Midnight Dolls (5 page)

M
y father's garden is much sparser than the one outside our house in Carrefour, which makes sense, I suppose. Andaba isn't based on herb magic the way zandara is, so there's no need to have a yard full of plants and flowers. Still, there's a rose garden on the left side of the house, and that's where my feet carry me now, led by the familiar, comforting scent that always reminds me of my mother.

“Hello.” I'm startled to hear my father's deep voice from among the roses as I round the corner.

“I didn't expect to find you out here,” I say, joining him in a small, circular clearing surrounded by pale pink New Dawn roses.

He glances at me. “This is where I come when I need to be alone with my thoughts.”

I hesitate. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No, no, that's not what I meant,” he says quickly. “I'm glad you're here. This garden, it always reminds me of your mother. It's nice to have you share it with me.”

“Mom would have loved it,” I agree, relaxing a little as I look around at the dozens of rose varieties, many of them similar to the ones growing in my garden in Carrefour.

“She planted it herself, actually,” he says softly. “Back when we were still crazy enough to believe in a future where we could spend time here as well as in Carrefour. It seems silly now that we ever thought either of our sosyetes would accept the relationship between us. There was even a time when we dreamed of bringing herb magic to Caouanne Island. We thought there might be a way to blend andaba with zandara to strengthen both.”

“Turns out there was a way,” I say, looking away. “Me.”

“That's not what I meant. You were always something separate from that.”

“Except I'm not, am I?” I say. “I'm some strange blend of both forms of magic. And I hardly understand any of it.”

He studies me, then sighs. “Can I show you something, Eveny? I think it might help make things a little clearer.”

I follow him down a path, through a small arch in a tall hedge wall, and into another area of his garden. I gasp as soon as I realize what I'm seeing.

“Wait, these are Mom's hybrid roses,” I say. “The Rose of Life.” Indeed, this whole section of the garden is filled with the familiar purple roses with gold-flecked edges, the ones
that I thought only grew in my family's garden in Carrefour. A small jolt of electricity shoots through me as I touch one. “You grow them here too?”

“The last time I saw your mother, when you were just a little girl, she gave me one of the Rose of Life bushes to plant on Caouanne Island. She said that as long as it grew here, we would be connected. Over the years, I've planted a whole garden from it.”

I bend and smell the roses, and when I close my eyes, I can almost see my mother reaching out for me.

“Did you know we actually developed the Rose of Life together?” he asks after a pause.

“Wait, what?”

“It's a hybrid. Magic had nothing to do with it. It was all science, cross-pollination.” A faraway expression sweeps across his features. “I first came to Carrefour as a botany student, you know. I had no idea the town was magical. I'd only ever known andaba. I took an internship working under Boniface, who ran a botany center at the time.”

“Boniface ran a botany center?” I'm struck by how little I actually know about the history of the people I'm closest to.

My father chuckles. “He's retired now, of course, but there was a time when he and your mother believed that zandara could be enhanced by engineering the very plants themselves. In other words, if plants with different zandara uses were bred together, the resulting plant could be used differently in charms. It was the first time I know of that science had been
used to tinker with magic. They were on the cusp of something very important, I think, but much of that died with your mother.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “So they knew you had magical blood too when they hired you as an intern?”

He laughs. “Oh no, absolutely not. They thought I was merely an earnest botany student from Savannah, and I believed Boniface and your mother were just two very intelligent plant enthusiasts. Once I discovered what your mother was, I realized I was unwittingly working on hybrids that would enhance her sosyete's magic.

“You could say the Rose of Life is what drew us together in the first place, actually,” my father continues, reaching out and touching one of the rosebuds. “At first, I thought your mom's goal was just to create a hardy rose that could withstand the winter. But when I learned about zandara, I realized it was something else entirely. She was trying to breed plants that, for a variety of scientific reasons I won't bore you with, shouldn't have been able to mate. But then she told me one night that she'd already managed to merge a wingtip rose with red clover.”

“Love, luck, and protection,” I say.

“Very good,” he says. “She called it a Happiness Rose. I was very impressed with what she'd done. She told me then that she was trying to breed that rose with acacia.”

“Acacia? For immortality and to communicate with spirits?”

He nods. “Exactly. I didn't understand it at the time. But what she was trying to do was to create a rose that was capable of bringing people back from the dead.”

