Chapter 17 #3
“Because …” Alejandro hesitated. Mouth shut tight, he ran his tongue over his teeth.
“I was on my way to becoming a Gamemaker. All of them were players once—” He ran a hand through his thick hair.
“They promise you things—a bit of freedom, some of your memories. Thing is, I only have two choices. Either I become a Gamemaker, feeding off pain and the misery of others, or I let the house consume every last bit of me until there’s nothing left.
I can’t grow older here. Can’t die by my own hand.
I’ve—I’ve tried.” He frowned, then clenched his fists so hard that his knuckles turned white.
“I’m stuck.” His voice was hoarse with grief.
“That’s horrible.” Mayté’s voice cracked. Anything short of winning, even surviving, was still damnation. “It all feels so … hopeless.”
“I know.” He stared at her, hazel eyes shimmering in a golden haze. “But there’s more to the story.” He pointed to a painting on the far wall. The canvas stretched out to an amazing length, but even more shocking was the way the image shifted and changed.
First it showed a young woman, the most beautiful woman Mayté had ever seen.
The woman lit a candle. The dancing flame almost looked alive.
For a second, Mayté lost herself trying to figure out how she could replicate the effect in her own paintings, but Alejandro’s voice pulled her out of her head.
“There was once a mortal woman who prayed to San Fortuno every night, for her family was very cruel and wanted to marry her off to the highest bidder.”
The woman in the painting pressed her palms together in prayer and squeezed her tearful eyes closed. The entire room lit up as a figure bathed in light appeared before her.
“San Fortuno heard her prayers and became quite fond of her. To the point that he eventually appeared to her whenever she prayed. The two inevitably fell in love.”
The woman stepped into the light and embraced San Fortuno. It was a sight that was both beautiful and frightening.
“To protect his love, San Fortuno created a potion, El Beso de la Fortuna.”
The painting changed once again, revealing a vial filled with a glittering golden potion. As soon as a drop hit the ground, everything transformed into a flurry of painted colors.
“The purpose of the potion was to create a place for the woman and San Fortuno to hide together, the woman away from her family and San Fortuno away from the judgment of Dios and the other Santos. The potion reflected their feelings of love, joy, and safety with each other, and made the house a paradise on earth.”
As the typhoon of colors slowed, Mayté gasped. Now the painting was an exact replica of Fortune’s Kiss, but on a smaller scale. Colorful alebrijes danced across the canvas, more vibrant and surreal than any of the wooden sculptures sold at the mercado.
“The house attracted the guiding animals from the dream world. The alebrijes quickly took to the maiden and became guardians of the house.” Alejandro’s expression turned grim.
Dark splotches appeared on the painting, forming into a group of figures closing in on the house.
Red spatters stained the canvas as the dark forms slayed the alebrijes.
“Eventually, the woman’s suitors found the hideaway.
They broke into the house. The enchantment continued to work, but now the house fed off the woman’s fear and murderous rage toward the men.
The house attacked them until they became a part of it too. ”
The painting moved into a chaotic mess of colors and smears.
To some it might have looked completely abstract, but Mayté saw the frenzy of anger and terror in the deep reds and erratic lines.
Saw the men fleeing as shadows grabbed them and forced them into the walls.
She expected everything to become peaceful after that, but the entire painting shook both inside and out.
The canvas spat out streaks of paint onto the floor. A deep red. Almost black. Like blood.
“San Fortuno lost control of the house, and the woman became trapped inside. When Dios found out, he banished San Fortuno forever.”
Tears prick the corners of Mayté’s eyes. It wasn’t fair. The young woman just wanted to be free and happy. Other people stole that from her. Other people twisted her dream.
“Without her love, the woman was beside herself. She became the first Gamemaker,” Alejandro said.
“Luring people in so the house could feed on their souls.” He motioned to the house’s heart.
“The pool of golden potion. This is the result. The sole thing keeping the house and its magic alive. They say that without it, the house would collapse on itself.”
Mayté slowly backed away from the pool. Suddenly the pleasant warmth felt sinful. “So, the woman is here? She’s the one in charge?”
Alejandro shook his head. “Not long after, she went mad and let the house consume her. By then, there were other Gamemakers to take her place, and the cycle continues endlessly, because—”
“Everything comes at a price,” Mayté whispered. Her eyes stung. Was she destined to become another story with a sad ending? The sight of that cursed pool made her sick to her stomach. She turned away and noticed that the painting had changed once again.
It now showed the woman and San Fortuno embracing once again, as glittering light consumed them. The image shifted into a game card. Mayté inched closer and squinted, trying to make out the words on the card. “El Beso de la Fortuna?”
“Yes,” Alejandro’s voice trembled. “This card always appears during the final round. If someone with a pure heart claims the card, something miraculous will happen. But if anyone else does, it will simply further corrupt them. I …” He stuffed his hands in his pockets.
“I’ve never seen the miracle, but, as I’ve read everyone’s soul book, I’ve searched for the right person to make it happen.
Mayté, your heart is pure. I know you can make the miracle happen, and I …
” He clamped his mouth shut and shook his head.
“Alejandro, is this what you meant by ‘using’ me?”
He wouldn’t look at her. That all but confirmed it. He needed her to make the miracle happen. Despite everything, he had hope after all.
She took his hands. “That’s not using me. That’s survival.” She repeated his words and truly meant it.
“I thought that maybe your miracle could save us both.” He tilted his head up just enough to lock eyes with her. “But meeting you and finding bits and pieces of my memories and feelings. That’s enough of a miracle for me.”
The words took her breath away. The silence between them stretched, yet it felt like his eyes said so many things.
Things she didn’t quite understand. She wanted to stay like this and decipher all of it, but a small voice in her head told her this wasn’t the time.
They needed to survive first. “Does the person who gets the card win?”
“By then it’s usually down to multiple players needing one more card to completely fill their board. El Beso de la Fortuna is that card.”
“But that card’s not on my board. I don’t think it’s on Lo’s board either. D-doesn’t that mean we’re destined to lose?”
“No, no. That’s the magic of the card. It will always change the board to become the final card needed. I’ve never seen it show up the same way twice, but there is always a challenge or struggle in order to claim it.”
“Okay.” Mayté turned away, heart pounding.
This was the final piece to the puzzle. The way she would win.
But as quickly as her heart had soared, it plummeted when she remembered Carlos and even Dominic.
Would there be a way for them all to win?
“How powerful is the card?” she asked. “Is it possible for—”
The sight of something familiar cut off her words.
A framed photo of Senora Montoya along with her fan, cigarette holder, and jewelry. A rotting calavera wearing a scarlet hat sat on the table next to it. The same one that Misterioso had shown everyone during the second game. “These are the altars of the dead players?”
“And anyone else who has lost the game,” Alejandro said. “I’m sure mine is somewhere among them, but these”—he beckoned at the nearest shelf in front of them—“are the most recent. There’s also the card that bested them.” He pointed at the El Gorrito card next to Senora Montoya’s calavera.
Mayté studied the other photos. Was it wrong to look at them?
It felt like she was intruding on something sacred, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away.
Xiomara’s calavera was the color of the cheap jewelry from the street mercado.
Streams of dark blue were under the eyeholes like tears.
There were ledgers and contracts and coins surrounding her photo and calavera.
La Botella was the card lying next to them.
Mayté swallowed hard. Thinking about what had happened to Xiomara made her feel sick.
Then there was Rodrigo’s part of the altar.
El Valiente was the card lying next to his photo.
His calavera was cracked in places and brown and rotting.
The teeth were even worse, completely black in spots and pure gold in others.
He had his sombrero, along with other weapons and empty booze bottles, among his belongings.