The Hoodoo Apprentice: Allure Part 23

Could Cooper really be in love with Taneea? The question has looped through my mind a thousand times over the last couple hours as I've tossed and turned, yearning for sleep. The Beaumont Curse was broken, yet he still ran right to her, so I know for sure his feelings weren't caused by the curse.

Taneea's beautiful, more experienced, and is closer to his age. Plus she's got much more cleavage than I do. Most guys would dump a girl like me for someone like her. But Cooper's not most guys. The Cooper I've known wouldn't be interested in someone who disrespects her great-grandmother, gambles, hitchhikes, or gets thrown out of school, no matter how hot she is.

So then why is he fawning all over her? Spending every free second with her and even changing his wardrobe on her command? He doesn't even look like himself anymore in those embarra.s.sing clothes.

The image of his frosty eyes flashes across my mind. They're his, but not his, too. For as long as I've known him, their color s.h.i.+fts between blue and green depending on what he's wearing, but lately, they've only held that strange, colorless hue.

And then it hits me: he's not the Cooper I know. At least not totally. Something is causing him to act this way, and I'm guessing it's got something to do with Taneea and more illicit conjuring.

I need to talk to him, figure out what she's done, and try to snap him out of whatever trance she's got him under. s.n.a.t.c.hing my cell off my nightstand, I dial his number. Predictably, it goes straight to voice mail.

He's left me with no other choice. Throwing off the covers, I jump out of bed and race to my dresser, then pull out the only thing that's clean: my peasant blouse and bohemian skirt. We had our first date in this outfit, a perfect moonlit night on the beach, complete with lots of kissing under the silver moon. Maybe it's a good omen. With my luck lately, it might be the exact opposite.

Ten minutes later, guided only by the light of the nearly full moon, I burst past the spiny palmetto bush at the end of the path that leads to the Big House. I stop short. Taneea's tacky, hot-pink truck is in the driveway, parked next to Cooper's station wagon. Although it's only a quarter past eleven, the front of the house is pitch-black and quiet.

I've come this far. I'd better suck it up and go the rest of the way. It might even be good to confront them together. Drawing a deep breath, I climb the front steps and ring the bell. After a silent moment, I depress the intercom b.u.t.ton on the security system, knowing it'll make every phone in the house ring. Noisy, but it'll get his attention. After a few long minutes and several more rings, I'm still alone on the doorstep.

I stomp down the steps and turn to look at the mansion. I could go home, convince myself I've lost my mind, and give up on this entirely, allowing them to live happily-or not-ever after. Except I can't. Literally. My feet won't pivot and return down the path. The only option is to move forward, skirting along the side of the house toward the back.

The darkness is creepy, heavy almost. Even the crickets, frogs, and other night creatures are hushed. Under the gauzy light of the moon, I make my way toward the backyard and glimpse the only light, which is coming from Cooper's room on the second floor.

Like I've done a thousand times before, I pick up a tiny pebble from the ground and toss it at his window. If I can get his attention, maybe he'll answer the door like a normal person and we can talk.

Though my pebble strikes the sill, he doesn't look out the gla.s.s. I toss another and then a third, but still he doesn't answer. This is getting ridiculous.

I slump back against the magnolia's st.u.r.dy trunk. Normally these ornamentals are thin and spindly, but under my dad's watchful and very verdant thumb, this tree has flourished.

A crazy idea pops into my head. I can climb up there and ensure I get his attention. It's super-stalkerish, but considering I've given him every opportunity to respond, I don't think it's too outrageous. At least that's what I'm telling myself.

Besides, he can't get too ticked off at me. I did just destroy the Beaumont ruby, end the curse, and help him reconnect with his mom.

