Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Vox tried to open his door as quietly as possible. When it opened, he cautiously poked his head out and scanned the hallway. Empty. He let out a deep breath and slowly closed the door behind him. Just as he was turning the key to lock it, he heard the door of the opposite apartment open.

He already knew that sound. He had been living here for a week, and the same thing happened every time. The exact moment he thought the hallway was clear and tried to leave, the door across the hall would open and that man would appear. Every single time. As if he could see through walls, as if he knew exactly when Vox would breathe or take a step.

“Ah, neighbor,” Alastor’s voice spread through the corridor as Vox’s hand tightened around the key. There was something in his tone a cheerful note. As if seeing Vox genuinely pleased him. “I was just about to check the mailboxes. What a coincidence.”

Vox made a great effort not to turn and look at Alastor. “I’m… going to the market.” He fiddled with his key.

Alastor took one step forward. Just one step, from his doorway into the hallway. Even that small movement sent a cold sweat running down Vox’s spine. The man’s shoes made no sound. How was that possible? The old wooden floor of the hallway normally creaked with every step it creaked even when Vox walked in his own apartment but when Alastor walked, the floor stayed silent. This detail bothered Vox more than anything else.

“The market,” Alastor tilted his head slightly. “The little shop down the street, or the big one on the corner?”

It was a completely normal question, the kind two neighbors might exchange, but coming from Alastor, Vox felt a corner of his brain constantly sounding the alarm. He had heard the man was a cannibal. The Radio Demon. Even after death, he continued to eat other demons and he did it with pleasure, smiling the whole time and now he was asking Vox which market he was going to.

“The big one,” Vox finally dared to turn toward Alastor, but he fixed his gaze on the wall just above the man’s face, focusing on a crack in the plaster. “I need flour… and, uh, eggs.”

Alastor’s smile seemed to widen a little. Vox noticed it from the corner of his eye. “Are you going to bake a cake?”

No, Vox was not going to bake a cake. He had just tried to come up with a quick excuse, and now that excuse was growing out of control. Maybe he’d make an omelette. There was nothing left to eat at home, he really did need to go to the market, and why was this conversation dragging on so long?

“Pancakes,” Vox said. “Maybe. I’m not sure.”

He saw Alastor opened his mouth to say something, but right then they heard a door slam from the floor below, and both of them glanced in that direction. Vox seized the moment and took a step toward the stairs.

“I… should get going.”

As Vox headed for the stairs, he heard Alastor start walking in the same direction down the hallway. They weren’t walking side by side Alastor was a few steps behind but Vox could feel the man’s gaze on the back of his neck with every nerve ending.

When they reached the top of the stairs, Vox hesitated. Alastor had already turned toward the small alcove with the mailboxes and pulled a small key from his coat pocket. Vox watched him open his mailbox and take out a few envelopes.

“Neighbor,” Alastor said without lifting his head. “We should have coffee sometime. It would be nice to sit and get to know each other.”

The confident tone in his voice, the implication that everything was already decided, left no room for Vox to refuse. He knew he had to answer. He needed to say something immediately, or the silence would get worse.

“Maybe,” Vox replied. He wished he hadn’t. “Sometime. I’m actually pretty busy, I’m looking for a job and…”

“Of course.” Alastor finally looked up at Vox. “It’s hard for the newly fallen. It takes time to adjust.”

Vox hurried down the steps, and when he reached the ground floor he practically ran for the exit. When he pushed open the street door and stepped outside, the air filling his lungs had never felt so good.

It was dark outside. After a few steps, Vox paused and looked back at the building’s facade. One of the windows on the third floor was faintly lit, and a silhouette stood in front of it. Motionless. Watching.

Vox turned his head forward and started walking. He quickened his pace. He hoped he actually knew which direction the market was.

The trip back from the market took nearly an hour. It should have taken fifteen minutes, but Vox lingered between the aisles, examining things he didn’t need, reading product labels anything to stall. The hope that Alastor might not be in the building when he returned was enough to calm him. Maybe he had already left.

When he pushed open the apartment building’s entrance door, the silence inside felt promising. He gripped the paper bag tighter as he climbed the stairs. He passed the second floor landing and reached the third. He stepped into the hallway.

Alastor’s door was closed.

