Chapter 16: Teleology

The sun beat down on the red tile roofs of the small town of Bosa, the densely packed houses painted vibrant shades of blue, yellow, and orange. The light of the sun was unforgiving, but the gentle sea breeze that rolled in off the Mediterranean Sea blunted its sting and cool, fresh sea smell inundated the beautiful little town. Sitting outside a restaurant, under a parasol, were two young people, a man and a woman.

"Your coffee, signore, signora," said the waitress, setting a pair of tiny espresso mugs before them.

"Grazie," Moonchild said, smiling at her. She blushed furiously and curtsied, heading back into the restaurant.

"You know, Earth is pretty nice," Octavia said looking around at the quaint Sardinian village they'd decided to visit. "So calm and buttoned down. And the coffee's actually hot!"

"And not just when you spill it on yourself! Funny, before staying at the Hotel, I hadn't realized how much I missed hot coffee," Moonchild said, sipping his espresso. "Not to mention food that's dead by the time you eat it. That's actually the rule here on Earth."

"Nowhere's perfect," Octavia said, leaning back, sighing. "So. Feel better?"

"Not really," Moonchild said. "I mean, I needed that closure. Knowing that that's the end of it, the end of that man's suffering. I can move on now, but…"

"But you don't know where to go?" Octavia offered. "Now that he's back with you, in your head, it's like 'okay… what now', right?"

He nodded. "It's like… I'm climbing a mountain, and it took everything I had to get over this big rock, but then the clouds part and there's still miles to the summit. If Diavolo won't let himself be redeemed, how can I move on?"

"Well, that's just it, isn't it?" Octavia said, leaning back in her chair. "Even Charlie said someone has to want to be redeemed for it to work."

"Exactly," Moonchild said. "But I've got a plan… kind of."

Octavia sipped her espresso. "Let's hear it."

"Well, we were one person once. After our split, he took over because he was stronger than me. I've only been able to keep control because, well, after the Requiem he's…"

"Bugfuck bananas?"

"Kind of. It's like, I dunno, he's catatonic most of the time, and when he comes out of it, he's completely feral."

"I see," Octavia said, grimacing at what must be going on in Moonchild's head at any given time. "But what about back at the Hotel? He seemed pretty lucid then, for a complete nutter, anyway."

"That's just what I'm getting at. He touched me and, I dunno, consumed part of my sanity? After he did, he was calmer, more centered."

Octavia recalled back, to how Moonchild had reverted for a moment after that freak had touched him, her keen eyes had seen the flash of energy that had passed between them. Nature abhorred a vacuum, the crater in the madman's personae having siphoned what it lacked reflexively from what used to be part of itself.

"Made himself lucid by taking that from me. If I'm not strong enough, not well enough, he could do it again, or worse. So, I think, I need to get my own house in order before I try and fix some else's."

Octavia leaned forward, chin resting on her hand, a wry smile on her face. "Out with it, Moonie."

He paused, looking down at his fidgeting hands, he steeled himself and locked gazes with her. "I think I need to talk with your mother."

Octavia blinked in surprise, her smile vanishing. "Moonie, are you sure?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "But I can't really think of anything else that might be, I don't know, holding me back? I'd have to do it eventually, so why not now when I have a murderous psychopath in my head, right?" He laughed nervously, stopping upon seeing her bemused expression. "Okay, maybe it's not such a great idea…"

"No, I think you're right," Octavia said, gesturing at his forehead. "I mean, this situation's not exactly going to improve, so… yeah, yeah, let's do it. I'm with you."

"Thanks, Via. It means a lot."

"No, I mean, I'm coming with you," she said, rubbing the back of her neck, chuckling uncertainly. "If you went and confronted her on your own, she'd probably, uh, kill you. So, I'll be there to make sure she doesn't, or to slow her down while you run, at least."

Moonchild swallowed, suddenly not at all confident in his brilliant plan. "Should we, uh, bring Charlie, just in case?"

"Charlotte? Showing up unannounced on my parent's estate?" Octavia laughed out loud and rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "No, no, no, no. That would make things, like, so much worse. No, Moonie, you're right. If you're going to face this guy again, you can't have any dangling threads. When were you thinking?"

Moonchild rapped his fingers on the table, part of him wanted to put this off to some obscure, nebulous time in the future, but another, stronger part of him felt, no, knew that the sooner he ripped this bandaid off, the better he would be.

Or, at least, that was the closest justification he could put to this nameless dread building in his heart.

"After lunch?"

"So soon?" Octavia pondered this for a moment and nodded. "You don't waste any time, do you?"

"I'm a busy man," Moonchild said, his expression softening as he reached out and took her hand. "Thanks, Via. I wouldn't be half as brave without you in my corner."

She smiled and leaned in, planting a gentle kiss on his lips, one he returned enthusiastically. After a few moments it broke and the two of them sat back, hands still entwined, smiling serenely, a healthy flush burning in their disguise's cheeks. The other customers seated around practically sighed in unison.

"Eyyyy~" Came a voice. "Lookit the lovebirds!"

