The tears that I’ve been holding back all day finally fall. Not only have my friends lost their mothers, but two of the last remaining links to my own mother are gone now too. For all their faults, Ms. Marceau and Ms. St. Pierre were still my mother’s sisters, like Peregrine and Chloe are mine. They were the two most constant things in her life, except for perhaps Aunt Bea, and now they’re gone. It’s the end of an era. The sound of the doorbell disrupts my train of thought. Instantly, I’m on edge, but I remind myself that Caleb, Oscar, and Patrick are guarding us from the outside.
My heart hammering, I hurry to the front hall and peer through the peephole. I’m relieved to see Caleb standing there, but I’m surprised when he moves aside and I see the person next to him: Aunt Bea.
“You okay?” Caleb asks as soon as I open the door.
“Yeah. You?”
He nods. “I just—I feel terrible for Peregrine and Chloe. Are they doing okay?”
“They’ll get there.” I pause. “How are Oscar and Patrick holding up?”
Caleb looks away. “It’s hard to know that your father’s days are numbered.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, and I hope he knows that I’m apologizing not just for Patrick and Oscar, but for the way he lost his own father too.
Behind him, Aunt Bea clears her throat and steps forward. “Can I come in?” she asks.
I nod and step aside. I’m surprised when she crosses the threshold and gives me a quick hug. “I’m glad you’re okay,” she says.
I manage a nod. “Thank you.”
I look back at Caleb, who’s standing on the doorstep. “Want me to stay?” he asks.
“You’re welcome to come in if you want,” I say. “But I’m all right.”
“I’ll head back out to help the other guys patrol, then,” he says. “Call me if you need me.”
I nod and watch him as he returns to the perimeter of Peregrine’s property. Then I shut the door and turn back to Aunt Bea.
“How are the girls doing?” she asks.
“Not great,” I tell her.
“It’s terrible to lose someone you love,” she says. And then, all at once, she’s sobbing—big, body-wracking sobs.
“Aunt Bea?” I say, stepping closer and putting a steadying hand on her back. “What’s wrong?” After all, she wasn’t that close to Peregrine’s and Chloe’s mothers. In fact, I’m pretty sure she disliked them.
“It’s just that it’s happening again,” she finally manages to say through her tears. “I lost your mother, and now you’re going to be taken from me too.”
“Aunt Bea, that’s not going to happen.”
When she looks up, her eyes are blazing. “You think you have a choice, Eveny? You think your mother had a choice? She didn’t think she was going to die either. But if I fail you the way I failed her . . .” Her voice trails off. Finally, she adds in a whisper, “How will I live with myself?”
“You didn’t fail her,” I say. “And you’re not failing me. Besides, the situations are different. Main de Lumière didn’t kill my mom.”
“So they claim,” Aunt Bea says. “But we don’t know for sure, do we? There’s so much we don’t know. No one in this damned town is what they appear.”
“I am,” I say. I wait for her to look up at me. “I’m the same person you’ve always known. I’m the person you raised. And I’m the person who’s going to make everything right.”
“Oh, Eveny. Your mother thought she could change things too.” It takes her a moment to look up and meet my eye. “All of this, Eveny, it’s wrong. It’s been wrong from the beginning, from the birth of zandara. Don’t you understand that?”
“What do you want me to do?” I ask.
“Walk away,” she whispers. “Walk away before you die. I’m begging you.”
“I can’t, Aunt Bea.”
“Of course you can! You’re choosing not to.”
My heart hurts as I look at her. “Maybe. But it’s the right choice. Can you say the same thing about walking away from me?”
“I didn’t walk away from you! I just couldn’t be there with your father anymore.”
“You still walked away,” I say firmly. “You had your reasons, and that’s okay. But you abandoned me when I needed you. Do you know how much that hurts?”
“I couldn’t stay,” she says, her eyes filling with tears again.
“But you have to understand that I feel differently. I have to stay. It’s my responsibility. My life.”
