Chapter 21: Daimon

The room was dark. The bed creaked as they fell atop it. Hands wandered, explored, breathing grew heavy, wanting. Need suffused the air, scents mingling as they went.

"Ah, Moonie…"

"Via, I…"

Hands fumbled with belts and zippers, latches and buttons were undone with passioned abandon. Hands searched, found what they sought, their pants and gasps and breathless encouragements drowned out by the heady drubbing of their hearts in their ears. Warmth blossomed, crested, surged and… and… the spell broke.

Moonchild growled in frustration, kicking his legs over the side of the bed, his head in his hands, his breathing ragged. "God… damnit!"

"Moonie…" Octavia sat up, reaching out for his rippling should. "It's okay."

"Via, I–This never happens, I can usually–" He said, his voice strangely choked. "Why can't I–?!"

"Moonie, it's fine," she cooed, pressing herself against his back. "This was a lot all at once. I pushed things too far, too fast. Let's take it slow, okay?"

"I don't want to take it slow!" Moonchild cried, getting to his feet, illuminated by the lurid red light of the city as it poured in through the window. "It has to be tonight! T-tomorrow, we'll be… I'm so sorry, Via! I wanted to do this one little thing for you and this happens!"

She saw the tears of frustration and shame spilling down his cheeks, Octavia reached up and grabbed his wrist, pulling him back down to the bed and into a warm embrace, her head on his shoulder as she whispered: "It's okay… All I need is you here with me. Stay with me, Moonie… please?"

Moonchild returned the embrace, casting an arm over her shoulder, resting his cheek atop her head. "Why can't I…? Why now, when I'm with the woman I love? Why not–"

He cut himself off, exhaling in a hissing growl. She could hear his heartbeat spike as what he was going to say rang loud and clear in his mind: 'Why didn't this happen with her? Why not then? She might have left me alone if it did!'

Octavia wrapped her arms around his chest and squeezed. "You're with me now, that's all that matters. Come on, it's not the end of the world."

"But–"

"Shh…" Octavia soothed, stroking his chest. "We could have five minutes before the armies of Heaven break down the door, but if I'm with you for that five minutes, it's all the time I need."

"Via…"

She scooted back on the bed, arms still wrapped around him. She guided him down to the soft linens, their heads on the pillow, her chest against his back. They were silent, the only sounds the ambiance of the chaos outside. She pressed her ear against his back, the beat of his heart a fast, hard, angry beat.

"This isn't going to work out."

She felt him deflate, shy away. "It's not?"

"No," she said as she clambered over him, pressing her rump into his lap and her head under his chin. "I'm a shit big spoon."

A beat passed before Moonchild loosed a hearty, genuine chuckle, gingerly wrapping his arm around her. "You're the best, Via."

"I know." She swiveled her head all the way around and kissed his jaw. "Now, get some sleep."

Moonchild craned his head down and kissed her tenderly. "Okay."

She lay awake for some time. How long, exactly, she couldn't say. Nor did she particularly care. She wiled away the morning hours, listening to Moonchild breathe. He'd drifted off to sleep some time before and was now snoring softly in her ear.

'Not how I was expecting my last night alive to go,' she thought to herself before smiling. 'But good, anyway. I wish we could just stay like this forever…'

She sighed contentedly and nestled into him, relishing his warmth.

'Shit… I have to pee.'

Gingerly, with the careful motions of a predator on the hunt, she extricated herself from Moonchild's embrace. Once free, she shuffled off the bed and strode across the dark room, her strigiform eyes parsing the darkness with ease. A brief liaise with toilet later and she was looking at herself in the mirror: nothing had changed, her head was still on her shoulders, something her uncle was in an apparent hurry to change. She accepted this revelation with queer sort of blandness. Part of her expected the fear to ramp up as time went on, the anxiety and stress slowly building until she went mad! But no, tomorrow held two possibilities: either she died, or she didn't. The simple options were almost comforting.

