[Shoutout to "Warm hugs" for the reviews. I love them so much; keep them coming!]
Sir Pentious yawned and stretched lazily, enjoying his luxurious silk nightshirt. His cap fluttered its eye, banishing the sleep away. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. A few heaven-made egg-boys with awkwardly tiny wings rolled over, still snoozing beside him. They were still stupid and bumbling, but he loved them. He offered one of them an affectionate pat on the shell before sliding out of bed and getting dressed for the day.
He felt great. His night with Cherri had reinvigorated his smile and put some pep in his slither. Right on schedule, the doorbell rang. An egg-boy opened it to find the mayor smiling pleasantly at him, the necklace Pentious had made displayed proudly over Marcel's clean white suit.
He knelt down to the funny creature's level and politely shook their hand. "Morning," Marc greeted kindly before standing up and turning to Pentious, "Did you have fun last night? I couldn't find you."
Pentious let him in, "Ah yess, I was uh… otherwise engaged. Please, have a sseat."
Marc sat at the table and examined an odd machine mounted to the wall. "What's that?"
Pentious, only too delighted to show off, said, "Allow me to demonsstrate!"
Flipping a switch on a device of his own invention, they watched the gears and knobs whir to life. Steam whistled, which was more stylistic than necessary, and Pentious stood back to enjoy the show.
A shelf tilted, rolling a silver platter onto a conveyor belt. It rang like a bell as it fell flat, moving slowly in a line. Above it, an impossibly sharp blade attached to a metal pinwheel whirled in a circle, slicing a few fresh slices of ham. The ham dropped through a heated coil. It cooked as it fell, landing cleanly onto the plate. A hole in the bottom of a bucket opened up just enough to let two eggs fall out. They landed on a skillet, and a rolling brush with soft but sticky bristles fished out the shells.
A slice of bread popped out of a perfectly ordinary toaster before it flipped over, dropping it through a buttering machine and sending it onto the platter with the ham. When the eggs were done, a spatula gently scooped them up, placing them onto the platter. The yolks didn't break. That had been the trickiest part of building the machine; but stupid as his egg-boys were, they'd helped him figure out how to make it work just right.
Finally, a salt and pepper shaker sprinkled just the right amount of seasoning onto the breakfast, and the conveyor belt delivered the platter onto the dining table, right in front of Marc, who beamed in absolute delight. "That's so cool!" he complimented excitedly, "You made this?"
Pentious stuck his nose in the air proudly, "With my own handss." He pressed the start button again and adjusted the conveyor belt to drop the next plate on the other side of the table. "Coffee?"
"Yes please," Marc accepted.
"Cream or sugar?"
"Both."
Pentious moved to a different, much smaller machine, and pressed a few buttons. It produced a fresh mug of coffee, which Pentious handed to his guest before making another one for himself. He sat across from Marc just as the second breakfast platter slid into place.
When Pentious was settled, Marc picked up his slice of warm toast and tasted it; it was perfect. "So," he began, "about the arm."
"Ah… Yess. That." Pentious sipped at his coffee awkwardly, not sure how to start. "Perhapss, you could tell me what happened? Hussk says miss Elida is hurt?"
Marcel nodded, frowning, "Yes. She was attacked. Someone with an arm made of angelic steel jumped her and beat her so bad she almost died. You should have seen the bruises on her face. It was horrible. Did you get a chance to look at it? Alastor said you were a talented engineer and that you may be able to help figure out who made it."
Pentious's eyes got all misty and flattered, "Mr. Alasstor really said that?" The Radio Demon had never really complimented him before. It meant a lot, especially coming from someone he respected.
Marc nodded, smiling at the breakfast machine, "It's clear he was right. This is awesome! Maybe I'll commission something fun from you." He fiddled with his mayoral crest.
"I'd be honored to build something for you, Mr. Mayor," Pentious sounded genuinely delighted at the prospect, "Perhaps something for your garden."
"Oh," Marc had an idea, "What about a big steampunk orrery for the center of town? It can show Heaven, Hell, and Earth, and be a big art piece for everyone to enjoy?"
"That would be a delightful project," Pentious agreed, "I'll get to work on it at once!" He took a bite of ham. "Now, about that arm…"
"Yes, the arm," Marc took a sip of coffee, "what could you make of it?"
"Well… pleasse don't be angry..."
"Why would I be angry?" Marcel looked at him, confused.
"Becaussse," Pentious shrank in his chair, but still chose to say the scary thing, "I made it," he admitted uncomfortably.
Marc choked on his coffee in surprise, coughing and sputtering into a napkin until Pentious jumped up to get him a glass of water. Marc accepted it and drank, washing the hot liquid down. When he was able to speak again, Marcel wiped his mouth and looked at Pentious's anxious face, "You did it?"
