by Matt Kincade
The Don grinned wider, his vampire teeth fully visible. “You have some skill with a blade. For a woman.” He parried away another flurry of blows. “French school. How unfortunate.” Carmen attacked again, ferociously, and he allowed himself to be driven back.
The Don retreated unhurriedly, casually flicking away her blade. “And yet I see another influence,” he said, “Japanese? Yes. Japanese. Did your cowboy teach you that? Ah, yes. I see it in your eyes. I must say, I’m surprised to see you here. Surprised he did not kill you. Why is he not here? Did you kill him instead?”
Carmen answered by attacking with renewed fury. The Don merely batted the blade away, then flicked the tip of his sword across her thigh, parting the denim of her pant leg. A red line appeared on her exposed skin and blood flowed freely down her leg. She snarled, keeping her blade pointed at him.
He circled slowly around her. “And I see you have Armando’s sword. Do you know the things that sword has seen? For five hundred years, Armando stood at my side with that blade. And then he was murdered, through cowardice and treachery. By a cowboy and a stupid woman. You think you deserve that sword? You child.”
Carmen lunged again. Don Carlos batted down her blade then went on the attack. Carmen found herself losing ground, using all her skill just to keep the Don’s steel from cutting her down. She felt the first wild flutter of desperation. His blade moved faster than she could see. The Don, unfazed, drove her back toward the wall. At last he sliced at her sword hand, and the blade clattered to the floor.
The Don lunged. His blade ran through her chest and drove deep into the wall. Carmen screamed in agony, the sword a blowtorch flame splitting her chest. Blood welled from around the blade in a dark, spreading stain on her shirt. She fixed him with a look of pure hatred. “Just finish it, you bastard.”
Don Carlos let go of his sword. It stayed there, stuck in the wall, with Carmen impaled upon it. “I give you credit. You have spirit. More spirit than skill, perhaps. I could let you live, but then you would come again and again, until I had no choice. I sense that in you. The anger. The…how do the Italians say? Vendetta. Tell me, before I kill you, what did I do to you to make you hate me so?”
“You exist. You’re evil.” With every breath, every movement, the sword sent new oceans of pain surging through her chest.
The Don feigned hurt. “Am I evil? I say my prayers. How is it evil to live the life that God has given you? Is a wolf evil when he falls upon the lamb? Must we all not kill to live? Must you not kill to live? How am I any worse than you?”
“You enjoy it,” Carmen spat out. “You kill the innocent.”
“Mija, no one is innocent. And people die every day. Wars, famine, car crashes, heart attacks. Of the immigrants coming over the border, dozens die every day. Of thirst, of heatstroke. They’re shot by gangs, shot by police. So much death…and for nothing. Is it so wrong that I take a few so that I may live? Is it better for them to die so that I will live, or for them to die trying to get to Los Estados Unidos to pick lettuce for pennies a day? This country is a hungrier vampire than I. I take a few lives. It takes thousands upon thousands. I kill cleanly. It kills by degrees, over a lifetime. This country thrives on the lifeblood of those it exploits. How is it different, what I do?”
“How can you say that? You treat them like meat, like a commodity.”
“Are they not?”
“They’re people! They have lives and families and hopes! Until you murder them.”
The Don cocked his head, thoughtfully. “I ask again…what did I do to make you hate me so?”
The words left Carmen’s mouth of their own accord. “You killed my sister!”
Don Carlos nodded. “Ah. I understand now. Blood vengeance. A noble motive.” He kicked Carmen’s sword to the other end of the room before pulling his own sword from her chest. Blood poured from the wound. She screamed again, short and sharply, and collapsed to the floor in a heap.
He stood over her, holding his sword. Blood dripped from its point and onto the floor. “When did I do this thing? When did I kill your sister?”
She glared up at him. “Your men. You kidnapped her when she was crossing the border.”
“Ah…” A calculating look crossed The Don’s face. He briefly touched the point of his chin with a forefinger. “Tell me, what was your sister’s name?”
