8

Hours passed and Isobel had gone from completely pissed, to slightly irritated, to feeling an inkling of shame, and now full of regret. She could usually control her somewhat explosive temper with little effort, but there was something about being in this place, or maybe something about Alastor himself, that always put her on edge. The constant feeling of fight or flight had frayed her nerves more than she had realized, but that wasn't an excuse to scream and cause a scene. She was embarrassed and guilty, and now, in an effort to make things right, she had to do the one thing she hated most of all.

Isobel had to apologize.

Just the thought of admitting she was wrong put her in a shitty mood. But she took a deep breath, swallowed her misplaced pride, and sought out Alastor.

She found him in the parlor, surprisingly, reading one of her library books, a compilation of Edgar Allan Poe's writings. She hesitated at the door, but he either did not see her or was pretending not to. So she entered and settled herself on the couch.

It struck her that they were in the same positions as that day Alastor offered to buy her eyes, but now it was her awaiting his attention. She briefly wondered if she just gave him one of her eyeballs, could they just call the whole thing even? Probably a bad idea.

She sat for a while, him still ignoring her, before she loudly cleared her throat. He moved his eyes in her direction.

"May I speak with you, please?"

He lowered the book as he fully turned toward her. And though he still had a wide closed mouth grin, his eyes were narrow and cold. Isobel launched into her well rehearsed apology.

"So, though I do not regret what I said, I do regret how I said it. I feel like my feelings were valid, but you are not responsible for my poor actions. So I wanted to… apologize." She chewed the word like it left a bad taste in her mouth, but she then gave her best remorseful smile. Alastor remained unmoved.

Damn, that usually worked. She should have known that his bullshit meter was better than most. She sighed defeated and crossed her arms over her chest. When all else fails, honesty.

"Ok, so I've got problems. A bad temper, and an almost violent reaction to anyone trying to assert any kind of authority over me." She averted her eyes. "It was something I was working on before I came here. But then you put your hand on me and it just…" She shook her head free of whatever thoughts were distracting her and brought her eyes back to rest on Alastor. "You did not deserve that reaction from me, and I am sorry."

Ah, there it was. Sincerity.

Alastor just shrugged and flashed his teeth like he was completely unbothered, like it didn't take Isobel incredible effort just to get the words out. That prick.

"Think nothing of it," he said, placing his book aside. "All is forgiven. However…"

At that moment all the lights flickered out leaving nothing but shadow and an eerie green glow. Isobel gasped and looked around herself. When she turned back to Alastor she jumped back.

He was standing over her. Too close. How did he move that fast? His expression was all at once crazed and sinister as he stared her down with radio dial eyes.

Isobel instinctively pushed back trying to get any amount of distance between them, but there was nowhere to go. She was trapped.

"If you ever speak to me like that again," he began. Alastor bent down close to her and as he did so his movements seemed wrong somehow, as if all of his joints were broken. "We're going to have problems."

The sound of radio feedback screeched in her ears as all of his proportions became grotesque. Isobel couldn't help but feel as if he was something like fifteen feet tall hovering overhead as his antlers, suddenly that of a ten point buck, scraped the wall behind her. His face was now just centimeters from her own and Isobel could feel his breath hot and sticky on her forehead.

Her voice came trembling and husky as she whispered, "what are you?"

Alastor laughed and receded. The lights flashed back to life, and he, too, as if nothing had happened was again sitting in the chair perfectly calm.

"I am someone not to be trifled with."

"Clearly," Isobel swallowed hard trying to clear the lump in her throat, trying to make her voice a little stronger, a little braver, before answering. "I'll have to remember that."

"Make sure you do." He picked up the book he had previously put aside. "You may leave now."

Isobel went to move and realized that she had been gripping the couch cushions so hard that her joints ached as she peeled her fingers away. As she left, she felt like a kid running up the basement stairs after turning off the light. Feeling the prickles on the back of the neck and the knowing without a doubt that the boogeyman was just an arms length away from grabbing their collar and dragging them into the dark. But this boogeyman was real. A tangible demon that Isobel now fully understood could destroy her as easily as look at her.

With great trepidation, she forced herself to turn her back on him and leave.

As she began to cross the lobby, Angel, who had been sitting at the bar scrolling on his phone and talking to Husk, spotted her traumatized expression.

"Shit, what happened to you?"

"Uh, nothing." Isobel remembered to control her face and folded her arms to keep her hands from shaking. "What are you still doing here? Shouldn't you be out by this time?"

"Yeah, but it's going to rain tonight so everything is canceled."

"It rains in Hell? That's interesting." Isobel sat in the next bar stool over. "I usually like it when it rains."

"You won't like this. It's not pleasant, I mean, it's not strictly water coming from the sky."

Isobel wrinkled her nose in disgust. She refused to even entertain the thought of what could be raining down on them.

"Exactly," Angel continued. "And Val hates it when it rains. Really hates it. So he ends up canceling everything and hides in bed."

"Pussy," Husk murmured, causing Angel to smile.

"Well, anyway," Angel said. "My plans for the night have been ruined. What about you?"

Isobel snorted, "what plans? I'll be doing what I always do, go to bed and read until I fall asleep with a book on my face."

"Oh no." Charlie was suddenly at her side. She wrapped her arms around Isobel.

"Ah, where the fuck did you come from?" Isobel exclaimed. She was, after all, understandably jumpy.

"Is that really how you spend every night? All by yourself? You must be so lonely."

"No, no, it's not like that." Isobel was afraid that Charlie would cry at any moment. "I really don't mind it."

"I feel this is my fault. I haven't been a very good host to you. I've been so preoccupied with the rehabilitation and redemption of souls, that I've neglected your, uh, special circumstances."

"Not necessary," Isobel tried to sound reassuring. She could sense an uncomfortable social situation in her near future. "You've been a very gracious host. I'm perfectly happy on my own. Besides, I'm not really looking to enjoy the nightlife of Hell. I'm just biding my time until I find a way back to where I belong."

"Oh! You know what you need?" Charlie grasped Isobel by the shoulders suddenly excited.

"I feel like you're not listening to me."

"You need a girls night."

"Oh, lord."

"Come on, it'll be fun. We can paint each other's nails, watch movies, tell each other our darkest secrets."

Isobel's eyes rolled, but as she looked at Charlie's sweet, earnest face any resolve she had melted away.

"Ok, girls night, sounds fun."

"Yay!" Charlie hugged her fiercely, much to Isobel's chagrin, before rounding on Angel who was just trying to mind his own business. "And what about you? Want to join?"

"Not really. Sounds lame."

"What if," Charlie said slyly, "I let you braid my hair?"

Angel's nostrils flared. That bitch knew his weakness. No one ever let them braid their hair and he didn't know why. He was so good at it, especially with the extra arms.

"Ok, fine. I'll go," he relented. "But on two conditions. I get to braid everyone's hair, and I'm allowed to get shitfaced."