Jeff Strand - A Bad Day for Voodoo

“I cast spell of protection. Slight dimensional shift. Things not normal. Safer.”

“Safer?” I asked. “We were anything but safe tonight!”

“You go into bad neighborhood. Without spell of protection, you dead in thirty seconds. Spell not work perfect, maybe cause some strange things to happen, but overall, safer.”

“This is insane.”

“Keep blood from coming out as fast. You still alive, yes?” “Can you remove its power?” I asked. “The Chosen One doesn’t want any more of my body parts to fly off.”

“You sarcastic,” said Esmeralda. “I should kick doll across room.” “No, no, no, I apologize. I’ve known Adam for a long time, and I never really thought of him in that way, but every flower needs to bloom, I guess. I feel protected from the hobgoblins already.” “We promise to worship Adam as much as you want,” said Kelley. “But please, can you take away the doll’s power?” “Chosen One must ask.”

Adam walked over to the counter. “It would be really cool if you’d turn it back into a regular doll.”

“So I shall. Simple spell. Take fifteen, twenty seconds at most.” I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Spell do require sixteen inches ofintestine from afflicted party.” “I beg your pardon?”

“Lower intestine, though. Not big deal. Large intestine removal hurt, but you no miss lower intestine much.”

“I hope you’re kidding,” I said.

Esmeralda nodded. “Yes. Gypsy magic not humorless. Recite words, wave hands, spell over. My daughter’s role entirely with mind. Easy spell.”

“Thank God.”

“All I need is original doll and original victim.”

“Excuse me?”

“First doll.” She held up my doll. “This second doll. Need both to remove spell.”

“We didn’t bring the other doll,” I said. “It’s at my house.” “Pity.”

I closed my eyes and took several deep, calming, soothing breaths. When I opened my eyes again, my life still sucked. “Okay. We’ll get the other doll. I guess it was silly for us to think that we wouldn’t have further need of the doll after Mr. Click’s neck got broken.”

“Sarcasm again. I impale doll on car antenna.”

“I apologize again.” I rubbed my forehead to ease the oncoming headache and tried to convince myself that this was no big deal. “This is no big deal,” I said. “No big deal at all. I know exactly where the doll is, and we’ll just go get it, bring it back, and.. .did you say first victim?”

“Yes.”

“You mean my history teacher?”

“Yes.”

“You need us to bring you Mr. Click?”

“Yes. Tall order, admittedly.”

“Why didn’t your daughter tell me any of this on the phone?” Kelley asked.

“She not phone person. Too impersonal. She not fan of texting either. I think is good. Have skilled thumbs.”

“Great.”

“You not first teenagers to steal dead body. Pose as medical students. Girl distract security guard with beauty. Put history teacher on gurney and cover with sheet. Look like you know what you doing when you wheel gurney to exit. Nobody stop you.” “He’s not in the morgue anymore,” I said. “He came after us! Came after Adam, actually.”

Esmeralda frowned. “That interesting.”

“His leg was back on, and he was running around, and he kept trying to strangle Adam!”

“He probably have unfinished business. Like I say, my spell make strange things happen. This odd side effect. Not easy for cadaver to escape morgue and hospital and run down streets of city, chasing after victim without attracting attention. Kudos to Chosen One’s natural ability to enhance spell.”

“He’s in the sewer,” I said.

“Why he look for Adam in sewer?”

“No, we put him there.”

“Disrespectful to educator.”

“He was trying to strangle the Chosen One,” I said. “What else were we supposed to do?”

“Maybe he not trying to strangle. Maybe he trying to hug Chosen One’s neck.”

“Are you kidding again?” I asked.

“Yes. I make jolly.”

“So what you’re saying is that we have to drag Mr. Click out of the sewer and bring him back here.”

“That basic gist, yes. But that easier than original morgue plan, so when you think about it, living dead teacher good thing. Go. We care for doll while you gone. Not let monkeys steal it. We do spell when you return.”

The other woman, who’d said nothing since Esmeralda came out and, now that I think of it, had kind of looked like she was in a trance the entire time, blinked. “When they return?”

“Yes. When they. ..oh no.”

“I thought we were starting now.”

“No.”

“I’m sorry. I thought these kids would appreciate that I went ahead and got started. And when I go into the dazed state, I don’t really hear anything.”

Esmeralda returned her attention to me. “Small problem that I think you no like,” she said. “Spell already in progress. My sister not aware of complications involving other doll and first victim that we discuss earlier. You now have, how you say, ticking clock.”

“What kind of ticking clock?”

The younger woman took over. “Think of it as being like the alarm clock you use to wake yourself up in the morning to go to school. Except that instead of making a beeping sound, it causes your body to incinerate from the inside out and banishes your soul to hell.”

“I.. .would not enjoy that alarm,” I said.

“Maybe it’s not specifically hell. Someplace very similar, though. Lakes of fire for sure.”

“I don’t want to be rude,” I said, wanting very much to be rude, “but if the risk of hellfire was involved, do you think maybe you could have verified that it was time to start the spell beforehand?” “Most people who seek enchanted objects actually want them to do what they’re supposed to. We don’t get a high return rate. I empathize with your plight, but it’s not my fault that you dabbled in the dark arts without being ready to commit.”

I said, “I didn’t—” and then decided that I should stop talking. My sense of moral outrage at their poor customer service had to take a backseat to the race against time to avoid internal incineration.

“How long do we have?” Kelley asked.

“From when I started the spell? About an hour and a half. So let’s say ninety minutes minus a couple of minutes. I’ve never been one to interfere in other people’s business, but my recommenda- tion—and it’s only a recommendation—is that you get moving.”

CHAPTER 26

To demonstrate how much time was of the essence, I’m going to skip the part where we exchanged a few more lines of dialogue, left Esmeralda’s House of Jewelry, had a wacky misadventure where we couldn’t find the keys to the taxi, fought a bird (long story), got the cab in motion, discussed whether we should try to retrieve Mr. Click or the other doll first, decided on Mr. Click in a surprisingly unanimous decision, and drove toward the manhole where we would hopefully still find our history teacher.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” I asked Adam.

“Tell you what?”

“That you got the voodoo doll for free because they think you’re the Chosen One! We asked if you were keeping something from us. You said no. We asked again. You said no. We knew you were lying. Do you know how embarrassing it is to hear about this from a stranger?”

“I don’t want to be the Chosen One,” said Adam. “I mean, I don’t even want to be a hall monitor, so how can I be responsible for saving humanity?”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, she’s clearly a raving lunatic.”

“I don’t know. I’ve always felt like I was meant for something important, something historic, but I thought maybe I’d become a famous singer or something. Remember that one song I wrote, where I tapped spoons on glasses? That was kind of catchy, right?”