The door opened, and the two men stepped in.
“I have been thinking of that birria your wife cooked us last time we visited,” the other man said. “I’ve not had anything so tasty in all my travels.”
“Nor will you ever. But wait until you try the carnitas my men are making now.”
Lalo clamped his eyes shut as Señor Fuentes drew closer. What would he say if he was caught?
I sleepwalk.And steal people’s property during that time? No, that wouldn’t do.
I came in here to read and saw this book on the floor.And—what? Tripped under the desk? Pathetic.
“Here it is,” Señor Fuentes said. Lalo heard a paper snap. “The list of rates for our heifers and steers.”
The room grew quiet.They must be some rates.
“How about we discuss this over some cervezas. Do you drink, Jocobo?” el señor asked.
“I may start after seeing this document.”
A roar of laughter came from Señor Fuentes. “Come, I had some mezcal put on the ice you brought in.”
The men’s voices slowly grew muted as they walked away. Lalo let out a deep breath and slumped. That had been far too close. Slowly, he eased himself out from under the desk. He opened the book and a folded piece of parchment slipped to the ground. He knelt, grabbed it, and opened the paper, flattening it on top of the desk. His eyes grew wide. The Fuentes family tree had been drawn in black ink and seemed to go back four or five generations. But that wasn’t what had snatched the air out of his lungs. It was the tinyx’s next to so many of their names.
CHAPTER 30
Carolina
Something Lalo had said toher earlier nibbled at her thoughts as she swept the dusty barn clean in preparation for the party that evening.
He’d asked about Devil’s Spine.
Her cousin Lorenzo had always been obsessed with the mountain peak. He wanted to be a healer when he grew up and had thought there might be some flowers and herbs within the woods there that might have beneficial properties. When she saw Lorenzo again the night Abuelo was killed, he had appeared emaciated. His legs and feet were shredded, as if he’d walked through brambles and harsh terrain. Could it have been he was trying to get home after being turned somewhere far off?
Carolina studied her mamá, who was sitting on a cushioned chair outside the barn doors, giving orders to anyone who didn’t already have a task to complete. With so much commotion,surely Mamá wouldn’t notice if Carolina slipped away for a moment or two. She swept the broom back and forth, taking slow steps toward the opposite end of the barn. And when Mamá turned her head to yell at the twins, Carolina made her escape.
Tía Sofia was Lorenzo’s mother and Abuelo’s youngest sister. She and her husband, Javier, lived in one of the casitas within the hacienda. Before Lorenzo disappeared, the home was always full of laughter and storytelling. Carolina hadn’t had the heart to visit her aunt, not since she and her abuelo had been the ones to cut him down. But now she had no choice.
If Lorenzo had in fact headed toward Devil’s Spine, itcouldmean he’d been turned in that area. Whichcouldmean Vidal’s lair was there. That idea was a long shot, but so was a desperate sediento traveling far north searching for a way to reverse an ancient curse and coming upon a horde of vampiro slayers.
Carolina froze when she spotted Tía Sofia sitting on a small bench near a bubbling fountain. Her aunt seemed so much smaller now. As if the sorrow of loss had drained away her very essence. She had a blanket around her shoulders even though the temperature was especially warm for autumn.
Gulping, Carolina forced herself forward.
“Tía Sofia,” she said softly.
Her aunt’s gray eyes met hers. Carolina’s body tensed. Was her tía going to scream at her? Was she going to tell her Abuelo’s death was her fault? Was she going to somehow blame her for Lorenzo’s death too?
“Carolina,” Tía Sofia whispered. She offered a sad smile and patted the bench beside her.
Gingerly, Carolina took a seat. She frowned. When had Tía’s thick black hair gone silver?
“I am sorry I have not come to speak with you since that terrible night, mija,” her tía said.
Carolina’s brows raised in surprise. “You lost your brother and your son. It is I who should be sorry for not coming to you sooner.”
“I suppose the sorrow was too raw for the both of us. I will never again judge a person for how they mourn their loved ones.”
“Nor shall I,” Carolina agreed. And that was true. Whatever one did to survive unbearable loss, at least during the first initial blow, was exactly what they needed to do.
