Chapter Text
Chapter Seven
Monsters and Saints
“Oof, looks like they killed Travis. Least he got the bitch one good stroke before…” Vox says, before his TV face glitches. “Wait, that blood’s golden…”
He and Valentino look at the stab wound in Sera’s side, and even Ms. Mayberry flicks a glance at it. Sera also notices that the other prisoners- whom she’d ignored in her adrenaline rush to get down here and through the short battle with the guards- are not as interested. They are semi-unconscious at best, lacking Ms Mayberry’s strength of will; only that demon Sera had seen with the semi-Overlord seemed to be paying attention, the one she called Hero, but she wasn’t moving much.
(Not trying to draw attention? Some part of Sera wondered- but not a very large part. Most of her was just searing hurt, fuck, hurt, the only hurt she’d had before this were papercuts, she’d never been so wounded before, hurt, God above, how did anyone function through all this pain?)
“Why the fuck is it gold?” Valentino asks, but even as he says it, he comes to some conclusion that makes him emit a high-pitched squeak. “Fucking- Vox, Vox! Remember that dead angel Velvette found?!? Golden blood! Fucking- golden blood!”
“No way…” Vox says, shaking his head. “What are you, some Exorcist got lost, bitch?”
“What Exorcist would run around healing demons?” Valentino squeaks in amusement… but he recovers faster than his boyfriend, and there is suddenly a sharp grin spreading on his face. “Porn starring an angel. A first in Hell. Oh, we are going to have fun exploring your holes.”
Sera would respond but she just wants to puke from the pain in her side. How deep did that knife go? She is bleeding and she has never bled like this before, never been hurt like this before- the worst she'd suffered in Heaven were papercuts, she has nothing to compare this hurt to, no experience in handling it.
But someone else responds for her.
“You’ll have to get through me first,” Mayberry growls, her hair a crown of fire.
“We will,” Vox says, so casually that Sera believes him. She’s seen him when he’s dealing with those he thinks are on his level, particularly Alastor, whom he seems to believe is his rival; against them, Vox is frantic, desperate, all words and bluster, can't shut himself up.
But just two words?
This is Vox when he’s confident he's got the problem outclassed, and Sera does not like that.
“Mmm, still, I hate to do business before pleasure,” Valentino muses. “Vox, por favor, would you do all the killing for me? The others here are extraneous.”
“You hate anything that comes before pleasure,” Vox gently teases, elbowing his boyfriend.
“Guilty as charged,” Valentino says with a chuckle, stroking Vox’s chin with the back of one of his upper hands, keeping the gun trained on Sera.
“And you know I’ll do it,” Vox says. “You sure you want to miss out?”
“Si,” the monstrous moth replies. “And I do hate to leave all the killing to you, you know I do… but I have such a new toy to play with! And it’s one nobody’s ever had before in Hell. I can see it now- we’ll call the series Heavenly Gates… or perhaps Sexy Saint? Who knows? Maybe we’ll make them separate series. Get you into a nun’s habit first, set up the studio to look like a church… yes, I see it now…”
Vox chuckles, but then pauses, his left eye briefly becoming a searching spyglass symbol before he speaks up again.
“Val?” he says, and a huge grin spreads across his face.
“Hmm?” his boyfriend says.
“Remember that rumor from Heaven? The one that started with the cannibals,” Vox says. “The Lost Seraph?”
(Underneath the pain, Sera’s heart plummets.)
“No, the fuck is a Seraph and why would I listen to the flesheaters who’ve lost one?” Valentino says, rolling his eyes. He wasn't one to keep up with the news, apparently. “I hate those pendejos anyway. Never can sell any fucking porn to them and none are desperate enough to make deals with anybody but fucking Rosie. You’d think they’d at least like the vore stuff but they seem to be offended by it, the fucking snowflakes... ”
“Val, none of that fucking matters right now,” Vox says, grinning as his eye symbol becomes a ! It’s disconcerting, and Sera would be more weirded out by it if she wasn’t currently fighting off the urge to curl up in a ball and cry from the pain. “The Lost Seraph… the Monster of Heaven... I think she's right in front of us!”
Sera wished she had the strength to rise up, but what little might she could corral faded at the wide-eyed look Mayberry sends her way, shocked and surprised.
“The puta who ordered the purges?” Valentino asks, because even he knew about that.
“Yes!” Vox exclaims. “An angel, down here, if it was an Exorcist she'd have went home! Let me see her face, I've got a picture right here!”
He's not kidding; his facial screen converts into an image of Sera, one she vaguely recognizes as being taken by Emily on her phone, some years back. Hell's news had somehow gotten a hold of it- maybe Charlie gave it to them?- and it was how Hell knew her face.
She wants to say something, to defend herself, to move; but Mayberry's look is destroying her, to have someone who was so kind look so disgusted at the possibility of Sera being who she is, the crown of fire dying down as confusion and trepidation overtake the anger...
Sera can do nothing as Valentino swaggers over, all confidence, holstering his many guns and reaching out to her face.
“No,” she manages to whisper; but Valentino has never honored a no in his life, and he does not honor hers now.
She makes an attempt to defend herself, but she’s so hurt and weak right now, it makes the wound in her side worse when she tries to move; she can’t use the spear because it’s the only thing keeping her semi-upright, and taking a hand off of it is torture. Pointless, too; even when she manages to lash out with a backhand, Valentino, no stranger to battle, dodges her clumsy blow easily. His many hands are harder to dodge for Sera, particularly after- irritated with her- he kicks the wound in her side, nearly making her vomit and pass out.
By the time she recovers, he has unwound the rag-bandages covering her face, and revealed her.
“That’s her!” Vox croons with joy as Sera returns from her near blackout. “She’s here! That’s her!”
“The fucking Monster of Heaven is the Saint of Hell?!?” Valentino blurts out. “No fucking way!”
“Holy shit,” Hero says, having given up on pretending to be unconscious; she’s staring with surprise at Sera’s revealed face.
Mayberry’s face is simply… horrified.
(Sera’s mind snaps back to her gift, compares her past kindness to her current disgust… and the guilt is so overwhelming that for a moment, she forgets the pain of her body, overwhelmed by the pain in her heart.)
“Yes fucking way!” Vox laughs. “Just- fuck, Val, we’re gonna be the biggest thing down here! Fucking Alastor’s gonna ask to get some screen time after this and I’m gonna piss in his stupid fucking face, fuck him! This capture- just- fucking- Val! You have any idea what some demons will pay to take a swing at the motherfucking Monster of Heaven?!?”
“Or… more…” Valentino hisses, grin widening. “Wonder what they'd pay to fuck her...”
“Fucking A!” Vox says with a laugh.
“Text Velvette,” Valentino says with a squeak of excitement. “She can get the networks boiling with the news.”
“Already on it!” Vox laughs, a phone image appearing on his face as his powers sent messages to the last member of his little alliance- including a color photo his left eye snapped quickly.
(It is perhaps a testament to the shocking nature of the news he conveyed that, near the edge of their territory with the troops, Velvette straight up drops her phone after reading the message, a thing she has literally not done since she got to Hell.)
Sera’s mouth is dry and her stomach is plummeting and she hurts and the looks on their faces… it is too much. Perhaps she should have passed out; it would be better than… this.
“Fascinating,” Valentino says- then, noticing Mayberry’s horrified expression, smiles even wider. “You didn’t know, did you? What the puta was. What she’s done.”
“…No,” Mayberry says, her fire dying. “I… I only knew her as the Saint, not…”
“The best whores are like that,” Valentino says, the oil of his voice almost smooth now, educational, almost... paternal. “Good at pretend. Good at getting the johns to think they care... Like you thought she did, right?”
