The Dolls (34 page)

“There’s a balance to the universe,” he says flatly, almost as if he’s reciting something he’s memorized. “And you and your slutty, greedy friends have been violating that balance. We’re restoring the world to its natural order.”

“Murdering people isn’t the answer.”

He casually twirls his knife, studying it as it catches the light of a streetlamp. “I don’t see another way, and neither did General Vauclain. My orders have always been to kill you as soon as you started using your powers. And if I let you go back to Carrefour, I won’t have another chance.”

“Why me?” I demand. “Why wouldn’t Main de Lumière just have you go after one of the other queens?”

For the first time, he looks genuinely surprised. “Because of how powerful you are, of course.”

“But Peregrine and Chloe are way more powerful than I am,” I protest in confusion. “I’m only just beginning to learn.”

He studies me for a moment then laughs in disbelief. “You don’t know?”

“Know
what
?”

He grabs a handful of my hair and pulls, jerking my head to the side so hard that I wince in pain. He holds the knife to my throat. “It’s because of your father, stupid.” I can see him searching my face to discern whether I know what he’s talking about.

“Drew, I don’t know my dad,” I say desperately. “You know that.”

“I thought you were lying,” he says, almost to himself. “Well, you may as well hear the truth since you’re about to die anyhow. Your deadbeat father is a very powerful king in the world of dark magic.”

My heart thumps against my chest as I wait for him to say more.

“He’s the leader of a sosyete in Georgia that practices andaba, which is like zandara, except they use bones instead of flowers to commune with spirits, and men have the power instead of women.”

“That can’t be true. My aunt would have told me.
Someone
would have told me.”

“Apparently not. Your dad fell in love with your mom, married her, and boom, you were conceived. Her sister queens didn’t trust him, though, and he didn’t trust them. He thought they were irresponsible with how they practiced magic, the way they were so generous with themselves and so inconsiderate of those less fortunate.”

“Less fortunate people like you and your mom,” I whisper.

Drew steps closer and his expression grows more menacing. He presses me against the wall and draws a small line across my chest with his knife. I gasp in pain as my own blood streams, hot and wet, down my robe.

“You know
nothing
about my mother,” he growls. “Let’s just get that straight.”

I’m already feeling light-headed. I struggle to maintain my composure. “Go on,” I manage.

“The three queens—your mom, Peregrine’s mom, and Chloe’s mom—were actually close to listening to your dad and changing their selfish little ways,” Drew continues. “And then one day, he just up and left. He left your mom; he left you. And they realized he was using them, drawing on their power to enhance his.”

“That can’t be true,” I say. “My mother loved him until the day she died.”

“Then your mother was a pretty stupid woman. Face it, Eveny, you and your mom didn’t mean anything to your dad.”

The words cut deep. “But he came back,” I protest. “He promised to look after me.”

Drew guffaws. “Well, he’s doing a superb job of that right now, isn’t he?” He presses me against the wall and holds the knife just below my collarbone. “You see this?” he asks, nicking the skin of my chest with the tip of his blade. He pulls the knife against my skin, and I watch dully as he opens up a large wound. A thick trail of blood begins its steady descent down my body.

“This blood,” he continues, staring at the wash of crimson sliding down my chest, “makes you the most powerful queen in the
world
. You’re the only one we’ve ever known who has a king for a father and a queen for a mother. There’s no telling how powerful you could be if properly trained. But right now? I have
all
the power, and you have none. And when I kill you, I’ll be restoring balance to the world. I’ll be a hero.”

“Don’t you understand that I agree with you? We made some mistakes, but now I’m trying to make things right.”

Drew snorts. “By performing your most powerful ceremony of the year?”

“It wasn’t to gain anything for ourselves! It was only to protect Carrefour against Main de Lumière!”

“You really think I’m that stupid? Eveny, it was to gather favors so your sosyete could continue to make themselves richer and us poorer.”

“That’s not true.” My voice is growing weaker. The world around me is starting to swim. “Was it you who killed Glory?” I whisper.

He looks down instead of meeting my gaze. “She figured out who I was. I was trying to turn her to our side, and it went wrong.”

“But she was your friend,” I say.

