“And I don’t appreciate you breaking into my home. We need boundaries if we’re going to remain in each other’s lives. Is that understood?”
“What have you done?” I stammered, almost unable to get the words out.
“You must recognize the bullets your group created,” she said, amused. “I believe you call them sleepers?”
“You—you killed Martin,” I said. “The peacekeeper.”
“The assassin,” she said. “They’d sent a message to me, so I returned the favor. Seems only fair. They need to learn we aren’t to be messed with either.”
“We?”
“I’m not going to kill you, just like I know you’re not going to kill me. We have Fiona to thank for that. So, I will help you back to your car and you will bring my daughter home. Do we understand each other?” Susan stood, glaring down at me impatiently. “Get up, Matthew.”
“I can’t,” I said, trying to use my arms to lift my upper body, then falling back to the floor.
“I don’t want to hear that,” she retorted. “I know you’re stronger than that.” Susan stuffed the gun into the back of her pants, then grabbed one of my arms, tugging me upward.
With her help, I managed to get to my feet, then continued to use her as a crutch as we headed for the door.
“Who are you?” I asked, not knowing what to make of this entire interaction. I came for some answers, and instead would be leaving with even more questions. I thought we were the only ones with sleeper bullets. What had she been doing watching me all this time? How did she even know about me before I’d ever made contact?
“I thought you knew, Matthew,” she said innocently, sounding so much like Fiona.
We staggered through the parking lot and I directed her to my Land Rover. I unlocked the door and she helped me into the driver’s seat.
“Go home and get some rest,” she insisted. “I expect to see my daughter before day’s end tomorrow.”
“These bullets don’t work like that,” I said, cringing at the thought of what needed to be done. “I need to get someone to dig out the splinters.”
“They’re not your sleeper bullets,” Susan said. “They’re our modification to your design. The splinters will dissolve within a few hours. Now, go.”
She slammed the door and I slumped onto the steering wheel in pain. It felt like the fire in my chest was growing. I didn’t know how I was going to be able to drive home in this condition but started the car anyway. As I carefully pulled out of the parking lot, I noticed Susan still watching me, which it seemed she’d been doing far longer than I’d realized.
35
Fiona
Peter looked horrified when he saw me. I stepped into the elevator and assured him I was alright—that it all looked much worse than it actually was.
“Is Matthew in the apartment?” I asked, folding my arms to cover the rips across the center of my shirt.
“He is,” Peter answered, refusing to look me in the eyes. He kept his attention on the changing floor numbers as we ascended to the penthouses.
I wished him a good evening as I stepped out of the elevator and staggered to Matthew’s front door. I’d been programed into the retinal scanner, so was able to come and go as I pleased without Matthew’s constant assistance.
Inside the apartment, it was dark, but I’d become accustomed to the layout enough to maneuver my way around without flipping on all the lights.
“Matthew?” I called softly into the darkness. I knew his hearing was far more heightened than any human’s, so he could hear a mere whisper clear across the expansive space. And I didn’t want to disturb him any more than necessary.
I finally turned on the kitchen light, waiting for a response. But the apartment was deathly silent.
I quietly padded across the carpet to my room, heading straight for the en suite. After seeing myself in the mirror, I could better appreciate Peter’s response. I looked like I’d been mauled by a wild animal, which in essence I had been.
I unhooked the holster straps and placed my new weapon on the counter as I proceeded to douse my face with cold water, then rinse my mouth to get out the lingering taste of blood. I pulled off my shredded shirt, then simply stood and stared at my grotesque reflection.
The crimson lines raking across my abdomen were crusty; dried blood had spilled from one line to the next, making a chaotic ladder. Luckily, he hadn’t cut me too deeply. My left cheek was noticeably swollen where the vampire had smacked me. The white scar on my right shoulder and lines marking my right cheek seemed to fit right in with the rest of the damage—the constant reminders I would never be completely whole. Then I gazed down at my palm, where the Society-inflicted gash was still healing; it too was meant to leave a scar—a symbol and a reminder of what I was committing to.
Bound in blood. Bound as one.
I dabbed at the slashes across my stomach with a wet washcloth, wincing at the pressure against the sensitive wounds, though I knew I’d have noticed the pain much more a few weeks ago.
When I stepped back into the bedroom, I listened for any sound beyond my door, but the apartment was still quiet. I pulled on the Rolling Stones nightshirt and slipped out of my shoes and pants. I was bone tired after the night I’d had, but before crawling into bed, I made one more pace around the apartment.
There were more rooms than any one person needed and I peeked my head into all of them. Lastly, I stepped into Matthew’s bedroom. The door was open and the lights off, so it had seemed to be empty. But then I noticed a dark shape on the bed, someone lying on top of the covers.
“Matthew, are you asleep?” I asked, quietly creeping into the room. If he was, I didn’t want to wake him.
“Fiona…” he croaked, and from the sound of his voice, something was certainly wrong.
