Charlie's Angels - Pieces

by Kkat FoE

Preparations are underway for the wedding of Charlie, Vaggie and Emily! But Alastor has clued Charlie onto a great mystery that has ensnared both the Radio Demon and her own mother. As Charlie investigates, a threat to everyone in Hell and Heaven alike begins to take form. One with personal ties to herself and others in the Hazbin Hotel.

12. Wars and Rumors of Wars

Chapter Eleven

Wars and Rumors of Wars

Week Six, Day Four - Badlands, Wrath, daybreak:

"You trust us, right?" Charlie heard Vaggie tease.

"Of course I do!" Charlie said, staring into the blackness of the blindfold. Then teased back, "As long as you're not trusting me to jog back to the RV. I can barely feel my legs."

It was almost not an exaggeration. This was the dawn of the second full day of their honeymoon, and she had spent the entirety of yesterday in an insane cycle of nearly excruciating ecstasy and whimpering recovery. Charlie was dead certain orgasms that fierce would have been extremely painful without a seraphim involved. Also probably impossible without a seraphim involved.

And she had spent almost all of it blindfolded. If she hadn't heard Vaggie insisting on it, she would have sworn Emily had another new kink.

She was actually getting a little tired of the blindfold. Although it had given exploring her wives by touch a whole new excitement. And it had made being fed by her wives especially sweet.

She felt Emily's arms wrap around her from behind. Heard the flap of her wings. And felt herself lifted. Higher and higher.

"Okay, you can take the blindfold off now," Vaggie said. Charlie was quick to do so, pulling it from her face. She found herself staring into the face of her beautiful, one-eyed wife. Vaggie hovered in front of her. She looked impossibly gorgeous in the fiery light of Wrath's dawn. Her hair was mussed. Her body naked save for her eyepatch. Charlie's heart burst with love. After not being allowed to see her wives for over a day, the sight was like a million cupid's arrows into her heart.

Vaggie shifted to her side and Charlie's heart seized as she saw the devastation.

Centered on what had been their camp, the Badlands looked like they had been beaten by a divine sledgehammer. There were cracks - actual Hellquake fissures! - radiating from where they had pitched their tent two nights ago. The longest probably stretched three miles. Their camp was nowhere to be seen.

"OHMYGOSH!" Charlie's hands lifted to her face in humiliated shock. Yes, everyone teased about this sort of thing, but it was supposed to be a joke! They weren't supposed to actually break Hell! Charlie buried her face in her hands. "I broke Wrath!..."

Emily was giggling merrily as she held Charlie aloft.

With a mousy squeak, Charlie asked Vaggie, "Did the RV survive?"

"By a literal miracle," Vaggie answered, directing her gaze to the rented vehicle. It stood safe and sound on a jagged island. The ground around it had split open and collapsed in on every side. "I have no idea how to get it off of there though."

"So, which ring next?" Emily cheered.

"One far enough away that Satan can't find me," Charlie whimpered. The rumble of her stomach interrupted her. She laughed at her own expense. "Okay. First we find someplace to eat. Then we flee Satan's Wrath."

Vaggie nodded. "Sounds like a plan." From the bounce, she could guess Emily was nodding too. "We'll need to pick up some more camping gear too. After this, we're not risking a hotel with other people in it."

Charlie groaned in embarrassment. "No, definitely not. Although tonight it's going to be Emily's turn!" That got a squeak from behind her. Charlie gazed into Vaggie's eye, promising, "Then yours!"

Vaggie swallowed in delighted apprehension.

"So... was all the camping equipment... um... lost?"

"Honey, the word you're looking for is pulverized."

---

Week Six, Day Four - Tel Megiddo, Living World, late afternoon:

The rumble outside announced the arrival of another truck.

"Welcome to Tel Megiddo Tours!" Ruth announced through a winning smile, speaking clearly into the microphone. "The next tour departs in twenty minutes. It's a long hike, so be sure you're stocked up on camera film and bottled water! If any of you are running low, check out the gift shop! We also have cell phone recharging stations in the back. They take all major credit cards."

She smiled and winked at the gaggle of tourists. "And remember, if you see any angels or demons, don't panic. It's only the end of the world." That got some laughs.

Ruth waited for any stupid questions, then put down the microphone and strode to the window. The covered pickup better hold the goods she was waiting for. She had real customers.

A young man in a garish yellow and orange striped shirt and sunglasses approached her. "Hey, babe. Love that design on your shirt. What's the symbol?"

Ruth's relaxed posture was only for show. "Rapture of Roo," she told him. "It's a band."

"Heard of them," the young man said. "Don't they have an album coming out next month."

Ruth locked the till, pocketing the key, and motioned for the man to follow. She glanced at them in the mirror dish as she guided him into the back rooms. Either he was a human or he had an exceptionally good disguise.

Not going to be an "album" if we don't get the fucking Tear back.

She knocked on Tamar's door. At the grunt, she opened it and let the contact into the back office. She slipped in behind him, closing the door and dropping her own human disguise.

"I bring ominous tidings," the young man said. He didn't change, but he didn't flinch at being in a room with two demons. "The Vessel has been destroyed. Permanently."

Fuck! The body of Eve had been the Vessel since SHE first crawled into the Living World. Even if they could find someone willing to submit, it wasn't like there was another fucking Fruit. And they'd lost the only thing that could substitute.

Tamar flexed his membranous wings and chittered at her. "Samuel was your responsibility."

Ruth winced. Samuel was a fucking thief who stole from us. What was I supposed to do? I was comatose in a hospital in fucking Sloth!

Ruth said none of those things. Because Samuel had been her responsibility. She had been the one stupid enough to bring the cockstain in. Samuel had betrayed her to one of the local gangs. She'd been held captive and tortured for two weeks before they tried to off her.

Well, at least he got what was coming to him.

But as satisfying as it was, shredding his soul didn't fix any of the problems he had caused. And it particularly didn't get back what he sold to some shitass fucking bird.

"I'll bring it back myself," Ruth said.

The sloughing noise from Tamar told her she could depart now. In fact, it would be extremely wise to. Glittering fractures of diamond light swirled around her as Ruth retook her human form.

She slipped out of the back office. Heard the door bolt behind her. Leaned against it and sucked in a breath. She could use a hit right now.

Instead, she strode out into the arid heat. She put on her smile like she put on her disguise, and waved to the truck driver. "Let's see what wonderful trinkets you've got for me this time!" she said cheerfully. "Anything on the list prove too hard to procure?"

"Got it all, Ruth!" came the reply. Good.

If she was going back to Hell, she wasn't going empty-handed. It was a source of personal pride that her customers knew the right succubus.

---

Week Six, Day Four - Alastor's Radio Tower, daybreak:

Alastor strode down the hallway towards his radio tower, humming to himself. The affectation of cheerfulness was important.

A little crackle of radio static accompanied the realization that someone was waiting for him at the door to his radio station. Charlie was away on another Ring, and Niffty still wasn't speaking to him - a thought that brought a dull pang of annoyance - so he really wasn't expecting anyone to seek him out. Especially not the puppy.

Crymini was sitting on the floor, her back against the door to his radio tower. He stopped, looming over her. "I'm going to need you to move," he said casually, radio distortion in his voice.

The puppy Sinner looked up at him and pulled out her earbuds. "Fix the radio."

That received a sharp radio crackle and a raised eyebrow. "Whatever do you mean?" Alastor asked. The radio was hardly broken. Unless the girl meant one she had stolen.

"You fucked up the radio," Crymini accused, standing up. "If what people are saying is true, and this is the age of a whole new Radio Demon, maybe start by un-fucking it?"

Ah. So Husker talked. Or perhaps one of the throuple. If Alastor was a gambler, he would have bet on Emily. But he wasn't. He left that vice to Husk. "My dear, I am the radio. There would be no radio in Hell without me." It would all be television now. "How exactly have I fucked it?"

Crymini looked at him as if he must be joking.

Everyone else in the hotel has had their recriminations, why not the stray? But no, that was uncharitable. Alastor was well aware that Crymini actually listened to his broadcasts sometimes. Now that he had lost Niffty, she may be the only one left in the hotel who did. He supposed he owed her a listen in return.

"Seriously, tell me," Alastor said. "I love to hear from my listeners."

The teenage puppy demon stared at him a moment. Then stepped away, turning to motion to the door. He shrugged. Well, if she wasn't going to say anything. But she did, the moment he reached for the door.

"Used to love the radio when I was alive, y'know. Best fucking thing in my life, honestly."

More than a little in common, it would seem. Alastor perked. "Really. Not the picture box?"

"Fuck no. Television always sucked," Crymini groused as Alastor opened the door to his radio tower. "It's public. Lowest common denominator shit."

Well now. Alastor's smile felt more genuine than it had all morning. He suspected the feeling would pass swiftly, but why not enjoy it while it was here. He stood aside and motioned for the permanent teenager to precede him into the lower level of his radio tower. "Oh, do go on!"

Crymini insisted he walk in first. Paranoia, he supposed. He obliged and she followed, going on as requested. "It was always the same, no matter what home I was shunted into. Having the television on means whatever you're watching is inflicted on everybody. So majority decided what we watched. I never liked the shit the rest of the chucklecunts wanted, so I was always overruled. Constant stream of the most banal shit you can imagine."

She stopped. He caught her mutter under her breath, "Well, no, the screams are worse. But not by much." Ah. So that was how he had fucked up the radio. Everyone's a critic.

"And it's pictures, which means you can't even imagine shit," Crymini ranted. "You're stuck with whatever lame-ass special effects crap the shows could come up with on their gum wrapper budgets."

Crymini held out her hands in a wave. "Radio though? That was personal. I could choose whatever station I wanted. Put on some headphones. Tune the entire shitty world out." She followed him as he opened the hatch to his radio station and climbed up. "I didn't need to be rich enough to own my own tapes. It was all free. And it was portable. I could take it with me, climb the fence, go for a walk, get some fresh smog. All while it took me the fuck away from my life."

There was a sense of love there. And deep bitterness. "Coming here and finding the radio fucked was the worst part of Hell." She rolled her eyes. "Well, for the first months. Dying to acid rain beat it out the first time that happened."

Crymini fell silent, looking at the station around her. The ON AIR sign was dark. The windows gave a panoramic view of the city. Alastor's eyebrows raised. More earnestly, he encouraged, "Go on."

"Radio shouldn't just be entertainment," Crymini insisted. "It should be escape. You should be able to tune in and hear things you can't hear just opening your window. Screams? I can hear those anytime from anywhere. It's fucking Hell."

Alastor's smile thinned. He walked about, taking in his station and the city beyond. The early morning light was bathing Pentagram City in bloody hues.

"I will admit, the screams were something I was Contractually obligated to provide." Well, mostly true. He had been required to make the death of the Overlords a very public example. The exact method of doing so had been left entirely up to him. "I am no longer obligated to do so."

He turned back towards Crymini. "As a loyal listener, what would you suggest?"

"You should broadcast more often," the puppy Sinner barked. "Super easy to tune in and just get that screaming shit and never know there was anything else. Also, screams of your victims? That's about as inventive as playing seagull cries on an island station. And as edgy as wearing black in a cave with no lights. I've had your jambalaya; anyone who can cook as good as you do can figure out something less stupid to put on between shows."

"Hell, even Vox has figured out commercials, which are barely a step up, and he's a fucking television." Spoken almost as if it's a curse word.

Alastor's smile widened. "And did you have anything you wanted to request?"

Crymini blinked. It took the puppy girl a moment to process that he was actually giving her words serious consideration rather than just letting her rant. An eager smirk crawled across her muzzle.

"Have you heard Na, Na, Na?"

---

Week Six, Day Four - Vees Tower, early morning:

Velvette walked into Vox's media sanctum, sipping a red velvet latte and checking her messages. Fifteen from Hell-O Kitty... why, Emberlynn? Just why? None from the one-armed angel she really hoped to get a message from.

"Hey, Vox?" she asked, not looking up from her phone. "Our Contracts allow transferral between Dealmakers, not Overlords. So how difficult would it be to pass the porn cat some of mine?"

Vox spun in his chair. "Velvette! Good morning!" he said with far too much cheer. He blinked. "Now why would you want to give up Contracts?"

"Because I've been looking at the ones I got from Valentino," Velvette said. She felt that should be enough explanation. Some of them were just nasty. In a way that left a rotten taste in her mouth. "What's up with you this morning?" she asked, finally looking up.

Her eyes registered images of the Hazbin Hotel on nearly every screen. "Vox. What the fuck is this?"

"Retribution!" Vox answered with a warping electrical distortion. "I've confirmed that Lucifer's brat and the High Featherduster are out of the Ring. And Alastor isn't."

Velvette got it. "You've been waiting for the honeymoon." Vox could finally act without risking collateral damage that would bring the King of Hell down on their asses. Sure, Lucifer and his princess would be sore at any other losses, but not at an eradicate the Vees level.

Vox was grinning. "Today is going to be a very fucking happy day in Hell."

Velvette looked to the few screens not showing the hotel. A couple focused on the Heaven Embassy. There were a couple screens showing flowing technical data, graphs, wavelengths. One caught her eye. She knew cell phone packets when she saw them.

Vox spun back to his console. "Your ass is glass, you old-timey fucker."

It took only a moment for Velvette to grasp Vox's plan. "I'll leave you to it then. I've got to meet with... ugh... Hell-O Kitty."

Vox smiled, digital blood running down from his electrical mouth. "Have fun," he dismissed, not really paying her any attention. He was focused on his prey, zooming the main screen on the hotel's radio tower.

Velvette gave a finger and walked out, eyes back on her phone. The heavy doors to the media sanctuary closed behind her.

Alone in the hallway, Velvette moved until she was out of sight of Vox's security cameras, then pulled up her speeddial.

"Lute! I need you to meet me at Cafe Magne," Velvette said urgently. "But first, get everyone out of the fucking hotel! Right now!"

---

Week Six, Day Four - Hazbin Hotel, early morning:

"Ugh!" Angel Dust laid his head on the bar counter. He figured as often as Husk wiped it down, it was probably the cleanest surface in the hotel. No disrespect to Niffty. "The job is a blessing, but the night shifts are killing me." Last week, he fought to shift his sleep to be awake for the wedding. Now he was shifting it back. Without days off to do it. "Maybe I should ask Molly to shoot me with her crossbow."

"You could give her a call," Husk purred, daring to reach out and stroke Angel Dust's hair. "That's a thing we can do now. Sir Pentious has everyone in the hotel on the trial run."

Niffty came out of the kitchen, skipping through the parlor. She hopped over Razzle, who was on the floor with a box of Charlie's crayons, doodling. Razzle looked up and gave her a wave.

Niffty stopped in front of Angel Dust. "You look tired. You okay for breakfast?"

"I am tired," Angel Dust said, not moving his head, enjoying the feel of Husk's paw. "But yeah. I can cook. No problem."

"Great!" Niffty said. "Oh, don't eat any of the rats. Those are for Crymini's friend."

Angel Dust tried not to make a face. He failed.

Niffty spun and looked down beside the bar. "Ready?"

Vanexa nodded, bookmarking the novel she was reading and stowing it in her purse. She stood up, brushing down her dress. The purple vixen was wearing a casual dress with a floral pattern of bloody roses. The purse hung at her left side, the strap crossing her chest from her right shoulder, accentuating her breasts. They really didn't need it.

"That's a new look," Angel Dust commented.

"We're having a Girl's Day!" Niffty exclaimed.

Angel Dust sat up with a gasp. "And you didn't invite me?"

"You wouldn't want to go," Husk rumbled. "The day ends at Vees Tower. Possibly signing Contracts."

"Oh," Angel Dust lost all interest. Hard no. "Niffty, please don't sign with one of the Vees."

"Okay!" Niffty said. Then added, "A chain from Velvette would be like a chain from Husk. But Emberlynn isn't a Vee. And I haven't decided to sell her my soul. I'm just going to listen."

Angel Dust exchanged a look of bewilderment with Husk. In what world were those comparable?

Husk gave Vanexa one last attempt, "Like I said before, I think this is a bad idea. I don't know or trust this Pinkle woman. And I know not to trust either of the Vees."

"Would it displease you, Master?" Vanexa asked cautiously.

Husk closed his eyes. "No. This is not something I get to make decisions for you on. Nor do I get to judge your choice."

"It is a lien, Master," Vanexa reminded him. "I will never become hers because I can never abandon you. Blank Contracts don't have escape clauses."

Niffty frowned. "Don't let her go!" she told Husk.

Husk put up his hands. "Not going to." As the two women walked towards the door, Angel Dust heard him rumble, "Especially not now."

To liven the mood, Angel Dust noted, "I would have loved to see Vaggie's face when Niffty asked to start keeping rats in the fridge again."

Lute walked into the parlor, holding her phone. "Razzle, please get Baxter. Husk, I need you to open a portal to Cafe Magne. Right now."

Husk and Angel Dust turned towards her. "Why?"

Lute pocketed her phone. "I don't know."

The one-armed albino woman walked to the opposite wall and pulled the fire alarm.

---

Week Six, Day Four - Crymini's Bedroom, early morning:

Crymini shook off another cold shower and tossed on the closest shirt from her Cherri Bomb commemorative wardrobe, ears perked from the knock on the door. She danced awkwardly into some panties as the knock repeated. "Coming!"

Octavia was standing just outside, holding her phone. The owl girl's eyes widened at Crymini's dampness and state of dress, quickly turning away.

"Come on in," Crymini invited, cutting off her apology. "You're not interested and I'm not precious. I've been up for a while."

Octavia hesitated a moment then walked in, an almost giddy happiness breaking across her face. She held up her phone for Crymini to see. "We're not banned!"

The puppy Sinner blinked. Then leaned closer to read the message from Stylish Occult. "Vicious!" She knew this had been eating at her friend. "That place is alpha."

Octavia hugged her phone happily.

"Means more than just a vicious wardrobe, huh?" Crymini guessed. The owl teen nodded.

"I got dad to take me there once," Octavia said. "It was... after something. And he was finally paying attention to me. Like, the real me." She looked down at her phone again. Then put it away. "We spent hours there. Just talking while I browsed."

"Sounds nice," Crymini said, feeling just a little jealous. She bit back on that. She had three moms. She had it good now.

"After, he bought me my first taxidermy set," Octavia added. "And tried to watch me practice with it on rats from the fridge." She laughed a little. "Until he couldn't take it anymore. He doesn't handle morbid well."

Crymini chuckled. She could see that. "We gotta go sometime." Her goth friend agreed.

"But... uh... look, this is going to sound bad, but..." Crymini confessed, "If we do, before we leave the store, I need you to remind me to do a pocket check."

Octavia stared at her.

"I have a bad habit," Crymini sighed. "I'm working to break it. But..." She looked away. "Fuck, if you knew the DD, you'd understand."

"The... Doomsday District," Octavia said slowly. "Made you a klepto?" Crymini winced. "You know, you use that place as an excuse for a lot. I'm thinking maybe I really should take up that offer to visit Jack out there sometime."

"Why?" Crymini asked, surprised at the turn. She was expecting judgment. "It's absolute dank. Really not a place for a princess."

Octavia gave her a look. "I hang out at Goetia mausoleums for the ambiance, love horror stories and murder mysteries, play guitar and practice taxidermy. I don't do being a princess." With a melancholy smile, she said. " I don't think I can really know you until I see it for myself."

A little like your father did when he went to Stylish Occult?

"Yeah, we'll do that," Crymini promised. Her eyes caught on the little clock on the bed. "Hey, should be about time for breakfast. You should head down. Niffty's probably cooked up something incredible." She couldn't help but tease, "I mean, maybe not cupboard-rats incredible..."

Octavia grabbed one of the pillows off the bed and threw it in her face.

"What about you?" Via asked, teasing back. "Cute puppy dogs eat too."

Crymini growled and flung the pillow back.

Octavia laughed. But there was a brief look of alarm. Crymini winced. "Oh... sorry. Growl wasn't intended. I'm... a little... not at my best. So I'm skipping breakfast today."

You're safe, but I really don't want to inflict myself on the others right now.

Octavia picked the pillow up from the carpet. "Yeah, well, eating breakfast with a bunch of strangers in a strange place? Without the friend who invited me? I'll pass."

