Beneath the Black Moon (Root Sisters) (26 page)

“Who
else is in the house? Besides your family?”

“Where
are your servants?” Caro asked.

“Is
anyone visiting?” Grandma put in.

Brent’s
eyes widened as he was accosted by the two old women. Grandma gave a frustrated
sigh and pushed past him into the house, Caro on her heels. “What is going on?”

“Come
out wherever you are,” Grandma called from inside the house. “Coward… We’re
ready to face you.”

A
grin twisted the corner of Brent’s lips. “Life has been so exciting since I met
you.”

“Oh
God,” Cam groaned and followed him into the house.

“Who’s
here?” Caro asked again.

“Mr.
Anderson?” Two young women dressed in identical uniforms stood on the stairs,
gazing in confusion at the two old ladies who had invaded the house.

“Who
are they?” Grandma asked, eying them with open hostility.

“It’s
not them,” Caro told her. “Not a trace of conjure on them.”

“Well
someone in here is responsible for what happened to Cam, and I’m not leaving
until we find the bastard.” Grandma barked back. “You can go,” she added to the
two maids.

“What?”
The smile had slipped from Brent’s face at the mention of what had happened to
Cam, and now he looked positively fierce.

“Mr.
Anderson?” One of the maids asked again.

“You
may have the afternoon off,” he told them, gesturing for them to leave quickly.
“What is this all about?” He asked Cam as the door closed behind his maids.

“Mattie
Deveraux thinks that the threat we’ve been sensing is here.” Cam filled him in
quickly.

“Mattie
Deveraux?” Brent’s eyes widened. “You’re here because that woman from the creek
thinks—”

“She
knows
,” Cam told him. “Mattie knows.” They faced each other for a
moment, communicating with their eyes what couldn’t be spoken aloud.

I
have missed you.
Cam thought. Brent took a step forward
as though he wanted to embrace her, but when Caro cleared her throat, he stayed
where he was. “Now that the maids have left there’s only Hattie and my Aunt
Julia at home. John went out for a walk to clear his head, and the other servants
have the day off.”

“That
doesn’t make any sense,” Cam frowned.

“There’s
someone else here,” Caro said. “Not someone related to Mr. Anderson. Someone
malicious.”

“We
should search the house,” Grandma said.

“If
you don’t mind,” Cam added apologetically to Brent.

“Search
away.”

“Come
with me Cam,” Grandma held out her hand for her granddaughter. “We’ll search
upstairs. Caro, you go with Mr. Anderson.”

Cam
was reluctant to leave Brent with the elderly rootworker, but she didn’t argue
as her grandmother pulled her up the stairs. “Brent’s great-aunt and his
sister-in-law live up here,” Cam explained to her grandmother in a hushed tone.

 The
conjure grew in strength as they reached the top of the stairs, and Cam could
feel it humming dangerously along her skin and crackling through her hair as
they walked down the hall. “There!” Grandma said suddenly. “That room is the
focus of it.”

Cam
exhaled deeply. “That’s Hattie’s room,” she told her grandmother. “Someone
cursed her. I don’t know why. It’s odd conjure too. I didn’t recognize it; I
don’t know what it was for.”

“I
might,” Grandma said, reaching for the doorknob.

“I
don’t think you should go in there.”

“You’re
entitled to your own opinion,” Grandma assured her. “Wait here.” She opened the
door and vanished inside, closing it firmly behind her.

“Yell
if you need me,” Cam called after her.

Her
grandmother didn’t respond, and Cam sighed and crossed her arms. She took a
step backwards, listening for the even the faintest sound from inside the room.

Then,
with another step backwards, Cam backed into something. Something that wasn’t a
wall. Something that was soft and breathing and… alive.

Before
Cam could scream, a hand was clapped over her mouth, and another wrapped around
her, keeping her arms bound to her sides.

“Last
time I saw you, you looked like a
drowned rat
.” The woman’s voice was a
vicious hiss straight into her ear, menacing and. . . .  Elderly?