After three tall glasses of water, she began to feel the late-stages of her brief foray into alcoholism start to lift. She was hardly of the constitution to succumb to anything like a hangover, but the latent fuzziness that accompanied shaking off a strong drink was still unpleasant.

She strode back out into the room, stretching as she yawned. Something shifted in the darkness out corner of her eye. She turned to see… nothing. Octavia sighed and rubbed her eyes, turning around to see Moonchild standing before the balcony window, naked as a jaybird, in his hand a coin. He flipped it in the air and caught it, slapping it down on his forearm. He examined the results, and did it again.

"Oh!" She started. "Moonie, hey. Sorry if I woke you."

Moonchild snored and stirred in the bed, rolling onto his back. Octavia looked back to the figure standing before the window. He turned and looked over his shoulder, locking her with an emerald gaze.

"Oh." Octavia crossed her arms and shook her head. "It's you."

He said nothing and flipped the coin. This time, he didn't catch it, instead allowing it to clatter on the hardwood floor. The coin bounced and clacked from side to side before, incredibly, landing on its side.

He looked up from the coin, something like triumph in his eyes. "Very well."

He turned around to face her fully. Octavia blushed and looked off into the space over his shoulder, the part of her that was more and more speaking with her father's voice piped up, a brief lurid idea flashing across her mind: 'Gee Bill…'

Those green eyes darted down. "Apologies."

Clothing shimmered into existence over his frame. "I am decent, now."

"Might be overselling it," Octavia said, covering herself. "Also, eyes up until I find a robe or something."

"Unnecessary," he said. "I do not find you titillating in the least. In fact, I find you to be slightly horrifying."

That stung. "Has anyone ever told you that you need to work on your small talk?"

"No insult intended. Until recently I was an adult man with human sensibilities. You are an eight foot tall predatory demonic raptor with the mind of a teenage girl. My discomfort with you is justified," he said, looking around, a bathrobe appearing in his hands an instant later, throwing it to her. "Here. If it will make you more comfortable."

Octavia snatched it out of the air and put it on. "Alright, the monster is decent now. So, uh, what's… up?"

"I am," he said, his tone flat. "The experiment is ongoing."

"Experiment?"

Diavolo gestured at the sleeping Moonchild, his expression almost fond. "When he is asleep, I am more myself."

"What do you mean?" Octavia said, sitting down.

Diavolo looked at her, there was something frustrated and angry in the look, though she didn't sense it was directed at her, at least, no completely. "Earlier tonight, when I let myself out. I was free, I was separate from him, not bound to his will. He was not in my head, nor was I in his. We were independent."

"As opposed to now?"

He nodded. "I can feel him. Sense him. We are distinct and clear from one another. When he is awake, however, we are not. The line between us grows thin. Blurry. Tonight I… mingled. I played games, I teased… I flirted. I even felt regret about spilling that drunken lout's swill and endeavored to correct the situation." He smiled at this, it was a horrid, ghoulish smile. "Not to say the experience was without merit, for I did correct the situation. A solution that would not have occurred to me as I am now."

"I don't follow."

"When Moonchild took my memories, my trauma, into himself he also put a part of himself into me, an anchor of sorts. I became more like him as a consequence, more personable. It was disturbing, but also invigorating. A new point of view. New… ideas. Considerations that seem alien to me now, but nonetheless bore fruit. I have a blindness to me, I see that now, a blindness I could not see before tonight. The wonders of a fresh perspective."

Octavia eyed him up, not sure what to make of this thing's ramblings, but quite sure she didn't want to hear to any more. She got up and headed over to the bed and the slumbering Moonchild within. "Right. Okay, well… could you please switch off or something? I have a big day tomorrow and I need my sleep."

"He loves you." Diavolo strode through the furniture and leaned over her shoulder, whispering in her ear. "Loves you as he loved her."

Octavia recoiled in disgust, swirling about on the specter. "What does a monster like you know about love?!"

