Chapter 11 #4
“Oh, nonsense!” Misterioso turned cheerful once again. “You have your son, of course. You brought him into this world. He’s your possession. Ten years old. The innocent little thing has no clue that you’re here right now.”
Mayté’s blood ran cold.
“No.” Lo grabbed Mayté’s arms. She was completely helpless. They both were.
Murmurs echoed through the room.
“Will she do it?”
“There’s no other choice.”
“Well, this is a fascinating turn of events,” Don Zelaya said unashamedly.
“No!” Carmen snapped, her voice panicked. “No, no, no. I’d give my own life before that.”
“Very well. It’s not against the rules to offer a counter-wager as long as it’s worth at least the value of what was originally proposed.” Misterioso grinned. “Now, if you could answer El Soldado’s question. The name of the croupier, please?”
This was Carmen’s last chance. If she failed, she was gone. Carmen just stood there. With a small sob, she covered her face. She didn’t know his name.
“Carmen,” Lo whispered.
What was she doing?
“Don’t tell me you’re going to help her,” Don Zelaya loudly interrupted. “Why, that sounds like cheating.” He smugly sipped his drink.
“Actually, most anything goes during these games,” Misterioso said. “The contestants may interact with each other during the challenges. But beware, the path to el infierno was paved with intentions both wicked and noble.”
Mayté and Lo exchanged glances. They would have to keep that in mind. “It’s Alejandro,” Lo softly said. It was up to Carmen if she would trust her or not.
“Alejandro,” Carmen blurted.
“Correct.”
Carmen wiped her eyes and mouthed something to Lo. Probably a thank-you, but her lips trembled so much that Mayté couldn’t be sure.
“One final question,” El Soldado said. “What astronomical event occurs around the time that Fortune’s Kiss chooses a new location?”
Carmen’s face lit up, and Lo whimpered with relief. An easy question. One that anyone remotely interested in Fortune’s Kiss would know.
“The equinox.”
Wait—
An explosive shot rang through the gambling den. Carmen froze. Blood pooled at her chest. Right at her heart. Her wide eyes glazed over and she fell backward. Lo screamed. Carlos began to hum, head down. Mayté’s ears rung.
“Close, but not quite. It’s the solstice, not the equinox, unfortunately.” Misterioso didn’t sound the least bit sorry.
In contrast to last night, everyone at the table was quiet.
Subdued. No one jumped up from their seats, screaming and desperate to escape.
Maybe because the futility of it all had sunk in.
Dominic rubbed his mouth and fiddled with his cravat.
The vaquero downed his entire drink and snatched the one from the person seated next to him.
Lo trembled. Mayté grabbed her hand. Lo’s eyes watered, and she looked absolutely horrified, but then she took a breath and her face hardened into something determined. Mayté caught Alejandro staring, observing them almost wistfully.
You grow numb to it after a while.
Mayté covered her mouth. She still wanted to cry. Just like last night, but this time it wasn’t as much of a surprise. It was shocking, yes, but it didn’t completely blindside her this time. In the game, lives would be lost.
And there was nothing she could do about it.
The other croupiers took Carmen’s body away. It was much less messy, though someone had to wipe away the blood spatters from the wall. Mayté shuddered.
She had to win.
And figure out how to do so with both Lo and Carlos.
The game continued. “La Botella.” Alejandro held up a card that had what appeared to be a liquor bottle on it.
However, Mayté had never seen a bright turquoise liquor before.
Probably spiked with some kind of potion.
The card glowed, and the bottle floated out.
It flew to the table, hovering in front of Senor Vásquez.
He reached for the bottle, but then hesitated.
“The matter, old man? Can’t hold your liquor?” the vaquero taunted.
“La Botella has chosen you, Daniel Vásquez. You must take it,” Misterioso said.
Senor Vásquez’s eyes widened and his wide shoulders shook as he took the bottle. The fear on his face was almost palpable.
“You must either drink or pass it on for someone else to drink,” Misterioso explained. “Whether the contents inside are helpful or poisonous is a mystery.” He put a gloved finger to his lips. “You will wager—”
“No!” Senor Vásquez blurted. “I can’t do this. I want to fold.”
Mayté’s eyes widened, and everyone else at the table stared at Senor Vásquez.
“Remember, senor, what you gave up to compete here.” Misterioso’s voice sharpened into something deadly. “If you fold now, you’ll leave with your life but lose your dream.”
“I—I don’t want to do this anymore.” Senor Vásquez’s mustache twitched. He ran a trembling hand through his thick, curly hair. “I don’t want someone else to die because I’m here.”
Misterioso clicked his tongue. “Very well. If you are certain, then you only have to repeat the words ‘I fold.’ But understand, you have been warned.”
Alejandro shifted on his feet and drummed his fingers against the table. His lips thinned into a straight line, and even with all the makeup, Mayté could read his dread clear as day.
Losing one’s dream was a fate worse than death.
“Senor Vásquez, don’t!” she blurted just as he said, “I fold.”
As soon as the words left his lips, he suddenly stiffened. The life left his dark brown eyes, and his shoulders drooped.
Next to him, Xiomara nudged his arm. “Senor?”
He grunted in response and stared straight ahead. It was as if everything that made him him was sucked dry. Gone was his jovial aura. Now he seemed dull. Not quite empty. More like miserable. A croupier took him by the arm and led him to the elevator.
Alejandro looked away, focusing on his deck of cards. Mayté’s heart sank.
Misterioso spoke. “Folding may be the safer option, as one can leave with their life; however, it comes at a cost. Daniel Vásquez had much higher ambitions than his elote stand. He dreamed of becoming a world-famous chef, making people happy with his delectable dishes.” Misterioso patted his stomach.
“Trust me. I’ve tasted his elote. Unfortunately, we all will suffer, as we will never be able to partake in his delicious dishes ever again.
” Despite his words, his grin remained, unchanging.
Mayté stopped breathing.
“Because he folded, he has lost his knack and desire for cooking. His sense of smell and taste are also gone, which means he can never enjoy food again.”
“Dios mío,” Mayté choked out. She couldn’t even begin to imagine.
If she folded, would she lose her ability to paint?
Lose her eyesight and the feeling in her fingers so she could never even pick up a paintbrush again?
The thought shook her to her very core. Folding was absolutely not an option.
She frowned at her board. La Botella, the card that Alejandro had most recently dealt, and the one that led to Senor Vásquez’s demise, was the last space she needed to fill a horizontal row.
She placed the bean down and called out, voice weak, “Loteria!”
“Wonderful!” Misterioso said. “Our second round has ended!”
Mayté let out a breath. Not a moment too soon. The rest of them were safe.
For now.