Dirty Hands & A Heavy Egg

We met in the cemetery. I needed a quiet place to think and scribble. Found a bench a little ways from the main walkway. No one would bother me. No one would question me. I always brought something to leave behind. Sometimes new coins, sometimes pieces of bread or “accidental” spills of water. Never a mess.

After a few weeks, he was seen watching me come and go. Then one day, he was there at the bench before me. Just sitting there. I did ask if I may accompany him before sitting down. He just nodded. He seemed nervous. Like there was something he was supposed to do, but didn’t want to follow through.

After a few minutes, I blatantly asked him, “So, your boy told you to rob me, eh?” He was so surprised he tried to jump to his feet. Instead, all he could manage was falling off the bench. “No! NO! Just… um… um…”

I looked down at him, plainly. “So. Are you going to try and rob me? Just what are you supposed to take as a trophy?” I didn’t feel in danger. If anything the cemetery’s quiet was blanketed over me. I felt completely safe. “Get up off the ground, boy. Sit back on the bench. Either you’re a fool, or you’re not. But either way, have respect for what’s around you.”

Quietly, he did sit back on the bench next to me. He looked around nervously. “He thinks you’re some kind of mambo, and I’m supposed to take your beads, or something of power.” He looks over my exposed wrists. “But I don’t see no beads.”

“That’s because I’m not a mambo. I’m not a priestess, or an ordained woman of any faith. I’m just me. Even if you ran off with my purse, there’s about forty dollars and a bunch of useless trinkets. Nothing you’ll be able to show for it, and instead, you’ll piss off the Dead and get the popo’s involved.” His head sunk. “You trying to get into the gang?”

He nodded.

“If I may ask, why?” He looked up at me, surprised that I was still sitting there.

“Because that’s what you do! You run with your boys, and you kick everyone else’s ass!”

“Why?”

“What the fuck you asking for?”

“Because, I think your boy knew you couldn’t follow through. He doesn’t want you in his gang, and he’s giving you a way out that would save face. Think about it. Why would he send a rookie to knock over a mambo? That he knows what a mambo is, tells me he set you up. Either you would get nothing and fail. Or you piss off a mambo and get witchfucked. Either way, you lose.”

He stands up, with clenched fists and visibly angry. “HE WOULDN’T DO THAT TO ME!”

“Lower your voice, and mind where you are at. Why wouldn’t he do that to you?” Still, I had no fear.

He paced back and forth a bit, trying to walk off his sudden rage. Finally he stops and sits back down. Pulling his hood over his face, hiding it from me, he answers quietly, “He’s my brother. He wouldn’t set me up like that.”

Suddenly, it becomes clear. “You’re right. He wouldn’t set you up to get hurt. He would set you up to fail. He doesn’t want you in his gang, because he knows what you’ll have to do later on. Your brother’s hands are dirty and will never be clean. He’s trying to keep you from the same taint.”

“Well, fuck him. I’m old enough to decide my life. And if I want to run the streets, I will. Not like I’m going to do anything else, anyway.” I noted his shoulders were tensing up. He was working himself up to do something he didn’t want to do.

I take the forty dollars out of my purse and hand it to him. He shrinks back like I was offering a scorpion. “Take it. You have to have something to take back to him. I have no trinkets that would be of worth to you or him. But you want to run like a dog, then play fetch. Take it, and take it back to him. If he asks, tell him I was intimidated and just handed it over.”

He stared at the money. I could see the struggle in his face. He snatched it, and ran out the cemetery.

I found myself out of time, and left the cemetery for the day.

A few days later, I returned, as was my custom, to sit at my usual bench and be inspired by the quiet. I was not surprised to see the boy from earlier there. I was surprised to see him sitting with another man. As I passed them, I noted the similarity in face. Before I could ask if I may have the untaken place, the older offered it to me.

“Would you sit here with us? I promise, no harm will come today.” He gestured to the empty spot.

The younger man was in the same grey hoodie I saw him in a few days ago. His older brother was in a black jacket with some design in red stitching across the back and sleeves. They were sitting so the younger was at the far end of the bench, and the older sat next to me.

“Forgive our intrusion into your quiet time, but my brother made a mistake a few days ago.” He held out an envelope. “This money, is yours, not his.”

I looked at the envelope, not in suspicion, but in humor. “If I take it, what happens to him?”

