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.

6. In the Days of Famine

Chapter Five

In the Days of Famine...

(Day Six - Part One)

Week One, Day Six - Hazbin Hotel, midnight:

Emily moved like a ghost down the second floor hallway, illuminated briefly by the flicker of light as the golden portal vanished.

"Would you look at the hour," Alastor said, causing her to jump like a teenager caught sneaking back after curfew. "Was your visit to Heaven fruitful?"

The young seraphim recovered. "I'm the High Seraphim. I go to Heaven all the time."

"True," the Radio Demon said as he stepped out of the shadows. He wasn't carrying his microphone tonight. Instead, his arms bore a leather-bound book older than he was. "But you don't normally come sneaking back. Either you've learned something you don't want to talk about," he suggested. "Or you've been naughty."

Her eyes widened before she brought her demeanor under control. So she had learned something. Good.

"I'm not sneaking," Emily insisted. "It's late. I'm being quiet because I don't want to wake anybody."

"Fair enough," Alastor said. He'd gotten what he wanted. "In that case, would you mind doing me a little favor?"

That got a look from the angel, curious and concerned. She was aware of the Favor chain he had on one of her soon-to-be wives. "Just a normal favor," he insisted. "Nothing that involves chains."

"I don't make chains. I break them."

Feisty. Useful. "Please give this to Charlie," Alastor said, holding out the book.

Emily took the book, tilting it to read the title stamped into the cover leather: Book of the Loa.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Understanding," Alastor smiled enigmatically.

"Thanks." Emily rolled her eyes. "The moment I asked, I expected your answer to be: a book."

She took the book protectively, looking at him to see if he had anything else to say. If he let this drag, she would start looking a little more closely than he cared for right now.

"Good night, Emily," he told her.

"Good night, Alastor." The angel started to turn away, but stopped abruptly, staring as radio distortion crackled and the Radio Demon spoke once more.

As he sank away in shadow, he told her, "I would ask you not to disappoint me. But you will."

---

Week One, Day Six - Roo Shit House, midnight:

Fire snapped and crackled as it licked along the charred skeleton of the rafters. The inferno that had voraciously consumed the Roo Shit House had slowed. Like a great Hellbeast, now well fed, preparing to slumber.

Crymini sat on the decaying rooftop where Cherri Bomb had stood, firing a rocket, not four days ago. Her legs dangled over the crumbling ledge. The eye growing out of the wall below was turned upwards. She suspected it was trying to look up her skirt. Joke's on it; she was wearing Cherri Bomb jeans.

Across a chasm of darkness between them, the flames from the Roo Shit pyre rose languidly into Hell's midnight sky. She wondered if the smoke reached the pentagram above. She looked into the sky, but she couldn't see Heaven from here. She was looking in the wrong direction.

The slight wind brought a rotting smell pungent enough to make her gag.

Crymini pulled back from the ledge as her stomach churned. She could taste rising bile. Even for the Doomsday District, that was bad.

Her left ear twitched as she heard the approach. Not footsteps on the crumbling rooftop. The stranger's steps made no sound. Rather, it was the buzzing of the flies.

Crymini turned, trying to push herself up to her feet. But her stomach twisted painfully as the smell assaulted her again, bringing tears to her eyes. She put her hand down to brace herself. Her palm didn't meet the grungy solidity of the rooftop but squished into the eye that had opened in the cracks of the masonry.

Crymini reflexively clawed at it, and the eye exploded into squelchy ichor that bathed her paw. The scent from it was rank and cloying, adding a vomitous note to the rotting smell as the woman approached.

Crymini steadied herself with her other arm. She hadn't heaved yet. She'd lived for decades in the Doomsday District. She'd be lying to say she had smelled worse, but she had smelled a lot.

The puppy demon looked up at the stranger. Her visage was shadowed by night and blurred by Crymini's tears. Little more than a silhouette against the pentagram.

Crymini instinctively moved to wipe the tears from her eyes, but stopped with a revolted cringe as her eyes flicked to her dripping paw. She did not want to get that rancid ichor anywhere near her face.

"Hello Crymini."

It looked like a woman. Wearing an absurdly wide-brimmed hat and a trenchcoat like some PCP-fueled Carmen Sandiego nightmare. But something in the back of her brain screamed violently that what was hidden in that coat wasn't a woman. Or a demon. It was an abomination.

And it knew her name.

"Who the fuck are you?" Crymini snarled, shifting her feet beneath her, crouching, ready to launch herself. Either at this thing pretending to be a cartoon reject, or out of its reach.

What the fuck are you?

The eyes all over the rooftop turned their gaze on her.

The not-a-woman stopped before her, crouched and leaned close. Black veins pulsed on her face in the shape of runes carved in the abyss. She smiled with mouths inside her mouth, ringed with teeth like packed thorns.

"I'm that Roo Shit."

Crymini found herself unable to leap. Unable to move at all. Unable to even blink as the stranger reached out towards her.

"And you have something I want."

---

Week One, Day Six - Dead Angels Inn, Imp City, midnight:

This room was filthy!

Niffty pulled out her duster and immediately got to work.

"Niffty, this isn't Charlie's hotel," Lute said, watching her. "This place has their own maid." Under her breath, the one-armed woman added, "Presumably."

"Then she's terrible!" Niffty protested. She rushed to the window, pulling back the curtains to reveal the neon sign for the Dead Angels Inn - a squiggly image of a female angel, presumably an Exorcist, skewered on multiple spears. The neon for the angel was yellow. The spears were each different colors and lit up in sequence, creating a shifting prism of intrusive light that caught on the cobwebs.

Niffty started cleaning the cobwebs from the corners or the windowsill.

"Again, I commend you on your choice of accommodations," Lute said drolly. "Did they recently remodel, or were they always optimistic?"

"We're only here for a few hours," Velvette told her. "Get some rest, refresh, be ready to meet with Arackness." She walked in and tossed her purse and motorcycle helmet on a bed, claiming it. There were only two. "Not going in assuming the Union killed Valentino. But going in assuming Val fucked things up before he died, so we're making a corrective second impression."

Niffty spotted Lute moving for the small table and chair wedged into one corner. In an instant, she was across the room, cleaning both before Lute sat down.

"Thanks," the friendly, non-stabbable angel-demon said. Niffty looked up and gave her a smile. Then spotted another cobweb on the ceiling above her. The woman let Niffty climb up her to reach it. She was strong and stable. Better than a ladder.

She also wanted to make people bloody more than anyone else in the hotel except Alastor. Lute was playful. Niffty liked that.

Lute began pulling things out and tossing them on the table. Niffty recognized each of them. The key to her room at the Hazbin Hotel. The key to this one. Niffty's eyes widened when Lute took out the Love Potion that she had given her for Lutino. Then a clear plastic bag. Inside was an ice pack and an IV bag. The one with some of Charlie's blood in it that Husk kept in the fridge under the bar.

"Does this room have a refrigerator?" Lute asked. "A working one?"

"Over there," Velvette pointed, not looking. "Beneath the complimentary booze." Two bottles of Alpha Bitch sat on the dresser.

Niffty scurried over to the fridge to make sure it was sufficiently clean. To her surprise, it was. Cool too. Her opinion of this hotel's maid went up just a tiny bit.

Niffty watched the Love Potion disappear back into Lute's possession. It gave her an idea. In a moment, the cleaning was abandoned to the inferior maid and Niffty jumped face-first onto the second bed. The bedspread smelled, but only a little. Like the room hadn't been used in a few weeks and needed a light turn. Further reassessment of the maid. The spiders here were probably really aggressive. She wondered if Angel Dust knew any of them.

Niffty rolled over and pulled out her new cell phone. A few taps and it was speed dialing.

"Hey, tentacle queen!" said the voice from her phone.

"Sevvie!" Niffty replied. "Guess where I am!"

"Got me curious. Where?"

"I'm inside Dead Angels!"

At his response, she had to disappoint. "I wish! No, that's just the name of the hotel..."

---

Week One, Day Six - Charlie's, Vaggie's and Emily's bedroom, minutes past midnight:

The Elders Above said it was a mercy.

Vaggie turned away from Charlie as she disrobed. The pretense of modesty wasn't going to fly, but it kept her partner from seeing the haunted look in her eye as the conversation with Sera kept playing through her head.

They sent an Elder Above after me. It was the only time I spoke with one. Azrael.

Vaggie felt a cold sweat break out over her skin as she peeled off her bra.

Sera personally signed off on centuries of horrific bloodshed. A genocide that Vaggie herself helped enact. No tragic backstory would wash clean that blood from either of them. Not even Floodwater.

But Vaggie understood now. Even if nobody else did. She saw Sera (her soon-to-be sister-in-law), and it felt like the world had changed.

There was a coldness. Like she was submerged and should be drowning. But she had forgotten she needed to breathe.

"Hey, Vaggie?" Charlie's voice cut through her thoughts. "Want to shower together, or continue to wait for Emily?"

Azrael destroyed her body as I wailed.

"Oh! Uh... I don't know," Vaggie said, failing to mentally switch tracks. She turned, standing only in her panties, to face her wife. (In one month, that will be official!) "What do you want to do?"

Charlie's brow creased with concern. "Vaggie, are you all right?"

Vaggie looked aside.

The Flood was a horror. The darkest day in the history of Heaven. But the feelings being triggered felt deeper and more personal.

You know him. You love him!

The puddle of a voice, the half-remembered dredge of a dream.

What the fuck!?

It was Adam's voice. The words were familiar, but she couldn't place them. Like half a lyric from a forgotten childhood song. Except it wasn't nostalgia. The emotions that felt connected to it were all bad.

Charlie was staring at her, looking worried.

"I don't know, hon," Vaggie admitted. "I don't think so."

---

Week One, Day Six - Roach Hole, Imp City, minutes past midnight:

"...So I was given a few extra days off from The Bondage Club to get my shit sorted," Angel Dust said as Husk brought back another round of beers. Far better fare than the canned swill from a First Circle convenience store. The boys had promised, and they delivered.

Roach Hole was a dive bar because if you're in Hell, why not dig down? The atmosphere was worn and vaguely oppressive. Enough that Molly had put on the maroon hoodie she brought just to cover her halo. The spider-angel could at least pretend that the chair she was sitting on wasn't crusted with anywhere near the layers of filth that the table was. The table top was a mosaic of past meals, eaten sloppily, mixed with ashes and dried bodily fluids that had set and been polished into a slightly tacky surface.

"Owners are happy," her twin brother said, so completely unfazed by their surroundings that Molly could tell the place wasn't chosen just to gross sis out. "No reason to suspect trouble following me to work again. Not that some of the other workers don't have shit of their own, but Overlord trouble is different."

Molly nodded, listening. She had been horrified at the full story, joining in his sentiment with her own thank Heaven we're spiders!

"Um... I'm going to ask something... maybe a little rude," Molly eased in. "But what kinda name is The Bondage Club?"

"Asks the angel," her brother challenged. "Do you even have BDSM in Heaven?"

Molly opened all her eyes just so she could roll them. "Are you sure you're Italian? Our ancestors perfected self-flagellation... and then, as angels, learned it's much more fun when someone you trust does it for you," she teased, making a whip-cracking motion with one hand.

From his look, Anthony couldn't tell if she was pulling his leg or not. But he recognized wrist-work in that playful motion signaled experience. She couldn't help but giggle as her brother shook his head to rid himself of that mental image.

"It originally had another, fancier name: Sampson & Delilah's Dungeon of Delight. But everyone just called it the bondage club," Angel Dust finally told Molly.. "So when they rebranded, they made it official."

Husk rumbled, "I'd wondered about that."

Molly eyed the plate of fried somethings that Anthony had ordered with the meal. She hadn't recognized the name; but she didn't ask, figuring she'd recognize the food when it got to the table. That was a mistake. Whatever was hidden in the balls of congealed grease was foreign, mysterious and may have still been alive.

Angel Dust skewered one on an oversized toothpick, then sucked it off into his mouth. It crunched when he chewed.

"So, Molls, I never asked what it is you do in Heaven," Angel Dust asked casually, passing the conversational baton. "Or did, I guess, since you're working for the Embassy now."

Husk offered, "I heard she holds orgies."

"Other than that," Angel Dust said, giving the winged cat-demon a look. "I mean, it can't all be orgies and sitting on fluffy clouds eating ice cream, right?"

"Oh, I did what you do!"

Anthony asked doubtfully, "Taught safe BDSM and modeled bondage gear?"

"I taught sex ed for new angels." Well, he asked.

"Pffft!" Husk thankfully hadn't just taken a swig this time. "Seriously?"

Molly nodded. "Yep. Being an angel comes - don't make the joke - with miraculous benefits. You know, things like simultaneous orgasms, kink sharing, and even that mirror thing seraphim do."

"I had a little practice where I would help angels that wanted to live their best sexual afterlife," she told them. "Sometimes, that was getting past reservations, but mostly it was teaching them how to use their innate gifts and giving them tools to help find partners they would be happy with."

Molly decided to brave Hell cuisine. It was beginning to feel like a sibling challenge. She took her own giant toothpick off the napkin she had placed it on to avoid contact with the table, jabbed it into one of the grease balls, and sucked it into her mouth with a level of skill that did not rival her brother's but should still make him proud.

It was decadently disgusting. She caught the textures of chitin and wing within the gooey meat interior. She'd never felt so spider. One swallow later, she continued.

"Oh, and yes, roughly once a month, I'd hold an orgy at my villa. We top out at three hundred - I simply don't have the space for more - but I'll make sure to give you an invite if either of you get into Heaven."

Husk put down his beer. "One: that's not happening. Two: are you fucking serious?"

Her brother stared. "Three... hundred?"