"No no, Mr. Mayor," Pentious corrected quickly, "I would never hurt the Ambassador! I simply made the devicce."
Marcel gawked, "Why? For who?"
"Eh, well, you ssee, I heard that the lieutenant of the exorcisst army lost her arm in the battle," Sir Pentious explained, "and that Adam was sslain. I know from experience how it feelss to lose a captain and a friend. So, I thought, why not give her a peace offering? I figured, if she liked it enough to wear, then I'd reveal it was a ssinner who made it, and we might be able to coexisst more easily. And eternity is an awful long time to sspend with only only one arm."
"Darn it, Pen," Marc pinched the bridge of his nose. He sighed, "Okay, I'll give you that, but why did you have to make it out of the one thing that could hurt us? The whole thing is solid angelic steel. Seriously, make it make sense."
Pentious shrugged sheepishly, "I hadn't ever worked with that material before, and I wanted to try it. I didn't think she'd ssneak into Hell and try to hurt someone with it. And it needed to lasst forever, sso regular steel simply wouldn't do."
"You thought… that the angelic steel arm… made for an angelic warrior… whose whole job is murdering people… wouldn't be used to hurt someone?"
"I am ssorry," Pentious cast his eyes downward, ashamed. "I did not conssider the consequences. I was trying to be nice, like Charlie taught." He scooped a bite of egg into his mouth miserably. "If it helps," he said, "I'm not surprised it fell off. It wass not designed for battle. I would have made sseveral changes if it were. Reinforced sstraps, for one. But this was just supposssed to be for regular civilian use."
Marcel sat back in his chair, letting everything sink in. On one hand, Pentious's actions were reckless. On the other hand, they were well-meaning. He ran a hand through his hair, "Uh. Okay. Well, at least we know who attacked her. I think maybe you should write Elida a letter. She won't be angry at you, she's too sweet for that, but you still owe her an apology."
"Yes, ssir," Pentious agreed, "Of coursse! And I can have the arm destroyed if you like."
"Hold off on that," Marc said, "we need to ask Elida and Alastor what they want done with it. They're the smart ones."
"Very well."
"Who has it right now?"
"Husk is sstill holding onto it. He… may have punched me in the face when I told him I made it."
"He what?"
"It'ss okay. I deserved it."
"Well, I don't know about that."
"I wonder," Pentious thought aloud, "what if I told miss Elida in person?"
"How would you do that?" Marc asked.
Pentious looked over his shoulder, the habit of checking for eavesdroppers a hard one to break. "Suppossse I traveled with you during your next delivery?"
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Marc hesitated, "What if the Seraphim find out?"
Pentious laughed, "What are they going to do? Ssend me to Hell?"
Marc supposed he had a point.
While Sir Pentious and Mayor Marcel talked over breakfast, Lute snarled at her blacksmith. "What is this garbage?" she asked, holding up the sad and awkwardly heavy attempt at a prosthetic arm.
The blacksmith rolled her eyes, "I make weapons and armor, not medical devices. I told you to talk to a doctor, but nooooo, you just had to have me do it."
"My old one was immaculate. This is trash!"
"So, use your old one, then, what do you need me for?"
Lute gritted her teeth, "I can't. I lost it."
The angelic blacksmith shrugged, "Don't blame me just because you don't know how to keep track of your own limbs."
"Oh, fuck you," Lute growled.
"Why do you even need it? Wouldn't Sera make you stay home, even if the exorcisms started up again? Just get a normal prosthetic and move on."
"I'm in charge of the entire exorcist army, and you think I'm staying home?" She couldn't believe this bitch.
"If your old arm was so perfect, how did you lose it? Did you get drunk and forget where you put it or something?" The blacksmith mocked, irritated that this uppity bitch had the audacity to insult her craftsmanship.
"The straps broke," Lute said, conveniently leaving out the details on how.
"Right. Because well-made things have straps that snap off soooo easily. Why didn't you pick it up and have it fixed?"
"That doesn't matter," Lute dodged. "You're going to take this pathetic hunk of metal, and you're going to remake it until you get this right."
"No," the blacksmith said, folding her arms, "I won't."
"Yes, you will," Lute demanded. She did not like being disobeyed.
"Nope. I'm not one of your little soldiers. I won't work with someone who talks to me like that. Find someone else to bully into it."
"You're useless," Lute spat, turning away angrily, "pathetic."
"K," the blacksmith said, shrugging and returning to her forge. She didn't care about Lute's opinion. She was proud of her work, and she never claimed to be a mechanical engineer.