The elder brother looked at me, also in humor. “If you take it, or if you don’t take it, I’m going to beat his ass. I didn’t think he’s actually try to follow through. He wasn’t supposed to. But then again, he told me what you had said to him. You saw right through it.”

I took the envelope, and noted it felt thicker than the few bills I had given over. He noted my alert and volunteered, “I know you gave my brother forty dollars. There is more than the forty you gave him in the envelope. It’s a free gift, from me. I want no bad blood between us.”

“You still think I’m a mambo.”

“I think you’re not a person to be mean to.”

I tucked the unopened envelope into my purse. “I appreciate the sentiment. So, after you finish beating his ass, what becomes of him?”

The man looked at his younger brother, who had pulled his hood over his face again. “What he needs to do,” addressing me, but continuing to face him, “is get his ass in gear and graduate high school. He has a scholarship waiting for him, and all he needs is a B average to get it. He needs to not follow me. My life is the street, and I know I won’t live as long as I should have. He can get the fuck out of here, and have a better life.” His brother just continued hanging his head low. The elder quit the pretense of talking to me and addressed him directly. “You think I have it good, you have no idea. I try to tell you, but you keep refusing to see. Yea, I set your ass up. I knew she’s bitchslap you like the little girl you are. I just didn’t think she’d do it with words. I wanted to shame your ass into staying off the streets. My life will kill you. You’ll be like the walking dead. The only difference between you and the dead here, is that they’re off their feet and you’re still moving. Fuck, man. I can’t force you to stay out of it. And I can’t protect you anymore.”

He remembers I’m sitting beside him. He stands up and bows slightly before me. “He shouldn’t be anymore trouble to you. If he is, go ahead and stomp his ass. You won’t have any problem from my krew, either. We’ve been watching you for a long while. No trouble from us, Mambo. None at all.”

Before I can challenge the title, he turns and leaves. His brother remained on the bench.

“Do you need a tutor?”

“Huh?” He finally looks up.

“Do you need a tutor? To help you get that B average?”

“No, Ma’am. I can do it. I just… ”

“You just don’t see the sense of it. Why work hard, when your brother already has it all, right?” He nods. “You know if your brother lives another 5 years, it will be a miracle? Yea, you’ll have a lot less starting off, but you’ll have 40 years if you take care of yourself.” He hides his face in the hood again. “Well, I can’t tell you what to do. I can only ask that you don’t bring shit to me. You want to be adult, be adult, and own your shit.”

“Can… can I sit here with you a while longer? My brother… he really is going to beat me up. It’s part of the gang initiation.”

“Do you want into that gang now?” He holds still, then shakes his head in the negative. “If I claim you as mine, are you going to bite me in the ass later for it?” He looks up at me, his tears now plainly visible.

“Claim me… Huh?”

“Your brother is sure I’m a Mambo. If I claim you as mine, he can’t make you part of his gang. But, that means you answer to me, and that whatever I ask of you, you have to do it.” I take a deep breath, wondering what I’ve gotten myself into this time. “Your actions have put you into a corner. Either way, by the end of the day, someone is going to own you. You have one last free will choice remaining. Either your brother owns your ass. Or me. Pick one. Wait too long, and the choice will be made for you.”

Indeed, down the way, I see his brother coming to claim him. The teenager looks down and sees him. Turns quickly back to me. “And what are you going to ask of me?”

“Maybe, I’ll just ask you to stay in school. Maybe I’ll have you digging up graves. Does it matter? You have to choose.” The teen’s eyes grew big in fright as I watched him consider how much of a devil I was.

“Boy. The fuck you still here? Come on. You’re going to get what you wanted after all, let’s go.” He reached for the younger man’s sleeve, but the teen drew back.

“I… I can’t go with you.”

“Why the hell not! It’s what you wanted! Let’s go! Leave the woman alone!”

The teen lowered his head in fear and started to mumble something. Knowing he had made his decision, I took ownership of the situation. “Lift your head, boy. And speak clearly. If I wanted a dog to sniff my heels, I’ll have you fetch one.”

The elder brother stared at me in surprise. His shock grew when the teen slowly obeyed me. “I said, I can’t go with you. Because the Mambo owns me now.” Now it was the elder brother’s turn to step back in fear.

“The fuck? What is he talking about?”

