Angeles Covenant

by Michael Pierce

  “You don’t happen to have any aspirin, do you?” he asked when he exited the bathroom and hopped onto his bed, only a few feet from mine.

  “I left my purse at home,” I said. “So, I don’t have much of anything. But I’ve got money and I can go out and get whatever we need in a little bit.”

  “You don’t have to buy me stuff. I’ve got money.”

  “We can fight about that later,” I said.

  “I don’t want to fight. We’ve done enough fighting, don’t you think?” He lay his head on the pillow and turned to face my bed.

  “I agree. I don’t want to fight, and I wish you could go back to your normal life. But like me, that’s probably not going to happen.” I lay on my side too, kicking off my shoes, and folding my legs.

  “I feel like normal is a thing of the past. After what I’ve seen...”

  What he’s seen… I thought. He hadn’t seen anything yet. If he didn’t know he’d been held captive by vampires, then he hadn’t seen anything. I had to tell him, but didn’t know how to start. I remembered when I’d found out—when Matthew had fought Vladimir in the gymnasium with the strange collapsible swords. There wasn’t an easy explanation, and denial and disbelief were too easy to come by with words alone.

  Sean was fading fast. Luckily, he wasn’t going to push me to explain everything just yet. I got up and approached his bed. He gave me a questioning look but didn’t speak. Then I proceeded with removing his shoes and helping him under the covers.

  “You deserve some rest,” I said, giving him a kiss on the side of the head, then returning to my bed.

  “I know we need stuff, but don’t leave me,” he said, barely able to keep his eyes open.

  “I won’t,” I said. “I’ll be right here. Get some sleep.”

  7

  Susan

  I drove Taylor back to Fangloria after we put on disguises from my assortment of clothes, makeup, and props at the staging apartment. She was a bombshell of a blonde, but she’d been just as much of a bombshell as a redhead, which was a little irritating. I also changed the shape of her nose, chin, and coloring to complete the look. It wasn’t my best work, but someone would have to look hard to recognize something about her was amiss. I’d have to pick up the minivan later.

  As expected, Frederick wasn’t at the club after the night we’d had. After parting ways with Taylor, whom I was eager to rid myself of, I searched out Ajah to make sure Sean was gone and got her general impressions of how that interaction went.

  “I think he’s a good kid,” she said. “He’s scared. Don’t think he’ll say anything.”

  “He is a good kid,” I said. “That’s what made this so hard. He should have never been involved.”

  “Hey; I help take care of the ones already here. I don’t bring them in.”

  “I know. I’m not blaming you.”

  I let Ajah get back to sleep and went back to my car. Before returning to Orange County, I checked my phone. Still no replies from Fiona. I shouldn’t be expecting any, but I could hope. Then I brought up my tracking app, which showed me the location of a few marks—one was the van Fiona had driven last night and another was Sean’s Hyundai.

  Fiona’s van was now sitting in a towed yard, and video from the dashboard showed she’d exited the vehicle. She hadn’t been captured, but I didn’t know where she’d gone.

  As for Sean, the map showed me he was at a Starbucks in Santa Ana. It was on my way home, so as I drew close, I checked the app again to see if he was still there. After confirming his car hadn’t moved, I took the freeway off-ramp and headed to the coffee shop. I saw his car parked behind the dumpsters, but I parked out front with everybody else.

  It was a typical coffeeshop madhouse when I arrived, with the line nearly to the door and baristas yelling over each other to take the orders of multiple customers simultaneously. The music was loud, with just too much energy in here for eight o’clock in the morning. I could handle this at midnight, but not this early. It was especially hard since I’d been up all night—something that was beginning to take its toll at my age. Ten years ago, sure, I’d still be going strong. Now, I needed stimulants to get going.

  I first walked past the line to check the lobby and make sure Sean was actually here. And I found him in a cushioned chair around the corner, barely conscious himself, with a paper coffee cup teetering on one thigh.

