It hasn’t gone far.
The truck has been pulled off to the side of the road. I don’t have to use vampire hearing to know what is going on. The driver has climbed into the back, the cries of his victim shattering the early morning quiet. When I leap inside, I can scarcely believe what I see.
Two of the girls are lying in pools of blood, their throats slashed. The third is barely visible under the half-naked body of the man on top of her. He is pushing at her and grunting, a knife at her cheek.
I feel my control slipping. Fight to get it back.
You need the man. Take control, Anna.
It’s too late. The smell of spilled blood turns my mind as black as night. Vampire roars in blood lust and rage. I can’t hold back.
The driver turns to look at what beast screams in a human voice but with such inhuman fury. His eyes widen and he pulls away from the girl, backing himself into a corner. His member shrivels and the sharp smell of urine staining the front of his pants is evidence that his fear has made him lose control.
I approach like a stalking tiger.
He holds out the knife.
As if that flimsy blade is any match for vampire. It takes the merest flick to break his hand at the wrist and fling the knife away.
He screams.
I want him to scream. I want to break every bone in his body, tear limbs one by one, until there are only pieces left and I can suck the life juices from them.
I make him cower in that corner. Make him wait for the pain to come.
But vampire is too caught up in the feast she is about to devour. She doesn’t see until it is too late.
The girl. She is on her feet. She snatches the knife from where it fell on the floor. Too fast and too filled with rage even for vampire, she lunges before I can stop her. The knife slashes across the man’s throat. The arterial spray covers my face, and its smell and texture is too compelling. His body spasms. With a glance back at the girl, I grab him, hold him to my chest, bury my face in his neck and drink.
CHAPTER 28
REALIZATION AND REASON RETURN WITH A JOLT.
The human Anna comes back in an eye blink, horror at what vampire—at what I have done.
Shit. I sit back on my haunches, wiping blood from my face with the sleeve of the pristine white shirt Maria gave me.
Pristine no more.
What do I do now?
A sound, a small, mewling whimper makes me jerk around.
The girl, the one attacked who became attacker, sits beside the bodies of the slain girls, crying softly.
Surprise that she’s still here, that she didn’t run away in horror when she saw me feed, that she’s not screaming, shakes me.
She looks up when she feels my eyes on her. Her expression doesn’t change. There’s no fear, no tensing of her body in preparation for fight or flight. There’s only resignation in her gaze. As if surrounded by so much death, she accepts that hers is inevitable.
After all that’s been done to her, does she welcome it?
I don’t know what to do. I rack my brain for some phrase to offer comfort, to offer assurance that I mean her no harm.
“No te hará daño. Soy amigo. ¿Habla Inglés?”
Even as I say the words, I mean no harm, I wonder how she can believe it after what she saw me do.
But she only shrugs and replies, “Sí.”
Relief washes over me. At least we have a chance to communicate.
She wipes at her eyes with the corner of the blanket she’s pulled back around her trembling body. But she says nothing. She’s waiting for me.
I place a hand on the center of my chest. “My name is Anna. What’s yours?”
She squares her shoulders, sits up straighter. “Adelita.”
Still no emotion. She doesn’t seem to care what I am or what I did. She asks no questions.
Better not to push. She is calm. I will be, too.
“That’s a beautiful name. You are very brave, Adelita. Now we need to move this truck off the road and hide it until we can decide what to do. I have some friends not far from here who will help us. You are barefoot. Do you think you could walk if I gave you my shoes?”
She shakes her head. “I will take his,” she says, pointing to the man, spitting the words as if having to mention him raises bile in her throat.
I am sitting closest to him so I reach over and untie the shoelaces on what looks like a brand-new pair of Nikes. Thankfully, they are clean inside. I hold them out to Adelita. “He has surprisingly small feet for a pig,” I say.
She understands and a slight smile touches the corners of her mouth. She holds up a thumb and forefinger and squeezes them close. “He was small in many respects,” she says.
She slips the shoes on her feet and laces them. She has delicate features, brown eyes and hair. The small smile she showed me before is gone, her lips pinched tight. But it gave me a hint of the pretty girl she must have been.
I wish I had clothes to offer her but I didn’t exactly pack for this trip. I motion to the open door and climb out. She follows, trying to manage the blanket. It’s too coarse too wrap like a sarong.
“Maybe I can fix it a little,” I offer, holding out a hand.
I think she may object, but surprisingly, she simply hands the blanket to me and stands naked and still.
Maybe she’s been through so much, she can’t imagine things could possibly get worse.
Her frail body is mottled with bruises.
I think I guessed right.
I fold the blanket in two and rip a hole in the middle with my teeth. When I hand it back, she slips it over her head, and it falls around her like a poncho, the ends reaching almost to the ground. There is a roll of twine and some duct tape lying in a heap by the door. I measure out a length of twine and snap it off. She winds it around her waist, tucking the sides of the blanket close so her body is covered.
She nods her thanks.
And waits for me to take the lead once more.
We walk to the front of the truck and I peek inside. The keys are in the ignition. “Get in. We’ll move the truck so it can’t be seen if someone comes by.”
