Sera was pissed. Emily had signed the approval for the so-called "Grey Area" without consulting her. Now she was stuck between a rock and a hard place. She could undo Emily's action and keep those angels safe, but that would show everyone that they weren't in agreement on something rather large, which would be a bad look. It could lead to questions, which could lead to leaked information, which in turn could lead to potential civil unrest.

On the other hand, she could leave it be, and risk the safety of all the angels who visited their supposed demon soulmates. But then, not only would she need to station a guard near the portal at all times, but she would be unable to help any of the angels visiting the Grey Area while they were in Hell.

The only other option would be to move the Grey Area up to Heaven, which was completely out of the question. She already hated that that smiling psychopath was able to roam freely under the Ambassador's supervision. There was no way she'd be allowing any other demons entry, even on a limited basis.

Sera pulled Emily into a private room to berate her, "How could you do that? Do you have any idea what you've started?"

Emily's big blue eyes stared defiantly back, "It's my job to bring joy. How can I do that if people are separated from the very souls that would bring them the greatest fulfillment?"

"Plenty of people find happiness without partners."

"Of course they do. But there's a reason we have a whole department dedicated to matchmaking. Love, romantic or otherwise, is such a huge part of what makes those souls human. I can't keep people apart knowing their match is out there somewhere."

"How can you be sure it's even true? I don't buy it. Demons and angels don't mix."

"I have proof. I scanned Elida and that Alastor guy when they weren't looking. Here, I'll show you," Emily pulled out a tablet and opened an app she'd built herself. It was carefully designed to analyze the compatibility of two souls.

She pulled up Elida's file. So many hopefuls had checked their compatibility with her. To Elida's clear annoyance, everyone ignored the big red "NO MATCH" flag and tried to court her anyway. But when Emily had peeked around a corner and scanned the smiling red demon into the system, she compared his soulmetrics with Elidas.

Showing the tablet to Sera, Emily explained, "Look. See? They're a 97.3% match. Do you have any idea how rare that is? The most famous lovers in history hardly ever get above an 80. What if there are more like this?"

"Oh Emily… Please tell me you haven't told the Ambassador about this," Sera pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Not yet. I wanted to see how things played out on their own."

"Good. There's still time to separate them then."

Emily's eyes widened, "No! We can't do that!"

"Watch me."

"No, you don't understand," Emily pleaded, "A match like that will tear the world apart trying to find each other again. You know what humans are like; they'll do whatever it takes to reunite with someone they love. With these two being in separate afterlives, who can say what the repercussions would be if we tear them apart now? Especially considering how tender things are between the realms."

"Why did you scan him in the first place? That's just asking for trouble!"

"I was curious about what he'd be like, so I followed them during one of his visits. I saw how they interacted with each other. They just sort of… clicked. You know? I can always tell when two souls are meant for each other, it's a huge part of my job."

"How long have you known?"

"From his first time up here."

Sera bristled. How could Emily be so naïve? "You knew this whole time, and you didn't tell me?"

"They'd known each other for months already. By then it was too late to do anything, and I didn't want you to react like… well, like this."

"What if she finds out?" Sera asked angrily. "We can't let her fall in love with a demon."

"That's not our decision to make," Emily crossed her arms and stuck her chin in the air.

"I knew it was a bad idea to send her down there. I'm seriously considering pulling her back. This is getting out of hand."

"Don't you dare! You gave your word; 5 years, no less! And just look at how much progress they've made; Redemption City is growing by the day. I don't know what they're up to in the archives, but it's been making a huge difference. We can't give up now."

"He's a serial-killer, Emily!"

"He could be redeemed one day for all you know."

"The demons don't deserve to be with angels. It's not natural."

"What an ignorant and close-minded thing to say," Emily scolded. "They're humas souls, just like our own people. Don't dismiss them as monsters just because you don't understand them."

"But they ARE monsters. How do you not get that?"

"They weren't the ones committing an unprovoked mass genocide every year."

Sera's frown deepened. That jab stung. Partially because it hurt that Emily clearly no longer trusted her, and partially because it was completely true. The exterminations were genocide, no matter which angle you looked at it. Sera's guilt weighed on her like a mountain. But no matter how much she hated it, she would do what had to be done.

The fact of the matter was that souls weren't being redeemed at nearly a high enough rate to keep Hell's population down. Humans died every day, and more demons popped up by the minute. The Hazbin Hotel may be working, but it wasn't working enough. It took weeks or months at minimum to redeem a soul, but only an instant for an evil person to die and wind up in Hell. Unless something changed and raised those numbers drastically, the five extermination-free years would only result in there being more demons to fight than ever before.

Seraphim had one point, however, that Emily couldn't contest; "We need to take something else into consideration here."

"And what's that?"

"If the demons can change to be better, who's to say the angels spending time with them can't change the opposite way?"

This time, it was Emily's turn to frown.

