The Spell

Something stank, and Dominic couldn’t be entirely certain it wasn’t himself. He was aware of a certain moistness beneath his jacket, but then the amber infusion quietly steaming from the teacup in front of him raised questions too, and just beyond that, the woman gently caressing her own chin wrinkles with a blunt, grimy looking finger seemed as plausible a candidate as any. In fact, looking around the dimly lit room, plants and jars and objects that may or may not have been of animal origin cluttering almost every surface available, the smell seemed inevitable, though no more appealing for it.

He had tried to turn down the tea, obviously, but it had been handed to him despite his protestations, and now he was worried that he was locked in a stand-off reminiscent of his childhood dinner times. Each time he opened his mouth that grubby finger would be thrust skyward with the commanding presence of a sergeant major, and those dark, gleaming eyes would warn him that something ill awaited him if he didn’t obey.

The witch was staring at him now.

“I wondered if…” She cut him off with a wave of her hand and continued to watch him perspire.

“Anxiety.” she said at last. It wasn’t a question. “You do not believe you are equal to the task.”

“I mean…”

“I’ll do you a charm. £62. Lasts one year.”

Dominic had expected it to be more, but then it really was only about the new job. It was a lot more responsibility. Decision making and so on. Maybe it would cost more if it covered anxiety about his sex life or a fear of dying too. He fished for his wallet in his trouser pocket.

“You carry that wallet everywhere?”

“Mostly, yes.”

“Okay.”

She took the money and shuffled off through a brocade curtain he hadn’t noticed before. He heard a chanting begin, some ancient language tumbling in rhythmic waves, while a glow seeped under the heavy fabric, and he might have left, but it was cash up front, and besides, the woman was back before he could think it through.

“Put this in your wallet, open it only if you have to. It’s a single use charm but it’ll keep a year unopened.”

That accounts for the price, he thought, and slid the proffered envelope behind his gym membership card where it would not be disturbed.

His job WAS hard, there was no denying it. He’d always done what he was told, and suddenly he was the man in charge. He would never have criticised the managers so much if he had realised what they were juggling! In October, a month after the weird fever dream that had been his visit to the witch, an inspection found an equipment fault that put a stop to work for 48 hours, on the same day as the toilets backed up and flooded. Dominic remembered the charm then, and thought he might have used it, but he didn’t much fancy going back so soon to top it up, or whatever you did with a charm. Instead, after a bit of a search, he found a contractor for both jobs even though he had to pay a premium for an emergency callout.

Then in November, seven of his staff came down with flu. Dominic, certain the business would fail on his watch, was about to use the charm when it occurred to him to ring around and see if any retired staff wanted a few days work. So close to Christmas, it was surprising how many people were keen to pick up a shift or two.

In January a fight broke out in the break room and the internet went down, then in February a supply issue threatened to topple them, and through the end of year accounting in March, Dominic began to wonder how little sleep was survivable. But he did survive, and at each disaster, he found a way through and saved the charm for something worse, until come Halloween, he realised he had let it go off. Expire. Whatever charms do.

Dominic found the envelope, browned at the upward edge, but still unopened behind the gym card. It had been a tough day, and two experienced staff had threatened to walk. He had listened to their concerns and asked them to give him until Monday to find a compromise he had not yet been able to devise. A shortcut would clear his weekend nicely, and given he was about to throw it away anyway, Dominic wondered whether the charm might still have any power in it. There was no harm in finding out now.

The envelope released a faded redolence of that ungodly exchange, and Dominic wrinkled his nose as he pulled out the folded page. Opening it, he remembered the chanting, that strange, hypnotic language, and wondered whether he would even be able to read what was written. But he need not have worried. A smile pulled at his lips as he cast his eyes over the page. It was pure white, unmarked, and worth every penny he paid.