But there were only a few that mattered. A few that jumped out at her:
Causing the blood to freeze in the mortal body . . . The doll babies crafted using personal objects of the intended victim . . .
And now she knew for sure what the Cold Blood spell was. Even with all the recipes for black magic that they’d seen at Therese’s, even with the evidence staring her in the face, it was hard to imagine someone committing murder by using a voodoo spell to freeze the blood in their veins.
Then there was the addition—one Claire could only assume was Marie’s addendum to the original spell. What did it mean by “blood given by one true and powerful enough to summon and call the loas to her aid?” Who was true and powerful enough to make such a summons? A Mambo? Or was Marie’s use of the pronoun “she” just a product of her time? A nod to an era where the most powerful practitioners of the craft were often Mambo Priestesses?
Claire’s cell phone vibrated on the counter. She reached for it absently, her mind still reeling from what she’d discovered. The display said her dad was calling.
She picked up the phone. “Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, honey. Listen, Mom and I were heading home when we got a call from Christopher Drummond.”
“Sasha’s dad?”
“Yes.” Warning bells clanged in Claire’s mind as her dad hesitated. “I thought you’d want to know the Drummonds’ house was broken into early this morning.”
She dropped onto the stool. “Is Sasha okay?”
“Everybody’s okay,” her dad said. “We’re on the other side of town, but we can swing by and pick you up on our way if you want. I just assumed you’d want to be there, too.”
Claire stood, picking up the book and cleaning up the dusting of coral root on the counter. “No . . . I mean, yes! I want to be there. But don’t go out of your way to come get me. I’ll ride my bike. I can probably get there before you.”
Her dad sighed, his tone turning worried. “I don’t know . . . Maybe I should have Xander come pick you up.”
She thought of the black Rover, the feeling that someone was always following her, always watching her.
But it didn’t matter. Sasha needed her. And Claire wanted to get to her as fast as possible. She would keep to the more populated streets and be vigilant for anyone on her tail.
“It’s fine, Dad. It’s not that far. I’ve ridden to Sasha’s a hundred times.”
He didn’t speak for a few seconds and she knew he was thinking about it. “Okay, but text me if you beat us there.”
“I will.” She was already on her way up the stairs. “See you soon.”
Claire hung up the phone and stopped at the top of the stairs to lock the door. She hadn’t thought to ask her dad about the store, but it would just have to stay closed until they got back.
She texted Sasha on her way to her room.
JUST HEARD. ARE YOU OKAY???
She was brushing her teeth when her phone lit up from the bathroom counter.
FINE. OK, NOT FINE. FREAKED OUT.
Claire rinsed her mouth before answering. ON MY WAY. BE THERE IN 25.
She was halfway down the hall when she realized she’d left Marie’s book sitting on the counter in the store. She ran downstairs and stuffed it into her bag.
Then she got her bike and pedaled for the street.
TWENTY-SEVEN
It was about five miles from her house to Sasha’s. Not exactly around the block, but not a big deal, either.
She made her way across town, glancing over her shoulder every couple of minutes, watching for the black Rover. But there was nothing unusual, no one following her that she could see.
She pulled into the gates at the front of Sasha’s property and worked her way around the cars parked in the driveway. She was easing her bike next to the garage when Pauline Drummond’s voice rang out from the balcony at the back of the house.
“Claire!” Claire turned, returning Aunt Pauline’s wave. Claire could see the worry on her face despite the fact that she was as pulled together as ever, her dark hair pulled into a sleek bun. “Let yourself in, honey. It’s so sweet of you to come.”
Sasha was in the kitchen when Claire entered through the back door.
“Hey!” Claire rushed over, giving her a hug. She was surprised to feel Sasha—tough, stoic Sasha—shaking. She pulled back to look at her friend. “You okay?”
Sasha nodded. “I think so. I mean, you know, I’m upset. But nobody was hurt, so that’s good. Everyone’s upstairs. Uncle Bernard sent over his security guys to take a look around.”
Claire sat down on one of the chairs that faced the eat-in counter. She pulled Sasha into the chair next to her.
“Did they take anything?” she asked softly.
“Not that we can see.”
Claire exhaled, panic building inside her like a wave. “Well, don’t worry. I found the Cold Blood spell.”
Sasha shook her head. “Are you kidding? Because I’m really not—”
“I’m not kidding,” Claire stopped her. “And that’s not all. The counterspell was with it.”
Sasha’s eyes were wide. “Claire . . .”
“Thank God,” Xander’s voice interrupted their conversation. He came into the room, his face flushed as he looked at Claire. “Don’t you ever check your phone? I’ve been texting you for the last half hour.”
Claire blinked in surprise. “Um . . . I’ve been a little busy.”
Xander sighed, stepping closer to her and pulling her against him. “I’m sorry. I was worried. I didn’t want you to ride your bike. I was going to pick you up on my way.”
“It’s okay. I was in a hurry to get here. I didn’t think to look at my phone once I left the house.” She remembered her conversation with her dad. “Speaking of which, I take it my parents aren’t here yet?”
Sasha shook her head. “Not that I know of.”
Claire texted her dad to let him know she’d arrived safely. When she was done, Sasha turned to Xander.
“She found the Cold Blood spell. And the counter was with it.”
“Wait . . .” Xander said. “What?”
Claire pulled the book out of her bag.
“Is that what I think it is?” Sasha asked reverently.
Claire nodded, suddenly feeling shy about it. “Yeah.”
“Can I . . . ?” Sasha reached for it.
“Sure.” Claire pushed it toward her.
Sasha turned the pages, skimming the recipes. “I remember when you let me look at this for the first time. What were we? Five?” She laughed. “Your mom got so mad. She snatched it away faster than I could say Devil’s Pod. I’ve been dying for another look ever since.”
“Well, you can look at it all you want later.” She pulled the book toward her and turned to the back of it. “I had this weird dream last night. I saw a woman, and for some reason, I was sure it was Marie the First. She was writing something in a book. I couldn’t see the words very clearly, but she mixed a potion and spread it over them and the ink just . . . disappeared.”
“Disappeared?” Xander repeated.
“Yeah, you know, it just . . . faded right in front of my eyes. So this morning I decided to see if maybe something was hidden in Marie’s old spell book. It took me a while to find an uncloaking recipe, but I finally found it in one of the wartime books. You know the ones with the—”
“Wait a second,” Sasha said, a smile beginning to turn her mouth up at the corners. “Are you saying that you, Claire Kincaid, unbeliever of all unbelievers, used the craft to get this ink to appear?”
Claire sighed. “Can we please not make a big deal out of it? Because I have a lot of stuff to tell you.”