This Wicked Game (22 page)

The air was quiet in the wake of the departing spirit. But Claire’s skin was on fire, the surface of it tingling with pins and needles like her whole body had been asleep and had only just awoken.

When she opened her eyes, she was surprised to find that her arms were stretched toward the sky, her hands covered in a powdery, metallic residue that must have been the potion Allegra had mixed.

She wondered if the spirit had gotten to the others in time. If it had stopped Maximilian and Eugenia.

She looked at Xander and Allegra, still staring at the sky, but before she could say anything a drop of cool liquid hit her face. She tipped her head back as three more droplets hit her face.

A second later it was torrential. Rain streamed from the sky like a waterfall, drenching Claire’s hair and the white tunic.

She let it wash her clean. Let it wash away her fear and doubt.

When her legs finally gave out beneath her, her body falling to the wet, loamy earth, there was only wonder.

T
his is what she remembered.

The rush through the forest, her body snug against Xander’s, her head bumping against his shoulder.

The rain, still falling. Not a cold drizzle but a healing warmth, washing her clean.

Allegra’s warm hand on Claire’s forehead. Her voice: “She’s too cold.”

Sasha’s eyes, dark and worried, when she spoke. “It’s okay, Claire. Everything’s okay. You did it.”

Then, the feel of cool leather against the back of her legs, her head in Xander’s lap. His head bowed over hers, tears falling onto her face.

She reached up to touch him, her blood-streaked hand resting against his cheek.

C
laire had been in bed nearly a week, hardly allowed out of her room to go to the bathroom. At first, she hadn’t minded. She’d been so weak that she could hardly keep her eyes open, even after the blood transfusion she’d received at the hospital.

Finally, she’d woken up feeling different. Clearheaded and alert.

Throwing a sweater over her boxers and T-shirt, she left her room, pausing in the hallway as she wondered where her mother might be. A moment later, she headed for the ritual room.

She waited by the closed door, listening to her mother’s soft murmuring from the other side. Finally, she turned the knob and let the door swing open slowly.

Her mother was there, dressed in the white tunic, her hair long and flowing over her shoulders. Somehow the tunic didn’t inspire the fear Claire would have expected after Maximilian and Eugenia had forced her to wear it.

It was just a piece of fabric. There were stacks more like it in the store downstairs.

Even more surprising, the sight of her mother, eyes closed and kneeling in front of the candlelit altar, didn’t scare her, either.

She tried to remember why her mother had seemed so frightening in ritual when Claire was a child. Now, she looked peaceful, her face beautiful as she murmured the words to a protection spell.

Claire wasn’t surprised when she spoke without turning her head.

“Come in, Claire.” She hesitated. “If you’d like.”

Claire stepped into the room. The smell of anise hung in the air.

Anise and eucalyptus and lemongrass.

Claire inhaled deeply. Her shoulders relaxed as the scent worked its way into her body.

White candles were lined up in front of a picture of her, a powdery residue scattered across the surface of the table.

Claire turned away, scanning the room. She found what she was looking for on the mantel above the fireplace, and she made her way to it, lifting the framed photograph and carrying it back to the altar table.

She placed the picture of her mother and father, taken at some long-ago picnic, on the altar. Pilar watched as Claire reached for an unlit candle. Placing it in front of the picture of her parents, she struck a match and lit the wick, watching the flame spring to life.

She sank to the floor next to her mother, their lips moving in unison, calling on the loas to protect each other.

Claire was rocking on the porch swing, trying to concentrate on a book, when Sasha came up the walkway.

“Wow, Sleeping Beauty’s finally awake,” she said.

Claire laughed, setting her book aside. “Very funny. I needed it.”

Sasha stepped onto the porch, lowering herself next to Claire on the swing.

“Feeling better?”

“Much,” Claire said. “Still tired, believe it or not. But at least now I can get through the morning without needing a nap.”

Sasha nodded. “They said that you’re lucky to be alive.”

Claire swallowed hard. It was true. She remembered the first time she’d seen them change her bandages at the hospital, the long vertical cuts Max had made along the veins of her forearms.

