Chapter Text
So…
You want me to hand over
possible audio I may or may not
have from Angel Dust’s phone,
so you can overhear the
conversation he had with a
date that may or may not
have kidnapped him, that
may or may not lead anywhere.
Did I get that right?
We’re solving a mystery
here… that you enlisted
our help on… Not
extremely clear what you
want me to do then...
Baxter could explain all the shit he wanted to, but he couldn’t understand it for Vox. If there was an easy way to do this, to cut off like, twelve steps of the whole process, he would, but until then, he was texting his boss while a mafioso on one side of him cleaned his gun and a housewife on the other rummaged through her pockets.
”I didn’t even know this skirt had pockets!” She exclaimed, though to be pulling out the things she was, Baxter thought she must’ve at one point or another in her ownership of it. “I’m finding so many things!”
Arackniss looked up at her, and then back down at his hands—one pair was tending to the same pistol Baxter had felt snapping across his face a few hours ago, and the other was rapidly texting somebody on his cell phone—he somehow embodied both a severe, emotionless made man, and an angsty, anti-social teenager at the same time. Apparently, though, he didn’t want to deal with Niffty.
He didn’t necessarily blame him, because she was a lot—but she had yet to pistol-whip him, so she was still better. He was still waiting for her to, say, pull out a chainsaw from her pocket and slaughter everybody in her path, but she seemed to be putting whatever homicidal tendencies she surely had on the back burner for now, in favor of getting this done. Angel must have been a friend of her’s.
It was crazy that people could have friends down here, but—well, Mimzy had had Crymini working at her club since she fell down, and she spoke with Alastor on a weekly basis. And Niffty spoke to her like they had lived three past lives together, though whether that spoke more to their relationship, or Niffty’s seemingly friendly-to-everyone-chatterbox-y nature, he wasn’t sure.
Baxter had had a friend like that once. Maybe more.
Last time he saw him, he was on television, and his hat was on fire. Some things never changed.
Niffty pulled a granola bar out of her pocket and checked the expiration date, chewing her bottom lip. “Doll,” Arackniss said, though he didn’t seem to be looking at her, head still bowed over his gun. “If you eat that expired protein bar and you get sick, I’m gonna leave you here to crawl your way back to the hotel.”
Niffty glanced in his direction, but didn’t seem too intimidated by whatever authority Arackniss seemed to think he had—maybe it was just the I-have-a-gun-type of authority, and it didn’t work on Niffty because she was either too strong to fear pain, or too stupid. “It says ‘granola’ on it, not protein, actually.” She lifted the edge of the wrapper a little. “And it’s got another week before it’s expired—plus, expiration dates aren’t even that accurate, the best way to tell if food’s expired is if it tastes or looks different, granola doesn’t usually got a short shelf life.” She slid it back into her pocket and pulled out her phone.
Baxter’s phone buzzed again. No message, no words—just a sent audio clip. “I’ve got it,” he said. A pair of Arackniss’ eyes darted over to him. “The audio,” he said. “Vox sent it.”
Niffty beamed at him, as if this was a stroke of brilliance and not just using one of the few resources they had. “That’s great, Baxter!”
Arackniss held out his hand, and despite the fact he didn’t want to hand over his phone, he really didn’t want to get pistol-whipped across the face for not complying, so he held his tongue and handed it over.
He tapped something and then hesitated—Baxter didn’t think anything of it, but Niffty seemed to notice. “What is it?”
”I just realized that this is audio,” he said. “…Of my brother’s date.” Baxter squinted at him. “…My very promiscuous brother… who has no filter. On his date.”
Niffty winced. “…Okay, yeah, I kinda get that—I wouldn’t want to hear my sister talk about sex, either!” She hesitated. “…I don’t really worry about that, because she died before she even hit puberty, and she’s not down here, but I mean—the point stands! Sibling sex is bad!”
He dragged two of his hands down his face. It'd been a long day, and the end was nowhere in sight. “Dio… let’s just get this fuckin’ over with.”
Vaggie was pinching the bridge of her nose, standing up by the landline and listening to the phone ringing while she waited. If they were lucky, she could ask for Alastor, get Alastor, and he’d just come to the hotel and help them figure out what the fuck was happening. If they were slightly less lucky, Alastor would fuck with them.
She was being too optimistic—her girlfriend had rubbed off on her.
At long last, a woman with a Brooklyn (but much more understandable than one like Miele’s, thank God) accent picked up. “Hello?”
”Hello, hi—I’m Vaggie, the manager of the Happy… Hazbin? Um… it’s a hotel—“
”Oh, that’s funny,” the woman said. “Niffty just mentioned you.”
Vaggie paused. “…She did?”
”Yes—and an employee over here was explainin’ why your frail’s nickname for you was so damn funny. I think it helps with your name.” Vaggie groaned. “Anyways—what can I do you for?”
”You said Niffty was there.” She cleared her throat. “By any chance, is… her and Alastor together?”
”Together?” The woman laughed for like, five whole seconds at her. Not an excruciatingly long time, but too long for the joke. “Alastor ain’t the type to date, sweetheart. And definitely not gals like Niffty—she’s… an acquired taste. Only dame that ever caught his eye was when that Velvet woman nearly took one out when she came to help a friend in a fight with him.”
This was tons of background Vaggie would love to hear about to see what her girlfriend had gotten herself into—but at any point in time other than now. She opened her mouth to speak and the woman kept going, “Though he does love himself that Josephine Baker—and I mean, loves her. Probably ‘bout just as much as Niffty loves Marilyn Monroe, and she loves Marilyn Monroe. Though, owning her soul’s probably also put him off—Niffty, I mean. Not Josephine Baker, or Marilyn Monroe, he don’t own their souls.”
”I meant, are they in the same place?” She was tempted to bash her head into the wall in her frustration. “Or maybe Husk?”
”Oh! No. They’re not. Dunno where they are. Why?”
”Uhhhh…” She glanced just in time to see her girlfriend on standby with her hopeful little eyes.
The woman hummed. “The youth are so eloquent these days—cat gotcha tongue?”
Vaggie sighed. “Is Niffty still there?”