Moonchild turned to see a trio of somewhat thuggish-looking young men approaching them. They were dressed in outlandish outfits cobbled together from multiple different name-brand suits, held together with gold chains, silver metal fibers, and all manner of pin-on buttons. Moonchild recognized the swagger right away: gangsters.

'Is this what gangsters are wearing nowadays?' Moonchild thought to himself, before recalling the, er, lax dress-code he had overseen during his time with Passione. 'You know, I am in no position to judge.'

"Hey, Pinky. You havin' a good time out with your lady?" One of the toughs asked. He was a tall, muscular young man with a half-shaved head, his lower lip and eyebrow pierced, the two connected by a gold chain. He leaned in over Moonchild's shoulder, a low, unpleasant grin on his face. "What's a sfigata like you doin' with a classy gal like her, eh?"

"Drinking coffee, kissing, and barely tolerating uninvited guests."

He laughed and clapped Moonchild's shoulder, harder than what could possibly be considered friendly, but hardly painful to the disguised demon. "Hey! He may look like a total rottinculo, but Rosy here has snap! Hey, since you made me laugh, I won't feed you your teeth in front of your bitch."

Moonchild sipped his espresso. "How kind of you."

"Some cream for your coffee, amedeo." He leaned forward and hawked a loogie in Moonchild's coffee. "What say you fuck off so me and my friends show your gal a real nice time, eh?"

"It was going cold, anyway," Moonchild said, offhanded splashing the defiled espresso into the thug's lap.

"What the fuck!" He screamed, scrambling back. "Fuck! Hot hot hot!"

"Not that cold."

"You gonna let 'im get away with that, Granchio?" One of the others said.

"Bastardo! These were white silk Canalis!" He growled. "I'll–"

–Moonchild was standing now, bare inches away from him, glaring into his eyes. "You'll what?"

Granchio blinked in shock, the obvious questions clear in his eyes. When did he stand up? Did I blink or is he just that fast? Who is this guy? Moonchild smirked as the thug swallowed, now very aware of the odd, metallic taste in his mouth, the greasy, unpleasant quality the air had taken, the hairs on his neck and arm standing on end just as much from static as from alarm.

"Hey," said Octavia, resting her fine, pointed chin on her knuckles, a playful, predatory moue on her exquisite face. "If you fellows want to show me a good time, I'm the one you should be asking, not him."

Granchio blinked and smirked, stepping past Moonchild. "Cornuto. Well, I like a girl who knows what she wants. And that accent! Sexy as hell, babe!"

"As Hell," she intoned, amused. "Alright, big boy, how's this tickle you: beat me at arm wrestling and I'll be you and your buddies' gal for the night. Drinks are on me."

"Arm-wrestling? Heh!" He glanced at his bare, muscular arms. "I mean, why don't we just skip to the end and you bend over in the alley if you want it that bad?"

"I ordered my carbonara with shrimp, not chicken," she said, setting her elbow on the table with a challenging 'thunk'. "If you can't beat me at arm-wrestling, how're you supposed to show me a good time later?"

Granchio scowled for a moment but grinned and sat down, taking her slender, delicate hand in his, eclipsing it entirely. "You ladies sure love to play games, dontcha?"

"People always tell me not to play with my food," Octavia said, her smile now that rapacious, predatory smile that was her family's trademark. "But sometimes I just can't help myself. Three… two… one… go!"

Granchio's hand clasped around hers as he attempted to wrench her arm over, his smile vanishing when he noticed that not only was he unable to bend her arm over, he was unable to so much as budge it. It was like he was wrestling a bronze statue. He looked up and saw her expression was serene, unbothered, perhaps slightly amused. The muscles in his arms stood proud as he pushed with all his might, veins standing out on his head as he grit his teeth.

"Granchio, man, is this chick giving you some trouble?" One of his lackeys said, incredulous. "Want me to give you a hand?"

"Fuck off!" Granchio snarled. "Smile all you like, bitch! You're going down! Get Lucky!"

There was a flash and a burst of energy as a humanoid figure materialized next to Granchio. It was a somewhat crustacean-looking being with an extruding, lobster-like face and bulging spiky forearms.

"A Stand!" Moonchild exclaimed.

Get Lucky moved to assist its user when Octavia's hand flashed out, wrapping around its armored throat, squeezing. "Ah ah! No cheating!"

"What the hell?!" Granchio exclaimed. "You can see it? How are you touching it?!"

Octavia squeezed harder, the carapace began to crack and bow in, Granchio's own throat began to constrict. "I-impossible!"

Octavia stood up and hurled the man across the patio, sending him sprawling on an empty table. He looked up at her and Moonchild as he strode up beside her, rubbing his throat. "Who are you people? What are you?"

"Look at us with your Stand," Moonchild said, smirking. "See as as we are."

Granchio gasped in horror, before him were two massive, inhuman monsters. One some manner of fearsome eight-foot-tall humanoid raptor, the other a muscular red creature that brought to mind both elements of cephalopods and predatory fish. "Madre de dios! Lumache! Calamaro!"

"Contact!" Lumache cried, summoning slimy, mollusk-esque humanoid.

"Instant Crush!" Calamaro roared, revealing a tentacled mass on a mechanical tripod.

