Chapter Two

For Everything There Is a Season

One month later...

Week One, Day One - Hazbin Hotel bar, very early morning:

"This time, Vaggie is actually going to kill you."

Angel Dust laughed at Husk's warning. "I'm counting on Em to protect me." His eyes twinkled as he watched Husk examine the wedding gifts. He was going to be paying them off with parts of his first few paychecks, but it was going to be so worth it for the impending attempted murder.

Husk picked up one of the collars out of the box Angel Dust had brought home from work. The name VAGGIE was emblazoned on the front of the collar with shimmering gem dust. A medallion hung from it, in addition to the attached leash. An embossed image of Charlie Morningstar's smiling face adorned one side. He flipped the medallion over and read aloud.

"If. Lost. Please. Return. To. Charlie. At. The. Hazbin. Hotel."

Husk smirked. "The most evil part of this is that they're a matched set," he praised as he placed the VAGGIE collar back into the box next to the one bearing the name EMILY. "So you know she'll feel pressured to wear it when Emily wants to wear hers."

Husk closed the box, observing the logo of the newly renovated and rebranded The Bondage Club." And you know that dear angel will want to flaunt the gift. If only because people will get a kick out of seeing her wear it. Girl likes to make people happy."

"Fuck, I think it will make Em happy." Angel Dust stifled a yawn. "That sweet thing is hiding a whole mess of kink." In his assessment, mostly from herself.

Husk gave a purring chuckle. "Well, I think it's going to come down to how Charlie reacts. After the initial embarrassment. I could see that going either way."

Angel Dust stretched and took another swig of his coffee. "Roughest part of this gig is the hours. The Bondage Club's been back up and running for a week, and I still haven't adjusted to working nights." He sighed. "I'll make it through breakfast, but I'm going to have to bail on Charlie's exercises again. At this rate, I'll never get into Heaven."

Husk rolled his eyes. "You know as well as I do it doesn't work that way." He took a drink from his own Fuck Mondays cup. "Besides, the girls are headed off on a Heaven Date today, so I doubt there will be much in the way of morning activities for you to miss."

"Nice. Both for them and for my sleep." Angel Dust admitted, "I'm liking this new approach Charlie's taking, focusing on making really good lessons a few times a week rather than daily trust falls. That got old fast."

"Figure the therapy's working." Husk nodded, taking another sip. He looked down at his cup. "I swear, coffee tastes weird without whiskey in it." His eyes shift to the slogan. "And hey, thanks again for the intervention last week."

"You know I'm there for you." Angel Dust smiled. He looked at the cup as well, and waited for Husk to take another swallow before adding lightly, "You know Niffty tried to make Lute a shirt that said I'm Monday?"

Husk spit his coffee. "What!?"

"Hey, at least she's not shipping her and Valentino anymore," Angel Dust laughed. "Don't worry. Lute shut her down. Our little gremlin's already moved on. I think Niffty's cycling through every straight relationship she can come up with for the woman until she lands on something Lute will let her play with."

Husk shook his head.

"Hey, I've got the weekend off," Angel Dust offered. "We should do something. Just you and me. Feels like it's been ages."

"What did you have in mind?"

Week One, Day One - Lute's bedroom, early morning:

Lute awoke with her heart pounding in her chest. Her body was damp with sweat that stained her nightwear gold. She flailed a moment, disentangling herself from the sheet that had snaked around her in the night. Then collapsed back onto the bed.

Fuck me!

Adam's voice still rang in her ears. No matter how many times she relived that dream, it was always as vicious as the first.

You thought you deserved Heaven? Love? Power? God, you're more pathetic than I thought, Lute. Fuckin' die already.

It had been a month. And yet she drowned in terror and anguish at least every third night. How long were the nightmares going to last? How long was that abomination's power going to keep torturing her in her sleep?

Or was it already done, and this was just her own conscience punishing her?

At least it wasn't the Throne this time.

She couldn't remember the Throne itself. Or what any of the Elders Above looked like. But she could remember herself with agonizing clarity. She hadn't just been forced to see her wretched core for what she really was... she was being strapped down and forced to stare at it with her eyes clamped open on a regular basis.

Fuck! Me!

If nothing else, it gave her motivation to indulge Miss Sunshine and Rainbows and make the effort to be a better person. If only to kill that thing she used to be.

Lute got up and trudged to the shower, tossing her nightwear to the floor. Niffty would wash it. Probably by tonight. Otherwise, she would sleep naked. She should really get a second pair.

Lute closed herself in the shower and turned on the water, letting it spray down like a harsh rain, washing the night sweats from her skin. And she prayed.

Lute still believed. Above the Elders Above, above the Throne, there must be a God. She was a fallen angel. But maybe, if there was mercy above Heaven, God was still listening to her.

Eventually, she shut off the water.

Got out of the shower. Got dressed. Checked the door. The deadbolt clicked back with ease, just like it was supposed to. The door opened. She had Keekee's blessing to move about the hotel this morning.

Lute stepped out into the hall and froze as her sudden appearance caught Vaggie by surprise. The angel she had maimed relaxed her defensive stance and put away the spear she had drawn on instinct.

"S-sorry," Vaggie stammered.

"Why?" Lute asked. Vaggie had every right to that reaction. There was no reason, no excuse, to apologize to her abuser for being a victim. Vaggie was better than that. "Stop being weak."

Vaggie's expression hardened, offended. "You really are just the worst." She spun and strode off.

Lute accepted that. She reached back and closed her door. Then followed at a distance, moving towards breakfast.

Week One, Day One - Charlie's, Vaggie's and Emily's bedroom, early morning:

Charlie re-entered her bedroom. "I'll be right down," she called back to Emily. Then shut the door, leaning against it and letting out a breath.

She put a hand between her breasts, as if feeling the swelling of her heart at the sound of Emily's voice carrying down the hallway. She smiled. Then screwed up her focus.

Right.

Charlie walked over to her dresser, opening the top drawer and pushing aside her socks to grab the dry erase markers. She reached behind the dresser and pulled out her whiteboard.

She stood up over it, contemplating. The board was no longer about trying to find her mother. When she learned where her mother was - learned her mother was Conquest - it became something different. Her way of trying to understand what was going on. Because if she could understand it, she could get ahead of it. If she couldn't stop it, at least she could help pull innocent souls out of its path.

She made several changes to the board the day after she learned the truth about her mother. But not one since.

There were still seven boxes along the top. The first three were labeled: Alastor, Victor, Mom. The other four all had question marks. Only now, the circle that was labeled The Real Horsemen had been moved to include Mom. Leaving one box at the end a complete unknown.

The Real Horsemen no longer had a question mark. And was written in green.

And on the line of seven boxes below, next to Victor's Cage, L+F was written her mother's Heaven/Lilith.

Now, she erased the note on the right and placed it on the left.

At least seven

Sinners powerful on arrival

Disappeared 7 1/2 years ago

Coming back?

And on the right, she added a new column:

Questions I'm forgetting to ask.

Unfortunately, she didn't have anything to put under that. She felt there were several questions that needed to be listed.

Her eyes glanced over the final column, on the left below the first.

Where?

How?

By who?

And below that: All different?

And then finally down to the big circle at the bottom. This one too had changed. Where she had once enigmatically written The Root, there was another note. Thanks to her dad, she now knew half of what the root was. And knew there was a second half.

The Throne / ?

