5

It took some doing to actually find the car. Isobel did her best to describe what she remembered, but the day had been full of confusion and fear. Plus, running for one's life messes with their sense of direction. They had narrowed it down to a certain sector and walked the streets looking for anything that Isobel found familiar. Charlie noticed that Isobel shied away from any others that they may pass on the street. She could feel her uneasiness and in an effort to distract, talked incessantly. However, this did not seem to put Isobel at ease, though that was mostly because she was only half listening.

"Well, anyway," Charlie continued trying to engage Isobel's attention. "It was quite the surprise to see you out of your room today. It took you a while. I was beginning to wonder if you would ever come out."

"Yeah," Isobel seemed slightly guilty. "Sorry about that. It just took some time to actually accept what was happening. For a while I thought it was a dream or delusion and that if I closed my eyes long enough I would wake up back at home. But every time I opened them, I was still here. In Hell. Who would have thought. Still kind of hard to wrap my brain around."

"Why's that?"

"I never really believed in Hell or Heaven, but here it is a real, tangible place."

Charlie, who had lived in Hell the whole of her life, was completely dumbfounded at the possibility that someone could simply not believe in its existence.

"How could you not believe in Heaven and Hell?"

"Um," Isobel didn't know how to explain delicately. Perhaps being blunt was the best option. "Because the whole system seems stupid." Charlie and Vaggie looked back at her clearly not understanding, so she pressed on. "It's all based on an image of morality that is constantly changing and dictated by the culture in which you were born, the time in which you were born, and the class system in which you were born. It's all just really unfair, plus no one is all bad or all good. I don't know, I thought if there was a Hell it would be on Earth. Because there is nothing a demon could do that is worse than what humans do to each other, right? People live on Earth for a relatively short amount of time and what you do justifies suffering the rest of eternity? Never seemed right."

It was at this moment Charlie surprised Isobel with a ferocious hug. Isobel froze.

"Ah, what's happening?"

"She's a hugger," Vaggie explained. She looked on with an expression that suggested this was not the first time she had seen something like this. For her part, Isobel was definitely not a hugger. She stood there awkwardly, hands splayed out to the side, and muscles in her body tense and unmoving. She made no effort to reciprocate the unwanted affection and simply waited for it to be over. As Charlie finally pulled away, Isobel was surprised to see what could only be described as tears of joy threatening the corners of Charlie's eyes.

"See, Vaggie," Charlie said. "She gets it."

"I get what?"

"The system is stupid. It's why we started the hotel. To save sinners from an eternity of damnation."

"Really? How is that working out for you?"

Unfortunately, Charlie could not go into her usual speeches of virtues of the hotel and the constant push back from Heaven, and how frustrating it all was even though she was absolutely sure if given the chance it would all work out just as she had envisioned, because as they turned a corner down a side street, there Isobel's car stood. However, it was not as she had left it just a few days ago. It looked weathered as if it had been there for years, rusted and graffitied.

"What happened to it?" Isobel wondered aloud. The three took a close look at the vehicle.

Vaggie seemed to have some kind of idea of what they were actually looking at. "Things from the living world are not made to last here. They corrode or fall apart."

"Is that going to happen to me?" Isobel looked back and forth from Charlie to Vaggie. Neither's face gave much comfort, but Charlie was quick to reassure.

"No," she said, putting a hand on Isobel's shoulder. "I mean look at this thing, you would be dead by now if this was happening to you."

That was not as comforting as Charlie had hoped. Isobel groaned and put her head in her hands.

"I'm stuck in Hell and I'm going to slowly corrode to death."

"I'm sure that's not what's happening. Vaggie, tell her."

Vaggie shrugged, "I don't know what's happening. She could be right."

Isobel groaned pitifully again as Charlie glared at Vaggie.

"Hey, you know what?" Charlie grabbed Isobel by the wrists. "We obviously need a little more insight from someone who knows more, someone who has been around longer. So I am going to call my dad, I bet he's come across something like this before." She still did not sound convincing.

