Once Bitten, Twice Shy (16 page)

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Authors: Jennifer Rardin

Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Fantasy

BOOK: Once Bitten, Twice Shy
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"What then?"

"I'm sorry I have to stop you telling a story that was so hard to start. But we have to go.
Now
!" I grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the shadows, onto a sidewalk lit by street lamps and some other source my new vision appreciated but could not pinpoint. I led him to the corner where we stood facing a stoplight, the music from a heavy metal band blatting through the walls of the bar behind us.

"What is it?" Vayl asked as we waited for traffic to clear.

"Hard to describe." I squeezed his hand, trying to stay calm, to separate new shades of neon and the screaming street music from the barely leashed panic that made me feel like jumping out of my skin. "That song," I finally said, "by Lynyrd Skynyrd. Remember the words?"
Oooh that smell
.

"Yes," Vayl said quietly, his eyes darting around the street, fixing every person, every street sign and park bench in his mind.

"That's it. I'm smelling that smell, the slow descent into misery and helplessness. And beside that, the scent of vampires. Something foul is going down behind Club Undead."
And I'm afraid to go look
.

But when the light changed we moved. Halfway to an alley that festered like an infected sore behind all those festive lights and decorations, I began to cough. The closer we got the more the coughing turned to gagging. By the time we reached the first dumpster I felt like someone had locked me in a hot car with a rotting carcass. I puked beside a trio of dented silver trash cans and wished to God that Umberto's had shut down before I'd had a chance to eat an entire plateful of their spaghetti.

I squeezed my eyes shut, more a reflex of the upchuck than a need to see in the dark, and when I opened them the alley glowed, not just green now, but muted yellow and blood red as well.
God, what's happening to me
?

I stood up, Vayl steadying me as I looked around. Small piles of garbage huddled next to overflowing trash bins like a bunch of freshmen who hadn't made the dance squad. Potholes full of greasy water marked a path down the alley only a staggering drunk could have followed. A couple of three-legged chairs leaned against a brick wall under a rusty fire escape. And in the middle of it all stood a vampire who must have spent part of his past battling Neanderthals and wrestling mammoths. Long, dark hair and a full beard hid most of his features. His mountainous frame blocked ninety percent of my view of the alley behind him. But the man laying at his booted feet showed up fine.

Another vamp knelt beside the prone man, gripping the edges of his torn shirt as she pulled him toward her bared fangs. I blew out a disappointed breath when I realized her hair was short, curly and real. Not Liliana after all.

The moment stretched into another plane, where time froze as we all tried to plan our next move. My attention riveted on the downed man, whose slow-blinking, unfocused eyes and blood-soaked collar bore witness to the attack he'd just survived.

Oooh that smell.

I looked at him closely, trying to pinpoint the source of his scent.

The mountain man saw us, and started speaking in Romanian. The tone was wary but not yet warning. For all he knew, Vayl had simply decided to duck out of the club for a midnight snack. As Vayl answered, I tried to unravel the mystery of this pitiful human lying on the garbage slimed pavement one block from where Miami's beautiful people met to play. In the words of Granny May, he wasn't
right
.

Standing this close to him felt like wading through swamp water. If you could distill the scent of maggots on manure, you might come close to his odor. But it wasn't body odor or bad breath. The man definitely bathed and scoped on a regular basis. In fact, for somebody whose pallor reminded me of a mortician with mono, the guy looked remarkable, a male model who's made one too many round trips on the express elevator.

The smell of death surrounds you.

His lips moved, though no sound escaped them. He mouthed the words, 'save me,' then slumped into unconsciousness.

I drew my gun, my forefinger lingering on what I called, to Bergman's delight, the magic button.

"I'll take the girl," I said, mostly because she looked like a runner, and I was highly motivated to put some distance between myself and the man she'd bitten. With my free hand I transferred the car keys from my pocket to Vayl's. "Do me a favor, when you're finished here. Take the guy to the hospital. If I had to do it I think my head would explode."

Vayl nodded, taking all his weight off his cane as he and Mountain Man sized each other up. I pressed the magic button and a mechanical whir signaled my Walther's transformation. The top quarter of the barrel opened to reveal a sheaf of thin wooden bolts no wider than a shish kebob skewer. Metal wings snapped open from each side of the barrel, the action also dropping a bolt into the chamber and cocking the metallic bow string that could send it flying nearly as fast and true as a bullet.

