The Dolls Read online

  “You screwed up,” Peregrine corrects, turning to glare at me.

  “I’ll call him now,” I mutter. But I dial his number three times, and each time, it goes directly to voice mail.

  “We just have to wait for him to get here,” Chloe says.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whisper.

  “You should be,” Peregrine says. “Not only is the Main de Lumière traitor still out there, but now we’re down one sosyete member for our ceremony at a time we could use all the help we can get. Excellent work, Eveny.”

  Caleb arrives forty-five minutes later, just after twelve thirty, his suit rumpled, his eyes wild.

  “I was wrong about Arelia,” I blurt out as soon as he walks through the door.

  He glances at me as he greets Peregrine and Chloe. “Yeah,” he says, running his hand distractedly over the top of his head. “I know. She told me everything.”

  “What happened to her?” I ask in a small voice, my heart hammering.

  “She’s fine. She’s with Boniface. She was too shaken up to come along.”

  “She must hate my guts,” I say.

  “You were only doing what you thought was right,” Caleb says after a minute. “I don’t think she blames you. She knows she lied.”

  “But that was her secret to keep if she wanted to,” I say.

  “The bigger problem,” he says, “is that the killer is still out there.”

  Peregrine comes over and whispers something to him, and he disappears for a few minutes with her. I’m sitting by myself in the corner of the room, nursing the same glass of champagne I was handed an hour ago, when he gets back, a tall glass of what I assume is gin and tonic in his hand. He doesn’t look at me once as he joins the group.

  “Loosen up, baby,” Pascal purrs at me as he makes his way to the kitchen for another cocktail. He’s slightly unsteady on his feet. “This is supposed to be fun.”

  “Don’t you understand?” I shoot back. “We could die tonight. We don’t know who’s trying to hurt us.”

  He snorts. “Nothing’s going to happen here. Geez, Eveny, could you just give the let’s-save-the-world crap a rest for once?”

  When the clock strikes one, the whole group moves upstairs and out to the huge balcony overlooking Chartres Street, two blocks away from the famous Bourbon Street. The road below us is still throbbing with people, and I back against the wall, my whole body tense, as Peregrine and Chloe lean over the rail and flirt with guys, and as Pascal throws beads out to the dozens of girls who seem all too happy to show him their breasts.

  “I love Mardi Gras!” he shouts, laughing, as a pair of twins flash him enthusiastically. I catch Caleb’s eye for a millisecond and am heartened to see him looking as uneasy as I feel. I brace myself and head over to him.

  “Hey,” I say. “Are you mad at me about Arelia?”

  “No, of course not,” he says. “But why did you release me from being your protector?”

  I’m startled at the anger in his eyes. “I was trying to help you.”

  “I didn’t ask for your help.”

  “You didn’t have to. It wasn’t fair to you, Caleb. The whole system of you having to put your life on the line for me? I can’t ask you to do that.”

  “That wasn’t your decision to make.” He walks away before I can say anything else.

  I turn to see Peregrine staring at me with an indecipherable expression on her face. She looks away after a moment and claps her hands. “People!” she yells, and then when everyone just goes right on reveling, she whistles loudly, and the conversation on the balcony comes to a halt. “It’s time,” she says.

  The world below us on Chartres suddenly seems far away and disconnected as she leads the group into the house and into a huge chamber that looks like a much larger and more ornate version of my parlor. Several crystal chandeliers hang in the shadows on the ceiling, and blood-red candles flicker everywhere.

  Peregrine asks us to join hands, and Caleb winds up on my right side. His grasp is so warm and comforting, it makes my heart hurt.

  Pascal grabs my other hand and says, “Just go with it. Open yourself. There’s nothing in the world like being possessed. On Mardi Gras, it’s supposed to be positively orgasmic.”

