It wasn't everyday that Stella found herself amidst such filth.
On the other side of her pristine walls, the repugnant filth of Pentagram City ran wild, their barbarity leveling what could have been a wonderful urban center. No wonder the nobility had fled.
Anthron and Tralix had long since left to attend to their own duties. Stella didn't need them. Not yet. Pensively, she tapped her fingers on the top of the conference table as she waited for information from Vox.
Hours passed before that godforsaken television-head poked his head through the door.
"Hey, you," Vox said with his deep and commanding voice, "We've got something."
"Where?" Stella asked.
"Come with me."
Vox led her down the hall and towards a large room full of glowing screens. She closed the black door behind her and pulled up a chair to a set of monitors.
Anthron, Tralix, and Valentino sat adjacent to her. Their faces were partially illuminated by a neon blue glow, eyes fixated on the largest of the monitors. Anthron nodded to acknowledge her before Vox took out a remote.
"We found her on the east side of Pentagram City," Vox said as he pressed the play button, "There was a riot downtown after Zeezi's assassination. Somehow, that BITCH got involved."
Her vision blurred with rage as the image of her battered daughter appeared on screen. She walked with a heavy limp and patches of blood leaking through that trashy hoodie she wore. The frayed strings of her beanie clung to her scalp as Octavia struggled, bobbing up and down like a buoy on a stormy sea.
For a moment, Stella pitied Octavia. The poor thing shriveled in the cold, away from the safety of their palace back home. Such a cowardly and peasant-esque manner was unbecoming of a soon-to-be bride.
Her sympathy evaporated shortly thereafter. Octavia had chosen to run away, playing with their family name like it was some sort of toy. That brat had been pampered for her entire life. If her father wouldn't punish her, then the filth of the outside world would do it for him. Each scar would serve as a mark of her insolence. If Stella had known what was coming, she would have given her more than just a bruise to cover up.
She grinded her teeth beneath a closed beak. Anthron, Vox, and Valentino looked at her for feedback.
"I've deployed all of our soldiers to the Financial District," Valentino said, "They'll find her, and we can get back on track."
"Good," Stella said, fixing herself and maintaining her rigid posture, "Make sure Stolas hears nothing of this."
"He won't. We've got bigger problems on our hands, anyways."
"That being?"
"With Zeezi dead, there are rumors that an overlord tried to kidnap Octavia, and that's why she went missing. Even if those aren't true, our next moves are going to be very, very important."
Vox nodded, "You know what they say about a house divided against itself?"
"That it cannot stand?" Anthron added.
"Well, we've got the fucking wrecking ball."
"I like the way you think," Valentino said, standing up and placing a hand on Vox's shoulder, "There were too many overlords around here anyways."
Anthron suddenly shook his head, "I'm not following."
Stella chuckled. She knew exactly where it was heading.
"You don't have to," Stella said, "You do your part, and we'll do ours."
"What about your daughter?" he asked.
Stella waved him off.
"Come with me," Valentino said as he picked up a bottle of wine and guided them towards the back door, "We can talk in private."
Anthron stood up, but Valentino pushed him back.
"You stay here and get ready for the marriage," Valentino chuckled, "Let us do the heavy lifting."
There was no response. He exchanged a wave with Stella before she disappeared behind the door.
"Alright," Stella sighed, "I think I have a few ideas…"
-o
-o
"I…I thought you were dead!"
Octavia found herself cornered against the bathroom wall as Alastor barreled down on her, still damp from her bath.
"Funny how things work out," Alastor chuckled, his imposing presence emitting a green glow as he blocked the door to the bathroom, "Now, about that deal…"
"What do you want?" Octavia barked, "I can't get you anything!"
Her throat constricted as she tried to get her words out, the cold hand of fear on her windpipe. All she could do was try to appease the monster as she clutched the sides of the robe like a security blanket.
"Oh, but I think you can," he said, voice distorted by static, "Don't act like you don't know."
