Conjure (21 page)

Chapter Twenty-seven

Jack rushes up to my side. “Why are you wasting time with the knife?” His face is drawn and yellow with panic. “I thought you already saw how The Creep was created.”

“We did, but there was something we didn’t understand. I found this in Miss Delia’s hand”—I flash the paper in front of him—“so I’m hoping Miss Delia’s figured it out.” I dash toward the porch.

Jack follows me. “But what is it, and what does it have to do with the knife?” His voice is filled with a mixture of confusion and hope.

“She might have stabbed one of the
plateyes
. If she did, a
Psychic Vision
charm will tell me what she was doing just before the attack. It might be the answer we’ve been looking for.” I offer a silent prayer that it will.

Panting, Cooper sprints up the porch steps with the knife.

I reach out and squeeze Jack’s upper arm. “I’m sorry, but you know the drill. You can’t come in.”

His jaw tenses. “What are we supposed to do? We can’t sit out here, not with those demons on the loose.”

I look around for a suitable substitute. “Wait in Cooper’s car. You’ll be safe there.”

Reluctantly, Cooper nods. He hands me the knife, and the guys turn and head for the station wagon.

I charge in the house and run to the kitchen, making a mental list of everything I need to do before conjuring the charm. No matter what, I’ve got to fight the weariness and stay focused. This spell has got to be right if I have any hope of seeing the knife’s last cut. I hope Miss Delia plunged the blade into a
plateye
’s gut, or maybe carved a hole in a fluorescent dead eye, anything, so long as the scene it reveals isn’t from three hundred years ago. I’m done with the scary history lessons.

I stack the ingredients on the counter in the order in which they’ll be added, then sit on the stool for a few moments and breathe, clearing my head to prepare. I took a ritual bath this morning, just in case Miss Delia and I worked some hoodoo, but since her blood is on my clothes and skin, I’m betting that purification is ruined. A quick splash of citronella should be enough to set me straight. I wash her blood from my hands, then dab enough of the lemon-scented essential oil on my wrists, behind my ears, and down my neck to smell like a backyard barbecue. I rub my
collier
for luck and set to work on the
Psychic Vision
spell. Biting my lip and doubling my focus, I brew the tea and ignite the charcoal.

Just as I’m about to add the ingredients as Miss Delia taught me, the sky opens up, dumping a deluge. The familiar rumble of thunder rolls in the forest just beyond the house. Moments later, the temperature drops, and the rain transforms into hail, beating against the roof and window. Thunder claps again, this time just overhead, shaking the building. Almost instantly, a bolt of lightning follows, zapping the ground in the side lot and scorching a flat of Miss Delia’s kitchen herbs.

Dodging the flying chunks of ice, Cooper and Jack run screaming through the yard, then bound up the steps to the kitchen porch and jump through the tattered screens.

I jump from my stool and race to meet them. “What are you doing? You’re supposed to stay in the car.”

Jack’s frantic. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s hailing. And there’s thunder. And scary frigging lightning.”

Cooper nods. “It almost hit us. If it strikes again, we’ll be toast.”

Don’t they know that lightning almost never strikes in the same exact place? But then again, this isn’t normal lightning. It’s elemental magic.

I sigh, sensing they’re probably right to want to get out of the car. But that doesn’t mean they’re allowed in the house, either. “Listen, you need to stay out here on the porch, okay? Jack can’t bring that curse inside, and you’re not allowed to watch me work the magic. They’re Miss Delia’s rules, and I’m not going to break them.”

They nod in unison. “Whatever you say,” Jack says, uncharacteristically compliant. “As long as I’m not stuck in the yard.” He plops down in a chair and pulls it as close to the house as possible.

I turn to Cooper. “I’m going in there to work the charm. Don’t come in, no matter what you hear.” I level my gaze at him, anticipating his shining-knight impulse. “If you make me screw up, I’ll have to let the mortar rest for another few days.”

He lifts his palms in surrender. “I understand.” Then he sits next to Jack as I shut the kitchen door to keep them from hearing the spell.

Ten minutes later, as hail continues to lash the roof, I’m poised over the mortar, ready to begin again. I layer the ingredients in the mortar, fighting to keep my focus, but feel my strength drain nonetheless. Resisting the weariness, I unfold the paper and sound out the strange words scratched in Miss Delia’s shaky handwriting. Even with my horrible American accent, I can tell it’s the foreign incantation Sabina spoke on the ship. I wrap the paper around the knife handle, then clutch it in my hand and rest my arm on the mortar’s carved lip.

