This Wicked Game Read Free

blood running through her veins, she had shown as little aptitude for and interest in the craft as her father. To the members of the Guild, she was proof that the Laveau reign was dead.
    Her father pulled through the scrolled iron gates leading to the Toussaint estate. The house came into view at the end of the drive, eight cars parked near the old carriage house at the back of the property. Her dad parked behind a familiar black Mercedes, and they climbed out of the car and headed toward the front door.
    The Toussaint yard was perfectly maintained, the jasmine along the walkway and wild honeysuckle near the front portico scenting the air with heavy perfume. The house was one of the oldest in the District, its large columns perfectly spaced along the terrace and rising all the way up to the elaborate cornices at the roofline.
    “Mrs. and Mrs. Kincaid.” Betsy, the Toussaint’s housekeeper, opened the door, waving them in. “The rest are in the library. I’ll see you in.”
    Betsy led them down the hall, the wood floors polished to a high shine. They were almost to the library when little Sophie rounded the corner at a dead run, black hair bouncing on her tiny shoulders. She skidded to a stop when she spotted them.
    “Claire!” Ignoring Betsy’s good-natured but obvious disapproval, Sophie grabbed Claire’s legs in a hug.
    “Hey, pip-squeak,” Claire said, bending over to squeeze the Toussaints’ six-year-old daughter.
    She and Sophie had a mutual admiration society. Sophie was always underfoot, always in trouble with Betsy, and always uninterested in the Guild’s business. Claire couldn’t help wondering if Sophie would grow up to be as apathetic as she was about voodoo.
    Sophie gazed up at Claire. “You’re coming to the ball, right? I have a new dress!”
    Claire nodded reluctantly. The Guild’s annual Priestesses’ Ball was in two days, and while it was far from her favorite event, there was no way she could skip it.
    “Claire has a new dress, too,” Pilar interjected, smiling indulgently at Sophie.
    “Okay, now,” Betsy said, swatting at the little girl with a dish towel. “Get! And if you don’t stay out from under my feet, I’m going to put you to work.”
    Sophie stepped away from Claire. “Bye, Claire. See you at the ball!” She skipped toward the kitchen at the back of the house.
    They continued down the hall to a pair of carved double doors. Betsy pushed them open and stepped into the library.
    “Mrs. Toussaint, the Kincaids have arrived.”
    Estelle Toussaint, her chestnut hair perfectly coiffed into a tight bun, rose from a chair by the mantel. “Thank you, Betsy.”
    Claire felt an irrational burst of panic as Betsy left the room, as if the rotund woman could somehow protect her from the vipers in the Guild.
    “Come in, come in,” Estelle waved them in, advancing on them with a drink in one hand. “We’ve all had
quite
a day.”
    Claire’s mother murmured sympathetically while her dad joined the others near the fireplace. Estelle came toward Claire, taking her chin in one hand. Claire wanted to swat it away, but she was paralyzed by the look in the woman’s eyes and the utter silence that had descended on the rest of the room.
    “My goodness!” Estelle said. “You’ve had a lot of excitement today, haven’t you?” She surveyed Claire, as if daring her to disagree.
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “Well, Claire.” She dropped her hand. “It seems you’ve secured your first Guild meeting early. Come have a seat with the others, dear.”
    Claire looked around the room. There were Julia and Reynaud St. Martin. They owned a wholesale store in the business district and were one of three families that occupied seats of power in the Guild, together with the Toussaints, who ran everything, and Claire’s parents, who were just figureheads because of her father’s lineage. The St. Martins’ daughter, Allegra, was a gorgeous brunette rumored to have a powerful gift for the craft.
    Claire