Finally, the new circle. The lines from six of the seven lower boxes went to The Root. But the one that started with Victor and then Cage, L+F now veered off, drawn in a different color (magenta) to a new circle. With a new question mark. Because a third player had tried to insert themselves.

If there was someone or something acting against the forces fucking with her family, she wanted to know. Maybe reach out. Although she wasn't counting on the source of Pestilence to be any ally. She had a thin hope. But Charlie would be happy just if they weren't another problem.

Charlie looked back to the top. To that odd box out. It bothered her.

Things made more sense, were more interconnected and villain-scheme-like when there wasn't some unknown figure that didn't seem to fit into the rest of the pattern. Which meant the pattern wasn't what she thought it was, or she was missing something.

Charlie's stomach rumbled.

Other than breakfast. She was definitely missing breakfast.

Quickly, she wrote under her questions column: Who is the seventh and why are they different?

No. That wasn't right. She needed to be smart and not make assumptions. Charlie crossed out one word.

Who is the seventh and why are they different?

Then she put away the whiteboard and markers and hurried off to join everyone downstairs.

Week One, Day One - Hazbin Hotel, breakfast:

"...and then, get this, seventeen flamingos." Vaggie was telling them. "I swear, if it wasn't for those flamingos, I never would have spent a year learning Latin dance."

There was laughter around the table.

Lute ate in silence at the far corner of the table, listening to the camaraderie that bubbled through the room. On the opposite corner, she saw Razzle tapping his fork against his plate in applause.

"Whoa, I knew it!" Angel Dust joked. "Like the Salsa and the Rumba?"

"You're mixing ballroom and social... and it doesn't matter because I'm not putting on a dance for you." Vaggie gave the demonic spider a knowing look. "So no steamy dancing gowns. They won't be worn."

At Emily's gasp of delight, Vaggie shut her down. "I said no. Not giving these guys a show."

"But I want a show!" Emily protested. "Please?" She moved to pass Razzle the jam platter with a smile. It was nice having him at the table now.

"Wait, did I hear that? Flamingos?" Crymini asked, pulling an earbud out of one ear. "The pink plastic lawn birds?"

Vaggie nodded. Then caught Angel Dust fishing out his phone. "No! This is also not an excuse to get me something pink for my wardrobe." She quickly added, "Or plastic."

"So, pink and plastic." Husk beat Angel Dust to saying it.

Vaggie shot them both mock-threatening looks as Angel Dust started browsing on his phone.

"Oh, I've got just the thing," Cherri Bomb announced. "How about a pink, plastic No Horny bat? That way, ya have something to smack him with when he's like this that isn't angelic steel. I know where I could get one."

Angel Dust gasped. "You traitor."

Vaggie considered, "I... I would actually have use for that."

Husk raised his eyebrows. "Where would you get something like that?" A pause. "And do they come in red and black?"

"Just got to know the right succubus," Cherri Bomb claimed.

Crymini put her earbuds back in. Then looked up as Charlie joined them. She gave two claps. "All hail the Heroine of Hell."

Charlie stopped, blinking.

Razzle turned and waved at her, toast hanging from his closed mouth, his muzzle smeared with jam.

Cherry Bomb laughed. "Now that's an Alastor-in-the-headlights look," she snorted. "Cunt, the Battle at the Hazbin Hotel was less than two months ago. And then ya led a musical number on live television. Just because the Vees ain't pushin' it anymore doesn't mean the buzz has died down yet. I've seen your face in graffiti."

Angel Dust added, "And on t-shirts. Granted, I've seen Vaggie on more. But not her face."

"Bat," Vaggie growled. "Order it now."

Crymini pulled out one of her earbuds and waved it. "You're on the news right now."

That drew the attention of the room.

"What's Vox saying about me?" Charlie asked trepidatiously as she took her seat.

Crymini snorted derisively. "Fuck that guy. After what Cherri told me about his hypno-shit? Never watching TV again." She put her earbud back in. "This is Alastor's program."

"Alastor's talking about me?" Charlie asked as she got herself some fancy toast.

"Alastor's talking about her?" Vaggie asked cautiously, a growl lurking at the edge of her tone.

Crymini blinked. She looked at all the surprised and concerned expressions at that table, all focused on her. The puppy teen narrowed her eyes. "None of you listen?"

"I do!" Niffty volunteered through the kitchen door.

Déjà vu.

"I've heard enough of them for an eternity," Husk told her.

Charlie frowned. Then got up from the table, having not touched her breakfast.

"Charlie?" Vaggie asked, concerned.

Charlie smiled, waving off her concern. "Nothing's wrong. I just thought of something I forgot to ask. Gonna go jot it down."

Week One, Day One - Vees Tower, morning:

"...destroyed our facilities. Attacked me. Three times! And sucked away your viewers like a whore sucking a cock dry." Valentino raged. Again. "And I'm sick of doing nothing about it!"

Vox sighed. One more day he had to steer the ship while keeping Valentino on a leash like the man was rabid. Was the sex even worth it anymore?

"And while we're talking about shit we're not doing anything about..."

Please don't be about the princess' hotel. Or Angel Dust. Or...

"...How about fucking Asmodeus trying to slip into my business?"

Vox's head crackled. "You want to take on a Deadly Sin now?"

The far door slid open. Vox watched Velvette walk in, face buried in her phone. So, clearly, no help was coming from that corner.

"He's bought up not one, not two, but four businesses across town," Valentino continued to rant. "That's an invasion!"

Funny he should say that.

Velvette looked up from whatever she was texting. "What's this now?"

Vox started to answer, but Valentino verbally assaulted her with his entire rant, new and improved, now with more expletives and exclamation points.

"Well, if he's a threat to your business, maybe try making better products?" Velvette suggested cattily.

"If we could actually focus on a more pressing issue..." Vox started to say.

"He's reportedly the weakest of the Sins," Valentino's voice was suddenly a purr, switching demeanors with the deftness of a serial spouse abuser. "And taking him down would be a real notch on our belt."

Vox frowned. Valentino wasn't wrong that they had taken a number of hits last month and could use a big win. But even if this was a good idea, and it would take a lot for him to become convinced it was, there was an obvious... logistics problem.

"Good fucking luck!" Velvette laughed brashly at Valentino. "In case you've forgotten, Asmodeus lives in Lust. That's three Rings down. Even the Union can't smuggle you into another Ring. And he sure as shit ain't coming up here."

Funny she should say that.

Valentino purred again, his voice poisonously smooth. "But he is."

What?

"Asmodeus. Is coming here? To Pride?" Vox clarified farther. "To Pentagram City?"

"Yes," Valentino smirked. "For the royal wedding of Lucifer's little whore daughter."

Vox was surprised at the crack of Velvette slamming her phone on the table. "You want to fuck with the wedding? Need I remind you the first page of the open guest list is a Who's Who of who can kick our asses?"

"Valentino, listen to Velvette," Vox suggested in as stern a voice as he could without peaking.

"Besides," Velvette added, "I'm already fucking with it. In a way that won't get us killed."

Valentino schmoozed back, "Well, I've already tapped some of my Favors."

"Then un-tap them," Vox demanded. He really didn't give a shit what Velvette was up to. But Valentino? It would be like a pipe bomb. Only instead of nails, it would be packed with dumpsters. All of which would be on fire.

Valentino scowled.

"Please," Vox added with maximum smarm. "I'll make it up to you. I promise."

The mothman made irritated moth noises. "Fine. You better make it worth it."

