Chapter Text
About a month ago, Hannah had finally said her first words. Not just ‘dada’, which she had been babbling for a bit longer than that, but an actual sentence. She’d been playing with her stuffed giraffe on bed and had dropped it. Instead of crying, as she often did, she pouted, pointed at it, and exclaimed, “Dada! Give me!”
However, her newfound chattiness seemed limited to when they were alone. He’d tried to show other people, but the closest he’d gotten was Hannah calling for him when he’d left her with Abby for five minutes to go to the bathroom.
Oh, well, she’d come of her shell eventually. Silent or not, everyone adored her. It came to the point that someone in the staff had started getting her baby food without even asking Mike. He didn’t know who it was, but every time he came down the kitchen, there it was, in the same fridge shelf as always.
The problem was getting Hannah to eat the food without spewing it all around her in some odd deconstruction of abstract art.
At least Niffty didn’t hate her for making messes…
Either way, Mike had his routine, and tried to make sure that he was one of the few occupying the kitchen while Hannah ate. He didn’t want to be a bother. Thankfully, most people only hopped into the kitchen for quick snacks or meal times, unless they were Alastor. But Alastor never minded Hannah. He seemed to have a soft spot for her. Though, most people did.
Today, no Alastor was present in the kitchen. Only Abbigail, raiding the kitchen and ignoring the trays of breakfast available in the main table.
“Good morning.” Mike said. He held back a snicker when Abby jumped, almost hitting her head on one of the kitchen shelves. “Pass me the beast’s breakfast?”
“Morning. What flavour?” Abby asked.
Mike looked down at Hannah, who was staring at the pancakes with hungry eyes. He’d let her have some, but last time she’d almost choked on them in her rush to taste something sweeter than normal.
“The yellowy green one.” Mike said. “I don’t remember the name of these things, to be honest.”
Abbigail hummed and passed it along. As Mike took it and started setting down Hannah in her chair, she stayed put, still looking at the inside of the fridge.
“You’re going to let all the cold air out.” Mike pointed out. Abbigail only hummed again. “…is everything alright?”
“Huh?” Abby asked, closing the fridge. “Yeah, I’m– I’m fine, just. Tired. Bad night, you know?”
“Right.” Mike said. He fished for a spoon. “Is your exboyfriend bothering you again?”
Abbigail made a face. “No, no, I really am fine, I promise.” She insisted, even though her eye bags and nervous fidgeting said otherwise. “I just– I want to leave.”
Mike blinked. “Oh?”
“Yeah.” Abby shrugged. “I– I liked it here, don’t get me wrong, but, you know, I have a job now, and I’ve been saving up…”
“You could move in with me.” Mike suggested, before he could think it twice. Hannah used his distraction to her advantage and threw a fist of puree at the wall. “I mean, the construction work is ending in a week or so, if everything goes to plan, and I do have a guest room. And I could really use an extra pair of hands to deal with this demon until I can find a babysitter.”
“I– are you sure?” Abbigail asked.
“Yes, of course.” Mike said. “I won’t mind the company. As long as you don’t mind her waking up at night crying.”
Abbigail chuckled. “Then, yeah. Ok. I can move in.” She said, relaxing a bit. She looked around, as if to check for eavesdroppers. “It’s just– I don’t want to alarm you, but I overheard Angel and–”
There was a sudden crash from outside the kitchen that startled both of them into silence. Hannah kept finger painting with her food.
Mike made sure that Hannah wouldn’t be able to escape her chair before stepping out, following Abby to the lobby.
The only thing that kept him from cursing out loud was the many long months of taking care of Hannah.
At the end of the stairs, laying like a rag doll, was Alastor. There was blood slowly pooling under his head. Mike rushed to his side. Alastor groaned, slowly twisting to his side. Relief flooded Mike.
“Go get Erin.” He asked Abby, who had stood frozen. “Abby! Quickly now!”
Abbigail snapped out of it. “I– yeah.” She gulped, before stepping around them both and bolting up the stairs.
Mike took a deep breath and took stock of the situation. Alastor was bleeding, but it seemed to only be a head wound, and those bled a lot, even if they weren’t bad. So maybe that wasn’t as bad as it looked. None of his limbs seemed to be broken, and he was conscious enough to feel around for his glasses, which Mike spotted a few steps above them.
“Hey, man.” Mike said, feeling a bit foolish. “Let me– eh, let me help you up.”
