The Vampire Stalker (5 page)

“You don’t know that,” I shot back. If only Chrissy knew how closely tied to the books the murders were. “But anyway,” I added, “we should all be extra careful. There’s obviously someone dangerous on the loose.”

“Scary.” She said it lightly, but I could tell that the news had affected her. “I’m going to take a shower.” She turned off the TV, and flounced out.

When I turned my head, Alexander was standing there. He had the maps rolled up in his hands like a scroll.

“Your sister is an interesting specimen.” From his tone, I could tell it wasn’t a compliment. Chrissy did have a way of rubbing people the wrong way.

“She’s going through a phase. A
long
phase.”

“Her manners are lacking. So unlike your own.”

“Thanks,” I said, hiding my smile. “Chrissy can get under people’s skin. I try not to let it bother me.”

“Are you successful?”

“Not always. She’s been much worse since my father left.”

“Your father left? Did he go to war?”

I almost laughed. “No, nothing that noble. He left one day after telling my mom he was seeing another woman.”

Alexander whistled under his breath. “What he did is unthinkable. I know of few men who would do such a thing. Women and children should never be without a man to protect and provide for them.”

I bristled, but then realized where Alexander was coming from — literally. “It’s different here. We don’t need a man’s protection. A lot of men, and women, too, leave their families and start new ones. The whole
till death do us part
thing hasn’t been true for a long time.”

Alexander frowned. “It is a bitter pill to swallow.”

“Yeah.”

“Your father appears to be a cad of the first order.”

I knew the word “cad” from the books. It meant jerk.

“He doesn’t think he’s done anything wrong. He says he didn’t mean to fall in love with someone else. Anyway, there’s no point in arguing with him. When I give him a hard time, I don’t hear from him again for weeks.” I was surprised at how natural it felt to confide in Alexander, as if I’d known him for ages.

“That is because of his guilt,” Alexander said thoughtfully.

“Maybe. I wouldn’t know.”

“I
do
know, Amy. Because I have hurt people, and I’ve hated to look them in the eye.”

I knew what he was talking about. “Aunt Helen.”

“Yes. My one regret is the disappointment I caused her. She was a remarkable woman.”

I bit my lip, wondering if he had read the scene in
The Mists
where Helen is on her deathbed. She tells James that she failed in raising Alexander because she had not been able to break his obsession with Vigo and help him build a life for himself. She died with that sadness.

I felt a lump in my throat. I’d cried when Helen passed away. You could feel her warmth and kindness radiating from the pages. Now that I knew Helen had been a real person, it was all the more sad.

“I hope it doesn’t bother you that I know so much about your life,” I said.

Alexander tilted his head to one side. “It irks me that this Elizabeth Howard person has shared so much without my
permission. But I have no problem with you knowing. You have been nothing but generous and forthcoming with me. I am in your debt.”

“No, you’re not. I’m in yours.”

“I will argue the point at another time. Right now, I should sleep.”

“Of course.” He needed to rest if he was going to hunt tonight. I quickly made up the pullout couch for him in the den, then shut the door to give him privacy.

As I went to my room, I wondered how Alexander would ever find Vigo. Though Vigo might not have his favorite hiding spots, he could easily find new ones. My Chicago offered more and better hiding places than the damp, dark cellars and sewers of Otherworld. Here, every major building had a finished basement with artificial lighting. Vigo could hide in comfort in thousands of locations across the city.

If only I could warn the public that the threat was far worse than they knew. Then it occurred to me that there was something I actually could do. I had a description of the killer, didn’t I? I could call Crime Stoppers.

I grabbed my cell phone and dialed.

“This is about the vampire murders.”

“Go ahead,” the female said in a nasal voice.

“I know what the murderer looks like. He attacked me last night, but I got away. He was acting like a vampire.” As much as I
wanted to tell her he was a
real
vampire, there was no way she’d believe me. “He even wears fangs.”

“You say he attacked you, ma’am?”

“Yes.”

“We’d like you to come in and talk to the police immediately.”

“I can’t. I’m … too scared.” I heard my voice waver with real fear. “I’ll tell you what he looks like. That’s all I can do. He has silvery blond hair.” I remembered his description vividly from the books. “He has light blue eyes and really pale skin. Average height, I think. He’s really strong, but you can’t tell by looking at him. He’s very lean.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I hope you’ll reconsider coming in and speaking to investigators. I can guarantee your anonymity. It sounds like you have enough information to be helpful to them.”

“Please, just pass on this information.”

“I will, but we’ve already gotten hundreds of tips on this case, and by the end of the day, we might have thousands. If you don’t feel comfortable speaking to investigators, can you give me more corroborating evidence? In what part of the city did he attack you?”

“The east side. Near Pleasant Park.”

“When was this?”

“Friday night.”

