The Casquette Girls

by Arden, Alys

  “What?” he asked, pulling me closer. “Who? What the hell happened, Adele? You’re covered in blood.”

  My wild eyes locked with his, which were filled with worry. “He let go of my hands. He threw me into the bricks.”

  Isaac went to hold my hand, hesitating briefly to pry something out of my palm. I felt instant relief not having the sharp points pressed into my skin anymore. When his hand returned, he laced his fingers with mine. His touch brought immediate comfort.

  “Actually,” he said, “we kind of pla—”

  My head felt like it was still floating. I didn’t hear anything he said. My toes elevated my trembling legs as I tried to throw my bloodstained arms around his neck. Only my left arm moved – my right hung limp, its wing drooping on the floor. But with the aid of his arm slinking around my waist, it was enough to hoist my face close to his.

  “Adele, you’re blee—”

  My mouth brushed against his.

  Just inches away from mine, his heart pounded, but he didn’t stop talking – he asked me questions my ears didn’t hear, forcing my kisses into birdlike pecks.

  “You’re hurt, Adele,” he said sternly, imploring me to stop.

  Ignoring his concerns became futile, so I refrained from kissing him and leaned my forehead into his. My recession brought his nose nuzzling against mine. He didn’t really want me to stop.

  “What happened in there?” he asked me again.

  It all rushed back.

  “We won,” was all I whispered as my eyes fell shut.

  My mother, Emilio, Nicco. Each flashback made me want to melt into him more.

  His lips swept the thin skin of my eyelids, sending a wave of shivers through my shoulder blades. I didn’t have to open my eyes to know he was smiling. He kissed my cheekbone and jawline and then pushed my hair aside to continue down my neck.

  “What the hell?” he said, suddenly alarmed. “Adele, we need to get you to the hospital.”

  “No!” I yelled, beginning to panic. “It’s too overcrowded. They would just turn us away.” The truth was, I was scared to leave this moment. I quickly pressed my lips to his cheek, letting them linger. His body responded to my touch, and I felt him let the thought go.

  I knew that every part of him wanted me. Wanted to protect me.

  And I wanted to drown in that feeling.

  The heightened sensory experience caused my aching body to squirm into his, and with that, his lips crashed into mine, finally giving in to me.

  Giving in to the elixir.

  My hand moved to his face; I had never wanted something so badly in my life. His arms pressed tighter around me until I could barely tell where I ended and he began. Dizziness overwhelmed me again.

  I could feel his heart race faster. This time it was me who broke our embrace out of concern. He didn’t release me so easily, forcing me to arch backwards so I could see his face. His lips tried to follow me, but I held his jaw at bay. “You’re shaking,” I whispered.

  His eyes searched for something to focus on before dropping to the ground.

  “I…,” he fumbled.

  He pushed his face back to mine and roughly pecked my lips.

  And then he then took a deep breath and looked me in the eyes. “Before… I was so scared that I was going to drop you.” The shaking caused a slight vibration in his voice.

  “But you didn’t.” His open vulnerability sent me into another manic tizzy. The scratchy stubble of his otherwise baby face scraped across my cheeks, and my lips parted his. My pulse raced.

  Too fast.

  The electric feeling expelled from my body as a breeze rushed around us, but this time it wasn’t from the wind-powered witch in my arms. It was simply Mother Nature.

  Although, there’s nothing simple about Mother Nature.

  Her knowledge. Her beauty. Her power.

  Cold.

  My arm wrapped around Isaac until it wasn’t possible to hold him any tighter.

  And that was it.

  Everything I had left inside me.

  I was drained.

  Blackness.

  Chapter 44 Mourning of the Casquette Girls

  Orbs of color flashed beneath my eyelids. Blindness only exacerbated the pain searing every inch of my body. My muscles cramped and convulsed. Someone was hovering above me. Aggressively cursing. Panicking.

  Isaac.

  I tried to raise my hand to comfort him, to no avail.

  * * *

  “Jesus, what’s wrong with her arm, Isaac?” asked a female voice. Maybe Dee’s? “Keep trying to wake her up.”

