This Wicked Game Read online

  “A lot of practitioners—especially the old school ones—believe a spell or recipe is only as good as its endorsement by the loas.”

  Allegra laughed. “You’re saying we can create a spell but if the loas don’t approve it, it won’t work?”

  Eddie’s nod was slow. “That’s what some people believe.”

  Claire thought about it. “So if Marie believed her original Cold Blood spell had been blessed by the loas and she wanted to make a change so no one else could use it, she would have to ask them to accept the change to the recipe?”

  “That’s about right,” Eddie said.

  “One that will require an ingredient you will never obtain,” Claire murmured.

  “I wonder what the ingredient was,” Sasha said. “And if it was enough to stop Sorina.”

  “I think we’re asking the wrong question,” Allegra said.

  Sasha raised her eyebrows. “What’s the right question?”

  “Whether Max somehow got ahold of the addendum to Cold Blood. Whether he’s planning to use it on the firstborns.” She paused, her eyes wide with fear. “On us.”

  Silence stretched between them. Claire wondered if she was the only one who felt Marie as a palpable presence, as if she were looking over their shoulders, encouraging them to figure out the mystery of Cold Blood. To save themselves.

  “It’s the only thing that makes sense,” Claire finally said. “Why else would Max have the letters? Why else would he take pictures of the firstborns and break into their houses?”

  “They’re making doll babies,” Xander said softly. “Preparing to hex us with the Cold Blood spell as revenge for Elisabeta’s death.”

  “Now you’re thinking,” Eddie said.

  “What about Claire?” Sasha asked. “Why wasn’t her picture on the wall? Why hasn’t her house been broken into?”

  Xander shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe they hadn’t taken her picture yet. Maybe she’s last.”

  Allegra turned to Eddie. “Have you ever heard of Cold Blood? Is there a counter?”

  Eddie shook his head. “I’ve heard talk, but like a lot of the old recipes, it’s difficult to know how much of it is just legend. And if Marie did create a counter as the letters seem to indicate, I have no idea where we’d find it.”

  “Can we come up with one on our own?” Allegra asked.

  “Without the original spell, it’d be almost impossible,” Eddie answered.

  “Well, we need to figure something out,” Xander said.

  He didn’t have to say what they were all thinking; his house had already been broken into. Once Maximilian and Eugenia got ahold of something belonging to Sasha—and maybe Claire—whatever they had planned would be set into motion.

  “We could talk to the other firstborns,” Allegra offered. “Except for Daniel. He’s too young. But we could let Charlie and William and Laura in on everything and see if they have any ideas. Laura’s really talented with recipes. Maybe she could try to develop something.”

  Claire shook her head. “I don’t want to do that.”

  “Why not? Because you don’t trust them?” Allegra asked, her blue eyes looking into Claire’s. “They’re just like us.”

  Claire tried to think of a way to explain that wouldn’t sound offensive. “It’s nothing personal. I just don’t know them very well, that’s all.”

  Allegra shrugged. “Whose fault is that?”

  “Allegra . . .” There was a subtle warning in Xander’s voice.

  “I’m just saying,” Allegra continued, turning her attention back to Claire, “the other firstborns are there. They’d help if they knew we needed it.”

  “I don’t know.” Xander tapped his fingers along the edge of the table. “Maybe we should just take it to the Guild.”

  “No way.” Claire was as surprised by her vehemence as Xander. “They made Eddie out to be some kind of nut job just to keep their secret. I don’t trust them to tell us anything at this point. We could give them what we have and they could just pat us on the head and tell us to let them take care of everything. For all we know, that would be the last we heard of it, ever.”

  “Would that be so bad?” Xander asked. “At least someone would be taking care of it. Someone who knows what we’re up against.”

  Eddie chuckled softly. They stopped arguing, turning to where he sat, his expression as placid as the Pontchartrain on a windless summer day.

  Xander scowled. “What’s so funny?”

  “You,” Eddie said with a smile. “The fact that you still believe the Guild knows anything about what it’s up against.”

  “Well, they may not be doing much about black magic in our ranks, but they definitely know more than we do,” Xander said.

  “You’re right about that, my man. And that’s just the way they want it,” Eddie said. “Question is: How long do you want it to be that way?”

  The words hung between them.

  “Eddie has a point,” Sasha said. “Our parents might know more than we do, but that’s not saying much. I mean, it seems to me that they’ve made a pretty big mess of things. Not to mention the fact that, based on what Eddie told you, the Guild knew Max could pose a threat all this time. But they never said a word about it, and from the looks of things, they didn’t do anything about it either.”

  Allegra nodded. “Exactly. And anyway, each new generation in the Guild has to step up at one point or another,” she added. “The older generation becomes, well, old or tired or ineffective and—”

  “Hey, now . . .” Eddie protested.

  She smiled at him. “There are exceptions. I’m just saying that maybe it’s time for us to stop letting our parents take care of everything. Maybe it’s time we step up and start acting like firstborns.”

  “There’s just one problem,” Xander said. “We don’t have any idea what we’re dealing with.”

  “Right,” Sasha agreed. “We can’t even start looking for a counterspell until we know what the Cold Blood spell does.”

