Hex, Page 3

member of society now, and it would doher a lot of good. Rudi, too--Gloria considered Rudi. There was anotherdoll in the drawer, a male, and after a few seconds she put her hand inthe drawer and fished around until she had found it.

  She turned it slowly, feeling for the son, until at last she had madecontact.

  There.

  He was talking with some friends; it would not be hard. Sheconcentrated, and at the same time she heard him talking:

  "So look, here's the way I see it. We got the Cobras on our necks, wegot to get rid of them, right?"

  Someone said: "Right, Rudi."

  "So if we start a little rumble, very quiet so the cops don't figurewhat's going on, then we--"

  A silence.

  Someone said: "What's wrong, Rudi?"

  "I don't know. Something. What am I doing just standing here?"

  And someone said: "What do you mean?"

  "I mean I ought to be out getting a job, man. Earning some bread for theold lady. Got to have money, got to have a job."

  Someone said: "Hey, Rudi. Wait. What's the hurry?"

  And Rudi had gone.

  Gloria dropped the doll and closed the drawer, and sat back, smilinggently. It was wonderful to be able to help people.

  It was just wonderful.

  _Find work. Find a job._

  _Go to the employment agency._

  _Start looking for work, right now._

  _Get a job._

  _It will be nice to have a steady job._

  _Nice--_

  Somehow, Mrs. Wladek fought off the voices in her mind. It was so easyto succumb to them and to drift into the terrible things they wanted.Mrs. Wladek did not want them at all.

  A job, indeed!

  But it took effort, all the same, to concentrate on herself instead ofthe work, the job, the employment agency. It took effort to sit down ona bench in the park, near the building where the case workers were, andplan out the next step.

  A witch, certainly. The girl was a witch and she had put a hex on Mrs.Wladek, and that hex had to be removed.

  How?

  Mrs. Wladek thought first of the old woman in the store.

  Certainly a gypsy woman would be able to take off a hex. Mrs. Wladekremembered gypsies from the old country, laughing people with thestrange gift, witches themselves but always available for a price--

  The gypsy woman.

  Mrs. Wladek stood up and began to walk toward the park's exit. Sheforced her legs to move, creaking, one step at a time, thinking toherself: _The gypsy woman, the gypsy woman, the gypsy woman_--and tryingto ignore the voices in her head that went on and on:

  _It would be good to find a job._

  _Go right away to the employment agency._

  _Right away--_

  There were those who laughed--Marya Proderenska thought--and there wouldalways be those who laughed, but that did not injure her; for scoffersshe felt only a vast contempt. Had she not been shown in a dream thatthe power was hers? Had not each of her husbands, even the third who hadcontracted the fever and died with great suddenness in three weeks,admitted to her that she had a power beyond that of any normal woman? Itwas the power of vision and movement, the power of spell andincantation.

  The others called it magic, though no gypsy would call it so.

  Marya Proderenska sat quietly in the back room of the little shop andwaited. A woman would come; she knew that, and the knowledge was anotherpiece of her power, and a proof of it. Farther she could not see, but inthe cloud of the future the woman was clear.

  (What power Marya Proderenska had, a blond social worker had, too, andother people; she had never been able to clear her mind of her ownsuperstitions enough to train the power or work very effectively withit. The power was sufficient for her.)

  Marya Proderenska sighed. The power demanded its own responsibilities.She could not marry outside the clan into which she had been born. Shecould not be seen on certain days of every month. During those days manyfoods were forbidden her.

  Thus the power worked, and thus she lived.

  The woman would bring money for her, Marya knew. So she sat in the backof the shop and waited, and sighed, until the front door sighed open andMarie Wladek called: "Old woman, old woman!"

  "Do you call me?" Marya said in her proud baritone.

  "I call you, I call the gypsy woman."

  Marya stood up and smoothed her old dress over the big-boned frame allof her husbands had admired. "Then come to me," she called.