Moonchild and Octavia readied themselves to fight as the three Stand-users closed in when a strong, authoritative voice cut across the din. "You three! Stand down!"

The trio spun around to see an elderly gentleman with a bicycle, a very familiar old man.

"You," said Moonchild. "From the church."

"Bringing out your Stands to harass civilians!" The old man snarled. "We're in Sardinia on behalf of Passione, Don Giorno himself sent us, and you three shame his reputation with your thuggish behavior! Back to the motel, on the double!"

"B-but Signore Pazzi!" Granchio began to say, shutting up upon seeing the old man's glare. "Y-yessir. Right away, sir."

The three filed out, casting rueful, unsettled glances back at the pair as they did.

"Is it weird that I kinda dig her as a bird monster?" Calamaro murmured.

"Shut the fuck up, Calamaro…"

Once Signore Pazzi had spoken with the restaurant owners and had paid off the witnesses, Octavia and Moonchild found themselves sitting across a table from the old gentleman int he now-empty restaurant, it having closed for the rest of the day at his request.

"You must forgive my young cohorts," Signore Pazzi said, taking his seat. "They are good lads at heart, but their abilities have made them, well, cocky. Arrogant. It is the role of the elder to reign in the brashness and impetuousness of youth, direct that energy into something constructive."

"Thank you for stepping in," said Octavia. "That situation was escalating."

"Ah, signora," he said with a wink. "If anything, I should be thanking you. I suspect you two were going easy on my wards. Your restraint is much appreciated."

"Back there," said Moonchild. "You said you're here on behalf of Passione?"

"Yes, you've no doubt heard of it," he said, a wry smile on his face.

"You could say that," Moonchild murmured. "How's it doing nowadays?"

"Very well," Signore Pazzi said, grinning now. "It has almost eradicated the sale and distribution of drugs on the mainland, and human trafficking in Italy and the surrounding countries has dropped to almost zero. Violent crime is down, citizen safety is up."

"That's…" Moonchild paused, memories of all the horrors committed at his behest rushed to the fore, his brow creasing. "…Good. You mentioned a Don Giorno. That wouldn't be Giorno Giovanna, would it?"

Pazzi nodded. "The same. Don Giovanna now has designs on Sardinia. As the refugee crisis intensifies, he seeks to ease the suffering of all involved and keep predatory elements from exploiting the situation. If he is to do this, Sardinia must first ascent to a Passione presence. We are here on his behalf to make inroads with the local politicians and law enforcement. And… to meet you."

Moonchild blinked, surprised. "Me?"

Pazzi nodded once more. "It is good to see you again, Consigliere Doppio. The years, I see, have been exceedingly kind to you. Also…" He glanced over at Octavia, wry amusement on his face. "Bit young, isn't she?"

Moonchild cleared his throat and blushed. "W-well, I mean, uh, technically, but I you see, uh, well, mental age and, uh… it's complicated."

"Say no more," Pazzi said. "People in our position know better than to ask unnecessary questions. That you're with anyone at all is preferable to the alternative. I understand the other fellow was rather solitary."

Moonchild eyed up the apparently very familiar old man. "Have we met?"

"Ah, well, as some may age like wine, others such as myself age like, well," he gestured at his wizened features and smiled warmly. "We only met a few times, I was a but a messenger then. I'm not surprised you don't remember me."

"Wait…" He recalled. "Cacciatore Pazzi, your Stand is Bicycle, it allows you to traverse any terrain as though it were flat, solid ground."

Cacciatore smiled and nodded, summoning his Stand, an old-style 3-speed bicycle. "I've ridden over the Alps and across the Mediterranean! Not bad for an old man!"

"So all that stuff about knowing priest Naso was a lie?"

"I'm afraid so, I had no other way of figuring out who you were," he said, leaning back in his chair. "When you saw my bike, it was obvious. You are, or were, Vinegar Doppio."

"Your first name is 'Vinegar'?" Octavia said, stifling a laugh.

"How did you know I'd be there?"

"Don Giorno told me to swing by that old church at that exact time. He told me I'd find you there. He wanted me to make an assessment."

Moonchild's eyes narrowed. "An assessment? Of what?"

"That you were you, and not him," Pazzi said. "Don Giorno was aware the moment he was free of the Requiem. You were burying someone. Is he… gone?"

"No," Moonchild said, tapping his forehead. "But he's not hurting anyone else. Now, tell me, how did Giorno know I would be there of all places?"

"This, I cannot say," Pazzi said, shrugging. "But, it was made clear to me that Don Giorno was acting on outside advice."

"Outside advice?"

Pazzi nodded. "Who, he would not say. However, he did leave me with a message for you, on behalf of these third parties."

Moonchild leaned forward. "And that is…?"

Signore Pazzi leaned in too, his voice low and conspiratorial. "I do not know what it means, but Don Giorno, upon conferring with these third parties, told me to tell you when the time comes, do not take the Duke's offer."

Moonchild and Octavia exchanged glances, a worried crease forming in her brow. Signore Pazzi got to his feet and tipped his cap to them. "Well, if that will be all, it's about time I head out. Oh, and one more thing: while Don Giorno will no doubt be pleased to hear of your triumph over our old Boss, he bade me make this last point exceedingly clear: with your business here thus concluded, he sees no reason for you to ever return. Go back to where you came from, and stay there. Your earth-privileges have been revoked, demon."

