Chapter 8: A Bustling Hotel

In a matter of hours, the Hazbin Hotel went from being a nearly vacant building to an infirmary. Charlie, Vaggie, and I directed incoming demons through the lobby and up to the dining room. Anywhere we could fit those that were injured filled up as nearly half of the population of the south side was sorted into groups of their own individual species. In the lobby, Alastor took on those with antlers and hooves, Niffty took care of the cyclopeans and imps, Husk helped out his fellow cat demons, hellhounds, and any other type of demon with fur and claws. Up in the dining room, Angel Dust did what he could to help his fellow arachnids and insect types, I worked with those with horns and feathered wings, and Vaggie and Charlie took on everyone else.

To say I was stressed was a colossal understatement. All around me, I had demons congratulating me on becoming the south side's new leader. All the while, those same demons were nursing severe injuries or bleeding out. Dining tables became operating tables as people worked feverishly to stitch each other up, reset broken limbs, or pop limbs back into place. I already had to deliver the devastating news to five winged demons that they'd most likely never fly again, and just when I thought we'd gotten through the worst of the injuries, the next wave of new arrivals would come in, bringing on a new set of injuries with varying degrees of severity.

It was well into the night before things finally started to settle down. Charlie shifted from patching up the injured to checking people in and setting them up in their rooms. Vaggie was able to leave and perform her regular duties of managing the hotel, fulfilling requests and making sure everyone was behaving. Alastor, despite looking completely drained and in need of a good night's rest, came up from the lobby with Niffty and prepared food for everyone. Angel Dust looked like he'd managed to make a few friends, and was actively engaged in a conversation with a mantis demon as he wrapped a bandage around one of his raptorial legs.

I went down into the lobby to check in on Husk. I found him with the other cat demons, watching over them as they lapped at their wounds alongside the hellhounds. It was strange not seeing him with a bottle of boose in his hands, but at the same time it was satisfying. He looked healthier, his fur sleek like he'd just ran a brush through it, and his eyes were more focused and alert. He had a cup of water nearby that he didn't seem to be all that impressed with, but he still drank it. It looked like he was genuinely trying to abide by the rules and stay away from the alcohol.

"How are you holding up?" I asked him.

"I've seen worse," Husk grumbled, crossing his arms as he eyed the other felines, "Pretty sure they'll live. What about you? I heard you had quite the day today."

I let out a tired sigh as I leaned against a nearby wall, "I guess you could say that. It's a lot to take in."

Husk chuckled as he patted my back, nearly bowling me over with the heaviness of his paw, "Bet you're wishing for that drink now, aren't ya?"

"I wouldn't say no to a shot right about now, not gonna lie."

"You'll be all right, kid. Don't worry about it."

With how much he scowled all the time, it felt weird to see him smiling and laughing as we talked. They say a sober man's thoughts are a drunk man's words, but I think Husk's true colors were revealed when he wasn't drinking. He knew how to be friendly and supportive, but all the liquor he consumed blotted that out and left him as little more than a bitter, antisocial, grumpy kitty. Maybe it was possible for him to change for the better.

After sitting in silence for some time and watching the others in the room, Alastor came down to announce that dinner was ready. However, my attention was directed to a deep V that had been clipped out of the edge of one of his long, fluffy ears.

"What happened to you?" Husk inquired.

"Ah, I'm afraid one of our guests got a little agitated as I was bandaging him up," Al explained as he turned towards one of the groups of demons that was nearby.

We followed his gaze to a large moose demon, who only tossed a glance at him before flipping him off. I knew that demon fairly well. He wasn't into making friends, or accepting help from anyone. My guess is that he really didn't care for getting help from the likes of Alastor, who responded to his gesture with a friendly wave.

"Let me take a look at it," I piped up, "Just to make sure it won't need any special attention."

