“Can I ask something?” he said.
She inclined her head, raising an eyebrow at him. “What?”
“How’d you do that? The bird thing. Changing.”
“It’s natural to me. It’s like walking. You just learn to do it one day.”
“Does it hurt?”
“No.”
He tried to picture what it might be to have feathers growing from his head, to have talons instead of fingers. He could not, and remained puzzled.
“It’s not that odd. Not for us,” Atl said with a shrug. “There are some who can turn into … Hmm. ‘Wolves,’ I guess, would be the right word.”
“Have you seen a vampire become a wolf?”
“That I’ve seen, yes.”
“It sounds neat. Though I still think turning into mist would be cooler. Kind of sucks nobody does that.”
“You can’t have everything,” she said.
Domingo wondered if she could fly. He’d ask her another time. He didn’t want her to get mad again.
“You did well, by the way,” she said.
“Yeah?”
She smiled at him. “Yeah.”
“They’ll come back in ten days if I don’t go to the health unit, but I figure that doesn’t matter, right? We should be gone by then,” he said.
They walked back to the living room. Atl stood by the window, glancing at the sky, then tugged at the curtain, blocking off the light. “We’ll go out when it’s dark.”
“Where to?” he asked.
“We need a gun.”
CHAPTER
18
The bars in the downtown core were coming alive by the time they got off at the station in El Zócalo, that great plaza that had existed since the time of the Aztecs. Old houses, built in the nineteenth and eighteenth centuries, spread around them, transformed into restaurants, shops, and entertainment joints. She kept Cualli on a short leash as they drifted among the crowds of revelers ready for a late night, and even when they moved to side streets and alleys that were empty, she kept the dog close. She felt safer with the Doberman by her side.
“I think it’s around here,” Domingo said, squinting. “It’s hard to tell.”
“You said that two blocks back,” she reminded him.
“No, I’m pretty sure this time.”
Atl gave him a noncommittal look and snorted. Guns were difficult to come by legally in Mexico City; there were only a couple of authorized stores in the whole city and you required a letter from the local police department attesting you didn’t have a criminal record. Plus, you needed your ID papers. Atl had neither, so she must find an illegal supplier. Easy, if you knew someone, and Domingo said he did. Harder, when Domingo couldn’t remember where the supplier lived.
Atl had never had a burning desire to own guns. Her sister had given her a switchblade knife, which Atl kept tucked in her jacket, and a gun, which she’d left behind. But she hadn’t had much of a chance to use either. The gun had been gold-plated and custom engraved, with flourishes and hummingbirds. She remembered the weight of the weapon and how it felt the first time she raised it, pointing at a pile of bottles they’d arranged for this purpose. Atl’s aim was terrible and Izel had a good laugh at her expense, but after the first few appalling misses, she started to get the hang of it. Although Atl could never handle a firearm as well as Izel, she had managed to become a fairly decent shot.
“Ah, here,” Domingo said, and crossed the street. “This is the place.”
They stood before the entrance to a vecindad. The heavy wooden door was not locked, and Domingo pushed it and they walked into a narrow hallway.
It was not a nice vecindad, not one of those palaces that had been repurposed and repainted, made to look like a palatable pad for yuppies and artsy types after the rental freeze ended in the ’90s. The walls of the vecindad were bare, old stone, cracked here and there. There were cables running above their heads and along the walls.
Stealing electricity, she guessed.
The hallway soon opened onto a large patio with many stone sinks and lines set for drying clothes. There were doors leading into apartments every few meters and a big staircase at the other end of the patio. A group of girls walked by them when they reached the foot of the staircase, dressed in their nightclub finery, their skirts short and the perfume heady. They giggled when they saw Domingo, whispering a few words, but when their eyes settled on Atl they did not laugh, apparently intimidated by the sight of her dog. The girls scattered away. Domingo and Atl went up.
