Angeles Covenant

by Michael Pierce

  Even though it wasn’t directed at me, I still cowered at the intimidating noise. The Doberman lowered its ears and dashed back into the sea of broken cars from which it had come.

  “Are you okay?” Vladimir asked, offering me a hand.

  “I—I am now,” I stuttered, still recovering from the encounter. I took his hand and allowed him to pull me to my feet. “Thank you.”

  When I looked at him again, I noticed his wings were gone, and he once again looked like a regular—albeit a supernaturally beautiful—man. Judging by the fact he’d saved me from a vicious attack, I couldn’t believe he was here to harm me. He’d always been kind and encouraging throughout my candidacy.

  Did he expect to find me here?

  I wiped the dust and filth from my hands onto my jeans, then adjusted my hair. “Are you here to take me in?”

  “I’m the reason you’re here,” he said. He strolled over to the closest car and hopped onto the hood, letting his heels kick the front tire of what used to be a Camaro. After a moment, he scooted closer to the cracked windshield, offering me a seat beside him. “Was that your mother in the North Building?”

  “What gave it away?” I asked, sarcastically.

  “Unless you have a sister…”

  “I do—did—do… Yeah, that was my mother. She’s in league with the vampires. Surprise!” I shook my head, still having a hard time believing what she’d put me through since introducing me to Frederick—or Damien. “What did you mean, you’re the reason I’m here?”

  “Everyone’s looking for you—a number of members out for blood. The guards posted at the checkpoint were killed. Your mother and her team went through the portal. They knocked out our communications with the ground—”

  “They were communicating with the ground? I had no idea.”

  “It was a recent development. Not exactly common knowledge yet,” Vladimir said.

  I wanted to ask him how they’d gotten to the portal without my help, but was afraid it might implicate me more. “If everyone’s looking for me, why are you telling me all this?”

  “Because I’m sure this isn’t your fault. I know you’re not a traitor. And I know Matthew would be fighting to keep you safe if he were here… so I stepped in. I found the secret compartment in the van but told the others it was clean and instructed that it be stored in this lot until further notice.”

  “Where’s Matthew? Did something go wrong with his mission?”

  “You know about his—of course you do,” Vladimir laughed. “It’s my understanding the mission was a success, but Matthew hasn’t been heard from since splitting up with the team. I just know he’d want me to be looking out for you until this is all sorted out. Who was the vampire your mother was with?”

  “Matthew’s mission couldn’t have been that much of a success because the vampire on the compound was Damien Galt—the real Damien Galt.” I paused to judge his reaction.

  “Umm… then who were we trying to assassinate?”

  “A man the real Damien Galt put in power, so he could run things from the shadows.”

  “Then we now know who to kill,” Vladimir said, a glint in his eyes like all was not lost and this information alone could regain hope after the night’s debacle. “We can—”

  “And my mother is Clementine Biel,” I said, effectively shutting him up.

  “That complicates things,” he said after a deflating exhale.

  “Tell me about it.” I looked him in the eyes. “What am I supposed to do now?”

  “You need to lie low for the time being while we get this mess at the Society cleaned up and find Matthew. He’ll be your biggest advocate. But just know, he’s not the only one. I know you’re not a traitor. So do a handful of others. However, you have your critics, which is why it’s best to lay low for now.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

  “Do you have somewhere you can go besides home?”

  “I’ll think of something. I wouldn’t want to go home anyway.”

  “Yeah; but didn’t you get set up with Society accommodations?”

  “Yes.”

  “Steer clear of there too. Anywhere we can easily track you. I know Matthew has a few undisclosed places, but even I don’t know where they are.”

  “Don’t worry; I’ll be fine now,” I said with a smile.

  “Good,” he said and hopped down from the hood of the Camaro. “Follow me.”

  I did as I was told, following him farther into the junkyard. Vladimir stopped beside a dented Ford station wagon that had to be from the 90s. I didn’t know if the color matched the dirt, or whether it was from years of accumulation. The door creaked when he opened it, and again when he plopped into the driver’s seat. But despite the rough exterior, the car started with the first turn of the ignition.

  “You can take this,” he said as he exited the car. “I know it’s not much to look at, but it will get you where you need to go. And no one will be looking for it. It’s got half a tank left.”

  Before I climbed into the station wagon, he gave me his phone number, so he could keep me in the loop with the latest Society and Matthew news. The makeshift path was just wide enough for me to drive through. Vladimir led the way to the gate I’d been searching for earlier, then produced a key for the padlock and pulled off the thick chain, allowing the gate to roll to one side.

  He waved as I drove through the open gate and onto the main road. When I glanced into the rearview mirror, the gate was already closed, and the angel gone.

  Now that’s a guardian angel, I thought, not knowing in which direction I was headed. This wouldn’t be the kind of car that would have navigation, so I took out my phone and punched the Maps app to determine where I was. But even discovering my current location didn’t help me determine where I needed to go next.

  My stomach growled. I could sure go for a white mocha.

