by Vered Ehsani
“What throne?” Gideon asked and chuckled.
“What kingdom?” I added with a snort. “It’s a pile of sand and ruins.”
“He doesn’t know that,” Koki said and continued in Liongo’s language.
Father had already moved to my side and was guiding me into an empty stall when Koki finished speaking. Liongo’s expression hardened. Words roared from his mouth. Not waiting for Koki to reply, he reached her in one stride and slammed a fist into her waist, sending her flying backward. The barn wall shuddered with the impact of her body, and she collapsed into a crumpled heap.
Before Father or I could react, Liongo lunged to the door, ripped it open in a shriek of wood and metal hinges, and plunged into the night, his passage marked by the pounding of heavy feet and the snapping of branches.
A stunned silence descended upon us. Even Gideon couldn’t give voice to his thoughts.
“Koki?” I asked, shrugging off Father’s restraining grip.
She groaned where she lay slumped on the ground. Unsure what assistance I could provide, I trod toward her. Gideon reached her first and hovered around her.
“She’s still alive,” he said, shaking his head in disgust at her determination not to die.
“Sorry to disappoint,” she said, her voice strained. With some effort and Father’s assistance, she pushed herself into a sitting position and leaned back against the wall, her eyes closed, her breathing labored.
“What did you say to him?” I asked as I kneeled beside her.
Her eyelids lifted slightly, and she peered at me from beneath thick lashes. “I told him that it was Anansi’s wish that he should return to life, and that Liongo was summoned to a meeting to discuss his role in the defense of the coastal area.”
“I thought Liongo was loyal to Anansi,” I said, although my voice rose in a question at the end.
“So did we,” Koki replied, bitterness coating her words. “So did we.”
“Poets,” Gideon spat out. “An untrustworthy lot, if ever there was.”
While I wasn’t one to generalize about whole populations with one statement, I couldn’t at that moment disagree.
Chapter Eighteen
“KOKI, WHAT POWERS does Liongo possess?” I demanded as she leaned on Father’s arm in order to stand.
Groggy on her feet, she rubbed the back of her head. “He writes poetry,” she replied.
“That’s a power?” Gideon scoffed.
Sneering at the ghost, the she-demon hissed, “It’s brilliant poetry.”
“In addition to delightful poems of inspirational content,” I interjected in an effort to end their glaring match and extract an intelligible response, “what other powers does he possess?”
Tilting her head to the side, she thought for a moment and said, “He’s very persuasive.”
“The power of words, and a high degree of magnetism and charm,” I summarized, nodding to encourage her. “What else?”
Koki withdrew her hand and sniffed at the blood just as the coppery scent invaded my nostrils. Father clucked as he pulled out a clean handkerchief from his jacket pocket and pressed it to the base of her skull.
“It’s not serious,” she scolded him but didn’t resist, pull away or decapitate him.
“Koki,” I said, wondering just how hard she’d hit her head.
The sharpness of her eyes dissuaded me of any concern I might have had. “He’s a formidable warrior and excels in archery. He never, ever misses.”
“Oh, joy,” Gideon said as he floated behind her. “Your head’s a right mess, Mantis. Even messier than usual.”
The snarl on Koki’s face further reassured me that she had sustained no lasting damage.
“Gideon,” I scolded. “Leave her be.”
Sighing, Koki took hold of the handkerchief and leaned against the wall, studying the mottled pattern of blood on the linen. “He can’t be wounded by any weapon,” she continued. “That makes it almost impossible to kill him.”
“How very inconsiderate of him,” I replied as I began to understand what I’d seen in his energy. “But surely he’s not invincible. After all, Kam killed him once already.”
Koki smiled, rancor evident in the curve of her lips and the glimmer in her eyes. “Indeed he did. Kam knew all the secrets of his father. He convinced his grandmother, Liongo’s mother Mbwasho, to reveal them.”
“And…?” I pressed her.
“And then he used this secret to betray and murder his own father,” Koki said. “I’m beginning to appreciate why he did so.”
