Conjure (2 page)

Itchy unease creeps up my scalp.

Giving the yellow paper a cursory peek, she bats her eyes. “That sounds exciting.”

“Well, even if it’s real, it was written a long time ago,” Cooper says. “Any treasure is probably long gone by now.”

The chill spreads down my arms and spine, prickling my skin. “But it’s not just about a treasure.”

Ignoring me, Maggie strokes Jack’s shoulder. “There are many strange and unknown things in the Lowcountry. Who is to say a treasure couldn’t exist?”

Cooper shakes his head. “I don’t know. It seems like a story this good would have been passed down through my family.”

Jack persists. “But don’t you see? If you’ve never heard about it, maybe it was hidden.”

“Perhaps it is lying under this very ground.” Maggie flashes doe eyes at Jack. “You’ll never know if you don’t search.” She slips her hand back into his and entwines their fingers.

The tingling intensifies, and my heart races. What is wrong with them? “Um, am I the only one who noticed most of the letter is about a curse?” My chest is tight, making it hard to speak.

Jack scoffs. “Please, Emma, there’s no such thing. People were just superstitious back then.”

My stomach clenches. “But what about the bone thing? It says it’s gruesome.”

Jack looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Seriously? They probably had scurvy or something.”

Crossing my arms, I glare at him. “Uh, they were pirates. I think they’d know the difference between scurvy and whatever this was—what did he call it?” I hobble to my feet, and Cooper rushes to help me. Leaning on his arm, I look at the letter in Jack’s hand. “The Creep. That doesn’t sound like scurvy to me.” Another chill rushes through me.

“Give me a break. Why would anyone get cursed for stealing a flower?” Jack waves me off and turns to Cooper. “What do you think, Coop?”

Cooper scratches his temple with his free hand. “Honestly, I don’t know. This area is full of stories that sound crazy but are based on a little bit of truth. I don’t know what The Creep was, but Emma’s probably right.”

Maggie shrugs. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. But a treasure might be enough of a reward to try.”

“I say we do it.” Jack holds his free palm up for a high-five, but Maggie’s lids stretch in surprise, and she leaves him hanging. He chuckles and shrugs it off, drops his hand, and turns to Cooper. “Come on, what do you say? It’ll give us something to do besides sit on the boat. Plus it could be fun. We’ll start by poking around the Big House.”

Cooper takes the letter and reads it again. When his lips curl into a half-grin, I know he’s decided to give in to Jack and this ridiculous idea. “I guess there’s no harm in taking a look. But we should start at the ruins instead,” he says, referring to the remains of the original plantation house. “This letter was written before the first Big House burned down. In a hurricane, I think.”

The prickling eases, allowing me to think straight. “Burned in a hurricane? How the heck did that happen?”

Cooper shakes his head. “I don’t know. Maybe the wind knocked over some candles. Or maybe it was Captain Bloody Bill’s revenge. Bwuhaha.” He waves the ancient letter at me and laughs.

Maggie stiffens and glances over her shoulder. Shuddering, she releases Jack’s hand and rubs her arms like she’s freezing, even though despite all these clouds, it’s at least seventy-five degrees. “Forgive me. I must go.”

“Aw, really?” Jack asks, almost whining.

“Yes, my grandmother is calling me.” I quirk my head, listening for an old lady or a cell phone, but there’s only the sound of the endless, churning waves. Maggie backs up to leave. “Good-bye, Emma and Jack Guthrie. Good-bye, Cooper. Good luck finding your treasure.” She spins on her bare heels and saunters down the beach.

“Bye,” Jack calls, unable to peel his eyes off her. “See you…soon.” Only it comes out more like a hopeful question than a fact.

When she’s out of earshot, I clear my throat. “Wow, she was…different.”

Jack sighs, still transfixed. “She can be anything she wants to be. She’s hot.” He shakes his head to clear the Maggie-induced fog, then narrows his gaze at me. “What about you, Em? You in?”

I know what he’s really asking: will I spend the summer with him and Cooper, searching for the dumb treasure, or by myself, sketching at the nearby wildlife preserve?

Put that way, I don’t have a choice. Jack’s sucked Cooper in to this scheme, and I can’t be without Cooper. I sigh, shaking my head in defeat. “Fine. But just remember, I told you so.”

Chapter Two

Cooper plants his shovel in the rich soil and wipes the trickling sweat from his grimy brow. “Jack, you know I love you, bro, but this is so not going to work.” He’s surrounded by a bunch of holes and unearthed clumps of vegetation.