Octavia sincerely didn't know. She racked her brain for some sort of answer, but had no idea what somebody as lowly as herself could do for a man as powerful as Alastor. A thread off of his jacket was worth more than her family name. Alastor was untouchable; a demon cloaked in legend. No altar could do his power justice. Sometimes she wondered if he was more powerful than Lucifer himself.
"I…I really don't," Octavia said, attempting to flatten her expression.
"They say eyes are windows to the soul," Alastor said slyly, "And yours are crystal clear. That face won't fool me, Ms. Goetia. The sooner we discuss this, the sooner we can both go our separate ways."
He extended his hand. Octavia backed up as far as she could, her shoulder crying out in pain as she hit the wall behind the bathtub.
"You're awfully close to that Anthron fellow," Alastor chuckled, "I'm not going to pretend to understand young love. It bores me. No, no, no. What I REALLY care about is his father. You might know him?"
How did Alastor know about that? As far as Octavia knew, the marriage was still fresh news, hardly a day old. She shook her head in disbelief. Attempting to calm herself with deep breaths was futile, with each inhale causing her lungs to brush against her bruised ribs, the sensation suffocating her the longer she remained in place.
"How do you know about that?!" Octavia asked.
"I have my ways," he chuckled, "Now, am I going to have to rip your soul apart, or are we going to make a deal?"
Hell's recent history was filled with disappearing overlords. Coincidentally, those disappearances overlapped with Alastor's rise as an overlord, with their screams piercing his broadcasts as they were cast into eternal agony, ripped ethereally bit by bit across the immortal plane.
Her lips flapped to save her soul, "Um…sure…what's the deal?"
"I need you to do a bit of spying for me," Alastor chuckled, "Anthron's family has been making a ruckus in Hell for quite awhile now. I'd do it myself, but as you told me, most of Hell believes me dead! All I want to do is pay them a little visit, and take back what they owe me."
"I…I don't know if I can be as useful as you think…" Octavia said, "I don't even want to marry him."
"From what I'm told, you don't get much of a choice. You know what they say? 'When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade'?"
"And…what's your end of the deal? Isn't that how this works?"
"Well, let's just say that I have some information regarding your father and his lover. I know he has that Asmodian crystal, and I don't think Lucifer would be very happy if he found out about your father's involvement. He could have some trouble on his hands. You wouldn't want anything bad happening to your daddy, now would you?"
Dammit. Octavia could hardly stomach the thought of her father facing Hell's high court. Anger still boiled at the thought of his name, but even Octavia could see that he didn't deserve double-damnation.
"If that's not enough," Alastor added, "I can happily add your soul to my collection, although I don't think that would be very fun for you."
"U-Um, can I have a moment to think?"
"Sure, why not? I've got all the time in the world!"
Octavia sat down at the edge of the tub as it slowly drained. Alastor watched her, no amount of cloth or walls able to shield her from his piercing eyes. He lightly hummed showtunes as she deliberated.
Shaking Alastor's hand would solidify her return to Anthron, and place her under a contract that would put her entire family in danger, along with herself. The alternative would likely end the same way. That fucker had a way of getting what he wanted no matter what.
He had her right where he wanted her.
She glanced at the draining tub, and then at a hairdryer resting atop the vanity. There was just enough water left for her to shock herself if she needed to. The tub had an outlet above it, probably meant to serve as a phone charger, only a foot or so above the waterline. Her heart pounded like a bass drum on steroids. She would do anything to make it stop.
The thought was stopped in its tracks. Alastor would probably have a way to bring her back and torment her if she killed herself. No matter what, she was a pawn in his sick game, pulled back and forth like a carrot on a stick. Asking had been nothing more than a formality.
Octavia hung her head in shame.
"Are you done yet?" Alastor asked, "I'm a busy man, you know!"
"Yes, I am," she replied shakily, "I'm going to take the deal."
"Can we shake on it?'
The green glow nearly blinded her as his hand hung only a few inches from her face.
