The red sky of Pride Ring cast its perpetual crimson glow over Pentagram City as Kevin Angelus Collins stepped out of the Hazbin Hotel’s front doors.
The heat hit him immediately—not the suffocating brimstone of religious texts, but a humid warmth that reminded him of summer nights in New Orleans.
Beside him, Vaggie adjusted the bow in her hair and then tentatively reached out her hand toward him.
He paused, and she smirked, “You said this was a date, right?
You gonna act the part, or what?”
Nodding with a grin of his own, Kevin slipped his fingers between hers, “Of course.”
“Ready to see Hell?” Vaggie’s eye gleamed with something between amusement and challenge.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” He laughed.
“I think you’ll be somewhat surprised,” Vaggie assured him, “Like I told Charlie, I want you to see that it’s not all what Heaven or living souls are led to believe.
There is charm to be found out there.”
“Then treat me like a tourist, Vaggie,” Kevin suggested, “like I did for Charlie when I introduced her to New Orleans.”
“Well,” Vaggie chuckled, “I warn you, the street performances here will be a little different.” She drawled out the word little.
They started down the road, and Kevin couldn’t help but marvel at the city spread before them.
Pentagram City sprawled like a fever dream made manifest, nothing like he’d expected from centuries of religious doctrine.
It looked less like Dante’s Inferno and more like a neon-drenched twisted mirror of New York City—garish signs advertising everything from cheap booze to cheaper thrills, buildings that defied architectural logic climbing toward the spinning pentagram in the sky, and everywhere, everywhere, those strange red eyes embedded in the structures watched from the shadows.
Kevin’s eyes swept the street with the tactical precision of the Sergeant he used to be, cataloging threats and escape routes out of habit.
“You’re doing the soldier thing again,” Vaggie observed with amusement.
“Can’t help it.” Kevin offered a rueful smile.
“I know we’re out to have fun, but it’s Hell and that means never letting your guard down all the way.”
“At least you’re not jumping at every shadow.” Vaggie squeezed his hand.
“I asked you out so I could get to know you like I know Charlie,” Kevin reminded her.
“Can’t do that if I bail at the first sign of chaos.” Tapping his shirt with his free hand, he added, “It took a bit of self-convincing to leave the tactical vest behind, though.”
“I noticed,” Vaggie commented.
“But I doubt we’ll have to deal with anything serious.”
Just then, a demon stumbled past them, clearly high on something that made his eyes glow an unnatural green.
Kevin watched him go with cautious interest rather than fear.
“No, just the usual, I suppose?”
Vaggie nodded in agreement, “Lots of that, yes.”
Another demon—this one resembling a walking lollipop—argued loudly with what appeared to be a sentient couch.
Two Bull-like demons in leather jackets shoved past without apology.
“Charming,” Kevin muttered.
“In a ghoulish way,” Vaggie observed.
“And very much different from Heaven.”
“Indeed.” Kevin nodded thoughtfully.
“As a High Angel of the courts, I was tasked with understanding Hell and how it worked.
The structure, the rings, the hierarchy.” He gestured at their surroundings.
“Though I still have so many questions and some things still throw me off at times, like the a.m.
and p.m.
switch.”
Vaggie’s lips quirked.
“Yeah, that took me some time to get used to.”
They continued walking, and Vaggie guided him past a row of shops with barred windows.
One sold weapons.
Another advertised “Demon’s Delights”—Kevin didn’t ask what that meant.
It was Hell, it was obvious.
A third had its windows completely blacked out, with only a flickering neon sign reading “Oblivion” to mark its existence.
Kevin shook his head, “Still, despite the decor, it feels almost normal.”
“Hell works a lot like Earth,” Vaggie said, her tone taking on that of a tour guide.
“We’ve got restaurants, shops, banks, even a stock market.”
“Right.
Husk told me a bit about the retail structure down here, with corporate greed making a mark in Hell, too.” Kevin’s eyes drew up a taller building with a logo reading ‘Dirty Energy, LTD.’
“Sinners rebuilt what they knew.
It’s familiar, comfortable, and normal in its own twisted way.” She explained in response.