“Simple. Someone is going to own his ass by the end of the day. It would be you, unless someone challenged you for him. I’m challenging. Let him serve me. If he fails, I’ll toss him to the street and all the dogs that roam it.” Inside I was quaking with fear myself. I’m taking on a responsibility that is not mine to grasp. This could end badly in so many different ways.

The elder brother was also considering all the ramifications of this. Then his face brightened as he realized what I was doing. The tell quickly passed as he put on the most severe look he could muster. “Nig, I hope you know what you’re asking. You piss her off, Death himself gonna come for you.”

“What’s your name, by the way. Nevermind, I don’t need to know. Until I release you, your name is ‘James’.” James looked up at me annoyed at the moniker. He started to protest that he’d rather have another name, until he caught my eye and the stare I was giving him.

He immediately looked down and muttered, “My name is James. Yes, Ma’am.”.

“Lift your head, James.” He did.

“James, go home with your brother. You are not allowed to join any gangs. And I want to see your report card next week when you meet me here in the cemetery.”

“My report card!”

“Don’t make me ask for it again.”

He stared at me, at first in defiance. But as my stare held his steady, he lowered his eyes. “Yes, Ma’am.”

He started to turn away, as his brother barely restrained from laughing. “James.” He stopped. “You leave, when I dismiss you. I haven’t.” He turned to full face me again. “You will cease this muttering and speak clearly. But take care, what you speak, James. There are many winds that carry whispers. And while I am no Mambo, you really don’t want to speak against me.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Go home with your brother. Stay out of trouble. I’ll see you, and your report card, next week. Good night.” I tilted my head slightly at the end. His brother picked up on the cue at once.

“Good night. Come on boy, before you wind up serving something worse!” The two left the cemetery. After I finished convincing my stomach that heaving in a cemetery would not be good manners, I left as well.

Weeks pass. James realizes I was serious about owning him, as I send him on busywork errands. His grades were slipping, but after some impromptu tutoring and awakening a sense of pride in him, he was able to achieve a B average. He had set his sights on obtaining an A average.

James’s older brother was named “Anthony” at birth, but his street name is Marcus. Sadly, I find very few of Marcus’ associates understand the importance of the nickname. Marcus had promised me, I would have no trouble with his krew, and he kept his word. I was in a local corner store, and members of his krew came in. They acted strange, looking around. I heard the clerk mutter he was about to be robbed. One man came up to the counter with his hand in his pocket, then saw me. “Oh. You’re that lady. Uh. Uh.” He yells at the others. “Come on, guys, I forgot something and we gotta go get it.”

“What the fuck did you forget? Come on, let’s get… oh.” Another krew member came down the aisle and almost ran into me. I was not amused, and let my face display my irritation. “Hi, Lady.” I just grunted in response. “We, um, um. We’ll tell Marcus you said ‘Hello’”.

“Yea, you do that. Are you going to fuck up my day?”

“No, Ma’am! We’re, uh… we need to go now.” The krew quickly left the store, a few of them crossing themselves as they left.

The clerk watched them leave, surprised. “Who the hell are you to make them so afraid?”

I smile at the clerk. “Indeed.” His face crumpled at my non-answer. I paid for my goods and left.

One spring day, I come to the cemetery with my regular offerings, and a notebook to write down whatever inspiration that hits. James is usually there waiting for me. His grades are now an A average, and he is speaking of plans that extend into college. Today, James is not present. Instead, I see Marcus and an older woman at the bench. As I approach, Marcus sees me and stands up.

“Ms. Kerian, good morning.” I nod. “This is my mother, Clara.” I greet Clara warmly, but her face is as solid as granite. “James is sick. Very sick.”

Clara remained seated at my approach. At the mention of the name I gave James, she snaps at me, “His name is not James. I should know! I birthed him! His name is Bret! Who the hell are you to rename him! That’s why he’s sick, you’re stealing his life away!”

I did not try to interrupt Clara. I let her go on until she had run out of initial steam. “Anthony, how long has Bret been ill?” At hearing her son’s birth names, Clara softened slightly.

“Two days ago, Ma’am. One day, he was fine. By the end of the day, he was doubled over and puking everywhere.”

“What has the doctor said?”

“What the fuck makes you think we can afford Urgent Care?” Clara glared at me. “The ER turned him away, said he wasn’t sick enough. He has a fever so high, his brain is boiling! All he can say is how he has to come to the cemetery, to meet his Mambo mistress! What the hell are you doing to my son!”

