Insatiable (6 page)

6:30
P.M
. EST, Tuesday, April 13
910 Park Avenue, Apt. 11B
New York, New York

Jon, staring at the computer screen, shrugged, took another sip of his Gatorade, and clicked
Learn more.

“Oh, yeah,” Jon said. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

Meena’s dog, Jack Bauer, hearing the sound of a human voice, jumped up from his dog bed and trotted curiously over to the couch to see what was happening. Jon tilted his bottle of Gatorade in the dog’s direction in a toast and kept reading happily.

“Done,” he said to Jack Bauer. “We are so joining the NYPD!”

Jack Bauer tilted his head questioningly, sat down on his haunches, and yipped.

“Yes.” Jon put down his Gatorade, picked up the phone, and dialed. As soon as the person on the other end lifted the receiver, he said, “Dude. We’re joining the NYPD.”

“The hell we are,” Adam said. “I’m about to be a father. I may need a job, but not one where I get my ass shot off. Did you know there’s a serial killer on the loose out there?”

“I’m sure there are several,” Jon said. He put his size-twelve feet on his sister’s coffee table. Jack Bauer, inspired by this development, leapt onto the couch, where he was strictly forbidden by Meena from sitting. Jon moved over a little to make room for him. “And we’re going to catch them. Because guess what? The New York City Police Department? Hiring. All you gotta be is over seventeen and a half years of age and under thirty-five. Bingo. That’s us.”

“Also crazy. Did you read that part? How somebody would have to be crazy to apply to be a cop in this freaking city?”

“Yes, in addition to a written and physical exam, there is a psych evaluation,” Jon said, glancing at his laptop. “And you might have some problems passing that part, seeing as how you were a mortgage-backed-security trader.”

“Are you done?” Adam asked. “Because I have to go now.”

“Yeah,” Jon said. “Okay, go to the NYPD website. I really think we should do this. We can do something to make a difference, Weinberg. We can arrest perps. We can help little abused children.”

“Listen to you,” Adam said. But Jon could hear clicking in the background and knew Weinberg was doing as he’d asked him to. “Perps. Like you know anything about perps. Have you been watching
The Wire
again?”

“I’m serious. Think about it. What did we do at our last jobs? Sure, we made a ton of cash, for other people and for ourselves. But did we really touch people’s lives in a meaningful way? No.”

“I beg to differ,” Adam said. “I handled the Alaska Teachers’ Union pension fund.”

“And,” Jon said, “what happened to it, Adam?”

Adam grumbled, “It wasn’t my fault.”

“Those teachers are gonna be fine,” Jon said. “Okay, probably not. But maybe getting laid off is a blessing in disguise. This could be our chance to give back what we lost. By helping people who are really in need.”

“And carry guns,” Adam pointed out. “Admit it, Harper. The part you like is the part where we get guns.”

“The thought that we would be issued firearms and permission to legally carry them did cross my mind,” Jon said. “But it’s really about helping people, Weinberg. Do you honestly just want to let this serial killer you’re worried about roam around free?”

“No,” Adam said. “I want to find a job doing what I’m trained to do. I would like to implement cash and derivatives strategies and execute trades while communicating market information and trends to other investment professionals within the firm.”

“Really?” Jon couldn’t hide his disappointment. “That’s the line you’re going with on the résumé?”

“That’s what I told the HR rep at TransCarta,” Adam said. “Which is the only place that seems to be hiring right now.”

“When you could be saving lives.”

“Let me ask you something,” Adam said. “Have you run this one by your sister?”

“What do you mean?” Jon asked defensively.

“I think you know what I mean,” Adam said. “I mean, have you told that bat-shit-crazy sister of yours that you’re thinking of applying for a job with the NYPD?”

“I don’t have to tell my sister everything I’m thinking about doing,” Jon said stiffly.

“Oh, yeah?” Adam laughed in an evil way. “Well, I’m not applying for a job with the NYPD unless your sister says she sees the two of us retiring as lieutenants or whatever.”

