Bloodsucking fiends: a love story

someone to cover my section. I'll be there in a half hour."
    "Thanks, Simon." Jody hung up. What in the hell was going on?
    While she waited for Simon to arrive, Jody parried the propositions of two guys in a Mercedes who had mistaken her for a hooker. Not an unreasonable mistake considering she was standing barefoot on a back street in a low-cut cocktail dress on a cold San Francisco night. Finally, when she told them she was an undercover cop, their resolve softened and they drove off hanging their heads.
    Simon rounded the corner five minutes later and skidded to a stop in a cloud of smoking rubber and testosterone. He threw the door open for her.
    "Get in."
    Jody leaped into the passenger seat. Simon seemed a little surprised that she hadn't used the two steps mounted under the door. "You're steppin' high tonight, darlin'," Simon said.
    Jody closed the door. "Where's Tommy?"
    "Hold your horses, I'll take you to him." Simon put the truck in gear and roared off. "You sure you're feeling all right?"
    "Yes, I'm fine. Why couldn't you tell me what happened to Tommy on the phone?"
    "Well, he's hiding out. Seems the police want him for some murders."
    "The Whiplash murders?"
    "Those be the ones." Simon looked at her. "Ain't you cold?"
    "Oh, I lost my coat."
    "And shoes?"
    "Yes, and shoes. Some guys were chasing me." Jody knew she didn't sound very convincing.
    They were headed down Market toward the Bay Bridge. Simon grinned and pushed his black Stetson back on his head. "You don't get cold, do you, darlin'?"
    "What do you mean?"
    Simon hit the electric-lock button; Jody heard the lock go thunk at her side. Simon said, "You don't get hot either, do you? Or sick. Do you get sick?"
    Jody hugged the door handle. "What are you getting at, Simon?"
    Simon reached inside his jacket and came out with a Colt Python revolver. He pointed it at her and cocked it. "Now I know bullets might not kill you, but I'll bet they hurt like hell. And I put some little wood pegs in the hollow points just in case that does the job."
    Jody had no idea what a bullet would do to her and she didn't want to find out. "What do you want, Simon?"
    Simon pulled the truck into an alley and switched off the engine. "Couple of things. I don't know which I want first until you answer some questions."
    "Whatever you want, Simon. You're Tommy's friend. You don't have to be a hard-ass, just ask."
    "That's right sweet of you, darlin'. Now tell me, do you get sick?"
    "Everybody gets sick, Simon. I get a cold every now and then."
    Simon dug the gun into her ribs. "Don't bullshit me now. I know what you are."
    Jody looked closely at Simon for the first time. He was burning up, the heat coming off him in red waves, even in the relative warmth of the truck cab. But below the heat aura she saw something else that she hadn't seen the first night she'd met him. Maybe because she hadn't known what to look for. Under the heat signature Simon was ringed by a thin black corona, as she had seen on other people – the death aura, but thinner, as if it was just growing.
    She said, "Are you sure you're not just being an asshole again, Simon? Holding up your friend's girlfriend?"
    "Don't get slippery on me, Red. I saw you sleeping that day we partied at your house. I touched you. You're cold as a witch's titty. And Flood always complainin' about you sleeping all day. And how he had to have them turtles alive. But I didn't put it all together until the Emperor started screaming about vampires and the cops took Flood away."
    "You're nuts, Simon. None of that proves anything. There's no such thing as vampires."
    "Oh yeah? Well, you know why they arrested Tommy?"
    "No, I didn't know…"
    "Because they found you dead in the freezer, that's why. He's in for your murder, missy. I still had some doubts until you called just now. You'll be my first dead piece of ass, not counting the time I choked my chicken over a picture of Marilyn."
    Jody was stunned. A wave of panic swept through her, the inner voice shouting, Kill him, hide; kill him, hide . She fought it back. "You're doing this because you want sex?"
    "Well, that's part of it. You see, I ain't been well laid for five years – since I picked me up this bug. It's kinda hard to get yourself into a good three-toweler when you got the dick of death. I ain't no ass bandit, though. I let some whore from Oakland fix me up with a speedball. Six of us shared the needle."
    "You're dying of AIDS?" Jody asked.
    "No need to candy-coat it,