Vox steepled his fingers. "Excellent. Now, with that settled, let's move on to the reason for this meeting..."

"Fucking finally!" Velvette groused. "I don't got all fucking day."

Vox refrained from pointing out she was the last one here. Or the one paying the least attention. Or the one who had been arguing with Valentino.

Fuck my life.

"My friends," he began. "I think it's time we gave more attention to the Union."

Week One, Day One - Alastor's radio tower, morning:

Alastor heard the door into his radio tower open and close. But the intruder didn't climb up through the hatch. They waited until he had finished his broadcast. Such a polite invader.

He shut off the ON AIR sign and got up, stretching leisurely. Letting them wait a little longer. Then he used his microphone cane to open the hatch and peered down into the little vestibule between his tower and the hotel.

Charlie was waiting for him. Looking strong yet timid. She looked up at him, but still waited for him to come down to her level. Or was it just to acknowledge her? How polite.

Alastor stood above her. "Charlie. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" Invoking the last time she visited him here, he teased, "I promise, I have not been tormenting either of your wives."

Charlie smiled a little a that. "Thank you, Alastor. I... I have been thinking about things you told me. And I wanted to ask a couple of questions." She cocked her head and rolled her eyes, "I'm not willing to make a Deal for answers, so I know you might not give me any..." She looked at him with a slightly sheepish hope. "...But I'm hoping you will anyway?"

What a deer.

"Well, now..." He cocked his head unnaturally. "I'm pleased to hear you have been giving my words some thought."

With a crackle of old-timey radio distortion, Alastor said, "What harm is there in asking?"

Charlie looked him in the eyes. Not challengingly, but almost as a courtesy. Her voice dropped, likewise as a courtesy, he suspected. They would not be heard in here, but she was making it clear she took some secrets seriously.

"Last time I was here," Charlie reminded him, "You told me there is someone whose chain you want to see broken. Someone I've never met."

The air hummed with a crackling radio whine as Alastor's eyes narrowed, glowing.

"That person," Charlie asked. "Did they disappear seven and a half years ago?"

Well now that's interesting.

Alastor debated whether to answer. But such insight deserved a reward. How could he mold her without positive feedback when it was deserved. "Yes."

Charlie looked thankful. "And... is that person's chain held by a Horseman?"

The crackling whine abruptly shifted, climbing in decibels before snapping dangerously.

"That... is for me to know," Alastor told her. "Unless you are willing to make that Deal."

Week One, Day One - Heaven's Promenade, noon:

Charlie's spoon chimed as it landed in the crystal parfait chalice. She had ordered one much bigger than either of her wives and absolutely demolished it before they were through their fifth layers.

Charlie sighed contentedly. "Sorry. I missed breakfast."

"Yeah, well whose fault was that," Vaggie teased.

Charlie, Vaggie and Emily were enjoying their Heaven Date. The trip to the zoo had been mandated. And Charlie had insisted Vaggie hug every koala. Sitting at an outdoor ice cream shop table, enjoying their parfaits, the conversation eventually swung back to wedding plans.

"We should do away with the table for wedding gifts," Vaggie proposed. "I don't want people to feel like it's expected. Especially demons who can't afford it, like Crymini."

Charlie nodded, "Other than some of our friends, I don't think anyone in Hell would do that anyway... Well, maybe a few of the Sins."

Emily insisted, "We should keep one Heavenside though. Angels will bring gifts. Gift giving is a joy."

Charlie couldn't help but smile. "That's... really sweet. Opening presents is always fun!"

Heaven is amazing.

"...But we should make it clear that it's not expected. We really don't need presents." And with an afterthought, she added, "Also, is there a way to keep from getting presents from sources not invited?"

Vaggie noted, "We're pretty much inviting everyone."

Charlie couldn't disagree with that. It was open to public attendance. More than a wedding, this was a symbolic union of Heaven and Hell. And hopefully a big step towards healing on both sides. Besides, this way nobody was accidentally shunned with a forgotten invite.

"How about a gift list of some sort? Are those a thing?"

Vaggie smiled. "It's called a wedding registry, hon. And yeah, we could do that."

Charlie nodded, raising a finger and stating authoritatively, "First rule, no keys of any kind." That got a light laugh from both her wives.

"I'm a little frightened to see what angels would try to give to Charlie," Vaggie admitted.

Emily giggled playfully, "If we make a registry, we could tell them to give us more Charliegasm absorbers."

Charlie squeaked as she felt her world stumble. It took a moment to find her voice again.

"No, Emily. We already have three times as many as we needed at first. This is the point where my wives learn mercy and restraint."

"Mercy?" Vaggie asked, "What's that? Never heard of it."

They're going to destroy me.

Emily bounced. "Oh! Angel Dust could help us learn about restraints!"

Charlie gave a long suffering sigh. The fact that Vaggie wasn't rejecting Emily's suggestion outright told her that it was a friendly poking of her boundaries. Making her uncomfortable, but not too uncomfortable. She could handle it. Especially in Heaven, where the very air seemed to soothe nerves and bleed away stress.

I'm blushing aren't I? I'm sure I am.

Charlie groaned. Vaggie never did this before Emily. But there had been enough friends helping Vaggie to open up that she didn't feel she could lay this at the seraphim's feet.

"Okay, enough you two."

Vaggie relented immediately. Emily pouted but followed her lead.

"Sooo, looking forward to your turn to be giant women," Emily asked playfully.

Charlie smiled. Then stifled a little snicker. "If we're going to be eighty feet tall, how tall is Stolas going to be?" The wedding would take place in the Heaven's Embassy in Hell, but be broadcast throughout Heaven by means of Sir Pentious' Heavenly Projector, which he and his friends in Heaven's Science District had now upgraded well beyond the capabilities of the original. They had finally settled on Stolas to perform the ceremony. And the Ars Goetia towered over the rest of them.

"Taller than two Seras," Emily giggled.

The gentle wind shifted to bring new, delicate scents from one of Heaven's botanical gardens.

"You planning to flash all of Heaven again?" Vaggie prodded to Emily's exasperation.

"I didn't plan it the first time!" the young seraphim protested. She crossed her arms, getting her chance to groan in discomfort. "Even Carl thinks I'm an exhibitionist."

Vaggie's eyebrow rose. "Your therapist said you are an exhibitionist?"

"He asked if I thought my aversion to secrecy and desire for transparency fed into 'a private delight in failing to prevent exposing myself'..." Emily recited with perfect memory. She looked to her wives for support. "Excuse me, my what?!"

Charlie exchanged a look with Vaggie.

Emily pouted. "Like I intentionally didn't pay attention to that part of my Heavenly raiment. Like I seek out opportunities for that stuff to happen!"

"Don't you?" Charlie questioned.

Emily gave a betrayed whine. "No!" With a huff, she espoused, "I think it's Hell magic, getting back at us angels."

"Well..." Vaggie mulled that over. "I have strong inclination to believe that." She mouthed: too.

"If the way reality works in Hell was created by Lilith, maybe your mother's a pervert," Emily suggested. And immediately wanted to take it back. "I'm sorry. That was terrible!"

Charlie sighed. After what she had learned, she didn't know what to think of her mother. But she wasn't going to defend an abstract notion of her. As far as she knew, Emily could be right.

"Hey, you didn't mean anything hurtful by it. And I'm not hurt," Charlie assured her. She grimaced slightly. "I just wish I could see her." Charlie said, looking away.

Looking apologetic to the point of pain, Emily offered, "Maybe there is a way."