"Enough. By way of 'for instance'…" His hand flashed out in a chop, the air around it flaring with heat and light. Octavia flinched and braced for impact, only opening her eyes after a moment had passed. The hand was bare inches from her neck, positioned as though to cleave her head from her shoulders. "See that? I cannot harm you, though I should very much like to. If Moonchild dies, so do I, so it would only make sense for me to behead you and offer that to your uncle when he shows up tomorrow. Yet, I cannot. The only time he's been able to control me, to stop me, is when someone he loves is in danger. First his mother, for some reason, then his precious Donatella, and now you. It's been a troublesome pattern, to say the least."

Octavia panted, her eyes wide. "What do you want?"

Diavolo drew his hand back, resting his cheek on it as he eyed her up. "I want to live."

"Me too," Octavia said, quietly.

"Yes, well," Diavolo scoffed, phasing through her to kneel next to the bed, examining Moonchild. "Not much anyone can do about that, now, is there? But us? We have a wonderful journey ahead of ourselves. I am diminished without him, I can see that now too, and without me he cannot fully become whole. We are on the cusp of a great breakthrough, he and I. With Charlotte's help, he could become the man he was always meant to be. He may even, one day, be able to trust the people he loves."

"What do you mean?"

Diavolo rose to his feet, a look of honest confusion on his face. "Well, you should know. Rather ruined your evening, I should think."

Octavia stepped back, shaking her head. "No… he was–"

"Come now." Diavolo leveled a patient, almost affectionate look at her, shaking his head gently. "You remind him far too much of her for that sort of thing. Your voice. Your scent. Your talons. Such memories, such feelings of terror and self-loathing. He couldn't hold them down, not while he was also managing my trauma."

Octavia's eyes went wide. "No…"

"Oh, but he loves you, child," said Diavolo, running a gentle hand over Moonchild's head. "He loves you so much. So much, he was willing to relive those memories if it meant pleasing you. He loves you so, so much, but in the end he doesn't trust you. Doesn't trust you to not hurt him."

"I-I would never," Octavia muttered, staring at the floor, her fists balled at her sides. "I'd never hurt him! N-not on purpose…"

"I believe you." Diavolo said, folding his arms across his chest. "Not on purpose. Your mother didn't think she was hurting him, either. Just a bit of rough play, a harmless jab at her husband, all in good fun. Pretty little Moonchild never said no, and always seemed so eager, so desperate to please. You know, on some level I think she wanted something more from it, a taboo whirlwind romance with an inferior, the kind of fling that was making your father so happy. She had no idea what she was making him endure."

"Shut up…"

"And along comes Octavia," he hissed, getting closer. "Sweet, kind Octavia. Beloved Octavia. Octavia who thinks he can't see her ogling. Thinks he can't see that predatory stare. 'How long?' He thinks. 'How long until the talons come out? How long until she takes what she wants?' Oh, he'd never admit it, but those thoughts were always there, always waiting, always scared."

"Shut up." Octavia growled.

"He'll die, you know," said Diavolo, his expression flat. "Trying to protect you. They all will. Moonchild, his friends, Charlotte's dream. All of it, dust."

"Shut up!" She screamed, tears spilling down her face, flexing her talons.

At no one.

The room was empty once more.

Octavia glanced over at Moonchild, who was still snoring away in the large, comfortable bed, an oddly content look on his face. She sighed heavily, casting one last longing look at her lover before setting off for the foot of the bed, where her clothing lay in a pile. She sifted through the discarded clothing and produced her Hellphone, steeling herself as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

Charlie's eyes fluttered open, groaning as the light stung her eyes. She sat up in bed, stretching her arms over her head as she yawned, scratching herself the morning light glinting off her bare alabaster skin in a serene glow. Charlie inhaled deeply, smelling bacon and coffee on the air, Niffty must have gotten up early to make breakfast. Soft snoring drew her attention to the lump in the bed beside her, Vaggie was still fast asleep, and while Charlie had gotten her on a steady diet of water and a few shots of pickle juice the night before, she didn't doubt that her one-eyed lover would be more than a little fuzzy this morning. But that's what coffee and bacon are for!

