Cooper carries me around the back of the house, through the veranda and main hall, then up the stairs. Jack is right behind him.
Taneea’s standing in the second floor hall, her arms crossed over her chest. “What is going on? Why did you run out of here? And why are you with her?”
Cooper halts on the top landing. “Uh, Emma’s hurt. She needs to wash off. You don’t mind, do you?”
She pinches her nose. “Ugh. What is that stink?” Her disapproving gaze travels over my body and the thick black sludge that’s spattered across my legs and skirt. “I’m going home. I can’t be around something so nasty.”
I couldn’t agree more. In fact, go away and never, ever come back.
Cooper’s brow creases with concern. “Give me a second and I’ll walk you out. You shouldn’t go out there by yourself.”
She shakes her head. “That’s okay. I’m fine. Besides, you’ve got whatever that stuff is on you now, so actually, I’d prefer if you kept your distance.”
His face turns down with disappointment. “Okay,” He turns to Jack, who’s on the stairs below us. “Make sure she makes it to her truck, all right?”
Jack nods. “Sure. Now get Emma into the shower before that stuff burns her any worse, okay?”
Cooper nods and steps toward Taneea, leaning in for a kiss.
Screwing up her face, she throws up her hand and jerks away. “Um. Gross.” Then zips past us and dashes down the stairs.
Cooper’s cool, gray-white eyes fill with so much sadness, I almost feel sorry for him. But then my compassion slips like water down a drain. If he has chosen Taneea over me, I hope her snotty attitude hurts because it might be the first step to seeing how truly rotten she is.
He glances down at me and seems to remember why I’m in his arms. Sprinting to the hall bathroom, he places me gently in the tub. The shocking jolts mercifully stop as Cooper pulls down the shower wand and turns on the water. It runs frigid at first, but it feels good against my inflamed skin. He sprays the water all over my skirt and legs, rinsing the nasty black gunk off my clothes and down the drain. When the worst of the sludge is gone, he hands me the wand, a bottle of shampoo, and a washcloth.
“You finish up and I’ll get you some clean stuff to wear, okay?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
He pulls the shower curtain to give me privacy, then darts out of the room. By the time I’m through with the shower, I find a fresh T-shirt and drawstring shorts and two towels on the counter.
It takes longer than normal to dry myself and get dressed. When I flip my hair to wrap it in a towel, my head thumps. I clutch the side of the wall for support as I inch my way out of the bathroom. I should probably ask Jack to take me home to bed but the boo hag’s presence has added a bizarre new wrinkle. We’ve got a lot to figure out first.
I make it to the doorway of Cooper’s room. Jack’s perched on the desk while Cooper’s slouched on his bed, already showered and changed into another of his new fashion statements, an airbrushed T-shirt, black pants, and his fugly orange sneakers. I don’t have the energy to look at the Day-Glo footwear, much less comment on them. But I do notice the bizarre dog chain around his neck. And the rumpled covers on his bed. The image of his hands wrapped around her back flashes across my mind, followed by the kiss she planted next to his lips.
“How ya doing?” Jack asks.
I lean against the doorjamb for support. “To be honest, I’ve been better.”
“That black stuff,” Jack says, his brow creased with heavy thought. “We’ve seen it before, right? After Missy died? And on the knife?”
I nod. “By the time we saw it, it was almost dry and much thicker, but yeah, I think it was the same stuff.”
“So Missy didn’t die of natural causes. The boo hag must have done it.” Cooper’s voice is somber.
“Right. And now it wants you,” I answer.
“But why?”
“I don’t know for sure. We’ll need to ask Miss Delia about it, if she ever calls. But maybe it makes some strange kind of sense.” Gazing at his still-icy eyes and fashion choices, I rub my aching temple and search for a way to explain without provoking him. “I came over tonight because even though we destroyed the Beaumont ruby, there are a couple things that make me worry you’re not in the clear. Maybe the boo hag’s got something to do with that.”
Cooper looks at his window, which is now closed and locked. “I know stuff hasn’t been great between us lately, but can you guys sleep over? My dad went to Charleston to get ready for an early morning meeting. I don’t want to be alone.”
Jack smirks. “Then why did you let Taneea leave? Maybe she could have protected you.”
Cooper’s nostrils flare. “You can say what you like about me, but I won’t let you talk about Taneea like that.”
“Oh really? Well, I’m sick of you dumping us when it’s convenient but then relying on us when your sorry butt is on the line. And not for nothing, but dude, you had Emma, and you chose Taneea instead. What’s that about?”
“Don’t talk about my girlfriend!” Cooper launches off the bed and hurls himself against Jack, who splays against the desktop, scattering the alarm clock, pencil cup, and other items to the floor.
Anxious to steer clear of their tussle, I step away from the door, into the hall. I’d like to avoid another thrashing if I can help it.
Jack and Cooper battle as fists fly and punches land. I’ve got to admit Cooper’s right. Jack is strong, but more important, he’s scrappy. And like a honey badger at a beehive, he doesn’t give up. Jack manages to squirm out from under him and dash across the room. Cooper gives chase, but just as he’s about to make contact, Jack darts to the side. Cooper crashes against his bed, shifting the mattress off the box spring.
Something thunks against the wall, then crashes to the floor.
My ears prick, but for all I know that could be another symptom of my epic headache and still-twisted memories. But the stinging intensifies, so I lean into the room. “What was that?”
They stop short.
“It sounded like something just broke.” I point toward the wall.
Heaving for breath, Jack launches on top of the displaced mattress and peeks his head between the bed and the wall. “Is there something you want to tell us, Coop? When did you start playing with dolls?”
Cooper frowns. “What are you talking about?”
Jack reaches his hand down. “See for yourself.” He retrieves a palm-sized, antique, ceramic kewpie doll that’s fractured in two pieces. A tuft of Spanish moss sticks out of the crack that splits its stomach. Jack thrusts it in Cooper’s direction.
I gasp as goose bumps rush over my body. “Don’t let him touch it! Give it to me right now.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
Jack jumps off the bed and runs across the room to hand me the broken kewpie doll. My heart races as I slide down the wall and sit on the floor in the hallway. Though the chubby little doll has a happy, cherubic face, there’s definitely something scary, even demonic, about its enormous, offset painted eyes. I’ve never seen one of these in person before, but I’ve read about them in Miss Delia’s spell book. This one gives me the creeps. Things are beginning to make sense.
Jack plants himself next to me.
Cooper hovers in the doorframe. “That’s not mine.”
“I’m sure it isn’t. But someone created it for you,” I answer.
“Huh?” He steps into the hall and kneels across from me and Jack.
“What is it?” Jack asks.
“A doll baby. Some people also call them poppets. Either way, they’re used in coercive spells. Depending on what you put in them, you can pretty much make anyone do anything you want.”