Fine, but that doesn't mean I'm okay with the emo crack. Still, my shoulders relax. "So what's your point?"

"We knew this was coming, Em. Missy isn't like Beau's other wives who kept the necklace locked in a safe. He was bound to notice it wasn't hanging around her neck." He releases my wrist and goes back to chomping his breakfast.

"Yeah, but I was hoping for a little extra time so we could get past Cooper's birthday. Or maybe after the summer when we were all off the island and back at school."

He laughs. "Nice fantasy but totally unrealistic." He rubs the faint stubble on his chin. "Maybe it's good that Beau thinks the museum burglars took it. It'll throw him off our trail. At least for a little while."

I arch an eyebrow. "Um, do I have to remind you that we're the burglars?"

"Technically, you and Cooper are. I'm just the getaway driver." He grins.

"You're guilty by a.s.sociation."

"That's up to a jury to decide. And thanks to Miss Delia's Semi-Invisibility Charm, it's not going to come to that." Tipping the bowl to his mouth, he gulps the last of his milk and then sc.r.a.pes the last remaining flakes with his spoon.

"I hope so. From what Beau said last night, he's taking things personally. Which is kind of weird since he's only a donor. I mean, why would he care if the museum lost the mortar and pirate's dagger? It's not like they're valuable to anyone besides us."

Belching, Jack shrugs. "You know Beau. His family's been here so long he thinks he owns everything. Even a museum about the Gullah. But it doesn't matter what he thinks if he doesn't have any evidence. Pinning the necklace on the burglars is better than him finding out what really happened." Shoving his hand in his pocket, he pulls out his third of the broken ruby and rolls it onto the kitchen table. Even though its cuts are jagged and uneven, the stone fragment is dazzling in the morning sunlight.

My thigh heats, just like last night, except now it's way hotter. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my own ruby, which strangely feels icy cold to the touch. Once again, I'm totally confused by what my spirit guide is trying to tell me. How the heck am I supposed to interpret hot skin and a cold rock? I've already messed up once. With Cooper's birthday just over three weeks away, I don't have time to screw up again or he'll lose his soul.

My fingers freeze and I drop the stone. It bounces, then rolls across the table as if drawn toward Jack's piece, stopping only when the two pieces click against each other. Like two jigsaw pieces, the fragments are perfectly aligned along the fault line where they split, though the crack is still super obvious.

Jack taps his piece to nudge them apart, but the two fragments remain stuck together. "What the-"

Deja vu kicks in as I reach over and tug on my piece. It doesn't budge. Pulling a bit harder, I manage to break apart the bond between the two pieces. I think I understand what's happening. It's got nothing to do with the Protective Shield. "Cool. It's like a lodestone."

"A what?" Jack asks.

"Lodestone. They're like natural magnets. Miss Delia has a ton of them. She uses them in all kinds of spells. I think they're some kind of iron ore or something."

"But how can a ruby have the same properties as a magnet?"

"I'm not sure but I'm guessing the magic in the ancestors' mortar seeped into the stone when it exploded. There's no telling what kind of power it picked up." And after everything we've seen this summer, I'm not about to question it.

The front door creaks opens. Jack and I scoop up our rubies and slip them into our pockets. Dad's work boots clunk onto the plastic tray by the door and his footsteps pound through the living room.

Moments later, Dad enters the kitchen in his socks. A neat freak, I think he'd rather have a coronary than wear shoes in the house. His face is chiseled with wrinkles and his temples look grayer than normal. I bet he's been working since dawn.

His eyes brighten when he sees us. "Hey, kids. I'm surprised you're still around. Figured you'd be out causing trouble with Cooper by now."

Jack rubs his eyes. "Late night. We'll probably head out soon. Unless...you need me to stay around and help you some more." He looks apprehensive, as if he's only asking to be nice.

Dad laughs, but it's tinged with weariness. He lifts the coffeepot from the machine on the counter and pours a fresh mug. "Nah. I appreciated your help with the storm cleanup, but now that we've repaired the last of the broken shutters, I've just got to run to the hardware store for some paint. I might even get to take the afternoon off."

Jack smiles. "Awesome. 'Cause I didn't want to deal with any more fallen trees."

Dad smirks. "I know. It must be tiring watching me chop all that wood." He takes a swig of coffee. "I'm hungry. You want some pancakes? You haven't touched that cereal of yours, Emma. And I know you can always eat again, Jack."

"Heck yeah." Jack rubs his unfairly flat midsection.

Although my talk with Jack didn't fix our problems, it has calmed my stomach, at least a little bit. Plus Dad's homemade pancakes are about the best in the world. "Yeah, that would be great." I dump the untouched cereal back in the box.

Dad opens the cupboard and pulls a bag of flour, some sugar, and a box of baking powder from the shelf.

