[Trigger Warning: Suicide. A TLDR has been provided at the end of the chapter for those who wish to skip it.]
Lord Callum McCarthy was not a bad person. At least, he didn't think he was. But maybe he was wrong? He was so confused.
After his daughter died, he'd had nowhere to point his grief. The man who'd hit her died in the same impact as Elida did, and the little girl who was playing in the snow could hardly be blamed. It was the worst Yule present Callum ever received, and he never got over it.
He tried to give himself closure. He took therapy, he cried on his wife's shoulder, he erected a monument in his daughter's honor, but nothing worked to numb the pain. His baby's absence was a hole in his heart, and it bled endlessly.
The final straw was when a family friend confessed to seeing Elida in a dream. She said something about a little orphan boy needing help from the witches, but Callum hadn't really been listening past hearing his daughter's name. What kind of cruel universe allowed a coven member to see his baby girl when he couldn't? He was her father. If anyone got to speak with her soul, it should be him.
He spiraled after that, pulling away from his wife whenever she tried to help him. He didn't want help anymore; he wanted it to end. He wanted his daughter back. He wanted to hand her a box of matches so they could burn this cruel and inhumane world to the ground together.
One morning, he woke up before the crack of dawn, kissing his wife's forehead softly. He wrote her a farewell note and placed it beside her incense burner where he knew she'd find it. He'd miss her, but he had to see Elida. He couldn't bear the grief any longer.
Dressing in his finest kilt, Callum visited his daughter's childhood bedroom one last time. It had once been full of stuffed animals and building blocks. Slowly, over time, the children's toys were replaced with books, hobby tools, and artwork. When Elida died, he'd insisted that the room be preserved exactly how she'd left it. Only himself, his wife, and the housekeepers were allowed in. They kept it well dusted, but otherwise untouched.
He picked up her favorite blanket. It was a baby gift, knitted with a mother's love and a witch's blessing of comfort. She'd been swaddled in it as an infant, and she'd dragged it around for as long as she could walk. Elida had always kept it clean and close. She liked to wear it like a shawl during their Yule celebrations to remind her of all the childhood magic her family created for her. She'd brought it with her to their home every year. But in the holiday excitement that fateful day, she'd forgotten it. Callum put it in her room, expecting that she'd come back to get it. She never did.
He held it to his chest, fresh tears stinging his eyes. He'd bring it with him. She'd want it back. He wanted her back. He needed her back. Sweet mercy, it hurt so bad…
Wrapping the blanket around himself like a sash, he pinned it in place to ensure it wouldn't fall off. When he was finally ready, he took one of the cars and drove off. He gripped the steering wheel with shaking hands. The sky was starting to show the faintest signs of sunlight glowing beyond the horizon. Dark shadows silhouetted the sides of the road, passing by as he drove further and further out of town.
The spell on his daughter's baby blanket helped ease his anxiety. He was scared, but resolute. He had to do this. He couldn't continue on like he had. Not anymore. No more.
By the time he got to the cliff, the sun was rising. He left the keys on the car's seat; he wouldn't need them anymore. Swinging his legs over the cliffside fence, Callum took in the last sight he'd ever see.
The sky painted itself vibrant shades of pink and orange. Puffy clouds floated softly around the sun's glow. Songbirds chirped their salutations. Beside him, a bush rustled. He turned to see a doe watching him. Her nose twitched at him.
"Hello there," he greeted softly. "Come to send me off?"
Strangely, the doe didn't run. She may have recognized his scent; he'd lived here for a long time, after all. Or maybe she could just sense that he meant no harm. It didn't matter. She stood unafraid.
He plucked a small branch from a bush growing beside where he sat. He held it out toward her. Cautiously, the doe approached. She sniffed the treat. Deciding she wanted it, she tore a few leaves off, allowing Callum to pet her while she ate her breakfast.
"Are you a parent, too?" he asked her. "Have you ever lost a child?"
The doe didn't answer. Her soft eyes blinked at him, almost like she was listening.
"I thought that the pain would subside with time," he confessed quietly, "but it never did. It's been years, now. I just can't do it. I'm not strong enough. Not like my wife is, and not like my kid was. She was tough, but she got it all from her mother." He turned the branch, giving the doe access to the uneaten side.
