by Lea Nolan
Her eyes slide open, and she nods. “Maybe. It depends on whether we try to break the curse again.” Her voice is weak. I don’t think she’ll be able to talk much longer.
My brow knits, and anger bubbles in my stomach. So this is some kind of supernatural ultimatum: give up trying to reverse The Creep, or it’ll take Miss Delia. It’s an impossible choice. There’s no way I’m abandoning Jack, and I don’t want to lose Miss Delia, especially to something as nasty as that electric-eyed creature. Neither option is acceptable. I’ll have to find a way to help them both.
I set my jaw.
Cooper must read my thoughts because he places his hand on Miss Delia’s shoulder. “It’s not safe for you to stay here. Is there somewhere we can take you?”
“I’m not leaving,” she whispers, not even trying to open her eyes. “I just need another collier.” After a long pause she continues. “It’ll protect me.”
I glance at her bare, wrinkled neck, and remember she used her necklace for my pot de tête. Is that why I’m okay and she’s not? A chill runs up my spine, and I reach up to stroke the smooth glass beads hanging around my neck. I’m embarrassed for doubting their power earlier. Clearly she needs them more than I do. I pull the strand off my head. “Here, Miss Delia, you can have mine.”
She shakes her tired head. “No, child. Keep it. The curse knows about you now, so you’ll need its protection. I’ll make my own when I wake up.”
I doubt she’ll last that long. She needs a collier now. I pull the necklace back on and push off the floor, sprinting for the kitchen. “I’ll be right back.”
Using my own necklace as a model, I use the beads and elastic cording still lying on the counter to string together a new collier for Miss Delia. Then I remember how she blessed the upside-down candle earlier and figure I should do the same with the necklace. Unsure if the uncrossing oil is the right thing to use, I flip through her spell book for something better. Recalling her rule about not mixing different kinds of magic, I scan the white magic section, sure it’s the only way to protect her from that psycho dog.
The entry for Four Thieves Vinegar looks good. The description says it’s supposed to offer personal protection from disease and magical attack and can be sprinkled on stuff and even taken by mouth. We’ve got a winner. I search her shelves, examining each vial until I find it, unstopping the top and taking a sniff. Whew, the garlic, pepper, and minty scents instantly clear my sinuses. I sprinkle a little on the new necklace, then grab the bottle and a teaspoon and run back to the living room. Cooper moves over to give me some space.
Crouching next to the now-sleeping Miss Delia, I arrange the necklace over her head and pull it down past her snowy hair to rest on her neck. Then I pour some of the vinegar mixture on the spoon and bring it to her lips. “Miss Delia,” I say softly in a singsong-y voice to rouse her, “I’ve got some medicine for you.”
Her lips part slightly, and I tip the spoon, drizzling some of the mixture into her mouth. She swallows and stirs a little, just enough to open her eyes and grip my wrist. “Four Thieves,” she whispers. “Good girl.” Her lips turn up in a faint half-smile.
Relief floods through me. I’m not sure what I’m happier about—that she’ll probably be okay, or that I didn’t kill her myself with that concoction. Plus since she seems to be responding, I don’t need to call an ambulance, after all. I sigh, feeling the stress slip off my shoulders. “Is there anything else we can do?”
She tightens her hold on my hand. “Find the mortar. We can’t break the curse without it.”
Oh, my gosh, it’s bad enough the dog-monster sapped her strength, but is it possible it took her memory, too? I lean close. “The mortar is in the kitchen, Miss Delia. On the counter, remember? I used it to crush all the leaves and roots before we worked the spell.” I’m speaking loud and slow as if she might also be deaf now, too.
Even though she’s practically still at death’s door, she looks at me like I’m a moron. “No, not that mortar.” She shakes her head and clears her throat. “My gran’s mortar, handed down by all my great-grans. It’s old magic, and the only way to call the ancestors. We need their help.”
That’s a relief. At least she’s still mentally with it. Although I think she just said we need to contact a bunch of dead people.
