Chapter Seven

Put Your House in Order

One month later...

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

Vaggie awoke to the glow of Emily's halo. Emily was hovering over her beneath their bed's canopy.

"You need kissing!" the younger seraphim announced joyfully.

Vaggie felt Emily's gentle hands cup her face, pulling her close. Vaggie got her elbows under her, propping herself as her angel wife blessed her lips and mouth with a good morning kiss.

Emily was very generous with her kissing. And once the good morning present was delivered, she giggled and swooped off.

Vaggie sighed happily, feeling the kiss linger, the touch of the woman's lips against her own. The taste of her tongue.

Vaggie watched Emily land, banishing her bedtime raiment in a flash of light. Then danced around Charlie, who was fully clothed and ready for the day, as the other woman exited the smaller room.

Charlie was smiling. "Good afternoon," she teased. This time, failing to elicit even a flash of panic. Vaggie was regularly the last to wake up. But given how early Charlie was dressed, Vaggie guessed that Charlie had trouble sleeping.

Vaggie's eye had been following Charlie, but she glanced towards the bathroom as she heard the shower start. "So, did Em just trade all her anxiety for energy this morning?"

Charlie chuckled. "No. She's still anxious. So am I."

"I'd say something reassuring," Vaggie said. "But I don't want to jinx it." That earned a nervous laugh. Tomorrow was the big day. Vaggie had a hard time reminding herself that nothing was really changing.

Vaggie tossed back the covers, feeling the air on her naked skin. She'd been the middle spoon. She turned, sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for her turn with the shower. After last night, it would be good to clean off before tackling the day.

"Has she heard from Sera yet?" Vaggie asked, trying not to sound worried. But the news was good.

"Yes!" Charlie cheered. The relief in her voice was clear. "Emily's getting together with her this morning before my thing in Heaven."

Sir Pentious had insisted they all get an extra scan for the Heavenly Projector. Vaggie had done hers almost a week ago, but Charlie had been so busy she put it off until the last minute. Vaggie almost suspected the machine made Charlie nervous. She couldn't imagine why.

Charlie clenched her fists to her bosom in delight. "Oooooh, I can't wait to see Cherri Bomb!"

"Sera's okay then?" Vaggie asked hopefully. The woman had been effectively M.I.A. for a month. No wonder Emily was extra today.

Charlie's smile fell just a little. "Emily kinda hesitated, but said she sounded good on the phone. I'm telling myself she just isn't used to Sera not being able to send orbs anymore." Charlie looked aside. "Dad said Sera was fine the last time we talked, but that was a week and a half ago. And dad's not okay."

Vaggie got up and walked to Charlie, wrapping her in a hug. "We'll check on dad today. He can't hide from Emily." She knew that she was far from the only one who had been concerned the week before the wedding that both Sera and Lucifer seemed to have checked out.

Charlie nodded. Then gasped with excitement. "And I know just who is sure to cheer him up!"

"More than us?" Vaggie asked, half-teasing.

Charlie fanned out her hands, grinning. "The Exception!"

Week Five, Day Seven - Hazbin Hotel, breakfast:

Crymini was digging into her bowl of pumpkin and chicken sausage hash. The flavors were to die for. She was totally going to squirrel any leftovers for her visit to the DD later. Breakfast was particularly colorful this morning. A combination of celebration and forced ingenuity.

"Fuck, this is good!" Crymini barked between spoonfuls. "Damn, you can cook, Niff!"

Charlie agreed. "Niffty, this is A-MA-ZING!" She pulled a few slices of orange-glazed bacon. "I mean, I love pancakes, but this is a treat!"

"The grocery was out of eggs," Niffty replied.

Angelic light surrounded the tray of bacon which obediently floated over to gramps.

As he took a couple slices for himself, Husk rumbled, "That's happening a lot lately." Little shortages. Random and short-lived. "I was worried the other week when I couldn't get scotch. But that only lasted a week. Eggs will be back soon, Niff. Until then, we are all in awe of what you do without 'em."

Crymini watched the moms exchange looks. Nobody wanted to bring up the name. Not today. Not tomorrow. But everyone knew. Even if nobody thought it made any sense.

Angel Dust scoffed playfully, "Why were you worried? I thought you were off the stuff."

"I am," gramps said as he floated the bacon tray back to the center of the table. "Been dry for ten days now. But that doesn't mean nobody else will want it. I'm not the only one in the hotel with taste."

"Ten days?" Emily gave Husk applause. "That's wonderful!"

Husk rolled his eyes. "I'm figuring I tapped into some angelic alcoholism-dampener last month. I've gone sober before, but the urges have always been much harder to ignore." He paused, catching a look from Lute who was sitting at the far end of the table. "What?"

"Nothing," Lute said with a smirk. After a pause, she shook her head. "I was going to say something about how alcoholism doesn't work that way, but I have nothing." Lute shrugged. "Adam drank a lot of beer, but he never had a problem. I can't think of an angel who did. For all I know, you're right."

"Not a surprise," Vaggie quipped. "Adam had the body of someone who drank a lot of beer." Lute shot her the nasty look she deserved.

"As long as it doesn't hit the vodka!" Crymini grinned before scarfing another couple spoonfuls. She washed a little down with a proper screwdriver. Now that gramps was giving her the real deal, she found she liked it with more juice than vodka. She raised her glass to him. "Thanks."

"Well, I'm proud of you," Angel Dust insisted. He looked across the table. "Pass the fancy hash browns?"

"Banana bacon hash browns!" Niffty corrected helpfully. Her eye went wide, looking between her and gramps. "Oooh, maybe Crymini stole your alcoholism!"

"She'd be asking for less orange juice, not more," Husk retorted as he floated the hash browns over to Angel Dust.

Crymini stuck out her tongue at both of them. "Fuck both of you. Back in the DD, the proper mix was enough vodka that you couldn't tell the orange juice was rancid." She ignored the looks.

Emily giggled chidingly, "Husk, you can just pass things with your hands."

"I could," Husk agreed. "But why?"

After finishing the last bites of her hash, Crymini announced, "I'm going to spend the day hanging with Jack. Nobody freak, okay?"

Charlie looked surprised. "Why would anyone freak?"

"We actually going to meet Jack one of these days?" Vaggie asked as Razzle reached across her for another jar from the jam tray. The little goat-dragon was building a jam-toast pyramid.

Crymini wished she had a good answer for either of the moms' questions. "I dunno," she told Vaggie. "I'm trying to get him to at least consider coming here. But Jack is... Jack. Even after everything, he thinks this place is some sort of scam."

The teenage puppy demon turned to Charlie with a grumpy shrug. "You tell me? I spent a day at his place and Keekee kept locking the doors on me for a week! It was like I was grounded or something."

Charlie looked apologetic. "I think she was just being protective?" she offered. "Things got really scary the day you were gone."

"Well, nothing's been scary since, so..." Crymini paused to watch Razzle as the jam pyramid devouring began. Wow, the little guy could eat. And he was clearly enjoying himself. It was messy and looked fun. Soon, he leaned back, looking satiated, happily patting his tummy, his muzzle dripping with five types of jam.

Charlie passed Razzle her unused napkin.

Vanexa spoke up. "You should consider shutting this place down." She had been eating quietly while splitting her attention between a book, her phone, and a letter she had gotten in the mail this morning, the last on pink stationary. Now she was looking at Charlie.

"The fuck you say," Crymini spat before Charlie's brain could unlock and respond. Crymini heard rumbles agreeing with her from around the table.

"Why?" Charlie squeaked.

"Because you're not going to be here," Vanexa stated. Then clarified, "I mean for the week you're going to be on your honeymoon. This place shouldn't be accepting new guests. Not when it is a target and you are leaving it defenseless. Master is just one man."

Angel Dust gasped in offense. "First of all, fuck you!" he snapped. "Second, a whole lot of us live here. There's no point. And we can help take care of anyone new who arrives."

"Damn straight they can," Vaggie said supportively.

"I've given a lesson!" Niffty added.

"Yes," Lute agreed. "And it was a good one." Vaggie's supportive expression wavered.

Charlie frowned worriedly. "Vanexa, do you not feel safe here?"

"One shouldn't hide from conflict," a male voice said as a late arrival joined the table.

Everyone turned to watch as the anglerfish demon tossed a box onto one of the empty chairs. He climbed the chair, adjusted the box, and sat on it to boost his height. "All the greatest advances happen in times of struggle. Please pass the bacon."

The bacon tray floated over to Baxter. He eyed it, then took two of the remaining slices.

"Baxter," Charlie gasped excitedly, having found her smile again. "It's great to have you join us!"

Vanexa was markedly less pleased. "Yes, what a special occasion. I was just thinking: if only I had some seafood, this breakfast would be complete."

"And if only I had a chest like that, I wouldn't have drowned," Baxter deadpanned back before scooping himself some of Niffty's banana bacon hash browns.

Charlie groaned. Crymini could hear her whisper to her wives, "It's like having dad and Alastor at the table."

Vanexa's muzzle wrinkled. She turned back to her reading dismissively.

"I wouldn't say that," Emily told Baxter brightly. "I mean about advancement. I don't know about the drowning. Seraphim don't have to breathe. But advancement comes through cooperation." The angelic hotel mom smiled. "Heaven is a place of peace, yet we are extremely advanced."

Seraphim don't have to breathe?

"What's it like to kiss her?" Niffty asked Vaggie. Crymini found herself wanting to know too.

"And how much of that came from mortal souls whose minds were honed by war? What is evolution but the product of a struggle for survival where only the fittest win?" Baxter asked. "Don't you call them Winners?"

"That's not why." Emily frowned. "Plus, that's a horrible name. I think Adam came up with it."

Charlie was looking between Baxter and Emily with interest bordering on mild alarm.

"More pointedly," Baxter countered, "For millennia, nothing changed between Heaven and Hell because there was no real impetus for anything to change. This hotel wouldn't exist, and no soul in Hell would have a chance for redemption, if it wasn't for the Exterminations."

Baxter waited with the patience of someone who had dropped the mic. Everyone was staring at him. Except for Vanexa, who was reading with a lack of fucks.

A wet ripping sound accompanied a flash of fiery light erupting near Vaggie's head. She jumped back in alarm. Crymini nearly hopped onto her chair. Everyone was now staring at Razzle. With wide-eyed shock, Charlie asked, "Razzle, did you just breathe fire?"

"Fucking vicious!" Crymini whispered.

Razzle looked confused and embarrassed.

After a stretch of silence, Vanexa picked up the pink letter. "Master?" She held it out to Husk.

Gramps wrapped the letter in faint angelic light and floated it in front of him. His brow furrowed as he read. He looked up, first at Vanexa, then at Angel Dust. "Have you gotten one of these too?"

Angel Dust blinked. "One of what?" he asked, clearly concerned by Husk's tone.

"An offer to come back to work for the Vee's porn studio," Husk said. With a glance down, he read slowly, "From. The. Office. Of. Emberlynn. Pinkle."

Week Five, Day Seven - Stigma Penthouse, Heaven, early morning:

Cherri Bomb woke up on the couch, feeling refreshed. Reinvigorated. Devoid of any trace of a hangover. Because those didn't exist in Heaven. Fuck yeah!

She had her own bed here. But the oh-so-convenient couch was as far as she'd gotten before passing out last night. Heaven was seriously more conductive to sloth than Belphegor.

Cherri Bomb stretched then stood, looking at her reflection in the nearest mirrored surface. She was wearing one of Jasmine's outfits, the Heavenly raiment remaining clean and wrinkle-free. Ironing was for non-Winners. Heaven was so full of cheats.

"Not that I mind," Cherri said aloud. Maintenance chores were annoying, time-sucking bullshit. "But a little struggle is good for the soul, y'know?"

She heard a laugh from the kitchen. The whole floor was an open studio-style space with huge windows that caught the play of the morning light across the Noctilucent District. The beauty of the view was unreal. Cherri Bomb had spent mornings just staring at it.

"We should make that a lyric," Jasmine said.

Cherri Bomb turned towards the kitchen, watching the koi angelfish angel make herself breakfast. She agreed with a nod. "I'll write it down."

Jaz gave her a you're such a new wing look. "You still don't get how good your memory is now," she said. "But just in case... Golden Library: mark, great lyric."

Right. Because we can do that.

Bookmark moments in her afterlife for later review.

"Thanks. Grab me a bowl of something, would ya?" Cherri Bomb asked. Didn't matter what. Everything in Heaven was at least good, and most of it was amazing. She'd tried eating at a restaurant, and it was practically a transcendent experience. Hard to believe it didn't cost anything.

"You also remember you don't have to eat, right?" Jaz said, filling her a bowl of mixed fruit with lemon-basil dressing. Which Cherri Bomb could smell from here, and knew what it was because she had been told once three weeks ago.

Right. It was just for personal enjoyment. Nobody goes hungry in Heaven because unlike souls in Hell, angels in Heaven didn't have to eat. She'd had proper reservations about staying here when the bathroom didn't have a dunny. Turned out, no use for one up here. She still didn't know where the food she did eat went, but Cherri Bomb figured she was okay not asking.

A property of being in Heaven, not of being an angel, she'd learned. Seraphim might get a pass, but at least the mortal-born angels lost those bennies when they stepped down from the clouds. Or Fell.

"How many angels don't even know what shit means?" Cherri Bomb mused aloud. "Killing vital parts of my vocabulary here."

"Oh, the gist of it is understood," Jaz said as she walked out from behind the counters, passing her the bowl filled with brightly colorful fruit. "Agenda for the day?" A pause. "Oh, spoon!" She went back to the kitchen area for one.

"Getting with Eustice," Cherri Bomb said, holding the bowl. "Callin' him after brekky. He's taking me to a place called Night Owls. Not going down in the drip Heaven gave me."

Jasmine opened a drawer and fished out a spoon.

"After that, headed back down below," Cherri Bomb said. First time since passing through the Gates. Felt weird. It shouldn't. That place was more home than up here, and for a lot longer. For all she knew, it would be again. In most of her dreams, Hell still was.

The koi angelfish angel grinned at that, clearly recognizing the name and giving it her approval. "Your cherub friend has taste."

Cherri Bomb smiled. "Love your closet, but it's long past time I got a few chosen raiments of my own. Plus, need something special for our first gig tomorrow!"

"Got something in mind?"

"Ooooh yeah!" Cherri Bomb grinned as Jaz passed her the spoon. "Thanks. And I have an even bigger idea. A Good Work of my own, beyond just the band."

Jasmine raised a scaley eyeridge.

"Need to check on something with someone down at the Hotel first. And it breaks some of the rules up here. Including a few of E's," Cherri Bomb admitted, licking her lips. "But I think I can help some people." She was feeling an earnest fire beneath her breasts just thinking about it. "In a way the shrinks at the Kirkbride can't. Y'know, like Molly did."

"Brilliant!" the koi angelfish angel encouraged. "Let's hear it, Bombshell!"

Cherri Bomb nodded before devouring a spoonful. Then stopped, just savoring in mild awe. She would never have considered herself a fruit-for-brekky girl, but fuck if this wasn't near-orgasmic.

Jaz snickered something about new wings.

Week Five, Day Seven - Hazbin Hotel, after breakfast:

Charlie watched as her friends, the staff and residents, departed from the table, alone or in pairs. Baxter was headed back down the hall towards his room. Charlie saw Vaggie get up and trail after him. Charlie knew that look. It was Vaggie's We need to talk! face.

