by Ayana Gray
Ekon looked over his shoulder. “She needs our help, Koffi. We can’t just leave her here alone.”
“Are you forgetting about our plan?” Koffi’s mouth formed a hard-set line. “We’re supposed to be finding Adiah, not doing search-and-rescue missions. She’s a distraction.”
“She’s a child,” Ekon corrected. “What else would we do?”
Koffi crossed her arms. “If we showed her the map and the trails, maybe we could—”
“You’re very pretty.”
They both jumped. Hila had gotten up, as silent as a mouse, and was standing before them, a curious smile playing on her lips. She looked, if it was possible, even smaller and younger than she had before. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, and her ankle bells jingled merrily.
“Thank you.” This time, Koffi’s eyes were wary. “Look, Hila, we want to help you, but we need some more information about—”
“I like the way you wear your hair.” Hila was still dancing in place when she pointed to Koffi. “My mama always tries to get hers to do that, but it never looks as good.”
A quick throb shot through Ekon’s temple, sharp but fleeting. He closed his eyes and rubbed his eyelids. When he opened them again, Koffi had stiffened. She was looking down at Hila, and her expression had changed entirely.
“You told us a second ago that your mother died,” she said slowly. “You said it was just you and your baba.”
“Oh.” Hila stopped dancing. Her eyes went wide. “I’m sorry, I must have—”
“Forgotten your mother was alive?” Koffi frowned. “That’s a very strange thing to forget.”
“Koffi.” Ekon looked from her to Hila, confused. “What’s going on? You think she—?”
“I think something about you isn’t right at all.” Koffi wasn’t looking at Ekon. Her eyes were on the little girl, expression hard. “And I think you should probably find your own way home.”
“No!” Hila’s voice rose an octave as she moved to stand by Ekon, ankle bells jingling with each step. She took his hand in her small one and squeezed. “No, no, no, please don’t send me away! Don’t leave me alone again, there are monsters!”
Instinctively, Ekon moved to stand between Koffi and Hila. The raw fear in the little girl’s voice plucked at something deep within him. It made it all too easy to remember how he’d felt many years ago. “Koffi,” he said. “There’s no reason we can’t help—”
“Ekon, something isn’t right about her.” Koffi actually took a step forward. “She was alone in the middle of the jungle wearing those bells, her story doesn’t match up—”
“She’s our friend.” The words didn’t feel right, but his lips formed them anyway. “We have to help her.”
“Yes, that’s right,” a nasty voice croaked. “You have to help me.”
Ekon nearly jumped out of own skin. Hila’s voice had changed, no longer wispy and sweet. When Ekon looked down, he saw it was no longer a child holding his hand. Something with wet black eyes was leering up at him, not human at all. Its body was wrinkled and swollen, filling out a tunic that had been too large before. The skin of the thing that had once been a little girl took on a horrid grayish pallor. Ekon tried to pull out of its grasp, but the creature smiled, exposing a set of pointed white teeth. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a single word finally unfurled from Ekon’s memories of Nkrumah’s journal.
Eloko.
“My new friend will help me,” said the eloko in a low, gravelly voice. “He will use his nice dagger to cut off the pretty girl’s face so that I can have it for myself, just like the last pretty little girl I found all alone in this jungle.” The creature clicked its heels together, and the silver ankle bells rang out impossibly loud. Involuntarily, Ekon reached for the dagger at his hip.
“Ekon!”
From far away, Ekon heard the rising panic in Koffi’s voice, saw the terror in her dark eyes. He knew, in a detached way, that her terror should have had some effect on him, but a numbness was creeping over him. The only thing he heard were those little silver bells, and the only thing he wanted was to obey, to help Hila. His grip on the dagger tightened, and he took a step forward.
“Ekon, stop!” Koffi was retreating, her entire body shaking. Her ankle caught on a vine and sent her crashing to the ground in a heap. The eloko cackled and hopped in place when Ekon took another step.
Help Hila, a voice in his head urged. You have to help Hila.
