Snow Angel (Alastor x OC)

•{Chapter 8}•

Mother of Many

Another sleepless night had allowed Harlene the time to consider how she would go about paying Alastor back for the dresses he'd bought her. Despite Alastor's odd behaviour the night before, Harlene wanted to relieve whatever stress he was under by getting rid of any possible financial burdens she'd given him after he'd treated her to the clothes. Therefore, at the wake of dawn, Harlene left the hotel, wearing a red cloak that Charlie had let her borrow, in search of the store that the dresses had been purchased from. Eventually, she'd come across the store and entered seemingly only minutes after the place had opened up for the day. Now, Harlene was faced with the owner of the store, a posh demon in a bright red pencil dress with a squared neckline and business-like sleeves. Her brown hair was dyed pink at the ends and held up in a high bun. Her large earrings were shaped like pentagrams and her eye sockets were pitch black. Freakishly, her lips were sewed together, but luckily for her, she had another mouth on her chest, which was revealed by the rectangular neckline of her outfit. The nametag she wore on her gown revealed her name: Madam Schmidt.

"I must admit, discovering that the Radio Demon had been in my shop that morning was quite alarming, but then I reminded myself that I've provided service for the Magne family themselves for centuries," Madam Schmidt was saying, grinning and rattling her nails against the surface of the counter. "You should be flattered that he bought you all those dresses. My work is not made for the financially inept."

Under the hood of the cloak, Harlene quietly gulped, and then asked, "So, how much was it all then?"

"$1,000,000," she purred.

"A-And, how much is that in pounds?"

"Around about £800,000."

Harlene had to stop herself from choking on her breath in horror and in turn fainting. She whimpered, "That much?"

"One lady to another, you are aware of how Hell works, aren't you? For a lady, it's practically impossible to provide for yourself down here in ways that don't involve giving a man oral sex," Madam Schmidt said. "Ever since my work was noticed by the King of Hell himself, I've made sure to take advantage of the fact that I can make a living here from my craft without having to succumb to prostitution like most of the unfortunate souls here in Hell have."

"I understand. Thank you for your time."

Taking a deep breath, Harlene dipped her head to the demoness as a hurried goodbye and then exited the store. Once she left, she darted into the nearest alleyway and leaned up against the side of one of the buildings that created it. Sighing, Harlene gripped onto the sides of the hood and tugged it off of her head, then she raised her face towards the sky.
Where am I supposed to get £800,000?

❄

That afternoon, Harlene was sat at the end of the bar with her sketchbook open and a pencil in hand. As she drew the bottles situated on the back shelves of the bar, Harlene tried to figure out how she would go about earning enough money to pay Alastor back. She was also rather angry at Alastor for not telling her that he'd brought her to an extremely expensive store which somewhat alluded to the idea that Harlene wouldn't be able to pay him back if she tried. But as Harlene usually did, she drowned herself in her artwork in order to express her frustrations in a healthier way than causing a scene similar to that of when she'd first arrived in Hell.
The petite demoness hadn't noticed it, but Husk was eyeing her work in astonishment from where he sat behind the bar a little way off. As per usual, he was sipping at a bottle of cheap booze. Yet he soon looked away when the sound of stilettos tapped against the reception floor as Angel Dust made his way towards Harlene. He gasped when he saw her work and snatched the sketchbook from her, resulting in the pencil leaving behind a long scar of graphite across the page. Harlene widened her eyes in fright at the suddenness of the event and her pupils tightened as she realised Angel Dust was looking at her work.