"Wake up, sleepyhead~" Charlie cooed, jostling the snoring lump. "Time for breakfa~st!"

"Mrmph…" Vaggie grumbled, pulling the covers even more over her. "Yoo go."

"Now, now, Vaggie. The Hotel needs its administrator," Charlie said, poking what she assumed was her head. "Up up up!"

"Leeme 'lone."

"Uh oh…" Charlie said, smiling, slipping under the covers. "Sounds like we've got a bedbug infestation…"

"Charlie, no."

"And the only thing that gets rid of bedbugs is…" Charlie dove under the covers. "Raspberries!"

Vaggie yelped as Charlie's full, black lips pressed against her bare buttock and blew, producing a loud raspberry.

Vaggie thrashed about under the sheets as she tried in vain to escape, Charlie effortlessly holding her down as she pressed her lips against the grey demon's toned, supple belly and blew.

"Charlie! Stoppit!" Vaggie giggled, her limbs flailing. "Stop! I mean it!"

Warm lips planted tender kisses from her belly and up the middle of her chest. "Stop?"

Vaggie gasped as Charlie traced her collar bone up to her neck with light kisses. "F-fuck…"

Charlie smirked as she peppered her jaw and cheeks with kisses. "Stop?"

"Don't tease me!"

"Stop?"

"Charlie!"

Their lips met, their bodies writhed, hands intertwined as they wrestled beneath the covers.

"Shouldn't we be going?" Vaggie husked, her eye burning with lust, her grey skin flush with hot blood. "For breakfast?"

"Niffty'll keep a few plates warm for us." Charlie's head drifted under the covers, her eyes glowing red in the darkness of the sheets. "Or she's fired."

"Okay…" Vaggie shuddered before gasping sharply, her back arching. "Ooh! Ch-Charlie!"

Husk sipped his coffee as he lined up a forkful of eggs and bacon. He glanced across the table at Angel, who was sitting between Razzle and Dazzle, pouring booze into his coffee. Angel noticed the glance and smiled, winking back at him and licking his lips. Husk grumbled and turned away.

'If I weren't gonna die today, I'd probably live to regret last night,' Husk thought himself, allowing himself a smirk from behind his mug. 'Whatever. I've woken up next to worse…'

Niffty topped up his mug and pecked him on the cheek, fluttering her eye at him.

'Now that one I'm already regrettin'…'

"Chipper today, eh bug?" Husk said as Niffty set a plate of flapjacks in front of Angel and the Goats.

"I guess you could say I had a few wrinkles ironed out~" she said, giving Angel a peck on the cheek as well.

"Ha!" Angel said, slapping her rump. "That's one way to put it! Glad we showed ya a good time, Blinky."

"Hm?" Niffty cocked her head before realizing. "Oh! Yeah, that was fun too, I guess."

Husk laughed out loud at Angel's affronted expression. "Oh, don't pout, hooer, the two of us just don't stack up to Big Bad D."

"Alls he did was choke ya and give ya a kiss!" Angel said, outraged. "Any tamer and he'd be runnin' a fuckin' orphanage!"

"The voice, the confidence, the grip…" Niffty sighed and flushed red.

"Hey, not around the food!" Husk growled.

An encroaching conversation drew their attention to the hall way as Vaggie and Charlie entered the room. "…installed in the rec room, to encourage our patients to–oh, hey everyone! Good to see you're not too under the weather this morning."

"Not for lack of trying," Husk said, smirking at Charlie. "How about you, Chuck? You got this glow about ya."

Charlie and Vaggie blushed and giggled, Charlie waving him off. "O-oh? That's very kind of you to say, Husk. Uh… say, what's for breakfast?"

"Bacon, eggs, and flapjacks!" Niffty said. "Want me to whip you two up a plate?"

