Page 27

CHAPTER 27

Lalo

The scent of rosewater hit him first. Then came the soft smells of vanilla, lavender, leather, and horsehair, a special sort of aroma that belonged only to her. He couldn’t help but breathe deeper.

Antonina leaned into her and whispered into her ear. She covered her hand to conceal what she was saying, but Lalo heard her clearly.

“Looks like he’s prepared for a winter storm,” she said.

Carolina snorted. “The poor man’s face is growing redder by the second.”

The two giggled.

Stars, she was beautiful. He’d only ever truly seen her at night or when clouds covered the skies. But here, with the light of day highlighting her rosy cheeks, she was like a goddess walking among them.

“You’re staring,” Fernanda whispered.

Lalo’s head snapped toward his sister. “I am not.” He absolutely had been. But sometimes such things could not be helped. Carolina was like a solar eclipse.

Carolina descended the stairs and offered a quick bow. “Lalo, Fernanda, to what do we owe the pleasure?”

Carolina’s mother was the one to answer. “The Montézes will be staying with us for the time being. It seems the beast who killed our men traveled too close to their home for anyone’s liking.”

“I see.” Carolina nodded.

“Lalo?” Carolina’s mother eyed his clothing. “Would you like Luz Elena to take your coat?” She gestured toward an older woman with pearly white braids.

Saints, yes, he would. He’d soon be drowning in his own sweat because of the many layers he bore, but he couldn’t risk his skin coming in contact with any of the dozens of windows glaring down at him throughout the sprawling casa. Luckily, his perspiration seemed to be somewhat normal, unlike the inky tears he’d shed in the cemetery.

“Actually, I’m not feeling my best. My mother always told me to sweat out the sickness. Hence, this absurd outfit,” he said, chuckling and gesturing to himself. “May I excuse myself to whatever room I will be staying in?”

“You poor thing.” Se?ora Fuentes’s hand went to the top of her chest, just under her collarbone. A tiny vein throbbed at the side of her neck. His mouth watered. His thirst dug into his intestines and twisted them in knots. Suddenly, all the scents in the room were becoming overwhelming. The heartbeats, the blood, their essences—they were practically begging to be devoured.

Se?ora Fuentes turned to the woman by her side. “Luz Elena, please escort Lalo to Tía Morena’s old room at once.”

“I’ll do it!” Carolina blurted out.

Antonina snickered.

Se?ora Fuentes quirked an eyebrow. “Mija, I don’t think that is appropriate.”

“Papá went out of his way to ensure Lalo and Fernanda were safe, which means he must care about their safety. That also means he must approve of Lalo. And if that is the case, are we not practically betrothed?”

Se?ora Fuentes didn’t seem convinced. Lalo wished she would be, and soon. His pulse thumped hard against his skull. He was so thirsty and hot. If he didn’t get out of this coat and have some of the blood Fernanda packed in his bag, he might lose control.

Fernanda, ever astute, spoke up. “Se?ora Fuentes, I noticed a glorious painting in the ballroom the last time we were here. I’ve been dying to ask you about the piece ever since.”

Se?ora Fuentes’s light brown face lit from within. “Would you believe me if I said I painted it?”

Fernanda gasped. “You are kidding?”

“You must show her, tía,” Antonina chimed in. “You really are so talented.”

“This is why you are my favorite niece,” Se?ora Fuentes said with a warm smile.

Antonina laughed as she took her tía’s and Fernanda’s arms. “Let’s bring her to your art room.”

“Yes, please do!” Fernanda said.

As the others left, trailing behind the chatting women, Carolina gestured toward the western wing of the casa. “This way, Lalo.”

Luz Elena shuffled after them.

“It’s okay, Luz,” Carolina said in that impatient but loving way one has with their nanny. Not that he was an expert on such manners; they’d had a sitter for only six months growing up. She had quit, saying Lalo was too picky about his food and Fernanda was a terror. He couldn’t blame the nanny on the latter point—Fernanda had been a little devil. Still was. Lalo, however, had been a perfectly pleasant child, so he didn’t know why she had complained about him.

Luz Elena shook her head. “Being alone together isn’t proper.”

Carolina slithered her arm around Lalo’s elbow. He jolted at her sudden touch. And his appetite tripled in its ravenousness. His free hand clenched into a fist.

Think of taxes, he said to himself. Think of math equations. Of anything but Carolina touching you.

