CHAPTER SIX
After the ordeal with Angie’s pepper sauce, a whole day passed before Manda could drink anything hot, or taste food again. Angie apologized, but it was obvious that she took this as good news. The more damage a pepper sauce did, the better it meant it was. Sierra thought it was quite a laugh. She was in even better spirits than usual. She had floated back from Connecticut on a big white cloud. Nik’s father had loved her. His mother had been a little cool at first, but by the time they were ready to return to New York, she had come running out to invite Sierra back for a shopping trip. Just the two of them. Sierra showed Manda a little spotted vase Nik’s mother had given her. She had made it in her pottery class.
Manda was just happy to see her back in one piece. There were a few hours when she hadn’t been able to reach Sierra on her mobile, and no one had been home at Nik’s parent’s house. Manda’s imagination had galloped off with her on its back. She saw Sierra lying on the bottom of a ravine, her body twisted and broken. She had worked herself into such a frantic state, she had given herself a headache. She rarely ever got headaches. When Sierra did finally ring her back, Manda almost cried with relief. But she realized she couldn’t go on like that, worrying constantly about Sierra day after day. Counting down the days to her sister’s birthday, and jumping at every shadow, afraid it might be Dar’s ghost. If she was phasmophobic, she had a right to be. She called Angie at her restaurant and told her she wanted to go see the Obeah man as soon as possible.
“And remember, Angie, I want you to come with me. I don’t want to go alone,” Manda said.
“I will certainly try, I promise,” Angie said. She told Manda she would get Tee to call the man, and then call her back with the details. Ten minutes later, Angie rang back and said that Tee had left a message on the man’s phone. They would let Manda know as soon as they heard from him.
With that done, Manda made her weekly call to England. She liked to make sure everyone was getting on alright without her. First, she rang her mother. Myrna listed the various illnesses that had been plaguing her since Manda left, and she begged Manda to cut her trip short and come back. She needed her, and there was no one else to rely on. She even quoted the Bible, something about “Whoa to the man who’s alone…no one being there to catch him if he falls”, etc., etc. Even the pound had plunged in value in the past two weeks, and Myrna reported the news as if it was somehow connected to Manda’s departure.
Next, Manda called Aunt Beryl and begged her to go visit Myrna. Aunt Beryl said her new boyfriend Milton was keeping her too busy. Her old boyfriend, Cleavus, had hooked up with some Nigerians on an Internet scam, and had gone back to prison. Manda then called Sherrie’s number, but couldn’t reach her. Lastly, she called her father’s house. His girlfriend answered the phone and quickly announced that she and Bertram had gotten engaged. Manda hung up without speaking to her father. She went into her room and sat on the futon. She opened the top drawer of the night table and pulled out Daniel’s doll.
“Can you believe it, Daniel?” she whispered, hugging the doll to her chest. “He’s marrying that cow. He’s never going back to Mum.” She had spent the last three years hoping her father would come to his senses. But this was partly her fault. If she had been home, she might’ve been able to talk her father out of this madness. Her mother wouldn’t be able to handle this alone. She wasn’t very strong these days. Everything was falling apart and Manda had barely been gone two weeks. Her family needed her, and so did Sherrie. But Sierra needed her more, even if she didn’t know it. Manda couldn’t be in two places at once, could she?
When Sierra came home that night, Manda told her about their father’s engagement. A shadow passed over Sierra’s face.
“By the way,” she said. Have you sent pictures of your designs to Antoinette as yet? These opportunities don’t come very often, and they don’t last very long.”
“No, I haven’t. But what about Dad? Don’t you even care?” Manda asked her.
Sierra shrugged. “It’s his life,” she said. “And I suggest you get on with yours.” She headed down the hall towards her bedroom.
“It might not matter to you, but it matters to me,” she shouted after Sierra, but Sierra only closed her door behind her. At first Manda was angry, but when she calmed down, she knew her sister was right. She had enough to worry about as it was. Like saving Sierra’s life before it was too late. And wondering why she still couldn’t reach the real Daniel whenever she rang his number. What if he had gone off and done something stupid? He hadn’t been himself when he had stood in her living room that night. These things were already robbing her sleep at nights and causing her nightmares when she did manage to doze off. Adding her parents’ problems to the list certainly wouldn’t help. The only thing that was important right then was protecting Sierra from the people…or things…that wanted to hurt her. She knew if it were the other way around, Sierra would bend over backwards to help her. They had always been each other’s sturdiest armor. When they were in secondary school, more than once Sierra had stormed into the principal’s office and risked her own punishment to defend Manda after she had fought with another student. And there were many times when Manda had stood up to her mother or someone else on Sierra’s behalf. This time was no different, except the enemy wasn’t made of flesh of blood like the others had been. But she was ready for the fight, and when it was over, she would jump on a plane and return home in time to be there for Sherrie and for the rest of her family.
