Page 23

CHAPTER 23

Lalo

Lalo stood before a sprawling graveyard. Mossy headstones carved from granite and marble spoke of age. The moon had finally sifted through the clouds, illuminating the dark forest to their north and the valley to their south. Orilla del Río had been situated due east of the river that flowed from the woods and through Del Oro. In the daylight, Lalo imagined the small falls to be quite beautiful. And centuries ago, the cemetery was probably a lovely resting place.

The alarms still rang in the distance. Was Maricela out there? Was she hunting for him now, or another one of her children? He was still unsure how they had found him.

He and Carolina had stolen a small basin of blood from the butcher, most likely kept cool underground to make sausages. Lalo drank and drank, but he couldn’t quite satiate the thirst. His body didn’t feel nearly as wretched, though.

He chanced a glance at Carolina and jolted. She was glaring hard in his direction.

“This must be a jest,” she said, a shovel gripped like a weapon in her hands. “We can’t desecrate my great-great-great-grandfather’s grave.”

“It is the only way to prove if Alma asked Tecuani to bring him back from the Land of the Dead.”

Carolina’s fingers dug into the wooden handle. “You made me bring you all this way so you can tarnish my family’s good name?”

“No. I brought you out here to help confirm that Vidal is the original sediento. Contrary to what you might believe, not everything is about you or your family.”

“We’re literally standing before my family’s burial ground.”

She had a point, but this wasn’t some personal vendetta against the Fuenteses.

“The Fuenteses have protected the people of Del Oro for centuries. So, yes, this is about us because you are trying to say the very people who swore to protect this valley are the ones to cause this curse in the first place.”

Carolina’s horse whinnied. They both quieted, waiting for someone to bound out of the shadows. But then the stallion began to munch on the shrubs with ease.

“Whatever the case,” Lalo said. “We must find the original sediento. Destroying him is the only way to fix everything.”

“Yes, you keep saying that.”

He turned to her. Though her face was lit by the moon, he didn’t need it to see how stunning she was. How her lips always curved in a smirk. How her skin looked soft. How her eyes glistened with ferocity. He was so damn drawn to her. Despite how frustratingly stubborn she was, he found himself aching to move closer. He stepped nearer, just to see how his body might react.

Her pulse quickened.

Did she feel that pull too?

Of course not, he reminded himself. She was a vampiro hunter. He was, unfortunately, very much a vampiro. And even if he weren’t, she was Carolina Victoria Fuentes—strong, witty, and as beautiful as a sunrise. She was surrounded by an enormous, boisterous family that cared for her; there’d be no room for him. He was just a bookish boy with only his sister who loved him—more like tolerated him—on most days.

He cleared his throat and took a step back.

“I have read articles, journals, books, and scriptures about monsters like this from across the world.” He nodded toward the headstone. The granite was worn smooth from wind and age, but Vidal’s name was still there. “If Vidal’s body is not inside this grave, Alma came out here in her great sorrow and made a deal with the god of death.”

Carolina’s brow furrowed as she looked upon the grass. “I don’t know if I should pray Vidal is in there or not.”

Surprise bloomed within him. She didn’t argue. She didn’t say he was mistaken and disregard him. Carolina would see his ideas through with him. Raw emotion clogged his throat. Besides Fernanda, he hadn’t had an ally in so long.

“For my sake,” Lalo said. “Let’s hope he is not.”

“And if it is him?”

Lalo let out a sigh. “Then I’ll find the tool Alma used to call upon Tecuani, locate Vidal, and strike him down before I am lost to the thirst.” Before Maricela found him would be good as well.

Carolina huffed a laugh, her breath fogging the air around her. “Is that all?”

“Should there be more?”

“I’m teasing, Lalo.” She shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips, and dug her shovel into the soft earth.

Lalo took up the shovel lying near his feet and joined her.

“May I ask you something, Carolina?” A chill swept through him. He didn’t think he’d ever said only her first name aloud before. It felt intimate, especially under the stars.

“Only if it won’t irritate me,” she said.

“I cannot guarantee that. You seem to live in a constant state of exasperation.”

“My own curse to endure.”

Lalo held back his smile. “I am curious how vampiros get past Del Oro’s barriers. It should be quite impossible.”