Alastor offered no complaint as he wrapped an arm around his shoulders, trying to ignore the blood, and helped him sit up against a baluster. Then he reached over and grabbed the glasses for him.
Alastor accepted them with uncoordinated grace. “Oh dear.” He said, upon putting them on. He felt bellow his curls and grimaced at the amount of blood. “That’s no good omen.”
Mike chuckled. “You could say so.” What were the typical head trauma questions? God, he was not qualified for this. “You, eh, took a bit of a tumble. What happened?”
Alastor blinked slowly and squinted. “I believe someone might have pushed me.” He laughed, and then groaned at the sound.
Dear lord, who would even want to do that?
“Right.” Mike said. How long until Erin arrived? “Well, don’t worry, I sent Abby to get some help, and then we can warn your girlfriends–”
Alastor waved a hand dismissively. “No, no, don’t fret I’m fine– what girlfriends? Rosie’s– Rosie’s unavailable.” He giggled to himself. “I could call her with my blood.”
Alright. The man was a bit out of it.
“Charlie and Vaggie?” Mike tried, since he had no fucking idea of who Rosie was.
Alastor blinked. “Girlfriends. As in. Romantic partners?”
Mike nodded and, immediately, Alastor doubled over with laughter. He kept trying to speak, but all words were interrupted by him guffawing again.
It was honestly, the worst scene Erin could’ve arrived to. So of course that was when she came downstairs, in her pajamas and housecoat, first aid kit in her hand.
Mike left her to it and went back to the kitchen to clean up the blood he’d gotten in his arms on accident. Thank God he’d been wearing short sleeves.
In the kitchen, a very bored Hannah had thrown her baby food bowl down to the ground.
Mike sighed. He’d pull out another jar after he got the blood off of him.
Vaggie woke up earlier than Charlie, for once. Charlie roused at her usual hour, and found the other side of the bed empty. Instead, at the window seat, Vaggie sat staring out at the morning sky. She was beautiful, with her tousled hair and wrinkled pajamas. Her skin looked like it was glowing in the sunshine.
Charlie yawned, standing up after searching for her slippers. She walked up to her, wrapping her arms around her shoulders and resting her chin on her head.
“Morning, gorgeous.” She said, looking at the clouds in the sky.
Vaggie lied back against her arms. “Good morning.” She said, with the voice of someone who’s been awake for a while. “How did you sleep?”
“Wonderful.” Charlie said. “I had a wonderful woman beside me, after all.”
Vaggie laughed. “Oh, Charlie.” She muttered, turning to face her.
But underneath her radiant smile and adoring eyes, there was a tiredness. One Charlie had seen before.
“What’s wrong?” She asked.
Vaggie sighed. “I… I need to tell you something.” She said, slowly. “It’s about Adam.”
“Oh, God, has another guest–?”
“No, no!” Vaggie was quick to reassure, grabbing Charlie’s hands. “Everyone is fine, no one’s died.”
A rush of hurried knocks came to their door, then. Without waiting for a reply, Husk opened the door, covering his eyes with one hand.
“Princess, we’ve got a bit of a situation.” He said.
Vaggie groaned. “What is it now? And you can look, we’re decent.”
Husk uncovered his eyes, and pointed behind him. “It’s Alastor.” He said, tired.
“What has he done now?” Charlie asked, fearing the worst. She was not equipped to deal with human law enforcement.
“Someone’s pushed him down the stairs.” Husk said, rather calm for the situation at hand. “Erin’s taking a look at him, now. Figured you’d want to know.”
Charlie wished she hadn’t woken up.
Angel was woken up by Abbigail, who seemed rather out of sorts. She’d knocked on his door, and, upon him answering, blurted out ‘your boyfriend fell down the stairs’ and rushed to Niffty’s door to wake her as well.
It took Angel a few minutes for his brain to catch up. It helped that, as he descended towards the kitchen, very obvious signs of a tumble down appeared. The carpet was crumpled up from one point onwards, and at the bottom of the stairs sat Alastor, next to Erin. And a small puddle of blood that Angel would have to clean up afterwards.
“What the fuck.” He said, as he came by to them.
Alastor was giggling under his breath. “Angel, my dear, guess what?”
“You tripped down the stairs like an idiot?” Angel guessed. He turned to Erin. “Is he concussed?”
