The Secret Guide to Dating Monsters: Secret McQueen Story (3 page)

Fame was power, and if there was anything vampires craved as much as blood, it was power. So, periodically, a vampire would step into the spotlight, claim a little fame, then vanish. For Holden it had been his job at
GQ
. For Charlie Conaway, it was becoming the biggest movie star in the world.

Most mysterious Hollywood deaths have a supernatural explanation. Marilyn Monroe, for example? Not a vampire, but I knew where you could find her most Friday nights, alive and well, and she hasn’t aged a day.

Conaway wouldn’t be the first high-profile rogue to come from the West Coast. There had been a rogue in the Hollywood Hills during the sixties who gained a lot of notoriety among the vampire community and had to be taken out because he was a wee bit too enthusiastic about his collection of actresses.

The vampire got away with his escapades for over a decade because he was systematic and almost totally untraceable. He would find an actress who was past her prime and in the twilight of her career. These women were usually unstable to start with, so when he used the thrall to further corrupt their weak minds, the results were disastrous. The vampire’s long-term hold on his chosen victims manifested itself as erratic behavior and was often blamed on alcohol or drug addiction.

When he got tired of feeding from, or playing with, the current object of his desire, he would dispose of her. The West Coast Tribunal had to cover up almost a dozen such messes. Some, like Diana Barrymore and Marie McDonald, actually committed suicide after being abandoned by their supposed master. Others, like Dorothy Kilgalen, Barbara Bates and most famously Dorothy Dandridge, were already dead, and their passings were covered up as suicide so as to not implicate the vampire community.

Poor Linda Darnell had it the worst of any of them. She was so badly broken by the vampire, her house was set on fire to rid the council of the problem. Too bad she’d still been alive at the time.

The result was always the same, though—someone famous died in an incredibly suspect way. The vampire was put down before the Manson family started their reign of terror, otherwise I would have had my suspicions about his part in that.

Some in the vampire community liked to invent rumors, too, speculations about stars they believed to be among the undead. I didn’t know how many times I’d heard stories about a vampire Elvis, but I’d believe that one when I saw it.

But Charlie freaking Conaway? How was I supposed to kill my generation’s Harrison Ford?

“Whatcha got there?” Tyler asked, rejoining the table.

“Just something Holden gave me.” I didn’t see the need to lie if I could avoid it.

“Charlie Conaway?” He looked over at the card and photo. “I liked him in that movie about the con artist.”

“
Con Long Gone
,” I recalled. “Yeah, it was definitely better than those vampire movies.”

Tyler snorted. “Vampires are so cliché. Hollywood needs a new horse to beat to death.”

Well, Conaway was going to see his curtain call pretty soon, so in that sense, Tyler would get his wish.

“I always preferred movies from the fifties and sixties myself. Or the old Cary Grant, Katharine Hepburn ones.” I folded up the card and put it back in my purse. Cary Grant the vampire would have been awesome, I mused.

Tyler wasn’t so easily sidetracked. “What are you doing for Charlie Conaway?”

“He’s in town for something. We’re on retainer to make sure none of his more…enthusiastic fans cross the line.”

“I thought you worked for a pest-control company.” His voice did nothing to hide that he knew it was total bullshit.
Keats and McQueen Private Pest Control
was what Keaty and I had printed above the door of our office to detract from unwanted business.

“If you think that, Mercedes wasn’t very forthcoming with you.”

“She might have said something different.”

“And what did she say?”

“I’d like to hear about your job from you.”

Sneaky. I sipped the water we’d been provided, the outside of my glass dewed with condensation from being ignored for so long. “I’m a private investigator. I do a little retrieval work on the side.” It’s amazing how honest you can be if you tweak your language a certain way.

“Retrieval?” Tyler wore a grin he was trying unsuccessfully to hide.

“I guess you could call me a part-time bounty hunter.” I set my water back down and pushed a bit of gristle through a pool of
au jus
on my otherwise empty plate while I judged his reaction. He didn’t laugh, so kudos to him for that.

“You don’t, um, look…” He struggled to find a polite way to phrase it.