"I keep wondering what I could have done to prevent what happened. Maybe if I'd insisted she stay over for the night, or if I'd sent her home a little earlier, or…" he sighed, "I don't know. Something. But she had to get home right at that exact moment. And I had to learn about what happened from a cop in the middle of the night… on Christmas of all days…"
A lump formed in his throat. The memory of police lights glowing on the fresh snow beside his wife's prized yule tree forcing its way into his mind. "I can't-" he choked back a sob, "I can't live with this anymore."
The doe finished the branch. She looked up at him, nudged his hand with her nose, then turned to leave. He watched her prance off, disappearing into the trees. "I hope you don't ever feel this way," he whispered to the empty air in her general direction.
Callum turned back to the cliff, looking down at the rough stone that would finally end his suffering. It waited for him several hundred meters away. It would be quick. There was no chance of survival at this height; just like he wanted.
He closed his eyes, letting the cool morning wind kiss his cheeks. The world was fragrant with the smell of trees. Elida would have loved it.
Trembling, he turned around. He grasped the cliffside fence, leaning back precariously. It was finally time. "I'm coming, little firecracker," he whispered like a prayer. Then, with a deep, cleansing breath, he let go.
Down,
Down,
Down he fell. Everything slowed. Seconds seemed like an eternity. He felt like a bird in flight, gliding through the morning sunbeams. A songbird fluttered past him while he descended. In slow motion, they made eye contact with one another. It was a male carrying a worm in his beak; A father returning to his child, just like Callum. The bird's eyes flashed with kinship. In that sliver of an instant, they understood each other.
When he hit the ground, he didn't feel the pain of impact. It was too quick. Before he knew it, his soul stood over his broken body. He watched the blood pool around his dead form, not unlike how Elida's had when she'd died. His wife would be upset, but she had her coven for comfort. Callum never had that for himself. Now he was free.
Slowly, he found that his feet were rising up off the ground. He examined his hands; his skin glowed white and clean. Were those wings? He wrapped the strange new limbs around himself, examining the silky feathers. Did Elida have wings, too? If anyone could earn them, it would be her. He couldn't wait to hug her again.
As he rose higher and higher, he watched the sun rise with him. A new dawn; how appropriate. He felt more peaceful than he had in years. Finally, he arrived at the famous Pearly Gates.
An angel, presumably Saint Peter himself, greeted him with a smile. "Hi there! Welcome to Heaven! Can I get your name, please?"
"Callum Aidan McCarthy," he answered confidently. "Where is my daughter?"
"Callum McCarthy," Saint Peter muttered, checking his big golden book. "Hm… Ah! There you- oh. Fuck me…"
Callum raised an eyebrow, "Something wrong?"
Saint Peter cleared his throat nervously, "Um… No, of course not! Ha, why would anything be wrong? This is Heaven. It's the perfect afterlife!" He pulled, of all things, a phone from a pocket in his robes. "Could you excuse me for just a moment?"
That seemed like a weird reaction, but Callum had never died before, so he didn't know what was considered normal behavior. He waited while the gatekeeper whispered frantically into his phone, talking to who knows who. Callum couldn't hear him. When Peter finally put the phone away, he plastered a fresh, and far less sincere smile on his face.
"Hah, sorry about that," he said, eyes shifting side to side suspiciously. "You just sit tight, and they'll be here soon to take care of you."
Before he could respond, Peter ducked behind his podium, almost like he was hiding. Callum tried to ask a few questions, but Peter refused to come back out, pretending like he wasn't even there.
"McCarthy? Elida's father?" A new voice spoke. Callum turned to see a different angel stepping out of what looked like some kind of portal. She held a gleaming spear in her hand and wore a strange horned helmet.
He nodded in response, "Yes, that's me. Where is she? I need to see her."
An almost cruel smirk fell across the angel's face. "Oh, you'll see her, alright."
The darkness in this angel's gaze was frightening, and it caught Callum off guard. He took an involuntary step back. "Who are you? Where's my daughter?"
