Apologies for the lack of illustrations in this chapter. The only thing I could think to draw is well beyond my skill set.
I can't promise I'll be able to do it but if there's something from this chapter you want to see drawn, let me know ... Or maybe find an actual artist to outsource it to. (Good luck with that. đ)
Want to see the inside of the book I shared last blog update? Here it is! âŹď¸âŹď¸âŹď¸
As far as I'm concerned, the second scene in this chapter is where things start to get fun in this story. So for the handful of folks who've made it through all the requisite establishing stuff and are sticking with me, thank you. Your reward? Now we start playing! đ
Recommended Listening
Cherri staggered through the front door of the hotel, dripping wet. âIt is so fucking hot out there today!â she gasped, swiping the sweat from her ample chest.
Angel Dust grinned at her in greeting. âHow hot is it?â
âItâs so hot that a hooker offered to blow on me for an extra fifty bucks.â
âYou take her up on the offer?â Angel asked.
âYou know it,â Cherri said through her laughter.
Grace smirked. âEh, Iâm sure it's no worse than that one summer we had in Phoenix ⌠or the spring break I took in Miami.â
âI think today would be a perfect day to make use of that new pool,â Angel suggested. He glanced at Grace. âCharlie make you a swimsuit with all that wardrobe when you first came here?â
A clear invitation to join them without straight up inviting her. She didnât decline, instead gasping, âHey! You said âcameâ without a moan!â
Angel countered, âAnd you didnât answer my question.â
âIf the hotel has a pool, Iâm sure she made me a swimsuit.â
âAnd if not, you can always borrow one of mine,â he offered. Now it wasnât so much an unasked invitation as it was an assumption sheâd join.
Grace assumed Angelâs idea of a swimsuit would be the garment equivalent of a Catâs Cradle. Though she may have been settling in, Grace had no interest in revealing that much of herself to any of the hotel residents.
Well ⌠maybe Lucifer ⌠although he wasnât anywhere to be seen that day. Luckily for everyone, except probably the boys who seemed to enjoy watching drama unfold. Grace, however, didnât relish putting on another performance for them.
They went to their respective rooms to change and Grace was beyond relieved to find a few swimsuits in her drawers. She picked the most modest of the bunchâa hot pink one-piece with cut-outs on either side at the waistâand threw a pastel pink sarong over it before scrutinizing herself in the mirror.Â
Charlieâs clothing design wasnât half bad; Grace appreciated that the princess had taken her tastes into account.
She met up with Cherri and Angel Dust in the hall outside her room. Judging by the skimpiness of Cherriâs string bikini, it had come from Angelâs wardrobe. Regardless, Cherri seemed perfectly comfortable in it.
Then again, if I was shaped like her, Iâd parade myself around like that, too.
The three headed out to the pool, passing the bar where Alastor was chatting with Husk. They both paused their conversation to watch the trio walk by. Alastor was smiling as always, but for once his mouth was closed, a single cute little fang poking out from his overbite.
Grace glanced away quickly.
Alastor and Husk had some form of relationship. They talked. If Grace ever had any hope of figuring out why Alastor brought her here, Husk was probably her best bet in getting any answers.
By the time they reached the pool, Grace was, for some inexplicable reason, aflame. She jumped right into the water without first testing it and swam a few laps before emerging and hanging on the edge beside Cherri and Angel Dust.
âHow are you liking it here?â Cherri asked her. âLooks like youâre finally settling in.â
Grace shrugged. âAs far as Hell goes, itâs probably the best we can do.â She rested her cheek against her forearm. âGetting to know everyone has been really helpful in making me feel welcome.â
âWell youâre pretty entertaining, yourself,â Angel Dust said with a wink. He especially seemed to love hearing about her sexcapades.Â
âCan I ⌠ask ⌠something?â Grace said, regretting it before either of her companions replied. No backing down now.