  “Adele, wake up.” He frantically shook my dead weight.

  I winced.

  “Isaac, watch her shoulder!” Definitely Désirée.

  “Sorry. Adele, it’s time to wake up. Please,” he added, as if it might have been his lack of manners keeping me in the semiconscious state.

  “What happened?” Désirée demanded with a hint of accusation. Her pitch was a little higher than usual.

  If Désirée’s worried, should I be worried?

  “I don’t know… we were just… and she… she just blacked out.” His voice warbled.

  Through the slits of my lashes, I saw Désirée leaning over me, dragging her hands down my torso, lips moving quickly. My body burned as if I’d been struck by lightning.

  I blinked slowly. Everything was fuzzy, but I could tell we were still on the roof of the Presbytère. The stars were gone. A dense fog now bridged the gap between the clouds and the small cupola. Chills swept over me.

  Isaac yelled something to Désirée.

  I tried to move my mouth, but nothing came out.

  “Adele, can you hear me? Please, say something.”

  I had a strong desire to answer him, but couldn’t seem to remember how to do that. How to make words. I blinked again, willing my eyes to stay open this time, but they drooped shut.

  “She’s alive.”

  “Of course she’s alive, birdbrain, she’s breathing!” Totally unsatisfied with Isaac’s efforts, her head rushed above mine. “Adele, open your eyes, NOW. Tell me who I am.”

  My eyes popped open as if attached to marionette strings. “You’re Voodoo Queen Dee.”

  The puppet master leaned back and breathed a sigh of relief. “Jesus, Adele.”

  I tried to sit up on my own, but fell back. Isaac caught me. “What happened?” My throat felt like it had been clawed raw both inside and out.

  “You passed out,” Isaac said from above me. His upside-down head hovered so close to mine, his eyes looked giant, like a prehistoric bug’s. “I was about to take you to the hospital, but Désirée rolled up with her juju. For the record, I still think we should go to the hospital.”

  “There’s only one open hospital,” Désirée told him. “Unless you want to put a bullet in her, she’ll never be seen. We’re better off waking up Gran if we need help.”

  “Thaaaaanks, Dee. No hospital. My dad’ll freak.” I smiled, not recognizing my own voice. She was rubbing something cool and minty into my skin. “Wait, why might we need Gran?”

  “We don’t, Adele. I can handle it.”

  “Are you sure you know what you are doing?” Isaac asked.

  “All Voodoo is based on the art of healing.”

  “I’m a little inclined towards science at the moment. No offense.”

  “Well then, it’s a good thing Adele has me.”

  The minty rub was soothing on my feverish skin. “I’mmmm gonna go back to sleep, guys.”

  “No!” Désirée yelled. “Isaac, switch places with me.”

  Suddenly she was gone from my sight. My eyes drooped closed.

  * * *

  “Hey! No sleeping, Tinkerbell!”

  My eyes flew open again. Isaac was straddling me on all fours. His outline was blurry, but I could sense his frazzled nerves. I focused on him until I could finally make out his expression – intense concern. Despite the pain, my stomach did a small somersault.

&nb
sp; “I’m not Tinkerbell.”

  “I know. I know. La Fée Verte. ”

  “Ha, ha. Your accent is terrrrrrrible.”

  Désirée snickered in the background. Isaac leaned over my head to whisper to her. His black leather vest hung open, and his bare chest hovered over my face.

  “Where’s your shirt?” I slurred.

  My words brought his face back, and he shot me a short, nervous smile. He didn’t answer, but his eyes fell to my neck, and I realized there was something tight and damp wrapped around it.

  “Isaac, you have to hold her down!”

  “I am.”

  “No, don’t be a wuss. Sit on top of her. If she tries to fry me, I’m using you as a human shield.”

  She pushed the hair from my shoulder. I cried out in pain as his knee moved into my open palm, pressing it against the stone floor.

  “Do it, Désirée!” he yelled.

  “Do what?” my loopy voice asked. I stared at his chest. “You’re hot…”

  He let his hair fall in front of his face to hide his blushing cheeks.

