"A vampire senator." I shook my head. "Scary. But how did they figure to pull it off? People in Washington get kind of suspicious when you only come out at night."

  Vayl shrugged. "Technology has befriended the human race; I imagine there are times when it smiles kindly on vampires as well."

  Well, maybe. Or maybe our senator had a double. Public figures had done the same throughout history. Or maybe he or she was so newly turned and this plan so quickly hatched that he or she could go a couple of weeks in the dark without raising suspicion. Bottom line, our senator had found a way.

  I said, "Okay, so at this point we have a dirty plastic surgeon with terrorist ties allied with a Most Wanted vampire allied with a senator. You know what this smells like don't you?"

  "Raptor?"

  "That son of a bitch is the only one I can think of who could pull together three such unlikely collaborators."

  We both fell silent, thinking about the vamp who would, according to Pete's prediction, become the nemesis of every government of every developed country in the world by the end of the decade. If we could use our current suspects to prove all the suppositions we'd collected regarding the Raptor and thus justify a hit on him—to say that the safety and stability of the world would increase exponentially would not be an overstatement.

  The limo ahead of us slowed, searching for parking. It had led us to South Beach, where the pretty people met to PARTAYYY! Bars, restaurants, two theatres and a comedy club, all dressed up in Art Deco and neon, shared the neighborhood with the establishment in front of which the limo stopped. The place resembled a Jaycees haunted house, from the rocking tombstones that spelled out CLUB UNDEAD on the fake granite facade, to the glowing skeletons that hung from the second floor balcony, to the green lights that outlined the entire building.

  Despite the fact that many party hounds still sat at home whimpering into their doggy pillows, a steady stream of handsome men, beautiful women, and gorgeous men dressed as women moved up and down the sidewalks. Braving the unseasonal chill, even more revelers sat together at the tables that lined the walk, enjoying the company, the booze, and the cheerful glow that came from twinkle lights lining the frames of their patio umbrellas.

  Lucky for us, Liliana and her goons had to wait in line before Club Undead's bouncer, a 21st century version of Frankenstein, let them in. That gave us the slack we needed to secure a parking space in an open lot just down the street. We left the car and joined the crowd, sauntering as close to the club as we dared before finding a spot in a darkened doorway beside a closed deli to make like cuddling lovers.

  I stood in the circle of Vayl's arms, fighting distraction. This whole new spectrum of color had opened up to me, but I couldn't relish it. I felt like a security guard at the Louvre, forced to watch the potential thieves when I really just wanted to stare at the Mona Lisa. As it happened, that lovely little side effect was just the first in a series of brushstrokes that would eventually reveal an entirely new picture of my life. The second had just begun to show its shadow, a creeping feeling of immense imbalance, when Vayl interrupted my inner inventory.

  "There is something else you need to know." His voice rang loud, almost strident, in my ear. "I did not kill my sons."

  "Do I look that gullible?" I asked. "Geez, Vayl, I don't believe half the things you say and I trust you."

  I didn't realize he was holding himself rigid until he sighed and slumped against the wall at his back.

  "I was nearly 40," he began as he kept vigil, his chin just level with my nose. "My boys were almost grown. Hanzi was fifteen. His brother, Badu, was thirteen." Vayl spoke their names as if they were holy. "Liliana gave me five children altogether, but Hanzi and Badu were the only ones to survive infancy. And so… we spoiled them." He lapsed into silence. I felt my heart break a little for the couple he and Liliana had been, desperately sad for their lost children, desperate to make sure their living children survived.

  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 like toddlers. 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 of sound 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, heaping my own weakness and self hatred upon him until just shooting him would not be 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 sent him all right. 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 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."