Allure tha-2

by Lea Nolan

  Taneea’s eyes turn dark and cold. “Well, then I’ll save you the trouble. I don’t need you to teach me anyway. As you said, I learned on my own. And with a little extra help from a friend of mine, I won what I needed for that truck and then some.”

  “Trust me. Anyone who’d teach you that kind of magic is no friend of yours. You’re messing with fire you can’t put out.” Miss Delia’s voice softens.

  Taneea rolls her eyes. “Ooh, I’m so scared. You just want to control me just like my mother and her loser husband. Well guess what? It won’t work because you’re not the only magic expert around here. So you and Emma can have all the fun you want. I don’t need you anyway.” She shoots me a sideways glare.

  Miss Delia leans her forearms against her chair rests. “Did Claude tell you that?”

  Her lips part in a sly grin. “Wouldn’t you love to know? Too bad you won’t find out.” She races down the porch steps, through the garden and gate, then jumps up on the running board, throws open the truck door, and jumps into the cab.

  Looks like she’s pretty agile on those shoes, after all.

  The engine revs. A second later, the wheels squeal as they spin in reverse, chewing up grass and clumps of dirt as the truck backs up. The gears crunch as she shifts into first, then slams on the accelerator, causing puffs of smoke to rise from the wheel wells. When the transmission shrieks, begging for more power, she shifts into second, then third as she speeds down the road.

  Jack steps back onto the porch from the relative safety of the living room. “What is her problem?”

  Miss Delia sucks her teeth. “She’s lost. Lord knows, I’ve tried to reach her, but sometimes the damage is too great and some folk don’t want to be found. Excuse me, I’ve got to rest before I figure out how to explain this mess to her maamy.”

  Cooper whips around. “Don’t do that. Give her another chance. She’s just upset because no one understands her and she hasn’t felt very welcomed around here.”

  Miss Delia shakes her head. “I’ll have to think on it. I’m a tired, old woman. I’m not sure I can handle any more of her funny business. Please get the door for me.”

  I want to ask her how she did that nature-element-control thing but realize it can wait. She needs a nap and it’s not like I need to mess with the weather any time soon.

  Cooper pulls open the screen door and she drives her wheelchair through.

  When she’s safety inside and out of earshot, Jack steps to Cooper, “What’s your deal, bro?”

  Cooper squares his chest. “What do you mean?”

  “No one understands her? She hasn’t felt welcomed?” Jack mocks Cooper’s words. “Are you kidding? I just spent the whole day with her. Believe me, I get her. She’s one of the most obnoxious people I’ve ever met.”

  “And she’s been horrible to Miss Delia. She deserves to get sent back to Chicago for breaking the rules,” I add, but Cooper doesn’t seem to hear me.

  Instead he takes a step toward Jack. “You’re just like everyone else. She’s awesome. I’m sorry you can’t see that.”

  “Dude, you need some serious help if you can’t see through her whining, fake flirting, and snotty attitude. Today was the worst day of the summer and that includes every time a chunk of my arm fell off. I only went to the dealerships because you wouldn’t let me out of the car. Now that it’s over, I’m done. I’m never hanging out with her again.”

  Cooper’s eyes flicker with white-hot light and his chest expands to twice the width of Jack’s. “She’ll come with us whenever I want. It’s not up to you.”

  My heart skips. And not in a good way. The niggling fear from yesterday rears its ugly head again. Is there a bigger reason he wants her around? Like, maybe he’s interested in her as more than a friend? Or, given his father’s wandering and soulless eye, is this another reason to think the Beaumont Curse might be making an early move?

  Jack’s jaw opens and then shuts. “Congratulations, jerkwad, you just sounded exactly like Beau. But guess what? I’m not my father so you don’t get to order me around like your servant.”

  Cooper’s fist clenches and his breath comes in short, quick puffs like a bull about to charge. “How dare you?”

  Jack takes a long stride forward. “Easy, bro. I just open my mouth and say it.”

