“I liked you since I first saw you in the subway,” he whispered. “I’d have done anything to meet you. Never thought you’d speak to me.”
She tilted her head. She’d liked him too, the moment she’d seen him sitting in the subway car, wrapped in his yellow jacket. She liked how he looked terribly unsure of himself. She liked the way his hair fell over his face and she liked his smile, which seemed so honest. And he was beautiful, didn’t even know it. It was charming.
“Atl—”
She silenced him with a kiss, weary that he was going to say something dumb, and pushed him down on the bed, pressing her lips against his neck, not for a kiss, but to feed. When she raised her head she did kiss him on the mouth, the sweet taste of copper on her lips. He let his breath out in one long, shaky exhalation.
CHAPTER
33
A look at the computer’s database had shown Ana that Archibaldo had stayed out of trouble for the past year. When she phoned his number on file, she got his ex-girlfriend, who, upon learning a cop was looking for him, gladly told Ana that Archibaldo had opened a tea shop on Darwin Street, at the edge of ritzy Polanco. It was his newest front.
The tea shop was called Safari and the outside was painted a deep purple. The inside was pretentious, with a zebra skin—no doubt synthetic—hanging from a wall. Long, glistening metal tables stretched from one side of the joint to the other. The attendant told her there were “private” drinking cubicles in the back and asked if she was interested in renting one.
“Yes,” she said. “And please tell Archibaldo that Ana Aguirre is here to see him. I’ll be in the back.”
The girl looked at her skeptically. “The owner is not around.”
Ana sighed, taking out her badge and showing it to the girl. “Tell him and give me a cubicle.”
The girl quickly handed her a plastic chip with a peacock painted on it. Ana went to the back and found a bunch of doors set along a narrow hallway, each one with a different animal on it: lion, panda, monkey. The peacock was at the far end of the hallway.
The room had a divan and an assortment of blue and green cushions on the floor. The head of a peacock had been mounted on a wall. Archibaldo had wallpapered the room with peacocks, as though the theme were not clear enough to even the most clueless spectator.
“Ana Aguirre! You beautiful woman, you,” Archibaldo said cheerily as he walked into the room. “You look younger than ever.”
“I don’t feel young,” Ana said, giving him a dismissive look. Archibaldo was a diminutive fellow, balding, and sporting the same mustache—mug shots testified to this—he’d worn since the ’70s. He had no charm, though he considered himself a smooth Don Juan.
“You should have told me you were coming over. What kind of tea do you want to drink?”
“How many girls do you have working here?” she asked, extending a hand and touching the peacock’s beak. It felt real.
“What?”
“We both know you’re fronting.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Come on, Archibaldo. Do I have to remind you what happened last time you tried this?”
The little man took out a handkerchief and wiped his forehead with it, his eyes darting around the room. “You need money?” he asked. “I have—”
“You’re in luck. Today it’s just information.”
“What kind?”
“Last time I saw you, you told me stories about vampires. I’m interested in hearing the one about the vampire in La Roma. Where does he live?”
“Wait,” Archibaldo said. “I only told you because you like to hear about those things. It was just talking, passing the time, you know?”
“You said there was a vampire left in La Roma.”
“Are you sure you don’t want tea? I can tell the girl to bring tea.”
“Sit down.”
Archibaldo obeyed her, sitting at the edge of the divan. Ana leaned against the wall, lit a cigarette, and crossed her arms. “Tell me.”
“I told you there might be a vampire still in the Roma. God knows I haven’t tried to verify it.”
“What’s his name?”
Archibaldo toyed with his handkerchief. “Now that I pause to organize my thoughts, I don’t even remember what I told you. It was long ago and my memory is not so good.”
“Are you going to try that one on me?”
“Ana, please, let’s have tea.”
“You want me to drag you back to headquarters with me?” Ana asked. “Force carbonated mineral water up your nose so you can’t breathe, mix chile pepper into it to better force the water down the nasal passage? Huh? Do we have to do the whole song and dance?”
Ana had never been the kind of person who liked to liven up an interrogation with tehuacanazos and beatings, but she damn well knew others did. And she wasn’t above reminding Archibaldo about the techniques her coworkers liked to indulge in. Between the jerks at work and these fucking vampires going around eating people, she’d had it.
“No,” Archibaldo mumbled. “I’ll tell you.”
He was quiet, as if gathering his courage, and Ana held on to her cigarette.
“I met him in the ’70s. He was a Revenant. His name was Bernardino.”
A Revenant. Well, that wasn’t exactly what she wanted to hear. Vampires who can suck your life with a single touch? No, thanks.
“Go on.”
“He lived in La Roma. A lot of them had left, were leaving, the area by then. Things were getting hairy with the police. He didn’t seem concerned, though. I think he’d been living in his place for a very long time, that he’d been a rich twat since the Porfiriato. You know how vampires can be. Old-fashioned, especially the elderly ones. He was old-fashioned. Didn’t see the benefit in moving.”
“How did you meet him?”
“He wanted people. You know, to feed. I had girls who were willing to do the work.”
“Did you ever see where he lived?”
Archibaldo shook his head. “On Parras. Number 25. A big, old house.”