  I play along as Peregrine moves to the center of the circle, lights a cluster of dandelion and anise seed and calls to Eloi Oke. Chloe steps into the middle of the circle as she and Peregrine raise their hands to the sky and begin to dance in the center of the room. They’re chanting softly, and as the tempo picks up, the rest of the group begins chanting too.

  “Open yourself, Eveny,” Margaux hisses at me across the circle just before her eyes turn empty. “Don’t be so selfish as to think you’re above all this. It’s your fault Arelia’s not here to help us.”

  I glance at Caleb, but his eyes are already glazed over; he seems to have slipped into another level of consciousness along with everyone else.

  One by one, around the circle, I see people’s expressions go blank. Everyone’s still singing the same phrase over and over—something like, “Esprits du passé, entre en moi.”

  I search my rudimentary French knowledge; they’re saying something along the lines of Spirits, enter into me.

  As a breeze picks up inside the room, I feel something pushing at the corner of my mind. I know without asking that it’s a spirit trying to get in; it feels like the pressure just before Glory’s spirit slipped into my body at Cristof’s. I push the presence away; I have to keep my wits about me tonight.

  Move aside, girl, a hissing voice in my head says suddenly. I want to use you.

  “No,” I say aloud. Caleb glances quickly at me and then goes back to looking blank. Everyone else in the circle seems lost in his or her own world; they’re all stumbling around now. They’re all possessed.

  Move aside, I said! The voice in my head is more insistent now, and I mentally push back. The spirit trying to get in is stronger than I expected. Do you really think you can stop me?

  I summon all my energy and push back. “Yes,” I say aloud. “I do.” There’s a sharp pain on the left side of my head, and then, all is quiet, and the pressure is gone. The spirit has moved on.

  Soon, the rest of the Dolls begin acting like they’ve gone crazy. I watch, my breath caught in my throat, as Margaux flings herself to the ground, wailing and rolling around. Peregrine’s eyes are wide and her limbs rubbery as she contorts into Gumby-like positions that no human body should be able to move into. Justin is lying on his back, languidly making snow angels on the marble floor, while Pascal and Chloe are draped all over each other, their hands roaming each other’s bodies. Even Patrick and Oscar are dancing in the corner with blank expressions, and Caleb is leaning against the wall, moaning softly with his eyes closed.

  I take a deep breath and pretend that I’m possessed too, so that the other spirits won’t get suspicious.

  I cringe as Oscar begins to rub up against me. I take a deep breath and let it happen for a moment, playing the part. Then I begin to dance, as if the spirit inside of me would rather do that than be groped. Oscar follows, grunting at me, but then he loses interest and moves over to Margaux, who’s rubbing herself against a chair now.

  Peregrine finally writhes over to the giant triangle in the corner of the room, picks up the wand that lies beside it, and strikes it. The sound reverberates through the house, and everyone stops what they’re doing instantly and heads in a single file line toward a door in the corner of the room. Peregrine opens it, revealing a big walk-in closet containing at least a hundred silk robes in varying shades of gold, green, and purple. One wall is filled entirely with elaborate feathered masks propped on long, wooden shelves.

  Without speaking, the others begin shedding their clothes with a complete lack of self-consciousness. Margaux simply steps out of her dress, bra-less, and casually grabs a robe from the wall, cinching it around her waist. Chloe and Peregrine are both wearing elaborate, lacy lingerie sets, but they don’t seem worried about an
yone seeing them as they shed their dresses too and step into robes. Everyone is still possessed, as evidenced by the completely empty looks on their faces, and my heart thuds faster as I realize I’ll need to take off my clothes too.

  For an instant, I could swear Caleb’s hesitating. But then his face goes blank, and he begins taking his suit off slowly. At least he’s not really in there, I tell myself as I unzip my dress.

  I try not to look as he peels off his jacket then his shirt, revealing abs that look like they’ve been chiseled from stone and arms that ripple with strength. I bite my lower lip as he unbuckles his belt, unzips his pants and takes them off, revealing a pair of charcoal gray boxer briefs. I hurry to shrug off my own dress as he throws on a green robe from the closet. It feels like Caleb is watching me, but he goes back to swaying languidly as soon as I look in his direction. I swallow hard, slip into a rich emerald robe that matches Caleb’s, and cinch the belt tightly.

