Chapter Text
Charlie paced across the parlor, wringing her hands, muttering to herself in increasingly agitated tones. Lucifer sat nearby on the couch, hands folded in his lap, staring into the middle distance. He had that disassociated look about him again, as if everyone around him had ceased to be. Vaggie sat on the couch across from him, watching Charlie pace.
For what must’ve been the dozenth time, Charlie stopped in front of Vaggie and asked, “How exactly should I address her? Elder Cynthaeis, or just Elder? Or just Cynthaeis? Is she still considered an elder even though she’s retired? Should I say it as a sign of respect, or will that offend her? Would it be more offensive if I used her name?”
“Just use her name. She won’t care.”
“Should. . . should I call her mom? Can I do that?”
“No.”
“You’re right. That’s weird.” Charlie resumed pacing, still muttering to herself. She’d pestered Vaggie with questions about Cynthaeis—what she was like, if she was a hugger or a handshaker, whether eye contact would be considered disrespectful—but so far, Vaggie had been rather unforthcoming.
The more Charlie thought about it, the stranger it was that Vaggie had never mentioned her maker before. The most she’d admitted was that they weren’t close. Apparently none of the exorcists had ever had much contact with Cynthaeis, because she and Adam never got along. Charlie thought it was a good sign that Cynthaeis wasn’t an Adam fan, but Vaggie didn’t share her optimism.
Charlie paused in her pacing again and asked, “Are you sure it’s alright for me to establish a first-name basis? That feels presumptuous.”
“Charlie, this isn’t that big of a deal.”
“Not a big deal? Not a big deal?” Charlie lunged across the room and grabbed Vaggie’s face in both hands. Staring down at her with wild eyes, she cried, “I’m meeting your maker! Until a few hours ago, I didn’t know you had any parents for me to meet! You’ve met all of my relatives, but you’ve never even mentioned yours! Except the exorcists, I guess.”
“They don’t really count.”
“But Cynthaeis is your mom!”
“She’s my maker.”
“Same difference! ‘Not a big deal’—Vaggie, this is the biggest deal! She can fix your collaborator—”
“Corroborator.”
“Right, that thing. She’ll fix it, and then maybe. . .” Charlie trailed off, falling into her thoughts. An idea that had been lurking around the fringes of her mind, previously obscured by worry for Vaggie, now surfaced. Excitement bloomed and she said, “Maybe she’d be interested in hearing about the hotel? And maybe sponsoring us, or—or representing us in Heaven, or—”
“Charlie, stop,” Vaggie interrupted. She held out a hand, and Charlie anxiously took it. With careful restraint, Vaggie said, “You’re my girlfriend, and I get that you want my maker to like you, but the thing you have to understand. . . Cynthaeis doesn’t really like anyone.”
“So that’s where you get it from,” Angel Dust remarked from where he sat at the bar. Vaggie glared at him, but didn’t retort.
Giving Charlie’s hand a squeeze, she maintained, “Even by angel standards, she’s. . . difficult. Complicated. And she’s not exactly proud to be known as the maker of the exorcists. Plus, supporting the hotel means she’d have to come out of retirement, and I can’t see her willingly doing that. You haven’t met her, Charlie, you don’t. . .”
Vaggie opened and shut her mouth, searching for the right words but unable to find them. She gave Charlie a pleading look and said, “Just don’t get your hopes up. That’s all I’m trying to say.”
“Hey, it’ll be okay. She’ll listen. I know she will,” Charlie insisted, pecking a reassuring kiss to Vaggie’s forehead. Vaggie looked unconvinced, but didn’t push her case.
A few more minutes passed. Angel Dust and Husk chatted by the bar. Seeking an outlet for her energy, Charlie tried in vain to discuss workers’ rights with Niffty. Niffty was deaf to her efforts, insisting that as long as the roaches didn’t rest, neither would she.
A timer went off on Lucifer’s watch. He stared thoughtfully down at it until Charlie prompted his attention.
“Is it time to go to the Embassy?”
“Hm? Oh, yeah, I guess we should head out. She’ll meet us there.” Lucifer started to stand up, but suddenly froze. He cocked his head, as if listening for something, and said with a raised eyebrow, “Never mind.”