Vox felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. He headed to his own apartment, took out his key, unlocked the door, and went inside. The moment he closed the door behind him, he slid the deadbolt and put on the chain. Then he leaned his back against the door and stood there. His heart was still beating too fast.

He knew it was ridiculous. The guy was just a neighbor. Maybe a dangerous neighbor, maybe one of the most terrifying beings in Hell, but still just a neighbor. He had wanted to have coffee, not eat him. At least not yet.

Vox walked to the kitchen and set his groceries on the counter. Flour, eggs, milk. He had unconsciously bought everything needed to actually make pancakes. He stood in front of the counter staring blankly at the ingredients. Then he pulled out a chair and sat down, trying to convince himself that nothing was going to happen outside, that no one would knock on his door, that he was safe for the evening.

Right then, there was a knock at the door.

Three light taps. Polite, almost gentle in rhythm. Vox froze in his chair. He stopped breathing, as if that would hide the fact that he was inside. Ridiculous, he thought. The man had probably heard him come in. He definitely had.

“Neighbor?” Alastor’s voice came through the door, muffled but still carrying that cheerful tone. “I thought I’d check if you were having trouble carrying your bags. Paper bags tear sometimes, you know.”

Vox didn’t get up from the chair. He stared at the door. The chain was on. The deadbolt was drawn. He couldn’t get in. The door was solid. The building management had said the doors were sturdy, but this was Hell and everyone lied here.

“I’m fine,” Vox tried to make his voice sound as normal as possible. It felt like something was stuck in his throat. “Thanks.”

There was a short silence. In that silence, Vox imagined Alastor still standing right outside the door, maybe even leaning toward it, listening. He was afraid to even hear his own breathing.

“Well then,” Alastor’s voice came again, this time a little farther away, as if he had stepped back. “Have a good evening.”

Vox listened to his footsteps. Still silent. Still no creaking. But he heard the opposite apartment door open and close, the click echoing in the hallway. Then silence.

He stayed seated for a while longer. Maybe five minutes, maybe fifteen. Time felt strange here hours sometimes passed like minutes, minutes like hours but eventually he stood up, went to the kitchen, and started lining up the eggs on the counter. He was going to make pancakes. Because what else could he do?

The next day, things were quite different in the Hazbin Hotel lobby.

Alastor was pacing back and forth.

Husk stopped shuffling his cards and raised an eyebrow as he watched Alastor. This was unusual. The Radio Demon, the most controlled demon of all, was pacing in the lobby. He hadn’t stopped for fifteen minutes. “Something happen?”

Alastor stopped abruptly. Slowly, he turned to Husk. “What could possibly have happened, Husker? Everything is fine. Completely fine. Why would anything have happened?”

“You’re pacing,” said Husk. “I’ve never seen you pace before.”

“I’m not pacing,” Alastor’s smile tightened. “I’m walking. Walking is healthy. It improves blood circulation. Maybe you should try it sometime, Husker, instead of rotting in that chair.”

Husk just grunted and took another sip from his bottle, but he didn’t take his eyes off Alastor. He glanced sideways at Angel, who had also set down his nail file and was watching with interest. A look passed between them a silent “Are we thinking the same thing?”

Alastor started walking again, slower this time, as if trying to control himself, but his steps still hadn’t found their rhythm. He walked toward the couch as if to sit, but couldn’t. Then he headed toward the window.

Angel crossed his arms and planted himself right in the middle of Alastor’s path. Alastor almost bumped into him, stopped at the last second, and looked at Angel’s face.

“Move.”

“No.” Angel tilted his head. “I’m not moving until you tell me what’s going on. You’ve never been like this. I can’t even remember the last time I saw that panicked look on your face. Actually, I don’t remember it ever happening.”

“Panicked look? What panic?” Alastor adjusted his cravat a completely unnecessary movement since it was already perfect. “I’m not panicking. I’m just… thinking.”

Husk got up from the couch and set his bottle on the table. “Thinking about what?” He was genuinely curious. “Maybe we can help. Two heads are better than one or whatever.”

Alastor looked at both of them and he ran a hand through his hair another unusual gesture, since Alastor hated messing up his hair. “I have a new neighbor,” the words came out as if he was forcing them. “In the apartment building. Right across the hall.”

Angel and Husk exchanged another look. This answer wasn’t enough for either of them.