“…She’d helped some of mine,” Mayberry says quietly, and Valentino laughs, a mixture of high-pitched squeaks and chainsaw chuckles.
“She was just rooting around Hell gaining sympathy,” he snarls. “She knew she couldn’t hide forever. Figured she does enough sweet deeds- especially to a young sinner like you, one who still smells like Earth- oh, I bet she figured you wouldn’t have lost anyone to the Exterminations! She was cozying up to you…”
“Ooh, smart of her!” Vox says. “Ms. Mayberry over there- dumb name by the way, you should change it- is an up-and-comer among the Sinners, a wannabe Overlord. Bet she figured she could ride you all the way to the top!”
“Well, she’ll be riding something,” Valentino hisses, and him and Vox high-five.
Sera should say something. Do something.
But her heart is falling out of her, because that look in Mayberry’s eyes…
I have been fooling myself, and Carmilla is wrong.
I will never be anything but the Monster.
She cannot hold back the tears, two of them, that fall out of her eyes, and trail slowly down her cheeks.
Ms. Mayberry sees her tears- how could she not? She is studying Sera like she wants answers that the Seraph simply cannot give… save one.
“It’s true,” she admits to Mayberry miserably. “The… being the Monster part. Not the rest. Just wanted to help…”
And, finally, the two words that sum up everything inside her, ever since she came to Hell.
“I'm sorry...”
“Sure ya are,” Vox says, rolling his eyes as his lover laughs.
“The whore’s crying!” Valentino roars triumphantly, pumping two fists in the air. “Ahahahahaha! She’s fucking crying! Oh, that’s good… hmm.”
He turns to Mayberry, who is still looking at Sera, as if she is paused in time, mid-thought.
“In fact… Mayapple or whatever- you take your people and go,” Valentino says. “ I want to see the look in her face when you leave them all behind.”
“Oh, nasty!” Vox laughs. “And hey, Velvette’s texting back. Finally. What’d she do, drop her fucking phone?”
The duo of Overlords are distracted talking, after that. Velvette apparently has already sent the word out and is busy cheerfully freaking out with the other two; the three fall into a discussion that cuts everyone else out of the room. Sera, miserable, cannot look at them, can only look at Mayberry, and pray she bleeds out before…
Before what? Her guilt asks her. You will deserve all they do to you.
And she has no answer to that.
But because of the Overlords being so distracted, Sera is the only person in the room to see Mayberry's look... change, to see her look at Sera not with horror, nor surprise, but with…
Sympathy.
Sera is the only one to see the red growing in her eyes, red so hot it starts to glow blue, and then white, white hot, two tiny pinpricks in the center of her eyes- suns yet in the womb, not ready to be born yet, but capable of it, a sign of strength yet to be. Sera is the only one to see her hair burst once more into a crown of fire, hotter than before, with hints of that pure white blaze- of fire at its most glorious- in its heart.
But everyone in the room feels the heat flooding off of her as she makes her choice.
They are stunned and caught by surprise. The moth squeaks, Vox temporarily fritzes, Hero gasps... and Sera stares in disbelief as the angry heat wraps around her, not to hurt, but to protect, snuggling up close to her like a blanket on a cold night.
Mayberry is the only one to act in that moment, and she says nothing. She strikes in silence; perhaps she felt that all that had to be said had already been said.
So, without words, she lunges.
But not at Sera.
Instead, she leaps at Valentino, and midair she lands the most beautiful haymaker Sera has ever seen, right to the pimp's face, sending the moth sprawling, embers of burning anger trailing off of her knuckles and leaving his cheek singed.
(Sera will never forget the sight.)
“You fucking cunt!” Vox yells, and there is suddenly a knife in his hand, and wounds that he cuts open so quick that it is less like he is attacking and more like he is just manifesting them onto Mayberry. She tries to fight back, and her sheer fury gives her some advantage, the few blows she lands are telling; but she lands so few. Vox is simply too much, too fast, too good at reading her movements; it is like watching a bull be torn apart by a bullfighter. All Mayberry’s furious strength can do nothing if she just can’t hit him, and all the while that she is trying, Vox’s knife is dancing and singing in his hands as he cuts her and cuts her.
He is a swarm of stinging insects, and worse, when Mayberry manages to finally hit him- a blow that sends him sprawling back- he steps it up; he begins to summon illusory copies of himself, all the same, everywhere, and Mayberry is stuck punching intangible light while the real Vox slices her up.
(More light, used to trick; more echoes of her old self. Sera was right, the Vees really are a mirror of hers.)
“Stand back, I’ll kill the puta myself!” Valentino hisses as he rises up, rubbing his already-swelling and singed cheek, drawing a gun- but he does not see that he is near Hero, now, that Mayberry’s punch has thrown him to her side.
Hero flings her body off the wall, flying up in an awkward pendulum, rising up just high enough to reach out and kick Valentino.
“Saint!” she screams as she does so, Valentino barely ruffled but definitely annoyed and surprised, thrown off target. His bullet hits soft dirt and goes nowhere, the sound of the gunfire so loud it nearly deafens Sera to Hero's next words. “Help her!”
Valentino turns with a hiss towards Hero.
“Fucking whore!” he screams, and he is bringing the gun up, his left bottom hand already on the trigger...
He is going to kill Hero. He is going to kill her for the crime of having sort of known Sera, just as Mayberry- who is so much better than Sera ever was, much less is- will die for the crime of being kind to Sera. All these people will die because Sera was in their lives...
She is...
She is...
She is so fucking sick of tragedy.
And suddenly there is no pain, there is only rage.
She rises on feet that don’t want to hold her, letting out a scream so base and primal that she cannot believe it is tearing from her throat. She screams and she rises on stumbling feet, the pain is still there but she will not let this happen, she has written the vastest tragedy in the universe and she will not let another be made while she can stop it. This day will not end with those who deserve to live dead and those who deserve to die alive.
She will not let it.
(Maybe it helps that Mayberry's in the room, her crown of fire might be lending weight and authority to Sera's own fury... but maybe not, if for no other reason than that Mayberry's wrath is a lot more composed and controlled than the berserk rampage that's filling Sera's skull right now.)
“Thou shall not!” she commands with all the authority she once had; and in tandem with Heavenly commandment, she enacts Hellish punishment. She grabs Valentino's gun-wielding hand in both her own- only realizing at that moment that she'd unconsciously tossed the spear aside as she stood up, had wanted to hit him with her own bare hands- and on pure furious instinct, tugs with both hands.
In two different directions.
Valentino loses his arm below the elbow, Sera ripping it clean off. He hadn’t quite had the gun lifted up to Hero yet, so when his dying finger pulls the trigger in its death throes, all that happens is that an angelsteel bullet sinks its luxurious, expensive ass into the stone walls, the Heavenforged metal drilling a foot or two into the Hell stone.
“FUUUUUU-“ Valentino starts to scream, but is soon too busy dodging for breath; Sera drops his arm with one hand and pulls him close with the other, trying to headbutt him.
(Somewhere inside, she is stunned at herself; but apparently everyone has their breaking point.)
She misses, and he manages to pull away from her grip; but she chases, lunging at him in pure primal hatred, screaming at the top of her lungs. Her attempts are not beautiful punches like Ms. Mayberry’s heroic haymaker, but charging jabs that are half hook and half uppercut and all untrained. Her lack of skill is telling; even down an arm and running backwards away from her, Valentino dodges damn near all of them, because she’s just so fucking bad at fighting. The wound in her side doesn't help; the rage is keeping it at bay for now, the pain of her wound no longer stops her from moving at all, but it is still a physical impediment to movement, slowing her down even when her head is too full of rancor to feel the hurt...
But Valentino, good as he is, does not dodge them all.
