“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 gate.”
Concern flashes across his face for a split second but vanishes just as quickly, replaced by a smirk. “Oh, but you don’t know that for sure, do you?” he asks. “You fled before the ceremony was over.”
He’s right. For all I know, I disrupted the power of our circle by breaking away from it. I curse myself for being so stupid.
“Now, Eveny,” he says smoothly, releasing my arm. “I was hoping we could speak for a moment like rational adults. Do you think you can handle that?”
Instinctively, I reach for my Stone of Carrefour, but Vauclain’s hand shoots out again at lightning speed, his cold fingers wrapping around my wrist.
“Ah ah ah,” he chides. “Don’t even think about it. Using magic right now would be a very, very bad idea. I’ll have no choice but to end your life.”
“Get it over with, then,” I say. “If you’re going to kill me, just do it.”
He smiles. “But what’s the rush, Eveny? The small talk is my very favorite part.”
“Well, gee, don’t let me stop you.”
Vauclain laughs again, and the sound makes my blood run cold. “A sense of humor, I see. I like that. But then, I already knew you had wit. We’ve been watching you for years, and I must say, we’ve been very impressed with your aunt’s resolve not to introduce you to zandara.”
“I don’t see how that’s your concern.”
“She’s a wise woman, Eveny. She’s kept you from magic because she finds it detestable. Yet you seem not to have inherited her intelligence, for here we sit in a cemetery, just after you’ve performed a serious zandara ceremony.”
“It wasn’t some magic joyride,” I say. “It was a ceremony to fix what we screwed up last week when we opened the gates for that party. We were trying to get rid of you.”
He chuckles again. “How very foolish and small-minded of you to assume that taking care of me would remove the threat to your town. You must know by now that there’s someone on the inside who wishes you dead. After all, an attempt has already been made on your life.”
“Drew’s truck,” I say softly. “That wasn’t you?”
He looks offended. “I would never end your life in such an unimaginative way. Plus, of course, there are the far-too-obvious parallels with your mother’s staged suicide. But this, conversing with you in the very cemetery where your ancestors lie just before I end your life, well, it’s much more poetic. When I recall your death later, these are the moments I’ll savor.”
A chill runs through me. “So I suppose you’ve spent a lot of time savoring the details of Glory Jones’s death too.”
He laughs coldly. “I didn’t do that myself, of course. I would never get my hands dirty with someone with no real power of her own. And to be honest, it wasn’t part of the plan, but she was, how do I put it, uncooperative. Although I admit, the soldier who killed her has gone a bit rogue. It’s rather amusing to watch the unraveling.”
“Did one of your soldiers kill my mother too?” I ask. The words are thick and sour in my throat.