Chapter 9
NINE
Mayté
Mayté spun around the dance floor. The cool night breeze invigorated her, and the colorful string of lights dangling above glowed extra bright against the black sky.
With every twirl, her azure skirt fanned out around her like endless ocean waves.
The cheerful pops of accordions and guitars, paired with rhythmic clapping from the crowd, pumped through her veins.
She clapped her hands and stamped her feet in time with everyone else.
These were the dances she had been taught by instructors before her father’s disgrace.
Despite everything, her arms and legs never forgot the swift movements.
They were ingrained in both her heart and body.
All the boys wanted a turn to dance with her. Juan Felipe, Ernesto, and even Dominic. Their sombreros and embroidered suits glittered under the winking lights.
Lo was nowhere to be found.
Soon another boy pushed his way to the front and asked for a dance. She didn’t recognize him, but he had the most beautiful hazel eyes she had ever seen. He took her by the hand and wrapped an arm around her waist. This dance would be different.
“Stop this at once!” a woman’s voice boomed. As she commanded, everything ceased. The music, the cheering, even the boy released Mayté and stepped back.
The crowd parted and Senora Montoya marched to Mayté.
Her long-sleeved gown made of bright red satin looked out of place, but somehow less absurd than the bonnet she wore.
She looked even paler than usual, and that was saying a lot for La Reina de Los Vampiros.
“Imposter!” The woman pointed a bony finger at Mayté.
The blue veins in her wrist almost glowed. “You don’t belong here!”
Mayté’s face burned, and she blinked back tears.
Senora Montoya burst into cruel laughter. “You know what you are, so why are you here?”
Mayté squeezed her trembling fingers into fists.
“Because it’s not fair! I didn’t tell my father to ruin everything!
I want to be with the people I grew up with!
I want suitors! I WANT THE LIFE I WAS PROMISED!
” Her voice shattered and tears dripped down her cheeks.
She was angry. So angry. And when she got that angry, she cried.
Senora Montoya stuck out her lower lip, then sneered. “Scream and cry all you want, but that won’t change a thing.”
She knew that already. She’d spent endless hours crying and crying until there were no more tears left in her. She hoped and prayed that Dios would see her pain and somehow, miraculously, fix things. But it never happened.
Her gorgeous dress began to melt away. The elusive azure dripped down like the paint she couldn’t afford. It wasn’t fair. Why did this have to happen to her? What sin did she commit to deserve this? Why?
“Now look at you!” Senora Montoya cackled.
“CáLLATE!” Mayté screamed. “Why are you even here, you’re supposed to be—” She slapped a hand over her mouth, stopping herself from finishing that thought. Her stomach twisted itself into anxious knots.
“What?” Senora Montoya made a strange face and tilted her head to the side. “Dead?” Her bonnet glowed, the ribbons constricting tighter and tighter around her neck. Her eyes bulged.
“NO! STOP!” Mayté turned away just as blood spattered on the poles next to her.
“No … no, no, no.” She gripped her head.
“I’m sorry! I—I didn’t mean to say it—” She fell to her knees.
The lights above swirled around and became too bright.
Nauseatingly so. She couldn’t hold it in any longer. She vomited.
Mayté’s eyes snapped open. Everything was dark and she lay in a fluffy bed with silky sheets. She was no longer on the dance floor covered in blood. Gracias a Dios. But what was that? That dream—nightmare—was the most chilling thing her mind had ever conjured. And reality wasn’t much better.
Her eyes adjusted to the dark. The suite was the same as when she had fallen asleep. The balcony to her right, the bathroom straight ahead. The suite’s door creaked shut, causing her to flinch. Lo wasn’t in her bed. She’d left.
Mayté kicked away the blankets, but then shivered.
The room was ice cold. She scurried to the closet where she found the most luxurious robe made of white silk with azure patterns.
Of course. The color seemed destined to haunt her until the end of time.
Still, she slipped it on and as much as she would’ve denied it, the robe was a warm, comforting hug.
The way the sleeves puffed out at her shoulders and the long train trailing behind her as she tiptoed toward the door made her feel like a queen.