Meanwhile, down in Hell, Elida sat in a tree in Alastor's mini swamp, reading a book while Vox screamed. She glanced over. Her boyfriend was having the time of his life. Poor Vox was chained face down to a table while Alastor methodically peeled off the skin from his back. He pulled slowly, intentionally drawing out Vox's agony as much as he could. Elida had made it very clear that once the three punishments were up, Vox would be well treated under her care. So, Alastor had to make the most of it while he could.

And by golly, did he. Alastor enjoyed every sadistic moment of it. This had been a long time coming, and his only regret was that he couldn't do it all again later. Licking some of Vox's blood off his sharp fingers, Alastor smiled at Elida. She was such a lovely ornament, livening up the place while he worked. A splash of blood had somehow squirted out far enough to stain a small part of her dress. She paid it no mind.

"Mistress, please," Vox begged, voice breaking under the pain, "I'll make the apron, just knock me out firs- AaaaAAAAAH!"

Alastor peeled some more. Good God, will it ever end?

Elida had watched with interest as Vox went through the stages of grief. Denial had come first, the reality of his new status as an owned soul having trouble sinking in. When they came for him to begin the first punishment, he'd put up a fight, snarling and raging in the second stage: Anger. Clearly, now he'd graduated to bargaining. She wondered how long it would take before he moved to depression, and then finally acceptance of his new reality. For his own sake, she hoped it wouldn't take long.

"Aren't you worried Charlie will be bothered by all this screaming?" Elida questioned, looking around Alastor's room.

"What she doesn't know can't hurt her."

"He's pretty loud."

"That's never been an issue before. The swamp does wonders to swallow the sound," he said, making a new slice along Vox's shoulder.

Vox twitched and clenched his fist, trying not to cry out again. Alastor flicked a sharp claw at an exposed piece of flesh, just to add a little insult to injury. Vox whimpered pathetically in response.

"Oh?" Elida tilted her head, "How often do you use this little area, exactly?"

She indicated to the, for lack of a better term, torture chamber hidden in a corner of the swamp behind several thick trees. There were a myriad of nasty-looking devices. Elida recognized some of them as medieval interrogation tools, but others that were unknown to her. She wondered if Alastor had invented them or if he'd found them somewhere. Vox had the misfortune of being strapped to the rack, though at the moment it was being used as more of a restraint than a pulling-machine.

"Quite frequently," Alastor answered cheerfully. "I do enjoy playing with my little toys!"

"But I've never heard anything, and I live right beside you."

"As I said, the sound gets swallowed up rather nicely."

"Convenient," she nodded, before returning to her book.

Vox whimpered again, rogue sparks darting across his chains harmlessly.

"What was that, old pal?" Alastor condescended, placing a hand beside his ear and leaning down toward his enemy, "I'm afraid I couldn't quite hear you over the sound of pathetic crying."

"You'd cry, too if you were in his place," Elida countered, still looking at her book.

"I would not," Alastor declared, placing the fresh hide aside to be tanned later. He loosened Vox's bonds temporarily.

"Well, I would," Elida declared back.

"Anyone who so much as harms a hair on your head will have a far worse fate ahead of them than a little skin-flaying." Alastor flipped Vox over onto his skinless back, earning another cry of pain. Resecuring Vox's chains, Alastor got to work on the front. He smiled cruelly, staring deep into Vox's eyes. Torture was an intimate act, and the victim's eyes always showed the greatest agony.

Elida closed her book again, thinking. "Speaking of," she said slowly, "we need to decide what to do about Lute."

"Careful not to speak too freely in present company."

In response, Elida issued an order, "Vox, you're not to speak of anything you hear Alastor and I discuss unless you have my prior and clearly articulated consent."

Vox heard the command and would have no choice but to obey. However, at least at the moment, he was a bit distracted by the knife running along his flesh. He screamed again, writhing under Alastor's hands. This only made it worse, turning what would have been a clean slice into a rough tear.

Alastor laughed manically in violent glee, "Ahhhahaha, I love it when they struggle!" He kept cutting. "As for miss Lute," he said, far more level-headed when speaking to his doll, "I would have thought you'd have cooked up a favorable solution by now."

"I have an idea, but it needs refining."

"Go on."

"That's the problem, I can't tell you the whole thing."

"Oh, how mysterious of you! Whyever not?"

"Reasons that you'll find out eventually. But trust me when I say, it's better you don't know yet."

Vox didn't want to know what horrors Elida could possibly think of that would be so awful even Alastor couldn't know.

"Well, dearest, I can't very well help you refine your idea if I don't know what it is," Alastor pointed out.

"I can tell you this; I need to set a trap. Something that will put her off guard."

"Relaxing someone as high-strung as that holy piece of work would be a feat in and of itself."

"I know. That's the tough part. And I don't know her, so I can't exactly walk up and strike up a casual conversation without raising some serious red flags."

Alastor had a thought. He stopped cutting, looking up at Elida curiously. "Perhaps not red… What about white?"

"Come again?"

"Raise a white flag. I'm talking about a ruse."

