by Lea Nolan
She swallows. “Because I don’t want anything to do with one. Not in my kitchen, not in my practice. It’s evil through and through.”
“Then how’d you get one to test?”
Her face turns hard. “I once knew someone who had one, along with a whole slew of other bad magic curios. He hotfooted it out of here in a hurry one day and left his supplies behind. They’ve been under lock and key ever since, in case I needed them. You never know when you might need to fight fire with fire.” She sets her teeth as her gaze drifts out the window, into the backyard. She’s slipped into that dark place again.
My heart aches for her. “Who was it?” The words blurt from my mouth before I have a chance to stop them.
Drawing a deep breath, she pats my hand. “A bad man who did bad things and was fixing to do something even worse before I fixed him instead. But that was a long time ago. He’s long gone now.” Her voice fades. It sounds tired. Old.
Her words sink in and weigh heavy on my chest. Though I don’t totally understand what she said, something tells me she’s just confided something very serious. And quite possibly grim. It’s clear she’s finished talking about it and frankly, I’m not sure I want to know more about someone so horrible.
“So the Black Cat Bone. Is it what I think it is? Like, literally a bone from a black cat?”
Yeah, definitely a more uplifting subject than bad guys.
She nods. “Harvested after sacrificing the creature alive in a vat of boiling water. When the water cooks off, it’s the bone sitting on the top of the pile. Only the most wicked, dark-hearted soul would stoop to create one. Whole, that bone can be used for invisibility spells and to bring back a lost lover. But I got to thinking, what if Sabina ground one into a powder? What would all that all concentrated villainy and terror be capable of?”
“Igniting a revenge curse?” I suggest.
“Like a stick of dynamite.”
“So what do we do? How do you combat concentrated villainy and terror?”
“Oldest answer in the book: pure love.”
“Okay, but how?” I think back to how I broke The Creep. “Do I have to cut my palm again? Because that hurt like a mother.”
“Your blood saved your brother Jack because it represented your love for him. This hex is something else entirely. You need to find something that’s specific to Cooper, the curse it represents, and it’s got to hold the power of pure love.”
Uh, sure that shouldn’t be too hard to find.
My brain starts to pound. “What could that be?” I scratch my head.
“Don’t look at me. You’re his girlfriend. Besides, you’ve got the most natural ability I’ve ever seen. I’ve no doubt you’ll find something in that mansion of theirs that’ll work.”
Considering tonight’s colossal mistake with the energy tea, I’m stunned by her assessment. “You really think so?”
She nods. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t. Though I confess, it is confounding.” She reaches for another drink of water.
“Why? Because I’m a buckruh comeyah?” I tip the glass to her lips.
Her brow creases as if I’ve just asked the stupidest thing ever. “No, because you don’t come to hoodoo naturally, through your family lineage. It’s not often that someone without magic in their blood can be such a strong conjurer. But sometimes hoodoo picks its practitioners and not the other way around.”
I think back on her demonstration this morning with Taneea. “Do you think I’ll ever learn to do one of those element-control things with my mind?”
Her brow quirks. “What are you talking about?”
“This morning you made the wind blow and thunder boom when you were trying to make a point with Taneea. That was amazing.”
She waves her hand. “It wasn’t anything more than directing my intention and energy. Under all the herbs, roots, and curios, if the power is within you, and you’ve got enough focus and determination, you can make anything happen with your mind. Which is why I’m sure you can figure out what to use to counteract the Black Cat Bone.”
I appreciate her confidence, but since Cooper’s not even returning our texts, it might be more difficult than she imagines. At least I’ve still got a few days to puzzle this out. In the meantime, I’m not leaving her side until I’m sure she’s okay. It’s the least I can do to make things up to her.
“I don’t want to leave you alone tonight.”
“You don’t have to do that.” But judging from the light beaming in her eyes, she doesn’t mind one bit.
“I know. But I want to. Besides, I’m betting Taneea’s not coming home anytime soon and you need help. I’ll call my dad and tell him Jack and I are sleeping over. Of course, he’ll think we’re up at the Big House, but I don’t have to correct him.”