  Allegra leaned in, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Let’s think about this; if it’s used on someone’s enemies, it has to be a spell to kill someone in cold blood or with cold blood or . . .”

  “By turning their blood cold,” Claire tried.

  The words sat between them.

  “We can’t be sure exactly what it is,” Sasha said. “And it’s not like we have time to experiment with counterspells in the hopes that we stumble on the right one.”

  “I might be able to help with that.”

  They turned to Eddie.

  “You guys up for a drive?”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  They piled into Eddie’s car, Xander in front, the three girls in the back. It didn’t take Claire long to realize they were heading back into Treme.

  After about half an hour, they turned onto North Claiborne. The highway loomed overhead, blocking out the sun on one side of the street. A row of run-down shops lined the other. Eddie parked next to the curb in front of an old building. The structure itself had seen better days, but the red paint job was fresh, the sidewalk swept, the windows gleaming.

  For the first time in days, Claire had the urge to take a picture. Too bad she’d left her camera at home when she and Xander had left for Treme. Was it really just this morning?

  Eddie got out of the car.

  “What is this place?” Claire asked, stepping out into the heat.

  “The only one I can think of that might have an answer about the Cold Blood spell,” Eddie said, leading the way to the bright blue door.

  They followed him inside and were immediately plunged into cooler air scented with incense. Claire caught sandalwood, patchouli, frankincense. The light was dim, and she reached out for Xander, touching his arm as she waited for her eyes to adjust. Sasha and Allegra came in behind them and shut the door.<
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  “Be right there.” The voice was slightly husky and came from somewhere beyond the front of the cluttered room. It was followed by the sound of shuffled paper and the slow drag of something heavy being moved across the floor.

  Sasha and Claire shuffled nervously from foot to foot while Xander peered into the dim recesses at the back of the room. Eddie, unfazed, leaned against the wooden counter.

  Claire took advantage of the time to look around. They appeared to be in a large storefront, although it wasn’t like any store she’d ever seen. Bookshelves lined the walls, and an odd assortment of objects was stacked haphazardly on shelves, tables, even the floor. She recognized some of it: gris-gris bags in various states of disrepair, stained and unraveling dolls, sticks of incense—some of them half burned—standing up in a small vase.

  If the Kincaids’ supply shop resembled an old-fashioned general store, this place looked like some kind of demented thrift shop. Even after all the years Claire had spent working around voodoo supplies, she couldn’t make out any kind of organization in the jumble of objects, most of which seemed old, used, or damaged.

  The sound of approaching footsteps drew her eyes to a narrow aisle between shelves leading to the back of the store.

  “There! Sorry about that,” a woman said, her face and body just a smudge in the shadows. “Seems I never stop having to reorganize!” She stepped into the light cast from an old lamp on an oak table. Claire was surprised at how slight she was, both in height and in build. Her skin was as pale as porcelain, her hair even blonder than Claire’s and separated into dreadlocks. Blue eyes skimmed the rest of them before landing on Eddie. She grinned. “Had a feeling I’d be seeing you soon.”

  He stepped toward her with a sly smile. “Did ya now?”

  They embraced and stepped away from each other.

  “Therese Charbonnet,” he said, gesturing to them with his hand. “This is Xander, Sasha, Allegra, and Claire. Guys, this is a good friend of mine, Therese Charbonnet.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Her eyes rested on Claire. “You’re Marie’s kin.”

  Claire nodded.

  Therese’s eyes lingered on hers before taking in the others and coming back to Eddie. “You’re looking for recipes, dark ones, yes?”

  “That’s right,” Eddie said. “Cold Blood.”

  “Cold Blood?”

  “You know it?”

  She thought about it. “Not by that name, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t come across it as something else.”

  Eddie shrugged. “Don’t have much else. We think it was Marie the First’s. Could be as far back as the eighteen eighties, although it could also have been reproduced somewhere along the way.”

  “Wait a minute,” Allegra broke in. “How did you—”

  “How did I know what you were coming for?” Therese asked.

  “Well, yeah. We only showed Eddie the letters a couple of hours ago.”

  Therese’s eyebrows shot up as she regarded Allegra. “I imagine you would be able to figure that out better than anyone else.”

  Allegra sucked in her breath. “You see things? Before they happen?”

  Therese hesitated. “Sometimes. And sometimes I just know.”

  Allegra couldn’t stop staring at her, and for the first time, it occurred to Claire that maybe she wasn’t the only one who’d been feeling alone. Being a part of the Guild, really a part of it, and even knowing your place in it obviously didn’t guarantee smooth sailing. If Allegra was the only one of the firstborns with true psychic ability, it had to freak her out at least a little. And if her parents were as close-lipped about her gifts as the Guild was about everything else, she probably hadn’t gotten a lot of guidance. Judging from the look on her face, she had plenty of questions.

  “So!” Therese looked around the shop. “Welcome to my humble abode. I’m sure it isn’t up to Guild Code, but we do have things here that can’t be found anywhere else. No guarantees you’ll find what you’re looking for, but let’s see what we can do. Follow me.”