But if Manda had any hope that the battle might be easily won, it was Sierra herself who killed that illusion. Manda had gone to the grocer’s to pick up some ingredients for a beef stew she wanted to make. Sierra had said she was spending the night at Nik’s, and Manda decided to make herself a meal. She was glad to have a break from all the restaurant food. When she got home, she made the stew and sat down at the kitchen table to eat. She turned on the radio and listened to Sierra’s show.
It had started innocently enough. Sierra had invited listeners to call in to give their opinions on cross-cultural dating. First a woman called to say she had dated a rainbow of men, and had discovered one thing. All men sucked. She and Sierra had a good laugh about it. Next, a black man called in to say why he preferred to date Asian women, and Sierra had badgered him about his reasons until he got annoyed and hung up. Then a woman called in to say she had dumped her Jamaican boyfriend for a blond ex-Mormon guy from Utah. Now they were getting married, and her parents refused to come to the wedding. To make matters worse, her ex-boyfriend’s cousin had threatened to work Obeah on her.
“Oi, don’t believe that Obeah rubbish,” Sierra said. “That’s just backwoods Jamaican thinking.”
Manda winced.
“It might be, but he’s got me scared all the same,” the woman said. “I’ve heard about things that sound pretty real.”
“Trust me, it’s nonsense. Pure foolishness. People who follow it are a bunch of wackos. Your ex’s cousin is just hoping to scare you out of marrying your fiancé. But remember, it’s just rubbish.”
That had set off a barrage of calls from other listeners, most of whom wanted to let Sierra know they were angry about what she had said. One woman said she was the one who was talking nonsense. Sierra was in her element. She laughed at the callers and poked fun at their beliefs. The angrier they got, the more she taunted them. A man insisted Obeah was a religion and should be respected like all other religions, and Sierra told him Sistah Britain was a goddess and should be respected too. When someone else called to demand she apologize for her remarks, Sierra called them a nutter.
Manda dropped her spoon on the plate. What was Sierra trying to do? Had she lost her flipping mind? Someone had to stop her, or knowing Sierra, she would keep this up. Manda cleared away her dinner and grabbed her purse. Sierra should be coming off the air soon. She wanted to go meet her at the station, before she and Nik went off to eat.
As Manda was heading for the train, a light rain started to fall, and by the time she reached Midtown, it had started to pour. She took out her pocket-sized umbrella and opened it. When she got to the corner where Sierra’s office building stood, the wind flipped the umbrella inside out. Water drained from the umbrella, which had now become a bowl, and poured down on Manda’s head, soaking her to the scalp. She fought with it until it flipped back around, but by then three of the thin metal spokes had broken. She shoved the cheap umbrella down into a rubbish bin on the corner, alongside two others that had already suffered the same fate. Just as she let go, she felt the ring Angie had given her slip off her wet finger. She caught a glimpse of it as it slid down into the bin.
“Ah, bugger.” Manda leaned over the bin and tried to spot where it had landed. The bin was nearly full and it was hard to see past the Styrofoam food containers, soggy newspaper pages and other rubbish crammed inside. For a moment, she thought about giving up the ring for lost, but Angie wanted her to give it to Sierra for good luck. Manda had kept it herself, knowing nothing would make Sierra wear cheap jewelry. But it didn’t seem right to leave it there. She picked up a container with her thumb and forefinger and moved it aside, then pushed some more pieces of rubbish away. She worked her way gingerly towards the bottom, holding her nose with the other hand. Manda saw the ring resting on top of a discarded KFC box, but just as her fingers touched it, it slipped off the box and slid away from her. She cursed. She leaned further into the bin. Her head was practically buried in the bin now, and still she couldn’t see it.
“Manda? Is that you?” A voice said above her.
