrows raise almost into her hairline, and she decided to completely ignore the implications and take a quick look around. Admittedly, despite the questionable food choices being displayed, the tea-sets held her interest and she took a long time looking over the different styles. Her favorite, oddly enough, was a plain white set with silver lining and a pearlescent sheen. It was hard to look away from, and Rosie caught her staring.

"A fine choice, to be sure," Rosie commented. "A pity you haven't been paid yet."

Letting her expression flatten in annoyance, Eliza turned away from the tempting little set. Well, she lived on a massive budget all her life before; no point dreaming any bigger now. Still, it was so hard not to want things when surrounded by so much shiny goodness. Maybe she shouldn't come back to this store too often; it was dangerous to be here. That, and certain things made her feel… strange. Like she wanted to surround herself with all the pretty things and, well… she wasn't really sure what she wanted to do with it, but she wanted it all the same. It was a lot easier to say no in life, but down here it's like every want and desire is magnified, and the validation of knowing that no one in Hell could or even would judge you for it wasn't helping in the slightest.

"All three floors are amazing," she praised. "How do you get all this stuff? The fabric, the dinnerware, the jewels and jewelry… Where do they all come from?"

"Metals and gems, believe it or not, come from the Sloth Ring," she answered with a giggle. "Slave labor is a big commodity there, and they tend to sell unrefined ore for cheap so that they don't have to deal with it themselves. There are plenty of places in Pentagram City that can take care of refining, and both Anxi and I can shape metal and take care of fittings. Anxi works on the second floor."

Eliza looked utterly confused. "I didn't see anyone there, is she off today?"

"He," Rosie corrected, "and he was there, but I assure you that you won't see him. I'm afraid he's quite shy, and while I prefer my staff to be energetic and welcoming, his talent for metalwork and skill as a jeweler is something I simply can't give up. In return for allowing him to maintain a reclusive existence, he practically lives in this shop and works non-stop."

"That sounds like a downright lopsided deal," the therapist droned, bluntly.

"Ah, but Agoraphobia is so wonderfully exploitable," Rosie contested with a sly grin. "Would you truly deny a man his hard-earned, lonesome existence?"

Eliza was about to comment, but then Alastor came to mind and the words shifted before she could stop them. "What if the man doesn't actually want to be alone?"

Giving a single, somewhat harsh laugh, Rosie fanned herself thoughtfully. "Oh, with as hard as he works for it, I assure you it is exactly what he wants."

Not wanting to give away that her sporadic question actually had nothing to do with Rosie's mysterious jeweler, she said, "If you say so," and dropped the subject entirely. Tilting her head, Rosie watched as her aura withdrew slightly and realized she must have missed something, because the curious woman seemed to abandon that thought far too quickly.

"But I suppose if he didn't want it," Rosie mused just loudly enough for the young sinner to hear, "then he might like having a special friend in every now and then, just to say hi. It would have to be someone quiet though; he's a rather private man."

For a silent moment the overlord watched her aura uncoil, and in an exposed moment the woman sighed. "Yea, I guess he is." Then she straightened in an instant, and the aura practically snapped back into place as she realized she'd almost let herself be baited. She then shifted the conversation from the jeweler to the cloth on the first floor, and Rosie giggled knowingly. It didn't matter how hard the young lady tried; she couldn't hide her feelings forever.

It's one of the many wonderful things about Hell; all secrets tend to expose themselves eventually.


When Eliza returned to the Hotel at the end of the day, mercifully dropped off at the entrance by an old-fashioned black and red sedan that she didn't recognize but had to be straight out of the 20s or 30s, she stopped dead in her tracks the moment she walked through the front door.

"What… is going on?" she asked, hesitantly.

Pink balloons, heart-shaped hanging decorations, lovey-dovey posters on the walls and more were being put up all over the lobby, and she felt her eye twitch as the awkwardness of it all practically slapped her in the face. Charlie and Vaggie were working on getting the wall decorations put up, while Angel was practically crawling along the ceiling to put up all the hanging hearts and other such things. Said arachnid looked down at her with a raised eyebrow.

