“We need a bigger cloth to dress his wound,” he explained as his eyes took in the room. “Perfect,” he said, pointing beyond my head.
Faster than my eyes could follow, he left and returned holding a scarf, Beatriz’s scarf I must have dropped when she attacked me. While I held Bécquer, Federico wrapped it around the wound.
“You should go, Carla,” Federico told me when he finished.
“Go? But you said Bécquer needs blood.”
Federico frowned, and then, as a spark of understanding lit his eyes, he shook his head. “My blood, Carla. Not yours. How could you think I would take yours?”
“I thought he needed human blood.”
“No. Mine will do.” Kneeling, he cut his own wrist with a knife and held the wound to Bécquer’s lips.
I watched Bécquer, looking desperately for some sign of life, for although he had made Beatriz an immortal —
You’re wrong. Bécquer’s voice resonated inside my mind, and so relieved I was that he was still alive, I didn’t fight his intrusion this time. Not even when his memories came rushing in. A fuzzy memory of Beatriz dragging a reluctant Bécquer through the library, of Beatriz drinking blood from him, of Beatriz, her eyes glowing red, staring at him with wild desire.
Good heavens, Federico yelled, moving back. You made Beatriz immortal!
Bécquer sat up. I didn’t. She stole my blood. Give me some credit, for Carla’s sake.
Federico stared at me. You can hear us?
“Yes,” I said, aloud now. For only then, I realized the previous conversation had taken place inside my head.
Federico turned to Bécquer. “You gave Carla your blood?”
“What if I did?”
“Really, Bécquer. No wonder Beatriz attacked you.”
“Glad to hear you approve.”
“You knew Beatriz was concerned about Carla taking her place,” Federico continued, ignoring Bécquer’s sarcastic retort, “yet you give her your blood. What did you expect?”
“Certainly not that you’d condone her attack.”
“I do not condone her action. But this wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t use humans.”
“I don’t use humans, Federico. You know quite well that Beatriz asked me to take her as my blood giver. As for Carla, you don’t have to worry: she doesn’t want my blood. You can ask her. When I’m gone.”
Setting his hands firmly on the sofa, Bécquer stood.
Federico blocked his way. “Where are you going?”
“To find Beatriz. I must stop her before she kills someone.”
“You are not serious. You cannot stop Beatriz. She’s stronger than you are right now. She will kill you.”
Bécquer groaned. “Thanks for your vote of confidence. But I’ve no choice.”
“Be my guest.” Bowing mockingly at him, Federico stepped aside.
I looked on, bemused by Federico’s reaction, for Bécquer was shaking badly and I couldn’t imagine how he was going to make it to the door, let alone confront Beatriz, this new immortal Beatriz who had lifted me with the ease of a tornado uprooting a tree.
As I feared, Bécquer didn’t make it far. He took a step, then stumbled and would have fallen if Federico had not held him and helped him back to the sofa.
“I need more blood,” Bécquer’s voice was low, demanding. “I must reach Beatriz tonight.”
“Beatriz is beyond your help, Bécquer. She stole immortality. The Elders will kill her. You know the law.”
“Yes, I know the law. I sired her, thus she is my responsibility. If she kills tonight, the Elders will blame me for her digressions and kill me too.”
Federico’s face turned ashen. “Then I’ll do it. I’ll find her and kill her before she kills somebody.”
“I don’t want her dead. I want to stop her before it’s too late.”
“You can’t, Bécquer. You have lost too much blood and she’s driven by the unquenchable thirst of the newborn. Even if I’d give you blood, you won’t be a match for her.”
After a rapid nod in my direction, Federico started toward the door. But before he reached it, I heard in my mind Bécquer’s voice calling his name. His silent cry, a compelling order that, even though it was not directed at me, overcame my will and sent me to my knees. Federico stopped.
Give me your blood. Again Bécquer’s voice boomed inside my head, a command too strong even for Federico to resist.
Through half closed eyes, I watched him walk back to Bécquer’s side, and sitting on the sofa pull down the collar of his shirt to reveal his naked throat. I looked away.
I could feel the battle raging between their minds, flashes of anger storming back and forth, hurting as if a hammer was pounding my brain.
“Enough,” I shouted, not really expecting them to hear me. But immediately the voices stopped and, for a moment, only Bécquer’s remained, a soothing whisper. Block your thoughts. Then their bickering returned.
I can’t, I called to him. I don’t know how.
Think of ice, Bécquer’s voice suggested. A wall of ice.
I tried and failed. I tried again, until the wall remained, cold and forbidding between their minds and mine. And there was silence. A silence broken soon by the steps of someone running, getting closer and closer. Behind the sofa to my left, a door I hadn’t noticed before opened and Matt stood in the doorway.
He was panting which didn’t surprise me for I had heard him running, but despite his obvious hurry, he stood on the threshold, blinking, and didn’t come in. The library, I realized then, was lit only by the moonlight coming through the glass wall, and for a human eye, the room would be almost in darkness. The fact that I could see clearly was, I guessed, another side effect of having taken Bécquer’s blood.
While Matt waited at the door, Bécquer came to my side and helped me to my feet. “Sorry, Carla,” he whispered, his fingers pushing back a stray lock of my hair. “I didn’t mean to yell at you.”
Before I could as much as nod, he had already reached the open door, and was inviting Matt to come inside.
Matt didn’t move. “Where is Federico?” he asked, and there was fear in his voice.
Bécquer pointed at the sofa. “Right there.”
“Is he hurt?”
“No. Why would you think that?”
“My mother … She’s immortal.”
“Yes. I know.”
Bécquer’s voice was even. But Matt’s snapped. “Why? Why did you do it?”
“He didn’t,” Federico said, walking to them. “Your mother stole Bécquer’s blood.”
“You have to find her.”
“I was just going — ”
“To kill her,” Bécquer finished Federico’s sentence.
Matt stared at Federico, eyes open wide with horror. “You can’t kill her. She’s my mother.”
“He won’t,” Bécquer said while Federico glowered at him. “Federico is staying here. To attend to the party,” he added, shooting a warning look at his friend. Then he turned to Matt, “And I won’t harm your mother. You have my word. But you must tell me where she is.”
“I don’t know. She came to my room and demanded I go with her. When I refused, she got furious. We were still arguing when, without warning, she turned and exited through the window. I heard the screech of tires and when I looked down, I saw her standing before Ryan’s Prius. She moved as I watched, opened the driver’s door and dragged Ryan from inside. I didn’t see what happened next for I rushed down the stairs, but her car is gone and I couldn’t find Ryan.”
“She took Ryan?” I screamed and rushed to him. “Where did your mother go?”