She had never played the game like this.It felt raw.There was no hiding behind masks or the armor of flirtation.This was a risk that could very well backfire, but, after all, she had come here to gamble.
The Banker paused, halfway out of the room.Then, with a chuckle, he stepped back in and closed the door.“Oh?Is that so?”
“You see it, do you not?My potential.My wits.Mycharm.Or was it wrong of me to assume that you are not a fool?”
He smirked, icy eyes aglow with a hunger.A strange kind of hunger.Not one of lust, but of something else.What was his game?
“If you are so sure of yourself, why do you want me as an ally?What is it you think you need from me?”
“Lots of things.”Lo folded her arms.“Tell me: What is the secret to the game?”
He chuckled.“Did you not just say you were going to win?”
“Yes.And I would like to do it as quickly and easily as possible.”
He raised an eyebrow, but that must have been a good-enough answer.“I could never tell you how to win—it wouldmake the game far too short.”He paused.“María Teresa’s strategy seems to be working well for her.”
Lo bit back a gasp.He knew.But how?She could have asked, but no.“It’s not working for me,” she admitted instead.
“Are you sure about that?”He tugged at his cufflinks.“You willed the house to kill Montoya.”
“What?”Lo’s knees buckled.The beans Señora Montoya had counted had magically changed.She’d had nothing to do with it.
“Do you not recall whispering a prayer for her to lose?”The Banker smirked.“It was remarkable, really.I haven’t seen anyone do that so early in the game in quite a while.Of course, with powerful magic comes a price, and something like that costs quite a lot.”
Lo rubbed her temple and sat in the chair nearest the table.Is this why nothing after that moment had seemed to go her way?“Does this mean I’ll have hallucinations of my mother for the rest of the game?”
The Banker sat across from her.“You cling to the hope that your mother is here.Trapped and scared like a prisoner,” he mocked.“Yet everyone else around you is certain that she is dead or long gone.Do you truly think so many people could be wrong?”
Hearing her worst fears spoken aloud was more than Lo could take.“Don’t try to fool me.”She smacked her palms against the table, shaking the platter with her hidden lunch on it.“I know she’s here.”She hated the way her voice wavered.
The Banker leaned back in his chair, unfazed.“If finding her is what you desire most,ifyou survive, the house will surely show you the truth.Just be careful not to wishtoohard.You might find yourself in the afterlife.”
She might … Wait.Was he implying that Mamá truly was dead?It had to be a trick, right?“Wh-what do you—”
“Lorena, you talk about your mother, but didn’t you make a pact to leave with your little friend and the boy you fancy so?Neither of them knows just how focused you are on her, do they?”He watched her expectantly.“The house is not fond of indecisive people.”
Lo stiffened.She had come here for Mamá, but she had also come for Mayté.They had vowed to win together.And the idea of harm coming to Carlos made her sick with fear.Why did she have to choose?“I just don’t want to worry them, and surely there’s a way to get her backandwin.”
The Banker stood.
“Isthere a way?”she growled.
But he still ignored her.“I’ve grown bored.If you can think of another way to entertain me, come find me.”He opened the door, but then turned back.“You should eat that before it gets cold.”He slammed the door behind himself.
Lo frowned at the platter and lifted the lid.
Paella.Most of the dish was normal enough.Saffron rice, bright green limes, and salmon-pink prawns.Any other person wouldn’t have given it a second thought, but Lo did.The dish was missing something: mussels, their shells black as obsidian.
Mamá loved paella.She used to ask the cooks to make it at least once a week, but always requested that the mussels be left out, because she hated them.She found them odd and inconvenient to eat.Yet she never minded the prawns staring up at her with their beady black eyes.
Lo’s hands quaked.This was a sick joke.The Banker must have been in on it, delivering her mother’s favorite dish.
Another knock sounded at the door.She scrambled to answer it.Maybe it was the Banker wanting to see her reaction to the food.This time she would pull him into the room and not allow him to leave, until he gave her some answers.But when she opened the door, she found Carlos.
He leaned against the door frame, his dark eyes scanning the room.Displeasure pinched his flushed face.He reeked and was still clearly drunk from the liquor El Borracho had forced him to drink.Carlos wasn’t one for alcohol.He never took more than a few sips, always scrunching up his face and shaking his head before pushing the drink away.It was honestly impressive that he had managed to best El Borracho.“Where’s Mayté?”
“I’m not sure.”It was somewhat true.Lo didn’t know exactly where Mayté had ventured off to.