Planting my flip-flop on the lowest branch, I grab hold of a bough at my eye level and begin my ascent. The pink magnolia's fragrance is faint but delicious, a combination of cinnamon, rose water, and a hint of hyacinth. As I climb in the dim light, my flip-flop slides off the smooth bark, leaving me dangling. Gasping, I clutch tight and fumble to regain my footing. Note to self: flip-flops are not ideal tree-climbing equipment.

Finally, I scale high enough to peek into his window. But I can only just make out the top of Cooper's golden-brown head across the room. I need to get higher, but the branches are thinner and less st.u.r.dy. Biting my bottom lip, I grab hold and yank to test their strength. They're firm and seem steady, so I scramble another couple feet until I'm high enough to see into the room.

A crow flies into the tree, roosting on a skinny branch several feet above me. Which is totally weird because I didn't know crows were nocturnal animals. I stare hard at its gla.s.sy black eyes, mentally shooing it away before my attention is drawn back to Cooper's room.

Taneea's standing in front of Cooper as he sits on the edge of his bed. They're talking and he's beaming up at her with those cold, gray-white eyes. He's wearing a fresh wife-beater T-s.h.i.+rt, a clean pair of long denim shorts, and pristine, lime-green high-tops. Yuck. How many pairs of those hideous things did he buy? My eye is drawn to a thick, silver chain around his neck that I've never seen before. It almost looks like one of those metal choke collars for dogs. I guess it's another one of Taneea's fas.h.i.+on statements, though I'm not sure what putting a dog collar on your boyfriend is supposed to symbolize.

The crow flits closer, hopping down to a thicker limb just a foot from me. What the heck is with this thing? Aren't wild birds supposed to be afraid of people? The crow c.o.c.ks its head as if it's studying me. Evidently I'm not that scary. Well, that's about to change because the last thing I need is a nosy bird. Gripping the trunk with my left hand, I swat at the winged creature with my right. With a whoosh, it leaps away, just in time for me to take in the rest of what's going on in Cooper's room.

Taneea steps forward and runs her long fingers through Cooper's soft curls. She must say something hilarious because he throws his head back and howls in laughter. Then he wraps his arms around her midsection and pulls her close, tilting his face up to her. She leans forward and kisses the spot right next to his lips.

Steamy tears well as my stomach somersaults, churning with bile. I want to puke. And cry. And scream. All at the same time. It's one thing to have wondered what's been going on between them, and even imagined it, but it's another to actually see it with my own eyes. And the worst part is that he looks so...happy. Could he smile that wide if he was under a spell?

From the corner of her eye, Taneea glances toward the window.

I freeze, wondering if somehow I shrieked but didn't hear my own voice. I don't think so, but at this point, anything's possible. Holding my breath, I squelch my tears, and swallow the acidic taste that's working its way up the back of my throat.

Cupping his face in her palms, she leans into his ear and whispers something, then straightens and squares her shoulders. He grabs her hand and smiles, tugging her back toward him. Giggling, she pulls herself free and saunters toward the window, her brow hitched and a wicked grin on her lips. Cooper's mother's locket hangs around her neck.

I tell myself there's a chance she doesn't realize I'm here. Maybe she just interrupted a make-out session to come look at the moon. It could happen.

Except a second later, we come face-to-face, separated only by a thin sheet of gla.s.s and the ten feet between the magnolia and the Big House. Staring me down, she winks, then pulls the cord on the blinds, dropping them the full length of the pane. The slats are still open, providing me a view to the room. But a second later, she yanks the other cord and seals them shut.

Oh yeah, she's seen me. Perched in a tree, being a giant, creepy, Peeping Tom stalker.

My brain spins as a thousand thoughts converge at once, imagining what's going on in there behind those blinds. No, I can't go there. Blocking the torturous images, my mind s.h.i.+fts to an even more painful thought: Maybe Cooper isn't under a spell. Maybe he truly does care for her. Maybe I lost him fair and square.