The phone rings. Jack jumps to answer, knowing better than to ignore it. No one ever calls on that line except Beau or Missy, and it's usually to demand something ridiculous. Personally, I don't get why my father takes their c.r.a.p, but it's his job, one he takes very seriously, so we don't give him too much trouble about it.

"h.e.l.lo?" Jack's eyes stretch wide. "Hang on, this isn't Jed. Let me get my dad." Covering the mouthpiece, Jack shakes his head. "She's totally freaking out. Like more than normal. Says it's an emergency." He hands over the receiver.

No matter what it is, whether it's hanging a drape or changing a lightbulb, in Missy's world, it's always an emergency. Though considering the argument we witnessed between her and Beau last night, maybe there's a reason for it.

Dad takes a deep breath before he lifts the phone to his ear. "Yes, Missy, what can I do for you?" I can't make out her specific words, but from the m.u.f.fled sounds I can hear, I'm fairly sure she's crying. Dad's brow creases. "Slow down. I don't understand. What's going on? Is it Beau?" He exhales. "All right. Is it the plumbing? Do you smell gas? Then what's the problem?" Moments pa.s.s before he pinches the bridge of his nose and asks, "What do you mean broken?" More indiscriminate whelps emerge. He sighs. "Okay. I've got to run to the hardware store first. I promised Beau I'd finish the shutters today." Her shrieks pierce through the speaker, causing Dad to yank the phone from his ear.

"It can't wait." Missy's voice screams from the earpiece, nearly as loud as if she was standing right next to us. "Now get over here and do your job. Unless you want to lose it!" She wails then breaks into uncontrollable sobs.

"Okay. Don't cry. I'll be right there." He cuts off the call then stands frozen as if he doesn't know what to do next.

"What the heck was that about?" Jack brows are quirked.

Dad yanks himself out of his daze and turns to us, a blank look on his face. "I'm going to need to a rain check on that breakfast."

Cooper, Jack, and I exit the hardware store, our arms laden with supplies for my dad. My stomach grumbles. Again.

"Excuse me." I shift my bags to rub my still-empty and grouchy stomach. After Dad's freaky call from Missy, I forgot all about breakfast. Instead, Jack and I waited for Cooper to pick us up and then drive into Beaufort to get the paint and other stuff Dad called about after he got to the Big House. I'm not sure why he needs drywall tape and joint compound but there's never any rhyme or reason to Missy's demands, so it's not worth contemplating. It might even be related to the Great Burglar Menace, which means there's no worry at all.

Jack's head snaps toward me when my stomach growls again. "Come on, Em. That's the fourth time in an hour. Can we please get you something to eat? You're making me hungry. Let's load this stuff in the car and get a burger or something." He points across the street to Daisy's Diner, one of our favorite spots.

Now that he's mentioned food, the pit in my belly seems to have grown deeper. But we didn't come out for lunch and, unlike Jack, I can hold out if I have to. "What about Dad?"

"We won't be long. Heck, we can even take it to go. But if I have to listen to your stomach again, I might go crazy," Jack says.

"Look, it's Taneea," Cooper says.

"Where?" I twist my head to see where he's pointing.

"Ta who?" Jack asks, craning his neck. "Oh. Dang." His eyes look as if they're about to pop from their sockets.

There she is on the sidewalk, in giant black sungla.s.ses, texting on her iPhone. She's wearing yet another statement piece, a curve-hugging, black mini-tank dress and bright pink platform espadrilles that perfectly match her fuchsia streaks. The diamond stud above her lip glints in the sun.

Where's Miss Delia? I scan both sides of the street to see if she's parked her great-grandmother on the sidewalk. But the only things I see are a pair of wrens hopping around the base of a small turkey oak foraging for insects. Out of nowhere, a big, fat crow dives out of the sky, aiming for the tawny little birds, scaring them into flight. The crow squawks in triumph as it flies away, its raspy call so loud it resonates all the way down the block.

"Who is she?" Jack leans over me to get a good look. "And how do you two know her when I don't?"

"We met yesterday," Cooper says. "She's Miss Delia's great-granddaughter. From Chicago."

"What's she doing here?" Jack asks.

"Apparently hard time," I mumble under my breath because I know it's not exactly charitable to be so mean. But given the move she tried to make on Cooper yesterday, she totally deserves it.

"Officially she's here to help Miss Delia for the summer," Cooper says, ever the optimist and proponent of the bright side.

"Unofficially it's because her mom kicked her out," I add.

Jack's eyes brighten with understanding. "That explains a lot." His eyes travel the lengthy distance between her eyebrow ring and hot pink toenails.

Just then, a big, old-looking black car with dark tinted windows pulls up to the curb. Taneea smiles and tosses her cell into her oversize black leather bag. Flipping her s.h.a.ggy bangs, she prances around to the pa.s.senger side, opens the door, and disappears inside. The engine revs then speeds down the street.

Cooper scratches his temple. "After all she said yesterday, I didn't think she knew anyone down here."

