Chapter 7.2: The City of Angels

March 18th

All was quiet as the little cabin cruiser sailed through what was formerly Skid Row. Little buoys floated around, with flashing signs and markers, pointing out historic areas for curious divers to travel down into. Los Angeles was all underwater, like many other parts of the Western sector.

It was no longer called Los Angeles but San Andreas's Shore.

There was very little light, only illuminated by the waning moon, as Carlos drove the little cruiser through the dark. A few sparse boats littered the water, mostly tourists or archeologists, sleeping and dreaming of what treasures they would find at the bottom of 6th Street and San Pedro.

Gabriel flipped through the arcane book they were given before they set out for their hazing ritual. Unlike many of the other books at the monastery, this one was written in Unitarian, with various translations, and more detailed pictures than an Ikea instruction manual.

Carlos was relieved that Gabriel seemed to slowly return to his former self, at least, until anything with food was involved. A cooler filled with blood, disguised as tomato fruit juice boxes sat next to him, and occasionally Gabriel would rifle through it, never using the straw, and punctured the box with his fangs, all while never leaving his gaze from the book.

Gabriel's personality wasn't the only thing that changed.

His hot bright searing lights were now replaced by a burning cold, that sometimes emitted a dark aura, another part of his humanity lost. Gabriel was relieved that he could still use his ability, impossible that a vampire could use the power of light without burning itself to bits.

It made him wonder what else about him had changed that he hadn't noticed and if the changes would only be good.

Carlos focused on getting close to his target, as the sparse boats now were littered all over the water, getting denser, clustering together, the tourists wanting to get a good site of the infamous Cecil Hotel.

It was impossible to not know where it was, the hotel one of the few things that were still visible from on top of the water. Only the top three floors were visible, yet it was a popular tourist destination. Everyone who went swore they saw ghosts , but it was nothing but an over-glorified cement platform.

The boat's engine turned off, and it slowed down to a crawl until Carlos lowered his anchor at the impromptu dock made near the tourists' entrance. It was the dead of night, and the touring hours were closed, yet fans of the paranormal were still waiting outside, hoping to get a glimpse of the evil spirits that were said to walk across water, trying to drown anyone that got too close.

Carlos sighed and ran his fingers through his hair again, wondering if this was just a waste of time. They had been sent to a tourist trap, in the middle of the night, during the witching hour to verify a ridiculous rumor.

A portal to Hell.

Carlos scoffed at the idea of it all and put on his green flip-flops. He and Gabriel were wearing trunks, his green, and Gabriel's yellow. Carlos got up from the steering wheel and tried to get Gabriel's attention, but he was gone. Carlos wasn't sure if he even was reading, his eyes blinking rapidly, the pages turning fast.

"Gabriel!"

Gabriel jerked up, the "juice box", still in his mouth, and got it all over his face.

Carlos just stared and prayed silently, and didn't even ask him to stay. There was no use in asking, he would find some way to get Carlos to bring him along anyway.

"Let's go, Gabriel, there's nothing here, and we can prove it quickly and return back to Chiusi."

Gabriel opened his mouth, dropping the juice-box to the floor, and licked his lips. Instead of talking, he looked at him, not wanting to speak anymore. He asked why they would send us to a place just to waste our time? Don't they want to get rid of us?

Carlos couldn't answer.

He was so caught up in finding a remedy for his curse that he never thought out the in-between nuances, and again was walking into another trap.

Awkwardly, they clambered out of the small boat and walked down the dock, their footsteps not making a sound. The metallic fence was torn like paper when Carlos grabbed a section of it and ripped it off. He made a hole big enough for them to walk right through, and they continued down the dock, towards the hotel roof.

The roof was not glamorous, the smell of trash wafting in the air mixed in dirty seawater, polluted by all the tourists that refused to clean up after themselves. Birds circled above, squawking and hoping that Gabriel or Carlos would leave fresh food for them, and Gabriel shivered, the smells and sounds stronger thanks to his new heightened senses.

"This can't be a portal to Hell. This place is just gross," Gabriel mumbled.

"There has to be something here. If they wouldn't waste our time, and they want to trick us, wouldn't it be dangerous?"

Gabriel pointed to all the tourists and their boats, and exclaimed, "There are people here! Who hangs out somewhere dangerous!?!"

"I mean… I guess you're right… We should at least try a little before leaving."

Careful to not step on any half-eaten food or wrappers, they walked towards the rooftop exit. The only form of security the hotel had was a door bolted down in various places, and a strange mechanism on it that let out a malodorous scent, like a burnt, overdone meal.

Several signs in various languages warning of danger covered the door, but Carlos ignored them. He had been alive for two centuries, danger now a foreign concept, the warning stickers nothing but decorative.

Carlos made the mistake of touching the door's handle.

His hair burst into flames, and he screamed, volts of electricity coursing through his body, making it twitch and spasm. His corneas were fried, now orange, and he fell over to the ground, his screams dying down, twitching all over the filthy ground.

Gabriel stood, in shock, not knowing what to do.

Carlos laid still on the ground, his body cooked from the inside.

Gabriel's senses came to, and he lifted his right hand towards the flaming hair. Instead of the bright, searing light that usually came out, it was cold and brutal, and the fire went out, freezing his hair to his burnt scalp.

