Jennifer Rardin - [Jaz Parks 1] - Once Bitten, Twice Shy

'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.