Chapter Text
The door to Grillby’s slams open five minutes past opening. Apollo rushes in gasping, his blue flames wavering as he gets his breath under control. Grillby, Fellby, Swirlby stare at their counterpart in surprise. Apollo looks like he was in a fight or two on his way here. Not entirely unheard of for the mob-member Grillby.
“Piss off the wrong crowd, Apollo?” sneers Fellby. Apollo glares at the purple elemental as he rushes up to the counter, his flames radiating anxiety. The others tense, Apollo isn’t one to let his emotions out of his flames. Something really must be wrong—dusted wrong.
“Killby…accepted…a,” he takes several large gulps of air. Apollo doesn’t speak much, so the fact he’s trying to has the others on high alert. He puts a slightly scorched piece of paper on the counter with an address on it. “Hit on…Desdemona Dracula.”
The temperature in the bar skyrockets.
“Fucking hell!” Fellby leaps over the bar, followed by Swirlby who grabs the paper. Grillby hands Apollo his dish towel and an apron.
“Watch the bar,” demands Grillby as he races after the others. Apollo sits down on a stool and sighs. He did his best. He told the others. Now it’s up to the others to get to you before Killby does.
***
You are curled up on the couch reading a news article on your phone. A yawn escapes you as you peak at the clock on the oven. It’s late morning. You should be thinking about getting to bed soon. Maybe after one more article.
Or two.
A knock at your door draws your attention. Was Lucy expecting a package today? Hauling yourself to your feet, you slowly pad your way to the door. Checking the peep hole, you see flames. Blinking in surprise, your human illusion drops as you open the door.
Why was Grillby at your apartment?
It’s only after you open the door you realize this isn’t your Grillby. He wore a red dress shirt with black suspenders instead of your Grillby’s white dress shirt and black fest. Plus he has a hat. Still a well dressed monster, as most Grillby’s are, you’ve noticed. This Grillby takes off his fedora respectfully and places it at his chest as he introduces himself.
“Pardon the intrusion, miss Dracula,” he says with a surprisingly thick Brooklyn accent. Is he from New York? “The name’s Killby. Mind if I step inside? I have something of great importance to speak to you about.”
Well, he’s awfully polite. You allow him into your apartment. As you close the door behind him, you brush up against his flames and freeze for a moment. His feels so much darker than any other Grillby you’ve met, magic tainted with LV. This one’s magic makes you feel like you’re staring in awe as your neighbor’s house burns down, wondering if the arsonist who did it is targeting your house next. It puts you on guard.
“Please sit down,” you say politely, moving to the kitchen. You have the kitchen island between you and Killby. “Would you like a drink? I believe I have some cognac and wine.”
“Sorry, miss,” he apologies, dipping his head. “I’m afraid I must be quick about this visit.”
In a smooth movement, he pulls a gun out of the back of his pants while replacing his hat. You’re staring down the barrel of a snub-nosed single shot pistol with an ebony grip. You raise an eyebrow at your guest, unimpressed.
“Pulling a gun on a lady in her own home is pretty rude, friend,” you deadpan. Killby smirks, seeing your lack of fear.
“Sorry, doll,” he says with a vicious smile. “But this girls’ got a tracking spell on it and will know if I fired it at the right person. Right person is you. Don’t hate a monster trying to earn a bit of cash. Times are tough for us alternates.”
Killby pulls the trigger.
Instantly the magic protecting your lair magic activates. Instead of a loud crack, his gun is transformed into a mass of soap bubbles sizzling in his hand. You flick your wrist to summon a spray bottle Lucy uses to water her plants in her bedroom. Turning the nozzle on stream, you fire a warning shot of water over Killby’s shoulder. He puts his hands up as his shoulder steams.
“Don’t hate a monster for defending her home,” you counter, mirroring his vicious smirk from before.
“Well played, darling,” he purrs. “Very well played.”
With a crash, your door is kicked down and a panicked Grillby flies into your apartment followed by Fellby and Swirlby. The fire elementals are surprised to see you in control of the situation. Grillby sighs in relief, seeing you uninjured, but makes his way to your side and crosses his arms at Killby. Fellby blocks the exit while a distracted Swirlby starts going through your kitchen cabinets, looking for your favorite teas.
