Warlock for Hire

Casting spells is not just what warlocks “do”—it’s what they do for money, and if you’re good the opportunities can be lucrative. Anyone looking for a shortcut to success, or influence with the right people, or a witchcraft “hit man” to take somebody out would call on me. If the price was right and the job appealed to me, I took it. One day I ran into a friend of mine named Big John. Big asked me for help in finding him a job because he knew how strong my powers were. I was the real thing, a Palero Tata , and you couldn’t get any higher in the occult. Naturally the spell worked: Big landed the job of his dreams, but at a price—his life would be indebted to the demonic spirits that now controlled his life.

Big and I had a lot in common: fast cars, beautiful women, smooth liquor, and noisy clubs. Every once in a while when I went to the club in my neighborhood, I would run into him. The next time I saw Big he approached me about a favor for a friend, a young girl named Courtney who was in trouble. He kept pestering me to help this girl, and each time he did I told him no. But he persisted, saying she would pay me a lot of money for my services.

I laughed at him. “Do I look like I need money?”

I managed to stay away from Big John for a while because I really didn’t want to help this Courtney girl. But two months later I ran into him again with the same request. I was sick of hearing it, so I attended a demonic feast where many mediums were possessed, and there I took the opportunity

to ask for advice. I asked a demon spirit what he thought about me helping Courtney. The spirit told me not to hold back on her or anyone else who wanted help because it would make all the demons in my life happy. A few days later I caught up with Big John and told him I would help his lady friend.

He gave me Courtney’s number, so I called her up at work and arranged for her to have a reading done at my place. “Come to my house with Big John at 8 p.m.,” I said. Since I was dealing with a total stranger, I had to know first what kind of favor she wanted and why.

The night of the reading, Big showed up at my door with Courtney. I ushered them into the living room, and Courtney handed me a large paper bag. I opened it to inspect what was inside. Good. Everything I had instructed her to bring was there: the candles, the liquor, along with twenty-one dollars and twenty-one cents. I told them to sit and relax while I fetched some cold soda from the kitchen. While they waited, I went into my closet, closed the door, and chanted over the cauldron, blowing cigar smoke into the cast-iron pot until two high-ranking demons showed up. The cauldron, or Jewel, is a cast-iron pot weighing over a hundred pounds with the devil’s face engraved on it. It is an important part of witchcraft, a place to meet with the devil and his demons, a place of pure evil that grips you with fear from head to toe. It is the devil-spot where the supernatural meets the natural to induce powers beyond human comprehension and evil that can be felt and touched. You can use it to kill, steal, and destroy those who get in your way. I was a hit man in the supernatural who could take out you and your family or anyone else I was hired to destroy. How can you stop something this evil and unseen when it is sent to attack you and destroy your life? That is the purpose of the cauldron, and I was one of the best at using this demonic tool to accomplish hell on earth.

I could feel the demons’ presence and I knew who they were. They introduced themselves in my spirit. A few minutes later I was transformed into someone other than me, possessed with one of the demons. Although possessed, I was very conscious of what needed to be accomplished. Now it was time to begin Courtney’s reading. But everything had to go right. It was a very sacred moment.

Back in the living room, Courtney sat across from me at the table. Everything was set. Now would come the interrogation.

“Whatever I ask, I want you to answer yes or no. No explanations or stories. Understand?” That was the first question I threw at her. It was a test.

“Yes,” she said.

I looked her straight in the eye and asked her the next question.

“I know that you came from a broken home, and you’ve been abused. Yes or no?” “Yes.”

So far she was telling the truth.

“You also have a boyfriend, and he’s physically abused you. And you had two abortions and one miscarriage.” Her answer had to be yes.

“Yes.”

As the reading went on, the demonic symbols I had drawn on the floor prior to the reading looked as if they were on fire.

“I know you were fired from your job.” “Yes,” she said.

“A sneaker store?” “Yes.”

“I know you stole from there.”

Courtney went silent. “No . . . no . . .”

The demons told me to stop the reading.

I banged my first on the table. “You’re a liar! Get out, and don’t you ever come back.” Courtney began crying out loud.

Big John looked shocked at what took place. I answered before he could even ask the question. “This piece of trash was trying to deceive me.”

Courtney spoke up. “The reason I lied was because I wanted to find out if you were the real

thing.”

“You want to see the real thing?” I said. “Okay, I’ll prove it. You stole $20,000 from your

boss, and he’s taking you to court to put you in jail.”

Courtney started crying again. “It was my boyfriend. He said he’d leave me if I didn’t take care of him.”

“You’re supporting this low-life, aren’t you?” I asked her. She didn’t have to tell me how every man who had come into her life treated her the same way.

“I’ve been to plenty of tarot readers,” Courtney said. “All phonies. But never have I met anyone like you.”

I told Courtney to leave because I didn’t deal with liars. But she pleaded with me to help her get out of trouble. That’s when a demon whispered to me: Tell her on the next visit, she can make a contract with us.

Four nights later she came over to my place with Big John as witness to initiate the witchcraft ritual. She brought all the ingredients, a recipe from hell to destroy her enemies who were accusing her. This was to be a very serious meeting. Foolishness was punishable by death.

Courtney agreed to do whatever the demons wanted. If she was convicted in a court of law, she would face five years in prison and a $20,000 fine to make up for her employer’s losses in stolen cash and merchandise. The demons promised that if she kept her end of the contract, there was no need to worry.

The first step to Courtney’s acquittal required a spiritual cleansing. This was not an initiation ceremony to induct her into the religion but rather a ritual used to get people out of situations they were guilty of. The atmosphere was thick. Even the roosters felt the fear of what was going to happen next—they were about to be beheaded, their feet hacked off, and their blood poured into the prepared cauldron as an offering to strengthen the agreement in Courtney’s contract for an acquittal.

As Big and Courtney were leaving the apartment, I assured her that her accusers would experience hell itself. I was going to punish them like they’d never been punished before. Three days later, Courtney went to court. That morning the judge was in a foul mood. The top prosecutor would be coming in late. Actually, he wouldn’t be coming in at all. A bad car accident had landed him in the hospital, and he was the stand-in for the first attorney, who had mysteriously gotten ill. Now a pair of backup lawyers would have to take the place of the one hospitalized. And as soon as they arrived, the circus began. They just couldn’t get their facts together, and because of that they disagreed with each other, and they were on the same team.

Toward the end of the grueling trial, when the frustrated judge shouted at both opposing lawyers for arguing with him and for babbling confusing nonsense, he finally summoned the jurors into the jury room to deliberate.

A short time later, everyone shuffled out of the room and back to the jury box. They had

reached a decision.

With the slam of the gavel, the judge made the announcement: The case was dropped and all charges against Courtney were dismissed. Although the defending lawyer wore a big smile, I wore a bigger one. How easily deceived they all were. That day, Courtney and I thought we were winners.

With the trial over, Courtney eventually became my goddaughter in the religion and resumed her life. But she would never get to enjoy it. Now that she had been introduced to witchcraft, there was a price to pay. Her life was no longer hers, to do with as she wanted. She belonged to the demons she had dared to seek help from. Although Courtney never spent a day in jail for what she did, her real prison sentence was just beginning. She would be a victim, owned by the spirits of espiritismo, Santeria, and Palo Mayombe for life.

Date: 2015-01-11; view: 1423