Charlie instinctively started to follow her, only to be flagged down by Lute. The fallen angel moved into the on the opposite side of the parlor from the one Vaggie was following Baxter down. The one leading to both Baxter's and Lute's rooms. Clearly, Lute wanted to talk to her away from one or both of them.

Charlie hesitated just a moment, then nodded to Lute. She trusted Vaggie would ask for help if she needed it. And Lute was asking.

A moment later, Charlie joined Lute in the hallway. "What is it?"

"I wish to spend tomorrow with Velvette," Lute stated. "At her place." No Niffty, so she needed to get permission. In the end, Charlie and her wives had decided they shouldn't try to change the Niffty loophole. They needed to show more trust, not less.

"Why?" Charlie asked, feeling a little sucker-punched. "You want to miss our wedding? Emily's wedding?"

No matter the fallen angel's feelings towards her and Vaggie - and Charlie thought she had won some of the woman's respect - Charlie knew Lute had a fundamental reverence for Emily as the High Seraphim.

Lute's eyes widened, then narrowed, never looking away. "Tomorrow is Vaggie's day," Lute said firmly. "And she would be more comfortable if neither Velvette nor I were anywhere near it."

Oh. Yes, that made sense. It surprised Charlie that Lute was removing herself out of caring for Vaggie's feelings. But maybe it shouldn't. "Okay. Thank you for telling me. Permission granted."

With a hopeful smile, Charlie suggested, "You know, you could follow the broadcast together."

"Thank you." The words were rare from Lute. "And we probably will. The televised one."

Charlie waited for Lute to walk away before rolling her eyes. Like she expected otherwise. Lute wasn't the only one opting to miss the ceremony. In Alastor's case, it was because the Radio Demon was going to be in his tower, broadcasting the wedding to everyone who preferred listening to the radio. Charlie suspected it was more of a peace offering to her dad.

Charlie wanted him there. But Alastor promised she would see him at the reception.

Week Five, Day Seven - Baxter's Laboratory, after breakfast:

"Was there something you wanted?" Baxter asked with a rudeness that barely masked his anxiety.

Vaggie had followed him back to his room from breakfast, wanting to have a little chat. The anglerfish demon had been here for a month. And in all that time, he hadn't shown any actual interest in self improvement. Not once. What he had shown interest in was everyone else. He attended Charlie's lessons like a critic taking notes. He prodded Husk until the bartender was sick of him. He'd asked for stories about Sir Pentious and Cherri Bomb that Charlie was thrilled to supply, eager to inspire with tales of the Hazbin Hotel's successes. But Baxter never seemed inspired, and even Charlie was starting to wonder why he was asking.

But right now, staring at the doorframe Baxter had constructed in the middle of his bedroom, lined with machinery - some of which looked organic - that pulsed with a light eerily similar to the anglerfish's lure, Vaggie only had one question: "What the fuck is that?"

Baxter looked at the freestanding doorway. Then back to her, adjusting his thick glasses. "That is the doorway to my laboratory."

Vaggie was struck by the memory of Lute, Velvette and Niffty returning. At least this thing wasn't ripping a hole in the wall. (Not that said hole didn't un-rip itself.)

"Okay, I'm in charge of the safety of this hotel," Vaggie asserted after an uncomfortable pause. "If you've built a portal in your room, I want to see what's on the other side."

Baxter scowled. "I don't let tourists into my laboratory."

"I'm not a tourist. I'm your landlord."

Baxter grumped. He must have known this was coming. "Fine. But there are rules. Don't touch anything. Close the door behind you when you come in. Do not open the door without permission. Do not touch anything. Am I clear?"

Vaggie nodded. That part about not leaving without permission felt trap-like. But she was sure there were good reasons not to mess with a doorway between Hell and the Other.

Muttering unhappily, Baxter walked to the doorway, grumbling for her to shut the bedroom door. As Vaggie did so, Baxter threw a large lever. The doorway crackled with aquatic energy. The space within it rippled. And a door appeared. Metal, painted blue, rusted and covered in barnacles. Baxter reached into the ripple and opened the door.

The ripple cleared, revealing a lab that looked like it was from a sci-fi adaptation of Frankenstein. It was lit primarily by the glowing green liquid flowing through multi-story vertical tubes. The equipment looked both archaic and inventive. There was even a Jacob's ladder crackling away over a bulky piece of oddly-ribbed machinery.

Vaggie followed Baxter in and immediately regretted it. She hesitated to shut the strange metal door behind her. She didn't want to be sealed in here. The place felt off in a bad way. The air was weightlessly heavy. There was an odor under those of saltwater and ozone that she couldn't quite smell, but she knew it was there and it was repulsive.

Baxter was staring at her impatiently. Vaggie fought down her instincts and reached back, closing the door with an echoing clang.

"Okay, why the fuck would a scientist build a laboratory in the Other?" Vaggie questioned. "I get if you're studying it, but everything I've heard says that the Other is a bad place..." Period. "How do you pursue science someplace where the rules are fluid?"

Baxter nodded. "Yes. It is definitely not a place that lends itself to experiments that give repeatable and quantifiable results. It isn't a place of scientific laws, especially when you go deep. But pockets like this... and like Nowhere... offer shelter. And I have tailored this shelter to be stable." He paused as if finding humor in the phrase he had just uttered. "One of my little gifts."

What little gifts? From who?

"But why bother?" Vaggie asked. What was the point of a laboratory in the Other if you isolated it that much from the Other? "And what do you mean, go deep?"

"This isn't some mere shallow," Baxter boasted, waving an arm to show off his laboratory. At one end was a vestibule with a desk, a bed and an old footlocker which like the door was covered in barnacles. There were numerous pictures on the wall above it. All black and white.

"I like my privacy," Baxter said. "We're deep in the Deep. When that door is closed, we have absolute disassociation from Creation. There is nothing outside to fear. No distractions. No whispers of Hell, Heaven, Exterminations, politics, religion, taxes or even time. I can do my work here uninterrupted by any of that petty nonsense. Or the people who generate it."

One word caught in Vaggie's head. "Time!?"

Baxter sighed. "My dear angel. My ignominious death was in 1918. I found myself in Hell the very same year. I've worked with Victor. Worked with Carmilla. Worked with others not around anymore. I invented amazing things. I created homunculi. I even designed the goat-dragon twins that you know, Razzle and Dazzle, at Lucifer's desire, and bequeathed him my design."

He paused, then dropped, "Approximately a hundred years before my mortal birth."

Vaggie would have dropped her spear if she was holding it. "You can time travel!?"

Baxter rolled his eyes. "Hardly. Time is insistently linear. Which, I should note, is a trait nothing in the Other can manage. I rather think that was the point of Creation."

That was a relief. And concerning. And painful to try to wrap her mind around.

Niffty did say time "felt fucky" in Nowhere.

Vaggie was willing to bet that Baxter would qualify Nowhere as a "shallow", whatever the fuck that actually meant.

"The twins are my first real experiment in Otherly causality," Baxter noted as an aside. "Clearly, from a linear perspective, the experiment is still ongoing."

He refocused. "My point is, Sinners will tell you I have done an astonishing amount in a very short amount of time. And they are wrong."

He added, "On that second part, to be clear."

Week Five, Day Seven - Imp City, early morning:

The early light of dawn filtered through the windows of the palace and glinted against the mirror that Prince Stolas of the Goetia was checking himself in.

The palace tendered an absence of shouting and mockery. A blissful silence he had been able to truly enjoy once the divorce was finalized. That woman took everything she could get, but in the end, nothing truly precious. And what she gifted in her leaving was silence.

A heavy, low thudding assaulted the hallway outside his room. If he strained, he could make out the heavy goth metal and growled lyrics coming from behind his daughter's bedroom door. Octavia was awake.

Well silence was a passing beauty.

He took one last look in the mirror. Tomorrow was a big day. The most important wedding in the history of Hell. And he had been chosen to officiate it. The role was both a bit overwhelming and relatively trivial. The brides - all three of them - were doing their own vows. He understood that was all the rage with the younger generation. When the time came for Via to marry, he suspected she would do so as well. Possibly in the form of morbid poetry.

For his part, there were a few key lines, all quite well memorized. A small invoking of prophecy and Powers. A touch of magic with his Grimoire. But he mostly had to stand tall and look pretty. And to that end, he had spent the last several days in elegant preening. He was going to get his talons done later this afternoon.

He turned to the stand next to the dresser, where he had his regal best hanging cleaned and pressed. The dresser with other important odds and ends, including new cufflinks and a small gift for Via to wear. He was amused that the special bauble had been harder to procure than an Asmodean Crystal. But his daughter deserved the best. And to be honest with himself, he had a lot to make up for.

Stolas' eyes strayed to the open curtains onto the balcony. And from this vantage, he could see her again, lurking in the dark alley across the street. Watching and waiting.

Anybody else would have gotten a touch of respect for the whole detective noir look. He couldn't even see that it was Stella beneath the trenchcoat and almost comically wide-brimmed hat. But he was as certain it was her as he was certain why she was here.

Stella is absolutely not going to get an invitation.

That woman had treated him like absolute garbage for nearly two decades. Sent an assassin after him on more than one occasion. But the Royal Wedding was a very big event, and he was officiating. So suddenly he had value. The most hilarious part is that the wedding was open to all. So it was the association with him that she was interested in.

Stella could rot.

Stolas' eyes narrowed as the woman retreated back into the dark. This was the third day in a row, ever since he got back. Enough. He could handle it, but if she kept this up, Via would spot her. He was not letting that woman expose their daughter to any more of her toxic narcissism.

With a ruffling like soft thunder, Stolas became a fluid black mass of feathers. He curled into the air and swooped down, landing in the alley behind the trenchcoated...

"Oh!"

This woman was not Stella.

So what then? Did Stella hire a private investigator who really leaned into the pulp image? Paparazzi looking for a pre-wedding scoop? Or just another stalker? Having established who she wasn't, Stolas found himself disinclined to care. "For a moment, I thought you were someone much worse."

Still, this wouldn't do. He wanted her gone.

"Stalking is both rude and passé," Stolas informed the strange woman with her asymmetrical eye pattern and complete lack of beak or feathers. "And I should have you know I am on very familiar terms with the best assassins in Pride." Arguably, but no harm gilding the lily. "Be on your way. And don't return."

He wanted to tell her to bathe. The gangrenous stench was making his eyes tear. But no cleansing water would fix what was rotten inside this woman.

She looked him up and down. So did the eyes on the alley walls and in the cracks of the pavement, mimicking her gaze. A little unsettling, that.

"Pass a message for me."

That voice almost made Stella's sound pleasant. Almost. She gave him her message, not caring that he hadn't agreed to deliver it. A moment later, the woman melted in a geyser of black ichor more akin to crude oil than blood and sank into the cracks beneath.

"An abomination then," Stolas noted aloud. "Lovely."

Well, all the more reason to bring his favorite imp to the festivities tomorrow.

Week Five, Day Seven - Hazbin Hotel, morning:

Charlie answered the knock at the door. Her mind was rushing. If it was a new guest, this was a Hell of a day to have chosen. There was really no way she could properly assist a new guest with everything else going on.

"Charlie!" Lucifer stood just outside the door, arms spread wide and a big smile on his face.

"DAD!" Charlie felt her face light up. It was as if pure sunlight and rainbows had exploded inside her. Charlie swept him into the hug he was clearly waiting for.

Charlie gave him a long, fierce hug, lifting him off the ground with a spin. For the first time, he was the one winded after. "It's so wonderful to see you! I was getting worried."

Lucifer straightened up his coat. "Yeah, sorry about that, Charlie." He motioned for her to lead him inside. The door shut behind him by the power of Keekee. He was no more than two yards into the Hotel when she curled around his legs, purring.

"Good to see you too, Keekee!" Lucifer said happily. Charlie was a little surprised he didn't do a voice with her this time.

Lucifer reached down and picked Keekee up. He walked to the parlor, where he sat down, petting her. Keekee purred comfortably as Charlie took a seat opposite her dad. She was so happy to see him she could burst. Yet something felt slightly off.

"I wouldn't miss this for a place back in Heaven, Charlie," her dad told her solemnly. "This is your special day. Best day of your life." He smiled. "And I didn't want to risk messing it up."

What? "Dad?"

"Hey! Hey, don't fret," Lucifer said quickly. "This is a good thing!"

Charlie felt like a dump truck full of fret was backing up to dump its payload on her. "What is?"

But her dad was smiling. "I finally did what I should have done ages ago. What your mother kept pushing me to do. I got some help from Belphegor. Medication for my depression."

Charlie gasped. This... this was good news! No, this was wonderful news!

"Sorry I've been away for the last week or so," Lucifer explained. "It's strong stuff. Something Bel brewed up herself at Lily's request, turns out." A sigh. "But it takes over a week for the medicine to really start helping, and I didn't want you to see me during that transition."

Her dad began to give Keekee scritches between her ears. The cyclopean cat closed her eyes and purred louder. "If I seem sad, it's only regret that I didn't do this sooner. But, you know, the place is called Pride for a reason."

"You have no idea how good it is to hear this!" Charlie insisted, "And you have absolutely nothing to be sad about!"

That probably wasn't true. There was a lot of hurt still nestled inside her from the years of distance. But she was wiser now, and understood about the monsters in her dad's head a whole lot better. She was sure taking up arms against them wasn't easy. She could just be thankful he finally had. And it was uplifting that her wedding had given him the final strength to do so.

"Charlie," Lucifer shook his head. "Your mother wanted me to do this for centuries. She pushed and pleaded. But I just wouldn't. I couldn't. And... for a long time, I thought that was why we separated. And why she left."

Keekee got up and hopped off her dad's lap as if the cat knew a hug was needed and incoming.

Charlie just held him. And her dad held her back. They were both sniffling. Breathing raggedly. He wiped a tear from his eye when she finally let him go.

"So..." Lucifer said with a chuckle.

Please don't suggest pancakes. Not after that. Charlie thought. Then reconsidered, despite having already had breakfast. I would love pancakes right now.

"...How are things on your end? Everything good with Vaggie and Emily?"

Charlie was happy for the question. She wiped lingering wetness from her eyes. "Y-yeah," she told him. But then admitted, "Well, there is one thing. I'm concerned that my wives don't see us as equals. Especially Vaggie."

"You're my daughter, Charlie," Lucifer reminded her. "You are the Princess of Hell."

"So?" Charlie protested. "That doesn't mean I'm any better or more special than anyone else, least of all my wives."

"In many ways, no. You are absolutely right," Lucifer said. "Trust me, pride is a deadly sin for a reason. I've fucked up more than anyone because I thought I knew better or was better than everyone else." He looked into her eyes, his voice growing firm. "But in other ways, Charlie, it very much does. Vaggie is right. And you need to come to terms with that."

"But..." Charlie protested. She understood ostensibly what her father was saying, but that didn't make it right. "I don't want that kind of power imbalance. Especially not in my marriage!" And if it was wrong, shouldn't that be changed?

A voice spoke up, carrying a tone of correction. "There is nothing inherently wrong in it." Vanexa. The voice of embracing power imbalance. Charlie felt she should not have been surprised.

The purple vixen was sitting quietly in the corner, somehow easy to overlook despite wearing only a bondage harness (purchased by the vixen from The Bondage Club) and despite being the tallest person in the hotel (at least, so long as Sera wasn't around). She set aside the Wrathian novella she was reading. The book joined a hefty tome on psychology and a hentai magazine whose cover image Charlie suspected was based on Vaggie.

