Should I push her out of the room? She's as despicable as her son, but forcing her to watch as his body disintegrates into dust seems harsh even to me.
I don't give her a chance to make any other attempts to communicate. I drop the knife, pick her up and carry her through the door to the room on the other side. She squirms in my arms like an angry child. I deposit her on the cot, and tear another strip off the piece of sheet I'd left there. I tie her good hand to the leg of the cot. I doubt she can untie it with her wounded arm and she certainly isn't strong enough to pull the cot through the door.
Her guttural moans follow me as I step back into the hall and pull the door shut.
I have to steel myself to go back to Martinez. If I could call up the animal, this would be easier. But it's a human decision I'm making and the human Anna has to handle it.
My hand shakes as I turn the doorknob. The knife is where I dropped it when I took Marta out of the room. I pick it up and approach Martinez, praying that he does not realize what I'm about to do. I remember that Avery, the vampire doctor who treated me when I was first attacked, seemed to be able to read my thoughts from the very first. I know I must do this, but inflicting terror first seems unnecessarily cruel.
Martinez' eyes are still open. They are focused on a point to my left Quickly, before I lose my nerve, I move behind his cot, raise the knife and sever the tendrils of skin that hold his head on his shoulders. The head separates from the body, his eyes roll back. He projects a sigh that remains in my head long after the body has disintegrated into dust.
"Anna."
This time the voice is definitely outside my head.
I whirl toward the sound.
Max has raised himself up on his elbows. He is awake, suddenly, completely. His face is contorted with confusion and something else.
Fear.
His eyes are on the cot that until seconds ago, held Martinez' body. They shift away finally, to catch and hold mine.
"God, Anna," he whispers, voice raw and choked with undisguised horror. "What did you do? What have you become?"
CHAPTER 50
MY FIRST IMPULSE, TO THROW MY ARMS around Max in relief, is stifled by the expression on his face. He's afraid. I see it, I smell it. I don't know how to alleviate that fear so I do what I always do when cornered.
I crack wise.
"What did I do? I think I saved your ass."
There's no smile. The lines around his mouth harden, shift from being afraid of me to something worse, revulsion.
"What are you?" he asks again.
I think he knows the answer, or suspects it. He's spent enough time at Beso de la Muerte. When I don't reply, he lets his head drop back onto the cot. "I don't believe this," he says.
His voice breaks and with it, something deep inside me shifts. I know my relationship with Max is over. Vanished into dust with that stroke of the knife as utterly as Martinez' body.
Why do I feel such despair? Haven't I known all along there was no other possible outcome? Wasn't I prepared to break it off with him as soon as I could? I know now that even if I had told Max at the beginning, his reaction today has shown me that he wouldn't have accepted what I am. How could he?
There's a shuffling sound from across the hall. It snaps my attention back. There'll be plenty of time to wallow in misery when we're safe.
"Can you stand up?"
Max heard the noise, too. He's looking at the door and for an instant, the old Max is back. He looks like a cop again. He draws himself into a sitting position, stretching limbs, testing. When he tries to straighten his right leg, the pain hits.
"Your ankle looks broken." I step close and put out a hand to roll up his pant leg.
He starts to cringe away. I know it's not from fear that I'll hurt the wound on his leg. He doesn't want me to touch him.
"Damn it, Max. We've got to get out of here. That bitch Marta is going to give us trouble if we don't move fast. She's drugged now, but she's coming out of it. We don't have time to waste."
In an instant, he's weighed and accepted the validity of what I've said. "We need to make a splint." He looks around the room. "The legs of one of these cots. Can you break one off?"
Easily. The cot comes apart in my hands as if it were made of papier-mâché. Ripping the canvas into shreds to make a binding acts as a welcome release to the pent-up emotions surging in my gut.
I wish it worked as well on Max. He watches the display of strength and the cloud of disbelief descends once again.
"Will you let me help you with the splint?"
He nods but his expression is wary.
I approach the cot. He rolls up his pant leg. The ankle is swollen and bent. "I'll need to straighten your ankle. It's going to hurt."
For the second time, a little of the old Max, my Max, surfaces. "You couldn't have thought to do this while I was out?"
It brings a smile to my lips. "I was a little preoccupied."
And before the words have dissipated between us, I've placed my hands on both sides of the injury and snapped the ankle back into place. No sense in giving him warning.
He gasps and cries out, his body convulsing with the pain. Sweat beads his forehead but this time, when I reach out to smooth his hair, he doesn't pull back.
"Good job," he rasps. "Glad I didn't see it coming."
The way he's looking at me, I'm not sure whether he's referring to what I just did, or something else.
I use three of the metal legs of the cot and canvas strips to fasten a splint. The fourth leg I hand him to use as a makeshift crutch. It's too short to be of much help, really, but in a pinch, it could serve as an effective weapon.
He hefts it, understanding my thought process without my having to say a word.
And he isn't even a vampire.
"Can you stand?"
He shifts his body to the edge of the cot and gingerly swings his legs to the floor. Sweat drips again from his face when he tries to place weight on both feet. But he is able to stand and hobble slowly on his own.
"What kind of welcoming party can we expect?" he asks.
I tell him what Marta told me. Then ask, "Are there really only those two downstairs and a pilot in this compound?"
He nods. "I don't doubt it. Martinez built this place as a safe house. Even his most trusted confederates don't know about it. You saw that from the air, it's practically invisible. He was arrogant enough to think he and his family could hide out here for months, maybe years, and surface later to reclaim his empire. Might have worked, too, if his family hadn't been killed."
There's a yell from across the hall. Marta. She's found her voice.
I hitch an arm under Max's shoulder. "Let's get her before they hear her downstairs. Don't know about you, but I'm ready to get the hell out of here."
CHAPTER 51
MARTA IS STANDING BY THE DOOR WHEN WE push it open. She remains tethered to the cot, but she has regained enough strength to pull it to the door with her.
"What have you done?"
She is whispering, but her eyes are clear and she's standing upright and under her own power. I imagine she'd been trying to get free of the cloth binding and would have if she'd had more time.
She looks from Max to me. "What have you done to my son, vampire?" she asks again.
I feel Max flinch at my side. If he'd been unsure before, Marta's words confirm what he'd witnessed. To his credit, though, he croaks an incredulous laugh and says, "You're even crazier than your son. Come on, Marta. Let's get you help before somebody throws your ass in a padded cell and tosses away the key."
Marta begins to shake with rage. She rips at the bandage covering her wrist. "We'll see who is crazy. When she smells the blood, she will turn. Your only hope is to help me. Cut me loose and together, we can kill her. She is an animal. She murdered my son."