“And?” Angel leaned forward. “Why does having a neighbor make you pace around the lobby? Are you going to eat him? Did you decide to eat him? Because then I’d understand the pacing you’d be clearing your stomach.”

“I don’t want to eat him,” Alastor’s voice came out a little too loud. He cleared his throat and lowered it back to normal. “I mean, I have no intention of eating him. He’s just a neighbor. An ordinary neighbor.”

Husk smirked while Angel rested his hand on his chin. “What’s this neighbor like?” Angel asked. “Tall? Short? Handsome? What does he do?”

Alastor’s smile froze. “I don’t know,” his voice sounded strangely hoarse. “I mean, tall or average height. He’s looking for a job. Newly fallen and…”

“And?”

“He’s just a neighbor. An ordinary demon. There’s no problem with him. There’s no problem with me. There is no problem at all.”

Husk and Angel exchanged a third look. This one lasted longer maybe three seconds, maybe five. They had both understood the same thing, and that understanding materialized on their faces at the same time with the same knowing expression. Husk’s smirk was now impossible to hide, and Angel had pursed his lips as if about to whistle.

“I see,” Angel pocketed his nail file and approached Alastor provocatively. “An ordinary neighbor. Newly fallen. Looking for a job, and you’ve been pacing the lobby all morning thinking about him.”

“I’m not pacing!”

“You are pacing,” Husk cut in, “and it’s very entertaining. First time I’ve seen you like this in my life. Wish the princess was here.”

The smile on Alastor’s face had become painfully forced. He took a deep breath. Even that breath was uncontrolled. “Look. The situation is…” He couldn’t find the words.

Angel couldn’t hold back and burst out laughing. “Alastor,” he said between laughs, “did you fall in love with your neighbor?”

Silence fell over the lobby. The smile completely disappeared from Alastor’s face one of the rarest things Husk had ever seen in his life. The Radio Demon wasn’t smiling.

“Ridiculous,” Alastor’s voice was slightly louder than a whisper. “Complete nonsense. What does falling in love even mean? I don’t fall in love. I… I don’t fall in love with anyone. It’s impossible.”

Husk got up from the couch, approached Alastor, and put a hand on his shoulder. The gesture was so unexpected that Alastor flinched and stared at Husk’s hand as if it didn’t belong there. “Listen,” said Husk. “I’ve known you for years. I’ve never seen you act like this. I’m serious.”

Angel’s laughter doubled in volume this time. He doubled over, clutching his stomach.

A flush spread across Alastor’s cheeks at the laughter. This was the first time it had happened since his death. He brought a hand to his ear as if he could hide the redness, but the ear’s disobedience by folding back only made the situation funnier. “But he’s afraid of me. He freezes when he sees me in the hallway. He stops breathing. Yesterday I knocked on his door. I knew he was inside, but it took him two minutes to answer."

Angel’s laughter stopped. His face didn’t turn serious he was still amused but something in his gaze changed, as if he had just realized how difficult this actually was for Alastor. He returned to his stool and crossed his legs. “He might be scared of you,” his voice was calmer. “For a newly fallen demon, you’re… well… terrifying.”

“I know.”

“I mean, you’re the Radio Demon and all,” Angel continued, placing his hands on his knees. “You eat demons. Actually eat them. Chew and swallow. It would be abnormal for someone who knows that not to be afraid of you.”

“I know,” Alastor repeated. This time there was a crack in his voice.

Angel leaned back on his stool. “Look,” he said, “I’m going to give you some advice. Free of charge. Since you clearly need it right now.”

Husk sighed. This was definitely going to be a disaster.

Alastor turned to Angel. It was hard to tell if there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes, but the fact that he had turned toward him at all meant something.

“Stop being scary,” Angel spread his hands. “It’s that simple. Act like a normal neighbor. Don’t knock on his door. Don’t wait for him in the hallway. Just… exist. Be around. Say hi, keep going. He’ll get used to you over time.”

“Will that work?”

“It will,” Angel nodded. “Trust me. I know how to communicate with demons. The way to win over someone who’s scared isn’t to push them, it’s to give them space. If you make him feel like he can get away from you, like he can keep his distance if he wants, eventually he’ll come to you on his own.”

