When she placed the second stone, she didn’t think of blackmail, or her parents.
She thought of Mateo, and how no amount of privilege or safety was worth letting him win.
13
While your family comes first, your community will be a source of strength. Be loyal to them, and they will return the favor.
—Medio School for Girls Handbook, 14th edition
AFTER THE EVENTS OF THE previous night, the last thing Dani felt like doing was getting dressed up and attending a Primera salon. But as Mateo had so often reminded them, the schedule was not a suggestion.
She had barely escaped disaster in that office. Tonight, she would have to be perfect. In the car on the way there, she took deep, steadying breaths, relishing the few moments she had to herself.
To think I spent years in school looking forward to my first salon, she thought, almost smiling at the image of that naive girl. The one who would never have dreamed her top priority at her first all-Primera event would be to watch her mark for signs that she suspected something.
The same mark who had told her what to expect from a salon just last year . . .
Dani shook herself as the car pulled into the steep driveway. Nostalgia wasn’t helpful for a spy or a Primera. Watch Jasmín, and don’t raise suspicion, she told herself as the car stopped. There was no room for anything else tonight.
The Soto house was similar in size and scope to Dani’s own, though the stone was a deep blue, the roof tiles dazzlingly white in the moonlight. Inside, the floor plan was open, blue walls set off by accents of sun-bright yellow and the occasional crimson.
Everyone congregated in the informal living room, trays of appetizers on tables and sparkling rosé wine beside the customary clay jugs of sangria.
“Good evening, Primera!” said Ana Soto, another of Dani’s old classmates. “So glad you could be here tonight.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it,” Dani assured her, moving through several more greetings, careful not to display her impatience until she finally caught sight of Jasmín.
Her hair was shoulder length and smooth, her dress a deep red almost daring for a Primera, even a young one. But most importantly, she seemed undisturbed, a glass of wine the same color as her dress resting between relaxed fingers as she laughed at some joke, tossing back her head.
Dani felt her shoulders relax a fraction of an inch. Jasmín was safe. Laughing. Enjoying the evening. All she had to do now was keep her distance. Watch, but not get too close.
“Good evening, Daniela,” said a voice from behind her. She turned to find herself face-to-face with the elder Señora Garcia, who held water instead of wine and pursed her lips as a shorter-than-strictly-appropriate hemline passed her on the way to the appetizer table.
“Good evening to you as well, señora.” She offered her hand to her mother-in-law for a firm handshake. “Having a good time?”
“Oh, yes. After the four hundredth salon, they only get more thrilling.”
Dani smiled and grabbed a glass of iced lemon water from a passing tray. Señora Garcia looked around the room, and for a moment Dani thought back to Jasmín at the dinner party, the way she’d felt safe telling her mother everything, no matter how bad it seemed.
As difficult as it was to imagine her own mama here, Dani found her in everything Señora Garcia was not. In the harsh angles of her posture and the slight downward turn of her mouth. In the way she seemed to repel confidence rather than inviting it.
“Now don’t waste your time lurking in this corner with an old woman; go on and mingle,” the señora said. “Is that a friend of yours over there waving?”
Dani’s smile felt painted on. Of course it was Jasmín waving, just after she’d decided to give her a wide berth tonight. And was it just Dani’s imagination, or was there an extra edge in Señora Garcia’s voice?
“Oh. Yes, Jasmín. We were roommates at school, though I don’t know her well.”
Did she raise her eyebrow higher? Was she skeptical? “Well, I suppose now’s your chance, isn’t it?”
“Yes, señora,” Dani said. “Thank you; enjoy the party.”
Walk normally, she told herself as she headed for Jasmín. Not too fast, not too slow.
“Jasmín,” Dani said as she reached the other girl, still feeling—or imagining—the señora’s eyes on her back. “Lovely to see you.” As Jasmín shook her hand, Dani watched her closely for anything that would betray an undercurrent of tension. But Jasmín was a Primera, too. There was nothing but her smile.