It’s been a long three days. The searing South Carolina sun is back, wearing us down. And so is Jack. He’s turned into an overlord, bossing us around, pointing at the ground, and ordering us to dig wherever his new, Internet-ordered metal detector tells us to. So far we’ve found a few iron nails, some spare change, and a crappy old charm bracelet. This is a colossal waste of time. And it doesn’t help that my twin sense is getting super weird vibes from Jack. Part of me wants to confront him about it, but he is being such a jerk lately that I don’t even want to bother.

“We can’t quit now. I’m telling you it’s here. I can feel it.” Jack winces and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Dang, this heat’s making my headache worse.”

I sigh. “Are you kidding me? Look around.” I jab my muddied hand at the mounds that litter the clearing surrounding the ruins. “There’s nothing here.” I tug my clingy T-shirt off my soaked chest and fan my scorching face. “And if your head hurts so bad, we should quit.”

A warm breeze blows off St. Helena Island Sound. Its cool water beckons just a couple hundred feet away at the bottom of the bluff. We should be on the beach or floating in a boat, our legs dangling in juicy, delicious wetness. Anything besides being stuck here in pothole hell.

“It’s
here
.” Jack strides toward me, his shoulders looming since I’m still knee-deep in my own pit. He grinds his teeth. His normally cool blue eyes have darkened like slick little pools of oil. “You just haven’t dug deep enough.” He plants his hands on his hips and growls. Like, literally. His nostrils flare, and for a second, I think he might hit me. But that would be insane and totally unlike my brother.

Cooper tosses his shovel, jumps out of his hole, and rushes to Jack’s side. Grabbing his arm, Cooper drags Jack back a few steps away from me. “Take it easy, bro. Emma’s only trying to help.”

Jack spins around and glares at Cooper. His hands ball into tight fists, and his body quakes.

I gape, wondering what the heck he’s thinking. Last summer, they were both lean, lanky, and the same height, but over the school year, Cooper changed. He’s taller, bigger, and way more muscular. He could flatten Jack without trying.

Cooper broadens his chest. “I don’t think you want to go there, bro.” His voice is deep and firm.

Jack shudders and blinks a couple times. The hard edge to his face softens. “Yeah.” He nods and rubs his forehead. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.” He looks around, bewildered. “I’m sorry, dude.”

My pulse charges. I don’t know what’s gotten into my brother, and I don’t care if Cooper wants to stay. I’m sick of Jack’s epic weirdness. Not to mention the mosquito bites, sweating, stinking, and scraping dirt from my nails. I’m done.

Thrusting my shovel to the side, I stomp out of my hole. “Enjoy your obsession. I’ve got better things to do.” Wiping my hands on my crusty shorts, I shake out my flip-flops. Considering I’m caked with crud, it’s a total waste of effort. The stupid bandage on my foot has come loose—again. I just wish it didn’t hurt to wear sneakers.

Pushing past them, I scoop up my messenger bag laden with colored pencils and the other art supplies I’ve neglected over the past three sticky and pathetically unproductive days. Shuffling around the other holes and piles of unearthed fill, I head toward our golf cart and sweet freedom. Now that we’re done playing Indiana Jones, I can get back to sketching. After I shower.

“No! Emma, you can’t go.” Jack breaks free of Cooper’s grasp and charges after me, his voice panicked.

I stop short and whirl around to face him.

Jaw tight, he rubs his temples. “Look, I’m sorry.” His words are soft and full of pleading. “I know ever since we found that bottle, I’ve been a little—”

“Psychotic?”

“Driven.” An embarrassed smile inches across his lips. “And I haven’t exactly been the easiest person to get along with, but I know we’re close. Trust me, I can feel it. Please stay and help?”

Jack’s ever-changing moods are giving
me
a headache now. I sigh. “Look, it’s too hot to dig anymore today, anyway. You need a break, some water, and definitely something to eat. Sub sandwich sound good?”

He shakes his head. “The only thing I need is the treasure.”

My ears prick.
Need
it? Before the other day, he’d never even heard about it. And since when has he ever passed up a meal?

I peer over Jack’s shoulder at Cooper, who looks as confused as I feel. Reading my silent call for backup, he steps over to Jack and slaps his shoulder. “We can search again tomorrow morning when the sun isn’t so high. But for now, let’s get out of here, grab some lunch, and go for a sail. We haven’t been out on the boat this summer, and I’m itching to get on the water.”

