Author's Note: Apologies for the length of time between chapters; apparently, juggling four fics at once wasn't such a great idea (but they will all continue to be updated until they are complete!). That, and I've been sick the last few days, and that'll sap your creativity in a heartbeat. Anyway, enjoy chapter 2 - and would a couple reviews kill y'all?
How many launch parties did one book need?
In the case of Storm Fall, the highly anticipated finale of Richard Castle's best-selling Derrick Storm series, the answer was apparently at least three. So he played the part, waving to his adoring masses while the DJ played some bass-heavy beat he didn't recognize and waiting for the open bar to be, well, open.
His posture stiffened when a leggy blonde approached him, Castle's smile turning into a grimace. He had two days' worth of stubble on his cheeks, and truth be told, the shades were hiding bloodshot eyes. Not that Castle was drunk or hung over – merely sleep-deprived.
Storm Fall had been a chore to write, and he was still feeling the effects of it.
The blonde in question – not an overly amorous fan so much as a preening and pushy publisher who also happened to be one of his ex-wives – leaned in, gritting through a smile. "I really hope you know what you're doing."
"Please, Gina," Castle gritted his own teeth, continuing to wave as the flashbulbs went off. "If this is another one of those You shouldn't have killed off Storm lectures, can it wait until I've at least had a few drinks?"
Gina tugged on Castle's arm, leading him into a dark corner away from the revelers. She leveled him an annoyed – if not altogether menacing – glare. "You're doing this to spite me, aren't you?"
"O-kaaay." Castle lifted his sunglasses and rested them atop his head. "Is this blood-sucking ex-wife Gina I'm talking to, or blood-sucking publisher Gina? Cause half the time, I can't tell the difference."
"Black Pawn is very concerned, Richard." Gina straightened the lapel on Castle's black blazer, her lower lip curling into a faux-pout. "Your manuscript for Storm Fall was almost two months late, and it required more revisions than usual. Not to mention, you're killing off one of the company's most profitable characters—"
"My character." Castle pushed Gina's arm away, his face morphing into a scowl. "Which means I can do whatever I want with him – including kill him, if I decide writing him is no fun anymore."
Gina scoffed. "Fun? You type on a keyboard and play laser tag with your daughter for a living. How much more fun do you need?"
His jaw set in annoyance, Castle had a ready-made retort when his phone rang. Thankful for the momentary reprieve, he glanced at the screen, his face visibly brightening when he saw his daughter's name on the display.
Flashing Gina one last biting, sarcastic grin, Castle pushed his way out of the back exit, breathing a sigh of relief once the constant thumping of the bass was little more than a muffled thud. He strolled into a back alley, careful to avoid puddles from that afternoon's rain shower as he pressed the phone to his ear.
"Pumpkin! Your timing is exquisite."
"Another fight with Gina, dad?"
"I wouldn't call it a fight," the writer protested, twirling on the ball of his right foot. "Just more crap about me killing off Derrick Storm and…do I really need three launch parties for a book? I mean, shouldn't 'hey, there's a new Richard Castle book' be enough by now?"
"Not if you wanna get trending on Twitter."
"I don't care about Twitter," Castle was practically whining at this point. "I want writing to be fun again. I want to stop feeling like I'm going through the motions with everything."
"Just be glad she's not asking for your next project."
"Yet." Castle huffed. "How you doin', pumpkin. You get your homework done?"
"Duh." The sound of laugher on the other end of the line relaxed Castle immensely, and he couldn't help but smile. "Just checking up on you now, making sure I don't have to expect someone else here in the morning."
"No." Castle shook his head. "No, I don't think that'll be an issue. In fact, I probably won't be out too much longer. Might even make it home before you go to bed."
"You alright, dad?"
"Yeah, sweetie." Castle smiled, though even he had to admit it was far from convincing. "Just tired. I'll be home soon. Love you."
As soon as Castle hung up – and was busy trying to concoct a story to tell Gina about why he was bailing so soon on his own party – a loud crashing sound around the corner caught his attention. But it wasn't until he heard a blood-curtling scream that Castle truly flinched with a start, pocketing his phone and running off in the direction of the sound.
His instincts told him to stop, to turn away, but one thing Castle was never any good at was listening to his instincts. But once Castle rounded the corner and saw a male form hunched over a woman in a black cocktail dress, her head tossed back and her arms limp at her sides, he wondered if maybe doubling back was the prudent call.
Then Castle noticed the male figure with his face buried in the side of the woman's neck. Frowning, curiosity threatening to get the best of him, Castle slowly approached. He tried to keep his steps silent, thankful for the soft soles of his dress shoes, but as soon as inadvertently kicked aside a candy bar wrapper, the male figure rose with a grunt.
Castle stopped in his tracks once the male figure glanced over his shoulder. Yellow eyes framed by pale skin and harsh ridges, unlike anything Castle had ever seen before, and once the male figure dropped the woman to the ground and turned to approach Castle, the writer saw fangs in his mouth and blood on his lips.
"Holy Jesus!" Castle stumbled backwards, his brain telling him to flee even as his legs tangled up with themselves. The monster closed the distance between them far sooner than Castle would've expected, and when the male figure grabbed the writer's lapels, Castle could feel the fabric ripping.
The man snarled, and Castle gagged at the heavy stench of blood and death.
The creature snarled again, bearing its fangs. Of all the ways Richard Castle thought he'd eventually meet his end, in a dark alley at the teeth of a vampire wasn't one of those ways. In any other circumstance, it would make a great story.
"NYPD! Hands in the air!"