Manda pulled her head out of the bin and looked around. Sierra stood beside Nik on the sidewalk, peering at her from under the cover of a giant black umbrella.
“Is everything alright? What are you doing here?” Sierra looked almost frightened of her.
“Yeah, what’s up?” Nik added.
“Nothing. I…I dropped something in there. A ring. I was just trying to…never mind.” Manda looked at Sierra. “I came by because I need to talk to you about something.”
“Can it wait?” Nik said, glancing at his watch. “We have a dinner reservation. We’re gonna lose our table.”
“Why don’t you come along, then?” Sierra said. “We can talk at the restaurant.”
“No, no, I just need to talk to you for a minute. I promise, it’ll be short.”
“Nik, give us a minute, will ya?” Sierra said.
Nik stepped out from under the umbrella and went to stand by the building’s front doors. Manda took his spot and she and Sierra stepped aside to talk.
“Sierra, I was listening to your show today-.”
Sierra laughed. “I had no idea I’d get a reaction like that,” she said. “I couldn’t believe it. Those people were crazy. Did you hear the woman who called and said…”
“I don’t think you should talk about Obeah anymore,” Manda said. “It’s making a lot of people very angry, and I think it could be trouble.”
“Manda, don’t take it so seriously. It’s just some light fun. That’s all.”
“But that’s the problem. Those listeners are taking it seriously. I think you should just drop it, or apologize to them.”
“We get angry callers all the time. It’s nothing new.”
“Hey.” Nik called out. “I don’t want to lose this reservation. It took a week to get it already.” He started to pace before the doors.
“Just a minute.” Sierra turned back to Manda. “Listen, there’s nothing to apologize for. I haven’t done anything wrong. But let’s talk about this at home, yeah?”
“Sierra, I’m serious about this.”
“You worry too much,” Sierra said. “Why don’t you go to a film, or rent a movie or something? Lighten up a little.”
“Sierra, if you need to talk, I’ll go on and save our place,” Nik said.
“No, wait for me,” Sierra said. “Manda, I’ve got to go.” She gave Manda a quick kiss, missing her face altogether, and turned and hurried back to Nik.
“Really, Manda,” she called out. “Go have some fun. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“What’s going on with her?” Manda heard Nik ask as they walked off. Sierra said something, but Manda didn’t catch it. The rain pelted down on her head. She turned and headed back in the other direction. When she looked around, Sierra and Nik had already blended into the mass of umbrellas moving down the street.
When Manda got back home, she called Angie right away. Angie, who often listened to Sierra in the afternoons herself, said she had heard the show and she couldn’t believe Sierra’s audacity. She had even called the station several times, and when she got through, she had given Sierra a piece of her mind.
“Your sister gonna get herself in hot water,” she said to Manda. “She don’t know them people. They don’t joke. I remember this man who got in a fight with an Obeah man. Everybody tell him he was gonna be sorry, but he don’t listen. He walk around laughing and saying nothing gonna happen to him, and Manda, let me tell you it wasn’t pretty. The man go drown himself.”
“Aw, he couldn’t swim?” Manda said.
“Swim? He was in his own tub.”
“Oh. Well, Angie I really don’t know what to do. I begged Sierra to stop, but she wouldn’t listen.”
“Did you give her the ring?”
Manda slapped her forehead. “Yes, about that ring…the oddest thing happened. I leaned over a bin to toss something away, and the ring fell in and disappeared. I tried to find it, but it was buried too deep.”
“Boy, you clumsy like Tee,” Angie said. “You people would lose your own shadow if you could catch it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t fret. Sierra will need more than a ring to protect her now, all the same.”
“I don’t know. I hope she’ll get bored and stop.”
“No, Sierra is too stubborn. More likely she’ll just keep going until things get out of hand. By the way, Tee made you an appointment with that Obeah man in Brooklyn.”
“Oh, that’s great news, isn’t it?” Manda said.
But the appointment was for the upcoming Saturday, and Angie said she wouldn’t be able to leave the restaurant in time to go with Manda.
“Angie, I don’t want to go there alone,” Manda told her. “Can’t you get away for even an hour?”
“Sorry, Manda, Saturday is our busiest day. Tee needs me here, else who would cook?”
“Then can’t you reschedule it for Sunday?”
“I won’t have time on Sunday, and this man is very busy too. Tee had to beg him to squeeze you in.”
