“Yeah. Why? Does it matter?”
“I don’t know yet. Tell me the rest.”
It didn’t take long for me to finish. “So,” I said, concluding the story, “I need to know everything you know. Start with Forster, Pearson and Sims. And how they knew about Greg that night.”
Nick ran a hand across his eyes. “It’s not that simple, Elle. I’m not supposed to talk about it at all. I’m not entirely sure that meeting you here today was a good idea.”
“I don’t care what’s a good idea and what’s not, Nick. You told me to call you if I ran into trouble. The man who, up until just a few days ago, I planned to spend my life with, attacked me last night.” I emphasized the last four words. “I’m in trouble and I called. I need your help. Talk to me. What do you know?”
We both leaned back as our waitress brought our food and slapped it down in front of us.
Nick pushed his plate slightly away, then looked up at me. “Okay. I don’t know if I can tell you anything all that helpful, but I guess I need to tell you how I got into this business in the first place.”
I took a bite of my salad and waited for him to begin.
“Alec Pearson is my godfather.”
I stopped chewing and raised my eyebrows.
Nick nodded. “He and my father were college buddies. I was thirteen when my parents both died in a car wreck and Alec took me in. He didn’t have any idea what to do with a teenage boy, and I didn’t have any idea how to deal with losing both parents and leaving behind pretty much everything I’d known to move in with this guy I’d known all my life but never spent much time with.
“Not that we spent much time together after I’d moved in, either. At that point, Alec was still young, trying to prove himself in his grandfather’s firm. He wasn’t around much, so I did just about anything I wanted to. It didn’t take long for me to get myself arrested—it was on a breaking and entering charge, though it could have been any number of things; that was just what I got caught doing.
“So Alec did the only thing he could think of: he sent me away to military school to straighten me out. It worked, too. After I graduated, I went into the Marines as an officer and stayed in the military for twelve years.
“By this time, Alec’s grandfather had died, his father was a partner in the firm and Alec was well on his way to becoming a partner, too. That’s when they got mixed up with the vampires.
“I don’t know exactly what happened. I’m not sure anybody knows. But it had something to do with a real estate transaction—that’s mostly what Alec’s father, Benjamin, dealt in. As best we can figure, some big-honcho vampire hired the firm to negotiate the sale of a building the vampires owned.”
Nick paused to take a bite of his lunch. I realized that my mouth was hanging open.
“Vampires own real estate in Manhattan?” I asked incredulously.
“Apparently,” said Nick. “I don’t know for sure, but I’d guess they own a lot more than just real estate. Wouldn’t you, if you were going to live forever?”
I nodded. “I guess so.”
“Alec says that they all knew something weird was up. Their new client, a Mr. Salvaggi, refused to meet them during the daytime. He refused to meet with anyone other than Benjamin. By all accounts, he was a difficult client.
“But the Pearsons were used to dealing with difficult clients—according to Alec, the very rich are often also the very demanding. So they really didn’t think anything of it.
“At least, not until Benjamin Pearson turned up dead.” Nick paused and took a long drink from his cup of coffee. I had forgotten all about my salad and was leaning forward across the table so as to catch every word.
“Alec was the one who found him, of course. Benjamin had a late-night meeting with his client, and when Alec came into the office the next morning, Benjamin was stretched out behind his desk.
“He called in the police, and they ruled the death a homicide.” Nick laughed that short barking laugh of his. “They never could figure out why there was no blood at the scene—they finally decided Benjamin must’ve been killed somewhere else and dumped back in his office. The body was all carved up; the police assumed that the two puncture wounds in Benjamin’s neck were part of the ‘ritualistic’ murder.
“Alec might have bought the whole ritual murder scenario, too, except for one thing: his father had left detailed records about his dealings with Salvaggi. And his father had figured out the truth.
“By the time Alec brought me in, he’d done some investigating on his own. I would have thought he was crazy—sane people don’t believe in vampires, right?—if he hadn’t managed to capture one of them.
