Chapter 51 Esmeralda
Esmeralda
Both Esmeralda and Gabriel raised their arms in surrender as the tailor pointed two pistols at their heads. Not just any pistols. Only one person in all of Costa Mayor had twin shooters with obsidian hilts.
“You’re working for Comandante Olivera,” she said, her voice as steely as she could manage.
“Guilty.” Jorge bobbed up and down in a curtsy.
“Are you an officer?” Gabriel asked.
Jorge snorted. “I was wanted in four counties for armed robbery. I sewed all my disguises myself,” he said smugly.
“But then I had a slipup and got pinched. That’s when General Keara found me and made me a deal.
You see, Comandante Olivera knew you were here all along, Esmeralda.
He sent me to work in the carnival to make sure his precious son didn’t gallop in here like your knight in shining armor before the comandante’s plan could be put in motion. ”
“What plan?” Esmeralda asked.
“You’ll know soon enough. Now, kindly start walking before anyone comes searching for you. I have been instructed to get you far away from this place.”
Gabriel stepped forward. “You’ll take her over my dead body.”
“Fine by me.” Jorge cocked back the hammer. “I don’t need you at all.”
“Wait!” Esmeralda leapt in front of Gabriel. “We’ll do whatever you say. Just please don’t shoot.”
“Promise to play nice?” Jorge asked teasingly.
“Yes.”
Jorge waved the pistols, urging them on. “One wrong move, and Mr. Curls over here is done for.”
They wove around bits of wood still burning. The animals were gone. Everyone had fled before the blasts. It was only them and Jorge and the comandante’s twin weapons.
Esmeralda searched through the wreckage for something hard enough to knock the man out with. But there was nothing she could easily snatch.
“Did you know your boss is aligned with the ringmaster?” she asked.
“Isn’t it obvious? Do you really think the railroad tycoons have any say over what happens within this country? They could never keep the Blackbirds out of Carnival Fantástico if Comandante Olivera wanted in. If anything, the Blackbirds are its main source of protection.”
“Why?”
“It’s all smoke and mirrors. A gilded carnival full of magic is the perfect sort of distraction to keep people’s focus far from the realities of war.”
“But the magic comes from the ringmaster feeding us to a vile god,” Gabriel said.
“Yes. Yes. I know. But you got something wrong. The ringmaster isn’t feeding you to Tezcán.” He guffawed at the absurdity of it. “The god does not have the taste for flesh and blood.”
“He’s feeding our essence to him,” Gabriel said. “I saw it for myself.”
“Oooh! You were being metaphorical. In that case, you are mostly correct. The guests feed Tezcán a bit of their essence every time they enter the attractions and pass by the mirrors. They are the exchange made to give the carnival its gilded glow. And then there’s the performers and staff who break the ringmaster’s rules or fail the Running; those delicious souls are who the god takes in exchange for the glorious enchantments we see every night.
The music, the slapdash roller coaster and the gondolas over our heads, the dazzling prizes, and the delectable treats, those are all from the souls taken.
But their lives aren’t enough to pay back the ringmaster’s personal debts. ”
She and Gabriel shared a glance. If they wanted to end this, to try and help Camila, they needed to know more.
“I wonder what his debts are?” she said out loud, trying to sound as if she were thoroughly interested but not necessarily about what Jorge had to say. He loved to feel like the center of attention, and this would spur him.
“Take a good look at ángel Veracruz,” Jorge said. “The man is practically immortal. Aside from tonight, the ringmaster hasn’t aged in forty years.”
All this time, he’d been an old man hidden inside a younger man’s body. Gross.
“I wonder what he would have to offer the god in exchange for eternal youth?” Gabriel said to Esmeralda, purposely ignoring the tailor.
“His lead acts, of course! He requires stars to feed Tezcán. He needs brilliant showstoppers who are as vibrant as he wants to be. Only the most magnificent performers win the Running. Only the very best. Don’t you see?
But it isn’t only about their performance.
It is about their ferocity, their willingness to do whatever it takes to reach the end of the competition, no matter the cost. Why do you think he makes you pass three challenges?
To prove your tenacity.” Jorge prattled on.
“But I know a secret. Our dear ringmaster is late on his last payment. He’s desperate to feed Tezcán.
And you’re his salvation, doll. But we aren’t going to let that happen. ”
“We aren’t?” she and Gabriel both said.
He shook the weapons again. “Keep walking. I’ve got to get you out of here.”
“So…you’re helping us?” she asked.
“The comandante wants ángel gone. That’s rather difficult when he’s filled with magic.
But if the ringmaster can’t pay Tezcán, he will become his true age.
He’ll be a powerless geezer. And then…” He made a slicing motion over his neck.
“Now move faster before any of ángel’s guards come looking for you.
” He shoved the pistols he held into Esmeralda’s and Gabriel’s backs.
But she couldn’t leave without Ignacio. And she had to help Camila.
She stumbled forward and fell to her knees.
A shock of white hair caught her attention just ahead of them and to her left. Her jaw dropped. A little old woman was standing in the shadows. There was steely fury in her dark eyes, and in her hands, a broken piece of timber.
Esmeralda’s foot shot to her side. Gabriel cursed as he tripped over her toes.
“Dammit, Esmeralda,” Gabriel hissed. “I fell right on a nail.” He tried to get up, but she clutched his arm.
“What are you doing?” Jorge snapped. “Get up. Get up right—”
Camila jumped out of the shadows and swung the wood in the air. It hit Jorge’s skull with a thwack.
The tailor spun in a circle before falling face-first into the rubble.