The Dolls

by Kiki Sullivan

  “What did you say?” Drew asks, but I just shake my head.

  As we wait for the police to arrive, I see a flash of something in the cemetery, and for a second, I’m sure it’s Caleb, out for his nightly run. But the figure doesn’t stop, and a moment later, I have the strange feeling that we’re being watched.

  24

  The next day, the buzz around school is all about my accident with Drew. Apparently, his truck is still stuck in the cemetery, and lots of people saw the wreckage on their way to school today. Everyone keeps telling me they can’t believe I walked away unscathed.

  As for the Dolls, they’re all quiet and on edge, which I suspect is because tonight’s ceremony to disempower the killer inside our gates is a big deal. Even lunch in the Hickories is subdued and mostly silent. It’s only the chatter of Max, Drew, and Liv, all of whom have joined us on the cashmere blanket again, that breaks up the monotony. Caleb glares openly at Drew and entirely ignores me all through lunch.

  On the way out of American history, Caleb catches up with me and puts a hand on my arm. “I’m really glad you’re okay,” he says, and the depth of concern in his eyes holds me captive until he turns and hurries away.

  After school, I tell Aunt Bea that I’m working on a school project with Liv and spending the night at her place. I’m expecting her to be suspicious, but she’s too shaken up by the accident to guess that I’m lying.

  “Eveny, what if someone was trying to kill you?” she asks. “What if someone saw you arrive with Drew and cut the steering fluid line or damaged the brakes of his truck or something?”

  “Relax,” I tell her firmly. “It’s just an old pickup truck. Nothing sinister.”

  I’m not sure I believe my own words, but I don’t need Aunt Bea freaking out on top of everything else. She’ll never allow me to leave the house tonight if she thinks I’m in danger. “Besides,” I add, “I’m fine. Drew’s fine.”

  “Because of a stroke of good luck,” she says.

  “No, because of zandara,” I reply. “I used my Stone of Carrefour.”

  She blinks at me, her expression darkening. “Well, it sure didn’t take you any time to become an expert, did it?” she asks. Without another word, she strides out the front door, slamming it behind her. A moment later, I hear her car’s engine rumble to life.

  I’m still thinking about Aunt Bea’s reaction when I head down our driveway just after eleven. I arrive at Peregrine’s mansion twenty minutes later, wearing a flowing, gauzy emerald dress of my mother’s that I found buried in the back of my closet. I feel beautiful in it, and I hope it will make Caleb see me that way too.

  But when the door to the Marceau mansion opens, my heart sinks. I’m dowdy in comparison to Peregrine and Chloe. As usual, they both look like supermodels in five-inch heels, perfect makeup, and slinky designer dresses. Peregrine’s is a black leather sheath with a diamond-encrusted snake-shaped zipper, and Chloe’s is a gold lamé minidress that catches the light and makes her skin look even tanner.

  “What look, exactly, are you trying to achieve?” Peregrine asks. “Thrift store hippie?”

  “It was my mom’s,” I say defensively.

  “I think you look pretty,” says a low voice from behind Peregrine and Chloe. I look up to see Caleb gazing at me. In a crisp charcoal suit, he’s too good to be real. Locking eyes with him hits me so hard that I can’t breathe until he turns and walks away.

  Peregrine rolls her eyes and air-kisses me dramatically. “Well, come on in,” she says, nearly shoving me inside. “We don’t have all night. Are you feeling better after your accident?”

  “Still a little freaked out,” I say. I follow Chloe and Peregrine into the house. The rest of the Dolls are mingling around, all of them as dressed up as Peregrine and Chloe. Arelia and Margaux are in matching hot pink minidresses with sky-high heels, and Pascal is standing behind them, leering at their legs. He’s in a black suit with a silvery shirt and a black tie. A few feet away, Justin lounges on an armchair, looking uncomfortable in a navy suit and a yellow tie, which he keeps tugging at.

  I clear my throat as Peregrine announces, “Eveny’s here! Someone get her a drink!”

  Margaux purses her lips but makes a move toward the bar.

  “Gin and tonic?” she asks in a bored voice. “Or champagne?”

  “Neither, actually,” I say quickly. I want to stay as sober as possible.

