It’s the charm I overheard them trying to cast in the cemetery, the one Pascal thought didn’t work. “Look, I’m all for the idea of bringing a bunch of hot college guys to town, but are you sure we should be opening the gates if a bunch of magic-haters are out to kill us?” I ask.
“I told you she’d be a nerd about this,” Peregrine singsongs. “Maybe a better question is why Main de Lumière is after us in the first place. Or didn’t your aunt tell you that?”
“Peregrine—” Chloe says in a warning tone.
“It was your great-great-great-grandmother Eléonore’s fault,” Peregrine says, cutting her off. “Our great-great-great-grandmothers were wise enough to realize that if they had this kind of power, they shouldn’t waste their time on something as pointless as falling in love. But Eléonore decided she was above all that. She fell for a man and let him get to know her daughters, and look what happened: he killed one of them.”
“The murderer was Eléonore’s boyfriend?” I ask.
“She was engaged to marry him,” Peregrine says smugly. “When she and our ancestors fled to Carrefour before he could finish the job, he vowed that he’d find us, no matter how long it took. It’s revenge, pure and simple, passed down through the generations, all because of Eléonore’s stupidity.”
Chloe takes over. “What she’s trying to say, Eveny, is that after Eléonore made that mistake, the queens vowed they’d never let their hearts get in the way again. They need to give birth to continue their bloodlines, but they decided it was easier to have one-night stands and then use zandara to make the men forget. It just uncomplicates things.”
It takes me a second to grasp what she’s saying. “Wait, your fathers don’t have any idea you’re their kids?”
“We don’t even know who our fathers are,” Peregrine says. “And when you don’t know someone in the first place, they can never deliberately let you down, like your father did. I mean, our dads don’t know we’re theirs, but yours chose to abandon you.”
Peregrine obviously thinks she’s pushing my buttons, but I’m not about to waste my time and push back. Instead, I return to the more pressing topic. “So everyone thinks Main de Lumière has found us? Why?”
The question is greeted with silence. Finally, Chloe says, “Because we’re fairly certain they killed Glory.”
My blood runs cold. “I thought she killed herself. Didn’t she?”
“The police chief is part of our mothers’ sosyete,” Chloe says. “He helped cover up her murder and make it look like a suicide.”
“Otherwise it would have panicked everyone, made them leave town. We can’t afford for people to be leaving right now, especially in the Périphérie. Our power has to come from somewhere,” Peregrine adds.
“What?”
“What Peregrine’s trying to say,” Chloe interjects, “is that in every great society, there are people of privilege and people who make sacrifices for the people of privilege. You need that separation to keep things balanced. Though we totally make life as comfortable as possible for the people who don’t live in central Carrefour!”
“But you don’t treat them as equals,” I say. When neither of them says anything, I push down my annoyance at their snobby attitude and ask why they suspect Main de Lumière of killing Glory.
“Their pattern is always the same,” Chloe explains. “They stab practitioners of magic through the heart, because that’s the source of our greatest power. And that’s how Glory died.”
My mind flicks to my mother. If Glory’s suicide was staged, is it possible my mom’s was too? But her wounds were to her neck, not her heart. . . . I fight off a sense of disappointment and say, “I thought the charm around the gates was supposed to protect us from intruders getting in.”
“Main de Lumière could only have gotten to Glory if they recruited someone who already lives here in Carrefour,” Peregrine says. For the first time, she looks worried instead of just smug. “In other words, someone who grew up in town, maybe even someone we’re friends with, has turned their back on us and joined Main de Lumière.”
I gape at her. “No offense, but with all of this going on, doing some sort of charm to let strangers into town doesn’t exactly seem like a genius move.”
“First of all, opening the gates isn’t going to have any impact on the person who’s already here,” she snaps. “Second of all, we only invited the very hottest fraternity guys from LSU, and they’ve all passed their background checks with flying colors. Plus, we’ll have Oscar and Patrick, two older guys who work for us, checking IDs at the gate. No one will get in if they’re not on the list.
