Conjure (15 page)

“You’re ready, Mistress,” Sabina says. “Wait for the next squeeze, and give one good push. Then it’ll all be over.” She licks her lips.

Lady Rose strains with the little energy she has left. A moment later, she howls, then collapses on the bed, her chest heaving for air.

Sabina lays her hand under the newborn infant’s head and wipes it with a nearby sheet. It snorts and coughs, then makes a mewing sound.

A deep, rolling laugh bubbles from Sabina’s chest as she slips her hand into the pocket of her skirt. “Well done, Mistress. You have a son. Exactly as I hoped.” She withdraws the dagger—the one Miss Delia’s holding over the mortar right now—and grabs the infant’s umbilical cord.

Lady Rose lifts her head off the pillow and manages an exhausted smile. “Thank you, Sabina.” Her voice is soft and ragged. “Thank you for saving me and my child. I knew you would redeem yourself. I will never forget this.”

Sabina’s lips curl at the corners. She looks like a psycho killer. “I know you won’t, Mistress, not after what I’m about to do.” She runs the knife’s blade up and down the cord but not hard enough to cut it.

Lady Rose tenses and strains to pull herself up as she eyes her newborn with grave concern. “What are you doing?”

Sabina cocks her head. “Repaying what you done to me and mine. Master Edmund got his for what he done.” She quirks her brow, and a giddy laugh slips from her lips. “His dry bones up and walked around till they turned to dust. Now he hears the mighty word of the Lord. Too bad it’s too late to save him.”

Lady Rose shudders. “Sabina, I had no part in what happened between Edmund and those dreadful pirates. You must believe me and spare my child.”

Sabina halts the knife’s menacing slide along the cord. Her gaze hardens, and she jabs the shiny blade at Lady Rose. “I might have believed you, but you’re wearing that blood stone. Even now. So I know you were involved.” She sneers and twists the knife in the air. “You and the master think you rule over us Africans, but you don’t know who I am. I am a queen in my homeland.” She beats her chest with her knife-wielding fist, then points the blade at Lady Rose. “You spilled royal blood. So you must pay, too, and here’s your punishment.”

She scoops the baby up with her free hand, nestling him in the crook of her arm, and reaches for the cord, looping it around her fingers. “I’m not going to take this boy now. No, I’m going to let you have him for a little while. Let him grow big and strong, happy and bright till he comes of age and becomes a man. Full of potential. That’s when I’ll steal his soul. And when you see how corrupt he becomes, you’re going to know it’s because of the evil you and the master did for a red rock.” The baby cries. Sabina rocks him gently and makes shushing noises. “And the best part is, this cycle’s going to repeat, for his son, and his son after that, for as long as the Beaumonts live.” Sabina erupts in peals of deranged laughter.

Lady Rose’s eyes flash with anger. “You don’t have the power.”

“Don’t I? The master learned different.”

Lady Rose scoffs. “You claim credit for Edmund’s pestilence. And though you may have convinced some of your fellow ignorant slaves, I know it was nothing more than the plague, certainly not the work of a madwoman. You are a charlatan, and I’ll see you hanged before you threaten my child again.” She screams, “Jemy! Cato! Jupiter! Come here at once!”

Sabina chuckles. “They’ll never catch me. And even if they do, it’ll be too late.” She slips the blade into the umbilical cord loop. “As you took mine, I take yours and all of theirs.” With a flick of her wrist, the knife severs the cord. The candle flames sputter. Sabina tosses the infant at Lady Rose, who screams and fumbles to catch him. Sabina throws the knife on the bed, reaches into her pocket and lobs a handful of powder on the mother and child, and bolts for the door. Even though the window and door are shut, a massive gust of wind whips around the room, extinguishing the candles and leaving the room in total darkness. The door opens a crack, then slams shut.

Sparks shoot up in the mortar, then suddenly cut off, stifling the incense screen and dissipating the smoke. I shake my head to clear the hazy fog that still hangs in my brain and turn to Miss Delia, who’s doing the same. She releases my hand. Beyond tired, I’m drained and lose my grip on the knife, which drops on the counter with a clatter.

I’m totally confused, and it’s not because of the psychic tea’s lingering effects. The vision showed the knife’s last cut, all right, and confirms that Edmund died from The Creep, but it certainly didn’t show us how the curse was cast.

