Midnight Dolls

by Kiki Sullivan

  “A mistake anyone could make,” Peregrine says with a cold smile. “Now,” she says, turning back to me, “where were we? Oh yes, I was talking about how your father’s sosyete brothers were going to try to poach you. What, are we not good enough for you?”

  “Peregrine, you’re being ridiculous. I’m not going anywhere.”

  She gives me a look. “And yet we’re all on a flight to Georgia, aren’t we?”

  “Look, it’s complicated. But Carrefour is always going to come first, okay? It’s where my mom’s from, and that means everything to me.”

  Peregrine is quiet as Audowido slithers around her shoulders. “Time will tell, I guess.”

  Four hours and one connection in Atlanta later, most of our entourage is striding through the main doors of the Savannah/Hilton Head International Airport while Oscar, Patrick, and their fathers wait at baggage claim for the queens’ luggage.

  A white stretch Hummer pulls up to the curb less than a minute after we step outside into the humid afternoon. A tall man in his forties with light brown hair and deeply tanned skin gets out of the back, wearing chinos, boat shoes, and a button-down madras shirt. “Matthias!” he exclaims, pulling my dad into a hug.

  My father looks happy to see him, and after they back away from each other, he introduces the man to us. “This is Simon, my sosyete brother,” he tells us. “He’s one of Caouanne Island’s kings, like me.”

  “Guilty as charged,” Simon says with a grin. There’s something vaguely familiar about him, but I can’t put my finger on what it is. “We’re all so grateful that y’all made the trip here so quickly. Didn’t you bring your protectors?”

  “Eveny’s protector, Caleb, is here,” my father says as Caleb nods in greeting and shakes Simon’s hand. I see Simon looking Caleb up and down as my father adds, “The others are retrieving the luggage.”

  “You checked luggage?” Simon asks. “But it’s just a two-day visit, right?”

  “We didn’t check luggage,” my father says, glancing at Peregrine, Chloe, and their mothers, who are standing in a cluster on the sidewalk. Chloe’s mom is absentmindedly filing her nails; Peregrine is putting on lipstick in a compact mirror, and her mom is reapplying powder. It’s like they’re deliberately being disrespectful. Suddenly, I can feel the beginnings of a headache coming on.

  Simon exchanges looks with my father, then he opens the door for us and gestures to the inside of the SUV limo. “No time to waste. Get in. I’ll go check on your things.”

  It takes fifteen minutes for the Louis Vuitton bags to come off the conveyor belt and another hour to get to the docks on the coast of Georgia. Simon and my dad talk in hushed tones through much of the ride while Chloe, Peregrine, and their mothers drink champagne and act like they’re on vacation. Caleb stares out the window, and I try hard not to keep stealing glances at him.

  During the drive, Simon, who sits in back with us as a lower-level sosyete member drives, plays tour guide as he tells us about the island my dad calls home.

  “Caouanne is the French word for a loggerhead turtle,” he tells us. “Turtles, which are abundant off the coast of Georgia, are as important and magical to andaba as snakes are to zandara.”

  Audowido hisses at this, and Peregrine makes a face as Simon continues. “Much like Carrefour, Caouanne Island is protected from outsiders by both geography and magic. We’re out in the ocean, some three miles from the coast, so physically, we’re isolated. But the island is also surrounded by charms so that boaters can’t see it unless they’re within one hundred yards of our shores. Otherwise, it’s cloaked in mist and looks like a stormy area that should be avoided.”

  “Don’t people sometimes run aground by accident anyhow?” Chloe says. “Like how people sometimes arrive at Carrefour’s gate because they’ve taken a wrong turn?”

  “Occasionally, although it’s rare,” Simon says. “But from the outskirts of the island, it looks uninhabited and overgrown. There are only a few narrow paths into town, and those are hard to find. Plus the protective charms around the outside of the island alert us anytime the perimeter is breached.”

