Stones of Nairobi

by Vered Ehsani

  Both Tiberius and I objected at the same time. “After all,” I added as I looked over my shoulder at her, “your baby has caused quite a fuss already. We don’t want any unpleasant surprises regarding your health or hers. And there’s the issue of Mrs. Cricket. Do keep in mind that Mr. Timmons didn’t completely drain that evil spirit of all her energy; she’s probably searching for another body to possess, and Grace has attracted her attention.”

  At the reminder of the spirit that had attempted to possess her several months ago, Lilly paled further and placed her hands over her protruding belly. “Very well,” she acquiesced reluctantly.

  “At least you’re not a letterman,” Yao said, still sulking.

  As there was little else to discuss, we settled into a thoughtful silence as the wagon rumbled out of town and along the path to the Hardinge estate. With the arrival of the rains and the resulting increase in green growth, the herds of wildlife had proliferated proportionately due to seasonal migration and breeding. Baby zebras, antelope, giraffe and wildebeest tottered around, oblivious to the danger that could be stalking them from behind the thick grass.

  I allowed the sweetness of the scene to distract me from Mr. Timmons’ dilemma, Miss Baxter’s condemnatory letter and the gossip that I was sure would result once the sordid details of the matter were discovered by the townspeople. And what would Mrs. Steward say about all this? I shuddered as I imagined her strident voice condemning the unwanted publicity the scandal would create for her.

  Upon arriving at the house, Wanjiru began to unload Lilly’s parcels.

  “Yao shall assist,” the Adze proclaimed as he leaped into action. “Jonas can take care of the animals.”

  Grinning at the opportunity thus presented, Yao followed Wanjiru toward the back of the house, his grin still visible despite the stack of boxes in his arms.

  Dr. Ribeiro, Tiberius, Lilly and I entered the house and, without discussing the matter, went to the cozy library that Father frequented when not sleeping. By then it was late afternoon, and Father could tolerate being awake for our sake. Flames in the stone fireplace cast a cheery glow that invited us in.

  After the obligatory greetings and a mention of the change in weather, Dr. Ribeiro proceeded to check Lilly’s general condition while the Elkhart men chatted softly in a dark corner, farthest from the thickly curtained windows.

  It was a well-apportioned room, furnished with comfortable sofas and armchairs made with richly brocaded fabric and brightened with plush, colorful pillows. Two walls were covered by bookshelves, all of which had a diverse selection of literature. An oriental carpet covered the dark wood floor in front of the fireplace.

  Yet the sweetness of the room did little to calm the edginess I had developed since the incarceration of my husband. Not wishing to dwell on this dilemma, I squinted at Lilly. Under ordinary circumstances, I was reticent to intrude on the privacy of normal humans. In this case, I felt justified as Lilly was no longer fully normal, her baby certainly wasn’t, and I was in great need of a distraction.

  As I squinted, energy fields emerged before me. All of them contained proof of supernatural abilities: the doctor’s sway over animals; Tiberius’ shape shifting powers; Father’s vampire nature; Lilly’s connection to the World of Shadows. But what I saw stirring within Grace’s energy stunned me.

  “I believe I’ve discovered where Mrs. Cricket is,” I announced, pleased that at least one mystery was resolved.

  The soft murmur of conversation faded away as all turned to me in nervous anticipation.

  Pointing at Lilly’s midsection, I said, “She’s right there.”

  Chapter Seven

  IF I HAD proclaimed Lilly to be Evil incarnate, I couldn’t have received a fiercer response. Both Tiberius and Father exclaimed the impossibility of it, while Dr. Ribeiro frowned and reminded me that the woman at whom I was pointing was none other than Lilly Elkhart, my cousin and sister-in-law.

  “Perhaps the stress of your husband’s unfortunate incarceration is destroying your memory, Miss Knight,” he added.

  “You know about Mr. Timmons then?” I asked, forgetting about Mrs. Cricket and distracted by the mention of my detained husband.

