Blue Bottle Tree

by Beaird Glover

  “I could hurt you now, but she’s not ready for that. It might incite sympathy, which I am dispelling …forthwith.” He blew dust from his hoof. “This…” he turned the vial upside down, “…is between you and her. Just the thing to bring a fight: dirt dauber’s nest and gunpowder, a little of my own dried excreta, as the Latins used to say. You will clash over me, and she will never care for you again.”

  “My grandmother knows stronger stuff than that. Much stronger.”

  “I am a bokor, you impudent fool. And I think Marie has lost her touch. That little love mojo she gave Penny didn’t have the juice, did it? She was supposed to fall for you, but she didn’t. And she won’t. She knows too much about you now. And Seven, you’re just not a very winning guy.”

  Penny came harrumphing up the hill now, drawn to quarrel with me just like the potion was supposed to make her do. Hoof turned up his nose and whistled, leaving her to it.

  “What’s wrong with you?” she asked.

  “I don’t know what he told you, Penny, but it’s bullshit. That guy is an asshole.”

  “He told me you were throwing rocks and acorns at my window last night.”

  “He’s lying!”

  “That’s crazy, Seven. Are you stalking me? What’s wrong with you?”

  “I didn’t do that. I guess he told you he got your clarinet back from Marie LaVey? Right? He didn’t. I did. I got it from Marie LaVey because she’s my grandmother and she had no intention of keeping it. You were right, it wasn’t payment. So, okay, Penny. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. And if you don’t believe me, let’s go. Let’s go there now.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

  “Come on, Penny. He’s lying. I can prove it. I’ve never done anything mean to you.”

  “Your grandmother!” She was yelling.

  “Yes, she’s my grandmother. So what?”

  “She gave me this.” Penny held up her shirt, finally showing me what this whole abdominal distress thing was about. She had a red patch above her navel, and a circle around it of normal skin, then another wide pink circle around that. It looked like an archery target.

  “I promise you, Penny. My grandmother did not give you that. You should see a doctor.” She dropped the shirt back down. “I even know someone. My mother used to work with him. It’s a physician assistant at the urgent care clinic. He’s a good guy. He can probably tell you exactly what it is and give you some medicine for it.”

  “Victor said it’s Marie LaVey’s eye on me.”

  “Really, Penny? Think about it. Does that even make sense? That guy’s crazy. He digs up dirt from the graveyard and makes crazy potions with it. He thinks he’s Baron Samedi, just like Mad Dog told us. He’s crazy. He was sprinkling some nasty stuff between us just now, to make us have a fight. And he scattered some other stuff around your house yesterday, to make you confused.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I saw him.”

  “You were watching me! I don’t ever want to talk to you again. Don’t come to my house. Don’t approach me. Don’t even speak. Leave me alone, or I will tell Victor. And he’ll beat the shit out of you.”

  “I was bringing your clarinet back to you when he and Mad Dog ganged up on me. They took it from me. He’s a liar.”

  “You’re a liar!”

  “Come with me and I’ll prove it. Come on. My mom used to be a nurse. Maybe she’ll know about that rash.” Penny watched Victor, who was at the bottom of the hill with Mad Dog, revving up his hot little sports car.

  She was mad but she followed me. I did not really expect her to, but I must have sounded convincing.

  I could hear my mom before we opened the door. It was exactly what I hoped would not happen. As we walked past the willow, Penny turned a blue bottle upside down, daring the spirit to come out. Oh, Penny, such a bad idea. She smirked like she was above it all.

  Inside, my mother screamed. She was possessed again. This happened sometimes. Guidé had mounted her. Penny’s jaw dropped open and she looked scared to death. I guided her into the room. In Voodoo, they think of it as a spirit mounting a horse. In this case, the person is the horse and the spirit takes over. When the spirit leaves, the person never remembers anything. “Tell my horse…” Guidé yelled, “that she’s a lazy sack of shit!” This Guidé is a particularly cruel spirit, and ruthlessly honest. Guidé had taken control, was making my mother dance and contort, bending her knees to the ground and coming up in a gravity-defying pirouette, then shaking, thrusting, wiggling every which way. If it were winter, she would grab a burning log from the fireplace and chew off glowing embers, spitting sparks all over the room. Quite a thing to see, and it never left her with burns.

