6°47'56.7"N 5°16'33.8"W – Yamoussoukro, Ivory Coast

21.05.2024- 09.30 UTC +00.00

I stood across the room, at a healthy distance from the five pouches at the center of the living room. All the windows were shut and curtains drawn, making sure no one would be able to peek inside the small house this man had chosen as a hideout.

Julien stepped around, whispering things, talking to himself, or perhaps to his own Curse. I wouldn’t know.

I had never heard of a “knowledge” Ward, or whatever it was this man claimed to do. But it was as good a bet as any. I tapped my thigh and belt with my fingers, fidgeting nervously.

“This is a hideout, isn’t it?” I asked eventually, formulating what had made me uncomfortable from the beginning. This man did not know we were visiting, and Drissa hadn’t explained. So he was already in hiding.

“Hideout might be a bit too overdramatic. But please, let me think for a moment.” He continued speaking and whispering to himself. He looked at his watch, a cheap knock-off of a smartwatch, nodded, and then continued talking to himself.

I continued tapping my fingers.

“Chalk, can you grab me some chalk?” He asked eventually.

“Uhm”

“On the counter,” he pointed at a dusty table at the corner of the room that would be the closest thing to a kitchen. He continued murmuring.

I grabbed three small pieces of chalk, and passed them on.

“This is perfectly normal,” he told me, but felt more directed to himself, “I will have to talk a bit louder I think.”

I did not respond. I stood back and waited to observe.

After grabbing the chalk, he started talking at it, but I could not tell what he said while mumbling. His eyes maintained focus however – they did not even blink, picking my interest.

He looked at me momentarily, both annoyed and excited by my attention. Could he already sense my interest? I had not understood how his ward would work, but he claimed, he would know me.

Whatever that meant. I stopped tapping my fingers. I realized that if that statement was true, he would perhaps know me infinitely more than I would. I did not know what I was. And even if I learned, I was sure I would hate it.

Julien fell on his knees and frantically started writing on the wooden floor and walls. I took a step forward, trying to understand what he had written.

It was ineligible, or rather meaningless. I could understand some words in French, but they did not form meaningful sentences. Some words were linked with long lines. Sometimes he would use abbreviations that I would not recognize.

I gradually started losing interest. What I could not understand, was not meant for me. The man was now speeding up, quickly covering up random places in the house with what could only be described as the scribbles of a madman. Perhaps that was what he was.

Suddenly, he paused, chalk still in hand, unblinking eyes.

Ten seconds passed. A minute, which I counted by tapping my fingers.

I stopped and made a step forward. I had seen enough.

“I am not a liability,” Julien said.

“Never thought you were.”

“You think everyone is. But in this case, you are the liability. This is the answer.”

“Excuse me?”

He was talking still paused mid-pose of writing with the chalk. Eyes unblinking. But now as he spoke, I could feel his presence everywhere in the house. He wasn’t mind reading, he was simply there. I felt my neck hair rise.

He dropped the chalk and stood up. He was no longer in this bizarre trance, which I was hoping was a good sign.

“As I said, you are the liability. You are the only one who can open those pouches, that’s why your employer hired you. You have died many times. Not many people this side of Africa are capable of this.”

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“I… yes. Stop speaking in riddles, what is in there?” I pointed at the pouches.

“I don’t know, but I know how they open. In the right order. If you attempt to open them in the wrong order, you die. Simple as that. Touch with the clear intention to open the wrong pouch first, boom! Instant Killing hex. That is all.”

I looked at the pouches on the table.

“I don’t follow.”

“You were the whole point, Demi. You are the one who can try opening them, using someone else with your Curse. Or bringing back someone who failed. A Killing hex is nothing for you. You weave people back.”

“It’s not me that weaves…” I said, losing my train of thought, and then it hit me, “I had already done it.”

Kouadio’s sudden death by hex, Rox’s betrayal at the camp. I replayed all the events in my head.

Kouadio must have tried to open his pouch, and it was the wrong one. He paid the price, but then I simply brought him back as Sparked. I did not know how important that was.

Guarin, Akissi, Rox, Marin, myself, why would anyone hire so many greedy mercenaries? This story about everyone holding a decoy pouch was just a pretense. The pouches were always sealed by hex. They needed a group to start opening them, and one of us to use their Curse to bring them back. Myself.

