Angeles Underground

by Michael Pierce

  I nodded. “If that’s what you want.”

  She looked unsure, but didn’t offer an alternative. I had a feeling she was waiting for me to make a suggestion, to sweep her off her feet and carry her into the night.

  She was still upset with me—our awkwardness throughout the evening made that clear—though she seemed willing to suspend that anger for the night, with the allure of celebration in the air. But I knew I shouldn’t keep pulling her closer. Now was the perfect chance to put distance between us—the best way to make the events ahead easier—so I didn’t play into her vulnerable state. Instead, I used all my willpower in the moment not to give into those beautiful, smoky and expectant eyes.

  “Come. I’ll take you home,” I said.

  45

  Fiona

  I’d gotten home relatively early like Mom had requested, but she’d been gone when I arrived. I was physically, mentally, and emotionally spent and slept better than I had in months, straight through the night. However, I still didn’t wake feeling wonderfully refreshed.

  When I finally dragged myself out of bed midmorning, Mom was curled up on the couch with her tablet and coffee.

  “Morning, sunshine. The coffee’s fresh,” she said, without looking up from her reading.

  I grumbled an unintelligible response and headed straight for the kitchen, set on dumping whatever coffee was left over and brewing a new pot. Although I’d lost my unlimited free supply, I still couldn’t stand coffee that had been sitting there, even with the white mocha creamer stirred in.

  “I hope you don’t have plans tonight,” Mom said as I leaned against the counter, watching the coffee dripping into the glass pot.

  “I don’t think so,” I groaned, still trying to determine what day it was. “Why?”

  “I took the night off,” she said, now holding her reading glasses with two fingers and her arm draped over the back of the couch as she twisted to look at me. “After everything that’s happened, it’d be great to have some quality Fiona time. We’re long overdue.”

  “Okay. I’m—yeah, I’m free,” I said, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

  “Beautiful. We’ll grab some dinner,” she said, then went back to her reading.

  “Beautiful,” I said to myself, then dropped my attention to my seemingly normal left forearm, my thoughts drifting back to the events of the night before.

  Mom drove us to an upscale hotel restaurant in downtown Los Angeles, and afterward, we’d be going to a show at the Pantages Theatre. So, we both dressed up in beautiful evening gowns; I wore the red dress I’d been given the night before for my initiation, maybe a little formal for an evening on the town, but when else would I be able to wear it?

  Mom looked stunning in a long black dress with a precarious slit up one side. I’d never seen it before, even despite perusing her closet multiple times to borrow something. If there’d ever been a night to mistake us for sisters—which people often did—it would have been tonight.

  The restaurant was on the roof of a high-rise hotel, and we took a table on the outside patio. It wasn’t that cold, but there were space heaters and firepits scattered about.

  As much as I was skeptical of my mother’s actions of late, I missed spending this kind of time with her. It had always been us against the world, ever since we lost Becca. But now, I had found my father and an underground fraternity I never knew existed, neither of which severed the pact with my mother but did undoubtedly weaken it. I now had a greater mission. I wouldn’t leave her behind, but it wasn’t just us anymore.

  The five-course meal was superb, and when I saw an Oreo sundae on the dessert menu, I simply couldn’t refuse, no matter how childish it sounded.

  “I can’t believe they’d have something like that here,” I said, thoroughly excited for the sixth course to arrive.

  “The city’s just full of surprises,” Mom said, getting out her compact to check her teeth. “What do you think of our waiter?”

  “Tonight’s about us,” I reminded her.

  “I know that, kid. I’m talking about for you? I think he’s closer to your age.”

  “When has that ever stopped you before?” I laughed.

  “I’m becoming comfortable with the fact I’m growing into a mature woman.”

  “You’re not old, Mom.” I rolled my eyes. She was fishing for compliments, yet I still gave her one. “You’re a knockout, by anyone’s standards.”

  “Pale in comparison to you,” she said, smiling sweetly.

  “That’s so not true,” I argued, then glanced up as my dessert arrived and was placed in the center of the table—two spoons placed meticulously on either side of the bowl.

  “She’s not going to share,” Mom commented, getting a slight laugh out of our waiter.

  However, this was something I definitely didn’t want to eat alone, so I handed Mom a spoon and wouldn’t relent until she’d taken a bite. She knew better than anyone how much Becca and I loved Oreos—or more importantly, how much we loved to eat them together. There was no way I could eat this dessert alone.

  While we were still finishing off the ice cream—the Oreos already long gone—Mom flagged down the waiter for the check.

  “We don’t want to be late,” she said, setting her spoon down and placing her cloth napkin on the table. But when we got into the elevator, Mom hit the button for only a few floors down, still a long way from the lobby. When I eyed her questioningly, she simply said, “We just need to make one quick stop before we go.”

  Mom led me down the quiet hallway of identical doors, then abruptly halted. She dug through her purse and came away holding a keycard that she held up to the card reader, unlocking the door.

  “What are we doing here?” I asked while following Mom into what I soon realized was much more than a regular hotel room—instead, it was a glamorous multi-room suite. But what I’d noticed only subtly during our trek from the elevator, became increasingly obvious now—my left forearm was tingling like mad. The compass wasn’t visible, but it was trying to get my attention and I knew exactly which direction the arrow was pointing as we stepped farther into the suite.

