by Vered Ehsani
“Don’t bother,” I snapped. “We have a dead elephant and a hunter to hide, and a creator god to visit. Assuming he doesn’t toss us off his cloud, we have to convince him to give Death back his powers.”
“That’s why I’m here,” Prof. Runal said.
Yao resumed his bouncing and asked, “Are you coming too?”
“No,” I snapped just as Koki snorted and said, “Not bloody likely.”
Shifting his legs, Prof. Runal addressed Yao. “No, I won’t be joining you, young man, no indeed. I do have something that might assist you.” So saying, he withdrew from a pocket a sealed envelope and held it out to me.
Squinting my eyes, I watched his energy field pop into my vision. Most of his energy was bright with swirling color; I could detect no lie or deceit. But when it came to the devious werewolf, I wasn’t sure I could rely on what I saw. He had misled me too many times.
Yao leaned closer, sniffed at the envelope and announced, “It smells like a dog.”
Koki sneered as she studied her long nails. “Foolish firefly. Everything about him smells like a dog.”
Prof. Runal glanced at the floor before lifting his gaze to me. Warmth and hurt brimmed out of his brown eyes. “Please, Mrs. Timmons, take the envelope. It may assist you in your negotiations. Give it to Enkai.”
Growling, I snatched the sealed envelope and stuffed it into a skirt pocket. “Fine. You’ve delivered your letter. Now go.”
Nodding once, his large shoulders slouching, he turned and walked away, every step heavy and deliberate. Despite all he’d done in his role as Director of the Society for Paranormals, despite all my family had suffered because of him, I couldn’t help but yearn to run after him. Stifling the pang of loss, I let him leave.
“We’ll need to take Mr. Turner and his pet,” Koki said as the front door swung closed. “If we leave them, they will most likely get into some trouble.”
As if to prove the point, Mr. Turner thumped his head onto his table a few times, grinning as he did so.
“Stop doing that,” I chided him. “I don’t want blood stains or bits of brain marring my tablecloth. Do you have any idea how difficult such stains are to remove?”
“And we’ll need a guide,” Death said, his eyes shifting in my direction. His utter stillness was unnerving.
“Who?” I demanded.
“Someone familiar with the Sky and its spirits, I suppose?” Koki mused, her full, dark lips upturned.
Closing my eyes, I clenched the metal fist on top of my walking stick. “Please, don’t tell me.”
“I’ve already asked—” Death began.
“She said not to tell her,” Yao interrupted, his voice rising with outrage.
Sighing, I opened my eyes and glanced between Koki and Death. They shared the same knowing expression. “No, I already know. Our guide is Kam, God of Lightning.”
Chapter Nineteen
IN HINDSIGHT, IT was no surprise that we would be guided to the Sky Kingdom by the God of Lightning. Aside from his affinity to all the air-related spirits, Kam had the uncanny ability of entering my life when trouble abounded.
I only hoped he wouldn’t snap a lightning bolt at my head.
One never knew with Kam.
After reassuring Tiberius I would try not to die—if for no other reason than to deliver my baby—and accepting Lilly’s offer to dress my child—assuming it was a girl—in Grace’s hand-me-downs, we all returned to our various abodes for the night. Mine happened to be inhabited by a lot of dead creatures. As I lay in bed, pretending to sleep, I glanced to where Simon should be lying.
“What would you say if you were here?” I murmured into the darkness before snorting. I knew exactly what he would say, and little of it would be pleasing to the ear. Yet I would happily trade a year’s supply of tea to hear his lecture if only it would mean he was here by my side. With such happy thoughts I drifted into a restless slumber filled with visions of dead elephants.
Mornings in the Timmons’ household started abominably early. If the weaver birds residing in the tree near my bedroom window didn’t wake me with their infernal tweeting and squawking, Shelby did. A monkey bouncing on my head at sunrise wasn’t how I’d envisioned my life. Knowing Jonas was in the kitchen, fueling the wood stove and boiling water, I somehow managed to handle the assault on my sleepy senses.
“I can’t believe you are abandoning Shelby,” Gideon griped as I stumbled around the kitchen, searching for tea leaves and a banana.