  If you asked anyone in Bellin, they would say stuff like that isn’t real, but I’ve got scars from sparks that she’s spit on me. That part is real. You cannot make that up. And she drinks this concoction of rum and cayenne pepper, like a whole bottle of cayenne pepper. She washes her face in it. A faker couldn’t rub hot peppers in their eyes like that. It’s just not possible.

  My grandmother was nodding and listening calmly, conversing with the loa, the god Guidé. “Your horse is cursed, Guidé. You know that.”

  “She needs to get her job back. She needs to get out of the house. She needs to get a life!”

  “Yes, Guidé.”

  Guidé, through my mother, turned her attention to Penny. “Oh, and look here! Here she is again! Is Seven not good enough for you, Penny Langston? Why did you come here? I heard you coming. Playing that song. Only to leave your clarinet and cause trouble? Speak!”

  Penny stammered, “I didn’t mean to.”

  “You gave the mojo hand to Victor, that aberration! And God saw the earth, and behold, it was corrupt, for all flesh had corrupted their way on the earth. You know what that is? Genesis 6:12. You know what that means, Penny Langston? It means he’s a beast! And I’m sure you don’t know this, but he’s the seventh generation of a goat fucker!”

  “Guidé!” my grandmother interrupted.

  Guidé fell to the floor and writhed. “Goat fucker! Goat fucker! Goat fucker!” She howled with laughter and slithered, propelling herself with feet against the sofa, then against a chair, then clawed her way up Penny’s legs. Penny looked to me for help but there was nothing I could do.

  Guidé grabbed her abdomen where the lesion was. Penny shrieked. “Eye of Marie LaVey, is it?” Guidé succumbed to another spell of laughter. “Tick bite, girl. You been bit by a tick. Not a horseshoe nail! Not a curse. Tick! Tick bite!” She gathered her thoughts, her eyes scanned the room. “Guidé is a physician, girl!” She strutted, pulled up Penny’s shirt and touched the outer ring of erythema. “Borrelia burgdorferi! Lyme disease. Transmitted through a tick. Humph! In another week, you’re going to get heart block, and twitches. Bell’s Palsy. You remember getting a tick bite about a week ago? In several months your joints will hurt, you’ll have memory loss and difficulty concentrating. Then you’ll die.”

  “I did have a tick on me,” she whispered. Penny studied the ring on her abdomen, breathing hard and her waist contracting under it. The authority in Guidé’s voice left no room for uncertainty. “What can I do?”

  “Now you want help? Some magic potion? Another mojo bag that you’ll give away? Again?”

  Penny nodded, hesitantly.

  “Well, in this case,” Guidé said, “those things don’t work. In this case, you go to the urgent care, show the PA what you’ve got, and he’ll give you a prescription for doxycycline. And your problem will be solved. Well, at least one problem will.”

  It seemed so obvious now. Everyone had heard of Lyme disease. I had never actually seen a target lesion before, but this is what they were supposed to look like.

  Done with Penny now, Guidé sauntered toward me. Catching some vision from the spirit world or having a moment of clairvoyance, she said, “Oh, Seven, no!” Her eyes bugged out and she stared through me.
She was seeing the future or whatever gods see. She reached out and grabbed my head, pulled it close to her, hugged me, and cried. “Oh, Seven, no. It’s too late. He’s already there…”

  “Who’s there? Where?”

  She collapsed on the floor, convulsing. This was how her spells of possession usually ended—in a seizure. If you’ve never seen a person seizing, it’s terrifying. The person looks like they are actually going to die. The uncontrolled spasms and jerking, all tensed up and completely out of control, eyes rolled back, out of their mind. It’s awful. But fortunately, they don’t usually last long. My grandmother and I turned her over on her side. Then it was over and she fell into a deep sleep. All her muscles relaxed at once. A few minutes later she opened her eyes, but of course she did not remember.

  Penny was so freaked out she ran away. I found out later that she did go to the urgent care and got a prescription for doxycycline. Her mysterious Eye of Marie soon vanished.