Week One, Day One - Charlie's, Vaggie's and Emily's bedroom, noon:

Niffty scurried about, cleaning the bedroom first. Everyone's room had a different cleaning pattern. Charlie's got the works.

Niffty checked all the lightbulbs. She checked the fasteners on the windows. She stripped the bed, piling the sheets.

The hyperactive maid quickly cleaned all the surfaces, swiftly yet carefully lifting anything on them to wipe beneath. She cleaned the windows and the mirrors - both above Charlie's dresser and in the bathroom. And she gave a sanitary polish to all the knobs and levers, first in the bedroom then in the bathroom.

Finally, she pulled out the whiteboard behind Charlie's dresser and wiped down the edges, clearing away dust and cobwebs. She looked it over to make sure she didn't smudge or wipe away anything written on it by accident.

"Oooh," she said, noting that there is new writing today. There hadn't been new writing in a month.

Questions I'm forgetting to ask:
- Is the one I've never met the seventh missing person?
- Are the missing people who are not Horsemen related to the Horsemen?
- ?

She slid the whiteboard back.

When she returned to her cart to get fresh linens for the bed, she found Keekee curled up on them. The cyclopean cat gave Niffty a disgruntled look for disturbing her linen throne. Niffty made up for it with scritches behind her ears.

Next was making the bed. Fresh linens every day for Charlie and her angels. Just in case they had fun the night before.

Cleaning the bathroom and vacuuming the carpet would come last.

Week One, Day One - Golden Library, Heaven, afternoon:

Emily guided Charlie to the viewing table. One side was lined with chairs, each before a glowing orb of soft, white light.

Vaggie pulled out one of the chairs for Charlie, who sat down, looking at the orb - a now very familiar element of Heaven's workings.

Emily reached out and touched the orb lightly. It pulsed in response. The colors in the center of the light shifted and changed.

Lilith was in a sequestered part of Heaven. None could go there who had not been there before.

There were several sequestered places in Heaven which Emily could access and bring guests into. Places Sera had taken her. Or places in Heaven which she witnessed the creation of, either through the Celestial Environmental System or by the Divine Intervention of an Elder Above. The latter had only happened once, and she saw nothing of the Elder Above but their holy light of creation. The sight had filled her with wonder and reverence.

The sequestered part of Heaven that Lilith hid in was not one of those. Emily herself could not enter it. The only angels who once could were now dead or fallen. Leaving the occupant "unaccounted for" in the eyes of the Court. Not that anyone in the Court knew, likely save Pravuil.

But she knew an angel, now fallen, who had been able to enter. Knew her name and the hour of her entry. Emily focused on that, and the orb's center shimmered and solidified into a beautiful beach under a serene, pastel sky rich with evening color.

"Mom..." Charlie whispered as the impossibly gorgeous woman in the lounge chair came into view.

Emily heard Lute's voice as the scene played out before Charlie.

"Adam is dead. Your deal is done. And I'm in charge now. Your brat is threatening the very foundation of Heaven." Lute's words grew hard and sharp as razors. "And if you want to stay here, you're going down there and stopping that bitch. Do you understand me, Lilith?"

The voice that replied was beautiful, seductive, powerful and dangerous in equal measure.

"You're blocking my light."

"Excuse me!?"

Charlie gasped at what she saw in the orb. Watched as Lilith picked up Adam's bloodstained halo and held it before her face, lifting her sunglasses to drink in the sight. A slight smile on her lips. Charlie flinched back as she watched her mother bring the halo closer and lick a splatter of Adam's blood from it. Then toss it at Lute, striking her in the breasts with it, leaving Adam's blood staining her uniform. "Go to Hell."

Lute stammered a moment, her voice filling with fury. "You are a demon and have no more place in Heaven than any of your wretched, degenerate subjects. Something both you and that cunt you birthed seem to be having trouble grasping. So let me make this very clear. Go down there and get that spawn of yours back in line right now or..."

Lilith began to laugh.

"Who do you think you are talking to?"

Emily looked at her wives. Vaggie's expression was hateful, and Emily couldn't blame her. Every word that Lute was saying made her loathe that angel more. She deserved to fall.

But Charlie was only paying attention to her mother. And she was growing pale.

"I know who you are, your royalness. The Queen of Hell in absentia! Hiding up here while we use your precious subjects' heads for basketball. Well, now it's your turn."

"I give orders, child. I don't take them. Especially not from a loser and a coward who fled the battle and left her boyfriend's body to rot. If Adam ever loved you - and loving anyone other than himself would be a first - then he made a mistake. I thought angels didn't make mistakes."

Lute made a choked sound, equal parts pain and fury.

Emily caught Vaggie forcing herself not to smile. Charlie, however, looked gutted.

"You are weak, Lute. And I don't have time for weakness. If you want someone to help you fix your shameful failure, try someone closer to your level. I'll give you some numbers."

Vaggie jolted. "Wait," she whispered. "Lilith directed Lute to the Vees?"

"But wag your filthy tongue at me one more time, and you'll learn for yourself why I always win."

Charlie turned away. "Turn it off."

Week One, Day One - Doomsday District, late afternoon:

"Think that's everyone," Cherri Bomb said, looking through a spyglass.

Crymini was laying on her back on the rooftop, head on the cornice, staring up at the pentagram. She pulled out her binoculars and tilted her head back to look. The dilapidated house came partially into view, upside down. She tilted more and lost it completely.

That was a mistake.

She thought it would be all lazy cool, but instead it just made looking at things difficult and gave her a touch of queasiness. With an internal growl, the permanently-teenage puppy demon rolled over and propped herself up to look properly.

"Shut it," she huffed as she heard Cherri Bomb snicker.

Finding the building again, she adjusted the focus. A motley collection of demons were gathered in front of the ramshackle, two-story house, barbequing what looked to be mostly rats, with a few hellravens thrown in. Crymini's stomach churned. Two months ago, that would have looked like a feast to her. One worth risking her neck over.

She focused on matching their numbers and appearances to the descriptions given by the few people they could get to talk in the tenement. "...Five, six, seven... and there's the raven demon. Yep. That's our crew."

Part of her head wanted to think about the connotations of a raven demon eating ravens. She pushed back on the distraction.

"Last chance to decide to go down there and talk to them nice," Cherri Bomb said. "Ya know Charlie would approve."

Crymini growled. To outsiders, the Doomsday District was nothing but a wartorn shithole. But there were people living here. People who didn't have anyplace else to go. Or who were running from someone worse than death. She knew. She'd been one of them.

"These fuckers have been terrorizing one of the only places in the DD that's not a complete sewer with their protection bullshit. Fuck 'em." She spat.

A flash of shiny metal caught her eye. "Jesus Christ, and they're packing silver," Crymini barked. Silver was faster, easier and less awkward to say than angelic steel. "Because of course they are."

"Won't help 'em," Cherri Bomb grinned. She had traded the spyglass for a rocket launcher. "Say goodbye, cunts! Catch ya again when ya respawn."

The rocket blasted out of the tube, leaving a wake of smoke as it shot through the air towards its targets like a ravenous shark.

Week One, Day One - Lute's bedroom, late afternoon:

Lute sat on her bed, watching Niffty hum to herself as the tiny woman threaded her sewing needle through the clothing she was stitching together. She had barely mentioned wanting a second set of bedwear and the gremlin had latched onto the chore like an Exorcist onto a fleeing Sinner.

