The vision loses focus and begins to flicker.

"Shh, you'll ruin it," I snap.

The guys hunker down and direct their attention to the vision. The movie picks up pace and the images brighten.

Missy rises from her vanity. "Beau, sugar!" Her mouth is twisted in a big, red, garish smile. "I'm surprised to see you upstairs." She baby steps across the carpet in her stilettos. "After our little tiff, I thought you were going to punish me by sleeping in your study again. I was fixing to come down and surprise you with a little midnight snack."

Beau doesn't look amused or grateful. "I thought I made my position on your incessant destruction perfectly clear." His jowls jiggle with each word.

She reaches her hand to stroke his ma.s.sive chest. "You did, baby, but what's the expression? Nothing searched for, nothing found?" She bats her lashes.

His eyes narrow. "That's not it."

She shrugs. "Oh. Who cares anyway? The point is-"

"The point is, you've wrecked my son's room."

Her shoulders slump and her lips pucker in a cherry-red pout. "How else am I supposed to find that goll-darn ruby necklace?"

His nostrils flare and his pasty gray skin flushes pink. "I fail to see what that has to do with Cooper. Your thieving friends weren't on the second floor the night of the party."

She pats his chest. "Now, sweetie, don't get yourself upset. You know how poorly your circulation is. You're liable to have a coronary. And you know I'd be plum lost without you. Besides, I'm sure my friends didn't take your ruby." A smile crosses her lips.

He totters on his cane. "I must have that necklace. Why hasn't Corbeau identified the thieves yet?" Beau starts to sway. Missy plants her arms against his chest to steady him, but she's far too small to keep him upright. Instead, she uses his momentum to push him toward the sitting room area at the far side of the bed. Heaving for air, Beau plops his ma.s.sive girth in the love seat. His face turns alabaster and his lips are an almost purply-black hue. Gasping, he points to the small console table by the wall. "Scotch!" His voice ripples with mucus.

She scampers to pour him an extra large tumbler. "Here you go, baby. Drink up!" She tips the crystal gla.s.s to his lips and he swills it down.

Within seconds, his skin returns to its normal pasty gray.

She smiles as she saunters to the bureau opposite the bed. "There, there. Now, I don't want to upset you, but there's something you need to see. I was going to bring it to you later, but now's just as good." She slides open the drawer and slips her hand under a cashmere sweater. Spinning around, she thrusts the pirate's dagger at Beau.

He perks up, launching himself forward on the love seat. "That was stolen from the King Center."

"I know. Yet I found it here at High Point Bluff." She walks toward him, but rather than using her normal, cutesy-baby shuffle, she takes several long, determined strides to the love seat.

He quirks his head. "I don't understand."

"Your son stole it."

His wide brow creases. "Impossible."

The blade shines, reflecting the light in the corner of the bedroom.

"It was hidden in his bookshelf. One of those fancy textbooks of his is really a secret compartment, probably uses it to hide drugs or something." Knife in hand, she flicks her wrist and stabs the air with each word. "I thought he'd been acting squirrely, being helpful when he was really trying to see if I found his stash. Well, sonny-boy has met his match. It's just a matter of time before I find that other rock-thing that was stolen... What's it called? A mortal?"

"Mortar." Beau deadpans.

Her lips curl. "What?"

"The other artifact that was stolen. It's a mortar. Not a mortal."

She shrugs. "Whatever, it doesn't matter, because when we get Mr. Corbeau and the sheriff involved they're going to cart Cooper and his freaky little friends off to jail. I wouldn't blame you if you disinherited him tomorrow."

With a grunt, Beau hoists himself off the sofa. "Oh, but it matters a great deal. You see a mortal is a living human being who is subject to death. A mortar, on the other hand, is used to grind spices." Leaning hard against his cane, he advances toward her, then lifts the dagger from her hand and sets it down on the console with the scotch decanter.

"Okay, I'll be sure to use the right word when I call the sheriff."

He shakes his head, waggling his jowls. "You won't be doing that."

"Why?"

He steps toward her. "Because I have plans for Cooper and his friends. Crucial, long-range plans that require his utmost freedom and access to his inheritance. He will not be arrested, nor will he serve even a minute's worth of jail time. Nor will Emma and Jack. You see, Emma and Cooper are to be married, and Jack will, as every Guthrie before him, become Cooper's faithful servant."

She inches backward. "But he stole from the museum."

"I don't care."

"He probably took your ruby."

"That, I care about. But if he does in fact have it, my problems will cease to be problems. All will be well and our future will be secure."

"Huh?"

He snickers. "You are pretty, but you are so stupid."

"No I'm not. I'm the one who figured out who the burglars are."

"And I sincerely thank you for that because now I can rest comfortably knowing that I need only to make it to Cooper's birthday and then all my plans will come to fruition, just as they have for nearly three hundred years."

"I-I don't understand." She steps backward, deeper into the room.