“Don’t,” I ordered, waving a banana at the ghost. “I’ve already been lectured by one husband. Or I would have, if he was here.”
Ignoring Gideon’s confused expression and Jonas’ snicker, I peeled the banana and left it on the counter for Shelby to demolish. The little monkey pounced on it, chattering and squealing between mouthfuls. Sulking, Gideon hovered over her.
“And I suppose I’ll be left behind as well,” he said, his angelic features frowning.
“If you wish,” I said, not willing to be dragged into a sense of guilt before consuming at least one cup of tea. “Jonas will take care of Shelby.”
“Bah,” Jonas grumbled and spat onto a stone slab near where I was preparing my teapot. “Miss Knight, stay home. Me, I don’t babysit.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m not asking you to babysit,” I informed him as I inhaled the rich warmth of steam wafting from the brewing tea. “Shelby isn’t a baby anymore. And I shouldn’t be gone too long.”
On that overly optimistic note, I left Gideon and Jonas to brood while I prepared for the trip. Then again, one might ask how one prepares for a journey into the Sky to visit the Creator. On the one hand, I wanted to dress presentably, as befitted a visit to such a lofty entity; however, I had no interest in mucking up my one unstained, reasonably fashionable outfit which hadn’t been bitten, torn or otherwise ruined. In the end, I opted for practical. Lilly would be so disappointed in me.
When I arrived at the barn, Koki and Death were doing their best to ignore one another. At least they weren’t fighting. Mr. Turner was shambling around the elephant, his jaw hanging at an awkward angle. Yao was waving a clump of hay in front of the elephant while pushing Nelly’s nose away from the treat.
Even though I knew better, I automatically provided the typical English greetings. “Good morning, and how’s everyone?” I barely restrained myself from commenting on the weather.
Koki chuckled and said, “And what fine weather we’re experiencing.”
Scowling at her and ignoring Death’s laugh, I asked, “Where’s Kam?”
Before anyone could answer, a bright flash blinded me, and the scent of ozone stung my nose. When my eyes readjusted to normal sunlight, Kam the God of Lightning stood before me.
He was a tall and handsome man whose every movement was effortless and full of grace. His dark skin was pierced with startling markings of swirls and dots on his strong, angular face and along his muscular arms and chest. Sunlight reflected off the top of his shaved head, and his pale brown eyes stared each of us into submission. Discreetly I breathed in his natural perfume of spice, warm earth, wood smoke and something a little wild.
“Ooo,” Yao cooed, gazing at Kam with a worshiping gaze. “Bright lights.” While Yao was distracted, admiring his hero, Nelly snatched the clump of hay from his limp hand and crunched on it, the grinding of her teeth covering up her bout of flatulence.
If Death and Koki cared little for the social niceties of the English, Kam was aggressively disdainful of them. His only greeting was a slight incline of his head after which he gestured to the elephant.
“We can’t leave it here,” Koki explained, yawning. “We wouldn’t want to startle the colonialists.” Pausing, she tilted her head to the side, her full lips twitching in amusement. Clicking her fingernails against each other, she added, “On second thought, I’m not sure why that’s such a bad idea.”
Shaking his bald head, Kam flicked a wrist, indicating I should get on Nelly.
�
��Nice to see you, too,” I muttered as I mounted the horse. Koki swung on behind me.
“Yes, it is,” Yao sighed before shifting into his firefly form and clinging to my shoulder.
Death tossed Mr. Turner onto the back of the elephant before joining him. The elephant flapped her ears and raised her tusk with her trunk, waving the big piece of ivory around like a banner. Kam whispered into Nelly’s ear. Stamping a hoof and neighing, the horse leaped into the air. The world disappeared in a blur of blue and green and loud whistling. Lowering my chin to my chest and closing my eyes and mouth firmly, I gripped chunks of mane between my fingers, hoping I would complete one ride without a bug splattering across my face.
After a few minutes of racing through the clouds, we began a steep descent. Struggling against the natural response to shout a warning, I kept my mouth and eyes firmly closed until Nelly’s hooves pounded onto the ground, sending a jolt reverberating up my spine. In a cloud of ozone, the elephant landed beside us, Death as pale as… well, as death, and Kam standing nearby. He’d lifted an entire elephant and transported it without so much as a hint of exertion.
