Chapter Text
Pentagram City, Hell. 2026
“Oh, c’mon princess! Quit pullin’ my leg!” Mr. Cliff laughed, slapping Charlie hard on the shoulder.
“Ha ha…um. I’m serious.” Charlie smiled uneasily.
“Sure, ya are, honey. Sure, ya are.” Mr. Cliff clasped a graffitied, rocky hand on her shoulder. “Look, you know how I can get sometimes. But we’re pals aren’t we? So let’s let bygones be bygones, eh? Just give me another week and I’ll cut ya the cleanest slate you ever seen—
Vaggie lunged.
“Hey! What the fuck?!”
“What part didn’t you understand?” Vaggie aimed her spear right at his pulse. “The rules were clear: redeem yourself or face the consequences. You’ve made your choice. Now back the fuck up.”
The sinner’s face contorted with rage.
“And what gives you the right to judge me?” he spat, glaring at Vaggie. “You’re just a washed-up angel who couldn’t even hack it in Heaven. Who the hell are you to decide my fate?”
Vaggie’s expression hardened. “I’m the one who lived through Heaven’s twisted idea of judgment once already,” She answered cooly. “You? You’re just an irredeemable piece of shit. You really thought you could use this hotel as a front for your cult leader bullshit while committing the same sins that damned you in the first place?”
From the bar, Husk gave a dry chuckle. “And let’s be real, buddy, you weren’t even good at it.”
“You got that right, pussycat.” Cherri added, leaning against the bar. “And let’s not forget how ‘ol Jerkoff here treated therapy like a bloody fuckin’ joke. Classic dickhead move.” She shook her head. “Ya couldn’t have fucked it up more if ya tried, mate.”
Niffty suddenly popped up from behind the bar, scaring the lights out of Husk and Cherri.
“He did help me make roach puppets once!” she exclaimed, single eye glowing with demented excitement. “I thought he liked them! I made them so they could ‘attend’ therapy when he wouldn’t.” Her face crumpled. “But Mr. Cliff was burning them behind my back the whole time! He even called my work disgusting!”
Niffty burst into tears.
“Aw, don’t cry, Niff. Look c’mere.” Angel, who’d been lounging nearby, swept the little maid into his arms. His extra pairs of eyes emerged as he glared at Mr. Cliff. “This prick ain’t worth ya goin’ to pieces over, ok? Your roach-rat puppet things? Fuckin’ art, baby! You’re practically like that Jim Henson guy—just crazier and with more bugs.”
“Gotta agree with Legs.” Husk chimed in. “That bastard’s opinion doesn’t mean shit. You’re the only one here who can turn a buncha bugs into somethin’ worth lookin’ at—what the hell does he know about art?”
Niffty sniffled. “You… you really think so?”
“Think?” Baxter cut in, hands folded primly behind his back. “It is laughably beneath a scientist of my caliber to merely think, my dear Niffty. I know so! Why, your vermin puppet shows are some of the most intriguing behavioral experiments I've witnessed since arriving in Hell! Do you have any idea of the precise, neurological stimulation required to make arthropods perform the entire choreography of Ms. New Booty [1] from start to finish? I bow to your methodology!"
“That was pretty impressive. I ain’t never seen a roach throw ass before.” Cherri said.
Husk raised an eyebrow. "The fuck kinda praise is that?"
Baxter straightened, his gaze focused coolly on the decidedly unimpressed Mr. Cliff. “The better question,” he said, “lies with our former friend here. And let’s not overlook his little hobby of constantly stealing from previous guests and my lab. He’d sneak in, pocket whatever he could get his hands on—chemicals, tools, anything he could sell or get high off.” Baxter flipped open a small notebook, his tone clinical. “Oh yes! I’ve been tracking his behavior since day one. The list goes on and on. I’ve long ago surmised that our Mr. Cliff here is no more than a thief and indiscriminate opportunist.”
“You didn’t just break the rules. You let down everyone who tried to help you.” Charlie said, stepping in front of Vaggie to face Mr. Cliff directly. “No more chances. It’s time for you to go.”
The sinner blinked. Laughed again. When Charlie didn’t laugh this time, his face contorted into something ugly.
“You think you’re so high and mighty, don’tcha?” he spat. “You’re just as stupid as all the suckers I had wrapped around my finger back when I was alive. I could make them do anything: give up their life savings, disown their families, or even—Mr. Cliff snorted. “beat their own damn kids to death for hours, all because I told ‘em to.” He barked another harsh laugh. “And here you are, begging sinners to stay at this dump of a hotel, acting like you’re some kinda savior. Please! Come to your senses, sweetheart. You don’t want me to go. You forgive me, dontcha? You’re all about forgiveness.”
“I am.” Charlie said, eyes bleeding from gold to red. “But you’ve confused being smart with being cruel. Using people’s pain and desperation to control them…It makes you nothing but a monster!”
“It makes you nothing but a monster!” The sinner repeated mockingly. “Oh gimme a fuckin’ break!”
Charlie’s eyes filled with tears, but no one could deny the resolve in her piercing gaze.
“You… you’re serious?” he stammered. “You’re gonna kick me out? What kind of redemption horseshit show is this if you can just put a man out with the trash? Don’t look at me like that, bitch! You’re just as bad as I am!”
Mr. Cliff whipped around, pointing accusingly at the rest of the staff.
“Angel, you’re nothing but a used-up bag holes!”
Angel smirked, all of his trigger fingers itching and eyes glinting dangerously as he leaned back against the bar.
“Husk don’t even get me started on what a fuckin’ flea-bitten drunk you are!”
Husk suppressed a growl, ears flattening as his claws tightening around a shot glass.