“I may walk unaccompanied with my fiancé,” Carolina said.

The vieja raised her chin. “The betrothal is not official.”

Lalo tried to pull free—Carolina’s nearness was too much—but she gripped him harder, tugging him even closer to her soft body. The scent of her made him want to do the most inappropriate things. Like run his fingers through her dark hair. Like sink his teeth into her.

What is wrong with you? he scorned himself. She was a sediento killer, one that would happily stake his heart at this very moment if she didn’t need him.

“Our engagement is certainly happening,” Carolina said to Luz Elena. “So I may escort my husband-to-be unaccompanied.”

Carolina hauled Lalo, not so gently, forward before Luz Elena could argue further. They moved as one in silence, walking at a brisk pace up the long hallway filled with portraits of people he could only assume were relatives. The large Fuentes familia had the same stern yet arrogant air about them. There was no mistaking them to be part of the same bloodline.

Was Alma among the gallery? Vidal?

Carolina pressed tighter against Lalo and whispered, “Is she still watching?”

Lalo forced a glance over his shoulder. The nanny was clutching a beaded necklace and mouthing something, observing him intently. “She is. I believe she’s praying.”

Carolina snorted. “Probably for your soul. She’s a pious one.”

“I’d like that actually,” he said quietly.

He meant it in jest, but the truth was, he could use someone to pray to the gods on his behalf. He had slayed those people at Maricela’s seedy cantina in Los Campos. Regardless of their own sins, how could he ever expect to enter the gates of el Cielo after something like that? Was there mercy for someone whose hands were stained with blood? Did his remorse make up for any of it? Could his soul be saved by slaying one last person, Vidal?

Their eyes met again. She had the longest lashes and loveliest lips. How could an individual be so perfectly beautiful? And her scent was so enticing. It burrowed into his very core. His stomach rumbled ferociously.

“You’re hungry,” she said.

Lalo scowled at the tile beneath his boots. “I’m always hungry.”

“How do you control it? The bloodlust.”

“I try to think of anything else in the world. Anything at all. Taxes. Ledgers. Books. But mostly I remember what it felt like to take a person’s life.”

She hadn’t let go of him, despite moving through the hallway with no one but her ancestors watching them from above. What would they think of their great-granddaughter in the arms of a monster?

“That is why we must find Vidal,” he said. “I can’t live like this much longer—always thirsty, constantly trying to not give in—and I need to ensure my sister’s safety.”

Carolina squeezed his bicep and offered a kind smile. “You are a good brother, Lalo.”

Hot emotion clogged his throat. He hadn’t always been the most understanding or patient of siblings, but there wasn’t a day that went by where he didn’t have Fernanda’s well-being in mind. He cared for his little sister deeply, and it was almost healing to hear that Carolina took notice. If things went south and he gave into the thirst, there would at least be one person to remind Fernanda that she was loved by her brother.

They walked in silence until they came to a door. Carolina slipped her fingers from his elbow. With her touch gone, Lalo let loose the breath he’d been holding. He couldn’t decide if he liked this kind side of Carolina. It made him feel things. Confusing things. At least when she was trying to murder him, he knew where he stood with her. But now, when they touched, he swore it was like the world around him was expanding and crashing in all at once.

Her back was to him as she opened the door. He used that time to rub his gloved hands across his face.

“Wait here,” she said.

She rushed into the room and drew the shutters hanging on either side of the windows shut. Even in the low light, Lalo could see that every square inch of the space was plastered in gaudy furnishings.

“Better?” she asked.

“Entirely.”

“Good.” She smiled. “Now you can take off that ridiculous outfit.”

“You do not like my fashion choices?” He gestured toward himself. The scarf, the oversize coat, the hat.

She snorted. “Not in the slightest.”

“It was the best I could do on such short notice.”

She crossed her arms. “What did my papá say to get you here?”

“It was my idea. I thought it safer and…” And you are here. “It will make our search easier, don’t you think?”

She nodded.

Carolina plopped onto the bed. The one he was going to be resting on at some point. But how could he with her scent now infused into the blankets?

He grabbed the wooden chair that was tucked into a desk and motioned to it. “Do you mind?”

Her brows raised. “Is there a problem?”

“I just…I don’t need…”

“Am I making you uncomfortable, Lalo?”

“I don’t like dirt on my things.”