“Don’t see a lot of little blondes running around snatching up fugitives?”

He tapped his nose, then pointed to me. I’d hit it right on the head.

“Well, Detective Tyler, there’s more to me than meets the eye.”

“Now
that
I believe.”

It was my turn for a phone to interrupt things. I heard it buzzing incessantly in my bag, but I didn’t need to check the screen to know who was calling.

Excusing myself from the table, I headed to the ladies’ room, feeling a little high on the success of the date thus far. I owed Mercedes a giant present. And probably an apology. The ladies’ room was empty, so I didn’t bother going into a stall before pulling my cell phone out of my purse.

Dialing Holden’s number by heart, I checked under the stalls as it rang a second time, just to be sure I was alone. The fourth ring sounded louder, and the fifth sounded downright stereophonic.

Shifting my gaze to the mirror because I didn’t want to turn around even though I knew what to expect, I still let out a sharp yelp of surprise to see Holden standing behind me in the reflection in the mirror. On the far wall of the washroom a tiny window was ajar, and I was pretty sure it had been closed when I came in.

“Son of a—”

He silenced his phone and walked to the bathroom door, locking us in.

“Enjoying your evening?”

“As a matter of fact I—”

“Have you looked at the envelope?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

I turned around and stared at him, slack-jawed. And
what
? I shrugged with my hands open, palms up, and looked at him like he was crazy. He’d given me a job; I would do it. That’s what I did, and it’s why the council kept me around even though they considered me a lesser citizen for being only half-vampire. With the exception of Holden, none of them knew about my werewolf blood, and it was better for everyone involved that it stayed that way.

“He’s in Times Square,” Holden told me.

“He’s
where
?”

He didn’t repeat himself. I faced away from him and glanced at the mirror instead, checking to see if my hair and makeup were still passable. I had to admit I was looking pretty foxy. Holden tired of waiting for me and leaned against the counter to my right, fixing me with one of those stares meant to enthrall a human into doing his bidding. He and I both knew vampire mind tricks didn’t work on me, so the expression was just his way of scolding me for my insolence.

“
What
?” I snapped, once I got sick of him glowering at me.

“I just told you where to find your target, and you’re touching up your gloss.”

“You can’t seriously expect me to go kill the biggest star in America in the middle of Times Square in August. You’re handicapped if you think that’s going to work.”

“Charles isn’t a fool, Secret. He’s an old vampire, and he knows how the council works. He’s not going to let you get him alone. You have to take your opportunities when and where they arise.”

“You’re nuts.”

“If he gets away, the Tribunal will not be pleased.” The translation of this was,
you’ll be punished
.

I sighed and rinsed my hands in the sink, out of habit rather than necessity. When I shook the water off, it beaded on the pink granite counter. Someone tried the door, then knocked with a plaintive, “Hello?”

“One second!” I replied.

Holden scowled at the interruption. At least he was back to being himself, because happy-go-lucky Holden kind of freaked me out.

“I’ll go. But I
will
find a way to get him away from the crowds,” I offered. The vampire made a
pft
sound, which I resented. “Now get
out
.” I pointed to the window, and without seeing him move, he was gone. All I heard was the click of the pane closing behind him.

Chapter Four

Getting out of the remainder of the date wasn’t going to be as easy as I hoped. If I hadn’t liked Tyler, I would have feigned a headache or just pretended to be tired so I could call it a night. The major difficulty for me was I hadn’t liked somebody this much in a long time, and I wasn’t ready to end our encounter quite yet.

“Want to go for a walk?” I asked.

“Sure.” He paid for the check in spite of my attempt to go Dutch. He wouldn’t let me touch the bill, slapping my hand playfully away when I reached for it. “Where do you want to go?” he asked, after the waitress returned his credit card.

“There’s a great pub just off Times Square.” I saw him flinch, and it wasn’t hard to imagine what he was thinking. Times Square in the summer is a tourist trap of epic proportions. “I promise it’s worth it.”

It would also have a substantial line. If I timed everything right, I would leave him holding our place while I looked for a bathroom, or some other invented distraction. Then I could run off, kill Charlie and be back before Tyler made it to the front of the line. If I didn’t get too much blood on me, there might even be a good-night kiss in my future.