Charlie felt the change as soon as he said it. The air grew heavy, almost suffocating. The windows rattled and the lights flickered, and there was a tremendous jolt from an unseen force. Charlie’s stomach dropped like she was in a lurching elevator. Then, as quickly as it started, it stopped. The atmosphere stabilized as if nothing had happened.
A soft, silvery glow filled the parlor. In unison, Vaggie’s and Lucifer’s eyes fixed on something behind Charlie. She turned around, and across the room, standing in front of the hearth, was Cynthaeis.
Charlie couldn’t help gawking. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected—some family resemblance, maybe, but Cynthaeis looked about as much like Vaggie as KeeKee looked like Satan.
Cynthaeis was tall, taller than Angel Dust, more than double Vaggie’s height. She looked dragon-ish, with grey scales, a blunt snout, and ox-like horns. Four pupilless eyes glittered beneath a ridged brow. Lush silver plumage framed her face and covered her neck like a mane, melding with the feathers of her four large, shimmering wings. Layered white robes were draped around her body, secured with a woven belt; a skintight underlayer wrapped her forearms from the elbow-length bell sleeves to her wrists. Her hands were like spiders, her skeletal fingers disproportionately long, each nearly half a meter in length. Two snakelike, feather-tipped tails swept out from beneath her robes. Sharp, curved prongs jutted up at the front of her halo, mimicking her horns.
Then there was her demeanor. With that, too, Charlie hadn’t been sure what to expect, but she was taken aback by the sour curl in Cynthaeis’s mouth, the glare in her silver eyes, the unfriendly chill that hung about her. She looked around at the hotel like it was the very last place she wanted to be. The greeting Charlie had been practicing died on her lips when that frosty gaze raked over her.
The parlor was quiet as everyone held their breath. Lucifer was the one who finally broke the silence.
“Elder,” he said with uncharacteristic formality and a polite dip of his head.
“Seraphim,” Cynthaeis returned with the same tone. Her voice was gravelly and deep, edged with a subtle hiss. She sounded even colder than she looked.
She gave Lucifer an appraising look and stated, “You’ve aged.”
“I don’t suppose you’ve checked any mirrors lately,” Lucifer shot back without missing a beat.
Silence fell again. Cynthaeis stared down at him, her expression stony, unreadable. Finally, she asked, “What do you want of me, Lucifer?”
“We need your help.”
Cynthaeis scoffed.
“And here I was getting sentimental, thinking you wanted to rekindle our friendship.”
Lucifer chuckled and started to respond, but Vaggie sat up straight, making her presence known.
“Maker,” she said in a tone devoid of warmth. She neglected to give the polite nod Lucifer had offered.
Cynthaeis’s eyes narrowed, and her mouth thinned. The blatant dislike on her face took Charlie by surprise. It was even more alarming to see the same expression mirrored on Vaggie’s face.
“Offspring,” Cynthaeis replied. She grimaced as she forced the word out, like there was a rancid taste to it.
More silence. Everyone seemed to be waiting for one of the two of them to break it, but they were both firmly locked in their vicious staring match.
Charlie’s earlier excitement gave way to unease. Vaggie had warned her, of course, but Charlie hadn’t thought she really meant it. She assumed Vaggie was just being. . . Vaggie. But now, it occurred to her that Cynthaeis wasn’t just her girlfriend’s mom; she was the maker of all the exorcists, and thus partly responsible—if indirectly—for the exterminations.
Did she know about the slaughter before it was revealed to the rest of Heaven? Did she build an army knowing what it would be used for? What side did she take in the matter? Did she grieve the angels who were killed in the last battle? Was her hostility towards Vaggie a result of how she had turned against Heaven, or was there some other fraught history between them? Vaggie had never mentioned that she had anything resembling a parent before today. How much more had she kept to herself? The harder Charlie worked to puzzle it all out, the more questions arose, until it was taking all of her willpower to keep them in.
Unable to stand the tension, she put on her most winning smile and said, “It’s wonderful to meet you, Cyn—er, Elder Cynthaeis.”
