Stalking the Others by Jess Haines

fast food joint after a night of beer and karaoke—which I’m never doing again, thanks—coupled with a fierce craving for something sweet and full of carbs. Pancakes smothered in syrup and butter sounded like both an awesome and disgusting idea right about now. Belgian waffles would be even better.
    Odd. Breakfast for me usually meant coffee and some eggs or yogurt and granola.
    Putting my cravings down to a side effect from the drinking, I rubbed my temples and sat up with a groan. The shade over the window was pulled, and it seemed too dark in the room. Turning on the lamp at my bedside was a horrible idea. Pain instantly shot from my retinas all the way to the back of my skull, making the pounding worse.
    Getting up to shamble over to the bathroom seemed like a good idea until I stood up. The swaying and the dizziness wasn’t fun, but it passed after I gave myself a moment to adjust.
    Splashing my face at the tap helped marginally. Rinsing away the taste of roadkill and drinking a little cold water helped more. Though I still squinted against the lights, I felt much better, more refreshed.
    Throwing on some clothes, I gave the belt a passing glance, curled as it was on top of the dresser like a snake poised to strike. Putting it on could wait until tonight.
    My muscles protested the stairs, but I made it to the kitchen in good time considering I was walking like someone had wound barbed wire through all the joints in my legs. The pain and soreness eased away by the time I got to the bottom.
    Strangely, the scent of Italian food—tomatoes and oregano, garlic and parmesan—drifted my way long before I opened the door. Jack and Nikki were puttering around, doing dishes, and clearing things off the table, counters, and stove. Bo and Keith were at the table, picking at bowls of ice cream, Keith’s nose buried in a book. Clearly I’d just missed a big meal.
    Nikki smirked at me over her shoulder before shoving a container into the fridge. “Sleeping beauty’s awake.”
    Jack glanced my way, then went back to rinsing out a big pot. Bo and Keith waved me over, and I edged past Nikki and Jack to sit with them. Bo pushed a bowl and a container of cookie dough ice cream my way. It wasn’t waffles, but it would do.
    “What the hell time is it? How long was I out?”
    Keith shrugged. “It’s a little past 8:30. Nikki said she found the empty bottle of Grey Goose on the dresser. We all thought it’d be better to let you sleep it off.”
    I turned about six shades of red, covering my face with my hands. Bo and Nikki laughed at me. All I could think of was the day lost to me. The hours that could have been spent hunting. The ticking time bomb I was becoming.
    “Don’t worry about it,” Bo said, elbowing me lightly to get me to stop hiding my face.
    Still feeling like an ass, I kept my head down, pushing my hair back just enough so the curls wouldn’t fall into my bowl or stick to my spoon when I shoveled a bit into my mouth.
    Speaking around the bite of sugary bliss, I shook my spoon at Jack. “I know you wanted to wait for news from your contacts in the city before we went back, but I need to go to SoHo. I’ve got an idea.”
    Jack was not impressed with my spoon. “You realize that’s just asking for trouble, don’t you? Why don’t we send Bo or Patrick? The police and vampires aren’t looking for them.”
    “Mostly because I know what I’m looking for. If we left now, it’d be dark, and I doubt anyone at Chaz’s gym knows what happened between us. Maybe I can bluff my way into his stuff and find some records that might help. Or see if anybody overheard where he went. The guys there know me, and they’re more likely to talk to me than somebody they’ve never met.”
    He frowned at me, leaning his hip against the sink and scrubbing his chin absently despite the suds covering his fingers. The serious look in his eyes went so well with his soap beard, I couldn’t suppress a giggle.
    Jack’s frown deepened,