Conjure

by Lea Nolan

  We work our way back down the corridor, past the agriculture and weaving exhibits and toward the lobby. The guards have switched positions. Now the nice young guy is on foot patrol, smiling as he passes us in the hall, and Grumpy has taken his stool at the front door. He scowls as we go by, sending a not-so-subtle warning that we’d better behave. Considering we’re here to rob them, that’s out of the question. Instead, I turn my lips up into a non-threatening half-grin and hope it’s enough to throw him off. And I’ve got bigger things to think about. Along with auditing the museum’s surveillance capabilities, I’m totally engrossed in the sensation of Cooper’s strong hand in mine, the curve of his palm, and the rough calluses on the tender side of his fingers that are no doubt the result of heaving miles of sailing rigging. Thank goodness Jack didn’t come in. His glove would definitely have alerted that cranky guard, and there’s no way Jack could have resisted a snide remark about Cooper and me holding hands.

  The music and language exhibits are small and equally unprotected. There’s only one ceiling camera in each to guard the few artifacts and video screens that play on-demand videos of Gullah spirituals and storytelling. Rather than moving on, we hang out to get a sense of how long it takes Smiley to make his rounds. Judging from the clock on my iPod, one loop takes just under ten minutes. And so far, he’s made three, nodding or winking at us each time he passes.

  I’m not sure what takes that long, since it’s a small building and there are hardly any people here, but after three loops, I’m fairly confident that’s the pattern. This might be easier than I thought. Ten minutes should give us more than enough time to take the mortar. That is, if it’s sitting in the next room, waiting for us.

  The African Legacy room is next, the one with the section on Gullah medicine. This is it. With any luck, everything we need to break The Creep should be in the next room.

  “You ready?” I ask.

  Cooper nods and slaps on a brave face. “Yes. You?” He squeezes my hand.

  We step into the African Legacy exhibit. Adrenaline shoots through my veins, making my pulse rush. The room is cordoned into several sections, each showing Africa’s influence on American culture. The area at the back corner, under the Medical Arts banner, seems to glow under the fluorescent lighting. Our pace quickens as we make our way through the exhibit, hoping we might find what we’ve come for, the only way to save Jack.

  I stop short. The entire history of hoodoo medicine is laid out among the many artifacts, photos, and placards. Normally I’d bypass this, find the mortar, and try to get out of here without getting nabbed, but after all my training with Miss Delia, I can’t pull myself away. There are tons of plaster root replicas and fake floral plants and herbs, each with an accompanying description of how it was used in Africa and later in colonial South Carolina as well as how it’s used in pharmaceutical drugs today. Compared to Miss Delia’s enormous spell book, this is only a tiny sliver of what the root doctors who were brought to this country knew. And of course, there’s a section on hoodoo magic, explaining how it’s not a religion like voodoo but a unique melding of Christianity and African spirituality, which, along with root work, is used in spells and rituals to bring good luck or make people fall in love.

  Whoever wrote that doesn’t understand the full power of hoodoo, and isn’t acquainted with The Creep.

  “Emma, we’ve got to move on. That guard’s bound to come back soon.” Cooper pulls my hand. Reluctantly, I step away, but I can’t wait to tell Miss Delia how little this museum knows.

  And then I see it. There, next to the side exit, at the far side of a display of early medical tools and equipment, is a huge stone mortar. It’s nearly two feet tall, and although its outer surface is rough and dark and covered with deep cracks, its insides are smooth and almost slick from ages of near-constant grinding. The mortar’s wide, flat lip contains crude etchings of scrolling, rounded symbols that look African. Just as Miss Delia described, the symbol for harmony, a sun over a crescent, is next to what looks like an upside-down eye, the symbol for the universe.

  Cooper releases my hand and nudges me with his elbow. “That’s it, isn’t it?”

  “It has to be,” I whisper back, sad to lose his hand but grateful for the cool air on my palm. As much as I enjoyed it, that clammy feeling was getting to be kind of gross. “Now we’ve just got to figure out if we can grab it and get out of here.” I wipe my damp hand against my shorts.