I remembered we were sitting by the fire, and Rox was out of words. They were all shocked when they discovered my Curse, when I brought Kouadio back as Sparked. Akissi was angry at Kouadio’s desecration, but Rox, no, Rox was the most troubled. I always thought she was disgusted by my kind of Curse.

And then eventually she killed everyone. It never added up: she was also Cursed, powerfully so. So, what was the shock in her eyes? What had she realized when she learned about my Curse?

I had seen this all wrong. I always thought Rox betrayed us that night to get the pouches for herself. But maybe Rox knew about the enchantment and what was inside these goddamn parcels. Rox was somehow in on it and was just waiting for us to open them. But then she realized, I held all the power, more than I was meant to. That this could only play out with me taking things for myself, too soon.

Or maybe she wanted to stop us from opening them.

I am sorry, Kouadio I am sorry. Please please I HAD NO CHO-

These were her last words before Kouadio turned her brain to mush. I had avoided going back to Kouadio’s memories. His eyes always painted his actions of violence with purpose and meaning, but in reality, he was a big scary man smashing a little woman’s head. Perhaps her words were honest.

“You were the delivery Demi,” Julien said, as if uttering the most obvious thing in the world. His dark eyes had now a blue hue. “And this is why no one is hunting you while you have these.”

“They are now hoping that I will break the enchantment. I could have done it any moment during the trip if I had just ordered Kouadio to do it. I just… hadn’t realized. They knew I would resist if they explained, and they tried to set me up. I came here exactly to do that.”

“The question is, who are they? Who paid you?”

“What do you know about the Kanem Empire and the Ngâm Kúrà?” I asked back ironically. As I asked, he blinked his eyes, as if he was trying to think if he knew anything about them.

“I do not know much,” he said frustrated. He closed his eyes. “Nigeria? Or Chad? I don’t think I have ever been so East and warded anyone that knows so that I…”

“It’s fine. Don’t bother. Not many people know about it. It is a fallen empire. But they still have their royals. It was one of them that paid me a lot of money. I suspect they would fly us somewhere to the East. N’Djamena? Agoladei? Who knows. I would give them their weapon or whatever this is, and then leave.”

He looked at me in the most disapproving way possible.

“Hey. I have done countless illegal jobs. And trust me, this is not the most dangerous situation I have been in. It is just the first time…”

“…someone was planning to trap you and use you. You are now angry at yourself.”

“Okay,” I said angrily, “I get it. You know me while we are here in your castle of chalk. No need to clap back everything I think.”

I started walking around the house looking at the pouches. I had to think my way out of this. I came here thinking we would need a ritual to open those, we would do it, and I would take whatever treasure and use it against the people pursuing me.

But now I could sense clearly, that this was someone’s plan all along. Me thinking I am cool, and breaking those open for someone else.

Julien sat on a cushion, so happy with himself and his work, so much so that I ended up angrier at him rather than my stupid ass that took on this job.

“Fuck,” I stopped walking around, “Rox was right, I guess. That’s what The Haunt said. And then I stabbed my own head. Well, Kouadio was. They were afraid I could kill myself. End it all.”

Everything was starting to fall into place. All that was left was figuring out who was foe and friend, and it was clear this Haunt-person was no friend. But was this the only person pursuing me now? Were they working for the Kanem Empire? Was Rox working for them?

“Excuse me?” Julien asked and looked at me.

“Julien, this must be bigger than you think. I think I need to leave you two before…”

I was about to explain when Julien’s phone rang. On the table next to the pouches, the phone vibrated and he sprang to it. As he was about to pick it up, he paused. I could see Drissa’s name on the phone.

“What are you waiting for?” I asked.

“This is not Drissa. I cannot tell who they are, but I can sense their Curses. A lot of them, but at least one is veiling their identity.”

I grabbed it from his hands before he could protest.

“I am done playing,” I said quietly on the phone.

“Did you figure it out, spider?” I heard the Haunt’s voice, for the first time through my own ears. But I could not be mistaken. Their androgynous voice was coming right through the phone, and into my head. The mocking tone was impossible to mistake. They cackled on the phone.

“If you have hurt him, I swear to all that is unholy, I will gut you.”