Confessions of a Werewolf Supermodel (23 page)

He finally smiles. His teeth flash in the darkness. “I don't trust myself, Kinipski. My ribs are healing up pretty good. Getting beat up by a girl isn't always a bad thing.”

I laugh and close the door. “Let's go have coffee.”

*   *   *

An hour and three cups of coffee later, I'm so wired I won't be sleeping anytime soon. Terry and I keep the conversation light. I don't tell him about my earlier suspicions that I smelled Dog Breath in Freddie Z's. I'm not sure I did smell him. I know for sure I don't want to explain my abnormal sense of smell.

Terry's curious about my background so I do some more lying to him. I tell him I grew up in a small town in Texas close to Dallas. There are a hundred small towns in Texas close to Dallas. I tell him a couple of funny stories about me and Cindy growing up. Mostly, I let him do the talking. Despite the caffeine pumping through his veins, Terry yawns.

“Guess we'd better get going. I have to be in early tomorrow.”

He pays the bill and we leave, climbing into the El Camino parked in front of an all-night diner. No one seemed to recognize him at the diner. He didn't take me to a cop hangout and I know they have them. If he's ashamed of me he has standards so high he's never going to find a woman. I think more probably, he just doesn't want to be razzed for spending time with a supermodel. Or maybe a professed psychic. Neither are probably people he had a high opinion of in the past. I think I'm changing his mind.

As soon as Terry fires up the engine, his police radio goes off. The dispatcher reports a 242 in progress in the vicinity of Canal Street in SoHo. A caller reports screams coming from the vicinity.

“What's a 242?” I ask him.

“Assault.” He picks up the receiver. “This is Detective Terry Shay, I'm in the vicinity and will proceed to the location.”

“Use caution, Detective. Backup is on the way.”

He glances at me. “Get out and go wait for me in the diner. Stay inside.”

I don't want to sit in the diner and wait for no telling how long for him to come back. “Just take me with you. I'll stay in the car.”

He gives me a look. We both know what happened last time I stayed in his car alone. “No civilians are allowed with me on a code call. Go, Lou, it's just a couple of streets over and I'm wasting time.”

Being stubborn may cost someone their life. “I'll call a cab,” I tell him. “Go do your cop thing.”

I climb out. Terry peels away from the curb. I stand outside watching his taillights. He turns on the next corner. I'm about to go back inside and call a cab when I hear it. A woman's scream.

My hearing is so much more acute than the average person's; I imagine the scream could have come from as far as two streets over. I also imagine I can follow the screams and locate the victim before Terry can. A few minutes might mean the difference between life and death for the woman.

I'm not wearing my running shoes, but I take off. As usual, the ten-pound beauty bag is slung over one shoulder. It must be the reason I have such freakish upper-body strength … that and the fact I'm a werewolf.

The neighborhood is deserted. I'm not scared. Dog Breath scares me because he's a freak like me. A normal man assaulting a woman I'm not afraid of. I think I can take him. I round one corner and charge down the street to the next. Ahead, I see Terry's taillights, moving slowly. He shines a spotlight out his window down the alleyways. I close my eyes and listen.

I hear a muffled scream. Terry has passed them. I lunge across the street into an alleyway. Nothing is noticeable except the usual Dumpsters and trash bags stacked everywhere. I know how Terry missed the attack. Heavy breathing sounds from behind the third Dumpster on the right. I move toward the Dumpster. The strange sound of a sucking noise reaches me. What the hell is this guy doing to the woman?

I'd call out, but that would give him the advantage of knowing I'm here. He might be armed. Instead I creep up on him. Attacker and victim are huddled on the ground next to the Dumpster. I reach out, grab the back of the guy's coat, and haul him off her. He turns to face me and I nearly pee my pants. Blood runs in two streaks down the sides of his mouth. His face is deathly pale in the darkness.

“Oh, shit,” I say.