  The most obvious obstacle is the Plexiglas barrier that separates us from the artifacts. It shouldn’t be much of a problem, since it’s only three feet tall, and the mortar is within arm’s reach of the railing. We should be able to lean over and grab it as long as Smiley’s in another part of the building. But there could be other pitfalls.

  Glancing around, I check for motion detectors but don’t see any. As far as I can tell, the mortar isn’t bolted down to the pedestal it’s sitting on. This might just work. Hope swells in my chest, and tension drains from my jaw and shoulders.

  A quick scan of the ceiling reveals one surveillance camera at the main entrance, just like the other exhibits, and another at the side emergency exit door beside the medical display. We can easily avoid the front camera, but we’re smack in front of the second. I can’t let one camera stop us, especially with the mortar so close. We’ve come too far, and Jack’s getting worse by the day. Biting my lip, I survey the room, silently asking my spirit guide for help, figuring this is as good a time as any. Who knows, maybe she’ll answer. I just hope I know how to listen.

  Suddenly I realize there’s no red plastic warning sign attached to the push bar on the metal emergency exit door. Is it possible it’s not alarmed? That would make this infinitely easier.

  A plan springs to mind: we’ll grab the mortar, cling close to the wall, and stay behind the camera’s field of view, then bolt out the door and run to the waiting car, praying no one sees us. Granted, Cooper’s not tiny, so it might be difficult to remain unseen, but by the time anyone catches on, we should be long gone.

  Feeling almost confident, I step closer to Cooper. “I’m pretty sure that door doesn’t have an alarm, and I’m thinking we can grab the mortar and run.”

  He nods, seeming more secure than before. He’s not sweating anymore and appears to have control over his jitters. “That’s what I was thinking, but what if the railing has some sort of internal pressure detector or something? I’m going to have to lean against it to get at that thing, and I’d hate to set off some kind of siren. I bet I can outrun that skinny guard, but the old one is kind of scary. You never know what he might do to us.”

  A tiny note of dread pings in my stomach. I hadn’t even considered whether the railing was rigged. That’s why we need each other. I sigh. “You’re right. We’ve got to test it.”

  At that moment, the four kids from before charge into the exhibit, whirling around like little Tasmanian devils, dodging behind display cases, and pretending to blast each other with imaginary finger-guns. They’ve outrun their parents and created their own indoor shooting gallery. And the perfect distraction to test the railing. If we do set off any alarms, we can always blame the wild ones when the security guards come running. Sure, it’s not very nice, but neither are those bratty kids.

  Cooper smiles and waggles his eyebrows, letting me know he’s got the same idea. Pressing his hip lightly into the banister, he waits to see if there’s any reaction. Nothing happens. No bells or high-pitched wails blare through the hall.

  Two of the boys tackle each other and fall into a heap on the ground. They wrestle, rolling on the burnt-orange industrial carpet, and come dangerously close to knocking into one of the displays. The girls are bobbing around the installations, playing laser tag without the lasers. Normally I’d put my babysitting skills to work and intercede in this mess, but this is the best break we’ve gotten all day.

  Cooper leans even harder into the railing, eventually pressing his entire weight against the Plexiglas, and extends his fingers toward the m
ortar. The hellions’ mother and father rush into the exhibit hall, yelling their kids’ names. The mother screams when she sees the boys spinning on the floor, crashing against a glass case of decorative gourds. Their father, the history buff, snatches both boys by the back of their shirts and strains to yank them apart and up off the floor.

  Cooper’s fingers extend, stretching toward our prize. He’s this close to grasping the mortar when both security guards bound into the African Legacy room. Smiley runs right to the kids, doing whatever he can to contain them in his friendly way. Cooper pulls back, away from the mortar, but he’s still leaning into the railing, his arms slightly outstretched.

  “Hey!” Grumpy’s bark booms across the exhibit. “What are you two up to?” If the shivers crawling up the back of my scalp are any indication, his cold glare is boring into us.

