Apologies in advance for my hair (I was trying to avoid breaking a hard-earned gel cast) and supreme awkwardness (nothing can fix that).

Fremdschämen: Composed of fremd, ‘foreign, external’, and schämen, ‘to be ashamed’, the term denotes the embarrassment you feel for someone who has embarrassed themselves. Fremdschämen is when you feel uncomfortable or awkward, because another person has created an embarrassing situation.

This is one of several chapters I feel the need to apologize in advance for (on Grace's behalf). You'll know why when you get there.

The next day, Grace had gotten tipsy just in time to meet another of the hotel’s resident guests—a lanky Asian girl with fox ears, rose gold eyes, black dreadlocks with powder pink highlights, and the fluffiest tail to end all fluffy tails. She wore an asymmetrical black leather ensemble with neon pink accents, and sported thick glasses with rose gold, cat-eye frames to accent her eyes. A variety of gold and silver hoop earrings decorated her ears. It was as if science fiction, punk rock, and mixed metals threw up all over her.

“Hey Husk!” She paused at the bar just beside Grace. “Can I get a pair of drinks, please?”

Husker sidled over, plopping two empty glasses on the bar. He began filling them.

The cyberpunk fox tilted her head at Grace. “Well hello there, fresh meat!”

She extended a black-gloved hand with a wicked grin. “I’m Kofax.”

Grace introduced herself with a feeble croak of her own name. And despite her better judgment, she actually accepted Kofax’s hand for an introductory shake. 

“Hot date tonight?” Husk asked Kofax as he slid the two filled glasses toward her.

“Nope,” she laughed. “Both mine!” Kofax clinked the rims together and walked off with a laugh, her tail caressing Grace’s leg as she past. “See you biatches later!”

Husk proved he had an undeniably remarkable talent for making some degree of inebriation so … accessible.

Did that really make him ‘Hell’s Top Bartender?’ Grace had little frame of reference but was certainly starting to come around to accepting that idea. So far, in her short time at the Hazbin Hotel, that radio ad she’d heard back in her apartment had proven itself accurate. And if Alastor had anything to do with it —

Okay. So he’s not necessarily a liar. Doesn’t mean he’s trustworthy. Or benign.

Bottle of booze in hand, Grace lounged on one of the plush sofas near the pool table where Angel Dust and Vaggie played a heated game of Eight Ball. There was some bet hinging upon the outcome of this contest, but Grace had joined too late to know what that was.

So when Charlie described Vaggie as her ‘guardian angel,’ that hadn’t been just an endearing nickname; Grace gleaned from the conversation that Vaggie had been, in the past, an actual angel. If they could fall still as Lucifer had, did that mean souls could be redeemed out of Hell?

Other souls, of course. Grace knew there was no redemption for her.

Angel Dust was a porn star. Like, apparently, a really famous one indentured to the reigning king of porn, Valentino, who was—Grace just learned—one leg of the Demon Overlord triad known as the Vees.

Grace thought to seek out one of his films but really didn’t need to be made horny in a space where she couldn’t safely act on her libido with another soul. Yeah, sure, masturbation was a thing, but she’d always found partnered sex to be far superior. There was just something about the feeling of a man’s body crushing hers into a mattress that was pure, sinful perfection.

My libido’s gotten me into enough trouble already.

The dumb thing had written her ticket to damnation, and the eternal punishment of being alone.

Angel Dust and Husk appeared to have some sort of relationship. Whether it was well-defined yet was Grace’s best guess. But Angel was clearly into Husk. And maybe Husk reciprocated but was just better at hiding it where others could see. Or maybe he hadn’t sorted his own feelings out yet.

Charlie and Vaggie had each other.

One could, in theory, find love in Hell if those souls had.

A morsel of hope grew in Grace’s chest.

Meeting someone and developing a relationship would require her to socialize, which would be easier thought than done.

From the outside looking in, these sinners didn’t seem all that objectionable from a friendship standpoint. I could try.

I should try.

She swallowed a sigh. I need to try.

And so, on the day Charlie gave Grace space and didn’t ask her to join the hotel’s activities, Grace finally sat down among the group. Notably absent: one tall, dark, and eldritch fiend.

That same day, another unfamiliar face joined them: a skinny-curvaceous, white-skinned cyclops with an X-shaped pupil and a crazy amount of long, strawberry blonde-pink hair styled in a high half-ponytail the likes of which Grace had worn as a pre-teen.

She introduced herself to Grace as “Cherri,” and judging by how they ribbed each other, she and Angel Dust were best friends.

