The daily Alastor drawings (somehow) continue over on bluesky.

I've started what may or may not be a nightly (mental health?) update over on IG.

Three of them in the last eight days were drawn while waiting for doctors. Two of those three were while waiting for doctors at the ER (on different days).

I need life to just ... chill. Please.

Chapter 8: A Pentagram City 'Thank You'

Grace took forever to fall asleep that night and roused long before Alastor did the next morning. She lay beside him, struggling to enjoy being in his embrace. When he slept, he couldn’t hurt her. When he slept, he was harmless. He was snuggly. 

He was, in his sleep, what she wanted from him when she wouldn’t admit to herself that this was what their relationship lacked and what she longed for most. The abuse was delicious when it was novel but now it was all she ever got.

He stirred, giving her an extra hard squeeze before releasing her.

She swallowed hard, refusing to turn toward him. Refusing to be the one to open conversation. Grace sat up in his bed, looking down at her bare chest reluctantly. The jagged edges of Alastor’s bite had knit themselves together but still the skin there was puckered and a spectacular bruise marred the majority of an otherwise serviceable titty.

She took a deep, steadying breath before turning to glance at Alastor over her shoulder.

He looked content as a clam. A sadistic little cannibal clam who got off on bringing her pain.

You asked me not to leave your bed last night. The night is over and I fulfilled my promise to stay. Grace stood.

Still, he remained silent.

She met his silence with silence in turn, walking away from his bed.

When she’d had the presence of mind to do so after Alastor forced her to do a walk of shame through the Hazbin Hotel, Grace had stashed a few garments in the cabinet beneath the bookcase to the right of his fireplace.

Either he’d let her leave them there or he’d never noticed she’d done that; the spare clothes were where she’d left them. She pulled the bundled garments out of the cabinet and closed the door quietly.

As she stood, a clothed arm stretched over her shoulder to retrieve a book from the shelf.

Grace glanced at Alastor as he retreated, book in hand, to the nearby armchair.

Though she was sure he’d sit and read, Grace still turned her back to him as she dressed. Not that facing him naked would make any difference. Her curves were as arousing to him as a rotted-out tree stump covered in parasites and maggots.

Putting her bra on was far and away the most painful part of dressing. She swallowed a groan as she pulled the fabric over the bruise but couldn’t withhold the whimper when she tilted forward to adjust her breast in the cup. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Alastor watching with his head tilted to one side and a quizzical smile on his face.

Grace thought at him, Forever ignored.

She finished dressing with her back to him, then fluffed up her hair and wiped her cheeks to clean them of whatever mascara had run last night.

Though she had no appetite, Grace was going to force herself to have breakfast; a broken soul healed better when it was a properly fed and hydrated soul. Without saying a word, she headed for the bedroom door.

Alastor materialized in a puff of shadows between Grace and the door. She set her jaw and crossed her arms over her chest, instantly regretting the motion with a considerable flinch. 

His gaze softened for a heartbeat.

Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry don’t give him that satisfaction.

“Where are you going?” he asked with a shockingly non-confrontational tone.

“To get breakfast.” Grace answered with a decidedly confrontational tone.

“Let me accompany you.”

“I assure you, your presence is far from necessary.”

Alastor faltered, his eyes darkening. He said through clenched teeth, “Please.”

This whole morning hasn’t been awkward enough and now you want to drag the awkwardness to the dining room and ruin my breakfast, too? And probably make everyone else miserable while you’re at it? Sure. Why the fuck not? She glanced down and whispered a defeated, “Fine.”

He offered her his arm in a way that gave Grace the notion that taking it was not so much an option but a requirement. “I’d love to take you someplace nice. You deserve it.”

Grace’s mouth fell open wordlessly. Whatever this development was, she was going to try not to read anything into it. 

And immediately failed.

With blatant trepidation she knew her movements revealed to him, she accepted Alastor’s arm and allowed him to lead her out of his bedroom.

Breakfast was well underway in the hotel when Alastor escorted Grace past the dining room. Though neither said anything or made any noise worthy of note, gazes shifted from dishes to them. First Angel, then Husk, Charlie, Vaggie. Niffty. Lucifer. Kofax and Cherri. Faces frozen in surprise, they all watched the pair walking arm in arm.

The shock still seemed odd to Grace knowing they all knew about the blowjob she’d given Alastor.

Kofax waved at them. “Care to grace us with your presence for breakfast?”

Grace cringed but opened her mouth to readily accept the invitation when Alastor’s head swiveled back toward the dining room with a crack. He said nothing but that look was enough to make Kofax shrivel back into her seat.