  11 Not Just A Narcissistic Guy

  How dare he bring his tart to me. With a lost clarinet ruse that he created. Marie LaVey is behind this—drawing me out, pressing my hand. For their rudeness I will keep the girl. As I make my way up to the cave, it is a pity I could not trust Rickey with this. How could he fail to catch a blind fish? He could. He could forget. I will not touch the bones.

  Midsummer’s Eve is soon approaching and my twentieth birthday before it. This year is more special than most. Seven LaVey will be mine by then. It will be over. I will of course live up to my name. But more than Victorious, I will destroy him. I will take my rightful place on Midsummer’s Eve. They owe me. They have always owed me that. They have owed me since I was born and they owe six generations back. Seven LaVey’s grandmother told mine she would not train him. She would not train Seven, the boy. They agreed to no more suffering. But I did not give my consent. Once they have seen my power, no LaVey will ever raise an eye to mine again. Seven will be the last. I see he’s burning black candles here for a slow death, and red ones for an accident. But he knows nothing of maleficia. He is not burning candles on me.

  Seven LaVey must suffer. My power is great and his is nothing. He has never laid a trick. Only his grandmother has power in their family, and she would be formidable if she were not a merciful fool. I will destroy the weak before engaging her. And when I have shown my strength, Marie LaVey will crown me and the curse will be rescinded. My hoof will shed and a hand will emerge beneath it. I long for Midsummer’s Eve. I will be hailed the Voodoo King.

  As I was engaged in this reverie, my guard fell. I felt prying eyes upon me, someone watching from afar. Someone saw me in this cave. Only for a second. One of their loas had a vision but I sense she lost it soon. Nothing will come of nearly knowing. This dank cave disgusts me. It reeks of his boyish smell. One puffer fish or shall I take two? Two of course, though one will do. Seven does not even know, urchin that he is. These fish, placed in a cave centuries ago and somehow still alive. They are no normal fish. They are here for this. They were here for him to use, but little does he know.

  My father said this day would come, and his, and his before him. Seven generations back, the curse of Marie Laveau. The one born with a hoof. And so it is. But she did not know the strength we would gain, the lessons we would learn. She believed the hoof would be my cross but I have used it as a tool, an evolutionary gain!

  Two of the tiniest puffer fish, scooped and poured into this bottle, and now to my basement room. I have my bufo toad and foxglove flower. Tetrodotoxin from the fish is the final thing. He envies me, I know. I saw his narrowed eyes as the Langston girl chose me. I could squeeze her heart in my hand. She will come when I hint that I will have her. She will be my second toy. I will show her what he has become, when she needs reminding of who I am. I will call her to my birthday party. My twentieth! Seven will be locked-in by then. Penny Langston will stay later than the rest. She will have my special invitation. She will not resist.

  I will tell her when it suits me. Tetrodotoxin, I will say—from the tiny livers of puffer fish, the most powerful neurotoxin known to man. More so than cyanide. More so than strychnine. Half a drop is enough. Japanese chefs must be certified to cut sushi from puffer fish because the patrons’ hearts may stop beating. They may stop breathing, they could be so nearly dead. A little gives the tongue a tingle. A little more is death. They passed a law in Japan, that a person known to have eaten puffer fish must be laid out for three days, because they might not really be gone. Too many have risen from their caskets, too many came back from the grave.

  Voodoos in Haiti know it too. My grandfather had those powers. Darker, deeper and more penetrating than a gris-gris bag or a spell with some saint’s blessing. What we use is so much more than that.

  I bathe in red light in my basement room. The bufo toad can kill a dog, but for humans it merely irritates the skin. I smear the toxic parotid gland of this bufo toad—milky white toxin—on wax paper to dry.

  I hear Penny Langston’s mouse voice rationalizing, saying she was taught to love. Love one another is the supreme law, is it not? But Penny, what power made it so? I hate my enemies as you well should. If I loved them, it would place me at their mercy. Love them when they have done this to me? Love my enemies? No. I hunt them down like beasts. She will know me then. She will never leave.

