This Wicked Game

by Michelle Zink

  Claire gave Sasha a brief glare before turning to Allegra with a smile. “We’re just surprised to see you, that’s all. What’s up?”

  Allegra leaned in, her glossy black ponytail hanging over one shoulder. “Why don’t you tell me?”

  The words hung in the air for what seemed like forever before Claire was able to formulate a response. Even then, it wasn’t exactly brilliant.

  “Uh . . . What do you mean?”

  “Seriously?” Allegra tipped her head, looking from Claire to Sasha and back to Claire again. “That’s how you’re going to play it?”

  Claire was relieved when Sasha stepped in. “Why don’t you tell us what you’re getting at, Allegra? Save us all time.”

  Allegra leaned back. “You’re keeping secrets. I don’t know exactly what they are, but I’ve been seeing them.”

  “Seeing them?” Claire repeated.

  “I get these . . . visions . . . dreams,” Allegra explained. “I don’t know. Call them what you want. I don’t get them all the time, but when I do, they’re almost always right.”

  Sasha’s face was guarded. “And you’ve been getting them lately?”

  “Yeah, but I’m only getting pieces. Something about pictures and . . . letters, I think, and maybe a little girl or something. I can’t make sense of it.”

  “A little girl?” Claire could explain the pictures and the letters, but the little girl didn’t fit.

  Allegra waved her hand. “Whatever. You know how it is; I can’t always see the details right away.”

  Claire didn’t know how it was, but she didn’t say anything.

  “The point is,” Allegra continued, “something’s going on. I’ve been feeling a threat for a long time. A threat against the Guild. But I haven’t been able to see it clearly. Then the thing with the panther blood happens, and all of a sudden, I see all this other stuff.” She looked pointedly at Claire. “Then, I started seeing you.”

  “Me?” Claire’s stomach turned over. This was the second time that someone from the Guild had told her they’d had a dream or vision involving her.

  Allegra nodded. “I think it’s all tied together, but the parents have locked lips. No one’s talking, not even my mother, and you know how unusual that is.”

  Claire considered her options. She could deny everything. Wait for Allegra to leave and fill Sasha in like she’d planned. But Allegra knew. Claire didn’t know Allegra well, but she was willing to bet that she wasn’t the kind of girl who would just give up and walk away. Not when she sensed a threat and a secret.

  “What makes you think I know anything?” Claire finally asked.

  Allegra shrugged. “Call it a hunch. Only my hunches are better than most.”

  Xander wasn’t going to like it. He hadn’t even wanted Sasha to know.

  Claire sighed. “Okay, but this is just between us. Between us and Xander. No parents and no Guild until we say so. You have to agree or I can’t tell you anything.”

  “Done,” Allegra said without hesitation.

  Claire looked at Sasha. “Sash?”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Sasha sounded offended. “If you tell me not to say anything, I won’t say anything. You know that.”

  Claire’s nod was slow as she tried to think of a place to begin. Finally, she reached into her bag and pulled out the letters she’d printed from her computer. She pushed them across the table.

  Allegra reached for the stack of paper. “What is this?”

  “They’re letters. Just . . . look at them,” Claire said. “I took them with my phone, but I transferred them to my computer and printed them out. I think they’re pretty clear now.”

  Allegra unfolded the papers and shuffled through them.

  “Who talks like this?” she asked, setting them down on the table. “It’s like reading Shakespeare.”

  “Look at the dates,” Claire instructed.

  Allegra sighed and picked up the letters again.

  “Eighteen eighty?” She looked up.

  “Turn them over and look at the signature lines,” Claire said softly.

  Sasha grabbed the stack of paper out of Allegra’s hands. She shuffled through the pages, turning them over as she went.

  Finally, she looked up to meet Claire’s eyes. “These are from Marie the First.”

  Allegra sat up straighter. “What?”

  Sasha looked at her. “Marie the First? Marie Laveau?”

  Allegra rolled her eyes. “I know who Marie the First is. It’s just . . . Let me see those again.”

  Sasha handed her the pages.

  “Is this really her handwriting?” There was awe in Allegra’s voice.

  “I think so,” Claire said.

  “Claire . . . Where did you get these?” Sasha asked

  It took Claire a minute to find the words, but once she did, she couldn’t stop. She began with the fact that Eugenia Comaneci had known her name, something she’d only told the Guild leadership and Xander. Then she told Sasha and Allegra everything else, only leaving out the conversation she and Xander had overheard between Maximilian and Estelle.

  Some secrets weren’t hers to tell.

  By the time she finished recounting their mission to the house on Dauphine, her hands were shaking.

  When she was done, the two girls just sat there, staring at her with something like shock.

  “My picture was there, too?” Sasha asked, her voice just above a whisper.

  Claire nodded. “But yours and Xander’s didn’t have Xs. We think the ones that are marked are connected to the families that have had break-ins.”

  “So the pictures that had Xs—including mine—are the ones whose houses have already been broken into?” Allegra asked.

  “Well, we don’t know for sure,” Claire said. “But it kind of makes sense.”

