Angeles Vampire

by Michael Pierce

  I hadn’t even realized I was pushing her backward until she hit the wall. It took very little effort to hold her there with my body, reminding me of just how fragile she was. I felt my hunger taking over and actively had to force myself to pull back. The temptation was too great to tear into her—then I’d just be another one of those monsters in her eyes. When I felt my fangs beginning to protrude past my other teeth, I quickly broke our union and stepped away.

  Fiona’s expectant and sorrowful eyes were fixed on me, her chest heaving, her lips swollen and red. “Don’t do that if you don’t mean it,” she said.

  “What makes you think I don’t mean it?” I asked, bringing a hand to my lips, feeling the tips of my fangs in relation to the neighboring teeth. I seemed to have held them back, which was a small comfort.

  “I don’t know,” she said as a sly grin grew on her tear-stricken face. “I just want to make sure I’m managing my expectations.”

  “That’s very wise,” I said, matching her growing smile.

  We were just about to start heading back to the elevators, when Fiona grabbed my arm. “Can I request one more favor?”

  I couldn’t imagine what else she’d want right now, and I needed to get back home, so I could satiate my thirst before it became unbearable.

  I will not give into my need tonight, I reminded myself. One day at a time.

  “Of course,” I said, my voice unsteady. “Name it and I’ll do what I can to make it happen.”

  41

  Fiona

  I stepped out of the Land Rover after asking Matthew to wait inside. It felt so strange to be back at this house. There’d never been a reason for me to return to an address I’d crossed off my list. This was the first—1302 Wheeler.

  The chalk drawings on the steep driveway were gone, washed away without a trace. The yellow compass held meaning for me now, even though it probably didn’t for its young artist. Now I was curious what the context had been.

  As I marched up the vertical driveway, I remembered Gillian’s long red nails and realized I hadn’t thought about them since the day I’d visited. Hopefully, they wouldn’t strike the same raw nerve as before.

  I removed the photograph from my back pocket and rang the doorbell. I was nervous, but it didn’t really matter what she said this time. I didn’t blame her for claiming not to know my father previously, sure that he was a sore subject, just as he was in our household. But now I knew the truth—and I still firmly believed that knowing was better than wondering.

  When Gillian opened the door, there was a moment of curiosity, then doubt, then recognition—quickly followed by irritation.

  “What are you doing back here?” she asked sourly. “I thought I made myself clear—”

  I handed her the photograph before saying a word—the one with her, Abigail, and my father.

  “I told you I didn’t recognize…” but then the people in the picture registered and she was momentarily rendered speechless. However, when her voice returned, it was in full force. “A teenage girl comes looking for my husband. What am I supposed to do with that? I assume you think he’s your long-lost father. Well, he was a father to our daughter for a number of years—that is, until he upped and left without so much as a goodbye. We’ve been through enough and don’t need someone new coming to tear our lives apart even more. We’d just like to move on in peace.”

  “I’m not here to tear your life apart,” I said. “I’m not here to villainize him. I’m here to calm your doubts and offer the closure it’s taken me years to find—probably a lot longer than he’s been gone from your lives.”

  I noticed the long red nails against the door jamb and tried not to flinch, but they weren’t rapping against the wood this time. They were still. Gillian was still, her attention fixated on me.

  “I’m listening,” she said.

  “I didn’t find Roland Damascus because there’s nothing left to find, but I found out about him. He died in October 2015. I discovered that his body has since been cremated, so there’s no burial site.”

  “That was the month he disappeared,” Gillian said, her green eyes clearly haunted by a memory.

  “He didn’t abandon you and your daughter. He wanted nothing more than to remain with his family; I’m sure of it.”

  She eyed me skeptically, but something was hitting home. A tear spilled from one eye, which she quickly wiped away as she turned toward the inside of the house to obscure my view.

  “He’s dead?” she asked as she turned back to me. “Why have I not been told this by anyone official? If he was identified, then they would have notified his family—his wife of thirteen years.”

  “Because—because his death isn’t official. It’s not officially reported. He’s just gone and there’s nothing any of us can do about it. But the important thing is he didn’t abandon you and your daughter. He’s not off starting a new family, leaving you behind. He’s gone.”

  “Is that what you believe he did to you?”

  “He never really belonged to my family, but he is my father. I had a twin sister, but she’s gone too.”

  “Okay; this is getting to be a little too much. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t come back.”

  “Who is it, Mom?” a young girl asked, entering the foyer from another room. Her hair was lighter than mine, but I could see similarities in her facial features. However, her glistening emerald eyes were all her mother’s. She looked somewhere between ten and twelve.

  “No one, honey. This girl was just leaving,” Gillian said.

  “Abigail? I’m Fiona,” I said.

  As Gillian began to shut the door in my face, I slammed my hand against it to prop it open.

  “I know about your father,” I continued, trying to get the words out swiftly—before my opportunity was gone for good. “I’m your half-sister.”

  “What? You do—you are?” Abigail gasped.

  “How dare you!” Gillian hissed and pushed harder against the door. “Stop harassing my family!”

  I finally stopped fighting and let the door slam shut. An argument ensued from inside, but the door didn’t reopen. Footsteps stomping away were audible, alongside the slamming of another door.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, more to myself than anyone else, then released the picture of their family from years past and let it float to the ground.

  Once all was quiet inside the house, I headed back to the Land Rover and hopped inside.

  “From what I can tell, that didn’t go well,” Matthew said, placing a soothing hand on my thigh.