  We drive through a deserted-looking marshy area and emerge at a wooden dock on an inlet. There’s a state-of-the-art yacht glistening in the late afternoon sunshine ahead of us. The driver stops the car, and Simon motions for us all to get out. “The boat’ll be a bit of a tight squeeze, since I didn’t anticipate you bringing two months’ worth of luggage,” Simon says. “But we’ll be all right. It’ll take us just thirty minutes to get from here to the island. Everybody in.”

  We file into the boat, and the guy who was driving the Hummer, who Simon quickly introduces as Nick, slides into the captain’s chair. Minutes later, we’re pulling out of the inlet, into the wide-open Atlantic. Just like Simon said, I can’t see anything that even remotely resembles land until we’re almost upon it.

  “Welcome to Caouanne Island,” Simon says as the milky fog parts and a lush green forest seems to spring from the middle of the ocean in front of us. Nick navigates the yacht into a small channel among the trees and Simon leaps easily from the bow onto a dock to help pull the boat in and secure it. “Ladies first,” he says once the boat has stopped moving. He offers Chloe a hand and helps her onto the dock.

  I’m the last to disembark, and as Simon takes my hand and gives me a boost off the boat, I could swear I hear him say, “Welcome home.”

  There’s another stretch Hummer waiting beyond the trees, and after the guys load up the luggage and we all climb in, we set off down a dirt road that seems to wind deeper into a darkening forest.

  “I can see why people would think the island is uninhabited,” I say as the branches and boughs of the trees scrape the windows and the roof.

  “Just wait,” Simon says, adding a moment later, “Here we are.”

  We all strain to see out the windows as we enter a small downtown area that looks like an upscale seaside fishing village. It’s spotless, with pristine, old-fashioned storefronts, late Victorian architecture, and impeccably dressed people strolling down the street.

  Soon we arrive at a stately southern mansion just on the other side of the town center. It’s pale yellow with shiny white shutters, wrought iron balcony rails, and ivy creeping up the two broad columns that support the roof of the front porch. The lawn is bright green and perfectly trimmed, and the front garden is lined with maroon and white roses. I like it immediately; it’s much more modern-looking than the sweeping Gothic mansions the Marceaus, the St. Pierres, and I live in.

  We step through the front door, and I’m startled to feel an inexplicable sense of familiarity—not like I’ve been here before but like I somehow belong anyway. It’s not until I turn to my left and see a huge painting of my mother holding me as an infant that I realize why. “This is your house?” I say, turning to my father.

  He smiles sadly and nods at the painting. “Your mom had that commissioned and sent to me as a gift a few months after you were born. It made me feel like you were nearby, even when the two of you were far away.”

  I turn back to the painting, and for a moment I feel an overwhelming sense of sorrow for my parents. My mother’s eyes are mournful, even though she’s smiling. I know without asking that she was grieving for the husband she’d had to part with for reasons beyond her control.

  My father glances once more at the painting. “I’ll show you around in a bit, but for now, my sosyete is waiting. Shall we go meet with them first?” Without waiting for an answer, he beckons us to follow him down a long hallway. Caleb falls back with Oscar and Patrick as Peregrine and Chloe link their arms through mine.

  “So this place is kind of yours too,” Peregrine says as we pass impressionist paintings in gilt frames and intricately etched bell-shaped vases on pedestals.

  I shrug. “I guess.”

  “How lovely for you,” Peregrine says flatly, exchanging glances with Chloe.

  “I’m not abandoning you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” I tel
l them, but Chloe doesn’t seem to hear me, and Peregrine just shrugs and looks away.

  The hallway spills us into a big, open room with soaring ceilings and arched windows that overlook a huge, sprawling garden in the backyard. Four people—one man and three women—are sitting around a long, rectangular wooden table with another dozen empty chairs set up around it. They rise when we walk in.

  “Welcome back, Matthias,” says one of the women, who’s tall, slender, and beautiful with chestnut hair and high cheekbones. Her eyes rest on him before she turns to the rest of us and says, “And welcome, all of you, to Caouanne Island. Please, make yourselves comfortable. We’re so happy to have you.”

