Allure (The Hoodoo Apprentice #2) (Entangled Teen) (25 page)

“There are a few things you don’t understand. They didn’t leave me. I enjoyed killing them just as I will enjoy killing you, too.” It gleams a toothless grin, then lunges for her, snatching her by the throat with both three-fingered hands. Missy’s feet dangle above the cushy white carpet.

Missy’s skin flushes as she chokes and gasps for air. She reaches out her right hand, fumbling for the pirate’s knife that Beau set on the console table next to the bottle of scotch.

The boo hag extends its massive, square jaw, and turns on its vacuum suction. Missy shudders and her eyes roll up in to her head as the boo hag sucks her life force from her body. A curling white mist floats out of her nose and mouth and inches toward the gaping hole in the boo hag’s face.

Missy’s fingertips graze the knife’s wooden hilt. Stretching another half inch, she grabs the dagger and plunges it into the boo hag’s side. A few drops of black sludge spatter the rug.

The boo hag shrieks. It’s red eyes flash with eerie, crimson light. Clutching her throat tighter, it launches into the air in a rage, careening through the sitting area and into the master bath, leaving a trickle of blood along its path. It slams her head against a tile wall. She reaches for the knife again, but the boo hag pulls the blade from its side, releasing a gush of chunky, black muck that sprays Missy’s nightie and smatters the floor. Opening its mouth once again, the boo hag sucks harder than before, consuming Missy’s life force in one smooth gulp. Her face falls slack and her eyes turn empty and blind.

The boo hag drops her lifeless body on the floor then clutches its side where the knife slit its crimson skin. Hobbling back to the sitting area, it sets the knife down on the carpet and reaches for Beau’s skin. It slides its long, thin, legs into Beau’s rubbery mouth, and pulls the skin up over its red, meaty body like a flesh-colored wet suit. Yanking Beau’s face up over its own, it snaps the elastic skin into place, adjusting Beau’s eye sockets and maneuvering his nose into place. Finally, it pumps Beau’s jaw, slipping it into place.

With a grunt, the boo hag in the Beau suit bends over and wipes the knife on the carpet. Wincing, it clutches its cut right side, which must be bleeding inside Beau’s skin. It rises to its feet, snatches the tumbler from the coffee table and staggers to the console holding the bottle of scotch in one hand, the dagger in the other. After it pours a giant helping, it gulps the amber liquid, then slams the glass down next to the bottle.

“Just a few more weeks, old boy. Then you’ll be sixteen and carefree once again. And still very, very rich,” it says aloud in Beau’s familiar southern accent and then laughs. A wet, mucusy sound rattles in its chest, causing it to cough. It winces again and gropes its side.

When the wave of pain seems to have passed, it grabs the cane with one hand and shambles to the door, holding tight to the knife.

The vision pulls back, clouding over. Sparks shoot up in the ancestors’ mortar, and then die out, stifling the incense screen and dispersing the smoke.

I shake my foggy head to focus on Jack and Cooper. They’re both as white as marble, revealing the same horror that’s gripping my chest.

Cooper’s eyes meet mine. They’re filled with crushing pain and utter betrayal. “My dad’s a boo hag.”

Chapter Thirty

C
ooper races out of the crypt.

Jack opens his mouth to speak, but no words come. How could they? There are no words to describe the awful brutality we just witnessed, to say nothing about the vision’s implications, which are so multilayered and bizarre, my brain’s about to break.

How could I have been so wrong? After Missy died, there was a moment I suspected Beau was involved. But then Claude showed up pulling his super-creepy, black magic routine and I got distracted. It looks like Miss Delia was right after all—Claude just wants to wedge himself between Taneea and her, though I don’t understand why.

The horrific truth is that
Beau is a genuine monster. A serial killer of sorts who not only kills for sustenance but also because it appears to enjoy it. And he’s gunning for Cooper next. He never liked his father, but that doesn’t make this news any less excruciating.