Jon said, with a spurt of irritation, “You should know by now it doesn’t work that way with her.”

“Yeah,” Adam said. “I guess if it did, neither of us would be in this situation, would we?”

Jon sighed. His sister’s gift had never exactly made life easier for him. Why couldn’t she have been able to predict winning lottery numbers, or which girl in the bar was most likely to sleep with him, or something actually useful? Hearing the ways in which he might conceivably die was interesting, Jon supposed.

But he’d rather have gotten rich. Or laid.

Jon heard the scrape of Meena’s key in the lock. Jack Bauer heard it too, and quickly leapt off the couch to return to his dog bed.

Jon said, “We’ll talk about this later. I gotta go,” to Adam, then hung up and took his feet off the coffee table.

Meena came in looking flustered and fresh faced, as she always did when she returned from anywhere. She asked, “Was Jack Bauer on the couch just now?”

“Of course not,” Jon said, getting up. “How was your day, dear?”

“It sucked. I met a girl on the subway I think is going to end up sold into white slavery and then killed.”

“Sweet,” Jon said sarcastically.

“Tell me about it,” Meena said. “And Shoshona got the head writer gig. And the network is mandating a crappy vampire story line, so my beautiful and totally awe-inspiring proposal about the bad boy with the police chief dad was completely dead on arrival.”

“Shoshona got the head writer gig?” Jon asked. “That blows. You gave the subway girl your card, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Meena said, throwing her keys into the little tray on the kitchen counter, which she’d started keeping there for that purpose after Jon finally pointed out that her psychic power was useless at finding the things she kept losing. “Hopefully she’ll call.”

“What about Taylor?” Jon asked. He tried to keep his voice casual. He’d had a crush on Taylor Mackenzie—whom his sister had pointed out many times was way too young for him—since Meena had first started writing for the show.

“She’s the one getting the new vampire boyfriend,” Meena said. “They’ve got Gregory Bane’s best friend coming in to read with her on Friday. He’s hot, apparently. I think I saw him leaving the office with Shoshona tonight. But it was mostly only the back of his head.”

Jon glanced at his reflection in the round antique mirror Meena had hanging above the dining table.

“
I’m
hot,” he said, admiring his own reflection. “What do you think? Don’t I look like vampire material to you?”

Meena snorted. “Right. Playing a chorus member in the musical
Mame
when you were in high school doesn’t count as acting experience. Especially since you only did it for extra credit to keep from getting kicked off the baseball team thanks to your D in Spanish.”

She shrugged out of her jacket and crossed the room to meet Jack Bauer, who’d run over to give her a welcome lick.

“And how’s my little man?” she asked. “Did you save the world today? I think you did. I think you saved the world from nuclear annihilation, just like you do every single twenty-four hours. Look at you. Just look at you.”

Jack Bauer was a Pomeranian-chow mix Meena had insisted on bringing home from the ASPCA the first time they’d ever set foot in it, “just to look,” after David had walked out on her and she’d been pretty much comatose with depression. The tiny mutt had been sitting in a big empty cage by himself, his huge brown eyes so filled with anxiety that Meena had remarked that, with his blond fur, he resembled Kiefer Sutherland during a particularly dramatic moment on the television show
24.

When the dog had fallen into her arms as soon as the cage door was opened, showering her face with grateful kisses, the inevitable adoption was sealed, and the name Jack Bauer stuck, because the anxious look in the mutt’s eyes rarely vanished all the way, unless he was lounging in the apartment by Meena’s side.

“He saved the world, all right,” Jon said. “He tried to hump a maltipoo in the small dog run at Carl Schurz Park.”

“My hero,” Meena cried, scooping the dog up and hugging him. “Keep showing your male dominance, even though you’ve been fixed.” She turned to Jon. “So, what did you do today?”

“I was totally going to make chicken,” Jon said. “But when I got to the store none of the chickens looked any good.”