  3

  Matthew

  I hadn’t felt the true burn of the sun in many years. It was never comfortable, even with the use of the protective serum, but at least that made it manageable. Now, with yesterday’s dose completely out of my system and Syrithia having taken my backup supply, I had no protection from its rays. The open desert I’d awoken to offered no protection either. And I could still see the speck of Syrithia’s helicopter as it flew into the sun, returning to Noctem City.

  As much as I wanted to theorize why Syrithia had turned on me, I needed to now focus on my own survival.

  I didn’t know how many miles I could run before too much of my strength was taken from me. I glanced at the wooden stake Syrithia had left sticking out of the ground—the one she’d stabbed me in the chest with in order to get me here—and didn’t know if it was a joke or a mercy.

  At the sound of a screech, I turned my attention skyward to find a hawk circling about fifty feet overhead. If only there was a way to coax it down, so I could borrow its body, escape the burn of the sun, and fly home. Since my diet consisted almost entirely of animal blood, it would be so helpful if I could transform into the animal of the last blood I drank. Unfortunately, I didn’t seem to work that way, one of the curses for trying to be civilized. I rarely drank from the source. I wasn’t the one simultaneously draining the animal of its blood and life essence, the combination needed to make such a transformation possible.

  I needed to find a live animal now. That was my best chance of escaping the sun. So, I tried to forget about the hawk overhead and brought my attention to the ground, looking for some small critter I could snatch before my speed and strength were stolen from me.

  Other than the sparse brush, I didn’t see anything else around besides dirt and rocks.

  Then I noticed a small bird perched atop one of the thin bushes. It might have just enough blood to allow a transformation, so I didn’t waste any time lunging for it, but the spry creature flew out of my grasp far too easily.

  I was already slowing down. I couldn’t jump as high as I
normally could and the burn on my back was becoming more intense by the minute.

  I frantically scoured the desert floor again, and this time was alerted to movement within one of the small bushes. As I approached, a desert hare scampered away from the safety of the bush and out into the open plain. I sprinted after it, diving into the dirt to grab its agile body, but it eluded me, and my pursuit was short lived as it disappeared into a hole in the dirt.

  “No!” I yelled in frustration, crawling over and frantically clawing at the opening to widen it like I’d be able to follow the small animal to safety. The immediate dirt around the hole gave way and began to cave in, but not fast enough to catch up to the hare. I kept digging out of sheer determination, but the farther I got from the original hole, the harder the terrain became. Dirt was getting wedged deep beneath my fingernails. I was making little progress, but it gave me an idea.

  I grabbed for a nearby rock and used it to widen the hole. It helped break up the soil, but I needed one flatter that I could use more like a shovel.

  Feeling like my skin was close to catching on fire, I desperately looked for a better rock. I ventured all the way back to where I’d awoken. Maybe even the wooden stake could help break up the rocky soil? That was when I saw the sun rays glint off something else on the ground not more than ten feet away.

  I ran over to the seemingly metal object and couldn’t believe my luck upon finding a small, collapsible shovel laying in the dirt. No; it wasn’t luck. This was another game or test left behind by Syrithia.

  “It’s like you’re daring me to come after you,” I said as I rushed back to the small hole I’d been working on, extended the shovel, and was finally able to properly dig.

  The sun was still barely over the hills to the east, but it was bearing down on me with extreme prejudice, screaming at me that I didn’t belong here. I knew that all too well. So, I dug for my life. It was too late to attempt anything else. I needed to get below the dirt before this scorched earth erased me for good.

  I pictured Fiona’s face as I continued to shovel dirt away. I had no idea what was happening to her, and that terrifying unknown made me work faster than I would have if I was simply saving my own life. Frederick had her, and I ultimately knew what Frederick did to the people I loved.

  As the hole grew, I began to believe I could really pull this off. Then I glanced down at my arms and saw the first flakes of ash peel from my skin.

  It can’t end like this! It can’t!

  My hands hurt so badly I could hardly hold the shovel any longer, but I continued to dig. I’d created a hole I could nearly fit into. It wasn’t deep, but a few inches of earth between me and the sun should be enough—it had to be because I didn’t have the time to dig any deeper.

  I sat in the hole and scooped in the piled dirt, starting with my legs, then working my way up my body. It wasn’t easy to completely submerge my upper body and head, but I managed to block out the last remaining pinholes of sunlight.

  My body remained warm, but the fire slowly subsided. It seemed I’d done it. Now I just needed to make it to nightfall without moving or being dug up by some curious animal—though maybe that could work to my advantage.

  Now I had time to think. There was nothing else I could do until sunset. Despite vampire lore, sleeping in the dirt wasn’t exactly pleasant or comfortable.

  4

  Fiona

  I decided the first thing I needed was money. I didn’t want to use credit cards and only had a few bucks in cash—not even enough to pay for my signature white mocha.

  So, after stopping at a small coffee shop I’d Googled for a cheap black coffee and bagel, I headed to the bank holding all the money given to me by the True North Society. If that money was still there, then I needed to grab it now.