This is it. My first official, solo hoodoo spell. I hope my spirit guide is with me, because I’m not sure I can do this on my own. My heart pounds as I swig the rusty brown psychic tea in one giant gulp. The cherry-spinach flavor is just as disgusting as before, but that’s a good thing because it means I brewed it right.

Another clash of thunder breaks the air above the house. A sharp pain twists my stomach, and I lurch forward on my stool, doubling over. The energy seems to seep from my limbs, only to coalesce and swirl in my gut. I retch but clamp my mouth shut to keep the tea down. As much as I want to puke this all out, I can’t. I’ve gone too far with this charm to turn back now.

Exhaling to center myself as best I can, I rub the
collier
once more and trust the red and white glass beads will help me find the right words. The tea’s woozy effects take hold, spinning my brain as the spell leaps from my lips. “Smoke and mist reveal the past, and how this object was used last. Reveal the truth behind this verse, and guide my way to break the curse.” The words are mumbled, but they make sense and seem to do the trick.

Dark images flicker on the smoke screen: nightfall, water, a ship, candlelight. I knit my brow. This isn’t a memory from this morning. It’s
The Dagger
. I grunt. The blood on the blade didn’t belong to a
plateye
. It must have been Miss Delia’s. Too bad she didn’t get to stab even one of those heinous creatures.

I’m about to drag myself out of the vision when a menacing voice jeers, “Come now, be a nice little flower.”

The scene zooms closer to reveal a pack of ravenous pirates circling and taunting a bound girl. I assume she’s the slave Edmund gave them in exchange for not sacking High Point Bluff. The fabric of her dress appears finer than that of the other enslaved people I’ve seen in earlier visions, but the bodice is torn, hanging ragged in several places. Her hands are tied behind her back, and a sack covers her head. The pirates pace around her, laughing as they jab their swords and daggers in her direction.

Bloody Bill claps his hands to interrupt them. His carrot-red hair glows in the candlelight. “Now, now, you’re pirates, but there’s no need to be such rotten scoundrels. Have you learned nothing while under my tutelage?” Despite his aristocratic accent and words, his arched brow and smirk reveal his insincerity. “Why, the maiden is our guest, courtesy of Lord Beaumont, so it’s our duty to provide her with the very best accommodations. Show her some manners, won’t you?” He flashes a sinister grin. “After all, even Shakespeare advocated killing with kindness.”

The pirates erupt in peals of hearty, lusty laughter.

Through it all, the restrained girl stands square shouldered and motionless, her head held high under the burlap cover.

Bloody Bill steps close and fiddles with a long lock of fuzzy black hair that peeks out from under the sack. He ducks down and sniffs it. “Hmm, as sweet as any flower I’ve ever smelled.” He licks his lips. “What say you, boys? Shall we meet our guest?”

“Aye!” they cheer in unison and hoist their daggers and swords in the air as he yanks the cover off her face.

I suck in a huge mouthful of air. It’s Maggie. Our Maggie.
Jack’s
Maggie. My exhausted mind spins. How could she have been on the ship?

Bloody Bill smiles and takes a deep bow. “Good evening, miss. Welcome aboard my humble vessel,
The Dagger
. ’Tis a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Maggie juts out her jaw and narrows her gaze but says nothing in response.

He grabs her chin and stares hard at her features. “Your master spoke the truth, love. You are the most beautiful creature mine eyes have gazed upon.” He snickers. “This may have been a fair barter, after all.” She snaps her head away, out of his grasp. His face hardens. “Oh, you wouldn’t want to disappoint your master, now would you? He promised you’d be of good use. I know most of this lot is ragged and infested with scurvy, but I assure you, they’ll be perfect gentlemen. You won’t even notice their bloody gums or open sores.” He roars with laughter.

Her nostrils flare, and she spits in his face. “I care not what my master thinks. Kill me. I am through doing his bidding. And I certainly won’t do yours.” Her accent is thicker and more foreign than I recognize, but it’s definitely Maggie’s voice.

Bloody Bill’s chest puffs up, exposing his giant ruby necklace, and his eyes fill with rage. He pulls his fist back and pounds her hard in the face. The crew cheers again, lunging for her, but Bloody Bill holds up his hand to keep them back.

Maggie sways, then falls to the deck with a
thud
, her bound arms preventing her from breaking her fall. She glares at him.

He wags his finger. “See what you made me do, poppet? If only you’d been a bit more agreeable. Now you’ll have a bruise as big as a cannonball on that pretty eye.” He drags her up from the floor and leans close to her ear.

“Get away from me, vermin.”