Alastor seemed hesitant. The damaged ear swiveled away from my direction at the sheer reluctance he felt at me having to touch it, but flicked back into place when it brushed agaist one of his antlers. Either the damn thing really hurt, or he just didn't like anything touching his ears. Knowing how sensitive some of them could be, I was willing to bet it was the latter.

"Ten seconds," I said, "That's it."

Alastor pondered my request for a few seconds before finally stooping down to let me investigate. It was a clean cut, and was only a couple of inches long. The split might not fuse back together, but he had enough hair on his head that he could hide it if he wanted to. All he had to do was keep it clean, and it would heal all on its own.

Something caught my eye as I was looking him over. The fringe that hung over his forehead hid something that couldn't normally be seen when he was up and about. Without thinking, I lifted my hand and pushed away some of the hair, revealing a scar on his forehead. A scar that looked suspiciously like a bullet wound.

"What--"

My investigation was cut short as Alastor reared back and grabbed my wrist. His grip was tight as his smile wavered, threatening to morph into a snarl. I could see the radio dials in his eyes manifesting just behind his irises. An anxiety-inducing mixture of anger and fear rolled off of him like smoke as he stared me down. It was only then that I bothered to look around, and realized that I had been surrounded by an army of sentient shadows that grinned and growled at me as I met their obscure gazes.

Slowly, Alastor loosened his grip and took a step back, his expression never changing as he turned around and started back towards the staircase. Every set of eyes in the room followed him until he was out of sight before they turned to look at me. I had crossed a line. I had definitely, definitely crossed a line. Whatever that scar was that he kept hidden beneath his bangs, I wasn't supposed to know about it. Nobody was.

Husk came up beside me and shot me a nervous, sideways glance, "You saw it, didn't you? His scar... One of them, anyways."

I turned to him with a look, full of shock, curiosity, and confusion, "One of them?"

"Believe me, he's got more than just the one. He... didn't exactly die a good death."

"Is there really such thing as a good death?"

"Heh, drinkin' myself to death wasn't a bad way to go, in my book. I can't give you all the details, because I don't want to end up getting skinned alive by that fucker. But I will say this: Al's got a lot more problems than he knows how to deal with, and I really think he could use your help."

My brow furrowed, "My help?"

"Well, you're a witch, ain't ya? Can't you do a little voodoo therapy on him, or something?"

I couldn't help but laugh. It was a common misconception that I fixed everybody's problems with magic, or something akin to it. The truth of the matter was that most of my abilities didn't require it. Most of it was information that I had been taught through studying books and working with my mentors. My tarot readings were probably the most therapeutic thing I did for others, but even that only took a little bit of time to learn the meanings of the cards and finding the right tarot deck. Tied together with a bit of intuition, practically anyone could do what I did on the daily with a little time and practice. The only time I used my true abilities was when the elementary stuff didn't work.

Regardless, Husk's words did strike a cord with me. I had already gotten a look into Al's past. I got to see a fragment of his childhood, and I had witnessed his past interactions with Mimsy. There was bound to be a treasure trove of information he was keeping hidden away inside of him, and a heaping rat's nest of bad memories festering inside of his head that he wasn't letting out. Everyone had a breaking point; human, demon, or otherwise. How long would it be before his smiling, charismatic front finally crumbled?

"Look," Husk continued, "Alastor isn't exactly my favorite person in Hell, but we do go way back. He's all wise cracking yellow smiles on the surface, but deep down what he isn't saying is going to hurt him in the long run. I think your abilities could be of benefit to him."

I let out a hum, "You might be onto something there. The only thing I have to do is get him to sit still long enough for me to be able to help him, and accept it."

My hand slipped into a pocket in my jeans and pulled out my cigarette pack and lighter. I eyed them for a moment before moseying my way over to a trash can and chucking them into it. Granted, they were fished out in a matter of seconds by one of the junkies that had been hanging out in a corner, but I'd done what I aimed to achieve.