“Don’t look at me like that,” sniffs Killby, straightening his suspenders. “You know times been tough and money is hard to come by.”
“…my patrons are not targets,” glares Grillby, his flames reddening in anger. “You do not take hits on the people under my protection.”
“Yeah, Brooklyn,” grins Fellby, wisps of fire leaving his mouth intimidatingly. “You know the rules. Claws off the customers unless you want your dust scattered.”
“I didn’t touch the lady,” shrugs Killby. “See? She’s in one piece.”
“But you tried,” growls Grillby, his flames increasing in intensity and heat. You turn your spray bottle back to spray and hit your face with a cooling mist. The water feels nice, but evaporates too quickly. These elementals need to calm down before they set the apartment’s emergency sprinklers off.
“What’s this about money being tight?” you question, spraying yourself with another blast of water. “Also, Grillby, thank you for support, but could you please turn down the heat? I don’t need you burning a hole into the wood flooring. Landlord might pitch a fit that I don’t really want to listen to.”
Grillby’s heat lowers, but his glare and stance stay strong. Swirlby pulls out a cheap box of tea bags with a gasp. Immediately he incinerates the box in his hands. You sigh as the smell of smoke and burned tea leaves reaches your nose.
“Swirlby, stop burning our tea.”
“But it’s cheap leaves! Not even loose leaf! I dare not even call that trash tea. It’s no better than hot water!”
“I get that, but if you didn’t buy it, don’t destroy it. My house, my rules. You’re lucky this apartment’s sprinkler system appears to be faulty.”
“Fine, but we are getting you proper tea.” Swirlby sighs as he takes a place on your other side. His thick glasses slide down for a moment to pierce Killby with a dark glare, before Swirlby pushes up his glasses with his classic smile. Killby ignores the exchange, he’s not one to be intimidated so easily. He looks you in the eyes.
“Haven’t you wondered why so many fire monsters are at Grillby’s and not their own bars, doll?”
The thought did cross your mind. Your Grillby is a business owner. It would make sense that the others would do something similar. Fellby and Swirlby for sure are trained to serve their favorite drinks.
“Shut up, Killby!” hisses Fellby, his flames sparking. Swirlby looks down at his shoes and straightens his bow tie.
“We implants didn’t have the fortune of being tossed out into the multiverse with our gold in our back pockets,” scowls Killby, clenching his fists. “Sure, this world’s Grillby has been offering us little jobs here and there, but part-time jobs don’t make the money your world’s banks require for a down payment on a building to set up our own establishments. Some of us had to get creative with our skills to make ends meet.”
“Why didn’t you just ask for help instead of waving a gun in my face?” you sigh, placing the water bottle down on the island. “Anyone with internet can find my address. You didn’t need to get hired to find me.” The other fire monsters stare at you in shock at your words. Killby bursts out laughing.
“Don’t lie to me, doll. Ain’t no one going to just give that kind of charity away. Life ain’t that easy.”
“Of course life isn’t,” you agree, rolling your eyes and shaking your head. “That’s why I’d set up a magically binding contract. A personal loan, if you will. Any vampire from a royal line can make one, and you’d be hard-pressed to find a vampire without the money to back it. I’m not a von Dalv Dracula for nothing, snub-nose. It’s not charity if I’m being paid back and we’re both being magically forced to abide by the agreement.”
Killby stares you down, his eyes blown wide as his mouth drops open. Damn, can the magic of the surface monsters really do that? He can feel you’re honest intentions. Shit, you really are capable of doing that…willing to do that. He fucked up and should have reached out to you first.
“FUCK NO!” shouts Fellby, crossing the room to stand in front of you. His fire whips angrily. Grillby and Swirlby place an arm in front of you to block the flames of the angry monster. “Did you forget this bastard took a job to kill you?! He don’t deserve shit! Not your time, not your money, not your kindness! You ain’t giving him a damn dime!”
Your snickering throws Fellby off. Grillby and Swirlby look back at you in confusion.