Vampirella gaped at me as I raised my weapon. She said, "You would not dare!"

"Yes," I said, "I would."

"I have done nothing wrong! I have a right to feed!" she responded, her voice shrill. She sprang to her feet, pulling the man up with her. He blinked, tried to focus, gave up and passed out again. The bloodstain on his shirt spread as the wound on his neck began to bleed again. My hand started to shake as his scent rolled over me.

"You have no rights," I told her, trying desperately to dodge a wave of nausea. It hit me anyway, and the effort it took not to gag brought tears to my eyes. I blinked them away, talking fast, aiming high. "On the other hand, I have several, including the right to shoot vampires with an unwilling donor's blood on their fangs."

Screaming with frustration, she picked the man up and threw him at me. Heavy as a side of beef, he hit me hard and I went down under him, feeling like I'd fall forever, knowing there was no escaping the living death that oozed over me like a flood of yellow pus.

I yelled and flailed at the inert weight holding me down, as panicked as if I was truly drowning.

The blackness came in a buzzing rush, and for the first time I reached out to it, thankful, ready to embrace it. Then the man's weight left me. I breathed fresh air, air tinged with the ice of Vayl's power. The man lay in a crumpled heap twenty feet away. Vayl stood over me, slashing at the male vamp with his cane. I looked for the female, trying to force my brain into motion.

Vayl moved and I sat up, feeling stupid and stunned. I retrieved Grief from where it had fallen beside me. I stood, stumbled off in the direction she must have taken, only years of training keeping me on my feet.

I heard a door click shut. Nothing was automatic. I had to tell my body to move toward the door. I concentrated on the handle, ordered my fingers to wrap around it and pull.

Inside, the thick, hot air pulsed to the beat of latin dance music. The door snapped shut behind me and I sprang forward, the sudden rush of energy that replaced the nausea propelling me into the dancing crowd. I slid the hand holding Grief inside my jacket and followed the wake my quarry's passage had created. Winding my way between pale young thrill seekers and their immortal lovers, feeling myself come alive again, I could hardly tell the real vamps from the pretenders. And plenty of both filled all three tiers of Club Undead's multi-colored dance floor. Leashed power sizzled and popped like cooking bacon, and I knew more than one of these bored rich kids would get burned tonight. In fact, one already had. He probably still lay in the alley like an abandoned lounge chair.

Who was he? What godawful horror crawled through his veins, exuding a stench that could knock me out like a glass-jawed boxer? Could it be that cancer had sunk its claws into him? I didn't think so. Hundreds of people had crossed my path tonight. Some of them must've been fighting the big C. But they hadn't shown up on my radar.

The mystery of the man's existence and the effect he had on me distracted me as I slogged toward the door. I didn't see Liliana or her goons, though I should've been looking for them. And I nearly missed Assan talking to his vampire accomplice, Aidyn Strait. They stood at the bottom of an ornate wrought iron staircase drinking and laughing, looking like they'd just figured out a foolproof way to rip off Fort Knox.

I averted my face as they headed upstairs, which was when I caught sight of Vampirella heading out the door. Frankenstein met me just outside. "Hey!" he bellowed as I tried to push past him, "I don't remember letting you in."

"You don't smell like Frankenstein at all," I said as I pulled out Grief, shoved it against his chest and fired. "You smell like Dracula."

A new wave of nausea hit me, but not as hard as before. Lucky for me my gal's trail led away from Nightmare Alley. I followed her at speed, hoping for an open shot, finding none.

After running hard for several blocks, dodging partiers and pedestrians, she surprised me by stopping suddenly. She stood outside a lamp store, the light from the front windows throwing sparkling highlights onto her hair. Like an A-list actress, she oozed confidence. Somewhere between here and the alley she'd pulled herself together and the realization stopped me in my tracks.

She smiled and I liked her immediately. Her charm could melt glaciers. She might actually be the cause of global warming. I smiled back; how could I resist? Though the spike in her power told me her charisma ran on batteries, I lowered Grief, resisting the urge to drop it.