Cam
struggled against her captor, and the feel of wrinkled skin rubbing against her
arms as she thrashed reinforced her suspicion: the woman who held her was old,
perhaps even older than Grandma.

But
that didn’t make any sense because no matter how hard she struggled, Cam
couldn’t break free from the old woman, or even shout a warning to her
grandmother. Then again, the hands were ice cold and tingling with conjure. The
woman’s strength had to come from some sort of spell. Cam gnashed her teeth,
trying to bite the hand that kept her silent, but the woman was too strong. “Be
a good child,” the woman hissed.

Cam
flailed wildly, kicking back with her foot and hitting the woman hard in the
shin.

“Brat!”
The woman muttered a curse.

The
hand at Cam’s mouth shifted, and suddenly Cam felt something being wrapped around
her throat. It felt almost like a cord or rope, but it was very thin and oozed
conjure onto Cam’s skin. A cursed object of some sort. It burned and hummed
against Cam’s body, hot enough to blister the tender skin of Cam’s throat. When
it was wound tightly around Cam’s neck, the hand at Cam’s mouth moved, and Cam
was able to speak.

She
didn’t waste time, breathing deeply and shrieking “Grandmaaaa!”

Hattie’s
bedroom door was flung open almost immediately, and Cam could hear Caro and
Brent running for the stairs.

Grandma
paused on the threshold of Hattie’s room, her gaze going immediately to the
face of the woman who held her granddaughter. Her eyes snapped with fury, but
when she saw the cord wrapped around Cam’s neck she swallowed and didn’t move
forward to engage the woman.

Uh-oh.
It
had to be bad if Grandma was holding back. Whatever it was, it seemed to be
sapping Cam’s energy, because since it had been looped around her neck she had
barely been able to move.

“Cam?”
that was Brent.

“Daphne?”
Caro called with concern.

“Stay
back,” Cam’s captor warned Grandma.

“Cam?”
Brent called again.

“Stay
put!” Grandma called to Brent and Caro. She didn’t take her eyes off of her
granddaughter. “She has Cam.”

“Who?”
Brent sounded furious, and he started up the stairs.

“Please!”
Grandma said, her gaze going again to the rope at Cam’s throat.

“Good
girl,” the woman said condescendingly. “Now— back up. We’re all going
downstairs, and we’re going to discuss this like civilized rootworkers.”

“Let
Cam go,” Grandma said.

“Hm…
No.” The woman said icily. “Now…
walk
.”

Grandma
walked. She walked to the stairs and hesitated before starting to climb down.

“You
too brat, let’s walk.”

Now
that the woman wanted her to walk, Cam was suddenly able to move. Her captor
marched her to the top of the stairs, and Cam could see her grandmother, Brent
and Caro assembled at the bottom. There was a mirror behind them and in it Cam
caught her first glimpse of her captor. She was very old, perhaps nearing
eighty. She was tall and gaunt, with deep wrinkles and sagging jowls. But her
eyes had a mean gleam and she looked as alert as a woman half her age.

Brent’s
jaw dropped. “Aunt Julia?”

“Hello
nephew
.”

“What
are you doing?” Brent was enraged. “What are you thinking? Let go of Cam
immediately!”

“I
don’t know who you think she is,” Caro said as she squinted up at the woman,
“but her name isn’t Julia.”

“It’s
Pauline,” Grandma finished.

“What?”
Cam and Brent said in unison.

“Pauline
Pledeat— Kat Varennes’ childhood mentor from back in New Orleans.” Grandma
said. “I remember you.”

“Taught
her everything she knew,” the woman said as she and Cam began slowly walking
down the stairs. “Unfortunately for you.” She added to Daphne and Caro. “I’m
surprised you remember. I only came to this uncultured little county once to
visit Kat. Several years before you murdered her. Back up!” she added as she
and Cam moved closer. “Back into the drawing room.”

