Achieving Heaven Through Hell Part 1: A Peaceful Afterlife

Chapter 8

Any feedback on this series is welcome. I'm running off of 90% conjecture here, if anything feels out of place or whatever, you let me know.

Also, I might add that Edward Bosco's voice is an absolute JOY to write in. It's a little spooky writing for Alastor as it always just sort of takes on a life of its own.

Chapter 8: A Higher Power

Vaggie buried her head in her hands.

What was that all about?

She...Charlie...they were going to...

"Fuck," Vaggie grumbled, pushing her fingers through her hair.

She loved Charlie, in every way possible. There was nothing she wouldn't do for her, she'd kill for her, commit atrocities for her, she'd do things for Charlie that Charlie would, no, could never ask of her. She was the one decent, good thing in this entire hellscape, the one truly pure person in all Hell or, really, all of creation. That someone like her could even exist would have boggled Vaggie's mind back on Earth, much less the fact that she'd have to go to Hell itself to meet her. That she was lucky enough to call Charlie her friend was nothing short of a miracle.

A finger tapped on her shoulder. Vaggie looked over and saw nothing. She turned back and saw something out of the corner of her eye, something terrible. An angular horror of teeth and antlers, red eyes leering out from a swirling mass of black, squirming, verminous shapes. It ate color and cast not shadows, not darkness, but the death of light itself, black like a star's corpse. A long, slender hand slunk out in front of her and plucked an octopus ball off her plate. The horrible shape coalesced in an instant into something more humanoid, his wide, crescent grin cracked apart and popped the fried lump of batter past those sharp, yellow teeth.

"Alastor," Vaggie growled. "What are you doing here?"

"Just popped in for a snack," Alastor crooned, chewing loudly in her ear. "Mmmm! Now, I've never been one for oriental food, but shucks, buster, if this isn't a treat! Tell me, how's the new resident faring?"

"Turns out he's a murderous psychopath who chops off people's hands," Vaggie said, getting to her feet. "You'd like him."

"Doubt it!" Alastor said. "Mr. Clean always was something of a sourpuss. But out of all of them I never would have thought he'd even consider redemption. What a humdinger of a turn-up!"

Vaggie slammed his fist on the table. "You know something about all of this, don't you?! Tell me what's going on!"

Alastor chuckled in a hair-raising fashion, the sense of amusement was genuine, but the malice within shone like a beacon. "Ever the intrepid guard dog, I see. Ah, it's so grand when schemes pile up! The thrill of keeping both boxcars on track even as they smash into one another! The chill of seeing a long-term plans go off the tracks! The sweet satisfaction when they all merge together, trollies and boxcars and cabooses and locomotives, all hop on the same track and go along their merry way! It's scheme synergy! And to think, all it took was a gag-call to one of Ol' Snorkel's dogs! Ho ho ho ho!"

"What the Hell are you talking about?!" Vaggie exclaimed.

Alastor shook his head and walked out of the room, brushing past Charlie as he did. "Just that la vie est drôle, and if you can't laugh you'll go daffy! So crack a smile while you can!"

Alastor chortled to himself as he set off down the hall to the rec-room. Charlie walked over to Vaggie, her expression that of concern and more than a little nervousness.