"Please!"

Husk shook his head, smiling, lifting his mug to his lips.

His coffee was smiling at him.

Husk sputtered and clambered away as inky, vantablack tendrils surged out of his mug, coiling together like a lotus blossom before opening, revealing the Radio Demon.

Angel snorted and poured syrup on his flapjacks. "Show off."

"Good morning, fellow Hazbins!" Alastor crooned. "Well-rested and fed, I see! Fill those bellies, we've a big, interesting day ahead of us!"

"Alastor, feet off the table," Charlie said curtly as Niffty set a plate in front of her.

Alastor hopped off the table and extended his hand to Husk as he untangled his limbs from the chair. "On your feet, soldier."

"Fuck you!"Husk snarled, slapping the taloned hand away from him.

"The sheep are remarkably placid today, despite the impending disaster." Alastor turned and eyed up Charlie, his grin strained, something like impatience in his voice when he spoke. "You have a plan, yes?"

"Yeph," Charlie said through a mouthful of pancakes, a look of exquisite delight spreading across her face. "Niffty, these are amazing! What's your secret?"

"A splash of vanilla in the egg whites before folding, then cook on a pan greased with salted butter."

"Genius!"

"It was Razzle's idea!"

"Bah!"

"Charlie," Alastor said sternly, only for Charlie to stoop forward and jam a forkful of flapjack into his open mouth. "You–Mmph… gracious me, those are good…"

"And yes, we have a plan," said Charlie, sipping her coffee. "Angel's friend Cherri has a secure location and will house you all while I distract Sallos and his goons. After that, I'll meet up with you all at Rosie's, between you and my mother, Al, we have enough good will with her to at least shack up and lay low for a few days. If this shitshow with the Saint's Corpse is bad enough Dad's authorizing Sallos to kick down my door, then I have a feeling that Dad won't be willing to pursue Octavia beyond a certain point. Bigger fish to fry."

"How can you know that?" Alastor said, eyes narrowing.

"I know my father," Charlie said, pithily. "He's cruel and spiteful, but demanding a Goetia's head? That's anger. The only time I've seen Dad angry is when he's been talking to Uncle Mikey, and if he's been talking to Uncle Mikey over this… well, he's not going to tie up one of his best agents on what is essentially a performative pecker-slap."

Husk loosed an impressed whistle, shaking his head as an impressed smile spread across his face. "Fuck, you got this shit dialed in, Chuck."

Vaggie reached over and squeezed her hand. "You don't take shit from other demons."

"Again and again you surprise me, Charlie," Alastor said, offering a low chuckle. "I should love to pick your brain about your relationship with your father. Over a bottle of red, perhaps?"

"I'll make a therapist out of you yet," Charlie said, amused.

"Perhaps." Alastor tapped his staff to the ground, manifesting his staff. "Pardon, I'll have to get Rosie on the horn. No doubt she'll accommodate us, but it's courteous to ask first."

Charlie nodded and opened her mouth to respond when the tinkling chime of the doorbell sang out over the intercom followed by a sharp, rapping knock. "Oh? Shoot, someone's here. Hold on, I'll go get them along their way, I don't want anyone else in the crossfire."

"Charlie…" Vaggie said, her tone low and tense.

"Please, Vaggie!" Charlie said as she left the dining room. "Ol' Sally has to get all the right paperwork from my Dad's office to move on this place, that'll take at least a day. Besides, Sallos wouldn't knock."

Charlie strolled down the hallway and towards the door, preparing her best 'we're busy right now, come back later' smile.

'If it's those fucking cenobites again…' Charlie sighed and opened the door. "How may I help… you…"

In the doorway stood Grand Duke Sallos, ducking down to peer through the 10 foot frame of the door. "Hel–"

Charlie slammed the door shut, her eyes wide, harrowed, before opening it again to make sure, desperately hoping she'd been seeing things.

