Chapter 9: Swan Lake

I have been alive for a very, very long time.

Sirens and Imps have a long, intertwined history, born together in our shared home to all things sinful. I don't know who decided that we were nothing more than dirt beneath someone's shoe, but it was a common struggle that bonded our species. We were never Hell's favorite and we learned to be okay with that overtime.

Our life expectancy was much shorter too, averaging to grow as old as 35 years old in the beginning. Now, millenniums later, we are lucky to even reach the age of 90, painfully similar to humans.

We were desperate not to be forgotten. We weren't blessed with regenerative abilities the way Sinners were, or immortality as the Sins and Ars Goetia are. We weren't given great power, not anymore, not like in the beginning. We've sort of… devolved in that aspect as time went on. I couldn't say why. Perhaps we were dying too quickly to care for such a thing. The most power an Imp may have today is pyrokinesis, telepathy, and even fewer may have more ancient abilities, like creating illusions. You can usually find the latter in the circus or dead.

Sirens, admittedly, had slightly better luck. They were playful, beautiful, and like Succubi, unafraid to use that to their advantage in an effort to propel a bit further, gain a little more favor, than what their Imp allies believed to be fair. Women were calculating and manipulative in that way. Suddenly they were arrogant, egotistical, vain, dangerous, selfish, and the list goes on. All of which, in their defense, may have been about 90% true. But this is Hell we're talking about. Nothing is fair here, and nothing is without great sacrifice.

That may have been the most beautiful part for those that were blessed with a sisterhood. A Siren's sacrifices are shared. Their justice is shared, knowledge is shared, pain is shared, power is shared.

I was, unfortunately, never part of any sisterhood, always dreaming of it while surviving my 776 years in the Palace of Hell-Antis. I'd been raising myself, teaching myself, spitefully, so as to not become another nameless statistic in Hell's history. I don't know which of my parents I inherited my stubbornness from, but I was grateful for it. For all that I've learned over my long years, even if I learned most of it alone. Without it, I wouldn't have made it to where I am now.

Without it, I wouldn't have been able to kill them all.

It took me eighteen days to find them all, observe, and learn their strengths, weaknesses, and schedules. I didn't tell anyone where I was going or how long I'd be gone. Or if I was ever coming back. I'd left a single note written in my blood from that night on my bedside table, stating that I'd 'gone fishing'. It wasn't a total lie more than it was a vague truth.

It didn't take as long as I thought it would, either. I thought I'd be more rusty and reckless about the operation, but it was almost therapeutic. As angry as I felt at the time, I found an abnormal amount of peace being away from the heavy flow of paperwork and planning I'd grown accustomed to. The chaos of incoming residents and managing the unruly behavior of my fellow demons, the weekly charities to feed the hungry, Charlie's suffocatingly positive attitude, the pressure to be "good", the struggle to hide my feeding. The never-ending frustration of my cursed threads, Alastor's constant pestering of my sanity, Peter's silent hope to be more than what I was capable of giving him. Perhaps I was simply overwhelmed with it all. I was so focused on proving my worth, I'd forgotten Charlie's most valuable lesson of them all.

Self-care.

This time away from the hotel has been nothing short of enlightening. Spilling blood was liberating, especially when it was from someone who deserved it. It was my favorite kind of justice. I came to the realization that there was no point in trying to be a saint if there was nothing in it for me, and I felt that deeply. I was born sinful. And the more I tried to deny that, the less genuine I felt as the days rolled on. I wasn't myself anymore, I was only who I thought Charlie needed me to be. What the Hotel needed me to be. What God maybe wanted me to be. Never what I needed me to be.

So, for a second time in my life, I chose myself. And I ran away, if only temporarily. And I do not regret it.

I took this time to explore both myself and my newly acquired turf, placed beautifully on the very west edge of the Pentagram, right between the district that lived The Hazbin Hotel (I call this the Sanctuary District) and the Cannibal District. Convenient placement, if I do say so myself.

