Angeles Betrayal

by Michael Pierce

  “Did you know you can see the ocean from your front door?” Alexis squealed as the two of them entered the apartment.

  “Wait ’til you see the balcony,” I said.

  “We’ve only brought our charming selves,” Candace said, following behind Alexis.

  “That’s all we need. I hope you’re hungry. Snacks are on the island and I’ve got drinks galore.”

  “You trying to get me drunk? I didn’t bring an overnight bag.”

  “I’ve got stuff you can use and there are five bedrooms,” I said with a sly smile.

  “Oh my God, this view is amazing!” Alexis had already ventured out onto the balcony where I’d fully opened the folding doors. “Candace, get over here!”

  I followed the girls onto the balcony where Alexis was still gushing about the picturesque sunset over the ocean.

  “This place must cost a fortune,” Alexis said. “Whose is it? You said you were housesitting?”

  I contemplated making up a name and telling them it was an old family friend but then decided to give them a glimpse into my new life. “You know Matthew. Well, this is his place. He’s out of town and said I could use it if I wanted—for a girls’ night.”

  “And this is all his?” Candace asked, turning to me and propping an elbow on the glass railing.

  “Yeah; his parents are wealthy. They have multiple homes around the country.”

  “I thought his mother and your mother were friends or something. What do they do to be able to afford this?” Alexis asked.

  I hadn’t really planned out a full backstory, so tried to wing it convincingly. “His father’s in aerospace research and development, or something like that. Whatever exactly he does, he’s an important guy.”

  “I should say so,” Candace said. “This Matthew seems like a keeper.”

  I laughed as I strolled back into the open kitchen to grab a snack. “You never did like Sean.”

  “I probably would have if he’d had rich parents like Matthew’s,” she said. Sometimes it was hard to tell if Candace was serious or not.

  “Nice,” I said, dipping a tortilla chip into a bowl of guacamole and taking a bite.

  “You know what’s strange?” Alexis asked, following us into the kitchen. “Sean isn’t returning my texts or calls. He should be in New York by now. I think classes already started. He was supposed to call me when he got there.”

  “You’re not his mother,” Candace said, grabbing a chip for herself. “He probably has more important things than checking in with you.”

  “Friends check in with one another,” Alexis argued. When she glanced at me after saying it, I was sure the comment was also a small dig at me.

  However, it was one more thing I knew the answer to that I couldn’t tell them about. Sean’s being held hostage by vampires and my mother, so they can all blackmail me into helping them take over the world. After saying it in my head, it sounded so crazy I probably could tell them without any real adverse reactions.

  “I’m sure he’s fine,” I said. “He’s probably overwhelmed by the move and the start of fall semester. You’ll know soon enough.”

  “I know, right!” Alexis exclaimed. “I can’t believe it’s already here. I hope my class load doesn’t kill me.”

  “You should really pray your roommate isn’t a raging bitch,” Candace said, and just like that, the topic of Sean was forgotten.

  I poured drinks and threw some pizzas into the oven while we continued to talk about everything under the sun, just like old times. For a few hours, it almost felt like I was allowed back into the regular world where the worst things I’d have to deal with were moving forward from my breakup with Sean, worrying about college, and dealing with snide comments from Mallory Fiennes.

  But looking around the condo provided the reminder that my life—now and going forward—was no longer normal. And with that, I was leaving my friends behind because I couldn’t see how I could possibly bring them along with me. The direction I was headed in was dark and dangerous. I wanted to shield them from that… like Sean… but he’d found his way in anyway.

  After dinner, we sat on the balcony. The sun was down, and we sat around a stone firepit, drinks in hand and the makings for smores in each of our laps. The skewered marshmallows hovered above dancing flames, being turned over and over to reach perfect blackened tans—although mine had caught fire more than once.

  “Fee, you look really good tonight—different somehow,” Alexis said as she removed her marshmallow from the fire.

  The only thing I could think of was the fact I was wearing my hair up, which I almost never did—but here, alone with my best friends, I didn’t feel self-conscious about doing it. My way of really letting my hair down was putting it up.

  “Thanks,” I said. “I think we all look different. Older. Wiser. Ready to take on the world.”

  “Yeah; as scary as this next chapter will be, I’m ready,” Alexis said.

  For once, Candace remained quiet, assembling her smore sandwich then taking a gooey bite.

  “You never needed to hide,” Alexis said.

  “I don’t hide,” I said. “I let everyone see exactly who I am.”

  “Yeah. Right.” She rolled her eyes, looking all the more dramatic in the firelight.

  “Matthew needs to go away more often so we can have more nights like this,” Candace said.

  But we all knew we wouldn’t have many more such nights; once Alexis left, and without it being the three of us, it simply wouldn’t be the same. With everything I had going on, I didn’t know how often I was even going to see Candace. Alexis really was the glue that held us all together.

  “We’ll come visit you in San Diego,” I said. “It’s not like it’s that far.”

  Candace agreed but a heaviness hung in the air; amidst the crackling flames, it quietly whispered that our promises of making the extra visiting effort would mostly end up broken.

  “Let’s not think about that,” Alexis said. “Let’s just enjoy tonight. Thanks, Fee, for doing all this.”