"That man back there, with the blood on his shirt, who is he?" I asked, wishing I dressed as stylishly as this beauty with her knee-length boots, short denim skirt and silky red blouse.

"He is a friend of mine," she replied. "His name is Derek Steele."

I nodded. "He's very sick, you know. Probably dying."

Her smile wavered, seeming to shrink along with the rest of her. "Bad blood," she whispered. "Aidyn, you son-of-a-bitch, what have you done to me?"

Now I knew where I'd seen her. She'd been the small half of the couple on last night's helicopter. I should've recognized her and Mountain Man right away. I could blame my lapse on Derek Steele's sickening effect on me, but excuses are for wimps. I really should've noticed. Between this, the wrecked Lexus and the impulsive kiss, I may have just struck out. And I didn't even have a free afternoon to wallow in self-pity. At least I had my new friend.

I said, "I thought all vamps could smell bad blood."

"Not me. Not Boris," she said bitterly.

"So Aidyn set you up, huh? You must be part of his 'final experiment.' But it'll just make you sick, right? I mean, ultimately, you should be fine." I really wanted her to feel better. "Think about it logically. You must mean something to Aidyn. He wouldn't bring you here just to kill you."

"Not for himself. But he would do it for Edward." Her voice dropped to a whisper as she worked it out. "Edward must have burned inside that Boris and I rejected his proposals. But he never showed it. Not once."

"Edward sounds like a real shit," I offered.

Her head jerked in agreement. "I need an
avhar,"
she whispered.

I was so honored. But maybe she had a different definition than Vayl. "What would an
avhar
do for you?" I asked.

Her smile returned, switched to high-beam, her fangs making her look more deadly than a pissed off biker chick. "She would be a dearly loved companion," Vampirella explained. "She would watch over me if I should fall ill and protect me, perhaps even from myself."

She took a step toward me. "
You
could be my
avhar
. I feel… so close to you already."

What a sweet thing to say
! I waved my hand in front of my face like a dizzy southern belle. "I'm so flattered!" I said, feeling like I'd just won the Congressional Medal of Honor, also feeling her power pulse against my skin like a warm waterfall. "But I don't think I'd do you much good."

"Oh?" She cocked her head sideways, her dimples making her resemble a tree sprite, "and why is that?"

"Because I can't be trusted. See, I feel so close to you, like we're best friends. But last year my best friend was killed by a vampire. In fact, I thought she was fully dead until she came to visit me three nights after her funeral. And though I loved her like a sister, and though I was strangely happy to see her, I had made her a promise before she turned, one I couldn't bring myself to break," I raised Grief and took aim, "which was why I killed her anyway."

I shot Vampirella through the heart before she could move. And as I watched the breeze disperse her remains I whispered, "And that's what I couldn't tell Cole. Why David can't bear the sight of me. Why my brain gets stuck on replay every once in awhile. With friends like me, there really is no need for enemies."

Chapter Eleven

 

I pushed the magic button, stowed Grief inside my jacket and hoofed it back to Club Undead in time to see Liliana and the Liliettes climb back into the limo minus Scarface. Aidyn Strait had joined them, making chummy with Liliana like they were long lost pals. I started to go for my car, realized it was gone. Vayl had carried Derek Steele off to the hospital in it, leaving me temporarily stranded.

"Derek Steel." I snorted. "Sounds like the hero in a really raunchy Harlequin novel." Only none of those heroes ever found themselves donating blood in dark alleyways.
As if opening a vein in the comfort of your putrid pink hotel room makes you better somehow
.

"No, I'm no hero." A couple of die-hard fun-seekers gave me a strange look as they passed by.
Great. Now I'm standing out in a crowd. Man, am I slipping
.

It did feel that way, like all the layers I'd managed to stitch together to form my so-called life had shifted. Now nothing seemed to line up. I suddenly felt ancient, a tired old antique rusting on the sidewalk along with the metal trash cans. My knees quivered with the effort it took to hold myself up. Drained, as if a bad flu had grabbed me and shaken me till my brain rattled, I decided to find a better place to collapse than on the corner of Washington Avenue. I hailed a cab and slid in, giving the driver, who looked like he'd just gotten off el raft-o Cubano, directions to one of our backup hidey holes. I called Vayl on my cell phone.

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