Angeles Vampire

by Michael Pierce

  “You claim to have the best damn coffee in the county and want to mask its unparalleled taste with cream and sugar?” He used air quotes in reciting Candace’s statement. “Sacrilege.”

  “Just because we got the best coffee around doesn’t change the fact that plain black coffee sucks,” Candace said like it was common knowledge. “You gotta spruce it up a little.”

  I tried to remain calm, but felt my heart racing in this man’s presence like I was on caffeine overload. I could see just a hint of the smooth skin of his bare chest through the two open buttons of his dress shirt. His sleeves were rolled up to just below his elbows, revealing muscular forearms and a prominent tattoo on his inner left wrist. From the few lines I could see, it appeared to be a compass—like my pendant.

  “Fee, you’re staring,” Candace said.

  I snapped to attention, prying my eyes away from Matthew’s captivating body. “I am doing no such thing,” I protested, and in turning my head, saw Mallory standing silently in the lobby, an entourage of three more girls prattling quietly behind her.

  The surprised look on my face got the attention of Alexis and Candace—and Matthew. Mallory looked almost apprehensive to approach the register. Her attention oscillated between Matthew and me, a strange, conflicting expression clouding her face.

  “What may we get for you, Your Highness,” Candace mocked, but Mallory barely noticed her, let alone reacted to her sarcasm.

  After a moment, Mallory stepped up to the register and said, “I’ll take my usual, and whatever my friends want.” She had a credit card out and dropped it on the counter, then backed away so her friends could order.

  Alexis was speechless, unsure if she should reach for the card.

  “Eli’s not back yet, so you’re stuck with me,” Candace said.

  “I’m sure you’ll have the decency not to spit in my chai,” Mallory said.

  “I’ll try to control myself,” Candace answered.

  I turned my attention back to Matthew, who continued to casually sip his coffee. He didn’t seem to pay Mallory any mind, even though I knew the feeling definitely wasn’t mutual. She continued to glance over—an expression of disapproval forever present—but didn’t engage us.

  “How’s your hand?” Matthew asked.

  I flexed my left hand through the gauze and tape, which I’d had to reapply several times since being treated by the guy in the infirmary. “Fine,” I said. “I’ve had worse.”

  “Do you have a break soon?” Matthew asked, leaning in closer.

  I inched onto the counter—like Candace was always being reprimanded for—so I could be those few inches closer to him. “My shift just started. I don’t usually get to sit down until the sun goes down.”

  “You’re sitting right now.” He smirked.

  “You know what I mean.” I scooted even closer to him, as far as the prep counter would allow, and leaned against the bar. “What is that?” I asked, grabbing hold of his left hand and twisting it so I could see the full image of his tattoo.

  Matthew tensed under my touch, but didn’t pull his hand back. Instead, he sucked in an anxious breath before speaking. “The official symbol of the Society. The same thing you have on your necklace.”

  “It’s beautiful,” I said, tracing the intricate lines with my forefinger—lines I could feel like raised black scars on his flesh. My cheek burned at the thought.

  “You’ll get one when you’re initiated,” he said, his voice soft to keep the conversation private between us.

  The thought of getting a large tattoo like his made me lightheaded. I couldn’t even make it through a cut on the hand. How could I get through the needle work to have that elaborate picture drawn on my skin?

  “Don’t worry; you’ll be fine,” he said, as if reading my mind. “I’ll be with you.” And my inquisitive look convinced him to add, “You’re biting your lip. There are plenty of things to be nervous about, but this shouldn’t be one of them.”

  “That’s cool,” Alexis said, now standing next to me, gazing down at Matthew’s tattoo. “Got any more?”

  “No; just the one.”

  When I glanced toward the espresso bar to see how Candace was faring, I saw her put the last of the drinks on the bar. Mallory left without another word, her loquacious friends in tow.

