While I can understand why people like fantasy writer M. H. Ayinde would think that they can't smell you if you're wearing their blood, it's a little more complicated than that.
I’ve tested my theory twice now, just in my street. They don’t seem to notice me, though I swear they must be able to hear my heart thumping. I’m using a towel to cover myself with blood, an unholy anointment. I feel sick with fear, and revulsion. But I can’t wait here while everyone I love is out of reach.
I've heard these stories, but supposedly it's a combination of their blood and something else. Nobody knows what it is, but it may have something to do (oddly enough) with that towel. Ms. Ayinde, keep trying check your email if you can, as you'll be contacted soon by some scientists who will try to nail down exactly what it might be.
There are a lot of men with guns here who are very anxious to find out what this other substance might be.
Edit: Damn! I was so caught up with the information about the blood that I didn't realize that she had gone on some damnfool errand to save her family. God, I hope that whatever it is that's going on with her towel doesn't run out. We need that towel.