Conjure (23 page)

Chapter Thirty-one

Before heading to the Big House to set up for Missy’s hurricane party, we take a torturously quiet trip to Miss Delia’s so I can whip up a few potions and get things ready for tonight. The windshield wipers provide the only sound as Cooper drives in stony silence, his square jaw set and fingers clenched around the steering wheel, fighting the increasingly strong winds. Jack ignores me, too, but my twin sense tells me he’s not angry with me, just supporting Cooper. I can’t fault him. I just rocked Cooper’s world, and not in a good way. He may be done with me as a girlfriend, but I hope he’ll find a way to forgive me, so at least we can still be friends.

When we get to Miss Delia’s, Jack and Cooper wait in the station wagon while I rummage through her kitchen, assembling everything I’ll need tonight. Luckily, Miss Delia’s already stockpiled some of the white magic charms I’ll need to counteract Sabina’s black magic, but there’s one I have to blend myself in the ancestors’ mortar. Miss Delia’s spell book lists several
Mind Confusion
recipes with similar ingredients, so I figure it can’t hurt to combine them all to create an extra strong concoction. We have to befuddle everyone at the party.

Even though I took a cleansing bath this morning, I dab my wrists and neck with the citronella oil and rub my
collier
for luck before getting started. It’s impossible to avoid sniffing a little of the powder as I grind the red and black pepper, mustard seeds, salt, and dauber dirt together. The spicy mixture burns my nose, and I sneeze, then cough up a little of the gray powder. It’s not until I add the poppy seeds and sulfur powder that the fatigue kicks in and I start to feel woozy.

Disoriented, I survey the kitchen. What am I doing here? And why am I so incredibly tired? My gaze settles on a list in my handwriting. I focus hard, trying to make out what I’ve written. Hmm…a
Mind Confusion
spell.

Scratching my head, I sense it means something important. But what? I sink onto a stool, lay my head on the counter, and battle the drowsiness to search my memory. As I sneeze a few more times, a faint idea glimmers, then sharpens until the whole mission floods back.

I shake my head and sit up straight. Holy cow, this is powerful stuff! It’ll be perfect as long as I can get out of this house without losing my mind or zonking out. I’ll have to remember not to get too close to it tonight.

Yanking my shirt up over my nose to keep from breathing in the potion, I find a plastic container and resealable lid to transport it. After I’ve tidied the kitchen and wiped down the mortar with a wet cloth, I toss the spells and other equipment I’ll need into my messenger bag and head out.

Ducking my head, I jump off the front porch steps, dodge the increasingly heavy rain and blustery winds, and rush toward the car. Racing through the garden, I nearly trip on Bloody Bill’s dagger, which is still stuck in the ground, a sad reminder of our argument with Maggie. My right hand twitches, vibrating with a subtle electric current. I stop short, getting drenched, and focus on my hand to make sure I didn’t imagine the odd sensation. It zings again, this time, stinging a little as it radiates through my palm. Okay, okay, I get it. Yanking the blade from the dirt, I chuck it in the bag and dart to the car, throw open the back door, and dive into the backseat.

“Got everything?” Jack asks.

Cooper’s staring out the front window, a blank expression on his face.

I wipe my soaked hair off my face. “I’ve got the spells, but we need the ancestors’ mortar.”

Jack huffs. “Are you kidding me?”

“No, I’ll need a tarp from Dad’s workshop, too, and we’ll have to set them up on the dunes between the beach and the tabby ruins. If that’s not too much to ask.”

“That thing is way too heavy for me to carry,” Jack whines. “Plus I’m not allowed in Miss Delia’s house, remember?”

I shrug. “You’re not the only one who can carry it, are you?”

Seriously, I might have broken Cooper’s heart, and we might not be on speaking terms, but he’s still got to help.

Without a word, Cooper throws open his door and slams it behind him, then runs through the garden, up Miss Delia’s front porch, and into the house.

“He’s pissed,” Jack says.

“You think?” I can’t worry about it now. There’s too much to do and too little time. I’m just glad we never told Jack about us. It saves me a lot of explaining.

A minute later, Cooper crosses the porch, the granite mortar gripped between his strong hands, and staggers back to the car. I open the back door, and he heaves it onto the seat next to me.

After making the trip out to the ruins to drop off the tarp and mortar, we finally arrive at High Point Bluff. It’s later than we expected, but there’s still plenty of time to set up for the party. Missy meets us in the grand foyer as we’re drying off. She’s less than pleased.

“Where’ve y’all been?” She crosses her arms over her canary-yellow tube dress and smacks her gum behind cherry-red lips, which are the exact same color as the ruby necklace. “My guests will be arriving soon, and I expected your help.”

