The Casquette Girls (58 page)

“
Bonsoir, Adele.”

The three of us whipped forward to find Sébastien and Jeanne standing near the old dormant fountain. Our anxiety-ridden laughs quickly faded.

“
Bonsoir
!” I said, surprised. They were the last people I’d expected to see tonight. I ran over and kissed both of Sébastien’s cheeks. When I moved towards Jeanne, she wouldn’t even look me in the eyes.

“You look
magnifique
,” he said, overcompensating for his sister’s silence. “
Tu est envoûtante.
”

“Watch out. She’s leaving a trail of glitter behind,” chimed Isaac, raising his sparkling arm.

“We’re here to see your father,” Jeanne said in a way that sliced right through me.

“Oh…
d’accord.
”

“He’s helping us organize the funeral arrangements,” Sébastien explained.

Jeanne looked at my two new friends and then back to me, apparently confused by the kindred vibe. “Double, double toil and trouble.” Only Jeanne Michel could insult someone by quoting Shakespeare.

“Fire burn, and caldron bubble,” I finished with a meek smile, not knowing a better way to comfort her.

“Maybe the three of you can go as Macbeth’s witches next year?” she said sharply. “Where have you been, Adele? Too busy making Halloween costumes?”

“
S’il te plaît sois gentill
e
,
” Sébastien pleaded with her.

And then I witnessed something I had never seen before – Jeanne started to cry. Even though her expression remained cold, fast streams of tears suddenly poured down her cheeks and rolled off her chin.

“
Désolé
e
!
” I whispered as my eyes welled.

She pushed past me and ran up the stairs. Before I could go after her, Sébastien grabbed my arm and whispered in French, “Don’t listen to her. She’s still in shock—”

“
Elle a raiso
n
,
”
I said. “You have no idea how right she is.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothin
g.
Rien
.”

He looked to Isaac and Désirée and back to me. Sébastien might not have been the beat-someone-up, big-brother type, but he was way too intelligent
not
to know something was up. Jeanne was too distraught to be thinking rationally; otherwise she, too, would have realized something was awry.

“Have fun at the parade,” Sébastien said to the three of us.

“You should come out later tonight,” I said. “Maybe it will take your mind off things for a little while.” Those were the words I said, but what I meant was, “Can you please stay in a very public, very crowded place for the rest of the night?”

We headed over to Bourbon Street and only had to wait in line for ten minutes before snagging the corner booth at the candlelit Clover Grill. I never thought I’d be happy to wait in line for a table, but it was a sign of life coming back to the city.

A waiter I hadn’t seen since before the Storm greeted us loudly as Isaac and I slid in into the booth across from Désirée. It was always a letdown to miss Blanche's shift, but this guy had that happy-to-no-longer-be-displaced glow. For tonight’s festivities, he wore a teased beehive wig with a fake, bloodied nutria rat nestled into it.

“Is Blanche off?” I asked.

“She’s gettin’ into character, baby. You’ll find her on the royal float tonight. Queen of this Hallow’s Eve.”

“Rat’s nest.” Isaac laughed. “Nice one.”

Our waiter posed for a second, with the
je ne sais quoi
that occurs in New Orleans when someon
e
get
s
your costume. This moment could happen on Halloween, Mardi Gras, any of the other two dozen holidays that require masquerading, or really, just any Saturday night in the French Quarter.

“And what can I get the Green Faery?”

I didn’t miss the opportunity to shoot Désirée a gloating smile.

“I’m not really hungry,” I told him. Giant crawfish pinchers seemed to have taken hold of my stomach.

Désirée took a small vial from her bag and waved it around, reminding me that I’d shortly have to consume something nasty. Our waiter gave us a
those-crazy-kids-and-their-drug
s
headshake.

“It’s part of the costume,” I explained, grabbing the vial. The last thing I needed was for gossip about me taking drugs to get back to my father. Gossip that would falsely explain my erratic behavior as of late and get me grounded for life.

“Mm… hmm,” he hummed. “Addie, you aren’t gonna wanna take a pass today. We got two boxes of frozen patties this morning.”

“What? Actual meat!”

“You can beat our prices, but you can’t beat our meat!”

“I’ll take the lot!” I yelled. Everyone laughed. “Okay, you twisted my arm. I’ll take a patty melt.”

“We don’t got all that. How ’bout patty, with egg on toast?”

“We’ll take three,” Désirée
said, eager to get on with it.

“Four,” corrected Isaac.

We all looked at him.

“What? I said I was hungry.”

Once our waiter was back behind the counter, performing with the spatula (it was a common theme here), Dee said, “Drink that now. I have no idea how long it will take to kick in.”

“What is it?” I asked, examining the small bottle of midnight-blue liquid. Little flecks of silver dotted the viscous substance, creating the effect of a star-swept sky.

“
That
is the Heightening Elixir,” she replied, as if no further explanation was necessary.

“It’s going to make her grow?” asked Isaac with sarcasm.

She rolled her eyes. “No. It’s going to heighten all of her senses. And ours.” She slid a duplicate bottle to Isaac, and turned back to me. “Please be careful, Adele. I’m hesitant to dose you because you’re alread
y
s
o
emotional.”

“What do you mean, heighten our senses?” I asked, ignoring the dig.