“And you!” Mr. Cliff turned to Baxter. “You’re squarer than square! Always goin’ on and on about your experiments like anyone gives a damn!”
Baxter politely gave him the finger.
“And you!” He jabbed a finger at Niffty. “You’re a fucking basket case if I ever saw one! Who the fuck makes puppets out of roaches? That’s nasty as fuck!”
Niffty hadn’t heard a word—thanks to the noise cancelling headphones Baxter had placed on her. This frustrated the sinner even more so he resorted to calling Cherri a “wannabe terrorist” and a bunch of other insults that rolled off her back like water off a duck’s feathers.
Vaggie raised her spear. She could already smell the sinner’s blood before it spilled.
“That’s enough!” Charlie cried, her long hair undone as hellfire blazing around her. “You’ve had your chance, Mr. Cliff. And you’ve proven time and time again that you don’t want redemption! You just want to keep hurting people. I do not allow that here!”
Charlie fully transformed: horns curled outward from her head. Her eyes shifted, the sclera turning a deep crimson, the irises glowing white as her pupils split. Thin black streaks etched themselves across each eye, lending an eerie intensity to her gaze. Her bone-white hands blackened and became talons as a long, spade-tipped tail appeared, flicked behind her.
“Maybe… maybe there’s a reality out there where I could’ve saved you," Charlie said. “Just not this one.”
She reached out her hand. A golden trident materialized in her grasp, its handle intricately decorated with an apple encircled by a serpent. She aimed it at Mr. Cliff.
Take no shit from demons. Her father had always cautioned. Be the example you wish to set. Make an example of anyone who threatens you. Her mother had advised her just the same.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to do this.” Charlie began.
The display spooked the sinner enough to make him take a step back.
“You…” he stammered, his voice trembling. “You’re all just as screwed up as I am!”
“Maybe,” Charlie admitted, tail lashing. “But unlike you, we’re trying to be better. Something a monster like you will never understand.”
Even with the non-existent hairs on the back of his neck standing up and sweat beading on his mossy brow, Mr. Cliff started laughing again.
“Just look at your face! Brings back memories!” Mr. Cliff howled, clutching his stomach. “You have the same look my bitch daughter used to have. Always looking at me like that! Like she felt sorry for me!” He shook his head. “That stupid, miserable whore! I’d kill her again if I could. Fuck her and fuck you too!”
“You,” Charlie snarled. “Are getting the fuck out of my hotel! Right. Now.”
She slammed the base of her trident into the red and gold-gilded floor, creating a sizable crater there. The sound cut through the air and seemed to echo throughout the entire hotel.
“Alastor," Charlie announced, "Mr. Cliff will be leaving us now."
The lights suddenly flickered, casting shadows across the lobby. It signaled what everyone already knew: the end had come for the irredeemable sinner. Cheers erupted as the rest of the staff made their feelings about Mr. Cliff’s impending departure abundantly clear.
A trumpet roared from nowhere and everywhere at once.
The building rumbled, the walls shaking as a flash of sickly green light bathed the room in its otherworldly glow. When the light faded, the staff found themselves adorned in elaborate masks and glass beads of every color. The masks gleamed in the flickering light, making their exaggerated grins exact mirrors of the wicked joy they all felt. Husk adjusted his mask with a sardonic chuckle as he glanced at Angel.
“Now this,” he said, raising his glass, “is gonna be one hell of a send-off.”
“Ha! It’s been what? Two whole ass years in the makin’!” Angel agreed as the music swelled.
“It’s time! It’s time!” Niffty giggled maniacally.
“Who-hoo! Hell yeah!” Cherri pumped her fists in the air. “Sayonara motherfucker! Hope ya enjoy gettin’ fucked six ways to Sunday, dickhead!
“Eh la ba![2]” Came a jubilant cry.
The roar of the trumpet spilled out into a full-on brass band that appeared right in the middle of the stairway. The shadowy musicians jumped and jived their way down into the lobby, their instruments shining with an unearthly polish. Of the distinguishable performers, every last one was turned out in finely tailored suits, their rhythms precise and unmatched. Behind them came a troupe of dancers whose swinging hips and wagging shoulders could shimmy the fire right off stars. Then came the other performers, and oh, how they got down! Their costumes were a spectacle unto themselves: some were made with silver thread and velvet and comprised of gigantic plumes of ostrich feathers. Others were made of grandly patterned beads that rattled with every wild and joyous movement—all tied to the beat of drums. Of a mighty rhythm born in West Africa, christened along the Caribbean, and reborn in Congo Square. Alive, ancient, and unapologetic.
“Eh la ba!”
Confetti rained down like bits of colored fire. Revelers shouted, danced, and cheered with cries of: “Throw me somethin’, Mister!”
A gentleman in an incredible suit of purple, green, and gold obliged, showering the crowd with beads, cups, and other party favors. Then he commanded: “Now y’all gotta throw us somethin’ back!”
That something was, of course, Mr. Cliff.
The crowd seized him without hesitation, hoisting him into the air with raucous laughter. He was tossed onto a float overflowing with voodoo doll-like, grinning figures. The brass band shifted into a braggadocious bounce number that made the crowd howl with delight. Among them Cherri, Angel, and Niffty cheered wildly too. Vaggie and Husk kept them from lifting up their shirts and flashing someone— though Angel was very tempted to flash his ample chest fluff.
The float carrying Mr. Cliff lurched forward, transforming into a hearse as the band slipped into a rendition of Oh! Didn’t He Ramble [3].