“What is it?” I asked, apprehensively stepping closer to the bed. Then I saw the dark patches all over the front of his shirt. I didn’t need the light on to know it was blood. “What happened to you? Why aren’t you healing?”
“Sleeper bullets,” he said, his voice still strained. “The splinters are still stuck inside me.”
“Then you need to let me help you to the infirmary. I think that’s where they were going to take the vampire that attacked me.”
“What?” His face showed the alarm in his voice and he tried to get up, but groaned, and fell back down onto the mattress. “What are you talking about?”
“Never mind that now,” I insisted. “I’m all right. Janice and Ashley saw to it. But what happened to you?”
“I’ll be okay. The synthetic splinters will dissolve, allowing me to heal. It’s just taking some time.”
“Synthetic splinters?” I was so confused, but when he didn’t answer, I crawled onto the bed next to him. Careful of his wounds, I simply placed a hand on his arm. His skin was so cold.
“You’re not allowed to leave me,” I said, nuzzling my face to his.
“You can’t get rid of me so easily,” he replied, a slight chuckle escaping his lips. “But…”
I didn’t like the sound of that but.
“It is time for you to go home,” he said. “I’ll take you tomorrow, after any training sessions you have planned.”
“Why is that so important all of a sudden?” I asked.
“It’s not—it’s just time.”
“Before, you said it was dangerous.”
“I’ve taken care of everything,” he said, still not turning to look at me, his face pointed toward the ceiling. “You’ll be safe. I promise.”
The thought of going home felt like a welcomed treat, though I’d quickly become accustomed to coming here and loved the limited time we’d spent together. I’d spent most of my days training and Matthew had spent his time doing other things he wasn’t so forthcoming with discussing, so we’d mostly had only nights to meet each other. And through most of them, we were warmly cuddled together in my bed. However, whenever make-out sessions became too heated, he continually pulled b
ack, leaving me wondering if he really wanted me. But then again, I didn’t know how things would work between humans and vampires—if we were really physically compatible when it came to taking our relationship to the next level. In the end, he’d simply hold me until I fell asleep.
But tonight, it was my turn to hold him.
Matthew was horrified when he saw my face the next morning. His afflictions had miraculously healed throughout the night—while mine predictably did not. I didn’t think I looked terrible when I checked myself in the mirror, but my cheek was swollen and some shade of dark purple. Then I noticed the few blood spots on his tee-shirt I’d worn to bed, which forced me to show him my stomach as well.
Even though I told him it wasn’t just some random attack, but a pop-quiz set up by Janice and Ashley, he still acted like he feared for my safety. “Why didn’t you say something?” he commanded, back to his regular self as he dabbed his blood on my aching wounds.
“You weren’t exactly in the best condition to be giving me some of your blood,” I protested. “You had enough to worry about.”
“A few drops would have been nothing for me, but everything for you.”
“You’re taking care of me now. I’m fine. Really.” I handed him the shirt, which had much more blood on it than I’d anticipated. “I’m sorry about your shirt. I hope this comes out.”
“I’m not worried about the shirt,” he said, taking it from me, then throwing it over his shoulder like a towel.
“I’m gonna get cleaned up, if you don’t mind,” I said, not wanting him to get any ideas now with me down to my underwear, covered in blood—a horror show that most likely enticed him, though I couldn’t help feeling incredibly disgusting. I pushed past him, so I could shower in my room.
I was able to fit in a few more training sessions before Matthew collected me. We went back to his apartment and I gathered up my limited things. I didn’t have an overshirt thick and loose enough to conceal the gun holster, so stuffed my new weapon in my suitcase, hiding it all the way at the bottom.
“You never did tell me what happened to you last night,” I said as we walked from the prison to the North Building. Looking down at the dirt, I noticed some residual blood from the midnight encounter. I didn’t linger on the sight, not wanting Matthew to make the connection.
“And I told you it’s nothing to worry about,” he answered sharply.
“I’m not worried, just curious. I thought we were in a good place where we could talk to each other about stuff.” Oh God, was I really giving him the open communication for good relationships speech?
“That’s one of the problems with being a part of the Society and us being together—there are things I do that are above your pay grade.” Matthew gave a nonchalant shrug, letting me know I had little choice but to live with it.
“Then what do I have to do to get to such a pay grade?” I asked sarcastically.
“It takes more than a single lifetime.”
“Oh, I see. Playing the immortal vampire card. Nice.” I rolled my eyes.
We weren’t exactly talking when we reached the Land Rover and headed out of the secure compound. When we arrived at my apartment complex, he drove right up to the sidewalk leading to my front door, in full view of the kitchen window. I thought he’d want to be a bit more secretive or subtle, but even questioning his actions at this point would just be taken as another argument.
So instead, I said, “It’s going to suck sleeping alone tonight.”
“The apartment will be lonely without you,” he said with a halfhearted smile.
Matthew’s hand was on the gearshift, and I reached out to place my hand over his. “I feel the same way,” I said.
“At least you have your mother and sister.” He leaned in to kiss me, but I backed away.