“Really?” Meena said, going over to the couch and reaching for the remote.

“Yeah,” Jon said. “They were all past their expiration dates. It was like the Perdue delivery didn’t come in on time or something.”

“Let’s just order in,” she said. She’d flipped on the news. “We haven’t had Thai in a while.”

He felt a surge of relief.

“Thai sounds great. Or Indian.”

“Indian sounds good, too,” she said. “Oh, my God, we got invited to the countess’s on Thursday. If we keep the lights out,” she added, like this was a perfectly reasonable way to deal with the problem, “we don’t have to worry about them seeing that we’re home under the crack in the door.”

“Meena.” Jon loved his sister.

But she was totally and completely insane.

And she always had been.

Meena shook her head. “Jon. You know I can’t help but love her. But she’s trying to fix me up with some Romanian prince her husband’s related to. Come on.”

“A prince?” Jon raised his eyebrows. “Seriously? Is he rich?”

“I don’t want to meet a prince,” Meena said. She sounded mad. She
looked
mad. “I’m already having the worst week of my life, and it’s only Tuesday!”

Jon knew Meena well enough to know this wasn’t about Shoshona getting the job, or the girl she’d met on the subway, or even the show, which she adored.

“What,” he said flatly. “What did you see?”

“Nothing,” she said, throwing him a confused look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You know something,” Jon said. “You know what I’m talking about. Who is it about? Me? It’s about me, isn’t it? Just tell me. I can take it. When am I going? Is it this week?”

Meena looked away. “What? No. You’re fine. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jon shook his head. He didn’t think he was wrong. He’d lived with his kid sister long enough to recognize the signs.

She obviously knew something about somebody now…only who? And why wasn’t she saying?

“Is it Mom and Dad?” he asked. “I thought you said they were fine. I mean, relatively speaking.”

“They
are
fine.” Meena glared at him. “For two people who continue to whoop it up at happy hour every night down in Boca like they think they’re F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald.”

“Then I don’t get it,” Jon said. “Your crazy-ass millionaire neighbor who thinks she’s a countess invited you to a dinner party at her place to meet a real Romanian prince on Thursday night. And you’re telling me you don’t think you’re going to get any story ideas out of that? Are you serious?”

Meena looked at him, her big dark eyes luminous in the light from the sun setting just outside her windows, turning the sky from rosy pink to a delicate lavender. Finally she smiled.

“You’re right,” she said. “How could I miss such a fantastic opportunity, so rich with the promise of pretentious buffoonery for me to mock later on
Insatiable
? I have a professional duty to be there.”

“Absolutely,” Jon said.

“I’ll RSVP yes to the countess,” Meena said.

“Way to go.” Jon reached out to ruffle her short, boyishly cut dark hair. “I’ll go order us some samosas.”

Meena grinned and turned up the volume on the news, which was all about how they still hadn’t been able to identify any of the victims of what they were now calling the Park Strangler. They were urging any members of the public who might recognize the women to come forward.

“After all,” Meena said thoughtfully, clearly not paying attention to the information the grim-faced anchorwoman was doling out, “Victoria Worthington Stone’s dated plenty of doctors, lawyers, millionaires, shipping magnates, gangsters, murderers, maniacs, cops, cowboys, priests, and once even her own half brother—until she found out who he really was. It’s about time she dated a prince.”

“That’s the spirit,” Jon said, and started dialing.

6:30
P.M
. EST, Tuesday, April 13
West Fourth Street
Chattanooga, TN

A
laric Wulf wasn’t surprised to find that Sarah, like most women—and men—in love with a vampire, was initially resistant to the idea of giving up the address of her lover.

“Just tell me where he is, and I’ll let you live.”

Sarah had hedged for a while. Like most victims, she didn’t care anymore about her own life. Her brain was too nutrient deprived. She cared only about protecting her sire.

Until Alaric finally put his sword to her throat.