“Besides,” she adds, “if Carrefour gets any more boring, there’ll be no point in protecting it anyway. Don’t you see, Eveny? We can have anything we want. Good grades. Fabulous clothes. Immunity from teachers’ punishments. Control over everything. Lust and love from whatever boys we choose. It’s all ours. Doesn’t that interest you?”
I feel a surge of excitement, despite my trepidation. “Of course it does.”
“So you’ll join us?” Chloe asks.
“Well . . . yeah.” I suspect I don’t have much of a choice, and I have to admit, the possibilities of what this means are tempting.
Peregrine pulls into a space on Main Street, parallel parking in one impressive attempt. I unfold from the backseat and launch myself onto the sidewalk.
“Welcome aboard,” Chloe says, linking arms with me and pulling me toward a pair of pink double doors on the corner. “Now let’s get you looking like the queen you are.”
Cristof’s Salon is opulent and gold-trimmed on the inside, with mirrors lining all the walls, like the parlor of an eighteenth-century French palace. A small, slender man with a goatee and several tiny stud earrings emerges from behind a velvety purple curtain in the back and exclaims, “Dah-lings!” as he rushes over and kisses Peregrine and Chloe on the cheeks. He turns to me. “And you must be Eveny.” He leans in to kiss me on both cheeks too. “I am Cristof!” he says grandly. “I see you’re not a moment too soon. But don’t worry, doll, that’s what we’re here for. We’ll fix you up real nice and pretty.
“Sharona!” he yells at the top of his lungs, startling me. A moment later, a round middle-aged woman with rosy cheeks and spiky purple hair emerges from the back wearing a smock. “Sharona,” Cristof says, “this here is Eveny, Sandrine Cheval’s daughter.” The color drains from Sharona’s face as Cristof goes on. “Obviously we have great raw material here, but we have a lot of work to do.”
My cheeks continue to flame as Sharona’s eyes rake over me. “Dat’s a fact,” she says in a thick accent.
She takes me over to a chair, leans me back, and begins to wash my hair while Peregrine and Chloe talk in hushed tones with Cristof. By the time Sharona has blotted my hair and led me over to a chair facing a huge oval mirror, the girls have settled into seats behind me.
“So, my dear, what can I do for you today?” Cristof asks as he approaches.
Peregrine answers for me. “She’d like a gloss treatment, of course, and those shaggy split ends will have to go. Also, if her bangs could sweep to the side rather than cut across her forehead like she’s a second grader, that would be ideal.”
I turn. “I like my bangs,” I say. “They’re ironic.”
Peregrine just looks at me. “They’re hideous.”
Cristof chuckles. “The gloss, I can do. The bangs, well, that’s your department. I cut. I don’t make hair grow.”
“Right,” Peregrine says. She exchanges looks with Chloe, and together, they get up and walk toward me. Peregrine grabs my right hand and Chloe grabs my left. With her free hand, Peregrine reaches up and plucks a single strand from my bangs.
“Ow!” I exclaim.
“Oh give me a break,” Peregrine says, rolling her eyes. She grabs my hand again and gestures for Chloe to do the same. In her right hand, she holds up the strand of hair. “Cristof? A flame, please?” she asks.
But he’s already approa
ching with a lit red candle. He hands it to Chloe, who thanks him and thrusts it toward Peregrine. They squeeze my hands tighter as Peregrine holds my strand of hair over the flame.
Chloe fishes in her pocket for something. Finally, she withdraws a handful of squished herbs, which she hands to Peregrine as she looks toward the ceiling and begins to speak in a low voice. “Come to us now, Eloi Oke, and open the gate. Come to us now, Eloi Oke, and open the gate. Come to us now, Eloi Oke, and open the gate.”
There’s a subtle shift in the air after she speaks the last word. The room is silent and heavy. Chloe takes a deep breath and continues in a singsongy voice:
Rosemary roux, marigold dust,
Violet leaf, we draw your power.
Spirits, let there be bangs where there weren’t before,
Beauty for Eveny, let it be done.
They release my hands, and as soon as they do, I feel a gust of wind blow through. The herbs in her hand turn to black dust, and the flame on the candle goes out. “Mesi, zanset,” she murmurs.
