Death in a Teacup

by Vered Ehsani

  As I joined the animals in the stall, Nelly snuffled, pushing her velvety nose against my face. I placed my cheek against her long face, clung to her neck and cried. Her warmth, her sweet grass scent and the soft sounds of animals settling down to sleep wrapped me in comfort but couldn’t assuage the hole in my chest.

  Snorting, Nelly lowered her head to her trough. Finding it empty, she stomped a hoof against the hay-littered ground and pushed at me with her shoulder.

  “What is it now?” I asked as I leaned against her, too drained to return to the cottage. Eyeing the hay, I decided it would do nicely. After all, I’d slept in less comfortable beds.

  Before I could collapse, Nelly whinnied just as a golden glow filled the barn. Le-Eyo, God of Death, strolled out of the air and stood before me in all his godly, golden splendor.

  “This is the price, isn’t it?” I whispered as I wiped a hand across my face, flinging tears to the side. “This is what Enkai meant.”

  “Yes,” Death said in a sigh.

  “Why did I have to pay that price? And my child?” I demanded, glaring at him through more tears. Before he could answer, I hissed, “I don’t ever want to see you. Never. You’re not welcome here.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice soft, his eyes devoid of their customary haughtiness. “After all you did to assist me, it must seem as if I betrayed you.”

  “You did.” The hoarseness of my voice angered me. “How dare you return? Have you not tormented me sufficiently?”

  “Forgive me.”

  “Never!”

  As my scream filled the barn, the other horses and the ox made nervous noises, their hooves thumping against their stalls. Nelly swatted me with her nose before maneuvering behind me; with her head, she pushed me out of her stall and into Death’s arms. I thumped my fists against his leather vest; he pulled me closer, draping his arms around my shoulders.

  “Unhand me, you scoundrel,” I ordered, my voice scratchy and faded.

  He did but instead grabbed my human hand. “There’s something I wish to show you.”

  The wolf energy in my metal hand flared outward as my agitation mounted. “Nothing to do with you can interest me.” Tears renewed their flow but I didn’t wipe them away.

  “I know, Miss Knight,” he said, his voice disarming in its tenderness. “But this isn’t about me.”

  So saying, he led the way outside, tugging at my arm when my reluctant feet refused to move. Moonlight coated the ground and nearby trees with a pearly blue film. The scent of angel’s trumpets coated the air with rich perfume. Olapa stood before the barn, her smile and open arms welcoming me, her skin luminescent. By her side stood a little boy of three or four years of age who looked vaguely familiar.

  Before I could speak, the boy ran toward me and wrapped his arms around my waist. Stunned and appalled, I stared into his wide, gray eyes.

  Laughing in the sweet way of young children, the boy said, “Mommy, I’m so happy to finally meet you.”

  Chapter Thirty

  “MOMMY?” I GASPED, studying this strange boy. “You’re my… my son? But… that’s not possible.”

  “Yes, it is possible, Mommy,” the boy chirped, grinning up at me. “Arthur. My name’s Arthur.”

  My strength departed me. I collapsed to my knees and stared at a face that reminded me of both Simon—the gray eyes—and myself—the long nose and pointy chin. Yet all these features were so much more refined, more beautiful, than they ever could be on anyone else.

  “You are perfect,” I whispered as I grasped my son to my chest and cried into his curly brown hair.

  “Why are you crying, Mommy?” Arthur demanded as he pulled away and stroked my damp face with his small, soft hands. “I’m here. I didn’t leave you.”

  I gripped his slim shoulders in my hands and studied his cherub face, admiring every line of perfection and grace, marveling how two flawed people could create a being so delightful and flawless. Of their own accord, my hands moved up to grasp his head as I leaned in and kissed his forehead. His scent was innocence and clean water with a touch of ozone.

  “Can you stay?” I whispered but glanced up at Death who shook his head.

  “But I’ll always be close,” Arthur said, giggling, his bright eyes untouched by the sorrows of life. Twisting around, he waved at Olapa.

  “We will care for your son until your spirit departs its mortal cage and returns to us,” Olapa said, her hands sweeping upward, her voice a summer breeze which caressed my mind.

