Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
Mayté
This wasn’t real.
The other croupiers released Alejandro. He dropped onto the floor, a bloodied dagger in his chest.
This was a terrible nightmare.
Mayté knew she would wake up and thank Dios that none of it was real. She would wake up. She had to. But the longer she stood there, looking between Lo and the boy she cared for, the more it sank in.
Lo had stabbed Alejandro. She had killed him.
Mayté screamed.
Misterioso backed away, hissing curses under his breath.
“Wh-wh-why?” Mayté’s lips wobbled.
“It was the only way to save you,” Lo responded.
Mayté dropped to her knees and crawled over to Alejandro. A pool of blood had already formed around him. His face twisted in pain and his chest heaved. She didn’t know what to do. An icy shock flowed through her. Even her tears felt cold as they dripped down her cheek.
Alejandro! No one was trying to help him. Why weren’t they?
The elevator doors opened and the Banker stepped out, face extra pale. He didn’t spare a glance at the bloody sight before him. “She’s amused. She wants to push up the final round.” With a sigh, he shook his head. “Someone clean this mess up.” He headed back for the elevator.
“Go with him. All of you,” Lo ordered Misterioso and the other croupiers with a growl. Even without the magic of La Corona, they obeyed. After they left, Lo herself sauntered to the elevator without looking back.
Carlos and Dominic remained, yet Mayté barely noticed them.
The rest of the gambling den blurred around her until all she could see was Alejandro.
With a sob, she folded herself over him.
It didn’t matter that blood stained her robe and nightgown.
“A-Alejandro …?” If she could race back to Carlos’s suite, perhaps there was a little bit of Dominic’s potion. “I have a bit of Dedo de Dios.”
“No,” Alejandro said, voice soft. He grabbed her hand, squeezing it: his fingers felt weak. “Stay … with me …” Tears coated his dark lashes. His lips twitched into a smile. Even as the life gradually dulled from his hazel eyes, they were still as beautiful as ever.
“Win … the game … be … happy.”
“NO!” Mayté sobbed and pressed his hand against her cheek. His knuckles felt cold.
They were supposed to leave together.
All of the could-have-beens swirled through her mind.
Beautiful, but faded as the harsh grays of reality overtook them.
They would never get to step into Milagro together.
She would never get to show him the beautiful sunrise and the way the soft amber and pink hues painted over the distant mountains.
He would never taste elote fresh off the grill or pick out a colorful serape to drape over the grass as the two of them lounged in the fountain garden.
They would never make art together or know what could have happened between them outside of this hellish place.
All of their beautiful hopes and wishes were now tainted with blood.
Alejandro tried to stroke her cheek, but his arm fell. He stiffened. He was gone. Dead.
Mayté took Alejandro’s hand and pressed it against her cheek. “NO,” she whispered.
There was nothing she could do to get him back.
She sat there with him, not knowing how much time had passed. It could have been a few minutes or several hours, but soon she heard footsteps. It wasn’t Carlos and Dominic come to comfort her. No.
“Senorita, we need to—”
“NO!” She laid herself on top of Alejandro, holding him tight. They weren’t going to take him away. She wouldn’t allow it.
But she was powerless. They easily pulled her up and dragged her into the elevator.
“Don’t touch her!” Carlos snapped, but the workers restrained him and Dominic, forcing them into the elevator as well.
A scream tore through Mayté’s raw throat. “ALEJANDRO!”
The doors closed.
Mayté stayed in the elevator, curled up on the floor.
Carlos and Dominic tried to console her, but she barely heard them.
Soon the workers returned and dragged her back into the gaming den, now cleaned and sterilized.
But Mayté remembered what had happened here.
She would never forget. As soon as they released her, she crumpled to the floor, where she remained and bitterly wept.
Dominic knelt next to her and hugged her tight. Her throat was too hoarse to sob anymore. All she could do was squeeze her eyes shut.
“Damn them,” Carlos spat.
“To El Infierno,” Dominic agreed before glancing over his shoulder at the figure who had just entered the room.
Mayté bristled when she caught sight of a black gown lingering near the gaming table. She was here. Lo. Mayté couldn’t bear to look at her.
Dominic held Mayté tight.
“Why? Why would Dios allow this to happen?” Mayté rasped.
“I don’t know,” Dominic whispered. He suddenly burst into hacking coughs. A painful kind full of wheezing.
Bright red blood stained his hand and dribbled down the corner of his mouth.
“Dominic …” Mayté looked at him. A ring of purple accentuated his puffy, bloodshot eyes. His cheeks looked sunken and feverish, and his brown skin had lost its golden glow.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “It always happens at the worst time …”
“What? What’s going on?”
“I didn’t come here for riches or to make Lorena my bride.” He hacked into his hands, and let out a gasping breath. He held up both hands, soaked with bright red blood. “I’m dying.”