"ALASTOR! STOP!" a voice suddenly cried.
Alastor's fingers were interlocked with Octavia's one flick of the wrist away from sealing their deal and sending them forth on the path of extortion.
Turning around, Octavia saw three faces standing in the doorway: Charlie, Moxxie, and his wife, the name of whom she had forgotten.
Alastor's head cocked in surprise as his smile became strained, "Charlie, my dear! Why the surprise?"
Walking up to the figure and pointing at him angrily, Charlie's face contorted into a scowl.
"No, no, no," she said, "You're not dragging Octavia into one of your deals. She's having a hard enough time as it is."
"Ahh, but you promised me that you'd do me a favor!" Alastor said.
Charlie paused to think, "I already did that, remember? No one but us knows you're still alive!"
"You brought company. Impish company. It's no longer our secret."
"You guys won't tell, right?"
The imps nodded.
"Great," Charlie said, "Now, let Octavia go. I don't even want to think about what you want out of her, but you're not going to get it that way. If that's okay?"
The princess's cowardly nature pushed her backwards. Alastor hardly reacted to her presence, Octavia's eyes opening wide in fear as Charlie slowly backed away. She was the second-most powerful creature in the realm. What the hell was she doing?
"Fine," the man sighed, "Have it your way. Just know, Charlie, that you're getting in the way of something."
"Well, I don't want to get in the way," Charlie said, "But…come on. This whole thing feels like extortion."
"Definitions are subjective."
Still having the last word, Alastor vanished into thin air, giving Octavia one final wave goodbye as he did so. He disappeared with a flash of green.
The insanity of her situation was not lost on her. Octavia sat down on the ground and rested against the bathroom wall, the drain to her right letting out a gurgle as the last of the bathwater disappeared into the bowels of the hotel.
Next thing she knew, Octavia's face was in her hands. Something leaked from her eyes and dampened her palms. Footsteps hustled over to comfort her, but by that point she had tuned them out.
That voice would haunt her until the day she died. He spoke to her with such a cheery demeanor whilst threatening some of the worst fates imaginable to man. Even in his absence, she could feel his eyes watching her, viewing her from some plane beyond her comprehension. Goetia magic was useless against him. The best she could do was blind him with a flash of starlight.
Octavia quickly sniffled and pulled herself together. By that point, the others had swarmed her like flies to a corpse, staring at her as if she had a second head.
"What are you looking at?!" Octavia snapped.
She opened her mouth to come up with another retort, but found herself coming up empty.
"Come on," Charlie said, pulling her up by her good arm, "Let's get you some actual clothes."
No longer did she possess the will to fight. Instead, she closed her eyes and bit the bullet, following the trio as they escorted her to a large closet. Charlie handed her a sweater and jeans somewhere along the way. The fabrics were more than uncomfortable, but she found herself distracted by the static in her mind, that terrible voice following her wherever she went.
Charlie brought the group into the foyer and had the bartender hand out glasses of water. Her vision blurred as she took a sip. It felt as if she were floating, no longer in control of her own body as her soul fought to free itself from its sorry vessel.
A heavy silence hung over their heads as Octavia sealed her lips.
What was there to say? Turmoil followed her like a lost puppy, with marriage somehow no longer the worst prospect on the table. Regret filled her as her mind flashed back to the hairdryer in the bathroom. One flip of a switch could have put an end to her suffering, praying for some release into the eternal darkness.
"What did he say to you?" Charlie finally asked, "You don't have to tell me, but it would help us if we knew."
Her heart was heavy. She weighed her options, and came to the conclusion that flapping her lips couldn't possibly make anything worse.
In front of her sat Charlie, while Moxxie and his wife were on either side of her, like an angel and a devil on her shoulder, except both of them were devils.
"He threatened me and my entire family if I didn't spy on my soon-to-be husband's family," she grumbled, "And that's a whole other can of worms."