Angel said, âYeah of course.â
And yet she hesitated. How to make this sound like Iâm not fishing for info? Because she was doing just that even if she didnât want to admit it to herself. âWhatâs up with Alastor?â
Cherri muttered under her breath, âNot his dick.â
âYou wish!â Angel laughed and splashed her in the face.
âNo, you wish, Angie! Youâve been barking up that limp tree since you first met him!â
Grace didnât appreciate the response. âCâmon, guys, Iâm being serious!â Give me something to work with!
âDo you really ⌠not know anything about him?â Cherri asked.
Grace shook her head silently.
âDo you really want to know anything about him?â Angel Dust teased.
Grace frowned. âI wouldnât have asked if I didnât wanna know!â
Cherri and Angel exchanged glances. Angel dipped under the surface of the water and came back up, shaking his head and spraying water all over.Â
This reluctance they had to answer Graceâs question concerned her.
âIâm sure you already know heâs one of Pentagram Cityâs Demon Overlords,â Angel began.
âYep.â A demon Overlord wanted me here. Grace filed that little tidbit away to panic about later.
âThere are lots of rumors about him. Like that when he first appeared in Hell, he made a name for himself by killing and devouring Overlords whoâd been in power for thousands of years.â
Grace swallowed hard and remained silent.
âHeâs also known as the Radio Demon because he would broadcast the screams of the souls heâd tear apart.â
Well, that would explain all the creepy-ass radio shit he pulled on me. She caught herself before admitting, If youâre trying to scare me, itâs working. They didnât need to know that. Undoubtedly the teasing would be relentless and the last thing she needed was Alastor getting wind of her opinions. And she was sure he knew whatever they did. And then some.
âNow, ya gotta take some of that story with a grain of salt,â Cherri pointed out. âWhere did you first hear it, Angie?â
Angel muttered, âMimzy.â The disdain was clear in his expression for whoever this âMimzyâ was. Grace didnât like her on principle. âSo who knows how much of it is true. Although âŚâ
Graceâs eyebrow jumped up. âAlthough?â
âI did see him literally tear those loan sharks to shreds,â Angel reminisced, âand he definitely enjoyed every moment of it before he ate them.â
âHe ate them.â
Angel Dust nodded. âHe ate them, and he was giddy and hysterical while psychologically torturingââ He stopped, casting a wary glance at Cherri. âNever mind that.â
Cherri frowned at him.
What in the actual fuck could Alastor possibly want with me? She could see no way of fitting into his afterlife if any of this was true. And so Grace wanted to arm herself with as much information as she could find.
âWhere did he come from? When did he die?â
âWhatâs with all the sudden interest in Alastor?â Angel asked.
âItâs not obsession,â Grace said a bit more defensively than she intended, quickly following with, âKnowledge is power.â And this may be the only power I ever have over him. She felt like sheâd need all the power she could get to protect herself from him.
âWe didnât call it obsession.â Angelâs eyes narrowed. âAnyway, Alastor has been a bit of a mystery since he came here to help Charlie with her hotel. Some folks think he was the Axeman of New Orleans.â
âOh, no shit!â Grace breathed. âMy grampa told me about that guy!â Which then gave her a vague estimation of both the Radio Demonâs age and originâif there was any truth to that story. âThat letter he allegedly wrote to the local newspaper was completely unhinged!â And seemed to fit with the behavior of the demon skulking in the shadows of the hotel.
âThere was a letter?â
âI donât recall much about it, to be honest. It was very ⌠theatric. It addressed the audience as âmortalsâ and mocked the police investigation. Andâhe said he was very fond of jazz. That anyone playing it in their homes would be spared his wrath.â
âMimzy did say the way to Alastorâs heart was through whiskey and jazz,â Angel said thoughtfully.
