Tea before Dying

by Vered Ehsani

  “Her name is Emma,” I said, closing my eyes and sagging against the wooden planks of the barn wall. It wasn’t that hot outside, yet I wanted nothing more than a cold bath.

  “Well, thank heavens it is a girl,” she said, turning her back to me as she strolled around the small barn, her bare feet barely rustling the scattered hay, red fabric swishing around her ankles. “We need more witches. She will be a witch, won’t she?”

  “I assume so,” I said, waving a fly off my nose. “I don’t care.”

  “Bah!”

  The word blasted through my heaviness like a gunshot. Lurching up, I jerked around to face the barn door. A small woman stood there, hands on hips, feet apart, the sun behind her casting her face in shadows.

  Speaking of witches…

  “And what is that?” Koki drawled, gesturing to the figure.

  Gulping, I said, “Mzito, Jonas’ mother.”

  “Huh.” Koki peered at Mzito, an eyebrow raised as she studied the figure. “I didn’t think that grumpy, old man even had a mother.”

  Uttering an exasperated sound, I glared at Koki. “Of course, he has a mother. Just how do you think he came into the world?” I raised a hand just as she opened her mouth. “On second thought, don’t tell me. I’m sure it’s vile, wretched and likely to cause me stomach cramps.”

  Stepping toward Mzito, I smiled but before I could summon the wit required to engage in social niceties, Koki said, “We’re in the middle of training, Mama Jonas. You’ll have to come back another time if you want to borrow a bucket.”

  “Koki,” I hissed, my cheeks flushing. But Mzito cackled, startling Simon’s horse. Nelly snored.

  “Bah, you no train,” Mzito said, gesturing toward Koki with a grand sweep of one arm, beads and bones clicking on her leather tunic.

  A small groan escaped me, and my eyes fluttered closed. This could not end well.

  “Baby make you hot,” Mzito croaked.

  I squinted at Mzito. “Well, I suppose so.”

  Mzito nodded her head as she stepped into the shadows of the barn. Ignoring Koki and any sense of personal space, she stalked toward me and placed a hand over my swelling stomach. For a moment, I stared at her, unable to utter a protest as she smacked her lips and hummed to herself.

  “Really,” I huffed, “this is—”

  “Baby girl,” Mzito stated. “Very powerful witch. Better witch. Best witch.”

  Unsure if the old woman was giving a blessing or a curse, I stepped back. “That’s reassuring, I suppose.”

  Smacking her lips, Mzito stepped forward. “Bah. Makes you pee too much.”

  “Good grief,” I whispered.

  Koki chuckled and said, “Well, that’s certainly true. Maybe if you drink less tea—”

  “What a repugnant notion,” I protested, staring between the two African women and wondering if they’d both lost their minds.

  Mzito pointed a gnarled, bony finger at Koki. “Teach more.”

  Koki lowered her chin and sneered at the diminutive woman. “And just what do you think I’ve been doing?”

  “Bah,” Mzito said and smacked her lips. “Wasting time.”

  If Mzito had been a man, she’d have lost a limb, if not her head, by now. As it was, Koki had stiffened, her nostrils flaring and her eyes narrowing as if she were contemplating how best to punish Mzito for her insolence.

  “I’m sure she didn’t mean that,” I said even as I stepped back, removing myself from the line of attack, should one come. I settled myself back onto the bale of hay.

  “Then you and I have a different interpretation of her garbled babbling,” Koki said, her voice as soft as a cheetah slinking through the tall grass, preparing to pounce.

  “More spells,” Mzito crowed, shaking her hands around her head. “More and more and more.”

  Above our heads, Shelby screeched and waved her little arms in imitation.

  “We’d rather not,” I said, my arms crossed over my waist. “You see, until Emma is born, we’re not going to take any unnecessary risks. Are we, Koki?”

  The she-demon shrugged and smiled. “Well, not more than usual.”

  Scowling, I continued, “You see, a woman in my condition needs to be somewhat sensible about her activities. It’s inconvenient, to be sure, but I really must accept the limitations imposed by—”

  “Bah, not sensible,” Mzito interrupted, flinging her arms out. “Learn more. Poacher is—”

  “Yes, we know,” I said, waving at Koki not to interrupt me. “But exposing my unborn child to spells that could be dangerous for her is not going to help us.”