"So…" Moxxie said awkwardly, "Millie, this is Octavia. She's…our little secret…"
Millie. A southern name. Unexpected for somebody like Moxxie, but by that point, nothing could surprise her.
"Husband?" Millie asked, "Aren't you like…a teenager?"
"Twenty," Octavia replied flatly.
"Care to explain some of that?" Moxxie asked hesitantly.
Although his voice ignited flames on the side of her face, Octavia continued. Somebody had to know her story if Alastor ended up killing her.
"I'm from the Ars-Goetia house," Octavia spat, uttering the name as if it were a curse, "You all know that. Our family has had some trouble lately, mostly thanks to my dad's affair and my mom's bitchiness. Somewhere along the way, they met with a royal consultant and decided that I had to be married off. Sold like a fucking toy."
Images from the previous night's dinner flashed before her eyes.
Octavia continued, "Last night, my family broke the news. I'm marrying Anthron Interitus, some prick from around here whose dad is some big-shot overlord around here."
"...Valentino," Charlie chimed in, "And the Vees…"
"Yeah, whatever. Those ones. Anyways, the son's a prick, and my family is doing jack-shit, so I booked it. I hopped on a bus for Pentagram City at around six this morning."
She stopped as the horrific pictures from that bus ride flashed across her mind. They hit her like punches to the face, phantom bullets piercing her skin and bringing back the sting. Horrid, wretched cries of dying demons drowning out the music overhead. The cushion of the couch matched the material on the bus. Her hand gripped the armrest just as she had gripped the railing that fateful morning.
Somewhere along the way, she must have zoned out, with Moxxie snapping his fingers at her a few seconds later to get her attention.
"You alright?" Moxxie asked.
Octavia shook her head and rubbed her face, "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine."
"Really?"
"Did I ask you?"
Her breath hitched, allowing Octavia a moment of reprieve before continuing her tale of woe.
"Some overlord died this morning," she continued, cursing herself for her stiff narration, "Zeezi, I think. There was a riot, and my bus got caught up in it. Everyone on that bus died except for me. I watched them get ripped apart…"
Nobody dared to interrupt her as she trailed off again. Damn it, Octavia, she thought to herself. How could she call herself a demon if she couldn't handle a little gore?
Her throat tightened. No amount of air could keep her voice from breaking, vocal cords struggling to carry her weakened breaths.
"Before the riot, I heard about the hotel on the radio, one of those annoying fucking ads. No offense. We were already in the financial district, so I came here. That's when he found me," She pointed to Moxxie before mumbling to herself, "It couldn't have been anyone else?"
Her captive audience sat in silence, their gazes dancing past her as she watched contemplation swim behind their pupils.
Octavia wasn't sure what to make of their presence. On one hand, they annoyed the hell out of her, buzzing around her subconscious like a mental mosquito. On the other hand, she was an estranged royal with nowhere else to go. Charlie had opened her doors and given Octavia five-star refuge. No longer could Octavia look her in the eyes. Her stomach twisted at the prospect of staying another night, and yet, there was a certain comfort in company.
Fans whirred overhead and blew cold air down into Octavia's still-drying hair. Alastor's appearance had prevented her from fully drying off, an uncomfortable dampness soaking through her clothes. The smell of desserts and velvet carpeting filled her nose as she waited for one of the others to say something. Only the clinking of glasses at the bar dared to break the silence.
"I'm sorry about that," Moxxie said, "That's terrible."
Empty sympathy would do nothing to fix her problem. Octavia had already spilled her guts to him. The least he could do was give her some silence. Her desire for feedback evaporated at the sound of his voice.
Octavia could feel the tears welling in her eyes.
It had only taken twenty-four hours for her life to completely fall apart. Her family was either rooting against her, or at the very least, getting in the way. Grotesque images of death flashed whenever she closed her eyes. The last hints of cigarette smoke hung in her mouth like a death rattle, recalling the horrific death of the cigarette man. All the while, a wretched husband waited in the shadows, and an omniscient demon watched from beyond the ethereal plane. No walls could shield her. No demon could help her.
