The girls know the drilclass="underline" They look behind the followers, put trembling hands to their mouths, open their clothes up just a little more. Alpha dog, he’s on autotrack, can’t tear his eyes away. But the followers? They see the girls looking over their shoulders, and they turn around to see whassup. Which is when I let out a sound like a king cobra, the hiss from Hell, causing their blurry, drunken eyes to get as big as saucers and their stupid mouths to drop open like turtles. At which point, I slam their slack-jawed heads together like the pair of cantaloupes they really are. As they go down, alpha dog, who hears the cobra bit, is turning around to check it out, tearing his eyes away from the girls at last, not seeing them lunge for him, grabbing his arms, pulling them behind and up, not even aware they’re doing it because all he can see is my face, my painted, hooded death’s-head face looming down at him, my eyes coming unhinged as I cross them ever so slightly and bare my glistening teeth, and then-here’s the topper-I fucking roar.
He faints. They always do. Get the guy sober, he’d laugh at the thought of a vampire. But drunk? And after the girls have set him up? It’s pure fear, helped along by the girls doing their weird vampire shit. He turns around, suddenly he can’t move, his buddies are flat on the ground, and he’s looking up at the biggest human-shaped thing he’s ever seen, which looks, sounds, and acts like every vampire nightmare he’s had since he was a little kid, and it’s right fucking there, fangs and all, right in his face!
They faint. And sometimes they leak a little. Yes, they do. The girls run, of course, bursting with laughter. I follow, but not before I do some things to the big man on campus. I usually don’t really injure him, but he might just hurt a little-when he wakes up, of course. This last time, we took his buddies’ pants down, arranged the two of them in the 69 position, and called the cops just for grins. But usually, we just fly out of there, running down the block behind the bar, back to the lair. A cop car saw us once, the guy driving so surprised when he got a look at me that he rear-ended a parked car, which gave us time to disappear through the St. John’s campus and back to their shitty little apartment-excuse me, Goth lair. Must stay in character, we must. And when we get back there, guess who’s really excited now? Heh-heh.
We’ve done it a couple times this year, all to different town slobs. You’d think the word would get around. On the other hand, I’d bet it’s not like they want to talk about it, right? Like: Hey, man, listen to what happened to us last night. Like: You remember when we went after those Johnnie bitches in their vampire costume? And then…I don’t think so.
I know, I know: One of these nights, the guy won’t faint. Or it’ll be some dude we’ve done before. But I’m ready for that, too. In fact, I’m getting more ready for that possibility every day, especially now that June week is approaching. Just between you and me, I’m planning a little solo op. Maybe go lurking in town on my own this time. Let a previous victim get a quick look. See if I can get him to chase me. See if I can get him to catch me down in my tunnels. See what happens then. More good training for my next incarnation in the glorious Corps.
It’s like I want to experience some maximum violence before I leave here. Maximum. Like what happened to that plebe. That was certainly extreme, don’t you think?
4
As of Wednesday morning, Ev still hadn’t heard back from Julie. All through his eight o’clock class, he’d been anxious to call Liz DeWinter to see if she’d heard anything. At the break, he tried her office, but she was already in court. Frustrated, he went down to talk to the HSS division director, Captain Donovan. Ev technically worked for Professor Welles, the chairman of his department, but Captain Donovan was the senior military officer. Growing increasingly anxious, Ev had felt he needed a military opinion, not a civilian one. But the captain had not been helpful. He’d heard about the incident, of course, and also about Julie’s involvement. He’d been polite but firm: Let the Academy do its investigation. That way, we get the facts. Then we focus on any required actions. Ev expressed his concerns about the administration possibly using Julie as a scapegoat, but the captain had dismissed that notion. Let them do their investigation. It was the Navy way.
He’d gone back to his office to get ready for the next class, more uneasy than ever, and really wishing Julie would call. He was sitting at his desk, correcting some papers and chewing absently on some folded-up mystery meat, when Liz called.
“Talked to Julie,” she said. “Kind of anticlimactic. Her big meeting with the company officer turned out to be a nonevent. He just wanted her to know that the visit from NCIS was a room inspection, quote, unquote.”
“Sounds to me like your presence has been a shot across their bows, then.”
“That was the point, Ev.”
“I talked to my boss this morning,” he said. “Checking to see what was filtering through the military network.”
“And?”
“And he said he’d heard there was an investigation, that Julie was involved, and that she had a lawyer.”
Liz thought about that for a moment. “That was quick. So, he’s in a neutral corner?”
“He’s a division director,” Ev said. “That makes him part of the Academy administration.”
“As opposed to being an ally of yours.”
“Well, he was friendly, and sympathetic. I think.”
“Okay. That brings me to something I need to say to you, and it goes along with what I told Julie last night when I dropped her off. You need to stop talking to people about this. I know I can’t order you to do this, of course, but as Julie’s attorney, I should be the primary interface with anyone in the Academy administration from here on out.”
He thought about it and then sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. So anything I hear or find out about should come to you, then?”
“Yes. And don’t go playing detective. The next step is up to them.”
“But she hasn’t done anything!”
She ignored his protest. “We wait until they want to see her again.”
“I just hate not knowing,” Ev said. “Since Joanne died, Julie’s well…well, more important.”
Then she surprised him. “Would you like to have dinner with me?” she asked.
“What? Why, sure. Uh, do you have a favorite place?”
“How about Maria’s? Tonight. Say seven? Subject, of course, to any breaking developments over in the Yard.”
“Roger that. Seven it is. If you have to cancel, call my home number. In the meantime, I’ll keep away from Bancroft so they won’t catch me looking in the windows of the interrogation cell.”
She laughed. “See you at seven, Ev.”
He checked his schedule. He had two more classes that afternoon, a fuller day than usual, which was probably for the best, considering his state of mind. He was surprised when Liz called him again just after three o’clock.
“Hey, counselor,” he said. “Change your mind about dinner already?”
“No. But have you heard anything more from Julie?”
“No,” he said, sitting up as he sensed the urgency in her voice. “Has something happened?”
She hesitated. “I need her to call me as soon as possible, Ev. I’ve left her a message to that effect, but she may contact you first.”
“What’s going on, Liz?”
“There’s a rumor circulating through law-enforcement circles that the midshipman suicide case isn’t as clear-cut as everyone wants us to believe.”
He didn’t understand. “What’s that got to do with Julie?”
“Hopefully, nothing. And I’ve got to tell you, cops are the worst rumor mongers there are. Let’s make a deaclass="underline" no Dell case this evening, okay? I’ll see you later.”
After dinner, they walked up the hill from the Colonial seaport area toward State Circle. Liz’s eighteenth-century house was framed inside an iron-fenced compound just off State Circle. They entered a tree-lined, cobblestoned drive through two leaning stone columns that were engraved with the name Weems. Her house was three stories of ivy-covered Flemish lock brickwork outside, with glowing, if somewhat uneven, heart pine floors, plaster and lathe walls, leaded windows, ornate crown moldings and wainscoting, and sixteen-foot ceilings inside.