  “Fiona, I’d like you to meet a friend of mine—Damien Galt,” Mom said as we stepped into the living room.

  46

  Fiona

  The man Mom introduced as Damien Galt sat in an ivory-colored chair with one knee crossed over the other, his elbows on the armrests, his fingers steepled to his chin. The chair was positioned on the far side of the coffee table, its back to an oversized window with a view of the nearby skyscrapers. He did not rise to greet us, but only lowered his hands.

  “Good evening, Fiona,” he said.

  The name Damien Galt was revered in the real world, famous in the underground Vampire Nation, and infamous within the Society. He was the one destined to bring vampires into the light, thus leading to the end of the world as we knew it. But—I’d seen Galt on television, in pictures, many places—even in a picture behind the bar at Fangloria where he’d been shaking hands with the President—and this man before us now was not Damien Galt. No, I’d met this man before—sitting at the bar in Fangloria and again in The Cellar when he’d saved me from a nasty group of vampires playing with me on the platform. He’d introduced himself then as Frederick.

  The tingling in my forearm now radiated throughout my body. I didn’t know if it was a by-product of the compass or simply my fear of what this meeting was all about.

  Mom walked past me and took a seat on the couch, then patted the cushion beside her. “Come, dear.”

  “I’m fine where I am,” I said, glaring at her. I was supposed to now carry my Society-issued gun at all times, but I didn’t yet have a thigh strap to conceal it under a dress like this. And I still felt awkward about carrying a gun anyway—especially one with special vampire bullets. Even though this man had saved me once, I sure wished I had my firearm now.

  “Suit yourself,” she said, then turned to the man in the chair. “We don’t have l
ong because we have tickets to the theatre.” Then she turned her attention back to me. “But it was important to finally make this introduction.”

  “You’re not Damien Galt,” I said flatly.

  “I’m not?” The man looked amused.

  “Damien Galt is a public figure, well photographed. On TV. In magazines. A lot of people know what he looks like. It’s obviously not you.”

  “You’re right,” he said. “That couldn’t possibly be me.” He was patronizing me now. “The person you see in front of the cameras must be real. It’s too fantastical to believe someone would merely be playing me on TV.” Then he was quiet, judging my response.

  I didn’t know what to believe, only that I knew the man before me was a vampire—the compass would not lie—and that he hadn’t told my mother about my little excursion to Fangloria. I contemplated bringing it up to put her on the spot as well, but I didn’t know what kind of trouble that would cause, and I was unarmed. It was too risky.

  “So, what are you saying?” I asked instead.

  “I’m saying the Damien Galt you see on television is a decoy, as are his elite associates, to keep our true identities safe. We have important works in motion, so proper precautions have been put in place. The public doesn’t know I am the founder of Vampire Nation, and when that information is revealed, there will presumably be some backlash. My elite team and I need a buffer from those inevitable repercussions.”

  He was talking to me like I should already know about Vampire Nation, which I did, but Mom didn’t know I had any knowledge of this. Unless…

  “Very few people know who the man is behind the curtain,” Damien continued. “Your mother is a dear friend, which makes you a dear friend by association. I trust this is information that will not be shared outside of this room.”

  I didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

  “Why don’t you sit down, dear?” Mom repeated, and this time I obeyed and sat beside her.

  “You look familiar,” I said, staring intently at the unwavering man in the chair.

  “Do I? Perhaps we’ve accidentally run into each other before, though I’m sure I wouldn’t forget your face. You look like an angel, just like your mother.”

  “Nope. Just human.” I gave Mom a sidelong glance to see how she was taking the implications of this conversation.

  “We know,” she said in the soothing voice she used whenever trying to keep me calm.

  “You know what?”

  “About the True North Society.” Mom kept an even expression—no accusations or disappointment in her tone.

  I blinked at her, my mouth falling open, and Damien laughed.

  “I’ve always hated keeping secrets from you. You and me against the world, right? Finally, you’re old enough and have enough firsthand knowledge of the world, for me to come clean and tell you everything.”

  “Mom, you’re scaring me,” I said. That vampire in Sisters of Mercy had mentioned my mother and had wanted to send her a message with my death. “Why are vampires after you?”

  “After me? Who’s after me?”

  “The vampire Matthew killed—the one trying to kill me!” I shouted.

  “Who was this?” Damien asked, leaning forward in his chair.

  “I don’t know who it was. I’m assuming if I mention Sisters of Mercy, you’ll both know what I’m talking about?” They both nodded, so I continued. “He said he was there to send you a message, which meant killing me. What was the message for?”

  “Allow me to answer that,” Damien said. “The Vampire Order demands stipends for vampire-run businesses and I’ve stopped paying them. They’re not going to control me any longer. They will not suppress Vampire Nation. Their archaic time of absolute rule is coming to an end.”

  “But why are they after my mother?”

  “Because… beyond being a dear friend, she is also a trusted associate who works with me for several of my business ventures.”

  “Like Fangloria?” I asked, not believing what I was hearing.

