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Authors: Kiki Sullivan

BOOK: Midnight Dolls
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I look at him in confusion, then I peer in. He closes his eyes, and to my surprise, an image begins to play across the crystal, as clear as a television show on a high-definition TV. My breath catches in my throat as I realize what I'm seeing: it's my mother, years ago, walking across our rose garden toward my father. She's in a flowing white gown with a veil covering her long, red hair, and he's in a gray suit, with a rose in his lapel. I realize with a start that it's their wedding day.

“You went to my parents' wedding?” I ask in confusion. “I thought you were against their marriage.”

“Is that what your father told you?” He sighs. “I've made a lot of mistakes over the years, Eveny. But it's important that you know I never disliked your mother personally. I just disapproved of the decisions your parents made. I used to believe that tradition should come before all else, and that your parents were making a mistake. But how could I miss the wedding of my only son?”

I watch, transfixed, as my parents exchange vows, promising their futures to each other while Aunt Bea, Peregrine's
mother, Chloe's mother, and a handful of others look on. As the ceremony ends and they kiss, I realize I'm crying, but I wipe the tears away quickly and watch as the wedding guests turn and follow my parents. My grandfather seems to have paused in the garden for a few minutes to gaze around, and when he finally enters the house and approaches my parents, they're deep in conversation with each other, holding hands and looking into each other's eyes.

You have to promise me,
my mother is saying to my father as my grandfather joins them,
that if we have a child together, you'll do everything you can to protect her, even if it means putting the future of both andaba and zandara at risk. You and I both know that there's more to the world than magic. There's family, and there's love. I need to know that for you, those things will always come first, as they will for me.

I promise, Sandrine,
my father says, leaning in to kiss her gently.
On the grave of my mother, I swear it.
They both turn and smile at my grandfather, and for a second, my heart skips. It looks like they're smiling right at me through the glass. And then, suddenly, the image is gone.

I gasp as my grandfather pulls the Mind's Eye away and slips it back under his shirt. I want to reach for it, beg to be shown more, but he's already moving on.

“You see, Eveny, your parents went against tradition. They chose love. It wasn't what they were supposed to do or what those in power would have liked them to do, but ultimately, they charted their own course.”

I blink back tears. “So what are you saying?”

“That the doors that seem closed to you today may not always be closed. That you have to fight for what you believe in.”

“But how?” I ask. “Everyone keeps insisting that everything is already laid out for me.”

“And maybe it would be if you were only a Queen of Carrefour. But you're not. You're a Queen of Caouanne Island too, and maybe that changes everything. Have you ever stopped to consider that the feelings you're having for Caleb have something to do with that?”

“How do you know what I feel for Caleb?”

He smiles slightly. “Eveny, it's plain just from looking at you, from seeing the two of you together.”

I can feel myself blushing. “Okay, but you're saying that maybe my andaba side is somehow influencing my feelings?”

“No. I'm saying that perhaps the two sides of you are canceling all of the rules out. I'm saying that you need to learn to listen to your own heart. I'm saying that the only thing that's true is how
you
feel.”

I look at him. “I would have thought you'd be trying to persuade me to forget Caleb and go out with Bram. You know, secure the future of andaba.”

I'm surprised when he chuckles. “Eveny, I'm an old man. And one thing I've learned over the years—a lesson my own son taught me—is that in life, sometimes all you can do is sit back and let nature take its course.” He pauses and studies me.
“Do you feel something for Bram too?”

I hesitate and consider dodging the question, because, after all, it's a little weird talking to my grandfather about my love life. But oddly, he seems to be the only person who understands. And I'm realizing he's a different man than my father described. Maybe that means he's changed. He seems to believe, as no one else around me does, that I have the right to make my own choices. And that's what makes me speak the truth now.

“Yes,” I whisper. “But it's strange, because I've felt all . . . fluttery around him since the first time I saw him. Almost like . . .” I pause. “Almost like I already had feelings for him before we'd even met. That sounds crazy, right?”

I expect my grandfather to look amused, but instead, he appears to be considering my words seriously. “You know,” he says after a moment, “sometimes the way we respond to people the first time we meet them is a sign of what lies deep within our hearts, in the places we can't quite reach. Remember, Eveny, you're not like other people. You have magic in your blood, and that means that your intuition—your ability to read others—is that much stronger. Maybe deep down you're reacting to who Bram really is and feeling a connection with him because of that.”

I nod slowly. “It's how I felt when I first saw Caleb too. Like something I couldn't explain was drawing me to him.”

“Are you sure it was the same thing? The same way you felt for Bram?”