  Once everyone is done donning robes, Peregrine grabs a mask—an elaborate white one with gold swirls and black feathers—and pulls it on. Everyone quickly follows suit, so I take a deep breath, pick up a gold mask with long white and green feathers, pull it over my face, and watch as Caleb puts on a black mask trimmed in gold.

  Peregrine makes a grunting sound, then she emerges from the closet and strikes the triangle again. Everyone instantly lines up and follows her down the stairs and toward the front door of the mansion. I fall into line, just in front of Caleb, and when I feel his hand on my hips through the cool silk of my robe, I have to remind myself that it’s not really him, that he’s not really there. Still, his touch sears me.

  The front door opens ahead of us, and as it does, the sounds of the outside world pour in. The street is still overflowing with drunken revelers, and many of them turn to stare as we move out of the house and into the crowd.

  “I told you this is the place with the sluts in robes,” I hear a rough-looking bearded guy in a stained T-shirt slur to his friend. “I call the hot black chick with the crazy hair.”

  “I’ll take the blonde,” his friend growls back.

  I watch in horror as the two men move toward Peregrine and Chloe and begin trying to talk to them. When Peregrine and Chloe don’t respond and instead just continue swaying their way down the street, the rougher-looking one who’d called dibs on Peregrine reaches for her, his hand roughly grazing her breasts. She doesn’t react at all. They’re not really in there, I tell myself. They don’t know this is happening. But then Caleb comes out of nowhere and barrels into the guy groping Peregrine.

  “What the f—?” the guy growls, turning to Caleb. But Caleb is flailing wildly now and catches the bearded guy square in the jaw with his elbow. An instant later, his knee connects with the other guy’s crotch, sending him sprawling and wincing in pain.

  “Dude, he’s just as effed up as they are,” says the guy on the ground, clutching his crotch protectively and rolling away from Caleb. “Maybe he’s their boyfriend or something.”

  Caleb sways unsteadily away from the men, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was herding an oblivious Peregrine and Chloe in the other direction.

  “Caleb?” I call out, suddenly sure that he’s faking it too. But then he goes back to writhing strangely, and my heart sinks.

  The group stays loosely together as we turn left, heading toward the bigger crowd on Bourbon. One by one, members of our group begin drifting off, and I resist the urge to try to protect them from the crowd. I remind myself that they’ve all come here willingly. I cringe as strangers reach out from the crowd to grope me, and I cinch my belt tighter.

  The closer we get to Bourbon Street, the wilder the crowd is. I’m losing sight of more of the members of our group, and I feel a sense of panic setting in. The only Dolls in my eyesight are Pascal and Margaux, and both of them are up ahead, getting swallowed in the sea of people.

  “Wait!” I cry out before clamping a hand over my mouth. I’m supposed to look possessed. I take a deep breath, heart thudding, and continue to play along, although I dance through the crowd more quickly now, trying to catch up to the others.

  I feel a pair of hands grab my waist, and as I try to wriggle away, the grip grows tighter. I feel a lump of fear in my throat as I pull harder and the hands begin pulling me back.

  “Let me go!” I cry, dropping the possessed act. When I feel myself being dragged forcefully away from the street, I begin to scream.

  All around me, people are too caught up in their own drinking, partying, singing, and making out to notice me. I grab a man’s hand as I’m dragged past, but he merely shakes me off. “Help!” I scream, clutching at a group of guys with bloodshot eyes, who are swaying on their feet as they discuss what to do next. The only one I make contact with brushes away the spot I’d grabbed like he’s swatting a fly. I cry out once more, struggling against the person behind me, who’s dressed all in black. He’s pulling me toward a darkened alley.