“Normal,” he repeated, “except for the drugs and prostitution on every corner,” Kevin observed, nodding toward a group openly passing around what looked like crystallized light.
“That’s just another day that ends in Y down here,” Vaggie smirked.
Kevin nodded thoughtfully but didn’t comment.
The pair continued on in silence for a couple of blocks, while Kevin observed the various movements of sinners and demons.
It was surreal that the creatures that would have frightened him on Earth before meeting Charlie behaved so casually—some even waving at Vaggie in a friendly manner.
He had to remind himself that they were, in every way, as dangerous here as they would be haunting humans on Earth.
A flash of memory of Charlie in her most demonic form, scaring the monsters they chased, brought forth another memory, “Sinners come to Hell for the mistakes they’ve made, the crimes they’ve committed, the evils that some of them have done.
They live an afterlife of torture that is never-ending.” He nodded to three small imps passing by, “And yet demon kind are born, live, and die here as naturally as humans on Earth.”
Vaggie had stopped walking to listen as he continued, “And I know that Exorcist Angels can regenerate if not killed by angelic steel.
I assume sinners are the same way?”
“Pretty much.” Vaggie steered them around a group of demons watching a street performer juggling actual fireballs.
“Sinners are already dead, so they can’t die again—not permanently.
Get shot, stabbed, crushed, burned, doesn’t matter.
You’ll pull yourself back together eventually.
It’s supposedly incredibly painful, but it’s part of the punishment.
Living forever with your sins, unable to escape them.” She gestured upward toward a nearby building.
“As you said, only angelic steel can erase a sinner’s existence.” Pointing to a building, she asked, “See those eyes?”
Kevin followed her finger to where dozens of red eyes blinked from the brickwork, watching the street below with an unnerving awareness.
He’d noticed them throughout their walk.
“Yeah.
I saw them while we were rebuilding, but from a distance.
Charlie didn’t want me wandering from the hotel early on.
I always thought they were graffiti.
But they follow us.
What are they?”
“Damnation markers.” Vaggie’s expression sobered.
“When a sinner is killed by angelic steel during an extermination, their soul doesn’t just die—it’s erased.
Completely.
The dark energy that’s left behind gets absorbed into Hell itself, into the structures, the streets, everything.” Her voice dropped.
“Those eyes are all that remains of them.
Every execution leaves hundreds more.”
Kevin stared at the building, his jaw tightening.
There were dozens of eyes on this building alone.
Thousands across the city.
Millions, probably, across centuries of exterminations.
“I had to lead the attack on the hotel.
Play the part to get close enough to save Charlie.” His voice was quiet, reflective.
“But sinners still died.
Exorcist angels, too.
That makes me responsible for some of these, too.”
Vaggie’s hand tightened on his.
“So am I.
I killed them for years.” Her voice carried the weight of her own regret.
“Following orders and believing I was doing righteous work.”
Kevin turned to look at her, seeing the familiar pain in her eye.
“Between you and Charlie, I know the story in full, now.
You chose mercy when it mattered most.
Charlie may have found you, saved you, but you’re the one who gave her the strength to carry out her mission.
In yourself.”
“Just as you did when you became a bounty hunter, looking for your own redemption.”
“I know.” Kevin squeezed her hand.
“And I know it doesn’t make it easier, either.
Sinners are down here for any number of reasons—and I’ve come to understand that not all of those reasons are evil.”
“And some deserve a second chance,” Vaggie added softly.
“Which is why we keep working on Charlie’s dream.” Kevin managed a small smile.
“Together.”
Vaggie nodded, returning the smile.
“Together.”
They continued on, and Vaggie resumed the role of tour guide, repeating an earlier comment to expand on.
“Anyway, hell-born demons are different from sinners entirely.
They share a natural life cycle similar to what you’d find among the living.
It’s only sinners who are stuck in the immortal loop.” Vaggie glanced at him sideways.
“Though you and I are special cases.
Former angels and all that.”
Kevin flexed his free hand.
“I know you can regenerate.
I’ve never so much as gotten a splinter up in Heaven, and down here during the reconstruction, nothing of consequence.
So it’s not exactly a theory I’m eager to test.”