“My sister? What do you mean?” I asked, not understanding where that was coming from. He knew my sister was dead.
He suddenly flushed and retreated to his side of the vehicle. “I just meant you have family that loves you,” he said, obviously backtracking.
“What do you know about my sister?” I pressed.
Matthew sighed and ran a hand through his wavy hair. “I know she’s not entirely gone. She spoke to me.”
“When was this?”
“While you were in the hospital.”
“Which hospital?”
“Sisters of Mercy.”
“What were you doing in my apartment while I was locked up?” I glared at him, daring him to give me another vague non-answer. “Or is that also above my pay grade?”
“I was checking to make sure someone else wasn’t coming after your mother or looking for you.”
“You know what that vampire was talking about, don’t you? I bet you knew it even when I asked. Why are vampires after my mother?”
“I don’t want to worry you,” Matthew said in a calming voice.
“Well, if she’s involved with vampires, then I should be worried. And you said it was safe for me to go home. How is it safe for any of us if my mother is involved with vampires?” I wasn’t going to yell at him but was afraid that with our proximity to the apartment, if Mom was home, she’d be able to hear me.
“Because I’m saying you’ll be safe—you both will.”
“That’s right—because I’ll keep the both of us safe,” I said, knowing I sounded like a petulant child, but too upset to care. I didn’t want to hear any more of this and wanted to make a point of storming off.
Matthew didn’t move as I shoved the door open and grabbed my suitcase from the backseat. His face was solemn as he watched me through the tinted glass. As we gazed at each other, I thought he was going to lower the window; when he didn’t, I gave a curt wave and stomped away.
The tires squealed as Matthew drove off, causing me to stop a moment and think about how precariously we’d left things. But there was nothing I could do about it right then. Matthew was gone and I could see the kitchen light on inside. Mom was home and I would now have to face her; I had to quickly calm down or wouldn’t be able to handle anything she threw my way.
After taking a series of deep breaths, I continued down the sidewalk, took out my key, and was about to push it in the keyhole when the door opened.
“Fiona?”
I was not prepared for this.
Sean stood in the doorway, eyes wide, seemingly trying to figure out if I was real.
36
Matthew
I drove back to the compound in a blinding rage. It was times like these that I reminded myself I should be keeping my distance from Fiona and it would save us both a lot of trouble. I didn’t need this extra romantic complication in my life. It would be easy to find a woman who’d be so much simpler.
And it was at times like these I remembered Taylor, who just wanted to please me—or at least, just wanted to please a vampire. But I’d promised myself I wouldn’t go back to her. She tempted me in too many ways, reverting me back to the monster I once was.
So I did the next best thing.
I stormed through the outer wall of the prison and was granted access to the tower by mere sight. But I didn’t go for the freight elevator and didn’t go for the stairs. I marched through General Population, relishing the obscenities and the threats coming from behind countless cells as I passed. Not many of the inmates here knew who I was, but a few unlucky ones did. When I passed a quiet cell, I wondered if it belonged to someone I’d visited before.
Past General Population and down one floor was where Solitary was located. I picked one room at random, swiftly entered the confined space, then slammed the door shut. The man in the hole hadn’t even seen me since he’d had to shut his eyes when the light briefly flooded into the room. Now, it was pitch black again—for him. The room was dark for me, but I could still see. I looked at the ragged man hunched on the floor against the stone wall.
“Is somebody there?” he asked with a scratchy voice.
“Yes,” I answered.
It
was only a whisper, but the man spasmed in fear, his head hitting the wall as his body jerked.
“I—I’ve heard the rumors. Please—please don’t hurt me.”
“Then you’d know begging never works.” I stepped closer to him and knelt, my face now inches from his.
He shook violently. The room was so quiet I could hear his heart thwacking arrhythmically in his chest. He was staring right at me even though I knew he couldn’t see a thing.
“Please… God…” He started to cry.
“God cannot be found in solitary,” I said, lunged forward, and sank my teeth into his neck.
The man screamed and fought, but no one could hear him through the thickly reinforced walls. But now he was one of the few who knew the rumors were true—one of the new believers.
When I was done with him, the man was bloody, broken and barely conscious. I didn’t know who he was or what he’d done to get locked into this maximum security facility, and I didn’t care. I didn’t kill him, which was all that mattered. I’d also leave him to heal on his own.
I sat against the cold stone, my rage finally reducing to guilt. I’d pushed back my thirty-day chip yet again. I had an urge to call Jezebel, but the walls were too thick, and I wouldn’t be able to get a signal. I also couldn’t bring myself to get up, so remained on the floor with the bloodied man for longer than I’d willingly admit to anyone else.
37
Fiona
“Sean, what are you doing here?” I asked once getting through the initial shock.
But he didn’t even seem to be listening. He stepped out of the doorway with relief washing over his face and threw his arms around me.
“Did I hear Fiona’s voice?” Mom cried from inside, and a moment later, she’d pushed Sean aside and was crying on my shoulder. “What the hell are you doing to me, kid?”
Angeles Underground Page 17