“What time?”

“Around eleven.”

“Okay, ma’am. Thank you for calling Crime Stoppers.”

I snapped the phone shut, taking a deep breath. She probably hadn’t believed a word I’d said. Hundreds of people were likely calling in descriptions of the odd loner down the street or jerk ex-boyfriends.

I felt powerless. I hoped Alexander could catch Vigo, because if he didn’t, the city had no idea what it was in for.

CHAPTER
FIVE

 

S
OUNDLESS, VOICELESS NIGHTMARES ROLLED
from one scenario to another. In the worst one, vampires crowded on the fire escape outside my window, begging me to let them in. And I decided to open the window to talk peace. That’s when they pounced, of course.

I hated when I was stupid in dreams.

Sunday morning. I woke up from a fitful sleep — the type of sleep where I wasn’t sure I’d slept at all. How could I relax knowing Alexander was out there and in danger?

I’d seen him only briefly last night. He’d woken up just before sunset, eaten the leftover casserole Mom had made, then went out into the night. When Mom looked at me questioningly, I told her the same story I’d told Chrissy about his job at the all-night convenience store.

I felt a wave of relief when I saw him on the living room couch. He must have finished
Otherworld
already, because he was reading
The Mists.

“Hi,” I said, smiling. He was so handsome it made my chest tighten.

His mouth curved into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. There was no need to ask how his night of hunting had gone. “Good morning.”

I spotted a newspaper on the table next to him. The headline read: C
OINCIDENCE?
It showed a picture of Friday night’s crime scene alongside a picture of Elizabeth Howard.

“I found this outside your neighbor’s apartment,” he said, handing me the paper. “Astonishing story, isn’t it? The Otherworld phenomenon is so great that the author is being criticized for somehow inciting the killings.”

I sat down beside him and read the article. Chrissy had been right. People
were
connecting the release of
The Mists
with the vampire killings. Some were even calling for the Otherworld books to be banned.

“It is difficult to comprehend,” he said.

I nodded. “Just because Elizabeth Howard writes about vampires doesn’t mean she should be blamed for the killings.”

“I meant the popularity of the series is difficult to understand. The better part of it is romantic drivel. James and Hannah as star-crossed lovers? It insults my sensibilities.”

“It’s different when you’re looking in from the outside. People like melodrama and … romance.”

“Melodrama and romance? Is that why people care about what’s going on in my world?”

“That’s part of it. Personally, your story line of avenging your
family is the one I find most interesting, not James and Hannah’s relationship.”

He scowled. “What he possibly sees in her, I’ll never know.”

“Hey, I’d like to show you something. Come with me.” I went to the den and pressed the button to boot up the computer, then gestured for him to sit down. I pulled up a chair for myself.

He gazed at the computer in fascination. “Is this similar to the one in the living room? With live news reports?”

“No, that’s a TV. A computer is like …” How the heck did I explain a computer? “It’s a machine that holds a lot of information. Almost anything you’d find in a library or newspaper is on here. And it’s also like a typewriter, except you can see the words on the screen instead of on paper.”

“Extraordinary,” he muttered, glancing behind the monitor, as if looking for a projector of some kind.

I typed my log-in and my screen came up. The desktop background was a picture of the cover of
The Mists of Otherworld.

He looked at me. “Do all of these computer machines have this picture on them?”

“No, I put it there myself. You can put whatever picture you want on your computer.”

“I see.”

I reached past him to open a web browser, and my arm accidentally brushed his. Just that bit of contact sent a warm ripple
through me. I heard my heart beating in my ears, probably because I was holding my breath.

My home page was
Otherworlders,
one of the top fan communities. I liked it not only because it had all the latest news about the series, but because it had a fan fiction forum.

Alexander was fascinated. “So you’re saying that when someone else puts on a computer, this is not what appears on their screen.”

“Right. When my sister opens it, she’s at the home page of Metal Mouth, her favorite band. Now, look at this.” I logged on to the main Otherworlder forum.

He looked closely at the screen, glancing from side to side. “What is all this?”

“It’s people talking about the books.” I used the mouse to click on the latest post. “Someone here wanted to talk about the ending of
The Mists,
and almost four hundred people responded in the last few hours.”

“Remarkable. Wait a minute — who is Mrs. Alexander Banks eight thousand and twenty-one?”

Uh-oh. He’d spotted the small icon at the top with my log-in name. I felt my face heat up. “It’s just, uh, a name. Everyone has to log in under a made-up name.”

He turned to me, narrowing his eyes. “Is this
your
made-up name?”

I wished he’d stop looking at me. I knew I was bright red.
“Yes, but it’s just a joke. I mean, there are thousands of other Mrs. Alexander Bankses. That’s why I’m number eight thousand and twenty-one.”