She paused, holding the pillow. It was like a shadow had fallen over her. "I've never done this."

Crymini raised an eyebrow. "Skipped breakfast? Or had a pillow fight? Fuck, even I've had a pillow fight before. Sure, it was more cushions-from-a-ratty-old-sofa fight, but it still counts."

Octavia nodded. "It wasn't like there's ever been anyone to have it with." She sighed, putting the pillow back on the bed. "It just hit me that I'm supposed to be married and have children and I have no idea what that's actually supposed to look like."

I'm sure not the one to ask.

But a word caught the forever teen's attention. "Children."

"Plural."

Crymini's face twisted in disgust. So many things need to be on fucking fire.

"Can you even have kids?" she asked. "Seviathan's an abomination."

Octavia tossed up her hands, her voice cracking. "Who knows? It's Hell. Either way, I'll be obligated to keep trying until we do."

"Can you fucking adopt?"

Via stared, eyes widening. "I... don't know. Paimon will want a Goetia, but... I'll find out. Thank you, Crymini!"

It didn't surprise Crymini that she could leap to options Octavia hadn't considered. Via was an actual teen where Crymini had three extra decades of experience poured to her permanently teenage-developed brain.

Crymini had no idea how abomination brains worked. Given that Seviathan's phone was unlocked by drawing a dick, she was willing to bet the man wasn't outrunning Octavia up the maturity staircase. But the experience imbalance could tear. Then again, the moms handled it like a fucking musical number.

Octavia looked like she wanted to hug her. But restrained herself, knowing Crymini's feelings about personal space. "Lucifer, maybe I can get out of at least one loathsome part of this!"

She stopped, closing her eyes, cringing at her own words. Crymini understood why. She'd just called having kids loathsome.

Via looked aside. "Which feels horrible to say. But do you have any idea what it's like to have someone forcing you to have sex with someone against your will?"

"A little," Crymini said. "But not like what you're going through."

Octavia cocked her head.

"My heat cycle's started," Crymini admitted. "On the fucking Wedding Day! Be thankful owls have shit sense of smell, cuz I reek."

She was thankful for someone she could vent to. "Physical urges haven't kicked in, but my body already feels extra unpleasant, and I'm getting intrusive thoughts."

Now it was Octavia's turn to express disgust. "That's horrible. At least Paimon can't force himself into my head."

Crymini opened her muzzle to respond, but was cut off by the fire alarm.

---

Week Six, Day Four - Cafe Magne, morning:

Demons looked up from their coffee and confections, many startled by the appearance of a portal ringed in infernal flame, spilling out a motley collection of demons and one fallen angel.

But this was City Center. The Heaven Embassy was right across the street. Three days ago, Heaven itself opened overhead (without Exorcists pouring out). The park was still littered with wedding garbage (and would be until the acid rain destroyed it all). Less than three months ago, there was a riot that got stopped by a musical number. By the same women who got married three days ago.

The regulars at Cafe Magne were starting to take strangeness in stride.

Angel Dust was doing his best to do so as well. Calm and orderly. Like a fire drill at The Bondage Club. Now that they were out, it was time to count heads.

Dramatics and overreacting were not Lute's style. The woman said she didn't know why, so somebody Lute trusted hit the panic button. She led the rescue party that pulled his ass out of Greed. He was willing to go on faith.

"Where's Niffty?" Lute asked, looking around as Crymini and her owl friend, Octavia, came through.

"What's going on?" Octavia asked anxiously.

"Good question," Husk answered.

"She left with Vanexa just before you came in," Angel Dust told Lute as Husk moved to close the portal to the Hazbin Hotel. "They're having a Girls' Day."

The look of relief on Lute's face was subtle but clear. Despite every reason things should be otherwise, the fallen Exorcist actually cared about their little, psychotic, Adam-slaying gremlin of a housekeeper.

And that relief brought sarcasm. "And they didn't invite you?"

"I know, right?" Angel Dust replied. Knowing what he did, he wouldn't have wanted to go. But still! It's the principle!

"What is the reason for this interruption?" Baxter asked, seething with exasperation. Crymini edged away, moving towards the side alley. The bird girl followed her.

Lute pulled out her phone when it buzzed. She checked the text then held her phone out, away from everyone.

Angel Dust cocked an eyebrow. "Taking a picture of..." The words the street were cut off by a special effects cascade that selfied Velvette into existence next to the albino woman.

"..Vel!? What the fuck is this?" Angel Dust demanded. The Vees were where his faith ended.

Velvette wasn't Valentino, but she might as well have signed off on every horrible fucking thing he did. He knew she'd gotten involved in things last month, so Charlie was viewing her as not the enemy. Which was very Charlie. But in his estimation, not very smart.

"What are you doing here?" Angel Dust hated this. "And since when could you do that?"

"Saving your asses," the youngest of the Vess shot back at him while exchanging short nods with Lute. Probably the closest their language came to thank you and you're welcome. "And since Valentino died." Velvette looked around, frowning. "Where's Niffty?"

"Wonderful. More people," Baxter complained.

"Not in the hotel," Lute informed her. "Girl's Day with Vanexa."

"Good," Velvette said, then stopped. "Wait, Vanexa? Valentino's succu-vixen? She ended up in Princess Morningstar's hotel?"

Lute nodded. "She chained with Husk."

"Seriously," Angel Dust insisted. "What the fuck is going on?"

Velvette shook her head. "How the fuck did I miss her during the whole whiteboard thing?"

"She stays in her room a lot when Husk isn't around," Lute said. With Niffty's safety established, she too focused on finding out why she pulled the hotel fire alarm. "Why clear the Hazbin Hotel?"

"Vox is going to kill Alastor, and he's going to take the whole hotel with him," Velvette said.

"WHAT!? " Angel Dust wasn't the only one to shout.

"When?" Lute asked.

"How?" Husk demanded.

Velvette told them, "He's going to hijack Heaven's death ray and use it to erase Alastor's radio tower while he's in there broadcasting." She added, "He said Alastor's ass was glass."

"Fuck!" Husk shook his head. "Has that thing ever not been a problem?"

Vanexa had been right. With Charlie and her wives gone, the hotel was a target.

"Wait, is this about Valentino?" Angel Dust asked. He was remembering Husk's words in the argument a month ago: It means we've taken out an Overlord. Or, at least, a whole lot of very dangerous people are going to think we have.

Nothing had come of that, but now maybe something was. Maybe Charlie was right. We should have investigated.

At Velvette's nod, Husk disagreed. "I doubt Vox really believes Alastor killed Valentino with a car bomb. Valentino is an excuse." He stared at Velvette. "I'm guessing you already know who did."

The social media Overlord was pointedly silent. "I thought so," Husk rumbled.

"Well, I'm sure Vox can try." Baxter rolled his eyes behind his glasses. "Heaven's technology is far past anything we have in Hell. No doubt it will be like trying to open a bank vault with a bobby pin and a screwdriver."

"Heaven doesn't even have a proper firewall," Velvette told him, waving dismissively. "Making the technologies compatible has been the focus of the stupid Heavenly Cell Soul project. Vox has had drones in Heaven analyzing the system for a month."

"How are there not safeguards against this?" Baxter said. He turned an accusing look on Lute. "Have angels never heard of hacking?"

"Sir Pentious checked those drones," Angel Dust argued. "They can't do anything but watch."

"They don't have to do anything else," Velvette said. "Vox will do everything himself."

The social media Overlord stared at them, astounded that they didn't get it. "Vox could travel through security cameras even before Reclamation Day. You don't get how much more powerful we are now."

"What's Reclamation Day?" Angel Dust asked.

"I think I know," Husk said, answering for the Vee. "Vox and Velvette got most of the souls Val owned when he died. We have no way of knowing what Vox can do now."

Velvette scowled. "How do you know that?"

"I saw one of your Contracts," Husk told her flatly. "With the one I saw, the transfer would be practically instantaneous. Vanexa's proof they haven't always been like that one. But Vox got a huge power boost practically overnight. So did you."

"You saw one of our Contracts?" Velvette growled. "How!?"

Oh fuck! Angel Dust felt Hell drop out from under him as he pictured Vox taking control of Heaven's technology by sheer Overlord power and force of will. "I'm calling Sir Pentious!" He pulled out his phone, thankful for the miracle of speed dial.

Lute spun, looking around until she spotted Crymini and the owl girl in the alley. They were huddled, sharing the puppy demon's earbuds.

"Crymini!" she called out, getting the girl's attention. "How long before Alastor's next broadcast?"

The two looked up, startled. "He's broadcasting now," Crymini grinned, giving a fist pump. "He just announced he's going to start doing music instead of the stupid fucking screams."

"Then it's too late," Velvette told him as he stared at his phone, begging Pentious to pick up.

---

Week Six, Day Four - Oripat, Heaven, morning:

Marigold walked into Oripat. The once abandoned warehouse was now the gathering place for a dozen angels, some of them in bad shape. The bird angel tried to spot someone in authority.

"I heard this is where I can beat the fuck out of an Exorcist."

That day behind the Courthouse played out again in her mind. This isn't over until every one of these fuckers is cast down! I know my mother deserved to be down there, but she didn't deserve to be killed! She... she could have gotten better!

A cyclopean angel made her way through the small group. Her eye had a star-shaped pupil and was swollen, ringed with gold. She had golden bruises and her raiment was torn. She grinned at Marigold with teeth wet with her own ichor. "Maybe. Or maybe she'll beat the crap out of ya."

"Nobody's gonna be holding her down for ya. This is a fair fight. Name's Cherri Bomb," the angel said as she moved up to her, putting an arm around her shoulder. Marigold stiffened at the invasion of her personal space. "Ascended demon. This place is my idea."

"Ascended... like Sir Pentious?" Marigold looked her up and down as the battered and bloodied ex-demon nodded. Marigold had heard rumors there was a second one. Of course. Who else would dare set up something like this?

"And it's all voluntary," Cherri Bomb told her. "If no Exorcist wants to fight ya, you get someone else. Or ya leg it. Ya came lookin' for a little vengeance? Shocks exactly zero angels here. But this is about gettin' out that aggression. Exorcising your anger."

The cyclopean angel turned to look her eye to eyes. "Ya decide t' stay, ya gotta stick to the rules. And remember, the Golden Library is watching."

Marigold frowned. This was not what she was hoping for, but it was what she should have been expecting. "What's the rules?" The last months had been a figurative hell. She had anger and grief and no way to vent, so she wasn't turning around.

"One on one. No outside help," Cherri Bomb listed. "Match lasts until somebody says stop, taps out, or passes out. No attacks that maim or kill. No weapons. That includes shoes. No spitting. Don't care what ya think of your opponent: ya fight with respect."

"We fight barefoot?"

"You'll be happy we do," Cherri Bomb said, smiling gold. "Stomping's allowed."

A badger angel limped up. He was bleeding from one ear and had Heavenly bandages around his abdomen. He clapped Cherri Bomb on the back, getting a tender wince. "Good fight! Thanks for this."

"Same, Hossam. See ya next week?" Cherri Bomb asked.

Marigold's feathers ruffled in surprise. You couldn't tell an Exorcist by sight, but she knew they were all women. It made sense to beat up them. Why was the ex-demon fighting other angels?

"If this is still here next week, you bet," Hossam said.

"Plan to be," Cherri Bomb said. "Tell anyone you think this could help." As the badger limped out of Oripat, the ringleader of Heaven's fight club told Marigold, "That's Hossam. He was a war vet in the living world. Got killed when the neighboring country shelled civilian housing. The Kirkbride wasn't giving him a way to vent the anger born of that. This is good for him."

"There's a dozen people here. How long have you been doing this?"

"Two days." Cherri Bomb continued introductions. "This is Mikhal. He's helping make sure everyone fights by the rules. And over there? That's Ro. She's helping make sure nobody breaks anyone in a way that ain't fixed by the end of tomorrow."

Drums like gunfire accompanied an aggressive electric guitar riff. "One sec..." Cherri Bomb said, stepping away and pulling out her phone. She answered it with a smile in her voice. "Penty! How they hangin'?"

Marigold watched the cheer drain out of Heaven's pugilist angel. Quickly replaced with alarm. "Fuck! I'm on my way!"

Cherri Bomb spun. "Mikhal, Ro!" Both looked up at her. "I got an emergency. Hold the fort!"

With that, she took to the air, rushing out through Oripat's doors, a bit unsteady on wings that had taken a recent battering.

---

Week Six, Day Four - Vees Tower, morning:

"I am so terribly sorry," the receptionist at Vees Tower told her. His name tag said: Darren. "But Vox cannot be disturbed right now. And Velvette is unavailable."

Darren was possibly the most milquetoast demon she had ever encountered. The sort of man who spent serious thought on how to be even less obtrusive. Who probably had a nice collection of completely average rocks, assorted by size and coloration.

"Well, that is my fault for not having an appointment," Rosie said, giving him a gentle smile. "But could you be a dear and at least tell me if they are in the building? I'm willing to wait, but my time is valuable."

Darren was willing to be a dear. Alastor would simply have devoured the poor boy. "Um... Vox is, but I'm afraid Velvette has left the tower.

Rosie didn't bother to hide her frown. That would not do at all. Once she dealt with one of the Vees, the other would become frighteningly more dangerous. She needed to be able to handle them in swift succession, before the second could even begin to tap their new power.

"Did you, um, want me to try to pass them a message?" Darren offered meekly. His anxiety told her that he would rather avoid the bosses' notice, but he felt obligated to offer.

"Thank you so much. But that won't be necessary," Rosie said in her sweetest tone, getting a look of relief from the man. "You've been a wonderful soul, Darren. I'll be back later."

As she walked away, her hand strayed to her purse. Thanks to the special trinket inside, Rosie was confident that she could manage one of the Vees even without the loan from Alastor. But the other worried her. Unfortunately, there had simply not been enough left of Izzi for two.

---

Week Six, Day Four - Heaven Embassy, Heaven, morning:

Sir Pentious stared at the holographic text floating in the air before him.

Access denied. Please contact Vox for technical assistance at .

The serpent angel's fingers played over the keyboard while speaking into his headset. Vox had locked him out of the Heavenly Projector. His first instinct was to simply disable it. The floating text announced that he had been locked out of Heaven's power grid. Vox wasn't going to let him simply turn it off. At least, not from here.

"I don't know how he is doing this, Cherri, but I believe he is using the Voxtek drones as a conduit. If I can't shut down the power, we need to take out the drones. Swiftly, before he can react to what we are doing." Sir Pentious said as he slithered quickly to the junction box and started pulling cables, attempting to physically cut the power to the device.

He looked back over his shoulder. All the lights on the console remained on.

Not good. Vox had anticipated this and rerouted power to the projector from somewhere else wirelessly. It would take at least fifteen minutes to open up the machine and pull the wireless power receiver. Sir Pentious had intentionally made that difficult as a security precaution.

"I can't," he told Cherri Bomb. "Can you take out the drones outside? There are six of them. The Sundials have their locations; I'm sending them to you now." He rushed back to the keyboard. "I'll take out the ones..." The call dropped. "...inside."

They were all over the building. There was no way Cherri Bomb could navigate the Courthouse and take them all down in time. But he had another idea. He hoped.

Maybe there was a backdoor into the Heavenly Projector through Heaven's cellular phone service itself.

The Heavenly Prayer Network is currently down for maintenance. Please contact Vox for technical assistance at .

I'm not a hacker; I'm an inventor!

The activity monitoring screen for the Heavenly Projector flashed for attention.

---

Week Six, Day Four - Pentagram City Center, morning:

Niffty skipped alongside Vanexa. The vixen was holding their bags filled with deals hunted and slain in a successful morning of shopping.

"Oooh, Cafe Magne!" Niffty prompted. "You should try the matcha affogato!"

Vanexa nodded, a smile on her muzzle. That sounded... actually, she had no idea what that was. But if Niffty recommended it, she was sure it would be an experience.

The two women turned towards the cafe. They stopped to stare as a ray of Heavenly light pierced down through the pentagram from Heaven above, illuminating the Heaven Embassy.

---

Week Six, Day Four - Heaven Embassy, Heaven, morning:

Sir Pentious typed quickly. Vox had shut down communication Heavenside, but the Interrealm communications were still up. Vox couldn't shut that down without losing connection to his drones. Sir Pentious tried rebooting the Interrealm system.

Admin Access Required. For assistance, contact Vox at...

Dammit!

Okay, he still had access to the Interrealm. But Vox had locked him out of everything Heavenside.

A few keystrokes revealed a shred of hope. Vox had not locked him out of anything Hellside. He could use the Heavenly Projector system in the Heaven Embassy in Hell to project into Heaven.

He just needed to find the right program within the mess archived from the centuries of Adam.

---

Week Six, Day Four - Alastor's Radio Tower, morning:

Through the panoramic window, the Heavenly spotlight could be seen bathing the Embassy. It would seem their little Emily was up to something. He would have to look into that after he finished his broadcast.

The Radio Demon was chuckling. "I have received a very special request," he announced, leaning back and kicking up his feet as he spoke into his microphone. "This... we'll call it a song... is named Na Na Na. Listeners with delicate sensibilities or good taste in music may wish to tune out for the next three and a half minutes."

The Heavenly spotlight suddenly shifted. It swept over the city like a searchlight before affixing on the Hazbin Hotel.

Alastor held up a hand to shield himself from the glare.

From the overhead speaker, the song began. "Killjoy's, make some noise!..."

---

Week Six, Day Four - Promenade, Heaven, morning:

"Penty!?" Cherri Bomb shouted as the call dropped. She brought her phone before her eye, her flight wobbling a little as she read her phone while flying.

The Heavenly Prayer Network is currently down for maintenance. Please contact Vox for technical assistance at .

Cherri Bomb's mind flashed to her serpent angel's rants about Heaven's shitass security. He was underselling it. A single mid-tier Overlord was shutting down Heaven!

Cherri Bomb's wing clipped the corner of a building, sending her into a spiral. Her Heaven-tech phone fell ten meters to the golden street below as Cherri Bomb fought to right herself before she face-planted into the promenade.

The cyclopean angel skimmed the smooth gold surface for just a moment as she pulled up from her dive, the beaten muscles of her wings screaming. She drew to a stop, hovering, her wings beating tiredly, her breasts heaving from exertion.

There were a lot of angels in the promenade.

Cherri Bomb reached for her phone, but it wasn't there. She had a solid idea where all of Vox's drones were. The Sundials monitoring them were points of gold over streets of gold.

"Bugger."

Small, red bombs fell into her right hand from the Other. She lit their fuses with her left as she spotted the first two Voxtek drones hovering over the outside extension of the Heavenly Projector that the happy throuple had used to become giant women. There were angels in the way, and she didn't have time to clear them.

This was going to suck. But none of her bombs had angelic steel. They'd be fine. Shifting a bomb into each hand, Cherri Bomb aimed and threw.

---

Week Six, Day Four - Heaven Embassy, Heaven, morning:

The eye on Sir Pentious' hat stared at the Heavenly Projector's activity screen in alarm. What he was trying was taking too long. He was now out of time.

His gaze lifted to the holographic denial. Maybe he should actually try that. A proverbial Hail Mary.

Sir Pentious tried contacting Vox at . The holographic text was immediately replaced with the image of Vox's flatscreen face.

"Sir Pentious!" Vox smoozed, clearly in a good mood. "How unexpected. You look troubled. Is everything all right up there?"

"Ssssir Vox!" he replied civilly. "Thank you for taking my call."

Vox smirked, "And what can I do for you this glorious morning?"

Sir Pentious smiled back, the eye of his hat watching what he was typing as he sorted Adam's old programs and filtered for what he needed.

"I'm trying to thwart your evil plot," Sir Pentious answered, standing upright and smiling back at Vox, lifting a hand to his chest, his hat beaming proudly.

Then he deflated a bit. "But you seem to be besting me. I could really use some more time." With a hopeful look, he offered, "I don't sssuppose you'd be willing to monologue?"

The television Overlord's veneer of geniality died abruptly. "Are you serious?" Vox asked, astounded.