  “It could have gone worse,” I said. “I don’t exactly know how, but I’m sure it could have. But it’s better they know.”

  “Not everyone will share that opinion,” he said as we began our drive home.

  “Just because they don’t believe it doesn’t make it any less true,” I said.

  “And I suppose you know what’s best for everyone.” Matthew laughed and slapped my thigh before returning both hands to the steering wheel.

  “I have my opinions.”

  “You’ve made that abundantly clear. Is there anything else I—your humble servant—can do for you, Your Highness?” he said sarcastically.

  “I could use an Oreo right about now,” I said—which was anything but sarcastic.

  Epilogue: Matthew

  My feelings for Fiona frightened me. She was already on Frederick’s radar. The fact this Martin Harner had most likely been eliminated was irrelevant. Even though I was sure Frederick was really behind the accident, we still couldn’t trace Martin back to Frederick, nor did we know who’d killed him. Jack had told me he’d uncovered a lead and would hopefully be updating me soon.

  I paced my prison apartment with a glass of warm wolf’s blood, waiting for the sun to go down so I didn’t have to waste another dose of Sun Serum. Even with my connections, it was often in short supply with more vampires seeking its sanctuary. The sun was on the descent and would be sinking into the Pacific within the hour.
r />   What the hell am I doing?

  I knew better than to get involved with Fiona. I’d been watching her for years, waiting for her to come of age, so she could pledge to the Society. I couldn’t lose sight of the role she needed to play when the end came. By getting romantically involved with her, I was complicating the whole situation and putting her in more danger, when I needed to be protecting her.

  But there was something about her that called to me—now that she wasn’t just some target from afar—something primal and sweet I couldn’t deny. And now the thirst, the hunger, the need had dug its claws deeper into me than ever before. The only way to keep from complete self-destruction was to abstain. I couldn’t continue this way; I had to distance myself from her. She deserved better than me anyway for her final few years on Earth—yes, for her final few years—because I knew she wasn’t going to make it onto ParallEarth with the others. She’d already be dead.

  I shook the thought away with another sip of blood, gazing out at the world through the UV reflecting glass.

  Even though I was terrified for Fiona to enter the darkness of Sisters of Mercy, it could actually work to my advantage. It might have been better not to have the staff go easy on her. Her time in confinement with the monsters she feared could provide the perfect aversion therapy to drive the much-needed wedge between us. But then I thought about Ashley and Jack, the beginning of their story, and the love they’d shared for decades.

  They’re the exception, I told myself. I’m destined to be alone.

  A buzzing interrupted my thoughts, and I crossed the room to grab my phone from the kitchen counter.

  “Jack, what do you have for me?” I asked, placing my empty glass of blood in the sink.

  “Something interesting,” he said, his voice sounding hopeful. “It may be nothing, but then again, it may be…”

  “Well, out with it, man. Don’t keep me in suspense.”

  “I just emailed you a video. Check it out on your computer; the quality’s rather poor.”

  “Fine,” I sighed and booted up my laptop. I didn’t fill the silence with small talk as I went into my email and clicked the attached video. “What am I looking at?” I asked as it began to play.

  The video was grainy and lacked sound. But it was obvious it was a feed from a surveillance camera, pointing out from a doorway. A busy street and building across the way were visible.

  “The far building you see is Martin’s apartment building,” Jack said. “Do you see a woman exiting the building?”

  “Yes,” I said. “She’s jogging across the street now.”

  “Watch her.”

  I did, hoping she would come into focus as she came closer to the camera. By the time she reached the sidewalk, I thought she looked familiar. Then when she turned and walked right past the camera I was fairly certain I recognized her, even with the pixelation.

  “Is that Susan Winter?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  I got a good glimpse of her before she strode off screen with obvious purpose. Her slender form, elegant gait, and long chestnut hair reminded me so much of Fiona. In this poor-quality video, someone who didn’t know better could have easily mistaken one for the other.

  “What’s the timestamp on this video?”

  “One day before we found Martin—or at least his apartment. We’ve had eyes on the building since then, as well as bugging his residence. There’s been no other activity so far.”

  “Where is this apartment?”

  “Diamond Bar,” Jack said. “Over a half hour from where Fiona and her mother live. That was one of the big things sparking my curiosity. What was Susan doing over there? Like I said, it may be nothing.”

  “Or it may not,” I said and played the video again.

  Ready for the next part of Fiona and Matthew’s story?

  Hey guys,

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  Read more by Michael Pierce

  ANGELES VAMPIRE

  Angeles Vampire (Book 1)

  Angeles Underground (Book 2)

  Angeles Betrayal (Book 3) - Pre-order Now!

  THE ROYAL REPLICAS SERIES

  Royal Replicas (Book 1)

  Royal Captives (Book 2)

  Royal Threat (Book 3)

  Royal Return (Book 4)

  THE LORNE FAMILY VAULT SERIES

  Provex City (Book 1)

  SUSY Asylum (Book 2)

  Doria Falls (Book 3)

  Archanum Manor (Book 4)

  About the Author

  Michael Pierce loves stories that are thrilling and unexpected, romantic and fantastical—addictive tales that will keep you reading long past the witching hour.

  He currently lives in Southern California with his wife, kids, and two blood-thirsty chiweenies.

  When he's not at the computer, he enjoys spending quality time with family, practicing yoga, playing guitar behind closed doors, and listening to audiobooks.

  Connect with him online:

  michaelpierceauthor.com

  michael@michaelpierceauthor.com