I huffed. “That’s all well and good, but what was the secret to his mortality?”
Chuckling without humor, she explained, “He can only be killed when stabbed in the navel by a copper nail or needle. Then and only then will he die.”
A silence descended upon us, broken only by Nelly’s teeth chomping on a few strands of hay. Even in her sleep, the glutton ate.
“Well,” Gideon said, grinning, “which one of you ladies is going to get up close and personal with Mr. Poet?”
“If you weren’t already dead,” Koki breathed out, “I’d kill you.”
“It’s good to be me,” Gideon said.
“What will you do now?” Father asked, and I wasn’t sure to whom the question was addressed.
Koki glanced at me, hesitating. Cocking an eyebrow, she indicated that I should answer.
“I’d like to go to prison.”
“That’s the spirit, love,” Gideon crowed.
“And consult with my husband,” I finished, emphasizing each word.
“Why bother,” Gideon grumbled.
“Because,” I said, my patience for Gideon’s theatrics lower than usual, “this turn of events may require me to select a course of action that will engage me in potentially precarious situations.”
“And you want his permission,” Gideon said. “I don’t remember you ever asking me for permission.”
“Not permission,” I corrected him. “I promised I would consult with him before embarking on activities that could diminish my life expectancy.”
Father and Koki had observed this back-and-forth with some bemusement. When it appeared that Gideon had nothing further to add to the conversation, Koki nodded at the barn’s open door and said, “I should go after him.”
“You’re in no condition to chase him,” Father said, his voice somehow more persuasive for its softness. “And if you caught up to him, what then?”
Before Koki could protest, if she was going to do so, I added, “We need to warn Anansi and make alternative arrangements.”
“We?” Koki repeated, smirking. “I had no idea we were on the same side.”
“Neither did I,” I muttered.
Having thus decided, Father and I set off on Nelly, the only horse that would tolerate a vampire’s presence, while Koki transformed into her Praying Mantis form. During the ride, I was consumed with one question: what had I released into the world?
Upon our entrance into the front room of the modest constabulary, Chief Constable Dougal awoke with a start, jerked his legs off the desk, and stared at us with groggy eyes.
“Bit late, ain’t it, Mrs. Timmons,” he said as he rubbed more red into his cheeks.
“It’s a rather urgent matter,” I said, granting him what I hoped would be a beguiling smile.
“Aye, and nothing so urgent that can’t wait ’til the morrow, I reckon,” he rebuffed my efforts.
“Let me handle this,” Father whispered to me, and spoke a few words in the man’s ears.
The Chief Constable grinned at whatever information was departed onto him. “Well, why’d you not say so before, man?” he bellowed. “After all, what’re rules if not to make an exception or two? Off you go, then.”
As we passed, he winked at me, then raised both his eyebrows and an arm when Koki attempted to follow. She snarled. The man flinched but didn’t retreat.
While I wasn’t pleased that the man was keeping my husband under loc
k and key, neither could I blame him. Certainly, I didn’t wish to see his head dislocated from his shoulders, so I said, “Let her in. She’s with me.” As I led the way, my boot heels clacking against the stone floor, I mumbled, “Now those are words I never thought I’d say.”
Koki snickered behind me.
“Which reminds me,” I said and peered at Father. “What did you tell him?”
“That you have some delicate news regarding family matters,” he replied.
“You told him I was with child?” I screeched.
He smiled while Koki guffawed behind us. “Not really. I merely suggested the idea,” he said. “Humans easily fall into a state of self-hypnosis. I suppose it makes reality more bearable for them.”
My face was engulfed in heat. Rather than utter further protest over the matter, I marched toward the cell where Mr. Timmons was already standing up. He seemed to have been roused from his slumber by our entrance, for his hair was disheveled and his eyes blurry.
“You can’t see enough of me, love,” he said as he leaned against the bars and held out his hands for mine. “I’ve been known to have that effect.”
“As witnessed by your fiancée,” I retorted.
“Former fiancée,” he corrected, frowning at my tartness.
