The Vampire Stalker (7 page)

I was momentarily fazed. Was she humoring me, or was she actually taking this seriously? “He has Alexander’s scars, including the one on his tongue. It looks like someone tried to cut his
tongue off, and it’s not the type of thing you can fake. And there’s something else. Friday night, when I got off the bus, I was attacked. Alexander saved my life. It was Vigo who attacked me.”

Her hand flew to her mouth. She looked horrified — too horrified to be humoring me. I should be glad that she believed me, but I wasn’t. What I wanted was to hear her explain why none of this was real. Why Vigo couldn’t possibly be here in Chicago killing innocent people.

“How do you know it was Vigo?”

“I caught a glimpse of his hair. And he made this strange growling sound. It had to be a vampire, because I got carried across the park in a second or two.” It felt like the words were coming from somewhere else, a calm place outside of myself where I could talk about the attack without freaking out.

Ms. P. frowned. “And those two boys who were killed — that was Vigo.” It was more a statement than a question.

“Yes. Alexander knows for a fact that Vigo is here. He chased him across the Michigan Avenue Bridge, and they ended up in our Chicago.” I held my breath, still hoping that Ms. P. would say something to explain all of this away.

She was silent for a long time. “I told you that I did some graduate work, didn’t I?”

I was startled by the change of topic. “You got a master’s in physics.”

“I might not have told you that I actually spent four years working on a PhD, but was asked to leave the program.”

“No, you didn’t mention that.”

“I was asked to leave because my studies took me into an area of research that academia wasn’t ready for. An area that
I
wasn’t ready for, but one that compelled me, nonetheless: literary physics.”

“Literary
physics?”

“That’s what I called it. I started out studying string theory, which is widely respected. String theory tells us that several dimensions coexist simultaneously. And I asked myself if it were possible for someone in our dimension to tap into what’s going on in another one. Then I realized that it may, in fact, already be happening — in our literature.”

I was trying hard to follow her. “Wait a second. You’re saying that books are showing us what’s going on in different dimensions? They’re not really fiction?”

“Not
all
books. Very few, most likely. But haven’t you read books that are labeled fiction, but have characters so real that you wondered if they might exist?”

“That’s how
Otherworld
made me feel. That’s how it made everyone feel.”

“Exactly.”

There was a noise outside, and we glanced toward the library doors. A harried teacher came in, corralling her students and barking at them to keep their voices down.

“Unfortunately, I have a library lesson this period,” Ms. P. said, putting her glasses back on. “We’ll continue this later. Can you and Alexander come over for dinner tonight?”

“I think so,” I managed to reply.

Although I was dying to know more, I stood up. It would be better to continue the discussion with Alexander there, anyway.

Literary physics.
It sounded crazy, but I knew Ms. P., and she was anything but.

CHAPTER
SEVEN

 

A
FEW MINUTES BEFORE
sunset, I knocked on the door to the den.

“Enter,” he called.

I found Alexander sitting on the couch, already dressed and pulling on his socks. He tidied his hair with several well-placed rakes of his hand.

“You’re up already?”

“I’ve trained my body to wake like clockwork at sunset.”

“I hope you slept well.”

He shrugged, not meeting my eyes. “Well enough.”

I knew that Alexander was plagued by nightmares, and I’d bet he had just had one.

“On Sunday, I had a nightmare about vampires on my fire escape,” I said, sitting down next to him. “In the dream, I actually let them in.”

“The world of dreams is troubling that way.” A haunted look flashed in his eyes. “You have no control.”

He didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t push him.

“Ms. Parker, the school librarian I introduced you to,
knows who you are,” I told him. “She overheard us. Turns out there are cameras and audio in the study room. Creepy, I know. Like
1984.”

“What happened in nineteen eighty-four?”

I kept forgetting there was so much Alexander didn’t know. “It’s the title of a book I read in English class last year. It’s about the government using technology to watch everything people do.”

“You don’t think you are in the book
1984,
do you, Amy?”

“No! You’re the one from a book, not me.”

“I was teasing you.” A smile flashed across his handsome face.

“Oh.” In the books, Alexander had only joked with his cousin James, and that was rare enough. “I guess I’m a little too on edge to get a joke. The whole situation scares me,” I confessed.

“Good. Fear is a useful emotion for most people. It can save your life. Remember that.”

“What about you? Is it a useful emotion for you?”

“Fear only saves your life if you’re willing to run from your enemy.” The haunted look returned to his eyes. “I ran from Vigo once, and I will never do so again.”

“You were six years old.”

“Yes. Logically I know that I was too young to do anything else.”