The filter refined his search to three potential programs: DickmasterRocks, DickmastersHarem and AllTheBitchesKnowImAwesome. Sir Pentious didn't have time to die inside. That was just stupid. He'd have to check each one.

Still smiling at Vox, Sir Pentious put his hands together, tilting his head. "Perhapsss a musical number?"

"Your incompetence is overwhelming," Vox told him. "I have to thank you for making this so easy. You've finally been useful for something."

Sir Pentious checked DickmastersHarem first. And struck gold.

Vox's attention was jerked away. His flatscreen projected anger as the first drones outside were destroyed. "What the fuck!? What is she doing?!"

"Winning," Sir Pentious told him as he activated the Heavenly Projector in the Heaven Embassy below. "It'ssss what we do. We're Winners."

Throughout the Courthouse, golden Exorcists - Adam's backup dancers - appeared next to each of the Voxtek drones. Angels gasped, dropping items, backing or flying away from the solid light incarnations of Heaven's sins.

With the flip of a switch, Sir Pentious set the holograms to interactive, as Adam had once done in order to grab Charlie by the wrist. Only his Heavenly Projector was a lot more powerful than Adam's had been.

Sir Pentious directed the golden Exorcists to draw their swords. And with a dramatic slashing motion of his hand, he commanded them to slay the interior drones.

---

Week Six, Day Four - Vees Tower, morning:

"NO! NO! NO!"

Vox shouted, electricity arcing across the frame of his screen, as the last two drone feeds were obliterated. Along with the drones themselves, blown apart by the same fucking one-eyed bitch who bombed his facilities two months ago.

Now an angel. Because Heaven really was just that fucking fucked.

Vox's face was replaced with a singularly damning message: Connection lost.

A month of planning, information gathering, analysis. All up in fucking smoke. I only needed a few more seconds!

Alastor probably didn't even notice. That red fuck was going to be insufferable now.

---

Week Six, Day Four - Promenade, Heaven, morning:

Cherri Bomb held up her retrieved phone. It wasn't even cracked. Heaven's technology was amazing. The screen flashed. The Heavenly Prayer Network was back. And Sir Pentious was calling.

The cyclopean angel lifted the phone to her ear, staring down at the smoke rising from the promenade as her serpent angel gave her the good news.

The scattered debris. The scattered bystanders.

"THANK FUCK!" Cherri Bomb felt a wash of relief. Followed by apprehension."I'll see as soon as I can." She told him as she turned slowly.

Below, angels were helping each other to their feet. More were rising into the air, surrounding her.

"I have some explaining to do. And some apologies to make."

---

Week Six, Day Four - Violent Valley Farmers Market, Wrath, late morning:

The orange sky over Wrath was scattered sparsely with clouds that were slowly shrinking. Noon was stalking closer, a rising heat preceding it. Many of the imps perusing the stalls of the farmers market were wearing hats with wide brims that offered personal shade.

Vaggie contemplated asking Charlie if they could buy hats. But they wouldn't be here that long.

On the drive here, the throuple had settled on Lust as their next Ring. If Asmodeus would help them get set up someplace nice. For a definition of nice that Vaggie could agree with. Someplace where a blacklight wouldn't turn the hotel room into a Jackson Pollock painting.

They had also caught up on the small storm of texts they had gotten from Angel Dust and Husk. Nobody wanted to interrupt them while they were busy enjoying their honeymoon. But they wanted to keep the three of them informed. Even Crymini had sent a text:

Hey, don't want 2 interrupt the fucking, but a friend is staying at the hotel a few days. Just escaping some dank while I work my shit out. JLYK.

Yesterday had been a quiet day of recovery for the people back at the hotel, but the day before had been as eventful for everyone else as it had been for Vaggie and her wives.

Vaggie still couldn't believe Lute, Sera and Razzle pulled off a spider rescue in Greed!

Vaggie turned her contemplation back to the jicama. Nostalgia struck her. A wisp of a memory torn from her when she lost her name. "I'm pretty sure I loved these as a child," she whispered to herself, moving to the zucchini.

Emily's halo popped up on the opposite side of the zucchini bin, followed by her smiling face. "Guess what!" she announced cheerfully. "I'm the High Seraphim!"

"Yes you are," Vaggie replied, smiling back. "And what does that mean to you this morning?"

"It means that I am the authority over what Heaven is," Emily said, swimming in the refreshing waters of epiphany. "Heaven doesn't have to be what the Elders Above think of it as. They literally gave up Their authority over Heaven when they appointed Sera to manage it while they flitted about the Throne being... Elders Above and nothing else."

Vaggie turned away from the vegetables to give Emily her full attention. Charlie was looking their way from the corn stall, having been keeping an ear on her wives. Vaggie motioned her over.

"Alastor said the only Good in Heaven is because we choose to be Good," Emily said, picking up two jicamas and comparing them. "Well, that just means Heaven is a wonderful place of Good because we made it so!" she said as she chose the better of the two and added it to their cart.

Emily tossed the less desirable vegetable back in its crate as Charlie joined them. "The angels who live there. We do choose to be good! It is a place full of people who want to be good and who will continue to make it better."

"And sure, sometimes we screw up," Emily admitted with a frown. "Sometimes we screw up really badly." Charlie wrapped an arm around her.

"But we don't give up. We won't stop trying to make things better."

"That's right," Charlie told her.

Vaggie nodded. "And we're doing the same down here now too. With the Hazbin Hotel and the new Heaven Embassy." Belatedly she realized that she had associated herself with Heaven and its angels, non-judgmentally, for the first time in years.

"So it doesn't matter Who or what They are," Emily continued insistently. "They contributed nothing. They're... absentee parents trying to tell us what home is! And that's... that's..."

Emily blinked cutely as her sermon evaporated like clouds over noonday Wrath. "We don't even have a good word in Heaven for what that is. But we don't have to judge ourselves by it!"

She turned at the sound of a belching motor and watched a delivery truck pull up. "And yes, we have advantages. But the biggest advantage we have is in our hearts. We practice the Virtues we believe in." Harkening back to her first song with Charlie, she added, "It's not just pretension!"

Vaggie watched as their seraphim wife slipped from Charlie's arm and flitted upwards, flying a happy lap around the vegetables, singing. "Our hearts. Our choices. Our Heaven."

---

Week Six, Day Four - Baxter's Laboratory, morning?:

Baxter checked the intake again. He read the gauges by the light of his lure. His scales and fins reflected the rising light of the Jacob's ladder behind him. That device was largely aesthetic, the remnant of a test on the power of symbology within a Deep laboratory that he decided he liked too much to get rid of. The giant tubes of glowing liquid, conversely, were not aesthetic.

Razzle floated serenely in one of those tubes, bathed in nutrients, breathing into an oxygen mask. Tubes ran to needles embedded in his veins, feeding him a slow, steady infusion of hormones and chemicals that were stimulating his development. Baxter turned his eyes up to watch him, Razzle's body reflected in his thick glasses.

Such a good boy.

Behind the anglerfish scientist lay his other project, the parts of the prototype laid out in a grid across the table. Carmilla's deterrent. A weapon never intended to be used. Mrs. Carmine believed the threat of it alone would be sufficient to keep Overlords in check.

Because that has ever truly worked.

Still, if Alastor was right and these were the last projects he would be able to work on, he would see them to fruition.

---

Week Six, Day Four - Sleepy Candles, Sloth, late morning:

Sleepy Candles was cozy even by Sloth's standards. The bean bag chairs in the lobby called to her. It would be too easy to sink into one and drift back into hibernation. The back wall was adorned with a delightful image of little candleheads snoozing peacefully in a ring around her.

It was a flattering depiction. And the children tugged at her heart.

Sera approached the receptionist. A youthful man, green of fur and with a lively emerald flame.

Sera had shed her beautiful human form for her glorious feathered one. In the days Bephegor had slept, Sera had discovered her appearance opened doors that were normally closed to those who looked like angels.

"Welcome to Sleepy Candles, ma'am," the receptionist greeted. His gaze dropped from Sera to the floor, looking about but finding no one. His eyes rose back to Sera's face. "Is there a child you wish to surrender to our care? We have nurtured Goetia."

"I am here to see one of your live-in caretakers," Sera told him. "A spider woman?"

"Miss Emma?" the receptionist asked, showing first surprise then suspicion. "Other than the children, Miss Emma doesn't accept visitors. Did you have an arrangement?"

Belphegor stepped up next to Sera, smiling at the young man. She turned and looked lazily at the wall-sized picture of herself.

The receptionist's flame danced, his eyes widening. He stood up straighter. "Belphegor!" He looked between her and the bird woman, and nodded. "Of course you may visit. Let me make sure Miss Emma is awake."

The green candlehead demon stepped away. As soon as he was gone, Belphegor slumped against Sera, overtaken by a wave of fatigue. So much activity.

"Bel?" Sera asked worriedly as she wrapped a wing around her. Belphegor hated to worry her. But she was not yet recovered from the incident after the Royal Wedding.

"Oh hush," Bel cooed. "I gather you were feeling unwell yourself yesterday. It was nice of the boy to visit." Razzle had still been there with Sera this morning when Belphegor had woken up midway through the witching hour.

Sera nodded with a prim smile. Her left hand moved to rub at the sleeve over her right wrist. When she felt more awake, they would talk about that. Belphegor was ready to support the woman's decision. For now, she just let Sera lend the strength needed to stand.

The receptionist returned. "Miss Emma is honored by your visit. She is with some of the children right now. If that is not a problem..."

"It is not," Sera assured him. She wrapped an arm around Belphegor as well as a wing and helped her follow the young man deeper into the child care facility until they reached one of the playrooms.

Most of the children were napping, and the rest played subdued games. Most were candleheads, common to Sloth. But there were a few others. Including an actual Goetia child playing with her pet hellhound whose yapping was the singular source of noise.

Moving silently among them was a spider demon, her humanoid torso rising from her malmignatte lower body. The pattern of red spots on her arachnid abdomen continued up her stomach. She had woven a web between the sleeping children to catch any bad dreams.

"Miss Emma," Sera greeted as the arachne turned towards them. "My name is Sera. I have come to speak to you on behalf of your children."

Miss Emma looked at the children about her. "They are fine. I take care of them."

"Your other children," Sera said.

"Oh!" Miss Emma said, her eight eyes widening then closing. "My Johnny is such a good boy."

Sera raised her eyebrows then looked away, muttering to herself, "Reminds me of my Adam."

Belphegor gave her a comforting smile. If anyone understood embracing dreams over reality, it was Sera. And who couldn't forgive that? The Sin turned to the spider demon. "We are here about Anthony and Molly. They would very much like to meet you."

Miss Emma gasped in delight. "Tony? Molly? They're alive? I feared the angels had killed them. Are they here? Please, I would love to meet them. It's been so long!"

Belphegor looked up at Sera. She knew that stung, but the fallen seraphim only frowned slightly. "They are not here. Anthony cannot come to Sloth." Sera offered, "Would you be willing to come back to Pride?"

Miss Emma scowled. "No! The angels will kill me!" Her eyes widened in realization. "I need to get my children out of Pride! I'll talk to Johnny. He'll take care of them."

The little children who were not asleep began to look alarmed. The one playing with the hellhound asked meekly, "Angels are coming?"

Sera was quick to respond. "No, child. Angels pose no threat to any of you. Angels don't hurt anyone in Hell anymore. I've made that stop."

Miss Emma stared at her. "How?"

---

Week Six, Day Four - Violent Valley Farmers Market, Wrath, late morning:

The selection of fresh fruits was surprising, even for a farmers market. Vaggie should have expected this level of variety. But somehow, she had always associated fruit with the more tropical Gluttony.

Vaggie eyed the passion fruit and had the urge to say something worthy of Angel Dust. She looked to her wives, silently asking if they wanted to pick some up. Emily quickly nodded.

Charlie had stopped. She was staring at a mango, looking pensive.

Emily noticed at the same time. Her face fell. "Oh! Charlie, I'm sorry if that brought up unpleasant feelings. I know dad hasn't always been there. But he is now. He's even taking medicine."

What? It took Vaggie a moment to figure out Emily's worry. She facepalmed when she did.

They're absentee parents trying to tell us what home is! We don't even have a good word in Heaven for what that is.

Charlie looked likewise startled, but quickly understood. "It's okay, Emily. Thank you." Charlie smiled. "I did have words for that. But I've forgotten them."

Emily cheered up just as quickly as she worried.

"I was actually thinking about supply lines," Charlie said, surprising both of them.

Vaggie watched as Charlie put the mango in their cart and looked around at all the imps. The ones running the stalls. The ones buying produce and meats. Vaggie scanned the market.

"Most of the food in Hell comes from Wrath," Charlie noted. "A lot of Famine's plans depend on her operations here."

Vaggie's eye fell on the delivery truck. The company logo was Wild Horses. "Are... we thinking about revenge?" she asked cautiously.

Charlie looked shocked. "No!" She quickly shook her head. "I mean, part of me wants to get back at Helsa. But that's the part of me that I broke up with Seviathan to get away from."

Vaggie winced a little. Charlie was firm. "I can't help people who come to the Hazbin Hotel be better people if I backslide. I need to be better myself."

"Soooo," the younger seraphim prompted, "What were you thinking about?"

Charlie grinned. "I'm thinking about how we win."

Vaggie's eyebrow rose. She teased, "Sounding a little Conquest there, sweetie." She earned the look Charlie gave her.

Vaggie spotted the delivery driver. The imp was looking their way. And started moving.

"Hold that thought. I'll be right back."

The delivery driver wove his way through the back of the market to the delivery lot. He pulled open the driver's side door and climbed into the seat, fumbling a moment with the key before sliding the right one into the ignition.

The passenger side door opened and Vaggie climbed in, spear in hand.

The imp turned in shock, then cringed back from the sharp point of angelic steel, pressing himself against his door. He reached for the handle, only to cuss as he realized his back was pressing into it.

"L-look, lady, take whatever you want!" He leaned forward a little and wrenched out the key out of the ignition, offering it to her. "Take the whole truck even!"

The imp's tail grasped the door handle. Vaggie pricked his right cheek with the tip of her spear.

"Don't!" she warned. "I'm not here to rob you. I just want to see you bleed a little."

And if there are bugs in it, we're going to have a very pointed conversation.

---

Week Six, Day Four - Streets of Pentagram City, late morning:

"Via, are you... running away?" Stolas asked, speaking into his phone while the city rolled by outside the tinted window.

"No, dad. I'm not running away!" Octavia's voice sounded offended at the question. "I'm just staying at a hotel with a friend."

"Oh." Well that was... that was a surprise. Well, she was nearly eighteen. Stolas felt a pang. He really hadn't been paying her attention, had he? "I thought you were asexual."

"Dad!"

The exasperation in Via's voice was loud enough that Seviathan heard her. The von Eldritch son was looking at him with a sort of condescending sympathy. He must have made a faux pas.

Not that kind of hotel stay then. Stolas closed his eyes. "I understand if you need space right now, but there's something we need to discuss. In person."

"Look, dad, I know..." Octavia's voice was interrupted by a barking sound. "Hold on."

There was a soft clack which Stolas interpreted as his daughter setting down her phone. What followed was a distressed hoot and a cry of "By Lucifer, don't just hand it to me! Wash it first!"

A second later, Octavia returned to the phone. "I've got to go dad. I... have to take care of something. Just... come to the Hazbin Hotel tonight, okay? We'll talk about whatever then."

"Oh! That hotel!" Stolas said as the hotel's name registered. "I'll be there. I love you, Via." But those last words were said to dead air. His daughter had already hung up the call.

Stolas sighed, looking across the limo at the von Eldritch boy who was sitting on the opposite tongue. "I suppose you're going to tell me that I'm not very good at parenting either."

"Compared to my father, you are a role model," Seviathan said.

"What about your mother?" Stolas asked.

Seviathan stared at him for a long, quiet moment before answering. "When we were kids, once a week our mother would make us fight each other for who would get dinner."

"Oh dear Lucifer. That's horrible!"

Seviathan shrugged. "It did motivate me to study marksmanship, sword fighting and poisons."

Well, that is something, I guess. It didn't make the story any less horrid. At least Stella had been merely disinterested, aside from brief flares of motherliness. Granted, he had himself been raised by the palace staff. So he really didn't have a model for a good mother even outside of an abomination family.

Something registered. "Poisons?" Stolas felt a touch of enthusiasm. "Plants and plant-based poisons are a specialty of mine. Please do tell, which are your favorites?"

"Depends on what I want it for," Seviathan said casually. "Are we talking to debilitate, to kill, or more something to take the edge off after a long day? Keep in mind that abominations have very different tolerances than demons. I use nettlewire from Gluttony as a spice."

Stolas blinked in shock. "Please do not cook for Via!" Lowering his voice, he added, "I hope everything is well labeled!"

Then, unable to contain his curiosity, he leaned forward and asked, "How does it taste?"

The ride continued. The strange limo was entirely too humid and was making his feathers frizzy. But the conversation had become engaging. To Stolas' delight, Seviathan knew a respectable amount about poisons. And the abomination perspective was fascinating.

Eventually, they neared their destination. "Turn here," Stolas instructed. "I must say, this is by far the most... unusual vehicle I have ridden in."

"I persuaded my sister to let me have it for the day." Seviathan looked out the window at the mid-upscale property. "You really think this Sinner you want me to meet can help? How?"

"I don't know," Stolas admitted. "But he is very Deeply connected. He has helped me acquire some very precious and difficult items in the past. And he is, quite simply, the most ruthless and evil man I've ever met." Normally, he would not speak of those attributes as a compliment. "Without a shred of morals or mercy. If anyone can help us, it's Samuel."

"You sure talk him up. Color me intrigued," Seviathan said. "What kind of vile monster is he?"

"A divorce lawyer."

"Ah, so the most evil woman you've ever met would be..."

"Stella. My ex," Stolas said flatly. Then reconsidered. "Although perhaps not. Does a crusted pile of bird droppings technically have a gender?"

Seviathan laughed.

---

Week Six, Day Four - Elevator 666, Wrath, noon:

"If this place connects all seven Rings, shouldn't it be called the Hellevator?" Emily asked, turning to take in the surprisingly luxurious trans-Ring elevator station. The station was shockingly clean for Hell and boasted enough gold plating to be mistaken for a place in Heaven.

Vaggie turned to Charlie. "Yes, why isn't it called the Hellevator?" Before Charlie could decide if she was being teased, they were interrupted by a descending orb of light. It stopped before Emily, the center clearing to reveal the image of Pravuil.

"High Seraphim, I regret to inform you that there has been a demonic attack against Heaven." Pravuil stated calmly, his voice reverberating from within his spinning rings of eyes. "I have been informed that the immediate threat has been neutralized. I will update your office as facts are verified."

"WHAT!?" the trio shouted in unison. Emily's halo flashed in reaction to her distress, causing her wives' eyes to briefly lock on it with expressions of worry.

A sultry voice announced through the platform: "Elevator 666 departing for Lust... in ten minutes." The last three words were moaned.

"I regret to inform you that there has been a demonic attack against Heaven," Pravuil repeated with equal calm. "Sir Pentious and Cherri Bomb are being brought before the Court of Heaven. The Hearing is due to begin in fifteen minutes."

Emily took a breath, closed her eyes, and counted backwards from seven. With each descending number, she swept away more of her thoughts, finding calm. It was a technique that Sera had taught her during their long talk at the Fair Trade Cafe.

"Thank you, Pravuil," Emily said, her words even and steady. "Please inform Zenas that I will be taking my old seat for the Hearing."

"Please clarify," Pravuil requested. "Do you refer to the First or Second Chair, High Seraphim?"

"Second Chair," Emily clarified. Like back when Sera was High Seraphim. The First Judge's chair was hers as the High Seraphim of Heaven, but she wouldn't be taking it.

She looked to Charlie and Vaggie, who were staring with severe alarm. It was primarily for her wives' benefit that she added, "I don't know what's going on yet. But if it is about them, I'm too biased to be First Judge."

But I am absolutely going to offer guidance!

Emily reached out, twirling a finger to open a golden portal, shedding her form for that of her full seraphim self. The sight of a portal into Heaven caused a commotion in the elevator waiting platform, but her focus was her wives. "Please join me."