“The fuck you laughing at?!” scowls Fellby, his temperature rising.
“That you were worried about me,” you raise a hand to hide your snickers. Fellby’s flames gain white streaks through his head.
“I ain’t worried about some broad,” he sniffs, looking purposefully away from you. You keep to yourself how his heat has gone down. “But it don’t change the fact he attacked you in your own home! That’s not something you forgive.”
“…I must agree with him,” rasps Grillby. Your snickers evolve into full on laughter, to Grillby’s confusion. “…why are you laughing? This is about your safety.”
“I was never in any danger here!” you giggle. Killby smirks as he crosses his arms in front of him. “Sure, Killby was quite rude, pulling a gun, but a proper hit man knows his target. It’s a well known fact that it’s almost impossible to kill a vampire in their own lair. If he wanted me dusted, he would have attempted outside my residence. Not go out of his way to be let in! Plus, I felt his magic. If he really wanted to cause a fuss, he is more than capable of challenging my lair magic with his own power. But he didn’t even try.”
The fire monsters still as they realize what you’re saying.
“See? This dame gets it,” smirks Killby, looping his fingers around his suspenders. “This place reeks of protection magic. A bullet would have never made it to the doll. Gun has a tracker spell on it. It knows when it’s been fired and at who. Regardless if I succeed hitting my target or not, I get paid. Why kill someone I’ve been wanting to meet? Been mighty curious about the dame who put both a mage and Mettafell in their places.”
“That’s still very dangerous!” scolds Swirlby, hands on his hips. “What if your lair magic failed?”
“It won’t,” you assure. “Hasn’t failed me in all the years I’ve needed it to protect me.”
Concern causes Grillby’s flames to flash green for a moment.
“…do you often have people attack you in your home?” asks a hesitant Grillby. The question causes the others to still and look at you. You shrug.
“You’d be surprised how many human fans get the idea that if they can’t have me, then murder-suicide is peak romance,” you reply nonchalant. “Zero out of five stars experience, by the way.”
All the fire monsters in your apartment wave their flames in concern. Even Killby looks put off by it.
“What?” you ask. “It’s why bodyguards exist…not that I’ve every really needed one.”
Killby recovers first and smiles at you with a wink.
“Need a bodyguard, doll face? I’m your guy.”
You shake your head as the fire elementals begin to bicker among themselves. A breeze coming through the front door catches your attention. Ah, right. They broke down your door.
“What I need,” you shout, raising your voice over their argument. The four monsters pause. “Is for you guys to fix the door you broke down, and get me a list of monsters who are having trouble getting business loans.”
Grillby sheepishly rubs the back of his head. You sigh before giving him a small smile. His flames perk up as he goes to rehang the door.
“You’re not…holy shit you are,” says Fellby, running a hand through his flames. “You’re actually serious about this.”
“I’ve always been an advocate of monsters supporting monsters. A mobster from a fell world pulling a gun on me doesn’t change that.”
“I do apologize for that, doll face. I won’t forget this favor.”
***
Seven different contracts for personal loans—one for Swirlby, Fellby, Comet, Salsa, Killby, Apollo and Asmodeus. Just over three million dollars divided between seven fire elementals to buy and renovate their businesses in Ebott City. Fellby, Swirlby and Killby’s faces were comical when you drafted up the first contract and presented it to them right there in your apartment. A promise to lend each of them $450,000, at a measly half of a percent interest rate, to be paid back within fifty years. That’s less then one-thousand dollars a month to pay back the loan and yearly accrued interest! You also won’t start charging them until they open their businesses. They, of course, promise to pay the loan back, get their businesses opened within six months of signing, get their businesses insured (you give them a number of a brownie ran insurance agency with good business rates for monsters), and allow you to periodically inspect their businesses to ensure the agreement is being upheld.
You straighten the magically binding contracts in your hands, tapping them against the empty booth at Grillby’s. Grillby was kind enough to let you use his space to work on the loans while he fixes your door. Apollo, who introduced himself as you came back, serves you a simple glass of pomegranate juice. His magic smells of gun smoke and reminds you of tossing spent firecrackers into a fire. Apollo sits behind the bar, dutifully tending it, his presence demanding respect and calm.
