Midnight Dolls

by Kiki Sullivan

  My father asks if he’s hungry, and he says no, then turns to shake my grandfather’s hand. He seems to bow to him slightly, which reminds me just how important my grandfather is among andaba practitioners. None of us have eaten more than a couple of bites, and as I look down at my sandwich now, my stomach lurches. I push my plate away.

  “I hope you don’t mind that I’ve invited Bram Saxon to join us,” my grandfather says, glancing at me and then at Caleb, who seems tense and on edge. “I thought it would be helpful to put our heads together about this Main de Lumière problem. And I have some news I’d like to share.”

  He looks around at all of us before continuing. “While I was in Miami, I had some dealings with muerdaya practitioners from Haiti. They’re not on Main de Lumière’s radar to the same extent we are, which has allowed them to gain more insight into the organization. In a ceremony last week, a group of priests managed to coax some information out of the Main de Lumière general assigned to their region.” He pauses. “Then they killed him.”

  I’m surprised by how much this bothers me. There’s simply too much bloodshed, no matter which side it’s on. I feel a surge of guilt, like I should be doing something to stop all of this. But it’s a chain of events that was set in motion long before I got here, and I know I have yet to understand even a fraction of it.

  “So what did he say?” my father asks.

  My grandfather pauses dramatically. “There’s infighting within the Main de Lumière ranks,” he says. “A split between those who believe the organization has gone too far and those who believe that the only way to cleanse the world is by spilling the blood of all who have magical ties.”

  I swallow hard. “I thought they all believed in killing us.”

  “They do, to an extent,” my grandfather says. “Main de Lumière was founded on the idea that magic—in any form—is the work of the devil and that they’re doing something virtuous by eliminating us. But finally, there’s a faction within the organization that believes murdering innocents is wrong. The problem is that there’s a disagreement about what makes a person innocent. Are we guilty the moment we draw upon our powers for the first time? Or are we only guilty if we use our abilities to do harm?

  “That’s exactly why the split within Main de Lumière focuses largely on Eveny,” he adds, turning to me. A chill runs through me as he goes on. “For those who believe that magical blood alone isn’t reason enough for punishment, you’ve become almost a symbol of a movement. But this has only infuriated the others, who harp on the idea of your great potential for power—and thus your great potential to do harm.”

  “But I’m not planning on doing harm!”

  “Still,” my grandfather continues, “you remain a symbol to both sides, which makes you more important and interesting to Main de Lumière than ever before. When you were younger, they feared that your power would one day be a threat to them. Now you’re a threat regardless of your power, because you’re capable of dividing them and turning them against each other.”

  My head is suddenly throbbing. I close my eyes.

  “What are we supposed to do with that information?” my father asks.

  My grandfather leans back in his chair. “Be aware. Defend ourselves. Darkness is coming, but it may not come from the places we expect. Who knows? There may even be people within Main de Lumière who wish to help us.”

  “You think we should work with Main de Lumière?” Caleb says. “You can’t be serious!”

  “Oh, I’m very serious, young man. And you should be at least considering the possibility too, if you truly want to save Eveny’s life.”

  “Of course I do.” Caleb looks at me, pauses for a second, and then looks back at my grandfather. “It seems like what they’re afraid of is that she has andaba powers too. That’s just making things worse.”

  “But isn’t it her zandara side that’s been getting her into so much trouble?” Bram counters. “What if andaba isn’t a complication? What if it’s something that could help?”

  “That’s insane. How could it help?” Caleb says. “It’s making Eveny a target.”

  “It’s not andaba that’s making her a target,” Bram says. “It’s the fact that she has two kinds of magical blood.”

  “Including andaba,” Caleb says.

  “And zandara,” Bram replies.

  The two of them glare at each other.

  My grandfather holds up a hand. “You both have different reasons for protecting her. But looking at Eveny’s face now, I don’t imagine your war of words is making much of a difference.”

  They both turn to me. I’m tired of being asked to pick sides, to turn my back on a part of my own history.