  Marie Wladek crept into the room, her eyes saucers of awe. To speak ofwitches was all very well, and a fresh-faced girl could give one fright;but here was the authority and power of witchcraft, in this woman withthe fuzz of hair on her lip and the great trumpeting voice.

  "I come for help," Mrs. Wladek said.

  "I know why you have come," Marya Proderenska said. "You have a greattrouble."

  Mrs. Wladek nodded. "I am bewitched. A witch has placed a hex upon me,and I come to you to remove it."

  There was a little silence. Then Marya Proderenska said: "The powerswill not do work without payment."

  Mrs. Wladek dug into her ancient beaded purse and found a crumpleddollar bill. She handed it over and the gypsy woman smiled and duckedher head.

  "It is enough," she said.

  Mrs. Wladek said: "Then you will help me?"

  "I will help you," the gypsy woman said. "Tell me of this curse uponyou."

  "There is a voice in my mind," Mrs. Wladek said. "The voice tellsme--even now it continues--to go to an employment agency, to acceptwork ... and the voice is not of my making."

  "Whose voice is this?" the gypsy woman said.

  "It is my own voice," Mrs. Wladek said. "The voice is my own, but I didnot tell it to speak. Inside my own head, I can hear my own voice as ifsomeone else put it there."

  "Ah," the gypsy woman said. "And who is the witch who has put this curseupon you?"

  Mrs. Wladek sighed. "At the office of the social workers, there is one,a young woman. She has done this to me."

  Marya Proderenska nodded. Her eyes closed.

  Mrs. Wladek stared at the still figure without moving for a minute. Timestretched endlessly. The room was very quiet; Mrs. Wladek heard thecontinuing voice in her mind and felt fear.

  Another minute ticked by.

  At last the gypsy woman opened her eyes. "It is a strong curse," shesaid in a distant voice. "But I have erased it for you. I have taken thehex from you. Is it not so?"

  "Taken the hex--" Mrs. Wladek shook her head. "Then why do I still hearthe voice?"

  "You still hear it?" The gypsy woman muttered under her breath. "Comeback tomorrow. We work again."

  "Tomorrow is a long time."

  The gypsy woman closed her eyes for a second. "All right," she said, andsnapped them open. "Four o'clock this afternoon."

  "I will be here."

  "It is a strong curse."

  "You will help me," Mrs. Wladek said.

  "I will help you," Marya Proderenska said.

  But, after the old woman had left, Marya Proderenska sat alone and herface was troubled. The strength of the curse--she had felt itherself--was enormous. She did not know of any magician who had suchpower.

  She listed over the members of her own clan in her mind, and becamesatisfied that none she knew was responsible. And yet, the strength ofthe curse argued real power; was it possible that a power existed withinthe city, and she did not know of it? Marya felt a cold wind on herback, the wind of fear.

  Such a power might do--anything.

  And yet it was being used to coerce one useless old woman into taking ajob!

  Marya Proderenska lay flat on the floor, her arms outstretched. Thus onemight gather the vital energies. Four o'clock was not many hoursdistant, and by four o'clock she would need all of the energy she couldsummon.

  She did not allow herself to become doubtful about the outcome.

  And yet she was afraid.

  * * * * *

  G
loria smiled understandingly at the woman who sat across the desk.

  "I understand, Mrs. Francis," she said.

  "It's not that Tom's a bad boy, you know," the woman said. "Buthe's--easily led. That's the only thing."

  "Of course," Gloria said. She looked at the middle-aged woman, wearing agray suit that did not fit her overweight frame, and a silly littlewhite hat. "I'm sure everything's going to be all right," she said.

  Mrs. Francis gave a little gasp. "Oh, I hope so," she said. "Tom doesn'tmean to cause any trouble. He just doesn't understand--"

  Gloria went over the report sheets mentally. Tom didn't mean to causeany trouble, but he had been involved in a gang war or two--nothing inthe way of Thompson sub-machine guns, of course, or mortars, just a fewpistols and zip-guns and rocks and broken bottles.