  My heart pounds. Panicked, I stare up at Cooper and try to think up a reasonable excuse for the security guard. Before I can think, Cooper’s lips are locked on mine.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  What the heck is he doing? My lids pop, searching his face for some explanation, but his long, soft lashes are sealed. Before I can react, he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me close, leaning in. My heart trips, then takes off at a gallop. Fireworks explode in my brain and body, short-circuiting my senses and shooting tingles over my skin. His bottom lip is soft and yielding, plumper than I ever imagined. Grumpy bellows again, but it hardly registers. My brain is so preoccupied with Cooper’s warm breath and his amazing velvety lip that Grumpy’s words sound mashed and distorted like the teacher in a Snoopy cartoon.

  I’ve dreamed of this for more than a year, imagined where we’d be, what I’d be wearing, how it would happen. This is so not how it went down in my mind. We were supposed to be on the beach, in the moonlight, and I was supposed to be wearing an effortlessly gorgeous sundress, my sandals dangling from my fingers as we walked hand in hand in our bare feet. But I’m in a museum, on the cusp of committing what’s probably a major felony, and I’m pretty sure my deodorant isn’t as fresh as it was before we sat in a roasting car.

  A war wages in my brain over what was supposed to be and what is. One half of me wants to pull away, change the setting, and get a do-over, while the other wants to smack that first half, relax, and enjoy this unexpected but definitely squeal-worthy development. I inhale all that’s Cooper—his crisp, clean cotton shirt, that pine-scented deodorant, even the salty tinge of his skin—and concede the battle as I swoon and my knees sink under his intoxicating spell. His lips part slightly, and the tip of his tongue grazes mine, jolting me with an electric charge. If this is a slice of heaven, I want to die right here.

  Grumpy rushes toward us, bellowing louder as he approaches. “You two, stop! This isn’t some make-out joint!”

  I try to pull myself away and address the advancing threat, but I’m powerless. Finally, just as the mean old guard is about to pounce and physically separate us, Cooper breaks the kiss. Stunned, I stand there like an idiot, waiting for my heart to stop pounding as I blink at Grumpy.

  Cooper clears his throat. “Sorry, sir, we couldn’t help ourselves.”

  Grumpy glares. “I knew you two were up to something. And here I find you hiding in a dark corner, trying to get the jump on each other.” He grabs us by the elbows and guides us to the front of the exhibit area. My feet move on autopilot as my brain tries to sort out what just happened between Cooper and me. Grumpy keeps jabbering. “It makes me sick what you teenagers do today.” He shakes his head. “Babies having babies. Well, not on my watch. Let me tell you something: you want to play house, you do it somewhere else, on your own time. This here’s a respectable place.”

  One of the girls kicks Smiley’s shin, and he loses his grip as she squirms away and runs deeper into the exhibit. The mother gasps, and the father screams his daughter’s name as they take after her, followed closely by Smiley, leaving the other three kids un-chaperoned. Free from their father’s grasp, the boys battle again, and the girl chases after her sister, mother, and father.

  Grumpy has no choice but to give up lecturing us and face the real menace. Granted, we were planning on stealing an artifact, but these little monsters could destroy the place. He grunts and releases our arms. “I’ve got to deal with these here little cretins, but I want you two out of my museum. You got that? I don’t want to see y’all in here again!”

  Cooper and I nod and answer at the same time, “Yes, sir.” The old guard leaves us at the front of the exhibit to give Smiley some much-needed backup.

  Even though we’re supposed to leave, I’m still so dazed, I can’t go farther than the hallway just outside the exhibit. I slump against the wall, shaking my head to regain some clarity.

  Cooper laughs. “That was pretty quick thinking, don’t you think?” He taps his temple. “That old buzzard totally bought it. There’s no way he knows what we were trying to do.” His smile’s a mile wide as he nudges my arm.

  My chest sinks. Of course, it was only a trick. A little ruse to throw off the guard. I should have known. There’s no way Cooper would kiss me for real. That would be too much to hope for. And so is my fantasy about the beach and the moonlight and the stupid sandals.

  The little wishful-thinking voice niggles at the back of my brain, reminding me how well we fit together when we were kissing. Like he was comfortable with me in his arms. Like he actually enjoyed it. But that voice is as dumb as I was a few minutes ago. The kiss was all for show. And now I’m mortified for thinking otherwise. My stomach lurches, and I’m sure I’ll throw up on the industrial-grade carpet. How could I be so incredibly brain dead?