Xander’s words from the forest had drifted back to her:
They weren’t fooling around.

The cuts weren’t meant to eke a little blood out of Claire for their ritual.

They were meant to bleed her dry.

She took a deep breath, trying to banish the fear that always crept over her when she thought about Maximilian and Eugenia. When she thought about how their love for little Elisabeta had twisted into something dark and ugly in the wake of their grief.

“They say I’m going to be okay,” she said softly, reaching out to take Sasha’s hand. “Thanks to you guys.”

Sasha smiled. “We could say the same for you.”

After Claire had gotten home from the hospital, it was Allegra who had told her about the doll babies that had already been immersed in the potion containing her blood.

One of them had been Allegra’s. One of them had been Laura’s.

And one had been Xander’s.

They sat in silence for a few more minutes before Sasha spoke again. “How are your parents handling everything?”

Claire sighed. “I think they feel guilty. You know, that they weren’t the ones to save us.”

Allegra had told Claire the story. How Sasha and Xander had gone to their parents and told them everything after they found Claire’s bike. How the Guild had called the police and reported Claire missing instead of asking Allegra or someone else in the Guild to help find her. How it had rocked the firstborns, seeing their parents turn to law enforcement instead of the craft when they were supposedly its biggest advocates.

It was the firstborns who’d taken matters into their own hands, calling on Eddie and using Allegra’s second sight to see the sign for Loman’s Creek and the bridge Claire had been marched across by Eugenia, Herve, and Jean-Philip.

“Any word on Maximilian?” Sasha asked her after a couple of minutes.

Claire shook her head. “And Eugenia and her sons still aren’t talking.”

Once they’d gotten away from the ritual site, one of the Valcour twins had contacted their parents with the license plate of the Range Rover. The police had picked all three of them up a few miles from the site.

Maximilian hadn’t been with them.

“So he really got away.” There was defeat in Sasha’s voice.

Claire had to swallow the fear that rose in her at the thought of Maximilian roaming the streets.

“For now.”

“Have you seen Xander?” Sasha asked.

“He’s been by a couple of times, but I’ve been so out of it. I don’t even remember what we talked about.”

“He’s been worried sick about you,” Sasha said. “I don’t even think he’s bothered to hide it from his parents.”

Claire thought about it, wondering how Estelle Toussaint felt about her only son loving a disbelieving voodoo heiress who had spent most of her life wanting nothing more than to escape the confines of their tradition.

Then she realized it didn’t really matter.

She was wheeling her bike out of the store when she ran into her dad, replacing the lid on one of the trash cans on the pathway that ran along the side of the house.

He eyed her bike dubiously. “You sure you’re ready for that?”

Claire nodded. “I think so. I feel better. A lot better. And I need to get out. Get some fresh air. I’ve been cooped up in the house for almost two weeks. Besides, I want to see Xander.”

He smacked his hands together to clean them off. “I’m not sure your mom’s going to be too happy about your riding around town just yet.”

Claire knew he was worried about Maximilian. That he was still out there somewhere.

“I can’t stay home forever.” She stepped forward, kissing her dad on the cheek. Then she reached into her shirt and pulled out the gris-gris bag that Xander had given her when they’d gone to see Eddie. She’d worn it inside her shirt ever since she’d come home from the hospital. “Besides, tell her I’m wearing this.”

The worry didn’t leave his eyes, but a slow smile crept across his mouth. “Be careful. And text me when you get to the Toussaints’.”

She swung one leg over the bicycle seat. “Will do, Dad. See ya.”

She pedaled down the driveway and into the street. Her legs were weak at first, like she was learning to ride a bike all over again. But as she came closer to the Garden District, the city’s heavy, warm wind brushing her face like a friend, she started to feel free for the first time in ages.

The skin on her forearms was tight as she gripped the handlebars, the wounds under her bandages starting to itch as they healed. She would have scars forever. It was something she’d learn to live with.