Lute was convinced Niffty needed things to do. She was also one of the most driven to help that Lute had ever seen.

A month had given her time to better understand what and who Niffty was. The people here had been surprised and even dismayed when Niffty was the first in the Hotel she had trusted and given weight to. But they had (mostly) held their tongues and waited for her trauma-skewed initial impressions to crumble. For her to recognize the OCD and mentally under-developed little maniac for what she was. And for sanity to return things to order.

She watched Niffty kick her legs as the girl stitched together a simple nightgown for her to wear when her night terrors were so bad she sweated blood that turned her bedwear gold.

Fuck them.

Lute saw Niffty for what she was, and Lute was doubling the fuck down.

"I'm going to take a nap," Lute informed her. "Please don't stab me in my sleep."

Niffty nodded. "I promise you won't wake up stabbed."

Lute squinted. Then closed her eyes. "Sounds good." She leaned back, slowly slipping horizontal in the bed. Allowing herself to be completely vulnerable in the company of the woman who killed the man she loved.

Lute was almost horizontal when she felt the vibration. She opened her eyes and sat back up, bringing out a smartphone that nobody in the hotel knew she had. Until now. A gift from the woman calling her.

The phone identified the caller as SQB.

"Lute," she said, answering.

The screen filled with Velvette's face. "Think you can get free for lunch tomorrow? Cafe Magne? I've got something to show you."

"You found something?" After a month? Lute had abandoned that hope weeks ago.

"For your insane idea? No," Velvette told her. "Remains impossible. This is something more social. I think you'll like it"

A social call? Really?

Lute looked around at the walls of her bedroom. And shrugged. Why the fuck not? Being cooped up here wasn't proving great for her mental health. Not that Hell had fresh air.

Lute frowned. She wasn't strictly a prisoner. Sera had made sure Lute's Contract didn't allow someone to trap her in the hotel while everyone else was drawn away. But Lute couldn't just leave the hotel on her own whenever she wanted either. And definitely not for a clandestine meeting with someone half the others considered The Enemy. Not without a trusted member of Charlie's people, presumably Husk, there to supervise.

"I'll be bringing Niffty," Lute responded.

Velvette lifted an eyebrow. "The little goblin who shipped you with Val?" A grin slowly split her face. "HA! Perfect. I think she'll like it too."

Week One, Day One - Heaven's Promenade, early evening:

"I know money isn't a thing up here, but... I dunno..." Charlie made a rolling motion with one hand. "It feels weird not tipping the waiter. They were so nice and they did a wonderful job."

"Your gushing compliments were enough, sweetie," Vaggie assured her. Her stomach was full and her spirits were high. Despite being in Heaven, not because of it. The because came in the form of the two women walking beside her.

Dates in Heaven weren't a thing she particularly looked forward to. It was hard to look at the place and not think of how she saw it as an Exorcist. What living here was like in Adam's... well, quite frankly, cult. Or forget that said cult was authorized and empowered by the highest authority in Heaven.

Vaggie glanced upwards, towards the highest of heights. Towards the Throne.

Well, the highest authority in Heaven proper.

Dinner at Food for the Soul had been Vaggie's idea. After the Golden Library, Emily had whisked them to the Lenticular Gardens, trying to banish the dark metaphorical cloud that hung over their mutual wife. The beauty and serenity did help. The fragrances of the garden did soothe Charlie's heart. But not as much as Emily had hoped.

Despite Charlie's initial pushback and her afternoon parfait indulgence, the Heavenly cuisine had enchanted her. By the second course, Charlie's smile had returned. And she had eaten well.

"Nobody works in Heaven unless they want to," Emily stated happily, skipping along on the other side of Charlie. "But you would be surprised just how many souls want to. Loads of angels are just innately industrious. Or need to be doing things for others to really feel fulfilled..."

"Or are just bored," Vaggie interjected. "Forever is a long time."

"Sir Pentious is already looking for a new project," Emily chimed.

"I know, I know, I know," Charlie laughed. "I remember your joke: no crime, capitalism or cannibalism in Heaven. And I totally get the work being its own reward. I mean, look at the Hotel." She admitted, "It's just... weird."

"It's because there's no resource scarcity in Heaven," Vaggie informed her. Then stifled a chuckle. "And Charlie, love, let's be honest: you barely understand how money works in Hell. I've seen how you dump stacks of cash on people to just make things happen."

"That's how money works in Hell," Charlie retorted.

Vaggie rolled her eye, again reminded that she was the only one of her throuple who had once needed to work for a living. Best let this one just go.

Emily stopped skipping, her wings drooping a little. "Oh gosh. I never thought of that!" She looked to Vaggie. "Could you imagine how horrible it could become if basic resources were limited?"

Charlie blinked. "What do you mean?"

Oh boy.

"I mean, take for example... I dunno... gold," Emily started, dancing in front of them and turning to walk backwards while talking to her and Charlie.

Eyes on the back of your head must be nice.

Emily continued, "Could you imagine if there wasn't infinite gold?"

Charlie raised a finger, her brow furrowing. "Uh..."

"It takes a LOT of gold to make a street," Emily announced. "Imagine when the Hazbin Hotel really gets off the ground and souls are being redeemed every day. That's going to be a lot of new souls in Heaven. Sooner or later, it's going to start feeling a little crowded, right?"

Oh no.

Vaggie turned to see Charlie's face. Her eyes had widened, pupils dilating just a little. For her entire lifetime, she had seen her people being mercilessly slaughtered by Heaven's Exorcists, and the excuse she had been given was overpopulation.

Emily, love, your next words need to kill the seed you may have just planted in Charlie's head that pursuing her dream will cause overpopulation in Heaven.

"So Sera makes Heaven bigger. And that means more roads. But if gold was finite, there might not be enough to make all the streets, and then what?"

Not like that.

Emily paused. "I mean, sure, we could make them out of something else. We already have some silver streets for aesthetics. But the point is, angels would start to worry about things like that. About running out! There would be arguments. Loads of stress, all caused by just one resource being finite. That wouldn't be Heaven at all. That would be horrible!"

Vaggie watched her angel wife begin to tear up, her heart breaking. "And Hell has multiple resources that are finite?! Which ones?"

Vaggie's demon princess wasn't doing much better. Charlie had stopped. She was frowning in confusion. "What do you mean: Sera could just make Heaven bigger?"

At least Charlie's words rescued Emily from her empathy event horizon. The young seraphim stopped and tilted her head, confused at Charlie's confusion. "You know, add a new district." Emily explained, "Space is like resources. If you start to run out, you just make more."

Oh fuck.

"You can just make more space?"

Emily looked taken aback. She quickly waved her hands in negation. "I can't! I'm a seraphim, not an Elder. But... yeah. The Elders created Creation after all. Sera was part of that. She even made Adam and Lilith. Making more Heaven is easy for her. I've seen her do it."

Vaggie blinked. Okay, she knew the story. Both Heaven's version and Hell's. From the dust of the Earth they made Adam and Lilith. But the idea that Sera herself had personally been the one who made them had never occurred to her.

Well, I guess that makes her tolerance of Adam more understandable.

Emily looked upwards towards the tower of Heaven's Courthouse. "She even had an interface for the Celestial Environmental System installed in her office so she could do it without going outside." Emily sighed loudly. "Because... Sera."

"Charlie?" Vaggie asked cautiously. Her first love had grown quiet.