Moonchild rose to his feet and nodded, extending his hand to him. "Tell Don Giorno I accept his terms, and that I have no reason to return. Goodbye, Signore Pazzi."

Pazzi took his hand and shook it, nodding at Octavia. "Signora."

He walked out through the foyer, the staff giving their respects as he passed. A shrill, unnatural sound sang from the other room, a flash of hellish light and that strange, magnetic sensation vanished along with its source.

'Demons… ha!' Pazzi thought to himself as he summoned his Stand. 'After all I've seen, life still has some surprises left for me. Suppose this means I should attend church more often… ah, speaking of…'

He hopped on his Stand and the world folded down flat like a pop-up book, the ground now a smooth, textureless surface. He rode onward at a leisurely pace, riding over buildings, walls, hills and dales as though they weren't there. Soon he was bridging valleys and fjording rivers, scaling whole mountain ranges as they were but pictures of themselves on the perfectly flat surface that was Bicycle's world. He breathed and sighed, the night air was fresh and clear, the smell of spring, he rolled to a stop, the world folding back into the third dimension as he dismounted: once more he was standing outside Naso's church. His eyes found the priest's grave, the disturbed earth next to it. By the time he'd been dispatched, Don Giorno had been in talks to have the church grounds reconsecrated and staffed. Naso's church would become the centerpiece of the most well-funded rehab clinic in all of Italy, healing the long, deep scars the drug trade had carved into the country's soul.

"Interesting times are coming," he said aloud. "Goodness, yes."

The hotel staff sat about as they waited for the pair to return. Vaggie smirked, counting her bills before stuffing them into her purse.

'Stand bullshit' indeed.

Angel sulked in the corner of the room, all arms crossed as he glared at the spot where the portal had vanished. "Fuckin' bullshit is what it is…"

"Figured you guys would have learned by now," Vaggie said, smiling openly. "By all means, keep betting. I have a new dress I'm saving up for."

"Not that!" Angel said, turning to Charlie. "Why couldn't I go ta Earth?! Ta Italy! Mama Mia, I would do things for a genuine spaghetti alla puttanesca from the home-country, Chuck! Unforgivable things!"

"That's exactly why I couldn't send you, Angel," Charlie said, rolling her eyes. "Besides, I think this was a, uh, personal matter."

"Funeral," said Husk.

"Hm?"

"He's gonna bury his human body in a place what meant somethin'," said Husk. "Don't happen much at all in Hell, but on Earth, it's like, this whole thing. For whatchamacallit, uh, closure. That's why we weren't invited, Chuck. Letting you and Angel loose on Earth woulda kinda spoiled the mood."

"Humans bury dead bodies?" Charlie said, perplexed.

"Terrible waste, really," Alastor said, examining his talons.

"The more you know~" Niffty sang.

All heads turned when the portal opened up and the pair stepped out, immediately discarding their human disguises. Moonchild looked preoccupied, distant, while Octavia watched him with peculiar interest. Something had happened on Earth, something that was gnawing at them.

"Moonie?" Charlie ventured, smiling. "How was your, er, funeral?"

"Hm." Moonchild grunted, turning to Octavia. "You ready?"

Octavia nodded, grimoire in hand. "Yep."

"Good, let's go," he said.

Octavia's hand glowed and another portal opened. The two walked through without saying another word.

"Hey, wait! I just…" Charlie called after them, tapering off when the portal closed. "Thought we could… okay, then."

Angel sighed happily and draped an arm across Charlie's shoulders. "Ahh… they grow up so fast, don't they?"

"Hard to believe that's the same kid what tried to give yer boots a lick, eh Chuck?" Husk said, amused. He arced an eyebrow and glanced over at her when she didn't respond. "Chuck?"

"Something's wrong…" Charlie said, feeling a chill race up her spine.

The staff milled about the estate, seeing that every part of it meet the standards of the esteemed demons that dwell within in its walls. They were imps, but they were proud. To work on such an illustrious estate and for such powerful, respectable demons, for royalty, was itself a privilege. The pay was good, too.

Recently, though, there had been something of an upset. None of them could say for sure, but it was almost certainly related to the Prince's indiscretions with a member of their ilk. An imp, not staff, gracious no! Had one of their number been seduced by His Lordship, Her Ladyship would have had them all executed! Luckily, it was merely some rogue from the city, a vulgar creature for which the staff had little patience. Her Ladyship's mood was generally poor at this time of month, when he husband's scheduled debauchery was waxing or waning, but recently her mood had soured beyond the usual snappishness and thrown plant. She had exiled the dour but sweet-natured Princess, and was now stewing in her study, a tall glass of red wine in her talons.

She drained the glass and held out the glass. A serious, moustachioed imp by the name of Pringle stepped forward soundlessly and filled her glass.

"Thank you, Pringle," she said, sipping the deep, dark red.

Pringle said nothing, it wasn't his place to address Her Ladyship, instead he nodded and stepped back, waiting to refill her glass which, from the looks of things, would be any minute now. He turned to see Francois, who announced his presence with a click of his heels as he bowed.