"Some people do not want equal power," Vanexa said, leaning forward to lock eyes with her. "Some prefer to serve. Vaggie is clearly someone who wishes to follow. She attaches herself as a protector and supporter. Do you really want to deny your wife the role that makes her happy and comfortable just because you have issues?"

Charlie saw her dad frown at that.

"Well, then!" Lucifer said with a slightly awkward gruffness. She suspected he didn't like how Vanexa's comment was phrased, as he didn't jump to correct any of the vixen's points. "Charlie, perhaps this is something you should ask your wives about?"

"I have," Charlie said. "Or at least, I've tried."

"Don't," Vanexa counter-suggested. "Don't stress them out thinking you're unhappy with the way they support you." The purple vixen leaned back in her chair, fishing the hentai magazine from the table next to her. "Instead, leave it, and trust them to tell you if there is something wrong."

Week Five, Day Seven - Baxter's Laboratory, morning?:

"You came to the Hazbin Hotel to study redemption?" Vaggie repeated.

"Whoa!" She danced back as Frank - the last of Sir Pentious' egg bois - darted between her legs, carrying a notepad to the anglerfish.

"Yes. Emily's chain breaking has taken the proverbial back seat. The mechanics of redemption have become my focus." Baxter was moving about his equipment, making small adjustments only he could fathom the purpose of. "My current hypothesis is that Victor was right."

Vaggie's eyebrow raised. "What do you mean?"

The anglerfish demon stopped and took the notepad from Frank, reading it by the light of his lure. "Based on what little hard data I have been able to scrounge and the models I have built from them? I don't believe Hell is being used as a place of eternal punishment at all."

I beg your fucking pardon!?

"Look around you next time you're up there," Baxter suggested. "There are no fires of damnation. The suffering and misery in Hell is all generated by the demons within it. Their greed, their wrath, their sloth... all the deadly sins run rampant. The Deadly Sins themselves don't cause demons to behave as they do. They just feed off it."

Vaggie frowned. As much as the tiny scientist's words spat in the face of everything she believed, her mind couldn't conjure a solid argument against them. It was easy to forget when you knew him, but Lucifer was the Deadly Sin of Pride. Dad certainly didn't do anything that made demons act out of pride. Yet she could make a lineup of demons whose pride was responsible for making countless afterlives miserable. Velvette was first in the lineup.

"Victor may have had a singular mindset, but I believe he was correct," Baxter continued, moving to set the notepad on a counter covered in brass switches and blinking blue lights. "The pit was created by Evil entering the world. It entered through Eve and spread like a plague, corrupting people first. Eventually, even the environment. The last thing the Elders wanted was to risk that corruption getting into Heaven."

A line from Azrael's song came back to her: In my darkness, I see souls fallen to the rot.

"It is my theory that the Elders devised a test to see if a soul was corrupted enough that, instead of Heaven helping them get better, they'd make Heaven worse. Those ruled too contagious to risk were rejected from Heaven," Baxter hypothesized. "Those souls had to go someplace. I suspect the pit was convenient."

He adjusted his glasses. "In short, Hell is a quarantine."

Vaggie digested that. It... made a sick sense. If that was the mindset, no wonder Heaven rejected the idea of redemption. You don't expect the people locked in a quarantine to just get better. But with the Hazbin Hotel, with Charlie's help, some have. And that got the attention of the Elder's Above. Or the Throne. Or maybe even God.

"The Rings of Hell were Created by the impact of Lucifer's fall," Frank interjected. "Pentagram City is a circle because it's an impact crater!"

"I... doubt it." Baxter looked briefly pained. "I recommend seriously questioning anything he says," the anglerfish scientist told Vaggie.

"Yeah, we've got experience with them," she reminded him.

Baxter returned to the topic he had warmed to. "Working from this theory, my efforts are focused on trying to determine what that critical level of corruption is. Did Sir Pentious and Cherri Bomb manage to drop below it? Or was the mere fact that they were showing improvement enough?"

Vaggie was floored. If any of this was true, Charlie needed to hear this!

"The hotel can boast two successes in nine months," the tiny anglerfish demon reiterated, adjusting his glasses again. "Sir Pentious and Cherri Bomb. There are plenty of points of similarity. Both worked towards self improvement through the venue of the Hazbin Hotel. Both ascended after noble and very unusual deaths."

Baxter frowned, his voice taking a skeptical tone. "I am doing what I can to study their cases in depth, but a third success will be needed to make any real headway. Three data points are the minimum needed to start creating valuable tests."

Vaggie nodded, her eye drawn to the climbing electrical arcs of the Jacob's ladder. "Well, we can't guarantee one any time soon. Especially if some sort of unusual death is required. Which absolutely shouldn't be."

"Hopefully not," Baxter seemed to agree. "But I can't rule it out. Sir Pentious was evaporated by an exceptionally potent blast of Holy Light. That's not the same as falling to an Exorcist blade. That's its own category. Same with Cherri Bomb, who got pulled into the Deep Below. And then, obviously, pulled back out before she was unsalvageable."

Vaggie's gaze was wrenched from the Jacob's ladder by that. "Say what?"

"Sinner souls that travel lower than Pride are pulled into the Other, beyond the shallows where you hide your spear, into the Deep," Baxter said as if explaining the sky was red. "Do you know what happens to souls that fall into what lies beyond the shallows of the Other unprotected? Their souls are shredded until all that is left is an eternal scream. A wavelength in the madness."

Baxter walked over to his desk. There was an old-timey radio sitting on it. The kind Alastor liked. He turned it on. There was no static. Just a piercing, steady shriek.

"In a deep pocket like this? You can sometimes find one on the radio if you tune it just right," the Other-knowledgeable demon scientist told her. "What you're hearing is Abel Radio."

Vaggie reeled in horror. Her eye widened painfully, locked on the radio. "Que te folle un pez."

"Didn't you ever wonder how Adam was the first human soul in Heaven?" Baxter queried with a chiding tone of mild surprise. "Able didn't go to Hell, and Heaven was still on lockdown getting its shit together after their War. So he was lost. First mortal victim of the Other."

How would you even know something like that? How would anyone?

"Sometimes, souls fall through the cracks."

Or through the Rings.

Vaggie remembered the Story of Hell. The pit that became Hell when Lucifer and Lilith were cast into it wasn't created by angels, nor was it created as a realm of punishment. She suddenly found herself wondering if Hell was ill-suited to the task. So much so that only the topmost Ring could function as one.

Another realization hit her. What kind of man would ensure those eternal screams were on the wavelength of his choice for entertainment and glorification? What kind of monster even could?

She knew the answer. She'd warned others before. And nobody listened. Not even Charlie.

He's an unpredictable source of danger, a wicked spirit of mystery and a violent monster of chaos the likes of which we can't risk getting involved with unless we want to end up erased!

Vaggie scowled. They'd all gotten far too comfortable around Alastor. Especially Charlie.

"Needless to say," Baxter concluded, "This is not a fate she could have avoided without powerful outside intervention."

Week Five, Day Seven - Fair Trade Cafe, Sloth, morning:

Fair Trade was a cozy cafe nestled into a quiet block of shops on a sleepy city street where nobody seemed in a hurry to get anywhere. The bell above the door jingled pleasantly, and the dreamy pink outside world was replaced with a warm, hearth-like atmosphere. The walls were rough brick, the furniture rustic wood, and the lighting was a warm amber from the low flames of wall-mounted oil lamps, accompanied by a crackling fireplace on one wall. The tables and counter were covered in coffee beans beneath a clear top surface.

The smells of coffee wove a rich, multilayered tapestry that blanketed the cafe. Patrons lounged about, enjoying their drinks and small confections, some having quiet conversations, others reading or browsing their phones.

Emily paused, looking around. She felt self-conscious. The light of her halo was at odds with the ambiance. (Emily briefly wondered if the lamps were magical. Everburning oil was normally a miraculous thing.)

She was drawing stares from the collection of demons. Emily wished she was wearing a hoodie like the one Molly had thought to bring during her stay. Something to cover her halo.

Her eyes sought for her sister. Sera shouldn't be hard to find; she was likely the tallest one here.

"Sera?" Tall was indeed what to look for. Emily hardly recognized Sera in the dark sweatshirt and jeans. Her sister smiled slightly and motioned for Emily to join her at her table.

"I have taken the liberty of ordering something for you," Sera told her. "Don't worry. I know your preferences. But I want you to taste some of the coffee underneath all the dessert you bury it in."

Emily gave her sister an obligatory eye roll as she moved to the table, still taking in her sister's appearance. "What... is this?"

Sera quirked an eyebrow. "Did you expect me to continue to wear Heavenly raiment for eternity?" The fallen seraphim lifted her own cup of coffee, black, and sipped at it with understated enjoyment. She set the cup back down and stared at Emily with glowing red eyes. "I am, for all intents and purposes, a demon. And I will be in Hell for eternity, barring that being cut short. It is about time I started embracing reality, don't you think?"

Emily frowned. That sounded perfectly reasonable. Even something she should maybe encourage. But her sister's sudden decision to "go native" didn't sit right with her.

"Sera, are you okay?" She had been strange and distant since the day Emily told her about the Horsemen and about Azrael singing at an Exorcist concert with Adam. Emily could understand. Realizing an Elder Above made casual contact with Adam and the Exorcists while ignoring the High Seraphim had left her miffed verging on irate. It was still upsetting. How much worse must it be for Sera, who had pleaded to Them for guidance over centuries of Exterminations. Who had been ignored for millennia?

Emily's eyes widened as she caught the crackling flashes from her own halo. Sera was staring at her with concern.

"I must ask the same about you," she said. "How long has that been happening?"

Emily calmed herself. "A little while? Is it bad? Molly does things like that with her halo all the time." Emily had seen her angelic spider friend prep for musical numbers at her Heavenly orgies. Manipulation of her halo light was often part of the showmanship.

"That doesn't surprise me," Sera said after a pause. "But it sounds like Molly is doing so intentionally. You are not. Which does concern me." She lifted her coffee cup to her lips again, taking another sip. "Have you talked about this with Carl?"

Emily shook her head. "It didn't occur to me. But I will now," she promised. Then turned attention back on her big sister. "And this? Is this because of what I told you about Azrael?"

Sera stiffened a bit at the name and looked away. That would be a yes.

"No," her sister lied. "I am just coming to terms with things. And the best way to move forward is acceptance." Sera looked around. "And to get out more. I live here now. I shouldn't spend eternity in bed. No matter how inviting that is." Another sip. "Don't worry, I will dress in my finest raiment to give you to your wives tomorrow."

"Are you and Belphegor...?"

Sera smiled. "She makes staying in bed even more inviting." The warmth in her voice told Emily the two were doing well. She wondered if the Deadly Sin was tolerating this change or encouraging it.

"Getting out more is dangerous," Emily cautioned. "There are a lot of demons who have very good reasons to hate you. Murderously so. And I imagine angelic steel has even found its way down here."

The fallen seraphim wore a mirthless smirk. "Wouldn't that be fitting. Slain by an Exorcist blade."

"Sera!"

"Calm yourself," Sera told her. "I may have grown apathetic, but I am not suicidal. Nor do I believe I deserve to be murdered." She stared into her coffee. "By my decree, countless souls had eternity stolen from them. Eternal punishment is the only possible justice. I deserve this."

"Banishment to Hell. Forever." Sera drank more of her coffee before adding, "For someone to cut that short for their own vengeance would be a mercy to me and a disservice to all my victims."

Emily stared at her in dismay.

"You worry too much, Emily. It isn't healthy," Sera finally said. And she should know. "Sloth is as far from Pentagram City as you can go in Hell. There are no Sinners here. The demons around us are barely cognizant of what has been happening in Pride, and those who know do not care. I am safe to be a demon. Well, as much as any demon is safe."

She paused, then teased, "I'm thinking of getting a tattoo."

Holy wafers. Emily shook her head. "Is this, what, an emo phase?" she blurted. "Are you going through a phase?"

Sera laughed softly.

A petite bat arrived at their table, placing a drink before Emily. She could smell the coffee beneath the caramel and chocolate chips.

"Thank you, Petunia," Sera said with a smile. She reached into a pocket and fished out several golden coins, passing them to the bat who smiled gratefully.

"Always, Miss Sera." The bat turned to Emily. "Please enjoy."

Emily watched the exchange. At her raised eyebrows, Sera said, "I asked Husk to Create a small wealth of those coins for me as I can no longer do so myself. Money is like ichor in Hell, and I cannot abide being a poor tipper. Especially in gratitude for exceptional service."

"Why don't you tell me about your plans for the wedding?" her big sister coaxed.

Emily nodded, accepting the change in topic. At least until she knew better how she felt. "Well... Heavenside, we're all going to be giant women!" She liked how Sera smiled at that.

"Sir Pentious and the Heavenly Projector, I assume?"

Emily nodded. "Charlie is going to Heaven later today for a final calibration." She wrapped her hands around the coffee cup, enjoying its warmth. It did smell... well, not divine. Sinfully good? "And I've arranged for a sunny day in Hell for the wedding."

Sera raised an eyebrow.

Emily lifted her coffee, blowing on it a little before taking a taste. It was hot enough it would have burned her mouth a little if she wasn't an angel. Her eyes widened as the flavors hit her tongue.

"That's... wow." Husk needs to get Sloth coffee!

"Isn't it?" Sera crooned. "Who would have imagined that Hell had better coffee than Heaven?" She was smiling at her discovery. "I've talked with Petunia about it. She espouses that the uniform perfection of Heaven's coffee beans does a small disservice. There is a beauty in the flaws and imperfections of Hell's beans that gives a very pleasing... texture to the flavor."

Emily smiled in surprise, taking another sip and savoring it. Then teasing with a blush, "I can verify that Hell's bean has the best flavor. Also, the coffee is very good."

"I had that coming."

Emily giggled. She chose not to take that any farther, instead returning to the topic of her wedding. "Heaven is going to open a giant portal above the pentagram, letting in real sunlight." Emily beamed happily. "It's going to be beautiful!"

Week Five, Day Seven - Night Owls, late morning:

"So you're just living with Stigma now?" the bumblebee cherub cringed at how those words came out. But Cherri Bomb laughed.

Fuck, that was kinda perfect. "What did ya expect from a demon turned angel?"

"I'm sure Emily would have gotten you a place of your own," Eustice said as he led Cherri Bomb down the Promenade to a building labeled Night Owls.

The exterior of the building was fairly unassuming for Heaven, dark blue with frosted glass windows.

Inside, the light from the windows fell on walls painted with a variety of rainbows that transitioned to walls painted midnight blue with swirls of indigo and studded with a scattering of gemstones. The gems were enchanted to glow with soft pulses like stars. The wainscotting was a mural of silhouetted angels in poses of dancing and revelry, their halos shifting colors.

Along the wall, solid holograms displayed previous patrons wearing outfits designed and tailored by the trio who worked here. There were no racks. Everything was custom made on the spot using magic and a host of materials promised in the back room.

There was a single strip of lighting above, weaving a sensuous line down the center of the ceiling, the light cast downward and barely spreading, forming the semblance of a moonlit path through a beautiful night.

Well, this is a place.

A peacock angel was laying on a table, perusing their phone, wearing a very contemporary tuxedo with subdued burgundy and wine colors that complimented their bright blue plumage.

They looked up. "Hey, Eu! Who did..." What followed was an overly dramatic gasp. And an almost glorious grin.

