give anything to have her.”
“What, exactly, did you give?” Mahjani pressed.
Finally, Mrs. Jacquard met Mahjani’s gaze. “We were supposed to introduce Serafina to our rich friends,” she said. “She was well known in the Caribbean. She wanted to be richer, famous, I guess.”
Mahjani nodded in understanding.
“When we didn’t, she cursed Rory.” The look of remembered horror was clear on Mrs. Jacquard’s face as she admitted this in a tortured whisper.
“Do you remember exactly how the curse went?” Mahjani prompted.
Mrs. Jacquard shook her head. “I only know that Rory would have a happy childhood, but she would never become a woman without dying.”
Mahjani’s breath hitched. “I see.”
The door slammed, and Mr. Jacquard stalked into the room. “What the hell’s going on here?”
Jacob moved to intercept him. “Mr. Jacquard—”
To his shock, the older man shoved him. “Who the hell is this?” He pointed at Mahjani.
Jacob frowned. “This is Mahjani Rafallo. She’s an expert in voodoo and—”
Before he could finish his sentence, Mr. Jacquard surprised him with a quick punch, rocking his head back. Jacob’s hands bunched into fists as the pain in his jaw intensified, but he stopped himself before he counterattacked.
“Get her out of this house.”
Mahjani stood gracefully. “It’s all right, Jacob,” she said, in her quiet voice. “I think I’ve learned all I need to.”
Now Mr. Jacquard stepped closer to Mahjani, his face menacing. “If you tell anyone about my daughter, or anything my wife might have told you, I will make sure that your life is ruined. Do you understand?”
Jacob reached for the man, grabbing him away from Mahjani. “You’ll leave her alone,” Jacob threatened.
Mahjani sighed. “I was just leaving, sir,” she said instead, putting a hand on Jacob’s arm. “Jacob, if you could walk me to the car?”
Jacob and Mr. Jacquard’s eyes locked, glaring, challenging. Finally, Jacob stepped away, escorting Mahjani to the foyer, helping her with her coat. They took a step out into the crisp winter air.
“I’m sorry,” Jacob said. “I had no idea they’d react like this.”
“It’s all right,” Mahjani said, unperturbed. “He feels responsible for what happened to Rory. In a way, he’s right to. But I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy. He gets to be firsthand witness to his daughter’s pain and imprisonment every day.”
Put that way, Jacob felt a little more empathy for the sour man.
“I need to research this a little further,” Mahjani added, opening the door to the town car. “Call me at the hotel later. I will have a ritual planned out. And, now that I’ve met her, I think I will be able to meet you both in this dreamworld—if you’ll allow it.”
He nodded. “Anything you need.”
With that, she closed the door. The car drove away.
When he reentered the house, Rory’s parents were waiting for him. Mrs. Jacquard looked miserable. Mr. Jacquard simply looked furious.
“I thought you were a reputable doctor,” Mr. Jacquard accused. “What were you thinking, bringing that…that charlatan here? To see Rory? I should fire you right now!”
Jacob felt a stab of panic, but kept his face set. “I’m pursuing angles that other doctors haven’t,” he pointed out.
“You’re making a mockery of her illness,” Mr. Jacquard said sharply. “You’re—”
“Do you want Rory to wake up or not?”
The sentence that Mahjani had thrown at him worked equally well on Mr. Jacquard, momentarily stunning him. Finally, he chuffed loudly.
“This isn’t a solution, this is a fraud,” he said, although his voice was far less certain. “If I find out she’s been in this house again, I’ll not only have you fired and kicked out, I’ll have your license. Don’t fuck with me.”
Jacob nodded, then watched as the older man stomped off to his study. When it was quiet, he turned to Mrs. Jacquard.
“Are you all right?”
She nodded, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “He won’t forgive me,” she said. “He’ll never forgive me.”
Jacob didn’t say anything. He waited.
“Is there anything else you need to know from me, Doctor White?”
He took a deep breath. “Did you talk to Serafina?” he asked quietly. “Did…did you try to get her to reverse the spell?”
“Of course.” Now the tears spilled over, and she dabbed at them with a linen handkerchief. “Don’t you think I would? When Rory fell, I was ready to sign over my entire bank account. I was ready to throw her a promotional party at the Four Seasons. But there was no use.”
“She wouldn’t negotiate?”
Mrs. Jacquard’s laugh was watery. “You misunderstand me,” she said.
Jacob’s brow furrowed.
“Serafina was dead when I returned to the island.”
Rory heard Jacob’s