Cherri was as outgoing as Grace was introverted, and oddly enough, Grace didn’t object to her. 

Cherri and Kofax didn’t seem half bad on the surface.

“I thought for today,” Charlie said as she sat among the group, “especially with our newcomer, we could share some of our favorite things!”

One of Angel Dust’s many arms shot up. “Me first!”

Charlie grinned and nodded to him.

“My favorite thing is sex!” he announced, to nobody’s surprise. He glanced toward Husk, sitting immediately to his right. “You next, Whiskers.”

Husk scowled but commented, “I like to gamble.”

Again, nobody seemed all that surprised.

To Husk’s right was Cherri and she didn’t wait to be prompted: “My favorite thing is partying!”

Kofax, with a Voxbook open on her lap, had parked herself between Cherri and Vaggie. “I love finding new ways of using technology to make people piss themselves in frustration.” She typed furiously on her laptop and then laughed hysterically. “Take that for a while, Shitter!”

Nobody seemed the least bit surprised by that, either. Nobody except Grace, of course, who was starting to have some doubts about her assessment that Kofax wasn’t half bad.

Vaggie, to Kofax’s right—and Grace’s left, she realized with marked dread—volunteered, “I love Charlie.”

Charlie blushed hard and the rest of the group replied to that assertion with groans or awww’s.

All eyes turned to Grace and her mind went blank.

It was her hindbrain to answer Charlie’s topic of discussion: “I like the company of men.”

That evoked quite the response from the group, although she didn’t know if they were surprised at her answer or that she answered.

Grace’s hindbrain, apparently, was quite the chatterbox once the rest of her brain had been drowned in alcohol. “Like … I really like the company of men. Like. A lot. Of men. And a lot of their company.”

Niffty’s eye lit up as she spring-boarded from Grace’s answer: “I like bad boys!”

“I like big boys!” Angel added, a grin spreading across his face.

Husk simply smirked.

Yep. Definitely something going on between them.

“So!” Cherri leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “What’s your type? Let’s see if we can’t get ya girl laid!”

“I have access to every dating profile on every dating site in every ring of Hell,” Kofax piped up. “You say the word, and the man of your choice is yours!”

Grace had never considered that she had a type until she reflected on it. “Come to think of it—”

“Yesssss,” Angel Dust moaned.

Grace guessed, “Because I said ‘come?’”

“You know it!” he laughed.

“I had a weakness. Around my height,”—because for some reason, it embarrassed her to admit she always fell for the shorter men, “and musclebound.” Grace had trolled gyms for sex partners on more than one occasion. The more steroid-ridden, the better, she’d realized before long.

“Jealous,” she went on with a heavy sigh, “and prone to violence.” Which in retrospect most certainly had to do with that steroid business. 

Not only had she been a frequent visitor to the gym while still alive, she’d seen the inside of emergency room triage more times than she could recount. The group fell silent as Grace took another swig from her bottle of Loosen-Up Juice. “I … I always thought that … maybe? If they wanted to keep me around badly enough, they’d change for me.”

In the ensuing silence, Grace chose to address Charlie. “I just knew I could fix them, y’know?” That misguided belief was likely part and parcel of the same traits that drove her to her nursing career.

“Did they?” Cherri asked quietly. “Change for you, I mean.”

Grace focused on the closed-toe stilettos she wore on her dainty hooves that day. “Only one ever changed for me: the most boring, milquetoast man you'd ever meet. Wouldn’t raise his voice no matter how angering the situation, always seemed completely unruffled by anything. Pool needed draining to the tune of a grand because our maintenance guy sucked ass and neglected it for a month? No big. I T-boned a van with his beloved truck because I was too distracted giving my Passenger Prince a Handy-J? Whatevs.”

“Oh, Charlie!” Angel said, his eyes glittering despite Grace’s expression. “I don’t know where you got this one, but she’s fun!”

Vaggie hushed him and shook her head in disdain.

Grace chewed on her lip before adding, “That laid-back man is the reason I'm here.” Let them interpret that however they will. She doubted anyone would be brave enough to press her for details. “Wow. Didn’t realize how much baggage I’ve got. Sorry for derailing the conversation.”

“No need to apologize,” Charlie replied. “I’m just happy you shared something about yourself. We’ve all been eager to get to know you!” With a big smile, she said, “My favorite thing? Watching people open up and grow.”

Feeling like she was the subject of Charlie’s current ‘favorite thing’ made Grace want to retreat right back into her shell. But the other hotel residents had no such interest in allowing it.

“So what was your most memorable date?” Cherri asked.

