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[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] cape easier. A growl turned my attention to the front. A wolf guarded the mouth into the tunnel. Its orange aura roiled like fire. The two eyes glowed bright as heated iron. Good show, but this wolf hadn t been paying attention to current events. So far the score was: our side, two; wolves, zero. And I still had bullets in my pistol. I fired once. The wolf yelped and jumped. I fired again. The wolf s front legs folded, and the animal collapsed, hind- quarters and rump sticking into the air. The orange aura van- ished, as if blown out. Coyote and I ran through the tunnel past the dead wolf as it turned into the trim shape of a female vampire. Tattoos en- circled the arms. It was Rachel, the human receptionist from Gomorrah Video who later, as a vampire, drove the limo that shuttled me to Petale Venin. I had warned her. X- RATED BLOODSUCKERS 281 Men jogged through the parking area. Red laser pointers crisscrossed the ground like feelers. Coyote crashed through the brush ahead of me, and I lost him. I headed west in the scrub parallel to Mulholland Drive. The dense woods and terrain swallowed the noise coming from Cragnow s estate. Coyote and I had knocked off the primary guard force, the wolves. Smart tactic for Cragnow, if it would ve worked. I had expected vampire lookouts and technical surveillance, not furry undead killers. I loaded a fresh magazine into my pistol. An orange glow outlined the scrub branches. I raised my pistol. Don t shoot, vato, whispered Coyote. He stepped though a gap in the scrub, a skinny old-man frame naked, save for the tennis shoes on his feet. He carried his clothes wadded under one arm. You can get dressed, I said. Later, ese. The night air feels good. He continued for his truck, the muscles of his scrawny ass cheeks flexing and relax- ing as he strode along. Blood trickled from the scratches on his neck and shoulders. You okay? I asked. I massaged the bite on my wrist, feel- ing the torn flesh mend itself. You re bleeding. Coyote wiped the blood from his skin. A la Madre. It s mine. Next time, vato, I ll let you handle all the chingasos. We did the usual drill with his beater Ford. I pushed it out into the street and pushed again to start the rusted jalopy. I was getting too much practice at this. Coyote drove the long way back to Boyle Heights, taking 282 MARI O ACEVEDO Mulholland to Beverly Glen Boulevard, Sunset, then the 405 and finally the Santa Monica Freeway. At every intersection and turn I expected the police to am- bush us. After all, Cragnow only need jerk the chain of his buddy, Deputy Police Chief Julius Paxton. I kept my pistol handy. I didn t want to kill any human cops if they were doing their jobs and had no idea of this vampire insurrection. But my fellow undead were fair game. So far, no cops. No one chasing us. No helicopters. This is too easy, I said. Coyote s forehead wrinkled and the ends of his mustache quivered. You crazy? We barely escaped. Cragnow expected only me, so three wolves would ve been enough, even with my gun, I said. He underestimated me, or rather, us. Next time, he won t. X- RATED BLOODSUCKERS 283 C HAPT ER 41 - -- -- We arrived at Coyote s house, passing delivery trucks bringing newspapers and fresh bread to convenience stores and markets. Coyote let his truck roll to the bottom of the dip and turned his heap around so it faced the right way when it was time to leave. A cerulean band of sky appeared above the mountains of the Angeles National Forest. Dawn approached, and my kundalini noir coiled in fear of the morning light. No suspicious auras lurked in the neighborhood. No cops. The neighborhood was as quiet and serene as a crypt. On the way into his house, Coyote gathered a handful of sticks. He broke them into pieces the length of a pencil. Coy- ote paced the perimeter of his yard and worked a stick into the ground every few paces. What s that for? I asked. My alarm system. Anybody or anything crosses those sticks Coyote snapped his fingers I m awake. Where did you learn this? Un guajiro Tarahumara. A shaman from the Tarahumara Indians. Does it work? Like magic. Like the same magic that starts your truck? Hope not. With Coyote s high-tech security system protecting us, I headed downstairs to rest and escape the morning s rays. Water dripped from the ceiling where it leaked from the wet kitchen floor. I lay in the coffin and counted the drips splashing against the lid until I fell asleep. By midafternoon we were up. I inspected the circle of sticks, looking for evidence of tampering or unusual footprints. Nothing happened. Are you surprised, ese? Nothing bad can happen to us in- [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |