Once Bitten, Twice Shy

by Jennifer Rardin

  “Certainly.”

  “Is everything . . . okay?”

  “Fine.” Meaning he’d handled Boris easily. Good. “We are just pulling up to the emergency room. I will probably see you in an hour or two.”

  “Sounds good. Drive safe.”

  He sighed, knowing I really meant, “Take care of my Mercedes.”

  We hung up and I spent the rest of the drive wondering exactly what kind of world had just opened up to me. It was as if my senses, two of them at least, had undergone a major upgrade. I could see a whole new spectrum of light. And I could sense great imbalances in human health. Now if I could only hear through brick walls I’d make a great sideshow for Barnum & Bailey.

  The cab dropped me at the Star One Resort, a multilevel apartment building right on the beach. Most of the apartments were time-shares. So if I ran into anybody in the commons or the elevator, they wouldn’t raise an eyebrow at the presence of a stranger.

  The lock on the door looked intimidating. A metal-faced number pad with a digital readout prevented easy access, unless you had the right fingerprint. I did. I pressed my thumb on the small sensor pad next to the latch. The tumblers tumbled and I stumbled in, swinging the door shut behind me.

  The room looked much better than the Bubblegum Bordello. The walls had been painted off-white. Evie would’ve called it something romantic like Ivory Lace. The chocolate-brown furniture felt like velvet and the dark gold carpet complemented the gold fleur-de-lis in the red-wine curtains. I opened them and saw a small balcony overlooking the ocean. Nice view if you had the time to enjoy it.

  I shucked my boots and socks and plopped onto the couch, promising myself to try out the matching chair and ottoman before I left. And maybe, yeah, maybe if dawn caught us here I’d explore the garden too. It was on the roof and easily accessed from the bedroom by means of a stairway that hid behind the closet door. That extra escape route was what had sold us on the place.

  Never mind waiting till dawn. I’ll just rest here for a minute; then I’ll check out the garden. I closed my eyes, breathing deeply the smells of recycled air (just the right temperature) and apple-cinnamon plug-ins.

  I admit it. I blew it. I should’ve stayed awake, done some brainstorming, solved the mystery, and gotten myself a Scooby Snack. Instead my sleep-deprived bod yelled, “Break time!” and all systems hit pause.

  I dream vividly every time I sleep. Even my power naps remind me of Super Bowl commercials. This time I dreamed of Granny May, not as I remembered her, wearing faded jeans and bulky sweaters that made her extrahuggable. But as I imagined her, winged and haloed, living it up with Gramps Lew who, I was sure, had met her at the pearly gates with a bowl of popcorn and a Frank Sinatra movie.

  We talked like a couple of beauticians, and she said a lot of things I couldn’t recall later on, though I knew they were important. I do remember a feeling of deep, resounding contentment, the kind you mostly lose after the age of six. Then her face took on a look I recognized, but not from her. Suddenly she resembled my mom when I was about to hear the words “Grounded for life!” The contentment fled and I began to feel a familiar prickling sensation in my fingers and toes.

  “It’s not your time,” Granny May snapped. “Wake up!”

  I opened my eyes. I stood. I damn near saluted. I guess it’s true that old habits die hard. So do old field agents. As soon as I recognized my magical alarm had not been dreamed, I spun to face the source of the power that had tripped it.

  The balcony doors flew open and I could actually see the glass shivering as the doorframe hit the wall. In walked Vayl’s former wife.

  “You sure know how to make an entrance,” I said. I sounded calm, amused. It was a total scam, and the scowl on Liliana’s face told me she’d bought it. Good. It might give me a couple of extra steps when I turned to run. Okay, if I turned to run. I hadn’t made up my mind on that yet.

  “It is one of my finer qualities.”

  “How did you find me?”

  “Your trail glows brighter than neon,” she said, smiling as she saw the barb hit.

  Shit! I was like the Texas hold ’em pro all the amateurs enjoy beating. I’d attracted a shadow I hadn’t even noticed. Is it time for a vacation?