  My father quickly introduces the group to us. The woman who stood to greet us is Diane; the other two are Shelly and Veronica. The man, who’s lanky and stern-looking, is George, the third king in my dad’s generation, and he shakes hands firmly with my dad and Simon before turning to us and echoing Diane’s greeting. As we go around the room quickly introducing ourselves, I begin to feel uneasy. They’re all looking at me like a bug under a microscope.

  “So you’re Eveny,” Diane says as we settle around the table. “We’ve all heard so much about you. It’s fascinating to finally meet you.”

  “It’s nice to meet all of you too,” I say, but I’m feeling weird, because they’re still staring. “Um, and thank you for having us here,” I add.

  “Well, it’s your island too, isn’t it?” Diane says, and I don’t think I’m imagining the edge to her voice.

  My father shoots Diane a look and takes over smoothly. “You’ve been called here today because our sosyete is very concerned about yesterday’s attack against Eveny and has some important information they want to share with us. George will explain what we know.”

  George stands, and although his expression is grave, his eyes are kind. He’s about my father’s age, with close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair and a neatly trimmed goatee.

  “We made contact with a Main de Lumière defector, who informed us that there are at least two other undercover operatives already embedded in Carrefour, and that they’re townspeople you trust,” he explains quickly. “That’s in addition to Drew Grady. We believe they’re ready to move against you—and that they’ve been instrumental in helping Main de Lumière disable your protective gate.”

  “Wait, that’s impossible!” Peregrine’s mother says. “Our gate has worked for more than a hundred years. There’s no way it could be disabled by anyone who isn’t magical.”

  “Then how do you explain what happened to me?” I ask. “The man who attacked me, he wasn’t from Carrefour. Sure, he could have gotten in with one of the townspeople’s keys, but if the charm on the gate was working, he wouldn’t have been able to harm me.”

  “I’m sure there’s an explanation,” Peregrine’s mother says firmly, but I can read uncertainty in her eyes.

  “Which is why we need to hear George out,” I say, looking at my father’s brother king, who nods at me gratefully.

  Peregrine stands suddenly before George can continue. “How do we know this source of yours even defected? Maybe he’s just lying on their behalf.”

  George shakes his head. “I wish that were the case,” he says. “But within twenty-four hours of him giving us this information, he was found dead.”

  “Dead?” Chloe repeats as Peregrine slumps back into her seat.

  George’s mouth compresses into a thin line. “He was dumped on our shores, which means Main de Lumière has discovered our location too. They must have tortured him until he talked. The last thing he said to us is that Main de Lumière is planning to destroy both andaba and zandara by eliminating the one person who’s essential to both magical traditions. That can mean only one thing.” He closes his eyes, as if the rest is too painful to ponder. There’s suddenly a sour taste in my mouth, and I brace myself for what I know is coming next.

  Diane stands. “If we don’t do something about it,” she says, looking directly at me, “we believe that Eveny will be dead within a matter of days.”

  4

  “It’s exactly like Drew said before he died,” I say twenty minutes later, as we break for a meal and tuxedoed waiters bring us roasted chicken, grilled peaches, pecan green beans, and truffled mashed potatoes on huge gold platters. “I wish they could understand that I’m still new at all this. I’m no more powerful than anyone else.”

  “But that’s not true, now, Eveny, is it?” Diane asks. “You’re quite different from all of us.”

  Simon gives her a look before turning to me. “What Diane means to say, Eveny, is that you’re still a bit of an unknown. You’ve only just begun to tap into your zandara abilities, but we don’t yet know the extent of your andaba powers, and that’s what Main de Lumière is apparently concerned about.”

  “My andaba powers?” I ask, looking from Simon to my father in confusion. It was only a couple of weeks ago that I learned my father was an andaba king, but I had assumed that my andaba blood would merely strengthen my skill in zandara.

  It’s Diane who finally begins to explain. “As you may know, andaba is based around a patriarchy, the same way zandara is centered around a matriarchy. Power here is passed from father to son. So while women have always been respected, we’ve never been the ones with the true power, just as the men in your magical tradition take a backseat to the queens.