Charlie nodded resolutely, stepping through the portal and into Heaven.

"You couldn't keep us away," Vaggie added with a grim smile as she followed. Vaggie turned to look at her, hemming, "Well, you could, but..." She stopped and settled on, "Thank you, love."

Emily stepped into Heaven after them, closing the portal behind her.

---

Week Six, Day Four - Samuel's Residence, noon:

There has to be something I've missed!

Ruth looked around the upper study she had torn quite thoroughly apart. But there was nothing here. Nothing new that would lead to the Tear. She'd managed to wrench that he'd sold it to some Goetia bird before she sent him screaming into the Deep. But that just narrowed it down to most of the fucking Goetia.

Fuck, I need a hit.

The succubus collapsed onto a chair whose cushions she had torn open. Samuel had hidden all sorts of shit in weird parts of his house. She had recovered three of the other profane heirlooms he had stolen, one of which had been in the hollow tube of one of the standing lamps.

Samuel had been such a motherfucker. Why did she ever think she could trust him?

Ruth pulled out a needle. Rolled up her left sleeve. She hesitated, staring at the tracks on her arm, left by the fuckers who addicted her to this shit, then tried to kill her with it.

The succubus heard the front door open on the floor below her. She tensed waiting.

Voices. Fuck! Probably not a hallucination. Flee? Or confront? She wasn't done here.

Ruth put the needle away and tugged back down her sleeve. She put on her winning face, shedding every appearance of frustration and distress. She slipped out of the room and started down the stairs.

"This... does not bode well." The voice was that of a tall, lanky Goetia owl with a posh inflection. His companion... was one of the von Eldritches. Samuel's class of clientele had moved up.

"No, it most certainly does not," Seviathan agreed. "I am inclined to think your evil bastard isn't in a condition to be much help." The two men turned as Ruth descended the steps.

"You sound like you are looking for Samuel too," Ruth said with a tone of pleasant caution as she paused on the third step, shifting her weight to one hip in a pose designed to seem casual and unintentionally provocative. "And for a less malevolent reason than whoever did..." She waved about the desecrated home. "...all of this."

The succubus could immediately tell that the Goetia was gay and disinterested to the edge of being oblivious. More than that, his heart and his loins were very much fixated on someone else. Seviathan von Eldritch was none of those things. But not enough to lower his guard.

"There's no sign of him," Ruth told them. "Whoever did this either took him, or he escaped."

"Oh," the Goetia blinked. "Yes. I do hope Samuel is all right." There was only a ghost of genuine concern. The man was worried about Samuel not for the lawyer's sake but for his own. Ruth had a suspicion.

Seviathan frowned, looking around at the damage. "There's no sign of a struggle either," he stated. "This place has been ransacked, not fought in." He turned to her, looking her up and down. His eyes lingered at choice places. "And who are you to the dearly... missing?"

"Ruth," the succubus said with a slightly flirtatious smile. "Samuel was a client of mine. Hopefully still is." She turned her attention to the Goetia. "You're the one Samuel sold the Tear to, aren't you?" She adjusted her tone to convey hope and concern. "If I could borrow that, I can track him with it. I'd really like to be sure he's okay."

"I am," the Goetia confirmed. "But I'm afraid I cannot. I no longer have it. It was a gift."

"Could you... ask for it back?"

"Certainly not!" The Goetia shook his head, appalled by the suggestion. She had misstepped.

"I already put that poor girl through so much with the divorce," the man overshared. "I want her to know she can trust me. I'm not going to offer a gift only to snatch it back."

So he wasn't entirely immune to her charms. They weren't all sexual. "Even temporarily?"

The von Eldritch boy scowled. He stepped in, warning the man, "Stella would never forgive you for taking back your peace offering."

"What?" the owl blinked. He looked briefly worried before blowing that off. "Well, to be fair, we are divorced. If she wanted to keep something precious from me, she should have kept the ring." He refocused on her. "Still, my answer is no."

---

Week Six, Day Four - Courthouse, Heaven, noon:

Charlie sat in the Court of Heaven for the second time. This time in one of the chairs that had been lined up along the back wall of the courtroom. They hadn't been there before. Her Hearing had been closed to the public. Charlie chose not to reflect on why Sera made that decision.

Sir Pentious sat in the seat Charlie had once sat in. Cherri Bomb sat next to him. Sir Pentious looked anxious. Cherri Bomb looked cross.

Zenas, the Court Angel to whom her wife had delegated the position she once saw Sera rule from, stood and addressed everyone in the room:

"Angels of the Court. An hour ago, the Hell-ascended angels, Sir Pentious and Cherri Bomb, created a violent disruption. Their actions included projecting combat-enabled Exorcist holograms throughout the Courthouse and throwing explosives into the noonday crowd in the promenade. These actions have been claimed necessary to thwart..." He paused, looking down at a golden scroll. "...a demonic attack?"

The claims seemed insane! But neither Sir Pentious nor Cherry Bomb were protesting. Instead, Sir Pentious seemed ready to embrace them and give exculpatory testimony.

"A demonic attack?" Vaggie whispered to her. "How did demons even get up here?"

The Court Angels began to murmur among themselves. Zenas called for order. "Sir Pentious, please explain."

Sir Pentious stood. "Angels of the Court," he said. "First, allow me to state that I called Cherri Bomb for assssistance. Her actions were at my direction."

"Excuse me," interrupted the Court Angel who sat in the seat formerly occupied by Adam, "You ordered her to throw bombs into the promenade?"

"Yessss," Sir Pentious said, shocking Charlie.

Cherri Bomb protested. "Nobody orders me to do anything. That was the fastest way to take out the drones! Nobody was actually hurt."

"Wait, what?" Charlie said, standing up. "The fucking Voxtek drones attacked?"

"Charlie, please sit down," Vaggie urged.

"Clearly you were," Sir Pentious countered, drawing attention to Cherri Bomb's golden eye and battered appearance.

Cherri Bomb looked away. "Look, I was rushing to get there and... I flew into a wall. No big deal."

"You... flew into a wall?" Sir Pentious said, the entire Hearing clearly forgotten.

"Wings are weird, okay?" Cherri Bomb insisted.

Emily flew out of her seat. How often did she do that in Court? She flitted over to the two angelic lovers. "It's okay. It could happen to anyone. I've had accidents too. Sera's still hitting her head on things in Sloth." She gave Cherri Bomb a smile of assurance, then turned to Sir Pentious.

"How did the drones attack Heaven?" she gasped. "We made sure they weren't a threat!"

Back on track, Sir Pentious told Emily, "It would be easier to show you than to explain it." He turned to Zenas. "If it pleasesss the Court of Heaven, I offer my record from the Golden Library."

Charlie sat back down as Emily flew back to her seat. Zenas conferred with Emily in whispers. Charlie felt a swell of gratitude to see Emily nodding fervently. Her love would make sure this was a far fairer Court than Charlie herself had experienced.

Zenas turned back to Sir Pentious. "Thank you, Sir Pentious. The Court will allow it." Charlie was reminded that unless they voted unanimously, the other Court Angels were largely superfluous. The only one who seemed to have any input was the one in Adam's place. A role that seemed designed to be contentious.

Emily called out, "Pravuil, the offered record, please."

Charlie jolted in her chair as another angel was standing next to her. One of the angels with a head made of spinning rings. She'd seen a few in the Court before, and of course there was the one illustrated in The Story of Hell. He didn't arrive. He had been there from the beginning and she was only now permitted to notice.

The angel, Pravuil, lifted a hand and summoned a viewing orb, just as Adam had once before. Only this one was focused on Sir Pentious.

Alastor's ploy came back to her. Everything they do is recorded in the Golden Library for all to witness. Everything they see. Everything they hear.

Vaggie reached out and took her hand, squeezing it.

Together, they watched - Charlie with an escalating mixture of horror and pride - as Vox took over the Heavenly Projector, nearly destroying the Hazbin Hotel and everyone inside... only for Sir Pentious and Cherri Bomb to stop him and save the day.

---

Week Six, Day Four - Hazbin Hotel, early afternoon:

Husk checked the clock. Everything was quieter than normal. Almost eerily so in the lack of aftermath from the hotel not being destroyed by a laser from Heaven.

Niffty was out with Vanexa still. Angel Dust was asleep. Charlie and her angels were on their honeymoon. His ears perked at the sound of voices.

"Crym, you have some of the coolest friends!" Octavia said, gushing a little as she started down the grand stairs. The teen owl was wearing an intricate gothic dress of black and shimmering amethyst with a star, candle and skull motif, the last being rodent-like.

"Wow. That's..." Husk failed at words. "Impressive. Where did you find that?"

A small crowd of women followed the girl. "I said the magic words," Lute told him. "Specifically: Velvette, someone in the hotel is wearing the same clothes twice."

Crymini practically danced around the girl. "You look..."

"Vicious?" Octavia teased.

Crymini stuck out her tongue. "Alpha!" Then turned to Velvette. "That isn't going to turn into a dishrag at midnight or something, right?"

Velvette gave her a withering look. "She's not Cinderella. And I'm not a fairy godmother."

Crymini turned back to the girl, teasing back, "I know a necklace that would look great with that."

"Not until I wash it about five billion times!" she snapped crossly. Then smiled and with a softer tone agreed, "Yes, it would. Will someday."

Husk's phone chimed. He looked at it. Sera calling. Husk picked it up. "Sera?" He listened. "You did? You found her? Yeah, I can wake Angel Dust. And portal in Molly." This was worth dipping back into the seraphim powers. "And yes, I can open a portal for you to bring her here."

"Okay, I'm heading back before Vox figures out I'm at this hotel and completely loses his fucking signal," Velvette said. She blew a kiss to their fallen angel. "See you tonight, Lute?"

Husk raised an eyebrow. Lute and Velvette? I did not see that coming.

---

Week Six, Day Four - Courthouse, Heaven, early afternoon:

Cherri Bomb watched as the high judge of Heaven's Court stood to make his ruling. Next to him, Emily was looking down at her and Sir Pentious. She gave them an encouraging smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Cherri Bomb's eye widened as E's halo flickered ever so slightly.

Zenas proclaimed to the Court, "In accordance with the High Seraphim's Proclamations of Transparency, the general public of Heaven will be informed about what has happened today."

"And the truth is alarming. A demon in Hell possessed of heretofore unimagined capabilities seized control of part of Heaven and attempted to direct an attack by Heaven against the Hazbin Hotel, the Good Work of one of the High Seraphim's wives."

Cherry Bomb could tell Charlie had been ready to fight for them, even without knowing anything about what had happened. But she didn't need to; E had it all handled. They never even called for her memories. Which was good. The real issues here didn't need to get sidetracked by Oripat. Didn't hurt that two other Court Angels had been hit by dropped service and Vox's FuckYouAlastor message.

"Cherri Bomb!" Zenas focused on her. "Thank you for your service to Heaven."

"You are responsible for thwarting this villainous plot. After full review of the facts, the Court of Heaven recognizes the necessity and valor of your actions. You have saved souls in Hell from an attack which would have appeared perpetrated by Heaven. Souls precious to the High Seraphim. Souls with the potential for Redemption.

"Given the urgency to act, we cannot fault the method of action. Although several angels were caused inconvenience and pain, none were truly harmed."

Necessity and valor. Wow. "I'm... not in trouble then?"

Emily's smile gushed at her now. "You are not in trouble."

Zenas turned to the serpent angel beside her. "Sir Pentious!" He rose from his chair beside her when addressed. "Thank you as well for your service to Heaven. However..."

"Your Good Work provided the conduit which allowed this Overlord to subvert Heaven's technology. It is the finding of this Court that your actions to stop the attack were heroic. But they were only necessary because your Good Work was... ill-conceived."

She did not like the sad tinge that had crept into Emily's eyes. Pentious took off his hat, exuding nervousness beside her. Cherri Bomb squinted.

Fuck. They better not be about to do Penty dirty!

"Fear not. You are not in trouble either," Zenas assured him. "However, it is the ruling of this Court that this particular Good Work is to cease immediately, and that you are tasked with reversing what your Work has done to ensure such an attack cannot happen again."

"Cherri Bomb, Sir Pentious: thank you both. Blessings to both of you in your future endeavors. You can both expect to be summoned to Court in the future in relation to the newly opened investigation into the Threat of the Overlords."

"This Hearing is adjourned."

---

Week Six, Day Four - Streets of Pentagram City, early afternoon:

Stolas sat across from him in the von Eldritch limo. "Thanks for jumping in back there."

The man fretted, his hands twisting the brim of the hat he held in his lap. "I cannot believe I almost told that woman about Via. It didn't even occur to me that she might be dangerous."

You caught somebody in a house that had been torn apart, and that didn't strike you as suspicious?

But Sevianthan felt he should give credit where due. "Wouldn't have worked if you hadn't caught on so smoothly," the abomination noted. "You may be bad at this, but you're learning."

Stolas took that. "Thank you." He cocked his head. "What was your assessment of that woman?"

Seviathan leaned back in the tongue. "She's incredibly hot," he said with a smile. "But then, most succubi are." Stolas clearly took that at its horny face value. Which was fair. She had been very fuckable. "And she wore too much clothing."

Before his possible father-in-law could dismiss that as well, he explained, "I suspect her favorite poison is the one she injects into the arms she was hiding under those long sleeves."

That got Stolas' attention. "She was hyper aware of us. And oblivious to herself. There was dust on her outfit and bits of broken glass. So I am willing to bet she was the one trashing the place."

"I'm also betting she is the one Samuel is hiding from," Seviathan suggested, although he was less certain of that. Other possibilities came to mind. She could be a third party after whoever was after Samuel, for example. But regardless, "I'm afraid this avenue for dealing with the marriage is more dangerous than its possible value. We should abandon it."

"I believe you are right," Stolas agreed. "No reason to give that woman more targets. We've already given her Stella. I've a tenth of a mind to warn her." He wasn't going to warn her.

"So, what next?" Stolas asked.

Seviathan sighed. "The Goetia Archives are still an option." The Prince had called his princess about it earlier. Seviathan wasn't privy to the other side of the call, but from this side, it did not bode well. "Otherwise, I have something I need to pursue on my own tonight."

And a decision to make.

"As for you, have you considered trying to get Charlie's intervention?" Seviathan asked.

"Charlie? Lucifer's daughter?" Stolas asked, shocked. "I know her, but only in passing. Yes, I officiated her wedding, but beyond that, our only interaction was my service for her summoning."

Charlie summoned a Goetia and bound him to service? Seviathan's eyes widened as he tried to reconcile that with the Charlie he knew.

"I am hardly in a position to impose my problems on the Princess of Hell," Stolas protested.

Seviathan smirked coldly. "You saved her wedding from a living grenade," he reminded the man. "Charlie will want to repay that favor. You have leverage."

---

Week Six, Day Four - Emily's office, Heaven, early afternoon:

Emily gave Cherri Bomb an extra squeeze before releasing her from the hug. Before Cherri Bomb could catch her breath, Charlie disengaged from Sir Pentious to take Emily's place.

Emily threw her arms around Sir Pentious again. "I'm sooooo sorry! Mr. Pentious, your Good Work...!"

"Was, I must admit, ill-conceived, as stated," the serpent angel inventor agreed, putting his arms around her again. "There are clearly dangers I did not even consider. It is best for now that the attempt to connect Heaven's and Hell's communications be dismantled." He added hopefully, "Maybe someday in the future, we could revisit it?"

Emily stepped back and nodded. "I have ordered an investigation into the power of Overlords."

Charlie broke her hug. Cherri Bomb's eye turned to Vaggie. "We good?"

Vaggie chuckled. "Yeah. I'm not really..." She was cut off as Sir Pentious wrapped her and Cherri Bomb in a hug with his tail. "...Oof. There we go."

The young high seraphim frowned, pacing in the air. "I was angry when Sera tried to justify the Exterminations by saying demons were uprising." Her halo flickered briefly like a fluorescent light beginning to die. "Something I now know was just Adam's lies."

"But in the last three months, there have been two real threats against Heaven! Not by the demons of Hell, but by two individual Sinners: first Victor and now Vox."

Vaggie struggled her way out of the hug. "You're not slimy anymore, but you're still kinda slick," she noted as she slipped free. Vaggie turned to her wives. "Victor I get. He was a false Horseman. But Vox?"

"Look, I'm gonna go now," Cherri Bomb said with an expression that radiated before I'm hugged again.

Emily nodded, flying up to her. "You did right apologizing to the angels you blew up and helping them," she said adamantly and appreciatively. "If anyone gives you any trouble, let me know."

Emily flew back, putting her hands to her heart. "I authorized Mr. Pentious' request to let those drones into Heaven. Ultimately, all of this is my responsibility!"

Cherri Bomb and Sir Pentious nodded, promising to let the High Seraphim know of any issues.

He waited until they had departed before letting himself be seen. His appearance made Princess Morningstar jump again.

"High Seraphim Emily," Pravuil said. "In accordance with your new orders, there is something I am required to show you. Please follow me to the Forbidden Archives."

---

Week Six, Day Four - Courthouse, early afternoon:

Cherri Bomb fumed.

"They're going to do nothing about this?!" She paced angrily. Sir Pentious could see his Cherri was a bomb with a lit fuse.

"Vox fucking attacked Heaven, tried to destroy the Hazbin Hotel. He was going to kill Angie and Crymini! Everyone down there! And Heaven's just going to..." She tossed up angry air quotes. "...do an investigation into Overlords?"

"That'sss not nothing, Cherri, dear."

"Sera would have sent Adam to gut the Vees!" Cherri Bomb growled, her eye glowing, her hands balled into fists.

"Would she?" the serpent angel asked. And if she did, would that have been a good thing?

Cherri Bomb stopped. Her eye narrowed. She was breathing heavily. Then she calmed, looking disappointed more than upset. "I... I need to get some air."

Sir Pentious nodded. He watched her fly out. A little wobbly. She really managed to ding her wing hitting a building. It would take at least a day to heal. He hoped she would go home and get the rest she needed.

He knew Cherri Bomb better than that. The serpent angel pulled out his phone, dialing. He was worried, but if he was right, Cherri Bomb would not take well to him ratting her out to Emily. And if he was wrong, it would cause problems neither Cherri nor Emily deserved.

Plus, the behavior of Emily's halo alarmed him.

"Hello, Misssss Molly?" Sir Pentious said. "I was hoping you could spend some time with Cherri today. She needssss someone to talk to before... well, I fear she may do ssssomething rash."

---

Week Six, Day Four - Elevator 666, afternoon:

"The black denim look is new," Angel Dust noted with a yawn, looking Sera up and down as the small group waited on the platform for Hell's trans-Ring elevator. "I would never have seen that coming. Granted, last time I saw you, you were sporting the Molly look."

Molly punched him in the middle left shoulder. Hard. Angel Dust winced, rubbing it.

Molly asked Sera, "Was it Johnny who burned off your clothing too?" She caught markings partially hidden by Sera's right sleeve and her eyes widened. "Sera, do you have a tattoo?"

"Actually, it was Razzle," Sera replied, getting gasps of surprise from the spider twins. "And yes." The fallen seraphim followed that with, "And no, you may not see it. It will take several sessions before the design is complete."

Molly started to say more, but stopped, instead pulling her phone out from between her breasts.

"Hello?" Molly asked, lifting the phone to her ear. At Angel Dust's look, she whispered, "It's Pentious." A pause, listening. "Something's up with Cherri."

A strange voice called over his. "Ser-a!"

"Razzle! Good afternoon to you," Sera said, giving him a bright smile. "So the treatments worked?" Razzle nodded. "It's wonderful to hear your spoken voice."

"Whoa!" Angel Dust stammered, shocked. "I thought you were staying with the limo. Also, you can talk!? Since when can you talk? How?"

"Bax-ter," Razzle said slowly.

It was like hearing a baby trying to talk. Only the baby had a young adult's vocal chords and vocabulary. So really, nothing like that.

Molly listened a little longer. "Yeah, that does sound troubling," the spider angel said. "I'm kinda tied up right now - not literally, this time - but I'll talk with her as soon as I get back to Heaven."