  I think Liliana badly wanted to call me a candy-ass but just didn’t have the phrase at the tip of her tongue. So she went straight to the point.

  “You have something that belongs to me.” She’d suddenly developed an accent. She must really be pissed. I snuck a look at my watch. Vayl might be on his way, but he wouldn’t get here in time to back me up, much less save me. And I didn’t much savor the thought of him scraping me off the carpet. What to do? What to do? My nerves were running around like earthquake victims, screaming hysterically and ramming into each other, causing no end of damage and helping me not one damn bit.

  “Everything I have is mine,” I told her. Wrong thing to say. Her eyes, including the whites, turned the bright red of fresh blood. Her hands twitched and I realized those perfect store-bought nails doubled as covers for retractable claws. They grew, even as I watched, to letter-opener length, and I knew they’d slice through skin just as easily as they’d cut paper.

  “That is where we fundamentally disagree.” She moved forward and to her left, intending to block my exit. Evidently she couldn’t visualize me jumping off the balcony. It seemed like a bad plan to me as well. My adrenaline had already deserted me. I’m so tired. Almost too tired to be scared. Almost, almost, almost—

  “I don’t know what you mean,” I replied. As she moved I did too, maintaining the distance between us as I inched closer to the bedroom door.

  “Cirilai.” She pointed to the ring on my right hand, her claws shaking with the force of her anger. “It is mine.”

  “Vayl told me his family made it for him.”

  “I am his family!” she spat. “It is my right to wear Vayl’s ring!” She took a step forward and I pulled Grief. It was still in gun mode, but it stopped her. For now. So, of course, I egged her on.

  “You’re not his wife anymore, Liliana. You’re not even his avhar. The ring is mine, and I’m keeping it.”

  She screamed. Like a banshee. On uppers. Caught in a vice.

  I shot her as she charged. Three times—bam, bam, bam—in a nice tight pattern in the chest. Bright red blood spattered the wall behind her as she fell backward. She hit the dining room table on her way down. It teetered and crashed sideways under the impact. I used the extra time it gave me to turn and run.

  Should’ve nailed her with a bolt, I chastised myself. Should’ve pressed the magic button, Jaz. I should’ve, but I hadn’t, and there was no time now to figure out why.

  My bare feet hardly touched the carpet as I sprinted for the bedroom door. Liliana’s screams and growls spurred me on. I made it through the door, slammed, and locked it before she could reach me. It was a closer race than I’d thought. Just after the bolt shot home she banged into the door, making it shiver on its hinges. I got a sudden vision of a Liliana-shaped indentation on the other side and laughed. That brought on another scream of rage and a series of attacks on the door that would eventually shatter it. I headed for the closet and the stairs it hid.

  I threw that door open and charged up the cold, concrete stairs, taking them two at a time. Another door, sturdy and metal with a bar across its middle that reminded me of the entryway to my high school’s old gym, stood at the top. I hit it flying. For a millisecond I thought it might be locked and pictured myself bouncing off the handrail and down the steps like a bird who’s just smacked into a third-story window. But the door opened easily, leading me out to the most amazing rooftop I’d ever encountered.

  My first, brief impression of the garden was a feeling of bursting into fairyland. White lights had been strung in potted trees and along the latticework walls that divided the rooftop into numerous small rooms. Somewhere running water accompanied the sound of my breathing. It smelled like spring, but my toes curled against the cold night ai
r and goose bumps rose like tiny mountain ranges along my arms.

  A quick hunt bagged me a concrete bench whose top wasn’t attached to its legs. I lugged the seat to the door and wedged it under the handle so it couldn’t be depressed. Maybe it would hold Liliana long enough for me to make a clean getaway.

  My escape route required me to cross to the other side of the roof, so I walked through the garden rooms as quickly as I could, avoiding tables and benches where people would sit with their morning coffee when this cold spell snapped, never knowing the story unfolding on this very spot.