"Of course not, sugar. Because as I said earlier, you lack the intellectual capacity to comprehend such things. You have been a mildly amusing distraction these last few months, but I think it's time to go. Don't feel too bad. You were only supposed to be here another couple weeks anyway."

"I'm not leaving. I'm the Mistress of the Plantation!"

"Not for long." He throws his head back and extends his jaw wide. Placing his palms on either side of his face, he tugs on his skin. It pulls, slipping loose from around his eye sockets and nose. His mouth stretches open. A slick, scarlet figure emerges from the gaping pit, shedding Beau's gelatinous skin like a giant rubber suit.

It's the boo hag, glistening with wet, slimy, mucus. Beau's flesh lies hollow and vacant at its feet, pooled on the stark, white carpet.

Missy screams.

"I have waited for this moment." The boo hag advances, flying at her in one fluid leap. It s.n.a.t.c.hes her jaw with its three suction-cup-tipped fingers. Tilting its narrow, rectangular head, it goggles her as if she's a fine piece of art. "I've taken little sips here and there while you slept, especially after the ruby went missing and this body broke down. You have no idea how difficult it's been to restrain myself. The dumb ones are always the most tasty. Do you know why?" Its lispy, sloshy voice is just as terrifying in a vision as in person. It runs its long lizard-like tongue across its slash of a mouth.

Her eyes bulge. "N-n-no."

The red monster leans toward her. "Too much thought toughens the prey. So I'm guessing you'll be especially delicious. It has been a challenge to wait, but I've learned over the years that too much death tends to raise suspicions. As soon as I retrieve the ruby, I won't need quite so many sacrifices to maintain the possession. But these are no longer your concerns. Since you'll be dead."

"You don't have to kill me. I could run away and never come back just like your second and third wives. I swear, I won't tell anybody. No one would believe me anyway."

"There are a few things you don't understand. They didn't leave me. I enjoyed killing them just as I will enjoy killing you, too." It gleams a toothless grin, then lunges for her, s.n.a.t.c.hing her by the throat with both three-fingered hands. Missy's feet dangle above the cushy white carpet.

Missy's skin flushes as she chokes and gasps for air. She reaches out her right hand, fumbling for the pirate's knife that Beau set on the console table next to the bottle of scotch.

The boo hag extends its ma.s.sive, square jaw, and turns on its vacuum suction. Missy shudders and her eyes roll up in to her head as the boo hag sucks her life force from her body. A curling white mist floats out of her nose and mouth and inches toward the gaping hole in the boo hag's face.

Missy's fingertips graze the knife's wooden hilt. Stretching another half inch, she grabs the dagger and plunges it into the boo hag's side. A few drops of black sludge spatter the rug.

The boo hag shrieks. It's red eyes flash with eerie, crimson light. Clutching her throat tighter, it launches into the air in a rage, careening through the sitting area and into the master bath, leaving a trickle of blood along its path. It slams her head against a tile wall. She reaches for the knife again, but the boo hag pulls the blade from its side, releasing a gush of chunky, black muck that sprays Missy's nightie and smatters the floor. Opening its mouth once again, the boo hag sucks harder than before, consuming Missy's life force in one smooth gulp. Her face falls slack and her eyes turn empty and blind.

The boo hag drops her lifeless body on the floor then clutches its side where the knife slit its crimson skin. Hobbling back to the sitting area, it sets the knife down on the carpet and reaches for Beau's skin. It slides its long, thin, legs into Beau's rubbery mouth, and pulls the skin up over its red, meaty body like a flesh-colored wet suit. Yanking Beau's face up over its own, it snaps the elastic skin into place, adjusting Beau's eye sockets and maneuvering his nose into place. Finally, it pumps Beau's jaw, slipping it into place.

With a grunt, the boo hag in the Beau suit bends over and wipes the knife on the carpet. Wincing, it clutches its cut right side, which must be bleeding inside Beau's skin. It rises to its feet, s.n.a.t.c.hes the tumbler from the coffee table and staggers to the console holding the bottle of scotch in one hand, the dagger in the other. After it pours a giant helping, it gulps the amber liquid, then slams the gla.s.s down next to the bottle.

"Just a few more weeks, old boy. Then you'll be sixteen and carefree once again. And still very, very rich," it says aloud in Beau's familiar southern accent and then laughs. A wet, mucusy sound rattles in its chest, causing it to cough. It winces again and gropes its side.

When the wave of pain seems to have pa.s.sed, it grabs the cane with one hand and shambles to the door, holding tight to the knife.

The vision pulls back, clouding over. Sparks shoot up in the ancestors' mortar, and then die out, stifling the incense screen and dispersing the smoke.

I shake my foggy head to focus on Jack and Cooper. They're both as white as marble, revealing the same horror that's gripping my chest.

Cooper's eyes meet mine. They're filled with crushing pain and utter betrayal. "My dad's a boo hag."