Cooper steps in front of Jack and me. “We had a few errands to run. But we’re here now, and everything will be fine.” He forces his lips into a smile.

She taps her stilettoed foot, which matches her dress perfectly. I didn’t know they could dye shoes that shade of yellow. It’s so…electric. She hitches her brow. “I hope so. This’ll be the party of the summer, and I don’t want it messed up.”

Jack nods. “It’ll be great, ma’am. I bet people will be talking about it for years.” His eyes twinkle as he nudges Cooper in the side.

“Yes.” Cooper suppresses a grin. “Why don’t you go and get ready, Missy? We’ll take it from here.”

Her eyes narrow in disdain. “I am ready, sonny boy.” She tosses her platinum hair and rolls her heavily made-up eyes. Her gaze settles on Jack and me as she fiddles with the enormous stone around her neck. “You’re not wearing that to my party, are you?”

Jack and I look down at our clothes. He’s thrown a polo shirt over his rash guard and dug out his khaki shorts. They’re the nicest summer clothes he’s got. My peasant blouse and bohemian skirt aren’t exactly rags, either. We’re wet, but we’ll dry soon enough.

“Um, is there something wrong with these?” I ask.

She chomps her gum. “Not if you’re a guest, but you’re the help.” A wry grin creeps across her face. “I figured we’d run into this problem, so I had the caterers drop off some uniforms for you. You’ll find them in the kitchen along with the food.” She snaps her fingers twice. “Come with me, Ella, and I’ll show you what needs being done.”

Cooper glares. “Her name is
Emma
.” Our eyes meet, and his soften as his mouth turns down. My heart soars. Maybe he doesn’t completely hate me.

Missy laughs as she spins on her heels. “Uh-huh, whatever, Cooper. Bring your little friend into the great room so he can help his daddy set up. Then he needs to change, too. And for God’s sake, tell him to take off that nasty swim shirt.” She then curls her finger, motioning me to follow as she sashays down the hall like a giant swaying banana.

She brings me to the kitchen where caterers have dropped off trays of Mexican food and points to a white, long-sleeved, button-down shirt and black polyester pants. “Put those on, then set up the chafing dishes for the fajitas. I want them to be nice and hot when the guests show up. And don’t forget the
queso
. My Beau loves his spicy cheese.” She walks to the kitchen door but pauses before leaving. “Thanks, Edna.” She winks.

Oh, it’ll be hot, all right. The peppers, mustard, and poppy in the
Mind Confusion
powder should add more than a kick to tonight’s menu. With the rain pounding against the kitchen windows, I change into the waitress costume, then cover my mouth and nose as I mix the potion into the dips and hot sauces and sprinkle it on the fajitas. The only thing spared is the tortilla chips.

A bowl of blood oranges is tucked into the corner on the kitchen counter. The sun’s blood could mean orange juice, specifically the juice of a blood orange.

I hover my hand above the oranges. It doesn’t tingle. My spirit guide must not be interested. But I’m nearly out of time, and it’s the best idea I’ve got. I might as well make some juice in case it comes in handy later. I pull Bloody Bill’s knife from my bag, wash off the dirt from Miss Delia’s garden, then slice into the dark red flesh and squeeze enough juice to fill one of the empty vials in my bag. I’m still not sure what to do about the blood of the moon. Maybe it’s got something to do with the tides. If so, we can always collect a little seawater.

Jack enters the kitchen as I’m cleaning off the knife. He parks himself in front of the food and drools. “Oh, man, I’m starved. You mind if I grab some?” He snatches a plate and reaches for some grilled steak.

“No!” I drop the knife in the sink and lunge for the fork in his hand. “You can’t eat that. It’s got the…you know.” I waggle my brows.

He stares at me, rubbing his growling stomach, then finally catches on. “Oh, yeah. Right. I didn’t want any of that, anyway. I mean, who eats Mexican food at a Fourth of July party?” He leans in and whispers in my ear. “Is that stuff safe to eat?”

I wince, biting my bottom lip. “Um, most of it. Probably.” He laughs as I dry off the knife and return it to my bag. A little clear vial at the bottom catches my eye. “Hey, what kind of drinks is Missy serving?”

“Margaritas, why?”

I grab my trusty
Four Thieves Vinegar
and hand it to him. I remember that one of its side effects can be confusion. Perfect. “Slip this into the tequila while Dad’s not looking. It should help speed things along.”

