“Eveny!” he begins again, but I shake my head.
“It’s all taken care of,” I say quickly. “Chloe told you about the lip gloss, right? We’ll find the killer tonight, and then you’ll have nothing to worry about anymore.”
“What if it doesn’t work?” Caleb asks. “And what about the future? The threat to you won’t end tonight.”
“But your responsibility to me is over,” I say firmly. Then I steel myself for the lie I’m about to tell. “I don’t need you anymore, Caleb.”
He begins to protest, but I don’t stay to listen.
I run back inside and stand in the doorway for a moment, expecting him to come after me. Although I fully intend to push him away if he does, I’m still disappointed when the door behind me doesn’t open at all.
But there’s no time to think about it, because they’re announcing this year’s Mardi Gras king and queen, and the crowd is going wild. Pascal is already on stage, wearing a crown and a sash that says KING OF CARREFOUR. I’m not surprised; apparently he won last year too, and if I were a betting woman, I’d say that he probably asked the spirits for some favors during a possession ceremony.
“And now, it’s time to announce this year’s Mardi Gras queen!” says the announcer, a silver-haired, faux-tanned man in a tux. Someone hands him an envelope, and as he opens it, his expression changes. He looks back at the crowd and says, “Well, this is unusual! For the first time in the history of this town’s Mardi Gras Ball, we have a dead tie for queen. We’ve split the winner’s bouquet in half, but we only have one crown and one sash, though, ladies, so you’ll have to share!”
The crowd laughs lightly and then quiets down again in anticipation.
“This year’s first Mardi Gras queen should be no surprise to any of you, since she was last year’s queen too,” the man says in his booming voice. “Let’s welcome Peregrine Marceau!”
The crowd erupts in applause as Peregrine glides toward the stage in a slinky black dress and red-soled Christian Louboutin heels. She accepts the small cluster of roses handed to her, as well as a kiss on the cheek from the host.
“So, queen number one, would you prefer the sash or the crown?” The host holds up a sparkly tiara in one hand and a pretty purple sash in the other.
“The crown,” Peregrine coos into the microphone without missing a beat. “I’ve brought my own sash.”
The crowd gasps as Chloe appears at the foot of the stage and hands over Audowido. He wraps himself around Peregrine and hisses at the audience while the host nervously holds out her crown. She laughs and puts it on as Audowido slithers around her shoulders.
“And now, for the announcement of the second queen,” the host says, inching away from Peregrine. I glance at Chloe, because who else could it be? I know the voting is fixed by the sosyete. She’s lingering near the front of the stage, smiling up at the host.
“Drumroll, please!” the host says, and the drummer in the small orchestra acquiesces with a slow snare roll. “Tonight’s second queen is . . . Eveny Cheval!”
For a moment, I’m sure I’ve heard him wrong, but when I look up at Peregrine, she’s smiling at me knowingly, and I realize this is her version of making peace with me. She’s somehow fixed it so that I get to be her co-queen, which she’s expecting will mean a lot more to me than it actually does. As applause echoes around the room, Margaux appears from somewhere behind me and gives me a not-so-gentle shove toward the stage. “What are you waiting for?” she hisses. “Go on!”
My feet carry me through the cheering crowd toward the stage. The announcer squints at me as I walk up. “Are you Eveny Cheval?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say, glancing at Peregrine, who looks triumphant, as if this moment is the answer to all our problems.
The announcer offers his hand to help me on stage, and after ascertaining that I don’t have a reptile concealed anywhere on me, he drops the sash over my head and hands me a bouquet of roses before retreating. Peregrine squeezes my hand and leans toward my ear. I expect her to say something sarcastic, but instead, she whispers, “If I’ve got to share this with anyone, it might as well be you.”
I look at her in surprise just as Pascal slides between us. “Looks like we’re a threesome tonight, ladies,” he says in a Barry White voice as he drapes his arms around our waists.
“You’re truly disgusting,” Peregrine says cheerfully, wriggling out of his grip. I do the same, smacking his roving hand away.