Erin nodded, grimly. “Seems so. He’s not letting me touch him much, but it looks like the bleeding has stopped for now.”
Alastor pouted. It was the first time Angel didn’t see him smile. It looked eery. “I didn’t trip.” He spat out, like the thought disgusted him. “Someone pushed me.”
“Help me get him to the sofa.” Erin asked–though Angel took it as an order.
He grabbed one of Alastor’s arms and threw it over his shoulders. He yanked up so that Alastor was half standing half laying against Angel. He missed his extra arms.
Then Alastor tried taking a step on his own, and the nearby radios exploded for a second with static.
The three of them flinched. Alastor giggled again. The static subsided. Angel looked at Erin, praying she didn’t somehow connect the dots.
Faintly, from the kitchen, he could hear someone screaming an altered swear, and a baby start to cry.
“Right.” Angel said, awkwardly. “Are your legs ok?”
“Just peachy.” Alastor said, though he had raised one of them as to avoid resting it against the ground. “Say, you didn’t guess right, my dear fellow.”
“Let’s just hope it’s a strained ankle instead of broken bone.” Erin said, grabbing her emergency kit. “Are you sure you don’t want me to call an ambulance?”
Angel thought of the medicine bill and shuddered. “No, thank you. I’d rather drive the fucker myself if it gets bad.”
Erin shrugged. “Fair enough.” She conceded.
He dragged Alastor to one of the lobby couches and set him there. As he did so, Husk and Niffty arrived at the scene. Niffty took one look at the situation, saw Erin, nodded, and went off to grab a mop to swipe the blood off the floor.
Husk went directly to Angel’s side. They stood to the side as Erin took a look at Alastor’s foot.
“Abbigail woke you too?” Angel asked.
Husk hummed. “She was hysterical. Left her with Jeremy to calm down.” He said. He gestured with his head to Alastor, who was still a bit out of it, trying to make Erin laugh with the most horrible dad jokes ever conceived. “What happened to the Boss?”
“Said someone pushed him.” Angel said. “He’ll be fine, he’s a tough motherfucker.”
Husk sighed. “Of course he is.” He rubbed at his eyes, before turning. “I’m going to go warn the girls. Make sure he doesn’t die or something.”
“No promises.” Angel joked.
“Alright.” Erin piped up. She stood and walked up to Angel. “It’s not broken, but it’s definitely strained. No hunting trips for him for a week, and try to keep him off his feet. I can bring you a crutch from the hospital this afternoon, if you want.”
“That’d be great, thanks.” Angel said. “What should we do about his head?”
“There’s not much to do, other than monitor him.” Erin said. Under her breath, she muttered something about not finishing medical school. “And get him some pain killers. The bleeding seems to have stopped for now, so I’m going to wash up and change. Can you handle it?”
Angel nodded. “Yup. Thanks, toots.”
Erin took one last look at the both of them, and went back the now clean stairs. Niffty had even taken the carpet out to wash the blood off.
Angel turned to Alastor. He was holding a towel to his head, stopping the blood from staining the couch too much. He was frowning. It looked off putting.
“You’re being awfully rude.” He said, and at least he still had the same annoying tone as always. If he started slurring words, Angel would probably panic.
“Sorry, Smiles, I was busy making sure you weren’t dying.” Angel said, perching on the arm of the couch. “What was it that you wanted to say?”
“Some simpleton has gotten the idea in their head that I’m dating Charlie and Vaggie.” He said, and broke into giggles. “Both of them! At the same time!”
Angel had to admit that it was a hilarious thought. Then he remembered Abby’s earlier words. “Damn, well, you won’t believe this, but I think they might believe we’re dating too.”
Alastor made an expression of utter disgust, and then laughed some more. “Do they believe I’m some sort of promiscuous pro skirt–?”
“It could be worse.” Angel said, before Alastor went into a rant into how disgusting and perverted love and sex and affection were. “They could think you’re dating Niffty and Husk.”
Alastor went pale. “Never utter such a sentence ever again.” He waved a hand. “And get me some ice.”
“I could get you more than ice, if you wanted.” Angel suggested, leaning seductively to fuck with Alastor.
Alastor threw the bloody towel at him. Gross.
After checking up on Alastor down in the lobby, bringing him a cup of coffee and some breakfast and getting themselves some food as well, Charlie and Vaggie finally sat down at the kitchen table. Niffty was there as well, cleaning the baby food Hannah had spilled all over earlier.