  Tom hadn't been killed yet. That was, Gloria thought sadly, only amatter of time. He hadn't killed anybody yet, either--but he'd comeclose. Tom had seen the inside of a jail or two a lot more recently thanhe'd seen the inside of a classroom.

  Tom was easily led.

  Sure.

  Well, Gloria thought, the problem was to lead him into something moreproductive and satisfying than the gangs of New York. And that didn'tseem to be too hard.

  Of course, she had very little practice as yet. The theoreticalknowledge she'd been able to dig up in college was mostly on the magicand superstition shelves of the library--and, while she got full creditin her minor, Anthropology, for the research she'd done, a great deal ofit just wasn't any practical help.

  Not if you _were_ a witch--or what passed for one.

  "You see what I mean, don't you?" Mrs. Francis said.

  "Of course I do," Gloria said, and gave the woman her most reassuringsmile. "I'm sure something can be done. Do you know where your boy isnow?"

  Mrs. Francis nodded, birdlike. "He's home now. I think he's sleeping. Heusually doesn't wake up until after noon."

  "I see." Gloria hesitated a moment. "Can you describe him for me?"

  "Describe him?"

  "That's right," Gloria said. "You see, the somatotypes have, we'vediscovered, a great influence on mental and emotional makeup."

  She didn't feel right, lying to the woman--but chances were that whatshe'd said didn't make any sense to Mrs. Francis and, in any case,Gloria could hardly tell her the real reason she wanted a description.

  It would aid in making the doll she needed.

  "He's about six feet tall," Mrs. Francis said, "but he's very thin, andsometimes I worry about that. I try to give him the best nourishment Iknow how, but he--"

  "What color is his hair?" Gloria interrupted.

  "Oh," Mrs. Francis said. "Brown. And brown eyes. Really nice eyes;they're his best feature; everybody says so."

  "Any distinguishing marks, or anything unusual about him?"

  "He has a scar now, on his left arm just below the elbow, but he gotthat in a fight with these boys--"

  "All right," Gloria said. "Thank you very much."

  "What are you going to do?" Mrs. Francis said. "You're not going to havehim arrested or anything, are you? Because he's not a bad boy, you knowthat. He's only--"

  "Easily led," Gloria finished. "Of course. There won't be any need forarrest, or for anything as drastic as that. You just go home now, anddon't worry. I'm sure everything's going to be all right."

  "I only want to help my boy," Mrs. Francis said.

  "Of course you do," Gloria said. "I want to help him, too."

  Mrs. Francis stood up and swallowed hard. "I appreciate that," she said.

  "It's my job, that's all," Gloria said, feeling unaccountably shy. Asthe woman left she thought about that embarrassment and finally decidedthat she felt she had no right to be complimented. She was doing a job;it needed to be done; that was all.

  True, she had special talents for the job--but Mrs. Francis didn't knowthat, and she hadn't made the talents anyhow, but been born with them.

  Congratulations?

  Don't be silly.

  As a matter of fact, Gloria thought, she deserved a good talking-to. Shehadn't had enough experience, and that was the simple truth. It was allvery well to work on a boy like Rudi, or another one like Tom Francis,when they didn't have any idea who you were or even that you were tryingto do something. That was easy.

  But a woman like Mrs. Wladek--

  She was suspicious from the start, and Gloria thought that perhaps sheshouldn't have done anything. But it was obvious that the woman neededhelp to become a functioning member of society.

  The only trouble was that Gloria hadn't been quite expert enough. Oh,given enough time, the command would work, and eventually become part ofthe personality. But, because Mrs. Wladek had been afraid and a littleforewarned, she'd been able to fight off the command a little.

  _Practice_, Gloria told herself, _makes perfect._ And it wasn't herfault that she couldn't do any better. Next time, she'd have a littlemore practice and she'd be able to do a clearer and more complete job.

