Why yes, I'll take your soul

Charlie and Vaggie were relaxing in the lounge late at night, sunk into opposite ends of the couch. Husk had already retired for the evening so they were completely alone.

There’d been an unspoken tension between them for days now. Not the old tension from Vaggie being an exorcist, that had mostly resolved before the battle. This was… heavier.

It was because Charlie had sold her soul.

Neither of them ever said it, but it was obvious. Vaggie looked at her differently now, like she was sick. Charlie didn’t know how to deal with it, so she worked. She buried herself in repairs, in flyers, in group activities. Anything that made her feel useful.

And when they did talk, they pretended nothing was wrong. This wasn’t sustainable.

If there was ever a time to clear the air, it was now.

Charlie inhaled, gathering her courage. Her heart thumped in the quiet of the lounge, loud enough she worried Vaggie might hear it.

“Va—”

“I’m sorry!” Vaggie blurted.

Charlie blinked. She hadn’t expected that. For a heartbeat all she could do was stare. Charlie had thought she’d done a decent job of showing Vaggie that she forgave her, but she obviously did not. 

“I already told you I forgive you,” Charlie said, voice weak despite trying to make it warm. “It hurt, but... I understand why you kept it from me.”

“That’s not— It’s…” Vaggie’s voice cracked. “It’s my fault. Alastor preyed on you in a moment of weakness. And that moment,” she clenched her fists, “it only happened because I wasn’t honest with you. If I’d just told you the truth, you’d still have your soul.”

Oh. So it was this.

Charlie had known Vaggie felt guilty about the deal, but she hadn’t realized it had burrowed this deep. It was eating her alive. That guilt. That belief that she’d failed.

Charlie couldn’t let that fester.

She reached out and gently took Vaggie’s hands in her own. “Vaggie. Look at me.”

Their eyes met, Vaggie’s wild and wet, Charlie’s… also wet.

“It’s not your fault,” Charlie said softly. “There’s nothing you could’ve done. I would have made that deal regardless. It was the right thing to do. It was the only way to protect everyone. I don’t regret it.”

And it was true. Charlie didn’t regret it. She couldn’t. Without Alastor, they would’ve been slaughtered. they never would’ve known how to defend themselves against the angels. They never would’ve rallied the cannibal army. If he didn’t put his life on the line, Adam would have carved through them well before her dad could save the day. It was the right choice. It was the only choice.

Vaggie cried silent tears as she leaned in and wrapped Charlie in a fierce, shaking hug. “You're too good for hell.” She mumbled into Charlie's shoulder.

It was game night.

Charlie had spent the entire day putting up flyers around town to advertise the hotel. Physically, she wasn’t too tired, posting flyers wasn’t hard work, but emotionally? She was drained. The constant jeering, the sneers, the pessimism from everyone she approached had worn her thin.

Now, finally, it was time to relax.

Charlie, Vaggie, Angel, and Husk sat hunched around a low table in the lounge, mid-game. Something with cards, had to be cards. If a game didn’t involve a deck, it was impossible to convince Husk to join.

It was a team-based game that rewarded reading people and catching lies. Charlie and Vaggie were on one team, Husk and Angel the other.

Predictably, Husk and Angel were winning.

Charlie was trying, really, but Husk was impossible to read. Worse, he was impossibly good at reading everyone else. 

Alastor wasn’t playing but he was nearby. Seated in his usual high-backed recliner behind Charlie and Vaggie. He nursed a glass of whiskey while old-time jazz crackled softly from the antique radio beside him.

It was a bit strange, seeing Alastor just hanging out like this. But Charlie would be lying if she said she wasn’t glad. It was good, seeing him get more involved in the day-to-day activities around the hotel. Even if it was only because of their deal.

Plus, he really did have impeccable taste in music. The radio beside his chair had been quietly changing stations to match the mood of their game, smooth jazz giving way to playful ragtime, then soft swing.

Angel rapped his knuckles on the table, the sound sharp against the quiet hum of the lounge. Charlie flinched, pulled from her thoughts.

Her turn.

She rolled a seven.

She nudged her piece forward, counting the spaces in her head.
‘One… two… three…’ and she landed on a turf war space.

And of course Husk was the closest enemy.

Charlie exhaled slowly and skimmed her cards.

The deck wasn’t kind tonight, but she had one solid option: she slid a king and queen onto the table. A bold play. One of the best pairs you could open with, but still just a pair.

Husk grunted and laid down four cards.

Either he had an incredibly strong hand... or he was about to waste a lot of resources.

She swallowed and tried to read him, searching his face for anything. Tension, smugness, a tell.

Nothing. Husk stared back, looking unimpressed. Then pushed his cards forward.

“Your move.”

‘Fuck.’ She couldn’t afford to lose any more territory. She hovered over her cards, about to fold, when a crackle of static cut through the quiet.

“He’s bluffing,” Alastor said sinisterly.

“How the hell would you know?” Husk grumbled, not looking up.

“Because I know my Husker so well,” Alastor replied, all honeyed cheer.

“Fuck you,” Husk shot back flatly.

“Keep your hands off Whiskers, he’s all mine,” Angel teased.

“Fuck you too.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Husk glared.

Charlie studied her cards, then glanced across the table at Husk. His face was a perfect mask, calm and unreadable, but something in her gut told her to trust Alastor. No one knew the grumpy old cat better.

She swallowed, trying to keep her nerves out of her voice as she nudged her cards forward.

“Flip them,” she said, lifting her own hand for the table to see.

He gave a quiet grunt and slowly scooped up his cards, flipping them one by one. Charlie leaned in, holding her breath.

Two of hearts. Five of hearts. Five of spades… and nothing. He had a fat load of nothing.

