Domingo’s eyes flew open wide. His face was pained, confused. He blushed and looked down at his feet.
Atl was equally confused, because as soon as she’d shoved him away she wished he’d touch her again.
“You should clean up too,” she muttered.
“Yes,” he said. “I will. I’ll come back.”
CHAPTER
27
Domingo wandered out of Atl’s room and almost bumped into the old servant, who looked ripe for a starring role in a Frankenstein movie. She handed him a bundle of clothes and Domingo went to his room, which Bernardino had shown him just a few minutes before.
The bathroom was huge, intimidating. The tub was made of porcelain, although time had eroded its shell, revealing the cast-iron interior along different patches. He spotted silverfish scuttling inside it, but when he opened the tap the water was nice and warm. He appreciated the soak and he liked even better the clothes that Bernardino had picked for him. The shirt was a pale cream with mother-of-pearl buttons and the trousers were of a nice black material. He put a vest on top and thought that he looked very polished and the sizing wasn’t too bad.
She’d like me like this. Of course she wouldn’t like me dirty and smelly. No wonder she pushed me away.
In the kitchen he found bread and cheese, and ate quietly by the sink. But then, glancing at his reflection in a pot, he felt doubt.
It doesn’t mean she’s going to like me.
He reached the living room, which was gloomy, lit by a number of candles, and sat down on an overstuffed couch. Cualli followed him in, lying at his feet. Domingo patted the dog’s head, letting out a sigh. A cat sat high upon a bookcase, eyeing the dog with an irritated stare.
A big clock stood against the wall next to him, ticking loudly. He’d never quite seen a clock like that in real life. It had a wooden case and everything. Domingo listened to it, following its ticking.
The tick-tick went on for a long while and its rhythm gave him enough courage to stand up and seek her out.
“Bad idea. You and Atl,” Bernardino said. “Your attempt at a romance.”
Domingo raised his head and looked at the vampire, who was standing by the door, holding an oil lamp between his hands. He looked the part of a vampire who had ventured forth from Dracula’s castle.
“I’m sorry?” Domingo replied.
“Don’t bother denying it.”
Domingo shrugged, unwilling to commit any words. Bernardino set his lantern upon a table and smiled at Domingo, though the smile was hollow and held no mirth. It was a copy of a smile. A fake.
“She seems to enjoy your company, she may even like you, and yet. Don’t deceive yourself, my boy, this is not a love story.”
Even in this dim light he knew the vampire could probably see the silly expression on his face, his open mouth, the surprise that made his cheeks burn and then quickly turn his face away. Too late, though.
Bernardino rested a hand against the lantern, and this time when he smiled it was different. It was a cutting gesture. Real and full of mockery. “Vampires, we are a diverse lot. So many differences. Yet we are united by one simple unavoidable fact: we are our hunger. It is no surprise, when you consider it. We have been surviving for a very long time against a rather cunning and adaptable foe. Humans are nothing if not adaptable. I can’t claim the same of us, though we are persistent. Yet we make it through, despite being outnumbered by your folk, despite times that change too quickly, because of that undeniable truth. In the end, we are always our hunger.”
Bernardino’s hand, splayed against the glass of the lantern, generated strange shadows that darted across the walls.
“I don’t understand what you mean,” Domingo said.
“Hunger. It is the primal instinct, the vector that guides our actions. Do you know, boy, what Atl would do, if faced with a choice between saving her life or preserving yours? She’d kill you. Love is a strange thing to us. We do not revel in it. We only know hunger.”
“That’s a load of crap,” Domingo said.
“Because she has not killed you yet?”
Domingo knit his hands together and stared at them. He remembered what Bernardino had said just a little while before, about ties that bind. “Your kind loves. You, for example,” Domingo said. “You must have cared about Atl’s mother. She must have been your friend. Why would you help Atl if not for love? Love for her mom, maybe, but love. You felt something for her.”
