Sitting down on the couch, I turned on a local station. A puffy-eyed reporter was at a crime scene. Yellow tape blocked off a park behind him. “Two teenage boys were found dead on a basketball court in Archer Park, apparently with teeth-marks on their necks. The police are being tight-lipped about this, Jane, but I think they’re flabbergasted. We’ve never seen anything like it.”
Oh, God.
I put my face in my hands. This couldn’t really be happening, could it? Vigo on a rampage in my city?
And I’d almost been his victim. My gut twisted. I bet he’d killed those poor guys after Alexander had foiled his attack on me.
I hadn’t called the police last night. Maybe I should have. Would they have put out some sort of notice? Would it have stopped two teenage guys from playing late-night basketball?
The couch dipped beside me as Alexander sat down, his dark gaze riveted on the TV. “Is this happening at the present time?”
I nodded.
I saw the knife-thin crease between his brows as he listened to the news of the murders. If I’d had any doubt that Alexander was who he said he was, or that my attacker last night had been Vigo, I didn’t anymore.
Alexander had been so close to catching Vigo at the end of The Mists that he’d had readers jumping out of their seats. But would he be able to get that close to him again in a city he didn’t know?
“I am going to need excellent maps of the city,” Alexander said, his eyes not straying from the TV. “Schematics of underground tunnels and sewer systems are essential.”
“Don’t you think you should take a couple of days to get to know the city?” I asked. “If you don’t know your way around, it could work against you.”
“Vigo doesn’t know the city, either. He would not have his usual hiding places, nor the protection of his coven.” He took a breath. “This could be the chance I’ve been waiting for.”
Alexander had a point. And though I was afraid for his safety, I was also afraid for everyone else in this city. They didn’t know there was a real vampire around.
“I’ll get you maps. And some clothes, too. So you won’t attract attention.”
“I appreciate your help and hospitality.” He turned to me, a chilling resolve in his eyes. “Let me assure you that I will do everything in my power to stop Vigo before he can cause more terror. I do not wish your world to become like mine.”
Me neither.
An hour later, Alexander Banks walked into the mall wearing my Cubs jersey, his own trousers, and high leather boots. The odd fashion got him some stares, and I was eager to get him into other clothes. But the unusual getup didn’t make him any less handsome, and I could tell that many of the stares were from intrigued females.
As Alexander and I headed toward the big department store at the south end of the mall, I glanced around, hoping we wouldn’t bump into anyone I knew from school. Thankfully, Katie and Luisa were both busy with family obligations that day. And it was just after nine o’clock and the mall was half empty. But I was still paranoid.
Alexander, too, was looking around, but his eyes were wide and he seemed almost overwhelmed.
“This is definitely not my Chicago,” he said. “I have never seen anything like this. So many lights and colors. It is dizzying.”
“Are there shopping malls where you’re from?” I couldn’t remember one being mentioned in the books.
“There are shopping plazas of various kinds. None as colossal as this one. And all of them are aglow with natural light, for obvious reasons.” He looked upward toward the huge skylight. “Are there parts of this plaza that are not exposed to natural light?”
“I think so. There are lots of stores in the basement.”
Alexander’s gaze grew troubled. “Then he can move about here by day, if he likes.”
The thought made me shudder. Even though we were on the ground level with plenty of natural light, I found myself glancing over my shoulder. “There are a lot of places where he could move around in the daytime. Malls, movie theaters, office buildings. And there are miles of underground subway tunnels all over the city.”
Alexander nodded, looking determined. “Let us get this shopping done, Amy, so I can study the schematics.”
When we arrived at the department store, Alexander glanced around in amazement again. “Such a vast selection of … everything,” he said, taking in the aisles of goods. “How does one choose?”
I showed him some track pants on a reduced rack, which he said looked ridiculous. I guess people didn’t wear track pants in Otherworld Chicago. But when I told him they were for sports, he seemed open to trying them on. I offered him some khakis, which he approved of. Then he picked up some T-shirts, a sweatshirt, a jacket, socks, and some toiletries.
“I will find a way to repay you,” he said later as we walked out of the store with our purchases. I knew that it was hard for him to let me buy these things, but he had no choice. Until he got to know my world better, he would have to rely on me.