The angel didn't give him a name. Instead, she said, "Give your icy little bitch a message for me: Tell her to give Lute back. If she's not returned safely by the next full moon, then we don't care what the Seraphim say, the exorcists will bring a rain of blood upon her filthy little demon friends unlike anything Hell has ever seen. Sera might need more proof that she's the one who took Lute, but the rest of us couldn't give a shit about their stupid divine politics. Ambassador or no, we want our sister back."
"What are you talking about?" Callum asked, backing away fearfully, "I don't understand."
"Your cunt daughter will," the angel said, before stabbing him in the leg.
He screamed, golden blood dripping onto the ground by his feet. While he was distracted with the pain, the evil angel knocked him to his knees, tearing his brand-new halo from his head. He didn't even know he had a halo to lose.
"You didn't seriously think we'd let you into Heaven after everything your daughter has done to fuck with our shit?" She hissed into his ear. "Have fun burning, bitch."
She broke his wings, then kicked him in the stomach. The force of the blow sent him careening over the edge of Heaven's greeting platform. For the second time that day, he was falling.
Down,
Down,
Down he went. It was much further this time. He watched the Pearly Gates grow smaller and smaller until heaven looked like nothing more than a distant planet in the sky. He reached Earth, but the ground didn't break his fall. Instead, he kept going deeper. The ground buried his soul.
It got hotter. He got scared. Why was this happening?
He emerged into a massive pit, the sounds of screams reaching his ears. Everything was on fire. Callum coughed, choking on the thick smoke and fumes. He kept falling, but there was nothing he could do.
However, before he could hit the ground, a sharp-toothed man with six wings and skin as white as chalk caught him. The impact hurt, and Callum cried out in misery. The strange, winged man hovered in the air, examining Callum's injured form.
"A friend of mine's sister asked me to come catch you," the man said, "but honestly I thought it was just a prank call until now."
"Wha…?"
"What's your name, bird-guy?"
Callum's head hurt. His stomach hurt. His wings hurt. Everything hurt. It was too hot. "Bird-guy?"
"My golly," the man sighed, "you must be newly dead, huh? Have you even had the chance to look in a mirror yet?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Tell me your name, kid."
Callum hadn't been called kid in ages. Who even was this guy? "I'm Callum."
"Callum what?"
"McCarthy."
The sharp-toothed man frowned, a hint of shock and concern on his face. "As in… Elida McCarthy?"
That got Callum's attention. He perked up, desperately clutching the man's strange white carnival suit. "Yes! That's my daughter! Where is she? I need to see her, please!"
"Fuuuuuck," The man cringed. "Okay. That's… damn. She's not going to be happy. I hope she doesn't cause another blizzard. The last one was a fucking nightmare."
"What?"
"Nothing. Let's go."
The strange man waved an apple-staff in the air, opening up another portal not unlike the one the evil angel had used. He carried Callum through it. They appeared at the entrance of a large building. A brightly lit sign marked it as the 'Hazbin Hotel.'
"Charlie, dear," the man called as he walked in, "we have a problem."
A young woman in a red suit poked her head through a door. She was the spitting image of the man with the sharp teeth. "Dad? What's going on?" She caught sight of Callum and gasped. "Oh shit, what happened?"
"Where is our pretty little potion maker?" he asked her.
"She's out with Alastor," Charlie answered. "I don't know where."
"We need to get ahold of her."
"Who is this guy?"
"This is her dad."
Everyone in the hotel, a considerable number of strange-looking monsters that Callum was too dizzy to even notice at first, all turned and stared. They whispered to each other, giving him the side-eye. Callum didn't have the energy to care. The man carrying him kept talking, but Callum couldn't hear it. He passed out, unable to stay awake any longer.
Lucifer felt Elida's father go limp. "Fuck, he's out."
Vaggie set her spear down, checking the man's eyes. He was unconscious, but he would live. Her mind flashed back to when she'd lost her own halo. The pain, the dizziness, the exhaustion, it had knocked her out, too. "We should put him in a room. I'll call Elida."
"But… I thought her parents were both still alive," Charlie frowned.
"Not anymore, apparently," Lucifer frowned back.
"Why is he even down here?" Charlie asked, rushing to the front desk to find him a room key. "He's obviously not a demon."
Vaggie glowered, "I bet it was Lute. She couldn't get to Elida, so instead she's taking it out on the people she loves."
"We can ask him about it when he wakes up," Lucifer said.