Cherri looked at him incredulously. âMimzy said that.â
âIâm paraphrasing âcuz the way she said it was stupid.â
âEverything about her is stupid. Seems the stupidest thing to me is implying thereâs a way to something we all know Alastor doesnât even possess.â
âOh come on, you donât really believe that Axeman bullshit, do you?â Angel teased.
The Axeman had been real, whether or not the deranged letter was. Those people who were murdered were very definitely, undeniably and irreversibly murdered.Â
Cherri countered, âAlastor doesnât need to have been the Axeman to still have been a serial killer. Itâs not like the two things are mutually exclusive.â
âYou guys,â Grace said, dropping her voice and speaking through clenched teeth. âChange the subject, change the subject.â She neednât see Alastor to know he had stepped out onto the veranda.
Angel Dust gawked at her. âHow the fuck do you do that?â
Could nobody else feel the air change when he was nearby? That gave her even less to like about him. She wondered if Angel Dust would believe her if she claimed that dik-diks had eyes on the back of their heads. âIâm sorry to dip out on you, but ⌠I gotta go.â
Grace swam to the shallow end of the pool and hurried out, swiping the towel and her sarong from the rattan lounge chair before sprinting by Alastor, keeping her gaze trained on the deck at her feet.
The hotel was quiet; it seemed the other residents were out and about their daily business by the time Grace emerged from her overnight coma. She helped herself to some cereal and took her breakfast into the dining room.
Sitting there alone at the far end of the table was Alastor, reading a newspaper while sipping from a mug that stated in bold typeface, âOH DEER.â At the moment, he looked at peace. Fluffy and non-threatening.Â
His ears actually look kinda soft.
She stared, holding her breath. Maybe he hadnât noticed her. When Grace took a step back to find a different place to eat, his left ear swiveled toward her. Shit!
Without looking up, he greeted her: âDonât think I canât tell youâve been avoiding me.â
âIâm not avoiding you,â Grace replied on impulse.
Alastor glanced at her over the edge of the paper without raising his head. Threat, menace, terror, sinister, nightmare, danger danger danger!
âI was just passing through.â And the moment she said it, she realized how incredibly stupid it was. The dining room was a cul-de-sac.Â
âLying is unbecoming on you, Little Fawn.â
Little Fawn.
For a pounded heartbeat, Grace thought sheâd fainted, standing upright and with her eyes wide open. Blood raged in her cheeks, her ears, flooding into her neck and chest. That level of familiarity brought to light a remarkable fury within her. âDonât you dare call me that.â
He repeated, his voice as poised as ever, smiling as if nothing ever bothered him: âIt couldnât be more obvious that youâre avoiding me.â
Grace clutched the bowl between her hands. âWell do you blame me?â
He blinked. âWhat have I done to you to deserve that?â
âHow much time have you got?â
His smile shifted into something that looked eerily genuine. âEternity, my dear. Same as you.â
She recounted the stories sheâd heard about him, adding in her own observations for good measure.
He scoffed. âOh, please! Only some of thatâs true.â
Grace set her bowl on the table, pressing her palms into it and leaning forward although she was at the far end of the dining room from him. âThe fact that any of itâs true is horrific!â
Alastor laid the newspaper down, putting the mug down beside it. He folded his hands together, addressing her with a wicked twinkle in his eyes. âYouâre not exactly a paragon of virtue, now, are you, Grace Bedgood?â
She broke out in gooseflesh, her mouth falling open with a quiet exhalation.
âAt least give me the same chance youâve afforded the other sinners here before you decide you hate me.â
Grace scowled. âDonât put words in my mouth.â
He lifted an eyebrow, his stare weighing on her.
She added for what she felt was good measure, âI ⌠donât hate you.â
âYou donât like me.â
Her heart raced. Would she ever get used to that feeling now that she was experiencing it again? âWhat reasons do I have to like you?â
Alastor shrugged and replied simply, âI brought you here.â
The words slipped out before she could stop herself. âShut up!â
Though he continued to smile, his eyes flashed. âApologize.â
âBite me!â Oh for fuckâs sake, stop, Grace! How stupid are you?