I turned to Marcus. He only nodded.

“Ms. Clara. I’m not a Mambo, no matter what others may fear. When it comes to illness, I’ll reach for modern medicine first. I will admit Bret owes me.” She jumped to her feet in challenge. “And that debt will be paid when he graduates with a B average or better.” Her challenge fled from her face.

“Anthony’s… friends… tell me you have a claim on Bret’s soul!”. Marcus hid his face.

“Ma’am, Anthony’s friends are the reason I wrangled Bret into the debt in the first place. To keep Bret from falling into the wrong crowd. Now, I must ask, why do you think I have a hand in Bret’s illness?”

Clara’s face was full of distress. “Look where we are. In a cemetery! Normal people don’t meet here! He said… he said it was no use praying for him, because his Mambo had him.”

I covered my face with my hand, not sure to keep from laughing or crying. “Ms. Clara, are you Christian?”

“I am.”

“Did you give up praying for him?”

“NO!”

“Then, why are you confronting me about this? What has you convinced I can succeed in a house where your god rules?”

Her face was hard in anger against me. She turned to Marcus. “TELL HER!” She stormed away a few steps and began praying softly but audibly.

“Mom doesn’t know the whole story. I just told her enough to convince her to get you involved.” He kept his voice low, and placed himself between me and his mother. He opened his jacket and took out a small bundle he had been hiding. “It’s been taken apart, so I don’t know how much I’ve helped or hurt my brother. He found this on our doorstep the morning he got sick. He brought it inside and took it apart. I heard him cursing at something, and when I caught up with him, a lot of it had been flushed down the toilet.” The hand size bundle was wrapped in black cloth and tied with a strange fuzzy rope. Marcus carefully started to open it. Bent nails, stinky plant leaves, and a scent of cayenne pepper came from it.

I stopped him from opening it completely. I had seen enough. He wrapped the bundle back together and pulled at the fuzzy cord. The strain was too much and a piece snapped off. “Let me see that piece, Marcus.” He handed it over. I held it up to light. What I thought was a fuzzy wool cord, was homemade rope made from human hair. Hair, that matched the color of Marcus’ carefully maintained afro.

“Let me guess, the cloth has your krew’s symbol on it.” He nodded. “This wasn’t a working against James, it was a working against you. But James found it first. He shouldn’t have opened it. Dammit.”

“I guess other krews think you’re helping me. I’m sorry. What can I do for my brother?”

“For one, you need to get rid of this. Do not bring back into your mother’s house, no matter what. Find flowing water, and throw it in. Fuck. I need to think.”

As Marcus tucked the bundle back in his jacket, Clara returned to me.

“Ms. Clara, Marcus explained. I can help, but it means me coming into your house and doing some very Not Christian things. If you decline, I will not push it, but it means James, er, Bret has to be removed from your house. But I would like to do this, under your roof. Because a mother’s love is quite powerful, and your prayers will help.”

Clara glared at me with renewed anger and hatred. “No. You’ll release my son from whatever evil you’ve done to him.”

“I’ve done no evil to him. I have nothing to undo. In fact, it may be my claim over him is what’s keeping him from succumbing to the curse entirely.”

“Then there is nothing for you to do except never talk to my son again!” She pushed past me in a brisk walk. But Marcus did not move. “Anthony! Let’s go!” He looked down, sighed, and placed his hand over the concealed bundle. “Anthony!”

“No, Mom. Ms. Kerian can help.”

“She’ll damn him to Hell, if she hasn’t already done so!”

“Mom, are you sure you want to risk that? Didn’t you tell me that as long as there is life, there is hope? She heals him. He can reject her himself. You keep her away. He dies. Then what? Besides, she’s the reason he’s not in my krew. You want to throw that away, too?”

Clara paused. Then broke into sobs. I walked up to her, touching her gently on the arm. She looked up at me. “I won’t be invoking any gods in your house. There will be no debts incurred. Please, let me help. As Bret’s debt-holder, I do have a responsibility here. I must help him, to the best of my ability because of that.”

She wrestled her emotions back under control. “What do you need from me?”

I thought quickly, and let the first things to mind spill out. “A chicken egg. The fresher the better, but I’ll take what’s in the fridge if nothing else. A jug of white vinegar. There will be a mess, so spare sheets and towels you don’t mind getting dirty. Two buckets or large pots. There will be vomit, so a place to do this with room for three people. And salt. It’s okay if you only have iodized, but plain salt is better.”

