Confessions of a Werewolf Supermodel (24 page)

“No,” I answer matter-of-factly. “This guy's a vampire.”

Silence again.

“Terry?”

“You know, I'd think you were full of crap but the tip you gave me about the woman in her car, the one you said was hidden in a wooded area, panned out. I gave the authorities there the information and they found her. Her family was at least glad they had a body to bury. Like you said, it gave them a certain amount of closure.”

“Have the hospital recheck the woman's neck,” I repeat. “And check your files for unsolved murders in Queens where the victims had their throats slit. Those murders are being done by vampires, too.”

“Lou.” Terry groans. “If you're psychic, why do you only see weird shit like this? For your information, I don't have to check my files. I'm aware of several murders in Queens where the victims had their throats slit. We suspect the killings are gang-related executions.”

“Think again,” I say and hang up.

I spend the rest of the afternoon giving myself a facial, a manicure, and a waxing even though I don't need to wax. My agent calls and we go over job offers and details of the Vermont shoot. After I jot down my schedule, I prepare for the evening. I've decided to have a date with vampires.

In case I need to make a transformation, I try to prepare. I remove most of my makeup from my beauty bag, making room for extra clothing. I include a trash bag, as well. My closet is packed full of clothes. A lot of times I get to keep the outfits I model. I sort through them, deciding what I wouldn't mind losing. One outfit I can part with is a black leather jacket and pants that I've always considered a little too catwomanish to actually wear in public.

It's perfect for a late-night meeting with vampires. Now all I have to do is wait for nightfall.

*   *   *

The neighborhood in SoHo is mostly warehouses, but a few run-down apartment buildings are scattered along the streets. The lighting is poor. It's late and most of the apartment windows are dark. A car lumbers my way, the rap music so loud it vibrates the pavement. I figure vampires don't ride around in cars and step into an alley so I won't be seen.

Footsteps click against the pavement at the end of the alley. I can't be lucky enough for whoever's coming to be the three amigos. I'm surprised by who it is. If I'm not mistaken, it's the same woman who was attacked last night. I know it's her, she has a big white bandage on her neck. She spots me and draws up short.

“Don't worry. I won't hurt you,” I call to her.

She stomps toward me. “Get lost, sister. This is my alley.”

What does that mean? She lives in the alley? I know people live on the streets. I glance around looking for a cardboard box or sacks full of belongings. “You live here?”

The woman rolls her eyes. I'm sure she thinks I can't see her reaction in the darkness. “Hell, no, I don't live here. I live down the street. But this is where I meet someone.”

I'm confused. “You got attacked here last night. Why are you back this time of night where it might happen again?”

“Attacked?” she echoes. “What makes you think that?”

The woman was unconscious by the time I pulled the bloodsucker off her. She told Terry she didn't remember anything after the guy grabbed her. “It's why you woke up in the hospital this morning with a bandage around your slashed throat, remember?”

“How do you know this stuff?” she demands.

I reach out and place a hand on her shoulder. “I was here. I'm the one who scared your attacker off.”

She knocks my hand away. “So you're the one who interfered.”

I have the feeling my mouth is opening and closing like a fish out of water. “Interfered?” I finally manage. “I saved your life!”

“Maria, I told you not to come see me for a few days.”

I wheel around. Fangman stands directly behind me. He walks past me and pauses to touch the woman's cheek. “I took too much last night. You need to regain your strength.”

In the moonlight, she stares up at him adoringly, then pouts. “Then you'll get what you need from someone else. You know I'm jealous.”

“You're also married. Go home to your husband.”

Tears sparkle in her eyes. “He can't make me feel the way you do.”

Bring out the violins. I think I'm going to puke. “Excuse me,” I say. “You were screaming. That's why someone called the cops.”

Fangman steers the woman toward the street. “Go home, Maria. I'll explain to the gringo.”

Maria looks me up and down. “Yeah, I know what you'll explain to her. She's pretty. Maybe you want to suck her neck.”

“She's tainted,” Fangman says, curling his lip as he looks at me like I'm liver and onions. “Her blood is no good to me. I'll wait for you, but two days. Promise you will rest for two days before you come back here.”