  “Just come quietly,” he says suddenly in my ear. “I have a knife, Eveny, and I’m more than happy to use it on anyone who tries to save you.”

  “Who are you?” I struggle to turn around in the shadows and see his face, the top half of which is totally covered with an elaborate silver mask. Just then, we pass beneath a streetlight and I gasp. His mouth is completely covered in crimson stains, just like the single one that showed up on Arelia’s cheek. But how? I haven’t kissed anyone on the lips tonight.

  I realize suddenly, though, that Liv did. While wearing my gloss. “Drew,” I breathe.

  The pieces tumble into place quickly. The way Drew happened to show up at my door right after I arrived back in town. The eagerness with which he kept hanging around even after he realized I was interested in Caleb. The way he moved on seamlessly to Liv, which still kept him in my immediate circle of trusted friends. The truck crash that would have most likely killed me if I hadn’t reached for my stone.

  He’s the Main de Lumière soldier, the one Aloysius Vauclain said had gone rogue.

  There’s only one question left. “Why the hell are you doing this?”

  “What, did you think we were friends?” His laughter is coarse and cruel. “I know all about you and your slutty sister queens. I know how you’ve been making yourselves richer at our expense. You’re everything that’s wrong with this society, but it stops tonight.”

  “You don’t understand, Drew,” I protest as he drags me farther into the alley. “You’re making a mistake.”

  “Shut up, Eveny,” he sneers. “And try to relax. It’ll only hurt for a minute when I stop your heart.”

  32

  Drew pulls me toward the end of a long, closed passageway between two dilapidated buildings, and as he does, the sounds of Bourbon Street become more and more muted behind us. As Drew jerks me closer, he presses the knife deeper into my side in warning. He’s already sliced through my robe, and I can feel the blade cutting into my skin.

  “I’ve been training for this moment for a long time,” he says as we move deeper into the blackness. He shoves me against a wall. “Nothing’s getting in my way tonight.”

  Hands shaking, I reach up and rip his mask off. I’m unprepared for the wide range of emotions I see playing across his face. His features are twisted in anger, but I also see sadness and regret.

  “How long have you been part of Main de Lumière?” I ask.

  He tears off my mask too and pins me against the wall. “They came to me when I was thirteen and told me everything: the way you zandara whores destroy the balance of the universe; the way you keep getting richer while people like me suffer; the way every little thing in your pathetic lives is fake.”

  “They’re just using you, Drew. Don’t you realize that?”

  This earns me a slap across the face. “You don’t know a damned thing. We’re not in Carrefour anymore. This is my game now.” He calms down after a pause and resumes his story. “They told me that ending your life was the only way to fix things. All I had to do was
learn Main de Lumière’s tactics and wait for you to come home.”

  Something in his eyes flickers, and he looks away.

  “But you didn’t even know I’d be back,” I say.

  “Of course I did. Main de Lumière knew. It was only a matter of time until your aunt decided you’d be safer in Carrefour. And I was paid handsomely to train in methods of murdering zandara practitioners while we waited for your return.”

  I reach for my Stone of Carrefour, but Drew sees me and grabs my hand before I can get to it. He pins both of my arms against the wall above my head and sneers at me. “Really, Eveny? You really thought I’d let you use your evil magic on me?”

  I struggle to get away, but he holds me tighter. Finally, I relax my arms. “I don’t understand how you could hate me so much.”

  “It’s not really about you,” he says. “It’s about the bigger picture.”

  I take a deep breath. “You were my friend when we were kids—my mom was friends with your mom—and you threw that all away because they fed you some lies about zandara and promised to pay you?”

  He glares at me. “You’re stupider than I thought. Of course it’s not just for money. Once they told me about who you really were, I began to understand how much you queens are screwing with fate and the lives of my friends and family. I saw the good Main de Lumière was doing by eliminating people like you from the world. And you know what? I wanted to be a part of it.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “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 Général 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.”