To those who have followed me through all the stories I've created thus far in the Angel's Demon universe – Thank you. It means a lot. Due to a recent 'incident', Pretty Little Scavenger is the last work I'll be posting until I can address the issues and clear my head. Knowing me; this could be just a few weeks, or it could be much longer. I have pieces of the next major novel written, as well as WIPs of the two stories I wanted to drop before diving into book 2 – so there are renmants that will help guide me when I do take up writing, again.

Pretty Little Scavenger (A very personal story for me) takes place approximately one month after One on One, and comes before Caught Red Footed. Angel vs The IMP is scheduled to be the direct follow up to CRF, and I still hope to do the story with Angel & Vaggie's date as mentioned in 1on1. Eryn's Story needs a major overhaul, but it is a story I must tell before going into Vengeance (AD book 2) – Which will heavily feature Lute.

I know from experience that commenting on fics is not everyone's comfort zone – people can read a story and love it – but have no idea how to express it. So, thank you for at least reading. I see hits/views/kudos and subscriptions increase – and that is as much a motivation to create more stories.

Enjoy.

Finally! Finally, things had calmed down enough over the last month for Kevin Angelus Collins to feel like he did not have to constantly look over his shoulder, wondering what threat might appear next out of the blue. Or red, considering the sky above Pentagram City never seemed to shift its hues further than lighter or darker shades of crimson depending on the time of day.

The fact was that a lot had happened in a quick amount of time, and getting a chance to slow the pace down had not been easily forthcoming, and it took a lot of self-control to not constantly get in Eryn's business with Alastor. Given his plans for today, he needed to maintain his composure and concentrate on the task ahead.

Now, as he stood in the bathroom of the main bedroom suite he shared with Charlie and Vaggie, he finished getting dressed in a brand new uniform that Vaggie had picked out for him. He adjusted the collar, looked at himself in the mirror, and let out a low whistle. Without a doubt, Charlie's girlfriend had great taste.

Vaggie had asked Charlie if she could pick out something for Kevin as a personal gift from her to celebrate his first full month living at the hotel. And it seemed she had been itching to do so, because now Kevin stood attired in a blend of colors that complimented both Charlie's standard red business attire for the hotel and Vaggie's usual red and dark grey motif. Designs that the both of them wore daily during the hotel's business hours.

His new top was very similar to the combat shirt he wore as an Army Ranger—lightweight but durable, yet unlike Earth's uniforms being flame-resistant, Charlie informed him that his would be able to temporarily withstand any element he may have to deal with. The front zipper went from his chest up to a neckline collar, and his long sleeves had Velcro pockets for storage. It was not all that different from his heavenly military outfit other than the old one had been designed with the idea angels couldn't be killed. Something that had to be rectified now that he lived in a very, very dangerous place. Another change was that instead of the red trim lines along the seams and hems, they were now silver.

As for his pants? Gone again were the heavenly, light, airy black pants with red trim. No, now he wore a version of Striker Combat Pants. Also durable, affording him comfort of movement but also extra protection from the elements and battle-ready. They also had multiple pockets for storage. Unlike his old black style, though, these were dyed in a darker shade of red—sangria in fact—that more or less was a flip of Vaggie's own color style.

Charlie had added to his ensemble a pair of black fingerless gloves, nearly identical to the ones he'd worn on earth, along with new military boots that were amazingly comfortable and light, yet, as Vaggie explained, were lined with an extra layer of protective rubber in the soles to cushion his landings.

All in all, it was close to what he had worn on Earth while also blending in with both his girlfriend and Vaggie's appearances, further making him a part of their unique arrangement. The final aspect of his new appearance were his wings. They were now a dark grey, dyed not traditionally, as Vaggie had teased him, but with magic granted by Lucifer himself. The color change did not add even a half an ounce to his current weight, so he continued to hold the record for fastest flier in the known afterlife.

Lucifer did hint he may have to prove himself at some point. Whether he meant with others in Heaven or Hell, or the King himself, was left unspoken. However, while Kevin was never overly competitive, the child in him itched to discover just how good he really was. Imagine out flying the very king of Hell, who'd been born with wings? Kevin let himself wonder.

