Blood of Gato

The trailer creaked softly in the wind. Cain sat sunken into the sagging couch, hunched over, warming his hands on a mug of tea Leticia had just made for him. In the windowpane, the lone lamp quivered in its reflection; the curtains were pinned to the wall with a clothespin so they wouldn't flap. Leticia set a saucer in front of him, then, almost absently, glanced through the crack between the blinds — branches whispered outside the parking lot, and the tarp over the porch rattled with the wind.

"It seems the police are getting very close to catching you," Cain said quietly, blowing over the rising steam before taking a sip.

After their talk in the woods, Leticia and William had brought him back here. On the way, hushed as if the trees had ears, they explained that the police already had his blood and saliva, and that the lab was waiting on the DNA test.

"My DNA is the only thing they've got, for now," William said coldly, rubbing at his neck where a stubborn nerve kept twitching. "You took Dalia out of the picture — the one real witness. So I guess I can stay calm, at least for the moment. There's hardly anyone else left."

Cain arched an eyebrow, thinking for a moment.

"If you fall into the same… category of phenomena that I do," he said, "then what they've got isn't really DNA at all."

"What d'you mean by tha', sugar?" Leticia asked, shifting the mugs around again and, for no clear reason, fussing with a napkin already placed neatly on the tray.

Cain shook his head, half in wonder, half in reproach at their ignorance.

"People like William and me — our DNA isn't straightforward. It's a hybrid, part human, part animal. Any lab machine spits out garbage in the end: corrupted data, unreadable samples. I learned the hard way once, at an emergency ward. They drew my blood, and an hour later the nurse came back in a panic, near tears — said everything in the vial had broken down, changed somehow, worthless. They thought the samples got mixed up." He crooked a faint, dry smile. "And there's more. Our blood, and… other samples, they deteriorate far faster than normal. Exposed to air or light — gone in minutes. So it's not at all certain the police managed to test what they took off you before it unraveled into nothing."

"And you're sure?" William asked cautiously, his voice low and hoarse, as though it came from deep inside a silence that had lasted too long.

"Sure enough to bet they'll hit a dead end," Cain nodded. "Best case, they're left staring at pages of errors without a single conclusion."

Relief rolled through William's body, almost a physical loosening. He let out a long breath, his shoulders softening; the ghost of a guilty smile crossed his lips. Not for the first time, he thought: maybe it hadn't been such a mistake to let this fool live.

"Why you never told me about this?" William turned on Leticia, his words edged more with irritation than genuine anger, sharpened by the shock in her widened eyes.

"I… cher, I ain't never heard a word o' that before," Leticia admitted, ducking her face beneath a spill of red hair. "S'like a revelation to me, truth be told. Lord, you learn somethin' new ev'ry blessed day, don'tcha?"

"Creatures like us don't exactly run to the doctor," Cain said with a wry chuckle, tapping his fingernail against the porcelain. "So your friend here might not even know what aspirin's for."

"Now you hush!" Leticia shot back, lifting her chin. "Course I know what aspirin's for. I just didn't reckon y'all counted as… hell, your own chapter in the science books."

"Neither did anyone else," William said, his tone conciliatory. And he wasn't wrong: if all humanity had health as resilient as theirs, even halfway so, people might never have discovered a single property of alcohol — beyond that it could get you drunk.

Leticia's mouth bent into a twist of a smile. She turned her gaze aside, her ears pinking as she disappeared behind her hair like a curtain.

"I find myself more and more grateful to you, Cain," William said warmly then, sincerity creeping into his voice.

"That's what friends are for," Cain answered with a grin, raising his cup for another sip. He breathed over the steam with an almost luxurious sigh, as though pulling calm into his lungs.

"Well, dream friend," Leticia snapped, her words rolling like honey with vinegar, "the one leavin' love notes outta corpses stacked in a heart." She snatched the remote like it had insulted her, thumb slammin' the button.

The screen blinked alive, spillin' cold blue light through the trailer. On the news, rain hammered barricades. The reporter stood in front o' flashing sirens, voice grim. The camera swung to a dumpster in the Raccoon District: five bodies arranged like some ghastly valentine.

"Police believe this is the work of Heart-Eater," the anchor intoned, "and treat it as a message."

Then the scene flipped to a precinct podium. A captain slouched over a battered folder, fatigue pullin' at his face.

"Captain, any leads? Do you have a suspect?" the reporters hollered.

He rubbed his nose rough, then snarled:

"Heart-Eater is a sick freak who deserves the chair. According to what we've got, he's impotent with twisted sexual urges."

The trailer fell dead quiet. That word impotent hung like poison gas. The TV droned, but William and Leticia already had their eyes pinned on Cain.

Cain froze. Mouth cracked open, shoulders drawn up. Leticia's stare flinched away—her gaze shot downward, shame smudged with pity.

"Guys," Cain stammered, voice catching, "I swear, I'm not… one of those guys. Everything works. It all works just fine."

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" William's voice thundered as he shot up. He grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl, flung it hard.

It struck Cain's temple with a dull crack. Cain recoiled, spine bent, almost dropping his mug—tea sloshed over his fingers, hissin' against skin.

