Deadtown

phone’s been a little busy lately, but we will get back to you. Maybe. If you’re a human calling to offer yourself to Juliet for her pleasure, please call her private number. If you don’t have that number, worse luck for you. If you’d like to schedule an interview with Vicky, please contact the office of her lawyer, Alexander Kane. Otherwise, leave us a message at the beep.”

“You told reporters to call Kane’s office? Please tell me you didn’t.”

“Why not? He’d want to handle it.”

“Yeah, but he’ll expect me to actually talk to them. I’m not going to do that.”

“Not even Oprah?”

I sighed. “Kane’s going to be impossible about this.”

“Speak of the devil.” Juliet was staring at the TV.

I shifted my gaze back to the screen. It showed the same studio where the BU professor had blathered on, but the set now had two chairs, occupied by Kane and an older, well-dressed man. In his black suit and red tie, Kane looked spiffy but tired. He must’ve been up all night trying to run damage control. “Turn up the volume, will you?” I said.

Juliet pointed the remote and hit a button.

The announcer was finishing up the introductions. Besides Kane, the other guest was Seth Baldwin, the anti-PA candidate for governor. Baldwin must’ve been over fifty, but he was a young-looking fifty. Even in his tailored, pin-striped suit, the man boasted an athletic build. His hair was full and a rich brown, and his strong jaw made him look like he could’ve worn the white hat in an old Western. This was the candidate Kane would do almost anything to stop, and there they sat, side by side in the studio. This should be interesting. I sat down and grabbed a handful of popcorn.

The tape from inside the bar rolled yet again, zooming in as Kane yanked at the female zombie’s ankles. Then the scene switched back to the studio, showing Kane and Baldwin, two handsome professionals who might’ve had lunch together on Beacon Hill—if they could make it through a lunch without killing each other. Then the screen showed Brenda Salamanca, the interviewer. A pert blonde in a sunny yellow suit, Brenda sat in the Washington bureau, interviewing them remotely. Better to keep your distance from those werewolves, I guess. And politicians could be scary, too.

Even though the tape had played about a zillion times in the ten minutes I’d been home, Brenda shook her head, artfully furrowing her brow, as though she’d never seen it before. “Shocking,” she said, lip gloss glistening on her frowning mouth. Then she flipped her expression over to a bright smile and said, “Mr. Kane. As we saw on the tape, you were there last night. Why don’t you tell us your view of what happened?”

The camera zoomed in on Kane’s face. A label appeared at the bottom of the screen: Alexander Kane: attorney and werewolf. Kane looked straight into the camera. His expression was serious yet appealing. He resembled a therapist or a favorite professor, someone who knew how to listen and cared about what you had to say. He told me once he’d spent years perfecting that look for the courtroom.

“Thank you, Brenda. Yes, I will. Last night I took two previously deceased humans—”

“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