She now understood what Vaggie meant by form of address not mattering. Somehow, she doubted Cynthaeis would’ve looked at her with any less disdain had she addressed her differently. Charlie tamped down the discomfort as best she could and went on, “My dad said he knew you before, and obviously you already know Vaggie. I’m Charlie. I’m—”
“Lucifer’s spawn. Yes, I guessed as much.”
“Right.” It suddenly became very difficult for Charlie to maintain her smile, but she refused to be deterred. “Thank you for coming. I mean it. We really need your help. First, though, I have to ask. . . I was told we would be meeting you in the Heaven Embassy, so why. . .”
Cynthaeis finally turned her icy gaze elsewhere. She looked around, taking in the scope of the parlor, and began a slow turn about the room. She wasn't beautiful, exactly, nor could she be called handsome, but there was an ethereal elegance in the way she moved.
“Given the current political climate, I was advised to keep this meeting streamlined. I thought it would be most efficient to come here directly, hear your demands, and leave. Simpler for all of us. Besides, I’ve never much liked the Embassy.”
She didn’t elaborate. As she moved away from the hearth, Charlie did a double take. She hadn’t realized a second angel was there, having been concealed behind Cynthaeis.
This angel was small, a few inches shorter than Vaggie, with a slim, androgynous figure. They wore a simple grey gown with a high neck, a floor-length skirt, and matching gloves, leaving only their ghostly pale face exposed. That face was strange but pretty—almost human, but angular and narrow, with round dewdrop eyes and a flat nose. Deer-like ears poked out between locks of iridescent purple curls, which grew from their forehead without a clear hairline. Their velvety purple wings were folded primly against their back.
Unlike Cynthaeis, this second angel didn’t display a hint of hostility. They displayed no emotion at all. They stood by the wall like a statue, gloved hands clasped in front of them, eyes downcast.
Charlie tore her eyes away from the smaller angel as Cynthaeis spoke again.
“I repaired you once already, just a few years ago. I was under the impression we’d reached an understanding—you would find no more help from me.”
Cynthaeis was turned away, inspecting a painting on the wall, so it took Charlie a second to realize she was talking to Vaggie.
“You think I planned to get my corroborator impaled? You think it was my idea to summon you?” Vaggie snapped. She shifted on her seat, and fresh pain lanced across her face, making her look even more miserable. Under her breath, she bitterly added, “You think I want to see you any more than you want to see me?”
Cynthaeis tilted her head, regarding her like some nasty bug that had died at her feet. Charlie couldn’t begin to guess where this vitriolic dislike had come from, but it was clearly mutual.
“Okay!” Charlie exclaimed with a halfhearted laugh. She stepped between them and approached Cynthaeis, fixing her face into a smile again. “I think we maybe got off on the wrong foot. Why don’t we all just take a breath and—”
Lucifer put a hand on her shoulder, quietly shook his head, and gestured toward the couch. Despite how desperately she wanted to help smooth things over, Charlie took the hint and went to sit by Vaggie. Lucifer, meanwhile, seated himself in an armchair and indicated an unoccupied sofa.
“Will you at least hear us out? Sit down. Please.” He took a deep breath, and when he spoke again, it was in a completely different language. “If not for your made, then for me. We were close once, Cynthaeis. Don’t you remember?”
Charlie startled at the flowing, resonant sound of the words. It was like a snatch of the loveliest music, yet at the same time alien and frightening. Charlie had never heard anything like it before, but somehow, a deep-rooted part of her brain understood it perfectly.
After a moment of loud silence, Cynthaeis responded in the same strange tongue, “I have not forgotten.” Her expression softened somewhat, and a hint of nostalgic sadness showed through the cracks.
She took a seat. Her robes flowed around her like liquid silk. With a twitch of her fingers, she beckoned the smaller angel over. Charlie could only assume they were a servant as they pulled a pair of long-stemmed goblets from an invisible pocket of air, filled them with pale, shimmering liquid from a bejeweled flagon, and handed them to Cynthaeis and Lucifer.
Lucifer accepted his goblet, but didn’t drink right away. He cleared his throat and threw a pointed glance at Charlie and Vaggie. The servant angel looked to Cynthaeis for instruction. Cynthaeis rolled her eyes and waved a hand, permitting them to pour two additional cups.