Husk grunted. “What Angel said isn’t completely stupid,” he said, reaching for his bottle. “At least not the stupidest thing he’s ever said but there’s one more thing.” He took a sip, wiped his lips, and looked at Alastor. “He needs to know you won’t hurt him. Just stopping being scary isn’t enough you have to make him feel safe. That takes time.”

Alastor tried to process these words. “Time,” he repeated. “How much time?”

“I don’t know,” Husk shrugged. “It depends on the demon. Some get used to it in a week, some in a year but for a newly fallen demon, Hell is already scary enough. Just don’t add to it.”

At that moment, Vox was outside. He was trying to walk along the edge of the sidewalk without making eye contact with anyone as much as possible. He had been here for a week and still hadn’t fully figured out the rules. He couldn’t tell who was dangerous and who was less dangerous, though everyone here was dangerous in some way but some were looking for trouble more than others, and Vox wasn’t looking for trouble. Right now he just wanted to buy bread with the money he had left, maybe some cheese, maybe a few canned goods, and go home.

He walked down the street, passed a few alleys, and slipped past a group of demons laughing. He had just spotted the market sign when three figures stepped in front of him.

“Well, well,” said the one in the middle, his voice hoarse and raspy. “A new one.”

Vox stopped. If he stayed calm, maybe there wouldn’t be a problem. “I’m just going to the market.”

The skinny one sniffed. Then he took a step closer, circling Vox in a half-circle, nose in the air as if smelling something. “There’s a scent on you,” his voice was unsettling. “A familiar scent.”

The other two moved closer too. Vox took a step back, but he couldn’t run. Getting caught would be worse.

“Who do you belong to?” asked the big one, his eyes roaming over Vox. “Whose territory are you in?”

Vox didn’t understand the question. “I don’t belong to anyone. I just live here. I just moved in. I’m staying in an apartment building, the one on the third street-” He was panicking.

“That building,” the skinny one cut him off, “is the Radio Demon’s building.”

Vox’s stomach twisted. Just hearing the name had that effect. “Yes,” he said. “He lives across the hall. Alastor. So he’s my neighbor.” He didn’t have to say that last word, but at that moment he thought it might save him.

The three demons looked at each other. Some silent communication passed between them that Vox couldn’t understand. The skinny one’s nose was still in the air, sniffing. “His scent is all over you,” the skinny demon said. “And it’s strong. Like he marked you.”

“No, no, it’s not like that. We’re just… we’re just neighbors. We ran into each other in the hallway a few times. In front of the mailboxes. That’s it. He even knocked on my door last night, but I didn’t open it. I mean, I didn’t open it even though I was inside, because.. because I was busy. I was making pancakes. Actually, I didn’t make them, I was going to but then I changed my mind. It doesn’t matter. The important thing is he didn’t mark me. I don’t even know what marking means. He didn’t do anything like that. He couldn’t have, because I’m just an ordinary guy, newly fallen, I have no special qualities. Why would he mark me? It doesn’t make sense. He’s just.. he’s a cannibal, I don’t know if you’ve heard, a cannibal, but he didn’t eat me, which is a good thing, right? He didn’t. Not yet.” It was as if he was praying for them to kill him right there.

The three demons looked at each other again. This time their gaze lasted longer. The skinny one sniffed. “You,” he said. “Are you stupid?”

“No,” Vox tried to defend himself. “I just panicked a little. Okay, I panicked a lot. I’m panicking right now, honestly, because the three of you are looking at me, blocking my way, and I just wanted to go to the market. I was going to buy bread.”

The big one stepped back. Just one step, but it was enough to lift some of the weight from Vox’s shoulders. “The Radio Demon’s neighbor,” he said. “And he talks like an idiot.”

“I don’t want to get involved in this,” said the demon who had stayed silent until now. “I’m staying out of it.”

The skinny one gave Vox one last look, then shrugged. They simply turned and walked away, leaving Vox standing in the middle of the sidewalk. He watched them until the three demons turned the corner and disappeared. Only then did he notice his legs were shaking. His knees had gone weak. He leaned against a wall and tried to catch his breath.

How had they smelled it? He had only stood in the same hallway with Alastor for a few minutes there was no way his scent could have transferred that strongly. It was ridiculous.

He didn’t want to think about what it meant.

He straightened up and continued walking toward the market. This time his steps were faster. He slipped between the other pedestrians on the sidewalk, ducked into the market entrance, wandered aimlessly between the aisles for a while, and was heading to the cashier with the things he needed when he saw something under one of the shelves.