I put some
Mind Confusion
powder in my pocket, then leave him to change into his uniform while I set up the buffet in the great room. I pass through the library with a fajita tray, sprinkling a little powder as I go, and avoid Lady Rose’s portrait as usual. Her eyes cling to me as I cross the room, beckoning and making my neck itch, until I can’t resist a peek. Yep, those bug eyes still stare out from her ghastly gray skin and super high forehead. But for the first time, I notice something deeper in the portrait. She’s not freaky in a look-at-the-scary-lady kind of way. She’s haunted, traumatized, and now I know why. She watched her husband fall apart from The Creep, then witnessed Sabina’s prophecy come true as her only child lost his soul and turned dark and corrupt. After all that, I’d probably look that bad, too. Maybe worse.

I round the corner to the great room and pause to take in the impressive view of St. Helena Island Sound. Normally the golden South Carolina sun hangs in a dazzling blue sky, dancing off the tranquil inlet waters. Not today. The sky’s a harsh slate gray, and the churning Sound is nearly black. The tide’s higher than I’ve ever seen it, with choppy swells that break in chaotic white caps far off the shore. Rain pelts the huge panoramic windows, and squalls bend the surrounding trees. Battery-operated lanterns line the room for when the electricity inevitably cuts off.

Dad’s at the bar, wearing a similar uniform, but his includes a black vest and bow tie. “Hey, Em, how’s it going? You need some help?” His brow is creased as his gaze shoots toward the windows. I know he’d rather they be boarded up with plywood, or at least secured with duct tape, but that would ruin Missy’s majestic view of the storm.

I shake my head and set the tray in a chafing dish. “Nah, I got it.” As much as I hate including him in this spell, there’s no getting around it. I just hope he doesn’t have any food or drinks. Missy’s probably already banned him from having some, anyway.

Jack walks into the room in his uniform and golf glove.

Dad laughs. “Well, look at you! I don’t believe I’ve seen you dressed alike since you were babies.” He chuckles. “Of course, Emma isn’t wearing that silly glove you’ve grown so fond of.”

“It’s only because of my poison ivy, remember?” Jack says. “I didn’t think Missy would want me oozing all over her guests.”

Dad winces. “Yeah, that wouldn’t be best. Well, glove or not, you two look great. I ought to take a picture of you.”

I roll my eyes. “Right, because we want to immortalize this hot fashion trend.” Jack and I laugh.

“I’m serious.” Dad pats his pants pockets. “Where’s my cell phone? Oh, it’s in the other room. I’ll be right back. You two stay put.”

As soon as he’s gone, Jack darts to the bar and empties the
Four Thieves Vinegar
into the nearly full bottle of tequila while I keep watch.

Cooper carries in another fajita tray and sets it in the second chafing dish.

The doorbell rings, heralding the arrival of the first guests.

“We ready?” Cooper asks, but doesn’t make eye contact with me.

I nod. “Ready as we’ll ever be.”

Chapter Thirty-two

Before Missy brings in the first of her guests, I click the salsa playlist on her iPod, then race to the kitchen to get the rest of the food and set it up in the great room. I’m in charge of the buffet, and Jack’s the drink runner, so he’ll spread most of the powder.

A gaggle of wind-blown Missy clones and their decrepit husbands saunter in just as I’ve finished. Cooper sits in a corner chair, doing his best to ignore them while Jack takes their drink orders. Beau grunts his way to a sofa and slaps his lap. Missy jumps at his cue, perching herself on his enormous thigh and twiddling with the ruby necklace.

“It’s going to be a fantastic night, y’all!” Missy gleams in a sparkly red-white-and-blue top hat. She gestures toward the windows and cracks her gum. “While everyone else is huddled in a horrible evacuation shelter, we’re partying in style. There’s plenty of food for our fiesta, so eat up!” She snaps and points to Jack. “Jake, I’m parched, and my hand’s empty!”

Jack grabs a margarita from the bar and places it in her outstretched hand. We exchange worried glances as she sips, but rather than spitting it out, she smiles. “Mmm, that’s tasty! Keep them coming!”

Between taking orders for the waves of arriving guests and delivering drinks for those already here, it doesn’t take Jack long to spread his potion around the room. I make a few unnecessary trips as well to empty the spell from my own pocket. Soon every guest has a drink, and most have moved through the buffet line, taking a heaping plate of hoodoo-laced Mexican food. Before he sits down to eat, Beau pulls one of the men off to the side. The man nervously downs his drink in one gulp. I motion to Jack to get him a refill.

Missy pouts. “Now, Beau you promised not to talk business tonight.”

Beau smiles. “I’ll only be a second, possum. Mr. Johnson and I have some important matters to discuss.”

She cocks her head and crosses her arms. “What could be more important than our friends, sweetness?” She huffs. “No one wants to hear about your boring land deals.”

