The long hours passed far too quickly, Mama somehow managing to stay up the entire time. A single sleepless night was a small price to pay to see her son's smile for just a little longer, even if his face had changed a bit. She listened to his voice, strange and altered as if it came from an old speaker. She was so proud of the powerful man he'd become, and the music that floated around him was only too fitting.
They sat on the bed, and talked, and talked, and talked some more, catching up on decades of drama and history. She told him about her own life in Heaven; how she'd carved a place for herself that felt enough like home to be pleasant, but that was free of all the hurt and pain she'd had on Earth. Alastor wouldn't tell her what he'd done with his father when he'd found him down in Hell; he didn't want to give his mother nightmares.
When Elida woke up the next morning, Alastor and Mama were pouring over a book, discussing its contents.
"I'm not familiar with this ingredient, what is it?" he asked.
"It's something you can only get up here. I can send you home with a box, if you like."
"Yes please," he agreed, clearly delighted.
"Take care not to overcook them, though. They can be a bit finnicky with heat."
"Noted."
Elida stretched luxuriously, yawning. The room had warmed up significantly while she slept thanks to Alastor's little fireplace. She sat up sleepily. "Good morning," she greeted. "What time is it?"
"Ah! She's awake," Mama exclaimed, "Time to make breakfast!"
"It's eight o'clock," Alastor answered helpfully, the now-familiar radio static in his voice somewhat comforting to Elida. She had grown accustomed to hearing his station first thing every day.
Elida knitted her eyebrows together, "I slept in that long? I usually get up around six."
"No alarm today," he pointed out, "I thought you might like a little extra shut-eye." His eyes continued to scan the open page. It looked like some kind of recipe.
"Or you wanted more time with Mama," she countered, shooting him a knowing look.
He shrugged, "Who's to say?"
Mama liked that Elida was willing to challenge Alastor. That was good for him, and from what he'd told her, most people were too scared to try. She thought that the life he'd described sounded so lonely; people always running away screaming as soon as they saw him, never even letting him finish saying 'hello.' Having no one to trust or talk to on equal footing would be isolating, especially over years and years, no matter how powerful he was. The thought of her precious baby suffering that loneliness for an eternity was upsetting. She didn't want to think about the wound he would suffer when it was time for Elida to return to Heaven permanently, but at least she was there for now. He'd have someone to talk to for a few years, and they could continue to write afterwards.
The sleepy little angel plopped back down on her pillow, hiding under the covers. "I'm too cozy to move today," her muffled voice said from beneath the blankets, "I'll be back in a few years."
Alastor pulled the blankets away off Elida's head. "None of that, darling, we have too much to attend to."
Elida responded by pulling the blanket back, this time entrapping Alastor with her. The bedding-cave's interior was well-lit with her divine glow. She whispered conspiratorially, "Do you want me to stall for you or not?"
"What I want is breakfast," he replied, pinching her cheek and throwing the blankets off again. "Now get changed, your dress is wrinkled." He shooed his mother out of the room and turned to face the wall to give Elida some privacy.
She pulled another dress out of her seemingly bottomless pockets and quickly switched outfits, freshening up. This one was nearly identical to the first, if not for the different color. "Done," she signaled to Alastor. He turned around and she did a spin, "Tell me I'm pretty," she ordered jokingly.
"My dear, the mirror does that for you every day, It's hardly new information."
"True," she agreed, flipping her hair across her shoulder melodramatically as she walked out the door to join Mama.
Once again, she asked what she could do to help with the meal, and once again, Mama insisted she sit and relax. Alastor found a radio sitting in the corner and turned the dial, testing out Heaven's stations until settling on some upbeat oldie's channel. He tapped his toes and hummed along as he worked on the bacon. Meanwhile, Mama was bustling about sautéing various vegetables for what turned out to be the best omelet Elida had ever tried.
Alastor savored every moment he could with his mother until it came time to leave. Tragic as it was, their visits could only be brief. Elida did what she could to procrastinate and prolong Alator's time there, but eventually they still had to get back to work. They both hugged her goodbye and tore themselves away with no small amount of willpower, walking through a portal back to the entrance of the archives where the Eternal Flame burned.
The little cherub from the day before tried to hide under the counter when he saw the smiling red demon approaching for a second time, hoping against hope that it hadn't seen him. No such luck.
"Well, hello again my fine fellow!" Alastor greeted cheerfully, the room darkening ever so slightly at his approach, "Quite a pleasure. It seems we'll be utilizing your facilities once again today."
The cherub peeked his head up, shaking and terrified, "D-d-d-don't speak to me, servant of d-d-darkness! I get my orders f-f-f-from Heaven's people. Go back to the pit from whence you came, you vile sinner!" He threw a crumpled piece of paper, which bounced harmlessly off Alastor's chest. His sad attempt at standing up for himself only made Alastor's grin widen sadistically in amusement.