Logically.
But I bet that, deep down, Alexander still wondered if there was something he could have done to save his family.

His despair was palpable, and I was tempted to reach over and touch his hand, but I held back.

“You were saying, about the librarian knowing who I am,” he prompted.

“Right. I told her what happened, and she believed me. It turns out she always thought something like this was possible.”

“Indeed?”

“Yes. And she can help us make sense of it. We’re going to her place for dinner. She’s picking us up at seven.” When I’d told Mom that Alexander and I were going to Ms. P.’s for dinner, she was pleased. She must have thought that Ms. P.'s good influence would lead Alexander to pursue college or something.

“All right, but I cannot stay long. My duty is to find Vigo before he kills again.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll keep the visit short. You need to eat, anyway.”

“Very well. I will defer to you on this occasion.”

I had to smile. Alexander Banks deferring to me? Who’d have thought?

Fifteen minutes later, Ms. P. pulled up in her blue Honda Civic. I got into the front seat, and Alexander got into the back. “Nice to see you again, Alexander,” Ms. P. said, turning onto the road.

“Likewise, Ms. Parker.”

“Amy tells me you’ve come to us from Otherworld Chicago.” She used the same conversational tone you’d expect from someone asking about your day.

“It seems so,” he replied. “We don’t call it Otherworld, but it is indeed the place depicted in the books.”

“Do you find the books accurate, then, in their portrayal of your world and its people?”

“Mostly, yes.”

“Mostly?”
I turned back to look at him, not knowing what he was talking about.

“Elizabeth Howard’s reports on events in my world are undoubtedly true. But she makes some character judgments that I do not agree with.”

“Are you referring to the way she portrays you?” Ms. P. asked, glancing at him in the rearview mirror.

“Yes.” He shifted slightly in his seat, a clue that he was uncomfortable with the topic. “Although she does not say it outright, she clearly paints my character as misguided. A troubled soul bent on revenge. And, if you really want to know, I despise the way she portrays the courtship between my cousin James and that
thing,
Hannah. She describes it with such …”

“Understanding?” Ms. P. offered.

“Precisely! She obviously wants the reader to cheer for them. And she makes Hannah sound like — like a normal person.”

“Just because she’s a vampire doesn’t mean she’s evil, right?” I said. “There are some vampires who are working for peace.”

Alexander scoffed. “The vast majority of them would sooner drink your blood than work for peace.”

“Do you have any idea how Elizabeth Howard knows so much about your world, Alexander?” Ms. P. asked.

“No. Amy said you have some ideas on what is happening.”

“I do.” She drove into her driveway. “See? Here already. Let’s get a bite to eat and talk more.”

We followed her inside. Ms. P.’s home was as charming and warm as she was. I’d been here a few times before, since she had Katie, Luisa, and me over for dinner whenever we stayed late to help with the library inventory.

After getting us glasses of lemonade, she put a roast chicken on the table, along with a bowl of mashed potatoes with carrots. “Dig in.”

We passed the food around, loading up our plates. Once we were all a few bites in, Ms. P. said, “Tell me, do either of you know anything about quantum physics?”

We shook our heads.

“Quantum physics was my area of study back in graduate school.” Ms. P. toyed with her potatoes to let the steam out. “It’s the area of physics that studies the most fundamental level of existence — the quantum level. According to quantum theory, it is impossible to measure both the position and direction of any given particle.”

The idea sounded familiar. “I heard something about that in physics class.” Unfortunately, I didn’t always pay attention.

“I believe that particles are, in fact, ‘jumping worlds’; that is to say, subatomic particles are actually jumping back and forth between universes — or dimensions, if you’d prefer.”

It was strange to hear Ms. P. talking this way. I knew she was really smart, but all this quantum physics was over my head.

“Wait a minute,” Alexander said, holding up his hand to slow her down. “By dimensions, you mean two worlds unfolding simultaneously?”

“Yes.” Ms. P. pushed up her glasses. “The number of dimensions out there is infinite. And because particles are jumping from one universe to another, many of these dimensions are remarkably similar to our own. But in your dimension, Alexander, there are vampires, and in ours there are not.”

“The theory is plausible, but can you explain why Elizabeth Howard knows what is going on in my dimension?” Alexander asked. “Do you think she has found a way to travel between dimensions?”

Ms. P shook her head. “I doubt that. I think some people are able to tap into parallel dimensions and write about them, often without knowing they are doing so. That is the essence of literary physics.”

Alexander frowned. “You’re saying that Elizabeth Howard
thinks
she’s making my world up, but is really just seeing it?”