  I take a deep breath. “I just want all of us to survive. I don’t see why I have to choose one tradition over the other. Wasn’t I born to practice both? Isn’t that who I am?”

  I don’t wait for an answer. I get up from the table and head for the back door, leaving a divided room full of people staring after me.

  13

  Caleb follows me outside, as I knew he would, but he stays in the shadows as I walk through the garden. “I know you’re out here to protect me,” I say after a moment. “But honestly, all the lurking gets a little creepy after a while.”

  There’s a rustling behind me, and Caleb steps out, looking guilty. “I didn’t want to bother you. You okay?”

  “No,” I say. “As a matter of fact, I’m not.”

  “Everyone just wants what’s best for you, you know.”

  “Do they?” I ask. “Or does everyone want what’s best for their own magical tradition? I’m tired of feeling like a pawn in a game I don’t understand.”

  I sit down on the stone bench in my mother’s rose garden and gesture for him to join me.

  “I’ll stand,” he says awkwardly.

  “I’m not going to throw myself at you, if that’s what you’re worried about,” I say. “I’m capable of controlling myself.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not sure I am,” he says, looking away.

  I can feel his defenses up, the chill in the air, and as I look up at him, I suddenly feel angry. You can’t practically rip someone’s clothes off one night and then turn around and ice them out. I know there are forces at work that are bigger than us, and I know Caleb thinks he’s doing the right thing. But I happen to believe that following your heart is the only right way, regardless of the rules. And I can only bang my head against the wall so many times before I start to get a pounding headache.

  “So then leave me alone, Caleb, okay?” I say. “If you can’t even bring yourself to sit with me, then just go.”

  “I’m supposed to stay and protect you.”

  “You’re not the only one who can do it.”

  “You’re talking about Bram,” he says.

  “He’s capable of protecting me too. Remember? He’s a king.” I know from the look on Caleb’s face that my words are hurting him. I continue anyway. “And he actually seems to want to be around me. So if I’m such a burden to you, go. I don’t need you.”

  “Eveny—” he says, but he doesn’t continue. Instead, he hesitates for a second, then turns quickly and walks away.

  I blink back tears and close my eyes, breathing in the scent of my mother’s Rose of Life flowers as Caleb’s footsteps fade. “Mom,” I say loudly, “if you can hear me, I need your guidance more than ever.”

  I don’t know how long I sit there before I drift off to sleep. In my mind, I can see my mother coming toward me, a vivid memory from my childhood. I’m standing in the garden, and she walks out of the house with a glass of lemonade for herself and a little plastic cup for me. She’s smiling at me, and in her long, white dress, with her red hair billowing in the breeze, she looks a bit like she’s floating. “Eveny,” she says, the sound clear and sweet.

  I’m so startled to hear her voice that my eyes snap open and I lose my balance. I reach out to stop myself from falling, and when I do, I accidentally scrape the back of m
y hand against one of my mom’s Rose of Life bushes. A thorn jabs into me, and I wince. I look down to see that I’m bleeding.

  “Ow,” I mumble, rubbing my hand once I regain my balance. A drop of blood falls onto one of the rose blooms, and instantly, a translucent white cloud begins swirling in front of me. It’s so faint that I can barely make it out in the darkness, but I can feel it more than I can see it. “What the . . . ?”

  “Eveny?”

  I whirl around to see Bram walking toward me from the direction of the house, looking concerned. “Who were you talking to?” he asks.

  I look back to the rosebush in front of me, but the white cloud isn’t there, leaving me unsure whether I really saw it at all. I shake my head, perplexed. “No one,” I say. Then, when I realize he looks skeptical, I hang my head and say, “My mom. Not that she can talk back.”

  He sighs and comes to sit beside me on the bench. “Losing her must have been so hard on you.”

  I nod. “I just wish I could ask her for advice, you know?” I hesitate. “I feel like I’m being pulled in a million different directions. Everyone in my life seems to want something from me right now.”