"This isn't like, I need a quick ride home from a friend's house, or how do you stop a leaky faucet. What could your dad possibly do?"

"Well," Vaggie interjected. "He is the King of Hell."

Isobel dropped her hands from her head and stared aghast at Vaggie. "Come again?"

"Yeah," Charlie seemed a little embarrassed as most kids of celebrities must feel at different times in their lives. "He's the King of Hell. I'm just going to call him real quick. I'm sure he'll help." She held the phone to her ear.

"No, I'm sorry, are we talking like Lucifer, fallen angel, the light bringer, King of Hell, here?"

"That would be the one," Vaggie confirmed. "He's really nice."

Isobel sat down where she stood questioning again her own sanity. "How is this my life right now?"

"Ok, so he didn't pick up," Charlie said. "But I left a message that we really needed to talk to him about a really weird problem. I'm sure he'll get back to us soon. As for now," She grabbed Isobel by the shoulders and lifted her to her feet. "Let's go back to the hotel, have a calming drink (I'll make cocoa!), and then we can brainstorm other possible solutions."

No other solutions were brainstormed.

All hopes were pinned on the possibility that Charlie's father, the mighty King of Hell, had some special knowledge that would shine a light on Isobel's predicament. However, it had been days and no reply had come. Life could not just stop for the rest of the residents of the hotel, so they all went about their business, quickly accepting Isobel as just another feature in their lives. Just another shadow that haunted the halls. However, for Isobel, it all felt like living in limbo… as opposed to Hell. She felt the constant frustration of "hurry up and wait."

For the majority of the time she was mostly on her own. In the evenings she would keep company with the others, mainly Angel and Charlie. They would watch terrible TV shows together. But during the day, the hours dragged on with nothing to do. Isobel was alone and bored, but she dared not leave the hotel on her own. But today she stood at the front doors staring at the stained glass trying to muster up the courage to leave.

When in the living world, Isobel took walks. She walked every day, sometimes for hours. She would walk, listen to music, and feel at peace. It was her way of processing whatever she may be going through. Since being at the hotel, her walks were reduced to up and down the empty halls, but it wasn't the same. She was always afraid of what might be around the next corner, like Nifty with a knife, which had happened on more than one occasion.

Isobel would blindly head down a new hallway and Nifty would be there, frozen in place, knife aloft as if in the middle of a stabbing. And the two would just stare until Isobel would back up the way she came or edge around being sure to give Nifty an extra wide berth to carry on her way.

Isobel was tired of feeling like she was living in The Shining.

She stared at the front doors contemplating the pros and cons when the crackle and pop of radio static drew her attention. The Radio Demon was suddenly standing at her shoulder. Isobel flinched.

"You've been standing here for quite some time now. Is there something I can assist you with?" He smiled down at her.

"No thanks, I'm good." It was the push she needed and she walked quickly out the door. Nothing out on the street would be as creepy as that guy.

It was mid-morning and there was a bustle of people coming and going. She had remembered to bring her sunglasses with her, as it seemed that her eyes were the main source of unwanted attention. Hopefully, she could, for the most part, blend in.

Surprisingly, her very lazy disguise worked. So she walked. She made sure to keep close to the hotel, the last thing she needed was to be out alone and lost. But as the time went on, she became more comfortable with her surroundings and traveled further out. One more block, and then another. After a couple of hours, she found herself at a crossroads. It seemed most people went left toward the city proper, but curiosity overtook her, and she steered her feet right. The street became a narrow boulevard and to Isobel's surprise a large, grand building stood at the end. It had white marble columns and carvings of hellhounds growling and hunched guarding the entrance way. A large stained glass window above the double front doors read, Library.

Isobel stopped for a moment. Surely, there are no libraries in Hell. What would even be in a hellbound library? She had to go inside.