“Right. So.” Vaggie said, after downing half of her coffee on one go. “We all heard the whole… radio outburst, right?”
“Yup!” Said Niffty. She stopped scrubbing furiously against the floor for one second. “I don’t think Boss realized he did that, though.”
“It was… concerning.” Charlie said. “We haven’t manifested any more traits, have we?” She was still a bit overly conscious of her eye colour, and had to make some lies on the spot when some of the clients had asked her about it. She didn’t think she could hide suddenly having hooves again. Especially because they didn’t make shoes for hooves on earth.
“Not that I’ve noticed.” Vaggie said. “Niffty?”
Niffty shook her head. “I’m the same as always.”
“Right.” Charlie said. She gave herself a moment to think, playing with her food, and then looked at Vaggie. “You wanted to talk about Adam?”
Vaggie grimaced. “Yes. It’s, eh, it might be better to do it somewhere more private.” She said, glancing at the doorway. “In our room?”
“I’m going to clean it.” Niffty piped up. “There’s too much dust in there, and the floors are full with grime because you girls never sweep em, so…”
Vaggie sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose.
“There’s a balcony in the library.” Charlie offered. “No one uses it.”
“Yeah, sure, that’ll do.” Vaggie said. She looked at the doorway again. “Maybe let’s get Alastor back into his room, so he doesn’t get any ideas of eavesdropping again.”
Charlie nodded. Alastor had been weird. She’d chalked it up to the confusion from the fall, mostly. He kept looking at them both and giggling to himself. She just hoped he wasn’t scheming anything odd again.
The blood was cleaned, the rug was put back in place, and Hannah had stopped crying. Husk’s ears still were ringing from the obnoxiously loud radio feedback, but no one else seemed to be having the same issues. He saw the girls drag Alastor back into his room, and settled by the bar.
And, like clockwork, Angel sauntered down to his preferred seat. “You will never guess what I’ve learnt today.”
“Kid, if it’s gossip about the clients, let me tell you–” Husk said, grabbing him a glass. “–I’ve probably heard of it already.” He filled the glass with whisky, a bit of ice and an umbrella, and passed it to Angel. “Here, on the house.”
“On the house?” Angel asked. He played with the umbrella. “Awfully nice of you.”
“After the morning we’ve both had, we deserve it.” Husk declared, before grabbing the whisky bottle and drinking straight from it.
“True…” Angel said. “Anyways, no, I doubt you know what I know.”
“Surprise me.” Husk said.
Angel snorted, before collecting himself. “Apparently, some of the guests were under the impression that Alastor was dating Charlie and Vaggie.” He said.
Husk stared at him. “Well that’s… Why?”
“Fuck if I know!” Angel said. “Honestly, it’s a good thing Alastor learnt of this while concussed, he’d murdered someone if he was in his right mind now.”
“Nah.” Husk said. “He’d probably throw a fit, though.”
“He’d totally kill some–” Angel started, but then there was a big thud coming from right outside. “What was that?”
“I’ll leave the dishes in the machine real quick, I’ll meet you at the library balcony.” Charlie had said.
And Vaggie, the ever loving fool, had agreed after a short kiss.
She leaned over the balcony, looking at the landscape. It was high enough to be above the tree tops, but not enough to make Vaggie afraid. Though, she’d never been particularly scared of heights. Came with the ability to fly, she supposed.
She could see the entrance porch, and their crappy truck and the few guest’s cars. Abby’s motorcycle was there, as well, so that meant she probably didn’t have work today. Vaggie hadn’t seen Abby in a while, it was a pity. She was one of Vaggie’s favourite guests.
Tapping her fingers on the rail, she tried to figure out how to explain things to Charlie. She had to, there was no other option.
Well. There was always another option. But it felt like treason. Even if she hadn’t been under Adam’s command for years, his mere presence made her skin shiver with the itch of falling in line. Of putting a mask on and ignoring the atrocities in favour of a fabricated greater good that never existed.
Vaggie let out a sigh. Charlie would understand. Charlie was good, and kind. Better than anything Vaggie ever deserved, even if she never realized it. She might be upset, at first, and Vaggie had to accept that. But, with time, things would go back to normal. Better than normal. No more secrets weighting Vaggie down and trying to drown her.
Yes, everything would be alright.
She barely processed the approaching footsteps, assuming them to be Charlie, until there were hands on her, pushing.
