“She said she’s doing a story on vampires. What being a vampire has been like since the NIH announcement, what’s changed, what hasn’t, is it harder, easier, whatever.”
“She was at the club and spotted your routine?”
“That’s what she said. She also said she’s been having trouble finding non-celebrity vampires willing to talk.”
In the few years since the NIH came out and said that yes, vampires exist, a handful of vampire celebrities had been identified. And at least one werewolf—named Kitty, if you could believe that. She apparently lived here in Denver, but I’d never met her.
“Wait a minute,” Aaron said, disappearing into his room in a flash of vampiric speed—he didn’t even seem to notice he was moving that fast. It was the recent blood. He returned a second—literally a second—later with his laptop. “Let’s see if she’s for real…”
We scrunched together on the sofa while he opened a browser window and did a search. I was almost surprised when a good number of hits came up. Clarissa Carter appeared to have a blog and had written articles for a number of online outlets, some of which I’d even heard of. Her resume listed print credits as well.
“No pictures, looks like,” I said. “Which isn’t totally weird but it’d be nice to verify. I have some magazine contacts we could ask if we want to know more.”
“No, this is good,” Jack said. “She asked for a meeting tomorrow night. You want to come?”
“Backup?”
“Yeah. You up for it?”
“This isn’t another good vampire/bad vampire routine, is it?”
“No, this is going to be in a brightly lit public place, all in the open,” he said.
Aaron backed away. “I’m out. I’m not good meeting people.”
Jack said, “You just need practice. You should come out to the club—”
“Do I look like a bad vampire to you?” Aaron exclaimed.
Neither of us said anything, because Aaron didn’t much look like a vampire at all.
“Okay, Aaron doesn’t have to come. But you’ll come, Sam, right?”
“Are you worried? Are you actually worried?” I said.
“Some reporter stakes out the club—”
“No pun intended, I’m sure.”
“—for the specific purpose of talking to me? Does that sound right to you?”
“So she’s up to something. You think Rick needs to know about this?”
“No. But I’m going to go talk to her. I’d appreciate it if you could come watch my back.”
I thought a second. What I really wanted to do was log on as soon as it was dark and find Ginny. But Jack seemed genuinely worried, and I was getting curious myself. “Let’s check it out.”
“I’ll call Rick if you’re not back by dawn,” Aaron said, marching back to his room.
Then I started getting woozy, which meant the sun was coming up. If I went outside, the sky would be turning gray. I hadn’t seen sunlight in a long time. It was like thinking about a hometown I couldn’t go back to. No use in dwelling on fond memories; they’d just depress me.
The diner where Jack set up the meeting was, indeed, brightly lit and public. When you were a vampire you learned where all the 24-hour restaurants were. Not because you needed to eat, but because sometimes you needed a place to hang out. A place to meet people at three in the morning. It didn’t matter if you were a vampire, you held on to some of the trappings of your old life. Whatever trappings you could in the middle of the night. My deep dark secret was that I hadn’t been much of a night person before.
Carter was already there. I may not have known what she looked like, but she was the only one there with her smart phone on the table, a notepad and pen waiting, and a casual business look that totally didn’t fit with the atmosphere, which had more of a homeless hipster college stoner vibe. She waved when we walked in, because two twenty-something pallid-faced guys dressed in black walk into a place after dark, of course they must b
e vampires.
We joined her at the booth she’d chosen, halfway down the row and with a good view of the front and back entrances.