“Not bad,” Peregrine says.
“See for yourself.” Chloe turns my chair so that I’m facing the mirror.
My jaw drops. My hair is still damp from the shampoo, but I can plainly see that my choppy Bettie Page bangs are no longer there. In their place, there’s an elegant swoop that skims across my forehead, grazing my right eyebrow and falling ever so slightly over my left eye. “How did you do that?” I whisper.
Peregrine rolls her eyes. “Seriously?” she asks. “You’re impressed with that?”
“But you made my bangs grow,” I say in astonishment.
“Oh for goodness’ sake,” Peregrine says. “Get your big girl pants on. This is nothing.”
“I think you look pretty,” Chloe whispers, meeting my gaze in the mirror.
“All right, Cristof,” Peregrine says, waving a hand at him. “Do your thing.”
“Of course!” Cristof says, sweeping over to us dramatically with a pair of scissors. He reaches for my long bangs and holds them up. He lightly snips the ends and lets them fall gently back on my forehead. “Now, let’s get a conditioning treatment on you.”
He smears a gel that smells like lavender all over my head and then rolls a big hair dryer over. It looks like a giant helmet, and he instructs me to sit under it for five minutes while the conditioning treatment warms up. “Then we’ll rinse and work some magic,” he says, winking. “Well, stylistic magic.”
He heads toward the velvet curtains in back, leaving me alone with Chloe and Peregrine.
“I thought we weren’t supposed to practice zandara in front of people,” I say as soon as he’s gone.
“Cristof is one of us,” Peregrine says.
“Sharona too,” Chloe adds.
“They have powers?”
The girls laugh. “No, silly,” Chloe says. “But they’re both members of our mothers’ sosyete. It’s fine to work magic in front of those who are part of the sosyete because they’re sworn to secrecy, punishable by death.”
Peregrine adds, “Not that it’s ever come to that. The sosyete members don’t have powers of their own, but they’re in on the Secret of Carrefour, and they help increase the queens’ power as they channel the power of the spirits.”
“So if the sosyete members don’t have their own powers, what are they there for?” I ask.
“The spirits like to know they have humans who will do favors for them,” Peregrine explains. “So only the queens can call upon the dead or use the power they give us, but the sosyete members can enhance our strength during ceremonies just by chanting or dancing along with us. Plus, when they allow themselves to be possessed, the spirits are more likely to help us.”
“So in our sosyete it’s us three plus Arelia, Margaux, Pascal, and Justin,” Chloe adds. “Oscar and Patrick, who you’ll almost never see, work with us sometimes. Oh yeah, and Caleb Shaw.”
I can feel myself flush at the mention of Caleb. I look away as Peregrine raises her eyebrows at me.
“Everyone in our sosyete is a descendant of people who have been involved with the Secret of Carrefour for generations,” Chloe goes on. “Once we’re a little older, we get to add a few new members too, people we pick and choose. But that doesn’t happen until after we’ve all turned eighteen.”
Cristof reemerges from the back room then, brandishing a pair of scissors. “Ready to be transformed, Eveny?”
I take a deep breath. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
Forty minutes, one zandara-charmed facial mask, and one cut and blow-dry later, I look like a different person.
My frizzy hair is gone, replaced with shiny waves that cascade over my shoulders, down to the middle of my back. My bangs sweep perfectly to the side and frame my glowing face. My pimples have all vanished, and my skin looks like it’s lit from within. Even my eyelashes, which usually need multiple coats of mascara, have turned dark and lush, and my lips have become pinker and fuller.
“Not bad,” Peregrine marvels.
I just stare at myself in the mirror as Chloe squeals, “Eveny, you’re gorgeous!”
“I don’t even look like me,” I say.
“Exactly the point,” Peregrine says smugly. “Now, we’ve taken the liberty of picking out some shoes and accessories for you. The way you’ve been styling your school uniform”—she pauses and shudders—“just won’t do. They should be at your house by the time you arrive home.”
“Oh,” I say awkwardly. “You shouldn’t have done that. What do I owe you?”