"In three days, you've saved me and now found our mom," Angel Dust said, looking at Sera as the reality set in. The woman who Cherri Bomb still called Miss Genocide - and fairly so - had probably done more for him than anyone save her little sister. "Thank you doesn't seem enough."

Molly looked apprehensive. "Are you sure she's going to come?" They were waiting because their mother was taking the Elevator with Belphegor. Apparently, mom had refused to travel by angelic portal. Not the most comforting sign for Molly.

Angel Dust wrapped three arms around his sister.

---

Week Six, Day Four - Requisitions, Heaven, afternoon:

Cherri Bomb approached the Court Clerk at the Requisitions desk. She was replaying Jasmine's words in her head:

We got all the best stuff up here. Just need to know what to ask for. Requisitions in the Courthouse can get you literally anything. Well, base materials and ingredients.

"Good afternoon," the clerk said. He was one of those angels with the spinning rings for a head, but she sensed he was projecting a welcoming smile. "What is it you need?"

Cherri Bomb blinked. "Do I have to fill out forms first? Is there a background check or waiting days or something?"

"Yes, no and no," the angel answered her questions in order. He followed that by producing a requisitions request form. Name. Request. Amount. Signature.

Vox just blitzkrieged Heaven's networks because this is the level of security we have! She wanted to be angry. But then, why would they be concerned about what an angel needed?

Cherri Bomb stood before the clerk. "Okay, I need something volatile. Do you have any nitroglycerin?"

"No, ma'am," the Court Clerk said. "That would need to be manufactured."

"Fuck. Right." Cherri Bomb could get the component parts and make it herself. But that would take time. "How about ammonium nitrate? That's just fertilizer. Something up here has to shit, right? We have a zoo."

"No and no. We do have nitrammite."

Cherri Bomb's frustration evaporated. "I can make that work. Give me some of that. No, give me a lot of that."

Court Clerk nodded. "How much?"

"How much do you have?"

Court Clerk's wheels spun. "This is Heaven, ma'am. We have an infinite amount of every resource."

Cherri Bomb stared. "An infinite amount? And I can just... ask for it?"

Court Clerk couldn't nod, but projected affirmation. "According to your requisition permissions, yes ma'am."

Cherri Bomb whispered, "I've died and gone to Heaven."

Court Clerk agreed. "That is the idea, ma'am."

Cherri Bomb held up a hand. "I need a moment."

---

Week Six, Day Four - Golden Library, Heaven, afternoon:

Pravuil led the High Seraphim and her wives past statues of revered scholars, both mortal and angel. Past the entryway to the Forbidden Archives and the first sets of columns. To the main doors, set into walls of stained glass in gold, brown and sepia colors.

The doorway was an arch that glowed with a calm blue. Pravuil flew ahead, intoning, "Pravuil, Second Scribe of God, Head of the Golden Library and the recorder for the Court. Accompanied by High Seraphim Emily with esteemed guests Vaggie and Princess Charlie Morningstar, with whom I share access for two hours." There was a soft hum of response.

He flew through. "Vocal library card," Emily explained to her wives as she followed. "This is where all the restricted records are kept."

"Like records of the Exterminations," Vaggie stated. Everyone remembered Emily's speech to the host of Heaven:

I have reinstated some of the restrictions on accessing records of the Exterminations from the Golden Library. The facts of those events will never be concealed. ...I am putting these restrictions in place to avoid spreading trauma.

Pravuil led them to a table with a viewing orb, set on a hexagonal balcony overlooking many, many more floors both above and below. The balcony was ringed with pillars that danced with Enochian datastreams. The edges of the balcony glowed with the same calm blue.

The Golden Library was a testament to Sera's ability to Create space in Heaven. The building was vastly bigger inside. And they were now in the heart of it.

Emily flew up to the table. With a flash of holy light, she summoned two extra chairs. Then took the original one that sat before the viewing orb. She waited for Charlie and Vaggie to take the seats to either side before taking her true seraphim form. "I am ready, Pravuil."

The light of the orb cleared in the center, revealing the interior of a crude building made of mud bricks, lit by a central fire pit. The flames of the fire illuminated two women.

Emily's eyes widened at the sight. Charlie gasped.

In the orb, Sera asked, "Lilith, is Hell becoming a threat to Heaven?"

---

Week Six, Day Four - Elevator 666, afternoon:

Angel Dust couldn't guess how he would feel seeing his mother again after all this time. But every feeling he imagined took a back seat as he saw the spider demon scuttling out of the elevator beside Belphegor.

Look at the body Hell gave you!

He and his siblings were all spiders. It made sense that mom was one too. But Hell had doubled down on the spider. Triple-downed, even. Mom wasn't even humanoid. Well, half of her.

Angel Dust recognized the pattern of a Mediterranean Black Widow. Which was ironically inappropriate. Molly's words hit him again. I got into Heaven for doing nothing!... I hated him for what he made you do. What he turned you into. More than even mom did.

Mom's entire body was an eternal reminder of what she didn't do.

That's so fucked up. Angel Dust had never hated Hell so much.

"Miss Emma, this is Angel Dust and Molly," Belphegor introduced. "Your children."

"Anthony?" the malmignatte demon asked, her voice sweet but cautious. "Is that really you? Johnny said he had found you."

"Yeah, mom," Angel Dust said, feeling suddenly weak. "It's me." The flood of emotions that had taken a back seat weren't anymore. Happiness. Sorrow. Love. Regret. It was too much all at once. He didn't know which to feel. He was trying to feel all of it.

Fuck, he was already crying.

"It's me," Angel Dust reaffirmed. "And Molly. We've m-missed you so much!" His voice was trembling.

Miss Emma scuttled close, holding her arms wide for an embrace that he needed so very much.

Then she stopped, drawing back, her eyes fixated behind him. Angel Dust felt like he was shot. What? He turned to see what had stopped his mother.

She was staring at Molly. Angel Dust did a double take. No, she was staring at Molly's halo.

Molly was crumbling before his eyes under that look.

You've got to be fucking kidding me!

"Miss Emma?" Belphegor asked softly.

"Anthony, come here!" his mother said in a stern voice he did not remember. "Get away from the angel." Her body language had become defensive. "I'll protect you."

"Mom! That's Molly!" Angel Dust cried out. "I don't need protection from my sister!"

"Mom?" Molly said weakly, tears in her eyes.

"I know who she is," Miss Emma announced. She locked eyes on her daughter.

"I'm... I'm an angel, yes. But I'm not an Exorcist!" Molly insisted.

"Of course you're not," their mother practically spat. "You were never good enough to be one."

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!?

"What?" Molly squeaked.

"So many nights, I prayed you would pull that trigger, Molly. But you never did," Miss Emma said accusingly. "Do you think I didn't know? Do you think he didn't?"

"And you're an angel?" Miss Emma tried to step between him and Molly, as if she was actually shielding him from her. All the while burning Molly down with her glare. "I blame you for this."

Enough! "Don't blame Molly!" Angel Dust roared. "You made your own choices. That's how Free Will works. No matter how many mitigating circumstances, you still have a choice. Even when they're all bad ones. Take responsibility for your actions."

The spider demon his mother had become flinched, taking a step back.

"I have for mine!" Angel Dust told her. "I'm not down here blaming dad for my being in Hell. I hate Valentino. But I don't blame him for what I turned myself into trying to escape from it all. I never have." He pointed fingers at himself and her. "If I can take responsibility for my sins, so can you."

Behind him, he heard Molly's soft voice. "She does blame herself. She's overcompensating."

Sera stepped forward. "Miss Emma! Stop this! These are your children!"

"Stay back, angel!" Miss Emma hissed. Angel Dust didn't know where the angelic steel stiletto came from - yes, he did - but it was suddenly in his mother's hand, pointed at Sera's throat.

There were shouts of alarm from some of the nearby demons. Sera stopped. She took a step back. "This meeting was a mistake," she said regretfully.

Miss Emma's face contorted in a scowl. "The Angel of the Exterminations made a mistake?"

"You told her?" Angel Dust gasped, staring at Sera in disbelief.

"I'd say you made a few," Miss Emma countered.

"I have. But we are here for your family." Sera sighed. "Please don't make today about me."

Miss Emma scowl shifted into a pleasant smile. "You are right." She lunged at Sera with the Exorcist blade.

"Rest."

Belphegor's word put their mother to sleep mid-lunge. She crashed to the floor, the stiletto cutting a shallow wound across one of Sera's wings before clattering to the floor, bouncing several meters away.

Molly let out a squeak. But it was already over.

"I'm so sorry," Sera started to say, barely paying attention to her injury. "I..."

Sera's words cut off as Belphegor stumbled. The fallen seraphim flew to catch her as the Sin collapsed, her candle fluttering weakly.

There was quiet. At least from them. The other demons on the platform were processing the events much more vocally.

Razzle had swooped away. He returned with bandages and immediately started tending Sera's wounded wing.

Angel Dust stared down at his unconscious mother, sprawled in slumber on the golden platform floor. "She's not the mother we knew. I don't even recognize her anymore."

"She wasn't like this when she was alive," Molly promised, almost whimpering. "She wasn't!"

Angel Dust put a hand on each of her shoulders. Drew her close. "It's what Hell is best at, right?" he said, looking at Sera. "Helping you become worse."

---

Week Six, Day Four - Porn Studio, Vees Tower, late afternoon:

"Emberlynn in there?" Velvette asked, pointing to the writer's room.

"Yes, but..." the novice Dealmaker's new assistant answered.

"Good," Velvette said, ignoring anything else out of her mouth. The fashionista Overlord pushed past and walked into the writer's room. She had seventeen Contracts she wanted Emberlynn to take off her hands.

"Emberlynn," she interrupted. "I need to see..." She stopped.

The bloody FUCK!?

Niffty waved happily. "Super Queen Bitch!"

There was a glowing pink contract on the writer's table before her. She recognized the porn vixen, Vanexa, sitting next to Niffty, reading over her shoulder. Two other demons Velvette didn't give a crap about were also sitting around the table looking up from identical Contracts.

Velvette looked from Niffty to Emberlynn. And smiled as politely as she could. "Excuse me, but I'm going to need to take a look at that Contract," she informed Miss Pinkle. "Niffty's a friend."

"Of course," Emberlynn said, surprised but open.

"Okay!" Niffty said. Velvette felt a shot of pain as the little Fifinella signed the Contract and offered it to her. The chain writhed into existence, glowing pink, from a collar around Niffty's neck.

Fuck! She began to read very closely. If it was bad, maybe she could influence Pinkle. Fix this.

---

Week Six, Day Four - Golden Library, Heaven, late afternoon:

"Now please, Lilith..." the Sera in the viewing orb pleaded once more. "Do your people pose any threat to mine?" There was a terrible moment of silence.

"I am losing control," Lilith stated.

Charlie watched the change come over her mother. How she hardened. Became authoritative, dominating. The conversation was no longer between two friends on opposite sides of a vast gulf. No longer her mother and her sister-in-law.

It was between the Queen of Hell and the High Seraphim.

"Losing control how?" Sera asked Queen Lilith.

"We have a new problem in the Sinner's City. The rise of warlords who make soul-binding deals, becoming more powerful than any normal demon." Lilith answered, her tail swaying. "They are petty and nothing that threatens Me or My Love, much less you. But the population of Hell increases every day. The more souls in Hell, the more Deals they can make. With, it would seem, no upper limit."

Charlie's heart seized. She immediately understood why Pravuil was required to show them this.

"Eternity is a long time, Sera. And with no mitigation of Hell's population, one day these deal-making warlords will be able to challenge Lucifer and Myself."

And from there, challenge Heaven. Like Vox had effectively just done. Lilith saw it coming and worse. Mother told me the Exterminations were because of Hell's overpopulation!

She... hadn't lied. Charlie could give her mother that. Of course she signed off on them.

The Exterminations had been about limiting the resources of Overlords to keep them from growing too much in power. Those resources just happened to be souls. Human souls.

Emily was frozen next to her. "I... didn't think Sera even talked to anyone before..." On the other side of the seraphim, Vaggie let out a curse Charlie didn't quite catch.

"These are My people, Sera. I empowered them. I will not butcher them - any of them - to stop a few from rising. And I am not condoning you doing so either. Find. Another. Way."

"Well, you failed to do that!" Vaggie spat, staring at Sera. She closed her eye, apologizing.

"I see." Sera replied. "If I can find one, I will surely use it. But if I can't, I will do what is necessary. Before this threat can grow from its infancy."

The vision in the orb ended.

"Thank you, Pravuil," Emily said faintly.

---

Week Six, Day Four - Vees Tower, late afternoon:

"Listen, Darren," Cherri Bomb said, staring down at the receptionist. "Tell Vox that the little war he started has come to pay him a visit. So he better get his ass down here..."

The cyclopean angel trailed off as her eye scanned over the microphone and console on the reception desk. "You know what? Fuck it!"

Cherri Bomb pushed Darren back and grabbed the microphone, hitting the switch for the Vees Tower general announcement system. The insufferable elevator music cut off.

Lifting the microphone, Cherri Bomb checked. "Everyone hear me?" She stared into Darren's panicked face. "Am I addressing the whole building?" He nodded limply. "Good."

"This is a Bomb threat!" Cherri Bomb announced.

"Ya all have five minutes to clear the building or ya'll will be putting yourselves back together for the next few days," she said, her voice ringing out over the speakers. "Unless you're hellborn or just really unlucky and become the next Valentino. The Vees have enough angelic steel floating around that I wouldn't take the risk if I were you."

Lightning struck the floor from the nearest security camera, arcing and resolving into Vox.

"Miss Bomb," he said. "You have my attention."

"Good!" Cherri Bomb pulled the deadman switch out of her pocket with her free hand, arming it. All around her, demons began to panic and run for the door.

Darren's phone buzzed. Cherri Bomb motioned with a wing for him to get it. "That's probably security calling."

"This is a very, very foolish provocation," Vox warned. "Even if you succeed, everyone here will be back in a few days. And I will be very angry."

That's why I'm not worried about giving only five minutes. "Shut it and listen," Cherri Bomb growled. "I want this to be very clear." She still had the microphone held in one hand, button depressed. Her voice demanded attention throughout the tower.

"I'm acting alone. This isn't retaliation from Heaven. This isn't from the fucking Hazbin Hotel. This is just me against you fucks." Cherri's eye glowed with fiery light. "I'm the one who blew up your other dumps. Just like I blew up Izzi. And a fair bit of your old studio while I was there."

She took a step towards him, her wings flaring out. "You Vees want a war? Fine!"

"Sir," Darren said nervously. Vox cast him a look. "Security reports three cargo containers of unknown origin have appeared. One in the VIP parking, one in the television studio, and one in the armory."

Cherri Bomb wasn't sure which of those made Vox's eye widen in alarm, the air around him crackling with a warping sound. But she knew which one should have.

"Your war is with me! Just me!"

Vox chose the better part of valor and zapped away.

---

Week Six, Day Four - Porn Studio, Vees Tower, late afternoon:

"...The Vees have enough angelic steel floating around that I wouldn't take the risk if I were you."

"Wait!" Velvette told Niffty. She was already checking the security cameras from her phone. "Elevators are packed and the stairways are an overcrowded mess. I've got another way out."

Velvette pulled up a picture from a month ago. A bloody symbol on the floor of someplace that wasn't a gas station. She trusted Lute was right about only needing to know how to draw it.

The Overlord turned to Emberlynn. "I need blood. Who here do you like the least?"

Niffty oooohed. "We're going to Nowhere!"

Vanexa stroked the air beneath her neck. "I'll do it," the vixen volunteered, drawing a kitchen knife.

"I want this to be very clear," Cherri Bomb's voice cut over the speakers. "I'm acting alone!"

"No need for a sacrifice!" Emberlynn chimed, prancing over to the obnoxiously pink refrigerator and throwing it open. "Would the blood sigil be more effective in a Stacy or an Edward?" Vanexa put the knife back in her purse.

After living with Vox and Valentino, Velvette saw no reason to question why the pink triclops kitten had pitchers of blood in her fridge. Fuck, Vox is probably trying to save his sharks right now.

Emberlynn passed her the pitchers. "Wait, stop." She looked around. "This room isn't big enough for everyone." She strode back to the head of the table.

The Dealmaker thrust up her hand, manifesting pink chains that fanned out in all directions. Velvette's eyes went wide at the sheer number of them. Nothing like an Overlord's, but how did she get so many in such a short amount of time?

"Attention! I command all of you who are in the studio to go to the Volume," Emberlynn Pinkle demanded. "I will meet you there."

Niffty hopped down, already headed there, her pink chain trailing behind her from the collar on her neck. Vanexa's ears dipped back. She followed, even though she had no chain.

Velvette hissed. "Okay, to the Volume."

---

Week Six, Day Four - Vees Tower, late afternoon:

Their five minutes were up.

Cherri Bomb waited, giving the elevators in motion time to reach their floor and the demons inside to tumble out over each other in stampeding panic. There were injuries. She'd had worse. They'd survive.

Six minutes. She didn't hear running in the stairwells anymore. She gave them a seventh, just in case. Besides, seven was supposed to be an angel number or something.

Then she turned and flew out the front doors, barreling through them and swooping across the street. She landed and turned to face Vees Tower. Her eye traveled up the height of it to the triple-V sign at the top.

She released the deadman switch, letting it drop. And watched the explosions tear the building apart, sending it collapsing downward.

The cloud of dust and debris rolled out, blowing flames and heat before it. Bathing her, blasting back her hair, tearing at her raiment. Burning it away. Leaving her naked in the glory of her personally delivered divine judgment. The angel was filled with a sense of justice and euphoria.

It was beautiful.

---

Week Six, Day Four - Morning Wood Inn & Suites, Lust, early evening:

Vaggie lounged in the extremely plush waiting room chair that she had been absolutely assured was clean. Next to her, Emily had sunk into another awkwardly and was trying to get her wings comfortable. She fingered one of the buttons on the armrest, hoping to adjust it, and eeped as the chair began to vibrate.

Charlie returned with their key. "Ozzie set us up in the honeymoon suite on the top floor," she said cheerfully.

"This hotel has sixty-nine floors, doesn't it?" Vaggie asked as she rescued Emily from her chair.

"Yes! How'd you guess?" Charlie wondered. Emily giggled with delight.

It took them about ten minutes to reach their floor and get into their... well, it was far more than just a room. The open layout took up nearly the entire floor. There were multiple beds, one sunken into the floor. A kitchenette. An entertainment center complete with dancing poles. A spiral staircase up to the roof.

"Whoa!" Vaggie breathed. "Okay... wow."

Most of it was decorated in lustful scarlets and purples. The ceiling was mirrored. There was a lot of mood lighting.

Emily squeed and threw herself onto one of the beds face first and sank into it. "It's so soft!" she announced. "We're totally having a pillow fight!"

Charlie was spinning, taking it all in.

Vaggie walked to the kitchen with their cooler and began storing the food they had gotten from the farmers market. She paused as she pulled out the mango.

"Uh, Charlie?" Vaggie said. She hated to change the mood, but they really needed to talk about... things. "Honey, you said earlier that you were thinking about how we could win?"

Charlie stopped ooohing at the room. But she didn't lose her smile. Emily sat up on the bed.

"Yes!" Charlie clapped. "The way we win is to figure out the problems we have that the Horsemen are going to try to use against us, and fix them."

Oh, that's all?

"And the first step to that is figuring out what those problems are," Charlie added. "Which, thanks to Arackniss, Azrael... and that orb today... I think we have!"

Vaggie put the rest of the food in the refrigerator and turned to Charlie, giving her full attention.

Emily hopped off the bed, asking, "Okay, so what first?"

"First," Charlie said, "We take the wind out of Famine. Hell has limited resources. Heaven does not. So we get Heaven to share."

Emily nodded. Then she winced a little. "Sera tried that once," she noted. "It was one of the only times the Court unanimously stood against her."

Charlie frowned, but only for a moment. "Well, things have changed. Heaven and Hell are on much better terms, and you won't be bringing this to the Court alone. We'll be doing it together."

Emily smiled at that and nodded.

Had her wives been at the same Heavenly hearing today?