“Exactly. Other authors are potentially doing the same.”

I tried to grasp this. So Elizabeth Howard didn’t realize what she was doing? I couldn’t wait until we could ask her in person.

“How is it possible that I crossed into this world?” Alexander asked.

Ms. P. took a sip of lemonade, looking thoughtful. “I would guess you were able to cross over in much the same way as subatomic particles. There must be a portal somewhere. The magnetic field of the portal kept your molecular structure intact. It’s really quite amazing. Do you remember feeling an electrical surge when you were chasing Vigo across the bridge?”

“I don’t think so, but I was full of adrenaline.”

“If you retrace your steps, you might be able to find it again. I’ll see if I can get my hands on a magnetic sensor for you. I still have some friends in the lab at U. of C. The sensor should help you locate it, if it’s still there.”

“We’re worried that Vigo might go after Elizabeth Howard,” I told her. “She’s revealed things about him that he wouldn’t want anyone to know.”

Ms. P. nodded gravely. “I hadn’t thought of that. Even if he weren’t angered by the books, there’s a chance he’ll try to track her down, thinking she knows a way back to Otherworld.”

“She has a book signing in New York City on Saturday, and we’re going to try to talk to her,” I said.

“Good idea. I’ll drive you. And if we’re able to talk to her, I’ll do what I can to lend some credibility to your story.”

“Once she sees me, she will have all of the proof she needs,” Alexander said.

But I wasn’t so sure.

CHAPTER
EIGHT

 

T
HE NEXT MORNING
, I stopped into the library before my first class. Ms. Finley, the art teacher, was standing in Ms. P.’s spot.

“Is she okay?” I asked, alarmed.

Ms. Finley smiled, obviously touched by my concern. “She’s under the weather today. She said she’ll probably be back tomorrow.”

“Thanks.” As I headed to my first class, I realized I should’ve expected that Ms. P. would take the day off. She must have been helping Alexander strategize. Last night, she’d offered her spare room and any resources she had to help him track down Vigo. I was relieved that he was going to stay with her. First of all, it would get Mom to stop asking so many questions about Alexander — I could tell her he’d found a place to stay. Plus, with all her knowledge, Ms. P. would be of more help to Alexander than I could ever be. Which isn’t to say I wouldn’t miss waking up and finding Alexander Banks in my home.

In Bio, Katie asked, “Where’d you go last night? Did you get my message?”

I already had the lie prepared. “I went to Starbucks and some other coffee shops to give out some résumés. I didn’t get your message until it was too late to call back.” Guilt knotted inside me. I so wanted to tell Katie the truth, but last night Ms. P., Alexander, and I had all agreed that Alexander’s presence in this world had to be kept a secret. If word got out, the attention he would get could jeopardize his mission to stop Vigo.

It was too bad, though, because I knew I could trust Katie with anything. Luisa was a different story. She would never tell deliberately, but she had a way of letting things slip.

“I thought maybe you had a hot date with that Alexander guy,” Katie said, grinning.

I wish.
“We’re just friends.”

“Right
now,
you are,” Katie teased. “I saw the way he looked at you. He totally has a crush on you.”

I laughed — no, giggled. “You dreamed that up.”

“I’m serious! I think he could be
the one,
Ames.”

By
“the one,”
I knew that she meant my first boyfriend.

“Ha! You’re blushing.” Katie’s hazel eyes sparkled.

“No, I’m not,” I protested, feeling my face get hotter by the minute.

“Don’t be embarrassed. It’ll work out. He wouldn’t have stopped by your school if he wasn’t interested.” She winked. “Hey, did you hear that Elizabeth Howard’s going to be on
Evening Report
Thursday night?”

I shook my head, surprised. Elizabeth Howard rarely did interviews. “Are you sure?”

“Yep. They announced it on the
Today Show
this morning. Apparently she’s been under pressure to speak out since the vampire murders.”

“None of this is her fault. But I’m sure they’ll give her a hard time.”

“Exactly. It’s stupid, if you ask me. No Otherworld fan would do something like that. Those books are deep and emotional.” She hesitated. “Psychotic killers wouldn’t be into that stuff, would they?”

“You never know. Maybe some guy wants to be like Vigo. We should be really careful.”

Katie shuddered. “You’re creeping me out.”

If she only knew.

Since I didn’t want to risk waking Alexander, I waited until sunset to call Ms. P. By the time I called, he had already gone out on the hunt. Ms. P. told me she’d spent the morning teaching him to drive modern cars, since they both agreed that he could move around the city faster that way.