“Do
as she says,” Grandma said, grabbing Brent’s shoulder when he tensed angrily.
“See what she has around Cam’s throat? It could kill her in an instant.”

“What
are you doing here?” Caro asked as they all slowly backed towards the drawing
room.

“Isn’t
it obvious?” The woman asked, fingering the cord at Cam’s throat. “I’m here to
make you suffer and then kill you. Revenge
is
something you understand,
isn’t it?”

“Why
now?” Grandma asked.

“That’s
my business,” Pauline snapped. Cam blinked. As she and Pauline walked, she could
feel the strangest sensation running up and down her spine. It was an odd sort
of warmth that seemed to be emanating from her pocket.

Of
course
, Cam remembered suddenly. She had that charm, one
of the most powerful Caro and Grandma had ever made, in her right pocket. It
was steadily working away at the cord around Cam’s neck, weakening the hold
that it had over her. Eventually, it might dissolve the rope’s power entirely.

Thank
God for small favors
, Cam thought, meeting her grandmother’s
eyes and wondering if the old woman could sense the power of the cord
weakening.

Grandma’s
eyes gave nothing away, but she turned to glare at Brent. “And you had no idea
that your aunt was a powerful rootworker?”

“I….”
For once, Brent seemed to be lost for words.

“Oh,
poor boy,” the woman said mockingly. “Actually…. I’m afraid I have some bad
news for you. Your Great-Aunt Julia died in February of 1851.”

They
were all in the drawing room by then, and Pauline gestured for the three of
them to sit down while they digested her latest announcement.

“You’re
not my grandmother’s sister,” Brent said finally.

“I’m
sorry to disappoint you.”

“Don’t
be,” he said coldly, “it’s a relief.” He couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away
from Cam.

“How
rude,” Pauline said disapprovingly. “No— I knew that I would be going up
against several rootworkers, all of them younger than me, so I looked for a way
to sneak in. That was when I found out about your dear brother purchasing this
lovely plantation— just a short distance from Cypress Hall.”

“So
you decided to impersonate my dead aunt.” Brent filled in.

“You
didn’t know that she was dead because your grandmother didn’t know she was
dead— they hadn’t spoken in years. Of course, all it took was a little scrying
to find that out, and voila! I dressed myself in rags and threw myself upon
your charity. Oh, don’t look so put out,
nephew
.” As Pauline was
speaking, Cam tried to focus on the warm protective conjure that was spreading
through her veins. The cord’s hold on her was almost gone, and she probably had
a minute more at most before she could free herself from Pauline. As she was
studying her surroundings, something drifted through the air in front of her
and landed on her hand. Looking down, Cam blinked at the sight of a single
silver hair resting on her palm.

What
luck
.
It had to be one of Pauline’s hairs, what with the way the woman was leaning
over her. Among their many items of conjure Caro and Grandma had brought
several poppets. The hair would hopefully be enough to anchor one of the
poppets to Pauline, and then they could curse her easily. Licking her lips, Cam
surreptitiously pinched the hair between her thumb and forefinger. She held it
tightly and waited for the right moment.

“Of
course, I had something a little more spectacular planned for this evening,” Pauline
admitted, “but then you eager little devils had to come over early and get
everything started before dusk.  But I’ve always said that the root of genius
is adaptability, and so here we are.”

“Why
did you try to drown me?” Cam asked quickly, hoping to stall the woman. She was
nearly free of the thing around her neck. Any minute now she would be able to
yank it off.

“Well,
that wasn’t part of the plan either,” Pauline admitted. “But you were coming
just a little too close to home, and like I said, I had something special
planned. But then Brent had to go and save your life… and I really don’t
understand what he sees in you.” She studied Cam critically. “I think you could
do better,
nephew
,” she said, wrinkling her nose.

“Don’t
call me that,” Brent said. But he wasn’t looking at Pauline. He was eying the
shotgun that leaned casually against the drawing room armoire.