  “It was nothing,” I said.

  “Cheers,” Candace said and we all reached forward and clinked what was left of our smore sandwiches, laughing. “Think I can go for one more.”

  We all could.

  30

  Sean

  I so wanted Fiona to come back; I could use a friendly face while being held captive in the basement of Fangloria. Susan had stopped in once since I’d seen Fiona last, but it wasn’t the same. Seeing Susan didn’t differ much from all the brief visits from the people tasked with delivering my daily food.

  In the meantime, I did as I was told and kept a low profile, but couldn’t help but think things were going to end badly. How could they not? I was a hostage for some criminal organization. How many of those people ever make it out alive? All I had to go on was Fiona’s and Susan’s assurances that after some secret mission was complete, I’d be released—just like that. It sounded too good to be true.

  At least Susan followed through with securing me a TV—with premium channels, no less—otherwise, I’d go completely crazy sitting in here all day.

  I thought about the cross-country drive I’d never completed. I’d only made it a few hours before being picked up, and according to the date on the television, the semester had already started and if I hadn’t already been dropped from all my classes, I would be soon enough.

  Since I’d been locked down here, my rose-colored glasses for the club had been replaced by a gag and blindfold. I remembered that I couldn’t think of anything else but that crazy night in the club and the two girls I’d hooked up with. I’d even wanted to rush through school, so I could come home for Thanksgiving break and find some way to get back in; I wouldn’t even have minded if the cover charge had doubled. But my time locked away in this room changed all of it, my fond memories now severely tainted.

  It was nearing the time dinner was usually dropped off, so when the door opened, I didn’t think anything of it. H
owever, my surprise came from seeing who was holding the tray of food.

  “Taylor?” I gasped, but when I quickly replayed the events of my night in the club, I probably should have expected to see her there at some point.

  She looked as gorgeous as the night I’d met her, even dressed down in jeans and a curve-accentuating button-down shirt. Two buttons were left undone to create a flirty open neckline. Long blonde hair spilled over her shoulders, and her skinny jeans were tucked into ankle-high combat boots. I thought I’d seen enough of her the first night not to stare, but I was wrong.

  “Hello, Sean,” she said, setting a tray of pasta, chicken, and what looked like an Alfredo sauce down on the desk. A side salad and plastic cup of water accompanied the main dish. The one thing I couldn’t complain about regarding my time in captivity was the quality of the food.

  “It was all a setup, wasn’t it?” I bolted up from the couch, my hands balled tightly into fists. “Was any of that night real?”

  “Calm down, Sean,” Taylor said, picked up the tray of food and bringing it to me. “I had a good time with you. Lacy said the same.”

  Reflexively, I took the tray from her outstretched hands, returning to the couch and setting it on my lap.

  “You work here too? Does Lacy? Is it your job to search out easy targets?” I gripped the sides of the food tray and couldn’t seem to let go.

  “If you must know, I noticed you had some connection with Fiona when she was leaving with her mother, so I came over and talked to you.” Taylor backed up and leaned against the desk.

  “You asked about her…” I said, trying to recall the conversation. “And I told you she was my ex-girlfriend.” I seemed to have a knack for giving up too much information.

  “You did, indeed.” Taylor smiled. “And then we were in business. And no, I don’t work at the club. But I do work for Frederick.”

  “That’s the scary looking guy?”

  “You’re gonna have to be more specific. They’re all scary looking guys.”

  “So, it was always about Fiona…” I said, amazed at how much our lives were always intertwined. I didn’t know if I could ever get a clean break from her, and even after all this, I didn’t want to. Taylor and Lacy were fantasies, but Fiona was very real and just as much the girl of my dreams.

  And just as Fiona invaded my thoughts, Taylor came to sit beside me on the couch—a little too close for comfort. “We had fun though, didn’t we?”

  My pulse quickened as she lay a hand on my leg, moving seductively toward the inside of my thigh. “I know I did,” she purred into my ear.

  My hands were still glued to the tray in my lap. “I did,” I said, gulping hard. “But that was before… all this… It wasn’t real. You said so yourself.”

  “I never said it wasn’t real,” she said sweetly. “Our interaction had a purpose, but the fun we had was still very much real.”

  When her hand drew dangerously close to my crotch, I jumped up from the couch, resulting in tipping the cup of water over and onto the floor. “I can’t do this.” I kept hold of the food tray, using it now as a physical barrier between us.

  “Why? Because of Fiona?” She stood up and kicked the plastic cup across the room, causing it to ricochet off the wall. “What is it about that girl? What makes her so Goddamn special?”

  I was the one who should be upset for being deceived, kidnapped, and held hostage. However, she suddenly seemed more upset with me. “How did this get turned around on me?” I asked. “I’m the victim here. You’re the one who duped me. Are you the one who grabbed me from Baker too?”

  “Guys used to love girls with big breasts, but now they all seem to be more infatuated with flat-chested little boys.”

  Whoa, where the hell did that come from?

  “Fiona’s not flat-chested,” I argued, having many fond memories of her breasts. “Wait—we’re not having this conversation. Can’t I just eat my dinner in peace? Haven’t you guys done enough?”