"Holy fuck!" They leapt from the table, tapping at their phone, gasping again. Then turned and called towards the open door to the back room. "Zee! Come out here. You've got to see this!"

A pretty voice hooted back, "What?"

"Cherri Bomb's here. Eustice just flew in with her!"

Cherri Bomb's eye widened. "I'm guessing this isn't because they're Stigma fans." That would be a pleasant but improbable shock. They'd been together for a month and still hadn't landed a gig. Although that was about to change.

"Polycule," Eustice explained softly.

Oh. Of course. Molly's been hyping her.

An eye-pleasingly plump angelic snow owl slipped out of the back room. Her raiment seemed intent on making up for her neutral coloring by combining black with bold, fluorescent colors that glowed in the darkened room. A style that might be more at home in Missi Zilla's closet than anywhere else. She wore a choker with inset gemstones in pansexual pride colors.

"So this is the new wing that our magenta-loving spider has been gushing about?"

Cherri Bomb leaned closer to Eustice and whispered, "Just how many people are in Molly's polycule?"

"Her personal one?" Eustice asked for clarification. "Fifteen. Counting Molly."

Holy fucking.

The peacock tucked away their phone into nowhere and moved around the table to give a sweeping bow. "Glen at your service. Welcome to Night Owls."

Week Five, Day Seven - Hazbin Hotel, noon:

Angel Dust poured himself another coffee. Hopefully, this one would wash away the brain fuzz. He'd gotten a few days off for the wedding and was trying to force his body to become diurnal again so he didn't pass out during the ceremony. He had a bridesmaid gown to flaunt.

Angel Dust took a large swig of coffee, not caring that it seared his throat. His throat had been through worse. And the heat was pleasant in his stomach.

There. Wake up, dammit.

His inner spider was willing. But his outer spider was doing its damnedest to nope out.
"No, dad, we're not having a bachelorette party," Charlie laughed. "I mean, what's the point?"

Charlie and Lucifer had been visiting in the parlor for hours. He hadn't seen the two in such good spirits together in a long time. If ever. Mostly, they talked about the wedding and Lucifer's soon-to-be daughter-in-laws.

"Charlie, a bachelorette party is about more than just one last night free to oogle other girls," Lucifer encouraged. "It's a chance to reminisce. A night to celebrate the impending transition to married life." He paused. "Or so Asmodeus tells me. I'm sure he could throw something together for you last minute."

"Like we need any of that!" Charlie waved off the suggestion. "We've already been married in every way that's important. And none of us are looking to flirt with anyone but each other."

Angel Dust couldn't help but interject, "You're passing up your chance to motorboat Vanexa."

Charlie would have spat her drink if she had one. She devolved into shocked and embarrassed protests just like he knew she would.

Even better, Vanexa responded by giving Charlie a sultry gaze over the top of the psychology book she was reading.

Charlie whined. "Seriously!?"

Lucifer jumped in, leaning forward and grinning back at Vanexa, wiggling his fingers in a strangely suggestive greeting. The dynamic between the King of Hell and Angel Dust's former coworker had changed dramatically midway through the morning when Lucifer recognized her.

Did a bit of devil worship back in the day, didn't you? Lucifer had said abruptly. These things get back to me, Violet.

"Dad!" Charlie protested.

Vanexa buried her face back into her book like she hoped it would open a portal and swallow her.

Lucifer lounged back, grinning. "Vanexa was never serious about me. Just being rebellious. Those are the ones I liked best."

"Dad!"

Angel Dust snickered. "Turnabout's fair play, Charlie." At Charlie's confused look, he explained, "Vanexa knows you find her hot. And she knows you're not actually interested. She's been fucking with you. Now you're dad's fucking with her." A pause. "Not literally. At least, not yet."

Vanexa left the room, blushing fiercely.

"Ha!" Angel Dust smirked. "Vaggie's not the only person in this hotel getting messed with."

Week Five, Day Seven - Night Owls, Heaven, noon:

Glen looked Cherri Bomb over, then moved to one of the solid hologram models. A brief light from above washed over her. It came from a drone roughly the size of a football that had been painted and decorated to resemble a barn owl. A moment later, the hologram changed to a mannequin-like body with Cherri Bomb's body shape.

"I don't know if you had anything like this in Hell," Glen said. "But we use this to explore the different styles, colors and tailoring that you like best."

Glen pulled out their phone, tapping at it. "Did you have any particular ideas you wanted to explore right away? We could go with something wildly different than your current style, or try riffing off of what you normally wear to create an enhanced casual."

"This isn't what I normally wear," Cherri Bomb said, then immediately questioned how true that was. She'd been borrowing from Jaz's closet for over two weeks. "Heaven gave me raiment that is just too white for my tastes. Love the cut, but I crave my old red and black."

Glen nodded. They tapped at their phone again, and the hologram solidified into Cherri Bomb in the Heavenly raiment she arrived in. At her questioning look, they explained, "The Golden Library has record of all your outfit, singular."

Cherri Bomb's eye narrowed.

"Now, you liked the cut, but wanted to go darker..." Glen prompted.

"Yes," Cherri Bomb said. "Gonna need a few. Including something special for tomorrow."

"Oh yes!" Glen gushed. "I've been looking forward to the Wedding all month! Zee and I have a place with a view to die again for. You and Eustice are welcome to join us.."

"I've got a view a bit closer," Cherri Bomb smirked.

"Well, let's hope Emi remembers to wear her panties this time!" the peacock crooned.

That got a chiding "Be nice!" from Eustice.

"Okay, how the fuck do you get fifteen people in a polycule?" Cherri Bomb asked, her brain refusing to grapple the idea. "I can't imagine fifteen people who are all into each other, much less in love with each other."

Fuck, I can't imagine fifteen people in a room without a third of them wanting to beat one of the others senseless.

Glen waved their hands. "Oh, it's not a romantic polycule. More friends with benefits." They looked at Eustice. The bumblebee cherub nodded a go-ahead.

"And not everyone is having sex with everyone. Take Eustice here," Glen smiled and snagged the cherub, wrapping him in a hug. "Eustice is on the asexual spectrum. His sexual interests are completely detached from himself. He enjoys watching his friends having sex, but doesn't want to be a part."

Cherri Bomb scoffed a little. "Here, I thought that was just being a voyeur."

"Not the same," Eustice said flatly from within the hug.

"Noooo, but you can't fault someone on the outside thinking that, Eu," Glen said with the air of someone who has said this many times before. They refocused on Cherri Bomb. "You cannot imagine how amazing it is to have someone who is there to make sure everyone else is having the best time and getting what they need because that's what he gets off on."

Like a polycule referee? Cherri Bomb thought, but didn't ask aloud. She'd already stepped in it once. She could begin to grasp how much Eustice might help Molly in her Good Work. Or, at least, the orgies.

Zee slipped close. "Give me the bumblebee, G."

Eustice smiled as Glen whined theatrically, reluctantly releasing the cherub. Zee pulled Eustice into a separate corner, promising to design him something special for the big day tomorrow. He protested that he was just planning to wear what he always did, but it was a weak protest that wilted under the snow owl's insistence.

And that left Cherri Bomb alone with Glen. Soon, the process of designing actually began, with Glen making occasional suggestions, or offering up existing designs as examples, but letting Cherri Bomb steer. Glen offered a little insight into Night Owls and Heaven in general.

"Molly helped me out immeasurably when I first arrived in Heaven, and we grew quite close in the process," Glen told her. "I've only been in Heaven a few decades. When you arrive in Heaven, you are given a new body that is perfectly attuned to your mind and soul. Gender dysphoria as it is commonly understood simply isn't a thing here. But there are angels like me."

They did a little dance and a twirl. "I'm am proudly genderfluid, and I have the forms to match!" They grinned. "Molly helped me with that. Now, my forms shift as my identity does. Naturally, subconsciously, without flashes of light or having to stop and make it happen."

"I met Zee at one of Molly's parties and we came up with the idea of expanding her shop, which was focused on bespoke raiments for the Head of a Pin crowd, into what you see now."

Cherri Bomb was impressed. This place had a vibe she was really down with. The angel remembered Emily mentioning Head of a Pin. Given the bunny suit E wore to Neon Ant Farm, there was no way Heaven's dance club was conservative raiments only.

"Forms?" Cherri Bomb asked. She could guess, but wanted to hear.

Glen laughed lightly. "Girl, you've been around Emily. You must have seen her go all eyes, bald and wings on her head." Full seraphim. "That's her original form. But she spends practically all her time in the one you usually see."

"I'm told the seraphim invented forms to cut down on the Be Not Afraid issue they were having interacting with mortals," Glen espoused. "But don't read it wrong. Sure, some angels used to call them affectations. Calling them personas got popular for a decade or two after the Carls arrived. But those names suggest there's something false about forms. And there isn't. Every form an angel has is absolutely truly them. You think Emily's someone who would go around lying to everyone?"

Cherri Bomb nodded. "Yeah, I get that. Plenty of demons are the same way." Charlie isn't any less Charlie when she's not sporting horns and a tail.

"When she was new, Emi used to call forms her wardrobe," Zee added with a nostalgic laugh. "Used to warn angels before going full seraphim that she was going to 'get naked'." The plump angel shook her head. "Hear the first time Sera had words with her was when she said that in the Courtroom in front of all the Court angels."

That...

Cherri Bomb refocused. It was time to design her outfit for tomorrow. "This Golden Library... can it pull up images from the Exterminations?"

That request gave Glen pause. But Cherri Bomb pushed. "Have it pull up the battle dress Charlie was wearing in the Battle at the Hazbin Hotel."

Glen seemed reluctant to touch anything Extermination-related, but he followed her instruction. The hologram changed to Charlie in her dress, bearing her shield.

"Okay, now put that on holo-me and let's get started!"

Cherri Bomb began to guide Glen through changes. The design Cherri Bomb had in mind was based off of Charlie's battle dress, but more an homage than anything else. She started by splitting it into a crop top and skirt with a black belt, leaving her signature bare midriff.

"And the heart?" Cherri Bomb said, "I want that, but make it a cut-out. And bigger."

Glen blinked and smirked. "You want a boob window? You've got quite a sense of style."

"If ya got it, flaunt it," Cherri Bomb grinned. "Consider it tactical." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Eustice flying back towards them, Zee in tow.

"Oh, that makes sense," Eustice said to Glenn. "Molly said Cherri did a lot of fighting. I can just imagine how many opponents gave themselves a disadvantage trying not to look at her chest."

Cherri Bomb scoffed. "Yeah, that's what happens."

The peacock angel held in a laugh. "You're adorable, Eu."

The bumblebee mini-angel smiled at the praise. "Thanks."

Glen turned back to her. "You won't need that anymore. There's never any fighting in Heaven. But I vibe wanting to stick with your style." They made the adjustment, giving the new drip a generous yet stylish heart-shaped cleavage-window.

"So I've been told."

Week Five, Day Seven - Vees Tower, early afternoon:

Velvette's.

Vaggie stared up at the sign, hesitating. It was almost like a Bible story. Vaggie in the Lion's Den.

She turned to the fallen angel who accompanied her. "Stay out here. And don't do anything that would cause me distress."

"Well there goes my plans for the afternoon," Lute retorted dryly.

Vaggie grunted. Equal chance Lute was just messing with her right now or that she had actually planned a full afternoon of it. She would have preferred just about anyone else as backup, but everyone else was busy today.

And she should give Lute a chance to show she wasn't just horrible. This month had forced Vaggie to reconsider her thoughts on the woman. Reluctantly. Ever since...

Lute saved me from being eaten by a limo!

...learning Lute had once again permanently scarred herself, this time protecting one of theirs.

Fuck it.

Vaggie turned to Lute, smiling fiercely. "You and Velvette can scheme against me all you want. I'm about to marry the two most wonderful women in all the realms. I love them deeply, and I am loved deeply in return, without reservation, despite what I've been."

Lute actually flinched.

Vaggie poured it on, getting right in her albino nemesis' face. "Plus, I'm having mind-blowing, ground-shaking, firmament-shattering sex. So I'm the Winner here."

Vaggie spun away. And tossed her hair back for good measure. The letter from Velvette clenched in her hand, Vaggie took a deep breath and stepped bravely across the threshold. She was immediately immersed in the alien world of fashion. She looked around at the maze of clothes racks and mannequins, searching for someone who could help.

Everyone had put in so much effort this month to get things ready without leaving anything to the last minute... and here the last minute was, and there were a dozen things to do.

This one was all on her. She'd been to Velvette's before. The last time was the day that woman had started her Vagyna humiliation campaign. Vaggie had found every excuse to put this off. Now, her wedding was fucking tomorrow, and she still didn't have a wedding dress!

"Hey, girl, how are you?" a voice purred behind her, managing to sound friendly, arrogant and sexually inviting all at once.

Speak of the Devil Wears Prada. Of course she'd show up personally for this.

"I'm fine," Lute answered. "Your model's in there. Do me a favor? Pretend you're getting extra accurate measurements for the Vagyna Model 2.0. She'll love that."

Velvette laughed. Vaggie hated both of them so much right now.

"You're looking a little pale," Vaggie heard Velvette tell the albino fallen angel. "You sleeping okay?" That had to be a dig. So why didn't it sound like one?

Lute dropped her voice to the point Vaggie could barely make her out over the music being played overhead. "Gold this morning. First time this week."

What the fuck was that about?

A moment later, Velvette was by her side. "I was beginning to think you really were going to throw away my offer," the woman said, unable to keep from teasing. "I mean, if you wanted to attend your wedding naked, you've got the figure..."

"Let's just get this over with," Vaggie grumbled.

Velvette tsked. "Oh no. Getting the perfect dress for your wedding is a moment. You don't want to off-the-rack it." The Vee moved around to look her over, assessing. As if she was seeing anything she hadn't seen before. And made naked models of. Which she put on billboards.

After a moment, Velvette looked her in the eye. "I'll be honest. I was planning on just watching from the cameras when you did show. Let you do this in peace." Vaggie would have preferred that. "But this late? Only way to get this done on time and to my standards is going to call for my personal touch."

"Follow." Velvette turned, motioning for her to heel like a dog. "Tell me what you had in mind."

Vaggie pushed everything else in her head aside. If she was going to get a wedding dress from Velvette, she was going to make it something special. Something she couldn't get anywhere else. Charlie was going to be wearing a tux. Black and white with burgundy lining. Emily was going traditional all white. Vaggie had something else in mind.

"For starters, white on the outside," Vaggie said as she followed Velvette towards the back. "But with a fiery red inner lining and accents."

Velvette turned to raise an eyebrow at her. "Unusual."

Vaggie smirked. "Wait until you hear the cut."

Week Five, Day Seven - Heaven, early afternoon:

The golden portal opened, right on schedule, and the daughter of Lucifer Morningstar stepped out of Hell and into Heaven.

Saint Peter waved. This was a rare sight. Not Charlie Morningstar being in Heaven. That was not so unusual these days. And would, he expected, become a regular occurrence after the High Seraphim Emily formally married her. Rather, it was a little strange to see Ms. Morningstar arrive at the Gates by scheduled portal. Usually, Emily whisked her directly into Heaven herself.

"Hello, Saint Peter," the Morningstar girl said with a cheerful wave.

"Somebody's been looking forward to seeing you," Saint Peter told her as he motioned towards the Golden Gates. The Gates swung inward, revealing a waiting Cherri Bomb.

"Heya, cunt!"

