“Right, it’s why the protective charms around the town are crumbling. I know all that.”
“But did you ever stop to wonder why the wealth of central Carrefour hasn’t crumbled too?” Boniface asks.
My stomach swims uneasily as he continues.
“A few years after your mother died they realized there was another source from which they could draw power,” he says. “They’re still able to execute small charms with herbs and flowers, and they do so when they can. But the bigger things—new cars, great wealth, unnaturally good looks— those have to come from somewhere else. So they tapped into the Périphérie.”
I look at him in horror. “What are you talking about?”
“The Périphérie was always less privileged than central Carrefour, but it wasn’t like it is today,” he says. “That’s a result of Annabelle Marceau and Scarlett St. Pierre realizing they could achieve great things by taking from the other side of town. Casting a charm to get a new sports car, for example. Because they can’t draw a large amount of power from flowers and herbs without having three queens working together, they cast using the Périphérie’s good fortune instead. So they get their car, but something of value crumbles in the Périphérie, the same way an herb dies in the world when it’s drawn for a simple charm. That’s an overly simplistic explanation, but you get the idea. There’s always a balance, and when it doesn’t come from plants, it has to come from somewhere.”
“So they’ve been taking from the Périphérie all these years, making themselves richer while people out there get poorer and poorer?” I whisper.
“Yes. I don’t approve, and neither do most of the people in the sosyete. But they’re the queens. They don’t need our permission. And until you came back, Chloe and Peregrine were doing the same thing. Now they won’t have to; they have you.”
My mind is spinning. “But look at all the destruction they’ve caused.”
Boniface nods, and that’s when I realize he hasn’t addressed the second verse my mother wrote. “What do you think the rest of her letter means?” I ask.
He looks away. “I’m not sure.”
I take the letter back from him and read it. Blood of my blood, in dreams I will come to show you the way. And suddenly, I know.
“I need to get into the parlor, Boniface,” I say. “There’s something in there I’m supposed to see; I think that’s what the verse means.” I quickly explain the dreams I’ve been having and the way the door handle burned my hand when I tried to open it. “My mom’s letter specifically mentions blood and dreams,” I conclude. “That can’t be a coincidence.”
He looks into my eyes for a long moment, like he’s trying to figure something out. Then he sighs and says, “There’s no missing key, Eveny. The room is charmed. It hasn’t been opened in fourteen years.”
Well that explains the burning-hot handle. “Who charmed it?”
“Ms. Marceau and Ms. St. Pierre closed the parlor off years ago. It holds memories that they wanted to forget—but that they couldn’t afford to lose altogether.”
“Memories connected to my mother?”
“I think I’d better call your aunt,” he says.
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m going to uncharm the room myself.” I don’t trust the mothers, especially now that I know they’ve been destroying the Périphérie. If they’re hiding something connected to my family, I have to find out.
I stride toward the house, and Boniface follows me. “Please, Eveny, I think you should wait until someone can be here to explain things to you.”
“Explain what?”
He looks uneasy, but he doesn’t answer the question. Instead, he says, “How about I call Peregrine and Chloe? Perhaps they should be here for this.”
“They know about the parlor too? Unbelievable.” Once again, everyone has been keeping me in the dark. I feel a surge of anger as I storm away, my mind spinning through the herbs and flowers I’ve studied over the years.
What comes to mind as I reach the closed parlor doors is a shrub I once planted in our community garden. Its technical name is Euonymus americanus, but it’s more commonly known as bursting-heart or burning-bush. Superstitious people put it over their doorways to repel unwanted magic.
It may not be the perfect plant for what I’m trying to do, but it should work. I stand in front of the doors and ask Eloi Oke to open the gates. Then I take a deep breath, think of my mother, hold my left ring finger against my Stone of Carrefour, and say, “Bursting-heart, Euonymus americanus, I draw your power. Please, spirits, open this door to me and reveal the secrets that lie inside.”