I consider this. “Yes. But what does that mean? How could I feel that way for two guys?”

My grandfather frowns. “I don't know, Eveny.” He begins to cough, and then he stands. “In any case, my dear, I need to get some rest.”

“Oh.” I'm disappointed. “Okay.”

He smiles. “It will all work out, my dear,” he says. “Just follow your heart. Eventually, it will tell you what to do.”

17

I
skip dinner that evening, because I don't want to face Caleb. Besides, I don't have much of an appetite. My insides feel like Jell-O, and I have the uneasy feeling that something terrible is about to happen. All has been quiet in Carrefour today, but I realize I don't believe that the evil lurking in the shadows has really disappeared.

I wander outside just after nightfall and find Boniface carefully trimming my mother's roses in the darkness.

“What are you doing out here so late?” I ask.

“Missing your mother,” he says. “On nights like tonight, I find myself thinking of all the things that could have been.”

“Nights like tonight?”

“Nights where the world feels unsettled,” he says. “Don't you feel it?”

My heart thuds a little harder. “I thought it was my imagination.”

He looks off into the distance. “No. I think you just have very good instincts, my dear.” He turns back to me and pulls a tiny sachet, not more than an inch square, from his pocket. It's pale purple and laced with gold ribbon. “I've been waiting for the right time to give this to you,” he says, handing it to me. “Your mother made me promise that if there were ever a threat to your life and safety, I would make you one of these from the flowers and herbs she loved most. It has Rose of Life petals to help keep her close to you, sage to sharpen your wisdom and clarity, and fig leaves for luck and protection. She was very specific about the ingredients.”

I lift the sachet to my nose. It smells strongly of my mother's favorite flower, the hybrid she created with my dad. “Thank you,” I say.

“Keep it close to your Stone of Carrefour, and when the time is right, I believe you'll find the answers you're meant to find.” He reaches over and ties it firmly onto my long necklace, just beside my stone.

“But . . . how?”

“By trusting yourself,” he says. He kisses me gently on the cheek, and as he walks away, my Stone of Carrefour heats up and buzzes against my chest, as if it's directly reacting to the sachet that now hangs beside it.

I sit by myself in the garden for a long time after he goes. There are so many questions swirling in my head about what to do. Peregrine and Chloe seem to believe the threat to the town is gone right now, but I'm becoming more and more confident that they're being naive. And the more I think
about it, the more convinced I am that I need to talk to my sister queens about the possibility of reaching out to Main de Lumière.
Some could be your allies
, Megan had said during the possession ceremony. I believe she was telling the truth, and if there's a chance she's right, I need to look into it.

I find myself thinking of the brief andaba training my father gave me in the garden.
“Con mi sangre, regreso a su intención,”
I say aloud, holding up my andaba cuff. I wish that the words could somehow send all of my confusion back to the people who are making me feel like this.

There's an increasing pressure on me to choose one magical tradition over the other, or at least to show allegiance to one town over the other. But what if I don't choose? Both zandara and andaba are centered around a need for sisterhood or brotherhood; we're always stronger when we cast with others. But what if I already have a higher level of power within me because of my strange blend of both forms of magic?

What if andaba and zandara coexist within me, making me different from everyone else who has come before me? What if I'm only weakening myself by trying to figure out where to fit? Perhaps it's not about fitting in but rather about charting my own course. I suspect I won't be able to do anything truly powerful on my own—you need three zandara queens or three andaba rulers to enact powerful magic. And all logic dictates that andaba and zandara shouldn't be able to mix; my ancestors on both sides specifically set up their magical traditions that way to protect themselves and their descendants.

But what if my very existence overrides those rules?

Suddenly, I'm convinced that if I can somehow summon Captain Cabrillo using my zandara herbs instead of the blood and muerte dust used for andaba, there might be some truth to my theory. I probably won't be able to get Cabrillo to actually do anything for me without the help of the other kings—or at least until I get better at harnessing my magic—but I'm desperate to know whether my zandara and andaba can work together.

I stand up and close my eyes, trying to remember exactly what happened in the ceremony on Caouanne Island. I think I can remember the words to the andaba charm my father chanted, but the key will be figuring out whether I can use zandara flowers and herbs to call Captain Cabrillo.

My mind spins through the various herbs I've learned about over the last few months. Finally, I settle on hollyhock, a plant closely linked with summoning helpful spirits. I know there's some growing on the side of the house, so I quickly go and grab a handful of its pink and purple flowers before returning to the garden.