But today was a day of duty. Not for the hotel, but for one of the hotel's residents, Cherri Bomb. He had promised to assist her in investigating her old apartment to see if he could track down who had broken in and ransacked her space. Cherri had made it clear this was more about pride than the actual return of her possessions. She wanted those who would violate her space to know that she wasn't going to take it lying on her back.

"I save that for special occasions." Cherri had teased Kevin at breakfast that morning, but after getting a bit of a look from Charlie, she waved it off with just admitting that having a real holier than thou angel helping her solve the mystery made her a little giddy.

Fully dressed and ready for the day, the last thing left to add to his ensemble was another new acquisition. Picking up a holster sitting on the counter, Kevin checked the weight, unclipped the belt, and pulled out a new trank gun that Lucifer had made for him. It was almost identical to the one he had when he was alive; only this one had two distinct differences, both magical.

The first one was that, with Eryn's blessing, Lucifer had taken a bit of energy out of Kevin's halo and added it to the gun. So, just like his halo, no one could touch or use it without Kevin's conscious decision. In that regard, Kevin immediately made sure to ask if he could give that permission in advance, which Lucifer had confirmed. So, Charlie and Vaggie could use it if the need arose.

The second, and perhaps even more intriguing to Kevin, is that the gun never needed to be reloaded. Magic formed a new dart immediately after one was fired, so he'd never be without a means to defend himself.

Despite living a year as an angel in Heaven, most of it had been under Heaven's bespellment, which negated him from being overly curious about anything—his wings, halo, or magic. Now that Kevin had a clear mind, unrestrained, he could question things that didn't make sense to him. When Lucifer had presented it to him, he'd held the gun up to look at it at eye level. "What keeps the magic from depleting? Especially if in the heat of battle I overtax it?"

"Ah!" Lucifer's smile widened in understanding. With a sense of humor, he gave the obvious answer. "That's easy, my boy. Plot armor!"

Stunned into silence, Kevin just stared at him for a moment.

"I'm kidding, son!" Lucifer exclaimed, bursting into laughter.

Taking a deep breath, Kevin let it out slowly and clicked his tongue. "I'm not even going to respond." And Kevin thought he'd watched too many movies in his lifetime.

Smirking, Lucifer accepted that and provided the real answer. "Okay, seriously. It's pretty much just an extension of the halo's magic I infused in your gun. Eryn's one of the oldest of all angels, created directly by God, and by design her life force will never fade. It's why you never have a power drain when you use your halo and won't have to worry about your gun's darts running out."

Nodding, Kevin slipped the gun into the holster and clipped the strap shut. "So it's pretty much limitless. That's good to know."

Holding up his hand, Lucifer warned, "It doesn't mean it can't be drained out if something more powerful gets a hold of it. Siphoning magic is a potent magic that exists, though it's extremely rare and very dangerous to wield."

Kevin went on to ask Lucifer more about what could do such a thing, and they'd had a deep conversation about Hell, its magic versus how Heaven worked, and those who held great power among the realms. It had all been very fascinating and gave Kevin a lot to think about. When he left Lucifer's suite, he was relieved to know that his new weapon would be both safe and ready at a moment's notice. He also left with a lot more questions to ask later on.

Now, with his gun & holster clipped safely on his black belt and satisfied he was ready, Kevin left the bathroom and was greeted by a pair of very appreciative whistles. He smirked at Charlie and Vaggie, who were sitting side by side on the bed, eagerly awaiting his reveal.

"Wow." Charlie's eyes sparkled. "You look so handsome, my knight!"

"I agree." Vaggie hummed appreciatively next to her.

"Thank you, ladies." Kevin gave them a small bow.

"Do you like the outfit?" Vaggie asked.

There was a bit of trepidation in her question and Kevin knew why. He knew that she was nervous about her selection, but she'd gone above and beyond, and he told her so.

"I love it, Vaggie. I really do. It's comparable to what I wore on Earth as a bounty hunter; it's light, durable, yet sturdy. The boots are amazing. Charlie's choice of gloves is exactly what I've been missing, and if I do say so myself." He winked. "The color ensemble seems very familiar."

"Well." Vaggie admitted. "There's a little bit of a story to that."

"Oh?" Kevin asked as he adjusted his gloves.

"After we tried to get our story told at Studio 666, which didn't go as well as we hoped—" Vaggie began.