  “Oh, yes,” he said, wagging his head from side to side, his smile bright against his dark Goan features. “Everyone is knowing about it. It is being the big talk of the town, as the expression is going. It is being most very exciting. I was hearing—”

  “Thank you, doctor,” Father interrupted before the doctor could expound on the details of the gossip regarding Mr. Timmons and his involvement in the case of Miss Baxter. Seeing the pallor of my countenance, Father sat by my side, wrapped an arm around my shoulders and tried to reassure me.

  Grateful for his comforting presence, I gazed into his eyes; the light brown depths were brimming with compassion. Although shorter than his son, Mr. James Elkhart had the same graceful bearing, a slim yet well-proportioned frame and a clean-shaven, open face with elegant features. A classic vampire of Mediterranean persuasion, he appeared middle aged. Only recently had I discovered that he was my father.

  “And what’s this nonsense about Lilly being Mrs. Cricket?” Tiberius demanded as he frowned, his concern for his wife overriding any he might have for me.

  Cringing at his tone, I hastened to explain, “Not Lilly. The baby!”

  If I’d imagined that this would placate my brother, I’d entirely underestimated the power of an unborn, barely human entity to unhinge the logic of a grown adult. His eyes that had always reminded me of two pools of perfectly brewed tea darkened; his canines elongated slightly, reminding me that he was, after all, a Popobawa and could, at any moment, transform into a giant bat.

  With an exclamation of outrage, Lilly stood up so fast she had to grab Dr. Ribeiro’s arm for balance. “She’s possessed my baby?” Lilly cried while Tiberius clutched her to his side as if to protect her from any other hateful words I might produce.

  “This is astounding,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest and marveling how they could so poorly understand my meaning. “If this is the delirious effect that babies have on their parents, it’s no wonder at all that Shelby’s mother forgot her. My meaning is plain: whatever was left of Mrs. Cricket’s energy has been absorbed by Grace.”

  I waited for the others to assimilate the implication before adding, “It’s quite remarkable. She should have been consumed by Mrs. Cricket but she wasn’t.”

  My enthusiasm increased for I found it a fascinating subject. Lilly was unconvinced, so I continued. “Recall what transpired with Nelly when a serpent spirit tried to possess her. Somehow, she was able to absorb the more powerful spirit. And look at her now.”

  “Is that supposed to ease my concerns?” Lilly shrieked, her voice quivering.

  “But of course,” I said, wondering what magic babies brandished to dull the intellect of their dames. “Nelly’s the most remarkable horse, despite her propensity for noisy bodily eruptions.”

  “What Beatrice is attempting to say is that Grace is safe and healthy,” Father said in his softest, soothing voice. “Isn’t that correct, dear?”

  I glanced between Father and the anxious parents. “Of course. That’s exactly what I said.” I paused, meditating on the brightness of the baby’s energy. “Koki was quite correct in describing this baby as powerful.”

  “Had you any doubt?”

  We all turned to the speaker who stood at the entrance of the room. As if my words had summoned the West African she-demon, Koki leaned against the doorframe. Her tall, lithe form was swathed in dark red fabric from her shoulders to just above her ankles. Despite the short cut of her hair, she was the epitome of feminine seduction. To the uninitiated, her dark eyes, soft curves and sultry smile would seem alluring; only too late would the victim realize he’d been invited to his demise.

  Ignoring my scowl and Tiberius’ growl, she sauntered into the room, fabric swishing about her legs. She wasn’t at all bothered that she had yet to receive an in
vitation. Such social niceties were entirely lost on the Praying Mantis, even when she was in her human form.

  “Fear not, little girl,” Koki addressed Lilly. “Your child is perfectly safe. For now.”

  She glanced meaningfully at me, and I knew it was time to depart.

  Chapter Eight

  AFTER REASSURING LILLY that Grace was perfectly healthy, requesting Tiberius to discuss Mr. Timmons’ situation with Lord Hardinge, and promising Father that I would take great care not to die or be dismembered, I stood to depart.

  “Do you have to go?” Lilly asked, clutching at my human hand. “I mean, with her?”

  “You know I must,” I said, leaning over and hugging her. “I promised Koki and Anansi that I would assist them. Otherwise, they shall use you, and I can’t allow that.”