“Usually it’s human error. A gate left open here. A guard falling asleep there. Sometimes the leeches get creative and break through the weaker structures in the outer edges. Now I wonder if there isn’t a bit of their soul still inside them and they know all the hidden ways in. Perhaps they aren’t completely lost to the bloodlust, and some are just trying to find their way home.” She paused. “I used to think every sediento’s soul was gone the moment they turned. That they were these things whose only purpose was to kill. But you have changed my mind on the matter. I mean, look at you. How do you do it?”

“I am not special, if that is what you’re saying.”

“I wasn’t.”

Lalo snorted. “Well, just in case you were, I’ll tell you this. When I was first turned, I could think of nothing but feeding. My body physically ached inside when I didn’t. But the people in the cantina I was in had horrendous thoughts and memories, I felt more disgust than anything. Those memories still play in my mind. I imagine, though, if the people I drank from had been happy or pleasant, I might have never been awakened from that fever dream. I could see how it’d be overwhelmingly addictive if those lives were good.”

“Interesting.”

They worked in silence. Heaving the damp soil over their shoulders and grunting with exertion.

After a while, Carolina asked, “What was that quote you told my apá the night we were caught in his library?”

“What a fond memory to bring up while we’re knee-deep in a grave site.”

“May I remind you this was your idea?”

“It was from a sonnet.” He cleared his throat. “ And what is a few moments when our souls have known each other since the beginning of time? It was written by—”

“Pío Parra,” she finished. “Yes, I know. But you got it wrong.”

Lalo stopped shoveling. “I beg your pardon?”

“That isn’t how the poem goes.”

“And how would you know?”

Even if he wasn’t facing her, he would be able to sense the rolling of her eyes. “I’ve read all his works,” she said.

Lalo gaped. “All? But that’s…”

“Fifty-seven booklets. Fifty-nine, counting his anthologies. I’ve read most of the greats. Reyes, Espinoza, Jiménez, Torres.”

“That’s…You’re…”

“Exaggerating?” she challenged.

“No, that wasn’t what I was going to say in the slightest.”

She paused her digging and faced him. “What were you going to say?”

“I was going to say that you are amazing.”

“Oh.” She smiled bashfully. “Thank you.”

“Do you have a favorite?” he asked. He’d never met someone who was more read than him in such a manner. He felt elated, despite their circumstances.

“Truth be told, that very sonnet and that exact line is my favorite above everything else. I’ve read it at least a thousand times because I love it so.” Carolina began to shovel again. “That is how I know you misrepresented it.”

“Impossible,” he said. “It too is my favorite line, and I too have read it a thousand times.”

“Then you wouldn’t know it isn’t And what is a few moments when our souls have known each other since the beginning of time? But And what is a few moments when our souls have loved each other since the beginning of time? You ruined the best part.”

Lalo’s brain nibbled on those words. By the stars, she was right. How could he have made that mistake?

He snuck a glance at Carolina. Her hair had fallen from its braid. Her brown skin was covered in dirt. And yet, she appeared perfectly smug. He quite liked that smirk playing on her face. Her confidence was inexplicably as charming as it was irritating. A conundrum, to be certain.

Her eyes met his.

“What?” she whispered.

“You’ve got mud on your cheek,” he said. He didn’t know why. He panicked.

She raised a brow. “So do you.”

He recoiled. “I do not.”

Carolina reached forward and something cool pressed against his cheek.

“Now you do,” she said.

Lalo gasped.

She giggled as she pulled back her soiled hand.

“Oh, you are a devil,” he scorned. But he found himself smiling. He grabbed a glob of dirt and flung it her way. Carolina laughed and shielded herself with a raised hand.

Shaking his head, Lalo dug his shovel into the earth again. This time, the blade bumped into something hard. They both froze.

“Vidal’s coffin,” Carolina uttered. She made no motion to move.

“Indeed.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. This was it. Lalo would learn if he was one step closer or back at square one.

“Ready?” Carolina asked.

“Not really.”

“Want me to do it?” Her eyes searched his. And for a moment, he was stunned by how empathetic her gaze was.

“Together?” he asked.

She nodded and knelt. He did the same. He reached down, ready to dig into the grave dirt. Their fingers grazed, and a shock of warmth sizzled up his skin. Carolina drew back.

Recovering from the moment, they began to shove the dirt away.

Together, they dug toward the center.

Lalo’s heart dipped at the first sight of splintered wood.

“Holy hells,” Carolina whispered.

They dug harder and found nothing but bits of shattered fragments until his knuckles bumped into the bottom of the coffin.

“There’s nothing here,” Carolina said.

“Keep searching. We must be sure.”