  She led them toward the back of the store. They passed tables and shelves, all groaning with the weight of so much stuff that Claire wondered if it was going to fall on top of them any minute.

  “What exactly is this place?” Sasha said.

  Therese’s laugh was musical as they rounded a corner at the back of the store and entered another room. “I call it the orphanage.”

  “The orphanage?” Xander repeated.

  “Yep.” She ushered them into the room. The walls were lined with books, the room separated into four equal spaces by yet more shelves. “I collect relics, books, historical accounts, recipes, antiques . . . anything related to the craft.”

  Xander looked around. “Where do you get it all?”

  “Estate sales, local thrift stores, yard sales, and online auction sites,” she said. “Anywhere I can.”

  “You mean anywhere we can,” Eddie said.

  Therese nodded. “Right. Eddie . . . subsidizes my efforts.”

  Sasha looked around. “So this isn’t a Guild-sanctioned store.”

  Therese laughed. “You could say that. Then again, the Guild isn’t really interested in what we do.”

  “But why collect all this stuff?” Claire asked, looking from Eddie to Therese. “What are you going to do with it all?”

  “Use it, we hope,” Eddie answered.

  “You’re collecting it to ward off black magic,” Allegra said softly.

  “That’s part of it,” Eddie said. “But we’re also trying to preserve the history of the craft before it gets waterlogged in the next hurricane or lost in a fire or thrown out with the trash. There’s a lot to be learned from the old ways. Even the doll babies were wrapped differently back in the old days. For all we know those kinds of things make a difference in the strength and purity of a spell. But you’re right; having weapons in the arsenal to deal with threats like Max is a big part of our motivation.”

  “So if the Guild won’t take care of it, you will?” Claire suggested.

  He gave her a slow nod, his expression grave. “Something like that.”

  She was still thinking about that when Eddie spoke to Therese. “So what’s our best bet? The wall by the window? Or have you moved everything around again?”

  “I had to reorganize last week when a new batch of books came in from an estate in the bayou. Let’s see . . .” She looked around, like she was trying to remember where she put everything. “Let’s start with that shelf, there.” She pointed to a shelf against the wall. “If that doesn’t work. It’s anybody’s guess.”

  Eddie sighed. “Okay, let’s get to it.”

  He assigned them each shelves, and they took seats wherever they could find them. Claire started at the halfway point, planning to work her way down while Xander worked his way up from the same shelf.

  “What exactly are we looking for?” Therese said from the other end of the shelf.

  “We don’t really know.” Eddie pulled a book covered in tattered green cloth from the shelf and opened it. “We found mention of it in an old letter, but there weren’t any ingredients and there wasn’t anything specific about what it does.”

  “Maybe we should pull anything having to do with blood,” Therese suggested. “We can go through them all when we’re done and see what we’ve got.”

  “That works,” Eddie said.

  For a while they were silent, lost in the never-ending supply of books, the musty smell of old pages, and the words of long-dead Mambo Priestesses and Houngan Priests. An hour later, Sasha looked up from a book in her lap.

  “Not gonna lie; some of this stuff’s starting to creep me out.”

  “I know what you mean,” Allegra said. “I had no idea most of these recipes even existed.”

  “If they’re even real,” Xander said.

  “So y
ou’re telling me, you believe in the craft’s ability to heal and protect but not to do harm?” Eddie asked him.

  Xander thought about it. “I don’t know. It just seems too . . . out there, you know?”

  “No, I don’t know,” Eddie said, firmly closing the book in his hands and leaning forward in his metal chair. “Where do you think modern voodoo came from? Why do you think that in a world that demands a scientific explanation for everything, people still turn to the craft?”

  Xander shrugged. “Why do they turn to religion? I mean, I may believe in God, but that doesn’t mean I believe every single word of the Bible.”

  “Xander thinks voodoo’s power is mostly in the herbology and root work,” Claire explained to Eddie and Therese. “Kind of like homeopathic medicine with a little bit of conjured energy stirred in.”

  “Okay,” Eddie said, “but if magic and medicine can mix to make something beneficial, why can’t it mix to make something harmful? How is it any different from modern medicine, which can heal, but can also destroy if used in the wrong way?”

  “I don’t know,” Xander admitted. “I guess I haven’t given much thought to black magic.”

  Therese gave a forlorn sigh.

  “What?”

  “Just . . . you guys are a long way from your roots, that’s all.”

  Xander flushed a little. Claire lowered her eyes back to the book in front of her, wondering why more and more, it seemed Eddie, and now Therese, was the voice of reason.

  The light from outside—already minimal when they’d arrived—had faded to gray by the time they finished all the books in the back room. Therese had long since gone back to work at the front of the store. Claire stood up and stretched. She’d made a list on her phone of spells involving blood and had stacked the books containing them on the floor so they wouldn’t get mixed back in with the others.

  “What did you get?” Eddie asked her.

  She looked at her phone. “Something to boil the blood, something to turn it to ash, and one recipe that seemed to stop it from flowing.”

  “Could that be it?” Xander asked. “I mean, if you turned blood cold enough, it might not move through someone’s veins.”