I watched at Clara mentally checked if she had these things. When I saw she had caught up with me. “I need one person to help manhandle Bret’s body if he’s unable to sit up on his own. I need Anthony, and I need you.”

“You already have one son! As God is my witness, you are not getting the other!” I waited for her renewed anger to pass. “Why him, and why me?”

“The curse that Bret picked up, was meant for Anthony. Bret was trying to protect his brother, thinking my… influence… would protect him from the full effects of the curse. And I must say, after hearing the details from Anthony, it did. I’m going to put the curse back in Anthony’s hands, but in a way that won’t affect him. Anthony will then be able to remove the curse not only from Bret, but from your house. And I need you, because you’re his mother. And not much more powerful than a mother’s love.”

“I can call an elder from my church over to carry the curse away.” I shook my head. “Why not?”

“Anthony’s hands are dirty, and I think you know precisely what I mean by that. It’s because of his dirty hands that the curse was placed in the first place. He needs to own his shit and be a part of the removing of it. Yes, that means he’s at risk of the curse falling on him. But, he chose to play this game, he has to take the risks. A church elder, or anyone else, would only be delaying the inevitable. Anthony has to face this.”

Clara began weeping again, but not as intense as before. “Okay. If this is what you’re going to do, I’ll allow it. But I pray before you start!”

I nodded in agreement. “I’ll need you to. It’s your house. Your son. You have to take ownership of the house, and then explicitly allow me to continue. And once I’m done, I’ll need you to pray over house and son again.” She seemed surprised to hear my request.

“Okay, how much time do you need?”

“A few hours.”

“That’s all?”

“I could make it last longer with a bunch of handwaving. But really, just a few hours. If the curse comes out quickly, may not even take a whole hour.”

“So, today?”

“Right now, if you allow.”

“Anthony! Come on! We’re leaving.” She turns back to me. “Follow me in your car.”

Marcus walked up to us. “Actually… Mom… um… I need to hit up a friend for that fresh egg. How about an egg laid today? I can get a couple, so if one egg doesn’t work…” He patted the concealed bundle.

“Then how will I get home if you have the car?”

“Ms. Kerian. She said the more fresh the egg, the better. And I know some folks that sell fresh eggs. They don’t need to know why I want it. I’ll just say I’m going to try to make gourmet omelettes.”

Clara was hesitant, but agreed. She rode in my car and navigated me to her house, while Anthony went off to get freshly laid eggs, and dispose of the curse bundle.

Anthony had made a phone call after leaving us. A large member of his krew was waiting at Clara’s house. Almost as wide as he is tall, and with a deep ringing baritone of a voice. “Ms. Clara. Mam… er… Ma’am.” He greeted us as we exited my car. “Marcus called me, asked if I would come help. Told me to come help move Bret.”

Clara eyed him with disdain. I asked the man for his name, he said he was called Tinkles. At the name, Clara couldn’t help but start giggling. Even I looked at him with suspicion. “Long story, Ma’am. I’m stuck with Tinkles.” He waved away the hope of hearing the story.

“Okay, Tinkles. You may get covered in bodily fluids. In vomit and piss and shit, and hopefully it won’t happen, blood. Would that be a problem?”

“Ma’am. I’ve held a woman as she gave birth. Not a problem.” His deep voice held pride and regret. I looked at Clara. Clara nodded.

“Are you religious, Tinkles?” I was thinking how to ask if being present at a working would bother him.

“Ma’am. I know you’re not a Mambo. But everyone else thinks you are. There’s not much you can do that can scare me. I’ve watched Bret go from another piece of shit hoodrat, to someone that I really can believe will make something more of himself. And I know your juju had a large part of that.” I felt my face redden. “Marcus told me someone tried to curse him, and Bret caught it instead. I’m here to help Bret however you need me to. And after, I’ll help Marcus find whoever set the curse in the first place. Whatever you need me to do, just tell me.”

“Tinkles, you’re going to stay outside with me. Clara, do you have the vinegar, buckets, and salt?” Clara nodded. “Go inside, and pray over the house. Each and every room. Call on your god, and claim what you need to claim. As you pray, you want to bind anything that wants to harm your family. Don’t be surprised if Bret is suddenly in pain. Don’t relent, but don’t tarry, either. Then take a bucket of water, and pour enough salt in it to make it smell like the ocean. Pray over that salt water. When you’re ready, you’re going to meet me and Tinkles at the door. You’re going to sprinkle us with the salt water, and bind anything that would harm your family. Understand?”

