Certain Dark Things(56)

“Shit, dude. Okay, fine. I’ll look at your damn dog,” Quinto said, gulping his beer and tossing the bottle in the sink.

They had to cross the living room to reach the door. Domingo saw that Belén and the Jackal had caught sight of him this time, and were staring in his direction.

“Hurry up, before the Jackal decides to talk to us,” Domingo said. Nothing good could ever come when the Jackal took an interest in you and Domingo didn’t need no shit that night.

Domingo shoved Quinto out the door and they rushed down the stairs.

Quinto’s car was an old, white Volkswagen beetle from the ’60s. A damn classic, Quinto said. As soon as they slid into the vehicle, Quinto blasted the tired radio with heavy metal songs in German. The music was so loud it didn’t allow for any conversation, and Domingo was grateful for that. Once they reached the tunnels, though, Quinto started humming, as was his custom.

The humming stopped as soon as they stepped into the room and Quinto took a look at his bed, which was stained with many strokes of red.

“Shit, man! What you do? Kidnap and kill a chick?”

The Doberman, which was sleeping by his mistress’s feet, raised his head when Quinto screamed.

“We had an accident. I need you to help her out.”

“What damn kind of accident? Jesus,” Quinto said.

“Just … will you look at her? She’s running a fever.”

Quinto grimaced, but sat next to Atl and rolled her onto her back. He jumped to his feet as soon as he saw her face and frankly Domingo couldn’t blame him, ’cause she looked pretty bad. She’d coughed more blood and her chin was streaked black. Her features were not wholly human. There was something of that bird of prey look about her; she seemed deformed, alien. It reminded him of a picture he’d seen of an animal called a harpy and also of someone named Medusa, and still there was a bit of beauty in the strangeness, though, just like there’s always a kind of beauty about a wild animal.

“What the hell?!” Quinto screeched. “She’s not—she’s, she’s—”

“She’s a vampire and she’s hurt,” Domingo said, cutting him off. “I need you to help her.”

“Help her? No way, man! No way!” Quinto said, waving his hands wildly.

“Yes way! Right now.”

“What do I know about vampires?”

“Well, you patch up them dogs.”

“Two years of veterinary school, dude!” Quinto said, holding up two fingers for emphasis. “That’s not the same as a vampire. No. Take your damn watch back.” Quinto tossed the watch at him.

Domingo caught it and held it tight. He took a deep breath. “If you don’t help me out, that dog’s gonna kill you,” Domingo said. He was a bit surprised to notice how calm he sounded.

“What?”

“That’s an attack dog,” Domingo said. “It’s a modified dog and it’s meant to kill people and I can make it eat your face.”

“Dude, come on,” Quinto said, attempting a laugh and only managing a pathetic, frightened half chuckle. “That’s not right.”

“Cualli,” Domingo said, and the dog growled, eyes fixed on Quinto.

“You’re serious? You’d kill me over a vampire bitch?”

Quinto had been okay to Domingo and Domingo didn’t want to be an *, but he forced himself to nod. ’Cause she needed him. She was depending on him. “Take a look at her.”

“All right! Keep the dog away.”

Domingo stepped back and sat on the floor. He called to the dog and it went toward him, though it gave Quinto a wary look.

Quinto took Atl’s pulse and hovered over her, pulling away the T-shirt she was clutching. “What happened to her?”

“She was shot with these darts, silver nitrate. Said she was going into shock. Ana-something shock.”

“Anaphylactic shock?”

Domingo thought that was the word. “What’s that?”

“It’s an allergic reaction.”

“What do we do?”

“I’m not sure. Look, normally I’d say give her an epinephrine shot, but she’s not human and she should be dead by now by the way she’s looking. Her heart’s racing like crazy.”

“I took the darts out but it seems to have done no good.”

“I need more light.”

Domingo grabbed one of the lanterns and held it up while Quinto stared at her legs and arms.

Quinto shook his head. “I think there are fragments of the dart in the shoulder. The arm’s swollen, too. Look, I don’t have no equipment to treat her here, not even a stethoscope. I’m not sure what you want me to do.”

“Where would you have the equipment?”

“Over at the kennels. But that’s the stuff I use on the dogs, dude. No guarantees it would help.”

“Then let’s take her there.”

“You crazy? The Jackal would have a shit fit if I took her there. He’s paranoid about the dogs. You want him breaking your arms?”

“I’ll worry about that later.”

“She’s covered in blood. My car—”

“Then we’ll wrap her in a blanket and her jacket. Let’s go.”