Allure

Leaning over the ancestors’ mortar, Miss Delia and I each grab an end of the pirate’s dagger and hold it above the smoke. Then, with our free hands, we raise our mugs of steaming Psychic Vision tea, the ingredient to kick this spell into action.

“Bottoms up!” I laugh a little too loud and then tip the reddish-brown liquid down my throat as she does the same. Compared to my energy brew, the sour-cherry and burned-spinach flavor tastes great. Gulping it down, I smack my lips.

Miss Delia purses her lips in disgust. “You like that nasty stuff?”

I shrug. “It’s kind of good.”

I close my eyes and breath deep, waiting for my mind to clear and an incantation to spring from my lips.

Nothing comes.

Nada.

Not one single, solitary word.

I peek at the smoke above the mortar. There’s no flickering lights, no mini-movie screen on which to watch the vision. Come to think of it, the wind hasn’t blown, the rain hasn’t fallen, and there’s no clap of thunder, either.

Something’s wrong.

My heart skips a couple beats, then trips into overdrive, propelling my panic. I clutch at my collier and rub the red and white beads, which are supposed to promote spoken word and prayer. Still, no words leap from my mouth.

Adrenaline dumps into my system, increasing both my heart and respiration rate. Sucking in lungfuls of mortar smoke, I beg my mind to quiet, to find a moment of stillness to allow the spell’s words to come. But the more I try, the faster it races, and the more errant thoughts crowd in. Why am I thinking about the duck-billed platypus, the Pythagorean Theorem, and my grandfather’s scuffed wing-tip shoes, all at the same time? Forcing those images from my brain, they’re quickly replaced by even more random ideas.

“What’s happening?” Miss Delia’s voice is stern.

I lift my eyes to hers. “Nothing.”

“I can see that. But why?” She points a bony finger at me. “You’ve done something to thwart this spell.”

I shake my head. “No. Everything’s here.” I scan the worktable, making sure I haven’t screwed something up. “The ingredients are right and I know I layered them in the correct order.”

Her lips mash into a hard line. “Then why isn’t the charm working?”

I tremble. “I don’t know.” My fingers shake as I lift them to my silent, treacherous mouth. “No matter how hard I try, the incantation won’t come. I swear. I don’t understand what’s happening.”

“I think you do.” She drops the knife, causing the blade to dip down into the coals. I scoop it out and set it on the table.

I shake my head, as dumbfounded as before. “I don’t. I promise. What could possibly cause this?”

“Some kind of shortcut.” The words fly like a vicious accusation.

I recoil as they land like a jab to the chin. Guilty and caught, my shoulders sink and my chest caves. I wish I could crawl under the table and never come out. I glance up at her. “I was only trying to—”

“Outsmart hoodoo. Thinking that somehow, after only a couple months of training you’ve learned enough to outwit the laws of nature. What did you do? And tell me the truth.”

Fighting off tears, I confess everything about the energy tea, including how I created my own recipe using her spell book, the weak first batches and the last, much-more-powerful brew. Though I’ve bared my soul, I don’t feel any better. In fact, now that it’s all laid out and the consequences are becoming clear, I feel worse.

She shakes her head. “I should have known. Bouncing around here, talking a mile a minute. You had my head spinning, girl. That energy you’re feeling? It’s not real.”

How is that possible? My muscles are coiled, poised to spring. I could run a Lowcountry marathon in record time.

She must sense my confusion because she leans forward and points to my chest. “Oh, it’s got your blood pumping, all right. Your cheeks are about as red as a clown’s.” My fingers fly to my face. She’s right. It’s swollen and as hot as a match. “But instead of adding to your power, that drink of yours has sucked it dry. No wonder the Psychic Vision wouldn’t start. It’s like trying to drive a car with a giant hole in the gas tank.”

“I was just so tired.” My voice trembles. “And my resistance was building so slowly. I was afraid I wouldn’t have enough strength to break the Beaumont Curse.”

“You kids are all the same. Impatient. Headstrong. Thinking you’re so clever you can take the fast, easy route instead of putting in the work and time required for things to happen as they should. Well guess what? You can’t shortchange hoodoo.”

Her not-so-veiled comparison to Taneea stings worse than a hot poker to the skin. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“You should be,” she snaps, showing me no mercy. “Because of your little stunt, we’ve lost three good days. And we might run out of time all together.”

“I know the ancestors’ mortar needs to rest, but we can still do magic with your old mortar can’t we?”

Her brow creases. “I can. But you’re out of commission.”

“What?” A tear trickles from my eye. “Are you banning me from doing magic? Please don’t. Not with Cooper’s birthday so close. Once his soul is safe, I don’t care if I never work hoodoo again. But please don’t keep me from it now.”

She scoffs. “If only it was up to me. I’d punish you longer just to teach you a lesson. But your suspension has nothing to do with me. You’ve got to wait for that concoction of yours to work its way out of your system. You’ll be lucky if it only takes a couple days to restore your natural balance. For all I know, it could take another week.”

The room spins as the enormity of my mistake begins to sink in. Gripping the table to keep from fainting, I fight back tears. “I know I screwed up. But I didn’t mean to. I really just wanted to do something good. Doesn’t that matter for something?”

She cocks her snowy white head. “Sure, if this was a fairy tale. But this is here is real life and no matter how good your intentions, there are consequences to your actions. Those Law Keep Away spells we worked this morning? I’ve got no idea how strong they are because you weren’t working at your full strength. And did you even stop to think about what you might do to yourself with that drink? Each of those ingredients is strong on their own, but together, you’re lucky you didn’t drop dead of a heart attack. And then where would your boy be? Left with only your clueless brother and a paralyzed, old woman to save his soul.”

A wave of clammy sickness rolls over me. A moment ago I didn’t think I could feel any worse. Now, I wish I could dive into a swamp and bury myself in the muck.

“I’m so, so, sorry.” There’s nothing else I can possibly say.

“So am I.” She looks away and shakes her head. “You best leave before I really get angry.”

Chapter Nineteen

Without another word, I slip off my stool and gather my messenger bag and slink out of the kitchen. If this is semi-angry Miss Delia, I don’t want to be here when she blows for real.

I duck through the living room. “Come on, Jack.” Then push open the screen door and run out onto the porch.

“What’s going on?” Within seconds he’s followed me outside, down the steps, and through the garden.

I jump into the golf cart. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay? Let’s just go. Now.”

He stands beside the passenger side of the cart. “Huh? I don’t understand? Did you see something weird in the vision? Was it Claude? Did he do something to Missy?”

“Will you just shut up and drive?” I snap, sick of hearing his annoying voice and dumb questions.