She nodded and went inside. Tinkles stood outside with me. “Tinkles, do you have an idea who did this?”

“Yes, Ma’am, I do. And I ain’t too happy about it.”

“Don’t tell me who. If you can, tell me why.”

Tinkles sighed. “Because jealous bitches are jealous as fuck, that’s why. When she finds out Marcus went to you for help, instead of her, she’s going to be livid.”

“Did Marcus show you the bundle?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“You know who would have access to that much of his cut hair.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Did he figure it out?”

Another deep sigh from Tinkles. “Jealous bitches be crazy, Ma’am. And love is blind as fuck. He probably knows, just don’t want to accept it yet. That’s a hell of a betrayal, after all.”

I sighed, and nodded. This just made disposing of the curse, a little harder. A car pulls up. Marcus steps out, with his jacket now open, and fresh scratches on his face. He reaches into the trunk, and retrieves a basket of eggs. “I know a botanica, and I made them a deal. I owe them a favor, in exchange for a few eggs laid yesterday that don’t have any thing on them.”

I looked over the eggs. “Were these laid by a black hen?”

“Possibly.”

“What was the deal, Marcus. Tell me plain.”

“I may have to help with one of their workings.”

“Dirty hands for dirty work, Marcus?” He looked away.

“If that meeting went well, what happened to your face?” Now Tinkles looked away.

“I, um. It’s not your problem, Ma’am.”

“If it involves the curser, then it is my problem.”

“I asked her if she left the bundle, she said she did. She offered to lift the curse. But I didn’t like the terms. I never laid a hand on her, I know how that game is played. So when she started hitting me, I dragged her outside so everyone can see. She bragged she had my blood, now, and my pain is only beginning. Whatever. Bitch cursed my little brother. And like you said, I have dirty hands.”

Now I looked away. And sighed. “Marcus, when it gets to the point where you are taking the curse away from this house… You are going to be tempted to ignore my instructions and give the curse back to her. When it gets to that point, remember, the best way you can help your brother after this, is to be here for him. So what, she has your blood on her hands. She’ll only fuck herself over at this point. The only way she can hurt you after this, is if you let her.” I turned to Tinkles. “You may have to be the steady head when his goes over the wall.” Tinkles nodded.

Clara appeared at the door. “Okay, I’m ready.” I explained the cleansing to Marcus as Clara sprinkled Tinkles with the salt water. I noted as I came inside, the interior of the house had a cloying sick smell to it. But the air felt clean. I knew Clara’s prayers were effective.

The living room furniture had been pushed to one side of the room. A tarp had been laid down in the space, with old sheets layered above that. Clara showed me the jug of vinegar that had been set to the side, and the several buckets of water that were also salted. She asked Tinkles to help her bring Bret to the front of the house.

“What are the eggs for?” Marcus placed the basket next to the vinegar.

“I’m going to pull the curse into the egg. If the egg cracks while I’m doing it, I have to discard it and try again. The egg has to remain whole from start to finish.”

Clara comes into the living room, with Tinkles right behind carrying Bret. A horrible smell of putrescence preceded him, almost causing me to vomit myself. As Tinkles laid the sick teenager onto the living room floor, I was horrified by his appearance.

He was horribly thin. His shirt covered in fresh vomit, which itself was the wrong sorts of color for someone that hasn’t eaten in two days. I could feel the heat of his fever from across the room, and his eyes were sunken and darkened.

“And the hospital said he wasn’t sick enough?” Clara’s face flashed with fresh anger.

I centered myself, and used my senses to take a fresh look at Bret. There was a flash of insight, of a giant devouring worm chewing on him from the inside. I saw Bret’s instinct was partially correct. The worm couldn’t kill him quickly because of my claim on Bret. If Marcus had caught the curse, he would likely be dead by now. But my influence was not enough to stop the worm entirely.

“Clara. Tinkles. Strip him. Completely. Clara, you need to wash him down. First with the salt water, then with vinegar. The vinegar will cause him pain, but it’s not physical. You’re shaking the curse loose from his bones. Tinkles, I’ll need you to help her. Anthony can not touch Bret, at all, until after all this is done.”