Molly giggled and lifted her arms, tossing out a WHOO! "You'd be surprised what can happen when you get that much angelic energy flowing in one place!"

Husk chuckled. "When Emily said you held orgies, she downplayed it."

Angel Dust shook his head. "I think you've had more sex than me."

"It's not like I have sex with every single person at an orgy!" Molly laughed and punched him in an arm.

Husk chuckled. "A few weeks ago, he'd have locked up at the idea."

Angel Dust waved that off. "No, at this point, my sister and sex have gone way past blue screen and wrapped around to just being proud of her. Besides, speaking as someone in the sex industry, I can tell you it's not all fucking. Monthly orgies are impressive."

Molly nodded. "There's a lot that goes into them. I'm the hostess. I arrange catering for everything I don't make myself. I perform an opening musical number to get people in the mood, which means days of rehearsal and stage prep. All the fun little organizing necessary to make it happen."

Husk suggested, "The clean-up afterwards?"

Molly rolled all of her eyes at him. "Everything in Heaven cleans itself. But there's a lot of tidying up after, yes."

"Okay, now I'm with Niffty. That really sells Heaven." Anthony groaned theatrically. "We spend at least an hour each night after closing time cleaning The Bondage Club. Sometimes up to three. Using blacklights to be thorough. And let me tell you, doesn't always pay to be the tall one."

Husk said, "You know, I'd be curious to see one of your performances." At Angel Dust's sharp stare, Husk clarified, "The musical performances you talked about setting a stage for. Back when I was alive, I dabbled in magic - not real magic, stage magic. Did performances at a casino. I was pretty good. Enough to earn a living, although I always wanted to be better. Loved watching the guys who were."

Molly perked. "Oh, we should do a show together sometime! You'd be amazed what you can do with properly prepped webbing. My numbers are like seductive Cirque du Soleil!"

Husk blinked. "You have webbing."

"Well duh. Spider!"

"Where would that come...?" Husk began to ask before her brother cut him off.

"Nope! Time to change the subject."

---

Week One, Day Six - Charlie's, Vaggie's and Emily's bedroom, after midnight:

"Azrael. The Angel of Death. Is missing. From the Throne."

Vaggie said the words slowly. As if making sure with each one there wasn't a fundamental misunderstanding.

Emily nodded, assuring her wife that she had heard correctly.

Emily was in full seraphim form, mostly for the purpose of rolling her eyes in exasperation. Isn't this something the High Seraphim should have been told about? Emily stomped her foot cutely. "Ugh! I hate secrets!"

Charlie looked shocked. She held the Book of the Loa like a child would hold a stuffed animal for comfort. "I suspected angels might be missing. But one of the Elders Above?" These had been their Dad's bosses. The ones who banished Lucifer from Heaven. Who ordered him and Lilith cast down into Hell.

The ones who cast down Sera. Except Azrael apparently wasn't involved in that. Because he was missing!

"W-well, I guess we know who Death is." Vaggie said, her eyes shifting. Vaggie looked uncomfortable. It made Emily want to hug her. Made her want to know what was wrong. In that order.

"Vaggie?" Charlie stared at her, eyes wider than before. "What makes you say that?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Vaggie questioned. "I mean, you wanted to know about angels who had disappeared the same time your mother did. If your mother is Conquest, and the one missing angel is the Angel of Death... then we are actually considering the classic Horsemen of the Apocalypse, aren't we?" Vaggie held out her hands. "I don't feel like I'm jumping to a conclusion here."

Before Charlie could say more, Vaggie turned. "Hey, Em?" Vaggie asked, "By any chance, can you miracle up a way to jar loose an angel's not-so-perfect memory?"

"Maybe?" Emily answered hopefully. "I've never tried that. But I have plenty of experience walling off my own memories so they don't mess with me at bad times. So I kinda know how they hide. Why?"

Vaggie stared at her with trepidation. "I think... I've met Azrael."

What?!

"Wait, Vaggie... what?" Charlie asked, putting the gift from Alastor aside. "You've met the Angel of Death?" She paused. "Was it when you crashed your car?"

Emily's eyes went wide. A lot of them. "Vaggie, I've never met an Elder Above!"

Emily couldn't keep out the tiniest petulant tone. She was the High Seraphim, for Heaven's sake! Yet the Elders Above never talked to her. Well, except that once which she can't even remember. It was one thing if They just never had any contact with those below Them at all. But if They were popping down willy-nilly to hang with angels, Emily thought she and Sera deserved better.

"I... no. I'm pretty sure it wasn't then." Vaggie shook her head. "Yeah I know, you'd think that would be something I'd remember."

Wait, was Vaggie remembering her Judgment? Azrael would still have been in Heaven when Vaggie stood before the Throne.

Vaggie turned to Charlie. "I don't, but talking with Sera brought back... something. And if I'm right, it was from my early years as an Exorcist. I was not in anything close to a stable mental state back then, and I've repressed a lot of shit from that time."

Charlie winced. That changed things. "Vaggie, if this isn't something you're comfortable remembering, I won't push you to."

Vaggie shook her head, her tone both determined but reluctant. "No, babe. If it could be helpful..." She trailed off.

"Okay, Vaggie." Emily banished her Heavenly raiment. "Let me see if I can help."

"Thanks, Em," Vaggie said, breathing a nervous sigh. Then she raised her eyebrow. "And you're doing this naked because?" She gave Emily an affectionate smile. She wasn't complaining.

"I need to shower," Emily replied, smiling as she found her happiness again. "So do you. And I figured I might as well try this while we shower together. That way, if it doesn't work, at least I'll be able to get you clean."

Charlie smiled at the two of them. Her eyes shifted towards the book from Alastor in a moment of consideration. But really, there was only one choice. "I'll join you."

Charlie giggled as she spotted black fur darting along the floor. "Keekee's already volunteered to play lifeguard."

---

Week One, Day Six - Streets of Imp City, after midnight:

Husk was in the lead. Just a quick walk to the hotel. Razzle had gone ahead with the limo and would be waiting for them. Booze wasn't part of the little goat-dragon's diet, and the Roach Hole wasn't in a neighborhood you left a bicycle unattended, much less a limo.

A few blocks through Imp City after midnight. Not a problem for two of them, but he was keeping an eye on Angel's angel sister. The closest of the background violence sounded blocks away, but it could still manage to spill into the street.

Molly glanced in the direction of screams and gunfire. "I get why you were nervous. Compared to Heaven, Hell is a nightmare of violence, toxicity and stress."

Husk barely noticed the body sprawled on the broken sidewalk as he stepped over it. He was more focused on his own equilibrium. He had purposefully limited himself to a single mug of beer. He was the designated pseudo-seraphim here.

The spider angel paused at the body. Out of the corner of his eye, Husk saw her start to squat down, reaching out as if to check for a pulse, but then drew back upright. Hopefully cognizant of the reasons not to. Molly scuttled around the body before her brother noticed. "But I was human once, and I've been to Detroit..."

"When the fuck did you ever go to Detroit?" Angel Dust scowled, looking back at her. "Why?"

Molly brushed aside the question. "Besides, I think Hell's more scared of me than I am of it."

Husk laughed as the angel caught back up to walk beside them. "What makes you think that?"

"Welllllll," Molly gave an exaggerated pondering, "If I am to believe Emily, Hell has a fetish for stripping angels." She scurried forward, putting some extra sway in her hips. "And yet here I am, still fully clothed. Clearly too much of a sexually positive woman for Hell to handle." She turned and winked. "A shame too. I was looking forward to what it came up with."

"You are tempting fate there, Molls."

"Pfft! We're almost to the hotel," Molly countered. "Seriously, if all I get is a shower scene, Hell's a coward."

Husk saw Angel Dust tense. The spider demon's pupils dilated slightly. Then he relaxed.

Husk traced his friend's gaze. A small crowd of demons, deep in gossip, none of them paying any attention to the trio. None of them familiar. Mostly imps, along with a hellhound and a particularly tall bat-demon. Husk looked back at Angel Dust with confusion.

"Sorry," Angel Dust said. "For just a moment, I thought I saw... Nevermind."

"Valentino?" Husk surmised.

Angel Dust groaned. "The fucker's dead. But I still keep expecting him to show up. Or start sending me another string of texts." He shook his head as Molly reached out and took two of his arms. "It's worse now than when I was freed. What the fuck?"

Husk grumbled. "Makes sense."

"How does that make sense?" Angel Dust challenged.

The winged feline replied, "The last thing that fucker did was send someone to your work to kill you. You told me how he reacted when you moved out of the tower. Last month, after you were free, he showed up at the hotel and tried to put a bullet in you." Husk watched Angel Dust scowl while Molly's expression grew more alarmed. "Seems to me, Valentino had a real aversion to letting you have anything resembling a safe space."

Angel Dust groaned, understanding. "He made it a mistake to feel safe. And now that he's dead, everyplace is safe from him. So no place feels safe."

"Anthony..." Molly whispered.

Angel Dust laughed. "I'd say my life sucks, but even with this shit, my life's pretty damn good. I'm free. I have friends. Family. Even a shot at Heaven." Another laugh. "Hell, one of our moms is the High Seraphim. One that isn't sending armies after us."

Molly let out a little squeak. "What?"

Husk put consoling Angel Dust on hold to raise an eyebrow. What part of that was unclear?

Angel Dust stopped laughing and sighed. "If Val's going to keep haunting me, maybe I should look into that therapy stuff."

Molly nodded, her face etched with worry. "You really should. Believe me, it helps a lot."

Angel Dust put two of his hands on the ones holding his arms. Showing appreciation. Then peeling them off.

She was quiet a moment before asking in a soft voice. "What did you mean about mom?"

"Huh?" Angel Dust looked confused for a moment. "Oh. That's a hotel thing. Cherri and Crymini started it. We're a family, and the throuple are our moms."

Husk chuckled. "It's catching on."

"Oh." Molly exchanged her worried expression for a smile. "That's wonderful. Wait, does this mean I dated my hotel sister-in-law?"

Angel Dust held up two hands in brief protest. "Let's not take this make-believe too far." That got a giggle out of his sister.

After a beat, he added, "Although I guess my real mom is probably an angel. Just not the High Seraphim."

Molly's smile faded. She looked away.

Angel Dust stopped and turned to her. "Molls?"

Molly looked up at him. "Mom's not in Heaven, Anthony."

---

Week One, Day Six - Dead Angels Inn, Imp City, after midnight:

Lute sat at the hotel room's shoddy table and stared into the glow of the Love Potion. The shifting neon light from the sign outside cast different highlights on the glass. Niffty had finished her phone call and was browsing Velvette's fanfiction website on her phone.

Velvette finally stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in a fancy cloth bathrobe. She had finished her shower the better part of an hour ago. But she hadn't left the room until her makeup was on and her hair was perfect.

"Whoa, somebody was a big spender," Velvette boasted when she saw the Love Potion. "That's top shelf."

So Hell had premium date rape drugs. Lute wasn't surprised. "Let me guess: wipes your common sense and makes you super horny? Or does it just knock you out?"

Velvette looked mock-offended. "Girl, that's not some glorified roofie. You can get that from anyone. Velvette's Love Potion is the real deal."

Lute's eyes widened. She looked at the glowing contents in the bottle with new concern. "This makes you actually fall in love?"

"Like advertised," Velvette insisted. "Sure, lust is part of the package," she admitted. "That's what customers want. And while it won't change your basic orientation, if the person you fall for falls outside that, they will become the exception for you."

Velvette walked over and stroked the bottle. "That's part of the sell. But love is the real draw." She pulled her hand back when Lute looked at it, seeming momentarily self-conscious.

"You thought I was giving you a rape drug?!" Niffty cried out.

Lute's eyes couldn't meet her friend's one. "Well... yes."

Niffty looked crushed.

Lute forced herself. "Sorry." An uncomfortable step farther. "I should have trusted you more."

Niffty huffed and turned away. To Lute, the little woman looked like she was debating whether to forgive her for this transgression.

Lute groaned inside. Wasn't she still right? If anything, this just made it a skeezier one.

Velvette seemed to catch what she was thinking. "Sure, some people get off on having their vics actually feel for them. But the vast majority of customers are using it on themselves."

Lute couldn't keep the disbelief from her face. Despite that being exactly the situation this particular bottle had been purchased for.

Velvette shook her head. "You can't imagine how many people have fallen out of love with their partner, and would give anything to have that feeling back."

"Customers trying to bury fidelity issues. Or trapped in arranged marriages. Some people feel like they need to be in love with someone or they'll lose everything. Most of them are right." the social media Overlord espoused as she conjured a changing screen. "Others are just desperate to feel love at all. From folks in the Aro or Ace crowd looking to capture that part of the human experience they're missing to losers who never had any real romantic prospects to begin with."

Losers like me? Lute found herself thinking.

But that wasn't true. She had been in a relationship with someone she loved. She knew that was true... even if she was the only one left who still believed it.

"I was in love," Lute stated. Then shook her head, laughing at herself. "The last thing Adam said to me? Called me a stupid bitch."

"Were you?" Velvette asked as she stepped behind the screen. It was translucent, leaving her a silhouette.

The question wrenched a short laugh out of the fallen Exorcist. "Yes," Lute said firmly. "I am a bitch. And I had just stated the incredibly obvious. Not my finest moment." She smiled briefly. A wry, pained smile. But a smile nonetheless.

Behind the screen, Velvette snapped her fingers, the bathrobe instantly replaced with a whole new outfit.

"Niffty and her boyfriend got this for me," Lute said, her gaze returning to the bottle. "She thought the only way I could find love was with a potion. With Valentino."

Velvette scoffed as she stepped out, "Woman, you can do better than Valentino."

"Not if she keeps rejecting every other ship!" Niffty protested from her bed.

