6°37'08"N 6°02'49"W

  Kouétinfla, C?te d’Ivoire

  20.05.2024 – 14.00 UTC+00:00

  I could remember every horrible thing I did while within his body, but nothing from The After. It was only Kouadio that got to see her, and I was not to inherit those memories.

  I was sure she was good to him.

  There was no time for a funeral, but I grabbed some mud from the street and poured it on him. It was more than I had managed for anyone else in our unfortunate company. I thought of Marin’s body still lying rotting by the wet grounds of Cavalla River, Guarin and Akissi bleeding out in the jungle, for the animals to scour, Rox’s splattered head adorning a terrified Cursed body that no scavenger would dare approach.

  “You were a brave warrior,” I said. And he got further than all of them.

  I stood there for a moment, watching his body breaking down, in fast forward.

  It was enough. I picked up the phone from my pocket and hit the speed dial.

  “I need your help. Meet me in the usual place. I will be there in two, maybe three hours,” I said as I headed back to the car I had been using the past couple of days.

  ? ? ?

  I downed a glass of koutoukou, sitting in the bar I frequented back when I used to live in this town. Getting all the way to Yamoussoukro took only a couple of hours. They were as uneventful as my trip before finding Kouadio. Once I arrived at our usual bar, I picked the corner-most table. The owners knew not to bother patrons sitting there.

  I took some time to think before he arrived.

  Whatever psychic curses The Haunt possessed, they seemingly could not find me. Or perhaps they were still searching for me in Kouadio’s body. His rampage in Kouétinfla, although unfortunate, had proven very useful. This “Haunt” was either working for our employer or was working against them. In any case, I could no longer fulfill the mission, but that had left me with the enchanted pouches. I did not dare open them; who knew what would happen if I did? And I was also operating in rogue: the mission had failed, and I still had the contraband on me.

  No matter which way I spun this, I had to find a way to open the pouches or get rid of them.

  A slender young man entered the bar. He was slightly taller than me, with traditionally feminine piercings on his left ear. His hair had grown since the last time I had seen him. And if I were not expecting him, I would not have known how to recognize him. He had grown up and changed. Matured.

  His eyes searched around. When he saw me, he approached my table right away.

  “Drissa,” I said.

  “Teacher,” Drissa said and nodded. He sat across the table, awkwardly in silence. He should have guessed things were serious if that was the way we met, after all those years. I was not going to sugarcoat it.

  “You are in danger,” I said, leaning forward, “anyone who knows me is. But you are the only one I can and must trust.”

  “What happened?” He asked.

  “I have angered the wrong Curses.” I slid a paper toward him, “This is a bank account. There is not much inside. Empty it and take your parents and leave the Coast for a few months. Take a flight to Tombouctou. Or you have family in Sunyani, right? I don’t know, anywhere. Until things calm down.”

  “I…”

  “Before you do that, you have to tell me. You know many young Cursed here in the city. Is there anyone with attunement to objects? Enchantments? Able to find ways to break hexes?”

  The boy sat in silence for a moment.

  “I know someone. But if helping you would bring him trouble, you can forget it.”

  “Drissa, you can’t dodge this. You have to help me. You know what binds us. As long as I live, I will let no harm come to you.” I noticed his worried expression. “Same as your friend, if you introduce him to me. He can be under my protection. I need someone to break a hex. Or else, there is no hope for either of us. And if I am right, for no one in the Coast.”

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  The next morning came with humidity that made the skin boil under the sun, but luckily no clouds. I had chosen to rest in the car I had stolen and parked it on the busiest side of the center. Drissa had offered to host me for the night, but I had refused.

  “We meet in the morning, you introduce me to this guy, and then I am off.

  Grande Mosquée de Yamoussoukro. One of the busiest landmarks of the city, and hopefully one where we could blend in with the crowd. I was not much of a believer, having seen the things I had seen. But many were, and the majestic temple lured crowds around the country.

  Drissa spotted me first. We exchanged a nod from afar, and I followed him into the streets of the merchant’s quarter. Busy, noisy, filled with intense aromas. The Dioulakro, in the southern part of the capital of the Coast. Buildings were all at most one story high, nothing compared to the bustling cities of the southwest, like Monrovia. Still, the crowd was a good cover.

  I could see Drissa felt comfortable walking around in this area. He had grown up here. I had not, and all I thought about was how exposed we would be if the wrong people looked for us. Were the men in the corners paid by the merchants selling wares, or spies of this “Haunt”?

  Drissa casually greeted an old man walking in the street, exchanging a few words. I finally caught up to him as the man handed him some money. Then they waved goodbye.

  “You still haven’t picked up any of the Baoulé?” Drissa said. He looked at me, trying to guess if I had understood the exchange. I had not.

  “I was only taught French. You know that. Was that your friend?”

  “No. Just an errand I had to run. We have to head further south west,” he said as he counted the greasy blue bills quickly. He then curled them into a cylinder and tucked them in his pocket. “You also speak that Kru thing from the west. When it matters. I have seen it once.”

  He always knew what to say to push my buttons. He knew I would only speak Dida when I channeled my Curses. It was not a part of me that was taught. More inherited, rather.

  “Shall we go?” he asked, looking at how I had chosen not to respond to his comments. I nodded.

  ? ? ?

  As we walked westbound, clouds gathered. Not enough for a rain, but enough for the sun’s rays to stop blinding us. But that made the condensation of sweat worse. Maybe once this was over, I would permanently move to the most arid place I could find.

  The neighborhood gradually changed from busy to shady. Fewer merchants, fewer buyers. More figures concealing parts of their face.

  “Come,” Drissa said and pulled me into one of the darker alleyways. His phone rang, and he picked it up, anxious. “M’te o.”

  I looked around us. We were alone in the alley, but I could not help but feel like being watched. A group of young men passed by the neighboring street, shouting at each other, entirely ignoring us.

  “Yes. We are coming in two. Yes. Just wait.” Drissa hung up and turned to me. “We are almost there. But, Teacher, listen to me, nothing happens to him, okay?”

  “I have already promised that.”

  “No. Promise this. If anything ever happens, you protect him first, then me. Okay?” Drissa’s eyes turned wet as he said that.

  I tilted my head. Who was this guy?

  “You know I have a full debt of protection with you. I cannot…”

  “If there is a guy who can break Curses, that’s him. So, do you want to meet him or not? First, you protect him, then me.”

  I was not sure Drissa was aware of how heavy the oath I was bearing for his protection was, and how he was asking me to extend this to a random person. But I had little to no options.

  “First him. Where is he?”

  He nodded, and he pulled me deeper into the alley. We crossed through a few streets, and after turning south again, we continued walking down a main street.

  “So, what is it that is putting the Coast in danger?”

  I did not answer.

  “Won’t you tell me? It is only fair, if I am the one leading you to…”

  I pushed him against a wall. My knee locked him in place, my left hand held his head immobile. He was taller than me, but not stronger. And definitely more cowardly than I was at his age.

  “Listen, kid,” I said, lowering my voice to barely audible, but tensing my muscles, tightening my grip over his jaw, “do not mistake my silence for patience. Everyone I know involved in this has died a bloody death. Stop asking questions.”

  I relaxed my grip on him, releasing him.

  His eyes were horrified at my sudden burst of violence and wet from the strain of breathing under a chokehold – but not angry.

  “And stop having us walk in circles just to get more time with me. We need to fucking go. Now.”

  “This isn’t you. This violence is not real.”

  “No, it is not,” I admitted immediately, “it is that brute Akan I had to keep Sparked, still infecting my thoughts. But the urgency is real. So get moving, before we both really, permananetly, die.”