  “Bah, danger,” Mzito said, raising her arms. “Danger already here.”

  “Isn’t it always,” I muttered, picking a piece of straw out of my skirt.

  “No,” she insisted. “Here. Poacher is here.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “WHERE?” KOKI SNARLED, twirling around and searching the barn with her piercing gaze.

  Nelly lifted her head, snorted at us and fell back asleep.

  Mzito planted her hands on her hips and cackled. “Not here, here,” she said and waved an arm over her head. “Nairobi, here.”

  “Are you quite sure?” I asked, breaking the piece of straw in half with a satisfying, crisp snap. “Surely we’d have noticed him by now.”

  “Bah,” the old witch replied. She stamped a foot, causing the bones and trinkets on her leather skirt to tinkle. “Blind. Blind, blind, blind.”

  “Aren’t you charming,” I said and leaned against the wooden wall, grateful for my seat, despite its crunchiness. If this is how weary I felt in my first trimester, how unbearable would it be by the end? “I have to visit the facilities.”

  “Again?” Koki asked, her lush, dark lips twitching as if they were deciding between a smile and a sneer.

  “Yes, again,” I retorted, frowning both at her and my inability to manage for more than an hour without an outhouse nearby. Maybe I should consider lowering my consumption of tea.

  The moment the traitorous thought flitted through my mind, I gasped. “It starts with tea,” I reprimanded myself, “and the next thing you know, you’re revolting against the Crown.”

  “You’re talking to yourself again,” Koki said, eyebrows raised and long nails tapping along Nelly’s stall door. “So, little witch, where precisely is the Poacher?”

  “And how do you know he’s here?” I added, studying Mzito with renewed interest and wondering if I should ask the old hag for a few lessons.

  Best not mention that aloud, I decided and furtively glanced at Koki, hoping my thought hadn’t somehow slipped out. The last thing I needed was an offended she-demon. She might just shape-shift into her giant praying mantis form and show Mzito how she really felt.

  Mzito waddled toward me until she filled my view. Her shoulders were stooped, her back curved over. For a powerful witch, she had terrible posture, but I didn’t allow myself to judge her too harshly. After all, she’d killed the customs officer, then brought him back to life.

  As if reading my thoughts, she nodded. “My zombies,” she croaked.

  “Oh,” I said. Leaning to one side, I explained, “She killed the new Customs officer, Mr. Bilco, a few days ago.”

  Snorting a short laugh, Koki smirked. “Well, there’s no loss there.”

  “Yes,” I said, “Simon would quite agree. But then she resurrected Mr. Bilco.”

  “What a waste of energy.”

  Shifting against the prickly hay, I sighed, wondering if I would ever have such powers and would I want them. “That may be true. However, since dying, he’s become remarkably efficient at his job.”

  Grinning, Koki crossed her arms. “Perhaps we should ensure all the bureaucrats in this town are equally efficient.”

  “Indeed.” Turning my attention to Mzito, I asked, “How many have you killed? Actually, don’t answer.” I shook my hand in front of me for emphasis. “It’s best I don’t know how many government officers are zombies; at a
ny rate, I haven’t noticed any difference. So your zombies told you he’s here?”

  Nodding with the gravitas the conversation deserved, Mzito said, “Poacher moves his prey in, out, in, out.” She flicked her fingers back and forth with each word. “Customs know what moves in, out.”

  “Spies,” Koki exclaimed, her eyes brightening. “How delicious.”

  “Bah,” Mzito spat. “They taste horrible. But know what comes, goes, in, out. Most recent coming and going is here. Baby lion shifter, other baby shifters, moved here.”

  “But who is this Poacher?” I asked, glancing at Koki who shrugged; Mzito shook her head, deep frown lines creasing her face. “How can you not know? You’ve both hunted him. And now you’re saying he’s here in Nairobi. Surely you’ve seen a glimpse or…” I snapped my fingers before my face. “Or something.”

