Angel's Guardian: A Contemporary Vampire Romance

by Zeecé Lugo

  His thighs and backside were pale white and flawless, his muscles firm and sculpted, and there was nothing but smooth skin between his head and his toes. When he peeked behind him, he saw that she was looking her fill.

  “Well?” he asked as he tried to get in the bed without flashing his bits and pieces.

  “Well what?” she asked.

  “Did you see anything you haven’t seen before? I bet not different but way bigger.” He was trying to cover his embarrassment with bravado.

  Angel bent to pick up his clothes and fold them to place them on the chair. She lowered her eyes and seemed to think about the answer, a tiny smile making her lips twitch at the corners.

  “No, not different. I can’t say for bigger, as I saw nothing dangling, but God, did I see white! If I saw you walking away naked in the dark, I would think two full moons were rising.”

  Max almost choked on his laughter. The little female may look meek, but she had spunk. He liked spunk. She was going to need spunk. His anger disappeared.

  There was only one stab wound, and it was about an inch wide and still bleeding. She cleaned the wound with alcohol and dabbed it generously with peroxide before covering it with gauze and pressing her fist to it to apply pressure.

  “You need a doctor’s care,” she cautioned in a low voice, afraid to anger him again. “It may be a deep wound.”

  “No. I heal almost miraculously by your standards. By tomorrow morning, there will be no trace of this injury. Honestly, I’ve had hundreds worse than this, sword injuries that no human would survive.”

  “Do you need blood to get better? You can have mine.”

  Max felt ashamed of himself. He’d reacted meanly to her concern. He’d been alone for so long, he no longer knew how to deal with the gentler sex.

  “I’m sorry. I’m no longer used to living with others. You were kind, and I was mean. I took plenty of blood. Now my body just needs a few hours to fix the damage. Don’t worry. Your benefactor isn’t about to die and leave you and your little ones unprotected.” He smiled at her reassuringly.

  “How about infection?” she insisted.

  “We don’t get any. At least, not the ones your people get. Honest. I wish I could say the same for pain. It hurt like hell. It still does.” He repositioned himself, wincing again.

  “Poor vampire,” she crooned, brushing his unkempt hair away from his face, her own loose, dark mane spilling over her shoulder. Max was startled by the gesture and the warm pleasure it gave him. He grunted a little, giving the impression that the pain was strong, and she once again brushed his hair and crooned over him.

  She fixed the cover around him and placed another pillow under his head. She sat by his side, brushing her hand over his hair when ever he whimpered in pain and checking his wound once in a while. He made it a point to whimper often and was pleasantly rewarded by her soothing touches and concern.

  He slept all day. When evening came, Nina came to wake him up. He felt full of energy, the wound barely visible.

  “Can you set up the TV now? Mommy tried, but it’s too heavy for her.”

  “Yes. Give me a few minutes to get dressed.”

  “OK,” she said, but she made no move to leave.

  “Nina, little girls do not look at naked men. You go down, or I can’t get dressed.”

  “Oh. Why can’t we? I watch my mother get dressed. I see baby Marco’s wee-wee all the time.”

  “Because it’s not proper, not right. Little girls should never see a man naked, and they never let a man see them naked. If a man tries to see you naked, you tell your mommy or me, and I’ll kill him. Little Marco isn’t a man, so it doesn’t count.”

  Nina looked serious for a moment, then she turned and left.

  CHAPTER 13

  The house smelled differently. The scent of pine permeated the air. The polished wood floor shined to a high gloss. The pallet was gone, most likely to the furnace. The mattress in the corner was neatly covered and made up like a bed. From the kitchen, the sounds of water running and the TV could be heard.

  “Why does my home smell of pine?” he asked gruffly. From her place at the table where she sat playing with her Frozen doll as she watched the movie again, Nina looked up and beamed at him.