There was a brief pause before the woman asked, “Why we so interested in what Niffty’s doing? Who’d you say you were again?”
”Vaggie—from the hotel. We work together—is she still there? Can you please get her on the line?”
The woman made a non-commital hum, and moved the phone away from her mouth to shout, “Hey, Niffty! A gal on the phone really wants to talk to you!” A beat. “Give her a sec’, she’s in the middle of somethin’.” Vaggie groaned. “You in that big of a rush? I can tell her it’s Marilyn Monroe—she’ll be disappointed when she ain’t on the phone, but she’ll come.”
Vaggie pinched the bridge of her nose. “What is she doing?”
”Solvin’ a kidnapping or somethin’—I dunno.” Vaggie’s blood ran cold. “Apparently the guy was on a date here last night—”
”Wait!” Vaggie cut her off. “A kidnapping?”
The woman somehow did not grasp the urgency in her voice. Charlie had moved closer to her, her hand finding her forearm like she was steadying herself. “Yeah—a friend of her’s, I guess.”
”What’s happening?” Charlie asked.
Vaggie put her hand over the receiver. “Don’t panic.”
”I’m not panicking.”
”Just…” She swallowed. “Don’t panic, okay?” Charlie nodded her head. “…Angel… might have been kidnapped?”
Charlie began to panic.
Mimzy’s voice carried well, even from back here. Arackniss attempted to tune her out, and focus on the audio—he didn’t care if Angel started giving him a play-by-play of his latest sexcapades, he was getting through this if it was the last thing he ever fucking did down here.
Angel’s tone was dry and almost cutting, a far cry from his usual tone. ”Been a while since I’ve gone on a date like this without bein’ paid for it.”
The other man, his date, laughed. It was a relatively normal-sounding laugh, for a possible-kidnapper. Arackniss was still waiting for him to start talking about something like, gutting his ex in a warehouse up top or something and indicate that he was actually crazy. “Didn’t budget for that in the bill tonight.”
”Now ya tell me!”
Niffty perked up. “He sounds cute,” she said. “You think maybe his date just went really well, and he made up an excuse for not coming back to the hotel?” Arackniss turned to her and tried to quell the urge to snap her neck like a dry twig. “Maybe the date went really well. Maybe they eloped.”
If Niffty was any fucking stupider, he’d start losing brain cells around her. “You don’t shut up and let me listen to this fuckin’ thing, I’m gonna drop you into a trash can on my way out and wait for the rats to eat you.”
Niffty blinked. “Um, I think I’d eat the rats before they ate me, but okay. Point made.”
”—not sure if I’ve ever actually been to one of these old speakeasies before,” Angel’s date said.
“You young down here?”
The date laughed again. “Not really, no—uh… ‘52. And you?”
Angel clicked his tongue. “‘47—really robbin’ the cradle here, huh? Just old were ya when ya died again?”
”Twenty-two.” Angel made a small, thoughtful noise. “And I drank like how twenty-one-year-olds today drink—let me tell you, it’s a good thing I never found any speakeasies like this, my wife never would’a found me.” A beat, and he cleared his throat. “Sorry, that’s probably a… lot to drop on the first date. ‘Hello, here’s my name, my age, my zodiac sign, and my past crippling addiction.’”
”And we got our exes mentioned,” Angel said. “Like a bingo card—really fillin’ it out.” He chuckled—a glass was set down with a small little thunk, it’s ice clicking against the glass. “Eh, we all got our vices—you’ll never guess what mine used to be.”
A pause. Angel’s date sipped at something. Angel waited. “Uh… meth?”
“…What?”
”Marijuana? Um, speed?” A moment passed. “Those are all the drugs I know.”
”Whaddya mean those are all the drugs ya know? I’m talkin’ ‘bout angel dust.” He received no reaction. “…’Cause I’m… him. Y’know, the porn star?”
”Ohhhhh,” he said, in a lame attempt to sound like he was genuinely surprised. “Whoa, really?”
Angel had apparently never been in this situation before. “Y-Yeah?”
The man awkwardly cleared his throat—this was actually painful to listen to. “Should I ask for an autograph, or…?”
Angel groaned. “Ugh, forget it—go back to talkin’ ‘bout your ex.”
The man’s voice took on a more dreamy-like tone. “She was pretty great—we couldn’t officially marry, ‘cause I was white, and she was Japanese, or… half-Japanese, or something, but that woman was my wife.”
Angel hesitated. “…I don’t wanna be a dick or nothin’, but… are ya sure you’re into men? I mean, I ain’t got anythin’ against the bisexuals, or pans, or anything, but ya really ain’t soundin’ like you’re into anythin’ other than women. Or, uh, your wife.” It went dead fucking silent. “That’s cool and all, but I want ya to know, I’m a guy under this skirt. And I ain’t Japanese, either, so if I ain’t your type, say it now, it’s cool.”
”Uh…” The man coughed again. “…No, I mean… I’m on a date with you here…”
”Uh-huh.” Nothing. “Welp.” Chair legs scraped over the floor and heels clicked against the floor. “This was great, baby, but uh… I only went on this date ‘cause a… friend thought a boyfriend would keep me from slutting it up so much—I didn’t think it’d work for me, and I ain’t really into blind dates anyway, but if ya don’t want me here, either, I’ll take my leave so ya can have some alone time with your hand there.”
The man jumped to his feet. “No, wait, don’t go! I-I’m having a good time with you!”
”Uh, I really doubt that.” Angel must’ve grabbed his phone, because his voice grew louder, closer. “Sorry, baby, ya seem like a great guy—“
”I’ll pay.” Angel stopped. “C-C’mon. We can uhhh… get a m-motel room?”
”…It’s a grand an hour.”
”A GRAND?” A beat. “…Shit, sorry. I-I mean, alright—sure.” Angel sighed. “Just an hour?”
“Yeah, no. Sorry, sweetheart—I ain’t in the mood to give a sloppy blowjob in a shitty motel room, or get stabbed by a twitchy weirdo pinin’ over their ex, okay?” His heels clicked against the wood. Arackniss thought, there was a chance this man really had nothing to do with Angel's disappearance, and his determination to track him down would be a waste of time. Time wasn't on their side here.