“He had it locked in a walk-in safe when I went up to his office. He’d told me his whole story and shown me a whole bunch of documents, but I was still about to walk out when he opened the curtains in his office and opened the door to the safe. All I saw at first was that some guy was hog-tied and gagged.
“Alec turned around to me and said, ‘This is what we’re dealing with, Nick.’ Then he grabbed the rope and hauled the guy out into the sunlight.
“It was the most horrible thing I’d seen in my life up to that point—and I’d seen some pretty terrible stuff. The guy didn’t burn so much as…. It looked like acid was eating away at his skin from the inside. It started where the sun touched him and spread.”
I pushed the remains of my lunch away, no longer hungry. Nick, intent on his story, had long ago given up on eating.
“I took a little more convincing—it’s not an easy thing to believe, that vampires are hanging around in Manhattan—” I had to agree with him there “—but eventually Alec won me around,” he said. “And the thing is, that whatever else Forster, Pearson, and Sims does—and they do a lot of actual lawyering—they also, because of Alec, spend a lot of time and effort, not to mention money, arranging to kill vampires. And I’m the one who runs that part of the business.”
Great. Lawyers who run a vampire killing business on the side. My life just kept getting weirder and weirder.
“Okay,” I said slowly, “so what happened the night Greg got attacked?”
“I don’t know. Honest. I got a call from Alec’s assistant, and he gave me the information. Once a vampire is taken out, we don’t necessarily talk about it again. And even though we weren’t the ones who got that kill, the vampire was gone. Problem solved.”
“How much did Greg know about this little sideline in his law firm?”
“Probably nothing—it’s not the sort of thing the partners tell the new hires.”
I should imagine not.
Clearly the next step in saving myself from becoming a vampire treat was to talk to Alec Pearson.
Nick agreed to set up an appointment with his boss for me. “I’ll call you as soon as I have a date and time,” he said, “but give me a few days for us to check into all of this, okay? Maybe we can figure out where Greg is hiding, or if he’s hooked up with any other vampires. And in the meantime, don’t go out at night if you can help it.”
I had no trouble assuring him that I had every intention of staying off the streets at night.
I also showed him my pointy chopsticks. He wasn’t as impressed as I might have hoped.
“I’m not sure they’re sharp enough.” He turned one over and pressed it against his forearm. “You’d have to have an awful lot of muscle behind one of these for it to actually kill a vampire. But it might do, in a pinch. Keep it on you, anyway, just in case.”
I left the restaurant deep in thought. It was still afternoon when I got back to the Bronx, and I was beginning to feel the effects of having ignored my salad in favor of Nick’s story, so I decided to take a stroll through my neighborhood and get something to eat.
My new apartment was just on the edge of Little Italy—not the one in Manhattan, but what the Bronx locals call the “Real Little Italy.” It stretches along Arthur Avenue and comprises a series of pizza joints, restaurants, bakeries, Italian ice shops
, specialty grocery stores, and butchers, interspersed with the more usual Bronx fare of 99-cent stores, drycleaners, and one-hour photo places. I stopped on 187th and picked up an Italian ice—vanilla cream with almonds—and ate it as I walked.
It was a beautiful spring day, and the sidewalks were full of people. Grandmothers sat on the stoops of buildings, watching children play on the sidewalk. Fordham students with low-slung jeans and backpacks strolled across the street. A delivery guy from a Chinese restaurant rushed past, probably hoping to get a big tip. Everywhere I looked, people were turning their faces up to enjoy the sunshine, an almost decadent-feeling treat after a long New York winter spent either cooped up inside or rushing through the cold under a relentlessly gray sky. As I watched all these people just living their lives, I realized that there was a good chance that I was the only person out in Little Italy today—maybe even in all of the Bronx—who knew that vampires existed, who knew that at least one of them had been out hunting last night.
