Certain Dark Things(44)
“No, worries, Cualli,” he said in a placating tone, standing at the doorway. “I’m not going to hurt her.”
Domingo walked slowly into the bedroom and lay on the middle of the bed. He placed his hands against his chest, as though he were dead, as he’d seen vampires do in the movies when they slept. It was an uncomfortable position. He rolled on his side, put on the headphones. The music was loud and cheery, music to dance to.
He wondered if Atl might have danced with him. Not right now, not here, but maybe in another place. Maybe if she weren’t being chased by bad guys they could have gone to Quinto’s party.
CHAPTER
16
Nick switched the blood pack from one hand to the other, still unable to bring himself to open it. He’d been drinking alcohol all afternoon to keep his stomach at bay, but there was no denying it now. He needed blood and the only thing around the apartment was the blood packs in the freezer. Rodrigo and La Bola were keeping their eyes on him like hawks. There was no chance to slip out again.
God, Rodrigo. He thought himself so high and mighty, when he was nothing but a servant like all the others. One day Nick was going to be the boss. He’d show the old human … the lofty peacock who looked down at him like he was scum. It was Rodrigo who came from nowhere, had been a nothing until his dad plucked him from the shithole where he lived.
He might even bite Rodrigo, force him to drink his blood, turn him into a mindless puppet.
They said the other vampires couldn’t make slaves like that, that their blood didn’t work in this way. Atl’s kind, he’d heard, treated the whole blood-sharing thing like some sort of reverential, sacred process. Aztec bullshit about life, sacrifice, renewal.
Nick just thought it was fun to make himself a few slaves.
He grabbed the bottle of tequila and took a sip, sliding back on his bed and contemplating the ceiling.
Atl Iztac. If it weren’t for her he’d be enjoying himself back home, no need to open blood packs and feed from them like a ninny. When he got his hands on her … well. He was looking forward to a bit of torture. If they hacked and sliced her, then she’d heal, and they could hack and slice again. It might even be fun to turn her into one of his whores. Well, that was probably not the right word. Atl was a category above the stupid bar girls he picked up. Concubine? Was that the right word for this? He’d have to ask Rodrigo. On second thought, he didn’t want to ask the old man a single thing.
Concubine, then. Whatever. The word didn’t matter. What mattered was that Atl was just like Rodrigo: thinking herself so high, so above them. The Tlahuelpocmimi went on and on about their ancient heritage, their noble lineage, their days of pyramids and empires, without bothering to realize that it was in the past and they, we, are now in the same damn business. This was a new empire. And it belonged to Nick and his brothers.
He’d met Atl one time before this whole mess began, back when the situation between their clans was cold but not icy. He’d been at Hive, a neutral-zone joint, which meant you couldn’t bite the humans or spray bullets at other vampires. Nice place, good booze, safe and cozy, run by a Nachzehrer who had a love for the ’70s so the décor was vintage disco.
He’d been in a booth with Justiniano, a couple of his cousins, and assorted hangers-on when in walked a group of girls who seemed to attract a great deal of attention from the people around him, eliciting whispers. He asked Justiniano what the fuss was about and he said they were youngsters from the Iztac clan, which normally didn’t hang out around Hive, preferring other kinds of clubs.
“And who’s that one?” he’d asked, pointing at one girl who distinguished herself from her friends by her outfit and attitude, dressed in white, arms crossed as she stood by the bar surveying the scene.
“Atl Iztac, she’s Centehua’s youngest daughter,” Justiniano said.
It was that part of the night when Nick picked up a chick. He liked them blond and big-breasted, but this lithe brunette had an utterly delicious mouth. He thought he’d spice it up.
“Fuck me,” Nick said. “All right, let’s say hi to her.”
Justiniano had whispered that wasn’t a good idea but Nick shushed him. He traced a direct line to the girl and took off his sunglasses when he got to her, flashing her his trademark smile.
“Hey there, princess,” he said. “How are you doing? I’m Nick.”
She turned her head and stared at him, her lips pursed together. “Let me guess,” she said. “Necros, aren’t you?”
“Got me there, princess.”
“It wasn’t difficult.”
The bartender dropped a shot next to her and she picked it up with one gloved hand but did not drink it, pressing it against the hollow of her throat instead as she looked away. What a neck, eh? And the breasts might be small but he could tell they’d be worth it. She’d be worth it.
“I have a private booth here, you know. We could go sit down.”
“I don’t think I’m going to stay long enough to sit down,” she said.
“Music is not to your taste?”
“The clientele,” she said. She drank the shot and slammed the empty glass on the bar.
All right, he liked a tad of attitude, but not that much of it. He’d tried to be nice and she was not reciprocating, and that pissed him off. Girls didn’t dare pull that bitchy act with him, he was Nick Godoy. “Hey, darling, you’ve got a case of lousy manners,” he told her, clutching her arm.