  I reached the bank a half hour before it opened, so I sat in my new oddly comfortable car and sipped on the coffee, waiting for 9 a.m. to arrive. Once I finished the coffee, I tried calling Matthew, but it went straight to voicemail like his phone was off. Then I scrolled through all of Mom’s messages, debating whether I wanted to at least let her know I was still alive. In the end, I didn’t. As the minutes slowly passed, I even tried to get in five minutes before opening, but the staff still hadn’t unlocked the doors. So I stood in the doorway and stared down the idle tellers, which made no difference to their urgency whatsoever.

  “Good morning, Miss,” a heavyset woman in a gray pants suit said after unlocking the door and holding it open for me. She wore a nametag saying Patty.

  “Good morning, Patty. I need to get into my safety deposit box,” I said before she could saunter back to her desk at New Accounts.

  “Not a problem. I can help you with that.” She led me to a large room at the back of the bank. “You have your key, right?”

  I held up my keys and jingled them. Patty found my nonchalance amusing, chuckling to herself in a high, nasally tone.

  The room holding the safety deposit boxes was closed, secured by a thick metal gate, which Patty promptly unlocked. She allowed me to walk through before closing the gate.

  “Let us know if you need any assistance,” she said, then stomped away in her thick heels.

  I looked at the number on my key and matched it up with the numbers on the lock box cubbies. The number I was looking for was at the back of the room, near the floor. I unlocked the door, pulled out the metal box inside, and placed it on the table in the center of the room.

  This was my first time checking out what Matthew said had been stored for me, and everything he’d previously listed was actually here. The cash, passports, IDs, handgun, and extra clips. The only problem was, I hadn’t thought of how I would carry all this stuff out of here. So I started loading my pockets. I managed to fit the passports and IDs among all my jeans pockets. I stuffed the handgun into the waistband of my jeans and the clips into two jacket pockets. With the pistol I already had in the shoulder holster, I felt extremely weighed down with all these extra items.

  I had no more room for the cash, so decided to simply carry it out after returning the now empty box to its place and locking the door. Luckily, the gate wasn’t locked from the inside, so I could exit the room without calling for assistance.

  When I approached the teller window, the counter girl—who couldn’t be much older than me—eyed the stack of cash I was carrying.

  “Depositing?” she asked. She had far too much eye makeup on for nine o’clock in the morning and it certainly didn’t match the conservative baby blue blouse she was wearing.

  “Nope,” I said. “I’m taking this with me. Do you have a bag?”

  It seemed like I’d asked a complicated question from the inquisitive look on her face. Then she had to travel down the whole line of tellers trying to fill my request.

  She finally returned with a plastic grocery store bag. “Will this work?”

  It’s a bag, I thought, but simply smiled and nodded. Once the money was out of sight, I said, “I just have one more request. I want a cashier’s check for all the money in my checking account.”

  “You want to close the account?”

  “No; I just want to have the balance of it put in a cashier’s check.” I passed her my driver’s license, so she could look up my account.

  It was obvious the moment she found it because her eyes went wide. “All of it?”

  “All of it,” I instructed.

  “How do you want to pay for the cashier’s check?”

  “Take it out of the balance.”

  “You need to maintain a minimum balance of one thousand dollars or you’ll be charged a monthly fee. Do you have any automatic withdrawals? They may add to the fees, as well as overdraft fees if too many automatic withdrawals are made.”

  “I don’t have any automatic withdrawals set up—whatever—just leave five thousand in there and put the rest on a cashier’s check,” I said, rolling my eyes. Why couldn’t anything be easy?

  “And I need to get manager approval because this is�
�� umm… a little over my limit,” the girl said as she typed up the information for the check.

  “Then get it,” I said. “I’ll be waiting right here.” I glanced around the bank as the teller continued her work. There’d been no one waiting when I walked up to the window, but there was a line extending nearly to Home Loans now, even with three other teller windows open.

  The girl returned a few minutes later with the check and an envelope for it. “Does everything on here look correct?” she asked.

  I pulled the check closer to me, my eyes gravitating straight for the amount. Two million three hundred fifty-one thousand, four hundred and sixty-seven dollars.

  Holy crap! My hand shook as I held the check.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked.

  “P—perfect,” I said and stuffed the check into the envelope.

  The girl gave back my ID. “Do you want a receipt?”

  “No; that would just be depressing,” I said with a laugh, thanked the dumbfounded girl, and strolled past the line of customers with more money in my hands than any one person should have. I adjusted my bangs as I felt numerous pairs of eyes watching me walk out.

  I returned to my less-than-desirable station wagon, emptied all my pockets, and threw everything onto the passenger seat, except the extra gun which I tossed into the glove compartment.

  I had what I needed to live for quite a while. The cash could easily last me six months or more, without having to redeposit or dip into the money from the cashier’s check. I decided to hold onto the check for now. Opening new accounts would leave a paper trail. I needed to live completely off the grid.

  I checked my phone for any new messages, but there was nothing. Mom had stopped trying and Matthew was still MIA. I tried not to let that scare me. He was my strength and could handle anything the world threw at him. I also hadn’t received anything from Vladimir, though I wouldn’t have expected anything on the Society front to get resolved this quickly.