“She’s not,” Carmen said, pleading. “I know what I said, okay? But things have changed. You have to trust me.”
Dani’s ears were still ringing. Every part of her hurt, somewhere under the shock. She felt invisible. Like she could scream at the top of her lungs and not interrupt whatever was playing out before her.
“The only thing that’s changed,” Alex said, looking between them with skepticism in every line of her face, “is that now you want to get under that prissy skirt of hers. I’m not risking the entire mission to be your wingman, Santos.”
This is a dream, Dani thought, her mind floating up above the trees where it was safe. This was a dream where Carmen and Alex knew each other, and they were debating over whether she lived or died in front of the dead bodies of José and Mama Garcia.
This is a dream, this is a dream, this is a dream.
“Can someone . . . ,” she said in a small voice, “please tell me what’s going on?”
Carmen looked at Alex, and her eyes were begging. It scared Dani more than anything else she’d seen tonight. The deference. The obvious familiarity.
“You have twenty seconds,” Alex said, backing away. But she still didn’t lower the gun.
“This is what I was trying to tell you in the car,” Carmen said in a rush, taking Dani’s limp, unresponsive hands in hers. “About how it started before I knew you. Dani, I’m . . . a member of La Voz. I have been since before I even started school.”
Dani didn’t reply, but she didn’t pull her hands away, and for a second she hated herself for it.
“I’m the one who let the protesters in before graduation,” Carmen whispered. “I was supposed to get placed with you, watch you, see if you flipped after Sota approached you. I’m so sorry, Dani, I wanted to tell you a hundred—”
“What did you tell her?” Dani asked, nodding at Alex, her voice flat and hollow.
“It was before, I swear,” Carmen said, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. “I stopped reporting once you and I . . .”
“What did you tell her?”
Carmen’s shoulders slumped. “I told them the first week that I didn’t think you had what it took. That you seemed conflicted. That I didn’t think we’d be able to win you over.”
Dani’s heart turned to solid, freezing stone in the humid night.
“But I was wrong,” she said, turning back to Alex. “She’s one of us. Please, Alex, you have to trust me. If you don’t, we lose the closest spy we’ve had in years. We need her. We can trust her. I swear . . .” She paused here, gathering her strength. “I swear on the tree.”
The words, nonsensical as they were to Dani, seemed to have an effect on Alex. She charged forward, pressing the cold metal of the pistol into Dani’s temple, no mercy in her face.
“Alex!” Carmen shrieked, the tears finally falling. “Please!”
Alex roared in frustration, and Dani was sure this was it. The last moment of her life. Her knees went weak, but she stayed standing. She looked at the stars. The gods there would welcome her.
But when the gun fired, there was no pain. Alex had turned and fired it into the burning car instead. Three times. Four. Emptying the magazine before turning back to Dani.
“You better be worth it,” she said. And then, to Carmen: “Let’s go.”
But Carmen ran to Dani, throwing her arms around her, trying to pull her close. There was a part of Dani, even now, that wanted to melt into her. But she had changed herself for Carmen. Given her the kind of trust she’d never given anyone. She had maybe even loved her. And Carmen had let her, even though she’d known all along that it was a lie.
Dani had never known her at all.
“You lied to me,” she said, surprised at how cold her voice could sound when every part of her was on fire.
“We lied to each other, querida,” Carmen said, trying to reach out and touch Dani’s face.
Dani turned her head. “So, was this how you were supposed to win me over?” she asked. “The poor, loveless Primera.”
Alex scoffed audibly from the other side of the car, throwing her leg over the bike. “I said let’s go!”
“Dani, no,” Carmen said, ignoring Alex. “You have to believe me. I never expected to fall for you. I wasn’t supposed to. That’s why I haven’t checked in for weeks. I didn’t know how to tell them. . . .”
“If you’re not on this bike in thirty seconds, this is all for nothing, Santos.”
“Give me a minute!” Carmen yelled, frustrated. “I have to explain plan A!”
“What does she mean?” Dani asked, hating the sinking feeling in her stomach. For a girl who had once thrived on control, she had never felt so helpless. “Thirty seconds until what? What’s plan A?”
Tears were now streaming freely down Carmen’s face, but Dani’s eyes were dry.
“I have to go back with them,” she said, her voice heavy with guilt. “I take the fall for tipping off the police to Mateo’s plan with the missing sympathizers, but by then I’m gone. Protected. It takes the suspicion off you and pushes you two closer together. So he’ll trust you. You can find out what they’re planning next. Dani, I’m so, so sorry, I never wanted—”
“What was plan B?” Dani interrupted, her voice metal and ice.
Carmen trailed off, looking at the ground.
“I’m not cut out for the job, and you shoot me right here? Is that it?”
She didn’t reply, and it was all the answer Dani needed. She had wondered for weeks whether Carmen would be responsible for her death, but this was a configuration of players she had never even imagined.
“NOW, Santos!” Alex revved the bike again, louder this time.
“Dani, I’m so sorry, please. Know that I never wanted to hurt you. Everything I felt for you . . . feel for you, is real.”
But she was backing away.
“You have to get back to the house. Tell them everything you saw. Tell them it was me, and you were knocked out in the blast, and you woke up alone.”