  “Whoa!” Without thinking, I race to wedge my body between them. Planting my palms on their chests, I push hard in both directions, forcing them apart. Caught in the crossfire of their laser-like glares, I suddenly realize how stupid I am to have put myself in this dangerous position. If they come to blows, I’m liable to get a black eye or worse. A low growl rumbles in Cooper’s throat. “Knock it off, you idiots!” I grunt and lean hard against Cooper’s tight abs. But like elk with locked horns, they don’t budge. “Stop it. Please!” My voice breaks.

  Jack backs down first, crossing the porch and clomping down the steps and through the garden on his way to cool off under the bottle tree.

  I search Cooper’s faint gray gaze. “What is wrong with you? Since when do you talk to Jack like that? Or let Taneea come between us?” I’m almost afraid to hear his answer.

  He trains his frozen stare on me. His lips are mashed in a hard, unforgiving line, as if he’s holding back a string of insults so withering they’d slay me on contact. But then his eyes flicker a bright blue and his brow softens, relaxing the rest of the muscles on his face. My Cooper is back. Then, just as quickly, an expression of sheer desperation grips him. Grabbing my arms, he pulls me close. “Help me, Emmaline. I’m not myself. Something’s wrong…don’t let me slip away.” His breath comes in quick pants.

  My fears and anger ease. Whatever’s going on, a sliver of my Cooper is still there, somewhere deep inside. “I won’t.” I pat his shirt to make sure his mojo is still slung around his neck. It’s there, and hopefully, so is his love for me.

  A split second later, the color in Cooper’s eyes fades again. His hands drop and his expression hardens. Taking a huge step back, he bounds down the porch steps.

  “Where are you going?” I call, but he keeps running down the garden path and out to his car.

  Jack rises off the bench under the bottle tree. “What’s up?”

  Cooper jumps into the driver’s seat and starts the engine. “I need to look for Taneea. I’m worried she’s driving angry. She could crash or something.”

  My heart cracks. I rub my throbbing temples and try to make sense of his weird flip-flopping. Cooper is sympathetic and caring, but his support of Taneea is too much, even for him. How could he defend her antics and disrespect of Miss Delia? Maybe I’m wrong and he does care for her more for her that I thought. Taneea is more experienced and exciting than I and obviously attractive to guys. But he swore she wasn’t his type—unless she’s dabbled in more than just green magic spells and found some way to brainwash him—but that kind of spell requires so much advanced hoodoo knowledge, it’s practically impossible for her to have pulled off in such a short amount of time. More likely it’s the encroaching Beaumont Curse, eager to steal his soul.

  Whatever the reason, I promised to help him fight this and I’m not going to back down now.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Drawing a deep breath, I stare at the intercom panel installed next to the glossy, black double door to High Point Bluff, preparing myself for the inevitable encounter to come. An hour ago, when Jack and I hatched this plan as he walked back home from Miss Delia’s, and I rode alongside, it sounded brilliant, but now, not so much.

  “Are you going to buzz or not?” Jack nudges my side.

  “I will. In a second.” Gnawing my lip, I adjust my messenger bag across my back, then turn to him. “Maybe we should just forget the whole thing. It’s probably pointless anyway.”

  He narrows his eyes. “Buzz, or I will.”

  I nod, knowing he’s right. We’re here on a mission and can’t turn chicken now. Taneea’s slip about a “friend” teaching her magic raised too many questions. But one thing’s for
sure. Someone taught her some pretty advanced hoodoo, enough to afford her awesome toys and the freedom she’s so desperately desired. If Miss Delia’s right and Claude is the one pulling the strings, then he’s no ordinary investigator—he’s a conjurer with a dark agenda. Is he really dedicated to uncovering the truth about the robbery at the museum, or does he have some other motive for pursuing Miss Delia like a hound on a fox? And why did he push so hard for Sheriff Walker to agree that Missy’s death was from natural causes? Could it have anything to do with why he’d sneak into Beau’s private study, then threaten me and everyone I know to keep my discovery secret? We can’t explain everything to Beau—how does one describe a three-hundred-year-old, soul-snatching curse?—but we can warn him not to trust Claude.

  I mash the doorbell button on the panel. It’s one of the new security features Dad put in for Missy after she freaked out about the museum burglars being on the loose.

  “Yeah?” Beau’s voice crackles from the intercom speaker near the door.

