Rabbit Blood

Chapter 7 - Channel 666 Pays A Visit

Charlie and Vaggie spent a quiet morning away from the stresses and strains of the hotel, out by the duck pond. The water was lava and the ducks snappy and disagreeable, but it was still nice to throw the scraps of their bagels to the demon birds.

Charlie had lived in Hell long enough to know all its secrets. Recent advancements in the dark, quasi-scientific arts allowed for the birth of 'pet demons' - such as pigeons, rats, pigs, dogs, or the ducks they were now feeding - all of which made the streets of Hell more lively. These creatures were accurate facsimiles of living animals, apart from a shortened lifespan, and the occasional glowing eye, set of horns or spaded tail. Unfortunately, they weren't very intelligent, nor did they taste good.

"Where does the meat come from?" Vaggie had asked when she was newly damned to Hell.

"Well, two sources," Charlie reluctantly admitted. "First of all, some of us have access to the living world, so we can pick it up from there."

"Uh-huh. What's the other source?"

"Um... you remember seeing that wagon going around after the extermination?"

"Yeah, the one collecting corpses?" Vaggie confirmed. "Why?" The nasty truth in Charlie's response came plummeting down like a ton of reformed dead demon flesh, and Vaggie threw up into a wastebasket.

"I know. Some people say you can tell the difference, but it's really hard to find reputable sources," Charlie grimaced. "My advice is... try not to think about it."

Newly-damned Vaggie wiped her mouth. "I'll never trust an empanada again."

Here and now, the pair sat undisturbed, watching the ducks squabble over their leftovers. The moment would be even nicer if Vaggie could relax and stop worrying about the hotel. Charlie looked at her girlfriend, in a long lilac coat buttoned up to the collar, beautiful as ever... just worried.

"I hope we're on the right track," Vaggie said.

"I'm pretty sure we are," Charlie said. "A couple of the guests are really taking to it! We'll have them redeemed in no time."

"Are you sure I can field workshops the way I am?"

"Of course! You're very capable." Charlie poked the tip of her nose, making Vaggie smile. "Remember the time Alastor led a workshop?"

"Urgh! Never again."

Alastor insisted on recording that particular session, early in the hotel's opening history, so Charlie and Vaggie could 'learn a few things'. He still had the audio somewhere. His session ran like a Jerry Springer episode, naming and shaming demons for their misdeeds. He provoked the hotel guests and invited bad-faith criticism, which led to two separate fights breaking out, prematurely ending the session. This delighted Alastor, and Charlie gave him a stern talking-to.

"We don't do that," she said. "That is unhelpful! You can't call them pathetic and disgusting."

"Why shouldn't I tell the truth?" he countered, with the air of one who preferred annoying people to changing their minds.

"Al, look, if you're so sure my guests will fail... then you shouldn't need to antagonize them," Charlie fumed. Why was she using logic in the face of pure malevolence? For Pete's sake. "We'll come to you if one of the guests, I don't know, gets out of hand. Flex your abilities then, if you need to!"

"So you'd merely have me bounce ruffians from the hotel, like a common thug? I should be insulted!"

Charlie managed to talk him down, using that diplomacy that became a person of her standing. As a princess of hell, one of her most crucial skills was to guide others to her way of thinking. Although Vaggie was the source of Charlie's security, with her own way of laying down the law, Charlie knew the benefit of a little tact. It went a long way with Alastor. He agreed the sinners could fail by themselves, and that it might be more satisfying that way.