  “Perhaps.” He provided a knowing grin.

  I glowered at Mom, shaking my head. “Show me your tattoo,” I demanded.

  “Do not judge what you do not understand,” Mom said as she stood without hesitation and opened the slit of her skirt shooting up her right thigh. She adjusted her panty strap to reveal the red Vampire Nation tattoo on her hip—the encircled “VN.” She only gave me a quick glimpse before dropping her skirt and returning to the couch. “Now it’s your turn.”

  “I don’t have a vamp stamp,” I snapped, causing Damien to laugh.

  “No, dear. Your True North compass.”

  “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stammered.

  “Make a fist with your left hand, then grip the forearm with your right,” Damien said. “Show it to us.”

  How did they know this? I was so terrified at what was happening—what my mother had gotten herself into and who this Damien or Frederick truly was. I was there with the person I’d most trusted in the world and realized I didn’t even know who she was anymore.

  “I showed you mine,” Mom said, sweetly.

  “We can’t do it for you because the design will only be activated with the touch of your own skin,” Damien added.

  They seemed to know more about my tattoo than I did, which was even more disconcerting. Because of that, it seemed futile to continue to deny it. I balled my hand into a fist and made the compass appear.

  “That’s my girl,” Mom said, a smile spreading over her lips as she glanced to Damien. “You managed to finally meet your father. There was no way I could have explained earlier. You truly needed to find out for yourself. He left—that has always been true. But I couldn’t follow him, so he continued without me—without us. Until now…”

  This was as much as she had ever spoken about my father in one sitting, and it brought tears to my eyes, then I found myself unable to breathe, trying to suck in air that was vehemently eluding me.

  “Oh my God, what’s happening?” I cried.

  Mom scooted closer and pulled my head to her shoulder. She stroked my hair and my wet cheek, shushing me like when I was a little girl, telling me everything would be alright.

  “It’s still you and me, kid,” she crooned.

  “Vampires are not the enemy,” Damien said. “We are the future, and soon you’ll come to see it too, despite what Matthew and the rest of his so-called Society say. You do not need to fear.”

  But I was afraid—more afraid than I’d ever been in my life. Everything I’d been through recently should have prepared me to handle something even as devastating as this, but it didn’t. The revelation my mother was one of the vampire sympathizers—and helping the vampire that may very well cause the end of the world and bring about the real Vampire Nation—was entirely too much.

  I lifted my head, not finding the familiar comfort within Mom’s touch. She felt alien to me now. And before I knew what I was saying, I’d already blurted it out. “You told me your name was Frederick.”

  Mom shot a questioning glance his way, finally taken off guard.

  “I did,” he said, confidently. “I didn’t lie to you.”

  “What are you talking about? When did you meet my daughter?” Mom asked.

  “Some weeks ago, when her new friends thought it would be fun to haze her with a field trip to the club.”

  “You didn’t think to tell me?”

  “I handled it, so no harm befell her. There was no need to get you involved.”

  “When it comes to my daughter, I’m always involved.”

  “When it comes to your daughter, you sometimes… how should I put this… act irrationally.”

  Mom huffed in irritation but didn’t argue further.

  “Who are you really?” I demanded, my attention still on Damien or Frederick—or whatever his real name was—as I wiped my tear-stricken cheeks.

  “I’m both,” he said. “The regular world knows me as Frederick Alabaster. Da
mien Galt is the persona I created. The man you see on television does what I tell him to do. The man behind the name is me.”

  “And Matthew seemed to know you when he picked me up from the club.”

  “Yes,” Frederick chuckled. “Matthew and I go way back. You could say he inspired me to set higher goals for myself. Now… I want you to understand I am not a threat to you. I’ve promised your mother to keep you safe and I will continue to do so.”

  “I can take care of myself,” I said, defiantly.

  “I don’t doubt you’re learning some neat tricks from the Society, but a human in the midst of vampires cannot handle them alone. She needs allies. Unbeknownst to you—until now—I’ve been providing that support system.”

  “No; Matthew and the other members of the True North Society are providing that support for me.”

  Frederick shook his head. “Matthew wants to protect you, but he can’t. Don’t get me wrong; he’s tried. He thinks he has unlimited help and connections, but he doesn’t. He’s just another misled young vampire thinking he’s far more invincible than he really is.”

  “That’s not true,” I said, feeling the tears coming back from unbridled anger and frustration.

  “I’m not going to argue with you about it; I’m simply stating a fact.” Frederick shrugged.

  My head was swimming from all of this, and for a moment I couldn’t even remember how I’d gotten here. How had everything I’d been through with the Society brought me here?

  “I let you in on a big secret tonight and I trust you’ll keep it,” Frederick said, steepling his fingers again. “This official meeting was a long time coming, and I’m so glad we finally got to do it. Please keep in mind that Matthew and I don’t see eye to eye on a number of issues, so it would be beneficial if we kept our interactions strictly confidential—just between us—to avoid any unnecessary bloodshed. I don’t want that, and I’m sure you don’t either. Isn’t that right, sweetling?”

  “No, I don’t… I don’t want that,” I said, my lower lip quivering, fear seeping into my bones from the subtle threats he was making.