Royce pulled a similar stunt at a press conference and demonstrated that he was no pretender with caps from a dentist and too many role-playing games under his belt. He’d managed to prevent widespread panic by the charitable contributions of his coven and offers of aid to the families of those affected by the terrorist attacks.
Royce was one of a very few elder vampires who was open to being interviewed or approached. He was often found at charity auctions, theater and restaurant openings, political rallies, and other events that might attract media attention. It didn’t make him any less dangerous, of course, but his actions seemed to help the overall public image of vampires. Yet considering what I knew of him, it was odd that he would put himself at such risk; being out in the open meant hunters like the White Hats could find him that much easier.
He opened his mouth to answer me, but there was a heavy pounding on the door that cut him off. “Police! Open up!”
I sighed. “Here we go.”
“It’s okay, the bad guy is gone!” I shouted as I hopped to my feet and went to the door.
Two of New York’s finest were waiting on the other side with hands on the butts of their guns, looking alert but relieved. They were probably thanking their lucky stars they wouldn’t have to deal with a vamp attack.
“Everything okay here, ma’am?” one asked.
“Yeah. Thanks for coming, but you missed the action,” I said. I noted that his eyes widened in surprise and looked back over my shoulder, starting slightly when I saw how close Royce was behind me. Jeez, he moved like a ghost. A fast ghost. Gave me the willies. Both officers instantly had their weapons out and pointed at him.
“Hands up! Get away from her now!”
“Move it!”
Not having anticipated that reaction, I quickly spread my arms out and tried to shout loudly enough over their shouting so they could hear me. “Wait, wait, wait! This isn’t the vampire who attacked me! Hold on!”
Royce did what they ordered and lifted his hands, slowly backing away from me. He looked more amused than upset or frightened, which ticked me off. If he hadn’t been acting all creepy behind me, the police wouldn’t be on the verge of shooting him. His amusement with their reactions was more irritating than anything. Did he ever take anything seriously?
One of the two officers, D. BOWMAN by his name tag, slid around me into the apartment and kept his gun trained on Royce. He was a big guy, but he moved pretty well and knew what he was doing. I stepped aside to give the other officer more room, praying they weren’t so jumpy that they had itchy trigger fingers. “This isn’t the same vampire, you said? Wait a sec. You look familiar.”
“No, it’s not the same vampire,” I said, some exasperation trickling out despite my better intentions. “This is Alec Royce.”
The other cop blinked and turned to look at me, his weapon slowly lowering. “Did you say Alec Royce?”
“Yes,” Royce put in, that same bemused smile curving his lips. “That’s me.”
“Jesus, Derek, put down your gun,” the first cop exclaimed as he quickly holstered his piece. “So sorry for the mix-up, Mr. Royce. Is everything okay here?”
The other cop looked confused–and then recognition dawned. His jaw dropped, and he had to try twice to get his gun in the holster as he backed up. He was gaping at the vampire while his partner was thinking fast and trying to do a PR salvage of the situation.
Royce lowered his hands, patting the nearer officer on the shoulder. Judging by how he flinched, the vamp might as well have touched him with a hot iron. “Not to worry, you’re just doing your jobs. I’d be happy to give you a statement and cooperate in any way you deem necessary.”
I watched this unfold, nonplussed. Royce had the NYPD in his pocket, too? I knew he was influential and well known, but this was crazy. You’d think they’d pulled a gun on the mayor by the way the two were reacting, going from bristling protectors of the damsel who wasn’t exactly in distress anymore to suave politicians trying to smooth any of the big bad vampire’s potentially ruffled feathers.
“Excuse me, ma’am, but would you come this way so I can take your statement?” Officer Bowman asked with just a little too much strained politeness, stirring me out of my thoughts. When I nodded assent, he led me across the room. He pulled a pad of paper and a pen from his shirt pocket to take notes, speaking quietly. “Sorry about all this, we didn’t realize that Mr. Royce would be here. Can I get your name, and what happened exactly?”
I glanced at the other officer, who was chatting with Royce like they were old buddies from high school or something. Rolling my eyes, I proceeded to tell Officer Bowman what happened. “My name is Shiarra Waynest. Another vampire showed up shortly before Royce did. When I opened the door, the other vamp tried to grab me, but I managed to keep away.” Easier to explain it that way than to enlighten him about the intricacies of the metaphysical shields on my door. “He said his name was Peter and he was trying to take me to see someone named Max Carlyle.”
“Max Carlyle? Any idea who that is or what he wants with you?”
“I wish I knew,” I said, keeping as straight a face as I could. All I had right now was conjecture. I wasn’t going to tell him anything about the little party I’d crashed or the details about Anastasia’s death. What the police already knew was all that I, Royce, and the Weres who had been present were willing to give on the subject.
The cop stared at me for a sec, his gaze taking on that flinty, steely look that said, “I know you’re lying to me.” I stared right back, not giving an inch. I’d done this routine with the cops enough times in my line of work to know when to talk, and when to keep my mouth shut. Plus, I knew I didn’t have any other information that would be useful to their investigation.
“You’re sure there’s nothing, no connection between you and this Carlyle guy?”
I shrugged, gesturing at Royce. “He’s a vamp, maybe he knows something about it. I don’t have a clue what Max Carlyle wants with me.” That much was true, at least.
He took some more notes, more than what I’d said. I wondered idly what he was writing down, hiding a yawn with my hand. It was way past my bedtime.
“Okay. So what happened after he told you what he wanted?”
“That’s about the time Royce arrived and scared him off.”
Officer Bowman nodded, rubbing the five o’clock shadow on his chin before jotting down what I’d said on his notepad. I gave a description of Peter, answering the rest of his questions as accurately as I could, though there wasn’t much more I knew beyond what I’d already said. He did ask a couple different ways for some hint of a connection to Max, but I didn’t know what else to tell him. I’d never seen the guy, couldn’t give a physical description, and had no idea where he was from or why he was trying to get his hands on me.
Royce had finished talking to the other officer by the time I wrapped up my statement. I walked the two policemen to the door.
“Thanks again, Officers. Hope you find that guy and get him off the streets.”
