Fractured Halos:
The dim glow of hellfire lanterns flickered through the hotel’s main office, casting long shadows across the walls. Vaggie stood in the doorway, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her grip on her spear tightening with every second that passed.
Charlie, seated at her desk, barely looked up as she flipped through a few papers. She knew Vaggie was there. She could feel her.
“We talked about this, Charlie,” Vaggie finally said, her voice low but firm. “You said you'd give them a chance to walk away, but instead, you—”
Charlie sighed, closing the folder with a soft thud. She met Vaggie’s gaze, her crimson eyes calm but unreadable. “I gave them a chance, Vaggie. They just didn’t take it. And you know what happens when people cross us.”
Vaggie took a step forward, her fingers gripping the fabric of her gloves. “That’s not the point! You didn’t even tell me! We’re supposed to be in this together, but sometimes it feels like I don’t even know what you’re thinking anymore!”
Charlie tilted her head, a small, almost sad smile curling at the edges of her lips. “You know exactly what I’m thinking, mi amor. You just don’t want to admit it.”
Vaggie’s chest tightened. She loved Charlie more than anything—her optimism, her kindness, her unwavering determination to make the hotel work. But then there were moments like this, moments where the weight of being Lucifer’s daughter pressed down on her shoulders, twisting her into something else.
“Is that what this is to you? A game?” Vaggie asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Charlie let out a soft chuckle, but it didn’t hold any real amusement. She leaned back in her chair, looking up at the ceiling. “No,” she said. “But if it was, I’d be winning.”
That was the last straw. Vaggie turned on her heel and stormed out, her heels hitting the floor harder than necessary.
Charlie’s smile disappeared as soon as she was alone. She dropped her head into her hands, exhaling slowly.
She hated fighting with Vaggie. But deep down, she wondered—was she losing more than just an argument.
Fractured Halos: lost light
After a few hours Charlie notices something.
The hotel was to quite
Charlie sat at her desk, staring at the door, waiting for it to open—waiting for Vaggie to come back. But hours passed, and the unease in her chest started to morph into something darker.
Vaggie always came back. No matter how angry she was, she never left for long.
Charlie tried to tell herself that Vaggie just needed time. That she was somewhere cooling off, waiting for Charlie to apologize. But as the minutes ticked by, that reasoning began to crumble.
Something was wrong.
Charlie stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor as she bolted toward the door. She barely registered Nifty’s voice calling after her as she stepped into the lobby, her gaze scanning for any sign of white hair, of a pink sash, of her.
“Husk,” she called, voice sharp, urgent. “Have you seen Vaggie?”
Husk looked up from his drink, ears twitching at her tone. “Not since your little spat.”
Charlie’s stomach twisted. She turned to Angel, who was lounging on the couch, scrolling through his phone. “Angel?”
He glanced up. “Uh, no? Thought she was just sulkin’ in your room or somethin’.”
Charlie felt something snap inside her.
Vaggie isn’t here.
The realization hit her like a punch to the gut. The tension she had been holding back all night finally burst, her patience shredding like paper.
Without another word, she stormed toward the door.
“Whoa, where are you going?” Husk called after her.
Charlie didn’t stop. She didn’t even look back as she threw the doors open, stepping out into the dark streets of Hell.
Her crimson eyes burned.
If Vaggie wasn’t in the hotel, then Charlie would find her. And if anything had happened to her—
Some poor soul was going to learn exactly why they called her the Princess of Hell.
Fractured Halos: Wrath of a Princess
The streets of Hell trembled beneath Charlie’s steps.
Her patience had already snapped back at the hotel, but now—now she was livid. Her eyes burned a bright, hellish crimson, her normally soft features twisted into something dangerous.
She had searched everywhere. The bars, the clubs, the back alleys, even the rooftops. Nothing. Every demon she had interrogated had only seen Vaggie hours ago, which only made Charlie’s fury grow.
She wasn’t scared anymore. She was done.
Finally, she turned a corner and saw her.
Vaggie sat on the ledge of an abandoned building, staring at the neon skyline with a tired, distant look.
Charlie’s rage flared.
