☎️ Hex support

“Thank you for calling Nimue’s Hex Support Service. How may I help you?” the woman’s pleasant voice said on the other end of the line.

I paused. I was fairly certain I had misheard her. This definitely didn’t sound like the Geek Squad.

My coworker Angelo walked by the conference room where I had set-up early for the presentation. He peered in through the wall-length windows with smug satisfaction at my obvious tech problem.

“Cat got your tongue? Or has someone jinxed you?” the woman on the phone asked. “Fixing that is one of our specialties.”

“No, sorry.” I closed the conference door so my nosey coworkers wouldn’t hear my anxiety. “I’m having trouble with my computer not restarting. Can you help me with that? I’m under warranty.”

At least I hoped I still was. I was probably lying to myself. My computer was three years old. If I wasn’t under warranty, I was willing to fork over an extra hundred dollars for them to help me fix the problem over the phone. The meeting I was about to have at the ad agency was worth far more than that.

“Certainly.” The woman sounded like she was typing. “Let me look up your information. Let’s start with your Zodiac sign.”

“Did you say Zodiac sign? Um, is that relevant?”

“For security reasons, it’s safer than revealing your true name.” Her tone was matter-of-fact. “We don’t want demons who might be eavesdropping to know your true name and gain power over you, do we?”

“Yeah, uh, sure.” I had no idea what she was talking about, but I had a meeting in an hour, and I was willing to do anything to make sure I had my notes printed out. “I’m a Gemini.”

“Very good. Blood type.”

“B negative.” Dread built in the pit of my stomach as I considered my tech issues.

“Using numerology, when you add up all the numbers of your first name, what is the final number?”

My coworker Darby-Anne walked by, her mouth moving as she cast a snooty glance at me through the window. The thick Chicago Manual of Style she carried didn’t hide the Bible underneath.

I lowered my voice. “I don’t know how to use numerology. Can I just give you my first name?”

“For security reasons, I wouldn’t recommend it.” She walked me through assigning numbers to the letters of my first name.

J-O-Y-C-E was 1-7-1-3-5. Then she instructed me to do the same for my middle name and surname until we came up with a final number.

After a few more questions, she said, “I see you don’t have an account with us.”

I sighed in exasperation. “This isn’t Geek Squad, is it? Can you just help me get my computer running? I’m willing to pay for a plan if I need to.”

“Certainly,” the service representative said. “We have generous packages available that cover a range of common issues. Describe the nature of your problem.”

“My computer won’t power up. I tried plugging in and unplugging the power cord. I held down the start button. I have to get my notes printed off before my meeting starts.” My voice rose in panic as I explained the situation.

My boss would blame me if I failed to land this client. He wouldn’t care about my computer dying.

“I see. Do you have any enemies? Anyone who gives you the evil eye? Someone who might be jealous enough to put a pox on you—or your computer?”

“I don’t know.”

I had only worked for the ad agency for a year. My coworkers’ general ineptitude at coding websites, saving their files, or appropriate uses of typography in design didn’t strike me as being capable enough for their jobs, let alone being skilled enough at something like witchcraft.

As far as malicious intent went, Jenny had gotten mad at me yesterday when I asked her to turn her radio down because I couldn’t concentrate when she played her music. And the boss was an arrogant jerk who liked to hear himself talk, but he wouldn’t wish me ill because he wanted the company to succeed.

Then again, I would swear he was looking for a reason to fire me. And sometimes he did speak in tongues, so maybe he was a warlock or something. I had never even considered the possibility before.

“What are the notes for?” the woman asked, interrupting my thoughts.

“I need to talk about the company’s success record with other retailers, explain the market analysis we did of the potential client’s competition, and give them options for different advertising packages we offer.” Sweat beaded up on the back of my neck as I glanced at the clock on the office wall.

“So you don’t actually need to show your potential client these notes? You can recite them.” She sounded unconcerned. “Did you read these notes previously? Do you think this information is stored in your subconscious?”

“Yeah, but—”

“You don’t need your computer for that. You need a charm that will help you remember those details. We have three possible plans that cover emergency circumstances such as this. Our basic monthly service, the Bronze Star Hex Support Plan, includes the ability to request charms for competence, memory, or persuasion spells when everything else in life fails. It’s only $29.99 and you can cancel at any time. The next level up is our Silver Star Hex Support Plan. This includes everything in the basic plan, but also some valuable perks. For $49.99 a month, we can reanimate electronics—and people. We can run a monthly hex check to determine if any of your enemies have cast malicious spells on you, and send you the diagnostic with cleansing spells to nullify that damage.”