"No shit." Charlie interjected, looking glum.

Vaggie nudged her shoulder against Charlie's and continued. "We came back here, met Alastor, and he brought in Husk and Niffty to be staff, and then suggested we needed to be more presentable as the hotel's owners."

Charlie picked up from there. "My old style was a bit softer, making me look less mature, I guess you could say?" She chuckled, "I was so giddy about the hotel and didn't really think of personal presentation. So, I changed up a bit. Got some new clothes that were sharper and crisper; more representative of being a hotel manager."

"And I." Vaggie followed, looking slightly embarrassed. "Had been so focused on supporting Charlie from the shadows, I'd not bothered to wear anything else but T-shirts and leggings. When she upgraded, so did I, and when Charlie decided to go all red in her ensemble, I wanted to honor her old style, so I went crimson and black."

"And so." Charlie finished, eyeing him with a sultry look. "We decided to give you a reverse matching look as part of our special relationship. And I think it looks incredible on you."

Vaggie gave her thigh a soft squeeze. "Same, babe."

"Well." Kevin tugged his vest down and stood at attention for his ladies. "I'm honored to be included in the ensemble."

Smirking, Vaggie stood and approached Kevin. "And the wings? They don't clash?"

Shaking his head, Kevin called upon his power, and his wings spread out behind him, widening to their full length, and he ruffled them. "I think they turned out fine, don't you?"

"Lucifer's magic definitely did better than any dye job could." Her eye drew along the edge of his wings. "But I still think the spa day for our date would have been fun."

Shrugging with a chuckle, Kevin teased. "You'll just have to choose a different activity when we go out."

"Don't think you're safe, Kevin." Charlie added from the bed, "One of us, if not both, is going to get you to the spa someday."

"I've faced worse." He wouldn't admit it to them, but the way they talked about Hell's spas, he was definitely intrigued.

Flexting her shoulders, Vaggie called on her wings and ruffled them with his, "Look at us! Two Heavenly Angels, ready to protect their precious Princess of Hell!"

Charlie pouted, "Sheesh, show offs. I wish I had wings!"

Kevin and Vaggie quickly folded theirs away. Kevin looked past Vaggie, "Sorry, Hun, we didn't mean to show off."

Charlie waved the apology away, "It's fine. I have a lot of power, enough to protect the both of you as well." A soft smile followed, "But if I ever got wings, I'd fly rings around the both of you out of spite!"

With a light chuckle, Vaggie stepped over and gave Charlie a firm kiss on the lips. "And if you did, I'd bow to my princess and kiss her feet."

A whimsical look crossed Charlie's features. "Oh?"

A light blush warned Vaggie's cheeks. "Um, kidding? Don't get any ideas, babe." Quickly, before Charlie followed up, Vaggie turned to face Kevin and changed the subject. "You're meeting Cherri in the lobby, right?"

Choosing not to tease Vaggie, though it would gain hin a point in their game, Kevin instead nodded. "Yes. We're going to check out her apartment, see if there are any clues still, since it's been a couple of months, and if so, follow them up. Otherwise, we'll probably be back before dinner time."

"Before you go, I have one other present for you." Charlie reached behind her and pulled out a small red box tied with a golden bow. She held it out to him, her eyes glowing, excited to see his reaction.

Stepping up, Kevin took the box, undid the bow, and opened the lid. "Well, well." Lifting something from the confines, Kevin held in his hand the newest Hellphone, just released the previous week. "This is very sweet, Charlie; thank you." He turned it around in his hands, giving it a full once-over. "But which service is it using? Not Vox-tech, I hope?"

"Never." Charlie shook her head firmly. "It's on Dad's private network just as mine and Vaggie's are. He wouldn't trust Vox to have any connection to us."

"I figured, but you know me." Kevin smirked.

Charlie nodded appreciatively. "Cover every detail."

"It's been set up already and has all the important contacts." Vaggie chimed in, "Charlie, me, Lucifer…" She paused, looking contrite. "Alastor." Then added, "Not that he'll pay much attention to it."

"Yeah." Charlie grumbled. "It took a lot of convincing just to have him carry one. I had to talk dad into creating an old-style phone that had no screen on it."

Surprisingly, Kevin shrugged nonchalantly, "Sounds like him. And I really appreciate this, you two." He looked at them both, giving them loving looks.