Mid-staircase they came face-to-face with a large shrine to the Virgin of Guadalupe. Domingo paused to pay his respects, making the sign of the cross. Atl merely stared at the face of the religious icon. Her family had been priests of the God of War and though they no longer worshipped in the same fashion, she had no desire to follow the customs imported by the Europeans. Saints and virgins and angels.
They veered on the second floor to the left and stood before a door. Domingo bit his lip.
“What?” Atl asked.
“It’s just I don’t like being here. This guy is friends with the Jackal.”
“Can he get me a gun?”
“Yes, I’m pretty sure he can.”
“I don’t care if he’s friends with the devil. Let’s do this, unless you have another weapons dealer.”
“Can’t say I do,” Domingo mumbled.
Domingo knocked on the door, creating an echo that bounced down the hallway.
The door opened and a woman, her hair dyed an absurd shade of cherry red, which was almost a requirement for young women, stood in the doorway in a fluffy bathrobe, frowning. “It’s late,” she said. “What do you want?”
“I’m here to see Mario,” Domingo said. “I’m Quinto’s friend. He brought me here one time, with Belén and other people.”
“Mario! It’s one of the street kids that hangs out with Quinto!” the woman yelled.
“Let him in,” came the reply.
The woman stepped aside and let Domingo in, but then she made a face at Atl and pointed at Cualli. “You can’t come in here with your animal.”
“My animal goes where I go,” Atl said.
“Your animal—”
“What’s the deal?” asked a male voice, and Atl saw a burly, pale man standing behind the woman.
“She’s got a dog. I don’t want it in here,” the woman explained.
“Let her and the damn dog in; they’re here for business.”
The woman rolled her eyes and flicked her hair behind her shoulders. Atl walked into the small apartment, the man motioned toward a table, and they sat down. The man sat across from them. Behind him she saw a poster of Rambo II on the wall. A large TV and a couch occupied a good portion of the living room/dining room area. The rest of the space was taken up with boxes.
“You’ve got to forgive the girl; she ain’t got no manners. I’m Mario. What can I help you with?”
“Guns,” Atl said.
The man gave a snort of laughter. “That’s a different one. Kids like you, they usually want pot.”
He probably thought them a couple of fools who were headed out to dance to cumbias and ruidosón. In the North the hot thing was to gather and dance at a slaughterhouse, the décor the carcasses of cows.
“You have them?” she asked.
“I have them,” the man said. “Something lightweight?”
“No. The most powerful one you’ve got; .454 Casull would be nice.”
The man whistled at her. “Damn. What you gonna shoot?” he asked.
“Polar bears.”
“A little girl like you and a big bear?”
“I’m not a girl,” she replied tersely.
The man chuckled. “Bring me the howdah and a box of bullets,” he told the woman.
The woman made a face, but returned with a box of bullets and a wooden box and placed them on the table between them. The man stood up and walked next to Atl, lifting the lid and handing her the weapon. It was a
double-barrel pistol in glossy black.
“Inspired by British hunters who used weapons like this to hunt elephants and tigers. A modern take on it, but still very nice. I was going to sell it to one of my regulars, but seeing as you need to hunt polar bears”—the man gave her a smile—“I could be persuaded to change my mind. For the right price.”
“I’m very persuasive,” Atl said.
“Are you?”
“Sure,” Atl said, placing a wad of bills on the table.
“That don’t look too persuasive.”
Atl added two more bills to the pile of money.
“Well, what do you know. You were right. Can I also interest you in some pot?”
“We’re busy. But it was great meeting you,” Atl said, grabbing the weapon and the box of bullets. She had no desire for chitchat. Judging by the face of the red-haired woman, neither did she.
“Yeah,” Domingo said. “It was super great.”
It started to rain when they reached the street, a drizzle that could hardly be called rain, but Domingo still pulled up his hood. She was grateful for the drops splashing on her head. She took off her jacket, wrapped the gun and the box of bullets with it.
“Do you know how to shoot it?” Domingo asked.
