The goddamn psychic signal started. I jerked upright, alert. The echo remained low, almost a hum. Now that I knew Phaedra was responsible for the signal, the mystery to them was gone.
And just like that, the echo stopped.
What did Phaedra want? What was the purpose of the signal? A warning?
I lowered the volume of the TV and turned off the lights. Let’s pretend I’d fallen asleep.
I put my fingers against the door and held still. I collected the faint vibrations from outside, the tiny smells, the whisper-like noises.
Slowly, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, like a cold breath had fallen over them. Danger lurked, that was for sure, but in what form?
Footsteps creaked over the gravel in the parking lot. One set. Two sets. Three sets.
I holstered the.45 into the waist of my jeans and put my boots on.
I didn’t want a gunfight. Not here. The shots would alert too many people and make my hunt for the zombies much more difficult. I only took the gun to keep the odds in my favor.
I’d attack Cavagnolo’s men as a vampire.
I would go out through the bathroom window. The bars on the window were welded to a metal frame that was bolted to the wall of the window opening. I used my talons to saw off the heads of the bolts holding the frame in place. I worked the frame loose and sliced a hole in the screen.
I gave a listen, heard nothing unusual, and peeked out. To the left, the alley dead-ended against a tall cinderblock wall. To the right, toward the street, a metal barrel and a sheet of plywood were arranged into a makeshift barricade at the entrance. The bottom of the alley was full of mud and trash.
I climbed out the window and levitated to the ground. The stink kept me from smelling anything except for rats, raccoons, dead sparrows, and discarded diapers.
I crept close to the metal barrel. Crouching to remain low, I peered through a gap between the plywood and the wall.
Two pickups sat on the other side of the road, the same ones Cavagnolo’s men drove. A red aura bubbling with anxiety surrounded a man pacing between the trucks. The ember of a cigarette lit up his face. He’d been with Cavagnolo earlier but I didn’t get his name. A maze of shadows obscured the front of the buildings behind the truck.
The plan must be to catch me in bed with Shawna and then lights out, amigo.
A simple and effective plan. Too bad I was on to it.
When the man guarding the trucks turned away, I leaped over the barrel and plywood. I landed softly on the gravel shoulder and sprinted across the boulevard.
I hid in the shadows and studied the guard. He paused and leaned against the back of one of the trucks while keeping watch over the motel. I stalked close enough to smell that he had steak for dinner. I crouched next to a tire behind him. He tossed the cigarette to the ground.
No need to kill him; I only wanted him out of the way.
He stood with his back to me. I sprung forward and clamped onto the collar of his coat. My momentum slammed him face-first to the ground.
I yanked on his collar and scooted back, gaining speed. I whipped around in a circle until his feet lifted off the ground. I turned in place, spinning completely around and tossed the man against a wall. He hit the bricks and went uff. His aura flashed once, then shrank to a dull simmer. He was out for a while.
I went to every truck and clawed the tires. Sharp rubber odors escaped through the ragged holes. I dashed across the street and leaped for the motel roof. This was too easy. I couldn’t resist doing a full gainer. Levitating the final distance, I landed with a sound no louder than bunnies screwing.
I trod softly to the edge of the roof overlooking the parking lot. Two men, Cleto and another guy, sneaked along the walls to my room. Each carried a pistol with a silencer. Vinny watched from a position close to a Dumpster.
The two men crept close to my room door. They nodded, once, a second time, and on the third time, Cleto kicked the door to my room. Both men disappeared inside.
I heard them scramble, confused, wondering where I had gone. I followed one man’s frantic steps to the bathroom. Cleto stuck his head out the window into the alley and stared right and left. Angry, nervous tendrils snaked from his aura. I should’ve peed on him.
Cleto withdrew his head. Seconds later he yelled, “Get your ass up, stupid bitch. Where is he?”
There was slapping and the tumble of a body to the floor. Hell of a wake-up call.
After a moment, Cleto and his buddy marched out the door. They muscled Shawna between them, her hair knotted in Cleto’s hand. She hobbled along barefoot, with no jacket, and whimpered like a cold, frightened puppy.
Vinny joined the trio and vanished around the corner of the restaurant.
No lights came on in any of the other motel windows. Maybe guests getting roughed up was nothing to lose sleep over.
I jumped from the roof and landed beside my room entrance. The front door remained open. The bed had been overturned.
Within a minute I was back outside, with my contacts in place, fully dressed, and driving my Toyota out of the parking lot. My headlamps swept across Cleto and crew staring at their trucks. The flat tires hung from the chrome wheels like soggy doughnuts. The guy I’d thrown against the wall was up and rubbing his head.
I drove to them. Shawna sat in the backseat of the Chevy’s cab.
Vinny’s eyes shone like a couple of candied cherries against his ham-like face. He tapped excitedly on the other guy’s arm and pointed.
Vinny, Shawna, and this guy eyed me like I’d materialized from the air. I halted with my left front fender beside Cleto and announced, “Hope you guys have AAA.”
Cleto spun about. He had such a Holy Shit! expression that it took him a moment to recognize me. His eyes brimmed with surprise and rage. He jerked the pistol toward me.
I tossed Shawna’s jacket at him. “If she catches cold, I’m holding you responsible.”
Cleto fumbled for the jacket and his pistol clattered to the ground.
I gave the gas pedal a nudge and my front tire crunched over his gun. I rested the muzzle of my H&K on the windowsill of my door. “Who wants to live?”
Vinny and the other guy raised their hands.
Cleto straightened and clutched the jacket in both arms. “Where the fuck were you?” The question came out as a pained groan.
Cavagnolo had sent this wild bunch to do me in, and instead they had nothing to show for their efforts except for a thousand dollars in tire replacements.
“Watching TV. You walked right past me.”
“How…I didn’t see…no way.” His eyes darted back and forth and he wobbled in a fit of vertigo.
I extended my hand and rubbed my thumb across my fingertips. “You owe me for the door you busted open.”
“The hell you talking about?”
“Cleto, you’re forgetting that I’m aiming a gun at your guts. Pay up and I won’t air-condition your belly.”
Cleto dropped a hand over his stomach.
Vinny dug a roll of bills from a coat pocket. He peeled off a hundred and gave it to me.
I cocked my thumb at Vinny and told Cleto, “Now you owe him.”
I eased on the gas and rolled forward. “Tell your boss that I’m not holding what happened tonight against him. Yet. Consider it a learning exercise.”
Unfortunately, these buffoons were a big distraction in my hunt for the zombies. For his sake, I hoped Cavagnolo would get wise and cooperate before his dismembered corpse wound up in a spare parts bin.
“And Cleto.”
His gaze lifted from the pistol I’d run over. “Huh?”
“Take better care of your gun.”