“What makes you think he is still living in Mexico City? We haven’t had any reports of vampires for years and years.”
“When I met him, I heard he was some big shot. He could still pull a lot of strings. He knew many secrets, from a bunch of people. I don’t think people dared touch him because of that. He had plenty of money. I don’t know, he was the type who could stay and just keep his head down, you know? Make no fuss, keep things going for himself.” Archibaldo licked his lips. “Plus, I know he was still around as late as the ’90s.”
“Did you see him?” Ana asked.
“No, I didn’t see him. I stopped sending him girls over after a couple of mishaps. And the guy scared me, all right? He could read someone’s thoughts, and that was just too damn disturbing for me. Too much.”
“Then?”
“I’ve got to keep an ear to the ground and know what the competition is doing, you know? I was paying off one of his girls to tell me what my biggest competitor back then was up to. If he was importing Russian babes or if he’d been getting girls from Tlaxcala. Whether he was trying to run a massage parlor or—”
“I get the drift. What about the vampire?” she asked.
“The girl I was paying off told me he was their client now. This was in ’98. I don’t see why he wouldn’t still be around.”
No, she didn’t see why he couldn’t be around either. Safe in the Roma. And for some reason the vampire girl was with him.
* * *
Ana stopped at a convenience store and bought a pack of cigarettes, feeling guilty about the purchase. She’d told Marisol she’d quit, again, but that hadn’t lasted. Two blocks from her building, her phone rang. She thought it might be Kika.
“Yes?” she said.
“You hung up on me,” a man said.
Godoy’s people. Perfect. She thought about hanging up again, but spoke instead.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“Go upstairs and we’ll kill your daughter. Head to the alley behind your building, now.”
Ana felt a tightness in her gut. She found it hard to even think properly, much less reply. “Yes.”
She saw them when she reached the mouth of the alley, an older man and a young one. She recognized Nick Godoy from his photo, though half his head was bandaged. He looked more like a monster than a ladies’ man now even if he was wearing sunglasses and a hoodie to try to hide the damage.
“Ana Aguirre,” the older man said. He was leaning against the wall of the alley, arms crossed. “I’ve been wanting to meet you. I’m Rodrigo. This is Nick.”
“What do you want?” she asked.
“Information. You’re investigating the so-called vampire murders.”
“Luna is the lead on that. You should talk to him,” she said, her voice leaden. She gave him nothing. You couldn’t show emotion near these pricks.
“How’d you find the girl?”
“I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“Wrong answer,” Rodrigo said, brushing a hand against the lapel of his suit. “Nick.”
He pounced on her, but Ana had years of dealing with his kind and she pulled out her silver knife just as quickly, slicing at his arm. The kid growled, showing her a multitude of teeth. Ana sliced again, aiming for the chest. She thought the odds were in her favor, but then Rodrigo spoke, slow and measured.
“Drop it or a friend of mine is going to break the door to your apartment down and beat your daughter so badly you’ll need dental records to ID her,” he said.
“You wouldn’t—”
“Didn’t you see the news? The factory? We would. We are past being discreet.”
She believed him. The fear she’d pushed down bubbled up, knitting in her gut. Ana dropped the knife.
“She cut me!” Nick said, sounding outraged, and then, without preamble, he bit her neck.
This is it. Killed by a vampire kid, she thought. However, the bite wasn’t terribly deep and it was the restraint that alarmed her. And then the boy bit into his own wrist and she panicked, trying to punch him. He held her tight, pressing the bloody wrist against her mouth. When the blood hit her, everything seemed to slow down.
The boy stepped away and Ana felt this itch inside her head, inside her brain. Damn it, not this. Years in Zacatecas, dealing with bloodsuckers, and now this.
“Ask her how she found Atl,” Rodrigo said.
“How did you find Atl?” Nick repeated.
Ana spoke, compelled by the alien blood that was now coursing through her body. “A sanitation report. It mentioned a dog that resembled the one she owns.”
“How did you know to also look for Nick?”
“Deep Crimson, an important gang. They came to me, told me they wanted help in finding Atl and Nick. I agreed.”
“Do you know where she is now?”
“Most likely in the Roma. She is with a vampire called Bernardino. He’s a Revenant,” she said, her mouth opening and makings sounds on its own accord.
“We should go there right now,” the young vampire said.
The old man didn’t look so convinced. He shook his head. “A Revenant.”
“Who cares if it’s ten of them?!” the young vampire screeched.
“You don’t just step into a vampire’s lair if you can avoid it. Does Deep Crimson know the current location of the girl?”
She tried to suppress the urge to speak, knowing it was futile and yet attempting to fight him.
“You heard him,” Nick said, taking a step closer to her. She could see herself reflected in his sunglasses.
“No,” Ana said. “I was going to phone Kika after I had a smoke.”
“I think she should phone Deep Crimson and let them know about this new development.”
“Are you crazy?” the vampire said, turning toward the old man, his hands balled into fists. “They’ll grab her before we do!”
“I’m indeed hoping they’ll get in there before we go, kill that Revenant, and injure her, making it all that easier for us to swoop in and take her. You have a lot to learn, boy.”
