Angeles Underground Page 16

  “Susan and Fiona Winter,” I said.

  Gideon began typing away at the keyboard while I sat back and waited—impatiently. I wanted to know why Susan was targeted but was confident he wouldn’t provide that information to me, though I planned to ask anyway.

  “Seems your friend Susan has gotten herself into a fair amount of trouble,” Gideon said, finally looking up from his screen.

  “What has she done?” I asked.

  “She has quite a bit of outstanding debt and is suspected of killing a peacekeeper.”

  “Why on earth would she have any debt to the Order?”

  “That’s what you’re concerned about? We’re more concerned with the disappearance of Martin Harner. Are you familiar with him?”

  “What if I told you it wasn’t Susan who killed him,” I said, feeling my heartbeat speed up as the consul’s dark eyes bore into me.

  “I’m listening,” Gideon said, leaning forward and steepling his hands. “Who might have done such a thing?”

  “I did,” I blurted out without hesitation. “I did so not knowing he was a peacekeeper for the Order. He was going after Susan’s daughter Fiona—who was innocent—in an attempt to get Susan’s attention. I didn’t learn who Martin actually was until it was too late.”

  “I see. Anything else you’d like to confess?”

  I swallowed hard, a part of me feeling I was signing my own death warrant yet understanding enough of the future to know I wouldn’t die today. “There was another peacekeeper investigating Martin’s disappearance. He also intended to kill Fiona to send a message to Susan. I killed him before he was able to do so.”

  “And you knew he was a peacekeeper before you killed him,” Gideon said, coldly.

  I nodded. “And that is truly why I am here. To plead amnesty for my friends and put myself at the mercy of the Order.”

  “You do realize how serious this is, do you not?”

  “I do.”

  “And this all began due to outstanding debt, which has yet to be paid.”

  “If the Order will allow, I will pay the outstanding debt. Just tell me what is owed.”

  “It’s no meager sum of money.”

  “I can come up with it,” I insisted.

  Gideon reached for his cigar and took another long drag, rocking as he contemplated everything discussed. His face revealed very little and was soon veiled in a cloud of smoke, giving him a sinister aura.

  “Your clean record until now will not be overlooked. These are serious requests and infractions, but I think the Order will also be interested to hear about your connection to the True North Society.” Gideon paused to scratch his stubbly face. “I will plead your case to the Order and then contact you with their decision. Until then, any further action against Susan and Fiona will be suspended.”

  I knew that was the best I could hope for and let out a long breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. I didn’t have to worry about any more official attacks against Fiona and her mother until my fate had been decided. That bought me some much-needed time—though how much, I didn’t know. Judging by Assembly meetings, I had several days to a week. Hopefully, that would be enough time to secure Fiona’s and Susan’s safety regardless of the outcome.

  “Thank you, Mr. Brent,” I said, stood up, and offered my hand. “I’ll eagerly await your call.”

  33

  Fiona

  Over the next several days of training with Mallory and the other two candidates, I started to feel more confident in my abilities. We started to rotate between fencing, hand-to-hand combat, and target practice, which it turned out I had more of a natural inclination for. I’d never previously fired a gun in my life, but I seemed to have steady hands and an innate aim.

  We practiced with 3D-printed carbon fiber handguns of the Society’s proprietary design, which shot regular 9mm bullets. We were taught about the vampire sleeper bullets, wood encased hollow points that splintered upon impact to remain in vampires’ bodies and impair their abilities to heal. These kinds of low caliber bullets didn’t have the ability to kill vampires, but were very effective in slowing them down and completely incapacitating them with a direct shot to the heart—hence the sleepers nickname.

  For hundreds of years, wooden stakes had been the weapons of choice—especially when shot from crossbows. Wooden stakes to the heart did not kill vampires as lore would have you believe, but put them into a deep perpetual sleep, then requiring their heads to be cut off or their bodies burned. However, a wooden stake could easily be pulled out, and within minutes, an afflicted vampire would be healed. Splinters in the heart from a sleeper bullet were not so easily removed. So, we were taught to aim for the heart and shoot without prejudice.