Lute rolled her eyes at that. Then noted to Velvette, "Doesn't sound like you had a lot of love for the dearly departed." Ironic that her new outfit had a valentine motif - white dress with red hearts and a complementing duster with a high collar.

Velvette shrugged. "Who did? Vox was fucking him and even he didn't like Val."

At Lute's stare, Velvette gave a huff. "Valentino was a business partner. And frankly, not a good one. Sure, he brought in the money and the Contracts. But he was a big, stupid liability that was going to get us all fucked."

Lute raised an eyebrow.

"Take it from someone with an ego bigger than our tower," the self-proclaimed Queen Bitch sighed and rolled her eyes. "If you're going to be a narcissist, at least be better than the idiots you surround yourself with. I have models smarter than Val was."

Velvette had turned away from her, but Lute sensed that the woman was fishing for a response. There was no way Velvette actually cared what Lute thought of her, so Lute figured Velvette was looking for something to judge her on.

"I fell in love with Adam," Lute replied. "You think I'm turned off by a healthy ego?"

"Ha! I like you." Velvette banished the changing screen.

"I like her too," Niffty said from the bed.

Did that mean she was forgiven? Lute looked over at Niffty in surprise, and got a little glower in return. That would be a no.

Velvette answered the unspoken question. "Doing all this anyway because Valentino was one of the Vees. And everyone needs to know you don't fuck with the Vees without getting fucked back."

That was interesting. Lute filed that away for later. For now, she turned back to the bottle of glowing liquid. Contemplating.

"I wouldn't," Velvette finally said.

"Why?"

"It doesn't last," the Overlord admitted.

Lute knew there was a catch. Angel Dust had warned her: Don't. It's fake. It won't last. And do you really want to risk Vaggie being the person you're looking at when it kicks in?

This was Hell. "I'm guessing it's addictive too?"

"Doesn't have to be," Velvette told her. "Love is. Most of my customers for it are repeat customers. And will be for a long time."

"Oh!" Niffty scowled. "That sucks then!" The little Japanese maid turned to Lute. "I didn't know that. I'm sorry."

"I don't advertise that part," Velvette said.

"You forgive me, I forgive you," Lute offered. "How's that sound?"

That wasn't the way forgiveness was supposed to work, but Lute didn't care. She'd already forgiven either way.

Niffty nodded eagerly.

---

Week One, Day Six - Bleeding Knife Motel, after midnight:

Razzle flew up to greet them as they checked into their room.

Molly was looking around with apprehension. "Is this really the best hotel you could find?" she asked nervously.

"What's wrong with this place?" Angel Dust asked her. He kept the nasty emotions he was feeling beneath his mask. He was usually very good at that. But this was Molly.

Molly gave him a look. "It's called the Bleeding Knife Motel? On a street named Murder Alley? Its advertised features include free VoxTek service and three locks per door?"

"If you're picky about names," Husk grumbled, "You would have liked the other option even less."

"It's got character," Angel Dust insisted. "Hey, at least it's clean. And look, adjoining rooms."

Molly retorted, "I think its character got shanked in the night." The angel eyed the door to the next room. "Terrific, I get to sleep here in a room alone."

Angel Dust's eyes widened a moment. Nope, that wasn't going to happen.

"Don't worry," Husk said, eyeing the wallpaper. "Just shout if you need us. I'm sure these walls are thin enough we'll hear each other just fine."

"Fuck that," Angel Dust told his sister. "Razzle will be staying with you."

Razzle nodded.

"Oh." Molly's eyes darted to the two beds in the room. "I thought... Nevermind. Sure."

Molly thought I was sleeping with Husk and the other bed was for Razzle.

Husk clearly got the same message. "We're not sleeping together. Seriously." He began unpacking his bags, tossing things in the dresser. Razzle had seen all of their luggage to their rooms while the three were out at the bar. Husk stopped. "Hey, are you all right?"

"Peachy," Angel Dust replied a bit too sharply. Angel Dust had sat on what Molly had said about their mother for the few blocks it took to get to the motel. But the longer he waited to ask, the more upset he felt inside.

"Anthony?" Molly pressed.

"Mom didn't get in?" Angel Dust asked abruptly, angrily. "I mean, I know dad must be down here. And by now, Jonathan too. But mom?" He thrust out his hands. "What kind of entrance exam does Heaven have if mom couldn't get in?"

Molly winced back at her twin brother's rant. She hung her head a little, her wings drooping, and practically looked at him through her halo. "Anthony... you don't get into Heaven dying the way mom did."

He stared at her. What the fuck!?

The spider angel sighed fretfully. "I was kinda hoping you would know where she is..." She looked around. "...down here. I would have liked to see her."

"Well, I don't. I never looked for her down here," Angel Dust snapped. "I never imagined I'd have to." He drew back as he began to register the hurt in his sister's eyes. "What happened?"

Beside him, Husk remained absolutely silent.

"She killed herself," Molly said simply. The words hit him in the gut. They made Husk flinch. Razzle squeaked.

Worse, it didn't really surprise him. He remembered what she had been like after he and Jonathan took up the family business. How she'd just... faded, a bit more every day.

Molly's next words merely confirmed what he already suspected. "She... never could face what our father turned you and Jonathan into. The things he made you do."

Angel Dust grimaced. "I remember." He couldn't blame her. He'd turned to drugs to cope. Then coped himself to death. "And after I died, I'm guessing she got worse." He watched his sister nod sadly. Still, suicide kept her out of Heaven? From grief, no less? That was enough, even after practically being a saint? "Mom suffered, then died, and They still sent her down here?"

Molly deflated a little. "It's... no. It was worse. Mom..." The spider angel heaved a breath. "...took a lot of innocent people with her when she died."

Angel Dust felt something shatter. "What?" Angel Dust asked, flabbergasted. "How?"

Molly looked away. She clearly did not want to talk about this.

"Molls!" Angel Dust pressed.

The spider angel stared out at the broken, filthy city. "Remember those cars mom used to like?"

Fuck. Was she pulling a seraphim thing? Were all angels like that?

Still, Angel Dust remembered. Even the particular models she liked. "Mercury, yeah."

"A couple years after you were killed, father did one of his grand gestures to try to win some favor from mom." Molly's expression suggested how ill-conceived that was. "Bought her the newest model, custom made."

The screaming blades on his nerves plunged into ice. "Detroit?"

Molly nodded. "Mom drove it onto the tracks and just sat there and waited."

Oh FUCK.

Husk groaned beside him. "It was a lead sled, wasn't it?" Husk guessed.

Angel Dust immediately knew what Husk was thinking. Their dad had several of those modified vehicles. Doors and other cavities filled with lead. Turned the vehicle into an armored car. Popular with gangsters for a while.

"Dad would have insisted," the spider demon confirmed dourly as his angelic twin nodded again. "The family business was dangerous. Even Molly had to learn to shoot."

Made the cars heavy as shit. Got the name because they rode so low. More than heavy enough to derail a train.

The trio stood in silence as the weight of that crashed down. Angel Dust could see tears in his twin's eyes that mirrored his own. "I'm sorry. Fuck!" He moved to hug her. She hugged him back.

Was that part of why she wanted to come so badly?

They stood in the Bloody Knife motel room and grieved together.

"We could look for her," Husk suggested after they finally stepped away from each other.

"Yeah," Angel Dust nodded, wiping his eyes. "But not tonight." He buried his sorrow by putting on a fresh mask.

"Tonight, we have other plans!" he said with a smile. "And it's past time we got to 'em."

"Anthony..." Molly chided softly.

"Besides," Angel Dust admitted to his sister, "I'm not ready for another family reunion. Let me enjoy the one I'm having."

---

Week One, Day Six - Dead Angels Inn, Imp City, after midnight:

Velvette looked at the graph on her cell phone and gave a whistle. "Now that is a beautiful curve!"

Lute had finished her shower. Velvette looked up and scowled as the one-armed woman moved to put her same clothing back on. "No." She put away her phone and motioned the nude albino away from her pile of unfresh rags. "Just... stand right over there."

"Naked?" Lute asked. "Don't get enough from your phone?" Despite her words, she actually did as instructed.

"What?" Velvette asked, confused. When she realized what Lute was assuming, she laughed. "No, the beautiful curve was something Vox sent me. And it was much better than porn."

Velvette reached down and snagged Lute's damp towel from the floor where she dropped it. She tossed it to the naked albino woman. "Hold this a moment," she instructed as Lute caught it with her one hand. "It will give me something to work with."

Velvette looked Lute up and down, assessing what she had to work with. She did have a nice body. Thin, toned, curves in the right places. The dress should be backless, both for the sake of her wings and to show off the curve of her spine. The single arm would require an asymmetrical design to balance. A small challenge, but she liked that.

Lute started when the towel was gone and she was wearing a dress that felt like satin.

"Hmm. No, hate it." Velvette made a little swipe left motion. The dress Lute was wearing was immediately replaced with a better design. But the colors were just wrong for her.

"This... is a thing you do."

Velvette smugged. "Social media isn't my only realm of dominance." She swiped left for another try. Even better design. Even worse colors. A frown. "Woman, you've got to look good covered in something other than black, white or gray."

"Try gold!" Niffty offered helpfully.

"Try blood red," Lute smirked back at the gremlin. "I always thought I looked good in that."

Niffty laughed. More than Velvette found comfortable.

Velvette was reminded again that the two had been mortal enemies and that Princess Morningstar's little maid there had murdered Lute's boyfriend in front of her. They had the weirdest friendship, and Velvette low-key loved it.

"What was the curve?" Niffty asked suddenly.

Velvette tried another design. This time combining red and gold. The colors could work well together, but it was too much. Like the toppings for a hot dog. Swipe left.

"Do you know what a gestalt is?" Velvette asked Niffty. She was surprised when the little woman gave a spastic nod.

"It's when what you get is more than all the parts put into it."

"That's right," Velvette said, impressed. Damn, she was easy to underestimate. "Common idea in art and fashion, applicable everywhere. Especially, it turns out, in Dealmaking."

Velvette tried another design. This time, she went with white, leaving the crimson and gold for accents. That worked nicely. Very nicely. But it could still be better. Swipe left

"Everybody knows the more Contracts an Overlord has, the more powerful they are..." Velvette started to say, then stopped as she drank in the new design. Black, with a zigzagging white stripe, gold and crimson accents like stains of blood. Form-hugging like a LBD should be, but with a side slit up to the belt for ease of movement and enhanced sex appeal. Putting the slit opposite her arm added balance.

Niffty gave an appreciative whistle.

"Yes," Velvette said, swiping right and finalizing the design. "That's what you will be wearing to meet the Union."

"It's not linear, is it?" Lute said, staring at her. Velvette lifted an eyebrow at the strange critique.

"The power you get from souls," Lute clarified, clearly having latched onto what Velvette had started to say (and seeming to have forgotten the point of standing there). She went on, sounding out a conclusion. "The more souls you have, the more power each one gives you." A pause. "It's an exponential curve."

Velvette nodded, impressed again. "A very, very slow one. It's been nearly impossible to measure accurately," Velvette said, rewarding her sharpness. "But Reacquisition Day gave us a chance to see the effects in bulk and get some real data."

"This isn't common knowledge, is it?"

Velvette shook her head. "Until the other day, it was a hypothesis." She pulled out her phone. "Just graduated to a theory. You're the second person outside of an Overlord to have guessed that," she noted. "The other was the Queen of Hell, and I think it scared her off."

Velvette saw Lute exchange looks with Niffty.

Okay, what do they know? Or think they know?

"Now get to the mirror and praise me," Velvette instructed.

Lute walked over to the mirror. "This... is nice." That woman was not ready to admit fashion could do anything for her, but the look in her eyes said it all.

"Oooooh!" Niffty wowed for her. "You look like a killer!" The compliment brought a smirk to the fallen angel's face.

Lute turned, looking over her shoulder to see her backside in the mirror. A pause and a knowing look from the ex-Exorcist. "Does this outfit come with undergarments?"

"Bitch, do you need them?" Velvette challenged. Then she turned to Niffty. "Your turn, girl."

---

Week One, Day Six - Charlie's, Vaggie's and Emily's bedroom, approaching the Witching Hour :

Vaggie, the radio demon is at the door.

Charlie had known about Alastor long before she met him. She knew his reputation. She knew more of the story behind it than most people did, although hardly everything.

So I'm taking your offer to help. On the condition that there be no tricks or voodoo strings attached.

Charlie sat in her favorite bedroom chair with a single light on, and read. Vaggie and Emily were asleep, the latter sprawled over the former and snoring cutely. The shower had been an enjoyable time with her wives, but not productive on the memory-jogging that Vaggie had wanted.

A little light show from Emily's halo had flashed out between her wives, washing over Vaggie's forehead. Highlighting the water running down her hair and off her chin. Then... nothing. They had waited, Charlie watching her loves stare at each other under the spray. The two's apprehensive and hopeful looks fading to looks of resignation and apology.

The idea that Vaggie had at some point met one of the elusive Elders Above was... worrisome? Actually, Charlie wasn't sure how to feel. Those angels saw the value of her Hotel. When Sir Pentious died, They gave his soul another round of Judgement, and found it redeemed. They did so for Cherri Bomb as well. Presumably.

The Elders Above also kept everyone in Heaven clueless about what actually gets someone into Heaven, even the High Seraphim. They ignored what was happening beneath Them as the Exterminations slaughtered her people for two hundred years. They banished her dad from Heaven and cast him and her mother into Hell.

To say Charlie had mixed feelings about the Elders Above was an understatement.