Manda tried to plead with her to reschedule the appointment for another time, but it would be more than a week before Angie would be available to go with her.
“Besides,” Angie said. “Now that Sierra’s making trouble for herself with them Obeah people, it don’t sound like you have much time to waste.”
“Angie, I don’t even know this man. Maybe there’s another way…”
“Manda, you got nothing to be afraid of. He’s not gonna hurt you.” Before she hung up, she gave Manda the address and directions to the Obeah man’s house.
Manda sat on the couch, staring at the paper in her hand. The temperature in the living room felt like it had dropped twenty degrees. The thought of going to visit this Obeah man by herself made her almost want to just forget the whole thing altogether. What was she afraid of exactly? She tried to reason it out to herself. Was it what Daniel had said about Obeah? Was she dabbling in the occult, opening a doorway that was best left locked? But was this any different from going to a priest to do an exorcism? If evil had been set on her and Sierra, then they needed the help of an expert. Someone who battled evil for a living.
As it turned out, Angie was right. Sierra was letting things get out of hand. It wasn’t long before she was receiving letters from listeners who were angry about her attacks on Obeah. Someone had even sent her a letter with bits of feathers inside the envelope. Manda begged her to stop goading Obeah followers, but Nik believed the controversy was good for the show, and he urged Sierra to milk it for all it was worth. Sierra didn’t even stop when she received another chicken feather letter at the station.
“I’ll bet it’s that Angie who’s sending them,” she said, standing over Manda in the living room a few days later. “Ah, it makes sense now. She did call the station to run her mouth.”
“Yes, but she didn’t hide who she was, so why would she send you anonymous letters? Angie would never do something like that.”
“You don’t know her very well,” Sierra said. “She’s Aunt Beryl’s daughter after all.”
“What? Sierra? She’s nothing like Aunt Beryl.”
“Of course you’d stick up for her. Now that the two of you have become bosom maddies.”
“Oh, come off it.”
“I’ve heard you whispering to her on the phone, telling her my business.”
“Well, it’s better than broadcasting it to the whole city, like you do with mine,” Manda said. “But Sierra. We’re just concerned about you.”
“Thanks, but keep your concern to yourself. And you’d better watch out, before she turns you into a lunatic just like her.” Sierra walked away.
Manda threw a cushion after her. What cheek. Here they were, trying to figure out how to save Sierra’s arse, and here she was, making them out to be a couple of nutters. How could she even think Angie would do something like that? Manda hadn’t known her for long, but if there was one thing she had gathered about Angie, it was that she was honest to a fault. Like her mother, she wasn’t one to hide her feelings about anything, even when it might have been better if she did.
Manda was sitting on the couch the next day, telling Angie about the chicken feather letters, when Sierra came up behind her and grabbed the phone.
“It’s me, Sierra,” she said, hand on hip. “Never mind the small talk. It’s you, isn’t it? You’re the one who’s sending me those letters.”
Manda heard screeching sounds coming from Angie’s end of the phone.
“Look. Don’t try to deny it.”
There was more screeching from Angie. Manda grabbed at the phone, but Sierra spun away from her.
“Because I recognize that horrible handwriting of yours. Well, you can curse all you want. But all I’m telling you is, you’d better stop it, hear? If I get one more letter at the station, I’m coming after you myself.” Sierra hung up the phone. She flipped her hair and marched out the front door.
Manda called Angie back straight away. Poor Angie was sobbing, and Manda apologized profusely to her.
“How can she treat me like that?” Angie said. “I never did that wretch nothing.”
“I know. I don’t think she really believes it’s you. She’s probably just testing you.”
“From I was born, I’ve never been accused of such a thing.”
“Please, Angie, don’t let it upset you. I’ll have a talk with her later, okay?”
“If that would mean anything,” Angie said. She blew her nose on the other end of the phone. “Manda, can you come to the restaurant on Monday? I need to tell you something.”
“I’m afraid Monday isn’t good,” Manda said. “I’ve already promised Sierra I would go to a brunch with her. Nik can’t make it, and she doesn’t want to go alone.”
“Well, this is about her, so I would think you’d want to hear it.”
Manda tried to get her to say what it was, but Angie said her break was over and customers were waiting.
