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and escape. I tore open the galvanized steel wall.
Cool air tousled my hair. The breeze came from the left, the
direction of the air conditioner that should sit on top of the
building. I slithered into the ducting and crawled upwind.
Even though I was levitating, to move I had to brace my el-
bows, knees, and feet against the metal sides and push. The gal-
vanized steel buckled and sent groans echoing down the ducts.
Muted voices called for me. Someone fired a gun and bullets
thwacked the ducting, sounding like nails pounded into a can.
I crawled through piles of greasy dust and mouse nests. The
little critters leapt before me, as surprised as I would be if a
rhino charged through my home.
I climbed the final vertical shaft. Ahead, the fan from the air
conditioner roared and spewed an icy blast. I drew close, the
squirrel cage fan spinning like a gigantic mincer.
I reached behind me and ripped loose a long strip of the
galvanized steel. Carefully, I fed the strip into the fan, backing
away and letting go when the blades snagged the steel.
The steel strip wound around the fan cage, slapping the
sides, squealing, slowing with a creak, and then stopping. The
electric motor driving the fan moaned and began to smoke.
I reached through the fan and tore the drive belt. The elec-
tric motor immediately churned free, but no matter, the squirrel
cage fan wouldn t move. I grasped the central shaft and levered
the fan off its bearings.
Bracing my feet against the ducting, I pushed the fan aside to
make room to crawl through. My free hand touched a filter pad
silted with the residue of Los Angeles smog.
X- RATED BLOODSUCKERS 261
Christ, we breathed this air?
I straight-armed the filter pad and pushed through a lou-
vered vent cover, folding the metal.
I crawled onto the roof, the asphalt and gravel still warm
from the day s sun. I coughed to clear the crap inhaled from
inside the ducting. My mouth tasted like I d been chewing the
canister bag of a vacuum cleaner. I couldn t smell anything
through my clogged nose.
I sloughed the powdery grime from my clothes. The indigo
bowl of the evening sky faded to cobalt blue over the western
horizon. All around me, the horizon was lit up from the glow of
suburban lights.
The building sat in a small complex along a busy throughfare
that ran north and south. My best escape was through a nearby
stand of eucalyptus trees and then to find a way of crossing the
many miles back to Coyote s.
I dashed across the roof and jumped for the eucalyptus trees.
I swung through the twisted branches Tarzan style, weaving
through the trees until I was out of sight from the building.
Once I put enough distance between Venin s goons and
myself, I dropped to the ground and dashed into the street.
I sprinted behind a delivery truck and jumped on the rear
bumper. Clinging to the rear door, I rode along for several
blocks.
A Buick sedan crowded behind us, the driver a balding man
too absorbed with his cell phone to notice me.
We slowed for a traffic light and I dismounted, heading for
the parking lot of a Longs Drug. A sprinkler irrigated the grass
on the narrow strip between the sidewalk and a row of hedges
flanking the parking lot. I stopped to rinse my face and hands.
Without makeup, my skin had a translucent pallor. I rinsed my
262 MARI O ACEVEDO
mouth and spat, thankful to finally get rid of the awful taste of
air-conditioner duct.
Tall lamps illuminating the parking lot cast shadows on my
side of the hedge. Humans in their red auras sauntered to and
from the cars and the store. I had dropped my sunglasses and,
tapping my pockets, discovered that I had lost my contacts as
well.
With my makeup all but gone, in these filthy clothes, and
with my eyes unmasked my tapetum lucidum resplendent with
an unholy shine there was no way I could mingle with the
humans. A flatulent skunk would be less noticeable.
Still, I had to get away as fast as possible. Venin s undead
thugs would cruise the streets, on the watch for my telltale
orange aura.
X- RATED BLOODSUCKERS 263
C HAPT ER 38
- -- --
A Kia sedan sat in the middle of the parking lot. A middle-
aged woman in a burgundy dress and blazer took brisk steps
toward the little car. A short ponytail dangled over the back
of her collar. She passed through the circle of light under the
lamp, and the glare painted sparkling highlights on her face and
blond head. She chatted into a cell phone, a plastic shopping
bag hanging from one arm, and keys jangling from her free
hand.
She approached the Kia from the right. My path to her
would be from the left, her blind side. I could easily traverse
the parking lot and she wouldn t notice me until I was on her.
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