“What’s this ‘Let’s get going?’” Wendy rattled her mug of tea against a saucer. Her green aura surged up a notch in intensity. “I can take care of myself. I’ve got plenty of potions. If he comes back again, I’ll turn him into a frog and feed him to a duck.”

I found my cell phone and keyed Bob’s number. “I’d like to see that. Until then, I need to find the gunman. He’s got answers to my questions.”

“And he’s got a pistol, too. Don’t forget that.”

“I won’t.” Bob didn’t answer, so I left a message for him to meet me at my apartment.

Wendy escorted me to the front door. She rested her head against my shoulder and hugged me. “Be careful, Felix. We have unfinished business here.” She gave my crotch a light squeeze.

My fangs popped out. I touched them to her neck, then pecked her forehead and left.

Outside, I detected nothing unusual. With the onset of night, I didn’t need to worry about the sun burning me. Once inside my car, I slid my makeup kit from under the driver’s seat and covered my pale vampire complexion. I drove home. Bob’s Buick waited alongside the curb in front of my apartment complex. His engine was running.

Seeing Bob in his car, I parked my Dodge and walked over to him.

“I got your message,” he said. “You need to come with me.”

“Why?” I pointed to my apartment. “We can talk inside.”

“No time.” The lock on his front passenger door snapped open.

I got into the Buick and buckled up. “Where’re we going?”

Bob headed down the street. “The nidus council is meeting tonight to discuss the vânätori de vampir. We’ve already lost Ziggy and Andre. If we lose a third vampire, all hell will break loose. You know, fang first and ask questions later. The mood is ugly.”

“It’ll get uglier if they hear about this.” I described the attack at Wendy’s.

Bob’s aura lit up like napalm. “Damn it, Felix. Trouble follows you like a shadow. And we aren’t supposed to cast shadows. How do you know this gunman wasn’t a vampire hunter?”

“Because he came after me with an automatic and a silencer, not with a crucifix and a wooden stake. And he knew my name.”

“No shit! this does make things uglier. That settles it.”

“Settles what?”

“Tonight you tell the nidus what you know about the vampire hunters and this hit man. After that, you leave Colorado. Disappear.”

“Bullshit. I’m staying to finish my investigation.”

“Because you gave your word to a friend at Rocky Flats?”

“It’s a matter of principle.”

“What about your principles regarding the rest of us? And Wendy? Have you bothered to think about what that gunman intended to do to her after he plugged you? I doubt he was going to give her a sympathy card and flowers.”

“You let me worry about Wendy.”

Bob stared at his outside mirror. His aura shrank around him.

“Did you hear me, Bob?”

“Yeah, I heard you.” He divided his attention between the road and the rearview mirrors. “We’re being followed.”

Immediately my fingers and ears buzzed. I tipped my head to check the mirror outside my window. A Ford Crown Vic pulled close. A black one. “They’re right on us.”

“Vânätori?” Bob accelerated until we about tapped the bumper of a delivery truck in front of us.

I turned my head around to see.

The Ford surged into the oncoming lane of traffic and gained on us. A familiar aura filled the passenger side of the windshield.

“Not vampire hunters. It’s him,” I said. “The gunman from Wendy’s place.”

The gunman’s aura flared.

“Get down,” I yelled to Bob.

A swarm of bullets punched out our rear window.

THE GUNMAN PAUSED, as if reloading. His big hands manipulated the pistol. He kept his gaze fixed on me. His eye sockets seemed chiseled out of a head massive enough to use as a battering ram. He leaned from the window of the Ford and waved the driver to speed up.

My fangs sprang out. I reached across Bob and grabbed the steering wheel.

He tried to push me away. “What the hell you doing?”

“Taking the offensive.” I spun the steering wheel to the left.

Our Buick bashed against the Crown Vic. Sheet metal crumpled. Trapped within the door window, the gunman flailed his arms and yelled in panic as I slammed our car inches from his body.

After enduring these last days of having been chased and shot at, my kundalini noir coiled in vengeance within me. “I’ve had enough. This son of a bitch is going to pay.”

I let go of the steering wheel. “Take it, Bob. Keep our rear window even with the gunman.”

I dove into the backseat. I smacked the window and shattered it. I reached for the gunman and seized his thick arm. We locked gazes. I didn’t hypnotize him, as I wanted him to feel the pain of every cut and bruise I was about to inflict.

I bared my fangs and growled.

He blanched with terror and tried to yank free. “What are you?”

I laughed at him. “Your executioner.”

The cold night air whistled past as we hurtled down Speer Boulevard, he and I bridging the gap between our cars. I couldn’t reach to bite him so I punched him in the face. Blood spurted from his nose and over my fist. His pistol fell and bounced onto the street.

“I don’t care what kind of a freak you are, Felix,” he shrieked. The wind pushed blood across his cheek. “We’ll stop you.”

“We who?” I paused from punching him again. “Stop me from what?”

“Stop you from living.” The gunman drew his free arm and brandished a switchblade.

“Too late for that.” I parried the knife and grabbed this arm as well. Bracing myself against the inside of the Buick’s door, I yelled, “Now, Bob! Stop!”

He slammed on the brakes. Our car skidded and swerved. The gunman’s arms tugged against mine. He screamed. His bones cracked. I held fast until his body jerked from the Ford’s window, then I let go. His shoes flew off. He helicoptered in the air and flopped face down on the street. A car behind us had nowhere to turn and skidded over him, thump, thump.

Bob revved the engine. We whipped around to the opposite direction. Centrifugal force flung me across the backseat. Cars honked and dodged around us.

The Ford locked its tires and stopped. The driver hustled out and fired a pistol. Two slugs whapped into our trunk lid.

We raced away and took the on-ramp to Interstate 25, heading north. No one followed. I climbed back into the front seat.

Bob merged into traffic. “You like to make enemies, don’t you, Felix?”

“Doesn’t have to be about me. Maybe they don’t like Buicks.”

Bob smiled. “Too bad we couldn’t have finished them off properly. Shame to think of all that fresh blood getting dumped on the street.” The reflection of passing headlights twinkled along his fangs.

I massaged my knuckles. “Yeah, it would’ve been great to have fanged him but my fist breaking his nose felt good enough.”

Bob leaned toward me. “Is that his blood on your hand?”

“Yeah.” I opened the center console and found a small box of tissue.

Bob sniffed. “Smells good.”

I wiped the blood from my knuckles and handed Bob the tissue. “Here, have a taste.”

Bob put the tissue in his mouth. He rolled his window down and spit out the tissue. “Mmmm, not bad. It’s the adrenaline. Drinking donated blood gets bland after a while.”

A police car with flashing lights approached on the opposite side of the highway and continued past us.

“You just killed a man,” Bob said.

“I know.”

“And you feel no guilt about it?”

“Only that I didn’t kill him earlier.”

“So you’re okay now to drink human blood?” The question sounded hopeful, as if the correct answer would eliminate any lingering tension between us.

“The death of that goon changes nothing,” I said.