Allure (The Hoodoo Apprentice #2) (Entangled Teen) (19 page)

I don’t know what’s really behind his epic change of heart, but I doubt it’s as neat and simple as he says. If I’m right, I’ve got no choice but to fight for his soul even though it might break my heart. “Soon. You’re still wearing the mojo bag, right?” I scan his tank top, hoping it’s tucked neatly underneath.

“No. Taneea didn’t like it. She took it off.”

My vision flashes white. “She what? You let her? How could you?” The cemetery spins as my brain works to take in all the implications of this seemingly small act.

“It’s not really appropriate to keep wearing it.”

My brow knits. “It’s not like we’re talking about a promise ring. That bag isn’t about
us
. It’s about protecting
you
.”

“Emma, come on. Anyone who touches that thing knows better than that. Taneea did and it made her really uncomfortable. She said it’s filled with your feelings for me. It’s not fair of me to do that to her. Besides, now that things have changed between me and you, it can’t possibly have the same power as before.”

Faced with this harsh reality, the very significant pieces click into place. First, as he’s so coolly pointed out, the mojo can’t be the answer to breaking a curse ignited by a
Black Cat Bone
. He’s made it clear that we’re over. Kaput. Done. So even though the mojo was created for him and was formulated to protect him from a black magic curse, it doesn’t represent pure love. Not even close. Pure love is true. Unconditional. Reciprocal.

Our relationship, at least for the time being, is none of the above.

But more important is the fact that the mojo, which has been keeping the Beaumont Curse at bay, is gone. Now he’s exposed and vulnerable to an early attack. I don’t have the time I thought.

The heat on my neck turns ice cold, and a dreadful feeling crawls across my chest, then inches up my throat, closing it over. I’d thought the mojo was the key, but now I’m back to square one, out of ideas, and out of luck. How am I going to find something that meets all the criteria Miss Delia listed before the curse takes hold?

My breath is shallow. I don’t know how, but the effects of my disastrous energy tea seem to be inverting. Instead of feeling pumped up, I’m more like a deflated balloon. Light-headed, I reach out for the only thing that’s solid, Cooper’s arm, to keep from fainting.

He grabs my hand but only long enough to guide me safely back down to the low headstone, then quickly pulls away. “I told you, I’m with Taneea now.”

As if I needed the reminder. But I’ve got bigger concerns, like trying not to fall on my face in a graveyard. Woozy, I drop my head between my thighs and breathe deep.

“Emma!” Jack calls on his way back from making his own drop-off at the crypt. But he must misinterpret Cooper’s body looming over my hunched shoulders because he dashes toward me and kneels at my side. Looking up at Cooper he snaps, “Dude, what is your major damage?”

I lift my head enough to peek at them both.

Ignoring Jack’s question, Cooper nods toward me. “Call me when you’ve figured out what to do.” Then he turns and saunters toward his cart.

“You okay?” Jack searches my gaze.

“I’m fine,” I lie. “Go after him. No matter what you do, keep him up at the Big House and don’t let him out of your sight until I can figure some stuff out. He’s taken off his
Protective Shield
so that curse could take hold whenever it wants.”

Chapter Twenty-two

A
fter Jack chases Cooper in our golf cart, I let the tears I’ve kept locked inside
flow. They’re as much from my broken heart as from abject frustration and utter cluelessness. Time’s running out and I’ve got no idea what to do next.

Hot liquid stings my cheeks. I’ve got no working mortar, an ex-boyfriend who’s either losing his soul or his mind, and I can’t even visit Miss Delia for advice.

I don’t think I’ve ever been so screwed.

Miss Delia’s voice echoes in my mind, her last words assuring me I can figure it all out. Which only makes me laugh between garbled sobs. I can’t. Every time I think I’ve come up with something, it comes back to bite me in the rear. Who am I to think I can break a three hundred year old curse by myself? Especially one cast by someone as powerful and vengeful as Sabina? I’m not special. I don’t have hoodoo in my blood like Sabina and Miss Delia. I’m just a teenager, a
buckrah
comeya
h with a couple month’s worth of hoodoo training. In other words, I’m nothing.

Looks like Taneea was right after all. About everything. Which burns even more.

A fresh set of sobs threatens to well over, but I suck them up. I will not shed them over her or Cooper. Maybe they deserve each other.

Bitter acid coats my tongue. Maybe he deserves everything that’s coming to him, including his soulless fate.

I shudder, sickened that I allowed such a hateful thought to pass through my head. I should know better. In his heart, Cooper isn’t the canker he’s been for the last couple weeks. Maybe Taneea has found a way to magically mess with his feelings. Though I’m inclined to believe the Beaumont Curse has settled in a bit early, snagged him in its claws before he officially comes of age. The only way to bring him back is to break the hex that holds him in its grip.

