And that’s when he saw them, under the shadow of a dead tree: three bodies. Two teenage boys. Someone had inflicted tiny cuts on their faces and bodies, then cut off their heads, and the severed heads stared at him, their eyes bulging out. The third was a pregnant woman. A shot had blown off half her head and she’d been decapitated. Her belly was a bloody mess.
He knew, in a corner of his heart, that this was a true memory and no nightmare. It was Atl’s memory.
Domingo opened his eyes and lifted his hand, glancing down at Atl. She was breathing slowly, eyes closed, and her face now was that of a normal young woman. Just a girl, asleep, but for the first time he felt apprehension, the trickle of fear upon his shoulders.
And then he heard it. Footsteps. Several people.
He whirled around to find himself face-to-face with Quinto. He wasn’t alone. The Jackal and two of his buddies were with him.
“Hey, asshole,” the Jackal said. “I came to meet your new girlfriend.”
“Fuck,” Domingo whispered.
CHAPTER
23
Atl waited for Izel to scream. She waited for her to wail. She waited for anything except the calm, restrained look on her sister’s face, as though someone had dragged an eraser across a blackboard, cleaning the slate.
“Aren’t we doing something?” Atl asked.
“I am making arrangements for the funeral,” her sister said.
“I’m not talking about the funeral. I mean something.”
Izel was standing beside the large axolotl tank, observing the white and black salamanders as they swam up and down.
“You know, people tend to focus on the neoteny of the axolotl. It reaches sexual maturity without ever undergoing metamorphosis. But its more interesting aspect, the reason why we’ve always kept a few as pets, is their healing ability. They are capable of regenerating whole limbs, even vital parts of their brains. We are able to do that too, of course. In that sense we are like cousins.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Atl said.
“We will grow anew. We have been damaged, but we will heal.”
Atl circled the axolotl tank. “Yeah, and that’s fine, but what are we doing about them? What are we doing with Godoy? What are we doing with the assholes—”
“We do nothing,” Izel said.
Atl did not speak, could not find the words, any words, for the span of a good couple of minutes. “Mother has been murdered. They delivered her head to us,” Atl said.
“I know. The elders spoke yesterday, I am the cihuātlahtoāni now. And I say there shall be no retaliation.”
“No retaliation?” Atl repeated. “They sent us her damn head!”
They hadn’t even bothered returning the remains of their two cousins who had been with their mother. Rumor had it they’d fed the corpses to their dogs.
They did write a note to go with the head: GODOY CONTROLS THIS TOWN, BITCHES.
Izel’s nails were pressed against the glass; she tapped them once, twice, thrice and raised her head to look at her sister. Her eyes were two pieces of onyx. “They’ll send us more heads if we attack them. Our cousins, our aunts—”
“Our cousins, our aunts, they want revenge.”
“Revenge is too costly.”
Atl scoffed and stared at her sister. She acted so strong, so sure of herself, and now here she was, unable to make what should have been a simple decision.
“You think if we stay here, with our arms crossed, they’ll magically leave us alone? They took out Wu last year and they’ve kicked out two of the Nachzehrer clans. If we don’t make a stand now we’ll be next.”
“I think I can probably negotiate a solution,” Izel said.
“You’d speak to them? You’d barter with the men who killed our mother?” Atl asked, aghast. “They broke the rules.”
Atl inched closer to her sister. The rage she felt could have filled the stupid tank, the whole damn room, while Izel looked indifferent, as if their mother were on vacation and everything was fine.
“We are in a vulnerable position. My resources are limited.”
“To hell with your resources. What about the family?” Atl asked. “Our hearts want nothing but a war death.”
It was a line from a Nahuatl poem they had both learned as children. But Izel, rather than looking uplifted by the words, seemed disgusted.
“You don’t give one shit about this family,” Izel said. “You never have.”
“And you’re probably glad Mother’s dead so you can boss us around like you’ve always wanted,” Atl said, her voice rising, shrill and strange, like she’d never heard it before. She was at the edge of panic.
Izel slapped her hard, her ring cutting Atl’s mouth. Atl tasted her own blood and glared at her sister. Izel turned back to the axolotl tank, while Atl grabbed her jacket and barged right out of the room, hurrying downstairs.
Three days later, Atl killed two of Godoy’s nephews and his favorite concubine. It was easy. They had a couple of bodyguards with them in the apartment, but the guards were human and there were old codes against slaying enemies’ wives or concubines. They were not expecting Atl, safe in their expensive nest. Godoy had violated those same codes when he killed Atl’s mother on neutral ground, but apparently he feared no retaliation.
She pounced on the guards from above, dispatched them in a minute, and then dosed the vampires with UV light. They shrieked and shrieked, but she bound them tight and injected them with allicin. They quieted down after that, and she continued cutting them with ease. She chopped off the boys’ heads. It was messy work, although the boys were small—just teenagers—and that helped. The concubine was considerably older and pregnant. Atl stabbed her in the womb twelve times. The woman pleaded for mercy, but Atl grabbed one of the guns that the guards had been carrying and blew off most of the vampire’s head.