"It's the second half o' the year," he called down, as if it should have been obvious. "You know, holiday time?"

She blinked up at him. "Hell has holidays? And more importantly… Valentine's Day?"

"Nuh-uh," Angel replied, waving his finger around dismissively. "Get it right, it ain't Valentine's Day, it's Lu-"

"Love day!" Charlie suddenly sprang up, interrupting the spider's explanation and leaving him huffing indignantly. "We're celebrating Love day!"

"Yea, yea, 'Love Day,'" Angel agreed in a downright bored tone, going back to hanging up his portion of the decorations. "Totally what I was gonna say, sure."

"Uh-huh." Eliza looked down at the rest of the room with an expression that bordered on disturbed, barely turning her head as her eyes drank in the creepy overuse of pinks, reds and other bright, warm colors. "So why are all the holidays in the second half of the year?"

"'Cause now there's more people around," Angel answered with a grin. "No fun havin' holidays too soon after a bunch o' people get axed, ya know? Ain't much of a party without people ta go nuts with!"

Suppressing a shiver, Eliza's eyebrows furrowed as she contemplated what that meant. For the next few months until the next Cleanse, there was probably going to be holiday after holiday. There could be lots of fun celebrations and parades to enjoy, but being in Hell meant that things were likely to get… awkward. Still, despite having issues with holidays on Earth, maybe they'd be more interesting down here without all the build-up and pretension that they tended to come with. Even so, the Valentines-style decorations were freaking her out a bit. "We, um… We don't have to decorate our rooms, right?"

Charlie looked at her curiously, unsure why she looked so bothered by everything, and Vaggie stepped up and told her, "We decorated all the doors already, but no, we're leaving the rooms alone."

Heaving a grateful sigh, Eliza immediately longed to hide away in her room of dark and neutral colors. All the mushy decorations made her feel terribly self-conscious. Even Alucard started shifting uncomfortably on her shoulder, nudging her cheek comfortingly as her shoulders became unnaturally tense. She gave him a quick pat on the head, but instead of being calmed by her touch he recoiled slightly at the uncomfortable interaction. "Well, I've had a long day and would really like to rest for the evening, so I'll just leave you all to it!" After that, she couldn't retreat to the back fast enough, and Charlie and Vaggie shared a questioning look.

What was that about?

Meanwhile, Angel just laughed from the ceiling. Some people just can't handle lovey-dovey stuff. Maybe they'd get lucky and Asmodeus would come up from the Lust Ring to party with the sinners; he's been known to do so on occasion.

Then he snickered when he thought of the King of Lust meeting their buttoned-up deer demon. Oh, that would be a glorious disaster!


There were so many things wrong with today that Alastor decided he was going to abandon his paperwork until he was in a better frame of mind. Oh, the second half of the year; the time of celebration of all things dark and depraved. Some holidays were exciting, while others were boring or otherwise lacking. But why did it have to start with Lust Day?!

Granted, Hell's princess was re-branding the holiday for the hotel's purposes, but it didn't change the fact that he wanted to hole up in his tower for a week like he did every year. It was one thing to suffer one miserable day, but the whole week would be drastically disconcerting, because leading up to Lust Day would be Pride Week. Apparently it's a carry-over of Pride Month in the living world, and the concept itself wasn't overly terrible, even if he didn't fully get it. Granted it was somewhat comforting to discover that his own lack of preference was now considered acceptable rather than strange and possibly deranged, but what was the point of celebrating it? That, and the local populace tended to get a bit, um… into it.

Publicly.

Ordinary exhibitionists aside, openly explicit acts would be horrifically common during that entire week, and he just couldn't stomach being out and about until it was over. Around this time, it was known even in the Cannibal Colony that no one would see hide nor hair of the Radio Demon until the holiday passed. And even with the promise of a less promiscuous time at the hotel with the princess and the staff, the decorations were a bit much even for him. Luckily the decorations were Charlie's, and therefore didn't have to be run through the budget, because if he found out that the money he managed was spent on this lovey-dovey theme, he may have felt a little sick. Although, the list of items she did want budgeted wasn't much better.