“How have you been?” asked Jasmín when they’d dropped each other’s hands. “How’s life with Carmen Santos?” There was a smirk on her lips Dani wasn’t quite sure how to interpret, so she merely shrugged.
“She chatters constantly, but other than that she’s no more than I expected.”
Jasmín’s eyes glinted with mischief. “You’re very diplomatic as usual,” she said. “But I remember Carmen from school, and I’m quite sure that’s not the whole story.”
Try as she might to keep the mask in place, a rueful smile broke through Dani’s armor, Jasmín’s comments bringing back the fitting, and Carmen’s strange remarks about their time in school. After Mateo’s performance in the office, she’d had little time to dwell on it.
Jasmín laughed triumphantly. “I knew it,” she said. “I know you won’t tell me a word of it, you bore, but let’s at least get you a drink to take the sting out of whatever she’s done.”
On their way to the bar, Dani felt the prickling feeling of being watched fade away. She wondered what it would feel like to really talk to Jasmín. About the fitting, and Carmen’s confession, about the way Dani had begun to look for Carmen in the hallways. About the idea that, despite it all, she wanted to know the Segunda better. To figure out what she was hiding in those mysterious smiles . . .
It was nice to forget Mateo’s threats for a moment. To think about something that made her smile instead of shake.
“Well, if you won’t talk, I will,” Jasmín said, pulling Dani toward the wall nearest the front door, where she slumped dramatically. “My Segunda has taken to discussing the future of our husband’s career with him! As if that’s not a gross breach of our responsibility divide.”
Tongue loosened by wine, Dani exclaimed in offense. “Who does she think she is?” she asked. “Did she take too many naps in school? We learned that the first day!”
Jasmín nearly choked on surprised laughter. “We need to get many, many more of these in you,” she said, tapping at Dani’s wineglass with an unpolished fingernail. “You’re much funnier when you relax. I feel cheated that I didn’t think to feed you wine years ago.”
Despite herself, Dani laughed. Jasmín had enough stories about her awful Segunda to keep them laughing into their glasses, and the house staff milling around didn’t seem content to let either of those glasses stay empty.
So lost in their conversation were they, Dani and Jasmín didn’t hear the first knock at the front door.
The second was impossible to miss.
This was not the polite knock of a latecomer to the party but the loud, large-fisted knock of someone on a mission. Conversations around them sputtered and stalled. All eyes followed the young Señora Soto as she crossed to the door, shrugging her shoulders at anyone who raised an eyebrow.
A numbness had started to creep through Dani: a reaction to the pounding, the whispers, the fear. She remembered knocks like those from her childhood. The ones that would send her diving beneath the blankets while her father walked stiffly toward the front of the house.
Ana Soto answered the door, pretending the attention of every Primera in the room wasn’t on her. Dani didn’t lose her breath until she saw the silhouettes of two military officers standing in the dark outside, and the slimmer figure of her husband between them, stepping into the light.
She should have known she wouldn’t be able to escape him. Even for an hour.
The whispers caught like an oil-soake
d wick, but Dani didn’t take her eyes off Mateo. Whatever was happening here, he was at the center of it, and if the cold determination on his face was any indication, it was nothing good.
She could feel Jasmín tensing beside her, ripples forming in her wine as her fingers trembled on the stem. Dani forced herself not to look, terrified she’d give something away with her eyes. She was a politely curious Primera, she told herself, in no danger of course, though she’d been placed slightly on edge by the presence of armed officers at a salon. Who wouldn’t be?
Even though her heart was a faulty engine in her chest, she had to remember that to Daniela Garcia, Primera to the capital’s most up-and-coming politico, the police were allies, keeping her safe from the threat beyond the wall.
“Isn’t that your husband?” Jasmín whispered as Mateo stepped the rest of the way into the entry hall and spoke in hushed tones to Ana. His cold expression had thawed, replaced by fake concern that was visible from across the room.