“Sure I do.”
“You’ve owned many guns?”
She thought of Izel, her arm firm as iron as she aimed. First-born. Stronger, better than Atl at everything. “Not really. My sister did.”
“If you shoot a vampire, can the vampire die?”
They jaywalked their way across the street, moving fast.
“With regular bullets? No. But if they find me, it’ll be humans who come after me. Rodrigo can’t afford to bring vampires into the city.”
Unless Nick is with him, she thought. He probably is.
She’d asked for a powerful gun for this reason, just in case. It needed to have a kick in order to do real damage or it would be like throwing marbles at him. Last time they’d met she’d been lucky. She didn’t know if her luck would hold.
Atl frowned. She did not want to think about that now. They’d successfully contacted Bernardino and Elisa, procured a way out of the city, and evaded sanitation. So far, so good. It was not worth spooking herself over Nick and Rodrigo when they might never find her.
“Tell me more about the Jackal?” she asked, because Domingo had brought up the guy before and she was curious.
“He’s a dude that organizes dog fights and stuff.”
“Yeah, all right. How do you know him?”
Domingo took out a piece of gum and chewed it noisily. “He was a guy with the street kids I lived with, older. They call him the Jackal ’cause of the way he laughs. You had to do what he said. He’d give you candy to sell and take a cut. Or he’d send you to wash car windows at an intersection. When he wasn’t telling me to wash cars, he’d have me go to the place where he kept the dogs he used for fighting. I helped clean the cages.”
Domingo glanced at her from the corner of his eye. His voice had grown more hushed and now it was a whisper, though Atl could hear him well enough and see him also in the semidarkness of the streets.
“There was a girl, a street kid, Belén. The young girls, the pretty ones … he was always after them. Always trying to sleep with them. Belén, though, she was going out with me. She wasn’t … I mean, I dunno, she wasn’t a girlfriend girlfriend, but it was close enough. He gave her presents and he was real sweet to her.”
“What happened?”
“I told Belén she shouldn’t go with the Jackal, that he was nasty. The Jackal figured I was the one putting ideas into her head, you know, that she wasn’t shacking up with him because of me. So he decided to teach me a lesson.”
Domingo took a deep breath, as though he were about to dive underwater. “He told me my meddling was costing him some fun times with Belén and that I’d have to pay him for causing him grief. He said I was such a damn talker, talking Belén’s ear off, that maybe I should put my mouth to good use. He told me I should get on my knees and kiss his shoes. He made a big show of it, told everyone to watch as I did it. Said he’d have his friends beat me if I didn’t.
“So I did. And then, he tells me to lick his boots. And then he takes off his shoes and tells me to lick his damn feet clean. So I did it. I couldn’t look at anyone in the eye and I felt Belén staring at me all day long. I thought of running to the subway and throwing myself on the tracks.”
He raised his head and looked at Atl, his eyes very large and honest. “That’s when I left the street kids. I went away and started collecting garbage. Everything was better. Only she wouldn’t leave with me. She stayed and she’s with the Jackal.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“It’s fine,” he said with a cool firmness that made him sound beyond his age. “Things change. I’m glad they’ve changed. Besides, I’ve met you and you’re pretty nice.”
His words were devoid of malice or deceit; they made her grimace, slicing through her composure. She wanted to touch him and so she extended her hand, meaning to lace her fingers with his, snatching it back at the last minute.
“You have too high an opinion of me,” she said. “One day, I think you’ll realize that.”
CHAPTER
19
It was late in the afternoon by the time Ana found the needle in the haystack. She’d combed through recent police reports and moved to sanitation reports. A fresh one had just come in, courtesy of an eager, anal worker who filed it pretty darn quick.
Domingo Molina. Male, 17, no ID papers, no health issues, required to visit nearest health unit to register himself. Has pet, biomodified Doberman. Also not registered, also required to visit health unit for registration.