So instead, she focused on the book Alastor had Emily bring her. The Book of the Loa. The pages were hand-written and bound in the cured hide of a Hellbeast. This was no children's book, but it wasn't particularly deep either - a rather encyclopedic compilation of surface knowledge about the Loa, compiled by a Goetia historian. She hadn't actually heard of the Loa before, but she grasped the importance quickly.

Well, I'm starved. Who wants some jambalaya?

Alastor had been a practitioner of voodoo in life. Louisiana voodoo, in particular. Her dad hadn't had any idea who Alastor was, but her mom had mentioned the Radio Demon on a few occasions. And she had suggested once that his power came from that. Those symbols that would fill the air around him at times were voodoo.

Alastor was on her whiteboard. He was empowered by the Other.

The Loa were beings of the Other. Lilith would have known that. She was empowered by the Other herself. Twice. The second time by becoming Conquest.

Mom is a Horseman of the Apocalypse. She had known for a month, and she still felt like she was reeling.

Charlie scowled and focused on the book. The Goetia author didn't believe the Loa were particularly powerful or important, speaking about them as if they were nothing more than a curiosity. But Charlie wasn't so sure. Even if not, they were important to Alastor.

Alastor would not own this book himself. He would have no use for it. Charlie guessed he knew a lot more about the Loa than the Goetia who penned this. So that meant he took the effort to get it just for her. Probably the reason for some of his recent absence. There were imps or succubi you could go to for things like this, but it was costly.

Vaggie had Azrael pinned as the Horseman of Death. But that assumed one of the Horsemen could be an angel. An Elder Above. Everything else pointed to the Horsemen being created by forces in the Other. And the Other had its own Loa of Death.

Charlie turned the page and read more about Baron Samedi.

---

Week One, Day Six - Streets of Imp City, approaching the Witching Hour :

"Lucifer has to be taking this thing with Lilith pretty hard," Husk muttered as the four of them walked down the sidewalk along the streets of Imp City. Well, three. Razzle was flying. The little goat-dragon was happily nomming the leftover bar food they had Hellhound-bagged from Roach Hole. "Talked with Lucifer last month. Got the feeling he had feelings for Sera once that weren't exactly reciprocated..."

Neither of the spider siblings seemed to want to talk further about their own mom right now. But when they left the hotel, the conversation had remained focused on family. Eventually, the topic of missing mothers had new focus on Charlie's.

"Well, gee, yeah," Molly said as she hopped over a drying puddle of old vomit that a crumpled food bag had gotten stuck in.

Husk stopped, staring at Molly. Beside him, Razzle was giving her a blank look, the last of the deep-fried Wrathian locust balls in one hand. "You got an issue with Lucifer?" Husk asked.

Molly waved her hands in negation. "What? No. I mean, Sera's on the aromantic spectrum." The spider angel explained, "Lucifer's deeply romantic. Sera was the wrong place to look for that kind of reciprocation."

"But clearly not asexual," Angel Dust noted, getting a nod from Molly. "I guess that kinda explains the relationship with Belphegor." Possibly Lilith too. "You know this because you dated Emily?"

"I checked her on PolyMap."

A battered car chugged by, belting out acrid exhaust from its lack of a muffler.

Razzle tossed the last greaseball into his mouth with a chomp, then started looking for someplace to toss the empty Hellhound-bag. He found an overflowing trash on the opposite side of the street and flew over, tossing it onto the spilling heap.

At the blank expression from her brother, Molly explained, "One of PolyMap's features syncs with the Golden Library for romantic and sexual orientation. It's really helpful to know that sort of stuff when teaching a new wing." She smiled. "Or arranging an orgy."

Husk gave a feline grumble. "Am I the only one a little skeeved that Heaven has an app for that?"

At Molly's look, Husk explained, "On one hand, it's nice to hear Heaven embraces those kinds of differences far better than the zealots in the Living World would have you believe." He shook his head. "On the other, Heaven's disregard for privacy is..."

Husk trailed off. Then grumbled again. "Let's just say I'm no longer surprised the Court spied on us at Consent."

Angel Dust laughed. "What do you expect from a city fashioned in the name of the original ceiling cat watches you masturbate?"

"Spoken as someone who is not camera shy," Husk retorted.

"You know it, baby!"

Husk stopped and turned, looking at the fence along the sidewalk, covered in dirty black plastic. Every few meters, a sign warned against trespassing.

Unsafe Construction Zone
Trespassers Will Be Shredded
Property of the Black Unicorn Shipping Co.

"Well, here we are." Husk extended his claws and slashed through the plastic to reveal the chain links beneath. "Up and over."

Husk grabbed onto the links and began to climb the fence. He ignored the look from Molly as she and Razzle simply flew over it.

---

Week One, Day Six - ?, The Witching Hour :

In her dream, the golden light of Heaven poured through the ornate, equally-golden window.

It was months ago. Emily stood between the chairs, too anxious to remain seated, and watched her big sister across the table. Sera was sitting, reading through the report from Pravuil with a detached serenity that was at extreme odds with the content scrolling down the glowing blue datapad.

Extermination was over. And this time, for the first time, the Purge failed. Heaven lost. The Exorcists called a retreat. Many who came back wounded were under lockdown while they were being treated. And while her sister tried to figure out how to continue to keep it all a secret.

Emily's heart was heavy.

The arguments had all been made. The accusations leveled. The begging and pleading begged and pleaded. Nothing had pushed Sera to call off the Extermination. Or at least order Adam to leave Charlie and Vaggie and their bastion of hope, the Hazbin Hotel, alone.

Emily watched and waited to see which way her sister was going to go.

A shaft of Holy Light pierced the room, sent from the Throne Above. From the Seat of Judgment.

A serpentine angel appeared within it, pulled up from Down Below. And fell unceremoniously to the floor as the light disappeared.

"Hha? Hooohh..." the new angel stammered as he jumped upright. "What-? Where?... Where am I?" He looked around in confusion.

He looked very familiar. It took but a moment for perfect clarity to make the connection with the serpent demon they had watched in the Hearing a month ago.

The serpent angel noticed them and stopped, smiling awkwardly as he lifted a hand in greeting. "Oh, hello."

Sera's face fell with a look of existential dread.

Emily's wings spread and her face lit up as she squeaked with joy.

"WELCOME TO HEAVEN!"

Sera's expression had just enough time to melt from dread to horror as the music kicked in, reminding Sera that her little sister had a habit of joining Saint Peter in his song.

"...Oh-oh, I'm so glad you made it here!" Emily sang as she flew over and grasped the serpent angel by the hands.

"You've proved redemption! Oh yes! The verdict couldn't be more clear!"

Emily twirled the disoriented angel, the seraphim almost exploding with joy.

"You fought on the side of virtue (against angels, sad but true),"
"Now God bless, look at you!"

As Emily belted out a rise, a golden portal erupted behind her and she pulled the serpent angel through.

"Welcome to Heaven!" Emily sang, dancing through the air across the main courtroom as angels of the Court stared up in shock and wonder. "My friend, you deserve to be here"

"You've been forgiven! And now, enjoy life without stress or fear!"
"You found the light and fought the fight and sacrificed for love,"
"So now you're up above!"

Emily's song continued as golden portals flashed open around the two of them, carrying them from one end of the Courthouse to the other. From the apex of Sera's office to the Heaven's Court Cafe.

Emily danced and sang and set off flashes of light and sparkling confetti made of holy motes, so caught up in Heaven's epiphany that she wasn't giving the serpent angel time to process.

"What are we seeing here? Can this really be true?" the angels of the Court sang out. But quickly split from a united chorus to many voices of confusion.

"If Sinners can be Winners and there's nothing we can do?"

"It's clear to me the Throne agrees this evil needs to end!"

"Has Heaven really sinned?"

Golden portals carried the younger seraphim and the serpent angel farther through the Courthouse. And in every room, in every corner, the music reached and the angels sang. Sometimes together, but just as often at each other.

"He rose from Below. In Ho-ly light, this is a sign!"

"He slaughtered angels! No no. There's something here that's not divine!"

"Are you really saying you side with the Exorcists?"

"Is there something that we've missed?"

The final portal took the youngest Seraphim and the new arrival back to the room where they started. Sera was waiting.

"Fine, some dissenters," Emily admits, "A few of them are jerks."
"I'm so glad you're here now, and that Charlie's hotel works.
"Her heart's just so wonderful: her love, her plea, her dreams.
"And the Elders Above agree!"

"WEL-"

"Emily! Stop!"

The younger seraphim jolted as if slapped, her song catching in her throat. The music died abruptly.

She turned to face Sera. Her big sister, usually so impossibly serene, was angry.

"What do you think you are doing!?"

"I-I... I was welcoming him!" It took the younger angel a moment to find her footing. "Don't tell me, after this, after him, you still support Adam's genocide!?"

Sera's expression was hard and cold. "Emily. It is my job to protect the angels of Heaven. From threats inside and out." Sera thrust an arm towards the serpent angel. "That. Includes. Protecting. This. Angel."

"There are Exorcists in this building as we speak. They are angry, in pain, distraught. Many of them lost friends or loved ones in that fight. They have seen their sisters' bodies desecrated. And their hearts are filled with sorrow and rage."

"I have been preparing to be the target of their fury. But now they have another, because YOU just gave them HIM!"

Emily stumbled back. "Wh-what...? B-but..."

"Right now, the threat I need to protect him from is you. Return home while I talk to our new arrival alone," Sera ordered. "Maybe I can salvage this."

Emily looked to the serpent angel, tears brimming in her eyes. "I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

She turned, fleeing through a new golden portal. Before it closed, she could hear her big sister speaking to the new angel in a calm, measured voice.

"Sir Pentious, if I am not mistaken? I apologize for Emily's... exuberance. And the danger it has put you in. This is not the welcome to Heaven that a new angel deserves. However, for your own safety, I request that you remain within the confines of the Courthouse where I can ensure your well-being. At least until things calm down. Will you agree to that?"

---

Week One, Day Six - Black Unicorn Depot, Imp City, The Witching Hour :

Princess purred to a stop before the row of generic warehouses that matched the address Velvette had been given. The trio disembarked. Velvette took off her helmet and checked her hair. Then flashed a few pictures of the trio in their new threads.

Lute absolutely did not care about playing dress-up. But she couldn't deny that Velvette knew how to make a woman look good. Lute had never heard of "gothic lolita", but it was a thing and behold the glory of Niffty.

I am in Hell, thinking compliments about how a demon - whom I consider a friend - looks in a dress. Part of me should be screaming.

"Don't post us together," Lute warned. Niffty gave her a curious look. "I don't want Vaggie to know we're being bitches together."

That answer got a giggle from the little woman. Lute knew Niffty liked Vaggie. But she was unbothered by her and Velvette being terrible, at least so long as it was harmless terrible. Lute suspected it fell into bad girl behavior; if anything, Niffty was supportive.

My standards haven't gone down. They've gone up.

The trio approached the front warehouse. The large doors on the front were for bringing in cargo. Above them, a simple sign proclaimed the warehouse belonged to the Black Unicorn Shipping Company. The front company, according to Velvette, for the Union in Imp City.

"Famine rides the black horse, if I recall," Velvette commented. "Although I don't recall it being a unicorn. I would have paid more attention."

Lute would barely call Victor's abomination that she and Vaggie had fought a horse either. Granted, Pestilence was a false Horsemen. But Conquest is not, and the White Horse was a pegasus. "I suspect the title Horse is more symbolic than literal. The Horsemen may be as well."

At Velvette's questioning look, Lute explained, "Famine, taken literally, is lack of food. But the Biblical passage paints him as a merchant determining inflation. Famine isn't about hunger. It's about shortage."

"Well fuck," Velvette said as they approached and found the main door was slid a few feet warehouse was dark within. Didn't feel like a trap at all. "The Union's just a perfect fit."

Lute tensed. "Let me go first."

"I'm the Overlord here."

"I'm the invulnerable angel," Lute reminded her, even though she didn't think of herself that way. Not anymore.

"Arm says otherwise," Velvette noted and stepped inside ahead of her.

The warehouse was dark, silent, and mostly empty. There were a few stacks of pallets, one wall was lined with crates rising almost to the overhead catwalks. Cargo tracks hung from the ceiling, disconnected from anything, as did circular lights, most of which were dead. There was a sea of vacant space in between. And no sign of people, imps or otherwise.

"They shall not be ashamed in the time of evil, and in the days of famine they shall be satisfied." Lute quoted the verse from memory.

Velvette gave her a questioning look. Before Lute could answer, Niffty gave a little squeal.

"Oooh!" Niffty exclaimed before dashing away towards the largely vacant far corner of the warehouse. "He came! He didn't say he was coming."

Lute stopped, looking in the direction that Niffty ran. Her eyes widened as she recognized the vehicle parked there, surrounded by nothing. A black and malachite limo. It had no doors beyond the one into the driver's cabin, and that was just for show. Instead, the midsection of the limo was split by a toothy maw, currently closed.

Lute's heart plummeted into her stomach. Which bottomed out and fell into a pit somewhere beneath her.

No way.

Velvet paused, turning towards Lute, eyebrows raised.

Niffty had already reached the limo and was clambering over it, trying to look into the tinted windows.

Velvette grumbled, "She's going to get us into trouble."

Lute prayed it was here with the boy. She was not ready to handle meeting Frederick von Eldritch.

Not again. Not now. Not here.

The fallen Exorcist felt a cold sweat break out over her body. Reluctant to take her eyes off the limo, she pushed her arm against her side to tug up her sleeve, and checked. Lute felt relief when she glimpsed nothing golden and glowing. At least she wasn't sweating blood.

"Okay, what's up," Velvette said, catching the sudden shift in Lute's demeanor. "What is it? Whose limo is that?"

Lute took a step closer to the von Eldritch limo. The unlit headlights were like dead eyes staring back at her.

