"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 before 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 gets stuck on replay every once in awhile. With friends like me, there really is no need for enemies."

  Chapter Eleven

  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 minus Scarface. 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 Steel." 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.

  "Jasmine?" He answered on the first ring. Only people who care answer on the first ring. The thought made me tear up. Which made me want to slap myself. What had happened to the thick-skinned agent who yelled at old ladies and stonewalled handsome young admirers?

  "Jeremy, 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?"

  "Certainly."

  "Is everything… okay?"

  "Fine," meaning he'd handled his vamp easily. Good. "We are just pulling up to the Emergency Room. I will probably see you in an hour."

  "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 multi-level 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 complimented 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 shoes 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 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 brain-storming, 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 extra huggable. But as I imagined her, winged and haloed, living it up with a distinguished old saint who also dug popcorn and Frank Sinatra movies.

  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.

  "So do you. I think everyone at Club Undead saw you stumble through that doorway. Are you still drunk?"

  "Probably." Shit! I was like the Texas Hold'em pro all the amateurs enjoy beating. My tells were obvious enough to be noted, to attract a shadow, most likely Scarface. 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 imagined 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 backwards. 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 entry way 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 air and goosebumps 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 that 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 schmuck 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 bird bath 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. Holy crap, I'm trapped on top of an eight story building with a homicidal vampire!

  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 super powers. 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, and 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 is 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 backwards 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 backwards 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 night. 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, 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, 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 I.D. 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 12th 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?"

  "Not really."

  Silence. I half expected him to start snoring.

  "So why did you call at nearly four in the morning?"

  "I didn't wreck the car."

  "Spit it out, Jaz."

  I winced. "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 badge—"

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