Certain Dark Things(86)

“I’m coming to check on you,” he said. “To see how the flesh is healing today.”

He walked out without another word. Atl followed him. Domingo stood up, as if intending to go with them, but she motioned for him to sit down.

Atl and Bernardino went to the study, where he unrolled the bandage and looked at the hand. Bones and muscle were starting to grow and she had a palm and the beginnings of two fingers. Bernardino observed them carefully, bending the fingers, even pricking the skin with a tiny needle. He applied a salve to her skin.

“Sometimes the flesh twists and the scarring is poor. It’s not the case. You are doing fine.”

“That’s a relief.”

“There’s been a development, hasn’t there?” he asked.

Atl frowned as he changed the bandage, but did not reply.

“What would your mother say if she knew you were sleeping with a human?”

“She’s dead, so her opinion doesn’t matter,” she said.

Atl thought about Izel and what she’d told her about humans: Neanderthals. In Bernardino’s eyes she’d let a monster rut between her legs. She would have agreed with him just a few days before.

“Even if he’s a Renfield?”

“Like you’ve never—”

“No,” Bernardino said, his voice clipped. “I don’t play with my food. That is for the Necros. I thought you had more pride.”

They burned, his words, and she felt herself branded by them. Atl might have given him a good kick in the gut if they didn’t still need his sanctuary. She took a deep breath, composing herself, though she couldn’t help the defiance in her voice. “It doesn’t make a difference,” she said.

“You should be thinking with your head.”

“I have yet to lose my head over a boy.”

“I expect a certain degree of na?veté from him, but not from you, my dear. As I explained to our mutual friend, ultimately we are entirely selfish creatures.”

“What did you tell him?” she asked, her voice almost a hiss.

“I told him we are our hunger. I don’t think you’d deny that.”

It was the kind of thing Izel might have told her, and Izel had always been right.

“Have you thought about killing him?”

“No,” she said.

“You have. In the—”

“No,” she cut him off, knowing that he was reading her mind and that he was very much right. After they escaped Nick and his men, just a few days ago, she’d wanted to hurt him. She hadn’t cared, her head too foggy with pain.

Bernardino looked almost bemused, his lips curling into a smile. “So much for young love,” he said.

She opened her mouth and then shut it, uncertain how to respond. Or if she should even attempt a response. Bernardino finished fiddling with the bandage and let go of her hand.

“Don’t complicate things for yourself,” he said.

Why not? she wanted to shriek, but of course, he was being completely reasonable. She was the hormonal girl who couldn’t keep her hands to herself.

“Well, you are healing and I’ve had a word with you already,” Bernardino said. “I suppose you want to return to him for a few more hours of idiotic, useless comfort before our departure. Go ahead.”

Go to hell. She dearly hoped he was able to read that thought.

*

“Did you know Brazil is the world’s fifth-largest country?” Domingo asked. “It has a coastline of 7,491 kilometers.”

Domingo had found an encyclopedia lying around the house and promptly pulled out the letter B. He proceeded to recite factoids to Atl while they sat on the bed. He’d taken off his shirt and was only in his trousers while she wore an old-fashioned white nightgown she found in a drawer. It reached her ankles and the irony did not escape her that it resembled the outfit the woman wore in the vampire book she’d seen at Domingo’s home. Dracula’s Mistress. Only the roles were reversed, since she was the vampire, not the girl fleeing a dark castle.

“It also has major shipping lanes, in case we need to get out of the country,” she said.

“You don’t think anyone would follow us there, do you?” he asked, lowering his book.

She opened drawers and found a blouse and trousers. The trousers looked too large for her, but there was a belt. She did not want the nightgown anymore. Did not want to look like a joke.

“Probably not,” she said.

“It’ll be strange being so far from Mexico.”

“Having second thoughts?” She peeled off the nightgown and put on the trousers. He was looking at her.

“No,” he said simply. “I don’t have no one here.”

I don’t have anyone either, she thought. Perhaps that was why she’d let herself be swept into this. He hadn’t seduced her, not by far, but she’d been seduced anyway by the thoughts of comfort and companionship. Her family was gone, her home razed. She must scrub herself of her name, her identity, her very self. She had a need for an anchor, a friendly face.

Weak, she thought. You are no warrior, never will be.

“Are you all right?” he asked, brushing her hand as she drifted by, tucking the blouse into her trousers.

“Fine,” she muttered.