But that still leaves me clueless about what to do next.

A familiar scent tickles my nose. Lifting my face to get a better whiff, I breathe deep. It’s sharp and cloying and almost antiseptic. A charge jolts my body. It’s a stargazer lily. Maggie’s fragrance. Maggie, Jack’s ghostly ex-girlfriend whose evil murder at the hands of Bloody Bill and his pirates kicked off The Creep and the Beaumont Curse in the first place.

But there are no lilies in this cemetery, just rows and rows of faded white headstones and grave markers draped with clinging green vines.

The stargazer perfume swirls around my head, enveloping me.

Which only proves I’ve officially lost it. Not only am I blathering alone in a cemetery in which I have no dead relatives, but I’m sensing imaginary flowers. I should probably leave before I start hearing voices.

I rise to my feet once again, determined to bolt though I’m not sure to where. The moment my flip-flops touch the ground, my soles tingle. With my luck it’s probably an allergic reaction to the kudzu I’ve been tromping through for the last four-and-a-half hours.

Making a beeline toward the path that leads out of the cemetery, my feet begin to itch. Stooping to scratch them, I don’t feel any welts or bug bites, so I pick up my pace. The cloying scent intensifies and seems to follow me as the itching intensifies to a burn. A strange urge implants itself in my brain. If I return to the cemetery to the cool, lush leaves of the kudzu, the stinging will relent. Which is crazy because that’s where it started in the first place. I break into a jog, but the urge turns into full-on longing and the burning ratchets so high I can barely stand the feel of my feet at the end of my legs.

Suddenly the King Center comes to mind, along with the sensations I felt when Maggie induced me to pick up the pirate’s dagger before we nabbed the ancestors’ mortar.

I stop short. The burning quiets, reducing to a low tingling that buzzes on the tender flesh of my feet. The stargazer scent infuses my clothes and hair. I’ve probably lost it, but it can’t hurt to test my theory.

“Maggie?” I call into the air. “Is that you?”

The wind blows past me, toward the cemetery. Maybe that’s a sign. Or maybe it’s not. I take another step down the path, away from the cemetery to be sure. The burning blasts back, singeing my feet.

I squeal. “Ah! Okay, okay. I get it.”

Backtracking toward the cemetery, I stop at the end of the path. “I have no idea where to go,” I call to no one, or maybe Maggie. The sweet perfume wafts under my nose then carries away on the breeze, deeper into the graveyard. Oh-kay. I guess I’ll follow it.

Chasing the scent, I make my way through the rows, past Missy’s plot and the crypt, to the most kudzu-chocked area of the graveyard. Somewhere in here is Cooper’s mother’s grave, though thanks to my dad’s freak-out, we never saw it. I stand on the cusp of the thick vegetation and look around, not sure where I should put my foot. Who knows what’s under the thick emerald carpet? For all I know there could be snakes lurking in there, waiting to bite anyone who passes over them. My flip-flops aren’t exactly built for hiking.

An electric shock prods my heels.

Exasperated, I look up into the sky and yell, “I don’t know what you want from me. If I climb through here, I’m liable to trip and break my neck.”

“Emma Guthrie. You are closer than you know.” Maggie’s voice, faint, but oh so very clear, carries on the breeze.

Okay. It’s official. I’m hearing the voice of a dead girl.

My legs tremble. “If this is some sort of a sick joke, I’m not laughing.”

Stargazer scent circles my body. “Emma Guthrie. Have faith. You are closer than you know.”

Tears flow and a cool, calm sensation rushes over my body. It is Maggie. And she wants me to trust her. I draw a deep breath. Why not?

Following the scent, I carefully step forward, lifting my flip-flops and placing them on the lush emerald vines as I pass a number of cloaked headstones. Another zap strikes my sole. “What? I’m walking like you wanted me to.” I take another step, but this time, the shock is stronger and shoots straight up my leg. I pull up, halting in place. The buzzing stops completely. I’m guessing I’m exactly where I should be. Right in front of a vine-covered headstone so completely cloaked in kudzu it looks like a topiary bush.

The breeze blows, rustling the bright green leaves clinging to the stone.

I’m closer than I know, huh? Stepping nearer, I reach over and claw at the dense vines, yanking them away. The thick strands are stubborn, seeming to cling harder as I pull. There’s no way I’ve come this far to be beaten by a plant. Wedging my foot against the marker for leverage, I lean back, gripping hard on the vine until it finally snaps. Repeating the motion several times, I break enough to make out the name on the marker.

Clarissa Beaumont. Born: 1973, Died: 2002.

I do the math. The woman in this grave died when Cooper was just five years old. It’s his mother.

