For a time he lay in bed, sure that someone had knocked on the door, or perhaps merely waited outside, listening. Of course, Catalina would set spies on him.
He could not stay here. Not even for the few days the Mistress had suggested. He had refused to be one of Fray Juan’s minions, he would not be one of hers. Wasn’t Mexico large enough for both of them to have space to keep to themselves?
Space was not the issue, he supposed.
Quickly, he dressed, then stood at the door, waiting for that feeling of ice along his spine. Here in Catalina’s den, vampires were everywhere, and that sense was dull and constant—but it wasn’t urgent, and it wasn’t right outside. He tried the handle, was not surprised to find the door locked.
He squeezed, wrenched, and broke the handle off. The sound of ripping wood was satisfying, but loud—he’d have to move quickly. Fortunately, the next room was dark. He imagined himself a shadow and, keeping his sword still by his leg, he moved as quickly and quietly as he could. Running any of these demons through with his sword would not kill them. He wondered if he should even carry it, but it was an old habit, and the weapon’s weight steadied him.
He had other weapons, other tools. Ideally, he would not kill any of them. He suspected that if he destroyed one, he would have to destroy them all. He had been through that once before. While Catalina appeared refined and lovely seated on her throne, a power held her aloft and filled the room. Fray Juan could not have stood against her.
Fray Juan had not told him very much, in the end. But he had learned much on his own. To escape, Ricardo must be like a shadow and slip out of here. Vanish before the light of day rose.
He passed through successive rooms—and got lost. The house was very large indeed, and one room ran into another. At every doorway he paused—vampires did not have heartbeats, so he watched for other cues, for the growing chill on his spine, the urgent tingle at the back of his neck that told him they were near. The trouble was, this building was filled with them. Every doorway held danger. Each room might be the one where Eduardo was waiting for him.
Instead, he paused and listened for a current of air. He did not search for danger but for a way out. In this way he discovered the scent of smoke from evening cook fires, and of the often-rank air of a city with too many horses, dogs, rats, and people crammed into too small a space.
He could follow that thread out of here, like Theseus in the labyrinth.
“Señor, you must stop.”
The vampire who found him wasn’t Eduardo or Catalina. This was a man whose thinness made him look particularly young. His doublet hung on him a size too large, as if he was trying to make himself bigger. He wore a rapier, but like Ricardo’s, it seemed mostly a prop on which to put his hand. Pietro. The boy’s name was Pietro, and Ricardo saw when he turned that he must have only been seventeen or eighteen. How maddening, to go through eternity with looks that invited everyone to treat you as a child. He might be a thousand years old, for all Ricardo knew. But no—this one didn’t feel old. He had not yet learned to use his youth as a weapon, inviting folk to underestimate him. He wasn’t yet so powerful.
“Señor,” Ricardo said with a respectful bow. “I was not sure anyone was awake yet.”
“The others are about. I’m sure the Mistress would like to speak with you.”
The boy was not experienced enough to be wary of Ricardo. He thought he was safe in the fortress of his mistress. Pietro met Ricardo’s gaze straight on.
Ricardo spoke gently, stepping toward the boy, holding his gaze, trapping him. “Pietro. I am just a poor country gentleman. This place, your Mistress—I fear it is all too rich for me. Far too complicated to understand. I am overcome, and so I flee back to my simple life. You can explain this to your Mistress, that I am poor and simple, and it would be best for you all to leave me alone and in obscurity. You will never hear from me again.”
The boy stared, lips parted, gaze vacant. He nodded, just a little. “We will never hear from you again,” he murmured.
“That’s right. Really, it’s for the best that you let me go.”
“Yes. It’s for the best.”
“Indeed. Muchas gracias to you, señor.” He bowed again, and the boy nodded, the tension of confusion around his lips.
Ricardo left the boy staring at a wall as if it held the answer to some great problem. Moving quickly, he followed the currents in the air to a servants’ door in back of the house—it wasn’t barred, it wasn’t guarded. Two human women were there, collecting the day’s washing, that was all. They were even easier to deceive than Pietro had been. “I heard a noise in the hallway, you should go see what it is.” They blinked, startled, and fled to do exactly what he suggested.
Just like that, he was outside under a wide open sky, hazy with the glow from evening torches and fires. He would not be happy until he was north again and could see the great wash of stars in the black sky of true night. He fled, using his skill and power to move swiftly, like mist. He hadn’t fed tonight; he grew more tired than he liked. He had little choice, though.
In short order he found the inn where Henri and Suerte were waiting for him. By scent, by the feel of their particular souls in the air, he found their room.
They jumped, startled, when he swung open the door—they hadn’t heard him, and he had forgotten to knock.
“Ricardo!” Henri exclaimed. “What happened to you?”
“I’ll tell you on the road. We must be away. We have preparations to make.”
Both man and son looked frightened, so they had some idea of what they might be facing. “But what—”
“I will explain. Let’s go.”
His estancia was not very defensible. A memory intruded from when Coronado’s company lay siege to a Zuni city, in the far north. City—little more than a group of clay houses clustered together. But it was on a mesa, surrounded by open plain, and for all their primitive weapons those people had defended themselves well. Ricardo remembered.
He wished for high ground now rather than this pleasant valley. He did not know what sort of assault Catalina and her peopl