“Please.” Koffi scrambled back in the dirt. Her eyes stayed fixed on Ekon’s as she snatched up their bags and held them against her like a shield. “Ekon, it’s me.”
Now, those words didn’t sound right. The longer he stared at the girl moving away from him, the less familiar she became. What was her name? All he could hear were the bells.
“Help me, Ekon.” Hila’s voice was soft and sweet again. “Help me, my friend.”
Ekon raised his dagger. The strange girl had nowhere left to go, so she would be easy to kill. She closed her eyes and buried her feet in the dirt. Ekon advanced until he was standing over her. The girl didn’t look afraid anymore, but strangely at peace. He grabbed her wrist and pulled up so that her eyes were level with his, pressed the dagger’s blade to her jaw, and . . .
And then he felt it. A hand.
The girl’s hand was on his cheek, soft and barely there. At her touch, he felt a prickle. Then the sound of the jingling bells began to grow faint. The numbness that had overwhelmed his body started to recede like a tide, and he had the strange sensation of emerging from something, of his head clearing. A single word floated back into his mind, and he remembered.
Koffi.
She was still staring at him, eyes determined and focused, with her feet buried in the dirt. Tiny fragments of light seemed to be gathering all around her, dancing up her length and out of her hands.
“No!”
Ekon jumped. The eloko was standing a few feet away, its wicked smile falling away. He looked back at Koffi just in time. She raised her own hand and pointed at the creature. To Ekon’s surprise, the sparkling fragments left her body and floated around her as though waiting. Then, without warning, the mass of them soared toward the eloko. The moment they touched the creature’s skin, it shrieked.
“No! No!”
“Ekon!” Koffi was still staring at him. “Run!”
Ekon needed no further prompting. He snatched his own bag from Koffi’s arm and took off, matching her stride for stride. There was a rustle behind them, a horrible keening, and then:
“Nooo! No, my friends, come baaack!”
Ekon glanced over his shoulder. The eloko was running too, batting away Koffi’s fireflies as it pursued them. Its distended arms were outstretched, and there was a wild hunger in its gaze.
“Keep going!” Koffi flicked a wrist over her shoulder as though she was throwing something. Another wave of fireflies rushed from her palms, but not nearly as many as before. Panic flashed across her face. “I can’t calm my mind,” she said. “I won’t be able to—”
“Friends!” the eloko screamed. “Don’t run away, my friends!” It was impossibly close. Ekon’s grip on his dagger tightened, and he braced himself.
Without warning, there was a flash, an aura of light far bigger and brighter than what Koffi had produced before. Like a golden beam, it shot overhead. The moment it touched the eloko, the creature’s skin began to sizzle. A foul stench filled the air.
“Nooo!” The eloko cradled its burned arms to its chest, screaming in pain. It turned and ran, as fast as it could, in the opposite direction. Ekon watched its retreat, awed, before turning back to Koffi.
“That was amazing,” he said. “How’d you do that?”
Koffi wasn’t looking at him, and she wasn’t smiling. Her eyes were set on something else when she spoke.
“I . . . didn’t do that.”
&nb
sp; Ekon’s blood ran cold. Slowly, he followed her gaze, new fear rising within him like a tide. When he saw what she had seen, he went still.
Something massive was staring back at them from the shadows of the trees up ahead.
Its eyes were cold and black.
CHAPTER 25
The Other Daraja
Koffi didn’t move. She didn’t dare even blink.
The creature standing feet away, obscured in the shadows, was large; she could tell that instantly. She’d seen it once before, in the dark, but that made it no less terrifying in the late-afternoon sunlight. She saw the same raw pink skin, muscles stretched lean over a bony frame. Its face was wrinkled, a composition made of a long snout, two black eyes, and a sliced mouth full of teeth. Its tongue lolled as it stared at her, the color of blood.
“Koffi.”
Behind her, Ekon’s voice barely carried above a whisper. She heard him move so that he was standing beside her, his dagger still in hand and ready. “Stand back.”
