Chapter 10 Fly High
FLY HIGH
“You look perfect,” I say as I brush a microscopic piece of lint from Angel's shoulders.
He regards his reflection in the mirror and puffs his chest, fussing with his hair and making tiny adjustments.
"I'm just glad the vampire mirror thing is a myth.
I don't think I'd be able to do my hair without one.
" He leans closer to the glass, smoothing a hand over the glossy black waves that soften his sharp features and slicking down a baby hair into a neat curl below his temple—too pretty for a man like him, but somehow fitting him exactly.
I want to freeze these last few precious moments together.
Like we savored the hours leading up to today—the digital clock ticking down above us, impending doom creeping ever closer to the door.
I would do anything to rewind time. Back to a few hours ago when we lay twisted together, talking about everything and nothing all at once. It was bliss.
"Forgive me, Sophia. I was so angry," he'd said as his lips brushed my shoulder. "I'm sorry for all the things I said...and for trying to kill you."
"I'm sorry for being complicit in your kidnapping and death."
We'd stared at each other for a heartbeat. Then we both lost it—laughing so hard the bed shook, gasping and breathless. The sound was so sweet and magical I wanted to bottle it, preserve it for spellwork.
He'd told me he'd come around to the idea that he was going to be living amongst strangers for a while, bound to a man who wanted to punish his family in some twisted revenge fantasy.
"I know it sounds fucked up, but it has to be better than the hell I was living in before. Always trying to please a man who hated me to the core." Then he'd brushed the scar on my eyebrow with his fingers and kissed the side of my temple. "What happened here? You never told me."
I'd turned to face him and lifted a bundle of curls from my forehead to give him a better view. "It happened when I was hitchhiking to find the Malditas. I ended up in a few sketchy situations. A few pervs looking to trade a ride for a BJ, that kind of thing."
Angel's face had hardened, his jaw set into a grimace, but his fingertips stayed light as he traced my scar like it was made of something fragile.
"Most of the time I could subdue them with a few harsh words, but one time this country prick in a pickup truck got grabby is all. I said no. He pulled a box cutter on me. I fought like hell and thankfully lived to tell the tale."
Angel swallowed then kissed my scar. "You might always be older and stronger than me, Sophia, but trust me. If anyone ever lays a finger on you again, I'll kill them myself."
The gesture was so sweet that I couldn't help but humor his enthusiasm. "I appreciate it. And I'd do the same for you."
I glance up at the clock and then back to the mirror. One more minute. I slip my hand in Angel's and drink in the image of us standing together like an odd couple, waiting for fate to deliver her next hand.
"Maybe I should have put on a dress?" I say, gesturing over to the closet crammed full of designer gear.
"You're perfect," he says as he runs his knuckles along my cheek. "I love the red lips. Very vampire of you."
"Ha! Funny you should say that. By the way, there's one thing before I forget..." I press a little piece of paper into his palm. "My number. Just text me whenever you get settled, and we'll arrange to meet."
He raises his eyebrows. "You mean I can't just send you a psychic message or something?"
"I wish it was that easy, but alas, we're bound by the laws of magic and forever chained to technology."
He pockets the number and taps his jacket. "Shame. I was beginning to think being a vampire was cool."
The mechanical grinding starts exactly on time.7:28 p.m., just like Julian promised.
We watch the heavy locks disengage, one by one. The beeps echo through the bunker like a countdown.
Angel's hand tightens around mine. "Whatever happens," he whispers, "I'll find you, Sophia. I am not going anywhere."
I want to believe him. Want to believe that love and blood bonds and ten days of stolen happiness mean something against whatever's waiting on the other side of that door.
But I can feel a wrongness in my bones. The air in the bunker crackles with menace. Silent and loaded with spilled secrets and stolen blood.
The door groans as it swings open.
Julian stands there, flanked by four forgettable-looking guards. His thin face breaks into a toothy smile that makes my blood chill in my veins.
"Well, well," he says, stepping inside. His eyes sweep over us—our joined hands, Angel's undead glow, the last remnants of our happiness still clinging to the air like perfume. "Don't you two look cozy."
I drop his hand, and Angel moves in front of me like a shield. "Are you the guy who did this to me? Are you the boss?"
"No. I'm simply the messenger. Your sire will be along shortly.
