Certain Dark Things(23)

“Yes,” Domingo replied, and then, before he could stop himself he spoke again. “Are you a Revenant?”

Domingo’s knowledge of vampires was fragmented; the Necros were the ones who appeared most often in popular culture. But the silhouette of the Revenants was distinctive, with their crooked spines, and though he’d seen only a couple of drawings of them he remembered that telltale detail.

The vampire smiled, pocketing the bead. “Most definitely.” He pointed to an overstuffed leather chair. “Please sit.”

Domingo did. There was a toy wooden horse in a corner. He noticed a pile of newspapers by the man’s chair and these also had crosswords that had been solved. He had the crazy desire to go through the stuff. It was the garbage collector in him, eager to find empty bottles and secret treasures. He stilled himself, resting his hands in his lap, trying to keep himself from repeatedly tapping his foot. He was nervous.

“I thought there weren’t any vampires living in Mexico City,” Domingo said.

“This house was built during the reign of Santa Anna, more than a hundred and fifty years ago. It was the time when he was imposing great taxes. Taxes for dogs. Even taxes for breathing. He taxed you by the number of windows and doors your home had. People bricked their windows and their doors. But I didn’t mind. It was good for me.

“Then came the Revolution. You could hear the cannon in the distance. I remember the smell of charred corpses drifting in under the door. A great quake hit in ’85. Half the Roma fell to pieces. But not this house. Not this one.”

The vampire placed his hands atop his cane and stared at Domingo.

“This is my home. It will always be my home. There are too many noises outside, too many cars and smells and people, but not here.”

“I wouldn’t want to move, either. You have cool stuff. What’s that thing over there?” Domingo asked.

The vampire looked over his shoulder. “One of my phonographs.”

“What does it do?”

“It plays music. It’s very old. Would you like to listen to it?”

“Sure.”

The vampire shuffled toward the machine. Domingo thought the contraption looked like a box with a gigantic flower or a big trumpet sticking out of the top. It had a delicate handle, which Bernardino pulled. Music began to stream from the phonograph.

Domingo listened with interest as the recording hiccupped and played. The vampire was smiling. His teeth were yellow and very large.

“Have you ever thought of selling it?” he asked.

The vampire’s smile disappeared. “No,” he said with a finality that made Domingo wince.

The phonograph went quiet and the vampire sat down again. Domingo looked at him, afraid to speak and say the wrong thing. A cat rubbed itself against his legs, purring, almost making him jump out of his seat.

“Here, here,” said the vampire, and the cat left Domingo alone and jumped onto the vampire’s lap.

The vampire propped his cane against the side of his chair and began petting the cat, his thin fingers carefully stroking its fur.

“Your mistress, what’s her name again?”

“My mistress,” Domingo repeated.

The vampire smirked, looking mightily amused. Domingo didn’t like that. He hated feeling like he was the butt of a joke.

“Yes. What was that name?”

“Atl.”

“Beautiful name. Beautiful girl. She must be. Her mother was a beauty. My kind, well, they are this,” the vampire said, pointing to himself. “Kyphosis, the great ugly hump. But I have my advantages.”

“She sent me because she needs to find someone. She wrote the name down for me.”

Domingo grabbed the crumpled piece of paper and gave it to Bernardino. The vampire looked at it with an easy indifference, nodding.

“Atl has money.”

“She does, does she? She also has a serious case of idiocy,” the vampire said. “I haven’t lived this long to take a bullet for a woman I do not know.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The person she wants will not like being found. And she will know it was me who gave Atl the information. Even worse, Atl wouldn’t come to me unless she were in a dire situation, which I will not speculate about. I refuse to get involved. Tell her that.”

“But you’ve got to help her,” Domingo said, jumping to his feet. “She said it was life or death.”

“Sit down,” the vampire said angrily, lifting his left hand.

Domingo didn’t know how it happened. One second he was standing and then the next his knees buckled and the man was pushing him down back into the leather chair, pressing a hand against his neck. Damn. He was fast.

“She was rather silly to send you,” the vampire said. “What did she think I’d do with you, hmm? Invite you in for tea and cookies? This girl must want you dead.”

She’s my friend, he thought furiously.

The vampire released him and Domingo rubbed his neck.

“A friend,” the vampire said with a chuckle. “A snack, maybe.”

Bernardino picked up a cat and peered down at Domingo.

Domingo stared at the vampire.

“Did you just read my mind?” he asked, shocked that the vampire could actually do that. It seemed more impossible than the other stuff they said about vampires, like turning into bats or mist. Okay, maybe not mist.