“Alright, I’ll see you on Monday,” Manda said. She hung up the phone and stared out the window. Across the street, a film crew was busy unloading camera equipment from a truck and laying out the pieces before a building. From the size of the white trailer stretched out before the truck, Manda knew major celebrities would be involved. She felt a small stir of excitement, and remembered how much she and Sierra had loved going to the cinema to see films that were shot in New York. Sierra’s heart had grown fat with romantic images of the city, and it was probably the main reason she had chosen to move there, and not anywhere else. Now, one of those very films was going to be shot right there across the street from them, and Manda sat and watched the setup begin. She didn’t feel like making the long, tiring journey out to Queens Village on Monday. It was already bad enough she had to find her way alone through Brooklyn on Saturday. Sierra recently admitted it was easier for her to get on a plane and leave the country, than it was to take a train trip to the outer boroughs. Manda could see her point. Manhattan was completely self-contained, with everything they wanted only blocks away. Just as she had in London, Manda usually walked to wherever she had to go. And if she was with Sierra, it was taxis all the way. She rarely had to set foot on public transportation. But a trip to any of the other boroughs was a commitment, with a specific purpose and destination in mind.
Ah, well, it is for a good purpose, she thought to herself. My sister’s life is in danger.
On Saturday morning, Manda got up with the sun. She had spent the night flipping around in her bed, fighting to fall asleep and fighting to wake up. At least two of her nightmares had been about Obeah men. Her appointment with the one in Brooklyn was for half past two. She wandered around the flat dusting surfaces and sweeping rooms, like a zombie who had decided to spend eternity cleaning instead of eating flesh. When Sierra got up, she went for a jog, came back and showered, and then sat on the couch with her notebook open. She was writing out the invitation list for her party, but when Manda went to dust the coffee table, she quickly closed the book and put it aside. She had become very protective of her book, and Manda had to wonder what else she might have been planning in those pages.
Manda fixed them both a brunch of omelets, toast and orange juice, but Sierra barely had a bite of her eggs before she pushed aside her plate and said she was full. Nik was right. Sierra wasn’t eating enough. The healthy appetite she had had in England seemed to have disappeared. Manda looked at the DVD’s clock and saw that it was already almost one o’clock. She put away the cleaning things and went to get dressed.
“Where are you off to?” Sierra asked, when Manda came back into the living room with her bag over her shoulder.
“Um…nowhere really.”
“Why do you look so nervous?”
“Nervous? Ha. I’m not nervous.”
“Hmm. You’re off to see Angie, is that it?” Sierra asked, putting down her notebook. “Well, you don’t have to hide it. I already know the two of you have become your own little Jamaican posse. Although I can’t understand why you’re so fascinated with her.”
“For your information, I am not off to see Angie. I’m just off to Brooklyn, that’s all.”
“Brooklyn? What’s in Brooklyn?”
“People. Places. There’s more to New York than Manhattan, isn’t there?”
“If you say so,” Sierra said. “But I still think you’re up to something.”
“I’ll see you later,” Manda said. She checked that the directions were in her bag and then went out the door.
When she reached the second floor, Manda glanced towards Noah’s flat. She had been a little hasty with him the other day, when he had given her the book. It was nice of him, and she had barely said thanks. As she headed for the next set of steps, she hesitated, her hand on the railing. She wondered if he was home. She forced herself to cross the landing and knock on his door. He answered, dressed in a white t-shirt and black pajama shorts that left his long, tanned legs exposed.
“I just wanted to say that…I didn’t thank you properly for the book the other day. I practically bowled you down the stairs, and then…ha, ha.” She snapped her mouth shut. She knew she must have sounded like a lunatic.
Noah leaned against his door and crossed his arms.
“See, I was in a hurry to get somewhere, and I didn’t want to be late. I really hate to be late for…things.” Why was it so hard to look into his eyes? She gazed beyond him instead, into his back office where a computer sat idling on a desk, its screensaver displaying a series of lush landscapes. “But I’m not usually that rude. On purpose. Anyway, I see that you’re busy, and so thanks for the book. It was kind of you.”
“You’re welcome,” Noah said, smiling. “Do you want to come in? I’m about to put on some coffee.”
“No, I can’t. I mean…I’m on my way somewhere.”
“Maybe another time then?”
“Yes, maybe.” She stood awkwardly by the door for a moment, then turned to leave.
“Manda.”
“Yes?” She turned back around.
“Is everything okay?” He took her hand in his and eyed her carefully, his face full of concern.