I'm just here to ensure everything has gone to plan.
" Julian walks further into the room, his hand resting on the crossbow on his hip.
"You look remarkably well, Mr. Ruiz. Better than well, actually.
You look...extraordinary. I trust your stay was comfortable? "
"Wonderful," he grits out.
"The Primus will be very pleased," Julian continues, running a finger along the edge of Angel's collar. "Very pleased indeed."
"Where is he?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady. "I was told I'd be meeting with Lazaro when this was done. To collect payment."
Julian drags his eyes over me, curling his lip when he reaches my battered Chucks. I want the ground to swallow me, but I force myself to stand up straighter.
"Trust me, child. You'll get what's coming to you."
A voice booms from the corridor, and I sense his presence way before my eyes settle on him. Lazaro Malvini. The Primus.
Julian steps aside but keeps his eyes on us, warning us not to try anything.
Not that we would. The boss is flanked by twins with stone-cold eyes, both dressed in burgundy silk suits.
Their dirty-blond hair is slicked back, glossy with oil, and their matching, sickening grins sit too easily on their otherwise handsome faces.
Lazaro is immaculate. He's larger than I expected, with a shock of salt-and-pepper hair framing a handsome, middle-aged face. His beard is groomed to precision, and his mustache curls upward at the edges like a ringmaster—or a war general frozen in some ancient daguerreotype.
His eyes land on Angel, and his face lights up as he splays his arms. "There he is. My newest son. Beautiful boy, come to me."
I reach for Angel's hand, but he's already moving, already stepping away from me. His expression is glazed, distant—like he's sleepwalking. One half of a sire bond pulling him forward like a fish on a line.
Lazaro kisses Angel on both cheeks and then pulls back to study him. "Look at you," Lazaro murmurs, his hands on Angel's shoulders. "Perfection. Absolutely perfect." He tilts Angel's face up, studying him like a prized possession. "How do you feel?"
"Strong," Angel says, and his voice sounds strange and disconnected. Like he's speaking from underwater.
"Good. That's very good." Lazaro's smile widens. "You're where you belong." Lazaro's hands tighten on Angel's shoulders. "Do you know why you're here, my precious boy? Do you know why I chose you?"
Angel's jaw tightens. "To punish my father."
"Precisely." Lazaro's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Your father thought he could steal from me. Thought he could skim millions off our operations and I wouldn't notice. We had considered ransoming you—letting him buy back his precious son. Do you know what he said when we made the offer?"
Angel doesn't respond, but his hands curl into fists.
"He said we could keep you." Lazaro's voice is gentle. "Said you weren't worth the price we were asking."
Angel's body stiffens, his hands forming fists down by his sides. The twins watch in amusement. Soaking in Angel's anguish and loving every minute.
"I'm very talented when it comes to violence, Angel.
So I decided the greatest punishment wasn't killing you," Lazaro continues.
"It was making you ours. Making you serve the very people he tried to screw over.
Making him live with the knowledge that his son—his flesh and blood—belongs to his enemies. "
"I don't belong to anyone," Angel says, but his voice lacks conviction.
"Don't you?" Lazaro's smile widens. "My blood runs in your veins.
My power sustains you. I am your maker, Angel.
Your sire. And while I may be able to make requests, you still have choices.
" He pauses to let it sink in. "For example, if you wanted to kill your father, I would not stop you.
You're strong enough now, aren't you? All grown up.
His capo's bullets won't do anything to you.
You could walk into his compound and tear him apart with your bare hands. "
I watch Angel consider it. The rage and hurt and betrayal warring on his face.
"Perhaps that would be too easy," Lazaro muses.
"Far too quick. Too clean. Better to let him watch you thrive without him.
Watch you become powerful. Watch you serve the family he tried to destroy.
" He squeezes Angel's shoulders. "I've always enjoyed taking in strays, you see.
Offering them love where others have failed.
I love to create children. Always have. You're one of us now, Angel. You're special. One of a kind."
Special. One of a kind.
My stomach twists. What does he know?
But Lazaro's attention is still on Angel, studying him like a proud father. "I'm going to do great things with you beside me. Wonderful things. I can feel it."