Sweets, as well as the ingredients to bake sweets. The amount of chocolate alone made him groan, but just how much was the princess planning to make?! She had mentioned letting guests bake confectionary goods for those they care about, but with as much as she requested, each guest could make enough for everyone to eat complete with leftovers! Now he had to tell her (AGAIN) that this was simply not in the hotel's budget.

Despite Charlie's natural inclination to be thoughtful of people, financial affairs did not seem to receive the same consideration. She often showed signs of deeper intuition and was obviously intelligent, but her privileged upbringing would surface at the most inconvenient times. Until he came along, the princess hadn't even formed any kind of plan on how to acquire liquid assets to keep this dream from going belly up.

He dragged his claws down his face in frustration. Paperwork made him too serious. He needed a distraction; something to take him off the unpleasant letter he just read. Normally the prospect of a new patron (and with a generous promised number at that) was something to celebrate, but there were many moving parts to this one that just made him irritable. For one thing, they requested that he come to their turf rather than coming to the hotel or meeting him half-way, as well as saying they only wished to meet him and not the hotel owner, which made him feel rather suspicious that it might be some form of trap. Whether or not it was a trap for him or having to do with the hotel itself, he still wasn't sure. On top of that, the patron wasn't even in the West Point of the pentagram. No, they were in the North Point, also known as the Asian Sector.

Oh joy of joys.

Alastor wasn't one to deny that he had the power and charm to go wherever he chose, but rarely did he choose to venture out of his comfort zone. The center of the Pentagram, or the European Sector, was the closest he got to broader travel, and even that was done rarely. His broken Creole French didn't get him very far, and he didn't like sticking out in unfamiliar territory. Not to mention how embarrassing it is to get lost, and he often did so. Besides, the West Point was more than large enough to keep him suitably entertained, so why bother?

Still, it was good to get the hotel's name out of a single section of the city, despite his less than flattering opinion on the matter, so he would likely go and just bring Husk as his reliable translator, as the cat spoke at least two languages that were bound to be helpful. Taking one more look at the unpleasant invitation, he noted that the meeting would be taking place in a month's time during a festival called the "Jigoku Nebuta Matsuri." Whatever that is, hopefully it will be a sight more pleasant than "Lust Day." That, and if the meeting is to take place in a public setting, perhaps his fears of a trap were unfounded. Even so, he was going to make sure Husk was prepared in case he needed back-up.

After all, despite being one of the most powerful sinners in the West Point, he didn't know what kind of people ruled the other districts, and not all Overlords are sinners. Some are demons, and very powerful ones at that, so some preparation is in order.

Later.

For now, he felt like going for a stroll, but first he needed to wait for someone to arrive at his office. He was expecting company, and said company arrived right on time, because he didn't have to wait long before a knock sounded at his door.

"Come on in!" he invited. When the hotel's resident spider walked in with a mischievous smile and swaying hips, Alastor held back an annoyed groan. Must this man always approach him like this? That's not even mentioning the feminine attire he wore; a modern ensemble made up of a shoulderless long-sleeve dress sweater held up by black straps and tight, black shorts . "Have a seat, Angel."

When a chair appeared on the opposite side of the desk, Angel gave a mock pout before sitting with his arm over the back and his legs crossed. "Nice an' homey in 'ere, Smiles! Lovin' the mood lighting an' everything! Got somethin' in mind, sweetie?"

"I'm afraid you're doomed to disappointment, my dear," he said snarkily, flinching internally as he referred to him with a term usually reserved for women. The clothes were not helping, and perhaps he simply needed to accept the fact that Angel was always going to confuse him. "I wish to discuss a serious matter involving Eliza."

Thankfully, the sultry expression dropped at the mention of the therapist. "What's up? Seems like smooth sailin' lately for you guys."

"Progress has been steady," the overlord confirmed with a nod, "but there is another matter that must be addressed, and quickly."

Angel narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Now hang on a sec, cutie. I ain't gonna spy or nothin', ya hear?"

Alastor gave a quick, sharp laugh. "Oh, no, nothing of the sort! Are you familiar with what caused the conflict?"

