Cursed Read Free Page B

leave now, we’ll get stuck in a few funeral processions on our way out of town. It’s about the time when they start up,” he said, aware that at least two graveyards were between his grandmama’s house and the downtown apartment where his mother lived. “We’ll play next time, Uncle Tommy.”
    “A’ight.”
    Jayden flashed another smile and jogged to the picnic table area. He grabbed a pulled pork slider, tossed the football on the ground under a massive oak tree and headed towards the house. Dear god, could the elderly voodoo priestess cook! He wolfed the sandwich down and entered the house to grab his keys and wallet first.
    The interior was in worse shape than the sagging exterior. It smelled moldy beneath the rich scents of homemade barbecue sauce and collard greens. The wallpaper had long since yellowed or peeled in many rooms. Grandmama Toussaint smoked like a chimney and burned her magical incense to the point that the house reeked. Worn, outdated furniture, filthy drapes, the scent of cat urine …
    He paused to sneeze before snatching his belongings then leaving quickly for the backyard. Approaching the shed, he opened the door. A cloud of heavy incense engulfed him. Jayden wrinkled his nose to keep from sneezing again. He ducked beneath the short doorway.
    The three sisters, his grandmama, and two of his great-aunts were huddled around a table with a few of his cousins. Wooden shelves lined the walls, cluttered by clay jars, hanging herbs, bottles of discolored liquid – some with unidentifiable items suspended in them – and mummified pieces of animals he’d never stayed long enough to identify.
    Jayden hated this place. It reeked of death, despite the incense and cigarette smoke.
    “You ready to go, Mama?” he asked.
    The women at the table all faced him at once. Every female born in his mother’s line bore the same birthmark in the same place: a small, faint mole between their eyes. His Haitian grandmama said it was the sacred mark of Loa Loko, the voodoo god of healing and herbs from which the powerful priestesses in his maternal line received their powers of protection and healing.
    Faced with a table full of women bearing the same mark, Jayden felt a little weirded out. No part of him believed in any form of magic, but the same birthmark appearing on three generations of women struck him as unnatural.
    His grandmama’s round face lit up. Her eyes contained a wild gleam, and her grin was punctuated by three gold teeth and three white teeth. Her wide smile almost swallowed her face.
    “They said you’d come!” she exclaimed.
    He didn’t want to know who said he’d come.
    “Are you mambos or grandmama today?” he asked, only half-joking. He’d seen one of her possessions before and planned on running the next time she started.
    “Child,” she chided and stood. She was barely five feet tall and round, clothed in a purple gown with a matching headscarf. Necklaces and bracelets of bone and wooden beads clicked together with her movement. “I am always your grandmama, and I always serve the spirits. I have something for you.” Her accent was thick, her pronunciation of English words careful.
    “Grandmama Marie, I have what you gave me last time. I’m good,” he said. Recalling the fuzzy … thing she gave him last month, he tried not to cringe as she maneuvered her large body to a shelf and bent over.
    He looked at his mother expectantly. She rolled her eyes at his silent plea to hurry and put out her cigarette, leaning down for her purse.
    “Your great grandpapa was here last week,” his grandmama continued. “He came to me in a vision and warned me. There is someone in your life who will do you great ill. I prepared a spell for you, my Jayden.”
    “Oh, Jayden!” one of his aunts exclaimed.
    “A protection spell,” his youngest cousin informed him. “Grandmama chose me as her apprentice. I helped with the rite this morning.”
    “Great,” he said, scratching the back of his