He decided to buy a gift for Atl because he’d seen an ad for diamonds near a bus stop once that had informed him that diamonds celebrate the greatest love stories.
He wandered around the jewelry department, staring at rings, earrings, necklaces, pins. They looked too frilly, too simple, too elaborate, too cheap. He settled at last on a watch. It was completely black save for the hands, which were white. He asked the lady behind the counter to wrap it.
Domingo walked out nearly broke and feeling very happy even though he had only a few bills in his pocket and he was starting to feel hungry.
It was dark by the time he made it to Atl’s apartment building. He stood outside for a while, trying to figure out how he was going to get in, before an old lady with a dog and a bag of groceries opened the front door. He politely held the door for her and was able to gain access to the building this way.
He looked at the mailboxes in the lobby. A few of them were labeled with the occupant’s name. Others said simply TENANT. None said Atl. He figured he could remember her door, just as he’d tattooed the way to her building in his mind, and climbed the stairs to her floor.
When he reached her door, he held his breath and knocked. He couldn’t hear anything inside. Domingo knocked again. Silence.
He was going to knock a third time when the door swung open suddenly. The dog growled at him. Atl leaned against the doorframe, frowning. Her eyes were a bit red, like she’d been up for a long time.
“Hi. Atl. Um … What are you doing tonight?” he asked lamely. He’d practiced his greeting. It had sounded better in his head.
“Go away,” she said.
“Wait,” he said, holding up his hands in front of him. “I figure you want a steady person. Steady food, no? And … the other day, it was, ah … it was fun. Kind of.”
“Fun,” she repeated.
“I just … I have this hunch about you. I think we could be friends. That’s what you said, no? That you’re looking for a friend.”
He was going to add that she seemed kind of lonely and he was kind of lonely too, but she stared at him so hard all he could do was look down at his shoes knowing he’d probably fucked it up. He ought to have given her the gift first.
“You’re not getting any more money, all right?” she said. “I don’t need food right now. There’s no sense in you coming here.”
“You only eat young blood, no?” he asked.
“Yeah. I do,” she said. “Before you even think about it, that doesn’t make me a Lucy Westenra, all right?”
“Like in Dracula? Oh, I read that one,” he said.
He’d also watched a black-and-white movie with that bloke, Germán Robles, which wasn’t quite Dracula but wasn’t far from it either. He should ask her if she’d seen the film.
Her frown deepened. He heard voices coming down the hallway. People were walking their way.
“Get in,” Atl said, pulling him inside.
CHAPTER
5
Atl had made a mistake. The kid had found his way back. She was a silly girl. She would die.
She rubbed her wrist, nervous. She could kill him, could stuff his body in the bathtub. It would decompose, and what if he made a ruckus and what if … what if … Somebody was coming down the hallway and what if those were cops? Surely they were cops.
Cool it, she thought. She had made it from Sinaloa. She had avoided Godoy’s agents and fooled everyone in Guadalajara, backtracking and sneaking into Mexico City. She was young and she was not prepared for this, but she was not foolish. What was he? Nothing but a street kid without common sense. She would make him leave. If he wouldn’t go willingly, then she’d kill him.
“Yeah, Dracula,” she muttered as she locked the door.
Atl stared at Domingo until he lowered his gaze, studying his shoes. Had he … bathed? And the clothes looked new. What was this, a bizarre courtship ritual?
“I read the comic book adaptation, actually. It was good. I figure it’s the same thing as the book, no? I … you know this article it talked about vampires and children and blood and there was a picture of a baby—”
She drank the blood of young people, not babies! Suddenly Atl was more offended that he thought she ate infants than worried because he’d returned to her apartment.
“Be quiet,” she ordered.
The voices were drawing closer. She heard laughter, a giggle. Three, four people. They were in front of her door for a moment, but they kept walking. Not cops. Just other tenants.
Atl let out a sigh and looked at Domingo. He had extended his hand as if to pet the dog.
“He’ll bite your hand off,” she warned him, and Domingo stopped in midair.
Izel had given Atl her first dog. Izel loved animals. She was fond of her axolotls, but she also had a thing for snakes and spiders. When they would drive around and Izel spotted roadkill, she would often stop to look at it. Sometimes she buried the animals in the desert.
“What’s it called?” Domingo asked.
Atl crossed her arms, leaning her back against the front door. “I said I’m not paying you.”
“I know. I didn’t come for money. I have a gift for you.”
He took out a white box from his jacket. It was wrapped with a red bow. Atl tore the paper off. Instinct. That innate desire for presents and secrets. A compulsion similar to the one that drove her to count grains of rice and beans in jars.
It was a watch. Atl felt it going tick-tick-tick beneath her fingers. Such a pleasant and reassuring sound.
She shook her head, raising an eyebrow at the boy. “Why are you giving me this?”
“I wanted to get you something pretty. Do you like it?”
“Take it back,” she said, tossing it to him and slowly circling the living room like a wild cat inspecting its cage.
“It’s not a cheap plastic one. It’s a nice one.”
“Look, you’ve got to get a few facts straight, all right? I’m not in Mexico City on vacation. You don’t want to hang out with me. Trust me, I’m more likely to bite your head off than give you a hug. Understood?”
She spoke more to herself than to him. He was nobody of importance. A speck, a nothing.
“You can really bite someone’s head off?” Domingo said, excited. “That’s cool!”
“Jesus,” Atl said, standing still and staring at him. “Are you some sort of fanboy?”
Domingo shook his head. “No.”
“Why are you here?”
“You seem all right. I like your dog,” he said. “I didn’t have anything to do so I thought I’d say hi.”
What an idiot, she thought. He wasn’t even there to blackmail her, not that he had the air of a blackmailer. But maybe she was the greater fool because she was starting to think, starting to consider … a tlapalēhuiāni. They had different names for them—some called them Renfields or blood lackeys or other nicknames, but she thought that was a disservice—although the rules were pretty constant regardless of names. Human servants, loyal to a vampire. The particulars might vary, but in general it was a type of vassalage, taken rather seriously by vampires. Renfields represented an extension of the value of the vampire’s clan, so you would not have a Renfield dressed shabbily or behaving in a dishonorable way. Killing a vampire’s Renfield was akin to injuring a family member, and Renfields were protected by whatever treaty was arranged between vampire clans. Vampires tended to keep only one or two Renfields, though they might employ many humans in their service. Or in the case of the Necros, they might enslave many humans and still keep a Renfield.