A thunderous crash came from deep in the woods. Trees snapped. Branches fell like boulders to the ground. The horses whinnied and reared back in fright.
“Arms ready!” Papá ordered. He released her and stepped back, pulling out his prized double-barrel shotgun. “Get behind me, Carolina.”
Her family drew their swords.
“Let me fight with you, Apá.”
“I said, get behind me!”
She wanted to argue but now wasn’t the time. And why should she anyway? Carolina knew what she could do. She didn’t have to prove her worth to him anymore.
The reata Abuelo gave her had been lost at some point during their flight from the chupasangres, but the rope was just an item, something;she had a lifetime of memories with him to last her through. But she remembered what he had said to her just before she lost him.“The kind of weapon doesn’t bring us triumph, Lina. The ferocity of the person who wields it does. Believing in yourself and what you are capable of is sometimes enough on its own.”
He had been right.
She was a fighter. And she would not fail. Regardless of what her papá thought.
Carolina still had Alma’s dagger in her grasp. She held it before her, even though her neck and shoulder screamed with fire.
A dozen figures burst through the brush. Vampiros dressed in clothing from bygone times charged toward Carolina and her family with their fangs and claws bared. The sound of their snarling hisses filled her ears and chilled her to the bone.
“This is for Maricela!” one of them roared.
The obsidian blades crafted by the Fuentes family clashed with the monsters who thirsted for their blood. They sliced and fought and kicked, killing and cutting down anything that stood before them. Bullets rang out. Screams ripped through the skies.
One of the sedientos raced for Carolina’s papá, who was too busy fighting off two other vampiros to notice. She bolted forward, pumping her arms with all her might. She didn’t dare throw the lover’s blade; she didn’t want to risk losing it. So she dove after the beast and tackled it at the knees.
Claws raked over her skin. She screamed, but she didn’t dare let go.
A gun went off, and the vampiro’s body slackened.
Papá’s face came into view. His skin was drained of its color, sweat dripped down his temples. “You saved me,” he said, his voice hardly audible over the chaos.
“Of course I did. You’re my father.”
He reached down, pulled her up.
He stared at the body. “If you hadn’t been there, this beast would have taken me to the ground.” His eyes flicked to her. “I…I am sorry, mija. I…”
Carolina shook her head. She didn’t need her papá’s apologies. What she deserved was his respect.
“More are coming!” Tío Vicente yelled.
“We fight together,” she said. Papá blinked, then nodded. Heunsheathed his short sword and offered it to her. Carolina grasped it with a smile.
She and Papá turned back-to-back. They held their weapons ready, protecting one another in battle for the first time. This had been the very thing she’d always wanted but she’d never expected it to be like this. She’d never expected to be so afraid, so tired, so damn worried for the soul of the boy she loved.
An angry snarl reverberated through the trees. One of her cousins bellowed before his voice cut off altogether.
“Martín!” her tío Malaquías roared.
Another cousin cried out on the opposite side of her. He fell to his knees, holding his stomach.
“What is it?” Papá yelled. “Do you see anything?”
“No.” Whatever it was, it wove in and out of the forest with inhuman speed.
Dread took hold of Carolina.