"Could my dad do that?" Charlie asked, her tone a little cold. Her faith in her parents was not in a good place. Between Lucifer's family secrets and Lilith's everything, Vaggie couldn't blame her.

Emily nodded. Then stopped, realizing what Charlie was really asking. "I... don't think so. When he was up here, Dad could have added to Heaven. But Hell was created by Evil creeping into Creation through the Other. Not by angels. I don't know what limits he would face. It's not the same as summoning up the foundation of a hotel."

"No, you're right," Charlie admitted, a little cross. "That would be the infinite resource thing." She held the bitterness only a moment longer before releasing it with a sigh.

Vaggie put a hand on her shoulder. "Charlie, if Lucifer could have just fixed the population problem with a wave of his hand, he would have." She wasn't as sure of it as she made herself sound. The man had been defeated and struggling with depression. But she heavily suspected he did what he could.

She saw Emily nod fervently, backing her up. Vaggie's gaze shifted as she caught a familiar figure waving from across the golden street.

Charlie shook her head. "Okay. I mean, at least that answers one question that was nagging me: how does anyone get into a sequestered part of Heaven in the first place if you have to have been there to get there? You're the one who makes it."

Week One, Day One - Hazbin Hotel bar, evening:

Husk watched Angel Dust walk into the parlor with a stretch and a yawn. He was still wearing his pink pig nightshirt. And whatever he wore to bed beneath it. Husk did not look lower.

Angel Dust crossed the parlor, heading to the bar.

"Sleep well?" the winged feline asked as he turned to the espresso machine. He had enough of an idea of when his spider friend would wake up that Husk would have coffee ready when he did.

"Yeah," Angel Dust said as he dropped onto a stool at the bar. Then looked around. "Where is everybody?"

"The trio are on a Heaven Date," Husk enumerated. "Lute's in her room with Niffty..."

Angel Dust raised an eyebrow and shook his head.

"...Cherri Bomb and Crymini are out doing that thing they do. And I have no idea where Alastor is."

"Heh. I remember when everyone practically lived in the parlor."

Husk looked over his selection of mugs and picked out the #Charlie'sAngels one with the picture of The Kiss. He smirked. Charlie's expression when it made its first appearance at the breakfast table had been priceless. "How do you want it?" he asked.

"Undressed," Angel Dust smirked.

Husk passed him the mug of espresso, adding nothing to the dark liquid.

The two were illuminated by a soft, holy light from above. The angelic orb sank until it hovered above the bar between them.

I really should learn to do that, Husk thought in passing as the center of the orb shimmered. He expected Emily's face to appear. She was the only angel they knew who (still) had the power to do this and used it frequently.

"Surprise!" Molly's cheerful face filled the orb.

"Molly?" Angel Dust's whole countenance brightened. "Hey sis. What's up?"

Husk chorused with Molly, "Heaven!"

"Everyone's a comedian," Angel Dust quipped back. "You're smilin', so I'm guessing this ain't bad news."

"Soooo, I've decided I'm long overdue for a vacation," Molly started

"You've worked at the Embassy for seven weeks," her brother retorted, interrupting.

Molly stuck out her tongue at him. "And I've finally worked up the courage to visit Hell."

Angel Dust's smile faded. He quickly masked that, saying "You've already been here, remember. Several times."

Molly was neither deceived nor deterred. "As Pentious once pointed out to me, I've been to the Embassy, which is technically still Heaven, and the Hazbin Hotel. They don't really count. So I'm going to spend at least a week visiting my twin brother and seeing for myself how the other side lives."

Angel Dust's expression crumbled. "That is a really bad idea."

"So I've heard," Molly giggled. "Zero stars."

Angel Dust shot Husk a worried look. "Eeeh, I can't anyway. Husk and I have this thing this weekend, so..."

"Oh." There was a disappointed tone in Molly's words. "You already have plans?"

"Yeah, and it just wouldn't be fair to break them on such short notice, y'know," Angel Dust tried.

Molly's face fell for less than a second before she put on the biggest smile. "Wonderful! You're keeping them. And you're taking me with you!" the spider angel announced, inviting herself along.

The orb winked out of existence as Molly ended the call before her brother could protest.

Angel Dust and Husk stared at each other through the space the orb had been. Then the spider demon dropped his head onto the table.

Week One, Day One - Doomsday District, evening:

"How the fuck is there still this much silver in the Doomsday District?" Crymini barked as she picked through the body parts.

The first rocket had taken out six of the eight. Instead of the survivors rushing inside for cover, the people inside rushed out to join the fray. Their aim was for shit.

Cherri Bomb shifted her weight onto one hip, popping her bubblegum as she fished out her phone. "Texting Odette that we've got another pickup for 'em."

Part of the new relationship with Carmine Industries. Helping get rid of some of the silver on the streets. They'd been doing this for a month.

Crymini frowned. Eleven angelic steel weapons, half of which were firearms. The Embassy riot had been over six weeks ago. If all the stray silver came from that, there couldn't possibly still be this much out here, right?

"Checking the house," Cherri Bomb announced, disappearing inside.

Crymini scampered after her. If there was anyone else inside, they were hiding. But that probably made them more dangerous. She tried sniffing and immediately regretted it. The place smelled of blood, cheap drugs, bad sex and rot.

The living room was filled with strewn garbage and trashed furniture. The yellow wallpaper was faded and spotted with black mold. A crude symbol of bent lines was spray painted in black over one of the walls. Crymini snarled a little, recognizing it. As gramps called it, Roo shit.

She glanced in the kitchen. Broken dishes in the sink. A few corners dedicated to piling even more garbage. Blackened drug paraphernalia scattered on a table that had wood wedged under two of its legs to keep it stable.

She turned to look ahead, following Cherri Bomb. Dead body in the hallway. Imp. Been dead a while. Not from this fight. The dried foam around his throat told her he'd seized himself to death on angel dust.

"Been there," she whispered in a moment of solidarity with the corpse as she stepped over it. But he had been a hellborn. Unlike her, he wouldn't be back.

Crymini's ears perked at a familiar rattle. Ahead, Cherri Bomb was jiggling the knob of a narrow door that was locked.

"Got something for ya, li'l sis." Cherri Bomb stepped aside with a slight grin.

Crymini was already pulling out her lockpicks.

The lock, like the gang, was too easy. "Fuuuuck, at least give me something tough enough to get my clit hard."

Crymini swung the door open.

"They have a basement."

And it reeked. Crymini gagged on the smell.

Cherri Bomb started forward, but Crymini waved at her to stop. Basements were a bad place for explosives. "I got this one, big sis."

Gramps had made it real clear the Hazbin Hotel was a found family deal. So Husk got to be gramps. It took zero time for her and Cherri to adopt big sis / little sis. Charlie and her angels had colloquially all become "mom". The rest was a work in progress.

Crymini stepped cautiously onto the wooden stairs as she drew out her napalm thrower. She would have run out of fuel weeks ago, but Crymini had a big sis who knew chemistry. The thrower felt good fully loaded. She lit the nozzle

Flaunt that chemistry, sister!

Down she went. Each step creaked loudly. One felt loose. Two were cracked. Crymini's mind conjured a small nightmare about getting trapped down here.

Keep my nozzle pointed away from the wooden steps of doom.

The bed slowly came into view. And with it the woman chained to it. Unconscious or dead.

"FUCK!"

Crymini extinguished the muzzle and jumped down the rest of the way. Her feet squelched into the basement's carpet. She heard Cherri Bomb call out from above. Crymini tossed her napalm thrower aside and went to the body, checking for signs of life.