This land's previous owner, Valara, was not originally on my kill list. She was more of a bonus, maybe I got a little greedy, but I can safely say her sacrifice was one that was necessary. I couldn't get to Valentino, my original target. I wasn't yet powerful enough, and I'm still not as powerful as I'd like to be. So I chose to take my anger out on someone else he was in cahoots with, something that would hinder his business in some way from a distance.

She was powerful and beautiful. I would've felt bad for killing her, if she didn't already have a disgustingly long track record of some of the most heinous crimes not even I could think to commit. For a second, I didn't think I'd win the fight. But my Siren heritage continues to save me. With every new, soulful essence came great new abilities, and I was much more cunning than she gave me credit for. In the end, her soul was the most delicious of them all.

As for her previously owned slaves, I freed them all, unknowingly so. Her death broke the chains that bound them to her cruelty, and I gave them three options. They could stay here with me and help turn this dump into a home, they could return with me to the Hazbin Hotel, or they could leave. I didn't care who stayed or went. It's not like I could ever truly own them, anyway, and I didn't want to.

My first few weeks were spent learning the area, introducing myself to the people who inhabited my section of the district, taking note of any other Overlord or powerful beings I shared the district with, and warding off unwelcome guests who tried to take over my little slice of pie. And after that, I spent my time rummaging through my new office for literally anything that would be of use to me. A list of client names, documents of past trades/transactions, itinerary of artifacts, partners, contracts, bank accounts, anything I should be aware of. And everything I found was being changed to my new name: Ophelia.

That was my mother's name.

The only thing I knew of her. The only thing I could love about her, since I didn't have the chance to love her at all.

I planned to make this little corner of the world my own. I felt that I earned it, that it was my right to brand my name in history as more than just someone's maid, someone's slave, someone's whore. Since I was stuck here, I figured I might as well try to make something of myself in this piece of shit town. Earn the respect I felt I didn't get enough of, maybe use this new surge of power to help those like myself. Hybrids, Imps, any other Hellborn demons, even the Sinner's down on their luck and who didn't care for Charlie's vision, but still needed a home. Perhaps, finally, developing a sisterhood of my own.

I fantasized of being in a strong partnership with other powerful names, working together to make this side of Hell a little better than the rest. Her Majesty owed me nothing, of course, but I'd done all this work for her to get her business up and running in a short amount of time when she desperately needed it. When we all needed it. Surely, it wasn't too outlandish for me to create a business for myself too, yes?

For fucks sake, I killed an Overlord. That was no easy feat. I must be rewarded for that, if absolutely nothing else.

A soft knock interrupted my thoughts and I looked up to see Lazarus standing in the open doorway of my office. She was a Gargoyle Demon who was among the many slaves I'd freed. It was thanks to her kindness that I was well situated in my new territory during the last two months, helping me get adjusted to everything and seemingly looking for someone to follow. I wasn't sure if I was comfortable with people looking up to me yet when I was so used to being looked down upon. I doubt the rest of Hell would be accepting of a hybrid having such a high title, whether I deserved it or not.

"My apologies, my lady. May I speak with you for a moment?"

My Lady… That honorific was music to my ears.

I grant her permission with a nod before going back to writing my letter. "You may."

I'd long since learned to control my newly developed telekinesis ability with the help of another demon here. Her name was Daphney, and she was of the few demons that were more grateful than afraid of me, and therefore willing to teach me all the neat tips and tricks it would have taken me longer to figure out on my own. She taught me how to move things with my mind, how to project my thoughts to another being, how to reach into another's mind to read their thoughts, how to change their perception. And these were just "the basics". When I got the hang of it, I decided I'd only use this ability to its full extent here, and that I would not take this or any other new abilities gained through my hunt back with me.

It wasn't that I didn't trust them, but the less they knew what I was capable of, the better. I had the upper hand in that way, the element of surprise, and I needed to keep whatever advantages I had to myself. I thought it was a good way to keep me humble and to keep my enemies guessing. I love the terror on their pitiful faces when they realize they've underestimated me. Because in the eyes of the public, I was no Overlord. I wasn't even sure if that's what I wanted to be. As far as anyone knows, my job was that of servitude to Charlie. I was but a lowly maid who worked at the Hazbin Hotel. Nothing more.