"My Lady," he said. "His Excellency Grand Duke Sallos has dropped by for a visit."

"Thank you, Francois." Stella got to her feet and turned around, heading for the door, not looking at the imp servant. "Pringle, His Excellency enjoys white wine, check the cellar for a good vintage. Something dry with a delicate bouquet."

"By your command, My Lady."

Stella walked into the lobby, seeing the massive frame of her beloved cousin looming over one of Stolas' hideous plants. He turned to see her, his expression hangdog, the flames on his brow low and weak.

"Stella," he said, his face saying everything he didn't.

No.

No no no.

"Sally!" She cheered, throwing her arms wide. "How good to see you! Oh, darling, we never seem to have time to catch up! Come in, come in!"

"Stella…"

She turned away from him and beckoned him to follow. "Oh, but you must try this exquisite Moselle we have on hand. It's dry, but sweet and tart and–"

He reached out and set a massive hand on her shoulder. "Stella."

She did not turn to face him, her hands trembling at her side, her eyes wide and harrowed. "Let's have it then."

Sallos reached into his breast pocket and produced a scroll, the Decree, and handed it to her. She took it and unrolled it, the quiet, dry rustling of the parchment echoed in the crypt-silence of the grand estate's foyer. Second by agonizing second of silence passed as she read, Sallos' features tightening, his teeth grinding together in his mighty jaw as his cousin digested the information.

"Oh," she said, her tone calm and reserved as she rolled the scroll back up. "Is that all? I was worried for a moment there."

She turned back to him, her mien stoic, placid, she handed the Decree to Sallos. "I volunteer, of course."

Sallos blinked, even his composure cracked. "What?"

"I volunteer," Stella said, airily. "That's why you're here, isn't it?"

Sallos sighed and shook his head, Stella darted forward, jabbing her talon in his face. "What? What! I satisfy the Decree, don't I?! I'm a family member, and while our home-life has admittedly been a little rocky, I'm sure that he must… he must feel something for me… After all these years there has to be something there!"

"Oh, God, Starlight…" Sallos said as he set a hand on her shoulder, his voice a low whisper. "I'm so sorry…"

"Don't touch me, you butcher!" Stella snarled, swatting his hand away, tears welling up in her eyes. "You're just like the rest of them! You're all just wringing your hands, relishing my misery!"

Sallos recoiled as though struck. "Starlight, that's not true!"

"Oh, cut the shit!" She roared. "You all had a good laugh at my expense when my degenerate husband humiliated me with that thing! Sneering and laughing behind my back! But why stop there? Why stop at simple humiliation? You already took my pride, why not my joy, too?!"

Sallos said nothing, his eyes downcast to the floor. Stella balled his fists at her side, her talons digging into her palms, causing blood to drip onto the floor. Tears were pouring down her cheeks now. "Why is this happening? What did I ever do to deserve this? My husband hates me… my friends shun me… and now, and-and now you're taking my baby away from me. My baby girl! What did I do that was so bad that I can't even be punished for it? Why does Octavia have to-to-to–"

Sallos reached out and took her in his arms, pulling her into a tight hug. Stella resisted for a moment before latching onto him, sobbing into his chest. "This has nothing to do with you, Starlight. It's not your fault."

"That just makes it worse," she said. "If I had done something, upset Lucifer in some way, I could stand it. But everything I haven't already lost is being taken from me. I can't even give my life for my own child!"

"Th-this is all my fault." Sallos bit back a sob and stroked the back of her head, smoothing out her feathers. "I knew you and La-La were unhappy, I knew where it would lead, but I didn't do anything! I-I kept waiting, and waiting, and waiting for… I don't know, waiting for you two to sort it out or come to me for help."

Stella shook her head, stepping back from him, her eyes still wet with tears. "Sally, no!"

"It's what I do!" Sallos exclaimed, jabbing at his chest. "Lucifer selected me to be peacekeeper because I can promote unity, love! It's pretty much all the mortals call me up for! I saw the signs, I knew exactly how to help, but I didn't! Damn me! The second Via was born I should have taken you both aside and helped you hammer out an understanding. That's no environment in which to raise a child! I-if I had, maybe all this never would have happened! If I had, I wouldn't have to-to… Oh, God, I'm so sorry, Starlight!"

Sallos turned away from her, his hand to his face. Stella's eyes narrowed; his back was turned, his guard was down. Was she fast enough? Strong enough? If she could summon a portal without him noticing, grab her Seraphic rapier…

"Don't try it," he said, not turning around. "I must do my duty. And if I have to kill you too, I will."

"Sally…"

"I'd try and kill me, too," he said, facing her, his expression now set, deadly, bereft of any emotion save for adamantine determination. "And I wouldn't hold a grudge if you did. Where is she Stella? Where is Octavia?"

Stella turned away from him, arms crossed. "I don't know."

He was on her in a second, grabbing her roughly by the shoulders, glaring down at her. "Stella!"

"It's true," she said, her expression stoic and cavalier, despite the still-wet trails down her cheeks. "She got it into her head that I was misusing her favorite peasant. I told her to take a break and come back when she had her head on straight. That was a few days ago, now."