"Keep in touch at all times, please?" Charlie's smile softened with an edge of worry at the corner of her lips. "We would join you if we did not have the meeting with Dad this afternoon."

"And." Vaggie huffed lightly."I told Cherri to watch out for you."

"Or else?" Kevin asked.

Vaggie shook her head with a wicked smile. "It was implied."

With a chuckle, Kevin reached down and took his free hand to cup Charlie's chin, lifting it up so her lips were lined to his. He made her a promise: "I will call you for every reason I need to, but mostly I'll call you just to tell you I love you." And to prove that, as if he needed to, he kissed her firmly.

Charlie hummed into the kiss and returned it just as deeply. When they parted, she whispered back. "I love you, too."

Stepping back, Kevin gave her a long look, then announced. "I'm sure Cherri's been waiting downstairs long enough." Holding the phone up. "You both can reach me if needed now, so I'll be off."

Kevin started for the door before stopping and turning back around. Taking two steps, he reached Vaggie, bent down, and kissed her cheek. Whispering softly, he breathed against her ear, "For thanking you for the outfit, I'll let you be the first to take it off me when the day comes."

Sensing her movement, Kevin hopped back quickly, giving her a wicked grin as her fist missed his shoulder. She glared at him, but there was a touch of humor in her tone. "You keep wishing that, hombrecito, because that's as close as you're gonna get."

"If you say so—" Kevin winked to Charlie, who was suppressing a giggle behind her palm, then chimed out in response to her 'little man' comment, "—Lil miss."

Vaggie's eye widened, and she scowled at him. "Don't call me that!"

"You started it." Kevin countered as he stepped through the door, holding up a finger and swiping it down. "Point to me."

"¡Ese cipote cabrón!" Vaggie groused, dropping onto the bed with her arms folded closed.

In response, Charlie fell back on the bed, laughing freely, until Vaggie pinched her for having too much fun!

"Ow! Vaggie!"

SIX MONTHS AGO

It was a hard life for an Arlepine. A life lived as scavengers, hunting smaller vermin like hell rats, bugs, and other scurrying creatures in the alleys, sewers, and buildings of Pentagram City. Arlepines at maturity were about the size of a Yorkshire Terrier. They had four legs, tipped off by a single large claw, with round heads attached to an egg-shaped body, much like the head and thorax of a spider, which they resembled as they moved. Large ears, rabbit in appearance, twitched when listening for prey or predators. Some had bare heads, while others would have tufts of hair. Adolescent and adult Arlepines were capable of spitting sulfuric acid to defend themselves.

It would be the only defense for the female black-furred Arelpine, who now lay nested in a scrapheap of broken concrete and rebar in one of the many junkyards in Hell, as her swelling belly undulated. Sweat matted her forehead, but the pain she felt wasn't as bad as she'd imagined, yet it was enough to worry her that she would not be able to defend herself if other, larger vermin demons came about. For the last three months after mating, she'd scoured for a place she felt she'd be safe to give birth to her little pups, hoping each one would be given a fair chance at life as she'd been given.

It saddened her that she would not be able to stay with her newborns, but she had a rotting pile of flesh from a recent cannibal kill laying next to her for her pups to feast on once they arrived. No, she wouldn't be able to stay near them, for as newborns, they would be voracious and even go for her if she didn't crawl away fast enough. Scavenging was in the DNA of her species, and they needed all the nourishment they could get upon their birth. So, once the mother gave birth and crawled away, now only having maybe up to six months before her body would give out, her pups would hopefully flourish in the nest and grow strong and enjoy the short life they'd been gifted by the magic that created them.

But it was only as pups that Arlepines were voracious and went for anything they could. Once they reached adolescence, they were quite sociable with other Arlepines, forming hunting packs, bonding with mates, and protecting each other. It was a stark contrast to mating and birth, to be sure; for the survival of the species, it meant marrying both aspects together.

But there were rare instances—very rare but documented occurrences—that a higher form demon, an overlord, or even rarer, royalty, would take in an Arlepine as a pet. Arlepines were very much the equivalent of Earth rats. By all accounts, looked at as worthless, but could be quite friendly and bond with the one that cared for them. In fact, with the proper care, a pet Arlepine could live much longer as a pet compared to the wild.