Polishing off her bottle of booze, Grace leaned back in her chair. “I found myself an Old Money Sugar Daddy for a few months. He offered to fly me around on his private jet. Who’d be dumb enough to say ‘no’ to an offer like that, right?”

The group murmured in agreement. 

“That was during my phase when I was absolutely obsessed with all things true crime.” She’d had a specific hyperfixation she failed to identify for fear of judgment by … other sinners in Hell. Nonetheless, she kept it to herself. “He took me on a tour of old graveyards through the south.”

“How romantic!” Niffty sighed.

Grace lifted an eyebrow with a smirk. She’d thought so too. 

Simply reminiscing about Sam brought memories of his thick arms wrapped tightly around her waist to pull her close. Of all things she missed from her lifetime, intimacy was probably the thing she longed for most although that was subject to change based upon how horny she was in the moment.

“What he lacked in brains, he made up for in girth.” Grace glanced at the empty bottle in her hands with wide eyes, appalled at herself for what she’d just said aloud. Hell or not, what the fuck?! “And that’s enough of that.” She set the empty bottle down and leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest.

Angel turned big, pleading eyes on Charlie. “Can we keep her? Please?”

Despite herself, Grace laughed.

Charlie could not have looked more pleased with herself.

Much to perpetually-tipsy-Grace’s chagrin, once she’d polished off that drink, the group up and moved to the bar as conversation continued.

She sat at the far end of the bar, hoping to avoid Husk’s attention and offers for more to drink just until she sobered at least a little bit. Surely she could say ‘no,’ but where was the fun in that?

“So what surprised you most about Hell when you first arrived?” Charlie asked the group.

“How I look,” Angel Dust answered first, although he didn’t elaborate.

“No periods,” said Grace. “I was sure Hell would be like … checking in to the Red Roof Inn and never checking out. Shark Week, every week, for eternity. Riding the cotton pony and never being allowed to dismount.”

Angel Dust turned a bit green in the face. “Oh fuck, please stop!”

“And, and! It would be like having endometriosis, uterine fibroids, adenomyosis, pelvic inflammatory disease, and ovarian cysts all at the same time …” Grace continued despite Angel Dust’s plea. “And! The only gynecologists in Hell are sadistic men who get off on gaslighting their patients.”

“So … you mean like things were when we were alive?” Cherri replied.

Grace answered, “Yes … But nonstop.”

“Hey, wait.” Kofax leaned forward, resting her elbows on the bar. “Y’know … that’s a really good point. Why don’t we have periods down here?”

Charlie hesitantly replied, “Sinners are infertile … Part of their punishment is that they can’t have babies …”

“I dunno …” Cherri laughed, raising her glass in a toast. “Seems like a win/win/win to me! No periods, no babies, no need for birth control!”

“30 STDs like this,” Grace muttered.

Kofax practically snorted her drink out her nose.

As conversation moved off that topic, Husk approached Grace, leaning on his bar top and lowering his voice. “You’re braver than you give yourself credit for.”

“Think you got me all figured out already, do you?” Grace replied.

“It’s a gift.” Husk glanced at Angel Dust briefly before addressing Grace again. “You’re doin’ good, kid. It’s hard for everyone at first.”

Grace chuckled. “Good thing Angel didn’t hear that ‘hard.’ Say, Just Husk … Is it gauche to ask you for a cup of milk? Do you have milk here?”

“Ma’am, this is Hell, not a Taco Bell.”

She burst out laughing louder than intended.

Husk’s gaze flickered above her head.

There was that feeling again, the electric zings down her spine and arms, the lead weight pressing her shoulders toward the floor. “… He’s behind me, isn’t he?”

“Not …” Husk faltered. “… right … behind you.”

Grace glanced over her shoulder.

Alastor was on the second story landing, leaning on the railing while watching the group from afar. Niffty had gone to talk to him rather than drink with the rest of them. That was probably for the best considering how tiny she was. A thimble of wine would probably knock her flat on her ass. 

Niffty climbed all over Alastor as if she were a child and he was a jungle gym. Judging by his perpetually smiling face, he couldn’t care less about her invasion of his personal space. That would almost be endearing if it was anyone other than Alastor.

Vaggie sat down beside Grace. “Thanks for participating.”

The alcohol didn’t leave me much choice. Grace elected to reply with a much more tactful, “It was my pleasure.”

Husk brought Grace her milk and Vaggie a much harder drink. “Alcohol may not solve your problems, but neither will milk,” she remarked. 

“At least milk won’t lower my inhibitions more than they already are. I know you all want me opening up but I’d prefer to leave some things a mystery.”