Charlie’s eyes widened. “Fuck yeah! I won!” She burst into a grin so wide it hurt her cheeks.

“That’s fucking cheating!” Angel slapped the table. “You can’t just have Smiles here give you the answers.”

Alastor didn’t even look up. “Show me where in the rules it says you can’t solicit advice,” he said casually. “After all, I have the same information she does.”

Charlie is conflicted. On one hand, relying on Alastor feels a little unfair, on the other hand, Husk is unfairly good at this game. On one hand, she doesn't want to upset Angel and Husk, on the other hand, she's really happy that Alastor is taking an interest.

That alone felt like a small miracle.

So, she let it go. They’ll get over it.

No one seemed truly upset anyways, and Alastor never involved himself in group stuff like this. She wanted to encourage that, not shut it down.

Back to the game, Charlie claimed the alley from Husk and rapped her knuckles against the table, signaling it was his turn.

The game trudged on with chaotic energy. Husk managed to draw two more cards and gave a smug, satisfied grunt. Angel gleefully placed a hit on Vaggie,  and Vaggie got a sacrificial pawn.

Then it was Charlie’s turn.

She rolled, moved her pawn, and winced as she landed on the "Extermination Day” space. Everyone has to play a card face down, then flip a card from the top of the deck, ‘The Extermination Card’ and see who survives. Each suit works differently. It was risky, largely random, and felt a little too real.

That’s when she noticed Angel staring off, distracted.

Charlie turned to see what had caught his attention and found Alastor staring right at her.

“Eep!” she squeaked, startled by the intensity of his eyes boring into her.

“Play the seven,” Alastor said smoothly, his voice unusually soft. Almost sultry.

Charlie flushed. “Gah. Do-don’t tell them what I have,” she hissed under her breath.

He just smiled. That calm, patient, predatory smile. “Trust me.”

Charlie glanced down at her hand. A seven of hearts. If the total value of all hearts on the table beat the Extermination Card, every heart player survived. And if that total also outscored every other suit combined, they got to keep their cards and draw an extra.

Alastor wanted her to play this instead of her eight of clubs or her two of spades? That meant he was expecting someone else, (Probably Husk since he can read him so easily) to play a heart too.

Screw it. She trusted him.

She slid her seven of hearts onto the table.

“Good girl,” Alastor purred.

The praise licked down her spine with a shiver. She didn’t know what to make of that.

The Extermination card flipped. Eight.

Charlie held her breath.

He revealed his own card with a smug little flourish. Nine of diamonds. 

Vaggie flipped hers. Two of clubs. Charlie winced. Terrible.

All eyes turned to Husk.

He flicked his card over, Ace of hearts.

Charlie exhaled in relief and turned her own card over. seven of hearts.

Twenty total.

Just enough to beat the rest of the table combined.

Angel, with his diamond, grinned and plucked the last card from Vaggie’s dwindling hand like a vulture picking ribs clean.

Vaggie was forced to sacrifice her sacrificial pawn to survive the extermination, which she did with a grimace.

Meanwhile, Charlie and Husk each reclaimed their heart cards and drew a fresh one from the deck.

The game dragged on for over an hour, and by then, a rhythm had set in. Without fail, Alastor could tell whenever Husk was bluffing, much to Husk’s chagrin. Occasionally, the Radio Demon would also call out Angel, and every single time, he was right.

But he never offered those insights to anyone but Charlie.

Not once did he assist Vaggie.

Even with Alastor’s insight, the game stayed tight. Angel and Husk had started adapting, shifting their strategies to undermine the advantage. Husk ignored Charlie whenever he could and went straight for Vaggie, bleeding her resources slow and steady. Angel did the opposite, drifting toward any space that let him harass Charlie specifically.

Charlie now found herself locked in another turf war with Husk, but this time she had an angelic weapon. If she could beat him by three points Husk would be eliminated.

Alastor leaned forward, one elbow on his knee, voice smug.

“Husk has absolutely nothing,” he said. “Not even a pair.”

Husk didn’t react. He just raised a brow and continued sipping his drink.

Charlie laid a pair of eights. Not the strongest thing in her hand, but it should be enough to eliminate Husk.

Across from her, Husk silently placed two cards face-down.

Charlie flipped her hand confidently.

Husk smirked, then Husk revealed his.

‘A king and a queen. So Husk is—what?’

“Oops,” Alastor says in an innocent tone that fools no one.

Charlie stared at him, stunned. "Why?"

He rested his chin on his hands and smiled pleasantly. “You were relying on me too much, my dear,” he said. “I was growing bored.”

"Heh... I guess I was," Charlie said with a sheepish smile, trying to play it off.

Angel snorted. "Oof. Betrayed by Smiles. Who could’ve seen that coming?"

Charlie tried to laugh it off, but it didn’t quite sound right to her ears.

Charlie knew she shouldn’t be surprised. This was Alastor, after all. But still, it stung. She wouldn’t say it aloud, but hurt lingered just beneath her smile.

The game resumed, but things didn’t go nearly as smoothly for her after that. Alastor continued to offer advice, still perched in his chair with that ever-pleasant grin, but now, he would occasionally try to trick her, and advice isn’t nearly as helpful when you can’t trust the person giving it.

The last half-hour was painful. Husk exploited every mistake with clinical precision. Angel seized any chance to undercut her, laughing the entire time. Vaggie tried to keep them afloat, but she was burning resources faster than she could recover them.

Eventually, the game wound to a close, ending in a narrow defeat for Charlie and Vaggie. It had been close, surprisingly so, but in the end, Husk and Angel pulled just far enough ahead to clinch the win.

“Chin up, dear,” Alastor said lightly. “You still performed better than you would have otherwise.”

“Mhm,” Charlie muttered, shooting him a glum, half-hearted glare.