My addled brain grapples with all the information revealed in the scene, ruminating over Sabina’s words.

Oh, my God.
I gasp.
It can’t be.

The blood drains from my skin, and a wave of nausea crests over me. My ears ring. It’s got to be my spirit guide, screaming at me, confirming what I already suspect. But I have to know I’m right and not misunderstanding. I clear my throat and force the words through my constricted throat. “What did that mean?” My voice cracks.

Miss Delia’s mouth turns down. “Your boy is doomed.”

Chapter Nineteen

The kitchen is suddenly scorching, filled with dense, humid air that stinks of stale incense. My mouth dries, and my tongue hangs like a piece of old shoe leather. Another wave of nausea rises. I’ve got to get out of here before I throw up all over Miss Delia’s counter.

Despite my exhaustion, I spring off the stool, charge through the kitchen and side porch, then bolt out the screen door into the garden. Tipping over, I brace my hands against my knees. But it doesn’t stop the queasy jolt of electricity that rushes over my body and dumps my lunch on a sweet lavender bush. Another, more powerful charge grips me, emptying the rest of my stomach. I catch a whiff of the mess and stumble backward to keep from dry heaving. My foot catches on something, tossing me on my butt, smack in the middle of another scratchy lavender plant.

High above, the endless crystal-blue sky looms, mocking my insignificance. I suddenly realize how vulnerable I am—outside by myself, just steps from where the
plateye
retreated after it attacked Miss Delia and me. Normally that would be enough to send me straight back into the house, but not now. It was bad enough that my brother—my
twin—
contracted the most horrific curse imaginable. But now I know that my Cooper—my sweet, adorable, kind Cooper—is destined to lose his soul in a matter of weeks. And then he’ll morph into a dark-hearted, egocentric, repulsive glutton. Just like his father. The Cooper I know and love will be gone forever.

Hot, stinging tears pour from my eyes. The scrubby lavender scratches my bare skin, but I don’t flinch. I’m too overwhelmed by the knowledge that the two most important people in my life are doomed. Maybe Jack’s got a chance, thanks to Miss Delia and the magic mortar, but assuming we do reverse The Creep, how will we live without Cooper? He’s Jack’s best friend. He’s my summer, the golden sunlight that warms my otherwise cold and lonely year. I won’t be able to face him when he turns. And I know Jack won’t accept his change. We won’t be like our dad, who’s taken a lifetime of Beau’s crap out of a perverted sense of loyalty.

Anger boils in my gut, giving me a boost of energy to fight the hoodoo-induced fatigue. It’s not fair. Jack and Cooper don’t deserve this, and I don’t deserve to lose them. Sure, Jack was greedy wanting the treasure, but that doesn’t mean he should lose his skin and bones, and maybe even his life because of it. And Cooper shouldn’t be punished for something some random ancestor did almost three hundred years ago. I sniff and wipe the goopy mixture of tears and snot from my face. There has to be something we can do. If the
Psychic Vision
was right, and Sabina really did curse the Beaumont men with black magic, then Miss Delia and I should be able to counteract it by working a white magic spell.

The thought quiets my throbbing head. I sit up straighter.

The knife is the key. It knows what happened and why Sabina cursed Cooper’s family. Maybe it knows how she cursed them, too. We need to pull another memory. I push myself off the ground and fly back to Miss Delia’s kitchen with my fists clenched, determined to get the information I need and force both curses to obey my will. They’re not going to steal Jack and Cooper from me.

Miss Delia starts when the back door slams behind me. “Lord, child, you scared me.” She has shut off the faucet and is wearing her giant goggle glasses while poring over her spell book. “You feeling better?”

I plop down on the stool next to her and hope she doesn’t smell the puke on my breath. “Yeah. Listen, we can’t just let this happen to Cooper. There’s got to be something we can do. I’ve got an idea.”

She runs her gnarled finger down the page. “Shhh, I’m way ahead of you. There ought to be something in this here book that’ll help us.” She taps the yellowed page. “See this list of my ancestors? The very first name my great-gran could remember was Saba. I’m wondering if she’s the Sabina we saw in the vision. You know, names handed down for fifteen generations are bound to get mixed up a bit. The old stories claimed Saba worked a powerful black magic revenge spell. From what I saw in that vision, Sabina was getting back at a whole bunch of people.”