Cooper leans in close. “Where is it? We can get it right away.”
Her lids droop again as she shakes her head. “I don’t know.”
Cooper juts out his square jaw, begging for my help in prodding her.
“Think hard, Miss Delia. Where did you put it?”
She grips my wrist. “The missionaries stole it when I was a girl. I haven’t seen it in more than eighty years.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Cooper and I race down Miss Delia’s driveway to his car. The path is clear and quiet, and we slip into the car in one piece. But as thrilled as I am to be on my way home, dread wells in my throat.
What are we going to tell Jack? We didn’t reverse the curse, but we can’t even try again until we find something that’s been missing for more than eighty years. God knows how long that’s going to take, or if the magic mortar still even exists. And if by some miracle we do find it, how will we get it from its current owners? And what about the devil dog?
Jack’s situation doesn’t look good.
When we arrive, Jack is sitting on the front porch steps, waiting for us. I blink to make sure I’m not seeing things. He’s smiling. No, that’s not right. He’s beaming.
That’s…unexpected. The last time I saw him, he was miserable and convinced he was about to die.
“Hey!” He waves. His decaying hand is covered by one of Dad’s work gloves, and he’s plastered with dirt.
Cooper and I exchange looks, and he shuts his car door. “Hey, bro. It’s nice to see you up and about.” He strolls to the porch and sits down on the steps next to Jack. Speaking softly, as if he doesn’t want to agitate Jack, Cooper asks, “How’re you doing? We were real worried about you.”
“I’m all right.” Jack swats his gloved hand in the air and giggles as if the trauma of the last few days never happened. That’s right, he actually giggles.
Have I stepped into a parallel dimension? The guy wouldn’t come out of his room for a day because his hand is disintegrating, but now he’s “all right”? And when was the last time he giggled?
A chill runs up my spine. Is it possible the Break Jinx charm took hold before the beast showed up? But Miss Delia seemed convinced we’d failed. I try to steal a peek, but there’s no way to tell with the glove on his hand.
Suppressing all hope, I bite my nail and search for a polite way to ask if he’s still falling apart. “Um, Jack, did something happen to your hand while we were gone?”
“Yeah,” he answers with a nod. The grin is still plastered across his face.
Joy surges through me. Cooper’s eyes light up. Maybe we did it. Maybe all it took to defeat The Creep was to toss a few crushed herbs and a piece of hair over a fire. And even better, now I don’t have to give Jack all that bad news.
I lurch forward, filled with excitement. “So what happened? Is it better?” My voice raises at least an octave as I resist the urge to yank off the glove.
“See for yourself.” He lifts his hand and tugs at the glove, but it sticks on the puffy heel of his hand. He pulls a few more times, and it finally slides off, revealing his bloated and now-scarlet palm and thumb, and four ivory bones. That bizarre smile is still in place.
My stomach sinks. I stare at his ruined hand, simultaneously transfixed and freaked by his odd expression. It’s not better. If anything, it’s worse. Way worse. Judging by the swelling, that skin probably doesn’t have more than a day before it explodes and burns off. So why is he so happy? I catch a whiff of something fetid, sort of like a pond filled with decaying plants.
The smell of death. I take a giant step back.
Cooper gags and turns away, managing not to hurl.
Jack pats him on
the back with his good hand. “It’s all right, Coop. I know it stinks.” He breaks into full-throated laughter.
Um, Earth to Jack. I set my hands on my hips. “What the heck is going on? This morning you thought you were going to die, but now you’re Mr. Excited? And you’re okay with that stench? I don’t get it.”
He straightens his spine and flashes a serene grin. “I know I’m not going to die, at least not from this—” He lifts his half-distended, half-bony hand. “—so there’s no reason to get all bent.”
He’s happy because he’s not going to die? Does he really have that much confidence in Miss Delia and me? For real? I’m touched. I had no idea my pep talk this morning was that persuasive.