They did as I told them to. The water relieved Bret’s discomfort. He started to come around. “Ms. Ke… Keri… am I dead?”

“What makes you think you’re dead, James?”

“Be… be…. because my mother would never let you in this house, that’s why.” Clara started silently weeping as she continued wiping him down.

“No, James. You’re not dead. But your mother is quite pissed. You might be in trouble once this is all over.”

“Oh. O… Okay. Yea.”

Clara put aside the filthy cloth and picked up the jug of vinegar and a fresh cloth. She looked at me in askance. I nodded and explained to her, “You’ve wiped off the filth that comes with illness. Now he, and the curse in him, is fully exposed. The vinegar will not harm flesh, but it is a purgative. The same way vinegar dislodges dirt, so will it dislodge the curse. But it will be painful to him. Such is the nature of parasites. Do not relent, do not hold back. Wash him.”

The moment she touched the cool soaked cloth to his skin, he screamed. Not a yelp of unexpected temperature, but a primal scream of pain. Even though she used gentle strokes, he sobbed that she was ripping the skin off his flesh. When Tinkles moved him into a different position, he cried that his bones were wrenched out of joint. Marcus was beside himself to watch his brother tormented by the very action meant to bring him relief.

“That’s enough, Mom! That has to be enough!” Marcus lurched forward, but I managed to catch him. “Stop it! Can’t you see it’s hurting him! Maybe we can just ride it out!” Clara was heard quietly sobbing.

“Marcus. Just riding it out will kill him. It really sucks that Bret is suffering your punishment, but this will end it. You have to let it happen.” Tinkles’ voice was quiet but steady. The accusation in it was clearly heard.

Clara paused. “Whose punishment? What do you mean, ‘punishment’? This came about because of something Anthony did?”

“Clara. Keep wiping Bret down with the vinegar. You’re almost done. Focus. Don’t worry about Tinkles’ choice of words. Anthony knows what he meant, and that’s all that matters.” Clara listened to my voice, set her jaw, then set about wiping down her screaming son with the vinegar.

“Kerian.” Clara placed the vinegar cloth in the pile with the dirtied clothes. “What happened to my son?”

“From what I understand, someone wanted Anthony to be dependent on them. Bret intercepted the attempt. Because I have an ownership over Bret, the curse was slowed down. And here we are, removing that curse.”

Clara nodded. “Okay, the vinegar is done, now what?”

I picked up the basket of eggs, and a trashcan. “Now, you spinkle me with salt water again, and I get to work.” As Clara did so, I said to Marcus, “From this point on, do not touch anyone. Not me, not your mother, not your brother, not Tinkles. I’m going to pull the curse into an egg. If the egg cracks, it is useless and I have to start again. If the egg remains whole, I’m going to put the cursed egg into a bucket of salt water.”

Marcus moved to the far side of the room while I spoke. “Once the egg is placed in the salt water, the curse is trapped and sealed away from Bret. His body will recover. What you need to do, is take that bucket and find some running water. You are going to take the egg, with your bare hands, and throw the egg into that running water with enough force to crack it. If it doesn’t break, throw a rock on top of it to crush it.”

He nodded as I knelt beside the whimpering boy. “Marcus, do not crack the egg on your body. You were the intended target, remember. You may be dead by sunrise if you do. And do not be tempted to break the cursed egg on anyone else, including the person you suspect sent the curse. I know you have dirty hands. Keep it at that.” Marcus said nothing, only sat on the floor and watched.

“Tinkles.” The large man looked down at me. “Adjust your grip on him to restrain his arms. He’s not all there and may feel like I’m stealing part of his soul away.” I turned over my shoulder to Clara. “Ever have a cast?” She nodded. “Remember how when the cast was taken off, you felt like you lost a part of yourself for a few hours?” She nodded again. Then her face brightened in understanding. “He’s not going to understand why he feels like something is ripping at him. His instinct will be to stop me.”

“Okay, Ma’am. He’s not going to be able to stop you.”

I took an egg, and held it to my lips. I could feel the essence of the unfertilized egg filling the shell. In a sudden sip of air, I devoured that essence, leaving behind a physically whole, but magically empty egg shell. I knew Tinkles was not ready for the fight about to take place, and mentally counted this egg a loss.