  Désirée snickered. “Don’t flatter yourself, Isaac, it’s just the elixir talking.”

  He leaned in, crushing my left shoulder and right hip— a bolt of pain surged through me. My body tried to lurch into a sitting position as Désirée rammed my arm back into socket, but Isaac kept me pinned down.

  The scream that came out of my mouth sounded more like the pathetic whimper of a dying animal. And then my eyelids fluttered in shock as my brain registered that my arm was now reattached and the pain was actually a good thing. He shifted his weight off me, and everyone was silent for a minute.

  I curled the fingers on my right hand, and Désirée let out a loud sigh.

  “Breathe,” Isaac whispered, brushing my hair off of my face.

  I nodded, inhaled deeply, and the convulsions slowed.

  “Merci beaucoup, Dee.” I sucked in a few more breaths, utterly exhausted. “Now can I take a nap?”

  “Not if you want to avoid the hospital,” she snapped.

  “Ça va! Non hôpital!”

  “We still need to torch the convent, Désirée,” Isaac said. “If she’s too weak to light the fire from here, I can go down and do it myself.”

  “No fire!” I rasped. Suddenly, consciousness was not an issue.

  He squeezed my hand. “Don’t worry… we can handle it. We’re almost mission complete.”

  “We are not burning the attic!” I repeated, jerking my hand away.

  They stared back at me with wide eyes. The surprise on Isaac’s face slowly morphed as he came to his own conclusion about why I didn’t want to burn the attic.

  He was only half right.

  I didn’t want to kill Nicco, even if he had tried to kill me, but, more importantly, my mother was trapped in that attic, thanks to me. I had already nearly burned her to death by accident; I couldn’t do it on purpose – even if she was a vampire. Even if she had killed those two students twelve years ago.

  “We are not burning the attic,” I yelled and looked at Isaac, expecting him to cave and take my side.

  He didn’t.

  There was no way I could tell him about my mother; he hated vampires. There was no way I could tellanyone.

  “If she says we aren’t roasting the vamps, then we aren’t roasting the vamps. I mean, arson is a little seventeenth-century witch-hunty, anyways.”

  Thank you, Dee.

  “This is not the same as dark-ages witch hunts. Those witches were innocent. These are cold-blooded killers. Vampires!”

  I gave Isaac a look, letting him know there would be no forgiveness if he took matters into his own hands.

  “Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “But we have to do something. It’s not safe to leave them like this.”

  “He’s right,” I said. “They’ll die, not being able to feed—”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “We can cast the same Slumbering Spell that Cosette Monvoisin did back in the day,” Désirée suggested.

  “Do you think we’re strong enough?” I asked.

  “We’re only three, and they’re now six,” said Isaac. It took all of his strength not to gloat. “That’s two additions to the original bloodsucking attic crew.”

  Seven,I thought.

  “There’s only one way to find out,” Désirée grabbed our hands forming a circle.

  My fingers slid around Isaac’s, and I rubbed his thumb, begging him not to be mad at me. He attempted to crack a smile, but barely glanced at me for a second.

  Désirée began to chant the French words of the long-since-dead triplet, and soon Isaac and I joined her, repeating the ethereal phrases over and over again until they felt as natural as saying our own names.

  The pain in my body began to subside as the wind swirled around us in a swell of paranormal excitement. I don’t know if it was the elixir, or the delirium, or the magic, but I swear a harmony of girlish voices began to sing a lullaby from the sky. I smiled, knowing that either way, les filles aux la cassettes were with us in spirit.

  The air had stilled, and everything felt totally peaceful.

  “How do we know if it worked?” I asked.

  “We don’t. Unless you want to open the attic door and—”

  “Not happening,” Isaac said, just in case she wasn’t joking.

  She smiled deviantly, causing his chest to puff, and then she started laughing.

  I unwrapped Isaac’s bloodstained shirt from my neck, ripped a strip of fabric from my wings, and tied it into a bow around my neck. “I have an idea,” I said, poofing my hair to further conceal the herb-packed slashes. “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  “So this is where everyone ran off to,” Isaac said as we turned the corner into the Faubourg Marigny. Jackson Square had become desolate, but Frenchmen Street was filled with zombies, screaming children, and revelers of all levels of intoxication, drinking and laughing under the sea of ghosts. Musical scales tooted from horns as musicians warmed up the Second Line.

