Born Into Love (29 page)

Three women, painted like Manuel’s body with gray streaks of age in their hair, pulled Mercedes’ hands from her face and took her from
him. They started to bind her with leather strips, attempting to tie her arms behind her leaving her defenseless. Diego struck leaving two of her attackers hanging from branches. He shook off other tribesmen who tried to subdue him. But an archer fired. Arrows pierced his limbs, sending him onto his knees. Mercedes disappeared into a crowd of shrieking women. Someone snapped off the shaft of the arrow that had pierced his arm. Unless the arrowheads were removed, he could not heal. And if a shaft pierced his heart?

Feet kicked
him. Had he been human, the blows would have broken bones. Men dragged him to an altar exposed now that the thatch had been torn away. More torches surfaced. Voices rose in a chant. He struggled but his injuries limited his strength.

They tied
him in place and ripped open his jungle-battered shirt.

Manuel and other warriors encircled the altar. A temblor rolled down from the cordillera, too weak to do harm. A sorcerer, dressed in a bat skin cape and wearing Teodoro’s shredded clothes about his waist waved a stake.

In the distance Mercedes screamed his name, but her cry died, cut off.

He
drew upon all that was human in him and all that was not.

Mercedes!
He had to save her then he could meet his fate!

In full vampire flush,
he broke the bonds and cracked the sorcerer’s arm; all the anger from having been turned at their ancestors’ hands returned shooting into every cell.

The tribesmen howled in fear as much as the sorcerer over his injury. Seeing a vampire differed greatly from worshiping a mythic being that never materialized. They shrank back. Those who were not fast,
he smashed into each other.

The villagers bolted slamming into anything blocking their escape.

Mercedes lay face down in the red soil; her slacks and underwear at her ankles. He rolled her over. Dark red bruises dotted her ribs; her breasts showed deep scratches. As soon as he unbound her mouth she spit out words. “Untie me! I’m going after them!”

The pounding of wings muffled the villagers’ cries. Bats, dark and large like
him when he took on their form, covered the thatch like a nighttime curtain. But these were not the fruit bats he had called his cousins. These were his brothers in size.

Freed, she pulled up her underpants and slacks. Then she ripped her shirt from the hand
of an unconscious man—one of his earlier targets-and pivoted ready to defend herself. She froze. “Bats! What’s happening now?”

“I think they’re backup.”

“As long as they’re not hungry.” Her words rushed upon themselves. “No assault. They couldn’t get my pants over the boots.”

She donned the shirt then ripped open the pack taken from the hand of another unconscious villager. She squashed fruit into her mouth and opened a can for
him. He drank in front of her out of pure need. Had he not restrained her she would have pursued the women into the forest. “They are gone.” He yanked the arrow and its head from his thigh. “Mercedes, you must remove the other metal from my arm.”

She looked at the wound. “It’s too deep. I’ll hurt you.”

“Do it now.” She obeyed and he fell onto the ground next to her. Both of them weakened but from different causes.

The musty scent of
his winged brothers filled the air like a nourishing aroma. Bats coated the trees and swarmed over the altar. Nothing moved except the flames of torches and the smoke that issued from them until the sorcerer gathered himself from the ground. He lifted his torn cape and swirled it around his chest. He bowed to Diego and to his restless brothers. He raised his good arm and pointed to the trail. Then he dove to the ground as Diego’s “kin” buzzed over him keeping him supine.

Mercedes tugged
Diego’s hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

His
body would not obey. The struggle had weakened him too much. Not even the bovine blood had been enough.

She lowered her neck to
his mouth. “Take it.”

“I cannot.”

“It’s mine to give. Take it.”

“No.” She reached for the ar
rowhead that she’d taken from his body.

“Don’t!”
He grabbed her wrist. She dropped it and left him staring at the sky. When she returned, he watched helplessly as she used another blade and dropped her warm blood on his lips.

“Drink.”

He turned away. “Please. Run before they regroup.”

“Drink from me.”

The warm drops fell on his tongue. He swallowed. A piece of his spirit-the bit he had nurtured back to humanity—crumbled. He fed. Afterward, she held his hand. “Come on,” she urged, “while we can still see the trail.”

The throng of bats flew into the sky perhaps startled by the impatience in her voice. Suddenly she stopped.

“Hey, where’s Manuel?”

* * *

Mercedes stood by a buttressed tree and bit into the life-saving fruit mixed with seeds. “Good thing these trees are plentiful. I’ve got a real love for it.”

His tongue felt glued to his teeth. She rubbed his shoulder trying to change his mood.

“We’re alive, Diego. Be grateful. How did you get those bats to come?”

“I did not call them.”

Their
lone torch sputtered. He paced, unable to deal with the sacrifice she had made.

“Stop carrying on. You’re stronger, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” Mercedes tossed a piece of the fruit into the jungle. The remains would soon be gone. Nothing lasted on the jungle floor.

“Going to punish yourself forever?” she asked.

“I want to.”

“Lie down. I need rest. So do you.”

“I sleep in the daytime.”

“Not lately.” She stepped in front of
him. “You haven’t undone centuries of self-improvement. I gave you love in the form of my blood. It won’t happen again.” She poked him in the arm. “I’m not a restaurant.”

He
gathered wood and used the faltering torch to start a fire. It would keep some of the insects away from her. “Go to sleep.”