  Liliana’s power snapped at my heels like a pit bull at the edge of its chain. It reminded me of Umberto’s, and I sure didn’t want to be the next poor slob to keel over in a plate of linguini. I rushed through arbors thick with vines. I slipped past statues of angels, wind chimes that swayed dangerously close to song, an empty concrete birdbath that looked abandoned and forlorn. I’d made it about halfway across the roof when Liliana’s power peaked and a sudden, explosive noise halted me.

  Liliana’s voice hit the air like a jet engine. “I am not just going to kill you!” she screeched. “I am going to tear your chest open and drink the blood directly from your beating heart!”

  “That’s just gross, Liliana. Didn’t your poor dead mama ever teach you any manners?”

  I slipped to another section of the roof as she tracked my voice. Hopefully I could play mouse to her cat long enough to find the twin to the door she’d just destroyed. Then I’d run some more. The thought made me want to break something.

  I could confront her, of course, maybe even smoke her if she wasn’t too fast or too strong. If my aim was true. But I realized, though I wanted to kill her, I couldn’t. Vayl should be the one to finish her.

  I found the door, framed by hanging baskets, and gently depressed the handle. Nothing happened. It was locked. Okay, Jaz, you are now trapped on top of an eight-story building with a homicidal vampire. Time for Plan B.

  Liliana’s power settled on me like a thick fog. I began to sweat as I waded through it, somehow managing to reach the fire escape without making a noise. When I grabbed the rails to start my descent, I looked down and saw Liliana’s limo parked under a streetlight. I only saw the car, but I couldn’t believe she’d sent her goons home for the evening. Were they all huddled inside with the heat cranked, still trying to regain the warmth Vayl had stolen from them earlier? Were they guarding my escape routes, waiting to grab me the moment I thought I was free? Why hadn’t Liliana brought them up with her? It seemed almost . . . fair.

  No, not fair—confident. She was just that sure one puny woman couldn’t stand against her amazing superpowers. She hadn’t brought reinforcements because she simply saw no point.

  I decided my best bet was to circle back to the door I’d come through. I managed to find my way through a maze of potted shrubs and outdoor furniture without making a sound. Part of the twisted remains of a hammock peeked out from beneath the blown door. The opening it had left beckoned. I’d just decided to run for it when her voice froze me.

  “I thought you might come back here.”

  Shit! I wanted to bang my head against the wall, but figured that was a part of Liliana’s overall plan and decided to leave it to her.

  I turned around, my Lucille mask firmly in place.

  She held out her hand, her smile both condescending and triumphant. Three dark blotches on her chest were all that remained of the bullets I’d fired. “The ring,” she said, wiggling her fingers to make me move faster.

  She had me on strength, speed, and pure evil intent. I’m sure she expected me to cringe and shuffle. Which was why my kick swept right up the center of her body without a block or even a delay. It contacted her beneath the chin, driving her head backward and breaking her jaw, from the sound of it. Off balance and staggering on her too-high heels, Liliana’s only move was to reach forward, try to regain her balance. I couldn’t allow that.

  I kicked her three times in quick succession, contacting her high on the chest, moving her backward several steps each time. When her heels hit the lip of the roof, I jump-kicked her right over the side. She fell loud and long, her body making a spectacular watermelon-under-the-sledgehammer whump when it hit the pavement.

  Oh no, it wasn’t over. People wouldn’t be willing to pay such a high price for immortality if it didn’t come with some major perks. Her screaming might have stopped when her body met asphalt, and she’d be in no shape to demand anything more of me tonight, but she’d heal. Quickly. Bed rest and fresh blood would put her back on her feet by tomorrow evening. But for tonight, I had won.

  I peered over the edge of the roof. The headlights from a couple of stopped cars lit the scene like something out of a Hitchcock movie. Liliana’s body sprawled on the street, as twisted and disjointed as a scarecrow’s. One driver yelled into his cell phone while the other checked her pulse. Liliana’s car pulled up, screeching to a halt from its short trip around the block. All four goons piled out and went to work.

  Two held off the protesting drivers with handguns while the others grabbed the unconscious vamp by the wrists and ankles and carried her to the car, reminding me of the deer Albert and Dave used to haul out of the woods after a good morning’s hunt. They’d barely gotten her stowed and driven off into the night when sirens announced the arrival of cops who, having seen damn near everything pertaining to the supernatural, would probably believe every detail of the drivers’ stories.

