The next morning the Hazbin Hotel stood just as it had the day before, but now it was cold and quiet. The night before Kali had gone room to room collecting what remained of the followers and together they all left in the dark hours of the morning. Who knew what story she had to tell to get them all to leave with her. She probably told them that if they stayed the Radio Demon would devour them while they slept. Maybe she spun a fantastical tale of Isobel secretly escaping death. After all, where was the body? No body, no crime, right? The Shepherd was just simply hidden somewhere safe, waiting for her enemies and the non-believers to show themselves, and then she would return and enact justice.

To anyone with a rational mind it sounded absurd. But none of these sheep possessed a mind that Alastor would describe as rational.

For his part, Alastor did not sleep at all that night. Though it had been a while, it was a familiar feeling. He drank alone in his room listening to music through the worn crackling speakers of the radio. He haunted the empty halls, dragging his feet along the way. The night seemed to go on longer than usual and by the morning, his mood was dark and wretched.

The following night was much the same, and the next. Those in the hotel gave him a wide berth, but now with no guests again, there was much to do. Charlie needed her stalwart hotelier. So Alastor put on a happy face and went about his daily tasks as usual. And after days and days of acting the part he almost believed that everything was back to normal.

Unfortunately, not everyone could move on so easily.

Always the slave to their feelings, Angel still had a bit of a chip on his shoulder and Lucifer seemed more disdainful than usual. But Alastor could handle both of them easily enough. At least Charlie and Vaggie were coming out of their sorrow and acting normal again. And of course Husker was, well, Husker. He remained the same as he ever was, not much ever ruffled his feathers. Or at least, if it did, he had the decency to not show it.

However, Isobel's (and now Kali's) reach went further than the hotel. Much further, it would turn out, than Alastor had thought. He would learn that more when he was called to a meeting of the Overlords.

Carmilla Carmine had called this meeting. She was the only one who ever did. She was, for some reason, obsessed with the Overlords communicating with each other. He, however, knew it was a waste of time. If any of the other Overlords thought like he did (and how could they not) they were fully uninterested in working together. Alastor hated these meetings, being called and expected to jump. He would sit there listening to one of them prattle on and on about a subject that he did not care about and yet was expected to contribute to the conversation. Of course none of them could actually know that. So with a pedantic smile plastered across his face he sat and listened to them drone on and belly ache, hoping that at least there would be some nugget of information that could possibly be used against them in the future.

He took a seat next to Rosie as per usual. They could at least chat until this blasted thing started. Every Overlord was in attendance, including Zestial, who sat at the foot of the table far away from Camilla in an obvious effort to squash the rumors of the two having some kind of romantic connection. (They weren't fooling anyone.) And an unusual appearance of all three Vs, all of which sat across and down from Alastor. He tried to pay them no mind and only keep his attention on Rosie, though there was the briefest of moments when his eyes locked with Vox and they shared a sharp pang of negative energy.

Camilla rose at the head of the table commanding the room.

"We are here today to discuss the effects of the group calling themselves the Lost Souls of the Shepherd." Eyes darted around the table and mumbles littered the party. "After the death of their leader, Isobel," Alastor remained unmoved, knowing that there would be those looking for a reaction from him. "One would think they would have become scattered, but it seems the opposite has happened. They have rallied under the notion of martyrdom and are attempting to cause an upheaval to the order of things."

"What damage could they possibly do?" a well dressed Overlord with nothing but a flaming skull as a head spoke up. "They are but wayward souls who have lost the one who gave them any direction. Why not see this as an opportunity for us. Their desperation should make them ripe for the picking. Deals to be made."

"Alas, you will find no luck with that," Alastor piped in. "They completely abhor any Overlord and only believe their souls are safe in the possession of their Shepherd."

"This is true," Camilla went on. "Which brings us to the upheaval. This group is banding together, and recruiting any new or available souls they find. I have learned that they have elaborate rituals where they continue to promise their souls to Isobel. They are now even going after those already under contract, trying to break or resolve deals."

"Ah, zealotry at its finest," Alastor joked.

"You make light of this, Alastor," Camilla turned to him leaning on the table in a vaguely threatening manner. "But this predicament is arguably your fault. You were the closest to her, saw this unraveling, and failed to act before it was too late. I don't know if you were blinded by infatuation or just wanted to see chaos, but you had the ability to end this before it started, and yet did nothing."

His eyes shot daggers, yet his smile remained.

"Well, you know me," he said lightly. "I was always a sucker for a pretty face." Rosie smiled to herself under her hat as she held back a laugh. Alastor placed his elbows on the table and pressed his fingertips together making a tent under his chin. "If you are having an issue controlling the souls under your command, that sounds like a 'you' problem. I, myself, am not having those issues. My thralls are firmly in control. I have made sure of it, and suggest you all do the same." He leaned back in his chair to show how unbothered he was. "You are overreacting. Without their leader, this group will eventually fade away."

Camilla was not happy with Alastor's assessment and looked for more voices for her side.

"And what about you?" she addressed the Vs. She could always count on them to disagree with Alastor, no matter what he said. "You three have been unusually quiet."

Vox was leaning to one side, elbow propped on the chair arm and chin resting on his fist. He glanced to either side at Valentino and Velvette who flanked him. They exchanged looks before Vox sat up tall tugging at his vest. He took a loud breath in before saying, "I agree with Alastor."

This shocked most at the table, including Alastor, himself. He forgot to conceal the reaction on his face..

Vox continued. "We're not worried. In fact we have big things coming up and don't really see these people being of any concern to us."

"Oh really?" Camilla said, hands on hips and angry eyebrows raised. "Care to share your big plans here?"

"Now, now," Vox shook his head. "All things in their time."

"Very well." Camilla sighed. Obviously her plea to take this situation seriously was not going to get the response she had wanted. "Before we end, is there anything anyone else would like to say?"

"I wonder, what has happened to Isobel?" In unison, all heads turned toward the foot of the table where Zestial sat, tea cup in hand and staring off toward nowhere in particular. "Her mortal form has perished, many did witness. But no body remaineth. And surely she hath manifested in demon form by now. Unless, that is, she now resides in the heavens, though that seems rather unlikely." All remained silent. Zestial shrugged and took another sip of tea. "Just musing."

The meeting concluded and the Overlords trickled out. Alastor rode the elevator down alone, thinking dark thoughts along the way, and as he stepped out onto the street he found the Vs. They were having a hushed conversation, but stopped as they saw him. All three smiled like sycophant goblins at him. He held their gazes for a movement and then turned on his heel to depart. But Vox could not help himself.

"Not concerned with what's going on, huh, Alastor? That's pretty bold of you."

He stopped and glared over his shoulder. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"Well, I would think they considered you public enemy number one. I mean after what happened and all."

Alastor turned, chin held high and cane firmly planted in front of him. "And what do you know about what happened? As I remember you were not there."

"True, true," Vox took a couple of steps bringing him square with Alastor. Several sinners on the street took notice of this and began to move in the opposite direction. "But people talk, things are said."

"Rumors and lies?"

Vox shrugged, "Or maybe just information." He smiled, showing the blue glow of his jagged teeth. Alastor rolled his eyes in an effort to show his disinterest.

"If there is not point to this interaction, I will be on my way."

"I know what you did, Alastor." The statement stopped him in his tracks. "And soon everyone else will know too. And then you may have more to be concerned about than you think."

Alastor's grip tightened around his cane. "As I said, I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure, sure," Vox gave a little wave over his shoulder as he turned to walk away followed by Velvette and Valentino, the last of which blew a kiss as they departed.