  “I don’t want anything from you,” Bram says softly. “Nothing you don’t want to give, anyhow.”

  “But that’s not really true, is it? You want me to embrace andaba, and it seems like my dad does too. I think Peregrine and Chloe want me to turn my back on it and only practice zandara. But no one really cares what I want, do they?”

  “What do you want, Eveny?” His voice is low, and there’s a sudden intimacy to it.

  “I don’t know,” I say.

  “Sure you do.” His stormy eyes bore into me, but instead of making me uneasy, his gaze makes me feel safe, protected, understood. Exactly the opposite of how Caleb has been making me feel lately.

  “Fine. I want to make the right choices.” I pause. “I want to find a way to keep everyone safe. I want to do what my mom would have done if she were here. And I want to make a better future for everyone. We can’t just keep living in fear.”

  “You sure have a lot on your shoulders, don’t you?” he says after a moment. He puts a hand on my leg, just above my knee and squeezes gently. “You don’t have to carry all of this alone. I mean, I know you’re confused right now and you’re not sure who to trust. But you can trust me.”

  I sigh, my heart racing from his touch. “I want to believe that’s true. But I don’t know you yet, Bram.”

  “Are you sure?” He holds my gaze. “Think about it, Eveny. I mean, really think about it. Isn’t there a part of you that knows me too?”

  I’m about to tell him that I don’t know what he means, but then, suddenly, I realize that in fact I do. There’s something about him that tugs at the corners of my memory, just like my visit to Caouanne Island seemed to trigger something embedded in my genetic code. “Did we ever meet before Saturday?” I ask.

  He smiles. “No.”

  “So why do you feel familiar to me? Because you’re my brother king?”

  “So you do feel it.”

  “Feel what?” I ask, although I know exactly what he means. He’s talking about the way being with each other is inexplicably comfortable, the way every glance and touch between us feels natural.

  But he doesn’t reply. Instead, he stands and offers me his hand. I take it without even thinking about it, and before I can consider pulling away, he helps me up. I’m expecting him to say something romantic, because it suddenly seems like that kind of a moment. But instead, he asks, “Eveny, do you want to learn a little more about andaba?”

  I nod. “You’ll teach me?”

  “Sure.” He takes my other hand and leans forward so that his forehead is touching mine. I can feel his warm breath against my cheek as he says, “I know your father explained about reaching out to the spirits, but did he show you how to channel power from the living too?”

  “No,” I whisper. Is Bram using magic on me now? Is that why I feel so warm and syrupy inside?

  “It’s why we’re so powerful together,” he says. “In andaba, you can be even stronger when you rely on channeling another king’s thoughts and feelings.”

  “I don’t understand,” I say, but I realize I don’t want to move; there’s something about the heat of his skin against mine that’s making me feel peaceful.

  “Close your eyes,” he says softly, “and focus only on what’s flowing through me to you. Imagine my blood coursing through your veins. Imagine my heart beating in time with yours. Imagine our minds opening to each other so that all of our thoughts and hopes and dreams flow back and forth.”

  My own heart is thudding now, but I close my eyes and try to do as he says. At first, I feel self-conscious and strange, but after a moment, I can feel my head heating up, starting from where we’re touching and spreading outward, slowly and gently. I can sense his heartbeat, the cadence of his breath, and without meaning to, I can feel my own body’s rhythms slowing to match his. The sense of strangeness that filled me a moment ago is dissipating, and as soon as I realize we’re breathing in unison, something strange happens. My whole body begins to tingle, and as I crack my eyes open, I can hear his voice, like a humming in the back of my brain, although his lips aren’t moving.

  “What?” I ask softly.

  Listen, his voice says in my mind, and I’m so startled that I almost pull away. But although it should seem strange, there’s also something very natural about all of this, so my instinct overrides my fear and I stand still. After a moment, I hear the faraway whisper again: You have no idea how deeply I care for you.