“She was pretty psychotic—cursing a whole family and turning people into skeletons. What could they have done to make her so angry?”

Miss Delia removes her glasses and pats my hand. “People are capable of unspeakable things. At my age, you’d think I’d have seen it all by now, but I’m still surprised by our evil.” She purses her lips and shakes her snowy head. “I don’t doubt Sabina had cause to do what she did. Root workers don’t turn to black magic easily.”

“But all we have to do is work some white magic to reverse it, right?” My voice rises with hope as the lessons from my hoodoo training fall into place.

She nods. “Yes, white magic is what we need. But it’s got to be the right spell.”

“So let’s fire up the mortar again and pull another memory.” Defying the extreme weariness that threatens to overwhelm me, I reach for some charcoal chips to create another fire.

She gently lays her hand on mine. “Not today, child.”

My brow creases. “What? Why not? It knows the answers we need.”

“The knife needs to rest. So does the mortar. And so do we. We’ve worked a bunch of charms today. It’s too much.”

Fury bubbles in my stomach once again. “That’s ridiculous!” My voice rises, and the space between my eyes pinches. I know it’s not her fault, but I’m so mad at Sabina and her stupid curses, I can’t help it. “I’m sick of waiting. It’s just a knife and a hunk of stone. They don’t need to rest. They need to tell us how to save my brother and Cooper
now
.” Forcing my eyes to stay open, I add, “And I’m fine. I’ll just sleep in tomorrow.”

Her brow softens in sympathy. “I know you want your answers, child. But we must wait.”

“Why?” Tears sting my eyes.

She sighs. “Because even if we were both at our top strength, ripping a memory from an object is traumatic, especially if it’s filled with as much anger and hatred as that one was. That knife needs time to settle and regroup, cleanse itself of all that negative energy. If we take another memory before it’s ready, it’s liable to break apart, and we’ll never get what we need.”

“Okay, then forget Cooper’s curse for now. We can still use the mortar to break The Creep, can’t we? That’s what we brought it here for, right?” I reach for the charcoal chips.

She grasps my wrist with more vigor than I thought she had. “Emma, you’re not hearing me. The mortar was disturbed by the dark energy in that vision, too. It needs to set awhile.” The crinkles in her forehead smooth, but her eyes are still serious. “It’s already cracked. I won’t have it split apart now, not after I just got it back.” She places her palms against the stony mortar, then flinches as if she’s been shocked. “If you don’t believe me, you can feel for yourself. It’s crackling with anger. If you push it, it’ll be destroyed.”

My shoulders sink, and I rest my aching head in my hand. She’s right, but I don’t have to be happy about it. “No, I believe you.”

She puts her glasses on and turns back to the spell book. “Besides, you’re getting ahead of yourself. Sabina said she cast The Creep. And we know she had that knife. When it’s ready, we’ll sort everything out. You just need a little more patience. In the meantime, I’ll work on figuring out what was in that powder Sabina tossed on that poor woman and child. Whatever it was, it was mighty powerful. Maybe I can come up with an antidote.”

I pick at a crescent-shaped scorch stain on the counter with my other hand. Normally the idea of a possible antidote would perk me up, but it barely registers now. I keep replaying the vision in my head—Sabina’s scarred face and the glint in her eye as she cursed an entire family for eternity. “Lady Rose was pretty surprised when Sabina threw that baby at her. Although I don’t think she believed in Sabina’s magic.”

Miss Delia scoffs. “I’m sure she changed her mind when the babe became a man. Sabina’s power was strong. He must have caused a mess of trouble.” She shakes her head. “You said you knew the mother?”

“Oh, not really. I’ve only seen her freaky portrait in the drawing room at High Point Bluff. Believe me, those scary bug eyes and giant forehead are impossible to forget. Beau makes everyone look at it and tell him how beautiful she was.”

She shakes her head and chuckles, but her laugh has a sad, pitiful ring. “We Gullah knew there was something wrong up there. Something dark and depraved. That’s why none of us have set foot on that plantation since we were set free.”

