Paranormal Bromance (Kitty Norville 12.50)

“I don’t know. He’s probably just grabbing a bite at the club.”

“Yeah, that’s probably it.”

We stared at each other a minute. There was nothing we could do. He went back to eBay and I went back to the sofa. I resisted an urge to check the front porch for a pile of ash.

That night, I did something I’d never done before. I listened to The Midnight Hour.

I usually had better things to do than listen to talk radio. I’d known about The Midnight Hour since it started. The host—that celebrity werewolf named Kitty, for real and not even joking—started the show at one of the local alt radio stations. I’d learned about it right away, one of these “Hey, have you heard,” rumors. I figured it’d last six months and then vanish. Or something terrible would happen to Kitty because, hey, she was a werewolf and they were kind of violent. More violent than vampires, even.

Six months later and the show was syndicated, which just showed you what I know. That was part of what blew all this out into the open, that led to me being able to go to a nightclub and tell someone I was a vampire and not have them laugh in my face.

The show started with theme music: Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Bad Moon Rising,” which was either incredibly silly or absolutely inspired.

“Good evening, true believers, I am Kitty Norville and this is The Midnight Hour. Step into my parlor, let’s have a chat or three.” She had a fast patter, a radio DJ enthusiasm to her bright voice. She definitely sounded like a Kitty; not so much like a werewolf. But then I tried to keep clear of the local werewolves. I’d met maybe two, and that was years ago. They were surly, suspicious, and kind of even looked like wolves, with broad shoulders and bushy eyebrows. I couldn’t picture what she must have looked like.

“Tonight, the recurring topic, the one everyone always seems to want to talk about, no matter how much we talk about it or how many times I say the same thing: vampires. Why people don’t want to talk about werewolves as much, I don’t know, they never seem to get as much attention, even though werewolves are so much more interesting as far as I’m concerned. I may be biased. My sound guy is making signs at me that yes, I am biased. Oh well. That’s what I get paid for. All right then: I want to hear from you, I want your calls. Are you dating a vampire and not sure what happens next? Are you a vampire and you’re thinking this has all gotten a lot more complicated than it really should be? I want to hear from you.”

What were the odds? My first time listening to the show, and it was like she was talking to me. With a morbid fascination, I listened. What kind of problems did other vampires have?

“Hello, first call of the night and you’re on the air.”

The caller was a woman who sounded young, but who really knew? “Oh, hi Kitty. Wow, thanks so much for taking my call. Anyway, I was wondering, how many vampires do you think sign up for online dating? Because I’d really love to meet a vampire, but I don’t even know where to start. So I was thinking of just putting it out there in my profile, you know?”

Kitty didn’t even hesitate. “A little advice for you: I wouldn’t go around advertising that you want to meet a vampire. Especially don’t if you’re looking to actually hook up with one. As I understand it, it’s kind of a turn off. It’s the crazy factor—you’re a bloodsucker, and here’s someone throwing herself at you to get her blood sucked. You gotta wonder if there’s something going on, you know? And I mean that in the nicest possible way.”

Jack notwithstanding. I wondered how I could get these two together.

“I don’t care about the blood sucking part, vampires are just so hot!”

Kitty sighed. “I can always tell the ones who’ve never met a vampire. Sure, they’re hot if you like donating blood.”

“It can’t all be about the blood, can it?” She sounded so sad.

“All right, I’ll take pity. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. You have to get yourself to a pretty good-sized city. There has to be enough population to actually support the local vampires, it’s a predator-prey ratio thing. Then find the hottest, sexiest nightclub you can. One with a lot of dark corners so you can’t really tell what’s going on. And then make yourself as appetizing as you possibly can.”

The caller sounded doubtful. “That sounds so… cliché.”

“It does, doesn’t it? Next caller, Petros from Miami, what’ve you got for me?”

Petros—he had to be a vampire. No way he wasn’t a vampire with a name like that.

“Well, Kitty, I’m a vampire, and I’ll get to my question in a minute but I have to argue with you about that call—not all vampires go to nightclubs looking for fresh meat. That advice was really quite misguided.”

“So what, should I have gone ahead and told her to put up a dating profile, so that a bunch of vampire wannabe fakers can take advantage of her? Because I guarantee that’s what would happen.”

“Well then maybe if there was some kind of online dating specifically for supernaturals. Does such a thing exist?”

“Not that I’ve been able to find, and trust me I do a lot of searching online for weird stuff. If there is one it’s probably pretty darned secret. Why—you thinking of starting one?”

There was an idea—but the liability on that kind of thing had to be through the roof.

“No, of course not, it just sounds so crass.”

“Did you have a question or am I hanging up on you now?”

“I—I think I’ve forgotten my question.”

“Then it must not have been important. Call back when you remember. Moving on now…”