It made me feel awfully lonely. And more than a little scared.
Chapter 4
Nick called three days later to tell me that Alec Pearson refused to meet with me.
“He says that the attack at Fordham must have been some sort of unlucky accident—he doesn’t believe that it had anything personal to do with you at all.” Nick’s voice sounded strange, tight and stressed.
“Really? And what do you think?” I asked. “You think my ex-boyfriend-turned-vampire just happened to be waiting for me? Do you think it’s all just bad luck in the vampire lottery?”
Nick sounded defeated. “I guess so.”
“Toeing the company line, Nick? That doesn’t really seem your style. I don’t believe that attack was any accident, and I don’t believe that you think it was, either.” My own voice rose to a higher pitch. “Greg was waiting for me. For me, Nick. And you know it.”
There was a little silence at the other end of the line, then Nick sighed.
“Whatever I might believe, Elle, I can’t force Alec to tell me anything he doesn’t want me to know. And I can’t force him to meet with you.”
“So what you’re saying is that I’m on my own?”
“Not exactly. Look, I’ll help you any way I can. But I can’t help you meet with Alec. And I can’t tell you anything or… or help you do anything that might…” he paused again, “run counter to my boss’s orders.”
“I see,” I said slowly. “So if I were to find out anything on my own…”
“I wouldn’t know anything about it. And I wouldn’t want you to tell me about it.”
“But if I happened to discover something entirely by myself, without any help from anyone at the law firm, and I needed to, say, take out a vampire or two just to keep myself safe, what then?”
“Hey. Killing monsters is what I do. If you find out anything on your own, you just give me a call and we’ll go take care of it.” Now I heard a grin in his voice.
“Okay, okay. I got it. I’m on my own until I figure this out. I’ll call you if I need you, Nick.” I was still angry, but I really couldn’t blame Nick too much—especially since I might need his help later. I couldn’t afford to alienate him now.
“And Elle—keep watching your back.”
I hung up the phone. Seconds later, it rang. It was Nick, calling me back.
“It’s not enough,” he said. He sounded almost angry.
“What’s not enough?”
“Just telling you to watch your back. You’re right. If he’s hunting you down, you need help. I still can’t tell you anything without Pearson’s permission, but I can at least help you figure out how to defend yourself against these things.”
I felt a wave of relief wash over me. I don’t think I had realized how terrified I was until that moment.
“Thanks, Nick.”
“No problem. And hey, maybe we can test your chopstick theory.” He gave me an address in Manhattan and we set a date for a training session the following Tuesday.
After we hung up, I stood staring at the floor of my apartment. I couldn’t rely on Nick for information. Don’t get me wrong—I was glad for the impending self-defense lessons. But I had to figure out what Alec Pearson knew. I didn’t want to do it alone, though.
I considered all the people I knew. It’s not like I didn’t have friends—I knew lots of people in the history graduate program, people I sometimes met for lunch or an afternoon drink.
I considered them one by one. Jenna, with her flowing skirts and vegetarianism and neo-hippy-flower-child cheerfulness. Justin, a tall thin gay man with a penchant for suspenders. Lita, who chain-smoked, waving her cigarette around as she intently pronounced the dangers of “allowing the patriarchy to control our actions.” Carla, small and blonde and round, anxious to make sure everyone around her was happy.
Not one of them was the sort of person to whom I could say “Hey, remember Greg? My fiancé? Well, he’s an evil vampire now. I need help killing him.”
Any one of them would start trying to convince me to seek professional help. And they couldn’t even begin to imagine how much therapy I was going to need when this was all over.
Nope. None of them could help. And I didn’t want to destroy their lives. I was fairly certain that they were safe so long as Vampire-Greg didn’t connect them to me. It should be easy enough. Greg had never been one to hang out with my friends. I doubted he even remembered their names, much less what they looked like. So I could probably keep them all safe by keeping my distance from them.
