He wouldn’t smell right to any creature who had a heightened sense and to him, Drake didn’t smell right either. The man had a stench of something that was dead. He smelled of something that was deceased but walked among men all the same. His scent wasn’t as pungent as a corpse. It wasn’t as unappealing as a body rotting in the ground, left for the maggots to devour. He was a vampire. Jor-El knew of vampires, knew that they existed here and knew that they were myth back where his son had once lived. They received the nourishment that they needed to survive from the blood of humans. Most of them could not stand to be exposed to the sun. Their senses were stronger. Some were reduced to ash when slain. But not all.
Jor-El let go of his jacket, stepped out of his shadowed place in the alley and let his hearing absorb every sound that circulated the city. There were squealing tires and revving engines, beeping horns and conversation, yells and barking dogs. He could listen and talk at the same time. He could lend to the noise and hear it.
“You could say the same to me, but you should not. It would mean nothing coming from a creature like you.” Jor-El was unable to be intimidated. Threats did not affect him when he had the ability that he did. He had all of the powers that his son would have, all of the ones that the older Clark could master, and then more.
Something scurried at his feet, a calico cat fleeing into the alley in search of something to eat. He watched it go and when it jumped up onto a dumpster, he turned to Drake.
“If you are hunting here, you might want to consider finding another place.”