Dani felt ill. “Yes,” she said lightly. “Though I can’t imagine what he’s doing here.” Or which one of us he’s here to arrest. The moment the thought had landed, it took flight again, along with Dani’s vision of the secret cabinet left unlocked beneath his desk. Mateo’s image was at the forefront of his motivations. Should his wife be involved in a scandal, the last thing he’d want would be to handle it publicly.
“Curious,” Jasmín said, a beat too late, and Dani chanced a look at her. There was something more than polite interest woven into her mask, and after five years at the Medio School for Girls, Dani knew just how to read it.
Fear, in the slight widening of her eyes. Determination, in the set of her jaw.
Dani clearly wasn’t the only person here who knew something she shouldn’t.
“I should go talk to him,” Dani said. “Find out what’s going on . . .” But before she could finish the thought, Mateo nodded regretfully to Señora Soto and began to walk toward them. Without even a beckoning gesture, the officers accompanied him, hulking shadows that made Dani shiver.
Compared to the ruthlessness in every line of Mateo’s face, the large men looked almost tame.
“Ladies,” he said, as though he needed to address them to get their attention. No one had said a word since he’d stepped inside, too consumed with trying to overhear his low conversation with their hostess. “I’m so sorry to interrupt your party, but I’m afraid we have some business to attend to.” He gestured to the men flanking him.
Dani was holding her breath, she realized dimly, but she couldn’t seem to let go of it.
“Jasmín Flores, will you please step forward?”
Glancing sideways at the girl who was not quite her friend, Dani tried to look innocent, surprised, giving up her own gods for the moment and beseeching Constancia, who had apparently marked her a Primera at birth, not to let her fail. “What’s this all about?” she asked, but Jasmín only shook her head, her mouth a grim line as she stepped toward the men waiting for her.
I’m sorry, Dani thought. I’m so, so sorry. There had been no time for Jasmín’s señora to find a solution, and when Sota learned Dani’s information he must have decided mere social ostracization wasn’t good enough. This was her fault. She felt it in her bones. This was the price Jasmín would pay for telling her señora about the blackmail. For trusting that the hallway was empty when the enemy was lurking just out of sight.
It was the same thing Sota had threatened Dani with, in the beginning. A threat that still hung over her head every moment. She would obey, and keep her mouth shut, or the Median government would find out where her papers came from.
This was what it looked like when you disobeyed.
The officers moved to meet Jasmín, taking her by the wrists as Mateo spoke in a voice loud enough for anyone in the room to hear him clearly. “Señora Flores, you are charged with rebel sympathizing, and with passing information to spies from across the border. You will be remanded immediately into custody for questioning, and to await formal charges of treason.”
Jasmín didn’t struggle. She didn’t even appear to hear him. Her eyes were closed, and her face looked almost peaceful. It was a mark of the seriousness of the situation that the room remained utterly silent.
Mateo, clearly looking to make a scene, wasn’t pleased with her response. “Did you hear me, Flores?” he asked, the chill in his voice deepening. “You’re a traitor to this country. You’re going to prison. Did you hear me?”
Jasmín didn’t speak. She didn’t even acknowledge him.
For a brief, mad moment, Dani wanted to applaud. But the look on Mateo’s face was nothing short of dangerous.
“Take her,” Mateo finally spat.
The officers whirled around with Jasmín hanging between them, looking impossibly small and bright in her red dress.
I will make this right, Dani thought, staring so hard at Mateo she wondered if he could feel it. One way or another. As long as it takes.
Now, finally, the whispers began.
“Do you think she really did it?”
“Even if she didn’t, it’s over for her.”
“Of course! Rodolfo can’t afford a Primera tainted by accusations . . .”
“Her poor father, he worked so hard.”
“Her poor madres, can you imagine the shame?”
