Lalo shook his head. “I think what Carolina meant was—”
“Enough.” Rafa began to roll up his sleeves. “We will settle this like men.”
From the journal of Jonathan Monroe of Santemala
June 6, 1709
Bloodlust is a real and visceral thing.
I watched my daughter break through the bindings the priests assured us would hold her. But the chains of iron were no match for her strength.
Tecuani is not weakened by iron, I told them. Sunlight, obsidian, tree roots, water from a flowing source. Those were what we needed. The only thing that kept her from tearing into us all was a string of wooden beads carved from oak root.
The priests say there is only one thing to be done. Pierce her heart to sever the ties between our world and Tecuani’s. But I cannot sentence my little girl to a final death. What father could? I will remain hopeful. Surely, there must be a way to control her thirst.
CHAPTER 11
Lalo
Lalo followed behind the processionof guests, his boots dragging in the dirt, a mix of horror and confusion twisting deep inside his gut. Carolina’s father and that brutish man whoactuallywanted to call himself her fiancé were leading the charge. Hushed gossip from the crowd filled Lalo’s ears. People were beginning to take bets. If he were a gambling man, which he most assuredly was not, he would say the odds weren’t in his favor.
He eyed Carolina, who stomped up the path beside him. Beautiful as the moon above. Beautiful yet vicious as a lioness, more like.
“This is your fault,” he grumbled.
She glowered at him with a vehemence so palpable, he could feel the sting of hatred on his cheeks. “If you would have let me kill you, we wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place.”
“Perhaps if you were better with a blade, we wouldn’t even behaving this conversation. Alas, here we are.” He gestured toward the growing throng.
“Lower your voice, fiend.”
“Why should I be the one to die because you deem it so?”
“You exist. That is reason enough. I know about your kind. Murderers, the lot of you.”
He laughed bitterly. “Takes one to know one, I suppose.”
“What are you talking about?”
“What happens to all the cattle I see in the valley? Hmm? Do you not take their lives? Is it not the very same concept as what I’ve done?”
They wove up a hill to a patch of earth that was flattened out and filled with sand.A fútbol court?How ridiculous. This was to be where he would defend his and the hunter’s honor? He didn’t even like sports.
“It is not the same,” she whispered. “And you know it. Your kind devours souls. You need human blood to survive. You crave it. You won’t be able to resist for long, and when you give in, you’ll enjoy sucking people dry.”
“How little you understand. A pity I won’t be around to educate you on the finer details of what it is to be un vampiro. Facts you should probably know, seeing as you traipse around as some masked vigilante at night.”
“Quiet,” she snapped. Her papá glanced over his shoulder at them. Slipping her arm into the crook of Lalo’s elbow, she gave her father a defiant grin. “He thinks he can rule my life,” she said through her teeth. “He is wrong.”
“What a selfish thing to worry over at this moment.Mylife is the one at stake here.”
“You’ll be fine. These bullets are made of lead. Even if one pierces your heart, you should survive.”
He gulped.
“Have you never been in a duel before?” she asked.
“Señorita, I’ve never shot a gun in my life.”