  “He will be revered as a warrior slain in battle, in honor of his courageous mother,” Death added.

  “And whenever you want to see him,” Olapa said, lifting one arm up, “you only have to look at me. Arthur will be by my side as the star he is.”

  I followed the direction of her arm. Despite the bright glow of the moon, I could see below it the twinkle of a star I’d never seen before.

  The boy tugged on my shirt collar. “And make sure you show my sister where I am. Let her come outside at night so we can play.” Lowering his head and staring at my stomach, he said in a raised voice, “Emma, you be good, okay? Listen to Mommy. And eat your vegetables, even if they are yucky. Okay?”

  “Sister?” I repeated, one hand drifting down to my stomach.

  Smiling, Death nodded and said, “Twins are a powerful omen, Miss Knight.”

  “Twins,” I whispered, squinting as I touched my midsection. A small energy form flickered. “Why didn’t I see that before?”

  “They were so small, they seemed as one,” Olapa explained, her hands floating before her, palms up. “And indeed, they are still one.”

  “So you don’t have to be sad, Mommy,” Arthur said, bouncing up and down as he patted my cheeks. “Emma will be here. She’ll play with you every day. And Daddy’s coming home.”

  “But…” I glanced up at Death.

  Shrugging, he smirked and flicked a few braids over his shoulder. Shells tinkled as he said, “I may have interfered with the court proceedings. And I may have transported a certain freed man halfway across the continent.” He winked. “It’s normally forbidden but given the circumstances, I don’t think anyone should mind too much.”

  The rattle of wooden wheels against rough ground caused me to peer over my shoulder toward Nairobi. Squinting, I could detect the energy sources of a pair of oxen, a driver and another man.

  “Simon,” I whispered. My pulse surged, my breath quickened, and the weakness in my limbs faded as warmth flooded through me.

  Twirling back, I scooped the boy, my son, into my arms and squeezed him, trying to memorize the feel of him. I breathed in his natural perfume, his energy, his beauty, his delightful perfection. His small arms clasped around my neck.

  “Bye, Mommy,” Arthur whispered into my ear. “I’ll see you again. This goodbye is not forever. I love you.”

  I lowered him to the ground and released him, unable to reply through the thickness in my throat. He skipped to the two gods and grasped their hands.

  “Thank you,” I mouthed to Death. He nodded back and gently smiled. I wondered why I’d never noticed how kind Death could be.

  The three faded away into the moonlight, and I stared up at the new star.

  “I love you too,” I said before rushing to the cottage to await my husband’s return.

  Read on to find out what was Fact and what was Fiction. But before you do:

  Get a photo album of Victorian Nairobi, the two prequels to this series and a beginner’s guide to African paranormals for free from my website (http://veredehsani.co.za/free-books/).

  The misadventures of Beatrice Knight Timmons and her friends continue in Case 3 of “The Cozy Tea Shoppe Mystery series”. Go to my website and sign up for the newsletter so you don’t miss it.

  Fact & Fiction

  Allow me to clarify what parts of this story are based on some semblance of reality. Below are the facts as I understand them, and the fictional aspects pointed out.

  Fact: The stor
y of Death and Olapa the Moon Goddess is based on a Maasai myth which explains why people die and don’t return.

  Fact: The peoples of West Africa mention dragon-like creatures, including the Rainbow Serpents Damballa and Aiya Weddo who participated in the creation of the world. As their names suggest, they are colorful and form rainbows in the sky.

  Fiction: I made up the part about the baby rainbow serpent pulling the wagon. Serpents would never allow themselves to be treated like that.

  Fact: The Impundulu or Lightning Bird is a supernatural bird from Southern Africa’s Pondo, Zulu, and Xhosa folklore. The human-sized, shape-shifting bird is black and white, and can summon lightning and storms.

  Fact: Another creature from South African mythology is the Grootslang. A fifty-foot-long metallic green serpent, this great beast is the only known natural predator of adult elephants which it devours whole. Like its European cousins, the Grootslang hoards treasure—in this case, diamonds, for which South Africa is well know—and guards its cave with great ferocity.

  Fact: Miss Knight mentions how unscrupulous suppliers added sand and soil to tea packages to lower their costs. Sometimes up to fifty percent of a tea package was dirt!