His smile reveals long white fangs. The man whips a knife from his coat pocket. I take a step back. He quickly bends beside the woman and slashes her neck. Instincts take over and I lunge at him. He's strong, but I'm stronger. This surprises him. His dark eyes widen when I shove him against the brick wall of a building. He bares the fangs at me again. I growl in response. The knife in his hand slices past my face, barely missing me. When he lifts it again, I grab his hand and pin it against the building. I notice that I now have claws. He notices the same thing.

“Who are you?” he hisses at me.

“I'm your worst nightmare,” I answer, and I feel the change coming over me. It's a survival instinct, I realize. Anytime I'm in danger, this is what will happen. Just like it happened on prom night. I had never been attacked or felt as if I were in danger before that night. Maybe the werewolf side of me had been dormant all my life, and it only took one traumatic event to release it.

The woman moans, distracting me. At least I know she's alive. The fanged creep uses the distraction to shove me away. He runs. I'm torn between helping the woman and going after him. Then I hear Terry's truck lumbering toward the alleyway. He's going to shine that big spotlight on me in a minute. I bend and pull the woman from behind the Dumpster where he'll be able to spot her, then I run like hell.

Punching it into superspeed, I'm at the end of the alley in about ten seconds flat. I'm not sure which way to go. Do I just run, or do I go after Fangman? I catch the scent of blood to the left. Fangman. Is he really a vampire or a pervert who likes to wear fake fangs and bite women? What the hell. I might as well find out. I go left.

I question my decision two blocks later when I catch up with Fangman. He isn't alone. There are now two other fangmen with him.

“That's her,” he says to the others. “She's a synthetic. I can tell by the smell of her.”

Synthetic? Is that another word for “werewolf”? “What do you mean by that?” I demand.

One of the fangmen laughs. “She doesn't know what she is.”

I lift my hand, claws extended. “I know what I am,” I correct him. “I just don't know why.”

“Because you were made that way, baby,” the fangman I chased says. “You're an unnatural.”

I take offense. “More unnatural than you?”

All three move closer to me. “We're natural monsters. Made by another of our kind. You were created by science.”

Is this a bunch of shit? Are they trying to distract me with conversation so they can bite me? Is this even happening? Am I at home dreaming?

“Weres, synthetic or natural, are not welcome on our turf. Understand?” the fangman says.

Is he insinuating there are others besides me and Dog Breath? If I'm not dreaming, this is too bizarre for even a werewolf supermodel to handle.

“Cops are scouting the area,” one of the fangmen warns. “We'd better find cover.”

I'm thankful for the tip. It wouldn't do for one cop in particular to come across me. Especially not in the condition I'm in. But I have more questions, and some strong advice.

“You shouldn't kill women,” I inform the group. “I don't like that. I might come back and bite your balls off if you do that. You do have balls, don't you?”

One of the palefaces grabs his crotch. “Yeah, we got balls. We got big balls. And for the record, we don't kill our victims if we can help it. We give them a little throat slash to hide the bite marks and they go on their merry way. Now, you end up in Queens and it's a different story.”

There are vampires in Queens? There are vampires period? My cell rings. The sound startles me. I glance at my beauty bag, and when I glance back up, the fangmen are gone. I stare into the shadows, wondering if I'm delusional and if I ever saw them to begin with. The phone keeps ringing. I fumble in my bag, having trouble grasping the phone while wearing claws.

“Hello,” I say.

“Lou, you made it home okay, right?”

“I'm home,” I lie to Terry. I'm a couple of streets over and in shock from having just conversed with three vampires. “Did you find the woman?”

“Yeah, she's okay. A superficial knife wound to the throat. My spotlight must have chased the attacker away. The woman says she doesn't remember a thing after the guy grabbed her. Shock. We get that a lot with victims.”

“I'm glad she's all right.”

“Why are you talking funny?”

Damn fangs. I hope they retract soon. “I'm doing a whitening treatment. I have something in my mouth.”

“Oh. Guess I'll go so I can wrap up here and catch a couple of hours' sleep before I go in. Night, Lou.”

“Night, Terry.”

But I hope I'm already asleep.

CONFESSION NO. 20

I figure about ninety percent of the people in America don't live in the “real world.” I wish I were one of them.