The man’s voice began to grow irate. “C’mon, I’m paying. I can spare a grand on you.”
Angel scoffed. “Please—the Pentagram’s full of people that want me. I got my pick of just ’bout anybody in this city, I can live without one man not grovelin’ to drink my bath water.”
”A-Angel,” the man said. “…I don’t wanna offend you—but, uh… I get the feeling there’s a reason I didn’t know your name.” Angel scoffed again. “…You don’t think your glory days aren’t over yet?”
”Excuse you, I’m hotter than fuckin’ fire down here!" Arackniss knew when his brother was offended--he got real aggressive. He could hear the bitterness in his voice, and a part of him recalled, all too well, the same tone being used when he was kicked out of the family home, right before he died. I never liked this family anyway, he had said, and Arackniss still wondered if that was a man desperately trying to save face, or his brother trying to convince himself in his own stubbornness he was better off, or if there had always been a grain of truth to it. Arackniss knew, you didn't choose the circumstance you were born into--but Angel's insistence didn't pause for his own thoughts. "I outshine the sun with my days in the spotlight, I’ve just been… busy is all.” A beat. Angel hissed a muffled swear.
”Maybe, maybe!” The man cleared his throat. “…Uh, I guess you’re right.” Another chair leg scraped against the floor. “Sorry for wasting your time, then, Mister Dust.”
”It’s Acci—fuck, forget it. Forget it. Try and keep those dreams of me under control, okay, Michael, I got… better things to do.” Sounding more than a little dejected, Angel walked away, his grumbling too far under his breath to be picked up by the phone.
The audio went dead. Arackniss tried to make of this whole thing what he would.
”Huh!” Said the half-Japanese housewife from 1952 that used to have an alcoholic husband right next to him, snapping him back completely to the reality of the situation, whole and unbiased, if a little desperate. “That’s funny—my husband’s name was Michael!”
They didn’t take my phone.
i thought they just missed
it, but I think they left it
on purpose.
Niss, they rn’t even
threatening me rn. Nthng.
Am I being held ransom?
Feel like this is what
happens when ur bein
held ransom.
Every text message got an aggravated, red exclamation point on it’s left—his texts weren’t sending. The calls tended to work, but he guessed his connection was too shoddy to send texts.
Angel tried again, resending them and watching the little bar at the top under his brother’s name inch across the screen, stop at half-way, and not send again. At this point, he thought he would’ve preferred to see Valentino’s stupid fucking face, if it only meant he got some answers. He would immediately regret wishing that if and when Valentino did show up, but he was telling himself he would be okay. He usually got braver before dealing with Valentino. Not so brave in the face of consequences.
On occasion, Angel wondered if this--all of Hell--was just one long form of the consequences he had escaped back in life. That everything was just a long-time coming, and everything was some sort of handpicked punishment just for him. But he didn't like thinking about it--in Hell's chaos, it was hard to believe anybody had control, and not enough control to punish you specifically. Plus, the ecosystem was... complicated. If Hell struck down someone, it'd always end up benefiting somebody else in some way, and what part of punishment fell into that? No, no. Hell had no nature, no intent, no rules.
He slid his phone back into his pocket in an attempt to conserve the battery. Everything hurt, he was bored out of his mind, he had no idea what was happening or why he was here—but if Arackniss called to update him on something, he’d need to answer. Maybe it’d prevent him from going insane.
He felt like he was already there.
Baxter had this amazing ability to know when something was going to go wrong, a little smoke-alarm thing inside him that identified tons of things except for smoke (he didn't notice that until his eyes were watering and he couldn't breathe).
Sometimes, it screamed at inopportune times, sometimes it was wrong—but when it was right, it knew long before it went down.
He barely knew anything of Niffty, just that she was there and something she said sent alarms, or maybe it was how Arackniss looked at her. Silence claimed them as a group—Arackniss just stared at Niffty, who either didn’t notice or didn’t care.
Outside, Mimzy called again, “Niffty—these two gals on the telephone are workin’ themselves into a frenzy over you. When did you get so many friends?”
Niffty hopped up like she had forgotten where she was and immediately went over to the phone. Arackniss watched her go, and Baxter tried to read his expression, but got nowhere. He tried to think rationally about it—and now he thought, maybe Arackniss’ expression hadn’t changed, but his body had grown taut, and his gaze more intense. Shit, Baxter thought. He really is going to kill her. I’m going to be a witness to a murder down here. That wasn’t super rare for Hell, but like, it wasn’t pleasant. He didn’t know enough about Niffty to confidently say she had it coming, either, especially since Arackniss was maybe a thousand times more unpleasant.
”I think I’m missing something,” Baxter said, which was the general feeling of the day.
”That man? Michael?” Arackniss was still watching Niffty, on the phone, bouncing in place with her hand on the phone, and the other twirling the cord around her finger, prattling on a mile a minute to whoever was listening on the other end, as he had gotten familiar with, when it came to her. “That really was her husband.”
Baxter turned to him baffled. “We know that from his name? Has Michael become such a rare and uncommon name that we can single them out this easily?”
Arackniss pursed his lips. “How many Michaels you willin’ to bet live in the Pentagram, died in the fifties, half-married half-Japanese broads, and hit the hooch too hard at twenty-two?” Baxter blinked slowly at him, like he would start making sense. He did no such thing.
”Probably plenty?" Arackniss rolled his eyes, but it didn't dissuade Baxter any. “And… how do you know all that about her? That doesn’t even have to do with her afterlife, that’s all before. How close are you two?” A beat and he furrowed his brow. “So, maybe the two of you aren’t currently together, but—“
”Christ, I’ve heard broken records that got more variety than you,” Arackniss spat. “You ever say anythin’ different? No, I ain’t dating her—and no, my brother ain’t dead, before you say that.” A beat and he turned closer to Baxter. “Actually, I’ve been going steady with somebody else entirely, and I think you know him.”
His heart skipped a beat—Arackniss had this flat way of saying stuff—like, nothing could really faze him but he knew what he was saying could faze you, and like he really wanted it to. “I… I do?”