Tilting his head, Angel replied, "Yea, she was seein' Vox an' ya didn't take it well. So? Ain't that ova already?"

"That's… not what I meant. You see, despite the tense exchange I never had any intention of hurting her, but there were other factors involved. Namely, a… pheromone, of sorts, and this poses a problem to moving forward."

The failed attempt to hold back a smirk made Alastor quickly regret this decision, but the spider tried very hard not to laugh as he asked, "Wait, so all the bullshit was because the shrink accidentally got ya horny?"

"Not… exactly." Alastor realized he must have started blushing slightly, because Angel's face morphed into an expression that read 'Uh-huh, sure.' "I'm afraid it resulted in me almost eating her, in point of fact."

"Ugh, figures," the arachnid grimaced. "Vorarephilia; makes sense since you're a cannibal, but still. Definitely not my favorite kink."

At the risk of regretting it, the deer demon gave the spider a questioning glance as he echoed, "Kink?"

"Means ya get all riled up by somethin'; like power play, electric shock, pain…"

"And Vorarephilia is..?"

"Gettin' turned on by eatin' someone. Or gettin' eaten, either one. And I ain't talkin' 'bout suckin' some guy's dick, either."

The sheer look of disgust on Alastor's face was priceless. "Excuse me?!"

"Hey, I ain't judgin'," Angel stated, holding his four hands up in a placating manner. "Everyone's got their niche, that just ain't mine 's all."

"I assure you I have never found eating others to be anything even remotely sexual!" the overlord exclaimed, his voice rising in pitch as static filled the air.

Watching as distortion started to appear around them, Angel realized very quickly that he needed to calm the man down. "OK, so it ain't a kink! Fine! But pheromones are s'pposed ta get ya in the mood, yea? So why'd ya go for it if it ain't, ya know… sexy to ya?"

There was a long and very awkward pause as Alastor found himself unable to answer. Finally, almost robotically, he stated, "I don't know, and we're leaving it at that. Am I clear?"

"Whateva ya say, mio caro."

"What?"

When the static started to increase again, Angel hurried with an explanation. "It means my dear!" More static. "Aw, come on! You call everyone that all the time!"

After a long, tense moment, the static disappeared and Alastor calmed once more. Angel released the air he'd been holding in, and Alastor continued on as if nothing had happened. "Anyways, I was hoping to recruit your assistance in this matter, as you are more… familiar with these sorts of things than I. I have already asked Charlie for her help, and she readily agreed."

"Uh… not sure what you're askin' for here…"

"Eliza and I have agreed that perhaps controlled exposure might help avoid future incidents by allowing me to develop a resistance to the effects," he explained. "Seeing as the first case of it was purely accidental, it's likely to happen again and, if so, we would like to make it easier to deal with by experimentation now rather than later."

"And I'm s'pposed to do… what, exactly?"

"You and Charlie are to be an unbiased third party offering insight into the situation. Think of yourself as an outside opinion; someone able to offer ideas or suggestions from a hopefully unaffected position. Also, we would have both of you act as back-up should things get out of hand."

A cocky smile spread across the spider's face. "Now THAT I can do!" The next thing Alastor knew, his third set of arms sprouted and the spider was fully outfitted with multiple tommy guns and a single pistol. The deer couldn't deny being somewhat impressed. "I always come prepared for action!"

The overlord gave an approving whistle. "So I see! Does this mean I can count on your help in this matter?"

"Yea, I'll be there. Gimme a time an' place an' I'll keep it PG for ya."

Despite the sly smile and the arachnid sticking his tongue out playfully, Alastor gave a relieved sigh. "Thank you, Angel. Your assistance is most appreciated." Angel blinked at the man, but before he could say anything Alastor continued, "I believe we have reached a point where Eliza might be willing to move forward with this, or so I hope. Now that I have you and Charlie on board, I will approach her about whether or not this is a good time to start."

"Well," Angel began, standing up from his chair and letting his weapons fade back to where they spawned from, "you lemme know an' I'm game." With his trademark hip-sway, he strolled over to the door and took hold of the frame to swing around and out of sight, but briefly caught himself.