“The spell is going to increase all of your natural abilities – your strength, your speed, and whatever else it is you do. But it will also increase the strength of your emotions. Happiness, hate, whatever – you’ll be extra susceptible to it all. So, ya know, just watch it.” Her eyes bopped between me and Isaac. “I don’t know how long it’s going to last, but this is a superconcentrated batch, so at least until midnight. You’ll probably feel some kind of lingering effect until tomorrow morning. Maybe longer.”

“So, that’s how you knocked me to the floor earlier,” Isaac said.

“Ha, you wish.” She smirked and pulled a third serving out for herself. “Bottoms up!” she cheersed as our tiny bottles clanked together.

I tilted the little glass back and waited for the contents to slowly seep out and coat the back of my throat. My hand slapped my mouth as I forced myself to gulp the bitterness.

“Gross,” Isaac said, shaking his head like he had just done a shot of tequila.

Other than the acidic taste lingering on my tongue, I didn’t feel any different. “So, that’s it?” I asked. “We just hope that the symmetry of this plan holds up and that the elixir will heighten our senses right as the wormwood potion disrupts theirs?”

“Pretty much,” Désirée answered. “But a symmetric balance would be a dream scenario. Don’t get overconfident because of the elixir. It’s going to give you a boost, but you won’t have anywhere near the strength of a vampire – not even with the wormwood.”

“So no arm-wrestling contests?” Isaac joked.

Désirée looked at him blankly.

My mind lingered on the problem of their strength.

“
The Artemisia Absinthiu
m
is totally unpredictable. Assuming they
all
drink the moonshine, the spell will affect each of them differently, depending on how much they drank and how susceptible they are. At a minimum, they’ll start hallucinating and find their strength and speed muted because the connection between their minds and bodies has been compromised. In the best-case scenario, the ones that drank the most will experience a kind of berserk effect on their nervous and immune systems.”

“I wonder how long it’s been since any of those bloodsuckers have felt pain?” Isaac said with a little glee. “I don’t mind taking a hit or two if it means I get to see the shock on their faces when I hit back.”

I hesitated before asking the next question. “But… the potion’s not going t
o
hur
t
them, right?”

They both gave me a funny look.

“I’m… I’m just worried about my dad. Since he’s inadvertently become the potion dealer.”

“It won’t hurt them,” Désirée said. “It’ll just give them the trip of a lifetime.”

“Don’t stress,” said Isaac. “Mac’s going to be fine. I’ll have them in the attic long before they even make the connection between their hallucinations and the moonshine.”

I didn’t even like hearing the words “Mac’s going to be fine
”
because that meant ther
e
wa
s
a possibility that he might not be.

Désirée pulled four candles out of her bag. This might have seemed weird anywhere else, but carrying candles in your purse was a normal thing ’round these parts post-Storm. “Don’t light them,” she instructed me as she unscrewed the cap on the saltshaker. She circled her arm around her head, allowing the salt to pour out behind the booth, and then handed
Isaac the shaker.

I shrugged when he looked to me, and then he mimicked Désirée’s motion, and I completed the circle, emptying out the remaining grains.

Next, Désirée placed a full glass of water in front of the empty seat next to her, put a large crystal next to the candles, and strung a long vine of ivy around her neck

“What else ya got in there, Mary Poppins?” I joked nervously.

Isaac tried not to snicker.

Désirée ignored us and grabbed Isaac’s hand.

My pulse picked up.
Is this really the most appropriate place to be doing this?
I looked around – the old diner was dimly lit with candles, patrons were yelling over the blaring music, and everyone in the place looked like freaks in costume. There was less of a chance being noticed here than in Vodou Pourvoyeur.

“What are we doing?”
Isaac asked.

“Casting a circle for protection… to pool our magic and activate the elixir… and more importantly, to bind us. We’ll be stronger together.” Désirée took my left hand. “Hang onto your horses, kids; we’re about to be a legit coven.”

Isaac conceded and took my right hand.

“Close your eyes and concentrate, just like we practiced last night.” She took a deep breath and began to murmur indecipherable words. Through one cracked eyelid, I watched the candles spark until all the wicks burned bright.

“Repeat after me: Let all who enter the circle of the casquette girls and all of our lineage under your guidance do so in perfect love and perfect trust, Mother Earth, we invoke you.”

Warmth began to swell from their hands to mine. We repeated the verse with her again and again, until her words turned back into gibberish. Energy radiated through my veins, causing the beads on my costume to ripple as the warmth spread to my chest and neck and then to the back of my head.

Static broke up the radio waves. Isaac squeezed my hand.

I felt all the candle flames in the room flicker as we repeated the last lines of the incantation faster and faster. The coffee mugs on top of the espresso machine rattled
. The booth trembled.

I tried to contain myself, but a small gasp escaped my lips as I absorbed the supernatural essence.
My eyes popped open.

“Wahoo! I love bein’ home!” came a cry from the grill, which in turn got a receptive roar from the room of patrons.

Everything looked as normal as normal gets on Bourbon Street.

And so the casquette girls coven was re-awoken at the Clover Grill on All Hallow’s Eve, the year of the Storm. The three of us exchanged smiles, and my nerves slowly began to subside
. I can do this
.
We can do this together.

Or maybe it’s just the elixir talking?

“Don’t remove your
gris-grises
,” Désirée continued, as if we hadn’t just caused something totally freaky to happen. “My gran might look old and quiet, but she’s, like, as high up as high priestesses go – so those protective amulets are as good as it gets in this town.”

My hand rested on my chest where the little satchel lay beneath the glitz of sequins.

“Four patties,” said Rat’s Nest as he dropped the plates onto the table.