My breath catches in my throat. For a moment, all I can think about is what might have been. If my mother had succeeded, perhaps she could have had a chance at returning to us. “But it didn't work, did it?”

His face falls. “I wish to God it had. But it's impossible. We managed to crossbreed the plants, but the magic never worked. The dead just aren't meant to return to life.”

My heart aches, and I can't find the words to reply right away. “So when did you tell my mom that you knew about zandara?” I finally ask. “And that you were magic too?”

He looks lost in thought. “I'd been in town for a month. We were in the garden at night, cutting roses, and Boniface had gone to bed. There was a full moon, and when she turned to me to say something, the way the moonlight lit her face made her look like she was glowing. Without even thinking about it, I leaned forward and kissed her, and it felt completely different from any kiss I'd ever had before, like there was an electrical current running between us. I'd never felt so alive, and I knew she felt it too. I was the one who pulled away, because I had a secret. I couldn't kiss her again until I'd come clean.”

“So you told her? About andaba?”

He laughs. “The words just fell out of my mouth in a jumble. I don't think she believed me at first, but when she finally
did, she looked scared. I had to reassure her that I'd had absolutely no idea when I came to Carrefour that there was magic in the town. I only realized when I saw her performing a ceremony with Scarlett St. Pierre and Annabelle Marceau one night.

“She thought we should tell her sister queens that I had magical abilities too, but I told her it was a bad idea,” he continues. “They would have believed I was there for the wrong reasons. I would have been thrown out of Carrefour, and I would never have seen your mother again.”

“But why?”

“Different magical groups don't usually trust each other, Eveny,” my father says. “Zandara and andaba both originated with practitioners of voodoo, but a century down the line, they're as different as night and day. I'd been raised to distrust anyone who practiced magic outside of andaba. And your mom had been raised with the same feelings about zandara.”

“It's why Peregrine, Chloe, and their moms seem to have a grudge against andaba, isn't it?” I ask. “It's the same now as it was when you were younger.”

“I'm afraid so. That's why your mother and I started dating in secret,” my dad replies. “Boniface was the only one who knew about us. I was surprised he didn't seem to mind, so I asked him why. He told me that rules shouldn't stand in the way of what two people feel.”

Heat floods my face as I think about Caleb. I wonder if Boniface would have the same kind of advice for us. “So Mom was in love with you from the start too?” I ask.

“I've never felt so loved by someone in my life.” He blinks a few times, like he's trying to get ahold of himself. “I didn't know love could feel that powerful. Until you came along, that is.”

“But you weren't there.” I can't help sounding as hurt as I feel. “With me, I mean.”

“That's what we wanted everyone to believe,” he says. “It was safer that way. By the time you were born, your aunt and your mother's sister queens knew my secret. We trusted them, but if anyone outside that circle found out that your mother and I had created a child together, you could have been in terrible danger. So I had to go.”

“I know,” I say softly. “I can't blame you for that. But it's hard for me to believe that you loved me as powerfully as you say. How could someone feel that way and leave?”

“That's exactly why I couldn't stay away, honey. The first time I came back was the day after your birth. I held you in my arms, and I couldn't believe how tiny and perfect you were. Your mom and I just kept saying, ‘We made this.' The love you feel holding your own child in your hands, well, it's a whole different kind of love, bigger than I could have imagined.”

“You felt like that about me?” I ask, suddenly choked up.

“Of course. The second time I returned was just before your first birthday. I know you don't remember, but your mom, Boniface, and I had a little birthday party for you in the back garden. You got frosting in your hair.” He smiles. “You can ask Boniface.”

I'm so shaken by what he's telling me that the only thing I can think to ask is, “Where was Aunt Bea?”

His smile wavers. “Your mother didn't want her to know I was there. She was very much against my presence in your mother's life.”

“Did you come back again?”

The smile vanishes from his face. “The third time I came to see you was four days before your mother died. Your aunt has believed since then that I was followed to Carrefour by someone powerful enough to temporarily disable Carrefour's protective charm. To this day, I believe that's impossible.”

“But she's always blamed you anyhow,” I say, thinking of all the times I asked about my father when I was younger, only to see Aunt Bea's expression grow stony and closed off.