She was a succubus. And she was naked and chained to the bed, covered in burns and bruises. It didn't take a fuckin' genius to figure out what the fuckers upstairs had her down here for. Crymini felt for a pulse and the body spasmed, coughing up bloody foam.

Crymini knew that shit. She jerked about. It took her eyes less than two seconds to find the hose and needle. One of those sick ratfuckers just did this to her. Probably in response to the first explosions.

They didn't want to share.

Fuck! Every time she started to get a little bit comfortable, there was always something to remind her that this is fucking Hell and the vast majority of sinners absolutely deserve to be here.

These fuckers don't even deserve that much.

Crymini felt rage trying to push through her panic. But she focused. She needed to get this girl on her side or she would drown in her own foam and vomit. The chains were preventing that. They had to go. Her lockpicks were working the first one when she heard Cherri Bomb cursing behind her.

"I know her," Cherri Bomb managed between strings of vulgarity. "It's Ruth."

The first manacle snapped open. It was barely enough. Crymini pushed the succubus' upper torso as much as her bindings would allow. Cherri Bomb moved onto the bed to hold her like that as Crymini jumped to the chain on the succubus' corresponding leg. Already, her mind was screaming that it didn't matter. The shit they pumped into her was going to end her even if she didn't drown in her own sick. And she was a succubus. Hellborn. This was the absolute shitty end to what was probably a shitty life.

Still, Crymini didn't stop until all the manacles were opened.

"Ruth?" Crymini asked as she worked the last one. "Is she... na na na?"

How do you get a song from the mortal world anyway?

Ya have to know the right succubus.

Cherri Bomb nodded, crying and whispering curses as she checked the woman's pulse. Another convulsion forced both Cherri Bomb's hands back to holding her.

FUCK!

The last manacle clicked open.

"We need to get her help. Fast!" Cherri Bomb insisted. "Crymini, check upstairs!"

Crymini jumped to rush upstairs, not even thinking about it. She checked the hall and started making a run through the rooms. Moving on panic, rage and instinct.

Thought started to seep back as she circled back to the kitchen. There was no fast help to be had. No help at all. Pentagram City didn't have a hospital. The closest thing it ever saw to medical care was little pop-up clinics. And those were never for helping people. She could have told everyone that before Victor.

Crymini ran back to the stairs and started down into the basement. She jumped the lower half of the steps and turned to the bed.

And stopped, reeling at what she saw, her mind trying to disassociate.

"WHAT THE FUCK, SIS!?" Crymini barked even as she was backlit by rippling lights of purple and pink.

Cherri Bomb glared back. "No more comfortable with that than you are! There was a reason I sent you up there!" Her hands moved to lift the succubus.

Crymini glanced behind her and saw the hospital lobby with windows looking out at a pink sky. St. Ann's. Sloth. The sight was ringed by diamond facets of shimmering light.

Succubus. Asmodeon crystal. Set into one of her genital piercings because fucking where else?

Crymini jumped to help Cherri Bomb. "Well thanks, because that's seared in my fucking memory forever now."

She turned back towards the portal and stopped, a jolt of fear tearing through everything else at the sight of the portal.

That's Sloth. That's another Ring. We can't go there.

Thoughts flashed through the puppy demon's head in seconds. She played fast and loose with her own existence for a long time. But crossing into another Ring? Sinners couldn't exist in the other Rings. And that wasn't a death Crymini was sure you got to bounce back from.

She could almost hear gramps yelling at her. And she was listening. She had people now that gave a shit about her. That she cared about. Most of all being the "sister" behind her. In a moment, she knew: this was not something she was willing to risk. Not now. Definitely not for a woman she didn't even know.

"HEY!" Crymini shouted through the portal. "Can we get some help here!?"

The legs of the succubus struck her, knocking her down as Cherri Bomb ran past her and jumped through the portal. Her appearance on the other side got immediate reactions. By the time Crymini had pushed herself upright from the unspeakably gross basement carpet, nurses had Ruth on a gurney and were rushing her somewhere out of sight.

Bits of Cherri Bomb's clothing were dissolving. And her hair. And her skin. Burning off and flicking away like tiny pieces of burning paper carried on the wind.

Cherri Bomb turned back and stumbled. "Oh fuck!"

She lifted her hands, looking down at them as she began to lose fingers. She stumbled towards the portal until she lost enough of her feet that she collapsed. Then her legs started to go. And bits of her face.

Cherri Bomb looked up, her eye locking on Crymini's as the puppy demon watched in horror. "This... doesn't feel like... something I get... to come... back..."

The last word had no sound. Crymini saw it manifest from what was left of Cherri Bomb's mouth like a spray of ash. Only to be scattered by a non-existent wind.

A moment later, the rest of Cherri Bomb was scattered as well.

Week One, Day One - Charlie's, Vaggie's and Emily's bedroom, late evening:

Vaggie finished brushing her teeth, spitting into the sink and rinsing her mouth. Emily darted in, fluttering over her to check herself in the mirror.

"Oh, I had a thought!" Emily boasted. "Rain in Heaven! I bet I could use the Celestial Environmental System to give Heaven some nice, light showers."

"Not for the wedding, right?" Charlie asked, just checking.

"Noooo," Emily stuck out her tongue. "The wedding already feels way too complicated without adding more to it. No, I'm thinking maybe once every few weeks, as a special treat."

"Okay, next time we go on a Heaven Date, I'm calling a moratorium on doing anything emotionally heavy," Vaggie announced. "We're supposed to leave Heaven less stressed, not more."

"Hey, it wasn't that bad," Charlie insisted. "I'm sorry I got..." She fumbled for the right words.

"Wasn't just you," Emily told her, giving Charlie a brief kiss before flopping face-first onto the bed. She flapped her wings as she breathed in the bedspread. "Aaah. I'm not going to be less stressed until the wedding is over!"

Vaggie knew how she felt. She knew in her head that the wedding was just a formality. They were already life partners, wives, in every way that actually meant anything. So why did thinking about it make her all fluttery and anxious?

Charlie let out a breath. "Well, that's one thing I'm not anxious about!"

She gave them both a big Charlie grin. "It's going to be wonderful! A big party to show everyone in Heaven and Hell the truth in our hearts. Hell especially could use a reminder of love."

"Well, there will definitely be a party," Vaggie agreed. "Dad is claiming the entire city center plaza for the reception. He says Beelzebub will need the space. I'll be doing a sweep of the place the day before to help get it prepped." She looks to Charlie. "I've never met her. What's she like?"

"A lot!" Charlie smiled. "In the best way."

"That..." told her absolutely nothing. Other than that she had Charlie's approval. Which was enough. "...makes sense for Gluttony."

How much of that space would just be for her? Vaggie was picturing the woman as roughly the size of a barge and largely spherical. And for there to be flies. That was a Beelzebub thing right? Lord... or apparently Lady of the Flies? This was going to be a very Hell-themed reception.

Fitting, given the more Heaven-themed ceremony, which would take place in the Embassy. Charlie was, at least technically, getting married in Heaven. That was not a thing she ever imagined, much less imagined finding agreeable.

Then again, she didn't imagine being in a polycule either.

"Oooh, the exception!" Emily said, lifting her face up from the bedspread.

"The what now?" Charlie asked.

