Blood and Sand (36 page)

Carwyn said, “So, you’re no longer under Ernesto’s aegis.”

“I’m not.” And it still stung. Just a little.
 

“If you were…” The priest stared straight ahead at the passing lights. “How would you handle this situation? If you were still the head of security in Los Angeles—had all his resources—how would you handle this?”

“I’d take six or seven of my best people, along with three humans, and go down to Mexico. Stake out the hunting grounds and kill them. I’d need at least one earth vampire and preferably one wind.”

“You="18"an>, and gove thought about this more than a bit.”

“Yes.” He’d been thinking about it for days.

“Only seven people?”

“The less the better, in this case. There are too many political implications. We wouldn’t want to alert the Mexican cartel of our movements. My guess is they don’t know what Ivan is doing. We don’t want to start a war, we just want to take care of a problem. I’d go down with the equivalent of a special forces team.”

“Why the humans?”

“Whoever is coming is going to be expecting them. Maybe they’re already mad with bloodlust when they get there—they certainly seemed that way from what I saw—but you still need some humans there. If they don’t catch the scent, they’ll know something is wrong.”

“So you definitely need a few humans,” Carwyn muttered.

“I’d stake out the hunt and remove the drugged women after they’ve been dropped off. Tulio said they left them for an hour. More than enough time to hide them somewhere. That’s only one of the reasons I’d need an earth vampire. After the elixired girls are gone, I’d put my own human security in place, then wait for the ambush. As long as you had the element of surprise, it would work with minimal risk. Not none, of course, no operation is risk free, but it would be manageable.”

“And no one would be the wiser.”

“We’d make a very quiet statement. Everyone would know what had happened, but no one could prove anything. It would be a good show of power on Ernesto’s part—others would know not to cause trouble along his borders—but we wouldn’t make a public statement, so the cartel could ignore it and not be forced to retaliate.”

“That’s a well-thought-out plan.”

Of course it was. “Thank you.”

“Ernesto was foolish to have fired you.”

His heart beat. “I am the one who asked to leave his aegis. He refused to listen to my warnings and…” He glanced over at Carwyn once. The vampire was staring at him intently. “He wanted Natalie. I would not allow it.”

Carwyn said nothing as they took the exit that would lead them to the small church only a few blocks from the lively tourist district. The night was lit up. Humans filled the streets, and music blared from the clubs. A cruise ship must have been in port.
 

The former priest scanned the sidewalks as they drove. Then he said softly, “You must love her very much.”

Baojia stared into the traffic as he thought about what the priest had said.
Love
Natalie?
 

Well… of course he did.

Father Andrade seemed to have been expecting them. The gray-haired priest shook hands with Carwyn and led both vampires back to the kitchen in the small house behind the church. It was a modest home, decorated with pictures of saints and a few children’s drawings. The father was obviously loved by the people he ministered to. He put a kettle of water on to heat and joined them at the scarred table.

“I have been expecting one of you people, but I didn’t know if it would be to help me or kill me.”

Carwyn said, “Why would anyone kill you, Father?”

The priest shrugged. “I see many things I’m not supposed to see. No one pays attention to old men.”

“What have you seen lately?” Baojia asked. “Anything unusual?”

“I’ve seen more girls going than coming,” he said. “G he who askeirls who have disappeared. There’s always some of that—most of them go back to their families or move along when they realize the city isn’t all they want—but there’s more now. More missing girls. And some of the regular girls… the ones who know about your sort, they look worried.”

He was hiding something. The old man was telling them part of the story, but not all. Carwyn must have sensed it, too.

“Father Andrade, I hope you know that many of our kind have no quarrel with you or your work. In fact, Arturo Leon gave me your name if I ever needed help in this area.”

Baojia didn’t recognize the name, but Father Andrade must have, because the priest’s face suddenly relaxed and his shoulders slumped.
 

“I have no idea what do to for her,” he said. “She came to me months ago. Begged me not to take her to the hospital. She says it won’t help anyway. I’ve called doctors to the house. Prayed for guidance…”

Baojia leaned forward. “Who? Who are you talking about?”

Father Andrade said, “Constantina Rosales. Ivan’s former mistress.”

Baojia stopped breathing. He’d thought the man harbored some affection for the human. He’d been wrong.

 
Where’s Constantina?

Some ridiculous illness. Not sure. You know how they complain.

Constantina wasn’t sick. Ivan had given his own mistress the Elixir.

“Where is she?”

She was lying on a narrow bed in the basement. No cords or monitors were hooked up to her, though she obviously needed to be in a hospital. The stunning woman who had dazzled all of Ivan’s associates lay wasting away, the formerly lush curves of her body nowhere in evidence.

“Constantina,” Baojia said softly, kneeling down next to her as her eyes flickered open. “Do you remember me?”

“Ernesto’s man, Baojia.” She smiled weakly and put a hand up to his lips. He could smell the sickness radiating off her skin. “All the girls loved having you visit. I heard rumors about that mouth for years. Sorry you have to see me like this.”

“What happened? Was this Ivan?”

Her eyes rolled back and her body arched in pain for a moment. Father Andrade knelt beside her, placing a tablet between her lips and offering her a sip of water. “She goes in and out. The doctor who came said it looks like she is starving to death, but even a feeding tube didn’t help her. We tried.”

Her blood held none of the sweetness of the other girls. It smelled of fermented fruit baked too long in the sun, pungent and on the way to sour. “Constantina, did Ivan give you a formula? An elixir of some kind?”