She convulsed for a long time before dying. Atl watched the whole performance, impassive. She’d never killed a vampire before and had only harmed a couple of humans one other time, at a club. But it felt natural and she knew she’d behaved the way she was supposed to. She felt as though she’d regained what she’d lost. Dishonor. Honor.
She told Izel what she’d done right away.
“They’ll come for us,” her sister said. “They’ll come for both of us. How could you?”
“The family wanted it. Mazatl and Nahui and the others, they told me so,” Atl said.
It was true. She hadn’t lied when she said her cousins and aunts desired revenge. They had expressed deep reservations toward Izel. Cousin Nahui had even told Atl, point-blank, that leading required certain skills and Izel might not have them. Mazatl had brought up their parentage, reminding everyone that Izel and Atl were the offspring of a weak man who had let the family down.
Atl ought to have spoken in her sister’s favor, assuaging any fears, but instead the cries stoked her anger. Someone, they said, had to take decisive action for this terrible crime, which had not only left them in shame, but marked them as vulnerable and incapable of controlling their territory as well.
Your name is Atl, her cousin Nahui had told her. Why are you not the ātl tlachinolli, the water that scorches the earth? Instead you behave like a gentle stream that laps the ankles, licking Izel’s feet.
If Atl didn’t push back the family was going to fall apart at the seams: the cihuātlahtoāni could be repudiated. Atl was not going to be branded with such a seal, her lineage shamed and shamed again.
“Let them come,” Atl told her sister.
They did. They rammed their trucks through the doors of their home and walked through the property with flamethrowers in hand. She watched from her window, saw the tongues of fire sweep across the patio and heard the shrieks of her cousins, her people.
“Hide,” her sister ordered. “Hide, Atl! Hide!”
And then, when she ought to have grabbed a knife or a rifle or anything she damn could, when she ought to have been the warrior her bloodline dictated,
she ran. She rushed down the back stairs, toward the kitchen, opened the lid of one of the flat-top refrigerators where they stored food supplies for their human servants, and slid in, closing the door behind her.
The sounds were muffled by the metal and plastic walls of the refrigerator, like when one swims underwater.
Small spaces.
Atl lay there, waiting. When she finally dared to push the lid open she chuckled, thinking that if anyone was watching her it would be a great parody of a vampire film. Instead of pushing open the door of a coffin, she was pushing the lid of a refrigerator.
But no one was there to watch her.
The house was quiet. She walked slowly through the hallways, stepping over broken glass, coming upon mutilated corpses. Several had been partially burned. She recognized Izel by the bracelet on her arm. The rest was a black lump with a vaguely human shape, mouth open in an eternal scream.
Atl slid down against a wall, resting her hands upon her knees. While she lay there, Cualli came bounding out of the house. She thought she was imagining it, but no. It was her dog. She hugged it, burying her face against the Doberman’s neck.
She stepped out of the compound into the cool desert night, Cualli at her heels. She walked around and stumbled over a tortoise. She looked down at it. The sight greatly amused her and she thought Izel would have known what species this was.
She watched it walk away from her, slowly tracing its steps across the desert, though the desert was strange that night. The sand was red beneath her feet, and the moon had disappeared. She coughed, and this black, disgusting substance oozed from her mouth and she knelt upon the sand, a river of black bile and blood streaming out, and she tried to stop it but it would not stop. It. Just. Did not. Stop.
Someone touched her shoulder and she stood up, opening her eyes …
… and she was no longer in the desert. She was crouching on the floor.
Atl tried to slow down her breathing.
Gray cement walls and there was a metal door … no, a mesh wall with a door. Across from her she saw a dog. Not Cualli, but a mutt. She was in a cell, just like the dog across from her was in a cell.
“You’re awake. Jesus, I’m so glad you’re awake.”
Atl blinked and turned her head. It was Domingo touching her shoulder, Domingo crouching next to her. He smiled.
“I’m … yeah … where am I?” she asked. “I was hurt.”
“My friend, Quinto, he patched you up.”
Atl glanced at her arm and saw the bandage. She remembered the darts. If she was awake it meant they’d taken them out, though much of the damage had already been done. She’d had a noxious substance pumping through her system and her body was still struggling to come to grips with it.
“But then … ah … we are in the Jackal’s place. It’s the kennels where he keeps his dogs.”
“Why?”
“He thinks he can make money off you.”
Atl looked around, at the small space they were sitting in. They’d dragged a mattress in, stained and lumpy. Atl’s balled-up jacket lay on it. Also a blanket.
“He’s not great on hospitality, is he?” Atl muttered, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and sitting on the mattress. She flexed her fingers with some effort. She felt slow, tired; pain radiated from every muscle in her body. “How’s he making money off me?”
“He says people are looking for a vampire. After that fight in the street … they, um … I guess there’s a price for your head.”
“Gee, a price,” Atl chuckled. “I’m becoming very popular.”
Domingo did not seem amused by her comment. He licked his lips and stared at her.
“Where’s my dog?” Atl asked.
“I heard it barking a while back. It’s nearby, but I can’t see it from this cage,” Domingo said.
“They better not have hurt him. I’ll cut their balls if they have.”