“You are confusing friendship with duty. Vampires have been governed by codes for ages and ages. The young ones, they’ve forgotten this. They forget the old rules, dismiss our ways. But I still live by my code. It is what elevates us from the animals.”
“Why do you care how I feel about Atl?”
“I don’t. Moths. Flames. It’s an old story. I’m merely making an observation. Something to pass the time, you might say,” Bernardino said.
Domingo slumped forward. Bernardino lifted his hand from the lantern and the odd shadows vanished. The vampire tilted his head slowly, as though he were trying to get a better look at him. Domingo could see the veins running across Bernardino’s face. His skin seemed as thin as the wing of a dragonfly. Bernardino was alien, completely different from Atl. When Domingo looked at Bernardino he saw the vampires of movies and legends. When he saw Atl all he could see was a young woman.
“Of course, you see wrong,” Bernardino said. “We are both exactly the same.”
It didn’t surprise Domingo that the vampire had read his thoughts again. He wondered what the whole point of talking was if the vampire could simply know what he was thinking, but maybe it wasn’t as precise as words. Maybe it was just fun. Something to pass the time, as Bernardino said.
“Ask me the question you want to ask me,” Bernardino said.
Domingo frowned. He was wondering if there were ever any exceptions. If maybe once in a while vampires could love. If that love might extend to a human or if it was restricted to members of their own kind.
The question sat on the tip of his tongue and then, all of a sudden, Domingo decided he wasn’t going to ask it. He needed to talk to her, not this man. He stood up, walking past Bernardino.
“She is my responsibility now, at least for a little while,” Bernardino said. “That pesky code I told you is at work.”
Domingo paused at the entrance. “Meaning?”
“It’s stakes and sunlight in the stories, isn’t it? The vulnerabilities, the things that can get one of us killed. Stakes, sunlight, garlic, those old, trusted weapons. But those are just things. The trouble comes if you make the mistake of forgetting the hunger. Forgetting what you are.”
Bernardino moved to occupy the couch where Domingo had been sitting, tangling his long fingers together.
“She’s young. It’s easy to forget if you are young. Easy to become confused. Be careful, Domingo. She’ll consume you, if you let her, but you could also end up costing Atl her life. We wouldn’t want that, would we? Stay down here. Keep your distance. Let her be.”
The clock began to chime, marking the hour. Domingo grabbed the lantern. “I can’t.”
* * *
Her door was open, but now that Domingo had climbed the stairs, he couldn’t make up his mind about whether he should walk in or step away. He elected to lean against the doorframe, looking at the bed where she slept. He understood what Bernardino had said, and yet he also had understood nothing. All he knew was that he liked this girl and maybe she liked him … and yet, Bernardino said … and she …
“It’s really weird when you stare at me like that,” she said, eyes closed.
“Oh?” Domingo said. “I’m … I’m a—”
“Come in.”
“That’s a bit of a reverse, you know.”
Atl shifted in bed, turning to look at him. “Reverse what?”
“Of vampire stories. Humans are supposed to invite vampires into their home, otherwise they can’t walk in. It’s like that, but the other way around.”
“I wonder exactly how much nonsense you read about vampires before you met me,” she said.
He loved the sound of her voice, like incense. It belonged in vast, elegant rooms lit with candles and strewn with fragrant, pale flowers.
“Quite a bit,” Domingo said. He placed the lantern on a side table and approached the bed, although he stopped short of sitting on it. He simply hovered next to her, biting his lip. “Most of it was probably wrong, but you never know.”
“Sit down. You’re making me nervous,” Atl muttered, sounding irritated.
He sat down and tried to recall exactly what he was going to tell her before he walked into the room, only to find he’d forgotten. If he’d known poetry he might have attempted to recite Neruda or at least express, in some small fraction of a way, how she moved him, how he wished he could rescue her, kiss the ground beneath her feet, anything, anything, he’d do anything for this woman. But he was a kid from the slums who didn’t understand much of poetry.
“I took a bath,” he said instead, lamely. God, he was so lame.