She manages to land one big punch, just one… but it is a direct hit to his left eye, and the orb crumples into blind squelch at the impact of her right knuckles.
He screams as the blow knocks him down, still fleeing her, his remaining hands and feet scrabbling and crawling backwards on the floor. He’s heading straight for where Vox and Mayberry are still fighting, which by this point has circled the room and ended up back at where Sera once knelt, near Travis’ corpse, and her eyes catch the glint of her spear, laying forgotten on the ground.
Vox and Mayberry, mid-fight, pause as Valentino screams and is crawling towards them; Vox in particular, whose face quickly goes from shocked to serious. Seeing his lover hurt, Vox finishes his fight with Mayberry, a thing he could have done from the very start; he dashes past all her defenses and lands a single blow, sinking his knife up to the hilt in Ms. Mayberry's guts. He'd been toying with her, and now, playtime is over.
The sight redoubles Sera's fury as Mayberry's aura flickers, fading, and she screams more wordless things as Vox turns to kill the woman hurting his lover. Valentino takes the opportunity to get close to Vox, and Sera, in her unthinking anger, decides that a life for a life is fair; she dives for her fallen spear, grabs it, and immediately hurls it, deadly point forward, straight at Valentino.
(All that baseball practice finally came in handy, some still-rational part of her mind idly thinks. She’d always liked the game- and been a fairly good pitcher, back in her youth.)
What happens next surprises her.
Valentino, still rising, is caught and vulnerable; he cannot dodge out of the way in time.
But he is close enough to grab Vox.
He tugs his boyfriend down with his arms, into the path of the spear. It thunks with deadly finality in Vox's chest, who stares at Valentino with an expression that is... hurt, and not because of the wounds of his boy.
(Even under her fury at him, for killing Mayberry, for all he has done... some part of Sera aches for him still, in that moment.)
As Sera stares in surprise, there is another gunshot, and suddenly she cannot stand at all. She falls to her knees, looking down, at the hole in her stomach where blood is now spilling from a bullet wound.
It doesn't hurt, and somehow, that is much more terrifying than the pain in her side ever was.
(Perhaps the body sees no need to waste resources telling the mind that it is dying, when the wound is fatal.)
“What a fucking shitshow,” Valentino mutters as he tosses his lover's corpse off of himself and walks over to Sera, smoking gun still in one of his remaining arms. Vox's TV face shows only unmoving static now. “Velvette's gonna be such a bitch about all this... we'll need a replacement for Vox... and I won't get to fuck you. Shame.”
He sighs while reloading his gun, as Sera kneels before him, staring at the wound that will kill her. She's... lost, she's lost, all the light inside her could not make her strong enough, and this is going to be a tragedy after all...
“Still,” he says with a smile, “at least we'll have some benefit. Call ourselves Monster Hunters, heh.”
He is raising the gun, saying more things, but Sera ignores his snarling, because her mind has fixated on her last thought.
The light inside her.
She still has that light, mostly; she hasn't burned through most of it, not with her physical stunts. It's still there, in her skin, trying to heal her- and it probably could, but it can't do it fast enough before Valentino puts a bullet in her head.
But... she can still feel a bit of Mayberry's fury, fading fast. Valentino is still alive... her light, for all its deceit, can both heal and harm...
Maybe she should just...
Let it out.
It'll kill her to do it, of course; she needs the energy to heal from her wounds, and it is not as if there is another Seraph in Hell who can pour light back into her veins to save her...
But even ignoring the fact that she can't heal in time before Valentino kills her anyway... there's also the simple fact that this isn't so bad.
Dying to save a kind Sinner? Dying to slay a tyrant Overlord? Dying for Hell, which she has hurt so very much?
That's a good death. That is a death far better than she deserves.
(That is the kind of thing worth dying for. )
It will be her last act of repentance, for all the things she's done.
And so, with that thought, praying to whatever was or was not, Sera looked up at Valentino, opened up all of her many eyes, and offered up her last apology.
(And all of Hell saw it.)
*************
The stupid nicknames, to Charlie and Emily's mutual frustration, had been exactly what the meeting needed.
With the ice broken and everyone having a good laugh at their expense, things began to progress much more smoothly. The angels in the room- save the one dressed all in white, who insisted that he was only present as an observer- were more at ease, as were the demons, and they were able to discuss various plans and ideas.
“So Alan and Leo did manage to crack one of her journals,” Emily says to Charlie. “Apparently, Sinners aren't limited to Pride! Not by Hell, anyway. It's some working of the Elders. They're supposed to go to whatever Ring represents their Sin!”
“...That'd help considerably with the overpopulation crisis!” Charlie admits. “At least part of what's wrong with the Pride Ring is that we simply have too many people and not enough space. But if you can fix it...”
“We can get to work freeing them immediately!” Emily cheers happily. “It's a series of seals, one for each Ring. We think we can break them, one at a time!”
“Yes!” Charlie cheers.
“We'd need to clear it with the other Sins first,” Asmodeus hastens to point out, getting ahead of the duo before they, in turn, get ahead of themselves. “And get each Ring ready for what I can only assume will be a massive influx of immigrants. If we do it without planning, it'll be worse than just letting the system stay in place.”
“Aww,” Emily and Charlie sigh at once, Angel Dust and St. Peter both snickering in amusement and mouthing “Blue Charlie” and “Red Emily” to each other silently.
“But, that doesn't mean we do nothing,” Asmodeus finishes, brightening both their moods. “We do this right, instead. I've run Lust for a long time; I get how government works. Really, it's all just balancing competing desires, nothing more. And that's what gives me an idea.”
“An idea?” Lucifer asks.
“Yes,” Asmodeus says. “Selling the immigrants as a good thing will require us to show our people that they can do something they can't, or we'll just breed resentment. We need to show that it's not just the Sinners taking advantage of opened real estate, but something both sides can benefit from, that both can desire. And while Lust isn't ready for such a huge undertaking, I think I can lay the groundwork for it. See, Lust has a few areas of really high winds- we've got some pretty significant canyon and mountain areas around the Ring- and several times my people have come to me suggesting wind farms in those areas, or mining them out for more raw materials. It's too dangerous to do those things for my succubi, though; Hellborn in those areas that get hurt just die. But Sinners won't...”
“So they can become miners and power generators for the rest of Lust, and also they have areas to settle in that no one else can use!” Emily and Charlie both announce, before looking at each other.
“Okay, that's getting weird,” Charlie says.
“It is!” Emily giggles. “Very rude of you to invite me down here and mimic me.”
“Mimic you?!? You're mimicking me!” Charlie announces, and the two engage in a playful argument to the amusement of all present.
(Asmodeus, even as he grins indulgently at the two goofy young women, notices Lucifer seeming surprised at the ideas he's proposed and that both of the young ladies present immediately grasped onto; and he wonders if Lucifer suffers the same issue Bee does, that he was a better rebel than a ruler ... and how Emily and Charlie, Princesses of Heaven and Hell, do not seem to share the same problem. The two worlds may well be in good hands, despite their youth...)
“Weird to think of a Sin having a positive side,” St. Peter opines as Emily and Charlie's energetic debate dies down. “But it makes sense, the way you've presented it, that Lust makes for good leadership. Who'd have thought?”
“Dante,” Cherri says. “His Lust is called the canto of queens, after all- though mostly because he stuck all the women there. Misogynistic prick.”
“Oh, for fuck's- not Dante,” Lucifer says, rolling his eyes.
“What's a Dante?” Sir Pentious asks.
“This human who wrote a book on Hell,” Lucifer responds. “And he knew nothing! He got everything wrong! I don't have three heads!”
“How the hell do you know Dante?” Angel asks his best friend.
