The Vampire Stalker (3 page)

“I have every intention of killing him before he can do so,” he said, following me inside.

His sharp tone unsettled me. Was this guy a vigilante or something? I’d leave that to the police to find out.

I took out my cell phone and turned it on.

“What is
that?”

“A cell phone,” I said slowly, wondering what this guy’s deal was. A chill crept down my spine. Maybe I shouldn’t have allowed him inside my building.

“Do you mean a telephone? That is very odd, Miss … Forgive me, I did not catch your name.”

“Amy Hawthorne,” I replied automatically.

“I am Alexander Banks.” He bowed. “At your service.”

CHAPTER
THREE

 

I
STARED AT HIM
for a few seconds, stunned by his pitch-perfect performance. Then I started to laugh. I couldn’t help it.

This guy had
deliberately
done himself up to resemble Alexander Banks. The windswept hair was one thing — lots of guys were adopting that style these days to get girls’ attention. But the whole outfit, including the coat and high leather boots … it was an Alexander Banks costume.

Leave it to me to be rescued by some Otherworld-obsessed weirdo.

“What is so humorous?” he demanded, arching a dark eyebrow.

“You look a lot like him; I’ll give you that.”

“A lot like whom?”

“You know, Alexander Banks from the Otherworld books.”

He looked puzzled. “I do not know what books you speak of. In any case, I must be off to the Byward District to see if I can pick up his trail. Do you know, perchance, how I can get there from here?”

The Byward District. It was the notorious area of Otherworld Chicago where the vampires congregated at night before prowling the city in search of prey.

I didn’t know why he felt he had to continue the joke. I felt an uneasy twist in my stomach. Something was definitely off about this guy. “I’m sorry, but I’m not into the role-playing thing. I’m a fan of the books, too, but I need to deal with the police right now.” I turned to walk to the elevator.

“You will offer me no help?” he asked.

I looked back at him again. Seeing the intensity in his eyes, I felt a frisson of fear. “My mother’s waiting for me upstairs and could be down any second. And there’s a security camera over there.” I pointed to it, perched above the mirror to our right. I caught a glimpse of myself and the Alexander look-alike looming in front of me.

He seemed confused. “Only minutes ago, I saved your life, and now you act as if I am threatening it?”

“That man wasn’t necessarily going to …”

“Vigo Skaar never leaves his victims alive.”

Something stilled inside me.

No, this is ridiculous. He’s just trying to freak you out.

And it was working.

“Vigo’s just a character in a book, okay?” I stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the third floor, but jumped back when a booted foot lodged itself in the door. It automatically reopened.

“Not so fast.” His dark eyes were penetrating. “Not until you explain why you doubt who I am.”

I stepped out of the elevator right away. This guy was getting scarier by the minute, and I’d always had a fear of being cornered in an elevator. At least in the lobby, someone might come in. And the threat of the security camera might make him think twice if he had any intention of hurting me.

“Why don’t we sit down,” he said. It was clearly not a question.

When he took my arm, I didn’t resist. I let him walk me over to the sagging chintz couch. He sat down next to me.

“I would like to know why you do not believe what I’m telling you.”

I inched away from him as subtly as I could. “I don’t know what to say. I told you I just want to call the police.”

“And I told
you,
the police are ineffective. Rather than patrolling the streets at night, they adhere to the curfew. They are not qualified to take on Vigo and his coven. This cannot be news to you.”

He genuinely seemed to believe what he was saying, which only left one option: He was crazy. I didn’t see any choice but to play along. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Anyway, if you want to get to the Byward District, it’s just, uh, a couple of miles north of here. Turn left at the stop sign half a block down, and keep walking.”

“Thank you for the directions.”

He stood up, and so did I. I was hoping that he would head for the door, but he didn’t move. His next words were very measured. “You keep referring to these books. Please tell me why.”

I sighed and glanced back at the waiting elevator. “Alexander Banks is a character in the Otherworld books.”
As if you didn’t know that.

“And what role do I supposedly play in these books?”

“You’re James’s cousin. The vampire stalker.”

He considered that. “I am aware of my actions being reported in the
Daily Sentinel,
but not in any books. Whatever these volumes say, I assure you they are entirely unauthorized. I am the real Alexander Banks. I give you my word.”