A phone.

It was lying on the ground, its screen cracked but still on, the battery at half. Vox bent down, picked it up, and flipped it over, trying to figure out the brand. It looked similar to the ones from the living world, but not quite the screen was a little brighter, the buttons slightly different. He looked around, searching for anyone who might have dropped it, but the market was almost empty. Even the cashier was dozing behind the counter.

He slipped the phone into his pocket. If the owner came looking, he’d give it back. If not, it was his now. Finding a phone in Hell wasn’t a bad thing it might actually be useful. He went to the register, paid for his groceries, and left the store.

No one blocked his path on the way back. By the time he reached the apartment building, he was out of breath. He quickly climbed the stairs, entered his apartment, set the groceries on the kitchen counter, moved to the living room, collapsed onto the couch, and pulled the phone out of his pocket.

The phone wasn’t locked. He tapped the home screen and looked at the icons. There was a calling app, a messaging app, a few games, and one social media app. He tapped it. The app opened and immediately took him to a sign-up screen the previous owner had clearly logged out. Vox thought for a moment. Social media. In Hell. Maybe he could make friends here, maybe find demons who could help him understand this place. There might even be job postings.

He typed in a name, chose a random profile picture, but found no one to follow. The homepage was completely empty.

So he wrote a random post:
"It’s been a week in Hell. My neighbor probably wants to eat me. Not entirely sure yet. Overall, things are manageable."

He stood up, walked over to the kitchen counter, and poured himself a glass of water. Just as he was drinking, the phone vibrated. A notification had arrived.

He looked at the screen and nearly choked on the water.

@Radiodemon:
This made me laugh so much. I’m laughing. Haha. I let out a big laugh. Still laughing right now.

It was Alastor. It was definitely Alastor. The username, the profile picture, that strange writing style… Alastor had a social media account, and he had found Vox’s post and commented on it.

“How did he find it?” Vox’s voice echoed in the empty kitchen. “How? I just created the account. Does this app show location or something? Or is he following me?” His fingers were shaking. He thought about replying to the comment, then decided against it. What would he even say? “Stop following me? Weirdo?"

There had to be a block feature on this app. He opened the settings, searched for the blocked users list, found it, and typed Radiodemon. His finger hovered over the "Block" button. What would blocking him even do? The man lived across the hall. They'd run into each other by the mailboxes, in the hallway, on the stairs, and all that would've changed was that Vox had blocked him on social media. That was even stranger. Even harder to explain. Wouldn't he ask, "Why did you block me?" Vox couldn't exactly answer, "Because you laugh at me and it scares me." 

Hours passed. This time, a message arrived.

Radiodemon:
Aren't you going to reply, neighbor?

This man had no sense of boundaries. He blocked his way in the hallway, appeared by the mailboxes, knocked on his door, and now he had somehow made his way onto his phone... Finally Vox was so irritated he could barely think straight. He wanted to write at length, to vent all the anger he'd accumulated until now. 

Vox:
What exactly made you think I wanted to reply to you? I'm genuinely curious. I made one post, you commented on it, then that wasn't enough so you messaged me, and now you're expecting a reply.
I don't want to talk to you. How many more times do I have to run away the moment I see you in the hallway before you understand that? Just because we stood by the mailboxes for two minutes doesn't mean I fell in love with you.
I just want to step outside to get some air, and you're there every single time. Every single time. That's not normal.
You're not normal.

The moment he hit send, his palms started sweating. What had he done? He had just told the Radio Demon, one of the most dangerous beings in Hell, "You're not normal." And he had done it in a message. One that couldn't be deleted or taken back.

His phone vibrated. Vox was afraid to look at the screen.

Alastor:
:)

Alastor, the Radio Demon, the cannibal who ate demons, had replied to Vox's long, angry, panic-filled message with a smiley face. Was that really it? All those sentences, all that outburst, all that courage or stupidity and the only reply he got was :)? To make matters worse he changed his username too.

Vox:
What's that supposed to mean?

Alastor:
It's a smiley face.

Vox:
I know it's a smiley face. Why are you sending me a smiley face?

Alastor:
Because you made me laugh, neighbor. You were quite amusing. You wrote so much. So very much. Did your fingers get tired?