  I was backing away with the tray still between us. She kept pace with me like she was going to try something, so I made sure to stay alert. I had no idea what the girl was capable of. But, as I continued to back up, I realized I was getting close to the door, reminding me that she’d let it close after entering. She didn’t specifically lock the door; the others who’d also brought me food had done the same thing, but they were always in and out within a few seconds. From what I’d seen, the door wasn’t self-locking. There was a chance I could make a run for it.

  “I can tell what you’re thinking,” she said, her voice sharp. “Don’t even think about trying to make a break for it—and run back to her.”

  I had to think fast. The longer I debated, the quicker my window of opportunity was closing. It could be suicide, although I could easily be dead by remaining here and doing everything asked of me while hoping to be set free. I didn’t know what to do.

  Taylor stepped closer. She was about ready to lunge forward and throw me into the door to keep from opening it. The biggest thing I had on my side was the tray still in my hands.

  “She doesn’t give two shits about you anymore and you’re still holding her up on a pedestal,” Taylor said.

  “Why do you even care?” I countered. “It’s not like there’s anything between us.”

  “Not now there isn’t. You already blew that.”

  And there she was, blaming me again. I couldn’t believe what was coming out of her mouth. However, maybe the complaints accomplished exactly what they were supposed to, because—as my mind was reeling—she lunged for me.

  Before I had the capacity to react, Taylor knocked the tray out of my hands sending food, dishes, and silverware flying in all directions and raining down like a vengeful thunderstorm. Then she expertly pulled me to the ground and flipped me over her body, her combat boots kicking me hard in the ribs while I soared through the air.

  I came to a crashing halt, slammed into the side of the desk. When I gathered enough bearings to look back, she was already on her feet, guarding the door.

  Holy crap, she’s fast! And strong! I now suspected she was a trained fighter, which I’d never have guessed simply by looking at her.

  “I told you not to try anything,” she said.

  “I—I didn’t…” My ears were ringing and my head felt a little woozy from smacking it on the floor. “Stay away from me.”

  “I nabbed you; I can do with you as I please,” she said, taking a few steps closer. “If I want you to lick my boots, you better damn well make them shine.”

  I scurried backwards, afraid she might be serious, and now pretty confident she could kick my ass. My hand fell on the fork from the tray, so I impulsively grabbed the utensil and raised it like a weapon.

  Taylor burst out laughing, but I was serious.

  “What are you going to do with that? Rake it down my face, so I can look more like your oh-so-perfect Fiona?”

  “I can’t believe I was hoping to see you again,” I said. “Don’t come any closer! Just back off!”

  “You’re so cute when you’re angry,” she said and dove forward, attempting to disarm me. But I didn’t hesitate this time and jabbed the fork at her.

  She moved quickly to block it with her left forearm but the fork stabbed her in the wrist. I made sure not to lose my grip and yanked the prongs out of her skin. Four small holes in her arm immediately began to pool with blood and drip onto the floor. She clamped her opposite hand onto her injured wrist to temporarily control the bleeding.

  I took advantage of her momentary distraction and bolted for the door. Without looking back to see if she was chasing me, I threw open the door ready to charge into the hallway, but my escape came to a crashing halt by a figure standing directly beyond its threshold.

  I’d collided with the man I thought to be Frederick, and it felt like I’d run straight into a brick wall. He barely moved while I bounced off his body and tumbled backward into the room.

  “What the hell is going on in here
?” he demanded, stepping into the room and surveying the damage. “Taylor, what are you—what’s that on your arm?”

  I gulped, knowing what I’d done to her—and now he was going to take it out on me. I hesitantly looked over to see how bad her injury was. She was still squeezing her wrist tight, blood now seeping through her fingers. But there was something else—something I didn’t remember seeing before…

  Above where Taylor was clutching her skin, right there on her upper forearm was a large tattoo of a compass, so noticeable that I had no idea how I’d never seen it before. The button-down shirt she was wearing had short sleeves. The corset top she’d been wearing on the night I met her was sleeveless with only leather straps at the shoulders. I couldn’t believe she’d been concealing that tattoo with makeup.

  “He stabbed me with a fork of all things,” Taylor said. “It’s bleeding like a son of a bitch. Look—” But when she glanced down at her arm, ready to present her injury to Frederick, she inexplicably seemed as surprised as I was to see the tattoo.

  “I’m not talking about your run-in with a kitchen utensil. That sure looks like a Society compass to me.” A sinister grin was spreading across Frederick’s face and he marched toward her, seeming to forget about me altogether.

  “It’s not what you think!” she cried, throwing her bloody hands up in surrender. “Please don’t… don’t kill me…”

  Frederick gave a dry laugh as he grabbed her by the bicep and dragged her toward the door. And she fruitlessly fought him every step of the way, which didn’t stop him or even slow him down. She seemed to have no power against his will. Frederick yanked her into the hall and slammed the door, never even giving me a second thought.

  Finally, I heard the door being locked from the outside, then a muffled scream. I had no idea how to take what I’d just seen. But the sheer force by which Frederick dragged Taylor out of the room chilled me to the bone.

  31

  Matthew