I nod and grab Jack’s hand, guiding him away from these godforsaken holes. “Yeah, that’s a great idea. We can sail over to Hunting Island, and I can sketch the lighthouse.”

Jack takes one last look at the clearing. “Okay. That sounds good.”

I sigh with relief.

A figure in a bright yellow dress and straw hat makes her way up the bluff toward the ruins. My stomach drops. It’s the girl from the other day. I want to get out of here before Jack sees her.

Cooper spots her, too, and points in her direction. “Hey, Jack, look! It’s…” He turns to me. “What is her name?”

“Maggie,” I answer, thrilled she didn’t make an indelible impression on him.

I can’t say the same for Jack, though. He rubs his hands together. “Oh, yeah. I wonder where she’s been.” Elated for the first time in days, he sprints toward her.

Stunned by yet another head-spinning change in Jack’s mood, Cooper and I watch him plow down the bluff to greet Maggie halfway. They exchange a few words. He points to us. She slips her arm through his, and they climb the sandy hill together.

“She is pretty, isn’t she?” Cooper remarks under his breath. His words crush my heart. She and I might be around the same height and have similar builds, but that’s where the comparisons end. If she’s his type, there’s no way I can compete. Biting my tongue to distract from the ache welling in my chest, I try not to whimper like a puppy caught underfoot.

I glance down at my filthy flip-flops and crusty bandage. “Yeah, gorgeous.”

When they get to the top of the bluff, Jack’s beaming. “Maggie was walking on the beach when she heard our voices and decided to come see us.”

I don’t know if it’s the heat, my hunger, or the fact that her unexpected arrival has delayed our departure, but queasiness rushes over me. I don’t want to be here anymore. My skin flares as a strange impulse takes hold. I want to race away from them all, escape down the bluff, and throw myself into the cool Sound. But to avoid looking like a crazy person, I resist.

Maggie unhooks her arm from his and waves. “Hello, Emma Guthrie,” she says in that odd accent. “Hello, Cooper Beaumont.” Her flowery perfume hangs in the air.

“Hi.” I nod, avoiding her ebony eyes, which are so deep and dark, they look like they go on forever.

Cooper nods. “Hey, how are you, Maggie?”

“She’s fine,” Jack answers for her and casually takes her hand in his, as if he’s done it a thousand times before, which is totally weird, since he was never touchy-feely with his ex-girlfriend, Katie. What is with these two? They’ve only known each other for a total of maybe ten minutes—since when did they start dating?

Jack points to the clearing. “We’ve been searching for the treasure.”

Maggie quirks her brow. “But you haven’t had much luck.”

Thank you, Ms. Obvious. Frustration swells, and my hands itch. I don’t need her commentary. I need to leave.

“We haven’t found it because it isn’t here,” I cross my arms and concentrate hard, battling the antsy feeling once again. “Which is why we were just leaving.” I incline my head toward Cooper and Jack to get us moving again.

Maggie tightens her grip on Jack, holding him in place, and tilts her gorgeous head. “Why haven’t you dug within the ruins?” She leads Jack to the edge of the excavation and points to what’s left of the original Big House. Made of ancient tabby concrete, an unstable mixture of oyster shells and sand that crumbles to the touch, the foundation’s footprint is still intact, but the walls have been whittled down by wind and rain. It’s hard to imagine what the house looked like back in the day. Based on what’s left, though, it must have been a palace.

I groan. The last thing I need is her getting Jack worked up again. We’ll never get out of here.

Cooper grunts. “We promised my dad we wouldn’t go near them. He doesn’t want us wrecking the remains.”

“But it would be easier to hide a treasure inside a house than in the yard, no?” Maggie smiles and bats her lashes.

As much as I hate to admit it, she does have a point.

Jack smiles. “You’re a genius, Maggie!” He slips from her grip, grabs the metal detector, and launches himself over a low tabby wall.

Cooper follows. “What are you doing? You promised not to touch the concrete!”

“Relax, I’m only scanning the ground.” Jack crouches to stare at the base of the foundation, then stands up and inches the detector along until he’s made it all the way around the base. “Dang,” he mutters, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing the bridge of his nose. A moment later, he shakes his head and scans the dirt again. He spins and looks at the center of the ruins, then cocks his head and moves across the vegetation. “Hey, Coop, come here. I got a strong reading. And the dirt in this section seems different than the rest.”

