Some time had passed, each group finishing their assortments of riddles that finally drew them back to the lobby of the hotel. The storm had receded and it had gotten pretty late in the evening, Husk and Nifty having turned into their hotel rooms for the night while Cherry made a hasty attempt to leave the premises and return to her own apartment on the other side of Pride Circle. Alastor was the only missing from the band; Cherry had muttered something about him addressing something in his studio before she made her departure.
Charlie and Vaggie were the only ones left in the lobby, both tuckered out and rag dolled on the sofas in the lounge area. The moth laid quiet, her arm draped on the floor and her face smushed into the cushions, seemingly asleep while Charlie was working on undoing her bubble braid and fluffing out her locks, lost in thought.
The silence gave her space to reflect on the stressors that were eating away at the back of her mind. The distraction of their excursions had come to an end and she'd begun to mull over the questions that still didn't have answers. She anxiously gnawed on her lips and picked at the cuticles on her fingers, deep in thought.
"Hey, Charlie? You okay?"
She snapped her attention to the girl who was peering over at her from the other couch, her face still buried into the seat. Vaggie stretched and adjusted her position, sitting up and facing Charlie fully, a spread of concern washing over her as she studied her friend.
"Yeah! This was great! Ah, there's just…," Charlie trailed off, racking her brain to come up with the best way to articulate her thoughts. "I don't want you to feel like I don't appreciate what you did. Tonight was so fun and you've really outdone yourself trying to bring the residents back together after we rebuilt the hotel. But I'm just not…"
Her voice wavered, a ball of disappointment and discouragement forming in her throat. She sucked in a deep breath and shakily let it out as she straightened her back, dropping her shoulders, "I don't know if what I'm doing will change anything." She bit back the ache in her chest that fought so hard to crush her into a flurry of waterworks and looked away from Vaggie, fearful she'd be the catalyst behind another teary episode if she caught her eye.
Vaggie said nothing but got up and sat beside Charlie, embracing her in a tight hug.
The tears came anyway.
Charlie had rubbed her face, her eyes swollen and sore. They both had stayed quiet for some time, letting Charlie catch her breath and calm down after her hefty lament. Vaggie looked at her thoughtfully and pulled away, deciding to get up and grab Charlie some water from behind the bar nearby.
A couple long and painfully tense moments passed, the sounds of Charlie's snuffling and water pouring were all that could be heard in the room. Vaggie came back, offered Charlie the glass and sat, waiting patiently before the princess started hoarsely, "I have to protect my people. I can't give up, no matter how shitty this gets."
She stared down at the cup in her hands, tilting the glass around and watching the water slosh, the reflection of her face distorted in the ripples.
The weight of Hell rested heavily on her shoulders and the drills she had with Alastor drew from her what little energy she had left. Chewed up and spit out from the shame and guilt, forced to continue because they had no other choice: it seemed impossible. But she had support and couldn't afford to push away the helping hands that offered outstretched, no matter how sinister they seemed.
"You know, your dad has seemed to favor this whole hotel thing," Vaggie started cautiously. She began waving her arms to the room around them in an act to placate Charlie who flinched at the thought of relying on her dad, again.
Her father had promised to make an honest effort to be present in her life again. Her mother, demonkind's foundation and leader was still nowhere to be seen or heard. What she could be doing that was more important than protecting her own kind was an enigma that was beginning to weigh in the back of Charlie's mind, a bead of resentment budding at the thought of her mother's perennial absence.
Her eyes drew to the bookshelf near the seating area, rows of old leatherback articles lined neatly together. One of the books stood out, laying upon its side, "The Story of Hell," engraved in gold on the spine.
"I mean, all of Hell knows that they have a chance in the exterminations now, we just need to find a way to get ahold of angelic weapons. Maybe your dad knows more about that since he's, y'know, fallen?"
Charlie nodded her head, her eyes glazing over but still looking towards the shelf beside them.
"You… still haven't heard from your mom," Vaggie asked sullenly.
Charlie bit her tongue, willing herself not to spit out a soured riposte. Instead, she sipped on her water and pushed herself up. The ache of the day's training and the onslaught of tears weighed down on her eyelids and Charlie was beginning to feel sleep drawing its curtains in for the evening.
"I don't think I ever will if she hasn't made an effort to try with the shambles Hell is in now. You're right, I think tomorrow I'll get in touch with him. Carmilla too, I'm sure she's been bombarded with Katie and Tom's reporters trying to get some leads on all of this."
She stifled a yawn and put on a brave face, offering Vaggie a very forced smile before they joined each other in a hug. Vaggie's embrace was like the gathering of a hundred broken pieces being haphazardly glued together.