“I told you I had a degree in classical literature! Got my bachelor's and everything!” Cherri protests.
“I thought you were joking!” Angel responds. “Shit, that's why you like Pentious, ain't it? He got that old-timey about him.”
“I say!” Sir Pentious says, which more or less proves Angel's point.
Cherri just laughs.
“Eh, a little,” she says, and leans back on her angel snake, who curls around her in the best hug.
“Wait, I've heard others mention him,” Emily says. “He wrote books on Heaven too, didn't he?”
“Yeah,” Charlie says. “I've heard of him.”
“I bet he got that wrong too!” Lucifer complains. “The bottom of Hell isn't cold, for one thing!”
“That's Sloth, right?” St. Peter asks. “I looked at an old map we had in the archives of Hell, but we didn't have the best info... I'm afraid our former leadership preferred not to look at Hell.”
“Out of sight, out of mind,” Emily says with a sigh. “Another mistake on our part.”
“You're fixing it now, though,” Charlie says to her, and Emily rewards her with a smile.
“Sloth's the bottom Ring, yes,” Lucifer says to St. Peter's question. “It's not the bottom of Hell, but it's the last Ring. And Charlie's right, the bottom of Hell isn't a frozen lake.”
(His mind went to what was there- Eve, in her lonely cell, who had... changed, the last time he'd checked. Who had went through madness and come out again and back and out once more, endlessly. He still recalls the earliest days, when he and Lilith tried to break the door down, to retrieve their wife, the chains defeating them... they had been so young, to lose so much. Maybe that was where the depression had started to set in...)
“Then what's below Sloth?” St. Peter asks- but just as he does, the building shakes.
“What the- we don't have earthquakes in Hell,” Lucifer says as he flaps up off the unstable ground.
“Oh, for fuck's- I bet we're under attack,” Vaggie says, sighing as she gets up. “I'll go take care of it. Sorry for the interruption, folks.”
“Oh, they picked a poor time for it,” Asmodeus chuckles. “Do you need assistance?”
“Nah, keep talking, I got this,” Vaggie says. “The only Overlords with enough punch to make me need help are friendly.”
“You get attacked at the Hotel?” Emily asks, bewildered. “I mean, besides the last Extermination?”
“It's Hell!” Charlie says with a shrug. “Violence is kinda endemic here!”
But even as she says it, a cannibal comes running in, his face bright with shock.
“Princess!” he announces to Charlie. “There's- you need to come see this!”
“Who's attacking?” Vaggie asks him, all sergeant's roughness.
“No one!” the cannibal says. “It's holy light, like with Adam, but way bigger, and coming from the Vees' territory!”
“Angels are attacking again?!?” Charlie says.
“Not for long,” Lucifer says, eyes bursting into flame as he prepares to go defend his people.
“ Lute, ” Emily says in a low growl. “She's come here to rain death on your people again!”
“It's not her,” the angel all in white- whose name no one in the room had managed to catch, who had said nothing, who none of them thought was odd to be there for reasons none of them could articulate- says with authority.
(He should know; he had seen her just the day before, when she approached him and his fellow Horsemen, and was now recovering from her assumption of the mantle of War.)
“It's not coming from above, though!” the cannibal says.
“What?” Lucifer asks.
“The holy light!” the cannibal explains. “It's coming from below! It's rising up from Hell! ”
*************
There is darkness, for a time.
It's quite nice, actually. Sera is a child of Heaven, the land of law and light, and so she holds little truck with darkness; but she is finding it nice, now. Soothing. A cold rag pressed to a child's fevered forehead, a cool drink on a hot summer's day, a shield against glaring sun. Quiet and... nice.
Just another thing she's learned here in Hell.
Hell's been kind to me... far kinder than I have been to it.
She doesn't know why she's here. She... was dying, she thinks?
Is this death?
This isn't so bad. This is nothing to be scared of. Like a long nap. Rest.
She's been tired for a long time. Even the full night of sleep she got due to Carmilla's kindness wasn't enough, not for exhaustion as deep as her own.
This is peaceful.
But just as she wants to snuggle in, there is... red. Red, in the black; red, like the Ring of Pride, red, like the Sinners she has hurt, and now tries to help. Red, red, red.
To either side of her, there is blackness, the peaceful sleep of death.
Before her is a red road, red as Hell, and it will be hard to walk it. Narrow is the way, and whatever ending it has, she cannot see it from here; there is, perhaps, no ending. It may go on forever.
...It would be easy, to go into the dark.
She would love to stop.
...But...
The work awaits.
She has hurt Hell so badly.
And she is so tired of tragedies.
If she were to quit now... that would be acceptable, she supposes...
But it's a happier ending if she stays. If she helps.
And so, in that place which is not a place, she turns not to the left, nor the right, but puts her foot on the middle, onto the red path.
And she has the oddest sensation of... approval ... and knows not where it comes from, or from whom, knows only that she has it for making this choice, for choosing the hard path of life over the easy road of death.
And before she can do more than wonder, she hears, distantly, the sound of angel's wings, and a voice as big as the sea and quiet as a whisper, saying something she does not quite hear.
*************
Let There Be Light
*************
She is returned to a body that is not broken, but merely beaten. She is hurt- almost impossibly so, the pain is overwhelming- but she is not dead, and she is healing, the gunshot wound in her gut and the knife wound in her side are being repaired.
(And for just a moment, she remembers... red, black, approval... but no, it slips away, too big to be grasped even by a Seraphim's soul. All she can remember is a sensation of being... reborn?...)
Someone is pouring light into her veins.
Two someones, in fact, as she draws a breath. One is blue, blue skies, blue skies and freedom and a happy heart; one is red, the deep red of Hell, the red of light repaired, for this light had died and was reborn from its own ashes, sparkling like a phoenix in the night.
Her body greedily drinks up the light like a suckling babe, filling reservoirs and remaking her flesh. Heavenly steel can kill an angel but Seraphim are strong even by angelic standards; as Adam was strong enough to take a beating, Sera is even more so, and she is being reknit.
She blinks open all her eyes, sees her saviors. One she barely recognizes, after so long; Lucifer, who did not look like this before he left, who does not look as bad now as he had when she last checked up on him a millennia ago, who has changed more in the last few months than he has in centuries. His light is tinged with the chaos of life and rebirth, a light that is old and new all at once, resurrected as it was from his depression and his suffering.
But the other...
The other is one she is very familiar with.
Emily, who is crying from all her eyes, whose big central eye is weeping massive tears of salt as she tries, desperately, to save Sera's life. Emily, who is here, in Hell, for some reason...
...But it doesn't matter why she's here.
She is hurting, has not noticed Sera's return yet... and Sera came to Hell to help heal hurts.
So she does her work.
She takes one weak arm, and puts a hand to Emily's face, to tell her she's alive, that it's working, that it'll be alright.
And she is rewarded with Emily's gasp of wonder, with Lucifer's shout of triumph, with Princess Charlie's sigh of relief- she hadn't even seen her back there, the Princess apparently watching nervously from behind the other two. Sera's clearing vision reveals her to be laying down in the middle of a hole, the Vees' entire tower obliterated above her, and onlookers and gawkers all around.
(Including Ms. Mayberry, who is alive and well... talking with Princess Charlie's fiance Vaggie, along with some other demons... and is that Asmodeus? What's he doing here? Sera has a lot of unimportant questions right now.)
Her body continues to heal, Emily and Lucifer not stopping despite her awakening, and the second she has the strength to do it, she throws her arms around Emily and hugs her.
“You saved me,” she whispers to her.
“Y-y-you're aaaaaliiiiive, ” Emily manages to stutter out before she breaks down bawling.
She... she looks goofy, crying like that.
And maybe it's just because of the high of survival, of adrenaline, of I am still alive .