Umbrellas bounced up and down, side to side, and whirled as tubas blared. Somewhere in all of that, Mr. Cliff was carried off into a shadowy portal. He was sucked into it and suddenly spat out at someone’s feet. He looked up—and there stood Lucifer Morningstar, the King of Hell himself.
Terrified, Mr. Cliff tried to stand up, found that it wasn’t possible, then started begging on his knees incoherently instead:
“Please, Your Majesty, I—
Lucifer silenced him with a wave of his hand, binding Mr. Cliff’s tongue with angelic magic.
“Oh, don’t bother,” The king said, golden eyes glinting with dark amusement. “You’ve already said more than enough.”
Lucifer straightened, his gaze sweeping over the trembling sinner with a mix of pity and disgust.
“Free will. Such a precious gift, wasted twice.” He tutted, tapping his apple-tipped cane against a solid surface that didn’t quite exist. “Once on Earth. And now here, in Hell. You broke my precious Charlie’s faith in you—her belief that you could still be redeemed. And for that, you’ll pay dearly.”
Lucifer tapped the apple of his cane, which gleamed ominously. It suddenly emitted a series of garbled sounds flipping through a plethora of stations at random: Snippets of songs and fragments of commercials until, finally, a chilling, disjointed reply was formed:
“The end… of the road… has arrived…̵ f̷o̷r̵ ̸y̷o̵u̶!̵”̶”
“Welp! Looks like the verdict is in, buddy. Time to meet your fate!” Lucifer smirked, surrounding the sinner in a ring of hellfire with a snap of his finger. “Now, presenting Hell’s greatest host—both on the air and off—and my very lovely, lovely consort and soulmate—Lucifer paused, not to relish Mr. Cliff’s terror but to flap all six of his enormous wings giddily. “Alastor, The Radio Demon!”
The king of Hell gestured toward a shadowy portal forming behind him. Mr. Cliff’s fear returned full force as the awful, oozing void yawned wide. Static crackled ominously through the air. The sinner could only tremble. He wasn’t sure which was more terrifying—his approaching doom or the utterly enraptured and undeniably smitten look on Lucifer Morningstar’s face.
Another warped ripple of static distorted the air followed by a jaunty, jazzy tune. Like a hot knife through butter, the shadowy portal split open. A tall, slim figure stepped through cane in hand, illuminated against the neon green burst of light. Alastor wore his signature grin, wide and unnerving. He rolled his crimson, radio-dial eyes at Lucifer. There was a touch of fondness in it as he strode toward the king.
“My dear Lucifer,” Came that smooth transatlantic accent. “Must you always announce me like I’m the star of some grand production? Though I must admit that in my case, your theatrics are entirely warranted.”
“Oh, but you are the star, Bambi.” Lucifer’s eyes shined with adoration as he pressed a tender kiss to the Radio Demon’s hand, letting his lips linger. “I wouldn’t dream of introducing you with anything less than the fanfare you deserve.”
Alastor chuckled and turned his attention to Mr. Cliff. Lucifer snapped his fingers, and the magical bind on the sinner’s tongue dissolved.
“Ah, our guest of honor!” Alastor exclaimed. “Tell me, Mr. Crock—what’s it like to have squandered your last shot at redemption?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “Feeling a bit regretful, eh? Or perhaps you’re still in denial? Either way it’s fascinating! Ha ha!”
Mr. Cliff opened his mouth to speak, but Alastor cut him off.
“While we’re on the subject let’s not forget your glory days! Tell me, my dear unfortunate fellow, do you still consider yourself untouchable, or has reality finally sunk in? Hmm?” Alastor’s grin widened as he paced a slow, deliberate circle around the sinner. “Now, onto more pressing matters—what’s your opinion on the hotel’s new menus? Quite the upgrade, don’t you think? We offer the finest dishes this side of the Pentagram! Simply divine.” Alastor leaned closer to Mr. Cliff. “Speaking of menus…You’re looking rather delectable.”
That charming facade began to crack. Literally. The air was suddenly aglow with strange, vivid sigils as the Radio Demon shed his present form like snakeskin. His tiny antlers branched outward in one great leap, impossible and grotesque. That slender form grew even leaner, twisting, elongating, and growing, growing, growing until Alastor towered over his prey many times over. Black ichor dribbled from his mouth, aglow with an old-timey luminescence.
“P-Please!” Mr. Cliff stammered, his voice trembling. “One more chance! Give me another week a-and I….I—please! I didn’t mean to—
“Oh, my dear, you didn’t mean a lot of things. But alas, here we are.” Alastor said with sadistic glee. “Now, let’s not waste any more time, shall we? Çé tem manjé! [4]”
Lucifer looked on, utterly entranced.
“Oh, my darling,” The king sighed longingly. “How I envy that poor bastard!”
Ah, to feel Alastor’s teeth tear into his flesh, to be consumed with the same ravenous fervor that had devoured Lucifer’s very being…It would be nothing short of absolute bliss!
Meanwhile, Alastor enjoyed toying with his prey.
“J-Jesus!” Mr. Cliff cried pitifully.
“A false prophet calling on a savior? Oh, the irony!” Alastor chuckled.
Mr. Cliff didn’t—couldn’t scream. Not when a talon nearly twice the size of his head, gently scraped along his face. It was joined by another, forcing a smile onto his face.
“There! Everything’s better with a smile!”
Alastor descended.
It was, as expected, a gloriously violent consumption. Neither too fast nor too slow. Tendrils of shadow turned sentient and blade-like pierced the sinner’s body, tearing into the very marrow of his soul. Mr. Cliff’s screams echoed as they were simultaneously broadcast across Hell.
The taste of that despair—the final, crashing realization of eternal failure—was exquisite. Alastor hummed with delight. Shuddered as a palpable wave of pure energy burst inside him. Oh, what a rush it was!
