“My stars, boy. You must be the clumsiest person in Abundancia.” He smacked Lalo’s back, but again, Lalo didn’t flinch.
Lalo wiped at his eyes. “It would appear so, señor. Tell me, where might I clean myself off?”
“Right through the corridor,” Mamá said kindly, almostsorrowfully. She always cringed when people made clowns of themselves.
He turned to his sister with a tight smile. “Won’t you join me,Fernanda?”
Fernanda tilted her head and fluttered her lashes. “I’m sure you can manage on your own.”
“I must insist,” he said through his teeth.
“And I must decline.”
His eyes narrowed at her, but then he gave a nervous laugh. “My sister, she…she is good with stains.”
“I bet she is, sanguijuela,” Carolina whispered under her breath.
Nena elbowed Carolina in the ribs and gave her a warning that said,shut up before you get yourself, and me, in trouble.
Lalo excused himself and dashed away before she had a chance to attack. Her feet ached to pursue him. But she had to play this levelheadedly. She couldn’t run after some handsome young stranger. What a scandal that would cause.
She surveyed the ballroom, searching for some explanation to step away from her parents, Rafa, Nena, and Lalo’s sister. Then inspiration struck.
“Amá,” she said. “I just saw Luisa walking into the gardens.”
Mamá’s jaw dropped. Luisa was one of their milk goats. The damn thing escaped every chance she got, heading straight for Mamá’s flowers without fail.
“I’ll get the stable hand,” Mamá said.
“No! I’ll get Luisa. She likes me,” Carolina lied. She and Luisa hadn’t seen eye to eye since Luisa ate Carolina’s favorite slippers last year.
“Perdón,” she said with a bow.
“But…,” Fernanda started before stopping herself.
There was nothing for her to say, nothing to do to keep Carolina away from her brother. Carolina nearly cackled in triumph.
“I’ll be back in just a moment,” she said.
She winked at Nena, who took the cue and brought up the topic of this year’s prized calves. The bull steers were rumored to catch a high price, and that fact was a particularly favorite subject of Papá’s to speak about.
Carolina slithered away, weaving through the crowd of partygoers to hunt after a goat that wasn’t truly there. Ready to stick her stake into the heart of the sediento she’d invited.
From the journal of Jonathan Monroe of Santemala
June 1, 1709
I have done the unthinkable.
In my desperation to bring my daughter back from the dead, I made a deal with a trickster god and brought a curse upon my family. I sliced my palm and placed my blood on her grave.
I invoked Tecuani.
Now, day and night, my daughter screams because her belly won’t fill. She cannot stand the sunlight. Boils form. She will not drink water from the parish’s well to ease her soul. She suffers because of me.
I must seek out our priests to see what can be done.
CHAPTER 9