Startled by the outburst, and somewhat out of habit, Castle flung his arms into the air. The creature had released its grip on him, just as startled by the interruption. Castle glanced up from where he was on his back, seeing a tall, leggy woman with short hair holding a gun in both hands, the badge on her hip clear as day despite the darkness.
Once the creature looked up, and the woman got a better look at its demonic visage, she holstered her gun and reached behind her to produce a large wooden stake. The woman lunged at the monster, tackling it to the ground as Castle backed himself away from the fray. He was now content to just watch from the sidelines.
The woman got in several haymakers before the vampire used what little leverage it had to flip her onto her back, and now they were pummeling each other within inches of Castle. He watched in part awe, part disgust, eager for the last remnants of that stench to fade away. The writer even allowed himself a glance down the far end of the alley, sighing in relief as he saw the woman – the monster's original target – running into the night with a hand clasped to the side of her neck.
The creature leaned in with a snarl, before the woman headbutted it. The vampire growled and covered its nose with both hands, which was all the opening the woman needed as she jammed the large hunk of wood into the monster's chest. Shock registered in the creature's feral eyes, and it gaped down at the weapon in shock before exploding in ash and dust.
The stake fell to the concrete. Castle, not sure what else to do at this point, stumbled to his feet before extending an arm to the woman. She took it with a grimace, rising to her feet as she brushed the ashes off of her white button-down and black slacks. Castle noted her black heels with a raised eyebrow, but said nothing.
"Hey, uh…" He swallowed and chuckled. "Thanks, that was, uh…wow."
"Oh, you know," The woman huffed with a shrug, confident she'd gotten as much of the ash off as she could for now. "No big."
"No big?!" Castle scoffed. "Finding out vampires are real? I'd say that's very big!"
"Well, now you know." The slightest hint of a teasing grin came across the woman's face, but it was gone pretty much as soon as it appeared. "Just…no more dark alleys, okay?"
As the woman turned to walk away, Castle rushed toward her and stopped in front of her. "Whoa, whoa…hey." He placed his hands in front of himself. "Listen, miss, I appreciate you saving my life and all, and I was wondering if there was a way I could repay you. My name is Richard Castle, and—"
"I know who you are." Kate Beckett took one of Castle's hands into her own, shaking it and grinning slightly at how he cringed when she squeezed. "Detective Kate Beckett, NYPD."
Castle's eyes widened again. "Detective?!" He glanced over his shoulder. "After that display back there, that's all you're gonna give me? Detective?"
"That's all you need to know." Kate brushed past him, making sure his back was to her before another grin pulled onto her face, this one much fuller than the last. "You better get home now, Mr. Castle. Don't wanna chance another run-in. Oh, and by the way?" She glanced over her shoulder. "I should've let that thing eat you, killing off Storm like that."
Castle released another huff of frustration as he watched Kate wander off into the night, paying particular attention to the confidence in her stride and the way her hips swayed back and forth. Even the woman who just saved his life was giving him hell for his most recent career move – it was almost as if it wasn't his name atop the front cover anymore.
Almost like "New York Times Bestselling Author" didn't mean anything anymore, either.
Turning to leave the alley, Castle stopped when he saw the hunk of wood lying on the ground. He knelt down to pick it up, grimacing when his fingers found the remnants of the vampire she'd just killed. He wiped the stake off as best he could before returning to his feet, turning around and holding it up in his grasp.
"Hey, you forgot your…" He frowned, realizing she was gone. "…stake."
Pocketing the weapon on the inside of his blazer, and deciding he just had to see this girl again, Castle fished for his phone and swiped his thumb over the touchscreen several times. He left the alley with the phone pressed to his ear, deciding he'd deal with Gina in the morning. Right now, he had to get home. For the first time in months, Richard Castle was going to write – not because he had to, but because inspiration had struck him.
The line finally connected after several rings, the dull tone interrupted by a lethargic and borderline annoyed British voice.
"Bloody hell, what time is it?"
Castle cringed as he crossed the street, glancing over his shoulder again. "Sorry. I keep forgetting you're five hours ahead of me."
"Richard?" Castle heard shuffling on the other end, as if the person on the other end had tossed the covers aside and was now sitting up in bed. "Richard Castle? What are you-?"
"I knew it! I knew they were real!"
"I'm sorry?"
"Vampires!" Castle's outburst elicited strange looks from a couple walking the opposite way along the sidewalk, but he ignored their glance. Castle was roughly three blocks from home, and he was practically jogging there now, with how excited he was. "I saw one tonight. About as up close and personal as one can get and still be alive to tell about it."
"Well, then I say you're rather fortunate, Richard. But why couldn't this wait until a more…hospitable hour?"
"Because I wasn't lucky," Castle lowered his voice, though the enthusiasm still carried. "I was saved…by a woman who fought like a cross between Black Widow and Van Helsing."
"Are you sure?"
"I have her stake in my pocket as we speak." As if sensing the voice on the other end would protest or express some form of worry, Castle placed his free hand in front of himself, though he knew the man on the other end wouldn't see it. "She left without it. I'd like to give it back to her."
"What's her name?"
"Beckett," Castle sighed. "Kate Beckett. She said she was with the NYPD."
Silence hung on the line as Castle crossed the last block and a half to his loft, and as he pushed his way into the lobby, the writer checked his phone to make sure the connection was still secure as he pressed the button to summon the elevator.
"Rupert." Castle checked over his shoulder again. "Rupert, what's going on?"
"Are you interested in hearing a bedtime story, Richard? I think you might like this one."