In the following quiet there was a soft sweep of Lucifer’s wings as he flew to Alastor’s side. He landed atop his beloved’s enormous shoulder, looking reverently at Alastor as the Radio Demon’s shadows withdrew, revealing the blood-red sky of Pentagram City. It took on a lighter hue as dawn broke.
Lucifer hardly noticed the hellish sunrise as he nudged Alastor excitedly.
"So, what’s your count now?” The fallen angel asked. “Five million? Five and a half?"
“Close but not quite, my dear!” Alastor preened. “Five million six hundred sixty-six souls and counting."
Impressed, Lucifer whistled. “That puts you right on par with some of Hell's oldest dukes!"
“Of course it does, darling. I crossed that hurdle ages ago!”
“And rightly so, my love. You are, after all, the strongest sinner in Hell.”
The two shared a look that was as fond as it was amused.
There was a shrill crackle of feedback as Alastor’s gigantic tentacles snapped back into his body where they vanished.
“Hold on a sec!” Lucifer cried, hopping into Alastor’s massive palm.
“What is it?” Alastor peered closely at him.
“Nothing! Just wanted to do this…” Lucifer planted a kiss on his palm. “And this…” he did it again and again.
“My! So amorous first thing in the morning?” Alastor teased.
“Can you blame a guy, Al?” The king swooned. “You’re so—Father above! You’re too goddamn beautiful! Especially with the sun shining on you like this in all your freaky eldritch horror.”
“That’s enough, Lu. Or are you trying to get us to make the papers again?”
Alastor affectionately plucked the king from his hand, set him down on the rooftop of the hotel and returned to his normal size. The deer demon adjusted his bowtie with a sassy flourish, pretending not to bask in the living admiration of his husband.
“Let the papers say whatever they want. They’ll never know you the way I do.” Lucifer’s eyes flashed possessively. “They’ll never even come close.”
“Well! Looks like I’ve wed myself to quite the devil.” Alastor grinned, pulling Lucifer in by his bowtie. “But you should know that it works both ways.”
Lucifer blushed a deep shade of gold and let out a frustrated whine as he held Alastor close.
“Damn it, Al! Stop making me wanna marry you all over again! Look what you’ve done! I’m falling even harder for you than I have already! You tyrant! You ought to be ashamed!”
“And if I’m not?” Alastor held him back.
“I’ll!—I’ll think of your punishment later! Just let me hold you!”
And Alastor did. At least until the sun rose a bit higher. Alastor didn’t usually favor letting others touch him like this, but somehow Lucifer always proved to be the exception to this long-held rule.
Once Lucifer had gotten his fill of cuddling, Alastor steered them both towards the door.
“Let’s go, my dear.” He said. “We don’t want to keep our dear Charlie waiting after such a splendid show!”
Lucifer sighed anxiously. It was never entirely a good thing when Charlie failed to redeem a sinner. Without Alastor and the rest of their family, Lucifer would never be able to face the reality of that on his own. With Alastor’s shadow giving his hand a reassuring squeeze, Lucifer followed his husband back down to the lobby.
There, they found Vaggie holding Charlie’s hand. She’d returned to her regular form. All traces of Alastor’s Mardi Gras parade had vanished too, replaced once more by the hotel’s usual ambiance.
“You gave it your all, babe. Don’t beat yourself up over it.” Vaggie said, brushing a tear from Charlie’s cheek.
“I’ll be okay.” The princess said, forcing a smile. “For every soul we save… there’s always going to be a few that we can’t. It’s all part of the job...”
“Which is why the show must go on.” Lucifer said, drawing Charlie’s tearful gaze.
“Dad,” she began.
The king wrapped her in a tight hug before she could say anything more.
“You did good, Charlie. You always do.” Lucifer said. “Even when it hurts—Especially when it hurts.”
“But I could’ve done better! There must have been something I could’ve done differently!”
Charlie’s smile fell as she wept into his shoulder.
“You did everything precisely the way you should have.” Alastor appeared at her side from a puddle of shadow. “Not only as Hell’s princess, but as the manager of this hotel. Every decision you make—even the most shortsighted ones—proves your unwavering commitment to the possibility of redemption towards those who want it.” His gaze flickered to the rest of the staff. “And those who are entirely lost causes.”
“I’m with Smiles on this one, toots.” Angel nodded in agreement. “Nobody coulda pulled off even half this shit with as much grace. You’re the real deal. True blue and all that. We’re all the proof ya need.”
“Gotta agree with Angel.” Husk added, wiping down the counter. “This whole redemption shit ain’t exactly easy to pull off, but you never let it knock you down for long.”
Niffty held up a sign smeared in rat blood that read:
AT LEAST YOU TRIED!!
“Don’t let anyone ya different!” Cherri added, discreetly confiscating Niffty’s knives.
She replaced them with explosives while Baxter furiously took notes on them.
“Agreed.” He said. “Statistically speaking your style of leadership should’ve failed many times. But I suppose you balance compassion with pragmatism in a way few ever could.”
“See? Everyone here’s got your back, sweetie. No more tears, alright?” Lucifer gently wiped away Charlie’s tears. “We’re all here for you.”
“Thanks, dad. Alastor. Everyone.” Charlie sniffled, lifting her head from his shoulder. “I couldn’t do this without any of you.” She smiled. “I’m… I’m glad you’re here.”
“Of course you are, my dear!” Alastor grinned. “After all, how could any of you have made it this far without yours truly? Ha ha!”
Everyone gave him the stink eye, including Lucifer.
Vaggie glared at him. “You really can’t help yourself, can you, pendejo [5]?”