“Well, for that, we probably should do a controlled test soon.” Vaggie smirked, “If you’d ever let me get in a good shot when we spar.”
Chuckling, Kevin shook his head, “Your blade is made of Angelic Steel, silly.
Even a hit wouldn’t heal without help.”
“I’ll use something else then,” Vaggie mock pouted, “Cause you’re up by two points, and I am going to get even soon.”
Pursing his lips, Kevin didn’t return an answer to that one; instead, his thoughts were already coalescing on what to do about testing his limits and weaknesses.
As he thought about it, he saw a couple of larger demons, obvious overlord types, enter what appeared to be an office building.
When he paused to look, Vaggie followed his gaze, her features cooling, “Which is another reason we should learn your limitations sooner rather than later.”
He gave her a look, as if she’d known what he was thinking, “Alastor told me there would be targets on my back.
Overlords, sinners, who see me as an extension of the executions, or in some cases…”
“Like the Vees,” Vaggie fit in the overlords’ names.
“…would try to get me to make a deal with them.” His eyes drifted up, “And then there are those in Heaven who haven’t forgotten what I’ve done, and are likely not going to let it go.”
“Lute,” Vaggie groused.
“Lute,” Kevin echoed in agreement.
They turned a corner into what looked like a marketplace.
Vendors hawked their wares from colorful stalls—weapons, drugs, and stranger things Kevin couldn’t identify.
A large hellhound carrying a crate pushed through the crowd, easily seven feet tall and covered in matted black fur.
Kevin’s step faltered slightly.
Vaggie noticed but didn’t comment immediately.
When they’d moved past and a bit down the way, she asked quietly, “Rygen?”
“Just memories.” Kevin forced himself to relax.
“I have to remind myself that not all hellhounds are monsters.
Most are just trying to survive like everyone else.”
Vaggie nodded, understanding.
She’d heard enough about Rygen to know why Kevin would react as he did.
During a couple of quiet evenings when the three sat alone at the bar, nursing drinks before bed, he’d opened up more about his PTSD, how it had returned with his memories, but much more manageable since he’d learned how to meditate in Heaven.
He’d told them that the one aspect of Hell he was having the most trouble with was seeing hellhounds everywhere.
Nearly dying by Rygen’s claws had left a permanent scar on his psyche, and he was damned glad that the hellhound was dead.
In response, Charlie let him know about the Sin Beelzebub, who was the originator of the Hellhound species, and perhaps at some point she would find time to introduce Kevin to her, so he could see that some, like Beelzebub, were very much gentle and loving people.
They walked on, leaving the marketplace behind.
The buildings grew taller, more elaborate.
This was clearly a wealthier district—the hellish equivalent of penthouse apartments and exclusive clubs.
“So how do demons get by day by day?” Kevin asked, genuinely curious.
“It can’t just be constant violence and chaos.
There has to be some structure.”
“There is.
A few rules that keep things from total anarchy.” Vaggie ticked them off on her fingers.
“First, you show strength.
Always.
You can’t let anyone think you’re prey, or you’ll become it.
Second, you avoid making deals with Overlords unless you absolutely have to—and if you do, you make damn sure the terms are in your favor.”
“Like the deal Charlie made with Alastor.” Venom coated Kevin’s example.
Vaggie’s eye flashed.
“Exactly like that.
Which I still blame myself for.
She did it because I wasn’t there to stop her, and Alastor offered a way to fight Adam’s army.”
“Don’t blame yourself.
Alastor’s a manipulator.
Charlie and I argued over this once already, and I promised not to bring it up again, unless necessary.
But I don’t like it one bit, and Al knows if he dares try to harm her…”
“…We’ll intervene.” Vaggie finished the sentence, adding, “But I’ve decided to trust her judgment with Alastor, even if I don’t trust Alastor completely to be on the up and up.”
“Neither do I.
That smile, the static, the way he’s always three steps ahead…” Kevin shook his head.
“His own version of 4D chess?” Vaggie eyed him knowingly.
“It’s almost like I’m pitted against Tag again.
He’s the one who taught me those skills.
But with Alastor, if push comes to shove, I will push back.”