  “And what, Xander and I will be next?” Sasha asked.

  “I don’t know,” Claire admitted. “But these letters could be a clue.”

  Sasha picked up the papers and flipped through them again. “Why not just take them to the Guild?”

  “We’re going to—eventually. It’s . . .” She struggled for a way to explain without exposing Estelle. “It’s complicated.”

  “I think it’s smart to keep this from them,”Allegra announced.

  Sasha looked at her in surprise. “You do?”

  Allegra made a sound of frustration. “Come on. Do you really think our parents have any idea how to handle a threat? A real threat?” She continued without waiting for their answer. “They’ve only been in charge for what? Twenty years? And in that time nothing remotely interesting has happened. Everyone’s played by the rules and they’ve just . . . sat back, running their little stores in peace.”

  Sasha frowned. “Not all of the Guild supply houses are small.”

  “You know what I mean. The Guild has become another high society clique. Our mothers are more concerned with headpieces for the ball and which charitable board they’re on than with overseeing the use of the craft. And our fathers are more concerned about keeping peace with our mothers. The Guild could be working to keep voodoo relevant. The timing’s right. People are into all kinds of stuff: homeopathy, eastern religion, meditation, even paganism has made a comeback. But if the Guild has their way, the world of voodoo will stay a secret, just the way they like it.”

  Claire blinked in surprise. She’d never heard Allegra speak so passionately about anything.

  But that didn’t mean she was right.

  Claire thought about her mother, saw her kneeling in front of the altar, her face smooth and calm. Claire didn’t know about anyone else’s parents, but her mother still practiced the craft. Still believed. It was hard to imagine that she didn’t want others to believe, too.

  “Actually,” Sasha said, sounding surprised, “I k
ind of agree with you.”

  “Right?” Allegra leaned forward, her excitement at finding a sympathetic ear apparent on her face. “Did either of you ask your parents about the panther blood? About what the Guild planned to do about it?”

  “I did,” Claire said.

  “What did they say?” Allegra kept going. “Let me guess; we’ve got it all under control. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

  “Not exactly,” Claire said.

  “Did they give you answers?” Allegra asked. “Even after you attended the meeting?”

  “No,” Claire admitted.

  “Right. Because they don’t have any. They’re going to look the other way and pretend this—whatever it is—isn’t happening, because the truth is they don’t know what to do about it. They don’t want to know.” She leaned back in her chair, looking at Claire. “I think we should find out what the letters mean before we tell anyone else. Maybe then we’ll be able to figure out what’s going on.”

  Claire wondered when “we” had become not only her and Xander and Sasha, but Allegra, too.

  “I guess you have a point,” Sasha conceded. “But how? I’ve never heard of this woman named Sorina. And to call the letters vague is the understatement of the century.”

  “True,” Claire admitted. “But they’re all we have.” She looked at her phone, checking the time. Xander was waiting for her call. Waiting to hear how it had gone with Sasha. “I have to call—” She stopped herself, remembering that she and Sasha weren’t alone.

  Allegra raised her eyebrows. “Xander?” She rolled her eyes. “Please. I’ve known about you two forever.”

  FOURTEEN

  “You know you can’t tell anyone about this, right?”

  Xander was sitting next to Claire at the Muddy Cup. It had taken her fifteen minutes on the phone to convince him that there was no point keeping Allegra out of things. He’d finally agreed to meet them when Claire swore she hadn’t said a word about the possible connection between Estelle and Maximilian.

  “I’m on your side,” Allegra said. “Anything we give the Guild will just disappear into the Cone of Silence.”

  Sasha laughed.

  “Seriously,” Allegra continued. “We’d never know what, if anything, they’d done with the information. And the truth is, it probably wouldn’t be much. I don’t even think most of them are that powerful. Working potions for love and protection is a whole different thing than dealing with black magic and a threat that could involve all of us. I just don’t think they’re equipped, you know?”

  “Okay,” Claire said, shuffling through the letters. “The only thing we have to go on is this woman named Sorina and the spell she and Marie were talking about.”

  “The Cold Blood spell,” Sasha said.

  Claire looked around nervously before nodding. “Right. I’m thinking we start at home, check out our family resource material for any mention of Sorina or this spell. Between the four of us, we have some serious voodoo history right under our own roofs.”

  “My mom keeps some really old recipe books locked up in our ritual room,” Allegra said. “I’ll see if I can get a look at them.”

  “Just remember, nobody says anything to the Guild until we all agree,” Xander said.

  “We can meet here tomorrow and compare notes,” Claire suggested.

  “Sounds like a plan,” Sasha said.

  They talked for a few more minutes before Allegra and Sasha got up to leave, Allegra talking nonstop as they moved away from the table. They were almost to the door when Sasha glanced back, mouthing the words, “Help me.”

  Claire laughed, picking up her bag and following Xander outside.

  “I’ll give you a ride,” he said. “We can throw your bike in the back.”

  “No thanks,” she squeezed his hand. “I want to think, clear my head.”

  “I’m not crazy about the idea of you riding around the city by yourself with everything that’s going on.”