“Hmm.” He seemed puzzled by the whole thing. “I am glad, at least, to see that some readers support my cause. Wait a minute.” He pressed his finger against the screen. “Is that person claiming to be Vigo’s lover?”

He’d spotted a username called
VigosVampLover.

“It’s just a joke, I told you. She doesn’t know Vigo is real.”

“Joke or not, it isn’t funny.”

“Let me show you something else,” I suggested. “It’s called e-mail. Electronic mail. You can send a letter through the computer.”

After I showed him how to send an e-mail, I showed him how to check the weather, the local news, the times of sunrise and sunset. With every new page, his face lit up like a kid on Christmas. He asked question after question, until finally he pushed back from the computer.

“I would love to bring this knowledge back to my world. When the vampires came, almost a hundred years ago, many of our brightest minds fled. Anyone with money fled. It is no wonder we are stuck in the past.” He looked saddened. Then he picked up
The Mists,
which he’d brought with him to the computer. “I can’t believe how many people have read these books.” He flipped to the author photo on the inside back cover, a glamorous shot of
Elizabeth Howard. “It is essential that I speak to the author. Perhaps I could speak to her on the telephone, or we could arrange to meet.”

Contacting the author — of course! It made sense; she might be the only person able to explain how it was possible that Alexander and Vigo existed, and had come to our world. But how would we do it? “It’s not easy to get in touch with someone as famous as her,” I told him. “I’m sure her address and phone number would be unlisted.”

“We must find a way. She may have some insight into finding Vigo. Perhaps she knows where he is right now. And I need to understand how she could possibly know so many details of my life — including my thoughts.”

“Maybe,” I said, my mind racing, “Elizabeth Howard goes through the same portal that you and Vigo came through, and that’s why she knows Otherworld so well. But that doesn’t explain how she’d know her characters’ thoughts.”

“However she does it, it’s totally objectionable. And I intend to tell her so after she has helped me locate Vigo.”

“I’ll check her tour dates. I know she isn’t coming to Chicago until November, but she might be someplace else we can get to.” I turned back to the computer. It took me less than a minute to find the information. “She’ll be signing in New York City next weekend. That’s a long way, but it’s manageable. We could take a bus.”

Alexander nodded. “New York City it is. I am most eager to make Elizabeth Howard’s acquaintance.”

“Can we talk?” Mom poked her head into my bedroom that night, knocking a tune on the door.

“Sure.” I had been trying to do homework for tomorrow, but wasn’t getting anywhere.

Mom came in and sat on my bed. “It’s about Alexander.”

I could tell she was searching for words, so I jumped in. “I know you said a couple of days, but I was hoping he could stay a bit longer. Please, Mom. He’s not any trouble, is he?”

She sighed. “Not to me. But Chrissy isn’t comfortable having a boy around.”

“I don’t buy it, Mom. She hasn’t even given him a chance.” I wasn’t comfortable with Madison around, but I put up with
her.

“I know how Chrissy can be,” she said in a whisper. “But that isn’t the issue. I’m concerned that Alexander needs to figure his life out right now, and we’re not helping him by letting him stay here. He sleeps all day and goes out all night. Then he gets up, eats, and is off again.”

“I told you, that’s because he works nights and is saving up money. It’s not like he’s out partying.”

Mom nodded, but still looked dubious.

“He’s extremely hardworking.” That part, at least, was true. “He’ll pay you back anything you spend on groceries.”

She shook her head. “I’m not concerned about that. I’m more concerned about
you
— that he’s taking advantage of your kindness.”

I couldn’t blame her for coming to that conclusion. “He’s not manipulating us, Mom. He’s just in a rough spot right now. I wish you could understand.”

“Would it help if I talked to his aunt for him? Maybe I could help them patch things up?”

“It’s too late for that. Could he stay just a few more days? I’ll help him look for a room to rent.”

“Does he have money to pay for a room?”

“He has some.” I had about five hundred and fifty dollars, I thought, remembering the bank statement from the ATM the other day. But it wouldn’t stretch very far if it had to cover rent and food.

She patted my hand. “I’ll take a look at the bulletin board at the hospital to see if there are any rooms for rent.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

When she left, I curled my fists in frustration. Not only did Alexander have to worry about hunting Vigo, he’d soon be homeless if I didn’t find him somewhere to stay.

If Mom only knew what Alexander had done for me Friday night, she’d probably let him move in forever. But I couldn’t tell Mom — she’d be horrified if she knew I’d been attacked, even if she didn’t know it was by a vampire. And I couldn’t see any reason to put her through that.

I got up from the bed and went to look out the window. The sun had set, and darkness blanketed the streets except for the glow of streetlights. Alexander was out there looking for Vigo. I wished I could do something, anything, to help him. But here, like in Otherworld, he chose to hunt alone.