The vampire chuckled. He took off his sunglasses and stared at her. “Phone your contact and tell them where they can find Atl,” he told her.
Ana’s hands trembled as she grabbed her phone and pressed the right numbers.
CHAPTER
34
Sex always looked pretty damn impressive in the movies. Domingo kind of wondered how the actors managed to make it seem so effortless—pretty, even—when it was terribly chaotic in real life, and he fumbled it when he had the fleeting chance to sleep with a girl. Though he supposed he hadn’t fumbled it too badly this time around. Well, he hoped he hadn’t or that at the very least he wasn’t as clumsy as usual.
Atl lay curled on her side, naked, her back to him. She looked rather spectacular and he realized that he’d probably told her she was pretty far too many times—maybe she figured those were the only words he knew—but he felt like saying it again.
Atl was touching the bandage on her arm. He pressed his face against her nape, wanting to feel her close.
“Are you scared?” Domingo asked. “About tomorrow, I mean.”
“No,” Atl said. “Not more than I’ve been during this whole trip.”
“Where are we going to go after we reach Guatemala?”
“Brazil.”
“I don’t think they speak Spanish there,” he said, suddenly worried.
“You run away with a vampire and the thing that concerns you the most is that you won’t be able to speak the language?”
“I guess.”
She chuckled. “It’ll be fine. It’s one of the benefits of having money. And I’ll have quite a bit of money once I’m abroad and can access all of my accounts.”
Domingo sat up and looked at the tattoo on her back. Now that he had a better chance to examine it, it seemed to him that the hummingbird had a definite, defiant expression that matched Atl’s own proud scowls. He touched the drawing, his fingers resting on the wings. “Can you fly?” he asked.
“Yeah. In a way. It’s more like … I can glide, I suppose. I can beat my wings a bit in the air, though if you were comparing me to a bird I’d be flying more like a turkey than a sparrow. It’s not that impressive.”
“That means you have wings.”
“Yes.”
“Bat wings or bird wings? Not butterfly, right? I saw a picture of a lady that had butterfly wings once, but I think that was a fairy in some children’s book.”
“Bird.”
“How come I haven’t seen your wings?”
“No need for it. It’s kind of private,” she said, sounding shy, which surprised him.
“You’ve seen me naked,” he said.
“That’s different.”
“How come?”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “You ask a lot of questions. You’ve also seen me naked. I’d say that equation is well balanced.”
“I wouldn’t mind seeing your wings.”
“You’re not that cute,” she replied.
Cute. That sounded really good to him, although now that he thought about it, she’d probably been with very handsome gentlemen. Vampires, rather. Vampires that didn’t have awful teeth like him. They probably had really good teeth. If they went to South America, or even farther, would they be hanging out with other vampires? Would Atl be whisked away by a billionaire bloodsucker with a Transylvanian accent?
He traced the head of the hummingbird with his hands and kissed her shoulder blade.
“Do you know why it’s a hummingbird, and not a raven or a swan or something else?” she told him.
“Why?”
“Huitzilopochtli, the Aztec god of war, was called the left-handed hummingbird. His father was a ball of feathers.”
“For real?”
“Yes. His mother swallowed a ball of feathers and he sprang from her womb, fully formed, dressed in his feathered armor
. There was a temple dedicated to him, right here in Mexico City, and my ancestors were warrior-priestesses in that temple. The priestesses were very brave. They fought in great battles. My family was heroic. Not like me.”
Atl undid the bandage to look at her arm. It was still a stump, though the flesh had healed completely and looking at it one might have imagined she hadn’t had a hand for years and years.
“I feel like it’s still there,” she told him. “I try to move my fingers, but I can’t.”
“If it makes you feel any better, that guy who attacked you is probably hurting more than you are. And looks a lot crappier.”
She smiled, though soon enough she was frowning, her face draining of its mirth. “I suppose you don’t really want to see this,” she muttered, clumsily winding the bandage.
“Here, let me,” he said. He recalled how upset she’d been before, angry at needing his help, and he bit his lip thinking she’d protest. But Atl did not seem upset. When he finished bandaging her arm again, she mussed his hair. He turned his head and kissed her.
His previous attempts at kissing had been rather embarrassing, the excitement making him tremble and flounder, but now he did it right.
“You’re getting better,” she said, seemingly agreeing with his assessment.
“Practice makes perfect,” he replied cheekily, swinging his arms over his head and lying back on the bed.
She scoffed. “Really?”
She sat next to him, running her nails along his arm. He thought that one day, when he had the chance, he’d have to find the painting of the girl who looked like Atl, the one he’d seen in a catalogue. Madonna of something. He’d show it to her.
“Are the vampires in Brazil like you?” he asked.
“No, it’s mainly Obayifo there, they came from Africa in the seventeenth century. They glow in the dark.”
“No way. You’re making that up.”
“What’s so strange about that? There’s fish and mushrooms that glow in the dark,” she said.
“Fish and mushrooms are not the same as vampires,” he said.
“I have wings. Isn’t that stranger?” she asked, a hint of mockery on that clever tongue of hers. But also a hint of warmth there too.
Certain Dark Things Page 25