The phone wakes me. I turn over in bed to reach for it, glance up, and see Dog Breath standing over me. I scream. Then I wake up. The phone really is ringing. I grab it and answer.

“Lou, are you all right? Why didn't you return any of my calls last night?”

It's good to hear Cindy's voice. I was so wiped out and freaked out when I got home last night, I went straight to the shower and then to bed. “Long night,” I answer. “Weird night,” I clarify. “I didn't get in until late. Real late.”

“Well, I was worried about you,” Cindy grouses. “You never stay out late, at least not unless I'm with you. Where were you?”

Is Cindy ready to learn the city is overrun with bloodsucking fiends? I think she has enough on her plate at the moment. “I went out with Karen. We went to Freddie Z's so I could tell Morgan he needs to look for the Billingtons as well as my birth parents. We stayed out late.”

“How is Karen?”

I know Cindy is having a jealous moment. Friends do, there's nothing weird about it. “She's fine. Not nearly as fun to hang out with as you. What happened with your folks? Did your mom tell your dad, and where are you staying?”

“Mom didn't get up the nerve. We're staying at a hotel in Grapevine. Mom's coming in to have lunch and do some shopping with us. I guess it's okay. Not sure I'm really ready to introduce Dad to my girlfriend.”

My nose itches and I scratch, hoping I don't find a mustache under my lip. I don't. “So are you still staying until we're supposed to meet up in Vermont?”

“Yeah, Mom wants me to stay as long as I can. She says we have a lot of catching up to do. My friend can't stay that long, so I figure when she goes home Mom and I can work on a meeting with Dad. I got some stuff for you, by the way. Not much, but some photos and stuff from school I thought you'd want.”

“Thanks. I appreciate what you've done for me, Cindy.”

For the first time in our lives, Cindy and I seem at a loss for words. I want to tell her about the fangmen just to turn her back into the motormouth I know and love.

“Guess I'd better go, Lou,” Cindy finally says. “Mom will be here shortly to pick us up. I'll call you in a couple of days.”

“Okay. Talk to you later.”

She hangs up.

I'm glad Cindy has something to do. I have nothing to do but think about my weird night. I remember I'm supposed to leave information about the Billingtons on Morgan's machine. Bad thing is, I don't have much information about them. Neither talked about their lives before Haven and me. I do remember Norma saying she grew up in California. I saw something one time in the papers they kept in a metal box with the name Norma Ford on it.

I'll start there. My understanding was that neither Clive nor Norma had any family left. Either that or they were estranged from their family members; they never bothered to explain which it was.

I call Morgan and leave him what little information I have. He's got to earn his money. No matter how hard I try, I can't get the vampires out of my head. I'd like to pretend last night was just a dream, but I know it wasn't. So what do I do with this strange knowledge that I acquired last night? I can't very well share it with Terry. He'll think I'm crazy. Then I wonder which he would find more repulsive. A werewolf or a vampire?

Taking my thoughts a step further, I wonder whether Terry would be more open to the possibility of werewolves if he were forced to accept the existence of vampires? Real werewolves, of which I am supposedly not one. Synthetic? What the hell did they mean? I have to set Terry on the path of enlightenment, even if my motives are purely selfish. If he discovered for himself that, like in all cultures, there are good and bad, maybe he can learn to accept me for who I really am.

Maybe the fangmen were putting me on. Should I venture onto their turf and find out? Maybe they'd be willing to give me more information. If not, and things get ugly, I will turn wolfy again. I still haven't managed a complete transformation since prom night. If I'm going to do it again, I'd like to be prepared. Before I do anything, I need to call Terry. He has trouble accepting psychics? I'll see how he does with vampires. I pick up the phone and dial his number.

“Yeah.” His standard answer.

“Terry, it's Lou. I need to tell you about a vision I had concerning the woman who was attacked in the alley last night.”

Silence. He's still creeped out by the psychic stuff.

“Okay,” he finally says.

“Have the wound to her neck rechecked. I think they'll find bite marks.”

Another pause. “Are you saying this case is related to the other cases? The serial killer who thinks he's a werewolf?”