"Okay everyone! Stand in a circle!" Charlie announced to the room. A shuffling occurred, everyone making room for the other in the limited lobby space.
"Today we will be doing an activity known as the 'Virtuous Knot'!" Charlie briefly explained the rules, going over it several times until Shawshank the pachyderm and Pete the Poisoner stopped asking questions.
While she was busy going over it for the fifth time, Alastor had reentered the room and slyly maneuvered his way into a desired position within the circle. Tai and Ama gulped from either side of him, but tried not to show it.
"It's a great team-bonding exercise!" the blonde reiterated, her voice slightly wild. "Now everyone gather in close and grab two different hands."
Another shuffling of bumping elbows, arms, and shoulders. Pete reached forward to grab Charlie's outstretched hand but Alastor deftly slapped it away, cheerily claiming her slender palm as his own. Her other hand was taken by Vaggie, a few down the circle from himself, as expected.
"Quit poking me, pointy!" said Angel, elbowing his neighbor Sylvie and her long feathered hair.
"Quit tryna swap hands with me!" Sylvie replied, her hands encasing Husk's and Tai's.
"You're stepping on my tail!"
"Your hand is so sweaty!"
"Give me some space, wouldja?"
"Now what?"
"Team-bonding!" shouted Charlie above the din of complaints. She exhaled and resumed her smile. "Now we untangle! Do not let go!"
As the group attempted to untangle themselves, chaos ensued. Arms twisted, bodies contorted, and laughter filled the room as they struggled to unravel the intricate knot they had formed.
Charlie tried to lead the group but her instructions fell on deaf ears. Though thankfully, it wasn't needed as the complaints amongst the hotel residents slowly grew into prodding in the right direction. She huffed into a satisfied grin.
"Duck under here, you oaf!"
"You're going the wrong way!"
"Dammit Angel, put your other arms away!"
Even moreso, Alastor's subtle manipulations were guiding the movements of the crew, his light influence and slender figure easily molding around the tangled mass of limbs. He was enjoying this little game after all, seeing the demons tug and stomp their way around each other like a wriggling mass of children.
"Watch where you put that foot of yours, dearie," chided the deer demon to his neighbor, his voice only somewhat threatening.
At one point Charlie and the Radio Demon were side by side, their hands still clasped and their forms locked together.
Charlie spoke, confidential to her business partner, "You're being surprisingly helpful," she whispered over the cacophony of noise.
"If I didn't help, we'd be here until next century," he replied.
"We all know you're smart, Al," she said with a roll of her eyes. "The next round is without talking."
"You say that like it'll be a challenge. Body language is the universal language, my darling," he murmured back to her. He ran his clawed thumb over her knuckles to emphasize his point.
Charlie shivered, a tingle traveling up her arm from the motion. But not wanting to be outdone she responded with a heated glare. "So what did that mean?" she asked, referring to his touch.
Caught off guard, Alastor let out an unexpected laugh. He was about to reply when the figure on Charlie's other hand made her presence known.
"Uh, focus hon!" Vaggie tugged on the blonde's hand, trying to get her attention back to the task at hand. Charlie had become so distracted by the deer demon, and so easily, that even she was surprised. She shook her head and turned away from Alastor, helping out in the final maneuvers.
Finally, after a deft twist and twirl of Niffty, who wasn't even touching the ground, the group finally untangled themselves. With a collective laugh and sigh of relief, a cheer went up from the crowd.
"Amazing job, everyone!" Charlie clapped, overjoyed at the display of teamwork and involvement such an activity provoked. She stopped them before they wandered off and announced they'd be doing it "one more time!"
…
Positioning themselves in a new and reluctant circle again, the group squared off silently. Grabbing hands of the people across from them, they began again.
Alastor, of course, fought whatever guest was trying to claim Charlie's hand and took their place instead, an innocent smile on his face.
With the silence of the second round, a new charged energy entered the room, a competitive atmosphere settling over them.
Eyes met eyes, nods and tugs, pointed chins in different directions. Charlie watched it all with awed anticipation.
The deer demon continued his subtle manipulations, guiding those closest to him with the language he knew best. His eyes glowed whenever someone was wrong, practically frightening them into correcting themselves. But his follow-up smile was genuine enough to put them at ease.
Instinctively, their movements flowed together and Charlie and Alastor found themselves side by side again, their hands still entwined in the tangle of limbs.
He needn't even look at her, the tender caress and squeeze of her hand enough to tell her exactly what he was thinking, a reassurance of the gentlest kind.
