“Emma! Let me in!” He twists the knob.
“No. You need to trust me on this. You’ve been allured. You can’t see things for how they really are.”
“No! You need to trust me. You think you know everything and have all the answers but you don’t know squat. What Taneea and I have is pure. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I won’t let you destroy that paper. I can’t live without her.” His voice is frantic as he pounds on the door.
I lay the flannel poppet in the dry sink faceup and then spread open the naming paper, making sure the two strands of hair lay across the top.
The red and black writing stares up at me, an ugly indictment of how far Taneea will go to get what she wants.
Love me or die. That’s it, isn’t it? Cooper will literally die if he doesn’t love her. I don’t know where Taneea found such a sick, monstrous charm or why she thought it would be okay to hex someone like this or if she even realized the danger she put Cooper in. But I’m going to see that she never gets to do it again. I don’t care if it’s my last act of hoodoo, but I will right this wrong.
“Open this door, or I’ll open it for you!” Cooper’s voice booms with feral intensity. He crashes against the solid mahogany with what has to be his shoulder.
Where is Jack and what is taking him so long?
“You’d better stop. You’re going to split the wood or rip it off its hinges. And then you’re dad’s going to be pissed because you know it’s impossible to replace these antique doors.”
“I don’t give a crap about my father or his dumb hinges. I’ll rip this whole house apart to get what you and Jack stole from me.”
Cripes, he really is around the bend. There’s no way normal Cooper would ever express this much disrespect for his family’s homestead.
Finally I hear Jack’s voice. “I’m coming, Em!”
“I’m going to tear your head off,” Cooper snarls.
Jack sighs. “Okay, but do it neatly. Otherwise it’ll make a huge mess.”
Evidentially, Cooper isn’t amused because the next thing I hear is the two of them crash to the ground.
On my hands and knees, I peer through the space at the bottom of the door. From my limited vantage point, I can tell Cooper’s got Jack splayed on his stomach. But what Cooper doesn’t realize is that’s exactly what Jack wants. Jack’s head swivels toward me, his cheek smushed against the carpet runner. Our eyes meet. He slides his palm toward the door. The matchbook is just below his fingers.
While nudging the matches into the crack between the tile floor and the door, he forces a few words. “This better work. Otherwise I’m toast.”
A surge of adrenaline pulses through me, tapping the last of my reserve strength. As the guys wrestle and kick the door, I clamber to the sink. Leaning against the counter, I open the pack, pull off a match, and strike it against the thin dark strip at the back, then toss the kindled match on the hair and naming paper. The enchanted items burst into flame as if doused with kerosene and engulf the poppet. Black smoke rises as the cursed items burn like an inferno.
I flick on the bathroom exhaust fan and watch as the hateful fumes rise to the ceiling and then out of the house.
The guys’ shouts quiet. So does the kicking.
The last remnants of the charred paper and poppet crumble in the sink. There’s nothing left but sooty, black ashes that have been sucked of their fuel.
An eerie stillness expands on the other side of the door.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I turn on the faucet and rinse the last of the allurement spell down the sink. Then I loosen the hamper, shove it aside, and twist the knob to unlock it.
Gripping the jamb, I open the door to find a seated Cooper propped against the wall, his head collapsed in his hands.
Jack’s sitting opposite him, his arms crossed and a wide grin on his face. “Cooper’s back. Or at least he will be soon.”
Cooper lifts his head. His face is a mixture of agony, confusion, and betrayal. But his eyes are a sight to behold. They’re tinged with just the faintest swirl of green. He rubs his forehead. “What happened? I remember…but I also don’t. Things got weird there for a second, didn’t they?”
I exhale the breath I’ve been holding since I opened the door. “For longer than a second. Ever since Missy died.” I step out of the doorway and cross to the other side of the hall next to Jack. Though I don’t try to sit down because with the way I’m feeling right now, there’s a very good chance I won’t be able to get back up. Instead I grip the railing overlooking the grand staircase with two hands, praying I won’t keel over.
Jack nods. “Taneea made you her pet.” When Cooper’s brow furrows, Jack points to his chest. “For real. Look at the thing around your neck.”
Cooper looks down. His lips curl in disgust. “It’s a dog collar. I think we bought it in a shop in Charleston. I remember thinking I didn’t want it, but I guess I changed my mind.” He glances down at his silk-screened tee with the motorcycle print and then squints at his long jean shorts, and flat-out gawks at the orange high-tops. “What am I wearing?” He kicks off the shoes and pushes them away.
Jack snorts. “Your new wardrobe. She made you pretty.” He wiggles his fingers and contorts his voice to sound like Igor in a Frankenstein movie. “You’ve got another pair too. Lime green.” He erupts in peals of laughter.
Cooper pinches the bridge of his nose. “Uh. She made me blow my summer allowance on this crap. I don’t think I’ve got any money left,” he moans, as his memories appear to be flooding back.
“She made you lose a lot of things.” The words fly from my mouth before I can stop them. Harsh, but true. Aside from messing with his memory and stripping him of his dignity, she also drove a wedge between all three of us. And Cooper and me. My mind knows he was allured, but my heart still remembers the pain of being dumped, even if he didn’t do it on purpose.
He pushes off the floor and crosses the hall to stand in front of me. His eyes meet mine. They’re a pale sea-green foam now, definitely on their way back to normal. His skin is pinker, too, as if he’s coming back to life. “But I didn’t lose you, did I, Emmaline?” Grasping my hand, he entwines my fingers with his. There’s no shocking pain accompanied by his touch. Proof he’s been cured. He searches my gaze.
I’ve longed for this moment. Yet now that it’s here, I can’t fully embrace it. But it’s been a rough night and there’s a definite possibility that after falling from the tree and my encounter with the boo hag, I’m not thinking straight. So I try to be as honest and fair as possible when I say, “I’m so glad you’re back, Cooper. I really missed you. And while I know none of this was your fault, the truth is, you said some things when you were allured that hurt. I’ll get over them, but I just need some time.” My fingers slip from his grip. “But we’ve got bigger problems then whether we’re okay. A monster wants to drain your life force and steal your skin.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
Sunlight streams through my bedroom window, awakening me to my latest epiphany. We need Miss Delia. Though we’re not supposed to go to her house until she says it’s safe, we can’t wait that long. The boo hag has added a new wrinkle to the situation. Cooper’s birthday is tomorrow, and I’m sure the monster is poised to attack at its next opportunity. I need her advice on how to fight it and maybe to figure out how it connects to the now-broken Beaumont Curse. Plus, I’ve got a new theory about Claude Corbeau that I need to run by her. Since he seems to be at the epicenter of all our recent troubles, I’m wondering how deep his involvement actually goes. If he did plant the pirate’s dagger in Beau’s study, then he was present when Missy died covered in what now seems to be boo-hag blood. Perhaps Claude Corbeau is even more than he appears to be.