His fingers skimmed against something cold and hard. He jerked back.

“What is it?” Carolina asked.

“There’s something there.” Please don’t let it be a bone. Please don’t let it be a bone.

Carolina shoved her arm into the hole he created. She frowned, then slowly tugged something out.

Lalo’s pulse quickened.

She held up something that width-wise fit in the palm of her hand. The length was no longer than his forearm.

Carolina dusted the caked-on mud until a rusted hilt with curled edges could be seen.

“A dagger,” she whispered, and brushed off the remaining dirt.

Lalo sighed with relief, then slouched, his chin tucked into his chest.

“The grave is empty,” he breathed. He looked up at Carolina, who stared at the broken shards underfoot.

“This can’t be real,” she whispered. “He’s not here. Perhaps we are mistaken? What if we desecrated the wrong site? It could’ve been mismarked. Or maybe a grave robber came and…” She clung to the soiled dagger as if that would offer her some clue.

“If a thief pilfered this grave, wouldn’t they have taken the very valuable blade too?” Lalo asked.

“A Fuentes would never…We are here to protect our people. Not do”—she waved her hand at their surroundings—“whatever happened here.”

“Have you ever been in love, Carolina?”

Her brown eyes flashed in the dark. “Why would you ask such a thing?”

“I cannot say that I am an expert.” He’d never even held a woman’s hand besides his mother’s and sister’s until Carolina took his before the duel. “But you’ve read the same sonnets about love and heartbreak as I have. Surely you know the power true love contains.”

She pointed at the empty coffin. “This is destruction. There is nothing powerful about going to the gods and asking them to tear a hole through the veil of this realm and the next. This is selfishness.”

“Then I am selfish too,” he admitted. “After my mother and father were slain, I begged for the gods to bring my parents back. But alas, Fernanda and I are alone in this world.”

“You aren’t alone,” she said softly. Had his hearing not been heightened by the power of Tecuani, he might not have caught those three beautiful words. “I did the same thing when Abuelo was taken. I prayed to the gods every night for weeks. I thought that if I begged hard enough, I’d wake up and learn it was just a nightmare.” Her chin quivered. “Is it because I didn’t cry hard enough? Because I didn’t love deep enough? Do the gods only listen if you offer them something in return like Alma? What kinds of gods are those?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I am sorry.”

“I miss him so much.” She clamped her hand over her mouth as if that was the first time she’d ever confessed such a thing. Tears fell into her fingers. And then she began to sob. This was no ordinary cry either. This was deep and ferocious.

Lalo understood this heartache. It arrived suddenly and viciously. The sorrow, the anger, the pain. No matter how hard a person tried to tuck away the feeling, grief came and went whenever it wished.

He had wanted to be held while he wept for his parents. But he was the one who needed to be strong for his sister while her world imploded. He didn’t mind. Fernanda had become his everything in less than a minute. He offered his sister whatever consolation he could. And if Carolina allowed it, he’d do the same for her.

Slowly, as if he were approaching a bear, he slid his arms around her shoulders and pressed her body against his.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair. “I’m so very sorry.”

“I miss him so desperately I want to scream.”

She clasped the back of his shirt, holding on to him as if he were a lifeline.

“He was the only one besides Nena to believe in me. And now he’s gone.”

“I believe in you,” Lalo said. He hoped he hadn’t overstepped, or that she would snort and tell him she didn’t care, but instead she whispered, “Thank you. I believe in you, too.”

Lalo stilled as that statement settled into his core.

“I’m sorry about your parents, too,” she said softly.

His vision blurred. He blinked, and a tear ran down his cheek. Lalo swiped it away. His eyes snagged on the inky moisture staining his fingers. His jaw dropped.

Blood. He’d cried blood.

Frantically, he rubbed away the gore. He couldn’t let her see him like this. He couldn’t be a reminder of the very beasts that had taken her beloved abuelo.

Carolina started to pull away, but he held her tightly to his chest.

“Lalo?” she mumbled into his shirt.

He didn’t let go until he believed he’d cleaned off the mess. When she slipped from him, he immediately missed the feel of her.

She laughed shyly and brushed at the tears drying on her face. “I feel rather foolish.”

“Don’t,” he said. “Never be embarrassed about anything when it comes to me.”

Carolina smirked. “I’ll remember that.”

A rooster crowed from somewhere in the distance. Her gaze went to the skies.

“We should go,” she said. “Dawn is coming, and the clouds have gone.”

“I’ll escort you home.”