[A note from the Author: If you're enjoying the story, please consider leaving a review. It does wonders for my motivation. Special thanks to Ezra Peregrine for beta-reading and helping brainstorm, I have a lot of big plans for this plot.]
Elida saw Alastor's mood shift, and discreetly turned to look at the subject of his anger. There he was. Vox himself. Elida had seen internet posts and advertisements with his face plastered all over Hell, especially the closer you got to their big ugly tower. She wondered what type of person he was under the flashing lights and propaganda. Lucifer had been a sweetheart. Who knows what Vox was? She hoped he wasn't anything like his friend Valentino.
He was unaccompanied, and he was making his way straight for Alastor and Elida when some unknown cannibal boy in a green suit stopped him, going in for a handshake. Vox didn't want to talk to this man, but it was rude to blow someone off, and he had to play by the social rules if he didn't want to get kicked out early. Rosie was looking right at him.
"Mr. Vox, sir! It's an honor to meet you in person. I must admit, I am quite a fan. Say, I heard about that trouble with your associate. Valentoni, was it? Shame about all that."
"Valentino," Vox corrected, annoyed. He kept a pleasant but very fake corporate smile on his screen. "And who might you be?"
"Sir Franklin, at your service," the man removed his hat and bowed. "I wonder if you might save me a dance this evening. Perhaps a waltz?"
Vox had no choice but to accept, writing Sir Franklin's name on a word document inside his memory card to keep track. He likely wouldn't be the only person roping Vox into an extra dance before the night was out. "I suppose I'll see you for song two then. Now, if you'll excuse me," He nodded politely, and extracted himself from the interaction, looking straight forward to make it as hard as possible for anyone else to make eye contact before he'd reached his target.
"Madame Ambassador," He called when he was close enough to get away with it, "Vox. You may remember me from our correspondence earlier. It's a pleasure to finally meet you." He intentionally didn't give Alastor a second glance, which was obscenely difficult. Damn, why did that old asshole have to be so fucking hot? He and the ambassador both smelled like the aquarium his nanny would take him to when he was a kid. How odd. How did he even remember something like that?
"Might I steal you for a few moments?"
Alastor's grip on Elida tightened, but she gave him a reassuring smile and removed her arm, offering a delicate hand to Vox. He took it and kissed it, "My, aren't you a work of art. Hell surely is a more beautiful place with you in it." Before she could pull away, he hooked her arm in his and began walking. Elida let him. Alastor was ready to maim the man but had to maintain a composed smile. His eye twitched.
"I'll be back for our first dance in a few moments, my friend," He stated, static interference increasing in his irritation. He made damn sure Vox heard him call her friend, before turning away and making his way toward Rosie, just to remind everyone how close the two of them were. That frivolous sack of wires would remember his place.
"I was surprised to receive your message," Elida said, taking advantage of the opportunity, "Were you planning on coming before you knew I'd be here?"
"I confess, I was hoping for a chance to talk with you. You've made quite a stir in the month since you arrived." This would do it; The perfect segue, "Perhaps we could get to know each other a bit over a dance or two?" He looked at her expectantly.
She tilted her head sweetly, "That would be lovely, Mr. Vox." She held up her dance card and let him write his name down. He took the only two spots left. She'd filled up fast.
"Please, just Vox to you."
"As you say."
"Have you put any thought into my offer? We'd be honored to have you on set."
"I've thought about it. I wonder if we could put a pin in that idea, though. I'd love to explore that possibility when I'm better settled, but I haven't been here very long, and I don't want to bite off more than I can chew. There are only so many hours in the day. You understand, I'm sure, as a businessman yourself."
He pretended not to hate that answer, but it wasn't the end of the world. The ratings he'd get with her on the air would be great, but the main purpose of messaging her in the first place had been to open a dialogue. He could wait. "Of course, I absolutely get it. You're an important woman. Maybe we could-"
Vox was interrupted by Rosie, standing up on a pedestal with a microphone in her hand. The room hushed, all eyes turning toward her. Alastor was standing nearby her, still smiling, his cannibal fangirls draped around him, likely trying to get him to ask them for a dance.
Rosie began her greeting, "Thank you everyone for coming to the Cannibaltown Anniversary Ball. We have some very special guests with us this evening. You all know Princess Charlie Morningstar," She gestured to Charlie, who waved awkwardly at all the staring eyes. "She led us into battle and saved countless lives last extermination day. Let's give her a hand!"
The crowd clapped and cheered with gusto. Vox saw that Elida was clapping, too. He wondered just where she really stood on the topic of extermination. When the crowd quieted again, Rosie continued, "Thanks to her efforts, Heaven saw fit to send us one of their own in a bid for peace: Ambassador Elida McCarthy. Now I want you all to make her feel very welcome. I've met with her, and she's simply a peach, not like those exorcists whose asses we kicked! Cannibals and cannibettes, let's show her some love." The crowd once again clapped politely, albeit not as enthusiastically as they had with Charlie.