And then there’s the whole marriage-destiny thing the Beau-boo hag let slip to Missy. Cooper and me? Married? As in forever? Cripes, I’m only fourteen. I’ve been with him for a little over a month. How the heck am I supposed to process a fated, eternal commitment?

Jack pushes himself off the floor. “I need some air. Hoodoo’s cool, but its a good thing I’m not the root worker. I don’t think I could handle it.” He staggers toward the door, clearly still under the tea’s woozy effects.

Knowing I shouldn’t leave them alone, I force myself up and drag my groggy body through the crypt. It’s pouring and the sky is a sickly chartreuse, that strange yellow-green-gray that only happens during summer storms. Thick fog hugs the ground and envelops their legs. If I didn’t know the mist was caused by the cool rain moisturizing the scorching air, I’d be freaked.

Jack’s bent over, his hands leaning against his knees. His cheeks are puffed out, and he’s dragging deep breaths through his nose.

Water streams down Cooper’s face as he stares at the sky. It’s probably just precipitation, but it could just as easily be tears. No one could possibly blame him for bawling his eyes out.

Fighting fatigue, I walk to his side. “Are you okay?”

“My father isn’t my father. He never really was, was he?” he asks without turning away from the sky.

I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”

He meets my gaze. “The boo hag must have killed him when he was sixteen. Just like it wants to do to me now.”

“That’s what it sounds like.” There’s no use in sugarcoating it. That thing has an ugly agenda that it’s not likely to forget.

“And it probably killed my mother, just like it killed Missy. And tried to kill you last night.”

My body quakes as I remember how awful the mind suck was. I’ve done a good job repressing the sheer terror of my contorted memories, but after seeing what happened to Missy, I realize I was lucky. The boo hag only inhaled me for a few seconds and I retained my sanity. Missy wasn’t as fortunate. No wonder she was so demented she couldn’t brush her own hair and thought it was okay to destroy her home. The creature literally drove her mad.

Jack straightens and swallows hard. “That thing said it’s been at this for almost three hundred years. If that’s true, it must have killed every one of the Beaumonts since Sabina cast those first curses.”

I gasp as a missing piece finally clicks into place. “That’s why it wants the ruby back. Somehow its power is wrapped up with the Beaumont Curse.”

“But we destroyed the stone,” Jack says.

“The boo hag doesn’t know that. It thinks I’ve got it. We can use that to our advantage,” Cooper says, a steely glint in his eyes.

It’s the first ray of hope I’ve felt all day.

Jack’s shoulders ease. “That monster’s going to be surprised when it finds out Cooper’s mom turned it into heap of flower petals.”

Cooper’s mouth bends into a determined grin. “It’ll be more than surprised. That thing stole my parents from me and destroyed my entire family. I’m going to kill it or die trying.” His voice is as grim as the expression on his face.

“My vote is that you don’t die,” Jack says.

Cooper hitches his brow. “Mine too.”

Jack turns to me. “So how do we make that happen? Cooper’s birthday is tomorrow so it’s probably planning a move tonight. We don’t have much time to plan.”

I draw a deep breath. “Well, for starters, Miss Delia said we’ve got to figure out where it hides its skin when it goes out at night, then salt it down so it can’t climb back in. What’s the most likely place the boo hag would store Beau’s skin?”

A lightbulb goes off in my head. Apparently the same thing happens to Jack and Cooper because they both turn to me at the same time. “Beau’s study!” we say in unison.

…

We spend the rest of the afternoon and evening at the caretaker’s
cottage waiting for the sun to set and darkness to roll in. When the clock strikes ten, we head out for the Big House, hoping the boo hag has shed Beau’s skin and gone out for the night.

The sky’s a deep, dusky purple, darkened by thick, opaque clouds that obscure the stars. The only light comes from the full moon that casts an eerie silver-white glow through the haze.

We trek down the path, trying to make as little noise as possible. The Big House comes into view. My heart clenches. Every light in the house is on. Which means Beau has been around. And may even be in there right now. There’s only one way to find out.

