The Vampire Stalker

Chapter 5

SOUNDLESS, VOICELESS NIGHTMARES ROLLED from one scenario to another. In the worst one, vampires crowded on the fire escape outside my window, begging me to let them in. And I decided to open the window to talk peace. That's when they pounced, of course.

I hated when I was stupid in dreams.

Sunday morning. I woke up from a fitful sleep — the type of sleep where I wasn't sure I'd slept at all. How could I relax knowing Alexander was out there and in danger?

I'd seen him only briefly last night. He'd woken up just before sunset, eaten the leftover casserole Mom had made, then went out into the night. When Mom looked at me questioningly, I told her the same story I'd told Chrissy about his job at the all-night convenience store.

I felt a wave of relief when I saw him on the living room couch. He must have finished Otherworld already, because he was reading The Mists.

"Hi," I said, smiling. He was so handsome it made my chest tighten.

His mouth curved into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. There was no need to ask how his night of hunting had gone. "Good morning."

I spotted a newspaper on the table next to him. The headline read: C OINCIDENCE? It showed a picture of Friday night's crime scene alongside a picture of Elizabeth Howard.

"I found this outside your neighbor's apartment," he said, handing me the paper. "Astonishing story, isn't it? The Otherworld phenomenon is so great that the author is being criticized for somehow inciting the killings."

I sat down beside him and read the article. Chrissy had been right. People were connecting the release of The Mists with the vampire killings. Some were even calling for the Otherworld books to be banned.

"It is difficult to comprehend," he said.

I nodded. "Just because Elizabeth Howard writes about vampires doesn't mean she should be blamed for the killings."

"I meant the popularity of the series is difficult to understand. The better part of it is romantic drivel. James and Hannah as star-crossed lovers? It insults my sensibilities."

"It's different when you're looking in from the outside. People like melodrama and ... romance."

"Melodrama and romance? Is that why people care about what's going on in my world?"

"That's part of it. Personally, your story line of avenging your family is the one I find most interesting, not James and Hannah's relationship."

He scowled. "What he possibly sees in her, I'll never know."

"Hey, I'd like to show you something. Come with me." I went to the den and pressed the button to boot up the computer, then gestured for him to sit down. I pulled up a chair for myself.

He gazed at the computer in fascination. "Is this similar to the one in the living room? With live news reports?"

"No, that's a TV. A computer is like ..." How the heck did I explain a computer? "It's a machine that holds a lot of information. Almost anything you'd find in a library or newspaper is on here. And it's also like a typewriter, except you can see the words on the screen instead of on paper."

"Extraordinary," he muttered, glancing behind the monitor, as if looking for a projector of some kind.

I typed my log-in and my screen came up. The desktop background was a picture of the cover of The Mists of Otherworld.

He looked at me. "Do all of these computer machines have this picture on them?"

"No, I put it there myself. You can put whatever picture you want on your computer."