"It's the von Eldritch's creepy vore-themed limo," Lute stated as she walked towards it and Niffty.

Wait. Lute froze in her tracks.

Velvette responded, "Oh, that's Niffty's boyfriend, right?"

An even deeper cold washed through Lute.

"No fucking way!"

"What?" Velvette asked, beginning to sound exasperated at not seeing the cause for weirdness.

"It's a living thing," Lute stated. "An abomination disguised as a limo."

It drives itself. It swallows its passengers. The interior is moist. The seats are tongues. It grew internal teeth to hold me prisoner.

"And it can turn invisible!" Niffty added helpfully. The little gremlin knocked on a window. "Sevvie?"

I've been inside it.

"Niffty," Lute warned. "Back away."

She almost didn't hear the clopping sound of approaching footsteps from the direction none of them were looking.

A nasty feminine voice purred out from the darkness. "I see you've noticed my graduation present."

Lute spun. Velvette was already facing the kraken-demoness. Her hair was made of tentacles and her body was draped in slick, oily satin and fur. No, not demoness. This was a von Eldritch. She was an abomination.

"I let the fam use her when they ask nice," Helsa von Eldritch smirked. "But I own her Key."

The young woman held up a hand and let it dangle: an ornate gothic key with a unicorn head sculpted within the bow, hanging from an unholy rosary.

"Now pretend for a moment I don't already know," Helsa oozed. "Tell me what brings you seeking the Union, girls?"

---

Week One, Day Six - Imp City, The Witching Hour :

Husk wanted a drink.

The trio had settled on an upper floor of the abandoned construction. They had been expecting a vacant lot. But the building's skeletal structure rose five floors before breaking down into a forest of vertical girders and rebar pointing at the pentagram. There were pallets of abandoned materials and even the rare piece of equipment left unattended. Husk spotted a cement mixer on one of the other floors.

Bullet holes and old bloodstains soaked into sheetrock told them the union issues had been resolved the old fashioned way.

His flask was empty but for a few drops, and they had brought nothing with them. Intentionally: he could imagine how badly experimenting with angelic power and intoxication could mix. Probably for the best, since this was supposed to be fun, and nobody would be drinking for the social joy of it.

Dead mothers did not make for a party mood. They needed a distraction or that was just going to devour the fun out of this entire trip. Angel Dust was acting like he'd put it aside, throwing on yet another mask to fake feeling what he wanted to feel right now. Husk could tell Molly wasn't buying it either. What the angel probably didn't understand though is that sometimes you needed to be someplace you weren't. Husk doubted calling out that mask would help his friend in the slightest. What Husk needed to do was make what he was pretending to feel real.

It would be one Hell of a magic trick.

Molly held up a bullet casing. The floor near the ramp up was littered with them. Someone with less feet would have taken a tumble stepping on them like she did. "Forty-five?" she said, surprising Husk with the ability to recognize the caliber. The angel looked to her brother. "Tommy guns?"

Angel Dust shrugged. "Lots of guns use those, Molls." He looked at Husk. "So, what do you want to start with?"

"I'm thinking of putting on a magic show," Husk said with a smile. He knew all his own tricks, but didn't have most of his props. Seeing what seraphim miracles would allow him to pull off for real seemed like as good a test as any.

He wasn't going to try pulling a rabbit out of a hat. Based on Emily's reactions, Creating life was several classes beyond what he should be trying here. Everything else though was on the table.

"I'll be your sexy assistant if you promise not to actually saw me in half," Angel Dust offered.

Razzle looked ready to challenge him for the position. Molly took a seat on some stacked lumber, smiling and clearly ready to cheer him on.

"Let's start simple," he rumbled, almost purring. Something that required no angelic magic and that he always had his prop for. He fished out his deck, fanning the cards. He grinned.

"Pick a card."

---

Week One, Day Six - Black Unicorn Depot, Imp City, The Witching Hour :

Velvette locked eyes with Helsa von Eldritch. Lute stood behind her like a goon at a soiree. The gremlin was at her feet, staring up with a polite innocence in her gothic lolita dress.

"Valentino had a little accident on his way back from meeting with your people," Velvette said. There was no need for introductions. "He failed to pass on the outcome of the meeting before he met his demise." She paused. "Unless that was the outcome of the meeting."

Helsa smirked, her teeth like rows of needles. "And you want what?"

Velvette put on her best negotiating tone. "The Vees want to work with the Union. We admire the way you do business. We run Pentagram City. A partnership would be in both of our interests."

"You run Pentagram City?" Helsa sounded amused. Her body language was all dominance and scorn. Dammit, Valentino. What the fuck had he done to put them on the backfoot?

Together, she and Vox had more souls Contracted than any other Overlord except the old geezer and maybe the bitch Carmilla. They would have definitely surpassed her if they hadn't lost nearly twenty-two percent of Valentino's souls on Reacquisition Day.

Helsa turned and started walking away, back into the darkness of the far end of the warehouse. She had a strut that would have done a catwalk proud. Velvette scowled, having the briefest moment to assume she was being dismissed before the rich notes of a jazz organ and a hi-hat soaked the air between them.

The intro subsided, then the brass kicked in. A few blasted notes before dropping off to only the hi-hat. The music was jazzy and audacious, nostalgic of mafia-infested speakeasies. Helsa began to sing, her voice feminine and predatory, building up from a natural fry.

"It's the same in every city and in every town,
Some local power player throws their weight around.
The Union's a pie and they want a slice,
But are they hungry enough to pay the price?"

Helsa twisted to look back at them, tossing her fur scarf over her shoulder. Her eyes narrowed and fixed on Velvette's. The brass accented the breath between verses as the drums kicked in.

"You walk in here thinking you're a Queen,
When there's six other Rings that you've never seen.
Like every passing trend you're gonna be replaced,
So what do you have to offer that won't be erased?"

The jazz music grew more aggressive, piano and jazz organ joining back in. Helsa spun around as spotlights ignited, bathing her in light amidst a darkness that grew even blacker. Her voice rose above them, that fry giving the right words extra power.

"There's just one thing all markets understand:
Those who control the supply get to make the demands."

The female abomination strutted forward again, moving up to them. Challenging. Velvette's eyes narrowed back at the haughty snatch. She came here to negotiate business and find out what the Union knew about Valentino's assassination, not get into a catfight. But if this rich bitch abomination wanted one, Velvette swore she'd find herself facing more than she bargained for.

"Demons always bore me with their simple greed,
Come to me when you're starving for something you need!"

The brass played a transition down. Abruptly, low intensity red warning lights flooded the ceiling, illuminating a massive web. As the music sank to a more robust version of its first verse, a nearly black spider demon slid down from above. He was small, a head taller than Niffty, with an asymmetrical pattern of eyes. Velvette recognized Arackniss from his profile.

"Here's a little something you best not forget:
We built a Hell-wide empire with our blood and sweat."

Arackniss dropped onto the railing of a catwalk, his crouched stance a miracle of balance. His voice was saturated in rasp, like a broadway star turned chain-smoker.

"We climbed that mountain on our fucking knees.
You think I'd be impressed meeting one of the Vees?"

He tossed a web like a grappling rope, and used it to drop to the floor, stalking forward as he sang derisively.

"Ya sound like beggers pleadin' for our trust,
And your porn empire was little more than Dust.
We've been running this town right under your nose
While you've been taking photos in your fancy clothes."

Velvet's scowl grew until it could have split her face. This wasn't just about some shit Valentino pulled. The Union had no intention of working with the Vees. Never did. What the fuck? Why bother meeting at all?

Arackniss moved past her, leaning a little to stare at Niffty, eyes to eye.

"Here's the lesson, doll, ya better understand:
She who controls the supply gets to make the demands."

Niffty blinked. Arackniss spun, shifting into a fighting pose, fists clenched as his voice rose with the music.

"Show me fire, show me hunger for something you need!
We only work with those who are prepared to feed."

The Black Unicorn warehouse erupted in light. Blazing maws of squirming fire ringed with flickering tongues and flickering teeth, burning in the colors of the six other Rings. Those disconnected cargo tracks now linked to tracks in other warehouses on other Rings. Shipping containers began to move across the space above them, as did flatbeds carrying imps. Even more stepped in over the teeth of the fire. Most of them were armed. Wrenches, pipes, other crude melee weapons.

Velvette had been prepared for imps. But this was a lot of imps. She heard Lute growl.

The voices of the imps joined the song like rolling thunder.

"Like a single locust, trivial and small,
Imps get crushed underfoot when they don't perform,
But while you were being pretty we built this fucking city.
You will learn your mistake when you face the swarm!"

Arackniss had joined Helsa towards the back where the far wall was obfuscated by the oily black maw of another portal. As they sang together, huge black tentacles wormed out of the portal, framing the singing duo before a backdrop of webbing. It was a flex of power. But one that made Velvette's eyes widen. She'd seen that shit before. Alastor would pull the same fucking thing. The rambunctious jazz music rose to a crescendo.

"Show me fire, show me hunger for something you need!
What use have we for those who aren't prepared to feed?"

The tentacles lifted Helsa von Eldritch, forming a rising throne beneath her where she sat passing judgment on her visitors. Most of the hanging lamps exploded, showering sparks.

"It's everything. Food, weapons, contraband.
We control the supply, we get to make the demands!"

The portals shut down, plunging most of the warehouse back into darkness again. But it was a less vacant darkness than before. They were surrounded. The black tentacles carried Helsa von Eldritch forward, setting her down halfway to them in the swath of light from the remaining overheads. Arackniss was barely visible behind her at the edge of light. As the music went into a low, brassy outro, Helsa von Eldritch strutted back up to them, singing.

"Souls who are ravenous can help the Union breed,
But you don't even want what you pretend to need."

The kraken abomination stopped. The song was over. She capped the message. "Your offer is rejected. The Vees have nothing we want. And tell Charlie to fuck a cactus."

Excuse me, what?

Fuck. She was associating them with the princess and her hotel. Is that why this was all shit?

Velvette felt the beginning of a headache. The line of association was obvious. They had Niffty with them, and the little gal had been on the news after killing Adam. No, this was all shit either way. The Union made their stance on the Vees really clear.

Helsa turned, calling into the darkness. "Wrap it up boys. "We're done heAAAAAAAAGHH!" The kraken woman collapsed onto her knees on the warehouse floor.

"Stab!" Niffty sang out as she pulled her angelic dagger back out of the woman's right calf, dripping black ink. "Stab! Stab!" she cried out gleefully as she raced up the woman's back, plunging her knife in twice more, drawing more screams.

"Niffty!" Velvette shouted. "What are you doing?!"

Niffty paused, clinging onto Helsa's back. "Sevvie told me to!" She pulled her blade back out, then drew back, her eye shifting to the kraken woman she was stabbing. "Why's your blood got bugs in it?"

Several of the imps started towards them, moving into the light as they brandished their weapons, eyes locking on the little woman attacking their boss.

One of Helsa's hair-tentacles wrapped around Niffty, pulled her up and flung her away as Helsa coughed up ink.

Fuck it. This was a bad negotiation anyway. Velvette drew out Miss Kiss-My-Ass. She fired at the closest imp she could see, dropping him in a splatter. "Time to go!"

"Get them!" Helsa raged, coughing.

---

Week One, Day Six - Imp City, The Witching Hour :

Razzle flew before the rectangle of floating sheetrock, waving his arms about it like a game show babe revealing a brand new car.

Husk was dressed up in a tuxedo he summoned from somewhere. It had been his second trick.

"As you see, just an ordinary sheet of sheetrock." Husk made a twirling motion and the sheetrock slowly rotated, held in the air within a slight aura of angelic light.

Angel Dust lounged against the pile of planks his sister was sitting on. The spider siblings watched with anticipatory grins. This was fun.

"Razzle, if you would?" Husk asked.

Razzle grinned, his tongue poking out, and swooped over to the blue plastic tarp that had been used to cover the sheetrock pile. Grabbing it, he flew back and tossed it awkwardly over the floating sheet. The blue plastic was a bit stiff and crinkled oddly, not wanting to comply. But Razzle fought it into place until the rectangle of sheetrock was covered.

"Now, Molly..." Husk rumbled as Razzle moved back. The goat-dragon caught the slight flare of the angelic light behind the tarp as Husk concentrated.

Husk tap danced over to the floating sheet and with a showman flare, tore down the tarp. Revealing not a rectangle of sheetrock but a giant Queen of Hearts. "Is this your card?"

Molly let out a whoop, clapping.

"If it's not, it really should have been!" Angel Dust laughed. "Wow, Husk! That was slick."

Husk grinned at the praise. Then jolted as a slip in his concentration caused the giant card to drop, the edge hitting the floor with a thud and the card tilting forward, falling. Razzle swooped under it as it began to topple, catching it. The giant card was thin, compressed sheetrock and he didn't want it to shatter.

Molly hopped down. "May I keep it?" She moved to help Razzle lean it gently against one of the support girders.

"Don't see why not," Husk said. "It's not an illusion."

"I think we could strap it to the roof of the limo if we can find some good rope," Angel Dust said.

"Spiders," Molly prodded her brother. "I'll just web it." She turned to Husk. "When we get back, I'm giving you that massage I promised!" Molly said cheerfully.

"You also promised lessons," Angel Dust reminded her.

Husk grinned as an idea struck him. "Hold on." Razzle watched him focus again, screwing his eyes shut, his brow furrowing in concentration. A few steadying breaths.

Husk reached into the breast pocket of his tuxedo and started pulling out rope that glowed with angelic light which faded slowly from the tip back. He pulled more and more, the rope seemingly endless, piling up enough to bind the giant playing card to the limo.

"Whoa! Where are you pulling that from?" Angel Dust asked as Husk kept pulling out more and more, making faces of mock surprise.