But there’s no way we can live up to his expectations. Even before these new developments, Miss Delia said it wouldn’t be easy to break the curse, but now I know it’ll be dangerous, maybe even impossible. I force a deep breath in my constricted chest. “Jack, I’m glad our talk this morning helped, but—”
He scoffs. “What? It wasn’t you. It was Maggie.”
Oh, her. I should have known. She’s the only one who can make him that delirious. Or despondent when she takes off to find her grandmother.
Finally over his queasiness, Cooper spins around toward Jack. “You saw Maggie?” He tries to be discreet as he covers his nose with his hand to escape Jack’s smell.
Jack sighs and gets that dreamy expression again. “Yeah…she’s so great.”
My eyebrows knit as I stare at my brother and try to make sense of his erratic mood swings. He’s gone from ecstasy to snapping at me and back again in about two seconds flat. It’s weird. It’s obvious Maggie makes him happy, but I’ve never seen him pine over anyone like this before, not even his ex-girlfriend Katie, who he practically drooled over. I set my hand on my hip. “Wait, I didn’t think she knew where we live.”
“I brought her here, and she made us lunch. It was awesome.” He rubs his stomach.
Cooper’s brow crinkles. “Where’d you find her?”
“After you two left this morning, I got to thinking about that treasure being out in the open. I know you said you put the lid back on the chest, and no one but us would probably go down there, but I just didn’t feel right about it.” Jack turns to Cooper. “I mean, what if your dad decided to check up on us and ended up opening that box?”
Um, I understand Jack’s concern, but for the record, I’m not sure Beau could actually make it down to the tabby ruins without a forklift. I wonder if Cooper’s thinking the same thing because for a split second, I’m sure he smirks. But it must be my imagination, because a moment later, he mashes his lips into a straight line, and his eyes drop to his feet.
Jack doesn’t seem to notice and continues. “It wouldn’t be hard for him to find. And if he got to the treasure inside…” He focuses on his hand and scowls as he clenches his bony fist. “Well, let’s just say I didn’t want to take that chance. This can’t happen to anyone else.” He scuffs his flip-flop against the porch step.
After a long, painfully quiet pause, I have to ask, “So what’d you do? And how does Maggie fit in all this?”
Jack’s head snaps up. “Oh, I took a shovel down there and filled the holes. All of them. It looks just like it did before we started.”
So that explains why he’s so dirty. And why he was wearing Dad’s glove. I can’t blame him. It would be pretty gross to get dirt on that hand.
Cooper prods. “And Maggie?”
“She met me there. I guess she was walking on the beach and must have heard me shoveling.” Squinting, Jack scratches the side of his head and stares off to the right, as if he’s trying to remember how everything happened, but after another long pause shakes his head and gives up. “Anyway, she kept me company, and then we came back here after I was done.” He gets that faraway look in his eyes again. “Man, she made the best sandwiches. And she mixed up some punch for us, too. She was right—it really did make me feel better.”
Cooper laughs, but it sounds strangled because he’s still avoiding Jack’s odor. “Well, that explains a lot. What’d she put in it, rum?” He elbows Jack in the side.
Jack shrugs. “How am I supposed to know what she used? She was feeding me. I wasn’t going to interrogate her. Anyway, she said I’m definitely going to be fine, because Miss Delia is a hoodoo ninja master who’ll blow this curse away. I wasn’t sure I agreed at first, but Maggie knows what she’s talking about, and she can be kind of persuasive.” He turns to Cooper and winks. “If you know what I mean.”
Cooper chuckles.
I huff and kick at a clump of grass, my mind chewing on Jack’s words. What exactly went on here today? She’s gorgeous, so I get why he’d want to be with her, but what’s in it for her, especially with that nasty, smelly hand of his? I try to let it go, telling myself it’s none of my business, but I just can’t. “Did she see your hand?”
Jack’s lip curls. “Yeah. Why?”
“Just wondering whether it bothered her, that’s all.” I shrug and motion toward Cooper. “I mean, it grosses us out, but we love you, so we’re not going to turn our backs on you. But she’s only just met you.”