She smiles. “Thank you, Emma. You’re a good girl.”
I can’t help but think of our earlier argument. “Not always.”
“Enough of the time.” Miss Delia’s lids sag.
“I’ll let you sleep.” I pull the sheet up under her chin, turn off the light, and leave her bedroom.
Jack’s in the living room, lounging on the couch, squinting at the grainy television picture. “I know Miss D doesn’t have the money for a flat screen, but this blows.”
“Well, you’d better deal with it. We’re staying here tonight.”
“I get it. She needs us.”
I breathe a sigh of relief that we don’t have to fight about this. “Hey, can you give me your cell? I want to call Dad.”
“Sure.” He fishes in his pocket for his phone, then tosses it to me.
As I’m dialing, Miss Delia shrieks, “Emma! Emma!”
I spin on my heels and race toward her room. Jack’s right behind me.
Crashing in her room, I slam on the light switch and dash to her bedside. “What’s the matter?”
She’s propped up on her elbows, her brown, rheumy eyes filled with panic. “You’ve got to leave. Right away.” Her hand is clutched around the green and white beads of her collier.
“What? Why? You can’t take care of yourself,” I argue.
She shakes her head. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. And I won’t be alone for long. You’ve got to go and take my spell book and the ancestors’ mortar and dagger with you. Now. You don’t have a minute to lose.” She’s trembling.
“Uh, okay.” My heart jackhammers as I spin around and bump into Jack on my way out of her room.
“And gather some agrimony, rue, buchu, and anything else you think you might need while you’re at it.” Her voice is strained and brimming with alarm.
Charging to the kitchen, I grab the dagger and toss it into the mortar, which still contains the remnants from our failed Psychic Vision spell. I’ll clean it out later.
“Am I allowed in?” Jack’s voice carries through the swinging door. “You’re going to need help carrying that thing.”
He’s right. But he’s never been in the kitchen before, though I’m guessing Miss Delia wouldn’t give a flying fig plant about her rules right now. “Sure,” I answer as I scurry around, grabbing crocks from the shelves and tossing their contents into various Ziploc bags.
Jack sidles up to the granite mortar and tries to lift it. He groans as his muscles tense and bulge, and his face bypasses red and goes straight to purple. Setting it back down he grunts. “That sucker is heavy.”
“Yeah, I know.” I toss a handful of bags into the vessel and race to fill more. “I’ll help you carry it in a second. Why don’t you drive the golf cart up to the gate? That way we won’t have to drag that thing across the yard.”
“Good thinking.” He shakes out his arms. “Be right back.”
By the time I’ve gathered the rest of the supplies, Jack’s back in the house, my messenger bag in his hands. “Here, I figured you might need this.”
“Awesome, thanks.” I slip the spell book and pirate’s dagger into the bag, then sling it over my shoulder. We’re ready to go. Except,
I can’t leave without saying good-bye to Miss Delia. “I’ll be right back.” I bolt from the kitchen, then duck my head into her bedroom door. “We’re ready. I’ve got everything you said and a few other things.”
“Good girl.”
“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”
She shakes her head, her eyes like glassy pools. “No child. You can’t come back. Not for a while. I’ll let you know when it’s okay. Until then, you must promise you won’t come back here.”
My heart seizes. “But, what about Cooper’s birthday? I still don’t know what to do.”
“You’re smart. You’ll figure it out.”
“But—”
“But nothing. Go. Now.” She points a gnarled finger toward the hall.
“Okay.” I run back to the kitchen and stand next to the ancestors’ mortar, across from Jack. “You take one side, and I’ll take the other.”
We lift the mortar slowly, then shuffle across the room in baby steps. Even with his help, I’m reasonably sure my arms might rip from their sockets. This thing was heavy when Cooper and I carried it from the museum, but now I realize how much more of the load he carried. Jack’s not a weakling but he’s no Cooper Beaumont.