Saint Peter schooled his reaction. Not to the greeting, but to the relatively new angel's black and red raiments. They had a tattered design that made them look battle damaged. Which was impossible. And while he wouldn't complain, the cleavage window in the shape of a falling atomic bomb was a choice.

"Cherri Bomb!" Charlie squeed. "Look at you! It's so good to see you with wings and a halo!"

"Yeah, we all know you fancy them." The teasing got a blushing huff from Lucifer's daughter.

The Hellborn woman spent minutes just gushing over the angelness of the woman she clearly considered family, not just a client or patron. That was nice to see.

"...By the way, Lute wasn't kidding about Vaggie being a phenomenally bad liar," Cherri Bomb snickered. "Charlie, you were the only person in that Courtroom who believed Vaggie had to go to the bathroom."

Charlie blinked. "Yeah, I get that she was avoiding doing anything that would help Adam. Why?"

Saint Peter tuned them out, checking prayers on his phone.

After a few minutes, Cherri Bomb pushed Charlie back, pulling a wing out of her hands. "Thanks again, by the way, for letting Stigma play the opening for Verosika's concert at the reception."

Saint Peter winced a little.

"Thank Queen Beelzebub too," Charlie said cheerfully. "The reception is her thing."

"Um..." Saint Peter hemmed, unsure if he should say anything. He totally got why Charlie would openly invite the band of her hotel's latest success story play at her wedding. But, well... "You know why the band's name is Stigma, right?"

Charlie paused, frowning just a touch. "Yes. I know. Cherri Bomb told me."

"Ya know her Hazbin Hotel is all about second chances, right?" Cherri Bomb said with an aggressive smile. She wrapped an arm over Ms. Morningstar's shoulder. "Redemption is Charlie's whole thing!"

Charlie nodded in agreement. To Saint Peter, she seemed the tiniest bit surprised by how confrontational her friend wanted to be. But there was complete agreement on the principle.

Saint Peter had no interest in an argument. He raised his hands in surrender. "Welcome to Heaven, Ms. Morningstar."

Cherri Bomb grinned, dropping her arm to hug around Charlie's waist and pulling her through the Gates. "So, ya ready to marry a couple angels?"

"Fuck yes!" Charlie cheered!

Every angel stopped, staring at her a moment. Charlie looked around, blushing and seeming confused. "Uh... sorry?"

Cherri Bomb whispered, "What the fuck ya doing, Charlie? Ya can't swear in Heaven, ya cunt."

Charlie squinted.

A passing angel called down at them, "What she said."

"Anyway, Eustice gifted Molly his crossbow. So if any mom gets cold feet, Molly will hunt her down and drag her to the Embassy!" Cherri Bomb smiled. "Have fun! I've decided to head down. See you when Sir Pentious is done with you. Assuming he doesn't accidentally vaporize you or something." It was clearly a tease. Charlie Morningstar looked slightly alarmed anyway.

Laughing, the new angel waved and walked through the open Gates and towards the still-open portal, leaving Charlie standing there with a Wait! What? expression.

Saint Peter dutifully closed the Gates behind her.

Week Five, Day Seven - Porn Studio, Vees Tower, afternoon:

"Vanexa! Hello! It's great to finally meet you," the triple-eyed pink feline demoness greeted enthusiastically. She looked the vixen up and down with a purr. "You're even hotter than in your films!" Dropping her voice, she muttered, "Seriously, did Valentino understand lighting at all?"

"You must be Emberlynn Pinkle," Husk said dryly. This was the woman the Vees hired to replace Valentino? Well, he supposed she already seemed like an improvement. A very low bar.

"And you are?" Emberlynn asked, her voice suggesting uninvited would be a good answer. But before Husk could reply, her demeanor changed with an epiphanous gasp. "Are you her agent!?"

"I..." Husk raised a finger, intent on correcting. "...guess I am. Yes."

"He is my Master," Vanexa enunciated clearly, drawing a delighted gasp.

"Does he make you call him Daddy?" Emberlynn asked huskily. Then paused. "Oh! I don't know how that would work. I'm supposed to put all my employees under Contract." She looked upwards. "You can't have two Contracts, can you?"

"That depends on the Contracts," Husk said, trying to assess the woman. So Emberlynn Pinkle was a Dealmaker. That made her more than just a middle management puppet for the Vees. The pink, three-eyed feline in front of him could very well end up at the Overlord's table faster than he did. Especially with the Vees channeling souls to her. "If the Contract is for your soul, then no. Your soul can't belong to multiple Dealmakers at the same time."

"Right, right," Emberlynn nodded. "That's why Reacquisition Day works like it does!"

Why what works how?

She danced over to Vanexa. "But don't worry. I'm sure we can work something out. I've got loads of freedom in how I write my Contracts!"

If you are a Dealmaker, you should have complete freedom in how you write your Contracts.

Husk bit back on the flare of indignation. The Vees were a syndicate. Of course there were internal strictures for their Contracts. He would expect nothing less.

"Follow me," Emberlynn waved. "We'll talk in the storyboarding room. Then I'll give you a tour." She grinned. "Oh, we've made loads of changes! You're going to love it here!"

Husk jolted.

Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! You're going to love it here!

Only Charlie was genuine. This woman? Husk wasn't sure what she was. Everything she did was so exaggerated and off. This whole demeanor had to be some sort of facade.

Emberlynn continued to ramble at Vanexa. Something about choosing her own scenes.

"We're not going to your office?" Husk asked, remembering the glittery stamp at the bottom of the letter Vanexa had received: From the Office of Emberlynn Pinkle.

The Vees' new porn Dealmaker pshaw'ed. "I don't actually have an office. I mean, why do I really need one, right? I just have a corner in the storyboarding room. My apartment here is already six times the size of my old bedroom." She shook her head. "Valentino had a whole floor for an office. Despite also having a penthouse!" She frumped, looking exasperated. "The studio didn't need that. What it did need was a Volume!"

She paused. "Although I did keep the hot tub. Because yes! But everybody will get to use it now. After they shower, of course."

"That would be nice after a long shoot," Vanexa agreed softly. "Val did not offer anything like that."

Husk asked, "The studio needed a what?" It sounded like a new audio system, but the phrasing was suspicious. He wasn't about to assume.

"You'll see!" Emberlynn grinned. "It's amazing! Vox really put himself into setting it up!" She turned to Vanexa, gushing. "No more crappy sets. You go in, and it will be like you're really in Satan's secret bordello dungeon! Or the tentacle pits of Estrusia Nine! Or..."

Emberlynn went on. Husk looked up at Vanexa and saw her ears perked, genuine interest in her eyes. He had a sinking feeling.

"Stop! Look," Husk rumbled. "I've seen the way the Vees treat the souls they own. Valentino did serious damage to someone I care about. Forced him through the most abusive shit just to feed that bastard's power trip. You might not be him, but the people you work for are the people who enabled all that without a pang of conscience."

Emberlynn looked hurt. But Husk couldn't buy it.

"The only forcing that will be done in my studio will be acted!" Emberlynn promised with a gasp. "What's the point of porn if you're not having fun?" She turned to Vanexa. "You'll only do the scripts that sing to you. You can stop anytime."

Now Vanexa looked suspicious. "That's not how Contracts work."

"Well, I'm the Dealmaker!" Emberlynn insisted with petulance. "I'll make them work that way!"

Husk's brow furrowed. He considered, reconsidered, and finally said, "If you are serious about that, I can teach you how to write that kind of Contract."

Emberlynn responded with a low-throated, almost orgasmic, "Yes, please!"

Week Five, Day Seven - Courthouse, Heaven, early afternoon:

"Thissss way," Sir Pentious said as he slithered ahead. "The nearest Sundial issss near the Heavenside office of the Heaven Embasssssy."

Charlie walked alongside Emily, following Sir Pentious through Heaven's Courthouse. It felt so different from the first time she was here. Before, she was overwhelmed by how beautiful and clean and bright Heaven was. And by anxiety for the hearing. She had her partner by her side, and that was the support she needed...

...Actually, it wasn't so different. Except now, everything felt so much nicer. Because Heaven was an ally now, not a seemingly faceless force of oppression or a fence hiding just how much greener the grass was up here.

The grass up here was to die for. Baxter had been right: the Exterminations were the impetus for her dream of the Hazbin Hotel. Find an alternate means of reducing overpopulation. End the yearly slaughter. But having seen Heaven? She wanted this for as many of her people as she could help find redemption.

Like Sir Pentious and Cherri Bomb both did.

Charlie looked at Emily and found the woman was smiling at her happily. "I am going to marry you so hard tomorrow!" she promised.

And then these angels really will be my people too, won't they?

They turned into another hallway and Charlie stopped at the sight ahead. Midway down, a section of the left wall became translucent amethyst, a floor-to-ceiling computer interface with glowing windows and scrolling lines of data. Hovering before it were two drones. The first she immediately recognized as Voxtek. It seemed to be examining the datastream.

Why is there a Voxtek drone in Heaven?

The second was a golden drone roughly the size of the business end of Vaggie's spear. It had fin-like protrusions on its back and a dark glass dome on its underside. It hovered with no clear method of lift. Charlie got the immediate impression that it was supervising the Voxtek drone.

Sir Pentious turned and motioned to her. "Please ssstep forward, Charlie. Thisss will only take a moment." He pointed to the golden drone. "Thisss is a Sundial-class reconnaissance drone. It contains the most advanced scanning technology in Heaven. I need it to get a good look at you for final calibrations for the Heavenly Projector's big show tomorrow."

Charlie looked at the Sundial. Definitely not the name she would have given the drone. Her eyes moved to the Voxtek drone. She turned a questioning gaze to Emily.

"They're part of Sir Pentious' new Good Work," Emily said happily, telling Charlie practically nothing.

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Charlie turned to the serpent angel for clarification. "What Good Work?"

"Why, nothing short of esssstablishing communication between angels and demons!" Sir Pentious exclaimed. "I've interfaced Heaven's network and the VoxTek Cell Soul network through the Heavenly Projector."

Emily flapped her wings and frumped. "I really hate that name."

"That'ssss why they named it that, Emily dear," Sir Pentious assured. "We've been running tests all week, and everything looks ship-shape. But I wanted to wait until the Heavenly Projector was tested with its upgraded power system before risking a more public trial run."

Emily whined slightly. "You just keep making the projector more and more powerful."

Sir Pentious blushed a little. "Well, it will need it to handle the load of Heaven-Hell communications." He rubbed the back of his hood. "Plusssss, we needed to upgrade it for the wedding or Stolas might lose his head."

"What?" Charlie asked.

"Two months ago, Emily stood before Heaven at a projected eighty foot height. That was the maximum the Heavenly Projector was rated for. We want to duplicate that height for the two of you tomorrow - Vaggie will be a bit shorter of course. But Stolas is very tall, and..."

Charlie waved a hand. She got it. "And the Voxtek drone?"

"One of ssssseveral. Monitoring the communications setup Heavenside for the Vees."

Emily rolled her eyes. "I couldn't really say no to Hell drones in Heaven after learning Adam used Sundials in Hell to search for his missing Exorcist."

"True," Sir Pentious added, "But don't worry. I examined them before letting them power up. And the Sundials aren't letting them out of their ssssight."

Charlie let out a breath and stepped towards the drones. The Sundial immediately turned. A blueish beam of angelic light lanced out, striking Charlie between the breasts. The light then expanded, covering her. A spotlight laced with holographic gridlines.

Charlie's breath caught. She felt like a deer in the proverbial headlights. A strange thought about Alastor flitted through her head, gone before it fully formed. Then, just as abruptly, the light cut out. The golden drone turned back to focus its attention once again on its Hellish cousin.

"And that'ssss it," Sir Pentious announced. "Everything isss on track for an amazing wedding tomorrow!"

Charlie's heart flooded with relief and excitement at the serpent angel's words. Everything was going to be wonderful!

Week Five, Day Seven - Streets of Pentagram City, afternoon:

Cherri Bomb looked down at the atomic bomb cutout over her breasts. "Naw, Penty thinks it's too much for Heaven," she shrugged. "But it's perfect for Hell vacations."

Angel Dust scoffed. "Yeah, because when I think Hell, I think: tourist destination."

She laughed, but it felt forced. Yeah. Penty told Molly right. Zero stars.

The two of them walked back towards the Hazbin Hotel along the border of the Doomsday District, listening to the sounds of not-so-distant gunfire and explosions. It had been Cherri Bomb's impulse to stop at Eyes Scream on the way back. She'd hoped it would be nostalgic.

"Can't believe you actually wanted these," Angel Dust said, licking at the final scoop of what had been a triple-decker. He gave a slight shudder as his tongue hit a pupil.

"Yeah. Heaven's ice cream tastes so much better," Cherri Bomb admitted. Like, impossibly so. "But it's missing a textural thing, ya know?" Heaven's ice cream never had the occasional eye in it. One of Hell's little awfuls.

"Oof, looks like hellrat," she said, seeing what Angel Dust's tongue had found. They were never the eyes of demons. If you actually wanted that, you had to go to Cannibal Town.

Angel Dust scowled and tossed the rest of the cone, apparently having lost his appetite.

"So, what's it like, really?" Angel Dust asked as they reached the open gate of the Hazbin Hotel. "What do you do there?"

The angel paused, her eye roaming over the wrought iron gate. Finding herself comparing it to the ones of gold she had walked out of a little over an hour ago.

"Veg during the day. Work on our music. Party every night. Sex. Usually with Penty. Either crash at his place, or with the band," Cherri Bomb told him, trying not to sound bored out of her skull. "We've got this grouse place at the edge of the Noctilu. Swear to God, best clouds in Heaven."

Angel Dust made jealous sounds.

"Parties in Hell are far, far better," Cherri Bomb told him. "But the morning after in Heaven is fucking amazing." She smugged, tossing what was left of her cone. "So's the sex."

"So ya really doing okay?" Angel Dust asked as they rounded the Dazzle statue. "And it's everything we're striving for?"

Cherri Bomb paused. None of this had been a front, yet she suddenly felt like she was wearing a mask. And the facade was crumbling.

"Honestly?" She asked, stopping under the marquee.

Angel Dust paused in his reach for the door and stepped back, nodding to her.

"Ya remember telling me once ya sometimes felt like you were in the wrong body? Well, it's like that for my whole everything. Body's fucking grand. I've got afterlife dysphoria."

She looked around. "Thought coming back down here would feel like being back home again. But instead, it's like breathing acid."

Hell was just... it was poison. Even the parts that fed her. She had no idea how Emily handled dancing between the two. Yet part of her needed what she couldn't get up there.

"I'm facing it, though. Heaven, that is." She was grinning again. This was a challenge, and fuck if she wasn't going to beat it. "Got myself a battle plan."

Angel Dust grinned. "No way Cherri Bomb gets taken down by fluffy clouds and harp music!"

He opened the door into the hotel, ushering her through with his lower arms.

Vibrant piano music filled the parlor from a nearby room. If Razzle was still giving Sera piano lessons, the elder seraphim had gotten much better. But the discordant notes were more rebellious than the ascended demon expected from the fallen angel.

"I want the details," Angel Dust insisted as he moved to the bar, aiming for something to kill the taste of the hellrat eye. "All of 'em."

Cherri Bomb shook her head. "Let me get things solid first... which reminds me, where's little sis?" Next to Angel Dust, Crymini was the one down here that she most wanted to reconnect with. But the pseudo-teenage puppy was nowhere to be seen. "Cunt's not avoiding me, is she?"

Put Crym through the wringer, dying like I did.