Mateo lingered in the doorway, smirking, listening to the whispers of Jasmín’s dreams dying. As the officers dragged her past him, he stepped closer, and Dani recognized his posture. She’d been the victim of it just last night. The way he bent toward her, blocking out her vision, his body almost pressed against her own.
I own you now, his body language said. But Jasmín stood perfectly still. Dani moved to one side, desperate to hear what he was saying to her, but when his face came into view his mouth was still, a strange light dancing in his eyes. Something predatory and out of control.
“Looking forward to your cell, you traitorous bitch?” he asked with a sneer, pressing even closer. The officers held her limp wrists, looking away. Behind her, the Primeras were too busy buzzing with the scandal to hear him, but Dani read the shape of the quiet words on his lips.
Dani didn’t know if she was in the Sotos’ lounge or the dim light of Mateo’s office. Was that Jasmín’s ear he was whispering in, or her own? Her control slipped, and she moved toward him before she knew what she was doing. She couldn’t let him get away with it. With making another helpless person feel the way she had felt . . .
But before she could reach him, an iron hand clamped down on her upper arm and steered her toward the wall. “What on earth do you think you’re doing?” asked Señora Garcia. “I know the girl was your roommate, but this is not behavior befitting a Primera of your station.”
“Did you hear what he called her?” Dani asked, her heart still racing, her legs begging to carry her over to her sneering husband so she could give him a piece of her mind.
“Mateo is young, and . . . potentially overzealous,” his mother allowed. “But it is his job to root out sympathizers and punish them, Daniela, and it is your job to support him.”
Dani opened her mouth to argue again, but she stopped short at the look on Señora Garcia’s face.
“I’d like you to think very carefully about what happens next,” she said, her tone light as Jasmín disappeared into the darkness outside the door. “Either you charge out there like a madwoman and embarrass your husband and yourself while defending an accused sympathizer . . .” She paused, raising an eyebrow. “Or you turn around, have some fruit and cheese, and express your polite and bland sympathies about how things transpired here tonight.”
Dani didn’t say a word.
“I strongly suggest you choose the second option, Daniela.”
Then she was gone. Into the chattering crowd to take her own advice. And Dani, biting the inside of her cheek so hard she tasted blood, had no choice at all except to join her.
But as her body obeyed, her mind was racing. She wasn’t
certain she could trust Sota, or La Voz, and she had little enough power in this world with Mateo keeping her in the dark. But one way or another, Jasmín would be freed, and Mateo would pay.
Dani planned to make sure of it.
When Dani arrived home hours later, the entryway was quiet, the only light coming from the fireplace in the front room. Mateo had personally escorted Jasmín to her new four-by-four concrete home and still hadn’t returned. Dani didn’t let herself shut out the images of what she feared was happening now. About what she’d set in motion to keep her own secrets safe.
You don’t deserve to hide, she told herself. She would face it until she could fix it.
She’d been lost in thought in the entryway for a few minutes when footsteps sounded from the darkened hallway. Even amid her guilt and her determination, Dani’s traitorous heart leapt into her throat, trying to convince herself she wasn’t hoping for Carmen. The strange gravity of her situation had been reawakened by Jasmín’s questions tonight, but the silhouette that came into view wasn’t Carmen’s.
Dani froze along the wall of the front room, partially hidden by a glossy bookcase, as Mama Garcia came in, clutching a piece of paper to her chest.
Still unaware of Dani’s presence, she veered left to stand before the fireplace, lit against the unseasonal chill outside. She glanced once more at the page before tossing it into the flames. Muttering to herself, too low to hear from Dani’s vantage point, she walked out the front door and into the night.
With her natural suspicion kicking into overdrive, Dani stole quietly to the fireplace, where the paper Mama Garcia had tried to burn was only half in the flames. She pulled it out and blew frantically as the glow crawled along the paper’s edges, turning more and more of Mama Garcia’s secrets to ash. When it was finally extinguished, less than half of the page remained.
We Set the Dark on Fire Page 14