It was immediately obvious that she had been the only person inside in quite some time. As she stepped into the gloom, electric lights flickered to life in elaborate sconces and chandeliers. Dust and cobwebs hung heavy and shrouded light fixtures, desks, and bookcases. Isobel felt like she had stepped into a tomb full of secrets.

She walked down the aisles dragging her finger along the spines of hundreds of books. Most were written in strange languages and cryptic hieroglyphics. Some seemed to glow dully at her touch. At random she pulled a large volume from the shelves. It was heavy with a thick leather cover and gold trimmed pages. She flicked through, each page with brilliant swooping writing from some ancient hand. Isobel replaced it and continued on.

Not all the books were ancient masterpieces. She eventually found titles she could read and recognize. The Divine Comedy, The Hunchback of Notre-Dame, Paradise Lost. More modern titles too, The Catcher in the Rye, The Grapes or Wrath… Harry Potter.

Isobel laughed and took a step back. Banned books, that's what would be in a hellbound Library. That and tomes depicting the workings of the occult, books on magic and alchemy, Satanic bibles.

She did stumble onto the "self-help' section. This was simply stocked with volumes of the Holy Bible, which seemed problematic. She had spent too much time wondering and before she knew it, the shadows were growing long and the light from outside was failing. She had to get back before dark. Thinking that no one would mind, she borrowed a few books, it was at least something to do with her hours to fill everyday.

Maybe she was being overly suspicious or maybe her anxiety was getting to her, but she crossed the street a few times to avoid some shady characters. However, she was able to find her way back to the hotel in quick order. It helped that the building towered over everything else around and as she slipped in through the front doors, the sign of the Hazbin Hotel came to life illuminating the night.

"Oh there you are. I was starting to wonder." Angel called to her from the lobby. He was stretched out on the couch, TV already playing some obnoxious reality show. "Come watch TV with us. You'll never guess what this one bitch said to the other bitch."

Charlie sat in the wingback chair, Vaggie on her lap. They both greeted her as she approached.

Isobel leaned on the couch and watched a few minutes of the show. It was terrible. All the programming seemed to be terrible. Probably a byproduct of being in Hell, nothing good was ever on.

"I'm not really in the mood to watch TV tonight. Hey, did you guys know there was a library?" None answered, they were all hypnotized by the catfight that was ensuing on screen.

Quietly Isobel left them to it and settled in a side parlor with big comfy chairs and a fireplace. What did they need with a fireplace, Isobel could not fathom. It was always just a little too warm everywhere anyway. Did Hell ever get cold? Were there seasons? She shrugged off her questions and settled down to read.

She had been there for about 20 minutes when an uneasiness came upon her. Without dropping her book she moved her eyes around, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Whatever 'ordinary' meant. She cocked an eyebrow and lowered her book a little. As she did, two pointed deer ears appeared over the rim. She sighed, and dropped the book lower. The Radio Demon sat across from her smiling his razor sharp grin, his hands resting atop his cane in front of him.

Isobel searched her brain. What was his name? Alvin? Albert? Definitely started with an A.

"Can I help you?" She asked cautiously.

"I couldn't help noticing that you are reading." He said, sounding completely delighted.

"Yes," Isobel said dryly. "I can read."

"Of course, but it is very odd to see someone choose the written word over that annoying contraption in the other room."

"Do you mean the TV?"

"You say TV, I say insufferable nuisance."

Isobel nodded and smiled a little.

"For the record," she said. "I usually like television, there's just never anything good on."

"May I inquire as to what you are reading?"

"Oh," She was not expecting to have a full on conversation about this, but sure, since he asked so politely. "I have To Kill a Mockingbird, Slaughter…"

"Slaughter?" His eyes lit up and Isobel wondered if he was really listening to her, but she pressed on.

"-house Five, and I found this thing." It was a huge reference book, thick and heavy with a blue cover and silver writing. "The General Demonology and Hierarchy of Hell, They're Skills, Responsibilities, and Holdings in How They Relate to the Upkeep and Functioning of the Sovereignty of Hell By Aloysius of the Family Goetia. Whatever that means. But I thought if I'm stuck here, I might as well be learning something."

