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I sift that through my limited knowledge of Spanish. Kiss of Death?
He nods, pointing to a place half way between Tijuana and Mexicali.
There's nothing out there, I protest. Just desert.
Not exactly. There's a ghost town—or at least that's what it looks like to outsiders. Ramshackle buildings and an abandoned mineshaft. But in the mine, there exists an underground community of misfits who live like moles in the tu
Rattlesnake. Charming. And they live in the tu
Avery nods again. They have supplies brought in on an abandoned railroad spur. It's all funded by one of Mexico's biggest drug dealers. He provides the goods in return for the occasional use of the place.
You mean, like a hideout?
More like a dumpsite. When he sends someone there, they generally don't come back.
So, how does Donaldson fit into this delightful scenario?
Avery keeps his thoughts deceptively composed. I'm not sure he does, of course, but it fits.
Of course it does. A setup like that would be the perfect place for Donaldson, especially if he's after me. I'd follow him, and he could dispose of me—and David—and no one would be the wiser.
I look up at Avery. “It's what you're afraid of, isn't it?"
It's what you should be afraid of, he says. Donaldson is cu
What choice do I have? David is more than a business partner; he's a friend.
He's mortal, A
He lets a moment pass, sifting my emotions through his head, feeling my outrage. He holds up a hand as if to ward off the anger I've directed at him.
I'm just saying that you don't have to do this, not really. You could wait for Donaldson to come back here, where you're in your element, and not meet him in his.
And in the meantime, what happens to David? I pick up his ambivalence, and it notches my fury higher. I will bring David back.
And if this attitude of yours toward mortals is indicative of the vampire community, I don't want to be a part of it.
You have no choice. His eyes darken like angry thunderclouds. You are vampire. You don't seem to grasp that. Your realities are no longer founded in the fate of the mortal world. You have a higher calling.
I feel the rage erupt. Higher calling? One of my vampire cousins with this higher calling just burned my house down and kidnapped my best friend. Avery, we're bloodsucking freaks. Forgive me if I feel more allegiance to David than to Donaldson—or to you.
He shakes his head, but there's no acrimony, only a kind of sad resignation. You don't understand. I appreciate that. This is all so new to you. Though, trust me when I say that as time goes by, what I'm telling you now will make sense. Donaldson is indeed a freak. And he must be dealt with. But it's because of the damage he is doing to our community, not because of your personal vendetta.
Is that supposed to make a difference to me?
Maybe not now. But you must learn to separate your feelings for mortals from what is most important. And that is the preservation of your true family.
Enough. I wave a hand. “I'm wasting time. Can you draw me a map to this place?"
Avery locks me in a gaze for a long moment, gauging any chance of reason or logic—his, of course—making a dent in my determination to go after David. He correctly reads that there is none. The silence grows tight with tension until he breaks it with a noisy sigh.
All right. I'll draw you a map. But getting to this place won't be easy. You'll have to take a four-wheel drive vehicle. Do you have one?
I immediately think of David's Hummer. I am listed as co-owner on his registration for business purposes. But that would be too high profile a vehicle to take into Mexico.
I agree, Avery chimes in. I have an Explorer. You can use that.
What if the Border patrol asks to see the registration? It's against their laws to take a borrowed vehicle into Mexico.
I'll take care of that. I have friends on the Border Patrol. I'll alert them and they'll see you're not bothered.
Or you could go with me.
Avery smiles. I wish I could go with you. I would feel much better if I were there to protect you. But I'm a doctor. I have patients who depend on me. I can't just pick up and disappear for a few days.
"I don't want you to go for protection,” I snap angrily. “I can take care of myself. I want you to go because you know about these things and I don't."
Vampire things, you mean?
Of course. Human vermin I can deal with.
Avery shakes his head. “Well, if you want to wait for a few days—"
Forget it. Just draw the damn map.
Avery doesn't respond to my rancor. He traces a route for me to follow, noting access roads that will lead me to the town. We don't communicate again except for the occasional clarification of a turnoff point or the description of a physical landmark to guide me along the abandoned roadway. When he's done, he reaches inside a desk drawer and pulls out a set of keys.
To the Explorer, he says.
I take the keys and gather up the map. Anything else you can tell me that might help? Can I transform myself into a wolf or evaporate into a puff of smoke?
He smiles. Not yet.
I turn to go. His voice stops me at the doorway.
Be careful, A
Thanks, Avery. But it would mean more if you wanted David back, too.
He doesn't reply to that.
Chapter Twenty-One
The afternoon shadows are lengthening toward sunset when I finally break free of the border bottleneck at Tijuana. I turn east on Highway 2, anxious to get to the cut off before dark. Avery said it would be hard to find during the day. I imagine it will be almost impossible at night.
The Explorer is brand-new, the leather interior still squeaky and aromatic. The car has everything, including an OnStar navigation system. I'm sure that will be of comfort to Avery should I end up in that dumpsite. At least he'll get his car back.
I'm still irritated at his attitude toward David. Hell, toward the whole human race. And he's a doctor, of all things. Does he even see the irony in that?
Shifting in the seat, I turn on the radio. Bright, shrill music fills the cab. It's no comfort. I hate Mexico. I always have. It's dirty, the government corrupt, and the Maquilador Program has done nothing except drain jobs and allow drug dealers freer access to the border. Then there's the heat, dust, poverty and a ridiculous exchange rate.
So why am I thinking about this now?
I pass a hand over my face.
Because it's better than thinking about how scared I am. And it's a way to avoid what's festering in the back of my mind like a raw, open wound.
I don't know what I am or what I'm becoming. I don't know how to handle what's happened with Avery. I don't know where I'll go now that I've lost my home, and I don't know what I'll do if I can't save David.
Not an option. I will save David. I have to. It's the only thing I'm really sure of. It's the only hope I have to save myself.
Nighttime hits the desert with a finality missing at the ocean. One minute it's light, the next darkness descends like a window shade being drawn. Even with the car lights, the ambiguous road is not easy to navigate. I know from Avery's map that the access to the town is coming up but the landmark, a lone scrub pine, is swallowed up by the night. There's not even the sliver of a moon to help light the way.