Finally we make it out of the kitchen, across the living room and porch, down the steps, then out through the yard. There’s more grunting and huffing and puffing then a Three Little Pigs story, but somehow we make it to the golf cart without Jack having a hernia. We set the mortar on the back-facing rear seat, then jump in and get out of there as fast as possible. Which isn’t saying much considering the cart’s top speed is fifteen miles an hour.
Near the end of the long dirt driveway, I hear the rumble of engines nearby. They’re idling in place. One is definitely big and loud, a motor as much for show as performance. The other rattles, but doesn’t sound quite as impressive.
Jack pulls off the opposite side of the road into a grove of large live oaks and kills the headlights. Slowly, he drives the silent golf cart toward the sound of the engines.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
“Don’t you want to see who it is? This is our chance.”
He’s right. Though if the panic I saw in Miss Delia’s eyes is any indication, we don’t want to meet the drivers in person. “Okay, but don’t get too close.”
Cloaked by the live oaks and their sheets of hanging moss, the cart approaches the end of the dirt road. The cars are pulled over on the side of the street that runs perpendicular to where we are and connects to Sea Island Parkway. Their headlights cast a ghostly glow. Taneea’s obnoxious pink truck is in front. Claude’s black Lincoln sits behind hers. Taneea and Claude are standing between the two vehicles, locked in serious conversation. Even at night, Claude’s wearing his ridiculous glasses.
Jack and I hold our breath in silence and watch as Claude says something that makes Taneea’s face lights up. She jumps up and down and claps her hands. Whatever it is, it’s made her happier then I’ve seen her in weeks. And he looks pretty pleased as well. His ultrabright smile glows in the dark.
A few moments later, Taneea gives him a quick hug and then scampers off to her truck. Once again she doesn’t seem to have a problem climbing into the cab. My fist clenches, and I imagine the satisfaction of slamming it into her smirking face.
She revs the engine, then pulls off, spinning her wheels as she turns down the dirt road and races toward Miss Delia’s house.
Claude watches, beaming. After she’s gone, he looks up at the moon and stares in quiet contemplation. Then he throws back his head and lets loose a wicked cackle. Clutching his side, he bends at the waist and howls in deep, belly-rolling laughter. When he quiets, he climbs into his car, and makes a U-turn, pulling on to Sea Island Parkway, and drives into the night.
Chapter Twenty-one
My eyes fly open, a fully formed plan fresh in my dream-clogged head. It’s so obvious I can’t believe I didn’t think of it last night at Miss Delia’s. Cooper’s Protective Shield mojo, the one I made for him, is all I’ll need to break the Beaumont Curse. Crafted especially for him, it’s also related to the curse, and it’s filled with my love for him.
Easy-peasy lemon-squeezy.
A smile slides across my face as I sink back into my pillow, relieved to have figured it all out with two days to go before his birthday. All it took was a good night’s sleep. Now I can get a little more shut-eye before Jack and I figure out what to do with the dagger and the ancestors’ mortar.
My eyes spring open again. The dagger and the mortar. It was so dark when we got back, we hid them behind Dad’s workshop but they can’t stay there, or anywhere Claude is likely to search at High Point Bluff. As much as I’d love to lie under my cozy covers, we’ve got to find a place to stow them for real. And fast. After seeing Claude’s bizarre moon dance last night, I don’t put anything past him.
Kicking off the covers, I throw on some clothes, then rush to Jack’s room, but he’s already out of bed. I trudge down the stairs and find him at the kitchen table, a giant bowl of cereal in front of him and his cell phone at his side.
“Hey,” he mumbles around a mouth full of Crunchy Crumbles.
I slide out a chair and plop down. “We’ve got to figure out what to do with the mortar and the knife.”
“Way ahead of you. The Beaumont cemetery. It’s off-limits and so overgrown, no one will notice if we stow them in the crypt.”
Occasionally my brother is a genius. This is one of those times.