  “Emmaline, it’s all right. He didn’t catch us.” Cooper leans down and gently grasps my arms. “Are you okay?” He strokes my jaw with the back of his hand.

  Jeez, is he trying to kill me? I suddenly realize I’m hyperventilating. If I don’t snap out of it, I’ll faint and end up splayed on the floor. So I shake it off quick, because really, how much more humiliation can I take?

  I nod and will my chest to stop heaving. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little scared, that’s all. That guy was pretty fierce.” Forcing a brave face, I try to sound convincing when I add, “Seriously, that was really smart of you. Faking all that, back there, with the kissing thing.” I jab my thumb toward the exhibit and state the obvious as if he might have forgotten what happened. “Maybe you should give up sailing and join the drama club or something, because you’re an awesome actor.” I purse my lips to keep them from trembling. Excellent way to play it cool, Emma.

  The guards have finally corralled the kids and their inept parents. Saving me from Cooper’s reaction to my “compliment,” the entire pack approaches on its way to the front entrance. Panicked, I search for a place to hide. The hallway is bare, but the women’s room is just steps away. I grab Cooper’s arm, drag him through the bathroom door, and run right for the roomy handicapped stall.

  Cooper’s eyes fill with panic as I latch the door behind us. “What if that guy finds us in here? He’ll kill us.”

  I shake my head. “He won’t come in. Judging from his sermon back there, he is obviously too prim and proper to come into the women’s room, much less break down a stall door. We’re safe.”

  “Okay, I’m confused. What are we going to do?” Cooper shrugs. “Are we staying in here all day? Because that guy wanted us out of here by now.”

  I set my hands on my hips. “I’m not leaving without that mortar. It’s right there. We’ve got to take it.”

  He scratches his head. “But as soon as we step out of this room, he’ll catch us and toss us out. Next time we won’t have another bunch of brats to hide behind.”

  I sigh and clunk my head against the cold yellow tile wall. We need a plan.

  Then I remember Miss Delia’s Semi-Invisibility Powder and Law Keep Away potion. Duh. They’ve been hanging around my neck, tucked under my peasant blouse the whole time. How could I have forgotten them? I notice Cooper’s not wearing
his.

  “Where are those gris-gris bags I gave you when we left Miss Delia’s?” I tug my own out from under my shirt.

  “They’re in my pocket. Why?” He pulls them out of his khaki shorts.

  “Because they might be just what we need. See this one?” I slip the white pouch filled with crushed sea spirit seaweed off my neck. “It’s supposed to make us semi-invisible.” He hitches his brow in disbelief, but I wave it off. “Okay, I realize it sounds crazy, but based on everything we’ve already seen, I don’t think we’re in the position to doubt Miss Delia. I mean, if Jack can walk around with a bony hand that still moves, then I’m pretty sure anything’s possible.”

  Cooper nods, but his crinkled forehead tells me he’s not entirely convinced. “Okay, how’s it supposed to work, because judging from before, it didn’t. There’s no way we were semi-invisible to that guard. He gave us the hairy eyeball the first time he laid eyes on us.”

  I open the pouch and dump some in my hand. A few grains spill onto the stall floor. “Miss Delia said you have to walk real slow and drop the powder as you go.”

  He stares at me for a second. “Uh-huh. And what are the other bags for? X-ray vision and shooting spiderwebs from our wrists?”

  I frown, disappointment with his unusual Jack-like response squeezing my stomach, and shake my head. “No, the yellow one is for courage and bravery, and the blue one is for keeping the law away.”

  Cooper snorts. “Right, because it worked so well with those guards.”

  Maybe I’m still mad about the fake kiss, but his pessimism is really getting to me. Okay, there’s nothing maybe about it. A burst of stress, fear, and anger explodes in my brain. I set my hands on my hips and cock my head. “Listen, it’s the best we’ve got. Either we stay locked in this stall forever, or we give it a try. So unless you’ve got a better idea, decide which it’s going to be.”