"Is something on your mind, my good fellow?" Alastor asked, raising an eyebrow at the unexpected pause.

At first Angel hesitated, knowing that he's already close to Alastor's shit list for the day, but then he decided that he didn't care and desperately wanted to take one more jab at him. "So… nothin' sexual 'bout eatin' people, yea?"

Ears flattening in annoyance, the overlord sighed. "That is correct, Angel."

"But you eat everythin', yea? No wastin' shit?"

"I have never been a wasteful man, no. Why?"

The arachnid suddenly brightened up, turning to face Alastor with the most falsely innocent grin the man had ever seen. "So I'm not the only person in this room who eats dick! Good ta know~!"

The sound of a screeching microphone sounded as Alastor dug grooves into his desk, and the spider laughed and fled as shadows chased him down the hall.


North Point

Looking over the rowdy street market with a bored sigh, a lovely, youthful woman dressed as a Geisha waited outside a tent-like structure with an unpleasant grimace, fanning herself as she scanned the crowd. She hated being here; the place was drowning in commoners. She couldn't even debase herself to hunt in a place like this; plenty of young and foolish men here, but none of them even slightly desirable. Her stomach turned just looking at them.

When a young man covered with white-black feathers and bearing the bill of a crane walked out to greet her, she turned on her heel and snapped her fan closed. In spiteful Japanese, she snapped, /Why does grandmother keep me waiting? Is she not ready to see me?/

The young sinner bowed his head low. /Many apologies, mistress. I-/

In a fit of impatience, she sliced off the young man's head with a razor-sharp appendage that sprouted from her back, bearing the form of a spider's leg. Immediately following, she heard the sound of sharp, distant laughter emanating from within.

/Such a stubborn child,/ the voice mocked, and the Geisha scoffed as she made her way inside. Larger than it appeared from the outside, wispy curtains hung from an unseen ceiling, obscured lightly by smoke. Holding her nose as the unpleasant odor made her queasy, both her senses of smell and sight took a moment to adjust. Finally she saw the shadowy figure in the distance, making her way through until she found the center of the tent, where the matriarch of the Kitsune lay across a low-sitting, plush sleeper sofa, breathing out unnatural amounts of smoke each time she removed the ornate, wooden opium pipe from her lips.

/I asked to see you days ago!/ the young woman complained, kneeling before her grandmother with a respectful bow, though she scowled the whole time. /You know I hate waiting like this, especially when I do as you ask and make an appointment!/

/As long as you have your childish fits, you will be made to wait like one,/ she scolded with a smirk, swirling her pipe around and making rings of smoke dance in the air. /Now, what can I do for you?/

The youthful woman clicked her tongue, leaning back slightly with a cocky smile. /I have sent out the invitation to West Point's infamous Wendigo./

/So your taste has extended past our sector; so what?/ her grandmother drawled in a bored tone. /It is not unusual for you to crave what lies beyond your reach./

/He will not remain out of reach for long,/ she boasted with a laugh. /He will come to me, I am certain!/

/If you've come to boast, don't bother. I have better things to do than listen to your latest fancies./ When the younger woman started to change, showing large fangs and sprouting several sharp, gold-and-black spider legs, the Kitsune merely pointed a finger at her to halt her transformation, holding her transfixed. /Hold your temper, child. It is not worth death./

Watching closely, the elder demoness only released the spider when her aura calmed, and even then the smoke seemed to swirl in unnatural ways from that moment on. With a deep sigh, the now calmed woman stated, /I have come for a reading, grandmother. I wish to know what I must overcome to get what I want./

At first, the fox merely studied her with raised eyebrows before breaking out into an amused grin. /A wise, cautious approach? How unusual for you!/

/Oh, be serious, grandmother!/

/Ha! Who says I'm not?/ She pointed her wooden pipe at the other woman in an accusatory manner, bearing a nasty smile all the while. /It's well known that you don't think your schemes through! You use youthful vigor to win over impatient men; not much thought is needed there. Just a pretty face and a loose kimono is more than-/

