“You’re her Renfield or what?” he asked the boy.
The boy did not answer, but the way his eyes darted away told him he was right. Why else would Atl be dragging a human around with her?
He threw his head back and yelled. “Atl! Come out, you bitch. I have your buddy!”
Nick squeezed the young man’s face between his hands and tilted it, looking at it thoughtfully.
“Say something to the lady,” Nick ordered.
When the boy did not reply, Nick sighed, grabbed the electric prod that was strapped to his back, and pulled it out, lowering the voltage and pressing it against the human’s chest. The kid squealed, like a pig.
“Oink, oink! I’m going to fry him and squeeze his brains out if you don’t show yourself, Atl! You’ve got three!”
CHAPTER
39
Atl had no idea where she was headed, only that she had to run. Hide, Atl. Hide. This mantra, which she’d been following for weeks, comforted her. She was good at running.
And then she heard the loud voice, clear across the field of garbage.
“Atl! Come out, you bitch. I have your buddy!”
She paused, looking back. A ruse? Domingo had the dog and there was Bernardino back there.
Then she heard Domingo scream, a shriek that ripped through the darkness.
“Oink, oink! I’m going to fry him and squeeze his brains out if you don’t show yourself, Atl! You’ve got three!”
“You moron,” she whispered.
She couldn’t head back. She remembered the night Izel had died, the wait inside the refrigerator, her desperate efforts to evade Godoy’s men after that. She’d come too far to let herself be captured.
“One.”
She hadn’t saved Izel. Domingo was nothing. A child from the slums with only the most tenuous connection to her. He could be easily replaced.
“Two.”
She was not a warrior. She was not brave. She was none of the things they said about her ancestors. She wasn’t even anything like the fantasies of vampires Domingo spouted, picturing powerful creatures who roamed the night.
“Three.”
She was not …
“I’m here!” she yelled. “Wait!”
… leaving him behind.
She walked back the way she’d come, back toward the shacks. Fear made her stumble but fuck it, fuck it.
Oh, don’t be stupid, Izel said in her head.
You’re dead, she replied.
You too. Soon. Let him die, him better than you.
We are warriors, remember? Let’s fight for something worth a damn for once, she told Izel.
And the murmur of Izel, of doubt, cleared from her head just as she stepped behind the shacks.
Nick had a hand on Domingo’s shoulder, locking him in place. In his other hand he was holding an electric prod. A woman accompanied them.
A couple of meters behind the trio were corpses, splayed on the ground. Two humans but also Bernardino, impaled on a long metal pipe.
“Thank you,” Nick said. “I was thinking I’d have to chase you. It’s getting very boring.”
“No need for that.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“You can let him go,” she told Nick.
“I can?” Nick said. His face was a parody of a human face and his smile was full of savage mirth. “Maybe it would be more fun to torture you both.”
“Let him go.”
“I think not,” the vampire said.
There was a flash of metal and Domingo rammed the switchblade knife into Nick’s stomach. Nick’s grip on Domingo relaxed and he looked down, more shocked than angry. He didn’t seem able to process the thought that a human boy had just plunged a knife into his belly. Atl didn’t quite believe it either, but then Nick roared and there was no time to think and she pounced on him, pulling the knife out and plunging it into Nick’s left eye.
She was hauled back by the woman. Atl felt the pressure of the gun at her side and then she heard the shot, felt the pain as the bullet—silver, damn it—lodged in her body. She slammed her elbow against the woman’s rib cage with such force she was sure she had broken a couple of bones.
Good, she thought. She brushed her fingers against her side, jamming them into the wound, her nails tearing and enlarging the hole until she was able to pull out the bullet and toss it away, heaving, staring at the ground.
She raised her head just in time to receive a full, swift kick in the face courtesy of Nick.
“You bitch!” he yelled. He stood above her, blood pouring down his face. He kicked her again and she fell back, pushing herself up on her elbows.
He struck her with the electric prod. The charge made her convulse, her legs flailing in the air. He hit her again, this time in her stomach, and she spat out blood.
“Bet you didn’t like that, huh?” he said. “Hey, how about we try this with you.”
He pulled the knife out of his eye, twisting his head as he did, his teeth showing. When he dislodged the knife he slammed it down, into her stomach, then pulled it out again.
“Bet you wish it was over, little girl,” he snarled. “That is not happening.”
She rolled over herself, scrambling up, her hand pressed against her stomach. It felt warm, where the knife had cut it.