A sharp pain hit the mother, and she gasped out a low growl and felt the first of her pups crown. Pushing with what strength she had, a single tear dropped from the corner of her eye when she heard a tiny mew indicating the first pup had been born.

Within the next hour, six pups lay nestled in a bundle against her belly, mewing softly. She knew she had moments left before their hunger would take over their weakness from being born and they'd seek out their first meal. Reaching down, she licked each one's head affectionately in a quiet farewell. When she reached the last, she saw this orange-colored pup was smaller than the others, and the mother felt bitter pain. She knew this one wouldn't last.

There was a moment where she considered ending the pup's life for its sake more than anything. Arlepines lived a hard enough life as it was, but this little one would suffer even worse, and the mother wondered if mercy would be better than letting this one become prey for its own siblings.

A nip at her knee drew her eyes down to one of the other pups, and she saw its tiny mouth covered in blood and a small chunk taken from her leg. Her time with them had come to an end. If she was going to have a small life left of her own, she had to go. Lifting up, gritting her shark-like teeth in pain from the bite—but proud her whelps would feast well—she hobbled over the top of the mound of her nest and slid down the sharp angle, rolling into the ground below with a thump.

Turning her large red eyes back up the mound, she called out a soft mew in goodbye, then turned and crawled through another pile of junk, never to be seen again.

In the nest, the pups began to separate and crawl towards the mass of meat in the corner. Each pup had a distinct color blend and markings; most were darker crimson or black, but one was a nice bright yellow with green markings, and the runt that crawled after them was a pumpkin orange with yellow markings. Round, dot-like markings ran along her legs, and she had heart-shaped dimples on her cheeks. A very small tuft of white hair nestled between her rabbit-like ears and her little black nose twitched, telling her which way to go even if her eyes had not yet fully opened.

Hungry. She thought. Smells good!

Crawling eagerly on her sharp single-toed nails, the little runt followed her siblings to the meal. She heard ripping and chewing, suggesting the others had already begun. Reaching the mass, she licked her lips and opened her mouth. But before she could take a bit, a larger mound of fur smacked against her.

No eat. One of her larger siblings hissed at her with clicks and growling sounds. You weak. you die soon. no waste on you.

Hungry! The little runt cried out with a defiant mew. I small but strong!

Sounds like laughter echoed among the other pups, who were feasting happily. The bully pushed at the runt. No waste on you. you weak. go from nest, die elsewhere.

Please? the runt begged. I scared.

Stay and die. The bully clapped its jaws in the runts face.

Denying the bully its power, the runt moved forward anyway, intent to take a bite from the fleshy mount. It was a mistake. The pups all turned as one, hissing and clicking their teeth. Weak. Small. Waste. Food for us!

The runt sensed their focus was now on her. Tears burned at the corner of her eyes, which had still barely opened, but her senses were strong. Backing away, she hit the corner of the nest, turned, and dug her claws around a piece of rebar that jutted out from the mound and pulled upwards. She heard her siblings moving towards her. Eat the runt. Eat the runt!

Finding the ledge, she fell over and tumbled until she painfully hit the ground. Laughter rose from the nest for a few, then soon died down, replaced by voracious chewing.

The runt sniffed quietly and shuffled under a large pile of bricks, squeezing into a tight space, and lowered her head against her crossed arms.

Hungry. She cried herself to sleep.

The passage of time is of no significance to an animal, but the throbbing ache of a stomach is as painful as the piercing toll of a cruel alarm clock. Eyes popping open, the little runt saw clearly for the first time, which was remarkable because it was as dark as the Pride ring ever got, and darted around to see if there was any danger.

Thankfully, it seemed quiet, but she could hear the pups in the nest sleeping, their bellies full. Mewing softly, the runt crawled forward out of the safety of her hiding place. She was starving and very weak. She couldn't even crawl up the nest and try to sneak whatever may be left of the meat, but she had to find something. With tentative steps, she moved along the edge of the trash pile towards lights glittering far away—the lights of the city. Instinct guided her, as did her nose. The foul stench of garbage meant a trash center must be located right next to the scrap yard, and where there is garbage, there must be scraps and other carrion.