They put Callum in a room, gently tucking him under the soft covers of a freshly made bed. Charlie set a few choice potions on his bedside table, along with a note explaining that he was safe. Then they left, giving him his privacy.
Elida wasn't picking up. They called; no answer. They texted; no answer. They tried calling again; no answer. They wished Alastor had a phone. Charlie thought about messaging the Vees to see if they could get ahold of her, but she decided against it. She didn't know if it was a good idea to tell them about Elida's dad, especially not before she knew it herself.
Lucifer texted the weird mushroom witch who'd tipped him off in the first place, asking her to let Elida know she needed to check her phone. But after several hours of no response, they all collectively decided it would be better to just wait.
Eventually, Callum woke up and came back downstairs, leaning heavily on the wall for support. He shouldn't have been up and walking, but he went straight for the potion shop in the corner. Apparently, he recognized Elida's handiwork.
Everyone watched with interest as he rifled through Elida's ingredients, tossing a few herbs into a mortar and pestle, then crushing them and boiling them in her cauldron. Demons stared at him, but no one approached. They didn't know how Elida would react to any perceived slights against her father, and no one knew what he was capable of on his own. Better to tread with caution first.
"What should we do?" Charlie whispered to her girlfriend.
"Let me handle it," Vaggie whispered back. "I know what he's going through right now. I've been there."
"Okay. If you're sure."
Vaggie squeezed Charlie's hand, then walked up to Elida's dad. "Hey, how are you holding up?"
"I don't know how to answer that," he said flatly.
"The lightheadedness will go away, and you'll get used to the heat sooner than you think."
"I need to see my daughter." He didn't look at Vaggie, instead finishing what appeared to be some magically infused herbal tea. He sipped at it, sighing with relief. His skin glowed similarly to how Elida's always did.
"We've been trying to call her," Vaggie told him. "But Elida is out right now."
He looked up, "you know her?"
"She lives here in the hotel with us. I'm sure she'll be back soon."
"We're in Hell, aren't we?"
"Yes," Vaggie said plainly.
"Why is my daughter in Hell?"
"She's not a demon, if that's what you're worried about," Vaggie reassured him. "She's here on a charity project. She's been helping us out."
"Helping with what?"
"Maybe you should sit down. I'll set your wings back into place while I explain."
Vaggie did just that. As painlessly as she could manage, she put his wings' bones back where they should be. He hissed in pain, but didn't stop her. She told him what the hotel was, and why Elida was there. She told him about the potion shop, the exorcists, the assassination attempt, all of it. Well… everything except Alastor. That seemed like something that needed to be more of a personal conversation between him and Elida.
Callum didn't interrupt her while she spoke, instead listening to every word with rapt attention. When she'd finished, he sat quietly, nursing his tea with a far off look in his eyes.
Outside, the sound of a horse's hooves approached the door. It neighed and clomped before coming to a stop. Callum's eyes followed Vaggie's gaze, locking on the hotel entrance. The door opened, and there she was; his precious little firecracker.
He stood up far too quickly, fresh tears threatening to fall once again. Her soul was so beautiful. Silky blue wings draped behind her, a shining halo on her head like the crown she always deserved. She may have new hooves and the ears of a deer, but it was definitely her. She was smiling up at another faun-like soul: A red man with a wide grin and a dark aura.
Then Elida spotted her father. Her smile dropped. That famous businesswoman's poker face hid any hint of a reaction to his presence there. She blinked slowly, then he heard the voice he missed more than anything in the world call out to him, "Dad?"
He rushed forward, crushing her in a hug filled with more love and pain than words could express. All he managed to get out was a weak and strangled, "I'm so proud of you."
[TLDR: Elida's dad, whose name is Callum McCarthy, misses her so bad he commits suicide to be with her. He jumps off a cliff, giving his soul some bird-like characteristics. He ascends to heaven, only for Saint Peter to call an exorcist. The exorcist tells him to tell Elida they want Lute back, or else they'll start the war no matter what the Seraphim say. The exorcist steals Callum's halo, casting him into Hell. Lucifer is tipped off by Shrewm, and catches Callum before he hits the ground. They take him back to the hotel, where Vaggie comforts him until Elida returns.]