“Mia. Her name was Mia Carranza”
The Don turned away and whispered to one of the men present. The man left, and a minute later a plump, middle-aged Mexican woman appeared. The Don shot a rapid-fire string of Spanish at her, and she responded in kind. She left again.
“Your sister is alive,” said the Don.
Sitting on the floor, Carmen scowled at him. “You’re lying.”
“Why would I lie? Do you think I eat all of them? I have a household to maintain. Your sister had housekeeping experience, so she was assigned to the domestic staff. No matter. You will see for yourself in a minute. Get up.”
Carmen hauled herself to her feet and stumbled into a chair. Her chest had already healed, but her shirt was still soaked with blood. She seethed, as if she could kill Don Carlos with a look.
He ignored her as he leaned casually against the great wooden table. An attendant handed him a towel, and he wiped Carmen’s blood from his blade.
The plump Mexican woman reappeared. Mia was with her.
Her beauty was a fine-boned delicacy, as if she might snap in a strong wind. Her brown eyes seemed too big to be contained by such a delicate face. She had long black hair much like her sister, but her figure was slender and boyish. She wore a simple blue housekeeper’s dress, like all the other girls.
Mia looked around the room, dazed, like a drugged animal. She tugged halfheartedly at the woman’s hand around her wrist as she stared at the Don with terror past any hope. She didn’t notice Carmen.
“Mia?” said Carmen. She stood up from the chair. “Mia.”
Mia seemed to hear her, but it was a moment before her brain caught up. She slowly turned her head and saw the woman standing there. She blinked as though it were only a mirage. “Carmen?” she said.
“Dios mio,” said Carmen. She ran forward and put her hands on Carmen’s shoulders.
Luisa looked at Don Carlos. He nodded, and the matron let go of Mia’s hand.
“Carmen? What are you—”
Her words were cut off by Carmen’s embrace. Carmen hugged her sister, tears streaming down her face. “Dios mio,” She said again and again.
“Is it really you?” said Mia. “What are you doing here? How—”
Carmen pulled back from her and looked her in the eyes. “I said I’d find you. I’d always find you.”
“But how did you—” Mia was crying now too.
“It’s…it’s complicated,” said Carmen. They both looked at the Don. “Don’t you worry about it,” she reassured her sister. “I’m going to take care of you. From now on.”
“Luisa,” said the Don. “Make up a room. Make up two rooms.”
Mia poured out her story in a torrent of mixed English and Spanish, tears streaming down her face. Carmen held her tight, making shushing noises. The Don stood aside and observed, lightly tapping his chin with his fingers.
When Luisa returned, Don Carlos said, “Take the girl to her room. Carmen and I have matters to discuss.”
Mia looked questioningly at Carmen but allowed herself to be led from the room.
“So…” Don Carlos examined his fingernails before raising his eyes to meet Carmen’s. “Life is strange, no?” He took a leisurely step. “Just when you think you have nothing left to lose, you find that you still do.” He looked out the window. “A word from me and she dies. You know this.”
Carmen didn’t respond.
“You can save her still, you know,” said the Don. “All you have to do is…exactly what I say.”
“You bastard.”
Don Carlos merely smiled. “Call me names if you must. But think carefully. Who do you
love more? Your sister or your cowboy?” He paced the room. “Your sister is still alive for a reason. You know why? Because she is useful to me. She does her job well. She does what it takes to stay alive. She has stayed useful. The question is…will you do the same? I will give you time to think this over. But know this: disobey me, defy me, attempt to escape, and I will drink Mia’s blood while you watch. Then I will behead her. She will not be as lucky as you.”
Don Carlos snapped his fingers, and two servants appeared. “Take Carmen here to her room,” he said. “She is to be given every comfort.” The servants led Carmen away.
Jacob hadn’t said a word the whole time. He had sat in a chair in the corner, watching the show. The Don turned to him and said, “Follow me.”
Jacob stood up and trailed his boss down the hallway to the Don’s private chambers. A young Latina girl, dressed in the same blue dress as Mia, was cleaning the mantelpiece with a feather duster.