But this wasn’t her castle.
She found an unlit candelabra on the table.
But where were the matches? She reached for a drawer and nearly yelped when the candelabra lit on its own, casting an eerie glow throughout the room that clashed with the calming moonlight.
Like a battle between El Cielo and El Infierno.
She snatched the candelabra and left the room.
“Lo?” she called. But it seemed she was too late. Not a soul stood in the common area. She walked along the circular lobby, running her hand along the wall and doors. Was everyone else asleep? How could they be after the carnage they had witnessed?
Carlos was in one of these rooms. How was he doing? She didn’t want to think about him, but she couldn’t help it. What she needed to do was find out the rules of this damn place as quickly as possible. Then she could figure out a way for the three of them to win.
Was that why Lo left? Was she off to get information from Misterioso?
Mayté’s stomach lurched. A haze of smoke and silence surrounded her.
So quiet, she swore she heard a heartbeat—not her own heart thudding, but a rhythmic vibration inside the walls.
The floor rumbled under her bare feet. It was as if the house was alive and breathing, but surely it was just paranoia—something left over from her nightmare.
Still, her senses were on high alert. It felt like, at any moment, a hand would reach out from the dark and behead her.
Should she look for the croupier? she wondered. Was he even awake at this hour?
There was no way she would be able to get back to sleep, so she stepped into the elevator, but couldn’t remember where anything was.
That blasted tour was all a blur of beauty and blood.
She pressed the button for the fifth floor and hoped for the best. At the very least, she could figure things out depending on where she ended up.
The doors opened and she journeyed through a dark hallway.
As she passed by, lanterns on the walls lit up, but their flames were so dull, she could barely see much more than a few feet ahead.
It soon sank in that this wasn’t a place Misterioso showed them during the tour.
It couldn’t have been. This was just a long stretch of hallways lined with doors.
So many doors. Every corner was just another long hallway full of them.
“Hello?” Mayté whispered.
No answer.
She tried one of the doorknobs. Locked. She tried another and another, but those were locked too. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to be there. She turned and went back the way she came, or at least the way she thought she came, but the elevator was nowhere in sight.
No, this couldn’t be right. Panic squeezed at her chest, and she walked faster and faster until she broke into a full sprint through the endless labyrinth of hallways and doors that led nowhere. What if she couldn’t find her way out?
What if no one found her?
What if she died here?
What if—?
She found a flight of stairs and nearly stumbled as she rushed down them, through the next door and into—the library.
In the dark, the room looked sinister, but the burning fireplace on the far end of the room cast a warm glow.
How did she get here?
If you have time, maybe stop by the library. It’s a good place to sit and think. The croupier’s words filled her head.
Holding her breath, she took a few cautious steps.
How many books did this room hold? There had to be hundreds at the very least. Almost every inch of the walls had shelves filled with them, their bindings all different colors and widths.
It reminded her of a mosaic. Her fingers twitched.
Recreating this in a painting would be a challenge, but sometimes she found comfort in drawing the same shapes over and over.
The tiny little differences were what kept the task from becoming maddening.
She continued along, gazing above at the books near the ceiling.
She would need a ladder to reach those. Were there special books hidden away up there, to keep their secrets?
A rule book, perhaps? Or maybe that was where the worst books went.
The ones with little value. Maybe the true treasures were but an arm’s reach away.
“It’s you.”
Mayté jumped back as a teenage boy stepped out of the shadows, hazel eyes twinkling. The most beautiful eyes she had ever seen. “I just came to read,” he said, flashing a knowing grin. “It’s been a tough shift.”
It was him. The croupier. She almost hadn’t recognized him without the face paint. Earlier he had looked haunting, like a living skeleton, but now he looked quite …
Handsome.
She squinted, studying him hard. His face was the color of the buildings in Milagro during sunset: a soft golden bronze, yet his complexion looked almost dull compared to his hazel eyes.
As if some of the color had been drained.
He wore a black dress shirt and slacks. His tousled brown hair hung near his sharp jawline. He watched her in amusement.
Her heart skipped several beats, and she swore the fireplace blazed brighter, filling the library with heat.