“Carmen,” Dani said, though she hadn’t given herself permission. Absurdly, through all her anger, there were tears leaving streaks in the soot on her face. “Wait.”
“Sota will be in touch soon with new instructions,” Carmen choked out, one leg already over the bike, her hands hooking around Alex’s waist to stabilize her.
This, somehow, felt like the worst betrayal.
“We’ll get you out of there soon,” she said, backlit and ethereal in the motorcycle’s single headlight, her skirt whipping in the exhaust from its tailpipe. “Trust me. Please trust me. We’ll see each other again.”
And then she was putting on the helmet Alex handed her, and the growl of the engine was too loud to hear over, and Dani could do nothing but watch as the two of them disappeared in a haze of red light and smoke.
The wreckage of the car was everywhere, and destroyed among it was everything Dani had known for certain ten minutes before. If there had been bodies, they were hidden, or weren’t recognizable as bodies anymore.
Mama Garcia and José were dead.
An innocent man, whose only crime had been picking up the wrong passengers in his car for hire, was dead.
The cause Dani had believed in, had sacrificed everything for, had been willing to put a bullet in her head without a second’s hesitation.
Every bone in her body was sore and aching; fever radiated from her burn through the rest of her, unchecked.
Carmen was gone. Carmen was someone else. Someone Dani had never known.
And still, if she wanted to survive, the only thing to do was to put one foot in front of the other. To make it home, to whatever was waiting for her there.
Dani took the first step up the mountain. Strong enough to take the pain and shape whatever came next, just as she’d always done.
Alone, but alive.
Broken, but free.
Acknowledgments
This road to publishing this book has been a long one, paved with pep talk
s and tears, tacos and wine and excited shrieks. If I have shared even one of those things with you, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. A (not-remotely-exhaustive) list:
To my agent and friend, Jim McCarthy. You believed in this book, and in me, before even the beginning, and you have stood by me and with me so many, many times since. I will never stop being grateful to you.
Claudia Gabel, Stephanie Guerdan, copy editor Jessica White, and the incredible team at Katherine Tegen Books. You saw a spark in this story and helped me fan it into a flame. Thank you for your support, your expert eyes, and your patience with my infinite (seriously, infinite) questions.
To my magical cover artist, Cristina Pagnoncelli, who brought the book to life with her vision. It took my breath away from the first sketch, and I’m so proud that it’s the first thing people see when they pick up this story.
To my family. Blood and chosen.
My writing comadres, who have blown me away with their empathy, their wisdom, their talent, and their superpowers. You are all magic, and this book and I would be nowhere without you. Nic Stone, for being the first person to read this book and see something worth working for. Meagan Rivera, for early reads and candles and crushes and everything in between. Michelle Ruiz Keil, for tarot and philosophy and endless phone yarning into the small hours. For reminding me to be proud. Nina Moreno, for seeing my heart. For the being the moon and magia del mar and chisme for days.
The Chicas Malas! Lily Anderson, my fierce mama bear, who lets me get away with being petty, but never with making myself small. Anna-Marie McLemore, my sister in fever dreams and fairy tales and all the places they meet. Candice. Amanda. Montgomery. For everything. My sunflower. My best friend. You already know.
To Sam, who gave me the best thing in my life. Who taught me in a million ways (some intentional, some not) to tune out the noise and trust the work—trust myself.
My grandparents, for believing that I was as tall as the stars I reached for. My mama, Dyanne, for weathering my sorrows and triumphs, for believing I could do it before I did. My dads: Bill—for grounding me, for being my shelter in the storm, and Jeff—for teaching me all my favorite ten-dollar words, for showing me how a book fit in my little hands.
My brothers: Brenden, for reminding me to find joy even when it’s elusive. Brad, for seeing the kind of world I want to live in. Dominic, for my soundtracks, for getting it, even when I don’t.
My sisters: Auburn, who treats my dreams like they’re already realities, who always knows what to say. Jade, my first friend, who’s never afraid to dig deeper, who taught me to be fierce even when you’re trembling.
And last, but never least: to my daughter. For giving me a reason to reach. For reminding me why I’m here. For teaching me more in these short years than I’ll be able to teach you in a lifetime. I love you, querida. Forever and ever and . . .
About the Author
Courtesy Tehlor Kay Mejia
TEHLOR KAY MEJIA is an author and Oregon native in love with the alpine meadows and evergreen forests of her home state, where she lives with her daughter. When she’s not writing, you can find her plucking at her guitar, stealing rosemary sprigs from overgrown gardens, or trying to make the perfect vegan tamale. Her short fiction has appeared in the All Out and Toil & Trouble anthologies from Inkyard Press / Harlequin Teen. We Set the Dark on Fire is her first novel. You can find her on Twitter @tehlorkay.
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Copyright
Katherine Tegen Books is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.
WE SET THE DARK ON FIRE. Copyright © 2019 by Tehlor Kay Mejia. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
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Cover art © 2019 by Cristina Pagnoncelli
Concrete texture by Vanilllla/Shutterstock
Paper texture by Olaf Speier/Shutterstock
Cover design by Molly Fehr
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Digital Edition FEBRUARY 2019 ISBN: 978-0-06-269133-0
Print ISBN: 978-0-06-269131-6
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1920212223PC/LSCH10987654321
FIRST EDITION
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We Set the Dark on Fire Page 27