The ringing in his ears had waned some, his chest heaving as he sat upon the reeds. The blood that coated his body was beginning to dry and coagulate, his hair had matted and stuck to his face in some places while his suit was visibly ruined from the eviscerated deer that laid in a shredded pile nearby him, its entrails spread out glossy in the moonlight.
Alastor licked his lips and picked at his teeth, satiated from the onslaught of anger he'd been itching for since his recent altercation with that heinous cyclops. It had been a while since he'd savored such carnage and let off steam. His usual hunt in the bayou resulted in clean kills, never a required visit to the dry cleaners but tonight was an exception to the rule.
Large tupelo trees littered the waters in the distance, fireflies dancing among the trunks and dotting the scenery around him. The singing of cicadas and frogs filled the air and the deer demon began to make an exit from his manifested realm, passing the boundary into his hotel room moments before the opening sealed itself behind him and silence swept over.
Muffled jazz music played behind one set of walls in his room, his broadcast studio idly playing its nightly show while he was gone on his rampage. He drew himself into the studio, sank down into his swivel chair, sighing and leaning back, his neck falling into the groove on the edge. Throwing his feet upon the dash, he crossed his arms upon his stomach and laced his fingers together. He could see the blood caked on his body, yet he sat in it for a while longer, relishing the carnage he'd brought home and savoring it.
Eyeing the microphone attached to his soundboard, he pulled it towards him and waited for the tune to finish its beat before he flicked on the record switch.
"Thank you for listening to 66.6 DMND, Hell's number one jazz station. We hope you've enjoyed this evening's soundtrack; stay tuned for more of your fan favorites, next, a word from our sponsors. Till next time chums."
He flicked off the switch, the red fluorescents above him humming down as he pushed it away. He picked another long playlist and set up the stream, shuffling the assortment of songs and airing a clip of blood curdling screams he'd saved upon his last murderous rendezvous on his radio broadcast.
His attention drew out over his soundboard and through the glass that looked over the landscape. Streetlights and neon signs dotted the darkness, the bustle of nightlife flooding the streets below now that the acid rain had made its exit. The streets reflected the neon, the city a wash of puddles and color.
Alastor hummed along to the rhythm, ignoring the unease that was budding in his chest. He'd been grounding himself with the sensations from his expedition to drown out the senseless teasing he'd received in the hotel hallways just over an hour ago.
The thing about Angel and his choice of company was they were drama inducing and held space for gossip. Alastor had never allowed himself to ruminate on such driveling, what was it this time that caught him so off guard, made him break his composition and snare him in such fury? Why would the pining of an unimportant bystander fluster him so badly?
He studied the brown crust caked on his coat, looking over the texture in the sediment; he could feel himself getting itchy.
Puzzled and spent on his energy, Alastor threw up his hands and began to peel himself off his chair, making his way to his bathroom to strip himself from the gore that clung to him and to sterilize himself of the evening's events.
Hellish light peeked through the blinds in Charlie's bedroom, forcing her awake. She'd been up and down all night, never getting a restful, worthwhile sleep. Stifling a yawn, she rubbed her eyes and started to get ready for the day ahead.
She donned on a crisp white button-down shirt, tossed on some red trousers and a pair of suspenders. Her hair was still wet from her shower and she left it to air dry as she was antsy to get a hold of some coffee to help kick start her morning.
She quietly shut the door behind her, careful not to wake Angel up. He'd gotten back from his shoot almost an hour before she pulled herself out of bed and she was trying to be considerate.
She took large light-footed strides down to the elevator and eventually moseyed her way into the hotel's kitchen. She smiled upon noticing a fresh pot of coffee had already been made.
She doctored herself a perfect cup and took a large swig, ignoring how it burnt her tongue and scalded her throat.
The princess made her trek out of the kitchen and brought herself back to the lobby, finding Nifty polishing the handrail upon the grand stairway. She caught sight of Charlie, holding up her rag and waving at her in acknowledgement, though she stayed quiet, narrowly focused on scouring her project.
The blonde slowly meandered back to the elevator and took herself to the highest level, a hallway that split off towards her office and to the rooftop balcony. She opted for a quiet visit outside.
Passing the glass doors that welcomed the balcony, she was invited with the cool, crisp morning air that washed over her face. Tables fixed with upholstered booths and chairs were lined in neat rows. Behind the booths was an above-ground garden dotted with vegetation and shrubs that lined the seats. Towards the back, at the end of the balcony where there was a glass railing was her normal preferred spot. Tucked in the corner was a small three-person booth that was guarded by more vegetation, a pleasant and private hangout for her routine morning cup of coffee.