Chapter Thirty.

Cooper races out of the crypt.

Jack opens his mouth to speak, but no words come. How could they? There are no words to describe the awful brutality we just witnessed, to say nothing about the vision's implications, which are so multilayered and bizarre, my brain's about to break.

How could I have been so wrong? After Missy died, there was a moment I suspected Beau was involved. But then Claude showed up pulling his super-creepy, black magic routine and I got distracted. It looks like Miss Delia was right after all-Claude just wants to wedge himself between Taneea and her, though I don't understand why.

The horrific truth is that Beau is a genuine monster. A serial killer of sorts who not only kills for sustenance but also because it appears to enjoy it. And he's gunning for Cooper next. He never liked his father, but that doesn't make this news any less excruciating.

And then there's the whole marriage-destiny thing the Beau-boo hag let slip to Missy. Cooper and me? Married? As in forever? Cripes, I'm only fourteen. I've been with him for a little over a month. How the heck am I supposed to process a fated, eternal commitment?

Jack pushes himself off the floor. "I need some air. Hoodoo's cool, but its a good thing I'm not the root worker. I don't think I could handle it." He staggers toward the door, clearly still under the tea's woozy effects.

Knowing I shouldn't leave them alone, I force myself up and drag my groggy body through the crypt. It's pouring and the sky is a sickly chartreuse, that strange yellow-green-gray that only happens during summer storms. Thick fog hugs the ground and envelops their legs. If I didn't know the mist was caused by the cool rain moisturizing the scorching air, I'd be freaked.

Jack's bent over, his hands leaning against his knees. His cheeks are puffed out, and he's dragging deep breaths through his nose.

Water streams down Cooper's face as he stares at the sky. It's probably just precipitation, but it could just as easily be tears. No one could possibly blame him for bawling his eyes out.

Fighting fatigue, I walk to his side. "Are you okay?"

"My father isn't my father. He never really was, was he?" he asks without turning away from the sky.

I shake my head. "I don't think so."

He meets my gaze. "The boo hag must have killed him when he was sixteen. Just like it wants to do to me now."

"That's what it sounds like." There's no use in sugarcoating it. That thing has an ugly agenda that it's not likely to forget.

"And it probably killed my mother, just like it killed Missy. And tried to kill you last night."

My body quakes as I remember how awful the mind suck was. I've done a good job repressing the sheer terror of my contorted memories, but after seeing what happened to Missy, I realize I was lucky. The boo hag only inhaled me for a few seconds and I retained my sanity. Missy wasn't as fortunate. No wonder she was so demented she couldn't brush her own hair and thought it was okay to destroy her home. The creature literally drove her mad.

Jack straightens and swallows hard. "That thing said it's been at this for almost three hundred years. If that's true, it must have killed every one of the Beaumonts since Sabina cast those first curses."

I gasp as a missing piece finally clicks into place. "That's why it wants the ruby back. Somehow its power is wrapped up with the Beaumont Curse."

"But we destroyed the stone," Jack says.

"The boo hag doesn't know that. It thinks I've got it. We can use that to our advantage," Cooper says, a steely glint in his eyes.

It's the first ray of hope I've felt all day.

Jack's shoulders ease. "That monster's going to be surprised when it finds out Cooper's mom turned it into heap of flower petals."

Cooper's mouth bends into a determined grin. "It'll be more than surprised. That thing stole my parents from me and destroyed my entire family. I'm going to kill it or die trying." His voice is as grim as the expression on his face.

"My vote is that you don't die," Jack says.

Cooper hitches his brow. "Mine too."

Jack turns to me. "So how do we make that happen? Cooper's birthday is tomorrow so it's probably planning a move tonight. We don't have much time to plan."

I draw a deep breath. "Well, for starters, Miss Delia said we've got to figure out where it hides its skin when it goes out at night, then salt it down so it can't climb back in. What's the most likely place the boo hag would store Beau's skin?"

A lightbulb goes off in my head. Apparently the same thing happens to Jack and Cooper because they both turn to me at the same time. "Beau's study!" we say in unison.

We spend the rest of the afternoon and evening at the caretaker's cottage waiting for the sun to set and darkness to roll in. When the clock strikes ten, we head out for the Big House, hoping the boo hag has shed Beau's skin and gone out for the night.

The sky's a deep, dusky purple, darkened by thick, opaque clouds that obscure the stars. The only light comes from the full moon that casts an eerie silver-white glow through the haze.

We trek down the path, trying to make as little noise as possible. The Big House comes into view. My heart clenches. Every light in the house is on. Which means Beau has been around. And may even be in there right now. There's only one way to find out.

Cooper opens the front door. My ears p.r.i.c.k, on alert for any indication that we're not alone. The foyer is silent. Even the air seems to hang still. We tiptoe toward the main hall, then stop short at the corner and listen for any sound. There's only silence. We crane our necks to peek at the door to Beau's private study.