  “He’s too clever for that,” Koki said, hands clasped behind her back as she strolled around the barn. Shadow and light played across her features as she passed through a sunbeam. Pausing in front of the ox’s stall, she tapped her nails along the wooden stall door; the poor beast cowered in a corner, trying to make itself invisible. “He uses others to carry out the work.”

  I reflected back on my visit to Lagos. It seemed a lifetime ago. “There was an Obayifo—a vampire warlock—on the docks the night I rescued the Brownies. Could it be him?”

  Koki snorted and leaned against the stall door, studying the ox as if it was her next meal. “He’s a nasty piece of work but no. I caught many of the smugglers and scared the others into abandoning the profession. But the Poacher.” She kicked at the straw, her eyes glowing, her features hardening. “That monster was always one step ahead.”

  “It wasn’t…” I swallowed hard, ignoring Mzito’s lip smacking and incomprehensible mutterings. “You don’t think it’s Prof. Runal?”

  Snarling, Koki glared at me. “What, are you suspecting your good friend?” Pushing away from the stall, she sauntered toward me. “No, little girl, as much as I would like to place the blame of all evil at the feet of your dog, he’s not the Poacher. I would have smelled his canine stench a mile off.” Leaning over me, she narrowed her eyes, her hands fisting by her side. “That doesn’t mean he isn’t involved. But he’s not the one we need to find.”

  “What did the Poacher do to you?” I asked, my voice soft against the ferocity of Koki’s expression.

  Koki straightened and strolled toward the barn door, her lithe figure bathed in the afternoon sunlight. “It doesn’t matter,” she said before she departed. “But he will pay.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  WITH MZITO’S WARNING buzzing through my mind, I spent the remaining day trying to tame my bladder and ready myself for a wedding.

  “It’s about time those two finished their prolonged courtship,” Lilly grumbled. “We’ve both married and had children in the time Cilla and Drew have been courting.” Biting the tip of her tongue, she attempted to stuff Grace into a frilly white dress that boasted a lace trail as long as my arm.

  My baby niece wanted nothing to do with the monstrosity. Although only three months old, she was strong enough to make her opinions quite clear. Kicking her little feet against the nursery dresser upon which she lay, she arched her back in protest, wailing as if we were attempting to murder her rather than clothe her.

  Then again, I didn’t blame her. I’d never been a fan of frills and lace; they were far too scratchy and fussy, and could so easily snag the feathers of an arrow. I’d lost a critical shot because of one such blouse; never again, I’d vowed.

  “That’s hardly fair. They weren’t courting the entire time,” I suggested as I put the finishing touches on the bride’s bouquet. “Do stop torturing that baby. We need to check on Cilla. I hope she’s not a nervous wreck like you were.”

  “I most certainly was not,” Lilly said, flinging her perfectly coiffed curls over her shoulder with a toss of her head. Then, her face settling into an uncharacteristic frown, she lowered her voice as she picked Grace up and bounced her in her arms. “Have you any news on the Poacher?”

  I didn’t reply to her immediately, pretending to tweak the bouquet into perfection. It really was a beautiful arrangement, although I had little to do with it. Jonas, of all people, had prepared it using native flowers including the poisonous Angel Trumpet.

  “Beatrice, did you hear me?”

  Sighing, I schooled my expression before lying. “No news is good news, Lilly. There’s nothing to worry about. Let’s just get this event over with, shall we?”

  Her small nose twitching, Lilly pulled Grace’s hand away from her pearl choker. It was a beautiful piece that Tiberius had given her after they’d announced their engagement.

  “For someone who doesn’t like weddings,” Lilly said, “you’ve managed to participate in quite a few, two of which were your own.”

  “Which is precisely why I find them tiresome,” I said, leading the way out of the nursery. “The reception is the superior event. After all, while an unwise choice of spouse can result in all sorts of headaches, one can’t go wrong when there’s a buffet of food at hand. And if the food happens to be disagreeable, it doesn’t last long. The same cannot be said of an objectionable spouse.”

  “Really, Beatrice,” Lilly huffed and glanced at my feet which were stuffed in a pair of her shoes; the dark red matched the color of my dress. “At least you’re appropriately attired now. It’s a good thing we’re about the same size. I can’t believe you were going to wear boots with that dress. What were you thinking?”