“I can respect that.” Vaggie reached for the glass with her right hand but recoiled with a hiss.

“Are you okay?” Grace asked.

Vaggie grit her teeth and held up her hand to show Grace her palm. “Yeah, it’s just a bragging scar that doesn’t like the cold.”

Grace lifted her hand toward Vaggie’s. ‘Listen, my dear, let's keep your little talents just between us, shall we?’ Fearing what might happen if she did otherwise, she stuffed her hands between her thighs to resist the temptation to help. “Looks like it was painful.”

“Angelic Steel is a bitch and a half. You don’t want to have anything to do with it.”

“I can only imagine how that feels.” Grace bit her lip and swallowed hard, annoyed with herself that she was following Alastor’s creepy direction without any real reason to do so.

Vaggie laughed it off. “Don’t worry about me. I’m tough; it only hurts when I live.”

Grace glanced back as casually as she possibly could, which wasn’t very casually at all since she had no excuse to look over her shoulder other than to see if Alastor was still watching them—which she knew he was without confirming it visually.

But the look on his face.

She hoped that smile meant he was pleased. Not that it mattered, but it was probably better to please him than to not.

Niffty told him something. He nodded, his eyebrows darting upward. He replied, and she nodded. Then he looked back down at Grace, his grin widening but his eyes narrowing.

Whatever that exchange was about, whatever that expression meant, it couldn’t spell good news for her.

Grace was slowly resigning herself to the reality of her situation; she was going nowhere fast. And so, a week after arriving at the Hazbin Hotel, she began pushing herself beyond her comfort zone. She knew, if there was any hope for her finding happiness in Hell, it would be here and she’d have to put in the effort.

The first step on her self-imposed twelve step journey was to wean herself off her dependence on Husk’s drinks. Sure, they made opening up easier, sleeping at night sounder, and conversations far more entertaining.

But this wasn’t Grace. And they kept asserting they wanted to get to know her.

With each new day, she forced herself to go down and be among the hotel guests a few minutes earlier.

She was up to a full hour of extra exposure now, and finding common threads with each of them little bit by little bit.

This morning—seventy minutes earlier than her first self-imposed challenge day—Grace paused at the top of the stairs before descending. 

They were talking about her. Her name hadn’t been invoked but the topic was clear:

Angel Dust, the girlfriend Grace had always wanted in life, asked Husk, “Why do you think he lured her here?”

‘Lured.’ The word settled in the pit of her stomach like rotted meat. She clenched the railing, claws sinking into the wood.

“I have no idea,” Husk replied. “To attempt to understand Alastor’s motives is to court insanity. But if I had to guess, seems to me he’s playing the long con with this one.”

‘Long con.’

‘This one.’

She genuinely couldn’t pick a least-favorite word of the array.

Grace retreated a few steps, thinking back to that look Alastor had given her while chatting with Niffty. Nothing had come of that yet to the best of her knowledge. Maybe nothing ever would.

But she knew she would never be so lucky.

The thought of overhearing more speculation was unbearable, so Grace tromped down the stairs to announce her presence.

All heads turned her way and, as expected, conversation came to an abrupt halt.

Standing at the bar was yet another new soul. “And this must be the ‘her’ you were talking about,” he said.

Husk and Angel Dust looked appropriately mortified he called them out like that.

Grace might have taken a moment to assure them they had no reason to be embarrassed but she was more than a bit distracted by the newcomer.

He stood her height, more slender than her usual type, with porcelain-white skin and charming rosy cheeks.  His red and white attire evoked images of a circus ringmaster, blonde hair like Charlie’s poking out from beneath a towering white top hat encircled with a snake and apple crown. He grinned dazzling, sharp white teeth at her and in a heartbeat, Grace was smitten.

This was quite possibly the sexiest sinner she’d ever seen.

Before she could think better of her choices, Grace approached him with a hefty sway in her hips and a dazzling smile of her own.

Charlie introduced her. “This is Grace. She’s our newest resident!”

Grace leaned in, pressing her chest to his as she whispered in his ear, “Listen, you’re the hottest thing in Hell and I’m the horniest thing in Hell. So I'm gonna make this real easy on you. I’m in room 1408. If you come upstairs with me, you're gonna get the most memorable lay of your afterlife.”

He leaned away, his already large, light yellow eyes widening further.

She winked.

“Um … Grace? That’s … my dad,” Charlie said, her eyes just about as wide as his. “Lucifer.”

The hotel fell away around Grace in a hiss.

Lucifer. 

The king of Hell.