A single sob escaped her mouth. She felt a hand resting on her right shoulder, definitely belonging to Moxxie. His touch was hesitant. His fingers hardly touched her, only the tips making contact.
Personality aside, Moxxie wasn't Anthron. He seemed hesitant about placing his hands on her. Octavia found comfort in that hesitation. To her, it demonstrated a certain level of empathy, attempting to console her in the only way that he could. A warm hand was better than a warm coffin.
She tried to muffle her sobs. Honestly, she wasn't sure where they were coming from. Crying wasn't going to make anything better, nor did she believe it would provide her with the catharsis she desired. The waterworks started without her control. She continued to reprimand herself for her weakness, damning her own name as those piercing gazes were almost certainly still on her. Pull yourself together, she thought, over and over again.
"I'm sorry," she stammered, sharp inhales interrupting her speech, "I don't know what's going on…"
Instead of going off on some tangent like he always did, Moxxie rested more of his hand on her good shoulder.
"Are you okay with this?" Moxxie asked.
Octavia gave a weak nod.
Each sob put strain on her bad shoulder. Octavia placed more weight than she would have liked on Moxxie, trying to relieve the strain. He annoyed her to no end. Yet, in that moment, she clung to him like a lifeline, desperate for a friendly face.
"I can't even begin to understand what you're going through," Moxxie sighed, "I can try, though. I mean. was just fired from my only job, and Blitz will probably never want to see me again. I've been dealing with his bullshit for years now. Maybe it's time I took a break. You and I both know how he can be sometimes, right?" He paused, as if second-guessing what he was saying, "I-I don't mean to get off-topic. I just want you to know that someone else here knows what it's like when life goes down the toilet, you know? Everybody needs a good shoulder to cry on. Even royalty."
Damn that voice. It still had that grating quality, but the softness of his inflection created a feeling of safety that Octavia hadn't felt in a long, long time.
Speech wracked by sniffles, Octavia stammered, "You know, I always thought this stuff would get easier as you get older. What are you, forty?"
"Twenty six."
"Oh…"
"I'm going to have a word with Alastor," Charlie said sternly, standing up from her seat as Octavia slowly pulled herself back together, "He won't be able to hurt you. Not if I have anything to say about it."
Charlie walked away and vanished into a backroom. That left Octavia alone with Moxxie and Millie, wiping the last of her tears from her eyes.
"You poor thing," Millie said, her southern accent elongating the vowel sounds.
Moxxie turned his head, Octavia slowly backing off of him as regret filled her.
She hated the idea of being a "poor thing." Octavia wasn't some helpless thing shivering in the cold, although she appreciated the sentiment.
"This also might be a good time to tell you," Millie said softly, "Your dad…he's looking for you."
Octavia scoffed, "If he wanted to see me again, he shouldn't have sold me off."
She rubbed her temples and leaned back on her seat. The sharp pain of the wound continued to stab at her, unable to fully relax as she maintained tension on her left side. Water had done little to wash away her sins. The angry scrapes soon returned to their angry red as they bled again.
"How do you know?" Moxxie asked.
"Blitz called me on my way here," Millie said, her voice deepening at the mention of that name, "He told me that Stolas called him for help, and that he might need me, too."
"What did you say?'
"He didn't really give me a chance to say much of anything, Mox."
"Did he say anything about me?"
"I mean, he did, but it wasn't very nice…"
Octavia's head spun at the prospect of a search. With her parents in-the-know, it was only a matter of time before news of her disappearance broke. All of Hell would be looking for her before sunrise tomorrow.
She turned to Millie, "You can't tell them that I'm here, okay? Please."
The time for anger was gone. Millie was there to stay, and like it or not, she had been let inside without any input from Octavia. Her heart pounded against her battered chest with each second of silence that followed. Her fugitive status would be determined by how well that southern belle could keep a secret.
