Rabbit Blood

Chapter 37 - The Golden Records

For most of Vaggie's life, the bathroom was her haven, a place of safety and solitude. No-one could hurt her in the bathroom. That door lock meant everything at a time when she couldn't yet defend herself.

She died screaming, and when she woke, it was in Hell, having to do it all again, only different. After all, she could heal from her injuries. But for a few exceptions, a sinner damned to Hell could not die, which was the most common excuse for demons to do vile, reprehensible things to each other. Newly-damned Vaggie didn't think she could handle it. An eternity of mere survival? It was the worst thing she could think of.

Then she met the Princess: somehow the most sweet and innocent thing in any world, up or down. Princess Charlotte Magne, insuperably more divine than her fallen-angel father. At first, Vaggie kept her distance, unsure how to navigate their acquaintance, let alone romantic interest. She thought the age difference would present problems... but somehow, it didn't. Charlie looked to be twenty-five, and acted even younger. Time seemed not to touch her, so it wasn't so strange that the two connected.

Months later - careful, tenuous months - they admitted their feelings at the top of a broken Ferris wheel in LuLu World: stuck for half an hour on a freezing metal seat, forty feet in the air, but otherwise perfectly content. As Vaggie recalled, they were both blushing from the recent confession.

"This is so nice," Charlie said, wrapping the end of her scarf around Vaggie's shoulders. "I feel safe with you."

Suddenly, Vaggie felt her circumstances weren't so bad. She had a purpose, someone to protect, to stay alive for.

Locking herself in the top floor restroom, Vaggie jammed her hard-earned spear against the door for good measure. It was almost worth losing the eye to have such a weapon - but god-fucking-damn it, why couldn't she use it on the Radio Demon? It was so hideously unfair. If she made any attempt on his life, he would simply use his power to disarm her, and then punish her for trying.

Always, it was these men...

Vaggie knelt on the bathmat and covered her face with one hand. She prayed. She prayed for Charlie's safety, for the prosperity of the hotel, and to be delivered from evil... one evil in particular.

o - o - o - o - o

Alastor was away for a while. He'd never mention or explain what he did during his absence, and Leslie knew better than to ask. She shouldn't have cared, but a little notice would have been nice. Neither sound nor sight of him since their meeting in her bedroom, and she wasn't meant to feel like it was something she did?

Bastard.

One day, a fortnight before she would have turned 28, Leslie thought of something to tell him. She went to write it down before she forgot, and found her phone was at 3% battery.

Fine, she thought, plugging it in. Let's do it old school.

Taking a page of her notebook, Leslie lay on her front in bed, to pen a letter. She didn't use their names, since Al insisted there be no physical evidence tying them together. (God, the amount of secret agency she did these days!) No matter: she knew what pseudonyms to use.

How's it going, Hades.

Now, obviously, you like vintage/bygone tech, and I prefer digital media. Never the two shall meet, right? Wrong! I just remembered something that blends them together. You didn't see the moon landing in your lifetime, but I know you knew there were other planets. Maybe aliens too? I bet people have wondered if there's life Out There since they were able to look up.

Anyway, years ago, NASA (our space program) sent a time capsule into space. It includes a couple of phonographic records which were gold-plated, probably to make them last as long as possible.