The Inheritance of Orquídea Divina (91)

He shut his eyes, and something shimmered down his face. Were those tears? He made a strangled sound she took for “yes.”

Marimar didn’t want to touch his skin, but she gripped his jaw. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected but he was just skin and bone, slightly cold to the touch.

“On three,” she said, but sliced after she counted, “one.”

The Living Star doubled over, trembling as he ripped the thread from his lips and slid against the wall. He kept looking at her with eerie galaxy eyes.

“I wish you had not come,” he said darkly. There was something strange about his voice. It wasn’t like the man who’d attacked them at the Buenasuerte house—gruff and demanding. This man sounded like torn vocal cords, a soft tortured plea. She realized it was the one she’d heard in Four Rivers. Open the door, Marimar.

“A thank you would do, too,” Rey muttered.

“Why?” she asked, acid crept up her tongue. “Who are you?”

His gaze cut to Rey and Marimar. “You must go. He is searching for you now, but he will come back to take more of my power. He will use me to hurt you.”

She glanced back, but they were still alone. “Tell me everything. Tell me the truth.”

“You are as stubborn as she was.”

“Orquídea?” Marimar asked, even though she knew. She knew.

He rubbed at the spot right over his heart, like there was a hollow there, one that matched her own. He shut his eyes and wiped at the blood trickling from the punctures around his lips, and when he smiled his mouth looked like a pomegranate split in half.

“No, you are as stubborn as Pena,” he said, glancing at the skylight like he was waiting for someone. He breathed deeply and spoke like he’d lose the words if he stopped. “My name is Lázaro. You are our daughter. This is not how I wanted you to know me. Forgive me. Forgive me. Now you must go.”

Rey placed a hand on Marimar’s shoulder, but she only stared at the broken creature at her feet. Her father. The shining light, the missing piece, the question she’d thought she needed an answer to. He was before her. She felt the thorns within her, the rage she didn’t know she possessed. Mostly, she felt like she was hovering at the edge of a chasm and the only way out of this was to jump.

“You’re my father,” she said, mostly because if it came from her lips, it would be true.

Lázaro winced and touched the ripped skin around his mouth. Rhiannon crouched on her knees and brought out a bottle of water from her backpack and offered it to him.

“Here,” she said.

Lázaro took it and his features twisted into a deep well of gratitude, like someone who had never been shown kindness. The Living Star gulped the water in a single breath, sloshing it down his chin and washing away the blood. “Thank you.”

“You killed her,” Marimar said. “You killed all of them. You hunted us and now we’re here.”

Lázaro staggered to his feet. He nodded, slow tears spilled over the mound of his cheekbones where they froze, crystalized, and fell in sharp clinks to the floor.

Marimar choked on her words and only managed a soft, “Why?”

“I did love her.”

“I didn’t ask if you loved her. I asked why you did it.”

“Is it not obvious?” Lázaro asked, stepping closer to Marimar. He tried to memorize the shape of her eyes, the color of her hair, her spirit so much like her mother’s. “Because he wished it. I do not want to hurt you, but I will if he makes me.”

The room rumbled. The four of them looked up at the ceiling. A shadow eclipsed the moon for a moment, and then it was gone.

“Marimar?” Rhiannon asked. She pulled out a tiny red ember from her pocket and hissed as it fell on the floor, turning black then white.

“Is that Isabela’s bone?” Marimar asked.

Rhiannon kissed the tiny blister on the palm of her hand. “It was Isabela’s bone.”

Rey raised his brows and examined the digit his great-grandmother had gifted him. “She did say it would protect us.”

Lázaro gave a cracked, rumbling laugh. “You are keeping him out.”

“Who is he? What is this place?” Rey asked.

“I cannot tell you,” Lázaro said. “He forbade me.”

“Did he forbid you from telling me, or just Marimar?”

Lázaro sucked in a tiny breath of realization. His eyes grew bright for the first time in so long, like the stars had returned to the black skies of his irises. “Just her.”

“Then, look at me,” Rey said. “Direct your answers at me or Rhiannon.”

Lázaro nodded. “There is too much to say.”

“Who locked you in here?”

“Bolívar Londo?o,” he said.

Rey and Marimar exchanged terrified glances. Rey shook his head. “He didn’t die in the fire. How?”

Lázaro shook his head. “Everything went wrong that night. Orquídea and I had a bargain. I would share my power with her in exchange for my freedom. But she arrived too early, distraught. When I opened my soul to her, she did not stop. I felt her fear, pain, and anger. Overwhelmed me with them. And then she left. She did leave me the key to my chains, and my ring. But I was weak. She took too much. The circus was engulfed in smoke and flames. A beam fell on me, pinned me down, and who should find me but Bolívar.”