"Okay, that sounds great," Vaggie interjected. "But it won't be that easy. And even if you two can get Heaven's Court to agree, distributing resources to Hell is going to be a nightmare. The only functional distribution network that Hell has right now is the Union."

Charlie pursed her lips. That was a problem.

"But we don't have to distribute to all of Hell," she said after some thought. "Just Pride. If we can take the burden of supporting Sinners off of the rest of Hell, that will be huge. And give us enough time to work out Hell-wide shortages when they actually start to happen."

Vaggie nodded. "There will still be issues. For starters, we'll have warlords in the Doomsday District hoarding the supplies for themselves."

Emily perked up. "Carmine Industries!" Charlie and Vaggie both looked at her questioningly.

"Everything will be going through the Heaven Embassy," Emily said happily. "Carmilla has been working on an alliance with the Embassy. Carmine Industries has the infrastructure to distribute resources across Pride and is scary enough to protect and enforce the effort!"

"That... would be giving Carmilla a monopoly," Vaggie cautioned. "But I think that's actually a good idea! At this point, I'd trust her more than anyone else in Pentagram City. Except maybe Rosie."

Charlie clapped again. "Yes! We can do this." She turned to the other issues. "The next problem is overpopulation. Which is a problem. Pentagram City takes up the entire circle, and the other eight are apparently just as bad."

The way Molly described Imp City, the second circle might actually be more crowded.

"Even if we have the resources, we are running out of room," Charlie said. "Part of the idea for the Happy Hotel was to help reduce the population."

"Happy Hotel?" Emily asked.

"Hazbin, pre-Alastor," Vaggie explained.

"I like Happy Hotel better."

"So do I, sweetie," Vaggie said. "Point is, resources are only half the problem. And it's not like there's anyone in Hell who can just make more space."

Charlie nodded. "We don't have solutions for all the problems yet. But we know the problems, and we can solve one of them already. Or, well, we'll need to talk to Mrs. Carmine and the Court Angels, but... we can do it!"

Charlie sighed, her happiness deflating a little. "The last problem is the Overlords. And I don't know how to fix that." Before Vaggie could say it, Charlie added, "Without declaring war."

---

Week Six, Day Four - Hazbin Hotel private room, early evening:

Music filled the private room. The song was rising towards its climax. Nobody noticed the distant popping sounds of an explosion on the other side of the city. The lights dimmed briefly.

"...But the stars fade, night turns to gloom,
And all about, I breathe the tomb."

Octavia sang, strumming a guitar that Crymini had claimed from Cherri Bomb's old room, despite the puppy not knowing how to play. Baxter was lending his skill with the saxophone. Crymini was clapping a steady beat and Sera was rounding out the music with the piano.

Keekee lay on the piano, eye wide. Her tail flopped like a little metronome. The spiders listened.

Baxter would normally have avoided such nonsense. But this was special. And science.

Razzle broke in, taking over the song. His voice was stronger when he sang. Surer. There was magic involved, Baxter had no doubt. The little goat-dragon could belt out words in song that he otherwise struggled to put voice to.

"Yet here together, me and you,
We have the faith to get us through."

Baxter put his soul into the saxophone, a solo that brought them to the final verse. Now, it was Sera's turn to sing.

"On the street, I'm all alone,
I want to atone; I want to go home.
But in this place, I shed my tears,
I face my heartbreak and my fears."

And again Razzle took the final chorus and with it the outro. Keekee listened, fascinated.

"And I believe in me and you,
I have the faith to see us through."
"When all grows dark, the blind lead the blind.
We need all the Hope that we can find."

Baxter's saxophone played them out, accompanied by piano and guitar.

While the rest basked in post-musical bliss, Baxter slipped off his chair and out the door. That was enough for him. He had done the social thing. It had been worth it to gauge how swiftly Razzle's voice was developing. But now, Baxter's laboratory was calling.

The small anglerfish demon strode down the hall, carrying his saxophone. He didn't bother putting it into the Other until he was back in his hotel room. Then he threw the switch on the door to his laboratory.

Moments later, he was inside. He closed the door and adjusted his glasses. He looked at the table of strewn parts. The chainbreaker prototype, still in its component pieces.

"Now let's see what I can do with you."

---

Week Six, Day Four - Rubble of Vees Tower, early evening:

The city seemed in shock. Power was out in the entertainment district. The explosions had been seen as far as City Center. They had been heard throughout the city. The column of smoke rose up to the pentagram.

The building had collapsed downward, doing minimal damage to the surrounding structures. Almost as if by miracle.

Toward the center of the destruction, the rubble had fallen into a sinkhole where multiple levels of underground parking had left a cavity. Sparks erupted from torn wiring connected to a backup generator spewing power into the environment.

A violently large arc bounced off exposed rebar and settled into the form of Vox, stumbling and falling to his hands and knees. He stood up, brushing himself off, and began searching the rubble. There were a few bodies, but not ones that mattered. He didn't stop until he found a fin.

It was gone. The whole tower. The studio. His sharks. Possibly Velvette.

"I. Am going. TO DESTROY. Alastor for this!"

Vox was struck in the head by a ruddy-stained glass pitcher. "Shut! Up!"

"Well, at least you survived, Velvette," he said, weathering her tantrum.

She had lost her fashion studio after all. And Velvette's. He could understand her impotent rage. But she should check herself. She hadn't lost anyone who mattered. She hadn't lost pets.

Everything Velvette lost could be replaced. After he ended this.

"This has nothing to do with the fucking Radio Demon!" Velvette spat. "He wasn't the one who attacked us. He wasn't the one who blew up the fucking tower. This happened because you insisted on making enemies we didn't need!"

"The bomber was one of the beneficiaries of Alastor's hotel," Vox informed her. "The same terrorist who attacked our facilities earlier this year. She's clearly working for him."

Velvette glared at him. "No, she's bloody not! She hates the fucker."

"Does she now?" Vox said. "Well, let's see what he says about that when I have him at my mercy. He sent an angel to attack us, so I'm thinking of going Biblical. And eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth." His screen flickered as his demonic aspect surged.

"My babies had a LOT of TEETH!"

Velvette threw up her hands in exasperation. "Your whole grudge against Alastor is bollocks!"

"You're pissed because you made him an offer to be one of us, and he turned you down," she ranted, stepping over rubble and a few stray body parts. "You've got your knickers in a twist, acting like a scorned woman who can't handle her shit."

The other Vee was practically frothing. "Well I've got news for you: Alastor couldn't take your offer. And it had nothing to do with you. He wasn't rejecting you! Alastor's chained!"

"...WHAT?" Vox's demonic flared then died. "Alastor's... on a chain?"

Vox reeled. That... that changed everything.

"He wasn't behind this any more than he was behind Valentino," Velvette said. "You almost destroyed the Vees chasing a delusion!"

"That angel..." Vox said, putting it together. "The one at war with us. She was Angel Dust's friend." That was why she attacked. Because in targeting the hotel, he targeted Angel Dust. She was fighting for her friend. Probably lover. Just like when she attacked Valentino and Izzi at the porn studio.

Then it clicked. "She killed Valentino."

Velvette blinked. Then began to laugh. "Bloody hell! The only one I convinced of that is you?!"

What? "What do you mean?"

"Vox, I killed Valentino!" Velvette admitted. "To stop him from... doing exactly what you have managed to do to us instead."

"Valentino was never a real threat to us," Vox said in a dangerously low voice. "And this is nothing. We have enough money and assets to rebuild this tower twelve times over."

The scope of what Velvette had done began to sink in. "This is the end of the Vees," he told her. "And it wasn't Valentino or I who dealt us a death blow. It was you."

The two Overlords stared at each other as their alliance dissolved. "The Vees are finished."

A prim southern voice chimed in. "You don't know the half of it, I'm afraid."

---

Week Six, Day Four - Hazbin Hotel, early evening:

It was the end of the world. And it was occurring in the parlor of the Hazbin Hotel. The collision of two celestial bodies whose orbits around her should never have crossed.

Octavia followed the sound of the two voices.

"...then she said 'someone who can relate!' and just stared him down, saying 'she gets to choose if she forgives, not you!'" Crymini was regaling her audience. "Completely vicious!"

"Vicious?" Octavia heard her dad ask.

"It means awesome. DD slang."

"Right, right," Stolas said. Then, making sure he got it right, "Vicious is good, and dank is bad?"

Crymini nodded as Octavia walked into the room. "Dank is the worst."

"Dad?"

Stolas spun his head to face her. "There you are, Octavia, dear! Your friend was just telling me how you stood up to 'the most sadistic bastard in Hell'. I'm very proud of you!" His smile faded with a cringe. "...also, ouch."

Octavia sighed. "Yeah. Ouch." No point denying it. "But I chose you, dad. I... know I have a lot of resentment and anger..." She paused, searching for the best phrase. "...in my personal garden. But I chose to forgive you and be together because I love you. Don't forget that." She gave him a slightly pained smile. "No matter how 'vicious' the story."

She walked to a chair and sat down. Mostly so her dad could face forward talking to her. It looked like he was freaking Crymini out a little.

Stolas smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Via. I love you too, my starfire. And..." He too paused a moment. "Your resentment is justified. I haven't always... done well by you. I know it's late, but I promise to do better. To... learn to be better."

Crymini barked,"Well, you're in the right fucking place for it."

The puppy Sinner's left ear perked at a knock on the door. "I'll get it."

Crymini hopped up, hurrying out of the parlor and toward the front door. Octavia suspected her friend wanted to give her and her dad some space. Via focused on her father.

Stolas leaned forward. "To that end... Via, there's something I need to talk to you about..."

Crymini's voice cut him off. "Oh you have got to be fucking with me!"

"Hello, Crymini. I know I'm not allowed inside..."

Her dad turned, standing from his chair at the voice. Octavia followed suit.

"You're not allowed on the fucking property!" Crymini growled.

The abomination in the green pinstriped suit leaned on his cane and smiled with glowing, dagger-like teeth. "Yes, well, what Charlie doesn't know won't hurt anyone."

Octavia had seen his picture among the papers Paimon had delivered to her father. She took a breath and started towards the door.

"It's gonna fucking hurt you." Crymini promised, lifting claws. "You've got balls to come here. Let's tear them off! And I'm calling Charlie the moment I'm done."

Octavia put a hand on Crymini's shoulder, quieting her friend. She stared at Seviathan. "I'm guessing you're here for me."

Seviathan nodded. "Our family patriarchs are determined to set our future. I wanted to get to know you before I decided how hard to fight it."

"What are you proposing?... oh by Lucifer. Wrong word!" Octavia shook her head and tried again. "What are you suggesting?"

Seviathan chuckled, lifting his cane. "I suggest a date. We'll start with dinner. We can take it from there once we get to know each other a little."

That sounds... fair.

Her dad's voice spoke up from behind her. "Seviathan, this is not a good time. We were... about to discuss options." He looked down at her. "Via, you don't have to do this."

Octavia closed her eyes and took a breath. "Yes, dad. I think I do."

She opened her eyes and looked at Seviathan. "I think we do."

Seviathan stepped aside with a bow and a sweep of his cane. Octavia stepped out of the Hazbin Hotel and into the evening air. There was a bizarre black and malachite limo waiting for them, rumbling like a predator.

Her fiance led her to the limo. It had no doors beyond one for the driver. Instead, the middle of the vehicle was a giant mouth that opened to let them in, saliva stringing between its fangs.

"Well, this is a thing." Octavia climbed in without prompting or assistance.

---

Week Six, Day Four - Rubble of Vees Tower, early evening:

"Where the fuck did you come from?" Velvette glowered. "Wasn't Nowhere. I was just there."

Rosie stepped daintily over the rubble, carrying her parasol over her shoulder. Vox and Velvette were staring. Together. Perfect.

"Rosie!" Vox greeted with false warmth. "This isn't a good time. I'd offer tea, but..."

"Okay, Vox," Velvette grumbled, her eyes narrowing. "Maybe Alastor is involved."

The first one would be easy. Eenie, meanie, mine.

"WHAT THE FUCK!?" Vox cried out as he was swarmed by little black shadow-gremlins. Vox flailed, trying to throw the little buggers off.

"Be careful," Rosie said with a smile. "They bite!"

Everyone in power would know they were on loan from Alastor. There was no hiding her alliance with the Radio Demon. After tonight, it wouldn't matter. Rosie watched as one clambered up Vox's back and locked the dreamcatcher around his neck.

It was a very special one. The hypothalamus of a candlehead demon from Sloth, bone fragments from the skull of a true dreamwalker, and the silk from black widow hellspiders nurtured by her garden. The bone fragments were the rarest part. Izzi's exploded head supplied barely enough.

Vox collapsed, out like an unplugged television. A little channeling of the powers of the Sin of Sloth. It helped that Belphegor hadn't finished her slice of wedding cake. A dash of her saliva made the enchantment that much stronger.

"Vox!" Velvette screamed as the shadow gremlins began to eat him. That wouldn't do. He'd just come back.

As Rosie approached the fallen television Overlord, Velvette pulled out a flashy purple shotgun, blinged with neon lights and holographic chrome. "Back off, vore queen!"

Rosie spun, lowering her parasol as Velvette fired twice, opening it to become a shield. She directed the gremlins at the social media Overlord, forcing Velvette to turn her focus on them.

Rosie closed her parasol as she stepped up to Vox's body. A few missing bites, but still alive. Good. She triggered an angelic spike and stabbed Vox through the neck, twisting until he was quite finally dead.

And now for the other one.

Rosie turned to see Velvette flicker and de-rez, sending her essence into every wireless device in range. Yes, she knew this would be the hard one. Velvette was either adjusting to the new flood of Contracts she just received with preternatural speed, or she had been very circumspect with what she had already been able to do.

Rosie honestly couldn't imagine the social media Overlord keeping anything that secret. She posted pictures of her meals.

Velvette's face appeared on one of the electric billboards. "Oh you have just made a huge mistake!"

"So have you, darling," Rosie said, sending a black tentacle through the billboard, shattering the screen in a shower of sparks and pulling Velvette, once more corporeal in its grasp, towards her.

Then lifted the woman high and slammed her into shattered concrete and broken glass. Rosie stepped towards her, spinning her parasol as the woman struggled to get back up.

A voice cried out. "Oh! I have those too!"

Rosie abruptly found herself lifted from the ground, enwrapped in pinkish-purple, very penile tentacles that ripped themselves up through the rubble.

"Oh wow!" Emberlynn Pinkle gasped. "This is like Setsuki's power up in episode six-nine-three!"

Rosie's eyes widened. Really? Every Overlord knew now that the Vees' Contracts transferred ownership, but she never imagined they were written in a way that would transfer that power outside the trio!

Rosie stared at a tentacle that was getting a little too close to her face. "Fair warning, dearie. Any of these get too intimate, they'll be devoured."

The pink cat demon blinked. "Ooooh, wow. Do you have the power to make teeth anywhere on your body? That's so kinky!" Rosie chose not to question that. The penile tip drew back from her face. "Makes sense for the Queen of the Cannibals. Have you ever considered a role in porn?"

Rosie politely shook her head. "Not to my taste." This changed things. Even if she took out Velvette, there were no Contracts to be gained here. No enriching power play unless she also intended to take on the pink kitten. And Rosie had no ill-will for Miss Pinkle.

"Charlie wouldn't like it if we killed Rosie." A voice from Velvette's direction.

Rosie turned towards where the social media Overlord had gotten back to her feet. Battered and bleeding, standing wobbly. Next to her, a purple vixen held Velvette's shotgun. Rosie's eyes fixed on the tiny woman beneath them, pulling an angelic blade out of a dead shadow gremlin.

"Say hello to my little friend," Velvette grinned unsteadily.

"Hi, Rosie!" Niffty waved.

Well, that settled it. She was reluctant to engage the feline triclops. She would absolutely not endanger Alastor's favorite. "You may let me down now, Miss Pinkle. Our business is done."

Rosie looked to Velvette. "I came to kill the Vees. I dare say that is done, even if you live. Would you not agree?" She would soon have to sell the same to Alastor..

Velvette glared but said nothing. She looked from Vox's body to the tiny woman at her side. She couldn't say yes, but it was understood.

The tentacles retracted, slithering back under the rubble. Rosie smiled and curtsied.

"Oh, and welcome to the ranks of the Overlords, Miss Pinkle," she said. And then she was gone.

---

Week Six, Day Four - Streets of Pentagram City, early evening:

The city rolled by like the pavement beneath the limousine's wheels.

Seviathan paid close attention to his date. It was a game. Dinner and a Something. But this time, it was being played for much higher stakes.

"Who's our chauffeur?" the owl girl asked.

Well, she was definitely handling the ride better than the last girl he had in here. She wasn't playing oblivious, nor was she suppressing a freak out. That boded well.

"The limo drives itself," Seviathan told her. "My sister has a key, but that is really just for the garage she came with."

He'd fuck a blender before he called the pocket of Deep Other a stable.

She was looking at him. Not staring. Assessing. She was an amateur, like her father. But unlike him, she was playing the game.

I'll call this all a win if I can keep you from being fed to the limo.

---

Week Six, Day Four - Rubble of Vees Tower, evening:

Emberlynn Pinkle stared at the crumbled wreckage of her Volume. The pink feline let out a yeowl of frustration.

"It's like Heaven decided Hell can't have nice things!"

Velvette stood among the ruins of Velvette's and had a hard time not agreeing. Her body hurt. She had fractured bones. She could dive into seeking revenge on Rosie and Cherri Bomb. But letting trauma take the controls was exactly the sort of shit that got both Valentino and Vox dead.

Velvette's eyes narrowed, glowing. "It wasn't Heaven."

"Yeah, I know," Emberlynn hissed, putting a paw on one of the shattered screens then pushing it over. "Doesn't change the fact that she could just come and do this again after we rebuild."

"Rebuild?" Velvette scoffed. "You heard Vox. The Vees are over." It was nice working with you. Goodbye Hell-O(verlord)-Kitty. Have a nice afterlife.

But Emberlynn Pinkle wasn't fucking with that. "Well yes. It's Velvette and Emberlynn now! V&E!"

Velvette turned to stare at her. "Are. You. Serious?"

Emberlynn danced in the rubble. "You heard Vox. We have the money. And we still have that huge block of angelic steel. I know where it's hidden!" She twirled and slid up to her, the cat demon wrapping her tail about Velvette. "We can rebuild all of this! Better than before!"

She smiled. "Then I'll take care of our angel problem so she doesn't do this again."

Velvette's eyes widened. "You. Will take care of the angel?"

Emberlynn nodded, her eyes looking around. "But first priority is our people. They just lost their jobs. Their place of work. We need to fix that as fast as possible."

She fluttered about on her little bat wings, pausing to pull an arm from under a half-burned frame that held a ruined masterpiece. She blinked and tossed the arm away. "They're going to need something when they pull themselves back together."

With a moment of contemplation, she said, "I'm going to start by renegotiating my Contracts from Vox. I don't want people who don't want to be here. Oooh! Maybe Vanexa's agent will help!"

Velvette shook her head. The furball was far too concerned about the little people. But Pinkle had just gained half of Vox's Contracts. She was no longer just a Dealmaker. She was someone with the power to make these things happen. If she had someone experienced to show her how.

And I've made enough enemies that it would be unwise to be on my own. Famine, for example.

She wasn't exactly on her own. But Lute and Niffty were hardly equal to an alliance of Overlords.

"Tell me you're not going to target the Hazbin Hotel."

"Why would I?" Emberlynn looked at her, eyes wide with surprise. "You heard the angel. She wasn't acting as part of Heaven or a hotel." The triclops cat demon shook her head. "No, this is just between her and us."

"Okay," Velvette said tentatively. "We'll give V&E a trial run." That got a meow of excitement. "But maybe you should leave the angel to me."

"Naw!" Emberlynn said a little too happily. "I've got this!" Pinkle slid up against her provocatively.

"I know all the best assassins in Hell. And I've got the restraining orders to prove it!"

---

Week Six, Day Four - The Golden Ring restaurant, evening:

Octavia stared at the plate as their waiter set it in front of her. It was a simple but elegant dish, the meat roasted using rice oil, salt, pepper and kluka peel for a citrus zest. This looks really good! She looked up at Seviathan. "I can't believe this place serves roasted vole!"

