Certain Dark Things(66)

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.

“You know it’s not a lie.”

He tilted her chin up, as if to get a better look at her. His eyes narrowed and he released her with a huff. “You look like her,” he muttered, his voice tinged with irritation.

“These old ties that bind us…” He trailed away, lost in thought for a moment, then seemed to refocus sharply, his voice unpleasant. “You smell sick. Come in here.”

Atl shuffled after him, into a room lit with numerous candles. It was a study, the walls lined with bookcases, a desk against a wall. She found a chair, currently occupied by a cat. She shooed the cat away and slid onto it. Her hand was throbbing and she had to bite her tongue not to start whimpering.

Bernardino lit a lantern and held it up as he approached her.

“What happened to you?” the vampire asked.

“Silver nitrate darts. They removed the darts, but I’m not well.”

“You have a stench about you. The stench of rotting flesh. Take off the jacket.”

Atl obeyed him, wincing and tossing the jacket on the floor. Bernardino motioned for Domingo to hold the lantern up and he did. The vampire took away the bandage on her arm, a finger sliding upon the wound. He grabbed her hand, which she had squeezed into a fist, and made her open it, causing a new wave of pain to hit her. He stared at her palm.

“You were bitten.”

“Yes.”

“By a Necros.”

“Yes.”

He released her hand.

“The wound is infected. You can’t heal properly with this and it can quickly spread, killing you,” Bernardino said in a matter-of-fact voice.

“Infected?” Atl mumbled. It seemed she could not manage more than staccato answers.

“A Necros bite, in your debilitated state, is a sure recipe for death. Do you understand?”

“What do we do?”

“Amputate the hand and hope the infection does not spread.”

“Wait, what? Cut her hand?” Domingo said, putting the lantern down and turning to Bernardino. “You can’t do that!”

“She’ll heal. It won’t be a permanent loss.”

“Like what, she can grow a new one?”

“Like the axolotls,” Atl whispered.

Domingo did not hear her or did not care for her words. He spoke loudly and placed himself between Atl and Bernardino.

“I don’t think you can cut anything. She’s lost a lot of blood. She’s barely able to stand up,” Domingo said. “You can’t.”

“She’ll die, then.”

“I won’t let you hurt her.”

“Amputate it,” Atl said.

Domingo and Bernardino both turned their heads to look at her. She gritted her teeth, her hand throbbing, her body twisting with pain.

“Amputate,” she repeated.

Bernardino opened a large mahogany case, pulled out a black leather bag, and placed it on the floor, by the desk. Next, he cleared the desk, shoving his papers aside. He dragged a small table closer and opened the bag, taking out knives, a saw, suture needles, and other surgical instruments. He placed them neatly next to each other. Atl swallowed.

“Don’t worry. I’ve done this hundreds of times,” Bernardino said, catching her worried gaze. “I attended patients during the Mexican Revolution.”

“Wasn’t that a hundred years ago?” she asked.

“The tools are sharp and you should be able to cope with the pain. That is all that matters. Come, you’ll have to lie down.”

Atl stood and stumbled as she walked toward the desk. She sat on it, then lay down, pressing her lips together.

“Hold up the lantern,” Bernardino told Domingo.

Atl supposed it would be better to close her eyes, but she found that she was unable to perform even this simple gesture. Instead, she lay looking at Bernardino as he applied a tourniquet to stem the blood flow.

“Ready?” he asked.

She nodded.

He clamped his hand around her arm and, with a sharp knife, made a few quick incisions, lifting the skin as though it were the cuff of a coat. He cut her muscles down to the bone, cut nerves, and though she could withstand pain much more efficiently than a human she was terrified.

Bernardino grabbed the saw and she did not want to see this, she did not, yet she watched as her bone was exposed and then came the firm and slow saw. She did close her eyes when it sliced through, she closed her eyes tight and tried hard not to flinch.

She remained stiff as a board, Bernardino’s fingers fluttering against her skin. The soft feel of thread dragged through her flesh and was almost soothing. He threaded quick, methodical stitches.

Bernardino touched her mouth and she opened her eyes. She had no idea how long the operation had taken. It seemed to her it had been forever.