Angeles Covenant

by Michael Pierce

  The next person I needed to check up on—even if I was the last person he’d want to hear from—was Sean. Frederick had made the call to free him before I’d left for the Society compound, but I had no way of knowing if those orders were actually carried out until I spoke with him directly. This meant a text wouldn’t be enough. Someone else could be monitoring his phone. So, I made the call.

  “Fiona?” the voice was Sean’s, even though he sounded weird—drunk, sleep deprived, or some other form of delirium.

  “Please tell me you’re away from the club,” I said so frantically that I jumbled all the words together.

  “I’m out. They let me go last night.”

  “Then are you home?”

  “No. I’m sitting at a Starbucks.”

  “A Starbucks… why?” I sounded more offended than I’d intended.

  “Because it has people in it—oh, and I was kicked out of the all-night diner I was in earlier.”

  “Why didn’t you go home?”

  “Because I don’t know if it’s safe. They threatened my family if I ever spoke of the club to anyone. Where are you?”

  “Sitting in my car. Well, not my car—a car I was loaned for the time being. Nowhere is safe for me either right now.” I paused, listening to the background noise of a busy coffee shop—certainly busier than Hot Coffee got even during its peak hours. Sean did nothing more than breathe into the phone. “Which Starbucks are you at? I’ll come pick you up. Safety in numbers, right? And besides, I think we should talk.”

  No more secrets.

  5

  Sean

  A few hours after Fiona and her mother left, I received another visitor. Entering the room was a pretty, dark-skinned girl with long braided hair, named Ajah. I’d only met her a couple of times, but like everyone else who seemed to work here, she made an impression. Unfortunately, she hadn’t come alone. The monstrous bouncer who’d frisked me at the door when I’d first arrived strolled in behind her. He literally had to duck to fit through the door. Immediately, my heart rate sped up. My first thought was that her choice of back-up didn’t seem like a good sign.

  “It’s Sean, right?” Ajah asked.

  “Yeah,” I said timidly.

  “Today’s your lucky day. You’ve been released.” She produced a sweet smile, which was terribly disarming on its own. However, coupled with the bouncer standing directly behind her, I found it rather unnerving.

  I remained frozen on the couch. “Just like that, I’m free to go?”

  “Just like that,” she repeated.

  “What about my stuff?”

  “Everything’s waiting for you in your car.” Then she placed her hands on her hips, her smile fading. “I thought I was bringing good news. I figured you’d be a little happier.”

  “If I really get to leave and you’re giving me back all my stuff, then I’m ecstatic. I’m sorry if this place has made me a little… skeptical.” I felt my legs shaking and hoped it wasn’t noticeable.

  “I promise you, this isn’t a trick,” she said, then glanced back at the bouncer. “But I hope it goes without saying that you never speak about this place or anything that happened here to anyone. You’re safe as long as we’re safe. Remember that we have all your information. We know where you’re enrolled for college. We know your address. We know your parents: Mark and Helen. We know your two younger sisters: Emma and Erica. We even know you have a yellow lab named Fabio—very cute, by the way. So, keep these things in mind before uttering the name Fangloria to anyone. Do you understand everything I’ve just told you?”

  “Yes,” I said, feeling a lump in my throat.

  Ajah nodded to the bouncer, who then stalked out of the room. When she returned her attention to me, she said, “Perhaps you’ll want to return on your own. I heard you had a fun experience the first night. Perhaps we can fulfill another fantasy. You know where to find us.” She held the door open. “Ready to go?”

  The departure of the bouncer calmed my nerves and I was eager to follow her and quickly put as much room between me and this prison as possible.

  The club was already open for business with the tribal music thrumming throughout the hallways. We walked through several of the occupied rooms, which now left me with a strange mixture of emotions—pleasure and pain, passion and punishment, intoxication and terror. I had to tell myself it was all a mirage. My night with Taylor and Lacy wasn’t real. But looking at all the scantily-clad occupants made me think that maybe it could be.

  Ajah guided me through a side door, leaving the flashing lights and overpowering music behind. We emerged into an alleyway between several dilapidated buildings. It almost didn’t feel safe walking out here by ourselves, but like Taylor, I figured Ajah was more formidable than she appeared.

  “It’s just over here,” she said as we rounded another building. She removed a small clicker from her pants pocket, triggering a motorized garage door to open.

  The inside of the building was not much more than a skeleton, with concrete columns and steel beams positioned in regular intervals throughout the open floorplan. However, the building also served as a parking garage, housing at least forty to fifty vehicles. And there was my Hyundai Sonata at the far end with the U-Haul trailer still attached.

  “The keys are inside,” Ajah said. “So is your wallet and cell phone, though it probably needs to be charged by now.

  I opened the driver’s side door and peered inside. Everything she’d just mentioned was in the center cup holders. I tentatively turned back to her. “I can really go?” I asked. It was still hard to accept this was happening. I hadn’t been a prisoner for that long, but I was already coming to believe I’d never see freedom again, even with Fiona’s and her mother’s assurances to the contrary.