”Yeah,” Arackniss said. “‘Cause, y’see, he’s told me plenty ‘bout that old partner of his.” Oh, shit. Pentious was dating mafiosos now? “Called you every name in the book, told me all ‘bout this bastard of an ex of his and how he ran off into the night with their shared work, never to be seen again.” A beat. “You got any idea what he’d do to you, you and him were alone? Pent knows how to hold a grudge, pesce.”
Oh shit.
Oh shit. Maybe he spoke too soon on being the witness to a murder.
Nervously, Baxter pushed the glasses on his face up and cleared his throat. “Believe me, he had those grudges long before I left him.” Arackniss didn’t outwardly emote. “…And here I thought the mafia had no room for queers.”
Arackniss shrugged. “Queers, fruits—we’re all dirty Sinners down here. Plus, they don’t get much fruitier than Pent. The Acciais’ve been workin’ with him since the sixties.”
”So I know where to send my condolences.” Arackniss was not amused. Baxter began to wonder what sort of type Pentious had, because he was certainly finding a few reoccurring features in his choice of partners. “But, you’re not the same type of partner as I was, right?”
”I’m a thousand times more of a partner than you were to him.”
A beat, Baxter mulled it over and said, “I’m okay with that. Do what you want with him. I’m… completely over a man who has more eyes than IQ points, and more of a body than you can fit under a blanket, and… hands steady enough to defuse bombs… and make mustard gas we always end up accidentally inhaling, so… we can wonder why we were doing that again when our insides start melting…” Arackniss raised an eyebrow, and Baxter snapped out of it, like he hadn’t been nearly swooning. That was not Pentious' doing, he just... really loved his sciences. Yeah. “I’m over him! There’s a reason his form is that of a snake, I’ll have you know!” He cleared his throat. “But I know a man of science when I see one, and you’re even less of one than he is.”
Arackniss didn’t falter. “I’m not here to interrogate you over your ex—ain’t got any interest in anything in Pent’s past he doesn’t wanna share with me.” Baxter assumed that meant Pentious hadn’t shared much about him—but he didn’t know what, and he didn’t care so long as it wasn’t… that.
That was something he told no one. The only reason Pentious had known about it was because he had to be there for it.
”You maybe shut up, keep focused on this, and stay outta my way, and I won’t hang you upside down in a meat freezer, so I can teach Pent how to gut a fish—capiche?”
This sounded like one of those things that wasn’t actually a discussion, and that his understanding of held no weight to—Damnit. Arackniss’ eyes didn’t leave him until he nodded his head in agreement, and Arackniss turned back to Niffty.
By now, Baxter had come to the conclusion his tenure was probably not worth this, and he was more than a little disturbed by the lengths he was going to for some health insurance. Maybe next time he’d just try to sleep with his boss? Vox was unpleasant, but he had nothing on Baxter’s boss before that, so he couldn’t be that bad, right?
Considering this was him, he’d last exactly three seconds before the feeling of physical touch would drive him away and he’d give up, and like, what did you do when you turned your boss down, after you made the first move in seducing them? Like, if somebody came onto Baxter and then backed off the moment he started to bite because they didn’t want to be touched, he’d be pretty pissed. Like, he wouldn’t really want to be around them. How did that work for bosses? Would he lose his job? No health insurance for him? Get demoted? What other careers could Baxter try and find down here? Nobody appreciated the sciences enough. Christ, he woukdn’t last a day in retail, the customers down here were a different breed. What then?
This is it, he thought, with growing horror as he made peace with his bleak future. He might as well resign himself to an afterlife in Hell—he had known it was gonna get worse eventually! I have to turn to prostitution. How else am I gonna get rent? I’ll get murdered. I’ll get myself killed. Or worse, I’ll have to do my job—
Nope. He was not going down that rabbit hole again—every time he thought about the possibility of losing his job and income, and needing to start over, why did he always jump to prostitution? He always assumed it’d be the end of the world. At least, his world.
Down here, the world never turned and spun. Sometimes, time didn’t seem to move, even when the demons got younger, newer, fresher, more modern—so, he figured, things would always stay in this semi-awful, unchanging state. No death, but no life either. Dim days and blearily bright nights. People you were always distant with, even when you were surrounded with them.
…No. Not this time. How many new jobs could he get? This was the one, it was the best one he could get—and damnit, he was gonna get that fucking tenure!
Vaggie sounded awfully tense.
Granted, Vaggie always seemed to be wound up one way or another. Sometimes, it seemed to be because Alastor or Angel were trying to work her up, but more than that, Niffty thought it was because she was new, and she didn’t blame her. Niffty remembered, that first decade was the hardest. You still clung to memories of blue skies, and the total lack of turf wars, and when murderers were brought to justice (hopefully). Down here, it was dog eat dog, and you were torn between not wanting to eat dog or be eaten, and that wasn’t exactly an option. How did you balance your morality with your will to survive? How did you define your own humanity when it was stolen from you upon your death? Did you ever truly stop being human?
Poor Vaggie, Niffty thought.
”Niffty, I need you to focus right now,” Vaggie said, snapping her out of her thoughts. “Start from the beginning. What’s happening? Where’s Angel?”
Niffty sighed. “Gee, I wish I knew, that’d make this easier.”
”Make what easier, Niffty?” One of the drawbacks of the modern women like Vaggie, Niffty thought, was they seemed a little impatient. Niffty didn’t hold it against her though.
She started from the beginning, like Vaggie had asked. “Okay, so this morning, at the hotel, I was cleaning, and Arackniss came over ‘cause he was trying to see Angel, but he wasn’t there, so he called him—Angel called Arackniss, I mean—and I guess he never came back from his date last night. I guess somebody kidnapped him?” Vaggie gave this little sharp inhale, not quite a shocked gasp, but something very displeased. “And he told Arackniss—“ Arackniss was standing at her side now. “Hi, Arackniss!”
”You’re with him?” Vaggie asked.
Beside her, Arackniss asked, “You think we can step outside for a sec’, doll? Need’a talk to you ‘bout something.”