“Hello. Thank you,” Charlie said, trying for a smile as the angel silently handed her the drink. The angel briefly faltered, but the pause lasted just half a second before they turned away to give Vaggie her cup. They didn’t say a word, didn’t make eye contact with either of them. Charlie cleared her throat and said again, louder this time, “Thank you. This looks wonderful.”
The angel’s eyes briefly flicked to her face, but that was the closest to a response they gave. They moved to stand behind Cynthaeis, clasping their hands and resuming their earlier statue pose.
Noticing Charlie’s piqued curiosity, Cynthaeis presented a hand at the other angel and stated, “My attendant, Jasper. I’ve instructed them not to engage with you.”
Charlie started to ask why, but Vaggie grabbed her wrist and shook her head. Her expression clearly said, “Drop it.”
Charlie wanted to ask how close an attendant was to a slave, but she forced herself to keep her mouth shut. Debating Heavenly politics with an old, antagonistic angel would only hurt Vaggie’s chances of getting a new corroborator. The fact that Cynthaeis had consented to sit and share a drink was progress; they couldn’t risk undoing it.
Besides, Lucifer seemed to have an angle prepared. He stared down at the goblet for a moment, then, like he was afraid to do it, took a sip. He leaned his head back against the couch, shut his eyes, and gave an airy chuckle.
“Elechor. Never thought I’d drink this stuff again.”
When he opened his eyes, they were wet. It occurred to Charlie that this might not be entirely an act.
“From my personal supply. I brewed it myself,” Cynthaeis said offhandedly. “Retirement isn’t what I would call stimulating, but it does grant one time to explore a variety of hobbies. I’ve become especially proficient at needlepoint.”
“To the joys of retirement, then. Wish I could join you,” Lucifer replied, raising his cup.
Cynthaeis lifted an eyebrow, but her frown softened and her stiff posture eased. She obligingly raised her own goblet, if only a little. Lucifer gave a subtle gesture to Vaggie and Charlie, and they awkwardly joined the toast.
Charlie hesitated to drink the elechor. Keeping her fingers crossed that a mystery angel drink wouldn’t vaporize her, she shut her eyes and took a sip. Her mouth slackened, and she almost spilled a few drops over her chin. It was smooth and sweet, heady but not overly strong—it was like nothing she’d ever tasted before. It buzzed on her tongue, in her mouth, like magic had been brewed into every molecule. It was—for lack of a better word—divine. Glancing over, she saw that it had a similar effect on Vaggie, whose eye was glazed with bliss. It took conscious effort for Charlie to limit herself to one swallow.
Once the four of them had each taken a drink, Lucifer beckoned over Husk, Angel Dust, and Niffty. Cynthaeis’s grouchy scowl returned as they approached, but she didn’t tell them off.
“I guess we should make official introductions,” Lucifer said. He nodded to Charlie and prompted, “You wanna do the honors?”
“Yes!” Charlie exclaimed. She set her goblet aside and sat up straight, eager to proceed. “Cyn—er, Elder, welcome to the Hazbin Hotel, the first of its kind! This is Husk, our bartender; that’s Niffty, our housekeeper; Angel Dust is our guest—our only guest, currently, but that obviously won’t be the case forever; and Alastor’s our host. He’s around here somewhere, I’m sure.”
“Charmed.” The way she said it, Cynthaeis might as well have started dropping slurs.
Lucifer in turn gestured a hand towards Cynthaeis and said, “Hotel residents whose names I definitely have memorized, this is Elder Cynthaeis. She is—or was, back in the day—the head of Heaven’s bioengineering department. She helped with the Eden project, among other things. The two of us worked together for a long time. She was my boss.”
“No need to be modest, Lucifer. I wasn’t employing you—I was grooming the [then] youngest seraphim for a position of leadership. I was to teach you everything I knew, so when your power matured and your abilities inevitably surpassed mine, you would be able to take my place.”
“You never told me that,” Lucifer said, affronted.
“And you never ended up succeeding me. You would have, if you hadn’t gotten yourself banned from all creational activities.”