I watch in equal parts fascination and horror. Desperate to get out of this place and back to safety. La Madre was right about these creatures. Nothing but evil. Nothing but greed. We don't belong with vampires like them.
I clear my throat. "My payment," I say, my voice sounding feeble in this room full of monsters. "You said one hundred thousand. I'd like to collect it and go."
Lazaro's head turns slowly toward me. His expression shifts, something cold sliding behind his eyes like a shadow.
"Ah, yes. Sophia." He releases Angel, walks toward me with small, menacing steps. "You've been wonderful. Truly. You kept him alive through the turning. Kept him safe. Kept him...entertained. You went above and beyond, and I can't thank you enough."
I shift my weight, crossing my bare arms across my chest. "It's no problem. It's my job."
"You did more than your job." Lazaro stops in front of me. Too close. "You made him comfortable. Made him happy. Made him..." He tilts his head, studying me. "Special."
My throat goes dry.
"But that's a problem for me, you see." Lazaro's voice drops. "Angel is my son now. My creation, and I will not share him."
I take a step back, raising my hands in surrender. "Hey, listen, I'm nobody. I'm just the hired help. I'll take my money, and I promise you'll never see me again—"
"No," Lazaro says softly. "I don't think so."
The temperature in the room drops.
"What?" I breathe.
"You cannot live, Sophia Vijil." He says it so calmly. So matter-of-factly. "You're a liability. A weakness in my son that I cannot allow. Julian—"
Julian steps forward, aiming a miniature crossbow in my direction.
"Wait—" I stumble backward. "We had a deal—"
"Deals change." Lazaro doesn't even look at me. His eyes are on Angel, watching for his reaction. "End her."
Julian moves.
And then Angel is between us. His body blocks mine completely, arms spread wide like a shield.
"No."
The word cracks through the room like thunder.
Lazaro's eyebrows rise. "Excuse me?"
"I said no." Angel's voice is rough and defiant. "You want to kill her, you'll have to kill me too."
Julian hesitates, stake raised. The twins shift forward, but Lazaro holds up a hand, stopping them.
"What a fascinating turn of events." Lazaro's smile returns, his teeth bared like a shark tasting blood. "My newborn son, defying me. For this poor excuse of a woman." He crosses his arms like a disappointed father. "Do you know how I deal with disobedience?"
"I don't give a fuck," Angel snarls. He doesn't move. "You will not lay a finger on her. I'll take whatever punishment you have to give."
"Don't worry, you'll find out soon enough. Just know it hurts me more than it hurts you."
"I'm used to terrible fathers. I'm sure I can take it."
Lazaro studies him for a long moment. Then he laughs—cold and dripping with malice. "Oh, you really are special, aren't you? Even more than I had hoped." He nods to Julian. "Stand down for a moment. Mr. Ruiz is only prolonging the inevitable."
Julian nods and lowers the bow, but he keeps his finger near the trigger.
Angel spins so his back is to the angry mob, then pulls me into his arms and kisses me fiercely.
His fingertips slide up my neck and into my hair, and he presses himself against me like he's trying to create an impression of my body.
It's the kind of kiss that feels like he's saying goodbye, and I don't want it to ever stop.
As his lips crush mine, he moves us both backward—shuffling toward the grate.
His hand finds it above us. I hear the screech of metal as he wrenches it open. I'm already unzipping my jeans to shift as I hear Lazaro's voice cut through the chaos.
"STOP HER!" he screams as Julian's crossbow fires. The bolt whistles past my cheek as I look up into the shaft. Too close. Way too close.
"Shift," he whispers against my lips. "Now, Sophia. Please."
"No, I can't just—"
"You have to." He backs me to the opening, his body still shielding me from Lazaro's view. "Trust me. I'll find you."
"How—"
“Roel. Ronan. Detatch Ms Vijil from my son,” Lazaro barks and the twins edge in unision toward us. Stalking us like a couple of cats trying to catch a bird.
"I'll find you, Sophia. I promise." Angel’s eyes burn into mine. "No matter what. I'll find you."
Tears blur my vision. "I love you."
"I love you too." He nudges me gently toward the darkness of the air vent. "Now go. Don't look back."
I want to fight. Want to stay. Want to drag him out of here with me.
But the others as closing in. Can feel the danger crackling in the air.
So I shift.