Rosie didn't want to take too long chattering, so she finished with, "Well I won't bore you with the same old history monologue my ex-husband used to do." The crowd laughed. "We'll start things off, shall we? Dancers, find your partners. Maestro, do your thing!"
Alastor appeared out of the shadows. "Shall we, darling?" He held out a hand, snickering at the way Vox tried not to jump, and failed miserably.
Vox noticed how Elida's smile grew brighter as she took the Radio Demon's hand, tucking her wings away and letting him lead her off to the dance floor. They were getting too close too fast, and Vox wasn't sure exactly what he could do about it. If Alastor succeeded in the same goal Vox was going for, the Vees were done for. All the tech in the world couldn't stop an entire army of exorcists indefinitely, even if they weren't as impossible to kill as everyone originally thought. He had to find an angle that Alastor couldn't match.
When everyone was in position, the music began, and Alastor led Elida through the now familiar movements. She was grateful for every painstaking hour they'd spent practicing. It freed her mind up to think more clearly about her surroundings.
"What's the deal with you two," she asked, "You guys have a weird vibe."
"Oh, it's nothing important," he lied, "Though you'd do well to avoid him. He's in Hell for a reason."
"So are you," She pointed out, "But we still get along just fine, don't we?"
"Certainly. Though, let's just say my sins are of a different type than his."
"I'd really appreciate you elaborating on why you don't want me talking to him. If you can't give me a valid reason, I still have to do my job and make friends with anyone in Hell with the level of power you both have. We both know he's too consequential to ignore, and this is beyond petty grievances."
"He's dangerous." Alastor twirled her around, not allowing the conversation to interrupt the dance.
"So are you," She replied, "I already told you about the meeting thing he wanted to set up. But I told him I wouldn't meet in person if I didn't have an escort with me for protection." She didn't need Alastor's help half as much as she pretended to, but he didn't need to know that. She liked having him around. He was useful.
"I may be a nonjudgmental type," she continued, "but I'm not an idiot. He didn't seem to want me to have you there, and then just now you two were both being off. Clearly there's more going on that neither of you are saying."
Alastor's handsome grin never faltered, "You're too observant for your own good." It was dangerously close to a threat. She ignored it.
"Can you at least tell me what you think would happen if he had his way? And don't say he'll get my soul, because I'm not stupid enough to sell something that priceless for anything. I'll be wiped from existence before my agency is stolen."
Alastor knew from experience that everyone thought that, until they didn't. Still, he didn't comment. He couldn't let her set walls up with him until he got what he wanted from her. He answered her question bluntly, "He'll kidnap, rape, torture, and attempt to enslave you, just like he's done with everyone he gets his hands on. There's a good chance he'd get you forcibly addicted to something just to keep you in line."
She was unfazed. "That sounds like the same thing a lot of people down here would do if they could. What makes him different?"
"Not everyone. I'm no rapist, dear," which was the truth.
"Yeah, you don't seem the type. You're more of a feminist than a lot of people I've met. And you've held to your promise to keep me safe while I'm visiting. If you're around, what danger am I in?"
"Why, none, of course," he lied.
"Frankly, I'm still trying to figure you out. You're an odd one," She smiled at him, making sure he could tell in her voice that she meant that kindly.
He dropped her into a dip, "Likewise."
"I have two dances with him. If I don't let him sneak me off to a second location, can we call it a fair compromise, and just enjoy the rest of the night?"
"Very well," he agreed, lifting her back up again.
The music ended, and they bowed to one another. Alastor made a show of kissing her hand, just to make sure everyone saw it. He made her skin tingle. She wondered if it had something to do with the magic he wielded brushing against her own in some way. Rosie noticed Elida's glow increase a bit and then dim when he let go. The cannibal overlord's black eyes glittered in understanding.
Alastor handed his friend off to her next partner, an older cannibal woman by the name of Molina that wore a very large hat. At Rosie's parties, those who wore dance cards were considered the feminine partner, regardless of gender, so Elida didn't have to worry about not knowing how to lead. Molina would be in charge of that.
While Elida met with her new partner, Sir Franklin found Vox to cash in on his dance. Neither of them had an official dance card, and they were both masculine-identifying, so the default went down to height. The taller one leads, unless otherwise discussed. It was the rules. Vox was taller than a large percentage of demons, Sir Franklin included.
The waltz started, and everyone on the floor began twirling to the lilting tune. Dresses and tailcoats swished about among cheerful laughter. Vox didn't give two shits about any of it. Cannibaltown wasn't his territory, and these weirdos seemed to avoid any kind of tech advancements like the plague, so his influence here was limited.
He was bored, and he just wanted to get this over with so he could get his in with the Ambassador. Maybe if he got her in bed and fucked her really well, she'd get emotionally attached to him. That worked often enough with other people he'd tricked into selling their souls. It was certainly something he knew Alastor would never try, and it was so effective that it was practically Valentino's signature move. They were partners for a reason.