I hadn't had a cigarette since this morning, and my nicotine reserves were running on fumes. By the time I went to bed tonight, I'd be willing to bet that they'd be running on empty. Good. Not only was it a step in the right direction for my rehabilitation, but it left me wide open to having another vision in my sleep. The scar on Alastor's forehead was another link into his past, that much I knew. Since it seemed he wouldn't be letting me touch it any time soon, I had to trust that my abilities would give me insight into the memories that were connected to it.

In the wee hours of the morning, I was finally given an opportunity to get some rest. Having a fair portion of the south side's population in the hotel had some major effects on my personal routine, namely that everyone in the building all of a sudden wanted readings from me. I was ready to settle down at around two o'clock in the morning, but the sheer number of those demons who wanted insight from my cards, or from me reading their palms, kept me up until about 4:30.

Naturally, it was something that I had to run by Charlie and Vaggie first, before I just started conducting my readings all willy-nilly, and as the both of them had already gotten themselves tucked into bed, I had to decide which readings could be done with good intentions, and which ones I had to skip all together. Most just wanted to know if they were going to heal properly, or if their families and loved ones would be all right, but there were a few with ill intentions that I could sense that tried slipping through the cracks. It wasn't how I normally conducted business, but these people were desperate. As their leader, I couldn't just let them fend for themselves.

When my last customer finally left my room, I picked myself up and locked the door behind them. My brain felt like it had turned to mush, and I felt like I could curl up just about anywhere and pass out in an instant. Hitting the lights, I managed to carry myself to my bed and crawl under the covers. I'm pretty sure I was out before my head even hit the pillows.

Every now and then, everyone has one of those nights when it feels like the time between when one falls asleep and when they wake up is lost. For me, this was one of those nights. No visions, no dreams, not even a void of darkness to accompany me as I slept. All I knew is that I was out the moment I laid down, only to awaken several hours later to a knock on my door.

I managed to get a look at Pentagram City's clocktower just as it struck noon. Shit!

I made my way to the door as quickly as possible, and threw it open. Charlie stood there with a stack of hotcakes in her hands, and a look of concern on her face.

"We missed you at breakfast," she said, "I figured you might be hungry."

Starving was more like it. I had been so caught up in all of the readings I'd been giving yesterday that I hadn't even bothered with dinner, so my last meal had been yesterday's breakfast. The number of brutal injuries and the smell of blood that happened as a result of the attack had sent my appetite flying south, anyways, so being bombarded with the overwhelming scent of cinnamon and warm maple syrup made my hunger return with a vengeance.

Taking the plate from her hands, I sat myself down at the corner table and eagerly dug in. Charlie invited herself in to join me, sitting on the opposite side of the table propped up on her elbows with her fingers laced.

"I heard you had a pretty busy night, last night," she piped up, "Angel say just about everyone wanted to get a reading from you."

"Yeah," I replied, "I wanted to run that by you guys first before I did anything, but it was the middle of the night. I sorted them out though. A lot of them were just worried about the attack, but there were a few sour apples in the mix."

"I know. A lot of our guests have seemed more at ease since they came to see you. Which is why I wanted to make you an offer."

I paused, "What's the offer?"

"How would you like to be the hotel's personal guidance counselor?"

It took every ounce of concentration to keep myself from choking on my breakfast. Guidance counselor? I wasn't exactly qualified to take on such a role. I may give advice on the daily, and did my best to guide people in the right direction, but apart from piecing together messages from a handful of cards with pictures on them, and listening to my intuition, I wasn't what one would necessarily call a therapist.

"What brought this about, all of a sudden?" I inquired.

Charlie let out a sigh, "I have a few people that could probably use it. Angel's going nuts trying to stay one hundred percent clean, and Alastor had to pay up this morning for downing three pots of coffee, and messing with some of the other guests."