“You’re clearly busy,” Kofax blurted. “I’m sure wherever you two are going is way better than here. We’ll catch ya later.”

Alastor looked forward once more and Grace caught the radio dial pupils before he blinked them back to normal. 

Ah, okay. Cool. Intimidating the shit out of my bestie. I see.

And also: what the fuck?! 

When Grace slowed her stride to try catching Kofax’s gaze, Alastor tugged her arm just shy of a full-blown yank.

Grace had no doubt there would be texts later. Lots of them.

Alastor took Grace to a bistro; the same bistro he’d taken her to when he first asked for her soul. 

It had been some months and their menu remained unchanged, which left Grace with the only palatable option of falafel. That also left her with some time to think while Alastor perused the menu, himself. 

She kept her gaze focused on the menu while she mused.

Maybe he brought me here to propose marriage and he’s all nervous about it and that’s why he’s gotten so fucking weird lately.

Grace glanced at Alastor from across the little wrought iron table and it sure as shit looked like he’d been watching her and glanced back down at his menu the moment she caught him staring.

She clenched her jaw. Hard.

There will be pie in the sky, Fat Nuggets will fly, and it’ll snow here on the thirtieth of February before that happens!

Oh, I made myself feel bad.

Being in love shouldn’t be this hard.

It shouldn’t be this hard because it’s not love. It’s lust. And that’s all it ever was.

Again, she peered at him.

And again, he’d been watching her and looked away the moment she looked up.

Oh, shit. I sold my soul to suck dick and I’m mad at him for taking advantage of me throwing myself at him? He’d have to be an idiot if he hadn’t done that. I think … oh, my good god. I may actually be worse than he is!

Alastor finally broke their silence, his voice low but filtered. “You’re quiet.”

Wow. You’re observant.

“Are you angry with me?”

Grace met his gaze. “Are you kidding me?”

“No? What would I be kidding you about?”

You cannot possibly be this oblivious. NaÏve? Whatever, whichever. “I’m not angry with you,” Grace said softly although she really wanted to yell it. I’m angry with my-dumbass-self.

“You’re lying.”

Oh, fuck you! “I’m just thinking.”

“I think you’re just regretting.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Radio Demon.”

“So then I’m right.”

“Yeah. You’re right with all the confidence of a mediocre white man who is, in fact, very wrong. But ... just for shits and giggles and to make conversation … what if I was regretting?”

His eyes went wide, then narrowed and his ears shot back. 

Did I say that out loud? I said that out loud. Oops.

Alastor made no verbal rebuttal.

“Still think my voice is like Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata?”

His eyes still narrowed, he glanced off to Grace’s side and replied through clenched teeth, “Yes.”

Her heart thudded.

“I’d convinced myself you didn’t actually hear any of that; I thought it just as well that you hadn’t.”

Grace blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Never mind.”

She was inclined to cross her arms over her chest but she caught herself just in time and, instead, crossed them and rested them on the table. Not that wrought iron was particularly comfortable to lean on but at least resting her forearms on it didn’t hurt like resting them on a half-eaten tit. “I don’t think I want to ‘never mind’ that.”

“I’m not giving you any choice but to never mind it.”

“Are you having regrets?”

They challenged each other with silent stares.

But then Alastor’s gaze softened and his eyes widened. “You annoy me endlessly.” 

Good.

“And I hate that I don’t hate it.” 

Well, that makes one of us. She gritted her teeth, hoping to pass it off as some sort of smile.

He looked unconvinced.

As chipper as she could, Grace said, “Consider that the small price of possessing me.” Bastard.

“My immortality is worth every irritant.”

Grace replied sarcastically, “Oh, you’re so romantic.”

“Listen. I may be Hell’s most powerful soul but I’m no mind-reader; Tell me, Grace Bedgood: what is it you want from me?”

Love. The word stuck to her tongue like peanut butter. I want you to care about me beyond the terms and conditions of our contract … which … is … basically the same as asking for you to love me. Oh, fuck. “You didn’t give me time to think through our agreement. At least give me time to figure this out.”

“Don’t take long.”

She glared.

“I’m teasing you. That’s almost as fun as denying you what you want most. Which is almost as fun as scaring you. Take all the time you need. We have eternity, after all, my dear.”

The waitress dropped off their dishes; Grace had to look away from Alastor’s. Even sitting outside, the smell of the meat in his order was especially pungent and turned her stomach.

“Do you think your parents would be pleased to see what you’re doing these days?”