Don Carlos seized the girl by the hair and tore her dress down to the waist. She screamed and crossed her scrawny arms over her breasts.
He tore her neck out in one bite. Blood sprayed, as much on his face as in his mouth.
Jacob checked his phone.
The Don lapped hungrily at the fountain her neck had become. She flopped like a fish on a hook, more and more weakly as the blood drained from her body. She trembled, then went still. The blood stopped. The Don dropped her corpse to the floor.
“I feel better,” Don Carlos said. He pulled out a silk handkerchief and wiped his face.
Luisa appeared out of nowhere and picked the dead girl up under the armpits. The girl’s heels dragged on the floor as the older woman pulled her out of the room.
“I don’t get why you’re doing all this,” said Jacob. “We could torture this Carmen woman for information, find out where Alex Rains can be found, and then we can go on the offensive. She’s been with vampire hunters for at least a couple of weeks. She knows them. She knows their names, what they look like, where they gather. We could get a lot of good information from her.”
Don Carlos Mondragon opened a wooden cabinet and pulled out a bottle of his namesake wine. He peeled off the foil and dug a corkscrew in. He poured two glasses and handed one to Jacob.
“Pain,” he said. “I want the cowboy to feel pain.”
Jacob shrugged. “You want pain, we could do pain. It’s not that complicated.”
“But why bother? He will come to me. Archimedes said, ‘Give me a place to stand, and with a lever I will move the whole world.’ This girl, Carmen, she is the cowboy’s lever. As long as I have her, I can move him however I wish. And if I control the sister, I control Carmen. In that motel room, I meant for him to kill his lover with his own hands, and he defied me. I mean to finish it. If I control the sister, I control Carmen. I will make him fight his lover to the death. If he wins, then I finish him. If not, I finish both of the women.”
Jacob scratched the back of his head. “Still seems more complicated than it needs to be.”
The Don smiled thinly. “I am a stubborn old man. Forgive me my diversions. I enjoy my little games.”
“Well, you’re the boss. But there’s one other thing I really feel I need to bring up.” He took a deep breath and released it. “I hate to say it, but this place…this mansion, this vineyard. Things are coming to an end here.”
“Never,” the Don snarled over his wineglass. “I have been here four hundred years. This is my home.”
Jacob shook his head. “The world is changing. The world has changed. It’s a miracle you’ve gotten away with this as long as you have.”
The Don sank into a red leather-upholstered chair by the window. He swirled his wine in the glass. “For four hundred years, people have come and gone here. A hundred times I’ve said to myself, this is it. Time to move on. The river will run dry. People will catch on. And yet every time I am wrong. This lovely border, this lovely country, it keeps bringing me disposable people. People disappear, and no one notices. No one cares. And nothing changes.” He took a sip of the wine and ran it over his tongue, savoring the profusion of flavors. “Some vampires must travel the world to feed. They seek war zones, genocides, plagues, all manner of human suffering, just to cover the evidence of their work. And here I sit all this time.” He leaned back in the chair and crossed one leg over the other. “Like a spider in a web. I stay here and I grow my grapes, and I feed off this country’s apathy. When will that ever change?”
Jacob sat on an ancient oak bench against the far wall. He, too, sipped his glass of wine. “Don Carlos, you know I’ve always told you the truth, even if it isn’t what you wanted to hear. Information is…I mean, it’s the information age. These days any idiot can go on the Internet and look at satellite pictures. The government is digitizing old records and putting them online as fast as they can, so anyone can look at them from anywhere. You don’t have to go and search dusty basements anymore. It’s getting easier and easier to put the pieces together. And this guy, Alex Rains…he knows where you live. If he does, I guarantee a dozen others know also. If they don’t know already, it’s only because Alex wants you for himself. He could tell the whole world with the click of a button. With a Facebook post. You can’t just bury information anymore. You can kill him, but they’ll keep coming. And they won’t stop coming until they take your head. You’ve got to start thinking about moving on. They will come for you here. It’s only a matter of time.”