  Two old geezers chased each other down the street with sparklers, squealing with glee. “Looks like the wormwood is still active,” Désirée murmured. We all let out a short laugh.

  “Dead Green Faery?” a placid voice said. “Awesome costume.” I turned to see Theis approaching, with Ren on his heels.

  “Merci beac—”

  “Oh, thank God, bébé!” Ren cried, bending over me, but Isaac intervened.

  “No hugs.”

  I chuckled.

  Ren understood and made a crack about Isaac’s hunky chest, who in turn quickly fastened the two buttons on his vest, while Theis wolf-whistled.

  I spotted the twins passing out small white candles in red Solo cups.

  “I’ll be right back,” I said and walked over to them.

  “Adele!” Sébastien yelped, his lit candle fumbling to the street. “You disappeared. You scared me half to death!”

  I picked up his candle and sniffed a tear away. “Sorry about that.”

  “Why are you covered in blood?” Jeanne asked, genuinely concerned.

  “Oh… this stupid girl from school thought it would be funny to have a Carrie moment and dumped a bucket of corn syrup on me.” Did I really just lie to a chemist about blood? I am an idiot. She looked at me with doubt and opened her mouth to protest, but then let it slide. My smile beamed in gratitude. Despite being caked in dried blood, I wrapped my good arm around her. “Je t'aime,” I whispered.

  “Moi aussie.”

  “Can I get three candles, s’il te plaît?” I asked Sébastien, wiping my eyes.

  “Oui, mon chou.”

  “Merci beaucoup.”

  He smiled. “De rein.”

  I walked back to Désirée and Isaac, who were both still mesmerized by the ghoulish tribute, and handed them each a candle-poked cup. We all watched a flame magically grow from my candle, and then I kissed it to each of their wicks, lighting theirs the old-fashioned
way.

  The street was totally dark, other than the specks of a thousand candle flames. A solo accordion started squeezing out a song, and then a woman in the middle of the block slowly began to belt the first phrase of “Cryin’ in the Street.” The horns followed, and the crowd started moving together back towards the Quarter.

  Listening to the beautiful alto voice, tears rolled down my face. I thought of Brooke, Klara, and Alphonse Jones. I closed my eyes and wished for them to come home soon.

  At least my mother is home, I thought, surprising myself. In a weird twisted way, I really was glad she came back. I finally knew the truth.

  I looked at Désirée and found her crying too. Everyone was.

  We all linked hands and walked down the street. Our voices singing together gave me the confidence that my city was going to get better. Our city.

  * * *

  When we crossed Esplanade Avenue, both the warble and the close proximity of the convent made my pulse climb. Désirée signaled to me—I placed Jeanne’s hand into her brother’s— and our trio peeled off as the crowd continued its procession to St. Louis Cemetery No. 1.

  For the second time that night, I entered the iron gate and walked through the overgrown hedges, this time flanked by two witches. Nestled into a weed-covered hedge was a large metal bucket filled to the brim with the long carpenter nails that had rained down that strange morning everything went haywire. The original nails the Ursuline sisters had sealed the shutters with, blessed by the Holy Pope himself.

  The convent’s front door was wide open, but all that mattered was that the attic was secured. The other two breathed a sigh of relief to see the windows still sealed, but I swear that shutter had a slight vibration. As I stared at it, my heartbeat echoed in my chest until it felt like my whole body was reverberating to the beat.

  I could still feel the elixir coursing through my veins.

  I closed my eyes, and all I saw was Nicco and his not-so-innocent smile. I am such an idiot. My heart beat faster as I remembered that morning I first stepped foot through the convent gate. Why? Why? Why? Despite all the fires, all the hurricanes, all the crimes, hauntings and magic in this city, somehow the shutter had stayed shut tight over the centuries, until right before I got to it. What was so special about this Storm? Is there such a thing as a coincidence? I felt the metal stake rattling high above us.