She stares at me in silence. “Then I guess you’re a better person than I am,” she says after a long pause. She turns to leave without another word.
I follow her outside, hoping to stop her, but she’s already hurrying down the front walkway. “Aunt Bea!” I call, but she doesn’t turn. She gets into her Volvo without another word and drives away.
I sit down on the top step of the front porch and put my head in my hands for a long time before looking up again. Outside, in the darkness, I can see shapes moving around the outskirts of the property, and I know it’s our three protectors doing their job. But will any of us ever feel safe again? Will any of us be safe? I fear that the events happening now—and the way we’re all reacting to them—will be the things that shape the rest of our lives. Still, I don’t know what to do to change that, to make the future secure for all of us.
I’m not sure how long I spend sitting there, gazing out at the yard and then up at the speckled sky above, but I’m startled some time later by a huge gray hawk sweeping across the front yard, its wingspan so wide that for a moment, it obscures the pinprick stars. It circles twice before landing mere inches away from me. I’m so shocked that I don’t move; I just stare.
It stares right back, and that’s when I notice that it’s carrying something. I blink and lean closer. It’s a scroll of some sort. I reach for it tentatively, and as my fingers close around it, the hawk releases its grip and lifts off again, its expansive wings slicing through the humid air.
I stare after it in confusion, then I look down at the tube of parchment I’m holding. I unroll it slowly, and I can feel my eyes widen as I read the note.
Dear Ms. Eveny Cheval,
Please accept my condolences for the loss of two of your queens. As you may know, Main de Lumière has split into two separate factions: one that wishes you dead, and one that’s interested in working with you to build a better future. I’m a leader of the latter, and of course the former group was responsible for the events that occurred in Carrefour earlier today.
I hope that you, like me, are tired of all this bloodshed and war. If you’re open to discussing how to end this feud, I would ask that you meet me, alone, in the St. Louis Cemetery No. 1 in New Orleans at the stroke of midnight tomorrow, at the tomb of Marie Laveau. I would like to discuss a solution.
I very much hope that you will consider my proposal. But you must tell no one, for it is impossible to know who we can trust. I believe you know that as well as I do.
Sincerely,
Jean-Luc Gerdeaux
I stare in disbelief at the note, a thousand thoughts running through my head. If the note really is from a leader of Main de Lumière, how do I know it’s not a trap? What guarantee is there that he’s not trying to get me alone so he can kill me? If I let that happen, my father and aunt would be devastated, and I’d be cursing Caleb to death, not to mention destroying the future of zandara and andaba.
But couldn’t ignoring the note come with the same perils? What if Jean-Luc Gerdeaux is exactly who he says he is, and this is my one chance to put an end to this century-old feud? What if I can change our future? What if this is exactly what I’m meant to do?
I go home the next morning after Peregrine and Chloe have woken up. There’s a funeral to plan, and as somber as that is, it seems to be giving the two of them a purpose. They’re past the initial shock of their mothers’ deaths, and now they just seem morose and subdued. There’s little more I can do than provide moral support, so I promise I’ll be back at
dinnertime.
“Go home and get some sleep,” Peregrine says with a small smile. “I know you were up all night.”
“How do you know that?” I say, startled.
“Because it’s what I would have done if the roles were reversed,” she says. “And maybe we’re not so different after all.”
My father is out when I get home, but he’s left a note saying that he’s meeting with the police chief and that he has his cell phone if I need him. Boniface comes in to give me a hug and make sure I’m all right, but he must sense that I’m exhausted and not in the mood for company, because he leaves right away.
I lie down on the living room sofa and try not to be conscious of the fact that every five minutes or so, I see Caleb pace through the garden as he does his rounds on my property. He must be bone tired, and I consider inviting him in, but I’m too exhausted myself to deal with him right now. Besides, I have the feeling he’ll say no.