She might be too virtuous for that, though. She was an angel, after all, and not a fallen one. He couldn't get her drunk, that would defeat the purpose. For that avenue to work, she'd need to agree, fully sober, and have a clear enough memory to want to latch on to him afterwards. He could shoot his shot, but if it went sour, he might just end up scaring her off. People as pretty as she was never lacked for admirers. He had to tread carefully.
Vox was pulled from his thoughts by Sir Franklin, who was blissfully unaware of anything happening outside of their little dance. Vox wondered if the man realized he'd been staring down toward his dick the whole time. Men often didn't notice that people could see when their eyes wandered. Vox knew. The people watching them knew. Everyone knew.
"Well, Mr. Vox, I must say, you are quite the finest dancer I have ever had the pleasure of waltzing with. Perhaps, if the spot is not taken, I might reserve your last dance for myself as well?" The idiot was practically drooling.
Vox was used to simps. They followed him everywhere. It was just something that came with fame. But fun as it was to get laid whenever he wanted, this was such an annoying time. Still, just like before, it was rude to refuse. He could say he already had one reserved, but unless he found an open partner by the last dance, it would be clear that he was lying, and that would be a bad look. Most people with cards would be close to booked by now, and the last dance was prime real-estate. No one worth his time would be free then. Declining would be pointless.
"Of course, it would be a delight," he lied, dripping with false charm, twirling Sir Franklin like a princess.
As far as princesses went, Charlie was having a blast. Even Vaggie was starting to have fun, despite herself. She loved her girlfriend so damn much, and the vibrant energy she brought to every situation was contagious. When the dance ended, she gave her love a small kiss. She didn't know what the rules were for PDA at fancy-pants events like this, but a little peck couldn't hurt, could it?
Except it did hurt, because afterwards she didn't want to pull away. She wanted to kiss Charlie over and over until Hell itself collapsed. She wondered if there was an empty room somewhere they could hide in for a while…
Meanwhile, Alastor was dancing with his best friend. Rosie was his favorite person to tap toes with, and she'd made sure to reserve several songs for him, despite her own dance card filling up almost immediately after people had begun to arrive. Rosie did what she did best; She talked.
"You and that little angel are gettin' pretty close aren't ya? So what's the angle?"
"Oh, you know all too well what the angle is, ha ha ha," he laughed, happy to talk freely. People wouldn't be able to hear them easily, they were too close to the orchestra, and no one was stupid enough to openly eavesdrop on two overlords.
"You really think you can make a deal with her? She seems a bit too smart for that."
"Perhaps, but it can't hurt to warm her up a bit regardless. Even if I don't win her soul, she'd still be a powerful ally to keep up my sleeve." His grin grew more sinister as he thought of all the things he could do with an angel witch at his beck and call.
"Don't you hurt that little girl," Rosie demanded, "I like her. Maybe she could make a good partner for you? Your smile seems easier when she's around."
"Don't be silly," he brushed off the idea, "You know how I am."
"Aces can still date, honey."
"Whats?"
"Aces. You know, asexuals."
"You and I both know that I'm probably the farthest thing from a sexual you can find."
"No, honey, asexual, one word. Oh please, don't tell me you still don't know what that means? You're surrounded by queers all day long."
"I'm afraid not, dear. Is that something the kids are saying nowadays?"
"It means people like you, who don't want to date or fuck anyone, or at least not the same kind of way as other people do."
He almost missed a step. "There's a word for that?"
While Rosie patiently force-fed Alastor information he didn't want on the identity she thought he'd have figured out by now, Elida worked her magic with the cannibals, dance after dance. Her natural sweetness, angelic beauty, and special perfume all made for the perfect storm to end each encounter on a positive note. It was refreshing being out and about without a dozen angels trying to ask her out. Here she could just dance, talk, and interact with the people around her. They all had such fascinating stories.
Molina with the big hat had been a farmer until a bad famine led her to developing a taste for human flesh. A charming young man named Chaz was incredibly witty and made her laugh more than once during their dance. A shorter creature named Jason was a hellborn imp who had been orphaned at a young age and taken in by a cannibal family as their own. She listened to them all with a genuine smile. It was clearer to her by the day that while the denizens of Hell could be cruel and vicious, they weren't all that bad when you got to know them.
She wished there could be a third place for souls to go. A middle ground afterlife for the souls who were imperfect, but not beyond all hope. It hurt her heart how black and white the divine judgement seemed to be, while simultaneously being completely unknowable. She decided it might be worth some phone calls to try to get an audience with the being overseeing that judgement, whoever or whatever they were. If she could at least have some written rules, she could better guide these good people to their salvation.
Seraphim would likely push back against the request, but Elida had a habit of refusing to accept that some things simply weren't within her control.