”Huh? Yeah, sure! Just a sec’.” She turned back to the phone. “He told Arackniss about it, and I think we’re trying to keep too many people from hearing about it, because it’s Angel, y’know, and this is Hell—and I came with, we went to where Angel had his date last night, Mimzy’s club, you know the one, right? I don’t think you’ve met her, but I know she’s been mentioned before, and her club, she’s lovely, I bake cookies with her sometimes! Anyway, Angel was here last night, and—“
Arackniss took the phone from her hand and put it back in it’s place on the wall before grabbing her by the crook of her arm and dragging her to the door they entered through.
When he let go of her, the toe of her shoe caught on a crack in the sidewalk and she stumbled, and barely caught herself on the wall. “Ow!” The door opened after them, as Baxter reluctantly followed them out—actually, a little more reluctant than usual. Not just like he didn’t want to be associated with the two of them, but like he didn’t even want to know them, like he was being forced to do this—okay, never mind that was it. The tenure. Right.
”That was rude,” she said to Arackniss, like scolding him on his manners might achieve something. “I was in the middle of a conversation! Vaggie and Charlie are probably so worried, you know they’re completely out of the loop here, right—“
Arackniss raised his hand up, a sign he wanted her to stop, and she did. She remembered, he wanted to talk to her. This must’ve been important! “That man Angel was with,” he started. “You said he’s got the same name as your husband?”
”Yeah.” Niffty didn’t think about her husband—in public, at least. It usually made her feel guilty. “I guess it was a pretty common name, though. Like, I had a neighbor and her husband was also named Michael. He was also white—she was nice, I wish I returned her Pyrex before I died.”
Baxter asked, "What's a 'pyrex?'"
"Some baking dish," Arackniss said. He opened his mouth to continue with his line of questioning before Niffty chimed in, "It's amazing. It's supposed to be able to go from cold to really hot without breaking--they have cheaper options, but sometimes, they'll shatter if you're not too careful. One time, I put one in the oven and had to spend the next six hours picking shattered glass out of my roast, it was terrible, that's why you have to splurge on the good stuff, 'cause otherwise, you'll scratch your mouth something awful."
"Wait," Baxter said. "You mean you still ate it?"
"Well, yeah!" Niffty seemed scandalized by the idea of wasting food. "Meat's expensive, and I put a lot of work into that one! It was a new recipe, Alastor gave it to me. He gave the meat to me too."
This was only getting worse. Baxter asked, "Why would you eat anything someone like that gave you?"
"Because meat's expensive!" Niffty cried. "I couldn't let him go through all that trouble to feed me, just so I can throw it out. Look, I know he ate a few people, and he uses too many bay leaves, but he's a very good man. Good to me, at least, it's not like any of us are saints down here--he was disappointed too, but he bought me a new baking dish because he felt bad for me. Wouldn't eat the meat, though--I thought he liked blood or something, after that first time I watched him eat venison completely raw, but I guess he doesn't like his own? It was a lot of glass. But the baking dish he bought me's still going strong! I made pork chops last night!"
Of course, considering how exactly she had died, that neighbor’s Pyrex was probably the least of her worries. God, what was her name again? She’d been awfully nice to her. Niffty just remembered how they had moved in, and being so happy to see another interracial couple. They could’ve been friends, but then she had gone and screwed everything up, and killed sixty-plus of innocents. At the very least, Hell had Pyrex--she hoped that lovely woman invested in some for herself.
“Right, right,” Arackniss said. Baxter looked like he wanted to erase any memory of the previous part of the conversation. “And he died in ‘52 with you.”
”Yeah,” Niffty said—she couldn’t add anything to that. Just another, lamer, “yeah.”
No wonder she hadn’t found him down here. Why would he want to find her? No, he was running from his crazy fake-wife, and it was so unfair, because no matter how fast Niffty could move, it’d never be fast enough to escape herself. She was stuck with herself—and now she was here, infecting the (after)lives of her loved ones with her presence because—
Arackniss cut off that train of thought like another bigger, faster train knocking it straight off it’s rails and racing down it’s tracks. “So. How long were you together?”
”Since I was eighteen!” She chirped. “And until I was twenty-two, so that’d be…” She hesitated and started counting on her fingers: one, two, three… “…four years!”
“And…” A beat. “…Other than sleeping with everybody other than you, you must’ve been pretty close, right?” Niffty shrugged her shoulders, but he continued. “No, he left his family and turned them all against him for marrying an Asian chick. Or… half of one.”
She couldn’t help her indignant huff. “I’m no less of a woman just ‘cause I’m Asian. That’s like saying you’re less of a man just ‘cause you’re Italian, and all European men are automatically effeminate.”
”My point,” he started through gritted teeth. “…is no man’s gonna do that unless he’s pretty serious ‘bout his girl.”
She never thought of it like that. She supposed she thought of that as something unavoidable for their romance, and their relationship, to her had felt like it was always going to happen, like she’d been gunning for a future as a wife for all her life, because… what else could she be? A secretary? That job was for white women, with an education, who got to be pretty and make money. She didn’t get that. “Yeah,” Niffty said. A part of her relished whatever comfort could be found that, even if it didn't end the way she had ever wanted it to, there'd been some sacrifice. That maybe he had wanted it to work as much as she had. “I guess you’re right.”
“So.” Arackniss paused, like he was trying to make sense of all this. “…You got any way to contact him?”
”Nope.” If she had it, she would’ve contacted him by now, even if she knew it was bad. She loved him. That was what love was—doing things you shouldn’t! “I haven’t seen him since we died. I don’t even know what he’s up to right now.”
Arackniss didn’t seem to like that answer much. “Let me see your phone.”
”Why?” Niffty asked.
”Just do it.” That was logic she couldn’t argue with! She handed it over to him, just as it started vibrating and Vaggie’s name popped onto the screen. Probably without thinking anything of it, Arackniss declined the call and scrolled through her contacts. Nothing seemed to jump out at him, so he just handed it back and Niffty pocketed it.
”Did that help at all?” She asked.
”No.”
”Oh.” She hadn’t been sure what it was going to do, but it kinda sucked it was nothing. “Sorry.”
