Chapter Text
***
“Babe, are you sure about this?”
Charlie nodded, even as she took a careful sidestep around what looked like a torn up rug. Sure, the building was rundown but that was just what happened to buildings when they hadn’t been lived in in years. Zestial hadn’t been able to give her an exact date of when it had closed down but Angel had been in Hell for almost a century and he’d never seen the hotel open.
Which was a shame, really. It was in such a beautiful location!
It was a little outside of Pentagram City itself but that only made it more perfect in Charlie’s eyes. After all, it would be much harder to reform a sinner if their preferred vices were readily available on their doorstep. There was nothing on this hotel’s doorstep. Or well, there was, but it was only a dead bird slowly being consumed by ants. It hadn’t been a great start but the whole point of this hotel was to fix that which was broken. Perhaps as she helped sinners rebuild themselves, they could rebuild the hotel as well!
“Yeah…I don’t think I signed up for this.”
Charlie turned, eyes pleading at the single guest she already had. He, being Angel, was hovering just inside of the entrance. His eyes raked over the broken windows, torn drapes, and veritable mounds of dust.
“This might actually be Hell in Hell.”
Charlie rushed back, clutching his hands in hers. “I promise you; it won’t be! I know it doesn’t look like a lot now but that’s only because Vaggie and I literally just got the keys. Give us a few hours and this place will look amazing. No, it will be amazing.”
Angel raised a skeptical eyebrow but a warm hand wrapped around her waist. Vaggie was smiling up at her. “Well, if you’re willing to give it a go then I am too. I guess the first step will be cleaning.”
“Actually,” Charlie said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the lease agreement. “It says that the first step is to prime the boiler. Apparently the hotel can get really cold; probably because there’re no other buildings nearby. The boiler should keep the place nice and warm.” She then squinted. “It creeps. What does that mean?”
“Who the fuck knows?” Angel griped even as Vaggie took the paper for herself. He poked at a shadow, leaping back seconds later even though it remained stationary. “Maybe it follows ya. Cause if anywhere in Hell was gonna be haunted, it’d be this place.”
“Ghosts don’t exist dumbass,” Vaggie snapped, turning to another page. “You die and either end up up there or down here.”
Angel huffed. “Sure, keep lying to yourself. I’ve seen plenty a ghosts!”
His phone then went off, mouth twisting downwards as he read whatever was on it. Charlie already had a hunch; after all, there wasn’t anyone in Hell who didn’t know what Angel’s profession was. He was already making excuses when she waved him off. The smile she got in return was surprisingly genuine and hey!, maybe this would turn out okay after all.
The door thudding behind Angel left them in a still sort of silence and Charlie nervously bounced on her toes. Ghosts or no ghosts, this hotel still felt strange. Undoubtedly why it had been empty for so long.
She was brought out of her musings by Vaggie passing her the agreement back. “Okay, so it’s a shitshow right now. But we can change that. Where did you wanna start?”
“The rooms!”
“The rooms?” she repeated dubiously, glancing around the nightmarish lobby.
“Yes,” Charlie said quickly. “We can do the lobby soon but I think we need at least one floor or wing with rooms ready. Angel’s our first guest Vaggie. He needs somewhere to stay. We offered him that.”
She watched understanding bloom in her girlfriend’s eyes, expression softening. “Yeah, you’re right. Okay, you give me a job and I’ll do it.”
Charlie nodded excitedly. “So, so, so, so! I’ll start up here. I can use some magic to get us some new furniture; we can work together on cleaning and polishing anything that needs fine work. If you start on the boiler, that’d be great! I can already feel the cold creeping in.”
“Yeah, with the amount of broken windows, I can see why. I’ll look into that too; someone to replace them if you can’t magic us up some new ones.”
Charlie saw her off with a wave before weaving through the lobby to the grand staircase. “Well,” she said to herself. “I suppose a little extra light wouldn’t hurt.”
With a clap, lights appeared on the walls, a chandelier dropping from the centre of the room. It brightened the room some, already made it feel more homely. The trek up the stairs seemed to take longer than it should have but that was probably because of the jobs she kept noticing and mentally logging.