I placed the egg against Bret’s forehead, knowing Bret’s soul would remain in his body, but the parasitic curse would have no such anchor. At once the curse began to be drawn into the magic vacuum of the egg. Bret screamed and bucked violently, smashing his head against the egg and violently kicking at me.

I dropped the crushed egg’s remains in the trash, noting a tiny spec of black was in the yolk. As I wiped my hands, Tinkles recovered from his surprise, and adjusted his grip on the frail boy. “Can you hold him, Tinkles?”

“Ma’am, you didn’t tell me he would be like someone on angel dust.”

“But, can you hold him?”

“I can now.”

“He might shit on you.”

“He wouldn’t be the first. I have him. Do what you need to do.”

Tinkles’ huge body was wrapped almost corkscrew around the teen’s thin naked body. Even his chin was locked against Bret’s head. Bret had just enough space to breathe, and none else.

I took another of the botanica’s eggs, and prepared it the same as the first. Placing the egg against Bret’s forehead, he screamed and tried to buck again. All he accomplished was the gentle rocking of Tinkles’ body against the cold floor.

Suddenly, the egg cracked in my hand. No outside pressure had been applied. It just exploded. The yolk held a vile smell with streaks of black visible. I cleaned that off my hands and off Bret’s panicked face.

A third egg. It held as the curse was extracted from Bret’s head. It held as the curse was extracted from Bret’s chest. It exploded on contact with Bret’s genitals. As I cleaned the mess off my hands, Clara cleaned the mess off of Bret. I didn’t not question her. This is her son, after all. And I am still suspect in her eyes.

A fourth egg. It held through contact with Bret’s head, chest, and genitals. When I held the egg to Bret’s feet, I could feel the pressure in the egg increase. A sense of trembling from the egg. Then nothing. It held. I used my senses to examine Bret, and saw no imagery of the parasitic worm. When I examined the egg, the putrescence that assaulted me almost caused me to vomit. The curse was removed from Bret, and trapped in the egg.

I placed the egg in the waiting bucket. “Okay Marcus Anthony, come take charge of this mess.” He got up and came over to me. “Take this bucket, and go find a river, creek, or other moving water. If all you can find is a water culvert, well, that will just have to do. Throw the egg into the water so it cracks against the creekbed. Failing that, throw a rock on it. But no matter what, don’t crack the egg in your hand. Leave the egg in the salt water until you’re ready to throw it.”

He took the bucket quietly and started to leave the house.

“One more thing, General.” He stopped. “Don’t throw the egg at a person. Because once that curse finishes fucking over your target, it will make its way back to you. It’s not worth it.” He grunted, and left the house with the bucket. I heard him start his car, and drive away.

“Clara, the curse is out of the house, but you still have work to do. Get clean water, and salt it. Get a clean cloth, and wash your son, one last time. Pray over him, in the manner of your choosing. You’re sealing him.”

I looked up, and saw Tinkles still had the lockgrip on him. “You can relax, now, Tinkles. The hard part is over.” He did. As Clara washed Bret, the boy moved somewhat at first, then opened his eyes with a clarity I had not seen since entering the house.

“Mom? Why are you washing me? Why am I naked? What happened?” Clara grabbed a clean towel and covered Bret’s genitals, praying and crying while she did so. “Ms. K! What’s going on?”

“Do you remember any strange packages at the front door?” I ask him with severity.

“Um… yea… Hey, why is Tinkles here?” He twisted his head to look behind him. “Ugh, I shouldn’t have…” The vertigo twisted his stomach, and he vomited one last time. The matter was clear, stinky, and completely normal. Both Clara and I sighed in satisfaction.

“Quit changing the subject. Next time you find something like that, don’t mess with it. Call in professionals, of which, I am not one.”

I stood up and started gathering my coat and purse. “Clara, there is no further need for me to be here. Once you wash him and get him back to bed, walk the house again. Wash the soiled cloths if you like, or throw them away. They are not tainted so it’s up to you what to do with them. Feed him light broths to start, then go as you please.”

“Did you release my son from his debt to you?”

“No. When he graduates later this year with a B average or better, his debt to me will be paid. And only then.”

“After he recovers, you’ll have to explain this again to me.”

I stood at the door of Clara’s house and turned back to face her. “You know where to find me.”

I walked out of the house. As I walked to my car, the dream faded and ended.

Make of that, what you may.