  Considering the noise we’d made in the room before coming to the roof, I decided even my ID might not stand between me and a visit to the police station. Not a comfy thought with Vayl due any minute and dawn following him like a stray dog.

  I ran down the stairs, gritting my teeth against the pounding my poor feet were taking. When I got to the room I went straight to my socks, pulled them on, and wrapped my jacket around my feet before punching into my phone the special combination of numbers that would provide me with some semblance of privacy while I talked. Ignoring the blood spatters on the wall, I stared hard at the drawer pull on the end table next to my chair while I waited for an answer. I got one on the twelfth ring.

  “Hullo?”

  “Pete? It’s Jasmine.”

  “Don’t tell me you wrecked another car.”

  “Okay.”

  Medium pause. I heard rustling, probably him checking out his bedside clock because the next thing he said was, “Do you know what time it is?”

  “It’s after five a.m. here.”

  Silence. I half expected him to start snoring.

  “Get to the point, Parks.”

  “I didn’t wreck the car.”

  “Spit it out, Jaz.”

  “Please don’t yell at me.”

  “I’m not yelling!”

  “I know. But you might be. Soon.”

  “If you don’t start passing on some real information soon I’m going to yell at my wife. Then you’ll have guilt.”

  “Manipulator.”

  “Spill.”

  I ran a hand through my hair and got Cirilai caught in some tangles. As I tried to free myself, I said, “I pushed a vamp off a roof tonight.”

  “Not part of the mission, but acceptable.”

  “Not really. The cops are coming up here soon, and they’re not going to believe I’m innocent when they see the bloodstains.”

  “Bloodstains?”

  “I shot her first, here in the room. And her goons came and took her away while I was still on the roof, so I have no proof she and I fought.”

  “Your ID—”

  “—could be faked. I don’t have the time to talk myself out of this situation, Pete. Dawn’s coming.”

  “All right. Let me talk to them.”

  “I heard sirens. They’ll be here in a sec. In the meantime—”

  “Don’t you dare sing me a lullaby.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it. I just wanted you to know, we think one of the senators on our oversight committee might be di
rty.”

  “They’re politicians, Jaz. It kind of goes with the territory.”

  “You’re tired. I get it.” I told him about our suspicions, wondering how much really sunk in. The guy might actually still be asleep. Dave could do that, carry on a perfectly logical conversation with you in the middle of the night and then not remember anything about it the next day because he’d been mostly asleep the whole time. “Pete, are you awake?”

  “Yes, Jasmine, I’m awake. It’s your fault too. I want you to remember that.”

  “Believe me, I will. And, um, we’ve got the senator thing covered from here, okay? If you get nosy and get yourself killed I’m gonna have to put your kids through college or something, so do me a favor and steer clear.”

  “You know, last week Ashley was talking about getting her PhD at Yale, so I have to say I’m a little tempted. But don’t worry. There’s a reason I hire the best.”

  Wow. Now I have to ratchet it up a notch—keep deserving that remark. “Hang on. Somebody’s at the door.”

  I opened it midknock. The cop on the other side looked slightly stunned that I’d responded so quickly. Even more so when I handed him my badge and the phone and said, “It’s for you.”

  He took it like it might be rigged to blow and held it about six inches from his ear. “Hello?” he said while his partner hung back, his Glock out but pointing at the floor for the moment.

  The first cop listened for a while and when he gave me an amused look, I relaxed. When he chuckled, I started to fume. No doubt Pete was telling him all about my tendency to leave a trail of twisted cars and blood-spattered walls that a blind dog with a cold could follow.

  “Did she really?” asked the cop. He laughed louder and motioned for his partner to listen in on the call. All told, Pete kept them entertained for another three minutes and twenty-five seconds while I leaned against the wall and timed them. At 3:26 the cop handed me the phone and my badge.

  “He wants to talk to you,” he said; then he nodded, headed out the door and down the stairs with his partner close behind.