Chapter Text
It was not uncommon for a soul to enter Heaven and question if they should really be there.
Imposter syndrome was a typical condition for newcomers, almost expected when you considered the fact that these people were supposed to have earned their place here through merits like humility, self-critique and modesty.
“How did I get to Heaven? I always felt like I was really lazy and unmotivated back on Earth.”
“I had so much anger in me, I’m honestly surprised I made it up here!”
“I could be materialistic sometimes, and often selfish.”
“You think that’s bad? I felt like I was shameless when it came to casual sex, especially in my twenties.”
“I really was such a glutton!”
“I know what you mean – I was vain my whole life. I look back on it and cringe at how full of myself I could be.”
“I was jealous,” Vaggi muttered.
She said it only to herself one afternoon, sitting alone in the warmth of the everlasting sunshine.
I was jealous.
So many times, and so fucking intensely. That’s a sin, isn’t it?
As it turned out, no one was quite sure.
Envy was a sin, of course – wanting things that weren’t yours in a voracious and inconsiderate way.
But jealousy was slightly different; jealousy was the deep-rooted, aggrieved and painfully insecure fear that someone was going to take what was rightfully yours.
“I don’t think jealousy is a sin,” another one of the Exorcist recruits told Vaggi once, in the early days of their conscription. “Wanting to protect a committed relationship is good and moral.”
But then why had it never felt that way back on Earth?
Every time Vaggi saw a possible threat to the bond she shared with a special someone, there was nothing honourable about the resentment that flooded her body and pumped through her veins.
The bitter warmth in her blood that made her skin crawl and sometimes drew impatience from her partners – coupled with eye-rolling and a heavy sigh.
“Why can’t you just trust me?”
I know. I’m sorry. It’s just-
“It’s in the Bible,” the same recruit said confidently, and her words stuck with Vaggi for a long, long time. “Exodus 34:14, I think. It says ‘Do not worship any other god, for the Lord, whose name is Jealous, is a jealous God’. How can it be a sin if God is jealous?”
But I’m not God, Vaggi thought.
She thought it more than once over the years.
She thought it repeatedly, whenever her brain grappled again with the nature of this feeling she struggled so much with.
I’m not God, I was just a regular human.
I’m not God, I’m just like any other Winner.
I’m not God, I’m just an Exorcist.
I’m not God, I’m just-
…
I’m not God, I’m just a fallen angel.
There was a small, almost inaudible part of Vaggi’s brain that took a horrifying comfort in the fact she had ended up in Hell after all.
See? It was always a mistake that I made it to Heaven.
No matter what else I was, I was jealous first.
***
“I just don’t get it,” Charlie complained, rubbing a hand over her tired face. “It’s a good thing that we’re working together with Heaven, that they’re finally on board with redemption.”
She lifted her glass, then sighed and placed it back down in a rough, restless motion.
Husk watched her from the other side of the bar, his attention half focused on what she was saying and half focused on organising the tumblers and shot glasses in front of him.
Charlie’s head thumped with fatigue and temperate pain, the remnants of another long morning at the now-bustling hotel.
From dawn until dusk, guests swarmed the lobby like students passing through a college campus. They moved between counselling appointments, therapeutic roleplay, scheduled breaks and group sessions – each step bringing them closer to salvation.
Or so they all hoped.
Running the hotel had become much more rewarding with all the new guests, but it had been much more demanding too and that’s why the help from Heaven was so appreciated.
“So why does she get so mad when Emily shows up? Is it just the idea of angels at the hotel in general that makes her uncomfortable? Or is it-?”
“It’s jealousy,” Husk said, so decisively that a short silence punctuated his words like a full stop.
He didn’t look up from cleaning glasses and Charlie watched the almost hypnotic movement of his hands as she considered his comment.
“You think Vaggi is jealous of Emily?”
The bartender looked up then, snorted and gave her a disbelieving look as if this was all obvious.
“Hell yeah,” he guaranteed her. “Fallen girl loathes herself for a whole mess of reasons, but jealousy tops the list. Or maybe she’s so jealous because there’s a list – she feels like you could always leave her for someone better.”
“There’s no one better,” Charlie replied at once. “Emily is just a good friend; she’s championing our cause up in Heaven and helping the hotel with-”
“I know,” Husk cut her off in a gentle voice, as he whipped the cloth into another glass. “You don’t need to explain all that to me. I was just telling you that your girlfriend is jealous, that’s all.”
Another short silence elapsed as Charlie thought about this.
She wasn’t naïve enough to have completely overlooked Vaggi’s jealous tendencies over the years; it’s just that they usually appeared at reasonable times.
Regardless of the population’s respect for the royal family, Charlie was often coveted by citizens as a notch in the bedpost – even just so that they could have a story to tell their friends afterwards, or carry around the mantle of having banged the Princess of Hell.
When she was approached in a bar or a restaurant by someone shooting their shot, of course Vaggi would get guarded and hostile.
Although Charlie always made it clear to whoever it was that she wasn’t interested, it was still understandable for Vaggi to react the way she did.
In fact, Charlie admitted to herself, it was even a little bit sexy.
Vaggi valued their relationship so much that the thought of anyone compromising it was enough to drive her to instant anger, with a steady watchfulness that lingered for hours afterwards.
Not that anyone could take Charlie away from Vaggi. That wasn’t possible.
But it was still comforting to know how much she cared.
A guest who looked as tired as Charlie felt approached the bar asking for a whiskey sour so Husk gave the princess an affable nod before moving away.
She returned the friendly gesture and stayed still for another moment, unthinkingly drumming her fingers against the bartop before hopping up from the stool.
She made her way purposefully towards the hotel manager’s office, still ruminating on her and Husk’s exchange.
She feels like you could always leave her for someone better.
There’s no one better.
It was time for the Head Counselor to drive that point home.