Vaggie acted on instinct. She grabbed her opponent’s arms to pull herself from falling off the balcony. Whoever it was hadn’t expected it, and they stumbled back in an effort not to fall as well. Both fell into the ground, and Vaggie barely had a second to recognize the attacker–a hotel guest, a new guy, what was his name?– before he was jumping at her.
She let out a yell before hands wrapped around her throat. She panicked for a second as the airflow was caught off, before punching at his eyes. The man cried out, grip loosening. Vaggie kneed him in the stomach before wrestling the hands off her.
Gasping for breath she crawled back. She needed her spear.
The man grabbed her leg, probably about to pull her back.
Only to be tackled aside by something red and furious.
He fell over the balcony, and landed with a thud. Crap.
“Oh my god.” Charlie said, completely frozen. Familiar horns were sprouting from her head. “I didn’t– I didn’t mean to–”
Vaggie tried to speak, only letting out a dry cough at first. Charlie seemed to snap out of it, though not fully, and go help her stand. She was crying now. The horns subsided, and she went back to how she usually looked.
“I didn’t mean to, I didn’t mean– he was hurting you!” She sobbed, grabbing onto Vaggie’s shoulders like a lifeline.
Vaggie shushed her, trying to clean her tears. “It’s alright. It’s fine.” She lied. “It was just an accident. I’m fine. It was not your fault.”
Charlie pulled her in for a tight hug, burying her head in her shoulder. Vaggie held her for a few seconds, before gently pulling away.
“We need to check on the body.” She said, as gently as she could. Charlie started shaking her head. “Charlie–Darling, please. I just need you to calm down. Five minutes, we deal with the body, then we can talk. Ok?”
Charlie sniffed, used her sleeves to clean her face, and nodded. “Alright.” She said, and though her voice sounded just as bad as Vaggie’s, it was good enough for now. “Let’s do this.”
“Do you think anyone else saw?” Angel asked, staring down at the guy.
Husk was looking up, trying to figure out where the fuck this guy had fallen from. There were hardly any open windows, had he fallen from the balcony? Yikes. That was far too high up to survive.
“I hope not.” He said. He rolled up his sleeves. “Let’s take him away from the main entrance.”
Angel frowned and pushed him away when he tried to lean down to grab at the guy’s twisted legs. “Hell no, buddy. You are not lifting shit with a stab wound still on your shoulder.”
“That’s almost healed already!” Husk complained.
Angel took off his jacket and threw it at him. “Exactly. Almost.” He grabbed the body by the arms and started dragging. “Don’t wanna reopen it now, Whiskers.”
Husk rolled his eyes. Pompous prick. He eyed the trail of blood. Yikes.
“I’m going to go fetch Niffty really quickly.” He said. “Don’t get caught.”
He left Angel Dust to it, and entered the hotel again. There was no one in the lobby–apart from a sleeping Alastor. Good. He made it to the kitchen, where she found Niffty, sat on a stool with a muffin and her phone and kicking her feet.
“Hey, eh, Niffs?” Husk said. “We have a situation in the front.”
“Charlie said I had to take a break.” Niffty said, with her mouth full. “I’m updating the hotel accounts and telling people Alastor won’t be broadcasting today cause he’s an idiot who didn’t watch his steps.”
“Right, yes. But, uh, the situation involves blood.” Husk said, getting Niffty’s full attention. “A lot of it. We can’t have the hotel guests noticing.”
“Two blood puddles to clean on the same day?” Niffty asked. “Damn, someone’s been busy!”
And she ran off, supplies in hand.
Husk followed behind. He left Angel’s jacket by Alastor, and then tracked the owner of said jacket. Angel had managed to drag the body around the corner, into the small little garden with flowers–not roses. He had grabbed a shovel and was uprooting the flowers. Were they marsh daisies? Husk needed to refresh his flower knowledge.
“Oh. Hey.” Angel said, slightly out of breath. “I figured we’d bury him here for now and lie about restarting the garden. I can move him to the woods once night falls.”
“Good plan.” Husk said, looking around for another shovel. There wasn’t, but there was a rake, which he could use to rip the flowers out.
He almost got to work, but then something moved out of the corner of his eye. The body. Was he–? Husk knelt to check the guy’s pulse, and the guest’s eyes struggled to open.
“Angel.” He called. “He’s still alive.”