  Why hadn’t he gone home? This certainly wasn’t his local Starbucks, so why here? Was he waiting for someone? My daughter, perhaps?

  Convinced he wasn’t going to run off while I waited in line for coffee, I trudged to the end of the line, behind a mother and young daughter wearing a Sofia the First backpack.

  “I’m bored,” the girl whined. “The line’s so long. It’s gonna take forever.”

  “Go take a look at the pastry case and tell me what you want,” her mother said. “Then you can sit over there and wait for me.”

  “Don’t want to.” The little girl gave a dramatic sigh, reminding me of Fiona when she was younger. I could definitely relate to the moodiness. But I smiled nonetheless, remembering when we’d been inseparable.

  I ordered an Americano with an extra shot since I didn’t know how long this stakeout was going to last. I needed to know what he was up to and if he’d been in contact with Fiona. After intense concern for his safety, I couldn’t imagine her not checking up on him. And since Fiona obviously wanted nothing to do with me, then Sean just might be my best chance to make sure she was safe.

  I claimed a table with a discarded newspaper on the far side of the lobby from where Sean was sitting. He barely moved for the next hour, completely oblivious to all the commotion around him. At one point, it looked like one of the baristas cleaning the lobby was going to say something to him, but then she seemed to think better of it.

  But a few minutes later, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a buzzing phone, and brought it to his ear. When I looked at the pickup counter, I could see him in my periphery. I did my best to block out the ambient noise.

  “Fiona?” he asked right off the bat. Well, that was easy. Then it seemed she was making some snide comments about Starbucks—just like my coffee snob of a daughter.

  The conversation didn’t last more than a minute, at which time, Sean dropped his head back onto the cushion. From the side of the conversation I’d heard, I believed she was on her way over here, which was exactly what I’d asked for. So I went back to flipping through the newspaper while I waited for Fiona to arrive.

  When there was a break in the line, I got a coffee refill instead of paying for another Americano. I also opted for an oatmeal, so there could be something else in my stomach besides coffee to help counteract my acid reflux—another sign I could no longer handle what I used to when I was younger. Aging was becoming a real bitch.

  As I’d suspected, Fiona arrived about fifteen minutes later. She was still in the same clothes I’d seen her in the night before. But she looked more alert than the rest of us. But then again, she presumably got some sleep, even if it hadn’t been her idea.

  After sharing a few words with Sean, she grabbed a couple of drinks and pastries. Then she scanned the lobby. When she locked eyes with me and walked up to my table, my body tensed. I thought I was in a good enough disguise.

  “Can I use this chair?” she asked, innocently.

  Almost laughing out loud, I cleared my throat and said, “Sure.”

  She didn’t pay me any more attention, grabbing the chair and hauling it back to where Sean was sitting, positioning it across from him.

  They shared a short and mostly one-sided conversation, then Fiona mentioned checking into a nearby motel. And a minute later they were off. Fiona led the way in some eyesore of a station wagon I’d never seen before. Sean followed in his sedan and trailer, which was easy enough not to lose.

  I stopped in a liquor store parking lot across the street from the motel they were checking into, watching as Fiona entered the room. Sean parked on a si
de street and lumbered to the room with the propped door. And once their door was closed, I sprang into action.

  From my vantage point, I noticed two other room doors open, already in the process of being cleaned by housekeeping. I drove to the motel lot and headed to the second floor with the oversized purse in which I carried my emergency supplies. I peered into the first room being cleaned, finding a short and husky Hispanic woman stripping the bed.

  “Sorry,” I said when she noticed me spying on her. “Wrong room.”

  I continued to the next room being turned over at the opposite end of the building. In this room, I found another Hispanic woman, but this one closer to my size.

  The woman was only alerted to my presence by the sound of the door closing. She didn’t look concerned as much as she did confused—that was until I removed the handgun from my bag and pointed the barrel in her direction.

  “Please don’t hurt me,” she exclaimed as she raised her gloved hands, still holding the rag she’d been using to wipe down the bathroom counter.