“Good,” Atl said. “Do you have a room or are you going to take the bed? I plan to sleep there.”
She pointed at a large chest sitting at the foot of the bed. Domingo supposed that Atl could fit inside it, although it wouldn’t be too comfortable.
“’Cause it’s a small space?”
“Yes,” she said.
“I guess it’s better than a coffin. Less morbid.”
She smiled, went toward the edge of the bed, and lifted the chest’s lid.
“Atl, wait,” he said, raising a hand, as if to signal her to remain still.
“What is it?”
He thought about what Bernardino had said about hunger and he also thought about the pretty shape of her mouth, and although he didn’t quite remember what he was going to ask, he realized he had a different question entirely.
“When we met, you said you hadn’t killed people. But you’ve killed a bunch of people in the past couple of days. Did you lie to me?”
“I thought you’d be scared if I told you,” she replied.
“It’s scary, all right. But you could have explained.”
“No, I couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because of the way you are looking at me.”
“I’m just looking at you, that’s all. It’s nothing weird. It doesn’t change stuff. We’re still friends.”
Atl gave him an angry huff and crossed her arms.
“Who’d you kill?”
“What do you care? It doesn’t change stuff,” she replied, mocking him.
“I’ve seen things. From your memories. It’s ugly. I know it’s ugly, I’m just asking.”
“What do you really want to know?” she said, her voice harsh and unpleasant. She had not asked a question. It was a challenge.
He realized he should keep his mouth shut and just let her be. He realized Bernardino was probably right. Domingo walked toward her, brushed her arm, gently seeking her attention.
“Atl, just tell me,” he said. “Please?”
“You’ll see me as a monster.”
“No.”
“Of course you will. You’ll be repulsed and I’ll deserve it. I am a dishonorable coward and an idiot.”
He reached out his hand and touched her cheek, and, thankfully, there was a confidence to the movement of his hand that he had not thought he possessed. Atl held his gaze, but made no attempt to move away or closer to him. He tilted his head slightly and planted a kiss on the corner of her mouth, very brief, like the question mark at the end of a sentence.
It was probably unfair of him to do a thing like that when she was tired and injured, but he had no idea what was going to happen the next day. Things were crazy, with people trying to kidnap them and kill them. God knew if he’d ever get a chance later. Maybe she wouldn’t like it and she would get mad at him, and he wouldn’t blame her if she did.
Atl didn’t seem angry, though. She looked lost.
“I killed two vampire boys and a pregnant vampire. And then, later, I killed an old man and a young woman. Humans, those two,” she said, her voice soft, like he hadn’t heard it before. “I’ve killed many people and I’ll continue to do it if I must.”
Domingo looked down at her. Atl’s eyes were very dark, filled with something that seemed grim, close to resignation.
“But you are a good vampire,” he blurted out.
Of course, there was no such thing and he knew it even before he said it. But he liked to believe it. He liked to think that there were heroes and villains, he liked picturing Atl as a damsel in distress. He liked the black and white of the comic book panels, the simple speech bubbles above characters. Good vampires. Bad vampires. And she had to be good because she was pretty and young and his friend. Right?
“I needed to kill them. No. I wanted to. I thought about killing you, too. More than once. You understand now?” she asked, the softness of her voice turning to iron. “No, of course you don’t. I can’t expect you to.”
Atl pulled away from him and crossed the room, to stand by a window, though she could see nothing outside since the curtains were drawn.
Words failed him. Not that he’d ever been particularly good with them. He stood in the middle of the room trying to make sense of everything, and though his brain had arranged the pieces very neatly, his heart was in a complicated knot.
“I understand.”
She gave him an exasperated sigh. “You could leave, you know?” she said, looking at him over her shoulder. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”
“I’ve known that all along.”
“Maybe you should go.”
There is a point when a man may swim back to shore, but he was past it. There was nothing left than to be swallowed by the enormity of the sea. Anything. He wanted her to know he didn’t care and he’d give her anything. “Not now.”