“So are you, supposedly. But I’m afraid that doesn’t change a thing,” he says casually. He looks at his watch and sighs heavily. “I’m afraid we’re nearly out of time. It’s been nice knowing you, Eveny, it really has. But you’re an abomination of nature. You’re of the devil. And I’m afraid I’m going to have to kill you now.”

His words are smooth and determined, but something flickers in his eyes as he says them, something like regret, and I use his moment of indecision to muster the last of my strength and pull away. The blood covering my body makes me slippery enough that he loses his grip, but I only manage to stumble a few feet down the alley before he’s on top of me. His knife glints angry in the light again as it slices through the air toward my heart, but I twist at the last minute and it lodges deeply in my upper left shoulder instead.

I cry out in agony. This cut finds muscle, and the pain is excruciating as he removes the knife and prepares to bring it down again.

Once again, I roll out of the way just in time, so that his knife clatters against the pavement instead of cutting through to my heart. But this only makes him more furious, and he’s far stronger than me. I try to touch my Stone of Carrefour, my only hope, but he sees me going for it and grabs my wrists.

“You’re not using that damned thing again,” he growls. “Not like you did when I tried to kill you in the truck crash.” He pins my arms above me against the ground using his left hand, and with his right, he raises the knife again.

I can no longer move. The blood is flowing out of me too quickly. My eyelids are growing heavy. My whole body throbs. And as Drew holds the knife over me, mumbling something about my heartbeat being silenced so that evil can be stricken from the world, I close my eyes and prepare to die.

But suddenly, out of nowhere, something springs from the darkness and pounces on Drew, knocking him off me. My eyelids are fluttering, and I’m finding it hard to breathe. I can hardly see. In fact, it’s not until I hear the shape mutter a curse that I realize it’s a man. All I can see are shadows, blurs.

“It’s going to be okay, Eveny,” he says, and for the first time, I realize that it’s Caleb. Caleb has come back for me.

“Watch out,” I croak. “Drew has . . . knife . . .”

My voice is fading with my consciousness, but I’m aware of Caleb grunting, “I know.”

The shadows rise and fall around me, and I can hear fists connecting with faces, heads hitting pavement, grunts of pain. I muster all my strength and reach for my Stone of Carrefour.

My heart is full of only one thing: a fierce desire to protect Caleb. And when my fingers brush the stone, that’s enough to invoke some kind of magic, even without words or herbs. I watch in frozen surprise as a bubble with a faint greenish tint surrounds Caleb. Drew attempts to stab him, but the knife just bounces off like the bubble is made of iron, not air. Both guys look momentarily confused; I know I’m the only one who can see the protection surrounding Caleb.

“Caleb,” I say, and what I’m trying to tell him is that the magic isn’t strong enough, the bubble is already starting to fade. But he seems to realize it too, and this time, as Drew slices toward him again, the knife gets through and gashes through Caleb’s upper arm. I hear him cry out, but just as quickly, he spins away and grabs the knife.

Drew rolls over and tries to come after him. He cries out as he lunges forward, his features twisted in anger.

And that’s when his chest meets the tip of the knife Caleb is holding unsteadily in his hand. Later, when I try to reconstruct it all in my mind, I’ll remember Caleb’s eyes widening, his hand going slack, the knife remaining wedged in Drew’s chest as he staggers backward and falls.

But right now, the world is still growing dim, and all I know is that Drew has stopped moving and is lying on his back, his eyes wide, the knife lodged deep in the left side of his chest. He makes a gurgling sound, gasps for air, and then goes still.

“Caleb?” I whisper into the nothingness. The noise of Bourbon Street is still very far away. I feel like we’re surrounded by overwhelming silence.

“Come on, Eveny,” Caleb says, struggling to his feet. “We have to get out of here before someone else from Main de Lumière arrives.”

He scoops me up in his arms, wincing, and I’m vaguely aware of the blood flowing from the gaping wound on his shoulder. He begins stumbling back toward Bourbon Street, and as I strain to see behind him, the world begins to fade.

“We just have to find Peregrine or Chloe, and they’ll heal you,” Caleb says, his voice sounding very far away, although I know I’m still nestled against his blood-soaked chest. “You just have to hold on. . . .”

