Bigfoot on Campus Page 2

  “You’re, uh. You’re into bad boys, eh?”

  “Maybe,” she said, lowering her voice and drawing the word out a little, as if it was a confession. She spoke with a very faint drawl. “Plus, I like meeting new people from all kinds of places, and you don’t exactly strike me as a local, darlin’.”

  “You dig dangerous guys who are just passing through,” I said. “Do you ever watch those cop shows on TV?”

  She tilted back her head and laughed. “Most boys don’t give me lip like that in the first few minutes of conversation.”

  “I’m not a boy,” I said.

  She gave me a once-over with those pretty eyes, taking a heartbeat longer about it than she really needed. “No,” she said. “No, you are not.”

  My inner nonmoron kept on stubbornly ringing alarm bells, and the rest of me slowly became aware of them. My glands thought that I’d better keep playing along. It was the only way to find out what the girl might have been interested in, right? Right. I was absolutely not continuing the conversation because I had gone soft in the head.

  “I hope that’s not a problem,” I said.

  “I just don’t see how it could be. I’m Connie.”

  “Harry.”

  “So what brings you to Norman, Harry?”

  “Taking a look at a player,” I said.

  Her eyes brightened. “Ooooo. You’re a scout?”

  “Maybe,” I said, in the same tone she’d used earlier.

  Connie laughed again. “I’ll bet you talk to silly college girls like me all the time.”

  “Like you?” I replied. “No, not so much.”

  Her eyes sparkled again. “You may have found my weakness. I’m the kind of girl who likes a little flattery.”

  “And here I was thinking you liked something completely different.”

  She covered her mouth with one hand, and her cheeks got a little pinker. “Harry. That’s not how one talks to young ladies in the South.”

  “Obviously. I mean, you look so outraged. Should I apologize?”

  “Oh,” she said, her smile widening. “I just have to collect you.” Connie’s eyes sparkled again, and I finally got it.

  Her eyes weren’t twinkling.

  They were becoming increasingly flecked with motes of molten silver.

  Cutie-pie was a frigging vampire.

  I’ve worked for years on my poker face. Years. It still sucks pretty bad, but I’ve been working on it. So I’m sure my smile was only slightly wooden when I asked, “Collect me?”

  I might not have been hiding my realization very well, but either Connie was better at poker than me, or else she really was too absorbed in the conversation to notice. “Collect you,” she said. “When I meet someone worthwhile, I like to have dinner with them. And we’ll talk and tell stories and laugh, and I’ll get a picture and put it in my memory book.”

  “Um,” I said. “Maybe you’re a little young for me.”

  She threw back her head and gave a full-throated laugh. “Oh, Harry. I’m talking about sharing a meal. That’s all, honestly. I know I’m a terrible flirt, but I didn’t think you were taking me seriously.”

  I watched her closely as she spoke, searching for the predatory calculation that I knew had to be in there. Vampires of the White Court—

  * * *

  “Wait,” Dean said. “Vampires of the White Castle?”

  I sighed. “White Court.”

  Dean grunted. “Why not just call her a vampire?”

  “They come in a lot of flavors,” I said.

  “And this one was vanilla?”

  “There’s no such thing as…” I rubbed at the bridge of my nose. “Yes.”

  Dean nodded. “So why not just call ’em vanilla vampires?”

  “I’ll … bring it up at the next wizard meeting,” I said.

  “So the vampire is where all the blood came from?”

  “No.” I sighed. “This kind doesn’t feed on blood.”

  “No? What do they eat, then?”

  “Life-energy.”

  “Huh?”

  I sighed again. “Sex.”

  “Finally, the story gets good. So they eat sex?”

  “Life-energy,” I repeated. “The sex is just how they get started.”

  “Like sticking fangs into your neck,” Dean said. “Only instead of fangs, I guess they use—”

  “Look, do you want the story or not?”

  Dean leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on his desk. “You kidding? This is the best one in years.”

