I hold up one of the bundles from Clarissa's grave, then flip the torch over and run my fingers over the spiky, reedy ends. "Miss Delia said boo hags are obsessed with counting things. Especially stuff with bristles. If we shove these into the ground with the tallow ends down, the boo hag will get stuck counting these until dawn. When the sun rises it'll burn alive, and this nightmare will be over."

Cooper scratches his head. "So, you're not planning to do any magic?"

"Um, no? Even if I could use the mortar, the Psychic Vision was a drain. I don't trust myself to have enough energy to work a spell."

"But you took a nap," Jack says.

I nod. "I'm not a hundred percent yet. I learned my lesson with trying to cheat hoodoo. Eventually I'll build up enough resistance that it doesn't bother me much, but I'm not there yet. It doesn't matter, because Miss Delia's spell book doesn't contain any charms to kill a boo hag. All she ever told me was to salt the skin and then fry it alive in the sun."

Their faces hang slack. They're not convinced. Not by a long shot.

"Guys, trust me, okay? All we've got to do is keep the boo hag occupied for a few hours in the mullein cage. The sun has to rise. It always does."

"What if it gets out and starts to suck Cooper?" Jack asks.

"It won't. At least it shouldn't. If it does...we'll move to Plan B," I say with all the confidence I can muster.

He snorts. "There is no Plan B. There's barely a Plan A. But we're in this together and we're out of time, so let's build a boo hag coop."

A few minutes later, we've driven the twelve upside-down torches into the soft soil. They're arranged in a circle like fence posts, each about a foot apart to give Cooper room to escape after we've captured the boo hag.

Cooper wiggles into the pen between the torches. "So I'm just supposed to sit in here? And do what?"

"Wait for midnight, I suppose."

"And how do I lure it in here?" Hands on his hips, he turns around in the circle inspecting the torches.

"Trust me, I don't think there'll be any luring," Jack says. "Even before we wrecked Beau's skin, his body was on its last legs. The boo hag needs a fresh victim. It's not going to wait for an invitation."

"Jack's right. You should hold on to this, too. Just in case." I pa.s.s Cooper the broom.

He pulls out his cell phone to check the time, then sets his alarm. "Only ten minutes to go. Not too long to wait to die." Gripping the wooden broom handle, he paces around the cage.

I frown. "Hey, you're not going to die."

He stops short and turns to me. "I know." His lips twist into a faint smile that doesn't meet his eyes. His gaze reveals everything he's not saying: he's humoring me by sitting in this cage, but on the inside, he's sure he's toast.

I reach between the mullein bundles and grasp the mojo out from under his T-shirt collar. "I'm serious. You're wearing a powerful Protective Shield. It's called that for a reason. As long as you're wearing this you're going to be fine."

He wraps his hand around mine as his gaze searches my face. "Okay." His fingers are warm and strong.

As much as I might like to stand here holding his hand all night, there's work to be done. "I've only got a few minutes to figure out what do to with those artifacts we brought over from the Big House."

He releases his grip. Without looking back, I drag my box near the fire to get a better look.

Jack brings me the other cartons. "So what do you think you're supposed to do with this stuff?"

Surveying the collection, I sigh. "I'm not sure. My spirit guide made a big deal about me hauling it down here, but now she hasn't given me any new clues." I pull out a silver cup and hold it in the flickering light of the flames. Back at the Big House, when this and the other artifacts were glowing, I was sure there had to be something special about them, that they were trophies collected by the boo hag from all its victims. But now, I'm starting to wonder if that's true. There are no flashes of light, no tingles in my fingers. Not even an inscription etched into the silver.

A screech shatters the cloudy night as a shock of red streaks out of the forest, whizzes past me, and lands in the cell with Cooper. A chorus of shrieks and yelps erupts in a mixture of human and otherworldly sounds that curdle my blood.

It's the boo hag, red, slick and shining, trapped in a cage with Cooper. "You're mine!" the boo hag howls.

I scream and nearly jump out of my own skin as I throw up my hands and launch the silver cup skyward. Time seems to slow and my vision tunnels, allowing me to capture every event that happens around me.

The cup somersaults in slow motion as it falls back to earth and then crashes into the fire. Flames engulf the metal, ferociously licking its surface.

A streak of yellow light explodes from a nearby grave and launches into the night sky like a Roman candle. High above the clearing, it bursts like fireworks. But rather than cascading to the ground, the shimmering flecks of yellow iridescence hover in the atmosphere, twinkling with radiant intensity. It's one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen.

The boo hag squeals and flinches at the light, shielding its lidless eyes from its l.u.s.ter.

"The broom!" I shout to Cooper, realizing this is his opportunity to gain the upper hand and distract the boo hag into counting.

Cooper shoves the broom's straw end in the boo hag's face. "Hey, how many strands are there?"