Ms. P. was back at school the next day, but had nothing new to report. Alexander was no closer to finding Vigo, despite using Vigo’s equation of probabilities. We all knew what that could mean: Vigo had read the books, too.

And Elizabeth Howard was possibly in grave danger.

I kept feeling like I was waiting. Waiting for an update from Ms. P. Waiting for news of more murders. Waiting for
something
to change.

I hadn’t realized I’d been waiting to hear from Alexander himself until he called me before school on Thursday.

“Good morning,” he said.

The sound of his voice made my heart race. “Hi. How are you?”

“I am well.” There was silence for several seconds. “I was wondering if you would care to join me for dinner later this afternoon.”

My pulse kicked up. It almost sounded like a date, although it was silly to think that Alexander would have the inclination to date these days.

“Sure.”

“Is four thirty convenient for you?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Excellent. Until then.” He hung up.

The day passed all too slowly. Everybody was talking about the
Evening Report
interview that night and what Elizabeth Howard might say. Would she deny that her books could have inspired someone to kill? Or would she look directly at the camera and appeal to the killer to turn himself in?

When I got home from school, Chrissy and Madison were watching a teen horror flick in the living room. I noticed the movie was nearing its end, which probably meant that they’d
cut school for at least part of the afternoon. Mom had recently gotten a call from Chrissy’s school about her ditching classes and had warned her not to do it again, but Chrissy didn’t appear to be listening. Or maybe she
was
listening — to Madison instead of Mom.

“Hey,” I said.

“Shhh!” Chrissy waved me away. It was a tense scene, with a willowy blonde exploring a basement with a flashlight. I definitely wasn’t in the mood for horror movies right now. It felt like I was living in one.

Bypassing Chrissy and Madison, I went to my bedroom to start getting ready. Alexander would be picking me up in half an hour, and I wanted to look good. I kept the same faded jeans on but changed into a plum-colored top. I also put on some eyeliner, mascara, and lip gloss, though I made sure to keep it subtle. The last thing I wanted was for Alexander to think that I was trying to impress him. But he
was
Alexander Banks, and I was, well, human.

I figured I’d wait for him in the lobby. At 4:25, I went back into the living room. The movie was over, and Chrissy and Madison were watching a talk show.

“I’m going out,” I said, grabbing a jacket from the hall closet. “Tell Mom I won’t be home for dinner. I should be back in a couple of hours.”

“Do you have a book club meeting?” Madison asked.

She always referred to my friends as my “book club.”

“No. I have a date.”

It was worth it just to see Madison’s eyes bug out.

Chrissy’s head whipped around. “Is it that loser Alexander?”

“Maybe.” And I walked out of the apartment, leaving her hanging.

Okay, so maybe the date part wasn’t true, I thought, as I pressed the elevator button. But I didn’t regret saying it. What I did regret was that she’d probably tell Mom, and Mom would ask more questions about Alexander. Oh, well. It was still worth it to see the looks on their faces.

When I stepped out of the elevator, I saw Ms. P.’s little blue Civic waiting out front. Alexander got out and opened the door for me, sweeping his hand gallantly.

“You look quite refreshed, Amy.”

“Thanks.” Had he just paid me a compliment?

The car stereo was pumping classical music. He turned it down when he slid into the driver’s seat. “The cars of your world are remarkable. Such impressive technology. The seats and windows move electrically. And look, it even gives you directions.” He pointed to the GPS.

“Are you sure you’re okay to drive this?”

“Yes. The basic rules of driving are the same as in my world. Ms. Parker was kind enough to give me some lessons. It has a manual transmission, which I am accustomed to. But if you would prefer to drive, you can.”

“I don’t have a license,” I admitted. We didn’t have a car I
could practice on, and it never seemed all that necessary. Katie and Luisa didn’t have their licenses, either.

Alexander drove carefully, and not a mile above the speed limit. “Ms. Parker accorded me automobile privileges on the condition I avoid getting caught without a license.”

That made me nervous. “It’s unlikely you’ll get pulled over, but sometimes random people get stopped.”

“If that happens, I can only hope that my new running shoes will help me evade the police.”

I looked down and saw he was wearing the sneakers. I smiled.

We drifted into silence for a couple of minutes. I watched the city flit by the window, drenched in late afternoon sun. It was strange being in such a confined space with Alexander. Like the air was crackling with electricity. It was probably just me.

I cleared my throat. “Any leads on Vigo?”

“I have spoken to people who may have seen him in the downtown core. I would not be surprised if he struck there next. But that tells me nothing, of course, about where his hideout is located.”

“At least he hasn’t killed again.”