  She scooted down her chair and ran to wrap her little arms around his legs in a surfeit of joy and excitement. Not being cruel enough to meet such childish affection with rejection, Max sighed and picked up the child. If he was honest with himself, he was very fond of Nina and her shows of affection. He would miss her when they left. On the table, little Marco slept peacefully in his carrier. He would miss him too. Not his poop, thou. That he would never miss.

  “It smells wonderful, doesn’t it?” remarked Angel as she wiped the counter. “Pine reminds me of Christmas. I use pine cleaner on everything. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve been cleaning the first floor. I can’t believe the amount of dust and cob webs I found. I also opened up a couple of windows to let in some fresh air.”

  Max looked around and saw the difference. Everything sparkled clean. The air smelled fresh. There was a lived-in feel to the kitchen that was absent before. Because there was no furniture in the living room, he had installed the TV on one side of the long kitchen counter, facing the dining table. The little family was spending most of the time in the spacious kitchen.

  “Never open drapes during the day. I come down often, and daylight is blinding and painful to me.”

  “Oh, no. I opened them after the sun went down.” Angel was quick to explain. “If there are things I should not do, you can make a list. I promise to follow your rules, what ever they may be.”

  “There are rules,” he said as he placed Nina back on her chair. “I have enemies. There are others like me who will jump at the chance to use any vulnerabilities I may have. There are things you must learn to stay safe.”

  Angel stopped wiping counters and gazed at Max, the sudden anxiety clear on her dark, beautiful eyes. “Others like you? Here in New York? Are there many?”

  “No, not many. But with beings as powerful as we are, one is too many.”

  “Are they all as kind and good as you?”

  “Do not be naive, girl.” He gave her a scalding, disapproving look. “I’m neither kind nor good. My actions where you and your children are concerned have been unique and first of a kind. Memories of my mother and young brothers from centuries ago influenced my emotions and my actions, which I quickly regretted. No, we are not kind creatures.

  “We are cruel, dominant, secretive by need and nature. We live archaic, shadowy lives. We do not rampage over the lands feasting on humans at will, but we can be feral, savage when driven by fear, jealousy, or the need for self preservation.”

  “Then, I need not fear that one of your enemies will break in and slaughter us all?”

  “No, but if my enemies thought you of value to me, they would try to capture you to force me to their demands. They would kill you and the children easily if I did not comply.”

  “I see. From the frying pan into the fire. Seems I have no luck at all.” Angel smiled sadly.

  “Never, ever, invite anyone into the house: not the mailman, the electrician, the grocer’s boy, not the old and tired granny, not the neighbor’s child. A vampire may not enter a home uninvited, no matter how much it may want to, but once invited, it may come in at will, at any time. The neighbor’s kid playing with your daughter might innocently invite him in. You must impress on Nina that no one can come in. No one.”

  “What else should I know?”

  “While you’re within my threshold, you’re safe. One of my kind can not reach in and grab you. You step out, one step outside my door, and he’ll have you.”

  “So I can’t go out during the day?”

  “Of course, you can. Just like me, my enemies may only move about after sundown and before sunrise. Any other time, you can go where ever you want, but after dark, only with me.”

  “I have enemies too. Mine can mov
e around at any time, and they kill at will, in the most hideous and painful ways, without remorse. They love to torture before they kill. The men you killed that night, they were not muggers or garden-variety rapists. They were sent for us, to make a point.”

  Angel reached into a cabinet for a bottle of whiskey and poured an inch of the liquor into a tumbler and added two cubes of ice. She placed the tumbler at the table for Max, and then she sat facing him.

  Max cradled the whiskey in his hands, slowly turning the glass over and over as he looked into its amber depths. “So, you’re on the run. Tell me about it.”

  “They know I’m in the city, but I use no credit cards, no ID, nothing they can track electronically. They were watching the shelters. That’s how they found me. They know I’m broke and running out of options. This being such an upscale neighborhood, I hope they never look for me here. But I can’t hide here forever. I must decide where to go, how to get there, and how to hide once I’m there.”