What the fuck kind of question is that?! “I think my parents’ opinions don’t matter.”

Alastor’s eyebrows shot up.

Grace picked up a falafel ball and studied it. “My parents told me that I should, and I quote, ‘just get over it’ when they insisted on having my way-too-touchy, zero-boundaries, incest-denying cousins over for Thanksgiving dinner. Every. Fucking. Year.”

He was silent, as if trying to figure out the implications of what she'd said. And in that silence, she added, "I was never allowed to keep in my room. It was 'anti-social,' somehow."

Never mind the year when Big Beau missed his flight home, and keeping in her room became the worst possible decision she would make--up until she got married, anyway.

“Yet you became a nurse.”

Yes. I get it. You know all about me and continue to withhold all information about yourself. You win. She popped the falafel into her mouth and replied, simply, “I did. What's that got to do with anything?"

“You chose a vocation where all you did was help others ... even though you were mistreated.”

“I wanted to do what I could to keep other people from feeling the kinds of hurt that I had.” Is that really such a foreign concept to you? Tired of being Alastor’s focus, Grace changed the subject abruptly. “It bothers you to think I’m regretting my decision to let you have my soul. Doesn’t it?”

Alastor scoffed.

He actually scoffed.

“Don’t give yourself that much credit, Grace.”

“Do you enjoy taking advantage of souls when they’re at their lowest point? Wouldn’t it be better to possess them because they want to be yours rather than being desperate for your help?”

“It’s no matter.” He shrugged. “Either way, they’re mine.” His perpetual smile creeped wider and more wicked as his eyes narrowed on her. “Either way, you are mine.”

Grace lost her appetite entirely. Someday. Somehow. I will win one of these conversations.

Grace returned to the Hazbin Hotel to find fifty unread texts from Kofax. Now granted, Kofax was the type to send single-word messages. But even so, fifty seemed excessive for her. 

So rather than following Alastor, Grace split from him the moment they stepped through the hotel door.

She found Kofax alone in the hotel’s library, her face buried in her laptop.

Grace paused in the doorway. “Hey.”

Kofax’s head popped up. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” No! “Why wouldn’t I be?” Obvious reasons?

“I saw the look on your face when RD wouldn’t let you join us for breakfast. It was like he was holding you hostage. And I sent like a half dozen texts and you didn’t respond.”

Grace took the seat beside Kofax’s. Her laptop screen was filled with white text against a dark blue background. It had to be some sort of computer code; it was Greek for all Grace could understand it.

“A half-dozen? Do I need to teach you how to count?” Grace teased her.

Kofax tipped her head. “Mmm.”

“Where do I even start?”

“You can try starting with the thing that’s bothering you the most.”

That would be easier said than done. And yet Grace fell back on the thing that would likely consume all the rest of her afterlife. “He told me my curves mean nothing to him. That I’m not sexy.”

“Okay, first of all, if you’re not sexy, then I'm a festering boil with filled with turds. Secondly, I assume he's seen you undressed? What the fuck's he been looking at? The inside of his own eyelids?” Kofax gestured emphatically at her. “And also, he has sex with you?”

“It’s complicated, or something, I guess." Grace shrugged and mumbled, "I dunno.” She fell silent for a while before finally continuing, “But ... then ... he said I have the radiance of a starry sky. I smell like jasmine. He likened my voice to Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata, and my skin to silk.”

“Fucking bruh!” Kofax flailed. “You’re upset about that?” 

“Yes!” Grace flailed right back at her.

“He told you—very poetically, I might add—that you’re a treat for all of his senses! And … you’re upset about it.”

“What part of ‘yes’ are you not understanding?”

Kofax gaped at her. “The part where you’re upset that someone you love told you that you’re a sensual feast? Why does that upset you?!”

“Because at its core, there’s nothing sensual about what he described!”

“Tell me you don't know the definition of sensual without telling me you don't know the definition of sensual. It’s literally involving the senses, my sweet little dipshit! Listen: I’ve read my fair share of love stories. Actually," Kofax chuckled, "I’ve probably read everyone’s fair share of love stories. And that is without a doubt the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard. And, and! I’m willing to bet he wasn’t even trying to be romantic!”

“Oh, well, we can for sure agree on that!” Grace laughed but sobered instantly. “I want him to want me … like … a normal person would. I just ... I don't understand why he would say those things.”

“You tell me. It’s not like he was trying to spare your feelings.”

“That’s kinda what it feels like, though.”