Elida's ears perked up, "I'm listening."

"Tell someone, who knows someone else, who knows her, that you're trying to set up a meeting with the leader of the exorcist army," Alastor suggested. "Let them think you've lost faith in the project; that there's no chance enough souls can be redeemed."

Elida caught on, "Oh I see! And I tell her that demons are a worse threat than we ever realized. I feed her a few false trails, then execute the part of the plan I can't tell you about."

"Precisely," Alastor tapped his nose and gave her a knowing wink. "That way, if your mysterious inner workings somehow fail, the exorcists will still have false information to work off of."

"Perfect!"

"There's just one problem with that theory, my dear," Alastor smiled.

Elida folded her arms, "Oh yeah? And what's that?"

"There is no way a plan concocted by a mind as spectacular as yours could possibly fail," he said with a confident nod.

Elida blushed, glowing a little brighter. Alastor liked when she glowed. She was like moonlight glistening through a glacier, soft and brilliant. Her entire being was pure poetry.

Alastor loved that he could stare openly at her without caring that everyone knew what he was thinking. It was nice to be free. To love her publicly, even if it paved the way for political scandals and enemy ammunition. If he hadn't told her of his affection, he wasn't sure how much longer he'd have been able to hide it. He may be accustomed to masking his emotions, but love was too new to him. He'd been wholly unprepared for how it would conquer his thoughts and expressions. Better to own it.

"What are you staring at, podcaster?" Elida teased.

"Only a vision of the finest quality," Alastor replied. "A breathing sonnet."

She blushed harder, cheeks going purple as she buried her face in her hands, "Stop it!"

"HA! No." Alastor blew her a cheesy little kiss before continuing his task of carving Vox up.

When Vox's torso was done, Alastor got to work on the legs, then the arms. It was a shame he couldn't skin Vox's face. No skin to remove. It would have been fun. Ah well. Vox passed out from pain and shock halfway through the second arm anyway, eventually dying from blood loss. Alastor stabbed him several times, just for the fun of it, then summoned his butcher to carve the remainder of Vox's body up. He'd eat the rest of him for dinner.

When she saw he was done, Elida fluttered down, shrinking to sit on Alastor's shoulder. She gave him a kiss on the cheek. It tickled when she did that.

They left the butcher to his work and went to rest in the sitting area. They chatted for a while, enjoying some soft music and tea. Elida sat curled up on his lap, soaking in his heat. Alastor loved how her ice soothed the burning hellfire. He held her tighter, never managing to be close enough. He could merge into her very soul and still not be close enough. He buried his face in her hair.

She tilted her neck, letting him in closer. He kissed it, savoring the silkiness of her skin. Trailing his lips gently across her shoulder, he placed kiss after kiss down her arm and then back up again. Finally, he returned to her neck, and he had the urge to bite. So, he did. She laughed in response, low and seductive. He couldn't break her skin even if he'd tried, so he wasn't worried about hurting her. Her injuries from the assassination attempt had long since healed.

He kissed her neck harder, sucking it at it like he was trying to drink her blood. Then he picked another spot and did it again. And again. Until eventually he claimed her mouth, kissing her deeply. She kissed him back.

He grinned devilishly against her mouth, "My my, dearest," he said, "I'm afraid you've gotten some blood on your dress."

"And you still have blood on your hands," she answered back.

He did. He hadn't cleaned them off yet. He enjoyed the red stains a bit too much. "Perhaps I ought to wipe them off on something," he teased.

He ran one of his hands across her leg, starting at her ankle and slowly… agonizingly slowly… moving is fingers upward until they hovered just above her knee. He left a small trail of red wherever his fingertips touched, marking the territory he'd explored.

She shuddered. He smirked at the effect he had on her. Taking her chin in his other hand, he leaned forward again to kiss her, but held himself just above her lips, barely out of reach. He held her there, listening to how her breathing got heavier. Trailing his hand from her knee to her thigh, he pushed her dress up a bit. She gasped, her eyes locked on his lips, hands clutching his shirt.

"I have you right where I want you," he purred, the static in his voice increasing with tension.

"And where is that?" She whispered back, desperate for him to release her and just as desperate for him not to. His fingers made her tingle in unholy places. He moved them a little higher. Only a few inches away now…

He chuckled darkly, "Why, in the palm of my hand, of course."

He moved his hand back down, then up again, stroking her thigh flirtatiously. Despite the tension, his fingers never quite reached where she wanted them to go. Elida thought she was going to burst. She yanked on his shirt, forcefully pressing his lips against hers. She breathed him in. She could taste blood on his lips, too. It tasted like life.

He gladly submitted to her demand, kissing her exactly how she'd taught him. His heart beat faster, and he moaned into her. In that moment, she was everything.

But he wasn't going to give her everything. He considered it. But he wanted to play with her a little first. He wanted to see her beg. So, eventually, he pulled away, hand still grasping her thigh.

"I think," he said breathlessly, "It's time for you to get some rest."