Elida was irritated with how this bigoted little heavenborn was treating her friend, so she chose to get some clear boundaries in place moving forward; "He's a person," she stated with a tone that allowed no room for argument, "and you will treat him as such, is that clear? He can't hurt you up here as long you don't start anything, but if you decide to throw hands out of something so moronic and avoidable as ignorance and fear, then he'll be able to do whatever he likes; and I can assure you, you won't enjoy how that works out. So, if you don't mind, kindly stand up straight and direct us to our computer room. And I don't want to see you dismissing him again, understand? If he gives you an order, act as if it came from me, or else you'll have the misfortune of forcing me to handle your misplaced insubordination myself." Her eyes were bright and almost menacing with the command.
The cherub stared at her with big, confused eyes. Angels and demons were supposed to be natural enemies, what justification could this lady possibly have to not only defend it, but trust it with her own authority? They shouldn't be working together at all, let alone sharing power. If anything, it should be begging for mercy and grace at her holy feet. "But miss… it's a-"
"I know who and what he is," she interrupted, "And I know far more about his situation and nature than you ever could. Now take us to our room and get used to it because we'll be returning periodically for quite some time."
Her voice wasn't unkind, but it wasn't gentle either. Just cold and assertive enough to get the cherub to do what she wanted. She would not be disobeyed. He shut his mouth and awkwardly guided them to their workspace, leaving without another word. The cherub frowned deeply.
Alastor, for his part, liked this version of Elida quite a bit. In Hell, she was so endlessly patient and soft, expecting the people around her to mess up over and over and giving them room to try again. But up here, it seemed she held less room for nonsense. It was fascinating seeing her giving commands in a way that made it feel like refusal was not an option. It reminded him of himself, which in his opinion was high praise. His mind recalled the beautiful yet terrifying visage she'd displayed when stopping the fight between him and Vox. In that moment, she was nothing less than a queen. He wanted to see more of that.
The two of them churned through a few Hazbin residents' contracts, working through each of them line by line. They decided that since they were able to take Alastor's own contract with them back to the hotel, they'd work on other people's while they were in the archives. Alastor didn't want to look at anyone else's until his was done, but he'd agreed to do a job, and by golly he was going to do it.
A few hours later and it was time for a break. They stepped outside for a refreshing walk and chatted casually, steps clicking on Heaven's golden streets until they came across a small vendor selling kabobs. Testing out the flavor, Alastor tilted his head, thinking. The seller, a human angel that didn't seem to notice they were talking to a demon, asked what he thought.
"Less nutmeg, more paprika, and you may want to use a different type of red wine in the rub. I will say, however, that it's cooked to the perfect temperature," he complimented honestly, finishing the first skewer and taking another.
"Good to know, thanks!" The angel didn't seem offended, but rather delighted with Alastor's feedback. "I just died a few weeks ago and have been trying to get this new project started. Supposedly, having something to do can help me adjust to being dead. I had a stand like this before and have been trying to get the recipe right, but something just isn't quite doing it. I'll give your suggestion a try. How long have you been here?"
Alastor grinned, "Oh, about seven years or so, depending on your point of view. Best of luck, chum, I'm afraid I must be off. My companion seems to have gotten a bit distracted."
The kabob seller looked in the direction Alastor indicated, and his eyes dilated, "Oh wow…" he managed to say, going breathless and staring at Elida's fair face. "She's your girl? How'd you manage to pull that?"
Alastor ignored the comment, instead moving to stand behind Elida. She had, in fact, gotten distracted, kneeling down and talking to a little boy in a pink dress. He'd grabbed her by the hand to show her some macaroni project he'd made. She cooed over it like a kindergarten teacher, telling the little boy what a wonderful job he'd done.
The kid noticed Alastor's creepy smile and stared up at him without fear. This was a human child, not a cherub. He must have died young. "Hello, sir!" the boy said, politely, "Look at what I made! Do you like it? You're kind of funny-looking. Are you an angel? Where's your halo? Did it fall off? My Mommy and Daddy don't have halos yet, they're still alive. But it's okay, because I get to grow up here instead of at home. There were a lot of bombs at home. And Daddy didn't let me wear dresses because he said people would be mean to me. But no one is mean to me here. Do you ever wear dresses? I like the ones that floof out when you twirl like this," the little boy offered a demonstration, twirling around and laughing.
Elida gave Alastor a look that basically equated to, "Be nice, it's just a kid," and Alastor decided not to comment on the terrible macaroni art. Alastor didn't particularly like kids, he found them to be obnoxious and simple; but they were innocent souls, the very kinds of people he'd sought vengeance for in his killings. Children like this were the ones he was honor bound to protect, even if he wouldn't let anyone know that. Still, their chattering could get very annoying very fast.
The kid kept going, "I like your antlers and big ears. Do you have a tail, too? I can't tell under the coat. Why is your coat all burnt? Did you get hit by a bomb, too?"
