Bitten to Death

leave bloody imprints, both from their sheer weight and the fact that it felt like his nails had never been trimmed.

I looked down into his face and, I swear, he was sticking that wide pink tongue to one side to make it easier for him to laugh. I said, “You need a Mentos. Ugh, I’m not kidding. The second I’m free, we’re brushing your teeth. Now get down, you monster! Dave, why are you laughing!”

“He’s ha-ha-humping you! Now I know what was in Bergman’s spray cans! No, no, stand still, I’ve got to get a shot of this!”

“Aw, for the love of—get off, you perve!” I shoved a hand into Ziel’s chest and lowered him to all fours before Dave could record my humiliation for all history. “Do I need to remind you we’re working?” I snarled as Dave worked the zoom on his camera.

“Hold that bitchy face. It’s classic Jaz,” he replied.

“Would you please grab the leash?” I demanded. “We need to get the hell out of here!”

“Fine, fine.” He let the electronics dangle and took hold of Ziel’s lead, allowing us to hustle to the parking lot. Well, we tried. “Goddammit, Dave, can you at least keep this mutt from nose-goosing me every four steps? I can’t think with my underwear stuck up my crack. I know it’s a weakness, but it’s just one of those things.” As Dave practically doubled over with laughter, I kept myself from boxing his ears by saying, “I don’t get why he’s not trying to get up close and personal with you. You sprayed too.”

“I used the stuff in the other can. Maybe it’s got different chemicals. Here, we’re at the minibus, you can call Bergman and ask.”

“Before or after I kill him?” More howling from my brother, who at least had the presence of mind to pull the dog off me and shove him in the vehicle for Trayton to hold.

Okay, Jaz, I told myself as I belted in and grabbed my phone out of the bag, don’t yell. Remember how Vayl gets results? He talks in a reasonable tone. And people listen. And then—I pressed the last button of Bergman’s number and yelled, “Fuck your protocols, Bergman! Answer this phone right the hell now!”

“Jasmine?” Dammit, his voice wasn’t even quivering. It would’ve been nice if he was still the shaky-quaky I’d roomed with in college. But he’d grown a backbone recently and was a lot harder to intimidate as a result. Still, I tried.

“What the hell, Miles? This dog—no, this miniature grizzly—thinks I’m his one and only!”

“Well, I didn’t know if he was neutered or not. So I put sex pheromones to attract an unneutered animal in one can, and the chemicals necessary to get a neutered animal’s attention in the other.”

“Well, I’m covered with love potion and he’s about to yank the arms off the guy who’s trying to hold on to him. What do I do now?”

“Are you wearing a jacket?”

He’d know I typically did in order to hide the gun he’d made for me. “Yeah.”

“Maybe if you lost it,” he suggested.

Which meant I’d also have to take off my shoulder holster. At this point I was willing to make the sacrifice if it meant getting that cold, wet nose out of my personals. I slipped the jacket off and threw it toward the back of the bus. Only I was so frustrated I hefted it farther than I meant to. It flew through the gap between Vayl’s tent and the side of the bus. Trayton wisely let go of Ziel, which meant he wasn’t injured when the dog tore after it. I wasn’t sure we’d be able to say the same for my boss.

“Vayl, brace yourself!” I cried.

“Why would, oof, ow!” Vayl responded as Ziel galloped over his tent, trampling it and various parts of the vampire’s anatomy in his effort to reach his new love. Finally he snagged the jacket at the back of the bus, where . . . well, I just couldn’t watch. It had once been a piece of my clothing. Now it was a dog’s sex toy.

Pete, you have no idea what sacrifices I make for this job, do you?

“Gross,” I said. I began to turn around. Then something about Trayton’s body language caught my eye. “Dude? Are you okay?” His pupils had doubled in size and he kept licking his lips as he looked at me, unblinking, his focus becoming a little creepy as it continued without even a glance in another direction.

He spoke in a hoarse, barely controlled monotone. “The spray seems to have an effect on werewolves too.”

This day just keeps getting better and better. “Dave! Get us to the cemetery. Quick!” I pulled my .38 just as Trayton made a move on me. “Don’t even,” I warned him.

“But you smell so—”

“It’s not me, ya sex-crazed wolfman! It’s spray-on fake-out juice. Dude, tell me you’re smart enough to know the difference!”

Finally, a reaction, even if it was just a couple of blinks. “Of course. But you, that is, I . . .” He sat back, his nose twitching, a look of confusion warring with the one of desire that now sat on his face.

“Plus, Phoebe told me you guys mate for life. Is that right?”

“Yes.”

I said, “Well, I’m not that girl. I’ll bet you can smell that too, if you just let yourself.”

“Can I have your dress when you’re done with it?”

“NO!”

He sat all the way back as I muttered, “Dave, where’s that can of your stuff? I’m drenching myself in it.” From then on, the only sounds that accompanied us to the cemetery were the whish of aerosol