  “That was amazing,” Candace said, joining us on the opposite side of the register. “What did you do to her? I’ve never seen Mallory so… so accommodating.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Matthew said, slyly.

  “Well, whatever it was, I like having you around. You should be here like all the time.”

  “Thanks,” Matthew said.

  “Have you girls even moved since I left?” Eli said, strolling back onto the floor, still tying his apron.

  “We helped at least a hundred customers,” Alexis said.

  “As well as the Queen Bee herself,” Candace added. “She even let me make her drink.”

  “Wow… I didn’t think I’d ever see the day,” Eli said, sounding genuinely impressed.

  “I know. Right?”

  “Okay; Candace, you’ve earned your ten. Get out of here.”

  “Already gone.”

  More customers entered the store just in time for Candace to weasel past them and out the door. I knew I’d be heading to the espresso bar with her gone.

  “Are you gonna hang out for a while?” I asked, taking Matthew’s now empty mug.

  “I better let you get back to work,” he said, stepping off his stool. “I just wanted to see you in your environment for once. And I should also tell you that your first training session is tomorrow night. I’ll pick you up at eight.”

  “I work tomorrow night.”

  “Then you’ll have to get your shift covered,” he said, matter-of-factly.

  I shook my head with a frown. I hadn’t heard from him in over three days and now he was telling me I needed to change my work schedule with less than a day’s notice? “Thanks for the warning,” I said.

  “Fiona, you’ve got drinks piling up over here,” Eli said.

  “I’m coming!” I called.

  “I know you’ll be able to handle it,” Matthew said, flashing me one of his brilliant smiles. His teeth were perfect—straight and proportionate.

  “I’ll work something out,” I said, my smile certainly not on par with his. I ran a hand through my hair, unconsciously straightening it over my right cheek.

  “I’ll see you at eight.”

  Matthew’s penetrating gaze remained fixed on me for a long moment, reminding me of the night in his SUV. A part of me wanted to rush around the counter and wrap my arms around his neck, but knew how silly that sounded. In reality, I couldn’t move—even though Eli was still calling for me to help out.

  It was almost painful when our connection broke. However, it was also undeniably agonizing to watch him leave.

  19

  Matthew

  I didn’t think much of Catherine anymore. She was my maker—the vampire who turned me. Dr. Catherine Mercer had been a staff member at Sisters of Mercy when I’d been institutionalized by Frederick. And she was the only woman I had allowed myself to fully love.

  Her love for me convinced her to turn me without my consent. At that time, I hadn’t thought of her in such affectionate terms. She’d always been good and gentle with me, but I still viewed her as one of those monsters—an evil bloodsucker like all the rest. They were heartless, soulless fiends who didn’t know the meaning of the word love. But my prejudices changed when I became one of them.

  It wasn’t until she turned me that I fully understood and appreciated how she’d been trying to save me. It wasn’t until then that I saw the full vision for my future and what I had really been brought there to do. It wasn’t until shortly after my turning that I’d begun to return the affection Catherine had for me—until it was mutual love and admiration. She was a beautiful creature of the night who struggled with what she’d become,
a struggle I also felt every day. But Frederick punished me for that love and ripped her away from me, determined I’d remain alone until I succumbed to his will and gave him the proof he craved. But I vowed never to let him witness the truth for himself, the proof I coveted and built the True North Society around.

  I took Catherine’s last name after she was taken from me, so that a part of her could live, and that same part of me could be forgotten forever. Over the next few decades, I tried several more relationships, but they all found violent ends, even with careful measures taken to conceal them. Frederick was always watching. He never forgave Catherine for depriving him of his frail, human toy, and never forgave me for taking over Sisters of Mercy less than a decade later. As time went by, the people around us died, but our grudges remained.

  But through it all, Frederick had no intention of killing me, even with my numerous attempts on his life. This was his game—our dance.

  And now I had Fiona, the most important person in my life since Catherine, and I couldn’t let Frederick get to her. I couldn’t show him how much she meant to me—how important she was.