A voice piped up from the back of the alley they were in, where the door to Mimzy’s speakeasy was. “And where’d that lead take you?”
Arackniss turned so fast on his heel, he might have left tread marks from the sole into the pavement, and he almost reached for his gun before Velvet’s mad eyes froze him to his core. “Fuckin’ Hell.”
Velvet stepped out of the shadows that fell over her and closer into the light. “I know the three of you aren’t dawdling in an alley for fun—this is time sensitive! Who knows what’s happening to your poor brother!” She giggled, and Arackniss started shaking. Niffty thought he might leap for her throat and wondered how long he’d last up against Velvet—she hoped awhile. She liked him. “Spill the tea, shortie. Don’t leave me waiting.”
Arackniss didn’t immediately respond.
Velvet clicked her tongue, but it mostly drew attention to her teeth—they looked too large in her mouth. Niffty didn’t know why she was so unnerving when she spent so much time around Alastor! But Velvet turned to her. “What about you, cutie? You look more reasonable. What’s the scoop, you found somethin’?”
Niffty cleared her throat and reached up to tug along the kerchief around her throat. “Angel went on a date last night, with this guy—his name’s Michael, and he’s still hung up over his ex, which Angel thinks is the least attractive thing to find in a man—he told me! So, I think that’s why it went so bad.” She pursed her lips, hummed. “I dunno—Arackniss, do you think that man was upset enough to kidnap Angel? He didn’t seem that angry…“
Arackniss shot her a dirty look—what had she done? Besides the accidentally killing him bit, that had nothing to do with this.
Baxter spoke up, “I thought he was stood up.”
Arackniss turned back to glare at him too, but he elaborated, “We’ve been assuming his date stood him up, and that that was why he was so upset. I thought that was why he was drinking. Honestly, didn’t he say he was stood up?” Niffty tried to think back to it—and she couldn’t remember if Angel had said anything about it, but they had been assuming it, before they caught that extra leg under the table on that video. “I can’t remember exactly—but there’s no way he was stood up, he was on that date.”
Arackniss was shooting some nasty texts to Angel, demanding answers—and now Niffty couldn’t remember it, either. She had sworn it was—but then they had jumped onto this video and the new evidence so fast, they hadn’t really taken the time to question it.
I should’ve written that down, Niffty thought, reaching for her notepad. Maybe she had?
She flipped through the list of all the ways Crymini had died, and then the phone numbers, and a whole bunch of small notes to herself, things she wanted to be sure she remembered. What she hadn’t made note of was this.
Holy fuck, they were so stupid. Arackniss thought, this failure was a bad omen for all of this. Just like that, he thought for sure, this meant his siblings were goners, he couldn’t help them. And what then? He thought about the sick shit he knew Angel had done before, and the sicker shit he knew the bad people down here were capable of—people like…
Valentino.
Ever since he had gotten back in touch with his brother, the man’s name left a bitter taste in his mouth, felt heavy on his tongue, left his chest growing tighter, his stomach clenching like he was sick. The forties had not been kind to Angel—but a small, part of Arackniss, back in life, had found some comfort in the possibility that whatever he had in store was maybe nicer than what he had gotten in life. Arackniss couldn’t truly think it, not in words, only the abstract—that the life they lived in the family was not suited for someone like Anthony, the honest truth that maybe he would never be happy, never content, never satisfied and it didn’t matter in the scale of the family because it was expected of him, and therefore necessary.
And now they were here, and Arackniss wondered if he had any way to truly wrap his head around just what entirely his brother had gone through, and knew that Angel would not be sharing that of his own free will in casual conversation—not without a shit ton of alcohol, and worse than that, Arackniss feared he didn’t want to hear it. He knew, somewhere in his bones, he was reluctant to hear what Angel had truly gone through, that if he did hear about it, it’d be with his fingers digging into his suit and the cushions on his chair, clenching his jaw and biting back the rage and disgust inside him.
Arackniss could stomach a lot of things—and he knew he had done a lot of grizly, awful things, but… never to his family. He didn’t want anything to ever happen to his family, no matter how much they pissed him off.
Velvet yawned, leaned against the craggy wall and grinned at them with the most delight in her eyes. “Didn’t know Angel Dust was still getting around,” she said. For one, awful moment, she locked eyes with Arackniss—and right before she spoke, he had this feeling that she was going to say something absolutely awful that he was going to hate, something he could only predict with the way she said his brother’s name. “You think his boss knows he’s giving the goods out for free?”
”Keep my brother’s name outta your mouth,” Arackniss hissed. Niffty shifted on her feet and wiped her palms on her skirt, suddenly uncomfortable with the situation. Maybe it was Velvet, or maybe it was everything that had been happening since this morning.
Velvet grinned, all teeth and zero emotion on her lips. “Angel!” She repeated. “Angel Dust!” Arackniss was foaming at the mouth. “What, you don’t like your brother anymore? Don’t like his name, don’t like his job?” She tilted her head. “Or is it just that I’m saying it? Need to keep your li’l brother’s name outta those filthy Overlords’ mouths?” She licked her lips—Baxter assumed this meant they were probably going to get eaten, which he was not okay with. (He was pretty sure Velvet ate people?) She could eat the other two people, but him? Fish didn’t even taste good. “Is that it?”
Arackniss was not a stupid man—he knew that it was an overlord like Velvet that knew exactly what Valentino had done to his brother. He also knew she would feel no guilt, or remorse, or disgust about anything that had befallen him under Valentino’s employ. He also knew he had nothing to gain from picking a fight with an Overlord like her, and decided to keep his mouth shut, quietly bottling up his fury.
Velvet was still grinning, with her empty eyes. “You’re no fun,” she said, pursed her lips in a pout that broke in a minute for her teeth. Sometimes, when she smiled, it looked like she had grown a few dozen more teeth. “Let’s get back to business then. I did some digging for you three, but…” She gritted her teeth, hissed in a breath that only struck him as playful because there was no denying the total delight in her eyes. “…You’re gonna be disappointed. I didn’t find anything about Angel.”
Useful, Arackniss thought, bitterly. Where would he be, if not for Velvet and her nothing she was contributing to this?
