From the corner of her eye, Taneea glances toward the window.
I freeze, wondering if somehow I shrieked but didn’t hear my own voice. I don’t think so, but at this point, anything’s possible. Holding my breath, I squelch my tears, and swallow the acidic taste that’s working its way up the back of my throat.
Cupping his face in her palms, she leans into his ear and whispers something, then straightens and squares her shoulders. He grabs her hand and smiles, tugging her back toward him. Giggling, she pulls herself free and saunters toward the window, her brow hitched and a wicked grin on her lips. Cooper’s mother’s locket hangs around her neck.
I tell myself there’s a chance she doesn’t realize I’m here. Maybe she just interrupted a make-out session to come look at the moon. It could happen.
Except a second later, we come face-to-face, separated only by a thin sheet of glass and the ten feet between the magnolia and the Big House. Staring me down, she winks, then pulls the cord on the blinds, dropping them the full length of the pane. The slats are still open, providing me a view to the room. But a second later, she yanks the other cord and seals them shut.
Oh yeah, she’s seen me. Perched in a tree, being a giant, creepy, Peeping Tom stalker.
My brain spins as a thousand thoughts converge at once, imagining what’s going on in there behind those blinds. No, I can’t go there. Blocking the torturous images, my mind shifts to an even more painful thought: Maybe Cooper isn’t under a spell. Maybe he truly does care for her. Maybe I lost him fair and square.
A big, wailing sob works its way up my throat. My bottom lip trembles. Just as I’m about to drop my head and give in to my pity party, the persistent crow flies back into the magnolia. This time, rather than keeping its distance, it aims right for me, alighting on a bough just above my head. I jerk back and shoo it with my right hand again. But rather than taking flight, the crazy bird advances and pecks at my fingers. Ducking away, I swing toward my left to avoid its attack. The crow persists, this time striking my left arm with its beak. Frantic, I release my grip in the trunk and try to scamper down the tree, but descending is harder and slower than the initial climb, especially with a rabid bird on the loose and flip-flops on my feet. Weaving to avoid the bird’s sharp bill, I reach for a branch with one hand at the same moment I’ve released the other, just as my flip-flop slips against the smooth bark.
Untethered, I bow to gravity’s command, crashing against hard limbs and fragrant magnolia flowers.
A gust of wind rushes from my lungs as my back slams against the hard ground, followed by the smack of my head.
Everything goes black.
Chapter Twenty-six
My head throbs with pain and my shoulders ache as if they’ve been whacked by a two-by-four. Swallowing hard, I coax my eyes open, then attempt to focus on the pink dots circling above my head. My vision stops spinning long enough to realize the dancing pink spots are magnolia flowers. Attached to branches. The silver moon hangs in the sky overhead. I reach out my fingers and touch hard, cool soil and fuzzy, green moss.
Why am I on the ground?
Oh my gosh. I fell out of the tree. I extend a shaky hand to explore my screaming head. Inching my fingers around my scalp, I don’t sense any cuts or blood. Just a nasty lump on the back of my skull. I’m lucky. I think. Though someone should probably tell my back that.
Squish, suck. Squish, suck. Squish, suck.
The strange sound comes from just outside my peripheral view. It kind of reminds me of the time Jack I and walked home in the pouring rain in our drenched sneakers. Each mushy step sounded like a disgusting bodily function that cracked Jack up.
Craning my neck, I squint toward the wet, pulpy sound.
My heart skips and I draw a quick inhale that burns my smarting ribs.
A long, thin, red-skinned creature with lankly limbs is scaling the exterior wall beneath Cooper’s window. It’s headed right for him.
I blink to make sure I’m not imagining things. Nope, it’s real.
The glistening scarlet creature grips the white paneling with the three suction-cup-like fingers on each of its hands, squelching with each step it takes.
Goose bumps rush over my battered body and a scream leaps from my mouth.
The thing whips its face toward me, glaring its bulbous, crimson eyes—if that’s what they are—and hisses. Turning away, it continues its ascent up the brick wall.
I don’t know what it is, but I know it shouldn’t be there. Adrenaline throws my heart into overdrive, giving me the strength to heave onto my side and try to find a way to stop it. Wincing, I stretch my hand and fumble in the dim light, searching for something to throw. Gripping a handful of hardwood bark, I pull back my throbbing arm and lob.
Most of the hardwood chips miss their target. Only a few pieces graze the creature’s feet.
Undeterred, it continues its climb.
Frantic, I suck up the pain and crawl on my hands and knees, searching for something more substantial. Scraping the ground with my nails, I unearth a handful of dirt and tiny rocks. Heaving for breath, I scramble to my knees and launch the dirt bomb. It lands just where I’d hoped, spraying the creature’s back.
It swings its slender, hairless head in my direction. Hissing again, this time it spews a mouthful of slimy, viscous spit. I pull back but not quick enough to miss the incoming assault. The monster’s slobber splats squarely on my stomach, sliming my peasant shirt. I shriek and instinctively reach for my midsection, planting my hand in the goop. It’s hot and sludgy and reeks of rotting garbage and week-old decomposition. Wiping the muck on a tuft of grass, a sudden realization hits me. This is the same stinky stuff I saw on Cooper’s window a couple weeks ago. There’s a reason it doesn’t care about me, my mulch chips, or pebbles. It wants Cooper and will stop at nothing to get him.
“Cooper!” I scream, splitting my headache even further, hoping it’ll be enough to warn him.
The creature continues to suction cup its way up the wall making that revolting, sloshy sound. Panicked, I search for anything substantial I can throw at the hideous monster. Finally, I spy a nice round rock. Still on my knees, I clamber toward it, yank it from the earth, and hurl it at the back of the monster’s head.
It lands with a satisfying thunk.
Which is a giant mistake because the creature launches itself off the wall, landing in front of me in one smooth leap.
I shriek, rattling my eardrums.
“Shut up!” it hisses as it advances toward me. With its long, lanky body and slender rectangular head, it almost looks like a giant stick bug wrapped in inverted human flesh. Its putrid stench, like some kind of trash and manure-propelled tear gas, burns my throat and causes my eyes to water.
I should run, bolt out of here as fast as my pummeled body will take me, but my knees are frozen as if I’m literally planted in the soil. All I can do is stare up at the creature’s red, mushy flesh that shines like raw meat.
“Get away!” I force the words from my constricted throat. “Leave us alone.”
“Ha, ha, ha!” It laughs, sounding like it’s choking on curled cottage cheese. “Silly girl. This is my destiny,” it lisps, and then reaches its gangly arms toward me, extending its horrible three-fingered hands. I gawk at the meaty suction cups at their tips.
“Help!” I call, not sure to who since it’s clear Cooper is indisposed. And I came here alone without so much as leaving a note in my room. How stupid could I be?