He sighs. “Very well, have it your way.” A malicious smile creeps across his lips as he paces around her. “Though I suspect you’ll change you mind after spending some time in the brig.” He howls with laughter. “Take her below, mateys!”

The pirates charge, like starving dogs racing for scraps, and scoop her up. Her expression turns blank as they carry her down the steps to the ’tween deck.

The vision flickers to a stop, and the smoke dissipates. Just as quickly, the hail ceases.

My heart rages in my chest, and my fingers tremble as I try to make sense of what I just saw. Maggie was on
The Dagger
with Bloody Bill. How is that possible? I grab my bleary head to make it stop spinning. A thousand scenarios race through my rattled mind. Maybe the girl was one of her ancestors. But Maggie doesn’t just resemble the girl in the vision. She looks and sounds
exactly
like her.

A chill runs up my spine. Maggie
is
the girl.

Chapter Twenty-eight

Suddenly it all makes sense—her weird accent and strange cadence, appearing out of nowhere and then vanishing to find her non-existent grandmother, even the cold temperature of her skin. She’s not alive and hasn’t been for almost three hundred years.

I grunt. How did I not see this earlier? It’s so obvious, I’m embarrassed I missed it. But I have an idea of how we were so easily fooled.

Knife in hand, I work to lift myself off the stool. My legs are thick and lazy, refusing to obey my command to cross the kitchen. Forcing each foot to lift and walk across the floor, I finally manage to make it to the side door. Pulling it open, I stumble past Cooper and Jack, ignoring their alarm, and cross the porch, heading for the ragged screen door. Tripping down the porch steps, I drag my depleted body out into the side yard and stand in the scorch mark left by the lightning.

Jack and Cooper scramble after me, dodging the herbs and other plants in Miss Delia’s garden.

Squinting at the sky’s harsh silver light, I bellow, “Magnolia Akan! Show yourself now!” The scent of the storm hangs heavy in the air. A cool breeze blows through the garden, swaying the bottles on the tree.

Maggie’s got a lot of explaining to do. After everything I’ve been through today—actually, make that the whole summer—it better be good.

Cooper’s brow knits. “What’s going on?” His voice is tense. “What did you see?”

“What does Maggie have to do with this?” Jack asks. ”And why are you yelling at her? She’s not here.”

My chest heaves as I strive to stay upright. “You’ll see in a second.” My pulse throbs at my temples as I stare at the woods. My finger flicks at the edge of Miss Delia’s note. It’s still wrapped around the knife handle, which feels like it weighs twenty pounds. The inscription is too important to risk losing, so I unravel it and shove it into my pocket.

The trees rustle in the wind. Just as I expected, Maggie emerges from the forest, barefoot and in a flowing white dress, her shoulders thrust back and a broad smile on her face. She approaches with an unmistakable air of calm and dignity. “Congratulations. You have done well, Emma Guthrie.” The scent of stargazer lilies floods the cool air around us.

I fail to see how this is something to celebrate. From where I sit, it’s pretty awful. One half of me wants to run to her, scoop her up in my arms, and console her for all she’s endured, but the smarter half keeps a safe distance. No matter how much sympathy I have for her, I can’t forget that our lives were normal, even boring, until we met her.

Even though my brain is working at half-speed, I’m still quick enough to realize she’s the one who goaded Jack into searching for the treasure. If it wasn’t for her, Jack never would have opened the box and gotten The Creep. His hand and arm would be whole, and instead of conjuring hoodoo spells, I’d be worried about getting close to Cooper on his boat. She couldn’t leave us alone, and now things are beyond freaky. I don’t care what happened to her all those years ago. She can’t be trusted.

I set my jaw. “Thanks, but after the
Psychic Vision
I just watched, I don’t think I’d be smiling.” My body trembles. I’m talking to a ghost. Even though I know it’s true, it doesn’t seem possible. I scan her flawless face for some evidence of the past, maybe a mark where Bloody Bill punched her, or some other horrendous scar, but there’s nothing. She’s so real, so present, so…alive. How?

Her smile falters, but only slightly. “It was a long time ago. Old wounds heal. Even the worst of them. Eventually you barely notice they exist at all.”

Of course she has to make this all about her. This has all been about her, hasn’t it? She endured something truly evil, but that doesn’t make up for what she’s done to my brother. I scoff and mine every last morsel of energy to confront her. “I’m glad you’ve had plenty of time to get over the trauma. But I doubt Jack
barely notices
his bony hand and arm, since you know, he hasn’t had almost three centuries to heal.”

Cooper scratches his head. “Um, I’m totally confused.”

Jack nods. “Yeah, Em, you want to clue us in here?”