“Wow. That sounds useful.” It was quite possible my life would be completely different if I had purchased that plan instead of mediocre tech support from Best Buy.

“Our most expensive plan is the Gold Star Hex Support. This has everything both other plans include, but it also provides a grimoire of spells so you can curse your enemies. If there are any spells you cast that you are dissatisfied with the results, you can call in and ask a trained witch or warlock to repeat them for you. Satisfaction guaranteed.”

I tingled with excitement right down to my green-painted toenails upon hearing that plan. “How much does this cost?”

“Your immortal soul.”

I laughed, assuming she was joking. She didn’t laugh.

“Oh,” I said, realizing how serious this service was. “If I pay with my soul, what happens to it? Will I go to hell when I die?”

I had watched enough movies that showed Christian depictions of souls roasting in eternal torment that I knew where this bargain would inevitably take me.

She snorted. “Not having reliable technology is hell on earth, am I right? The afterlife can’t get any worse.”

I didn’t answer, considering how much I wanted the Gold Star Hex Support. But the price was something I couldn’t provide.

She filled the silence with chatter, trying to persuade me. “In any case, your soul isn’t going to be poked with a pitchfork for all eternity. We value the price of a good soul and will keep it safe for you when you die. Think of it like going on a nice vacation at an exclusive resort… in a warm climate.”

I could see through her attempt to seduce my soul. “How do I know you aren’t going to trick me into signing this contract and then have someone kill me so your company can collect my soul early?” That’s what always happened in stories.

My boss walked by the conference room windows. He tapped his watch. I still had thirty minutes before the clients arrived. There was no reason he needed to harass me.

“It specifically states in our contract that you are guaranteed at least fifty years from the time you sign,” the service rep said. “There are no early terminations as part of our deal.”

They really had thought of everything. It was so tempting, but my soul was a commodity I couldn’t give them.

“That’s a little outside my budget,” I said. “Will the Silver Star Plan help me resurrect my computer?”

“That’s correct, but it’s also possible you won’t need your notes with the memory charm.”

“Do you take Visa?” I asked.

I allowed the witch to run a diagnostic over the phone. She dismantled all current curses cast on my computer, and I went to my meeting more prepared than I had known I could be. She was right that I didn’t need to look at my notes. I aced the presentation and landed the company a new client.

Afterwards, I found the email in my inbox from Nimue’s Hex Support. It was the complete diagnostic report.

I was shocked to learn that my coworker Jenny had put a pox on my computer. My boss had a voodoo doll of me at home that he kept in his bed. He didn’t use pins or tear off the limbs. He just rubbed it against his crotch. Gross. I always assumed he stared at me intently because he hated me.

As I kept reading, I saw Nimue’s Hex Support had thwarted the effects of a love potion that had been dumped in my coffee and would have taken my free will away. My coworker, Angelo, was apparently jealous of me and kept making the evil eye at me behind my back. And of course, Darby-Anne kept saying she was “praying” for me every time something bad happened in my life, but really she was trying to use Christian “spells” to bend me to her will—and that of her god.

I was furious. I was surrounded by horrible people with malicious intent.

I called hex support back. The same woman greeted me over the phone, asking for my security questions to verify it was me.

I explained my situation. “Are there any packages just for one hex? I want to cast it at someone else. I don’t need an entire grimoire or a monthly service or the Gold Star plan. This is a one-time thing.”

“You have one person you want to hex? Only one?” Her tone was skeptical.

“Well…” I really wanted to hex Jenny and my boss. Though if I were being honest, I wouldn’t have minded a little something for Darby-Anne and Angelo as well.

“Casting curses on others is only included in the Gold Star Hex Support Plan. It really is an all-or-nothing kind of deal,” the representative said. “But remember, this plan comes with unlimited hexes and curses. There’s no limit.”

I considered the consequences of making this agreement. I was willing to live with it. “Okay. Sign me up.”

If these witches thought they were getting my soul, the joke was on them. I had already sold my soul three years ago for unlimited auto repairs without going to a mechanic. I haven’t needed to change my oil since.

Who needed an immortal soul anyway?

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