Trapped in a now unknown for him modern world centuries after his slumber, a 15th century vampire named Arnaud de la Roche must team up with a young orphan boy, Arturo, to navigate the perils of the modern era and uncover the truth about his past.
A...
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The afternoon sun bathed the streets of the small town with an orange glow when Lola and Miguel's patrol arrived at the crime scene. The young 25-year-old officer frowned upon seeing the yellow police tape gently waving in the breeze.
"What the hell happened here?" she muttered, more to herself than to her partner.
Miguel, a burly, graying man nearing his forties, shrugged impassively. He had been on the force for too many years to be easily surprised.
"Just stay back and observe, rookie. Let me handle this," he grunted, lighting a cigarette.
Lola pressed her lips together, annoyed by her partner's condescending tone, but nodded and followed him to the crime scene. Once they crossed the tape, they came to an abrupt stop, struck by the gruesome spectacle before them.
Sixteen bodies lay strewn across the street and sidewalk, in grotesque poses and surrounded by pools of darkened blood. But the most disturbing were the wounds: deep gashes tore through flesh, limbs torn clean off, necks shredded to expose bones and tendons.
"Oh my God..." Lola gasped, bringing a hand to her mouth.
Miguel simply spat on the ground, jaw clenched. He pushed the young woman aside with a light shove and approached one of the corpses, inspecting it with a clinical gaze.
"Looks unrecognizable, but from the tattoo on his forearm I'd say that's Julio Ramos, the bastard who until recently worked for the Ríos," he commented with a nod.
Lola blinked, snapping out of her initial stupor.
"You think it was a cartel hit? Because this..." she gestured at the scene, "not even criminals could..."
"You kidding?" Miguel cut her off with a bitter laugh. "You've seen what those sick fucks are capable of doing just to send a message."
The young woman shook her head, feeling nauseous. She was used to seeing her fair share of violence at the precinct, but this was too much, even for her.
Miguel continued inspecting the scene with an impassive air, casually kicking a skull at his feet. Suddenly, he stopped and bent down to pick something up from the ground.
"Look at this, Lola. It's a fang," he said, showing her the long, sharp tooth he held in his hand.
The officer approached, frowning in confusion.
"A fang? Like from an animal?" she asked.
"I don't know, looks too big to belong to a dog or coyote," Miguel replied, turning the fang between his fingers.
Suddenly, a chill ran down Lola's spine. She shook her head, dismissing the absurd idea that had crossed her mind. She had heard the ramblings of the locals when they talked about that day, saying the chupacabra had freed them from the cartel.