  * * *

  Anyway, I watched Connie closely, but I saw no evidence of anything in her that I knew had to be there. Vampires are predators who hunt the most dangerous game on the planet. They generally aren’t shy about it, either. They don’t really need to be. If a White Court vampire wants to feed off a human, all she really has to do is crook her finger, and he comes running. There isn’t any ominous music. Nobody sparkles. As far as anyone looking on is concerned, a girl winks at a boy and goes off somewhere to make out. Happens every day.

  They don’t get all coy asking you out to dinner, and they sure as hell don’t have pictures in a memory book.

  This was weird, and long experience has taught me that when the unexplained is bouncing around right in front of you, the smart thing is to back off and figure out what the hell is going on. In my line of work, what you don’t know can kill you.

  But I didn’t get the chance. There was a sharp whistle from a coach somewhere on the field, and football players came rumbling off it. One of them came loping toward us, put a hand on top of the six-foot chain-link fence, and vaulted it in one easy motion. Bigfoot Irwin landed lightly, grinning, and continued directly toward Connie.

  She let out a girlish squeal of delight and pounced on him. He caught her. She wrapped her legs around his hips, held his face in her hands, and kissed him thoroughly. They came up for air a moment later.

  “Irwin,” she said, “I met someone interesting. Can I collect him?”

  The kid only had eyes for Connie. Not that I could blame him, really. His voice was a basso rumble, startlingly like River Shoulders’s. “I’m always in favor of dinner at the Brewery.”

  She dismounted and beamed at him. “Good. Irwin, this is…”

  The kid finally looked up at me and blinked. “Harry.”

  “Heya, Irwin,” I said. “How’re things?”

  Connie looked back and forth between us. “You know each other?”

  “He’s a friend,” Irwin said.

  “Dinner,” Connie declared. “Harry, say you’ll share a meal with me.”

  Interesting choice of words, all things considered.

  I think I had an idea what had caused River’s bad dream. If a vampire had attached herself to Irwin, the kid was in trouble. Given the addictive nature of Connie’s attentions, and the degree of control it could give her over Irwin … maybe he wasn’t the only one who could be in trouble.

  My, how little Irwin had grown. I wondered exactly how much of his father’s supernatural strength he had inherited. He looked like he could break me in half without causing a blip in his heart rate. He and Connie looked at me with hopeful smiles, and I suddenly felt like maybe I was the crazy one. Expressions like that should not inspire worry, but every instinct I had told me that something wasn’t right.

  My smile probably got even more wooden. “Sure,” I said. “Why not?”

  * * *

  The Brewery was a lot like every other sports bar you’d find in college towns, with the possible exception that it actually was a brewery. Small and medium-sized tanks stood here and there throughout the place, with signs on each describing the kind of beer that was under way. Apparently, the beer sampler was traditional. I made polite noises when I tried each, but they were unexceptional. Okay, granted I was probably spoiled by having Mac’s brew available back at home. It wasn’t the Brewery’s fault that their brews were merely excellent. Mac’s stuff was epic, it was legend. To
ugh to measure up to that.

  I kept one hand under the table, near a number of tools I thought I might need, all the way through the meal, and waited for the other shoe to drop—only it never did. Connie and Irwin chattered away like any young couple, snuggled up to one another on adjacent chairs. The girl was charming, funny, and a playful flirt, but Irwin didn’t seem discomfited by it. I kept my responses restrained anyway. I didn’t want to find out a couple of seconds too late that the seemingly innocent banter was how Connie got her psychic hooks into me.

  But a couple of hours went by, and nothing.

  “Irwin’s never told me anything about his father,” Connie said.

  “I don’t know much,” Irwin said. “He’s … kept his distance over the years. I’ve looked for him a couple of times, but I never wanted to push him.”

  “How mysterious,” Connie said.

  I nodded. “For someone like him, I think the word ‘eccentric’ might apply better.”

  “He’s rich?” Connie asked.

  “I feel comfortable saying that money isn’t one of his concerns,” I said.

  “I knew it!” Connie said, and looked slyly at Irwin. “There had to be a reason. I’m only into you for your money.”

