The Vampire Stalker

  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 ReportThursday 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.

  “You’ve got a lot of questions,” I said, polishing off my California roll — it turned out sushi was tasty. “Are you thinking of running for mayor of Oth — of Chicago one day?”

  “Mayor? Good heavens, no. James possesses that ambition, not me. I merely have an incurable curiosity.”

  That curiosity was another aspect of Alexander that Elizabeth Howard hadn’t discussed in the books. The more I spent time with him, the more sides of him I saw. And I felt so excited — privileged, even — to be getting to know him.

  “Your world fascinates me, Amy. I couldn’t have dreamed it up if I tried. So much innovation, so much opportunity. It is remarkable.”

  “It’s nice that you see it that way. A lot of people think, with the economy as it is, there aren’t a lot of opportunities.”

  “That’s ridiculous. You are all extremely fortunate.” He gestured with his chopsticks around the room, as if encompassing everyone. “Your people have never had to contend with vampires — at least, not until recently. You are not expected to marry so young. You are offered education. You have hospitals. A fairly competent police force, from what I have seen. What more could anyone want?”

  His eyes were bright with passion, and a wave of sadness came over me. In my world, a guy his age would probably be going to college, partying, dating. Alexander didn’t have those luxuries.

  He’d spent most of his life conditioning himself physically and mentally to stalk vampires, and by the time he was sixteen, he’d garnered a reputation as the most fearless vampire hunter in Chicago.

  One thing he did have was purpose. He had devoted his life to a noble cause — eliminating the vampires who posed a threat to his city. Part of me envied that he didn’t have the confusion of wondering what to do with his life. But another part of me thought that confusion was an important part of growing up.

  He was right that the people of my world were lucky. Suddenly all of my complaints about my city, my school, my life, my annoying sister, seemed trivial next to what the people of his world had to deal with.

  No wonder Alexander thought that if one of our worlds was fantasy, it was mine.

  As Alexander drove me home, the sun dipped behind the clouds, streaking the sky orange-pink. I wasn’t ready to leave his company, but I knew he planned to have me inside before his night of hunting began.

  Alexander stopped the car in front of my building. “Thank you for having dinner with me.”

  “You’re welcome. I’ll see you Saturday for the signing. If you need anything, call me. I’ll have my cell phone on all the time, except when I’m in class.”

  “I have one, too,” he sai
d, pulling it out of his pocket proudly. “Ms. P. felt it was necessary.”

  I grinned at the sight of Alexander holding a cell. Who would have thought? “Great, then I can show you how to send a text message,” I said.

  “The sun will be setting in eighteen minutes. Six twenty-two, to be precise.”

  “It won’t take long.”

  His phone was black and sleek, and much newer than mine. I clicked on his contact list. My cell phone number was programmed in, along with Ms. P.’s cell, work, and home numbers.

  “So, here is how you send me a text message. It’s like a phone call but written down.” I inched a little closer to Alexander, and when I felt the friction of his arm near mine, my heart pounded.

  “Like e-mail, then.” Alexander nodded. “A message without paper.”

  “Right. You click on this until my number comes up, like you do when you’re calling me. But instead of pressing Talk, you press this button over here.” Looking up, I saw that his eyes were focused on my face, not the phone. I hoped I didn’t have soy sauce caked on my cheek. I touched my face self-consciously. “Um, you with me?”

  “Yes. Yes, of course.” He gave his head a little shake. “You said a certain button.”

  “This button.” I clicked it. “Now you type the message. It goes like this. Say you want to type Hi Amy.” I typed it slowly, glancing up again to make sure he was following, and he was. “When you’re done putting in the message, you press this button.” I pressed it, and my phone buzzed in my pocket.

  “Remarkable.”

  Taking out my cell, I quickly texted him back: Hi Alexander, and sent it. His phone beeped. He opened it and pressed a button to access the message.

  “Now that I’ve messaged you back,” I said, “you just need to press that button to reply. Go ahead.”

  He did, and very slowly typed in a few letters. Moments later the phone buzzed in my hand. I checked the message: Goodd teaacher