  “Very nice bullet grouping,” Vladimir said, stepping up from behind me. He wore protective glasses like the rest of us but didn’t feel the need for earplugs.

  I hit the button to pull back the paper target, where my last ten shots had hit in or around the heart designation. There were a few stray holes, but Vladimir didn’t focus on those.

  “I’m impressed with how quickly you’re picking this up, especially as a complete novice,” he said, taking the target off the clip and reviewing it more closely.

  “Since I’ve been so terrible at everything else?” I asked with a wry smile.

  “You’ve just required a little extra attention, that’s all. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Not everyone’s been training their entire lives.”

  And almost like she was being summoned, Mallory peeked around the divider from the next bay. “Wow, Fiona. That’s some awesome shooting. I wouldn’t want to be in an old school duel with you.”

  “Let me see yours,” I demanded, then stepped into her bay. Her target was still by the far wall, but even at that distance, I could tell she didn’t have any outlier bullet holes. Her cluster of holes was so tight around the heart it nearly became one gaping hole. “Just as I suspected,” I said, rolling my eyes and returning to my bay.

  “What?” she whined.

  Instead of responding, I clipped on a clean target, activated the conveyer belt to position it, then picked up my weapon. Vladimir had moved on to Barry, who was shooting on the other side of me. I aimed my gun with both hands, legs staggered, feet shoulder width apart, like Vladimir had shown me. I breathed in, then squeezed the trigger. By the time I heard the explosion, there was already a hole in the heart of the vampire outline twenty yards away. Determined that my aim was good, I continued to empty the magazine, then reloaded and continued the exercise.

  Once out of my allotment of bullets for the session, I released the empty magazine and placed it in the bucket together with the handgun. I nodded as I walked by Mallory with my supplies. She was still going strong.

  Outside of the enclosed firing range, I removed my protective glasses and earplugs, then dropped them both into the bucket as well. I looked up at the sound of Vladimir coming through the door.

  “Good job today,” he said. “It’s late; get some rest.”

  “Yeah, my arms are so sore,” I said, though it was a satisfying kind of soreness.

  He walked behind the gun case and squatted down, momentarily disappearing from view. When he rose and made his way back to me, I noticed he was carrying a holster with straps.

  “Let me help you put this on,” he said and proceeded to loop the straps through my arms and secure the holster under my armpit. Then I noticed he had a full magazine, which he slapped into my gun with a loud click. He held the now loaded weapon by the barrel and offered it to me. “This is yours now. And it’s loaded with sleepers. It’s time to start carrying it regularly.”

  “Seriously?” I asked, gazing down at the weapon in an entirely new way. It was no longer a tool for training, but a deadly weapon.

  “And here are two spare magazines. You can sign out additional bullets when you need them, but this should be a good start. I don’t expect you’ll suddenly become a vampire gunslinger.” Vladimir laughed at his own
joke, which quickly soured when I didn’t join in. “You can put the rest of your stuff in your locker, but the gun should be kept on your person.”

  I stuffed the spare magazines into my back pockets, then holstered my weapon, feeling the weight of it tugging on the straps. “Thank you,” I said. “Though this will take some getting used to.”

  “As with everything in the Society,” he said before heading back into the firing range.

  I left the training area, knowing it was well after dark, eager to get back to the apartment and Matthew—eager to greet him, kiss him, and ask him about his day like couples typically did. Were we becoming one? It felt like we were, but I didn’t know if I was mismanaging my expectations again.

  I stepped out from the North Building and into the cool night air, crossing the cleared forest grounds to reach the prison. I knew it was late—or early for some—but I wasn’t used to being the only one out here, walking along a desolate manicured trail alone.