Molly's eyes widened. "Holy... Hazbin Hotel," the spider angel swore creatively. "He's not, is he?" Her tone was more than amazed. Razzle could hear concern. "Husk... are you Creating rope?"

Husk stopped. "Uh... yeah." Then pulled an end to the rope out of his pocket. "I wasn't sure if I could. But Lucifer created a whole bunch of material for the new hotel, so I figured it was worth a shot."

"Lucifer was an Elder," Molly noted.

"And so was Sera," Angel Dust pointed out. "Kinda the reason we're doing all this."

"I know. But..." Molly looked momentarily exasperated, then nodded. "I didn't put together that giving Husk her power included giving him her connection to the energy of Creation!"

Husk balked a little. "It's not like I'm creating life or something. It's rope. It's really not that complicated."

Angel Dust's eyes widened. "Wait, so what all can Husk create?"

"In practice?" Molly replied uneasily. "What he knows and understands and can imagine fully in his head. At least, I'm guessing how that would work. I'm not an Elder. You'd have to ask one."

"And in theory?" Husk asked.

Molly answered, "Got seven days?"

---

Week One, Day Six - Black Unicorn Depot, Imp City, The Witching Hour :

Blasts from Velvette's shotgun pushed back the imps, tearing several into meaty waste.

Lute normally reacted with alacrity in combat, but she needed a moment to process.

Niffty just stabbed Famine! Niffty just stabbed Famine with the same dagger she used to kill Adam. Not as fatally, but the woman was down.

Lute turned where Helsa had flung her friend. The little woman was already getting up, excited rather than injured, searching for where she dropped her knife.

Niffty fucked up a Horseman.

Lute strode towards the crippled abomination. Her demonic aspect flared as she reached to bring forth her weapon. If a few stabs were effective, how would Famine take a beheading? What happened if you killed a Horseman?

But Lute needed information from her first.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lute saw Niffty scamper over to where her angelic dagger had fallen. A few yards in front of the limo.

She looked forward and saw Helsa clutching her Key in one hand, squeezing. Fuck!

Niffty picked up her blade. The headlights of the limo blotted out everything with their brightness, pinning her. Deadlights, Lute's mind insisted. In the blinding light, the grill of the vehicle was barely visible, twisting and opening, jutting sharp chrome teeth.

Helsa's hair tentacles lashed out at Lute, trying to grab her. Lute let them cut themselves wrapping around her sword as she abandoned it for a higher priority. Beating her wings, she swooped to grab Niffty as the black and malachite abomination roared, the limo lurching forward with unholy acceleration.

Lute curled up, wrapping her wings around Niffty, bouncing hard off the hood and windshield of the von Eldritch limo as it charged past her. She landed on her feet behind it, still crouched and clutching Niffty protectively as the abomination skidded to a stop.

Lute unfurled her wings, head down, looking down into the large, cyclopean eye staring up at her. "You okay?"

Niffty nodded. Lute let go of the little woman as her demonic aspect faded, leaving her again with only one arm.

The thunder of Miss Kiss-My-Ass stopped as Velvette reloaded.

A stringy non-sound washed over her as something brushed against her from behind, and suddenly Lute couldn't move. Like her body was lashed in place by cables of strongest angelic steel.

Niffty backed away, her eye tracing the air around Lute. "Webs!"

Velvette fired another blast. The next clicked empty. Lute heard the Overlord curse in surprise.

Lute immediately understood.

Shortages. Famine controlled the availability of resources. In a fight like this, ammunition was a resource Famine could exploit. This was the sort of shit Victor was pulling in that final fight, crippling anyone who got close to him with all the symptoms of diseases they didn't really have.

Good argument for swords and spears.

"I might not be able to kill an angel without your Heavenly weapons," Arackniss said, striding into the light. "But that doesn't mean I can't put you in your place."

"Go. Run!" Lute told Niffty. "Now."

Deja vu.

Niffty shook her head, but Lute insisted. "Get out of here with Velvette. I'll catch up."

Lute closed her eyes, crouched there, trapped. She was calm, like cold angelic steel. Lute began to pray. Lord, give me strength in my weakness. Give me courage in my fear...

She heard the purr of Princess outside, just beyond the warehouse doors. Velvette had made it out. Let Niffty be with her.

"Are you okay?" she heard Arackniss ask Famine.

Helsa hissed back. "Just get them!"

The limo's engines roared with a ravenous sound. She heard the tires spin against the concrete floor before gripping.

I tore Vaggie's wings off with my bare hands. I tore my own arm off the last time I was trapped.

Lute forced herself to move forward millimeters. The webbing across her back and wings tugged at her dress and feathers and skin.

You might not be able to hurt an angel, Lute thought sharply as Arackniss began barking orders. But we are able to hurt each other. And I am more than capable of hurting myself.

Lute pushed her body towards standing. The webs ripped apart her gown and tore out her feathers. She screamed as her flesh was ripped from her back, leaving a golden web-like pattern of weeping wounds.

I am stronger than pain.

"...Get the choppers in the air! And Edger, send the signal to the boys waitin'. I want the broads' reinforcements..." Arackniss was shouting into his phone when Lute's scream shocked him into silence. The dark gray spider demon turned and stared. "...fuck."

I am Lute.

Lute stepped forward, the webbing on her ankles tearing lines of flesh from her, leaving lines of seeping gold. Her gown ripped off of her, the shreds still clinging to the webs along with skin and meat. The pain seared her like acid mixed with holy fire, trying to drive her back to her knees.

The fallen angel turned towards the cargo doors, which had only been open a few feet, in time to see the von Eldritch limo tear through them like they were a Sinner's flesh meeting an Exorcist's blade, hunting Velvette and Niffty.

Lute looked back towards Helsa and Arackniss. The spider was helping Helsa to her feet, one hand grasping Lute's sword. Behind them, Union imps had pulled open one of the cargo crates and were pulling out firearms.

Arackniss stared back and waved with a hand. "Okay, that was fucking metal. You've earned a head start."

Lute spread her tortured wings and flew after the sound of the fleeing Princess.

---

Week One, Day Six - Imp City, The Witching Hour :

Gunfire ripped through the night once again, only this time the bullets ripped through the outhouse Husk had appropriated for a vanishing closet. One clipped Husk's left wing, leaving a burning graze.

"Fuck!"

"What's happening?" Molly cried out as Angel Dust grappled her to the floor.

Husk saw small, dark figures moving in the cover of the opposite side of the street. He dropped a moment before more staccato muzzle flashes sent a hail of bullets his way.

"No idea. But there's a lot of them." Husk rumbled. "I'm guessing they really don't like trespassers." There had been warning signs. Why the fuck had they ignored them?

Molly pushed herself out of her brother's grasp, crawling over to the port-a-potty and throwing open the door. It was empty. "Where's Razzle?"

Husk peeked over the edge. The shadows were spreading out. He could make out a few of them as imps. "He should be one floor down." The vanishing trick seemed a perfect chance to try his hand at one of those golden portals Emily was always throwing around.

Maybe the gunshots fucked up his concentration at a crucial moment. Or maybe he didn't have the sense of three-dimensional space needed to pull that trick off. Razzle should have seen if the exit went anywhere dangerous, so Husk took the fact the goat-dragon wasn't still in the outhouse and full of new holes as a good sign.

The fact he hadn't flown back up the ramp was less so.

Husk looked back towards the ramp, hoping to see Razzle crawling up, keeping low. He didn't. But his eyes spotted the pile of sheetrock. Husk concentrated.

Angelic light surrounded the stacked sheetrock. It brightened, compressing and reforming them into a giant deck of cards. Husk stood, waving a hand, and five of the sheetrock cards flew over and fanned out in front of him like a shield.

He took a moment to smirk at the cards. Full house.

Bullets started tearing through them. Compressed sheetrock was not much of a barrier for gunfire. But Husk had another idea for them.

He remembered Emily's response to his chaining Sera. The gentle seraphim had blasted holy light at him. Not dissimilar to what Adam had attacked them with. Killed Sir Pentious with.

Husk wasn't about to risk that. Sera was vastly more powerful than Adam. The last thing he wanted was to tear a hole through someone's home - or worse, level a city block - by accident. But if he could infuse that energy into something, like turning a club into a torch...

Husk closed his eyes, conjuring in his mind exactly what he wanted. Delineating the nature and scope of it. Willing. Pushing.

He heard familiar gunfire from beside him. Angel Dust's tommy guns. He was giving suppressing fire while Husk focused.

The giant sheetrock playing cards glowed brighter and brighter, burning with holy fire. Their edges sharpened like guillotine blades.

Husk opened his eyes again and lifted a hand. The cards tilted, aimed. His eyes narrowed.

Bullets tore at the air around him. But the cards were bright enough the would-be assassins were firing towards a spotlight.

The burning brilliance made his aim shit too. But the cards didn't need to be nearly so accurate.

He didn't need to kill if he could rout.

Husk swiped his hand and sent the cards shooting out like missiles towards five clusters of muzzle flashes. They struck like scythes, slashing through whatever they hit. Enemies, parked cars, asphalt. Then detonated with holy fire and concussive force, ripping apart the attacking force. And the entire street.

"Whoa!" Angel Dust stood up next to him. "That should make them think twice."

Something arced down, striking the far corner of the unfinished building's floor, taking it out in a blast that tore the walls and flooring apart, transforming them into deadly shrapnel carried by the concussive wave.

Molly jumped between her brother and the wave of debris, fanning out her wings. The force hurled them both off the edge as the shrapnel tore her Heavenly raiment to tatters but failed to pierce the angel's flesh. The port-a-potty slammed into Husk, pinning him against a girder as it crumpled like a soda can.

Husk's ears were ringing. Every sound seemed muffled and distant.

That was a mortar! They were under mortar fire.

The port-a-potty was heavy, crushing him just enough that Husk was having trouble breathing. Husk wrapped the mangled outhouse in an angelic aura and lifted it off of him, gasping for air. Dust and blood fell into his eyes as he pushed himself up, accompanied by a nauseating vertigo.

He rolled over, looking down, trying to see Angel Dust and Molly. A distant pop, barely audible through the ringing, caught his attention. As did the whistling.

Husk looked up just in time to see the second mortar coming down right at him.

The winged feline demon didn't have time to think. He just reacted. There was no concept of pushing it away or blocking it. It was a fucking mortar, and it did as it pleased. All Husk could think was to try to put more space between it and him. Make it not so close.

The air rippled as the mortar continued to fall towards him, but the distance it had to cover grew faster than it fell.

It took a moment to process what he was doing. And in that moment, the rippling became a pandemonic instability. Husk threw himself off the building as hundreds of cubic feet of unstable, artificial space collapsed in on itself in an implosion that contained the mortar detonation and tore the already damaged upper floors of the unfinished construction apart, ripping them upwards.

Colliding air overheated brilliantly. Despite the incoming shockwave and the falling debris, the resulting flash made Husk smile. It really was a Hell of a magic trick.

Black spades and red diamonds danced around him as he invoked his luck.

---

Week One, Day Six - Bridge #6, Imp City, The Witching Hour :

Velvette dared check the wing mirrors as she aimed Princess onto the main bridge connecting the warehouse district with the rest of Imp City, passing over the flood channel designed against heavy acid thundershowers. The street behind was clear.

Lute was behind her, clutching tightly. The woman was a mess, her gown destroyed, her body bleeding golden ichor. Niffty was in the sidecar, facing backwards.

"They have helicopters!" the gremlin cheered, seeming happy that the getaway wasn't lacking for excitement.

"...Seriously?" Lute asked. The chopping beat of them was becoming audible over the purr of the motorcycle's engine.

With a crashing explosion of wood and metal, the fucking von Eldritch limo smashed through a guard shack, skidding as its headlights flashed across them. The black and malachite monstrosity righted its course, screaming onto the bridge after them. What the fuck!?

Velvette focused forward, getting as much speed out of Princess as she could. Behind her, Lute called for Niffty to pass her Miss Kiss-My-Ass. Velvette felt the woman shift about on the seat until she was facing backwards. Fucking risky at this speed with nothing to cling to, but Velvette supposed if the fallen angel kissed pavement, the road rash would be minor.

The von Eldritch limousine was closing, the creepy bright headlights glaring in her wing mirrors. Deadlights. The Overlord's eyes fell to the gauges on the motorcycle, a bolt of dread hitting between her breasts as she saw the fuel gauge dropping. Again. What the fuck!?

The beautiful bark of Miss Kiss-My-Ass punched the air. Lute's back and wings thumped against Velvette's duster as the fallen angel began pumping shots at the pursuing limousine.

Velvette hoped she was aiming for the tires. But the woman was shooting into those damn headlights. The glare bathing them suddenly dimmed as Lute took out the headlights on the left side. The limo dropped back a little. The fuel gauge stopped falling.

"It's bleeding!" Niffty cried out with a cheer.

"Bleeding?" Velvette shouted. The pounding of the choppers was growing closer.

"It's her Horse!" Lute shouted back at her while Niffty passed her ammo. "And this shotgun isn't doing much against it."

So much for a black unicorn. Although for all she knew, that was another form.

She knew about Horsemen conceptually. She'd given Victor the infrastructure he needed to make his angel plague. She thought she had prepared for the potential that Arackniss would have the Big Boss with him. And she'd topped Princess off on the way to the depot, just in case they needed to run all the way back to Pentagram City. Right now, she was very glad she did.

"Well, keep it off of us!" Velvette shouted back. "Every time that fucker gets close, we lose a quarter galleon, and Princess only has five!" This was going to be a very short chase if that Otherly Motors bitch kept vamping her gas.