  Instead of answering the question, she simply said, “Out of the garage, take a right, then your first left. It will lead you back to the main parking lot and you should be able to find the gate from there. Once outside the gate, I wouldn’t linger too long in this neighborhood—especially at this time of night. Be safe, Sean.” Without saying anything more, Ajah turned and strolled back toward the open garage door, her high heels clicking loudly against the stained concrete.

  It was nearly midnight by the time I reached the on-ramp to the 101. I was heading in the direction of home, but couldn’t decide if I should really return there. I felt I’d be putting my family in danger by returning to them. My fall semester at NYU was probably shot from the classes I’d already missed, so that seemed like a lost cause too. Hopefully, I could get my fall tuition refunded.

  I was also wary to brave the solitary cross-country trip again. I already had too many nightmares of being nabbed in broad daylight. With that only happening a few hours from home, I didn’t want to think about what could happen to an 18-year-old boy from California alone in the middle of the great American heartland.

  Somehow, my time in there changed everything and nothing made sense. I’d seen some weird stuff in there that I still couldn’t explain. Then there was the question of how Fiona and her mother were involved. Even though I never saw him, I knew Matthew was somehow involved too. He had to be.

  I drove back to familiar territory but didn’t go home. Instead, I found a busy all-night diner that I’d gone to once after a party, when I was supposed to be spending the night at Harrison’s. But I hadn’t even hung out with Harrison that night. I was with Fiona and Alexis. Candace had elected not to come, due to some drama with her on-and-off-again boyfriend, if I remembered correctly.

  Due to the trailer I was hauling, I had to park in the back where there was enough room for my car to stretch across four or five spaces. I wasn’t counting. My phone was now halfway recharged, and the messages and alerts were still rolling in.

  Once I got inside, the hostess said I could sit wherever, so I found an empty booth, not wanting to sit next to other lonely patrons at the diner bar. I knew I still had a long night ahead of me, so I started with a coffee and said I needed
time to look over the menu.

  Instead of moving on to the menu, I started scrolling through messages, missed calls, emails, and notifications from a hundred different apps. At least people seemed to notice I was gone. I would have a lot of explaining to do, but it felt good to know I hadn’t been forgotten. Hopefully, my face wasn’t on a missing child’s poster somewhere.

  The middle-aged waitress returned shortly with my black coffee, a container of sugar and sugar substitute packets, and a bowl of disposable creamers. “Are you ready to order, hun?” she asked while glancing around the bustling dining room, obviously distracted.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I haven’t even opened the menu yet. I’ll need a couple more minutes.”

  She didn’t say anything else as she stomped off with a sigh. And she didn’t become any more welcoming after I’d ordered my food.

  Every time she passed by my table, I asked for a refill of coffee. I only ate a small portion of the food, then pushed the plate aside. When another server tried to take it, I told him I was still working on it. But after an hour, I had no more excuses and the plate was confiscated.

  The only person I texted at this time of night was Harrison. After what had happened to me, I needed to make sure he didn’t befall some similar fate. Due to the night owl he was, he texted back within minutes, wondering why I’d been MIA for the past week. It had been longer than that, but he obviously wasn’t counting the week or so it should have taken me to reach New York. But the important thing was that he seemed fine.

  After another hour, the diner was starting to clear out. It passed the point of being late, now heading toward early. I couldn’t stop my hands from shaking from all the coffee I’d drunk. I was now trying to balance it with water, but all that did was increase my visits to the restroom.

  After one such visit, I returned to my table cleared of all dishes, with the check waiting for me. I’d still had a half a cup of coffee—not that I could still drink it without feeling sick.

  When my server walked by again, I said, “I wasn’t done. Can I get another coffee?”

  “You’ve bled us dry of coffee,” she said without a hint of sarcasm.

  “I can see the pots still full behind the counter.”

  “So you can… Well, I’m cutting you off anyway. You’ve been here for almost three hours. This is a diner, not a homeless shelter. It’s time to pay your bill and keep moving.”

  “Wow… okay…” I said, thinking I’d never treat a customer like this at my restaurant—what used to be my restaurant. “I want to speak to the manager.”

  “He doesn’t work graveyard. Sorry, hun.”

  “Then the shift supervisor. There’s got to be someone—”

  “The lead’s on break. I can call the police if you want. We reserve the right to refuse service. Do I need to make that call? I’m not in the mood for teenage shenanigans.”

  “Whatever. You’re a real piece of work—you know that?” I pulled out my wallet and threw a twenty on the table. I had no intention of waiting for my change even though this awful server didn’t deserve even a dime tip.

  As I was leaving, I noticed her taking a picture of me with her cellphone. “Seriously? What’s wrong with you?” I snapped as I shoved open the glass door. I flipped her off, hoping she got that in one of her pictures.

  Now I had an adrenaline spike rivaling the shakes from the caffeine as I made my way back to my car. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d followed me out to make extra sure I was really leaving. I would have had some choice words for her if she did, but she didn’t. Her line of defense must have been the front door.

  I didn’t linger in the parking lot, half expecting the police to show up anyway. I didn’t need any trouble with law enforcement; that was not the call I wanted my parents to receive.