"No way," Angel Dust assured her. "She's reconnecting with an old friend from her decades in the Doomsday District. You remember that bunny fellow she danced with at Neon Ant Farm?"

How could she forget the rabbit? Guy looked like he belonged in a theme park horror show. Little sis had pitched the hotel to him that night. Cherri Bomb would have liked to meet him.

"You should have told us you were coming," Angel Dust told her. "Guarantee she'd have stayed home. She misses you fierce. Want me to give her a call?"

"On whose phone?"

"Her own!" Angel Dust smirked. "I got us all phones. After what happened to you, we stay in touch better now."

Ouch.

Cherri Bomb checked the time. "My portal home is scheduled in under half an hour. By the time Crym got here, I'd be going. But tell her I'm coming back early tomorrow, and my whole morning is going to be nothing but hotel sister time."

Week Five, Day Seven - Pentagram City Center, afternoon:

"There's my everything!" Vaggie spread her wings, swooping over to land before Charlie and Emily as they stepped out of the golden portal, wrapping them with her wings.

The throuple embraced. When they stepped back, Charlie began looking around with an expression of awe. "I've never seen City Center so clean! And nice!" She paused, smiling to Emily. "I mean, except for the Heaven Embassy. It was always clean."

Vaggie nodded, taking a look around at the wide assortment of demons working to get City Center prepared for the wedding and celebration tomorrow. The place was busy.

"I'm told people have been here cleaning it up for the last three days." She paused as a muscular, monochromatic demon walked past with a trash bin carried on one of his exceptionally broad shoulders. She immediately imagined Angel Dust flirting with him. She wondered if Molly would.

And now I'm imagining those two challenging each other to him.

"That's one of Alastor's," Charlie commented.

"Yeah," Vaggie said. "I've been told we've got people here working for Alastor, Beelzebub and, apparently, the Vees." The last was said with less of a scowl than she would normally wear. She was in good spirits. She wasn't feeling quite forgiving, but she was willing to extend the benefit of the doubt after this morning.

"The Vees?" Charlie asked with an appropriate amount of confusion.

Emily perked, dancing on her toes. "Oooh, the trip for your dress went nicely?"

"Yes and yes," Vaggie replied. She spoke first to Emily. "Velvette was... professional. For once, I'd almost say nice." Then to Charlie. "The Vees have donated the lot across the street from the Embassy for the reception concert."

Most of the reception would take place in the park, but the concert required infrastructure that the park didn't provide. The lot where the Vees had intended to put their atrocious Exterminations Memorial a few months ago remained vacant and undeveloped save for the platform used for the news broadcast that the throuple had hijacked. And the billboard.

Vaggie's eye lifted upwards. The Vees had placed a huge, electric billboard directly across from the Heaven Embassy. Normally, it displayed advertisements for Velvette's Love Potion or Vox's Obey & Pay pseudo-religious indulgence program. But today, the program had been replaced with an announcement of the wedding and the concert after. She watched the billboard change.

Stay for the Reception Concert at the Vees Memorial Grounds

featuring VEROSIKA MAYDAY and Stigma
(Courtesy of Queen Beelzebub and the Vees.)

"Oh, that was nice of them!" Charlie exclaimed. Then hazarded adding, "Maybe Velvette's trying to be better towards you, Vaggie?"

Vaggie gave Charlie an adoring look. "Sure, let's pretend that's what this is." Let them attach their names to the reception. Vaggie barely cared. And calling it nice wasn't wrong.

"Beelzebub?" Emily asked, reading the billboard, her voice almost drowned out by a sound check from the concert stage.

"Yes!" Charlie cheered, adding. "I think she's in a relationship with someone in Mayday's band?"

Vaggie cocked her head. Charlie was radiating enthusiasm. But she never talked about Beelzebub before. Her call to Belphegor months ago didn't leave Vaggie with the impression her wife was on a first name basis with any of the Deadly Sins from the other Rings.

The sound of Lucifer's voice carried to them from somewhere near the stage. "Yes, yes, okay, I think everybody heard that." The Short King of Hell was close, obscured by the crowd.

"Hon, how well do you know the Deadly Sins?" Vaggie asked as they began to make their way towards the voice of Charlie's father. "Aside from dad?"

"Most of them, not at all," Charlie told her as she wove her way through the demons working around them and the ones who were there to watch. "Mom told me all the Sins used to run a circus together with dad as the ringmaster. But it didn't end great, and dad's only really been on speaking terms with Belphegor since." She paused, fingers raising to her mouth in thought. "I wonder if mom was just telling me a metaphor?"

"Anyway, dad sent out invitations, and Beelzebub is the only one who really responded. I've met her before." Hell's princess held up two fingers. "Twice. Dad got her to sing at our prom, and she threw my graduation party." Charlie gushed, "It was amazing!"

They paused to let a set of workers pass who were carrying a table, headed towards the park.

"Angel says Fizzarolli is coming up and bringing Asmodeus as his plus one. He and dad talked last week and they seem to be good. And, of course, Belphegor is coming with Sera."

"Insert affirming comment by Angel Dust," Emily teased. Apparently, her visit with Sera had gone well too. "Sera says Bel's a pillow princess," she said merrily, "I'm not sure what that means, but I think Sera likes it."

Vaggie was not going to comment on that.

"That's a cute name," Charlie laughed. "And true, nobody has better pillows than Belphegor."

Or that.

There were whispers all around them. A loud minority of them asking each other if Verosika Mayday was actually here today. Charlie heard her dad again and narrowed in on his location.

Emily huffed, whispering, "Lucifer is right here, and she's who they're eager to see?"

Vaggie held up as Emily paused at a voice directed her way. "Yes, I'm an angel," she said happily to the slug-like demon as they passed. "I'm one of the ones getting married tomorrow."

"On the same day as the royal wedding?" the slug fellow asked.

Vaggie took the blinking seraphim's arm and tugged her away, catching back up with Charlie. "Welcome to Hell, sweetie."

"Charlie!" Lucifer spotted his daughter before any of them spotted him. He pushed through the crowd to greet them. "Come on," he said, motioning for them to follow. "Bee is in the park. They've managed to sweep out the homeless and wash away all the... well, you really don't want to know. Anyway, Bee's going to put up one Hell of a spread tomorrow! And as promised, she made the wedding cake herself!"

Week Five, Day Seven - Hazbin Hotel first floor hallway, afternoon:

Lute held a bundle of clean bedsheets under her arm. It had been almost a week since her night terrors had left her waking to gold-stained sheets. But it happened again last night. Niffty had already taken care of it, but Lute wanted a backup set. If she woke in the middle of the night, she wanted to be able to shower and change the sheets before trying to sleep again.

Father, she's had enough.

Frederick von Eldritch's cruelties were fading with the slowness of damnation.

While Lute couldn't let herself fuck up Vaggie's wedding, Frederick was yet another reason to skip a personal attendance at the big event tomorrow. That abomination was Lucifer's friend; his presence could be expected. Lute didn't think she could handle that.

"Hey, Lute!"

Lute turned. She stared at the angel who had cornered her in the hallway just outside her room. If it wasn't for the golden star which had replaced the violent X in her eye, Lute might be able to deceive herself into believing Cherri Bomb hadn't inexplicably become the second Sinner redeemed at Charlie's increasingly less absurd hotel.

Halos could be stolen, after all. She'd just have to bullshit herself some excuse for the wings.

That wasn't going to happen. Here Cherri Bomb was: somebody else who fought to defend Charlie's hotel and her people. Against me. And had been given the very Heaven that Lute herself had lost.

Rightfully so. I was evil.

It took effort to think those words in past tense.

"Yes?" Lute asked.

"You and me. Outside," Cherri Bomb said. "Let's go a few rounds."

And the ex-Sinner's first desire was to play Exorcist. Lute's eyes narrowed. "No."

"Come on, cunt!" Cherri Bomb urged. "No silver. Just a good brawl. Maybe some kicking."

Lute just stared at her. She couldn't blame any Sinner for wanting to turn her into a golden smear. And Cherri Bomb was the least forgiveness-prone of Charlie's menagerie. It made sense she'd want to wreck her now that the cyclops wasn't at a demonic disadvantage. "I am not going to get into a violent fight with one of... us... the day before this marriage."

Cherri Bomb deflated a bit. "Okay. Yeah, that's reasonable." She moved to lean against the opposite wall, crossing her arms under her breasts. Lute felt a brief twinge of envy. "So tell me then: angels can hurt angels. How quickly do we heal?"

The thought occurred to Lute that the woman could just put her own face through a few windows and find out for herself. But no part of her wanted to actually say that. Especially not today.

"If we beat the gold out of each other today," Cherri Bomb asked, "We'd be okay for the wedding tomorrow, right?"

Lute sighed. "Yes. Anything short of actually maiming will heal swiftly. Even wounds from loss of limbs..." Or eyes. "...will seal within hours. Although the scarring will be permanent without the aid of Heavenly medicine."

She turned and fumbled with the doorknob to her room, working to open the door without dropping the sheets pinned beneath upper arm.

Cherri Bomb moved up behind her. Lute tensed for the attack. Instead, Cherri Bomb opened her door for her.

Lute paused, then walked into her room, pulling open the top dresser drawer and leaning to drop the clean sheets inside. She turned, expecting the cyclopean angel to have followed her in, but Cherri Bomb remained in the doorway.

"Where do I find Exorcists?" Cherri Bomb asked.

Lute tilted her head, her brow furrowing. "In Heaven."

Cherri Bomb barked a laugh. "Okay, let me rephrase: how do I find Exorcists?"

"You want to go around beating up Exorcists in Heaven?" She had only known this woman a month before the cyclops died, but Cherri Bomb hadn't struck her as stupid. Reckless, yes.

Cherri Bomb sighed, rolling her eye. "That's not... I mean, yes, but not like that." She let out a huff. "Look, have you ever seen the movie Fight Club?"

Week Five, Day Seven - Cannibal Town, afternoon:

Alastor whistled, twirling his cane as he walked into Cannibal Town. It was a lovely afternoon. The children were scampering about on whatever errands of mischief they had set themselves to. A trio of old biddies were swapping gossip in front of the arts and crafts store. He waved to Hannibal as the man stood behind the plate-glass window of his tailor shop, slipping a new dress onto one of his mannequins.

"Good afternoon, Bettie," he greeted a familiar face. "Hello, Snarl." He said to her dog.

"Alastor!" Bettie greeted back with a smile of dagger teeth. "Good to see you again. Looking forward to the broadcast tomorrow." Snarl started sniffing at his leg. "I'd go myself, but I don't trust Snarl around angels."

"Well, I'm pleased to hear I'll have at least one listener," the Radio Demon joked.

"You'll have plenty!" Bettie pshawed as she continued on. "The tea club are making a date of it."

It pained him to miss the wedding tomorrow. Which surprised him. He supposed he had actually grown fond of Charlie. There was no other explaining it. But it didn't matter. He would be in no proper state tomorrow to take a place on a public stage. Well, not one where any soul or Heavenly host could get a good look at him. And there were going to be a lot of eyes paying very close attention to the ceremony tomorrow. It would be risky enough appearing after, if briefly. Assuming Charlie still wanted him there at all.

To all good things.

The only one who could have facilitated Cherri Bomb's rescue was the psychopomp. That meant Death was active again. And Alastor felt certain Death wasn't going to get back into the game until he believed the same was assured for all of them.

And then there was Velvette. Charlie promised to handle her. And so far, nothing he could nail down had come of the younger Vee's knowledge of his chain. But he could not simply wait for the sword to drop. Alastor didn't like rushing things, but they were all under a clock that no one, not even he himself, could see.

Doom clocks were so much more polite when they stood in the center of the city for all to watch.

Alastor turned the corner and strode up towards Rosie's Emporium.

Week Five, Day Seven - Pentagram City Center, afternoon:

"Well, if it isn't Luci's little firestarter!" Beelzebub's voice rang out.

The vulpine honey bee Queen of the Gluttony Ring was hovering over the center of the City Center Park, directing the setup of the reception food tables. The entire park had been transformed into a fresh and glorious setting for the celebration, including plants and flowers Charlie had never seen, imported from Gluttony.

Charlie felt herself blushing painfully. "You still remember that?" Why?

"Girl, everybody remembers that," Beelzebub laughed. With a buzz, the exuberant Sin landed before them. "Good to see you again, Charlie. And these must be your brides! Whew, you sure can pick 'em!"

Still blushing a little, Charlie introduced the Sin of Gluttony to her wide-eyed brides, "Vaggie, meet Beelzebub. Emily, meet The Exception!"

Bee blinked. "What's this?"

Charlie smiled. "It's kinda a nickname for you. Emily's sister once told her she could enjoy all sins in moderation. Except yours, because gluttony in moderation isn't gluttony."

"HA! I'm the one that's too much for Heaven?" Beelzebub laughed as she extended her right hands to Vaggie and Emily. "I love that!" She smirked at Emily. "Enjoy me in excess, girl."

Vaggie shook the offered hand, drinking her in. "Wow. You. Are not what I expected."

Emily just stared a moment, more and more of her eyes opening. Suddenly, the younger seraphim laughed happily. "Oh! I get it! Because you attract more flies with honey than with vinegar!"

Queen Beelzebub blinked several times. Then let out an amused howl. "Never heard that one before!"

"You are really, really super pretty," Emily gushed. "And your tummy looks like a lava lamp!"

Charlie felt her blush getting worse.

"Aren't you the most adorable angel!" Queen Bee said, exuding effortless charm. "I never thought I'd get to host the reception for another seraphim getting married in Hell. You're much cuter than the last one."

"Hey!" Lucifer growled even as Bee winked playfully at him. Right in the Pride.

"And that's my cauldron, sweetie," Queen Bee told Emily. "I taste a bit of the energy from everyone at my parties. Turn it into honey."

"I want to taste your honey," Emily said softly, totally compromised. Charlie caught a flash of jealousy from Vaggie that she quickly suppressed.

"Oh, I bet you do," Bee purred, eyes twinkling. Charlie could see Bee was gearing up to have a lot of fun with angels tomorrow.

"Vaggie thought you..." Emily's words turned into murphles as Vaggie put a hand over her mouth.

"So what's this about a fire?" Vaggie asked rapidly, throwing the switch on this trolley problem of a conversation.

Charlie sighed. "I may have set Helsa's prom dress on fire."

"Charlie!" Vaggie was shocked.

"Yeah ya did!" Beelzebub supplied, smirking. "With her in it."

"Charlie!" Emily exclaimed with a dismayed gasp.

Charlie stared straight ahead, not looking at anyone. "Helsa had it coming."

"I think I need to know this story," Emily insisted. Her tone reminded Charlie that her wife was a judge in Heaven's Court.

Queen Bee tilted her head. "Ain't this the sort of stuff you talk about at a bachelorette party?"

"No," Lucifer chimed in from behind them. "It really isn't."

Charlie scowled. She would absolutely have preferred to avoid talking about this. But she wasn't going to have it hanging over the wedding. And she had at least warned Vaggie that she'd done things she wasn't proud of while dating Seviathan.

"Helsa killed a puppy," Charlie told them in the flattest voice she could manage. "And she hung it from a noose in my locker the morning before finals, knowing it would mess me up."

"La grandísima puta!" Vaggie growled as Emily let out a wounded squeak.

Charlie wasn't proud of setting Helsa on fire, but Helsa did deserve it. "So I accidentally spilled the punch bowl on Helsa's dress and accidentally offered to dry it with hellfire."