The smell of burnt Carlos made Gabriel cry, because to him, it smelled delicious, and he held his body, waiting for him to wake up, praying that he would wake up. His bloody tears plopped onto the painted grey pavement, and he let out loud heavy sobs until a small voice called out from the dark.

Come downstairs, let me help you.

Gabriel wasn't stupid and ignored the voice.

I know you can hear me, dumbass.

Gabriel continued to ignore him.

The voice continued to ask him to come downstairs, that he could help his friend, but Gabriel believed it was a trap set up by Gio and Fiorino. They must have known that the door was electrified, or maybe they set it up themselves!

Gabriel was sure of it!

The voice calling from the door was now friendly, his voice sultry, telling him that if he came downstairs, he and his friends would be more than happy to greet Carlos on the other side of the veil.

Gabriel was starting to crack, as he sat next to Carlos, waiting for any signs of life, and was about to try to open the door, when Carlos started to move.

"Gabriel, don't touch the door," Carlos rasped.

Gabriel, open the door.

"I can hear him, don't go down there."

Gabriel, don't be a little bitch.

"It's an obvious trap. I'm just happy you're okay," Gabriel sighed.

The trash on the rooftop started to swirl, a large gust of wind pushing it all towards Carlos and Gabriel, and the voice continued to plead, beg and groan. It was boring, trapped at the fetid, decaying, and ancient landmark. The spirit needed a new audience.

The tourists that came offered no challenge to him, but he could sense something different about the two of them. Something inside them that was similar to itself.

Open the door, Gabriel. Come to me on the thirteenth floor.

Carlos coughed, the color of his eyes returning to his demonic red, and he struggled to sit up. His frozen hair melted down his face and took Gabriel by the shoulder, more concerned with his life than his own.

"There are no thirteenth floors in hotels," Carlos coughed. "Go away."

The gust of wind got even stronger, the boats started to sway against the force of the wind, and shouts could be heard from the passengers awoken by the restless spirits. Waves splashed against the sides of the Cecil Hotel, causing innocent bystanders, fish to pour onto the rooftop.

The filthy water soaked them both to the bone, and they shuddered as the wind stopped as fast as it had come. The shrieks from the boat passengers died down, and the spring air was silent once more.

Then the explosions happened.

From the other side of the rooftop, a loud splat could be heard. The sounds of loud footsteps echoed across the rooftop, size 11 footprints leaving marks on the sludgy ground. Gabriel gripped onto Carlos, looking for the source of the noise, but no one could be seen.

The little tip taps got louder, the closer the sounds came, the more the splats could be heard.

The fish were flopping around on the ground, gasping for air, and with every tip, they were crushed underneath the weight of the demonic spirit. With a tap, the entire hotel shook, more waves crashing against the side of it.

The shaking of the building pushed the fish into the air, and they exploded as they came down, with another tip.

Dread overcame Gabriel, now feeling naked and afraid, his family not there to protect him, Carlos weak and unable to fight back. The evil spirit let out loud laughter, booming through the air, shaking the waves, rocking the boats, and at once, all the fish burst, their tiny organs spilling over the roof and covering Gabriel's and Carlos's face.

Instinctively Gabriel licked his lips and grimaced, the taste not to his standards.

The tourists didn't need any more warning. One by one their motors turned on, and they couldn't leave fast enough. The thrill, the idea alone of spirits being real was enough for them, the danger of being real was not what they wanted.

Gabriel decided to make a run for it. Being a coward was better than learning the truth, and Carlos could hate him later because they would still both be alive. He carried Carlos in his arms, and stumbled upwards, trying to walk through the fish entrails and water, but another large wave came and pushed them back down.

Gabriel coughed and groaned, the salty brine filling him up, and cried when his body was dragged across the roof, towards the door. The invisible entity had an iron grip, pulling him by his arm, right back to the electrified door.

Come downstairs Gabe, we're all friends down here.

The sultry voice was inviting, almost friendly even. If not for the earlier display of power, Gabriel might have considered it. Gabriel was let go, right in front of the door, and he weighed his choices. Risk dying by opening the door, or risk being killed by some kind of invisible force.

He refused to open the door.

Gabriel got up, but a sudden force pushed down on his bare shoulders, grasping them firmly, and a soft whisper tickled his ear. Someone was fondling his hair from behind, licking his neck, and telling him that I won't kill you yet until I can see the fear in your eyes, don't worry.

The invisible molester no longer breathed down his neck, and Gabriel didn't wait to take his chance to escape. He turned to see Carlos being dragged by his feet, towards the edge of the rooftop. Carlos didn't fight too hard, too exhausted, his body still healing. Gabriel couldn't get to the other side fast enough, and with a loud splash, Carlos was thrown overboard.

The spirit was disappointed, as instead of fear, the only thing that Gabriel felt was rage.

"Don't be a coward and fight me," Gabriel screamed. "Don't go after someone who can't fight back!"

Since you asked for it.

The wind whipped the water into a frenzy, and the remaining boats tried to stay upright in the churning sea, but one by one, they sunk into the dark, murky abyss. The smell of sulfur and death overcame the stench of trash, and the rooftop emitted a soft, red glow.

Gabriel cried and fell to the ground on his knees, screaming and shouting filling his lungs, crashing into each other like the waves of the sea. Translucent red hands pushed their way through the roof, grasping in the air wildly, and they latched onto him, digging their nails into his skin.

They dragged him down with them, right into Hell itself.