Seviathan smiled. "Of course." He amended, "It isn't normally on the menu, but one of the cooks here has several recipes using it. I just had to arrange it ahead of time."

Octavia blinked. She'd chosen her dish. There had been several that were appealing. How many had Seviathan arranged for to ensure she had good choices? For that matter, how did he know what she liked?

Reading her surprise, the abomination smiled. "I followed you on Sinstagram."

Oh! "Thank you." She wasn't one to obnoxiously post her meals, but she did have a small handful of posts about favorites. "AbyssMalContent?"

"Guilty as charged." Seviathan paused as his own plate was put before him. He had ordered the same thing she did. Clearly as an experiment. "I hope you don't mind. If there is a chance we are to be wed, it seemed the least I could do."

Octavia found that really thoughtful. And felt a bit abashed that it hadn't occurred to her to do the same. "I thought that account was my dad trying to make me feel popular."

The young Goetia began to eat. The roasted vole was even better than it looked. She'd never had it with a citrus note before, but the fruit from Gluttony complimented it really nicely.

She watched him slice off a bite and eat it, looking contemplative. "Do you like it?" she asked hesitantly. She quickly added, "You don't have to eat the same things I do."

Seviathan swallowed and licked his mouth with a forked tongue. "I could grow to like this," he assessed. "It is gamey and pungent, both of which are strong points in its favor." He chuckled. "And no, we would generally not be sharing food. I'd ensure you had your own kitchen with separate staff. Many of the things in my larder would not be pleasant for you."

That was... um... okay.

"I spoke briefly with your father about diet earlier," Seviathan admitted. "He was concerned when he learned abominations regularly consume what most would find deadly poison."

Oh. That is a real thing. "I've read a few murder mysteries which used that," Via noted.

"Any you would recommend?" Seviathan asked between bites. Octavia offered several of her favorites. Both with and without abominations or poison as plot points.

"Any poisons you would recommend?" she asked in return. That got a jolt. Good. She smirked.

"That depends," Seviathan smiled back. "Who is it for?"

Well played. She took a bite of her roasted vole. Savored it. "Say I'm writing a story," she said. "What poison would be particularly clever?"

Seviathan was warming to the conversation the way her dad would. She was glad to find a topic she had some knowledge in that they could talk about rather than their arranged marriage.

---

Week Six, Day Four - Hazbin Hotel private room, evening:

Crymini downed her Old Fashioned while Stolas nursed something that smelled too floral.

"I don't know Stella," the puppy Sinner told him. "She sounds like a real piss stain. But I can't help but empathize with her, y'know?"

Via's dad looked up at her with an unpleasant expression.

Crymini clarified, "I mean, if I was shoved into a Contract that I didn't even agree to? That forced me and some guy I didn't like to rape each other, then spend eighteen years of my life raising our rape-baby? I'd like to think I wouldn't be such a piece of shit that I'd take it out on my fellow victim!" She hopped up to get another drink. "But honestly, there are just so many things that would be on fire that I can't say I wouldn't."

Stolas' beak dropped open. "Rape baby!? I have never seen Octavia that way! And thank Lucifer you didn't say that where she might overhear!"

Crymini spun. "I'm honest, not sadistic or fucking stupid! There's a reason I held that back until she was out of the building."

Crymini slammed her glass on the bar and marched back to the owl man. "But you're living in a fantasy if you think Octavia has never wondered if that's all she is. Especially after learning she was a mandated precautionary heir for fuck's sake!"

"Oh my..." Stolas blinked in dismay. "Oh no! My poor Via! I really must talk to her. Right away!"

He started to get up, then stopped, apparently remembering where his daughter was. "As soon as she comes back."

The words no shit come to mind. But Cryimini didn't say that. She'd already cut. "Start by listening. Don't fucking tell her how she shouldn't feel. Don't put dank in her head."

Not some fantasy of me.

Crymini winced. And earnestly advised, "Via needs a dad who wants to hear who she is, not one who thinks he knows who she is already."

---

Week Six, Day Four - The Golden Ring restaurant, evening:

"Okay, there is something I have to ask you about," his date said. He could tell by her tone that she wanted to be non-judgmental but it was too late. He was already amused. Seviathan played a quick game with himself, giving odds to what story she had heard about him. "Crymini said you were going to give a girl a love potion?"

"Crymini?" Seviathan asked. He remembered the name from somewhere. Oh yes! "Niffty's friend. The puppy."

"Yeah. We've gone through some shit together." Octavia's voice fell away. The owl goth paled, blinking, then whispered to herself, "I'm never going to be able to use that phrase again."

He gave her a moment to recover before answering. "I was going to give it to Niffty."

The young almost-woman across from him grew thunderous. "You were going to give Niffty a love potion!?" She partially rose from her seat. Seviathan could not keep himself from smiling.

It was a perfect response. Anyone who had taken the time to know his little stab wound in the slightest could not help but feel either terrified and repulsed or fiercely defensive. If they were really lucky, both.

"Niffty wanted to give it to another woman whom she believed needed it to be able to feel love," Seviathan explained. "For the other woman to use on herself. Consensually."

His date's rage withered as that cut through her bluster. "Oh. You mean... give it to her as a present. Not... okay." She sat back down. Her head lowered, lost in thought as she ate the last of her vole. There was a stretch of silence before she followed up. "Would that have worked?"

"Yes," Seviathan told her. "Top shelf Love Potion is all that is advertised. I have known abominations who use it so they can experience what love feels like."

Octavia's brow furrowed. "Abominations can't feel love naturally?"

He wasn't offended. It was a fair question. "The majority can, but many cannot. Sociopathy is a stereotype we are painted with for a reason." His date listened. Internalizing before deciding what to say next. That was rare enough to be impressive. He was no longer simply amused.

"Love and empathy are not processed the same in the abomination psyche," he explained. "And for some, not at all. Those who cannot feel those things will sometimes look for artificial or mystical ways to experience them."

"Huh." Again his date was thoughtful. He liked that. Those who rushed to judgment were tedious. If circumstances were different, her contemplation would have earned her a second date. Her next words were a surprise. "I think I might grasp a little of what that's like."

He strongly doubted it, but Octavia explained her reasoning. "I've never wanted to feel what people who aren't asexual do. But I can imagine wanting to."

His date was drawing a parallel to forge empathy. It was a practice he knew well and employed himself. The chittering in the darkness would love her.

Octavia looked upwards. "If my parents had been even a fraction as into each other as dad is with his..." A scowl. "...boyfriend. I think I would have been envious enough to feed Leviathan."

---

Week Six, Day Four - Hazbin Hotel, evening:

Princess rolled up around the statue of Dazzle.

Vanexa disengaged her hold on Velvette and got off awkwardly. Niffty hopped out of the sidecar.

Velvette slid off the pimped-out purple motorcycle gymnastically, wincing a little, and stowed her helmet. She checked her hair. Changed her bloody bandages for clean ones with a snap of her fingers. Then strode into the Hazbin Hotel. She didn't knock. It was a fucking hotel.

Niffty skipped along, following her, and waved to everyone.

Velvette watched Vanexa walk over to the bar and sit down beside it, briefly tugging at the air in front of her neck. A little I'm home signal. Girl was bloody weird.

They didn't have a front desk. She remembered that much. "Hey, Husk!" She also remembered Husker was a dead name to the former Overlord. No reason not to respect that. "I need a key."

The winged cat demon looked up from performing a card trick for Val's former spider boy and a female spider Velvette didn't know; the resemblance to Angel Dust was too strong not to be family. "Say what?"

"Vel?" Angel Dust asked in surprise for the second time that day. "Wait, you want to stay here?"

"Your one-eyed angel just blew up Vees Tower," she informed them, shocking both. The spider immediately went for his phone, searching social media to confirm. She could actually see his searches in her mind. Velvette couldn't help but smirk, if grimly.

"Emberlynn's an Overlord now!" Niffty announced, doing a little dance as if showing off the chain nobody could actually see. "She has tentacles like Sevvie!" After a pause, the gremlin added, "'Cept hers are purple and come from the ground. And have lots of little nubs on them."

Angel Dust briefly looked from his phone as the female spider perked up. "Really?" the spiders asked in perfect unison.

The range of emotions that played over Husk's face was perfect.

"Holy shit," Angel Dust breathed as his search started getting hits. "Cherri blew up Vees Tower!"

"Oh!" The other spider gasped. "Oh no! Anthony, I was supposed to talk to her!"

"Where are the Heaven bandages?" Niffty asked Husk as she clambered over the bar.

Velvette's eyes narrowed. "You bloody fucks owe me a place to stay."

---

Week Six, Day Four - The Golden Ring restaurant, late evening:

"...I mean, I'd get it if there was any romance. But there's not," Octavia complained. "It's just this weird, disgusting sexual thing."

"Disgusting?" Seviathan asked, raising an eyebrow.

Octavia sighed and stared at her plate, now clean of roasted vole. They were waiting on the dessert course. "Maybe I'm not the best judge. But... yeah. They're incredibly vulgar with each other. In front of me and... well, everyone. Particularly dad. Which is just gross."

"Are you sure it isn't also romantic?" Seviathan probed.

Octavia was taken aback by the question. She stared at him as the waiter came by, taking their empty plates and offering to refill their drinks.

She nodded. As soon as the waiter walked away, she sank back, letting out the groan she had been holding in. "Arrrugh. I hate that." At Seviathan's confused look, she explained, "Asexual doesn't automatically mean aromantic!"

"Sorry," Via said with a sigh. "That's just really frustrating." She sat up. "Let's just say I got more from my father than feather color and a love for the stars."

Seviathan sipped his absinthe. "Ah. So you're a romantic goth!" He smirked. "With magic, no less. Necromancy, by any chance?"

"I will remind you the waiter didn't collect our cutlery," Octavia playfully warned.

"And that is the most romantic thing you've said tonight," Seviathan told her.

---

Week Six, Day Four - Velvette's bedroom, late evening:

Vox was dead. Velvette was handling it more callously than she should be. Lute had been there before. It was a bad place to be. A place that could make you do rash things.

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

Velvette and Vox had not been in love, at least not as far as Lute could tell. But they had been close. Their friendship had been unique. And very special to the last of the Vees.

Charlie had given Lute a chance. Protected her from being devoured alive so that she could try to be better. That woman continued to do so even after learning that Lute had tried to sick her missing mother on her.

"Talk to me," Lute said. "Velvette, tell me about Vox. Everything you can remember. The good and the bad."

Lute loathed the person she had been. She wasn't sure how much better a person she could be. But she could be the person for Velvette that she had needed herself.

"Why would I do that?" Velvette scowled.

"Because I am an angel," Lute answered. "I am fallen. And I am not a seraphim. But my memory is at least as good as Hell's internet, and a lot more private. It would be good to have a back up of what you remember of him."

And being able to talk about him will help get out the poison that will try to eat you inside.

Velvette stared at her. Assessing. Then nodded. The social media Overlord got what she was doing. Lute could see unspoken thanks in her eyes.

"Did you know his head wasn't always flat?" she began.

---

Week Six, Day Four - The Golden Ring restaurant, late evening:

The waiter placed the plate of cockroaches in chocolate sauce before Octavia. It looked positively decadent, with three types of chocolate and slices of candied cherries. Seviathan briefly regretted not having again ordered the same as his date. But only for a moment.

His chocolate ice cream trifle banished that envy. Seviathan took slight note that Octavia favored chocolate just as much. But that was hardly a unique quality. And while she preferred something with crunch, he could not turn down an ice cream dessert. He loved the eyeballs.

Tonight had not gone favorably. Of course he had a fallback. This wasn't just a date. It was an assessment of the woman he was being forced to marry. He had ways of ending the night should she prove entirely unsuitable. But that didn't change the simple truth: he had lost.

The game of Dinner and a Something required that he figure out the appropriate something for the second half of the date before dessert.

"I learned about astronomy, plants and poisons from my father. Beyond that, I have tutors," Octavia told him. "For academics. Goetia law..." She rolled her eyes. "I'm actually receiving lessons on how to be a cold-hearted bitch... I'm sorry, I mean a proper member of the Goetia courts. Paimon's insistence, after the divorce." She cast a glower aside. "He's never actually talked to me, but he's decided my education as well as my future."

Seviathan could relate. "If you could choose a subject of your own to pursue, what would it be?"

Octavia took her first bite of sinfully chocolate cockroach as she thought about that. There was a pause to marvel. "Oh, they cooked this just right. The texture is amazing."

She smiled. "I'm not sure. If there is something I want to learn, I usually just read about it myself. We have a huge library. Or I look it up on the internet." She cocked her head curiously. "What did you choose?"

Savvy enough not to ask if he had the choice first. Or at least bold. "Sword fighting," he said. "It is becoming a lost art in the age of the gun. Not that I don't have a few of those too."

Octavia rolled her eyes, "Yeah, well, if I told dad I wanted to learn that, he would probably try to set up his boyfriend as a tutor. No thank you." At Seviathan's raised eyebrow, she supplied, "Blitz is an assassin. Runs a business killing people in the Living World."

Seviathan ahh'ed. "Learning sword fighting is hardly just training to kill someone. Or even defense. It is about self-discipline, control, strategy." He looked down, scooping a spoonful of ice cream and cake. "And it can be amazing for self-esteem."

"Now that I could use more of," the young nearly-a-woman laughed. It was a self-depreciative laugh. The sort he knew well.

"Then it is settled," he decided. "Whether you are to become my wife or not, next week we will begin fencing lessons."

"Fencing?" she asked, raising an eyebrow of her own.

"It is not a form of combat. Your father could not inflict his companion on you in the name of aid. You have the body for it," he assessed. "And I suspect you would enjoy it more than swinging a sabre. Although if you would prefer..."

"No." Octavia took another bite of her cockroach dessert. Savored and swallowed as she warmed to the idea. "I'm willing to give fencing a try."

---

Week Six, Day Four - Hazbin Hotel Hot Tub, late evening:

Sera watched Molly and Angel Dust relax in the hot tub while she lay on the nearby chaise.

She had the urge to apologize to Molly and Angel Dust again. Particularly Molly. But she had already. And repeating those words wouldn't make any of them feel better. It wouldn't change the events.

After taking Belphegor home, she had returned here. What Molly's mother had said to her was vile. She came to remind Molly of the strong and good angel she was. To neutralize that poison. Molly had welcomed Sera's offer to hold her along with her brother while she cried.

Then there was music. Razzle amazed her. And even the reclusive fish-man Baxter had joined for a song. Then board games. Things to occupy the body and mind. Distractions and relaxation.

You tried, Molly had told her as she returned to the Hazbin Hotel. A mother's love should know no bounds. It's not your fault hers does.

Isn't it? Sera had asked. Miss Emma's hatred of angels was because of the Exterminations. The evil and trauma that she allowed Adam to inflict on this realm.

I went through the same shit down here that mom did, Angel Dust had reminded her. And Molly has lived with the same guilt about father. Neither of us are trying to stick a blade in your throat.

Angel Dust's words to his mother on the Elevator platform rang in her ears, cutting both ways.

You made your own choices. That's how Free Will works. No matter how many mitigating circumstances, you still have a choice. Even when they're all bad ones. Take responsibility for your actions.

She was taking responsibility. As best she could. I am not the same person either, Sera had told Jack. It doesn't absolve me of anything.

"Thank you," she told Molly and Angel Dust instead. "For having a place in your hearts for me."

"Of course," Molly said with a genuine smile. "You saved my brother. We're family."

---

Week Six, Day Four - The Golden Ring restaurant parking, late evening:

Octavia walked through the parking lot alongside Seviathan. It was dark, the sky having turned the color of long-dried blood. The lot was swallowed in darkness with even darker shadows.

"I mean no offense, but you possess none of the qualities I look for in a girlfriend," Seviathan told her bluntly. She appreciated the honesty, she supposed.

"That said, I have no idea what I would look for in a wife. I've never given it real thought. Which is probably part of why my father is pulling this bullshit." He looked to her. "I am deeply sorry that you got dragged into this because I am not what my father wants me to be."

"Don't. I'm not going to blame you for things your father decides to do. You are not responsible for your dad's choices. Trust me." They continued a few more steps before curiosity got the better of her. "What qualities do you want in a girlfriend?"

Seviathan grinned. "Fun, sexy, dangerous and broken."

"Wow. How could I be offended." Octavia frowned a little, supposing she really couldn't argue any of those, no matter how unflattering a picture that painted. Still, "I contest the last one."

The high beams of the limo turned on, bathing the two in her deadlights.

Octavia shielded her eyes, trying to look at the vehicle. She could barely make out the shape of a woman sitting on the hood.

Seviathan either had better flare compensating eyesight or just recognized the barely visible silhouette. "Helsa!" His tone did not sound like this was a desired encounter.

"Who?" Octavia asked as the kraken abomination hopped forward off the hood and stalked towards them.

With a sigh, Seviathan introduced, "Octavia, meet my sister. Helsa. Otherwise, unbelievably, known as Famine."

"WHO!?" That was a title she had heard.

Seviathan sighed again. "Please stop saying that. You sound like... actually, that's totally fair."

Helsa prowled into the light. "Don't worry, sweet soon-to-be sister-in-law," she said, grinning glowing stilettos. "I'm here to save your life."

"What?" Octavia asked, disoriented. At least it wasn't who.

Helsa's smile grew even more predatory. She moved around Via. "Sevvie has this little game he likes to play with his dates. I believe tonight's game is called Dinner and a Murder."

The abomination leaned close and stage-whispered into her ear, "Easiest way to get rid of a marriage you don't want is to get rid of the spouse."

Helsa flashed a sideways smirk at her brother, whispering. "Can't make this too easy."

A brief, pained look splashed Seviathan's face. "She's right."

Octavia stared as her fiance pulled an angelic-steel filigreed, blessing-tipped pistol from within his suit. The same sort of weapon that her mother had tried to have her dad assassinated with.

"Helsa is a Horseman," Seviathan said dully. "Key figure, pun intended, in the whole bullshit Final Game. Paimon wants a piece of it." He sighed. "That's all this marriage is. A power play by older generations panicking when they learn the younger one actually controls things."

Helsa smirked. "At least you're not in denial anymore, dear brother."

It's mom and dad's marriage all over again. And I'm dad.

Seviathan lifted the pistol. "So Dinner and a Murder. Get rid of the problem..."

This can't be happening.

He pointed the gun at his sister's head. "...get rid of the marriage."

Helsa did a double-take. "Wait, seriously? When did you grow balls?"

Seviathan smiled grimly. "Dad always wanted me to be more of a monster. Fratricide pads the resume." He cocked the gun. "Besides. I like Octavia. Can't say the same..."

He fired before finishing the sentence, but the tentacle was already moving towards the weapon and struck it as he made the shot.

The bullet tore a deep gash in his sister's forehead, gouging away flesh and muscle down to the bone. Black crude spilled down her face, ripe with tiny bugs.

Octavia's paralysis broke. She dove for cover as Seviathan dodged more tentacles, tossing the pistol and pulling a sword from his cane, slashing one of Helsa's tentacles in half with his swing.

Via scrambled around the nearest vehicle that wasn't a limousine. She didn't have much magic, but she'd conjured a portal before. She didn't have her dad's grimoire, but she didn't need to get to the Living World.

Get me away from these two. Someplace safe.

Octavia focused, pulling cosmic black energy from the abyss and focusing it into a portal back into the Hazbin Hotel.

---

Week Six, Day Four - Hazbin Hotel, late evening:

Everyone jumped to their feet as Crymini's friend dove with a scream through the swirling black maw that opened in the middle of the parlor.

"Via!" The scream brought Stolas and Crymini out of the nearby private room. Octavia scrambled to her father, throwing her arms around him.

Crymini growled, but not at either of them.

Through the open portal, everyone could see Seviathan dueling with Helsa in a parking lot now swarmed with black tentacles.

"This is cute, brother of mine," Helsa grinned, dodging and knocking away her brother's blade. The black and malachite limo lurched forward, slamming into Seviathan, sending him sprawling.

Helsa snarled. "But did you really think you could win against Famine?!"