  My breath catches in my throat, and this seems to break the link between us. Bram pulls away, and when I open my eyes, he’s smiling. “Did you feel that?” he asks.

  I nod slowly. “Did you . . . say something?”

  “You heard words?” He looks surprised but pleased. “You’re better at this than I thought you’d be, Eveny. You heard what was going through my mind.”

  “I . . . I heard your thoughts?” I ask. Then something occurs to me. “Could you hear what I was thinking?”

  “We can only hear our brother kings—and in your case, our sister queen—but that person must consciously open his or her own mind to us.”

  “So you meant for me to hear what you were thinking?” I ask, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks.

  He takes a step closer, but this time, he doesn’t lean his head toward mine. Instead, he takes both of my hands in his. “Yes,” he says softly.

  “Oh.” My cheeks are on fire now, and I don’t know what to say.

  He lets go of my right hand and reaches up to touch my cheek gently. “You feel it too. The connection between us.”

  “I—I think so,” I whisper.

  “Good.” He only has to lean forward a couple of inches to kiss me because we’re standing so close, but when he does, it doesn’t feel like a surprise at all. Nor does it feel like we’re doing something wrong, although perhaps it should. As his tongue gently parts my lips, I don’t taste regret the way I do when Caleb kisses me. Instead, there’s only the sweet taste of desire and the warmth of belonging. And so I kiss back, and as he bites gently on my lower lip, a shiver goes through me.

  When he finally pulls away, I feel dizzy.

  “Wow,” he says, looking into my eyes.

  “Wow,” I echo. “That was . . .”

  “It was what?” he asks gently when I don’t continue.

  I hesitate. “Unexpected.”

  “Was it?” He looks amused. “Or did it feel like that was exactly what was supposed to happen.”

  “I don’t know,” I admit. The guilt is finally trickling in, though. “Look, I should tell you that I sort of have something going on with Caleb.”

  He nods. “But he’s pushing you away.”

  “How do you know that?” I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly feeling violated.

  “I couldn’t hear the words in your mind,” he says. “But sometimes you can ge
t whispers of what’s in someone else’s heart. I could read that in yours.”

  “And you kissed me anyhow?”

  He reached out to touch my cheek. “I thought it was important for you to know that you would never have to worry about that with me. I would never push you away.”

  “But you don’t even know me yet,” I say, suddenly wary. “And this isn’t going to make me choose andaba. Is that what this was about?”

  He looks surprised. “No. Not at all. I’m not trying to make you do anything, Eveny.” He holds my gaze for a long moment and adds, “After all the noise fades away, the only thing you’ll be able to hear is your own heart.”

  We head back toward the house in silence, and although Caleb is nowhere to be seen—which I’m grateful for—my grandfather is standing at the back door with a knowing look. And suddenly, I have the feeling that he saw everything.

  The next morning, I head downstairs after a troubled night’s sleep to find Peregrine and Chloe standing in the front hallway with my father. “Your friends are here,” he says.

  “Thanks,” I say as he heads back upstairs. I turn to Peregrine, who has Audowido wrapped around her shoulders like a shawl. “What are you guys doing here?”

  “Would you stop referring to us as guys, Eveny?” Peregrine says. “We are ladies.”

  “It’s just an expression.”

  “Yes, a thoroughly improper one,” she says. “In any case, we’re on our way to school, and we dropped by to tell you when to join us for the ceremony we’re doing tonight. We’ll be meeting at midnight in the crossroads of the cemetery. You might want to be a few minutes early.”

  I glance at Chloe, who’s looking intently at the floor. “What kind of a ceremony are we doing, exactly?”

  Peregrine rolls her eyes and sighs. “As you may recall, Eveny, Chloe’s mother was attacked yesterday? We need to draw some significant power in order to address the gaps in our protection. Unless you’d prefer to be a sitting duck?” She makes a face and adds, “Besides, you’d be helping Caleb.”

  “Caleb?” Guilt surges through me as I think about Bram’s kiss last night.