Chapter thirty five
1 MONTH LATER:
Lauren's P.O.V.
"Come! Must go now! Hurry up!" A man with a thick Mexican accent called to me from the bus station.
Hurry up, he said. If I go my fastest, they might all faint.
I ran as fast a human, until I came to a stop at the station.
The man grabbed my small luggage bag, and through it under the bus compartment. "Very good. You must get on now, bus is leaving fast." He guided me to the door of the bus.
I nodded a quick thanks, and hopped on.
The woman driving the bus gave me an exasperated sigh, it looks they've been waiting for me.
"Next stop, Mexico City." Her Mexican accent spread heavily with the echo of the microphone.
I took a seat next to fat man with a beard. "Gracias," He said happily to me.
I raised an eyebrow. I can speak Spanish, but I prefer English. "Excuse me?" I said.
The man laughed, and his stomach was like jello. "I am sorry. You speak English?" Another Mexican accent.
I nodded. "What did you say to me before?"
He chuckled and looked at me as if I was a horse he was buying. "I said thank you."
I furrowed my eyebrows. I didn't understand where this was going. "Why?"
He raised his hand and lifted my chin up to look at him directly, it made me shiver to have his chubby hands touch me. Gross. "You are very beautiful Senorita. I was just thanking God for this pleasure to have you sit beside me." He moved his hand from my face and touched my bare knee. He caressed it with his thumb, and I moved away.
"Hmm. Thank you." I started to move back closer to him, because I figured this man was my next ticket to a meal.
The man smiled happily and leaned into me. "This will be the best five hours of my life."
Five and a half hours later, I was staring at the man's cold lifeless body.
I didn't even have a conscience on this one. He was a pervert, and he made several moves on me on that bus trip. It may have been the best five hours of his life, and even when I asked if he would like to come back to my hotel with me, he seemed blissfully happy.
Too bad that only lasted about ten seconds as soon as we got to an alleyway. I sucked his blood quickly, because I didn't want to look at the ugly man that I was killing. Even I have standards.
But I was hungry, and I wasn't in the mood to go out hunting today.
I picked up the body with one hand, and carried him to another dumpster that was nearby. I pulled a match out of my pocket, and soon the dumpster was flaming.
I walked away without a second glance.
I tried to focus on why I was here, in Mexico. But at times I soon forgot. It was hard to try and remember things that made you so sad and angry.
I was here to find Marco.
I had gone back to records of my London in 1804. I searched for any hints of a Marco for two weeks alone. I never slept, and never ate. Two weeks is the longest I've ever gone without food.
I finally came across a Marco Venzula. A Mexican name, obviously. So here I am.
I've started searching records of any Marco Venzula's in Mexico now, and I came across only one. This must be the right place to look, and what do I have to lose?
I have eternity to look, I'll find him whatever it takes.
