Mario Acevedo [Felix Gomez 02] X Rated Blood Suckers (v5.0) (pdf)

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from me. Success.
Just as his front tires crested the dip, black smoke belched
from the exhaust pipe. The truck slowed, stopped, and rolled
backward.
Get out of the way, Coyote shouted and waved his arm for
emphasis, as if the ton and a half of rust rumbling at me wasn t
enough to get my attention.
I stepped away and let the truck coast to the bottom of the
dip and continue up the other side for twenty feet then slide
back to the bottom. I wish I had my big new Chrysler rental,
but that remained where I had left it, close to Trixie s Bistro.
Coyote circled his finger and whistled. Otra vez. Again.
How about I drive and you push?
Chale. It takes magic to start this baby.
Your magic doesn t seem to be working well.
That s cuz you don t believe.
On the third effort, his miserable excuse for transportation
chuffed along the street. I ran after it and scrambled into the
passenger s seat.
Looky here. Coyote raised his right leg to show me an
oversize chrome pedal in the shape of a foot. This is what I
bought. Classy, no?
Not as classy as a starter.
Vato, you know what your problem is? You have no sense
of barrio style.
Cragnow Vissoom lived along the ridge of the Santa Monica
Mountains. On the way there we would pass where my rental
car was parked, but when we got there, the Chrysler was gone.
Stolen? Or towed away by the police or renegade vampires.
Regardless, it meant going to Cragnow s in this humiliating
wreck.
Coyote asked, Did you see Veronica?
I spent Monday night with her.
How s that going?
Not sure. I told Coyote about my warning to Veronica
and her reaction. But no matter what, I won t let anything
happen to her.
What about the other vieja? The one you met at Daniel s
funeral. Coyote mimed with his hands, as if he held two large
cantaloupes.
272 MARI O ACEV EDO
You mean Polly Smythe? She can take care of herself.
Why, you want to meet her? By the way . . . I pulled Coyote s
hands farther apart.
His eyebrows danced upward. That big? Then yeah, maybe
soon, ese.
One thing nags me, I said. What does Lara Phillips have
to do with any of this? There s a lot of shady business between
her boyfriend the reverend and the others in this case. Why
would she be involved with a man so close to those who wanted
Roxy out of the way?
Maybe Lara s trying to find answers of her own?
I didn t get that impression, I replied. In fact, the oppo-
site. She s hiding something.
We drove to Beverly Hills and started the ascent up Cold-
water Canyon Drive. Some homes were brightly lit and cheery,
others ensconced in gloom. We passed acres of stately mansions
with manicured hedges and postcard-perfect king palms. Mer-
cedes coupes and sedans along the curbs meant that the fancy
wheels Bentleys, Lamborghinis, and Royces occupied the
garages.
The higher we climbed, the smaller the homes became and
the closer they crowded the road. Lawns shrank to narrow
strips and disappeared altogether. Near the top of the ridge,
Coldwater Canyon merged with Mulholland Drive. At the cor-
ner of the next turn, a dirt road led between two rustic stone
columns that formed the mouth of a tunnel through the dense
overgrowth.
That s it, I told Coyote. But don t slow down.
Coldwater Canyon Drive angled away from Mulholland and
down to the San Fernando Valley. We stayed on Mulholland
until we found a house with a FOR SALE sign. A month s worth
X- RATED BLOODSUCKERS 273
of newspapers littered the front stoop. We pulled into the nar-
row driveway, parked, and sneaked through the underbrush to-
ward Cragnow s estate.
Coyote and I found a clearing in the scrub, waited, and lis-
tened. There was no breeze to rustle the leaves and mask move-
ment. Little red auras darted in and out of the thatched cover.
A raccoon crawled along the branches of a gnarled oak. Mice
skittered in the grass. An owl hooted. A snake pushed through
the dry leaves on the ground.
A Land Rover came up Franklin Canyon Drive and turned
east on Mulholland. Three red auras advertised the human oc-
cupants. The Land Rover drove by and left.
Moving as carefully as the little animals of the night, Coyote
and I made our way through the dry thicket and rocky ground.
I was on the alert for a supernatural presence, but I shouldn t
overlook human methods: video cameras, sensor beams, and
trip wires. I didn t see any, but again, we were still a quarter
mile from his place.
We eased through a cut in the spine of the ridge and contin-
ued in an easterly direction until we came across the driveway
onto Cragnow s property. We were farther north than expected.
The gravel road curved to the left. Through the tunnel of trees I [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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