Something near the apex of my aching ribs started to quiver. I felt like I was about to get a really grim phone call. And though Vayl was laying out the story of his tragic life for me because some warped vampire rule said I deserved to know, I knew the feeling wasn’t coming from him.
“They grew wild right in front of my eyes,” he continued. “And by the time I mustered the courage to tame them it was already too late. They went from teasing dogs with sticks to breaking windows with stones. When they drove into camp one afternoon in a wagon they had stolen . . . I snapped. I raged at them. I whipped them. I forced them to return the wagon with their apologies.”
The modern girl in me thought, Vayl’s family was camping? What, were they trying to save on hotel bills? The next thought, riding a sea of embarrassment, washed over me with the speed of a tidal wave. They were gypsies.
“What happened?” I asked.
“The farmer they had stolen it from shot them both before they had a chance to explain.”
“Oh, Vayl.” I held him tight, and not just because my heart bled for him. That feeling of wrongness had intensified. The little girl in me urgently needed a teddy bear. “That’s awful,” I murmured.
Vayl made a sound in the back of his throat, a primal distress signal, the kind you might hear from elephants as they mourn over the bones of lost brothers. “I wanted to kill the man because I could not kill myself. I blamed him completely. I heaped my own weakness and self-hatred upon him until just shooting him was not enough. I wanted him to die slowly, over days, even weeks, if possible. I wanted him to sink into horror as if it were quicksand.”
“What . . .” I swallowed, sick with this nameless feeling of dread, appalled by Vayl’s story. “What did you do?”
“I became the horror.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “It was so easy. My family”—he frowned—“my father, my grandparents, you have discerned by now that they held certain . . . powers?” I nodded, Cirilai warming my finger like a living thing. “Though I had never felt the call to take part in their rituals, I had watched them work all my life, lifting curses, saving souls. Now I simply did the opposite.”
“How?”
“I took three wooden crosses, profaned by the blood of murdered men, my own sons’, in fact. I set them in a triangle and stepped into its center. I called upon the unholy spirits to send me a vampire.”
“And?”
“They answered my plea. But they made sure he met my wife first.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“It was a long time ago, lifetimes ago. There is no need for you to be sorry.”
“Well, I am, but that’s not what I was talking about.”
“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 streetlamps and some other source my new vision appreciated but couldn’t 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 on top of 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 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 bloodred 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 Dumpsters 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 90 percent of my view of the alley behind him. But the man lying 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, who’s 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 Russian. 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 aroma. 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’d 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 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 multicolored 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 cancer have 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.
I locked the mystery of the man’s existence and the effect he had on me in a mental cabinet so it wouldn’t distract me as I moved toward the door. I spotted Liliana and her goons, though none of them saw me. And I saw 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 slid past them all without alerting them to my presence and followed Vampirella out the front 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. Aidyn had called her Svetlana. 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.”
“No. That is not why we came.” Her voice dropped to a whisper as she worked it out. “The Raptor brought us here to propose an alliance between his Trust and ours. He is becoming such a powerful force, we had no choice but to come. To listen.” Her eyes begged me to understand and, of course, I did. Who wouldn’t? “But we could not agree to his terms,” she went on.
“Terms?” I asked, feeling apologetic for interrupting her train of thought. But I really needed to know. “Alliance? I don’t get it. What do you have that could possibly interest him?”
She shrugged and said simply, “Moscow.”
Oh.
She went on. “We were fools to think he would let us leave peacefully. Edward must have burned inside that Boris and I rejected his proposals. But he never showed it. Not once.”
“The Raptor’s name is Edward?” I asked.
She nodded. “Edward Samos.” Bingo!
“And he’s in Miami?”
“No. We met him on his jet. He flew out as soon as our negotiations ended.”
“Do you know where he’s headquartered?”
“No.”
“Well, Edward sounds like a real shit,” I offered.
Her head jerked in agreement. “I need an avhar,” she whispered.
There was that word again. I had some idea what it meant, but maybe she could give me some clarification. “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 as if the slight breeze could hold back tears. “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 bef
ore 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 sometimes gets stuck on replay. With friends like me, there really is no need for enemies.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
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. 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 Steele.” 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.
“Lucille?” He answered on the first ring. Only people who care answer on the first ring. The thought made me tear up. Which made me consider slapping myself. What had happened to the thick-skinned agent who yelled at old ladies and stonewalled handsome young admirers?
“I’m beat.” My bruised ribs and cut lip began to ache, as if even I needed proof before I could give myself a break. “I’m going to crash at the condo until you’re finished with your business. Can you pick me up there?”
Once Bitten, Twice Shy Page 13