  Peregrine makes a face and rolls her eyes. “Fine,” she says. “Someone go get Eveny some sweet tea instead.”

  Margaux hustles off toward the kitchen as quickly as her stilettoed feet can take her. Not to be outdone, Arelia scrambles after her.

  A moment later, Margaux reappears at Peregrine’s elbow and thrusts a tall glass of iced tea at me. “Happy?” she grunts.

  “Thanks,” I say, put off by her weirdness as usual. I take a few long sips, then set my glass down on a coaster. The grandfather clock chimes midnight, and the energy in the room shifts.

  “It’s time,” Peregrine says solemnly.

  I’m the only person who seems not to know what this means, but I follow the others toward a pair of closed double doors, which remind me a lot of the parlor in my own house. Peregrine and Chloe pull open the doors, and I follow the others into a large, dark room lit with candles that send flickering shadows dancing across the walls and ceiling.

  The group moves silently into a circle in the center of the room. I’m surprised when it’s Caleb who winds up on my left side and even more startled when his large, warm hand folds around mine. I’m elated for a second until I look up and realize that everyone in the circle is joining hands. In the center of the circle sit a bottle of bourbon and the coiled form of Audowido. I swallow back my discomfort, and I keep a close eye on him as his tongue darts lazily in and out of his mouth.

  “What’s happening?” I whisper to Caleb.

  Caleb looks at me with concern. “The girls didn’t explain this ceremony to you?”

  I shake my head.

  “It’s a possession ceremony called a Renmen Koulèv.” Caleb’s voice is flat and grim. “They probably thought it would freak you out.”

  “Why? I’ve already been possessed.”

  “It’s—” He hesitates, as if searching for the right words. When he looks back at me, his expression is pained. “This ceremony is weird to watch. We use a snake—Audowido in this case—to call the spirits in from the nether. Then Peregrine and Pascal will allow themselves to be possessed by two spirits who already do a lot of favors for us.”

  “And it’s weird to watch because . . . ?” I ask.

  Caleb clears his throat. “Because it’s kind of . . . sexual. The spirits don’t get to do things like smoke and drink and have sex anymore. So the sosyete banks favors by letting the spirits take over their bodies for a while.”

  “Wait, Peregrine and Pascal are going to have sex?”

  Caleb shakes his head. “Not quite. But things get pretty . . . hot.” Even in the dim lighting, I can tell he looks embarrassed. “It’s the best way to gather power in the short term. If everything goes right and the spirits get what they want, they’ll help us, and the Main de Lumière operative who killed the fraternity guy will be powerless again. He’ll become immediately paralyzed the second he tries to use a weapon against any of us. We’ll all be safe. This is something we have to do.”

  He squeezes my hand tighter just as Peregrine steps into the center of the circle beside Audowido. Chloe grabs my right hand and Justin’s left to complete the ring.

  Pascal breaks away from the group to strike a large triangle that hangs nearby. The sound reverberates throughout the room, and as Pascal rejoins the circle, Peregrine closes her eyes and looks skyward.

  “Come to us now, Eloi Oke, and open the gate,” Peregrine chants. “Come to us now, Eloi Oke, and open the gate. Come to us now, Eloi Oke, and open the gate.”

  She takes a small bundle of herbs, strikes a match, and lights them on fire. She drops them on the marble flo
or, and as soon as they’re done smoldering, she says, “Ashes to ashes.” She begins to dance, slowly at first, then more rapidly in the silence. I watch as Audowido uncurls and inches toward Peregrine. He begins to coil himself around her left leg just as she starts to chant again, but she doesn’t seem to notice; she appears to be in a trance as she sways, moves her feet, and claps, while singing over and over in a high, sweet voice, “Move lespri, pran kò mwen. Move lespri pran tèt mwen.”

  Caleb leans in to whisper to me, “She’s asking the spirits to take her body and her mind. But in order for this to work, we all have to focus on the ceremony. I promise; I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  His voice is deep and soothing, and I believe him entirely. I close my eyes and try to focus on Peregrine’s words and on the melody. Then she abruptly stops chanting, and I open my eyes to see what’s going on.

  Peregrine is standing in the middle of the circle, completely still, with Audowido wrapped up her left leg and down her left arm. The snake looks like he’s become a part of her. I can see him breathing, his skin expanding and contracting.