  Instead of answering, Irwin calmly picked Connie up out of her chair, using just the muscles of his shoulders and arms, and deposited her on his lap. “Sure you are.”

  Connie made a little groaning sound and bit her lower lip. “God. I know it’s not PC, but I’ve got to say—I am into it when you get all caveman on me, Pounder.”

  “I know.” Irwin kissed the tip of her nose and turned to me. “So, Harry. What brings you to Norman?”

  “I was passing through,” I said easily. “Your dad asked me to look in on you.”

  “Just casually,” Irwin said, his dark eyes probing. “Because he’s such a casual guy.”

  “Something like that,” I said.

  “Not that I mind seeing you,” Irwin said, “but in case you missed it, I’m all grown-up now. I don’t need a babysitter. Even a cool, expensive one.”

  “If you did, my rates are very reasonable,” Connie said.

  “We’ll talk,” Irwin replied, sliding his arms around her waist. The girl wasn’t exactly a junior petite, but she looked tiny on Irwin’s scale. She hopped up, and said, “I’m going to go make sure there isn’t barbecue sauce on my nose, and then we can take the picture. Okay?”

  “Sure,” Irwin said, smiling. “Go.”

  Once she was gone from sight, Irwin looked at me and dropped his smile. “Okay,” he said resignedly. “What does he want this time?”

  There wasn’t loads of time, so I didn’t get all coy with the subject matter. “He’s worried about you. He thinks you may be in danger.”

  Irwin arched his eyebrows. “From what?”

  I just looked at him.

  His expression suddenly turned into a scowl, and the air around grew absolutely thick with energy that seethed for a point of discharge. “Wait. This is about Connie?”

  I couldn’t answer him for a second, the air felt so close. The last time I’d felt this much latent, waiting power, I’d been standing next to my old mentor, Ebenezar McCoy, when he was gathering his strength for a spell.

  That pretty much answered my questions about River Shoulders’s people having access to magical power. The kid was a freaking dynamo of it. I had to be careful. I didn’t want to be the guy who was unlucky enough to ground out that storm cloud of waiting power. So I answered Irwin cautiously and calmly.

  “I’m not sure yet. But I know for a fact that she’s not exactly what she seems to be.”

  His nostrils flared, and I saw him make an effort to remain collected. His voice was fairly even. “Meaning what?”

  “Meaning I’m not sure yet,” I said.

  “So what? You’re going to hang around here butting into my life?”

  I held up both hands. “It isn’t like that.”

  “It’s just like that,” Irwin said. “My dad spends my whole life anywhere else but here, and now he thinks he can just decide when to intrude on it?”

  “Irwin,” I said, “I’m not here to try to make you do anything. He asked me to look in on you. I promised I would. And that’s all.”

  He scowled for a moment, then smoothed that expression away. “No sense in being mad at the messenger, I guess,” he said. “What do you mean about Connie?”

  “She’s…” I faltered, there. You don’t just sit down with a guy and tell him, “Hey, your girlfriend is a vampire, could you pass the ketchup?” I sighed. “Look, Irwin. Everybody sees the world a certain way. And we all kind of … well, we all sort of decide together what’s real and what isn’t real, right?”

  “Magic’s real,” Irwin said impatiently. “Monsters are real. Supernatural stuff actually exists. You’re a professional wizard.”

  I blinked at him, several times.

  “What?” he asked, and smiled gently. “Don’t let the brow ridge fool you. I’m not an idiot, man. You think you can walk into my life the way you have, twice, and not leave me with an itch to scratch? You made me ask questions. I went and got answers.”

  “Uh. How?” I asked.

  “Wasn’t hard. There’s an Internet. And this organization called the ‘Paranet’ of all the cockamamie things, that got started a few years ago. Took me like ten minutes to find it online and start reading through their message boards. I can’t believe everyone in the world doesn’t see this stuff. It’s not like anyone is trying very hard to keep it secret.”

  “People don’t want to know the truth,” I said. “That makes it simple to hide. Wow, ten minutes? Really? I guess I’m not really an Internetty person.”

