They were meant to bleed her dry.
She took a deep breath, trying to banish the fear that always crept over her when she thought about Maximilian and Eugenia. When she thought about how their love for little Elisabeta had twisted into something dark and ugly in the wake of their grief.
“They say I’m going to be okay,” she said softly, reaching out to take Sasha’s hand. “Thanks to you guys.”
Sasha smiled. “We could say the same for you.”
After Claire had gotten home from the hospital, it was Allegra who had told her about the doll babies that had already been immersed in the potion containing her blood.
One of them had been Allegra’s. One of them had been Laura’s.
And one had been Xander’s.
They sat in silence for a few more minutes before Sasha spoke again. “How are your parents handling everything?”
Claire sighed. “I think they feel guilty. You know, that they weren’t the ones to save us.”
Allegra had told Claire the story. How Sasha and Xander had gone to their parents and told them everything after they found Claire’s bike. How the Guild had called the police and reported Claire missing instead of asking Allegra or someone else in the Guild to help find her. How it had rocked the firstborns, seeing their parents turn to law enforcement instead of the craft when they were supposedly its biggest advocates.
It was the firstborns who’d taken matters into their own hands, calling on Eddie and using Allegra’s second sight to see the sign for Loman’s Creek and the bridge Claire had been marched across by Eugenia, Herve, and Jean-Philip.
“Any word on Maximilian?” Sasha asked her after a couple of minutes.
Claire shook her head. “And Eugenia and her sons still aren’t talking.”
Once they’d gotten away from the ritual site, one of the Valcour twins had contacted their parents with the license plate of the Range Rover. The police had picked all three of them up a few miles from the site.
Maximilian hadn’t been with them.
“So he really got away.” There was defeat in Sasha’s voice.
Claire had to swallow the fear that rose in her at the thought of Maximilian roaming the streets.
“For now.”
“Have you seen Xander?” Sasha asked.
“He’s been by a couple of times, but I’ve been so out of it. I don’t even remember what we talked about.”
“He’s been worried sick about you,” Sasha said. “I don’t even think he’s bothered to hide it from his parents.”
Claire thought about it, wondering how Estelle Toussaint felt about her only son loving a disbelieving voodoo heiress who had spent most of her life wanting nothing more than to escape the confines of their tradition.
Then she realized it didn’t really matter.
She was wheeling her bike out of the store when she ran into her dad, replacing the lid on one of the trash cans on the pathway that ran along the side of the house.
He eyed her bike dubiously. “You sure you’re ready for that?”
Claire nodded. “I think so. I feel better. A lot better. And I need to get out. Get some fresh air. I’ve been cooped up in the house for almost two weeks. Besides, I want to see Xander.”
He smacked his hands together to clean them off. “I’m not sure your mom’s going to be too happy about your riding around town just yet.”
Claire knew he was worried about Maximilian. That he was still out there somewhere.
“I can’t stay home forever.” She stepped forward, kissing her dad on the cheek. Then she reached into her shirt and pulled out the gris-gris bag that Xander had given her when they’d gone to see Eddie. She’d worn it inside her shirt ever since she’d come home from the hospital. “Besides, tell her I’m wearing this.”
The worry didn’t leave his eyes, but a slow smile crept across his mouth. “Be careful. And text me when you get to the Toussaints’.”
She swung one leg over the bicycle seat. “Will do, Dad. See ya.”
She pedaled down the driveway and into the street. Her legs were weak at first, like she was learning to ride a bike all over again. But as she came closer to the Garden District, the city’s heavy, warm wind brushing her face like a friend, she started to feel free for the first time in ages.
The skin on her forearms was tight as she gripped the handlebars, the wounds under her bandages starting to itch as they healed. She would have scars forever. It was something she’d learn to live with.
Her stomach fluttered a little as she turned onto Xander’s street. Even though he’d been to her house more than once over the past couple of weeks, this was the first time Claire really felt in control.
Like she knew what she wanted.
It was surprisingly scary. Knowing what you wanted also meant the possibility of losing it.
She’d learn to live with that, too.
She pulled through the gates at the head of the Toussaints’ driveway, slowing when she came to the house. She walked the bike to the fence and leaned it against the iron railing.
“Claire!” Sophie came bounding from the side of the house, throwing herself at Claire. Her forearms stung as she wrapped her arms around Sophie’s small body, but she didn’t mind. It was the first time someone had treated her like they used to. Like she was still the same old Claire and not something fragile and broken.
“Is Xander home?” she asked.
Sophie nodded. “In the house. I’d take you, but I’m playing hide-and-seek with Betsy and I don’t have much time left.”
“I understand,” Claire said with a smile. “I know the way in.”
She skipped off, and Claire headed for the porch. She was almost to the stairs when Betsy opened the front door.
“Claire! My goodness, child! What are you doing here? Aren’t you still recovering?”
Claire stopped at the bottom of the stairs, already a little tired. “I’m feeling a lot better, actually.” She remembered Sophie. “I thought you were playing hide-and-seek with Sophie.”
“Psh! I just tell her that to get her out from under my feet now and then,” she said.