She crosses to the passenger side and slips in. The windows have been rolled up and the cab smells of sour breath and sweat-stained clothes, nauseating reminders of the dead man in back.
For the first time, the young girl, the raped and beaten little girl, cannot control the responses of her horrified mind and body. She flings open the door, leans out and retches.
I don’t move. Don’t offer a comforting hand. Don’t utter false comforting words.
Nothing I say or do could make things better. She’s been through hell. Maybe her body’s way of coping is to purge. Vomit out some of the misery and despair and make room for something better. Maybe with the emptiness can come a little hope.
Maybe.
But for now, I leave her alone. After a moment, she stops. Her breathing becomes more regular. She remains leaning out of the truck.
I look around the cab. There’s not much here—a pack of cigarettes and some matches, a half-empty bottle of water, a rag stuffed behind the seats. The rag is dirty and reeks of oil and gasoline, but it’s all we have. At least it doesn’t carry the scent of the dead man. I hand it to her along with the water bottle. Adelita takes them, rinses her mouth with water and spits, wipes her mouth and nose, and releases a deep breath.
“Gracias,” she says, straightening in the seat, slamming the car door closed. She drops the rag to the floor and turns a tear-streaked face to mine. “We can go now.”
CHAPTER 29
I CRANK THE ENGINE OVER AND PULL THE TRUCK BACK onto the road.
“I need to ask you a few questions,” I say. “Are you up to it?”
“Yes.”
“Who were you with in the village?”
“I don’t know for sure. No one ever said his name. They called him El Jefe.”
“How did you and the others end up there?”
A catch
in her breath. “Some men came to my school. They said they had work that would pay well. They said we would be gone only a week and would be brought back to our village after. They said we would be treated with respect.”
Her voice drops off. When I glance over, she’s pressed the palms of her hands against streaming eyes.
“I’m sorry to have to—”
“No.” She regains herself quickly, wipes away the tears with the back of her hand. “I want to help. What do you need to know?”
“How long have you been gone from your village?”
“Longer than a week. Three weeks, I think. I lost track of time.”
“The men who took you, do you know where they come from?”
“Near San Fernando. They spoke of it often during the drive. How they were anxious to return there when they finished delivering us. How they hated these trips because the ‘cargo’ was so much trouble. Running drugs was a lot easier.”
Adelita has been staring straight ahead as she speaks, her voice steady but without nuance. She could be reciting a school lesson or repeating a tedious anecdote told to her by a tiresome old relative.
I look around as we drive. There are few places to hide the truck and I begin to worry how long we have before someone comes looking for it.
Time for another plan.
Off to the left about one hundred yards there is an outcropping of rock. I leave the road and head toward it.
Adelita glances over. “What are you doing?”
“I can’t see any way to hide the truck. I don’t know how much time we have before it’s missed. If the driver’s friends come looking, I want them to find an accident that will convince them no one escaped. I may need to siphon gasoline from the truck to start a fire.”
She nods that she understands. “There is gasoline in a plastic jug in back. I don’t know how much is in it.”
“I’ll check.”
The truck bounces and rattles over the desert floor, making conversation impossible. It takes effort just to lock your jaw and grind your teeth together to prevent the jarring from shaking anything loose.
As we approach the rocks, I slow down and stop. “I want you to get out here. I’ll see what’s in the back that we can use.”
“I want to help,” she says.
“I know. And you will. But I can take care of this. You should sit here in the shade and rest.”
She draws in a breath as if to argue, but I reach across her and open the passenger door. “Please. Trust me. Do as I ask.”
And after a moment, she does. She climbs slowly out of the cab and finds a shady place under a scrub oak. I wait until she’s settled to put the truck in gear once more and head for the rocks.
When I’m ten yards out, I stop again. I don’t relish going into the back of the truck, but I know what I have to do. When I open the doors, the smell of blood hits me with the force of a blow. It’s hot inside and close and the harsh buzz of flies already drawn to the bodies makes the atmosphere even more unpleasant.
Even vampire is repelled. But it’s vampire strength I need so I call her forth. Reluctantly, I climb into the back of truck. I don’t look at the girls. Not yet. The driver I heave onto my shoulders and jump to the ground. I take him to the cab and prop his body into the seat. Then I return to the back just long enough to find the gas can Adelita mentioned. I give it a shake. It’s almost full.
Now comes the hard part. I have to make it look to the casual observer that there are three bodies here, not two. I hate touching their bodies. It seems disrespectful. But I drag them together so they’re near the door and almost on top of each other. As if they died trying to get out. I sprinkle gasoline over the bodies, whispering an apology to the girls. I am about to burn away their very existence. The only offering I can make is the promise to avenge their deaths.
I slam the back doors closed, snap the padlock. There’s a small porthole window in one side of the doors. I use my elbow and smash it in. I don’t want to take the chance that the fire might be snuffed out for lack of oxygen. I want it to burn long and hard.
I carry the can to the cab. I push the dead man over and squeeze in next to him. I soak him and the cab in gasoline. Then I turn the ignition and put the truck in reverse.