“But why would he want to do that, Princess Grace? Wouldn’t that suggest he cares about your feelings? And wouldn’t that suggest that maybe he cares for you more than he lets on? And wouldn’t that suggest—”

“That I’m starting to feel like if I was a character in a story, it wouldn’t pass the Bechdel test?” Grace groused.

Kofax laughed. “Oh, don’t be silly; we both have names, agency, and we’ve talked about something other than RD.”

“Like what? Vox? Another man?”

“Vox is no man. He’s a piece of shit.” Crossing her arms over her chest, Kofax leaned back into her chair. “And anyway, I can tell when you’re trying to change the subject, you know.”

“My friends used to tease me … saying I was always so desperate for my next great lay that I’d go as far as selling my soul for it. Joke’s on them … or maybe on me because I ended up doing exactly that.”

“I thought you sold your soul to him for protection.”

Grace sighed heavily. “You and I both know that’s bullshit. Hell, even he knows it’s bullshit. He asked me at lunch what I want from him.”

“And you told him ‘your monster cock?’”

“I told him the truth.” Liar. “That I don’t know what I want from him now.” Mother. Fucking. Liar!

Kofax gave Grace a soft smile and whispered, “Could you be any worse of a liar?”

“Shut up. I know. I just … really hope he doesn’t know that.”

Kofax held Grace’s gaze for a few moments before replying with a snort, "Sorry, Sweetie, but I'll bet he does."

If he knew Grace had lied about that—which of course he had to—she realized he’d at least shown her an odd bit of mercy in not pressing her for the truth.

Grace stood with a hefty sigh. “I’m gonna go bug Husk for a drink.”

“Gracie—” Her name seemed to dangle off Kofax’s tongue. “I genuinely think if he hasn’t already, he might be catching feelings for you. Go easy on him?”

Feelings?

Of what?

Frustration? Confusion? Regret? Yeah, I can see it.

Grace pressed her lips into a hard, straight line—the closest she could get them into a smile. Without another word, she excused herself. 

But approaching the corner of the hotel in which the bar was situated, Grace caught hushed voices: the bar jockey’s, and one old-timey, and heavily radio-filtered. 

She slowed, stopped. Pressed herself against the wall and strained to listen.

“Women are bewildering.”

Grace blinked, her eyes going so wide that they started to water.

Husk responded, “Are we—are we really doing this?”

“Doing what?” Alastor replied.

There was a long silence during which Grace imagined Husk at a loss for words. She wouldn’t blame him. She, herself, was a bit stunned that Alastor would go to Husk for any sort of counsel, let alone anything like this.

Women are bewildering, Alastor? Grace thought. You're one to talk!

“The whole ‘you confiding in me’ or ‘you coming to me for advice’ thing! I know I’m a bartender but you have no right—”

“Please!”

Grace’s heart leaped right into her throat at that plea, the blatant desperation in Alastor’s voice. It was so strange, it sounded like  it came from a whole different sinner, altogether.

There was a lengthy silence.

“You know her. Help me understand her.”

“I know her,” said Husk in confirmation. “But probably no better than you do. The difference between us is, I respect her enough not to do something like this to her.”

A hand closed around Grace’s wrist, yanking her backward away from the corner. “What the fuck are you doing?” Kofax hissed as she hauled her right back into the library.

Grace blurted, “It’s not what it looks like!”

“So you weren’t eavesdropping on a private conversation between Husk and RD?”

She tucked her tongue into her cheek, musing for a moment. “Okay, so it was exactly what it looked like. Don’t make me feel shittier than I already do about it.”

“You should feel shitty!” Kofax flailed. “I’m sure if he wanted to share that information with you, your boyfr—”

“Don’t!” Grace cried, slapping her hand over Kofax’s mouth. “Don’t say it.” They regarded each other with hard stares. “Don’t call him that!”

Kofax studied her carefully, pulling Grace’s hand off her mouth. “You are without a doubt the strangest soul I’ve ever met.”

“And anyway, we both know even if it involved me—especially if it involves me—Alastor would never tell me. He tells me fuck all about jack shit.”

Kofax heaved a heavy sigh. “Give him time. This has gotta be uncharted territory for him and despite that arrogant, fearless facade, I’m willing to bet my entire tech collection that deep down, he’s terrified. I don’t think it’s a stretch of the imagination that he’s feeling feelings he’s never felt before.”

“I think you’re giving him way too much credit.”

Kofax crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back into her stance. “And I think you’re in denial.”

Hang tight, deer friends. We'll meet back here next Sunday. <3