“Yes.” He's silent for a moment. “But since the day your mother died, I've had only two things driving me. One is the need to protect you, not only because you're my child, but because your mother and I created a dangerous situation for you simply by conceiving you. It's my fault that you're in harm's way.”

“What's the second thing?” I ask.

My father takes a deep breath. “My work on this earth won't be done until I find out who killed your mother,” he says. “And until I put that person in the ground.”

A shiver goes through me as he pulls out a pocketknife and swiftly cuts one of the Rose of Life stems. “Here,” he says, holding out a bloom for me. “Your mom always told me to
carry one with me whenever I missed her. She said it would make me feel like she was here with me. Maybe it was just the power of suggestion, but holding on to one of these always did make me feel a little better. This one's for you.”

He tucks it behind my ear and kisses me on the cheek, and then he's gone. I stand in the garden for a long time, surrounded by the scent of my mother's roses and by a swirling cloud of facts about a past I'm realizing I never really knew at all.

W
hen I eventually head back to the house to get ready for tonight's ceremony, I run into Caleb upstairs.

“Hey,” he says, shifting awkwardly.

“Hey.”

We stand there for a moment, just staring at each other, before we both begin speaking at once.

“You first,” he says with an uneasy laugh.

I hesitate. “I just talked to my dad.”

He blinks a few times. “He told you the story?”

“What story?”

He sighs. “About my dad and how he failed your mom.”

“No, of course not,” I reply. Caleb has told me before that his father always blamed himself for letting my mother die, since he was charged with protecting her. “Why would you think he was telling me that?”

He looks away. “It's what your dad wanted to talk to me about yesterday, just before you were attacked.” He draws a deep breath. “He blames my family, Eveny, and he hates me because of it. Maybe you should too.”

“My dad doesn't hate you,” I say, although instantly, I wonder if I'm right. “And whatever happened with our parents, that shouldn't have anything to do with me and you.”

Caleb is silent for a long time. “Eveny, my dad broke the rules fourteen years ago, and your mom wound up dead because of it,” he says finally. “She was murdered because my dad wasn't there to protect her, whether you want to admit that or not. And within a year, he was dead too—because of the curse that hangs over the head of every protector if he lets his queen die. That's why we can't break the rules, Eveny. That's why it was so stupid of me to kiss you or to think we could ever be together. That's why it doesn't matter what I feel for you and what you feel for me. You want to wind up dead like them? Because I don't.”

“They're not dead because they broke the rules,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm.

“How can you say that?” Caleb replies immediately. “My dad was supposed to be keeping guard outside your house the night your mom died, okay? But he wasn't there.”

“It's not his fault,” I say, trying to cut the story off.

But Caleb shakes his head vigorously and continues. “Yes, it was. And it was mine too. I was really sick that night. I had a high fever, and my dad was worried about me, so his mind wasn't on his responsibilities. Before your mom performed
the ceremony with Peregrine's and Chloe's moms, she insisted that my dad go home. She told him to go be with his family, to go care for his son.”

“Caleb—” I say, but he just keeps talking.

“By the time my dad got home, my fever had spiked to a hundred and five. My mother had also gotten very sick and was too delirious to realize that I needed to go to the hospital. I would have died if my father hadn't come home when he did.”

“So he saved your life.”

“Maybe, but because he came back for me, he wasn't there to protect your mother. I lived, but your mother died.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “That wasn't your dad's fault. And it definitely wasn't yours.”

He turns to me with a desperate look in his eyes. “But it was. There's no escaping that. I'm so sorry, Eveny. So sorry.” Caleb shakes his head. “He left Carrefour in shame because he couldn't live with what he'd done.”

“I'm sorry about your dad,” I say, reaching out to touch Caleb's arm. “But you and me, it's not the same.”

“Of course it is! Don't you see? My dad put love—love for me and my mom—before his duties. He ruined his own life and your mother's because of one selfish decision. I'm not going to put you in the same kind of danger my dad put your mom in. Ever.”

“But it's different, Caleb,” I say. “He couldn't have known what was about to happen.”

Caleb pulls away from me. “Try to understand where
I'm coming from. You're in danger, and all I care about right now is keeping you safe. Whatever happened between us—whatever feelings we have for one another—it has to be over. All of it. Your dad's right.”