I see Adelita in the rearview mirror. She is watching, concern and uncertainty on her face. I take one of the cigarettes from the pack in back of the seat, carefully light it, throw the match out the window. When I judge I am far enough away to create the right impact, I change gears, jam the accelerator to the floor and the truck leaps forward.
I open the door, ready to jump out but stupidly, I have miscalculated. The truck hits the rocks before I can jump with enough force to crumble the hood and shatter the windshield. I bounce forward against the steering wheel, the sickening crack of a rib making me recoil with pain. The cigarette falls from my lips and the cab becomes an inferno. I throw myself sideways out of the burning cab and roll away.
The ball of flame leaps skyward. I hear Adelita running toward me before I see her. From her vantage, she could not tell if I escaped the inferno. When she sees me climb to my feet, her relief is physical. She grabs my shoulders and hugs me to her, speaking in Spanish and crying until her body shakes.
Against the pain of broken ribs, I put my arms around her and hug back just as fiercely.
CHAPTER 30
AFTER A MOMENT, I PUSH ADELITA GENTLY AWAY. “We need to get out of here. I’m sure they’ll spot the fire in the village. We can’t be here when they come to see what happened.”
She steps back. “Where are we to go?”
I take her hand and lead her back to and across the road, going as quickly as I can. I feel the broken bone begin to knit, but the process would be much less painful if I could just stop and let the magic of vampiric healing work unfettered. Instead, the constant tug and pull of keeping up a brisk pace makes me wince with every step.
Adelita sees it. She stops abruptly. “You are hurt.”
“Never mind. It’s nothing. We can’t stop now. My friends are not far. We need to get to them as quickly as possible.”
She frowns but I turn away and keep going deeper into the brush. Already I hear the rumble of a motor approaching from the direction of the village. Adelita can’t hear it, but I can. If I were by myself, I’d wait and see who they sent out. See if the fire coaxed Santiago from his hiding place. But I can’t risk Adelita’s safety. If anyone spotted her, she’d most likely be blamed for the accident. My hope is that I can get her back to her home or at least have Max send her to a safe house while we finish what we came to do.
Adelita and I continue toward the spot where the three men hunkered down to await nightfall. It’s hot, dirty work, pushing through bushes that catch and scrape at our skin and arms. There are clouds of pesky no-see-ums that rise from under trampling feet and swarm around our heads and into our eyes. I guess we traveled farther in the truck than I realized. Finally, we’re at a point where I think I can reach Culebra telepathically, and I draw Adelita to a stop.
“We’ll rest here a minute,” I tell Adelita. Seems more plausible then telling her we’re stopping so I can contact my shape-shifter friend via a mind meld.
Adelita’s look of sympathy says she figures I want to stop because my ribs hurt, and she doesn’t argue. She does hear the engine from the approaching vehicle now and takes cover. She makes herself as small as possible by folding her body against the thickest clump of bushes she can find. There is fear shadowing her eyes again. I mimic her action and place a finger to my lips.
The sound of a truck engine draws closer to the scene of the “accident.” I put off trying to communicate with Culebra so I can listen to the flurry of activity—doors opening, footsteps running, excited yelling. I understand some of the conversation. First there is confusion as to how the driver, a new guy, could have left the road and hit the rocks. Then anger that he must have been drunk or high. Finally, a furious round of arguing as to who would be the unlucky on
e to break the news to El Jefe. He won’t be happy that he lost a truck or that the driver cost El Jefe the income he would have gotten from the girls when they were put to work back in town.
That last bit brings a bitter smile to my lips. Obviously El Jefe didn’t know that the new guy had his own plan for the girls. Rape and murder. He’s probably better off dead. So is Toadie if he is the unlucky one who got him the job. I remember how they glad-handed each other in the village.
I catch Adelita watching me with a curious expression on her face. She can’t hear what I hear. She must be wondering why I’ve grown so still, head tilted in the direction of the road. She doesn’t ask questions, though, only waits for me to indicate that it’s safe to continue our trek. Under normal circumstances seeing me become vampire should have sent her racing in the opposite direction. Instead, here she is, quietly waiting to follow my lead. Her faith in me is extraordinary.
After ten minutes or so, the men return to their truck and head back to the village. The smoke rising from the burned vehicle thins out, and I wonder if I should go back and see how completely it burned. Hopefully, there is too little left to make it obvious two bodies and not three were in the back. If we were in a city, a forensic team would scope it out in a heartbeat. Since I doubt Horatio Caine and his crew are vacationing anywhere near this dump, we may just get away with it.
Time to see if I can reach Culebra.
I open the conduit. Culebra? Are you awake?
The answer comes back immediately. Yes. Where are you? Did you find Santiago?
I’m close. I don’t know about Santiago. There is someone hiding in that village. But he never came out. I have a girl with me who may be able to help. I’m hoping Max has a picture in that bag of tricks he brought.
A girl?
I give him a brief recap, including what I found when I followed the truck and how Adelita and I took care of the problem.
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