  She smiled. “I’m fine. It’s not that far. Besides, it’s not like the firstborns are being snatched off the street. With all the break-ins, I’m probably in more danger at home.”

  “Great. I feel so much better now,” he said sarcastically.

  “I love you.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss him. “But you worry too much.” She lifted her leg over the bike, glancing back at him. “I’ll text you when I get home.”

  She started pedaling. A couple of minutes later, she left the busy streets behind and was gliding through the shade of the towering oaks in the residential district. She wasn’t the only one taking advantage of summer. In one front yard, two toddlers ran through sprinklers, squealing and giggling while their mother sat on the porch, flipping the pages of a magazine with a glass of iced tea by her side. Claire passed a couple of girls about her age, deep in discussion as they traversed the cracked, uneven sidewalk. Somewhere in the distance, a lawn mower hummed the sound track to every summer she could remember.

  She wondered if it would be different in New York or New Hampshire or Connecticut. If kids ran through sprinklers, if teenage girls shared their secrets on long walks, if everyone mowed their lawn. For a minute, she felt a pang of loss so powerful her heart hurt. The truth was, no matter how much she wanted to get away, New Orleans was her home.

  She would miss it.

  She was thinking about the people at the house on Dauphine, wondering what could bring such an odd group of people halfway around the world to the Guild’s doorstep, when she glanced to the left to make sure she was clear for a turn.

  That’s when she noticed the car behind her.

  In this part of town, the Range Rover stood out like a sore thumb. It was black, just like the one Eugenia and the men had gotten out of in front of the house on Dauphine. Claire looked again, trying to make it casual as she tried to get a glimpse at who was driving. It was hopeless. The windows were tinted just enough to make identifying the driver impossible.

  She made the turn, watching in her peripheral vision to see if the car followed her. It did, and her heartbeat picked up its pace, beads of sweat jumping out on her forehead as panic hit her system.

  She calculated the distance to home. Probably less than a mile.

  She was relieved to see a balding man in plaid pants brushing a fresh coat of white paint on the columns fronting his porch. Across the street, a woman was bent over a flower bed, planting a row of azaleas from under the shade of her wide-brimmed hat.

  Claire tried to calm herself with the knowledge of their presence. It’s not like whoever was in the Rover would do something to her with witnesses around. Would they?

  She focused on the road, on the swiftly closing distance between where she was and her house, now only two streets over. When she turned right at the next corner, she dared a glance behind her, hoping the car wouldn’t follow.

  It did.

  She pedaled faster. One more block. One block and another right turn and her driveway would be there.

  A blue SUV came into view, slowly backing out of one of the driveways. Claire contemplated trying to beat it, going around in an effort to lose the Rover. After a moment’s indecision, she hit the brakes, stopping as the car reversed all the way into the street. A look back confirmed that the Rover was still there, idling quietly behind her. She saw the shadow of the driver, but she couldn’t even tell if it was a man or a woman.

  The driver of the SUV—a woman with a boy in the passenger seat next to her—lifted a hand to Claire before heading down the street. At least someone had been witness to her presence there.

  She started moving again, picking up speed, pumping the pedals so hard that she was standing on them as she made the final turn onto her street. She didn’t even look back to see if the Rover was still there. She focused on her house, half hidden by old trees and the bushes that seemed to grow wild near the ir
on gate. Then she was coasting up the driveway, steering her bike into the shelter of Spanish moss hanging from the giant elm tree next door.

  She wondered if it was her imagination that someone stared at her from behind the darkened windows of the Rover as it drove past, finally disappearing beyond the edge of the property.

  Claire took a hot shower, washing off the sweat and dirt of the day and changing into loose boxer shorts and a T-shirt. Her parents were at some kind of charity event, so she had plenty of time to go through the family spell and potion books.

  But there was something she wanted to do first.

  The old group photo was still nagging at her, and she opened her computer, looking for the pictures she’d uploaded from the house on Dauphine.

  Scrolling through the photos, she stopped on the group picture. Everyone was standing on the lawn, all of them wearing a mix of clothes that looked slightly out of date.

  Not quite retro, but not exactly current, either.

  She zoomed in as much as she dared, not wanting to lose too much clarity on the faces, and hit the PRINT button. When it was done, she pulled the piece of paper out of the tray and hopped onto her bed, sitting cross-legged against the pillows.

  The picture was definitely older. The faded colors in the photograph, the hairstyles, even the bags the women carried shrieked 1990s. The people seemed to know each other. Some of the couples had their arms around each other. That was to be expected. But even a couple of the men were clasping each other on the back, their smiles communicating trust and friendship.

  And now she saw something she hadn’t seen before; a little girl in a wheelchair. She was at the edge of the group, almost omitted from the picture entirely, staring intensely into the lens of the camera. As if she was looking right at Claire.

  She heard Allegra, recalling her visions . . . and maybe a little girl or something.

  Claire brought the picture closer to her face, studying it more closely, willing her mind to make the connection she knew was there. But nothing was clear, and her subconscious was locked tight.

  The problem was, she didn’t know what she was looking for.