Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
Mayté
Everything comes at a price.
Alejandro’s words pounded through Mayté’s aching head. This is what he had meant. The bigger the magic, the steeper the cost. How could she have been so foolish?
And now, when they needed a magical advantage the most, she and Lo couldn’t use it. How were they going to survive?
“Sudden death?” The Banker raised an eyebrow at Misterioso. His eyes narrowed into slits; the only thing sharper was his razor-like grin. He carelessly shuffled his deck. “What brought this about?”
Misterioso’s jaw ticked, yet his smile remained. “I have caught wind that there has been meddling. Someone has been feeding a player information.”
Mayté’s heart stopped. He knew about her and Alejandro. Could the house have somehow told him? What would that mean—
But Misterioso’s gaze landed on Lo and the Banker.
“Oh, my.” The Banker’s smirk became shameless. “I wonder who could have possibly done that.”
“I have my suspicions,” Misterioso said.
“Do you?” The Banker leaned against the table. “Regardless, I wonder what our other Gamemaker will think of this new change. Guess we will have to find out.”
Misterioso ground his teeth, but, as if catching himself, he turned away. “I am simply trying to keep balance within the house!”
“I see,” the Banker sighed, unconvinced.
Lo watched the men in fascination.
Such an odd exchange—
“There will be six left,” Carlos murmured, tearing Mayté from her thoughts. “We each have a twenty-five percent chance of getting eliminated.”
Right. There were more frightening things to focus on.
Twenty-five percent Mayté would die.
Twenty-five percent Lo would die.
Twenty-five percent Carlos would die.
Carlos. He had no idea this was all her fault.
“I’m sure you’re all wondering how we shall proceed,” Misterioso spat.
“You all will split into two groups of four.” He lifted four long fingers to demonstrate.
“In this thrilling round, each group will play indefinitely until one person in each group is eliminated. Are you ready?” His words carried a timbre of excitement, as if he couldn’t wait for them to die.
None of the players responded. Dominic dabbed at his mouth with a handkerchief. Xiomara looked away. The shopkeeper glared at Misterioso, and Rodrigo flashed a crude gesture.
“Mayté,” Lo whispered in her ear. “We should split up.”
“Yes.” If they played at the same table, it would only worsen their odds of both surviving. Mayté let out a shaky breath.
Dios, if you’re listening—Abuelita, if you’re watching, please give me your strength.
“Also.” Lo nudged Mayté. “You’re worth more than anyone else here. Think of yourself first. You need to survive this round, no matter what.”
Mayté nodded. The two released each other and went in opposite directions.
She headed for the table Alejandro stood at.
He might not be able to help her, but still she found the game wasn’t as horrific when Alejandro was the dealer.
She thought back to their time in the archery range …
art studio? The silly faces he made while posing made her smile.
His gentle hands and sweet words calmed her, warmed her insides.
La Sirena’s face appeared in her mind. Your heart shall be torn in two.
Dread ran down her spine, and her strides slowed. Alejandro. He was the first person who came to her mind. The way La Sirena put her finger to her lips. It was just like when Alejandro did so. What if he broke her heart? But … wouldn’t she have to give him her heart for him to break it?
Even from afar, his hazel eyes homed in on her. Face grim, he wouldn’t look away.
Had he already stolen her heart right out from under her nose?
Carlos stepped next to her. She gasped. If he played with her, that would worsen his chances. “Y-you can’t do this!” She grabbed his sleeve.
“I can’t let you compete alone.”
Her eyes filled with tears. She had tried to hide her true feelings behind anger, tried to avoid them, but now she had to face them head-on. “Carlos, you can’t. I—I don’t want you to die!”
His lips curled into a half smile, but he couldn’t hide the fear in his eyes. “I don’t want you to die either. That’s why I’m going to do whatever I can to protect you. Okay?”
“But—”
“Ever since Father … I became the person who was supposed to take care of our family. I thought I was doing the most I could do, but I’ve let you down so much, haven’t I?”
She bit down on her lip to keep it from quivering. All this time, she had yearned for her family to acknowledge her sacrifices. To validate her hardships.
“Think of it as recompense,” he finished.
Knowing that her brother saw her, that he cared for her, was a comfort. But she also felt a twinge of guilt. He had come here for his own reasons.
“Yeah, well.” She yanked his arm. “I’m going to do anything I can to protect you too, menso!” she snapped.
Carlos chuckled, and the tension melted from his face. “Good luck, Mayté.”