“Pardon? Yes, of course. Everything is fine.” She gave him a genuinely fake grin, and he gave her a doubtful look in return. She felt the urge to both pull her hand away and hold his tighter at the same time.
“Okay. Well, if you need anything…or need to talk about anything…don’t be afraid. Just knock.”
Manda swallowed. How she wished she could tell him everything, beginning with the night of her wedding and ending with why she was now on her way to see an Obeah man in Brooklyn. Well, she could imagine what Daniel would’ve had to say, let alone this stranger. Noah was a stranger after all, even if he did have a way of looking at her like he could see straight through to her heart, with all its dreams and fears backlit like jewels on display. But instead all she said was “Thanks.”
Noah’s smile returned.
Manda turned to leave again. She could feel his smile still warming her back as she made her way across the landing. He didn’t see that she was smiling too. Skinning up her teeth like a fool, as Aunt Beryl would say.
The Obeah man lived in a house in Bedford Stuyvesant that was painted white on the outside. A gold cross was nailed to the door. It was the only occupied building on the block that did not have iron bars protecting its front door or windows. It sat in its spot looking as confident as a white tiger among house cats. Both of the houses on either side of his had boards nailed over their windows, and one was just a blackened shell of a house, the leftover from a past fire. Manda wondered what had caused the fire, and if the inhabitants had made it out alive.
She walked up the front steps and rapped the bronze knocker against the door. She drew in long, slow breaths as she waited. The door opened and she found herself standing before a dark-complexioned man, dressed in a floor-length white cotton robe with a white cloth wrapped around his head. His pupils were two black discs set in eyes that looked like they had yellowed with age. The Obeah man looked at least seventy-five.
He stepped aside and a woman came out of the house and slipped past Manda, her eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. She shoved something down into her purse and hurried away. Manda turned back to the man.
“Are you the…um…Obeah man?” It struck her suddenly that she didn’t even know his name.
“I am he,” the man said in a soft Jamaican patois. He gave her a kingly bow. His gaze rose all the way up from her feet to her face.
Manda took a deep breath, trying to slow her racing heart. “I have an appointment for half past two.”
He bowed again and beckoned for her to enter, and his thick gold watch slipped down his bony wrist. Business was obviously very good. Manda followed him down a long hall lit by red candles that had been fixed into four gold-toned wall sconces. He was very swift for an old man, and before she could catch up to him he had already dodged away into a room to the right. Manda entered slowly and looked around. The air smelled like the herbs on Tee’s money, only more intensely so. She sneezed twice, and he threw a “Bless you” behind him.
A round table stood in the middle of the parlor. It was covered in a red cloth, and a glass of water had been placed in the center. The Obeah man pulled out one of the two chairs that flanked the table and waited for Manda to sit down. She lowered herself into it and dropped her bag on the carpet by her leg. Along one wall was a long wooden bench that looked like it had once belonged in a church, and hanging on the wall above it was a green chalkboard with a price list written out in white chalk.
Charms$25.00+
Oils$30.00+
Wanga Doll$35.00
Basic Reading$45.00
Manda had gotten halfway down the list, when the Obeah man cleared his throat. He began to describe some of the oils he sold.
“So,” he said when he was done. “What is it you would like?”
She took a tissue from her bag and blew her nose. “A basic reading. Alright, I’ll start with that.”
“Show me your hand,” the Obeah said, sitting down across from her.
She stretched out her hand gingerly. He took it in his and stroked the middle of her palm, sending a tingling sensation through her arm. His own hands were unusually cold. He raised her hand and held it over the glass of water.
“Your duppy follow you,” he said.
His words caught Manda so off guard, it took her a while before she could say anything. “My duppy? The ghost?” she said, her voice trembling. “Then you can see her too?”
“I can sense her,” the Obeah man said, nodding. He wet the tip of his forefinger against his tongue, then made a sign with it in Manda’s hand. She gave a slight jump, as her patients often did when she pushed needles into their arms.
He leaned forward and peered intently into her right eye. Then he reached over and pulled down her bottom lid. “I see you have a mark,” he said, impressed.
“What…the ring around my eye? I’ve had it since birth.”
He nodded. “All visionaries mark-up with something. But I mus’ warn you. Don’t follow it. It mus’ follow you.”
“Don’t follow wha