  “That depends entirely on how well you cooperate,” I said coldly.

  “Anything.”

  “Strip,” I said. “I need your clothes.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said, almost in tears now.

  “I didn’t ask you to understand. I asked you to remove your clothes. You can leave your underwear on. Quickly now.” I dropped the bag on the bed and took a few steps closer as she hastily removed her uniform, which only consisted of a starchy, navy blue dress. She had on pantyhose, but I wasn’t going to take them. I’d try her shoes, but if they didn’t fit, I could get away with my boots. By the time anyone even noticed my shoes, it wouldn’t matter.

  She passed me the dress, which I tossed onto the bed, then I instructed her to go into the bathroom. I followed her in with a roll of duct tape, had her kneel before the toilet, rest her head on the seat, and extend her arms on either side of the basin. They didn’t quite reach all the way around the toilet, but I had enough duct tape to secure each wrist and bunch up the tape between them to create a rope circling the back of the toilet and through the water pipe extending into the wall. Then I stuffed a facecloth into her mouth and secured it with more tape.

  “I shouldn’t be long, but if I hear so much as a peep from you, then I’ll be sure to shoot you in the head before I make my escape. Are we clear?”

  The woman nodded awkwardly with her cheek against the toilet seat.

  Before leaving, I flipped on the overhead fan and closed the bathroom door. I changed out of my clothes and slipped on the dress, which was a little loose, but nothing too obvious. Her feet were surprisingly small, so I couldn’t fit into her shoes. I had no choice but to keep on my boots.

  I peered into the outside walkway, and once I’d confirmed there was no one around, I retrieved the housekeeping cart parked outside the door. I checked the dress pocket for the master room key, then grabbed a small stack of fresh towels, threw my bag on my shoulder, and proceeded to Fiona’s downstairs room.

  I lightly knocked on the door. “Housekeeping,” I announced.

  A few moments later, the door opened a crack—as far open as the security chain would allow.

  “We’re good,” Fiona said. “We don’t need anything.”

  “I forgot to change out the towels,” I said. “I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to disturb you. If you just let me bring them in, then I’ll be out of your way in a jiffy. Then I can cross the room off my list.”

  “It’s okay. We’re fine,” she insisted.

  “Then can I just hand them to you?” I asked, politely.

  “Yeah; I guess.” Fiona sighed, closed the door so she could unlatch the security chain, then reopened it. I handed her the stack of towels, but before she could do anything else, I pushed her into the room and let myself in.

  “Hey! What the hell?” Fiona cried, stumbling backward, yet retaining enough balance to remain on her feet.

  “Shut up, Fiona,” I said as I closed the door behind me.

  Her eyes finally went wide with recognition. “Mom?”

  8

  Fiona

  I couldn’t believe we’d been followed here after all—and by my own mother of all people. I had thought her voice sounded familiar, but with whatever disguise she’d concocted, it didn’t click until she said my name.

  “What are you doing here?” I demanded. “And what the hell are you wearing?”

  “I stole a uniform from a maid upstairs,” she said, nonchalantly. She remained in front of the door, as if barring our escape.

  “Wait—you were at the coffee shop, weren’t you?” This was getting more frustrating by the second. “How did you find us?”

  “I put a tracker on Sean’s car. I checked on him and saw he didn’t go home, so wanted to see if he was meeting up with you. I had to see you,” she said. “I needed to know you were all right after… after everything that happened. You weren’t returning my messages and—”

  “I wasn’t returning your messages because I’m done with you. After everything that happened was you betrayed me—again—and I’m not gonna keep listening to your excuses. I’m doing this for us. I’m doing this for you.”

  “Ms. Winter?” Sean asked, now sitting up on the bed.

  “Come on, Sean. We should be past this by now. Call me Susan.”