  “But for the first time in Caouanne Island history,” she continues, glancing at my father, “we have a female heir, which creates a very . . . unique situation.”

  It takes me a split second to realize exactly what Diane means, and when I do, I feel like I’ve swallowed a jagged piece of glass. “Me?” I ask. “You’re saying I’m an andaba ruler?”

  Diane nods. “Of course this is because your father, our most powerful king, had a child with the heir to a matriarchal structure: your mother. If he’d simply stayed on the island and had a child here, as he was intended to, his firstborn would have been a boy, just like every other firstborn in the history of andaba.

  “So while you’re obviously a Queen of Carrefour, Eveny, you’re also a Queen of Caouanne Island,” Diane continues. “We’re quite fascinated by what this might mean for the future of andaba. But we’re also very aware that if Main de Lumière gets to you, they’ll be able to destroy not just the zandara bloodline in Carrefour, but also the future of andaba on Caouanne Island. That’s what makes you such an appealing target. Of course Peregrine, Chloe, and their mothers are targets too—as are the kings here on Caouanne Island—but you’re unique, and they have their eyes on you.”

  George picks up her explanation. “Eveny, they know that eliminating you before you give birth to an heir would effectively cripple both andaba and zandara, because your bloodline would be destroyed.”

  My head spinning, I turn to my dad. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”

  He hesitates. “Honey, you’ve had so many revelations lately that I didn’t want to overwhelm you. The truth is, you’re not just a part of our sosyete; you’re the leader, since it was our ancestors who founded the sect. When you turned seventeen, that authority fell naturally to you.”

  Suddenly, I realize something. “Wait, is that why you came back?” I ask. “Because the future of Caouanne Island rides on me? Because you wanted to bring me here to assume my rightful place or something?”

  My father looks startled. “Of course not, Eveny. I came back after Main de Lumière’s attack on you because you were in great danger. I couldn’t live with losing you.”

  I turn to Caleb. “Did you know about this?” I ask. “That I’m an andaba queen too?”

  “No,” he says. He glances at my father. “I would never have kept something like this from you. It changes everything.”

  Peregrine, who managed to clean her plate while we were discussing the possibility of my imminent death, holds up a fork. “Clearly, for Eveny’s protection, we should all return to Carrefour immediately,” she says.

  Diane looks
like her eyes are going to pop out of her head. “Why on earth would that be the preferable situation? Am I incorrect in recalling that just yesterday, Eveny was attacked inside your walls?”

  “We’ll work on that,” Peregrine says. “Besides, Caleb is better able to protect her there. Inside Carrefour’s walls, he’s able to sense when she’s in danger.”

  “When his abilities aren’t being disrupted by his lust for Eveny,” Diane shoots back. I can feel my cheeks burning as she adds, “You know as well as I do that he’s compromised, and his abilities are lessened because of it.”

  “It’s over between us,” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat as I wonder how she knows about Caleb. My father must have told her, which makes me feel betrayed. “His feelings are no longer an issue.”

  Diane gives me a withering look. “And I suppose you feel you’d be safer in a place where we know there are at least two Main de Lumière operatives lurking?”

  “You have Main de Lumière informants washing up dead on your beaches, so I’d say your little island here is just as exposed,” Peregrine says before I can answer. “At least in Carrefour, Eveny is at home. And she already knows how to use her zandara abilities, which are stronger there.”

  “All the more reason she should stay here, to begin learning about andaba,” Diane says.

  The conversation disintegrates from there. Chloe’s and Peregrine’s mothers jump into the fray on Carrefour’s side, as Simon and Shelly both speak up in favor of me staying on Caouanne Island. I can barely differentiate the voices that echo rapid-fire around the room.

  “We have a protective wall!”

  “We’re isolated from the mainland!”

  “Eveny’s been one of us for months now!”

  “Yes, and you’ve been keeping her from her rightful role here!”

  “Stop, everyone!” I say, interrupting the volley of accusations. “Fighting isn’t getting us anywhere. Look, why don’t I just disappear for a while? If I hide out somewhere else, maybe they won’t find me.”