Lucifer scowled and slouched in his seat.
“I still think that was too harsh. Sera wouldn’t even hear my side of it. It was one little mistake!”
“Leaving the cages unlocked in the carnivore lab was a mistake. You threw a ten-kilometer asteroid directly at a planet selected to bear intelligent life.”
“Wait a fucking—are you saying you killed the dinosaurs?” Angel Dust exclaimed, staring at Lucifer in disbelief.
Looking less than thrilled to suddenly be the center of attention, Lucifer protested, “It was an accident! We were just having fun, chucking asteroids around, and. . . my aim was off.”
“Because you were drunk,” Cynthaeis added.
“So was Gabriel, and he barely got a slap on the wrist!”
“Gabriel didn’t wipe out 75% of prototypical life on Earth,” Cynthaeis reminded him. She almost looked like she was fighting a smile.
It was strange—not only seeing Cynthaeis warm so quickly, but seeing this new side of Lucifer. Normally, there was an air of weariness around him even when he was perfectly content, but that was gone now. Reminiscing had brought out a unique joy in him, one that made him look and sound years younger.
With the tension dissipated, Charlie bravely spoke up, eager to get back on track.
“Whatever mistakes my dad made in the past, he’s more than made up for them. He’s been helping me with the hotel! I know it’s not much right now, but this is a dream I’ve had for a long time, and everyone here is helping me to see it through. I still believe it can work. I know things aren’t great with Heaven right now, but I really feel like, in a roundabout way, we’ve made some progress. . . right?”
Cynthaeis’s eyes narrowed. Her halo pulsed and her feathers flared. The hint of goodwill Lucifer had managed to draw out evaporated.
“That’s an interesting interpretation of recent events.”
Charlie gulped. They were steadily veering towards the elephant in the room: the dozens of exorcists killed in battle. Charlie couldn’t tell how Cynthaeis felt about it, and the closer they drifted to the subject, the more afraid she was that she might discover those feelings the hard way.
Hiding her panic as best she could, she maintained, “Look, I know it was horrible, but now everyone in Heaven knows the truth. We fought to defend ourselves. Vaggie fought to defend us—to defend me—because she believes in the hotel, too. We—”
“Adam’s dead,” Vaggie interrupted.
Cynthaeis’s face didn’t change, but her feathers relaxed and her halo dimmed. She regarded Vaggie with slightly less antipathy.
“So I heard.”
“You’ve got to be happy about that, at least.”
“I did find the news of his death rather uplifting.”
The ice began to thaw. Cynthaeis almost looked content as she gazed pensively down into her goblet of elechor.
Charlie couldn’t begin to speculate what Cynthaeis’s beef with Adam was, no more than she could puzzle out the resentment between her and Vaggie, but hating him seemed to be the one thing they could agree upon.
Niffty, who sat perched on the back of the couch, swinging her legs, said with a wicked giggle, “I killed the golden bad boy. Charlie told me to stab, so I did.”
“Brava,” Cynthaeis commended, sounding shockingly upbeat. Once again, she almost smiled. She hid it behind a sip of elechor and muttered, “Pity no one attempted it sooner.”
“No kidding. That guy was dick,” Angel Dust chimed in, sliding into a nearby armchair. He, too, seemed encouraged by Cynthaeis’s improved mood. “You know the last thing he said, right after getting his ass handed to him? He said we ought to be worshipping his nuts, called us losers, and then he just fucking. . . keeled over. And that was it!”
“Mm.” Cynthaeis was gazing into the middle distance, stroking the rim of her goblet with one long finger, like she was imagining the scene. The corners of her mouth quirked upwards in the barest hint of a smile. Charlie just barely stopped herself from cheering.
If this was as negotiable a mood as Cynthaeis was going to be in, it was now or never. Charlie drew a deep breath and took her shot.
“He almost won, you know. We wouldn’t all be here today if Vaggie hadn’t fought with us. She’s so strong—she’s one of the strongest people I know, and. . . we need her.” Charlie put a hand on Vaggie’s shoulder and said, “I need her. Please, Cynthaeis, can you help us?”
