Dead on Delivery by Eileen Rendahl

sweat. “You don’t look great either.”
    He swallowed hard. “Boy, you sure know what to say to a guy.”
    “How about this? Take my cell phone. Call Alex. Tell him we’re on our way.”
    “I don’t need your cell,” he said, fishing his own phone out of his pocket with his left hand and dialing awkwardly. “I have him on speed dial, too.”
    “Since when?” I wasn’t exactly sure why it bothered me that Alex and Ted might have been talking without me, but it did.
    “Since last spring.”
    “What do you talk about?”
    “Stuff.”
    “What kind of stuff?”
    “Melina . . .” Ted held the phone up to his ear.
    I glanced over at him. He really didn’t look good. “Got it. We’ll talk later.”
    I gritted my teeth and drove.

    ALEX MET US AT THE DOOR TO MY APARTMENT BUILDING holding an old-fashioned leather doctor’s bag. He slung one arm under Ted’s armpits and helped me hoist him up the stairs. It was one of those times that I really questioned the intelligence of living in a third floor walk-up. Could have been worse, though. We could have been walking into Sacramento County Hospital trying to figure out how to explain what had happened to Ted. “Thanks for not making me take him to the hospital,” I said.
    He shook his head, dark hair flopping over his forehead. “I get it. The less questions, the better. Now what exactly happened? Prince Charming here wasn’t exactly totally coherent on the telephone.”
    “Mexican devil dog,” Ted said, his eyes burning. “’Tacked us out of nowhere. Crazy!”
    Alex looked at me. “Delirious?”
    I shook my head. “Nope. A cadejo. Or the son of a cadejo.”
    He whistled. “Any idea why?”
    “Not really,” I admitted.
    Alex glanced at me from around Ted. “I’m betting you’re going to want to know now.”
    “Pretty much.” I grunted as we hoisted Ted up another stair.
    “You realize someone probably sent him after you as a warning.” We stopped for a moment on the second-floor landing to rest.
    I was reasonably certain that Alex could have carried Ted the rest of the way up the stairs without my help, but I appreciated his discretion in letting Ted do as much as he could. It wouldn’t do to emasculate the one actual living breathing man I had in my life. “I hate it when they do that. It just makes me want to dig deeper.”
    Alex smiled. “You think they’d learn by now.”
    “Why?” Ted asked. “She hasn’t. Someone warns her. She sticks her nose in farther. It’s the Melina Way.”
    Alex chuckled. “It is at that.”
    We were almost to the apartment. I figured I could defend my honor later. “I think I better go ahead and clear the way. You okay here on your own for a few minutes?”
    They both nodded. I glanced at Ted’s bloody arm. The bleeding had stopped, but there was still some oozing. I glanced back at Alex again. “You’re sure?”
    “What? You think your boyfriend’s blood is so tasty and delicious that I can’t control myself for a few minutes? Dream on, sister. He’s not that special.” He leaned against the wall, looking like the picture of casual nonchalance.
    Ted looked affronted. “My blood’s not good enough for you? I’m B positive. Only like ten percent of the population has that.”
    “I’m sure it’s delicious,” Alex assured him. “But I already ate.”
    I grinned and bounded up the last flight.
    My grin faded as I tried to open the door and was stopped by the chain again. I opened the door as far as the chain would let me. “Norah, it’s me,” I said, with the slightest soupçon of guilt over the fact that it wasn’t just me. Then I sneezed. A little cloud of smoke came out of the door. I banged harder. “Norah! Are you okay? I smell smoke.”
    She took the chain off. “What’s wrong? Why are you out of breath?”
    I countered with, “What’s that smell?”
    “Sage. I’m smudging the apartment.” She opened the door the rest of the way. Our little entryway was a maze of