“If you can carry an elephant,” I said as I brushed insect juice off my forehead and plucked leaves out of my braid, “why can’t you just whisk us up to the Sky?”
Koki snorted as she dismounted. “Because that would be far too easy.”
“Yao likes easy,” Yao squeaked before shifting into his human form.
Kam tilted his head to one side as if wondering at what angle he should deliver his lightning bolt. Or perhaps he noticed something stuck in my hair and had decided not to inform me. I began brushing my fingers through my hair, the long braid unravelling as I did so. A beetle scurried across my hand and flew off.
“There’s a barrier I cannot cross,” Kam said, his voice low and gravely like thunder.
“Of course there is,” I muttered as I slid off Nelly and gazed around.
Giant trees towered above, their branches thickly intertwined with only a few gaps in the canopy. Ropey vines dangled down while large, buttressing roots jutted out of the tree trunks and plunged into the ground in thick, wooden sheets. Small animals and birds rustled through the luxurious growth. My highly sensitive olfactory senses tingled. I breathed in the scent of rich, dark soil full of decomposing leaves and fresh flowers. Water dripped nearby while farther on, a waterfall rumbled. The air was cool and moist.
Gulping, I said, “I’ve been here before. We’re on Mt. Kenya, aren’t we?”
Kam nodded as he assisted Mr. Turner down from the elephant. Death leaped down and brushed at his face, his lips twisting in disgust as he spat a green glob onto the ground. “I despise insects,” he hissed.
“Hush, boy,” Koki said, sauntering toward a cluster of giant bamboo. Each stem was thicker than my thigh. “You might not want to say that too loudly, given the company you keep. After all, you are currently mortal.”
I followed Koki to the entrance of a tunnel that had been created through the forest of bamboo. The tunnel was twice my height and as wide as it was tall. Pale green light filled the space. Inside the bamboo tunnel existed a stillness that I could sense was unnatural. A number of bird species use bamboo leaves for nesting material, yet the giant stems were empty of winged life. Bits of broken bamboo crunched underfoot.
Nelly neighed and thumped her nose against my back. I glanced over my shoulder. “Yes, I know this is madness. Stay here.”
Snorting, the horse turned her back to me as if to say, “Obviously,” and plunged her head into a nearby flowering bush. Meanwhile, the elephant backed away from the tunnel to join Nelly. Even dead, the beast had more sense than any of us.
“Well, shall we?” I asked, gesturing with my walking stick to the bamboo forest.
“Shall we what?” Yao asked, his face scrunched in confusion as he tugged a leaf off a bamboo shoot and began shredding it.
“Imbecile,” Koki muttered as she led the way down the tunnel and toward her husband, Anansi the Trickster God, otherwise known as the ridiculously giant spider.
The bamboo tunnel burrowed straight through the jungle. Only once was there a break in the wall. I spared a glanced out at the vista to distract me from what could very well be a one-way trip. Below us lay a small, narrow valley thick with trees and bird songs. Weaver birds flashed about, yellow smudges against the riot of greens. A cluster of banana trees huddled under the massive bombax tree that dominated the scene, while thorn trees spread their branches calmly amongst the chaos. A soft veil of mist filled the spaces in between, blurring the crisp edges of foliage, transforming the landscape into a dream.
Within the tendrils of fog lingered the ozone and earth-scented breath of the ancient world, one that knew nothing of men and machines, but was deeply aware of giant insects and rainbow serpents. While a mist-magnified daylight pushed its way up from behind the opposite hill, the valley clung to the muted colors and stillness of a predawn night.
Sighing, I glanced up at the sky, the normal one in which only the sun and a few clouds dwelled.
“Don’t worry, Miss Knight,” Yao whispered as he leaned over my shoulder. His warm cheek brushed mine. “Yao won’t let anything happen to you. Wanjiru likes her job so you can’t die.”
With that dubious assurance, we continued. Shortly thereafter, the bamboo tunnel opened up into a circular space that reminded me of the giant snake’s nest in which Simon and I had once hidden. Crushed bamboo stalks created a bouncy floor while pale green stalks rose above us, an arching green roof.