I saw a muscle bunch in his jaw. “We can’t be sure of that. He could easily have hidden his victims.”

My heart sank.

“Maybe he went back,” I said, vocalizing the thought as it came to me. “Maybe he knows about the portal and can travel
back and forth. He could’ve led you here just to get you out of his way.”

“That is a possibility. But my intuition says he’s still here.”

Intuition. In the books, it was given as much weight as science. And Alexander’s intuition never seemed to lead him astray.

Within a few minutes, Alexander had parked at the curb next to a Japanese restaurant called Genji. Did he even know what sushi was? The cuisine of Otherworld was traditional British fare, without many of the foods brought to the United States by twentieth century immigration. No one had dared to immigrate since the vampires came.

“Will this restaurant be satisfactory for you?” he asked, unbuckling his seat belt. “Ms. Parker recommended it.”

“Sure. I’ve always wanted to try Japanese food. You don’t have it in Otherworld, do you?”

“No, but I thought I would try new things while I am here.”

Strange. Alexander was a more adventurous eater than I was, and he’d only been in my world a short time.

I was about to get out of the car when he touched my arm. “Amy, I have one small request.”

“Yes?”

“Please do not call my world ‘Otherworld.’ That is Elizabeth Howard’s name for it, not mine. To me, it is simply Chicago. My home.”

“I’m sorry.”

He smiled. “Do not be sorry. Just understand.”

We went inside. The restaurant’s décor was minimalist, with small white tables separated by Japanese screens. Although our table was in the center of the restaurant, the screens made it feel private. If I pushed my chair back a little, I could see the sushi chefs in the kitchen. Alexander positioned himself so that he could see the front door. I figured it was force of habit. Even though it was still daylight, he was on guard.

As if following my thoughts, he said, “I will have you home by sunset.”

“About that, I was thinking—” I paused when a waitress came to fill our glasses with water. She asked if we would like something else to drink, and we both shook our heads. With his fork, Alexander removed the lime from his water and placed it on the table.

“I was thinking that I could help you,” I finished. When he looked at me quizzically, I hurried on, “Another pair of eyes would be helpful, don’t you think? I feel useless hiding at home while you’re out there looking for him.”

For a second, he looked like he was about to laugh, but then he saw that I was serious and he grew solemn as well. “You cannot help, Amy. Put that foolishness out of your head. You’d be nothing but a liability.”

There it was: Alexander’s trademark frankness. In the books, I’d found it refreshing; I could only imagine the freedom of being
able to say exactly what I wanted. It wasn’t so refreshing now that it was directed at me.

I wasn’t going to go down without a fight. I took a long sip of water and faced Alexander again. “Earlier you said you’ve been questioning some people on the street about Vigo. I could help with that.”

His expression darkened. “We are talking about a vampire, not some hooligan. I will not endanger your life just so you can feel useful.”

If he’d put it more tactfully, I might have been touched that he cared.

“It is only a matter of time before Vigo finds out that I have been asking questions about him,” Alexander went on. “What if he were to find out that a girl was with me? Who would be the easier target?”

“I see your point, but I wouldn’t be wearing a name tag.”

“True, but you must not underestimate Vigo. If he wanted to find you, he could. And I am not willing to take that risk.”

I sighed. “I guess you’re right.”

“I
am
right. But I will say this, Amy. You’re brave for a woman.”

“For a woman?”

He cracked a smile, then started laughing.

I couldn’t believe it. He was teasing me. Again.

Wasn’t he too busy carrying the weight of the world on
his shoulders to joke around? Obviously not. I couldn’t help laughing, too.

When our laughter subsided, we looked at each other, and there it was — a glimpse of the Alexander beneath. The one I’d always suspected was there. The one who was just an ordinary teenage guy.

Then he looked away, and his face closed again.

He ordered sushi rolls with fresh salmon, tuna, and eel, careful to avoid the spicy ones, along with pieces of shrimp, yellowtail, and sea urchin, with a side of sticky rice. I chose two vegetarian rolls, cucumber and avocado, and one California roll.

“I guess Ms. P. told you that Elizabeth Howard’s going to be on
Evening Report
tonight,” I said. “Are you going to watch it?”

“No. I will be out hunting by then. But I am intrigued to hear what she will say about the killings.”

“Me, too.”

When we got the food, Alexander veered the conversation away from anything vampire, and on to my Chicago. He wanted to know how it had come to be so technologically advanced, how we chose elected officials, how much money we paid in taxes … and that was just the beginning. I was embarrassed that I couldn’t supply more answers, but I tried my best.