Chapter 16 #3
The music grew louder and off-key. It rang through her skull, and Lo almost tripped over herself.
This wasn’t Mamá.
It was a card.
And if the card took on Mamá’s form …
She was dead. Just like Senora Montoya.
This card had killed her.
Mamá was gone.
She died—here.
All this time, everyone else had been right. Lo had been the delusional one.
The world blurred with tears. She wanted to fall to the floor in grief. But her body kept dancing. If she stopped now, she wouldn’t survive.
She caught sight of Mayté, who suddenly looked smug.
Fury bubbled in Lo’s veins. No, that couldn’t be right.
This was another trick from the house. Lo spun with La Dama.
When she glanced at Mayté a moment later, tears once again soaked her friend’s cheeks.
That was the truth, but somehow it made Lo feel even angrier.
And soon, but not soon enough, the music stopped. La Dama curtsied before vanishing.
“Congratulations, Lorena,” Misterioso said. “Now return to your seat and place a bean over La Dama.”
Returning to her seat felt like a blur. She could barely remember putting a bean down. She gripped the edge of the chair, tempted to yank it up and hurl it across the room. But she resisted the urge. Barely.
“Lorena?” Dominic whispered.
She looked away, only to see Don Zelaya staring curiously at her, as if watching a performance. But this was real life.
Keep it together. She still needed to survive this round.
“We continue.” Pearla drew the next card and called out, but Lo barely heard her. Her heart wouldn’t stop pounding and her face flushed with unpleasant heat. The fiery rage burned inside her cheeks and stomach.
This house had stolen Mamá from her. It was the reason her life was as miserable as el infierno.
A bony arm stuck out of the card, flesh grayish and dead. A decaying finger pointed at Don Zelaya.
“Are you okay?” Dominic asked.
“Yes, yes,” she gritted out, on the verge of snapping. “What is this card?”
He warily eyed the card. “El Enterrado.”
The buried. Lo swallowed down her fear. This wasn’t the first card that wasn’t normally in Lotería, but something about it was extra strange. Her heart raced with dread.
“Very well.” Don Zelaya rubbed his hands together. “This should be interesting.”
Pearla chuckled. “He’s a bold one.”
“Bold indeed,” Misterioso murmured just as the floor rumbled.
“Whoa.” Dominic stood.
Lo and Don Zelaya did the same. Xiomara remained asleep, even as the table jerked around.
Dominic backed up until he couldn’t move any longer. Just like the previous round, they were trapped inside invisible walls with whatever was about to happen.
“Beware,” Misterioso boomed. “El Enterrado won’t give up until it takes someone with it.”
That same hand from the card shot up from the floor next to Don Zelaya. If he hadn’t stumbled away, it would have snatched his ankle. It didn’t stop there; more and more hands broke through the floor in pursuit of him, each looking more decrepit than the last. Rotting flesh hung from stained bones.
Lo felt grim satisfaction. If he was smart, he would use his La Corona card to call off the hands. Otherwise, there was no way he would survive this. He wasn’t quick and spry like Dominic or Carlos. He turned to Xiomara, who hadn’t stirred from all the chaos.
Xiomara—oh no.
“Don’t!” Dominic yelled.
But it was too late. Don Zelaya snatched Xiomara by the arm.
She jolted awake with a sputter, but couldn’t move in time.
He pushed her to the floor, and the hands snatched her arms and legs, pulling them through the broken floor.
She screamed and writhed but couldn’t break free.
The hands pulled her deeper and deeper until only her head down to her neck stuck up from the floor.
“Why?” She sobbed, but it quickly transformed into an enraged scream, so loud and piercing that it made Lo’s skull ache. But more than that, she felt the betrayal. She could almost taste the bitter pain and revolting rage in her voice: “AFTER EVERYTHING I’VE GIVEN YOU!”
“And I thank you for that. Truly.” Don Zelaya took a cautious step closer. No more hands tried to attack him. El Enterrado was appeased. Now that it was safe, he crouched in front of her. “I was hoping to keep you around longer.” He grabbed her chin. “But alas …”
“?Hijo de puta!” Xiomara bared her teeth, but soon her eyes widened with horror.
Another hand shot up and yanked her by the dark brown hair.
Two more hands grabbed her face, pulling down through the floor.
She screamed and cried until her head was completely under.
The marble suddenly repaired itself, cutting off her screams and entombing her.