I was a genius.

I was an idiot.

Tyler had agreed, with little argument, to hold our place in line at McCarthy’s Pub. He’d tried to insist he come with me while I looked for a public bathroom, but I told him not to be ridiculous. I was a big girl, and I’d lived in the city for five years. If I couldn’t go to the bathroom alone by now, I was probably in trouble.

Getting Tyler distracted had been easy. Finding Charlie, as it turned out, was easier. Too bad Holden had been dead on the money when he’d warned me the rogue wouldn’t be alone.

Charlie Conaway was standing dead center on the red steps above the TKTS, the discount outlet for Broadway shows, with a crowd of shrill, love-addled girls and a few excited middle-aged men surrounding him on all sides. He was signing autographs and posing for photos, like the good little A-lister he was.

“Mother
fucker
.” I seethed as I watched throngs of onlookers surge towards the median to get closer to the excitement. You’d think no one in New York had ever seen a celebrity before.

Bloody tourists.

I didn’t have all night to wait for the crowd to die down. I had a date to get back to, and I needed Charlie out of the way if I was going to be able to consider the night a complete success. I didn’t think the Tribunal would accept date night as a viable excuse for not executing the rogue, so I’d have to get close to him and convince him to leave with me.

Doing my best to amplify my cleavage with the aid of the dress, and giving my hair a quick flip for extra body, I abandoned my typical expression of detached annoyance and replaced it with one of vapid sluttiness. It was a look I’d honed well after years of acting as vampire bait in bars. I hoped an easy target was universally appealing to vampires.

I also hoped he wouldn’t be able to smell death on me like some could. The werewolf in me confused most noses, so even the strongest vampires didn’t always know I was one of them. They usually wrote me off as human, which I was counting on Charlie doing. Non-vampire paranormals, like the fae or others, sometimes caught a whiff of the vamp in me.

They said I smelled like death.

The vampires sometimes said I smelled like a dog.

I just counted on neither group figuring out why.

And I was counting on Charlie Conaway being too wrapped up in his own fame to notice me for what I really was.

I worked my way through the crowd without much difficulty. I might not be able to move with the same stealthy speed as a full vampire, but I’m fast, light on my feet, and I see openings no human would consider going through. By the time someone has realized I’ve brushed past them or bumped into them, I’m already gone.

Up the steps, there were three teenaged girls between my target and me. He was politely listening while one of them, between gasping sobs, explained she thought they were destined to get married.

“I love you!” she said, her voice reaching octaves I’ve never heard in the human register. Her friends all squealed in unison behind her, and I wondered if they were protesting or being supportive. If there is any pack mentality that frightens me more than werewolves, it’s teenaged girls.

Charlie smiled, told her he appreciated the offer but couldn’t marry her, then let her get tears and Lip Smackers all over him while he posed for a picture. Part of me found myself liking him, even if the niceness was an act. When the flash faded from the camera, he surveyed the crowd for the next onslaught and caught my eye instead.

I was so surprised he’d seen me I almost forgot my act. I brushed my hair back over my shoulder and smiled at him—sly, with just the hint of sex. Human men were suckers for that sort of smile, but it was exposing my neck that I expected would get the most reaction.

The one-two punch did the trick. Charlie stopped attending to his tween-horde and crossed the bleacher-style riser towards me. It earned me one hell of a dirty look from the girl with a picture of his face on her shirt who he’d been about to speak to.

“Hi.” His voice was a low purr that somehow managed to carry over the din of the crowd.

“Hey.” I added a little extra breathiness to my greeting and batted my eyelashes for good measure.

He fixed me with a probing stare. His eyes were wide and hazel with a lovely bedroom sleepiness to them. I knew instantly what he was doing.

“You want to meet me somewhere quieter,” he said. It wasn’t a question. He was telling me.

Cocky bastard assumed he’d enthralled me with one look. I didn’t like Charlie anymore.

“Yes.” Let him think I was a dumb human sheep. It would make my job that much easier. No one expects their food to fight back. He’d never see me coming. “Anywhere.”