His eyes narrow into snake-like slits. “Those land deals afford the lifestyle to which you’ve so quickly become accustomed, my dear.” He flashes a menacing smile. “Without them, you’d be back in that lovely double-wide. But you needn’t worry, I won’t be bothering my friend about a Beaumont Builders’ development.” He slaps the man’s shoulder. “Mr. Johnson runs the King Center which was robbed this summer. As one of their largest donors, I’m interested in their security upgrades. We can’t have people carting off valuable artifacts willy-nilly, leaving us no clues to catch them, now can we, Johnson?” Beau lumbers down the main hall, into his private study, with his anxious party guest in tow. Beau slams the door shut.

My heart skips a beat as Jack and I exchange nervous looks. Cooper slumps in his chair and covers his face with his hand. I offer a silent prayer that Beau’s right, and there isn’t any way to link us to the crime.

One of Missy’s friends, an equally blonde and bejeweled twenty-something, gasps. “A burglary? At the King Center? What’s next, our houses?” She swigs the last of her margarita. Jack rushes to replace it.

A few guests get up from their seats and wander around the room, staring at pillows, a lamp, and the terra cotta wall paint. One plays with the stereo, increasing the volume and drowning out the howl of the beating wind and rain. I swallow a snicker, delighted the charm’s kicking in.

Missy nods. “I hope not, Bunny. As you can see, we’ve got so many valuables here at High Point Bluff, we’d be a natural target for robbers.” She downs her margarita and shakes her empty glass. “Oh, Jared, where’s my refill?” Jack springs up to replenish her glass.

Bunny empties her plate, then comes up to the buffet for more salsa and chips. “Of course you would, Missy. They’d especially love to steal that gorgeous necklace of yours.” She scratches her head and surveys the buffet table, her eyes filled with uncertainty.

I spoon an extra large serving of salsa on her plate. She scoops it up with a chip and swallows it whole, then walks aimlessly to a different couch and plops down, draping her arm around another woman’s husband. Several more guests shift in their seats, their eyes filled with vacant stares.

Missy swallows the last of her fajita and rubs the ruby. “You’re right, Bunny. I never thought of that.” She gulps her second margarita in one long mouthful, then sways on the couch and grips her forehead. “You know, I never take it off.” Her eyes stretch wide, and her voice quiets to a whisper. “If a robber wanted it, he’d probably kill me to get it.” She rakes her acrylic fingernails through her hair, mussing it, and slides off the couch onto the floor.

Since no one seems to notice the hostess’s condition, the potion’s got to be in full force. Everyone is in their own confused world, including Dad, who’s drooped on a stool behind the bar, his head propped in his hands and muttering to himself. It’s time to strike.

I nod at Jack, then Cooper, who rises from his chair in the corner and scooches next to Missy on the Oriental carpet. “You’re right, Missy,” Cooper says. “That necklace is putting your life at risk.”

She tilts her head to the side and nods. “Yes. Bad guys. Danger.” She grabs her plate off the end table, scoops a handful of hoodoo guacamole with her fingers, and shoves it in her mouth.

Cooper forces back a laugh. “I’d hate to see something bad happen to you because of that silly ruby.”

Missy sticks out her tongue and laps at the green dip that’s smeared around her lips and cheek. “Me, too.” Then she crawls on her hands and knees to the coffee table to down someone else’s margarita. “What do you think I should do?” she whispers.

Cooper balls his fists, undoubtedly still uncomfortable with what he’s about to do, but forges ahead. “You should put it away for safekeeping.”

She nods. “Yes. But where? They’ll take it if it’s at High Point Bluff.” She wrenches the chain around and fumbles with the clasp. It falls open, dangling from her swerving hand.

He gulps and opens his palm. “I’m sure I can find a good place for you.”

“Thanks a lot, Coopie.” She drops it in his waiting hand, then pokes the tip of his nose. “You’re cute.” Then she lies down, rubbing her guacamole-caked cheek against the silk carpet. “Don’t let the bad guys get me.”

Cooper slinks back toward the door while Jack crouches next to her. “Remember, it’s a secret hiding place, so you can’t tell anyone what you did with the necklace.”

“Uh-huh.” She nods, tracing the rug’s pattern with her finger. “What necklace?”

Jack snorts. “Never mind. There is no necklace. Forget I said anything.” He backs up, grabs one of the lanterns, and joins me and Cooper at the archway to the foyer.

“Okay.” She hums to the mariachi music on the stereo.

Jack turns and slaps Cooper’s arm. “Come on, Coopie. Let’s go bust some curses.”