“Okay. You’re Alexander Banks.”

His nostrils flared. “You clearly do not believe me. How can I prove who I am?”

He probably expected me to quiz him on the books, but that wouldn’t prove anything. If he was this much of a fan, he probably knew them even better than I did.

And then something occurred to me. I could end this, here and now.

“You could stick out your tongue.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Alexander Banks can’t drink anything too sweet or tart because his tongue got slashed by a vampire’s blade. If you show me the scar on your tongue, I’ll believe you.”

“Very well.” He stuck out his tongue.

I gasped. There it was: a deep scar down the bottom half of his tongue. I was speechless.

He wasn’t supposed to be able to prove that he was Alexander. What was I supposed to do now? Believe him?

He didn’t stop there. “I have several other scars that may reinforce the verdict.” He pushed back his coat and unbuttoned his shirt to reveal a circular white scar beneath his collarbone. I felt myself blush, despite my fear and frustration.

“James and I were nine, fencing with tree branches. He impaled me. I almost bled to death.”

I nodded dumbly. The story was in
Otherworld.
It had been a terrifying experience for both boys, but it had brought them closer, making them more like brothers than cousins.

He began to roll up one of his sleeves. His forearm was muscular, and that made me blush, too. “I also have —”

“It’s okay. I — I believe you.”

The world was shifting around me. What choice did I have but to believe his wild story? It could be that he was crazy enough to mutilate himself in order to be Alexander. But the scars looked too old for him to have made them since the books came out.

Did that really mean, then …?

Was this guy actually …?

I closed my eyes for a second, trying to take it all in. When I
opened them, Alexander was still there, life-size and three-dimensional. Despite the wariness in his eyes, he looked slightly younger than I’d pictured him. He was, after all, only a couple of months shy of nineteen.

“I just don’t understand,” I said. “How could you
be
the Alexander Banks from the books?”

“I have absolutely no idea. Which is why I must see these books you speak of. But first, please, tell me where I am. I know this city as well as I know the lines in my own palm, but I must have chased Vigo farther than I thought.”

Vigo.

No. No way. Vigo could not be here. He could not have attacked me.

But then I had a flash of memory of silver-blond hair and a low growling. I shivered violently.

“Are you well, miss?”

“Not if you’re saying the guy who jumped me was actually Vigo.”

“Indeed, it was.”

I couldn’t tell who was more confused right now, me or Alexander. “Okay. I have to show you. The books, I mean. I think you’d better come up to my apartment … Alexander.”

Saying his name was so strange. I’d said it so many times before, thought it more times than I could count. But I’d never expected I would say it to his face. In my dazed mind, it struck
me that my greatest dream had come true: Alexander Banks was here. In my Chicago.

But so had my worst nightmare: Vigo was, too.

“Mom, this is my friend, Alexander. Alexander, Mom.” I’d never imagined that Alexander Banks would be the first boy I brought home, but here he was in my living room.

Mom looked at me, then at Alexander, then at me. It didn’t take a psychic to read her mind.
Who is he and why are you bringing him over at eleven thirty at night?

“Nice to meet you, Alexander.” She managed a smile, and self-consciously touched her hair, which was pulled back in an untidy ponytail. I could tell she was embarrassed to be meeting a guest in her Friday night sweats.

“Likewise.” He didn’t bow; I’d told him not to on the elevator ride up. I’d also told him to let me do all the talking.

“I’m going to get us something to eat, okay, Mom?”

“There’s leftover shepherd’s pie in the fridge. It’s at the back. Here, I’ll show you.”

“Have a seat,” I told Alexander. He sat down on the couch, riveted by the TV, which was playing a sitcom. He glanced at me with an astonished expression, but I shook my head. The last thing I needed was for my mom to hear him ask what a TV was.

In the kitchen, Mom looked at me expectantly.

“He’s Luisa’s brother’s friend,” I said, turning on the faucet and pouring two glasses of water. I hated lying to my mom, and
preferred not to look her in the eye while I was doing it. “He needs a place to stay. I haven’t asked him yet, but I was wondering if he could stay here for a couple of days.”

“How come I haven’t heard about him?”

