“And it probably killed my mother, just like it killed Missy. And tried to kill you last night.”
My body quakes as I remember how awful the mind suck was. I’ve done a good job repressing the sheer terror of my contorted memories, but after seeing what happened to Missy, I realize I was lucky. The boo hag only inhaled me for a few seconds and I retained my sanity. Missy wasn’t as fortunate. No wonder she was so demented she couldn’t brush her own hair and thought it was okay to destroy her home. The creature literally drove her mad.
Jack straightens and swallows hard. “That thing said it’s been at this for almost three hundred years. If that’s true, it must have killed every one of the Beaumonts since Sabina cast those first curses.”
I gasp as a missing piece finally clicks into place. “That’s why it wants the ruby back. Somehow its power is wrapped up with the Beaumont Curse.”
“But we destroyed the stone,” Jack says.
“The boo hag doesn’t know that. It thinks I’ve got it. We can use that to our advantage,” Cooper says, a steely glint in his eyes.
It’s the first ray of hope I’ve felt all day.
Jack’s shoulders ease. “That monster’s going to be surprised when it finds out Cooper’s mom turned it into heap of flower petals.”
Cooper’s mouth bends into a determined grin. “It’ll be more than surprised. That thing stole my parents from me and destroyed my entire family. I’m going to kill it or die trying.” His voice is as grim as the expression on his face.
“My vote is that you don’t die,” Jack says.
Cooper hitches his brow. “Mine too.”
Jack turns to me. “So how do we make that happen? Cooper’s birthday is tomorrow so it’s probably planning a move tonight. We don’t have much time to plan.”
I draw a deep breath. “Well, for starters, Miss Delia said we’ve got to figure out where it hides its skin when it goes out at night, then salt it down so it can’t climb back in. What’s the most likely place the boo hag would store Beau’s skin?”
A lightbulb goes off in my head. Apparently the same thing happens to Jack and Cooper because they both turn to me at the same time. “Beau’s study!” we say in unison.
…
We spend the rest of the afternoon and evening at the caretaker’s cottage waiting for the sun to set and darkness to roll in. When the clock strikes ten, we head out for the Big House, hoping the boo hag has shed Beau’s skin and gone out for the night.
The sky’s a deep, dusky purple, darkened by thick, opaque clouds that obscure the stars. The only light comes from the full moon that casts an eerie silver-white glow through the haze.
We trek down the path, trying to make as little noise as possible. The Big House comes into view. My heart clenches. Every light in the house is on. Which means Beau has been around. And may even be in there right now. There’s only one way to find out.
Cooper opens the front door. My ears prick, on alert for any indication that we’re not alone. The foyer is silent. Even the air seems to hang still. We tiptoe toward the main hall, then stop short at the corner and listen for any sound. There’s only silence. We crane our necks to peek at the door to Beau’s private study.
It’s shut. A sliver of light shines through the crack above the floor.
Taking a deep breath, Cooper paces down the hall with me and Jack at his heels. At the door, Cooper holds up his fist to knock. He freezes midair, as if he’s afraid to follow though.
I can’t blame him. His life, or death, could be waiting for him in there.
“You can do this, Coop. We’ve got your back,” Jack whispers.
Cooper nods, then pounds his fist, hard and fast.
There’s no hiding now. If the boo hag’s in there, it knows we’re out here.
No sound comes from behind the door. Cooper waits another moment before pounding again. “Dad?”
Jack nods at Cooper.
Together, they ram their shoulders into the mahogany door, pounding until they break it in. Finally, it slams against the wall with a thud.
If Beau’s in here, we’re so screwed.
But the room is empty. And except for the window that’s wide open and the curtain blowing in the cool evening breeze, it’s perfectly still. Just an ordinary office filled with ordinary office furniture.
We race inside, scanning the floor for the rubbery Beau suit. It’s nowhere in sight.
“Maybe it’s hidden.” Jack sprints across the room to the closet. He yanks open the door, but his chest caves at the shelves lined with copier paper and other supplies, and boxes filled with old tax returns.
Cooper tugs open the deep side drawers of the desk. I’m not exactly sure Beau would file his suit away, but I suppose it’s worth a try.
Once Jack’s satisfied that the closet isn’t a Beau suit storage unit, he gets down on his hands and knees to search under the sofa and arm chairs.
I spin my messenger bag around to my back and start on the file cabinet across the room beneath the open window. My eyes are drawn to the nearby glass-enclosed shelves that display the hundreds of artifacts from High Point Bluff. My fingers prick as I scan the tangible history of the Beaumont family. Before tonight, I knew this plantation was tainted by its involvement in slavery and its male progeny cursed for what Edmund Beaumont and a band of wicked pirates did to an enslaved African girl. But now, after the Psychic Vision, I realize High Point Bluff’s story is much more dismal than I ever imagined. After the Beaumont men lost their souls, a horrible boo hag exploited their bodies’ vulnerability and possessed their flesh once they came of age. And, if Clarissa, Missy, and Beau’s other two wives are any indication, the rest of the Beaumont women weren’t spared either.
A queasy feeling grips my stomach. I turn away from the mini-museum of horrors and direct my attention back to the file cabinet, clasping the pull. My fingers burn like fire. I yank my hand away and shake it out to relieve the pain. The collection glows with a soft yellow light. A deep ache sets into my soles, urging me toward the display shelves.
Jeez, my spirit guide’s working overtime to make a point.
Scanning the items once more, I try to figure out what’s so special about them. It’s hard to imagine there’s anything particularly noteworthy about bottles, hair combs, handkerchiefs, pewter cups, and pocket watches. They look like random items from lives lived—or more accurately—lost.
Jack pops up on to his knees after rolling back the area rug. I can only assume he’s looking for a trap door of some sort. “What’s up, Em?”
“Um, I’m not sure, but there’s something important about all this stuff.” I stroke my chin as I scan the glowing items.
Jack joins me in front of the shelves. “Too bad Mom isn’t here. She could probably tell us if any of that stuff is valuable.”
Except her specialty is Middle Eastern desert culture, so it’s highly doubtful. And there’s the whole hoodoo thing, too, which isn’t exactly part of her curriculum.
Cooper gives up on the desk drawers and steps to my other side. “It just looks like a bunch of stuff that was handed down through my family.”
“I guess. But my spirit guide’s kind of making a big deal about it.”
Jack’s brow arches. “Let me guess, voices?”
I shake my head. “Glowing.”
He chuckles. “Dang. How come you get all the fun? I’m your twin, and I don’t see squat.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. I guess it’s my curse.”
“Or your gift,” Cooper says. “It’s let you do some pretty amazing things. And saved me and Jack while you were at it. I wouldn’t get too down on those powers of yours.” He smiles as his blue-green gaze meets mine.