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.
“I need more of the last delivery,” he said.
There was an uncomfortable pause. “You watched the news yet?”
“No.”
“Turn the TV on.”
Rodrigo grabbed the remote and flicked through the channels, stopping at a news station. They were showing footage of the outside of the factory where they’d been. The TV was on mute, but the words VAMPIRE ATTACK were superimposed upon the bottom of the screen.
“What does that matter?” Rodrigo asked.
“It’s gnarly, bro. The cops are looking for you.”
“What else is new?”
“Deep Crimson’s also looking for you. I don’t want no problems.”
“Price is not an issue.”
“Sorry, bro.”
His contact hung up. Damn it. Procuring blood would become a lot more difficult now. Nick was going to wake up with an appetite and all he had were three measly bags of blood. Of course, he only had three bags because the damn kid went through them like they were candy.
Shit.
He wanted to get into his car and drive away. Drive until he reached a solitary beach down the Pacific coast. Trade his suits for T-shirts and shorts. Rent a house. Adopt the anonymous, boring life of a retired old man.
He couldn’t.
Rodrigo took a deep breath.
He was used to solving problems. All that was required was a little creative thinking.
* * *
The woman called herself Dulce. He found her next to a bike repair shop, wearing a plastic, transparent poncho that allowed customers to see her underwear. She looked like she was in her midtwenties. Bubbly, though not pretty. She might have been attractive once, but time and drug use had left her with a weary, hardened look. Dulce told Rodrigo she really liked his car and suggested they go to a nearby motel—or they could do it right there in the car. He said he wanted her to go back to his place. She balked at that, but then he offered her a bit more money and told her he was doing this as a surprise birthday present for his friend, who was feeling a bit down. Her accent was northern and he added he was originally from Monterrey.
That seemed to calm her down. On the ride back, she expressed her love of cumbias and Rodrigo replied at the appropriate intervals. Once inside the apartment, he quickly guided her to Nick’s room. Nick was sprawled over the bed, his face buried in the pillows, and Dulce stood by the door, smiling.
“Let me wake him up,” Rodrigo told her. “Boy, is he going to be surprised.”
Rodrigo crouched next to the side of the bed and whispered. “I have a girl for you,” he told him.
Nick turned his head and stared at Rodrigo. His eyes were bloodshot.
“Come here,” Rodrigo told Dulce, motioning to her. “Come here and meet my friend.”
Dulce stepped forward, moving to Rodrigo’s side. Her pleasant, sweet smile faded as soon as she caught sight of Nick. She took a step back. Nick caught her. He was fast and she was unable to scream. All Rodrigo heard was a whimper.
He left the room, not bothering to watch as Nick fed. He went to his studio and put on Silvio Rodríguez, listening to the soothing melodies. He ran his fingers over his books, pausing over a particularly pleasing first edition. He allowed his eyes to wander to the photo of him sitting in a convertible. Young. Optimistic. Foolish.
He sat behind his desk and poured himself another whiskey but didn’t drink it, instead holding the glass between his hands.
Three or four songs later there came the footsteps. The door opened and Nick walked in, his face smeared in crimson; his clothes drenched in blood. He smelled of carrion. That deep, uncomfortable stench that Rodrigo had gotten used to, working for a vampire for so long.
“Her blood was thin,” Nick complained. “Give me a drink.”
Nick snatched the glass of whiskey from Rodrigo’s hands and downed it.
Of course. No gratitude from this younger generation, these children with their mouths like sharks and their vicious appetites. None whatsoever.
“I want Atl. I want Atl’s blood and Atl’s flesh. I want her alive for a hundred days and a hundred nights, skinned and bleeding.”
“Someone else has the same idea,” Rodrigo said.
“What do you mean?”
“The Jackal said she was suffering from silver nitrate poisoning and that one of his guys pulled several darts out of her arms. How do you think she got those? Not from us.”
“Cops,” Nick said, rubbing the back of his hand against his mouth.
“Not exactly standard equipment.”
“Then who? Does it matter?”
“There’s a detective who might know. Ana Aguirre.”
He’d been thinking about Aguirre as the boy fed. From what his contact had told him and from Rodrigo’s own quiet inquiries, Ana Aguirre hailed from Zacatecas, where she’d developed a reputation as a vampire killer, and one who seemed to know what she was doing. While most cops thought the best way to deal with vampires was to spray them with as much lead as possible—and that did help, but wasted ammunition and manpower—Rodrigo looked at her file and saw cases of vampires who had bitten the dust thanks to anaphylactic shock, electrical shock, UV burns, and the like. It was possible, he thought, that Ana Aguirre had found Atl before Rodrigo and Nick did. It was also possible she had knowledge that would prove useful. Nothing like a vampire hunter to help them hunt a vampire.
“You said it wasn’t the cops.”
“I know what I said. Do you still feel hungry? I’m thinking you could use a snack.”
Nick smiled, a ghastly, painted smile. A child’s grin set upon a horrid mask. He handed Rodrigo the empty glass.
“I’m always up for takeout.”