Allure

recipe I could follow, so I created one of my own with ginseng for energy and, to strengthen my immune system, a few grains of paradise to ward off unnatural illness, and bearberry to activate my gift to heal.

After unscrewing the bottle, I swig a couple mouthfuls of the muddy-green liquid. The bitter, tangy taste zaps my tongue. Tucking the vial back into my bag, I shut my eyes and wait for a moment to see if anything happens. I’m not sure how fast it’s supposed to work, but after thirty seconds, all I’ve detected is the sound of my own breath. Maybe it wasn’t strong enough, or perhaps I should have drunk more, but so far I’m thinking this batch might be a dud.

I push through the swinging door to the kitchen. Miss Delia is rolled up next to the worktable, peering over her spell book. A few hot charcoal briquettes burn in the bottom of the ancestors’ mortar. Their smoky aroma fills the air.

“Morning.”

She starts, clasping her hand to her chest. “Lord above! You can’t sneak up on an old woman like that.” Her super-thick lenses magnify and distort her eyes.

“Sorry, I thought you heard me come in.” I can’t help but chuckle at how adorable she looks in those glasses.

She yanks off her goggle-like specs. “If I had, do you think I’d be gasping for air like a boo hag had been riding my chest?”

Ew, the boo hag, an evil creature that sheds its skin and slips into your house, climbs up on your chest, and rides you while you’re sleeping, sucking the life from you. Most times, the boo hag siphons just enough to regenerate itself, but sometimes it goes too far, draining you dead. Occasionally, it jumps into the newly lifeless skin, taking over the body and impersonating its victim. It’s sort of the Gullah version of a vampire on steroids. Normally, I’d laugh off the idea, but after the plateyes and The Creep, anything’s possible. Though I’m not super-psyched to meet their version of a zombie.

I swallow my laughter. “You’re not really scared a boo hag will come in here, are you?”

She shakes her head. “Not in my house. I’ve worked too many protective charms for one of those foul, slimy creatures to get near. If one is foolish enough to come close, I’ve got plenty of salt and brooms to take care of them.”

“Huh?” She’s a master root worker and she’s going to rely on salt and brooms?

“Salt burns their skin and will even kill one if you’ve got enough of it. Otherwise, you’ve got to draw the vile monster into the sun without its victim’s skin and fry it up like a catfish.”

My stomach churns. Up until this second, I loved catfish. Not anymore. “And what do you do with the broom? Sweep up the ashes?”

She smiles. “Believe it or not, it’s to distract them. They’re cruel, wicked creatures, but put anything with bristles in front of them, and they’re putty in your hands. They’ll count the straw on a broom until dayclean,” she says, using the Gullah term for dawn.

I stare hard. “Seriously?”

She smirks. “Yes. They’re devilish but easily distracted. That’s why I’ve got a broom in nearly every room in the house.”

Now that I think about it, she does. There’s one on both the front and back porches, in the kitchen and living room, and even one in her bedroom. I thought she was just really into sweeping, but now I see there’s another reason for it.

She waves her hand away. “Enough talk about boo hags. We’ve got work to do.”

She’s right. With exactly seventeen days till Cooper’s birthday, we’re no closer to breaking the Beaumont Curse.

Without a word, I grab the bottle of citronella oil on the counter and dab it on my pressure points. I cleansed myself earlier this morning, but it never hurts to add a little extra lemon-fresh purification.

Out the rear window, I watch Cooper and Jack make their way into the overgrown backyard, a shovel slung across each of their shoulders. Cooper is also carrying a giant pair of pruning shears. They’ve decided to clear a path through the garden so Miss Delia can drive her chair around. As usual, Jack is jabbering about something, but unlike normal, Cooper looks preoccupied. It’s almost as if he doesn’t hear a thing Jack’s saying. I’m worried for him. Missy’s death has hit him harder than I expected. Though it makes sense, considering how much it’s reminded him of his mother.

I pull my attention away from the backyard and switch to another, equally depressing subject. “So, I didn’t see Taneea when I came in.”

“Pfft.” Miss Delia purses her wrinkled lips. “She left hours ago after helping me into my chair. Said she was going for a walk.”

“You don’t believe her?”

Miss Delia narrows her gaze. “Child, please. My great-granddaughter has about as much interest in exploring this island as you do joining her on a shopping spree at the mall. She’s found something to keep her busy all right, but it’s got nothing to do with sightseeing.”

I don’t know why I underestimated Miss Delia. Of course she’d know Taneea was up to something. But that doesn’t explain why she’s letting her get away with it.

“Do you think it’s a good idea to let her be alone for so long?” Because I thought the idea was to keep her out of trouble, not turn a blind eye.

“It’s not my preference, but it’s all I can do. Her mother shipped her here to Sa’leenuh to keep her off the streets of Chicago. She got her wish.”

“Yeah, but as small as St. Helena is, she could still get mixed up in some bad stuff.”

Miss Delia smiles. “Sometimes the toughest cases require the softest touch. She’s new here and is still testing the boundaries. If I clamp down too hard and make her stay in the house all day, she’ll run as soon as she gets the chance. Then she’ll find some real trouble. This way, she’s home every morning and night to help me get ready. It’s more than her mother could get out of her.” She pushes on her glasses and turns back to her spell book, a clear sign she’s done talking about Taneea and her issues.

My pulse begins to thrum, throbbing gently, but definitely more forcefully in my neck. Maybe my energy tea is working after all.

With a shaky hand, Miss Delia grabs a pinch of powder from one of the crocks beside her and then tosses it onto the smoldering flames. The powder crackles as it bounces off the sizzling coals. A strong, bitter scent wafts up, reminding me of my mother’s favorite Thai green-curry dish. And not in a good way.

Wincing, I cover my nose. “Ugh, what is that?”

“Rue. It’s an ancient herb with the power to turn back jinxes. I had an idea Sabina could have found a way to reverse its power and used it set the curse.” Her lips turn down as she stretches to reach another crock. “But it didn’t even catch fire. Not for a second.”

“What’s this one?” I ask as I push the dish toward her. My hand trembles slightly but the effect is so faint, I doubt she notices.

“Burdock root.” Her long, bent fingers dip into the bowl. A second later, the powder splashes on the charcoal. It ignites, but the red flame it creates is quiet as it slowly licks the remains of the pulverized root. The warm, woody smell of sawdust curls up from the mortar. She mutters something in Gullah, probably a cuss word too dirty for me to hear.

“Not enough power, right?” I think back on the explosions Sabina created in the Psychic Visions. Small but impactful, they were like pocket-size bundles of dynamite.

She nods. “Uh huh. Not hot enough, either. The flame should burn orange and yellow.” Her glasses slip down her nose. She scowls at the mortar and taps a yellowed nail on the arm of her wheelchair. “I’ve tried nearly everything I can think of. I’m running out of ingredients.”

“It has to be something, right? Maybe she used an herb that doesn’t grow here anymore.”

Shaking her head, she sucks her teeth. “There isn’t a plant grown in the Lowcountry that isn’t in my pantry.” She trains her good eye on the shelf lined with apothecary bottles. “Which makes we wonder if I haven’t been fishing in the wrong pond.” Her milky eye flicks toward me. “Maybe she didn’t use a plant after all. Maybe it’s a curio.”

“But you’ve got a ton of those.” I point to the shelves devoted to magnetic lodestones, cat’s eye shells,