Lute balled her fist but flew off. This was pointless. Five different blacksmiths and none of them could replicate the arm she'd lost. She'd be less angry about it if she'd at least gotten something out of it. But no, that icy bitch survived, and now she'd escalated from consorting alone with demons to bringing other angels around them. She had to go, and soon.
Meanwhile, in one of Heaven's coastal cities, Lilith examined Adam's halo, her own frustration growing by the day. What was the use of a powerful holy artifact if she couldn't figure out how to harness it? She'd tried wearing it like a crown, she'd tried drawing the holy magic out of it, she'd tried damaging it, but nothing worked. It glowed unmarred on her desk, glinting at her like a condescending wink.
"Don't look at me like that," she said aloud to it. It sat there. How Adam could mock her from the second grave was beyond her. She considered speaking with her husband about it, but he was still stuck in his depression rut. She refused to come back until he pulled himself out of it. Sad Guy Energy was not hot.
She might have shared this project with Charlie. After all, she was the one who'd led to Lilith acquiring Adam's halo in the first place. Without her, he'd still be around, fucking every woman he saw and generally being a dick. But that would undermine the whole point of stepping away in the first place. Charlie needed to learn to grow up, and she'd been leaning on Lilith as a crutch for too long. Sending Alastor to help was the most she'd be willing to do until Charlie was ready to be the monarch she was born to be. If she contacted Charlie, even for an unrelated project like this, she'd revert to hiding behind Lilith's skirts.
And then there was the issue of secrecy to consider. Charlie meant well, but she was too trusting. If she let slip what Lilith was up to, then that little angel Ambassador could find out; and if the Ambassador found out, the Seraphim could find out. If the Seraphim found out, Lilith would be fucked. She'd be kicked out of Heaven or worse. She certainly wouldn't be able to keep the halo.
She'd exhausted all other ideas. It was time to visit the archives.
Down in Hell, Elida slowly woke up, stretching and smiling. She was in a good mood. A very good mood. She was a bit sore from her special alone time throughout the night, but she didn't mind. She let herself laze in bed, turning on the radio.
"Gooood morning losers and lovers!" Alastor's voice called from the speaker, "It's a happy f***ing day in Hell today, with forecasts of light brimstone hail scattered throughout the day. And- oh! How about that; tuning in just now is Hell's Sweetheart herself, waking up from a night of Hallows Eve revelry. As I'm sure the other event attendees can attest, she sure knows how to throw a lively shindig! Tune in to our segment later tonight for the inside scoop on the event. If you'd like to be on next year's guest list, do feel free to check in to Princess Morningstar's Hazbin Hotel. Or don't. I don't care. Hahaha! Today's playlist is dedicated to my beautiful girlfriend, Ambassador Elida McCarthy. I love you, dearest. Enjoy!"
Elida giggled as 'Witchcraft' by Frank Sinatra came on. He was serenading her. She loved it.
Blushing happily, Elida waved her hand, magically pulling a dress out of her closet at random without bothering to get up. She pulled it on and laid back down, listening to Alastor's hilarious and adorable choice of music.
She stared at the ceiling, drawing imaginary doodles with her hand while she waited for Alastor to join her. He didn't take long, knocking politely on her door.
"Come in," Elida called.
"Are you decent?" he asked, just to be sure.
"Yes," she confirmed.
So, he entered. He held a large tray steaming with a hot homemade breakfast. "Did you rest well, love?"
"Like the dead," she joked, sitting up.
He laughed. She liked his silly laugh. "I do hope you're hungry," he said bringing the tray to the bed and setting it in her lap. He sat beside her and placed a kiss on her temple. "Eat."
She ate. It was amazing, as usual. Get yourself a partner who can cook. "I'd ask how you're such a good chef," she said, sipping a glass of fresh squeezed juice, "but I've already met your mom."
"Speaking of," he said, grabbing a morsel from the platter, "How would you like to try making the first recipe in her book tonight? I can send for the ingredients."
"I'd love that," she agreed, kissing his cheek. Or rather, she'd meant to kiss his cheek. He turned his head at the last minute and claimed her mouth with his own. She laughed against his lips but didn't pull away.
That's when Charlie walked in, "Hey, Elida do you know how- Oh!"
They both turned to look at the princess. "Do you mind?" Alastor said, "We're in the middle of breakfast."
"What can I help you with, sweetheart?" Elida asked kindly.
Charlie tried not to react. Don't be weird, don't be weird, don't be weird… She lit up in excitement, "Oh my gosh! That was so sweet!" She was so proud of Alastor. He was changing for the better, whether he wanted to or not.
"What is it you needed, darling?" Alastor asked, resting his head on his hands and crossing his legs in a casual lounge.