  “Internetty,” Irwin said, seriously. “I guess you aren’t.”

  I waved a hand. “Irwin, you need to know this. Connie isn’t—”

  The pretty vampire plopped herself back down into Irwin’s lap and kissed his cheek. “Isn’t what?”

  “The kind to stray,” I said, smoothly. “I was just telling Irwin how much I’d like to steal you away from him, but I figure you’re the sort who doesn’t play that kind of game.”

  “True enough,” she agreed cheerfully. “I know where I want to sleep tonight.” Maybe it was unconscious, the way she wriggled when she said it, but Irwin’s eyes got a slightly glazed look to them.

  I remembered being that age. A girl like Connie would have been a mind-numbing distraction to me back then even if she hadn’t been a vampire. And Irwin was clearly in love, or as close to it as he could manage through the haze of hormones surrounding him. Reasoning with him wasn’t going to accomplish anything—unless I made him angry. Passion is a huge force when you’re Irwin’s age, and I’d taken enough beatings for one lifetime. I’d never be able to explain the danger to him. He just didn’t have a frame of reference …

  He just didn’t know.

  I stared at Connie for a second with my mouth open.

  “What?” she asked.

  “You don’t know,” I said.

  “Know what?” she asked.

  “You don’t know that you’re…” I shook my head, and said to Irwin, “She doesn’t know.”

  * * *

  “Hang on,” Dean said. “Why is that significant?”

  “Vampires are just like people until the first time they feed,” I said. “Connie didn’t know that bad things would happen when she did.”

  “What kinda bad things?”

  “The first time they feed, they don’t really know it’s coming. They have no control over it, no restraint—and whoever they feed on dies as a result.”

  “So she was the threat that Bigfoot dreamed about?”

  “I’m getting to it.”

  * * *

  Irwin’s expression had darkened again, into a glower almost exactly like River Shoulders’s, and he stood up.

  Connie was frowning at me as she was abruptly displaced. “Don’t know wh—oof, Pounder!”


  “We’re done,” Irwin said to me. His voice wasn’t exactly threatening, but it was absolutely certain, and his leashed anger all but made the air crackle. “Nice to see you again, Harry. Tell my dad to call. Or write. Or do anything but try to tell me how to live my life.”

  Connie blinked at him. “Wait … wait, what’s wrong?”

  Irwin left a few twenties on the table, and said, “We’re going.”

  “What? What happened?”

  “We’re going,” Irwin said. This time, he did sound a little angry.

  Connie’s bewilderment suddenly shifted into some flavor of outrage. She narrowed her lovely eyes, and snapped, “I am not your pet, Pounder.”

  “I’m not trying to…” Irwin took a slow, deep breath, and said, more calmly, “I’m upset. I need some space. I’ll explain when I calm down. But we need to go.”

  She folded her arms, and said, “Go calm down, then. But I’m not going to be rude to our guest.”

  Irwin looked at me, and said, “We going to have a problem?”

  Wow. The kid had learned a lot about the world since the last time I’d seen him. He recognized that I wasn’t a playful puppy dog. He realized that if I’d been sent to protect him, and I thought Connie was a threat, that I might do something about it. And he’d just told me that if I did, he was going to object. Strenuously. No protests, no threats, just letting me know that he knew the score and was willing to do something about it if I made him. The guys who are seriously capable handle themselves like that.

  “No problem,” I said, and made it a promise. “If I think something needs to be done, we’ll talk first.”

  The set of his shoulders eased, and he nodded at me. Then he turned and stalked out. People watched him go, warily.

  Connie shook her head slowly, and asked, “What did you say?”

  “Um,” I said. “I think he feels like his dad is intruding on his life.”

  “You don’t say.” She shook her head. “That’s not your fault. He’s usually so collected. Why is he acting like such a jerk?”

  “Issues,” I said, shrugging. “Everyone has a parental issue or two.”

  “Still. It’s beneath him to behave that way.” She shook her head. “Sometimes he makes me want to slap him. But I’d need to get a chair to stand on.”