Once again, there was Grand Duke Sallos, Hell's primary peacekeeper and all around dreaded agent of her father. "–Lo!" She slammed the door shut once more, wasting no time in streaking down the hallway, carving flaming gouges into the floor as she skidded to a stop at the dining room. "He's here! Quick! Everyone, get ready to run!"

Without argument, the Hazbins shot to their feet and took off down the hall towards the lobby. They rounded a corner and descending the stairs was Octavia.

"Octavia!" Charlie cried. "Sallos is here! Get your grimoire and go get Moonie, I'll hold him off!"

"Charlotte…"

"Angel!" Charlie turned to the spider-demon. "Call up Cherri, tell her to prepare!"

"Gotcha, Chuck!"

Octavia stepped towards them, her hand extended. "Charlotte?"

Charlie turned to Alastor. "Any progress on Rosie?"

Alastor nodded. "She'll be expecting these peons within the day. She's familiar with Husker, so he'll be able to barter in my stead."

"Charlotte."

"OnesecondOctavia," Charlie said as she moved on to Vaggie before doing a double-take, turning back to the grinning demon. "What?"

"Why, I'll be staying her with you, Princess," Alastor said, with a wink. "The Duke will be trouble enough without his back-up dancers piling on. I'll endeavor to give you some space."

Charlie's eyes went wide and shiny as tears threatened. "Alastor…"

"Oh pish posh!" Alastor waved her off with a chuckle. "Put away your sentimental poppycock! It's not every day get to see a proper dust-up between royals, now that's entertainment!"

Charlie rallied and shook her head, crossing her arms. "Alastor, as your employer, I cannot ask you to risk your life. I'm afraid I must order you to get to safety with the others."

"Well, shucks!" Alastor snapped his fingers before turning around. "Oh, Angel! Come here, will you?"

"Sure, Grins, waddaya wa–" Angel began to say before Alastor's fist smashed into his face with crushing force, sending the spider sprawling backwards, blood gushing from his nose. "WADDAFUG?!"

Alastor turned back to Charlie, a sly grin on his face. "Gee, I done assaulted a patient. Oops."

Charlie offered a resigned smile, shaking her head. "You're fired."

Green flashes of energy danced across Alastor's form as the pact was sundered, his smile widening as his eyes glowed. "Aces."

"Okay," Charlie said, exhaling as horns sprouted from her forehead, her aura a corona of horrible power, the air turning dry and ozone-scented as she brought her titanic might to bear. "G̨͉̮͔̠a̘̣̻̱̰̘m͕̲e̹͉̜̘̤ ͍̣̲̱͠f̤̯̝̼͕̤͟a͕̯c҉ḛ ̣̪̫͠o͈̳̗̙̹n̸̝͉͈̲̟̩.̩"

With a gesture the door was ripped off its hinges and vaporized revealing a very stunned Sallos and, curiously, just one ducal soldier, a tall spiky sinner in a suit matching his.