Standing back was the smarter thing to do. After all, she had no weapon, no way to defend herself. But an indeterminable pull anchored her where she stood. They’d been standing there for a full minute, and the Shetani had not yet moved. Back at the Night Zoo, she’d seen a monster, a beast filled with rage, but she saw something very different now. Not a monster, not even a beast, but a living creature. Her eyes met its own, and where she’d thought she’d seen bloodlust, she saw something else—a dull kind of pain, old and ever-constant. She saw other things: grief, helplessness. And then she knew what needed to be done.
“Ekon, I think . . . you should go.”
“What?” She didn’t turn to see his expression, but she heard his disbelief. “You’re not serious.”
“I am.”
“Where exactly do you want me to go?”
“Not far.” Koffi was still watching the Shetani. It had cocked its head slightly. “Just . . . I think it’s important that I do this part on my own.”
She felt him shift beside her, could practically hear his hesitation.
“Koffi.” Ekon lowered his voice to a whisper. “I don’t want to leave you alone with . . . her.”
“Please,” she said. “Trust me.”
There was a long pause, a sigh, and then something that sounded a lot like Be careful before she heard the sound of fading footsteps and knew she and the Shetani were alone. The entire time, it hadn’t taken its eyes off hers. Koffi almost thought it looked distinctly curious.
“I know what you are.” Koffi stepped into a ray of sunlight dappling through the jungle’s canopy. The moment it touched her, she felt slightly stronger. “And I know who you are.”
In answer, the Shetani snarled. Anxiety and fear rolled over Koffi’s body in waves, but she held her ground.
“You don’t know me.” She kept her voice low. “But we’ve met before. Do you remember?”
The Shetani snarled again, but not as loudly. It hunched low, claws retracting from the dirt. Koffi tried not to tremble as she took yet another step forward.
“I’m like you,” she said. “Probably in more ways than you’d believe. I . . . I know what it’s like to be misunderstood, to want to run away from the things that scare you. Sometimes it’s easier to run away, isn’t it?”
The Shetani stared but didn’t make a sound. It wasn’t encouraging, but it wasn’t discouraging either. Koffi took a step closer.
“I know you’re in terrible pain,” she whispered. “And I know why. But I think there might be a way for me to help you, if you’ll let me. Will you let me?”
The Shetani stepped forward. They were less than two feet apart now, little more than an arm’s length. In the space between them, Koffi smelled earthen things—moss, tree bark, flowers blooming. She inhaled that scent. The Shetani’s pink nostrils flared.
“I’m going to try something,” she said. “I’ve never done it before, but . . . it might work.”
She closed the space between them in a single stride, her palm hovering inches from the Shetani’s nose. Badwa had told her during their lessons that splendor was an energy that could be moved, given and taken. If the splendor inside Adiah was what had altered her appearance, then perhaps . . .
She touched the Shetani’s snout, her palm cupping its nose. She closed her eyes and tried to remember Badwa’s words.
Calm your mind.
She thought of Mama twisting her hair, of the sound of Jabir’s laugh. She thought of Ekon and the way he smiled at her. This time, when she reached for the splendor, she didn’t pull from the ground beneath her; she pulled from the Shetani’s own being. She felt it instantly in the place her skin made contact with it, buzzing and humming through her hand. The Shetani’s eyes widened with shock, then understanding, and it pressed its head harder into her hand. A jolt of pain ricocheted through Koffi’s body as a part of the splendor moved from host to another, sweat slicked her neck as it moved, but she remained still. This was the most splendor she’d ever allowed in her body, but she could tell there was more, so much more. She closed her eyes and tried to visualize it, a cup filling to the brim. A cup that wasn’t allowed to spill so much as a drop. She couldn’t take it all, but she could take this much, she could hold on to it for a little while, offer some reprieve. A breeze tickled her cheek, a sound that reminded her of a sigh. The air shifted, and when she opened her eyes, there was no Shetani before her.