But whatever the reason, Sera can't help what she does next.
She takes one look at Emily's big, watery eyes, her inelegant blubbering, and just how pitifully hliarious she looks, and she almost breaks down laughing.
But then she sees Princess Charlie doing the same thing, because Emily's crying has set off Charlie's crying, the two so similar, and two faces doing the same thing is too much, that's it.
For the first time since Sir Pentious' redemption, Sera laughs, laughs, laughs.
(And she thinks it's gonna be alright.)
*************
A lot happens, very fast.
She and all of the other victims of the now-dead Vees are teleported away to the Hotel that day by Asmodeus, Sin of Lust, whom Sera remembers as a fairly minor angel of music. He's... very different these days, a much bigger deal, and she wonders how the other rebels have changed; she's heard a little of them in her time in Hell, but hasn't met any until now.
Sera doesn't actually remember most of the first three days afterwards. She recalls people standing over her; she recalls a lot of pain, because even with Sera and Lucifer healing her, she had been damn near dry on light, and even with all her body greedily drank from their hands, she needs time to repair herself.
She vividly recalls being given a dose of Hell's painkillers, straight from Belphegor's personal stash, brought by another Sin, Bee, who... really doesn't look a damn thing like she used to. She had a fly thing before. Now she's a bee wolf? If Sera hadn't been busy hurting, she'd have had more questions...
But then they'd given her the painkillers, and Sera had forgotten all that. She's never been on anesthetic before; Heaven has no equivalent medicine, has never needed to invent that kind of thing. Medically speaking, Heaven just used holy light for the rare situations where someone got hurt, it worked on everything.
But Sera, dosed up to the gills on the literal whatever-the-Hell they gave her, finds herself becoming very fond of painkillers. Pain hurt, which feels like a very stupid revelation to have even as high as she is; but she'd never realized how badly you could be hurt. How much it could overwhelm even the strongest mind, at least temporarily...
But these drugs, they're great.
(She thinks she tells someone as much, and vaguely recalls amused laughter- maybe Vaggie? She's not sure. These are some good drugs.)
After that, she is mostly healed, though bed rest is advised. Her long-term neglect of even her most basic needs has Emily fussing over her like a mother hen; angelic bodies don't really work like mortal ones, but they do reflect their natures, and Sera has lost considerable weight- not from not eating, but from actively denying herself food.
So Emily feeds her, bringing food straight from Heaven's kitchens; the cuisine of the spheres is joined by Hellish additions, because Mayberry hasn't abandoned her either. She brings her own baked goods to join what Emily's chefs can prepare, and the southern schoolteacher acquits herself well in the face of professionals, at least in Sera's eyes.
Emily refuses to talk of important matters, merely fusses over her, and says they will wait until later, when she is healthier, to discuss... matters of import.
(Sera dreads that conversation, even as she is glad she is alive to have it; and she fears that Emily... may be hiding her feelings, the way Sera once did. That Emily hates her now, that she will never see her as anything but the Monster... and while she will deserve that, too, it will be a dagger in her heart deeper than any other, to have Emily's hatred.)
Sera also has a surprise gift at one point- a fruit basket. Alastor's doing; the shadowy Overlord, whom she never sees in person, leaves it for her at one point, with a note that says Thank you for killing Vox!
(Given how the TV Overlord had actually died- betrayed by the man he'd loved- Sera cannot quite bring herself to eat the fruit, even before one considered Alastor's... dietary indulgences. She sends the hopefully-actually-fruit to be given to anyone Charlie deems will like it, like the other guests here- many of whom she sent here herself.)
Sera spends the time either sleeping- which is free of nightmares, thankfully- or watching TV, for her makeshift hospital room, converted from a hotel room of the Hazbin Hotel, has a television. Unlike Heaven's single broadcasting network, with its seven hundred plus channels, Hell has a multitude of competing stations, with the chaos increasing with Vox's death. Hell's airwaves are as up for grabs as the land is, now; while Alastor maintains his radio dominance, television is anybody's game. Numerous smaller demons have opened a variety of competing networks; of them, Katie Killjoy has emerged as the biggest, almost an Overlord herself in media influence, establishing her news network as the central figure.
Sera mostly watches her news, or when she wants something lighter, stolen broadcasts from Earth- mostly nature documentaries. She wasn't one of the angels who'd built nature, but she always marveled at the things they'd made.
(This was how she discovered, to her delight, that the platypus- an animal specifically banned for being too weird, made as a practical joke by some mischievous angel- had somehow made it past editing and been established on Earth. She'd laughed herself almost sick watching the bizarre creature in some land called Australia... which Sera distinctly remembered as a dumping ground for odd projects. No wonder nobody had noticed the damn platypii.)
Of the Hell broadcasts, she picks up some interesting news. Almost all of it is about her; Velvette had spread the photo Vox took far and wide on social media, and even four days later, it is a fire that won't go out. Katie has a special segment on it every night, called A Monster and a Saint ; has a nice ring to it, Sera supposes.
Every night, she sees Katie, or one of her reporters, interviewing demons, talking about her, or sitting with an editorial panel.
Opinions are... surprisingly split. She'd assumed all Hell would rise to take her head... but her work as the Saint has confused the issue.
Not that calls for her head are in short supply. Many want her dead. Older demons, who have lost more in her predations, who bear the trauma of her deeds, are particularly vociferous; they want Sera's head on a stick, and Sera sees a number of them even attack the Hotel, a thing she didn't know until she saw it on television. She's apparently in a rather secure place in the Hotel; she can't hear the fighting outside at all.
(The attacks fail immediately, because Alastor is here... as is Lucifer. Watching the two squabble while beating the shit out of a small army is... something. Katie even starts a whole new segment for a time during these assaults, making a scoreboard keeping track of how many demons each of them individually defeats- which, at least according to Emily when asked about it, became the one thing they agreed upon, both seeing it as being rather tacky.)
Others, though... they ask for leniency, for mercy in Hell.
Some are those she's helped. Rough gangsters she has lent a comforting shoulder to cry on, miserable souls whom she has lent an attentive ear; hurt individuals she has healed, lost souls she has guided. Others are those who care for those she has assisted, and who repay her kindness to their loved ones.
And some surprising others are ones she's never met at all, but who owe her much.
She killed Valentino, says a cat demoness, holding hands with another demon, who looks to be a Hellborn succubus; the two are identified as Dia and Summer by the byline at the bottom. Shiny wedding rings on their hands catch the light of the club signs they're standing in front of- this is somewhere in Zeezi's territory, Sera thinks. Now I'm free to marry my beloved... and we can fuck without the creep watching. Saint's alright in our books.
Eh, she's probably just a scapegoat, says one dark-furred spider sinner, an Arackniss by the line at the bottom, and he shrugs with his many arms. One woman running the whole Exterminations? You did see the number of angels they had? Something was wrong up top to let the Exterminations happen, and pinning the whole thing on her's just Heaven trying to get away with it. I don't trust it. I do trust that she's been helping, though, heard too many stories to say otherwise. So I'll go with what I know, not what I've been told.
I mean, let's be practical here! one apparently rather philosophical sinner says, an oddly poodle-like sinner who seems all bright and peppy- Villa by name, apparently. Her cheerful personality was offset by a large splash of blood on her face, which she seemed in no hurry to wipe off. Sure, she killed a whole shitload of us over the years- or at least, ordered it done. But so what? Monster of Heaven? Pssshh. We got plenty of Monsters here. But we only got the one Saint! Leave her be, she's helping!
Opinions in Hell are as varied as the Sinners inside it; Sera accepts them all, the good and the bad.