I cross my arms, careful not to cut myself with the blade. “I wish I could, but it seems Maggie’s been keeping a lot of secrets from us,” I answer, not taking my eyes off her. “Haven’t you,
Magnolia
?”

The sky tinges green, and a few scant drops of rain fall.

“Hey, take it down a notch, Emo. Just because you’re upset about what happened to Miss Delia doesn’t mean you get to take it out on my girlfriend.” Jack steps to her side, and she clasps his good hand.

“Ha! That’s a good one! Yeah, your girlfriend. Uh-huh. A real, live person who’s honest and trustworthy.” My eyelids droop as I fight to keep them open.

His lip curls. “What’s wrong with you?”

I stagger toward him, ignoring the pain that still burns in my gut. “Wake up, Jack. She’s not what she appears to be. Haven’t you ever noticed how she just arrives and disappears? Or how cold she is?”

He cocks his head. “Huh?”

He doesn’t get it. How can he miss her icy touch? I felt it the split second I hugged her on Dad’s porch. Yet she practically crawls over him, and it’s never occurred to him? Unless…I turn to her. “Or is that something you’ve magically blocked from his mind? That is one of your powers, right? Mind control? That’s how you got Jack to go after the treasure, even though we thought it was a giant waste of time.”

Jack grimaces and rubs his head. “What are you talking about, Emma?”

Cooper reaches for my arm and pulls me back a step. “I hate to say it, Emmaline, but you sound a little crazy,” he whispers in my ear, just loud enough for me to hear over the strengthening breeze.

I yank free of his grasp. “Believe me, I know exactly what’s going on, and so does Maggie. Don’t I?” I struggle to lift the blade and point it at her.

She nods, the broad smile still spread across her face. “I cannot deny that Emma is correct.”

What’s wrong with her? Doesn’t she realize what she’s done to us? To Jack? I don’t care what happened to her, I want to smack that stupid grin right off her face. If I wasn’t about to fall on the ground, I just might.

Cooper’s face falls. “What are you saying?”

“Maggie’s the flower!” My voice echoes across the garden. “The one Bloody Bill’s crew plucked.”

Jack’s lip curls. “What?” He laughs. “You’re insane.” Maggie shudders and rubs her arms at the sound of the pirate’s name. Jack’s eyes widen, and he turns to her. “But…you can’t be the flower.” Her gaze shifts down to her toes. He shakes his head. “That’s…impossible.” His voice trails off as he stares at her.

“No, it’s not,” I answer. “The magnolia tree produces a gorgeous, aromatic flower. You can look it up in any botany book.”

“Who cares about that—Maggie, how?” Jack shivers. He drops her hand and pulls away from her. Finally he must have felt the chill.

Shaking his head, Cooper takes a step back as well. “That means you’re a…” His voice trails off.

She moves toward Jack. “I can explain—”

I lean in, narrowing my gaze. “It better be the truth. I’m sick of your lies.”

She levels her stare at me and juts out her jaw. “I didn’t have a choice.”

Heat boils from my gut, overflowing in rage, giving me the strength to stand my ground. “That’s crap!” I flick my wrist at the ground, sinking the knife deep into the rich soil with one fluid movement. Cooper takes another frightened step back, but Jack just stands there, dazed. I force myself forward to grab hold of his arm. “You had a choice, Maggie! You didn’t have to drag us into your drama. I don’t care what happened to you. It doesn’t make up for what you’ve done to Jack!” I yank up his sleeve, exposing his bones and releasing the God-awful smell of death. “Not very pretty, is it?”

She winces and turns away, but I don’t care. I’m riled up and going for the throat while I still have the energy. “You did this to an innocent person. You know what that means? You’re just as bad as Edmund and those pirates.” The words shoot from my mouth like bullets as I stagger backward, pulling him toward Cooper and me.

She trembles and casts her eyes down. “Emma, you don’t understand. I didn’t want this to happen, but it was the only way.” Her voice is small and weak.

I huff. “Really? You had to hurt my brother? That’s fascinating.”

She nods. “Yes, I needed him, needed all of you. I cannot break the curse by myself.”

I cock my head. “Oh, so now you want to break it. That’s funny, considering you unleashed it on us!”

“Emma!” Her voice booms. “Can’t you see I want to be free?”

Blinded with anger, I prepare to yell some more, but her words register, and I stop short. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I teeter on my weary feet.

“My soul cannot pass on until the curse is broken.” Her voice sounds small and desperate.

“How’s that?” Cooper crinkles his brow.