“Now, Beatrice,” Koki said as she strolled up behind me. “Try not to verbally decapitate him. We’re here to consult with him, remember? Then you can kill him.”
Her mocking tone brought me back to my senses. Clasping Mr. Timmons’ hands, I pressed my forehead against the bars. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “It’s been a long day.”
“Tell me about it,” he replied.
So I did, describing how we’d rescued Liongo, only to have him betray Anansi’s trust.
“Although to be fair,” I finished, “he hadn’t promised his loyalty after death. I suppose everyone assumed he’d be so grateful for being rescued that he’d be more than happy to obey the request.”
“So much for assumptions,” Mr. Timmons finally spoke, his voice gruff with sleepiness. “I’m surprised that you’re here rather than chasing Liongo across the continent. Delighted but surprised.”
“The thought did cross my mind,” I admitted.
Mr. Timmons smirked. “I’m sure it did. So now what?”
Koki sniffed from her position at the other end of the small visitors’ area. “You need a bath.”
Father clucked while I inadvertently smiled, for I too had noticed a certain pungent aroma upon entering.
“I’ll be sure to request that,” Mr. Timmons remarked, “along with a feather quilt and a bigger bed.”
He gestured to the wooden bench that passed for his bed. It was covered with the thinnest of mattresses and a grungy blanket of an indescribable color.
“Abominable,” I muttered.
“Speaking of which,” Mr. Timmons said, stroking a thumb over the knuckles of my hand, thoroughly distracting me. “Have you informed Drew about Cilla’s engagement?”
Involuntarily I yanked my hand back. “He’s practicing so hard at using cutlery,” I defended myself against the soft accusation in Mr. Timmons’ eyes. “And he hasn’t stabbed or bitten anyone yet.”
“Beatrice, he has to be told,” Mr. Timmons said, frowning at my disinclination to break my brother’s heart.
“Perhaps—” Father began to say but never completed his sentence. He was rudely interrupted by a flash of lightning, the nose-singeing scent of ozone and a thunderous boom as a tall African appeared in our midst.
Chapter Nineteen
“I DID TRY to warn you, Miss Knight,” were the first words uttered by the God of Lightning.
As was often the case with my interactions with Kam, I was unclear if I should interpret his statement as a threat. Evidently, my companions were similarly unsure for Father positioned himself in front of me while Koki stepped toward Kam, and Mr. Timmons flexed his energy. Then again, my husband’s energy draining power would be useless against Kam who, unlike every other living creature I’d ever encountered, didn’t appear to have an energy field.
Instead, his dark skin was covered in abstract markings that glowed, moved, and, at times, had flames licking out of them. A tall and muscular man, he had a proud posture and a fierce countenance. He was handsome in a menacing way, his every movement effortless and full of grace. His head was shaved of all hair, which made his pale brown eyes all the more startling. A breeze created by his arrival carried his scent to me: spice, warm earth, wood smoke and something a little wild.
A rare smile graced his face but for a moment. “Fear not,” he said, his voice rumbling. “What’s done is done.”
“Did you know Liongo would do this?” I asked as I maneuvered my way between Koki and Father.
Tilting his head slightly as if to ponder the question, Kam said, “As you can now imagine, I had good reason to murder my father.”
“You and me, both,” Koki muttered.
Father and I exchanged glances, while Mr. Timmons chuckled and said, “Well, aren’t you a delightful duo.”
“Could it be a misunderstanding?” Father asked. “Or perhaps the transition from death to life initially rattled his senses? If we could meet with him and explain—”
“There is no explaining anything to Liongo,” Kam interrupted, his deep voice laced with an undercurrent of bitterness.
“I agree,” Koki said as she shifted to face Father. “And there was no misunderstanding. My message was clear, as was his response.” She rubbed the back of her head to emphasize the point.
“So we let him run back to his island kingdom,” I said. “Surely Anansi can do without him.”