“No, he's not,” I protest. “You want to know what I was out there talking to him about? It was about how he and my mom broke all the rules to fall in love. They were never supposed to be together either.”

Caleb stares at me for a long time, and when he folds his hands over mine, I'm sure he's going to say that he sees my point of view. He leans forward and kisses me softly on the lips, but when he pulls back, his eyes are filled with sadness. “I can't. It doesn't matter how I feel. What matters is you staying alive. I'm sorry.”

He walks away without looking back.

That evening, I avoid Caleb's gaze as we all follow Diane and my father down a long hall and into a large ceremonial room that reminds me of the parlor where my mother used to perform zandara in my house. Even though I know Caleb's heart is in the right place, I still feel rejected. Knowing I'm apparently so easy to stop caring about hurts.

As we enter the room, Diane touches my father's arm and says something in his ear. He smiles and whispers back, and I'm struck again by the easy familiarity between the two of them.

“Want to light the candles while I get the fireplace going,
Eveny?” Simon asks, appearing at my elbow and smiling kindly at me.

“Sure,” I say, taking a long, antique-looking tinder lighter from him. I move around the room quickly until all the candles are flickering, and then I rejoin the group.

My father is in the midst of apologetically telling Caleb, Oscar, Patrick, and their fathers that they'll need to step out of the room, along with Diane, Shelly, and Veronica. “We feel our collective presence will be stronger if the only people in the room are those with magical abilities,” he says.

Caleb shoots me a look before ducking out, followed by the other protectors. Shelly and Veronica trail behind them, and Diane rolls her eyes dramatically as she strides out of the room. The door closes heavily.

“Now,” my father says, “shall we get started?”

“Wait,” Peregrine's mother says. “How exactly do you plan to execute this charm? I don't see what good we'll do here.”

“You're right,” my father says. “But Eveny's going to need your moral support. This will be her first time working with andaba, and knowing you're behind her will help, I think.”

I feel even more uncomfortable than I did before, but my dad's right. It's hard to focus when I feel like the two sides of my heritage are at odds.

“Fine,” Peregrine's mother mutters. “But let's make this quick.”

“Good luck,” Chloe says, giving me a small smile as she, Peregrine, and their mothers take seats along the wall.

“Thanks,” I say as my father, Simon, George, and I form a circle.

“Just follow along,” my father says, squeezing my hand. “Trust me.” He takes a deep breath and says,
“Guardabarrera, ¿está usted ahí?”

The other two men chant,
“Dejarnos entrar, señor. Dejarnos entrar
.
”

As soon as they're done speaking, there's a whoosh of wind, and the air changes in the room. I'm accustomed to the air pressure feeling heavier with the presence of a spirit, but this time, it seems to get lighter and crisper.

“Okay, Eveny,” my father says. “Try to focus your energies toward the center of the room.” He takes a bowl from the table and approaches the fire and begins to chant.

“Oh lonely warriors, spirits of the sea,

Hear our cry, accept our plea.

With grave dirt and muerte dust our passage fee;

With the strength of our hearts, we call out to thee.”

He throws a handful of dark dust from the bowl into the fireplace, and as Simon and George repeat his words, he raises the bowl to his mouth and blows the rest of the dust into the flames. He steps back just as the room begins filling with sweet-smelling white smoke.

“What's happening?” Chloe asks from behind me, her voice sounding very far away.

I don't know the answer, but I realize I'm not frightened. There's something about the smoke that comforts me, as if from a long-lost memory.

But I'm completely unprepared for what happens next. The kings step forward and, using small pocketknives, each of them pricks his own index finger and squeezes a drop of blood into the fire. The smoke swirls more and more quickly until it's collected in the center of the room. It takes on the shape of a small tornado at first, but as it whirls, it begins to develop features that look human. Soon, I can make out the faintest outline of a man's face in the spinning smoke. “I am here,” a male voice with a strong accent hisses from the cloud.

Peregrine screams, and George says quietly, “It's okay. It's a friendly spirit we deal with often.”

“Captain Cabrillo, commander of the
Nuestra Mujer del Mar
,” my father begins in a booming voice. “We reach out to you to ask for your protection and your intervention on our behalf.”

“Matthiasssssssss,” the voice hisses. I can see the lips of the foggy figure moving slowly. “We receive your
súplica
, your
petición
. On whose behalf do you make this plea?”