"It's burnt because I'm from Hell," he commented, trying to get a reaction for his own amusement.
"Wooow!" The boy looked at him excitedly, "Are you a demon? I'm not supposed to know about demons, but I overheard a cherub talking about them on my way home from school one time. I've never met a demon before. Did you die, too? Why did you go to Hell? Did you ever kill anyone? Was there lots of blood? There were always people covered in blood back at home."
Elida's eyes crinkled in amusement at the tiny angel's fascination. Childhood curiosity was such an adorable thing.
Alastor responded, "I did! Several someones, in fact," he stated jovially, "There was indeed a great deal of blood much of the time."
"Ewww," the boy giggled, "Blood gets sticky. And it ruins pretty dresses. Well anyway, I gotta go, my auntie will want to see my new art. Bye Mr. Demon!" The little boy flounced up and tried to hug Alastor's leg. Alastor stepped nimbly out of the way and redirected the kid to Elida, who gave the boy a little kiss on the cheek and sent him off, humming and skipping contentedly down Heaven's streets.
"My my," Alastor said, "It's like they have no natural predators."
"Yeah? Because they don't?" Elida stole a bite of Alastor's second kebab, "I think I might need another one of these."
After lunch, they had one last session grinding through contracts. Not too long in and Alastor found a pattern.
"Look here, dear," he showed her a stack of papers, red markings littering the words from his own notes, "You know how Angel Dust was able to up and quit like some regular employee?"
"Yeah," Elida turned from the page she was studying to look where Alastor pointed, "I wondered why he took so long to do it, until I read a book about how tight of a chokehold trauma bonds could have on people."
"Quite right. It seems that Valentino fellow has a habit of including an exit clause in his contracts. It would be an effective strategy to get more people to sign on quickly. I myself have to do a great deal of convincing to get anyone to sign their soul over to me if they know there will be no way out."
"My guess," he continued, "Is that he was so violently angry with you before because your addiction treatments erase the only real thing he's been using to control them; He'd get them to sign their souls away as a form of employment, trick them into being dependent on substances, and make them feel like they have no way out. Eventually, they're so intwined in the lie and the addiction that they entirely forget they have the option to walk away. Often, traffickers in the living world do similar things to force people into submission. Your potions counteract that, which undermines his strategy."
Elida's face lit up excitedly, "Which means," she added, "That anyone owned by Valentino can leave whenever they choose to do so. All we have to do is convince them that they'll be safe when they quit, and that their needs will still be met even without him. Break the trauma bond, and we break their contracts!"
"Precisely. That accounts for how many of our guests?"
"Thirty-three, as of last count," Elida said, "Anthony spread the word about my potions among his friends pretty effectively in his last few weeks at the hotel, and the sex workers who came after him kept that going. Apparently, gossiping on set while waiting for your cue is pretty common."
"I should warn you," Alastor mentioned, "That announcing this publicly, and letting Valentino know you know could have all sorts of consequences. He'd likely view it as a declaration of war. Your new potion factory might mysteriously end up burned to the ground."
Elida thought long and hard about that, tapping her fingers on the table. "There's also the long-term issues," she added. "If they find out what we know, Val might change the contracts he sets up in the future as more sinners die and replace the ones he's losing, which would set us back to square one when they end up in the hotel."
"So, we handle it with kid gloves," Alastor declared, "No one gets to know, and you focus on manipulating them into getting over Val. Eventually, you'll have more redeemed Angel Dusts rising up into the sky and pissing that over-bedazzled insect off."
Elida let out an overtly fake gasp, clutching her chest as if Alastor had said something scandalous, "Me? Manipulative? Never! I'm upfront about everything all the time," She lied, batting her innocent-looking eyes.
"Ha! Sure, darling, whatever you say."
With a plan in place, they finished up their work and Elida set a cherub to the task of scanning their notes into an encrypted file for later. They took their leave, dropping by a lovely little café for dinner. When they were done, they flew on Elida's broom back to the gates, opened a portal to Hell, and stepped through it, returning home to the torturous pit below.
Charlie was waiting for them, an expectant expression on her face. "How did it go?" She asked, "Did you guys find anything… orrrr…?"
"It was an enlightening experience," Elida stated vaguely, sharing a look with Alastor.
"I'll say," he agreed.
"Okay? Enlightening how?" Charlie pressed.
"Don't worry about it," they both said accidentally in unison. They stopped, looking at each other for a moment before sharing a mischievous smile and turning away, walking in separate directions to do whatever it was they did in their spare time.
Charlie groaned in frustration; those two were invaluable to the hotel, but they could both be so mysterious sometimes. Elida might be sweet as sugar, but when she didn't want to tell you something there was no getting it out of her. Alastor was another thing entirely. Charlie may have grown fond of him, but he was still confusing as fuck.
She was glad they were both on her side.