"G̝͎̳͔̦̭̥͘ŗ̗̩͓͎̙̜a̦̟͝ń̪d̥̙͉̫͍͠ ̦̹̭͟D̮̠̮̞͈̣̩͡u͡k͏̠̯e̴̳͇̪͉͍ ̢̼̖̟̺̗̩S̛͔̻͔̻͙͚ą͙ͅl̪̞̥ḷ̯̥o̝͇̬͎͖̩̟s̖̖,̨͈͇͎" Charlie thundered, her mouth a hellish maw of teeth and fire. "Y͠o̟̣̦ú͖̹͉̲̳̳͖ ͉̹͖ͅa̲̺̹͍͈̮r̼͖͎̪̗͖̣͡e̥̳̙ ̹̪̭͉͜t͍͉͕̱̞̤̻r̢̬͈̩̥̭ͅe̖̞̦s̤͉̰̠͓͍p͔̟a̝͎͡s̵s̩͈̺i̼ṋ̶̠͍g͢!͎͠ ̠͇͟Ỵ͓͟o̺u͓͔̳̭̯̖ ̼̰̻̱w̺̱͉̘̲i҉̦̞͎̣l͓̭͉l̫̪ ́le̤̭͔̹͜ͅͅà͇̠̟̤v͏ḙ̢̫̥̫ ̳ͅt̯̱̙h̠i̱̮̩͉̥̦̫s̹̩͍͈̤͓ ͉͚̩̱p̗̮͖͝r̯̙͈͎͚o̷̱p̢̗̪̺̱͕̖e͖̖͉̪͡r͇̱̼̭͚t̷̰̬̤̞y͍̹͍͖̞͘ ͕i̲̮͖̙͇̳ͅm͔̼͎m͓͙͚ḛ̤̻̮̞͚d̨̹̖̼ͅi͈̻̫̫̬̥̙at͚͙͟ȩ̝͕̣̣̜ly̴̱̙̠̩,́ ̼̝̺̣͍̟o̭̦̳r̦͉̰̕ ̵͇̺̩̥̗̮͈y͎̝̩̼̰̩͢o̼̥͕̦͈u҉̺ ̕wi͕̞̫͎̳ͅl͓͍̲͍̻̦̠l̪͇̘̤͡ ̰̫͉͓̲͔̲b̀é̩̯͇̩̖ ͉͕̰r̼e̞̳̠̰̤̼ͅm͖͜o̦̳͜v̳͎͈̬̗̟e̖̠d̠̼!͚̳"

"Now, now, Charlotte." Sallos positioned himself between Charlie and his minion, his expression calm. "Is that any way to greet an invited guest?"

"What?!" She spat. "Don't think for a second you can–"

A voice cut above the din. "CHARLIE!"

Charlie turned around to see Octavia, who had put herself between Sallos and the others, standing next to an intrigued Alastor. "Octavia? What–"

"I invited him," she said, her eyes tired and expression flat. "I rescind my claim to sanctuary. You don't have to fight, no one needs to get hurt because of me."

"A wise decision, Via. You're very–" Sallos said, before being silence by a snarl from Charlie, her eyes red and terrible.

Charlie turned back to Octavia, making her way over to her, her expression crestfallen. "Octavia, you can't mean that. He'll kill you!"

Octavia nodded, sadly, before gesturing to the Hotel, its staff, and her. "But you'll all be okay. Moonie will be okay. What you're doing here, Charlie, it's incredible. You can help people. You can help all of Hell. I can't risk that being destroyed because of my family bullshit. I really appreciate everything you've done for me, but I have to face facts. Maybe… maybe Hell will be better off if I do this… Moonie too."

Charlie shook her head, setting a hand on her shoulder. "Octavia…"

"End of discussion. I won't run anymore, I'm done. It's time the Goetia family got what it deserves. If you want your people to get through this, you'll let me go." Octavia moved her hand off her shoulder, taking her hand in her and squeezing gently, a sad smile on her face. "Please. Help Moonchild the best you can. Redeem him. Get him where he deserves to be."

Glowing, molten tears spilled down Charlie's cheeks, she nodded, her monstrous features receding. "I will, Via."

Octavia turned to Sallos. "Uncle Sally. Can I go for a moment? Say goodbye?"

Sallos nodded, his expression downcast and sullen. "Of course, Poppet. Take as long as you need."

Octavia smiled and nodded, making her way upstairs.

Sallos and his minion stood awkwardly in the lobby opposite the terrified demons.

"Uh…" Niffty said, stepping towards the towering Duke. "Coffee, Uncle Sally?"

Sallos sighed and nodded. "Please, thank you."

Moonchild shifted in bed, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. He sat up and yawned, smacking his lips. The memories of last night rushed in, their clarity and fresh, crisp shame dispelling any notion that they may have been mere bad dreams. He sighed and buried his face in his hands, of all the times to fail in such a manner, why then, with someone he loved? Why did that consuming, anxious fear strike at that moment? Why not before, with–

He pushed the thought from his mind. Not her, Octavia didn't remind him of… her mother. There was some relation, though. Some familiarity. It was hard to ignore day to day, much less in the throes of passion.