Crouching under the glistening brilliance still floating above, the boo hag's thin, rectangular head tilts toward the broom as its bulging eyes lock onto the bristles. It extends its three-fingered hands toward the broom. "Give it to me!"

Cooper backs away, guiding the boo hag to the center of the cage. He points the broom's end to a mullein bundle. "Only if you promise to count these too."

The boo hag lunges to the post. It clutches its crimson hands around the bundle, becoming mesmerized by the strands and murmuring to itself. Cooper turns sideways and slips between two of the mullein torches. Then he tosses the broom in the center of the cage and races over to us.

"Dude, that was a close one!" Jack slaps Cooper on the shoulder.

Cooper's chest rises and falls as he gasps for breath. "I've got to admit I had my doubts, but man, you were right."

I shake my head. "No. Miss Delia was right."

We watch as the boo hag combs its three-fingered hands through the strands on the post. When it finishes, it hops to the next and begins its count again.

Cooper tilts his head back to look at the light hovering above the clearing. "Is that a spirit? It sparkles like my mom."

"I think so. It shot out when I dropped the cup into the fire. Whatever it is, it scared the c.r.a.p out of the boo hag." I glance at the silver that's still burning in the flame. Funny. I'd have guessed it might have begun to melt by now.

"What if you tossed in the rest?" Jack asks.

Just as I'm about to tell him that's the dumbest idea ever, that one artifact sacrificed by accident is bad enough, but a hundred on purpose is unforgivable, I reconsider. If the boo hag is frightened, even pained by one stolen Beaumont spirit, what could happen if a hundred are released? The light could be bright enough to rival the sun and we might not have to wait until dawn. If we're lucky, this horror show could be over in a few minutes.

"You're a genius!" A surge of adrenaline shoots through my blood stream as I throw my arms around my brother and give him a hug.

"Of course I am. Why are you so surprised?" he asks.

But rather than answer him and stroke his ego, I dive toward the nearest box and start unloading items into the fire. "Help me!" I cry and point to the other two crates of artifacts.

One by one, the items drop into the fire, feeding the flames like a giant bellows. The graveyard explodes like a bank of fireworks at New Year's Eve as yellow spirits leap from the soil and soar toward the heavens in a stunning pyrotechnics spectacle. The cemetery is bathed in bright, glowing light as spirits dash around and spin with joy as if released from a near-eternal confinement.

With each new burst, the boo hag screams and writhes and shades its eyes, yet continues to obsess over its counting.

Jack lifts the pirate's knife. "What should I do with this? It was on the shelf with the other stuff before we took it from the study."

He's right. If we hadn't found it that day encrusted with dried boo hag blood, we wouldn't have known to try a Psychic Vision. "Might as well toss it in, too."

He throws it into the fire with the other objects. The fire blazes, but just like the silver cup, the artifacts appear to remain intact and undisturbed by the flames. When the last of the collection has been added, the boo hag is cringing on the ground, curled around the broom in the center of the mullein cage, relentlessly counting the strands of straw.

My heart sinks. Though the sky is as bright as a ballpark at night, the light has only incapacitated the boo hag and hasn't ended its existence. Is it too much to hope the Beaumont spirits will hang around until the sun rises? At least they'll help keep it cowering and confined in our makeshift jail.

An icy wind blows over the graveyard, sending chills up my spine. A deep, rolling laugh echoes across the clearing.

I've heard that sound before. It's the stuff of my deepest nightmares. Pivoting on my heels, I turn around.

A small but stocky woman with scarified ebony skin is standing atop of one of the gravestones at the far side of the clearing. She's dressed in coa.r.s.e, dingy-white clothes and her hair is wrapped in a turban. A stubby, dark-colored root juts out from her mouth.

My heart leaps into my throat.

It's Sabina, the African root doctress who created The Creep and the Beaumont Curse nearly three hundred years ago. And she's coming for us.

Chapter Thirty-two.

Sabina grinds the root between her crooked teeth. "You've been busy, haven't you, girl?" Her voice is low and gruff, with a jagged edge. The fragrant scent of wisteria floods the clearing, a deceptively sweet but highly poisonous flower. I don't need the olfactory clue to know to stay away. I've seen her work up close and personal and I know how evil she is.

"Emma? Who's that?" Cooper points to Sabina who, despite standing beneath the canopy of luminous light, appears cloaked in shadow.

Not wanting to draw Sabina's attention to the only Beaumont heir, I ignore him. Gathering my courage and wits, I swallow hard. "I-I don't know what you're talking about."

She disappears. A moment later she reappears standing atop a broken stone about halfway across the clearing. "Oh, I'm sure you do. You think I don't keep watch of my spells and who's trying to break them? I've had my eye on you for a while, child."

Jack steps next to me and puffs his skinny chest. "What do you want?"