Cynthaeis’s near-smile was gone. She scrutinized Charlie for a long time, weighing her plea. Charlie waited with bated breath, hoping, praying that she’d gotten through to her.
At last, Cynthaeis gave her answer.
“No.”
“No?” Charlie echoed. She felt faint; the word didn’t quite register in her head.
“No,” Cynthaeis repeated. She looked around at their collective shocked faces, waiting for someone else to speak, but no one did. She snapped her fingers to erase the elechor goblets and pushed herself to her feet. “Well, if that’s all you summoned me for—"
“What do you mean, no?” Vaggie demanded. Charlie squeezed her hand to try and calm her down, but Vaggie paid no attention.
Cynthaeis’s cruel glare returned. The ice had frozen over again.
“Vaggie obviously hasn’t shared with you the history of the exorcists. You would do well to educate yourself, Princess,” she said dryly.
Before Charlie could ask what she meant by that, Cynthaeis went on, her voice growing harsh, “You have no idea what you’re asking of me. If you did, you would not do so lightly. If you think—”
“You don’t get to talk to her like that!” Vaggie yelled, shooting to her feet. She gasped and clutched her ribs as the sudden movement caused fresh pain. Charlie grabbed her arm and tried to pull her back down, but Vaggie refused to budge. Glaring up at her maker, she snapped, “Cut the shit. Can you make me a new corroborator or not?”
“No.”
Vaggie lifted her arms and dropped them back down to her sides with finality. Her entire body shook with visible rage.
“Fantastic. Thanks for nothing, once a-fucking-gain.”
“Ad nauseam,” Cynthaeis growled.
“Wait, no, that’s not—Vaggie, hang on—” Charlie started, but Cynthaeis cut her off.
“I can see when I’m no longer welcome. I’d best be on my way.”
“Yeah, best. Thanks for wasting my time. Better not waste any more of yours,” Vaggie agreed.
Charlie leapt off the couch, crying “No!” but it was too late. The air thickened, the lights flickered, and just as abruptly as they had arrived, Cynthaeis and Jasper were gone. Silence reigned for several long seconds until Angel Dust broke it.
“Wow. Your maker’s a dick.”
Vaggie stood in place, seething, staring at the spot where Cynthaeis had just been. Then, all at once, her anger drained away. She shut her eye and plunked back down on the couch.
Unwilling to accept that it was over, Charlie turned to Lucifer, who was also staring at the vacated spot, and demanded, “Call her back, now! We can’t just let her go! She has to heal Vaggie! Please, dad, we have to—”
“Charlie, stop.”
“No, Vaggie, you’re hurt! You can’t honestly—”
“Charlie.” Vaggie straightened, gingerly rubbing her injury site, and said after a beat of hesitation, “I can live without it.”
“But—”
“I’ll be okay without a corroborator. I might be. . . limited, in some ways, but it’s not a death sentence.”
“So that’s it, then?” Husk said, watching her with disbelief. “You’re just gonna chug along on fumes forever?”
“That’s the plan,” Vaggie stated. She hauled herself to her feet and headed for the stairs.
Charlie rushed to her side to help her, but Vaggie brushed her off. A pang of hurt struck Charlie’s heart. It must’ve showed on her face, because Vaggie drew herself up taller, forced a smile, and assured her, “I’m feeling better already, hon. Honest. I just need to rest for a bit.”
“But Vaggie. . .” Sensing that the train had long left the station, Charlie’s shoulders slumped in resignation. “Okay. You want me to—”
“No!” Vaggie said a little too quickly. “I mean. . . no, that’s okay. I’ll be okay. I, uh. . . I’m pretty sure I can get upstairs by myself. I just need to rest.”
“What about that arrangement?” Lucifer interjected, catching everyone off-guard. “Carmilla mentioned you guys came to an agreement. What was it?”
Vaggie started to answer, but Charlie grabbed her shoulders and steered her to the stairs.
“We don’t have to talk about that now. There’ll be plenty of time later. Vaggie needs to rest, so. . . she’s going to rest.”
Vaggie looked like she wanted to argue, but she didn’t. She turned away and limped up the stairs, leaving the others to stew on everything they’d just witnessed.