“VAGGIE!”
Vaggie barely had time to react before Charlie stormed toward her, her heels clicking against the pavement like gunshots.
“Are you out of your mind?!” Charlie yelled, her voice raw. “Do you have any idea what I’ve been through looking for you?!”
Vaggie blinked, startled by the sheer venom in Charlie’s voice. “Charlie, I just—”
“You left without a word! You weren’t at the hotel! No one had seen you! I thought—” Charlie’s hands clenched into fists at her sides. “I thought something happened to you, Vaggie! And you were just here?!”
Vaggie exhaled, her own frustration bubbling up. “I needed space, Charlie! After what you said, after how you acted—I needed time!”
Charlie’s jaw tightened. Her hands were shaking, her entire body practically radiating anger, but beneath it—buried deep—was something else.
Fear.
She had nearly torn Hell apart looking for Vaggie. She had imagined the worst. And here Vaggie was, perfectly fine while she had been losing her mind.
Charlie took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, but when she spoke, her voice was still sharp. “Next time you need space, you tell me. You don’t just disappear.”
Vaggie stood up, meeting Charlie’s burning gaze with her own. “You don’t get to control me, Charlie.”
Charlie’s expression darkened. For a moment, she looked just like her father.
“No,” she said, voice lower now. “But I do get to be mad as hell when the person I love leaves me thinking the worst.”
Vaggie flinched. The anger in Charlie’s voice was real, but the pain beneath it was worse.
Charlie turned away, exhaling harshly. “Let’s go home.”
For once, Vaggie didn’t argue.
She followed Charlie back, her own emotions tangled in a mess of guilt, frustration, and love. Charlie was still furious—Vaggie could feel it in every step she took.
But even through all that rage, Charlie had come for her.
That had to mean something.
Fractured Halos: Mending Flames
The walk back to the hotel was tense.
Charlie’s fists were clenched at her sides, her jaw tight, her heels clicking sharply against the pavement. She was still fuming.
Vaggie, walking beside her, didn’t say a word. She knew Charlie was mad—really mad—but she also knew she needed to let her cool down before saying anything.
When they finally reached the hotel, Charlie didn’t stop in the lobby or acknowledge anyone staring at them. She marched straight to their room, threw the door open, and stepped inside.
Vaggie followed, and the moment she shut the door behind her, Charlie spoke.
“You have no idea how much I want to scream at you right now.”
Vaggie sighed, rubbing her temples. “Then do it. You already started back there.”
Charlie did scream—an inhuman, frustrated yell muffled only by her hands. Then she turned, her eyes still burning, but there was something else there now. Something hurt.
“Do you even realize what you did to me, Vaggie?” Charlie’s voice cracked slightly. “Do you know what went through my head when I couldn’t find you?”
Vaggie’s shoulders tensed. “Charlie—”
“I thought you were dead!” Charlie cut her off, voice rising. “Or worse! I thought someone took you! I thought I was never going to see you again!”
Vaggie flinched. She had known Charlie was mad, but she hadn’t realized just how deep her fear had run.
Charlie let out a shaky breath, her voice quieter now. “I know we argue. I know we fight. But you can’t just disappear on me like that, Vaggie.”
Vaggie swallowed hard. “I didn’t think it would hurt you that much.”
Charlie scoffed, a humorless laugh escaping her lips. “Of course it hurt me! You’re my everything, Vaggie! You’re all I have!”
Vaggie’s heart clenched.
She took a slow step forward, then another, until she was close enough to gently take Charlie’s hands.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I was angry. I needed space. But I should’ve told you—I should’ve thought about how it would make you feel.”
Charlie sniffed, her anger finally fading into exhaustion. She squeezed Vaggie’s hands, her shoulders slumping. “I don’t want to lose you.”
Vaggie shook her head. “You won’t.”
Silence hung between them, heavy but no longer suffocating. Then, without another word, Charlie leaned forward, resting her forehead against Vaggie’s.
Vaggie closed her eye, letting the warmth of the moment settle between them.
The fire had burned hot, but it hadn’t consumed them.
They would always find their way back to each other.