“You'll be weak if you wait that long to feed,” Maria argues. “Just take a little.” She offers the side of her neck that isn't bandaged.

Fangman shakes his head. “Don't tempt me, Maria. You know your blood is the sweetest to me. Go now.”

With a sigh, Maria walks past him, pausing in front of me to glare. “Leave my man alone,” she mutters under her breath.

I've entered a strange world. And I thought I already lived there. I wait until Maria makes it down the alley and turns the corner before addressing fangman. “What the hell is going on with her?” I ask.

He shrugs. “She loves me. I feed on her. She likes it.”

“Then why was she screaming last night?”

The vampire walks to where I stand. “They were screams of ecstasy, not of fear. I warned her to be quiet but she makes a lot of noise.”

I must have a “HUH?” look on my face. Fangman smiles and says, “If it's done right, a bite from a vampire can be better than sex to a woman. Of course, not all vampires do it right. Some have no regard for human life. They look at humans as they would cattle. A meal. Nothing more.”

“Like those in Queens you told me about last night?”

His lip curls again. “Barbarians,” he spits. “They have lost their humanity. They are thugs, rapists, and murderers. They give the rest of us a bad name.”

Which brings me to the reason I'm in a bad neighborhood dressed like catwoman. “I don't understand what you said to me last night. About being synthetic. Are you saying someone made me what I am?”

“Let's walk,” the vampire suggests. “He or she who stands in one place too long in this neighborhood soon becomes a victim.”

I fall into step beside him. “Why am I tainted to you?”

He laughs, and I would say he looks nice when he smiles, but he still has the fangs. “You are curious now that you understand it can bring you pleasure.”

“Wrong,” I assure him. “I'm not into fang hickeys.”

“The blood of a werewolf, even a synthetic one, can kill a vampire. We need pure human blood.”

I'm still having trouble accepting the existence of vampires, although why that should be is beyond me. “Do you know of a werewolf roaming the city killing women?”

The vampire sighs. He pauses beside a broken streetlamp. “There are many werewolves and vampires. There is an underworld, but like sticks with like. We are not part of your world. We have our own struggles. Our own ways.” He eyes my outfit and adds, “You would not fit in there.”

It's been a while since I felt like part of the “out” crowd. “So you don't have answers for me? You can't point me in the right direction?”

He shakes his head. “No. Synthetics are not allowed in our world. You must be a natural to gain entrance to the underworld.”

Great. Denied access. Besides possibly finding answers about myself in the underworld, maybe it would be nice to be with those who share something in common with me. What am I thinking? I want to rub elbows with monsters?

“You should go,” Fangman says. “I need to feed and you are cramping my style.”

I'm appalled. “You told Maria you wouldn't.”

He shrugs. “What Maria doesn't know won't hurt her. I get hypoglycemic if I don't feed.”

He's just like Cindy. Okay. Not. “Why aren't I turning?” I wonder. “I did last night when I was around you.”

“You thought you were in danger last night,” Fangman says. “It is a trigger for you. For all werewolves, obviously even synthetics.”

“Do you know of other synthetics?”

He frowns. I get the impression he's becoming impatient with me. “I know they exist. Like I told you, I don't mix with werewolves. They have their own place in the underworld, and it is far from ours. We don't usually get along.”

To say I'm disappointed is an understatement. This is the closest I've come to finding someone who might have answers about why I am what I am.

“How do you exist in the world of normal humans?”

Adjusting the skintight catwoman jacket, I answer, “I do what I have to do. I'm not different from everyone else except for the claws and fangs and fur, and those are evidently only triggered by certain factors … or others like me.”

“It has been a long time since I walked in the sunshine. Since I enjoyed being human.”

“So, it really is like the movies? You can't go out during the day?”

He laughs. “No, we can go out during the day. We simply choose not to. Unlike you, our fangs do not retract. We cannot hide what we are the way that you can.”

I guess I could have it worse than I do. “Bummer,” I say.