For Katie was wise in naming the segment as she did. Sera is both things. She is not the Monster anymore, but she was ; Carmilla told the truth of it, she will carry that for all the rest of her days.
But she is also the Saint.
A Monster and a Saint.
It brings a kind of peace, accepting that.
(The work will go on forever... but that's not so bad, is it? What else was she going to do with forever? She might as well help.)
While Sera dominates the news, t here is other news, related not to her, but to her actions. The deaths of the Vees- Velvette was still at large, apparently, but hadn't been seen- and destruction of their tower in one act was news in and of itself; the whole thing even had a name, the Miracle of Hell.
(Sera is not surprised by this point; her life accumulates titles like other people collect stamps, apparently.)
Beyond the simple drama of such prominent Overlords and their headquarters being vaporized in a moment, their deaths also meant a vast new area in Hell had opened up as free real estate- and as was tradition, war had broken out almost immediately. Multiple forces were fighting over the territory, all seeking to expand their land; Zeezi in particular is trying to take the area, bolstered by her being a terrifying combatant all by herself and hampered by her own terrible logistics. She's trying to make up for it by throwing literally everything she had at the area, though, a wave of primal carnage unleashed against all comers, and drugging her minions up on some experimental serum to make them more savage.
Sera would wonder how Mayberry is doing against the onslaught, since her territory is directly between Zeezi and what she wants... but she doesn't need to, she can see it on the nightly news. Mayberry is one of the would-be Overlords, and she's brought the biggest ally to the fray imaginable. Princess Charlie herself, alongside her fiance, have pitched in at her side; there is a particularly amazing picture, apparently taken by Tom Trench himself, of Princess Charlie uppercutting Overlord Zeezi in the chin, with the rather amazing caption of “devil's daughter decks dinosaur.”
(The funniest part of the picture is Vaggie, who is looking at Charlie with an almost literal star in her eye- an image that makes Sera laugh, and it is so good to laugh again, to be that smallest of all wonders, happy. )
Katie Killjoy spends a good minute laughing about the picture, two minutes praising Charlie for knocking some of Zeezi's teeth out, five minutes critiquing Charlie's poor form and offering tips, and another ten minutes reminiscing on her own brawl with the Princess, pointing out that she felt less bad about losing the fight after seeing Charlie punch out a Tyrannosaurus Rex.
Sera gets to ask Mayberry about it, the next time she sees her, which is a few days later; Mayberry's rather proud of her work, and glad to have the Princess' support. She's been getting a lot of people coming to her for help after that, especially former Vee contracts... who bring a rather interesting story with them.
Those who had contracts with Vox and Valentino were set free when Sera killed them... but those who had deals with Velvette, who as far as Sera knows she never killed, all broke the day after. There are none in Hell who owe any of the Vees their soul, now.
No one knows why. Current theories are that Velvette was killed in the chaos, or perhaps killed herself- no one's sure. She hasn't been on social media, and attempts to track her via her phone- which multiple people have attempted- have failed, though whether it's because Velvette was always better at that kind of thing or because her phone's destroyed is anyone's guess.
Sera also gets to find out what her light actually did. The blast melted the building, and healed all it touched, save Valentino, who was reduced to ash; the only thing left of him was from the waist down, since Sera's attack had been angled up.
(Angel Dust had apparently taken Vaggie's spear and skewered what was left of Valentino between the legs, his own petty vengeance on the most vengeful and petty of all men in Hell. Sera approves.)
Mayberry had been dying, but lives now, thanks to Sera's light; it had healed them, and destroyed the building, breaking their shackles and setting them free.
It had cratered the entire building, in point of fact. Sinners on the upper floors were not killed by her light, though quite a few had fallen many stories to the ground- but that's not fatal for Sinners, so they just smacked into the ground and started regenerating.
The sole exception are those in the vaults, which were more resilient... and treated Sera's light as a bomb blast going off. Sera had bombarded Hell with those vaults, sending the Vees' resources scatterered all over; the half-melted metal safes had been the subject of a great scrounging, with individuals from all over Hell participating in the scavenger hunt. Even the employees inside were valuable, for many had information that could be useful- and most were grateful enough to be removed from their metal shells that they had no problem signing up with their rescuers. Wasn't like they had jobs to go back to.
The others who were in that basement visit her on the sixth day. Hero, with Mayberry, who thanks her... and tells her not to worry about being the Monster, because Hero had been a monster of a lesser kind, and was working on herself, too.
The counselor next, who is happier, now, with Valentino dead and him freed; and he laughs when she points out that she is the Monster of Heaven, because it was not an angel that had hurt him. He's never even seen an Extermination; she owes him nothing in terms of dead friends and mental suffering.
But he owes her everything, for freeing him; and so he hugs her, and tells her he'll fight on her side if she needs it. He sees her as the Saint only, no Monster at all.
(She weeps. Just a little.)
Last is the little sheep girl, who is surprisingly practical about the whole thing.
It's like Alastor, she says with a shrug. Monster or not, you saved me... so thank you, Saint.
(Behold the girl with the strangest luck in all of Hell: twice now before a fate worse than death, and twice now saved by the heroic deeds of monsters.)
Mayberry, last of all, who invites her to come to her territory, when this is done; that she could use a Saint's help, that she believed Sera, down in that basement. That she had believed in her I'm sorry... and been rewarded for that faith.
( Whatever you've done, I'm glad you're the person you are now, she says. I'm proud to know the Saint. )
And on the seventh day, after she had rested, it was time to talk.
*************
“...I really don't want to talk to you,” Charlie admits, as if it is a great personal failing.
“...I can understand why,” Sera says to her.
They are alone, in her little hotel room. Sera is clothed in some of her old things, brought by Emily, but they feel odd, don't fit right; she wants her rags back, the strange thing she'd made to hide her skin. She is... not as bad as she was, she can look at her own skin and not hate herself, but it's... unfamiliar, now.
(She's still not sure how long she's been down here. She's surprisingly reticent to ask.)
“I'm... forgiveness is like my whole deal, and Emily loves you so much, but... you...” Charlie breathes out. Her suit, neatly tailored, has a new decoration on it; her tie is decorated with images of roses, red as blood, the thorns resembling teeth. A gift from that cannibal Overlord, Sera would bet. “What you've done...”
“...It is unforgivable,” Sera says.
It's easier, now. Accepting that she is both of the things she is... makes it easier.
(It still hurts; some part of her will, she thinks, always be full of knives, thinking on what she has done. Perhaps that is good; it will keep her from falling back on old patterns. A safeguard, to keep her on the narrow path.)
“Yeah,” Charlie breathes out, before rubbing her face. “Arghaghagh! Fuck! I feel so shitty just thinking that, but I can't... I did the math once, you know? It was after... I was sixty-six, I think? One of the first Exterminations where I went out to help people, right afterwards- wasn't brave enough to go out during one yet, that was in the future, but I was out there trying to help. I was moving rubble to free some trapped demons and... I started counting. We don't have the best records in Hell, but... I paid some people to count, and sure, probably can't trust their numbers, but... if they were even in the ballpark... that Extermination alone was so many... and there have been Exterminations for so long...”
She trails off... but there is no need to finish the sentence. The Exterminations are a yawning pit full of bodies, and it is all Sera's fault; so she simply nods her head. There are no words that can encompass the horror of Sera's actions.
“...But Vaggie asked me once about, like, Alastor,” Charlie says, raising her head up and looking Sera square in the eye. Her words fall out of her in a rush, stumbling over themselves as she tries to get them out. “He's a monster, by anyone's standards... but I hold out hope for him. Hope that being here can help him, make him better. And I'm... I'm learning that there's a lot of definitions of better, a lot of happy endings, more than I thought of... so even as much as I... hate you... and that is so weird to feel, I haven't hated anyone except Adam before... I'll work with you. To help my people.”