Cooper opens the front door. My ears prick, on alert for any indication that we’re not alone. The foyer is silent. Even the air seems to hang still. We tiptoe toward the main hall, then stop short at the corner and listen for any sound. There’s only silence. We crane our necks to peek at the door to Beau’s private study.

It’s shut. A sliver of light shines through the crack above the floor.

Taking a deep breath, Cooper paces down the hall with me and Jack at his heels. At the door, Cooper holds up his fist to knock. He freezes midair, as if he’s afraid to follow though.

I can’t blame him. His life, or death, could be waiting for him in there.

“You can do this, Coop. We’ve got your back,” Jack whispers.

Cooper nods, then pounds his fist, hard and fast.

There’s no hiding now. If the boo hag’s in there, it knows we’re out here.

No sound comes from behind the door. Cooper waits another moment before pounding again. “Dad?”

Jack nods at Cooper.

Together, they ram their shoulders into the mahogany door, pounding until they break it in. Finally, it slams against the wall with a
thud
.

If Beau’s in here, we’re so screwed.

But the room is empty. And except for the window that’s wide open and the curtain blowing in the cool evening breeze, it’s perfectly still. Just an ordinary office filled with ordinary office furniture.

We race inside, scanning the floor for the rubbery Beau suit. It’s nowhere in sight.

“Maybe it’s hidden.” Jack sprints across the room to the closet. He yanks open the door, but his chest caves at the shelves lined with copier paper and other supplies, and boxes filled with old tax returns.

Cooper tugs open the deep side drawers of the desk. I’m not exactly sure Beau would file his suit away, but I suppose it’s worth a try.

Once Jack’s satisfied that the closet isn’t a Beau suit storage unit, he gets down on his hands and knees to search under the sofa and arm chairs.

I spin my messenger bag around to my back and start on the file cabinet across the room beneath the open window. My eyes are drawn to the nearby glass-enclosed shelves that display the hundreds of artifacts from High Point Bluff. My fingers prick as I scan the tangible history of the Beaumont family. Before tonight, I knew this plantation was tainted by its involvement in slavery and its male progeny cursed for what Edmund Beaumont and a band of wicked pirates did to an enslaved African girl. But now, after the
Psychic Vision
, I realize High Point Bluff’s story is much more dismal than I ever imagined. After the Beaumont men lost their souls, a horrible boo hag exploited their bodies’ vulnerability and possessed their flesh once they came of age. And, if Clarissa, Missy, and Beau’s other two wives are any indication, the rest of the Beaumont women weren’t spared either.

A queasy feeling grips my stomach. I turn away from the mini-museum of horrors and direct my attention back to the file cabinet, clasping the pull. My fingers burn like fire. I yank my hand away and shake it out to relieve the pain. The collection glows with a soft yellow light. A deep ache sets into my soles, urging me toward the display shelves.

Jeez, my spirit guide’s working overtime to make a point.

Scanning the items once more, I try to figure out what’s so special about them. It’s hard to imagine there’s anything particularly noteworthy about bottles, hair combs, handkerchiefs, pewter cups, and pocket watches. They look like random items from lives lived—or more accurately—lost.

Jack pops up on to his knees after rolling back the area rug. I can only assume he’s looking for a trap door of some sort. “What’s up, Em?”

“Um, I’m not sure, but there’s something important about all this stuff.” I stroke my chin as I scan the glowing items.

Jack joins me in front of the shelves. “Too bad Mom isn’t here. She could probably tell us if any of that stuff is valuable.”

Except her specialty is Middle Eastern desert culture, so it’s highly doubtful. And there’s the whole hoodoo thing, too, which isn’t exactly part of her curriculum.

Cooper gives up on the desk drawers and steps to my other side. “It just looks like a bunch of stuff that was handed down through my family.”

“I guess. But my spirit guide’s kind of making a big deal about it.”

Jack’s brow arches. “Let me guess, voices?”

I shake my head. “Glowing.”

He chuckles. “Dang. How come you get all the fun? I’m your twin, and I don’t see squat.”