“I imagine the Jackal wants to keep your dog for the fights. I think it’s safe.”
“So are we. If he thinks we are worth something alive.” She touched the bandage on her shoulder, slipping it off and glancing at the wound. The arm was stained black from the silver nitrate, with wild streaks radiating from the place where the dart had pierced the flesh. When she touched the skin, it hurt, and she winced. She slipped the bandage back in its place.
“Damn it, they had to go with silver nitrate,” she said. “We need to get out of here. I can kick that door down and we can make a run for it,” she said.
“That’s probably not a good idea.”
“Do you have a better one?”
“No. I don’t think you’re supposed to move a lot.”
“Bullshit.” She stood up and took a step forward. One step was all it took and she felt the bile gathering in her throat and started coughing again. She almost lost her balance and fell down, but Domingo hurried to her side, steadying her.
Atl croaked and black bile spilled down her shirt. He helped her back to the mattress and they sat down side by side.
She was filthy. She smelled of blood and vomit. She could barely keep her eyes open. She began to cough again.
Domingo took out a rag from his pocket and handed it to her. Atl pressed the rag against her mouth and frowned. Finally, the coughing subsided.
“Yeah, I get your point,” Atl whispered, tossing the rag on the floor. The coughing fit had robbed her of her energy and she let herself sink against the mattress.
Her only weapon was her switchblade knife, and she wasn’t sure if she still had that. It should be in her jacket, but maybe they’d looked for weapons. Or maybe they hadn’t cared, with her so weak.
She had, perhaps, a knife. She had Domingo, too. Though he might be willing to protect her, she doubted he could smash the door down, carry her in his arms outside, and evade the people keeping them in the kennels.
“Are you hungry?” Domingo asked. “Do you need to—?”
Food. She did not want to think about that. The pain was so bright right now that she could not even consider eating. The pain erased any other concern. But once the pain died down, once her body began to heal in earnest, the hunger would arrive in full force. She was not sure what she’d do at that point. She remembered the old man she’d killed in Guadalajara. She wasn’t even able to keep his blood down, and yet she’d killed him because she’d been in too much of a frenzy to care, or notice, what she was doing. If that happened again, she didn’t know if she could keep herself from harming Domingo. Or if she would even want to.
If it came to it. She didn’t want to die.
He can be replaced, she told herself.
But she wouldn’t think about that now. Later. I’ll consider it, later.
“I need to feed, yes. But right now, I’d probably barf it out again,” she said.
“What do we do, then?” he asked.
What do we do. She was a girl. A girl who had played at murder and only succeeded in getting her sister killed in the process. A girl who could not be relied on to provide good counsel. A girl who ran off into the night, left her family behind to fend for itself, launched herself into a wild escape. A girl who was sick and tired. A girl who couldn’t pretend she was a tough cookie who could get through this intact.
She looked at him and he seemed really interested in her answer, with that open, eager look on his face he seemed to get quite often. Domingo was such a boy. She might be a girl, but she’d never been what he was. She’d never be that.
“We wait,” she told him.
“All right,” he said. “It’ll be all right, you know? I got a hunch about it.”
A sweet boy with a goofy smile and hair in his face and such faith in Atl, or the universe, or something. She wondered how he managed to keep believing in anything.
“Yeah,” she said, and her mouth had an acidic, unpleasant taste to it. “It’ll be all right.”
I’ll kill him. Later. If necessary, she thought. But no. She didn’t want him dead. She looked away from
him. Dear God, don’t be stupid.
CHAPTER
24
The dogs barked, announcing the arrival of people. Domingo stood up and approached the door, nervous. Atl had heard the noise too and she was sitting up, reaching for her jacket.
Quinto appeared and gave him a sheepish smile. He was carrying a backpack, which he set down on the floor. “Hey, Domingo,” he said, lifting his right hand in greeting.
“Hey?” Domingo asked, pressing his hands against the mesh door. “You lock me in this cage and you ‘hey’ me?”
“Look, dude, I didn’t have a choice. The Jackal was mighty curious about you after you went to find me at the party. He phoned me and I had to tell him.”
“Awesome.”
“Your girlfriend is still alive, ain’t she?” Quinto said. “Besides, you told me you were going to kill me with your damn dog. Fair is fair.”
Domingo curled his fingers around the mesh, staring at Quinto. Quinto bent down to unzip the backpack and rummaged in it; he found clean bandages, opened the little panel they used to feed the dogs, and handed them to Domingo.
“You need to change her dressing.”
Domingo scowled, but went to Atl’s side and began bandaging the wounds anew. The old dressings were completely soiled and useless, so he tossed them aside. When Domingo was done Quinto spoke again.
“You thirsty?” Quinto asked, holding up a flask. “I also have a sandwich for you, Domingo.”
“What if you poisoned them?” Domingo asked.
“Don’t be an idiot.”
Domingo grabbed the flask and the sandwich, and went back to Atl. Her hands were not steady enough to hold the flask, so he had to press it against her lips. When she was done drinking, he drank and took small bites from the sandwich.
“Who is the Jackal trading with?” Atl asked. She sat with her back against the wall and did not look at Quinto.
Certain Dark Things Page 18