Sera doesn't know what to say, for a few minutes, as the Princess tries to catch her breath; apparently, admitting that she hated anyone was surprisingly difficult for her.
But, finally, she finds the words.
“Hell is in good hands, with you here,” she says, and bows her head to the Princess.
“And now you're nice! Ugh!” Charlie exclaims. “Why couldn't you go back to being that condescending bitch you were when we first met?!? That was way easier to hate!”
“...If it is any consolation,” Sera says, “I hated you fiercely too. I blamed you for Emily hating me.”
...Sera hadn't meant to say that part out loud, that hidden fear in her heart, and goes quiet immediately after.
“Hatred being mutual doesn't make me feel better at all!” Charlie announces... before sighing, as she sees the look on Sera's face. “...Emily doesn't hate you, Sera. She never did. I don't think she can. She's mad at you, but she doesn't hate you the way I hate you. She loves you still.”
Sera is quiet for a long moment, absorbing this act of kindness from one who has openly admitted to hating her.
“I am not the only Saint in Hell,” she says, and offers another, deeper bow to Charlie. “Thank you, Saint Morningstar.”
“Just call me Charlie,” she says, before muttering, “Saint's better than Red Emily, anyway...”
*************
When Emily enters the room, her face somber, Sera knows that the talk she has been dreading is here.
“...Sir Pentious... didn't want to come,” she says, sighing. “He knows that it was his appearance that caused you to exile yourself from Heaven... he fears that his appearance might traumatize you.”
“I cannot claim I am looking forward to seeing him again,” Sera agrees somberly, “but I can handle it.”
“...Heaven's kicking you out,” Emily blurts out, tears in her eyes. “There was- we tried you in absentia. We had to, Lute's been running around trying to get supporters and it's all politics and we have to take a stand against the things you've done, and I know you deserve it, but I... I... ”
She is trying not to cry, and Sera's heart shatters, to see Emily weeping for her sake. She walks over to her, and holds her tight.
“Shhh, shhh,” she soothes, as Emily grabs her tight, folding her wings over Sera as Sera folds her own over Emily, a tight little cocoon of feathers. “It's alright. I was going to stay in Hell anyway.”
“I... I had to recuse myself,” Emily whispers, and long experience in Hell lets Sera know that this is a confession. “I'm... I'm sorry, I feel like I should have argued for you, defended you, but what you did was so wrong, and I wanted to show that I wasn't going to show favoritism, and it wasn't unanimous but... they said exile... ”
She breaks down, and Sera holds her, so she knows that she is loved, that she has space to weep.
Sera herself... is not as bothered by this as she perhaps should be. It feels more like a formality than a sentencing; she had already denied herself Heaven, so making it official doesn't really change much.
If anything, she's actually rather glad that was the judgment. If Heaven had let her back in, after everything, it would be a sign that the rot ran far deeper than just her and Adam.
But even if it wasn't unanimous, that the Council could choose to exile her, make the right choice, the just choice...
Well, maybe there is hope for Heaven yet.
(Maybe now, without Sera there to screw it up, it can finally become the place it has always pretended to be.)
“Are there any other terms?” Sera asks.
Emily shakes her head, while idly poking her hands around looking for a handkerchief, something to wipe her nose and eyes with. Sera grabs one from the box on the nearby nightstand and lets her clean herself up a bit.
“No, there's... it's exile from Heaven and Earth both,” Emily says. “They want you to continue your work as the Saint of Hell. To... make reparations.”
A judgment kind and wise in equal measure. Sera approves.
(And had they asked for execution, she would have submitted her neck to the axe; she does not approve of this decision only because it spares her life. Her death would be justice; her life is mercy. Both are virtues.)
“I'll come down here as often as I can,” Emily promises her. “I'll need your help, your advice, and there's so much secret shit you've done that I need to find out-”
Sera can't help the laugh that bursts out of her at hearing her precious Emily swear.
“What?” Emily says, offended.
“...You sound funny when you curse,” Sera teases, and Emily gives her an adorably frustrated look.
“Hey!” she says, puffed up. “I'm being serious!”
“Me too,” Sera says, smiling at her. “And of course I'll help you however I can.”
“Good,” Emily says, face deflating as she returns to her normal cheery nature. “ And... I know you can't come back home, but I'll bring you things! Help with the homesickness. Food, and maybe some books on languages? I know you've always liked those... hey, do you think I should bring Lucifer some stuff from Heaven? Do you think he misses it?”
Sera... had never considered, in all her years in charge of Heaven, what Lucifer might or might not miss from home. But Emily does, she thinks of how to help, and it is the first and only task a true angel should be concerned with.
Sera's opinion of Emily, growing in her heart in all her time in Hell, solidifies, and she gives voice to it.
“You are going to be the greatest leader Heaven has ever had,” she tells her. “It will be so much better with you in charge.”
“You really think so?” she asks.
“I know so,” Sera tells her.
They talk more, after that. Of all the things they'll need to do. Of secrets Sera has kept, of where to find the answers, of all the things Sera should have told her, years and years ago. Sera promises to teach Emily how to use all of her Seraphic powers, because she's sheltered her from that, too.
(Emily also mentions being annoyed at being called Blue Charlie, and Sera wonders what that's about, but there's too much to cover today.)
And as Emily leaves, Sera requests that she bring her more of her old clothes... and a pair of scissors.
*************
It doesn't take long, to make her new outfit.
She was able to keep a small number of her original rags, the cloth strips she'd found here in Hell or torn off of other clothes. Not many- most were ruined by her blood or too damaged by violence to keep- but she was able to keep some.
She asks the Hotel staff to clean them, and the one-eyed maid, Nifty, does so, insanely giggling the whole while- she returns them perfectly clean, free of the dust of Sera's travels and travails.
To them, she adds pieces of the clothes she wore as High Seraphim, cutting and cutting with her scissors, making long strips and cloth bandages out of them. She sews the Hellish rags to the Heavenly garment, using her grace to bind it all together with threads of gold.
And in time, she has her new outfit, one that hides her all over again. She can look at herself, now, but she'd rather not... and it feels... appropriate.
It was never about hiding her identity, after all... and her covered form is what Hell expects to see when they see the Saint. Let such concealing clothes be a sign of her penance, that the Monster is... contained, within the form of the Saint.
(She will always be both, but she can pick which one is stronger. She can act as the Saint, and never as the Monster, even if she will always be both.)
And with that done, thanking the Hotel staff for their charity, and promising to stay in touch, Sera descends back into Hell, to wander aimlessly, and let whatever was or was not guide her feet where she would be needed most.
She is not bothered as much as she thought she would be. There's a few random attacks, but angelic weaponry is far too expensive for most attackers; she lets them get their blows in, only stopping them if the violence spreads to other demons.
The one time someone does come at her with a knife, she defends herself, but as gently as she can, and she returns the weapon once the fight is over.
(She wants to live, now. Selfish... but maybe she has a right, not to defend the Monster she was, but the Saint she has become. Or she's just not willing to die to a knife in an alleyway. One of the two.)
Judgment comes by fiat, because Hell is not a democracy. Hell holds no trials, and she's no exception. Lucifer just says that he thinks Sera's redeemed herself- and in private, admitted he felt he had no room to blame her, as he'd failed Hell so profoundly and for so long- and put out word that he considered her a valuable ally, and not to mess with her.
Back in the day, Lucifer's announcements were meaningless, but these days, they carry weight.
To the King's announcement are added the words of Overlords, which Sinners are more used to listening to. Rosie says her cannibals will eat anyone who hurts her, a thing Timothy tells her with great excitement when he runs into her a day after her return to her work; Carmilla Carmine, too, has apparently stated on Katie's news show that she will offer a bounty up on anyone who tries to hurt the Saint of Hell, or so Sera has heard, she didn't see the announcement herself.