"Oh, fuck, right," Charlie pulled a knife out of her pocket, "Do you know how Nifty got her hands on an angelic knife? I found her crawling through walls and trying to stab cockroaches with it."
Elida squinted at the knife. It wasn't one of hers. "I don't," she admitted, "did you ask Nifty?"
"She says it was in Husk's room, but Husk didn't have his own angelic weapons, and he's been gone ages now. She had to get it from somewhere else, right?"
"Are you so sure?" Elida asked. "Would it have been impossible for him to find one?"
"He wouldn't need to find it, dearest," Alastor pointed out, "He knows where the armory is."
"Dearest?" Charlie asked, hands excitedly on her cheeks, "You called her Dearest!"
"Yes," Alastor confirmed, rolling his eyes a bit, "A common term of endearment for one's significant other. Now, as for your knife, when did you last check the armory's inventory?"
"Not for a while," Charlie admitted, trying very hard not to squeal at what her dad- er, her friend had just said.
"I'll text him," Elida said, grabbing her phone from the bedside table. She changed her VPN location to 'Heaven' and sent Husk a text before checking her other messages. There were tons, mostly from angels telling her how great the party was or trying to ask her out. A few were requests for potion commissions.
"Okay, let me know what he says," Charlie said. "I'm going to go lock this up and check the armory. You guys have fun with… whatever you were doing." She smiled, walking away and closing the door behind her.
Charlie was thrilled. Dating Elida would be good for Alastor. At this rate, he would be redeemed in no time! They'd need a new facility manager when he left, but that was a great problem to have. She ran off to tell Vaggie.
After she left, Alastor turned to his doe, "I have something for you."
Elida tilted her head adorably, curious. "What is it?"
"Finish your breakfast first," he said, while also making it very hard for her to eat. He kept claiming kisses, which slowed her progress. She didn't mind. She felt so adored.
Eventually, they gave up on breakfast and kicked the tray to the side. It clattered to the floor, forgotten. They kissed each other like there was nothing else in the world. The taste of her lips made him want his morning coffee.
"Mm… dearest," he asked, "I've been- mm… wanting to know-"
"Shh," she ordered.
"Mmmhm… Yes ma'am." He shut up. For now.
After who knows how long, she finally let him speak. "Wondering what?" she asked, nuzzling his nose sweetly.
"Hm? Oh," he shook the static from his brain and asked her, "What have you been putting in my coffee?"
A slow, mischievous smile spread across her face. "Why do you ask?"
"You taste like my coffee. Is it a potion? Perhaps a lip balm that uses the same ingredients?"
She snorted, amused. "Not exactly."
"Well don't keep me in suspense," he said, twirling a finger around the tip of one of her doe-ears. It tickled.
"Would you like to see me make it?" she offered.
"I'd love to know the recipe, yes," he confirmed.
"I'll show you, if you tell me what you have for me," she bargained.
"You first," he demanded.
"Only because you're cute," she agreed. She pulled back the covers and stood up, moving to the little kitchenette in her suite.
Alastor watched, becoming increasingly confused as Elida made an entirely normal cup of coffee. She didn't use special grounds, or some Heavenly brand, or even a secret poison from her insidious potion box. She just made plain black coffee; the same way he used to drink it before she came along.
Until she pulled an angelic dagger out of the air and sliced her hand open.
In a calm, practiced movement, Elida sliced her palm open and squeezed her own golden blood into the mug before kissing the wound shut again and stirring. By the time she handed it to him, there was no evidence of what she'd put into the drink. She'd been making him this coffee every morning for months.
"Well now," he said, impressed, "That explains a lot!" He accepted the mug and took a sip. He'd have been more shocked if he hadn't seen her do significantly more unhinged things than this on a regular basis. He'd long since come to terms with the fact that she wasn't fully sane.
"Your turn," she smiled, hands sweetly behind her back.
"A deal's a deal," he agreed. Snapping his fingers, a small rectangular box appeared on the counter. It was just over a foot long and wrapped in sleek black paper, tied with blood-red ribbon.
She picked it up curiously, examining the box and trying to think of guesses as to what could be inside it. It was too large to be jewelry, too small to be a dress, and too light to be crystals or brewing tools. "What is it?" she asked, untying the ribbon.
"A token of my affection," he answered vaguely.
When she lifted the lid, she saw only darkness. Whatever was inside had been magically shrouded in thick shadow. Curious, she reached in. She felt something thin and hard between her fingers. Pulling it out, she gasped. Not because it was glittery or beautiful, but because of what it meant.
In her hand she held a blue, wand-size version of Alastor's own radio staff.