I couldn't help but laugh. I figured it'd only be a matter of time before the Radio Demon cracked and got himself caught up in some kind of mischief. He did seem to be struggling quite a bit yesterday morning when I found him at the front desk. I guess even all-powerful demon overlords caved in sometimes.

"Why not?" I finally said, "Sounds like it'll be a fun challenge."

Charlie let out a relieved sigh, "Cool beans... because I could really use your help!"

My breakfast was practically yeeted across the room as Charlie threw herself across the table and grabbed me by my shoulders.

"I'm freaking out, June! I am freaking the fuck out!"

"I can see that," I replied curtly, trying to keep myself from getting whiplash as she shook my shoulders, "Might I ask why?"

"Well... I guess making several trips to the south side with my dad's car drew a lot of attention. My parents caught wind of what happened yesterday, and have decided that they're going to be paying the hotel a visit later this afternoon."

My stomach dropped, "Your parents are coming here? Today?"

Like many of the other demons that dwelled in the lower levels of Hell's society, I hadn't been introduced to the royal family. Lilith and Lucifer didn't make that many public appearances, and when they did, it was normally the overlords they bothered presenting themselves to, if it wasn't just a brief publicity stunt that was shown on the news. I was lucky enough to have meet Charlie, as not many other demons could say the same, but the possibility of meeting the king and queen themselves? Would I be able to handle such an encounter?

Above all, why was Charlie freaking out about this? These were her parents she was talking about. She knew them a hell of a lot better than anyone of us in the hotel, especially me.

"What should I do?" Charlie asked, finally pulling herself off of my shoulders, "We haven't gotten everything worked out around here yet. If my dad sees this place, I don't think I'll ever hear the end of it!"

"Charlie, relax," I said, standing up from the table and dusting myself off, "Come with me. I think you need to see something."

Curious, Charlie followed behind me as I strode out into the hallway. I might have been in nothing but the flannel jammies Alastor had slipped into the clothing bag he provided me, but I wasn't exactly concerned about my appearance at the moment. All of that could wait.

We walked from the hotel's top level down to the lobby. There were plenty of demons that were up and about, greeting us and waving cheerfully as we passed by. I even spotted Fat Nuggets getting pampered by Angel and a few other demons, who had smuggled some of their lunch out of the dining room, and were letting him eat out of their hands. I couldn't help but keep a lookout, making sure Alastor wasn't stalking the poor pig from afar. He was nowhere to be seen, but I was sure that didn't mean anything.

The hotel lobby was alive with activity as Husk picked up where Charlie had left off last night at checking people in. There were groups of every kind of demon under the sun that were sitting around and socializing with one another, or just going about doing their own thing.

I stopped just short of the hotel's front doors and spun Charlie around to face the bustling activity happening around us.

"What do you see?" I asked her.

"Uh... nothing?"

"Really? Because, that's what I saw when I first walked in here three days ago. Look around you. Everywhere I turn, I see sinners. More than I can count. Every last one of them decided to come here with me, rather than face whatever was awaiting them back in the south side of the city. I don't know about you, but that sounds like progress to me."

Charlie seemed to brighten up at my words as she lifted her head to have a good look around. Even Husk gave us a wave from his seat at the check-in counter, still looking a bit grim with his glass of water, but still welcoming in a way. His energy could be quite charming when he wasn't drunk.

"You're right," Charlie stated, "This place is finally starting to get up off of the ground! I'm not a complete failure. I'm not a complete failure!"

And with that, I watched the princess of Hell skip merrily throughout the ground floor of the hotel, spreading her joy to anyone who would listen. I knew that not everyone here would be a raving success story. Some might decide to just go back to their homes once they healed up, but I knew that there were a lot more demons here that followed me back for the chance at working towards redemption. A lot of these sinners were the ones that didn't fully deserve to be in Hell. I knew it, they knew it; we all knew it.

In the end, I was sure that Charlie would be able to make the Hazbin a success, and she'd be able to rub Lucifer's nose in it...

And then proceed with sing a song about it.