“I was about five seconds away from it myself,” I said. “Psycho killer rats. That’s a new one for me. Whatever disease they’re carrying must be making them-” I stopped, my head jerking up. “Clay? Nick? Did you get bit-”

Clay put up his hand to stop me as I sprinted over, ready to check him myself. “They only got Zoe.” He glanced at Nick, frowning. “You didn’t-”

“You didn’t leave any for me, remember? Deprived again.”

“Left you one.”

“Which you killed.”

“Are you sure everyone’s okay?” Zoe said. “I smell blood.”

Clay lifted his arm to check the bandage. It was soaked with blood.

“Shit,” he said. “That must be what the rats smelled.”

“Here,” I said. “Let me-”

He waved me off. “Got a few more strips on this shirt. You work on picking up a trail. I’m guessing if Nick circled back, he lost the zombie, right?”

Nick nodded. “We both did, so we came to grab Elena to see if she can pick up the trail. There’s roofing tar over there, and I can’t smell a damned thing except that. Where’s-”

“Lost him too,” I muttered. “So much for our bird in the hand. Come on.”

We made it just to the other side of the trailer when Clay’s head jerked up, gaze going north, following something. A second later, running footsteps thundered through the construction yard. A young man in a security uniform raced around the corner, a sandwich in hand. The absentee guard, returning to his post, he hoped, before anyone noticed he’d been gone.

Clay swore. Zoe stepped closer to Nick and motioned for us to head toward the road. The guard saw us, lips parting as if to call out. Zoe waved with one hand and gripped Nick’s arm with the other, then she motioned to the far road. Just two couples taking a shortcut through an empty construction site. The guard nodded and waved us on. We’d have to pick up the trail off the site.

Broken

Logically, there had to be a trail. Three, in fact-Rose’s, the bowler-hatted man’s and Hull ’s-but we couldn’t find them.

Twice I caught that whiff of rot that told me one of the zombies had been by, but after following them for a few feet other scents got in the way. Hull was even tougher, lacking that special zombie odor. His story might be complete fiction, but if he did come through that portal, that was why we hadn’t picked his trail up at the site.

After twenty minutes, the blood seeping from Clay’s arm had soaked through a third bandage. We decided-or I insisted and Nick backed me up-to take Clay back to the hotel so Jeremy could have a look.

Not wanting to walk down the road trailing blood, we stopped in an alley to apply a fourth bandage while I called Jeremy and toldhim not to expect that Cabbagetown delivery, but to return to the hotel for Clay.

“There goes another shirt,” Clay said as he handed me the remains of his T-shirt.

“Here,” Nick said. “Use mine.”

“No, mine’s garbage already.”

As I tore a strip for the bandage, I couldn’t help noticing Zoe…hovering. All three of us turned to look at her, perched on a trash bin, leaning toward Clay, gaze fixed on his bloodied arm.

“The answer is no,” Clay said. “Yeah, it’s going to waste, but it’s not teatime, so stop drooling.”

“Ha-ha. I was just considering whether I should offer to help.”

“By sucking up the rest of it?”

“No, by drooling. You must be used to that, Professor, students drooling over you.” She hopped off the trash can. “In this case, though, it might be more welcome than I suspect it usually is. I could stop the bleeding.”

“How?” I said.

“Vampire saliva stops blood flow. Keeps our dinner from bleeding out once we’re done feeding. I can do that here.”

“Do I wanna ask how?” Clay said.

“Normally, I’d lick the affected area, which I know neither of us wants, so may I suggest some discreet expectoration onto that bandage?”

I looked at Clay. He nodded, grunted a thanks and I handed Zoe the bandage.

Zoe’s saliva did the trick. Ten minutes later, as we walked down Bay Street, Clay’s bandage was still white. But while that meant he wasn’t strolling downtown wearing a bloodied bandage, he was still half-naked. With each honk or whistle, Clay’s hands jammed deeper into his pockets and he stepped a little farther into the shadow of store awnings.

We’d been searching for a taxi since leaving the museum but, like everyone else, they seemed to have taken a personal day.

“I could take off my shirt too,” Nick said.

“There’s an idea,” Zoe said. “Wait, let me grab my lip liner. I’ll write ‘Meet us at Remingtons’ on your backs.” She grinned. “Bet they’d get a crowd tonight, cholera or no cholera.”

“Leave your shirt on,” Clay said.

Zoe looked at me. “We could take ours off too. In a show of solidarity. It’s legal here.”

“It is?” Nick perked up. “Why have I not seen a single topless woman the whole time I’ve been here?”

“Because, outside of beaches and concerts, you probably won’t. And if you do? They won’t be anyone you want to see topless. Every time I see one, I thank God for eternal youth. But, still, it is legal.” A sly look my way. “So, if you want to take your top off…”