“Awesome.” I breathe a sigh of relief and dive my hand into the cereal box, pulling out a fistful of Crumbles. There’s no way Claude would go trudging through that kudzu-infested mess. Though I can’t help but feel a wee bit guilty about breaking our promise to our dad. The cemetery is officially off-limits without his supervision, but it’s not like we’ve got any other choice.
He smirks. “I know. You can tell me I’m brilliant now. I won’t disagree.”
I roll my eyes as I munch the sugar-coated oat clusters, relishing the opportunity to keep the compliment to myself, if only because he’s asked for it. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
He laughs. “You suck.”
“Whatever.” I shrug and dig in for some more cereal. Something occurs to me. “I don’t think we can get the golf cart between those graves. And no offense, but you can’t carry that thing through the cemetery. I won’t be much help either. My arms are still killing me from last night.”
“Got that covered too.” He lifts his cell phone. “I’ve already launched a full-on assault on Coop’s voice mail and text messages. That dude’s going to call me back one way or another.” The phone rings in his hand, flashing Cooper’s name on the caller ID. Jack grins. “See? What did I tell you?” Placing the phone on the table, he hits the speaker button. “Yo, where have you been, bro? I’ve left you about a million messages.”
“Yeah. I know. I’ve been busy.” Cooper’s voice is more terse than I’ve ever heard.
“Really? So have we. With a crap-ton of stuff to keep Miss D and us out of jail and break the curse that’s hanging over your soul, but that’s all right. You keep busy with whatever it is you’ve been doing. With Taneea, I assume.”
I hold my breath, hoping he’ll deny it.
Cooper’s silent for a few seconds. Then he clears his throat. “What do you want me to say?”
My stomach pings. Not exactly a denial.
“Say you’ll meet us at your family’s cemetery in a half hour,” Jack says.
“Now?” Cooper asks.
“No, next week. Come on, you of all people know how important this is.”
“But I’ve got plans. Can’t we do it later?”
“You’re joking, right?”
“Fine. I’ll be there.” The line goes dead.
My jaw hangs open. “He didn’t ask about me. Or ask to talk to me. And he’s been with her.”
Jack’s gaze drops to the table. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t understand what�
�s happening.” Is it possible that she really is his type after all?
“It’s got to be the Beaumont Curse. You said so yourself. This is Coop we’re talking about. He’s not normally such a twonk.”
Jack’s right. Cooper’s behavior has been way off the rails. Even if he has lost his mind and decided to be with Taneea, he’s got no reason to ignore me and Jack—his best friends for eight years—especially with all that’s hanging over our heads. The Beaumont Curse may not have stolen his soul yet, but it’s got to be affecting his thinking.
I slide my chair out from the table and rise to my feet. “The only way to know for sure is to break the curse in time and see if he snaps back to normal. But first we’ve got to make sure the mortar and dagger are safe.”
A half hour later, Jack and I are at the Beaumont family cemetery, sitting in the golf cart waiting for Cooper to show up.
We wait.
Then wait some more.
After three hours, Jack’s fuming in the summer heat, hot, hungry, and madder than a rabid raccoon, pacing the kudzu-choked perimeter. If it wasn’t for my sketchbook and pastel pencils and the looming live oaks that cast some fairly decent shade, I’d be right there with him. Instead, propped up against this sturdy tree trunk, I’m doing my best to conserve what little energy I’ve got left and be Zen. It’s not too difficult. Despite the fact we’re in an old cemetery, the setting is pretty perfect for drawing. Plus, the strange and beautiful birds flying over the adjacent salt marsh make great subjects, too.
“Where is he?” Jack kicks a clump of emerald-green brush. His toe catches the corner of a gravestone hidden beneath the foliage. “Ah!” he howls and cradles his foot in his hand. “This is all Cooper’s fault.”
“Right. He made you kick a stationary object.” I blend the final touches of yellow into the pelican’s head then squint at my latest masterpiece.
“Yes, he did,” Jack snaps. “Because he broke his word, again. And because he made me mad enough to kick it in the first place.” He glares.
“You know, we could have rolled the mortar to the crypt in the time we’ve wasted waiting for him.”