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Mercedes Varga kept lifting her head as if to look out the window and see if she had arrived yet, but of course she couldn’t see anything through the light-blocking curtains and secondary layer of light-proof shade on the inside. Joe had done something similar to his own windows. It was annoying, but not as annoying as the screaming anguish from daylight that was barely enough to see by.
“She’s okay meeting me here?” Joe asked. Mercedes’ house seemed like neutral territory, but he didn’t know if La Patrona would go for it.
“If you want me here too, that’s your only choice. I don’t go out much anymore. I get so agoraphobic. I go to work, then home. My family comes to visit. They’re still praying over me, but they know this is my life now.” Mercedes had a clock on the wall that ticked loudly as its pendulum swung back and forth. The walls had been painted light blue with a faded floral band of wallpaper near the ceiling.
The house was cozy. Joe heard a sound in the background. It was just Mercedes’ husband clearing his throat, turning the television a little louder. Even that sound made Joe startle.
“You hungry? Julio and I ate an hour ago. I can fix you up a plate.”
“If it’s no trouble,” Joe said, brightening.
He looked around the kitchen as she pulled out a tray from the refrigerator. Along the wall that didn’t have cabinets, a bookshelf sagged, weighed down with cookbooks. The chairs were mismatched leather and vinyl with 1950’s lines, but the table was heavy and wooden, with clawed feet extending from a central post. A black and white cat walked into the room, saw him and walked away with its tail in the air.
She set the plate in front of him, a generous portion of enchilada. It had a green sauce and a filling of spinach and mushrooms, under a soft blanket of yellow and white cheese. She’d spooned some sour cream on top. Joe tucked into it gratefully, smelling the heat and then having his mouth confirm it with delicious pain. “I still can’t get over that you’re feeding me dinner in your kitchen, after I—”
“Hush. That’s over.”
“You’re a good person, Mercedes.”
“We do what we can, Joe. We have to look out for each other.” Mercedes leaned down to pet the cat, then took it onto her lap. “You nervous?”
“Yeah. You might say I haven’t had good experiences with vampires.”
“I work with him.”
“Who?” Joe looked up. He put another bite in his mouth. “El Patron?”
Mercedes nodded. “He knows his stuff. I don’t know if he’s really a hundred years old or whatever, but he knows his job. He seems to care about the patients, anyway. He’s competent.”
“What did you tell him about me?”
“The basics, that you lost your job when you were turned. You get blood from your family. You haven’t made any more vampires. You’ve never killed anyone. He wanted to know that mostly.”
“Kinda weird, the idea that a vampire—” but Joe broke off at a rap at the door. He was torn between wanting to stand to be ready to run and wanting to shovel more food in his mouth. His check didn’t come for another week and a half, and even when he had money, he didn’t eat like this. Not since Becky left him.
Mercedes opened the door and invited the vampire in. Vampires, plural. There were two of them, two women. One of the women he’d seen before, somewhere. She was tall and fierce looking, with fair hair and very dark eyes. She wore men’s work pants and work boots and a survival knife holstered in a belt at her waist. She also wore a gun in a holster at her hip, which he tried not to look at. The other woman had dark bangs and a sunken face like a model, with deep set eyes shadowed in purple. She moved with an unusual grace, reminding Joe of a nightclub singer or some other kind of performer.
“You’re Joe?” The tall woman asked.
“Patrona,” Mercedes said politely. “Bienvenidos.”
Was this El Patron? Joe offered his hand to shake.
She had a very firm grip. “My name is Kaltenbach. And my associate is called the Spider.”
“Joe.” He turned to the other woman. “Why does a pretty woman like you have such a nasty name?”
The Spider smiled and shrugged.
Joe decided these women weren’t so scary that he could hold off finishing Mercedes’ delicious enchilada any longer. The sour cream had already melted into a white smear along the edge of the plate. He sat down and took another bite, then swallowed. “You work for Black Wolf?”
“The other way around.”
“You should—" Joe wanted to warn them, but he couldn’t. It was like a goddamn magic spell or something. That fucker said, “don’t tell anyone who did this,” and Joe couldn’t say. He’d tried to tell Mercedes about a hundred times, but the words just wouldn’t come out.
“You were a vampire hunter, and now here you are, one of us,” Kaltenbach said.
“What do you want?” Joe asks. “For me to say I’m sorry? Okay, I’m sorry. I thought it was the right thing. And now here’s my punishment. I’m one of the bad guys. I admit I was wrong. Is that what you want?”
“We want peace,” Kaltenbach said. “But first, victory.”