The Don sighed and took another sip of wine. “You are right, of course. It is difficult to admit this to myself. At my age, one becomes set in one’s ways. Nevertheless, I will deal with the cowboy in my own way. Then we will worry about other matters.”
***
Still in shock, Carmen sat on the edge of the bed. The room was lovely and elegant, like everything else in the house. The bed was an ancient four-poster, clearly carved by hand. Ornamental tiles detailed the window frame. Iron bars over the window divided the view into nine separate squares.
She heard sobbing from adjoining room and knew it was Mia. She knocked on the door connecting the two rooms then tried the knob, but it was locked. She applied pressure to the doorknob. The doorjamb splintered, and she pushed the door open. Mia stood facing her. Her eyes were red and puffy, and tears had left trails down her face. “Carmen,” she said. She looked closely at her sister. “You’re one of them, aren’t you?”
Carmen paused, considering. Finally she nodded. “How did you know?”
“You just broke the door with one hand.”
“Oh yeah.”
Mia looked away, wiped her nose with the back of her hand, then met her sister’s eyes again. “How did it happen?”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s not what I wanted. I just can’t believe you’re safe. This changes everything.”
“Don’t trust him,” said Mia. “He’s the Devil.” She shuddered. “If you knew what goes on here, every night, the things he…” She broke down crying again.
Carmen put her arms around her, and Mia didn’t stop her. “Don’t worry anymore,” said Carmen, running her hands over Mia’s hair. “I’m going to get you out of here. I don’t care what I have to do.” Something occurred to her. She pulled away and patted her pockets. “Where’s my phone?” she said.
***
Alex limped up his driveway. The sun was low in the morning sky. He’d walked all through the night, through the sunrise, and only just had returned home. Dark blood was crusted on his face and stained his shirt. The front door still hung open, and he walked into his living room. With a groan, he flopped onto the couch. He sat for a moment, catching his breath, then found his phone. He dialed Carmen’s cell.
The phone rang. Alex tapped his fingers on the table while it rang again and again. Finally a voice came on.
The voice was low and smooth, like silk on steel. “Hello? This is Alex, no?”
Alex didn’t respond. The Don held the phone to his ear and grinned. “Is this the cowboy?”
; “Where is she?” said Alex.
“She is here, with me. Where she belongs. With her own kind.”
Alex said nothing.
“Perhaps there was something she needed, something you could not provide? Something that brought her here to me?”
“Goddamned son of a bitch.”
Don Carlos laughed. “Now, you see, I have something you want. So I make the terms. You come here, alone. No friends, no reinforcements. Bring your sword.” He paused for a long moment. “Or your precious woman dies.”
“See, there’s where you’re wrong, asshole.” Alex growled. “She ain’t my girl. For a while, I thought that might work out. Thought she was still the woman I loved. But that girl’s dead. She ain’t nothin’ to me now ’cept one more vampire. One more thing I gotta kill. Only thing you got that I want is your head. But other’n that, you’re right on the money. ’Cause I’m comin’. I’m comin’ real soon.”
***
Daylight. Mia sat on the stone edge of a little round fountain and trailed her fingers in the water. Koi nibbled unshyly at her fingers. Squinting in the sunlight, she looked around at the elaborate garden. Not far away, Luisa stood unobtrusively next to an armed guard.
Carmen looked down at her sister from the second-floor window. She peered from behind half-closed drapes, in the safety of the shade. Even then the sunlight hurt her eyes. As she watched, Mia stood and wandered down the brick path, beneath the wisteria-laden arbor. She ran her hand along the dark green jasmine as she walked. She moved like someone in a trance, someone who had just walked away from a car crash.
“Such a simple pleasure.” The Don had come up behind her without her realizing. “Sunlight. Had I only known, I would have enjoyed my last day of sunshine more. She is lovely, your sister. The sunlight is where she belongs.”
Carmen turned around and faced him. “How dare you,” she said. “She told me all about this place. She told me about you. She’s lived in terror for months. This place is worse than a concentration camp. You act like you give a shit, but a day ago she was nothing but food to you.”