Carolina scoffed. Nena scoffed in return.
After a moment, Nena said, “I think you forget sometimes that he was my abuelo, too.”
This gave Carolina pause.
“Everyone is hurting, Carolina. Even your father. But is sneaking out to prove you’re some warrior worth risking your life?”
Carolina took a deep breath. “I know you think I’m mad for wanting to stalk vampiros.” She eyed her cousin. Waited for Nena to deny it, but in true Nena fashion, she pursed her lips and nodded. A small laugh escaped Carolina. “But Abuelo trained me well, Nena. I can shoot and ride better than any of my brothers. Yet, because I am the daughter of Luis Fuentes, I must sit quietly and look pretty.”
“There is nothing wrong with looking pretty,” Nena said.
“I know.” Carolina certainly didn’t mind when people complimented her appearance. She quite liked her high cheekbones and arching brows and the way her lips curved into a pout. But she didn’t want to just be some person’s dutiful wife. She wished for the wind to run through her hair. She wished for sedientos to see her and retreat in fear.
“You want to be beautiful and have dirt under your nails,” Nena offered.
“I suppose I do.”
“Then I shall get my hands dirty too. Unfortunately.” She said that last part under her breath.
“You should go back, Nena. You’ve never wanted to fight.” Carolina had asked Nena to join her with Abuelo once. Nena had laughed in her face and went back to her puzzle. “This will be dangerous, and you don’t know how to wield a weapon.”
“Then what is this?” Nena reached into the bag strapped to her horse’s saddle. She pulled out a cast-iron pan.
Carolina sighed. “Thatis what you brought? Not any of the dozens of sharp knives in the kitchen?”
“This thing is heavy. I’ll hit the monster. You stab it through. Piece of cake.”
Carolina had half a mind to turn around and go home. She shouldn’t have let Nena come. The forest wasn’t a safe place for her. Nena hadn’t exactly given her a choice, though. She threatened to tell their nanny the second Carolina left without her. A dirty threat. Something Carolina most certainly would have done if the roles were reversed. And if she wanted to bring back her kill and present it at the fiesta to show everyone what she had done, she might not be able to do it on her own.
“All right,” she said. “Let’s go. Stay right behind me.”
Carolina slipped off her horse just outside the woods the sedientos always came from. She wanted to slither about like the monsters she’d come to slay, and it would be much easier on foot. She tied her stallion, Guapo, to a boulder and helped Nena do the same with her mare, Luna. Carolina adjusted her belt ladenwith her reata and daggers. She’d also stolen a machete from the barn. The time had come to prove her worth as a Fuentes and as a fighter.
She shoved a thorny branch out of her way and entered the woods. A dankness clung to the air. The branches above stretched like skeletal fingers, blocking out the moonlight. Even the vegetation felt menacing. She understood why, locally, the forest had been named Boca de la Muerte—Death’s Mouth. It was like a flytrap. Everything within the woods seemed as lethal as the next. And with sunlight unable to seep in during the day, it was no wonder vampiros considered this place to be home.
She pulled the machete from its place on her hip and offered it to Nena. Her cousin shook her head and raised her pan. Carolina clamped her lips shut to hold back her laugh. Nena had a way of making her giggle during the worst of times. Whenever Carolina got in trouble, which was often, she could never risk meeting Nena’s eyes. The last time she had, Carolina burst into a fit of hysterics, incensing her papá. Carolina had been forced to pull weeds and dried-up leaves from Mamá’s garden until the entire plot was clean. Her back ached for days and Nena didn’t even come outside to help. In fact, she made faces at Carolina from their bedroom window. The wretch.
The girls wove deeper into the trees. Taking slow, methodical steps forward, Carolina felt before her with her free hand. Her fingers slid against rough bark and thorny brush. Her boots treaded on a bed of pine needles until they came upon hardpacked earth.
“I’ve found a game trail,” she whispered. All sorts of animals used it to get to the creek just east of where she stood.
“What’s that?” Nena asked quietly. She pointed at something dangling from a branch ahead.
Carolina plucked it off and rubbed her thumb against what appeared to be a bit of torn cloth.
Nena grabbed the scrap of fabric and sniffed. “It smells like the citrus soap the merchants bring in from the ciudades. Saints, I can’t wait to marry so I can travel all about Abundancia. I’ll go to every dress shop I see.”
“Why would this be here?” Carolina whispered to herself, ignoring her cousin. “And more importantly, why is the smell so fresh?” Her brow furrowed. “Perhaps it’s from a bandito. Or…what if this fabric belongs to a vampiro’s next meal? Have we had any traders come to town this week? A member of their party could have gone missing.”
Nena shook her head. “They aren’t expected to arrive for a few more days.”
A muffled cry sounded through the brush ahead. Both girls stared at each other, mouths agape.
“What do we do?” Nena whispered.
“Someone’s life is most likely in danger. Let’s go.”
She slipped the cloth and machete into her belt holster and ran up the path as fast as she could. Carolina kept her ears perked, her eyes wide.