“It’s not that simple,” Koki said. “Our resources are spread thin, and we were relying on Liongo’s cooperation. He is, or was, one of Anansi’s most loyal generals. His powers of persuasion, his strategical prowess and his strength on the battlefield would be much appreciated.”
“And if he’s not fighting alongside Anansi,” Kam added, “he could pose a danger to us all. Liongo’s ambitions might extend beyond Pate Island.”
Leaning toward me, he continued, “Didn’t you wonder why the God of Death, Le-Eyo, allowed him to depart the Underworld without any complaint?”
“As a matter of fact, I did,” I said, narrowing my eyes at the memory. “So they’re conspiring together, are they? But for what purpose?”
Kam shook his head while Koki said, “Whatever it is, it won’t bode well for us.”
“You mean for Anansi and you,” Mr. Timmons corrected.
Turning her dark gaze to Mr. Timmons, she cooed, “My dear boy, believe me when I say that as long as you remain on this continent, your fate is interwoven with ours. Unless you’re intending to allow your former lover to take you away to England in a cage.”
“Hardly,” he said through gritted teeth.
“What does Le-Eyo benefit from this arrangement?” I murmured aloud. “The God of Death didn’t strike me as particularly generous, so he must hope to gain something.”
“War,” Koki answered. “Liongo is a lover of war, which inevitably leads to death, and nothing pleases Le-Eyo more.”
Kam nodded. “The fall of the Nandi has left a power void and a growing dissatisfaction amongst the tribes. It will not take much to spark a flame.”
Pacing his small cell, Mr. Timmons repeated his question. “So now what?”
“We kill my father,” Kam promptly replied.
Father frowned, Koki smiled and Mr. Timmons shrugged as if it was all the same to him either way.
“As disturbing as the proposition is,” I said, “the alternative is even more so.”
“We will require some assistance,” Kam said, “someone accomplished in assassinating undesirable elements.”
“I suppose we will,” I remarked. “After all, it isn’t easy to stab a man in the navel. I marvel that you managed to do so the first time unaided.”
Acknowledging my indirect compliment with a tilt of his he
ad, Kam said, “You won’t like the person I’ve recruited.”
“He’s an assassin,” Koki said as she studied her nails. “What’s not to like?”
“Who is it?” I demanded.
“The dwarf known as Nameless,” he replied.
“I suspected as much,” I said as Mr. Timmons growled an unrepeatable curse. “But why would he assist us? Doesn’t he have grand ambitions to cleanse England of all non-humanoid paranormals?”
“I take back my previous comment,” Koki said with a sneer.
Ignoring Koki, Kam said, “I’ll let him explain. He’s expecting you in the House of Stone.”
“How fitting,” Koki smirked.
“Why can’t he come here?” Father asked as he grasped my hand.
“Yes, please do invite him,” Mr. Timmons added, rubbing his hands together. “Tiberius and I would take great delight in meeting the miscreant who kidnapped our wives.”
“For this and other reasons, he cannot enter Nairobi,” Kam said, a picture of solemnity.
“More’s the pity,” Mr. Timmons muttered. “Beatrice, be careful.”
“What?” I asked, turning to him, eyes wide and mouth agape. “You’re not going to argue against me going?”
Chuckling, he raised his hands and said, “Even if I could dissuade you, I suspect it will only delay the inevitable. Either Nameless assists us in this matter or we shall be left to do so on our own. It won’t take much on Liongo’s part to stir up the natives.”
Clearing his throat, he added, “I wouldn’t object if the tribes merely focused their ire on the bureaucrats who are ruining everything. But from what I’ve heard, I don’t believe Liongo will be satisfied to leave it at that. We might be facing a civil war on one side, a rebellion on the other and a disaster all around.”
In the silence that ensued from this gloomy summary of the situation, Koki and Kam exchanged a look that, while not friendly, was devoid of animosity; rather, there was an acknowledgment of an accord of sorts. Father’s dismay was evident in his sagging shoulders and every line on his face, and Mr. Timmons’ eyes were a dark storm that revealed an agitation not matched in his deceptively relaxed posture.