The vampire suddenly cocks his head and places a finger against his bloodred lips. “Someone is coming. You should go so I can feed.”

My stomach rolls with the thought of what he's about to do. “I'm glad you don't hurt people. But blood. Yuck.”

“It's like a fine wine to me. Now go. You are not welcome in this neighborhood.”

I've been thrown out of a strange world. At least a relatively safe strange world. Deflated, I walk away from the scene of a future crime. I'll head home, or at least to a section of the city where I can hail a cab.

I take a few steps and turn around. “What's your name, Fangman?”

“Rick,” he answers. “What about you, werewolf?”

“Lou,” I answer, then move on.

CONFESSION NO. 21

Denial is a nice place to visit, but living there can cost you your life.

The trip home was strangely uneventful. I was prepared to transform if the need arose. I had my beauty bag packed to stash somewhere so when I turned back into myself, I'd have somewhere to get clothes. And yes, the outfit I packed was an Yves Saint Laurent wool jumpsuit that makes me look like a clown. But I didn't get rid of the outfit and I didn't transform so I might experience what actually happens to me when I go completely werewolf.

I'm aware of the fact I might kill in werewolf form; I did that the only other time I made a transformation. But it was self-defense and I recalled very little about the actual time I spent as a werewolf. I need to know if my thoughts are completely my own. If I'm dangerous to more than someone trying to harm me.

I fish for my keys as I approach my apartment door. When I get ready to stick the key in my lock, I notice the door is slightly ajar. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. Normally finding my door ajar wouldn't bother me. Cindy's the worst about coming in and making herself at home. But Cindy is in Texas. No one else has a key.

I push the door open. The apartment is dark like I left it. A noise comes from the kitchen. My heart rises in my throat. I grip my beauty bag tighter, prepared to use it as a weapon if I need to bash someone over the head. Then I move toward the kitchen. Whoever's in there isn't quiet. I hear the fridge open and close—the rustle of a paper bag. Lifting my beauty bag higher, I enter the kitchen.

A dark shadow digs in a bag sitting on the bar. I sneak up behind them, bag held high. The shadow turns, bumps into me, and screams. I scream, too.

It quickly dawns on me that it must be a vampire come to kill me for knowing too much. Dog Breath would not scream.

“Who are you and what the hell are you doing in my apartment?”

“It's Natasha,” she gasps. “Cindy gave me the key to your apartment. She said I could ask you for the spare to hers, but I couldn't get a hold of you.”

Natasha? Why would Cindy give someone I don't like the key to my apartment, especially considering I'm not always at my best and shouldn't be barged in upon? And why would Natasha need the key to Cindy's place? I walk over and switch on the light. It's Natasha Somethingorother, all right. Then I notice the suitcase sitting at her feet.

“What's going on?”

Natasha places a hand to her heart. “My apartment is being fumigated. I mentioned this to Cindy and she said I could stay at her place while she is out of town. She gave me the key to your apartment and told me to contact you and ask for the spare key to hers. I couldn't reach you and I have these groceries that would ruin.”

As much as I miss Cindy, I could clobber her at the moment. Just what I need, broad shoulders living next door. “Nice of her to mention that to me,” I mutter. “How'd you get past Ralph, anyway?”

“Cindy told both doormen that I would be staying at her apartment for a few days. I just had to show identification.”

Sighing, I place my beauty bag on the counter. I remove Cindy's spare key from my key ring. When I hand it to Natasha, she says, “Cindy said you might want to go over and tidy up before I see her apartment. I told her it didn't matter to me, but she insisted.”

The monitor. She wants me to get rid of it, which is a good idea. If Natasha switches it on, she's going to hear me in my bedroom and wonder what the deal is. “I'll be right back,” I say. “You can repack your grocery bag.”

Taking my beauty bag to stash the monitor, I leave the apartment and go next door. Cindy is a messy person. I grab a few clothes she's left lying around and put them in her bathroom hamper. I'm not making her bed. She should have told me about Natasha coming to stay at her place. But then I would have probably pitched a fit and told her I didn't want her here. I unplug the monitor and stick it in my beauty bag and return to my apartment.