I closed my eyes. Oh, God, I thought. I can’t face this thing alone.
I opened my eyes again, struck by a sudden thought. There was one person who had already been seen by Vampire-Greg, who had offered his help when I needed it.
Malcolm Owens.
I knew it wasn’t fair to drag him into this. He didn’t have any connection to me. He didn’t have any reason to be willing to help. For all I knew, he was in league with the vampires.
But if he wasn’t connected to the vampires, he might already be in danger—especially if Vampire-Greg had any way of finding out who he was.
Okay. So I knew I was rationalizing.
But I really, really didn’t want to be alone with this stuff any longer.
And I if I was going to try to get information about what Greg had been working on when he was attacked, I needed help—I’d met several of the younger lawyers in Greg’s firm when he worked there, so I couldn’t just walk in; someone would almost certainly recognize me. I needed someone else to go undercover for me.
I dug Malcolm’s number out of the inner pocket of my purse without giving myself any more time to think about it.
I was trying to figure out what I’d say when his voicemail picked up, so I left a simple message: “Hi, Malcolm. This is Elle Dupree. I decided to go ahead and take you up on that offer for lunch. Give me a call when you get a chance.” I left my number and hung up.
*
I finally made it back to classes on Monday.
“Hey,” said Jenna as I slipped into the seat next to her. “Where were you last week?”
I looked at her for a long moment. “Greg and I broke up,” I said.
“Oh, honey,” she said, putting her hand out and touching my arm. “I am so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I said.
“Let’s grab coffee after class,” Jenna whispered as Dr. Sanchez walked into the room.
Coffee turned into lunch as I told Jenna as much of the story as I felt like I could. Minus the vampire bit, of course.
“I walked in on him with someone else,” I said, leaving her to draw her own conclusions.
“Who was she?” Jenna asked. “Did you know her?”
“It was a man,” I said. I stared down at the ground. I probably looked miserable, but I was also trying to hide the pleasure I took from giving her that little detail.
“Oh, no,” Jenna said. “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry. Well,” she said, settling back into her seat and tak
ing a sip of her coffee. “I know this is hard to hear right now, but if that’s what he wants, it’s better to know it now than after you’re married.”
I nodded in agreement. “I know you’re right. It’s hard, though. But listen,” I leaned forward and held out my scraped palms. “If you see Greg, get away from him. He hit me after I caught him. Pushed me down.”
“Elle!” Jenna said. “You have to make a police report.”
I shook my head. “No. I don’t think he’ll be back. But just in case I’m wrong, don’t let him get close to you. Promise me.”
Jenna looked dubious, but she nodded. “I promise. I still think you should go to the police, though.”
“And will you cover for me if I have to miss class again?” I asked. “I’m having a hard time with this.”
“Of course I will,” she said. She rubbed my arm. “And so will everyone else. I’ll tell them, if you want me to. So that you don’t have to. I know how hard this is for you.”
Oh, if only you did, I thought. But what I said was “Yes. Please. And thank you.”
*
The address Nick had given me turned out to be some martial arts training facility in Manhattan. It was in what looked like a regular office building, with a Fed-Ex and a Starbucks on the bottom floor.
Nick was already there, stretching and warming up on the wooden floor. He was awfully flexible for such a muscled man; when I walked through the door, his right leg was forward in split pose, and he was touching the ground with his inner thighs. I don’t know that I had ever before met a man who could do the splits.
As far as I could tell, we were the only two people in the small suite of rooms. When I asked Nick about it, he said, “I’ve rented the dojo out for the next three hours.”
Three hours. I didn’t think my occasional afternoon workouts at the campus gym had really prepared me for this.
I was right. I warmed up with him, stretching out on the floor in a variety of unlikely poses. Luckily for me, I remembered enough of my childhood dance and gymnastics lessons—the kind that practically every girl my age had taken as a child—to keep up with him. More or less.
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