Jack sighs. “Wow. You’re so jealous, it’s sad. I should pity you because you don’t know what real love is.” He hitches his brow and tosses a quick sideways glance at Cooper. “But I’m not going to waste my energy because Maggie and I have too much to look forward to.”
I gasp. “What the—” I should tear him a new one, but I stop myself before I reveal too much about my true feelings for Cooper. How could Jack go there, especially when he knows—even though I haven’t admitted it—how much I like Cooper? Jack doesn’t need twin sense to know how mortified I’d be if Cooper found out. My hands ball into fists so tight, my short nails dig into my palms. Creep or no Creep, I’m about to pound him in his face.
Cooper sits up straight, squaring his chest. “Hey, bro, I’m glad you’re happy with Maggie, but you’ve got no call to talk to Emma like that.” His brow creases with anger.
My heart leaps. I didn’t think I could love him any more. I was wrong.
Jack shrugs. “Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it. I only meant that Maggie promised everything would work out, and I believe her because she hasn’t steered me wrong yet.”
He’s full of crap, but Cooper’s intervention has helped quell my rage, so I unfurl my fists and decide to let it slide. This time.
Dad’s truck rumbles up the driveway. Jack shoves his hand into the glove as Dad parks in the gravel at the side of the house. Dad gives us a tired wave before he steps out of the cab. Here under the bright summer light, he seems older than usual. Last year he had a full head of thick jet-black hair, but now it’s thinning at the crown, and his temples are streaked with gray. He works too hard. A quiet desk job would be much less of a strain, but he feels indebted to Beau because they were best friends when they were kids, kind of like how we are with Cooper, and because Beau took him in when Mom and he split. Since Beau can never find anyone else to work at High Point Bluff, Dad will never abandon him.
“Hey, y’all.” Dad’s eyes are droopy as he rubs the back of his neck. He stops short when he sees Jack’s filthy clothes. “Now what do we have here? Is it too much to hope you did a little landscaping for me up at the Big House?” His expression is deadpan, so it’s hard to know if he’s serious or not.
Jack freezes. “Uh, no, I was out at the tabby ruins again. Did you want me to do something?” He looks at his gloved hand and swallows hard. “Because we’d be happy to do whatever chores you need.”
Dad laughs. “Are you kidding? You two would tear up those rose beds, and I’d get stuck replanting a whole new row. I’ve got enough trouble on my hands building Missy’s silly free-range chicken coop.” He looks at Cooper. “No offense, son. I didn’t mean to disparage your stepmother’s coop.”
Cooper scoffs and waves him off. “No problem, Uncle Jed. I didn’t know she had you working on a new project.”
“No,” Jack and I snap in unison. It’s not really a lie, but I tuck my fingers behind my back and cross them anyway.
Dad eyes Cooper. “You sure you didn’t hit anything with the car? Maybe a skunk?”
Cooper shakes his head. “No, Uncle Jed. I promise I haven’t hit anything.”
Dad sniffs again. “Maybe I’m just tired, but something stinks. You ought to have that car washed anyway, just in case.” Dad’s cell phone rings. “Hello? Oh, hi, Missy.” He shuts his eyes and shakes his head as he listens to her. About a minute later, she finally stops talking. “I understand, but I’m not sure it’s the best idea. We can talk about it in the morning.”
She goes off on him, yelling loud enough that I can hear her squeaky voice from several feet away. She says something about being the mistress and getting what she wants. Then Beau’s voice comes on the line. Dad nods his head as he listens. “Yes, Beau… I understand… But we’ve already framed in two big picture windows and some smaller ones on the sides. Adding skylights is liable to turn it into a greenhouse. Those chickens will roast… Yes, of course you’re right… I will… All right. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He snaps his phone shut and heads back down the steps, his shoulders slumped.
I hate to see him treated this way. And that he seems so willing to take it. “Where are you going?” I ask.