The contestants flew from their seats.A shrill scream erupted.It took a second for Lo to realize it was her own.The Banker casually blotted his face with a handkerchief.His cold gaze flicked to Lo, before he turned away.
Mayté stared at Señora Montoya’s body.No, her corpse.Mayté’s body trembled and her eyes filled with tears.
If Lo hadn’t stopped her, it would’ve been Mayté on the floor, head cleanly severed.Her heart raced faster than it ever had before.Her stomach fluttered and she wanted to vomit.She stumbled back into Carlos, who steadied her.Lo’s heart pounded so hard.Carlos spoke fast and frantically, but she couldn’t make out his words.
“And there we have it,” Misterioso said, holding both hands out like a performer.“Maríana Montoya wageredeverything, which of course includes her life.”
This is not a game.This is el infierno, Lo thought.It was the only explanation.She was being punished for killing her father.
Fortune’s Kiss was supposed to fix everything, but now it would be their damnation.
SEVENMayté
Mayté didn’t remember when or how she got on the floor.Maybe her legs gave out on her, or maybe she chose to sit.It didn’t matter.Not when everything else erupted into pure chaos.People around her screamed, sobbed, and shouted, but the silence from the croupiers was even louder.They draped a blanket over Señora Montoya’s body.Her headless corpse.Where had her head even gone?Mayté stopped herself from looking.She didn’t want to know.The croupiers carried Señora Montoya’s body off as if she were a freshly killed mule deer.The rest of them ambled about, quietly sweeping up the beans from the floor and table, while others started washing away the blood.
Fortune’s Kiss wasn’t a castle of dreams gilded in gold, it was an altar dripping with blood, and the eleven—now ten—contestants were sacrificial offerings.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
“Please, señor!”Xiomara yelled at Misterioso, burgundy lips quivering.Almost as stark as the spatters of blood on her cheek.“I don’t want to play anymore!”
Misterioso clicked his tongue and lifted a hand.Not even the smallest drop of blood stained his suit.“It’s Misterioso, and unfortunately, you’ve made a commitment to see this through … until the end.”
The end.Those two simple words filled Mayté’s veins with ice.
“We didn’t know what kind of game this would be!”a man snapped.
“Y-you can’t just force us to stay,” another man joined in.
Mayté had recognized them the moment she sat down at the table.The first man was the awful owner of the paint shop, while the other was Señor Vásquez, the owner of the elote stand.She felt almost numb to this discovery.The day she crossed paths with both of them was also the day Fortune’s Kiss had returned.
That day, they were all damned.
“I’m afraid you’ve already paid the entry fee.There is nothing we can do.”
“No!You can’t hold us all hostage!”The shopkeeper bolted past Misterioso straight for the elevators.He pounded the button, but the doors wouldn’t open.He whirled around, dark eyes wild.His wiry mustache and beard had taken the brunt of the blood.
“Hostage?You came here willingly.”Misterioso chuckled, unfazed.How many times had he gone through this with past contestants?“Trust me when I say if you fold now, you will leave in a much worse state than Maríana Montoya.”
“THIS IS MADNESS!”the shopkeeper screamed.
Mayté would have welcomed the opportunity to see that stingy weasel in distress, if her own stomach hadn’t been churning.
The shopkeeper pleaded with the other croupiers.“Can’t you see how terrible this is?”When they ignored him, he turned to the Banker, who looked quite upset—at the blood staining his suit.“Please!If you have any heart at all, tell him to let us go!”
The Banker tossed aside a bloodied handkerchief.“Nothing I can do about it, señor.This is the game.You’d do well to play your hardest, and pray you win.”
The shopkeeper backed away, trembling.Mayté’s own fingers wouldn’t stop shaking and her chest was tighter than the corsets she used to wear.What had she done?Why had she come here?Her heart twisted in her chest.Why had she brought that poster to Lo?
Lo.
As if a curse had broken, Mayté searched for her best friend.She stood up on shaky legs, only to find herself face-to-face with Carlos.
He touched her arm.“Are you ok—”
“Don’t!”She wrenched away.It didn’t matter that everyone was staring, because among them stood Lo.She was the bloodiest of all.Splatters of bright red covered her slip like rose petals on fresh snow.She stared, unblinking, at the spot where the death had happened.
Without a word, Mayté rushed over and hugged her tight.It didn’t matter that they were both drenched in sweat, or that they trembled like newborn pups.Mayté wasn’t sure if she felt Lo’s racing heart, or if it was her own heart throbbing erratically.“Thank you,” she choked.“Thank you for not letting me play that horrific game.”