The Palatine Guard was listed in most encyclopedias and search engines as a now-defunct military unit of the Vatican, formed to defend Rome against attack from foreign invaders.

This was partly true: the Palatine Guard was a military unit of the Vatican.

But it was hardly defunct. And the invaders it had been formed to defend against weren’t foreign.

They were demon.

And the Guards weren’t defending just Rome from them, but the entire world.

Members of the Guard had different methods for getting victims of these demons, who were often besotted by their attackers, to talk.
Abraham Holtzman—currently the Guard’s most senior officer, who’d trained both Alaric and Martin—had always preferred deception. He’d flash a fake card from a fancy (fictitious) legal firm, explaining that he’d been hired by the vampire’s estranged family to deliver a large inheritance check.

Often the victim was so flustered by delighted surprise that she didn’t notice Holtzman had never even mentioned the vamp’s name.

That was because he didn’t know it.

But that was Holtzman. Alaric had always suspected that Holtzman could get away with this because he was so scholarly looking. His Jewish parents had been appalled when he’d gone to work for the Vatican, though Holtzman hadn’t converted. (Conversion was not a job requirement. It was difficult enough to find anyone able to keep his head while swinging a sword at a screaming succubus, let alone someone who was also a devoted Catholic. Palatine Guard members were of a wide mix of religions…even, like Alaric, complete nonbelievers.)

It helped Holtzman’s ruse, Alaric supposed, that he
looked
like a lawyer.

Still, there was nothing wrong with looking like a muscle-bound demon-hunter…especially if that was what one was. Alaric didn’t have degrees in anything, except chopping the heads off vampires and returning their victims to full humanity once more.

So Alaric didn’t waste time on ruses the way Holtzman did. Especially not when it came to Sarah. He got straight to the point…by applying Señor Sticky to her throat.

When she finally stammered, “Felix…Felix lives in a loft over an antiques store on West Fourth…but please…,” he grabbed her by the back of the neck and stuffed her into the passenger seat of his rental car. He didn’t need her texting her undead lover any warnings so Felix could call his vamp friends and set up a trap.

It wasn’t the most uplifting drive over to Felix’s place. Especially because Sarah sobbed most of the way and whispered, “Please, please…don’t hurt him. You don’t understand…he doesn’t want to be the way he is. He hates what he is. He hates that he has to…hurt me.”

“Yes?” Alaric glanced at her. He’d turned the car radio to the heavy metal station. He didn’t particularly like heavy metal, but he needed
something loud enough to drown out the sound of her sniffling. “So why do you let him do it, then?”

“Because,” Sarah said, sniffling, “he’ll die if I don’t.”

“You’re wrong about that,” Alaric said. “He can’t die unless someone stabs him with a wooden stake through the heart or cuts off his head. Or, alternatively, if someone shoves him into some direct sunlight or completely immerses his body in holy water. But then,” he added, throwing a glance her way, “you must know all this.”

“None of that’s true,” Sarah said. “He told me all those things were myths. Also about how vampires can live on animal blood. He said if they do that, they’ll die. That’s why he has to drink my blood. To stay alive.”

Alaric rolled his eyes. “Do you realize girls like you have been falling for that one for centuries? Vamps just don’t
like
animal blood. It weakens them. And they don’t look as nice after they’ve been drinking it for a while. And if they’re anything, vamps are vain. Human blood’s like filet mignon to them. So if he told you he’ll die if you don’t let him drink your blood, he’s a damned liar, in addition to being a putrid stinking woman-abusing soulless abomination.”

Sarah seemed to find his language objectionable, since this statement only made her weep harder.

Alaric felt a little bad about this. Holtzman was always telling him that he needed to work on his people skills more.

Accordingly, Alaric passed her a tissue from the little packet the rental car agency had left in the car.

“You’re mean,” Sarah said, blowing her nose into the tissue. “Felix isn’t a soulless abomination. He’s sensitive. He has feelings. He reads me poetry. Shakespeare.”

