The Mesmerist(56)

He balled up the hankie and put it back in his pocket. “Ain’t nothing for you to worry about.” He let out another breath and wiped his face with the back of his hand. “You better get yourself home for supper.”

I’d never seen Cousin Zeke have a conniption before, but that’s what it looked like. Having a conniption is when someone gets all jumpy, if you didn’t know. He gave me a little half smile and reached in a jar for some Squirrel Nut Zippers.

“Here,” he said. “Take some of these and have them after supper.”

I held out my hand.

“And don’t eat them on the way home. You hear?”

“Yes sir,” I said.

I took the candy and stuffed it in my pocket.

On the way home, I wondered about the strange man and what he was looking for. I couldn’t even remember the words he’d said. He walked funny too, like a big old bug. I’d seen a hat like the one he was wearing on a preacher man one time. But this stranger sure didn’t look like no preacher. We knew everybody in town, and he wasn’t one of them. I put him out of my mind and made my way on home. By the time I got there, I’d eaten all the Squirrel Nut Zippers.



“You been eating Zeke’s candy, boy? What’d I say about eating all that sugar before supper?” Mama Frances scolded me with a shake of her head.

I stared at the food on my plate: big fat butter beans, a piece of bread, and a pork chop fried up in bacon fat. My stomach twisted.

“I only had a couple,” I said.

“Mm, hmm,” she said, smirking. “Boy, you better eat that food. Every bite.”

She then proceeded to sit down and watch me clean my plate. It was good, but I felt my stomach getting bigger with every bite. By the time I was done, the sun was going down and I heard some night birds whistling.

Upstairs, I flopped down on the bed. My stomach hurt, like someone was churning up my insides with a big old spoon. I didn’t remember falling asleep, but when I did, I had a dream. It was about that man from Miss Carter’s store. Little dust devils swirled behind him as he shuffled down the street. He stood in front of me and opened up his cloak. I looked inside and saw the dried foot of a squirrel, a heart in a glass box, a bundle of twigs tied together with string, and a little bottle of hot pepper juice with a cork stopper. The man’s eyes blazed with two red flames. “Mandragore,” he said. A few long hairs poked out of his wide nostrils and his breath was bad. “The One That Did the Deed.”

And that’s when everything went black.