The blood-red eyes of the beast turned a dull brown. For a second, for a fraction of a moment, Carolina could swear she saw something human within. Sorrow. Relief. Regret. But then it fell to the earth flat on its face.
She grinned. She’d killed her very first sediento.
“I did it!” Carolina turned to see her grandfather’s smiling face.
“Well done, Lina,” he said.
Carolina’s eyes widened. She screamed in horror as the last vampiro jumped onto Abuelo’s back. Before she could gather her thoughts, before she could even act, the sediento sank its fangs deep into her abuelo’s neck.
“No!” Carolina wailed.
Abuelo fell to his knees, his eyes rolling back into his head as the monster clamped down harder.
Carolina ran toward them. She thrashed her rapier over the monster’s face. The vampiro jerked away from Abuelo with a bone-chilling hiss, tearing loose muscles and veins. She lungedforward and pierced the beast with her blade. A gargled cry escaped its gray lips before the sediento tumbled away.
Abuelo crumpled. Carolina slid in the dirt and caught him before his head hit the ground. His weight on her injured arms was too much, and she cradled him in her lap.
“Lina,” he whispered, then coughed. “I…”
“Shh,” she whispered, her shaking hand trying to stanch the heavy flow of blood. Her chin quivered. Hot tears pooled in her eyes.
“I’m sorry, Abuelito.” Carolina tried to hold back her sobs. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” He coughed. “You had your first kill. And you are safe. That is what matters.”
“No.Youare what matters.”
Abuelo groaned as he reached for something. “You must practice every day, Lina.” He brought the reata, the reason they were outside, to his chest. “Show your papá what a great fighter you are.”
Carolina shook her head. “Wewill show him, Abuelito. We will show him together.”
Black dots filled Carolina’s vision. Her fingers tingled with pinpricks like they’d fallen asleep. She had lost so much of her own blood. She could feel it caking over her skin, her nightdress. Her blood had spurred the other vampiros into a frenzy. Her mistake had brought them here in droves. She should have been better aware of her surroundings. She should have seen Lorenzo coming. No, not Lorenzo. She wouldn’t let that thing have her cousin’s name.
“Father!” Carolina’s papá roared. “Father, no!”
Papá’s large frame collapsed beside her. His dark eyes flicked from Carolina to his father, to Carolina again.
“Are you…” His voice hitched.
“I’m fine.” Her chin wobbled as she moved her hand to show her grandfather’s gaping wound. “But he isn’t.”
Papá dropped his head. “Dammit,” he whispered.
Wails of sorrow echoed around Carolina. Cries for her abuelo, Don José Miguel, rang through the growing dawn.
“What can we do, Apá?” Carolina asked her father. “Is there no way to save him?”
But she already knew the answer. Abuelo had lost too much blood. There was no way to mend the torn veins and flesh.
“You should not have been here!” Papá snapped. “What were you doing outside at this hour, Carolina?”
“I…” What right did he have to be furious with her? He had never believed in her abilities to fight, to hunt. But look what she had done. She’d killed a sediento. Two, actually. Abuelo believed in her. He was the only person that ever did. And now he was dying.
Abuelo’s fingers wrapped around Carolina’s wrist. “This isn’t your fault.”
“No,” Papá whispered. He snatched the reata from Abuelo’s chest and clenched it in his grasp. “It is yours, Father. May you find peace in the Land of the Dead knowing my Carolina might have joined you this day.”
Papá pushed from the ground and shoved through their weeping family.