Vox:
I wrote you an entire essay and your response is a smiley face?

Alastor:
I don't know any other emojis. How do you make a sad face?

Communicating with this man was impossible. Completely impossible. Either he was pretending not to understand, or he genuinely didn't understand. Vox couldn't decide which was worse.

Vox:
I don't want a sad face. I just want you to leave me alone. Stop blocking my way in the hallway. Stop showing up by the mailboxes. Stop knocking on my door. Stop commenting on my posts. Stop messaging me. It's that simple. Don't do anything.

Alastor:
If you're asking me not to do all of those things, then you're asking me to never interact with you at all. That would be rather unfriendly between neighbors.

Vox:
We don't have a neighborly relationship. We're not neighbors. We just happen to live in the same apartment building, that's all.

Alastor:
The other day I called you "neighbor." You didn't object. We do have a neighborly relationship.

Vox:
I was trying to run away. I was too scared to think about what you were saying.

Alastor:
Why are you afraid of me?

There it was. The question had finally been asked. Vox stared at the screen and thought about the answer. The answer was actually simple.

Vox:
Because you're scary.

Alastor:
That isn't a reason, neighbor. The fact that I'm scary shouldn't make you afraid.
I'm simply being myself. I haven't harmed you.

Vox:
Yet.

Alastor:
Yet?

He shouldn't have typed that word. That single word had revealed all his cards. Now Alastor knew that Vox was genuinely afraid, that he truly saw him as a threat, that he really had been thinking, What if he eats me?

Vox:
Yeah, yet. You haven't eaten me so far, but you could. Just because you haven't doesn't mean you never will.

Alastor:
Have I given you any reason to think I'd eat you? Have I ever told you, "I'm going to eat you?" Have I bared my teeth at you? Sprinkled salt on you?

Vox:
No, but you eat other demons

Alastor:
Other demons aren't my neighbor.

Vox rested his fingers on the keyboard. He was about to type something, but then a much stranger question crossed his mind.

Vox:
Then why don't you eat me?

Alastor:
Do you want me to?

Vox:
No. Of course I don't want to be eaten, but I'm curious why you don't. You eat everyone else, but you don't eat me. What's that supposed to mean? Don't you think I'm worth eating? Am I not tasty?

Alastor:
You're actually asking me that.

Vox:
Yes. Answer me.

Alastor:
I don't know whether you're tasty or not. I've never tasted you.

Vox:
Then how do you know I'm not worth eating?

Alastor:
I never said that. I simply decided not to eat you.

Vox:
Why?

Alastor:
Because you're interesting.

Being considered interesting by a cannibal... what was that even supposed to mean? Did that make him an interesting meal on the menu, or did cannibals avoid eating the interesting ones? Vox couldn't make sense of it.

Vox:
This is ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. I asked you why you don't eat me, and you told me I'm interesting.

Alastor:
You asked. I answered.

Vox:
That's not an answer.

Alastor:
I think it's a perfectly satisfying answer. If you weren't interesting, perhaps I would've eaten you already. Who knows?

Vox:
Fine, I give up. Let's end this conversation.

Alastor:
You started it.

Vox:
Yeah, I did and now I'm ending it. Good night.

Alastor:
It's not evening yet.

Vox:
Then good day. Whatever. This conversation is over.

Vox locked his phone and leaned back against the couch. He felt relieved. 

So Alastor wasn't going to eat him, even if he'd said it in such a bizarre way, had taken some of the weight off his shoulders.

Or maybe he was simply exhausted.

He fell asleep.

In his dream, he was back in the hallway. He walked across the old apartment floor, every step making the wood creak beneath him. The door to the apartment across the hall was open, and Vox realized he was walking toward it. He didn't want to, but his feet refused to obey him.

He reached the doorway and looked inside. Alastor was there with his back turned, busy doing something. Vox wanted to call out to him, but no sound came from his throat.

At that moment, Alastor turned around. He was holding a mug, and he held it out toward Vox. "Your coffee, neighbor. It's gone a little cold. You kept it waiting."

Vox took the mug and looked inside. It wasn't coffee. It was filled with a dark red liquid. He looked back up at Alastor.

Alastor was smiling, just as he always did, but this time his teeth were more noticeable. "Go on," he said. "Aren't you interesting anymore?"