  Fact: Mrs. Steward references an author named Lady Maria Clutterbuck. As a matter of fact, Mrs. Clutterbuck was a pen name for Mrs. Charles Dickens who published “What shall we have for dinner?” in 1851. Her suggested menu for one meal would surely be a recipe for indigestion: carrot soup, turbot with shrimp sauce, lobster patties, stewed kidneys, roast saddle of lamb, boiled turkey, knuckle of ham, mashed and brown potatoes, stewed onions, cabinet pudding, blancmange and cream, and macaroni.

  Fact: Another of Mrs. Steward’s most treasured resources was Isabella Beeton’s Book of Household Management. Mrs. Beeton was quite generous in dispensing knowledge, some of which was of dubious quality. Mangoes were liked only “by those who have not a prejudice against turpentine.” Potatoes were “suspicious, a great many are narcotic, and many are deleterious.”

  Fact: My favorite quote by Mrs. Beeton, in which she is referring to moldy cheese, is: “Generally speaking, decomposing bodies are not wholesome eating, and the line must be drawn somewhere.”

  Fact: One of the customers of the Cozy Tea Shoppe is based on a real person. Mrs. Mayence Bent was the founder and owner of the Stanley Hotel, and was an impressive woman with a clever mind for business.

  Fiction: Mrs. Bent invited Miss Knight to join the East African Ladies League. The League didn’t actually exist.

  Fact: However, the East Africa Women’s League did and still does. Formed in 1917 at the New Stanley Hotel, a group of women banded together with the aim of working for the improvement of the conditions of life for women in the new country.

  Fact: “Charlie the Nell” was an early resident of Nairobi. He left his shirt open and never washed; he had a habit of combing his hairy chest with a fork. Really, I didn’t make that up.

  Fact: Dr. Rosendo Ribeiro was a doctor from Goa—part of Portuguese India. One of his claims to fame is that he rode about Nairobi on a zebra in the early 1900s. He was the first—and for a while, the only—Western-educated doctor in the area. As far as I know, he is still the only doctor who ever did house calls on a zebra.

  Fact: Tommy Wood from Yorkshire was Nairobi’s first mayor. John Ainsworth was the Chief Native Commissioner for a spell. Mrs. Steward complains about both of them, but they weren’t that bad.

  Fact: The Nairobi Committee did require all natives to register their names and other details with the Commissioner.

  Fact: Case 2 of The Cozy Tea Shoppe Mystery series takes place in August of 1900.

  Fact: A big round of applause is owed to: Monica La Porta, a good friend and an awesome author (http://monicalaporta.com); Paula, best proofreader ever (https://paulaproofreader.wixsite.com/home); Starla Huchton, cover designer extraordinaire (http://www.designedbystarla.com); and Death for not dying.

  Fact: Subscribe to Vered’s blog at http://veredehsani.co.za and receive a Victorian Nairobi photo album, the prequel to this series, a beginner’s guide to African paranormals, and other gifts.

  Fact: If you enjoyed this book, please recommend it to others. I rely on and deeply appreciate your support; plus, you’ll feel awesome from performing your good deed for the day.

  Fact: Vered has other books you might want to read. Their descriptions are further on.

  Read More

  To find sales links for all my books, visit here: http://veredehsani.co.za/my-books/

  THE COZY TEA SHOPPE MYSTERY SERIES: Tea isn’t the only thing that’s brewing in the delicious sequel to the “Society for Paranormals” series. Join semi-retired paranormal detective Miss Knight as she attempts to keep the kettle boiling and her customers satisfied (or at least alive) while dodging murder, mayhem and other inconveniences. Serving tea has never been more dangerous.

  Murder for Tea

  Murder is brewing: While Beatrice Knight Timmons is part witch, the only thing she’s interested in nowadays is tea, and copious amounts of it. But that’s not all that’s brewing. No sooner does she open her very own tearoom and shop in the small town of Nairobi, someone with a vendetta against young brides murders one and leaves the body in The Cozy Tea Shoppe. With her best friend’s wedding only weeks away, can Miss Knight stop the murderer while making sure her next order of tea leaves arrives in time?