She smiled at him, even though his gaze was elsewhere.
But that soft-hearted expression at the Radio Demon did not go without an audience.
After a few quiet minutes of their funky silent dance, Angel made the final move, gracefully stepping up and over the final obstacle to their goal.
This time, the cheers were immediate, a bit with disbelief that they accomplished such a random feat in what felt like record time.
"That was sooooo much fun!" cheered Charlie. "You guys finished so quick!"
Angel snorted.
The line of demons finally dropped each others' hands, fully ready to disperse. All except a certain red demon and half-angel.
Alastor remained clutching at the hotelier's hand, his clawed grip ensconcing her palm entirely within his own. She didn't seem to mind or even notice.
A few people eyed this with raised brows, Angel and Husk especially, who exchanged glances.
Vaggie on the other hand, did not react kindly, her hackles immediately rose, before she stomped over and grabbed the deer demon by the wrist. "The game's over–!"
But the rest of her sentence died on her tongue, her one eye flying open. Unbeknownst to them all, Vaggie's fingers had dipped into the blackened muck that had traveled down Alastor's arms. In an instance she froze, all semblance of sense punched out of her at the sensations that now coursed through her veins.
Fear, rage, uncertainty. A dozen emotions flowed across her body. Love, hatred, sorrow. Vaggie flung her arm away as if scalded by a hundred different burning feelings. Confused most of all, she looked back at Alastor and there she saw it. That hulking black mass that reeked of horror. It folded over Alastor like a transparent veil, its darkness bubbling and rippling, trapping the deer demon within.
Vaggie reared back, her own terror doubling the one she felt from within the touch of the Mark. That snaking fear warped into anger as she fought for control of her body. She trembled, grabbing a shaking arm with one hand and pointing an accusatory finger at the demon.
This is what has been skulking around Charlie all this time? Right under their noses?
"What are you!?" she yelled, voice wavering. The former angel fumbled for Charlie and dragged her, pressing the blonde behind herself, far from the now very confused Radio Demon.
"Vaggie, what–" began Charlie, bewildered.
But the former angel refused to listen, pulling Charlie further and further away, her single eye never leaving the deer demon's grinning face. He tilted his head, puzzled but curious.
"Stay away from him! He's fucking evil!"
The rest of the hotel watched with equal bafflement, not sure how to react. Vaggie called out the deer demon on a daily basis, but not with quite this much vitriol. She continued to drag Charlie away, corralling her up the stairs.
Alastor didn't dare move a muscle, correctly assuming that now would not be the time to rile up the former exorcist. The panic in her single eye was more than enough to stay his hand. His eyes narrowed in thought. Her words reminded him of another past incident, an incident from his past life, a shadow in the cloud of his memory. He tried to banish the thought before it could further take root in his mind.
It also reminded him of when Charlie first had her dream. A frightful reaction that had her crawling on the ground away from him. The idea of a similar occurrence did not sit comfortably with the Radio Demon.
"Vaggie stop– what's wrong?" Charlie continued, fighting against the current of Vaggie's forceful shoving without success.
The pair disappeared over the threshold to another section of the hotel, their yells echoing into the lobby.
Eventually, silence descended on the remainder of the hotel. The guests and staff alike at a loss for words. They parted, not wanting to even acknowledge what happened and still feeling satisfied from the conclusion of their successful detangling. This wasn't their business.
Husk and Angel bee-lined for the bar, a much-needed drink calling their names.
Alastor remained standing in the center of the lobby, a mixture of dread and distaste swirling in his gut.
…
Nighttime arrived with an eerie quiet.
Alastor had immediately retreated to his bedroom, the good feeling of morning so swifty cut-off. He dived into his remaining stack of books and even revisited the book of poetry. There were many more poems to analyze, but the words kept blurring together as his mind replayed the scene with Vaggie over and over in his head. What had she seen? He couldn't very well go and ask now, could he? As much as he wanted to and as much as he might've before, Charlie and her girlfriend had disappeared into their private quarters and hadn't emerged. Though he also couldn't have known this since he had barricaded himself inside his room with an angry snap.
Would Charlie still make a nightly visit? Would she be banned altogether? Did the Mark seek to interfere in all facets of his being? He couldn't even pester anyone properly anymore, lest they have a heart attack and die from the mere sight of him. Where was the fun in that?
The deer demon made his equivalent of a pout and continued to flick page after page of poetry. The words and poetic meter greeting him with every turn.