I take a deep breath, pray this will work, and begin.
“Guardabarrera, ¿está usted ahí?”
I say aloud, knowing that my Spanish accent is probably terrible.
“Dejarnos entrar, señor. Dejarnos entrar,”
I chant a moment later, repeating the words of my father's andaba brothers.

I don't remember much else, but this seems to be enough. Once I've repeated
“Dejarnos entrar, señor. Dejarnos entrar,”
twice more, the air suddenly feels thin.

“Captain Cabrillo?” I venture into the silence. “Are you there?”

There's no reply, but I realize that the night air is now devoid of even the chirping of crickets or the far-off croaking of frogs in the swamps. I've managed to do
something
. I take a deep breath and continue.

“I know this isn't traditional,” I say, “calling on you like this by myself. But if you can hear me, well, please, I'm begging for your help.”

Still, nothing happens, and my heart sinks. I stand there for a moment, feeling dejected, until I realize that if I'm invoking zandara herbs, perhaps I need to do so using zandara traditions, even if I'm ultimately calling on Cabrillo. So I try again, chanting the words to summon our gatekeeper. “Come to us now, Eloi Oke, and open the gate. Come to us now, Eloi Oke, and open the gate. Come to us now, Eloi Oke, and open the gate,” I say, and in an instant, the air grows thicker and heavier. There's a low rumbling, like thunder, all around me, and I wonder if it's the two spiritual worlds pressing up against each other.

I turn my attention to my Stone of Carrefour and try to clear my mind. “Hollyhock, I draw your power,” I say, focusing on the flowers in my hand as I feel my stone heat up. “Please, zandara spirits, help me to communicate with Captain Cabrillo, who assists my andaba brothers in the nether.”

For a second, there's no response. But then, the rumbling stops, and a faint wisp of fog begins to materialize in front of
me. Within a few seconds, I can just barely make out the face of a man.

“Captain Cabrillo?” I ask, although the image is much less clear than it was when he materialized from the smoke of a fire on Caouanne Island.

“I am here,” a deep voice hisses, and I recognize the accent. My heart swells with relief.

“It's . . . it's Eveny Cheval,” I say.

There's silence, and for a moment, I'm sure he won't reply. But then he says, “You summoned me alone?”

I can't tell if he's angry or just surprised. “I—I wasn't sure I could do it. But yes.”

“Remarkable.” The cloud swirls and shakes a little, and I can see that he's laughing. “I wouldn't have thought it possible. Perhaps you really are the miracle they fear you are.”

“Who? Main de Lumière?”

He pauses. “Yes. Among others.”

“Who else?”

“You will see one of my sailors through?”

I'm confused briefly, but then I remember that in the ceremony we performed on Caouanne Island, my father promised one of Cabrillo's men safe passage to the other side—heaven, I assume—in exchange for assistance. “I don't know how.”

“Speak with your father,” Captain Cabrillo says. “I cannot help you for free.”

I nod. I should have expected that. “I'm sorry. I only wanted to see if I could summon you. I forgot that I'd have to
pay you.” I feel like an idiot. “It's different in zandara.”

“In zandara, you have other forms of payment,” Captain Cabrillo says. “Possession ceremonies, I believe. I don't ask that of you. But my help comes at a price.”

“Of course. Look,” I say quickly, “while you're here, can you just answer one question for me?”

The cloud swirls silently, and I'm afraid Cabrillo won't answer. But then, finally, he responds. “It depends what the question is.”

“Are we still in danger? Can you tell me that?”

He considers the question. “I only answer you, Eveny, because I see how great your power is and how useful you can be to me in the future. So the answer to your question is this: the enemy may be focused on you, but I believe it is your sister queens who are in danger now. They are seen as expendable, a means to an end.”

“They're in danger? Now? From whom?”

“That is all I will say until you have something for me in return.”

My heart is thudding. “But you say they're a means to an end? What end?”

He chuckles. “You, Eveny. You're the end goal.”

“Me?”

“Don't summon me again until you can pay the price.
Adiós
.”

And with that, Cabrillo and his cloud of white smoke are gone, whisking upward until they disappear. The air pressure
returns to normal, and I stand there in the darkness, breathing hard.

“I can't believe I just did that.” But before I can feel any pride over having summoned Cabrillo alone, using zandara instead of andaba, I'm overwhelmed with concern for Chloe and Peregrine. I have to warn them.

I consider briefly stopping in the house to let Caleb know where I'm going, but an image of him with another girl fills my head. I shake it away and hurry out back, through the cemetery. Cabrillo said I wasn't in jeopardy at the moment. I have to believe that's true—for now at least.

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