Something niggles at the back of my brain. “Miss Delia, how can someone live without their soul?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know, child. The Gullah believe we have both a soul and a spirit. When we die, the soul moves on to heaven, but the spirit stays behind to help our loved ones who are still alive. Perhaps it’s possible to live with only one of these, perhaps not. Maybe it’s a mystery we’re not meant to understand.”

My mind races, thinking of Cooper and how he’ll change. Hot tears well in my eyes once again.

She reaches out and pats my hand. “We’ll see what we can do to spare your boy. Now I need some time to rest and think on this antidote. Why don’t you take those young men of yours home and come back in a few days? The mortar and knife should be ready for another go ’round by then.”

A few days? For real? By then the tips of Jack’s fingers could be dried out, and he’ll have lost more flesh. Not to mention, Cooper will be that much closer to sixteen. My shoulders sag, and my stomach churns. But it won’t do me any good to argue with her. Once she’s made up her mind, it’s locked solid. Plus she’s right about needing to rest. I’m so wiped, I bet I could sleep for a month.

I inhale and suppress the tangled knot of fury and despair that chokes my throat. “Okay. I’ll see you then.” A sob threatens as I slip off the stool and slink toward the swinging kitchen door. “You have my cell phone number in case you need me before then.” When she was sick, I found her only phone hooked up in her bedroom.

“Uh-huh,” she murmurs without lifting her eyes from the book. “Take care now.”

I cross the living room and pause to regroup before opening the screen door. Jack and Cooper are sitting on the bench under the bottle tree, just as Miss Delia told them. They’re laughing, elbowing each other in the ribs and chucking pebbles into the woods. Cooper must have convinced Jack we’d fix him before his bones turned to dust and floated away with the wind. As far as they’re concerned, it’s only a matter of time before Miss Delia and I break The Creep and set everything right.

They have no idea what she and I just saw, what we know, and how bad things are about to get. I doubt I can even find the words to explain it all. How do you tell your best friend, the unrequited love of your life, that he’s about to lose his soul? And even if I do find a way to tell him, I’m not sure I can handle the aftershock. Because I know one thing for sure: Cooper would rather die than turn into his father. And to be honest, I’m not sure Jack and I could survive watching that happen, either.

As much as I wish I could, I can’t hide this from him. He deserves to know the truth.

I gulp and step out onto the front porch and let the dark blue doorframe slam behind me. Forcing one foot in front of the other, I make my way down the steps and through the herb garden.

Cooper stops mid-chuckle when he sees me, and his eyes turn down. “Are you okay?” His voice is soft and caring. Someday soon it’ll be callous and indifferent.

Dread oozes over me, trickling from my scalp all the way down to the tips of my toenails. I have to keep this simple and straightforward. Just stick to the facts. I can’t wallow in all the gory implications. He’ll figure them out on his own.

I gulp back the welling tears.

Before I can form any words, Cooper pushes off the bench and rushes to my side. “What’s wrong, Emmaline?” He wraps his hand around my shoulder and rubs the top of my arm. Even though I tossed the
gris-gris
bag, he’s still obviously stricken by its effects. “You look like you’ve been crying. Is Miss Delia all right? Did we get the wrong mortar?”

Ugh. My face is probably as puffy as a pincushion. I should have splashed it with cold water before I came out here. I’ve got to tell him now. I shake my head and try to force the words from my locked throat, but it’s no use. They’re stuck and lodged deep in my burning chest. My mind races as I grope for something to say. This is so not how I wanted this to go. I was supposed to downplay the catastrophe, not emphasize it.

Jack rolls his eyes. “Come on, Emo, knock it off and just spill it. It’s obvious you haven’t broken the curse yet.” He lifts his gloved hand in my direction.

“I…um…well, you see…” I gnaw my bottom lip and twist away from Jack’s piercing stare, only to be caught by Cooper’s tender gaze. His pale aquamarine eyes are so sympathetic, so gentle, I’m not sure I can bring myself to tell him and shatter everything he thinks he knows about himself and what the future holds. How can I darken that light?

An odd, electric tingle flutters in my chest. Maybe there’s a chance I won’t have to. There’s still time before he turns sixteen, and Miss Delia could come up with an antidote.

Maybe I’ll wait to tell him when I have to. If I have to.