One of the helicopters shot overhead, turning. The side was open, the imps inside opening up with a mounted minigun. Velvette swerved, dancing Princess around the stream of bullets sparking across the bridge.

The glare of the limo's remaining deadlights washed over them as Velvette guided Princess like a ballerina between arcs of fire as the second helicopter swept over, trying to pinch them. For a few seconds, Princess lost fuel again.

"Keep shooting the Horse," Lute instructed, passing Miss Kiss-My-Ass to the very eager Niffty. "I've got the helicopters."

Behind her, Lute shifted again, her back pulling off Velvette's duster with a tacky, wet sound like tearing velcro. A soft grunt. Lute perched on her feet, then launched herself off the back of the motorcycle, spreading her wings.

The growl of the von Eldritch limo rose to a roar, the chrome-toothed maw of its front grill drawing terrifyingly close, revealing a black void. Something tentacular and tongue-like emerged from within. From the sidecar, Niffty cackled madly, bracing herself, and started pouring shotgun blasts into the Black Horse of Famine as quickly as she could. Shot. Shot. Pump. Shot. Shot. Pump. The limo fell back again.

Velvette risked looking back over her shoulder. She saw Lute fly up before one of the helicopters, then tuck her wings about her and dive into the spinning blades.

Indestructible angel.

The chopper's blades weren't angelic steel. The imp's flying machine tore itself apart. Velvette didn't see where the calamity flung Lute to, suddenly needing to focus on dodging the crashing body of the helicopter as it smashed into the bridge, bouncing and siding as it burst into flames.

---

Week One, Day Six - Streets of Imp City, The Witching Hour :

"EEEK!" Molly squealed as she covered her head with her arms. Bullets sprayed across the construction dumpster she was nested behind with her twin brother. Several bullets ripped through her hair, but none found their target.

Angel Dust growled, "Stay down. You're unarmed and inexperienced. We're not. We've got this." He was battered and dirty and bleeding from several small wounds, but none were serious. He fired an SMG blindly over the dumpster to send the attacking imps back behind their cover. Then stood up and waited for them to show themselves to his tommy guns.

Molly's bosom heaved as she fought to get her rapid breathing under control. A hyperventilating twin sister would not help. She knew what might. But it would get her into trouble.

Bullets tore at the dumpster. Angel Dust returned fire.

"What the fuck did we do to piss these people off?" Angel Dust growled as one of his tommy guns clicked empty. "And how are there so many of them?"

Already in trouble. "Anthony..." Molly said meekly, "I'm not unarmed. Please don't be mad."

Angel Dust ducked back down. "What? Why would I be mad?"

"Because: angel? With a weapon!" Molly huffed, "Angels shouldn't be coming to Hell armed!

"Have you seen this place?" Angel Dust huffed back. "Everybody in Hell should be armed!"

An explosion signaled the arrival of Husk. "They're regrouping. Dammit, that was my last explosive dice. You two okay?"

"Better now," Angel Dust admitted with a smile. "A relief to see you." He peaked around the corner of the construction dumpster, but saw no sign of their attackers. "At least they haven't fired any more artillery at us."

Molly nodded. She was scared but unharmed. The tatters of her raiment kept her decent, if barely. "Can you Create more?" Molly asked.

"Molly has a weapon," Angel Dust told him. "She's afraid to use it because Exorcists. Where's Razzle?"

"Still looking," Husk admitted. Then answered Molly. "I am not going to try to conjure anything intentionally volatile, especially not while under fire." He felt he got lucky with the sheetrock cards. He didn't expect them to explode like that. He knew he got lucky with whatever he made happen after that. They all did.

"And you're right: not a great optic for the Embassy." Husk gave Molly the sort of look that made her cringe. "I thought only Exorcists went around with angelic steel."

"It's not..." Molly protested. "I told some of my closest friends I was spending a few days in Hell. Eustice insisted I take his blessed weapon."

"Eustice?" Angel Dust couldn't help but ask, taking advantage of the lull in fighting to make sure all his guns were loaded. "He, uh, part of your... polycule, I guess?"

Molly's little laugh was warped by stress. "Yes. I mean, he wouldn't say so since he's ace. But don't be fooled. Eustice is such a prolific cuddle-bug." She smiled affectionately, waving her hands. "And..."

"Molls." A sigh. "Where is it?" Angel Dust finished reloading.

Oh, wait. I know where.

"Cleavage-space!" Molly grinned. "Some of us have it."

"The answer you deserved," Husk rumbled.

Molly undid the top button of what remained of her blouse and reached between her boobs, drawing out a shiny, one-handed crossbow with a flower petal design in rose gold. The slotted arrow was golden with a heart-shaped tip.

Husk smirked. "Okay, you're fine. You won't be mistaken for an Exorcist with that." Molly's cupid-like crossbow was cute.

"That's... weirdly adorable," Angel Dust appraised. "And it's called the Other," he corrected in a sibling tone. "Everyone has it."

Their attention was wrenched by a draconic roar. All three turned to watch as massive red wings tore into the sky from somewhere beyond the far fence. With one heavy beat after another, they hefted the form of a fearsome red-furred dragon up over the buildings. He roared in anger, claws dripping black blood.

"Looks like they fucking cornered Razzle and found out."

---

Week One, Day Six - Streets of Imp City, The Witching Hour :

"Hang on, Fifi!"

Princess swerved briefly into the deadlights of the von Eldritch limo as Velvette made a hard turn into a narrow alley, the wheel of the sidecar riding one of the alley walls.

"Try following us down this!" Velvette sneered, her body exhilaratingly close to the speeding ground, as the limo stopped behind them. The Black Horse's deadlights glared down the narrow alley. For a moment, Niffty wondered if it would turn into a horse and follow. But instead, it backed up and turned, headed for the nearest cross-street.

"Fifinella!" Niffty cheered. She dove into the sidecar, digging. "Queen Bitch, want slugs!"

"Violet box!" Velvette told her.

Nope. "That's buckshot!"

"That's indigo," Velvette corrected. "I said violet!"

Princess shot out of the alley and into the crosshairs of the minigun on the remaining chopper. Bullets ripped the air, a blink too late to hit their target.

There was no opposite alleyway, but the big picture window on the restaurant in front of them did just fine. Velvette crouched as she aimed her motorcycle through the window, smashing through chairs and tables. Waiters and diners dove out of the way. Well, most of them. A few got run over. Velvette didn't stop to count as Princess raced through the service hallway and out the back loading door. Niffty snagged a muffin as they bowled through service carts.

The helicopter turned, pursuing alongside them as Velvette turned again. It flew into view, the imps aboard taking aim.

Niffty cheered again as her fallen angel friend flew into view. Lute was naked, bleeding and carrying the tail rotor of the previous helicopter. Which the angel-demon threw through the open helicopter, slicing apart the imps huddled around the gun inside.

Niffty watched Lute land in the back of the helicopter, pick up one of the chopped-up imps' sidearms, and paint the pilot's windshield with what was inside her head. Best bad angel!

She lost sight of them as Velvette sent the motorcycle down the delivery backstreet behind the restaurant and into the main street, dodging traffic like a gymnast. Niffty was a little disappointed not to see that helicopter crash. But the return of the hungry limo monster made up for it.

"Fuck that thing!" Velvette hissed, but Niffty didn't want to. She would fuck it up though. "Freeway or backstreets?"

"Freeway!" Niffty called out, and Velvette turned Princess onto an onramp. The black and malachite limo followed.

When they crested onto the freeway, Velvette raced across the lanes and into the oncoming traffic. She was giving the motorcycle a graceful agility Niffty knew had to be magic. Velvette shot between two very big oncoming trucks, earning swearing and the blare of horns.

The limousine was not so graceful in its pursuit. One of the trucks slammed into its back half, the truck's nose crumpling as it snapped about like a broken neck. The trailer continued forward, shearing off of its tractor, slamming into the limo and scrapping partway over it. The trailer crinkled in the middle, the back breaking open to spill part of its shipment of toilets.

Velvette slowed to a stop, looking back at the von Eldritch limousine pinned under the trailer and its heavy cargo. The Black Horse of Famine growled, engine revving. It shifted, working to free itself. Its metal skin rippled, and Niffty could almost see tentacles Othered within.

"That fucker just took out a lorry and it's still going."

Velvette looked at her fuel gauge. "Half a gallon left, Fifi. We're not going far without more gas."

There was a shimmering, and the sight of the limousine blew away like dust. But the trailer didn't shift. It was still there. "And now it's invisible," Velvette said with absolute loathing.

Niffty took aim and fired two slugs into the fuel tank of the wrecked truck. Pump. "Aww, it didn't explode!"

"Because we want it invisible and on fire?" Velvette asked revving the engine. "You see Lute?"

Niffty pointed to the rising column of smoke several blocks away. Princess started moving again.

---

Week One, Day Six - ?, The Witching Hour :

In her nightmare, it was a decade ago. Before Charlie. Before losing Heaven for showing mercy to a Sinner child. Before she even had a name again. She wasn't Vaggie. She was nobody. Like nearly all the angels in uniform around her, many of them already in the masks they would be wearing as they descended upon Hell. Compounding namelessness with facelessness.

She couldn't. It felt like disappearing. A dissociation too far. She had trouble getting through an Extermination without taking her own mask off. If the demons saw her, she was still a person.

The Exorcists about her whooped and hollered as Adam once again took center stage. The pre-Purge concert was almost over, but they had been promised a very special guest star.

"Listen up, ladies!" Adam announced to an uproar of cheers. "I've got a very special closing number for you this year!"

From behind him, the drum beat began.

"Clap your hands and flash your tits for an old friend of mine! The Elder who made the weapons we carry into Hell tomorrow! You know him! You love him! Give it up for Azz!"

With the name, Adam hit a screaming note on his guitar that made the Exorcists around her scream back in a fevered frenzy. She joined in, belting out accolades with them, despite the noise making her brain hurt.

Adam stepped back, slightly off center stage as a ray of wan light fell from Above.

The first thing she noticed about 'Azz' was his halo. Pale, almost ghostly.

His skin was dark. Instead of a mask, the upper half of his face was studded in the semblance of half his skull. His Heavenly raiment was a black coat that flared at the shoulders and behind him with a split tail, all plated in silvery angelic steel and cross motifs. His black pants were shiny and obscenely tight.

In short, exactly a look Adam would dig. To her, 'Azz' looked like a David Bowie wannabe trying to sanctify Goblin King cosplay. The moment Adam's volcanic guitar riffs took a breath and the man started to sing, that cognition shattered.

"In my darkness,
I see flames eternal,
In my darkness,
I see souls fallen to the rot,
In my darkness,
I hear the devil's crying,
In my darkness,
I hear the plea of God."

The song was heavy and violent. A pleading cry rising to an anthem, driven by Adam's guitar.

As music crashed upwards into the chorus, the singer revealed six wings of black feathers rising behind him like reaper blades.

"Dear faithful dark angels,
This is Extermination Day,
The cattle flee from you,
This is Extermination Day!"

As the women in dark armor danced around her, pumping their fists, She mimicked their devotion as she watched the singer kneel at the edge of the stage and cast his gaze downward.

"In his darkness,
I see cities bleeding,
In his darkness,
The root of evil festers,
In his darkness,
He rules Pride upon a throne of screams,
In his darkness,
He no longer hears the thunder."

As he sang, thunder rumbled through the darkening clouds around them. The sound struck the first apprehensive note within her. It never rained in Heaven.

He stood, spreading his arms, his voice a strangely gentle beckoning to the doomed and damned below. She felt a morbid chill.

"Come to us, oh demons,
Pray to me on Extermination Day,
Come find your Salvation,
I will bring you Peace on Extermination Day!"

The singer stepped back, bowing his head in prayer as Adam stepped forward and launched into the most ear-bleeding and technically proficient guitar solo of the concert. He'd been holding back. And now he was letting loose.

She could almost understand what some of her sisters saw in Adam.

The singer began again. This time, instead of looking downward, his head was lifted towards the Throne. He began with his fingers steepled in a sign of prayer. Then slowly spread them until he stood in a crucifix pose.

"In His mercy,
He will cleanse the fallen.
In His mercy,
Eternal pain will finally meet the grave,
In His mercy,
He'll unleash the Horsemen,
In His mercy,
There will be nothing left to save."

She watched and listened, no longer pretending to enjoy the Concert. No longer able to keep the expression of dark alarm from her face. She looked around. Was she the only one who found this troubling?

But in her nightmare, the angel who would be Vaggie was alone.

"The floodgates are open,
This is Extermination Day!
The Pardon unbroken,
This is Extermination Day!
They'll bleed for their Saviors,
This is Extermination Day!
Welcome my New Kingdom,
This is Extermination Day!"

Vaggie gasped, awakening in bed. Feeling quickly for the warmth of her slumbering Emily. The nightmare was slowly washing from her senses. Even an average angel's memory was enough to make dreams exceptionally vivid sometimes. And this one had been provoked by the power of a seraphim.

"Charlie?" she hissed. Charlie wasn't in bed. Vaggie shifted, shaking Emily gently. "Charlie? Emily, wake up!"

"I'm here," Charlie said, getting up from her chair, setting aside the book she was reading. The one Emily brought her from Alastor. "What's wrong?"

"It worked. I remember." Part of Vaggie really, really wished she didn't.

---

Week One, Day Six - Streets of Imp City, very early morning:

Glittering blasts hit everywhere but the imps chasing them as Molly offered covering fire.

"You know, it's okay to hit them," Husk growled as Angel Dust scaled the fence closest to where they saw Razzle fighting. The partially-constructed walls of the abandoned site weren't offering much protection here. He was out of cards and out of explosive dice, resorting to using whatever he spotted in the environment as projectiles. "They are trying to kill us."