Rounding the corner, she was surprised to see her table was already taken.
Alastor was leaned back, nursing his own cup of coffee while he studied the morning's newspaper. Dark circles hung under his eyes like crescent moons and he held his signature thin-lipped smile. His usual dress coat was missing today, instead he just wore a black button down, slacks and a maroon bow tie. He glanced up when he noticed his company, his ears perked briefly then flicked and laid back casually.
"Well good morning dearest. How are you this hellish morning," he asked in a sing-song voice, raising his cup to her before drawing his attention back to the paper.
"Oh, I'm great. Thanks for the coffee Al, I didn't mean to bother," Charlie backed away, cupping her coffee with both hands and started to turn around, not wanting to intrude on him. The entirety of the rooftop was empty; she could find another spot to lounge.
Alastor put down the newspaper and folded it neatly on the table, "oh nonsense darling, please, sit," he motioned to the booth adjacent to him.
She apprehensively obliged and slid into the booth, her eyes darting to the table. Outstretched before them was a small pile of junk mail, more inserts of the newspaper and an envelope addressed to the radio demon. Charlie's gaze lingered on the tabloid upon seeing Adam's face at the top of an ad.
Alastor had swiped the envelope addressed to him while Charlie pulled the newspaper closer to her, her eyes glazing over at the sight of Adam's snarky expression paired with Vox's logo,
"VOX TECH : ANGELIC SECURITY | WHERE YOUR SAFETY IS GUARANTEED."
There was a pinprick of hurt, tracing back on the feelings of that horrible day. She sipped her coffee and took a deep breath, relishing the fact that the stench of Hell hadn't quite hung over the city just yet, the fresh morning air clearing her lungs and her head from the negativity trying to eat its way in.
She wanted the people of Hell to count on her. She had to prove it to them that she could protect her people. Though she was hesitant to admit, she was surprised that Vox came out with a security feature to help protect the masses; his products were more or less an atrocity made for demonkind so it was a pleasant change from his usual commodities.
At least he was getting somewhere, Charlie was still on the uphill climb in her efforts for self-improvement. Her growth looked like small baby steps in comparison to Vox's latest tech drop.
"Hey Al, when are you free to do another training session?"
The deer demon flicked his ears again and looked over at her from the letter he was reading.
"Well, I've got some errands to run today; seems I've been less than careful with my suits so I'm due for a visit with the drycleaners. Nifty also said something about getting groceries since we had to toss a lot of our stock from the roach infestation in the pantry."
He chuckled, folded up his letter and stuffed it back into the envelope. The faint sound of whirring could be heard in the distance. Past the glass partition, patrolling at the base of the hill near the gated entrance to the hotel was one of Vox's drones. Charlie studied it and sipped on her coffee, lost in thought.
The shrill ring of her phone made her jump, spilling some coffee on herself in the act, "shit!" She shot out of the booth, wiping off the coffee that stained her blouse before checking her phone. It was her dad, the thumbnail of a rubber duck buzzed on the screen.
She offered an apologetic glance to Alastor before turning away and accepting the call.
"Hey Dad!"
"Charlie! Hey, how is uh… how is everything?"
"It's been fine, I guess. Vaggie planned out a fun little group exercise for some of the hotel staff last night so we're a little tired from that but it went great! What's up?"
She waited for a moment; Lucifer hesitated for a couple seconds.
"So, I have a very special surprise for you but it's here at the Palace. When are you, uh, free to come and visit?"
She could hear her dad's voice getting more and more anxious as the call went on but she dismissed it as this was pretty typical behavior from him.
"I'm great whenever," Charlie chimed, curious at the surprise invitation.
"I was actually going to call you anyway to talk about some stuff so this is great timing. What's good for you," the princess continued.
There was a muffled voice on the end of the line and Lucifer came in clear again, "come meet for lunch in a few hours. Say one?"
"Okay!"
"I'll schedule a portal for you. The news has been at my doorstep and I don't want you to have to worry about handling any of that."
Charlie lifted her chin, "oh, don't worry about that! I can do that myself. Should you expect me in the foyer?"
It seemed Lucifer was taken aback as he got quiet on the phone again for another moment.
"That's awesome news Char! Yeah, the foyer is fine, we'll- uh, I'll see you at one."
"Okay," she responded, the call ending before she finished.
She stared at her phone and turned around to finish her coffee with Alastor, but the booth was vacant now and the Radio Demon was nowhere to be seen.