  And, in the meantime, there was no real harm done. Mrs. Wladek wouldcome round, before long, and then everything would be all right.

  Why, after all, there was Rudi, too. And Rudi undoubtedly had a job bynow, or at least a good chance of one through an employment agency.

  There was no reason to be depressed.

  * * * * *

  Her son was waiting for her when she arrived at her home once more. Mrs.Wladek looked at the boy with relief and some suspicion. It was notnatural for Rudi to be at home during such an hour; he was out with hisfriends through the day, and this was good for a boy.

  "Ma," Rudi said, "guess what?"

  "You are in trouble," Mrs. Wladek said at once, in a heavy voice.

  "Trouble? I got no troubles, ma," Rudi said. He stood before her in thedusty living room, self-assured and proud, and it came to Mrs. Wladekall at once that her boy was a man.

  "What is it?" she demanded. "Tell me at once."

  "Sure I will. Ma," Rudi said. "I got a job. I start tomorrow. In anoffice, wrapping things. The mail room, they call it."

  Silence descended on the little room.

  "Ma," Rudi said at last. "Ma, what's wrong?"

  "Wrong?" Mrs. Wladek said. "What should be wrong? Nothing at all iswrong. You have a job, very well, you have a job."

  "You're not happy about it, Ma?"

  Mrs. Wladek gave a short bark. "Happy? Indeed I should be happy? My songoes to work, like a dog, and I should be--" She paused and gaspedsuddenly. "Why did you go to work?"

  "You mean why did I get a job, Ma?" Rudi said. "Listen, let's havesupper and we'll talk about it, huh?"

  "Supper?" Mrs. Wladek snorted. "Supper we will have when I find out whatI need to know. Not before."

  "But I'm hungry, Ma, and ... oh, all right." Rudi sat down on the oldbrown couch and sighed. "I just thought it would be a good idea to get ajob, bring some bread into the house, you know? So I went down to theagency, and they had this application waiting, and I went down and gotthe job, and I start tomorrow. That's all. Now let's eat."

  "You got the idea to have a job?" Mrs. Wladek said. "Fine. Fine. Justfine. And when did you get this idea?"

  "I don't know," Rudi said, and shrugged. "Some time. This morning,maybe. Look, what difference does it make? I thought you'd like theidea, Ma. Some more dough coming in ... you know."

  "This morning." Mrs. Wladek raised clenched fists over her head."Cossacks!" she screamed. "Monsters! Witches!"

  Lunchtime.

  Gloria looked up and smiled sweetly and distantly as Harold Meedyappeared at her desk. "Got any special place to go?" he said.

  "As a matter of fact--" she began, but he was too quick for her.

  "It's always 'as a matter of fact,'" he said. "What's the matter--yougot another boy friend or something? You don't like poor Harold? Look,Gloria, if you want to avoid me, then you go ahead and avoid me. But--"

  "It's nothing like that," Gloria said.

  "
So come on," Harold said. "Listen, I'm really a sweet guy when you getto know me. You'd like me. Sure you would."

  "I'm sure," Gloria said. "But I really do have something to take careof."

  "Can't you take care of it later?"

  She shook her head.

  "Well ... all right, if you want me to grow up all frustrated." Hegrinned at her and moved away.

  When they were all gone, and only Mr. Fredericksohn remained in hisprivate office, behind the closed door, Gloria opened a drawer of herdesk and took out a piece of modeling clay a little bigger than herfist. Working without haste, and never bothering to look up she made adoll in the shape of a tall, thin boy.

  The voodoo sects in Haiti used hair or fingernail parings from thesubject, Gloria knew; she had learned that in her college research, butshe had known about the doll long before. Hair and fingernail parings:what superstition! And it wasn't as if you really needed the doll; ifnecessary, you could get along very well without it. But it was a help;it made things easier; and why not?

  She tried to picture Tom Francis. His mother's description of him hadbeen pretty vague, but Gloria found she could locate him at his house;she turned the doll until she had the