“The Elixir of Life…,” she whispered. “He didn’t drink from me after that, even though I could tell he wanted to. He stayed away. Said it was too soon. If it worked, he would be able to keep me for much longer.” Her smile was bitter. “I was aging. He couldn’t have a wrinkled mistress to introduce to his guests. Ivan was too proud for that.”

“Who gave him the Elixir, Constantina?”

She gave a weak shrug. “I don’t know. I always thought I would die very quickly or all alone. Even if I survived him, he’d shove me off somewhere when I became too old.” The thin woman sighed. “And I had peace about it. I loved him. Stupid, I know. But I did. And I enjoyed the power and attention I had, for a time.” She reached for Father Andrade’s hand. AndradehanI hBut the wages of sin are death, aren’t they, Father?”

“Please, Constantina.” The old man had tears in his eyes. “Let me take you to the hospital. Let me find you proper care, my dear. You are too young to waste away like this.”

“It won’t help. I could tell by the look on his face when I first started to lose weight.” She looked straight into Baojia’s eyes. “He knew. Ivan knew what was happening.”

“Who else did he give it to?” he asked.
 

“Some of the waitresses. And he told some of his men—not the good ones, the stupid ones. Told them to drink from the girls. They became… addicted. Those girls were the most popular at the club. All the men wanted to drink from them. Ivan let many of them, but not all. That’s when I knew that it was a poison for your kind, too. Then the girls started disappearing, but no one noticed at first. There were always more girls. I noticed the ones who had taken the same drug I had disappeared after only a few months. More showed up in their place. They would pick a few and give them the drink.”

“New girls?”

“Or annoying ones,” she said with a weak smile.

“How long ago was it?” Baojia was still trying to figure out a timeline. Were the effects immediate? If a girl was taken by Ivan’s people, how long did she have? They had to know how much time they had before another hunt would take place. “How long did it take the waitress’s blood to become affected?”

She frowned. “Only two or three days, I think. So…”

“So if a girl was taken—”

“If they gave her the drug right away, she’d only have to wait a couple of days before she’d become everyone’s favorite drink.” Constantina’s lip curled in disdain. “I was
only
Ivan’s woman. No one else drank from me. These other girls… they fed anyone who asked.
Putanas
. I left around the time the lock showed up on the basement door. He was keeping women down there. I didn’t want to know why. I left.” Her eyes flickered closed. “No one came after me.”

Father Andrade said, “When she came here, I tried to take her to a hospital, but she refused. Constantina, please let me call someone. I beg you.”

Baojia had a feeling that there was nothing the human doctors could do. Carwyn only confirmed it.

“Just make her comfortable, Father.” He sat in a chair next to the woman and brushed a bit of hair from her forehead, looking down on her sadly. “There is nothing the human doctors can do for her. We are still trying to find a cure ourselves.”

She had fallen asleep, and in that rest, Baojia saw a shadow of the beautiful woman who had charmed so many. Had Ivan intended to kill his favorite mistress? Somehow, he doubted it. But the vampire seemed to have no hesitation about using the knowledge he had gained to further his own ambitions. He was not mourning his woman or seeking a cure, he was spreading it for his own benefit, whatever that might be. Perhaps he had truly intended for it to be good, to keep her young and at his side. Perhaps. But he had still used Constantina as a test subject. He hadn’t fed from her, and that told him Ivan knew the drug could be harmful.

“Father Andrade, does she have any family?”

“No one.”

Baojia rose from his knees. The sick woman rested uneasily, her eyes jerking under her lids as she dreamed. Baojia backed out of the room, certain he would not see her alive again. They climbed the stairs and took their leave of the priest, exchanging phone numbers so Father Andrade could call them if any ll the room, more useful information became known. As they were leaving the house, a teenage girl came running up the walk.

“I can’t find her, Father!”

“Carmen?” The priest’s eyes widened in alarm. “You can’t find Carmen?”

Carwyn walked over to the girl’s side. “Who is this?”

Words tumbled out of the girl’s mouth. “I told her not to take that job. I told her—” She eyed Carwyn suspiciously. “I told her they weren’t like us. That they couldn’t be trusted. But the money was too good. She needed the money. That’s the only reason she went there. We have to find her!”

“Lena, I don’t know—”

“Who is Carmen?” Baojia asked, keeping his distance from the distraught child.
 

“My sister!” she sobbed. “Carmen is my sister!”

Father Andrade said, “Both Lena and Carmen have been in my church since their parents died. They support themselves.” He patted her shoulder. “They are very hard workers. Carmen went to Bar El Ruso to take a job. We both told her it was a bad idea, but she ignored us. She’s been working there for two months now. She keeps to herself and hasn’t had any problems, but Lena has been checking on her every night. Every night, they meet each other. To be safe.”

“But she wasn’t there. I snuck in the club. The other girls said she didn’t show up tonight, but I know she went to work.” The girl was sobbing, fat tears running down her face.

“Has the truck been there?”

“I don’t see it.”

Carwyn asked, “What truck?”

“There is a truck that shows up sometimes,” Father Andrade explained. “It doesn’t deliver anything, just sits outside the club for a time, then is gone again. There are no markings on it.”

Baojia and Carwyn exchanged worried looks.
 

“How long?” Baojia asked. “How long does the truck stay behind the club before it leaves?”

“Sometimes one or two nights. Never more than that.”

“We need you to call us, Father.” Baojia stepped closer. “As soon as a truck shows up, you will call this number. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” The old priest nodded, gathering the crying girl under his stooped shoulder. “I can do that.”

If there was a delivery truck behind Ivan’s club, then another hunt was likely only two or three nights away.

“We have to get back to Los Angeles,” Carwyn said.

Baojia headed for the car. A truck could show up even as they left the city. Could they make it out to Ivan’s hunting grounds in time?