“You saved my life, and you’re trying to protect my city. It’s the least I can do,” I said truthfully.
“I am, nonetheless, grateful.” He rubbed his temple, as if the lights were giving him a headache. “Are we done here?”
“One more thing. I think you should have some running shoes.” I eyed his battered leather boots.
“My boots are adequate.”
“Maybe, but take a look at these.” I turned into an athletic store, leading him to the sneaker section, where dozens of options were displayed on the walls.
Alexander picked up a Nike cross trainer. “Strange design.”
“Why don’t you try it? It might be easier to run in these than your boots.”
“This shoe clearly is not my size, and there is no time to have more made.”
I tried not to laugh. “They have some in the back room that are your size,” I explained. It was funny, the things we took for granted in our daily lives.
A salesperson came up, asking if he wanted to try them on.
“He’ll try them on, but he’s not sure of his size,” I answered for him. “Could you measure his feet?”
Alexander submitted to having his feet measured, then waited in his socks for the salesman to bring the sneakers. He put them on and walked a few steps. “These won’t do at all. They feel as though I am walking on marshmallows. Thank you, Amy, but my boots will do just fine.”
Again, I bit back my laughter. “They’re called running shoes. They should help you run even faster than you do now.”
“Faster?” That got his attention. He jumped up and down several times to test out the sneakers. “I will take them.”
I wasn’t keen on the hundred-dollar price tag, but anything that could help Alexander catch up with Vigo would be worth it.
Alexander changed into the new clothes in the mall bathroom. When we got home, it was eleven thirty. Luckily, Chrissy still wasn’t up, and Mom had left a note to say she’d gone out for groceries, which could take a while. I did a quick Internet search and downloaded as many maps of the city as I could find, then printed them all. Alexander laid them out on the kitchen table and studied them, asking me questions as he did. He wanted me to describe different parts of the city, landmarks, topography, everything. I thought I knew my city well, but I wasn’t able to give him all the details he wanted. I did, however, go back to the Internet several times to look things up for him.
At one point, Chrissy appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, sleep-rumpled, in a short nightgown. “Who’s that?” she asked, looking over at Alexander.
It wasn’t that Chrissy had never learned manners, I thought irritably; she just didn’t use them.
“This is my friend Alexander. He’s staying with us for a couple of days.”
“Staying here? Why?”
Alexander looked up from the maps, his glare cool. “And who are you?”
She seemed taken aback. “Chrissy.”
“Chrissy?” he repeated, as
though it didn’t sound right. “It is not a name I am familiar with.”
“It’s short for Christina,” I explained.
“I see,” he said with a nod. “That is a name I recognize, to be sure.”
“Do you have a problem with my name or something?” Chrissy asked suspiciously.
“No.” He looked puzzled. “Do you?” When she didn’t immediately reply, he turned his attention back to the maps, effectively shutting her down.
Chrissy made a face, then grabbed a box of Pop-Tarts and retreated. I followed her into the living room.
“Who is that guy?” she demanded. “And why does he have to stay here?”
“He’s a friend of a friend and needed a place to stay. Please be nice to him.” If Mom was going to support Alexander staying here, I needed Chrissy on our side, too.
“I’m always nice.” She bit into a Pop-Tart. “He was totally rude.”
“He didn’t mean to be. You just caught him at a bad time. He works nights and hasn’t gone to bed yet.”
“He hasn’t gone to bed yet? That’s crazy. Where does he work?”
I thought fast. “An all-night convenience store downtown.”
“A convenience store, seriously? Doesn’t he go to school? He looks old enough to be in college.”
Like Chrissy was one to judge. She didn’t go to school as often as she was supposed to.
“I don’t know what his plans are,” I answered.
Chrissy shot me a glance. “He’s cute, you know.”
I chose to ignore that.
Chrissy plopped down on the sofa and turned on the TV. The local news was still reporting on the murdered teens.
Chrissy listened, mouth gaping open. “Did you see?” She turned to glare at me. “Some crazy person’s out there killing people, pretending to be a vampire. It’s ‘cause of those vampire books you read.”
“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 po
werless. I hoped Alexander could catch Vigo, because if he didn’t, the city had no idea what it was in for.
CHAPTER
FIVE
SOUNDLESS, 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.”