A big, wailing sob works its way up my throat. My bottom lip trembles. Just as I'm about to drop my head and give in to my pity party, the persistent crow flies back into the magnolia. This time, rather than keeping its distance, it aims right for me, alighting on a bough just above my head. I jerk back and shoo it with my right hand again. But rather than taking flight, the crazy bird advances and pecks at my fingers. Ducking away, I swing toward my left to avoid its attack. The crow persists, this time striking my left arm with its beak. Frantic, I release my grip in the trunk and try to scamper down the tree, but descending is harder and slower than the initial climb, especially with a rabid bird on the loose and flip-flops on my feet. Weaving to avoid the bird's sharp bill, I reach for a branch with one hand at the same moment I've released the other, just as my flip-flop slips against the smooth bark.

Untethered, I bow to gravity's command, cras.h.i.+ng against hard limbs and fragrant magnolia flowers.

A gust of wind rushes from my lungs as my back slams against the hard ground, followed by the smack of my head.

Everything goes black.

Chapter Twenty-six.

My head throbs with pain and my shoulders ache as if they've been whacked by a two-by-four. Swallowing hard, I coax my eyes open, then attempt to focus on the pink dots circling above my head. My vision stops spinning long enough to realize the dancing pink spots are magnolia flowers. Attached to branches. The silver moon hangs in the sky overhead. I reach out my fingers and touch hard, cool soil and fuzzy, green moss.

Why am I on the ground?

Oh my gosh. I fell out of the tree. I extend a shaky hand to explore my screaming head. Inching my fingers around my scalp, I don't sense any cuts or blood. Just a nasty lump on the back of my skull. I'm lucky. I think. Though someone should probably tell my back that.

Squish, suck. Squish, suck. Squish, suck.

The strange sound comes from just outside my peripheral view. It kind of reminds me of the time Jack I and walked home in the pouring rain in our drenched sneakers. Each mushy step sounded like a disgusting bodily function that cracked Jack up.

Craning my neck, I squint toward the wet, pulpy sound.

My heart skips and I draw a quick inhale that burns my smarting ribs.

A long, thin, red-skinned creature with lankly limbs is scaling the exterior wall beneath Cooper's window. It's headed right for him.

I blink to make sure I'm not imagining things. Nope, it's real.

The glistening scarlet creature grips the white paneling with the three suction-cup-like fingers on each of its hands, squelching with each step it takes.

Goose b.u.mps rush over my battered body and a scream leaps from my mouth.

The thing whips its face toward me, glaring its bulbous, crimson eyes-if that's what they are-and hisses. Turning away, it continues its ascent up the brick wall.

I don't know what it is, but I know it shouldn't be there. Adrenaline throws my heart into overdrive, giving me the strength to heave onto my side and try to find a way to stop it. Wincing, I stretch my hand and fumble in the dim light, searching for something to throw. Gripping a handful of hardwood bark, I pull back my throbbing arm and lob.

Most of the hardwood chips miss their target. Only a few pieces graze the creature's feet.

Undeterred, it continues its climb.

Frantic, I suck up the pain and crawl on my hands and knees, searching for something more substantial. Sc.r.a.ping the ground with my nails, I unearth a handful of dirt and tiny rocks. Heaving for breath, I scramble to my knees and launch the dirt bomb. It lands just where I'd hoped, spraying the creature's back.

It swings its slender, hairless head in my direction. Hissing again, this time it spews a mouthful of slimy, viscous spit. I pull back but not quick enough to miss the incoming a.s.sault. The monster's s...o...b..r splats squarely on my stomach, sliming my peasant s.h.i.+rt. I shriek and instinctively reach for my midsection, planting my hand in the goop. It's hot and sludgy and reeks of rotting garbage and week-old decomposition. Wiping the muck on a tuft of gra.s.s, a sudden realization hits me. This is the same stinky stuff I saw on Cooper's window a couple weeks ago. There's a reason it doesn't care about me, my mulch chips, or pebbles. It wants Cooper and will stop at nothing to get him.