/Grandmother!/ she snapped, spitting venom as rage and embarrassment took over for a brief moment before reining herself back. Composed once more, she continued in a matter-of-fact tone, /This man is quite different, and requires a… delicate touch./

/What's he doing coming to you, then?/

Deciding just to ignore the fox's cruel jabs, she stated, /He doesn't know what I want, and until his final moments he won't know what I want. But I need to know what dangers he presents./

Staring at her in disbelief, the elder merely huffed. /That mean you're able to pay?/

/Of course./ Reaching into a flowery satchel sitting on her hip, she pulled out a small box, causing the fox's harsh disposition to lighten considerably. Then she lifted the lid and revealed neatly packaged rows of light brown, fluffy-looking cubes.

Licking her lips, the elder demon held out her paw expectantly, staring intently at her favorite food; fried tofu. The moment the Geisha handed it over, she dug in greedily as the younger woman watched in mild disgust. Despite being one of the elder demons, she seemed more than willing to throw out propriety whenever someone brought her preferred 'payment'. When the box lay empty, the fox pulled out the chopsticks from her lips with a contented sigh. /You've gotten better; well done! Very well, I'll give you a reading./

Holding her fan up to her face, the other woman smiled in satisfaction. /Thank you, grandmother. Now, I need to know; what must I do once he arrives? How can I tempt him, and more importantly, how can I make sure we aren't interrupted?/

Swirling the pipe around lazily, Kitsune held out a clawed hand for hers, and the Geisha took it gently. Her eyes went black, almost seeming to vanish completely as she delved into divinations that her granddaughter could only imagine. /The Wendigo is a hateful, paranoid creature; he will arrive as you boast, but he will not be alone. Beware his companions, for they will be unseen. You will not know them until they are upon you in his hour of need./

The young demoness tsked with a grimace. The letter had requested that he come alone, but perhaps that had been a foolish detail to add after all. Oh well, where he had companions, she had many children. She would deal with them one way or another.

/His powers are of shadows, and his will is strong. He will resist you up until the very end; always be vigilant. Be cautious in your approach, for few can touch him and fewer still could even hope to seduce him. He will not succumb willingly; your beauty and cleverness will fail you. Deceit is your only hope of success here, child. Wield it well, or your chance will be quickly lost./

/Who are his companions, grandmother? Can you see them? Tell me what to look for!/

/One will travel with him; an older soul and an experienced warrior. Do not be fooled; that one is weaker than the Wendigo by far, but will not fall easily./

The Geisha tilted her head. /You made it sound like there'd be more. Who else is there if he only brings one?/

/The other will come alone and unseen. He will not know to call this one, but if the Wendigo makes his danger known, that one will come for blood./

So, there would only be two to watch for, and as long as she kept Alastor quiet, one wouldn't even be involved. After a moment of silence, Kitsune returned to normal and sat back, holding her pipe to her lips and taking a long drag. /And there you have it; your reading. Make of it what you will./

/Perhaps I was worried for nothing,/ the younger woman giggled, standing up. /Thank you for your help, grandmother. That will be all./

/Don't get cocky, child,/ the elder warned, wearily. As much as she loved the Geisha's tofu, she never made enough to keep her energy up after a reading. /You may be an Overlord of the Yokai, but you are still one woman. You can be bested; even killed./

/They are only sinners, grandmother,/ she said haughtily, flashing a malevolent smile. /But I am Jorōgumo! My children can handle his companions, but Alastor is all mine!/

Kitsune watched as the Geisha left her domain, straight-backed and sure of her victory to come. Taking another long draw from her pipe, the tired fox merely chuckled and summoned a heated cup of sake, toasting the entrance of her tent where the mother of all whore spiders disappeared. "Kawazanyou."


Author's Notes:

"Kawazanyou" = Japanese equivalent of "Don't count your chickens before they're hatched."

Also, Jorōgumo will not have the ō from this moment on because I'm lazy and always forget how to do the special letters.

And because I expect flack, no I have no problem with Pride Month, but if you think for a second that it wouldn't be overly sexualized in Hell to an uncomfortable degree for a sex-repulsed individual, then whatever you're smoking, you better have enough to share.