The best thing about coming from old money is being able to use it however you felt like. After all, what point is working for almost all your life if you didn’t get to spend the money you earned? Supporting monsters and small businesses has always been your favorite way to spend it.
You decided to go a bit further with these business loans, too. Why worry about managing their contracts, when you could hire someone in need of a job to deal with it for you? Apollo gave you a good tip on a potential monster suited for dealing with such a diverse clientele. You had called the number he provided and left a voicemail.
The bell to Grillby’s rings as a tall skeleton with an eye patch and a purple hoodie waltzes in. His eye sockets look red and he smells of dog treats, clearly high as a kite. You note the chips and scratches on his visible bones and purple house slippers on his feet. Yup, this must be the skeleton you’ve been waiting for.
“Welcome, Cash,” you greet, taking a sip of pomegranate juice. “A fast response, I’m impressed.” You offer him the seat in front of you. He eyes you carefully. Your wings twitch as you feel him perform a check on your soul. Rude, but you suppose it’s within expectation. He is from a fell universe, you reason. He glances up at Apollo for a moment before gazing back down at you. Satisfied by whatever he saw, he plops down in the booth across from you.
“Hey, hun,” he greets back. He slouches in his seat and pulls out a cigarette. You raise an eyebrow at his behavior. At least it’s not a dog treat, you suppose. “I know this is an interview and all, but I think you need to find someone else.”
“Oh, yeah?” you ask, resting your elbows on the table and linking your fingers. Interesting, not often do you need to convince people to work for you. “And why is that?”
“I have a long history of embezzlement and extortion,” he replies, slowly letting out a stream of smoke from his jaw. “I’m also from a violent world and find that violence sometimes is the answer. I don’t work well with others and don’t like authority figures dictating me. Anyone from my world could tell ya that, too. That enough for ya, hun?”
Oh, so he’s trying to weasel his way out of a job? Fascinating, you’re intrigued. You can be a troll too.
“So what I’m hearing,” you say as you rest your chin on your hands. “Is that you have a background in dealing with money, experience in dealing with difficult clients, are a problem solver, and like to work independently with little need of direction?”
Cash stares at you wide-eyed for a moment before throwing his head back and laughing. Somehow, his cigarette manages to stay in his teeth. He wipes a purple tear from his one eye.
“Ah, that was a good one.”
“Thank you,” you smile. “Now may I actually counter your objections?”
He waves a hand lazily at you.
“You have the floor, hun.”
“I am well aware of your history in extortion and embezzlement,” you begin, looking over a piece of paper with his information on it. How Apollo managed to just have all this dirt on hand, you’d rather not know. “As you said, I could have asked any Whimsun on the street and know that.”
“Then you know we’re wasting each other’s time,” he says, taking another drag. You ignore him as you shuffle your papers and set them off to the side.
“I’m also aware that you are one of the best underground monsters in the field of finance,” you continue. “You could be handed a pouch of G and know exact amount inside without needed to count it. As to why I’m confident you won’t blow this chance, I have two reasons. Firstly, you’re going to be in charge of handling the money for a couple mob and fell establishments. They’ll handle you if you try anything funny with their money.”
Cash snorts as he listens. Apollo eyes up the skeleton with a warning look before continuing to clean a glass.
“Secondly,” you say, handing him the employment contract and looking him in the eye. “I’m under the impression your loyalties lie with money and I have every intent to buy that from you. Your starting salary is a six-figure number, as listed on that sheet, with a sign on bonus to get you and your brother a comfortable place to live. If you feel like that’s not enough, negotiate with me. As the contracts you’re managing last fifty years, I expect you to be on my payroll for each of those years, with yearly reviews for potential raises. Questions?”
This time, the cigarette does fall from his teeth onto his lap. You swear his eye light shifts into a heart for a brief moment.
“Can I call you Mommy?”
“Absolutely not. That is not negotiable.”
“Damn, can’t blame a bonehead for trying. We’ll you certainly have my interest. When do I start, boss?”