6°47'56.7"N 5°16'33.8"W

  Yamoussoukro, Ivory Coast

  21.05.2024- 09.45 UTC +00.00

  I noticed we had been going in circles for a while, and although initially that unleashed wrath, once that subsided, my interest was piqued – I had taught him to be careful and trust no one, but who exactly was this guy that I had not heard of before? A man he would hesitate to introduce to me?

  He eventually went into one of the backyards of a house that looked abandoned. No open windows, no light, and weathered, unpainted walls. As we stepped closer, the main door opened. A tall man in his twenties opened it, initially appearing threatening with his stern look and athletic body type. He smiled as he saw Drissa and me and revealed his kind features.

  “Hi. Thank you,” Drissa said at the entrance. There was a moment of awkwardness between the two, before the tall man initiated a handshake and patted Drissa’s back.

  “Of course, mate, you can always count on me. And you must be the Teacher?”

  I looked at him, a bit lost in my thoughts. He wore long cargo pants and a dirty tank top, not entirely fitting to his broad build, but for sure accentuating his big arms. He must have been not much older than twenty-one or twenty-two. I could hear his heartbeat; that man was not approaching his thirties but was definitely an adult. His body language showed some familiarity with young Drissa, which triggered my need to seem a bit more protective.

  “Teacher?” Drissa asked, sensing the uncomfortable silence.

  “You can call me Demi.”

  “Julien,” he responded and extended his hand.

  “I don’t do handshakes. But I am pleased to meet you. I am told you have talents I might require.” The man nodded, and I appreciated that he was ready to go right into business. Pleasantries were a waste of time at the moment.

  “Let’s discuss this inside,” he said.

  I nodded and turned to Drissa. I had to try to convince him, if anything, to leave.

  “Thank you for this. I give you all my wishes, wherever you go,” I patted his shoulders. “Once this blows over, I will find you, as I am supposed to. Please keep yourself and your family safe!”

  Drissa first raised one of his eyebrows, processing my proposal. He then gently pushed my hands off his shoulders.

  “Are you serious? I am not leaving the two of you.” He followed Julien inside the house.

  I followed them, startled.

  “Drissa, I told you: you have to leave the city!” I said using the most commanding voice I could.

  “Not until you and Julien are done with whatever this is!” He yelled, going further into the house. I cursed and weighed my options as I followed them.

  The house was not big; the entrance hallway led into a partly furnished living room with a big carpet, pillows, and a table. There was a small TV in one corner, and candles were the only source of lighting as windows were shut and closed, with nailed-in planks. Next to the entrance, there was a door to a small room that was probably meant to be the bathroom, if anyone ever attempted to equip it with a toilet or any plumbing. This was not a decrepit building, as everything felt and seemed sturdy and new, but it was not meant for habitation either.

  Drissa had taken his place and sat on a pillow with his arms leaning back. Julien stepped into the living room and waited.

  “Alright,” I said, “Drissa told me you are a good person. I shall treat you with respect, then. I have nothing to pay you for this service at the moment. This will probably be dangerous, but I will do everything in my power to protect you both. But trust me when I say we are doing this for the good of the people in this godforsaken country.”

  Drissa leaned forward. Julien was not smiling anymore.

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  “If Drissa says I have to help, I don’t expect payment.”

  I stepped forward. It was time to tell my story.

  “I am a mercenary. I use my Curses to support dangerous missions from Guinea to Ghana. Usually, retrieval or delivery missions, where my employers would rather not use a standard delivery service. This was one of these cases, with payment greater than usual. Six of us got a parcel from Liberia, supposed to bring it to a small town in the Ivory Coast. There, our employer would bring a car convoy and bring us all to a private airport they trusted in Yamoussoukro. The flight was planned for somewhere to the East, but I do not know more about it as our mission would end there, once we had handed the parcels.”

  “Kouétinfla. It was in the news. They talked about a massacre,” Julien said. Drissa moved on his pillow awkwardly.

  “To say the least, things went south. There is a new domain in the area to the southwest of here. Someone called The Haunt.” I paused to wait for a reaction.

  “Never heard of them,” Drissa said, “were you involved in the attack?”

  “I am the only surviving one on my team. I have reason to believe our employer used this Haunt-guy, and I no longer aim to complete this mission. But I still have the parcel with me. If I can open it and figure out what it is exactly that I am delivering, I can understand why everything has gone south.”

  “And you need me to open the parcel because it is enchanted closed,” Julien said.

  “Exactly. It is enchanted, as you guess. But,” and as I said that, I took out the six pouches, “it is six of them. Well, two of them most probably have the item we need.”

  I pointed out the ones Kouadio was carrying when he was killed by the screaming hex.

  “How do you…” Drissa aimed to ask.

  “You do not want to know.”

  “Okay,” Julien asked, “so you want me to open six pouches?”

  “The thing is. I do not know what kind of hexes reside in those. Possibly, once opened, we can be tracked or targeted by all kinds of Curses. So, I want you to only risk it if you can handle it. Otherwise, I am happy to go on the run. Maybe find someone else who can do it.”

  I finished my story. I did not feel guilty bringing these kids into this. I was Julien’s age when I had to die the first time. A Curse was meant to be used anyway. Drissa being here felt wrong, however, as there was no way he could help. Julien looked at me, probably thinking along the same train of thought.

  He walked towards a room in the back, and he came back holding a rifle. He extended it to Drissa, who stood up awkwardly.

  “You take this, and you run guard outside. If anyone comes near, ring me on my phone. You do not shoot. You only have this if you are cornered. Ring me and run, you hear me? You find Karidja and you tell her what happened.”

  “Julien, I am not leaving…”

  “Listen. I know. You are a brave kid. But if your teacher is right, and we get into trouble, we will need someone to call for help. You are that someone.” He pushed the rifle onto him.

  Drissa looked at me.

  “He is right. This is just in case things go wrong,” I said. Drissa reluctantly stepped out.

  I was left alone with Julien in this room.

  “What is in there?” He asked me, without hiding his aggressiveness.

  “I do not…”

  “Leave your long words out of this, woman. Speak, what did you bring to Drissa?” Julien’s muscles visibly tensed and broadened as he spoke. His facial expression turned sour, and his jaw tightened.

  All the pretense of a good and respectful attitude was gone. I tried to interpret his change of attitude: was it that Drissa never communicated the danger beforehand? Or was Julien being overprotective of Drissa, like I was?

  I did not fear him. I had a handgun at the back of my belt, and I had the training of disposing of men like this. Admittedly, that would clash with the promise I had given to Drissa.

  “Charming,” I responded, disregarding his threatening body language, “I suspect some kind of weapon. Something worth killing for. There are many legends in West Africa about Cursed artifacts that can kill, dominate, and bring down civilizations if we were to believe the stories. It could be any of them.”

  “If you were to hazard a guess?”

  “I lack the knowledge; I was hoping your Curse could reveal this.”

  “I harness the knowledge of my ward,” he said, and walked around the table, coming closer to me. “I know everything about anyone and anything that enters my ward. Including how to break any enchantment that is presented to me. This does not mean I necessarily have the means to break it. So, this is a big gamble.”

  He was now standing in front of me, looking down at me. I stiffened my arm, ready to respond to violence, if that was to happen.

  “Do not worry,” he smiled, “I haven’t set up my ward yet. But once I do, I will not just know things about you. I will know you.”

  His words made me uncomfortable, but I was now committed to doing this.

  “I am an open book,” I said, and I dropped the six pouches on the table in the middle of the living room.