  “I can help with that. I have a trusted human associate who has been with me for years. He’s adept at arranging such things. ”

  “Thank you, Max. You’re the guardian angel I never expected. I never believed vampires existed. Had I known of their existence, I would have thought them all monsters, but you’re far from that. I know you say you’re not kind or good and that I’m naive to think so, but I owe you my life, my children’s lives. I can never repay you.”

  Max turned his gaze away. Her heart-felt words embarrassed him, made his face burn with shame. He was not used to affection or warmth and did not know how to accept it.

  “So, you’re cleaning now. I should be embarrassed at the state of my home. Most of the house is empty and unused. I have no visitors to worry about, ever.”

  “I understand. I don't mind cleaning. It keeps my mind busy. Besides, it's one way I can make myself useful, and pay you back a little for all you've done for us.”

  She smiled at him, her dark eyes bright, her skin glowing. Her hair was pulled up into a thick pony tail that fell over her shoulder when she leaned over the counter. He found himself watching her every little move. She was lovely beyond words, he thought. He would miss her too.

  “Tomorrow, I’ll start on the second floor,” she said.

  “No!” Max could imagine his upstairs haven being turned upside down. “You can have full run of the first floor, but the second is mine alone. Consider it my sanctuary.”

  “Don’t be silly, Max.” Since she'd stood up to him in the matter of the cut, she was having no problem contradicting him. She'd lost all fear of him. She was now in charge. “All I mean to do is to sweep, mop, and dust. I don’t intend to disturb you in any way. When you’re not here, I can launder your bed linens, dust, and sweep. You have many years’ accumulation of cobwebs and dust in this house. I believe the upstairs rooms are in desperate need of a good airing out.”

  “Woman, I don’t like change. I’m a solitary man who needs his space and privacy. I want to help you and the kids, but I don’t take well to changes in my established routine. I don’t find it easy to make conversation. Upstairs, I work on my business transactions and investments through the internet. I read and do research. I like my ways undisturbed.”

  “I can see you don't like to make conversation. A conversation takes two people, and you like only the sound of your own voice and your own orders.” She gave him a look of exasperation. “I will keep Nina from pestering you, and I will do my best not to disturb you. If I do something that crosses the line, let me know.” She poured him another whiskey.

  ******

  Max left his home and headed out into the evening, walking confidently and with purpose. A block down the street, at the corner, a well-dressed man tilted his head to light a cigarette under the light of the street lamp. A hat shaded his face, but his profile showed a sharp, clean-shaven jaw. He then checked his watch and continued his stroll down the block. Max's senses perked up.

  Max kept up his steady but unhurried pace, scanning every dark entrance, every alley, every rooftop. Six blocks down, he crossed the street and began walking back, his eyes never still. He passed his own townhouse and continued down another six blocks, before crossing the street again and doubling back. Two blocks from his house, he stopped at the little flower shop.

  “Open late, Mrs. Miller?” he hulked over the old lady whose little shop, overflowing with flowers, was the virtual boutonniere on the austere fabric of the upscale, brownstone neighborhood.

  “What else is there to do, Max?” she answered, her twinkling blue eyes, orange-dyed hair, and hot-pink lipstick standing out in a tiny, wrinkled face covered with heavy, pancake makeup. Mrs. Miller was old, but she loved her makeup and colorful clothing. “Here I can watch the world go by, make small talk with the occasional customer, and enjoy the fresh air. How have you been? I’ve not seen you lately.”

  “I’ve been fine, just fine. I have company staying with me, you know. An old friend died some months back, and his widow and children are with me for a while.” Max had a penchant for white lies; they rolled easily off his lips.

  “Oooh, kiddies in the bachelor’s pad.” The old woman chuckled, and Max nodded in agreement.