She huffed. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a real stick in the mud?”

“Se?orita, that phrase makes no sense to me, so I truly don’t care.”

“You’ve been told that too many times to count, huh?” She rolled her eyes but stood. He held his breath as she swept past him and sat like the elegant lady the mayor’s daughter should be.

“Happy?” she asked.

“As one can be in this type of situation.”

Carolina paused. “Were you ever happy, Lalo? I mean, truly happy. Dancing-and-laughing-under-the-stars happy?”

“Have I given you the impression that either of those things would bring me joy?”

A sly smile slid over her face.

“Why are you grinning like that?” he asked.

“I was thinking about the sort of dance partner you would be.”

“That is something you will never see from me, se?orita.” But what would having her in his arms and moving as one feel like?

Stay focused, he thought, seething.

They needed to figure out where the original sediento might be, not speak about dancing and happiness.

“Is there a log that lists the attacks on el pueblo?” he asked.

“I believe my papá keeps a record. It would be in our library.”

“We should go there,” he said. “Perhaps we might be able to track Vidal’s whereabouts that way. If we can somehow find a pattern to these attacks—”

“They’re completely random. The lone commonality is that they happen within the forest and the valley. That is it.”

“Not Devil’s Spine?” he asked. His thoughts tumbled back to the day he had been forced to drink Maricela’s blood. The southernmost peak of Basilio’s Point was the one clear detail from her life he could glean from her memories. How could he not take notice of a rock formation with such strange ridges?

“Well, I’m sure they do, but how would we know? It is a few days’ hard ride from here. If there was an attack, who would survive to tell us?”

“Do you know anyone who has ever ventured to the mountains?”

Carolina pursed her lips as she thought.

Lalo dragged his attention away. He did not need to think about her mouth at this moment. Kneeling, Lalo clicked his trunk open and reached for the flask hidden beneath his things.

He twisted the cap off the flask and brought it to his lips but paused when he saw her watching.

“Do you mind?” he said. “This isn’t a pleasant experience for me, and I’d like some privacy.”

With a sigh of exasperation, she shifted in her seat until her back was to him.

“What happens when we do find Vidal?” she asked over her shoulder. “Do you expect us to so easily go to his hidden lair and strike down a centuries-old vampiro?”

“Actually, yes…after we find the tool used to create him.”

Lalo took a deep swig. The cold boar’s blood slid in gelatinous chunks down his throat. He gagged, nearly spit everything up, then forced himself to swallow.

“You truly hate the taste of blood,” she said.

“Unequivocally so.”

The cramps plaguing his stomach eased at once, but he would never be as strong as he had been after that night in the cantina.

He took another long drink then closed the cap. She must have found him so disgusting at that moment. He exhaled and dropped his chin to his chest.

Hands that were both callused and soft brushed over his.

“Lalo,” Carolina said gently. She was on the floor beside him. So close, her skirts brushed against him. “Lalo, look at me,” Carolina ordered.

Slowly, painfully, he did. Saints, why did this girl have to be sobefuddling?

“This partnership will not work if we aren’t honest with one another,” she said. “May I be honest with you now?”

His pulse raced as she eased closer to him.

He nodded.

Carolina smirked. “You look awful.”

Lalo balked. “I beg your pardon?”

“And you may have learned to punch and fight, but you cannot wield a weapon for shit.”

Lalo frowned but a smile tugged at his lips. “You mock me?”

She giggled. “I’m sorry. Perhaps that was rude. But I needed to pull you from whatever sorrowful place your mind was headed. There is no more time for wallowing. How can we face the ultimate evil if you aren’t completely ready to defend yourself?”

“I…” Lalo’s throat bobbed. “I hadn’t exactly thought of that.”

“Well, you must. I know your brain will get you the answers you need. But what about the rest? Vidal will not be easy to kill.” A gasp escaped her. “A brilliant idea just came to me.”

He chuckled. “You are humble as ever.”

“You’re right. I shouldn’t undervalue myself. My idea is beyond brilliant.” She beamed then lugged him up. “Come. If we are going to kill my great-great-great-grandfather, you are going to need to at least know the very basics of wielding a blade.”

Carolina snatched the sombrero hanging on the bedpost and shoved it on top of his head.

“Should I be afraid?” he asked in earnest.

She patted his hand and tugged him toward the door. “Onlyslightly.”