Claire laughed. “Nice! Um . . . Is Xander around?”
Betsy grinned, stepping onto the porch. “He sure is. And I’m willing to bet you’ll wipe the sour look off his face, too. Been carrying it around ever since that night.”
Claire wasn’t sure how much Betsy knew, but the police had been told it was a garden-variety kidnapping by a voodoo nutcase. Since Eugenia, Herve, and Jean-Philip weren’t talking, it was doubtful they were going to say anything different.
“Let me help you now,” Betsy said, starting down the steps. “Alexandre is in the—” She stopped as Xander came out onto the porch, followed by Estelle and Bernard, and surprisingly, Eddie Clement. “Oh, there he is!”
She’d come to see Xander, but she couldn’t hide her surprise at seeing Eddie, standing on the Toussaints’ porch like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Eddie?”
He hurried down the steps with open arms, squeezing her in an embrace. The scent of sandalwood drifted to her from his printed tunic.
He pulled back, studying her face. “You look pretty good, all things considered.”
“Thanks to you,” she said. “You and everyone else.”
He chuckled. “Are you kidding? I’ve wanted to lead a black magic smackdown for years.” His expression darkened. “But I am glad you’re okay. You had us worried there for a while.”
She smiled. “What are you doing here?”
Eddie glanced back at the Toussaints. “Let’s just say the Toussaints and I were discussing a potential partnership. But that’s Guild business. I’ll tell you all about it later.” He looked at Xander. “I’m guessing you have more important things on your mind.”
He h
eaded down the walkway.
“We’ll see you Tuesday,” Bernard called out to him.
Tuesday? Claire felt like she’d woken up in some kind of alternative reality. That was the only way to explain the fact that the Toussaints were being friendly to Eddie Clement. That they were talking about Guild business with him.
Obviously, a lot had happened in the weeks she’d been recovering.
Claire turned to Xander. All of the fear and pain seeped out of her at the sight of him.
He stepped off the porch and then stopped. She saw the conflict in his eyes as his parents stood watching.
Claire looked at the Toussaints, not wanting to be rude. “Hello, Aunt Estelle and Uncle Bernard.”
Bernard put his arm around his wife. “Hello, Claire. Are you feeling better?”
She nodded. “Much, thank you.”
She moved toward Xander, her eyes on him every step of the way. She didn’t stop until she was right in front of him, only a couple of inches between their bodies.
She looked up, feeling shy. “Hi.”
He swallowed nervously. “Hi.”
“I hope it’s okay that I came,” she said.
“It’s more than okay,” he said softly.
He stood still, his hands at his sides. Waiting, she knew, for her.
She took a step forward and stood on her tiptoes, wrapping her arms around his neck as Estelle and Bernard looked on.
She breathed in the smell of him, the feel of him. “I’ve missed you.”
His arms snaked around her waist, pulling her tight against him. “I’ve missed you, too.”
There were still things she didn’t know.
She didn’t know what she believed. If she had really saved the firstborns—and if they had really saved her. If she had really seen the loas rise into the night sky to protect them or if it had been a product of her imagination and the massive blood loss she’d endured. If she would grow into her place in the Guild or travel another path entirely.
But she knew that she wasn’t alone. That there were people who loved her, who would come to her aid if she needed them. That she was part of something honored and true. Something worth holding on to.
Most of all, she knew that she loved Xander.
That she believed in him. In them.
And as he took her hand and turned to his parents with a smile, she knew that was what mattered.
Everything else, she would figure out along the way.
Acknowledgments
First thanks, always, go to Steven Malk, who is the finest agent anyone could ever ask for.
Thanks also to Nancy Conescu for advocating tirelessly on my behalf; to Jessica Shoffel, who might just be the most kickass publicist in the history of publicists; and to everyone at Penguin/Dial for giving my work a home.
Thank you to all the people who gave me up close and personal information about what it’s like to live in and love Louisiana and the city of New Orleans, including Lisa Conescu, Stephanie Pellegrin, Owen Pellegrin, Kate Bass, Rachel Bellavia, Jacqueline Goff, Katy Davison Monnot, and Andrea Northrop. Your comments, memories, and observations are woven through every word of this book.
Much gratitude to cherished friends and colleagues Saundra Mitchell, Stacey Jay, Carrie Ryan, Tonya Hurley, Ellen Hopkins, Tamora Pearce, Lisa Mantchev, Georgia McBride, and Jennifer Draeger.
Heartfelt appreciation to every reader who supports my work, spreads the word, keeps me company online, and encourages me in so many ways, big and small. I like to think you know who you are.
Thanks to my mother, Claudia Baker; my father, Michael St. James; and to Morgan Doyle, Anthony Galazzo, Eileen Cole, and all the people who support and believe in me on a daily basis.
Finally, my deepest gratitude goes to Kenneth, Rebekah, Andrew, and Caroline for all that you do and all that you are. You are my guiding lights.
MICHELLE ZINK (michellezink.com) is a mother of four, living in Pine Bush, New York. She is the author of the Prophecy of the Sisters trilogy and A Temptation of Angels.
Michelle Zink, This Wicked Game
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