Repair that wallpaper. Fix those windows. Oh, those ones were stained. Need a new design then. This carpet has runs in it. The paintings need to be rehung. Locks. The rooms will need locks. Plumbing. Shit! Did we even check that the plumbing-
Charlie’s thoughts screeched to a halt as a snippet of jazz music reached her ears.
She swung around. The corridor was empty, the sound gone. Or, if she really, really strained, perhaps she could hear it in the distance. Vaguely tinny, so far away they must have been separated by a couple of floors.
Oh. Vaggie.
Charlie scoffed. Of course. Vaggie was playing music to keep herself company in the basement. It wasn’t a typical choice for her but it did suit the hotel. If Charlie had had to pick a style of music to play here, she would have picked jazz too. It suited the muted reds, the gold filigree, the cathedral radios.
Laughing at her own silliness, Charlie began to poke around more. Unfortunately, most of the rooms were in the same level of disrepair as the lobby had been. Furniture rotted or broken, dust and cobwebs covering every surface, windows shattered, shower curtains tore, tiles broken and uneven.
“Okay,” she said, taking a deep breath. “We can do this. One room at a time. One step at a time. One guest at a time.”
***
“Charlie?”
Charlie jerked back, tripping over the lip in the tiles and crashing back into a guest bedroom. Which one? Who knew; she’d lost count hours ago. “Vaggie?”
She heard footsteps in the hall and then Vaggie’s head poked into the room. She gave an amused shake of the head, helping Charlie up. “You okay?”
“I am doing great! I think I’ve finished almost all the bedrooms in the East wing. Well, all the bedrooms in the East wing on the first floor, that is. The plumbing seems to be working but I haven’t had any luck with the hot water.”
“That’ll probably sort itself once the boiler spreads to the whole hotel. It looked like it hadn’t been used in awhile. It might need a little longer than normal.”
“You got it started then?”
“Yeah, that was no problem. It was a bitch to get to though. You have to go through the pantry and then I guess an old store room, then down a totally not creepy hatch. There’s paper all over the floor; not to mention a ton of rat skeletons.” Vaggie shivered. “I got those cleaned up though. Tossed them in the boiler actually.”
Charlie grimaced. “Well, not much else to do with them I suppose.” She finished off the bathroom tiles with a flick of magic and flopped onto the bed. Good bounce. She then frowned, consulting her phone. “And that took five hours?”
“What? Oh, no. You seemed to have the rooms covered so I started on the lobby. The glass guy’s coming tomorrow. First impressions are important, you know?”
Which, they were but that wasn’t what Charlie had asked her to do. They were supposed to work together to complete the guest rooms and instead Vaggie had just been lazing around the in lobby while-
Wait, I don’t think that. Why would I think that? That’s an awful thing to think. Vaggie’s been working just as hard. Even more of the hotel is done now.
“Charlie?”
“Sorry,” she said, rubbing her temples. “I think using my powers this often is wearing me out.”
“And you’re working in all this filth,” Vaggie mused, dropping down beside her. Charlie reached out, interlacing their fingers. “The amount of dust in here would give anyone allergies, not to mention a migraine. You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah.” She gave an emphatic nod to go with it. “Let’s finish off the East wing. We can then claim a room for ourselves and let Angel scope his out when he gets off work. If we have any energy after that, I guess we could look into the kitchen or the dining room.”
Vaggie thought that over before rolling on top of her. “Of course, we haven’t christened the hotel yet.”
Charlie flushed even as she giggled. She swatted at Vaggie playfully. “Rooms first. Then we might - might! - do that.”
***
Angel clocked off sometime closer to sunrise than sunset, grumbling as he had to walk the final couple of miles to the hotel. He got it. Those broads had got the place dirt cheap - too right to, it was so old and dank and gross and falling apart that Angel was surprised it was actually worth anything at all but he supposed conmen thrived in Hell - but they couldn’t have gotten a place closer the final bus stop? He was going to have to have them arrange a concierge service if they expected him to stay. Fuck this long walk every day.