Softly, Millie shook Octavia's right hand and grinned, "Your secret is safe with me, hun. I won't say a word."
"What if Blitz needs you?" Moxxie asked, "What are you gonna tell him?"
"Nothing. That's what."
"What if he finds out? Look at what he did to me! He's gonna kill you!"
"Oh, please. With his attention span? All I gotta do is find a horse-shaped cloud, and he'll be running like a prairie dog!"
"You're not wrong…"
A sigh of relief was more than called for. Octavia was still six-rings deep in her own personal hell, but with her location secret and Charlie negotiating for her, she would allow herself to rest for the night and put off worrying for the next day.
"Thanks, guys," Octavia said as she slowly rose to her feet, "Is there a balcony around here?"
Moxxie nodded, albeit hesitantly, "Yeah, take the elevator. It's on the fifteenth floor. Why?"
"Stargazing. That's all."
"Are you sure you want to do that? There could be people looking for you out there!"
"I won't be long, old m-"
She paused.
"I won't be long, Moxxie. I can do this by myself."
Moxxie nodded, "Alright. But if you don't come back, we're gonna come looking for you."
"Deal."
She hobbled to a nearby elevator, where the spider-demon from earlier dragged himself out.
"Outta my way, bitch," the demon grumbled, "I've got places to be."
The inside of the elevator was coated in a polished brown wood, paired with a black carpet on the ground. Various religious symbols lined the insides of the walls. Octavia was able to make out a cross, the Star of David, and an an-najma. She pressed her weight along a golden railing as she pressed the illuminated "15" on the console.
An air-freshener above her head puffed in ten-second intervals. Her hand ran along the soft, almost cold metal of the railing. The upward force of the elevator caused her stomach to lurch slightly. Years of rides at Loo-Loo Land had left her with surprisingly little stomach strength, although that could have been the ibuprofen.
Eventually, the elevator dinged, and Octavia stepped out onto a cement staircase towards the aforementioned balcony.
The top of the hotel was significantly less picturesque than the first floor. She could make out the night sky and the platform through a large window directly ahead of her. A hallway filled with empty rooms accompanied her as she passed by, their doors just as pristine as they had been the day of their creation. Cobwebs shot out from corners in the crown molding as Octavia took shallow breaths of the stale air.
At the end of that hallway was the door. Octavia gently pressed it open, greeted by the cold, dry breeze of the city.
Over the edge was a fifteen-story drop. The heavy winds whipped at her mercilessly from that height, Octavia having to squint her eyes to make out the sky above.
To her, the cosmos were a land of wonder. It grounded her in reality. Somewhere up there, for all she knew, there were a billion other Hells, or worlds that were similar to it. The vastness of the universe made her seem small in comparison. All of her problems were contained on the pale red dot that was Hell. To the rest of the universe, her problems weren't even a billionth of a billionth of a percent.
The city lights drowned out most of the stars. She directed her attention to the northeast, where she recalled reading that two planets were set to align with each other within the week. Her eyes landed on the two specs. Octavia quickly identified them as Venus and Mars.
At first, all she could see was Venus, its brightness comparable to that of a star. Some called it "Earth's evil twin" due to their similarity in size but vast difference in composition. It drifted across the sky at a snail's pace, the thick haze of city lights creating a hue that almost blocked it from her view.
Mars crossed its path a few seconds later. It approached like a bad omen, meant to dethrone that goddess of love from her throne and take its spot in the sky.
Closer.
Closer.
She had no idea how long she waited until the two planets finally crossed each other, offset by the rising just-past-Waning-Gibbous moon that rose behind her.
That was enough stargazing for a night. By that point, the nightlife of the city was crawling out from under the gutters in which they resided, the screams of gangsters filling the streets as Octavia quickly retreated inside.
She locked the door behind her and approached the elevator, and quickly found herself back in her bed. The night was long, Octavia tossing and turning uncomfortably to the thoughts of the celestial war between Venus and Mars.