“You are most welcome, Vagene!”
Vaggie rolled her eye and fought back a smile. Ten whole years hadn’t changed a thing about Alastor.
One of Alastor’s ears—the left one—twitched suddenly. Vaggie caught the familiar action and smirked as Alastor vanished into a wisp of shadow and static.
The Radio Demon reappeared in the nursery. Soft, pastel colors greeted him along with a large crib. From it played a soft, music box version of A Happy Day in Hell. It had been triggered by a tiny foot, which was still kicking against the crib’s bars.
“M-Ma— came a babbling coo.
“Good morning, my dear! Papa’s here!” Alastor greeted as he looked down into the crib.
“Maman?”
A little head popped up with his ears and Lucifer’s red cheek spots—Corrine. Her big bright eyes blinked awake; her curly hair (which she’d inherited from Alastor also) sticking up in every direction like an adorable dandelion puff.
“Well, hello, sweetheart!” Alastor replied.
Rinnie’s face lit up like a sunrise over the bayou.
“Mamaaaan!" She cried happily, stretching out every last syllable.
She sat up and bounced in her crib, those tiny hands reaching for him. Alastor’s shadow nuzzled her face like an affectionate cat.
"Did you sleep well? Of course you did. Just look at you.” Alastor picked her up gently and held her close, breathing in her soft, familiar milky scent.
They went through their morning ritual with practiced grace: Alastor humming softly as he bathed Rinnie, carefully styled her wild nest of curls, and lastly dressed her in the latest, criminally cute onesies Lilith had bought for her.
Through it all, Rinnie babbled a steady chorus of “maman”. It had taken some time for it to grow on Alastor since he’d only ever heard older women called that down in the Crescent City[6] when he was alive. It was a way to politely say: you’re old as fuck.
Alastor knew better than to call his own mother that, no matter how old she got. But now that this odd endearment had grown on him, Alastor fondly attributed it odd habit to Lucifer’s antics during his pregnancy. The deer demon let Rinnie gnaw on his cheek as he recalled the memory:
An evening curled up together in their bed, watching one of Lucifer’s duck-themed tv shows. Lucifer placing his hand on the swell of Alastor’s belly and singing that ridiculous song:
Papa and maman just sittin’ around and kickin’ it. Waitin’ for our lil apple dumpling, just kickin’ it, yeah…
Alastor had rolled his eyes at the time, but Lucifer’s song had stuck and now, here was Rinnie calling him “maman” like she was born to do it from the start. The first time Lucifer heard Rinnie say it, he wept with pride and told everyone in hell who would listen.
How time flies! Alastor mused. Their Rinnie was already seven months old.
Alastor’s rotten heart swelled with pride all his own as he fastened the tiny buttons on Rinnie’s onesie. She giggled and kicked her feet, prompting him to press a kiss to her tiny brow.
“You must’ve been a beautiful baby. You must’ve been a wonderful child…” his staff sang warmly with a crackle[7].
Rinnie bounced in Alastor’s arms.
“Ma-Maman!” she chirped again.
“Yes, yes. Let’s go downstairs and see your father and everyone else.” Alastor decided. “It’s just about time for your breakfast.”
The moment they appeared in the lobby in a poof of black smoke, Charlie broke into a bright smile.
“Hey there, Rinnie!” She cooed, reaching out for her.
Rinnie laughed and reached for Charlie in turn. Her older sister took her into her arms and made a funny face. Rinnie’s laughter doubled, filling the lobby and chasing off the earlier gloom. Then Rinnie started gumming Charlie’s cheek.
Lucifer practically melted on the spot at the overload of cuteness. My two most precious, precious girls! He thought, fiercely proud.
There wasn’t a seraph in all of Hell luckier than him. Great. Now his heart felt too big for his chest…
Then Lucifer’s phone rang. Grinning, he pulled it out, switched the call to FaceTime, and answered:
“Hey Lily!”
Lilith appeared on the screen, sporting sunglasses and a half chignon.
“Hello, Lucifer.” She said. “Are the girls ready?”
“Ready for what exactly?” Charlie asked.
“You bet they are!” Lucifer angled the phone so Lilith could see Charlie and Vaggie.
“Oh! Hey, mom.” Charlie waved. “Um, what’s going on?”
Vaggie smiled and waved too.
“And look who’s also ready for another beautiful day ahead!” Lucifer pivoted the phone. There was some toggling as he scooped Rinnie up into his arms then zoomed the camera in so that he could plant a big kiss on her cheek. In return, Rinnie let out a gurgling battle cry and started gnawing on his face.
“Oh, such a little tigress! Hello, Corrine.” Lilith laughed, warm and genuine.
Though the video didn’t fully capture him, Alastor peered into the screen and greeted Lilith with a little wave.
“Alastor. Still running everything smoothly, I see. I’m impressed.” Lilith lowered her sunshades with a knowing smile. “But is it my imagination or has the king lost his mind over you even more since Corrine arrived? Should I expect to hear good news soon?”
“Oh, you slay me, Lilith!” Alastor laughed. “I’m far too busy to even consider adding to Hell’s population again.”
“A pity then.” Lilith didn’t look convinced at all. “You should know that I’m still envious of the way you carried Corrine. I wasn’t nearly as graceful when I was carrying Charlie. Don’t look at me like that! It’s true.”
“Ow!” Lucifer cried in the background.
Rinnie, bored with chewing on his cheek, found his chin and began gumming it with renewed vigor.
“Ok! Ok! Gosh somebody’s hungry!” Lucifer laughed.
“One must wonder who she got that habit from.” Lilith shot Alastor an accusatory look.