“Shit.” Angel said.
They both stared at each other with no idea of what to do.
And then Charlie and Vaggie rushed into the scene.
“We didn’t do shit!” Angel rushed to say, as Husk stepped in front of the body to hide it.
“Did anyone see?” Vaggie asked. Her voice sounded rough. Now that Husk looked closely, her neck was starting to show some nasty bruises.
They both shook their heads. At this, Vaggie relaxed, and Charlie started crying.
“I did it, I killed him. God, I’m a horrible persoooon.” She said, looking very close to falling on her knees and wailing into the grass.
Vaggie rubbed her back. “He attacked me first, hon.” She said, though it seemed it was less directed towards Charlie and more towards Angel and Husk. “It was just an accident.”
“Right.” Husk said. “Another murder attempt?”
Vaggie nodded, Charlie just cried louder.
“Slight issue.” Angel said. “He’s, eh, still alive?” He kicked the body and the guy let out a groan. “Barely, but he’s still kicking. Metaphorically, those legs are definitively broken.”
Vaggie made a face. “Oh, I– where’s Alastor when you need him?”
“Concussed.” Husk said.
“Yeah, so, we’re not letting him live, right?” Angel said, grabbing the shovel and hoisting it on shoulder.
Charlie was crying too much to speak, but she made some noises they all interpreted as protest.
“Princess, he tried to kill you.” Husk said. “And I can bet he’s also the one who pushed Alastor down the stairs.”
“It’s a mercy, at this point.” Angel said, and he looked like he almost believed himself. “Just– look aside, Charlie.” He raised the shovel high.
Charlie closed her eyes. Husk looked away, though he noticed Vaggie staring as she held Charlie. The noise was wetter than Husk had expected. Vaggie didn’t even flinch.
“We’re gonna bury him here for now, if anyone asks we’re redoing the garden.” Angel said, as if he hadn’t just sabotaged any of his chances of ending in heaven.
“Right.” Vaggie said, blinking. “I– I’m going to–”
“We got it handled.” Husk said, softly. “You should probably take something for your…” he gestured to his own neck.
Vaggie nodded. “I’ll let Niffty know to come help you once she’s done cleaning up.”
She dragged her crying girlfriend away.
Husk fixed his sleeves again and picked up the rake. “You’re an idiot.” He told Angel.
“Excuse me?” Angel said, stopping his shoveling for a moment.
“I could’ve killed him for you.” Husk said. “No need for you to damn yourself.”
Angel snorted. “I was never meant for heaven.” He went back to shoveling. “Besides, you’re coming with me anyways. I don’t think it’s very heavenly to help bury a body.”
Husk hummed, and went back to ripping out the flower bushes. “At least we can keep each other company.”
“Yeah.” Angel agreed, sounding tired. “At least.”
They kept digging in silence.
Alastor woke to a headache. Right. Falling down the stairs. Very unpleasant experience, 2/10. Would not recommend, but it was still better than getting mauled by dogs.
He was laying down in the lobby. Someone had covered him with a blanket. Angel’s jacket was laying at his feet. His stomach ached with familiar hunger.
He sat, slowly, to avoid increasing his headache. It was better than before, just a low lull of pain that threatened to increase if anyone spoke at Alastor.
He thought about standing, but decided against it. His ankle would appreciate not being subjected to any more horrors, thank you.
Instead, he looked around. For entertainment, mostly. The lobby was completely empty. Odd. Last he’d checked, Husker had been at the bar, and Niffty and Angel had been coming and going.
He was about to stand up, injured ankle be damned, when the doors to the hotel opened. Erin entered, still in her hospital uniform, carrying a few bags and a crutch.
“You’re up.” She said, slightly surprised. “How’s the head?”
“Well, it’s not actively bleeding, so I suppose I have nothing to complain about.” Alastor said. He tilted his head towards the crutch. “Is that for me?”
“Yeah, just for a few weeks.” Erin said, juggling the things she carried around to avoid dropping anything as she passed it to Alastor. “You have to adjust the height, and once you’re healed, give it back. It’s a loan.”
“My deepest gratitude.” Alastor said, grabbing it. It was plasticky, and the ugliest shade of blue he’d seen since Vox chose his latest fashion, but it would serve its use. “Would you like me to cook your favourite meal for dinner today?”
“I would like you not to cook at all for a few days.” Erin said. “Stay off your feet.”