“Good luck.” She pulled herself together. Only one person would die in this round. It didn’t have to be her or Carlos.
The two siblings sat next to each other.
“Milagro,” Alejandro softly whispered.
“What?” She looked up at him.
His hazel eyes were wide and brimming with something she couldn’t quite recognize.
If emotions were paint, her best guess would have been to mix together awe and terror, but quickly the fear took over.
He opened his mouth to say something, but then looked down and drummed his fingers on the table.
Instead, he pulled out a napkin from his pocket and scrawled something on it.
He slid it to Mayté face down, but shook his head before she could grab it.
“After the round,” he said, voice thick with trepidation.
She nodded and slipped the napkin into her pocket. Normally, curiosity would have gnawed at her, but right now she just needed to survive. Carlos needed to survive too.
Carlos looked between Mayté and Alejandro in confusion. Mayté shook her head. She would explain things to him later. When they were safe. Carlos nodded in understanding.
“L-let’s get this over with, I suppose.” The shopkeeper pulled out the seat next to her, but Rodrigo shoved him out of the way.
Mayté’s heart dropped to the icy depths of her stomach.
“Sorry, amigo, but this seat’s taken.” Rodrigo plopped down and turned to Mayté and Carlos with a nasty grin. “I was hopin’ to get a game in with Robles’s kids. This’ll be fun.” He cracked his knuckles.
“Ay yai yai. Not for the rest of us.” With a grumble, the shopkeeper took the last available seat.
This was the worst possible combination for Mayté.
Stuck in a game with her brother who needed to survive, the stingy shopkeeper who hated her, and this thug who was out to get her.
Also, he had the El Valiente card, which would give him access to a dagger.
That made him the most dangerous player at the table.
At the other table sat Lo, Dominic, Don Zelaya, and Xiomara. At least Lo would have an easier time surviving. The only one of that bunch who was a threat was Don Zelaya.
The same masked dancers came over and passed out goblets of drinks to all eight contestants. Their bright gowns sashayed around them as they moved from person to person. Mayté pushed her drink away. It wouldn’t help her.
Alejandro shuffled the cards. They flew from hand to hand and swirled around his body, unleashing a chilly breeze. Alejandro closed his eyes in concentration. He looked serene and graceful. One with the wind. Like San Viento.
“Stop,” Rodrigo barked.
Alejandro jolted, but easily caught every last card before any could fall.
“I’ll make this nice and quick for everyone.” Rodrigo’s lips slithered into a snakelike grin.
Blood pounded in Mayté’s ear.
Rodrigo took a big slurp of his drink and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Each of you needs to give me something.” His slimy gaze skimmed over the shopkeeper and then Carlos, before lingering on Mayté.
“Whoever has the least to offer me dies.” He held up his El Valiente card. “Easy as that.”
“Wha—?” the shopkeeper sputtered.
“Can he really do that?” Carlos demanded.
Mayté shot Alejandro a frantic look.
“We need to play the game properly,” Alejandro said, voice clipped. “It’s not your turn.”
“Nonsense!” Misterioso drawled. “It’s a legal move. El Valiente can be thrown whenever the player chooses. Unless—are you trying to meddle with my players as well?”
Alejandro’s eyes flickered with fear. “Of course not.” He looked down. “Proceed.”
Mayté couldn’t breathe.
Rodrigo leaned back in his seat, resting his boots on the table. “Start making offers. Wow me.”
“Very well.” The shopkeeper sighed and stroked his mustache.
His eyes gleamed and his fretting frown turned smug.
“Spare my life and you can take my shop. Do with it as you please.” Instead of looking to see Rodrigo’s reaction, he turned to Mayté and Carlos.
His face oozed with triumph. They all knew that neither of them could trump his offer.
“Ah, your shop, hmm?” Rodrigo twirled his stubby sausage of a finger. “Yes, yes, I could sell it for quite a lot. I’m sure. Now you.” He nodded at Carlos.
What could he possibly offer? Neither he nor Mayté had much of anything.
She gripped the table to keep from slipping out of her seat. What was there for her to give? A few paintings?
“I’ll give my winnings from the last round,” Carlos said. “And anything else I win in the coming rounds as well, but only if you leave me and my sister alone.”
“Carlos,” Mayté gasped. “You don’t have to—”
“No.” He turned to her, gaze hardened with determination. “This is what I should have done from the very beginning. I should have protected you from those monsters the minute they showed up at our place.”