This Wicked Game by Michelle Zink Read Free Book Online Page A

had said, waving away the question. “No one cares about their purpose. People today don’t want to know about the past.”
    It had surprised Claire, the idea that the Guild—as much a part of her everyday life as New Orleans itself—was something some people didn’t even know or care about. That she was part of something so old that it was irrelevant, not only to her, but to everyone else, too.
    Claire straightened the skirt of her dress. Guild events always made her nervous, and she’d spent the whole drive taking deep breaths, talking herself down.
    They got out of the car, and her dad handed the keys to one of the jacketed men the Toussaints had hired to park cars. Claire’s mother put on her headpiece. An elaborate creation of black feathers and faux amethyst with a silver band, it matched her deep blue gown perfectly. It had been too tall to fit on her head inside the car. Now she adjusted it while Claire’s dad, dapper in his tuxedo, waited patiently and Claire held her bag.
    Her mother turned to her, raising her eyebrows in question. “Good?”
    Claire nodded. “Perfect.”
    “Is it even?”
    Claire laughed. “It’s even, it’s even. Now let’s go.”
    Her mother took her husband’s arm and the threesome started up the walkway to the house.
    The Toussaints had hired an older man to work the door, and he took their coats, handing them off to a woman standing at his elbow. Betsy was probably in the kitchen, watching the caterers with her infamous eagle eyes.
    Claire trailed behind her mother and father, trying to fix a smile on her face as they headed down the hall, her emerald-green gown brushing against her bare legs.
    A familiar blend of music grew louder as they approached the back of the house. Claire recognized the undercurrent of percussion—a distinctive beat that went hand in hand with many old-school voodoo rituals—coming from the soundproof walls of the ballroom while the strains of traditional New Orleans jazz came from the open doors leading to the back terrace. Estelle always had the music set up this way. As big as the Toussaint property was, the neighbors could probably still hear the music being played outside.
    Better jazz than voodoo.
    Claire stuck by her parents’ side, the drumbeat vibrating under their feet as they crossed the threshold to the ballroom. It wasn’t as big as the name suggested, but it did look beautiful, softly lit by the chandeliers that hung from the ceilings and the old-fashioned candle sconces that lined the walls. Tables were set up in a circle, the center of the floor kept clear for ritual dancing, and the room was decorated with elaborate floral arrangements combined with lush feathers. Everywhere Claire looked, headpieces caught her eyes, an explosion of colored feathers, jewels, and beads.
    The room was packed with people she didn’t recognize. While the Guild leadership was part of her everyday life, the Priestesses’ Ball was one of the only times she saw the other Guild members, people who ran smaller stores throughout the South or wholesale supply houses online and were deemed important enough to receive a coveted invitation.
    Percussionists played in the corner, and Claire’s shoulders loosened a little with the beat. She didn’t have to believe in voodoo to enjoy the music. It was a sound as familiar to Claire as her mother’s voice. She’d probably heard it in the womb.
    “Let’s find a table,” her mother said over the drums.
    Claire wasn’t surprised when she led them to a table at the front, near the dance floor. She might have been poor by birth, but Pilar Kincaid was no wallflower. She smiled and raised a hand in greeting to a few people as they passed.
    Claire and her mother put down their bags while her father went to get them drinks. After taking a sip from the crystal goblet, Pilar announced that it was time to “mingle.”
    Claire nodded, but she had no intention of mingling.
    She just wanted to find Xander.
    She made her way