  I was about halfway between buildings when I heard the snapping of twigs behind me. I tried not to react rashly, knowing this compound was about as safe a space as I could hope for. But the sudden sound certainly alarmed me. I picked up my pace seeing the gate of the prison before me and the spotlights shining from within.

  Then with a rush of wind, a dark figure was standing ten feet in front of me. No human could move that fast. The low guttural snarl coming from the creature was all too familiar from my time in Sisters of Mercy. Then, when he opened his mouth, I saw the glint of fangs in the moonlight.

  I gazed up at the inner tower of the prison, all the way up to the tenth floor where Matthew resided, wondering if he was up there. If he was standing at the window, he’d be able to see me. A terrible chill swept through me at the thought he wasn’t there, and I was completely alone.

  The vampire sped toward me, reaching out with his claws, knocking me to the ground. The fabric around my midsection was shredded and wetness around the wound spread and soaked into my shirt and spilled through the material.

  He was now standing behind me—toying with me. I had no time to waste, so jumped to my feet, trying to remember what I’d been taught. But now there was a strange vampire right here, I started to doubt everything I’d been practicing.

  It’s not going to work. He’s too fast. He’s too strong.

  In the blink of an eye, the vampire stood inches away and backhanded me across the face, sending me sprawling to the ground again. The familiar metallic taste filled my mouth as blood pooled. I scrambled backward, then stopped and reached for my holster. I fumbled with the strap and clumsily tugged the gun out. I fired.

  The menacing creature snarled and leapt into the air just as the sleeper bullet sailed past. He soared overhead, and I did my best to follow him with the shaking barrel. When he landed the other side of me, I fired again, several quick bursts. I didn’t even care about aiming for his heart, but just wanted to hit somewhere—anywhere—on his body to slow him down even the slightest bit.

  Two bullets went wide, but the third hit him in the shoulder, knocking him back a step. The vampire screamed in pain and rage, throwing back his head, his mouth gaping, showcasing his terrible fangs.

  I fired again, but he still managed to dodge the bullet and advanced on me in a flash. I fell back and pulled the trigger, hitting him in the chest, but barely slowing him. A second later, his hands were around my neck, forcing my head to the side, ready to sink his teeth into me. But I was still pulling the trigger, now shooting him at point blank range. Before he managed to take a bite, his body went limp and he slumped on top of me.

  I dropped my arms and head to the dirt and let out a sigh of relief, though I was unable to take in a deep breath with all the dead weight on my chest. I fought to maneuver my leg, which had been bent backward in the attack, finally getting it straight, then taking a moment to regain some strength. I closed my eyes and swallowed some of the blood collecting in my mouth.

  The vampire wasn’t moving, and lying chest to chest, I couldn’t feel his heartbeat. However, mine was hammering away like a madman.

  Using all the strength I could muster, I strained to push the unconscious vampire off me. I couldn’t push him completely free, but enough to where I could then wiggle out from underneath and get to my feet.

  I glanced around the open landscape at all the buildings that now seemed so very far away. Still, there wasn’t a soul around, which still struck me as incredibly strange. But more importantly, I needed to ensure this guy didn’t have any friends.

  How did he get into the compound in the first place? I asked myself. Matthew always talked about how protected and secure it was. But then again, he’d also said that about Sisters of Mercy.

  The echoing sound of clapping was coming from nearby trees. When I spun around again, gun aimed in its direction, I noticed two female figures stepping out of the shadows and into the moonlight.

  “Very good, Fiona,” said a commanding voice, which I soon realized belonged to President Janice Bolt. The woman to her left was Ashley.

  “What?” I asked, now feeling more of the pain emanating from my stomach where the vampire’s claws had sliced me. “What’s all this?”

  “A simple test,” she said, still walking toward me.

  “A test? You mean he wasn’t real?”

  “Oh, he was real,” Ashley chimed in. “He just wasn’t a real enemy.”