Emily smiled, rolling and setting up to face them. "Long ago, Sera taught me that the deadly sins were only sins in excess. Self-worth is extremely important to be healthy, and that's just pride at its most humble. There's nothing wrong with lust, especially if you have two super hot wives. And wrath can be righteous. They're all okay in modest amounts... except gluttony. Because gluttony in moderation isn't gluttony." Emily giggled. "Lack of moderation is kinda gluttony's whole thing."

Vaggie snickered. She'd never thought of that. Charlie gave a little laugh too.

"Well, I'm sure The Exception is looking forward to meeting you too," Charlie promised.

"Oh, and speaking of deadly sins," Vaggie slipped in, giving Emily a wink. "Husk recommended we spend our honeymoon in the Wrath Ring. What do you think?"

Emily tried to hide a rather naughty smile. With her wings. She could not have been more obvious if she was wearing an I'm Doing Fine tee-shirt.

Charlie blinked. "Why Wrath? It's mostly farms and desert. Did you want to honeymoon on a farm? The animals in Wrath aren't very huggable."

"I was thinking more about the wide open spaces," Vaggie said. "Wrath's the only Ring where you can be miles and miles from anyone."

"Where an earthquake strong enough to shatter the bedrock a hundred feet deep wouldn't put anyone in danger," Emily added playfully.

Charlie's face flushed as she realized what her wives were threatening. "NO!" She growled, growing horns and a tail as she advanced on Emily with playful, lusty menace. "Mercy and restraint!"

Emily squealed. "Vaggie, save me!"

The look she got from Charlie had her rushing to the bed to 'protect' Emily. But Vaggie knew better. Neither of them were getting saved tonight.

Week One, Day One - The Bondage Club, night:

"Okay, now I want you all to bring out your checklists," Angel Dust instructed the small group. He looked at the two new faces, an incubus and a wombat. "You got phones? I'll send you the link." Both nodded. In a moment, they were looking at the same checklist everyone else was.

"Who here can tell me when it's safe to stop referring to your checklist?" Angel Dust asked.

One of the regulars, a stout imp woman, raised her hand. "Patricia," he signaled.

"Never," the imp replied, getting a smile.

"And why is that?" Angel Dust asked.

"Because everyone makes mistakes," Patricia replied. Good girl. She was one of the ones he would trust with this stuff. Once she had a little more practice.

"Exactly!" Angel Dust turned to everyone but was primarily focused on the new faces. "Sooner or later, you're gonna fuck up. And that means you need to have checks and redundancies, both physically and in your head, so you're always more than one fuckup away from a disaster. That's true in everything we do, but it is especially true for suspension bondage."

Angel Dust spent the next half hour going through every step with them. He decided to call on Patricia for assistance in trussing himself up in the new BD-TripleX-12 suspension harness he was demonstrating tonight. By the end, he was looking down at them from seven feet above the safety mat, his four arms bound behind him. His two legs curled back, knees spread in a deliciously accessible way.

Angel Dust put on a display of struggling. "Fuckin' nice, Patricia!" he praised as he found himself unable to move in any way that he shouldn't. "Nice and helpless." He flexed his hands at the wrists and spread his fingers. He wiggled his toes. "And, as you can see, without cutting off circulation or risking nerve damage. The new harness does a lot to prevent that for you. But it ain't on the harness to make sure. It's on you."

"Now, what's the other rule?" He smirked.

Several of the regulars called out in chorus, "The bottom will do everything in their power to faceplant!"

Angel Dust laughed. "Exactly! Always assume that. Especially while they are new to this. Tops, take it from a bottom. We will be stupid."

The incubus stepped forward for a closer look. "You can't move at all, but you're still comfortable, right?"

"Oh yeah," Angel Dust smiled. "You'll be surprised how freeing it feels to be bound like this. And my favorite part of this new BD-TripleX-12 harness is the forehead strap. Good head support is extremely important. You don't want your sub's head whipping up and down while you're whipping them. And if you're doing it right, they ain't gonna be in a state where they can focus on keeping themselves steady."

That got some laughs and lusty rawrs.

The incubus nodded. "Good." His expression did not match. The look on his face said Not Good. His demeanor was falling apart before Angel Dust's eyes.

"I'm sorry. Valentino has a Contract on my sister," the incubus said as he produced the blessing-tipped revolver. "You don't know what he'll do to her if I don't."

Angel Dust's pupils dilated as the incubus pointed the barrel between them.

Week One, Day One - Alley behind Consent , twenty minutes to midnight:

Acid rain had begun to fall. The acidic water pooled in the cracks between the cobblestones under the light of the nightclub's back entrance lamp.

"Well then..." Valentino hissed seductively. "I think our business is concluded for tonight." He didn't even look at the plate of angelic steel in his hand. Instead, he casually tossed it into the crate on top of the others like someone tossing a single nude on a teenager's collection of porn.

It was one of three crates in the limo's trunk. He hadn't even needed the contents of the other two. It was enough that they knew he had them.

The mothman took a drag on his long cigarette holder and blew a stream of magenta smoke. His eyes glowed. "Unless," he offered suggestively, "I can interest any of you in something for your private collection." He leaned down so his smile was closer to the imps' eye level. And his pheromones were easier to breathe in.

There was something precious about imps to Valentino. Most of them stood at his groin level. It made negotiating with them about sex very easy. But it did make negotiating with them a little more difficult when it wasn't about that.

"Sorry," one of the imps crooned. "No personal side business during negotiations. Union rules."

Union rules. What a joke.

The rain hissed as it hit the asphalt. It burned where it touched his new hat. But it left him alone. Like it knew better.

Valentino's eyes narrowed. He had an idea. The night had been a good night for those. He had already gotten rid of one thorn in his side tonight. Why not go for two?

"In that case, let me give you a little tip. Free." That got some raised eyebrows. The imps were curious. Distrusting, but he could work with that.

He locked the crate and closed the trunk of his limo. "Somebody from the Lust Ring is trying to skirt your little monopoly. Bringing in shit covertly to set up business."

Ooh, narrowed eyes. They didn't like that. Good. "But don't take my word for it. I'll give you some addresses. See for yourselves."

A few minutes later, Valentino was smiling his best smile as he opened the door of his limo and crouched down.

"Scoot over, Kitty," he ordered as he got out of the acid rain. His custom-modified robotic slave shifted to sit against the opposite door. What started as a sprinkle was quickly working towards a deluge. Not that a little weather was going to dampen his mood tonight.

His glowing smile didn't falter as he looked over the empty seats in the limo. But his glowing eyes narrowed just a little. This was a night for celebration and, Kitty aside, he didn't have any company. He usually had at least a couple girls in here with him, going at it for his entertainment. But no. This wasn't the sort of business where you drag your toys along with you.

Valentino leaned forward. "Driver, back to the tower before the fucking road floods. I've got a party to throw myself."

The engine started up, and Valentino sat back.

Outside, the imps were already gone. The storm's fury had started in earnest. Sheets of acid rain washed the limo as it began to move, rolling out of the back alley. Revealing the open sewer manhole.

The limo reached the mouth of the alley and stopped, the left blinker flicking on.

The explosion started at the back, ripping its way through to the front. The force was powerful enough to lift the back end of the limo six and a half feet into the air as it was engulfed in a pyrotechnic cataclysm. The burning frame crashed back to the alley stones.

With a melodic whizzing note, the sheet of angelic steel slashed down through the chain-link fence around Consent's dumpster as it fell back to Hell, imbedding itself in one of the cobblestones.