"Ow! I said I ain't like that!" Cain yelped, his voice shrill. "Can't you hear me?!"

William stepped forward fast—every muscle locked tight. He was seconds from lungin' when—

"Enough!" Leticia's shout cut through, sharp as a whip. She planted herself between them, eyes blazin'. "Not in my house, y'hear me? Y'all got fists to throw, you take 'em out on the dirt."

Cain's gaze slid past her, downcast—lost and small.

"So you hate folks with… with somethin' like that?" he muttered, words weak, bewildered.

"You're a goddamn freak," William snapped, seething. "Are you really that stupid? Or are you just so self-absorbed you don't even listen? I don't give a damn about your problem. What I care about is you leavin' your nasty message — five bodies, Cain, in a heart — right in Sophie District."

He tremored with rage. Each word was a growl squeezed through clenched teeth.

"What kind of person does that? Who kills five souls and lays 'em out like they're writin' a greeting card? Right where she lives?"

He slammed his fist into the wall. The whole trailer shuddered, dishes rattlin' in their cupboards. Leticia pressed her hand flat to the wall, steadyin' the paneling like her touch alone could hold the house upright.

"I told you about it in the woods," Cain said, his voice little more than a rasp. "And you weren't this angry then. What's different now?"

Leticia took a step toward William but stopped herself — she knew another move now would only stoke the fire higher.

"In the woods, my head was full of a thousand other things," William rasped, his voice sandpaper-deep. "But now… now that I've heard it from the goddamn TV, it hits me just how deep in shit I really am because of you. This is already the second time the cops are diggin' into me over your damned messages!"

His words cracked into a whisper. Suddenly his claws tore free, and he dragged them across his chest and throat. Thin red welts rose instantly against his skin.

"Stop it. Will, please."

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry," Cain blurted, lifting his palms pointlessly toward him. "I just wanted to talk to you, that's all. Just that and—"

"And you left five corpses out in the open while you were at it," William cut him off like a knife. "You're a freak. You always need a reason to kill, and you just went and found yourself one."

The silence that followed stretched taut until it seemed ready to snap. Cain lifted his head, and something cold, long-awaited, almost sober gleamed in his eyes.

"Oh yeah?" he asked softly, his voice slipping toward a whisper, sly and dangerous. "Then what about you, Gato?"

The name cracked the air like a whip. William flinched.

"What do you call a man who devours others," Cain pressed forward, one step closer, "if not a monster? I'm a killer, yeah—but I don't lie to myself. What about you?"

"Shut your mouth," William breathed. Inside the words was everything: anger, bitterness, and a guilt so sharp it felt like wire dragged under the skin.

"You read the papers lately?" Cain went on, merciless. "You see what they write? 'A demon out of hell, crawled into the light to devour your children.' They were talking about you, Gato. Remember what you did to those three on the basketball court?"

William staggered, as if struck. His fists clenched so tight the knuckles blanched white. Words clawed at his throat but couldn't break free.

"They were kids," Cain's voice rang steady as steel. "Teenagers. You tore them apart. Two never even made it alive to the hospital. One's own ribs punctured his lungs. Another—bled out from a crushed skull. Do you even know their names? Do you?"

"Cain, enough…" Leticia whispered, but he didn't hear her.

"The third's name was Benjamin." Cain spat the name like a curse on a headstone. "He's still in a coma. Might never wake up. From fear. From pain. From seeing the monster in your eyes."

He closed the space between them until only a few inches of heavy, boiling air hung between their faces. Cain leaned forward and locked eyes.

"I can say I kill because I see men's sins. But you? What's your excuse, William? What reason do you give for what you did?"

William's eyes burned bright—not with tears, but with pure rage fed by something deeper, something wounded and young at its marrow. His mouth opened but nothing came out.

"Step back," William whispered finally. His voice was low, breaking—like a string pulled too tight about to snap.

"Or what? You'll kill me?" Cain whispered back, lifting his chin just enough to defy him. "Go on then. Show me just how much of an animal you really are."

William didn't take the bait. His teeth ground together with an audible crack. With a hard shove of his palm, he pushed Cain away at the shoulder—not forceful, but deliberate, final. He pivoted sharply toward the door.

"William, wait! Ah—" Leticia rushed forward a half-step, snatching the jacket off the back of the chair as if she could somehow stall him with it.

But he didn't turn. His hand shot up in bitter dismissal—middle finger slicing the air.

"Go to hell, both of you! I don't ever want to see your faces again!" he spat through clenched teeth, yanking the latch. The trailer door shrieked against its hinges, swung open, and a thin breath of damp, leafy night air slipped inside before the door slammed tight behind him.

"Lawd have mercy… what's wrong with these chil'ren nowadays, so hot in the head?" Leticia sighed, dragging her palm across her face. A wild curl fell into her mouth; she pinched it back behind her ear, then lowered herself onto the edge of the couch like gravity itself had guided her down.

Cain clumsily sat too. His knees trembled, and he pressed both hands down over them like he could still the shaking.

"God, I nearly pissed myself," he muttered with a warped grin that was closer to a grimace. "Shit… Don't you think maybe I… went a little too far?"