At the furthest end of the clearing squatted a large mound, covered in golden-tipped hairs, each a hand-length tall. Thick, ropey legs stuck out at regular intervals. Two large, glassy eyes, unblinking and glossy black, stared out of a vaguely human face. Below these two was a row of four smaller eyes; on the top of the head were two narrow eyes, as if the creature was perpetually squinting up at whatever was on the ceiling. It was indeed a spider and one of immense proportions.
“Bwana Anansi,” Kam murmured, bowing before the great beast. We all followed his example except Koki who tilted her hip to one side and crossed her arms over her chest. The serious, tense faces around me reminded me of Kam’s advice on our previous visit: “Don’t smile. It looks aggressive to a spider.”
With a giant spider looming over us, I doubted any of us would feel inclined to smile.
Anansi hissed, his large fangs clacking in front of his face. “Welcome,” he chirped, his voice high-pitched and squeaking. Waving one leg in our direction, he added, “Le-Eyo the fallen.”
Death glared at the spider and shook his head, the shells at the end of his braids clattering against each other. Wisely, he remained silent along with everyone else. Beside me, Yao shifted from one foot to the other, his chin almost touching his chest, his hands tugging at a piece of bamboo leaf. Mr. Turner stared at the giant insect, drool sliding from his slack-jaw grin, one hand tangled in his hair to keep his head upright.
I glanced at Koki, my eyebrows raised as I wondered why she didn’t say anything to her husband. Although she maintained a haughty pose, she too dared not speak.
“Blast it,” I muttered.
Eyes wide, Yao jerked away from me. “What are you going to blast?” he asked.
Ignoring him, I raised my chin, squared my shoulders and said, “Anansi, sir, we need your assistance. You see, we want to visit the Sky and—”
“No. He loves moon,” Anansi interrupted and giggled in his eerily girly voice.
Scowling, Death clenched his hands into fists. Frowning, Kam glanced at me, his expression unreadable, the abstract patterns on his skin swirling and glowing.
“Yes,” I offered, the silence of my companions grating on me. Ignoring Kam’s head-shake, I said, “But we’re not here about that. The cycle of life and death—”
“Life is death,” Anansi interrupted me yet again. “Death is life.”
“How poetic,” I said under my breath.
“Wanjiru likes poetry,” Y
ao said, his voice soft as the leaf disintegrated in his fingers.
“Tell story,” Anansi ordered. I couldn’t tell to whom he was speaking as his eight eyes could be focused anywhere and everywhere.
“That story has nothing to do with this mission,” Death said, his face flushed, his eyes darkening.
The spider pounded his two front legs against the ground, causing a minor quake through the soil.
“If the big insect wants a story,” Yao whispered, his shoulders hunched inward, “then tell him a story.”
“I quite agree,” I said, eyeing the clicking fangs, each longer than my legs.
“None of you are old enough to know my story,” Death grumbled, glaring at each of us and stopping at Kam. “Well, except you.”
With a slight nod and the mere hint of a smile, Kam said, “Then I shall tell it.”
Chapter Twenty
IN THE DAYS when the earth was new, Enkai the Creator assigned each of the gods specific tasks. When Le-Eyo was summoned, he thought, “Surely Enkai has reserved the most prestigious position for me. After all, I am one of the strongest and cleverest within his court, and by far the most persistent and determined.”
While Le-Eyo imagined what position was worthy of his skills, Enkai had other plans. “You must guard the children of men lest anything wayward occurs,” Enkai ordered. “If a child should die, speak the Prayer of Life to bring him back so he may learn a lesson and continue to progress and grow.”
Dissatisfied, Le-Eyo questioned Enkai’s decision. “Surely, oh supreme being, there is a task more worthy of my nature, more compatible with my skills?”
“No, this is what I desire,” replied Enkai. “Your power over life will ensure my human children continue to flourish. Otherwise, they will die too young, and their development will be slow.”
Frowning, Le-Eyo insisted, “Am I no more than a caregiver of babies?”
Angered by the disobedient god, Enkai shook a fist at him. “This is your task. Neglect it not.”