"Which peasant?" Sallos growled, squeezing her shoulders. "Stella, I know you have no reason to help me, but if you care about Octavia, you will. Do you have any idea what will happen to her if one of Stolas' enemies gets ahold of her first? The Nephilim, Decarabria, Bathin, Morax? I'll at least make it quick, but them…"

Stella didn't look at him, her expression detached, unbothered despite his blunt fingers digging into her shoulders.

"Stella, please!"

"Uncle Sally?"

Their eyes snapped open wide as they spun around to see Octavia standing in the doorway, a confused, worried look on her face. "What's going on?"

The portal opened with a shrill, keening cry. Moonchild stepped through and automatically felt his heart skip a beat. Her perfume hung in the air, a warm and low floral scent, and beneath that was her natural scent, tangy and sharp.

Images flashed in his mind, feelings of fear, helplessness. Her hard, steely talons raking down his bare flesh, superficial wounds compared to what she could have done with all her strength.

"Moonie?" Octavia said, her hand settling on his shoulder.

He jumped at the touch of her long, taloned hand, the familiar shape of it added a hideous rush of realism to his memorializing. He spun around to face her, faltering upon seeing her surprised expression.

"Sorry, Via," he said, smiling wanly. "Guess I'm a little jumpy."

Octavia smile and nodded. "I understand. Hey, if you're not feeling up to this…"

"No, no…" He said, taking her hand in his. "How about you? How do you feel about this?"

"This isn't about me, but…" She saw his questioning expression and heaved a sigh. "What Mum did to you was… awful, and you have every right to confront her about it, for your own sake. But I think it'd be good to give her a chance to show you she's, well, she's not how you think she is."

"While you stop her from killing me," he said, flatly.

"I'm just here as a precaution!" She said, relenting. "Look, I'm not asking you to forgive her or anything, just to have an open mind. Royals are expected to behave a certain way, there is immense pressure all around to uphold this absurd front of cruelty and confidence. What Dad did to her… hurt her. Humiliated her. She's a proud woman. It doesn't excuse what she did to you, and you have every right to hate her, but she's my Mum, and I–"

Moonchild reached out and set his hand over hers. "Via. I know how hard this is for you. To know someone you love has done such horrible things."

"You do?"

Moonchild nodded and tapped his head. "For the longest time, he was my only friend. Anytime I felt scared or uncertain, I would think 'what would Boss do?' Or he'd call me up and reassure me. He always seemed so strong and confident, how everyone was afraid of him, how everyone respected him and, by extension, me. It was hard not to look up to him. But now I know what he did, the people he killed, the lives he ruined… but I still can't forget the good times, how he made me feel safe. If I want to get better, I have to forgive him and help him. And if I can do that with him, I can at least try with your mother."

Octavia smiled and nodded. "Thanks, Moonie."

She led him through the elaborate, lavishly decorated mansion. This was the ancestral estate of Stolas' family, its construction dating back to near The Fall. As such, all the walls were festoon with murals and tapestries depicting a far younger and more vainglorious Demon Prince and Princess. Together and separately they were featured in art, leading glorious wars of conquest against the native hellborn, whose mongrelized descendants now populated every ring as imps, hellhounds, succubi, and incubi. Moonchild found himself pondering just what in the intervening eons had transformed His Lord from a proud and vicious Fallen Erelim to a debauched, flouncing fop.

Best not to ponder such things, since he was about to give the man's significantly more traditional demon wife a dressing down.

An enchanted, moving portrait depicted Stella, clad head to toe in resplendent angelic armor with a fabulous flowing cape made from the furry hides of hellhounds. She was surrounded by thousands of gnashing, armed proto-imps. A flourish and a riposte of her rapier eviscerated nearby scores of the disheveled creatures and, with a full rotation of her owl head, her glowing eyes petrified the entire army. A simple flex of her mighty aura sent an explosive shockwave ripping through the legions of statues, reducing them all to dust.

Suddenly he felt a lot less confident.

"Ugh, these decorations are so tacky," scoffed Octavia. "And inaccurate."

"Oh? How so?"

She pointed at the painting depicting the 'battle'. "This right here. She's way too clean. She'd have been covered in blood."

"O-oh."

"Hey," Octavia said, rubbing his back reassuringly. "I'm here. You're safe."

They made their way down the hall when Octavia stopped, cocking her head to the side. "Someone's here. In the next room, with Mum."

Octavia let go of his hand and rushed down the hall, heedless of his calls, turning the corner, her eyes snapping open wide. "Uncle Sally?"

In the foyer stood two demons, Princess Stella and, looming over her was Grand Duke Sallos. Stella looked as though her whole world had just come crashing down, horror and grief clear on her face. Sallos, on the other hand, wore an expression she'd never seen before. It was low, subtle, but there was something distinctly off about her beloved uncle.

"Via?" Stella said, her voice hoarse.

"Octavia," Sallos said, letting her mother go and standing up straight. "I was just asking after you."

"I've been out…" Octavia said, slowly, cautiously, stepping back. "What's going on?"