When Vaggie didn’t immediately respond and stopped walking, Kevin was forced—with their hands intertwined—to stop as well.
He gave her a look.
She locked eyes with him.
“I know.
Believe me, I know.” Her jaw tightened.
“And if it happens, I have your back.”
Kevin held her gaze, then nodded.
“I appreciate that.”
Vaggie squeezed his hand.
“Now come on.
We’re supposed to be on a date, remember?
Getting to know each other better.”
“That we are,” Kevin agreed again, “So, where are we off to next?”
“Lunch!” Vaggie beamed, “I know a great place that you are going to love.”
The restaurant she led him to was called “Earthly Delights,” and it reminded Kevin of a thousand small diners he’d eaten at during his time on Earth.
Red vinyl booths, checkered floors, even a jukebox in the corner playing what sounded like early rock and roll.
“This place caters to sinners who want to remember what it’s like to eat normal food,” Vaggie explained as they slid into a booth.
“Not everyone down here wants to live on brimstone and demon-spawned food.
This place goes to great lengths to replicate a normal Earth-like restaurant.”
Kevin marveled at the effort, quipping, “At least they didn’t try to replicate Taco Bell.”
A waitress appeared—a demoness with small horns that curled gently back, with a shark-like tail.
“What can I get’cha’?” She asked in an exaggerated southern accent.
Kevin admitted that, besides the hotel and his princess, he felt more at home here than anywhere else in Hell.
He scanned the menu and chose the Greek salad with a side of toasted bread.
As the waitress took the menus and went to give their orders to the kitchen, Vaggie smiled affectionately at Kevin.
Quirking an eyebrow, Kevin asked, “What?”
“Nothing.” Vaggie’s smile widened.
“It’s just… You changed your whole diet for Charlie.
Gave up meat because of her stance on it.
But you know she isn’t going to scold you if you go back to your old ways, not down here, anyway.”
“I know.” Kevin shrugged.
“But I admire her for standing by her principles.
I’m not going to denounce them just because she’s not here to see what I eat.”
Vaggie’s expression softened.
“That’s… actually really sweet.”
Kevin winked at her and whispered in mock conspiracy, “Don’t spread it around.
I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”
She winked back, “Do you really want to keep the reputation as an Exorcist angel down here?
Better to be known as the princess’s consort.”
Laughing, he sat back in his chair and nodded, “Too true.
Too true.” And at that, he paused, suddenly aware, “Wait…”
She saw the revelation in his eyes, the way his brow crinkled, and she actually giggled, “You didn’t think about what that really means, did you?”
“No, I did not.” He admitted, feeling a bit awestruck.
Her expression changed slightly, and he caught the look.
Reaching over, he touched her hand that was sitting on the table, “I would defer to you, without question, just so you know.”
A touch of purple blanched over her cheeks, but Vaggie placed her free hand on top of his and shook her head, “When I said I’d share, I meant it in every way.”
“I just didn’t even think…” He paused and let out a short laugh, “For someone who prides himself on paying attention to every little detail…” His words faded, the idea seemingly beyond his comprehension.
“Because it doesn’t matter to you, or me.” Vaggie explained, “Titles.
Positions.
They’re not important to us.
Only Charlie’s happiness matters.”
“Right,” Kevin nodded, “Plus, all of that is a long way off.”
“True,” Vaggie agreed, “But the title of consort comes with some power attached to it, so don’t be afraid to use it if you think it will help.”
“Charlie’s consort,” Kevin tasted the title, “one of them, anyway.” He added with a wink.
They shared a knowing smile.
A loving thought of their shared girlfriend, and that was all they needed.
A few minutes later, as they chatted lightly, with Vaggie sharing a few intimate details about herself and asking Kevin more about his life on Earth and his sister, their meals came, and they set about eating.
When the waitress came around and asked if they’d like anything else, Vaggie eyed Kevin.
She’d come to know that his penchant to stay alert trumped anything else, and only at night at the bar just before bed would he partake, so she wanted to make sure, “Is one glass of wine with lunch okay?”
He nodded, “One glass is fine.”
The waitress gave him a weird look, then left.
Kevin chuckled, “A patron who doesn’t stumble out drunk must be unheard of here.”
