“You mean zombies,” Baldwin cut in. The camera pulled back to show them both.
“No, Mr. Baldwin, I mean what I said: previously deceased humans. They’re as human as you are. The only difference is that you had the good fortune to be out of town when the plague struck.”
“Woo-hoo! Score one for Kane!” Juliet licked her finger and made an imaginary mark in the air.
“One thing that I want to emphasize,” Kane continued as the camera centered on his face again, “is that most of what happened last night does not appear on that tape. A number of events combined to create a complex situation.” From there, he gave his account of what had happened. He was a master at giving his story just the right spin. Nothing he said was untrue, but the way he told it, the fight wasn’t really anyone’s fault. Instead pointing out that a human had started the whole thing, he suggested that college hijinks had, unfortunately, gotten out of hand—many of us could remember what it was like to have a few too many at that age. Fights break out every day. It was just one of those things.
I thought he did a good job. He managed to put the incident into a context that most humans could understand, without placing any blame. As a PA, the last thing he wanted to do was make it look like he was blaming anyone. It made the norms nuts when the monsters tried to come across as victims of society. For some reason, most people didn’t buy the idea that a “victim” could tear your throat out while bouncing bullets off its hide.
Back in the Washington bureau, Brenda also seemed impressed. “Thank you, Mr. Kane, for reminding us that there’s often more to the news than meets the eye.” She flicked on her high-beam smile again. “Our next guest is Seth Baldwin, who’s challenging current Massachusetts governor Paul Sugden in next week’s election. It’s a tight race. Mr. Baldwin. You’ve made no secret of the fact that you’d like to make Paranormal Americans illegal in Massachusetts. How do last night’s events in Boston’s so-called New Combat Zone affect your position?”
Baldwin’s face filled the screen. Close-up, his face looked craggier, more weathered, than it did from a distance. As he nodded, it was clear that he’d also practiced his serious-but-caring look.
“He’s hot,” Juliet said.
“You think everybody’s hot.”
She arched an eyebrow at me. “And your point is?”
I shushed her so I could hear what Baldwin had to say.
“I believe that there’s a place for monsters in the world, but Massachusetts is not that place. Mr. Kane says the tape doesn’t show us everything. But what it does show is clear, irrefutable evidence that humans and monsters cannot mix.” I waited for Kane to jump in and correct Baldwin’s monsters to Paranormal Americans, but he remained silent, listening. He wasn’t going to let Baldwin blow off his terminology the way he’d blown off zombies earlier. Smart.
“Monsters”—Baldwin shot Kane a look—“whether we’re talking about zombies, vampires, or, yes, even werewolves like Mr. Kane here, represent a danger to human beings. What the world saw on that tape was no ordinary bar fight.” Obligingly, CNN played the tape again, Baldwin’s voice intoning over it like the narrator in a movie. “Yes, humans do fight each other. I’m not saying that fighting is right, but it’s part of human nature. Notice I said humannature. But I think I speak not only for myself, but for every human being who ever lived, when I say that never, ever have I seen a simple bar fight in which one human being attempted to eat another.”
Juliet grinned at me. “The man has a point,” she said. “I wouldn’t mind having him for a snack. What do you think his blood type is? I’d bet anything he’s an A neg. He looks juicy.”
Baldwin shook a finger in the air to drive home his point. “Last night’s attack was on a human being who was in that bar trying to help the monsters. Mr. Kane admits he hired the man to make a paid political advertisement against my campaign. And that attack merely shows that humans and monsters cannot live together. This country belongs to human beings. It was founded by human beings, on human values.”
“Aaron Burr was a werewolf,” Juliet remarked.
I stared at her. “Who?”
Juliet rolled her eyes. “Don’t they teach you any history in school? In the early nineteenth century, he was in a duel with, um, what’s-his-name.”
“Are you talking about Alexander Hamilton?”
“Yeah, him. Hamilton had a regular bullet in his pistol, not silver. So Burr couldn’t lose.”
I wondered if Kane knew that the guy on ten-dollar bills had been outwitted in a duel to the death by one of his kind. Human values, indeed.
Baldwin was still speaking. “I don’t say kill the monsters, but I dosay let them start their own country. Somewhere far from human civilization. Antarctica, maybe. But I promise, if the people of Massachusetts elect me as their governor, we will never see a repeat of last night’s tragedy. No more ‘Monsterchusetts’—my administration will restore Massachusetts to the great commonwealth it was before these inhuman . . . creatures started demanding special privileges.”
“Mr. Baldwin—” Kane began, but the picture went back to Washington. Brenda beamed at the camera, thanking them both for being there, then introduced the weather report. A giant weather map appeared, accompanied by another glossy female with sprayed-stiff hair and a fixed smile.
“Wow,” Juliet said, squinting at the weather girl. “Look at all those teeth. She’d make a great vampire.” She muted the TV again, and the silence sounded a whole lot better than all that yammering. “I wonder what Kane’s doing now,” she mused. “Do you think he’s ripping out Baldwin’s jugular?”
“I’m sure he wants to. But you know Kane, always trying to prove that the monsters are as good as the humans. Better, even. They’re probably shaking hands and thumping each other on the back, saying they’ll have their people get in touch.” Even if that’s precisely what they were doing, Kane was furious right now—no doubt about that. In any debate, he believed it was essential to have the last word. And Brenda had cut him off before he could rebut Baldwin.
“Who do you think won?” Juliet asked. “I gave them one point each.”
“Baldwin turned the whole thing into a campaign speech. That guy’s smart. He knows an opportunity when he sees it. I bet he gained himself some votes today.” I glanced at Juliet, who covered her mouth as she yawned. “You don’t seem too worried about what will happen to us if he wins.”
“Another purge against the monsters?” She yawned again, as if the subject bored her. “What’s to worry about? I’m one of those vampires who always lands on her feet, like a cat.” She stretched, looking very much like a cat, and put the popcorn bowl on the coffee table. “That’s it for me. I’m going to resume the shroud.”
She paused in the doorway, silhouetted against the hall light. “Why didn’t Oprah’s people call me? I looked damn good sitting at the bar.”
“Next time she does a show on vampire beauty tips, I’m sure you’ll be first on the guest list.”
After Juliet left to crawl into her coffin, I stretched out on the sofa, hugging the popcorn bowl for solace. I munched popcorn while CNN started the tape yet again. Then I picked up the remote and turned off the TV. I couldn’t face seeing that disaster another time. Poor Kane. His political ad had turned into a public relations nightmare. Baldwin had milked the sensationalism for all it was worth, and he’d gotten in the last word. All things considered, Kane must be in a very bad mood.
So how was I going to tell him I was still on the job for Frank Lucado?