Velvet’s expression didn’t change—but her voice softened. “…But I did find something about his twin.” Arackniss’ brain screeched to a halt, and when he didn’t immediately say anything, Velvet sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “But I guess this isn’t about her. She’ll be fine.”
”No, no—“ Arackniss cursed up a storm in his head—but now that he had both the twins to worry about… He wasn’t sure if he could really prioritize one over the other, and as much as he worried about Angel…
Molly wasn’t Angel. She was sweet, she was sensitive—whatever they put Angel through, Arackniss knew he could take it. He didn’t want him to, but Angel wasn’t a pussy. He’d be okay so long as he got help eventually. Molly didn’t quite have that going for her. Anything that could help either of them…
“What is it?” He asked.
”She was kidnapped twice today.” She cocked her head. “First by those Hellhounds, and then by whoever grabbed her next—but..." Her eyes seemed to sparkle. Baxter got the feeling, a look like that couldn't mean anything good for them. "How do we know they're not related? Like, how likely is it that both of your siblings were kidnapped today, and one-third of the kidnappers had nothing to do with it?" She made a face. "There's something... not right about that, right?" She bent her leg at the knee to raise it off the ground and adjusted the strap of her shoe around her ankle. "I decided. It's probably Val."
In all the confusion, Arackniss would've loved it if there was an answer, straightforward and just that easy, requiring no thinking if his own. But Velvet's empty eyes kept him firmly pinned in reality. There was no way it was that easy. "No," he said. "Because you already told us, him and Vox got a bet, that's why pesce--" He jerked a thumb at Baxter, who still couldn't seem to figure out what that word meant no matter how many times Arackniss used it. "--over there's with us, not 'cause we want him around."
"No, no, no." She lifted one of her hands to scratch somewhere around her jaw, and her nails left jagged lines over her skin. "Y'see, I've been thinking. Val's always got something going on, especially when it comes down to Vox. He gets something out of the bet, so he made it--because he knows he's gonna win." She tucked her hands behind her back. "I wouldn't put it past Val. He's not known for playing fair."
Arackniss tried to wrap his mind around this new piece of information. "So, that's it then? Valentino did it? That's what we've been looking for?"
Velvette sighed. "Part of it, at least. Which is kinda boring, right? I was disappointed too. He's probably working with somebody. He must've hired somebody else to do it, instead of his usual Hellhounds." She shrugged her shoulders. "Now, here's the problem for you three. There's only so much I can do about this, you know? I want to help, really but..." Despite her claims, she was being so careless about it all--and after holding over his head what it could mean, if Valentino had his hands on the twins? Something wasn't adding up. "Well. There's not much I can do. But I did a little bit of digging, and there's a few places you can check. If he's not there, then tough luck, I guess that's it--but if he is there, then, well, I guess you just owe me your siblings lives, huh?"
Arackniss stared blankly at her for a long, long moment. That... could mean anything. He didn't trust Velvet. He also, didn't trust Vox who technically had to benefit from their deal, and...
He supposed it didn't matter. Who down here could he trust?
Beside him came a loud chirp before Niffty was rummaging around in her pockets for her phone. She pulled it out, answered the call, and seemed to try to keep her voice down. "Hey, Husk!"
"What the fuck do you mean kidnapped?" Husk demanded.
Him and Alastor had come back from... something Charlie had already resigned herself to something she didn't want to hear about, and they had entered just as they had started to panic. "I mean, 'kidnapped,'" Vaggie said. "And Niffty's with Arackniss right now."
This cleared up nothing for Alastor, who they were learning to find out would pretend to forget names for some sort of power play up until he actually forgot them and just awkwardly stumbled around using them when the situation called for it, which was a different type of awkwardness than his usual assholery. "Angel's brother," Charlie clarified.
"Well, what the fuck is NIffty doing with Arackniss?" Husk asked.
Vaggie pinched the bridge of her nose. "We don't know," she said. "That's literally all we know, we're all caught up to speed the same amount."
Alastor glanced about the lobby. "It's awfully out of character for her to leave the hotel like this," he said. "I don't even think she vacuumed."
"She does love her vacuum cleaner," Charlie mumbled to herself.
Husk sighed and pulled out his phone. "I'll just call her," he said. "She always picks up on the second-ring anyway."
She really did pick up on the second ring, chipper as ever, which none of the information about the situation at hand should've led to, but, well, that was Niffty for you. "Hey, Husk!"
"Hey, kid," Husk said. "You know what the fuck's going on, 'cause I think Vaggie's in the middle of another aneurism."
"You guys give me the aneurism," Vaggie said.
"Oh, it's kind of a long story--I don't know a lot, but Arackniss came in this morning, looking for Angel, and he wasn't there, and then he called--hold on a sec', Arackniss is saying something--"
"Hang up."
Niffty blinked at him. "But I'm in the middle of a conversation!" She exclaimed. "Husk and Angel are close, everybody wants to know what happened, it's not fair to keep them out of the loop. Besides, I should probably tell them where I am." She sighed and said back into the phone, "Sorry, Arackniss is kinda rude today, I think he's just stressed about Angel--" Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Arackniss mull his choices over, and then reach for his holster, but she didn't realize what he was doing until there was the click of a cocked gun, aimed at her head. "What's the gun for?" Niffty asked.
Arackniss was not the type to repeat himself. "Hang. Up."
She stopped to stare at him, brain still catching up with the present. Husk in her ear said, "If that bastard's doing what I think he's doing right now--"
Niffty sighed. "I think I need to go, Husk. I-I'll try and call you later."
Husk started up again, "You tell that little sewer rat when I get my hands on him, I'm gonna tear him a new asshole--"
Niffty hung up--Arackniss' finger kept twitching closer to the trigger, and she wasn't sure how much help she'd be with a bullet hole in her. "What did he say?" Arackniss asked.
"Something gay, I dunno," Niffty responded. Arackniss took her cell phone from her hand, and declined the next incoming call from who-even-knew at this point. It disappeared into his pocket. Baxter was staring like he was considering making a break for it and no longer being involved with the two of them. It really made you wonder how fucking good this tenure he wanted so bad to be.