Vox woke up. He was breathing hard. He looked at his hands. There was no mug. It had been a dream. Just a dream.

He sat up in bed, trying to steady his breathing, when he heard a sound from outside.

But then came a second problem. A scream.

He couldn't tell whether it was the scream of a demon or something else, but it echoed through the apartment building. Vox froze in bed and held his breath. The scream stopped.

Then another one.

This one was longer.

Closer.

Vox headed toward the bedroom door, but stopped before reaching it. He walked into the living room and looked out the window. The street was dark. There was no one outside the building. Everything looked normal.

But inside the apartment building, those screams kept echoing.

Vox's hands started trembling. He stood in the middle of the living room, looking around, unable to decide what to do. Whatever that thing was... would it come to his door? There were other demons living in the building, so why wasn't anyone doing anything? Why wasn't anyone stepping outside to stop those screams?

There wasn't a fourth scream.

Instead, the thing Vox feared most happened.

Something slammed into his door. Then came the sound of scraping. As if someone or something had leaned against the door and was slowly sliding down it.

Vox covered his mouth with his hand to keep himself from making a sound and slowly, very slowly, backed away. He switched off the living room light. Then the small light in the kitchen.

The apartment was swallowed by darkness.

He crouched behind the couch, pulling his knees against his chest. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could make out the silhouettes of the furniture in the living room. The door was still closed. The lock was secure. The chain was still in place but whatever was outside was still there and Vox couldn't do anything.

He tried to think of a solution. Was there a police force here? Did Hell even have police? Who could he call? No one.

Everyone in the building had already heard those screams. If nobody was coming outside, there had to be a reason and Vox didn't want to find out what that reason was.

Then Alastor came to mind. If whatever was outside was a threat, Alastor could stop it but If he was the one standing outside Vox's door...The thought made Vox's stomach tighten but he had no other choice.

He had left his phone on the coffee table. He crawled toward it in the darkness, found it by feeling around with one hand, turned on the screen, opened the messaging app, and tapped on his chat with Alastor.

Vox:
Please stop.

Something hit the door again, this time more slowly, almost as if it were tired.

Vox's fingers trembled over the keyboard.

Alastor:
What would you like me to stop?

Vox:
There's something outside. It's banging on my door. I heard screams. Stop it.

Alastor:
I'm not home.

Sweat began running down Vox's forehead.

The thing outside wasn't Alastor.

Vox:
Fuck.

Alastor:
That's not a very pleasant word, Vox.

Vox:
Fuck, Alastor. There's something outside, you're not home, I'm here all by myself, and it's banging on my door. What am I supposed to do? Nobody's coming outside. Nobody's helping.

Alastor:
Calm down. Is your door locked?

Vox:
Yes. It's locked. The chain is on too.

Alastor:
The window?

Vox:
Closed.

Alastor:
Then you're safe. It can't reach you.

Vox:
How do you know it can't? I don't even know what it is. What if it can break the door down? What if it can come through the window?

Alastor:
The doors in this building are sturdy. I chose this place when I moved in. It won't get in.

That answer eased Vox's nerves, if only a little. The fact that he knew how sturdy the doors were, meant he at least knew what he was talking about.

Vox:
What's out there? Do you know?

Alastor:
Most likely one of the tenants downstairs. They lose control sometimes. They go through a transformation. They'll calm down by morning.

Vox:
A transformation? What kind of transformation?

Alastor:
Welcome to Hell, neighbor. Everyone here turns into something. Some slowly. Some quickly. You'll transform too.

He had been here for a week and nothing had happened yet but apparently...It would. When? Into what?

Instead of asking those questions, something else slipped out.

Vox:
Did you transform too?

Alastor:
I've always been like this.

Vox:
That's not an answer.

Alastor:
My answers usually aren't very satisfying. I thought you'd gotten used to that by now.

Even though his heart was still pounding, Vox smiled. For just a moment he forgot he was afraid.

Whatever had been banging on his door stayed there for a while longer. Then it slowly moved away. Something dragged itself down the hallway.

Eventually...Silence.

Vox remained behind the couch for a little while longer, the light from his phone illuminating his face as he sent Alastor one last message.

Vox:
I think it's gone.

By the time Vox's message arrived, Alastor was already sitting on the couch in the hallway, looking at the dead man.

Alastor:
See? I told you so.