One of the tentacles wrapped around Seviathan's neck and slammed him back into the hood of Famine's Horse. The metal peeled back, forming jagged teeth.

"Looks like my Horse is the one who gets dinner tonight!"

The tentacle ruptured from a blast of angelic light. Husk stood at the swirling mouth.

"STAB!" Niffty cried out, diving through the portal and running across the writing mass, her angelic steel dagger held above her.

Helsa flinched back from the voice, hissing. Then glowered at Seviathan. "Looks like our dance is being interrupted. But I'll remember this, dear brother!"

Famine summoned a portal of her own directly beneath the two of them and her Horse.

Webs lashed out, snagging Seviathan and pulling him into the Hazbin Hotel. Molly stepped over him protectively. She didn't know what was going on, but it was clear who the bad guy was.

Niffty lept, landing on Helsa's head and began stabbing, trying to drive the blade through or between the tentacles and into her skull, even as the two of them and the limo dropped into another Ring.

Niffty began to dissolve almost immediately.

Seviathan snatched her back with a tentacle of his own even as bits of Niffty flared and turned to grey, flicking away. He pulled her to his chest, wrapping his arms around her.

Stolas shifted, pulling Octavia behind him, and lifted a hand ablaze with black cosmic energy, slamming Octavia's amateur portal shut.

"OOoooooooooh! PA-A-A-AIN!" Niffty arched, screaming.

Seviathan chuckled, holding her. "Enjoy it while it lasts."

Niffty writhed in his grasp, gasping and spasming as Husk rushed to heal her. After a moment, she managed, "You have a better bungee cord than the Princess!"

"You are incredibly fuckable right now," Seviathan grinned back at her.

They laughed together. A lot. Then way too much.

Octavia stared, a painful realization flooding her. And now he's dad.

He's into someone else. I'd be the wife he was stuck with instead. Except I really could not care less if he 'cheats' on me with someone of 'lower station'. What's that say about me?

Was his plan really to dine and assassinate me? Or is his sister just that much of a bitch?

Seviathan finally looked up. "Still have my room?" he asked. "Pretty sure I just declared a side."

"I'm calling Charlie," Husk said.

---

Week Six, Day Four - Wild Horses depot, Wrath, night:

The black and malachite limousine rolled into the Wild Horses depot and came to a stop as her deadlights illuminated the large dragon and the three women standing in front of him.

The limousine's maw opened and Helsa strode out, holding herself with cocky poise despite half her body being drenched in the black oil that abominations had instead of blood.

"Oh, tonight just gets better!" Helsa cackled. "Are you here to threaten me, Charlie? Or did you come here to forgive me?"

Charlie stood in front of Razzle, her wives at her side, and answered simply, "Yes."

Helsa stared. "Seriously?" She was missing half of one of her tentacles.

Charlie nodded. "I'm here to forgive you, Helsa."

She stepped forward. "Because I cannot help others become better people if I'm not putting in the effort myself. Because holding onto this hatred of you isn't healthy. I just got married; I'm not walking into my new life carrying this poison."

"Wow," Helsa mocked. "Way to make forgiving me all about you."

"Forgiving someone is all about yourself, Helsa," Charlie replied.

Helsa cocked her head, striding forward to meet her. "I prefer making you and everyone around you suffer." She grinned, her teeth stained with black. "I hope Molly was attached to that dress."

Charlie blinked, aghast. "Wait, was that why Arackniss burned her bridesmaid gown? Because of the prom?!"

Her brow furrowed. The Princess of Hell gave her old rival a hard stare. "You are such a cunt. You do not make forgiveness easy."

Helsa leaned close. "And while you are busy forgiving, I'll be making meeting you the worst thing to ever happen to them," she promised.

Razzle rumbled warningly. Vaggie spoke up. "I don't think so."

Charlie clarified, "I'm here to forgive you. They're here to threaten you."

Helsa stepped back. "Sicking your wives on me?" She laughed nastily. "I see. You get to pretend you're above it all while you have them do your dirty work."

"Emily and I are here because we want to stop you," Vaggie told her. "Charlie's not making us do anything." With a roll of her eye, she admitted, "Although she has persuaded us to give you a chance to walk away."

Emily held up her hand, showing off her wedding ring of two fused bands. "You run an organization called The Union. You shouldn't need us to explain what a union means."

Charlie stepped forward, closing the distance that Helsa's step back had opened. "You need to stop hurting people, Helsa. Starting with the people in my hotel. Those who seek refuge with me are not your targets."

Helsa shifted her weight, giving Charlie a condescending everything. Black oozed out of her head wound. "Your mother was a lot better at this than you."

Charlie wouldn't be baited. "And that includes Seviathan and the girl," Charlie said firmly.

"Octavia," Emily amended.

"Octavia," Charlie confirmed. "They're under my protection now."

Helsa's mouth dropped open. "An hour after my dear, sweet brother tried to kill me?! You cannot be serious!"

"Forgiveness doesn't mean I'm going to allow you to continue being a villain," Charlie told her sternly. "I'm giving you this chance to stop. Maybe even... consider turning your life around. Pursue redemption?"

"We both know you won't, but the offer is open."

Emily stepped forward. "Cause any more trouble, and we will stop you."

Helsa smirked. "You and whose army?"

Vaggie answered. "Mine."

"Oh wow, that's rich!" Helsa taunted the one-eyed ex-Exorcist. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours!"

Helsa snapped her fingers. The darkness moved. She had three scores of imps in this building alone. The deadlights of her Horse caught on the weapons held by the nearest of her swarm.

Charlie looked to Vaggie.

Vaggie nodded. "Pentious, now."

The Wild Horses depot filled with light from a hundred golden Exorcists. One for each imp and dozens to spare. They had their weapons drawn. Several put blades to imp throats.

The imps stared about nervously, outnumbered. Helsa suddenly looked far less sure of herself.

"Fun fact about my army: they really are invincible," Vaggie said. "Your people can't hurt them. But they can hurt your people. Don't make that happen. The only resource you would be shorting is your own."

Charlie plead with Helsa. "I don't want any of your people getting hurt any more than I want mine to. If you insist on coming at me, Helsa, come at me directly."

Then the Princess of Hell offered, "But it would be better for everyone, including you - especially you - if you really considered getting off this path you're on."

Razzle snorted. Licks of flame danced in his nostrils.

"For now," Vaggie said, "Walk away."

Helsa considered a moment. Then started backing away towards her Horse. The imps began to draw away.

The limo's horn blared briefly. Charlie and her wives looked at each other. But the message wasn't for any of them. Even Helsa stopped, looking briefly confused.

Razzle shifted, stepping forward. He lowered his head, staring into the deadlights.

What are you to me?

Family.

No. Then he rumbled aloud, "Char-lee fam-lee."

The volume of Charlie's squee would have put air raid sirens to shame. Helsa fled the scene as much from the magnitude of the near-Charliegasm of happiness as from the threat of the Golden Exorcists. Who themselves had enough AI programming to look embarrassed.

"La hostia!" Vaggie gasped as Charlie glomped her dragon guardian. "Razzle can talk?!"

---

Week Six, Day Four - Hazbin Hotel, night:

"Well, it was by far not the worst date I've had," Seviathan noted. Niffty was sitting on his lap. He hugged her as he said, "But not the best."

"Welcome back," Angel Dust said. "Just in time for the end of the world. This ought to be fun."

Octavia stared a moment, then shook her head.

"Fencing lessons?" Crymini barked. "Cool. And just in time for the von Eldritch civil war."

"Yeah." Octavia looked aside.

"That... sounds like a fascinating hobby," her dad said encouragingly.

They had spent the last couple hours exchanging stories of the day. She wasn't the only one here going through life-upheaving crap. It was... nice to have people to talk to about it. And weird having Sevaithan be one of them.

I self-identify as a goth, but it is a whole other level to be able to say: This is my fiance. On our first date, he tried to kill his sister for me.

"Hey," Crymini said, reading her expression, "Even if Seviathan isn't a total piece of shit, what's being done to the two of you is."

"Really, really sick," Molly agreed.

The teenaged puppy demon huffed. "...For the last time, I swear, the whole fucking Ring would be on fire..."

Octavia said, "I don't believe you."

Crymini looked ready to challenge her. Via's father was swift to back her up. "You really do like expressing your anger through comparisons to arson."

"Oh, I believe that, dad," Octavia said with a slight smile. "She carries a napalm thrower." It was a little fun seeing her dad take a cautious step back.

The teen owl turned to her friend. "I just don't believe that's the last time you'll say it."

Crymini owned that. "Last time today."

Octavia wrapped her arms about her. "I... I'm going home with dad now."

"When will I see you again? Crymini asked.

"I... don't know."

Octavia sighed. "I like hanging with you Crym. You're a good friend." Her voice was rising and she wasn't sure why. "A great one, even. But this hotel? I just can't handle being in danger all of the time. Worrying I could be kidnapped or die from Heaven lasers or something all of the time."

Crymini's ears flattened and she growled threateningly, making Octavia flinch back. Her flash of anger dropped away immediately. "Oh shit, I'm sorry! I'm..."

"Not at your best. I know," Octavia said. "But after tonight? I need to feel safe. I'm sorry I'm not as brave as you." She turned away. To her father. "Let's go, dad."

Stolas wasn't going to leave it at that. He turned to Crymini. "Thank you. For being there for my Via." He smiled. "I'm sure you'll see each other again. Today has just been... a lot."

Crymini bit back another growl. "Yeah." She glanced aside, then back at him. Via was standing next to him, arms wrapped around herself. "Hey. Listen to her."

"I will. I promise."

"Don't promise. Just do it."

As Stolas conjured a portal, Niffty called out from Seviathan's lap, "Don't forget taxidermy lessons! You promised."

"You like taxidermy?" Seviathan asked, surprised. "You could be marriage material yet."

"Seviathan..." Stolas warned tiredly.

Octavia stopped. "Oh. Right." She turned to Niffty. "I won't forget. I don't break my promises."

She caught her dad's wince.

"Give her some time, Crym," Husk rumbled behind her as Octavia stepped through the portal. "She just went through a wringer. She needs time."

"Yeah, I know."

"She's wrong about this place, y'know," somebody said as her dad stepped through. Octavia thought it was Angel Dust.

"No. She's not," her friend said just as the portal closed. "That's the catch."

---

Week Six, Day Four - Belphegor's Estate, Sloth, night:

Belphegor had been asleep for hours. Sera had tried, but blessed repose eluded her. Instead, she walked the halls restlessly. Like a ghost in the mansion.

It was wise to give Husk my power. I'm clearly not fit to rule Sloth, she thought mildly.

Sera paused in the hallway outside Belphegor's bedroom for the night, then opened the door and looked in on the slumbering Sin. Belphegor was beautiful when she slept. Granted, she was beautiful all the time. And she was asleep much of it.

Sera's eye drifted to the demon's candle. It burned peacefully. Sera took time to admire how it did not set the pillows ablaze. She had made jest with Belphegor about it once.

In the Living World, I believe taking a candle into bed is considered unwise. But your fire never spreads.

That would be too much work.

The woman's flame did not burn as strongly as it did this morning. But more steadily than it had in the days following Famine's attack at the reception of Emily's wedding.

An unexpected voice spoke from the shadows behind her. "Counting sheep to fall asleep was originally a prayer to her."

Sera froze, her blood turning to ice so cold it hurt. She ceased breathing; but then, she didn't need to. The former High Seraphim could never forget that voice. Much less forgive it.

"Azrael." It was an effort not to start hyperventilating. Not breathing helped.

Sera closed the door to the bedroom and turned to face the man in the leathers and long coat, adorned with crosses and spikes of angelic steel. The Elder Above. Paying a house call in Hell.

"All the times I prayed to you - any of you - for guidance. And you come visiting me now when I don't need anything from you?" Sera scowled. But her anger gave way to fear. Death had come to Belphegor's home.

"Are you...?" She rephrased, not wanting to give voice to her dread. "Who are you here for?"

Bel was getting better!

Azrael smiled. "Be not afraid."

God damn you!

"I'm here for you," the Angel of Death told her. "And not to take you."

"Then why?" Sera asked guardedly, feeling the echoes of a world screaming and drowning just behind the mental barriers designed to keep those memories from overwhelming her. "I have no business with you. And I've heard enough of your words from Emily."

Spoken with perfect recollection. The talk with her sister at the Fair Trade Cafe had been most poignant and had left Sera indisposed most of the next day. She had even cancelled her lesson with Razzle. To her surprise, he had visited.

Sera had been distraught. Razzle comforted. She talked to him. Openly, in a way she didn't think herself capable of. It was easier with him. Razzle knew more about her now than Vaggie did.

"Because you are owed more of an explanation than you were given," Azrael said. "And I am more free to act than the rest of the Elders Above." He gave her a meaningful look.

That look became a dark stare. "And because I suspect this will be my only chance." His stare traveled to her right arm, and down to the wrist. "You are doing something supremely stupid."

Sera's eyes narrowed. The silence hung heavily until Azrael broke it.

"The Elders Above do not agree easily or often," the Angel of Death told her, much as he had told her sister when finally confronted. "There were multiple reasons for the First Purge. Something as Great as the Flood is not agreed upon with solidarity of motivation."

Sera's eyes widened. "So it was not just an attempt to wipe out evil?" Part of her felt stabbed through the heart with a blade of coldest angelic steel. The rest of her was trying to set Azrael and the Elders Above on fire for the murder of an entire world.

"For the majority, it was exactly that," Azrael stated. "Humanity was a lost cause. The Throne deemed only the zookeeper and his family salvageable." Heavily, Death added, "It wasn't enough to just kill the people. The corruption had spread into the environment."

"Tell the Throne I beg to differ," Sera snapped. "My granddaughter was salvageable!"

Azrael shook his head. "Your granddaughter grew up in a village made of mud and murder where the flax started to grow eyes. The lessons she had internalized were terminal."

Sera said nothing. What could she say to that? What could she say to Death itself?

"Listen closely, Sera. For I see a path before you that will put you in opposition to those who call Themselves my peers," Azrael warned. "There were those who voted for the First Purge specifically because of the actions of you and I."

"How have you and I ever acted in tandem?" Sera growled.

"Well, not just us," Azrael admitted. "But you and I with particular passion. I am telling you this so that when the time comes, you are not incapacitated when Gabriel pulls the Nephilim card."

Sera fought to keep the memories locked away even as she fought back tears. Still, her voice cracked as she asked, "And you? What was your reason?"

"To kill Evil," Death told her.

"You just wanted to wipe out evil?" Sera scoffed. "So almost benevolent."

"You don't understand," Death said. "I wanted to slay Evil. Evil was embodied, as I am Death."

"When evil took root in Creation through Eve's disobedience, Evil took root in Eve," Azrael explained. "It incubated within her like a cancer. It was her every intrusive thought. Slowly consuming the woman until she was little more than Evil Itself. The ultimate Infestor."

"It could not leave Creation, for It was bound to Its vessel. But It could hide Eve from even the Throne," Azrael told her.

So the only chance to kill the thing inside Eve was to kill absolutely everything everywhere?

And worse, it didn't work! The numbing cold was replaced with heart-rending revulsion.

You vainglorious bastard. You are so enamored with yourself that you sacrificed the world for a chance to Exterminate the root of sin Itself. But you cannot kill Evil with evil any more than you can kill Death with death! It's like trying to drown water!

Despite all the death at her feet, and it was a mountain of murdered souls, she herself had never wished for the end of another's existence. In this moment, she would not have raised a finger to save Azrael. Not that even an Exorcist blade would kill him.

"It has been a personal mission that I have recently been able to resolve," Azrael stated. "Which has freed me to give you the gift of this knowledge, and the warning that came with it."

"Thank you, Azrael," Sera said measuredly. "I'll prepare myself accordingly."

It helps to know that, as many and horrible my sins, I can no longer berate myself as the worst of all angels. At this moment, I'm not even the worst one in Hell.

Azrael gave a pointless little bow and vanished through a pale portal. Sera waited a moment, dropping her form and opening all of her eyes to assure herself that the Angel of Death was gone. Then turned and swiftly checked on Belphegor once more.

Her candle still burned.

Sera moved to the bed and slid into it, wrapping the slumbering Sin in an embrace as the barriers crumbled.

---

Week Six, Day Four - Baxter's Laboratory, night?:

"The Horse of Famine called you family?"

Razzle nodded.

Baxter shook his head, his lure bobbing. "It doesn't surprise me that Famine's Horse would have as warped a concept of family as Famine herself does." He waved that off.

"Pay her no heed. Family are the people that you take in. They are the people you care about and who care about you," Baxter said. "Love creates family, not blood and genetics. I can create life. I cannot create a family. If you and Dazzle had been separated at Creation and never knew each other, you'd no more have been family than the Hand of Famine and his siblings."

Razzle could not disagree. Dazzle had been family. Charlie was family. Charlie's mother and father felt like family, despite no kinship of blood. Beyond them, Sera and Baxter were his friends. And that made them feel like family too.

"Why?" Razzle asked. Speaking was new to him. He understood all the words and how they should sound. He was adept at note and tone. But it was still strange and difficult. Like using a muscle he had never known he had. That he didn't have until this morning.

"Why?" Baxter wasn't like Sera. He didn't just understand. Razzle tried to clarify. "Why... say fam-lee?"

Baxter ah'ed. "Why did Famine's Horse claim you were family." Razzle nodded again.

"Because in Her perception, family is nothing more than connected origin. She would probably consider drops of acid rain family if they fell from the same cloud."

Razzle cocked his head and waited, hoping the anglerfish friend would elaborate without needing him to strain through asking. The silence stretched.

"Did you teach Sera to play the piano by having her not practice?" Baxter finally asked.

Razzle knew he should have heard that coming. "Why... con-neck?"

"You can do better than that," Baxter urged. "Try again."

"Why... say... I con-neck-ed?" That, thankfully, was good enough for Baxter today.

The anglerfish scientist answered, "Because I guided Lucifer to Create you and Dazzle from a sample I took off the Horse of War."

---

Week Six, Day Four - Morning Wood Inn & Suites, Lust, night:

"Should I start calling you the Leader of the Golden Exorcist Army?" Charlie teased, caressing Vaggie's neck as Emily led them out onto the roof of the hotel.

"Don't you dare."

Forgiveness and the offer to let Helsa stand down had been Charlie's own idea. Everything else had been Vaggie's. Using Adam's backup dancers as an army. Arriving on Razzle - the dragon who took down Famine's Hand. Vaggie had even figured out where Helsa would be. From, apparently, a conversation at the market that morning.

Between this and watching Emily in Court today, as well as her plans to use the alliance with Carmine Industries to share Heaven's bounty with Hell?

Charlie was in awe. Her wives were amazing.

Charlie stopped, looking around. The roof sported a large private hot tub and cabana-style style shelters with stained-glass ceilings. Some included tables and chairs. One included a very large, heart-shaped waterbed. There was a bar, well stocked but lacking a Husk. In fact, they were alone up here. Something Ozzie had arranged.

"Up here?" Charlie questioned. "Wait. Somebody could see!"

Vaggie turned to her, taking her hands and pulling her into the rain. "This is the tallest building shy of Asmodeus' tower," Vaggie smirked. "And we'll be under a roof. I think we're safe."

They would be focusing on Emily tonight. There was no fear of literally collapsing the skyscraper.

"Ozzie could be watching. Or Fizzarolli," Charlie protested, although she already knew she had lost. How was Vaggie more open to this than she was? "Oh! Or Heaven!"

"Let them watch!" Emily said excitedly.

---

Week Six, Day Four - Asmodeus' Tower, Lust, seven minutes to midnight:

Asmodeus felt it before he saw it. Like a rolling wave, crashing into him, setting his nerves alight. It was invigorating. Intoxicating. And yet pure.

It filled him until he exploded. Hard enough to knock him down to his knees.

"Ozzie?" Fizzarolli asked, alarmed.

The room lit up with brilliant, bright cyan light. The color matched Ozzie's flame, but the light came from outside. Briefly blinding, then focusing upwards in a massive pillar of blue fire, thrusting upwards into the ever falling rain.

Fizzarolli held Azmodeus and stared out the window in wonder and trepidation. "Holy fuck!"