Certain Dark Things(91)

Then she heard Domingo scream, a shriek that ripped through the darkness.

“Oink, oink! I’m going to fry him and squeeze his brains out if you don’t show yourself, Atl! You’ve got three!”

“You moron,” she whispered.

She couldn’t head back. She remembered the night Izel had died, the wait inside the refrigerator, her desperate efforts to evade Godoy’s men after that. She’d come too far to let herself be captured.

“One.”

She hadn’t saved Izel. Domingo was nothing. A child from the slums with only the most tenuous connection to her. He could be easily replaced.

“Two.”

She was not a warrior. She was not brave. She was none of the things they said about her ancestors. She wasn’t even anything like the fantasies of vampires Domingo spouted, picturing powerful creatures who roamed the night.

“Three.”

She was not …

“I’m here!” she yelled. “Wait!”

… leaving him behind.

She walked back the way she’d come, back toward the shacks. Fear made her stumble but f*ck it, f*ck it.

Oh, don’t be stupid, Izel said in her head.

You’re dead, she replied.

You too. Soon. Let him die, him better than you.

We are warriors, remember? Let’s fight for something worth a damn for once, she told Izel.

And the murmur of Izel, of doubt, cleared from her head just as she stepped behind the shacks.

Nick had a hand on Domingo’s shoulder, locking him in place. In his other hand he was holding an electric prod. A woman accompanied them.

A couple of meters behind the trio were corpses, splayed on the ground. Two humans but also Bernardino, impaled on a long metal pipe.

“Thank you,” Nick said. “I was thinking I’d have to chase you. It’s getting very boring.”

“No need for that.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“You can let him go,” she told Nick.

“I can?” Nick said. His face was a parody of a human face and his smile was full of savage mirth. “Maybe it would be more fun to torture you both.”

“Let him go.”

“I think not,” the vampire said.

There was a flash of metal and Domingo rammed the switchblade knife into Nick’s stomach. Nick’s grip on Domingo relaxed and he looked down, more shocked than angry. He didn’t seem able to process the thought that a human boy had just plunged a knife into his belly. Atl didn’t quite believe it either, but then Nick roared and there was no time to think and she pounced on him, pulling the knife out and plunging it into Nick’s left eye.

She was hauled back by the woman. Atl felt the pressure of the gun at her side and then she heard the shot, felt the pain as the bullet—silver, damn it—lodged in her body. She slammed her elbow against the woman’s rib cage with such force she was sure she had broken a couple of bones.

Good, she thought. She brushed her fingers against her side, jamming them into the wound, her nails tearing and enlarging the hole until she was able to pull out the bullet and toss it away, heaving, staring at the ground.

She raised her head just in time to receive a full, swift kick in the face courtesy of Nick.

“You bitch!” he yelled. He stood above her, blood pouring down his face. He kicked her again and she fell back, pushing herself up on her elbows.

He struck her with the electric prod. The charge made her convulse, her legs flailing in the air. He hit her again, this time in her stomach, and she spat out blood.

“Bet you didn’t like that, huh?” he said. “Hey, how about we try this with you.”

He pulled the knife out of his eye, twisting his head as he did, his teeth showing. When he dislodged the knife he slammed it down, into her stomach, then pulled it out again.

“Bet you wish it was over, little girl,” he snarled. “That is not happening.”

She rolled over herself, scrambling up, her hand pressed against her stomach. It felt warm, where the knife had cut it.

“Are you giving up?”

Atl squinted as he spoke. She thought of Izel, the turtle, the scent of corpses burning, and raised her head. Nick was coming toward her and she could not summon the strength to fight back.

“No,” she said.

Nick tried to hit her with the electric prod. Atl managed to dodge the blow more by instinct than actual thought, but the exertion caused her to gasp. The pain in her stomach was very bad. She couldn’t stand straight. Nick tried to hit her again and when she stepped back she lost her footing.

And then she saw Domingo hurrying toward them, carrying the long rusty piece of metal that had been impaling Bernardino. Domingo swung it with all his strength, like a bat. It hit Nick in the head. The crunch of bone made her blink.

Domingo let go of the metal bar and stared at her.

Nick rose. There was so much blood pouring from his head. He opened his mouth, showing her his teeth, and turned toward Domingo with a shriek that left no doubt of his intention.

He was going to kill Domingo.

She jumped up in the air, unfurling her wings, tearing her jacket in the process. She pounced on Nick, landing on his back. He tried to shake her off but she dug her nails into his face and flapped her wings, pulling him up into the air. Just a few meters—a few meters was all she could manage—but it bought Domingo enough time to scuttle away.