His eyes widened, his grin widened. His eyebrows shot up. If Grace had to assign an emotion to that face, it would have been âexhilarated.âÂ
And that was how she discovered she could still get palpitations even when dead and in Hell. After all this time.
Alastor replied, âYou donât mean that.â
Grace blinked, leaning back. Was his radio filter off just now? âWhat?â
âWhat?â he echoed instantly, the voice filter on as if maybe sheâd only imagined it off.
It occurred to her in that moment who Alastor reminded her of: He was just like that sleep paralysis demon who had haunted her in life for years.
Ohhhhh shit. That explainedâwell, not everything. The Radio Demon was terrifying enough based on his own merits, but that sure explained a lot of her initial feelings toward him.
âIf you donât hate me,â he continued, dropping her gaze in favor of the newspaper, âand youâre not avoiding me, youâll join me for breakfast.â Alastor motioned to the seat nearest him.
Youâre not giving me much choice now, are you, asshole? Well, of course she had her free will, but if she took her bowl of cereal elsewhere, it would do nothing but justify his opinion. And Luciferâs nuts, she did not want to prove him right. So Grace pulled out the chair beside herself and plopped into it, stuffing a spoonful of soggy cereal into her mouth and chewing it angrily while staring him down. Howâs this for hate and avoidance, you burgundy bogeyman?
He said nothing more. This was clearly some twisted game for himâit was apparent he was getting a kick out of making her miserableâand he was testing her willingness to play.
The ensuing silence was uncomfortable enough to make her want to die all over again.
Grace lost this challenge, finally saying, âYou were a killer.â
Resemblance to her sleep paralysis demon aside, she wanted nothing to do with him inherently; sheâd spent her lifetime trying to save lives and comfort the injured and the infirm. He was appalling. Is appalling.
âWas. Am.â He said it just the same way heâd order an appetizer at a restaurant or comment on pleasant weather.
And now he was making conversation akin to pulling teeth without sedation. Her voice softer than she wished, Grace asked, âWhy?â
âWhy does anyone do anything? Power. Control. Boredom.â He cleared his throat. âSo now you tell me: What are your aspirations?â
Grace blinked, swallowing her last bite of cereal in a painful lump. âWhat do you mean?â
âWhat do you want to do with your afterlife? Be an Overlord?â
She laughed despite herself, his suggestion was just that outrageous. âNo! Why?â
âFor the same motives a serial killer might have. Power. Control. Boredom.âÂ
Grace bit her lip to keep from laughing, quickly covering her mouth to hide her smile.
âAre you seeking redemption?â
A laugh slipped out within a scoff. âBelieve it: there's no redeeming me.â
âSurely you must want something. Everyone wants something.â
âWhatâs it to you?â she challenged.
He chuckled wickedly, the sound sending a chill right through her body. It was far deeper than his radio-filtered voice led her to expect. âItâs all just entertainment to me, sweetheart.â
âI wantââ Grace hesitated, weighing the pros and cons of answering. She knew heâd just make her miserable if she didnât give him what he wanted. So she wrung her hand, snapping her fingers to try to recall the phrase. âOh, whatâs it called? I want âScary Dog Privilege.ââ
He looked at her, arching a single eyebrow in question.
âSecurity,â she clarified. âSafety. Iâm just ⌠so âŚâ She sighed, âtired âŚÂ of being at everyone elseâs mercy.â Go ahead: find entertainment in that, you monster!
Alastor grinned. How that was any different from his standard smiles, Grace would never knowâbut he was unmistakably grinning. âOh, Iâm sure in time we could come to some sort of an arrangement.â
And now Grace was suitably petrified.
Stay sane, deer friends!
I could see Angel Dust wearing one of those skimpy swim suits that twist and turn on themselves. The ones that look like they would be impossible to put on.