I clear the rest of the stone. It’s polished and looks practically brand new, as if it hasn’t been sitting here, exposed to the elements, for the last eleven years.

And there’s something else. Below her name and dates of birth and death, a silver heart-shaped pendant on a chain is embedded in the stone, encased in glass. It’s about two inches long and features a mother and child etched on the cover, with tiny ruby hearts embedded in each of their chests. The mother is gazing at the babe in her arms, a smile on her face. Below the glass case, the stone is inscribed,
Beloved wife and mother
.

For Cooper’s sake, I’m glad I found Clarissa’s grave, but I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with this discovery. Why did Maggie lead me here? Is it too much to hope she’ll give up her cryptic messages and just tell me what she means?

“So now what?” I run my hand over the smooth, marble surface.

The stargazer smell hovers above the stone. I bet Maggie’s perched right here, laughing at me. “You know, you could give me a hint.”

The sun beams on the glass cover, making the tiny ruby shards sparkle.

My upper thigh heats. The Beaumont ruby shard is acting up again. I shove my hand into my pocket to adjust the stone digging into my flesh. An icy charge shoots up my fingers. Yanking my hand away, I peer at my bright red flesh. The gem is so cold it burned me.

Even I can’t ignore the fact that something strange is going on here. It can’t be a coincidence that the locket’s adorned with rubies and the Beaumont ruby is doing its weird temperature thing again. Maggie and my spirit guide must want me to do something. But exactly what, I’m not sure.

I squint at the locket behind the glass. The only way to see it up close is to break the glass and liberate it.

But I’ve done that sort of thing a couple times already this summer. And though stealing the ancestor’s mortar and pirate’s dagger gave us the clues we needed to break The Creep, it also led to trouble with Claude and could possibly end up with Miss Delia or us in jail. Breaking into Beau’s study helped us get the dagger back, but it also revealed that someone—though I’m still not sure who—was at the very least present when Missy died. Each larceny has had its consequences, so I’m hoping these bossy spirits will understand that I’m not exactly anxious to rush into another one.

Still, there must be a reason Maggie has brought me here. She is, after all, the one who led us to the treasure in the first place, igniting this whole summer’s events.

Running my fingers over the glass, I try to gauge its thickness. It doesn’t feel too substantial, though there’s really no way to tell from looking at just one side. My palm tingles, then itches. An irresistible urge takes over, willing me to find a rock and smash it against the pane until I free the locket encased within. But I’ve been through this before. That’s Maggie’s desire. Not mine. Resisting the compulsion, I try to think for myself. It’s one thing to decide to do it on my own; it’s another for her to force me.

The ruby chips twinkle in the sunlight, drawing my eye. The expression on the mother’s face is tender and filled with so much love, it softens my resolve. And then it hits me. This mother’s face is why I’m supposed to get this locket. It must have belonged to Clarissa and very likely dangled close to her heart.

I want the locket. I
need
the locket.

I search for a rock or stick big enough to shatter the glass. But all I see is the endless green carpet of kudzu and the occasional corner of gravestone poking out from under the brush. Shoving my hands down into the leaves, I root around, fumbling for something that will break the compartment. Finally, my hand lands on something cold and hard. It’s a round, smooth stone, like one of the rocks that line some of the older graves. It’ll do.

Racing back to Clarissa’s grave, I hold the stone over my head, ready to strike. Realizing I’m about to desecrate her grave to some extent, I bite my bottom lip and offer a word of apology. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Beaumont, but I’m pretty sure I need to do this.”

The rock crashes against the case and cracks the glass. I slam it twice more before it shatters. Carefully, I sift through the shards and lift out my quarry. The silver locket is in perfect condition. I pry it open. Inside are two small photos. One of Clarissa, the other of Cooper. Snapping it closed, I flip it over. The back is inscribed.

Your heart and mine

Forever entwined

Love everlasting

Till the end of time

My chest swells. The locket is filled with Clarissa’s love for her son. A mother’s
pure
love
. It couldn’t be more specific to Cooper. And just like the Beaumont Curse, which was first cast when Lady Rose gave birth to her only child, this too features a mother and son. I’d say that’s pretty curse-specific.

This is the key to combating the
Black Cat Bone
and breaking the Beaumont Curse.

But now that I’ve got it, what am I supposed to do with it? My heart pounds as I gaze at the top of Clarissa’s headstone to where I imagine Maggie sitting. “I don’t know what to do with this. Cooper’s not wearing his mojo anymore, so I’m pretty sure I’ve got to break the curse as soon as possible. But the ancestors’ mortar still needs to rest, and my energy’s not back.”

“You have everything you need.” Maggie’s voice carries on the breeze.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

The refrain repeats, this time more faint. “You have everything you need.”