And the Hits Just Keep on Comin'

The old man set down the sundried bones on the small stone altar.

He pounded the worn and battered mallet down upon them in a controlled rage and didn't stop until nothing but dust remained. "With these bones, I now do crush!"

"There has been unfairness done to me... I summon the elements... I invoke them... I conjure them to do my bidding!" He chanted in his native tongue as he placed the photo of a man in the center of the bone dust circle. Then, reaching into the satchel again, he retrieved a bound locket of hair. "I call upon the Ancient Ones from the great abyss to do my bidding!" On top of the photograph, he placed the hair, before grabbing one of the candles, letting the wax drip to seal the pieces into one effigy.

Behind him, a young boy rang a bell three times.

The old man pulled a crude blade from the floor beside him and sliced his left palm open. With the blood dripping from his wound, he extinguished the four flames around the sigil while chanting. "The four watchtowers shall lay their eyes and minds... there shall be guilt and fear and bad blood... there shall be submission and no pity." Each candle sizzled, releasing their final plume after he read each line.

"Bones of anger, bones to dust, full of fury, revenge is just... I scatter these bones, these bones of rage... take thine enemy, bring him pain... I see thine enemy before me now... I bind him, crush him, bring him down," the old man recited while dumping the remains of the dust onto the effigy. "With these bones I have crushed, make thine enemy turn to dust... torment, fire, out of control... With this hex I curse your soul."

He raised his bleeding hand over the pile, letting the blood flow freely to mix with the dust to create a ruddy sludge. In a sudden blaze, the candles reignited, casting dancing shadows over the room. "I point the threefold law against thee... against thee it shall be... threefold, a hundredfold, is the cost for my anger and pain. Thou shalt be blinded by the fear, blinded by the pain, blinded by me... bound by me... cursed by me... So mote it be!"

The candles flickered out and the room fell completely silent and still.

***

"What the hell are you talking about? I'm the epitome of perfect health!"

"Are you absolutely sure about that, Mr. Wright?"

"Of course I'm sure. Healthy mind, healthy body. And please don't call me Mr. Wright. Every time you do that I think my father's in the room."

"Very well, Jacob. You've always been our best asset, yet... you seem... off lately."

"Bull! I'm on the top of my game," Jacob blurted before taking a sip of his drink.

"Tell that to our Haitian clients. They are none too pleased with us at the moment."

"Yes, you are probably right. Apparently shit does happen. Please realize that your actions, whether just or not, have deadly repercussions in our industry. The quality of your work is the unseen face of this organization. Your finesse, as you put it, is an equally important part of our business model."

"With all due respect, spare me the lecture, alright? Do you have another job for me or not?"

"Of course we do. It's a two for one for a new client. It's yours as long as you don't plan on mucking this one up as well."

"Like I said, chief. Top of my game."

***

The "buy-one-get-one-free" gimmick usually didn't pay well in this line of work.