  I didn’t have to drive far to find a Starbucks. The parking lot was dark, but I went in anyway and parked out of sight from the street. In two hours, this place would be as busy as anywhere around and people hung out at them all the time, so I couldn’t see myself getting kicked out.

  I wanted to be around as many people as possible until the sun came up, then I could work out a real plan of what to do next.

  The one person I hadn’t heard from was Fiona. Maybe she didn’t know I’d been set free? Maybe whatever mission I’d been held for had failed—but if that were the case, I wouldn’t have been let go, right? Maybe I was let go as some kind of bait. My mind was reeling from the possibilities. This was why I couldn’t go home. Just because I didn’t see anyone following me, didn’t mean no one was watching.

  Hurry up and open already! I was going to drive myself crazy sitting alone in this dark, empty lot.

  6

  Fiona

  I found Sean in the Starbucks lobby amidst a sea of patrons with laptops—students, entrepreneurs, and wannabe authors, all pretending to be productive in a public environment. The music pumping through the speakers had a jazzy feel to it. And a hoard of people was standing by the handoff bar as cups were set down and names announced. Sean was in one of the four comfy chairs, his head leaning lazily against the back cushion. He was balancing a coffee cup on his knee and looking like he could pass out at any moment. I couldn’t even tell if he recognized me as I stood over him.

  “You look terrible,” I said. “Need a refill? I’m buying.”

  “Upside down Caramel Macchiato—decaf,” he said, rattling off the name like he’d ordered it a thousand times.

  “Are you sure you want decaf?”

  “Trust me,” he said and took a sip of the coffee in his hand.

  I went to order my specialty white mocha, praying they didn’t screw it up, and Sean’s Starbucks signature drink. Now that I had cash, I could order what I actually wanted. I didn’t know if Sean was hungry or not, but I bought us each a slice of pumpkin loaf just in case.

  When I returned to Sean, he was sitting up straighter and tapping his feet a mile a minute. Yeah; maybe he’d had enough caffeine after all.

  “Here you go,” I said, offering him the drink.

  He set the old cup beside the chair and took the new one. “Thanks,” he said and brought the paper cup to his lips.

  “I also got you a snack,” I said, dropping the bag with his pumpkin loaf slice into his lap. “Have you been up all night?”

  He nodded while he peered into the bag. His eyes lit up when he saw what I’d bought for him, then he broke off a piece and popped it into his mouth.

  “So… kicked out of a diner, eh?”

  “It’s not a homeless shelter,” he said dryly.

  “And a Starbucks is?”

  “The people are nicer here—at least, they’re supposed to be.”

  “This place is the enemy,” I said with a smirk.

  “It’s a coffee shop and we both like coffee.”

  “Corporate sellout,” I said and laughed as I took a sip of my white mocha that was almost as good as Candace would’ve made—but not quite.

  Since the comfy chair next to him was taken, I found a vacant one at a table across the lobby and dragged it over to where Sean was sitting.

  “Are you okay?” I asked. “I mean, really okay?”

  “I shouldn’t be scarred for life, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said, looking over at me, then instantly regretting his choice of words. “They didn’t do anything to hurt me after the first few days—no one laid a hand on me once you came into the picture. But you need to tell me, who were those people? They held me hostage. They threatened my family. You said they’re too dangerous to get the police involved. Who are they? What is that place? It’s no ordinary club.”

  “You’re right about that,” I said. “It’s about as far from an ordinary club as you can get.” I glanced around at all the people occupying the lobby. Even though they all seemed to be engrossed in their own work and conversations, I knew a thing or two about the temptations of eavesdropping. “I’ll tell you everything, but I can’t do it here. What
are you planning to do next?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t been able to think clearly enough to figure out my next move. I don’t know if it’s safe to go home. I don’t know if somebody is watching me. I just don’t know anything right now.”

  “I don’t think anyone’s following you,” I said. “But I do think you need to be careful. I need to find a place to stay—a motel or something. Want to come with me? We can talk. You can get some sleep. Then you can be in a better frame of mind to decide what’s next.”

  “I think I passed a motel on my way here.”

  “It’s probably as good as anything,” I said, took out my phone, and brought up the Maps app. Sure enough, there was a motel a mere half-mile away. It had a combined rating of two and a half stars, but at this point I’d take convenience over luxury.

  After finishing our coffees, we both drove to the nearby motel, which was as seedy as I’d expected, and I checked us into a room with twin beds. The clerk told me I was lucky he wasn’t filled up last night, but there just happened to be one room available. I knew it was a line and thought it would be lucky if this place was ever filled up. He also wanted a credit card for incidentals, but changed his tune with a two-hundred-dollar cash deposit. I was able to park right outside the door, but Sean’s car with the trailer had to park on a side street.

  I left the door open as I brought in the few items from my car and stuffed them in the nightstand drawer, next to the obligatory copy of The Bible. Then I claimed the bed closest to the door.

  Sean shuffled in a few minutes later, closed the door, and set the security chain. When he turned to me, he had a half smile. “No funny business,” he said, then went straight for the bathroom.

  “That goes for you too,” I said, loud enough for him to hear behind the closed bathroom door.