around a guy’s shopping cart. He’d stopped in the middle of the aisle to stare at me open-mouthed. I growled a curse under my breath and reminded myself to talk more softly in public when mentioning the Others. “Don’t worry about me, Chaz is coming by before dark. Everything will be fine.”
“You better be right about that. If something happens to you before I get back, I will beat you myself.”
I laughed. “Trust me, you’ve got nothing to worry about. Besides, I’d whip you in a fight and you know it.”
Her own laughter sounded a bit less strained, and I was relieved she wasn’t going to go ballistic and come charging back to town to “save” me or something. “Okay, okay. It does sound like you’ve got things under control. Seriously, though, call me if you need me. Don’t wait until you’re in up to your neck to ask for help, all right?”
“I won’t. That’s why I invited Chaz over, remember? He’ll keep me safe.”
“Yeah, I got it. What’s the name of the vamp?” she asked. “I’ll stop by the office and run a background check.”
“Max Carlyle. I did a brief search, didn’t come up with anything solid. If you want to dig deeper, you’re welcome to–tomorrow.”
“I plan on it. I’m coming over as soon as I get back.”
“Okay, sounds good,” I said, making a mental note to pick up more snacks if I was going to have everyone camp out at my place all day tomorrow. Hmm, maybe some movies, too. “See you then.”
“Later,” she said.
The call went over better than I’d expected, mostly because I hadn’t told her I’d let Royce into my home. Oh well, I’d tell her when I saw her tomorrow.
I continued stuffing my shopping cart, then got in line at the check stand. A couple waiting two stands down kept looking in my direction and whispering to each other. Had they overheard me talking about White Hats and vampires in the tea and coffee aisle?
Shrugging it off, I glanced at the headlines of the magazines and silly news rags. A special edition newspaper caught my eye. One of the headlines made my jaw drop, and explained why so many people had been staring at me–completely aside from my tendency to talk too loudly on my cell phone.
Right there, under yet another story about a crooked politician, was: VAMPIRE ROYCE SAVES DAMSEL IN DISTRESS! There was a ridiculous, obviously computer-altered picture of a vampire that looked vaguely like Peter looming in a doorway. Royce stood nearby with his arms around … was that me? I snatched the thing up, trying to figure out how in the hell the newshounds could’ve heard about it, let alone gotten close enough to snap pictures.
IS NEW YORK’S NEWEST HERO A VAMPIRE?
by Jim Pradiz
TERRACE HEIGHTS (Sept. 21)–Calls made to the police requesting assistance in a vampire attack last night were answered by Alec Royce. Royce chased away the vampire who assaulted local private investigator Shiarra Waynest shortly before police arrived on the scene at her apartment.
Sgt. Daniel Vega, the officer in charge of the investigation, made a statement regarding the attempted assault on a human and Alec Royce’s involvement. “Right now, this attack is under intense scrutiny. We will find the Other responsible and bring him to justice. Vampires are not exempt from the law. That girl was very lucky that Alec Royce was there to save her.”
Waynest fell into the vampire’s arms after the timely rescue (see photos next page). Neighbors and friends say that Royce and Waynest have known each other for a long time, but some sources stated that Waynest was seeing someone else.
There is speculation that, despite any other men in her life, she will be accompanying Royce to the joint NYPD/NYFD Charity Ball to be held next month at the Metropolitan Opera House. Alec Royce was named New York’s most eligible unliving bachelor earlier this year after ending a tumultuous long-term relationship with runway model and environmental activist Dawn Hartley.
Per public records, Waynest was contractually bound to Royce on March 13 of this year. It is not known if they are officially dating or if Royce has plans to turn her into a vampire. Messages left for comment with Royce’s publicist and H&W Investigations have not been returned.
The story was almost as ridiculous, and parts of it as obviously fabricated, as the doctored picture. I cringed at the photo spread inside featuring the very real, very unaltered, shot of me pinned in Royce’s arms as he leaned down to bite my neck. Even worse were the implications that we were dating and that I was being a ho-bag. The writer, Jim Pradiz, had managed to dig up the information on who I was and that Royce and I were contracted. But who the hell had said we were dating? The speculation that I was going to be Royce’s honey for the next millennium or so gave me the dry heaves.
The photographer must have been following Royce. The picture of my attacker looked like someone had taken a badly cut photo from a cheesy eighties B-movie, blurred it to make the face indistinct, then inserted the vamp in the appropriate spot in what was supposed to be my living room. They’d used another of me from when I’d given statements to the press after an incident at the Embassy Suites, and what I thought might be a stock headshot of Royce. But the pic of Royce about to bite me was genuine.
What was the point of this story other than to give me heartburn and a bad case of the heebie-jeebies? Was Royce behind it? Max Carlyle? Someone else entirely?
I tossed the paper on top of my groceries on the counter, feeling ill and shocked as I waited to be checked out. I felt like I was being railroaded toward some unknown destination and that each of the events of the last few days were tied into it. But untangling how it came together was beyond me right then.
Once everything was paid for and loaded back into my cart, I trudged to my car. I’d almost forgotten about Officers O’Donnell and Grady. They fell in step on either side of me once I emerged, drawing yet more unneeded attention. Sigh.
Officer O’Donnell piped up, his serious-cop-face on. “Ma’am, can we escort you home? We heard on the radio that there are an unusual number of paparazzi at the station asking about you. It might be best to get you back to the privacy of your home.”
“Ugh, thanks for telling me. Yeah, let’s go.” I paused. “Actually, do you guys want to come up for coffee or anything once we get back? I’ve got enough food here to feed a herd of elephants.”
Officer Grady finally cracked a smile, looking like a grumpy old bear who’d just been given a pot of honey instead of one woken from hibernation. His voice was surprisingly mellow, and didn’t match the gruff exterior. “Thanks, miss, but we should probably stay posted at our vehicle and keep watch outside.”
I shrugged and nodded, pulling open my trunk as I got to the car. As I dumped the groceries in the back, I thought about what to do next. The rest of my errands could wait. I could watch movies or fart around on the Internet until I needed to start cooking dinner. My answering machine was probably overloaded if paparazzi were asking about me at the police station. I could while away some time by returning a few calls and threatening to bring a suit if they didn’t retract the ridiculous stories about me.
Hopefully none of my friends or family had seen the stupid article.
Though