Her stomach fluttered a little as she turned onto Xander’s street. Even though he’d been to her house more than once over the past couple of weeks, this was the first time Claire really felt in control.

Like she knew what she wanted.

It was surprisingly scary. Knowing what you wanted also meant the possibility of losing it.

She’d learn to live with that, too.

She pulled through the gates at the head of the Toussaints’ driveway, slowing when she came to the house. She walked the bike to the fence and leaned it against the iron railing.

“Claire!” Sophie came bounding from the side of the house, throwing herself at Claire. Her forearms stung as she wrapped her arms around Sophie’s small body, but she didn’t mind. It was the first time someone had treated her like they used to. Like she was still the same old Claire and not something fragile and broken.

“Is Xander home?” she asked.

Sophie nodded. “In the house. I’d take you, but I’m playing hide-and-seek with Betsy and I don’t have much time left.”

“I understand,” Claire said with a smile. “I know the way in.”

She skipped off, and Claire headed for the porch. She was almost to the stairs when Betsy opened the front door.

“Claire! My goodness, child! What are you doing here? Aren’t you still recovering?”

Claire stopped at the bottom of the stairs, already a little tired. “I’m feeling a lot better, actually.” She remembered Sophie. “I thought you were playing hide-and-seek with Sophie.”

“Psh! I just tell her that to get her out from under my feet now and then,” she said.

Claire laughed. “Nice! Um . . . Is Xander around?”

Betsy grinned, stepping onto the porch. “He sure is. And I’m willing to bet you’ll wipe the sour look off his face, too. Been carrying it around ever since that night.”

Claire wasn’t sure how much Betsy knew, but the police had been told it was a garden-variety kidnapping by a voodoo nutcase. Since Eugenia, Herve, and Jean-Philip weren’t talking, it was doubtful they were going to say anything different.

“Let me help you now,” Betsy said, starting down the steps. “Alexandre is in the—” She stopped as Xander came out onto the porch, followed by Estelle and Bernard, and surprisingly, Eddie Clement. “Oh, there he is!”

She’d come to see Xander, but she couldn’t hide her surprise at seeing Eddie, standing on the Toussaints’ porch like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Eddie?”

He hurried down the steps with open arms, squeezing her in an embrace. The scent of sandalwood drifted to her from his printed tunic.

He pulled back, studying her face. “You look pretty good, all things considered.”

“Thanks to you,” she said. “You and everyone else.”

He chuckled. “Are you kidding? I’ve wanted to lead a black magic smackdown for years.” His expression darkened. “But I am glad you’re okay. You had us worried there for a while.”

She smiled. “What are you doing here?”

Eddie glanced back at the Toussaints. “Let’s just say the Toussaints and I were discussing a potential partnership. But that’s Guild business. I’ll tell you all about it later.” He looked at Xander. “I’m guessing you have more important things on your mind.”

He headed down the walkway.

“We’ll see you Tuesday,” Bernard called out to him.

Tuesday? Claire felt like she’d woken up in some kind of alternative reality. That was the only way to explain the fact that the Toussaints were being friendly to Eddie Clement. That they were talking about Guild
business
with him.

Obviously, a lot had happened in the weeks she’d been recovering.

Claire turned to Xander. All of the fear and pain seeped out of her at the sight of him.

He stepped off the porch and then stopped. She saw the conflict in his eyes as his parents stood watching.

Claire looked at the Toussaints, not wanting to be rude. “Hello, Aunt Estelle and Uncle Bernard.”

Bernard put his arm around his wife. “Hello, Claire. Are you feeling better?”

She nodded. “Much, thank you.”

She moved toward Xander, her eyes on him every step of the way. She didn’t stop until she was right in front of him, only a couple of inches between their bodies.

She looked up, feeling shy. “Hi.”

He swallowed nervously. “Hi.”

“I hope it’s okay that I came,” she said.

“It’s more than okay,” he said softly.

He stood still, his hands at his sides. Waiting, she knew, for her.

She took a step forward and stood on her tiptoes, wrapping her arms around his neck as Estelle and Bernard looked on.