“What are you talking about?” Cooper jumps inside and kneels beside Jack. Finally, he lifts his head and calls, “Hey, Emma, could you hand me a shovel?”

What? Now Cooper, too? I thought he was on my side. Against my better judgment, I hand him the nearest shovel.

Maggie adjusts the brim on her hat. “I must be on my way, friends.”

Jack pops his head up from behind the fragile concrete. “So soon? You just got here.” His eyes turn down, crestfallen. “Can’t you stay awhile? Maybe even help?”

She shakes her head. “I am sorry. My grandmother is waiting for me. I will see you tomorrow morning, Jack Guthrie. Good luck.” She turns and heads down the bluff.

Biting back tears, I plop down on the golf cart’s rear seat and sink my head in my hands. It’s going to be a long day.

…

Six hours later, after two food and water runs, Cooper and Jack have managed to dig out a six-by-eight-foot hole in the ground. It’s an old root cellar where people stored food to keep it cool. The two of them are standing waist-deep, scraping out earth and tossing it over their shoulders in a huge pile next to the hole. I sift through the rich, loamy soil with my bare hands, just in case they missed anything. But there’s nothing.

Jack’s shovel clangs against something solid.

“Whoa, what was that?” I crane my neck around the dirt pile.

Jack bends over to dust the ground with his hands. “I’m not sure.”

Cooper leans in. “It’s tabby.” His jaw drops in amazement.

I stand and step to the opening. “Like a hunk of it?”

Cooper shakes his head. “No, it’s smooth and more yellow than the ruins.”

Jack‘s eyes gleam. “I told you we’d find something. I could feel it.” He feverishly scrapes at the dirt like a dog worrying for a bone.

Cooper helps, suddenly as driven as Jack, and soon they’ve uncovered a flat, rectangular piece of concrete about two feet long and a foot-and-a-half wide. A few more shovelfuls reveals it’s not just a slab, it’s the top of some sort of tabby box wedged into the corner of the root cellar. They dig and scrape until they uncover the whole thing.

Cooper slaps Jack’s back. “I’ve got to hand it to you, bro. You were right.”

The hair rises on the back of my neck. “Why would someone put a tabby box in a root cellar?”

Jack shrugs. “Maybe it was a kind of safe.” He hooks his fingers around the top and strains to lift the lid. “Let’s see what’s inside this baby.” He grunts, unable to yank it loose. “Help me, Coop. This is really stuck.”

Cooper bends over and pulls, flexing his sculpted arms, but the top refuses to budge.

My pulse quickens. But it’s not from excitement. That weird anxious feeling has crept back again.

Jack stands, panting and gnawing his bottom lip, glaring at the uncooperative lid. “Crap!” He kicks the top, his fists clenched.

“Maybe we can try leverage.” Cooper shoves the tip of his shovel into the crease below the front corner of the lid. He pushes down, leaning into the handle with his chest. His jaw clenches as the top creaks, but the shovel’s blade bends, and he tumbles to the ground. Heaving for air, he says, “Sorry, Jack. It’s not coming off.”

“It has to.” Jack jumps out of the hole, snatches my shovel off the ground, and hands it to Cooper. Then he jumps back into the pit, grabs his own shovel, and jams it into the other corner of the box. “Come on, move over a little. If we push together, I’m sure we can lift it.”

Acid swirls in my stomach. Something doesn’t fit. Why would something that’s been buried four feet in the ground for three hundred years need to be sealed? If this was a root cellar, people would want to get to their stuff, not lock it up.

Cooper wedges the shovel’s blade into the crease under the tabby slab.

The words from Bloody Bill’s letter flash across my mind. He said the curse was abominable, heinous, and gruesome. My heart gallops. This is a mistake. We shouldn’t open the box.

Jack and Cooper bear down on the handles, their faces flushed with effort.

A wave of nausea rolls over me, leaving my skin clammy and coating my mouth with hot saliva. I have to stop them before it’s too late. “Stop!” I cry, my voice echoing across the clearing.

Jack and Cooper spin around. Cooper drops the shovel and lurches toward me, deep creases etched into his brow. “What’s wrong?”

I’m breathing hard, in through my nose and out my mouth, hoping I don’t throw up in front of him. Or into the hole next to him. I shut my eyes, swallow hard, and will the nausea away.