Work at the Crossroads

The command hung in the air, sharp and absolute: "Go get my epo."

Eddie didn't hesitate. The fear from the Odu was still rattling in his bones, but Mama Sapphire's focus was a grounding rod. He walked into her kitchen and apothecary. Jars of herbs, roots, and powders lined the shelves, labeled in elegant script. Bundles of dried hyssop and rue hung from a rack, and the counters were a working space of mortars, pestles, and glass bottles.

In the corner by the back door, as is proper, was Esu's shrine. It wasn't a throne like Oshun's. It was a simple, consecrated clay dish on the floor, holding a heavy, cement head studded with cowrie shells for its eyes, nose, and mouth. It felt ancient, mischievous, and powerful, its energy the complete opposite of Oshun's warm, golden hum. This was the raw, electric static of the Crossroads.

Mama Sapphire was already there, kneeling on a small reed mat. She had the epo (red palm oil) in a small gourd bowl, along with a bottle of gin, a dish of toasted corn, and a small, smoked fish. Beside her, held firmly in her left hand, was a small, perfectly black rooster. It was utterly silent, its eyes bright and aware.

"Kneel," she said.

Eddie knelt opposite her, the Esu head between them.

"This is your fight, mijo," Mama Sapphire said, her voice the low, formal tone of a priestess at work. "The sata is on you. So you will feed him. But I will call him. Pay attention."

She took a capful of gin, held it in her mouth, and with a sharp psssht, sprayed a fine mist over the Esu head, the alcohol evaporating almost instantly, the sharp scent cutting the air. She did this three times.

"Esu, Esu Odara, Esu Laroye!" she began, her voice a powerful chant. "I, your mother, call you! Iba Esu! We are here at the crossroads, and the wind of Osa Meji is blowing! A sorcerer, an Oṣó, has sent his filth to this house, to my son. He has sent Oju Aimo, the evil eye, to hunt him."

She dipped her finger in the epo and painted a thick, red-gold stripe of palm oil from Esu's forehead down over his cowrie-shell mouth. "Esu, you are the one who eats ebo first! You are the one who holds the gate! We feed you epo so you will not be angry! We feed you so you will work for us!"

She took the rooster and held it out, its feet toward Eddie. "Take him. This is your offering. This is the life that will stand in for your own. Tell him what you want."

Eddie took the bird. It was warm and surprisingly heavy. He held it firmly, its body pressed against his chest for a moment, and then held it over the Esu head. He closed his eyes, the fear replaced with a cold, hard focus.

"Esu," he said, his voice low and steady. "I give you this life. I ask you to take the sata of Osa Meji off of me. Take this evil eye, this Oju Aimo, and blind it. Take the filth the 'GOAT' sent to my door and send it back. Eat this ebo and fight for me. Àṣẹ."

Eddie efficiently and humanely decapitated the rooster and held it upside down by its legs over the shrine. A torrent of hot, red blood poured forth, covering the Esu head, mixing with the red palm oil, flowing over the cowrie eyes and mouth, and pooling in the clay dish. The bird’s body fluttered as its àṣẹ was released. The room filled with the thick, metallic, and earthy smell of life, gin, and palm oil.

Eddie held the bird until the last drop fell, then respectfully laid its body on the mat to the right of the shrine. The work was done.

"Good," Mama Sapphire said, her voice still in its ritual monotone. She took a small cloth, wiped her hands, and then reached into her opon bag. She pulled out an obi—a four-lobed kola nut.

"The ebo is given," she said. "Now we ask if it is accepted."

She split the kola nut into its four natural valves. She held them in her cupped hands, her eyes closed, and whispered a prayer to the obi, asking it to speak the truth.

"Esu, did you accept this ebo? Is the sata turned? Is your son, Eddie, protected? Speak to us."

She tossed the four kola valves onto the mat in front of the Esu head. They scattered and settled.

Eddie's breath caught in his throat.

All four valves had landed white-side-up.

Mama Sapphire stared at them, and a slow, fierce smile spread across her face. She clapped her hands once, a sharp, cracking sound that broke the tension.

"ALAFIA!" she declared, her voice booming with joy. "It is confirmed! Esu has eaten! He has accepted the work with both hands! He is happy, mijo! The wind of Osa Meji has been redirected. The disaster is turned. Àṣẹ!"

A wave of relief so powerful it made him dizzy washed over Eddie. The "sour funk" that had clung to him for days, the psychic stench of the GOAT's office, was gone. It was scrubbed clean, replaced by the earthy, primal power of Esu. He felt... clear. He felt safe. He put his hands on the floor and touched his forehead to the mat in gratitude.

"Thank you, Mama," he whispered, his voice thick. "I... I feel him. I feel it. It's done."

"It is done," she agreed, her voice returning to normal as she began to gather her tools. "Now, go wash your hands and face. The sata is turned, but you still smell like a rooster."

Eddie let out a laugh, a real, full-throated laugh of pure relief. He stood up, his body feeling light for the first time in days. "Yes, Mama."

He went to her kitchen sink, washing the sticky, drying blood from his hands with the strong, lye-based soap she kept there. As he dried his hands, he felt a sudden, giddy sense of freedom.

The immediate threat was gone.

"Good," he said, turning back to her, a wide grin on his face. "Because I need a day off. I think I'm gonna go up to Vermont tomorrow with Jessica and Noah. We want to hang out at Destiny, and go see the Radical Faeries."

"Ay, mijo. From one set of witches to another. You just can't stay out of the monte, can you? Just try to stay out of trouble," she said.

Eddie just grinned. "No promises, Mama."