  “Just follow along,” Caleb whispers as Peregrine returns to chanting. This time, on her second verse, the whole room begins to hum along with her. Peregrine starts to dance again, and when she does, everyone else in the circle begins swaying to the music too. I do my best to join in as the movements get more and more frenzied. Audowido is slowly unwinding himself from Peregrine now, and he, too, appears to be moving in time to the beat.

  Suddenly, Peregrine stops singing and cries out. Everyone else’s eyes are closed, but I keep mine open a sliver to watch what’s happening. The air in the room has changed, and my Stone of Carrefour is suddenly so hot it’s burning me. My heart thuds as I watch Pascal step silently into the circle. But he doesn’t look like himself anymore; his body moves fluidly, like a rubber doll’s.

  He bends to pick up a pale purple handkerchief from the ground, where Audowido is slowly slithering in a wide circle. Pascal takes one end of the handkerchief and puts it into his mouth. Peregrine steps closer, until she and Pascal are just inches apart. She slowly takes the other end of the handkerchief and puts it in her mouth too.

  The second she does so, the others in the circle resume their dance. Chloe starts chanting the now-familiar Move lespri, pran kò mwen. Move lespri pran tèt mwen. As she begins singing faster and faster, Peregrine and Pascal move closer and closer to each other until their bodies are touching. Caleb’s hand is warm and reassuring in mine, but as Peregrine and Pascal’s dance grows more sensual, I feel uncomfortable. I continue moving my hips from side to side, but as I watch, Pascal begins to touch Peregrine. She responds by pulling him closer and grinding against him. It looks like they’re about to start ripping each other’s clothes off.

  Suddenly, goose bumps prickle up and down my arms, and I can feel my hair standing on end. There’s something different in the room now, a shift in the equilibrium, and once again everyone instantly stops chanting and dancing. We’re plunged into silence, and for a moment, it’s as if the room is entirely frozen.

  Then, Pascal suddenly breaks away from Peregrine and grabs the bottle of bourbon from the floor beside Audowido. He rips off the cap, tilts his head back, and drinks the entire bottle without taking a breath.

  My jaw drops. “Did he just drink a whole bottle of alcohol?” I whisper to Caleb. But Caleb doesn’t respond; his eyes are closed, and he looks just as out of it as the rest of the group. I begin to pull away—I want to get out of here—but Caleb’s grip on me is like a vise. I’m feeling woozier by the moment, and my legs are unsteady beneath me. It’s similar to the exhaustion that swept over me at Cristof’s after Glory possessed me, but far worse.

  My heart thuds even faster as Pascal begins mumbling what sounds like nonsense. Peregrine remains in a trance as Pascal approaches and begins peeling her clothes off, right there in the middle of the circle. First, he removes the shawl she has wrapped lightly around her shoulders, then he roughly pulls her dress over her head, so that she’s standing there in only a shell-pink bra, matching panties, and her five-inch heels.

  Pascal and Peregrine begin to kiss now, sloppily and aggressively. Pascal’s hands tangle through Peregrine’s ebony curls and I feel weaker and weaker as their movement grows more frantic. It’s almost like my own energy is being sucked out of me and funneled into the center of the circle. I look at Caleb again, and when I see that his eyes are open now, I feel a surge of momentary hope. But my heart sinks when I realize he, too, is possessed by whatever spirit is filling this room. I look around and see that everyone else appears as blank and wide-eyed as he does. I seem to be the only one who hasn’t succumbed to the magic.

  I don’t have time to think about it, though, because in that instant, Pascal lets go of Peregrine and swings in my direction. I’m frozen in place as his eyes rake me over. Then he grins, a big, sloppy grin that doesn’t look a thing like the carefully controlled Pascal. It’s not him anymore, I realize. It’s the spirit who’s in him.

  In his eyes, I can read evil and foreboding. His grin melts into a sneer. “Eveny Cheval,” he slurs in a deep Louisiana accent that doesn’t sound at all like Pascal’s aristocratic drawl. Then he begins to laugh. Suddenly, the sneer vanishes from his face, and I feel a chill run through me.

  “They’re coming for you,” he says in a flat voice, staring directly into my eyes. “Bang bang, you’re dead.”