  “You performed admirably,” Janice said, now standing before me. She looked down at the vampire sprawled out on the ground, blood seeping out from under his buried chest. “You still have a lot to learn, but you didn’t freeze. You recognized the threat and fought back, against overwhelming odds.”

  “If I hadn’t, he was going to kill me,” I shot back, feeling my anger rising up from the admission this was a test—some sick game.

  “Which was precisely the point. But you’d be surprised how many people freeze and are unable to fight back, even when their lives are on the line.” Janice put a hand on my shoulder. “Come with Ashley to the infirmary, so you can get cleaned up. Your injuries aren’t terrible, but they’re probably still quite painful.”

  “My sensitivity to pain has been dulled,” I said sharply. “Since my time in…” My words trailed off.

  “In Sisters of Mercy,” Ashley said. “The experience changes you.”

  I nodded. She understood, but I still didn’t fully grasp how she’d want others to go through that dreadful experience, especially now I’d been through it myself.

  “I’ll be fine,” I said, not wanting to go with them. I wanted Matthew to see me like this, curious about his reaction. And he could heal me. I didn’t need the infirmary tech, Kelly, dabbing me with antiseptic and bandaging me up.

  “We keep vampire blood on hand,” Janice said.

  “So do I,” I argued. “What about him?” I pointed to the body on the ground.

  “We’ll get him fixed up too,” Ashley said. “He knew what he was getting himself into.”

  “If he truly wanted to kill me, he could have, couldn’t he?” I asked, gazing down at the dark mass on the ground.

  “Do you really want the answer to that?” Janice asked.

  I shook my head, wanting to think of the experience as a true win. Without saying another word, I staggered away from them, making my way for the prison gate.

  34

  Matthew

  I expected more of a reaction from Susan when she turned on the light and found me sitting in her living room. The sun was already down, with the curtains drawn, so the rooms had been dark when she’d entered. I noticed her flinch, but she tried to hide it. Other than that, she appeared perfectly calm, which slightly unnerved me.

  “Hello, Matthew,” she said before I had a chance to speak, stealing the power away from me.

  “Susan,” I said firmly. “We need to talk.”

  “Yes; we do.” She was carrying a bag of groceries and brought them into the kitchen. Without seeming the least bit intimidated, she
began systematically putting the food away while I was forced to wait for her to finish.

  “It seems you’re in a bit of trouble with the Order,” I said, curious what kind of response the mention of the Order would elicit. I specifically left out the word vampire.

  “The situation is under control,” she said. “When is my daughter coming home?”

  “What makes you think she’s with me?” I asked, standing up for a better view of her, but remaining in the open living room.

  “Let’s not kid each other, Matthew. I know where she’s been and I know you have her,” she said, closing the refrigerator and glaring at me. “I know you’ve been watching her for years. And it seems you still haven’t realized I’ve been watching you during that same time.” She took some cans and boxes out of the bag, opened the pantry door, then leaned in to put the items away. When she returned to her full height and closed the door, she was suddenly holding a semi-automatic pistol with a long noise suppressor.

  I didn’t think she was actually going to shoot me, so I didn’t immediately react, which made me a fraction of a second too late. Several shots fired into my chest, the bullets exploding within my body, so there were no exit wounds. Searing bursts of pain erupted throughout my upper body and I found myself unable to breathe as I dropped to my knees. My arm slammed into the coffee table as I tried to keep myself upright. I was losing strength fast, and recognizing the sharp objects stabbing me from the inside, I had a pretty good feeling I wasn’t going to be healing anytime soon.

  Susan was walking around the couch to check on me, her gun still aimed in my direction. “You’re still underestimating me,” she said, her face deadpanned. “I want my daughter to come home. She’s safer with me than you, despite what you may think.”

  My arm shook violently under my own weight and I soon fell between the coffee table and couch. Susan took a seat on the farthest cushion, leaning forward with her forearms on her knees.