She raises a squat finger at him. "You best stay back, boy."

Though I'm more than half a foot shorter, I stand in front of him to act as a shield. "He doesn't mean you any harm, Sabina." I toss in her name hoping to clue Jack and Cooper into how serious this is and prevent them from doing something heroic and stupid.

She chuckles, but it's menacing and full of loathing. "I'm sure of that. Not that he could if he tried."

"He couldn't. He doesn't know hoodoo."

One narrow brow arches. "But you do, don't you? Enough to mess with what I set forth so many moons ago." She hops off the gravestone and levitates off the ground.

I stay put, tapping an unknown source of strength. "I haven't done anything to hurt you. I've only helped my brother and friend."

Her irises vanish and her eyes glow white. "You've destroyed my plans!" She stretches her mouth wide, magnifying her voice until it shakes the ground.

A bitter gust whips through the graveyard, stinging my skin.

"Em?" Jack murmurs.

Sickly sour saliva coats the back of my constricted throat. "Get back, Jack. You too, Cooper." My teeth chatter as I force out the words. Thankfully they listen, moving without any argument.

The spirit lights swarm together, brightening as they coalesce, then vibrate and buzz like a giant swarm of bees.

Sabina glowers at the sky. Raising her fist, she splays her fingers out. "Be gone!" A blast of air shoots straight up, slams into the brilliant orbs, and scatters them across the entire cemetery. The buzzing quiets and they hang still as their light dims.

Laughing, Sabina flies straight for me, stopping just inches from my face. Her eyes are two empty pools of malevolence. The air is icy and smells of bitterness and venom. "You, little girl, have listened to the doctress and that worthless guide of yours. Do you know what that makes you?"

I shake my head. "N-no." My voice is just barely above a whisper.

"A traitor!" she bellows, blowing frigid air over my face and up my nose. Her breath is laced with the corrosive scent of the deadly Blue Root clenched between her teeth.

A traitor? To who? Not her, that's for sure. I'd never play for Sabina's team. Ever.

She hovers above the ground. "I worked my spells for a reason. It is not for you to decide when the Beaumonts have suffered enough. I won't be satisfied until they are gone forever." The fire flickers, drawing her attention. The pirate's dagger sits atop the pile of burning artifacts. Her nostrils flare as she scowls, her brow creases with thick, dark lines and her eyes blaze with hatred and betrayal. "And now you attempt to purify that knife? Even when you know the evil it has committed?"

"Purify? No, that's not-"

She thrusts her stout palm in my face. "You have overstepped your bounds for the last time. Prophesy or no, your destiny must not be fulfilled." Still floating on air, she zooms backward into the middle of the clearing, then tosses her head back and gazes up into the sky, yelling something in a language I don't recognize. It must be ancient Akan, her native tongue.

High above the stagnant spirits, the black, shadowy clouds part, revealing the moon in its silvery glory. A stiff breeze blows off the salt marsh, through the clearing, rustling leaves and swaying sheets of Spanish moss. Emerald kudzu vines shudder and rattle as they stretch and grow, encroaching toward us from all directions.

I blink to make sure I'm not imagining things. Nope. The kudzu vines are multiplying, rapidly extending their long trailing fingers along the ground.

"Emma!" Jack yells.

"What do we do?" Cooper asks.

Honestly, I don't have the vaguest clue. I've read a lot of nature charms in Miss Delia's spell book, but never one like this. I can't begin to guess at how to make plants grow, much less attack. But even if I had, Miss Delia never got around to teaching me how to blend my energy and intention to do magic with my mind.

After glancing around to find some place to jump or escape the onslaught, I realize it's hopeless. We're at the epicenter of the clearing, the bull's-eye target for Sabina's advancing threat. The nearest tombstone is too far away, and even if I could jump up on it, it's so thin and tilted, it would never hold me, much less Jack and Cooper, too.

Cooper races to my side.

"Stay behind me!" I thrust my palm against his chest and push him back.

He shakes his head. "We're going to face this together."

"Emma, it's coming!" Jack screams, his voice filled with panic.

I twist around to see his eyes are as wide as silver dollars. A thick green vine leaps up from the ground and lashes around Jack's ankle. He screams, and then bends to pull at the snaking greenery, but another strand lurches toward him, binding both his wrists to his already bound ankle. A third, leggy cord whips around his free limb, effectively hog-tying him. He wrenches against the restraints, but another, thicker vine lengthens and encircles his waist. Top heavy and unbalanced, he crashes to the ground.

"Jack!" I shriek and pivot to run to him, but two bright green kudzu ropes la.s.so both my shins, then coil around the rest of my legs and hips, rooting me where I stand.

Cooper isn't spared either. Vines spiral both his ankles. When he reaches to free me from my ties, two more kudzu lines leap up and corkscrew around his elbows, pinning him in place.