  “I don’t trust her or that spider,” she hissed, glaring over my shoulder at Koki.

  “That’s very wise,” I reassured her as I straightened. “Any insect larger than your shoe should never be trusted.”

  “Take care,” Father pleaded for the second or third time.

  “Of course. After all,” I said as I prepared myself to leave, “we’re only collecting a centuries old corpse and reuniting it with its soul. How dangerous could that be?”

  Tiberius sighed and shook his head, a soft smile gracing his charming face. “Only you, dear sister, could utter such a pronouncement without a hint of joviality or jest. This is precisely why Mr. Timmons worries more about you than about his own fate.”

  “There’s always an upside to that,” Lilly said from her seat. At everyone’s astonishment, she added, “At this rate, he’ll worry so much that he’ll cease eating and fade into a shadow of himself. Then no judge or jury will believe him guilty of anything so heinous as to require a cell.”

  “This is being very true,” Dr. Ribeiro said, his smile bright against his dark goatee. “It would be making a most interesting case to study.”

  Raising an eyebrow, I glanced at my brother. “And you think I’m the one with peculiar notions. Mr. Timmons would never allow his concerns to prevent him from eating.”

  Tiberius snorted and lit a cigarette. Koki laughed a deep and throaty sound.

  “You’re all strange,” she purred. “That’s precisely why you’re still alive. At the very least, you amuse us. Miss Knight, shall we?”

  Father appeared less than satisfied with my assurances, yet there was nothing he or anyone else could or would do to stop me. They knew well enough what was at stake. Still, their dismal faces left a melancholy impression clinging to my mind and heart.

  “Babies really are a lot of trouble,” I muttered as I followed Koki out of the house and into the late afternoon glow of a lowering sun. “And this one’s not even born yet.”

  Snickering at my dismay at the troublesome nature of unborn humans, Koki strode toward our little barn.

  “Do bring your energy-enhancing eyeglasses,” Koki ordered.

  “They’re in my walking stick,” I said, shaking it at her and yearning to put to use the metal fist that topped my stick.

  “How very organized of you.”

  Displeased by her intimate knowledge of my possessions, I demanded, “But how did you know about them? They aren’t at all common, having been made specially for me. ”

  Smirking, she said, “A little birdie told me.”

  “A little birdie,” I repeated, my skepticism sharp in my tone.

  Waving toward a nearby flame tree, she smiled. “Birds are a marvelous source of news. Weavers are notoriously chatty.”

  “So I’ve noticed,” I said as I stared at the numerous woven nests hanging amongst the branches.

  The colony of yellow weavers was in a constant state of motion and noise, with birds chirping from sunup to sundown as they endlessly spun their nests. I squinted at a few of the weavers but saw only the energy of a normal bird.

  Chuckling, Koki said, “There’s much you don’t know, girl.”

  Holding a hand palm-up toward the tree, she whistled. A weaver abandoned its nest and flapped over to perch on her hand. Its black beak clicked as it whistled a tune, its head bobbing in time to its rhythm, its black eyes fixed on Koki.

  “I’m not sure I want to know what birds gossip about,” I said, forcing a bored tone even as I studied the bird. I could only imagine what an incredible spy system birds would make for the person who could communicate with them. It would make Prof Runal’s system of ghosts and ghouls seem very limited in contrast.

  “Admit it,” Koki whispered as she leaned toward me. “You’d love to learn how to talk with them.”

  “One can learn?” I asked before I could think better of it. Inwardly, I cursed as Koki laughed at my obvious interest.

  “Perhaps I’ll teach you one day,” she said and dismissed the bird with a flick of her hand. “We’d best be off. We’ll need your horse.”

  Shaking my head to rid myself of a lingering nostalgia and a depressing sense that I might not see my friends as soon as I’d like, I forced myself to engage in conversation. “Why’s that?”

  Koki clucked her tongue and peered down at me, her countenance bordering on pity, if the she-demon could indeed experience such a tender emotion. “You are in a distracted mood, Miss Knight. Being distracted will do little to keep you alive.”

