“Atl!”
She spun around and realized that Domingo had managed to open one of the dock doors, pulling the steel curtain up. Atl ran past Domingo, who was just standing, staring at the mangled bodies strewn over the floor. She yanked him behind her and they stumbled out into the street, rain pelting them as they rushed down an alley, the dog chasing after them.
“No, no, no,” Domingo said when she turned right. “Over here.”
She followed him as they ran through a web of alleys, reaching a mesh wire fence. Behind it was a large vacant lot strewn high with garbage.
“Here,” Domingo said, lifting a corner of the fence. “I know where this leads.”
“I can’t walk anymore,” she said. Hell, she could hardly breathe. Every mouthful of air burned her lungs.
“You can. You are. Come on,” he said, and his voice was hard, not the way he normally spoke, unsure and half-afraid. He knew what he was doing.
She wanted to lie down but he was insistent, pulling her with him. She thought they’d never reach the street. Rain sluiced down her back. Empty milk containers, glass, plastic, crunched beneath her feet, singing a discordant melody. Domingo’s sweaty hands remained steady against her own, forcing her to follow him.
Kill him. The thought made her blink and stumble, the rain sliding under her jacket, under her clothes, chilling her.
It was a good idea. She was hurt. She was hungry. She needed the strength. The blood.
She looked at him, at his face, which showed no fear. Only concern. She thought about slicing his neck open with her sharp nails.
“It’s okay,” he whispered, touching her cheek. “Stay close to me.”
She shivered and found that she was able to keep following him, though there was also that nagging thought, the desire for blood pooling in her belly until she finally gave up, decided to hell with it, with him. She gripped his arm and pulled him close to her and …
… and realized they were there, in a street, the glare of the streetlamps shining down on them.
She chuckled, her hand slipping down, away from him.
There was a taxi stand with a withered, lone driver reading a magazine, waiting for a fare. Atl leaned down next to his window and squeezed the man’s neck with one hand. The man dropped his magazine and opened his mouth. She did not give him a chance to speak.
“You’re going to drive us wherever we say or I’ll break your neck,” she told him.
The taxi driver blurted a weak yes. Atl opened the back door and Domingo and the dog jumped in. She followed them, resting a hand right by the driver’s shoulder, to make sure he didn’t get any funny ideas.
“Take us to the Roma,” Atl said.
“Wait, are you going to see Bernardino? You said not to go to him,” Domingo said.
“I’m not okay. I need help and a place to hide. There’s no safer place than Bernardino’s house.”
“How do you know?”
“If he’s survived this long in this city, then he’s not a delicate flower.”
“Why didn’t you let me take you to him in the first place?”
Atl turned toward Domingo and she had no time to explain about the ways vampires didn’t get along with other clans, about their territorial impulses and the fact that Bernardino was either an ace up her sleeve or the worst hand she’d been dealt yet.
“He’s dangerous. But everything is dangerous now. Everything,” she said instead.
She flexed her injured hand, looking at the bite marks on it.
*
Atl leaned against the wall as Domingo knocked. The heavy door opened, revealing an old woman. She did not seem too pleased to see them, though she stepped aside and let them in without a word. Domingo helped her up the stairs, and it was a minor miracle that Atl did not take a tumble, considering that her legs had the consistency of jelly.
“Bernardino!” Domingo yelled.
“You’ve come back.”
The hallway was very dark, but Atl saw a silhouette at the far end of it, a silhouette that quickly acquired a recognizable outline. The vampire, hunched down with age, leaning on a cane, gazed at her, his face devoid of any emotion.
“I’m curious to know what you think you are doing here,” the vampire said.
“We were attacked,” Domingo said. “There was a big fight.”
“I can see that. I still don’t understand what could have compelled you to visit me.”
“I’ll owe you a great debt if you offer us sanctuary,” Atl said.
“I’d rather not.”
“My mother—”
“Is dead,” Bernardino replied dryly. “You better leave.”
Atl squeezed her eyes shut. She might weep, otherwise. She thrust a hand forward, clutching Bernardino’s arm.
“Please, don’t make me beg.”
Bernardino was hunched down, his spine crushed by the weight of time, but he still managed to be substantially taller than Atl. He looked down at her, the way one might examine a spider before crushing it.
“She told me about you,” Atl mumbled. “She said you were her friend.”
“Isn’t that the same lie you told Elisa?” Bernardino asked.