"I may have spiked the punch with a little Beelzejuice," Beelzebub chimed in. "Bitch lit up like the top of Belphegor's head."

"That was you!" Lucifer snapped. "I knew it!"

"No big deal. What's a party without people getting drunk? Besides, that girl had the worst energy I've ever tasted," Queen Bee said dismissively before wrapping two of her arms around Charlie. "Now come on, girl! Let me show you the cake!"

Charlie let the Queen of Gluttony drag her off, her wives and father in tow.

Week Five, Day Seven - Rosie's Emporium, late afternoon:

Rosie blinked, setting down her tea. The teacup clinked against the saucer. "A week?"

Alastor nodded. "With our combined Contracts at your disposal, a week should be more than enough time for you to eliminate the Vees." His smile was as broad and enigmatic as ever. Static crackled through his voice. "This coming week is ideal."

Rosie could think of only one reason Alastor would find it so. He wanted this business done while Charlie was out of town. Either he worried she would interfere, or he was worried that the Vees' retaliation if she failed would catch the newlyweds in the collateral. Alastor wanted this over and done before the throuple returned from their honeymoon.

"And what about you? This would leave you practically powerless for a week."

The man hadn't touched his own drink. That told Rosie that, despite all appearances, the Radio Demon was nervous.

"Never you worry about that, Rosie," Alastor said, a little touched by the concern. "I've taken care to bank a handful of Contracts with Husker that will be returned to me in short order." He pulled off his monocle and cleaned it. "Not many, but enough to keep up appearances." Alastor put his monocle back on. "Besides, not all of my power comes from Contracts."

Rosie stared at him over her tea. "Well, it will have to be at least two days. I am not going to start a fight that could spill into Pentagram City on the day of that sweet girl's wedding," she insisted. "Nor immediately after. I could use the time to get accustomed."

"I wouldn't ask you to!" Alastor grinned. "It would be extremely poor manners to take action until the happy throuple have left Pride." He finally reached for his iced tea. "Besides, I need that time to neuter Velvette's revenge."

Rosie cocked her head. "You already know what they plan?"

"Velvette, yes." Alastor's smile thinned. "But I'm afraid I haven't guessed what Vox is up to."

Alastor took a sip. "My, this is lovely, Rosie. Your iced teas always are, but there is something special about this one. Did you use anyone unique?"

The Overlord of the Cannibals shook her head, smiling at the compliment. "The difference is a new spice I've been growing in my garden." She noted, "What was left of Izzy may have been inedible, but it made splendid fertilizer."

Her friend knew better. "Once you had taken what you needed, of course."

"Of course."

Alastor continued, "The Vees haven't done anything public regarding Valentino's demise in over a month. Something is overdue."

Week Five, Day Seven - Jack's Place, Doomsday District, early evening:

Crymini sat on Jack's bed, scooping some of the pumpkin and chicken sausage hash she'd squirreled out of a dogfly bag. It's what Jack could scrounge that was good to hold food that had some damp to it. The hash didn't, but they used it anyway.

"It's getting late," Crymini noted, glancing at her phone. "Should scamper soon so the mom's don't worry."

"They suspect?" Jack asked between nibbles of hash. Him eating a piece at a time. Crymini couldn't blame. It was the tastiest food he'd probably had in a year or few.

"No," Crymini said. "But I think the cat does, way she had me under lockdown after. Keekee hasn't narked though. Like it's between us."

"The cat had you under lockdown?" Jack was skeptical.

"Cat's the hotel. It's a thing. Could have picked the locks," Crymini admitted. "But didn't want to upset her." The teenage puppy demon ate her last spoonful before adding, "Keekee's a solid."

"You know that sounds rubber-room-ready," the battered plush bunny demon said. "Even for Hell." He speared a piece of potato on the prosthetic skewer he wore over a paw for eating. Jack had trouble with utensils.

"She also watches me when I shower sometimes," Crymini told him as she scrounged the last bit of green pepper from her bag. "Have I mentioned the showers? With warm, clean water?"

"You make that hotel sound like paradise," Jack said, not for the first time. "Or Heaven. Complete with friendly angels."

"You'd get it if you met them." Crymini tossed away her bag. "Why not come see for yourself?"

"Hot showers, soft bed, delicious food several times a day, and nobody you need to fear cutting your throat at night? All free?" Jack shook his head. "You know too good to be true always is, Crym."

Crymini knew what to expect next cuz she'd say the same herself. "You want the catch."

Jack nodded. His good ear flopped over his face and he brushed it back upright. "It's either a scam or a cult."

Crymini bit back a growl. "I scan like I'm in a cult, Jack?" It was either that or he thought she was being played. Or both. And Jack knew her better than to think she'd get played easily.

"A scrape," Jack admitted, setting aside the box. "But just a scrape."

"Fine. Here are the catches." Crymini pulled up her legs, crossing them on the bed and leaned forward. "First, the place is legit. Weird as fuck, but totally true to the label."

Crymini spelled it out. "They really want to help you be a better person and have a better life. And not by some weird ruleset. Sure, that means there are rules and there are activities, but they aren't just annoying bullshit. Charlie, the bitch running the place, is one hundred percent in on helping people. And she's trying her best. All the moms are. So that shit really is there to help... even when it is annoying bullshit."

Like her, Jack was all too familiar with folks who just didn't, running places that phoned it in if they made the effort at all. With the sorts who ended up there, digging beyond rock bottom or looking to take advantage, those places tended to turn into hellholes of their own pretty quick in the DD.

So Jack knew what she was driving at wasn't just some sales pitch. He stared at her, clearly expecting her to say no different, since she'd said all that before. But she needed to emphasize.

"Second, the hotel is a whole found family thing. They'll take you in if you let 'em."

They took me in, of all bitches.

"This ain't like real family," she added. Real family, in Jack's experience, sucked. She could relate. Her own mother threw her the fuck away. She had no idea if her birth father even knew about her. From what she'd seen, the real families connected to the Hazbin Hotel were as good as real families got, and they were a clusterfuck of problems. "And it ain't like any pack or gang. Ain't for profit or power. Supporting each other is the whole fucking point."

"You might find yourself with a bunch of fuckers who actually give a shit about you and who you give a shit about in return. Like you and me." The puppy demon smirked at him with a bit of a snarl. "Don't know if you can handle that."

"Get speared," Jack chuckled. The challenge was subtle as a Fuck You, Dad concert.

Crymini barked a laugh back. Then put on her heavy. Cuz she was thinking about what the purple pin-up said earlier. Last catch was dank. "Third. The people there have some powerful enemies. The Hazbin Hotel is safer than the DD by fucking Rings, but it ain't safe. You stay there, you're gonna find yourself in the crossfire of shit way beyond us."

It was a fair warning. And that had Jack's attention. Boy didn't just expect a catch. He needed there to be one. His gut told him there was. Couldn't give the Hazbin Hotel a chance until he knew what it was. And this was the first time she'd really given him one.

Jack's expression was pensive. "Next time you drop in, I want to hear more about that." He glanced at her phone. "Whose phone you got today?"

Crymini nodded. Then gave a slightly yipping laugh. "My own, would you believe it? They gave me my own phone!"

"Got sick of you nicking theirs?"

"Probably." Definitely.

Jack pointed his skewer at the phone. "You on Sinstagram yet? We should follow each other. Best way to let me know next time you're feeling nostalgic..."

Spear me, Jack.

"...Or if that crossfire gets too hot and you need backup," the plush bunny demon finished.

Okay, that was a solid. "Not yet," Crymini admitted. "How do I set that up?"

Week Five, Day Seven - multiple locations, early evening:

The day was setting, casting bright flares of light and shadow across all seven Rings. And as below, so above.

.

In Sloth, the first notes rang through the halls of the Belphegor Estate as Sera's fingers touched down on the keys of the ivory grand piano. She began to play a gentle and melancholy tune, feeling the music guide her.

Sera played, silhouetted by the glowing pink light of Sloth's evening pouring through the windows.

The light of Belphegor's candle approached. There was a chair next to the piano just for this. The Sin sat down, leaning against the piano, listening to Sera play.

.

In Pride, Alastor stepped out onto the rear balcony of Rosie's Emporium. He turned back to Rosie, stretching out a hand. She took it, her steps gliding her through the doors and into the light in time to the music.

Alastor stooped, kissing her hand briefly. As he straightened, he began to sing.

"The city's aglow. The senses sharpen,
The prey calls for the hunt as dark shadows grow."

"But there's much too be done,
Before tomorrow."

.

In Heaven, Cherri Bomb stood naked at the window, staring out at the breathtaking golds and oranges and purples that painted the Noctilucent District outside the second floor windows of the Stigma penthouse. She felt the gentle hands of her serpent slide around her midriff. Felt his body press against her back.

All that "afterlife dysphoria" just evaporated in Sir Pentious' embrace. She more than just fancied the bloke. She was in love.

She was also a gigantic hypocrite.

Izzi's voice floated back into her mind: Deep down, you're bent and bloody savage.

From the floor below, the sounds of a violin rose to their ears, sweet and rich. Several members of the band could play multiple instruments. All could sing at least passably well, although she and Razor were definitely the lead vocals. In addition to her magic with the keyboards, Jasmine, to Cherri Bomb's surprise, played the violin.

Cherri Bomb chuckled as she sank into Sir Pentious embrace, suspecting Jaz was serenading them. That woman. Cherri considered dragging Sir Pentious into her bedroom, but the couch was closer.

The soft harmony of the violin joined the melody of the piano.

.

In Cannibal Town, Rosie curtsied to the Radio Demon on the rear balcony of her Emporium.

"The night grows colder," Rosie sang in response to Alastor. "The heart grows fonder."

"And as the options narrow, your plans grow bolder."

"The forecast calls for rain,
But not tomorrow."

Alastor summoned the Contract they had forged between them. Their dance began.

.

The green light of Greed invaded the club as the large jackal hellhound strode in, a pack of females clinging to him like his angelic steel-studded long coat. They were entertainment. But he had business to attend first. There was a vehicle in the parking lot that should not be there.

He directed the girls to order whatever they wanted from the bar. Most of them left him for wetter pastures.

Two still remained as he approached the young man who had arrived in the limousine parked across four spaces in the back lot. The jackal hellhound cleared his throat. The lights from the club flashed against the lines of gold embedded around his right eye, forming an Eye of Horus.

The young man looked up and grinned. It was the arrogant smile of the haughty and unimpressed. But the girls caught his interest.

The club's pounding beat added to the music along with the notes of the piano and violin.

.

"Sinners watch with wonder, lightning dancing in the distance."

Alastor's song rose into a bridge as Alastor and Rosie danced, sweeping across the balcony with fluid movements.

"Fearless of the thunder coming with the sound of Horses.
They'll run helter skelter when they feel the rain's persistence.
Where will we find our shelter if we don't control those forces?"

One by one, Alastor manifested the chains of his Contracts in time to the percussion neither of them could actually hear.

.

In the City Center, Charlie sat with Vaggie, tasting a few samples of the spread that Queen Beelzebub had prepared for the reception tomorrow. Everything was amazing. It was going to be a feast worthy of the Queen of Gluttony.

As they sampled, they watched Emily dance with Beelzebub, bathed in vibrant red. Bee had ordered one of Verosika Mayday's hits so the younger seraphim could hear a taste of what was in store for the concert following her wedding.

With a flash, Emily's raiment vanished, replaced by her bunny suit. Wow, that outfit is not modest. Charlie snuggled Vaggie close, proud of her for not growling.

The electronic symphony from the speakers filled the background, complimenting piano and violin, supplementing the beat as it filled the air, the unheard music rising to a crescendo.

.

"I release my chains to you whom I trust,
So when tomorrow comes, I will hold the reins."

Overhead, the Contract forged between the Radio Demon and the Queen of the Cannibals glowed a fiery red. Alastor stood beneath it, holding Rosie's hand as she turned in a graceful pirouette. The chains filled the air around them beneath flashes of eldritch green light, highlighted by a swirling dance of black and rose that spun with Rosie's movements.

"What they want from me?" Alastor sang, his voice dropping low, his visage growing dark. His eyes and smile crackling red. "What they hope to gain?"

"The machinations sought, I will face them free."

"Face those who hold the Keys,
Of tomorrow."

As the two Overlords sang, the chains held by Alastor slipped from his grasp and fell into Rosie's. All except for one. The last one was special, and he would handle it himself.

Week Five, Day Seven - Hazbin Hotel, evening:

The Hazbin Hotel shone brightly in the waning evening light, like a lighthouse against an angry red sky. An extremely gaudy, overly embellished lighthouse with a movie theater marquee. And preceding it, in a place of honor, a rather magnificent brass statue of a dragon. Dazzle.

Another loss. Another promise of alliance up in smoke. Another's dream not coming true.

Baxter wanted to be back in his laboratory. Working in solitude. He did not like people. He wasn't a social creature. But sometimes... very rarely... people were more important than an hour of work. Sometimes people needed tending to as much as experiments. He'd put this off too long.

Baxter approached the statue, looking up at it. Then down at the small goat-demon sitting on the rim of its base. The homunculi looked somber and reflective, matching Baxter's own mood beneath the itch to be elsewhere. Still, a small touch of a smile caught one side of his mouth.

"Charlie cried 'Enough!' and let slip the Razzle and Dazzle."

Razzle looked up at the anglerfish demon as he approached. Baxter pulled himself up onto the rim and sat next to him. Quietly.

Razzle stared at him with a curious expression. His eyes moved to the light dangling off Baxter's head. The scientist could see the glimmer of recognition in them. Or maybe that was just the reflection of his own lure.

Baxter turned his gaze up to the memorial. "At least he died in glorious battle, fighting for her," Baxter said finally. "That's something... I guess."

Razzle's expression grew sad. The goat-dragon nodded, looking away, then up at the face of his memorialized twin.

"Dazzle is dead but not forgotten and not gone," Baxter told him. "Condensed."

Razzle stared at him, confused and uncertain how to take such a statement.

The evening grew a little darker. The lights around the statue clicked on, illuminating it. Bathing the two of them in light from below.

Baxter touched a finger to Razzle's chest. "All the best things in Dazzle are in you too. You carry it all now, for both of you. It's a lot, but you're doubly strong for it."

One of these nights, I hope to show you where you came from.

Week Five, Day Seven - Hazbin Hotel bar, late evening:

Husk put an extra ice cube in Charlie's Sangria before passing it to her. "I'm holding everyone to two tonight," he told the hotel's premiere "mom" as she took the drink. "Not going to be responsible for anyone having a hangover the morning of your big day."

Charlie smiled gratefully. "That's thoughtful!" She began nursing her drink. He was pretty certain she drank for the taste more than the buzz. Although God knew she could use the relaxation.

God. Or the Throne. Or whatever the fuck was up there. Assuming It was looking out for them. If not, fuck 'em.

He turned to his other patron. The purple porn vixen had already consumed her allotted two. "Anything non-alcoholic I can get you?" he asked.

Vanexa looked up from her phone. She was reading porn from the fanfic site again. Not, he suspected, as casually as before. The amateur flights of sexual fantasy weren't just stories now. They were possible scripts.

"Please, if we have juice to spare, Master," she said. "If not, water."

"She really likes calling you that, doesn't she?" Charlie giggled.

Husk nodded. He had gotten used to it.

Their Contract had become the sticking point in the negotiations with Ms. Pinkle. The Vees required a soul-binding Contract. Vanexa did not want to be freed from a master she had attached to.