At the end of the book, his sharpened finger paused on a single leaflet of parchment. He fingered the page, sensing its thickness was unusual compared to the rest. Alastor took a closer look. Removing his gloves, he took two thin claws to the edge of the paper and lightly picked at it until there was some give, a corner folding down on itself. There behind the last poem, was an extra hidden page.
The Radio Demon sat back for a moment, feeling somewhat momentous in his discovery. It was a small fortune in all this black uncertainty and he had yet to even see what it contained.
He realigned himself for a better angle and went to work at the bristling parchment, being careful not to rip the browned sheet. For a second, the deer demon wished he had any sliver of a background in book preservation, his set of skills mostly focused in entertainment and killing. Every tug was met with a miniature tear and Alastor cursed his clumsy claws. They were much better suited for tearing than they were for fine precision.
Eventually the page was peeled enough that the corner of a poem appeared in what looked like brilliant blue ink. Unlike the rest of the faded text, this page was teaming with a fresh life.
He counted his blessing and finished pulling the stuck pages apart and examined the hidden verse.
He blinked once, twice, while the meaning of the poem settled into his mind. He read it again, narrowed his eyes, and then twisted the book as if it would garner a fresh perspective.
"What is this…" he hissed, his staticky voice weak with perplexity.
Painted vision, come to pass
The future's spun with threaded glass.
An angel weeps upon your bed
And reads aloud the book of dead:
"Bring back my fellow, foe, and friend
Bring back my lover tho he's bled
On saintless sheets of the condemned,
On tapestry of woe.
A life of searching I shall spend
Reaping truth I'd never sow
When all was lost, the Dark did take
His heart of love, his heart to break?
My dear hath fought, my dear did bend
But all was naught to comprehend.
I beg of thee, my dream's at end
Pray grant me this, my final ask:
Remove my soul, remove my mask."
Alastor tried to analyze this one, its form and tone completely different from the rest. He found it a tad depressing actually, though he hadn't a clue to its significance at first glance.
The short poem conjured images of profound sorrow and lamentation for missed opportunities. Its pleading narrator harkening to some unseen executioner, before ultimately succumbing to their own grief.
Alastor couldn't help but picture himself, as addressed in the line of "upon your bed." He was the one to eventually perish, taken by the darkness. The weeping angel on the other hand… Well, though it pained him to admit, even to himself, he pictured his dear tearful Charlie and her oft leaking eyes. If there was to be anyone left in Hell to weep at his deathbed, it might be her.
A deep unease settled over him the more he looked upon it. He especially disliked its prophetic tone and mention of the future. Although much of it felt impossibly unrelated to him and was vague enough to apply to anyone's past, present, and future. He ought to eventually analyze the other poems in this mindset. Maybe the Mark influenced this as well?
And on top of that, what was with this poetry book in the first place? Where did it come from? Why did the King of Hell have it in his possession? How does anyone know about the Mark of Judgment at all despite lack of record? Alastor turned a scrutinizing mind's eye towards Lucifer. What else could he know? He would have to have Charlie set up another meeting with his Highness as soon as possible.
He shut the book and banned it to the furthest corner of his room. The chill it sparked within him did not seem to be abating and the Radio Demon contemplated an escape. Perhaps cool air to clear his head.
He went to his door with purposeful strides and swung it open. Unexpectedly however, he had a guest. On the other side, there stood, waiting and angry and anxious, a yellow-eyed former exorcist of Heaven.
Her expression hardened at his sudden entrance and she turned to fully face him.
"We need to talk," Vaggie began.
…
Charlie paced around her office, arms crossed. She huffed a sigh, her mind going over the heated discussion she had with Vaggie for far too long. Eventually, She was able to return to her duties, her partner mollified for the time being, but the argument still left a sour taste of worry.
Vaggie had seen something, that much was true. Something akin in aura to the dark spectre of her nightmare. Back then, Charlie didn't have a clue of what she was seeing but after many nights examining the Mark of Judgment and its ways, she now was sure that what her girlfriend had seen was just another symptom of it.
Now that she thought about it, Charlie wasn't sure what the shadowy figure meant, what the feelings it emitted were even meant to represent. All she knew was that it was frightening and instilled horror in its witness so she wasn't surprised at Vaggie's reaction. But what bothered her now was just how adamant the former angel was now about Alastor's association with all things unholy and evil. And how if he wasn't kicked from this hotel, he would bring upon them a great misfortune.
