Chapter Text
The red hue from hell’s equivalent of the moon’s light seeped through the gaps between the curtains, dimly illuminating Carmilla’s bedroom with a red haze as she and Roise slept peacefully or as peacefully as one could in hell, where Pentagram City never slept. Always filled with the sounds of screams, gunshots and explosions that ran throughout the night as sinners prowled the streets. Except…
Tonight, none of that could be heard. It was silent and still as if time itself had come to a stop—paused to allow everyone to rest after the chaos Vox created.
Nothing could—would be able to ruin the rare peace they had been blessed with.
Absolutely nothing.
Until…
Carmilla’s phone rang, piercing the silence like a shrill scream and arousing both Carmilla and Rosie from their slumber.
Roise turned on the bedside lamp, and Carmilla reached out for her phone. She blinked blearily at it before answering the call and putting it on speaker, slight irritation in her voice as she did so: “Velvette, are you aware of what time it—”
“—H-He’s gone…” Velvette’s voice cut in, echoing through the room—wobbly and filled with so much sorrow it made Carmilla and Roise sit up in alarm. “…H-He—”
“Breath, Mi Vida (my life),” Carmilla said softly, brows furrowing as Rosie moved even closer with a grim expression. “Who’s gone?”
“V-Vox…” Velvette managed to choke out between a sob, breath shuddering. “…I-I didn’t think he w-would…” Another sob tore out of her throat, making their hearts ache and wishing they were there to comfort her as more left Velvette, cracking her voice as she struggled to continue on: “B-But then I-I…” She broke off, snivelling. “…F-Found him. A-And—”
“My doll,” Rosie soothed this time, leaning closer to the phone. “We’ll be right over. Wait for us, okay?”
“O-Okay.” Velvette sniffed, ending the call.
…
They found Velvette outside of what they assumed to be Vox’s bedroom with her back pressed against the door as she sat with her knees hugged to her chest and head buried between them as she wept.
Velvette looked up when she heard the synchronized clicking of their heels on the hardwood as they drew near. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, her mascara was running and streaking her cheeks along with tears.
Velvette’s lips quivered once she met both of their gazes and stood up, throwing herself at both of them.
Carmilla and Rosie embraced her.
More tears spilled from Velvette’s eyes. She gripped onto them both, letting out broken wails of grief that racked through her frame and filled them with pain.
It hurt them seeing the usual overconfident and snarky overlord so distressed.
All they could do was hold Velvette tightly as she melted into a puddle of grief.
…
It took a while, but Velvette eventually calmed down, wiping her face and blowing her nose with the handkerchief offered by Rosie.
“I’ll get you hot milk,” Carmilla told Velvette, picking Velvette up like she used to do her daughters when they weren’t old enough to walk.
Velvette nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She buried her face into the crook of Carmilla’s neck and clung to her, not giving a fuck if it made her look weak.
Normally, she didn’t like being picked up. But, right now. Velvette didn’t mind. She welcomed the warmth of being held so close by one of her lovers.
“I’ll go take a look,” Rosie said, stopping herself from saying ‘the body’.
Velvette was already in a delicate state. Rosie didn’t want to worsen it by reminding Velvette about what was behind the shut door.
“Alright.” Carmilla gave Rosie a kiss on the lips. Rosie returned it before leaning down slightly to press a kiss to the top of Velvette’s head and then turned around to open the door.
…
When Rosie stepped inside, closing the door behind her. She was grateful she wasn’t a lesser sinner because if she had been. She would be puking out her guts at the sight before her.
But since Rosie was both an overlord and a cannibal. She merely grimaced, and her heart panged sympathetically more towards Velvette than Vox.
No wonder Velvette was so distressed. Rosie would have been too if she had found either Velvette or Carmilla or even one of Carmilla’s daughters in the state Vox was in.
Rosie was going to have to get one of her cannibals to stop by and clean the room, and also strictly forbid them from taking a nibble of Vox’s body.
But, first...
Rosie was going to have to inform Alastor. She feared his reaction would be far worse than Velvette’s.
Despite the rivalry and animosity between the two, Rosie knew they loved each other deeply. No matter how Alastor and Vox acted otherwise.
And Rosie’s seen what being away from Vox for seven years had done to Alastor.
She had felt guilty for separating them, and even now it tightened in her throat.
Rosie just hoped Alastor didn’t do anything drastic.
…
Vaggi was at the receptionist desk, going through bookings and emails to distract herself from the nightmare that had woken her up.
It was nearing 4 am according to the clock Vaggi sent a quick glance at as she started typing a response to one of the emails.
The phone rang, interrupting her typing. She groaned slightly and picked it up. “Hello, this is—”
“—This is Rosie,” Rosie’s voice came from the other line. It was brittle and strained with an emotion Vaggi couldn’t recognize. “May I speak to Alastor?”
Vaggi frowned slightly. “Alastor’s—”
As if hearing his name, Alastor appeared in a swirl of shadows with the usual smile on his face. “You called?”
“It’s Rosie,” Vaggi grunted, giving the phone to him and then leaving.
…
“Ah, Rosie, my dear,” Alastor chippered into the receiver. “What can I do for you this hellish morning?”
“Alastor, listen.” Rosie sounded like she was about to tell a child that their pet died and was breaking it to them as carefully and gently as possible as if fearing their reaction or in this case Alastor’s, as she went on: “Velvette called an hour ago. And—”
“—And how is this relevant to me?” Alastor cut in before Rosie could finish.
“Vincet’s…” Rosie paused, hesitating briefly before she continued: “Vox is dead.”
Alastor froze, grip tightening on the phone. His heart raced as he barely registered the words Rosie had just spoken. “Pardon?” he hoped he had heard her wrong, or this was just Vox pretending—playing a sick joke on Alastor to get back at him.
“I’m sorry, Alastor,” Rosie said. “Poor Vel found him.”
“I…” Alastor felt his entire world shatter into a million pieces. Each shard sharp and cutting—stinging every inch of him with pain. “How?” His voice was taut, his smile straining like a stretched rubber band about to snap as he desperately tried to keep the remaining pieces of himself intact. “Who killed him?”
“He did it himself,”
The phone slipped out of Alastor’s grasp, ears ringing and vision blurring.
He crumbled.