My mind is spinning as I try to decide what to do about the invitation from Main de Lumière, but fatigue finally gets the best of me, and I doze off sometime before noon. I wake up to the sound of the ringing doorbell, and I scramble off the couch and check my watch. Just past one in the afternoon. I only slept for slightly more than an hour, and I feel woozy and disoriented. Get it together, Eveny, I tell myself as I make my way toward the front door.
Out the peephole, I see Caleb, and beside him, an annoyed-looked Bram. My stomach twists, and I pull open the door.
“Eveny,” they both say at the same time before pausing to glare at each other.
“I came over to see how you’re doing.” Bram is the first one to speak again. “But Caleb stopped me in the yard like I was some kind of intruder.”
“Just doing my job,” Caleb says.
“Yes, well, obviously I’m harmless,” Bram says.
Caleb shrugs and looks away. “Are you?”
“Can I come in?” Bram asks, ignoring him.
“Yeah, of course,” I say, moving quickly aside.
“You okay?” Caleb says, his eyes following Bram as he enters the house.
“I’m fine,” I say. “Thanks, Caleb.”
We stare at each other for a moment before I close the door.
“He’s very protective,” Bram says when I finally turn around.
“That’s kind of his job.”
“Yeah, well, I think we both know that’s not all it is,” Bram says. He puts a hand on my shoulder and changes the subject. “So how are you? I wanted to come check on you when you were over with Chloe and Peregrine, but your dad thought I should give you some time. You doing okay?”
“As well as can be expected, I guess. Thanks for asking.”
“Of course. How are the girls holding up?”
“I don’t think they’ve fully processed everything. Witnessing something like that . . . well, it’s horrible.” I pause and think of the memory I have of my own mother’s death. “You never get over it.”
“I’m sorry.” He puts a hand on my cheek, and when his skin makes contact with mine, I suddenly feel like every nerve ending in my body is on high alert. As he trails his thumb down toward the corner of my lips, I feel a shiver of pleasure ripple through me, and I take a step back, my heart racing. Surely in the midst of everything—the mothers’ murder and the danger swirling around us—I can’t be having a physical reaction to Bram’s touch.
But he just smiles. “Don’t fight the way you’re feeling, Eveny,” he says.
He steps closer and pauses, perhaps waiting to see if I’ll move away again. But I’m frozen in place, torn between logic—which says I have more important things to worry about—and emotion—which is telling me to stay right here. Emotion wins out, so I don’t move when he leans forward. As soon as his lips touch mine, it feels like an electrical spark has been ignited within me, throwing everything off balance. The world begins to spin.
He reaches up to gently cup my face with his hands, and I hear myself sigh, my knees suddenly weak. Kissing Caleb always made my heart race and my body temperature rise, but it never felt like this.
When Bram finally pulls away and takes a step back, I’m hit with a wave of dizziness.
“Why did you do that?” I whisper.
He smiles. “Because you need someone to lean on. And I’m here, Eveny. I’m here to protect you and stand with you and do anything else you need.”
“But . . . ,” I say, letting my voice trail off. My brain still feels fuzzy. “But what about Caleb? I can’t do this. Not while he’s out there risking his life for me.”
“Don’t you understand that I would lay down my life for you too?” Bram says.
“But . . . why? I don’t understand.”
He holds my gaze. “I know you feel it too.” There’s a strange charge in the air, but I can’t explain it. Before I met Bram, I was so sure that I could never feel this way for anyone but Caleb. And now, in a matter of days, it’s like my heart has been invaded. I nod slowly.
He reaches out and touches my face again, looking deep into my eyes. “You’ll choose me in the end.”
“You don’t know that.”
“But I do, Eveny. I’ve always known. You’re my intended.”
I blink at him a few times before pushing his hand away from my face and taking a few steps back. “Wait, I’m your what?”
He looks startled by my reaction. “My intended. Our sosyete paired us together when we were just babies.”
