“Of course, then just a few years later we had these European vampires inching into our territory. Motherfuckers in snakeskin boots and stupid cowboy hats. Guys like Godoy. Fucking Necros.”
Necros. Big fangs. Pale and skinny. Hair on their palms. They sounded cool, since—if you believed TV and shit—they also tended to have fancy clothes and some type of sports car, which was kind of awesome.
“They’re supposed to be hot, no?”
“They’re also filthy,” Atl said. “They’ll make you sick if you come in contact with their blood. If they fuck you, same deal, meet the worst STD ever. You get a literal mind fuck.”
“Like, gonorrhea or what?”
“No. They make you do anything they want. Eventually you die, but not until you’ve done the bidding of a pasty asshole for a good long while. It doesn’t work on other vampires, but humans should really stay the hell away from them.”
“Oh,” Domingo said. That didn’t sound so cool. “Well, at least you can’t get it. Though what happens if you eat someone who was infected by a Necros?”
“I would reject the blood. It’s a very simple rule of thumb: tainted blood, vomit. It’s like trying to chug down expired milk.”
“Gross.”
They were now right behind the old Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe, where unauthorized street vendors gathered to offer candles, images of the Virgin, and miracles—pieces of tin in the shape of an arm, heart, or foot that were supposed to heal the sick. In December the place was simply impossible to navigate, hundreds of Catholics swarming it to pay their respects to the Virgin. That evening it was not so busy and the vendors would be packing up soon.
“There was some writing on the Net,” Domingo said, “something about disease among vampires. It means you get sick, don’t you? Sick from stuff other than dirty blood, no?”
“Human diseases can’t kill us, but then the Necros aren’t human. In the times of the Aztecs, when the first Necros arrived upon our shores, they quickly spread disease among the local vampire populations. Many members of my family died simply due to coming in contact with the Necros, greatly reducing our capacity to fight against the invaders. Germs can be much more effective than swords. And then there is the issue of tainted human blood and the illnesses the European humans carried. What could we eat if the humans were sick and dying too?”
He kicked the can in her direction and she kicked it back.
“The Necros probably ate too many rats in the Middle Ages and that’s why they’re so filthy,” Atl said. “We were warriors.”
“What kind of warriors?”
“We guarded Huitzilopochtli’s temple. It was more of a warrior-priestess kind of deal,” Atl said.
“Ain’t that, like … Aztec?”
“Yes, Aztec,” Atl said, laughing. She spread her arms. “Mexico City used to be a city of canals. People would go down in canoes instead of streets and there were great temples downtown. And that’s where my people used to live.”
“That’s cool. Being a warrior. Must be cool.”
Domingo kicked the can too hard. It rattled, spinning away from them and under a vendor’s table. Atl stared at it.
“Must be,” Atl muttered.
She was standing in front of a stand selling T-shirts with the image of the Virgin on them, and the irony wasn’t lost on him that this was a vampire, right by the basilica, right by a bunch of rosaries and crucifixes and cheap plastic saints. She looked kind of sad, and he had no idea if it was because of the talk of her kind or maybe because vampires don’t deal well with Catholicism, but he wanted to make it right.
“Do you want to see my place?” Domingo asked, and he knew it sounded dumb, but he wasn’t smooth like Quinto and other guys. He never knew the right words or the right stuff.
Atl didn’t answer. She was still staring at the can.
“It’s real close. That’s the only reason I’m saying. ’Cause it’s nearby.”
A few stops on the subway and they’d be there, it was really nothing at all. Atl finally raised her head to look at him.
“A quick stop,” she said.
*
Domingo guided her into the tunnel, carefully illuminating the way with his flashlight. It was an easy walk, but you had to watch the bends of the narrow tunnel and sometimes the ceilings dipped and if you didn’t hunch down a bit you’d end with a big bump on the forehead. During his first weeks underground, that’s exactly what had happened. Now he had mapped the tunnels and he could walk them in complete darkness. Still, it never hurt to flash a bit of light in there, especially with the rats around. And, who knew, maybe a hobo could have snuck in. Domingo was pretty sure no one else knew about these tunnels, but he had learned to be careful.
“What is this place?” Atl asked, and he could tell she was a bit in awe. He congratulated himself on deciding to change the scenery.
“There are a few tunnels around downtown. Someone told me they were used by priests and nuns or guerrilla fighters, I’m not sure.”
“When?”