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.
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 told him 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…”
“Trust me, these days, I fall into that category of women no one wants to see topless.”
“I wouldn’t complain.”
Her gaze rolled over to Clay, expectantly. He just turned to watch a taxi zip around the corner, then swore when he saw it was occupied.
Zoe sighed. “Not even going to rise to the bait, are you, Professor?”
“Show me bait; I’ll rise.”
“Oh-ho. So you think just because I’m a woman-”
“Didn’t think that at all. Doesn’t matter.”
“Well, you may be prettier right now, but don’t forget who’s the one with eternal youth. In a few years, that six-pack of yours is going to look more like a collapsible cooler bag.”
“Yeah, probably.”
Another sigh. She started to say something else when a trio of young women ogled Clay, tittering as they passed.
I waved toward a variety store with a rack of tourist T-shirts in the window. “Want one?”
“Please.”
“I couldn’t resist,” I said as I handed him the folded shirt.
He shook it out and laughed. It read “Had a howling good time in Toronto ” above a picture of a mutant wolf with fangs as big as walrus tusks. Typical tourist wear-drawn by someone in a distant country who’d never actually seen a wolf, but was certain Toronto must be teeming with them, running alongside the Inuit, moose and polar bears.
Clay shrugged it on. “How does it look?”
“God awful,” Zoe said.
Nick waved a finger at me. “The joke will be on you five years from now, when he’s still wearing it.”
“That’ll bother you more than it’ll bother me.” I reached into the bag and pulled out chocolate bars. “I heard stomachs growling.”
I produced a bottle of water for Zoe.
“Ah, nice and cold,” she said as she took it. “You’re so sweet.” She glanced over at Clay and sighed. “And so wasted.”
“Damned shame, isn’t it?” Clay said through a mouthful of chocolate.
“Criminal.”
At the hotel, we left Nick and Zoe in the lounge. Upstairs, Jeremy popped his head outside his room almost the moment we stepped off the elevator.
“There you are,” he said. “I was about to go out searching for you.”
“It’s just a scratch,” Clay said.
Jeremy ushered us into the room. He gestured to the bed, and had the bandage off before Clay even finished settling. A frown, then he reached down to an already-prepared basin of warm water, took out the cloth, squeezed it and carefully sponged off the blood. As the wound came clean, Jeremy’s frown grew.
“It does appear to be-” he began.
“Just a scratch?” Clay finished. “Told you.”
“But why did it bleed so much?” I asked, drawing closer for a better look.
“It’s a deep scratch,” Jeremy said. “It looks as if it nicked a vein.”
Clay looked over at me. “Right again. I’m a genius.”
“No,” Jeremy said. “You’ve been hurt so often you can’t help but recognize the signs.”
“What about…?” I began, then paused. “It was Rose.”
“She’s worried about syphilis,” Clay said.
Jeremy shook his head. “Don’t be. Unless she bit him, that isn’t a concern.”
Jeremy cleaned it well, then plastered it up and told me to let him know if it started bleeding again or bothered Clay. No sense expecting Clay to tell him. To him, as long as the limb was still attached, he was good to go.
Once Clay was bandaged again, Jeremy and I both breathed easier, and I could tell Jeremy what had happened at the museum.
“So the zombies are catching on to our plans,” I said.
Jeremy nodded. “Meaning our chances of catching one, without serious risk, are rapidly diminishing. Time to take a break and focus on Shanahan.”
“I’ll talk to Zoe. See if she’ll be more forthcoming about him now.” I turned to Clay, who was picking up the tourist shirt. “Hold on. I’ll grab one of yours.”
“I like this one.”