“Why not?” she asked, sounding exasperated.
“I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”
She held his gaze for a beat and then she smiled, just a tiny bit of a smile, and he thought he’d never seen anything as glorious as that smile, ever, and who cared about the rest if he could look at it a little longer.
CHAPTER
28
Rodrigo waited awhile, but he spoke when Nick started gnawing at a boy’s face.
“I think that’s quite enough. We need to get going before the cops come poking their heads in here,” he said, looking at his watch.
“Do you have her?”
“No, I don’t,” Rodrigo said, knowing that he might have caught Atl if he hadn’t had to pause next to Nick, to make sure the bastard didn’t suddenly die in the middle of a damn factory. But pause he did, and by the time he ran outside, the girl, the boy, and the dog had vanished. He walked around the factory, hoping to find a trace of them. When he went back to where he’d left Nick, the place was littered with bodies and the floor was sticky with blood. He’d almost slipped, and now stood regarding Nick as he continued to feast on the fools who had been holding Atl.
“We’re down three men,” he said. “It’s time we left.”
“Look at me! I need to feed!” Nick yelled, raising his head.
She’d blown off half his jaw and a part of a cheek. The flesh was starting to knit itself but it looked raw, like a damn hamburger patty. Nick started spitting teeth onto the floor. Teeth and blood.
“It’s not a corpse buffet,” Rodrigo said. “We need to head back to the apartment.”
The boy Nick had bitten wasn’t dead yet, despite missing a good deal of his face. He moaned pitifully. In response, Nick bent down and savaged him further, tearing chunks of flesh with whatever teeth he had left. At this point he wasn’t really feeding, just giving shape to his rage.
“Nick.”
Nick sprang up and grabbed Rodrigo by the neck, holding him up. His nostrils flared and he growled. Rodrigo couldn’t feel the ground beneath his feet. He
hated the thought of dying in the middle of this filthy place, strangled by this boy vampire, so he steeled himself, pushing down his fear and instead glaring at the kid with as much venom as he could possibly muster.
Nick snorted and let go of him. Rodrigo rubbed his neck, wishing he could cattle-prod this twat while knowing it was impossible.
“Done with your tantrums? Then let’s move it.”
“Fine,” Nick said.
* * *
Vampire anatomy. One of those things you never expect to take an interest in when you join a gang, when you become their lackey. Though, to be fair, Rodrigo had always been interested in how cars worked, so it wasn’t that surprising he’d discovered how vampires worked too. It had come in handy a few times. This was one of them.
Nick hissed and complained, but Rodrigo was able to disinfect the wound, apply an ointment, and apply a dressing with ease. Then he had to pull several of Nick’s teeth. It was better this way. New teeth would come in quickly. If he left the banged-up ones in their places it would only slow down the process. When Rodrigo prepared a shot, Nick frowned.
“What’s that?”
“The painkiller. Do you want to feel the skin and muscles growing?”
“It’ll make me sleepy,” Nick complained.
God, what a whiner he was. “You need to sleep.”
“I don’t want to. I want to find her. You let her get away.”
Rodrigo didn’t bother to inform Nick that he was the fool who had lost a fight against the girl. He simply held the syringe up. “Would you prefer if I kissed it better?”
“Fuck you.”
They stared at each other.
“Do it,” Nick muttered. His voice sounded funny due to the damage to his face and Rodrigo almost wanted to smirk.
He injected Nick three times. The boy began lolling his head after the third shot and Rodrigo called for La Bola. Together, they carried Nick to his bedroom.
Rodrigo had a tremendous headache. He was exhausted. He poured himself a glass of whiskey, dragged himself to his bed, and fell asleep almost instantly.
When he woke up it was near dark. Rodrigo walked to the kitchen to check on their blood supplies. They were down to three bags. It wasn’t going to be enough, not with Nick in this state. He grabbed the phone and dialed a contact of his.
Certain Dark Things Page 21