“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.”