  Depressing another button, I lean toward the speaker. “Hey Beau. It’s us. Emma and Jack.”

  “My sweet, darling Emma!” His voice is even more slurred than usual. “Cooper isn’t home. And why are you calling on this contraption anyway? Y’all should just walk in.”

  Jack steps close. “We’re actually here to talk to you if that’s okay. We didn’t want to assume you were free.”

  A moment passes before he answers. “Come on in, then. And make it quick. I’m busy.” The front door buzzes and the latch clicks, allowing us entry.

  The light in the library is on, casting a glow on the buffed hall floor. Heading toward it, we run smack into the scent of rancid meat that hangs thick in the air, proof positive of Beau’s presence. My eyes sting as I peek through the doorway. As expected, Beau is sprawled on the sofa, sunk into his favorite spot, the cushions slung low and nearly touching the floor.

  He toasts us with his drink, a pint-size tumbler nearly filled to the brim with a dark brown liquid. “Set a while.”

  Veering as far away as possible, I hold my breath as I steer toward the sofa opposite of him and ease into the red silk fabric, laying my bag on the Oriental carpet. Averting my gaze, I try not to stare at his chalky, gray skin that hangs slack and extra rubbery. Jack plops next to me.

  “I barely recognize you without that son of mine in tow.” Beau drags in slow, heavy breaths. His chest gurgles like it’s filled with chunky globs of mucus. He takes a long gulp of his drink, downing half the glass.

  “Cooper’s busy tonight,” Jack says.

  Beau’s thin eyebrow arches. “Really? Without his sweetheart?” His rheumy eyes search mine as if he suspects there’s trouble in paradise. “If my boy isn’t treating you right, you best tell me. I’ll set him straight.”

  Creepy unease works its way up my spine. “Thanks. But that isn’t necessary.”

  “I mean it.” He swats his right hand, but the movement throws him off-balance and causes him to tip onto his left side.

  Jack clears his throat. “If this isn’t a good time, we could always come back.”

  I nod. “Yeah, like tomorrow.”

  “Nonsense!” he bellows. The phlegmy sound bubbles up in his throat, causing him to cough. Pulling a soiled handkerchief from his pocket, he hacks up something dark and chunky, but quickly crumples the cloth in his fist and stuffs it back into his pocket.

  Jack shoots me a look. From his pinched expression, I’m not sure whether he’s trying not to laugh or puke. I’m right there with him.

  “Maybe you’ve had enough to drink,” I suggest.

  “On the contrary,” Beau says. “This is my elixir of life, the only thing keeping the blood flowing through my veins. Did you know scotch is a vasodilator? My circulation isn’t what it used to be.”

  Judging by the pasty pallor of his skin, I’d say it’s barely pumping at all.

  Beau chugs another mouthful of the deep amber liquid. With great effort, he lurches forward and points to Jack. “Now listen here, there’s something I want you to remember. I may not be around forever, so you’ve got to make sure my boy doesn’t squander his youthful energy and vigor. He’s got to live every day to the fullest and take advantage of all that being a Beaumont affords him. Lord knows I did.” A smile edges across his wine-red lips as he rubs his gelatinous midsection. “And despite appearances, I don’t regret one day being Beau Beaumont. It’s been a fulfilling life.”

  “Oh-kay,” Jack says. “Though hopefully you’ve got plenty more years ahead.” His mouth cracks into an uncomfortable smile.

  “I certainly hope so. But life can be so unpredictable. Who’d have guessed I would have ended up with four wives? Though none of those delectable plums can hold a candle to our dear Emma.” Chuckling, he gives me the once over. “I’ve got to hand it to that son of mine. He does have good taste in women.” He winks.

  My stomach churns. Where’s Miss Delia’s Semi-Invisibility powder when you need it?

  “Oh, now darling, don’t be shy.” His eyes swim in their sockets. “I know you care for the boy. And that’s a good thing. Because I’ve got my legacy to think of. I’m counting on you two having a long and fruitful relationship. Together, you’ll combine forces to build an immense empire. He can’t squander his chances with you.”

  “Uh, sure. But you know sometimes stuff doesn’t work out.” I hug my arms, uncomfortable with the whole empire-building thing.

