A screech shatters the cloudy night as a shock of red streaks out of the forest, whizzes past me, and lands in the cell with Cooper. A chorus of shrieks and yelps erupts in a mixture of human and otherworldly sounds that curdle my blood.
It’s the boo hag, red, slick and shining, trapped in a cage with Cooper. “You’re mine!” the boo hag howls.
I scream and nearly jump out of my own skin as I throw up my hands and launch the silver cup skyward. Time seems to slow and my vision tunnels, allowing me to capture every event that happens around me.
The cup somersaults in slow motion as it falls back to earth and then crashes into the fire. Flames engulf the metal, ferociously licking its surface.
A streak of yellow light explodes from a nearby grave and launches into the night sky like a Roman candle. High above the clearing, it bursts like fireworks. But rather than cascading to the ground, the shimmering flecks of yellow iridescence hover in the atmosphere, twinkling with radiant intensity. It’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.
The boo hag squeals and flinches at the light, shielding its lidless eyes from its luster.
“The broom!” I shout to Cooper, realizing this is his opportunity to gain the upper hand and distract the boo hag into counting.
Cooper shoves the broom’s straw end in the boo hag’s face. “Hey, how many strands are there?”
Crouching under the glistening brilliance still floating above, the boo hag’s thin, rectangular head tilts toward the broom as its bulging eyes lock onto the bristles. It extends its three-fingered hands toward the broom. “Give it to me!”
Cooper backs away, guiding the boo hag to the center of the cage. He points the broom’s end to a mullein bundle. “Only if you promise to count these too.”
The boo hag lunges to the post. It clutches its crimson hands around the bundle, becoming mesmerized by the strands and murmuring to itself. Cooper turns sideways and slips between two of the mullein torches. Then he tosses the broom in the center of the cage and races over to us.
“Dude, that was a close one!” Jack slaps Cooper on the shoulder.
Cooper’s chest rises and falls as he gasps for breath. “I’ve got to admit I had my doubts, but man, you were right.”
I shake my head. “No. Miss Delia was right.”
We watch as the boo hag combs its three-fingered hands through the strands on the post. When it finishes, it hops to the next and begins its count again.
Cooper tilts his head back to look at the light hovering above the clearing. “Is that a spirit? It sparkles like my mom.”
“I think so. It shot out when I dropped the cup into the fire. Whatever it is, it scared the crap out of the boo hag.” I glance at the silver that’s still burning in the flame. Funny. I’d have guessed it might have begun to melt by now.
“What if you tossed in the rest?” Jack asks.
Just as I’m about to tell him that’s the dumbest idea ever, that one artifact sacrificed by accident is bad enough, but a hundred on purpose is unforgivable, I reconsider. If the boo hag is frightened, even pained by one stolen Beaumont spirit, what could happen if a hundred are released? The light could be bright enough to rival the sun and we might not have to wait until dawn. If we’re lucky, this horror show could be over in a few minutes.
“You’re a genius!” A surge of adrenaline shoots through my blood stream as I throw my arms around my brother and give him a hug.
“Of course I am. Why are you so surprised?” he asks.
But rather than answer him and stroke his ego, I dive toward the nearest box and start unloading items into the fire. “Help me!” I cry and point to the other two crates of artifacts.
One by one, the items drop into the fire, feeding the flames like a giant bellows. The graveyard explodes like a bank of fireworks at New Year’s Eve as yellow spirits leap from the soil and soar toward the heavens in a stunning pyrotechnics spectacle. The cemetery is bathed in bright, glowing light as spirits dash around and spin with joy as if released from a near-eternal confinement.
With each new burst, the boo hag screams and writhes and shades its eyes, yet continues to obsess over its counting.
Jack lifts the pirate’s knife. “What should I do with this? It was on the shelf with the other stuff before we took it from the study.”
He’s right. If we hadn’t found it that day encrusted with dried boo hag blood, we wouldn’t have known to try a Psychic Vision. “Might as well toss it in, too.”
He throws it into the fire with the other objects. The fire blazes, but just like the silver cup, the artifacts appear to remain intact and undisturbed by the flames. When the last of the collection has been added, the boo hag is cringing on the ground, curled around the broom in the center of the mullein cage, relentlessly counting the strands of straw.
My heart sinks. Though the sky is as bright as a ballpark at night, the light has only incapacitated the boo hag and hasn’t ended its existence. Is it too much to hope the Beaumont spirits will hang around until the sun rises? At least they’ll help keep it cowering and confined in our makeshift jail.
An icy wind blows over the graveyard, sending chills up my spine. A deep, rolling laugh echoes across the clearing.
I’ve heard that sound before. It’s the stuff of my deepest nightmares. Pivoting on my heels, I turn around.
A small but stocky woman with scarified ebony skin is standing atop of one of the gravestones at the far side of the clearing. She’s dressed in coarse, dingy-white clothes and her hair is wrapped in a turban. A stubby, dark-colored root juts out from her mouth.
My heart leaps into my throat.
It’s Sabina, the African root doctress who created The Creep and the Beaumont Curse nearly three hundred years ago. And she’s coming for us.
Chapter Thirty-two
Sabina grinds the root between her crooked teeth. “You’ve been busy, haven’t you, girl?” Her voice is low and gruff, with a jagged edge. The fragrant scent of wisteria floods the clearing, a deceptively sweet but highly poisonous flower. I don’t need the olfactory clue to know to stay away. I’ve seen her work up close and personal and I know how evil she is.
“Emma? Who’s that?” Cooper points to Sabina who, despite standing beneath the canopy of luminous light, appears cloaked in shadow.
Not wanting to draw Sabina’s attention to the only Beaumont heir, I ignore him. Gathering my courage and wits, I swallow hard. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She disappears. A moment later she reappears standing atop a broken stone about halfway across the clearing. “Oh, I’m sure you do. You think I don’t keep watch of my spells and who’s trying to break them? I’ve had my eye on you for a while, child.”
Jack steps next to me and puffs his skinny chest. “What do you want?”
She raises a squat finger at him. “You best stay back, boy.”
Though I’m more than half a foot shorter, I stand in front of him to act as a shield. “He doesn’t mean you any harm, Sabina.” I toss in her name hoping to clue Jack and Cooper into how serious this is and prevent them from doing something heroic and stupid.
She chuckles, but it’s menacing and full of loathing. “I’m sure of that. Not that he could if he tried.”
“He couldn’t. He doesn’t know hoodoo.”
One narrow brow arches. “But you do, don’t you? Enough to mess with what I set forth so many moons ago.” She hops off the gravestone and levitates off the ground.
I stay put, tapping an unknown source of strength. “I haven’t done anything to hurt you. I’ve only helped my brother and friend.”
Her irises vanish and her eyes glow white. “You’ve destroyed my plans!” She stretches her mouth wide, magnifying her voice until it shakes the ground.