Charlie couldn't tell her about the Mark, it wasn't something she could allow herself to explain. It wasn't her business to share, especially after the promise to secrecy she had made with the deer demon.
But it was the reason for all this terror and confusion. Not to mention the fact that Vaggie saw it at all must mean its influence has grown or that it may spread. Soon enough, the Mark would be unable to hide.
The blonde shook her head of the treacherous thoughts. All she wanted to do was help. She wanted to make things right and save peoples' souls. But balancing this complicated dance with Vaggie and Alastor was becoming too much to handle on top of it all!
Why couldn't they get along? She mused. Charlie plopped into her squeaking chair and leaned back, admiring the ceiling. 'I know why,' she thought mournfully.
…
"You need to leave Charlie alone," Vaggie warned, her voice laden with untold malice.
"And why must I do that, my dear?" The static in the Radio Demon's voice was gravelly. His posture was rigid but his expression remained composed..
"You aren't welcome here anymore. I can't wait around for whatever's coming." She opened her stance, as if preparing herself for an attack. "Charlie doesn't need your influence or your schemes or your fucked up magic! You tricked her once and I'll be damned if I have to witness it all again, or worse. I won't let you."
Alastor leaned to the side and tapped his chin. "Charlie and I's partnership is mutually beneficial! I am merely assisting her in her endeavors."
"Cut the crap! I don't buy it and I've never believed a single word that comes from your forked tongue."
The deer demon's red eyes glowed, a sinister tint taking form. "Well, well…Then what do you propose we do?" he asked. "Because I certainly don't plan on leaving this establishment anytime soon…" He began to pace, circling around the former angel as she tensed. "And seeing as you have consulted Vox, I am not sure I feel comfortable continuing on in this manner either."
Vaggie jumped at the mention of the TV demon. She knew it would come up, but for what that meant to the demon across from her, she did not know and did not want to find out. Vaggie schooled her features and put on a brave face, her anger masking her fear.
"I made no actual deal with Vox. But I did what I had to do to protect Charlie."
Unexpectedly, he moved on easily from the topic, tilting his face in mild incredulity. "Have you ever considered that she doesn't need your protection? That she is actually just fine the way she is?"
She shook away her confusion at his pivoting. "No one can be fine with you around! I saw that evil that lurks around you."
"Trust me, darling, I'm the last person who wants that cloud around me either. Whatever you saw, it isn't what you think."
"What am I supposed to think?" Vaggie said in exasperation. She threw her arms in front of her, a begging gesture.
"Don't think of me as your enemy," the deer demon opened his stance to emphasize his point. "I mean no harm."
Vaggie wanted to scoff, knowing his history. What she has witnessed. What she's been told. Not to mention…
"Even if you don't harm the others or the hotel… I've seen the way you look at Charlie."
"Oh, and how's that, Vagatha?" the Radio Demon warbled, his curiosity piqued.
"Like you want her. Want her soul. Want to ruin whatever pure and good thing she has left inside of her!"
He absorbed her accusation and mulled over it with a thoughtful hum. "Well, ten percent accurate as always, dear. I do want Charlie to thrive in Hell…" His smile sharpened, as if picturing the bloody carnage that someone like the Princess of Hell could conceivably create. "And that might require her to get her hands a little… messy."
"I can't let you do that," threatened Vaggie. "I won't let you get blood on her hands."
"But she already has blood on them, dear! I am just positively confused," he bent his cheek into his palm. "Did she not fight against angels? Is she not still fighting for her dream?" Alastor had the gall to scoff. "I thought you wanted to protect that goal, not hinder it."
Vaggie seethed, disliking the angle of his retort. "I am protecting it! You're the one who tricked her into a deal!"
"That led Charlie to discovering her strength as a leader! I can't just give everything away willy-nilly," he threw up his arms. "War requires… sacrifice. And you must realize by now that the war with Heaven is far from over."
"War, sacrifice, blood! Listen to yourself!" The gray angel shook her head at his flimsy excuse. "What favor will you ask of her?" she asked, expression darkening.
"That remains to be seen. And were I to have one in mind, I daren't share it with you, knowing the company you keep." He crossed his arms.
Her fists clenched and she steeled herself for what she felt she had to do. This dialogue with the Radio Demon was clearly going nowhere. She would have to speak the only language he understood and offer him the only thing he possibly sought.
"Alastor… let's make a deal."
...
AN: Trouble has arrived... Everything with Vaggie has been boiling up to this moment!
Thanks for reading!