  25

  Terrified, I use the last of my strength to rip my hand out of Caleb’s grip. My arms and legs feel like they’re made of sand, but I manage to stumble away from the circle and toward the door. I land in a heap in the living room while behind me, Pascal is still cackling maniacally. I can hear him saying again and again in a singsong voice, “Bang bang, Eveny’s dead! Bang bang, Eveny’s dead!”

  The moment I’m outside of the ceremonial room, my body feels more normal. My limbs aren’t as heavy, and I can move again. I lurch toward the front door of Peregrine’s mansion, pull it open, and land facedown on her front porch. The air outside is cool and crisp, and I drink it in hungrily as I try to gather the strength to run.

  I struggle to my feet and head for the cemetery. It creeps me out to think about cutting across it in the dark of night, but it’s the quickest way home. I’m still woozy and unsteady, but Peregrine’s house doesn’t have a wall separating it from the cemetery like mine does, so I only have to climb over a waist-high picket fence. I land on my feet and plunge into the darkness between a cluster of tombs. Far away, I can see my back porch light glowing like a beacon.

  As I move down Peregrine’s hill, deeper into the cemetery, the tree cover grows heavier overhead, and I begin to lose the moonlight. The farther I go, the heavier my feet feel. My brain is foggy, and I stumble over exposed roots that I can’t see in the darkness. I wince in pain as I come down hard on my left knee, slicing it open. I smell blood in the air as I struggle to my feet, and I can no longer see the light from my house. The graveyard is swallowing me whole.

  I pause to catch my breath, and when I do, I hear footsteps somewhere behind me, moving fast. I stifle a scream. I can’t get Pascal’s words out of my head: Bang bang, Eveny’s dead.

  But maybe it’s Caleb. My heart soars for a second in relief. I begin to turn toward the sound, but my heel catches on another root, and my knees buckle beneath me, betraying me. I go down hard. The last thing I’m aware of is the sharp pain of hitting the back of my head on a grainy tombstone as the world goes black.

  When I wake up, my head is pounding, and I’m not sure how much time has passed. I blink into the darkness, and the first thing I realize is that I’m still in the cemetery, lying in a patch of grass.

  “Hello, Eveny,” says a smooth voice just to my right, and I jump, startled. My neck aches and my head throbs anew as I turn. I scream and struggle to sit up when I realize there’s a man in a dark jacket bent over me, peering at me like I’m a specimen in a jar.

  It takes me a mome
nt to recognize him.

  “Blake Montoire,” I whisper. His pale face seems to glow in the dappled moonlight, and his eyes, which had appeared to be a normal shade of brown at the party, are now a chilling shade of almost translucent ice blue. He must have been wearing contacts so that he didn’t look so freakish.

  “That was just the name I used at that silly little party of yours,” he says. “Very frat-boy chic, if I do say so myself.” His accent, I realize, is vaguely French.

  “I wouldn’t know,” I mutter. “So I’m guessing you’re the Main de Lumière soldier who killed the real Blake Montoire outside our gates.” My pulse is pounding, but I’m trying to appear calm.

  “Main de Lumière soldier?” he repeats. “Heavens, no. I’m a Main de Lumière général. In other words, I’m in charge of the Louisiana division of our little organization. And you, Eveny Cheval, are our biggest problem.”

  I begin to inch away, but he puts an ice-cold hand on my arm, and I find myself pinned to the spot.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” I demand, trying to sound brave.

  He chuckles, and it reminds me for a moment of Pascal’s evil laughter. “So impolite,” he says. “That’s no way to greet an old friend, Eveny.”

  “You’re not my friend, you murderous asshole,” I tell him. “Besides, I don’t even know your real name.”

  His mirthless laughter chills me to the bone. I struggle again, but his viselike grip becomes tighter. “Of course. How terribly rude of me. I’m Aloysius Vauclain.”

  “No wonder you decided on an alias,” I say under my breath.

  He ignores me. “Now, before you waste any energy trying to get away or calling for help, understand this: I will not hesitate to strike down anyone who comes to your aid. Is that clear?”

  I swallow hard, thinking of Caleb. I glare at Vauclain and say, “You’re powerless now anyhow. We’ve restored the protection of the gates.”