“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.” He shrugged.
“Oh, she definitely gets it from you, Al.” Lucifer managed to get out between Rinnie’s attacks. “It’s not funny, Lily! Ha! This is nothing compared to what Alastor did to me when he was carrying our little apple dumpling. I swear, I woke up with bite marks every day!”
Alastor’s grin became undeniably smug.
“I should let you get to feeding Corrine before she takes Lucifer’s face off.” Lilith said. “Tell Charlie and Vaggie that I’m waiting outside. I’m in the purple corvette today.”
Lucifer agreed as he gently pried the baby off his face and ended the call.
“Girls, Lily’s outside!” He said, conjuring up some puréed fresh fruit and baby formula.
Charlie hesitated, but Vaggie convinced her it would be alright as they headed out.
“Al’s already got everything covered, baby. Let’s just enjoy the break. God knows when we’ll get another one.” Vaggie said, shooting Alastor a look that clearly said: I know you’ve been arranging that Cliff guy checked in but I’m not complaining.
“You’re welcome.” Alastor smiled back.
They left, but not before Vaggie gave Baxter and Niffty their orders. They were to man the front desk and handle any check-ins. No funny business. This included being in possession of insanely sharp objects and conducting experiments of a highly questionable nature. Niffty and Baxter nodded in agreement, set up behind the front desk, and proceeded to do the opposite of what Vaggie had told them.
Therefore, it was really up to Alastor to oversee the front desk. While Niffty made knives out of the bones of a newly butchered rat and Baxter observed a bubbling apparatus, Alastor went to check the guest registry. At a glance he could already tell that they would have a higher volume of guests later in the day.
After that, the radio host left the rest to Baxter and Niffty. He joined Lucifer and Rinnie on the wide, plush sofa just as the king had finished shaking up a fresh bottle for their daughter. Lucifer fed Rinnie while they watched tv. It was, of course, another one of Lucifer’s overly duck-themed shows: Quackington’s Creek Season 53: Daffney’s Final Flight.
The staff had, over the years, developed a grudging tolerance for them. Despite everyone criticizing the hell out of them, Lucifer’s shows had become a daily occurrence. Alastor watched Rinnie finish her breakfast. Watched Lucifer burp her with gentle, soothing pats to her back, her fluffy little tail wagging. She cooed, full and satisfied.
Alastor listened to her babble with no small amount of pride. If someone had told him that this would become his daily reality a decade ago, he would have laughed them right out of Hell. He would have taken it to his double grave that he’d ever entertained the notion of wanting anything remotely resembling a family.
Now here he was. Not-so-low-key married to the King of Hell with a new baby, and still running a hotel on top of maintaining his power as a fearsome overlord. And he was doing so with the very same people he’d once considered little more than investments.
After a particularly hearty burp, Rinnie reached for Alastor.
“Nooo! Don’t leave papa!” Lucifer pleaded. “I’ll die of loneliness!”
“I’m sure you’ll manage.” The radio host took her, using her bib to wipe her mouth. Then he kissed her chubby, clean cheek. Then again and again…
As much as Lucifer loved watching Alastor bond with their baby, he couldn’t help feeling a little jealous.
“Hey! What about me?” The king pouted.
“What about you?” Alastor said.
“Kiss me too!”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I see no one worth kissing.” Alastor’s grin widened as he added deviously: “At the moment.”
Lucifer’s eyes flashed. “Oh, I’ll show you someone worth kissing, Bambi! Just you wait!”
“Oh dear! Whatever shall I do while I wait?” Alastor feigned distress.
He kissed Rinnie again out of spite.
The phone rang at front desk. Baxter took the call without looking up from his experiment:
“Hazbin Hotel. How may I help you? Oh lucky me. A representative from VoxTech. How delightful.” Sarcasm inevitably crept into Baxter’s voice. “Need I remind you that I severed my employment with your… corporation quite some time ago? You’d do well not to underestimate my ability to not give a fuck. Not even for science, which is saying a lot.”
He held the phone away from his ear. “Niffty. Your turn.”
Niffty seized it happily with a:
“Hello! Yes! We have the cleanest rooms! Except for maybe a few blood stains—but that’s just from the rats offering tribute to me, their queen and….Oh…, you want—oh.” She listened more intently, her single eye dilating. “Okay!”
Niffty placed the caller on hold and scurried over to Alastor.
“Alastor! It’s a really important call!” She said.
“Niffty, my dear, you know what I said about solicitors.” Alastor said, watching Rinnie’s fawn ears flick up and down.
“It’s from Vox Tech.”
“Definitely a solicitor. Hang up.”
Niffty hung up the call and said bye after the fact. The phone rang again. She answered it.
“We have the cleanest—
“Who the fuck cares? Put me through to Alastor.”
“Sorry, Mr. Vincent but Alastor said no solicitors!”
“No solicitors?! Do I sound like one of those fucking losers to you? On second thought don’t answer that. Wait, since when do you know my human name? Did that stupid deer tell you?”
“Actually, I just kinda guessed. You died around the same time as me and you look like a Vincent.”
“Nevermind! Just get Alastor on the line!”
Lucifer frowned. “Al, it’s that tv-head guy again.”
“I’m aware, unfortunately.” Alastor sighed, the interference in his signal growing a bit more pronounced. “Tell him I might consider taking the call if he asks nicely.”
Lucifer smirked. Oh, he loved it when Alastor was being petty.
“Hey, Niffty,” the king yelled. “Tell Mr. Tv-head guy that Al said he has to say please first!”
“Okay!” Niffty nodded. “Alastor says you have to say please!”
“Oh come on!” Vox grumbled on the other line.
