THE INSTANT I SAW the intruder block the open doorway, I zapped him with my vampire glare.

Dark wraparound sunglasses shielded his eyes.

Damn, I couldn’t hypnotize him.

I took a mental snapshot.

A red aura blazing like the fire from a rocket nozzle surrounded his hefty bulk. Tall, easily six-four. A big man who knew how to use his muscles. Black leather jacket. A head like a rectangular hunk of stone topped with short, wiry blond hair.

Was he the same gunman who had chased me into the ditch with an M16? And the guy who broke into my apartment and whacked me on the head? How did he know I was here? Was he stalking me? Who did he work for?

Wendy tucked herself next to the overhead cabinets above me, like a moth trying to hide.

He shifted his weight to one side. The afternoon sunlight burst around him and flooded the kitchen to scald my naked torso.

I stumbled backwards toward the counter and clutched the air in pain. Through tearing eyes, I glimpsed the long barrel of a silencer jerk toward me. A plastic bag covered the pistol, a professional killer’s trick to catch ejected casings.

I knocked over a row of bottles on the counter. Instinctively, I snatched one bottle and blindly hurled it at the gunman. He ducked when the glass bottle shattered against the doorframe by his head and splashed olive oil. His pistol fired. A bullet tore into the ceiling. Wendy flinched. Flakes of plaster rained down.

Fumbling with the next bottle, I threw it wildly and smashed it on the floor between his feet to make him dance as vinegar doused his legs.

I clutched the next bottle and knocked loose the glass stopper. The liquid splashed on my skin and burned like acid. The pungent odor of garlic oil stung my nose. I yelped and jumped back.

A bullet gouged the countertop inches from my hand.

Desperately, I grabbed another small round bottle and cocked my arm.

“Not that one,” Wendy shouted.

Too late. My arm whipped around and the bottle shot from my hand. The bottle struck above the door and sprayed the gunman with liquid that immediately turned into a white cloud of vapor.

The spikes of the gunman’s aura blunted and writhed, signaling his confusion. His pistol trembled. He teetered against the doorjamb, fired again and missed.

A fine mist from the vapor settled on my skin and soothed the burning pain. An intense sweet flowery smell overcame me. Dizzy, I leaned against the counter to keep from falling over.

Wendy groaned in disbelief and floated to the floor.

The sunglasses couldn’t hide the alarm in the gunman’s expression. The spikes of his aura became short and dense like fuzz. His posture relaxed. He smiled, a wide slash of big teeth.

The gunman walked toward me, holding his left hand up to reach for my face.

I wanted to shrink away from him but didn’t. From the depths of my confusion, I felt the swoon of anticipation.

His thick fingers clasped the back of my neck. He pulled me forward tenderly. Wrinkles and tiny pockmarks marred his complexion, yet I found him irresistible. His smile condensed as his lips pressed together. Our lips barely touched.

Droplets rained on my skin. Immediately my desire turned into mortification. The face which seconds ago seemed handsome now repulsed me. Both the gunman and I shoved each other away.

He squeezed his tongue between his teeth as if to scrape away any taste of me.

Likewise, I wiped my mouth in disgust. More droplets drizzled onto my skin. Wendy worked the trigger of a small brass spritzer to mist the gunman and me. As my skin absorbed the droplets, my revulsion intensified.

The gunman retched and staggered out of the kitchen doorway and onto the back porch. “Next time, Felix,” he yelled. “Next time.”

He lurched toward a wooden gate at the far end of the small yard. I lost my would-be assassin in the dazzle of the afternoon sun. A car door slammed in the alley. The sudden squeal of tires meant someone had been waiting for him.

Wendy set the spritzer on the counter and didn’t move until the sound of the car faded. She tiptoed over the broken glass on the floor, seemingly unaffected by the lingering vapor. She pushed the kitchen door closed and pulled the curtain tight over the window. The darkened room calmed and soothed me.

I slid against the counter cabinet until I rested on the floor. Spots danced across my vision. “What the hell happened?”

“You threw a bottle of love potion. That’s what saved you.” She raked her fingers through her tresses, now stringy and oily. “You can see what it does to my hair.”

“I’ll buy you shampoo.”

Wendy pointed to the spritzer. “I had to counteract the potion with a repulsion tonic. Not that I wasn’t tempted to watch you and our visitor go at it. But I have dibs on you. He can wait for his turn.”

“It’ll be a long wait.”

“I hope so. He wasn’t a vampire hunter, was he?” she asked.

“No. He wasn’t from the group who attacked me before. But I’m positive he was the guy who whacked me on the head. He’s come after me at least twice already.”

“Then who is he? And who sent him?”

“I’m guessing the same people behind the cover-up at Rocky Flats. I was warned my investigation into the nymphomania was more important than murder. I didn’t figure that might have meant my murder.”

I picked up a fragment of the bottle that had contained the love potion. “Maybe this was the cause of the outbreak.”

Wendy shook her head. “I doubt it. It’s love potion, not Spanish fly. Did any of the women mention falling for their…uh…conquests?”

“No. The outbreak was all about grinding genitals. Plus, their auras changed colors from red to yellow. The gunman’s didn’t.”

“So why come after you?” She pulled a candle and matches from a counter drawer. “What makes you such a threat?”

“That’s the frustrating part. I wish they’d tell me. So far I haven’t discovered anything worth killing someone over. At least from what I understand.” I squinted at the candle. “More magic?”

“Depends on your definition of magic. I prefer to think of it as chemistry humans haven’t yet discovered.” Setting the candle into a glass holder, she lit the wick. Smoke from the candle flame carried the smell of sage through the kitchen.

The spots in my eyes faded. The fog of dizziness eased.

Wendy’s aura crackled again. Glancing to the door, her eyebrows narrowed and creased her forehead. “Think he’ll come back?”

“Not if he figures he might end up kissing me again. But if the question is, are we still in danger? That answer is yes.” I pushed to get off the floor but was too weak.

Wendy opened the refrigerator and pulled out a steel bottle. She squatted beside me and uncapped it. “Here. It’s bull blood. The taurine should rejuvenate you. I was hoping to use it to prolong our play time but that can wait.”

I sipped the cool blood and rested. Wendy brewed herbal tea and sat opposite me on the floor. She folded her legs and the hem of her blouse covered her hips. The steam from her mug carried the aroma of chamomile and lemon.

“That was pretty ballsy of you,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“You could’ve clung to the ceiling and attacked from above. At first I thought that’s what you were going to do. Instead you faced him head-on.”

I didn’t want to admit that my ballsy head-on attack was the fault of my weakening powers. Wendy’s love potion is what saved us, not my heroics.

As dusk fell, the curtains on the windows became dark rectangles. Strength returned to my limbs. I went to the living room to retrieve the rest of my clothes. I decided to contact Bob Carcano and have him watch my back while I hunted for the gunman.

Wendy followed. “You leaving?”

I buttoned my shirt. “Some asshole just tried to kill me-us-so I need to do more than watch you drink tea. Let’s get going.”