Stepping over the threshold, Angel gave a low whistle. Okay, he maybe took some of his snarking thoughts back. The hotel already looked miles better inside. He could start to see what it would have looked like in its heyday.
The lobby was now alight with muted golds, lights dimmed, lit only to show wayward souls the way home. Most of the dirt and dust was gone and new pictures were fixed to the walls. Not where Angel would have started but he supposed it was somewhat comforting to see portraits of Charlie and her father, Lucifer, the literal King of Hell, displayed so publicly. It’d be a message to anyone who wanted to start shit; that was for sure.
New greenery dotted the room and a currently unlit opulent chandelier hung overhead. Fifties music was filtering out of the kitchen, a warm welcome to be sure. The lights in there were on as well and Angel swore he could smell a chicken pot pie being baked. An odd choice for breakfast but he wasn’t going to complain, especially if the meal was free.
Cutting across the dining room and its miserably empty bar, Angel barged into the kitchen, fumbling as he tried to stuff his phone in a pocket that turned out to not be large enough to hold a phone - damn womens’ clothes! “Hey Toots, what’cha-...”
Angel trailed off. The kitchen was empty. Completely.
The smell seemed to evaporate into thin air. The music didn’t peter off, it didn’t skip and then end. It just suddenly wasn’t there anymore. Even the light he swore was on was now just light leaking in through the dining room from the lobby.
Fuck Angel, what the fuck? The light was just-
No, you’re just drunk. Hungover. High.
But I didn’t take-
The light was never on you idiot! You’re fucking sleep deprived. Go to fucking bed!
Angel clapped his hands over his ears. What the hell was that? Sure, he talked to himself in his head from time to time, who didn’t?, but that hadn’t felt like that. It had sounded deeper, raspier. The air shifted and Angel froze.
There was someone in front of him.
There was someone standing right in front of him. They were shorter than him but that wasn’t the comfort it usually was because Angel could feel their gaze, scouring him, tearing him apart, needling him, peeling his skin away, layer by layer. His breath hitched. Oh fuck. Was this it? Was he about to croak in this-
“Angel?”
He yelped, whirling around. Charlie stood in the middle of the dining room, brow furrowed in confusion. Her eyes then looked over his shoulder and fuck!
Angel swung back around but there was no one there. The kitchen was as empty as it had been when he’d…When he’d what? Come back to his senses? Stopped hallucinating?
“Angel, is everything okay?”
He slapped his cheeks, spinning around with a smile. “Sorry, thought I saw something. Must be more tired than I thought. What’cha doing down here?”
“Well, I was going to start breakfast,” Charlie said cheerily before swapping to concerned. “But I think that can wait. How about we get you a room?”
“Please. Ya got any ready to go?”
“I do!” Charlie led him back to the lobby, rifling through the desk at reception and coming out with a master key and a collection of others. “I’ll show you around the first floor. Whichever room you like, it’s yours.”
That explained the fistful of keys. What it didn’t explain was, “What the hell’s that key?”
Charlie followed his pointing finger. At the back of the drawer was shoved a rusting key except Angel could tell it wasn’t rusting at all. No, the key was covered in a layer of dried blood.
“I don’t know,” she admitted, peering closer. “It’s for the thirteenth floor. We haven’t gone that far up yet.”
Angel blinked. “Ain’t that the floor with the radio tower?”
Charlie paused in where she was rounding the desk. “Yeah, it is actually. Zestial told us not to go in there. He said it was the hotel’s only rule.”
“You mean the only rule included in the sale. Cause, like, a hotel ain’t making rules.”
Charlie flapped a hand at him. “You know what I mean.” She paused at the bottom of the stairs. “Uh, we could take the elevator but I haven’t tried it yet.”
“Stairs.” Angel didn’t even have to think on it. “No offence but with how the rest of this place looks, I’d wager that thing as a death trap. You won’t get me in it unless one of you two ride in it first.”
“That’s probably safest,” Charlie agreed.