"Angels shouldn't be killing people in Hell," Molly retorted as Husk floated a cement mixer as a shield between them and the return fire.

Angel Dust made it over the top. Husk launched the cement mixer at a cluster of the imps. Their lives were ended with a sickening crunch, black blood splattering across the nearest wall. He watched in sickened fascination as speckles of the blood scurried away in every direction.

"Besides, I don't know how to make this change arrows," Molly said as she took the reprieve to fly up over the fence. "Maybe it only does it for Eustice."

"Change arrows?" Husk asked as he followed. A roar up ahead told them they were headed in the right direction. And that there were more attackers ahead. The roar was followed by the sound of submachine guns.

"I'd like the ones that put people to sleep," Molly insisted. "Not kill them!" She paused, looking at the golden arrow notched into the cherub's crossbow. Every time she shot one, another miraculously appeared. "Actually, I think the gold ones just open people's hearts to love."

"Yeah, that would not be helpful right now," Angel Dust commented as he began to run across the street and into an alley, heading towards the roar. "Wait... like cupid? You have a roofie crossbow?"

"It is not a roofie crossbow!" Molly glared huffily, flying after him.

Another roar, this one of pain. Then the bursts of weapons fire stopped.

A moment later, Molly and Angel Dust came running out of the alley and turned the corner to see draconic Razzle laying in the street. Panting heavily. Bleeding from a dozen bullet wounds. Surrounded by the eviscerated remains of a score of imps, along with an overturned and shredded flatbed truck with the crushed remains of a mortar bolted to its bed. The torn-open door had a logo for Black Unicorn Shipping. Only the lower half of the driver remained, appearing bitten in half.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh FUCK!" Angel Dust ran forward.

Razzle shifted, tears in his eyes.

Husk landed next to Molly. "Did... did Sera have the ability to heal?" He knew Emily couldn't. The scene before him was giving him all the worst flashbacks to the morning after Izzi.

Husk really, really wanted a drink.

Angel Dust jumped back as Razzle was consumed in a wash of flame. The inferno burned blindingly bright, then imploded, leaving the small goat-demon on the street. The deformed bullets which had been inside him clattered to the asphalt.

Molly nodded. "Y-yes. Do you believe you can heal him?"

"I'm going to fucking try!" Husk said, walking forward. "Hey, Raz. Hold on. Gonna make it better." Under his breath, he whispered, "I hope." He sank to his knees on the rugged asphalt, feeling a sharp piece of broken glass cut into one knee. Probably from the panel truck's windshield.

"Pray," Molly suggested as Husk knelt.

"What?" Husk stared back at her. "Not really the praying sort. Don't even know who I'd pray to."

"Then we'll do it for you," Angel Dust said, moving over to his sister. "Mom brought us up religious." His voice cracked a little. "I still remember the full Hail Mary. You just do the healing."

Husk nodded and turned back to Razzle. This wasn't like Dazzle. No angelic weapons were used to do this harm. And if Sera could heal, God willing, so could he.

Heh. God willing. Maybe he did know who to pray to. Although after everything, he didn't think he could put faith in anything involving the Throne or anyone who may or may not sit on it. Instead, he focused entirely on Razzle. And hoped that healing was an act of will, not medical savvy.

Husk's hands began to glow. He reached forward with them. Razzle's eyes were wide and full of tears, watching fearfully.

"Be not afraid," Husk rumbled, smiling at him. Razzle stuck out his tongue and gave a grin back.

Slowly, the wounds started to close.

---

Week One, Day Six - Streets of Imp City, very early morning:

Lute walked up to the back alley wall, looking it over. It was filthy, but it would do.

She was naked again, save for her shoes, dirt and the tacky gold down her back half. The thin tears had closed, leaving marks where the web had torn her flesh, but they were fading. As was the pain from the blades. Her whole body hurt, and the trauma of the fight made part of her want to curl up and scream. But fuck that self-indulgent weakness.

"Damn, woman. You are fierce." Behind her, Velvette got off Princess with a move that oozed completely unnecessary poise and dominance, pulling off her helmet and tossing her hair.

The motorcycle's engine purred.

"Thanks." Lute walked back to the motorcycle and pulled the IV bag out of the larger bag with the ice pack. She walked back to the wall with it.

"That was awesome!" Niffty agreed as she skittered over the top of the sidecar. She aww'ed as Velvette casually reclaimed Miss Kiss-My-Ass from Niffty's hands.

Velvette watched as Lute squirted some of the remaining blood from the IV bag onto her fingers.

"What are you doing?" the social media Overlord asked.

Lute didn't turn to her. Instead, she was focused on trying to remember. "Getting us out of here."

She began to paint on the wall with Charlie's blood.

"What the fuck?" Velvette spat. "You know blood magic now?"

"No," Lute said, pausing to re-wet her fingers and recall the next line to place. It was tricky with just one hand. "But I don't need to. I just need to remember what the sigil looked like."

Rare that she felt fortunate to have an angel's memory.

"For what?"

"I'm opening a door to Nowhere." She froze as a realization hit her.

Fuck me.

"...a pocket space in the Other. Fashioned based on the sequestered areas of Heaven." Except nowhere near as holy. "We... Exorcists would use Nowhere to... stash assets for safekeeping. It's someplace we can hide out for a bit."

Velvette stared.

"Oooh! Nowhere!" Niffty bounced excitedly.

Lute paused. "You've been there?"

"Nope!" Niffty announced. "But I fucked somebody who lived there."

Lute considered what she knew of Niffty's taste in sexual partners. Yes, that tracked.

"I've got part of him in my collection!" the gremlin maid added.

That also tracked.

"Which part?" Velvette asked without a shred of innocence.

Lute ignored the answer. And Velvette's laugh.

Niffty scampered up to watch as Lute painted the bloody symbol over the wall, rubbing her fingers through the light layer of dust and grit.

"So, why the princess' blood?" Velvette finally asked.

"Angelic ichor doesn't work for this magic," Lute answered simply. If it did, she would have abandoned her cage long before Frederick von Eldritch got his foul tendrils into her head.

"You're sure Charlie's will?" Velvette checked. A fair question, given Charlie's father.

Lute nodded. "She's a demon where it counts." She was able to summon and bind a greater demon with it, after all. It would work for this.

"And you think we're less fucked in the Other than out here with Famine?" Velvette questioned, but only for a moment before conceding. "Fine. Then make it big. I'm not leaving Princess to the imps."

Lute nodded, extending the edges of the symbol. It was using up more blood than she liked. All of it, actually. Charlie hadn't exactly left a large surplus.

"Ready?" Lute asked as Velvette got back onto her motorcycle. She turned and watched Niffty clamber back into the sidecar. "At this size, it won't last long."

Velvette started up Princess and revved the motor to indicate a yes.

Lute finished the symbol.

With the last mark made, the alley wall rippled, the bricks shifting and churning. The fallen angel stepped back, wiping the grit-fouled blood on the bared flesh of her side.

The bricks twisted and collapsed inward, creating a portal into Nowhere large enough to ride a motorcycle with a sidecar through.

---

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

"They knew!" Charlie ranted.

Vaggie sat on the bed and watched her wife pace. Emily could tell Vaggie wanted to reach out for her, to try to comfort, but this was a righteous anger. It shouldn't be quenched.

"The Elders Above weren't just not paying attention. What Sera was letting Adam and his angel army do wasn't going beneath Their notice," Charlie said, gesturing. "They knew and They just didn't care!"

Emily was sitting at the window, staring upwards towards Heaven. She couldn't reconcile that with the last line of her song. Well, the last one she'd been allowed to sing.

And the Elders Above agree.

"Sera... suspected this, I think."

Her miracle had worked. It had taken time for Vaggie's memory to unpack, coming to her in a dream. She was fairly certain her own dream had been provoked by it as well. Not that the memory had been buried. She had told everyone her first morning here that she had let everyone in the Courthouse know about Mr. Pentious' ascension before Sera could do anything. She'd just never gone into detail. And hadn't thought about it for a while. And still wasn't. For now, she put any thoughts of that aside and focused on her wives.

Charlie and Vaggie had both turned to her.

"It was something she said when she told me about her secret succubus lover who was staying in Heaven," Emily paused then sternly clarified, "Whom Sera did not say was Lilith."

Pulling on perfect memory, Emily recited: "From the way Adam spoke of it, he wasn't happy about it. And I never approved it. So I assume it was authorized, or even arranged completely, by one of the Elders Above. That is not a boat you rock, Emily."

Emily turned to them. "Adam was in contact with an Elder Above." She huffed. "Sera has never been in contact with one. I've never even seen one! And yet one of Them occasionally takes a break from being unavailable to everyone to... slum it at an Exorcist concert?"

"Maybe Azrael is playing by a different set of rules," Vaggie suggested. "Horseman rules."

"I'm... not so sure." Charlie's hemming surprised her. Vaggie caught Charlie's gaze shift to the book from Alastor. "You might be right. But I don't want to jump to that conclusion just yet."

"He's the Angel of Death, right? Makes sense he'd be Death." Vaggie frowned. "This seems like a weird one to be second-guessing, Charlie. Your hunch was spot on."

Charlie deflated a bit. "I just... want to learn a little more first."

"We should go back to bed," Emily suggested. "Get some real sleep."

Figure things out when I don't have Sera shouting at me ringing in my head.

Not that she hadn't deserved it at least a little. Given what happened in Heaven, Emily couldn't say Sera had been wrong.

Charlie looked at her with hesitation. Her eyes shifted to Vaggie. Her gaze quivered a moment.

Charlie closed her eyes and took a breath. "No." She opened them again. "This feels bad. I'm upset, anxious and frustrated. And that's not what I want to be going to sleep on."

Vaggie looked aside. Then back at Charlie. "Okay, love. I know there are things you aren't telling us. And I'm worried about what Alastor might be putting in your head. But I trust you. You'll tell us everything when you're ready."

Charlie breathed a clear sigh of relief. "I will. I promise." She looked to Emily. "And you? Are you okay?" A pause. "Don't say I'm fine. Talk to us."

Emily slipped away from the window. "Not really. I don't like secrets, even when I know they're for a good cause. And I've been feeling surrounded by them lately." Before Charlie could take that on herself, Emily jumped to add, "Not just from whatever this is. But from Sera. From Alastor. Everybody is keeping secrets, and I feel like I'm not trusted."

Vaggie flinched. "Emily, you are trusted! The secret Sera is keeping isn't a matter of trust. It's..."

"To protect me?" Emily asked. "Because I've heard that song before. Sera sang it at me when I learned about the Exterminations."

She hated how pained Vaggie looked at those words. She wasn't trying to be mean. But sometimes things had to be said, and there wasn't a wonderful way to say them. But a new pain cut through her. If Vaggie said there was no good to come of knowing a secret, just needless pain, shouldn't she accept that and be happy for that protection from a woman she loves?

Emily hung her head. "And now it feels like I'm not trusting you."

Right now, the threat I need to protect him from is you.

Vaggie exchanged looks with Charlie. Then turned back to Emily.

Emily spoke first. "I messed up with Mr. Pentious," she said softly. "Back when he first arrived in Heaven. I told you that I made sure everyone in the Court knew about him so Sera couldn't just keep him a secret like she kept the Exterminations a secret." She looked aside. "You were so proud of me when I told you that. But..." Her hands balled into fists. "...what I really did was paint a target on his back. Sera had to keep him under protection after I musical-numbered him across the whole Courthouse."

She looked back up at Vaggie, then over to Charlie. "My miracle affected me too. Replayed that in my dreams with seraphim perfection. I didn't say anything because it didn't feel important."

Charlie hesitated only a moment before moving up and taking her gently. "Emily, I'm still proud of you for that. We didn't know Sera back then and... well, my first impressions weren't good. Having you stand up for him and welcome him is something I will always be thankful for."

Vaggie stood up and moved to the two of them. "We're all just doing the best we can. Your heart was in the right place, and you gave Sir Pentious what he really needed: a friend in a new and possibly hostile place." She moved behind Emily and wrapped her arms around her. "I absolutely trust your heart. Please forgive me for wanting to protect it."

Emily felt her loving wives holding her, and felt herself relax as the stress and uncertainty brought on by her dream began to drain, leaving her tired but in a much better headspace. "Forgiven," she giggled softly. "Sorry."

When Charlie moved closer, she shifted to wrap her arms around both of them, turning this into a proper hug. Emily melted into their embrace. The trio held each other until Charlie started to nod off, and Emily again urged them back to bed. Successfully this time.

---

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

She patrolled. Walking the paths of Herself. Keeping watch on the giants. Hunting the small things that scurry.

Most of the giants were out tonight on hunts of their own. The dangerous angel. The giant who pretended to be a Cat. The small giant who played with Her.

She was anxious tonight. (Even with the medicine She allowed the giant that was Hers to give to Her.) Her favorite giant went out hunting alone. The young ones should not hunt alone.

She stopped at the door to the room with Her giant's bed. Her giant was with her angels. She liked Her giant's angels. The protector and the one who brought happiness with her presence. They were almost worthy of being Cats.

She considered going inside. Tonight they were sleeping, not mating. She could curl up on one of them and rest, watching her breathe. Instead, She chose to move on.

At the end of this path was the room with the new giant's bed. She did not know the new giant, but She was curious. She waved and the door opened.

The new giant was curled up on her bed. In sleep, she did not cover herself with clothing or blankets. Her scent was singular; she did not wear the scent of any others. When the new giant first arrived, she had worn a smell like the spider giant used to wear home sometimes. But that was gone now.

The room was barren. The new giant had no prizes. No keepsakes. So She would fix that. She would catch one of the small things that scurry and leave it for her.

She was these giants' home. (Even the dangerous angel.) And She cared for them, like Her giant cared for Her.