Alaric wanted to pull the car over so he could throw up, but they didn’t have time. The sooner they got this over with, the sooner he could go back to the hotel; order some room service; have a nice, relaxing bath (in the world’s tiniest tub, which had those grainy strips attached to the bottom, so guests wouldn’t slip in the shower—this was Alaric’s number one pet peeve about less-than-five-star hotels; he was a grown man, he knew how to stand without falling in the tub); and go to bed.

Then, tomorrow morning, he’d fly to New York, check into the Peninsula, find the prince, and kill him.

This made him quite happy to think about.

“This,” Alaric explained to Sarah in what he thought was a kindly voice, “isn’t love you’re feeling. Only dopamine. Because Felix isn’t like anyone else you know. Being a creature of the night, he’s new and exciting and activates a neurotransmitter in your brain that releases feelings of euphoria when you’re around him…especially because you know you can never actually be together, and he seems complicated, and perhaps even sensitive and vulnerable at times. But I can assure you: he’s anything but.”

“How dare you?” Sarah demanded hotly. “It isn’t dopa…whatever! It’s love!
Love!
”

Alaric wanted to argue. Vampires were incapable of love—human love—because they didn’t have hearts. Well, technically, he supposed they
possessed
hearts, since that’s what he had to stab a stake into in order to kill them. But their hearts didn’t pump blood or beat.

So how could they feel love, much less return it?

But arguing with a teenager over the semantics of vampire love didn’t seem like a winning proposition to him.

“Oh, come on, then,” Alaric couldn’t help saying finally, noticing that his passenger continued to sob quietly to herself. “It’s not all bad.”

“How?” Sarah demanded, flashing an aggravated look at him. “How is this not all bad? You’re going to try to kill my boyfriend!”

“True,” Alaric said. They were nearly to the address she’d given him. “But look at it this way. He promised to turn you into a vampire, didn’t he?”

“Yes,” Sarah said, sounding a bit surprised. “He said he was going to turn me, just as soon as he got his strength up. Then I’ll be beautiful, like him. And immortal.”

“Right,” Alaric said a little sarcastically. He knew this Felix had no intention whatsoever of turning her. Doing so would deprive him of his primary food source.

What Alaric was sure the vampire would do instead was string her along for a few more months; then, when she grew too sickly from anemia to be of any more use to him, he’d move on to some healthier host. He’d probably tell her it was him, not her…that he needed time to “think about things.” Then he’d disappear.

Then, after her broken heart—and even more broken body—had healed, Felix would probably find his way back to Sarah—and to Chattanooga—and start the cycle all over again. Unless Sarah found the strength to put her foot down and tell him no, she would
not
be abused in this way.

But that wouldn’t happen. The vamps were just too alluring. And their victims just never seemed to think they deserved better than the treatment they were given. It was almost as if they were afraid to put their foot down, because they thought they’d never get anything better….

But that was what Alaric was for. He would be Sarah’s foot, since she didn’t have the strength, or willpower, to put her own down. He’d make sure she got something better and stop the cycle from continuing. Permanently.

Alaric found a parking space…except that it was beside a fire hydrant.

It didn’t matter. They wouldn’t be there that long.

“Supposing he did turn you into one of his kind,” he said, switching off the engine and turning to look at her, “then me, or one of my fellow officers, would only have to kill you eventually, because that’s what we do. We’re demon killers. And trust me, you really wouldn’t want any of us on your tail. We’d be your worst nightmare. It’s much better this way. This way, you’ll stay a human, and maybe you can go to college and get a degree and a fun job doing something you like. Or maybe you can find some nice guy back at the Walmart you can go out with, even marry. And, assuming you want them, you two can have a few babies, and grow old and watch
them
have babies, and be grandparents someday. Wouldn’t you like that? You could never have babies with Felix.”

“Vampires can have babies,” Sarah informed him. “I read it in a book.”