She was gone.
Dead.
Just like Mamá.
Don Zelaya dusted himself off and stood.
“And that concludes sudden death!” Misterioso cheerfully announced. “There are now six contestants left. Six out of eleven. A little over half. Be prepared; the latter part of our games always goes much quicker than the first.”
Lo clenched her fists, the truth pounding through her. The house had killed Mamá. It had stolen her from Lo and her sisters. She caught Pearla staring at her, brown eyes visible from under her mask.
“Congratulations on surviving another round,” Pearla said, voice almost taunting.
What was the point of surviving if Mamá was gone?
The Banker came over and took back the deck from Pearla. The woman spoke to him, voice hushed. He glanced at Lo, a strange look on his face. Was that concern? After all this time, now he had the gall to act as if he cared? His gaze lingered on her for another moment before he followed Pearla.
What was the point of any of that?
Lo stormed off. Past Mayté and Carlos.
“Lo?” Mayté called after her.
Lo whirled around. “You were right about my mother. You were right, and I was a fool. Are you happy?” She ran out of the room. Tears slid down her cheeks, but burning rage evaporated them. Lo was going to destroy Fortune’s Kiss and avenge Mamá. She had never been so sure of anything in her life.
As she rode the elevator alone, the pieces of her plan fell into place. She would burn the place down. It was only fitting, since Fortune’s Kiss had made all their lives into a living el infierno.
And she would use the house’s own magic against it.
“Lead me to your demise,” she hissed under her breath as the doors opened.
“I don’t care what it costs me.” She swiped at her dripping nose, not even recoiling as thick blood stained her fingers.
Whether illusion or real, she didn’t care.
Show me how to destroy this place. Show me now.
A cluster of monarch butterflies fluttered by. Were they remnants of La Mariposa? She chased after them through a winding hallway until one by one they dropped dead, transforming into orange marigold petals. A gust of wind blew the petals down a hallway full of doors. Maybe she was onto something.
She tried a door. Locked. Then another and another. Still locked. Was every door here barred to her? She pressed her ear to one but couldn’t make out any sounds. What could be behind them? It had to be something important. She pounded her fist against the wood.
“The answer is behind this door. Show me,” she whispered.
Still locked. The fiery anger inside her blazed hotter.
She tried the next one and the next one, yanking harder and harder.
This hall of doors seemed endless, but it didn’t matter.
She would stay here until the end of eternity if she had to.
“Give me something I can use. Anything!” she spat and yanked the next one.
It flew open.
Lo peeked inside. It was empty and pitch-black, an endless abyss. If she stepped inside, she feared she might suffocate in a glob of inky blackness. Her eyes soon adjusted to the dark, or maybe the room itself changed, revealing a study.
She rushed inside. The crackling fireplace cast an eerie glow throughout the room.
There was a desk along with shelves full of books and other knickknacks.
A dog slept on the rug by the fireplace.
No, not a dog. It had horns and spikes growing along its tail.
Spots on its dark fur glowed bright orange.
An alebrije. Lo froze. Until she realized it was just a statue.
She let out a sharp breath. There wasn’t time for paranoia.
This place had to have some kind of clue.
She hurried to the desk, searching through the stack of papers and yanking the drawers until something gleaming and silver caught her eye.
A letter opener. The handle had ornate carvings of skulls and flowers, but the part that interested her most was the sharp blade.
She lightly touched it with her finger. With the right amount of force, it could do quite a bit of damage.
She stuffed it down her bodice. The cool metal chilled her skin.
One of the drawers slammed shut. She jumped away, heart racing. Everything inside her screamed at her to run, but that was exactly why she needed to stay.
Sprawled across the desk was a map of San Solera and the surrounding countries. Circles in blood red ink covered the parchment. This included Ciudad Milagro. Was this a map of the places Fortune’s Kiss had visited? Could this be the study of one of the Gamemakers?
Lo snooped further. There was a cabinet full of potion bottles, all colorful and glowing bright.
She frowned. It would have been helpful to have her best friend with her.
Mayté always kept tabs on the potions being sold at the street mercado.
They should have been working together, but now Lo was in too deep.
If she left, the house might not let her return to this place.
On the next shelf was a thick ledger full of names. Workers, maybe, or perhaps contestants. She couldn’t tell with just the light from the fireplace, it was too dark to make sense of the names.