  I had to keep my distance. There was no other choice. Even though I hadn’t coached a candidate since Ashley nearly half a century earlier, it didn’t have to be obvious to those looking in that Fiona was significant to me—or to whatever I was—anymore.

  I warmed up a packet of animal blood in the microwave, then cut it open and poured the contents into a glass. Going from Taylor’s blood to this wasn’t fulfilling, but I had to get back into the habit—recondition my distinguished taste. I equated animal blood to water. It did the job it was supposed to do—no more, no less. Well, maybe sometimes less. On the other hand, human blood was more like drinking the finest wine and getting the perfect buzz without the hangover. All I had to do was live with the guilt, which many of my kind no longer felt—though not all.

  I downed the glass in one long gulp, then heated up a second packet, knowing I couldn’t pick up Fiona tonight with even a half-empty stomach. While I sipped from the second glass, I peered out of a living room window from my top floor apartment, admiring the lit landscape of artificial light through the bleak metal bars as the last rays of sunlight dipped beneath the Pacific Ocean. A radiant cluster of lights off to the northwest was Los Angeles in all its deceptive glory.

  The monsters were always out, but after sundown, they were out en masse, more apt to show their true colors. And there were places they could do so more safely—like Sisters of Mercy for one, not far from here, and Fangloria for another, in the underbelly of the city. There were smaller, less well-known establishments hidden in plain sight, rising and falling on a regular basis—a part of the Vampire Nation movement. We knew they were signaling the beginning of the end.

  The beginning of the end.

  I took the final sip from my glass and retreated from the window. I rinsed the glass and placed it into the dishwasher. Most of the other residents who lived on the upper floors of the penitentiary had daily maid service like a five-star hotel, but I was the only vampire permanently residing in the building. I had enough regular human interactions; I didn’t need one more—especially within my personal space.

  Now that I’d gotten Taylor kicked out of the building—out of her onsite residence—I could rest a little bit easier. I’d never pursued her, but she’d become obsessed. I’d still have to occasionally run into her within Society work and events, but at least my home was now off limits. And if it was discovered she’d been branded with Vampire Nation—as many vampire groupies tend to do—then she’d be terminated. Problem solved.

  I could have baited her and let Frederick take care of her for me, I thought. I’d only have to answer to my own conscience. I’d done worse when young, but tried like hell to be a better man now. The unyielding need for feeding didn’t make that easy, and curbing it with animal blood greatly compounded those challenges.

  I gazed down at the True North compass on my arm—a constant source of pain—and ran my finger along the tender skin, the one part of me that never healed. The arrow always pointed north, and north was always directed at me.

  I recalled Fiona’s touch on my arm the night before, her fingers brushing the sensitive flesh I was retracing. It burned with an agony and excitement that scared me even now. I couldn’t allow her in—to get too close and tempt fate with what I knew to be true. There was a greater power at work. Our time together was short.

  20

  Fiona

  Matthew picked me up in a parking lot near Hot Coffee, so I wouldn’t have to explain to Mom where I was going—and who was accompanying me for my evening excursion. I couldn’t be seen at Hot Coffee since Candace had agreed to cover my shift, though she’d taken some convincing. I felt I was living a new double life.

  Matthew took me to the same building as before, behind the fence and guise of Silverado State Prison. I was given the opportunity to change into some fitness gear in a locker room, offering an assigned locker equipped with True North-supplied exercise gear. The T-shirt even had the now familiar compass emblem on the right breast. I had a pretty good idea these clothes would somehow fit perfectly.

  Zelda was just finishing changing when I got to my locker. To my relief, Mallory wasn’t there. When I met up with Matthew in the hallway, he had changed into workout clothes as well—

  a black sleeveless tee and tight shorts that bulged from his muscular quads. I tried not to look too closely.

  “Ready to sweat?” he said with a sly smile. “You’ll probably want to put your hair up.”