  Death in a Teacup

  Death is on the menu: With the Wedding Killer behind bars, the witchy Beatrice Knight Timmons is able to focus on managing The Cozy Tea Shoppe. But when the African God of Death pays her a visit after losing his throne, murder is back on the menu. All decorum is thrown out with the tea leaves as the line between the living and the dead gets thinner with the passing of every full moon. Only Miss Knight can persuade the powers-that-be to reinstate Death and the circle of life. But time is running out as the next full moon approaches. While the small colonial town of Nairobi is used to all manner of monsters and mayhem, this latest debacle might need more than a pot of tea to endure it.

  SOCIETY FOR PARANORMALS: A paranormal detective refuses to let danger, death and unwanted suitors inconvenience her in colonial Kenya.

  Ghosts of Tsavo

  Where African myth meets Victorian manners: Armed with Victorian etiquette, a fully loaded walking stick and a dead husband, Beatrice Knight arrives in colonial Kenya desperate for a pot of tea and a pinch of cinnamon. But she’ll need more than that if she’s to unravel the mystery of the ghost lions of Tsavo without being eaten in the process. All this while surviving the machinations of her best friend’s dashing godfather and the efforts of her safari guide to feed her to any lion willing to drag her away. What is a ghost-chasing widow to do?

  The Automaton’s Wife

  Jane Austen meets Lara Croft: Beatrice Knight has enough to contend with: a zebra is dead on her lawn, her horse is possessed and a gentleman has arrived with the temerity to propose to her. To top it off, her dead husband Gideon has absconded with an automaton, threatening to return for his wife. The wife in question however soon has other issues, for a killer has moved into town with a nasty habit of carving up the victims. As luck should dictate, who should be the next target but Mrs. Knight herself?

  Revenge of the Mantis

  Revenge is best served with tea: All is going as it should for Beatrice Knight, until the Lightning God lands in her barn and announces that her old nemesis Koki is about to pay an unsolicited visit. While powdered cinnamon works well on many insects, the giant Praying Mantis won’t be so easily dissuaded from exacting revenge against the intrepid paranormal investigator. And let’s not forget that Mrs. Knight’s cousin is engaged to a bat man while her brother has returned from the dead as a werewolf. As if that isn’t complicated enough, Mr. Timmons presents a possibility too terrible to consider, yet too tempting to refuse. Now, if only she could survive long enough to make a decision…

  The Fourth Mandate

  Occupational hazard has a new meaning: H
aving offered her firm and unequivocal resignation, Beatrice Knight is certain she is clear of her former employer, the Society for Paranormals, and is now free to proceed with her life and a wedding. It all seems quite simple, until the Society’s Director Prof. Runal shows up at the train station, her cousin announces horrifying news and a ponytailed dwarf decides he needs her powers to eradicate all non-humanoid paranormals. At least one thing is certain: anything is manageable with a pot of tea and a fully loaded walking stick.

  Curse of the Nandi

  Marital bliss was never this complicated: Mrs. Beatrice Knight is preparing to start a life of marital bliss, or at least marital satisfaction, with her new husband who fortunately is very much alive and can’t float through walls. While she is no expert on honeymoons, she’s certain that they shouldn’t involve brainless heads, bloodsucking fireflies and Bubonic Plague. These however are mere inconveniences, for there’s another threat of greater significance: the Nandi are rising up against their colonial masters and are determined to rid the land of all things British. The intrepid Mrs. Knight faces all this with her usual aplomb, her hefty walking stick and, of course, a pot of tea. But will her marriage survive?

  A Spider Comes Calling

  Life after death just got deadlier: Mrs. Beatrice Timmons (aka Miss Knight) is thoroughly unimpressed by the troop of monkeys that have invaded her kitchen. Of course, that’s only the beginning of the influx of undesirable critters. When a giant spider appears in the garden, Mrs. Timmons knows there’s trouble brewing and it’s not served with tea. A choice must be made: agree to an unholy alliance or endanger an unborn child? To confound matters further, her husband disapproves of the whole venture. And that’s before Mrs. Timmons vanishes into the Underworld to pay an unsolicited visit to the God of Death. While it’s all for a good cause, the consequences could be dire.