I shrugged. “There was nothing to say. We weren’t that close or anything. Where’s the shepherd’s pie?”

“Right here.” She bent into the fridge and removed a glass dish covered in tinfoil. “Are you dating him?”

“No, it’s not like that,” I said quickly. “We’re just friends.”

A knowing look flickered in Mom’s eyes. She could tell already that I had a crush on him. I waited for her to ask me flat out, but instead she said, “What about his parents?”

“They passed away a few years ago. He was living with his aunt, but they weren’t getting along.”

I was relieved to be able to tell the truth about that, at least. Alexander had lived with James’s parents since he was orphaned. His aunt Helen had been troubled by Alexander’s quest for vengeance, and when she persisted in trying to get him to abandon it, he cut her out of his life. She had passed away in
The Mists,
heartbroken that she couldn’t turn him around.

“Why’s he dressed like that?”

“He’s an Otherworld fan, too. Some people at the dance were dressing up.”

She smiled. “A boy who’s an Otherworld fan? I’m sure you have a lot in common.”

“Pretty much.”

“I’ll trust your judgment on this, Amy. He can stay for a couple of days.”

“Thanks.” I hugged her.

Mom always trusted my judgment; I’d never given her any reason not to. Unlike Chrissy,
I
was always responsible, reliable, and honest — until tonight, anyway. But I couldn’t possibly tell her the truth about Alexander. If I did, she’d send both of us for mental evaluations.

I warmed the shepherd’s pie in the microwave and brought it to Alexander along with a glass of water. He downed them fast. Mom said good night and headed off down the hall, then poked her head in a minute later to remind me to get clean sheets and towels for our guest.

Once she left again, Alexander looked at me. “Shall I take that for an offer of hospitality?”

“My mom said you could stay for a couple of days. I didn’t tell her who you really are.”

“I’d have thought my reputation would recommend me. If she reads the
Daily Sentinel,
she might well have heard of me.”

“There is no
Daily Sentinel
here.”

His brows furrowed. “Are we not in Chicago?”

“We’re in Chicago, just not
your
Chicago. I don’t know how, but you’re not in Otherworld anymore.”

“What is Otherworld?”

I hesitated. “It’s the place in the books. What I’m saying is, you’re not in
your
world anymore.”

He appeared to mull this over. “Then where am I?”

“I don’t know.
Here.”
I wished I could make him understand it, but I didn’t understand it myself. “A place without vampires.”

“You must be mistaken. You were clearly attacked by —”

“I know. But I don’t know how he got here, or how you got here. Hold on a second. Let me get the books for you.”

I went to my bedroom, scooped them off my bedside table, and brought them back.

He took both hardcovers into his hands, staring at the pictures on the book jackets. “Good heavens, that’s me! And James! And
her.”
Alexander had always been dead set against James’s relationship with Hannah. He didn’t believe humans and vampires should mix, much less fall in love.

He opened
Otherworld,
flipping through the pages. I sat down beside him, making sure we weren’t sitting too close together. Then I showed him a section midway through the book that took place from his point of view.

“Astounding,” he muttered.

He studied the books for a while, occasionally making a shocked exclamation. And
I
studied him in a daze, trying to make sense of the fact that Alexander Banks was here beside me. In my
living room.
On my
couch.
I thought about touching him to make sure he was real, but I wouldn’t dare. Just the thought made my face flame.

Could this be a trick of some kind, an elaborate hoax set up to dupe an Otherworld fan for a reality TV show? I could
see Luisa and Katie nominating me for something like that. Maybe there were hidden cameras outside, and even here in the apartment. I glanced around, seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

Besides, the attack had been too violent to have been staged. Any producers would know that I could’ve gotten seriously hurt and sued the pants off them. And my mom would never have played along with a stunt like that.

My gut said that Alexander was the real thing. I would just have to trust my instincts — until I had evidence to prove otherwise.

Eventually, Alexander put the books aside and sank back into the couch, raking a hand through his dark hair. “I don’t know what to make of it.”

“I don’t, either. Maybe you chased Vigo through a portal of some kind.”

“A portal? In my world, portals are the stuff of fiction.”

“Here, too. But there must be some reason that you started off chasing Vigo in Otherworld Chicago, and you ended up chasing him here in the real Chicago.”