  “Mrs. Miller, have you noticed any strange men hanging around the neighborhood? Anyone asking questions? Maybe not strange, but someone not familiar?”

  The old woman looked up with a spark of interest. “Yes, now that you ask, I have.” She pulled closer as if to tell a secret. “There was a man came in earlier, and he bought a few carnations. He pulled out a picture of a young woman, a dark, pretty girl, maybe Italian or Hispanic. He asked if I’d seen her, and he made it seem as if he was an investigator looking for a missing girl. I have not seen her, of course, and told him so.”

  “What did this man look like?”

  “Middle height, well dressed in a wool coat, dress shoes, tie.”

  “Did he wear a hat?”

  “Yes, he did! And you know what? I watched him walk away, and when he got far enough, he stopped to light a cigarette and dumped the flowers in a trash bin. He threw freshly-bought flowers in the trash. Makes no sense to me.” Mrs. Miller shook her head in disapproval as she rearranged flowers in their plastic buckets.

  The vampire bought a small bouquet of mixed flowers from Mrs. Miller and returned to the house. In the kitchen, he found Nina watching Frozen again. He would have to take her back to Walmart and pick up a few other films before she drove them crazy with the one movie. “Where is your mother?”

  “In the basement doing laundry,” the little girl answered without taking her eyes off the singing princess. He zipped down to the basement where Angel was busy sorting clothes. “Here, put these in water.”

  “Flowers, Max? For me?” She looked far more surprised than pleased.

  “I bought them to help out Mrs. Miller. Still, I thought you’d like them. The real reason I bought them was to have a chance to question the old woman. It turns out a man, posing as an investigator, has been passing around a picture of a young woman and asking questions.” Angel dropped the flowers, her hands going to her mouth, her eyes wide in fear.

  “I suggest you stay inside and keep all windows and drapes closed until I sort this out.”

  “So soon. They found me so soon. Oh, Max, what am I going to do?”

  “They have not found you. You said it yourself they have an idea you’re in the area. The fact that their thugs failed to return probably confirmed it for them. They’re now systematically covering the streets and asking. You will do nothing. You will remain safely here. I will handle it.”

  CHAPTER 14

  He took to the rooftops. From above, he looked down on every alley, every corner. It took only minutes before he found the man. He observed him as he crossed the street to stop a homeless man. With a dollar bill in one hand and picture in the other, he spoke to him briefly before moving on.

  It was getting late, and this part of town was mostly residential and quiet at night, onl
y the occasional theater or pub goer out in the street. Max followed the man as he walked half a mile to the nearest subway entrance and went down. When he took the train, Max took the farthest door and sat down at the end, careful not to let on that he was watching him.

  He led him to a rough part of town, alive with smells, music, bartering, ladies of the night. The man moved from prostitute to prostitute, always showing the picture, always offering money. He obviously thought that left on her own and broke, the girl would resort to the only trade available to her. The vampire was saddened by the implication. He could not imagine the girl, lovely and kind as she was, being forced to sell herself.

  It was way past midnight when the man hailed a cab. Taking to the heights again, Max followed the cab, and was satisfied when twenty minutes later, the man paid the fare and walked into the Howard Johnson.

  ******

  Bruno Albieri looked down over the parapet of the hotel roof, twelve stories above the ground. Max held him by the neck as he forced him to look down. “Can you imagine the fall? Twelve stories will take about six seconds. Long enough for you to scream and think about what’s coming. I already killed the ones who found her. I kill easily but only when necessary. You need not die, and no one else will know what you tell me. It will be our secret.”

  “What do you want to know?” Albieri struggled to speak.

  “Everything.”

  “All right. All right, but ease up. I can barely breathe.”

  Max pulled the man back and turned him around to face him. As soon as he loosened his hold, the man kicked Max in the groin causing him to double over in pain, delivered a blow to the back of the neck with clasped hands, and followed up with a vicious kick to the ribs as the vampire folded over, and then another and another.