"Via, there's been a new development," Sallos said, starting toward her. "I'm going to need you to come with me."

"Mum?" Octavia said, glancing desperately at her mother.

Stella stepped ahead of Sallos, a huge, forced smile on her face. "Oh, Via! You've come back! I was so worried, sweetie! Where have you been?"

"I've… been with Moonie," Octavia said, glancing at the stony, reserved face of her uncle. "At Charlotte's hotel. He's trying to redeem himself. What's going on?"

"We can discuss that at my place," Sallos said, gently but firmly pushing Stella out of his way, he extended his hand to her. "Come along now."

"Uh…" Octavia said, backing away, a chill racing up her spine as her uncle loomed over her, his sheer size no longer comforting, protective, but ominous and threatening. "If it's all the same to you, I, uh, I-I think I'd rather head back there, with Moonchild."

"The secretary?" Sallos said, an intrigued lilt in his voice, a flaming brow arched. "Ah, yes. I remember him. Why, he can come with us, Via. I should very much like to speak with him. Now, please, come with me, poppet."

Octavia's eyes widened as it clicked, the total lack of warmth in her uncle's eyes and voice, the sternness in his posture and expression: he was on duty, and he was here for her.

"Octavia! Who is it? Who's here–" Came a voice from down the hall, a tall, athletic sea-demon turned the corner, freezing upon seeing Sallos. "Oh. Uh. Greetings, My Lo–Your Excellency! Greetings, Your Excellency!"

Sallos blinked in surprise upon seeing Moonchild. "Moonchild? You've chang–"

A buzzing shriek tore through the air, filling the room with red light. Sallos froze in place, turning to stone in an instant. Cracks were already starting to form on its surface.

"Mum?!" Octavia exclaimed. "What–?"

Stella streaked out from behind the huge statue and grabbed both of their wrists, pulling them after her down the hall at full speed. "Run, Via! Come on!"

"Mum, what's going on?!" Octavia said as she struggled to keep up.

Stella's eyes glowed as she located where Octavia had portaled in. "You've been marked for death by the Decree. Sallos will execute you if he gets ahold of you."

"What?!" Octavia exclaimed, wresting her wrist from Stella's grip. "Uncle Sally–"

"Uncle Sally is Lucifer's dog!" Stella said, turning around to face her daughter. "He loves you dearly, but all that means is that he'll be sobbing as he chops off your head! You have to run!"

"Run? Octavia said, bewildered and panicked. "From Uncle Sally? Run where?!"

"Go to Charlotte's," said Stella, summoning her personal grimoire and handing it to her frightened daughter. "Go to Charlotte's and ask for sanctuary. She's the only one in Hell who can protect you now."

"But–!"

A terrific explosion tore through the palace, shaking it to its foundations. A deep, unearthly roared echoed in the halls and souls of those present. "S̺̋͗͢Ṱ͇̬̯̮̭ͣ͗ͦ͌ͬ́͡ȄE̶̦̝͕̘͌́ͅͅE̟̘͈͗̈́̍ͦͪ̏͆L̫̀͗̊ͯ̿ͯ̋͠L̥̖̲̇͐L͕̦̗̬͖̍ͦͬ̆̚A̩͙͂͗͂͜A̡̻̖A̴͓̓͊̈ͩ̄!̸̦̞̬̱̦̝͛̉̒ͪ̆!̛̫̖͚"

"I'll hold him off!" Stella said, stepping out in front of the two demons. "Get out of here now, Via!"

Octavia opened her mouth to protest when Stella spun around and pulled her into a tender embrace. "My little girl… I'm sorry for everything I said before, I didn't mean it. I love you more than anything in all the Four Planes, and I'll do anything I can to keep you safe. Go, now. Please."

Tears poured down Octavia's face as she looked up at her mother, the palace shaking as a searing red light encroached down the hallway. "Mum, no, please! Come with us!"

Stella wiped her tears away with one hand and opened the portal with another. With a flick of her wrist, she sent the smaller demon hurtling through the air and into the portal. She turned to Moonchild, her expression a mixture of sadness and shame.

"Moonchild, I… I didn't–" She shook her head, her expression hardening. "Nevermind. Curse me. Hate me. I deserve it. Just, please, look after her."

Moonchild opened his mouth to respond when the palace shook again, the Duke's awesome demonic might electrifying the air. He turned back to her and nodded before jumping through the portal.

Stella turned back to face the rapidly approaching mass of pure Hell-energy. "Please be safe, Via."

"Mum!" Octavia cried, running for the portal, the image of the palace now replaced with glowing ribbons of demonic energy and debris as the Demon Royals battled.

Moonchild swept in and held her, restraining her. "Via, no!"

"Let me go!" Octavia screamed, struggling. "We have to help her!"

Moonchild grit his teeth as he summoned all his not-inconsiderable strength, just barely restraining the princess. "We can't help her! Close the portal before he gets through!"

Octavia sobbed and squeezed her eyes shut, waving her hand. The portal shrank, almost winking out of existence when a huge pair of hands reached in, wrenching the rip in reality open wider. Sallos widened the resisting vortex, partially fitting his massive shoulders through. He looked up at Octavia, a quartet of bleeding slashes across his left eye, his lip bleeding.

