“Are too.” I smirk, trying to keep the mood light. And to keep from yelling at Cooper for flashing Taneea, or at her for gawking at my boyfriend like he’s supper.
“I’m Jack.” He extends his palm but she leaves him hanging, apparently still fixated on what else lies beneath Cooper’s shirt. Jack drops his hand and stares at her, likely waiting for her to notice the lull in the conversation. His gaze travels to her zebra tank. I don’t need our twin sense to know he’s debating whether to ask if she just broke out of the zoo.
Finally Taneea drags her eyes from Cooper long enough to give Jack a cursory glance. “Hi.” Then she quickly steps toward Cooper. “You know we really should hang out more.” She grips his biceps and bats her eyes, then giggles and give him a squeeze. “Wow. You’re strong.”
Fire roars in my stomach as my nails dig into the soft flesh of my palms. Without thinking I leap to my feet and gape at the sight of her skin on his flesh. A thousand words churn in my brain, crashing into each other, and causing a massive traffic jam that keeps them from traveling to my mouth.
To make matters worse, rather than shirking from her touch, he chuckles. “Thanks.”
I try to say something but she’s still caressing his muscle—and he’s not shaking her off—plus my heart’s racing a million miles a minute, so only a guttural grunt makes it past my lips.
Cooper’s head tilts in my direction. For a second, his blue-gray eyes seem to register my extreme displeasure and distress but then he scratches his temple and the recognition seems to evaporate. He turns his gaze back to Taneea. “Hey, I’ve got an idea. I know you’ve been pretty bored around here. Do you want to come to my stepmother’s funeral? It’s not a party, but there’ll be decent food afterward.”
Jack head snaps in my direction and he mouths, “What the—” Which is exactly the same thing I’m thinking. I know Cooper is trying to be a nice guy, but this is way over the top. And totally inappropriate.
“Sure. Just tell me when and where and I’ll be there.” She grins and flashes me a glance.
“It all depends on when the coroner releases her body. I’ll let you know.”
“Great. Text me.” She finally releases him to root through her purse for a piece of paper and pen. Leaning against his broad back for support, she scribbles a number, folds the scrap in half, and tucks it into his other back pocket, the one without the baseball cap.
“Dude, I forgot something in the backyard.” Jack charges forward, his normally olive skin magenta, and pushes Cooper backward toward the front door. “I need your help.”
Taneea yawns and pats her mouth. “I’m tired. You don’t mind if I take nap, do you, Great-gran?”
Miss Delia hitches her brow. “Course not. You need to rest up for that job of yours.” Her voice is laden with so much sarcasm you’d have to be deaf not to hear it.
“Thanks. See you later, Emma. At the funeral party.”
My breath quickens as I imagine smearing that smirk from her face but that would only convince her that she’s gotten to me. No, she will most definitely not win this war. Cooper is
I plaster the fakest smile I can muster. “Right. See you then.”
She pivots and saunters down the tiny hall to the second bedroom and slams the door.
I turn to Miss Delia, an inferno blazing in my gut. “Can you believe that? Who does she think she is? Literally trying to steal Cooper right in front of me.” I’m so angry I’m surprised I’m not exhaling flames.
Miss Delia’s eyes are cold. “You’ve got to put your boy problems aside. We’ve got bigger trouble in store.”
“What could possibly be bigger than boyfriend stealing?” I sigh, exasperated and so wrapped up in my angst whirlwind that I momentarily forget the curse that threatens Cooper’s soul. Which is horrible because as far as problems go, that’s a biggie.
Miss Delia claps her twisted hands. “Get a hold of yourself, Emma. I don’t give a hoot about who likes who, or who shows up at a party. Claude Corbeau has offered my great-granddaughter a job. Believe me, it wasn’t because he thought she’d make a good assistant.”
That jerks me back to reality. “Why do you think he did it?”
She sucks her front teeth. “I don’t know. But I suspect it was to help him gain information on me. Who knows what she’s already told him? Or what she might have said about what we do in that kitchen? In a big stone mortar.” She glances toward the closed swinging door.
“But she’s never worked a spell with you, right? Or seen you conjure anything?”
She shakes her head. “No.” Wringing her hands, she continues. “But I can’t be awake all day and night. There’s no telling what she might have picked up while I was sleeping.”
My pulse thumps in my chest. “So what can we do?”
“I’m not sure. Yet.”
Chapter Fourteen
It took almost two weeks for the coroner to release Missy’s body, partly because of all the tests that needed to be conducted, but also because Beau didn’t seem in a hurry to pick it up. After all the X-rays, toxicology reports, and tissue and body fluid samples, her death was listed as natural causes because there were no discernible injuries and no unusual substances found in her system. Even the stinky, sludgy black stuff was inconclusive. The lab reported it was made of organic matter of unknown origin so their best guess is it was some sort of wacky, dead-plant-and-fertilizer-based skin mask she planned to apply but never got the chance.
Even though I’ve read the report a hundred times, something still doesn’t feel right. I suppose it’s technically possible for a healthy twenty-two-year-old to just drop dead, although it’s seems pretty unlikely.
But there’s no sense in questioning the facts anymore. Jack thinks I’m emo enough and it would definitely rub Cooper wrong. He’s already on edge, what with his birthday just four days away and no viable cure for the Beaumont Curse in hand
Dad, Jack, and I take a golf cart to the Beaumont family cemetery at the far northeastern corner of the plantation, along the banks of a salt marsh. Usually, this place is off-limits. During our first summer on the island, Jack and I ventured here once, with Cooper, because he wanted to leave flowers on his mother’s grave. But we never found it because I fell down an old dry well and nearly broke my neck in the process. After it took all day to fish me out and seal the hole, Dad banned us from visiting this part of the plantation unsupervised.
Though I remember that day with perfect clarity, I barely recognize this place. It’s overgrown and wide swaths are choked with kudzu, the clingy, invasive vine that’s the scourge of the South.
Which is totally weird considering how pristine my father keeps the rest of the plantation. As far as the eye can see, every shrub, ornamental tree, and flower, even the blades of grass are pristine and perfectly manicured. High Point Bluff is my father’s pride and joy and the perfect outlet for his anal-retentiveness and neat-freakism. So why has the cemetery been allowed to grow so wild and out of control? It looks like it’s been forgotten. Or willfully neglected. It would make a pretty awesome, though slightly deranged, painting.
I turn to Dad. “This place is a total mess.”
He stiffens. “This is the way Beau wants it.”
“But—”
“No buts. Beau’s the boss and the boss gets what he wants. Simple as that.”
I want to push it, protest that this is not the way to treat your dearly departed ancestors, but it’s no use. Dad’s not interested in debating the finer point of Beau’s management style. My only solace is knowing that, like so many other things, it’ll be different when Cooper is in charge. So long as we break the Beaumont Curse in time.
We pass Cooper’s parked golf cart and walk deeper into the cemetery, past old, gothic-looking gravestones, to a tent that covers the open gravesite and offers needed shade. Even though it’s still morning, the sun is already baking. A hot breeze blows off the marsh, carrying the scent of briny water, mucky earth, and dead fish, which doesn’t help matters.