Moonchild got to his feet and set out towards the window, slipping into a pair of briefs though not particularly concerned with modesty, quite sure that anyone who saw him would probably appreciate the view. Such was his life now, then, possibly always. Always an object, something to be coveted and consumed. Something to be–

There was a limo parked out in front of the Hotel, a very familiar limo.

His eyes snapped open wide: Sallos was here.

Octavia wasn't.

"Oh God," he said, his voice hoarse with horror. "Oh God, no, please…"

Moonchild spun around to quickly clothe himself and make for the door, stopping only upon seeing Octavia standing in the doorframe.

"Via!" He cried, pointing to the window. "Sallos is here! Quick, get Charlie and–"

Octavia summoned her grimoire and opened it, waving a glowing hand at him. "S̡i̴̜̟l̪͕̦e̝̣̺̲͚̭̭nt̯͖̱̕i̭̲̼u͠m̳."

Moonchild froze, his body encased in a glowing azure aura. Octavia locked him with a sad stare, making her way over to him. She gingerly cupped his cheek with her hand before leaning for one final gentle kiss.

"I'm sorry, Moonie, for everything." She rubbed his cheek, gazing into his wide, pleading eyes. "Get better, redeem yourself. If you love me at all, forget about me and my family and get out of here. I love you, Moonchild. Never forget that."

With that, she left, leaving him frozen in place. The door to his room swung shut, revealing a tall, emerald-eyed figure, a cruel smirk on his face. He strode past his petrified other half and gazed out the window, gathering the coin off the floor.

"Not much longer now."

Sallos sipped his coffee next to Gallia. It was a decent blend, and hot, too. Too often he'd find himself treated to the standard lukewarm swill inflicted on Hell's populace as yet another of Lucifer's infinite, petty afflictions. Sitting across the lobby from them was Charlotte and her pets. Sinners the lot, though the continued presence of Overlord Alastor was a matter of some intrigue. Sallos figured that a callow swine such as the Radio Demon would flee upon his arrival, the upstart being notorious for his arbitrary rule over the domains he conquered seemingly out of petty boredom. Why did he stay? Loyalty? Impossible.

Captain Gallia crossed her legs and reached into her collar, producing the heavily populated necklace of teeth around her neck, holding onto one very familiar, yellowish fang in particular, winking and kissing at Alastor. The Radio Demon glowered, his jaundiced smile morphing into a snarl.

Then Charlotte spoke: "He's doing this to punish you, you know."

Sallos blinked in surprise, she continued: "Forcing you to kill your niece. Lucifer is punishing you for your failures."

Sallos gazed down into his coffee, examining his reflection in the dark liquid; was his expression betraying anything.

"We know all about it," Charlotte continued. "The Corpse, Trouble, Holy Diver's gang, the whole thing. You haven't been able to get it back, so Uncle Mikey tore into my father and he then told you to kill her, right?"

Sallos saw his own face shift into a rictus of shock; how the Hell did she know all that?!

Charlotte saw this and pressed on. "You don't have to do this. You don't have to do any of it. Let her live, please, for your own sake."

Sallos glared at her, his gaze withering despite his sad eyes. "You should know better than anyone, what your father wants, he gets, the more cruel the better. This is the most painless way."

Charlotte sighed and shook her head. "It doesn't have to be."

"But it is." Sallos got to his feet, turning to face Octavia as she descended the stairs. "Are you ready, Poppet?"

"As I'll ever be," she said, as she walked over to him, taking his huge hand in hers. "Let's go."

Sallos remembered the first time he held her hand as a hatchling, her tiny talons unable to enclose just one of his massive fingers. He felt his begin to heart break anew and squeezed her hand in his, smiling down at her. "You're so brave, Via."

With that, they left.