"Cooper!" I scream, splitting my headache even further, hoping it'll be enough to warn him.

The creature continues to suction cup its way up the wall making that revolting, sloshy sound. Panicked, I search for anything substantial I can throw at the hideous monster. Finally, I spy a nice round rock. Still on my knees, I clamber toward it, yank it from the earth, and hurl it at the back of the monster's head.

It lands with a satisfying thunk.

Which is a giant mistake because the creature launches itself off the wall, landing in front of me in one smooth leap.

I shriek, rattling my eardrums.

"Shut up!" it hisses as it advances toward me. With its long, lanky body and slender rectangular head, it almost looks like a giant stick bug wrapped in inverted human flesh. Its putrid stench, like some kind of trash and manure-propelled tear gas, burns my throat and causes my eyes to water.

I should run, bolt out of here as fast as my pummeled body will take me, but my knees are frozen as if I'm literally planted in the soil. All I can do is stare up at the creature's red, mushy flesh that s.h.i.+nes like raw meat.

"Get away!" I force the words from my constricted throat. "Leave us alone."

"Ha, ha, ha!" It laughs, sounding like it's choking on curled cottage cheese. "Silly girl. This is my destiny," it lisps, and then reaches its gangly arms toward me, extending its horrible three-fingered hands. I gawk at the meaty suction cups at their tips.

"Help!" I call, not sure to who since it's clear Cooper is indisposed. And I came here alone without so much as leaving a note in my room. How stupid could I be?

"Emma?" Jack's voice echoes from the somewhere near the front of the Big House.

My heart leaps with joy. I've never been so relieved to hear his voice. "Jack! Help!" I scream just as the creature lunges forward and seizes my throat with its clammy, fetid hands. My voice cuts off as it lifts me off my knees and suspends me in the air.

I stare at my reflection in its bulging, lidless, bloodred gaze. My eyes are stretched wide, my jaw agape, and my skin's pulled taut in a perfect picture of abject horror. Yet the image doesn't come close to conveying the actual terror that has filled my mind and engorged every cell of my body.

"Silence! I don't wish to hurt you, but I will if I must," it says, lingering on each s sound. "You see, the smart ones are my least favorite. Not very tasty. Though it's never stopped me in a pinch." Its long, lizard-like tongue shoots from its mouth and licks the length of my jaw, leaving a thick layer of slime.

I gag as an idea forms of what this thing is. No! Clawing at its lean arms, I try in vain to make it release me. Its skin is tacky and feels exactly like an uncooked piece of steak that's been left out on the counter for the afternoon.

It laughs again as it tightens its grasp. "So very feisty. Though I should thank you for breaking the Gullah hag's curse. Now I don't have to wait for the boy's birthday to claim his body. His intact soul will make it harder to separate his life force from his flesh, but it's nothing I haven't done before."

Jack's footfalls pound toward us.

I call to him, but the creature still has my throat in its vise grip so the sound comes out garbled, though loud.

"You asked for it." The creature opens its toothless mouth. Thick white sludge drips over its fine, red lips. It leans in, extending its jaw wide enough to swallow my whole head.

An invisible force flicks on, sucking the life from my body. More than my energy, it feels as if the monster is inhaling both my spirit and soul. My vision blinks white as memories literally unspool from my mind and whoosh toward the monster's throat. Distorted images from when Jack and I were babies, sharing the same crib, and playing on our hobbyhorse yank from my brain. I know they're real and depict actual events, but stolen this way, they're pulled and stretched, a fun house version of my life. Next, my mother and father whiz by as they were one Christmas morning more than a decade ago, in our old house in DC, followed by scenes from preschool and kindergarten and our first trip to St. Helena to see our dad. But rather than reliving the joyous, happy times they were, the pictures are contorted, dark, and frightening. And worst of all, this alternative, warped version of reality feels so real it's enough to make me question my sanity.