  Where is my jester? His failure to obey sickens me. An outrage that he should defy me, a tardy son. He will be punished for this. I have called him here to help me, and five minutes have passed without him yet lapping at my ear. Mad Dog indeed.

  And so, I pulverize the purple foxglove flowers. I will explain this all to Penny Langston in good time. She will want to know. And I may give her Seven, when she is ready for a slave. But, dear Penny, the foxglove is tricky, with a narrow therapeutic range. Like the toxin from the fish, a little does the devil’s work. But a grain more, and he would die. Then we wouldn’t have our game.

  Such a dull girl, probably never had a passion, but we will correct that. I will give her a taste of foxglove, let her see as van Gogh did. Starry, starry night. Doctors believed foxglove could diminish his seizures and they gave Vincent more than enough. The side effects showed every lumination as a pulsing halo, a nightmare he preserved rather than escaped.

  She will want more foxglove. I will ply her with absinthe. No, Penny dear. Not too much. Yes, you will be allowed to serve.

  Now I need a bar of soap. A sprinkle of this. A little more. I rub it in and it is ready. It is time for me to win.

  12 My Soul? Dude, I’m Not Even Religious

  Penny stayed away from me after that. It was not like she was angry. It was worse. She was disappointed. Disgusted. She shunned me.

  I had come to enjoy having her there, down by her tree, providing me with a little soundtrack at the cave. Albeit not the best music in the world, but her heart was in it. She worked so hard to get it right.

  Once we rode back from a football game together. It was a middle seat on the bus, and I guess it was the only one available. Otherwise, why would Penny Longstocking have sat by me? She had plenty of friends, so I’m sure there was no shortage of jabbering clarinet players that she could have sat by. But she did not. She plopped down by me and offered up a little chitchat. This was last fall. About halfway back to Bellin, the bus was all dark and everyone was quiet. She laid her head on my shoulder like she was sleepy and I let her lean into me. After a little while she raised her head and let me give her a kiss, but it wasn’t a long one. Then we were going through a town with streetlights. She sank down and put her knees up against the back of the seat in front of us. She started talking about a guy she liked.

  It’s seems like forever since she’s been to her tree. She and Hoof must be spending time together. And Velvet. How that works is beyond me.

  So you can imagine my surprise one evening, after I had helped my grandmother with the dishes, when there was Hoof. Knocking at the door and holding a blue bottle. “This fell off your tree,” he said. “I figured you�
�d want to put it back.”

  “Oh yes,” my grandmother said and she snatched it from him, scurried out to the tree to place it where it was meant to be. She had to talk to it and the spirits, walk around the tree, and she made a concoction that she sprinkled.

  My mother was in her own room with the door closed, leaving me uncomfortably with Hoof. “I’ve got something for you,” he said.

  “Great, Victor. Whatever it is, no thanks.”

  “You and Penny aren’t as close as you used to be, are you?”

  “I think you know we’re not,” I said. Having the enemy in my house made me shaky. Surely my grandmother had foreseen this and put some potion down to keep our enemies out. Evidently it did not affect him, because he had walked right in, sat down, and made himself at home.

  “I’ve decided to let her go,” he said wistfully, tapping his hoof against the kitchen table. “She has displeased me. I thought she was a worthy challenge to corrupt, but now I’ve grown bored with her. I will lay a trick that leads her back to you.”

  “Really? You’re going to make Penny Longstocking like me? Ha!”

  “So, I’m doing you a favor. I have something for you. Something that will turn her attention back to you. That’s what you want, isn’t it? You want Penny Langston to love you.”

  My heart swelled. Of course that’s what I wanted, but why would Hoof do this? He had never done anything nice for me. I don’t believe he had ever done anything nice for anyone. Even Mad Dog was coming back around since Victor had been neglecting him. “What do you want?”

  “Well, I admire you for getting right to it. Of course, there has to be a trade. Do you have anything worth trading? Something as valuable as Penny Langston?”

  “You don’t own her. You’re full of shit, Hoof. I’m not interested.” My grandmother was outside, chanting in Creole. Hoof perked up his ears, which were slightly pointed at the tops. I had never noticed this before. Not only did he have the hairy leg of an animal growing from his elbow, but his ears were pointed too. What a freak.