The Dolls(90)

My stomach lurches at the thought, but there’s no justification for protecting myself and my family at the expense of Caleb and his. “I need you to tell me how I’d do it,” I say.

Chloe’s grip tightens on the steering wheel, but after a long pause, she begins to explain. And by the time she drops me off at my front door, I’m beginning to have an idea of how I can change everything—if not for everyone, then at least for the future of the one person in my life who’s willing to sacrifice everything for me.





UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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29


T hat weekend, I ignore calls from everyone, including Liv, who seems to think she’s done something to offend me. I shoot her a text telling her that I’m just worried about the ball, but the truth is, I don’t have the energy to make up another story about why the Dolls are acting so strange.

I go to bed early Saturday night, hoping that I’ll dream of my mom. The more alone I feel in this town, the more I long for her advice and comfort. But my sleep is annoyingly dreamless. I wake up frustrated, wondering what good my powers are if I can’t call upon my mom—or at least someone helpful—when I need to.

Aunt Bea and I eat grilled cheese in silence on Sunday, and afterward, I shut myself in my room. I tell Bea I’m studying for a test, but in reality I’m leafing through my mother’s herb book, hoping there’s something there I’ve missed. Perhaps a “How to Save the Whole Town from Impending Disaster” charm? No such luck.

It’s nearing twilight when I head out to the garden to think. It’s the place where I most feel my mother’s presence, and tonight I want to do everything I can to channel her wisdom, in hopes that I can find some answers.

But all I’m left with are the cryptic words of her letter. In order to survive, you’ll have to tap into everything inside of you. You have the chance to become the greatest queen the world has ever known.

I keep searching my heart for insights she seemed to think would be there, but all I can find are betrayal and loss. My mother is gone. My father is gone. The truth about Caleb has come to light. Everything is wrapped in secrets and lies.

I’m still sitting in the garden a few hours later, no closer to an answer, when a rustling from behind the rosebushes startles me. I turn and see Boniface approaching.

“Oh,” I say, putting my hand over my heart. “It’s you.”

“Sorry, honey,” he says gently. He gestures to the bench beside me. “Mind if I sit for a minute?”

I shake my head, and he settles down next to me. I haven’t seen much of him since the incident in the garden where I nearly killed him, and although I feel like I should be freaked out by the realization that he’s been alive for more than a century and a half, I’m not. This town is weird, and after a while, the weirdness becomes the norm.

“It seems like you have some decisions to make,” he says.

I look at him in surprise. “How do you know?”

He chuckles. “Do you think I’m just here to care for the house? I’m here for you too, Eveny. You’re my family, just like your mom was.”

“I keep wondering what she’d do right now if she were in my shoes.”

He puts a hand on my back. “You know right from wrong. You realize it’s your job to stand up for the right thing. I don’t think you have to expend so much energy wondering what decisions your mother would make. They’re the choices that are in your heart already.”

“So what do I do?” I ask. “How do I protect everyone? How do I do what’s right?”

“Is your sosyete still planning to do the Mardi Gras Possession on Tuesday night?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Then go to New Orleans and work your magic.” He stands, and for a moment, I think the conversation is over and he’s walking away, but then he gestures for me to follow him. “I have something I’d like to give you.”

He leads me into his cottage, which is lit by a dozen squat, dripping candles. “Have a seat,” he says, gesturing to two wooden chairs beside a small table. I settle into one of them while he disappears. He returns a moment later with something clutched in his hand.

“After your aunt moved you to New York, she asked me to go through your mother’s things,” he begins. He sits down in the chair opposite me and leans forward. “Everything I held on to is stored in the attic for you. But this, I took down a few days ago.” He unfolds his palm, and I peer at what he’s holding.