His voice disappears as I lose consciousness.

I come to for a moment, long enough to register that we’re back in the mansion on Chartres Street, and that Caleb is leaning over me on the couch.

“Thank God you’re awake,” he sighs.

It’s only then that I realize Caleb is crying. “Caleb,” I say weakly, reaching up to touch his face, which only makes his tears fall faster. He wipes them away.

“I didn’t mean to kill him,” he says.

“Caleb.” I struggle to sit up. He puts his strong arm on my back to support me, and I gaze into his eyes.

“He was coming at me with that knife, Eveny,” he says. “I knew he’d come for you next. . . .”

Before I can think what I’m doing, I silence him with a kiss, pressing my lips to his with as much force as I can muster. I feel a sob escape his mouth, and then he’s kissing back, passionately, hungrily. “Eveny,” he breathes.

He pulls me closer, and I wince, suddenly all too aware of the knife wounds that have shredded my neck and chest.

“I’m so sorry,” he gasps, lowering me slowly back down to the couch.

“You came back for me,” I murmur.

I look at him in awe as his eyes fill with tears again.

“Of course.” He pushes a tendril of my hair gently out of my face and leans down to kiss me gently on the lips. “I came back because I love you.”

It’s the last thing I remember before the world once again fades to black.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

..................................................................

D
rew’s funeral is the following Wednesday in the Carrefour cemetery.

Peregrine and Chloe had healed me the night of Mardi Gras, and once I was conscious again, the three of us had joined hands and mended Caleb’s wounds. Physically, we’re no worse for the wear today as we stand beside Drew’s grave and watch two cemetery workers from the Périphérie slide his simple oak casket into his family’s mausoleum. Our whole sosyete is there, mourning him publicly.

I’m surprised to realize that the tears I’m crying are real. Even though Drew tried to kill me, I still feel a sense of loss over his death. He wasn’t all evil.

“He made his own choices, Eveny,” Peregrine whispers in my ear as if she knows what I’m thinking.

I nod and dry my eyes, but I’m wondering whether that’s really true. Yes, we all have free will, but in a way, our fates have chosen us already. I’ve been given power and riches beyond my wildest dreams, and although I don’t want either, I know I no longer have a choice. This is my destiny.

The official story of Drew’s death—the conclusion the police have come to, anyhow—is that he was murdered by a random stranger during Mardi Gras. Probably someone drunk and confused, everyone is saying.

Aunt Bea, who sat stone-faced while I filled her in on the details of what happened in New Orleans last week, is at the funeral too, sitting beside Drew’s mother, who’s either entirely uninvolved in her son’s deception or is a terribly good actress. Arelia is on Aunt Bea’s other side, her eyes red from crying. She’d called me yesterday to apologize for not being truthful from the start about Glory. “I thought everyone would judge me,” she said miserably.

Aunt Bea turns and locks eyes with me as the cemetery workers walk away from the gravesite. I force a smile to let her know I’m okay. She’s been buzzing around me since I returned from Mardi Gras, apologizing profusely for keeping me in the dark for so long and therefore putting me in danger.

“There’s no excuse for how removed and distant I’ve been these last few weeks,” she’d said this morning as we walked to the funeral together. “I couldn’t stand to feel like I’d lost another person I loved because I was complicit in all of this. I just wanted to forget that zandara existed. But that means I wasn’t there for you. I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t owe me an apology,” I’d told her honestly. “You’ve always done your best with me. It’s up to me from here.”

But although the words seemed to make her feel better, I knew they were a lie. Because while the threat of Drew is gone, I have the feeling Main de Lumière isn’t going to stop. If anything, they’ll be angrier. We’ve killed two of their own now, and I expect them to come after us with a vengeance. What if there’s another sleeper in our midst, someone who’s been here as long as—or longer than—Drew? And I still don’t know who killed my mother. I don’t trust anyone anymore. Except Caleb.

I’d told him, two days after Mardi Gras, the truths Drew had told me about my father and how powerful my lineage makes me. He’d listened somberly while I spoke, then promised he hadn’t known about any of it. “This means you may be in grave danger all the time,” he’d said.