  He coughs out a laugh and wobbles back against the cushion. “Whatever that boy’s busy doing now, it’ll end the moment he comes into his manhood.”

  My gut clenches and my mouth turns dry. That phrase. It’s exactly what Sabina said when she worked the Beaumont Curse. Does Beau know that, or is he just repeating an old island expression?

  Beau laughs. “Your daddy and me? We got into our share of messes back in the day. But once we turned sixteen, everything changed. The same will happen to Cooper, no doubt. You’ll be amazed at the change in him.” He guzzles the rest of his drink, then smacks his lips. “Now, I doubt you came here to get relationship advice from a broken, old man. To what do I owe the pleasure of your clandestine visit?”

  Sitting up straight, I remind myself of our task. Though considering how impaired Beau is, he probably won’t remember a thing we say. This is a waste of time.

  Beau’s brow furrows. “Spit it out, girl!”

  I gulp. “Jack and I wanted to talk to you about Claude Corbeau.”

  “Ah, good man!” He raises his empty glass in salute.

  “Actually we’re thinking maybe he isn’t.”

  “What? He’s the best investigator either side of the Mississippi.”

  Jack leans forward. “There are some things you ought to know—”

  Beau raises his hand in protest. “Believe me, boy. I did my homework.” He digs his finger into his chest. “Examined his credentials myself. Corbeau’s the man for the job.” A thunderous belch works its way up Beau’s throat and a puff of something truly foul floats out of his mouth and across the room. It’s like rotten eggs mixed with day-old roadkill topped with liver-fried onions. Oblivious, Beau yammers on, pinching his fat forefinger and thumb together, then squints at his hand. “Besides, Claude is this close to uncovering the burglary ring that stole from the King Center. Would you believe it was one of our donors? A little old Gullah lady in a wheelchair, no less. Can you imagine that?” he whispers as his eyes goggle.

  I lean forward slightly. “That sounds pretty impossible if you ask me.”

  He nods, slow and lazy like his head weighs a hundred pounds. “She’s just the mastermind. But after we’re done putting the screws to her, she’ll roll on her coconspirators, lickety-split. Then we’ll find out what they did with my Beaumont ruby.” His words are slurred and peppered with a whole lot of sh’s that aren’t normally there. His eyes close and his head bobs forward, lifeless. The empty glass slips from his grip and clanks against the bottle on the floor.

  The room is silent e
xcept for the ticking of the clock on the mantle below Lady Rose’s portrait. The first mistress of High Point Bluff stares down at us, her crazy bug-eyes appear trained on her unconscious, soulless descendent.

  “Is he dead?” Jack asks.

  My pulse races, jumping in my neck as I stare at Beau’s motionless body. “I don’t know.”

  “We should check.” He nudges my side with his elbow.

  “We?”

  “Well, you.” Shrugging, he attempts a pathetic smile.

  I narrow my gaze and toss him my best reproachful look. “Baby.” Gathering my strength, I stand and gingerly step around the coffee table between the two sofas, then clamp a hand over my mouth and nose. His smell is even more putrid up close. I doubt he’s showered in the last week. Maybe two. Holding my breath, I lean toward his mammoth arm and give it a shake.

  He doesn’t move.

  My heart gallops against my rib cage. I shove him again, this time a little harder. “Beau?” My voice quivers.

  His lids pop open as he starts and gasps for air.

  I squeal, the sound so high and piercing, it nearly ruptures my eardrums.

  He clutches my hand. “I need my ruby,” he rasps. Then his eyes roll back into his head as he slumps onto his side and snores.

  My pulse sputters to a trot. He’s only passed out, unconscious from his copious consumption of alcohol. Surveying Beau’s vast, ashy-gray body, I listen to his labored breathing and can’t help but agree that he’s probably on his way out. He’s abused his body for too long, indulging in every vice known to man, the likely consequence of losing his soul. I almost feel sorry for him.

  An image of Cooper, distorted and corrupt zooms across my mind. Shaking my head, I force it from my brain. I can’t let him turn into his father.

  Glancing at Beau again, I notice the chain that’s affixed to his belt loop. The other end is tucked into his pocket, attached to the key to his private study. An idea forms.