Free Allure (The Hoodoo Apprentice #2) (Entangled Teen) by Lea Nolan Page A

biohazard of epic proportions. Even after we got rid of it, the stench lingered in our apartment for almost a week. This smell, the one coming from the residue on Cooper’s window, reminds me of the funk that hovered in our kitchen those last few days.
    Cooper scoops his head to sniff, then looks up at me, quirking his brow. “It’s a little nasty, but it’s not that bad.”
    “Seriously?” I cough, my throat burning. “It’s putrid.”
    “I guess I must be stuffed up or something.” Reaching over, he stretches his fingers toward the slime.
    A jolt of pain shoots down my arm, zapping my hand. I don’t know what it means except Cooper isn’t supposed to touch that stuff.
    “Don’t!” I yank his wrist away.
    But it’s too late. The gel coats his middle and index fingers. My heart jumps into overdrive, galloping in my chest.
    “What’s the matter?” His eyes stretch as wide as half-dollars.
    The skin on my hand radiates heat. “You can’t touch it.”
    “Why?” He laughs, tapping his tacky fingers against his thumb. The glycerin-like substance is wet and stretchy. “It’s sap or something. Gross, but nothing dangerous. Really. See?” He pushes his fingers toward my face. The scent stings my eyes.
    Tugging my T-shirt over my nose, I take a giant step back and trip onto Cooper’s bed. “Get it away from me! I mean it.” My voice is laden with desperation.
    Jack sweeps open the door to Cooper’s bedroom, a rolled paper bag in his hand. “Do you know your stepmonster’s going crazy again downstairs?” When he notices me cringing on the bed, he laughs. “What’s going on in here?” He’s way too amused by my obvious discomfort.
    “Emma’s afraid of the slime on my window. Seems your sister has inherited your dad’s neat-freak gene.” He walks to his hamper, flips open the lid, and wipes his hand on a towel at the top of the pile. “As for Missy, there’s a reason this was closed.” Hooking his toe around the edge of the door, he pushes it shut again.
    My mind is still stuck on the neat-freak quip. Is he serious? Hasn’t he noticed the charcoal pastels caked under my fingernails, or the oil paint that occasionally frosts my hair? I’m nothing like my disinfectant-obsessed father. Still hypersensitive about being a guest in the caretaker’s cottage, Dad takes spotless to a whole new level.
    I right myself on the mattress. “It’s not that. I just don’t want that nasty stuff on me. I don’t know how you can stand the stink.”
    Jack sniffs the air. “What stink?”
    “You too?” I inhale through my cotton shirt, dragging the fresh scent of fabric softener up my nose. It’s almost enough to eradicate the stench now wafting from the still-open clothes hamper.
    Setting the bag on Cooper’s desk, he steps toward the pane, then leans over and sniffs. “Marginally foul.” Shrugging, he shoots a conspiratorial glance at Cooper. “It’s way worse than the neat-freak gene. It’s an emo attack.” He winks at me, knowing his favorite insult is bound to trip my nerves.
    Mission accomplished.
    My lids narrow. “Don’t be an idiot.” I get up and slam the hamper shut.
    Tilting his head, he smirks. “Look, I’m not the one spazzing over a few slug trails. Which, by the way you’ve seen a million times all over this plantation.” He tilts the frame upward, clicking the pane in place, then shuts the window and relocks the latch.
    Slug trails? My pulse drops to a trot. Okay, maybe I overreacted. A little. I didn’t even consider the gooey little shell-less snails could have left behind that glistening, mucous-y film. Though I don’t ever remember seeing one suction itself to the second level of the Big House, much less three. But even if I did go a bit overboard, that goop really does reek.
    “It’s still vile.” I shudder, keeping my breath shallow to avoid the dissipating but still lingering odor.
    “I just hope Coop and I didn’t miss out on sailing for an equally nondisaster