“No cooking?!” Alastor said, aghast.
Erin nodded. “No broadcasting either, until your concussion clears.” She added, just to torture him further.
“I should’ve died in the fall.” Alastor declared, overly dramatic. “What is the point of living if I can’t do what I love?”
“It’s just for a week or so, you’ll live.” Erin said, slightly amused. “It’s not like you can cook and enjoy the radio when you’re dead.” Oh, if only she knew. “By the way, did you guys decide to uproot the garden? I saw Husk and Angel working out there.”
The garden? Did she mean that sad little excuse of bush rows that had barely any flowers that weren’t wilting or already dead? Alastor wasn’t particularly sad to see it go.
“God only knows what goes on in the heads of my coworkers, my dear, god only knows…” Alastor said. He tried standing with the crutch, and succeeded. It was probably at the right height.
“Wrong arm.” Erin said. She helped him correct that. “I don’t suppose this hotel has a secret elevator hidden somewhere?”
Alastor hummed. “Now that would be awfully convenient, wouldn’t it?” He shrugged as best as he could with the crutch. “I’ll live, it’s only one set of stairs. I solemnly swear I won’t fall down again.”
“I’ll hold you to that one.” Erin joked. “I’m off to change. See you at diner.”
“Good-bye, dear.” Alastor said. He watched her go before walking as best as he could to the kitchen.
He was grateful for his past self’s overabundance when it came to cooking. There were plenty leftovers he could heat up and enjoy without breaking Erin’s absurd rules.
He sat himself down with a bowl of stew and rice and put the radio on. He enjoyed his meal alone for a short while, until finally other damned souls entered the kitchen.
Angel and Husk both looked sweaty, oddly dirty, and tired. Husk made a beeline for the sink and drank from the tap directly, before grabbing a glass and offering Angel some water as well. They both pointedly ignored Alastor. Rude. Incredibly rude.
After soothing his thirst, Husk stretched. “I’m going to take a shower,” he really needed one “and a nap. Wake me up when people are asleep and I’ll help you move the body to the forest.”
Angel gave him a thumbs up as he kept drinking. Husk left.
Alastor blinked. “What body?” He asked.
Angel filled his glass again and sat in front of him. “Some fucker tried to kill Vaggie up in the higher floors or something. Charlie accidentally threw him off and he fell down and crashed.” He said, before drinking again. “Me and Husk found the fucker–it was Arno, I think. Remember that guy?”
The French guy? “Maybe.” Alastor said. It didn’t really matter.
“Yeah, well, we found him, and since we didn’t want people going insane or calling the cops, we dragged him round the corner and buried him beneath the old flower beds. We’ll move him this night into the woods.”
Good idea. Shallow graves never stayed graves for long, Alastor had learnt. Though he had tended to use crocodiles far more than graves.
“Well it seems like I’ve missed quite the evening!” Alastor said. He’d have to ask Charlie later. Her reaction to killing a human soul? Oh, that had to have been glorious. He was already imagining the moral dilema. Delicious.
“Yeah, pretty much.” Angel said. He looked exhausted, and not just physically. “I wanted to talk to you.”
Alastor blinked. “Oh?”
“I’ve… thought. About your proposition.” Angel said, with something akin to shame.
Alastor smiled. “I take it that you’re tempted to accept?”
Angel made a face. “Yeah. Fuck it. Sure.” He shrugged. “I’ve already fucked my ways of getting to Heaven, might as well make Hell slightly less shitty.”
Alastor had no idea what he was talking about. He didn’t care, either.
“Wonderful!” He said, smiling brightly–and genuinely–. “I can start teaching you the finer details of summoning tomorrow, or perhaps over-morrow, since you do have to business to take care of tonight, and that can be quite tiring. Best of luck to you.”
“That’s it?” Angel asked, confused. “No handshakes? No deals?”
“Not until you are aware of what you’re getting into.” Alastor said, feeling charitable. It would not do well to alienate potential allies, even if Angel Dust was rather annoying at times. “Though I trust your mind won’t change, my friend.”
“Whatever you say, Smiles.” Angel said, standing up. “I’m going to go check on the girls. Don’t fall off any other staircases.”
Alastor rolled his eyes, and watched him go. If he ignored some of Angel Dust’s behaviours, he might even forge him into an useful ally after all. And, if not, well. It couldn’t be worse than Valentino.
This would be fun.