Confessions of a Werewolf Supermodel (26 page)

CONFESSION NO. 22

Girls who like to eat are welcome in my club. Vampires who try to eat me are not.

Terry and I sip coffee in a shop that's in a better location than the last one. I still don't see any cops hanging out.

“What did you want to talk to me about?”

Setting my mocha aside, I answer. “It's about the werewolf killer. I've had visions. He's not dead. He's just waiting.”

Terry raises a brow. “Waiting for what?”

I can't meet his eyes. “I don't know.”

Terry is quiet. I feel his steady gaze on my face. “He's waiting for you. Isn't that right, Lou?”

It is right, but if I admit that, Terry is going to be on my ass twenty-four/seven. And not in a good way. I won't be able to talk to vampires or walk around the city with a five o'clock shadow or a midnight beard. “I don't know what he's waiting for,” I lie. “I just want you to be aware that he's still out there.”

“Thanks for the tip.” Terry finishes his coffee. “Now here's one for you. I want you to stay home until we catch this guy. No shopping. No modeling. No chance for this guy to get his hands on you, understand?”

Blinking back at him, I say, “I told you I won't rearrange my life for this creep. He'd like that—thinking he had me so scared I just stay in my apartment and tremble at the thought of going out. He feeds on fear and I'm not so much as tossing him a crumb. Got that?”

Now Terry blinks at me. “I admire your bravery, Lou, but it borders on stupidity. I've seen what this psycho does to women. There's no question now that he's marked you as a target. Do you want to end up dead?”

I can't move past the stupidity remark to consider Terry's questions. Why is it all right for a man to be brave, but if a woman is, she's labeled stupid instead? “I'm finished. I'd like to go home.”

He glances at his watch. “Yeah, I've got to get to Queens and start my stakeout. At least consider what I said. I've seen your place; I think you can give up a few pairs of shoes and do without a paycheck for a while. Better yet, do you have out-of-town relatives you can stay with until we nail this guy?”

Shoes? Does he think that's all I buy with my paycheck? I'm starting to wonder if following Terry tonight in case I need to save his ass is good idea. At the moment, his ass is not worth saving. I rise from the cozy two-top table situated in the back of the coffee shop and gather my beauty bag. “I'm going to Vermont on a modeling shoot at the end of the week. I'll be gone three or four days if that makes you feel better.”

“That's good,” Terry decides, rising also. He puts a hand against my back and steers me to the door. “Try to lay low until then, okay?”

“Sure,” I lie. “Whatever big strong policeman says.”

When he issues a grunt of disapproval behind me, I figure he doesn't appreciate my sarcasm. That's okay. I don't appreciate his macho attitude at the moment, either. I suppress the urge to remind him that I beat him up in bed. The only reason I suppress it is because I might want to beat him up in bed again at some future date.

The ride to my apartment is chilly despite my lustful thoughts, the warm heat blowing from the vents, and the hot coffee sitting in our stomachs. The only comment I make is telling Terry to be careful, before I climb out of his car and go inside my building. I wait until he drives off before asking Ralph to call me a cab. The cabby, unless he's crazy, will not take me all the way to the stakeout point, but as long as he gets me within walking distance that's all right. My beauty bag is packed with the clown jumpsuit I don't mind losing.

I'm nervous. And I'm not feeling all that brave at the moment. I question the sanity of calling a beast forth that I'm unsure I can control. My near-transformation the night I confronted Dog Breath assures me I'll be able to control myself, but the recollection of what happened on prom night still haunts me. Should I experiment when a man I care about is involved? But knowing what I know, can I leave Terry to fend for himself in a neighborhood overrun with vampires?

The cab pulls up outside. I'm torn about my earlier decision. Saying I'm brave and actually being brave are two different things. Then I think of Terry alone on the dark streets, unaware of what he's really up against. I wanted tonight to be an eye-opening experience for him. I don't want it to be a neck-sucking or -slashing experience for him. That decides the matter. I go outside and get in the cab.