“That was, uh … quite the offer … but no, thank you,” Lucifer replied with a crooked smile.

Grace thought she’d been punched in the chest; a vaguely familiar feeling followed by an eerie memory. Wetness seeping down her torso. And then an agony she knew well but prayed she’d never experience again.

She groaned, pressing her hand to her throbbing chest before fleeing up the stairs, passing a tall, slender shadow just outside her bedroom door.

A look in the mirror revealed her biggest fear: her lethal wound had reopened. This had happened once before following the only other time she’d put her moves on someone. And like Lucifer, that sinner had rejected her, too.

It had happened twice now under the exact same circumstances but it was enough for Grace to figure this was part of her eternal punishment; rejection caused her to relive that agony anew.

She sat on her bed in nothing more than fresh underwear, keeping her hand pressed to the injury between her breasts to heal it.

Never again, she vowed, even if it means being alone for the rest of eternity. I deserve that.

Grace smacked herself in the forehead with her other hand. “I can’t believe I fucking came on to Lucifer. In front of everyone. I’m the biggest idiot that’s ever existed.”

With a heavy sigh, she flopped over backward onto her bed, hoping the pain in her chest might ebb before dinner. Her embarrassment sure wouldn’t.

Despite every cell in her being begging and pleading Grace to stay holed up in her room, she forced herself to go downstairs for dinner, a gentle throb lingering in her chest but at least the old stab wound had reknit itself closed by then.

Her humiliation was as fresh as ever, the heat in her cheeks rivaling the weather outside.

It was the usual group around the dinner table, plus—unfortunately—Alastor.

A freshly healed wound and feeling weak in more ways than one put Grace on higher guard around him than she already was. If he could smell her fear, which of course he could, he undoubtedly knew she was more vulnerable than usual. Although she washed up and the wound was closed, she bet he could smell the blood on her like a shark. A t-rex? Leech? Bat? Mosquito?

So she put as much space between them as the table allowed. Luckily, this wasn’t unusual behavior for her and drew no unwanted attention from the usual suspects.

Unfortunately, Charlie was the one to sit beside her. She was the third to last soul Grace wanted any exposure to right now—first being Lucifer, and a close second, Alastor.

“I am so sorry about earlier,” Charlie whispered. “I thought you knew—”

Grace waved her apology off. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s got into me recently.”

Yes. She did know: A combination of actually feeling again plus all the sex talk with Angel Dust had made her the most hard-up sinner in Hell. But blaming someone else for problems that had plagued her lifetime would do nobody any good. She also didn’t want to get Angel Dust in trouble; she liked him. Quite a lot, actually.

Still had yet to watch any of his films although her curiosity about them mounted.

Charlie smiled. “I think it’s a good thing.”

Alastor was watching them. Closely.

Ignore it.

“How so?” Grace challenged.

“I think it’s a sign you’re feeling at home here.”

“Huh.” Well, maybe it was also a little of that, too.

“For what it’s worth, he was flattered. You just caught him off guard.”

It could’ve been a yes, then? Grace’s heart thumped painfully in her already aching chest. She opened her mouth to ask that very question but Angel Dust saved her from embarrassing herself further.

“So,” the porn demon said loudly, threading the fingers of his top two hands together and leaning his chin on them. “Where was Mr. Creepy Voice today?” he asked, smarmy smile focused on Alastor. 

“Nowhere that concerns you, I’m sure,” Alastor replied, completely unbothered by Angel Dust’s attention.

“Well I’m sure you’ll be utterly heartbroken to know that you missed Lucifer. He visited us today,” Angel Dust added with a wicked glint in his eyes. “And your invited guest was utterly taken with him.”

Grace wanted to unalive herself.

In response to Angel’s goading, Alastor's ever-smiling expression remained unchanged save for a wrinkle of his cute little pointed nose.

She blinked, slowly setting her fork on her plate. That’s new.

“Something the matter?” Husk asked from a few chairs down.

Of course the fucker would notice her change in demeanor. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t eat meat,” Grace said, her voice more robotic than she intended. At least this deflection wasn’t all lie; she hadn’t been able to eat meat since she died, although she’d never been able to figure out why.

“You’re vegetarian?” Charlie gasped. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t even think to ask your preferences!”

Grace said, her words still stiff, “No need to apologize. You didn’t know.” What the fuck is wrong with me now?

She would have thought thirteen years in this god-forsaken place would be long enough to figure out her afterlife, but now, within the walls of the Hazbin Hotel, she was just left questioning everything.

Chapter 3: A Coup de Grâce

Chapter 5: Speak of the Devil

Stay sane, deer friends!