“Unheard of most everywhere.” Vaggie corrected, “Which is a sin I was really against, originally.
I was even against the bar being installed at all.
I was so engaged in making sure sinners wouldn’t sin, that I almost took a sledgehammer to the bar the first night after everyone was asleep.”
Eyebrows creasing, Kevin leaned forward, “What stopped you?”
“Charlie was so thrilled to have Husk and Niffty join the staff, to see her dream start to come together, I just couldn’t do it.” Fidgeting a bit in her seat, Vaggie sighed, “And then, well, Husk actually sat with me and reminded me about how wine and mead are not the sins, but how they’re abused.
So, I asked Charlie to set a rule about drinking.
Not to abuse it.”
“Except for Angel Dust?”
“I’d rather he be drunk than do drugs,” Vaggie’s eyes misted slightly, “And with how Valentino treats him…”
“Yeah, I agree,” Kevin scowled, “He’s another one I’d like to force break a deal with.”
“It can’t be done, though,” Vaggie shook her head, “Force breaking a soul-binding contract would kill the one bound, much in the same way angelic steel does.”
“I didn’t know,” Looking over his shoulder in the direction of the hotel, Kevin whispered, “Charlie…”
“She’s different,” Vaggie knew his thoughts, “She’d survive.
But the broken deal would mark her, weaken her.” She sighed, “Only when she fulfills Alastor’s wish will she be free of him.”
“And if he dies?” Kevin turned to look at her, his eyes narrowing.
“Don’t think it,” Vaggie warned.
“You could mar your relationship with Charlie for good.
You taught her the value of redemption, and she believes Al could be redeemed.
Don’t take that from her.
Not even for her soul.”
“But,” Kevin insisted on the answer, “If he died, what happens to Charlie?”
“She’d be free of the deal,” Vaggie answered slowly, “with no repercussions.”
Before he could respond, the waitress returned and set the wine glasses down between them, then left without a word.
Kevin watched her retreat.
Picking up his glass, he swirled it and muttered, “I see.” He caught the look she gave him, and he shrugged, “Fine, I’ll behave.
But, I’m keeping my eye on him.”
“Good, cause if I did, I’d be blind,” Vaggie stated calmly.
A beat passed, then Kevin laughed loudly, “Okay, just for that, you earn a point.
Not only did you put me in my place, but that was damn funny.”
Laughing now, Vaggie shook her head.
“Wait, so dad jokes win points, too?”
“Why not?” Kevin offered a light shrug, then winked deviously.
“If you need the handicap.” Point to me, he thought.
This time, it was Vaggie who needed the beat, and then her face curled into a growl, “No fucking fair.”
Sticking his tongue out, Kevin took a sip of his wine, “I never said I was going to play fair, now did I?”
Features softening quickly, Vaggie raised her glass, “To a challenge, then.”
They clicked glasses and sipped in silence.
When they finished, Kevin leaned back in his seat.
“So what’s next?
What else is there to do in Hell for entertainment?”
Vaggie’s eye gleamed with mischief.
“Well… there is something I’ve been wanting to see.
A show.”
“A show?”
“There’s this demon—Diax.
He’s… kind of a legend in the entertainment district.
Son of an Overlord, but he doesn’t follow in his father’s footsteps, like most children of Overlords are supposed to.
Instead, he creates these amazing shows and experiences for sinners.
Escape rooms where you solve clues or die.
Fashion shows that push boundaries.
And tonight—” She pulled out a flier from her pocket.
“—he’s doing something called ‘Eternal Reverie.’ It’s supposed to be incredible.”
Kevin studied the flier.
It showed a silhouette of a demon against a backdrop of stars and flames, the text promising “An evening of wonder, danger, and delight.”
“You want to go to a demon show,” Kevin said slowly.
“I want to go to this demon’s show,” Vaggie corrected.
“Diax is different.
He’s not about torture or suffering.
He’s about… spectacle.
Beauty.
Giving people a reason to feel something other than despair.” She looked at him hopefully.
“What do you say?”
Picking up his glass, Kevin finished his drink, smiled with interest, and gestured toward the door.
“Lead the way.”