She sighs. “My grandmother Sabina was a powerful root doctress, but she made a tragic mistake. In her rage, she burned my hair with that of the pirate’s, thinking it would condemn him and his crew for my murder, but instead, she forever entwined my fate with the curse.”

So that’s what the black woolly stuff was on the deck of
The Dagger
. Yet another clue that I missed.

Maggie’s eyes turn down. “So long as The Creep is unbroken, my soul remains here with my spirit on the shores of this island.”

“So you’ve been stuck here for almost three hundred years?” Jack asks.

She purses her lips. “Yes. It has been a very lonely existence.” She reaches out to him, but I shoot her the evil eye, and she drops her hand. I don’t care what happened to her, or how much she needs us. She’s not going to work any more magic on my brother.

Squinting in the dull gray morning light, Cooper drags his fingers through his hair, then raises his hand as if he’s in class. “Hang on. How can your soul pass but your spirit stay behind? Aren’t they the same thing?”

She opens her mouth, but I rush to answer, in case she decides to explain a little too well, using his scenario as an example. He’s having enough trouble absorbing the whole Maggie reveal—finding out about his own soul’s impending departure would probably kill him. And then he’d kill me. “The Gullah believe the soul passes on when the body dies, but the spirit stays behind to help its loved ones.”

She flashes a wry grin. “You have learned much about the Gullah, Emma Guthrie. The Grannie has taught you well.”

“Thanks,” I snap, unmoved by her compliment. “But you haven’t explained why you needed to hurt Jack to free your soul.”

Her shoulders sink. “The curse is too powerful to break on my own. I have tried, believe me, but it is impossible.” She looks off toward the bottle tree and blinks. “I came close once, more than a hundred years ago, with a human assistant. He worked a powerful charm, one I was certain would work, but was missing the key ingredient, and at the last moment, it failed. He was severely injured, and the first High Point Bluff was destroyed.” She shuts her eyes and shakes away the images.

Jack breaks out of his stupor. “So that’s all I am, your assistant?” His voice cracks as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

She nods. “You all are.”

The magic’s effects dissipate enough to allow me to plant my hands on my hips. “Um, maybe you don’t understand the concept, but you’re supposed to guide your assistant, not kill him.”

Her eyes flash with anger. “I have been guiding you, every step of the way.”

Jack’s olive cheeks flush magenta. “Really? How? Because so far, all I can see is how you got me jacked up.”

“I brought you to the Grannie”—she takes a small step toward him—“and you found my grandmother’s mortar easily, did you not? Did you think it was a coincidence that it remained on Sa’leenuh all this time?” She points to the dagger handle sticking out of the ground. “And that knife, the one that has allowed your sister to see into the past.” She hitches her brow. “Cooper might have overlooked it at the museum, had I not helped him see it.” Then she turns to me. “And you, Emma, may never have picked it up without my urging.”

My mind flashes back to how my hand itched and burned, and how badly I needed the cooling touch of the polished knife handle. “But I thought my spirit guide made me take it.”

She scoffs. “She is far more subtle than that. I had to be forceful to ensure you took it. You needed to see all it could show you.” She raises her brow and shoots me a knowing look. “
Everything
it knew. So you can right what is wrong.”

I gulp. The Beaumont curse. She’s right. If Miss Delia and I hadn’t worked a psychic charm on the knife, we’d never have known how the curse was created, and I wouldn’t have a chance to save him.

I ball my fists, reminding myself to stay strong and not lose sight of what’s important. “You lured us into finding the treasure.” I already know it’s true, but I need to hear her admit it.

She nods. “Yes. I saw you and your brother on the beach that morning and was certain you were the right ones to break the curse.”

Cooper shakes his head. “Even though you knew it was laced with The Creep, and at least one of us would get it?”

She swallows. “How else could I motivate you to help break it?”

My brow crinkles. “Um, how about just asking?”

She bats her long black lashes. “Ask? Really, Emma, humans are not as accommodating as you wish to believe.”

Jack shakes his head. “No, she’s right. We would’ve helped you. I’m sure of it.”

She scoffs. “Why? Because of my beauty?”

“Uh,” he scratches his scalp, seeming a little embarrassed, “I can’t deny that would have helped. You’re the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen.” His cheek raises in a half-smile. “But that’s not why we would’ve helped you. We’d have done it because you needed it.”

She laughs ruefully. “Ha! And you would have believed I was dead, and my claims about a vicious, flesh-eating curse?”

He nods. “Yeah. I think we would have.”

She mashes her lips together and bats back a tear. “I wish I could believe that, but I have had too much experience with humans. And too much disappointment.”