  With my walking stick, I swatted at the tall weeds that were springing up alongside the path. Craning my neck back, I glanced up, wondering what it would be like to tower above all but the tallest men. Her bemused expression caused me to stumble.

  “Try to pay attention now,” she continued. “Liongo was a King of the Tana Delta, on the coast. I have no interest or inclination to walk all the way there, and the train is not much faster.”

  “What, so you intend to ride my horse?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said as she laughed. “We shall ride together on your little flying horse, as I need you with me.”

  We entered the hay-scented shadows of the barn as I mulled over my predicament. The ox and two of the horses snorted and neighed in agitation. Only Nelly slumbered, oblivious to the presence of a carnivore of lethal proportions. Then again, even if she were awake and Koki was in her giant Mantis form, the silly nag would take little heed.

  “Why do you need me?” I inquired, my previous mental disturbances obliterated by a growing suspicion that my immediate future wasn’t as secure as I’d imagined it to be.

  Her full, dark lips curved up in a wicked smile, and her eyes glittered in the dim light. “Why, Miss Knight, didn’t I tell you how we would resurrect the body?”

  “You might have neglected to mention a few of the details,” I said, forcing my jaw to relax.

  “Silly me,” she said as she sauntered to Nelly’s stall. “It must have slipped my mind.”

  My eyes narrowed of their own accord as I braced myself for some new and dreadful admission. “As slippery as your mind is, perhaps you could recall the details?”

  Koki’s smile was disarmingly sincere and jovial. “Do you know any poetry?”

  “Poetry?” I repeated, sounding as dumbfounded as I felt.

  “Well, you needn’t look so astounded,” Koki said while stroking Nelly’s nose. “What did you imagine we’d need to awaken a poet?”

  I pursed my lips, not wishing to admit that I’d imagined all manner of vile requirements.

  “Of course,” she continued, “if that doesn’t work, we may have to resort to a small blood sacrifice.”

  “That’s more appropriate to the endeavor,” I said in a sharp tone as I dragged the saddle off its rack. “I would expect nothing less from the likes of you.”

  Koki’s lips formed a generous smile and her eyes twinkled with dark merriment. “I’m pleased you think so highly of me.”

  Gritting my teeth, I resolved to refrain from responding. Whatever she said, I was certain not to like it. In silence, I saddled Nelly while Koki observed my agitated motions.

  “Do I still inspire terror in
your heart, little girl?” she purred as she leaned over the stall to study my reaction.

  I dropped a stirrup, and Nelly snorted as it thumped against her side. Glaring at Koki, I said, “You’ll address me as Mrs. Timmons.”

  Chuckling, she said, “So I still do, after all our years of intimate association.”

  “That’s a rather big word for an insect,” I retorted as my shaking hand tightened its grip around the bridle.

  She shrugged, not in the least perturbed by my attempts at insulting her. “I did spend time in your cities and towns, filthy hovels though they were. While there, I learned your languages and immersed myself in your primitive cultures.” Pausing, she tilted her head to one side. “You should know that I would never choose to kill you.”

  My astonishment increasing by the minute, I stared at her, my jaw slack, the bridle in my hand forgotten. “That’s all you’ve ever tried to do.”

  “Come now, you exaggerate. I might nibble off a limb or two,” she continued, her countenance thoughtful, “but you are far too entertaining for anything more than that. After all, there are very few who can confront me as many times as you have and survive. And of those that do, none of them are human.”

  I swallowed hard, my werewolf eyes piercing the shadows and detecting every twitch and tremble of the animals around me.

  Smirking, she added, “Then again, you’re not entirely human, are you? You should thank your vampire father, your witch mother and the werewolf that bit you for your continued presence in the world of the living.”

  In one tidy statement, she had summed up my heritage and history. Unable to tolerate her piercing stare, I shifted my attention to pulling the bridle over Nelly’s nose. Yet the entire time, I couldn’t shut out the awareness of Koki’s presence. Her energy mingled with my own, and it required my whole self-control to prevent my distress from manifesting itself in my movements.

  Her silent study of my form disturbed me greatly, so I resolved to engage her in further conversation. “So what sort of poetry is required to resurrect a dead poet?”