The line went quiet. Then, reluctantly Vox grumbled:
“Alastor can you please spare a second?”
“Ha! I can’t actually!” Alastor grinned. “Niffty be a dear and hang up!”
It took every ounce of hard-won self-control Vox had not to curse the Radio Demon out. Instead, he employed a bit of soft power, haggling here and there until Alastor finally agreed to take over the call.
He handed Rinnie back to Lucifer and teleported to the front desk via shadow. Took the phone, voice sliding into that transatlantic accent:
“Alastor speaking. Whatever you’re proposing had better be worth my time.”
Vox got right to the point and told him about the interview he wanted to do live at the hotel about its continuing success. After all, no other hotel in Hell could claim to be redeeming a soul or two every year for the last ten years.
“I may consider it—but on my terms of course.” Alastor said. “It will be conducted during one of my broadcasts, at a time of my choosing. If you or any of your representatives fail to show proper conduct during that time, I assure you will pay for it dearly. Live on air where all my dear listeners across every corner of Hell will hear you.”
As Alastor made his threat clear, his antlers grew larger. A hint of his eldritch form, peeking through as sigils glowed in the air around him.
Rinnie, watching from Lucifer’s arms, laughed. She was quite amused by her maman’s veves. By the sparkling green lights they gave off.
Alastor concluded the call. Allowing the edge of menace to linger as he said: For your sake Vincent, you had hope we understand each other. Ta-Ta!”
Alastor hung up and twirled his staff victoriously.
“What a productive conversation!” He grinned
“You’re doing an interview? Can I be in it?” Lucifer inquired, bouncing Rinnie on his knee. “Sounds like fun. But only if you’re alright with having me.”
“It’s a broadcast, dear. Why bother with all that picture-show nonsense?”Alastor corrected. “But I might be inclined to consider your request.”
“You sure about that, Al?” Angel snorted a laugh. “Ya know, the short king always makes things weird.”
“Now that’s just slander!” Lucifer looked scandalized. “I could never be weird! I’m Hell’s greatest showman!”
“Yeah sure.” Husk rolled his eyes, polishing. “Only when you’re tryin’ to impress Charlie or toss Alastor’s salad.”
“My what now?” Alastor tilted his head.
“Pussycat’s right.” Cherri laughed. “There ain’t no way you’re livin’ down the whole duck-ventriloquist to ‘The Devil Went Down To Georgia’ strip show thing.”
“Hey! That last part was supposed to be a private performance!” Lucifer flushed. “Plus, it was me and Al’s second anniversary date so of course I had to go all out!” Then his gaze darted to Alastor and all his shame went out the window. “It worked, didn’t it?”
Alastor’s phone pinged. A text from Lilith. He glanced at it: a picture of a tiny, elaborate dress, black and red with golden duck-shaped buttons. Velvet’s handiwork, no doubt. Alastor hadn’t thought much of the fashion-forward demoness initially, but her eye for detail was more than a little admirable.
He showed the picture to Rinnie. “Do you like it, my dear?”
Rinnie grabbed the phone and immediately brought it to her mouth and started chewing on it.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Alastor magicked the phone away with a flicker of shadow.
Lucifer quickly texted Lilith back in their group chat on his phone with a dozen thumbs up and crying emojis. Rinnie attacked his face again.
“Ack! I think it’s tummy time.” Lucifer chuckled.
“Already on it.” Angel said.
He’d already brought in a blanket, patterned with rainbows and oversimplified depictions of the hotel, Heaven, and Hell. Alastor recognized Charlie’s handiwork right away, but everyone knew the real showstoppers were the demented smiley faces he’d added in.
“Alright, come to uncle Angel, little lady.” Angel held out his arms.
“Nooo! It’s that time already? That means…” Lucifer handed Rinnie over with a dramatic sigh of resignation. “Why does it have to be right now? Why must my royal affairs beckon me like this?”
The seraphim suddenly became gravely somber. He reluctantly stood up from the sofa. Alastor followed suit, allowing the king to take his hands into his own.
Lucifer manipulated his height a bit so that he could kiss Alastor’s neck and whisper wistfully in his ear:
“Must I part from you?”
“If you’d still like to be called the king of hell then most certainly, my dear!” Alastor replied without the slightest bit of sympathy.
“Oh boy. Here we go.” Angel sighed, watching Rinnie kick out her tiny feet.
Lucifer returned to his regular height, magicked his great white hat onto his head, placed a hand dramatically on his chest, then declared more loudly:
“Don’t fret, my love! No royal duty will ever keep me from you, but…I’ll miss you with every last one I carry out!”
“You’ll miss me?” Alastor teased.
“Terribly.” Lucifer returned.
“How terribly?”
“Madly—
“You work like two hours a day!” Cherri yelled from the other end of the lobby.
Husk grabbed a drink. It was too early and he was too sober for this shit.
Lucifer ignored them, his gold-red gaze locked on Alastor.
“I’ll be home as soon as possible.” He breathed.
“Indeed.” Alastor nodded. “Now if only you’d actually leave?”
“Oh, alright.” Lucifer deflated. “Guess I’ll just leave without anything to keep me going for the next few hours.”
Lucifer looked pointedly at Alastor as he purposely drew out his goodbye. The radio host sighed, something wry in his smile as suddenly pulled Lucifer closer by his bowtie and kissed his red spotted cheek.
“Orévwar, mô oiseau.[8]” Alastor murmured.
That little dash of Louisiana French did exactly what the deer demon knew it would. In an instant, Lucifer’s form shifted. Alastor basked in the way countless eyes, radiant, ancient, and divine, stared back at him adoringly. All six of Lucifer’s wings caged the Radio Demon toward him.