Velvet looked on with mild amusement. "Aw, man," she said. "I really thought you were gonna blow her head off."
"I did too!" NIffty chirped. This didn't seem to be a necessary addition.
Velvet shook her head and pulled out her phone. "I'll send you the location right now--no need to thank me. I'd lead you there, but honestly? I got loads better things to do than babysit you three all day, and this might not even take you anywhere."
"What is it?" Arackniss asked.
"An old warehouse," she said. "One of Val's. Hasn't been used ever since there was this one shoot-out--but that just means people don't got any reason to be there. Makes it perfect for kidnappings, I'd assume. Other than that? I don't got any leads."
Arackniss tried to think what she might have to gain from wasting his time--but one location. One. He wanted to believe it'd be that easy, damn the cost--if she was intending on sending him on a wild goose chase, she probably wouldn't admit she only had one place, right? He'd also pissed off Velvet by pulling a gun on her, and every Vee was crazy as is. Even if you didn't piss them off. "...Got it."
There was something about her smile that made him suppress a shiver. "Great," she said. "Let's hope it's this easy."
That was basically confirmation it wasn't going to be. Arackniss knew it. Velvet knew it. Even if Niffty didn't have enough brain cells to pinch and rub together to trigger any type of brain activity, she probably knew it too. When Velvet left, Baxter asked, plainly, "You don't actually trust her, right?"
Arackniss stuck his gun back in it's holster, and then slipped Niffty's stolen phone into his pocket. The question struck him as too stupid to deserve the wasted time of a proper answer, "If you wanna leave already, then do it, and stay the fuck outta my way, pesce. I ain't afraid to take a gun to you neither."
Again, Baxter submitted to his fate, fully aware it was likely going to end badly.
Then again, they were all in Hell. This just was the bad ending.
Molly's first time drinking gin, it was beside her brothers and trying desperately not to spit it out, even with Angel laughing at the faces she made. It tastes like death! She spat, and gave it to Angel to finish. Angel said he liked gin.
And that might've played a role in why she thought of him as she died. Gin and kerosene. Honestly, she thought the kerosene made the gin go down easier. Gin was not good.
That's how she knew she was in a bad place again. She was thinking of her death.
But this wasn't her mind growing dim and distant, losing her will to live. She was in a room that blotted out light. The air felt oppressive, like it didn't want her in it, too, the same atmosphere she dropped down in not too long ago and almost immediately regretted her decision. She supposed, it was easy to forget, sometimes, that she was in Hell--when she was surrounded by such friendly people, and the family she had longed for the past seventy-plus years.
She remembered now. She thought she had kinda remembered the minute she got kidnapped--that this was supposed to be a bad place full of bad people. She remembered now.
Dividing the room in half was a wall of bars--they didn't seem firmly set into place. She had tried shaking them around, but she didn't think she was nearly strong enough to actually dislodge one--and even then, it'd be too tight of a squeeze if she couldn't get another loose. The half she was trapped in didn't have the exit, of course. She doubted she could pick the lock, even if she did have anything to pick it with. Her phone was dying rapidly, the result of an older model with a short battery life not helped by her looking at the text messages from nobody she really knew.
So, she was just sitting there, legs pulled up to her chest, and thought she might die of dark boredom before anybody even laid a hand on her. All that fighting, for nothing.
She must've nodded off, because suddenly, the door was open. That was what she saw first--and then, the man kneeling across from her on the other side of bars, waiting patiently. When her eyes opened, he asked, his voice soft and quiet. "What was Heaven like?"
Miele considered ignoring him--but now, it was all she could think of, and she gritted her teeth, and tilted her head back to look anywhere but at the man, but her unreachable escape with a glowing hallway. "Lame as Hell," she responded. "Overrated in every way." The man hummed, as if disappointed with the answer, and again, she sighed. "...Maybe it was better than here, I dunno."
"You don't?" The man asked.
"I think some people were happy up there." She wasn't. The lump in her throat hurt to swallow, but she powered through it like she had powered through the worst of today. "...Everybody I loved was down here, though. What's a Heaven ya spend in total isolation? Never what I thought Heaven would be."
Another hum, short. "I don't know," he said. "It gets so crowded down here, so loud. Sometimes, the idea of isolation is almost welcome."
Right, overpopulation down here. Heaven was getting mighty crowded too, but it wasn't like it was down here. Down here, it all felt amplified--every problem seemed to want to become your problem through proximity. Even her own experiences down here had been privileged enough, after finding all her family, but she'd seen it. This man had probably been down here for awhile--long enough to get used to the constant hustle and bustle of the Pentagram, the unrelenting presence when everybody seemed to be awake, and screaming, and they hated you and you specifically. "Maybe," Molly said.
A beat, and he said, "I know you've had a long day."
"Ya don't say," she said. "Between my brother getting kidnapped, and me somehow gettin' kidnapped twice, all before like, noon? I dunno what fuckin' time it is, but it's sure felt long."
He sighed, reached up and ran a hand through dark hair. "Yeah. Our... timing isn't the greatest, I guess. I mean, it wouldn't have worked if we hadn't--"
"Yeah," she cut him off. "I saw the texts on the phone." She raised the cell she had taken from the man that had given her these first few cuts and probably introduced a new, eternal hatred of video cameras. "The biggest shock of this whole day, isn't that my first kidnapping might'a had nothing to do with you, but the guy torturin' me pro'lly ended me up here. It's the fact the fuckin' psycho that did this ta me--" She gestured to her face. She reeked of gin, blood, and sweat. "--was named fuckin' Killy. Killy. No wonder he was so gung-ho 'bout the torture, somebody named me Killy, I'd be punchin' everybody 'round me out."
The man winced. "...We... mostly cut ties with Killy due to his... tastes, as it were. We only found out he was working in snuff a few months ago. I really hate that that had to be your first real introduction to this."
Miele pursed her lips carefully and tried not to lean back. She didn't want to be scared of this man. She wasn't. "'This?'" She repeated.
He laughed, a soft little huff. "I'm all over the place, sorry. Let's start over." He took a deep breath--his smile, while friendly, didn't reach his eyes. "My name's Michael. Have you heard the good news?"