Suddenly, my stomach is churning. When I asked my father whether someone had been chosen for me in the bizarre andaba tradition, he had dodged the question, and I’d assumed the answer was no. Now I realize I was wrong. “What exactly do you mean?” I say.
He looks surprised. “You were the next girl born after me to a royal family, and even though you have powers too, the sosyete decided to pair us when you were about six months old.” He laughs uneasily. “I think we’re supposed to be some big power couple or something.”
“No,” I whisper. The realization that someone has magically tinkered with something so personal makes me feel violated. An instant later, I find myself wondering if my parents knew this charm had been cast. How could they have been okay with such a thing?
“How exactly does this pairing thing work?” I finally ask.
“From the time we turn seventeen, it makes us fall more and more deeply in love with each other every day,” Bram says. I gasp, and he reaches for me, but I dodge him. He hesitates and adds, “Please don’t worry. The sosyete is very careful. There’s never been a bad match.”
“So you’re saying I have no choice about falling in love with you? Marrying you?” I say, incredulous. He takes a step forward, but I back away. I don’t want him touching me now. I don’t want to feel my heart thudding and my skin sizzling. I don’t want to feel myself wanting his lips on mine. It’s not real.
“Trust me,” Bram says, “it’s how the charm works. You’ll feel it more as you get older.”
“No,” I say. “I don’t want to.”
He looks like I’ve slapped him across the face. “Eveny, I promise you’ll feel differently when—”
I cut him off. “I don’t want to feel differently, Bram. I want to fall in love—whether it’s with you or with someone else—because my heart tells me to. I want to fall in love because a guy is good and kind and smart and funny. I want to fall in love with someone who gets me and someone who wants all of me, the good and the bad, the natural and the supernatural, the complicated and the simple. I don’t want to fall in love with someone who only loves me because of magic.”
“Eveny, how can you think that?” he says. “I love all of those things about you. And I know I’ll love you more and more as I get to know you better.”
“Because you’ve been forced to! By something you didn’t ask for and I didn’t ask for. Don’t you see? This isn’t real!”
“It is real,” he says. “If you’ll let me explain—”
I cut him off again. “I’m sor
ry. You seem really nice, Bram. But knowing that I’m supposed to love you kind of ruins it.”
Bram takes a step back and smiles at me sadly. “I thought that too, Eveny. But just wait until you get a little older. Magic takes over. You’ll feel the link between us too. You’ll feel what I feel. And when you do,” he adds, “I’ll be here. Waiting.”
He leaves without another word, and I stare after him, confused and shaken, long after the front door has closed behind him. It’s only when he’s gone that I realize I already miss him.
21
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I say as soon as my father walks in the door a half hour later. I’ve spent the time since Bram left sitting in the kitchen, trying to figure out how I’m supposed to stop feeling something I’ve been magically forced to feel.
He looks startled. “Tell you what?”
“About Bram!”
“What about him?”
“How I’m apparently supposed to marry him? Didn’t you think I deserved to know that?”
“Oh.” My father looks guilty. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” All of my frustration is pouring out now, sharpening my words. “You’re sorry that you didn’t respect me enough to tell me something so important? Or you’re sorry that when I specifically asked you about it, you basically lied to my face?”
“I didn’t lie to you,” he says. “I just didn’t answer completely. Besides, it didn’t seem as important as some of the other things we’re dealing with now.”
“It didn’t seem important? How can the outcome of my life not be important to you? How can the feelings I have not be important to you?”
“I don’t mean it like that,” he says quickly. “I just mean that we’re under attack. Your life is in danger. I have to focus on saving you.”
“Why? So that I can marry a boy you chose for me a lifetime ago? So that I can go on to follow some path you laid out for me when I was just a baby? So that I have absolutely no control over my own destiny?”
“Eveny, you’re overreacting,” my father says. “I’m not pushing you toward Bram, nor am I trying to take away your control. I do believe you have the right to choose, just like your mom and I did.”
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