My ears prick, but for all I know that could be another symptom of my epic headache and still-twisted memories. But the stinging intensifies, so I lean into the room. “What was that?”
They stop short.
“It sounded like something just broke.” I point toward the wall.
Heaving for breath, Jack launches on top of the displaced mattress and peeks his head between the bed and the wall. “Is there something you want to tell us, Coop? When did you start playing with dolls?”
Cooper frowns. “What are you talking about?”
Jack reaches his hand down. “See for yourself.” He retrieves a palm-sized, antique, ceramic kewpie doll that’s fractured in two pieces. A tuft of Spanish moss sticks out of the crack that splits its stomach. Jack thrusts it in Cooper’s direction.
I gasp as goose bumps rush over my body. “Don’t let him touch it! Give it to me right now.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
Jack jumps off the bed and runs across the room to hand me the broken kewpie doll. My heart races as I slide down the wall and sit on the floor in the hallway. Though the chubby little doll has a happy, cherubic face, there’s definitely something scary, even demonic, about its enormous, offset painted eyes. I’ve never seen one of these in person before, but I’ve read about them in Miss Delia’s spell book. This one gives me the creeps. Things are beginning to make sense.
Jack plants himself next to me.
Cooper hovers in the doorframe. “That’s not mine.”
“I’m sure it isn’t. But someone created it for you,” I answer.
“Huh?” He steps into the hall and kneels across from me and Jack.
“What is it?” Jack asks.
“A doll baby. Some people also call them poppets. Either way, they’re used in coercive spells. Depending on what you put in them, you can pretty much make anyone do anything you want.”
“You mean like a voodoo doll?” Jack asks.
“That’s not what hoodoo root workers call them, but yeah, it’s essentially the same idea.”
“What’s this one used for?” Cooper’s voice is filled with apprehension.
“Only one way to find out.” Grasping the broken ceramic doll, I pull the two sections apart and lay the bottom half on the floor next to me. Its strange black eyes stare up at me as I tug on the wad of Spanish moss that must have been stuffed into its belly through the little round holes in the bottom of its feet. Placing the doll’s top half in my lap, I unfurl the long, green, spongy material on the carpet runner, then pick out the tiny magical herbs and roots that are mixed in.
My thigh warms under the broken kewpie’s bulbous head. By now, I’ve learned to recognize my spirit guide’s clues. Glancing down, I pick up what’s left of the ceramic doll, turn it over, and peer inside. Just as I suspected, something red is shoved all the way at the top. Poking my fingers inside, I pry out the soft, rolled piece of cloth then spread it out on the floor. It’s a two-sided, hand-sewn piece of flannel, cut in the shape of a person and stuffed with fluff. But that’s not the most disturbing part. A tiny photograph of Cooper’s face is glued to its head.
My mind reels. This explains everything.
“What does it mean?” Cooper asks.
I flick my finger at all the stuff I pulled from the moss. “Each of these are used in standard red magic spells to draw love. They’re pretty basic ingredients and generally harmless.” But then I point to the little red man adorned with Cooper’s smile. “But this is different. It’s a poppet that’s obviously supposed to be you. You’ve been allured.”
“Dang,” Jack says.
“What am I missing?” Cooper shoots me a blank stare.
Why isn’t this obvious to him? I lean forward. “Someone put a love charm on you.”
He narrows his gaze. “Someone? Are you sure it wasn’t
My jaw drops and I recoil. “Don’t be an idiot. I’m the one who heard the thing break. Why would I have pointed it out if I had planted in the first place?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe you figured I’d find it when it broke loose and thought it would be better to act innocent to throw off suspicion.”
Jack’s brow contorts. “Dude, you’re messed up. Emma didn’t plant it. I think it’s obvious who did.”
“Who?” Cooper asks, looking genuinely oblivious.
Jack and I exchange looks before we both turn back to Cooper and say in unison, “Taneea.”
Cooper shakes his head. “That’s insane. Besides you don’t have any proof.”
“Hello, what more proof do you need than this?” I pick up the little red poppet and flick it at him but something crackles inside its belly. “Hang on a second.” Yanking on the loose, hand-sewn, red thread that binds the two pieces of flannel together, I poke open a hole, then pull it farther apart with my fingers. It’s stuffed with a few thin strands of Spanish moss. Pushing them aside, I fish around and retrieve a thin scrap of paper that’s folded in fours.
Laying the packet on the floor next to the love-spell ingredients, I carefully fold it open once, anticipating what I’m about to find. This isn’t an ordinary piece of pulp. It’s naming paper used in advanced hoodoo spells. Whoever did this was no amateur. If Taneea was involved, she had help, which I’m guessing was dressed in a sharp black suit and blue sunglasses.
Swallowing hard, I flip the last fold. There are two handwritten spells scribbled on the scrap of paper and two pieces of hair, one golden-brown, the other pink. The first contains Cooper’s name written in script three times in red ink, then crisscrossed with Taneea’s three times in black.
It’s a common
Relief slides off my shoulders. At least I know for sure he didn’t choose Taneea over me. But then my cheeks flush with anger. How could she do this to him?
“Is that for real?” Jack’s voice is hushed.
Cooper shakes his head. “No. It can’t be.”
“It is. And there’s more than just her name and handwriting. She combined your
His brow crinkles. “I don’t believe it. Taneea cares about me. And I care about her.”
Jack rolls his eyes. “You only think you do. That’s the whole point of the spell.”
Cooper glares at him, his icy-gray eyes look as if they could freeze him on contact. “She wouldn’t do that to me.”
Jack turns to me. “Obviously he’s not thinking straight. What do we need to break the charm?”
“Destroy it.”
Cooper’s chest puffs up. “You’re not destroying anything!” He dives for the folded naming paper and red- flannel man, nearly slamming into me.
“Hey!” I yell, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he yanks the spell components up off the carpet runner, then scrambles to his feet and charges toward the stairs in those awful fluorescent sneakers.
Without my needing to ask, Jack takes off after him.
What the heck is going on with Cooper? First he didn’t believe the charm was real, and now he wants to protect it? This spell is one tough mother. We can’t let it do any more damage. It’s got to be broken now.
Raising my voice, I call after Jack. “Get those things and bring them back to me. No matter what you do, don’t let them get away.”