*   *   *

By the time I find Terry's El Camino parked along Northern Boulevard, my nerves have taken a beating and my feet hurt. I don't like what I see. Terry is not inside the car. I've already stashed my beauty bag behind some trash in a nearby alley and I'm ready to confront whatever vampires might consider me a late-night snack.

Is Terry out scouting the area, or has he already become a victim? When I draw closer to the El Camino, I notice that the smell of his Brut/axle grease aftershave still lingers in the air. I follow the scent. It leads me five blocks down to an alley where I see Terry lying on the ground and four figures huddled over him.

“Hey!” I shout. “Back off him, bloodsuckers!”

Four palefaces turn toward me. They rise from their bent positions. “Women stupid enough to hang out in this neighborhood after dark either have a death wish, or are looking for a meal,” one of the vampires says. He eyes me up and down. “Go find your own cocktail, this one is ours.”

They think I'm a vampire. By the ache of my teeth, the itch of my skin, and the sting in my fingertips, I can soon assure them that I'm not. “I'm not a bloodsucker,” I say. “If you don't leave him alone, I'm going to kick your asses.”

My statement gets a laugh from all of them. “You and what army, little girl?” the same one who spoke earlier taunts.

“Her and this army.”

I wheel around. Rick and his two buddies stand behind me. I thought they steered clear of this turf. “What are you doing here?”

“Decided to come over and try to reason with these guys about their activities. The cops are going to catch on sooner or later, and it will make things hard for all of us,” Rick answers.

The click of switchblades being opened draws my attention back to the four thugs planning to make a meal out of Terry.

“We don't want to play nice,” one of the fangmen crouching over Terry says. “You three go back to your own turf or die along with these two.”

Shit. I brought everything but my switchblade. I look down at my hands and see claws jutting from my fingertips. Guess I don't need a switchblade after all. I'm not the only one to notice the claws.

“She's a werewolf!” the leader of the bad vampires shouts. “Kill her!” he orders his gang members. “Kill them all!”

I'm not up to speed on gang protocol. I expect them to count to three or something before attacking us. Wrong. I suddenly have a vampire in my face. He slashes out with his knife and barely misses gutting me. It's not that I try to hurt the guy right off, but I bring my hands up to block another knife attack and slash his face open. He must be really hungry because there's not much blood. I think what little he has drains right out. He crumples to the ground.

I glance up to see the leader pulling Terry's head up by the hair. His fangs flash white in the darkness, then he descends toward Terry's neck. In superspeed I rush him. I kick out and land a blow to his face. He stumbles back. Terry's forehead hits the pavement. Hard.

“I'll kill you, bitch,” the leader growls up at me, wiping blood from the corner of his lip. He licks his fingers afterward. Ewww.

He lunges at me. He hits me so hard I fly backward and hit the side of a building, knocking the air from my lungs. About the time I manage to gasp, his hand closes around my throat. He chokes me. My claws slash out at him. Blood spurts from an injury on his neck. It splatters my face and hair. That really pisses me off. It's yucky. The bloodsucker leans in and bites me. It hurts like hell. I'm not the least turned on by it like Rick said women were.

Then I remember something else Rick said. The vampire is about to move in for another bite but suddenly his face pales. He's pretty white anyway. I'm talking the color of milk here. He stumbles back, gagging while holding his throat. He crumples to the ground, jerking and convulsing until he finally lies still. Biting a werewolf killed him. I guess he didn't know that would happen.

Thinking of Rick, I glance toward him. His two friends lie dead on the ground. The other two bloodsuckers have him cornered. Rick's decent, for a vampire. If I don't do something, he'll die. My hands are fur covered. I have the claws and the teeth, now I need the whole package. I think about prom night. I think about Terry and what will happen to him once the vampires have killed Rick. I think about the shadows creeping into the alley. The scent of blood having drawn them.

My face hurts. My whole body hurts. I hear the awful sound of bones crunching—rearranging themselves. My clothes rip. I grow taller … bigger. Then I let out a roar that would scare the dead. And it does. The two vampires huddled over Rick wheel in my direction. Their eyes widen. They leave Rick, hold their switchblades in front of them, and stalk toward me. When one gets within knifing distance, my hairy arm shoots out and knocks him ten feet through the air. The other one flies at me. I swat him as easily as I did the other one.