“What’s your price?”
“To join our Guild? Don’t kill for blood. Obey El Patron. Don’t make more vampires without his consent. Tithe.”
“Tithe. Yeah, that’s gonna be a problem. I lost my job.”
“I understand,” she said. “We will take that into account. Tell me who your sire is.”
“Raoul,” he said, the lie coming easily to his lips. That’s what he told anyone who asked him flat out.
“That is a lie,” she said. “Who is your sire?”
Joe opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He shrugged again.
“We have some questions for you,” the Spider said, and Joe turned at her voice. She had an accent, sultry and dark. Russian? There was something really alluring about her. She leaned in and stroked a fingertip along the edge of his jaw. “Where do you get your blood?”
“My family,” Joe said. He swallowed. The Spider had sat down in the chair next to him and leaned forward so he got a good look at her beautiful dark eyes. “I got a lot of cousins.”
“Have you killed anyone?” Her words seemed to slip into his mind.
“No. Tried to kill Raoul, but someone beat me to it. That girl, the vampire hunter. Kat? Kati? Weird name, with the jewel. She said she did it with a stake, but stakes don’t work so she must have been lying.” Joe was vaguely aware that he was holding a knife and a fork, but he’d forgotten the enchilada in favor of looking into those dark eyes. “I think he’s dead. I haven’t seen him.”
“How many other vampires are there in town?” She frowned as if she’d made a mistake.
Joe was able to pull away from her gaze just long enough to glance at Kaltenbach, who had been holding perfectly still, and Mercedes, who had her arms folded but hadn’t left the room.
Kaltenbach shook her head. “Too broad,” she said.
“I know what I’m doing,” the Spider said, with a touch of asperity. She took Joe’s chin in her fingers and tipped his face towards hers again. “Do you know of any vampires in this town who are younger than you?”
“Stephanie,” he said, and he sure did like looking into the Spider’s dark eyes. They were like deep pools full of bourbon and dreams. “My second cousin’s neighbor. She went to live up with Black Wolf in that house in the valley and she hasn’t been seen since. Maybe she’s dead, but I think he turned her.”
“Who turned her?”
“Maybe Black Wolf.”
“Did Black Wolf turn you?” she asked, sultry and cloying. She made his mind feel like molasses and cream all stirred up. “You want to tell me. You want to be honest with me. You are loyal to us now.”
“I—” And there was that damn block again. Black Wolf ordered him not to say anything. His orders meant nothing at all, and yet Joe felt himself stutter against the answer. “I can’t ... I can’t.”
“He’s close to telling me,” the Spider said. “I can feel the resistance.”
“That’s enough of an answer for me,” Kaltenbach said.
The Spider turned away and Joe felt as if something he’d been leaning on was suddenly removed. He looked down in the sauce, where he had written “yes” with his knife.
“He did the same to me, the little shit,” Mercedes said. “Not about this, but other things. He’d order me to come along on their little hunting parties and I’d say no, but I’d just go.”
“No wonder he’s been turning so many,” Kaltenbach said. “He learned of the obedience we hold for our sire.”
“And you let him join your little club,” Mercedes said, shaking her head.
“Our. Our Guild. It was not my choice, but El Patron says he has need of him.” Kaltenbach had her arms folded as if to keep her hands away from her knife.
“Keep him away from me and Joe,” Mercedes said. “We’re not showing up as long as he’s around. Who knows what he’ll ask us to do?”
“Who?” Joe said. He had that familiar muddled feeling he got when he tried to countermand one of Black Wolf’s orders. “Who is this guy you’re talking about?”
“Your sire,” Kaltenbach said. “He ordered you not to tell anyone, and you were compelled to obey him. My associate here has special abilities. She was able to find the truth.”
“He’s patient zero,” Mercedes said. “He blamed Raoul, but Raoul didn’t turn me. Didn’t turn Brian, didn’t turn Joe, or that little turd who snapped and attacked those people. Now we’re bloodsuckers when life is hard enough here for normal people.”
“It gets easier,” Kaltenbach said. “The first two years are the hardest.”
“It’s a nightmare,” Joe said. “I lost my job. I can’t show up unless it’s dark out. I’m on unemployment, but that won’t last forever.”
“It’s like having a baby,” the Spider said. “If it’s a blessing or a tragedy depends on if you have time and money.”
Mercedes turned and left the room.
“She and Julio wanted a baby,” Joe said quietly. “She can’t have one now.”
“We can’t always get what we want,” Kaltenbach said quietly.
“Just like the song says,” Joe agreed. “Don’t make it easy.”