There was a young woman, holding her hand.
Her hair was thick, curly, the color of a blackbird’s wings. She was tall—even taller than Koffi—and had a deep umber face made up of soft, rounded features: apple cheeks, a mouth curved like a warrior’s bow. She was stunning. Nothing about her face gave away her age except her eyes, which belonged to another time.
“How?” Adiah touched her throat with her free hand, apparently surprised by the sound of her own voice. It was low and raspy, as though it hadn’t been used in years, and there was still a touch of a growl in it. “How . . . did you do that?”
Koffi nodded at their hands, still tightly interlaced. “I took part of the splendor from you.” As though it had heard its own name, she felt that extra power twinge within her and winced. “It’s only temporary.”
The young woman was still staring, her expression inscrutable. “How did you learn to do it?”
“Badwa taught me.”
The emotion on the young woman’s face was clear, along with visible understanding. “You’re the other daraja. I felt your power, your call, and I . . . I came to you.”
Koffi nodded. “And you’re Adiah.”
Tears filled Adiah’s eyes. “I haven’t used that name in many years,” she whispered. “I didn’t know there were any of us left before I saw you. I thought . . . I thought I was the last.”
“There might be more of us out there,” said Koffi. “But none that live in the open, at least not in Lkossa. Things have changed since . . .” She faltered. “Since you left.”
Adiah grimaced, visible pain pulling at the corners of her mouth. “I didn’t know.” Her words were quiet, pleading. “I didn’t know what he was going to do, I swear it. He told me I could use the splendor to make Lkossa a better place, and I believed him. I was so young, so foolish. Had I been smarter—”
“It wasn’t your fault,” said Koffi. “You were a child.”
Adiah scoffed. “I certainly didn’t think of myself as one.” She said the words bitterly, full of derision. “I was arrogant. I thought I was so much better than everyone else around me. Had I just listened to my teachers, to my friends . . .” A single tear slid down her cheek. “If I had listened to Tao, none of this would have ever happened.”
“Fedu is a god,” said Koffi firmly. “Which means he’s had a long time to learn how to deceive people. You were just a girl—”
“Who did something terrible.” Adiah shook her head
. “The power I unleashed destroyed Lkossa, destroyed my home. It caused wars, ruptured the sky—”
“You can’t change what’s already happened,” said Koffi quietly. “You can only change what will happen.”
“And it still lives within me.” Adiah continued like she hadn’t heard Koffi. “I feel it all the time. You must feel it too if you are holding it within you now. It’s a dangerous thing, and always will be.”
In truth, Koffi did feel it. The splendor she had taken from Adiah was no longer a mere tingle beneath her skin; it was growing hotter, painful. As though she read Koffi’s mind, Adiah started to pull away, but Koffi tightened her grip.
“There’s a way you can get rid of it,” she said. “A way you can return it to the earth, where it belongs.”
Adiah shook her head. “That is not possible.”
“It is.” Koffi squeezed her hand for emphasis. “During the Bonding, the splendor in the earth rises to the surface, the same way it did a hundred years ago, when you took it. The next one is in two months, and you could put it back then.”
“It’s too dangerous,” said Adiah. “To remove that kind of power—”
“You won’t release it here,” said Koffi quickly. “Ekon and I have come up with a plan. We’re going to get you to the Kusonga Plains, where no one is around. You’ll be able to release it there, safely.” She watched Adiah process the words, weighing and considering them in her mind. When she spoke, she sounded every bit her age.
“The minute I step out of the jungle again, Fedu will catch me,” she said. “He searches for me all the time, night and day.”
“We’ll hide you, and travel carefully.”
“The Kusonga Plains are a considerable distance from here,” she said. “I don’t know if I could make it that far.”
“You have to try,” Koffi pressed. “Once the splendor leaves your body, you can come back home with us. You can tell everyone the truth, they won’t fear you any—” She winced as fresh, new pain lanced through her, and Adiah’s eyes grew wide.