“Not unless you sit against the tree with me.”

He did as she wished, but her words had done nothing to ease the contempt he felt for himself. His beloved had again seen him at his most abysmal, fangs displayed, eyes bestial.

Yet
he still had to satisfy himself. He pointed to the jungle and she nodded.

He
chose rodents, large, noisy ones. They were lower than man on the evolutionary scale. Exactly where he placed himself. Before he returned, he doubled back along their trail until he found the soil he needed. Mercedes did not need to know. Why remind her of the demands of his nature?

The jaguar that hunted nearby left
them unmolested.

Sunlight failed to wake
his beloved. However the dappled rays stung like pinpricks on his skin. Today more yellow than green filtered through the leaves. Perhaps they were closer to civilization.

A drop of water landed on Mercedes’ wrist followed by its clone.
Water did what the sun had not. She awoke and stood near him. The emergent trees parted in a gust of wind as darkness swept over the sky-starved lower foliage. They stood next to a hearty ficcus and used the rain to wash.

On another trail, the soil turned to mud.
Their boots sank past the soles and when they lifted their feet a sucking sound accompanied their movements.

Mercedes laughed. “It’s not all bad. This muck is disgusting, but look at that butterfly.”

“A blue Morpho.”

“Prettier than jewelry.”

“How do you feel?”

“Ready for a hot bath.”

He grasped her hand. “Listen, flowing water.” They followed the sound to a stream about six inches deep and a foot wide. She drank then washed her hands and face. On his skin the water felt warm. He thought of the evenings they had had in his pool.

“Do you know where we are?” she asked.

“No.”

“What’s your plan, captain?”

“We follow the stream to a river and the river to a village.”

“What’ll we do then? Our clothes are in shreds.”

He ran his fingers over the welts showing through gaps in the sleeves and bodice of her shirt. “You are in pain.”

“The closer I get to Long Island the less I hurt.”

“Then we will hurry.”

She examined
his body. “You’ve healed. Nothing for me to kiss and make better.”

“There’
s always room for improvement, but that can take place on Long Island.”

Mercedes talked for miles.
He pointed to a sloth climbing down a tree. “We have company.”

“He’s more tired than I am.”

“Look higher.”

“Orchids!” She clasped
his hand. “They remind me of your garden.”

At dusk
he stationed her by a ceiba tree. She recognized heliconia nearby as she paused to gather palm leaves for their bedding. He built a fire using a bow drill. Over the centuries he had lost the skill, but it returned before he sacrificed a second piece of shoelace or broke the spindle.

She stretched on her side. “Are you going to feed tonight?”

“Yes.” He placed several branches near her. “You know what to do.”

“Keep the fire high.”

He entered the jungle, with life humming around him. The rainforest felt less mysterious. The sensation had happened other times in his living-dead life, but never because he felt at home. Always the reason had been because he pretended to belong. He acted the part of the new farmer or the landowner or the kindly civil servant. The difference now was that Mercedes had humanized him.

Since
he was a vampire, the statement seemed a contradiction, but the explanation rang true in his heart. He knew what he felt. When he again sat near the fire, Mercedes put her leg over his and gave him the look of a courtesan.

“Is there a masseuse in the house?” she asked.

“I do not have a great deal of experience.”

“I really need your help. My calves are killing me. I was unprepared for the jungle.”

“Where should I begin?”

“You choose.”

Diego overdid the gentleness. Not every part of her skin had welts. “You can rub harder. I just look soft.”

When he finished kneading her calves, his hands massaged the small of her back.

“I’m melting. You’re better than a spa.”

“I will take that comment as encouragement.”

He massaged her shoulders and neck, careful to lift her hair. The orange light of the fire created a homey atmosphere something she never thought would happen in the jungle. She inhaled the mingled elemental scents of musk and earth, woman and man.

Never had she felt so relaxed. She closed her eyes for a moment and when she awakened, he held a tiny white flower that he placed behind her ear.

She hoped her smile would be enough of a response. He kissed her shoulder and hugged her to his chest until the jungle awoke. Only then did he stretch out next to her. On his chest he had spread soil.

* * *

Mercedes had handled the miles of loose trail bordered by occasional jacaranda trees better than many explorers. They stopped to rest near a clearing. “Look.”

“A shed. Maybe somebody’s inside with soap.”

He laughed. “You are obsessed.” He looked in the window. Some of the mud bricks had caved in along the upper sections. Birds nested in the waning thatched roof. He opened the reed door and scanned the floor. “Nothing but a candy wrapper.”

“Which reminds me, I’m hungry.”

Among the din of the birds he caught a man-made sound and signaled for quiet.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Civilization.”

“What’re we going to do?”

“We will make contact.”

She grabbed a rock. “I’m not going to get beaten ever again.”

He had heard chopping, but that ceased. They followed a freshly packed trail lined with whitewashed stones that emptied into a clearing.

A young man with a wilted straw hat spotted
them and froze in front of a green canvas tent. He jerked back. “Whoa. I wasn’t expecting anyone today.”

Several muscled workers, perhaps members of a nearby tribe, carried planks and hammers.
Their presence or their appearance startled the men who stumbled cartoon-like into one another.

“Where are we?” Mercedes asked.

The young man extended his hand. “I’m Charlie. I’m in charge of construction. You’re at the newest eco-lodge in this province.” He looked at their clothes. “What happened?”