Finally, Zestial, of all people, announces that she is welcome in his house... and that seals the deal. Few are dumb enough to cross multiple Overlords... but Zestial is infamous for his cruelty with those who cross him, and no one wants to risk it. Zestial did not survive to be the oldest Overlord because he was a particularly forgiving sort, though his people take an oddly cheerful view of such proclamations, and apparently watching his rather public displays of torture has the air of a picnic to the people of his land.
(His people know, after all, that it is not directed at them; Zestial is a grand and genuine sadist, but he is no monster without boundaries. He is a man, with rules, and those who obeyed them were in no danger from their Overlord.)
It is a kindness, to extend such a shield; and so Sera thinks up a suitable reward for Carmilla and Zestial. She sends them both letters, detailing that the other is in love with them, and encouraging them to come together; each send letters of their own back, confessing their fears and worries. Zestial fears that Carmilla is deceiving him for the power she will gain, Carmilla fears that she sees something in Zestial that isn't there; in sum, both fear betrayal and treachery, which is not an unwise thing to fear in Hell between Overlords.
Sera soothes all worries in her responses. There is something good in Zestial, she has seen it in his land, in the way his people do not just fear him, but respect him; brutal as he may be, it keeps his land safe, and he inflicts it only after fair warning. Otherwise, he does not torment his people. His decency is genuine.
Likewise, Carmilla is many things, but she is not heartless; she is driven by love, as anyone who sees her with her daughters, or observes the care written into every inch of her land, knows well. While only a fool would discount the potential strength in such a marriage of Overlords- and of all the many things Carmilla is, fool is not on that list- it is not the main driver of all Carmilla's actions. Her care is genuine.
She hears, later, on the news, that the two are getting married, and she is invited to preside over the wedding, in a letter that shocks her into a disbelieving laugh.
(The letter is from Clara, who also points out to her that she screwed up her and Odette's bet; Zestial had confessed first and within five years, something neither sister had bet on, and so they'd had to call it off. The letter is full of gentle ribbing over this- and genuine thanks for making her mother and soon-to-be-father so happy.)
She counsels as she walks, helping where she can... and her feet, inexorably, draw her to the crater where the Vees once were.
She is not surprised by this. It feels... right.
She is also not surprised when she finds Velvette staring down into the pit, one dark and quiet night. She sits on a piece of wreckage thrown from her tower, and it is stark symbolism, to see a Queen enthroned on the ruins of her kingdom. Even the former Overlord's outfit is ragged; she is currently flicking a busted lighter and trying to light a cigarette, failing miserably each time.
When Sera reaches her, she acknowledges her with not a gasp, but a grunt.
“Yo,” she says.
Velvette flicks a lighter once, twice, three times, getting nothing.
She looks up at Sera with tired eyes
“'Wuz hoping ye'd let me have a last hit of baccy, Saint,” she admits quietly. “Shame the lighter's shite.”
She sounds different than Sera's ever heard her on television... but the look on her face is a familiar one. It is the look of the doomed.
(Sera knows it well; she wore it for a long time, after Sir Pentious' ascension.)
Sera lifts a hand, and Velvette flinches back as flame bursts from one fingertip; but it's a small fire.
“For your cigarette,” Sera says gently.
Velvette looks at her like it's a trick, for a moment, before shrugging and leaning forward, lighting her cigarette from holy flame. She gives it a long draw, and lets out the strangely multicolored smoke, whites and blacks dancing with red specks between them.
“...Gives it a kinda weird taste,” she says. “Not bad tho.”
They are quiet, but it is anticipatory quiet as Velvette draws a long, shuddering pull of smoke into her lungs; Sera thinks the next move is hers, so she speaks.
“You... sound different,” she says. “Why?”
“It's what I'm supposed ta sound like,” Velvette sighs out, the smoke flowing; Sera thinks she catches the vague shape of a flag, in the smoke, blue with a white X, there and gone again. “I'm a Weegie, ya see.”
Weegie...? Wait, Sera knows this language.
“Glasgow?” she says, and Sera nods.
“Aye, I'm fae Glasgow... nae English at all, the fucking bawbags,” the Overlord says, taking another hit. “But everyone thinks you're an eejit if'n you talk like where you fae. So I been going gallus all around, wearing a fake voice, fake braw, fake... everything. Fake as fake is. Because I'm a fucking coward. Did it all so I could survive another bloody day. And it's...”
She waves a hand at the crater before her.
“It's all fucking hee-haw, weren't no point to it,” Velvette admits. “Pure pish. Everything I've done... it was all awful... and now, I'm gonna die here anyhow. Didn't work, didn't keep me alive, and didnae... didnae make me happy. It's all fucking pish.”
She sighs, lets the smoke float up. They are both quiet a while, and Sera searches for words to say, remembering a detail shared with her back at the Hotel.
“Why did your contracts break?” she asks. “You're not dead... so why did they break?”
Velvette doesn't respond for a moment, just takes another hit.
“Because... what was the point?” she asks. “Wasn't no point in acting all fucking braw when I was so weak. I'd lost Vox and Valentino's support both and I'm no fighter, never was, too much a coward to risk it. An'... all I'd done... was just plain evil, so... it felt good to be good, ye ken?”
“Of anyone in Hell,” Sera answers, “I know that best.”
“Aye, thought ya might,” Velvette says. “'S why you help, innit? Freeing them, felt... right. First decent thing my shite self has done since I got down here. Fuck.”
She shakes her head.
“They're still gonna kill me, a'course... an' I deserve it, what's worse,” she says. “I... I deserve it. I saw what that boggin' shite Val was doing, every time he lost the rag with Vox he'd hurt him, that's pure abuse, but me sitting there smiling acting like it was all fine because it kept me alive. I'm... I'm... I'm sorry, Vox, I wish I'd...”
She stops, and draws one last hit from the cigarette before flicking the butt away.
“I buried him,” she admits. “Got his body out and buried it somewhere no one will ever find it. I'm fucking bampot, it doesn't matter, he's not there no more, but... I... I shoulda done better by him, and I didnae.”
She sighs one last time, and a few tears fall from her eyes as she stands up, straight as a Queen, and looks Sera in the eyes, an act of bravery from a self-admitted coward.
(Sera's heart aches; she is a coward, too.)
“...Thanks for listening to my greetin,” Velvette says, and stands ready before Sera. “And... thank you for killing Valentino, the way I shoulda done when I first met him. But that's all that, and so I'll shut my geggy. Now gaun yerself, get to killing me. Ye've plenty of right to it.”
And Sera does, as many do... but...
Those words.
I'm sorry.
It is not as simple as that.
But it does start there. It always starts there.
Without repenting, one could not change, could not be forgiven... redeemed...
And nothing Velvette has done is as bad as what Sera has done.
“Would you rather live?” she asks the once-Overlord, who cocks an eye at her.
“Ya dafty?” she asks in her new- well, old- voice.
“There's a Hotel...” Sera begins, and Velvette stares at her.
“They wouldnae take me in,” she says. “An' I wouldn't blame them.”
“They helped me,” Sera offers to her.
That gives Velvette pause.
“...I'm still... what I am,” Velvette says. “A coward. An abuser. An' that Angel Dust, he won't be too happy to see me.”
“I was the Monster of Heaven,” Sera says gently. “They still let me stay. It is not about what you are. It's about what you want to be.”
Velvette is quiet once again, for a long, long time.
“...I don't want to be this,” she says.
“Then walk with me,” Sera says, “and you'll change.”
And the Overlord set off, following the Saint, walking the narrow way.