Suddenly, I'm surrounded. Four more vampires have slunk from the shadows. I lunge forward and attack the one closest to me. This is sickening, even to me, but I tear his throat out. Another comes at me and I rake his face with my claws. Rick jumps into the fray. He handles one vampire while I pick up the other and snap him like a twig. I'm prepared for another attack, but it doesn't come. Rick stands over the body of the vampire he killed. The blood and carnage around me makes me sick.

I'm on all fours. My clothes lie in shreds around me. I'm not cold because I am covered by fur. I look down my face at a long snout. I am a wolf … but am I still me? I think so. I hear my thoughts inside my head. Glancing at Rick, I feel no urge to hurl myself at him and rip his throat out. I watch as he moves to where Terry lies.

“He's unconscious,” he calls toward me, as if it's perfectly normal to converse with a wolf. “I guess we need to get him to a hospital.” Rick scoops up Terry in his arms. “Where's his car?”

I'm afraid to speak. Afraid it will come out like a bark or a howl, or worse, all distorted and creepy sounding like Dog Breath. I have no choice but to do the Lassie thing. I take off, stop and turn to look at him, run back, turn and run a few steps, turn to look at him.

“I get it,” Rick says. “Take me to his car.”

Once we reach the El Camino, Rick digs through Terry's pockets and gets his keys. He unlocks the door and slides him inside the passenger side. I follow him around to the driver side.

“What, you think you're driving?” Rick asks. “Get in the back. I have allergies to animal fur.”

I growl but he ignores me, climbs inside, and slams the door. He starts up the El Camino. I race to the alley where I stashed my clothes, grab the bag in my mouth, and race back and jump in the back of the car.

I've done a lot of things since I came to New York seven years ago. I've done runway, commercials, catalogues, multimillion-dollar advertisements to push every kind of product imaginable. I've never ridden in the back end of an El Camino with the wind in my fur, the moon full above, looking at the world through wolf eyes. It's cool.

I look around, mesmerized by the sights, as if I'm seeing them all for the first time. My senses are sharper than they have ever been. I see, smell, hear, and even feel more than I ever have. It's wonderful until the hair starts flying. Literally. The fur starts coming off. My bones hurt. My face hurts. It's excruciating. By the time Rick pulls into Elmhurst Hospital, I'm naked and shivering. I fumble through my bag to remove the clown suit. Rick pulls into the back of the parking garage where no one wants to park due to the distance to the elevators.

He gets out and catches me squirming around on the freezing metal bed of the El Camino, trying to get the jumpsuit up over my hips.

Rick's eyes about pop out of his head. If they did, it wouldn't surprise me. Not on a night like tonight.

“Whoa,” he says, turning away. “I'm a vampire, not a gelding. Damn, girl, you look like a supermodel.”

“I-I-I a-a-a-m a s-supermodel.”

He turns back around. “No shit? I thought you looked familiar. I've probably seen you on billboards, right?”

“Y-yes.” A few shifts to the right and left and right again later, I pull the jumpsuit up and zip it closed. I'm glad it's wool, even if it's itchy. I pull on boots and hop over the side of the El Camino.

“You'll have to handle it from here,” Rick says. “I can't go in.”

“I'm sorry about your friends.”

He nods. “They knew what they were up against. Those freaks in Queens are ruining things for the decent vampires.”

When I told Terry to look for bite marks, I didn't realize I'd be putting Rick and those like him in danger along with the bloodsuckers killing people. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to alert Terry to the problem. Maybe it's better if the world stays ignorant about the monsters who roam the streets at night. They have enough human monsters to deal with.

“Thanks for your help tonight. I'm not sure what would have happened if you hadn't come along.”

He shrugs. “I think you could have handled it. You are one badass when someone gets your fur up.”

I suppose he considers that a compliment. “See you around,” I say.

Rick walks off into the shadows. I grab my beauty bag from the back and hop into the El Camino. I'll take Terry to the emergency entrance. Then I have to figure out how to explain to him how I just happened along and saved his life tonight.