Working with Pinkle on Contract design gave the woman some leeway, it seemed. And she grasped it for all it was worth, pulling a provisional Contract out of her ass that would allow Vanexa to work for the woman, giving Pinkle a lien on her soul and a soul-binding Contract should Husk ever part ways with the vixen. All with an Exit Clause crafted based on Husk's instruction. Vanexa could end the Contract herself if she really wanted to.

Husk knew the vixen well enough to suspect she would never want to lose her chain enough to break it. Which meant he couldn't release Vanexa without giving her to Pinkle. Which was not going to make Emily a happy angel.

Emberlynn was strangely entangling.

Vanexa hadn't shaken on it yet. She was taking a couple days to think it over. Something the new Dealmaker was surprisingly open to. The lack of pressuring was... probably designed to accentuate that she wasn't Valentino. And more likely to coax people into signing their souls to her than any pressure would.

It had to be a front. There was no way the woman was actually just like that.

The wording of the Contract was something he had never seen before, but the part that really caught his interest was the Contract Transferal Clause that ensured any Contract that Vanexa took with any of the Vees would shift ownership within their ranks if the original Dealmaker became permanently removed from their ranks.

That was a new game at the Overlords' table. For all their buffoonery, the Vees could be downright scary.

Husk turned his mind to the requested drink. Crymini would bite his head off if they ran out of orange juice for her morning screwdriver. But he had cranberry juice to spare. He'd stocked, intending to add a cranberry-rum cocktail bowl to the bachelorette party that never happened.

Husk dipped into the fridge beneath the counter, pulled a chilled bottle, and poured the purple liquid into a tumbler with a couple ice cubes. He passed the drink to Vanexa. "Want a tiny umbrella with that?"

The vixen gave him a flat look and took the drink.

"Good. I'm almost out," he rumbled. "They're on backorder." Odd.

He watched Vanexa as she took a long but cautious sip. Then tapped at her phone, changing which story she was reading. She did that a lot, he'd noticed. Interesting habit.

A shadow fell over the bar. After decades of slavery, Husk knew it was Alastor's without even looking. The man was leaning over Charlie. "Eve of your big day, Charlie. A drink to calm the nerves?"

Charlie gave a hesitant chuckle. "I'm just hoping everything goes as wonderfully as we've planned," she told him. "There are going to be a lot of people watching. Emily's even opening up a giant window to Heaven over City Center."

Husk blinked. "Uh... is that really a good idea?"

Charlie waved a hand. "It will be above the pentagram." They wanted it that high just in case a demon decided to take pot shots at angels. "And there will be other protections."

"Well, I am certain it will be a beautiful ceremony," Alastor told her. "A day to remember."

Charlie smiled brightly. "Thank you, Alastor. I really wish you would be there."

"No no." The Radio Demon shook his head. "I have listeners counting on me. But don't worry. I'll be there in the morning to run a final check on my equipment, and I wouldn't miss the reception, so I'll see you directly before and after."

Listening to Charlie's sigh of acceptance, Husk poured himself a tumbler of cranberry juice as well. Honestly, he believed Alastor not being there was for the best.

"Also, small thing," Alastor said casually. "I'm going to need to borrow your wives for an hour or two on the morning of your honeymoon. Sorry for the inconvenience."

Husk paused, stoppering the cranberry juice, his ears perking.

Charlie's expression melted into one of confusion. "What?"

"Just a little affair that I need their help with. It will be done and over before you know it."

Charlie cocked her head. "Phrasing!" The princess laughed it off. "We're not going to be in Pentagram City, or even Pride. Can it wait until we get back?"

"I'm afraid not."

Charlie's smile faltered. "What do you need Emily and Vaggie for?" Suspicion crept into her voice. "And why are you asking me and not them?"

Almost jovially, the Radio Demon answered, "Let's just say I've decided it's time to meet my maker." A pause. "So to speak."

Husk dropped the bottle of cranberry juice as an icy chill swept through him.

"And why do you need my wives for that?" Charlie questioned.

The sound of radio distortion filled the air. "Really, Charlie? I'm disappointed," Alastor said. "I thought you would have read the whole book by now."

A numbness was crawling up Husk's limbs through his fingers and toes. Dread. And with it, a surge. He couldn't let this happen.

"I have!" Charlie protested. "Hell, that weird crap at the end had me worried we had an entirely different Elder Above to worry about. That Michael could be War. I spent a week and a half stressing about that."

Alastor cocked his head with a crackle. "No no," he said with clear amusement. "Thankfully not. No, if Michael was War, we would have an entirely different set of problems." The Radio Demon stared Charlie up and down. "But... that is very insightful. Despite being wrong."

Charlie was too perturbed to bask in the compliment.

"I've changed my mind," Alastor said. "I want you to come along too."

"No!" Husk roared.

Alastor's eyes narrowed. The radio distortion in his voice grew. "Husker, this is really not your concern."

Husk growled, glaring at him, ears flat. "You cannot take them to see the Baron. That guy is fucking Death!" he spat.

He turned to Charlie. "Don't do this! If things go sideways, there's no climatic chase, no harrowing escape. He'll just end Vaggie and Emily." A heavy breath. "You too, if you go."

Charlie's suspicion crumbled into fear. She stared between Husk and the Radio Demon who once held his chain.

Charlie shook her head violently, waving her hands across her. "No, Alastor. I'm not going to ask my wives to face Death! Especially not on the first day of our honeymoon!" Her face scrunched in exasperation. "What were you thinking?!"

"I'm thinking," Alastor said with polite calm, "That even if things do go poorly, and Baron Samedi does kill them, that will be his doing, not yours. You will not have caused them any harm."

What the fuck!? As if Charlie would care more about feeling responsible than the death of her wives!

Charlie was on the same page. She stared at the Radio Demon with a mixture of horror and incredulity. "So what? What difference does that make!? I am not going to risk Emily and Vaggie for you!"

"But you will," Alastor told her with cold civility. "As a Favor to me."

Oh fuck.

Charlie froze. Her expression crumbled. The fingers of one hand reached tentatively to her neck. Husk could tell she was feeling the chain and collar there for the very first time. The one that not even Emily could see.

With a sinking sensation, Husk realized he couldn't stop this. Nobody could, except maybe Alastor himself. And he wasn't going to.

Charlie's eyes teared up. "Fuck you, Alastor!" she whispered helplessly.

Week Five, Day Seven - von Eldritch Estate, night:

The black and malachite limo rolled to a stop in front of the von Eldritch mansion. The jaws of its midsection mouth opened, saliva stringing between the sharpened teeth.

Seviathan pushed himself up off of the back tongue, wobbling a little. He nearly fell back into the lap of the sweet thing he'd scored himself tonight.

Fucking Anubis-looking motherfucker comes in draped in bitches and starts asking about my ride and, of all things, my sister? You ought t' thank me for takin' your hottest ho and not giving you Helsa in return.

The sadist in him told him he should have given the jackal hellhound her number. Dear rotten sis had been extra obnoxious all month and could have used the stress toy.

Seviathan grinned, thinking about Niffty stabbing his sister. Several times. He really should seek out that media demoness Niffty was riding with and see if she could provide video.

It took a moment of standing upright in the open limo before the von Eldritch son could wrangle his mind through the alcohol haze enough to focus on the hellhound and offer her a hand out of the seat. She was reacting to the family limo with a sort of revulsion that told him this was strictly a one-night stand.

Enough Beelzejuice and even I can get hammered.

Good thing too. Father was back in town, and Seviathan knew he wouldn't like why.

He had barely helped the woman out of the limo, registering her disgust and relief, followed by awe at the mansion towering above and sprawling out. Wealth was worth it just for that look.

A pustulant schlorping whispered from the mansion as black ichor gurgled through the cracks in the front door. Seviathan's hellhound "date" let out a yip of fright, ears back. She wasn't going to last the night. The bitch was lucky she was hot.

Frederick rose from the pooling black, shedding off ichor. "In the house. We need to talk."

"Kind of busy tonight," Seviathan told him.

"No, you're not," Frederick told him as a black tentacle writhed out of the pool at his feet, grabbing the hellhound from beside him and placing her back inside the limo.

His father strode past him and tapped on the front window. "Take her home," he said, addressing the black and malachite limousine. "Or eat her. I don't really care."

The jaws snapped shut and the engine gave a hungry rumble.

Seviathian sighed and then followed his father inside. "You have any idea what I went through to score her?" He knew his father didn't care, but he was just intoxicated enough to protest in futility. "If this is about the wedding tomorrow, I'll be there." Grumbling, he added, "Without a plus one."

"This isn't about Charlotte Morningstar's wedding," Frederick von Eldritch told him as they walked through the foyer and forward parlor. Green fire danced in twin fireplaces. "It is about yours."

Fuck. Seviathan stopped at the base of the grand stairs beneath the paragon chandelier. "I am a von Eldritch, father. I should choose whom I marry for myself."

Frederick spun on him. "And you should have. But you threw that time away bedding hellhounds and housekeepers!" His eyes flared, his features disappearing to shadow as every line and form in the mansion became painfully sharp and hard. He could feel slivers of razor blades crawling through his veins as his father's displeasure projected into his mind.

"The wedding tomorrow could have been yours," his father said. "Lucifer's daughter was given to you on a silver platter and you tossed her aside."

"We weren't compatible," Seviathan said, his own voice growing hard.

He admired Charlie, but they just did not function together, as much as he wished otherwise. Charlie felt the same. They weren't going to stay together out of convenience. The break-up had been amiable. Lucifer understood that. The guy never wanted anything for Charlie that he believed Charlie herself didn't want.

Why am I the one with the father who just can not get this?

Frederick von Eldritch straightened. "I have finished negotiations for your wedding. Since you cast away your one chance to marry laterally, and there is no one above us to arrange with, this will be a step down. But politically sound. And several steps up from fucking a maid." He looked towards the front door. The limo was still idling outside, engine rumbling satedly. "Or a dog."

Seviathan glared in rebellion as his father produced an envelope.

Helsa doesn't have to deal with this shit. But he said nothing on that front. The last thing he wanted was another round of his father's less than kind comparisons.

"Paimon has been quite reasonable," Frederick von Eldritch told him. "You have a few months before the arrangement begins. Everything is set in stygian steel, so even you can't fuck this up."

Seviathan snatched the envelope resentfully. "Welcome home, father. As always, such a pleasure to have you back."

Week Five, Day Seven - Hazbin Hotel, night:

The Radio Demon walked the hallways of the Hazbin Hotel.

One last chain. One last person he had to disappoint tonight. This one was truly going to hurt.

But it will be worth it.

Alastor's walk took him to the balcony above the parlor. He spotted her in the chandelier that hung over the room. "Niffty, dear. We need to talk."

Niffty stopped cleaning the bulbs and poked her head between the spokes of the light. "Okay!" Within a moment she was at his feet, looking up at him expectantly, her eye large and innocent, her stare a knife.

"Niffty, darling," Alastor said, the radio static in his voice dying completely away. "I have terrible news. I'm afraid I'm going to have to let you go..."

Niffty's demeanor collapsed. Her eye welled with tears. Her lips trembled. Her body quivered. "L-let me g-go?"

"From our Deal," Alastor said, still smiling. He didn't feel like smiling. But appearances must be kept. "The chain between us is no longer... convenient for me."

"NOOOO!"

The woman was sobbing. And angry. And, he supposed rightfully so.

For the first time, or at least the first he could remember, the suffering he witnessed was not entertaining. He wished to turn it off. To change to another station.

But that was always the one saving grace - if one believed in grace or salvation - of a blank Contract. It could not be bartered or gambled away. (To that end, he suspected the vixen Vanexa was more clever than she seemed.) It could not be transferred or sold.

Besides, this Contract had meaning. He would give it the respect of his personal attention.

"I am sorry, Niffty," he told her earnestly as he manifested her chain for the last time. "I am loathe to do this. You have been my best."

It was a feeble chain. A blank Contract. Destroying it as the tiny woman wept and stomped and protested below him was simultaneously the easiest and hardest thing he had ever done.

Week Five, Day Seven - Charlie's, Vaggie's and Emily's bedroom, night:

Vaggie and Emily were kissing when Charlie entered. That warmed her heart. Right around the cold, sharp shaft that had been driven through it.

Charlie trudged to her favorite chair and sat down. They had noticed her entrance, but that wasn't cause to break the kiss. If anything, that ensured it would continue a while longer. They knew she liked to watch them together.

This time tomorrow, they would be married. Officially, in the eyes of Heaven and Hell. The thought was wonderful. A brilliant shining silver band in the sky... lined with dark cloud.

Do it willingly or be compelled? Charlie wondered if this was how her mother felt.

"Charlie?"

The kiss had broken and her wives were looking at her with concern. Their voices were simultaneous. They could tell she'd been crying. Before she could answer, they were already at her side.

Charlie loved them so very, very dearly.

"Alastor called in his Favor," she said slowly.

"That fucker!" Vaggie already had her spear in hand. "What is he making you do?"

"Not me," Charlie said. "You. The morning after our wedding, he needs the two of you to help him visit the loa who holds his chain."

Charlie heard the questions spill from her wives.

"What?!"

"Why?"

"How?"

"I... don't know," Charlie admitted. "But I have to persuade you to do this, or I break my end of our Deal..." She screwed her eyes shut tight. "Fuck it! Let him destroy me. I'm not going to!"

Charlie felt a pressure on her mind. A push. The collar tightened around her throat. A warning.

Her hands went reflexively to her throat, trying to clutch at the metal collar as she felt it tighten. Cutting off her air. She couldn't lay a finger on it. Her lungs began to burn. She felt a panic rising in her, despite knowing this was just a gentle threat. It would compel her if it had to.

"You already have," Emily said softly. The feeling of the chain evaporated, and Charlie gasped wretchedly.

Vaggie grasped her, holding her. "Charlie, we told you before, whatever the Favor, we'll help you see it through. Nothing Alastor can make you do could change that."

Charlie swallowed, her throat hurting. She heard those words. Understood them. Loved the woman saying them. Loved them both more than anything. She knew they would do anything for her...

...but this was Death!

Emily's wings wrapped around them. With a warm flare of light, she took her full seraphim form. "We love you. With a love far stronger than Death."

"Or I could just run Alastor through and end this now," Vaggie offered with a low growl.

Charlie felt a hurt urge not to dissuade her. "No, Vaggie," she said reluctantly. Words to express why that was a bad idea danced elusively before her.

After a moment of quiet from her partners, Vaggie spoke up again. "I learned how he defeated Overlords today. How he turned them into screams on his radio broadcast." The tone of her voice told Charlie it was as horrifying as she had avoided imagining it was.

"But... I've been thinking," Vaggie said with hesitation. "And I think maybe there really is someone up there watching out for us. Maybe God really is on our side."

Charlie looked up, feeling desperate for any seed of hope. Emily was staring at Vaggie with surprise.

"Alastor shreds souls by grabbing Sinners and throwing them deep into the Other," Vaggie told them. "Husk said Alastor calls those tentacles of his from the Other, so I'm guessing that's how he does it."

Charlie cringed, mentally echoing Emily's whimper.

Vaggie continued, "But the day the Radio Demon arrived here, we saw him do that to someone. And that someone crawled back out intact."

Charlie blinked away tears. "Sir Pentious!"

The Sinner who, saved that day, would find redemption months later. "I think... maybe... that was an honest-to-God miracle."