“Really?! You’re going to play the French card?” Lucifer half growled, the sound echoing across unseen dimensions. “Are you trying to kill me, Bambi?”
“Çé kréyòl—and wi [9]. Always, darling.” Alastor purred, utterly shameless.
Lucifer growled fully this time, his horns sprouting out. A flame sparked to life between burning hotter than a supernova.
“Alastor…” Lucifer warned. “Don’t make me test the limits of your birth control.”
“Whoah! Hey!” Angel gasped and covered Rinnie’s ears as she cooed. “Ya got a baby here and you two are already workin’ on baby number 2?”
“Pardon.” Alastor returned unapologetically.
With a grin that was positively diabolical, Alastor reached over and pinched the flame between the king’s horns, putting it out right away.
“Have a productive day at work, dear!” The radio host said.
With a final, longing look, Lucifer vanished in a flash of iridescent, golden fire.
Angel waggled a brow and gave Alastor a look.
“Hey, if you and your royal hubby want some alone time later the upstairs utility closet’s free after six today.” He said.
“But that’s my special room!” Niffty frowned.
Several brows shot up.
“Not even gonna ask.” Husk was already working on his third bottle of gin.
“Angel, we do not use staff facilities to barneymug[10]. And Niffty, dear I’d like a word.” Alastor said.
While Niffty explained her deviant and frankly bizarre use of the utility closet, Angel played with Rinnie, Cherri joined Husk for a round of black jack, and Baxter went on experimenting at the front desk, producing within the next hour a pair of radioactive conjoined rats, a roach that could actually speak but only talked about strawberry pancakes, and a new paper shredder that could also shred souls depending on their fortitude.
Inevitably, a potential guest walked in—a woman with serpentine features and nervous eyes.
Baxter, having concluded his experiment, stood tall on a stepping stool at the front desk. Clinical as ever, he skipped the Hazbin greeting Charlie said was mandatory and explained:
“Maximum stay of two years. Complimentary with all amenities included. Policies and regulations are binding. Non-compliance results in termination of residency and quite possibly your entire existence. Agreed?”
“Um, uh…sure?” The new guest nodded, slightly overwhelmed.
“New check-in!” Niffty cried.
Together with Kee Kee and Razzle, she rushed over to help with the paperwork, room keys, and luggage.
The guest signed their name on a waver. Before the ink was even dry, Alastor took that as his cue to make his grand introduction. Now that Rinnie’s tummy time was over, she was back in her maman’s arms as Alastor offered the new guest his full host’s smile.
“Why hello there! Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel where redemption is your choice and your effort is pure entertainment!” His smile sharpened. “Failure to redeem yourself isn’t recommended but not entirely discouraged!”
There was a peal of inference as Alastor’s eyes glowed red. Rinnie babbled and chewed on her little hands as her maman’s antlers doubled in size and black ichor ran from his mouth.
“Your shot at redemption begins here! Achieve it or don’t. I don’t care!” Alastor laughed. “Either way you’ll be adding new blood to the hotel—and maybe into my broadcasts!”
The woman gulped, nodded again, and scurried toward the stairs, guided by Kee Kee.
The lobby settled down again.
The morning’s drama was now a closed chapter. Alastor conjured up a rocking chair (just like the one his pær[11] used to have) and sat down in it with Rinnie. He settled her against his chest as he rocked her gently to a lullaby his mama used to sing to him, in a life so far gone it felt like a story he’d heard about someone else.
“Ma— Rinnie yawned, “mannn…”
“Hush now, my dear.” Alastor whispered.
As if in protest, Rinnie lifted her head, ears flicking as she patted his cheek. As usual, she wasn’t going to go down for a nap easily. Too bad for her that in addition to being an incomparable host, Alastor was also the undisputed champion of nap time. Rinnie could resist his lullabies about as well as Prohibition[12] could resist a drop of hooch. Just as he expected, Rinnie’s ears drooped along with her eyelids. But that little hand of hers went right on tapping Alastor’s cheek defiantly.
“See? I always win.” Alastor smiled. “Accept your fate.”
As he rocked her, the deer demon marveled at her. At the innumerable impossibilities she represented. Alastor thought back through decades of calculated deals, brutal thrills, and power: pure and… unexpectedly lonely. The gnawing dullness of it, the constant hunger for new entertainment—how had it all become the connective tissue of this now? The tiny weight in his arms?
The hotel carried on around him as did the rest of Hell: Husk mixing a drink, Angel goofing off with Cherri, the scritch scritch scritch of Baxter’s notetaking, and Niffty’s frantic cleaning. Lucifer was off, ruling Hell— Charlie rejuvenating her heart and mind with Lilith and Vaggie.
Rinnie sighed in her sleep as Alastor rocked her, unaware of the scores of memories that flickered through his mind colorless yet vivid like an old silent film.
The Radio Demon hummed contentedly. There was no better time to savor the life he never thought he’d want. Nor the strange, winding path that had led him here.
[1] An absolute banger from 2006 by Bubba Sparxxx
[2] Louisiana French (Kouri-vini). It’s like saying “Hey over there!”
[3] A New Orleans jazz composition dating back to 1902. It’s often used at the end of jazz funerals.
[4] “It’s time to eat!”
[5] Spanish “asshole”
[6] A nickname for New Orleans
[7] A popular song from the 1938 film Hard to Get
[8] “Bye, my birdy”.
[9] “It’s creole…Yes.”
[10] 1920s slang for sex
[11] Father
[12] A period in US history (1920-1933) when the sell and consumption of alcohol was illegal. Fun fact: There are still parts of Louisiana where Prohibition is still in full swing.