She'd barely made it twenty yards when she saw something move out of the corner of her eye. Turning, the runt saw two beady eyes staring at her from out of another pile across the way. Immediately, she knew she'd exposed herself to other predators. Twisting about in a quick circle, the little runt looked for a safe place to hide, but a low growl behind her told her time was not with her.

Turning back to face the eyes that were now moving towards her from the pile, the runt let out a weak growl of her own. Sadly, as a newborn, it came out as more of a weak bark than a threatening warning, and the thing across the way stepped from the shadows.

The animal resembled a mix of a reptile and canine, one of Hell's more 'creative' creations, and its long snout was lined with pinlike teeth. It uttered out a gutteral growl as it ran its long, barbed tongue across black, fleshy lips.

Lost, little runt? It asked, snapping its jaws menacingly.

Leave alone. The runt clicked back, shrinking down in fear. No eat me.

But you look so tasty. The creature chortled, digging its claws into the ground, its muscles tensing as if to pounce.

Before the creature could strike, the runt turned and ran for the smallest crevice in the junk piles she could find. A roar behind her told her she was now hunted. Tears threatened to break free. All she wanted was a chance to live, but this world had seemed to decide that she wasn't worth the chance.

Stuffing her front end between two tight pieces of concrete, the runt found herself trapped with her rear end exposed. She cried, closed her eyes, and prepared for her end.

A sudden shriek of pain came from behind her, the painful cries of the predator turning into a gargled mess before silence drowned everything out. Slowly, the runt pushed away until she was free and fell on her haunches, shaking her head. Peering behind her, she saw nothing. The thing that had attacked was no longer there. A sound above her made her look up. A flying predator, even larger than the reptilian dog, was carrying the thing away in its massive jaws.

She'd been saved by another predator, but now she understood she was too small and too weak to be hunting at night. Sad and hungry, the little runt started back towards the small space she'd been sleeping in, hoping it would afford her enough protection until daylight, when she'd try again.

Before she reached her shelter, she saw something skittering in front of her. Peering her eyes at it, she saw a cockroach moving up a mound of dirt.

Smaller than me. She thought. Prey!

Thinking of how the other creature moved to attack her, she jumped at it. With a pounce, the runt went airborne about three feet and came down, piercing the cockroach with her front claw. Quickly, in case another predator, like her siblings, tried to take her catch, she popped the still-squirming bug into her mouth and chewed.

Delicious! She crooned with delight. This taste good!

Whatever it was, it had soothed the pain in her belly just a bit, but she wanted more. So much more. She needed strength. But it wouldn't be safe to hunt in the dark; she'd already learned that. Scurrying back to her tiny den, the runt curled into a tight ball and hid. Soon, sleep took over, and she drifted off.

When morning came, her belly gurgled with a plea for more food. Carefully scanning out her tiny hole, she saw movement on the city streets but nothing inside the junkyard. Slinking out, the runt began to forage and soon caught on that the bugs moved under things, out of sight, and she went about turning over rocks, boards, whatever was movable, and a feast soon revealed itself.

Careful to keep aware of her surroundings in case other predators showed themselves, she went about chomping down on whatever she caught, and soon the little runt was sated and free of the aching pain of her stomach. It was truly luck, and she knew it, which meant not getting comfortable. Bugs would be easy to find, easier than the carrion that her species normally hunted, which would afford her time to build up her own strength.

But she'd been pushed from the nest of her siblings, the family she was meant to grow with, bond with, and protect each other from the creatures that were larger and stronger and saw her kind as their own meals. With no protection, no chance to bond, the little runt would never be allowed to be included in any other social society when she grew to her next stage.

No, the little one wasn't just a runt; she was now an outcast. An outcast with no future but the one she'd have to make for herself.

Soon, the little runt found a spot at the far end of the junkyard, far away from the hustle and bustle of the city and the demons and sinners that moved about, and would hunt in the mid-morning and early evening, spending the rest of her time hiding in her hole. As the months passed, she grew fast, became strong, and no longer feared the other scavengers in the yard. She learned when the other predators hunted and feasted when they slept. But a full stomach and strong body were no balm for the one thing she didn't have. Family.

The Arlepine runt mewed one night, eyes wet, realizing that no matter how big and strong she'd get, she'd forever be alone.

Friend? She cried as she fell to sleep. Can I have friend?