I shake my head. “I don’t know. I guess it’s my curse.”

“Or your gift,” Cooper says. “It’s let you do some pretty amazing things. And saved me and Jack while you were at it. I wouldn’t get too down on those powers of yours.” He smiles as his blue-green gaze meets mine.

My chest fills with familiar warmth. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I haven’t saved you yet. There’s still a boo hag hunting for that skin of yours.”

He shakes his head. “I haven’t forgotten.”

“Good, because neither have I.” Redoubling my efforts, I drag my eyes from his gorgeous face and turn back to the shelves and squint hard. I gasp. “Holy cow.”

“What?” Jack and Cooper ask in unison.

I point to a thick yellow beeswax candle in the corner of the top shelf that’s pulsing with bright light. “That!”

“
What
?” They ask again, but this time their words are tinged with annoyance.

Oh, I forgot they can’t see what I do. I sigh. “The candle. It’s flashing like a beacon.”

“If you say so,” Jack says.

“I do.” I stretch onto my tiptoes, but the candle is just out of reach.

“You sure you should touch it?” Cooper asks.

“Um, pretty much. My spirit guide wouldn’t direct me to it otherwise.”

“Okay.” Reaching over my head, he grabs hold of the candle and tries to snatch it. But rather than lift, it tilts forward. The bottom is connected to some kind of lever that’s built into the shelf.

A grinding metal sound churns inside the wall that reminds me of the spinning gears of a clock. With a
click
, the rotating stops and last bookcase pops away from the wall.

“What the…? Ugh!” Jacks words trail off as the brutal aroma of decaying flesh wafts into the room. He groans as he slaps his palm across his nose and mouth.

Cooper coughs then winces as he steps to the opening and pulls on the bookcase. “I think we found what we’re looking for.”

It swings open to reveal a secret, windowless room. The pent-up, fetid air from inside the compartment gushes out and disperses as it spills into the study, then drifts out the window.

I step inside. The stench is still strong enough to burn my throat. Like the crypt at the cemetery, the sparely furnished room is lined with stone and the air is cool. It’s a no-tech refrigerator no doubt intended to help preserve the flesh of the boo hag’s latest victim.

Aside from a small table, chair, and a bookcase filled with ancient ledgers, there’s a wooden stand in the middle of the room propping up Beau’s skin. The flesh husk is posed upright, his lifeless underarms and crotch supported by thick pegs that stick out from a board. Its hollow eyes, nose, and mouth are barren voids of doom.

Cooper swallows hard. “What do we do now?”

“Get it off there and dump salt down its throat,” I answer, dreading every moment.

Jack slaps his palms together. “Might as well get to it.” He strides to the skin and stares at it for a second, as if sizing up a math problem. Without waiting for me or Cooper, he slips his hand under Beau’s meaty left arm and flings it over the peg. The shoulder sags, pulling the skin suit off-kilter. Jack spins around to us, his face gray as he clasps the flaccid skin. “It’s not so bad. Kind of feels like a snake. A rotting snake, but if you can get past the stink, it’s tolerable.” It spills onto the floor in a gelatinous puddle. Splayed on its back, it’s vacant face stares up at the ceiling, its mouth a gaping hole.

Cooper kneels beside the pool of flaccid flesh. He stares at what once was his father for a long moment, then lifts his gaze to mine. His eyes are moist and tinged with pink. He extends his hand. “Give me the salt. I want to kill it.”

I yank off my messenger bag, flip open the flap, then pull out the three cartons of salt. I pop open the spout on the first and pass it to him. “Pour it into the mouth, then down past the neck, and into the body cavity. That should do the trick.”

Cooper takes the container, then leans to where the head lays. “Once I do this, my dad—or what I knew of him—will be gone forever.”

I nod. “That’s right. The boo hag won’t be able to slip back into the skin without being burned.”

Jack steps toward Cooper and grips his shoulder. “Your dad’s been gone for years. The guy you know was an impersonation. And a pretty bad one at that.”