"I guess she made a friend," I say. Based on that getup of hers, it probably wasn't hard.

Jack laughs as he shoves the supplies in the trunk. "Wow, I bet she's a ton of fun."

I watch as the car disappears from sight. "Or a bucket of crazy. Doesn't she know not to climb into a car with a stranger?"

"Maybe she's lonely," Cooper says. "What do you think, Jack? She's available. You're available. Maybe you two should hang out. You're a little weird, but you're safer than a random dude with tinted windows."

Jack's smile slips. "No thanks."

"Hey, I didn't mean-"

"No, it's not that. Ever since Maggie, you know, left, I've sworn off chicks."

Maggie didn't leave so much as disappear. Literally. Because she was a ghost, killed nearly three hundred years ago by b.l.o.o.d.y Bill and his pirates. And until we broke The Creep, she was his girlfriend.

"Breakups suck, bro," Cooper says. "Maybe a new girlfriend is what you need to get over her."

"Maybe I don't want to get over her." Jack's voice is quiet. "At least not yet."

Chapter Five.

Back at the Big House, we haul in Dad's supplies. Something smashes down the hall.

Tensing, Cooper shoots me a look. Without a word, he gently sets down his can of joint compound. Following his lead, Jack and I place our bags on the ground.

Another crash sounds, followed by a yelp.

Jack rakes his fingers through his thick, black hair. "Aw, man. Now what?"

Together we creep through the foyer, past the library. Another bang, followed by a thunk. Whatever it is, it's coming from the great room with the picture windows that overlook St. Helena Sound. Picking up our pace, we sprint past Beau's private study and burst through the double French doors at the end of the hall.

We stop short.

"What the-" Jack's jaw drops.

Missy is trashing the place. Standing on a stepladder in her spiky heels, she yanks books from the wall-length case in a frenzy, tossing them blindly behind her into the middle of the room. Each leather-bound volume lands with a clunk, crashing into whatever is in its path. A porcelain lamp sails off a side table, smashing to pieces when it hits the planked floor.

But that's not the only damage. The sofas have been stripped of their cushions, which are scattered around the room, their zippers ripped open and batting yanked out. Window fixtures hang c.o.c.keyed as if wrenched from the wall and the drapes lie in heaps on the floor. Every desk and side table drawer has been pulled free, their contents upended.

Cooper rushes to her. "Missy! What are you doing?"

She turns to him, her shiny blue eyes crazed and glossy. "Get out of here!" Her normally silky platinum hair is wild and frayed and looks remarkably like a bird nest. Pink lipstick is smeared across her mouth, the bright color extending beyond her lip line.

"No. This is my house, too."

"I'm the Mistress of the Plantation, and what I say goes!" Her voice is shrill. With a grunt, she reaches for another volume and flings it. It soars across the room, bounces off a disemboweled throw pillow, and plunks against the sideboard along the wall.

"Please get down before you get hurt." Cooper's voice is soft but stern as he reaches up to clasp her arm.

"Don't touch me!" She glares and jerks away, shifting her weight and wobbling the stepladder. Off balance, she overcorrects and tips forward, then topples to the ground. Jack and I sprint forward. She wails. "See what you made me do?"

Cooper's eyes stretch wide. "I tried to help you!"

Despite the anger in his gaze, he reaches his hand to lift her up.

And that's why I love Cooper Beaumont. As wretched as Missy has been to him, and as much as I know he detests her, he still manages to be compa.s.sionate.

Swatting him away, she scrambles off the floor, then rubs her b.u.t.t and elbow. "I don't need your help. It's not like y'all can find what I need anyway." Her lips twist into a sneer as she turns her back and rummages through a cabinet beneath the built-in bookcase.

"Could we try?" Though as I survey the wreckage, I'm not sure where to start.

"No thanks, Edith," she says, calling me the wrong name as usual. "I'll handle it myself. Can't trust anybody to do anything right around here." She yanks a stack of folders from the cabinet and tosses them aside.

Jack grinds his teeth as he flashes me a look. We both know who really runs this place and it's definitely not Missy. He's somewhere in this house no doubt fixing another of her messes. But pointing that out would cause Dad more trouble than it's worth.

"Why are you tearing everything apart?" Cooper asks.

Crawling away from the now-empty cabinet, she moves on to the next. "That's none of your business."

"That's where you're wrong. These are my family's things. Some of them antiques that stretch back centuries." He stoops to pick up a jagged piece of an old brown spirits bottle that used to sit on the shelf. "You broke this. And I want to know why." His words are hard and laced with bitterness.

She wheels around and stands, her hands planted on her hips. "Isn't it obvious?"

Cooper's eyes meet mine. I shrug. Jack does the same.

Cooper shakes his head. "No."

"Duh, I'm looking for something. But seeing as it's not here, it must be somewhere else in this house."