  I had my hair tie around my wrist, but wasn’t about to put my hair up unless absolutely necessary. The scar on my cheek burned at the thought of full exposure. At least my shirt wasn’t sleeveless.

  “I put myself in your capable hands,” I finally said, sounding awkward and no longer connected to his statement.

  “You won’t be at my mercy,” he answered as we continued down the hallway.

  Matthew led me to a large gymnasium on the same level as the locker rooms. It was currently being used by a number of groups, all sectioned to separate spaces within the oversized room, participating in an eclectic assortment of strength and combat training.

  We met the other candidates and coaches in an available corner. I said hi to Zelda and Barry but kept my distance from Mallory as she talked with her coach, ignoring me completely.

  After a few minutes’ milling about, we were introduced to our trainers, Octavius and Vladimir. We were given protective jackets, masks, and practice sabres—then partnered up for practicing the techniques they’d demonstrated. And we were not paired up with our coaches. Zelda was paired with Barry, leaving me—of course—with the delightful Mallory.

  As much as I never wanted to be partnered with her for anything, the thought of sticking her with a fencing sabre sounded pretty good. She didn’t say anything as I took a few practice swings, but simply readied her stance.

  If only I could really stab you with this thing, I thought, grinning mischievously beneath my mask as we waited for the official notice to proceed with the sparring match.

  Once Octavius blew the whistle, metal blades clanged and crashed as the parries between our two pairs began. It didn’t take me more than a few seconds to realize Mallory knew exactly what she was doing. She expertly evaded my attacks and swiftly disarmed me of my weapon, sending the sabre skidding across the floor. Her coach, Aaron, stopped it with his foot. He handed it back to me, not even trying to suppress the huge grin on his face. Matthew tried to look more sympathetic.

  Shortly after we began again, I found myself on my back, with the button tip of Mallory’s blade at my chest.

  “Dead,” she said through her metal-mesh mask.

  Fury raged inside me as we sparred again and again, and each time I was bested in seconds—finding myself either on the floor or stripped of my weapon. We didn’t have to wait for subsequent whistle blows since our sessions kept ending so fast. And each time, she made a dra
matic point of killing me off.

  Dead. Dead. Dead!

  “You look like you could use a break,” Mallory said as I brought up my sword to begin a new round. I could sense her sinister sneer from behind her mask.

  My back was sore from hitting the mat so many times, while my arm was sore from swinging the sabre. And my chest—well, that was sore too, where she kept poking me to signal herself the victor, even despite the protective coat.

  Matthew took me aside several times to provide pointers, but they didn’t help. I was just as outmatched at every turn.

  “Hopefully, for your sake, this isn’t on the final exam,” Mallory said, flipping my sabre in the air with the flick of her blade and catching it with ease. “Or maybe I hope it is since you don’t belong here.” The last statement was spoken softer, to keep her superior opinion out of earshot from everyone else.

  “I’ll be ready, if it is,” I promised, then I was on my back again, the button of her sabre digging into my chest.

  “No; you won’t.” Mallory pulled back her blade and knelt beside me, so our masked faces were only inches apart. “I’ve been preparing for this my whole life. You’re a lost little lamb about to be slaughtered. You have no idea what you’re up against.” She stood up, but didn’t offer me a hand, then added, “Always go for the heart. You. Are. Dead.”

  When I got to my feet, I didn’t bother picking up my sabre, signaling I was done—done being beaten and done being tormented. My ego hurt as much as my body, maybe more. And it was that much worse that I’d been so severely outmatched by Mallory Fiennes. It seemed she had it better than me in every way. I removed my mask and let it drop to the floor as well. Sweat was pouring down my face and my unbridled hair clung to my cheeks. When I glanced over at Matthew, I saw him cross-armed with a glare that looked positively murderous.

  Mallory removed her mask and held it under one arm. “I take it you yield?”