Ana pulled out the envelope Kika had given her and found the photo she was looking for. It was the girl, Atl, with her dog. She had a large Doberman with a tessellation of light running down its neck. The report talked about a boy, but Ana felt sure she’d hit the jackpot.
She raised her head and looked at the desks around her, glanced at Castillo’s office. The door was closed. Quickly she gathered her things and headed out.
The cab dropped her around the corner from the apartment she was looking for. There were a couple of kids standing in front of the entrance. She showed them Atl’s photo, but neither one recognized her. Ana went around the block, showing the picture to other people, but they shrugged.
She was dying for a smoke. A few blocks up the street there was a busy avenue and she found a convenience store. Once inside she hesitated, and in addition to the cigarettes grabbed a diet soda and a yellow puff pastry wrapped in cellophane. She doubted it contained a single natural component, but sometimes synthetic is what you are after. The cashier rang the items.
“Hey, have you seen this girl by any chance?” she asked, holding the photo up.
The cashier stared at the photo, frowning. “Yeah, I’ve seen her a couple of times. What she do?”
“Runaway,” Ana said. “When was the last time you saw her?”
“A few days ago, I think. She didn’t take her change. It was a big bill.”
“Thanks.”
Ana stepped outside and lit her cigarette. She enjoyed the smoke for a few minutes before she took out her cell phone and sent a text message.
She grabbed a cab and waited at a twenty-four-hour automat, which was baby blue throughout, from the tables to the chairs and the machines dispensing the food. The whole retro vibe was very much in these days. It was too early for the late-night club hoppers to stream inside, so Ana had the place pretty much to herself, unless she counted the homeless guy asleep near the entrance.
Ana slid her credit card into a slot and pressed the touch screen. A sandwich came tumbling down. She moved to the drinks area, placed a cup under a spigot, and pressed the right code for coffee.
She sat in the back and glanced at the ornate carved ceilings, remnants of the 1910s. They were playing 1950s music, “Aquellos Oj
os Verdes” by the Trío Los Panchos. A clash of styles and eras.
Kika walked in briskly, sporting a long red coat and matching lipstick. She sat across from Ana, resting her elbows against the plastic table. She looked terribly perky, as if she’d just had two coffees and an energy drink mixed with a bit of coke to top it off.
“This is a bit casual,” Kika said, looking around. “You could afford a better dinner now that we are partners.”
“I like sandwiches,” Ana replied dryly. “I also have a lead, partner. I think I found where she’s staying.”
“You think or are you sure?”
“It would take more time for me to be sure, and I assume you’d like me to be quick.” Ana took out her notebook, scribbled the address, and showed it to Kika.
Kika nodded and took out a cigarette. “Smoke?” she asked.
“I’m fine.”
Kika shrugged. She lit her cigarette. Kika wasn’t very old. Mid-twenties perhaps. Atl and Nick were pretty young too. She recalled the savage pictures she’d seen and wondered what, if anything, separated her own daughter from kids like these.
I am what makes a difference, she thought. And I’ll make sure she never deals with any of this.
“Do you have any leads on Nick?” Kika asked. She slipped out her phone, her fingers flying as she texted.
Ana frowned. “I’m not God. You’re lucky I found her in the first place. It’s a huge city.”
“That it is,” Kika said, sliding her phone back into her coat’s pocket. “We’ll be picking her up in a few hours. Don’t tell your boss, but be there for the takedown. I’ll let you know exactly what time to meet us.”
“I’m a consultant, remember?”
“You won’t have to lift a finger. I just want to feel reassured. None of my people have ever dealt with a bloodsucker. We’ll have the equipment, but nothing beats experience.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to be hanging out with you in public,” Ana said.
“Come, come. You already took the paycheck.”
Ana felt herself blushing as she remembered that. Yeah, she’d taken the money. It was a good amount of money and she needed it if she was going to get herself and her kid out of Mexico City. She dearly wanted out. Out of her life, out of her uniform, and out of this bitch of a country.
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