"Emma!" Jack's voice, filled with dread, fear, and alarm, is the only thing that breaks through the unfurling events of my fourteen-year-old existence. "Let go of my sister!" he screams.

His arrival must distract the creature because the force field breaks and my early memories snap back into my head like one of those vinyl window shades that retract on a roller. But rather than bouncing back to their former, happy shapes, the images remain buckled and deformed, leaving me terribly unsettled.

The creature glances over its scarlet shoulder. "Go away! This doesn't concern you," it hisses.

"Like h.e.l.l it doesn't." Jack darts into the woods on the side of the house.

The creature jerks back toward me and tilts its bizarre, thin head. "Now, where were we?" A thin slash of a smile splits its lips. "Oh, yes. Just a tiny nibble more." Its jaw gapes once again and the vacuum-like force switches on.

Just as my brain starts to slip back into that disoriented whirl of disfigured images, I catch a glimpse of Jack running toward the creature, his hands gripped around something long and pointy. He screams just as the creature starts to Hoover my brain again.

White light flashes. Memories flicker. Then everything stops as I'm jostled, then dropped to the ground. Propping myself up on my elbows, I blink up at the red, fleshy creature looming above me. Its hands are wrapped around the end of a tree branch that Jack must have impaled through its midsection.

Cooper's window opens. He pries his face against the screen. "What the-"

The creature stumbles back a few feet. Then, like a magician pulling handkerchiefs from his sleeve, the creature yanks the bough clear through its midsection, leaves and all. When the limb is free, the wound spews a sludgy, black substance, spattering everything within a six-foot radius, including me. It stinks like raw sewage. I shriek as the fetid glop gushes on my legs, stinging my skin, and soiling my clothes.

Slapping its three-fingered hands over its gaping wound, the creature looks up at Cooper. "This isn't over. Your soul may be safe, but your body has always been marked as mine. I won't relinquish my destiny, and you won't escape yours."

The creature vaults over me, clutching its abdomen as it dodges around Jack, then dashes into the woods and fades into the night.

"Emma! Jack!" Cooper yells, then disappears from his window.

I slump to the ground and cough as I heave for air through my crushed throat. Every breath draws in the awful stench that covers my skin and clothes, but I've got bigger problems, starting with the disturbing images that haunt my mind's eye. I tell myself those screwed-up pictures aren't real, that my real memories represent blissful times. But even though I know that to be the truth, fear and anxiety linger in my chest anyway. Maybe if I keep rea.s.suring myself, eventually, I'll believe it. But my still-pounding headache isn't making things any easier. Staring up at the moonlit sky, I attempt to will away the pain.

Jack races for me, diving next to my p.r.o.ne body. "Are you okay?" His searching eyes are filled with shock.

"Ugh." I'm so far past okay, I can barely form words in my mind much less speak them.

He plugs his nose. "Dang. No offense, but you stink."

I nod my head, which only makes it hurt worse. "I know." My voice is rough and raspy as I lift a hand to put pressure on the ache. "How did you know to save me?"

He shrugs. "Twin sense, I guess. I felt you were in trouble, so I went to find you. When you weren't in your room, I figured you must have come out here. Which was beyond moronic by the way, even when a demonic monster isn't trying to kill you."

Cooper flies around the corner from the back of the Big House. Crouching opposite Jack, he grabs my hand and gazes down at me with his white-gray eyes. "What happened? And what was that...thing?"

I clear my throat. "I'm pretty sure it was a boo hag." I had my suspicions when the creature talked about how tasty people are, but they were confirmed when it claimed Cooper's body. And perhaps most frightening of all, the boo hag is somehow connected to the Beaumont Curse. All that creature's talk about destiny and being marked can only mean one thing: even though we broke the jinx and secured Cooper's soul, Cooper's still in danger.

Cooper gulps. "What does it want?"

Jack turns to him, his brow hitched. "Evidentially, you. Or at least your skin."