"Via!" He bellowed. "Come with me now! Don't make this harder than it needs to be!"

"Fuck you!" Moonchild bellowed, enraged. "I won't let you hurt her!"

He lunged forward and unleashed a furious rush of punches on the Duke's face, fists hammering the demon with machine gun speed. Moonchild recoiled in shock when the Duke, quite unharmed, locked him with a blazing glare.

"Do you mind?" Sallos said, his fist smashing into Moonchild's abdomen an instant later. "This is a family matter."

Moonchild vomited a huge spurt of dark green blood as he flew across the room at meteoric speed, smashing gaping holes through multiple walls. Sallos grunted as he forced the portal open wider, almost enough to fit.

"Moonchild!" Octavia cried, recoiling away as her uncle pulled more of himself through.

Charlie, Vaggie, Alastor and Husk charged into the room, stopping dead upon seeing the Duke as he clawed his way out of the collapsing portal.

"What's going on here?!" Charlie exclaimed, turning to Octavia. "Octavia! What–?"

Octavia spun around to look at Charlie, her eyes wide and terrified. "Sanctuary!"

Charlie blinked in surprise before her features hardened, her brow furrowed as her hands balled into fists. "Grand Duke Sallos."

Sallos blinked, his flaming brows waning for a moment. "Shit."

Charlie set off towards him, her hair flowing upward, glowing like fire as her aura flared to life, her voice a splitting peal of demonic tones.

"Yͨo͗̔͗͛uͧ̓ͥ̽ͮ ̽̈̾ͣͪā̀̄̽ͪ̚rè̽̆̇͂̀ t̆ͦͦ̊r̍̒̔̎ͧ͑eͭ̉́̄ͫ̏͊sͣͭ̎pa͊ss͛͐ïn̿͋̾̆̇̔̚g̐͒͂̋̍̒.̆͂̍͌ͥ R͗̾ͧ͊͑eͯͨ̊̾͐ͧ̚mͯ̊ͯ̈́̂̅o̔̒͐veͯ́͊ͩ͆ ͯ̐͆ͨͪ̽̆ỹ͑̄oǜ̌ȑ̂͋͛̑ͨͯs͂̄͑̐͐ͦ̉ĕlͦ̾ͤfͯ͛͆͐̿ͮ̚ ͊̇̐̑̋ͩ́f͐͋ͮͪrͦͤỏm ̐͗t̑h̃ͫ͌̾̓ė͒͋ ͑͗p̂̅ͤr̃̑̔ͭ͊͒͐e̋͑̀̋mi̿̽̄̉̄ͩs̃͛͗̇̑̚eͬ̄̇̽̎̾̆s̓ͮ͊͒ ͨ́ͧ̏immͮ̎͊ͧͧͯͪẽ͛ͣd͛ͭͣͫ̆̚ǐ̃͊̉ͮ̚̚a̓ͬ̔̂ͥͯteͥ̓͑̿͒̚lͪ̍ÿ ̋̏ͧo̓͂ͩ̍ͮr̅̔̔ yͬ̏ͪ͛ouͦ̉͌̑ͣ ̒̀w̎̇ͨ̉̒͑iͩ͋̇̑lͪ͊ͧͬl̐̏ ̽̊̐͑ͪ̔̔bͫ͗̅͐e̅͒ͮͥͯ̔ ̔ͩ͐ͤͥ́͂ŕ̃̂̽e̒ͨͭ̄͂̈́m̄͑ͮ̒̏ͧoͬ̑ͧ͐ͥ̿͗veͮͧͥd̎͗.ͫ̊"

"Your Highness," Sallos growled, his eyebrows reigniting. "I am acting upon a Decree issued by your fath–URK!"

A small, pale fist smashed into the Duke's enormous face. His proud, raptorious nose crumpled with a muted crunch. The huge demon was sent flying backwards at tremendous speed, the portal snapping shut with a flash.

"Oh my~" Alastor said, mock-swooning as he fanned himself.

"I don't have a 'fathurk'," Charlie muttered, shaking out her stinging hand before turning back to where Octavia was. "Well, now I've done it. Octavia, care to explain what's–Octavia?"
Charlie walked over to the hole in the wall, peering through it and seeing the owl princess hurriedly digging through debris a few rooms away. "Moonie? Moonie!"

A thick groan sounded as a hand reached up from the rubble. "V-Via?"

"Moonie!" She cried, pulling the battered demon free of the rubble. "Are you okay?"

"No," he said, raggedly, wiping the blood off his chin. "But I'll live. How about you?"

She shot him a wan, withering glare and he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Heh-heh… stupid question."

"Moonie!" Husk exclaimed, rushing over to him. "Kid! You okay?"

"What the fuck was that all about?!" Vaggie cried, aghast at the holes in the walls. "Why do you assholes keep trashing the place?!"

"Octavia," Charlie said, her tone stern. "What's going on?"

Octavia sighed, cradling a dazed Moonchild in her arms. "It's a long story. I'm sorry, this is all my fault."

"Hey. Get up." Charlie reached out to her, a gentle smile on her face. "Long stories need cocoa."