"Yes, fascinating," he said and Isobel was now sure he was not actually listening. So why was he here bothering her?

"Ok, well, I'm just going to go back to reading now." She raised To Kill a Mockingbird up so as to block her view of the unsettling man before her. She then read the next paragraph three times over, but it was no good. She could not concentrate knowing that just beyond the crinkled pages and binding, that sinister smile waited. She sighed and lowered the book again and there he remained, legs crossed, polishing his monocle, patiently waiting. "Was there something else you needed?" His ears perked up.

"As a matter of fact," finally he could get to the true reason he had chosen to engage. Small talk was all well and good, but there were other matters on his mind. "I wanted to ask you about your eyes."

Isobel was already over this topic. "Yeah?"

"They are quite the exquisite color, It makes me wonder how they would taste. Have you ever considered selling them?"

Isobel snapped her book closed and placed it on her lap. She then folded her hands together thoughtfully.

"Just so that I am clear," she said at a slow methodical rate, she wanted to make sure she was fully understanding the situation. "Are you asking me if I would sell you my eyeballs so you can eat them?"

"I would pay a very handsome sum."

She paused. She couldn't be certain whether he was joking or not. She had the horrible feeling that he was, in fact, serious.

"I cannot say I have ever been in a situation that called for such a thing, but I can assure you that if I am ever interested in selling my eyeballs for consumption, I know who to go to."

"Delightful," he said, positively elated. "Thank you, my deer."

"No," she said somewhat appalled and sarcastic. "Thank you. I'm going to go now. This conversation wasn't awkward at all."

They smiled at each other for a moment, then Isobel, as quickly as she dared, grabbed her books and left. She decided she would just read in her room. It was quieter up there, and less creepy, red deer-demons skulking around. She was lost in thought and walking as fast as she could, so she didn't have time to notice Vaggie as she turned the corner at the top of the stairs. The two ran into each other and Isobel dropped her books.

"Whoa," Vaggie said catching Slaughterhouse Five as it fell. Isobel apologized and stooped to pick up the other two books. "Are you ok?" Vaggie could see that she was distracted.

"No." Isobel said exasperated. "Ya boi in the red zoot suit just offered to buy my eyes so he could eat them."

Vaggie sighed and shook her head, "Ugh, Alastor." Alastor! That was his name. She knew it started with an A. "You didn't say yes, did you?

"Who would say yes?"

"You would be surprised. Listen," Vaggie suddenly became very serious. "Alastor has been helping us out and he is good to have around when you need him, but he is still an overlord, and he didn't get that way without inflicting a lot of damage along the way."

"Really?" Isobel tried to imagine him as some dangerous threat, but somehow it didn't work out in her mind. She knew he was a demon and all, but all she could imagine was something like Fred Astere in a fist fight and that just seemed absurd.

"Whatever you do, don't agree to anything or make a deal with him. And never, ever, ever shake his hand. He'll end up owning your soul. He already owns Husker and Nifty, and who knows what other demons."

"Oh," Isobel glanced over her shoulder, suddenly nervous. "Thanks for the heads up. Hey, listen, you don't think he'd try to eat my eyes while I'm sleeping, do you."

"No, no," Vaggie thought it over. "I'm like 87% sure he wouldn't."

"I guess I'll just have to make sure my door's always locked then, huh?" It was supposed to be a joke, but by the way Vaggie looked at her… "Locked doors don't keep him out, do they?"

"He can kind of become a shadow monster thing."

"Cool," Isobel nodded, resigned. "This is a really awesome place. Hey, do you know if Charlie's dad got back to her yet." Vaggie shook her head almost apologetically.

Isobel continued to her room, locked the door anyway, and read until it was time for bed. However, with the lights off, the shadows played against the walls and she could not help but wonder which ones were a trick of the light and which were actually alive. Sleep did not come easily that night.