The first floor really was as spruced up as Charlie claimed it was. Windows were polished to gleaming, door handles shining brass, and the walls had even been coated in a lavish silk wallpaper. Damn. Spared no expense here. Or maybe Charlie’s magic was just pompous. Or she had an endless budget. Daughter of a royal had to come with so many perks.
Angel couldn’t lie. You saw one hotel room, you saw them all. Picking which one “spoke” to him as Charlie called it was really more like picking which one was closest to the amenities. As such, Angel went to pick the first room they came across but from the corner of his eyes he glimpsed the elevator. The ornate golden doors were currently shut but beyond them was darkness and Angel felt his stomach drop out, like he was going between floors far too first, like he’d stepped into the shaft and suddenly the elevator car wasn’t there. The horrible clanking sound of metal grated on his ears and Angel wrenched his eyes away.
“Which room are you and ya girlfriend staying in?”
Charlie looked startled for a second before taking his hand and tugging him down the hallway. They were, as it was, towards the edge of the East wing, almost as far from the elevator as possible. Angel looked across the hall, finding a doorway mirrored on the other side.
“That one,” he said without hesitation. “I wanna stay there.”
Charlie pressed the key into his hand without saying anything, without asking why he wanted to be so close to them, why he didn’t want space, and that, he thought, said more than anything she had said.
***
It creeps.
The words had stuck with Vaggie ever since she’d seen them scrawled onto the lease agreement. The handwriting was sloppy, choppy, somehow angry. She hadn’t had an idea what it meant when she’d turned the boiler on. The instructions had been bolted to the wall beside the infernal contraption and for that she’d been thankful. Following them had been simple enough. Understanding all the gauges and knobs was harder but she understood the only one that seemed to matter: the pressure gauge.
Too little and the hotel wouldn’t receive any heating at all. Too much and they and the hotel would be blasted sky high.
There was a valve for releasing steam, and subsequently pressure, and that too seemed easy enough to operate. A couple of cranks would drag it down a hundred or so PSI. Or,
PSI: pound per square inch you fucking degenerate.
As some delightful person long ago had written underneath the matching diagram. The handwriting was a match to the lease agreement so Vaggie wagered whoever had left the (unhelpful) notes had once worked here, most likely as a groundskeeper or maintenance worker.
All that to say, Vaggie was still thinking on the mysterious, innocuous “it creeps” when she went to check on the boiler in the morning. Charlie had been up on the second floor when Vaggie had awoken, cheerily informing her that Angel was back and that he was opposite them but currently asleep. She’d offered to make breakfast but Vaggie had waved her off. Better to save themselves the hassle and just eat lunch together unless they were really starving. Charlie wasn’t, Vaggie either, and this way Angel could join them.
Throwing on the pantry light, Vaggie made a note to stock the room sometime during the day before crossing into the storeroom beyond. Like yesterday, the smell of general damp hit her before anything else as well as the smell of-
Vaggie paused midstep. Water. It smelt like water. Not damp, but actual water. Salty, stagnant water. Thick with bracken and algae. She followed the smell, confused. The closer she got to the basement, the stronger it got until Vaggie almost swore she could hear the lapping of water right under the trap door.
Which was ridiculous.
Ripping the door open, nothing greeted her but a blast of musty air. And a single scurrying cockroach.
And yet she swore the smell struck to her clothes, her hair, her very being.
“Stupid, stupid,” she muttered, stomping down the stairs. She must have still been tired. Tired and imagining things.
Sidestepping another cockroach, Vaggie checked in on the boiler only to do a double take. Oh fuck, she was not imagining that.
Vaggie flung herself at the valve that relieved pressure inside the boiler. Its needle was in the yellow, teetering dangerously close to red. Which made no sense because she hadn’t primed it with enough fuel to-
It creeps.
Oh fuck. Vaggie hands paused on the valve before quickly depressing it frantically until she saw the needle start to slide down. Down, down, down, until it eventually fell back into the green zone. The safe zone.
The goddamn fucking boiler crept. Well wasn’t that fan-fucking-tastic.
***