  “Mom, you need to leave,” I snapped. “And take that tracker off his car. We don’t need you keeping tabs on us. And with that, I have nothing more to say to you. I want nothing to do with you anymore. I don’t need anything from you anymore. And you can tell Frederick—or Damien or whatever he wants to call himself now—if I see him again, I’ll kill him myself.”

  “I understand you’re upset,” she said. “And I’m sorry. It was Frederick’s decision to execute the plan the way we ultimately did. I had no choice. This was his one shot to get to the portal, and he believed this would be our best chance for success.”

  “Well congratulations. You did it. You’ve seen the future and all the mayhem you’ll be responsible for. Give yourself a pat on the back. You’ve done a great job. You should be nominated for Mother of the Year.” I paused, staring daggers at her. She was thinking of a response that wouldn’t make her sound like a total bitch, but I kept going. “How did you do it? That’s the part of the story I’m missing. I thought I was the internal contact. But you obviously didn’t need me to get to the portal. So, who got you in while I was being set up?”

  “Taylor,” she said.

  “Taylor? No wonder she kept looking at me weird. She’s in the Society? I thought she’d looked familiar, but I couldn’t place her. I probably passed her in the hall at some point and never connected the dots.”

  “She had a thing for Matthew. They used to be… well, together, I guess.” Mom looked like she was trying to be empathetic.

  “I thought she’d said Matthew that one time! That lying bitch!” For a moment, I didn’t know who I was more furious with—Taylor or my mother.

  “She’s the one who played me at the club,” Sean interjected, causing us both to turn in his direction. “And I think she’s the one who jumped me in Baker.”

  “I never liked her,” Mom said. “But Frederick seems to enjoy her company—her and her friend, Lacy. When he discovered she had a Society tattoo—”

  “Is that what that compass was?” Sean asked.

  Mom nodded.

  “Like this?” I asked, making my tattoo appear. His jaw nearly hit the bed.

  “How did you do that?” Sean asked. “That’s what it was like with her. I never noticed it before… and then it was just there.”

  “It has magical properties because of the angel blood,” I said, casually, and squeezed my wrist to make it disappear.

  Sean was speechless.

  “Are you sure you should be showing him these things?” Mom asked, incredulously.

  “Because all the secrets have worked so well in the past?” I countered. “He was abducted and
held by vampires and you think he should still be kept in the dark regarding what’s really going on? I think he deserves to know the truth.”

  “I… umm… I think I should lie down…” Sean stammered. “In the last few sentences, you’ve mentioned vampires, angels, and magic. Please tell me you’re joking. You guys are just caught up with the mafia or something. Dangerous men paying off the police and government officials to preserve their criminal enterprise. That’s why you can’t rat them out. Dangerous, but not supernatural. Right?” His pleading eyes started with me, then moved to Mom.

  “Do you want me to tell you what you want to hear—or tell you the truth?” I asked.

  “I—I want the truth to be something I want to hear.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t do that. The truth is freakin’ crazy,” I said. “But we don’t have to get into everything now.” I turned back to Mom. “It’s time for you to leave. You got what you wanted. I’m alive. Your vampire master got his trip through the portal. So now you can get the hell out of my life.”

  “I didn’t get what I wanted,” Mom said, sadly. “I don’t want to get the hell out of your life. I want you in my life. I’ve always wanted you in my life. You’re my little girl—you always will be. You and me against—”

  “No! Don’t you dare!” I snapped. “You can’t keep saying that to me. It’s not true—now, I don’t know if it ever was.”

  “Of course, it was,” Mom said.

  “Just get out,” I insisted, pushing past her to reach the door. She didn’t try to stop me even though I now knew she probably could have. I had a feeling she was pretty formidable, something else I hadn’t previously known about her. I opened the door, stood to the side, and glowered at her. “Out. And remove the tracker. If I see you again, it will be too soon.”

  “I’m your mother,” she said, bringing a palm to my cheek—at which I defiantly pulled back to keep her hands off me. “You will see me again, whether you like it or not. But I’ll give you your space.”