“Yes,” Alaric said, feeling annoyed. “Well, in books, the vampires struggle nobly against themselves not to bite you, because they love you so much. But that didn’t exactly happen, did it? So the books aren’t really very accurate, are they?”

Sarah glared at him.

“I hate you,” she said.

Alaric nodded. “I know,” he said. He reached across her and opened the car door. “Get out.”

She looked at him blankly. “What?”

“Go on,” he said. “I know you’re dying to run ahead and give lover boy the heads-up. I’m going to let you. Tell him I’ll let him go, on one condition.”

Her entire demeanor changed. Suddenly, she was all that was accommodating and pleasant.

“What condition?” she asked eagerly.

“Tell him that if he tells me where I can find the prince, I’ll let you both go. Then you can run off and have vampire babies together.”

Alaric couldn’t say the last part without laughing, though he did try, remembering that he was supposed to be working on his people skills.

Sarah evidently didn’t notice. “Oh, thank you!” Sarah was smiling as she scrambled from the car. “Thank you so much!”

“Not a problem,” Alaric said. He watched as she ran across the sidewalk and up to an unobtrusive-looking door beside the display window of an antiques shop inside an industrial-looking building. He gathered his things as she pressed an intercom. Then he calmly strode to the alley, where, as he’d suspected, there was a fire escape. He leapt for the rusted metal ladder as he heard Felix’s voice asking through the intercom, “Who is it?”

Then the buzzer went off, letting Sarah inside the building.

It only took Alaric a moment or two to climb to the roof of the building, and less than that to secure a grappling hook to the side of the building, then fasten the end of the rope to his belt.

A few seconds later, Alaric jumped from the roof, crashing through Felix’s plate-glass living room windows…

…just as the vampire was putting on a black cloak to shield himself from the sun, preparing to make a run for it. Sarah screamed as UV-protection glass went flying everywhere.

The vampire, desperate to get out of the sun’s rays, which could be fatal to him, threw himself at the front door.

“Now, Felix,” Alaric said calmly. “You can’t go that way, either.”

A second later, Felix was shrieking. This was because Alaric had hurled a glass vial filled with holy water at the door. It burst over the knob, singeing the vampire’s fingers as he reached for it. He drew his hand away, hissing with pain and cradling his smoking fingers.

“I thought you said you’d let him go if he told!” Sarah shouted with outrage.

“And I will,” Alaric said, smiling at her. He turned toward Felix. “So,” he said. “Where can I find your prince?”

Felix, who looked like a handsome boy of eighteen or twenty—and appeared from his taste in wall posters to have a fondness for the band Belle and Sebastian—curled back his lips to reveal a set of extremely strong white teeth. His incisors were unnaturally long and, true to his species, not unpointy.

“I’ll never tell, demon hunter,” he growled.

Then he threw back his head and let out a hiss, his long tongue darting in and out of his mouth like a lizard’s tail.

Sarah looked shocked. She’d apparently never heard her boyfriend use that tone of voice before. Or seen his eyes glow red.

“Felix,” she cried. “Just tell him! He said he’d let you go if you told.”

When Felix swung his glowing red eyes and twisting tongue toward her, she staggered back a step. “Why did you bring him here, you stupid whore?” Felix demanded.

Horrified, Sarah started crying all over again.

Alaric took her tears as his cue that it would be all right with her if he performed his duty. So he stepped forward, swinging Señor Sticky free of its scabbard.

It was over in a matter of seconds. To his credit, the vampire put up a good fight.

But cornered by sunlight on one side and holy water on the other, he had nowhere to go. There was no escape.

Alaric didn’t give him a chance for any last words. In his experience, vampires didn’t really have anything that interesting or insightful to say. It was all Shakespeare and emo.

When he was done, he looked at the girl. She was curled up in a ball over by the broken window, weeping softly to herself.

But—and Alaric knew he wasn’t imagining it—her hair had already begun to recover its luster, and there was color in her cheeks that hadn’t been there before.

She’d be fine in a few days, if her parents fed her enough protein.