It was bad enough I was missing during such a rampage throughout the ring. The news did not go unnoticed by Peter or Katie. All deaths were reported with similarities to the livestock massacre in the Wrath Ring spread like wildfire, and it was big news considering this was a killing that they could not regenerate from. The only thing known to have an effect like that was angelic weapons, which I only used for the disgusting swine, Darius.

The most notable report being Valara's absence, as she was (correctly) presumed dead. That's when misinformation spread of my new turf being up for grabs, and it forced me to paint the floors red. Over the weeks, the amount of people who showed up lessened when they realized those who made their way in never found their way back out. Their souls weren't worth absorbing, but I couldn't let them live either.

"I've spread word of your departure," she reported. "Only 77 will be joining you. The other 204 have chosen to stay behind. The rest have left entirely."

"Thank you, Lazarus. You've helped me a lot these last few weeks." I expressed my gratitude. "Will you be joining us?"

"If it's alright with you, my lady, I will stay here with the others."

"Then I have a job for you."

"For me," she asked quickly, nervously. I liked her urgency, even though it was partially due to fear. I liked that I scared her, but I didn't want her to be afraid of me.

"I need someone to look after this place while I'm gone. I will only be able to visit once a week for now," I explained. "I am trusting you to look after everything while I'm gone."

She blinked for a moment and I could tell she was confused. "Me?"

"Of course. I need help and people I can trust."

"You… trust me?"

"I'd like to." I pick up a hidden jar from the floor and place it on the desk. Valara's head floated lifelessly inside of it, spinning in a slow circle after being shaken about in the brine. Hers was the only body I kept. I neatly folded my letter in a midnight blue envelope, sealing it shut with hot silver wax. A beautifully scripted letter "O" surrounded by an equally beautiful border of my favorite flower, Lilith of the Inferno Valley, decorates the center. Beautiful.

"Consider this as your opportunity to prove yourself. And if you're smart, you'll prove me right." I meet Lazarus' yellow eyes and tap the glass with my long, black claws. I wear no gloves here. I want to stain everything I touch here. "You're a smart girl, aren't you, Lazzie?"

I can smell her fear before she has a chance to show it in the widening of her eyes and the shake of her voice. "Ye… yes, my lady."

I smiled, gently setting the letter on the lid of the jar. Other jars throughout the room with other body parts and organs sat pickling in a homemade brine I made when I found the kitchen. A gift I'd later order to have shipped to our neighboring Overlord, Rosie, in Cannibal Town. Good manners, you know.

"Thank you for making this easy for me. I'll meet you and the other's out front in just a moment."

With a quick bow, Lazarus is off to meet with her peers. I had written a list of things I wanted completed by my next arrival, all with different instructions on how to go about doing each task. I didn't want anyone to have to reach out to me in confusion about anything, unless it was an emergency.

I sighed, feeling fulfillment in my new journey of self-discovery. I caught a glimpse of someone I didn't recognize in a nearby mirror and I faced them head on, willing her into existence.

My hair never went back to its natural color after I left. White locs now decorated around my broken horns in a messy bun, with a few draped over my bare, midnight blue, now feathered shoulders. The lighter, bioluminescent blue ends of my hair contrasted with my wings, which had now become feathered as well. I wore a simple but elegant iridescent black halter dress with a deeply open back and two daringly high slits in the front.

My eyes were the only thing that looked familiar. Except… except not. No, they were different, too. Not as lifeless. There was a bit of shine in them. There was purpose in them.

I felt beautiful, sexy even. Absorbing those souls changed me, inside and out. I was… reborn.

I wondered how the hotel was holding up; if it fell apart or continued to thrive, despite my absence. I wondered if anyone missed me while I was gone, if Angel was still there. Or if they would be happy to see me again, even if I looked different now. Or if they would be mad at me for leaving unannounced with a nothing but a shitty note on the table and a broken TV and-

A sudden wave of panic crashes into me as I realize I'd left the tape in the VCR. The catalyst that drove me to murder all those demons in the first place. Evidence.

Fuck.