“It’s our treat,” Peregrine says. “Now, let’s work on that charm and see what you can do.”
They lead me behind Cristof’s purple curtain, where several candles flicker in the corner of a small room. Sheer gold scarves are draped over lamps, and incense burns from a small pot on a coffee table. I see three tiny bells, each hanging on a long piece of string, sitting on a chair. Beside them is a cluster of various flowers and herbs.
“Aren’t you excited?” Chloe asks. “Think about it, Eveny. You have the power to give yourself anything you want.”
“How do you even know I’ll be any good at this?” I ask.
Peregrine shrugs. “We don’t.” She slips a bell on a long piece of twine around my neck. “But there’s only one way to find out.”
13
My heart hammers as Peregrine and Chloe grab each other’s hands and then mine, so that we’re standing in a circle of three.
“I can feel it already,” Peregrine says, a dangerous gleam in her eye. “Power.”
Chloe turns to me. “Just relax, Eveny, we’ll do all the work. Clear your mind and think of this as a two-way street back and forth from the spirit world. It’ll just be an easy little ceremony.”
Like I saw them do in the cemetery, Peregrine and Chloe call out three times to Eloi Oke to open the gate. Chloe stomps her right foot and the room suddenly goes still. The air feels thick and heavy, as if we’re underwater. It’s hard to breathe for a moment, but when Chloe and Peregrine release my hands and begin to dance slowly, the air thins out again. Their feet move in a steady right-left-right, left-right-left sashay, with their hips swaying gracefully. I try to follow, and although I feel clunky, I’m sort of getting the hang of it.
As the three of us move in time to Peregrine’s voice, I feel a breeze picking up. The candles are snuffed out, and we’re plunged into near darkness, the only light coming from a lone scarf-draped lamp in the corner.
“Dill, fern, and five-finger grass, we draw your power,” Peregrine chants. “Spirits, please open Carrefour’s gates to the outside world Saturday night until the hour just before dawn.”
Chloe takes over the chanting. “Dandelion and mojo beans, sandalwood and lemon balm, we draw your power. Spirits, please make all of our LSU visitors forget they were here after the gates have closed again.” She pauses and adds, almost as an afterthought, “And coriander and cumin, I draw your power. Spirits, please keep Justin faithful.”
Peregrine s
norts in the darkness but joins Chloe in reciting, “Spirits, open our gates. Spirits, open our gates. Spirits, open our gates. Mesi, zanset, Mesi, zanset. Mesi, zanset.”
They stop abruptly, and I’m about to tell them it isn’t working when I feel a rush of icy coldness wrap around me. Something solid pushes on my skull from the inside out, and my head throbs. When I try to pull away, I find that my hands are frozen, as if my brain is no longer firing impulses to my limbs. I begin to tell the girls to let me go, to reverse whatever they’ve done, but my mouth isn’t working either. I’m getting colder and colder until my entire body is prickling with icy pain. The room begins to look blurry, and I wonder fleetingly if I’m dying.
Suddenly, something moves inside me, and my fear turns to flat-out terror. It’s like there’s another person fighting for room in my body. Before I can do anything about it, I hear myself whisper in a thick southern accent, “My killer is among you.”
I’m a puppet, a shell; someone else is moving my jaw, speaking through my mouth. I scream, but no sound comes out. Through my blurred vision, I see Peregrine and Chloe staring at me. Get out! I cry in my head to whatever’s inside me.
“Glory, who did it?” I hear Peregrine ask, but she sounds muffled and far away. “Who killed you? Was it Main de Lumière?”
I feel the spirit inside me gathering its strength to reply. “Yessssss,” the voice hisses.
“Did you see your killer?” I hear Peregrine demand, a desperate edge to her voice. “Is it someone we already trust?”
The only thing that comes out of my mouth is, “In your midst.”
The coldness begins to fade, and I can once again feel the tips of my fingers and toes. Eveny, says an urgent voice in my head just before the icy chill is gone. I recognize Glory’s drawl immediately. I didn’t see my killer, but it was someone who knew exactly where I’d be. It must have been a friend.
The Dolls Page 10