Mayté froze and Carlos’s eyes widened.
Lo stood still.
“D-dying?” Mayté whispered.
Dominic nodded and wiped his hand with his handkerchief.
“It’s been almost a year. No one knows what’s wrong.
We’ve tried the best doctors in San Solera, the most well-known curanderas who reside in the district.
Not even the most powerful potions work for long.
I brought along Dedo de Dios in hopes that it would hold off my fits until my wish was granted, but even that has stopped working.
And now, it’s worse than it’s ever been. ” He spit out more blood.
Mayté’s eyes filled with fresh tears.
A butler approached. She wouldn’t have paid him a second thought, but Dominic and Carlos stared hard at him, a look of horror growing on their faces. When Mayté looked again, she understood why.
It was Antonio, the shopkeeper. There were many reasons she didn’t recognize him.
For one, he had his hair slicked back, and his mustache was trimmed, but most of all it was the vacant look in his eye.
He didn’t stare at Mayté with contempt. Now he looked like a lifeless doll.
Did he remember who he had been mere hours ago?
Misterioso and the Banker walked into the gaming den, trailed by a woman. Mayté choked. She had the same bouncy brown curls and lithe frame as Lo’s mother.
Lo hissed and looked away.
“Welcome to our final round,” Misterioso announced, a tense undertone in his words. “Gracing us with her presence is our supreme Gamemaker, Loretta de León.” His grin twisted into a sneer.
Mayté felt even more numb and empty than before.
Loretta de León.
They had all thought she was dead. Lo had been right all along.
The shopkeeper pulled out a chair for Loretta. With a satisfied smirk, she sat down, crossed her legs, and rested her chin in her hand. Like a queen sitting atop her throne. The true reina del Beso de la Fortuna.
“May San Fortuno show you favor,” she drawled.
The woman Mayté had grown up around had seemed so kind and loving. But she had been here in this place for so long. She was cold, flat, bored. The house must have corrupted her.
Just like it had somehow corrupted Lo.
“For our final round, our remaining contestants will play until someone fills their entire board. But beware, the cards have become even more dangerous.” Misterioso spoke playfully, as if they were children and he was warning them about El Cucuy.
“Let us see how you four fare, shall we? Once again, your wagers are your souls. Good luck.”
This was it. The final round. Deep down, Mayté had always known she would make it this far, and yet, and yet, this wasn’t how she had imagined it at all.
She couldn’t even bring herself to look at Lo.
Instead, she walked over to Dominic and helped him to his seat.
She gave Carlos’s arm a light squeeze. She made a silent vow.
She would do anything she could to keep anyone else from dying.
And it was clear that she would have to do that without Lo’s help.
Mayté took a shaky breath and wiped the tears from her eyes. The only available seat was one next to Lo. She took it, and focused on the Banker as he stepped to the center of the table and shuffled the cards. His downcast eyes were the same color as the ocean during a storm.
Lo ignored Mayté and stared directly at him. “You knew about Loretta this entire time. You were working for her. Played me for a fool.” Her tone wasn’t accusing. No, her voice was devoid of any emotion.
The Banker frowned as if he wanted to say something, but changed his mind.
Instead, he began drawing cards. It felt like a surreal blur.
All Mayté could truly focus on was filling her board.
There was La Campana, which caused a loud bell to ring.
The sound echoed against her already throbbing skull.
Then there was El Coraje. The strange card depicted a flaming heart with two disembodied hands underneath.
A blast of heat erupted from the card washing over everyone at the table.
Mayté’s heart slammed against her ribcage as dizzying adrenaline made her want to fly out of her seat.
Surely this card represented anger. Thoughts of Alejandro, Lo, and all the injustices of the house consumed her, but she couldn’t become reckless.
Dominic frowned and Carlos squeezed a handful of beans—everyone at the table had something to be angry about—yet Lo sat calmly.
“This is getting a bit boring, hmm?” A twisted grin formed on Loretta’s gorgeous face. “Misterioso, I hope the other rounds you hosted haven’t been so dull.”
This earned a glare from Misterioso. There was something between the two of them.
A power struggle of sorts. Misterioso was the face of Fortune’s Kiss.
The one who guided everyone to their damnation, while Loretta ruled from the shadows.
They were both equally wicked, but in different ways, and it seemed Misterioso didn’t want Loretta’s darkness to dull his spotlight.
Loretta’s smile grew as she clearly relished his anger. “Let’s liven it up, shall we? I suggest you hold on to your hats.”
“El Abysmo,” the Banker called and held up a card.
Mayté didn’t have the chance to fully study the purple card before a strong wind rushed around the room.
In the center, a void opened, pulling objects toward it and sucking them inside.
A black hole.
Mayté gripped the table and held on tight.