His intestines grumbled, desperate for blood. If he didn’t feed soon, he might lose whatever control he had.
Everything was beginning to feel like the constant thrusting of penknives into him. Breathing. Walking. Thinking.
Fernanda truly observed him for the first time since she had entered his quarters. “You’re going blue around the lips.”
Consuming one’s life force kept a sediento looking nearly identical to how they were before being turned. Not consuming made them appear as if they were living corpses. Their organs started failing. Their skin went ashen. Their bodies quite literally began feeding on themselves. But he’d rather shrivel into a worm than feed off another human.
“You need nourishment, brother. I’m sorry the butcher hasn’t provided what we asked of him yet.”
Lalo dropped his gaze to the floor, the shame and wretchedness of that truth overwhelming him.
“What will you do?” Fernanda asked.
“About finding clues on how to turn myself back into a human before it’s too late?”
“No, you blockhead. About feeding. There will be nothing to turn back into if you don’t eat.”
Dread seeped into Lalo’s body. He sighed heavily and turned away from his book.
“I will have to hunt down a deer or something.” A small rabbit wouldn’t suffice.
His life in the city had never given him cause to hunt. Even when the other menfolk went on holiday in the country, hepreferred to stay back and read or review his father’s business ledgers. He didn’t even know how to properly ride a horse. Sure, he could dress the part well enough, but he never had the need to go faster than an unconcerned trot.
“Do you want company?” Fernanda asked.
“I’d rather hate myself in private, thank you very much.”
Fernanda’s gaze held his, and he hated the pity he read there. She’d give him that look whenever he declined an invitation to a ball or charity event. As if staying away from social activities because he didn’t like them was the very sorriest of things. At least now her sympathetic glances had a good reason behind them, he supposed.
“The sun is setting,” she said. “You should probably go.”
He rose from his chair, grabbed his cloak, and pulled the hood over his head. “No need to wait up for me, sister. I have no idea how long I will be.”
He was incredibly fast, due to the power of Tecuani thrumming inside him. And his senses were extravagantly heightened. But that didn’t guarantee a kill. Half the time, he simply couldn’t force himself to take the life of whatever creature he had caught. He’d eaten meat all his life but that didn’t mean he wanted to be the one doing the butchering.
“Oh, I’m sure I’ll be up,” Fernanda said, suddenly smiling. “I’m going to go back in town tomorrow to make friends. Perhaps they can help us find more clues about this Alma woman you mentioned. If she truly is the first victim on record in Abundancia, surely these people should know something about her. I must pick out the perfect dress to wear for such an occasion. Do you think the young people here know the latest fashions?”
His fingers shook as he fastened the button on his cloak. “I’m certain they do.”
“That is good at least.” Fernanda stood. “Best of luck, brother.”
Lalo grunted and watched his sister flutter away. He was glad Fernanda was here to help him. She really was a sociable sort, more than he’d ever been. But would they be safe here? Even so far from the city they fled. If he made the expedition to Del Oro, Maricela certainly could.
He shuddered before stuffing that thought away. Best to worry over one thing at a time. At present Lalo’s insides were churning. He had to find some animal and feed, or he’d never have a chance to turn himself back like he so desperately wished he could.
Sighing, he left his room and started down the hallway. He could only pray he wouldn’t get sick while feeding and ruin his clean boots. Again.
CHAPTER 4
Carolina
When the house had finallygone quiet and her cousin Nena was tucked deep into her blankets snoring gently, Carolina slinked out of her bed and crept to the loose floorboard under her vanity. She snuck a glance at her door, but it was shut; only the soft glow of the sconces could be seen from underneath. Biting her lip, she dug her nails into the panel and pried a slat of wood back.
There, in the dust and darkness, was the clothing she often used when training with her abuelo. A loose black blouse, thick gloves, and—she smirked—pants. She grabbed the obsidian throwing daggers she used in practice and set them beside her. The black stone was the only thing besides wood taken from the roots of trees that could make a death blow because of its natural wards against evil. Then she pulled out the reata Abuelo had given her and placed it on her lap. She’d found it in the trash binafter her papá had taken it away. Carolina rubbed her thumb over the braided strips of leather.
“I miss you, Abuelito,” she whispered. “You were the only one to ever truly believe in me. I won’t let your death be in vain.” Carolina had not forgotten her promise to her grandfather the night he was slain. She’d never let her family hurt like that again. She would kill every sediento she could. And she’d do it with or without her papá’s approval.
She took the garments and weapons and slid the floorboard back in place.