“On behalf of my sosyete, and the sosyetes of Carrefour.”

“Carrefour?” The cloud swirls before the voice adds, “Your daughter. She is here?”

“Yes, Captain Cabrillo, she is here.” My father nods at me, and I take a half step forward. I hold my breath as the face of the spirit materializes in front of me.

“Eveny,” the spirit says. “
Gusto en conocerla
. It is nice to meet you after so many years of
su padre
talking of you.”

“I—it's nice to meet you too,” I say, trying not to sound as freaked out as I feel.

“I understand you are in need of my assistance,” he says.

“Yes, sir,” I reply. I draw a shaky breath. “Main de Lumière is after me, as well as my sister queens and my brother kings. We need as much protection as we can get right now. Please, sir, we'd appreciate anything you can do to help us.”

The cyclonic mist shakes a little, and it takes me a moment to realize the spirit is laughing. “Such a humble request,” he says. “Very well, Eveny. I am sure you know the limitations of those of us in the spirit world. We can intervene in human affairs, but only to a small degree. So we will look after you and your friends to the best of our abilities. But our protection can only buy you time. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” I say.

“Muy bien,”
the spirit says. “Matthias, you are here?”

“I am here, Captain,” my father says right away.

“I will leave you the doubloons for José de Mateo, on your shore at dawn. I trust you will see him through?” The mist moves in my father's direction.

“Yes, Captain,” my father says. “It shall be done.”

“
Muy bien
. Then I wish you
buenas noches
and
sueños del cielo
, dreams of heaven.”

“And to you, Captain,” my father says.

“Dreams of heaven . . . to me?” the spirit asks. The swirling
cloud turns darker as he hisses, “But surely you know I am headed to hell.”

And with that, the smoke and the sound of his laughter whisk toward the fireplace and up the chimney. He's gone before I can blink, and then the candles all flicker out at once and the air pressure in the room returns to normal.

“What the—?” Peregrine's voice sounds terrified in the darkness. “What was that?”

There's the sound of a match striking, and my father's face appears behind the dancing light of a flame.

“That,” he says, “was Captain Cabrillo, the commander of a Spanish galleon that sank off the Georgia coast in 1622. Fifty-six of the crew members aboard were trapped in the nether. When andaba was founded, the spirits our ancestors reached out to were all buried in watery graves, like the crew of
Nuestra Mujer del Mar
, Captain Cabrillo's ship. Most of the spirits we've dealt with over the years are of Spanish descent, so our charms have evolved with Spanish words and phrases. For a very long time now, Cabrillo has been assisting us, in exchange for our helping his crew cross over from the nether to a true afterlife.”

I exchange looks with the others. “So that was really the ghost of Cabrillo?” Chloe asks.

My father nods. “I know that in zandara, spirits can only talk through humans, in possession ceremonies. But because andaba uses grave dirt, we're able to reach a bit further into the nether and get the spirits to actually materialize.”

“What was the other kind of dust you threw into the fire?” I ask.

“Muerte dust,” my father says. “Ashes and several other ingredients mixed with the ground bones of sea turtles. They help us to cross the line between land and ocean, life and death.”

“Turtle bones?” Peregrine says.

My father is quick to clarify, “We respect turtles as much as you respect snakes, I promise. We only harvest their bones once they're dead. In andaba, we see it as their final spiritual gift to us.”

“Ew,” Peregrine says. “It's still gross.”

My father shrugs. “Every magical tradition uses different elements, Peregrine. Some might say your reliance on a snake is disturbing.” He glances at Audowido before turning to me. “And now we must pay the price for Cabrillo's help. We must assist his sailor José de Mateo in crossing out of the nether.”

“How do we do that?” I ask.

“Cabrillo leaves us doubloons from his sunken ship, and we use it to pay other spiritual gatekeepers,” he says. He glances at me. “But leave that to us. Perhaps it's time for you to get some rest.”

I suddenly realize that I'm exhausted. “I feel like I'm about to collapse.”

My father smiles, but there's sadness in his eyes. “It's because it was your first time communicating with the spirit world using andaba,” he says. “The first time is always the
hardest on your system. And you did very well, Eveny. You've proven what I long suspected: your andaba abilities are strong.