  “That I want to be comfortable and be able to walk without risk of tripping over my heels,” I said, glaring at the fancy, high-heeled torture devices Lilly had loaned me.

  Grace cooed and smacked her gums at me as she bounced over her mother’s shoulder.

  “At least someone appreciates my sentiments,” I said and tapped Grace on her nose with a finger.

  Cilla was in the library where Lady Sybil was overseeing the final details or, more accurately, playing tyrant while Wanjiru attempted to follow contradictory instructions.

  “The stays should be tightened, girl,” Lady Sybil shrilled from the wing-backed chair nearest the fireplace. Clicking her tongue against her teeth, she added, “In my day, only women in a scandalous condition would dream of loosening the waist so extravagantly.”

  “Heaven forbid they should want to breathe,” I said to Lilly as we entered the library.

  “Wanjiru, please loosen it a bit,” Cilla whispered to my distraught shop assistant who, upon seeing me, abandoned her role and rushed to my side.

  “Miss Knight,” she wheezed, her dark eyes wide and her soft, light brown features uncharacteristically strained.

  “Go,” I urged, keeping my gaze fixed on the old lady on the off chance she revealed herself to be a giant bat masquerading as a human. Given Lady Sybil’s treatment of others, it wasn’t such an improbable notion, although I suspected I had just mentally insulted all the bats and demons of the world.

  “To where is that girl rushing?” Lady Sybil demanded as she lifted her wrinkled chin and stared down her long nose at us. Even though she was seated and we were standing, she somehow gave the impression that she was elevated well above us, lording over the preparations from her throne on high.

  “Aunt Sybil, I think it’s fine. I’m ready now,” Cilla said, her cheeks flushed as she swished the long, ivory skirts with her hands.

  Lady Sybil sniffed as she beckoned us to enter. “And we know what happens when young ladies think too much, don’t we?”

  “Not really,” I said as Lilly and I sat on a sofa.

  “I wouldn’t expect anything else from you, Mrs. Timmons,” Lady Sybil said, her large nostrils flaring.

  Surely the old bat had to be some sort of ghastly creature in the guise of propriety? Determined to ignore her, I admired Cilla. While all brides have a certain beauty by virtue of being brides, my dearest friend appeared particularly radiant and angelic. Her hair was swe
pt up in swirls of golden locks, and a lacy train flowed down the back of the simply styled dress.

  “And whoever heard of a night wedding? Now all the guests will be wearing gray and black. How very somber.” Lady Sybil muttered, although her mutters were loud and well enunciated. “Then again, one can’t expect too much, given the character of your guardian.” A sniff punctuated her feelings on Simon Timmons. “Really, I don’t know what your parents were thinking when they allowed you to come to this forsaken part of the world.”

  Lilly took a great interest in examining the pearly white buttons on Grace’s dress; for her part, Grace tried to chew on one of those buttons. I could only hope someone had done a thorough job sewing them on. Then again, the baby was a Popobawa, and it was rather difficult to kill a demon. I knew this from personal experience.

  “Well, it’s just that…” Cilla’s voice shrunk before the fierce gaze of her great-aunt. Glancing at me for moral support or perhaps a club with which to smack the interfering relative, she gulped and murmured, “A few of the guests can’t attend a day wedding.”

  “Can’t, or won’t?” the good lady shrilled, tapping her fingers against the armrests. “I’ve never heard of such inconsiderate temperaments.” Glancing above our heads as if searching a distant horizon for answers to this puzzling lack of manners, she added, “It must be the deleterious effects of too much equatorial sun.”

  At that moment, a vampire walked into the room.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  NORMALLY, I WOULDN’T advise rushing into the arms of a vampire unless one had a death wish. However, there are always exceptions to every rule.

  “Father, you’ve returned in time,” I gushed and fell into his embrace as Cilla and Lilly turned to him with equal delight.

  Although shorter than my half-brother Tiberius, Mr. James Elkhart had the same graceful bearing as his son. Slim yet well-proportioned, his clean-shaven face was composed of elegant features. A classic vampire of Mediterranean persuasion, he appeared middle-aged. His skin was a few tones lighter than Tiberius’, and his eyes were light brown, like watered-down tea.